A Courthouse Corruption

Part One

It started with how he looked at me. Sardonically, with this wry little smirk. Piercing blue eyes cutting through me like a knife. I couldn't get his face out of my mind.

I'm a clerk by profession, the go-to-pick-up -the-slack-make-sure- everything-goes-smoothly girl, and I try to keep my judge happy, running efficiently and on time.

It's not that I stopped being attentive when the new officer joined our courtroom team...I just had to try very hard to stay focused. God, that stare.

The day that it happened, I was wearing a tight white pencil skirt with a purple blouse. I'm very busty and my voluptuous breasts are hard to keep from peeking through the top, but I wore a blazer over it to hide my form.

No-one else was in the courtroom yet. It was just me and him. I knew he was watching me, and he knew I knew it. As I pretended nothing was happening, piling case files in order to match the day's schedule, testing the microphones, refilling the water pitchers, he just sat, stared, and smirked. It was a bit irritating, actually, and when he brushed past me causing the case files to fall onto the floor, I felt my blood boiling.

He grinned and said, "That was clumsy of you, wasn't it?"

I was already on edge and uncertain as to what he wanted. So I called him on it. I'm not one to mince words.

"Look," I said, "I know you're trying to get to me. What I can't figure out is why. That was a fucked up thing to do. I didn't drop the files. You did. And I'd appreciate if you quit being an asshole and helped me pick them up. Seriously, if you're interested in me or something, there's no need to behave like a grade-school boy with a crush. "

His face softened. It was almost like I had passed some kind of a test. At least, in my mind that's what I'd done. I mean, I'm just as starry-eyed as the next girl, but I'm not going to let some guy manipulate me and laugh at me just because he has captivating blue eyes.

But in the end, I did.

---

You see, he did help me pick up the files. So we were both kneeling on the floor, gathering the fallen items, and my breathing started to accelerate from my proximity to his body.

"I'm sorry for being an asshole," he said. "I shouldn't have acted so familiar. I can be a jerk to my friends in good fun, but I'll only ever be that way again if you say it's okay." With that, he stood up, gently trailing his fingers over my arm as I stayed kneeling on the floor. I felt shocked and confused, with goosebumps breaking out in waves that rippled in the wake of his touch.

"I think you're gorgeous," he said, looking down at me on the floor. "I have from the moment I walked in this room. I also see that you're honest and feisty, and I love that. I just have this feeling about you...I'm not looking for anything serious right now. Just a girl who will let me do my worst, test her limits, punish her and then reward her for her suffering. I'd be honored if that girl would be you."

Well I have to say, that was a first. I mean, I'd had guys be jerks, and I'd had them be sensitive, but certainly no-one had ever asked me to actually consent to the mistreatment.

He gave me my space while I pondered his proposition. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I had always loved the "bad boys." I just have hated the way they made me feel after the initial thrill subsided. But the promise of a reward to follow the punishment instantly brought wetness to my thighs. And at that moment, I decided that my clerk's job could use a little spice.

I looked him straight in his stunning blue eyes. "Okay officer," I said. "Do your worst."

----

Now I know he started out slow, but at the time it sure felt fast to me. The stenographer came into the room, quickly followed by the judge, and the officer went out to call the first case.

When the litigants arrived, I swore them in: "...Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" I had said that phrase a thousand times over, but I nearly forgot it because the officer kept his gaze fixed on my breasts. My nipples responded even as I finished the oath. I felt them tighten underneath my blouse, straining at the fabric.

The judge began to patiently devote himself to the litigants' droning, each of them describing the terrible things the other was doing, and why that other person was unfit for custody of their children (I work in family court, and spiteful co-parents are the worst). I think the only thing they stopped short of saying was that the opposition ought to have been sterilized. I tried to remain attentive and keep documents at the ready, while making sure I paid attention to the judge so I could type up his order at the end-usually I don't even need to listen to him. I almost always know which way he will rule.

The officer slowly made his way toward me, which on any other day would not have been unusual. It's quite common for the officer to work together with the clerk to run the courtroom. So no-one found it odd. The mere fact that no-one else suspected our game thrilled me. My entire body became rigid and tense, anticipating what was to come next.

