Case #802120 - Part 11

The Judas Kiss

Jack came down to my cell with my lunch tray as usual and had me kneel in the slave position on the floor before he'd open the cell door. I obediently got down on my knees and placed my hands behind my back. He unlocked the steel grill, walked past me and placed the tray down on table behind me.

"Are you ready for another slave lesson, Ingrid?" Jack asked, returning to stand in front of me.

"Yes," I responded nervously. I was fairly sure it had been Jack listening in on my phone call but I wasn't sure whether he was now going to foil the plan and punish me for it.

"You visitor has arrived, Ingrid," Jack said, confirming the first of my fears.

"Oh?" I tried to make a non-committed sort of reply.

"You know I could lose my job if The National Confessor published any photos secretly taken in here?"

"No..." I mumbled and started to feel very nervous. His tone didn't indicate whether he was upset with me or not.

"Well, I could."

There was a long silence.

"I didn't know that," I said by way of apology.

"It's OK Ingrid. You weren't to know. But he's a lawyer and should know better. Shouldn't he?"

"Yes," I answered but still wasn't clear about his intentions. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I like you, Ingrid. You're very sweet and don't belong in this place," Jack smiled warmly.

I smiled faintly back at him.

"Obviously, if your attorney doesn't have anything to sell to the Confessor, your friend isn't going to get his money and you're going to be stuck in here and, likely, sent to --"

"Yes. You don't have to remind me."

"But he can't just waltz into here with a camera and take photos of you, can he?"

"No," I had to agree.

"But, there is a way..."

"There is?" I looked hopeful eyes up at him.

"Yes, but you have to do exactly what I say. Agreed?"

"Yes, Jack. Anything you say."

"Good girl. Now listen carefully. All of the cells, including this one, are monitored on closed circuit TV. See that mirror on your wall? There's a camera behind it and it's constantly recording you."

Thoughts of "Big Brother" flashed through my mind. Jack continued.

"Let's say the janitor was to come into your cell, tie you up, and have sex with you..."

I listened but already I didn't like the sound of his plan.

"He'd be filmed doing it, right?" he said it as a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, but --"

"You haven't heard me out. When your lawyer and I come down to your cell, we catch the guy and I can pretend to apprehend him in the act."

"And I can have him charged with rape!"

"Um, no. Unfortunately for you, because you are already a person of limited rights, you can't bring charges against anybody. But your lawyer is still entitled to try and because of this he'll be granted a court order to subpoena the video evidence. Once he has it, the only thing stopping him from doing whatever he wants with it is his integrity and, if he's prepared to secretly bring a camera in here..."

Jack didn't have to finish for me to get the idea. "What will happen to the janitor?" I asked, feeling a small twinge of concern for the hapless fall guy.

"There'll be an internal enquiry, but ultimately? The department will forget about janitor and try and shift the blame onto the lawyer for leaking the tape to the media. There'll be a lot of posturing between the department and the legal fraternity, but it will eventually come to a stalemate and everybody will forget it ever happened." Jack laughed wryly.

Except for the unpleasant thought of the janitor part, the plan gave me a good feeling.

"OK. Let's do this," Jack said. "Are you ready?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes, I think so."

"Good. Now, in order to make this all look as realistic as possible, I want you to lie on your bed and pretend you're asleep. When the janitor comes in, keep pretending, OK? You can pretend to stir in your sleep, but don't open your eyes or resist in any way.

I nodded slowly at each step of his plan.

"Good. Go lie on your bed. I'll tell him to tie you spread-eagled on your back, so lie on your back."

I rested my head back on the soft pillow.

"Remember, do not resist in any way when he starts tying you. Let him tie both your ankles first and wait until he starts binding your wrists before you wake up and start struggling. OK? Maybe if you lie with your hands up near your head, it will make it easier for him to get at them without having to struggle too roughly with you. We don't want him to hurt you, do we?"

"No," I shook head slowly from side to side.

"Good. Well, I think we're ready. Just relax and remember, -- "

"Yes, I know. I'm asleep," I said and closed my eyes.

"I'll probably be five or ten minutes explaining it to the janitor, so you just relax and pretend to be sleeping, Ingrid."

"OK," I replied.

My heart was pounding nervously in my chest. I listened to Jack's footsteps disappear from my cell and up the concrete stairwell just outside it.

He was gone more than a few minutes when I started to feel almost comfortable and genuinely sleepy. I let my head loll from one side to the other, but kept my eyes closed, sighing occasionally -- practicing the sounds I might make if I really was asleep and dreaming pleasant dreams. I almost opened them again when I heard the familiar rattle and clang of the cleaner's trolley down the corridor and heading my way. It's noise grew so loud I almost felt compelled to open my eyes and look, but I kept to the plan.

