Jane glanced at her watch: 8.50pm.  It probably wouldn't be long now.  With her elbows resting on her desk, she put her forehead back between her fingers, pressing her thumbs into her temples until they almost caused pain.  She sat in silent contemplation of nothing.

After what seemed like an eternity of expectation, she was nevertheless taken aback by the sound of a key entering the outside of the lock. Within a few seconds, the latch shot back, the door swung open and there stood Sylvia, still in her uniform.  Jane sprang from her chair and spread her arms wide - her thrill at Sylvia's return tempered by a slight nervousness about the mood in which she would find her.  Sylvia bounded straight into Jane's embrace, wrapping her arms around her chest and inhaling deeply as she nuzzled the side of her neck.

            "God, you smell good!" she whispered.

At first Jane said nothing, simply kissing the lowest exposed part of Sylvia's neck and tracing her arms down the small of her back onto her buttocks.  Then, after a few seconds, she broke the silence:

            "How did it go?"

            "She fried!" Sylvia smiled mischievously.

Simultaneously thrilled and somewhat taken aback by the force of Sylvia's unabashed sadism, Jane began to work her way around to her chest, hurriedly unbuttoning her shirt as she went and planting kisses on every patch of newly-exposed flesh:

            "You really hated her, didn't you?" she said, looking up from Sylvia's decolletage.

            "Au contraire, madame," smiled Sylvia, clutching Jane's thick, soft hair to her bosom and running her fingers through it tenderly: "I wish all the women who look that hot sizzling in the chair would make my life as easy as she did by being completely impossible to have any sympathy for!" 

As she spoke, Jane tugged open the buckle of Sylvia's belt before momentarily pulling down her pants, then her panties.  When she had finished speaking, she slapped her buttocks sharply:

            "Honestly," she said with mock outrage, "I really don't think this unprofessional behaviour can be tolerated – sexual fantasies about the executions of prisoners!"

            "I take pride in my work..." Sylvia said wryly.

            "...And what would the sisterhood think about one woman getting off on killing another?"

            "The sisterhood never met this one," Sylvia smiled. "Seriously: do you know what her last request was? She wanted her fucking hair and nails done!  I was severely tempted to say to her: 'You know: we're going to have to shave off that immaculate coiffeur to provide a clean contact for the electrode so the current can fry your brain - not that much current would have been necessary for that, I suspect.  And as for the fingernails: you'll probably break them off when your muscles contract as the first shock hits.'"

            "You really are a bull-dyke!" giggled Jane, jostling Sylvia "She wants her hair and nails done - she deserves death!"

            "Hey...Hey...You wanna know why she deserved death: go look at her rap sheet," protested Sylvia, before continuing in a conspiratorial whisper: "The fact that her number one concern in the face of death was her appearance just made it a lot easier for me to enjoy frying her...And not just because it made it a lot more enjoyable to watch!”

They both laughed nervously, before Sylvia said in the same, breathy tone: "Do you think I'm a bad person?" Jane reached around Sylvia's body from behind, cupping her breasts in her hands through her bra as she pressed her own breasts into Sylvia's back and kissed her shoulder, before whispering in her ear:

            "I dunno: why don't you tell me a bit more about how good you think she looked sizzling in the chair and how much you enjoyed frying her?"

            “Mmmm...are you trying to trick me into giving up my right to remain silent?”

            “Indeed I am,” Jane smiled mischievously. “I was hoping to rely on my feminine wiles.  If the prisoner would like to see them in action please accompany me into the interrogation room.”

            “Oh, this prisoner won't come quietly!” Sylvia raised her eyebrows.

            “Well in that case, I'm afraid the prisoner leaves me no option...”. Jane disappeared through the door. A few seconds later, she returned, dangling a set of handcuffs from her thumb and forefinger.  Sylvia murmured her approval.        

            “Hands behind your back,” said Jane, with faux-sternness.  Sylvia turned, and Jane grabbed her wrists sharply before tightening the cuffs with a rapid series of satisfying clicks.  Almost immediately she began to push her forward into the bedroom.

When they had reached the edge of the bed, Jane produced a set of keys from her pocket and unfastened the cuffs.  As she did so, she whispered in Sylvia's ear:

            “Now: I think this prisoner needs to be restrained during interrogation – don't you?”

            “Oooh, I think so.” said Sylvia.

            “And anyway, restraint is an important tool in my interrogation technique: it adds to the humiliation element...” Sylvia murmured excitedly once more. “But before we get to restraining you, let's just take care of another crucial aspect of the humilation: nudity!” she lingered with playful emphasis over the last word as she removed the shirt of Sylvia's uniform and tossed it over a chair, then began unfastening her bra.  After doing so, she slipped off that too, throwing it carelessly at the same chair, but heedless when it landed on the carpet.

