Friday, October 9, 2009

Miss Brown Pays Her Debt To Society

I could not believe my luck.

Yes, I had violated federal law; this time by overriding the climate control in my house to cool it to 75 instead of 80. It did not seem like such a big deal, but I was prosecuted for global vandalism and natural resource hoarding. I mean, what kind of horrible thing had I done? According to the prosecutor, it was the most serious of crimes. It wasn’t just a crime against people, it was a crime against the planet.

In spite of the seriousness of the charge, I was overjoyed when the judge announced the sentence. My lawyer seemed pretty happy as well.

“Miss Brown,” intoned the judge, “Considering that this is your first crime against the planet, I am going to go easy on you. However, an example must still be made of such wanton contribution to the serious problem of Global Contraction. I sentence you to Public Humiliation, while working to pay off the fines designated as standard for this crime.”

After the reading of the sentence the bailiff came over to the defendants table, asked me to turn my back to him as he wrapped and locked a chain around my waist. He then cuffed my wrists to the chain, and strapped my elbows behind my back (cinching the strap close until I grunted in pain), thus immobilizing my hands and arms. I could see my chest was pushed out in front of me in this painful position, my breasts straining against my silk blouse. Perhaps this is part of what they meant by public humiliation.

My worthless lawyer was already over at the prosecution’s table, discussing arrangements for golf that weekend. I shot a scowl at him as the bailiff led me away into the jail section of the courthouse. Pulled down the hall and shoved into a small holding cell with three other women awaiting some proceeding, I was left with the chains and strap still restraining my arms. I sat down on a bench next to one of the other women, a tall good looking woman who appeared visibly nervous.

“Hey, could you undo the strap on my elbows?” I asked politely.

“Um… I am not sure… I don’t want to get into trouble…”

I laughed. “If you are here, you are already in trouble. What else are they going to do to you? Slap your hand?”

I turned my back to her, so she could unstrap me, which she did.

I gasped with relief, and thanked her. “So, what are you here for? Trial?”

She smiled nervously and licked her lips. “Um, no. I was convicted already. I am here for sentencing. My lawyer says I can reduce my sentence quite a bit by opting for a level three facility, so I am hoping for that.”

A chill ran through my body when I heard her mention a level three facility. “Um… you might want to rethink that. I spent a little time…”

Sandra Bailey!” yelled a guard through the bars. “Your turn, lets get up and get going!”

The tall nervous woman stood, revealing beautifully shaped legs and ass, thin waist and pert breasts. The prison uniform somehow made her look good. I shuddered, wondering what kind of horror a 6 foot tall woman would go through, naked and trapped inside one of the level three cages for weeks…

I was housed in the central jail that evening. Three women per cell, bunk beds stacked three high, public toilet, uncomfortably tight orange jumpsuits and bad food. So far, it was the best of all my experiences being incarcerated. I could get used to this. In fact the girl in the bunk above me looked kind of nice, and I was thinking about getting to know her, and maybe letting her share my bunk sometime. Unfortunately, the next day I was discharged.

Discharged is probably the wrong term. More like transferred. Things went downhill fast. About 10am, I was fetched by a guard that took me roughly down to the basement of the jail facility where I was guided to a bare concrete windowless room about 20 feet square. There, with 10 other male guards watching, as well as the judge, court staff, prosecutor and my own lawyer (which ticked me off quite a bit), I was stripped. First the orange jumpsuit was unzipped and removed, revealing my bare skin covered only by a bra and panties. The guards murmured in approval. I was good looking and had a killer body; I knew this and was used to guys ogling.

This was a little much though, as my wrists were handcuffed and then hooked above my head so that I stood exposed before this crowd of guards and court workers. I felt more naked than I had in ages, hanging there exposed in front of these people, the intent and purpose being to provide them with a good view and entertainment.

More court workers entered the room, obviously notified about the spectacle which was about to take place.

I hung my head, my long brown hair covering my face. The hook above me was cranked higher, forcing my body to stretch out. My weight began to shift from my feet to my wrists, and I moaned slightly. The cuffs were hard and dug painfully into my wrists. At my moan a couple of the guards chuckled, and moved to different positions to observe me more closely.

