The Ballad of Verdene Molloy Ch. 02

"It remains for me to pass sentence. Bendham Harris III, you have repeatedly shown yourself to be physically and intellectually ill-equipped to be the warden of a major correctional facility. However, I am prepared to take in mitigation the fact that you come from a family which maintains a high tradition of public service, and that up until now, you have been found not guilty, due to lack of evidence, of the approximately eight dozen charges of negligence and sexual assault which have been brought against you. Only this plaintiff's technical know-how and foresight put her in a position to provide clinching evidence that you are, as has often been said about you, not fit to run a prison."

The warden looked up at the judge, pouting, annoyed.

"And so," said the judge, "it gives me little pleasure to say that, Bendham Harris III, you have been found guilty of serious criminal negligence in the running of a prison facility, and of the type eight sexual assault of a female inmate."

Verde watched the judge.

"My sentence," said the judge, "is as follows: you are to consider yourself formally reprimanded by your employers Homecare Inc, and are to be reminded that a further two successful findings of either serious criminal negligence or of type eight sexual assault on your part will result in criminal prosecution. In the meantime, the Dennis Hopper Correctional Facility's overall rating is to be downgraded from A to A minus."

"Aw, come on!" said the warden hotly.

"Suck it up, Harris," said the judge, shuffling his papers together. "You made your bed. Court adjourned."

The judge got up. Verde stood up. The warden glared at her.

"This is your fault!" he yelled. "You dumb cunt! You let them do this to you! My career path has been seriously set back by some idiot fucking grifter who can't look after herself!"

"That's enough," said the judge, glancing at the bailiff, who sighed and started to walk over to the warden.

"No!" shouted the warden. "Have you any fucking idea what this is going to do to my bonus?!"

"Harris," said the judge wearily, "clam it, or I'm going to have find you in contempt."

"Fuck this court!" the warden fumed. The bailiff came over and laid a hand on the warden's hand to calm him.

"Harris," said the judge, "I said shut it."

"I'll fucking teach you, you fucking fuck!" the warden screamed at Verde, and before anyone could do anything, he grabbed the bailiff's sidearm from her holster, pointed it at Verde, and pulled the trigger.

There were many lucky circumstances to what happened next. One was that the warden was a white-collar professional who had never used a gun in his life. Another was that Verde saw him making a move for the gun and started to move out of the way. Another was that the warden was hysterical with rage, too much so to shoot straight. The result was that the bullet, instead of going where he aimed it, which was into Verde's face, ricocheted off the guardrail near Verde's hand, and missed her completely.

There were also some unlucky circumstances. The first was that the impact of the bullet sent a large shard of metal into Verde's right eye, puncturing it and causing her to scream and fall to the floor. The other was that the bullet continued on its way, hit the armoured frame of the window and changed direction for the ceiling, where it struck a lighting bracket and changed direction one more time, eventually hitting the prison lawyer in the head and killing him.

In the ensuing chaos, the warden stood in the middle of the room for a moment waving the gun over his head and looking for Verde and petulantly bellowing that he was going to get justice, while the bailiff wisely scrambled under the plaintiff's table, and everybody else screamed and hid under the furniture, until the judge, who by that point was cowering behind his desk, disgustedly slammed the panic button. The doors of the courtroom opened and four armed guards burst in. The warden didn't exactly notice that they were there until it was too late. After shouting at him to put the gun down and noting his failure to do so, the guards gave him a last warning before finally opening fire, and, by means of multiple gunshot wounds to his head and torso, they finally put the warden out of everyone else's misery.

***

After the unexpected turnaround in the courtroom, the city authorities begged Verde, who was back in hospital, not to take it to another trial. Verde negotiated an out-of-court settlement that was so big that they told her that they would have to close the children's wing of a local hospital in order to pay for it. She paid no mind.

Then she was told that Homecare Inc, the company that ran the prison on contract from the planetary government, was suing the government for damages relating to the mental distress of their warden. The public defender called her to his office and admitted that although Homecare Inc had little case, it could take years to get her money. He would pursue it. But there was one of him, and they had dozens of lawyers. And so she had to look after herself.

