index


Message-ID: <49726asstr$1100441402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Comment: DomainKeys? See http://antispam.yahoo.com/domainkeys
DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; q=dns; c=nofws;
  s=s1024; d=yahoo.com;
  b=GZiyiIdmaAxbmXmItJGPuBc7V+j4v+8dy/InGA6au/EGR0jrK40Tqp1/+flrhDDvWeohLKbrIo/XEFFthOENF8k/lxIfHyNKSXvfJsTMoutypWPoqCRbqeN0ztev/I5dPTidlV4VaCx3StU+H4qouzIyTlyjx1Z5K1mCPzyzJzU=  ;
From: Neal <bboy4x@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Hard Time for Rashanta 1/3 {Neal} (WM/BF WF/BF bd ds humil inc interr nc ws}
Lines: 2909
Date: Sun, 14 Nov 2004 09:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Rashanta Wallace, an ambitious career minded black woman, finds herself
arrested on trumped up charges and is imprisoned while on a business
trip.  She is humiliated, degraded, and sexually abused by corrupt
officals and authorities.

CAUTION:  The "n" word is used liberally.


		
__________________________________ 
Do you Yahoo!? 
Check out the new Yahoo! Front Page. 
www.yahoo.com 
 

<1st attachment, "Rashanta1.txt" begin>

Hard Time for Rashanta


Chapter 1 - Busted


The noise of the propellers had been a constant drone.  Rashanta
Wallace looked out the window of the commuter airplane as it taxied up
to the terminal of the small airport.  This was the last leg of her
journey and it had been a long day.  Two connecting flights each with
an hour lay over.  The tall slender black woman was getting tired and
brushed her long braided hair out of her face as she stood to get her
bag from the overhead compartment.

She dis-embarked down a stairway and walked with the other passengers
across the tarmac into the terminal.  She was already overly warm in
her business suit, gray jacket and skirt, white blouse, stockings, and
black leather flats.  Ordinarily she'd wear heels with this outfit,
but preferred the flats for travel.  The late afternoon sun was still
hot and further aggravated her.  This was nothing like the big city
airport she'd left this morning.

Rashanta had just claimed her other luggage when her cell phone rang.

"Wallace here," she answered, always the busy professional.

"Hi, baby!" said the voice on the other end.  "It's Tyrone."

She sighed heavily.  "Ty, why are you calling me?  I thought I'd made
things pretty clear to you."

"Don't be that way, baby!" Tyrone pleaded.  "I figured you jus' needed
some time to think things through.  Then you'd see it my way."

"Don't 'baby' me!" Rashanta scolded.  "I told you this isn't going to
work.  I'm only thirty one and I'm not ready to settle down.  I have a
career!  I have a good job.  I worked hard to be one of the senior
buyers for the biggest chain on the coast.  I'm not going to throw it
all away so I can cook your meals and have your babies!"

"I'm sorry, Shanta," he responded.  "I didn't mean for it to sound
that way.  You gotta give me a chance to explain."

"Look," she said, "I've had a long trip.  I've only been on the ground
for a few minutes.  I'm tired.  I just don't feel like dealing with
you now.  I'm going on vacation right after this trip.  Maybe I'll
call you when I get back."

"Don't make me wait that long!" he begged.

"That's the way it has to be," she said with finality.  "I gotta go."

She clicked the 'end' button before he had a chance to go on.  What a
pest, she thought.

Rashanta made her way across the terminal to the car rental desk.  A
young white woman turned to wait on her.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Rashanta, "I've got a reservation for a car.  A Lexus.
The name is Wallace.  R. Wallace."

The white girl clicked on her keyboard and peered into the monitor
that was on the desk.

"Ok, I see your name here," she informed her.  "But we don't have no
Lexus.  I have two Fords.  An Escort or a Taurus."

"That can't be right, miss," the black woman replied, peeved.  "I made
a reservation.  I've got a long drive still and I don't want to do it
in one of those shit boxes!"

"Sorry," the clerk replied, not sorry.  "That's what we got.  Take it
or leave it."

"Well, I don't have much choice then," sighed Rashanta.  "I'll take
the big one."

"Ok, hang on," said the clerk.

The white girl picked up the phone on the desk and punched two
numbers.

"Ray?" she said into the phone while looking right at the black woman.
"Bring the Taurus up.  There's a 'lady' here who'll be taking it."

The clerk pushed some papers across the desk to her.

"Fill these out and we'll have you set to go," she said.

Rashanta didn't like the girl's tone at all.  She fumed as she filled
out the rental agreement.  She was just finishing as Ray arrived and
put the car keys on the counter.

"If there's nothing else, I'll just get going now," said the black
woman.

She scooped up the keys and headed for the glass door Ray had just
entered through.  She could see the car outside.

"We're not through here, lady!" called the clerk.

Rashanta ignored her, put her bags in the trunk, and climbed in.  She
wasn't about to take any more disrespect from these menial clerks.
The black woman started the motor and drove off towards the exit from
the airport.

A few miles down the interstate she started to calm down and realized
she hadn't picked up a map in her rush to get out of the airport.  A
light went on on the dash board.  Low fuel.  Damn! she thought.
Didn't those fools fill up the tank?  The next exit sign showed food,
gas, and lodging available.  She pointed the car down the ramp which
ended in a T at a state highway.  The sign for gas had an arrow
pointing to the right.  She turned right and proceeded on.

The sign hadn't indicated how far to the gas station and after several
miles she began to wonder if there was one at all.  Finally it
appeared up ahead.  She pulled up to the pump, shut off the engine,
and waited.

After a few minutes a young white man in greasy overalls emerged from
the station.

"It's self serve," he called out to her.

Rashanta rolled down the window.

"Self serve!" she exclaimed.  "The sign says full service!  I'm not
dressed to pump gas!"

The white man shrugged and went back inside.

Asshole! she thought.  Rashanta got out of the car and went to the
pump and slid her credit card though the slot and opened the gas cap
on the car.  She could see the white man, kid really, watching her
from inside the station with a smirk on his face while she topped off
the tank and put the hose back on the pump.

It was almost dark now.  Rashanta realized she'd wasted alot of time
already on this side trip and pressed the accelerator down.  It would
take at least ten minutes just to get back to the interstate.

The black woman was surprised when the flashing blue lights suddenly
came on behind her.  She knew she'd been speeding and pulled over.
The police car pulled in behind her.  She'd gotten out of tickets
before, she thought.  She undid a couple more buttons on her blouse to
show off plenty of skin for the cop.  Worked every time.

Rashanta waited nervously as the uniformed man approached the car and
shone a flash light in at her.  She blinked and squinted at the
brightness of it.  But she smiled suggestively and turned slightly
towards the window to make sure he got a good eyeful.  She rolled the
window down.

The cop looked to be no more than twenty years old.  Tall and athletic
looking he didn't look too intelligent.  He wore a badge that
indicated he was a deputy sheriff and a name tag that said Lewis.

"License and registration," he said and stood waiting as he looked at
the black woman.  "This is a forty five mile per hour zone.  You were
doing sixty six."

"I'm so sorry, officer," she said, smiling, her blouse open
sufficiently to show off her bra.  "I must have lost track how fast I
was going.  I hope you'll forgive me."

This act had worked in the past, she thought.  Horny white cop wasn't
going to give a pretty black girl a ticket.  Not when she showed him
so much flesh.  She got her license out of her purse and handed it
over.  Suddenly she remembered storming away from the rental desk
without the papers.

"I, uh, don't have the registration," she stammered.  "It's a rental
car and they forgot to give me the papers."

She smiled sweetly again and reached down to hike her skirt up a
little to show the deputy some leg.

"Step out of the car, miss," he ordered.

"But, officer!" she protested.  "This is just a silly
misunderstanding!  Surely there's no need for this."

"I said get out of the car, girl," he repeated forcefully.

Rashanta opened the door and climbed out, placing her hands on her
hips.

"Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.  "Girl?  Are you talking to me
that way?  You need to learn how to treat people with more respect or
you'll end up in trouble!"

"Turn around, hands on the car," ordered the deputy sternly.

"What?" Rashanta said, surprised.

"Turn around, girl," he repeated.  "I'm not asking.  I'm telling you.
Now do it."

The black woman started go get scared now.  She was alone, a thousand
miles from home, on a dark two lane highway.  She turned around and
placed her hands on the roof of the car.  She felt his hands frisk her
down, lingering over he breasts and ass.  She felt her face hot with
shame at this indignity.  Then he slapped the first cuff on one wrist.

"What are you doing?" she cried out, turning towards him.  "Don't you
dare handcuff me!  Do you realize how much trouble you're getting
yourself in for?  I'll sue the shit out of you and your two bit
country ass town!"

"Shut up," he ordered her.  "We can do this easy or we can do this
hard.  It's up to you.  I'm bringing you in so we can get to the
bottom of all this.  It's standard procedure in cases like this.
Don't make me hurt you."

"You're going to regret this," she warned him, her voice shaking.

Rashanta stopped struggling, though.  She stood passively while he
finished cuffing her hands behind her back.  The deputy forcefully
walked her to the patrol car, placing her in the back seat, and
closing the door.  He climbed in the front and got on the radio.

"Base, this is twelve," he said into the microphone.

"Go ahead, Lewis," came the voice on the radio.

"I've got a negro female in custody," said the deputy.  "Speeding and
driving without a registration.  I'm bringing her in now.  Send the
truck to mile-post one oh seven and bring in the white Ford Taurus
there."

"Roger that," crackled the radio.  "Base out."

"This is all a mistake, officer," Rashanta said in a small voice.
"I'll cooperate.  Please take these cuffs off.  They're hurting me."

"It's procedure, girl," he stated.

Deputy Lewis started the patrol car and made a u turn, heading back
the way she had come.  Rashanta was both scared and angry, but sat
quietly the rest of the way to the sheriff's office.

They arrived shortly at the sheriff's office, a non-descript one story
brick building.  The deputy parked the car next to where several other
patrol cars were parked in the lot and climbed out.  He opened the
back door and roughly pulled Rashanta out, causing her blouse to
stretch and pop another button.  She blushed with embarrassment at the
exposure.

"Can you let me loose from these now?" she asked.

"No," he replied.  "No talking."

The deputy opened the door to the building and pushed Rashanta in
ahead of him.  The room was large and filled with a maze of desks.  He
led her through them and sat her on a long wooden bench on the
opposite side of the room from the door.

"Don't move, girl," he warned her.  "I've got to start the paper
work."

Rashanta sat quietly on the bench, the handcuffs growing more
uncomfortable by the minute.  Other deputies and people with business
at the sheriff's office passed by her and looked her over.  Her
unbuttoned blouse certainly drew alot of attention.  She was
humiliated by being put on display this way.

Deputy Lewis returned and took her to a small room.  There was a table
with a telephone and tape recorder on it.  A few straight back wooden
chairs were around the table.  A big mirror was on one wall.  There
were no windows.  He put her in one of the chairs and sat in one on
the opposite side of the table from her.

"The rental agency says you took the car before they could run your
credit card," he stated, sounding official.  "They're pressing
charges.  I'm placing you under arrest on a charge of grand theft,
auto.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say can and
will be used against you in a court of law..."

Rashanta sat stunned as the deputy recited her rights to her.  She
couldn't believe this was happening to her.  She was really scared
now.

"Do you understand these rights?" he asked perfunctorily.

"Yes," she said in a small voice, her bravado completely gone.  "This
is all a terrible mistake.  I was just in a hurry!  That's all."

"You get one phone call," the deputy continued.  "After that you'll be
processed and placed in the holding cell.  What number do you want to
call?"

Rashanta gave him Tyrone's number to dial.  He'd help her, even if
only to get her to change her mind about moving in with him.  She
listened to it ring.

"Hello?" answered Tyrone.

"Hi, Ty," she said.  "It's Shanta.  I need your help.  There was a
mixup with the car rental and I've been arrested!  They think I stole
the rental car!"

"Damn, Shanta, that sucks," said the voice on the phone.  "But, why
are you callin' me?  I thought you didn't want to have anythin' more
to do with me."

"I'm in a jam here," Rashanta replied.  "I need you to find me a
lawyer.  Find a way to get me out of here."

"Sorry," he said.  "I don't think it's a good idea for me to get
involved.  Call somebody else.  I gotta go.  Bye."

Click.

"He hung up," the black woman said sadly.  "I got another number to
call."

"Sorry," said the deputy.  "One phone call.  That was it.  Time to
process you.  On your feet.  Let's go."

"But..." she started.

"Shut up, girl," he stopped her.  "Don't start up with me.  Don't make
this more unpleasant than it has to be."

Deputy Lewis walked Rashanta to another room.  This one had a camera
pointed at a white wall with black demarcations indicating the height
from the floor.  A fingerprint kit was on a table near the door.
Pictures and prints, thought the black woman.  She couldn't believe
the chain of events that had lead her to this humiliation.

Finally, the deputy removed her handcuffs.  Her shoulders ached and
her wrists were sore.  She rubbed them to get the circulation going
again.  He gave her a placard to hold and took a full face mug shot of
her.  She was so overwhelmed by events that she'd forgotten that her
blouse was open far enough to show off her bra and much of her
breasts.

"Turn to the side," he ordered her.  "Hold the placard so it's
visible."

Rashanta turned as instructed.  The strobe light on the camera
flashed.

"Turn back to the front now, girl," the deputy commanded.  "Hands at
your sides."

Numb, the black girl complied.  The light flashed again.  Only then
did she notice the grin on the young white deputy's face.  She was
suddenly aware of her state of undress.  She knew that this last
picture wasn't part of the official record.  Her face burned with
shame and rising anger.  But she felt powerless to do say anything.

The finger printing was less embarrassing but Rashanta had to endure
Deputy Lewis standing too close to her as he rolled her fingers on the
ink pad and then the fingerprint card.

