Sausages Bacstory

The very same Friday that Dan was going down, frogmarched into a police car and heading for a night in the cells, Mary was moving up. Career-wise, that is. Her promotion to area marketing director was confirmed, and with it a much bigger salary and matching bonus. While Dan stood shivering in his knickers and bra before the duty officer at the local police station, Mary was settling into her new large corner office. She was looking up online real estate agencies with a view to buying that large house in the nicer area that she'd had her eye on for the past month.

Mary's feel good moment was brief, wiped away by Alice's phone call telling her about Dan's arrest. Then Alice did what Alice was very good at. She had a plan to sort it.

Alice was going to make use of her very intimate relationship with the local magistrate. She had knelt between the magistrate's strong legs and pushed her face up under the magistrate's course tweed skirt to lick her Honour's pussy more than once at various intimate gatherings of the local Sapphic club. Alice was confident the magistrate would agree to accept a guilty plea from Dan to the over-the-top charge laid against him, then go with the house arrest option with Mary as his custodian. From Mary's perspective, turning Dan into a totally compliant and controlled slave would suit her new busy executive life. She now had an upwardly mobile career to focus on, and wanted to focus on that full time.

One conference call between the Chief of Police, the Magistrate, Alice and Mary, and the deal was agreed. Mary would keep Dan totally secluded for the first three months of his sentence during which time they would move to a new address in the gated community that she had been planning to move to anyway.

The next morning, Saturday, Dan had his wrists cuffed on either side to a thick leather belt which was cinched tight about his waist over his orange overalls. His ankles were shackled with leg irons fastened by a one foot length of chain between the cuffs. Dan could just about keep up, in an undignified shuffling trot, with his escort, one on either side of him, as they each gripped one of Dan's elbows and forced him along at a brisk pace out of the cell block and into the yard at the back of the station. You've seen in on TV; the perp 'walk of shame' at the end of which, head pushed down from above, Dan was unceremoniously whooshed into the back of a police car and the door slammed shut behind him. Unshaven, unwashed, and before he even had a chance to use the toilet, which would have unfortunate consequences later, Dan was on his way for his date with the justice system.

It being a weekend, the court convened at the Magistrate's home, a big colonial style building on the outskirts of town. Dan was shuffled in a side entrance and into a small room with no window. Might have been a larder of some sort in the old days. Waiting for him was Officer Sullivan, who had arrested him the previous day at the community college. She told him that legal representation had been arranged for him by his wife, indicating a young woman standing to one side, who looked like she'd hardly finished high school, never mind college. She wore a short grey skirt and a tight white blouse. Hint of a Britney Spears teen vamp about her. She wasn't shy either. Britney immediately spoke up.

'Mr Murnaghan, I'm your legal counsel, appointed by your wife on your behalf. I've have examined to the papers in the case, and the photographic and video evidence. (Paused to give an exaggerated roll of her eyes.) I have spoken with both the Magistrate and your wife. She told me about your slave status and how you obey her in all things.'

At this both the lawyer brat and Officer Sullivan looked at each other and sniggered openly, before she continued. 'Please confirm if that is the case?'

Dan thought briefly about his options and decided he had none.

'Yes, Ma'am, I obey her in all things.'

'Good. Your wife and the Magistrate have agreed that you should plead guilty. I agree. This is an open and shut case. There is clear, detailed, photographic and video evidence of a gross indiscretion of a sexual nature. The video is backed up by forensic evidence drawn from the stain on your trousers. No need to say any more.

'In my experience, a full contested trial in public would be a media circus of the century. Move over OJ, here comes Dan - the erection man. The judge would probably feel obliged to hand down the severest sentence to assuage the popular press and public opinion. You don't want that. Do you? Certainly your wife doesn't.

So, we are agreed. Guilty. Okay?'

Dan nodded his acceptance of the guilty plea.

The kid lawyer reached into her cavernous bag full of documents. Dan expected her to pull out a confession for him to sign. He was very surprised when, instead, out came a large pink ball gag. He recognised it as the one Mary used on him regularly at home.