She had lost her body hair, her golden complexion and one eye. They couldn't save it, but they gave her the cheapest possible artificial one. It was plastic and looked it, with a bright blue fake iris and radial black bars at 45 degree intervals around the circular black lens, a total mismatch for the deep black one on the other side. Her vision in it was adequate but tended to go black and white whenever she was tired.

Verde left hospital in no more pain, but broke.

She spent a depressing day in the library, poring over the opportunities, realising that she no longer had any access to her usual quick ways of earning money. On top of which she was thoroughly on the files of this planet's justice system, so anything she did would have to be legal or a very pissed-off facility would soon be receiving her once again.

As the afternoon wore on, and she got hungrier, she realised with impending dread that there was basically nothing for it but to go with what she had.

She cold-bloodedly went to the darker parts of the net and found the places that didn't like to advertise in the family papers. She chose the one that seemed the least terrifying, and booked a meeting with the boss.

***

Yulian Markvitz was fabulous, there was no doubt about that, with perfect features, a firm jaw, kiss-me-you-moron-lips and cheekbones you could cut bread with, but he was also scary. Six foot three and with an incongruous fluffy pink boa over his oiled shoulders, he sat behind his desk and looked at the small, hooded, shaded figure with frank scepticism.

"Honey," he said, "I haven't got all day. What do you want."

"I need work," said Verde. "I hear you do scenes."

"I might," he said, "but what makes you think I'd have you in them?"

"I'm tough," she said, "and I can take a beating."

"Promising," he said. "But can you be enthusiastic? Hmmm? Can you really make it look like you want nothing more than to be held down by a pack of butches and pissed on? Can you sell me that you love it? That's what marks out the good ones from the bad ones. If you just put on a usual show for me, I won't invite you back. But if you can move me, darling - well, you got yourself a ball game. What experience do you have?"

"I've never done this for money," Verde admitted, hiding behind her glasses, her face shaded under the hood, staring at the desk, too embarrassed to look him in the face. He snorted with impatience.

"Get the fuck out of my office," he said.

"Wait," she said. "I've been teamed. Just, not for money."

He was silent for a moment.

"Where?" he said.

"Inside," she said.

"Hah," he said thoughtfully.

"It changed me," she said. "I can do it now. I think I can take anything you can throw at me."

"Brave words," he said. "What'd you do? Get blindsided in the showers?"

"No," she said. "A Draconian took my girl. I fucked up one of her crew. She wasn't pleased."

He was silent, and then let his breath out in a long hiss.

"That," he said, "is badass. You got teamed by a Draconian?"

"And the rest of her crew," Verde said.

"Holy shit," Yulian said, swinging his booted feet off the desk and sitting up. "Okay, honey, I take it back. You got teamed by a Draconian crew and you can still walk, I'm fuckin' interested. Is it true they do that thing with tattoos that -"

"Yes," she said.

"Did they piss on you?"

"Yes," she said, teeth clenched.

"Is it true what they say about their piss?"

"Yes," she said. "You want to see?"

"Show me," he said softly, and not without a hint of grudging tenderness.

She took off her glasses and saw him flinch at her one cheap plastic eye and its deep black sister, then she tossed back the hood, revealing her ivory scalp.

She shucked off her black suit jacket and pulled the hoodie over her head, then stepped out of her boots and slid her pants down her legs. Finally, she took off the black bra and slid her panties down, and stood before him, stark naked, bald and white-skinned, biting her lip to hide her nervousness.

"Whoa . . ." he said softly.

Verde couldn't help it; the script on her body flickered over her skin briefly.

"What was that?" he said.

"The tattoos," she said, trembling slightly at the memory.

"They show up when you're stressed," he said.

He stood up. The script rippled over her body again. He was staring at her in what, for someone with such a reputation for bedding cute femme bois and large men and absolutely nobody else, was a very odd way indeed.

"You . . ." he said in a thick, odd voice, "are . . . interesting."

"Do you think," Verde said, dry-mouthed, "you could use me?"

"I do," he said, coming around the desk and walking up to her. He touched her bare shoulder.

The script flickered violently all over her body, like lines of error messages on a busted monitor. She looked over her shoulder at him.

He ran his hands down Verde's bare body and shuddered.

"What is it?" she said.

"Nothing," Yulian said.

"What are you doing?" she said, alarmed, as he stroked her body again.

