Teresa Gets Busted Pt. 02

Teresa Gets Busted- Part 2

The Town Stocks

Teresa was served another solid meal the next morning: scrambled eggs, toast, potatoes, bacon, coffee, and two bottles of half-frozen water. It did seem strange, this entire prison experience thus far, and she wondered if all the prisoners' experiences were similar to her's. On the one hand, the food and accommodations were great. On the other hand, they seemed obsessed with forced orgasms and humiliation...

Either way, it was day two of her sentence and the looming public punishment was imminent. There was a mirror in her cell above the desk and she examined her back and ass for damage from her flogging session. There were no residual marks at all. She plopped down on the cot, slid off her shoes and inspected the bottoms of her feet: no marks there, either. It was amazing to her that such searing pain could be administered with no revealing damage, whatsoever.

From the window high above, Teresa observed the bustling street below. There was a café' across the cobblestone road that had patrons occupying all of the available tables in the front of it. Folks were enjoying cappuccinos and croissants, protected from the sun's pulsing rays by the large umbrellas. On the same side of the street there was a vendor who was selling an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables. It was a beautiful Saturday and it seemed as if nearly everyone in the town was out enjoying the fresh air. Teresa suddenly realized that this would undoubtedly make her time in the stocks a well-attended ordeal.

The prisoner's thoughts were interrupted by the female guard: the first female guard who had strip searched her during the booking process. "Put your punishment suit on and assume the position," she barked. "I'll be back in two minutes."

Teresa's heart rate sped up and she began to strip down: the punishment was at hand. She rationalized that with what she had gone through the last twenty-four hours, these stocks would be a cakewalk. But it would sure be humiliating...

Standing in her cell with her hands on her head, Teresa watched the guard unlock the door and stroll in with a device in her hand that turned out to be a small Bullet vibrator that was shaped like a short, fat penis.

"Spread'em," she ordered and tapped the prisoner's legs apart.

After undoing the bottom of Teresa's suit, the guard applied a healthy amount of lubricant onto the tip of the small vibrator and shimmed it into Teresa's pussy. She re-snapped the bottom of the suit and ordered the prisoner to take a seat on the cot, reminding her to keep her hands on her head.

Teresa sat on the bed and then crossed her bare ankles after being told to do so. Seconds later, the same male guard from the day before entered the cell with a pair of what looked to be high heels.

Upon closer inspection, Teresa noticed that these were no ordinary high heels. They were made entirely of dull metal with the exception of the ankle-strap that was black leather with a small padlock attached to it.

The guard firmly grabbed Teresa's right ankle and slid the shoe down the sole of her soft foot until progress was impeded by a metal 'T' that her big toe and second toe were forced to straddle. The leather strap was then wrapped around her ankle, tightened down, and then locked in place with a padlock. The same was done with her left foot and the prisoner was instructed to stand up.

"Now walk around a bit," the female guard instructed.

Teresa began to walk around the cell in small circles as the guards observed her movement. The shoes were incredibly unforgiving and the five-inch heel added to her misery. They fit incredibly well, though.

"Good?" the male guard asked the female guard.

"Good enough," the female guard replied and the male guard quietly exited.

Teresa continued her painful circles until the guard told her to stop and grab her toes. She obeyed and then felt her hands being bound to her ankles with what turned out to be cable-ties. The position immediately put stress on her upper thighs and while struggling to keep her balance, a leather collar was placed around her neck to which a leash was attached.

"We go now," the guard said and gave the leash a slight tug in the direction of the cell door.

Awkward and painful was the best way to describe walking in the metal heels with your hands bound to your ankles. Teresa thought that walking upright was bad enough but her bent over position definitely added to her misery.

The first stop on her brutal journey was at an elevator at the end of the hall. It was in the opposite direction of where she had come when she had been first brought to her cell the day before. She figured that the guard was showing her some mercy not making her take the stairs -a bright green 'Exit' sign glowed in the darkened hallway indicating that stairs were indeed an option.

