By Michael Logan
Published in Cutting Teeth
Coco MacFarland stalked into her dungeon on six-inch heels, lit the candles placed in the many recesses around the room and turned down the light. Shadows danced on the mural covering the back wall, bringing life to the temptresses that lashed and tore at the flesh of prostrate men. Coco picked up her cane and turned to face the naked, blindfolded and gagged client spread-eagled in the centre of the chamber. “Good evening, judge Stewart. Shall we begin?”
Coco circled the judge, dragging the tip of the cane around his bulging midriff. Tremors jangled up the chains that fastened him to iron rings embedded in the ceiling and floor. Like a blind puppy searching for its mother’s teat, he craned his neck to follow the click of her heels on the cobblestones.
“Perpetrated any miscarriages of justice recently?” Coco planted her feet and slashed at the flabby behind. Flesh rippled away from the epicentre of the blow. The judge let out a muffled cry. “That was for the Guilford four. This one’s for, oh…let’s say the Birmingham six.” The cane swished through the air to crack unerringly on the same spot. This time, the judge whined. “Oh, do be quiet,” Coco said. “Nobody likes a cry baby.”
After dealing another four hard blows, she looked into her client’s face. His nostrils flared, and his lips squirmed behind the heavy leather gag.
“Want to say something?” Coco asked.
The judge nodded with vigour. When Coco removed the gag, he let out an unfettered yell then rolled his tongue around his mouth. “That hurt. Don’t you have a code word to say I’ve had enough?”
Coco let out a hoot of laughter. “I decide when you’ve had enough. Isn’t that what you want, judge Stewart? To let go of all that nasty power?”
Coco teased sharp red nails down Stewart’s cheek. He jerked his head away. “No, it bloody well is not.”
“Really? Many of my clients enjoy being helpless. They find power burdensome.”
“Not for me it isn’t.” Stewart spoke in a loud, clear voice. “There’s obviously been a misunderstanding. All I wanted was a gentle spanking, followed by a good hard fuck. I told that to the musclebound buffoons who dragged me here, but they didn’t listen. Where’s that swine Jamieson?”
“Right now, Vixen will be standing on his balls with her nice, sharp heels. It’s his favourite.”
A slough of lines appeared on Stewart’s forehead. “You mean that bastard knew it would be like this? Why the hell did he bring me?”
Coco smiled and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“Regardless of what that sick bugger likes, I’m not into all of this nonsense, so you can take this bloody blindfold off and unchain me.”
“Is that your courtroom voice? I have to say, it’s very impressive. You managed to sound commanding, even with your little winkie hanging out.” Coco flicked the cane against the judge’s flaccid penis.
Before he could react, Coco stepped behind him and hauled the blindfold over his head. When she was sure he had absorbed his surroundings, she slinked into his view. His gaze wandered up her fishnet-clad legs, over the red leather basque that exposed both nipples and onto the red hair that tousled over her satin eye-mask. A lecherous grin appeared on his face. “Now that’s what I was expecting. Unfetter me, and let’s cut to the sex.”
“Patience.” Swinging her hips as she walked, Coco tapped the cane against her leather boot. “Judge Stewart. That sounds familiar. Weren’t you in the papers last week?”
The judge drew himself as tall as his restraints would allow. “Very likely. It isn’t uncommon for the press to be interested in my judgements.”
Coco draped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his chest. “Why don’t you tell me all about it? Courtrooms get me hot.”
Stewart cleared his throat, and his penis nudged Coco’s thigh. “Nothing to tell really. It was a clear-cut case of premeditated murder. The defendant cut her husband’s throat while he slept.”
“Naughty. Did you…” Coco gave him a gentle tap on the bum “…punish her?”
“As severely as I could.”
The judge shivered as Coco brushed her lips against his nipple. “Funny you say murder. I’m sure the papers said manslaughter.”
“Well, she was found guilty of manslaughter, but in my eyes it was murder. Her lawyer tried to come out with a bunch of claptrap about how he beat and raped her for years. That’s ridiculous. How can a husband rape his own wife?” Coco bit down on the nipple. Stewart yelped. “Steady on. That was a bit hard.” He blew onto the injured area then thrust his pelvis against Coco. “You’ve teased me long enough. Let’s get down to business.”