'Your wife suggested, and we have all agreed, it best if we put this on you,' she said grinning from ear to ear. 'The main purpose of the gag is to emphasise your slave status. That will play well with the Magistrate. Mary has made her aware of your status in her household. The Magistrate is particularly fascinated by the idea of domestic male slavery, apparently. So this will play well with her.'

'Okay,' agreed Dan numbly. 'What next?' was all he could think, as he bent down and opened his mouth wide to make things easy for the schoolgirl lawyer. He assumed the ball gag would be forced into his mouth anyway if he tried to refuse, since Mary had wanted it. Officer Sullivan tightened the gag straps from behind, forcing the large ball behind Dan's teeth, stretching his jaws. He spluttered and choked slightly before settling into a steady loud snorting breaths through his nose. His cock stirred in his panties. Hr hoped the thick cotton of the orange coveralls would hide it.

The lawyer kid was still talking. 'In light of your guilty plea, which I already entered on your behalf, the Magistrate has agreed that we proceed immediately to a full hearing of the case.' She nodded at Officer Sullivan, who moved in and took a firm grip of Dan's arm. 'Your case will be decided here and now. You will be sentenced immediately. You should prepare yourself to be taken from here to the State penitentiary to begin serving your sentence. You can expect to be put away for at least three years. That's the deal we have agreed.'

Instinctively, Dan made a pathetic attempt to run for it. And Officer Sullivan was ready, being well used to this type reaction by your average middle class convict-to-be when faced with the reality of what is about to befall them. Even without her firm grip on his arm, Dan was never going to get anywhere. His legs were shackled. The door was closed. His hands were tied to his sides. All Dan managed to do was bounce up and down a few times while shaking from side to side as he tried to free himself from Officers Sullivan's grip. He snorted wildly like a bolting pony. As quick as it began it was over. Dan's inner Elvis accepting that he is caught in a trap and he can't walk out. He settled back down in defeat, the rattle of his leg irons eased and the inarticulate guttural grunts from behind his gag subsided. In the silence, a slow dark stain spread across the crotch of his orange overalls, eventually reaching half way down his thighs.

'Oh my God, he's pissed himself.' sniggered the brat lawyer, reaching into her bag and pulling out a phone to photograph Dan's humiliating disgrace.

'He's pissed himself yesterday as well when I arrested him,' added Officer Sullivan unhelpfully. Dan blushed with the shame of having these two woman discussing his lack of bladder control like he was some errant toddler that had wet himself in the playground.

Turning and opening the door to the hall, the lawyer called over her shoulder as she passed through, 'Officer Sullivan, kindly take your bed-wetting prisoner into court.'

Dan was led, shuffling, down the hall and into a large drawing room. There were armchairs and a couch before a grand fireplace at one end. At the other a large mahogany dining table filled the width of the room. The people sitting behind the table and facing him were silhouetted by the light from the three big windows behind them. Officer Sullivan, still gripping his arm tightly, brought Dan up to the mid-point table and placed him standing about one foot back from the table edge. There were no chairs on that side of the table, 'Stay,' she said to him, like he was a dog. She moved over to the far end of the table and took a seat. The brat lawyer has already taken up station at the opposite end and was assembling her papers in front of her. Blinking in the bright light, Dan could make out five people facing him on the other side of the table. Directly before him sat a heavyset women in her sixties. She had short iron grey hair, a coarse wool suit and wore thick black glasses. She looked all business. Had to be the Magistrate.

The Police Chief, another large lady, was sitting to her right. She was in full uniform, her blond hair permed and tidy, and looked very official and officious. Mary, his wife and owner, sat to the immediate left of the Magistrate. Outside her sat Alice and Bette respectively. Dan was surprised to find them there. The police chief and magistrate's heads were together as they looked over some files. Mary was in deep whispered conversation with Alice and Bette. Dan's entrance was ignored by them all. He stood before them breathing his snorting breaths. At a small separate desk in the corner, a mousey bespectacled women sat hunched over a stenograph machine. That's the court reporter, concluded Dan. He took a deep breath and waited.

'Myrtle,' called the Magistrate, turning in the direction of the court reporter. 'I want you to write up the record of this court session fully and properly as if we were in the county courthouse. This is a formally constituted sitting of the court. We are going to be quick. It's the weekend after all, and I'm sure we all have better things to do. I have golf game to play and I'm due on the first tee in an hour. You'll dot the i's and cross the t's for me won't you, Myrtle?'

