Over My Limit Ch. 01: My Day in Court

I showed up at bankruptcy court a little early for my 8:30 hearing, so as not to be flustered. I'd dressed nicely, business-like, a dark pencil skirt, crisp white blouse, stockings, heels. My long dark hair was in a sensible ponytail. I planned to give the impression of a young woman who wanted to do the right thing, but circumstances had conspired against her, overwhelming her feeble femininity. A girl who was very sorry, your honour. I had a bottle of expensive champagne waiting in the fridge back in my flat to celebrate my new-found financial freedom when I got home.

I checked the list on the corkboard outside the courtroom - there was one woman ahead of me - and I went in and waited at the back. A clerk was reading the list of debts. She was six months behind on her rent, she owed almost ten thousand on a car she'd totaled, and she had ridiculous credit card debt, including expensive clothing shops. I could see her at the front of the small courtroom, her back to the dozen or so members of the audience, facing the judge sitting high on the bench. She was fairly short, and pleasingly plump, with straight blonde hair, and dressed smartly in a business suit with the skirt well below the knee.

"Total debts, your honour, are seventy three thousand, one hundred and twenty seven pounds and sixteen pence," concluded the clerk.

Silly girl. Anything under fifty grand is a regular, dischargeable bankruptcy, anything over has to be paid for at auction.

She knew what was coming - I could see her shoulders shaking as she held back the tears.

The judge looked over his reading glasses down at her.

"Miss Barker, the evidence before this court is that you have lived well beyond your means, spending frivolously without thought for the hard-working men and women left paying for your excesses. Their losses must be made whole. The remedy the law allows is that you will be taken from this place to the public auction house, and there be sold into slavery for a period of six years."

She gave a loud sob, and shook her head violently. On either side I saw bailiffs moving toward her.

The judge continued, "The proceeds of your auction will be distributed among your many creditors with any remaining balance being held in trust to help you rebuild your life when you regain your freedom. Proceed!" He banged his gavel.

The two bailiffs took hold of Miss Barker by the shoulders and brought her forward before the judge's bench. Before she could even react, one of them roughly pulled her jacket off, and the other cuffed her hands behind her back. One then pulled out a pair of scissors of the type paramedics use to cut clothes off injured persons, and quickly cut away her cream-coloured camisole top, while the other pulled down her skirt, leaving her in just her underwear and tights. They turned her toward the audience. Her pretty face was contorted in anguish, tears streaking the mascara down her cheeks. She tried to drop to the floor and curl up in a ball, but they were ready for her, and held her up for our inspection. She had a nice full figure, wide hips, and a curvy belly. I could see her bra held sizable tits. I'm straight, but I couldn't wait to see them.

Three more snips, and one bailiff yanked the bra away. She squealed and squirmed, and her big tits and belly jiggled deliciously. The taller bailiff grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her off her feet, and the other crouched in front of her, and in one swift, practiced motion, pulled her tights, shoes and panties down and off her, revealing a mass of dark pubes (ha - I knew she wasn't a natural blonde!). She kicked her legs in a futile attempt to escape, but only succeeded in revealing more of herself to us, and increasing her shame and humiliation. I Idly wondered what it felt like to be stripped bare in public like that, and I had to admit, there was a certain tingle in my crotch at the thought. Maybe something to roleplay with my boyfriend...

The bailiffs tried to walk her toward the door, but she struggled and squirmed, so they had to pick her up, one on each side, one arm around her back, the other holding up her knees, so her legs were spread wide. Despite her wailing, there was a hint of excitement in her eyes, and I definitely saw a sparkle of wetness in the pink between her gaping, furry pussy lips. I thought it would be fun to own a girl like that, if I had the money.

Out the door they took her, and off to slave-processing.

In my early twenties, me and my girlfriends would sometimes go and watch the public parts of the processing, usually just to ogle naked men being measured and tested, but occasionally to gloat over the fate of an acquaintance, or even friend who'd been caught shoplifting and been sentenced to a month or two. There's nothing quite as satisfying as seeing the girl you caught your boyfriend with being paraded naked and humiliated to the auction block.

I was lost in my thoughts when I heard my name called by the clerk, "The next matter before this court, Miss Jennifer Simons."

