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Message-ID: <27799asstr$976392603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: rodlong15@aol.com (Rodlong15)
Subject: {ASSM} Song of the South pt 2  (anal, interr, nc, sodomy)
Date: Sat,  9 Dec 2000 15:10:03 -0500
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Song of the South, pt. 2
(mf, interr, nc, anal, sodomy)

Usual disclaimers:  This is a work of fantasy and includes graphic sexual
imagery.  If this offends you, please stop reading now.

***
The Honorable Horace Goodlow, presiding judge of the city and county of
Ambrosia, used the flat of his right hand to smooth his hair.  He admired his
reflection in the mirror, his black robes, his shiny gold-rimmed glasses, his
lacquered-in-place hair.  He had lived in Ambrosia for forty-nine of his
fifty-two years, his only absence a three-year stint at one of the minor state
colleges.  He possessed little imagination, less curiosity, and a law degree
from a mail-order diploma mill.  He owed his position to his life-long
friendship with the sheriff and an uncanny ability to change any belief in
order to suit to the prevailing opinion of those in power.  He was a spineless
moral coward, and he chose to exorcise his bile and self-loathing on those
unfortunates who came before his bench.  He was not about to become a man of
principle, since his conformity and toadyism had given him everything he had,
including his wife MaryAnn, a statuesque blond twenty-five years his junior. 
She was a woman of such beauty and physical allure that she would have been a
shoo-in as the state beauty queen but for an interview performance so inane and
vapid, even by beauty pageant standards, that she dropped to second runner-up. 
This was in spite of the fact that she had provided swallow-and-smile bj's to
five of the seven judges.

While Horace Goodlow prepared to ascend to the bench, that same MaryAnn, clad
only in an elaborate garter belt and stocking set and black high heels, was on
all fours in their bed, ass in the air and face buried in a pillow to smother
her screams as Jerome Dickey squatted over her and plunged his stiff ebony cock
into her gaping bunghole.  Jerome took his time and enjoyed each stroke,
feeling his throbbing manhood slide down her greased shit chute.  He pulled out
until only the bulbous tip was inside the rubbery ring of her sphincter, then
thrust forward until the root of his prick was lodged against her anus. 
MaryAnn pounded the mattress with her fists, her blond hair damp with sweat. 
Jerome's muscular ass rocked back and forth as he plowed her back door.  As he
pumped, he smacked her round, upturned ass with the flat of his hand, shouting,
"C'mon bitch.  C'mon."  Her ass already glowed a bright red.  Jerome continued
the spanking until he felt the tingling sensation in his loins.  He pulled out,
steadied himself and fired scalding jets of sperm into MaryAnn's yawning
asshole, coating her bowels with his seed.  He shook the last of his jizz off
his dick and collapsed onto the bed.

MaryAnn remained head down, ass up.  Sweat trickled through her hair.  She
moaned and whimpered.  Jerome took her like this three mornings a week.  He
reached over and pushed her over onto her side, then rose to his knees and
swung his leg over, straddling her neck.  His pendulous manhood swung just
above her red lips.

"Hey, bitch," he said.  "My dick's dirty.  Whyn't you clean it up."  He dipped
his penis toward her mouth.  MaryAnn opened up and received it, cleaning his
member with her tongue.  As she tongued his dick Jerome reached behind him to
pull and twist her nipples.

"Okay," he said as he pulled out.  "Why don't you get me something to drink?"

"Okay," she said, scrambling out of bed.  "Let me get my robe."

"Naw," he said.  "Go like that."

"Like this?"  She made a gesture that took in her body from her round,
pink-tipped boobs to her flat stomach, from the tiny, carefully manicured
triangle of black hair above her slit to the long, shapely legs encased in
seamed black stockings.

"Just like that," he said.  She did not reply, but turned and left the room. 
He smiled, watching her tits and ass jiggle as she walked away, the residue of
his cum trickling out of her asshole and down her thighs.

