Over My Limit Ch. 01: My Day in Court

She blushed and laughed, "Steve, you're terrible!" There was a ripple of laughter from other spectators around the circle. He tugged one of my lips outward, and clamped it tightly. I groaned, a mixture of pain and shameful pleasure.

I looked down at the clamp on my tit and saw the display now read '4:35' and realized it was counting down the five minutes he'd paid for. By '1:40' my nipple and pussy lip had gone numb, and the young couple had lost interest in me and walked away, but there was still a large crowd watching my discomfort, lots of them pointing phones at me. Some were even taking selfies with me! At zero, the clamp fell off my nipple, then shortly thereafter, off my pussy. The rush of blood back was even more painful than the initial clamping, and I wished I could have soothed myself with my fingers, but here I was, helpless.

A uniformed guard picked up the clamps and deposited them into a slot on the side of the machine. "Who's next?" He asked.

A middle-aged man swiped his card and made a selection. Nothing dispensed, and instead he spent the next three minutes fondling my breasts. He was surprisingly skillful, sometimes stroking and caressing tenderly, sometimes groping and pinching and tugging. By the time the buzzer sounded to end his turn, my nipples could have cut glass and I was moaning for more. I swear there was pussy juice running down my leg.

Next up was a young woman in all black goth gear and dark purple hair. She spent five minutes with her fingers up inside me, groping around like a bull in a china shop. While she fumbled around, frankly embarrassing herself more than me, I took the time to look around Humiliation Square. It was a fine example of an eighteenth century London square, with sumptuous townhomes around it. The center, where there would originally have been a manicured garden, had been converted to the open plaza I was currently on display on. There were about a dozen other stations like the one I was shackled in, mostly displaying women, but there were a few men, with small crowds gathered around each one. I idly wondered whether the experience was worse for men or women, and decided women, unless the man had a particularly small cock. Goth-girl finally finished. I hoped she'd gotten more out of the experience than I had. It's rare that my pussy is drier after being fingered than before, and it was a good thing I was gagged, or I might have said something very unkind about her fingering technique.

On the other side of the square, I saw a man holding up a furled red umbrella, with a group of about a dozen tourists following him like so many ducklings. They wended their way around the square until they ended up in front of me. The guide looked me up and down. "She'll do," he said, mostly to himself, "nice and firm."

He turned to the group and, referring to an electronic tablet he held, said, "this young woman has been sentenced to six hours for financial crimes, and will then be sold into slavery to make up for the money she stole from hard-working citizens." There were some theatrical boos from the group. He continued, "as part of the tour, you all have the opportunity to join in her Humiliation."

At this point he swiped a card in the vending machine, then gestured toward me. "Five minutes - have fun!"

They all crowded around me, and within seconds there were hands all over me - squeezing my tits, pinching my nipples, groping my bottom and tugging on the plug, and of course lots of fingers in my pussy. They talked about me as if I couldn't hear them.

"So firm!"

"Such a juicy slut!"

"Surprisingly tight for a whore."

"Shame her bottom's plugged."

"I wonder if we could rent one like this for the evening? I'll ask the hotel concierge."

It was supremely humiliating, being treated like a slab of meat for everyone's enjoyment, but also incredibly arousing. Whenever I tried to focus on what one hand was doing, like caressing my throat, or tugging on a nipple, or tickling my earlobe, another sensation would override it, like a delicious squeeze on my clit, or a firm finger on my g-spot. Someone nearly managed to pull the plug out of me, and I almost came.

The timer buzzed, and they all retreated behind the line.

"I have one more surprise treat for you," said the guide, "remember the tickets I gave you all earlier?" He tapped the screen of his tablet, and large numbers flashed by, then slowed down like a digital roulette wheel, finally settling on number 17.

"Seventeen! Who has seventeen?"

An excited woman, maybe in her sixties, pushed to the front waving her ticket.

"Congratulations Molly!" cheered the guide, "you get the honour of giving her six of the best!"

