Court on Gromet's Plaza Archive

A Game for Some

Sun, 16 Aug 2020 00:00:00 +0000

Continues from part eight_

### Part 9

With Janey snuggled up under my arm, looking up and smiling at me with wide, happy eyes, we watched as Minxy came up to us in the central courtyard and she centered her friend in front of us for our attention.

Looking very similar to Janey’s Cecelia McGovern character, this young woman was maybe five-foot two or three. She was wearing four-inch Oxfords with slightly tapered chunky heels rather than spikes or stilettos, brown tights instead of hose and a three-piece, knee-length gray skirt-suit, with a crème colored ruffled buttoned-to-the-neck blouse. From what I could see she was pretty, without being exceptional, but her head was down, and she would not look up. Her hands were at her sides and her ankles were together, side by side. Her straight brown hair was parted in the middle and it looked to be about collar length. At maybe a buck fifteen, most of it in her hips, she was an average woman in her mid-to-late twenties.

Gag Sentence

Mon, 10 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part three

Day 4

After the torments of day 3 were over and I collapsed onto my mattress I was unable to get any sleep at all. I had just lay there awake all night crying and thinking about my situation, about how trapped I was. I had never felt more helpless and alone in my life, I doubted anyone ever had. Everyday of my sentence so far I had made some infraction of the rules and earned more days to my sentence. I was terrified that my torment might never end; I would be tortured here day after day until I finally died in misery and pain.

Gag Sentence

Mon, 10 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part two

Day 3

After my second day of my sentence I was so much pain that sleep was nearly impossible. I needed sleep desperately to put an end to the constant pain I was in. My shoulders and my jaw were an unending throbbing pain. I could barely move my jaw at all and my arms were almost useless.

I had laid on the tiny mattress trying fall asleep but the pain and memories of the previous day of agony kept me awake most of the night. Unaware of time, all I had was a timer that read all zeros, and then the door swung open startling me from my haze.

Gag Sentence

Mon, 13 Aug 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one

Day 2

The cell door opened with a creak. It would take a much louder noise to awaken her after the day she had yesterday. She had fallen asleep quickly despite the considerable pain she had been in. Once asleep she hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Wake up Ms. Thompson.” Mr. Carson said

No reaction she was still sound asleep.

“Ms. Thompson, wake up!” he nearly shouted “Or you’ll get another day.”

Gag Sentence

Wed, 06 Jun 2018 00:00:00 +0000

I made a big mistake, a BIG mistake. I thought it would be over quicker and so it would be easier. Wrong. How hard could it be? Oh my God! I had eight more days and after one day, actually 8 hours, I thought I was going to die. Let me explain…

In 2033 the crime rate was sky high. The prisons were overflowing. So a law was passed that gave convicted criminals a choice, do much longer time than in the past or do much shorter time in a correctional facility where you would be punished during your sentence. The punishment was in keeping with your crime. For example, my crime was perjury; I was to be punished for speaking falsely so I was to be punished by being gagged. You don’t even want to know the punishment for prostitution, holy shit. Anyway I chose the punishment facility; I figured how hard could a gag be? This is my story of my first day.

Rubber Isolation Prisoner IP-352

Fri, 05 Jan 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1 – The Trial

In the not too distant future the overcrowded prison system reached a tipping point. Many states released those incarcerated that were deemed as non-violent. The problem occurred when many of these criminals offended again. The violence that returned to the streets caused a demand for action. The criminals were running the cities! Honest citizens took to the streets and quietly called for action.

Something had to give. The growing crime problem with the revolving-door prison system that seemed to not rehabilitate the criminal element failed to keep the streets safe for law-abiding people. The cost to keep someone jailed was also causing major stress on the jurisdictions. It was Texas that came up with a solution.

Jill's Adventure into Total Slavery 7: Heather and Norma get caught

Fri, 10 Jun 2016 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Jill’s Adventure into Total Slavery 6: A New Slave Arrives)

Part 7: Heather and Norma get caught

Tom finally contacted Jason and told him that they would be visiting in two week and the girls were looking forward to the vacation, as the last month had been very stressful, but everything was working fine and there was no major loss.

Tom told the girls to go shopping for new outfits for the vacation as they earned it with their hard work over the last month. They left to go shopping, where they both bought string bikinis and skimpy outfits and Norma also bought a few sexy nightgowns to please Tom.

