Banished

Banished

This is my entry to the 2018 Nude Day Contest. Please vote with your stars awarded at the end of the story. I hope you like it.

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I was in trouble and I knew it. I had dumped my first serious boyfriend Byron after he cheated on me, and he then posted salacious pictures of me on the Internet in various stages of undress, including one of me totally nude. I had not minded, since this had happened to lots of girls. Since I had posed for the pictures, they were somewhat tasteful, if a full-frontal picture could ever be considered 'tasteful.' I had a good body and the pictures improved my love life since the pictures led to lots of men wanting to date me. I had my pick of the lot.

Some of the pictures were a bit creative in fact. My (ex!) boyfriend Byron had me pose in nice clothes, such as my bridesmaid outfit for my sister's wedding, and then he would have me pose half nude in the same clothes, "so my friends can see what's under the clothes and what I'm getting and they're not." The poses were exactly the same; one with the clothes, one with my bra. Under some pressure, we took a third without even the bra. His friend was taking the pictures.

I knew he would show the pictures to all of his friends; that was the point, after all, but I did not mind, since it was only my boobs, and I was proud of my boobs. Truth be told, I'm kind of kinky and I liked the idea of tormenting his friends with pictures of my bare boobs.

Good ideas however tend to escalate to the point of being bad ideas. He had me pose with the clothes at my ankles, in only my bra and panties. He then wanted me nude with the same pose. When the photographer (Byron's friend David) almost began to drool at the prospect of seeing and photographing me nude, I caved. When all his friends saw the pictures of me nude, I was horrified.

After I dumped my asshole boyfriend, I sowed some wild oats, as one might say, with a succession of men. I ended up happily with serious boyfriend number two, and we were considering marriage, when the regime changed. The MF, the Morality Force, had come to power. Everyone I knew called them the "Mother Fuckers" instead of the Morality Force. One of their many sexual obsessions was to hunt down all of us women who had had our bodies exposed on the Internet. Oops.

It did not matter if a jilted lover had done it to us in some cases, including mine. Such fine details were not relevant to the MF. After all, as they argued in court at my trial, I had willingly posed nude for some of the pictures. My defense that I had done that for my boyfriend and for his eyes only went nowhere. "He had you yourself to look at in the flesh. Why did he need pictures?" The prosecution had argued.

The pictures were passed around to the jury. They used 8x10 glossy prints. This was not just to humiliate and embarrass me which they certainly did in spades, but also I suspect to arouse the men on the jury, although the men of course could never admit it. Indeed, they had to look as shocked and disdainful as the prissy women on the jury. Acting ability was important if one were to survive under the reign of the MF.

The prosecution forced me to strip naked and parade in front of the jury. I could not even wear panties. "Look at her!" the prosecutor said triumphantly. "Have you ever seen a sexier, more desirable woman? Why would any sane man prefer pictures to having a woman like her in front of him, one that he could reach out and touch?" and as he said that, as if to illustrate his point, he himself reached out and touched me. He tweaked my left nipple as I stood there nude in open court, blushing furiously. I palpably shivered at his touch.

At times I wished I had caved and had agreed to give the prosecutor all the sex that he wanted. I remember my conversation with him, in the presence of my attorney.

"It's an open and shut case against you Ms. Simmons. You don't have a chance and will be banished," the prosecutor had said.

"Isn't there something you can do?" my attorney asked the prosecutor on my behalf. He had explained to me it was a good sign that the prosecutor had wanted to meet with us.

"Well, I've seen the pictures and the videos," the prosecutor said. "Is your body really as good as it is portrayed in the pictures, Ms. Simmons?"

"I beg your pardon?" I asked the prosecutor.

"What my client is trying to say is that it is not for her to judge. Only an expert such as yourself could make such a judgement," my attorney said.

"So too could you," the prosecutor said to my attorney.

"I have not seen her body naked," my attorney said. He had warned me of this, but his warning had been sufficiently elliptical that I understood it only just then.

"Will it help my case if you were to see my body? I do not want to be banished," I said.

"It might, depending," the prosecutor said.

