Kimiko's Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day in Court (Avery & Amelia Pt. 4)

[Mr. Smith]

I was in shock, not believing my eyes, as I watched the scene unfolding before me in court this morning. There was Avery Bedford and a woman I recognized as her mother, as a bailiff was leading them into court naked, handcuffed, wearing slave collars. They were bent over the railing in front of the jury box with their privates facing the audience in the courtroom.

There were five long welts on each of their asses and Avery had that just fucked look that I was familiar with. I noticed she was leaking cum out of her asshole as did the judge. Then poor Avery had a really big butt plug rammed up her ass to prevent her from dripping in the courtroom to the laughter of many in the audience. I felt horrible for her.

Then it became weird with me not being familiar with slavery and the rules about controlling a slave’s orgasms. I was about to get a crash course in slave orgasm denial this morning. That Avery had an orgasm control problem was not surprising as I knew from personal experience that she liked sex and definitely savored her climaxes.

Avery and I had met the first week freshman year in the dorms, living on the same floor. We discovered we had much in common, both of us had a quirky sense of humor, an idealistic sense of right and wrong and with an interest in triathlons we quickly became training partners competing in our first triathlon in mid-October. Avery did really well while I felt like I was just happy to survive and finish the event.

Since Avery was strong like an Amazon I teasingly referred to her as Amazon Princess Avery and when she placed in the top ten in our first triathlon I nicknamed her Wonder Woman and it stuck. I mean she was a 5’ 10” black haired goddess with the physique that matched the comic book character.

That Halloween for a dorm costume contest she dressed up as Wonder Woman and I was her sidekick, Wonder Girl. We won the contest beating out the second place pair consisting of a frat guy that went as a bricklayer paired with his girlfriend, the scantily clad brick. After dancing the night away together I learned that Avery and I had much more in common when she tied me up with her golden lasso and sexually dominated me for the first of many such sessions.

Yes, I liked girls and may even be a lesbian or at least I think I am never having met a man the really interested me or who could even give me an orgasm. I mean, I am only twenty years old still trying to figure out my own sexuality while experimenting in college. The boys I had met did not yet know how to navigate a woman’s body and bring her pleasure.

Avery and I had a short-lived and passionate affair where I briefly thought I was in love only to quickly learn it was just really good friends having very good sex. Avery, not ready to settle down, liked to play the field, and that included boys. Sexually we were a really good match, she was a very confident dominant while I was a quiet submissive who likes it when my partner takes charge. I referred to her as “my princess” in private, especially when sexually submitting to her during one of our sessions. We had a frank and honest discussion remaining good friends, training partners and occasional lovers when the mood hit us which was usually at least once a month through our sophomore year this spring.

Avery exuded confidence that some might describe as arrogance. She was fearless with a strong sense of right and wrong, maybe an Amazon social justice warrior. There was a girl on the floor below us bitching one night about sleeping with Jake Turner, the new freshman sensation on the football team. He had fucked her leaving her wanting, when she complained he laughed at her telling her that was what her hand was good for and to take care of it herself as he walked out the door.

To make matters worse he bragged about it to his drinking buddies over beer later that evening much to the poor girl’s embarrassment. I am not sure what he was so proud about, not being able to get the girl off was no badge of honor in my eyes, college boys are just strange.

Avery decided that Jake needed to learn a lesson and seduced him going back to his room one night. She took charge handcuffing his hands to the bed frame leaving her on top. I mean what male or female would not let Avery, a naked Amazon goddess, handcuff them naked on their bed with the promise of sex to follow?

After licking and sucking Jake’s cock to a big old erection Avery told him that he needed to lick her to an orgasm before she mounted his dick while she was rubbing her pussy lips on the head of his tool. When he finally begged to eat her cunt she mounted him and rode his face to two orgasms leaving his face covered in her juices. She even made Jake tongue her rosebud before mounting him, hinting that she may even give him her ass if he was a good boy.

Avery rode Jake slowly until she creamed all over his cock while not letting him get off. Then she dismounted telling him her sexual needs were sated and put her clothes on. When he complained she laughed at him telling him that was what his hand was good for and to take care of it himself as she walked out the door leaving him handcuffed to his bed, the key on his desk, with a pair of blue balls having marked her territory by leaving her juices all over his face. After that my Wonder Woman was every girl’s hero in the dorms.

I last hooked up with Avery, or should I say My Princess, after her third place finish in the SPA Girl Tri in early May. I crossed the finish line in twelfth place which was a real accomplishment for me. We met up afterwards to celebrate and give each other full body massages to make our aching muscles feel better.

That massage led to a more intimate massage culminating with Avery pushing my buttons into a delicious, floaty, blissed-out headspace and sexual wellbeing as she pushed me from one orgasm to another. I floated in space as the pleasure overwhelmed me. Making me beg her to fuck my ass with her magic wand she pushed me over the edge to that one extra intense climax that she was want to do that rolled over me like a thunderstorm, rippling me around like a flag in the wind as lightning struck, blinding me.

