"Thank God for Friday!". Claire Kincaid was certainly happy this week was over. As she left the bar near the Criminal Justice Building, she reviewed in her mind the events that took place during the Jason Mackey trial. It was a case that felt so good to win, because the defendant was so utterly contemptible.

Jason Mackey, the eighteen year old son of a wealthy New York businessman, was charged with the brutal assault of another boy at his exclusive, private high school. Jason had been running his own little syndicate at the school, not for the money (he had plenty of that already), but for the feeling of power and control it gave him. He and his friends, including girlfriends, extorted money from their classmates and were quite ruthless with those who declined to pay. Beatings and vandalism eventually lead to the incident that proved to be Jason's undoing. When one particular classmate continued his refusal to pay, Jason pushed him out a second-story window. The poor kid was now a paraplegic.

Jason's father, of course, hired the best lawyers around, who used every trick in the book to circumvent the system. And Jason's friends were always in the courtroom, staring trying to intimidate the jury and the prosecution team with menacing stares. Claire even got some threatening calls, a girl telling her to "back off, or be very, very sorry." She thought they came from Jason's girlfriend, Delia Hollis, but she couldn't be sure. She had to admit, they rattled her.

All that may have worked, too, had a certain assistant DA not held her ground and played the jury so well. Claire's boss, Jack McCoy, had given the summation to her, and she did, frankly, an absolutely magnificent job, persuading the jury that the boy was not only guilty, but evil. They couldn't get the boy for attempted murder, but they did get felonious assault and conspiracy and twelve years in prison.

So Claire and Jack went to their usual spot for a few celebratory drinks after the big win. She had stayed a little longer and drank a little more than she had planned, and now she noticed it was starting to get dark. She sped her pace a little, wishing she had parked in a less isolated spot. Placing her key in the car door, she heard a noise behind her. Suddenly, hands grabbed her. Before she could look around, a blindfold covered her eyes. Duct tape was suddenly on her mouth, suppressing her scream. She knew she was in trouble.

A girl's voice whispered in her ear, "I told you you'd be sorry, bitch." Claire was scared. She could tell there was a larger group surrounding her, but couldn't tell how many. Then she was pushed into the back seat of a car, and sped off to parts unknown.

About twenty minutes later, the car came to a stop. The girl in the back with Claire pushed her out. From the sound of shutting doors, Claire could tell there was at least one other car. The whole group began walking, pushing Claire along in front of them.

Metal doors opened and closed. The sound of their "clank" reverberated through what seemed to be a large open space. Claire was led for some ways, until the group stopped. As the blindfold and tape were removed, Claire saw the deceivingly sweet-looking face of Delia Hollis, obviously the ringleader of this group. The large room was empty except for a padded chair.

There were five other girls, all similar in age (17 or 18 was Claire's guess) and looking just as well-bred and clean as Delia. Oddly, they all wore skirts, which not only was unusual for any group of teenage girls these days, but was inconsistent with the tougher outfits she had seen in the courtroom. Under normal circumstances, Claire would have thought these were just some nice kids on their way to the mall or something, but from what she had seen and heard during the recent trial, she knew that was way off base.

She tried to reason with them. "Look," she said, "this is crazy. What do you think will happen when they find out you kidnapped an assistant district attorney?"

But Delia was not at all concerned. "They aren't gong to find out," she said.

A feeling of horror stirred in Claire's chest. "My God," she thought, "are they going to kill me?"

Then Delia continued, "There's no way you're going to tell anybody what happens here, Miss District Attorney. Because you'll never want anyone else to know about the things we're going to do, you and us."

Claire's breath was uneven now as her fear and apprehension grew. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked finally, hardly wanting to hear the answer.

"You'll find out soon enough. You see, Ms 'KINK-AID', I'm pretty upset that you sent my Jason away in prison. That wasn't very nice, you know. Now I'm without a boyfriend, and he's locked up with a bunch of prevert convict."

"Look, I was just doing my job ..." Claire interrupted.

"Shut up! You know what it's like in prison, don't you, Ms Kink-aid? But you didn't give a shit! You put him away because it was 'justice'! Well, we're going to get a little justice of our own now. Okay, ladies, strip her."

In a flash, the other girls were pulling off her clothes, popping buttons, tearing her suit. In short order, Claire stood among the six girls, naked except for her panties.

"Put her over the chair," came the next order.

Claire's head was spinning. This was all happening so fast, so strangely. She tried to think ... what could she do? Before she could react, she was bent over the back of the chair, her wrists tied to the front legs, her barely-covered buttocks jutting out behind her.

"Okay, Ms Kink-aid," Delia taunted, "now we're going to get our justice. Only we don't have any prisons or jails to send you to, so we'll have to use a different style of justice - Singapore style."