A large pair of scissors was presented before my face. For a moment I was afraid they were going to cut off my hair, but instead, the point slid down my neck, between my breasts and finally to my bra, where the scissors snipped. The bra suddenly popped open and my breasts fell out. A murmur of approval came from the observers, who had gathered closer to look at my helpless body slowly being exposed.

A couple of more snips and the bra fell away. The scissors descended, dragging across my skin and leaving a very small, thin red line. Two more snips and my panties were gone, my bush exposed to the audience. By now, I was crying quietly, enduring what I knew was the beginning of my sentence of humiliation. My naked body hung exposed and straining in front of about 15 people, all leering at me and enjoying my nudity and discomfort.

I struggled on my tip toes, moving to try to stay up and push as much of my weight from my feet instead of my wrists. While I did this I felt two pairs of hands suddenly grab my ass, spreading the cheeks wide apart. I yelped a bit from surprise and fear, and yelped again when I felt something hard and long inserted into my anus. No lube was used, sheer force substituted as the cold hard plastic was shoved far up into my bowels, scraping as it went. I whimpered in pain.

Moments later I felt a strange sensation of cold spreading through my insides, down around my waist. The small crowd was cheering, making comments about how much of the enema I would take. Liquid gushed into me, and the cold feeling was quickly augmented by a feeling of fullness, and then of cramping. I wanted to bend over so badly, and cried out with pain, but could do nothing. I couldn’t tell when the flow stopped, I just knew I felt like I would burst and was cramping worse than I had ever felt before.

There was some activity behind me, as I moaned in pain and danced on my toes. I realized this combination of pain and dancing was being enjoyed by the court staff especially, they were talking excitedly between themselves about how I looked like a pitiful ballerina with a fat stomach. With a slow awareness of what was happening, a second bag of the enema fluid was released into my bowls.

I began to cry in earnest now. The amount of fluid inside me was more than I could take. It was literally painfully distending my abdomen outward stretching my internal organs and stomach. I cried out for mercy, but the flow continued, pressing into me, filling me, making me nauseous.

The nausea became so bad from the pain and distention of my bowels that I choked on bile, trying to keep the contents of my stomach down. It didn’t work. After a minute, I puked, spewing my vomit all over the floor and the front of my body. As the water flowed in, my vomit flowed out, constantly, until I though I would be unable to breath and would die.

The vomiting stopped at about the same time the enema stopped. I was hanging by my wrists now, no longer able to do the dance. The judge was laughing, and I briefly saw him massaging himself through his pants.

With the enema nozzle still plugging my anus and preventing me from expelling the liquid, another nozzle was introduced. It was pressed into my vagina, sliding up, tearing some of the flesh as it went. I screamed from the pain, which just seemed to encourage the guard to shove it in harder and deeper. It passed my vagina, uterus, cervix. It felt like it was penetrating all the way into my heart. I screamed again and begged for mercy.

No mercy was to be had in this cold basement room. A flow of water was turned on, and my internal genitalia were flooded with ice cold. I hung from my wrists, sobbing in pain as the water gushed from my pussy, down my legs and onto the floor where it pooled and finally ran to a drain in the middle of the floor. The painful douching went on for 5 minutes or more, and it felt like my guts would be torn out at any moment. I vomited again, not as much this time, though I gagged hard on the acid of the bile.

The vomiting increased the pain of my distended bowls, which in turn increase the nausea and vomiting. I was in a cold sweat, dizzy and almost fainting as the men in the room gathered close by to observe my suffering. I felt hands feeling my stomach, pushing on its tightness, feeling down to where the water gushed from between my legs, playing with the nozzle in my anus. I vomited again and two of the guards jumped out of the way just in time.

The massive douche was removed and I hung motionless by my wrists for a moment, still cramping horribly. Finally, my wish was granted. The nozzle was removed from my anus, and was followed by a sudden stream of chunky liquid that spewed from my ass. I had no control over my bowels, the pressure from my distended flesh drove the fluid from me in a high pressure stream.

Along with the relief from the pressure was renewed cramping; it struck with an unexpected force. I cried out, begging for mercy, begging to be let down so that I could curl up into a ball and protect my stomach. Instead I just hung there, stretched out and rapidly expelling the enema all over the floor.

When it was over, and all the fluid had been coerced from my intestines, the hook was raised another foot. This lifted me off the ground, my toes swinging about 8 or 9 inches above the concrete. I couldn’t help but move my legs some in an attempt to find something to stand on. I finally grew quiet and simply hung in front of the judge, court staff and guards.

