[kassyS]

Interview With A Murderous Lesbian Cannibal

The next time I went to HMP City of London to interview Miss Cindy , mass-murderer and cannibal, I took some photographs that the coroner provided. They had been used as evidence against her in the trial at the High Court. They were images of her victims as their bodies had been found, and ever since I’d flicked through them that morning they flashed through my head like a slideshow, one after the other.

The prison guard was a muscular redhead with a bulging neck and red lipstick. She paused as she led me through the metal detectors, past the sniffer dogs and through the hydraulically sealed security door. �?If this little bitch gives you any trouble, you just let me know, okay sweetie?’

�?I will. Thanks.’

�?If she so much as blinks in the wrong way, you press that panic button and I’ll be in there like a shot.

Jessica Brown, twenty three years old. Tied up, raped, sedated. Died from massive blood loss when the accused ate her vagina using nail scissors and chopsticks. The victim was conscious throughout.

I shook my head to lose the image from the photograph, but it was imprinted on my mind and wouldn’t budge. �?Great,’ I said, weakly.

And then the steel door hissed open and I stepped into the interview room. There was the sensation of being inside a large fridge, with the scrubbed silver walls and the windowless lighting. I shivered even though it was not all that cold. The door hissed closed behind me, sealing me in.

�?Hello Frank,’ said the murderess. She had washed and trimmed her hair, and it hung in golden curtains around her shoulders. Her face was clean and there was a hint of pink on the cheeks that had not been there before.

�?Hello Miss Cindy ,’ I said, remembering not to shake her hand. �?You look lovely today.’

�?You mean I looked like a dog the last time?’ she growled.

�?Oh, no, of course not.’

�?I can’t have looked that bad. Your cock was swollen up when you left.’

I had no answer for this apart from blushing.

�?Did you masturbate over me, Frankie? When you got home, did you tug your sweet, hard little cock from your trousers and imagine I was on my knees, chained up, rubbing my nipples into your pisshole and fucking my cunt with the Dorothy’s truncheon?’

Kate Mudumbu, nineteen years old. Drugged, assaulted with leather whip. The victim’s head was shaved at some point during the attack, and the accused’s bodily fluids were found all over her. Died from a broken spine after being folded in half and forced to give herself oral sex.

I paused, my mouth hanging open like the dead girl’s. The image burned itself into my mind. �?Who…who’s Dorothy?’ I managed to ask.

Harriet’s face smoothed, like a sail when the wind picks up. �?Dorothy. The red head outside, I thought you’d met.’

�?Oh! Yes, of course, well we spoke briefly – ’

�?Dorothy and I are good friends,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone. �?Come in, have a seat, Frank. You’re looking very smart. Sorry for that outburst. When you’ve been in here for eight year, compliments are suspicious. Thank you. I got my hair cut. You like?’

I nodded enthusiastically, and sat down, to a position where she couldn’t see the bulge in my trousers.

I took the papers from my briefcase, and the Dictaphone. I clicked it on and read out the location, date and interview subject. The beautiful cannibal made faces throughout as I tried to keep my voice steady, sticking her tongue out and bulging her eyes and licking her lips like a spaniel with an ice-cream.

�?So, Frankie,’ she said once I had finished. �?Whaddya wanna know today? My height? Place of birth? Size of my tits?’

I smiled. �?No thanks, Miss Cindy . Actually I have some pictures I would like to show you –’

�?Maybe you want to know how chewy a nigger’s clitoris is? That would look good in your report. Or you might like me to tell you the best way to cook nipple. Hmm? I’m quite the gourmet, you know.’

I clicked the machine off and leaned forward. �?Harriett. Please don’t do this.’

�?Don’t do what, Frankie?’

�?Don’t try to rile me. I like you. I want to write this up as well as I can.’

�?Okay. I’m sorry. You know why I’m so grumpy?’

�?No.’

�?It’s these handcuffs. Can’t you just let me take them off? My ankles are still strapped to the chair, and the chair’s bolted to the floor…just let me take these off. I can’t hurt you, you’re too far away…’ We both remembered the last time I’d come too close, when she’d pulled me into her and drooled on my crotch �?…unless you come over to me, that is.’

After that she ignored everything I asked her and didn’t say a word. I called on a guard, who came in and unlocked her handcuffs, but not before asking me in a serious tone if I was sure I could handle it.

As soon as the prison guard left, Harriet reached over the table and snatched the pen I was writing with. It had been lying too close to her, but I was still surprised at how nimble she was and how far she could stretch.

�?Harriet, I need that back.’

She teased the nib across her lips. She could stab me if I went any closer.

�?Come and get it.’

�?You think I’m that stupid.’

She gave me a coy, sideways glance, and then her hands disappeared into her trousers. When they appeared on the table again, they were empty.

�?Call the guard. Have me handcuffed again.’

I did as she asked without thinking. The same guard came in, asked what was the matter and locked the cuffs. I told her I was nervous.

When the guard was gone, and Harriet’s hands were again safely fastened to the table, she arched her back and starting rubbing her buttocks into the seat of the chair.

�?Your pen is in my pussy, Frankie. Right up my pussy. I’m squeezing it. I’m starting to dribble. Come and get it, baby.’

---------------------