When Bad Girls Need More

by Tilton, Emily

  As an Alpha Minus, Hannah presented with less defiance and more apparent submission; her essential naughtiness lay more deeply hidden. Hannah had superior intelligence, which constituted the reason she had won a spot at Rosewood, but it made her very sly. Without Advanced Guidance, she might well have become a master criminal—with it, she could become the sort of sexual asset Selecta sent into the most delicate situations.

  Jeannie bit her lip as she watched Hannah give one last look around the room, her eyes panicky. Then the AG guard waiting in the doorway to Judge Oh’s chambers took Hannah by the elbow and led her out of sight, into the judicial sanctum where Jeannie would, Jake knew, see her new friend again soon.

  Neither Jeannie nor Hannah knew it, to be sure, and their affections were much more difficult to manipulate than their sexual arousal, but they would soon become close ‘friends’ in the sense of the word Jake and his AG colleagues usually employed. Judge Oh liked to unwind with the bad girls she sent to AG, before sending them further into the system.

  “Matter 37 dash 894. Gwen Salieri,” said the clerk.

  Jeannie looked over at the tall brunette with the six welts across her backside. Gwen spared the other girl a contemptuous look before turning toward the clerk.

  “That’s me,” she said. “I fucked Stewie behind the gym.”

  “Miss Salieri,” the judge said, speaking a good deal more rapidly and with much less interest than she had only a few moments before when dealing with Hannah, “please be quiet, or I will have you gagged. What’s the charge?”

  “Public coitus,” the clerk replied.

  “Ms. Hersey?” asked the judge.

  The prosecutor, like the judge, seemed to have adopted a manner quite different from the one she had employed only a few minutes before.

  “Your honor, Miss Salieri was found, as she just told us, having sex with her boyfriend in an athletic field last night. She received a paddling from her principal, and then resisted transfer here, which resulted in disciplinary action by the transferring officer.”

  “You’re fucking right,” Jake caught Gwen muttering under her breath. Jeannie heard it too, and turned to Gwen, clearly confused by how subdued the dark-haired girl had become.

  But Gwen clearly perceived how differently the judge and the prosecuting attorney were treating her case. Jeannie had sensed it too, and she frowned in confusion.

  One vital fact known to Jake, as well as the judge and the attorneys, but of course not to the naked girls in the cage, accounted for the difference. Gwen Salieri didn’t have the submissive sexual orientation that would make her valuable to Selecta. Unlike Jeannie’s and Hannah Martin’s, the perineal sensor placed between Gwen’s thighs had been deactivated a few weeks after its installation, and her file had received the designation to which the defense attorney now called the court’s attention.

  “Implicit permission, your honor?” he said. He spoke, Jake knew, only for the record. Both Judge Oh and Prosecutor Hersey knew that Gwen Salieri had the state’s blessing to fuck whom she wanted, as long as she didn’t do it in a way disruptive to the lives of others.

  “Miss Salieri, do you intend to have coitus in a public place again?” the judge asked.

  Gwen frowned. “Not if I’m gonna get paddled,” she said. Then, because she could clearly sense that if she jumped through the obvious hoops she would—for reasons she almost certainly couldn’t grasp—escape the fate of Hannah Martin, she added, “Your honor.”

  “Well,” the judge said dryly. “I think I can promise you you’ll be paddled as often as necessary to make the point clear to you. Misdemeanor indecency. Sentence as imposed by Miss Salieri’s principal.” The gavel came down again.

  Jeannie and Gwen turned to one another in the cage. Jake’s heart went out to both of them as they seemed to realize the fundamental divide, known to the court because known to the Selecta Corporation, between them.

  “You’re…” Jeannie whispered. “You’re not… like me—or….” Her blue eyes went to the elevator into which Hannah had disappeared. “Her.”

  “I don’t think so?” Gwen said. Her face had a touching mixture of relief at her unexpected good fortune and sympathetic guilt at leaving Jeannie behind.

  The bailiff had opened the cage. “You’ll get your clothes back at school,” he said. “Come with me.”

  “You’re lucky,” Jeannie said, forcing a smile onto her face.

  Gwen glanced around the courtroom. When she replied, “Yeah,” she seemed momentarily unsure she meant it.

