by Mark Andrews
The bailiff released her arm now and used both hands to unzip the skirt and then rip it bodily from her, tearing it irreparably in the process. It dropped to the floor and he manoeuvred her so that she stepped out of it. She now had on only her shoes and stockings (held up by garters), her brief silk panties and the bra.
The stockings came first. The bailiff was now quite experienced at stripping both male and female prisoners and he enjoyed both acts very much for both sexes found favour in his eyes. He bent over slightly, reaching down to her upper left thigh and then, squatting down beside her, dragged the stocking down with a quick motion, pulling her shoe off with it. Her right stocking followed suit and now her audience, from the judge down, actually licked its collective lips as they surveyed the creamy smooth flesh of her thighs and legs, admiring the firm muscles of both.
But better things were still to come. Her tiny bra hid little but it would be better with it gone. The bailiff smiled slightly as he stood up and, holding her by her arm once more, took out his penknife, ready to cut the strap.
Of course she had not been silent during all of this. She had tried to remain aloof from it, well knowing that what was happening to her now had already been perpetrated on dozens of other criminals since the evolution of the new laws and she had no reason to expect anything different. But then as her outer garments had been ripped from her body, she had cried again and then pleaded with the judge not to do this to her.
“I am tired of your snivelling, girl. When you are fully naked, as you should be, of course, you will be caned ...” He paused and then smiled thinly. “A half dozen strokes, Bailiff ...”
“Certainly, Your Honour. A round half dozen.”
But she wasn’t naked yet. He still had to remove her bra and panties. The former took only a quick slice with his penknife through the elastic and the thing dropped to the floor in front of her revealing that she didn’t really need the brief garment at all. Her smooth, so creamy breasts stood firmly out from her chest as two perfect orbs, grapefruit in size and capped by inch-wide areoles that were in turn surmounted by delightfully erect nipples.
Not that she was excited by her ordeal. Not in the slightest. No, it was fear and shame that had caused them to stand out but her audience didn’t know that and as they stared at her now stark naked upper body, lips were again licked by nervous tongues, each of which ached to sample those wonderful-looking nubs of coral pink flesh - yes, even some of the women in the court would have liked to have had her at their mercy for a few minutes - and not only to run their hands over the creamy flesh, either.
“And now her panties, if you please, Bailiff,” said the judge unctuously.
“Certainly, Your Honour,” repeated the official who now grinned, any sympathy he might have had for Debra now gone as he surveyed her beautiful near-naked body - and wished he might have had the wherewithal to buy her. He knew his wife would enjoy having her as a domestic slave and since they played around the scene a bit, wouldn’t be averse to having her in their bed at nights, either. But then he didn’t have the wherewithal, so his conjecture was rather moot.
He did have her in his hands right now though and while holding her belly in his left hand, grasped the back of the hip-band of the panties with the other - and pulled, tearing the flimsy garment open from the back and exposing her firm and muscular rear - then dragged them right down and off her, revealing her neatly trimmed pubic hair and her mound although her vulva and what it concealed were still partially hidden by the hair.
The judge didn’t want this moment to end. He had been an enthusiastic supporter of the new laws, especially when he had a beautiful young girl to sentence - and this girl was about as beautiful as he had seen in his court for a long time, certainly the best he’d had since the advent of the new laws and he was going to drag this out as long as he could. That had been part of the reason for the corporal punishment he had ordered.
That would be next ...
The bailiff left her standing alone and went over to his desk, extracting a long supple cane from the pot beside his chair and returning to stand beside the girl.
“Six you said, Your Honour?”
“As long as she remains stoical. If she screams too much, we will double the punishment.”
“Right,” the man said to the judge but then, in a lowered voice, ordered Debra to spread her legs and to place her hands up behind her head with her elbows pulled well back. “Remember to keep that position all through the punishment girl,” he said gruffly, “and not to scream. I don’t want to have to give you another six ...”
That was a fib - he would dearly love to give her another six but he thought a little kindness wouldn’t be amiss now.
Debra stifled a sob. It might be construed as a scream and so earn her a double punishment. She spread her legs about eighteen inches apart and placed her hands behind her head, and even remembered to pull her elbows back, thus thrusting her lovely breasts out even more blatantly at the judge - who almost had an apoplectic fit at the beauty of her outrageously displayed body.
Of course it wasn’t really outrageous, not now. Not in the terms of the new laws. All this was now perfectly legal and acceptable. She had erred and she must be punished - brutally punished as the new laws demanded.
The bailiff raised the cane and then lashed it down in a perfect arc so that it connected across both cheeks.
Its sound could be heard as its tip passed through the air. It could perhaps be written as “Thweeeeiiiiip!” and then landed with a distinctive thunk on the soft flesh of the twin mounds. Debra had been steeling herself for the pain but she had had no idea it could possibly be so awful. It didn’t sting. It burned with an intensity that she likened to a red-hot poker being laid across her nether cheeks.