Claire started to panic as she understood the true meaning of Delia's words. They were going to cane her! After pulling unsuccessfully on her bindings, she tried to use her skills, arguing with them, "Hey, come on, we don't need to do this..."

Delia laughed at her. "No, you don't need this, do you? But we do. And we're going to get it."

Claire heard a swooshing noise and looked up to see one of the girls holding what was to be the instrument of her punishment. It wasn't a cane, but a large, evil-looking paddle, about eighteen inches long and three or four inches wide. Five holes were drilled out of its center to cut wind resustance, and these created the whistling sound as it swept through the air.

"So let's see, what did Jason get, Ms Kink-aid," Delia continued, "twelve years? I think the payback calls for at least a three strokes for each year, don't you girls?"

Claire heard the other girls mutter their agreement, but her mind was racing now. "Twelve ...three ... thirty-six! My God, ....there's no way I can take that!" she thought. Claire knew her own tolerance for pain, and it was definitely low. A simple paper cut would cause her severe discomfort for days. She couldn't imagine what that vicious paddle would feel like when it slammed into her backside.

Claire was immobile, stunned, as she heard Delia command, "Take down her panties. Just to the knees."

Two hands gripped the waistband of Claire's bikinis and lowered them to just above her knees. She was fulling exposed now, her pale white cheeks completely accessible to them, her panties pulled down like a naughty schoolgirl's.

"Look, can't we talk about this?", she asked hopefully.

"You did all your talking in court, bitch. Now it's time to pay for it."

Suddenly Claire heard that noise again, followed by a loud "WHAP!" It took a second or so for her to actually feel the result, but it came with a startling, searing heat through both buttocks. A scream sprang from her lips as she jerked involuntarily against her restraints. Her eyes were wide with the shock and pain of the paddle's impact. The paddle hurt even more than she'd ever imagined it would. She struggled for control, trying to maintain some dignity despite her position. Her breath came in short, desparate gasps.

She heard the girls taunting her, commenting on the paddle's effects, the deep red blotch it had created on her sensitive skin. Then there was that awful swoosh and another wave of stinging pain shot through her. This time it drew just a short shriek as Claire clenched her teeth to suppress anything more. Her eyes shut tightly and her whole body shivered as she tried to remain quiet despite the pain in her backside.

Claire stared intently at the floor. She heard shuffling behind her as Delia passed the paddle to someone else. She heard the swoosh and tensed up, but felt nothing. Then she heard it again and realized the girl was practicing, warming up. A short silence, then that dreadful sweep and "SMACK! .....SMACK! .....SMACK!!!!" in quick succession. Unable to hold back anymore, Claire lost her compusure, howling in agony.

A couple of the girls whooped in appreciation of Claire's reaction. "Nice job, Mara!" they said with a laugh. "Hey, lady, how's your butt feel?" they taunted, "Getting a little hot back there? Wow, look at her ass!"

Tears filled Claire's eyes now. "Why are you doing this to me?" she sobbed.

Delia's voice was filled wth hate. "Because you deserve it, you bitch! You deserve a punishment you'll never forget. And I'm going to make sure you get it. I'm going to enjoy listening to you scream."

Claire couldn't believe this was happening to her. Surely someone would stop it, would come through the door and rescue her from her tormentors. But her reason told her that no one was around, that no one knew where she was, that no one would hear the screams that she knew were inevitable. She was at the mercy of these ruthless young women. Her only course was to endure it and hope that they were not crazy enough to kill or maim her.

"Who's next?" she heard Delia say. From the sound of her voice, Claire could tell that the girl was stimulated by seeing her punished. That sent a nasty chill up her spine.

"Me!" came an enthusiastic reply. Another girl stood behind her, anxious for her chance to blister the young lawyer's tender derriere.

"No, wait a minute," someone said. "Just a second..." Then softly, almost sweetly, "Say, Claire."

Startled at the near-friendly use of her given name, Claire looked over at the speaker. A sudden flash of light filled her eyes. Then she realized - they had taken a picture. They had a photograph of her, bound over the chair, panties down, her bottom crimson with the effects of their labor. And since she had looked over at the camera, the photo would clearly show who it was in this demeaning position.

Claire just dropped her head. A groan of defeat fell from inside her, ending in a hopeless sob. The girls laughed at her despair.

"Sssswack!" Another jolt of pain filled her throbbing hindquarters. More sobs escaped her lips as the girl behind her paused to admire her handiwork. She couldn't believe how Claire's previously milky white cheeks had been transformed into two fiery red orbs. It was a very arousing sight. Unable to contain her excitement, she gave Claire three more hard and fast swats.