With this, he twisted the handle of his umbrella and pulled out a long, thin cane and handed it to Molly. She looked me in the eye and grinned, fingering the cane, then walked around behind me. I'd never heard of caning being part of the Humiliation, and I tried to protest through my gag.

"What's that?" asked the guide, cupping his ear to me mockingly, "Oh, Molly, she says she likes it really hard!"

The group laughed uproariously at my predicament, and I braced myself.

There was a loud swish and a 'crack', and a terrible burning sensation across my bottom. I screamed into the gag. The tour group cheered.

Through my welling tears I could see other people around notice and come over to enjoy the spectacle.

'Crack!'

I screamed again. The crowd was growing, cheering each blow. My bottom was on fire.

By blow four I was sobbing, then she landed blow five across the top of my thighs, and I screamed even louder. Only one to go!

But she stopped, and walked back in front. She handed the cane to the guide.

"Colin," she said, "you've been such a wonderful guide for us today, I'd like you to take the last one." There was a ripple of appreciative applause as he smiled and thanked her.

He walked back behind me, and I braced - he was much bigger and stronger than her, and this could be really bad. He caressed my bottom with his hand, running his fingers along what I was sure were very bright red lines.

"Maybe not the bottom," he mused, walking back in front of me. He ran the tip of the cane up my inner thigh, and pressed it up between my pussy lips. "Maybe here?" he asked his audience. I instinctively stood on tiptoe, trying to pull my vulnerable lips away from the cruel cane. There was general laughter, but a few women winced the way I've seen men do when a buddy gets hit in the balls.

He raised the cane to my chest and let it swish back and forth, expertly hitting my tender nipples, no matter how I squirmed. "How about a nice red line across her tits?" More laughter.

"Here's a nice little trick," he said, and laid the cane across my breasts, resting on my nipples. He pressed them against the cane with his thumbs and began to rotate the cane slowly upward, pulling my nipples up and twisting them around the cane. I shrieked and writhed in pain, trying to pull away, but the restraints held me at his mercy. The crowd roared with laughter.

Finally he let go. "Who'd like to soothe her with their mouth?" Lots of hands went up, and he picked two volunteers, a man and a woman, who wasted no time closing their lips around my throbbing nipples, licking and sucking until the pain subsided a little. The throbbing in my cunt increased massively, though. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling, but was suddenly brought back to reality by him laying the cane hard across my sore buttocks for the final stroke.

His audience applauded as the guide slid the cruel cane back into its hiding place in his umbrella, then he led them away, and I was left alone, still with an unsatisfied tingle between my legs.

A few minutes passed by without anyone molesting me - I'd noticed a few more victims had been raised up into the square around me, so I was no longer the newest sensation.

Over in the distance, I heard a musical tinkling sound, and a bright light started flashing on top of one of the other vending machines. An excited buzz spread among the crowd, and people rushed over there, quickly blocking my view. I wondered what new humiliation that girl was suffering. After a few more seconds, there was a huge roar of jubilation, but I couldn't tell why. This happened a few times during the day at various stations. Sometimes it was accompanied by a booming voice through a loudspeaker, but I could never make out what it said.

The sun was pretty high in the sky by now, and I wondered what time it was, but I had no way of finding out. There was no clock on the tower of the only church in the square, and it was not like I could ask anyone the time.

A small electric van trundled across the square to me and parked right in front of me. A middle-aged man in scrubs climbed out, a stethoscope around his neck. He stepped right up close to me and peered into my eyes.

"I'm just here to check up on you. Are you holding up ok?"

I nodded meekly. The ordeal was pretty awful, but after all, that's what I was here for, so there was no point in complaining.

He shone a bright light into each eye, then pressed his stethoscope onto my chest above my right breast. Then he went behind me. First I felt him check the placement of my buttplug, then, (oh bliss!) he rubbed some cold cream on the welts across my bottom and thighs. I could have kissed him as he gently rubbed it in!

In front of me again he asked, "better?". I nodded gratefully, trying to express my thanks with just my eyes.

