Felicities Downfall

Authors Note:

This story is set in the same World as "Karen's Slavery" and "Lara's Punishment", but a bit before the end of "Karen's Slavery" (which I have not yet published). In that world, prison as a punishment is being phased out, replaced by escalating fines, various severities of corporal punishment, three levels of Slavery or finally execution, usually by public hanging. The goal was to not only save the enormous expense of prison but also to cut down on the percentage of re-offenders by making their painful, humiliating punishments public. Obviously, this approach is not something we should consider for our world, since what we are currently doing is working so well.

Chapter 1

"Yes", Felicity cried, giving a fist pump into the air of her condo's office. It was 1:00 AM and a deposit of nearly $300,000 had just hit her local bank account. The ransom had been paid by the 5:00 PM deadline the previous day, but it had taken this long for the money to make its way through the various anonymous accounts on three continents she had set up to make sure it couldn't be traced.

Smiling to herself, she executed the routine she had already set up to de-encrypt the target's computer files. At nineteen, her goal was to be a multimillionaire by the time she was twenty-one. After similar scams over the past four years, she was well on her way.

Felicity had grown up poor, not dirt poor, just poor. She never went hungry, but her clothes were not the stylish clothes of the cool girls in her high school and she never had a car like most of the others. Add to that, she was a late bloomer and a nerd; high school was not a good time for her. After high school, things and Felicity had both started to change. Now at nineteen, she had finally filled out, with a trim figure, a set of pert 34B breasts and a nice round ass. She was also working to fix the whole poor thing too.

Her senior year, she had begun using her budding computer talents to extort money from some of her well-off classmates, by taking compromising videos through their bedroom computer webcams they stupidly let her remotely compromise, encrypting their schoolwork files just before assignments were due or in some cases compromising their Facebook pages until a ransom was paid.

At first the ransoms were small, paid in cash and left at dead drops, with the understanding that if anything happened when the money was collected, bad things would automatically happen to the payer. As she got more sophisticated and the ransom amounts got larger, she began setting up anonymous bank accounts overseas, relying on information she gathered on the Dark Web.

After high school, she did not go to college, but rather furthered her education in hacking herself via research on the Dark Web and joining a couple of selective hacker forums there instead. Last year, she had begun targeting smaller cities in her state, encrypting their computer files and demanding ransoms to release them. The last target had been her fourth and biggest score. In all, she had collected nearly $700,000 in less than two years. Satisfied with herself, she went to bed, visions of wealth dancing in her dreams.

"OK, the decryption command is coming in. Is the backward trace working?" Paul Taylor was asked. Paul was 28 and had been working for the FBI for the past two years. Paul had a BS in Computer Science from MITand an MS and PhD from Caltech. He should have been making big money working for one of the dot com companies, but instead he was paid a small salary and worked long, hard hours, but that beat being a slave, which was the only alternative he was given after his hacking empire was busted by the FBI. At least they gave him a bonus of 1% of whatever they recovered from a crime like this one.

"Yes, of course. Pandemonium is good," he said, referring to the hacker's handle, "but he's not as good as I am. I should have a physical location and probably an ID in a couple of more minutes." He paused, typing rapidly as he ran the back trace, determined the computer's physical location and then cross-referenced that to determine who the hacker was in real life. "Well, well," he said after a few minutes as the printer started up. "It looks like he is actually a she." He handed the page to the FBI agent. "I assume the search warrants have already been signed? If so, all you need to do is add this name and address and your SWAT team is in business."

At 5:00 AM there was a crash at the front door of Felicity's condo. She sat up groggily and then realizing the situation, sprang out of bed and dashed to her computer, desperate to start the worm erasing all her hard drives. She was not fast enough and was grabbed by a helmeted SWAT officer with her hands still a foot from her keyboard. "Now, now, we can't have that. Felicity Johnson, you are under arrest for extortion." He went on reading her rights, but Felicity was not listening anymore, shut down in denial that this could be happening to her.

