Kristen & the Moot Court

by Zack

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© Copyright 2002 - Zack - Used by permission

Storycodes: bondage; reluct; XX

(story continues from )

Kristen's Story
Kristen and the Moot Court
by Zack
Copyright©  2002.   All rights reserved.

Part Two 

Marlow pulled me to my feet and then pushed me down into the chair with my arms over the back.  He took out handcuffs and closed one cuff through the padlock fastening my wrists together and pulled down on my arms until he could fasten the other cuff to a chair rung.  I grunted as the top of the chair dug into my armpits.  There was a leather strap attached to the chair seat and he buckled it around my hips.  During all of this activity the chair hadn't moved; it was bolted to the floor. 

Marlow unbuttoned my shoulder straps and peeled down the top of my dress, and my bare breasts appeared in all their B-cup glory.  He gently massaged them, and when the nipples were erect he took one in each hand and pinched, hard. 

I yelped, and he threatened, "That's just a start, bitch.  Tell me where you hid the money."  He produced a length of clear plastic tubing, about a half-inch in diameter. 

I shook my head and begged, "Please don't hurt me.  I don't have the money." 

He swung the tubing and it hit my left breast, where it created a red line and incredible pain.  I screamed as loudly as I could.  Marlow got this funny smile on his face and hit me again.  I rewarded him with another scream and he struck harder.  I screamed again and he went into a frenzy, hitting both my breasts with forehand and backhand blows.  I screamed continuously, and I lost touch with everything around me except for the blazing fire on my chest.  I would have gladly told him where the money was even if it meant being on the chain gang forever, but he never paused long enough to let me talk. 

Finally the blows stopped, and the pain receded enough to let me see Drew forcing Marlow away from me. 

She shouted, "Stop! You'll kill her!" 

Marlow tried to shove her out of the way, but she held on and said, "Get control of yourself!  If you kill her you'll go to jail; you're not a real cop." 

She examined my breasts, which were covered with red lines that shaded to purple on one end.  She accused, "Phil, you told me that a beating with a hose didn't leave any marks, but look at her!  You also told me it would only sting a little, but she sure screamed like it hurt a lot." 

"Well, I couldn't know what would happen.  It's your fault for not letting me try it on you first like I wanted to." 

"Don't blame me, you're the one who beat her.  Get her out of the chair while I page Joan." 

Marlow removed the handcuffs and tried to help me stand up, but I remained slumped in the chair.  I moaned and cried, and did everything I could to make him believe that I was more seriously injured than I was, although I hurt so much I didn't have to do much pretending.  When he pulled on the top of my dress I screamed, and he jumped back. 

Drew said, "You're hurting her!  Get back!  I'll fix her dress." 

She gently pulled up the top of my dress and buttoned the shoulder straps, and then helped me stand up.  Joan opened the door and asked, "You finished in here?" 

Drew answered, "Yes, you can take her back to her cell." 

"Why's she crying like that?" 

Marlow answered, "She's very sensitive, and I shouted at her.  Get her out of here." 

Joan led me back to my cell.  When she removed the padlock holding my wrists together my arms fell to my sides and I gasped as the dress rubbed my breasts. 

Joan ordered, "Take off the dress." 

I unbuttoned the shoulder straps and eased the top down over my ravaged breasts and let the dress fall to the floor.  Joan saw the welts and exclaimed, "Who did that?  Was it that prick Marlow?" 

I nodded, and she said, "It's a bit early, but you can start your rest period now.  I'll be right back." 

Joan removed the chain connecting my ankles and reattached the chain from the eyebolt to my right ankle.  She picked up the dress and hurried out of the cell block, locking all the doors behind her.  I got the blanket and wrapped it around me, and then sat with my back against the concrete wall.  I closed my eyes and tried to imagine this was all a bad dream. 

A few minutes later Joan returned with Jesse, who carried a digital camera.  Jesse entered my cell and commanded, "Open the blanket.  I want to get a picture of your breasts." 

I did as she ordered and she took a photograph.  I asked, "What's that for?  The Psychology Department website?" 

"No, that's going into Marlow's file.  This should get him expelled and blacklisted so he'll never be able to get a job as a cop." 

"You mean he departed from the approved lesson plan?" 

