Message-ID: <20612eli$9903170431@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: MichaelD38@aol.com Subject: RP: {MichaelD} "The Subtleties of Justice" (nc, bd, viol, caution) (4/4) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: ************************************************* The Subtleties of Justice Copyright 1998 by MichaelD38@aol.com Free redistribution permitted; no commericial use without authorization. ************************************************* IX. Weasel awoke to the taste of piss. She jerked her head up, seeing that the tube leading to her mouth was full. Needle's piss began flowing into her. This was the third go-round tonight, and the taste was even stronger and fouler than it had already been. The piss in the tube looked almost orange, concentrated as it had to be. She looked up at Needle, who was asleep, head hanging down. The tube leading to her facemask was about half full. The piss came into Weasel's mouth in spurts, as Needle's bladder forced it out of her. She gulped it down, having no other way to get it out her mouth. The rank odor rose into her nostrils, and she sniffed, trying to force it back. How long had she been asleep? Her shoulders throbbed in pain from supporting her body. She tried to stand up and work some of the stiffness out of them. She looked around her, at her restraints. They were magnets, apparently. Small metal blocks--identical to those on her wristbands-- hung from the ends of the chains. She pulled slowly, twisting at them. How strong could they be? Twisting at the magnets did nothing. The chain just turned with her, and she couldn't get any leverage. She jerked once, twice, feeling no give at all. "That's one demerit," an unseen voice said. "Stop fooling with your restraints. There's no way you can get loose. The tensile strength of the magnetic bond is much higher than anything you can generate." Weasel glanced around, wanting to curse at the voice, but unable to due to the tube in her mouth. She tried one last, futile jerk against her chains. Another squirt of piss flowed into her mouth, and Weasel tried to force it back. It flowed down the tube, but squirted back as soon as she relaxed her mouth. She finally steeled herself and swallowed it. She was getting very thirsty, despite the free-flowing piss. The salt in the fluid only made it worse. Weasel heard the thrumming of machinery, and looked over to see three black-suited figures entering the room. One of them was the Commander. Dear God, Weasel thought. Please take me down from here. One of the guards came over and disconnected Weasel and Needle, holding up the tubes to make sure the last of the piss flowed into their mouths. Weasel gulped it down, praying that they would finally give her something normal to eat and drink. She hadn't eaten since lunch the day before, and she was starting to feel weak. "Good morning, ladies," the Commander said. "I trust you had a pleasant evening. Wendy, I am disappointed to hear that you have already earned a demerit for today. You are just not getting into the swing of things here." The guards swung the two girls forward, letting them hang from the X-shaped racks. They pushed them across the room, then swung them around so that their feet were touching the wall. "It's bright and early today, and that means you get to move your bowels. Hitch them up, Sergeant.' Weasel felt the guard moving around behind her, and then felt him plugging something into the tube in her rectum. A few seconds later, water began flowing into her. She was already full, having not been able to shit since the previous morning, and her abdomen was soon cramping. The water flowed in, filling her rectum, then forcing its way up into her colon. She felt herself swelling as her colon filled with water, and nausea swept over her. Then it stopped, and the guard unhooked the hose. Some unseen valve in the rectal tube closed off, holding the water in no matter how hard she strained and forced herself. Weasel saw the guard pushing Needle out toward the middle of the room, then positioning her in front of Weasel. The Commander approached, holding a length of thick plastic tubing. "It's time for your breakfast. You have clearly not yet understood the proper mindset for existing in SHU, so I am going to conduct a little experiment." As Weasel watched in horror, not believing he could really be doing this, he attached the tubing to the nozzle in Needle's ass, then reached out to attach it to Weasel's facemask. Weasel went berserk, thrashing against her restraints, trying anything to keep