The Judge II: Turning the Tables
A month had passed since the "party" at which I provided the entertainment for Judge Santos and her friends. I began to feel a sense of relief. I had feared that the party was to be just the first in a series of demands placed on me. In reality, she had blackmailed me. There was no other word for it. Blackmailers usually return for more. The feeling of relief was mixed, at times, with a twinge of regret. It had been embarrassing to be forced to masturbate in front of a roomful of middle-aged women, but it had also been exciting. I still became aroused as well as embarrassed by the memory.
Then, another summons to chambers. Again, I was instructed to meet her late in the afternoon, just before the courthouse closed at 5:00. As I passed through security and walked toward her chambers, I felt as if my heart was trying to pound a hole through my chest and that my stomach was about to leap out my throat. Nevertheless, I felt my erection pressing against my suit pants. What could she have in store for me this time?
There was no one in her outer office. When I pressed the buzzer, she admitted me herself. "Mr. Mike, come right in. I'm so pleased to see you."
I did not respond. I followed her silently into her chambers, conscious of the bulge in my pants as I stood in front of her desk.
"I don't know if I've ever thanked you providing the entertainment for my friends. You did an excellent job. We all enjoyed it so much."
I did not respond.
"Don't pretend that you didn't enjoy it. It was obvious that you enjoy entertaining women. Don't deny it. Indeed, I am going to provide you with another opportunity. This occasion will be a bit more private, and yet more public at the same time. I am involved in an extremely boring securities trial. The witnesses and the lawyers simply drone on and on. It is all I can do to remain awake. I have come up with a solution."
I remained silent.
"Don't pretend you aren't interested." She smiled widely. "I can see that you are interested," she added. Standing, she reached across her desk and gave the crotch of my pants a gentle squeeze. "The evidence is right here," she laughed.
All I could do was blush. I felt completely helpless.
"Tomorrow, you will arrive in court at 9:30. My clerk will usher you to your new, ahem, position. The trial will resume at 10:00. It will be your job to provide me with enough stimulation to keep me alert throughout the day."
That night, I was overcome by anxiety as I tried to sleep. I would drift off for a few minutes, only to awaken, drenched in sweat, imagining that my career was to be ruined. Dreams of being naked in court, of being entrapped in some sting operation, or of being imprisoned for life as some sort of sex slave. The dreams became more feverish. Laying awake, trying to imagine what the day would bring. By dawn, I had a plan. After making a few preparations, I dressed in my newest suit and headed for court. There probably was no point in dressing up, but I might as well look good in the court building. I arrived at Judge Santos' chambers precisely at 9:30 and was admitted immediately. Her clerk, a woman tall woman with dark hair, long legs, high cheekbones and a ready smile, was waiting for me.
"This way," she told me, with a wide smile. She led me behind the judge's bench, while telling me how much she enjoyed working for Judge Santos and how the judge was always showing her new things. "You will wait for the judge under there," she said, pointing under the bench. This did not come as a complete surprise to me, although I was relieved to discover that a recessed space had been cut into the floor near the front of the bench, away from where the judge would be seated. While it would be far from luxurious, there would be some room for my legs, and I would not be completely cramped. I was struck, however, that this suggested that I might not have been the first to sit under the judge's bench while she was seated above.
"You may want this," the clerk told me, handing me a cup of water. "And you might as well let me take your coat. You will be very warm under there as it is, and you don't want to get it wrinkled." She smiled a wide, happy grin. Taking my coat, she told me, "You'd better get settled. The marshals will be unlocking the courtroom soon, and the lawyers will start to come in. There are a lot of them in this case."
I slid under the desk. The area under the front of the bench was far from roomy, but there was enough of space to allow me to move my legs occasionally so that I would not become cramped. After a few minutes, I heard a low rumble of voices, punctuated by an occasional chuckle, to indicate that counsel had been allowed into the room. It became warm in my confined area, and I began to feel drowsy.
I was brought back to attention by a sharp rap of a gavel, quite loud from my position, and the order, "All rise." I could envision the lawyers standing and hear the clerk intone the "oyez" as the judge approached the bench. I saw sensible shoes, ankles, and the hem of a black robe in front of me as she stood for a moment. Then she took her chair and slid under the bench, blocking out the light and leaving me momentarily blinded. I heard her giving instructions to the lawyers, and then she instructed someone to "call you next witness."
My eyes began to adjust to the darkness. At the moment, all I could see were her dark shoes, ankles and a bit of calf as her robe had ridden up a bit when she took her seat. After a few minutes, as the voices in the courtroom droned on indistinctly, she removed one shoe and began to poke around with her toe. I saw that she was wearing no stockings. Her toe prodded me a few times in the chest. Then, as she seemed to get her bearings, she moved downward until she located my crotch. She pressed her toe against my organ, which immediately responded, much to my chagrin. She spread her first and second toes, placing one on either side of the shaft, and began to gently rub up and down. As soon as she could feel that I was fully erect, she put her foot back on the floor.
There was little doubt in my mind as to what I was expected to do. And, if my plan was to work, I had to follow through.
I took her left foot in my hands and began to squeeze and knead it, pressing my thumbs into each of the many indentations between the many bones of her foot. Slowly, I worked my way up to her ankle. Then, I took that foot, and placed it between my legs, where she could feel my hardness against the sole of her foot. I took the other foot between my hands and give it a similar massage. When I reached the ankle of that foot, I placed one hand on either side of her calf, and slowly but steadily began to move my hands upward, over the thick part of the calf muscle. Past the hard bone of her knee. Bending my head to avoid bumping into the desk, my hands moved up along the increasing wideness of her thigh. Moving slowly, getting closer. When I felt the muscle start to grow more narrow, I let my right hand stop where it was, in the warmth between her thighs, squeezing gently, while my left hand continued upward. My arm stretched out until my fingers could push under her rear, confirming what I has suspected. She was wearing no panties. I felt her shift her weight to allow my hand to caress her buttock. I allowed my right hand to slip up just a bit further, until I could feel her pubic hair brush my finger tips.
I took my hands away, and returned to her left foot. I repeated the same sequence with her left leg that I had followed with her right. Slowly, tantalizingly slowly caressing her calf, her knee, her thigh. Stopping when I felt the thigh growing narrow. Allowing my fingertips to play lightly at the crease where thigh met crotch. Letting my fingers brush her short curly hairs once again. Taking my hands away from her.
