Trying Times

To my relief, Greyson is fully clothed. I don't know what I would have done if the rumours of his recalcitrance had proven true. We catch each other's eye and smile encouragingly. This will soon be over, one way or another. The courtroom is crowded, but orderly despite the fact that many persons have come here holding placards as well; most in support of, but a few others against Greyson and me. No one wants to be thrown out so despite the show of defiance there is a respectful stand-off inside the building in general and in our courtroom in particular. Greyson and I are a spectacle that everyone wants to see.

Greyson and I are escorted to the dock and made to sit next to each other. When they remove our handcuffs he turns to me and hugs me tightly. He nuzzles my ear and kisses me deeply on the mouth. I hear the crowd stir around us. No one, including me, can believe this public display of affection given the circumstances. He ignores them and continues kissing my face and neck and palming my breast until I am quite aroused.

The judge arrives and glances briefly at us in disbelief. He gestures to Greyson's lawyer who calls to Greyson that things are about to start. The judge sits and the proceedings begin after everyone has settled down again. Jury selection goes without a hitch. No one claims any religious or political objection about being here. Several persons, not selected for jury duty, choose voluntarily to remain in the public gallery to witness the proceedings.

Then to everyone's absolute shock, Greyson calmly stands and removes every stitch of his clothing. His sculpted body is absolutely beautiful, but it is still startling to see it displayed in a court of law in the middle of a trial. I see several people, men and women, suppress hungry smiles as they look at him; his well-developed musculature, his tight butt, long cock, strong arms, torso and legs. I think that they feel that they understand my weakness for him now.

He turns to look at me; his muscles rippling delightfully with every movement. His expression is calm, but I know that he is waiting for something. There is an expectant glint in his eyes.

I stare back at him, wide-eyed. I can't believe what is happening! Greyson isn't even trying to save himself! Doesn't he love me? Why risk us before, and even more so now? How can this end well for us?

He says nothing but continues to stare at me. He smiles slightly and glances down. I follow his eyes and see that his cock is beginning to harden. This is not a good thing! He is becoming aroused! He does have a plan!

Then I hear his voice in my mind clearly! He says to me as clearly as he has done myriads of times before:

"Don't you wish to please me, slave?"

"You know I do, Master!" I think as I find myself tearing up.

I resist the impulse, but I know that I will lose. I know what I must do. It is what I do every time he gives me a task. I obey him. I obey him, ultimately, proudly. I will humiliate myself further for him. I am not the beauty that he is! I have a pudgy tummy, thick thighs and my boobs sag considerably. I have never understood what Greyson saw in me physically in the first place, and now the rest of the world will wonder about that as well.

I plead with him silently, but he just continues to stare at me and I see him actually begin to dribble precum! This cannot be happening! My prolonging the inevitable is only exciting him more! Worse of all, I am not the only one seeing this, and the noise in the courtroom increases as people watch the silent war of wills. I get to my feet slowly, and then, less calmly than Greyson, but just as resolutely, I strip myself naked next to him in the dock."

"You know that I don't like you to cover yourself, slave," I hear in my head. "I adore you, my sweet pet, and I want to show you off."

I cannot disobey him. I toss my hair back out of my face. This small defiance about showing my huge, swinging breasts clearly to the open-mouthed judge, jury and legal team gives me a little courage, but only a little. I hold on to the railing of the dock tightly because I have begun to hyperventilate and I faint. My pinkie finger reaches to touch Greyson and I feel his pinkie stroke mine gently.

"Thank you for your obedience, slave. You know that I love you for this gift," he whispers.

There are cheers of support for us from the members of the public who recover their aplomb most quickly, but an explosion of protests from the startled judge, the attorneys, several of the people watching and the jury. They know that Greyson is a loose cannon, but they obviously had hopes for rehabilitating me. I am, after all, one of them, and I'm a highly-educated one of them to boot. The investment into socialising me and making me who I am was not small. How could I have thrown that all away to become a mindless slave to an alien invader? Sadly they have forgotten that Greyson, and what I do with him, are also responsible for making me who I am. I credit him with making me stronger and better.

I know that Greyson is looking around at the people in the room with us to gauge their reaction to us. I, on the other hand, look stoically at the court's Mission Statement hanging framed above the judge's chair. I fight back tears of despair.

