Punished With My Own Desire

Punished With My Own Desire

By Joachim 


This story is an intense modification of "I'm A Babypants Prisoner", which has
been  posted anonymously in the internet. Steve Leiting, Ryan Verderaime et al.
have later  claimed to be the authors, but they are no more attainable. I have
edited and altered  the story to give it a new direction and to smoth out some
things I found disturbing.  Also I added a new ending.

Revised version, copyright ¸ 2000 by the authors. All rights reserved. For
personal  use only. No permission granted for printed copies. Transmission in
electronic form  is permitted provided copyright and warning remarks are not
removed or changed,  no abridgements or alterations are made to the text and no
fee in any form is  charged. Giving access for minors is strictly forbidden by
law and not tolerated by  the authors. Providing in any publicly accessible form
(eg. internet sites) requires  written permission.

Warning: This story contains explicit sexual descriptions. It is intended as a
fantasy for adults  only. If you are offended by such texts or if you are at an
age where reading material  of this kind is illegal in your country, please stop
reading NOW. Any attempt to re- inact the situations could be dangerous. You
have been warned!

***********************

Part 1
*****************

It all started four months ago when I got arrested for abuse of Marijuana. It was the 
first time I had ever did this, and I did it only because of curiosity. And, lucky as I am, 
this had been the evening when they started a police round-up at the discotheque I 
was trying together with some friends for the first time. Oh shit. While the officer ar-
rested me and told me my rights, he constantly ogled at me. If you could see me 
you'd know why. I'm blonde, 105 pounds, with good breasts and legs. Clothes look 
good on me and when I add a pair of my favorite spike pumps, I can usually get a 
man to do anything I desire. My best feature is my face. I look even younger than my 
24 years and I guess that's partly why I got into this mess. I wished I would not have 
been so daring with my outfit because they accused me of prostitution, too. We did-
n't know that this discotheque was a well-known area for hookers, too.

They brought me directly to the courts building. Sitting in the prisoner's room among 
the druggies and hookers they had picked up, too, and waiting for my appearance 
before the summary court that had been installed recently, I was scared of going to 
prison. I didn't want that to happen to me, didn't want to be locked in, especially not 
with these "girls". I guess I was pretty vulnerable and showed it. A good-looking 
woman of about fourty years, with one of these official's badges came up to me, all 
pretty and efficient in her tailored suit, patent pumps and silk blouse and turned on 
the charm.

"Hi, I'm Joan," she said. "You're going to get two years, you know."

"So?" I was suspicious. I had heard enough of jails not to trust anybody.

She continued with a charming smile: "If I could get you 3 years of special parole, 
would you be interested?"

"Sure, what's the catch?" More suspicion. Nobody gives anything away for free.

"I can't tell you the details. It's an experimental program. You'll have to trust me."

I didn't like the thought of trusting a stranger but Joan only said she was looking for 
volunteers for a new special probation program for females. Supervised life instead 
of prison. She refused to say anyhing more about the program. I only had a few min-
utes to think about it before the bailiff came for me. I told Joan I would go along with 
her plan and as I entered the court room she went up to talk to the judge.

I don't know if that old fart of a judge was in on the deal or not. He sure gave me a 
funny look, as if he was pitying me my fate. He sentenced me to 3 years of probation 
under Joan's supervision and that was the end of it. Up to this moment I hadn't no-
ticed that I had been without any attorney.

The first time I knew something was funny was when Joan insisted on strapping my 
hands behind my back with a pair of cuffs joined by a short length of chain. I was 
caught off guard.

"What are these for if I'm on probation?" I asked her sullenly.

"You're still a prisoner of the court until you begin the program. After your indoctrina-
tion you won't be going very far very fast and we'll be able to forget about these."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked in alarm.

Joan had nothing more to say. She led me from the court to her private car and 
helped me get in. Sitting in a car while handcuffed isn't comfortable and I told Joan 
as much but she didn't even answer.

As we drove toward the suburbs, I tried to get Joan to talk about the program. She 
flashed me some wicked smiles but wouldn't volunteer anything except that I was not 
the first person to take advantage of the program and that I would better be a model 
student or it would look bad for both of us. She got her message across. I had 
avoided prison but I hadn't avoided the hassle of being someone's petty servant.

When we turned into the entrance of the State Mental Hospital, I got scared fast.

"What are we doing here? I'm not crazy!"

Joan just smiled one of those wicked smiles of which I was already sick, telling me to 
keep quiet and do as I was told.

They were waiting for us. Joan must have called them before we left the courthouse. 
There were two burly nurses to greet us who looked as if they enjoyed pushing peo-
ple around. With my hands behind my back, wearing a mini skirt and spike pumps, I 
was in no condition to give them a hard time.

They took me to an examination room. My heart stopped cold when I saw the obstet-
rical examining table fitted out with restraining straps. I never did get used to those 
damn things and the straps told me that I wasn't going to like what they were going 
to do to me once they got me all strapped down with my legs held wide apart.

Despite their advantage in numbers and size, they didn't release my hands before 
undressing me. My skirt, pantyhose and panties went first. It felt weird to be bare 
from the waist down. Without a word, they hoisted me onto the table and strapped 
my legs down tight. By now I was trembling from fear. They loosened the cuffs and 
had my blouse and bra off before I could even think about resisting. Then they made 
me lie back so they could fasten my wrists in cuffs attached to the table and pull a 
wide leather band tight across my middle. I couldn't move an inch.

I demanded to know what the hell was going on but everybody ignored me. Joan had 
disappeared and the two ape-women pretended they didn't understand English.

After a few minutes of my angry monologue, one of them turned to me and said, 
"Shut up if you know what's good for you. We can make your life hell from here on if 
we feel like it."

I decided to keep quiet. That lasted until I saw what was on the tray of instruments 
she was wheeling toward me. A straight razor, a bowl of water, a can of shaving 
foam and some towels. I moaned loudly in despair and let my body go limp. There 
were worse things than having your crotch shaved but not too many, or so I thought 
then. Why did they want my crotch free of hair? I did my best to keep still but the 
sound of my own gasps seemed to echo in the room. When it was over, I had this 
tremendous urge to run my hands over my new nakedness down there but I guessed 
it was pointless to ask for my hands free.

They left me alone after that. It must have been an hour or more. There were no 
clocks in the room but I could see the sun travel across the window. When the next 
crew arrived, I knew I was in for something I wouldn't like.

They were all decked out in surgical garb and they brought a lot of stuff on carts with 
them. Even though they all wore masks, I was sure that one of them was Joan. No-
body said anything to me or to each other. Panic took over and I began to pull 
against the straps, cussing them all the while. Then someone put a rubber mask 
over my mouth and nose and that was the last thing I remember until I woke up.

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

The first thing I remember feeling when I came out of the anesthetic, was the awful 
burning in my pussy. Then I found out I couldn't move my arms or legs. I vaguely 
remembered the straps on the table.

It took a while for my head to clear. The room was blurry and spun around a lot. I 
had a hell of a headache and my muscles were cramped from being in the same po-
sition so long. A nurse, wearing a surgical mask leaned over me and said something 
but I didn't understand. I tried to talk but my mouth was too dry and it tasted like 
chemicals.

I don't know how long it took but I finally got my thoughts together enough to try to 
find out what they had done to me. I raised my head a little and got the shock of my 
life.

My arms and legs were encased in smooth, white plaster casts. Worse, there was 
some small, metal-shining thing sticking out of my itching, burning pussy. It was not 
big, but it was clearly visible on my shaved, spread-open crotch. I must have grunted 
or something because the nurse came back and told be to relax and be quiet. She 
gave me a sip of water and that helped a lot.

The nurse had disappeared again. I tried to figure out what they were up to. It was 
terrible not being able to move nor knowing what was going on. By the time Joan 
turned up, I was most curious and more than a little pissed off. She circled me. I re-
alized that I was still on the examining table but there were no straps holding me any 
more. The casts took care of that function. She wore a very satisfied look. She had a 
secret to tell and she was going to make me beg for it.

"Don't you want to know what's happened to you?" she asked coyly.

"I'm sure you'll get around to telling me in your own sweet time," I said and grunted 
with the effort of trying to lift an arm encased in plaster and to close my splayed legs.

It seemed heavier than I expected. Then I noticed the doughnut-like thing around my 
wrist. A weight. A quick check told me that I wore one on each wrist and ankle. I was 
helpless. I did my best to hide the shiver of fear that ran down my spine.

Joan came up to the side of the table and leaned so close that I could smell her 
perfume and see that her eyeliner needed a touch-up.

"You're in plasters, Sandy. Just think about that for a moment. You're all bundled up 
like a baby and helpless to do anything about it."

I felt my lower lip tremble despite my best efforts at maintaining a tough face. I knew 
I was in plasters. God how I knew! But, the unspoken questions were, for how long 
and why?

"I know," I said quietly, "any idiot can see that."

Moria started her pacing again. It drove me wild because I couldn't keep her in my 
field of vision. When you're helpless, you notice these things. I twisted and grunted 
but the casts and the heavy weights attached to my limbs were very effective in 
keeping me subdued. All I managed to do was tire myself out.

"Go ahead, struggle. It won't do you any good."

I hated Joan for saying that. It was true and the truth hurts. I was losing my cool, and 
fast.

"OK, game time is over, you win. What's this all about?"

I didn't like the sound of my own voice. It was too desperate, too pleading. I was sig-
nalling my surrender whether I liked it or not.

She took her sweet time about answering. I wondered if she knew what "pregnant 
pause" meant. She made me sweat those seconds before she replied.

"Oh, it's really quite simple. The Alternative Sentencing Program works on a very 
basic principle. Rather than wasting much money to lock people like you up in a 
prison as a negative reinforcement against your unacceptable behavior, in your case 
drug misuse, we provide a ... special way of negative reinforcement."

She hadn't really come out and said it but a dark suspicion began to form in the back 
of my mind at the same time as I remembered this strange thing in my pussy. I was 
too stunned to offer any comment and Joan wasn't going to rush in with the good 
news. She wanted me to beg for it. I did.

My voice was almost a whisper, not quite what I had intended but it got me an an-
swer.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you realized what you're wearing?"

"Yeah, plasters. I've mentioned that, remember?"

I wasn't sure if I really wanted to hear the rest of what she had to say but part of me 
was dying of curiosity.

She slapped my naked pussy hard enough to cause a rush of fresh burning in it. I 
moaned despite myself.

She resumed her strutting. I was reminded of a Nazi officer in a war movie. It was 
time to clear up the last obvious point, no matter how awful the news.

"Joan," I said as carefully and rationally as I could, "you can't keep me in casts for 
three years. It would cost as much as a prison cell."

She paused at the side of the table and began to run her hand over my body. She 
pressed harder and it began to arouse me. I wanted to pull away but my legs were 
too heavy with the casts and weights. I tried to ignore it while I waited for her to drop 
the penny.

"Don't worry about the casts. They're only for a week or so. Just a little appliance to 
help your indoctrination. No, the real gem is the hood that we placed over your clit."

She let her stroking get harder, knowing full well what she was doing. I panted 
harder from the arousal, but suddenly I made a cry of pain, as she began to stick her 
finger into my already-wet love hole. It stabbed terribly.

"This hood has a double function," Joan continued explaining after retreating her 
finger. "First, it prevents your lust button from being touched or stimulated otherwise. 
Second, it has a nice mechanism implemented. Anytime an object enters your cunt, 
small needles will pinch your sensible area."

I looked in shock. This sounded really strange. Although I still didn't understood it 
completely, this affair made me feeling terrified.

Fortunately, Joan now continued her explanations without the need for further en-
couragement. She seemed to really enjoy what was going on. "Understand the 
meaning of this measure, dear? You're now sort of impotent, Sandy. You have no 
choice but to wear this clitoris hood until we decide otherwise. It is fixed in your body 
by a really intelligent way I don't intend to explain to you. It could only be removed by 
a second surgical operation. You'll not be able to take anything into your pussy. We 
help you keeping away from forbidden things."

She leaned close again. "Remember your sentence? It's three years. That means 
you can count on 36 months of total sexual abstinence. Now how do you like that?"

That bothered me. Since my imprisonment, I hadn't thought about sex until then. As 
soon as she mentioned it, I got horny. I would not have guessed anything like that, 
and I had not been willing to admit it to myself. There I was lying on a table as help-
less as an infant and this woman had just told me I was going to be without any sex-
ual relief for years! I sighed and involuntarily tried to touch my bare pubis, but the 
plasters denied any movement.

