My Sister's Keeper Pt. 03

MY SISTER'S KEEPER

By: tlanuwa1963

This series follows "Slave Management 101". Katherine is finally brought in as a primary character. Much of the rest of the story will focus on Katherine and her transformation from bitch into her brother's slave. She will be an integral part throughout the rest of the story.

As always I enjoy and appreciate your polite feedback, good, bad, or indifferent. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

CHAPTER 7

Those county jail jumpsuits were an awful shade of orange. They really clashed with my complexion. They did give me a high quality leather belt to wear today. Of course my hands were cuffed to it. The black and white slider sandals I was wearing were difficult to walk in with my leg cuffs fitting snugly around my ankles. They were getting kinda painful.

I concentrated on my attire to keep from dwelling on what was about to transpire. Kristen and I were standing next to each other behind a table in the courtroom facing the judge. The judge was a fat bald man, probably in his mid-fifties. His face was round, his little piggy nose held wire frame glasses through which he watched me.

I figured the nasty old bastard would have his cock in one of my holes before too much longer. From what I'd heard, I was expecting a gang-bang during my slave intake. Apparently once I was a naked slave, every man, and many women I interacted with would be taking a piece of me. I was about to become just a set of holes for anyone to stick anything they wanted into.

Truth be told, I was terrified, but there was no way in hell I'd let any of these fuck-turds see that. I'd show no fear, and no tears. They would do with me as they will, so I was fantasizing like I do when I masturbate, trying to get my pussy as wet as I could so it wouldn't be painful. To make matters worse, James was the star of my fantasy, as usual. As much as I tried to kick the bastard out of my head, he always came back to to make me quiver in ecstasy.

No doubt one of them would feel the need to ass-fuck me. I felt sure there would be no lube, all I could do was hope the bastard had a little dick. They probably all had little dicks, that's why they wanted to be cops, to compensate for their little dicks.

Kristen quit talking, snapping my attention back to my surroundings just in time to hear the judge speak, "Very well. How does the defendant plead?"

There's my cue, "Guilty, Your Honor."

"Very well. Let the record show that the defendant pleads guilty to four counts of Manslaughter."

The DA dropped 'intoxicated' in order to be able to reduce the sentence to the twenty five years we agreed on. It amounted to just over six years for each victim, to be run consecutively. I was about to sign my life away. Twenty five years. I'd be old and ugly when I was released. Nobody would want me.

"What happens to old wore out slaves. I'll probably end up living under a bridge somewhere, just waiting to die. This is not how my life was supposed to turn out. How in the fuck did I wind up here? If I can find the courage, maybe I'll hang myself the first chance I get." I felt my eyes start to water. "DO NOT CRY YOU STUPID WEAK CUNT!!! NEVER LET THEM SEE YOU CRY!!!!"

The Judge continued, "Under the terms of the plea agreement between the defendant and the District Attorney, you are sentenced to twenty five years of indenture, to begin immediately. Bailiff, strip the defendant and take her for processing."

As the bailiff came for me, the Judge called, "Bailiff, the State of Alabama Department of Corrections has already designated an owner for this slave. He should be waiting for you at the loading dock. You'll have documents identifying the owner back in the processing station."

"Thank you, Your Honor."

"I'll meet you in the processing area. She's a pretty little thing, even with the scaring. I'll give her the honor of getting her first fuck as a slave from me." The judge scanned my body, anticipation showing on his face.

The bailiff walked me around the table to stand in the middle of the room facing the public seats. It was about half full. None of my family was there, which was as expected. I saw a couple of familiar faces from high school. But I couldn't remember who they were. The bailiff removed my cuffs, belt, and leg irons.

"Raise your hands over your head." the bailiff instructed. When I did he unbuttoned the front of my jumpsuit.

"You will respond verbally to every command you are given." he said in a monotone, giving my nipple an excruciatingly vicious twist to reinforce his words.

"Yes Master." I gasped. It took all I could do to contain my painful squeal, but I did it. It felt like a small victory.

"Drop your arms to your side."

"Yes Master."

The bailiff stepped behind me, grabbed my collar pulling it back, then down my arms before releasing it. This allowed the jumpsuit to fall freely off my body to the floor. I'd not bothered with underwear this morning. I knew what was coming.

