When Bad Girls Need More

by Tilton, Emily

  But a chuckle from the two officers in the back with her, as the van sped out of the garage toward the courthouse only a block away, was all the response she got.

  “Answer me, assholes,” Jeannie said, apparently convinced that the corrections officers couldn’t visit any retribution on her for the moment.

  Jake spoke over the team leader’s comm link, to confirm what he felt sure Gardella’s instinct had already suggested. “You can go ahead and give her the strap, Officer.”

  The team leader tapped the spot on his jawbone where he had the communication device implanted, to signify acknowledgment. Then he spoke.

  “Simmons,” said Gardella, “put her over the seat for me. I’m going to whip her.”

  “What?” Jeannie demanded. “You can’t, you… you sick fuck.”

  But Simmons had stood up in the van, which had already turned down the ramp into the garage of the courthouse, and grabbed Jeannie. He turned her around roughly and made her kneel in front of the bench seat, her bound hands in front of her almost as if she were praying.

  “Hold her down,” Gardella said grimly.

  Simmons, just as well built as the team leader, put one hand on Jeannie’s neck and the other on her back. The girl had gone into full resistance mode now, her fight-or-flight reflex close to the surface, so she struggled as soon as she felt the guard’s touch, but of course in vain.

  The struggle did, however, cause the arousal between her thighs to soar all the way from 6 to 9. In turn, her natural distress at once again discovering her need for masculine domination made her skin galvanics spike anew, and—more obviously—made her writhe against the strong, restraining hands.

  “Little sluts with foul mouths get sent where they belong, these days,” Gardella said very calmly. “But along the way men like me get to make them pay for their misbehavior. Next time you think about shooting off that potty mouth, I hope you remember this.”

  He raised the prison strap. Simmons had allowed Jeannie to turn her head to see the team leader standing over her in the van as she knelt on its carpeted floor. The sight sent her arousal to 10, and it made her struggle even harder as her heart rate also skyrocketed in fear.

  The fear was justified: Gardella brought the strap down hard and fast, three times, landing the lashes in a row from the top of Jeannie’s sweet little bottom to the curve of her sit-spot. Jeannie screamed, full-throated, the pitiful sound very loud in the back of the van. Simmons held her in place as her body shook with the pain of the terrible lesson, while the red welts from the strap began to rise across her backside with a pretty symmetry that hardened Jake’s cock still further.

  “Alright,” Gardella said. “Let’s get her into the elevator.”

  Chapter 7

  The sight of the courtroom made Jeannie wish she could faint. She wouldn’t even care—she thought in the moment the elevator opened—where they carried her, once she had lost consciousness. At least she wouldn’t have to see the lawyers, one a thirtyish man and the other a fortyish woman, in their business suits at the tables, the judge on her bench, the clerk at his desk, the bailiff in his uniform, and the two other naked girls standing in the little holding area at the side, behind the bars that divided them from the rest of the room.

  The lawyers and the judge had their attention on what Jeannie assumed must be legal matters. Each looked at the papers in front of him or her. The bailiff, an older man, beckoned to the guards who had brought her in and pointed to the pen that apparently held the accused.

  “Looks like they just finished up a case,” the one named Simmons said.

  “Yeah,” agreed the leader, the one who had whipped Jeannie so cruelly in the van. “Jeannie, honey, I’m going to put you in the dock now. Don’t worry, we’ll see each other soon. We’re going to get much better acquainted when you get to the place where bad girls go.”

  She felt for the first few seconds like she might actually swoon, as he marched her across the polished wood floor to the cage where the other girls apparently awaited a similar fate to Jeannie’s—whatever that might be… wherever the place where bad girls go might be found. She saw that they, too, had their hands cuffed in front of them.

  The guard opened the door and thrust her inside. Then he closed the door with a metallic bang. One of the other girls, a tall brunette with big breasts and curvy hips glared at Jeannie as if the newcomer had intentionally looked at her naked body, her big brown nipples, and the patch of black hair that covered her pussy. Jeannie’s face got hot, and she looked away, only to see that the third naked girl in the cage, a redhead with breasts even smaller than Jeannie’s had tears streaming down her face that made Jeannie long for unconsciousness even more urgently.