  “Yeah,” Gwen said again, a little more confidently as if in response to the deep frown on Jeannie’s face.

  “Gwen,” the bailiff said a little impatiently, “time to go.”

  “Good luck,” she said to Jeannie. For a moment it looked like the girls might hug, but Jeannie held back at the last second. Jake’s heart felt another pang as he saw the reason why, in the upper right of the window that showed him her close-up: her pussy had clenched at the prospect of the naked hug. As expected and planned for, Hannah’s story had begun to stir same-sex arousal triggers in Jeannie for the first time.

  Gwen exited the cage with a final quick, sad smile at Jeannie, and disappeared into the elevator moments later. Jeannie’s eyes fixed themselves on the clerk, as if hoping that somehow it would all suddenly stop and everyone in the courtroom would reveal themselves to be an actor in an elaborate prank on Jeannie Rendoski.

  “Matter 37 dash 895. Jean Rendoski,” the clerk said, though.

  “Charge?” Judge Oh asked, turning to look intently at Jeannie, her judicial indifference gone.

  “Illicit coitus,” the clerk declared.

  Jeannie’s arousal jump, up to 8 at Gwen’s departure, had fallen back to 6. Now the number in the corner of the window rose again: 7.

  “Your honor,” attorney Hersey said, “Miss Rendoski invited her boyfriend to have sex with her in an empty classroom. Her principal found them in flagrante.”

  “Mr. Swenska?” asked the judge.

  Jeannie’s eyes darted from judge to prosecutor to defense attorney. 8 was the number on Jake’s screen: fight-or-flight generally enhanced sexual arousal for a Beta Plus, and Jeannie’s alarm and confusion at the drama taking place outside her cage, which considered her so very intimately, had begun to reinforce the need in her pussy. For any submissive, the basic authoritarian constellation of the courtroom had a tendency to increase what the assessors sometimes called background horniness. Altogether, naked court generally ended up a signal experience in a bad girl’s awakening.

  “Your honor, it’s clear that Miss Rendoski’s boyfriend did the inviting, which makes it enticement. I’m asking for probation.”

  “Is that true, Miss Rendoski?” the judge asked, looking directly at Jeannie. “Who proposed that you have sex?”

  Jeannie looked over at the defense counsel.

  “Go ahead,” Swenska said, “tell the truth.” He meant the exact opposite, of course. Defense attorneys in naked court had an unusual role, in cases like Jeannie’s. Their function—like the judges’—lay in making certain that Selecta hadn’t made a mistake. Swenska knew as well as Martha Hersey and Vanessa Oh did that Jake—or someone in Jake’s role—watched from one of Selecta’s facilities, evaluating Jeannie’s biometrics. The play the defense attorney had just made represented one of several that would make the final sentence secure.

  Jake watched Jeannie’s skin galvanics very closely. Just before she lied, he saw the jump he wanted to see: the basic, almost irresistible defiance in her nature coming out. Then, as she actually spoke the lie, her arousal jumped a point: 9.

  In the appropriate box, Jake typed, Beta Plus responses confirmed in special session, even as Jeannie floundered verbally in obvious hope of making her lie convincing.

  “He did, your honor. He… um… he gave me a note, in English class?”

  “Your honor,” Martha Hersey interjected, “I ask that this note, from Miss Rendoski to her boyfriend, be admitted
into evidence.” The prosecutor reached a bag toward the bailiff. Through the clear plastic Jake could see a small scrap of torn paper, clearly once crumpled up into a very small ball and thrown away.

  “So ordered,” the judge said.

  Jeannie’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “But…” she said. “But he… I mean, I… that’s not…”

  “Be quiet, please, Miss Rendoski,” said Judge Oh. “Don’t make it even worse for yourself.”

  Chapter 9

  Oh, God. Why did I lie? How stupid could I be?

  Jeannie watched the note, the fucking note, the one she had felt sure Mike had kept, or had at least thrown away somewhere it could never be found. The note, in its clear plastic bag, traveled from the horrible prosecutor’s hand to the dispassionate hand of the clerk, who glanced down at it as if it carried some awful disease.