Joan giggled. "See what I mean?" she asked with unmasked amusement. "Although 
you are still feeling as the slut you had been, from now on you will have no choice 
than to behave like a nun. And there will not be provided any time for accustoming. If 
this is hard for you ... well, remember, you're punished, not comforted."

I could have kill her for telling me this horrible news in her cheery voice. And I could 
have kill her once again for inventing this devilish torture. But in reality, I could not. I 
could do nothing. Only to lay there, sobbing, with itching pussy and tear-wet face. In 
this state of multiple desperation, Joan left me alone.

The next days were like hell. I was helpless. Totally. Whoever thought up this crazy 
scheme knew what they were doing. They did not provide me anything entertaining 
while laying there. With my arms immobilized and nothing else in the room to distract 
me, I had no choice but to focus on the dull pain in my crotch, my increasing demand 
for sex and my many other discomforts.

I had a private room, thank God. The last thing I needed was some horny male psy-
cho taking advantage of me. The hospital wasn't air conditioned and it was July. I 
had nothing to do but laying there all day, sweating, being horny, thinking about my 
fate and suffering through Joan's cheerful visits.

Well, I did have some amusement. If you've ever had to wear a cast in the summer 
time you'll know all about the itch. After a while it drives you crazy. Not mentioning 
the other kind of itch between my legs. Not only the one coming from the re-growth 
of my pubic hair. With my arms being useless, my legs too heavy to squeeze them 
together and since there was no point in asking anyone to do it for me, all I could do 
was to grit my teeth and try to ignore the oldest itch of all. And it went not better after 
a few days, when the pain from the implantation of this terrible hood had subsided. 
Oh no! I became catched up in permanent sexual demanding. I never had been 
sooooo horny anytime in my life. I suspect it was not only from my strange situation. I 
would not wonder if they had put some aphrodisiac in my food.

As far as the nurses were concerned, I was a baby. They refused to talk to me no 
matter what I said to them and generally treated me as a newborn infant. The morn-
ing shift started at 7 AM. Two of them would come in, giving me a bed-pan, and 
bathe me. I felt so deeply ashamed, when the nurses could recognize my always 
rock-hard, demanding nipples and my dripping pussy. But I looked forward to them 
for more reasons than just plain refreshment. There was the sponge bath that went 
with it and the careful attention to my shaven pubis. I was starving for sexual contact 
and my box had become very sensitive to even the slightest touch, so when they 
wiped me there I just about swooned. I had come to understand why my pubic hair 
had been shaved. The feel of a washcloth rubbing up against my soft sex lips was 
almost more than I could bear, especially if the nurse pressed it more than usual 
down.

Then came the embarrassing procedure of re-shaving me. New touches to my itch-
ing pussy. New arousing sensations down there. New humiliation.

Then one of the aides would feed me my breakfast. I liked that because they 
cranked the head of the bed up and I got a different view for a few minutes. They, 
however, always lowered it again at the end of the meal and only by looking down 
my nose could I see Joan as she preached little sermons standing at the foot of my 
bed.

Joan would have done well as an intelligence officer. Each day she came in right 
after breakfast and gave me lots to think about after she left. I hated her for it. Joan 
glowed when she told me about the restraint belt that had been made, just for me.

When I asked her why such a belt would be necessary she replied, "Well, dear, we 
can't have you fiddling with yourself, now can we?"

She traced her long fingernails over my shaking belly. It made me horny, all the 
more because I wanted it so much and yet couldn't do a thing to stop her.

Now she was stroking my pubic lips. I wanted desperately to close my legs but the 
casts and weights were too heavy. I was beginning to breathe heavily and she no-
ticed, flashed me a cruel smile and then continued.

I grunted to stifle a moan of pleasure. The bitch! She was deliberately turning me on 
while she talked about the worst fate I could imagine. I looked down at my erect nip-
ples. Joan too was giving them a hungry look. I wondered if she was bi or gay.

Suddenly she snatched her hand away. I moaned in despair and struggled against 
my bonds. She watched me with her evil smile, before she resumed her perfidious 
task, until I went nearly crazy.

After Joan had left, I was frustrated and mad. The thought that I was going to wear a 
chastity belt, too, made me desperate for some relief.

It took her five days to describe just what the ASP was going to mean for me during 
the next 24 to 36 months. The more I heard, the more I wished I had chosen prison.

Joan and I were going to be living together. She assured me that her apartment was 
big enough and that I should give up mine and put my furniture in storage. As it 
turned out, I didn't have any choice. By the time she took me home, she had already 
called the storage company and cancelled my lease.

On the fifth day Joan told me I was to be released into her custody later that day. 
First the casts would have to come off and a few other "procedures" performed. I 
didn't like the sound of the last part but the idea of having my limbs back under con-
trol was wonderful.

As soon as Joan left, the nurses came in, removed my bedcover, and washed me 
once again. Then they departed, leaving me with my crotch fully exposed and that 
made me nervous. I sensed I wasn't going to like this one little bit.

Joan came back with a cute little beautician who carried a suspicious looking black 
case. She couldn't have been more than 18 and she stopped cold when she saw me.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, and turned to Joan. "You can't mean it."

"Indeed we do. Now, just think about that bonus I promised you and get to work. 
Your customer is incapable of giving you any trouble."

The beautician took another look at me. I gazed back, too embarrassed and curious 
to say anything. I could see the doubt written across her face. She came up to the 
bed and put her case down on the mobile table. I was curious as hell to know what 
she was up to and yet part of me didn't really want to know at all. I kept telling myself 
that, whatever it was, it was also part of my ticket out of there.

After she opened the case and I saw the electrolysis equip-maned I lost control and 
went nuts. I started cursing them both and struggling against the casts.

It turned out that I should have kept control of myself. Joan called in the two apes 
who shoved a feeding gag in my mouth and then gave me a shot to quiet me down. It 
did that, all right, but did nothing for the pain as this little kid of a girl started zapping 
my pubic stubble hairs, one by one.

I heard myself give a little grunt of pain every time the electric needle touched me. It 
wasn't that each touch was that bad, it was the number of times she had to touch me. 
She left in her wake a carpet of soreness that had my eyes watering in a few min-
utes.

The beautician stopped and looked up at Joan.

"I can't do this any more. I'm hurting her and it will only get worse when I get to the 
wet parts."

Joan had been watching the whole thing with a big smile.

"Don't you worry yourself about that, honey. This bitch is a prisoner and what you're 
doing is part of her punishment. She agreed to this rather than go to prison. Keep 
going. The law is on your side."

She went back to work and I went back to suffering. By the end of it, I had quietly 
vowed revenge on Joan. Just give me one good chance.

By the time she finished, my entire crotch felt hot and sore. The kid left, looking 
shaken. Then the apes came back with a young guy who leered at my bare breasts 
and stared at my shaved loins a lot while he cut the casts. As soon as each cast was 
off, Joan released the weight on that limb. I tried moving my arms and legs. After five 
days of forced immobility, they were stiff and weak but it felt delicious to have my 
body back.

Joan reached me a slip. It was made of some tough fabric and clinged very tight 
around my hips. I moaned as it rubbed over my tortured pubis. The she helped me 
up from the bed. My legs were very unsteady and I leaned on her while we took a 
few steps. Any move of the cloth on my swollen and sore pubis made me nearly 
scream. I started to cry from the pain but it was still wonderful to be out of that bed.

One of the nurses came in and gave me a shot of Adrenalin. That helped a lot. Then 
Joan got my clothes.

I looked at the blouse and mini skirt I had been wearing the day all this started. They 
looked as if they belonged to someone else. By now I knew that my fiesting days 
were over, at least for as long as ASP had control of me.

"Your mini skirt won't be appropiate," Joan said while I buttoned the blouse with 
shaky fingers, "so I brought you a better one."

It turned out to be one of those vinyl types that are supposed to look like leather. I 
hated it on sight but was in no mood for a fight. I just nodded and picked up my 
pantyhose. Joan pulled them from my hands.

"You can forget pantyhose and bras as long as you're in the ASP program. I want to 
have unrestricted access to your body. We'll get you some garter belts later."

I stepped into the skirt and pulled it up. Joan had guessed the size right but it 
pressed my legs constantly together, another constant reminder of my condition. I 
took a few steps. The feeling of rubbing my legs together was incredible. It shook me 
up. My sore pussy burned once again. But on the other side, it gave me the long-
missed sexy feeling between my legs.

"Joan, I can't go out in public like this! I'm so horny, I will come after a short walk!"

She gave me one of her special smiles, "You will not, Sandy. Think of the tiny in your 
slit."

And indeed, I realized, that the feeling while rubbing my legs was different to the one 
I had before my sentence. Yes, I could feel my pussy lips stimulated, but my clit 
seemed to be dead. Walking in this skirt would only make me hotter. I wailed.

I put on my black spike pumps and tried to get used to the height. I was still pretty 
weak and it took me a while to get the hang of it. Joan sat on the bed and looked at 
me as if I was a thoroughbred colt taking her first steps.

"Let's go," she said finally.

With a pounding heart, dry throat and burning crotch I took my first steps into the 
outside world as a chastised prisoner.

Part 2
**************

As soon as we got home from the State Mental Hospital, Joan showed me my room. 
It had once been her daughter's room, she told me. But now it did not look like that. It 
was very poorly furnished, only with a metal frame bed, a wooden chair, a plastics 
coated table and a closet. A chrome chain ran from the bed's head board half way 
down the bed.

"So your daughter's finally off the leash?"

I was feeling a lot better but as soon as I said the words I remembered that this 
woman controlled my comfort. Teasing her might not be healthy.

Joan fired me a sharp look.

"That little attachment was added just for you, dear. Thank you for reminding me 
about it. We've a little ceremony to go through. Please pull your blouse up."

I mentally kicked myself. I had learned by now that whenever Joan used a euphe-
mism, I wasn't going to like whatever it was. I did as I was told and stood there with 
my navel and the top of my rough-cloth panties exposed while she fished around in a 
drawer.

She held up a white belt and before I could say or do any-thing she put it around my 
waist. I heard a lock click shut. Taken by surprise, I looked down. It was made of 
what looked like thick white plastic. It was about two inches wide and fitted just 
snugly between my rib cage and my hips. It had a strange looking flat lock that didn't 
seem to have a key hole, and a small ring was mounted beside it. I looked up at 
Joan. This time I really didn't understand.

"What's all this about?"

By way of an answer, Joan pushed me forward a few feet and then grabbed the 
chain off the bed. The lock on its end was open. It only took her a second to put it 
through the ring on my belt and snap it closed. So, it really was a leash. Lucky me.

"See how smart you are" Joan grinned at me. I tried not to give her the satisfaction of 
seeing the panic I felt inside.

"Let me save you some time and trouble. There are steel wires embedded in the 
plastic so you can't cut it off. If I catch you trying, I'll make sure you regret it for a 
long time."

"Fine. So what's it for, anyway."

I had my guesses but I wanted to know.

Joan paced a circle around me, dragging her finger along the smooth surface of the 
belt. It un-nerved me.

"You'll wear this for the duration of your sentence. It has several unique features. It 
can be used to keep you in one place, if I desire. It contains a homing device so we 
can find you if you wander off, and it does something else you should know about."

I watched her take what looked like a remote control unit for a TV out of her purse. 
She keyed in a four digit number. Suddenly I felt an electric shock. I groaned out 
loud and fell to my knees, grabbing the bed for support while the horrible process 
took it's course. No matter how much I tried I was helpless to stop it.

When it was finally over, I found myself kneeling on the floor, half draped over the 
bed and trying to catch my breath. I wanted to curse Joan but by then I knew better. I 
looked up at her expecting her satisfied smile and wasn't disappointed.

"That," I gasped, "is very effective. How do you manage it?"

"That's not the point, dear. We use it to manage you."

She strolled over to the closet doors and opened them with a flourish. It contained 
some of my clothes, but other things, too. 

"I want you to continue to take care of your appearance and be sexually attractive to 
men at all times. Oh, during your sentence you will thoroughly learn how to reject 
their advances. You will wear make-up and perfume every day. Most of these clothes 
are acceptable. We will go shopping tomorrow to replace anything that is now too 
nutty for you."