him from completing the connection. The two guards grabbed her from both sides, trying to hold her still. "That's one demerit." He grabbed Weasel's head but she shook it, trying to get free. "That's two. Knock it off" He got a stronger grip on Weasel's chin, and attached the tubing. She squealed, starting to cry, trying to shake the tube loose. "You're up to three, and this is pointless. You are not in a position to resist me." He reached for the tube in Needle's ass, and depressed a lever. The filthy water in Needle's rectum, thick with chunks of shit, immediately blasted down the tube in into Weasel's mouth. She coughed, trying to stop it, trying to block the mouthpiece with her tongue, but it squirted in anyway. She was fighting the spasming muscles of Needle's digestive tract, and it was clearly a losing battle. The taste and aroma was fouler than anything she had ever conceived of, far worse than the piss. Her stomach heaved, and piss squirted out of her nose. She choked on it, thrashing uselessly. "Swallow it. It's all the food you will be getting today." Weasel vomited again, this time sending the foul brew back up the tube, but it came right back. "That's four demerits. Five for today. You've almost earned yourself another week in here, and it's not even eight-thirty yet." He reached out and closed off Weasel's nose, preventing her from breathing. She shook her head but was unable to get loose. Her lungs began to burn, and she realized she was on the verge of drowning, drowning on Needle's shit. Left with the choice of drowning or complying, Weasel gave in. She forced herself to swallow, trying to ignore the horrid taste, the loose chunks of shit flowing over her tongue. "That's better. Drink it up. It's not as bad as you think. Human feces actually has some nutritional value, especially down here. Your body normally passes what it doesn't need, and what we feed you in SHU is overloaded with nutrients and protein to help you withstand our punishments. That's what you're getting now, just slightly processed." Weasel choked, vomiting yet again, feeling the foul mixture spewing out of her nostrils. She tried to continue, telling herself that at least she was getting water mixed with it, water she desperately needed after a night of consuming Needle's piss. "What I am going to try to see is how long you can subsist on nothing but Bridget's bodily wastes. We're going to feed her normal food, feed her as much as she wants, and you will get want she doesn't need." Weasel gulped down the last few swallows from the tube, starting to cry again at her pathetic predicament, convulsing with sobs of anguish. One of the guards detached the tube, and swung Needle around to the wall. Weasel glanced up, wanting to see what Needle's reaction to this horrible plan was. Her eyes were closed, not looking at anything, and Weasel saw tears streaking her face. The guard pulled a tube out of the wall, attaching it to Needle's facemask. A thick, gooey paste flowed down the tube into her mouth. She swallowed dutifully. "Go on," the Commander said, "eat up. You're eating for two now, remember." The guards laughed. One of them patted Needle on her bare buttock. As she grew used to the taste in her mouth, Weasel realized that they had not let her empty her bowels. She was still full of water from her enema, and the pressure was getting painful. The Commander squatted down, taking Weasel's chin in his hands, and stared at her. "This is pretty unpleasant, huh? You're probably feeling pretty fucking sorry for yourself right now. Feeling pretty damn miserable?" He shook his head. "Let me tell you something. Let me tell you a little story. I didn't always work here. In another life, I was a detective with the Los Angeles Police Department. I worked homicide on the Westside. The first part of my life ended in the summer of 2006. That's when I got a call about a killing near the airport." X. Weasel watched, transfixed, as Razor sharpened the blade. Her motions were slow, almost hypnotic. The razor made quiet noises as it scraped across the denim. Ssst. Ssst. Ssst. But more entrancing was the feral gleam that grew in Razor's cold blue eyes. It was a look Weasel had gotten used to. Had fallen in love with. The power of it. No one could hurt her with Razor protecting her. No one would dare. She had seen what had happened to the people who crossed Razor's lines. Razor finally rose from her spot against the I-beam, and knelt next to Jenny's immobile body. She slipped the straight razor under the leg of Jenny's shorts and slit them