"Hit the 'B' button with your nose," the guard demanded once the doors to the elevator had closed.

The grid of buttons were nearly at eye-level for the hunched over prisoner but Teresa did have to squat down a tad in order to be able to engage the desired button with her nose.

After a short descent, the doors squeaked open and the prisoner was led out by her neck and into what appeared to be the basement of the building. Here they were met by the other female guard who brandished the same whip she had used on Teresa the night before.

In tandem, they slowly marched up a gentle incline towards the bright sunlight shown through an open loading dock door. One guard led the way holding the leash while the other trailed, liberally using the whip on the prisoner's backside when she felt that the pace was too slow.

It was pure torture having to walk in the position that Teresa had been put into and those fucking shoes made the journey nearly impossible. She felt the beads of sweat building on her forehead.

The arduous march to the town stocks made its way down the crowded cobblestone street that could be seen from Teresa's cell. The convoy had picked up two more male guards who led the parade through the crowded street of gawkers.

The pure exhaustion of having to walk in the awkward position made Teresa oblivious to the hecklers. Most of the goading was done in English with a few foreign remarks mixed in. The laughter did not need an official language.

Perhaps the worst part of the grueling walk was that Teresa had no idea how far she would be forced to go. About five minutes in, the convoy was halted to give the prisoner water. She was forced to remain standing as she struggled to get her head high enough to drink from the bottle. It was during this respite that Teresa spied Raymond in the crowd, lurking with the rest of the perverts.

She watched him walk up to the two male guards and say something to them. They nodded and allowed him to approach her. By this point her hair was matted in sweat and there was not a thing she could do to stop the stinging beads that dripped down into her eyes.

"You hangin' in there?" Raymond asked.

"You love this, don't you?" Teresa said, struggling to hold her head up in order to keep eye contact with her lover.

Raymond then produced a towel and wiped her face of the sweat, which Teresa was grateful for.

"Nice shoes," he commented, looking down at her pretty toes that were trapped in their own, special prison.

"Fuck you, Ray," she said.

The female guard with the leash declared that it was time to get a move on and Raymond retreated back into the throng of onlookers.

"See you at the stocks," he told her and winked. He noticed his girlfriend extend her middle finger as best as she could before she was jerked forward.

Shortly after the water break is when Teresa began to feel the vibration in her pussy. She figured that the device that had been forced up her cunt had to be on a timer of some sort, because she had not felt it until then. Her best guess was that the walk had taken longer than anticipated and it was not supposed to be activated until she was securely fastened to the stocks.

But then a new thought entered her mind: the device was being controlled manually by someone: someone who could see her and monitor her level of arousal. After ten more minutes of shuffling along, she had nearly cum three or four times. Every time she was about to climax, the pussy vibrations would stop; this was no coincidence.

With thirty feet left in the walk, the guards halted the convoy and one of them removed Teresa's heels. For this, she was grateful, but she still maintained a shred of vanity and the dirt path to her destination was going to make her feet filthy. She figured that this was precisely the reason for letting her out of the torture-shoes.

Puffs of dust rose up with each labored step towards the daunting scaffold that waited. Ruining her pedicure should have been the least of Teresa's worries but it wasn't; in fact, she was pissed.

The rustic scaffold had four wooden steps that she ascended once her cable ties were cut off. She used the brief period of freedom to rub some feeling back into her hands. The stocks were securely built into the stage-like structure and a thin wooden bench faced the wooden planks that would soon confine her feet. There was also an intimidating whipping post that protruded upward through the hardwood boards of this punishment-stage. One of the male guards sternly guided Teresa to the bench and sat her down before cable-tying her wrists tightly behind her back. Without being told to do so, the prisoner placed her ankles in the semi-circles on the bottom board of the stocks and then watched the top board come down and clamp her feet into place. A sturdy padlock was engaged to complete her captivity and she quickly discovered that the holes in the stocks fit her ankles perfectly.