Keeping his eyes on my breasts he leaned over toward me, warm breath on my cheek, and whispered, "I want you to act perfectly normal. I'm just talking to you about which case we should call next. Nod slightly if you understand, and if you are still willing to let me mistreat you." I nodded. The wetness between my thighs was spreading and I felt butterflies.

His tone changed, and what came next was not a statement but a command.

"Okay you fucking slut. Take off your panties."

I was shocked, yet not surprised. He stayed there beside me, looking at me demandingly. Very cautiously, I surveyed the room. My desk is right beside and a bit below the judge's. It's covered in front, so I'm only visible from the waist up. The litigants were facing me but also paying me no mind. They don't care about anyone but the judge. The stenographer faced away from me. The officer looked down at my skirt and waited.

I took a deep breath, checked one more time to make sure no-one was watching, and then reached up under my skirt to pull down my soaking panties.

"Give them to me," he ordered, and his voice took on a deep gruffness that had not been apparent in our earlier conversations. I held out my panties and he stuffed them in his pocket, then handed me a small white box. "Now, on our next break, I want you to take this into the bathroom. Open it up when you are in the stall. I want you to put them on as tight as you possibly can. It will hurt."

I felt an almost indecipherable combination of fear and anticipation, ignorant as to what the box could possibly contain.

At our next break, I excused myself as quickly as I could. Once in the bathroom, I headed straight to the handicapped stall and opened the box. I had never seen them before. The box contained two black scary-looking implements. They looked like tweezers with a circular binding. They had to be nipple clamps.

My breasts were still absurdly hard and tight, thrilled from the morning's entertainment. I applied one of the clamps to my right nipple and began to tighten. At first it felt pleasant. At about halfway it felt uncomfortable, and when I closed my eyes and tightened them all the way, my nipple protested so loudly I didn't think I could do it. But I did.

I repeated the steps with the second side, and sneaked a peek of myself in the mirror inside the stall.

My breasts fell undulating nearly to my waist. My throbbing nipples were much longer than normally appropriate. Clamped with the silver chain to connect them, I did not recognize myself.

I put my bra back on, followed by my purple blouse, and the fabric pressed against the clamps to make the pain almost unbearable, tweaking my nipples in different directions from all sides. I was once again a respectable clerk with my pencil skirt, top, and blazer. I felt mischievous. I also felt extreme pain.

I re-entered the courtroom in time to see the next pair of angry litigants entering. I stood to give them their oath, all the while trying to ignore the host of sensations coming from my chest.

My torture had begun.

PART TWO

Time passed by in a blur. I did my best to stay focused, but it seemed like every two minutes I caught a glance of the sheriff's officer, his gaze fixed on me, and it sent shivers down my spine and sparked a throbbing shudder deep in my groin. My lack of panties meant I was perpetually aware of the wetness pouring from between my legs, dripping onto my thighs and my skirt. I hoped to god the fabric was thick enough that I wouldn't have to do some thinking on my feet with the judge and my coworkers.

After about a half hour I was wincing every time I moved, and the officer strolled over to me casually.

"Anything wrong?" He inquired quietly, leaning over my desk, ever non-chalant.

I whimpered in response, "These things are hurting me."

"You know you can always request permission to remove them." I hadn't thought about that before, didn't know how these things worked.

"Okay," I said. "Can I remove them?"

"Can I remove them...?"

I wasn't sure what he wanted. "Please?" Suddenly I had to suppress a gasp. With his back to the litigants and the judge's attention turned away for a moment, the officer had grabbed the chain between the clamps and pulled. The movement was brutal and after thirty minutes of being squeezed to a point of total tenderness, the pain was overwhelming.

He saw my hurt expression and smiled sweetly. "Good. Now I think you'll remember. You will always call me Sir. You will address all requests to Sir, and you will call me that even when there are others watching. Now, what is it you wanted?"

Wounded, I mumbled, "Please can I remove them Sir?"

"Good slut," he said. "Yes, you may. And you may even put these back on." He handed me back my sodden panties, grinned, then turned and strode away without glancing back.