up to her waist. She missed Jenny's panties on the first pass and pulled them out, slicing through the white cotton. She continued upward, slicing open the T-shirt up to her arm, then to the neck. She continued down the other side, then jerked the shreds of cloth away. She slid the blade between Jenny's breasts and sliced open her bra, then cut the shoulder straps. A few seconds later, the girl was naked. She was pretty, Weasel thought. Nice, firm breasts with little pink nipples. A flat stomach, curving down to her blonde pubes. Long legs, too. She probably worked out at her parent's health club, Weasel thought bitterly. She probably had a father who loved her, who spoiled her, gave her whatever she wanted, instead of putting cigarettes out on her and making her suck him off because Mom was too drunk to do it. Razor slapped Jenny a couple of times. "Hey. Wake up." Jenny's head rolled, and she moaned softly. "What . . ." "Quiet." Jenny's eyes came open slowly, and Razor waved the blade in front of her. "We took you someplace else. We're going to have some fun with you. If you want to get out of here alive, you'll do what I say. You hear me?" Jenny's eyes swelled open as she realized where she was. She turned her head, looking around frantically, pulling at the chains holding her down. She began to whimper. Razor pressed the blade against her throat. "You're going to shut up, okay? You're not going to make a fucking sound. Do you understand?" Jenny nodded, face growing paler by the moment. Razor sat back. "Who wants to go first?" Freeway stood up. "I will." She unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them down with her panties. She stepped out of them and squatted over Jenny's face. "Lick me. Do it." Weasel heard Jenny whimpering, and Freeway grabbed her hair, pulling her head up. "Eat me, bitch! Or I'll fucking kill you." Weasel leaned over, looking around to see Jenny licking weakly up at Freeway. Freeway held onto Jenny's hair, pulling her closer. "Yeah . . ." Freeway moaned, "oh, shit, yeah . . ." Weasel leaned back against an I-beam, watching them. She took a last swig from her Snapple, then tossed the bottle as hard as she could across the warehouse. The glass made a musical tinkling as it shattered on the warehouse floor. "Bitch," Needle said laughing. "Don't fucking litter." Freeway continued to roll her hips over Jenny's face, moaning. She shook her hair out, throwing the bleached blonde strands over her shoulder as she leaned forward onto her hands. "Faster." A minute or two later, as Weasel watched blankly, Freeway convulsed in orgasm, finally lifting off Jenny's face and gasping. She crawled forward and sat on the floor. "How is she?" Razor asked. "Choice," Freeway gasped. "Very good." Jenny had begun to cry, sniffing back the tears. Freeway's vaginal fluids and her spittle covered her chin and lips. Razor stood up, shoving down her pants. She took her place over Jenny's face, and the girl went back to work. Gopher rolled over from where she was sitting, and crawled around between Jenny's legs. She reached out, tweaking Jenny's clitoris. The girl started, tensing up. "She wet?" Needle asked. "Not yet." Gopher began to masturbate her, stroking her gently with her fingers. Needle laughed. "Get her off. Try to get her off." Weasel saw Jenny rolling her hips, trying to get away from Gopher's probing fingers. "Ooo," Gopher said. "She's a virgin." "Pop her," Needle said. "I want to see if she bleeds." "No," Razor said, turning around. She gritted her teeth at what Jenny was doing to her. "I want to do it. Just wait." Gopher went back to playing with Jenny, and Weasel watched Razor pushing herself down on Jenny's mouth. She arched her back, groaning. Her buttocks flexed as she moved back and forth. Weasel knew the sorts of things Razor liked, and wondered what Jenny was doing. It hurt her to watch Razor with someone else, but she thought she understood. Razor didn't belong to her, even if she knew Razor loved her. After Razor came, thrashing over Jenny's face, Needle dropped her shorts and took her place. Gopher was still between Jenny's legs, working busily. "She's getting into it now," Gopher said. "Getting wet." Weasel could see Jenny trying to fight it, twisting her hips, tensing her stomach, but she couldn't get away from Gopher's fingers. Gopher put a hand over Jenny's stomach, trying to gauge her arousal as she worked her clitoris back and forth. Jenny got Needle off, and Redwood took her place. Gopher remained where she was, diligently trying to make Jenny come. "I think she's