She opened a drawer. It contained all my garter belts and some hosiery but no 
panties or bras.

"You will wear a garter belt and seamed stockings whenever you are outside this 
house and I'll warn you right now to keep your seams straight. As I told you in the 
hospital, pantyhose and bras are out of the question. The swinging of your boobs will 
serve as a permanent reminder of your status."

I began to get the drift. A quick glance at the open closet confirmed it. All of my low 
heeled shoes were missing, only the painfully high spikes remained. Joan wanted to 
make sure that I attracted much attention, eyes that would look me over and maybe 
guess that there was something funny about me when I moved. It wasn't enough for 
her to denie me sexual relief. She wanted the threat of exposure to hang over my 
head like a sword. Then there's the control belt. I imagined her hitting the buttons 
while we were in a crowded shopping mall and trembled with dread.

"Well, then, I'll let you 10 minutes to get refreshed and tidied up. Wash yourself, put 
on some make-up and do your nails. When you're ready, come to the living room 
wearing just your shoes," she paused and winked, "and, of course, the belt."

She unlocked the chain from my belt.

"The bathroom is down the hall to the left."

Without another word or glance she left me alone, confident of her ownership of me, 
leaving me to stare at the pile of stockings and the tangled web of garter belts.

I stood up, kicked off my shoes, and went to find the bathroom. I closed the door to 
the bathroom and enjoyed the first bit of privacy in more than a week. It was won-
derful to be alone. I took off the blouse, unzipped the vinyl mini skirt and tossed them 
both in a corner. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, naked but for that damned 
belt. I could clearly see the silver shining spot on top of my slit. I told myself I had 
best get used to the sight.

I went under the shower. The warm water and the freedom to move as I liked was 
wonderful. I washed my hair, for the first time in a week, and cleaned up my rear 
end. My pubis was still very sore from the electrolysis. I soaped it gently, not believ-
ing that it would be forever as bare as a girl's. Having the first opportunity to examine 
this devilish clit cap, I did it.

As soon as I touched this clit hood, a new shock of pain rushed through my privates. 
But my need for relief was now so demanding, I could not stop. Avoiding this 
damned cap, I massaged my cunt lips and my dripping hole, but it was frustrating. 
My clit seemed as dead, and I could not bring myself over the edge. Desperately I 
tried to finger my aching, demanding pussy. My fresh depilatoried pubis commented 
every try of fondling with new pain. I inserted a finger into my wet love hole. The re-
stricted feelings were not worth the pain immediately emited from this damned cap.

My spirits sank. I felt tears form in my eyes. It was all so strange, so awkward. Joan 
was right: From now on I was going to have to behave like a nun. Finally, I stood in 
the tub, panting, moaning, hornier than I ever had been.

I decided to return to my schedule. I dried myself up and returned to my room. I 
found my make-up in one of the dresser drawers. I could only think about my shel-
tered clit, so it was hard to concentrate on what I was doing. They had removed my 
nail polish in the hospital so it didn't take me long to do my hands and feet. Then I 
took all my courage to present myself in the nude, wearing only this prisoner belt. My 
breasts swayed freely as I waddled down to the living room. Both physically and 
emotionally I felt totally exhausted.

"Ah, good!" Joan said from her chair. "Are we feeling more comfy now after seeing 
that you will be secure against any bad attempts?"

Joan seemed to be able to read me like a book. I hated the childish tone. She was 
pushing more psychological buttons than she knew. I just nodded and waited for her 
to launch into the next act of the Punishment of Sandy. I wasn't looking forward to it 
at all.

"Good. I want you to come over here and kneel down."

I did as I was told.

"That's good. Now, sit back on your heels."

I did that too. Fortunately the position was comfortable. At least it took the pressure 
off my crotch.

Joan smiled down at me. I was the errant child being lectured to be a parent. She 
spoke to me as if I were a child.

"I will go over the rules with you once and only once. After today, any infractions will 
be punished. Do you understand?"

I nodded and she continued.

"Until the winter comes you will dress only in belt and shoes when in this house. This 
is so that I can check the condition of you at any time and to remind you that you 
are, after all, undergoing punishment under the law.

"You are not to sit on the furniture without permission. You are not to speak unless 
spoken to. You will do what you are told, when you are told and without complaint, 
no matter how embarrassing or uncomfortable you feel about it."

I nodded again, but my heart was sinking fast. It was going to be a long time.

"Masturbation is forbidden. If I catch you abusing yourself or even suspect it, you will 
be very sorry indeed. I have several chastity belts and won't be reluctant to use 
them."

I had only ever seen pictures of chastity belts but the thought of even the gentlest of 
them rubbing against my injured groin was enough to make me cringe.

"From time to time there will be visitors. You will obey them as you would me."

She stared down at me.

"Do you understand these rules?"

I nodded but she obviously wanted to hear me say it.

"Yes, Joan, I understand."

"Very good. Now come with me."

While I was in the bathroom, she had prepared dinner. We ate in silence. She sat at 
the table and I had mine while kneeling on the floor.

Later on she was watching TV in the den. I kneeled down on the floor in what I 
thought of as "the position" and tried to ignore the fact that I was constantly itching 
between my legs. Joan ignored me for the most part. When she got herself a beer 
from the kitchen she brought me one too. I didn't want it but since I hadn't been spo-
ken too, there was no way I could politely refuse.

After the late news, Joan turned off the TV.

"Time for bed, Baby. I suggest you go to the toilet before. It could be a long night."

Joan stood in the door, watching. I hated having her eyes on me while I performed 
this humiliating little ritual. 

I avoided looking at her while I laid naked on the bed but my legs were facing her 
and it bothered me to be so exposed to her. She was holding something out of my 
sight. I had to move the chain to crouch towards the pillow and I hated having to 
touch it.

"You've learned quickly. Now give me your hands."

I offered my hands as she tossed one leather mitten on the bed and began to fit the 
other one to me. I had seen these before. The hand is encased inside rigid leather or 
nylon, making the wearer helpless. You can't grasp anything with these things on, 
nor can you make a fist. As I watched her fasten the little buckles I prayed she would 
leave the damned belt controller alone. I just couldn't stand the thought of being 
forced to sleep in it.

When the mittens were fastened to her satisfaction, she locked the chain to the ring 
on my belt. Now I understood why she wanted me going to the toilet. There would be 
no possibility to use it until the morning.

"We can't have you getting into trouble, now can we?"

I didn't say anything.

She told me to sit on the edge of the bed. There was one last "appliance" that had to 
be fitted. It turned out to be what is called in the "S&M" trade a spreader bar, as I 
later found out. In this case, a piece of round wood about two feet long with cuffs 
attached to each end. This, Joan told me with obvious delight, would prevent me 
from squeezing my thighs together for pleasure. If she had any idea how badly my 
twat still hurt she could have saved herself the trouble.

She locked the cuffs and helped me swing my bound legs onto the bed. Then she 
pulled the covers up.

"There," she said, "we're all ready for the night. The chain and the spreader bar will 
make sure you don't wander off and the mittens will keep your hands out of trouble. 
Any last requests?"

"No, Joan. You've taken care of everything."

Despite my best efforts my tone was sarcastic. I regretted it immediately. Joan's face 
hardened.

"Be careful, Sandy. I'll let you off this time but if I hear that tone again I might just 
press some buttons."

Our eyes locked for a few long seconds.

"I'm sorry, Joan. I didn't mean it. Please don't do that."

My voice was soft but my pleas were real.

"Very well, then, but I think a small reminder is still in order."

She took a small dildo from one of the drawers. It had a retaining harness. She held 
it up where I could see it clearly.

"Your punishment will be to wear this for four hours tomorrow. You may choose 
when the four hours start. Remember to come and ask politely to have it inserted. If 
you ask nicely enough I may even let you use a little lubricant. Good night, dear."

As I said before, Joan would make a good intelligence officer. As I lay there trying to 
get comfortable all I could think of was having to go to her and ask her to strap that 
damned thing in my rear and then thank her for it! The more I thought about it the 
more depressed I got. Finally I started to cry. It was hell, not being able to wipe my 
own eyes.

Part 3
*************

I did finally get some sleep. It was almost noon when Joan came in to release me. 
She was all dressed up and I wondered what was planned. No clues were forthcom-
ing while she unlocked the spreader bar and removed my mittens. She unlocked the 
chain from my belt and told me to shower, put on make-up and be ready for her to 
supervise my dressing in ten minutes.

Groggy from sleep and stiff from being bound all night, I went stumbling to the bath-
room.

The shower revived me. I tried not to get my hair wet, to save time. As soon as I was 
towelled off, I ran back to my room. There I did a fast make-up job on my face. I was 
just dabbing on the perfume when she walked in with the air of a sergeant-major. As 
I put the perfume bottle back on the dresser, I saw the dildo and harness again. I 
wondered when I would be able to work up the courage to cope with that.

"We will be shopping today, dear. Your wardrobe needs a few additions."

Joan went to the closet and tossed out my red silk blouse and a black A-line skirt 
that came well above the knee. I gulped. The blouse was OK but I had never worn a 
garter belt under that skirt because my stocking tops showed through the rear slit. 
Since I hadn't been spoken to, I couldn't object without risking a punishment. I de-
cided that showing a little stocking wasn't as bad as what Joan could hand out.

I took too long to think about all this. Joan grabbed a garter belt and a new pair of 
stockings, still in the package, and handed them to me. She leaned against the door 
frame while I struggled with the belt. Joan looked on with amusement.

"Hurry, now, dear. You don't want me to assign you another punishment for tardi-
ness, now do you?"

Finally the belt was on and I sat on the floor to work on the stockings. They were 
black and had the reinforced heels that make some men slobber. I would be a sight, 
alright, especially in the four inch, black spike pumps that Joan was holding.

Once I had the stockings on and fastened, I stood up and immediately felt this 
damned rough panty rub my crotch. I let out a little gasp and Joan noticed.

I looked up at her with the most blank face I could muster. I hated the pressure she 
had me under.

It took a few minutes before I got my seams straight. Having Joan stare at me didn't 
help my concentration. Every so often I stole a glance at the waiting dildo and it's 
harness. It didn't look as big as some I had seen. Perversely, I wondered how it 
would feel to have that locked inside me for four hours.

The skirt barely fit over my hips and bottom. A chill ran down my spine as I looked in 
the mirror. Surely everyone would guess my secret with just one glance. The fear of 
discovery made me gasp. Joan cleared her throat as a warning.

I took the shoes from Joan and slipped them on. It felt so strange to feel so sexy in 
one sense and so bound up in another. I knew I looked good from the outside but 
the small item between my legs and the heat generated by unfulfilled desire damp-
ened any vanity.

Joan inspected me and even made me turn around so she could judge my seams. It 
was worse than being busted. She even made me take a few steps.

"You'll be happy to know that the tops of your stockings just show through the slit in 
your skirt" she said lightly.

I blushed by way of response.

I looked for my purse and Joan reminded me:

"Take some make-up if you want. And don't forget your little toy on the dresser!"

She watched the look of horror on my face for a few seconds and then slipped out 
the door. It was almost more than I could bear. I felt tears form in my eyes while I 
stared at the dildo and its harness. I couldn't cry or it would mean another make-up 
job, and a delay, that might mean another punishment. I sniffled back my tears, 
picked up the dildo and shoved it deep inside the purse. I hated to touch it. Then I 
hurriedly followed Joan.

I suddenly realized how much I had come to think in terms of avoiding a punishment, 
even though I had yet to experience my first one!

Joan had prepared a light breakfast. I just managed to stop myself from sitting at the 
table. I took my food and a large cup of coffee and slipped out of my pumps before 
kneeling on the floor. Joan cleared her throat and pointed to the shoes. I sadly 
guessed her meaning and stepped into them again before kneeling. Nothing helped 
pad my bottom from the sharp heels that dug into it, and there was no help for my 
feet, who protested painfully at being made to kneel in high heels. Joan wouldn't let 
me up until I had drained two cups of coffee.

Part 4
*****************

My worse fears about attracting attention were confirmed as soon as we set foot in-
side the mall. I was in the wrong colors and definitely over dressed for a hot summer 
day. Joan, on the other hand, looked cool and efficient in a light summer dress, no 
hosiery and low heels.