Without warning, a strong blast of water hit me. It was ice cold, and the pressure pushed me to the side. I began a steady swinging back and forth, as the high pressure water spray covered my body, chasing it as I swung involuntarily back and forth. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it stung and the cold water was miserable.

The water shifted from cold to hot. Scalding, I would say, though it probably just felt scalding in comparison to the coldness of the water before it. I screamed again as the steaming water pushed me all about, forcing my body to swing in new directions. It burned my breasts, beating them up and around with its pulses. It burned between my legs, on my inside thighs, and even up inside my vagina once again. It burned my back, my sides, and the pressure shoved water between my buttocks and into my bowels.

Then cold again. The same treatment. Then hot. Back and forth it went, until I was barely conscious. The beating water, shifting from hot to cold, was too much for me in my weakened state. I simply hung there, seeing black spots before my eyes that threatened to expand and take over the world.

The next thing I knew, my soaking body was laying on the hard concrete floor. The handcuffs were removed, and I was dragged, limp, to a wire cage which stood in the corner. I was shoved inside, and the door closed and locked with a small padlock. I lay motionless and watched as the key was given to a tall thin man in jeans. The cage was lifted onto a wheeled dolly and began moving. I lost consciousness.

I awakened, still in the cage, in a small dimly lighted room. My guts hurt, but I had survived. Mostly, I was hungry and very thirsty. In my cage I found two dog bowls, one containing water, the other containing some sort of mush that smelled vaguely like spoiled food. I ate and drank eagerly.

The sound of water came to me and a smell of salt air made me realize I was near, or at, the beach. I lay at the bottom of my cage, resting, hoping this was as bad as it was going to get.

I was wearing a collar. A dog collar, but heavy leather, small spikes protruding from it. I tried taking it off but it was locked in place with a small padlock.

Something told me it was morning. I had been unconscious (or slept) through the night.

There were sounds of people outside, many people, children and adults. Sounds of bells, whistles, and other strange things were barely audible. I strained to hear. Suddenly, it came to me. I was at the fun zone, down by the pier! What was I doing here? I found out soon enough.

A door in the back of the room, and the tall skinny man from the jail entered. Opening some blinds first and letting in the blinding light of morning to my unaccustomed eyes, he turned to me and introduced himself.

“Hey there, Miss Brown I think it is? My name is Walter. I sure hope we are going to get along here, because believe it or not, you and I have the same objectives. We want to earn as much money as we can, in as short time as possible.”

He had a slightly slimy quality to him, and was leering at my naked body as I lay in the cage. I composed myself as best I could, rose up on all fours (as much as the cage would allow) and answered him.

“Well, Walter, I don’t know what you mean about us having the same objectives. I am naked inside the cage and you are outside. Doesn’t sound like we have that much in common. What did you have in mind?”

Walter smirked, and walked over to a large box on the other side of the room. He removed a long stick, painted red, with a box at one end where their was a handle, and a small fork at the other end. He sauntered over to my cage with the object in his hands, twiddling with some controls, and then casually but quickly stuck the forked end of the stick through the cage wires where it contacted the naked side of my body, just at the ribs.

The world exploded for a moment. A searing pain shot through my side, I exhaled suddenly with a grunt and dropped to the ground. The pain had only lasted a moment, but it left a sort of residue, a throbbing tingle that said my brain was still reverberating from whatever horrible had just happened.

I lay panting, and began to cry. It had happened so suddenly, and without warning, I had no time to prepare my mind. Not that it would have probably mattered. The object he held in his hand was a cattle prod, charged and ready to deliver a significant high voltage jolt to my naked flesh, where ever he pleased.

There was little I could think of except how to keep from getting shocked again. At that point in time, I would have done anything for him, just to convince him not to touch me with that object again. Instead, he squatted down and spoke to me.

“That’s what I have in mind Miss Brown. By order of the court, you are to provide yourself as a carnival attraction, accepting a portion of the proceeds you bring in, until you have paid off your fine. Because I get another portion of the proceeds, we both want to pull in as much money as possible, for our own reasons. Cooperate, and we can get this going and rake in some cash.”