'Yes Ma'am,' answered Myrtle, who then called out for everyone here present to respect the court etc. etc. 'The court is now in session,' she concluded, and began tapping rapidly at her machine.

The Magistrate, never once looking at Dan, addressed the people on either side of her.

'I've reviewed the evidence. The main charge is clearly proven. The guilty plea of the accused is accepted.' With a smile at Mary, she continued, 'I've noted the unusual arrangement whereby the accused is effectively 'owned' by his wife, whereby he has contractually agreed to obey and, as needs be, be punished by his wife or someone acting on her behalf. This is not for the record, Myrtle, but the court will take that into consideration later in the proceedings.'

Dan was in no doubt that, as far as the Magistrate was concerned, he was going to jail. Given that certainty, Dan thought about Johnson, the guy who had shared the holding cell with him at the local police station for a few hours yesterday. He wondered about the chances of him ending up being Johnson's toy-boy in the penitentiary. After Johnson's lurid account of the other options that his ass might be employed for in jail, Dan now considered that he'd be doing well to get the Johnson gig. As he waited for his sentence to be pronounced, he couldn't help his breathing tightening. The gig was up. It was all over.

After a theatrical pause the Magistrate looked directly at Dan, cleared her throat, and pronounced sentence. 'Daniel Murnaghan, you are hereby found guilty as charged. I hereby sentence you to a term of three to five years imprisonment in the State Penitentiary. The sentence is to commence forthwith.'

A shiver ran through Dan on hearing the formal passing of his sentence. The women around the table looked him with that smug certainty of being in control, of him being a pawn in their hands. That 'who's the boss now' look. That 'we are running this show, boy, and we are going to enjoy making you suffer' look. The 'girls on top' moment. No mercy there. Dan now accepted, indeed expected, that the women who ruled his life would treat him approximately as they would a pet dog; sometimes talked about, mostly ignored, very occasionally talked at, as in 'go fetch, but never talked to. Dan was well on his way to reaching the true submissive male state of mind whereby, in his eyes, all women were conferred with natural authority and he obeyed their orders without question.

Now that he had received his sentence, Dan patiently waited for Officer Sullivan vice like grip on his arm. He expected she would haul him, shuffling in pathetic convict fashion, off to some prison transport to start his the one-way journey up country to the State prison. Would Mary ever even bother to visit him he wondered, glancing her way. She caught his eye and gave a subtle thumbs up sign followed by a flattened hand, a 'wait' or 'calm down' sort of gesture. What's that about Dan wondered? He also wondered why Officer Sullivan hadn't moved from her seat.

The Magistrate, after looking at her notes and glancing towards Mary, resumed.

'Having passing sentence, I will now take account of the prisoner's particular domestic circumstances, whereby the prisoner has submitted to the supervision of his wife. Therefore, I have decided to direct that the prisoner shall serve his sentence under licence in the full legal custody of his wife, Ms Mary Hemmings, at her home address.'

'This concessionary arrangement is subject to review by me at any time. If I so decide, for stated reasons, or on the recommendation of Ms Hemmings or the Chief of Police, I shall have the prisoner removed from Ms Hemming's custody and remanded to the State penitentiary to serve the remainder of his sentence at that place.'

Dan felt relief flooding through him as he heard the first part of the Magistrate's clarification of his sentence. He was going home, not to the State prison. The nightmare was over before it had begun.

The Magistrate, as if she sensed Dan's giddy relief, looked straight at him, pointing a finger for emphasis. 'That means, Murnaghan, that I can have you transferred to the State penitentiary at any time. And I won't hesitate if I feel you deserve it. Understood?'

Dan nodded furiously. He understood alright and he badly wanted her to understand that he understood. He tried his best to give the impression that he would be a very good boy in future.

'The formal part of these proceedings are closed.' the Magistrate continued looking across to the corner of the room at the stenographer. 'Myrtle, you can depart and write the case up. Log the prisoner and his sentence into the system. I'll sign off on it Monday.' Looking at each end of the table in turn, she added, 'Likewise for the lawyer for the defence and the arresting officer. You are no longer required. The prisoner is, as of now, in Ms Hemmings custody. Thank you for your services, ladies.'

