Bound for Glory (9 page)

Anna did the best she could – again - and as she emerged, saw Robyn put a small black case into her bag. She tensed suddenly and listened – the insect noise had stopped. She stared at Robyn in horror.

“Okay, okay! So I had a nanodrone! Don’t worry, it’s not going public, I just had to get myself on film between Anna Chatham’s legs and with a faceful of her twat! My girlfriend is going to be soo jealous!” the blonde exclaimed.

The strain of the past couple of days suddenly broke through and Anna lost control. She dived forwards towards the treacherous lawyer who turned and yelled for Paul. The door burst open just as she got Robyn by a fistful of hair and was about to land clumsy, amateurish punches on the woman’s hateful baby blue eyes and peaches-and-cream complexion. Then she was picked up from behind and swung away, howling her rage and frustration and was thrown like a doll back onto the bed, but she bounced straight back and grabbed Paul round the waist, her fury breaking down dams and giving her a strength she had never known she had, she bore him backwards and slammed him against the wall, then left him and dived back towards the terrified Robyn who dodged behind a table, but Paul grabbed her again and this time twisted her arm up her back, tripped her and fell heavily on top of her, pinning her down. But still she didn’t stop trying to buck the man off her and continue her pursuit of Robyn. It took some minutes before the tides of rage began to ebb and left her gasping and sobbing for breath beneath the pinning weight of the big minder. She felt her twisted arm lowered only just so far – just so that the cuff could be replaced and then she was hauled upright and plonked heavily down onto a chair, cuffed to Paul by one wrist and with one of his big hands gripping her hair tightly and making her look up at Robyn, who was shaken and pale. At least she had accomplished that, Anna thought, and a surge of a new sort of pleasure ran through her – one of pride in her physical prowess – something she hadn’t felt since school days.

“Christ she’s a strong bitch!” she heard Paul say from behind her and she smiled fiercely despite her predicament.

Robyn leaned in closer now she was sure that Anna was pinned down.

“Listen you stupid cow. Lawyers like me are only at this court to appease the bleeding heart liberals and human rights activists! I don’t care about you! Good riddance to the lot of you! I can take my girl out for a meal and walk home at midnight with her in safety because of Mostyn’s Law. All the trash is getting the stuffing knocked out of it for my pleasure in the arenas – or its building the next arena or the next bypass, or railway. It’s a good law and I don’t aim to upset things.”

The two women glared at each other. Anna’s heart was quietening even as she registered the fact that once again she had been played with and manipulated, but at least this time she had put up a fight – and it felt good.

Robyn pushed some hair back as she too calmed down.

“You’re a brilliant lay, babe, so I’ll give you some advice before they send you down. It’s not common knowledge but every owner has to put some money into a bank account for the slave while she’s enslaved. When you’re no use any more and can be released, we don’t want you all being a burden on the state, now do we? You’ve got a bloody terrific body there. Use it, make yourself valuable and you might find you can make a good life for yourself, maybe even buy your freedom. But get used to the fact you’re a slave now. It’s going to happen and there’s nothing you or I – even if I wanted to - can do about it! Now bring her along, Paul. And drag the bitch by the hair if she gives you any trouble!”

The judge was an elderly man with a pale, thin, ascetic face. His hands were long and the fingers slender, like a musician’s, Anna thought, as she watched him shuffle through the papers concerning her case on his desk. It was no courtroom, just a chamber, he wore no wig, Robyn was the only lawyer present – Paul stood behind the chair she was shackled to, just in case. But that was all, Mostyn’s Law cut the whole court process down to absolute basics. Anna was amazed by how calmly she could listen to the lies being spoken about her, but somehow the physical exertion of her fight in the hotel seemed to have left her relatively peaceful and she could begin to accept that whoever had done this to her had won – for now. Robyn’s advice seemed about the best she could hope for – and if she was to be enslaved, it didn’t matter that the woman had filmed them in bed, so she could evaluate the advice coldly and analytically.

Eventually the judge’s fingers were steepled under his chin, his skin was so pale it looked as though it was transparent, the blue veins were plainly in view on the backs of the hands and on the tall, domed forehead.