"I don't know," he said in a thick voice. She turned around to face him.

"Hey," she said, "sorry, but I came here because this is the most famous cross place in the system!" It wasn't true, there were more famous and more prestigious places that catered to people who weren't fussy what sex of person they were making friends with, but this one was by no means the worst.

"Yeah," Yulian said, staring hungrily at Verde's naked body. She covered herself with her hands, and he yanked them easily away.

She felt a shock of fear, but also a peculiar and undeniable and not entirely welcome thrill.

What? She wanted this guy to be groping her?

"Excuse me," she said, "but you're, like, totally gay, right?"

"Yeah . . ." he muttered, running his hands boldly across her breasts, stroking them, making her gasp with unexpected and unwanted pleasure. Verde was disoriented and panicky; it was like she was being stimmed, but there was no stim. She absolutely did not want him to be touching her like this, but whenever he did it, her body thrilled at it, even if her mind was repelled. Yulian reached down between Verde's naked thighs and stroked her. She gasped with shock. She was so wet.

"Ohhh, fuck," she said, shuddering.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," he muttered, "you're a chick, why am I, but you, jeezes, you're so fucking hot, I can't stop . . ."

"P-please," she gasped, as he turned her away from him and started to bend her forward over the desk. Normally she would have fought free, but the shocking warmth and pleasure she was feeling was robbing her will to physically resist him.

Oh, fuck, was this something the Draconians had done? To make her take so much physical pleasure in sex that she couldn't stop anyone doing anything to her? No matter how much she didn't want it?

Verde's speculations were cut short when he abruptly tied his boa around her eyes and freed his cock from his jeans. She felt it, hot and thick against the tops of her thighs.

"Oh fuck," she gasped, "are . . . are you raping me?"

"Doesn't feel like it," Yulian panted, this gorgeous specimen of manhood behind her, someone who under normal circumstances would have been the object of a few naughty private fantasies, but who was now bending her naked and blindfold over a desk and shoving his cock up her all-too-receptive pussy.

"AAAAAAUUNNNGGHHHH!" Verde screamed, outraged, as he pushed into her, and her outraged was not dimmed but doubled by the fact that it felt so fucking good. Something had been done to her. No question.

"Oh, gods," she moaned, blind and helpless as he held her down, "you fucking prick, I can't believe you would fucking rape me in your office, I mean you're fucking gay, for a start . . ."

"Honey," Yulian panted, as he pumped his long, slender cock in and out of her pussy, "I can fuck anything and anyone I want."

"But you can't want this," she gasped, "I'm a girl, come on . . ." Her orgasm was building, which was the really humiliating thing. She was getting off on it, even though no consent had been sought or offered. Something was seriously wrong, somewhere.

"Not a problem right now," Yulian said breathlessly. "Oh, fuck, girl, you are . . . you are a piece of work . . ."

"Please, no," Verde said desperately, "please, n-no, please stop, this is wrong, this is . . ."

Her bare tits and stomach squirmed on the padded leather of his desk as he pumped into her, and then her eyes opened wide beneath the blindfold as she felt his spit falling onto her asshole.

"Oh gods," she moaned, "you're going in there too?!"

"I have to," he said, pulling out of her pussy and pressing his cock against the sweet, tight target of her anus.

Even just the pressure of him threatening to do it made the first wave of orgasm tear through her.

"Oh, ohhh, ooooh, oooh . . . oh fuck!" she squealed, crimson with humiliation, and he hadn't even done it yet. She thrashed her legs feebly but she had no fight in her. Her mind was repelled but her body utterly wanted this.

He leaned in, firm and determined but also careful, and Verde's mouth twisted into a grimace and then opened wide as she felt his cock head part her anal muscles and slide up into her asshole, in the final humiliation.

Yulian was expert. You'd expect him to be; the guy had had sex with many thousands of other men. His technique in her pussy was rudimentary and based on raw power. His technique in Verde's asshole was that of a master.

He made her scream and weep and beg for it, and promise him anything, and pledge allegiance to his rainbow colours, and vow never to have sex with any other man but him. His reward was Verde thrashing and climaxing and begging him for more. Hers were the orgasms torn from her unwilling body.