I stepped forward to the dock, which was really just a table facing the judge. The bailiffs had retaken their places on each side of the courtroom. I flashed them each a quick smile - they wouldn't be needed for this case.

"Your Honour," read the clerk, "Miss Simon appears before the court to beg discharge of debts totalling below fifty thousand pounds. She has no material assets beyond the allowed clothing and personal effects." Damn right - I made sure to only spend money on having a good time!

He proceeded to read the rather short list of my credit card balances, and confirmed the total owing of forty nine thousand, eight hundred and fifty three pounds. Nice - I'd really done well!

The judge frowned at me. "Miss Simons, it appears you have successfully gamed our legal system, and in effect, stolen nearly fifty thousand pounds from your fellow citizens. Your kind disgust me, but I am left with no choice but to discharge your debt." He raised his gavel.

There was a sudden banging of a door and a commotion behind me.

"Your honour," called a reedy voice, "I beg to be heard on this matter!"

I spun around - what the fuck?

A skinny, disheveled-looking middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit scurried down the aisle waving a sheaf of papers, and stood panting beside me.

The judge frowned at him. "What's the meaning of this?"

The man collected himself. He passed the papers to the clerk, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Your honor, the Borough Of Wandsworth has been pursuing a debt incurred by Miss Simons for the past four years."

"What is the nature of this debt?"

"A parking fine, plus fees and interest."

"And the total owing?"

"One hundred and fifty four pounds and seventeen pence, Your Honour."

The judge looked over at the clerk, who'd been looking through the paperwork.

The man looked up. "This appears to be in order, Your Honour."

A tiny smile played around the judge's mouth. "And what does this bring the debt to?"

Oh shit.

"Fifty thousand and seven pounds and seventeen pence, Your Honour."

OH SHIT! OH SHIT!

The judge turned his attention back to me. Suddenly, the bailiffs were at my side.

"Miss Simons, your miscalculation has cost you dearly. Your debts being more than the statutorily-allowed fifty thousand pounds, they are not dischargeable in bankruptcy. Instead, your creditors losses must be made whole. The remedy the law allows is that you will be taken from this place to the public auction house, and there be sold into slavery for a period of six years."

OH SHIT!

The bailiffs had hold of my shoulders now, waiting for the gavel. I instinctively squirmed, but they had me in a vice-like grip.

I felt the bang, rather than heard it, and before the echo had even died away, I felt myself being dragged forward. There was a tearing of fabric and a pinging of buttons as my blouse was ripped away, and I felt the cold steel as my hands were cuffed behind me. I was too stunned to cry out or resist. The room suddenly felt cold. The shorter bailiff pulled my skirt off. They spun me to face the audience and I suddenly had the ridiculous thought that I was glad I'd worn matching underwear and sexy stockings, followed by the painful thought that my nice bra was about to be ruined, followed by the sobering thought that it wasn't my bra - I was a slave - I owned nothing, and everything that had been mine would now be sold at one of those pathetic 'slave remnant' auctions. There would probably be strangers rummaging through all my things by this evening, going through my makeup, my books, my underwear drawer, my vibrators! And the champagne, oh, what a shame!

The snip of scissors, a yank of fabric, and the sudden cold air on my nipples brought me back to myself. I felt them stiffen, not just because of the air conditioning, but also under the gaze of strangers. I used to love flashing my tits at bars and clubs after I'd done a few shots, and it always made my nipples hard and tingly.

I braced myself for what came next. Strong hands gripped my under the arms and lifted me. Because of my stockings, it was a multi-stage process - first each stocking and shoe, then my panties were yanked off me, leaving my shaved pussy exposed to the room. Minutes ago, I was wondering what this would feel like, fantasizing about having my cunt forcibly bared to strangers. It was scary and humiliating, and I desperately wanted to cover myself, but underneath there was something else, something primal. There was a throbbing in my clit that I couldn't ignore. I had the urge kick my legs out and show them more.

"One more thing, Miss Simons."

It was the judge. The bailiffs turned me again. I stood there, my hands cuffed behind me while the judge's eyes took in my large, perky tits, slim waist, and shaved snatch. I thrust my tits out defiantly.

