BDSM Library - The Prosecutor

The Prosecutor

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Synopsis: An unethical female prosecutor is tortured by those she wronged, using some new technology.

The Prosecutor




"Where am I?" she screamed.  "Why am I naked?


Why can't I move?"  As the drug wore off, she


became more aware of her circumstance. Ann was


lying, naked, on her back, on a hard surface, her


arms and legs outstretched, held by some sort of


cuffs around her wrists and ankles.  It was dark.  It


was quiet.  She had no idea what time, or even what


date it was.  She had got off the cruise ship at


Cozumel, Mexico, taken the free cab three miles


into town, and shopped for unmounted gems.  One


of the salesmen, a woman,  had invited her into a


back room to see some special stones and...   Ann's


memory failed her.  The ship, it would sail without


her!  Again she shouted, "Where am I?" 




"Where do you think you are, Madame Prosecutor,


or should I say prosecutrix?"  It was a man's voice


in the darkness.




"Who are you?  Why am I here?"




"Answer the question."




"It's prosecutor."




"Your husband is the congressman from the third


district."




"Yes, so what?"




"You had thought you could use your election as


prosecutor as a springboard for a run for congress,


but your husband beat you to it.  So you stayed


home and reaped the headlines as a tough on crime


prosecutor."  Ann could not refute those statements.


She said nothing.  "Your conviction rate was


everything.  You prosecuted Henry Williams for


rape and murder, withholding evidence and


testimony which would have shown he was


innocent.  Isn't that so?  He lost his wife, his


children, his business, every penny he owned, so


you could have the satisfaction of claiming you had


sent a dangerous man to death row."  She didn't


have to answer that.  It was her secret.  "You


prosecuted Shirley Buchanan for murder, saying she


intentionally gave an dying woman an lethal


overdose of morphine.  The jury said she was not


guilty, but her marriage and her career were


ruined."  Ann was bitter that she had lost that one. 


"You extorted a guilty plea from George Harmon, a


small-time safe cracker who never dealt dope,


based on evidence you knew the police planted on


him.  You sent him to jail for something he didn't


do.  Do you ever feel remorse?"




Ann was indignant.  "I was elected to protect the


citizens of the county, and I'm not ashamed of how


I do it.  I have a 98 per cent conviction rate!"




The flash of a camera blinded her, and she blinked


as the after-image glowed red on her retina.  Then


there was another flash.  She caught a glimpse of a


man's face in the glow of the digital display of  a


camera.  Someone held the display in front of her


face.  She saw herself, looking wild eyed, her hair a


mess, her bare breasts showing.  Then someone put


a blindfold over her eyes. "Who are you?" she said


again.




"I'm Henry Williams.  The governor pardoned me,


convinced I was the victim of prosecutorial


misconduct and an incompetent defense lawyer.  I


spent 11 years, 4 months, 27 days in a cage, most of


it on death row.  I lost everything that was precious


to me.  Now, it's payback time."




"I'm Shirley, the former nurse.  I've always


wondered what it would be like to be a cosmetic


surgeon.  I'm going to practice on you."




"I'm George," said a gravelly African-American


voice.  You fucked me.  Now, I'm going to fuck


you."




"What is your husband's private e-mail address?"


asked Henry.




"I won't tell you."


"Yes, you will.  First, if you don't, all we have to do


is raise the frame you are stretched on, and your


own weight will pull your arms until they pop put


of your shoulder sockets," contributed Shirley.


"Secondly, we're going to explain to your husband


that, if he wants you back, he's going to have to buy


the diamonds you wanted, but the price has gone


up.  We'll ask for 2000 ounces of gold, untraceable


and good anywhere.  That's about a million dollars


worth.  We'd ask for more, but we happen to know


he's got the gold already.  As a congressman, he


knows the dollar will be worth much less soon, so


he's hoarding gold, planning on reaping a huge


profit.  We'll send your picture and an offer to sell


him the diamonds, by e-mail, from an Internet cafe


where the e-mail is untraceable."




"His e-mail is..." They read it back, and she


confirmed they got it right. "So, you'll let me go


soon."




"That depends on how soon he sends the gold.


Meanwhile, don't plan on getting much sleep."




Ann could see a bit of light around the edges of her


blindfold.  She felt George, 6'-3" tall  and 230


pounds, on top of her, mashing her breasts against


her chest.  He didn't kiss her or anything, just


forced his huge cock against her vulva until he got


inside her.  She screamed, as he pumped about six


strokes and ejaculated inside her.  Then he was off


her.




