Sarahs Story Ch 01 1

I

Judgement day

Sarah sat in the corner of her small cell and shivered both because of the cold and of her nervousness. She knew that it was this morning that she would discover her fate.

But a week ago she had been a fun and care-free 18-year-old, enjoying freedom as she moved in with her lower-middle class older sisters into a flat, flying the nest. Not academically gifted, her half-decent education had still found her some work as a trainee hairdresser in a posh beauty salon frequented by the upper classes, a respectable and decent wage hard to come by for an ungifted girl in Grand City these days. As all these good fortunes happened in the same week, her two sisters took her on a night out. She had had a good time, and had remembered not to drink alcohol, because it was now illegal for women to do so. But someone was spiking their drinks – probably the guy who was buying drinks all night to impress the older sister. The sisters had become legless by the end of the night and Sarah had no recollection of what happened. She had been woken up by policemen lying in the street, outfit torn and tattered, beer bottle in hand, below a statue of the Emperor, now daubed in whitewash and 'WOMEN RISE AGAINST THE EMPEROR' graffitied across it. Without questioning, the police had charged her with sedition, heresy, and intoxication,

Taken to the White Division of Justice Palace, she had been placed in a cell, an alcove in the courthouses foundations with bars across, as the guards laughed at her torn dress.

The next day her sister came to visit, apologising for any responsibility she may have had for Sarah's troubles and bringing a parcel of clothes, promising any legal help the family could afford. Sarah gladly changed out of her dress when she got back to the cell, changing into the plain white underwear, tight blue jeans and olive green tank top her sister had provided, back against the watching guards.

She had had a visitor the next day, and this time it was the promised legal help. The lawyer was a woman in her thirties, with surprisingly casual clothes. She explained that the family could not afford to pay her to appear in court, as they had blown most of their savings on buying the flat, but she would give some advice.

Be nice to the White Division, she had said, as they give the judge a pre-judgement report on her behaviour. A bit of flesh would ensure her a glowing report, she had said. Sarah's skin crawled, but she listened. Her judge would have an interview with her to decide whether she's presumed innocent or guilty, and the lawyer claimed most judges were open to bribes of sexual favours. Again her skin crawled, but she was desperate to get out of this mess.

This advice had also been given to her family and when she arrived at her cell another parcel for her had come through processing. In it was some quality lingerie – lace balconette bra and string panties, with open four-inch strappy heels and make-up. A note said to wear this for the interview and the court appearance to impress the judge. Sarah scoffed in disgust, but the other part of her mind said that the lawyer must know what she was talking about.

She had expected to be granted an interview with her judge the next day. Instead, she was a given a note on official courthouse paper. It was from a Judge Cross, identifying himself as the judge responsible for her case.

Miss White;

You will be tried for charges of sedition, heresy, and illegal intoxication on Thursday 26th May 408 in Female Courtroom 2 at 0930.

I am to inform you that I am the judge assigned to your case.

The prosecution for this case has already been appointed.

It is my obligation to inform you that as you have been charged with sedition and heresy - disloyal crimes - the law demands that you shall be presumed guilty until such a time as your innocence is proven in a court of law. If you do not prove your innocence to me in court you will be found guilty. It is therefore not necessary for you to have a pre-trial interview.

You have two days to prepare your case.

Judge Cross

This brief and impersonal note shocked Sarah. She was presumed guilty!

This would make the trial even more nerve-wracking. Two days to prepare her case! What was she supposed to do from her cell? Not fair, she thought. She wondered why that lawyer had not explained this. At least she did not have that humiliating meeting with the judge with her in lingerie.

Needless to say the trial had not gone well. She made two mistakes at the beginning. First she pleaded not guilty, as the cheap legal advisor had told her. Second, she wore the lingerie, as advised. Nothing but bra, knickers and high heels in a courtroom. Her make-up was frankly sluttish, bright red lips, heavy mascara, and bright eye shadow. She guessed that this did not make a good impression on the suited lawyers in the room, and she felt totally embarrassed, her face blushing red. When she stated that she was going to defend herself there were audible sniggers in the courtroom.

She decided to defend herself by trying to claim she had no recollection of the incident, which was true. The prosecution lawyer did not believe her.

"So you claim to have passed out," he sneered at her when she was in the dock, which unfortunately for her was just a cage which left her no modesty.

"Yes."

"Can you tell us why you passed out?"

"I was drinking and..."

"So you admit to drinking alcohol!"

"No, no! I drank soft drinks all night I swear! I think a man might have spiked my drink."

"A man? Do you know his name?"

"No...."

"Convenient! Do you usually spend nights talking to men whose name you don't know?" Sniggers at that.

And so the trial went on this vein. Whatever Sarah said, she was run in rings by the prosecution and the judge.

Nevertheless, she hoped her passionate belief in her innocence and her humble feminine attire would persuade and seduce the judge. Anyway, her lawyer had said that the worst she could expect was a few years in prison. She wouldn't be the first girl to endure a few months in gaol because of a mistake or even mistaken identity.