“In my opinion, all due process has been properly followed by all parties and I see no reason why the sentence shouldn’t stand. Do you wish to lodge any appeal?” This last was to Robyn who shook her head.

“Very well, Anna Chatham, you are to be auctioned to the highest bidder to serve out your sentence in their custody – or in the custody of any subsequent owners. If you prove incapable of training for any useful role in society, you will be sent to a correctional institute until you beg to be released. Although I hear they have now got a chip that will render the most obstinate of prisoners compliant.”

“May I recommend that the prisoner receives any and all treatments that might have that result, your honour. In my opinion, this one is a hardened criminal who could pose serious problems for the ordered running of a decent stable or domestic household.”

The gavel was banged. “I shall take that under advisement, Miss Haddon. I shall also, of course, carry out my own assessment. Bring her to my office.”

He stood up and left the room. Paul unlocked one of Anna’s wrists from the arm of the chair and immediately cuffed it again to himself and then cautiously freed the other one, making sure he kept out of kicking range. Anna was amused but felt no desire to make any more trouble.

The judge’s office was low-ceilinged and the floor thickly carpeted, the door was a solid and heavy oak one. When it closed, it felt as though they were cocooned from all outside sound. The courtroom had been in an office block next to the police station and the judge’s office was in its basement.

As Paul pushed her inside and followed closely, she saw the judge sitting behind a twin pedestal, leather inlaid desk – his fingers were once again steepled under his chin and his milky blue eyes regarded her calmly. To Anna’s surprise a woman stepped up from behind her to stand close beside her. She was dressed in a rather severe, crisp white shirt and plain grey pencil skirt.

“String her up and I will examine her,” the judge said quietly.

Before Anna could react the woman had taken an agonisingly strong grip on her left wrist and had twisted it sharply behind her, making her bend forwards. The woman propelled her into the room and then swung the arm she held forwards and up. From the other side, Paul did the same and with practised precision they buckled her wrists into leather restraints that hung from the ends of chains that were mounted in the low ceiling, Paul unlocked his cuff and removed it, then stood back. Quite suddenly Anna found herself with her arms raised and shackled in the middle of the room and with the judge’s unflinching gaze fixed on her. She felt very vulnerable and then it got very much worse.

The woman approached Anna and ripped the front of her shirt open, spraying buttons across the carpet, then produced a knife and began to carefully slice the sleeves open. At last Anna began to struggle but the woman took a painful grip on her cheeks with her free hand, forcing her to look at her.

“I have no intention of harming valuable government property. But this knife is sharp and it will slip if you struggle,” she told Anna calmly.

Anna subsided and watched her sleeves opened so that the garment fell off her. Three slices had her bra off and she hid her face against her raised arms as her breasts swung free in front of the judge’s impassive gaze. Three more quick slices saw to her skirt and knickers and she was naked.

Behind her she heard the door open and close and guessed she was alone with the woman and the judge. She parted her forearms gingerly and peered towards where the judge had been. He had risen from his seat and was now standing directly in front of her.

“I have to submit an appraisal of how long I think it’ll be before you’re fit to rejoin society, it might be longer than your actual sentence. To this end I will have you whipped by Miss Thorpe.”

Anna tried to frame an outraged protest but was stopped by a blow that felt like a punch across her whole middle back. She spun on the end of her chains and saw the woman holding a whip composed of many suede tails about two feet long. She was running them through her fingers and clearly sizing up her next target.

“No!” Anna managed as she saw the woman’s arm go back, then she spun back and buried her face against her arms again as the whip landed. Again it felt like a punch and left a diffuse burning sensation across her back.

Another lash landed and Anna threw her head back and twisted. The next lash caught her full across the fronts of her thighs and she spun back again – straight into the judge’s hands. His cold, clammy fingers closed on her nipples and made her catch her sobbing breath and hold still. The whip caught her across her buttocks, some of the tails wrapping around and stinging her delta.