"Aaaaaaaaaa ...AAAaaaaiii ...AAAAAI I I I I I E E E E !!!!!!!!" Claire's screams echoed through the empty building now as she began to cry uncontrollably. "....P-P l e e e e a s e...." she begged.. "Stop. ....I can't take any more!"

Delia was high on the spectacle before her. She had reduced this proud, sophisticated woman to a pitiful mess, blubbering like a baby, pleading for mercy. "Ahhh, Ms. Kincaid, of course you can," Delia said in mock sympathy. "And you will. After all, you wouldn't want these other girls to miss out on their fun, would you?"

The other three girls did have their "fun", each paddling Claire, giving the poor woman several good smacks on the ass, until she had endured more than she thought possible. Then Delia took the paddle again and, with renewed enthusiasm, gave Claire five more hard ones, covering every inch of her already burning globes. The last, momentous swat covered both cheeks, driving the chair and Claire's body forward a good six inches.

By now Claire had lost all control and was crying out in one long, continuous wail. Her butt felt like someone was holding a hot iron to it. In her urgent need to relieve the pain, she shifted around, wiggling her tail frantically. First one leg, then the other raised up toward her abused bottom in a desperate attempt to relieve the stinging heat. Several more flashes filled the air as the girls recorded their handiwork. Between frantic gasps and sobs, Claire began to beg, "Please...oh God, please ....stop... no more ... ...please....anything ...I'll do anything... just please stop ...please!!!"

"Say, 'Please stop spanking my butt, Delia'," Delia said. "Say it!"

"P-p-please s-stop spanking my butt, Delia," Claire dutifully repeated.

"Say, 'Even though I deserve it.'"

"Even though I deserve it," Claire sobbed.

"Say, 'And everything else you're going to do to me'"

A new fear gripped Claire at these words, but she had no choice. "And .. and everything ... else ... you're going to do to me."

"Good girl," Delia said sarcastically, as her hand gave Claire a playful, but painful smack on the rear. "We were ready for the next event anyway."

Claire thought they might untie her, but they left her there, over the chair, wondering what would happen next. She heard some activity behind her, but couldn't tell what was happening. Then she felt Delia standing directly behind her and heard her say, "You know what nasty things happen in prison, don't you, Ms Kink-aid? Do you know what can happen to people when you send them away? Well, you'll see."

In horror, Claire felt something cool and wet being pushed between her buttocks, then Delia's hands on her hips. "Oh my God, no!" she cried, "please ... not that ... don't.... "

The other girls began to low, taunting chant as Delia held the fake penis against her entry point. "Rape her! ... rape her!... rape her!... rape her!... rape her!......" They smiled at one another, thoroughly enjoying the complete humiliation of the young district attorney. Claire continued her pleas, straining to see behind her, "No... come on, ... please don't ..."

Delia cut her off, "Say, 'Please don't rape me Mistress Delia.'"

Claire started, "Please don't rape me, Mistress Delia."

"Say, 'Please don't put that up my butt!'"

Claire sobbed, "Please don't put that up my bu..uunghhAAAA!!!!!"

Before Claire could finish the sentence she felt the pressure on her anus, then felt herself opening up as the long, hard object began to enter her. It moved an inch or so and then, with a sudden, savage thrust, split her cheeks and jammed all the way inside. Another squeal filled the air as the stinging on the surface of her bottom was augmented by a stabbing pain deep in her bowels. Her tender rectum was filled to capacity with the girl's evil tool.

As the other girls cheered her on, Delia began to enthusiasticly pound Claire's backside, hammering into her for all she was worth. Each time the fake penis was rammed up her ass, Claire responded, so that a rhythmic "Ow...ow..ow..ow..ow..owwwwww!" reverberated through the empty room.

As the onslaught continued, Delia enjoyed making her suffer, thrusting harder and harder into the increasingly raw flesh of Claire's asshole. Overwhelmed and broken, Claire's outcries gradually dimished until they were finally reduced to quiet grunts and whimpers.

"Hey, I think she kind of likes this," Delia said to her friends. "Maybe we should all give it to her."

Hearing this, Claire managed to respond with a woeful, "Noooooo! Please..." , but Delia was only playing with her. She already had other things in mind. Roughly pulling out of Claire's ass, she had her friends remove her from the chair. "Tie her legs to those pipes," she said, pointing to two pipes about four feet apart.

Soon Claire was lying face up in the floor, her ankles tied securely to the two poles. The rough floor of the factory hurt as it rubbed against her tender bottom. Her hands were loose, but she knew it was useless to do anything. Her ankles immobilized her, and there were still six of her captors. Her only wish was that this ordeal be over.

Now Delia spoke again, her voice seething with contempt. "So... now you know what it feels like to be raped in a men's prison. I hope you appreciate the experience. But we want to give you the other side, too. You need a taste of women's prison."

