Image Nine Point Four

Timpson is indignant, but Nigel and his second are both agreeing. The elderly judge says, "Quite right, Mrs Jones. That was exactly the feeling in our day. Pain and embarrassment were comparatively minor impositions on our freedom, you see. Of course, dropping one's trousers in front of ones peers and masters inevitably led to arousal... Old enough to drink, but still having to display your bum like a..." He tails off.

"Even with the masters who didn't cop a feel," Nigel reminisces.

"Were there any?" his co-judge asks.

"Mm. I couldn't possibly comment."

The woman judge speaks. She's very no-nonsense, clearly also a product of an English private school, in the same era as Nigel. "Thankfully for us girls, a slipper on the clothed backside was considered sufficient! Or on the hand, more often..."

Kash coughs. "So the three of you would accept that, say, the six cane strokes in image nine point four wouldn't necessarily be torture, nor cause ongoing trauma?"

"Certainly not," Judge Jenks, the older man, snorts. Nigel nods.

"But we're not arguing that!" Timpson wails; Kash notes that phrase on his pad. "Corporal punishment in schools was banned for many good reasons. We're proposing that images of it for sexual pleasure be removed for many of the same reasons, in particular for the victims!"

"Victims?" I ask. "I've just been explaining how many people freely consent to such activities on a regular basis, because they enjoy it! I enjoy it, even!"

"Be serious," Timpson snaps. "I could accept that someone might enjoy a light spanking, as described by many authors. Image 9.1, even with the additional markings, for example. And that some of the implements in 9.2 could be used with care, gently, as well as harshly. But no, I do not accept, can not accept, that anyone agrees to such treatment as in 9.3 or 4 and enjoys it!"

There's a silence. I'm speechless, seeing as I can't tell her, 'you're a fucking idiot'.

Kash looks at me. Nigel is also looking at me, impassively. I glance over at the audience, where the religious guys are practically ejaculating and the 'feminists' look smug. Melons is outraged. John's muttering, 'That's just wrong...'

Mike, my lovely husband, blows me a kiss. He mouths, indignantly, "She just called you a liar!"

My god. The man's a genius.

"Ms Timpson. I do not appreciate being called a liar. Especially in court." I speak firmly, in command of myself.

Kash smiles slightly.

"Well, I'm sorry, but the evidence just doesn't prove it."

Kash grins, like the Big Bad Wolf. "In that case, what evidence would prove it to you?"

Oh god. I think I know where this is going...

"Well! I mean... I'd need to see..."

Kash accuses her, "I hope you aren't saying you'd deny any evidence, no matter what?"

"Of course not," Thompson interrupts, before his colleague can scupper their case. "Convincing evidence seen with our own eyes would be sufficient."

I really hope they mean a field trip to a club.

Timpson has recovered. "Obviously, if someone were to re-enact images like 9.4 in front of us, clearly enjoying it, that would be convincing."

She's thinking no-one would. Daring me.

It's around my limits, I have to admit. Nine point one is more me, most of the time, with some features of nine point three and four. But with enough pleasure to help me get there... For a good cause...

I glare back. "That could be arranged. Right here, you mean?" It's never going to happen, so I'm just forcing her to be the one who backs down first.

"May we discuss arrangements, my lord?" Kash wants to speak to Nigel. I'm still not sure who's winding up whom, here.

"This is most irregular! We can't have a courtroom turn into a, a porn club!" Timpson feels out of control.

The female judge, Cooper, speaks. It's the first time I've heard her. Her posh country-set voice reminds me of Jilly Cooper, the author. Maybe they're related. "May I remind you of the cases of R v Longfellow, and R v ..."

English criminal court cases are always cited as the Crown, R for Regina, or nowadays Rex, King, against the defendant's name. Judge Cooper explains a few cases where there were interesting displays of evidence. One involved a tattoo artist tattooing someone in court. "That sounds like a precedent to me," she says.

Kash beckons me over to where he and Nigel are having a confab.

"You are under absolutely no obligation to do this, you know." Both of them really want to make that clear.

"I know," I tell them. "But it seems like the best way to totally demolish their case."

"True. Right. Now, there's a chaise-longue in the robing room next door. We can bring it in here. Would that work?" Kash has thought about this. Cunning bastard.

"We have to do it here?"

"It would have to be here, yes," Nigel says, "assuming they don't back down. But we could bring in any... necessities, if the Crown barristers agree."