"Step back" he instructed me.

"Yes Master." I took a step back, leaving the jumpsuit on the floor. I was now completely naked in the court room. Just about everyone in the public gallery was holding their phone up snapping pictures or videoing my first steps into slavery. I had shut off my mind. I seemed to be watching my body docilely following orders, my face showing no expression.

"Collar." he instructed. I recognized the command and knew what he wanted from many years of watching and handling slaves on the estate and elsewhere. With my left hand I gathered my hair and held it up away from my neck. The Bailiff put a leather collar against my throat. I was expected to bow my head forward when I felt the collar so it could be locked in place, which I did without hesitation. I felt the leather wrap around my neck and heard the click of the lock.

"Leash." He instructed.

"Yes Master." I dropped my hair, returned my hand to my side, and tilted my head back to give him easy access to the D-Ring attached to the front of my collar.

With my leash attached, the Bailiff instructed, "Pick up all that stuff off the floor." Indicating the jail uniform, slides, and restraints that had been so recently removed from my body.

"Yes Master." I gathered everything up as told and held the bundle against my chest with both hands.

Once I rose, he instructed "Heel", and walked off towards the other side of the room. I fell in two steps behind and one step to his left. Just where I was supposed to be.

So far I was just following along in a daze, doing as I was told. After my initial look, I don't remember anybody in the gallery. I don't remember seeing my attorney again, even though I know she was there. I don't remember the judge. All I remember is the Bailiff and doing my best to please him.

No doubt you find that surprising knowing what you do about how volatile I can be. But I was trying to play it smart. This process could be horrid in an almost medieval sense. So I knew the worse I behaved, the harsher the experience would be for me. I expected the next forty eight hours to be a nightmare and I wanted to get through it with as little trauma as possible.

I followed my my new, temporary master through the door, down a couple of corridors, and several flights of stairs until we reached the processing center. The bundle in my arms was taken from me before I was lead to what could be described as a modern version of a stockade where I was bent over at the waist to be locked in place with a steel loop over my neck and two smaller loops keeping my hands in place.

I was in one of several side by side stockades running parallel to a wall about four feet away from my secured head. There was one other woman secured two places over from me with a deputy gripping her hips and fucking her from behind. Another one face fucked her, gripping her long brunette hair to control her pace. It didn't look to bad. I'd experienced both before, albeit never a the same time.

Just back from the stockade, there was a steel pipe running parallel to the stockade a little above waist height that I was bent over. Once I was locked in place the pipe held me up so that I could just barely touch the cold unadorned concrete floor with my toes. A leather cuff was put on each ankle, attached to the floor and tightened pulling my legs down far enough that I could almost stand flat footed. The bar pressed against my pelvic bones and was quite uncomfortable.

They must have thought I was an escape artist because they also wrapped a flat nylon strap under the pipe, over my back, under the pipe again in an 'X' pattern, then over my back again where it was inserted into a ratcheting mechanism for tightening. After a good hard tug of the bitter end of the strap to get all the slack out, I was ratcheted in place. This was also very painful, they made sure I wasn't going anywhere.

While I was being immobilized, the fat-ass judge came in to watch the proceedings. He apparently enjoyed pinching, twisting and pulling my nipples as hard as he could while the bailiffs worked.

Looking at someone behind me I couldn't see, the judge asked, "Is she wet Jeff? You know I hate dry pussy."

Someone, Jeff I suppose, unceremoniously jabbed two fingers into my pussy causing me to jump in surprise, "Not very." Jeff replied.

"Well lube her up for me, and use plenty." Seconds later I felt what I thought was a plastic tube inserted as deep as it would go into me and felt a cold liquid pouring into my pussy. I'm pretty sure the bastards had that shit in the fridge. The Judge must have felt like he was fucking a corpse when he finally got around to me. Cold oil of some kind gushed out of me and down my legs.

"How's that, Judge?" Jeff asked.

The judge released my abused nipples and walked around behind me, "God damn it Jeff! It's running all down her legs. You know that shit is gonna get all over my pants. Now clean her up so I can stick my dick in her. I have to meet my wife for lunch in about half an hour."