***

Judge Goodlow's morning had been uneventful, a string of minor traffic offenses
and petty vandalism.  The most serious case had taken all of ten minutes to
dispose.

Bailiff Tate announced, "Case number 2442, the people versus Tami Landers." 
The judge perked up as Tami Landers was brought before him.  She was pure white
trash, from the white-blond-with-visible-dark-roots dye job to the heavy eye
makeup to the gum she kept snapping.  She was tall, with full breasts straining
the orange jail coveralls.  Her hips were rounded and her legs long, long
enough that the coverall ended a few inches higher than intended, revealing a
circle of thorns tattooed around one ankle.

Bailiff Tate read the charge-malicious mischief.  Unfortunately for Tami, it
was her third bust.  State law declared a maximum sentence of eighteen months
in jail.  Judge Goodlow turned to the public defender.  "How does your client
plead?" he asked.

The public defender, a willowy blond in a tailored black suit, glanced up from
a folder.  "Guilty, your honor, with special circumstances," she said.

"I see," Goodlow said.  "Bailiff Tate, would you escort the prisoner back to
holding.  We'll dispose of the case after special circumstances have been
considered.  Next case."

Four more incidents, three of them involving red lights, and the morning was
through.  Goodlow announced, "Court is recessed for lunch.  Reconvene in ninety
minutes."  He banged his gavel and the half-dozen spectators climbed to their
feet and shuffled out.  Judge Goodlow went into his chambers.

Tami Landers and the public defender were already in the room, ushered in by
the bailiff.  Goodlow sat down behind his desk before he spoke.

"Counselor," he said, "does your client understand the special circumstances
clause completely?"

"Yes your honor."

"And she has no objections?"

The PD glanced at her client and smirked.  "None of any consequence, you
Honor."

"Very well.  Counselor, you may leave."  The public defender nodded and left
the room.  Goodlow stood up, opening the middle drawer of his desk.  Tami
looked down at the floor, her jaws working.  "Young lady," he said, "get rid of
that gum right now."  She took the gum out and held it in her hand.  "Put it in
the trash can," he ordered.  "Now, you know what to do next."

Still looking at the floor, Tami grabbed the zipper on her coveralls and
dragged it down.  The orange material peeled away, the resulting gap revealing
a cheap leopard-print bra encasing a striking pair of titties and a firm, flat
stomach.  The zipper bottomed out just below the waistband of a pair of panties
that matched the bra.  Goodlow's penis snapped to attention when he saw the
small rose tattoo on the right side of her abdomen, the stem disappearing
beneath the waistband.  As she shrugged out of the coveralls, Goodlow came
around the desk, clutching the long wooden paddle he kept in the drawer.  Tami
looked at him, a glimmer of fear in her eyes.  The fear sent blood rushing to
his crotch.

"Bend over," he said, gesturing at the conference table.  Tami put her hands on
the table, her ass sticking out.  Goodlow brought the paddle around in a swift
arc, catching her just above the wrists and knocking her arms away.  She
flopped onto the table, her chin hitting it with enough force to make her teeth
click.  Goodlow stood over her, his left hand pressing her head down.  She was
breathing fast, real fear mixed with shock and pain in her eyes.  The judge
could feel his pulse thumping in his boner.  He rubbed the paddle on the girl's
exposed ass.

"When I say 'bend over'," he hissed, "I mean 'bend over'."  He raised his
voice.  "Bailiff!"  Tate entered the room through the private door.  Goodlow
looked up at him, an evil grin on his smarmy face.  "This prisoner is
recalcitrant.  I believe we need the shackles."

Tate went to the liquor cabinet and opened the bottom compartment.  Tami
Landers sniffled as Tate came back carrying the special shackles.  Within
seconds manacles ran from her wrists over the top of the table and underneath
to fasten to her ankles.  Horace Goodlow stepped back and licked his lips.