I was recovering, and looked at him with disbelief, though I knew he was telling the truth.

“What sort of attraction?” I asked, slowly regaining my composure.

“Well, here’s how it works. Just outside this door, on the main beach walk, is a stake. You get chained to it, and then I sell shots at you with this here prod,” here he waved the cattle prod in his hand,” and the more people pony up the bucks to knock you silly with it, the more money we make. You really don’t have to do much, I do most of the work, hawking the amusement, pulling in the customers, taking in the money. You just grovel and take it.”

I looked at him in disbelief. I was going to be sold as a torture toy on the beach sidewalk at the fun zone. I curled up and began crying.

“Might was well get started now, you really don’t have to do much except stay awake, don’t faint, give a nice strong reaction when somebody shoots you one.” He was grinning evilly as he said this.

Walter opened the cage door, and attached a short leash to the collar around my neck. I crawled out of the cage as he pulled, yanked in the direction of the front door. He pulled hard and fast enough I could not get up, and scrambled on all fours, my hair hanging down, breasts wobbling below me, knees scuffed on the ground. The front door opened, and I was pulled down a short sidewalk on the side of a plain blue stucco building until we reached the main sidewalk.

We crossed the sidewalk, sand on its surface digging and scraping my hands and knees. People walking by stopped and stared at me, a nude 26 year old woman with a great body, nice looking, being dragged over to the edge of the walkway. There my collar was quickly attached to a short but heavy chain, which was in turn welded to a metal stake that extended about a foot up out of the ground.

In this position, I could raise my head no higher than two feet off the ground, effectively keeping me on all fours, bent over and exposed to the public that walked by. It felt like I was a dog, and not a well treated one at that.

The concrete surrounding the stake was discolored to a mottled brown. This discoloring seemed to extend in a semicircle around the stake, for about three or four feet. I wondered what this was, until with a sudden shock I realized it was probably dried blood. This stake had been here for some time, and I was undoubtedly not the first person to be humiliated and tortured publicly at this spot. I tried not to think what might have caused the discoloration, how and why others had lost body fluids here.

Walter took a hose that lay nearby and turned it on, pointing it at me. The cold water felt refreshing, and he sprayed my whole body down, making sure I was wet all over. He then turned the hose off, and began hawking… talking, chattering, selling the opportunity to torture my exposed body.

“Step right up ladies, step right up gentlemen! Here we have a true treat for you, a young woman convicted of crimes against the planet. Help us save the planet! Help us repair the damage she has done! Only $25 for one shot, one slug, one jolt with this 20,000 volt prod! Step right up, see her beauty, see her nudity, see her cringe and crawl before you as you wield the mighty sword of judicial justice! Make her pay! Only $25, step right up…”

The patter of his speech continued as I knelt next to him, curious people coming up to see the naked woman, to marvel and try to get a glimpse of my breasts and pussy. My skin was glistening wet, which I knew made me look even more enticing as I covered my naked breasts with my arms as best I could. Soon, there must have been 25 or 30 people standing around, looking at me as I knelt and hung my head, terror running through my body.

“Hey, let me try. Here you go,” said a man’s voice. I looked up. A squat, round man was counting out the $25 and giving it to Walter. Walter in turn took the red stick and handed it to the man, explaining that he had to hold the button down, and then touch the other end anywhere on my body that he wished.

I shrank back, trying to get away. I knew now what would happen, and the squat man approached with a little uncertainty mixed with anticipation. I pulled the chain as far as I could but it gave me no room to avoid the prod as it was extended toward me. It touched my shoulder, just below and next to the neck.

Once again, my upper body exploded in pain, and I dropped to the ground, emitting a loud “ooomppphh”, followed by a gasp and a sob. The pain only lasted a moment, but it was so sudden, so severe, it lingered and echoed across my shoulders and chest. I scampered and crawled away from the horrible prod, sobbing, tears rolling down my cheeks.

The crowd was fascinated by the spectacle. They reacted in wonderment, and even with a small cheer. The squat man had a delighted look on his face, and quickly paid another $25 for another jolt. Walter had to push the crowds back, they had begun to press in to get a better look at the wild fear in my face as I crawled around, trying to avoid the prod.

Zssnnaapp! The prod hit my side this time, the pain jolting through my ribs and stomach. I screech just a bit, and the crowd actually applauded. My arms shook, the muscles not cooperating with me.