It occurred to me that the cleaner quite probably wasn't particularly intelligent, and this began to worry me. The noise grew louder until it finally sounded like it was right outside my cell door. I pretended to stir just a little bit -- enough to turn my face away from the noise. The noise stopped.

My heart pounded heavily in my chest. I concentrated, listening for the tiniest sound, but didn't hear a thing. Nothing. Then, ever so lightly, something brushed over the instep of my right foot -- a rope with a loop tied at its end. I held my breath when fingers lightly gripped by big toe and gently lifted my foot from the mattress so the loop would be around my ankle. My foot was then carefully lowered back onto the mattress and another looped rope dropped onto my other foot. It too was gently lifted by its big toe and then returned to the mattress once the rope was in place.

The pressure of the ropes tightening around my ankles was barely discernable at first and I imagined if I had been genuinely asleep, I probably wouldn't have noticed anything at all yet. Gradually, the tension increased and pulled outwards on my ankles. I pretended to stir, just slightly and pointed my toes slightly as my heels dragged slowly across the surface of my mattress. It occurred to me that the ropes on both ankles seemed to be pulling at the same time, but I kept to the plan and remained convincingly asleep.

My legs soon were spread in a position that no longer felt natural and I expected them to be tethered in that position, but still the ropes pulled. I moaned softly in my pretend sleep as a signal to the janitor that he should stop there and turn his attention to my wrists. When the ropes continued to stretch me, I wriggled my feet a bit, thinking that might get his attention without breaking my sleeping pose. My feet were spread a certain distance apart and then I felt the cold smooth tubular steel of the bed-end touch my toes. I discreetly flapped my feet and wriggled a little bit on the bed, pretending to almost woken. My hands at the side of my head balled into small fists when the ropes jerked and tugged, forcing my feet out past the cold posts at the foot of the bed. I squirmed a little, being careful not to overdo it but enough to inch my body down the bed. The insides of my ankles came to rest against the outsides of the bed posts and then the tugging on the ropes stopped.

My fake slumber instantly ended when a sharp jolt of the ropes around my wrists pulled my arms to the top corners of the bed. I opened my eyes to see a tall, solidly built man with gingery colored hair and dirty, freckled face grinning down at me. He had the ends of both ropes held tightly in his hands and he leaned over me to tie them off to the metal bedposts above my head. I arched my back off the bed and struggled frantically. He stood in my line of sight so I couldn't see the mirror. I prayed the camera could see how much I was resisting. I might have screamed as well, but just as I was about to, the janitor clamped a piece of duck tape over my mouth. My eyes bulged as my screams of panic, not being able to escape through my mouth, welled up in my head. A second piece of tape pressed over my eyes, increased my terror tenfold and dread and left the image of the man, dressed in his dirt stained red flannel shirt and jeans etched in my mind's eye.

I continued to twist and squirm as I heard the sound of his clothing being hastily removed. A moment later and I felt his weight move onto the bed between my spread legs. He dragged himself up onto me -- the sensations of his hairy body on the smooth skin of the insides of my thighs strangely arousing, but not enough to diminish my panic. He wasted no time positioning his cock up at the entrance of my defenseless pussy, or driving it deep into me. My pussy had moistened slightly while he had been tying me, but it wasn't quiet enough to make his penetration easy.

His breath smelled of cigarettes and alcohol when he slobbered wet kisses over my face and neck. My pussy continued to be pounded roughly and juices slowly started to flow making his cock now glide with a slipperiness he sounded like he enjoyed. He thrashed around on top of me, driving his cock hard into me. His hands slid up the insides of my arms and grabbed my wrists just beneath the place where he'd tied them. The bed squeaked loudly with every bounce of his body -- a squeak that resounded through the corridors outside of the cell.

The sensations of his tongue on the side of my neck repulsed me. He licked around like a dog, concentrating on a section of skin just below my left ear. And then, his open mouth clamped onto the spot and started sucking.

"Oh my god!" a voice screamed out in my head. "He's giving me a disgusting love bite!"

I could feel the spot burning as he slurped and sucked noisily. Flashbacks to childhood and the repulsion I felt when somebody first explained what love bites were. "Only a cheap slut would let anybody give her a love-bite," I was told. It would become a mark that people would see for days, if not weeks after this ordeal was over.

When the man's cock finally erupted in my pussy, it was accompanied by grunts and curses. The whole weight of his heavy body rose and fell on me and knocked the wind out of my stomach. Tears burned my eyes under the tape -- another kind of hotness filled the inside of my pussy and soon leaked out to dribble down between my ass cheeks. The jerked motions of his hips became less rhythmic and frequent. Finally, to my everlasting relief, his weight lifted from my body and it was over.