A rather large crowd had gathered around the scaffold and Teresa spotted Raymond off to her left, an ear to ear grin consumed his face. All she could do was roll her eyes and look away. Although the leash had been removed, the collar was still locked firmly around her neck. One of the female guards produced a heavy wooden sign that bored her offense written in three different languages. This sign was attached to her collar by a chain and it hung down in front of her chest.

Teresa had forgotten all about the vibrator wedged in her pussy until it started buzzing again. She began to squirm a bit on the uncomfortable wooden bench that was nothing more than a two-inch beam that had been rounded off to form a half moon-shaped surface for her ass to rest upon. As she wiggled her feet in an attempt to find a more comfortable situation for her ankles, she wondered who was in control of her potential orgasm.

The guards let the prisoner sit there on display for a good ten minutes before the female guard stepped back up on the stage and implored the crowd to quiet down so that she could make an announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen," she began. "In front of you this afternoon, confined in the town stocks, is Ms. Teresa. She was found guilty of drunk driving yesterday, and now is the subject of public humiliation as a penance."

Some of the members of the crowd booed, while some of them cheered. What they all seemed to have in common was their hungry eyes, and not just the men. Teresa scoped the crowd and was surprised at just how many women were in the audience, and equally surprised at how many of the ladies seemed to have a look of wonton lust.

"Not only will the prisoner sit here for the next two hours," the guard continued, "but she will also receive lashes on her pretty bare feet." She held up the whip that Teresa had seen the night before in the torture chamber and the crowd erupted.

"Now, for a fee," she paused to let the noise die down. "For a fee, you the townspeople can do the whipping."

An even louder cheer roared from the crowd.

"Please make a line at the bottom of the steps and have your money ready."

A half a dozen men and women scooted forward and formed a line below the scaffold. They were digging into their pockets and purses for cash.

"Now, I will demonstrate how to properly whip the prisoner," the guard said.

Teresa sat in her wooden prison and watched the guard remove her jacket and hand it to one of the male guards. She knew how much pain the rubber whip could cause and she was dreading it. The humiliation she was about to suffer was also a huge concern for her at this point.

The guard pulled back the whip and let the first lash fly that landed flush on the sole of her right foot with a crack.

"Ahh!" Teresa cried. It seemed to hurt more than she had remembered.

The crowd erupted again at the sight of the helpless criminal squirming in pain.

Another lash was delivered by the guard, but this time to Teresa's left foot. Teresa had a similar reaction to the lash, but after this blow the vibrator began to buzz again and the mixture of pain and pleasure was making her incredibly horny. She began to fear that if the combination she was enduring were to continue, she would surely cum all over the uncomfortable board she was sitting on, in front of dozens and dozens of people. This, would be humiliating.

The first civilian to pay and get control of the whip was a humongous hirsute, a man who had large arms and legs but with little definition: he resembled an old-school strong man at a traveling circus. To bring even more attention to the spectacle at hand, he removed his shirt which displayed a sweater of hair on his back and chest.

"Three lashes, sir," the guard told him and stepped back to observe.

After wiping sweat from his brow, the man took a huge swing and delivered a blow to Teresa's left sole.

The prisoner winced as the whip sailed her way, but when it struck her there was little to no pain. A stunned silence fell over the disappointed crowd that was eager to see her react in pain to the lash.

"That's one, sir," the guard said, struggling to hold back a laugh.

It donned on Teresa that there was a definite technique to working the whip if you wanted to obtain maximum velocity and maximum pain. It also occurred to her that playing up the pain of the blows to her feet might be a good idea.

The hairy man huffed and puffed as he prepared to swing the whip again. He was visually upset that his first attempt had not been a successful one.

His second swing was even more wild than the first and the tail of the whip landed flush on the same spot as the first.

Again, no pain at all for Teresa but instead of sitting there stoically, she lurched back, flung her hair, and let out a yelp.

The burly brute threw up his arms and paraded back and forth across the stage while the crowd cheered him on.

Teresa watched him and then felt the vibrations begin again on her clit and she began to breathe deeply.