"We'll need the relevant equipment. Mike can borrow..." I remember Mike isn't actually good at caning.

I look over at him. He pushes John; they both come over, Melons behind them.

"Who's going to do the honours?" Nigel asks. I swear he's getting off from this, under his loose gown.

Mike says, "I think John should do it. He's more skilled."

"Could you leave us a moment, Nigel?" I ask, but he's darting over to the other barristers. "Thing is, I'm going to need the pleasure to get through this! Would you be OK, love, to have me being fingered by John, in front of this audience?"

"As opposed to the audience in the Fortress or Inferno? Who've seen you be a happy slut for him, how many times? Sure. I'll be sitting by your hands, watching your face! As usual!" Mike delegates hardcore sadism to others, while he gets off on how I respond.

"You concentrate on him, love. It'll be fine," John says.

"Mm. I'm not sucking his cock in front of the judges!" Mike pretends to be disappointed. "I've never had outright disapproving people watching before."

"Yeah, but they'll have consented to watching! It's kinda hot, I think." Definitely something Mike would find hot.

"Uh-huh. I'm not being fucked in front of a judge, thank you. Nor barristers."

"Nigel will be gutted," Mike observes. "Shame. I'd love to prove what a fantastic slut I married."

"Some things stay in your fantasies, pet! Right, so if this happens, I'll be getting tied up, spanked, caned and fingered, in front of an audience, half of whom think I should be locked up and half the other half are trying to hide their erections..."

"And the video camera," Melons says. "The other side are adamant -- if this is to be entered in evidence, there has to be photographic or video evidence."

"Oh, fuck."

"Don't worry, love. I'll do it."

"No sneaky editing, mind," Kash warns him.

"No worries, mate. If you have your bench facing this way, then her arse here, then I set up a tripod, here. Are you left or right-handed?" he asks John.

"Right. Why?"

"So, if you happens to step a bit sideways, in front of the camera, your arm will be hidden, and they won't pick up that you're playing with her pretty pussy."

"How do you know it's pretty?" I snap. I feel bad, because Melons is trying to be helpful.

"Never met one that wasn't!" He grins, claps me on the shoulder. You're one of my girls, now! I'm looking after ya!

Suzy gives me some tips on porn acting. "When you make noise, 'ah' and 'oh' sound much more like you're enjoying yourself. 'Ee' sounds like you're more in pain, so you don't want to make that noise in front of this lot. If you can manage a 'yeah, yeah', that would be grand. Do you want me to do your makeup, beforehand? Make you look a bit more different?"

"Thank you. Yes, please."

There's arguing from the opposing side about letting observers stay. Nigel, the hypocrite, is objecting to 'excessive salacious interest', while all those in favour of censorship want to watch. Kash points out the irony; a couple have the decency to look embarrassed. After long negotiation, we agree the judges and barristers all stay, plus John, Mike and Melons, the court artist and Jenni, plus one of the religious objectors. The last one isn't particularly justifiable, but I think we'd all lost the will to argue.

Nigel dings his glass again. "Attention, everybody. We will adjourn for at least two hours for lunch. Those of you required for this afternoon's session, please return at two o'clock." Everyone leaves except me, Kash, John, Mike and Melons.

Kash says, "I called up Honour, near Waterloo." They're a high-quality fetish shop. "They're happy to donate a corset or any extra kit you need for this afternoon, put it on my account. Get a cab down there. I've set up a tab with the sandwich shop next door, too."

I need fuel, but I couldn't manage a meal in these circs. Maybe a bit of soup? "Let's get this chaise-longue out, then."

The lads pull the elegant couch into the middle of the room. Wooden, robust, with red-leather upholstery, obviously. It's as well John is right-handed -- if he sits in the middle, I can lie over him, my feet on the ground at the open end. Later, he can restrain me over the end that has an arm, a roll of leathern upholstery like a Chesterfield, perfect for bending over.

"We'll need arm and ankle cuffs, two sections of rope, ten feet or more," John makes notes on his phone.

Melons marks the positions for his tripod, with tape on the carpet. He heads off to collect his cameras. "Wait for me at security," Kash warns.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Mike squeezes my hand as we look around the fetish shop. "You know you don't have to." My husband tries to sound neutral.

"I know. But come on -- apart from being the only way to actually make a legal breakthrough, isn't it also a little bit hot? Tell me if that Christian Word wanker gets a stiffy." His group are the type of hate-not-love 'Christians' which give all Christians a bad name. "Also, you know me. Anything to acquire a new corset!"

