****** The Prosecutor ******
                           Provided By: BDSM_Library
                              www.bdsmlibrary.com



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."



 
Review_This_Story || Email Author: Abe


****** MORE_BDSM_STORIES_@_SEX_STORIES_POST ******