"Depending on what?" I asked.

My attorney jumped in, "Please excuse my client. She's just scared. She'll be happy to show you her body," he said.

I will? I silently thought. My attorney looked at me meaningfully. I could not believe I had to strip naked for the prosecutor in order to help my situation. My position was stark, however. Banishment would mean death. It would mean a horrible death. Well, I thought, he had already seen all the pictures and videos, now hadn't he? I had no modesty left, so if it could help my case, why not?

I turned around, presenting my back to both men. I undressed to my bra and panties and stopped.

"Continue," the prosecutor said.

I removed my bra and stepped out of my panties. I was now stark naked in front of the two men. At their command, I turned around to face them.

"Excellent," said the prosecutor. He looked at me intensely and asked me to turn around slowly. I did. Finally satisfied, he said, "You may go now."

We left and I asked my attorney what was going on. He answered as I dressed. "The prosecutor likes you and he wants to have sex with you. He may not banish you if you give him good sex."

"What??"

"It's the only way to avoid banishment," my lawyer said.

I thought about this. I felt sick to my stomach. To receive a choice between sex with a creepy man extorting it and a horrible death by banishment was not much of a choice. . "Would he keep his word?" I asked.

"He always has until now. The women who put out for him are in prison but not banished. The women who refuse him are banished and men in sports bars watch their deaths on MFTV. The choice is yours," my attorney said.

"What do you advise?" I asked.

"Give him all the sex he wants. Pretend to enjoy it."

"If I refuse will you still defend me?" I asked.

"Yes, but I have to warn you. Your case is a lost cause," he said.

"That's a pretty stark choice," I said.

"It's a big decision. Think about it for a few minutes before we go back in. Take off your clothes before we reenter. Maybe you can compromise," my attorney said.

"Compromise?" I asked.

My attorney nodded. "He also likes to watch."

"Watch what?" I asked.

My attorney did not answer. I guess he figured I'd figure it out. We went back in. I was wearing my panties and nothing else.

"What have you decided?" the prosecutor asked.

"About what?" I asked.

"Are you putting something on the table?" the prosecutor asked.

My attorney looked at me, raising his eyebrows. This was my moment of truth. Would I fuck my way out of a death sentence?

"I'm putting my body on the table." As if to emphasize the fact I climbed up and stood on the table. The prosecutor was tall, I am short, and my naked boobs were at eye level for him. "I can offer you a blowjob if you do not prosecute me and let me go free," I said.

The prosecutor chuckled at my proposal. "I get all of you, or no deals," he said.

"All of me?" I was confused.

My attorney whispered to me, "He wants to fuck you Ashley. Repeatedly," he said.

I couldn't do that. I just couldn't. I broke down, crying. How had my life come to this?

"How about a blowjob with me naked?" I asked.

"It can't hurt, but it won't help you much. I need to fuck you if you really want me to help you," the asshole said. I thought it an ironic turn of phrase since he was already fucking with me now, wasn't he?

I gave the prosecutor a blowjob but when he then threw me down and tried to fuck me, I did not let him. He was big enough and strong enough to take me by force and to rape me, but I guess he felt he could not do that because my lawyer was right there, observing everything. I could tell he wanted to.

After I had become naked, given the prosecutor a nice blowjob, and almost been raped, my attorney too wanted sex. I could not believe this! He was on my side, at least in theory. He pointed out that he had taken my case pro bono since I could not afford to pay him.

"Are you changing pro bono to its English translation of pro boner?" I sarcastically asked.

"Very funny," he said. The prosecutor watched as my very own attorney extracted sex from me. I got on all fours. I was wet due to the blowjob I had given the prosecutor. Blowjobs always make me wet. My attorney removed his pants and plunged into me forcefully, almost knocking me onto my stomach.

The prosecutor presented his cock to my mouth while my attorney fucked me and I gave up and gave the asshole a second blowjob. The men tried to change places, and I slowly understood my attorney's strategy. He would get me so aroused that I might agree to fuck the prosecutor this way and it might save my life. I blew it by standing up and not letting the prosecutor enter my engorged, wet, and inviting pussy. The asshole flew into a rage, but I was steadfast.