"Miss Simons, it is apparent that you attempted to take advantage of the bankruptcy laws for your own financial gain. Enslavement is a way for your creditors to be made whole, but this court feels that in your case a punishment is also in order. As such, before your auction, I additionally sentence you to six hours Public Humiliation. He banged the gavel again, and the bailiffs led me away.

Public Humiliation. The words rang in my ears. I hadn't been to Humiliation Square in years - it was mostly for tourists - but I remembered what went on there. Men and women who had committed offences too minor to warrant full enslavement were put on display, shamefully naked, for the general public to grope and abuse and humiliate. A boy in my second year of college had stolen a policeman's helmet when he was drunk, and got a day in HS. Me and my friends went along to laugh at his discomfort, naked and tied to a post. I remember he had a bulbous penis, and we'd made jokes about it and dared each other to tug on it. I'd been the bravest, and stroked him until it got hard. He'd been known as "Knobbly knob" for the rest of his time at college. Now I was in for the same treatment.

The bailiffs handed me off to a guard, along with my sentencing paperwork. The guard looked me up and down and grinned. "You'll be popular - nice shaved twat like that! And those nipples look like they'll hold a nice clamp." I didn't remember anything about clamping last time I visited HS - that didn't sound good.

He led me through another door, and suddenly we were outdoors, in a small courtyard in the middle of the court complex. The chill morning breeze made me shiver as it stiffened my nipples and whipped around my bare pussy lips. For the first time in years, I missed having pubes.

"Turn around," ordered the guard. I turned and held out my hands, expecting him to release my cuffs, but instead he quickly pushed a ball gag into my mouth and fastened it behind my head. I grunted in protest, but he just laughed, then banged on the side of a nearby van. The rear doors swung open and he pushed my head down and slapped my arse to encourage me inside. There was another guard in there, sitting on a wooden bench, and he pushed me down onto the bench opposite him.

"Hurry," said the first guard, "she's getting six hours in HS, but they still want her on the block by the end of business today." That was at least something - I'd heard a night spent in the slave pens at the auction house was a most unpleasant thing.

The guard inside with me reached up beside me, getting close enough that I could smell his unpleasant breath, and pulled two canvas straps across my chest, fastening me firmly against the cold metal of the vans walls. He slammed the doors, then banged the wall dividing us from the cab, and the van's engine rumbled into life, and we pulled away. It was dark in the back, but he pulled out a torch and played it up and down my naked body and watched as my unrestrained tits bounced up and down as the van swayed and lurched through traffic.

"Nice," he leered, "now spread 'em and show me your twat."

Reluctantly, I opened my legs for him. He brought the torch in close between my legs to get a better look.

"Looks juicy," he said, then pointed the light into my face. I squinted against the glare. "Is it juicy?"

I shook my head - no.

"Well, better check."

The van lurched, and he braced himself against my right knee with the hand holding the torch, so I could feel the hot lens on my thigh. With his free hand he reached forward for my cunt. Instinctively, I began to close my legs, mortified in the knowledge that he would indeed find me wet, but he slapped them apart again.

"Try that again and I'll ram this thing right up you, understand?" He growled.

I nodded and opened up again, mumbling "yes" into the gag.

He reached forward again and pushed two fingers up into me. It was such an awful violation, so why did it feel so good when he curled his fingers up and pressed on my g-spot? How many other helpless girls had he done this to? Were his fingers already sticky from the last girl he'd transported before picking me up? His thumb found my clit and circled it roughly. I moaned into my gag, and he laughed cruelly.

"Ha, you sluts are all the same. You get all juiced up when you know you're going to Humiliation Square." He pulled his fingers out of me and held them up to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Not bad, a little fishy."

That really got my hackles up and I glared at him - how dare he?! I always kept my personal hygiene tip-top! There was nothing fishy about my cunt!

He reached forward again and wiped his wet fingers on my left tit, then gave the nipple a sharp tweak.

The van slowed to a stop.