"Big time.  No police chief in his right mind would want somebody that unstable on his force, and part of the Psychology Department's job is to weed out the psychos.  Did Drew hit you too?" 

"No, and she stopped Marlow.  Is she going to get in trouble?" 

"It depends on whether or not she reports the beating."  Jesse left the cell block with the camera. 

Joan got a bottle from the cabinet and rubbed lotion on my breasts.  She asked, "Does that feel better?" 

It did, for several reasons.  I nodded, and Joan said, "I'd like to do more, but I have to go now." 

She left my cell and stopped by Lizzie's cell door and gave her a padlock.  She said, "When the rest period is over lock Bonnie's hands behind her back." 

All too soon a buzzer sounded and Lizzie said, "The rest period is over, Bonnie.  Move over here next to my cell." 

"I don't want to." 

"Do you want to spend the next four hours hanging upside down?  Jesse did that to me when I stretched a rest period, and I know you won't like it." 

It didn't sound like fun to me either, so I got up and went to the fencing that separated our cells. 

"Turn around a put your hands against the fence so I can get this lock through the rings on the cuffs." 

I could feel her fumbling with the D-rings, and then there was a click.  She said, "Oops." 

I asked, "What's oops?" 

"I'm sorry, Bonnie, but I accidentally locked your wrists to the fence." 

So she had, as I found out when I tried to turn around, with no success.   I was prepared to spend the next four hours leaning against the fence, but it wasn't too long before the door to the cell block opened and Joan entered. 

She said, "My, my, Kristen.  You do manage to get into some interesting predicaments, don't you?" 

"It's not my fault.  Can you get me away from this fence?" 

"Of course.  I realize it would be very dull for you to just stand there, and a waste when there are so many more interesting things to do." 

I shivered when I heard this, and not just because I was cold.  I shivered again when Joan entered my cell and I saw she was carrying a coil of white cotton rope.  She unlocked the padlock and I enjoyed the moment of freedom, brief as I expected it would be. 

Joan said, "These bracelets are useful, but they are so sterile and impersonal compared to the more intimate effect of rope.  Rope also lets one be much more creative."  She thought a moment and then said, "Turn around and put your left hand behind you." 

I didn't bother to protest.  I turned around and put my left hand behind my back. 

Joan tied the rope to the D-ring on the left bracelet and pushed up on my arm.  She took the rope over my right shoulder, across my chest and under my left arm, and then over my left shoulder back across my chest.  She pulled the rope as tight as she could and then took the end under my right arm and tied it to the D-ring. 

"There we are.  That's not too tight, is it?" 

"What if I said yes, it is too tight?"  I knew the answer to that question.  Joan knew I knew, and she just smiled. 

Joan turned me so I was facing her and tied another piece of rope to my right bracelet.  She put the rope between my legs and said, "Bend over."  She helped me by pushing down on my neck with her right hand while she pulled on the rope with her left hand.  When my forearm was buried in my crotch she brought the rope up through the crack in my butt and tied it to my left bracelet.  But she wasn't through yet; she wrapped several turns of rope around my waist and right arm and tied them tight. 

Joan said, "Since you've been such a good girl I'm going to let you sit down."  She spread the blanket on the floor near the back wall and helped me sit on it. 

"Now put your left foot on your right knee."  Joan doubled a piece of rope and looped the center around the D-ring on my left ankle.  She wrapped the ends around my knee several times and tied them together, and then tied them again to the rope around my waist. 

She tucked the end of the blanket around my shoulders and said, "That's cozy, isn't it?  I'll see you at the next break." 

I was not comfortable.  I had to sit on my right thigh or else crush my right hand, and the hammerlock on my left arm hurt a lot.  I twisted and struggled and got enough slack so I could unbend until only my wrist was buried in my crotch, but the blanket slipped off of my shoulders and I was cold again.  I hurt so much that I wasn't aroused at all, even though my arm pressed on my nether region.  All I could do was close my eyes and try to think happy thoughts. 

Some time later Joan appeared pushing a cart.  She said, "Dinner time!" and delivered covered trays to Lizzie and Moll.  She pushed a plastic bowl under the door of my cell.  I hoped she would untie me now, but it didn't happen, and I had to wait until the buzzer sounded a long time later. 

