The Perils of Judge Julia

by DrkFetyshNyghts

  At first when she was raised off her feet there was a slight trembling to the flesh. A kind of ripple down her torso, from the neck down. Where the flesh was loose, like the breasts, the buttocks and thighs, so the tremble and ripple would follow like a tsunami working its way inland. But as the bondage all snapped tightly, as it all came together stretching Mandy to the limits of endurance, so the rippling stopped. Then there was just that distant sound. The one that came from deep inside her. The one that came from the pit of the stomach, or even beyond that – the soul maybe. Or beyond the soul. One would be sure that if she could weep she would weep. At the same time one would be equally sure that if she had been able to scream, maybe by now that screaming would have stopped. Mandy would be at a point where she would make as little noise as possible. Noise would mean reverberation and that would mean that she would be in danger of expanding on the pain, and extreme discomfort she was feeling. So she would stop screaming, had she been able to scream and she would slow her breathing down a bit – take long slow breaths, as though she were pursing her full lips. Blowing out and sucking in gently. Instead of that though there was the ghastly hissing sound, the hiss of the blowing out of air and the hiss of sucking in air. In the otherwise deathly thick silence of the chamber, that hissing became a haunting sound one not easily forgettable. It was almost as thought there should have been a taste to that sound, and an odour. If there were a taste and odour, would could just imagine it would be a sex drenched latex taste and smell. Latex and pure sexuality.

  There was a time when another noise gushed into the chamber. And it did 'gush' because it was at the exact time that the bondage rig and been fine tuned to its limit, or to Mandy's limit. When her legs were as wide as they would go, when her bound arms and wrists had been hoisted as high as they would go; it was at that exact time that Mandy lost control and therefor the contents of her bladder. It was a gush, a sudden gush that immediately drowned out that distant sound, that distant sound of dripping. The hot steaming urine dripping and finding its own level, draining through the abattoir style drain hole directly underneath Mandy, right between her wide open legs. This very drain placement leading to the conclusion that similar acts of betrayal by victim's bodies in this place was a regular occurrence. Thinking about it, that distant dripping sound, the one that couldn't initially be explained, could well have been emanating from that hole in the otherwise thick, sealed floor. Mandy gushing, emptying her bladder and her Torturess, because that's basically what she was, standing back, leaning against one of the steel walls, a prime good view, nodding her head slowly, as though confirming to herself that with that happening, with that event, Mandy losing her bladder contents, was a final and very real realisation that she was in deep deep crap. Crap that she wouldn't be able to climb out of. At least not under her own steam.

  “Mmmmmmmmmnnnngngngnngngngnngnngngnnnnn hhhhhhghghhghgh ghhhghghghghhhhhhh.”

  Mandy hadn't even adapted her mind or body to what had been done to it so far when a new explosion of sensations wracked through her body. She was sinking into disorientation and a mind melt but that did not mask any way her knowledge that her sexuality was being invaded again. First, a finger sliding with ease into her still urine dripping sex. Parting the lips and then dipping in deep. She could feel the fingers inside her, curling and then opening and then scissoring inside her. It was like the Torturess was deliberately working her flesh, deliberately stimulating it so that she would produce more and more of her most intimate juices. Using that as a humiliation yes, but using it also, preparing the flesh for what was to come. That explosion of sensations coming as 'something' was slid inside her. What was actually being slid inside her was a vibrating egg. At first glance this thing was egg shaped but on closer inspection one would see that it had been micro-designed and manufactured especially for purpose. The fingers inside Mandy and then her sex being held open with those finger, the egg sliding up inside her easily. Her sex almost 'sucking' the egg up inside and closing behind it. Indeed the slippery, squelching noise produced would lead to that conclusion. That the Torturess had held the egg in an open palm and offered to the hairless smooth, pouting sex of the young girl. And that creature, that sex of the girl had taken the bait, pouted its lips and sucked it up inside itself. Once inside her, that egg moving, sliding around, searching, hunting for its prime location, the ideal location where it could settle and hum away to its heart content. And that is what it did. It slid up, turned, and twisted and then settled, right up behind the pubis, pressing into Mandy's G spot. Just right there. Pressing in and humming against it. The effect immediate and profound. For the first time, a real and intense pleasure FORCED onto the young girl. A more humiliating, demeaning thing not really possible than having intense sexual pleasure forced on oneself at such a time of distress and despair. Sexuality and sexual pleasure was deeply personal, something that should only be attained and controlled by the individual it was affecting. This was way beyond that, the control taken away, and as the egg turned and settled against her G spot, so that noise filled Mandy's mind. It didn't fill the chamber, just her mind. As that egg turned and settled so Mandy's sex lips closed behind it, keeping it there. The pleasure it was producing ensuring that the young girl gripped onto and held it just there. The design of the egg object doing its bit.