Anna could not believe it was happening. Of course she knew what slaves underwent in the arenas – but she knew it in a vague, unfocussed way; faceless people doing things to mere slaves; not real people. Now she was a slave and she was being whipped and it was very real. The pain and heat built steadily in her back and bottom but still the judge held her by the nipples, tightening his grip and sending spears of sharp pain darting through her. But at last she couldn’t take any more battering to her back and wrenched herself free with a scream and spun round. She met the next lash full on and took it across her breasts. She felt them swing and then flatten under the impact and her mouth gaped open in expectation of the agony to come, but instead there was an instant inferno of pure sensation that held her as her body absorbed it. She could feel a strange hot feeling spreading down through her torso. Miss Thorpe was totally unmoved and the lash landed again, exactly where it had before. Again Anna felt her breasts shift, flatten and sway and again there was the silent explosion inside her. It was a feeling she had no name for and she was so bewildered that when she felt the judge’s hands on her shoulders, she tamely turned back to face him. He gave her a cold, thin lipped smile.

“You not only look beautiful under the whip, you’re showing signs of responding very well!”

Anna couldn’t frame any reply under the relentless rhythm of the whip and jerked helplessly forwards under each lash while the judge caressed her breasts, kneading and palpating them while all the time taking harder and harder pinching grips on her nipples.

“They are very beautiful,” he sighed.

Anna looked down at her breasts as she jerked under the lash and saw the judge’s long, pale fingers playing with her thrusting and vulnerable assets, unexpectedly she felt the hot tides rise within her as the whip fell and her breasts shook and rippled in his grasp.

“You may strip now, Miss Thorpe,” the judge said suddenly, standing back and releasing her breasts.

“Huh?” Anna managed, twisting her head around. The woman had put the whip down and was unbuttoning her shirt. She swung back towards the judge and for the first time realised he had a tell-tale bulge in his trousers – so either he was active for his age or was younger than he looked.

“I shall fuck you against the wall behind you,” the judge said with complete calm. “While the young lady composes herself for more whipping.”

“As you wish, m’lud,” the woman replied, stepping out of her skirt and revealing that she had been naked underneath it. “She marks exceptionally well and has as good a body as any I’ve seen pass through here.”

“Indeed she does. And I firmly believe that a further fifty lashes or so will prove that she is ideally suited to the life ahead of her. Any early release would be a waste of her talents.”

The words washed over Anna as she tried to draw breath and come to terms with the fact that once again sex was being coupled with the whip. And each time it happened, she was the cause of the sex without getting her share. Even though the judge revolted her, the sounds of vigorous rutting from behind her as she rested her forehead against her arms, made her realise where all the sensations the whip had aroused in her were finally concentrating. She was wet. She knew the moist hot feeling in her belly. Behind her Miss Thorpe was groaning, her voice quavering in time to the judge’s thrusts into her. She risked looking behind her and saw the thin figure of the judge ramming his hips back and forth between the woman’s sturdy thighs as she braced herself against the wall. As Anna watched, the fuck came to its climax, the judge held himself rigid and let out a roar of release and then slumped against the woman for a moment. The room was silent apart from the ragged breathing of the pair against the wall. Then the judge pushed himself upright, zipped up his trousers and returned to his desk, as if nothing had changed.

Anna looked round again. Miss Thorpe was licking her fingers and as she saw Anna watching, she gave her a lazy, lascivious smile and delved them back between her thighs where snail trails of sperm were already leaking from her. The dark, luxuriant nest of pubic hair was matted with moisture and Anna watched in fascination as she wantonly foraged her fingers up into herself and drew out the fluid, then licked it off them.

“Come here and kneel, Miss Thorpe,” the judge said when the woman had been just about to start beating Anna again. Anna saw a trace of annoyance pass across her face as her fun was interrupted but it was gone in an instant and she laid the whip on a chest of drawers and went to the desk where she knelt at its side. She knelt upright and pressed herself against the side, then put her hands beneath her heavy breasts and stroked them from underneath so that they were fully laid out on the top of the desk, then she clasped her hands behind her head, pushing her shoulders back and thrusting her breasts out as far as they would go.