It was two months later Felicity and her attorney sat in the courtroom as the jury filed back in. They had only been out an hour, so it did not look good. "All rise," the Bailiff ordered. Felicity stood up, shaking.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury have you reached a verdict?" the Judge asked.

"We have, Your Honor," the Foreman replied. "We find the defendant guilty of four counts of Felony Extortion by Computer and one count of Felony Tax Evasion."

"This is bad," Felicity thought, gasping. "Five felony counts mean either Level Two or even Level Three Slavery depending on the Judge."

"So say you all," the Judge inquired. At their 'Ayes", he continued. "Court will recess for one hour before sentence is passed."

Rather than being returned to her holding cell, Felicity and her attorney were taken to the Judge's chambers. The Judge was there, along with another man. "I assume you know what the sentence would normally be?" the Judge asked.

Unable to speak through her tightened throat, her attorney answered for her. "Yes, Your Honor, but,"

The Judge cut him off. "Unless your client cooperates with this man, I plan to throw the book at your client: Level Three Slavery for Life."

The other man spoke then. "My name is John Samuelsson and I head up the FBI Computer Crimes Division for this region," the man introduced himself. He continued, "She still has to be punished, severely, Level 4 Punishment as a public deterrent, but if she agrees to work with the FBI foiling other hackers, we can avoid the whole formal slavery sentence, although she works for us as long as we say, does whatever we say, with only moderate pay. Otherwise,..." he left the rest unsaid.

"I need to confer with my client," the attorney answered.

""Please do, you have five minutes."

""Court is now in session," the Bailiff intoned as everyone filed back into the courtroom.

The Judge took his seat. "Defendant will rise." Felicity and her attorney stood up. "After consultation with the State and Defendant's counsel, the Defendant is sentenced to Corporal Punishment Level 4, final stage to be forty minutes. Subsequent to that, Defendant will then work for the FBI Computer Crimes Division until such time as her services shall no longer be required. Should the State not be satisfied with her efforts, the sentence shall then be modified to Lifetime Slavery, Level 3. Court is adjourned."

Felicity was led back to her holding cell. The following morning, she was escorted by a guard to meet the Punishment Scheduler. She entered his small office, and at a gesture from the Scheduler, the guard un-cuffed her hands, directed her to a chair in front of the desk and went out, shutting the door and bolting it from the other side. The Scheduler spent a couple of minutes looking over her file and then regarded her for a moment.

"The FBI has asked me to expedite your punishment sessions as much as possible. Normally you would be branded next week in the monthly spectacle at the end of each month. You would then wait a month to give the brand time to heal, and then be flogged at the next month's punishment event. Finally the third month you would undergo the final Level 4 Punishment, which, believe me, is as serious as it gets short of Lifetime Slavery. Accordingly, I am scheduling you to attend an enslavement event that is being held in three days instead for your flogging; there are only a few prisoners scheduled for that so far, so the authorities would be happy to have another prisoner to improve the spectacle. The bad news is the number of strokes there is raised by ten, since the flat flogging belt they use is less severe than the normal cat. After all, they don't want to really damage slaves they will be selling and if they used the cat there would be always some blood and maybe even scaring that might lower the price.

You will then have your branding at the normal event next week at the month-end event. You'll probably still have welts from the flogging, but that won't interfere with your branding. However, you'll still have to wait until next month's event for your final punishment, but that gets you out of here in less than six weeks. Any questions?"

Felicity hesitated; she decided not to ask about the branding, since awful as it seemed, it was pretty straightforward. The rest worried her. "How many strokes will I be getting?"

"As a Level 4 Punishment Prisoner, you would normally get forty, but with the ten added for using the strap, a total of fifty."

Felicity blanched. In a trembling voice, she continued, "And for the final Punishment?"

He frowned and consulted his computer screen, "They are revising that punishment, but I see the new punishment regime is not fully tested yet. For you, it will be the current punishment, Public Anal Impalement for forty minutes. It has to be anal since we can't have different punishments for men and women."