I had to wait some more until Joan finally returned and untied me.  All I could do was lay down and moan.  Joan said, "Stop clowning around, Kristen.  If you don't eat before the end of your break I'll take the food back." 

I had missed lunch and I didn't want to miss this meal, so I forced my aching body over to the bowl, which was half-full of a grayish-brown paste.  I asked Joan, "What is this stuff?" 

"I don't know.  We got it from one of the dorms.  They guaranteed that it was fit for human consumption." 

The paste was cold and bland, but I was hungry enough to eat it.  The buzzer went off just as I finished, and Joan said, "Now we get to try something else.  I saw an interesting picture on a Japanese website, and I want to try to duplicate it." 

She had a big hank of jute rope, so I guessed what was coming.  She said, "Put your forearms together, with your hands on the opposite elbow." 

I thought about refusing, but I was so stiff and sore that she could easily handle me, even without the stun collar.  I turned around and put my forearms together, and Joan tied them in place.  Next she wrapped two bands of rope around my arms and torso, one above my breasts and one below.  She cinched the bands around my arms, and I couldn't move them at all. 

I prayed that this was all she was going to do, but Joan stayed in character.  She went over to the wall and used a key to turn a switch mounted in an electrical box; there was a humming noise and a cable descended from the ceiling.  She stopped it when the end was about six feet above the floor and moved me under it.  Then she tied a length of rope around my waist and pulled it tight, with the knot in my navel.  She ran the end of the rope between my legs, carefully placing it between my labia, and forced it under the bands of rope around my torso before she tied it to the loop at the end of the cable. 

I begged, "This is torture, Joan.  Please don't tie me like this." 

"You know I don't like complaints.  Now I'm forced to punish you."  She tied a rope around my left leg just above the knee and ordered, "Lift your leg." 

I resisted until she went to the cable control box and retracted the cable.  When the crotch rope started cutting into me I quickly pulled my knee up.  Joan tied its rope to the end of the cable, and mercifully lowered the cable so the crotch rope had a little slack.  It still hurt, and I started to cry, as much for the pain I knew was coming as for the pain that was already here.  Joan kissed my cheek and left the cell block. 

The next four hours were hell.  I hurt all over, and I longed to pass out, but I knew that if I did the crotch rope would cut me in two.  When Joan finally released me I just collapsed, twitching like I'd been stunned.  She said, "I'm sorry, Kristen.  Maybe that bondage was too strenuous; I don't know how long the model on the website was in that position.  To make up for it I'll let you rest for the remainder of the evening." 

All I could do for quite a while was whimper.  Eventually I was able to crawl to the blanket and wrap it around me. 

I didn't have a very restful night; it apparently takes a lot of practice to be able to sleep on a concrete floor, and even with the blanket I wasn't very warm.   My breasts didn't hurt much unless I touched them, but they were still so tender that if I bumped them while I slept it woke me up.  I was awake long before Jesse brought the morning meal. 

She slid a tray under Lizzie's door, and few minutes later Lizzie exclaimed, "What is this?  I asked for my eggs to be over easy and they're cooked hard!" 

When she said that I was looking at my own breakfast, which was a small bowl of some kind of mush; my sympathetic response was muted.  The mush wasn't actually foul, but it was cold, bland, and nearly tasteless.  This didn't stop me from eating it, however.  It was better than the swill I got for dinner last night, and I figured I'd need all of the nourishment I could get, in case I somehow ended up on the chain gang. 

Jesse asked, "Finished eating, Bonnie?" 

"I hope not, but I did eat all of the unidentifiable grain product that was in the bowl." 

"You've finished.  Now it's time to get to work."  Jesse entered my cell and hooked my ankles together with a short chain and released me from the chain that fastened me to the floor.  She said, "Potty detail first." 

I shuffled out of the cell and waited while she got the camping toilet out of Moll's cell.  She directed, "Take this into the bathroom over in that corner and dump it.  Then come back here and get the other one." 

There was a toilet and a sink inside a small room partitioned-off in a corner and I shuffled to it.  I tried hard to keep from sloshing sewage, because I had a good idea who would have to clean it up.  I was lucky with both potties, and as a reward Jesse let me use the toilet and wash at the sink.  I was pathetically grateful, which told me how much I had been conditioned after only a day as a prisoner. 