He grabbed Verde's hips and pulled her back, impaling her on his cock, and she opened her eyes wide beneath the blindfold and squealed, then shut them and again and went "AAAAUUGGH!" from the wave of filthy, illicit pleasure that it caused her. Part of her mind was screaming at her that this was an invasion, a violation, something she had neither sought nor wanted; the other part was revelling in the feeling of being brutally taken and used like a five-cred hooker.

He moved forward, making animal grunts, manoeuvring Verde so that her feet left the ground and she was sprawled on her belly on his desk, knocking ornaments and his teacup to the floor. He didn't seem to care but mounted her hips and lay on her, crushing her under his bulk and snorting as he pumped into her. Verde groaned with the ache of him filling her asshole and the humiliation of it, and gasped as yet another orgasm made her shut her eyes tight and convulse uncontrollably.

Finally, at last, he came, his semen spurting deep into her rectum, and they lay there locked together for a moment, the naked girl under the buff, beautifully groomed gay man, before he coughed suddenly and scrambled off her, tucking himself back into his expensive jeans.

"What the fuck was that?" he gasped.

"You're asking me?!" Verde sobbed. "You're the one who decided to rape me up my ass!"

She heard him pacing round the office, muttering to himself. There was a clink of glass and a sound of drinking.

"I do not do that," he said, sounding shocked. "I am not that guy. I didn't decide anything. I don't even like women, for crying out loud."

There was a pause. Verde lay face down on the table, spent and wrung out, not caring that she was still naked.

"Holy shit," he muttered. "That's it."

She felt her clothes being tossed on her and slowly rolled over, pulling the boa off her eyes, wincing and blinking. She sniffed and wiped her eye.

"Cover yourself up," he said, standing there, pointedly not looking at her. "I'm serious."

"I'm sorry I disgust you so much, now that you've finished giving me your non-consensual butt-fucking," she muttered, finding her panties and sliding them back on.

"It's not that," he said, covering his eyes. "Don't you get it? It's the fucking tattoos, kid."

"What?" she said. He glanced up at her and, seeing she was still braless, covered his eyes again.

"I said, cover yourself up!" he urged her. "It's the tats! As soon as I could read what it said on you, I . . . it sounds fucked up, but . . . I had to do what they said. There's some kind of mind-control thing encoded into them, I don't know what. But you got to cover yourself up or I'm gonna want to do it again."

"Fine," she whined, and quickly put her bra and suit trousers and hoodie on. The words were still glowing a dull silver on her, but as she got dressed they faded into whiteness.

"Good," he said, relieved. "Take a seat."

She put her jacket on, raised her hood to shadow her brow, and slipped her dark glasses back on, then sat. He sat behind his desk once more.

"I'm sorry, all right?" he said, spreading his hands. "What can I say? I wasn't myself. I don't force myself on everybody job applicant. If I did, people would know about it. Like I said, I'm not that guy. You believe me, don't you?"

She stared at him. To be fair, he looked genuinely shaken. He was pale and sweating, his hands were trembling and he had another pull at his drink.

"It's all right," she said sullenly. "I guess I'm not surprised. The Draconians really wanted to fuck me up. Looks like they succeeded."

A wave of self-pity went through her and, to her embarrassment, she started crying. He came around the desk and knelt next to her.

"Hey," he said softly. "Don't feel too bad. For some of it you looked like you were even enjoying it."

"I was!" she sobbed. "That's what's so bad! I don't want to enjoy being fucking raped! I don't want to spend the rest of my life as the galaxy's semi-willing, fucking . . . fucktoy!"

He held her as she wept for a moment. He handed her a tissue as she wiped her eye and nose.

"I should be destroyed by now," she said, "but the fucking endorphins . . . it's not like it was inside. That was the real thing, the worst thing ever."

"I know," he said softly. "I've been there."

She glanced at him, and he squeezed her hand.

"This was more like . . . you know what it's like?" she said. "It's like getting drunk in public. Just humiliating, and shaming, and stupid, but once I start I can't help myself, and because I fucking enjoy it physically, part of me hates the rest of me."

"Could be worse," he said. "You could not enjoy it at all."

"At least that way I wouldn't be so pissed at myself," she said, and she took off the shades and buried her face in her hands.