No mercy

Lana stares through the bars like the uniform means more than cloth. She steps inside, boots echoing, blonde hair tucked under the cap. The convict watches her hands. They don't reach for keys. They reach for the belt on her hip. It drops. Then her trousers. She wraps one gloved palm around the back of his neck and pulls him down. His mouth meets her first. Tongue working, throat accepting every inch until spit runs down his chin. She tilts his head up, shows him how to take it, then pushes him to the bench. Knees hit concrete. She straddles, rides his face until her thighs shake. When she stands again, his cock is already out. She drops to her knees in the same second. Lips seal tight. No teasing, just wet heat and suction that makes his hips jerk. She keeps the rhythm until the first thick rope lands across her cheek, then another across her mouth, the last dripping down her jaw. She wipes nothing. Just stands, uniform still half-open, and walks out. The cell door slams. Justice served.