So it was I who got the hungry stares from the men, you know, the casual turning of 
the head as you pass. As I walked along I could feel the rough panty rubbing be-
tween my legs. It was getting heavier by the minute as I got more and more aroused. 
All this had distracted me from where Joan was taking me, one look at the lingerie 
store snapped me back to reality.

"Come, dear," she said sweetly, as if I were her niece, "We must improve your foun-
dations wardrobe."

I felt my face blanch and my throat go dry. I knew this store well, especially it's over-
sized changing rooms and the attentive staff that often came in with you to check the 
fitting. Normally I didn't mind it but then I wasn't in this special gear either. My mouth 
moved to make words but no sound came out. Then Joan grabbed one of my wrists 
and physically pulled me into the store.

Fifteen minutes later we were in one of those change rooms. Joan had gathered up 
a couple of lace up corsets and some garter belts. She had engaged the attention of 
a pert young sales clerk who had made a point of staring at me as soon as she saw 
my somehow strange way of walking.

"Strip down to your hosiery dear." Joan said sweetly.

Anyone overhearing her would never guess the evil in her intentions. I felt my hands 
begin to tremble. I looked at her, terrified of the sales clerk coming in. I shook my 
head, making my eyes do the pleading that was forbidden from my voice.

"You may speak," she said softly, finally.

"Please don't make me do this!" I whispered, trying to sound respectful and contrite 
at the same time.

"Do what? dear. I simply don't understand."

"I'm shaved" I whined and felt more than ever like a little girl. "Please, please, don't 
let the girl come in!"

I was almost sobbing with fear and shame but Joan didn't react at all.

I took a deep breath and began to fumble with the tiny buttons on my blouse. I was 
breathing heavily, trying not to sob out loud. Just then the sales girl came in with an-
other corset.

"This is the heaviest boning we carry, Madam," she said and handed it to Joan. Then 
she looked at me. "Is she alright? Is there anything I can do?"

"No, thank you," Joan, said with artificial sadness. "She has a little problem but we're 
about to take care of it. Would you please bring us some garters for this corset?"

The girl had caught sight of the open purse and its contents. I felt her staring at me. I 
could have died right then. The girl mumbled something and then disappeared.

Somehow I managed to get my blouse off, but my hands were trembling too badly to 
manage the button at the back of the skirt. Joan had to unfasten it for me.

"You'd better make this a fast change if you want to be covered by the time she 
comes back."

I let the skirt drop to the floor and stepped out of it. Then I fumbled with the garter 
belt until it too was loose. There I stood, in seamed stockings and high heels when 
the sales clerk strolled right in.

We both gave little gasps, me from embarrassment and her from surprise. Stunned, 
we seemed to stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Joan calmly took the 
garters from the girl's outstretched hand.

My face felt hot and flushed and I was transfixed by terror, frozen. The girl began to 
back out of the room with her mouth hanging open. Soon I could hear excited voices 
talking about me.

"Look what you've done!" I blurted out and instantly was sorry for it. Joan's face 
showed a flash of smile and then took on that stern facade that I had already 
equated with trouble.

"Get on with it!" she hissed. "It's a good thing we brought your little toy along. You 
can cope with it for six hours -- starting now!"

I gulped and sobbed but Joan had succeeded in breaking my trance. Tears ran 
down my cheeks. I didn't care about my make-up any more. Joan had taken the dildo 
out of the bag and was untangling its harness. My rosebud tensed up in fear of its 
impending violation. I peeled down my panties and Joan whispered that I was to 
kneel on all fours.

It must surely be the most humiliating position there is. I did as she asked, present-
ing my bottom high in the air, ready for its punishment. I watched her shoes pace 
around until she was in front of me. The black plastic intruder was presented to my 
lips.

"Lick it!" she hissed, "Or do you want me to put it in dry?"

I closed my eyes and licked.

Suddenly she pulled it away and went around behind me again. I was choking with 
fear of what it would feel like. Never had I allowed anybody to penetrate me from the 
rear in any way. And there was the thought that the sales girl could walk in at any 
moment. The seconds dragged by. I dared not turn and look. I stared at the carpet. 
Then I felt it, a gentle pressure at first but then opening me, forcing me apart. I re-
membered that the dildo had a bulge near the tip that was wider than the shaft. I bit 
my lip and tried to keep myself loose back there but fear made me want to tighten 
up. Deeper and deeper it came, parting me more widely that I had ever been before. 
I gasped and sobbed but Joan took no notice. I imagined its progress and prayed for 
the bulge to pass soon.

Finally I felt the worst was over. There was only the thick, black shaft to distend my 
virgin rose bud. It was not as uncomfortable now but the device's steady progress 
reminded me with every fraction of an inch that I was being violated. It was all I could 
do to hold still while this slow careful rape was being perpetrated on my body.

When I felt Joan fumble with the harness a great rush of breath came out of me. I felt 
weak, dirty and shamed. The invader was stuck inside me like a finger pointing to my 
sins. Joan tightened the harness slowly, making sure I was away of every strap and 
every buckle.

As I got up, I felt the intruder shift a little. It couldn't be ignored. Every little move-
ment reminded me of its presence. I had just pulled my panties into place when the 
clerk came back. Silently she began to fumble with my garter belt.

"Put her into this corset and come for me when she's ready," Joan said with authority 
and left.

She had chosen her words carefully, the suggested meaning registered on the girl's 
face.

The girl loosened the laces and I lifted my arms while she wrapped the heavily 
boned garment around my body. Then she started the slow task of passing those 
thin strands through the tiny eyelets.

"I'm Carole," she whispered.

I didn't want to talk but I whispered my name.

"It must be awful, I mean, about the dildo."

"You don't know the half of it."

"Is she mean to you?"

I nodded. It was better not to say anything Joan might overhear.

"She wants this tight, you know. Can you stand it? I can adjust it so it looks tighter 
than it is."

"She would find out." I said in a choked voice.

"I like the seams."

"That's so I'll get more attention."

Carole knew her stuff when it came to lacing corsets. She pulled and tugged, starting 
at the bottom, which gave her ample opportunity to brush my panties. Near the end I 
was grunting every time she pulled hard. She attached the garters, stepped back 
while I pulled up my stockings and then helped me straighten the seams.

I felt so imprisoned, so bound. Worst of all was the hard plug in my behind that 
moved with me, reminding me of Joan and her power over me. I noticed that even 
the garters seemed unusually tight when I took a few trial steps. It was hard to 
breathe. Carole went to fetch Joan.

Joan did her inspection.

"Good!" she exclaimed. "Perfect. She'll wear it home. We'll take the other corsets 
and the garter belts. Have you any stockings, and I mean stockings, like the one's 
she's wearing?"

Carole nodded and Joan ordered six pairs.

I took my time getting ready to leave the change room. Miserable as I was from the 
restricting corset, my hornyness and the damned plug in my rear, I was more afraid 
of facing the sales clerks who must surely have been told about me. I tried to repair 
my make-up. Finally there was nothing left to do. I picked up my purse and felt my 
knees shake as I stepped back out into the real world.

The only clerk not at the back of the store to get a good look at me was the girl who 
had seen my dildo. She was at the cash with Joan. The others stopped their conver-
sation and stared at me. I could feel their eyes searching me for some visible sign of 
what they had been told. My lower lip began to tremble. I was close to tears. I saw 
Joan watching me, smiling with the satisfaction of torturing me with public exposure. 
Part of me wanted to scream but the butt plug was a constant reminder to be good. 
Always be a good little girl, Sandy.

Part 5
**************

I don't remember much else about that wicked trip to the shopping mall. I didn't see 
or feel the world around me very much. I was too absorbed in my own little world of 
punishment. My world was humiliation, hornyness and pain. The spike pumps hurt 
my feet but I wasn't allowed to take them off for even a few minutes. The seamed 
stockings felt nice but they had to be adjusted almost constantly. Joan insisted I do 
this standing in the middle of the mall and in full view of everybody. Of course, this 
drew male attention like flies to honey. The garters were too taut for comfort and 
when one of them would come undone, I had a hell of a time re-fastening it without 
showing my panties. They still rubbed on my pussy and made it sore. The corset was 
heavily boned and laced very tight. It constricted my waist, making my hips look even 
bigger. It crushed my breasts and made it hard to breathe. Then there was the butt 
plug strapped tightly into my virgin rosebud, distending, stretching and reminding me 
of its presence with every movement of my body.

After returning home, Joan didn't say or do much to me. I had to strip naked, but the 
plug remained until bedtime, when she finally removed the plug. I could see from the 
look on her face that she had enjoyed the day tremendously.

"You haven't had an orgasm today, have you?" she asked wickedly as she helped 
me move my legs, bound to the spreader bar, onto the bed. The mittens had been 
fitted and I was locked onto my leash. All nice and comfy for a good night's sleep. 
Suspicious of her tone, I didn't answer, I just shook my head.

She began to pull the covers into place (always too many so I would be hot and un-
comfortable all night). She was very efficient. I wondered how long it had taken her 
to figure out this little routine. I cried for a little while and then, to my surprise, fell 
asleep.

By the time Joan came for me in the morning, she released me from my many re-
straints and congratulated me on "being good".

As soon as I stood up, I immediately felt my clit hood and became again horny as 
hell. I moaned in frustration and had to take all my will to keep me from rubbing my 
legs against each other. Joan looked at me with a bad grin and then added:

"Oh, I have to go out for a while. You had better bring me one of the restraint belts 
from your dresser as soon as you are finished."

Restraint belt? I had a flashback of Joan in the hospital. I heard her voice again, "we 
can't have you fiddling with yourself."

I began to tremble. It was unfair! I had done what was asked of me. I had lain terribly 
horny and sore all night without complaint. Now there was something more. There 
was always something more. I was trembling by the time I came back from the bath-
room. It was hard to walk toward my closet, open the drawers one-by-one until I 
found the instrument of torture that had been prescribed for me.

It was basically a chastity belt, but the part that ran between the legs was wide and 
there were big, efficient locks. Joan was sitting at the breakfast table when I brought 
it to her. She ignored me for a few seconds while she finished her coffee. I was so 
scared and miserable by then that the tears were streaming down my face and it was 
all I could do not to sob. Finally she took the tangle of leather straps from my hand 
and looked up at me.

"Come, come, Sandy. It's not all that bad, now."

I shook my head in mute argument. How could she know? How could she guess 
what it would feel like to have that wide strap tightened against the full seat of my 
crotch, pressing against my skin? Then I remembered my sore pubis. I started to cry 
in earnest.

There was no sympathy in Joan's eyes. She evaluated me coldly.

"If you don't shut up immediately I'll find a way to keep you quiet, young lady!"

I was in trouble again and I knew it but I was beyond common sense by then.

"Please, Joan," I sobbed, " I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want. I just want to be 
saved from that thing!"

She stood up. In her heels she was at least three inches taller than me. I suddenly 
realized that I had gone too far. I was going to get punished even worse.

"I'm sorry." I sputtered but I already knew it was too late.

Half an hour later I was crying for a far different reason. The restraint belt was snug 
and locked but that wasn't the worst part. Joan had taken me to the basement where 
she had one of those treadmill walking machines. You have to keep walking or the 
conveyer belt carries you off the platform. Except, I wasn't going to let that happen, 
at least if I wanted to keep my nipples. You see, Joan had produced a pair of nipple 
clamps. After making sure that their hot little teeth were firmly sunk into my tender 
buds, she chained them to the front of the machine. I was wearing a posture collar 
that kept my head arched up. A chain ran from it, down my back, to the handcuffs 
that kept my wrists behind my back. She had also made me put on my highest pair of 
spike heels.

There was nothing to do but walk, cry and take stock of my sore points. The pres-
sure on my poor pubis was almost unbearable. I gasped with the pain and then 
started to cry even more from that. Just minutes after she had started the damned 
machine and left on her errands, my pussy began to scream about the belt that 
rubbed against it with every step. My feet were killing me from the heels and the nip-
ple clamps felt like red-hot pokers. I tried to ignore it; the most important thing was to 
keep track with this damn conveyer. I had to keep walking, keep the nipple chain 
slack, don't think, just survive. She was only gone an hour but it felt like a week.

The bitch sat down and watched me for a few minutes before she turned off the ma-
chine and unclipped the nipple chain. As the blood and feeling returned to my buds, 
I began to scream my pain into the air. Joan waited patiently for me to finish. After 
she let me off the conveyer, I fell into her arms, sobbing, and meaning every word 
about how sorry I was and how good I was going to be from now on.