I remember coming down in her strong arms with that damned dildo, her Strap U Regal Rider Vibe Triple G, vibrating in my ass as she gently kissed my neck and smiling face as I cried as my emotions overwhelmed me saying, “Thank you, My Princess”. Man, she knew how to make a girl feel good. It could be that Avery was solely responsible for my lack of interest in boys since none of them had ever come close to sexually satisfying me like her.

I questioned how this could have happened to Avery and her mother. My attorney gasped when they entered the courtroom and were bent over the railing. She started furiously texting on her phone. I wondered if she knew either Avery or her mom who I had met only a couple of times. When I took a closer look after getting over my initial shock I noticed that Avery’s mother was sporting three brands; a “V” on her left buttock, a “B” on her right buttock and a “B” in a diamond on her back over the shoulder blade. I knew that some slaves received brands for different reasons but had no clue as to what they meant.

Then it dawned on me, Avery’s mother must have been a slave! I was shocked that this woman that Avery described as an educated and successful business woman, former PTA president and fully engaged helicopter mom may have been a slave.

I also noticed that both Avery and her Mom had matching fresh aerosol bandages on the inside of their right buttocks. It looked like they had just received another brand, possibly a criminal slave brand of some kind.

So how did I end up here in Judge Horace Ledbetter’s courtroom needing the assistance of an attorney in a criminal case? Well I grew up in Berkeley California, the daughter of Margaret Tanaka and the sperm donor that refused to make my mother an honest woman when he got her pregnant. My Mom quickly rebounded into the arms of Nancy Sullivan, who was a professor at UC Berkeley where my mother was working on her masters. They had a whirlwind romance and married the week before I was born.

So I grew up with two Moms and no male influence in my life. In high school I dated both girls and boys never really feeling that special connection with either. Mom and Nancy told me that I would know when I met my special someone and not to worry. It was still very confusing for me not knowing who I was sexually during my formative years. So many of my friends had their orientation figured out whether they were cis, bi, lesbian or something else altogether.

Your next question is how a girl from Berkley ended up in Houston Texas attending Rice University. Well that sperm donor was from Texas and I wanted to learn more about my roots. Going to school in Texas seemed like a good idea at that time. I was interested in architecture and Rice had a really strong program so the school was a fit.

Due to the federal indenture requirements for student loans my parents insisted upon paying for my education. That was until last fall when Nancy came down with an illness that tapped out their savings. I missed the email from Mom telling me to not write a check for the entire spring semester tuition since they did not have the money to deposit. I ended up bouncing the tuition check. Rice was really understanding and let me stay in school while I worked out the payment issue.

Unfortunately, it was not resolved by the middle of the semester and they referred me to the District Attorney Check program for writing a bad check. When I could not come up with the $25,000 I was charged with one count of felony writing a check with knowledge that I had insufficient funds in the account at the time the check was written. They gave me today’s court date for my first appearance which I believe is called an arraignment. The DA had the email I had received from Mom telling me not to write the check and my account balance showing that I did not have the funds when I wrote the check. It looked like they had a slam dunk case and I had a good chance of being enslaved.

With finals over I did some research and quickly reached out to the Cotillion School for Ladies in Houston which was a school for consorts which sounded like a much better option than what I learned happened to attractive young women in my situation. They asked me to fill out a questionnaire, send a copy of my transcripts from Rice and some pictures.

Jean Mackey, the Assistant Headmistress at Cotillion, contacted me after reviewing my application and brought me in to talk about the program. As my interview concluded she advised that I was an intriguing applicant and that they would add me to their catalog for potential buyers. It felt really strange to envision one Kimiko Sullivan as one of many girls for sale in a catalog, which someone could thumb through like looking at an L.L. Bean or Lands’ End catalog, available for purchase just like a blouse or pair of pants by an interested buyer.

The Cotillion linked me up with Sharon Price, who was the attorney the Cotillion had on retainer to represent young women like me who were good candidates for their program. She told me she would make a push for diversion with a payment plan but that it could include some public corporal punishment, atonement sessions and community service. I promised to return home getting a job and living with my parents rent free to pay off my debt. Although I was not looking forward to a whipping, being fucked in public and living at home this was better than the other options.

The most likely scenario would be felony criminal diversion and voluntary indenture for a period of time to pay off the debt. If that happened I might get purchased and sent to the Cotillion IF there was an interested buyer. Being sold as a pleasure slut, otherwise known as a sex slave, terrified me so I was praying for a kind master to buy me and send me to the Cotillion to become a consort. I could not believe that I was hoping to become a consort instead of a sex slave but it was the lessor of two evils in my eyes.