He pulled on some rubber gloves. "I'm going to quickly check to make sure no-one has put anything inside you - they do that sometimes." He slipped two fingers up inside me, but it felt medical, not like being groped. He nodded to himself, satisfied that there was nothing untoward.

He reached into the cab of the van and pulled out a water bottle with a long flexible nozzle. He fed the nozzle past the side of the ball gag into my mouth and squeezed. Oh, wonderful cool water! I drank deeply, quickly emptying the bottle. Finally he lifted a large container with a spray wand out of the van. "Sunscreen," he explained as he sprayed my whole body, "eyes closed!" Once he'd covered me entirely, even between the legs, he carefully wiped my eyes with a tissue so I could open them again. I gave him another 'thank you' look and he smiled kindly.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he said, then climbed back into the van and drove off.

The commotion at the other station had died down by now, and I was getting more interest. Over the next two hours I was groped, fingered, pinched and clamped numerous times.

There were lots more comments. The ones from men were mostly complimentary about my breasts and vagina, and bragging about what they'd like to do to me - the phrase 'destroy that pussy' came up surprisingly often, but the women were much harsher. Words like 'whore', 'bitch' and 'slut' were common, and several expressed the opinion that it was good that a slut like me that was used to using 'that body' to get whatever I wanted from men was finally getting her comeuppance.

One creepy-looking woman paid her money, then used her time to viciously twist my nipples whilst hissing "repent, whore!" into my ear.

One young man managed to pull my buttplug clean out, and ran away with it, laughing, and a guard had to be summoned to push a new one into me. That drew quite a crowd as I squirmed and moaned. The guard had to grab me hard by the crotch to push me back as he forced it in to me.

A group of young men decided it would be fun to see me come, so they took turns using their paid time to finger me and stroke my clit. By the fifth guy my clit was getting sore, but I managed to hold them off. It was close, but none of them quite had the skill needed, and they left angry, calling me a frigid bitch. Of course it's never the man's fault when a woman can't come... I scored that as a win - I'd denied them the satisfaction. I was determined no-one would see me come here in public.

Noon came and went, along with another visit from my guardian angel and another bottle of water. About thirty minutes after that I felt an urgent pressure on my bladder. Oh shit! That's why there was a drain under me! No, I couldn't, that would be too much humiliation, even for Humiliation Square!

I held it in tightly for another hour, in increasing pain. Whenever someone had their fingers inside me, it was all I could do not to piss all over their hand, but finally some leaked out on a young woman who was particularly vigorous with her finger-fucking. She jumped up and gleefully waved her wet hand in the air. "This one's ready!" she yelled, and ran over to the vending machine and punched a button. The musical tinkling sound I'd heard earlier began to play, and a bright light flashed on top of the machine. A large and excited crowd many rows deep quickly formed around my circle, many holding up cellphones. Oh god!

The pressure on my bladder was getting unbearable. "Piss, piss!" yelled the young woman at me, still waving her wet hand, and the crowd quickly picked up the refrain.

"Piss! Piss! Piss!" They chanted, "Piss! Piss!"

Oh, I knew Humiliation Square would be bad, but oh my god...

"Piss! Piss! Piss!" They chanted.

I couldn't have held it any longer if I'd wanted to, so I gave in. First a little trickle ran down my leg, then the flood gates opened and a hot stream of piss gushed out past my flapping pussy lips. The crowd roared in delight, many still yelling "Piss! Piss!" The young woman was beside herself with glee. She ran up to me and grabbed my tits, yelling, "I got you, bitch, I got you!"

Finally the torrent reduced to a stream, then a trickle, then a few lone drips, and stopped. The relief in my bladder was an almost religious experience, almost completely overwhelming the shame and embarrassment. Almost. I wondered if this was the peak experience of HS.