"You probably didn't notice, but we have a picture


of you with his big cock inside you, and the look on


your face," said Shirley.  "He's going to keep


fucking you whenever he feels like it.  With luck,


you'll have a nice black baby."  Ann was pretty sure


she couldn't get pregnant, but she didn't enjoy


getting raped by George.  "My turn, now.  Boys, if


you will put her upright...:" Ann screamed, as they


men lifted the top of the frame on which she was


stretched.  As her body came off the floor, her arms


were pulled terribly, though the pain was less when


they got her upright.  Still, she understood why


crucifixion could be so painful, even without the


nails.  This seemed worse than the Roman style, as


her legs were spread so far apart that the strain was


terrible.  Ann's vulva was now upturned, and the


sartorius muscles of her thighs ached as they were


stretched, her knees as far apart as they could go.


Someone tied ropes tightly around the base of her


breasts, so they bulged like softballs in socks.  Then


the frame tilted back a bit, so some of Ann's weight


was supported by her breasts.  "There, Ann," said


Shirley, "don't your arms feel better, when they


don't have to support so much of  your weight?"


Spring loaded nipple clamps, like the ends of


battery jumper cables, bit into her nipples, eliciting


more screams of pain.




"See how she trims her pubic hair," said Henry.


"Why so you trim it like that, Ann?  It looks like a


strip of bacon."




"You know why.  So no stray hairs show when I sun


myself or work out at the gym."




"Shirley, why don't you complete the job?"  Ann


gritted her teeth as someone, Shirley, she supposed, 


pulled tufts of pubic hair out.  It wasn't quick, like a


wax job.  It was like plucking her eyebrows, but


interminable torment, as the tension on a hair grew,


and then the sharp pain as the root tore free, and


then the next, and the next, and the next.




"That's better," said Shirley, as she plucked the fine


hairs of Ann's labia and back toward her anus.


When Shirley finally finished, George fucked Ann


with an empty beer bottle.  It wasn't any worse than


his big cock.  He pushed another into her anus,


which stretched it painfully, and moved them both.




"Let me tie them in place," said George.




"Later," said Shirley.  "I feel artistic."  With a tattoo


"gun" she marked Ann with six large letters, just


above the top of where her pubic hair would have


been, prior to the plucking.




"What did you do?  What does it say?" asked Ann.




"HIV POS."




"Jesus!  What will people say when they see it?"




"That depends, Madame Prosecutor, who you show


it to."  It was Henry, back from the Internet cafe.


"Hey, let's leave her there for a while.  I brought


some food back."




"Hey, I'm hungry too," said Ann, but no one


replied.  She hung there, her legs painfully spread,


her hairless vulva gaping, her breasts feeling as if


they might explode or pull off, her arms and


shoulders cramped.  It seemed nothing happened


for hours.  Her mouth got dry.  She tried to imagine


how Henry, George, and Shirley might have got


together and planned all this.  She couldn't.  She


couldn't think straight.  The pain, her stretched tits,


her stretched muscles, plus the fear that things


could get worse, it all overwhelmed her with stress. 


 


After a while, Shirley came back and put stronger


clamps on Ann's nipples, which made Ann plead


for mercy.  "We girls know how to hurt each other,


don't we?" said Shirley.  "You have it coming too


you, you depraved bitch."  Then Shirley worked for


some time, tattooing Ann's back, a few inches


above her waist.




When Shirley was done, Ann asked what that said.


"Please fuck my ass, but, for your own safety,


please use a condom."




"God!  I'll have to dress like a nun.  I'll have to buy


one-piece bathing suits.  Wait! What are you doing


to my arms?"




"I'm injecting an irritant, so it looks like needle


tracks, evidence of intravenous drug abuse."




"But I'm innocent!  I've never used drugs."




"Annie, you bitch, you ain't seen nothing yet.  I'm


going to make your life miserable.  We'll save some


for later.  George wants to fuck your ass."




Ann felt them unbinding her tits and nips.  "Ahhh,"


she exclaimed, as the blood flow was restored.


They released her ankles, so she could stand on tip


toe, and then her wrists.  What a relief it was to


lower her arms.  But that relief was short lived.