It takes a two hour recess and a visit to the judge's chambers for the trial to begin again. Both Greyson and I assure the judge personally that we understand the possible consequences of our protest action. We are likely to spend a long time in prison for contempt before Greyson is deported if the jury does not acquit us outright. The judge has decided to support our right to protest in his courtroom, so Greyson and I will sit through the trial naked. All the attorneys in the room look at the judge disbelievingly. I find this ruling strange myself, since I thought that the law was cut and dry about these types of things, but I see Greyson fight down a smile. His attorney thanks the judge for being willing to listen to our side of the argument even if they must be presented in Greyson's unusual way.

The prosecution takes little time in laying out its case. The lead goes for Greyson's jugular. It is not difficult since Greyson has exposed it literally and figuratively with his nude courtroom protest. He is brutal and Greyson offers all the arguments that he has ever given me. The prosecutor would have made a great fire-and-brimstone preacher of old and I can see that Greyson's stubbornly calm insistence that he and his fellow Yluki are a reality that are here on Earth to stay and that this trial is not about indecent conduct in a public place but rather a politically-motivated farce that seeks to disguise the creeping intolerance of multiculturalism, diversity and self-determination, is not coming off well when compared to this man's more passionate presentation of his arguments. It's funny, in this day and age, we look to the scientist only for some things; we look to the preacher for other types of guidance.

I see people looking at the prosecutors' triumphant back-slapping at their table, and I hear a growing murmur of comment pass through the room just before I hear my name called. My heart skips a beat, and when I look at Greyson coming toward me back to the dock I notice that the judge glances at him with a puzzled look on his face. He seems as annoyed with Greyson and his cavalier attitude with my safety as my lawyers and I are. I decide that the judge is a decent man after all. I drop my hostility toward him personally and focus on preparing myself to answer the questions that I'm asked as clearly as possible. I realise that it is only in being seen as a sane, self-determining woman that I will have any chance of acquitting myself of these charges. I am not a public menace, despite how I'm being portrayed. I too am a scientist. I am a rational being, and the prejudice and fear that have pervaded the society since the backlash against the Yluki are anything but rational.

I don't know if anyone sees the brief squeeze of the hand that Greyson gives me as we pass each other. I don't care anymore. I am afraid of my bleak prospects as I see myself unhappily taking the veil for the rest of my life. I mark the moment of our contact since I do not know when I will touch him again, and proceed to my spot next to the judge. He looks away, slightly embarrassed as I stand next to him. I sigh. I know how he feels. Were it not for Greyson I would not be showing my huge body in public like this. Like me he must be wishing for a more genteel time.

"Is your name Emily Myerson?" the lead prosecutor asks.

"Yes it is, Sir."

"We're not in a BDSM forum here, Dr. Myerson."

"I was just trying to be polite to you."

I see the judge stamp down a smile and glance at me. He averts his eyes again, quickly.

"Are you the human woman who was caught in a compromising position with the Yluki, Greyson Xouerap on..."

"My Lord! I simply must object!"

My attorney has jumped to his feet. The judge waves him be seated.

"I think that we all know that she's human and that the position for which she is being tried is compromising. Could you be a little less histrionic Mr. Reeves? I must say that I'm beginning to wonder, like the defendant, Mr. Xouerap, what's really going on here."

Reeves stood staring like a deer in the headlights at these words.

"I-I-I'm sorry my Lord!" he back-pedalled quickly.

"Dr. Myerson, what is the nature of your relationship with Greyson Xouerap?" He tried again.

"We are lovers."

"You are a little bit more than that, aren't you though, Dr. Myerson?"

"My Lord?"

"Mr. Reeves!"

"You regard yourself as Dr. Xouerap's slave don't you, Dr. Myerson?" he amends hurriedly.

"Mr. Reeves!"

"Whatever the label, it's still a consensual relationship between two adults."

For some reason I realise that even if Mr. Reeves moves outside the strictest interpretations and presentation of the law to do it he can still hurt Greyson and me. I realise that he is a man prepared to do so. To get out of it I cannot afford to offer a defense of my actions, this will have to be a wrestling match in which I take the offensive at least equally well.

"So you say, Dr. Myerson," he sounds condescendingly amused.

Yes, I am a highly educated woman, I ought to know better. I get his point in using my accomplishments against me.

