D.O. Wilson Ch. 03: The Prostitutes

Or suffer public degradation and a beating from a stranger.

I couldn't hold back my tears anymore, pain and shame crashing over me as Wilson reached number thirty and didn't stop, his monotone counting in contrast with my sobs. My ass burned with crisscrossing welts, every lash adding to the flames, until he reached number fifty and let the belt fall. I sagged, crying piteously, heart pounding, sweaty and sore.

"The accused will now be penetrated anally," declared the judge.

Wilson moved up close behind me and whispered in my ear. "Was that the truth?"

"What?"

"That you've never been anally penetrated?"

"Yes, it's the truth!" Indignation and terror warred within me, and what I'd intended to sound confident instead came out as a whine. "Are you really going to use something so big?" I wheezed, remembering the dimensions they'd described.

He put a hand on my shoulder in an soothing gesture, then left my side. He came back with another glass object similar to the one he'd used before, but this was smaller and tapered. "I'll use a smaller dildo, but this will still hurt," he said. "It's best if you try to relax and accept it."

At least it wasn't two inches wide. But relax? Trussed up naked and on display, with something about to be forced into my asshole? Not likely.

I peeked over my left shoulder to see that the screen showed that same upward shot of my private parts. Wilson's hand came into view, rubbing something on the—dildo, had he called it? He separated my cheeks with one hand, revealing my anus to the onlookers. I wanted to close my eyes, but it was almost surreal, watching what Wilson was doing, almost as if he was doing it to someone else.

Except I could feel everything. The tapered end of the dildo touched my anus, and I tensed. Wilson pushed it in, opening the hole bit by bit. With his other hand, he began rubbing my clit with two fingers, unexpected after all the pain he'd caused me. His patience was rewarded as the motion began to have an effect, a pleasant bubble of arousal, faint but honest, brewing in my belly. Still rubbing, he pushed the dildo in farther, stretching the opening, sliding deeper. A burning pain overtook arousal, and I trembled from head to toe as he completed the penetration, the full length of the dildo lodged inside me with just the handle protruding. I whimpered, suppressing a desire to scream, and squirmed as much as the restraints would allow, desperate to dislodge the uncomfortable device. It stayed put.

Wilson left it there and continued his attention to my clit with the same patience he had displayed during the rest of this punishment. The pain in my anus faded, and Wilson's fingers became my focus yet again, gentle circles, unrelenting. His other hand slithered up my front to fondle my breast, pinching my nipple just hard enough to be noticeable without causing pain.

"What are you doing?" I choked out, unwilling to admit just how good that was starting to feel. I would not let him get to me!

"Give them a nice orgasm, and I'll let you go sit down," he said in a low voice.

"And if I don't?"

"You will." His fingers moved faster. "Close your eyes."

I did, somewhat unwillingly, and tried to forget about my audience and my strange predicament. This was almost over. Almost over.

To my horror, the dildo in my ass had ceased to be painful and now added bursts of pleasure as I clenched around it. Grace was right; it did feel good. I only wished I had learned that under more pleasant conditions.

D.O. Wilson rubbed harder and faster, and I realized I was moaning, my breath coming in short gasps. Orgasm, and this is over. I threw my head back and leaned into Wilson's hand. I heard a soft chuckle, and then quiet chanting from the assembled crowd, "Cum, cum, cum." As my moans increased, so did their cheers, which was distracting enough to nearly kill any hope of getting all the way there.

Wilson took hold of the dildo handle and began fucking me with it in slow, gentle strokes, and I couldn't resist any longer. I cried out, my thighs quivering, stomach tight, held my breath for a long moment, and let the orgasm wash over me. I went limp, supported by the cuffs around my wrists, breathing hard.

"The accused will be seated," called the judge.

Over. For now.

Wilson released me from the restraints, and my two guards escorted me, still quite naked, to a third seat in the middle of the front row, next to Grace. They chained my wrists to the arm rests.

"Don't I get clothes?" I asked.

"No," was the curt reply.

Grace leaned over to say something to me, but the guards unchained her and wrested her to her feet before she could.

"Your turn," one of them said. She was already trembling, pale and terrified. The guards led her to the stage, where D.O. Wilson took hold of her upper arm.

Grace was accused of the same offenses as I was. They read the statute again, as if anyone had forgotten what it said, and the judge declared that since she was not the instigator, her sentence would be less severe than mine, just fifteen with the belt for fornication and thirty for the prostitution. She'd get the same vaginal and anal penetration, though. She collapsed as the judge pronounced her punishment.

I exchanged glances with Shelly, who was too far away to talk to. She glared at me, as if this was entirely my fault, and then turned her attention back to Grace, who had been relieved of her clothing and tied to the post as I had been.

