Damsel For The Prosecution

Her shirt was

really

tight: tight, and dazzling white, and straining to contain her pert, perfect breasts. Edward couldn't take his eyes off her chest - and she couldn't help noticing him.

"I'd pay attention to the case, Mr Black," she said loudly, "and not so much to me. You're in a great deal of trouble, and I look forward to putting you behind bars for a very long time."

She was right, of course; he was on trial for murder, and everyone agreed the case was open and shut. So much so that no lawyer with an ounce of sense would take the case. Which was why he was representing himself.

"Are you sure I can't give you the number of a good lawyer?" she added, unable to resist. Her name was Rachel White, and her reputation in court was fearsome: she had never lost a case. She was known for her brilliant mind, forensic attention to detail, cruel streak, healthy dose of arrogance and love of argument. "It almost seems unfair to tear you apart in there. You're so utterly defenceless."

"I reckon I'll be okay," he smiled.

They were waiting to go into court. He was handcuffed and surrounded by guards, of course, and she had a crowd of associates and paralegals and interns, but he felt like they were alone in the room. Certainly they were the only ones doing any talking.

God, she was gorgeous. Dark wavy hair, big eyes, red lips. Long shapely legs in tight trousers that framed her lovely arse like two scoops of vanilla ice cream. He was having a lot of trouble keeping his mind on the case. Which was maybe part of her plan. Although, given he'd been found with the victim's blood all over him, the murder weapon in his car, his DNA all over the crime scene, a watertight motive and no alibi, it wouldn't take a mastermind to close this one.

Still, he'd be out in 40 years. If he behaved himself.

"They're ready for us!"

The crowd filed into the courtroom. And the heavy antique doors swung slowly closed.

--------------

The doors swung open, and the media - kept out of the courtroom by the judge's orders - rushed forward. It had only been an hour, but something must have happened. Maybe it was such a straightforward case that he'd already been found guilty.

First out was Black, the murderer. Wait, he wasn't handcuffed - and he was smiling. What had happened?

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press," he proclaimed, "I'm happy to tell you that I am a free man. The judge threw out the case!"

There were gasps, even from seasoned hacks who had seen it all before. How on earth had the defence won this one, with the odds stacked against them so heavily?

"What happened? Why was it thrown out?"

"Well, I believe the judge took issue with some of the prosecution's tactics. Without wishing to criticise a fellow lawyer" - he smiled smugly - "I must report that Ms White did not have a good day in court. As you can see for yourselves."

He stepped aside, and Rachel emerged from the courtroom, blushing furiously and clearly mortified. She was firmly gagged with a length of knotted cloth between her teeth; her wrists and elbows were bound tightly behind her back, forcing her magnificent bosom into a position of glorious (yet humiliating) prominence; and her ankles and knees were thoroughly secured with rope, forcing her to take tentative little hops.

The camera flashes were blinding as the journalists rushed to get photos and video footage of the helpless lawyer.

"Ms White! Ms White! What went wrong? Why are you tied up?"

She clearly didn't want to take any questions, but was in no position to escape.

"Mmmffh mmfffh mmmmff. Mmmfff hmmmf mmm mmmfff hmmmm!"

"If I may be permitted to translate for m'learned friend," said Black, popping up with a merry smile, "the lady got complacent and messed up her case so badly that the judge ordered her to be trussed up and gagged. Which was a great relief to everyone in the courtroom, but the prosecution's case rather fell apart after that. Nobody else on the team knew the briefs, so she had to give opening arguments with a nice tight gag in her mouth, and you see how that worked out."

He trailed off, lost again in distraction. He was staring at the white material of poor Rachel's shirt, which was strained to the very limit by her thrust-forward breasts. She realised he was looking, and could do absolutely nothing about it.

"Where was I? Oh yes. The judge remanded Ms White to my custody for the weekend, until she can go to jail on Monday. I'm sure we'll find ways to amuse ourselves. Or amuse me, at any rate. Oh, and her firm has given me her job. They said she was an embarrassment to the profession."

This was too much, and Rachel began furiously writhing and mmmffffing for all she was worth. To absolutely no avail: she couldn't move a muscle and could barely make a sound. But the attempt was quite enough for the bailiffs, who swooped in with cord and cloth and began systematically tightening and reinforcing until she could barely breathe.

Her chest, waist, arms and legs were now constricted by dozens upon dozens of loops of cruelly tight, carefully knotted cord, which creaked loudly as she struggled. A bailiff finally looped a leash of cord around her throat and handed the other end to Edward.

"I think," he said, "that Ms White here will be my first client - unless she has any objections?"

Squeaks, mewls and mmmphhs, but no intelligible words.

"It's settled. I've decided to pursue a strategy of distracting the judge with Ms White's lovely assets, so rest assured that she will be attending court in full damsel in distress regalia - which means tight everything: a tight shirt, tight ropes and a tight gag. We don't want her saying the wrong thing and messing everything up again!"

The media laughed heartily. Rachel blushed, fumed, wriggled futilely and began to cry. Then, after Edward gave a firm yank on her leash, she obediently hopped after him, wondering how she had messed things up so badly.

FIN