It was galling for him to see me fucking my attorney right in front of him and yet refusing to let him fuck me. I'm sure he was thinking what kind of slut was that bitch?

I did not take the deal of the prosecutor, and now he was out to get me, and to get me in spades. He was twenty years older than I was, and he had a big beer belly, and he smelled a little. I'd like to say I refused sex on principle, and that's partly true, but in reality, he just grossed me out. I wondered, as I stood there nude in front of the jury, what would have happened had I indeed let the prosecutor fuck me? Life is full of unanswered questions, I guess.

The MF was a scary regime. They organized huge rallies, and people turned out in massive numbers, giving up their individuality to the mob, along with their own sense of morality about what was right and wrong. The leader of the MF, a man with the banal name of John Smith, had tremendous charisma. His speeches would leave the mobs spellbound. I found the whole scene frightening.

The MF had its own police force, called appropriately enough the MF Police, and known by its acronym MFP. Everyone I knew called them the obvious name: The Mother Fucking Pricks. Some people who did not like the word 'prick' called them the Mother Fucking Pigs. I personally was happy with either slur.

Before the trial I recounted above, when it became clear women like me were being hunted down and banished, I went into hiding and the MFP could not find me. There were so many women to look for anyway, that if someone was good at hiding, she had a decent chance of escape. An old friend who had been helping to hide me wanted sex in exchange for his services. Scared, I gave him blowjobs to keep him happy. He got at least two every day.

Following his request, I gave him the blowjobs, and later I even gave him the blowjobs while I was naked. He had me masturbate naked in front of him, too. He wanted more eventually and when I refused to fuck him, he denounced me. I should have given him all the sex he wanted and let him fuck my brains out, because now I was in jail, waiting to stand trial. I just don't learn.

The trial did not go well. The MFP raided the home of my jilted boyfriend, and they found pictures of the two of us fucking. Worse still, there was a video of me being bound and tied and two different men fucking me, one after the other. That, together with his infidelity with my best friend, was why I had dumped the boyfriend. He had pressured me into trying bondage, and then he had betrayed me by letting one of his friends ravish me without my permission.

The irony is that if he had asked me, I might have given my permission. His friend was a hunk and quite frankly, I like sex. I like all kinds of sex. That's not the point, though. The point is that it was that video alone that sealed my fate.

It gets worse. Unfortunately, the friend of my boyfriend who ravished me when I was bound and "given" to him by my boyfriend, ignored my protests and refusal. Once he began to rape me, my body betrayed me and against my will I had a rather spectacular climax. The idea of being bound, helpless, and raped is somehow a turn on for a girl like me. I am messed up, sure, but before the MF came to power being sexually messed up was not a crime. Now it was.

The judges got to view the video and its consequent humiliation of me in open court. I knew at that moment I was sunk. My defense attorney was good, but nobody could save me at that point. I also knew the punishment was banishment, and that's what I received. Since I was guilty of several sex crimes (indecent exposure, public copulation [even it was only pictures and videos] and group sex) I was to be banished naked.

My jilted boyfriend who had made the pictures and videos, and who had posted them in revenge for being dumped, was also arrested and convicted. He too was to be banished naked. Despite the temptation to think 'it serves him right,' somehow that did not make me feel any better. I had kind of loved the man, and now he too was to perish. Banishment was a death sentence.

For the lucky ones, death came in minutes. For the less lucky it took hours. The worst was death due to thirst and starvation, which meant gradually being killed by thirst with vultures pecking at you. Rumors flew that they went for the eyes first.

More precisely what banishment meant was that I was driven out of the walls of the regime and dumped somewhere. I would be tied and bound, stark naked, lost in the Magical Kingdom. This was a death sentence and after being dumped my life expectancy, on average, would be three hours. My most likely death would come from hungry animals, especially the man-eating lions. Hyenas would feast on what remained of my carcass once the lions were through with me. Then the vultures would swoop in.