One of the girls, a pretty strawberry-blonde that Claire recognized from the courtroom, stepped over close to her. Now Claire understood why they had all worn skirts. The girl raised her garment, revealing that she wore no panties underneath. Placing one leg on either side of Claire's head, she she knelt down and began lowering herself onto Claire's face.

Claire's stared up at this latest horror. She had never been with a woman, never even thought about it, and the thought of placing her mouth on this girl's sex organs made her skin crawl. The girl was holding herself just inches from Claire's face, watching her reaction. Claire could see and smell that she was already very excited. The girl spread her lips so Claire could see how wet she was inside.

"Here it is, Missy," she said. "You're gonna eat it, you know. You're gonna eat it until I come on your face. And then your gonna eat all the rest of us. I sure hope you like pussy, lady, because you're gonna have it in your mouth the rest of the night."

Now the girl grabbed Claire's hands and pinned them above her head, making her completely helpless. The she lowered herself, placing her wet parts right onto Claire's mouth. At first, Claire did nothing, having no experience at this. The girl started moving back and forth over Claire's lips, saying "Come on, bitch, do it." Finally, Claire began to use her tongue on the girl, licking at her wet pussy as best she knew how. At first the taste and smell were almost too much for her, but luckily, she soon got used to it.

Claire decided to try to please them as best she could, figuring that the quicker she got each of them off, the sooner it would be over. She started to lick all over the girl's pussy, pushing it inside, noting the girl's reactions and returning to the places she seemed to enjoy the most. It took maybe ten minutes for that first girl to come, grinding herself frantically into Claire's face. The back of Claire's head hurt from the pressure of the hard floor.

One after another, the remaining five girls sat on Claire's yielding face, pasting their wet nether lips to her delicate mouth. And as each girl climbed onto her, Claire dutifully tongued and sucked her until she was thoroughly satisfied. Wanting to degrade the young woman as well as be pleasured, the girls rubbed themselves all over her pretty face, spreading their viscous fluids from her chin to her forehead. Several even pushed themselves down on her nose, forcing it deep inside them, filling Claire's nostrils with the pungent scent of their arousal. They took several photos as she worked on them, making sure to clearly show her face as her tongue tasted each girl's pussy.

At last, it was Delia over Claire's tired mouth, and she knew this was the sixth and final girl. But after Delia extracted first one and then a second orgasm from Claire's now rather experienced mouth, Claire found to her dismay that her plan had not worked. For while her enthusiastic tonguing had sped up the string of girls' orgasms, it had the added effect of stimulating the girls as they watched. So now, as Delia climbed off her quite satisfied, the first girl said, "I want to do it again."

Despairing, Claire just lay there now. She could not respond, but lay limp as the girls simply grabbed her head and used her face to masturbate. A couple got themselves off that way, and a couple gave up, until finally, it was Delia's turn again.

Not content to accept Claire's total submission, Delia wanted another active tongue session. But Claire was spent, hopeless, and nothing Delia could do would revive her. Frustrated, Delia said, "All right, bitch! If you're not going to eat me, then you're going to do something else!"

Claire was only half aware of what was happening as Delia grabbed her hair and pressed her open pussy into her mouth. Then she felt a shot of wet heat and realized that she was tasting the girl's urine! She tried to turn away, but Delia held her in place, screaming, "Swallow it, bitch! Swallow my dirty piss and love it! You cunt! Drink it!"

With the choice of swallowing or drowning, Claire began taking the salty liquid down her throat as this demented girl used her mouth as a public toilet. She heard the other girls commenting, in awe of what was happening, and heard more clicks of the camera.

At last it was over, and Delia rose off the sloppy mess of Claire's face. Pulling her up off the floor, the vengeful teenager placed her agains the pipes and administered a final, spirited spanking with her bare hand. Claire burst into tears, not from the spanking itself, which was tame compared to her earlier trials, but from the sheer humiliation, the final shame of being spanked like a child, knowing that this girl had done anything she wanted to her with no fear of reprisal.

Well, Miss DA," Delia said sarcastically, "Looks like we mussed your make-up a bit. I hope you enjoyed our little time together. I know I did. Maybe we can do it again sometime. We have to go now, but we'll leave you here to get yourself loose. By the time you do, we'll be long gone. Ta ta!" With that, the six girls walked out the door.

After they left, Claire did manage to untie the bindings around her ankles, but then she just lay there for some time. They had left her clothes, probably realizing that this would allow her to cover herself up and minimize any questions as she found her way home. They had left her purse, too, so she could get a cab, as soon as she figured out where she was. But she knew there was one thing she had to deal with before she worried any of that.

Lying there naked on the factory floor, her rear end raw from being paddled, her face and hair soaked with Delia's urine, Claire moved her trembling hand slowly down her body ... and began to masturbate.

The End