Hey all -- I've had this story in mind for a long time, but I almost didn't write it. There are a lot of reasons for that. I eventually decided to, though, because of Literotica's annual crime and punishment challenge, where you're supposed to write a story about the criminal legal system in some way. I liked the prompt, and I thought there was some good potential there. So, this is my effort for that.
I do want to say, as someone who experiences sexuality through pain and humiliation -- like, that's always been the way it works for me -- I am really, really, really against using public humiliation as a punishment for a crime. Consent is deeply important to me, and I know the headspace that I get put in when I'm being humiliated. I wouldn't want someone to ever experience that without consent. So, to the extent that erotica can be commentary, I'd like this story to be a criticism of those types of public humiliation punishments you see sometimes. I hope that gets clearer as you get further into this story.
Regardless, let's roll through the usual stuff: everyone here is over 18 years old, and this is all fantasy; it's not meant to be real life (even if it is meant to criticize real life a bit). And yeah it's fantasy but, as always...let's hope it's filthy fucking hot fantasy.
***
The most annoying part about the whole thing -- at least until the day Stefan was supposed to actually serve his sentence -- was that Judge Blyesome had ordered him to make his own signs. She'd made it clear that they needed to be big enough to be visible from a ways off -- out in the parking lot of Lilyanne's -- and also made it clear that she'd order him to start over if the store's manager wasn't satisfied with them, but beyond that she hadn't told him what they should look like.
So the night before he was supposed to show up at Lilyanne's to serve out the sentence, he'd bought a sheet of posterboard and some black markers and laid them out on the floor of his miniscule new apartment's kitchen. If he'd still been in the old house, of course, he could have just done this in the garage, but he wasn't in the old house anymore. He'd lost that just like his job at the law firm and his relationship with Kiara on the day he'd gotten caught stealing panties and high heels from Lilyanne's.
He would've liked a drink, too, while he made the signs -- a glass of wine or some whiskey, maybe -- but of course you couldn't drink on probation. And even if he did successfully serve out his sentence out here in front of Lilyanne's, he'd still be on probation. The difference was that if he didn't agree to do this, he'd spend the next year in jail instead of out in the world. And there was no way Stefan Avignon -- the attorney with billboards all over Galena City reminding you that you had rights and promising to enforce them if you called him and forked over his ridiculous retainer -- was going to spend a year in jail. Then his legal career really would be over.
So he'd agreed to the public humiliation piece of all this instead, and Judge Blyesome had just about cackled in the courtroom when he did. She was proud of herself, he could tell. He'd spent enough time in her courtroom to know.
The crowd was already big when Stefan pulled up in his Jaguar, its azure skin gleaming in the bright sun of a September morning. He parked as far away as he could, but even still, the parking lot in front of Lillyanne's was far busier than it usually was on a Saturday morning. Stefan could already see a TV camera or two, sticking up like enemy flags in the crowd.
He took a breath, held it, and let it out. Then he slipped on a pair of sunglasses, shouldered his backpack -- with the two signs inside -- and crossed the asphalt with as much dignity as he could muster.
There was no hope for a stealth approach. The crowd parted as he made his way through it; he heard a shouted question or two from a reporter, the click and snap of photographers doing their work, and a ripple of laughter from the onlookers as he made his way toward the front door of Lilyanne's.
Most of them knew him as a meme, Stefan thought, keeping his head down and ignoring them as he put one foot in front of the other. Those had started right after Judge Blyesome had handed down his sentence, and they were far from the most flattering photos anyone had ever taken of Stefan in court. There was more though -- there'd been a viral TikTok sound for a while, using Judge Blyesome's voice form that hearing and Stefan's flat, defeated acceptance of the humiliating terms she'd laid out.
The sooner he did this, he reminded himself, the sooner it would be over. The internet had a short attention span, especially these days. This was still better than a year in jail.
Sometimes he almost believed it.
The Lilyanne's loss prevention officer who had caught him shoplifting months ago -- Eda, he remembered her name was now, for no reason at all -- stood in front of the store's big glass doors, leaning against a pillar, a proud smirk on her face, her dark ponytail tossed down one shoulder of her uniform. Next to her stood the store manager -- a young woman about Stefan's age named Gretel -- who was not smirking. Gretel was the sole heir of the massive fortune of Lilyanne herself -- the woman who had founded Galena City's most prestigious department store -- and Gretel had made clear to Judge Blyesome she was not pleased about the idea of her great-grandmother's life's working being used as a pawn for public humiliation of one of the judge's rivals. Stefan got the vibe Gretel was concerned her great-grandmother would suddenly decide to cut her out of the will altogether, never mind that the old woman was more than 100 years old now and senile, and had made very clear she wanted Gretel to manage the place until the end of time. In the end, only two things had won Gretel over: the prospect of Stefan's public humiliation bringing in as many paying customers as a Black Friday circa 1998, and the caveat that she get to approve whatever signs Stefan created to satisfy the judge's sentence.
Stefan set the backpack down and glanced up at Eda, who was outright grinning now as she stood up from the pillar.
"Look who decided to show up," she said, hands on her hips now. "I didn't think you'd show."
"A probation violation's nothing to fuck with, but I'd only expect a real cop to know that," Stefan said, casting her a glance just long enough to make sure she got the insult, then looking to Gretel who stood with her hands clasped in front of her as if this were a funeral and not the biggest fucking shopping day for her store in three presidential administrations. "You're the one who has to approve the signs right?"
Gretel blinked and sighed.
"I am, yes," she said. "Eda and I both, actually."