getting close now." Weasel crawled over to watch, looking closely at Jenny's glistening labia, her heaving stomach. Finally, Jenny's thighs tensed up and her abdomen began to shake. Gopher hooted in satisfaction, rubbing furiously at Jenny's clitoris. "Yeah! Woo!" Weasel heard Jenny cry out, then begin to sob uncontrollably. "Dammit, bitch," Redwood said. "You made her stop." Redwood grabbed Jenny's hair and smacked her head on the warehouse floor. "Shut up and get back to work." Jenny appeared to comply, and Redwood got off a few minutes later. Razor put her hand on Weasel's shoulder. "You want her?" Weasel shook her head. "It's okay." Razor stroked her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her back by her ear. "You're my kiddo. My one and only." Weasel smiled, feeling the warmth of Razor's love filling her body. Razor stood up. "Okay, enough of this shit. Let's get to work. Let the real fun begin." Weasel shifted against the I-beam. She was getting stiff sitting here, and she wondered when they were going to finish. Jenny's muffled, agonized screams were beginning to annoy her. Weasel had finished her M&M's, and now had nothing to do but sit and watch the others. She had never quite understood the point of all this, but she supposed Razor had her reasons. Needle was working on Jenny now, carefully placing her needles in some intricate abstract design. She had finished with Jenny's breasts a few minutes ago, creating a tight spiral pattern of black metal. The chain began at her nipples, around her areolas, round and round the pretty white mounds of flesh until they were completely covered. Then she had created a fleur de lis around Jenny's navel. Now she was creating some bizarre pattern around Jenny's labia, which was why the little brat was screaming so much. Razor had gagged her tightly with the shreds of her T-shirt, but Weasel could still hear her. "Are you about done?" Razor asked. "Almost." Razor had worked on Jenny first, slicing long shallow cuts down the insides of her arms and legs, cuts that had already begun to scab over, though they kept splitting open, no doubt painfully, every time Jenny thrashed around. Needle shoved one last needle into Jenny's clitoris, generating another strained howl of agony, and sat back. "There. All done." "You're one sick bitch," Gopher said, "you know that?" "Thank you." "That looks pretty neat, though," Freeway said. "One day I want to find someone I can cover completely with needles. Head to foot, every square inch. We could hang them from the ceiling so I could get at their whole body." "That would look cool," Weasel said. "I'd have to get some more, though. That would take a lot of pins." Needle sat back, and Gopher and Redwood went to work, pulling several pairs of vise-grips out of Gopher's bag. They finished as the sun was setting. Weasel looked down at the gruesome mess that had once been a pretty girl from Venice. She was always amazed at how much blood one human body held. Razor put her arm over Weasel's shoulders. "You okay?" "I guess so. I'm just tired." "Let's go home. I'll make you dinner, then you can fuck me if you want." Weasel smiled. "Okay. Let's go." XI. "I was a cop for nearly twenty years," McBride went on, "and I had never seen anything like what you and your friends did that day. You bitches cut her into so many pieces that we had to use her dental records to identify her. Then I had to call her mother and have her come down to the station. Only one image stands out in my mind more than what you did to that girl. That was the look on her mother's face when I told her what had happened to her daughter. "You see, as crazy as it might sound, she blamed herself. The girl had gone out to the Valley to see a friend of hers, and her mother was supposed to pick her up, only she couldn't get away from work. She told her daughter to call a friend to get a ride. That was the last time she ever talked to her. "That woman's husband had died of cancer the year before. That girl was all she had left, and you bitches took that away from her. That girl was her entire life. She was a good student, a good kid who wanted to go to college and become a doctor. She just made the mistake of getting into your friend's van, and she paid for that mistake with her life." Weasel hung her head, trying to block out his voice as the tears dripped down her face. So Jenny hadn't had a father after all. Somehow, that hurt more than anything else he had said. "You know what happened after that? When Feds finally busted your friends, when the full story