  “Mmmmmmmmmnnnngngnngngngngnngngngng hhhhhhhhnngngnngngnngngngnn hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

  That enforced, total pleasure was a constant. So was the slow drip, drip drip of Mandy's juices. That screaming moaning groaning in her own mind was a constant to. Then the feeling of finger working around her sexuality again. Fingers and thumbs lightly pinching the swollen, slippery labia. Pinching them closed together, the pads of finger and thumb pressing an then sliding up and down the length of the outer labia. The sensation of those fingers and thumbs feeding and encouraging the outrageous pleasure the egg was feeding her from inside. Then another sensation – her labia's being peeled apart and held like that. In her imagination her labia being held open with scissored fingers. And another sensation, the inner folds of flesh, the delicate pink folds of inner labia being looked for and found just before a mind numbing sensation of these inner lips being gripped by some sort of clamp. Long clamps, one to each of the inner labia. Strong spring clamp that sought and located the entire flesh of the inner labia and pinched it tight to the base. Flat edged clamps, not tooth wielding clamps, but clamps designed to pinch the maximum amount of that oh-so-sensitive flesh and then distort it with its strength. Mandy's eyes bulging and pressing against the latex lenses. Knowing where that intense pinching pain was coming from and yet unable because of the bondage, to look down between her own legs to see it. The pinching, slowly numbing pain and the inner buzz from the G spot egg working in unison to great a yin and yang, pain and pleasure explosion. And then barely enough time for her to adapt to those new sensations when yet another aspect was introduced. Another explosion inside her melting mind as weights were attached to the labia clamps. Mandy was in no position, or no mind to say how heavy the clamps were. They felt very heavy. Only the uniformed Torturess would know that these weights, bullet shaped weights on the ends of micro-thin wire and hanging between wide open legs, heavy enough to pull the inner lips down from between her outer labia creating a disturbing vision of stretched pink inner flesh, contrasting with the juice dripping darker puffed flesh of her outer labia. Mandy's mind melting more as she tried, at least in her head to adapt to what was happening to her. From time to time, the gag closing down her breathing a little as she tried, through no fault of her own, to get more air than she was entitled to. She accepted in her own mind that that was her fault and she had to control it. Had to control it. Once she had got the message, regulating her breathing again so that the airway would re-open for her. As she settled, and as she got into a rhythm of breathing and absorbing the pain and pleasure she was feeling, so her clitoris received the distant inner buzz from the egg located inside her, just behind it. The clitoris filling and
then 'peeling' out of its hood as it erected, and filled and began to throb slowly, steadily.

  The Torturess watched the weights slowly swing, and turn to a standstill and she looked on, clenched her thighs as she produced another snake like dildo object that would soon be embedded in Mandy's back door. The inflation used to stretch the inner flesh of Mandy, and the engorged bell end of it, finding its way in deep and up against the young girls colon. In addition the middle aged uniformed woman produced a lethal looking, pencil thin whip style crop. Braided leather bound round a wire core and designed to cause maximum pain, with the least effort. This would be used to the best and most excrutiating effect on Mandy's breasts.Over the next twenty four hours Mandy would be slowly and systematically broken down. Bit by bit she would have her layers peeled away and equally as slowly she would be deconstructed. The Torturess smiled a wide smile as a squirt, more than a gush of thick slippery juice from Mandy's distended sex flesh, just beneath the clitoris signalled the first, of many, intense, enforced orgasms. Mind in full melt mode. Now Mandy's mind was melting proper.