"I know you will be, baby" she said maternally as she started to release me from the 
restraint belt and the tower shoes. "You've learned a good lesson today. Now you 
may go and shower and repair your make-up. Remember the rules, especially about 
touching yourself."

I stumbled upstairs and went into the bathroom. There, I climbed into the tub and 
turned on the water. At first the water felt good but as I began to relax, all the abused 
parts of my body began their protests. My nipples burned and ached from the needle 
clamps, my legs and feet were sore from walking in the high heels, and my abused 
pussy screamed its protest when I let the full force of the shower hit it. Defeated, I 
cleaned myself up as best I could and then ran a tepid bath. It was all my body could 
tolerate.

As I lay in the gentle water and savored my privacy I realized, to my surprise, that I 
didn't hate Joan for what she had done to me. A little voice inside me kept repeating 
over and over, `you have been a bad girl and now you must be punished'. I believed 
that voice.

I looked down at my shaven pubis. I wanted to touch it, to see what a bare pussy felt 
like. The little voice told me that Joan could come through the door at any second 
and, anyway, she would find out somehow. So, I just stared at it.

Just thinking about sex, I felt the old, familiar itch start. `Forbidden!', the little voice 
screamed and I obeyed. Touching myself would only bring trouble and I had enough 
for one day. I stood up and began to dry myself off.

By the time I had finished, I was feeling pretty good, all things considered. Before I 
started back toward my room, I felt a strange spasm from deep inside my vagina. I 
never could imagine before, how it was being so extremely horny, starving for carnal 
relief. My punishment wasn't over yet.

In my room, I used the end of a comb to poke in my vagina in desperate search for 
any undangerous relief. It was useless. I didn't feel enough from that small thing. 
Deep inside my body my hormones were at work and I was troubled from knowing 
what the effects would be. I cleaned up my room, made the bed and reluctantly went 
to find Joan.

As I went down the hall, I caught my reflection in the mirror and stopped. It was a 
strange sight, this mid-20's woman with an attractive face and good figure wearing 
just a plastic belt and high heeled shoes. I could see how red and sore my nipples 
looked and my face was drawn from lack of sleep. By stripping me of clothes, Joan 
had taken away my image as a honorable woman. Like a slut, I was made to parade 
around in whatever state of dress or undress the guardian decreed. My breasts were 
left free, making me blush with every of their sways.

I remembered Joan's decree about make-up and padded back to my room to obey. 
Somehow, the device between my legs seemed thicker and the feel of the carpet 
beneath my bare feet that much stranger.

I did the best I could considering my sinking mood and another round of itches be-
tween my love lips. A dab of perfume and I set out again to find my mistress.

Joan must have heard my approach because she was looking right at me when I 
entered the living room.

"Ah, there you are. More comfy now, I presume?"

An alarm bell went off in my head but I couldn't figure out why. She normally didn't 
talk to me at all, let alone like this, unless...

I turned to see the judge who had sentenced me to Joan's care, sitting in a chair, 
looking very pleased with himself. At first, I felt mad at Joan for not warning me to 
dress. Then, I realized that she didn't want me to dress. She wanted me displayed, 
her sex prisoner, in full gear and nothing to hide it. Instinctively, my arms began to 
move toward my breasts, false modesty to be sure, but a second instinct told me to 
forget it. It was humiliation time. Another itch from my pussy reminded me that there 
might be more to this than a little peek show.

In the court room I had dubbed him an old fart but a closer look now changed my 
mind. He was staring at me alright but it wasn't the leer of a dirty old man. Despite 
his pot belly and sagging neck there was power emanating from this man and the 
cold, calculating look of appreciation in his eyes scared me.

Joan's voice echoed in the room, "Dear, you remember Judge Wilkins, of course. 
We've just been discussing your progress and your future."

"So we meet again, young lady, but not in my court. I'm now confident that we'll not 
be conducting that kind of offence together again. Joan has been telling me of the 
rules you must live by and what happens when you don't. I'm sorry I wasn't here this 
morning to see your first taste of real punishment but I'm sure we'll have an opportu-
nity to share that experience together soon."

I looked back at Joan, feeling like a child whose parents have betrayed her latest 
misdeeds to the dinner guests. I trembled with dread and sadness. I didn't know 
what the judge was hinting at but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like it at all. Joan 
pointed at the floor and I obediently assumed `the position'. Almost immediately I 
sensed the pressure on my intimate spot. I felt my face go pale and I bit my lip, the 
taste of lipstick surprising me.

Both of them had noticed my distress.

"The clit hood, I take it?" said the judge.

I nodded.

"Well then, I want you to come here so I can have a closer look at you."

Panic-stricken, I looked at Joan. She smiled and nodded, my sentence was con-
firmed. I got up slowly, trying to keep myself calm. As I moved toward the judge, I 
realized that Joan's dildo treatment had taken its toll on my control. I was breathing 
heavily with desire by the time he reached out and grabbed me around the waist with 
both hands, bringing me to sit on his knee. I was rigid, but more from the effort to 
keep myself reacting too slutty than from revulsion at his touch.

He began to move his hands over my naked rear, caressing it almost reverently. He 
made little cooing sounds when he noticed my damaged nipples. When I felt one of 
his hands slip beneath my rear globes, I tried to forced myself to stare at the floor 
but instead, found myself looking at the tent his erection made in his suit trousers. 
Immediately, my pussy convulsed and cried for a cock. He urged me to stand while 
his left hand cupped my ass. I moaned with frustration, humiliation and the effort of 
trying to hold back my emotions.

Then he sent his right hand down my belly, searching for the bared little mound. I 
was afraid he would make me horny but not let me come. He fondled my slit and be-
gan to massage my neither lips. At first the misused flesh protested his touch, how-
ever, it didn't take long before I felt myself get wet. Despite my best efforts at self 
control, I felt my body respond. My next moan was of pleasure.

The hand at my ass disappeared. He began to work on my breasts, first with his 
hand and then adding his tongue. It had been soooo long and I was hot. I felt the 
orgasm begin to build even as the pain from the soreness of my nipples made me 
clench my buttocks and grit my teeth. It was a bittersweet chorus of pleasure and 
painful spasms.

"You seem troubled, my dear. Would you like me to stop?"

His voice seemed far away. I was lost in my own little world but somehow I managed 
to shake my head. A soft moan of frustration escaped my parched throat. His fingers 
increased their stroking and massaging, responding to my little grunts of pleasure. 
He was skilled and knew how to find the right places.

Suddenly he stopped. I grunted in surprise and momentarily lost my concentration. It 
was the chance for which my body had been looking, and it has gone. Involuntary 
muscle contractions shattered my lower body. I took a step backward, engulfed in 
the fading arousal and the escalating revulsion of having lost control of myself.

Paralyzed, I stared down at him while he grinned at me broadly. I heard little whim-
pers and then realized that I was making those sounds. His face had taken on color. 
His eyes were bright as if he had been drinking. He didn't even blink as he drank in 
the scene of my desperation. He licked his lips and suddenly I realized that he had 
gotten what he wanted. There never would have been an orgasm. He wanted me to 
confuse pleasure and pain. He wanted to use me like a toy, to amuse himself, to 
have pleasure from my discomfort.

By the time I got my breath back, I felt dirty, ashamed and humiliated. Suddenly I 
couldn't look at him any more and stared at the floor.

"It's just as well you didn't come," Joan said almost consolingly, "it would have meant 
a week in chastity belts."

I thought about that for a second and then began to cry, silently. My single sob broke 
the thick silence in the room.

"It's time to get things put right," the judge said, "starting with this."

I didn't have to look to know what he was talking about. Part of me had already 
guessed that servicing him was in the game plan. I used to enjoy blowing a man but 
not now, not wearing a wicked device over my aching clit threatened to cause me 
pain the first time I touched it; and especially not for a man who had just robbed me 
of a much needed orgasm.

There was no point making things worse by resisting. I thought of the treadmill 
downstairs and how much this guy would love to get his rocks off by watching me go 
through that horror again. I licked my lips. My mouth was so dry it was going to be 
hard to do it right. When I finally got up enough nerve to look at him, I wasn't sur-
prised to see that he had already dropped his pants and was fondling his pole rever-
ently. I wanted to check with Joan but discovered she had left the room. That made 
me anxious. What was she up to now?

My head hanging, I went to him and kneeled carefully. No matter how awful I felt, 
things would only get worse if I performed poorly. I took him into my mouth and be-
gan to work my tongue up and down his shaft. I was rewarded with a soft moan and 
a congratulatory pat on the back. I just prayed he wouldn't try to caress my bum 
again.

I tried my very best to please him. My mouth was sucking, stroking, rubbing, finding 
out what he likes and then give him all he wants until I would get a mouthful of cum. 
Normally I did this only for a man who had attracted me. This time I was doing it to 
thank someone for robbing me of an orgasm and making me humiliate myself. It 
seemed so absurd.

He came in a great chorus of moans and cries, shooting gobs of the stuff against the 
back of my throat. I was so dry that I was almost grateful for the fluid. I cleaned him 
up with my tongue and then carefully stood up, trying not to look him in the face 
again.

"Well done," he said while putting his pants on.

I heard Joan come back into the room.

"Here's a little reward."

I looked over to see her holding a feeding bag, hose and restraint gag over a plastic 
sheet on the floor. I whimpered my protest. I had been good. I had done everything 
they wanted. Why couldn't they leave me alone?

Joan pointed to the floor. I knew by now that it was useless to protest so I went over 
and kneeled down, feeling the urge in my loins grow again when I sat back on my 
heels. I noticed the judge was watching carefully as Joan locked my wrists behind 
my back with a pair of steel cuffs and then fitted the feeding gag into my mouth, 
tightening all the straps more than was necessary, considering I didn't have any 
hands. Joan put the bag on the top shelf of a bookcase, warned me not to pull it off 
and turned on the valve that sent a rush of baby formula into my mouth. I started 
swallowing, it was that or drown.

I was doing fine until Joan blindfolded me. It was the stroke of a genius really. Sud-
denly my world was confined to the feeling of my aching breasts, my sore legs and 
the residual arousal in my pubis. I listened to the rhythmic sounds of my constant 
swallowing and started to cry. I didn't care what they did to me any more. Eventually, 
I tuned into the conversation and realized with horror that my fate was being de-
cided.

"You've done well with her in so short a time," said the judge.

"Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation. She's the fourth, isn't she?"

"From your program. Cindy and Samantha have had more traditional training. I'm 
intrigued. I definitely want her for my collection."

"Of girls in pain? You're a real nice guy. I think that you would find her range of use 
a bit of a nuisance. Besides, I'm not sure I'm finished with her. Those medic folks are 
willing to pay well for accurate testing her chastity hood. How about taking her for a 
couple of days a week? That will give me time to find another girl and get her started 
and you can have your fun."

"I'll want her all night sometimes."

"That can be arranged. I want her restrained at night but you can handle that, I'm 
sure."

The judge laughed, "There are advantages to having your home and office in an old 
police station."

They talked some more about other things. I had heard enough to go into panic. 
Joan was hard to cope with but she was predictable and followed her own rules. The 
judge liked to inflict pain. That was another story. It sounded as if I had better endear 
myself to Joan if I wanted to stay out of his clutches on a permanent basis. Finally 
my feeding bag was empty. Joan released me and ordered me to get cleaned up and 
changed in ten minutes.

I went through the ritual mechanically, my mind distracted by what I had heard. I did-
n't even care about how badly the shower hurt. Back in my room I found some baby 
scent Vaseline and coated my pubic area with it. I also used a lot of powder to try 
and prevent more rash. Just as I was starting to leave my room, Joan walked in and 
told me to get ready to go out to dinner. My costume was to be a mini skirt, high 
pumps and a sexy blouse. She pulled the clothes from my closet and then, as an 
after thought, she found a pair of pink plastic panties with lace ruffles sewn across 
the seat. I was told to put these on.

Fear gripped me as I struggled with the clothes and tried to control my shaking 
hands enough to put on make-up. Fear of exposure, fear of discovery, fear of hu-
miliation, it was all the same. Despite having been made to drink two quarts of baby 
formula my mouth was dry again.

One last look in the mirror. Yes, the ruffles peaked out from underneath the mini 
skirt. Joan called me from the other room. I was out of time. I had to go out looking 
like this and the two of them were likely going to enjoy it all.