Before Jesse left the cell block she padlocked my wrists together in front and shortened the chain on my ankles so I could still stand, but not walk.  I spent the rest of the morning on clean-up detail, most of the time scrubbing the floor.  It was hard on my knees, but it was better than standing up in my cell with nothing to do, or tied in some grotesque position by Joan.  I managed to stretch out the cleaning and other chores until lunchtime; it was glorious not to be in the wire cage of my cell, even if I couldn't move around very well. 

All good things come to an end, and after a 'lunch' of more unidentifiable grain product I was back in the cell, standing around with my hands locked behind my back.  When the next rest period finally arrived I waited impatiently for Jesse to appear and release my hands, and when she did I wrapped up in the blanket and sat down with my back against the wall.  I was very tired, and in spite of all the discomforts I fell asleep. 

I had strange, jumbled dreams, which merged into somebody shaking me.  I woke up, and Jesse said, "You've stretched your break by almost half an hour.  Stand up and put your hands behind your back."  She locked my wrists together. 

I remembered what Lizzie told me and begged, "Please, I didn't mean to.  I just fell asleep." 

"Too bad.  Motive doesn't matter, we go by actions."  She led me into the center of the cell and forced me to sit.  Then she went over to the wall and used her key to operate the winch.  There was a humming noise and the cable descended from the ceiling.  Jesse locked my ankle cuffs to a ring at the end of the cable and turned the switch the other way.  The cable retracted, and my feet went with it until I was suspended with my head about a foot above the floor.  Lizzie was right; I didn't like hanging upside down. 

I had no way of telling the time, but I was still dangling when Joan appeared with dinner.   I was very uncomfortable now, with real pain in my ankles, and I was feeling kind of dizzy.  I begged, "Please let me down.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stretch the break." 

"I expect you're sorry now, but you stay as you are until the four hours are up.  There's a timer on the winch that will lower you then." 

I was suspended for another hour or so, and then the humming started and the cable lowered my feet to the floor.  Well, not quite to the floor; when it stopped they were still about a foot in the air, and there was no way I could free my ankles.  I couldn't even reach them, much less open the padlock that fastened them to the cable.  I kept expecting Joan to appear and release me, but she never did.  I twisted around on the end of the cable like a hooked fish, but there was no position that was comfortable, and it didn't take long before I was crying.  Lizzie and Moll looked at me without saying anything and then went back to their televisions and used their headphones to muffle my piteous cries.  The lights dimmed, indicating that it was night, and I gave up any hope of release. 

By morning I was a wreck.  I hadn't slept at all because of the pain in whatever part of me touched the floor, I was hungry and thirsty, and I was sitting in a pool of urine.  I was so chilled that I couldn't stop shivering, and hypothermia was right around the corner.  The only reason I wasn't screaming was that my throat was sore from the previous night's screams. 

Jesse finally arrived with the morning food, and she somehow guessed that something was wrong; maybe it was my groaning.  She exclaimed, "Bonnie!  Were you like that all night?  Wasn't Joan around yesterday evening to release you?   That girl has been incredibly slack lately, and I'm getting tired of it." 

I managed to hold in the sarcastic remarks and groaned a bit louder.  This wasn't hard, because I hurt all over and my normal high spirits were somewhat down at the moment.  Jesse unlocked the cable from my ankles and helped me to sit up.  I croaked, "Please, can I have some water?" 

Jesse help me stand and I staggered to the front of the cell.  The water was in a bottle attached to the outside of the wire, with a plastic straw into the cell, much like the arrangement in a hamster cage.  I eagerly sucked up some water; it soothed my raw throat. 

Jesse said, "You have to get cleaned up for your trial."  She wrinkled her nose.  "You smell bad." 

Yeah, sitting in a pool of piss will do that, Jesse. 

She got an orange dress and put me into it and pulled a hood over my head.  We left the cell block and climbed the stairs to the ground floor, and then climbed more stairs and walked along a corridor.  Eventually she removed the hood and I found myself in a small locker room that had an attached shower. 