The hirsute eventually made his way back to the prisoner's feet and delivered his third and final last to her right foot. It, too, was benign and Teresa put on another act to make it seem like she was in excruciating pain. Her clit continued to be violated and she did her best to incorporate her gyrations into her painful display.

The vibrations continued until Teresa was about to cum, but once again the vibrator was turned off before she could climax. Raymond stood to her left, observing her ordeal with his hands behind his back and a nasty grin on his face.

The second and third civilians who whipped Teresa's bare feet were also men, and neither of them managed to produce any damaging lashes. The prisoner continued to fake her pain while trying to hold off an orgasm, as the vibrator had been activated again.

The forth person to pay the guard and receive control of the whip was an older lady who could not have weighed more than ninety-five pounds. She quietly made her way to Teresa and lined up to swing the whip. Teresa prepared herself to accept the lash and then flail around in disingenuous agony but there would be no need for her antics. The first lash stung her left sole, a fiery pain that traveled up to her brain and back.

"Ahhh! Fuck me!" Teresa shouted and wiggled her toes.

The female guard had a new type of grin on her face.

The vibrator seemed to have picked up in intensity, or perhaps she had become more sensitive to its pulses. Either way, the pain from the lash combined with the pleasure of getting her twat diddled had her on the brink of an orgasm.

The second lash from the tiny woman was as painful as the first and Teresa was almost there. The third lash tagged her right sole just below her toes, and she began to cum.

Her moans, wailing, and thrashing against her restraints could have easily been mistaken for agony, but the guards knew better. They exchanged dirty grins and continued to enjoy the show.

Raymond also knew that his woman had just cum all over herself because he was indirectly responsible. He used the remote control to turn off the vibrator and shifted his pants to hide his erection.

Two more lashers were allowed to whip the prisoner's tootsies, and neither of them knew what they were doing.

Teresa had been uncomfortably confined in the hellish stocks with her hands bound behind her back for a little over an hour and the awkward position was taking its toll. The entire weight of her legs were being supported by her ankles that were digging into the wood of the stocks. Her shoulders were stiff from having her hands bound behind her and her back was on fire. She found herself shifting her weight from one ass cheek to the other on the thin board, but that was no longer relieving much pain anymore. She was miserable.

The crowd had thinned out considerably and only the true perverts remained to witness her misery. Raymond was of course one of the pervs still there and Teresa glanced over at him to see if he still had a hard on. He did. It was then that the vibrator kicked in again and she noticed that Raymond was holding a small device that looked like a remote control. He then began to rotate his thumb in up/down signals that Teresa quickly realized were correlating with the vibrator turning on and off.

That motherfucker, she thought to herself. What in the hell was going on? It was at that moment that it all started to make sense: the fantastic meals; the isolation in jail; and now the 'randomness' of the bullet vibrator that was lodged into her pussy. She still had a lot of questions that would have to be sorted out later.

The poor prisoner had just about completed her sentence in the stocks and she was more than ready to be released. She dreaded the thought of being paraded back to the jail in the same fashion that had brought her to the stocks.

It was about then that she heard the ruckus developing on the cobblestone streets. There were two men wearing only what appeared to be leather jock straps and nothing else, and they had been strapped into leather harnesses that were pulling a rustic cart. The cart had wooden wheels that rattled on the cobblestones and a woman guard stood on the back of it holding the reigns in one hand and a whip in the other. The poor men had bits in their mouths and their hands were bound behind their backs.

The cart was then diverted off of the road and onto the dirt path that led to the stocks. They were now heading directly towards Teresa and the female guard was whipping the hunks on their backsides.

"Whoa," the guard called out when they got to the scaffold.

The men were both relatively tall and they were well put together with broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs and asses. Sweat ran down from their toned bodies and they were breathing heavily from their arduous journey. A guard stepped off of the scaffold and fed them cool water from bottles of Evian.

Teresa assumed that the men were in the same bizarre boat that she was in, and wondered who had put them up to their humiliating experience. She also noticed that they both were sporting raging boners under the straps that covered their dicks, which might have meant that they had volunteered for the job.