The judge leered at me and told me to model the outfit for him. I did a few steps and 
a model's spin. He laughed, smiled, and said I looked "perfect". I guess Joan saw 
the look on my face because she told me to start smiling or she would make sure I'd 
regret the consequences.

The judge drove a Lincoln. By the time we reached the $50 a plate restaurant, I had 
more important things to worry about. The valet took the Lincoln and the judge es-
corted his ladies into the posh lobby. My face was beet red and I kept looking about 
anxiously to see if anyone was staring. When I caught my reflection in a full length 
mirror, I wanted to die from embarrassment. I didn't know how I was going to walk 
across the floor of the restaurant without stopping every conversation in the room. 
Joan grabbed my elbow and told me to hurry up. There was to be no time for self-
pity.

I got a lot of stares as we were led to our table but I didn't exactly stop the show. 
When the Maitre d' Hotel held my chair for me, I could feel his eyes burning into my 
impressive cleavage. I swear he deliberately touched my breasts while adjusting the 
chair.

The judge ordered Martinis for Joan and himself and a Shirley Temple for me. Just 
as he was bringing them, Joan dropped her cigarettes.

"Pick them up!" she ordered.

The bitch! She knew what she was doing. I felt a tremor of fear course through my 
body. With all the eyes already on me, there was no way I could bend down without 
showing my rear end to the entire restaurant. She repeated the command again and 
this time I saw her take the remote controller for my belt out of her purse. I didn't 
need any more encouragement. I dipped down as fast as I could and handed her the 
smokes. She had that satisfied look on her face that made me hate her the way a 
child loathes a parent for handing out punishment. I took a quick glance around. It 
confirmed that I had become the topic of conversation at most of our neighboring 
tables. The men turned and stared. The women gave me penetrating side-long 
looks. I wondered what would happen if I made off for the ladies' room.

They didn't talk to me during the meal but I kept my ears open. I found out that the 
judge had two girl slaves who worked in his private offices. Both had been offered 
the chance to escape prison by cooperating with him. Officially it was called Super-
vised Parole with the judge as the Parole Officer. As far as I could tell the girls would 
have been better off in the joint. The judge put the cells in the basement of his office 
(a former police station) to good use. The girls were basically his prisoners and he 
obviously enjoyed creative ways to correct their real or perceived misdeeds.

I was feeling sick at the prospect of being delivered into this guy's clutches. I thought 
of escape but most of my friends were decent people who didn't know about my drug 
affair and were too straight to be able to cope with me turning up in this special pris-
oner's outfit and the law on my tail. I wasn't going to get very far. Even if I had 
money, I was legally under Joan's jurisdiction. If I went to the papers, the judge 
would pull some strings. I would still have to go back to Joan but with even more 
punishment coming my way. There was nothing else to do but to stay with Joan.

Part 6
******************

I was wearing a slit skirt that showed the tops of my stockings when we arrived to the 
Judge's office the next morning. One look at the old-fashioned precinct building 
brought back many unpleasant memories from my arresting.

Joan's car carried a suitcase with some clothes for me, and a box of Joan's favorite 
restraint toys that she had insisted on packing herself when I was out of the room. I 
was supposed to be staying only two days but I guessed the extras were for Cindy 
and Samantha, the Judge's current charges.

We used a side entrance that took us right into the cell blocks. I could see that two 
of the four cells were in use. There was female clothing, make-up and the beds were 
neatly made. Even though I was scared at being given to the Judge for his pleasure, 
I was also intently curious about what went on here. There was a thick ring embed-
ded in the wall over each bed, including the one that would be mine. That didn't sur-
prise me much. What did catch my eye and make me wonder, was the curtain track 
that ran down the middle of the ceiling and into every room, including the cells. It 
was like a one-track railway.

There were no cupboards in my cell, just shelves. Joan made me lay out my few be-
longings, including the dildo gear and the restraint belt, and all my sexy clothes very 
neatly. It was all in full view and I felt my face blush in anticipation of how people 
would react to it. I noticed that she disappeared with her box of toys for a few min-
utes. By the time we were ready to go upstairs and meet the Judge and his girls, my 
stomach was in knots and I was sweating with fear. This was a bad place, a house of 
pain. I could feel it.

I noticed that the ceiling track ran up the stairs. I was really getting curious about it. 
One look at the two girls who worked in the Judge's office answered all my ques-
tions.

We were in a plush reception area. There was one desk for the receptionist and a 
computer terminal set on a counter high table. A large oak door led into the Judge's 
private chambers. The bars had not been removed the windows and the vertical 
shadows reinforced the prison like atmosphere of the place.

There were two women in the room, each dressed in a tight black leather mini skirt, 
white silk blouse, seamed opera hose and impossibly high black patent spike 
pumps. The girl at the stand-up terminal was a brunette who had a good figure. One 
glance told me that she wore stockings and it didn't take much imagination to figure 
out that the judge liked the way the tops of her stockings showed every time she 
moved even an inch. A long, thin, brass chain was affixed to the track on the ceiling 
over her head by a rolling device. It trailed downward, almost reaching the floor, be-
fore it ran upward again. Upward, alright, until it disappeared under the woman's 
skirt. I felt my heart stop cold.

I looked at her companion, a petite blonde with impeccable make-up, who was 
working at the desk. It was a modern, glass topped affair that gave her no modesty. 
Sure enough, another gold chain ran upward from behind her chair until it met a 
roller attached to the ceiling track.

"May I help you?" she asked sweetly, betraying nothing of what I had been told of 
this place.

"Joan and Naughtycunt to see the Judge," Joan said officiously. "We are expected."

While I cringed and blushed at Joan's reference to me, the girl didn't even blink. She 
wrote down our names on a slip of paper and rose from her chair. Without conscious 
effort she grasped the chain and pulled it with her, along its track, as she covered 
the few steps to the Judge's door.

I stared until my eyes ached. Somehow that chain was attached to her under her 
skirt. My curiosity about how that was accomplished was fighting my fear of finding 
out. There's not a lot to attach a chain to between a girl's legs. The few ideas I had 
didn't make me feel any better.

She knocked, opened the door, and then entered, dragging her chain along with her. 
It was then that I noticed the strange black metal thing around her right ankle. I re-
minded myself to get a better look when she came back.

"Welcome!" the Judge bellowed through the open door and invited us to join him.

He also called to Samantha, the other girl, to join us.

His office was huge, almost the full size of the building. His massive desk was set at 
the far end of the room, giving him a commanding position. There was a lot of leather 
furniture. I noticed a few well placed eyebolts in the walls but what really got my 
pulse going was the cruel looking riding crop that rested on its own little stand 
across the front of the Judge's desk.

I heard the scrap of the brunette's chain before she appeared in the door. She was 
very pretty but her face was drawn from fatigue or pain, or maybe a combination of 
the two. She moved carefully, and, yes, wore the same metal device around her right 
ankle. Styled like the spurs on an equestrian's boots, it was made of dull black metal 
and had one purpose, to prevent the poor soul from taking off her painfully high 
shoes for even a moment's relief.

The Judge invited us all to be seated. Joan sank into an over stuffed leather chair 
while my companion slaves and I assumed "the position", kneeling on the floor in 
skirts so short that all our secrets showed. I looked up at the Judge who sat opposite 
me. He was studying me as if I was a new car.

"I'm so pleased we've been able to work something out," he said to Joan.

"I am too, Judge. Remember, I want her back in the same condition. You play a little 
too rough for my taste."

He laughed like a Gestapo officer.

"Very well, I'll behave myself. If she fails to please me it will go all the worse for 
Cindy and Samantha."

So, he was going to exercise his passions on these two pitiful souls. Both were still, 
their hands folded in their laps, eyes cast down when they weren't steeling glances 
up my skirt, the strange chains running up to the ceiling. I could see that Samantha, 
the brunette, was very uncomfortable. She was trying hard not to shift about but 
wasn't having much luck.

"I just want to experiment with some of your techniques," he said and that really did-
n't make me wonder.

Before anything else could be said, a small chime went off. The Judge looked at his 
watch.

"My, is it that time already?" He turned to the girls. "Who has the duty today?"

Cindy raised her blonde head and sadly whispered, "I do."

"Then I suggest you get on with it, my dear. There's nothing to be gained by waiting. 
Be considerate of our guests!"

"Yes sir," she whispered and slowly rose to her feet.

She dragged her chain with her as she moved toward the Judge's desk. I had no 
doubt as to the purpose of her errand.

I heard a sniffle and looked at Samantha. She was trembling and trying hard not to 
cry. Her face was red and she could barely contain herself. A quick glance at Cindy, 
who now held the riding crop, confirmed my guess.

"Do you wish to speak?" the judge said to Samantha.

She nodded.

"Please, Master, not again. Not so soon. I just can't take it anymore!"

The words were soft, plaintive. I felt sorry for her.

I heard the scraping of Cindy's chain as she returned with the crop. The Judge's face 
had lost its smile. I was sure there was going to be trouble.

Suddenly Joan spoke up.

"Let Sandy take it instead," she said as if it were a spare cup of coffee.

Now it was my turn to tremble. I looked at the thin crop in Cindy's hands, then at the 
Judge's face and then at Joan who had betrayed me. I didn't need to hear the an-
swer. The broad smile said it all.

"Very well, then. Why don't we let the two girls get acquainted by swapping experi-
ences. Sandy can take Samantha's punishment and Samantha can have a taste of 
Sandy's. Cindy, you may proceed accordingly."

The blonde came over to me. She was cool and collected but there was sympathy in 
her eyes.

"Stand up, please."

After I did, she told me to stand behind one of the vacant chairs, with my back to the 
Judge and Joan. My throat went dry and I found it hard to walk. As soon as I was in 
position, I heard her voice again.

"Bend over, please, and raise your skirt."

I felt the cool air kiss my naked flesh between the tops of my stockings and the 
panties. I could feel my hands tremble with the fear that raced through my body.

"This," the judge intoned, "is the routine punishment. Each day, one girl or the other 
has the duty of chastising the other. If there is any lack of enthusiasm or application 
of the crop, the slacker will receive extra strokes when her day comes. I believe 
Samantha has earned five strokes. The punishments are delivered mid-morning, 
mid-afternoon and immediately before retiring. You may begin."

I heard the whistle of the crop as it sliced the air and then a band of white heat ex-
ploded across the backs of my thighs. I heard myself cry out but the second blow cut 
off my scream and the third blow robbed me of breath. I tensed in time for the fourth 
blow and screamed again when the fifth arrived.

I came to my senses slowly. I could hear myself crying. I was still bent over the chair. 
Cindy put her hand on my shoulder and helped me to stand. I felt the back of my 
thighs. There were five puffy welts that ached and stung and hurt so badly I was al-
most sick to my stomach. I couldn't imagine suffering that way three times a day. It 
made the chastity hood seem like a picnic. I heard someone tell Cindy to help me get 
cleaned up and she led me from the room.

She took me to a small bath room just off the reception area.

"Just lean against the wall for a moment while I go to the loo. We don't get a chance 
to visit here very often."

As I tried to compose myself I realized she had an English accent. I watched her 
step across the chain, so it ran up her front, then undo the zipper of her leather skirt. 
As she shimmied it down her hips, I saw her garter belt. She wasn't wearing any 
panties so I got a perfect view of her shaven pussy and the large gold rings that 
pierced each of her pubic lips. A small padlock held them tightly together and fas-
tened the end of the chain.

"Oh my God!" I said in surprise.

She looked up as she released her water.

"It's not as bad as it looks. The piercing is the worse part. You can't afford to trip or 
catch your chain accidentally, that's all."

She didn't say anything more as she wiped herself and put her skirt on again. Then 
she carefully stepped around the chain again and went to a medicine cabinet over 
the sink.

"Now it's your turn," she said. "What did they do to you?"

I gave her a quick version of how Joan had forced me into. By the time I was fin-
ished, Cindy had laid out some first aid supplies and a few things to repair my make-
up.

"Our story isn't that different. Like you, if we had known what we were getting into, 
we would have fled. The Judge is into S&M. We must stand all day in these damned 
shoes, one of which is locked on so we can't get any relief. We can't wear panties, 
are forbidden to touch ourselves and have to put up with the Judge's attentions any-
time he wants it. And three times a day, one of us has to take the crop to the other."