"Let's go," he commanded once the procedure was completed.

The deputy walked the black woman back out into the main room of the
sheriff's office and around the perimeter to a desk situated in front
of a barred cell, empty except for a wooden bench.

"Remove your belt and shoes," he said, producing a paper bag from a
box on the floor.  "Place them in the bag.  They'll be returned to you
when you leave."

A tear rolled down her cheek as she stepped out of the shoes.

"My skirt won't stay up without the belt," she objected.  "Do I have
to take it off?"

"Standard policy," he replied.  "Are you going to give me trouble now,
girl?"

"No," she said softly.

Rashanta removed the belt and placed it in the bag.  She bent over,
picked up her shoes, and put them in it, too.  She could feel her
skirt sliding down from her waist and tugged it back up.  The deputy
unlocked the barred door to the cell and slid it to one side.

"Get in," he ordered, indicating she was to enter cell.

The black woman stepped the door and into the cell.  The deputy slid
the door shut and turned the key.  It locked with a loud clank.

"They'll be making another run over to the jail in a few hours,"
Deputy Lewis told her.  "You'll be staying there until you're
arraigned tomorrow."

He turned and walked back to his desk.  Rashanta could see the goings
on in the office and anyone there could see her in the cell, like an
animal in a cage at the zoo.

The time crawled by for Rashanta.  She used it to button her blouse
back up and to think of how she was going to get out of this.
Certainly she'd be provided with an attorney who'd be able to let
people she knew know where she was and what happened.  Until then she
felt completely lost and alone.

The hours ticked by and activity in the office gradually lessened.
Rashanta had needed to relieve herself for some time and her bladder
was positively bursting.  At last she got the attention of the deputy
as he passed nearby on other business.

"Excuse me, officer," said Rashanta, her face hot with embarrassment.
"I need to use the ladies room."

"Can't you wait?" Deputy Lewis replied, irritated.  "The van will be
here soon enough to take you to the jail.  You can go there.  Hold
your water, girl."

"I can't wait any longer," she protested, humiliated at having to
plead with this white man to be allowed to use the bathroom.

"Shit," he spat.  "Alright.  You can't go in there unescorted and
there's no female personnel here.  I'll have to take you to the
toilet.  Standard policy."

He unlocked the door and slid it open.  Rashanta walked out in her
stockinged feet and followed him.  Her skirt kept slipping down with
no belt on so she had to keep hiking it back up.  He led her to a door
marked "Men".  She looked up at him questioningly.

"I ain't goin' in the women's room, girl," he said.  "You'll have to
do your business in here.  Nobody's in there now anyways.  You want to
go or not?"

Rashanta blushed and nodded.  Deputy Lewis pushed the door open and
they both walked into the men's room.  He pushed open a stall door and
the black woman entered it and turned to face him.

"I'll just be a minute," she said, reaching to close the stall door.

"No you don't," he stopped her.  "Door stays open.  Standard policy."

"What!" she exclaimed.  "You expect me to pee with you watching!  This
is too much.  I have rights.  I have a right to some privacy.  I have
a right to at least pee without some pervert watching me!"

"The hell you do, bitch!" the deputy said angrily.  "I'm not breaking
policy.  Prisoners will not be left unwatched.  Period.  You don't
like it?  Back to the cell you go.  Let's go."

"I have to go now!" the black woman protested.

"Then go," he said.  "Hurry it up.  I've got other things to do than
play games with some dumb nigger."

Rashanta couldn't believe what she'd just heard.  This white man, no,
white boy, called her a nigger!  A nigger!  Her hackles were up now
but she had to go badly and was afraid of pissing herself if she
argued.  She couldn't remember being so humiliated before.

The black woman's face was hot as she pulled down her panties and
stockings and lifted her skirt, revealing a thick patch of curly black
pubic hair.  She glared at the grinning white deputy as she sat on the
toilet and urinated under his leering gaze.

"When my lawyers get through with you, you'll be lucky to have a job
cleaning this toilet," she threatened.

"Dumb nigger," the deputy laughed.  "Don't forget to wipe."

Rashanta finished and stood up.  She pulled up her panties and
stockings and flushed.  Deputy Lewis stood in the way of the stall
entrance for a few seconds too long, blocking her way out, menacing
her with his mere presence.  Then he stood aside.

The black woman led the way out of the men's room, hiking her unbelted
skirt up every few steps.  All eyes in the room followed her and the
deputy back to the holding cell.  She could hear chuckles and
whispered comments from the other deputies in the office the whole
way.  The shame she felt had her close to tears.  She stepped into the
cell and he locked her back in.  The door slid shut with a resounding
clank as she sat back on the wooden bench.

It had been quite a long day for Rashanta.  She had been up before
dawn to go to the airport to catch the first of three flights.  Though
she struggled to keep her eyes open, she felt herself nodding off.
The sound of the cell door sliding open woke her up.  A large black
woman, no more than twenty years old, her hair pulled back in a tight
pony-tail, was being pushed into the cell by a deputy Rashanta hadn't
seen before.

"Sit tight, girl," said the deputy.  "Van'll be along anytime to take
you and your friend to the slammer."

The big girl was dressed in magenta shorts and a dark blue tee shirt.
She eyed Rashanta for a long while before sitting on the bench next to
her.

"Ain't seen you round here," she said.

"I'm not from around here," replied Rashanta.  "And I don't belong in
here."

"'Course not," said the big black girl.  "'S all a mistake, ain't it?"

"Yes!" Rashanta answered.  "It's bullshit!"

"Me, too," sighed the big girl.  "Name's Desiree.  My friends call me
Dee Dee."

"Rashanta," the older woman replied.  "Shanta.  I've never even been
here before.  Never had any plans to come here.  And I hope to never
see this place again."

"Damn, girl!" said Desiree.  "What you doin' here then?"

"I got off the interstate to get gas," Rashanta began.  "I got stopped
for speeding.  There was a mixup on the paperwork for my rental car.
They think I stole it.  Now I'm here."

"That's some fucked up shit, girl," Desiree observed.  "Way fucked up.
Damn sheriff's boy's why I's here.  Him an' his damn friends cornered
me in a alley.  Wanted me to blow 'em all if'n you kin believes that!
I tol' 'em 'fuck no.'  Bastard said if I didn't they'd swear I tried
to make 'em pay for some poontang.  'Course it's the sheriff's boy so
who they gonna believes?  Fuck."

"Hey!" called the deputy.  "Shut up in there.  No talking.  You'll
have plenty of time for that later."

The two black women sat in silence for another half an hour until
another deputy, previously unseen, slid the cell door open.  Late
twenties, heavy set, with black hair and mustache, his name tag read
"Faldo".  He held chains and cuffs in his hand.  He gestured for them
to get up.

"Ok, ladies," he said.  "Your ride's here.  Time to get ready to
travel.  You first, skinny.  Stand up and hold out your hands."

Deputy Faldo squatted and quickly slapped a cuff on each of Rashanta's
ankles.  Standing, he repeated the procedure on her wrists.  The black
woman's wrists were now cuffed together.  A chain ran from from
between the cuffs and was attached to the short chain between the
ankle cuffs.  It wasn't long enough for her to stand completely
upright and forced her to stoop.

"Is this really necessary?" Rashanta asked indignantly.  "I'm not
going to try to escape or anything.  This whole thing is ridiculous!"

"You better learn when to shut up, bitch," said Deputy Faldo, looking
down at the stooped black woman.  "This is standard procedure for
prisoner transport."

He turned to Desiree.

"Your turn," he said to her.  "You know the drill."

Desiree stood and offered her hands to be cuffed.  Deputry Faldo made
quick work of it.  Both negresses now stood chained and stooped over.
He stepped out of the cell and retrieved the bags from the desk
containing their shoes, which he then dropped on the floor in front of
the two women.

"Get your shoes on, ladies," he grinned.  "We're leavin' now."

Under Deputy Faldo's leering eye and with much difficulty due to their
restraints, Rashanta and Desiree managed to get their shoes on and
stand up.  Rashanta found the task to be more than a little degrading,
putting her shoes on with her chains jangling.  But she felt helpless
to do otherwise or even complain.

"Move out," ordered the deputy.  "Out the side door.  Your limo is
waiting."

The two black women shuffled out of the holding cell towards the side
door, Deputy Faldo right behind them, pushing them along.  The sounds
of the jangling chains caught the attention of everyone in the room.
Rashanta could feel a dozen sets of eyes on her, drinking in her
humiliation.  Her face burned with shame.

They reached the door and exited.  A dark colored van with "Sheriff's
Department" painted on the door was parked just outside.  The deputy
easily walked around the hobbled negresses and opened the rear door.

"In you go," he said cheerfully.

There were benches on either side of the van.  Rashanta sat on one,
Desiree the other.  Deputy Faldo shut the door with a hollow slam.
The only windows were in the doors and they were covered with a heavy
metal mesh.  They heard the engine start and felt the van start to
move.

"You gotta watch yo' se'f in this town, girl," Desiree explained.
"The sheriff here, he got this place by the nuts.  This ain't the
first time I gots trouble wit' him.  That jail o' his...  Well, you'll
see soon enough, girl."

"What do you mean, Dee Dee?", Rashanta inquired with some anxiety.

"Well, they gots special treatment for sistas," the big girl answered.
"It ain't right, but it's how it is.  The sheriff an' his boys, those
deputies, they do what they like wit' us.  Ain't nothin' we can do
'bout it, neither.  Best to just go along to get along if'n you knows
what I means."

Rashanta had more questions, but Desiree didn't seem interested in
elaborating more than she had already.  Ominous images of what might
await her at the jail filled the black woman's head.  The van stopped
and the engine was shut off.  The rear door opened and Deputy Faldo's
heavy visage greeted them, leering in much the same way as before.

"We're home, ladies," he grinned.  "Watch your step!"

The fat deputy chuckled as he watched the two colored women awkwardly
climb out of the van, their chains jangling.  He pushed them ahead of
him, stooped and shuffling, through the door marked "Prisoners" that
was set into the wall of a grey cut stone building.  They went across
the empty outer room to a door with a barred window.

The deputy pushed a button and a few seconds later a buzz was heard
along with a loud click.  He pulled the door open and pushed his
prisoners through and then followed right after them.  The door shut
automatically with a thud followed by the sound of the lock.

"Sit," he ordered indicating a long wooden bench along the wall just
inside the door.

The room was windowless and the institutional green walls were
brightly lit by an overhead fluorescent fixture.  The floor was tiled.
Another door with bars for a window was on the opposite wall.  A
windowless door was off to the side.  Deputy Faldo opened that door
and stepped inside.

"I've got two prisoners for processing tonight, Eddie," he said.

"Get 'em stripped and ready, Wally", another voice answered.  "Then
bring 'em on in."

Deputy Faldo bent over and unlocked the cuffs from each of his charges
and removed them.  He dropped them on the wooden bench with a
resounding clanking sound.  There were some metal baskets on the floor
and he used his foot to slide two of them over to the seated
negresses.

"Alright, ladies," said the deputy.  "Get those duds off and put 'em
in the baskets.  You'll get 'em back when you check out.  Standard
policy.  Prisoners must be thoroughly searched prior to admittance.
Sheriff don't want no contraband in his jail house."

Desiree leaned forward, took her shoes off, and stood up.  She pulled
her tee shirt off revealing a large black bra restraining two massive
breasts.  The big girl pulled down her shorts, showing off a pair of
blue panties covering her fat black ass.

Rashanta was aghast.  Both at the demand the white man was making as
well as the big black girls passive obedience.

"Now just a minute!" the slim black woman objected.  "I am *not*
taking my clothing off!  I have rights!  I am not some animal to be
treated this way!  I can understand your policy, but surely you must
have female personnel to perform this procedure when there's ladies
involved!"

"Ladies!" chortled Deputy Faldo.  "Hey, Eddie!  This dumb nigger
thinks she's a lady and needs female personnel to wait on her!"

A short brown haired white man in his early forties, dressed in a
white smock stepped out of the door.  He surveyed the scene and shook
his head slowly, unable to suppress a smile.  Desiree looked on, still
in her underwear.

"Listen, bitch," snarled the deputy.  "You ain't no fuckin' lady.  You
a nigger, plain and simple.  In this jail you do like you told and no
bullshit about it, if you know what's good for you.  Nobody here gives
a shit about seeing some naked monkey, so get over yourself and get
those duds off."

Rashanta stood and slapped the deputy across the face.  His jaw
dropped from the shock of it.

"How dare you talk to me that way!" the black woman said angrily.

Whap!  The deputy slapped Rashanta across the face so hard it knocked
her off her feet.  He stood over her and looked down at her prone
form.  Tears formed in her eyes as she rubbed her cheek with one hand.

"I'm gonna let that slide, nigger," he said evenly, restraining his
anger.  "Seein' as how you ain't from around here and don't know no
better.  You do anything like that again and you'll be sorry you was
born, I promise you.  You think you too fine now?  Well you won't be
so fine when I get through with you if you pull any shit like that
again.  Now get those fuckin' clothes off and get with the program.  I
ain't bullshittin' around.  Now do it."

He turned to Desiree.

"What's your major malfunction, girl?" he asked her.  "Get naked so we
can get this done and put y'all away for the night."

The big girl reached around her back and unclasped her bra, letting it
slide down her arms and off onto the floor.  She blushed as her saggy
breasts hung against her chest.  She pulled her blue panties off and
gathered her clothing into her basket.

Rashanta sat up on the floor and took off her shoes.  She looked up at
Deputy Faldo with the anger still in her eyes.  The black woman stood
and unbuttoned her blouse.  She unzipped her skirt, let it fall to the
floor, and stepped out of it.  Shrugging off her blouse she unclasped
her bra and shrugged it off, too.  Her firm breasts were now displayed
for all in the room to see.  Her dark chocolate nipples stood erect.
Her face was hot with shame, anger, and embarrassment.