I lay there motionless for a long while and tried to regain some kind of normal breathing pattern through my nostrils. The cum that had flooded my pussy slowly seeped out and made me feel terrible and clammy between my legs. The ropes around my wrists and ankles remained tight. There was no sound of the man nor, I suddenly realized, anybody else coming to my rescue. I tried to call Jack's name, but it was mumbled behind the tape gag.

It must have been twenty or more minutes before I heard the sound of anybody. Footsteps -- more than one pair -- echoed in the concrete stairwell. They didn't sound like they were in any kind of a hurry, and seemed to take an eternity before they finally reached my cell door. I craned my head up off the pillow and looked in the direction of the sound as I screamed my muffled screams for help.

"What the fuck!" My attorney's voice bounced off the walls around me.

I continued to struggle and whimper my relief. Footsteps now rushed to my bedside. I wailed a muffled wail as the tape across my eyes was suddenly ripped off. My eyes blinked several times to focus in the harsh light of my cell and then went wide as saucers. It was my attorney who had ripped off the tape, but the guard with him wasn't Jack. The tape from my mouth was torn free.

"What the hell is going on here?" the guard barked the question at me.

"I ... I ... somebody raped me!"

"Who?" my attorney sounded very concerned.

"I ... don't ... um, didn't you see him?" I stammered.

"Who? See who?" the two men asked in unison.

"The janitor!"

"Who?" The guard asked.

"The janitor!" I repeated, this time more insistently.

"There's no janitor working this building today," the guard said. He gave my attorney a curious look.

"But there has to be! He raped me!" I felt my head swimming with dizzy confusion.

"Look, if my client says she was raped, then this has to be treated as a crime scene," my attorney said firmly.

"Sure, but I'm telling you, there is no cleaner rostered to work this building today!" the guard grumbled. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Call the police, dammit!" my attorney was almost yelling at the guard.

"Shit. You mean I have to back up them stairs and --"

"Yes. Now. There's cum here between her legs -- evidence. Now go!" my attorney's face reddened and his words were punctuated with his spittle.

The guard rolled his eyes and then trudged out of the cell. My attorney waited until footsteps were heard again in the stairwell before he turned to me.

"This is great, Ingrid!" he said. His face was suddenly beaming.

"What?"

"Damn! I mean, this is way better than I was expecting! Let's get that tape back on you," he said.

"No!" I needed to find out what happened to Jack, but it was too late. Again, I felt trapped and powerless behind the gag and blindfold and heard the sound of his camera moving all around me.

"Is that real cum?" the attorney's fingers suddenly dipped into my pussy.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!" I nodded furiously.

"And you were raped?" he asked.

Again I nodded and tried to scream the word "yes".

"Wow," he said, sounding slightly disbelieving. "Really?"

I detected a light laugh in his voice. My head fell back on the pillow and I groaned loudly. How much more of this humiliation did I have to take?

The sounds of footsteps coming down the stairwell again seemed to distract him.

"Ow!" I wailed when the gag was removed again.

"Where's Jack?" was the first thing I asked.

"Who?" My attorney replied.

"Jack. He set this up."

"He did? Why?"

"He overheard Nelson's plan -- about the secret pictures!" I said, starting to talk in a sing-song voice like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He said he set it up with you --"

"He did no such fucken thing!" my attorney said.

His face scowled in a way that made me think his head might suddenly explode.

"That cunt! That sneaky, fucken cunt!"

I watched my attorney scramble to put away his camera as he rushed to the cell door. He almost knocked flat the new guard.

"Where are you going?" the guard asked as my attorney ran past.

"Cancel the cops. The bitch bullshitted us!"

"Wait! It wasn't my fault!" I wailed out after him. "What about me?"

"Fuck you!" came back the explosive reply. "Get yourself another fucken attorney!"

His final words were left bouncing in the stairwell as his footsteps, sounding like the clickerty-clack of a locomotive on a railway track as he rushed away.

"Lawyers! Hah! Ass-holes!" The guard shook his head and was still shaking it to himself as he untied me.

"Where's Jack?" I asked, hoping to get a straight answer from somebody.

"Old Jack? It was his last day today. He's now officially retired. Lucky bastard!" the guard said cheerily.

My head crashed back with a soft thud in my pillow. I rolled my head to the side and looked across at the mirror on the wall.

"There's no hidden camera behind that mirror, is there?" I asked. Surely, I couldn't be this unlucky!

The guard glanced over his shoulder at it. "That mirror?"

"Would you like me to have one installed for you?" he laughed. It was just a little chuckle at first, which grew into a very loud laugh that shook his large gut.

"Great!" I mumbled under my breath and then silently waited to be released completely.