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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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