"Get those drawers off, too, now," the deputy encouraged her.  "The
nice man here's gotta take a look in those holes to make sure you
ain't got no weapons or drugs or nothin'."

He looked over at Eddie and winked at him.  The older white man just
smiled and shook his head.

Rashanta pulled her panties down to her knees and let them slide the
rest of the way down her legs, stepping out of them when they reached
the floor.  She looked back up defiantly in an attempt to show them
she was unbroken by this treatment.  Nevertheless, she was completely
naked in front of the two white men and knew she would be submitting
to a thoroughly humiliating search of her intimate parts.

"Pick that shit up, girl," ordered Deputy Faldo.  "Put it in the
basket like a good nigger.  Leave it on the floor and it'll get shit
canned."

The slender nude black woman leaned over and picked up her clothes,
placing them in the wire basket.  The white men looked on, clearly
enjoying the site of the naked negress's firm round ass with her bent
over in front of them.

"Ok, bring the niggers in, Wally," said Eddie to Deputy Faldo with a
smile.  I know this is your favorite part."

"Let's go inside and get you checked out and checked in," instructed
the deputy.

Rashanta noticed the bulge in the big man's pants as she passed him
and entered the room.  Desiree was right behind her.  This room was
the same size as the outer one.  A stainless steel examination table,
complete with stirrups on either side at one end was in the middle of
the room.

"Alright, enough standing around," said Eddie.  "Get on up there,
you."

Since he was looking at Desiree as he spoke, the big black girl
climbed up on the table, placing her feet in the stirrups.  Her hairy
pussy gaped open with her legs spread so far.  Eddie snapped on a
rubber glove and probed her vagina with a finger.  She looked away
from the faces of the onlookers, shamed.

"Hmmm," the older white man said.  "Nothin' here.  Sloppy wet, though.
Horny fuckin' nigger.  I know you love this.  Get on back down now."

Desiree blushed as she dismounted the exam table.

"Your turn," Eddie said to Rashanta.  "Get your ass up here.  You know
what to do."

The slender black woman felt a lump in her throat and in the pit of
her stomach.  She lifted herself up onto the table and lay down on it.
The steel surface was cold and made her shiver.  She was thoroughly
embarrassed spreading her legs wide to put her feet in the stirrups.
She felt a cool draft waft over her cunt.  Eddie roughly shoved a
gloved finger inside her opening.  Her pussy was dry and he used no
lube.

"Owww!" she yelped.  "Be careful!"

"Be quiet," muttered Eddie as felt around inside Rashanta's vagina.
"I'm through anyways."

"All right, you've had your fun," announced the deputy.  Get down from
there.  Open those mouths, got to check there, too."

Eddie pulled a small flashlight out of the pocket on his smock and
using a tongue depressor poked and peeked inside Desiree's mouth.  The
big girl stood passively and endured it, her mouth open wide.
Rashanta also offered no protest as he repeated the procedure on her.

The sound of the outer door buzzing open could be heard followed by
the door closing.  Rashanta could see Deputy Lewis, the man who'd
arrested her earlier standing in the doorway with a twenty something
white girl who appeared drunk and disheveled.

"Charlene was tearing up the Dew Drop again tonight," Deputy Lewis
told his colleagues.  "Busted old Fred over the head with a bottle."

"Damn!" laughed Wally.  "That's the second time already this week!"

"What're you laughin' at?" slurred the white woman.

"Calm down, ma'am," said Deputy Lewis.  "I'm just checking you in."

"You know where the key's at, Ben," said Eddie to Deputy Lewis.  "Put
her up in nine."

"Ok," replied the young deputy.  "Let's go, ma'am.  I think you just
need to sleep it off."

Ben and Charlene left the doorway.  Another buzz was heard followed by
the door closing.

"I thought this bullshit here was 'standard procedure'," complained
Rashanta.  "How come that white bitch didn't get this treatment?"

"Shut your hole, nigger!" Wally ordered.  "You don't think we'd treat
a white lady like this do you?  Sheesh!  You're lucky I don't slap the
shit out you for that.  Now, I don't wanna hear another sound comin'
out of your mouth."

"One more hole to go," Eddie announced.  "Bend over and spread 'em.
Grab your ankles."

Burning with anger and humiliated with helplessness, Rashanta bent
over, her legs apart, and grabbed her ankles.  Next to her, Desiree
did the same.  She felt the white man's finger probe her asshole
unconcerned about the pain the rough treatment caused her.  Never had
she felt so degraded.  When it was over she stood and glared at Eddie
as he pulled off the rubber glove.

"Was it good for you, too?" he asked mockingly as he dropped the glove
in the wastebasket.

"Enough dilly dallying," said Wally.  "Time to go get you two put away
for the night.  Move out."

The heavy set deputy pushed the naked negro women out of the
examination room to the door that led further into the jail building.
He pushed a button and the door buzzed.  He opened the door and pushed
his charges through and down the hall ahead of him.

Rashanta was exhausted, but scared and humiliated as well.  She was
naked, being marched through the corridors of a stone jail house in a
town she'd never heard of until she had the misfortune to enter it.

The tiled floor was smooth and cold.  The air was cool, too, giving
the nude black woman goose flesh.  They arrived at a large window with
a counter.  Deputy Ben Lewis was leaning on the counter talking with a
rough looking white woman in her late thirties on the other side.  She
had dyed blonde hair and was wearing a bright orange gown with "COUNTY
JAIL" stenciled on it.

"Well," said Ben, turning his head to take in the view of the naked
negresses, "here's the girl who teased me with a little flesh to keep
from getting a ticket!  Looks like I'm seeing all the nigger flesh I
like now!"

Rashanta looked at the floor and blushed.  She'd felt so in control
then during the traffic stop.  She'd used her charms successfully
before.  She thought the white deputy would succumb to them as so many
others had in the past.  Instead she was now helpless and exposed
before him.

"Turn around," he ordered.  "Let's see the back side."

The slender black woman looked up into his leering face.  She knew she
was powerless to say no and turned around as instructed.

"Not too bad, girlie," observed Ben, "not too bad at all.  Nice tight
ass.  Goes good with those boobs of yours.  Niggers are just built
right.  That's for sure."

Rashanta's face burned at being talked to this way.  What little
professional decorum Deputy Lewis had displayed earlier was completely
gone now.  Apparently he felt a lot bolder here in the jail with his
charges completely vulnerable and under his power.  Never had she had
to endure such humiliation.

The white woman behind the counter looked annoyed and clearly didn't
appreciate the admiring looks the two deputies were giving the black
woman.  Ben turned to Desiree.

"But you, Dee Dee," he went on, "are a fat nigger cow.  Big fat
hangin' cow udders, that's what you've got.  But I know you've a got a
sweet pussy in there somewhere to go with your big fat black ass,
ain't that right?"

Desiree blushed and looked down at her feet.  The big girl shifted her
weight back and forth.  He winked at the other deputy.

"'Course, that's how Wally here likes 'em," continued Ben.  "Fat,
black, and dumb."

"I sure do," agreed Wally.

He turned to the white woman at the counter.

"Stuff for two, Annie," said the heavy set deputy.

Annie eyed the two colored women with a look that disturbed Rashanta.
The white woman turned and took two blankets, two sets of sheets, and
two orange gowns like the one she was wearing and place them on the
counter.

"Here you go, meat," the white woman said and slowly looked back and
forth between the two negroes.

"Pick it up," urged Wally.  "We ain't got all night."

Rashanta picked up the gown and started to put it on.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin', you dumb nigger?"  asked the
white man.  "I'm in a rush to get out of here.  I ain't waitin' on you
to get all gussied up!  Do that in your cell."

"She's got a lot to learn!" Ben laughed.  "I gotta get goin' now,
Wally.  The little woman will have my hide if I keep showin' up late
from work."

"You are so whipped, Ben," chuckled Wally, shaking his head slowly.
"No wonder you like comin' down here an' takin' it out on the the
darkies."

"Hey, she's got the sweet pink pussy I like," replied Ben.  "So I'll
put up with bein' whipped by it!  Then I can come down here where
pussy whippin' takes on a whole new meanin'!"

"You got that right, bro," agreed Wally.  "It sure do."

Ben walked back the way they'd come in.  Wally turned to his charges.

"Well?" he started, "Let's move it!"

The slender black woman picked up the bedding and gown and the deputy
led them past a row of cells.  The cells were totally open consisting
of barred walls.  The first four cells each had two black women in
them who all looked at the new comers with mild interest.  Desiree was
looking into each cell to see if she knew anyone.  Rashanta kept
looking straight ahead but could feel their eyes upon her.

"You two'll be bunking together tonight," said Wally, opening the cell
door.

Inside was a steel framed bunk bed with two bunks, each with a stained
mattress on it.  The cell was just deep enough for the length of the
bed and maybe twice as far across as the width of the bunks.  The two
naked colored women entered and the white deputy closed the door and
locked it behind them.

"I can't climb into the top bunk so I'll take the bottom one," said
Desiree.

The big girl put the bedding down on the lower bunk and slipped the
gown on.  It was tight on her.  She made her bed and lay down on it.
Rashanta put her gown on as well.  She she put the sheets and blanket
on the top bunk and climbed up and got in.

"All right," came a male voice.  "Lights out.  Keep it quiet back
there."

It had been quite an eventful day.  She'd started the day off flying a
thousand miles to make million dollar decisions for her employers
large chain of stores.  Now the black woman was in jail and no one
knew where she was.  She felt alone and vulnerable.  Tired as she was,
it was hard to sleep, wondering what lay in store for her.  If the
events she'd experienced so far were any indication, it wasn't going
to be pleasant.

The lights went out, plunging the cell into darkness.  Rashanta
gradually drifted off to sleep.

________________________________________________________________________

Hard Time for Rashanta


Chapter 2 - Attorney Client Privilege


Rashanta awoke gradually the next morning.  She felt like she'd had
strange dream and struggled to remember it as she lay with her eyes
closed.  Somehow she'd ended up in jail or some other preposterous
place.  But unlike a usual dream, this one didn't gradually dissolve
to the point of being forgotten.

Instead more details came to her mind.  Pulled over on the highway,
arrested, transported, inspected, it was all so clear.  Then she
couldn't quite recall getting to the hotel and started to panic when
she realized she didn't know where she was.

Slowly, the black woman became aware of the sounds around her.  She
heard the echo of distant voices.  Another sound was much closer.  A
wet sound, slurping even.  The loud grunting noise what it finally
took to get her to open her eyes.

The reality of the situation hit Rashanta hard.  She saw the low
ceiling and barred walls of her cell.  She felt a shudder and a sense
of panic rising inside her.  It wasn't a dream at all.  She was locked
up in a jail in a strange town a thousand miles from home.  None of
her friends or family knew where she was.  She was alone and helpless.

The sound.  The wet slurping sound.  Rashanta rolled onto her side and
looked to see what it was.

What she saw was Desiree, her cell mate, naked on her knees with her
face up against the cell door.  Outside the bars, a uniformed deputy
stood.  The white man was at least fifty years old, his hair mostly
gray.  His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed.  The big
black girl was obviously sucking his cock through the bars.

"That's it, bitch," said the deputy huskily, "suck it good.  Suck it
for your breakfast."

Rashanta watched in shock while Desiree moaned around the big white
dick in her mouth as she sucked and slobbered on it.  The fat negress
pushed her face into the bars, straining to get it as far as it would
fit in order to take as much of the deputy's cock in as she could.

"Ugh!  Ahhh..." the white man grunted, releasing his sperm into the
big black girl's waiting mouth.

Desiree remained in position until the deputy stepped back and his
dick slipped out of her mouth.  The negro girl sat back from the bars
as he zipped up.

"You *are* a good cocksucker, Dee Dee," he allowed.  "Even for a
nigger.  Here's your prize."

The deputy reached his hand through the bars and dropped a white wax
paper bag on the concrete floor of the cell.  Rashanta watched as he
turned and walked away while her cell-mate opened the bag and pulled
out what looked to be a pastry of some kind and took a bite.

"What is that?" asked Rashanta.

"Din't know you was up, girl," replied Desiree, startled.  Powdered
sugar was on her lips, semen on her chin.  "It's a jelly donut from
the deputy's break room.  From yesterday.  They was jus' gon' throw
'em out anyways.  You want one?"

"Did you just blow that guy for them?" the slender black woman wanted
to know.

"I'm hungry!" the big colored girl said defensively as she finished
the donut.  "We ain't reg'lar pris'ners so they ain't gon' feed us no
breakfast wit' 'em.  Might not get to eat 'til lunch.  If you don't
want the other one, I'll eat it."

"You sucked that guy's dick for stale ass donuts!" exclaimed Rashanta
incredulously.  "That's fucked up, girl!"

"You gots a lot to learn 'bout dis place, girl," Desiree explained as
she started on the second donut.  "You gots to go along to get along.
You'll see."

Rashanta watched with disgust as her cell-mate wolfed down the jelly
donut and wiped her face off on the back of her hand.  Desiree stood
up and picked her orange gown up off her bunk and put it on.  The big
black girl laid back down.

The slender negress was hungry, too, though.  Rashanta tried to
remember the last time she'd eaten and realized it was one small
sandwich she'd been served on the airplane that had delivered her to
this horrible place.  She began to regret not having taken up her
cell-mate's offer of the day old jelly donut in spite of what the big
girl had done to get it.

After a couple of hours another deputy came to the cell door and
opened it.

"Wallace," he announced.  "Get your ass out here.  Your lawyer's
here."

Rashanta climbed down from the top bunk and the deputy took her
through the corridor along the row of cells.  The colored girls locked
inside watched as the slender black woman was walked by them.  Finally
the arrived at a small room with a solid door.  Inside was a table and
a few wooden chairs.