The worst case scenario would be felony criminal enslavement and the Cotillion would not accept me if that happened and likely sale at auction as a pleasure slut. Sharon also warned me that being half Japanese could be a plus or minus for some buyers and that my unresolved sexuality could also pose a problem but she figured that I had just not met a real man yet. Once I did that problem would be solved.

Due to a lack of funds and Nancy needing my mother to help take care of her I was here on my own. I told Mom to stay home with Nancy and that I would be home once this mistake was cleared up putting a much too optimistic spin on the situation not wanting to make her worry. Right now I really needed her here holding my hand in support. I really felt out of my depth and all alone sitting in the courtroom.

Watching Avery crying as she was caned by her mother in open court was unnerving me. Then the judge had the bailiff check her slave heat, whatever that is, and then he ordered Avery’s mother to masturbate Avery to one orgasm. Watching this unfold I could not believe that I was in a real courtroom watching a naked woman being forced to climax in public, let alone being manually stimulated by her own mother. It was surreal. I even pinched myself once to wake up from the bad dream, unfortunately it was not a dream.

So there she was, my Wonder Woman, Princess Avery, moaning naked in court while being manually stimulated by her mother on the verge of an orgasm. The cruel judge forced her to hold it in while Avery begged for permission to climax. When the judge finally relented Avery erupted into one big orgasm and we locked eyes as she was coming down. She let out a loud sob of humiliation when she realized that I recognized her. Then as the judge was speaking she composed herself, looking at me like the old Avery I knew, she reasserted herself blowing me a little kiss accompanied by a wink and then she was gone, herded out of the courtroom with her mother.

Needless to say I was in shock, standing there with my hand over my mouth, tears streaming out of my eyes. Sharon must have seen the kiss and wink because she asked me if I knew Avery while handing me some Kleenex. When Sharon learned that I did, she quickly pulled me towards the hallway telling the bailiff that she needed a quick client consultation. Before we got out the door my case was called by the judge.

Sharon asked the judge to pass the matter as she needed an urgent client consultation based on new information. The Deputy District Attorney was fine passing the case but a James Hampton representing Rice objected advising the judge that Rice considered me a flight risk in that I was from Berkeley California which was a slave sanctuary city along with nearby San Francisco.

The judge frowned upon learning where I was from. I had a sudden feeling of trepidation after that revelation that I was suddenly screwed due to some of the anti-California prejudices held by many Texans. It did not help that I was a hapa also. For those not familiar with the term in California it refers to any person of mixed ethnic background that includes a person of Asian heritage.

I was a Japanese Caucasian mixture of ethnic “hapa hotness”, or at least that was how my Princess Avery described me. I was a fit 5’ 8” one hundred and twenty-pound triathlete with narrow hips, wide shoulders, firm champagne cup B cup breasts and flowing black hair that fell mid back. Being two inches shorter and one cup size smaller than Avery was how I became Wonder Girl to her Wonder Woman that Halloween.

“I agree with Mr. Hampton that being from a sanctuary city in California means that you are a flight risk. Ms. Price, I can either remand your client into custody or authorize courthouse remand which would allow her to meet and confer with you more easily,” ruled the judge with a grin.

“Ms. Sullivan will take courthouse remand,” responded Sharon as I breathed a sigh of relief that would soon be short lived.

Jail inmates in Texas were kept slave naked and outfitted with a slave collar that could shock them into unconsciousness. My relief was fleeting as the bailiff approached carrying a large bag, handcuffs, a leash and a neon green slave collar.

“Ms. Sullivan you will strip naked placing your clothes into the temporary holding bag which I will retain. You may give your wallet and phone to your attorney to hold for you and you can keep any jewelry on you. The green collar will be secured on your neck and will shock you into unconsciousness if you try to leave the courthouse,” advised the bailiff while the judge looked on with a lecherous grin on his face.

I started panicking when Sharon grabbed me gently by the shoulder getting my attention.

“This is the best option honey, let me help you get started,” she said, as she moved behind me to start unzipping my dress which fell to the ground as I stood there in shock.

Sharon then unfastened the hook to my bra and it fell forward baring my breasts. Had I known that I would be stripping in front of an audience in court today I would have removed my barbell jewelry from my nipples. Instead I am sure the judge and everyone else decided I was some kind of California slut.

“Ms. Sullivan, you may leave the nipple jewelry in for the time being,” advised the grinning judge as he drew attention to my situation while sipping his coffee as I blushed in embarrassment.

This was going to be humiliating. If Avery can keep her sense of self, winking at me after being masturbated to orgasm by her mother, then I can do this I thought to myself. I slipped off my heels and put them into the bag. Then I pulled down my thigh high stockings rolling each one down my firm legs and added them to my shoes in the bag. I then collected my dress and bra from the floor putting them in the bag.