finally came out about what you girls were doing, and this woman truly realized what had happened to her daughter, she killed herself. She slit her wrists and died in her bathtub. She couldn't stand knowing what had happened to her girl because she couldn't break away from work for just an hour." He reached over and grabbed Weasel's arm, twisting it around painfully until her tattoos were showing. "You know what I think of when I see this shit? I think of fourteen lives you and your friends snuffed out. Fourteen families you destroyed. Fourteen people who died agonized and alone while you bitches got your jollies. So no, I don't have any sympathy because you're going to be eating shit and drinking piss until I decide otherwise. If it were up to me, I'd keep you down here forever. Every day I would try something new that I pulled out of your file, something you put some poor innocent person through. Unfortunately, there are actually some limits to what I am allowed to do here. Limits that we will be exploring thoroughly. "But, just so you understand completely, you have only yourself to blame. It's because of that girl that I'm down here. After that day at the airport, just catching people like you wasn't enough anymore. I wanted to be part of the punishment." He stood up. "Hook Bridget up to the wires and stick her in the corner. Stand this bitch up in the middle of the room. I'll be right back." As the guards pulled them upright, McBride left the Pit. One guard pulled Needle over to the far wall next to a red metal box with numerous small clips sticking out of the top. He pulled one clip out, trailing a wire behind it, and attached it to Needle's clit ring. He did the same with two more wires, attaching them to her nipple rings. Then he fiddled with a dial on the box, and Needle tensed up, jerking at her chains as electricity coursed through her body. The guard stepped back, sitting on a bench nearby and drawing some water into a paper cup from a spigot in the wall. He flipped back his mouth plate and gulped it down. The other guard set Weasel upright in the middle of the room, in front of one of the wheeled cabinets of tools. Then he stepped back, waiting. McBride returned a few minutes later, carrying a laptop computer. He set it up on the cabinet and booted it up. "I'm going to show you something, something I recorded recently. I don't think you're aware of this, and frankly I hope you aren't." He started a video clip, showing what looked like a hospital room. A woman was strapped onto a gurney. With a deep, primal shock, Weasel realized it was Razor. She didn't look so good, but the hair-- and the eyes--were unmistakable. "This was taken a few days ago in San Quentin. That, if I am not mistaken, is your girlfriend. They should have done this years ago when they first arrested the bitch, but I guess she had a good lawyer. I suppose it's lucky, though, because now I can watch your face as she dies." Weasel hung against her restraints, feeling as if he had slugged her in the gut. She sobbed, gasping for breath. "No . . . " "Oh, yes," McBride said gleefully. "Oh, yes indeed." As Weasel watched, the prison medic slipped an IV into Razor's arm, strapping it down. He plugged the IV into a socket in the wall, from which the sodium pentothol would flow when the executioner began in the next room. The medic wheeled her across the room in front of a curtain, then left through a side door. Weasel strained, trying to see the look on Razor's face, looking for some reaction. But Razor just stared up at the ceiling, eyes dead. The curtain opened, and Weasel could see the witnesses beyond the window, more than she would have expected. Most of them were families of their many victims, sobbing and holding each other. The rest appeared to be cops, staring stone-faced at woman on the gurney. Weasel gasped through her open mouth, jaw slack, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't watch this, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen. She noticed a clock on the wall, and saw that it was ticking down the last few seconds to midnight. She looked at Razor's face, seeing no reaction. About ten seconds after midnight, her eyes simply closed. Two minutes later, the curtain shut, and Weasel dropped her head, crying quietly. "She went out far easier than she should have, I think, but at least she's dead now." He shut off the computer and pushed down the screen. "You, on the other hand, were sentenced to life without parole. You look healthy, so I figure you have a good forty or fifty years left in