Stefan scowled. He hadn't known that. He could feel Eda's wicked grin against the side of his face like a hot metal poker.
"K," he said, and made a show of being too important for all of this, even as his stomach sank. "Well. Here...they are."
He unzipped the backpack and pulled out the pieces of posterboard, inscribed with the phrases Judge Blyesome had been so proud of.
I DON'T KNOW RIGHT FROM THONG, one read.
The other read ORDERED TO SERVE A SPANKING SENTENCE.
Per Judge Blysome's orders, Stefan had bound these together with string, so they made a sandwich board of sorts, but only one that would fall to the middle of his torso. He handed the signs to Gretel, tried to keep the crowd from seeing them.
Gretel raised her eyebrows, and Stefan felt the blood rush to his face. Eda glanced over her boss's shoulder and burst out laughing, shook her head.
"You're so fucked, bitch boy," she said. "You would've done better in jail."
"Were you at the police academy long enough to figure that out before you dropped out and took this gig?" Stefan asked.
But it sounded hollow and scared, even to him. Eda didn't acknowledge it. She didn't have to.
"The sign looks fine," Gretel said, and handed it back to Stefan, then cleared her throat. "Eda is going to handle...everything else. But I do just want to reiterate that if you fail to complete this successfully, we will be forced to notify the judge."
With that, she nodded and turned, headed back into the store behind her.
Stefan glanced at Eda, a cruel smile on her face. "All right bitch boy. Let's get you out of those clothes."
Stefan gritted his teeth and slipped his polo shirt over his head. There were mocking cheers and catcalls from the crowd behind him as he felt the contrast of the warm sun and the crisp autumn air on his bare back.
"You dropped this," Eda said, and bent to pick up the signs, then slipped them over his head, draping the string over his shoulders.
The crowd burst into laughter as it caught sight of the words ORDERED TO SERVE A SPANKING SENTENCE.
Eda herself was laughing now too, and pointed to his pants.
"Those have to go as well," she said.
Stefan swallowed, mouth dry.
This seemed to give Eda an endless amount of joy. She raised her eyebrows.
"You want us to report you to the judge?" She asked.
Stefan pursed his lips and said nothing. Eda moved toward him, reached for his belt, but he stepped away.
She bent double laughing, put her hands on her knees.
"You going to do it yourself?" She asked. "Clock's ticking, bitch."
Stefan nodded. He knew.
He reached for his belt buckle with trembling hands and undid it, let his jeans fall away. And now he could barely hear the catcalls over the laughter from the crowd behind him.
Judge Blyesome didn't just want him to wear the signs and stand in front of Lilyanne's. She wanted him to wear the underwear and the heels -- the exact pairs he stole -- while he did it. And nothing else.
Stefan slipped his jeans over his ankles and then stepped out of his shoes as well, conscious of the fact that he had to bend over to do it. The crowd behind him certainly seemed conscious of that fact as well.
Eda's eyes went right to his crotch, though -- since she was the only person seeing him from the front just now -- and she raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Stefan knew right away what she was looking at and what she was thinking.
"I...uh...am kind of surprised how well you...fit into those panties, counselor," she said, as Stefan pulled the heels he'd stolen from his backpack as well. "Most guys would have a little more to...tuck?"
"Fuck you," Stefan said, but he wasn't sure she could even hear him now over the jeers and laughter of the crowd, and anyway, his voice shook has he said it.
He stepped into the heels, tried to move, and almost fell over. The signs flapped against his chest and back.
Eda threw her head back and laughed. "First time in heels, I guess?"
Stefan didn't say anything to that. He pulled the empty glass jar from the backpack with the word TIPS written on it and set it on the ground next to him. Another of Judge Blyesome's terms of his sentence: he had to raise enough money -- through payment for spankings -- to pay Lilyanne's back for the thong and the heels he'd tried to steal. He'd gotten lucky there, at least. The heels were on sale for a cool $50; the panties had been tasteful (it was Lilyanne's, after all), but nothing fancy. They'd been valued at $60.
Judge Blyesome had sentenced him to stand in front of Lilyanne's wearing the sign, the panties, and the heels and beg people to spank him and tip him until he'd paid off the full $110. Really, Judge Blyesome had wanted to make him work off the attorney fees and court costs too, but Gretel had balked at that. She thought it would take too long.
The problem, of course, was that while anyone could spank him, no one *had* to tip. And Judge Blyesome wanted him out in front of the store every day until he hit the $110 mark.
"I want those sunglasses off, bitch boy," Eda said, moving closer to him now. "I wish you could see yourself, and you might be able to catch your reflection in our doors behind you if you slip those off."
Stefan wiped his sweat slick palms on his thighs now, finding them bare, of course. Eda didn't wait this time; she moved toward him and took the sunglasses from his face, tossed them to the ground. He could smell her shampoo -- cucumber and coconut, maybe -- as she did, felt her breath on his neck.
Somehow, losing the sunglasses felt worse than just about anything else thus far. The feeling didn't last long, though, because Eda pulled a folding chair out from behind the pillar and set it up in front of her. She slid into it, then grabbed Stefan's wrist and pulled him over her knees.
He felt the rough canvas of her uniform pants -- stretched taut over the tight muscles of her thighs -- on his abdomen, and her hand was cool to the touch against the bare skin of his ass. She stuck a finger into the waistband of the lacy panties, snapped them against his lower back.
Stefan heard the staccato burst of cameras in the crowd, the excited murmur of people talking to one another.
Above him, Eda laughed.
"I can't believe these were the panties you stole, you little slut," she said, and the crowd burst out laughing at that.
"God," she went on, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