Now I was standing naked in the courtroom with only my panties left. I took a deep breath and started pulling them down. I quickly realized that if I bent over I would be exposing my privates to the people sitting behind me so I did a weird little dance trying to get them to fall down my legs.
Sharon seeing my distress leaned over and yanked them down to my ankles and I stepped out of them with one hand over my vagina and my other arm across my breasts. Sharon scooped up my panties and dropped them into the bag. She added my purse after pulling out my cell phone and wallet.

“Collar,” said the bailiff in an authoritative voice.

I just stood there with one hand over my privates and the other over my breasts hunched over staring at him not comprehending what he wanted as he stood frowning at me while most people in the courtroom laughed at my situation.

“My client is from California, she never took slave yoga and is not familiar with slave commands,” advised Sharon, quickly figuring out what was wrong.

“Kimi, you get on your knees, keeping them wide apart, put your left hand on your hip and with your right hand pull your hair away from your neck so that the bailiff can put the collar on you,” she softly explained.

I was getting a crash course in slavery today. First I learned that slaves did not even control their own orgasms and now I was publicly learning my first slave position while naked in court. I awkwardly dropped to my knees moving into the correct position not believing that I was now naked in a public courtroom.

The bailiff rapidly secured the neon green collar to my neck, with the two prongs that dug into my neck. The click of the collar locking is a sound I will never forget, nor the sense of foreboding that went with the collar. After the collar was in place I stood up and watched the bailiff zip the bag containing my belongings closed, lock it and hand the key to Sharon along with the handcuffs and leash.

“Ms. Sullivan, I could not help but notice that you are sporting some vaginal jewelry which matches your navel and nipple jewelry. Like the nipple jewelry you may keep it on for the time being. The ensemble is really quite stunning. Is there a name for the vaginal pieces,” asked the judge trying to sound like an art aficionado as he drew additional attention to my predicament?

“It is called a Magic Cross. It is a combination of the vertical and horizontal clitoral hood piercings. Most girls refer to vaginal piercings as their hood ornaments,” I babbled while blushing, not knowing what else to say as I stood there naked on display as the crowd murmured in the background.

“Well you have very nice hood ornaments Ms. Sullivan. You may now leave the courtroom,” advised the smiling judge as he openly leered at my crotch.

Sharon grabbed me by the arm and quickly led me out of the courtroom and into the hallway where she slapped my hands that were covering my cunny and breasts telling me to stop that. When I started to protest she spun me around quickly handcuffing me hands behind my back while explaining I was not allowed to cover up when wearing the collar and she did not have time for this right now.

In the background I heard people walking by commenting on the new slave cunt, speculating how much I would bring at auction as a pleasure slut or how the circle start felon brand would look burned onto my ass. Most commenters had a common theme. I was destined to be a three-hole pleasure slut who would soon grow used to having my ass plundered on a regular basis and that over time I would learn to enjoy my new station in life as a sex toy for her betters.

I started crying as panic overtook me. Sharon attached the leash to my new collar and pulled me down the hallway to a vacant attorney room. I was in shock as I silently walked behind her tears streaming down my cheeks while she pulled out her phone and called someone named Lynne.

Next thing I know we are in a conference call with this Lynne Davidson person, Deanna Johnson, the Assistant Headmistress at the Broadstone Etiquette Academy located in Dallas, and Jean Mackey, the Assistant Headmistress at Cotillion. Sharon told me to honestly answer every question put to me.

Lynne started with how well I knew Avery and I explained in detail, even the sexual parts when questioned. When asked, I explained that I was submissive and Avery was dominant and that neither of us had figured out our sexual orientation, although Avery had much more luck than I finding guys that knew what they were doing in bed.

They then asked about my academic, professional and personal goals and I responded that I was in the architecture school with a 3.8 GPA with the goal of joining a large firm right out of school. My romantic life was limited by time spent studying and training for triathlons, as I previously mentioned I was still trying to figure out who I was sexually and did date a little but there was no one serious in my life.

Sharon covered her negotiating strategy and Lynne, Deanna and Jean all agreed to appear by Zoom in the judge’s chambers to discuss my future if needed. Both Deanna and Jean drafted letters that I would be accepted into either school if felony diversion was granted and if my future owner so decided. Lynne obtained my mother’s contact information and offered to talk to her about Broadstone since she was a graduate as was her eldest daughter. Now that was an interesting tidbit of information. I gladly accepted her kind offer as I was still learning about these schools and what they did.

Next they transitioned to FaceTime and I had to model naked for all of the women. They needed to be able to tell the judge that they had seen me naked and that I met the physical standards for their schools. Lynne even mentioned how well my stylish hood ornaments matched my nipple and navel piercings. When I started blushing she nonchalantly commented that all of us have them so it was no big deal. Well, today was full of surprises so that one should not shock me. Then the call ended.

Sharon told me to bend over the table while she put on some plastic gloves and pulled out a butt plug, not nearly as large as the one shoved into Avery. She lubed up my ass and gently but firmly pushed the plug home with little effort.

“Just a precaution in case you get indentured today,” she advised.