  24 Hours Later

  Mandy was belly down on the cold steel floor of the chamber and she was licking the Torturess's boots. Not limp, weak licks but full bodied flat tongue, pure licks which cleaned and then polished the leather. The reason she was cleaning the leather; just before she had got belly down and crawled to the boots, she had 'humped' them. First one, then the other. She had humped, or ridden each boot until she had orgasmed and ejaculated her own produce over them. She had slid onto each boot working the leathered toes between her swollen distended labia and she had ridden them, still being worn by the Torturess. Then she had cleaned them. She had almost sickeningly, lovingly licked and cleaned her own mess off them. Mandy hadn't been told to do either. She hadn't been 'told' to hump the boots, or she hadn't been 'told' then to clean them. It was simply something that she knew was expected and she had been directed by the woman, just with her eyes. It was something she just 'knew' after being broken by this woman. And she was broken. Oh yes she was broken but as well, deep deep down inside there was a little bit of herself, just a little teeny bit that told her to go into 'survival mode'. Just a little bit of something left of herself to tell her to get through this next twelve weeks. Get through them whatever it took, do whatever it took, take whatever she had to take... and then get out and track down Judge Julia. That thought, sometimes a very vivid thought in a melted mind, was the one that kept her going.

  TWO – JUDGE JULIA

  13 Weeks Later.

  “I simply MUST tell you darling, I do like the way you seem to be clearing the City streets of the low-life single handedly. You just deserve the biggest of round of applauses for that it must be said.”

  Her name was Martha and she was speaking to Julia but at the same time intending that her words be heard and absorbed by the entire dinner party. And duly, there was a ripple of applause with the odd “here here” thrown in there for good measure. It was a posh do and as such, everyone in attendance was posh; had posh accents and dressed posh and acted posh. Posh oozed from the decorative expensive posh velvet wallpaper that adorned the walls. Men in black tie, women in all their finery. The private fine dining room at one of London's most exclusive Hotels stank of cigar smoke and indeed a cloud of the stuff hung just below the high ornate ceiling covering the whole of the room. The huge, expensive dining table seated thirty with ease, and the full compliment was in attendance. Various high profile people, from members of parliament, through influential City business type, a couple of Lords and Ladies splattered in there and even the odd, high ranking police officer or two. It would certainly be 'the' room to hold hostage if such an opportunity presented itself to one of that persuasion. The men were handsome, wealthy and the women were 'grande'. Most were middle aged or beyond, and some fell into the mutton dressed as lamb category except they had been garnished with expensive clothes and even more expensive perfumery. And then there were the exceptions to the rule. Although in this case, on this particular evening, Julia was the only exception to the rule in that she was, out of her professional attire, a stunning statuesque woman of something approaching amazonian proportions. At thirty seven years old she was at the peak of her sexual prowess and that kind of emanated from her in a glow that is hard to describe, and in a feminine confidence that simply saw heads turn the moment she walked into a room. Julia, even during her day job as a Crown Court Judge at the top of her profession, was immaculate. She didn't just exude perfection to those looking form the outside. She did that with ease, and anyone's eyes that happened to pour over her would be reluctant to leave her. She indeed was perfection on stunning shapely legs. It was the same routine when she got ready for work as when she got ready for one of these functions. She would begin naked and simply apply more layers of perfection on top. When men, and some women looked at her in 'that' way, whatever was going through their minds about the fragrant redhead was ultimately true. And when younger people saw her, she undoubtedly had the Mrs Robinson effect that older women usually have on young boys. She was a fantasy brought to life – one of those creatures the true life rarely created. But she was like one of the exaggerated fetish drawings brought to life. An impossible Amazonian with an impossible figure, impossible legs, impossible breasts. Even more impossible lips and with an impossibly seductive husky drawl that poured from between them should that drawing be turned in a little movie clip. She spoke softly and yet she also spoke sternly. Tiny little nuances, little minute differences in tone and pitch which negated the need for her to raise her voice, or make wild hand gestures in order to get her point across. She brought such perfection into the Court also. As usual when a Judge comes in everyone stands. But in Judge Julia's case they didn't simply stand, the did that but they did it with awe and something approaching an awestruck silence simply washed through the room, all eyes on the great woman herself. In most cases, it would be easy to say that the Judge was simply playing the part, acting to expectations. But in Julia's case she was simply, naturally doing what she did.

  “Oh, for goodness sakes Martha, I'm not ridding the streets of anything. I am simply using the law, and the justice system to help the 'creatures'.”

  One would have to do a second take, to ask oneself if Julia had really emphasised the creature word or not. She had but it was barely detectable and almost lost in the slight ripple of laughter and the even less pronounced ripple of agreement of what she was saying and the words she used. She shifted on her high backed chair and recrossed her legs under the table. The sound of nylon rasping on nylon was almost electric as she bounced her stiletto'd foot slightly.

  “Mmmmm yes but darling, those 'creatures' definitely need to be caged and taken out of society. And you it must be said are doing that with vigour, and authority.”