  “You got whipped in the van,” the dark-haired girl said, her voice sounding—to Jeannie’s surprise—almost admiring. Jeannie turned back to see the other girl looking frankly at the welts the guard had made with the horrible strap. The brunette turned a little so Jeannie could see that she had six very similar marks across her own backside. Jeannie’s eyes went wide; she didn’t think she could have borne six without passing out. “Hurts, right?” the dark-haired girl asked.

  The red-haired girl let out a sob. Jeannie couldn’t help sneaking a peek at her pert, pallid bottom-cheeks, which bore no sign of recent discipline. Like Jeannie she had no hair between her legs. Was she a cheerleader, too, Jeannie wondered?

  “Don’t mind her,” the tall girl said. “I don’t think they even had to spank her to get her to blubber like that.”

  “Shut up, bitch,” the redhead shouted. “My headmistress whipped my pussy for ten minutes, and I didn’t even cry! I’m just fucking scared is all. You should be too.”

  A bang came from the direction of the judge. Jeannie turned to see that the woman in the black robe had brought her gavel down.

  “Bailiff,” the judge said, “we’ll have order.” She spoke to the girls in the cage. “Young ladies, I’m not going to waste everybody’s time with trying to figure out which of you is at fault for any additional disturbance. If I have to ask for order again the bailiff will take you out one by one and cane you until you can’t walk without discomfort for a week, and then he’ll gag you so that you can’t disturb the court any further. Be silent.”

  Jeannie looked at the red-haired girl again, her eyes widening. She couldn’t imagine what sort of school the girl must have come from, where you got whipped between the legs for misbehavior. Her tummy flipped over even thinking about what that would feel like, when the paddle and the strap had hurt so much that they had almost curbed her defiance.

  At the same time, the other girl’s revelation of where she had received her terrible lesson stirred the part of Jeannie that she really would rather not think about. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to look out at the judge.

  “Matter 37 dash 893,” the clerk said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Hannah Martin.”

  “Which one of you is Miss Martin?” the judge asked, looking over at the cage.

  “Me,” the redhead answered, her voice firmer than Jeannie had expected.

  “Address the court properly,” the judge said in a voice that somehow sounded both tired and severe, like a mother who has had to paddle her daughters so often her arm is tired, but won’t let that stop her from administering the necessary discipline. “This is the moment for you to start to turn your life around, Miss Martin. It begins with the proper respect for authority.”

  “Me, your honor,” Hannah said, glancing at the bailiff who stood, Jeannie now noticed, next to a frightening-looking rattan cane that hung on the courtroom wall.

  “What’s the charge?” the judge asked.

  “Illicit intercourse,” the clerk answered.

  “Your honor,” said the woman lawyer from her table, the one farthest from the cage. “Miss Martin was found with a boy from a nearby school.”

  “In flagrante?” the judge asked, glancing over at the girls in the cage.

  “No, your honor,�
� said the male lawyer.

  “Your honor,” the woman lawyer said. “Miss Martin’s panties were off, and a subsequent examination by her headmistress showed that her hymen had been ruptured. The headmistress administered discipline, but the girl remains defiant.”

  Jeannie’s lips parted, and her breathing quickened. She didn’t blame Hannah for the tears.

  “Your honor,” the man said, “CCP 56 sub e states clearly that unless penetration is observed…”

  “Spare me,” the judge said. “I have discretion. Miss Martin?”

  “Yes, your honor,” Hannah said. She had her tears under control now. Jeannie couldn’t help admiring the way the other girl maintained her composure, though her pale cheeks had the dark pink stain of an understandable blush upon them.

  “Did you have coitus with the young man with whom you were found?”

  Hannah’s brow creased deeply, and her lips pursed themselves as if she—as Jeannie thought she herself might, and probably would in a few minutes—couldn’t quite figure out what response would show the best combination of resentment, defiance, and contempt for the whole proceeding. At the same time, the color of her face and the unfallen tears in the girl’s eyes showed that Hannah, who seemed to Jeannie to possess a good deal of intelligence, remained justifiably scared of what unknown penalties the judge could impose.