She put her hand back to my cunt, seeming to revel in the wetness, stroking and pressing to get every last drop out of me, but when there was no more, she abruptly lost interest and walked away. The rest of the crowd also melted away fairly quickly, except for one last guy who paid for five minutes fondling my tits, and then even he was gone. I still drew interested glances and comments, but I went a full fifteen minutes without being touched. I took the time to take stock of my body.

The short answer was 'discomfort' - my wrists and ankles ached from being shackled, my thighs were sore from standing spreadeagled for hours, my bottom still burned from the caning, my arsehole still remembered the indignity of having the plug forced in, and of course my tits and pussy throbbed from the constant rough attention.

The electric van pulled up again. The kind man checked me over again, and wiped the remaining piss off my twat and legs, then he looked at me sadly. "Sorry dear," he said, "time for your grand finale."

He pulled a long device out of the van. It was like a microphone stand, except the base was thicker, and instead of a microphone, there was a large dildo on the top! He placed it in front of me, then pressed a button on the vending machine. The tinkling music and flashing light started again, and an expectant crowd quickly gathered. A hush settled, and then a loud recorded voice spoke from the vending machine.

"Ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests, the woman displayed in shame before you has nearly completed her sentence here in Humiliation Square. There only remains the final, ultimate humiliation. You will all now witness her surrender her body to the throes of orgasm for your pleasure. May the shame of this ordeal remain with her always as a reminder of her obligation to society. You are all encouraged to film and share the event to social media. Her name is Jennifer Simons." Oh god! These videos would haunt me for the rest of my life! Every prospective employer, lover, business associate I ever have would see this shame and humiliation!

In front of me was a wall of camera lenses, and the internet watched as the man crouched before me, tilted the stand, and placed the tip of the dildo between my pussy lips. He then slid the base until it was directly below me, thus pushing the dildo up into my cunt. I must have been taller than the last victim, as he then made an adjustment that pushed it further inside, until the fake balls pressed against my lips. He then retrieved another device from the van. It was a small black box with straps hanging off it, which he proceeded to wrap around my waist and the top of my thighs, so that the box pressed firmly against my clit. The crowd watched patiently, filming.

Satisfied that it was securely in place, he pressed another button on the vending machine. The dildo slowly withdrew from my snatch, almost all the way out, then back in, over and over. It must have been slightly bulbous at the front near the base, because each stroke ended pressing on my g-spot. The box on my clit began to vibrate gently.

The recorded voice spoke again. "Watch as she succumbs to the phallus filling her. You will notice her breath quicken, and a pleasant pink blush spread across her face and chest." The crowd murmured in agreement.

The thrusting of the dildo became faster, and the clit stimulation harder. I began to moan, and I knew it would win.

There were comments from the crowd.

"Damn, she's horny!"

"What I wouldn't give to swap places with that machine!"

"God, she's a randy little slut!"

"Look how slick the dildo is with her juices already."

"Think she'll squirt?"

I heard two clangs from the vending machine. What now? A young man and woman stepped up to me long enough to attach two vibrating clamps to my rock hard, tingling nipples. Oh fuck, that felt good. I let out a deep groan, and there was a gentle ripple of laughter.

"Come on babe, ride that cock!"

"Imagine a cock in your backside too!"

I did. I imagined the buttplug was a big man roughly fucking me from behind, and the ball gag was a cock fucking my little rosebud mouth.

The dildo was pounding in and out now, almost lifting me off my feet. My entire body was tingling, and the vibrator was buzzing so hard I could hear it, and on the end of my bouncing tits, my nipples felt like they were on fire.

My vision began to blur, my breaths became short pants, and my legs were quivering. A huge orgasm was spreading from my clit, out to the tips of my fingers and toes, waves of hot and cold washing over me. I was twisting my body, riding that hard plastic cock towards the cliff-tops, and then suddenly, I was over, free falling, my stomach lurching, my cunt clenching, and I think I peed a little. My mind went completely blank, and my knees gave way, so that when I came to, I was hanging painfully from my wrists, impaled on the dildo that had stopped pounding, and was just gently rising and falling.

I also realized I was in semi-darkness - the lift was lowering me down below ground again.