They bent her double over some sort of horizontal


support, the back of a chair or something, and


secured her ankles, spread about three feet apart,


and her wrists, low down, so her head hung down


and her weight was uncomfortably born by the bar


across her belly.  George did his thing with the beer


bottle in her ass, until she was well stretched, and


then he plunged his cock into her bumhole,


pounding her ass, until he unloaded inside her. 




Ann felt a cold speculum being pushed into her


vagina and then expanded to stretch it more than


George's cock did.  Shirley worked for some time


poking at Ann's cervix, stretching it with tapered


probes to dilate the opening.  Ann protested that it


hurt, but Shirley told her she could bear the pain,


saying it as if she were a mother talking to her


child.  Ann could feel something being pushed into


her.  "What are you doing to me?"




"Ann, I've got some good news and some bad


news."  She showed Ann a metal cylinder with


rounded ends, about a centimeter in diameter and


six long.  "The good news is that you now have an


intra-uterine device, an IUD, and George can't


make you pregnant.  For that matter, neither can the


congressman, though at your age you shouldn't be


getting pregnant, anyway.  There's too much chance


of  a defective child.  The bad news is that the IUD


is a cow magnet.  Farmers feed them to cows so that


nails  and bits of wire will stick to the magnet and


not puncture the cow's stomach.  In your case, you


will set off a metal detector about ten feet away.  If


you ever try to fly, can you imagine the strip search


those Transportation Security cops will do on you?


For that matter, with courthouses all equipped with


metal detectors now, you may want to give up being


a lawyer."  Shirley laughed for half a minute before


she got serious again and removed the vaginal


speculum.  "Now, bitch, some breast implants."




Ann's breasts were hanging down like socks with


baseballs in them.  She winced as Shirley made an


incision at the base of the right one and forced in


another cow magnet; the pain wasn't as bad as


some she had felt.  Then Shirley poked her several


places with a huge needle, like a very sharp knitting


needle, and while Ann couldn't see what was


happening, she could feel that each poke injected


something into her breasts.  It felt as if a huge eagle


was tearing her breast tissue with its talons. She felt


a stinging sensation as Shirley wiped the wounds


with alcohol and put "Superglue" on them, in lieu


of stitches.  She did the same things to Ann's left


breast.  They felt so full and heavy!




Then Ann felt the huge needle slipping into the


walls of her vagina, several times, both sides.  After


that, the needle was forced the length of one of her


labia majora, which had never been very major, as


they were flat and did not hide the inner labia.  As


the needle was slowly withdrawn, her lip was filled


with something that inflated it, made it big and


puffy.  Again, there was an injection, the same on


the second lip.   When Shirley seemed finished,


Ann said, "What did you do to me?"




"Ann, I wish you could see yourself," said Shirley,


cheerfully.  "You look so much better.  Your


breasts have got to be double-Ds now, and they look


so round and full.  I'll bet they feel a bit heavy,


though, hanging down like that, don't they?"




"Yes."




"Well, you see, I didn't use saline or silicone.  Each


tit has a cow magnet, and then I injected about two


pounds of copper plated steel shot.  With hundreds


of pieces of steel dispersed through your breast


tissue, there's no way they can be surgically


removed, short of a total mastectomy.   Don't try


swimming without a floatation device.  I injected


steel shot into your labia, too.  They look so sexy,


now, the bee-stung lips look, real camel toes.  And


there are some wires under the membranes of your


vagina.  It's the old metal detector trick again.  And


if they x-ray you, you'll look as if you are wired for


electrical detonation.  Try to convince them you are


not a terrorist.  Does your cunt still hurt?"




"Yes, some."




"I'll take care of that.  You won't feel a thing."  She


injected Ann in several places, all over her vulva


and perineum, and while the needles stung at first,


especially the needle in her clitoris, the whole area


became numb.  Ann told herself that it might not be


so bad.  George's  rapes wouldn't  be so painful.


Shirley even injected around Ann's anus, which


went numb.  "There, Ann, your anus is relaxed,


now, and George can fuck your ass so much easier,


now.  Bad news, though, it's so relaxed you might


want to wear a diaper."




"My God!  What have you done?"




"Well, the FDA hasn't approved it as a nerve block,


but it works very well.  It's like Botox, but more


permanent.  Henry wants me to inject your larynx,


your voice box, so you can't  bear false witness


again in court, but I said that wouldn't be necessary,


if they won't let you into the courtroom.  But look


at the good side; you will never experience painful


sex again.  Well, that about does it for now.  See if


you can get some sleep."




"No!  You have robbed me of my sex."