“Oh,” I moaned, as it easily slipped in giving me a pleasantly full feeling causing my pussy to start tingling.

“Not an anal virgin,” she giggled when it went in easily. I blushed again as I became more comfortable with her.

Then Sharon had her come to Jesus moment with me where I learned that she was a Broadstone graduate and that she had been through this herself. Sharon made it clear that I was a perfect candidate for Broadstone and Lynne would make sure I was purchased, so not to worry. I would likely be shipped with Amelia and Avery when I was done here. Hopefully I would end up in the same pod as Amelia and that I was to follow her instructions as she would help me get through my jail experience. Most importantly I was to cooperate with the bailiffs, whether it was an atonement session, getting branded or anything in between.

Branding! I realized I was going to have a brand burned into my skin and I started shaking in fear. Sharon gave me a big hug and said it was not that bad. It was just a moment of pain, and then it was over and she had four brands on her body. She told me that I would shed many tears of anguish and joy along my journey and that I was joining an elite sisterhood. She clarified that the phrase “Tears of Anguish and Joy” was the Broadstone motto and went on to explain that many female slaves looked at other female slaves as sisters in enslavement and amongst themselves commonly referring to each other as sisters.

Then Sharon asked me to invite her to my Broadstone graduation and my promising ceremony to which I agreed once I understood that the promising ceremony took place when my master was identified and I was promised to him. Sharon had an air of confidence that was infectious. She told me to volunteer to go first for the branding. It was easier to just walk up to the bench and get it over with and that it was not that bad.

Next it was calling my parents. That was hard with many tears. My Moms were upset and felt responsible for my current situation. Somehow I kept it together telling Nancy that I expected her to get well so that she could give me a hug when I regained my freedom. Sharon advised them that Lynne would call them and answer any question they might have about Broadstone and the consort program.

I did take Sharon’s advice confidently walking around the courthouse naked and not covering my parts with my hands. She had reminded me that I was smoking hot and that the women were jealous of my body and the men just wanted to use my body but could only look and not touch. It was still humiliating, but I tried not to let my embarrassment show trying to be strong like Avery. That woman would have put on a show proudly flaunting her body if she was in this same situation. The hardest part was not being treated as a person anymore, it was like a switch flipped when my clothes came off and the collar went on.

We went back into the courtroom after a quick bathroom break. It was my first time using a slave urinal, squatting over a hole in the floor to pee with my hands on my head as some free women walked by laughing at me. Sharon had to clean me since I was wearing a collar. It was so embarrassing having her wipe the urine from my legs and vagina as some free women denigrated me while others nodded sympathetically or gave me a thumbs up. Sharon just winked and smiled at me acting like it was no big deal.

When Sharon went into chambers I had to kneel with the slaves in a slave holding area, gagged, my collar chained to the ground and my hands cuffed behind my back, until she was done. She came back and told me the judge was thinking over his options and would rule this afternoon so we went downstairs to the snack bar for lunch. When I learned this might be the last real food I would eat for some time I picked the big chocolate chip cookie and a bottle of milk. Sharon giggled and got the same thing for herself saying she would be bad with me.

While waiting in the long line a woman in front of us asked Robin about my hood ornaments because she was considering getting some as a surprise wedding anniversary present for her husband. Robin engaged, providing a lively dissertation about the benefits of vaginal piercings explaining that not only did they look nice but also had practical applications which immediately garnered the interest of others in line.

Remember, I was standing naked, hands cuffed behind my back as this all took place while sporting an ensemble of body jewelry that the judge had correctly described as really quite stunning that also complemented my hapa ethnic hotness. Putting on this type of display was due to garner some unwanted attention I thought with a smirk. The humiliation of being naked with my jewelry on display was strangely arousing as my nipples hardened and pussy tingled.

Pointing to my Magic Cross, Robin explained that the horizontal clitoral hood (HCH) piece was primarily ornamental as this piercing goes through a pinch of hood tissue and rests on top of the hood, not the clitoris itself. She explained that my vertical clitoral hood (VCH) piercing, where the barbell passes through the clitoral hood vertically bearing down directly on the clitoris leads to increased stimulation which can be strengthened or weakened depending on the size of the ball and length of the bar. You even can find certain piercing balls—like rattle-bells—which are balls that contain a second internal ball which causes the outer ball to vibrate lightly enhancing the clitoral stimulation.

Then she rubbed my clit, stimulating it to “come out and play” as she put it, demonstrating how my VCH rubbed against my clit, enhancing my pleasure when in “slave heat”. Why did she have to use that term instead of aroused or stimulated? It just sounded so ominous as my pussy moistened. I hope nobody noticed the odor of my arousal.

Sharon went on to describe the Princess Diane which involves two piercings, to the left and right of the clitoris, which resembles the VHC running through the clitoral hood that stimulates both sides of the clitoris. She then described the Triangle and Deep piercings that stimulate the clitoris from behind.