Her face went a bright crimson as she struggled to contain her voice. She shut her mouth, grinding her jaws together until they hurt. She closed her eyes and screwed up her face in a supreme effort. She kept her two feet on the floor but every other part of her lovely young body squirmed deliciously as she struggled to keep stoical.
Behind her, her two parents sat bemused at the sight of their daughter, as naked as they hadn’t seen her since she was a baby, being so viciously punished but they weren’t sorry for her. They had, according to their own lights, been good to her and she had snubbed them by her unreasonableness (that’s not what she would have called it but then she wasn’t them). In their minds, she deserved what she was getting - if it hadn’t been for the shame her punishment was bringing down on their heads.
The judge admired her pluck. Most girls he had ordered to be caned, screamed at the very first stroke. Very well, he would make her suffer more. “Turn around, girl. Face your parents for the next few strokes ...”
Oh God! Could he mean it? He did. She shuffled around but kept her hands tightly clasped behind her beautiful head of silken gold tresses and prepared herself for the next stroke. At least she knew how bad it was now, she thought.
“Thweeeeiiiiip!”
And again she held her peace as the pain cut right through her bottom, although now the red-hot poker felt even hotter ... And she stared at her parents in hate. How could they sit there and watch her shamed and hurt in such terrible a way, she thought. She actually blamed them in her mind for her plight. If her father hadn’t been such a stickler for running every aspect of her life (even though he paid for it), she wouldn’t have been here. And the very least they could have done would have been to get up and leave after she was found guilty by the jury. The outcome after that was now well known and she thought they could have spared her their presence. Indeed, her mother might have left but her father wanted to see it all - even his daughter’s nakedness and now her corporal punishment and since he ruled the roost with scant regard for his wife’s feelings, she too sat there and watched.
Debra decided she would use her newfound hatr
ed of them to bolster her courage for the remaining four strokes. And as the cane was raised for the third stroke, she focused on it. “Thweeeeiiiiip!” it went yet again and once more landed on her now tensioned flesh. Again she held her peace but now there were three violently red marks across her shapely and formerly creamy buttocks.
“Turn around again, girl,” said the judge sonorously.
“Thweeeeiiiiip ... Thunk” went the cane. Two to go, she thought, her mind desperate now as the burning pain doubled with each new stroke. How could she face another six if she was unable to keep silent, she wondered, her whole body trembling now. She was even having difficulty standing still as she waited for the fifth stroke.
“Thweeeeiiiiip!” it went and another red-hot stroke, all five evenly spaced across her formerly pristine cheeks. The bailiff had been practising on a pillow at home for the judge quite often made such an order, especially with the younger girls who came before him.
“Thweeeeiiiiip ... thunk.” At last, it was all over. She had kept silent - just, although it had been the hardest thing she had ever had to do in her whole life. She looked up at the judge and was surprised to see a look of respect in his eyes as he stared (still lecherously though) down at her from his bench. What she didn’t realise was that few girls had ever showed her fortitude and most earned another six strokes (which the bailiff administered with somewhat diminished vigour).
She didn’t know what to expect by way of sentence. She knew of course that English law (which was still in force in this part of the world for each area still kept its own laws until a particular law was replaced with the universal law, much as Scotland had kept its own criminal law at the union of the two kingdoms) was very strict as far as the law of property was concerned but she wasn’t prepared for the severity of the sentence.
The judge was only following precedent however. “Five years penal slavery,” he said. “You will be taken to a place of assessment and there classified ...”
Classified? She felt as if she was a fleece of wool as she stood there, stark naked, six terrible marks now gracing her delicious hindquarters.
“Following classification,” the judge went on, “you will be sold on the public block, to serve your new Master for five years or until he deems you surplus to his requirements whereupon he may sell you again, either privately or at public auction. I trust, when you are finally freed, that you will not offend again, young lady ...”
The injustice of it all, she thought. So she had stolen quite a bit of food and some clothes but she had really needed them. She couldn’t bear the thought of lining up to be interviewed for the dole and going back home with her tail between her legs was unthinkable.
But now she faced ‘classification’, whatever that meant, and then she was going to be auctioned. As the bailiff led her back up into the dock and then down the stairs behind it to the cells below, she reflected on what she knew of both awful events.
Of course she hadn’t thought them awful before. They had merely been part of the new laws and they didn’t affect her - she had thought. Now they most certainly did affect her. What did classification involve, she wondered.
Medical examination was part of it, she thought and then wasn’t there something about a strength and an endurance test? Yes, she was sure there was that. Then she had heard something of a sex test. Did they want to know if she was a virgin? She wasn’t but she had certainly not been promiscuous. There had only been Peter whom she had really loved and she thought he was going to be the man she would marry. It hadn’t worked out but she hadn’t had any regrets. Okay, so they would check that. What else? She really had no idea but she wasn’t looking forward to it.
The public auctions, however, she did know about. She had even been to one once. It had been a sort of dare among her friends. They had dared each other to go along to watch as a batch of new slaves had been sold. At that time, they had been intrigued and not a little sexually excited, especially as they had watched the naked young men sold but each of them had shuddered a little when the girls had been lined up on the stage in the square outside the civic building ...