Jesse stripped me and chained me by my collar to a grab-bar inside the shower stall.  Then she removed the webbing cuffs on my wrists, and I screamed as my arms fell to my sides.   While she waited for me to stop making a fuss she removed the anklets. 

Jesse said, "You'll be OK once you move your arms a bit.  Can you turn on the water?" 

I gritted my teeth and opened the valves.  The prospect of getting hot water on my chilled body was enough incentive to ignore the pain in my shoulders and arms, and once the water was flowing I reveled in the warmth.  Someone had left a cake of soap, and I used it to get clean at last.  It seem like it was only moments before Jesse returned and told me to shut off the water.  She handed me a towel and I dried off; my hair was still damp, but there wasn't anything I could do about that without a dryer.  I didn't want to say anything to Jesse, because shaving my head would likely be her solution. 

Jesse handed me the garment bag containing my clothes and told me to get dressed.  It was cool in the shower with the water off so I hurried into my clothes.  The bra was uncomfortable against my bruised breasts, but I put it on anyway.  I had been naked for only two days, but already it felt strange to be wearing clothes.  When I was dressed Jesse was ready with the chains.  She wrapped the transport chain tightly around my waist and cuffed my wrists in front; again the handcuffs were snug, but they didn't cut into my wrists.  Jesse added leg irons and removed the stun collar.  She collected all of the excess restraints and put them into a gym bag.  Then we went for a walk. 

Our destination was the infamous Room 112.  Jesse sat me on the bench against the back wall and padlocked my leg irons to the floor chain.  I was so hungry my stomach hurt, so I asked, "Please, can I have something to eat?  I haven't had any food since yesterday." 

"I'm busy right now, maybe later.  And no talking, unless you want to be gagged." 

I did not want to be gagged, so I shut up.  It was just after 8:30, so I had time for a nap.  I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes, and I was instantly asleep. 

It was just after a quarter to ten when Jesse shook me awake.  She released me from the floor chain and helped me to stand up.  Jesse had changed her clothes and was now wearing a bailiff's khaki uniform.  She said, "Come on, it's time for your trial." 

I responded with a brilliant, "Huh?" and shuffled along as Jesse led me on the familiar route to the courtroom.  Jean and the prosecutor were sitting at the same tables as before, but this time Jesse removed the handcuffs before she let me sit down.  She crawled under the table and used a padlock to shorten the chain between my ankles. 

Jesse opened a door behind the bench and said something, and then walked in front of the bench and said, "All rise, the moot court is now in session." 

The same gray-haired man that was at the arraignment entered the room and sat behind the bench.  He said, "This case is the State versus Bonnie Parker.  Is the prosecution ready?  Is the defense ready?" 

Jean and the prosecutor said yes, and everyone sat down.  Jean made some motion and there was a lot of talking.  I didn't pay any attention; most of what they said was legal jargon, and anyway I was so tired I could barely keep from falling out of my chair.  I was actually asleep when the prosecutor called her first witness, one of the guards of the armored car that been robbed. 

Jean nudged me, and I woke up with a jolt when a large man with a noticeable limp entered the witness box.  I recognized him, even though he wasn't wearing a khaki uniform, and I whispered to Jean, "What's going on?  That's one of the bailiffs." 

"Yes, this is like a low-budget theatrical production where some of the actors have to take several parts.  Don't worry, I saw his script and he'll say both of the robbers were masked and he can't identify anyone." 

The prosecutor asked some routine questions and then she asked the 'guard', "Can you identify the person who robbed you?" 

He pointed at me and said, "Yes, that's her sitting at that table."  He gave me a malicious smile.  Jean gasped, and the prosecutor looked surprised. 

She recovered quickly and asked, "Are you sure?  You said in your deposition that both of the robbers were wearing ski masks." 

"Well, yeah, but the woman robber took off her mask for a few minutes and I saw her face.  It's her, all right." 

"No further questions.  Your witness." 

Jean launched a vigorous cross-examination, but he stuck to his story.  The next witness was the other guard, and he told the same tale.  I knew I was doomed. 

These were the only witnesses, and after some more legal wrangling both attorneys-to-be made closing statements.  Jean did a good job, considering that she had to make it up as she went along, but her case had obviously been dealt a massive setback.  There was some more legal gibberish and then the judge declared a recess to consider the evidence. 