Mike laughs. It's almost true -- I do have a weakness for corsetry. He is very helpful with that part of the purchasing. We pick an elegant long-line bottle-green corset, watered silk. "It won't clash with the red in the room," he observes. "Shall I tighten it now?"

"No. You take it through Security with Kash and the others. I'll wander through myself, as if I don't know any of you. There may be paparazzi looking for Kash and people with him. I'll see you up there."

John gets my agreement to all the accessories for re-enacting Image Nine Point Four. He had the crop already, but needs to buy the rest: the nipple clamps with chain hanging down, a leather paddle, a thin, whippy cane. I turn down his suggestion of a firm dildo.

"To keep up my sleeve. Or pocket. If it gets a bit much and I need to cheer you up, fast," he explains.

"It's a lovely idea, but it would be too hard to be subtle. Your fingers will be fine, love."

"If you're sure."

"Yes. OK. Remember what Melons said about blocking the camera."

"Oh, I do! Now, you're not submitting to me, is that right? What are you going to call me?"

Normally, I'd be falling wildly into subspace, starting by calling him Sir. I don't think I could do that today.

"Professor?" I suggest.

"Oh, you sneaky bitch!" He explains, "I'll be getting hard every time someone calls me that, in future!"

I glance at his crotch. I know he won't.

"All right, not. Very well, call me what you like. What do I need to say, if anything?"

I giggle. "Say I've been accused of being the original of a compromising photo, so we need to re-enact it to discover the truth!"

Kash says, "I'll explain at the beginning that this scene is a role-play to provide evidence that a woman can enjoy such activities as would produce an image such as nine point three or nine point four..."

"Nine point three too? I said no gags!"

"Yes, that was fine. But the rest of it would help, if you could?" I nod. "So a collar, to attach wrists to, would help."

We add more items to the bags.

I head back to Parliament in a separate taxi. I try to look my normal self as I pass all the armed police and security officers. I'm shaking a little as I use the Ladies and put my hair back in the bun. Back in the wood-panelled corridor outside the committee room, there's the Christian Wanker and the artist, with a chaperone escorting them. I check my pass is hidden.

The artist is a chatty lady in her sixties. "My job is to give the impression of what's going on. I don't need to identify you, but on the other hand if you'd like one of the sketches as a souvenir...? She shows me her set of pastels and invites me to pick out a shade for my hair. I suggest a slightly warmer, lighter reddish-brown, and point at the shades of green which my corset will be. She selects colours to use for my skin, a grey for the cameras. She lets me look through her sketchpad. She's done the surroundings of the room already, then left white spaces to fill in. With me.

Judge Cooper comes to unlock the door, just before Melons returns, with Nigel escorting him. He explains his cameras are battery powered, and he can simply hand over the currently-empty memory cards at the end, but he'd like them returned after the court have made their copy. He gets me to bend over the arm of the chaise-longue to get the tripod in the best position, then to raise myself up at the other end, as if lying across someone's lap. Nigel offers, quasi-jokingly. I politely decline. Cooper snorts, clearly knowing Nigel well. "He's mostly joking," she assures me. "He does actually understand consent. Just as well, seeing as he ruled in R v..." A landmark rape case. I relax a bit more around him.

I'm still relieved when Mike and the others return. "It took a while to get past Security," Kash apologises. "'They're for a friend' didn't quite cut it, so there was rather more discussion than I'd planned, explaining to the heavily-armed heavies..."

"They were very nice about it, though," Mike explains. "Come on, let's get you changed." We step into the robing room. He gives me a big kiss. "I love you so much," he reminds me. "Here's the corset. Cor. Bet you never thought you'd be getting naked in the House of Lords!"

"I'm sure I could shag Nigel, any time," I remind him.

"I'd prefer you didn't." He knows I won't. I'm a one-cock woman. For being fucked, anyway. It's equal: his dick doesn't go in anyone else, either. Forsaking all others; we just skirt the edges of that. It makes life fun.

I'm very relieved when Mike shows me the new black silk knickers he picked up. The ones I'd been wearing were clean, but not intended to be on show.

Mike helps attach my stockings to the corset, then the beautiful smooth pants over the top, my shoes back on. I'm used to this, showing off my curves. With all my clothes on, I'm an invisible woman in her late forties. Like this, I know men drool.