The enthralled women in line listened as Sharon explained that her Magic Cross and Triangle piercings greatly increased her sexual pleasure during intercourse with her husband. What husband doesn’t want a wife that can be a slave hot sexy slut in the bedroom for them she asked? Then she warned them to expect to be over stimulated for two to four weeks while they became accustomed to the new sensations from their hood ornaments laughing that her husband did not get much sleep those weeks immediately following installation.

So there I was waiting in line for a chocolate chip cookie and milk while Robin continued her lecture while a number of women and one man bent over closely examining my hood ornaments. With my now stimulated clit the VCH was doing its job as I squirmed in arousal while being inspected much to the amusement of the free men and women in line. Some even wanted pictures of my hood ornaments. Finally, we placed our order purchasing our cookies and milk.

We took our lunch back to the attorney room. The elevator ride was awful, a young lawyer grabbed my ass, easily worming a finger into my slippery pussy. My yelp of surprise soon became a moan of pleasure. Sharon swatted his hand away advising him that even though I was naked the neon green collar indicated that I was still a free woman who could be the victim of a sexual battery. Furthermore, he would find himself naked getting flogged on the front steps of the courthouse if convicted. He started apologizing profusely and it turned out he was a new Deputy District Attorney unfamiliar with the rules. Sharon let him off the hook with a warning as she pulled my hair up in a high ponytail making my neon green collar more visible to avoid mistakes like this.

In the attorney room we ate our cookies and milk while we waited until it was time to go back and see what the judge had decided. Sharon buoyed my spirits, regaling me with stories about her life, her husband and two children, and how her slavery had worked out for the best.

Sharon expounded that she was a proud Broadstone graduate wearing a necklace with a Broadstone “B” pendant identifying her as a graduate that also matches the brand on her right buttock. Many older women were embarrassed by their enslavement while her peers, like her, embraced it.

“Broadstone and my slavery shaped who I am today. I entered the school as a shy, scared girl and emerged a strong, confident woman. You will learn that poise and good deportment can be cultivated while there. Only about twenty percent of the curriculum is related to sexual skills while the rest focusses on various life skills,” she smiled. “I am a sexy hot Sandy Foot Girl that knows how to rock my man’s world, a good mother and a damned good attorney to boot and proud of all of those accomplishments,” Robin stated with a confident smile.

“How do you reconcile becoming a strong confident woman while also being a slave?” I asked as this seemed a real contradiction.

“A successful man needs an intelligent partner as a wife that compliments the man’s strengths, not a piece of arm candy that cannot think. One who can publicly hold her own at social and business functions. Broadstone only takes intelligent women into the program while teaching them a number of skills that make them more confident and poised. You should expect to return to Rice to complete your degree and go on to become a successful architect,” she continued.

“This is just a lot to absorb right now. I mean who sends a slave back to college? How does the master decide to pick me over the next girl?” I asked.

“Remember, you will be a consort and not a common slave. Please trust me and the process. Most importantly trust Amelia. She was responsible for putting me through Broadstone and matching me with my husband. She can help you through this process,” Sharon confided while taking my hand in hers and giving it a nice reassuring squeeze.

Sharon was great at calming my nerves and giving me the confidence to get through the day. I still had many questions that needed answers. Next thing I knew it was time to go back to court.

It was about 3:30 pm when my case was finally called and it went exactly as Sharon had predicted. I accepted the proffered two-year felony diversion program, was designated a pleasure slut consort which meant no public atonements but, there would be law enforcement atonement sessions and corporal punishment. I was to be held at the jail facility and would be transported with the other two inmates going to Broadstone when their local term was completed. Finally, the judge ordered my branding forthwith and it was over.

When the bailiff ordered “collar” this time I moved quickly into position on my knees. The bailiff removed my neon green collar replacing it with a temporary inmate collar. He had me stand and ordered “backhands” and I complied, getting officially handcuffed for real for the first time. Well not really the first time in cuffs since Avery had used her handcuffs on me a few times during our play dates and Sharon briefly put some on me earlier today. It was just different, with an air of finality as they clicked on my wrists when the bailiff put them on.

Then I stood there as Sharon efficiently removed all of my jewelry, demonstrating her familiarity with hood ornaments, and placed it all in a small envelope for safekeeping while everyone in the courtroom watched. Sharon looked at me kindly while holding me at arm’s reach and then pulled me in for a big hug

“Sister, remember tears of agony and joy await you as you join an elite sisterhood at Broadstone. Be strong,” she whispered.

The bailiff led me over to the jury box railing in exactly the same spot as Avery was in this morning. He pulled out the Ledbetter special and lubed it up. When he went to lube my ass he discovered the plug Sharon had put in earlier today. He muttered, “Smart girl,” under his breath as he removed it and dropped it into the trash when Sharon indicated she did not want it back. I let out a little “eep” when he inserted the larger Ledbetter plug but had no difficulty taking it thanks to Sharon’s foresight.