"The facts are that you were nude in a public place. At one point, you were tied to a tree and he was flagellating you..."

The police had been there longer than I had suspected. Suddenly, I feel myself blushing at the thought of what these men had seen and heard. I know that it will all come out here. They will embarrass me into surrender; rape me emotionally as an act of aggression. They are doing to me what they are telling me that they will not tolerate from Greyson! My shame does not intimidate me this time; it makes me annoyed with myself. I am not guilty of anything except having sex with the man I love! Since when was that a crime?

"You were both engaged in this as an act of sex in a public space."

He makes our guilt sound so cut-and-dry.

Then glaring at Greyson in the dock, the prosecutor offers me a way out. It is clear that he wants to get Greyson, not me. I refuse to accept it.

"The police report then shows that he threw you on the ground and forced himself on you. Perhaps the beating was forced on you as well?" he asks.

"I was there in the park with him by choice," I declare bravely.

The prosecutor looks at me hard. I am trembling, but the prospect of losing Greyson has given me courage.

"The state does not have the same rights as the individual to choose a lifestyle!" I croak. "The state is, by definition, more conservative because it has to be responsible in the interest of everyone, but if it imposes this standard directly on the individual it becomes repressive. We have fought for centuries on this planet against repression of any kind! How did we get to this place now? I admit that the pendulum swung too far after the Yluki first came to Earth, but holding it in place equally far on the other side is wrong! It's unnatural! Nudity is not! My choice to live a BDSM lifestyle is not!"

For some reason the hush in the room when I pause for breath frightens me. I don't think that I was expecting an ovation after my speech, but the strange silence breaks down my fledgling resolve to fight for Greyson. Suddenly, I begin to wonder if the prosecution and law-makers do not have a valid point. I begin to lose faith in my ability to make sound decisions for myself. I begin to lose faith in Greyson's ability to protect me. I begin to despair that I have allowed myself to become someone who needs protection from others!

"I haven't asked you a question, Dr. Myerson," the prosecutor reminded me. "You speak only when asked a question.

I feel my nipples harden painfully at Mr. Reeves' words. My eyes search out Greyson's as he stands proudly in the dock. I can see that he recognises and forgives my two weaknesses. This gives me strength. I try again.

"You sound like Greyson when you tell me to speak when I'm spoken to. Unless you want to have a sexual slave woman fawning at your feet right here in open court, Mr. Reeves, I'd suggest that you don't speak to me like that again."

I think I hear a titter run through the room. I can't be sure because I am becoming highly worked up.

"I am an educated woman; yes! I know exactly what is best for me! I do not need to know any better, Mr. Reeves; I know that's what you're thinking. I have been making decisions for myself and for others for years. No one found serious fault with any of those decisions until I was arrested. Doesn't that say something to you?"

"Be quiet, Dr. Myerson!" the prosecutor barks.

"I will not be quiet! I may have no rights to express myself sexually, but I still have the right to speak or will that go next?" I shout back.

This time I actually hear the shocked hush in the room. Obviously some of the people in the room hadn't thought through the logical conclusion to the slippery road on which our Government had embarked. Given the signs that we've seen and heckling that we've heard today for many it is a clear case of trying to advance both the BDSM and nudism agendas. For Greyson and, belatedly, me, it is much more. It is a case of fighting for our right to choose our way of life. The causes are ultimately incidental.

I see Mr. Reeves look to the judge for help. He gets none.

"I cannot see where we have agreed to the right of the state to prescribe our thoughts and regulate the actions of two consenting adults in their bed."

"You were naked in a public park! You were wearing only a collar and leash!"

I ignore him when I see some of the members of the crowd turn to face me to see what answer I have to this particular volley. If it weren't so serious I probably would have laughed at the imagery of the tennis match that springs to my mind.

"Yes, we were in a public park, and we were skyclad, and yes, we were making love; but we were well off the beaten track. If the police hadn't been following us we wouldn't have been seen by anyone. We were not corrupting anyone's morals. No one except the policemen who arrested us and the people in my prison cell saw that collar and leash. There were other people there in that park before we were that evening and none of them was arrested or even fined. I know this for a fact because I have checked. I have to agree with Greyson, w-with Mr. Xouerap, there is something amiss here. We have been singled out unfairly."