            “Now, on your back!” ordered Jane.

Sylvia lay down on the bed as Jane – almost without turning her head – opened one of the drawers in the desk and reached in to retrieve a set of two black silk ties. “Arms out,” she said.  Sylvia spread her arms wide.  Jane – still fully clothed – climbed over the bare-breasted Sylvia, looping one end of each tie around her wrists, before tying the other securely to the metal bars of their headboard.  As Jane climbed over her, Sylvia felt her warm, soft breasts - their pebble-hard nipples pressing into her face. When she had finished, Jane walked slowly to the end of the bed and turned to admire her handiwork:

            “There, now aren't you a pretty sight?” she purred.

Standing about three feet from the bed, Jane ran her fingers through her long, brunette hair. She blew Sylvia a kiss before kicking off her shoes. After slowly removing her stockings – holding each one up in turn before discarding it onto her dressing table – she gradually unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it apart as she went to reveal progressively more and more of her chest, ornamented with black silk lingerie embroidered with gold thread. When she had finished, she held it wide open, grinding her hips as she displayed her bosom for the inspection of the helpless Sylvia, before slipping the blouse off completely and throwing it to the floor. She turned her back on the bound Sylvia, forcing her to watch passively as she ostentatiously discarded her belt and unzipped her skirt, causing it to fall to the floor.  Leaving it where it lay, she slowly unfastened the clasp of her bra and slipped this off, tossing it playfully onto her dressing table, then repeated the performance with her panties, exposing the perfect orbs of her buttocks.  Finally she turned slowly, exposing her glorious body to the powerless Sylvia's gaze.  Sylvia pulled on the ties, drew up her legs and sank her nails into the palms of her hands in frustration:

            “Oh, fuck! You know seeing you like this and not even being able to jerk off is cruel and unusual punishment?”

            “Oh yes!” grinned Jane. “It's my speciality. Now talk to me a little and perhaps I can help you with that.”

            “Just come here and I'll tell you whatever the fuck you want to know, you little bitch!”

Jane climbed over Sylvia's body, allowing her hair to caress her upper torso as she worked her way up. When she reached Sylvia's face, she wrapped her arms around her chest, pressing their breasts together as she kissed her shoulder, then her neck, then her cheek...finally, for no more than two seconds, she pressed their lips together and sucked Sylvia's bottom lip.

            “Come back here,” pleaded Sylvia.

            “Uh-uh! Baby wants more than the free sample; baby has to pay a fee. Besides, no shoes allowed in bed.” Jane smiled as she began to remove Sylvia's work shoes, discarding them casually onto the floor, before rapidly removing her belt.  Almost ravenously, she removed and tossed aside her work trousers and underpants. “Now, that's what I call a properly humiliated prisoner,” she said, kneeling between Sylvia's legs, “as well as a fucking hot one!”

Jane leaned over Sylvia, placing her arms either side of her torso on the bed. “Now, where were we?” she continued, “Ahhh yes! You were about to start using your mouth, and I was about to get to work with mine!”

            “What do you want to know?” purred Sylvia.

            “Why don't you tell me about wet you were when you took her to the chair?” she said, before plunging her mouth over the nipple of Sylvia's left breast, licking and sucking it while massaging her right breast firmly with her hand.

            “Oh, God, yeah, don't stop!” said Sylvia, “Well, I got to her cell with a couple of guards, and she looked up at us with these gorgeous big blue eyes filled with tears that were running down her cheeks.  And somehow they seemed to magnify her eyes even further and OH YES DON'T STOP!” Sylvia signalled her approval as Jane switched to licking her other breast, flicking the rock-hard nipple playfully with her tongue.

“We virtually had to drag her to her feet, and she had her arms wrapped around her so tight that we almost had to pull her apart to slap the restraints on so we could get her to the prep room.  And all the time she kept whimpering to herself like some pathetic little bitch.  Oh yeah! - literally, she sounded like some sort of dog.  We almost carried her into the next room and advised her to empty her bladder and bowels, but she was so tense she couldn't manage it – or maybe she wasn't even taking in what we were saying by that point...I don't know.  Anyway, we stripped off her regular uniform and...oh fuck, she looked fantastic!”... After planting a kiss on Sylvia's abs, Jane continued downwards and began to lick the area around her navel. “Oh God, yes, that feels so good!” whispered Sylvia breathily.  She felt an insatiable desire to plunge her hands into Jane’s thick mane of hair and began to writhe and squirm, wrenching at the ties that held her arms.