  “Your honor,” said the defense attorney, making Jeannie’s heart rise just a little. He had gotten that Gwen girl off, hadn’t he? Even if he hadn’t been able to help Hannah?

  “Yes, Mr. Swenska?” the judge asked coolly.

  “Your honor, we’ll stipulate to the contents of the note.”

  Stipulate? What did that mean?

  “Not so fast, your honor,” the prosecutor said. “I’d like the clerk to read it, please.”

  “Please…” Jeannie couldn’t help crying out from the cage.

  “Silence, Miss Rendoski,” said the woman in the black robe, frowning over at her. “The clerk will read the note.”

  Jeannie closed her eyes and looked at the floor of the cage. The hardwood ended at the barred swinging door, and cold, bare concrete began there. It seemed like it must symbolize something—something bad… something about what happened to bad girls.

  Where bad girls go.

  “Dude,” the clerk read in a flat voice. “The French room is empty at 2, just like last week, and my pussy needs some of that D…” The clerk paused. “That’s a capital D,” he added, in an aside kind of voice. Then he returned to the matter-of-fact reciting tone: “See you there?” Again the clerk’s voice changed. “That’s followed by a heart drawn in pen…”

  Jeannie’s face had gotten hot during the reading, but now it flamed so hot she thought for a moment it might actually catch fire. She opened her eyes to see the judge looking calmly at her, and the prosecutor gazing at her with a scornful air, while the defense attorney leafed through the papers on his desk, obviously embarrassed for her.

  Jeannie didn’t know which reaction mortified her the most, but her nudity, the naked shame bestowed on her for what she had done with Mike, the way her bare bottom showed the three welts from the guard’s strap, struck her with terrible force. The heat in her cheeks blazed up anew, but even more distressingly and confusingly, the problem between her thighs became much worse, too. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out at the way she had clenched, down there, in response to her humiliation in the courtroom.

  “And,” finished the clerk, “by the letter J.”

  Suddenly she saw a ray of hope, even if her stupid defense attorney couldn’t. She pushed her awful arousal away, and called out to the judge, putting as much scorn and disdain into her voice as she could.

  “J could be anyone, your honor.”

  “I warned you, Miss Rendoski,” said the judge. “Bailiff, please gag the defendant.”

  It took all of Jeannie’s defiance not to cower back as the bailiff entered the cage, holding the black ball gag with its leather straps. Instead, she opened her mouth and stood stoically, glaring at all of them as the middle-aged officer silently and expertly buckled it over her disheveled hair.

  “You will nod,” the judge told her, “or shake your head. If I need further clarification, which is unlikely, I will ask the bailiff to remove the gag. Do you understand?”

  Scowling, Jeannie nodded. The gag reminded her of how Principal Davis had introduced her to cock-sucking, only an hour or so before, and her cheeks once again got scalding hot at the thought of everything that had happened because of that stupid note.

  “Ms. Hersey?” the judge asked, her businesslike manner returning.

  “Your honor,” the prosecutor replied, “we have surveillance footage of Miss Rendoski writing the note. We also have footage of the coitus itself.”

  Jeannie’s heart beat very quickly now. She fixed her eyes on the lame excuse for a defense attorney. He said nothing, but kept sorting through papers.

  “And how was it handled at school?” the judge asked.

  “The principal imposed preliminary disciplinary consequences. A paddling and instructional intercourse with himself, his security officer, and the addressee of the note.”

  Jeannie closed her eyes and swallowed hard. The sense memory of the fucking in the classroom—the helpless orgasms Principal Davis had forced on her with the hard fucking of his pounding cock—forced her to shift her weight from foot to foot to keep her hips from squirming in the most humiliating possible way.

  “Is that all true, Miss Rendoski?” the judge asked.

  Without opening her eyes, Jeannie nodded.

  “Mr. Swenska?”

  “Your honor,” the man said, “Miss Rendoski is a clear candidate for leniency under CCP 56 sub h. Her test scores…”

  Jeannie frowned. Leniency. She didn’t want anyone’s fucking leniency. She opened her eyes to glare at Mr. Swenska.

  “Her test scores,” returned the prosecutor, “don’t outweigh her obviously recalcitrant character. We recommend Advanced Guidance.”