Next another bailiff led me through the jail complex to intake for in processing that started with an unpleasant body cavity search although the nice part was the removal of the Ledbetter special. Then I received my inmate collar as a sentenced prisoner. I was now inmate 912. After getting my birth control shot from the nurse it was off to the shower room for branding prep, whatever that entailed.

The bailiff turned me over to Hannah, the trustee responsible for ensuring inmates were cleaned inside and out for their brandings. Hannah must have been around sixty-five and was slave naked wearing the same collar as adorned me. Interestingly she sported the same V brand as I saw on Avery’s mother’s ass. After a quick bathroom break Hannah secured my hands behind my back, attached a chain pulling them gently upward. She then leaned forward to whisper in my ear as she forced me to bend forward until my torso was perpendicular to the floor, as she gently nudged my feet apart.

“Are you Avery’s friend from college?” she asked and I nodded yes in reply.

“Don’t go anywhere, I need to talk to that bailiff over there,” she chuckled, indicating the guard by the door.

Like I was going anywhere bent over with my hands secured to the chain in this very demeaning and uncomfortable position. After a short conversation the bailiff smiled at Hannah, and made some entries on what looked like an iPad and Hannah came back over to me.

“You will be staying in my pod for your stay here. Old Hannah needs something cute and soft to cuddle with at night to keep her warm,” she laughed. In a softer voice she told me I had been moved to Avery’s pod.

Hannah then removed my Ledbetter plug and talked me through the enema process. Her thoughtfulness made the unpleasant colon cleansing bearable and soon it was into the showers where I shaved off my last tuft of pubic hair leaving my kitty bald. Hannah then had me bend over and she took care of the hard to reach area around my anus.

Then it was drying my hair and applying some makeup, I am not sure why the need for makeup for my branding but I went along as directed. The worst part was when Hannah rubbed in the bleaching cream onto my rosebud. That really stung like a bitch for five minutes. Next thing I knew Hannah was done with me and led me over to the door and turned me over to the bailiff.

Then it was off to a holding cell with all the other inmates that were sentenced today getting their brands “forthwith”. Thankfully I did not have long to wait as the bailiffs soon put us into a coffle. They led us out to the punishment arena where we were all secured to poles with our hands restrained over our heads, visible to the crowd that was forming as we faced the branding station.

I looked around and every slave’s fear and apprehension was evident on their faces as they were on display under the bright lights. When a bailiff jokingly asked if there were any volunteers who wanted to go first I quickly volunteered following Sharon’s advice, shocking both the bailiffs and my fellow inmates.

A female bailiff sidled up to me engaging me in conversation while we waited for the event to start. Her name tag identified her as Bailiff Austin. First she confirmed that I wanted to “volunteer” to go first and when I reaffirmed my request she said she would take me up first.

“Why do you want to go first?” asked Bailiff Austin.

“My attorney told me it was best. She was a former slave and said that the branding was ‘just a moment of pain, and then it was over’ so I should just get it over with. I am from California and have never seen a human being branded and assumed that it was painful,” I naively explained.

My response left a bemused look on her face. She looked like she was about to say something, thought better of it and then changed her mind, smiling and shaking her head.

“You look like a girl I raced against in the SPA Girl Tri in early May. Were you in that race?” she asked.

Talk about changing topics.

“I came in twelfth at that race,” I answered proudly.

“Eighth here, you were way ahead after the swim and I had to work really hard on the bike to catch you,” she responded. “The girl that came in third is an inmate here.”

“Her name is Avery and she is my training partner. I nicknamed her Wonder Woman after our first race freshman year. We have been training together for almost two years now,” I babbled.

We chatted about triathlons, how we became involved in the sport, why we loved it, and the different races we had competed in. It was really weird standing naked with my hands bound over my head talking about triathlon race and training strategies while waiting to receive my circle star brand. But that is what happened and then I knew it was time when Bailiff Austin reached above my head releasing me from the pole and secured my hands behind my back.

Bailiff Austin had a serious look on her face and an empathetic look in her eyes. She just wanted me to focus on her voice and to tune out the crowd which is what I did. As Bailiff Austin walked me towards the branding station like a calf to slaughter she told me to follow her instructions and she would get me through this as quickly as possible. I strode up to the branding station without pause, placing my knees on the padding and leaned forward as the bailiffs quickly strapped me into position.

Next Bailiff Austin told me to open my mouth and she secured a worn bite stick gag with teeth marks on it in place in my mouth telling it was for my own safety. “Why was this needed for my safety,” I naively wondered. I could see myself on the monitors to my front with an embarrassingly silly grin that the bite stick lodged in my mouth gave me accompanied by a worried look on my face.