            “Keep talking,” said Jane softly.

“She had this glorious, china-white skin and perfectly proportioned, firm tits like porcelain and nnnggg...” Sylvia let out a high squeal and bit her lip as Jane moved on downwards, kissing the soft hair covering her groin before plunging her head into her crotch.

            “Oh, fuck yes!” Sylvia almost screamed as she felt the roughness of Jane's tongue tantalizing her swollen, sensitive clitoris.

“We strapped her down to this table – like the kind of thing they use for gynaecological examinations – and I just chopped her pants off with EMT shears.  I pretended not to notice but her cunt...Oh God, yes, don't stop...it just looked like an oyster that you knew would taste divine and contain the finest pearls. I slipped on the diaper as quickly as possible and she just kept whimpering.  It was only when we came to shave her head that she started to really scream.  She was like 'No, God: you're not gonna shave it all off are you?' Sylvia imitated the prisoner's high voice.  I wanted to say: that's your biggest fucking concern right now!  But I just assured her we'd only shave the middle, which made her look like a really sexy monk.” Sylvia giggled briefly at the recollection. Jane continued to lick and suck eagerly. Soon Sylvia began to moan ecstatically. “Finally, we put the execution jumpsuit on her and clapped on the restraints for the last walk.”

“I was following behind the guards to supervise but, God – do you know – she is the only woman I've ever seen who actually looks better with a diaper on?  I mean, she was always fucking hot, but in that stick thin supermodel sort of way. But making her go out around the bum almost gave her an old-fashioned hourglass figure.  And every step she took in those restraints she was wailing and jingling and it was like this glorious symphony of doom.  I was praying she wouldn't stop screaming because if she did people might hear my crotch squelching as I walked...I was so fucking wet!” Sylvia bit her lips together and screwed up her eyes, clenching her fists as though trying to claw back the memory. Suddenly she inhaled sharply and opened her eyes wide: “Oh yeah, right there,” she whispered.

“Anyway, when we got to the chamber, she flipped out – as they always do – and so all the guards grabbed her and virtually threw her down into the chair and within about a minute we had her strapped down.  And all this time, she was still screaming for her Mom or whatever the fuck.  Finally she shut up and the governor read his: 'You have been lawfully convicted and sentenced to death, have you anything to say' bullshit.  And it's kinda funny, 'cos even most cold-blooded killers can manage something about how they're sorry for the pain they've caused and they hope God will forgive them, but I don't think she'd ever thought of anyone other than herself and she was just babbling incoherently about how it wasn't her fault and she didn't deserve this and all the time I was getting wetter, and wetter, at the thought of pushing that button and seeing the bitch fry. Ahhh!...

“So finally, the governor says that magic word 'Proceed'.  Everybody jumps to their assigned tasks. Sarah connects up the leg electrode, John soaks the sponge and puts it in place over the shaven spot on her head...Oh God, yes, just like that...Paul fits the head electrode over the top and fastens the strap under her chin; Thomas puts in the mouthpiece to stop her biting her tongue off and David attaches the blindfold...”

Suddenly Sylvia lifted her head, baffled and frustrated: “Why did you stop, I'm almost there?”

            “Blindfold, you said?” Jane raised one eyebrow.

            “Oh yes - it's an integral part of any respectable electrocution protocol,” Sylvia said, her pseudo-official tone betrayed by her mischievous grin, which indicated that she followed Jane’s train of thought: “It stops the witnesses seeing all the really sick shit,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper “like their eyeballs melting...”

Deftly, Jane clambered to her feet, put one hand into the dresser drawer and produced a black silk blindfold – part of a set that matched the ties holding Sylvia's arms:

            “Will this suffice?” said Jane.

            “Hell, no!” responded Sylvia: “It needs to be a lot more substantial than that dainty thing – and washable too – the leather one should fit the bill.”  Jane plunged her hands deeper into the drawer and emerged with a more substantial leather face mask.

            “Here we go,” said Jane, “I'd forgotten we had this thing.” Jane climbed on top of the bound Sylvia and slipped the mask over her face. “Head forward,” she commanded: Sylvia complied and Jane quickly tightened and buckled the strap behind her head, plunging Sylvia into pitch darkness.  “Now, where were we?” Sylvia heard Jane say as she shuffled back down the bed, her breasts brushing casually against Sylvia’s stomach.  With her vision removed, Sylvia became more attuned to other sensory inputs: the smooth softness of the silk restraints; the sound of her own breathing; the aroma of the blindfold's leather - a smell that, for Sylvia, always evoked thoughts of judicial bondage.  Suddenly, she squealed at the renewed contact of Jane’s tongue with her engorged clitoris.