She had me bend over the sink while she dabbed away at my welts with some oint-
ment.

"Don't worry, you'll soon toughen up."

I knew she was trying to be reassuring but it wasn't very helpful.

"Why have they brought you here?" she asked as she started on my face.

I could have done my own make-up but if she was willing to do it for me, it was fine 
with me.

"Believe it or not, the Judge likes the sight of me in this chastity thing."

"That's not good news for us."

"Wait until you see the goodies we brought for you."

Her face was only inches from mine. I could smell the delicate perfume. She was 
beautiful and while I'm not normally attracted to women, I wanted her. I saw she was 
stealing glances at my eyes. We were both so hungry, so much in need of loving 
attention, even if it came from our own sex.

Her hand began to fumble with the waist of my skirt.

"Do you feel like taking a chance?" she whispered hoarsely.

I nodded.

"Do me and I'll do you."

It was all the word I needed. She took a step back while I sank to my knees. A wave 
of pain from my thighs reminded me not to sit back too far. I reached for the zipper at 
the back of her skirt and then slid the garment down her thighs. She stepped out of it 
and spread her legs. The rings and the chain that bound her were only inches from 
my nose.

Cindy leaned forward, putting her hands on the wall to take her weight.

"Easy on the rings," she grunted, "they can hurt a lot."

I put my hands on her hips and pulled her closer. Then I went exploring with my 
tongue, sending it between the top of the rings and her clit. I heard her moan with 
pleasure as soon as I made contact. She spread her legs wider and began to move 
her hips. I gripped her more tightly to stop the movement.

I licked and suckled her tortured little mound. I felt so sorry for her. The rings 
seemed so cruel, so uncomfortable. It wasn't hard to get an orgasm from her. She 
trembled, moaned and finally had to bite her finger to stop herself from screaming.

I stood up while she collected herself. She surveyed me carefully. No longer horny, 
she was obviously having second thoughts about her end of the bargain.

"Don't touch me down there," I said softly, "Please try it on my nipples."

Cindy smiled and pushed me back against the wall. I closed my eyes and felt her 
soft tongue on my naked breasts.

She licked me carefully, with kindness. I swooned with the pleasure of it. For the first 
time in many weeks, I was receiving love from someone else. I felt the arousal blos-
som in my loins and grow until it held my body in its power. I shuddered and gritted 
my teeth to keep quiet but it was lovely, supremely lovely. Cindy was an expert in 
licking. I felt, if she would continue long enough, I would receive the demanded or-
gasm only be being licked on my nipples. Just as I was catching my breath, a buzzer 
sounded.

"Damn!" Cindy exclaimed. "We've been too long. Just hope they don't inspect us."

She ran some water over her hands and then fled, leaving me naked and panting. 
And frustratingly unrelieved. She had me sooo close to the desired orgasm! My 
nerves were tingling, my nipples rock-hard, my pussy dripping and aching with de-
sire. But what should I do?

After calming down a little, I washed my hands, checked my make up and hoped like 
hell the flush in my cheeks would disappear quickly. On nervous and unsteady legs I 
went back to the others.

Cindy had resumed her place next to Samantha. I searched the Judge's face for any 
sign that he knew what we had been up to. He was smiling broadly. I didn't know 
whether to be suspicious or not.

"Why don't we take a little tour of the cells," he suggested.

I caught a hint of something in his voice and got scared. When he told Samantha to 
stay in the office to answer the phones, I knew we had been found out. She, not 
Cindy, was supposed to get "my" punishment. I looked at Joan. She had that, "I've 
got you", look in her eyes. She said she had forgotten something in the car and ex-
cused herself.

The Judge led us from the room.

"You know, girls, I've learned a lot in my time on the bench and the most important 
lesson of all is to know your limits."

We were walking down the stairs then, with Cindy trying to manage her chain.

"We all have to obey the rules, even if we don't like them. People who don't obey the 
rules must be dealt with. That's why we have laws and places of punishment."

He paused in front of a white door and took a key from his pocket. I glanced at 
Cindy. Her head was cast down, she was crying. I knew we were in trouble.

"Since you two don't seem to know your limits, this will be your place of punishment."

With a turn of the key the door flew open and I gazed inside. As soon as I saw the 
dungeon like torture equipment I began to tremble but when I saw the obstetrical 
table I felt sick to my stomach.

The Judge led us inside. Joan appeared with her box of toys and the silence in the 
air hung thick while Cindy and I waited for the next announcement.

"Joan, dear, just what do you suggest I do to contain Cindy's excessive interest in 
self-stimulation?"

Joan's face lit up, she had caught the drift of the game.

"Judge, the problem is obvious. She still associates her genitals with pleasure, in-
stead of service."

The Judge caressed the stirrups of the obstetrical table, almost reverently.

"And how do we change that?"

"By putting her in a chastity belt, feeding her a few chemicals and waiting for nature 
itself to teach her a lesson. It takes a while but it can be very entertaining and it is 
very effective, I assure you."

Cindy began to sob softly as they prepared her sexual prison. Joan brought out the 
chastity belt I already knew all too well. I had never worn it while being drugged, and 
I could only guess what it would feel like. Even the thought of it made me shudder.

I turned my attention to Cindy. She was standing still, silently crying while the Judge 
slowly undressed her as if she was a doll. She had a beautiful body and my desire 
swelled up in my loins again. The Judge had unlocked the chain from her pubic rings 
and now I studied them. I could see why she had wanted me to be careful. The cold 
metal piercing her most tender flesh looked cruel, especially after the Judge used 
the tiny lock to secure the two rings together.

"Get onto the table, dear," the Judge whispered to his captive, "it's time to fasten you 
down."

Slowly, her head bent with fear and shame, Cindy went to the table. She carefully 
climbed onto it with Joan's guidance. After her legs came to rest, spread wide, in the 
cold metal stirrups, her arms dropped to her sides. Joan and the Judge each fas-
tened them to waiting leather cuffs at each side of the table. A few minutes later they 
had bound her legs to the metal apparatus with small leather straps. Cindy was 
ready for her belt.

She looked over at me with sad eyes. I wanted to help her but there was nothing I 
could do. Poor Cindy was going to be very uncomfortable very soon and there wasn't 
going to be a thing she could do about it until someone decided she had suffered 
enough.

Cindy gasped softly when Joan pressed a humming vibrator against her bald pussy. 
I could hear the poor girl gasp as she was forced into sexual arousal. Her bared 
breasts rose and fell quickly. But Joan didn't let her victim orgasm. Cindy wailed and 
bucked with her hips, as the vibrator got removed short before this could happen, 
and was replaced by a pencil-thin device shoved into her vagina. From the frustra-
tion, dread and shame I could see in her eyes this object seemed to be a kind of low-
intensity stimulator.

Again Cindy started to moan and buck while she was locked into the chastity belt. 
Joan settled the waist band snugly around Cindy's hips and then began to tighten 
the crotch section until it was tight enough to prevent any contact with Cindy's pussy. 
A small padlock was used to secure it and Joan stepped back, obviously pleased 
with herself.

The Judge and Joan quickly released the straps and helped their victim to stand. 
Much as she tried to keep still, Cindy could not avoid some movement of her hips 
while she waited in silent frustration. Her face was contorted, she was so absorbed 
with the effects of the chastity belt and the new sensations from the strange stimu-
lator that she didn't realize at first the leather straps at the ends of the two short 
chains dangling from the chastity belt.

Then the Judge ordered her to put on her clothes again. First came the garter belt. It 
still fit around her waist but only just. She prepared a stocking and then bent over to 
put her polished toes into it. In the same moment, a loud gasp came out of her 
mouth. She shuddered and moaned but managed to start the stocking anyway. 
Slowly and carefully she worked it up her pale, smooth legs, checking the straight-
ness of her seam often even though this action was uncomfortable for her. I truly felt 
sorry for her.

The Judge, Joan and I stood in a circle around poor Cindy while she struggled 
against her restraints and the storm of sensations in her vagina, to accomplish the 
simple act of getting dressed. Her face was flushed red, either from shame, arousal, 
or both. Being held for weeks now without sexual relief, still horny as hell after 
Cindy's interrupted play with my breasts, I nearly could not stand watching this 
beauty in her awfully sexy looking outfit.

After the second stocking was suspended from its straining garters, the Judge in-
sisted that she put on her shoes. She stepped into them. The effort strained the 
crotch strap, so that she gasped again, but she meekly kept still while the metal har-
ness was fastened onto her right ankle.

Next, she stepped into her short skirt and had a little trouble fastening it. Finally she 
added the blouse and stood there, trembling, waiting for further orders.

Joan made her lean against the wall. It was the ideal position for applying the re-
straint straps that Cindy had not yet seen. As soon as her wrists were locked in, 
Cindy could no more rise her hands up to her naked breasts. Now she knew what 
that was for.

"Oh, God!" she muttered and sobbed, while the judge re-fastened the leading chain, 
now to the front lock of the chastity belt. The Judge paced around her, inspecting her 
misery.

"Don't worry, Judge," Joan said. " She is really secure from forbidden pleasures now. 
Take a few steps dear."

Cindy wobbled a few paces until her face suddenly screwed up with despair. The 
intruder was getting to her. She turned to the Judge.

"Please, Master, take it off. I've learned my lesson. Please don't do this to me."

By way of response, the Judge picked up a riding crop, lifted the back of Cindy's skirt 
and laid two cuts on her thighs, just above the tops of her stockings.

"You know better than to beg!" he muttered.

Joan piped up.

"Now that Cindy is learning her lesson it's time Sandra was brought to task." She 
turned to me, "Get undressed and prepare the punishment dildo for yourself. Your 
new friend is about to apply your punishment."

I stripped slowly. Even though Cindy had already seen my shaved pussy with it's 
bizarre jewel, I was still embarrassed about the Judge's attention. I could see a big 
bulge in his crotch and remembered his episode with me in the living room.

I was terrified. If they were prepared to make Cindy's life hell so easily, what could 
my imaginative Mistress have planned for me? I saw the Judge laying out a pair of 
the impossibly high spiked shoes and a leather mini skirt. There was also one of the 
metal shoe harnesses.

Joan was preparing something on the other side of the table, out of my sight. I knew 
it came from her little box of toys and therefore I wasn't going to like it. I glanced at 
Cindy, who still seemed to be holding her own against the pressure building up in-
side her.

Finally there was nothing to do but lean against the table with my feet spread. I tried 
to guess what Joan had in store for me but my mind went blank.

Joan grabbed Cindy and made her stand beside me. I was told not to turn around.

"She's the source of your misery, Cindy. Now you can have some revenge. Choose 
one!"

I heard Cindy sob.

"I can't," she said softly.

The Judge's crop sang through the air again, meeting Cindy's thighs in a sickening 
smack of pain. There was a moment of silence while Cindy did what she had to do.

The curiosity was killing me but I knew better than to turn around. Suddenly I felt a 
plastic belt being fastened around my waist. I looked down and my heart stopped 
cold.

It was a chastity belt. But unlike the virtue protecting models, this belt featured a 
long, thin, bristle-covered pin to penetrate me poor girl in the front and an attached 
dildo in the rear. Instinctively I tried to pull away but the Judge had wisely gripped 
my wrists from his vantage point on the other side of the table.

"Put it on her!" Joan growled.

I caught the scent of Cindy's perfume as she bent between my legs. Now it was my 
turn to breathe sharply in fear of what was about to be done to me. I glanced down 
again at the belt. I could imagine what the bristles would do to my poor, naked, itch-
ing pussy. The rear plug was big and I was sure it wouldn't go in without damage but 
I prayed it would anyway.

The Judge decided to handcuff me. As soon as the cold hard cuffs had my hands 
fastened behind my back, they bent me over the table. There was no way that I could 
now resist the dildo's insertion into my rear passage.

Cindy thoughtfully used a little saliva on the head of the plug just before she brought 
the rounded tip into position. Then, almost gently, she began to force it against my 
unexperienced butt hole. I felt myself distending as my poor behind tried to accom-
modate the intruder. Joan's use of a butt plug just a few days earlier had loosened 
me up a little. Still, it began to hurt and shortly after that I began to cry despite my 
best efforts not to do so. Cindy applied a steady pressure. It was very painful and I 
cried and cursed them all until the Judge decided he had enough and put a ball gag 
into my mouth. Deeper and deeper it went in until I was sure I just couldn't take any 
more. I was sobbing steadily and fighting the Judge's grip by the time she stopped 
and turned her attention to the device intended for my love box.