"Wait here," he instructed.  "He'll be along shortly."

The deputy closed the door.  Rashanta sat in one of the chairs and
looked around the room.  Institutional green walls, no windows, same
concrete floor as in the cells.  After a few minutes the door opened.

A thin white man in his late forties entered.  His brown hair was
combed over, but did nothing to mask his baldness.  His mustache was
turning gray and didn't do much to give his non-descript face much
character.  He wore a cheap looking brown suit and carried a brief
case in one hand and a handful of file folders in the other.  He
placed both on the table and sat down.

"I'm Sam Woodward," he said by way of introduction.  "I'm the county
public defender.  I'll be handling your case."

He put on a pair of half frame reading glasses and opened one of the
folders.  He spent a minute glancing over it before looking up at the
black woman.

"I'll be frank, Miss Wallace," he said, looking at her over the lenses
of his glasses, "it doesn't look good for you.  Grand theft is a
little extreme, but there's no doubt that you took that car before it
was paid for.  That's taken very seriously in this state."

"It's all a big misunderstanding, that's all!" Rashanta told him.  "I
don't understand why they can't just charge my credit card and give me
the papers!"

"It's not that simple," said Sam.  "The rental agency is pressing
charges and you're simply not going to walk away from this."

"This is ridiculous!" she protested.  "What I did was no crime.  It's
bullshit!  I need to talk to my sister or my boss at work.  They'll
get me a decent lawyer and get me the hell out of here!  I haven't
been able to make any calls yet."

"It says here you got your phone call," observed the lawyer.

"I called my worthless ass boyfriend like a fool," the black woman
told him.  "He wouldn't do shit.  They wouldn't let make a call to
anyone else."

"Well, that is the policy here," Sam informed her.  "They're within
the law."

"It doesn't matter now," explained Rashanta.  "I can give you my
sister's phone number and you can tell her what happened and she'll
take care of getting me a lawyer."

"Why would I want to do that?", asked the white man, taking off the
reading glasses.  "If I don't defend you I won't get paid by the
county."

"Jesus!" exclaimed the black woman.  "Don't worry about it.  I'll pay
you make the lousy phone call.  Probably more money than you'd get for
the case, too."

"Maybe I don't want money from you, girl," he said.

Sam's eyes roved over her body and finally lingered on her nipples
poking against the fabric of her prison gown.  Rashanta knew what was
on his mind right away and felt a wave of disgust.  The idea of doing
anything physical with this pathetic third rate lawyer was making her
queasy.  But it wouldn't be the first time she'd paid her way with her
body.

 * * *

The slender colored woman remembered the evening she earned her
promotion to senior buyer in the vice president, Paul Davidson's
office.  Tall, handsome, and still fit looking for a man in his
fifties, Rashanta had thought he was reasonably attractive.  The
silver haired white man had called her into his office the evening
that the current senior buyer announced he was retiring.

"Shanta," Paul had begun, "I wanted to tell you that it's down to
between you and Tyler.  He's got the experience, but you bring
something to the table that he can't.  I'm just not sure I can justify
passing him over."

"Well, Mr. Davidson," she'd said.  "I really think the company would
do well with me in that position.  I can bring a fresh perspective to
it."

"Hmmm," he'd gone on, "that's not quite what I meant.  To tell you the
truth, I was thinking of that fine black pussy of yours.  I've never
tasted brown sugar and I'd sure love to try it."

"Mr. Davidson!"  The shock in her voice had been clear.  "I can't
believe you just said that!"

"Believe it, girl," Paul had said in a hushed voice. "Look, if you're
not interested, fine.  Just an idea I was toying around with, that's
all.  But I'd keep this to myself if I were you.  I'll deny it ever
happened.  I've been at the company for over fifteen years.  Who do
you think they're gonna believe?"

Rashanta had realized instantly that he was right.  Who'd believe her,
a young black woman, over this older white man who held an executive
position with years of seniority?  Besides, she thought, she wanted
the job and the money and respect that went with it.  Using her own
assets to her best advantage was nothing to be ashamed of, was it?

"Oh, it's not that at all!" she'd protested, thinking fast.  "I didn't
mean it like that!  I just meant...  I just meant that I couldn't
believe you felt the same way as me.  I... I've been, well, attracted
to you for a long time.  I just never dreamed you were thinking that
way about me.  You're so handsome and powerful!  What woman wouldn't
want to be with you?"

She'd studied his face for any sign that he doubted her sincerity.  He
had looked back at her for a long moment before continuing.

"Sorry about that, Shanta," he'd said at last.  "Forget I said that.
I'm flattered you'd be interested in an older man like me.  I hope you
understand my initial concern there.  Can't be to careful and all
that."  He'd laughed nervously.  "And, please, call me Paul."

"Oh, yes, Paul," she'd gushed.  "Ever since I first saw you I'd had,
well, naughty thoughts about you!"

Rashanta had swallowed hard and put on a false smile.  Why had she
felt so ashamed then if there was no shame in what she was doing?

"How about a drink?" Paul had gone on, getting a bottle out of desk
drawer along with two glasses.  "Sherry?"

"I'd like that," Rashanta had lied.

Whatever it took, she'd thought at the time.  After a couple of
glasses of sherry he'd maneuvered himself next to her on the low
backed leather couch in his office.  She'd smelled his breath, felt
his lips on hers, his hand under her blouse.  She'd just sat there and
taken it.  She'd known that she had to give him what he'd wanted if
she was going to get what she wanted.

Rashanta had thought about how it would be to have her own office
while Paul had slipped her panties off and dropped them on the plush
floor.  She'd imagined herself flying first class all over the country
and staying at high class hotels as he'd let his pants drop and
climbed between her open legs.

The black woman had visualized the big paychecks and expense account
she'd have at the same time she'd felt the white man's hard dick enter
her vagina.  She'd dreamed of the prestige and respect she'd have in
her new senior level position as he'd ejaculated inside of her.

The negress had pictured herself continuing to climb the corporate
ladder even higher as the silver haired man had withdrawn himself from
her and zipped himself up, leaving her laying gap legged on the couch,
her pussy leaking his semen onto the expensive leather upholstery.

Rashanta remembered how the smell of sex hung in the air in Paul's
corner office and the sticky wetness between her legs.  She'd made
some more small talk and told some more lies and hurried to elevator.

The colored woman had felt so used as she stepped into the lobby that
evening on her way out the door.  She'd realized she'd left her
panties in his office at the same time the gray haired black security
guard had said 'good night, Miz Wallace' to her as she passed his desk
near the main entrance.

The slender negro had realized she'd left more than just her underwear
behind as she'd sat behind the wheel of her Lexus.  She'd known then
that she'd also left her dignity and self respect in that white man's
office.  She couldn't remember a time before that when she'd felt so
much like a whore and it had shamed her to her core.  She was just a
nigger, she'd thought.  Nothing but a nigger bitch in a business suit.
Silent tears had rolled down her cheek and his slime continued to seep
out of her onto the driver's seat.

 * * *

Rashanta looked across the interview table at the weasely white man
who apparently represented her best hope of ending this nightmare.
Alone and friendless, locked in a jail in place she'd never heard of
and was anxious to forget, she knew she was in desperate straits.  And
desperate straits required desperate actions.

At least Mr. Davidson had been attractive, she thought.  Sam Woodward
was anything but that.  But she valued her freedom even more highly
than the fancy job her body had earned for her in the vice president's
office.  It was all too obvious to her that she didn't have much
choice.

"Ok," sighed Rashanta.  "What do you want me do?"

"You can start by taking that gown off" said Sam, grinning at
her. "Orange doesn't look good on you."

The black woman felt the tears of shame welling in her eyes.  She
stood and pulled the orange prison gown off over her head, exposing
her naked body to the now sweating white man.  He slowly took in the
sight of her firm breasts, hard nipples, flat belly, and hairy bush.

"Turn around," said Sam in a hoarse whisper.

Rashanta complied and turned her back to him.  Her face was hot with
humiliation.  A tear rolled out of one eye, leaving a wet track across
her cheek.  The seedy lawyer drank in the view of her bubble butt and
full brown thighs.

"Damn, but you're mighty fine lookin' for a colored girl," Sam said at
last.  "Mighty fine indeed.  Come here, girl.  Sit in my lap."

"Is that all you want?" she asked, the contempt in her voice
unmistakable.  "Ok, then, I'll do it."

She stepped towards him, her shoulders slumped.

"Why do you have to be so negative, girl?" he responded, peeved.  "I
wanted to start this off all friendly and you go an' act like that!"

"Let's just get this over with, ok?" Rashanta said with resignation.

"Well, if that's the way you feel about it, we can skip the
amenities," replied Sam.  "Get on your knees, bitch.  Get on your
knees and suck my dick."

Any hint of friendliness in the attorney's manner evaporated.  He
stood up and put his hands on his hips, looking right into her face.

The black woman had always hated performing oral sex on her lovers.
It was utterly degrading.  To put her face at the level of his crotch.
To take his cock into her mouth.  They always expected her to swallow
it, too.  The thought of taking what came out of some man's dick into
her body disgusted her.

"What?" said the black woman, taken aback.  "I will not!"

"You will if you want me to make those calls, cunt," he said.
"Personally, I don't give a shit about taking your case, I've got more
than I can handle as it is.  But I'll take a blow job to make a phone
call.  Or the next bitch will suck it instead.  Whatever.  So what's
it gonna be?"

Rashanta had no alternative.  She needed to get word to her sister
about her situation.  This weasely lawyer was her only chance at
making that happen.  She got on her knees in front of him and looked
up into his face.

"So, you wanna suck it, bitch?" he taunted her.

"I'll do it," she sighed.  "I don't have much choice."

"No, you don't, do you?" he sneered.  "But with that attitude, maybe
I'm not interested.  Maybe I want you to want it.  Or at least act
like you do.  So let's try it again.  You wanna suck my dick, bitch?"

"Yes," said the black woman.

"Yes, what?" prompted the lawyer.

"Yes, I want to suck your dick," she said, feeling the tears welling
in her eyes.

"Yes, you want to suck my dick, what?" he prodded.

Fuck! she thought.  She was completely humiliated at being forced to
beg for performing an act of utter degradation.  Her face was hot with
the shame of it and she felt a lump in her throat.  But she knew what
he wanted to hear.

"I want to suck your dick, sir," she said at last.  "Please."

"That's better," he replied, triumphant.  "Go ahead and suck it,
bitch."

Sam unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down to his knees.  He
took his dick in his hand and started slapping the side of her face
with it.  Physically, there was no pain from it, but emotionally she
was devastated at having to just take it.

"Get on with it!" he ordered, still dick slapping her in the face.
"Get busy!"

His cock smelled of stale sweat and wasn't completely erect, but she
began to suck on it anyways.  She could feel it growing in her mouth.
She sucked harder and the occasional slurping noise escaped.

"That's the way," murmured the lawyer, "suck it good."

The white man began bucking his hips, thrusting his cock into her
mouth.  The colored woman choked on it and tried to pull back.  But
that only made him reach his hand around the back of her head,
grabbing a handful of her hair, and shoving it in even deeper.  The
negress gagged on it.

"Uh uh, girl," he corrected her.  "You'll take it and like it.  Or at
least you'll take it.  I don't give a shit whether you like it or
not."

"Mmmmffff!" she responded, her mouth full of white cock.

Rashanta's throat hurt as the tip of his dick kept banging into it.
Her nose was in his pubic hair and his balls hit her on the chin.  Her
eyes watered and she could feel herself drooling around his cock.  But
she kept sucking hard in an effort to get him off quickly and end her
torment.

Just then the door opened.  The naked black woman looked up from her
knees on the floor to see a uniformed deputy standing in the doorway.

"God damn it, Hank!" exclaimed Sam, annoyed, his pants around his
knees.  "Can't you see I'm with a client!"

"Uh, sorry, Mr. Woodward," he said, never taking his eyes off the
debased negro woman.  "You gotta another one waiting..."

"I'll be there when I'm through with this one," he said.  "Now get
out!"

The white deputy leered at the kneeling negro woman for a moment and
closed the door.  Rashanta was thoroughly humiliated at having been
seen this way.  She'd been forced to suck cock in the past to get what
she wanted, but she never had a third party watching her degradation.

Despite his reaction to the interruption, Sam seemed invigorated by
being seen with her by the deputy.  Rashanta figured that he liked
being seen by others exercising power over her this way.  Him,
standing, mostly dressed, with his cock in his client's mouth.  Her,
naked on her knees, servicing a virtual stranger.

The attorney fucked the negress's face even harder for a few strokes
and then abruptly pulled out and grabbed his cock.  She was startled
by his action and started to look up at him.  Suddenly he exploded
with a series of loud grunts.

One spurt of hot semen after another hit her as he ejaculated in her
face.  The first left a white streak from her forehead and into her
hair.  The second caught her in the eye.  The third on her cheek.
Then he put his dick back into her still open mouth and finished
draining it down her throat.

Sam stood over her, gloating, for at least half a minute.  Rashanta
couldn't look at him and hung her head.  Her eye burned from his sperm
and his semen dripped off her face onto her chest and onto the floor.

"See, I knew you'd be a good cocksucker," the white man told her as he
pulled his pants back up and buckled his belt.  "Niggers always are.
I guess it's just natural."

The black woman remained on her knees, shamed and humiliated.  She
felt thoroughly used and degraded.  Far worse than she ever had with
Mr. Davidson.  Paul had at least tried to maintain the illusion that
she was his lover and not just a piece of fuck meat.  Plus she'd never
felt so desperate in giving in to him the way she did now, giving into
the weasely lawyer.

Sam gathered the papers on the table and opened the door.  Rashanta
looked up and watched as he exited the room and left the door open.
Anyone passing by could see her, kneeling naked on the floor, her face
coated with cum.  A used whore.