  Jeannie breathed hard through her nose. Advanced Guidance: that same phrase. The principal had used it, and Hannah Martin had gotten it, too—whatever it might mean.

  “So ordered,” said the judge. The gavel came down with a bang. “Bailiff, please take her to my chambers. We’ll adjourn until tomorrow morning. I thank the court for its service.”

  * * *

  Jeannie had no idea what she thought might lie through the darkened door, but it didn’t involve a post in the middle of an elegant study, with a naked girl tied to it by her hands—or the bailiff tying Jeannie’s hands to it by the same kind of short webbing strap that kept them at the level of her eyes. Hannah’s eyes went wide to see Jeannie with the gag in her mouth, and the red-haired girl watched intently as the guard who had taken over from the bailiff at the door removed it and then left the judge’s chambers.

  “Did you…?” Hannah whispered.

  Jeannie whispered back, “Advanced Guidance.” She nodded. “What… what is it?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Girls, I imagine you’re whispering about the place where bad girls go.”

  The voice came from behind Jeannie. She turned, very awkwardly because of how the officer had bound her to the post, to see the judge standing just inside the doorway. The judge’s appearance, however, had changed so radically from how the middle-aged woman had looked in her courtroom that Jeannie gave a little cry of surprise, which she heard echoed in Hannah’s voice, just to her left.

  Judge Oh—the name suddenly came back to Jeannie, though she hadn’t even realized she had read it on the placard atop the big bench in the courtroom—had taken off her robe. So little time had passed since the bailiff had brought Jeannie into the judge’s chambers that the older woman must never have had anything on under her robe but what Jeannie and Hannah now saw: a black basque corset and stockings with lacy tops that set off her slim thighs so breathtakingly that Jeannie felt faint.

  On her feet Judge Oh wore black stiletto heels. Jeannie could see the small brown nipples that crowned the woman’s firm breasts through the lace trim of the basque. Between her thighs a tight triangle of black hair covered the judge’s panty-less pussy. Thinking of the bareness of the pouting slit between her own legs, Jeannie felt her cheeks go very hot.

  The judge stood by what must be a hidden cabinet in her bookshelves that she had just opened. Her eyes didn’t move from the naked girls tied to the post i
n the middle of her chambers even as she reached her hand into the cabinet. She smiled as if in satisfaction at Jeannie’s and Hannah’s reaction to what she brought out; things that made Jeannie’s heart jump at the alarming sight of them.

  “Hannah Martin and Jeannie Rendoski,” the judge said softly but with an authority that made Jeannie swallow very hard, “I’m going to call you by your first names, now, if you don’t mind.”

  Jeannie’s lips parted and her breath came in tiny pants at the difference between the polite words and the implications of the things in the judge’s hands. As a bad girl, Jeannie had made a point of learning about things like strap-on dildos, but the thick black shaft in Judge Oh’s left hand, and its stout harness, made her think her naughty research hadn’t told her as much as she might need to know. And the flogger of braided leather in the judge’s right hand, recognizable to anyone who had watched a few hours of the more mature kind of videos allowed to eighteen-year-olds at the educational facility… Jeannie had kind of thought those things weren’t even real.

  “It’s my job,” the judge said in that same soft but commanding voice, “to manage your transition into the special prison system the government and the corporations have put into place for girls like you, who need what we call Advanced Guidance.”

  That scary phrase again. Jeannie felt her forehead crease. She darted a glance over at Hannah, who wore a scarlet-faced expression of the same kind of confusion Jeannie knew must appear in her own eyes.

  “Look at me, Jeannie,” the judge said, her voice rising a little to a sterner edge. “The next time you look away, you’ll feel this on that pretty backside of yours.”

  The older woman raised the flogger to display it to the naked girls bound to the post.

  Oh, my God, Jeannie suddenly realized, feeling her eyes go wide. It’s a whipping post. I’m tied to a whipping post.

  To her dismay, her body reacted to the thought so strongly that for a moment Jeannie thought she must be going insane. She sobbed with the shameful need that seemed to get stronger the more she tried to deny it; her pussy had just clenched, and her hips had actually jerked, her bottom squirming in response to the judge’s words.