I watched in fascination, despite my misgivings, as the belt landed. I flinched at the sharp slapping sound, my own treatment still very fresh in my mind. Grace handled the lashing stoically, better than I had, despite her fear. Her ass had red marks where the belt had struck, and Wilson ran his hands over them before going off to get the dildo for her vaginal penetration.

Shelly squeaked loud enough for me to hear as Wilson shoved the dildo into Grace's vagina. Grace cried out, rattling the chains. My own shame reignited as I realized just how obscene the view was on the screen, how everyone had seen the glass rod sliding in and out, the hole stretching open around it.

Then it was back to the belt. By the end of thirty lashes, Grace was sobbing, and when Wilson brought out the large glass dildo he intended to put in her anus, I couldn't help but be relieved he had gone a little easier on me. She wailed as he inserted it, her body going rigid as she was forced to accept the largest item allowed by the statute. Wilson began rubbing her clit as her screams died down, and the sight of that glass handle protruding from between her buttocks was possibly more indecent than the one in her vagina had been. I couldn't tear my eyes away, despite myself.

I couldn't quite believe it when Grace, too, had an orgasm right there in front of everyone, and when the guards brought her back to her seat, she collapsed into it with her face in her hands, until they chained her arms down. She wouldn't look at me. I wanted to commiserate, comfort, but she kept her eyes closed and her head down.

Shelly protested when they dragged her up to the stage, insisting that whatever she had done, it wasn't nearly as bad as what Grace and I had been accused of. Nobody bought it, of course, and in due time she, too, was naked and bound to the whipping post. Her sentence was the same as Grace's.

When it was finally over, Wilson accompanied the guards and Shelly back over to me and Grace. Each took one of us by the arm and marched us, stark naked, out of the courtroom and back to our cells.

Wilson entered my cell and looked me up and down. "You did well," he said. "I'll take three of you to the Home when I'm finished with a few other women in need of my firm hand. In the meantime, you'll have a meal and can rest for a bit." He opened the cell door.

"Wait. Is the Home really like they say?"

"What do they say?"

"That men pay to go there and do whatever they want to you?"

"Yes, that's true. But it shouldn't bother you, should it, given that you've already engaged in exactly such practices?"

"It's not the same," I insisted.

He nodded. "I'm well aware. I assume after all of this is over with, you won't have any desire to take off your clothes for anyone until your wedding night."

"Who would marry me now?" I grumbled. "After seeing me like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Who, indeed? Maybe you should have thought of that before you defiled yourself. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

I sat on the bed, pouting. "Defiled myself. Fuck you," I whispered.

****

The Home for Female Rehabilitation looked less like a house and more like a small prison, at least on the outside. As well it should, since that's what it was. I steered my truck through the gates, which closed with a clang I could hear even with my windows closed. I parked and hopped out of the cab to open the trailer, where my three charges had been ensconced, still naked, for the ride to the Home. I was privately impressed with how well each had taken her punishment. I looked forward to an opportunity to fuck them myself. I'd make sure to have a turn when I came to pick them up in four weeks.

Grace was dozing, stretched out on the rug in the middle of the trailer on her stomach. Most of the redness from the lashing had faded, but a few welts and bruises had formed, and I took a moment to admire my work. Johanna was huddled in the corner with her knees drawn up. I questioned whether I should have shown her mercy with the anal dildo, but kindness was always better than cruelty, in my opinion. The judge had had a few words for me, but he trusted my judgement in the end. As for Shelly, she needed an attitude adjustment, and I knew Mistress Colby was just the person to give her one, here at the Home.

"Come on," I said, rousting them from their private thoughts. Grace sat up, startled, as if she'd forgotten where she was. Maybe she had. "We're here," I added. They hesitated at the door, peering out into the darkness. "Let's go."

"What about clothes?" Johanna ventured.

"You'll get some inside," I assured her. The naked walk in was part of the process, of course. They needed to feel their shame to their bones.

They shuffled along with me to the front door, where Mistress Colby, always perfectly coiffed no matter what time I showed up, greeted us. I introduced the girls and bid them farewell. Grace actually reached out to me as I turned away. I paused.

"Wait! Please!" Grace cried.

"Four weeks," I said kindly. "You'll be fine."

"Come, girls. Welcome to the Home," Mistress Colby said, taking Johanna and Shelly each by an elbow and herding Grace forward with the power of her presence. They disappeared into the foreboding edifice. I knew the interior was far more comfortable than the outside suggested, though their accommodations would be spare at best.

When the door closed behind them, I climbed back into my truck and radioed ahead to the Town Manager of District 5 that I was on my way.