"Alright Judge, just calm down, I'll get her cleaned up for you." I could hear the humor in Jeff's voice as clearly as I could hear the irritation in the judges.

A rough towel scrubbed my legs removing the excess oil. Then my pussy got a good scrubbing, the roughness of the towel making it feel raw. Two big fingers rammed into me then began to wiggle around. It actually felt pretty good, Jeff had big fingers. A couple minutes of that would have negated the use of lube. It doesn't take much to get me dripping wet.

With a chuckle Jeff said, "She's good and lubed up now, Judge. Fuck her hard."

"Yeah she's gonna like this, aren't ya bitch?"

"Yes Master" I said trying to sound like I was actually looking forward to having his cock in me.

I heard the unmistakable sounds of a belt buckle loosening and pants coming down right before I felt his hands on my hips. Immediately afterwards he rammed his cock into me. I felt more lube squirt out of my pussy around his little prick.

He immediately pulled out of me sputtering. I don't know why he slapped me on the ass. I didn't fill myself with that much lube. All I did was wait patiently for his little pea shooter. I had to resist the urge to tell the judge he was the first man to ever make me squirt. Somehow I didn't think he would find that nearly as funny as I did.

"God damn it Jeff!" the Judge shouted again. "How much lube did you put in her cunt? Give me a fucking towel before it gets on my pants, I don't have another pair with me."

"Sorry about that, Judge" Jeff still barely contained his mirth.

I heard the sound of cloth scrubbing skin for a couple of minutes as the Judge cursed under his breath. Then hands found my hips again. This time he entered me slowly, not wanting to be the first man to ever make me squirt twice.

He stroked in and out of me for a couple of minutes, panting like he'd run a marathon before he finally came in me. I really hoped none of these bastards gave me an s.t.d. It'd be just my luck the way the last few month had gone for me.

I heard the sound of some one wiping cloth on skin again, then I heard the Judge pull his pants up, "Damn girl, where'd you get that big ole loose pussy? You almost weren't worth the effort."

I didn't say that it had nothing to do with how tight I was and everything to do with his tiny dick. What I did say was, "I'm so sorry I didn't please you with my worthless cunt your Honor. Please forgive me."

"I guess I should've known a baby killer would be run through and wore out." The judge replied.

"Well I'm hungry, I'm going to lunch. See you later Jeff."

"Enjoy your lunch Judge." I heard Jeff say.

Again something was shoved in me as deep as it would go. Apparently it was a water hose giving me the coldest douche I'd ever had. However I was happy to get the old bastards cum out of me.

Once they figured I was flushed out sufficiently, I felt something wet running down the crack of my ass. "You've been a good little slut so you get a reward, I'm gonna lube up your ass." Jeff told me.

"Thank you master." About that time Jeff's finger slid into my ass lubing me up inside. Considering my situation, I was grateful.

While Jeff lubed my ass, I looked to the see the other woman sharing my experience receive a number tattoo inside her lower lip, just like they do horses. I heard her gasp again, probably from her lower back tattoo.

Jeff slid his cock into my ass. He was bigger than the Judge, probably about average size so I had no problem taking him. He put his hands on my hips and fucked in and out of me slowly. This surprised me, I expected him to do his best to tear up my asshole. Maybe he just likes a nice leisurely fuck.

Whatever the reason, I wasn't complaining. I was actually enjoying it a little bit. Weird, I know, right? But in my position, I may as well learn to enjoy whatever I could. Hating it wasn't going to make it stop and If I didn't figure out how to derive what pleasure I could, when I could, my sentence would feel like twenty five decades rather than twenty five years.

"Alright bitch, you're all done here. Off to the slave auction with you." One of the other deputies said as he released the other woman from her restraints. He leashed her and headed towards the stairwell as the woman started sobbing.

A third deputy showed up in front of me with his hard cock out, pointing at my face. Knowing what was coming, I said "Oh thank you master" and opened my mouth wide.

Over the next hour, the three deputies made use of all my holes a number of times. They'd come in me, stick the hose in my ass or pussy to wash me out, lube me up, switch positions and fuck me again.

They weren't gentle, but to my surprise, neither were they particularly rough. It was obvious I was just a living fuck doll to them. The men joked among themselves but none of them ever spoke to me. They were actually pretty funny, making fun of each other's cocks, technique, stamina, orgasm faces, among other things.