She had spent the night preparing herself for the worst, convincing herself that she could cope in prison. And now she was awake on her day of fate. She still believed she could win the case, she had to. She sat in the clothes she had been arrested in – the silly lingerie had been discarded and she had been alternating between these clothes and the sensible tank top and jeans her family had been sent in, as there were no washing facilities. These clothes though only reminded her of that night. Her breakfast lay uneaten on the floor of the cell. She was nervous beyond belief.

A guard rattled the bars of her cell.

"Morning Miss White," he said cheerfully, "big day for you." Sarah merely looked up at him. "You've got a visitor now, then we'll get you ready for court."

Sarah was happy to see her mother at that morning's visitation, though it was not in ideal surroundings. Sarah's mother was clearly upset at seeing her daughter. As per standard security procedures in White Division, Sarah was stood in a cubicle with a thick glass front, dressed in nothing but the official White Division uniform, a tight white one-piece leotard, her arms and legs shackles to the sidewalls, all in the name of security and stopping the smuggling of unapproved items. Her mother, sat at a desk in front of the glass screen and having to speak into a microphone, wished her luck. Sarah was glad that her mother did not make it to court yesterday through nerves, or else both would have been even more humiliated.

After her mother had left, Sarah was subjected to what was supposed to be a pat search. How anyone was supposed to pass something through the thick glass, how Sarah was supposed to hide something in the skin-tight uniform and that the guards were unusually thorough in this aspect of their job didn't appear to be relevant. Still shackled, a guard came behind Sarah and gave her a perfunctory pat search, but then started to grope her under this pretext. After her ass was given a good mauling, her breasts were seen to. Sarah looked straight ahead in resignation as her perky breasts were kneaded by stubby hands. When the guard was satisfied, she was released.

After visitation, a mere 15 minutes, Sarah was led back to her cell and was told to pack all of her belongings into a box provided. These were clearly preparations in case she was found guilty, which made her nerves even more hyperactive. She packed her jeans, tank top, dress from that disastrous Saturday night, underwear, the hated slutty lingerie and shoes into the box. Still in the white costume, she was then led into another room, where a couple of guardsmen were waiting.

"Sarah White, corporal," Sarah's escort announced to the senior waiting guard, and left.

"Ah, good morning Miss White," the corporal said to Sarah. He seemed surprisingly genial. "I'm Corporal Burris. You're scheduled second in Judge Cross's court this morning, after a trial, so you've got about twenty minutes. We've got cosmetics for you to use – Judge Cross takes verdict hearings very seriously so I suggest you are as presentable as possible."

A thought crossed Sarah's mind.

"What do I wear?" she asked.

"That White Division uniform," the corporal said patiently.

"Can't I wear my clothes?"

"It's conventional that those who are presumed guilty or are accused of disloyal crimes have to wear the White uniform," he explained. "The white signifies that you have not been found guilty yet, bare thighs mean you are not totally innocent either; Justice Palace is a stickler for traditions like that." He seemed impressed with his explanation. Sarah just nodded.

Corporal Burris showed her to a side room, which was equipped with a mirror and makeup on a desk. Sarah stood at the desk – there was no chair – while Corporal Burris stood and watched, apparently disinterested.

Sarah tried to apply makeup to her face, but her hands were so shaky from nerves. She contented herself with an application of lipstick, blusher and eye shadow. When she looked in the mirror she was disheartened to find that the colours provided made her look like the dim-witted and over-painted tart she had looked during her trial.

She straightened the ride of the leotard over her bum and announced to Corporal Burris that she was ready. Burris looked up from the papers he had being reading. He unlocked the door and showed her back out.

Back in the main preparation room, Burris suddenly became busy.

"Five minutes left," he said, opening a cupboard. He found what he was looking for.

"Turn around and face the wall," he instructed Sarah, suddenly taking on an impatient air of authority. Sarah did as bidden.

"Put your hands behind your back." Again Sarah did as told. She felt cold metal on her wrists. The handcuffs were tightened. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest her nerves were so high. Burris forcibly turned her back round and sat her down on a stool.

"Okay, I'll just talk you through the procedure in court," he said. "You will be escorted away from here into the courtroom. You will be escorted into the dock, and made to kneel in front of the judge. Your ankles will be locked into cuffs set into the floor roughly shoulder-width apart. If the judge sees any resistance during your appearance, you may find yourself being sentenced to a hundred lashes or a year in prison for contempt of court. Understand?" Sarah nodded, a little overwhelmed.

Just then, a door opened and two smartly dressed guards came in.

"Corporal, Judge Cross is ready for the verdict hearing of Sarah White," one guard said.

"Very well Private Dorsey, she is ready. Please take her."

The two guards came over and grasped Sarah's body by her arms. She stood up readily, but her legs were weak and trembling from her nerves and she stumbled a bit. Nevertheless, the guards continued to propel her forwards.

She was taken into the wood-panelled corridor which led into the court through the thick oak doors at the end. She remembered walking down here, equally nervous, for her trial. She noticed that it was getting colder. She remembered that the big old courtroom wasn't heated.

They reached the end of the corridor. One guard knocked once on the heavy doors. They opened outwards, and a blast of cold air and light hit her. The guards again dragged her forwards.