"Anal Impalement?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, they slowly lower you onto a really big dildo and continue that for the allotted time. I'm told that, in addition to the utter humiliation of hundreds of people watching your naked ass get stretched, it's also extremely painful. Not only that, there are cameras underneath to show the crowd the whole thing on wide screens above the punishment station."

"Shit," Felicity said in disbelief.

"Oh, no, they'll give you enemas before your punishment, so there won't be any of that," he snarked. He pushed a button and the guard reappeared. "Cuff her and take her back."

Chapter 2

The first two sessions were fully as bad as Felicity was afraid of. She had never dated and so no one, other than her parents when she was young, had ever seen her naked. Now lots of people had, from the guards in the preparation areas, to the Executioners on the punishment platforms to the hundreds of people in the crowds come to watch the naked entertainment.

Added to that, was the incredible agony of fifty strokes of a thick wide belt to all areas of her body, but focused on her ass, tits and vagina. The welts were barely fading when she was deeply branded on her bare butt check, while she shrieked and hundreds of people clapped and cheered.

Now it was the night before the final, and what everyone told her was her worst, punishment. It was hard to sleep; she was hungry because they gave her no dinner other than water, and tense, worried about when the laxatives they had forced her to take would take hold. Around 4:00 AM she finally felt the laxatives working; over the next two hours, she used the toilet three times. At 6:00 AM a guard opened her cell, cuffed her and pushed her down a corridor into a prep area. As well as the disrobing bench she was used to at this point, there was also a GYN table and a toilet next to a stand with a large enema bag hanging from it. A male punishment technician entered the room and unfastened her handcuffs. The prep technician ordered her, "Strip and use the enema. And yes, I am going to watch you to make sure you use the entire bag. There will also be a second one after that. I would also advise you to empty your bladder as completely as you can. You don't want to piss yourself while you're being impaled."

Humiliated, Lara stripped off her robe but stalled on the enema, and the technician finally got angry and ordered the guard to bend her over the disrobing bench and grab her hands from the other side. He spread her cheeks and inserted the nozzle deep in her rectum. Opening the valve and pushing on the bag, he squirted the gallon bag into her bowels, then stopped the flow, pulled the nozzle out and ordered her to use the toilet. Lara was so full she thought she would burst and had to tightly clench her asshole to keep the water in as she made her way to the toilet.

This was her first observed bowel movement since she was a child, and she blushed a humiliated red as the last brown remnants of yesterday's waste splashed into the toilet water. She also urinated as much as she could. After flushing the toilet, the procedure was repeated, using a refilled bag to make sure she was completely cleaned out. Next the technician had her lie back on what looked like a GYN table, with her feet in stirrups. The guard cuffed her arms over her head to a ring on the far end and put a strap across her chest to hold her in place. The technician forced a lubricated finger up her ass followed by a thick sensor rod. "This measures the depth of your bowel to the first turn so we can use the longest instrument possible but still not puncture it." Twelve inches," the technician noted as the rod hit the end of her colon at its first turn, while Felicity could do nothing but groan. Next he forced a speculum with a dial on it up her ass. "God damn she's tight," he said as he forced the collapsed instrument into her asshole. "Oh, well, we'll fix that in a couple of hours. He began expanding the instrument, unmoved by Felicity's whimpers of pain. "That's max pressure; note down the reading from the dial," he continued. "That one measured the strain of forcing your ass open. We know approximately how much strain the tissue can take before tearing. Of course there's no guarantee since each body is different." They released her from the table.

Next she was ordered to bend over the side of the table and grasp the far side. The technician spread her left ass cheek and then something wet was applied to the inside of her cheek, right where it begins to curve down into the crack of her ass. The technician picked up a narrow leather strip, maybe two inches long with a stainless steel ring in the center and firmly pressed it into the wet area. He held it for a moment and then repeated the action on her right cheek. "The super glue will hold those on, no problem," he commented. Finally he had her turn sideways and, using a tape measure, measured the distance from the rings to the inner lips of her vagina. He did not explain what this all would be used for. Finished with her prep, Lara's hands were cuffed again to an overhead rail until they were ready for her.