Public Punishment Uniform

Fri, 10 Jun 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Ruth

Ruth had always been taller than me, a fact that both bothered her, and one that she liked to tease me with. Now, she is much taller than me, due to the eight-inch tall, ballet-toed stiletto heels that are locked securely onto her large (size ten, women’s) feet. She had always walked impatiently ahead of me, annoyed, her long, athletic Amazon strides, seemingly designed to emasculate my more normal pace. Now I am the patient one, holding her arm as she wriggles along, high on her toes, her knees hobbled closely together. Her bottom moves delightfully, well above the ground, rolling and jouncing obscenely under the way-too-short little grey prisoner’s dress that is now her daily uniform.

Public Punishment Uniform

Fri, 10 Jun 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Sharon

Sharon cursed to herself as she had to make an awkward little hop-step up a curb, causing a jingling to emanate from her breasts. She cursed her luck, cursed the choice she’d made, and above all, she cursed the short little link locked between her thigh hobbles. People stared at her as she made her forced slow, hip-swaying walk down the pedestrian mall to her office building. They always stared. Why shouldn’t they? She was out walking along in a too-short, too-tight grey-blue state correctional department dress. She hated this. She hated every waking second of this. She subconsciously tried to turn her head, to not see into the laughing eyes of the other pedestrians. For the thousandth time, the too-tight, too-tall steel collar pinched her throat at her jaw bone, stopping her. She was all too aware of the words emblazoned on the collar, in large, clear letters: CONVICTED PROSTITUTE, and under that, FLORIDA DEPT. OF CORRECTIONS. Her formerly long, beautiful hair that had hung nearly to her waist, had been cropped to a short pageboy style, so that the collar with it’s lettering and it’s large, permanent, front and rear-mounted leash rings would show from all directions.

Emma's Entombment 5

Sun, 15 Nov 2015 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Emma’s Entombment 4)

Part 5

The words were repeated and she knew it was Tony himself. Her beloved husband… and executioner! Emma Cline turned around to see him standing there. Alone, smartly dressed in a suit. Suddenly realising he was wearing the same one used on their wedding day. Just like her bridal suit there in the wardrobe. Even the heels had been returned after she’d lost them at the courthouse. But why today? She got up from the floor, dusting down the simple black frock worn today. Coming closer then reaching nervously for him and they touched. The first physical contact she’d had with a human for a year. They finally kissed before Emma broke down, Tony the same and they held each other tight. His hands rubbing her trembling body, even brushing over her ass and he felt Emma twitch at that. Eventually they broke off and he led his wife to the bed. “You’re a day early… ” she whispered. Using her voice for the first time in a month, having started talking quietly to herself again. He looked at her calendar, seeing the 24th not yet crossed out. “No, your calendar is wrong sweetheart. It’s got a November 31st, same as mine and neither of us noticed.” Emma tensed up… “So it is today then? Happy bloody Christmas love… Have a death sentence as your pressie,” she sighed, Tony somehow managing to grin at that before she did with a resigned smile as they embraced again. “What happens now then?” Tony took a deep breath, dreading what he needed to say. “It goes like this. You and I have til 5pm in here, well to get ourselves ready, though as you can see I already am. When the bell tolls I have to place these on your wrists,” getting out a set of handcuffs. “Then once they’re on I knock on the door. We’re let out, whereupon I escort you downstairs, surprisingly we’ll be alone as the warder will be packing up the rest of… your stuff. He’s doing mine as we speak.” She nodded, shuddering, as the worst bit was to come. “Once downstairs I lead you outside to the courtyard. Two hundred feet away you’ll see… the pit… and the gallows beyond that.” Her fingers gripped tighter now. “We walk forward until our destinations are reached. You will be placed by myself into the hole. There are steps leading down so no jumping!” Emma gave him a stare for that one but he ignored it. “You’ll be secured to the pillar within it by cuffs, one for each of your limbs. I’ll blindfold you if you require it. Then sand will be thrown into the pit until it reaches your chest and levelled out… ” Emma shivered again… “Then wallop?” she asked and Tony nodded. Unable to speak now. “Well love, I hope your aim is good then… ” she tried to joke but now it was Tony who began to cry.

Emma's Entombment 5

Sun, 15 Nov 2015 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part 4

Part 5

Judicial Spanking

Sat, 16 May 2015 00:00:00 +0000

I was a student at a west coast university some years ago, with several changes in major and not really expecting ever to graduate. My way was paid in full, and I saw no reason to hurry to get out in the “real world” and get a job, and all that get up early garbage I saw some of my friends doing. My present major was political science, and the only reason I chose that was it looked easier than my last major. Despite the easy nature of my latest chosen field, I found myself falling below the GPA level that guaranteed my free ride, but fortunately I wasn’t alone.