  Where are they sending us? The question rang even louder in Jeannie’s mind. Where do bad girls go?

  “Yes, your honor,” Hannah finally said, making a clear effort to keep her voice firm and even.

  “Did you understand that having sex without permission was illegal for you, as a student in the corporate educational system?” The judge spoke seriously but not unkindly.

  “They… my teachers and my headmistress… they never said why, your honor,” Hannah protested, her voice breaking a little.

  Now the judge frowned. “I imagine they did, Miss Martin, but because you didn’t like the reason you chose to pretend it hadn’t been given. Those aren’t the same at all.”

  The judge looked down at the papers on the desk in front of her. “Rosewood Academy,” she said, almost to herself, before looking up at Hannah again. “That’s a very good school, Miss Martin. Their disciplinary tradition is renowned. Please describe for the court in your own words what happened when you were found with your panties off—including just before, and how your underwear came to be somewhere other than where it belongs.”

  “Your honor,” the defense attorney asked, “is this necessary? My client has already allocuted to the intercourse.”

  “It’s up to Miss Martin,” the judge answered, “but it may well affect my sentence.”

  Jeannie’s face got very hot as she watched the color come and go in Hannah’s cheeks.

  “I…” the redhead began. “Pete… he’s… I guess he was kind of my boyfriend? I met him in the woods between our schools. He had a blanket. We started kissing. Then we lay down on the blanket?”

  “Did you lie down willingly, Miss Martin?” the judge asked sharply.

  Hannah’s response had a little fire in it. “Yes, of course, your honor, and…”

  The judge inclined her head toward the naked girls in the cage. “Did you remove your own underwear, Miss Martin?”

  Hannah swallowed hard, and a single tear trickled down her cheek, but Jeannie couldn’t help thinking the girl magnificent.

  “Yes, your honor. Then… he got on top of me… I mean, I wanted him to. And he… you know. He started. It hurt, but then…”

  “You may leave out that part, Miss Martin,” the judge said.

  “Okay,” Hannah said. She bit her lip. “I heard a noise, and I made him get off me, and then a teacher from my school came into the clearing and found us. She picked up my panties, and she took me to the headmistress’ office.”

  “And what happened there?” the judge asked, her eyebrows rising a little.

  “I got punished,” Hannah replied flatly.

  “Yes, Miss Martin, but please describe how you were punished. Your attitude toward authority is part of what’s in question here as I decide what will happen next to you in consequence of your criminal action.”

  Jeannie couldn’t look at the red-haired girl, now because she had noticed how stiff Hannah’s nipples had gotten, and seen how her hands curled into little balls and then relaxed. It looked to Jeannie like Hannah might have a similar, horribly confusing bodily response to the one Jeannie herself had had to Hannah’s lewd story—not to mention to the terrible ordeal she had gone through in the classroom and in the van. At Hannah’s words, Jeannie’s own hands had clenched into fists and, worse, her own nipples had gotten erect and tingly.

  The burning stripes of the strap across Jeannie’s bottom seemed to reach unwelcome tendrils of warmth into her pussy. She wanted to plug her ears against the story Hannah told, because with each shameful word she could feel herself getting wetter between her thighs.

  “Mrs. Thorn—she’s the headmistress—she… she made me take off all my clothes, and then…”

  Hannah’s face had gone practically crimson.

  “Yes, Miss Martin?” asked the judge.

  “She put my panties on my head, over my face… like… like a mask, and she rubbed the… the middle part against my nose.”

  Jeannie couldn’t help it: she let out a tiny whimper. She raised her eyes for a moment, just in time to see Hannah glance over in response to the noise.

  The judge nodded. “She confronted you with your naughtiness. Go on, please.”

  Hannah turned back, her fingers now continually curling and relaxing. Jeannie stole a glimpse of the third girl in the cage, who also frowned, but wasn’t blushing, and seemed confused rather than embarrassed.