We waited in silence for the judge.  Finally, he returned to the courtroom, and everyone stood until he was in place on the bench.  Jean and I remained standing as he delivered his verdict: 

"This was a difficult case, with the only real evidence being the eyewitness testimony of the guards.   Although there were inconsistencies between their testimony during the trial and their pre-trial depositions, I have chosen to accept their trial testimony.  Therefore I find the defendant guilty as charged." 

Ever since the guard's testimony I had expected this, but it was still a shock, and I gasped.  Jean clasped my hand 

The judge continued, "Usually there is a sentencing hearing, but the defendant's previous felony record and the 'three-strikes' statute make that irrelevant in this case; only one sentence is allowed by the statute.  Accordingly, the defendant is sentenced to imprisonment for life, and she is remanded to the Corrections Department." 

Jean rallied, and said, "I request that the defendant be granted bail pending appeal." 

"Request denied.  The defendant has been convicted of a crime of violence, and she has every incentive to flee.  She is to be taken into custody immediately.  This court is adjourned."  He stood and removed the black robe.  "Now, speaking as an instructor, I would like to thank everyone who assisted us with this moot court, especially the defendant." 

Jesse moved up and fastened my hands behind my back using those hinged cuffs that I hated.  She grabbed my arm, but Jean stopped her before she could drag me away. 

Jean said, "I'm really sorry, Kristen.  I was sure that Bonnie would be acquitted, and I don't know why the guards changed their testimony."   She put an arm over my shoulder and continued, "Since you're going to be part of the incarceration study, you won't want to keep paying rent on your apartment.  If you like I'll move your stuff into storage, and if you'll give me your power of attorney I'll take care of any bills you haven't paid yet." 

That's when it really hit me.  I was going to be imprisoned, and my life was no longer my own.  I broke down and cried, my sobs loud in the courtroom.  Jean hugged me and I put my head on her shoulder as I wept uncontrollably. 

The 'judge' said, "That's a very realistic performance.  I could almost believe that the defendant is really going to go to prison." 

Eventually I stopped crying.  Jean dried my tears and kissed my cheek.  Jesse removed the padlock holding my ankles together and guided me back to Room 112.  I was very depressed. 

When we got back to Room 112 Jesse locked the stun collar on my neck and locked it to a long chain fastened to the floor.  Then she took off the handcuffs and leg irons.  She said, "OK Bonnie, I've got to visit the prison farm anyway, so I'm going to take you with me.  Strip and put on this orange dress." 

I took off the suit, blouse, slip, and panty hose.  I begged, "Please, can I keep my underwear?" 

"Nope.  Strip to your skin." 

I thought of resisting but decided it would do me no good.  I stripped naked and quickly put on the orange dress.  Jesse tossed me a pair of cheap tennis shoes and I put them on too.  I expected Jesse to put the handcuffs and leg irons back on, but she surprised me.  She had a big ball of polyester twine and was cutting off six-foot lengths.  She ordered, "Turn around and cross your wrists behind your back." 

"What's with the twine?  Why don't you use the handcuffs?" 

"Because hardware that goes to the Farm is sometimes slow to return, and I'm going to need all I've got when the student prisoners start arriving here once finals are over.  Now shut up and do as I told you." 

She picked up the stun remote, and I spun around and put my hands behind my back.  Jesse wrapped twine around my wrists in the classic diagonal pattern, tying lots of knots, and finished with a cinch that tightened everything down.  She wasn't brutal, but I could already feel the thin twine cutting into my skin.  I hoped the 'Farm' was close by, because this bondage was going to hurt. 

Jesse hobbled me with a doubled piece of twine and pulled the hood over my head.  She held my arm and guided me out of the building and quite a ways along a sidewalk.  I could hear people talking and traffic noise and I was glad that my face was covered by the hood.  Finally we stopped and a van door was slid open; Jesse pushed down on my head and steadied me until I got a foot inside the van.  She helped me to sit on the floor with my back against the side of the van and tied my hobble to some floor fitting.  She closed the van door and we drove off. 