Hank the deputy appeared in the doorway and looked down at her,
leering as he had before.

"Well, ain't you a sight!" he chortled gleefully.  "I heard you were
actin' all high an' mighty when you was brought in.  Look at you now!
Just another nasty nigger whore.  Like all the others we got in here."

Rashanta hung her head back down and wept noiselessly from the shame
of it.  In the back of her mind, she feared he was right.  That that's
all she was in spite of all her efforts to lift herself higher.

"Get up off the floor onto your hind legs, girl," he ordered her.
"Time to put you back in your cage."

The negress slowly stood up and grabbed her prison gown.  She tried to
decide whether to wipe her face off on the gown or not.  There was
nothing else at hand to use.

"Let's go!" said the deputy impatiently.  "You can put that back on
back in the cell.  I ain't got all day!  Move it!"

Rashanta started to wipe her face off as she walked.  The deputy
stopped her.

"Leave it alone, slut," he ordered her.  "You look better that way.
Ain't no doubt what you are now!"

The black woman was mortified.  She had to follow the white deputy
through the cell block, naked, her face dripping with semen.  The
negress inmates laughed and and called to her as she walked by.

"Welcome to county lock up, bitch!" one shouted.

The others laughed.  Rashanta was deeply shamed and tried to look
straight ahead and ignore them and their taunts.  At last they arrived
at her cell.  The deputy opened the door.

"In you go," he instructed her indifferently.

The negro woman stepped into the empty cell.  Desiree was nowhere to
be seen.  She heard the door clang shut behind her.  She used a sheet
to wipe the lawyer's cum off her face and put her gown back on.  Then
she just lay in her bunk and waited, staring up at the low ceiling..

She must have drifted off to sleep because the sound of the door
opening again woke her up.  She looked up to see Desiree, naked,
holding her gown in her hand.  The white deputy was just shutting the
door.  She watched as the big black girl shuddered at the metallic
clang as the door latched.  The deputy walked away without saying
anything.  The fat negress put her gown back on.

"You 'wake?" Desiree asked.

"Yeah," replied Rashanta, rolling onto her side to face her.

"Thanks for givin' me a break back there, girl!" the big girl said.

"Huh?" the slender negro woman was puzzled.

"With Woody!" Desiree went on.  "The lawyer?  Sam Woodward?"

"I know him, alright," said Rashanta with disgust.  "But I don't know
what you mean."

"He said you blew him," the fat negress explained.  "You blew him so I
didn't have to.  That white man's a nasty mother fucker."

"I had to," replied the older black woman.  "He wouldn't call my
sister or my boss otherwise.  No one even knows I'm here!  What else
could I do?"

"Woody said he'd *do* somethin'?" chortled Desiree.  "That be a first
for that asshole!"

"He told me he'd call them if I... you know," stammered Rashanta.

"Oh, yeah," agreed the big black girl, "I know alright.  Tell me, did
he ask for a phone number?  Or a name?"

"Uh...," the slender negress pondered.  "No, he didn't."

"I's sorry, girl," said Desiree.  "I's sorry I laughed, 'cause it
ain't no joke.  That white man ain't gonna do shit.  Long as you here
and you his client he be usin' you, know what I's sayin'?.  He ain't
gonna do nothin' to fuck that up."

"That bastard!" exclaimed Rashanta.  "That fucking bastard!  I'm *not*
gonna let him get away with it!"

"Ain't nothin' you can do, girl," the big black girl told her.  "You
is fucked big time now an' you gots to get used to it.  You gotta go
along to get along.  Ain't no other way."

"Like hell there ain't!" the older woman replied, hoping what her cell
mate said wasn't true.  "I can't start believing that or I might as
well just give up."

Rashanta rolled on to her back and tried to think of what she could do
to get out of this hell hole she'd found herself in.  But the more she
thought, the more she realized she was thoroughly trapped and utterly
helpless.  She knew she was completely at the mercy of this place and
there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.


________________________________________________________________________

Hard Time for Rashanta


Chapter 3 - In Chambers


As the hours ticked by, Rashanta's anger grew.  The taste of the white
attorney's dick burned in her mouth despite her attempts to wash it
out.  She vowed to herself that those responsible for her humiliations
would all be made to pay for it.  All that was needed, she thought,
was to get word out of this god forsaken jail to her sister or her
boss and her rescue was assured.

The slender black woman heard the sound of the cell door opening.  She
rolled over to see a deputy standing just outside the bars.  He looked
like the same one who'd brought Desiree the stale donuts.

"Alright, ladies," he said with a mocking tone, "on your feet.  Time
for your date with justice.  We've got to get you ready and run you
all over to the courthouse for arraignment.  Let's shake it up!"

At last, thought Rashanta, this is the chance she needed.  If they
thought she'd be afraid to speak up in court about the abuses she'd
suffered here they were wrong.  The black woman began considering
exactly how she'd tell the judge about what was going on here.  The
feelings of powerlessness she'd been experiencing began to be replaced
with the hope that comes with having a plan of action.

She and Desiree climbed out of their bunks and were walked down the
corridor they'd been brought in through.  The deputy pressed the
buzzer on the door that led to the examination room where they'd been
forced to undergo a full body cavity search the day they were
processed in.

The door clicked and the deputy pushed it open and pushed his charges
through it.  Deputy Faldo was waiting for them inside, holding the
chains and cuffs they'd been shackled with on the trip from the
sheriff's office to the jail.

"Miss me?" he asked, grinning at the hapless negro women.

Rashanta merely glared at him, saying nothing.

"Ok, be that way," said the fat deputy with resignation.  "Don't
matter no how.  Standard procedure is to transport prisoners in
restraints."

"I suppose you'll watch as we change back into our clothes?" said
Rashanta contemptuously.

"Hell, no!" the white man said cheerfully.  "You bitches are goin'
over there 'as is'.  You won't be needin' those duds any time soon."

Deputy Faldo stooped and fastened the cuffs to Rashanta's ankles.
Standing, he fastened the other pair of cuffs to her wrists.  The
shortness of the chain connecting the wrist cuffs to the ankle cuffs
forced the slender negress to stoop slightly.  She watched as he
repeated the procedure on Desiree.

The white man hit the buzzer and in a moment the outer clicked.  He
pushed the door open and pushed the negro women stooped and shuffling
through it to the parking lot.  Rashanta blinked in the bright
sunlight.

The slender black woman was humiliated at being forced to shuffle
across the parking lot to the waiting van stooped over with her ankles
chained together.  Ordinary people with business at the jail stopped
and stared at the two shackled negresses.  She could feel the wind on
her skin and between her legs.  Her breasts bounced freely.  She was
very aware of being naked under the orange prison gown and felt very
vulnerable and exposed. Her face burned with shame and anger.

The deputy opened the back door of the van.

"In you go, ladies," he said jovially, slamming the door behind them
after they entered.

Rashanta and Desiree climbed into the back of the van while passersby
watched.  They sat on the benches inside as Deputy Faldo slammed the
door shut behind them.  They felt the van rock as he hefted his weight
behind the wheel.  The engine started and they were moving.

"This isn't right, Dee Dee," Rashanta said after a few minutes.  "They
can't treat people this way and get away with it."

"I don't know what you think you gonna do 'bout it, girl," Desiree
replied.  "It's been like this long as I kin remember."

"It's not legal, either," the older woman informed her.  "I think
somebody just has to speak up."

"You better watch yourse'f, girl!" warned the big black girl.  "You
don't know what you messin' wit'."

Rashanta felt a little sorry for Desiree and the other black women
who'd been treated like animals at the jail by the deputies and that
lecherous public defender.  She silently vowed to put a stop to it.

The van pulled to a stop and shook slightly as Deputy Faldo climbed
out and came around the back to open the door.  It had been dark
inside so the sudden shock of bright sunlight caused the two chained
prisoners to to blink as they were led out into the parking lot by the
courthouse.

Rashanta noticed a small crowd of onlookers watching as she and
Desiree were led shuffling in their chains from the van to the
prisoner's entrance to the building.  Stooped over with her hands
cuffed together, she could feel her bare breasts swinging beneath the
thin orange prison gown that was all that covered her naked brown
body.  The short chain connecting her wrist cuffs to the chain between
the manacles on her ankles jangled as she moved.  The gawkers only
added to he humiliation and added to her determination.

"Serves you right, you fat whore!" shouted a white teenaged boy
standing in crowd of other boys.  "Now you goin' where you belong!"

"Tha's the sheriff's boy," said Desiree in a low voice.  "Him an' his
damn friends."

"Shut up, Dee Dee," demanded Deputy Faldo.  "Prisoners ain't allowed
to talk."

"Who's your friend?" the boy went on.  "Kinda old, but she's got a
nice ass on her!  Hey!  You!  You another whore like Dee Dee?  I can
see your boobs shakin', nigger!  I got to have me some o' that!  How
much for me an' my buds?"

The boy's friends all laughed.  Rashanta knew his comments were
directed at her and she blushed in spite of herself.  She couldn't
understand how he was allowed to get away with it.

Deputy Faldo led his charges into the building and sat them on a
bench.

"You ladies wait here 'til you called into court," he told them.  "No
talkin'."

The deputy went to a soda machine near the entrance door and bought a
can.  He sat down and drank it while they all waited.

"Wallace!" a voice called into the room after about half an hour.
"Wallace, grand theft auto!"

Deputy Faldo stood and came over to where the black women were
waiting, sitting in chains on the wooden bench.  He removed the cuffs
from Rashanta's wrists and ankles and walked her through the door into
the courtroom.

The room was large with a high ceiling and tall windows along one
wall.  The room was fairly full of people.  Mostly white men in suits
and ties, white ladies in similarly profession attire, and a few
uniformed deputies.

Rashanta noticed quickly that she was the only black face present.
She felt even more exposed and noticeable, clad only in her thin
orange prison gown.  She could feel the cool air conditioning wafting
between her legs on her naked pussy.  Her nipples hardened and poked
against the fabric.  Her face was hot with shame and she avoided eye
contact with anyone.

The deputy walked her up to the front of the courtroom where Sam
Woodward, the public defender, waited for her.  The judge, a white
haired man with steel rimmed glasses, looked her over.  The bailiff,
also gray haired, announced her.

"Case three fifty four, Rashanta Wallace, grand theft auto," he called
out.

"How do you plead?" asked the judge perfunctorily.

"This is just the arraignment, girl," Sam whispered to her.  "You best
plead not guilty for now."

Rashanta glared at him for a minute and then turned towards the judge.

"Not guilty, your honor," she spoke clearly.  "Your honor, may I
speak?"

"Go ahead," said the judge.  "But be quick about it.  I want to set
bail and move on to the next case.  We got a busy morning here."

"Your honor, I'm not from around here and I haven't been able to
contact my family or my work," said Rashanta.  "My attorney is not
looking after my best interests and I have the right to choose my own
counsel.  Also the conditions at the jail aren't right either.  I have
rights that aren't being respected."

"Sam?" the judge addressed the lawyer.  "What's all this about?  You
know I don't like it when things don't go smooth."

"I'm sorry, Judge White," Sam apologized.

"I will take care of this now!" said the judge angrily.  "Bailiff!
Bring that woman to my chambers immediately.  This court is in recess
for fifteen minutes."

At last, thought Rashanta.  Someone in authority in this place was
going to listen to her.  The gray haired bailiff stepped forward and
led the black woman towards a wood paneled door next to where the
judge was seated.  He opened the door and followed her in.

The judge's office was plushly furnished.  Dark wood paneled walls and
leather upholstered furniture gave the room a look of formality.  A
large wooden desk with a high backed chair faced the rest of the room.
A minute after entering, the judge came into the room, removed his
judicial robe, and hung it on the coat race near the door.  He sat
behind his desk and looked at the colored woman standing before him.

"Alright Miss...  Miss...," Judge White began.  "Randy?  What's this
girl's name"

"Wallace, your honor," answered the bailiff.

"Miss Wallace," stated the judge.  "What's all this about?  Is there a
problem?"

"Yes, your honor," said Rashanta with a measure of relief.  "First
off, this whole thing is just a misunderstanding with a car rental
place.  I never stole anything.  But the real issue is that I've been
prevented from contacting anyone from back home who'd be able to help
me.  My so called attorney won't help, either.  It isn't right."

"I see," the judge responded.  "You say there's a problem at the
jail?"

"It's deplorable, your honor!" the black woman replied, relaxing in
the company of the first person who'd listen to her.  "Prisoners are
subject to sexual harassment.  Black prisoners especially.  I was
stripped and searched without a female officer present.  I wasn't
allowed any privacy even in the bathroom!  My cell mate was forced to
perform a sexual act just to be given food!  It's outrageous!  And my
attorney!  That man wouldn't agree to help me unless I submitted to
him sexually!  And even then he did nothing!  He should be disbarred
and put in jail!"

"These are very serious charges, young lady," said the judge.

Judge White rose from his seat and walked around to the front of the
desk.  Rashanta watched him the entire way.

"Randy, I think you know what to do," the judge said to the bailiff.

The gray haired bailiff grabbed the black woman by the shoulders and
forced her to bend over, roughly banging her head on the judge's desk.
She felt his foot hook the inside of her leg, forcing them wide apart.
She heard a zipper unzip and felt her prison gown lifted, revealing
her shapely black bubble butt.

"I'm going to teach you how we do things here, girl," the judge
announced.  "We don't cotton to no damn uppity niggers."

Rashanta felt the head of Judge White's hard cock push between the
cheeks of her ass, pressing up against her asshole.  She struggled in
vain.  The bailiff had her pinned down, bent over.  She was completely
immobilized and utterly helpless.  The judge jammed his dick hard up
her ass.

"Owww!" cried the negro woman.  "You're hurting me!  My god!  You're
raping me!"