"Here we are," he said. He opened the door, and I saw we were in some dimly-lit underground space. He leaned forward and gave my tits a good squeeze before unstrapping me and ushering me out of the van. The other guard was there, and then led me to an open area nearby. There was a pair of vertical poles, about four feet high and about six feet apart, within a ten foot circle painted in yellow on the ground. Right in the middle of the circle was a floor drain. Around the base of each pole looped a chain with a plastic ring on the end, and similar chains dangled off the top of the poles. Near the poles, just within the yellow ring, was a small vending machine, like a car park ticket machine. Further away from us, in the semi-darkness, I could see other such setups.

They led me into the center of the ring and stood me between the poles.

"Legs apart," instructed the driver, "more, more." I spread as far as I could without losing my balance, and he fastened the plastic rings around my ankles so I couldn't close my legs up again, then he uncuffed me and chained my wrists to the top of the poles.

The guard who had fingered me went over to the machine and held my paperwork up in front of it. I saw the familiar red of a scanning laser read the barcode on the top. The machine beeped, then there was a loud thunk as it dispensed something. He leaned in and read the glowing screen whilst pulling the dispensed object out of the tray.

"Huh, it says vag only, no anal. Unusual. What did you do, blow the judge?"

He tossed the object to his colleague, "Here, you do the honours."

The driver went behind me and began groping my bottom, spreading my cheeks wide. I felt something cold and hard pressing against my ring. Surely not! I tried to protest loudly and wriggled helplessly.

"That's enough!" said the man, sternly, "You should be happy the judge decided to spare you anal humiliation. Now open up and let me plug you." He pushed harder against my resisting anus.

"Here, Mike, help me with her."

The finger-guard grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me forward so I was bent over, but held me up so I didn't topple forward. The pressure increased, and slowly, steadily, my asshole was penetrated by the cold metal. I screamed into my gag and clenched as tight as I could, but it was useless, and finally, just as the pain became unbearable and I thought it would rip me open, the widest point passed my sphincter and the plug popped into place inside me. I gave a loud groan of relief.

Mike pushed me upright by my tits, and the driver gave me a hard slap on the bottom. "There you go, not so bad," he laughed. "Now your little pucker is all protected from the nasty tourists!"

Mike pressed a button on the vending machine, and both of them stepped out of the yellow circle and backed away towards their van.

A loud warning klaxon began to sound, like a lorry backing up, and a yellow light on the machine began to flash. Above me I heard a whirring sound, and suddenly the place was filled with sunlight - the ceiling was opening above me into a circle the same size as the one I was chained within. Once it was fully open, I felt the ground begin to move and realized I was standing on a circular lift that slowly rose upward to ground level. Up there, there were people gathered around the hole in the ground, watching the fresh meat come on display. As the lift rose, the poles also got taller, so by the time I was fully at the level of the open Square, my arms were lifted high, leaving me fully spread eagled with nothing hidden from the gawking tourists crowded around the circle to witness the beginning of my six hours of Humiliation.

I heard a man's voice call out, "Hey John, come get a load of the tits on this one!"

Another voice, "And shaved - nice looking cunt!"

The question, "I wonder if she's got a nice tight arsehole?" was answered from behind me, "Sorry, mate, she's plugged!"

There was a disappointed groan. "Why do they do that?" asked a young woman, turning to her companion.

"I heard," he replied, "that it's because she's going to be enslaved after the Humiliation - keeps it fresh for the new owner. They tried restricting the pussies once, but there was nearly a riot in the Square. Here, you want a couple of clamps? My treat."

She nodded eagerly, and the couple stepped up to the vending machine. He swiped his credit card, made a selection on the screen, and there were two clangs into the tray. She reached in and took out two black items that looked like large clothes pegs. As she came up in front of me, I could see they each had a little display screen reading '5:00'. She grinned at me, then took my left nipple between finger and thumb and began pinching and twisting until it was rock hard, then squeezed open the clamp and let it close around me. I squealed in pain, and she giggled. She made toward my other breast, then suddenly turned and handed the clamp to her boyfriend. "Here, you put this one on."

He gave my right nipple a firm tweak, but seemed to change his mind at the last moment. "You know," he said with a wicked grin, "I'm going to see if she likes to be clamped in your favourite spot." He crouched down in front of me and began feeling my pussy lips.