I had been anxious before, and the drive to the mysterious Farm did nothing to calm my nerves.  It seemed that were on the road for a long time, but I had no way to tell how long it really was.   We spent a lot of time in the city traffic, and then more time driving along country roads.  The van stopped and Jesse got out; then we moved a short distance and the pattern was repeated, so I guessed we went through a locked gate.  I hoped that this meant we were close to our destination, because I was really getting claustrophobia from the hood and a full-scale panic attack wasn't far away. 

I was immensely relieved when the van stopped and Jesse shut off the engine.  She got me out of the van and removed the hood, and I blinked in the sunlight.  Once my eyes adjusted I found that we were standing in front of a large barn.  A young woman emerged from a small door and walked toward us.  She had a slim body, tan skin, and long black hair.  She was wearing black jeans and a black tee shirt. 

She had a worried look.  She said, "Hello, Professor.  Who's this?" 

"This is Bonnie Parker, Tien.  She's your first prisoner; she was convicted today of armed robbery and sentenced to life imprisonment." 

"But we weren't expecting any prisoners until next week!  I'm here alone, and there isn't any place to secure a prisoner." 

I piped up, "Well, I guess that means you'll have to let me go.  How about untying me now?  This twine is cutting my wrists." 

Jesse was not amused, and demonstrated her poor sense of humor by stuffing a ball gag into my mouth and buckling the strap very tight.  She said to Tien, "Let's go inside and you can show me what you've got."  She gave me a shove and we all went inside the barn. 

Jesse pointed to some stalls and asked, "How about over there?" 

Tien replied, "Those stall doors and partitions are only five feet tall.  That isn't high enough to keep her inside." 

"It is if you keep her hands tied behind her back."  I whimpered, but they ignored me.  Jesse continued, "You're going to need some stuff.  Let's put her in a stall for now and I'll do some shopping at Ace Hardware.  Here's her paperwork." 

Tien took my arm and led me over to a stall; she unbolted the door and pushed me inside.  The floor was covered with a thick layer of straw, and I was glad that I couldn't detect any trace of the former occupants. 

Jesse warned, "Be careful around her.  She really doesn't want to be here, and she will escape if you give her a chance.  Since you're here alone I better leave the stun collar on her, but I'll need it back later."  She gave the remote to Tien. 

Tien asked, "What does this do?"  She pointed the remote at me and pushed the button, and I fell down, twitching.  The straw helped to cushion my fall, but it was still a thump, and I was lucky I fell on my back instead of on my face.  I started wheezing, and Jesse was concerned enough to take out the ball gag. 

Tien exclaimed, "Wow!  That's very effective." 

"Yeah, but she can get hurt if you zap her while she's standing up.  I'd give her time to get down before pushing the button." 

"OK.  Say, while you're at the hardware store can you get some eighth-inch cotton rope?  That's what I like to use when I tie up girls." 

Jesse nodded and left the barn, and Tien turned to me with a look of excitement in her eyes that made me nervous.  I struggled to my knees and said, as humbly as I could, "Please, Ma'am, I need to pee."  It really grated to be so subservient to a girl at least ten years younger than me, but I was totally at her mercy and I didn't want to give her an excuse to hurt me.  I just hoped she would need an excuse. 

She giggled and said, "You can call me Tien.  Just a minute, I'll get a bucket." 

She left the stall, closing and bolting the door behind her.  In a few minutes she returned and helped me squat over a plastic bucket; not wearing panties simplified this part of my life.  I thanked her and then, greatly daring, I asked, "Could I have some food?  I haven't eaten anything since yesterday." 

Tien said, "I don't have anything right now; maybe later, after the professor gets back."  She put a tight-fitting lid on the bucket. 

"Why do you keep calling Jesse 'professor'?" 

"Didn't you know?  She's the head of the Psychology Department.  I'm one of her students; she recruited all of the guards from the students in her classes." 

That explained a lot.  I was sure that Jesse carefully evaluated prospective guards to get just the personality types she wanted, and I was also sure the people she picked were really going to enjoy their work. 

End of Part Two
Copyright© 2002 by Zack.  All rights reserved.
I welcome your comments.  Email me at [email protected]

Kristen & the Moot Court
Continues in Part Three

updated: 16.07.02

story continues in