'And Officer Sullivan, could you please leave the keys to the prisoner's restraints? Ms Hemmings will arrange to return them to the station along with the prisoner's coveralls, which I suspect are a little damp. Ms Hemmings will, I'm sure, arrange to have the prisoner clean and Iron the coveralls before returning them to the police station. 'If he doesn't do it properly we just might have to send him immediately to the State Penitentiary and have him assigned to the laundry detail to learn his trade properly. Ha, ha.'

They all, save Dan, had a bit of a giggle at this burst of wit from the Magistrate, which clearly signalled that the formal proceedings were at an end.

Dan's heart fluttered a little as he realised from the Magistrate's banter how precarious his new existence would be. The idea that any moment, on the whim of either the magistrate, the Chief, or his wife, he could still end up in jail for years was unsettling and quickly dampened his initial burst of euphoria. He sucked in a deep breaths through his nose and around his ball gag and decided to focus on the good news. I'm going home, he repeated over and over in his head.

The Magistrate then she launched into the 'domestic arrangements.'

'Now that the prisoner is in your charge, Mary, we need to implement the special terms that are to apply to his custody. Firstly, we decided the prisoner's surname should be changed by deed poll to your name. Best for everyone concerned, but also only right because, as a slave, he is your property after all. Agreed?'

'Agreed.'

'Secondly, we agreed the prisoner shall wear a permanent chastity device. Bette will fit that shortly. Agreed?'

'Agreed.'

Now Dan realised why Bette was present at the court hearing. She's the mechanically minded member of this group of women who hold his future, and his balls, in the palm of their collective hand.

'Thirdly, we agreed that the prisoner shall be subject to regular corporal punishment, administered by persons designated by you. And, as a bonus for making all this happen, I am to be one of those designated persons, and the prisoner is to be delivered to me on one day per month for my use and to be punished as I wish. Starting today with his first judicial punishment. Correct?'

'Agreed. Correct,' said Mary, with a smile, while looking up and down at the forlorn figure of husband, Dan, now her prisoner. He was rocking slowly in front of them across the big table, probably tired from standing with his legs slightly apart and his arms trapped to his sides by the big leather belt that was cinched and locked tight around his waist. He looked fairly miserable in his soiled orange coveralls. He was breathing heavily through his nose, his mouth and jaw distorted by the large pink ball gag. Some drool was beginning to leak out and run down his chin, hanging from it like from a teething toddler. He looked thoroughly defeated and chastened. The thought of being in chastity for three years would wipe the smile of anybody's face, she thought. If they could smile, that is.

'Okay ladies,' said the Magistrate. 'Let's get on with it. First the name change. I've drawn up the Deed Poll document. It says, basically, that the person known heretofore as Daniel Murnaghan shall henceforth be known as Nathan Hemmings and will use that name at all times.'

'Mary, uncuff his hands and have him sign the document. Alice and Bette can sign as witnesses.'

Dan's get-out-of-jail high subsided a bit when he realised that, as well as giving him Mary's surname, which he expected, his first name was being dropped as well. This was an extra putdown. As Mary took the heavy belt and cuffs off Dan, she could see he was put out. She told him not to worry. She'd still call him Dan; that he'd still be known as Dan among her friends. Not planning on me having any friends, then, thought Dan, glumly. Mary said that the new name was only for official purposes and documents. Just like show dogs have fancy official names, but at home they are called Spot or Rover, she added, by way of consoling him.

Dan, the dog, signed on the dotted line. That's it, he thought. In future, his name would be whatever his wife decided it would be. A line of his schoolboy Shakespeare came back to him; "He that filches from me my good name...something, something...makes me poor indeed." Poor indeed, thought Dan glumly. No money, no job and now no name. No marks for guessing who wore the trousers in his house from now on.

'Okay then, ladies, we need to move along. Put him in chastity,' she ordered bossily. 'Bette? You can use the kitchen table. Take his legs irons off and strip him. There's a shower unit in the bathroom off the hall. You can wash him there,' the Magistrate called out as she, Mary, and Alice headed for the kitchen to witness Dan's emasculation.