  “Mrs. Thorn made me get onto her desk, and she tied me down with straps, on my back…”

  “Your knees up and open?” the judge asked.

  Hannah swallowed hard, and nodded.

  “She… examined me. Then she took a strap out of her desk.”

  “She whipped your vulva?”

  Hannah closed her eyes tightly, and nodded again.

  “Your honor,” said the prosecutor. “Mrs. Thorn punished Miss Martin in hope of correcting her immodesty, but the girl refused to show respect.”

  Hannah’s face had crumpled completely, but now she opened her eyes and glared at the female attorney.

  “She touched me… she said she would make it feel better, and she…”

  Jeannie’s heart beat wildly as she understood, and she saw how conflicted Hannah had gotten remembering it—and thought about how conflicted the girl must have been in the headmistress’ office.

  “Miss Martin,” the judge said, “if I understand correctly, Mrs. Thorn decided to use her authority under the corporate laws to stimulate you after your whipping.”

  “She… she kissed me,” Hannah whispered. “Down there.”

  Chapter 8

  As Jake had expected, Jeannie’s responses to Hannah Martin’s testimony had run the gamut from shocked and rebellious to compassionate and very needy. The news that Mrs. Thorn’s discipline of the redheaded girl had included cunnilingus now brought Jeannie’s arousal up to 9, and made the blonde girl’s pussy clench in sympathy.

  Hannah’s file, shared with Jake a few minutes before by Julie Porttera, the girl’s case officer, indicated that the girl belonged in Advanced Guidance alongside Jeannie. The headmistress’ skillful awakening of her pupil’s submissive sexuality with a lewd, probing tongue had brought on multiple orgasms in Hannah Martin’s well-punished pussy.

  Jake’s job as Jeannie Rendoski’s case officer lay in making sure he used Jeannie’s response to the story as effectively as possible in his own bad girl’s training. Naked court, as everyone called the Special Judicial Proceeding for Young, Nonviolent, Female Sexual Offenders created under Title Fourteen of the Corporate Acts, presented not just a jurisprudential basis for Selecta’s bad-girl project but also an important opportunity for
the bad girls’ trainers.

  The Honorable Vanessa Oh, Special Magistrate for Young Females’ Nonviolent Sexual Offenses, looked down at the papers on her desk, and then back over at Hannah, frowning in concentration as if she meant to look inside the girl’s heart and mind. Then the judge spoke to the prosecuting attorney, the very experienced Martha Hersey.

  “What does the state think of the results of the cunnilingus?” the judge asked in a clinical voice. “Satisfactory?”

  On the mic in the accused girls’ cage, Jake picked up a whimper from Hannah. In the upper right of the window where he could see a red-faced Jeannie, her arousal jumped to 10 for a moment, then settled back down to 9. Jake watched her shift her weight from foot to foot. If the circumstances in the courtroom continued at this rate, Jeannie’s evident fear would be realized: her bare pussy’s need might well drip onto her thigh.

  “Your honor,” interrupted defense attorney Jan Swenska. “I reiterate my objection. The entire episode is inadmissible, even if my client admits the coitus, because—”

  Judge Oh interrupted him back in an exasperated voice. “Mr. Swenska, I’ve warned you. I addressed your sister counsel. I’ve already ruled on the issue of observation. The absence of Miss Martin’s underwear gave the headmistress the authority necessary to discipline her for illicit intercourse.” The judge turned back to the prosecutor’s table. “Ms. Hersey?”

  “The state is more than satisfied. We recommend Advanced Guidance.”

  “What’s—” Hannah began, but the judge silenced her.

  “You’ll find out very soon, Miss Martin.” She picked up her gavel. “Advanced Guidance, so ordered,” she said, and brought the gavel down. “Take her to my chambers, please, bailiff.”

  Jeannie watched with parted lips, her breathing very fast and her arousal settling to 7, as the bailiff opened the cage and led the trembling Hannah out. Jake could see, he thought, in his own bad girl’s face how the very different behavioral profile of Hannah Martin had intrigued and worried her.