I pause when he says nothing. I guess he did not expect me to go so directly on the attack.

"Please try to understand. I was with the man I love. I have been with him exclusively for the past four years. Believe me, I am not a loose woman! Surely you can see that I must reserve the right to tell him that I love him in the way in which I choose. What if someone prevented you from being with your wife? What if someone forbade you from kissing her or smiling at her?"

I see him open his mouth to say something so I rush ahead, cutting him off. I'll lose my nerve if I stop now so I daren't allow him to interrupt my rant.

"What we do is our communication or our bond; it's our way of staying together. I have surrendered my will to him. I do accept spankings from him, but I assure you that he does not abuse me. It is my choice. He gave me a safe word a long time ago but I have never had to use it. He does not hurt me even though he gives me pain on occasion. In fact, he has never taken me even close to my limit physically. For us there is the emotional dimension that is more challenging, but I have never been hurt in any way by Mr. Xouerap."

"The Government..."

"When I am with Mr. Xouerap, the Government is the last thing on our minds!"

I hear laugher in the room around me, but I am becoming worked up, and do not mean to stop until I have said my piece.

"Tell them Sistah!" someone shouts encouragingly. "Your man is fine!"

"You got that right!" someone else hollers.

"Dr. Myerson!" Reeves screeches, trying to regain control of the situation. "Are you suggesting anarchy? Because of you there are people defacing public property, the incidence of disorderly conduct has risen over 4,000 percent and prostitution has resurfaced. Are you..."

"Let her finish, Mr. Reeves. I want to hear what she has to say," the judge cautioned.

"Thank you," I say curtly, turning to the judge.

I feel the change in the room with the judge's permission for me to speak, and so ignore the prosecutor standing before me to address him and the jury. I feel as if I have stepped outside of myself as I speak to them from my heart.

"What we do is a private matter between us. I have allowed him to take mastery of my body and my actions and my thoughts. I have not allowed the State the same privilege. To force the State's will on me is to rape me and surely that cannot be condoned by the law! I resent being forced to stay away from the man whom I have chosen as my best friend, the source of my strength and as the man with whom I want to spend the rest of my life! How can the State tell me whom I can love and how I may express that love. I thought that we eradicated that kind of thing from the face of the Earth in the twentieth century! The proponents of the BDSM lifestyle were perhaps unwise not to come clean and make their case when others were fighting for gay and transgender rights but the arguments that they made then hold here as well for this. I am talking about my human rights here. I have a right to safety and I feel safest when I am with Mr. Xouerap! I have a right to self-determination, even if I then choose to express it in a way of which you do not approve so long as I am not hurting anyone else or trampling on his or her human rights."

I pause for breath. My chest is heaving and my fists are clenched; and I see, for the first time, looks of appreciation in the eyes of many of the men other than Greyson. I feel a confident power that I have only ever felt with Greyson when in the privacy of our bedroom. For me, it is the same transcendent strength that I feel after delivering a great lecture or a perfect presentation at a conference. I understand that at last, I have reached the essence of my soul. I understand why it is that I am a scientist. I see clearly that the need to do and be more surpasses my electronics lab and has moved, with Greyson's help, into my social life as well. I have warmed to my task to protect Greyson, and my right to be with him, and my passion is there for all to see. I toss my dreadlocks back defiantly and look the prosecutor straight in the eye.

"And to answer your question, Mr. Reeves," I say turning back toward the prosecutor with the deliberate tones of giving a carefully worded order; "no, I do not support anarchy. My protest here today is about preserving my right to choose my lifestyle, it is the repression that your employers, our Government, has wrought that is about to explode into anarchy. From what we have seen and heard here today, I am not the only one who feels that things are grossly wrong here. I am not the only one who is tired of this attempt to divert our attention away from the things that are really going on. We had problems before, but Mr. Xouerap was not a part of these. He came to this planet after those problems. I was a child, I was not a part of them either. You cannot demonise people who were not a part of our problems of the past for our problems today. I am not a prostitute and Mr. Xouerap does not frequent them, so we cannot be held responsible for your problems if they really do exist, Mr. Reeves. Inducing fear is no way to govern. Surely you know that. No one has been able to suppress man's intuition for so long as this Government has, but you have seen the signs. Even if Greyson and I lose here today, there will be others, I promise you!"