"I think we'll begin with twenty," he said.  "Bailiff, you can remain if you
wish."  Tate assumed an at-rest position just inside the door.  Goodlow reached
back and brought the paddle whistling down.  Tami Landers cried out as it
cracked against her firm, fleshy butt cheeks.  By the fifth stroke she was
crying openly; by the tenth she was begging for mercy.  At the twentieth she
was broken, no longer a sullen would-be tough girl, but a crying, pleading
teenager.  Goodlow placed the paddle down on the table beside her.  Leaning
over, he whispered in her ear, "That was a good start."

He grabbed the length of extra chain attached to the left ankle cuff and
attached it to a leg of the table.  He repeated the process with her left leg. 
The chain wasn't very long, so Tami's legs were splayed out, toes pointing
down, muscles quivering with the tension.  Goodlow pried her ass cheeks apart
with his left hand, exposing her sphincter to his lecherous gaze.

"Please, sir, don't," Tami sobbed as she felt the middle finger of his right
hand poking at her back door.  "Please, sir I'll be good, I won't do nothin',
just please don't--"  Goodlow thrust his finger inside her.  "Ahhhhhh!!!" she
cried.  Goodlow worked his finger back and forth until he felt her rectum
loosen, whereupon he shoved a second finger into her.  This brought another
gasp from the bawling girl.  When he could work up a rhythm with both fingers,
Goodlow withdrew his hand.

"Bailiff," he said, "bring me that tube from my washroom."  As Tate returned
with a tube of KY Jelly, Goodlow noticed the tent in front of his trousers. 
"Bailiff," he said, "if you need some relief, feel free."  Tate, a burly
six-footer with a hard, protruding gut and jug ears, immediately unzipped his
pants and let his impressive pecker feel the air.  Goodlow picked up the paddle
and applied the lubricant to its handle in liberal amounts.  Tami's wails had
subsided somewhat, but they rose again in pitch and intensity when the judge
placed the wooden handle against her anus and thrust it home.

It took a while to work the entire length of the handle into the girl's pooper;
the paddle was a two-hander, after all.  Finished, he stepped back to admire
his handiwork.  Tami sprawled across the table, bountiful titties mashed
against the polished wood, stretched legs shaking, the hard oaken paddle
protruding from the cleft between her buttocks.  A puddle of tears and mucus
had collected beneath her head and her ragged sobs contained no pleas for
mercy, only resignation.  Now, Judge Goodlow unfastened his pants and removed
them, his cock springing upright.  Taking up a position behind the girl, he
gave the paddle a light slap.  She twitched as the handle wiggled in her
intestines.

"Now, you remember this, next time you want to break some windows, young lady,"
the judge drawled.  It took some doing, but he was experienced at this and he
was able to position his hard-on at the opening of her twat and thrust home. 
He enjoyed this, because the position was awkward enough that he wouldn't come,
and he could swear that he could feel the rigid length of the handle through
the membrane that separated her vagina from her anal canal.

When he tired of that position, he stepped back and, grasping the paddle with
both hands, pulled it free of her poop chute.  Tami shuddered as it came free. 
Her asshole gaped open.  Goodlow replaced the paddle with his dick, humping her
ass for all he was worth.  Her tits wobbled beneath her as he pumped away. 
Pulling out, he came around the table and stood in front of her.

"Bailiff," he commanded, "could you be of assistance?"  Tate came forward,
erection swinging, and grabbed Tami by the hair.  He ranked up, raising her to
face the judge's throbbing tool.  His other hand reached out to stroke the
judge's erection.  Goodlow threw his head back and blasted a thick, hot load
all over the girl's tear-stained face.  Tate released his prick when the judge
finished.  Stepping back, Goodlow smoothed his hair and turned to the bailiff.

"Thank you," he said.  "If you're of a mind, you can relieve yourself."  As he
buttoned up his judicial robe, Goodlow watched the bailiff take his position
behind the girl and begin ramming his pecker into her.

***

End part 2

What do you think?

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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