Walter had several interested takers, all wanting to pay $25 for the privilege of electrocuting the crap out of me. Two more men and a tall woman. I noticed the woman, feeling betrayed that my own sex would take advantage of me. I squirmed around, trying to get away from the prod which waved around, trying to find an opening.

Zssnnaapp! The prod had slid past my shoulder and hit my left breast, just an inch away from the nipple. It felt as if my entire breast had lit on fire, and I screamed as I rolled onto my back, legs up and arms around my breasts. Protection was not possible, however, and before I was able to get my breath or move to avoid it, the fire exploded in the soft flesh of my pussy. I hadn’t noticed the next person taking the forked instrument of torture and rounding my body to position below my agonized form. I was too busy rolling around on the ground, trying to recover from the last shock.

And so it went. I stopped crying after a while, there were no more tears in me, and the constant flow of shocks was more than I could deal with. I tried to get out of the way, move to present less vulnerable areas of my body such as a shoulder, or arm. But at times, it was simply too much. The crowd ooooed and awwwwed when some lucky soul got the prod when I was writhing on the concrete, unable to recover, and the prod struck me on a breast, my pussy, even sliding into my anus.

The only real rest I had was when Walter would hose me down. While this process was a wonderful and needed respite, it became clear that the purpose was to keep me wet and glistening. It attracted onlookers, as well as providing a good conduit for the shocks, ensuring maximum effect. Nevertheless I desperately needed the breaks and enjoyed the momentary pleasure of the cool water.

About halfway through the day, I noticed the smell. The constant shocks were occupying almost all my awareness, my body was almost completely exhausted, and then I noticed this horrible smell. It smelled like a badly maintained toilet had backed up.

It was me. I had lost control of my own body functions without even realizing it. I was wallowing in my own shit, my own piss. Each shock had gotten me closer and closer to the point where I could not only not stand, run, support myself, but I could no longer retain control of my basic body functions. There was shit on my breasts, urine covering my stomach, and blood on my legs and arms.

The blood was from the concrete scraping against my body as I wallowed and crawled away from the line of people that came up to me, one by one, to take their turn adding to my torture.

Thank goodness, Walter washed me off, thoroughly. The water sprayed over my body, and I lay on my back, spreading my arms and legs wide for all to see, all dignity gone. He carefully sprayed away my filth, and pushed it away to a nearby drain. When I was clean, he continued hawking… selling my pain to others.

By the end of the day I was no longer able to avoid the prod. I lay on the concrete, curled into a ball. Interest had dropped off significantly, and while there was a still steady stream of onlookers and people willing to prolong my agony for the sake of the planet, there was time to recover between each of the shocks. In between them, lay and stared at the darkening sky, breathing heavily, my breasts rising and falling in the breeze, legs spread and exposing myself. I had no dignity left, no privacy. I was nothing but an organism of pain, waiting for the next dose of agony.

At the end of the day, I remember a short, cute teenage girl paying for the prod, and then coming up to me with a glimmer of sadism in her eyes. She wielded the prod before me, swung it around as if to say “You don’t know when, or where this will hit… fear it…” The last thing I remember was her darting forward with the prod aimed at my face….

I awoke in the cage, back in the room behind the beach walk. My head was pounding, and my body felt as if it had been run over by a truck. I didn’t move. I had been there a while, as I was clean and dry. There was food and water in bowls inside my cage, where I could eat like a dog when I gained strength. For the time being, I didn’t move.

Eventually, I ate. The food in the dog dish was disgusting, but there was a lot of it and I was hungry. I drank the entire bowl of water, as well, lapping it up like a dog. My entire body was tingling and burning, small cramps rippling through the muscles as I moved. When I finished eating, I fell down and slept.

“How much money did we take in yesterday?” It was the next morning, and I knew that the more money we took in, the faster my debt would be paid and I could get out of there.

“Um… about $6,000. You get 20% of that, so you have about $1200. I am going to raise the price today though, I think we can do that and still have a steady stream of customers. We were backed up several times yesterday, which means we are losing money. You are doing well, by the way. Very active, very healthy. You scream and writhe a lot, which really helps draw the crowds. Keep it up.”