“Yeah, I remember looking at her, all trussed up like a turkey, connected up like a human heater, ready to cook herself alive,” Sylvia groaned. “ And what was really fucking fantastic is that I was supposed to be just staring now as we had a couple of minutes to go before six...And also it's my job to inspect the preparations: and I just looked at the strap on the bottom of her chest and thought 'Thank you God! That needs tightening!' It would probably have been fine, but I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to rub my tits in her face while she was strapped like that...Oh yeah, don't stop...I kind of like to imagine that she felt how rock hard my nipples were and realised that she was turning me on just as much as I was about to turn her on – but no one would ever know!...Oh yeah, I love it when you do that...” She thought of Jane’s breasts brushing her own skin in the dark: how thrilling the unexpected sensation had been in the safe context of the bedroom – and how terrifying it might have been in the sickening context of the chamber... “And afterwards I'm just looking at her: her breathing is the only sound in the room, and it gets louder and louder as she starts to hyperventilate with the thought that every breath she takes could be her last – and those fantastic tits are rising and falling faster and faster.” Jane withdrew her head a couple of inches, taking a deep breath and inhaling the musky aroma of Sylvia's crotch, before sliding her hands to the top of her buttocks and pressing her mouth deeper inside. Sylvia squealed with pleasure.

“Finally the clock hits six, the governor nods and I push the button,” Sylvia continued breathily. “And – no matter how tight you've got them strapped, they always seem to nearly jump out of the chair and...Oh God...She emits this weird high-pitched sound that might be her lungs emptying reflexively but sounds like a scream...Oh God...her chest thrusts forward and her tits start, like...Oh God...resonating with the alternating current and...Oh God...her hands grip the chair and....Oh God Oh God Oh God don't stop...”. Sylvia grabbed the central bars of the headboard tight as she recalled the moment, thrusting her torso off the bed and pressing her crotch into Jane’s face: she knew they said it was impossible that anyone would actually feel it, but still she fantasized about being conscious as the current took control of her muscles, surging through her body and burning her alive as she sat there helpless in the dark... “And she starts drooling around the mouthpiece and...then the first shock ends, and – she flops down and I'm thinking it's over.  But when the next cycle starts it's like...her body springs back to life again and Oh God Oh God Oh God don't stop – and the electrodes start sizzling and sparking and smoke starts filling the room and...don't stop don't stop don't stop...Jane licked enthusiastically at Sylvia's engorged clitoris and pressed her hands against her hips as she felt her muscles begin to twitch.  Suddenly Sylvia screamed “Fuck, Yes!” at the top of her voice, as her whole body was racked by involuntary convulsions.

Jane plunged three fingers deep inside Sylvia's vagina, sharing in the powerful contractions of her lover's body. “Ah, fuck! Oh, God that feels good,” cried Sylvia, through gradually-receding waves of pleasure.  Withdrawing her fingers, Jane shuffled up the bed and removed Sylvia's blindfold with her other hand.  Sylvia was greeted by the sight of her lover's glistening fingers: “I want a taste!” she whispered.  Jane brought her fingers close enough to Sylvia's lips for her to sense the tantalizing aroma, before mischievously withdrawing them and plunging them into her own mouth.

            “Greedy bitch!” said Sylvia, smiling.

Jane grinned, before pressing her lips to Sylvia's for at least 20 seconds, finally granting her the long, slow, wet French kiss she had denied her earlier.  After Jane finally withdrew her mouth, Sylvia whispered, “I always taste much better out of you!”

Jane climbed on top of Sylvia and reached up to untie her arms, before nestling her head on her breastbone and relishing the comforting sensation of her damp chest slowly rising and falling beneath her:

            “So, am I convicted of thought crime?” said Sylvia, feeling the warm weight on her chest and tenderly stroking Jane's soft hair, which spilled out over her breasts like a set of drapes.

            “Oh, I had plenty of evidence before the interrogation began that you were a sick fuck: that's part of the reason I love you so much,” said Jane. “But I just wanted to make you talk anyway. After all: you're not the only person who's allowed to take pride in your work. And you certainly didn't come quietly!” They both giggled.

            “I never do when subjected to interrogation by such an expert,” said Sylvia: “That's part of the reason I love you so much.” They both had tears in their eyes, but neither could have said whether they were tears of laughter or affection.

They both paused for a few seconds, the only movement Sylvia brushing Jane's hair.  Eventually Jane slid further up Sylvia's body and, propping herself on her straightened arms, looked down at her:

            “So,” she said in a pseudo-interrogatory tone, staring directly into her eyes: “Do you get off on the thought of executing me?”