Skirt and blouse back on, I feel powerful. I have a secret. It's why I often wear stockings to work; this is just an extension of that idea. My posture improves, not just because of being held upright.

A knock on the door. It's John. He's holding the pictures we have to replicate. "We should discuss this."

"Nine-three is easy enough. Take off my top and skirt, you can scoop my tits out of the corset, put the clamps on, you know I'll love it!"

"Fair enough. Shall I do the talking, like any demo workshop?"

"And I'll be a mostly-silent demo bunny? Yes. That should work."

"Then I'll put the collar on you, before I pull your new briefs down to your ankles and put the clamp set on your lower lips, too?"

"Yeah. I'll be looking at the floor. Not so much submissive, but so I don't have to see those judgemental wazzocks getting off on it. Or even the ones who aren't being judgemental, just... judges!"

"Will you need a bit of...?" John mimes, how he often uses his fingers to good effect.

"I don't think so, not for that. Mike, you stay with me, hand on my back -- or backside, yeah?"

"Of course, babe."

"Right. Then Melons or Kash can take the Polaroid photos."

"Kash, I think. Melons will do a video of you walking round the room." Mike decides.

"Those images don't include walking!"

"Just as well you're not in ridiculous heels! But if you're proving that clamps can be great for more than a moment, you might as well." Mike hides a grin as he looks at me. He is hugely looking forward to having me on show and being admired by at least half of the room. He loves showing me off.

"Fair enough." I picture myself, naked except for corset and stockings, chains swinging between my legs and from my nipples, walking around that Committee room for three High Court judges, three barristers, and the other observers.

I've never exactly been an exhibitionist, preferring only to get my kit off for people I'm directly playing with, or in small friendly clubs, but I can't deny this prospect is turning me on no end.

Just as well, seeing as I'm about to do it.

"Right. Then you lie over Mike's lap, and he can spank you up. That shouldn't be too difficult," John says.

"Yes. You might want to explain that usually, you wouldn't switch positions mid-scene, so as not to interrupt my concentration."

"Good point. Then we work up to nine point four. Bend you over the arm of the chaise. Ankles cuffed and bound to it, so your legs will be apart, but not that far apart. Do you want hands behind your back like the photo, or attached to your collar?"

"Collar would be more comfy."

"Right. I'll do that. Then I need to get you all marked up." He looks at the photo, then me, then back. There's bruises from the flogger, as well as our red background, and crop marks. Which do you want first?"

"Let's see. The crop marks are going to sting, round the sides and down my thighs. I'd start with the flogging. Gentle, then ramp up."

"Of course. And I can come in close to play with you a bit, when I start with the crop." John's looking forward to this, just like any other time he's played with me.

"Sounds good."

"And I'll remove the nipple clamps once you're settled. And rub them better," Mike says.

"OK. I'm wondering if a blindfold might help. Help me ignore the audience."

"Not sure we've got one. You can close your eyes."

"I'll sit between you and any staring bigot," Mike assures me. He's holding my hand, so I feel totally safe.

"After the crop, we do need to do the cane marks. They're going to hurt like buggery," John warns.

"Better than buggery, I hope!" I'm not a fan of anal play. John knows that: he's tried to persuade me for years. Mike isn't bothered. He'd prefer a blow job anyway.

"Each to their own. I'm thinking, I'll do strike one, play with you, then I do a second, get you moaning merrily again, then a fast 'one, two, three, four', drop the cane, feel you up, you try to make your noises as erotic as possible. Plan?"

"Plan. I'll try. Suzy gave me some tips. Porn actresses really are skilled, you know! If you both get on with the aftercare -- hugs and kisses and all -- I'm sure I can shout out about how much fun it was. May take a moment."

"Let's see if your body can convert the stubborn, eh?"

"Ready?" I take Mike's hand, and we walk back into the main committee room.

*

"Good afternoon, everybody. I hope everyone appreciates the rather special nature of this afternoon's court session." Nigel smiles, all urbane charm. Kash, wig hastily donned, is visibly nervous, only calming now he sees I haven't run away. He must be pretty young to be a KC, possibly younger than me. His remaining career likely depends on this.

"Mr Singh, would you lock the door, please? We don't want any intruders. Mr Thompson, Ms Timpson, please lower the blinds."

I hadn't considered views across the rooftops. I'm glad Nigel did. There's some windows I can see into.