Coco slipped away from the erect member and the judge shuffled forward until the chains pulled taught. A grunt escaped his lips.
“There will be no sex, judge.”
Even in the darkened room, Coco saw his cheeks flush. “This is outrageous! You’re being paid good money to do what I want.”
“No, I’m not. I’m being paid good money to do what judge Jamieson wants. He’s picking up the tab for this.”
“So how do you know what he’s paying me for?” Smirking at the judge’s momentary confusion, Coco continued, “I read your profile in the newspaper: a solid middle-class background; private school; a long career as a prosecutor; an early promotion to the bench. I’ll bet you’ve never had a day’s hardship in your life. I also read about her life. The things that man did to her. I’m surprised she didn’t kill him sooner. Yet you sent her to jail.”
Stewart waved his fingers as though dismissing an irritating lackey. “I’ve had enough of this. I don’t have to justify myself to a common prostitute. I want to talk to your manager.”
Coco grabbed a handful of hair and twisted his head to the side. “Don’t speak to me like that, scumbag. You don’t understand what you’ve got into, do you?” Coco pressed her lips to his ear and spoke through bared teeth. “This isn’t a brothel, dickhead. I take great pride in my work, and nobody, least of all a smug shit like you, comes here and calls me a prostitute.”
She gave his head one more shake, then released her grip. The flush spread to Stewart’s neck. “Unless you stop this right now and let me go, I’ll have your job. I am the customer, and you will listen to what I say.”
“You think you’re still in control of this situation?” Coco pressed her body against the judge and slid the cane up his leg until the tip rested against the entrance to his behind. “Do you want me to stick this up your arse?”
A bead of sweat ran down Stewart’s forehead. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Who’s in control?” Coco wiggled the cane.
Stewart looked over Coco’s shoulder toward the door and shouted, “Jamieson, if you’re watching this, you’ve had your joke. Call this bitch off!”
“Last chance. Whose in charge?” When Stewart didn’t reply, Coco rammed the cane into his anus. The judge froze with his mouth wide open. Coco twisted the cane. “Tell me I’m in charge, and I’ll take it out.”
Although the judge’s voice still retained the haughty elocution, the imperious tone crumbled. “You’re in charge.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Stewart’s breathing ran ragged until Coco slid the cane out of his anal cavity. Even then, he struggled to keep his gasps under control. Coco sashayed to the corner of the room, and returned with a trolley. Stewart stopped breathing as she teased her hand over the whip, the carpet beater, the hair dryer, the taser and the nipple clamp until she settled on a packet of cigarettes. He exhaled when Coco tucked the cane under her arm and lit up.
The judge’s flushing tide had receded, leaving in its wake an unhealthy pallor. Coco put a foot up on the trolley and waved her cigarette. “Let me clear up the mystery. The good judge Jamieson has been rather worried about your sentencing in your short tenure as a judge. He thinks you lack empathy. So, he paid me to do a special on you.”
“An attitude adjustment, to be more precise. I’m very good at it.”
The judge’s gaze flickered around the room. “This has to be a joke.”
“No joke. I’d like to say this won’t hurt, but it will. A lot.”
“Let’s talk about this.”
“I thought you didn’t justify yourself to common prostitutes. Besides, words won’t convince you of anything. You just want to wheedle your way out of this. You need to experience my full repertoire.”
“I’ll report you to the police,” he whined.
“And be front page news in The Sun? I don’t think so.”
He stared at the torture instruments. “I’ll pay double if you let me go.”
“I don’t need the money.”
Coco drew her arm back in slow motion. The judge screwed his eyes shut, and every muscle in his body bunched. Coco counted to ten, watching the judge’s lips quiver, then dropped the cane and pushed her breasts against him. Stewart opened one eye, then the other, as Coco ran her hand down his body. “Got you! This was all just a joke. Your friend put me up to it.” She cupped his testicles, and the rigidity left his muscles.