"Shut the fuck up, coon bitch," growled Randy.

Rashanta felt him grab her hair with his free hand and press her face
into the desk.  She felt as if her ass was being split in two.  The
judges cock was of average length, but it was thick.  Her asshole felt
as if he might tear it open.  He fucked her hard and fast, thrusting
his entire length up the helpless negress's ass.

"Shut up and take it," the bailiff warned her, his voice filled with
potential violence.

"Ohhh...," she moaned in pain.  "Please!  I'm begging you to stop!"

Judge White only pounded himself into Rashanta harder.  Tears streamed
down the negro's face.  She felt his cock far up her rectum.  She had
only consented to anal sex from Mr. Davidson in order to advance her
career.  He at least had been somewhat gentle with her and she'd
pretended to like it.  Now she was in agony as the white haired man
used her brutally with no concern for her pain.  In fact, her cries
seemed to excite him and cause him to hurt her even more.

"That's it, cunt," the judge said breathlessly.  "Go ahead and cry.
Nobody can hear you.  And if they could, they wouldn't do anything
about it except wait for their turn with you."

The white haired man continued to fuck her relentlessly.  The pain was
excruciating and the black woman sobbed as she was raped.  Finally she
felt him thrust even deeper inside her ass and pause.  The hot jets of
semen she felt came as a relief indicating that her immediate ordeal
was almost over.

"Oh, fuck!" the judge said, the exertion straining his voice.  "Fuck!
You dumb fucking monkey.  You take it.  Take it up your nigger ass,
you dumb cunt."

At last Judge White withdrew from her defiled orifice.  Rashanta's
asshole was throbbing with pain.  She felt the bailiff roughly pull
her back up into a standing position.  Only briefly, though, because
next he forced her down onto her knees in front of the judge, his
flaccid cock inches from her face.

"Suck it, nigger," ordered the bailiff.  "Clean the judge's dick off
and do it now."

"You bastards!" she cried.

Whap!  The bailiff slapped the negro hard across the face knocking her
to the floor.

"Stupid nigger!" the bailiff said with disgust.  "Ain't you learned
nothin' yet?  Get up!  Get up on your knees and clean his honor's dick
off if you know what's good for you!"

Shocked and sniveling, Rashanta got back on her knees.  Tears still
streaming down her cheeks, her nose running.  She took the judge's
foul member and started licking.  The taste made her gag.

"You got five seconds to do like you're told, bitch," warned the
bailiff.

The black woman opened her lips and slid the judge's cock into her
mouth.  She closed her eyes and sucked.

"That's more like it, nigger," said the bailiff, pleased at her
submission.  "You *will* learn your place and act right."

Rashanta licked his dick clean and looked up at him.  The judge
grabbed her by the hair and lifted her.  She struggled to her feet and
faced him.

"Do we have an understanding now, girl?" the judge asked her without
releasing his grip.

"Yes," she said softly, looking down.

Judge White jerked Rashanta's head up until their eyes met.

"Yes what?" he demanded.

"Yes, your honor," said Rashanta, her voice cracking.  "We have an
understanding."

"So I'm not going to hear any more of this nonsense in my courtroom?"
asked the judge.

"No, your honor," she agreed.

The judge turned to the bailiff.

"You want a turn with her, Randy?" he asked.

"Well, judge," the bailiff replied.  "You know I'd love to, but recess
is almost up."

"Maybe later, then," said the white haired man.  "Take her back out
there."

"Right away, your honor," said Randy.  "Let's go, nigger."

The bailiff walked the sniveling negro woman back into the courtroom.
She knew she was trapped and helpless now.  The authorities.  Her
lawyer.  Even the judge.  She'd never been in a position that she
couldn't use her body to her advantage.  Now these men were just using
it and she was getting nothing in return.  Nothing, that is, other
than pain and degradation.

Randy left Rashanta standing next to Sam at the defendant's table.
The lawyer looked at her and grinned.  Suddenly she realized that the
whole court must have heard at least some of the goings on in the
judge's chambers.  Her face was hot with humiliation.  Her ass
continued to throb with pain.  She could feel the semen leaking out of
her asshole and dripping down her leg.

"Did the judge get you straightened out, girl?" asked Sam.

"Yes, he did," Rashanta said softly.

"Good," he grinned again.  "I figured he would."

"All rise!" called the bailiff as the judge entered from his chambers.

Judge White sat down and gavelled the court to order.

"Where were we?" he asked.  "Was a plea entered?"

"Not guilty, your honor," said Sam.

"Very well," the judge replied.  "Bail is set at one hundred thousand
dollars, cash or bond.  Next case."

Judge White struck the gavel down and Deputy Faldo led Rashanta away
back to the waiting room.  He sat her down on the bench and refastened
her restraints.  Desiree was nowhere to be seen.  Sitting down
stretched her a little, sending a fresh jolt of pain through her body
starting from her ass.

"Ass tender?" the deputy asked, grinning.

Rashanta looked at him, defeated.

"Well, they don't call the judge 'hard on Harry' for nothing,"
chuckled Deputy Faldo.

With that, the white deputy went back to his seat by the soda machine
and picked up a newspaper someone had discarded and started to read.
The colored woman was left sitting on the bench in chains, a searing
pain in her ass and a wet spot on the back of her prison gown
reminding her of how justice was served in this town.

After about another ten minutes, Deputy Faldo went back towards the
courtroom, returning a few minutes later with Desiree.  He put the big
black girl in chains as he had Rashanta.

"That's all the excitement for today, ladies," he announced.  "Time to
head back to your cages now.  Let's move it."

Once again, Rashanta felt totally exposed as the deputy led the two
negresses across the parking lot to the van.  Stooped and shuffling
along through the gravel, her breasts jiggling with each step, the
chains clanking, she knew every eye was upon her and enjoying her
humiliation.

The black woman's desperate optimism upon arrival here had been
replaced by devastating defeat.  She hung her head and didn't look up
at the onlookers this time and didn't even listen to the taunts.

As the door to the van slammed shut, a single tear rolled down
Rashanta's cheek.  She had no more ideas of how she was going to get
out of this situation.  How could she bestow favors on men who could
easily just take them from her anyways?

"Din't go like you thought, girl?" asked Desiree.

"I can't believe what happened!" exclaimed Rashanta.  "I told that
judge about what was going on and he called a recess.  I thought he
was going to listen to me!  Instead he...  Oh gawd, Dee Dee!"

"I know, girl," the big girl attempted to console her.  "That fuckin'
judge.  Hard on Harry.  He's mean."

"You know what happened?" Rashanta said, shocked.

"Shit yeah!" said Desiree.  "It's all over the courthouse.  How old
hard on boned you in th' ass!"

"Oh my god!" cried the older woman.  "That bastard raped me!  And all
those people knew it!  And nobody did shit about it!"

"You gots to understands this place, girl," said the big black girl.
"That's jus' the way it is 'round here.  Ain't nothin' nobody kin do
'bout it."

More tears flowed, but no more words were exchanged between the two
black women.  Desiree realized that she was only making her cell mate
feel worse.  Rashanta was beginning to understand just how things
worked in this town.  The town she'd never intended to visit.  The
town she couldn't escape from.


________________________________________________________________________

Hard Time for Rashanta


Chapter 4 - Plea Bargain


Sleeping fitfully, Rashanta dreamed of her old life.  Driving her
Lexus down the freeway to work, the sun shining.  After a bit she felt
as if she was driving over cracks in the pavement, rhythmically
shaking her car.

Gradually the colored woman began to wake and the realization that
she'd only been dreaming slowly came into focus.  She became aware of
her new surroundings.  The sight of the concrete ceiling with the
fluorescent light fixtures hanging from it replaced the visions of
freedom she'd had.  She was once again in the real world.  Laying in
the top bunk in her jail cell.

But the shaking continued.  The sounds of physical exertion, grunting
and heavy breathing, emminated from below.  She just lay there and
listened.

"Uh...  Ahhh...," she heard as the shaking slowed and stopped.

"That's it, you fat bitch," said a male voice.  "That's what a fat
nigger is for."

A minute later the bunk shook again and Rashanta could see a uniformed
guard stand up in the cell, his back towards her.  He was buckling his
belt and zipping up his fly.  She noticed the cell door was ajar.

"Not bad, Dee Dee," he said.  "You still got that good pussy."

"Thank you, sir," said Desiree.  "You want more, you know where to
come."

"That I do," said the guard, letting himself out of the cell.

Rashanta's cell mate stood up from her bunk, pulling the orange prison
gown down from where it had been bunched up under her arms so as to
expose her large breasts.  On the table in the cell was a pizza box.
Desiree opened it revealing two slices.

"Don't tell me," said Rashanta disappointedly, "you fucked that guy
for a pizza."

"The night guards ordered it," explained Desiree.  "Frankie gave me
the leftovers.  Fuckin' him was jus' my way of showin' my 'preciation
fo' it.  I gets hungry an' we ain't always be gettin' breakfast on
time.  You still got alot to learn, girl.  I woulda thought you'd be
learnin' more by now."

Rashanta could still feel the soreness in her ass where the judge had
brutally raped her the day before in his chambers as the bailiff
looked on.  That was a lesson she wouldn't soon forget.  Sadly, the
colored woman knew that the big black girl was right.  She was going
to get what she was going to get and might as well start getting used
to it.

"You want the other slice?" asked Desiree.  "It ain't bad even though
it be cold now."

The slender negress climbed down from her bunk and looked into the
box.  A slice of plain cheese pizza sitting on a grease stained piece
of cardboard.  Her stomach growled.  It'd been a long time since
dinner the night before.  And that had just been a plate of plain
macaroni.

"Thanks, Dee Dee," said Rashanta.

The black woman took a bite of the cold pizza.  It was the closest
thing to normal food she'd eaten since her arrival at the jail.  Grits
for breakfast, when she got breakfast, a processed cheese sandwich on
white bread for lunch, and macaroni for dinner had become the routine.

The morning ticked by and Rashanta was glad she'd taken the slice
since it was becoming apparent there'd be no other breakfast.  A guard
showed up and opened the door.

"Wallace," he said.  "Your lawyer's waiting for you."

Rashanta followed the white deputy to the small windowless room she'd
met Sam Woodward in the day following her arrest.  The balding
attorney looked up as she entered, the deputy closing the door behind
her.

"Good morning, Rashanta," he greeted her, leering at her breasts, her
nipples poking against the thin material of her prison gown.  "You're
looking none the worse for wear.  Come sit over here next to me.  The
district attorney'll be dropping by shortly and you're gonna need to
be briefed on how to get him softened up."

The negress sat next to the lawyer without saying anything.  He
continued to drink in the vision of the slender black woman.

"Ok," he said at last, "I've already got him primed to agree to reduce
the charges from grand theft auto.  Thing is, that could still be as
much as a six month sentence.  You've got to convince him you didn't
mean to do it and make it clear how sorry you are and how you're ready
to do anything to make it right and get your sentence reduced."

"It's the truth that I didn't mean it," said Rashanta.  "And just what
do I have to do to get the sentence reduced?"

"Well," smiled Sam, "I know you didn't mean it, but you've got to
convince the DA.  He's a good old boy and understands how coloreds
like you don't know so much about complicated deals like car rentals
and the like.  Plus he sure does enjoy having a fine negress like
yourself suckin' his dick."

So, more blow jobs for these crackers, thought Rashanta.  She realized
now there was little choice in the matter.  She'd sucked cock for less
important things than her freedom.  The black woman recalled how she'd
dropped to her knees and took her boss's dick into her mouth for a
more prestigious parking place, more befitting of her new position.
She'd even swallowed.

"It wasn't too complicated for me to understand!" objected the colored
woman.  "Those assholes didn't tell me I needed to sign anything
else!"

"Now, now," said the public defender patronizingly.  "You won't get
anywhere with Jack with that attitude.  Your best bet is to put on
your best country nigger voice and tell him you just didn't know no
better.  Slip off that gown, get on your knees, bat your big brown
eyes, and lick those thick lips.  Then get ready to suck him off.
That should get you down to a month or two, tops."

Rashanta's face grew hot with anger at the suggestion, and shame at
the knowledge that she would indeed have to do what her lawyer
suggested.  She hadn't had much problem using her body to get what she
I wanted, but to put on a dumb act at the same time was thoroughly
humiliating.  But she knew she had no alternatives other than to rot
here for half a year.

The door opened and a tall slender grey haired man walked into the
room.  Jack eyed Rashanta, who looked down at the table top, and then
to Sam.  He sat down across the table from the black woman and her
attorney, placing his brief case in front of him.

"Ms Wallace," began the district attorney, "in the interest of saving
the tax payers of this county the cost of a trial we're prepared to
reduce the charges to using a motor vehicle without permission in
exchange for a guilty plea.  I would recommend a sentence of six
months because we take a dim view of what you've done."

"Now, Jack," said Sam.  "Isn't that just a little harsh?  I'm just
asking for a little flexibility.  After all, this is all a big
misunderstanding according to my client.  Isn't that right, girl?"

The negress's face flushed again at being called girl that way.  She
looked into Jack's eyes and swallowed hard and looked back down at the
table.

"I's sorry fo' what I done, sir," said Rashanta, feeling a lump in her
throat.  "I's jus' a dumb nigga an' din't know no better.  I din't
understands they weren't done wit' fillin' out all them papers.  I's
real sorry, sir."

The black woman, shaking inside, looked up again to judge the district
attorney's reaction to her statement.  He seemed to have lost the
stern look from his face that he'd come in with.

"I see," said Jack.  "So, you're willing to testify to that fact under
oath and take the plea bargain?"

"Yes, sir!" Rashanta answered.  "But can't you make it so I ain't got
to stay in the jail house so long?  I be so grateful if you can do
that."

"Well," the DA replied, "the sentence isn't cast in stone, I suppose.
Just how grateful would you be?"