At the next possible opportunity, I bolted to the bathroom. It was with monumental relief that I removed the clamps, at which point I rubbed my breasts and my nipples with both hands until I finally felt the blood circulating normally again. I was in such a state of tension and distraction that it wasn't until my panties were back on that I looked down and noticed the writing: PROPERTY OF SIR. Holy fuck.

Well, today certainly wasn't going to be like every other day, that was a fact. It was with excitement and trepidation that I left the bathroom to see what the rest of the day would bring.

-----

Back in the courtroom, the judge was conferencing with his law clerk, and for once the room was free of belligerent litigants trying to ruin the lives of the people they had once sworn to love and cherish forever.

The officer smiled when he saw me and said low enough for only me to hear, "Ah, my property! How do your tits feel?" I refused to meet his gaze, and I got wetter as I got madder.

"Better now, Sir," I mumbled.

"Good, good! Be a dear and keep your gaze down at the floor in front of you, just like that. Never mind me. Oops!" Somehow he managed to fake a trip. I felt his hands and the cold hard edge of metal, something pulling at my legs and suddenly, a buzzing sensation directly between my legs.

As soon as he had begun, he finished, picking himself up from his "trip" in time to nod casually at the judge and stride back to his post by the rarely-used witness podium. The law clerk left and the officer called the next case.

The officer caught my eye only once, and mouthed, "DON'T LOOK DOWN." And so I was left to wonder what he had done to me, though I was sure the buzzing couldn't be anything but a vibrator left tantalizingly just out of reach.

Midway through Mr. and Mrs. Talks-too-much-but-don't-say-anything-interesting's custody battle, the missus requested to present her "proof" that her former spouse was an unfit father-Facebook photos of him sticking his tongue down the nanny's throat. I suppressed a yawn; people are always thinking that these things are evidence of everything, when really all they show is that the husband was banging the nanny. And that's it. Surprise! He still gets to be the father of her children! Anyway, the officer had chosen precisely that moment to step out of the courtroom, so I was the next in line to retrieve the papers. I began to rise from my desk...and found that I couldn't. My ankles were attached firmly to something. I wasn't sure what. But I couldn't move. The judge and the litigants stared at me as a blush began to fill my face.

"I'm sorry, your honor," I stuttered, "If you will just give me a moment." The seconds dragged on as I wracked my brain to figure out what to do, when suddenly the officer came back in and as though he had already known what was happening, grabbed the papers and walked them to the judge. I was livid.

On his way back to the post he sidled up beside me and whispered, "So cute when you're mad! Don't worry, I'll always come through in the end!" In response I merely glared at him.

His tone changed and he whispered, "You better watch yourself you whore. Unless you want me to exchange the vibrator...for this." He grabbed my hand and closed my fingers around a thick hard piece of plastic. "In fact, I think you'll be inserting this on your next bathroom break." He reached around the desk as if to grab a pen and pinched my thigh so hard my eyes teared. "Good slut," he smiled at me, "Try not to be too chained to your desk!" And with that he walked away.

I put my hand under the desk and stared. He had handed me a butt plug, and my ankles were handcuffed to a bar that was tied to my chair.

It wasn't even 11:00am yet. I might not survive the day, I thought, and let out a low whimper. The officer grinned. The case continued.

----

PART THREE

I'm not sure how he managed it, but the officer managed to enable me to stay chained, literally, to my desk, without getting up. Instead, I continued my normal tasks, typing and printing the orders, and the officer kept whisking said orders from the printer as though it was his job, not mine. No-one seemed to notice. The fact that everyone was going on around me as normal was positively thrilling, and despite my growing discomfort, my need to fidget, use the restroom, walk around, I grew wetter and wetter in the delicious secret-ness of it all.

After the officer called the next case, he placed a packet on my desk without looking at me and then walked away. If anyone had noticed (although in fact no-one did), they would have simply thought it was a case-related document, something to file, stamp, or otherwise tediously process.

In fact it was a sadomasochistic checklist, instructing me to circle, on a scale of "No" to "5," what I would or would not be willing to endure for the benefit of my "Sir."

I felt my breathing accelerate and my pussy tighten and drip as I read through the endless descriptions of sexual perversion and torture. Some of them were absolute no's-permanent tattoos? Piercing?! Others just left me bewildered-mummification...pegging...I assumed they weren't referring to normal pegs.