“Now that’s more like it,” he murmured.
Coco teased him until he was fully erect. As soon as his half-lidded eyes closed, she broke physical contact, grabbed the taser, and jammed it against his crotch. He bucked and let out a high-pitched scream as electricity arced through his groin. Urine ran down his leg and trickled through a grate in the cobbles beneath him. While Stewart twitched, Coco grabbed the carpet-beater and took a practice swing.
Once the spasms had passed, the judge sagged in his chains. Tears ran down his cheeks. “What made you this way?”
Coco’s knuckles whitened on the handle of the beater. “Living in the same world as people like you.”
Martyred innocence seeped into Stewart’s eyes. “But I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Yes, you have. You just haven’t realised it yet.”
The chamber echoed with the slap of punished flesh and anguished cries as Coco set to work. Each yell spurred her on until she was taking run-ups with each blow. When her muscles began to ache too much to wield the heavy beater with sufficient venom, she swapped over to the whip. “How does it feel to know I can do anything, and there’s nothing you can do except hope I stop?”
The judge broke off sobbing long enough to say in a hoarse voice, “Stop, you sadistic bitch.”
Stewart hauled at the chains. Blood ran from the raw flesh around the manacles, guided by his bulging veins so that his arms appeared to have turned inside out. Coco let the rhythmic slap of the leather thong and the monotony of his curses lull her into a trance. Soon she lost count of how many lashes she had dealt him. She only came to herself and stopped when his screams and struggles diminished, and he hung in mute acceptance of the pain.
From the lower shelf of the trolley, Coco produced a bottle of clear fluid, unscrewed the lid and held it before the judge. “Vinegar.”
The vacant look in his eyes dissipated. “Please, no. For the love of God.”
“Now you’re getting into the spirit of things. That’s the first time you’ve said please.”
She poured the contents down his back and smoked while Stewart screamed and danced on the chains like a broken puppet. Once she had finished her cigarette, and Stewart had stopped writhing, Coco armed herself with the hair dryer. “You know, he used to pin her to the bed, and hold the dryer against her until she passed out.”
“No more. Please, no more,” Stewart moaned.
Coco kissed him on the forehead. “Don’t worry. It’s almost over.”
She flicked the dryer onto full power, and held it close to his stomach. The heat built up and Stewart arched his back away. Coco tracked his movement. Over the roar of air, and the rising pitch of his pleas, she spoke into his ear. “Can you smell that? That’s your hair burning. If I hold this here, your skin will start to blister and cook. The agony will be intense. Do you want that?”
“Then beg me for mercy.”
“Please stop. I beg you.”
“Did the woman you sentenced beg?”
“Did you listen to her?”
“So why should I listen to you?”
Snot burst from the judge’s nostrils. “Because it hurts.”
“It doesn’t hurt me, though. Like it didn’t hurt you when you sentenced her. Do you think she felt a little like this, maybe? Helpless? Vulnerable?” Stewart began to whimper. “Her pleas meant nothing, because you had no mercy in you, just like your pleas mean nothing to me. Unless I have mercy in me.” Coco fell silent, and let the pathetic sounds of pain bubble up in the judge’s throat. All traces of arrogance and defiance had long fled, and he stared at Coco with the eyes of a trusting, pleading child. “Next time you sentence someone, think of this moment.” Coco turned off the dryer.
The noise of the blower died away, and the judge’s body deflated until only the manacles prevented him crashing to the ground. Coco lifted his chin. “Now say thank you.”
Saliva ran down the judge’s chin and over Coco’s palm as he whispered, “Thank you.”
Coco left him to dangle, and rang a bell. Almost immediately, two attendants bustled in and unchained him. He collapsed into the waiting arms. Once they had carried the now unconscious judge out, Coco rearranged the tools of her trade on the trolley, and wheeled it into the corner.
With half-closed eyes she stared at the mural and let the suggestion of movement take hold until the whips rose and fell, and she could almost hear the babble of voices calling for clemency. “Next!” she called and reached for her cane.