Littering is a Crime

Wed, 17 Sep 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Shyanne looked up at the judge in disbelief. She had just been sentenced to ‘community service’ which meant that she would be kept in a large public trashcan for a week. The punishment was for littering, If she littered she would be littered upon. Her parents broke down in tears as the judge gave the sentence. Their beautiful daughter didn’t deserve to be treated like trash. It was a simple mistake, throwing a cigarette butt on the sidewalk. Unfortunately the judge despised smoking and gave her a harsh sentence. A tearful Shyanne was quickly taken by police from the courtroom to their squad car and then to the mall, where she would be kept in a large trash can. The two police men were laughing and joking around as they tied Shyanne into a ball. It was pretty common for them to throw girls away since the new law had been passed. Curiously though, most men that were caught littering got away with a slap on the wrist. Shyanne had to admit though, in the back of her mind she was sort of excited. She had always wanted to be treated like an object and now would be her chance. She quickly dispelled these thoughts and continued crying. She was carried by the police men to the middle of the mall next to a pillar where the large trash can was sitting. Most of her family and even a few other bystanders were watching. Her family was giving encouragement and expressing sorrow. “It’ll be okay, It’ll only for a week, Be strong and you will make it”. One said. Another said, “I love you and I’m sorry you don’t deserve this”. Some of the bystanders took out their phones and started recording. It was a very embarrassing time for Shyanne. Shyanne was naked and tied up to the point that she couldn’t move when the police officers picked her up and slid her into the trashcan. She slipped down feeling the cool plastic on her skin as she sunk to the bottom. There was hardly anything in the trashcan because it had just been emptied. Her crying continued as she watched the swing lid come over her and then she heard a click as they padlocked the lid onto the can. She was really stuck now, she was just garbage now for a week. For whatever reason through her tears she felt an excitement building inside her, although she tried to suppress it. It wasn’t long before most of the bystanders dispersed. Some of her relatives dispersed but some stayed and talked to her through the can. She couldn’t reply back because of the gag in her mouth, though. Her father hugged the can and pressed his tear filled face against it and expressed his sorrow over the situation. It was at this moment that the first person came up to the trashcan, ignoring the crazy crying man that was hugging the can, and threw his half eaten ice cream cone into the garbage. Shyanne saw light briefly as the swing door came open and she felt something cold suddenly as the ice cream hit her skin. She had an involuntary orgasm when this happened. Nobody noticed but she still turned bright red and felt very embarrassed. Eventually all her relatives left except her mother, who sat next to the garbage can in a chair as if looking out for her daughter. Her mother watched as many people came by to get rid of their trash. She watched as they threw trash onto her daughter. When they did this she would protest and tell them that that her beautiful daughter was in there. Her mother reluctantly left though after the security guard escorted her out for ‘disruption’. Most of the mall had closed at this point so Shyanne was left alone. She had stopped crying and accepted that she was just trash for the week. She had started to get stiff and hoped that she could make it for 6 more days. The next day came along and people started to fill the halls. For some reason Shyanne had another involuntary orgasm last night when the janitor opened the garbage, looked down at her, ignored her, and pulled the bag out. The janitor then put the bag on the floor and crushed the trash down as much as he could. Shyanne, then in the afterglow of an amazing orgasm, felt herself get stuffed back into the can and locked in. To the janitor it was just trash. Throughout day 2 Shyanne cried periodically and had plenty of orgasms that she despised having. She tried to deny her sexual feelings for objectification but she was losing the fight. Throughout the day all sorts of trash piled up around her. In the morning mostly coffee and cups were thrown on her with the occasional paper plate or half eaten food item. Sometimes she would have boxes shoved onto her which sometimes hurt. From afternoon to evening she would have food thrown on her and candy wrappers, plastic bottles, paper products and just about every trash item she could think of. Day 3 & 4 went about the same. The trash in her bag was now packed tightly around her from the janitor packing it at night. The only eventful thing that happened to Shyanne during these days was when a man peed into the can because of a dare from his friends. Although disgusting Shyanne drank it because it was hard for her to get a drink in the trashcan. Her parents came around frequently to comfort her throughout her ordeal. On one occasion her father accidentally spilled ink on his shirt. He was playing with a pen and it exploded. “Ah crap this was my favorite shirt”. he raged.

Exhibit B

Fri, 04 Oct 2013 00:00:00 +0000

“Officer Kent, would you please describe the events of the evening in question.”

“Well, at 10:48 we responded to a 911 call.”

“What was the nature of the call.”

“We didn’t know.”

“Oh?”