you, forty or fifty years left for me and other people to play with. Think about that. You may not be down here in SHU the rest of your life, but you're never going to see the sky again, unless they tear this place down someday." Weasel tried to get a grip on her shock and tears. She took a deep breath, swallowing hard. Razor was dead. Razor, the only person she had ever loved, or who had ever loved her. The only person who had ever given her a chance, ever looked on her as more than a human ashtray or a jizz receptacle. Weasel had visited Razor in prison only once. She had searched until she found a girl who looked like her, then mugged her and stole her purse. She used the girl's I.D. to get into San Quentin. After working her way through the long entry procedure, she sat waiting in the visitor's center for nearly an hour. A guard came into the room, looking over at her. "She doesn't want to see you. She says she doesn't know who the hell you are." Weasel gulped. She had forgotten they would give Razor her fake name. "Tell her it's Weasel." He grunted and went back through the door. Five minutes later, they brought Razor into the visiting area on the other side. Her eyes, those unforgettable eyes, locked on Weasel and lit up. She smiled, and sat down on the other side of the glass, picking up the phone. "Hey, kiddo." "Hi." "What are you doing here? This is crazy." "I had to see you." She put her hand on the glass. Razor held up hers, pressing it on the opposite side. "I miss you, kid." "How are you doing?" She shrugged. "All right. I mean, it's Death Row, right? What do you expect?" "Do you need anything?" "I could use some cigs." "I'll send you some." "Thanks. You better get out of here before they figure out who you are." "Okay." "Hang tight, kid. I love you." "I love you, too." Razor got up, leaving Weasel sobbing against the glass. That was the last time she had ever seen her. Until now. McBride was still staring at her. "Crying again, huh? Cry all you want. You've got a long way to go before you match all the tears you've made other people shed in your life." She mumbled something. "What? You've got something to say?" She tried to speak again, but the tube reduced it to incoherence. McBride stared at her for a moment, then reached around to unstrap her facemask. Weasel shook it off, flexing her jaw. "Let's hear it." "I volunteer for execution. Go ahead and kill me. I don't care anymore." McBride stood stock still for at least five seconds. Then he turned to one of the guards. "Are the cameras on?" "Of course." His reaction was immediate and explosive. "Fuck!" He threw Weasel's facemask savagely across the room, then turned away, hands on his hips, head sagging. The guard looked at Weasel, then at McBride. "Uh, sir?" "What?" "What do we do?" "What the fuck do you think we do? Get her down from there. Fuck! Motherfucker!" He kicked the wheeled cabinet violently. It tipped over, sending steel torture implements spraying across the floor in a deafening clatter. The guards jumped backward, looking at each other in confusion. Weasel looked over toward Needle, still twitching against the electric shocks they were inflicting on her. She met Weasel's gaze and nodded once, then lowered her head, closing her eyes. The guards unlocked Weasel from the rack, helping her to her feet. They locked her wrists to her waistband, and led her slowly out of the Pit. Her last sight was of the Commander, still standing in the center of the room, hands on his hips, staring at the floor. XII. It was hot, but Weasel could deal with that now. She could smell the sea air blowing in across San Francisco Bay. She twisted around in her seat, looking at the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco beyond it. The sun was out, the fog nowhere in sight. San Quentin was up ahead. She would be dead within a week. She didn't care. She and Razor would be together again, wherever she was. Weasel saw a pair of seagulls wheeling above the water. They spun through the air, executing mad spiral patterns around each other, tighter and tighter until Weasel though they might collide. Then something seemed to catch their interest, and they turned out toward the water, flying off toward the sea, two distant spots, then one, then gone. THE END ************************************************* The Subtleties of Justice Copyright 1998 by MichaelD38@aol.com Free redistribution permitted; no commericial use without authorization. ************************************************* -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----