All women have dirty little fantasies they never share with anybody. I guess I was dirtier than most women because this was hitting three of my deepest, darkest secret desires all at the same time. Although I thought I'd never do it, being bound and used thoughtlessly as a fuck toy, was one fantasy. And what woman doesn't have a gang bang fantasy. I don't know if three to one counts as a gang bang, but it was the closest I ever got. I guess my darkest secret desire is being forced to service a man in every conceivable way against my will. Well, that's what I was experiencing.

Even though I didn't cum, it was an enjoyable, unique experience that I still think back on when I masturbate. Well...except for the judge.

However, there was one torment I'd yet to experience once none of the deputies were able to coax another erection from their well used cocks. A female deputy came down the stairs wearing sterile gloves.

"Brenda, we wondered when you would get here", Jeff greeted her.

"Sorry about that, I got tied up with a booking."

"No problem, we just finished with her a few minutes ago."

"Did you have fun? How's her pussy"

"We always have fun. She has a nice tight pussy, and her ass is even tighter. I don't think she's been getting much dick lately. We fucked this one till we couldn't get it up anymore."

I felt a full body flush as they all chuckled at their own banter.

One of the other deputies released my restraints, and stood me up. He let me lean on the pipe until the feeling came back to my legs.

"Get to the other side of the room" he ordered.

As I walked to where he indicated, I saw a steel bar about three feet wide suspended from a hoist mounted to the ceiling. It was about five feet off the ground. There were two footprints painted on the concrete floor about thirty inches apart where he told me to stand. When I put my feet where directed, I saw there were large D-Rings set flush with the floor.

I still wore the leather ankle braces and the deputy quickly chained them to the D-rings allowing virtually no movement of my bare feet.

Next he put leather braces on my wrists similar to the set on my ankles. These he attached to the suspended bar. Once I was secured, he took a box with a red and a green button on it that was hanging from an electric cable coming out of the winch. The deputy pushed the red button and the winch began pulling the crossbar upwards carrying my hands along with it.

In very short order, my hands were as far as they would go above my head, and still the winch continued to lift. Once my feet were completely off the ground with the chains attached to the floor,the winch stopped turning. The leather braces kept the discomfort to a minimum while I was suspended and completely vulnerable.

Eavesdropping on the deputies conversation I learned that Brenda ran a successful tattoo and piercing shop on the weekends. I already had my Department of Corrections tat. I couldn't see mine, but I knew it was an outline of the state of Alabama about four inches tall with DOC in the middle and a unique registration number underneath it. It was the same number they put on the inside of my lip. So I wondered why a tattoo artist was here.

Brenda took a small leather pouch out of the messenger bag she carried and unzipped it. I watched her closely, but I couldn't tell what was in the case. She set it down on the table behind me. Brenda thoroughly cleaned my nipples with a damp towelette. I don't know what was on it, but it caused my nipples to stand as tall and hard as they ever had. Then she took a small sharpie and drew a line up each side of both my nipples.

I began to wonder if I was about to have my nipples pierced. None of them told me what was about to happen and I didn't dare ask. Slaves don't ask questions.

Brenda brought a pair of hemostats with teardrop shaped loops where the clamping jaws should be. She pinched my nipple with the hemostats so that it was captured inside the teardrop loops and held there.

A long needle was in her other hand. Now I knew what was about to happen, my heart beat faster in anticipation of the pain caused by a needle passing through my nipple. I liked nipple jewelry, I thought they were sexy. But I never had it done due to my fear of the pain.

Stretched out and vulnerable as I was, all I could do was prepare to endure the procedure. Fear made me queasy, constricted my chest making it hard to breathe as Brenda manipulated the hemostats putting my nipple in optimal position for passing the needle through. I couldn't watch, I closed my eyes and waited for the needle to pierce me.

The light prick of the needle where she placed it on the line she had drawn told me it was about to happen. A bit more pressure, a bit more pain, then Brenda forced the needle all the way through. Holy fucking balls that hurt. I wanted to vocalize something, instead I just gasped and squinched my eyes closed as tightly as I could. Being suspended as I was left me unable to grab and hold my poor abused nipple as instinct screamed at me to do.