"All right, let's go", the prep technician said a few minutes later as his buzzer went off, "Time to get this over with." Lara was un-cuffed, allowed to slip into her robe, re-cuffed and then led down a dark hallway out to a waiting van. She was forced to step into the windowless back and join the other prisoners already there. One hand was un-cuffed and the joining chain looped over an overhead bar then the hand was re-cuffed. Everyone was obviously terrified, so no one spoke.

The van pulled out for about a thirty-minute trip to the main city park where the event would be held. After a while, the van stopped. Felicity's heart was beating so fast and so hard, she could feel it in her throat. The van doors opened, and the prisoners were led next to a raised platform and over to a long raised bar balanced on two sets of legs, rather like a swing set without swings. There were short chains hanging down, and as each person's name was called, they were moved over and their handcuffs attached to the chains over their heads. As she now knew was usual, there were more women than men. She supposed that was because men were more likely to be considered dangerous by the courts and therefore more likely to be executed or sentenced to slavery. Ominously, Felicity was last.

One by one, each person was led up to the platform, forced to drop their robes, stand naked while their crime and sentence was read out and then their individual punishment was inflicted. The first ones were not too bad, just brandings accompanied by the usual shrieks from the victim and cheering from the crowd, but as time went on, the punishments got worse and longer, occasional screams making Felicity jump as prisoners were flogged. She noted that the flogged prisoners were generally oozing blood, especially from tender areas like breasts and crotches as they were led back and re-shackled. Obviously the cats they were using really were a lot worse than the strap they had used on her.

Finally, it was her turn. Felicity was led up to the platform and ordered to drop her robe. That at least, she was used to. As the Scheduler had mentioned, she noticed that there were three huge flat screens elevated over the back of the platform. The Executioner read out her crimes and her sentence, and then consulted a computer tablet, noting her readings from the preparation this morning. He selected and withdrew a huge phallic-shaped dildo from a wide selection in his cabinet, screwing it onto an upright post standing out on the front of the platform. It was around twelve inches long and started with a slender rounded tip but rapidly expanded to almost three inches in diameter. Felicity looked at it in disbelief, while her hand cuffs were replaced with padded leather cuffs connected by a short chain with a ring in the center.

Next the Executioner ordered her to sit on a metal table they had just wheeled into place. A harness was slipped over her head, almost a yoke, with rigid protrusions sticking out from each shoulder and a flat rigid bar down her spine. A strap was centered across her flat stomach, and another just below her breasts holding it in place, attached to the rigid bar behind her. Then her manacled hands were forced over her head and secured to a chain dangling from a movable arm high above her, the same arm that had been used to hoist prisoners up for flogging. A leather shackle was fastened around her right ankle, secured, and then her right leg was pushed forcefully up, making her groan with the stretching, to the extended collar off her shoulder and secured there. This action was repeated with her left ankle. Felicity felt herself blushing from her face to her chest as she listened to the cheers and comments from the crowd, realizing just how lewdly her vagina and asshole were now being displayed to the crowd.

"Wow, that little asshole really looks tight. I bet it won't be in a few more minutes though," one man yelled.

Next she was forced to awkwardly lie back on the table and two bungee cords were attached to the rings of the strips glued to her ass cheeks, and routed around to her front where alligator clips were fastened to her inner vaginal lips. Felicity screamed as the jerk of the released elastic cords spread not just her ass open, but her vagina as well. Pulling harshly on her delicate inner lips, the teeth of the alligator clips bit in painfully with the strain on the cords. Finally the slack in the chain attached to her manacled hands was taken up, and a groaning, whimpering Felicity found herself lifted from the table, doubled up, ass pointed down, suspended in mid-air. The arm swung her out, centering her over the wicked phallus, and then she began to descend.

The executioner carefully positioned Felicity's asshole over the tip of the phallus and then stepped back and activated his control to begin lowering her. The first inch or so was lubed to make the initial insertion go easier and Felicity gasped as the rounded tip nuzzled into her asshole, forcing itself past her sphincter. "Prisoner is sentenced to forty minutes of impalement; start the timer now," the executioner ordered.