Rashanta took the cue and stood up.  She bent and grabbed the hem of
her prison gown and pulled it off over her head, leaving it on the
table.  She was standing naked in front of the two white men, dressed
in their suits and ties.

Jack and Sam both looked the slender colored woman up and down, taking
in the view of her chocolate brown skin, her firm breasts, her bubble
butt, and her long legs.  She stepped around the table and knelt in
front of the gray haired district attorney.

"I'd love to suck your dick, sir," Rashanta told him.  "If you can
drop my sentence to a month, I suck you anytime you want."

"I doubt Judge White will go for a month," said Jack.  "I'll try, but
you'll likely still get two months.  You'll suck it anyways.  Won't
you, bitch?"

Bitch.  The word was like a slap in the face to the negress but she
had to take it and keep smiling at the white man.  Two months were
better than six.

"Yes, sir," said Rashanta.  "I'll suck you good, sir.  You'll see."

"I'll see right now, bitch," said Jack, unzipping his slacks and
taking his now erect dick out.  "Suck it, nigger."

Her face hot with shame at having to submit to this treatment,
Rashanta smiled stupidly and took the district attorney's cock into
her mouth and started sucking.

Still, she felt almost as much in control as she did when she kneeled
and sucked at work in exchange for a prestigious title, a higher
salary, and all the perks that went with it.  Now she was doing it for
a reduced sentence, but it was still a trade off she was willing to
make.  She told herself she could have said no.  Not like her rape in
the judge's chambers or the humiliating stripping for the deputies.

She slurped noisily as the public defender looked on glassy eyed.

"That's right...," instructed Jack.  "Bob your head now, nigger.  Suck
it good."

Sam eyed Rashanta as she moved her head up and down over Jack's cock.
The district attorney looked up and saw him watching the action.

"You want some of her, Woody?" he asked him.

"Fuck, yeah!" responded the balding public defender.

"Stand up and bend over, bitch," Jack ordered Rashanta.  "You better
not let my dick come out while you do it."

The colored woman slowly rose and bent over, presenting her shapely
black bottom to her lawyer.  She kept sucking the prosecutor's cock
hard so it wouldn't slip out of her mouth as she got up.

"Harry tells me this nigger's ass is tight as hell," Jack told Sam.
"Let me know what you think.  Nothing like a blow job from a bitch
who's gettin' reamed at the same time.  Do her hard, Woody.  Make her
hurt."

"You ain't gotta ask twice, Jack!" exclaimed the defender.

Sam got up and walked over to stand behind Rashanta.  He dropped his
pants and his white cock sprang out.  The black woman could feel the
head of his dick between her ass cheeks, poking at her anus.  She
braced herself for the pain she knew was coming from her already
abused asshole.

Still the negress was surprised by the shock of it as her attorney
shoved the full length of his dick into her rectum.  It felt as if she
was being ripped apart, but she knew she'd better keep bobbing her
head on other white man's cock.  He held the power of keeping her
imprisoned and she couldn't afford to displease him.  She couldn't
help groaning at the pain she felt.  The sensation of the sound of her
agony seemed to excite the prosecutor who began fucking her face with
added vigor.

"Oh, yeah!" Jack exclaimed.  "Fuck that ass hard, pal.  Make the bitch
cry like that again!"

Sam was quick oblige and began pounding Rashanta's ass mercilessly.

"Take it, bitch!" cried the defender.  "Push that butt back and take
it!"

The negress pushed back as ordered and felt her lawyer's dick jammed
further up her ass.  She yelped at the painful jolt, though the sound
she made was muffled by the dick stuffed into her mouth.  The district
attorney moaned with pleasure at the feeling of the black girl's cry
on his cock.

"Fuck!" gasped Jack.

The gray haired white man grabbed Rashanta's head by the hair with
both hands and began pumping his cock down the hapless black woman's
throat.  She choked and gagged, sputtering with long strands of saliva
dripping out of her mouth.  He seemed completely oblivious to her
gasps for breath and was completely focussed on his own pleasure.

"That's it!," exclaimed Sam.  "Damn!  Ahhh!  Fuck!"

The sight of Rashanta getting savagely throat fucked was more than he
could take and the skinny bald lawyer released his load deep in his
client's tortured ass.  The colored woman felt the jets of semen shoot
into her rectum.

"Here it comes, bitch!" cried Jack as he ejaculated in Rashanta's
mouth.  "Mmmm!  Yeah!!!"

The black woman choked on the load of sperm the white man deposited in
her throat.  Tears streamed down her face from gagging and she drooled
onto the floor.  She felt like a used piece of meat as the two
attorneys shot their loads into her at the same time.  Their cum
leaked from her lips and asshole.  Both holes burned with the pain of
hard use.

Jack stood and zipped his pants.  He picked up his briefcase, turning
before leaving the room.

"Have the nigger in court after lunch, Woody," he said.  "I'll see if
Harry'll go for a month, but he'll probably only go for two.  That
bitch sucks a mean dick, buddy.  I know I'll be getting plenty of use
out of her while she's a guest of the county."

The district attorney took a last look at the bent form of the female
prisoner, drooling and crying, the public defender's dick still up her
ass.  He walked out of the room leaving the attorney and his client
alone.

Sam withdrew from Rashanta's ass after Jack closed the door behind
him.  The black woman began to straighten up.

"Not so fast, girl," he stopped her.  "You've still got some business
to attend to.  I can't have my dick covered in your filth the rest of
the day.  Get on your knees and clean it off.  Now, bitch"

Defeated and used, Rashanta turned and kneeled at Sam's feet.  She
took his cock in her hand and licked it clean.

"Not a bad deal, eh?" asked Sam as he zipped up his pants.  "Two
months, down from six.  Maybe even one.  What do you say, girl?"

The naked black woman looked down at the feet of the white man she
knelt before.  Tears of shame rolled down her cheeks.

"Thank you, sir," she said in a small voice.

"See how easy things are when you've got the right attitude?" he asked
mockingly.  "That's all you have to do.  Know your place.  Once you've
done that, the rest is easy."

Sam picked the prison gown up off the table and dropped it on the
floor in front of the kneeling black woman.  Rashanta looked up at
him.

"Cover yourself now, girl," he told her.  "You go back to your cell.
Clean yourself up some.  I'll see you at the courthouse later on."

The public defender went to the door of the interview room and turned
and watched as the inmate stood and put her gown back on.  Their eyes
met and he winked at her as he let himself out.

A blonde haired deputy stepped into the room, not more than twenty
years old.  He looked at Rashanta and then glanced down at the pool of
saliva and semen on the floor.

"What the fuck?" he muttered.  "Clean your mess up, bitch.  It's
disgusting."

"I don't have anything to do that with," Rashanta complained.

"The hell you don't," said the blonde deputy.  "You're wearing a rag
that'll do fine.  Take it off and mop it up.  I ain't got all day.
Get to it!"

Rashanta took her gown back off, resigned to suffering yet another
humiliation.  Nude now, she got down on her hands and knees at the
deputy's feet and mopped up the the thick liquid from the cement floor
with the only piece of clothing she had.  She stood back up when she
was finished.

"Well?" he said impatiently.  "Put it on!  We ain't in the jungle
where monkeys like you prance around naked."

The black woman took a deep breath and pulled the soiled garment over
head.  The big wet spot was cold on her flesh and it clinged around
her breasts.

"Ok," said the deputy, "time to put you away in your cage.  Let's go."

Rashanta followed the young white man back to her cell and entered as
he unlocked the door and slid it open.  Desiree looked up from where
she lay on the bottom bunk.  Rashanta shuddered as she heard the steel
barred door slide shut behind her.

"You a mess, girl!" observed the big black girl.  "Those white men
sho' did a job on you!"

"They used me hard, Dee Dee," the slender colored woman replied.  "It
hurts to walk."

"Bet that DA double teamed you wit' Woody," guessed Desiree.  "He
loves gettin' his dick sucked by a nigga who be takin' it up da ass.
Don't know why, jus' kinky I guess.  Maybe her screamin' makes his
dick feel good."

"I don't wanna talk about it," sighed Rashanta as she climbed into her
bunk.

The black woman lay there in the semen stained gown and stared up at
the ceiling.  Her ass burned and her throat hurt.  It wouldn't be long
now before she knew how much time she'd be living in this nightmare.


________________________________________________________________________

Hard Time for Rashanta


Chapter 5 - Sentencing Hearing


When the young red haired guard arrived and opened the cell door
Rashanta thought she was to be escorted to lunch since it was after
the noon hour.

"Wallace," he called as he slid the barred door open.  "Let's go."

Rashanta climbed down from her bunk and stepped into the corridor.
The guard gave her the once over and frowned.

"Damn!" he exclaimed.  "You're a mess.  Shit.  I'll have to get you
cleaned up 'cause you're going to court for sentencing and the judge
don't like niggers showing up looking like used whores.  Follow me."

The negro woman blushed with shame at having her condition brought to
her attention by this freckle faced guard who may have been nineteen.
She followed him with her head bowed.  She could see the crusty stains
on her prison gown and could imagine how she must appear.  He pushed a
door open revealing a tiled room with evenly spaced shower heads.  Two
scruffy looking twenty something white men in orange prison coveralls
were mopping the floor.  They both looked when the guard and his
charge entered.

"They're cleanin' the shower room now," he said.  "Don't pay them no
mind.  Strip."

"Don't I get some privacy?" Rashanta protested.

"Fuck," sighed the guard.  "Are you gonna give me a hard time?  We's
already behind schedule.  Take that nasty rag off.  Time's a wastin'."

The two prisoners chuckled as they looked on, their mopping chores on
hold for the moment.  Both leered at the slender black woman.  She
stood there without moving.

"What are you?  Stupid?" he asked.  "Get it off before I rip it off."

Rashanta sighed and slowly started pulling the soiled gown off, much
to the delight of the two white inmates.  The deputy looked on
impatiently, though the sight of the shapely black woman wasn't lost
on him.  She lifted it over her head, revealing her firm breasts and
flat belly.  She clutched the garment close to her body.

"Give me that, you dumb nigger," the guard said, irritated.

"Better do like he says, bitch," chuckled one of the inmates.
"Rusty'll do it for sure.  He's a mean motherfucker."

The guard snatched the gown from the black woman's grasp and threw it
towards the two prisoners.  It landed in a mop bucket.

"Showers are turned off, Rusty," added the other inmate.  "Hose still
works, but it's cold."

"Works for me," the guard replied, accepting the hose from the inmate.

Rusty squeezed the handle and began hosing Rashanta's nude body down
with the strong spray of the cold water.  She winced at the high
pressure and chill of the hose water.

"Owww!" she cried.  "That hurts!"

"Shut up and quit your cryin', bitch," said Rusty, exasperated.  "You
think I'm enjoyin' this?"

Rashanta could see the erection in the guards pants, so she knew that
he was indeed enjoying it.  Suddenly the water stopped.  She looked
over at the young deputy.

"There's some soap over there," he pointed out.  "If'n you ever heard
of that, nigger.  Get sudsed up and I'll rinse you off.  Put a move
on.  We're late."

The negress saw the brown bar in a soap dish attached to the tiled
wall.  Harsh soap like her grandma used to buy.  She picked it up and
soaped up under the steady gaze of the red haired guard and the two
white male prisoners.  She was thoroughly humiliated having to put on
a show for them this way.  The black woman was just putting the soap
back in the dish when the spray resumed, startling her and causing her
to yelp.

"All right, bend over now," ordered Rusty.  "Let's wash that nasty
black ass off before we go."

Rashanta bent over and presented her ass to the water jet. She jumped
as it hit her tender flesh, eliciting laughter from the inmates as
they looked on.  It was so hard she could feel it going into her
already sore anus.  It still burned from the abuse she'd received from
her lawyer's dick earlier.  She felt like livestock.  Like an animal
getting hosed down.

"That's enough, girl," said Rusty, with satisfaction.  "I think you
startin' to like it too much!  We ain't got time for you to get your
jollies off it.  Let's go.  Ain't got no towels.  You can dry off when
we get your prom dress."

The white male prisoners laughed again at the guard's words while he
himself smirked.  The colored woman felt hot with shame in spite of
the goose flesh she had from the cold water she'd been hosed down
with.

Rusty led the shivering Rashanta naked out into the main corridor.
Unlike the night of her arrest, the corridor was busy with guards and
inmates.  All enjoyed the sight of the nude black woman walking behind
the young deputy.

"Hey, Rusty!" called one of his fellow guards.  "That your date for
tonight?"

The others with him guffawed at the joke.

"Maybe later," replied Rusty.  "Judge White gets first crack at her."

"Oh, yeah!" responded his friend.  "Hard on Harry'll do her crack
alright!"

Rashanta blushed at the renewed laughter the other guard's comment
provoked.  It humiliated her to not only be naked and exposed to these
white men, but to have them all know how she'd been taken and used by
the judge made it even worse.  She tried to ignore them, but her face
was hot with shame.

The guard and his charge continued to the place where Rashanta had
received her gown and bedding on the night of her arrest.  Annie, the
tough looking white woman, looked up from where she sat behind the
counter.  She stood and straightened the orange prison gown she wore,
smiling menacingly at the slender black woman.

"Well, look who's back!" she grinned.  "The purty colored girlie.
Don't you look all hot to trot all in your birthday suit!  And
drippin' all over the floor.  Don't tell me you got a work out
already!"

"Enough chit chat, Annie," said Rusty.  "Give the nigger a gown so's I
can run her on over to the courthouse.  She got a hot date with Judge
White an' we already late."

"Alright, Rusty," said Annie.  "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

The broad shouldered white woman got an orange prison gown down off
the shelf.  She put it on the counter in front of the slender negress
and eyed her naked body.