"Ann," said Shirley, "You robbed Henry of his


sex."




"Well, that's only justice.  Murderers aren't


supposed to have conjugal visits in prison."




"And his innocent wife?  Adultery is a sin, and the


priest told her that if she divorced Henry and


remarried, she'd burn in hell forever.  Now, you'll


enjoy sex as much as she did, before she died.


Think about it."




Hours passed slowly, and Ann could get no sleep,


doubled up over the bar with her breasts still


hurting.




She heard movement, as if it was morning, though


she was still blindfolded and couldn't see.  It was


hot and humid, even at night, and she had been


sweating a lot.  "Please, I'm very thirsty.  Could I


have some water, please?"




"Water?  If I give you the local water, you'll


probably get the run-runs, Montezuma's revenge.


You'd better have beer.  George, would you give


Ann some beer, please?"




Ann felt the bottle being forced into her anus, but it


didn't hurt, and there was no resistance by her anal


muscles.  George pushed the bottle almost all the


way in, and Ann could feel the cold beer filling her


rectum, being forced out of the bottle by the


bubbles of gas released as the beer warmed up.


"That will hydrate you a bit, and the alcohol will


convince the police you've been drinking," added


Shirley.




"Police?"




"Well, we didn't plan to take you to Washington


ourselves.  When we get the gold, we can drop you


off near a police station, and they can decide what


to do with you.  You might spend a few days in a


Mexican jail, before your husband can come and


get you, but I'm sure, with a bribe here and there,


he'll get you home.  Look at the good side.  When


the police rape you, you won't feel it much."




"You are evil!"




"I suppose we are."  It was Henry.  "George went to


read the e-mail, and he brought back this reply from


your husband.  Let me read it to you, Ann.  'I'll


keep the gold, and you keep the diamonds.  I


wouldn't pay a cent to get my wife back; she's a


frigid bitch, and there are so many hot cunts here in


Washington that I have no need for her.  I might


even get some good media attention and a few


sympathy votes, if my wife disappears in Mexico.


So, keep her, please.'  What do you think, Ann?


How are we going to get the money we need to start


new lives in South America?  We can't just drop


you off at a police station."  Then he said, "Shirley,


we'll have to keep her a while, and I suppose she


won't keep well in that position.  Hadn't we better


put her in the cage?"




Ann felt the bottle being removed from her rectum.


Most of the beer had been absorbed by her body.


Her feet and hands were untied, but she was so sore


and groggy that she couldn't stand or resist when


her captors stuffed her, still blindfolded,  into a box


about four feet on a side.  The floor and door were


bars.  She could sit, but not lie down, and the


concentrated pressure of the bars on her bottom cut


off the local blood supply, which meant that she


had to keep moving from time to time.  Her hands


were free, so she felt her enlarged breasts.  They


were heavy on her chest, but they seemed to be


nicely shaped.  They might even be an asset.  She


reached between her legs and felt her swollen labia.


They were numb, but she supposed men might find


them attractive.  She felt for her clit.  Her fingers


could feel it, but her clitoris did not feel her fingers.


Bummer.  She tried to sleep, but she couldn't, could


only drift into a kind of half sleep, a delirium,


before she had to move her painfully bruised butt,


bruised by the bars of the floor.  At one point she


heard Henry: "Think of it as death row.  You owe


me 11 years."  She was hot, and still thirsty, and


there was no way she could get comfortable.  As the


horror of her situation, the fact that her husband


wouldn't rescue her, gnawed at her mind, she tried


to imagine what she would do to him if he were in


the cage.  How many pounds of steel shot could she


force into his scrotum?  Time dragged.




At last, the cage was lifted and placed in  a truck.  It


drove for miles and miles, over flat but bumpy dirt


roads.  Well, she wasn't on the island of Cozumel.


They must be on the mainland, which is mostly flat,


very sparsely inhabited jungle, hot, humid, full of


insects and disease.  From exhaustion, thirst, and


lack of sleep, she wasn't able to pay attention, to try


to find clues as to her location.




The cage was lifted off the truck and carried into a


building.  Her thinking sharpened.  She was naked,


without any identification or money, and she didn't


speak Spanish.  What should she do or say when


she was released from the cage.  Henry said, "OK,


Ann, you're in luck.  We'll let you out of your cage,


and these people will take care of you, feed you and


give you a bed to sleep in, if you behave yourself."




"Am I at a police station?"




"No, no.  A brothel."




 

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