It was a pencil-sized rubber stick with many circumferal grooves and a cilia-covered 
base plate attached. Carefully Cindy shoved it into my still dripping-wet pussy. At 
first, I didn't feel much, because I was concentrating on my aching butt. But as the 
stick slid in between my little love lips, lips that had not been penetrated in so many 
weeks, lips that were throbbing with unfulfilled, frustrated desire, I could not hold 
myself back from moaning. I felt my love lips close around every single groove, while 
the stick entered my love hole. The butt plug was temporarily forgotten. With eyes 
closed, I enjoyed the sensation. But in the moment Cindy allowed the stick to touch 
my beastly clit hood, I yelled with pain into the gag. Despite my handcuffs, the judge 
had to hold me with all his strength.

Finally it was over. I lay across the table panting into the gag while Joan tightened 
the retention strap and then locked it. Now the stick's base plate was being pressed 
against my naked pussy, which got massaged by the cilia with devilish skill. They 
took the handcuffs off then and took out the gag. I was told to put back my skirt and 
be quick about it.

Every movement was agony. Each little step moved the intruders painfully and 
rubbed my pubic mound into a frenzy. I was dizzy from the pain and swore revenge 
against Joan and the Judge.

Like Cindy, I had a lot of trouble with my garter belt and stockings. When it came 
time for the shoes, I found a new source of pain. The four inch heels tightened my 
ass cheeks and made the intruders all the much worse. The Judge took great pleas-
ure in fastening the shoe lock into place.

Cindy and I painfully teetered our way upstairs to the office. Samantha was sum-
moned. The Judge was horny, Joan had some ideas even though Cindy and I were 
out of commission as far as fucking went.

An hour later, Cindy and I still hadn't said much to each other. We were too occupied 
with the unwelcome sensations at our loins. I tried to do some filing while she typed 
correspondence at the standing work station. It was hard to manage doing anything 
useful with the whirls in my brain. Neither one of us relished the thought of sitting 
down. Despite our own moaning, from time to time we could hear Samantha cry out 
or the smack of a leather instrument meeting her flesh.

I could tell that Cindy had not gained any relief from the thing in her pussy. Her face 
was contorted with the effort to achieve it and sometimes she would lean against the 
wall, press her legs together and grunt as she tried to stimulate her enough for get-
ting over. She walked with an enforced hip sway and whenever she caught me 
watching her she blushed and looked away.

"We may as well talk about it?" I groaned finally. "There's nothing else to do."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what?" I started to cross over to her but walking was painful. I decided to stay 
where I was.

"I got you into trouble. Then they made me choose the dildos for you to wear. I tried 
to find the smallest. Truly I did!"

I could see that she was close to tears and finished emotionally.

"You did what you had to do. Any chance of getting out of here?"

She shook her head.

"You know how it works. They would have the police on us in a minute."

She paused to listen from the sounds below.

"We won't be seeing them for a while. I can hear the flash guns. The boss is doing a 
photo session."

That caught my attention.

"A photo session? You mean he takes pictures of what he does to you girls?"

Cindy nodded.

"Yes, and there's no doubt Joan will be a part of this one. One of his customers 
wanted a female master series."

Ideas were swimming around my brain. Revenge might be closer at hand than ex-
pected.

"How does he get them developed?"

Cindy told me that there was a dark room downstairs and that she did most of the 
developing work. The Judge's face often appeared in the photos but was masked 
with an airbrush before the prints were sold. Now I needed only one more piece to 
make it all work.

"Does the Judge keep a gun?"

"Yes, but..," she looked at me as it fell together for her. "You can't be serious."

"Just show me the gun and I'll let you know what serious means."

A few minutes later we had worked out a plan. I had hoped to find a spare set of 
keys in the Judge's desk but no such luck. The locks that retained our chastity belts 
had been supplied by Joan. Being able to take off our spikes would have helped but 
it wasn't critical. The hardest part was going to be getting downstairs without gasping 
so loudly that they would hear us.

I could tell that Cindy was very dizzy from her constant efforts to get rid of her hor-
nyness. Still, she summoned up enough strength that I decided to take her along.

We crept down the stairs as slowly and quietly as we could. It was very painful for 
each of us but it only made me more determined to get revenge. I held the gun, a 
loaded .38 police special.

We got to the door of the punishment room and I looked in for a second. Samantha 
hung from manacles on one wall while the Judge and Joan, both dressed in domina-
tion gear, took turns using a whip on her. By the condition of Samantha's back, we 
had arrived none too soon.

I stood in the door way until they noticed me.

"Enough games for now, Judge. Reality is here."

My voice stopped Joan in mid-swing. The whip fell limp in her hand and her face 
drained of color. The Judge appraised the situation carefully and began to slowly 
move toward a table.

"Hold it! Just give me one more excuse like that and you're history. Stop this now 
and we'll be easy on you." The Judge said.

"This isn't your court. You don't have a thing to say. Just turn around and put your 
hands on your head, both of you!"

It didn't take long for Cindy to get Samantha out of the wall manacles and replace 
her with Joan, facing front this time. Another set of manacles took care of the Judge. 
As soon as they were locked up, Cindy and I found the keys.

"Me first!" she screamed while stripping off her skirt.

I thought of my own condition for a moment and then agreed.

"Now, listen to me!" I said while fumbling with the lock on her chastity belt. "Don't 
waste time fiddling with your crotch. There are tough guys here to watch."

She blushed at my comment but nodded her head. As soon as the belt fell away she 
removed the pin from her vaginawith a loud sigh. Meanwhile I began to fumble furi-
ously with the lock at the back of my chastity belt. I was getting desperate when 
Samantha came to me and in a weak voice offered to help.

As soon as the lock was off, I began to pull at the plugs. I discovered that getting 
them out was as painful as getting them in.

"You'll pay for this!" I screamed through clenched teeth at Joan and the Judge, 
meaning every word of it.

The vaginal plug came out first and then the anal intruder. As soon as they went out, 
I instinctively tried to finger my poor cunt a little, but was rewarded by renewed pain 
from the clit hood. Once more, I wailed in frustration.

After Samantha had regained enough strength, she dressed and began exacting 
some retribution on the captive Joan and Judge. Her item of choice was the alligator 
clamp and she was just applying them liberally to both of them, especially to the 
Judge's cock and Joan's pubic lips.

"You'll never get away with this!" the Judge grunted though his pain. "I'll have the 
police on you in an hour."

"I don't think so," I said as I removed the film from the camera. "Cindy is going to de-
velop these and we are going to keep a set of negatives. If we have any trouble from 
you, a set of prints will land on some very powerful desks."

I tossed the film to Cindy who was smiling broadly. I noticed she had put on her 
blouse but had left her skirt off, keeping her pussy exposed, which had already had 
the two small rings with the lock. She searched for the appropiate key and removed 
the lock.

"The first time for nearly two years I am without any lock or chain down there!" she 
sighed happily.

"Want the rings off too?"

She shook her head.

"No, not now. I'm used to them."

I noticed Samantha putting on her stockings. Then she stepped into the high spike 
pumps.

"You don't have to wear them anymore." I told her and she smiled.

"But I like to," she said simply. "I've gotten used to them. Anything lower hurts my 
legs."

The girls went for some shirts. Although they could not find, of course, any bra in the 
house, they came back with breasts covered by two of the judge's shirts. It looked a 
little bit strange, but their body was not nude any more, and that had been the im-
portant. A few minutes with my make-up case and we felt like human females again.

There was so much to do. Cindy and Samantha were going to find an apartment. A 
quick raid on the Judge's safe provided the necessary funds. I asked Cindy to type 
up absolute discharge papers for all three of us. The Judge was then encouraged to 
sign them by our waving a monster dildo under his nose and suggesting where it 
soon might find a home.

While we all wanted out of there and badly, there were still a few problems. I dis-
cussed them with the girls in private and they agreed. Cindy went to develop the film 
while Samantha and I took care of our former masters.

Joan's eyes grew wide when she saw the vibrator strap in my hand.

"You're not... You can't!" she moaned,

I just nodded.

Spread out as they were on the wall, Samantha and I had no trouble in pressing the 
little devil up her cunt. We decided to leave the alligator clips on. Both captives were 
pleading with us as we made our final preparations to leave.

"Please, have some mercy. You can't leave us like this." The Judge wined.

"You're getting no worse that you would have handed out. We'll call the police in 
about half a day and you can tell them whatever you like. But, the discharges stand 
or you get to be instantly famous."

I could see the fear in their eyes. We had won. As we walked down the hall toward 
the door I noticed two things. We were each still wearing the high spike pumps and I 
could still feel the effct of the clit hood. I wasn't surprised when I felt myself still horny 
and wet.

Epilogue
********************

It's been six months since Cindy, Samantha and I escaped from the Judge and Joan. 
I'm still with this terrible clit hood.

I stayed in Joan's house long enough to reopen my apart-maned. I am not sure why, 
but I appropriated some of the "toys" as I moved back to my place. But even after 
leaving Joan, I still had that fatal hood over my clit. Oh boy, nobody can imagine how 
horny I was! It was hell! I was a walking sex-pot, always having a burning desire 
between my legs. But Joan's invention worked all too good. I could masturbate as 
desperately as I wanted to, the feelings in my pussy were too weak to come over the 
edge. And men were out of discussion. I wouldn't take the risk of accidentally having 
to take up a cock or a finger in my pussy while this painful guard resided in it. But not 
for long, I was starving for a fuck, dreaming all the time about a real man taking me 
in my oh so hungry pussy. Of course, I immediately tried to remove the clit hood that 
so fatally prevented me from sex. But Joan refused to tell me how it would work, and 
the doctor I finally consulted did not found it out. He was doing one painful test after 
the other, but the hood stayed where it was.

Everytime a new unbearable itch of desire pained my hungry pussy, I cursed Joan. 
And this was many times a day. Even I were no more her prisoner, she still was 
punishing me. My victory had only been a half one. Facing a life-time celibacy, I 
considered in earnest a voluntary return to Joan. Better doing the full time of my 
devilish sentence in her paws and being free afterwards than to suffer the same fate 
for the rest of my life, I thought.

Cindy and Samantha came to dinner a couple of times and from the beginning I was 
suspicious about Cindy. I did notice that the formerly humble Samantha had taken 
on a new, dominant role. She told Cindy what to do and when to do it. I finally got my 
answers when Cindy turned up alone one night.

She had a small overnight case with her and asked in tiny voice, "My mistress is 
away. Will you take care of me?"

I was only mildly surprised that she still wore seamed stockings and the high pumps 
that the Judge had put on her. To see her pubic rings locked together again, how-
ever, made me question her once she was comfortable and sipping tea in the living 
room.

"I guess it started when I wanted to go back to hooking. Samantha got mad and said 
we had a chance to make it on our own and we should take it. I used to make all the 
decisions and so it was strange to see her put her foot down. We got into a fight and 
somehow she got a pair of handcuffs on me. Well, she decided to cure me with the 
lock. You can't be successful in our business with a locked cunt."

Cindy went on to tell me that she had become Samantha's slave in a gentle sense. 
Samantha insisted that Cindy wear nothing at home and refrain from touching her-
self. I was intrigued and horny.

"So, you have to obey every order?"

She nodded and I took her to the bedroom. I told her to finish the task she had be-
gun in the judge's house. It was heaven! Cindy's talented and enduring tongue on 
my nipples and my pussy lips finally brought me to the long-missed orgasm. I 
shrieked loudly and tossed myself in my bed for minutes. After recovering I cried 
from relief. I was so happy to have extinguished the fire that had burned in my loins 
so demandingly. It had been a so long time since I had received caring attention and 
it was quite overwhelming, to say the least. I made her spend one night in the bond-
age rig that Joan had made me endure every night and afterward Cindy agreed that 
she couldn't take much of that. She did show a lot more respect to me, however.

We were both sorry to see the weekend come to an end but all of us have had a lot 
of fun since. Of course, Samantha was part of the good times. I was so glad to feel 
sexual satisfaction again and was happy not having to give in to Joan. But, finally, 
Joan had anyway achieved what I supect her to have had always in mind: I had been 
transformed from a straight girl into a lesbian. A lesbian, which is dreaming all nights 
of men...

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