As the bailiff handed her over to the watch house-keeper and he placed her in a cell with other naked girls and young (and some older) women, she had cried a little. “Bit late for that now, girlie.” He paused and looked darkly at her, “unless you fancy another six stripes to add to those already on your shapely little bottom?”
She stopped crying immediately and stared at him. Did he have that authority, she wondered? Her eyes strayed to a large pot near his desk opposite the line of cages in which stark naked prisoners of both sexes and all ages stood or sat on the floor. Oh God! Yes, he must have. At least a dozen canes and birch rods of various thicknesses stood proudly in the pot. If he didn’t have the right to use them they wouldn’t be there.
As he locked the door on her and turned to go back to his desk, one of the older women in the cage put her arm around her shoulder. “Yes, dearie, he can and he will, so you had better settle down and accept your lot.”
“I will appeal,” she said firmly, her spirit fired up again.
“No you won’t, girl,” the woman said, a slight edge now in her voice. “Appeals cost money but in any case, all you’re likely to get is a doubling of your sentence - that is if they allow you to appeal and that’s unlikely ...”
Debra slumped again, now against the naked body of the older woman who held her firmly, but now reached up to fondle her lovely breasts and then even let her fingers stray down to the trimmed thatch at her mound. “You stick with me dearie, I’ll see you all right ...”
Debra pushed her away, her face blushing madly at the lewd grins on the faces of the other girls and women in the cage. “No. I’m not like that. Keep away from me!”
The rest of the women and girls chuckled and one admonished the woman. “Go on, Hazel. She got your measure all right. You’d have had her licking you off in a minute ...”
Debra stared out at the guard who was staring at them from across the room. Surely he would do something about this blatant female homosexuality in his cells. No, she decided dispiritedly. He wouldn’t. His face was as red and his right hand was down in front of him between his legs. He was obviously turned on by the whole thing.
Oh God, she thought for the umpteenth time, how bad is it going to be?
Chapter 2
Debra thought the assessment process, particularly the medical examination part of it, quite the worst thing that had happened to her in her short life - but then each new event that had transpired from the moment of her conviction had been the same.
Her forcible and very public stripping in the courtroom before the public gallery had been utterly devastating! That she had had to stand there while the court bailiff had physically ripped each item of clothing from her body until she was stark naked - without even her brief panties to cover the most secret, private and intimate part of her body from the gaze of every single man and woman in the courtroom - including even the mother and father she now despised.
But then it had gone from bad to worse. She had then been caned. Publicly chastised by the bailiff with six dreadful strokes of his cane across her naked bottom while she had to stand there, sometimes facing the audience in the courtroom with her legs apart and her hands held up behind her head so that every formerly private part of her body was on full and open display.
Then she had been brought, still stark naked, down to the holding cells where dozens of other women and men were held, all totally naked, in six large holding pens, just like zoo cages, until the weekly transport to the Assessment Centre.
It had been awful. The pens were made of vertical iron bars ranged along the back wall of the former cell area under the Old Bailey. Each was about twenty feet square and, apart from a very public metal latrine in one corner - at the front left hand side of each cage where those who needed to
relieve themselves were in full view of the guards - and others, was quite bereft of any furniture. The floor was plain concrete and the harsh fluorescent lights were never turned off.
The watch-house keeper sat at his desk in the middle of the long corridor facing the front of the cells (or cages) and greeted each guest, or group of them, that came in constantly to look over the naked prisoners - all now slaves, of course, in the cages.
The government had decided that they might as well get as much as possible out of this new state-run industry and so those with the wherewithal could book and pay for the right to come and have a preview of the new slaves, even before their assessment.
There were up to a dozen slaves in each cage and all they could do all day was exercise or sit on the floor ... when they weren’t eating or passing their wastes, that is - and even these functions could be observed not only by their fellow newly-made slaves but also by the paying public.
Eating was purposely made as degrading as possible - they were now only slaves for the duration of their sentences, after all. By the year 2030, technology had advanced enormously since the turn of the millennium. At a warning buzzer, a part of the floor opened and a log narrow trough emerged. This was filled with porridge. It was more than porridge - actually it was a very nutritious mixture but it looked and tasted like unsalted, unsweetened porridge and since they were fed but once a day (at noon), all the inmates of each cage were very hungry and at the buzzer quickly knelt down in a line where the trough would shortly emerge, ready to get their heads down into the steaming mush while the spectators, who came in their hundreds to watch the new slaves feed like animals, stark naked animals, at the feeding trough, gloated over their degradation.
Many had to evacuate their wastes after this event and he or she now had to line up in a queue to perform this embarrassing function in a totally public position while the free men and women who had paid dearly to come and see fellow human beings degraded, laughed and tittered amongst themselves at the sight of people being reduced to animals. To clean themselves afterwards, they had to flush the latrine while they sat on it, using their hands to catch the spurting water to wash the soiled area of their bodies.