There was one way to be saved, if you could call it that. If a centaur found you before the carnivores did, he would rape you. If he liked the results, he might carry you off and rape you repeatedly until you gave birth to his son. Almost all women died in childbirth but the baby centaurs typically were healthy. The few women who survived became wet nurses for motherless baby centaurs. The lions never messed with the centaurs. Nobody messed with the centaurs.

If you were a man, like my former boyfriend Byron, your only hope was to be raped by a gay centaur. This was a slim hope because there were not many gay centaurs. Sometimes a gay centaur would carry off the man for lots more sodomy, but typically the centaur would tear up the anal passage with his huge cock and the man would die of blood loss or infection.

Banishment was a cruel death sentence to say the least.

As I contemplated my imminent death, I thought back about my life. I thought about my childhood and my parents and also my brother. I thought about my first lover, Troy Michaels. I had given my virginity to Troy and I had loved him so very much. Hell, I still loved him. I'll never stop loving that man. I suspect he still loves me, too. We had simply met too young and we were both immature and wanted to explore this new world of sexuality we had discovered together.

Troy got jealous of my affairs, even though I assured him they were meaningless. I was simply fascinated with having sex and wanted to explore this new and wondrous world of eros. I found that each and every man was different with his own unique style. The affairs were as meaningless to me as trying out different restaurants. Troy did not understand my reasoning. He wanted his woman to be faithful to him. I understood; it was a traditional and natural want. I decided to be faithful to Troy but it was too late.

After we fought I discovered he too had been sampling the charms of plenty of other women. I became jealous of his affairs after the fact, and angry that he could have had such a ridiculous double standard. I knew that was the traditional way of society. Men could philander about but women could not. I did not like it and I confess I screamed at him in anger and threw some of his porcelain plates across the room, shattering them.

This was the death blow to our relationship. We broke up of course but I always hoped Troy would return to me and we could start again. Almost every time there was an unexpected knock at my door I had secretly hoped it was Troy returning to me. I would have welcomed him with open arms and open legs. It never was Troy, though. He never returned to me and that was the biggest disappointment of my all too brief life. I ran out of time for Troy to return, for now I was to be banished and almost certainly to die a quick yet horrible death.

My punishment and doom was to be well documented since the MFP installs cameras to capture the rapes and/or the deaths of the banished. These were then shown on national TV. I myself had never watched one of these gruesome scenes, finding the whole process beyond disgusting, but I knew the mob watched them with glee. It combined a certain sadistic, misogynist sexual pleasure with out-and-out gruesome and graphic lust.

More and more people were being banished, and there were a few shows of bloody, horrible deaths on TV every week. Especially popular for some reason were the videos of the centaurs raping women, especially women in their twenties, such as yours truly. Men got off on ogling their typically sexy naked bodies and watching them get brutally raped. Some women did too, or so the media said. I myself had trouble believing that. The media lies because the MF forces it to lie.

People would congregate in 'sports bars' to watch the rape. There was heavy betting on whether or not the centaur would carry off the woman after the rape, kill her with his hooves (usually by crushing her head) after the rape, or abandon her to the mercy of the lions who would congregate and wait their turn once they heard the woman's screams. The women always, always screamed.

My destiny was to be tied up naked, seriously bound, and the MFP would move around me installing floating cameras to capture my nudity and exposure in order to titillate the men watching safely in bars. Later the men would watch my rape or death or both. My fame would come in the videos of the sports bars. If they were true to form the sports bars would first run the sex videos my boyfriend had made, again for the titillation of the men in the bar. These sorts of videos were allowed to be shown only in sports bars, and only once the woman's banishment had begun.

In a plethora of sports bars televising my nude body and the sex tapes, they would follow with live video of my subsequent rape, or my subsequent death by carnivore. How charming, I thought.

I remembered fondly the days when I was horrified to see pictures of my naked body on line due to the revenge desires of my former boyfriend. Such horror now seemed quaint. Maybe I had dumped him a little too harshly? I don't know.

My timing was poor. He took me to his sister's wedding and I chose a few hours before the wedding to let him know we were through. We then had to smile and pretend we were still in love throughout the wedding. That was painfully hard to do.