Fuck. Of course I was screaming and writhing, I was being tortured with a cattle prod. After a few hours of that it felt like my entire body was on fire. There was little choice except to scream and writhe.

“Say, Miss Brown… I am going to cut you a deal. You have one of the best bodies I have seen on this job, really good. Good muscles, good breasts, nice shape. And you are pretty cute, too. Tell you what. You fuck me, and I raise you from 20% to 25%. What do you say?” Walter was nonchalant, but I could tell he wanted it.

“Walter, what are you talking about? I should be getting 30%. Plus, fucking you would be almost as bad as the damn prod! And top it all off, I am no whore. I don’t fuck for money.” Actually, at that point, I was willing to do just about anything to get out of there, but I still had my wits about me. I could play this guy.

“OK. Tell you what. 27% and you don’t just let me fuck you, you sleep with me and really make it worth my while.”

“28%,” I countered.

“Done.” Walter grinned big, and unzipped his pants. “First payment due.”

His penis was big. Not the biggest I have ever had, but still large. He lubed it up. I waited for him to unlock the cage, but instead he simply went around to the back, stuck himself through the wire and waited. I backed up against him, and felt him enter me. It actually felt good to have someone as large as him entering me, and I ground and pushed against him as he thrust. He came quickly, spasms and jerks announcing his orgasm.

When he was done, he zipped back up, got my leash and opened the cage. As I crawled out of the room and onto the sidewalk in front of the building I could feel his sperm trickling down my thigh. I was sure anyone who came up close would see it as well.

This time Walter chained my right ankle to the short post. I thought for a moment that I would be able to move about more easily, and perhaps avoid some of the more painful shocks. It was not to be. After locking my right leg to the post, he quickly roped my left ankle behind me, pulled back and then grabbed my right wrist. The rope went around my wrist so that my left ankle was tied to my right wrist, both tight behind my back. I was going to have a really hard time moving around. My left arm was free, but otherwise I was spread out on the concrete sidewalk like a trussed up chicken.

A crowd was already gathering, and Walter began hawking the opportunity to help an eco-criminal pay her debt to society. It was only a minute or two before the first prod sent a knife-like slice of pain through my leg. I rolled over, and screamed, laying and panting as the next customer came up to me with the prod, looking for just the right place…. and I emitted a choked scream as he stuck it into my exposed neck.

The day went much as before, though because Walter was charging $50 instead of $25, the flow of takers was slower. Still, I was exhausted from the day before, my muscles began cramping, and I was writhing on the ground in pain between jolts. My hair was a horrible mess, my body a mass of bruises and scrapes from the concrete. I lost bladder control earlier that day, after barely an hour. I vomited around midday. Walter kept me hosed off, but it was miserable.

That evening I slept with Walter. He wasn’t a bad guy; a little sadistic but all in all he was just doing a job. If it wasn’t him, it would have been someone else. He had me secured to the bed with a lock and chain, but otherwise I was free to ride him, suck him, fuck him and do whatever we pleased. Though he was rather ugly, he wasn’t a bad lover. And of course, sleeping in a real bed instead of the cage made a huge difference to me.

Four days I spent on the sidewalk at the fun zone. Four days of naked exposure to the public, being prodded by random passers by. Four days being a public spectacle, writing in pain in my own filth, no longer caring that I was exposed for anyone to see.

On the fifth day I was packed up in the cage and driven back to the courthouse. I made a final appearance before the judge before being released. Part of the sentence of humiliation was to stand before the court, naked and chained, as he lectured me on the importance of saving the planet from Global Expansion.

I pointed out that I had been convicted of contributing to Global Contraction, not Global Expansion. At this, I was forced to kneel before the judge with my head bowed as he explained that because the evidence for Global Contraction was still unclear, that the crime had been commuted to one of contributing to Global Volume Change, whether it was Global Expansion, or Global Contraction. He further informed me that questioning him or any other official concerning Global Volume Change was cause for time assigned to the Attitude Adjustment and Correct Thought Clinic.

In lieu of receiving time in the AACT Clinic, the judge kindly allowed me to complete my sentence of humiliation by giving him a public blow job in his court room, in full view of all spectators. When he was done spewing his semen over my face and hair, I was told to remain kneeling and naked in the center of the courtroom, allowing his sperm to dry, as an example to all other defendants and scofflaws that had hearings that day.

It was a really long day.