My most private parts were on vulgar display for the audience on another monitor and I started blushing in embarrassment. I mean there was a close-up of my vagina and asshole on the big screen above me! Bailiff Austin wiped an antiseptic wipe onto the inside of my right buttock which felt strangely cold as she applied it while advising me that it would prevent infection in a reassuring voice.

I looked forward, saw the light on this pot turn green, and heard it emanate a simultaneous chime. Another bailiff opened the pot and withdrew a rod with a glowing one-inch white circle-star brand at the end and walked behind me. I can do this, remembering Sharon’s words, “It was just a moment of pain, and then it was over,” and soon mine will be over too, I thought to myself blissfully ignorant to the extent of the pain that I was about to experience. Bailiff Austin calmly told me she was pulling my cheeks apart as I felt them pulled apart readying me for the brand.

I felt the heat of the brand as the bailiff positioned it behind me and then he quickly applied it to the sensitive skin on the inside of my right buttock. The searing heat initiated pain that screamed through every cell in my body as I strained against the straps holding me in place. I had never felt pain like this before as the brand was held against my flesh for what felt like an eternity while in reality I knew it was only seconds. My breath was knocked out of my lungs. I heard a loud audible moan escape my lips through the bite stick as I tried to chew through it. I felt tears flow down my cheeks as I peed myself as my vision blurred and I passed out realizing with my last thought being that I had just peed in front of a crowd.

I regained consciousness hearing Bailiff Austin’s voice say, “Breathe, take a deep breath,” as her hand on my head gently shook me back to full consciousness. I tried to control my breathing as I listened to Bailiff Austin soothingly tell me that a painkilling lotion would be rubbed into the wound to help make the pain go away. Then true to her word a cool ointment was spread on my injury dulling the pain, followed by the application of an aerosol bandage.

Bailiff Austin removed the bite stick as I was released from my bonds. I now understood why it was needed for my safety as I could easily have bitten my tongue off. Strong hands pulled me to my feet and turned me facing the audience that was jeering and taunting the freshly branded new slave cunt. I was shaky on my feet, stumbling as Bailiff Austin held one arm helping me keep my balance as she helped me walk delicately back to my pole where she secured my hands over my head.

“Thank you,” I said to her.

“For what,” she responded, a puzzled look on her face.

“It was just a moment of pain, and then it was over my ass. That hurt like hell and you kept me calm thinking it would not be that bad,” I replied

“You were ignorantly blissful asking to go first. Who was I to disabuse you of that? Look around you, anytime I can get an inmate to not fight it is a win-win for everyone, plus we triathletes need to stick together,” she said, winking at me and walking away.

I watched as many of the inmates tried to fight the Bailiffs getting hurt in the process as they tried to prevent their branding. None of them succeeded. Sharon had helped me, going first and getting it over with was a really good idea.

The smell of burned flesh and urine permeated the stage after the second branding was completed. It is a smell that I will likely never forget. That smell and pain will likely haunt my dreams for years to come. I am sure I would have been freaked out by the time it was my turn after watching my fellow inmates get their brands, likely struggling with the bailiffs. The pain was unlike anything I had ever felt before but was now just a throbbing ache after the ointment deadened it.

As I stood there with my hands cuffed to the pole over my head I contemplated my future wondering what the next few years had in store for me. There is nothing like being branded to cement the reality that your station in life has changed for the worse. The potential of two years as a pleasure slut with no control over how my body was used now terrified me. Who would Kimiko Sullivan become after two years of sexual abuse I wondered? Could I ever return to my former life?

In contrast the consort program had sounded so appealing at the time as an alternative to becoming a sex slave. But was it?

The Broadstone was going to groom me as a mate for life for some man! Then it dawned on me the permanence of this arrangement would shape my destiny, charting a course for my life that I no longer controlled. I would be matched with a man, my future husband that I would spend the rest of my years with while raising a family. The concept of motherhood was alien to me at this stage of my life. Just like the brand that I would wear forever this decision would follow me forward into perpetuity.

When it was over the bailiffs escorted us back into the jail dropping me off at my new home which consisted of a large cell that had twenty bunks, two open-air toilet holes and sinks. There was Hannah waiting for us. She gave each of us a bag of slave kibble, some water and a blanket. She told us to eat and find a bunk. Winking, she told us that we could pair up with another inmate to keep warm with through the night if we liked. It would be lights out in three hours. Hanna then took my hand telling me to follow her and she led me to a bunk in the back corner where Avery was sitting with her mother.

I let out a squeal flying into Avery’s arms and lost it, the floodgates opened up and I was sobbing out of control as she held me in her arms until I calmed down. The warmth of her body and the familiarity of her strong arms embracing me were comforting. For a brief moment I felt safe, and most importantly I knew I was no longer alone.

“My Princess,” I whispered in her ear.
(To be continued)

[Carl Bradford]

Your writing just keeps getting better! I particularly enjoyed the details of your brief description of Kimiko in the "slave holding area" and when Hannah bent her over for prep. Excellent!