"Here you go, meat," Annie told her, leaning forward across the
counter.  "I'll see you later, girlie," she added quietly, so that
only Rashanta could hear.

Rashanta looked at her and Annie winked back and licked her lips.  A
chill ran through the negro's body as she reached for the gown.
Something about the look in female inmate's eyes disturbed her.  It
was as if the older white woman was actually sizing up a piece of
meat.

"I need a towel," said Rashanta.

"Jesus, girl!" cried Rusty.  "This ain't the Ritz!  You're lucky I
don't just haul your bare ass outta here like you is!  Put that
fuckin' thing on now or that's jus' what'll happen!"

The black woman pulled the clean gown over herself.  Unlike the
previous one, this one was tight on her.  Her skin was still wet from
the hose rinsing she'd been subjected to and the garment clung to her
body.  Her hard nipples were clearly visible.  She felt almost as
exposed as if she were naked.

"Fashion show's over, Wallace," announced the guard.  "If'n we any
later, the judge'll tear you a new one."  He smiled.  "Hell, he'll
prob'ly do that anyhow!"

Rashanta followed as Rusty buzzed them through the door to the exam
room.  The red haired guard opened a locker and pulled out a set of
manacles and chains.  He quickly had the cuffs on her wrists and
ankles.  The chain connecting the wrist cuffs to the ankle chain
wasn't long enough to allow her to stand completely upright..

The deputy led his stooped prisoner shuffling through the next door
and finally outside into the bright sunlight.  Instead of the van, a
prowl car was waiting.  Rusty put the chained colored woman in the
back seat and got behind the wheel.  Rashanta stared into the seat
back and didn't look out the windows.

In a few minutes they arrived at the courthouse where the white man
grabbed the hapless black female from the back seat and led her
towards the building.  Rashanta could feel the eyes of onlookers on
her, examining her barely concealed form, especially her hard nipples
and firm breasts that jiggled as she shuffled along.  The chain
between her ankles clanked on the pavement with each step.

They entered the waiting room, but this time after her restraints were
removed she was led straight into the courtroom.  She was left at the
defendant's table standing next to Sam.  Jack was at the prosecutor's
table and Judge White sat scowling behind the bench.

"This hearing was set for one o'clock," he announced.  "You're late.
Let's get started.  I understand that plea bargain agreement has been
reached."

"Yes, your honor," said Jack.  "The people have offered to reduce the
charges to unauthorized use of a motor vehicle in exchange for a
guilty plea."

"Is this true?" the judge asked Sam.

"Ms. Wallace has agreed to plead guilty to this charge," Sam
responded.  "All that remains is the sentence."

"The people are asking for a sentence of six months with all but
thirty days suspended," Jack informed the court.

"Thirty days?" queried Judge White.  "This court takes a dim view of
this defendant's actions.  I'd like to hear from the defendant
herself."

Sam nudged Rashanta.

"Make it good, girl," he told her.

Rashanta swallowed and looked around.  All eyes were on her.  The
judge, the district attorney, the public defender, the bailiff, the
court recorder, and the gallery, which was full of white faces.  She
felt nauseous at the thought of what she must say.

"Well?" prodded the judge.

"I's sorry, yo' honor," she started.  "I's sorry fo' what I done.  I
gots all confused wit' all the papers.  I's jus' a dumb nigga an'
din't know no better.  I swears I ain't never gon' do nothin' like
that again."

The black woman hadn't felt as shamed during her entire ordeal as she
did right that moment.  Standing there, her body clearly visible
beneath the flimsy gown, she had to speak like an uneducated ignorant
country girl, the exact image she abhorred.  Her humiliation smoldered
inside her.

"You have to understand that under normal circumstances I can't allow
you to only serve thirty days," said Judge White.  "Ninety days is
more appropriate in this case.  This court won't coddle criminals and
ignorance of the law is no excuse."

Rashanta felt a lump in her throat.  She hated the thought of even
going back to the jail for ninety minutes let alone ninety days.

"However, I like to think we're progressive enough here to use
creative sentencing where the case merits it," the judge spoke to the
court.  "I'll see the attorneys and the defendant in my chambers to
discuss this.  This court is in recess."

Judge White stood and stepped down from the bench and entered his
chambers though the door in the wall behind where he sat.  Jack
gathered the papers up from the table in front of him and headed in
the direction of the door.  Sam and Rashanta followed.

The judge was seated at his desk, the district attorney in the far
chair on the other side.  One chair remained and the public defender
sat down.  The black woman was left standing in her wet clinging
prison gown.

"Ordinarily, defendants aren't present for these discussions," said
Judge White, "so all you have to do is look pretty, girl.  And I think
you'd look prettier without the gown.  Remove it."

Rashanta was shocked at this blatantly inappropriate request in spite
of everything that had happened before.  Her rape had taken place with
just the judge and his bailiff present.  He didn't seem to care about
even the appearance of propriety now.  He watched along with the two
attorneys as the negro slowly lifted her gown over her head and then
stood naked in front of them, her head bowed.

The slender black woman did catch a glimpse of their faces, staring at
her like she was the cover of a porn magazine as she stripped off her
only garment.  The air felt cool on her dark skin, which was warm with
the shame of exposing herself this way.  She felt very vulnerable in
this situation.  She was completely naked in the presence of three
fully dressed white men, two in suits and one in judicial robes.

"My, you are a fine looking negress," said Judge White approvingly.
"I didn't get such a good look at you from the front the other day.
Put your hands behind your head so I can see your body properly
displayed."

Rashanta looked up and at the faces of the white men seated in the
room.  All eyes were naturally upon her.  She remembered how she'd
stripped in the company vice president's office when she wanted her
own private office.  He'd had the same glassy eyed look as these men
did.

But that time she'd been the one in control.  She'd decided to use her
body to achieve the ends she'd desired.  This time she'd been
*ordered* out of what little clothing she had on.  She had to comply
or face spending the next six months behind bars.  That was no choice
at all.

The colored woman cast her eyes down and lifted her arms from her
sides.  She clasped her hands behind her head.  She could feel her
breasts pushing out towards the white men who were enjoying the view.
She felt like she was nothing more than a pair of tits to them.  The
thought that they didn't even see her as a person, but just a thing,
shamed her.  This was far worse than anything she'd experienced
climbing and sleeping her way up the corporate ladder.

"Very nice!" said the judge, pleased.  "Very nice indeed.  You needn't
feel bad about just being a dumb nigger.  Dumb niggers have their
place in the grand scheme of things, after all.  Now, come over here
close to me, girl.  Don't be shy."

Rashanta swallowed hard and began stepping around the judge's desk and
stood to one side of where he sat.  Jack and Sam's eyes followed her
movements in unison.  The black woman fought hard to keep a brave face
on in spite of the humiliation she felt at being an object of
titillation for these middle aged white men.  Men who she wouldn't
have given a second glance to had she seen them back in her world.
But here in this world, they were in charge.  And they had her totally
under their control.

Judge White reached up and squeezed Rashanta's left breast.  He moved
his hand over to the right one and squeezed it, too.  The black woman
trembled as his hand went across her belly to her crotch.  He brushed
the backs of his fingers over her nappy black pubic hair.  She felt
his hand going between her legs.  The negro knew what the white man
wanted so she parted her thighs to give him access to her pussy.  She
couldn't bear the idea of being ordered to do so.  She closed her eyes
so she wouldn't be able to see the two attorneys watching the show.

"Don't let her protests fool you, boys," said the judge shaking his
head while he stroked the black woman's sex.  "This bitch is soaking.
She loves it.  Niggers love this kind of attention.  It's their
nature.  They can't help it.  Like animals that are always in heat."

Rashanta was mortified.  She knew it was true.  She could smell her
scent rising up from between her legs.  She could feel her pussy
lubricating in spite of herself.  Her humiliation reached a new level
as she realized she was getting aroused by the touch of the man who
had brutally raped her in this very room the day before.

"You're no uppity nigger, are you, girl?" asked Judge White as if
talking to a child.  "You know your place, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Rashanta answered in a little girl voice.

"Excellent!" he said, grandly.  "Now get on your knees and show us.
Show us you know what you are and where you belong."

As if in a trance, Rashanta slowly got to her knees.  She looked up at
the judge from the plushly carpeted floor.  He pushed his chair back
from the desk, never taking his eyes off hers.

"Under the desk, girl," instructed the older white man.  "That's where
I want you."

The colored woman didn't even stop to think about it, she simply
crawled under the desk.  She looked back up at where the judge sat in
his high backed desk chair.  He lifted the black robe of his judicial
office revealing that he wasn't wearing anything under it.  His white
cock was at attention.

"Suck it, nigger," he commanded evenly.  "Suck my dick while we decide
what's to be done with you.  I know you'll do a good job."

This was the most humiliating thing Rashanta could remember having to
do.  To suck this white man's cock.  The man who held her fate in his
hands.  The man who'd sodomized her on top of this desk that she now
kneeled beneath, ready to service him.  And somehow she'd been aroused
and they all knew it.  A tear of shame rolled down her cheek as she
took his dick into her mouth and began softly slurping on it.

"That's a good girl," the judge praised her.

Judge White shifted in his chair and smiled at the two attorneys
sitting across the desk from him.

"Alright, let's get down to business here," he said.  "I'm not about
to just let this nigger walk after thirty days.  Should be ninety.
Sixty, at least.  You know my position on this, Jack."

Rashanta continued sucking the judge's dick as she listened to the
proceedings.  The sounds of wet sucking noises were clearly audible.

"Well, your honor," began the prosecutor, "I figured as much, but I
was thinking that in combination with a little creativity, it could be
made to be acceptable to you."

"Hmmm...," the judge pondered as the negro continued to service him.
"What did you have in mind?"

"A whipping at the jail," answered Jack.  "Ten lashes.  Maybe twenty."

Rashanta stopped her ministrations at hearing this.  She was to be
whipped?  She felt a knot in the pit of her stomach.

"That's entirely different," agreed Judge White.

He frowned and looked down at the black woman whose head was in his
lap, his dick in her mouth.

"Get back to business, girl," he ordered her.  "Don't stop until
you're finished."

"Dumb nigger," he muttered as Rashanta resumed bobbing her head on his
cock.

He returned his attention to the district attorney.  "Yes, I think
justice would be served that way.  Twenty lashes and thirty days
sounds acceptable to me.  Sam?"

"I agree," said the public defender.  "Naturally, I will be in
attendance when the sentence is carried out to, er, look after my
client's interests."

Rashanta heard the white men chuckle at Sam's statement.  Her jaw was
beginning to ache, but she kept slurping and bobbing.  She could taste
the judge's pre-cum.

"Then it's settled," said Judge White.  "So, Jack, interested in a
chance to win your money back this weekend at Hickory Hills?  I've got
a new driver I want to try out."

"I don't know how you do it, Harry," said the prosecutor.  "I have yet
to beat you on the golf course."

The negress continued to suck the judge's dick as the white men made
plans for the weekend.  She felt completely used and degraded.  She
was nothing more than a cocksucking thing to them.  She'd pleasured
him while he chatted about sentencing her to be whipped in the same
manner he discussed his golf game.

Suddenly Rashanta felt a hot jet of semen in the back of her throat as
the silver haired man ejaculated in her mouth.  She was startled and
began to choke.

"Ahhh, yes...," sighed Judge White.  "Better not spill any, nigger."

Rashanta gagged quietly as she swallowed his seed, tears streaming
down her face.  She let his dick slip out of her mouth and worked her
jaw to ease the ache.

"All done, girl?" the judge asked pleasantly.

"Yes, sir," the black woman answered, her face burning with shame.

"Good job," he praised her patronizingly.  "Get up on your hind legs
now.  That's a good girl."

Rashanta crawled out from under the desk and stood.  Her naked brown
body was stiff from being in the cramped position under Judge White's
desk.  Once again, all eyes were on her nude form.

"Let's get this wrapped up," said the judge.  "Get back to your
places.  I'll be out in a few minutes.  Take the nigger with you, I'm
through with her for now."

Sam stood and handed Rashanta her prison gown.  Jack opened the door
and left the room.  The colored woman could see that part of the
gallery could see her standing there naked in the judge's chambers.
She quickly put the garment on and followed Sam back to the
defendant's table.

Rashanta could hear whispering and chuckling behind her.  She was
thoroughly humiliated at her exposure to this assembled rabble.  A few
minutes later, Judge White emerged from his chambers and took his
place behind the bench.  He gavelled the court to order and the
whispers quickly died down.

"Alright, alright, let's have some order here," Judge White addressed
the court.  "Having plead guilty to the charge of unauthorized use of
a motor vehicle, this court sentences the defendant, Rashanta Wallace,
to six months in the county correctional facility with all but the
first thirty days suspended.  Said defendant will also be subject to
corporal punishment in the form of twenty lashes to be administered at
the onset of the sentence.  Bailiff, call the next case."

The judge gavelled the case closed and Rusty the deputy took Rashanta
back to the waiting room where he reattached her wrist and ankle
cuffs.

"Looks like you'll be staying with us for awhile, girl," he said,
grinning broadly.  "I'm looking forward to it."

Rashanta bravely held back the tears and stood as straight as her
chains allowed her.  She shuffled along after the young white deputy
out to the prowl car.  Her head throbbed, her jaw ached, and she felt
a tightness in her chest.

It still seemed unreal.  What had started off as a simple business
trip intended to get her closer to her vacation spot had turned into a
total nightmare.  A misunderstanding had blown up into a jail
sentence.  Where once she'd used her considerable charms and talents
to get luxuries and perquisites from the powerful white men who
employed her, she now used them to minimize the loss of her freedom.
And in too many cases, she'd just been used in exchange for nothing at
all.

The slender black woman thought of the month ahead.  Thirty days in
this hell hole.  Not to mention the twenty lashes of the whip.  The
tears started to flow at last.
<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+