As I double-tasked my clerk duties and what I now understood to be my "submissive" duties, I put question marks beside the questions I did not comprehend, and answered the others as honestly as I was able.

My breath grew short when I reached the open-ended question section. List all the degrading names you would ever allow yourself to be called. I took a deep breath to steady myself, then started writing with venom:

Slut

Whore

Bitch

Fucking bitch

Idiot

Fuckhole

I tried to be creative, nervously laughing at myself for not knowing what else was out there.

Brainless whore

Ugly bitch

Wow, the adjectives made those words sting. Did I really want to be called these things? No...and yes.

That was just the beginning. There was an entire blank page for fantasies. Sitting there, on the record, the litigants blathering on, my ankles still tied underneath me, my wetness surely reaching the seat underneath me, I must admit I became a bit carried away.

Kidnapping

Blackmail rape

Stranger fucking

Things I hadn't even known I knew about suddenly spilled from my pen onto the paper, and I was lost in my imaginings of the sensations that were possible.

As lunch approached I began to experience an intense need to use the restroom, but my pride kept me from asking him to release me. The desire to relieve myself kept growing, the pressure on my bladder building. The officer saw when I finally placed my pen on the desk and pushed the "paperwork" to one side. He came over swiftly, winked at me and whispered, "You haven't moved in a while, whore!"

When I thought I couldn't stand it anymore, I looked painfully in his direction and he sauntered once more to my desk.

"Yes, ya dumb bitch?" He said mischievously.

Despite everything else I felt myself grow wet once again. "Please Sir, I need to use the bathroom."

"I'll let you, if you beg properly enough."

I took a deep breath. "Please Sir, please let me go to the bathroom." He just kept staring at me...clearly that wasn't enough. Nervously, I sneaked a glance at the judge. Totally distracted.

"Sir, I'm just a dumb whore who needs to piss really bad. Please can you unlock me?"

"Dumb whore, huh? Yes, you are...my dumb stupid whore," he crooned in my ear. He was practically singing as with tortured slowness he bent over, whispering, "dumb stupid whore needs to piss..." I listened, mortified and stunned at the juices spilling from my hot cunt at the sound of his abuse.

"Go take your piss, you dumb whore," he said. "Remember my instructions and then meet me in the conference room, 302. Stand with your back to the door, bent over the table. I'll cover for you."

I practically ran to the bathroom, and I wasn't sure if it was my imagination but there seemed to be some strange looks thrown my way from the law clerks. I hoped they couldn't smell my cunt juice...it felt like I was swimming in it.

A river of piss streamed from me, and when I wiped I had to triple the paper because of how wet and dripping my pussy had become. I sighed, relieved, and then tensed again when I remembered the plug. Fuck.

----

It was with painful embarrassment that I waddled from the bathroom at what I hoped was a somewhat good impression of a normal court clerk walking to room 302. I opened the door, closed it behind me, bent over the table...and waited.

I heard the door open and then lock. My body tensed, and I braced myself for the ass beating I was surely about to receive. So I was shocked, relieved, and then horrified when I felt nothing at all. I didn't move.

"You best breathe now, my fucking slut. This one might be your last." There was a momentary pause, and then his hands were around my neck and he was squeezing the life out of me. I collapsed on the table, wriggled my legs. I felt panic surging in my gut up into my chest. Time slowed. My nipples hardened. My pussy dripped onto the floor.

He released me, and I heaved myself onto the floor, crying at his feet. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing.

He came down beside me, stroked my hair, pinched my nipples, caressed me, soothed me and held me.

"Sweet little sub...good little sub...I'll decide when you breathe now, won't I?"

"Yes, Sir. Yes you will," I said.

PART FOUR

Back in the courtroom, the judge had just finished the morning calendar. I was confused to see my co-worker Julie sitting in my chair.

Julie turned to me and said, "Officer Jenkins mentioned you were feeling nauseous. Gosh, you really don't look good. Do you need to go home?"

I was suddenly aware of my flushed face, and the sweat that had appeared on my brow and the back of my neck. I was also aware of a murderous look directed at me by the officer, which I interpreted to mean that I better not leave. I smiled nervously at Julie and told her I was feeling better now, thanking her for subbing.