She was led into the dock, a cage set against the back wall of the courtroom. On either side of the court, there were public galleries of half a dozen rows of seats. People would come and enjoy the drama of a day's court proceedings, which could include up to three trials and numerous verdict and sentencing hearings. Sarah quickly found her mother and sisters in the gallery, and they exchanged loving glances.

She felt pressure in her shoulders and she let the guards push her down to her knees. She felt her ankles being restrained behind her. She looked down at herself, the white leotard revealing the curves of her small lithe body, her bare thighs, and, most embarrassingly, her nipples made erect and prominent under the material by the cold air.

She looked up at the courtroom. She was acutely aware of the interested stares of the dozens of people in the galleries on either side of the court. In the large centre space of the courtroom were two tables – one on Sarah's left for the prosecution and an empty one on her right where her defence should have been, had she had one. The prosecution lawyers were sat at their table, suited and booted and twisting round to have a look at the defendant. They were clearly looking forward to hearing the result of their game of sport. Facing Sarah was the judge's bench. This imposed on the whole court, being twice the height of a man and adorned with the imperial coat of arms. The bench consisted of three chairs, the centre and largest one being vacant at the moment.

Suddenly one of the men sat at the judge's bench stood and cried to the court, "All arise!"

Everyone in the court stood, apart from Sarah who was restrained. This made her feel even more out of place. Judge Cross strode in from the left hand side of the bench, resplendent in judge's robes, and sat in the centre seat, surveying his small empire. Everyone sat. Sarah shivered.

The judge looked at Sarah through the cage piercingly.

"Sarah Louise White," he bellowed, "you have been charged with acts of sedition, heresy and illegal intoxication in Grand City centre on the night of Saturday 21st May. You pleaded not guilty. Correct?"

"Yes your honour," Sarah croaked, hoarse with nerves.

"Sorry?" the judge bellowed from across the other side of the room, unable to hear her.

"Yes your honour," she managed a bit more confidently, so that the court could hear. Her heart was thumping so fast she could hear its beats. Judge Cross shuffled with some papers. This was it.

"Sarah Louise White," he said, "I hereby find you guilty of the mentioned charges."

Sarah's breath caught. She looked up at the judge's bench with pleading looks. The judge continued gravely.

"I therefore sentence you, as just punishment for these unspeakable crimes, to be enslaved."

There was an audible gasp in the room. Sarah looked up, shocked. A tear formed in her eye as she shook her head. She was mouthing no as she silently pleaded with the judge, too stunned to speak.

"This court hereby declares you a sub-human, and strips you of all rights and properties. You have ceased to be a living creature in the eyes of the law and the gods. You will be transported from here and sold as a slave in a public auction in an unspecified part of the Empire. No right of appeal is granted, and your new status is forever permanent."

At this, Sarah's tears turned to sobs.

"Nooo!" she bawled.

"May your punishment be a lesson to all," the judge continued. "Guards," he signalled to the guards in the dock.

Sarah's feet were unlocked and she was dragged upright. She knew the ritual; all new sub-humans were stripped nude before the court before being carted off. The chains binding her wrists were released and guards took a firm grip on her bare arms. Sarah was sobbing relentlessly as the enormity of the judgement hit her. She would spend the rest of her life as a sub-human slave, her owner even having the right to torture and murder her just for fun; and this would be permanent for a lifetime. And now she was to be stripped nude in public before her family.

Forcefully, the guards pulled the straps of the leotard off her shoulders and down off her arms. Two strong guards then held Sarah's arms in the air. A third guard stood behind her and grabbed the sides of the leotard.

"Oh no, please no!" Sarah sobbed, almost incoherently.

The guard pulled down the leotard to Sarah's waist. Her small and humble 34B breasts were revealed to the court. Sarah sobbed again, and turned her face away. There was nothing she could do to stop this; she was totally helpless. Why were the sadistic guards prolonging this humiliation for so long?

She could not stand the utter shame she was experiencing; she wanted to just disappear from the world, make up and find this was a nightmare, that she still did have a life. And what was worse was that her secret shame was to be revealed to a room full of honourable Grand City citizens.

The guard pulled the leotard all the way down. Sarah wailed, not believing this was happening to her.

"No no, no, no, no!" she wept softly.

Her lithe body, her sex, was revealed to the court. There were a few titters from the crowd. Sarah hid her eyes behind her upheld arm in abject shame. Her cunt was totally hairless, and now her secret was revealed. She had never been able to grow hair down there, an unusual problem, and her first boyfriend had recoiled from having sex when he saw her cunt, presuming she was either a slut or a slave. Since then she had hidden it, and this also meant she had never had sex, a fact that she hoped wasn't going to be found out.

Her arms were bought down behind her back and cuffed with a tie wrap. She was held there by the guards. Through teary eyes, Sarah saw the judge looking stern. She looked to her right, and her stomach turned as she saw her mother and two sisters sat there, weeping uncontrollably. Again the reality of the situation hit her, and she felt even more ashamed. She was yanked away from her reverie by the guards and she stumbled along after them, looking one last time at her mother.

Mrs White sat in the gallery, and wept as her naked and sluttish daughter was hauled out of a busy courtroom to spend her life as a slave.