“The operator said there seemed to be someone on the line, but their responses were garbled, muffled.”

“But you responded anyway.”

“Yes. Lots of times it’s a prank, but you never know.”

“Go on.”

“I arrived first, but waited for backup before entering the property.”

His Fondest Desire

Mon, 26 Aug 2013 00:00:00 +0000

“James Roderick, rise and face the court.”

Moving slowly, the man in prison denim rose, the chains on his cuffs clanking. A tall, well built man, he stood facing the judge.

“James Roderick, you stand before us today accused of multiple counts of rape. Before I pronounce my verdict, do you have anything to say?”

The prisoner smirked. “I say to hell with you. I didn’t do anything to any woman that she didn’t secretly want. All women are sluts. They’ll take sex any time, any place, and any way it’s offered. I just happen to be man enough to give them what they really want. So judge me and be damned.”

Public Toy

Fri, 31 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

In a world plagued by crime, it was inevitable that eventually people would become sick to death of having to deal with rape, murder, thievery, and virtually every other crime imaginable. So, after several years of skyrocketing crime rates, a law was passed in order to deal with the rising crime rate. Many would call it drastic, overbearing, and cruel, but the public at large didn’t care. They wanted crime to stop. You were one of those people. You wanted the crimes to stop. You never imagined that you would be standing in a courtroom, facing judgment for a crime that you committed. Under the law, there’s only one kind of crime, the type that is done on purpose. The law recognizes that there are accidents, events that are not done maliciously. Unfortunately for you, every other crime, no matter how small, or how big, is treated the same. Shackled and bolted to the witness booth, you stand in the court, listening to the judge reading off your crime. It was a minor one, shoplifting from a store. You had tried to be careful, to do it in such a way that no one would ever notice it was gone. And you had needed that medicine anyway, and with no money, there had essentially been only one thing you could do. Unfortunately, the court and the judge doesn’t see it that way. You went into that store purposefully choosing to steal, and there’s no excuse you can give. And consequently, there is only one sentence you can receive. Whimpering, involuntarily struggling against your chains, you listen as the judge pronounces sentence - life as a public toy. The guards come over and unbolt you from the chair, but quickly draw your hands behind you, and cuff them there before leading you out of the court. You’re taken into a side room, where you have to sign several documents. You could refuse, but that wouldn’t be a good idea. You’re forced to sign a document admitting your guilt, and that you accept the court’s decision. You don’t, but what are you going to do about it? Once the documents and paperwork have been signed, you’re taken into another room that’s used very often these days, it’s an operating room, with a single, large bed in the center, waiting for you. Panicking, you desperately try to get away. You know what goes on in this room, and what happens to those who go in. As the guards shove you towards the table, you frantically try to break your arms free of the handcuffs, thrashing them around as much as you can. But it’s useless. The cuffs holding your arms are too secure, and impossible to break free from. You’re placed down on the table and held tightly by the nurses as the chief surgeon comes up with the anesthesia mask. You stare at it, terrified as it descends towards you. You know that once it goes on, and you become unconscious, there’s no going back. Then it’s on your mouth. You try to hold your breath, but you can only do so for so long before you feel burning in your lungs. At last, you involuntarily take a breath - and then everything goes dark. The last thing you feel before slipping away is utter terror.

Borrowed Time

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

The child was sitting, alone, digging in the sand with a spoon. She was young, maybe three years old. Asilla glanced around. There were other people in the park, but none nearby. She walked over to the girl.

“Hi.”

The girl looked up at her with big, brown eyes. Asilla squatted.

“My name is Silla. What’s yours?”

The child didn’t respond, only stared.

Asilla took another look around, held up her hand before the child’s face, and made the sign. The girl began to cry.

Borrowed Time

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

“Hi.”

The girl looked up at her with big, brown eyes. Asilla squatted.

“My name is Silla. What’s yours?”

The child didn’t respond, only stared.

Asilla took another look around, held up her hand before the child’s face, and made the sign. The girl began to cry.

Serving Her Country

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

This story was an entry into the 2011 Winter Fetish Story Contest

Kelly stood before the judge, nervous as hell. This had been her third bust for soliciting. She was looking at jail time. It would be worse for Cheryl because of the dope. Cheryl always had dope. They had shared a joint earlier, something to pass the time. The cops hadn’t made her pee in a cup … yet.

Serving Her Country

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Story entry in the 2011 Winter Fetish Stories Contest

“Miss Daniels, you have been charged with soliciting. How do you plead?”

Indentured Servant

Fri, 11 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

The year was 2013 and unemployment was over thirty percent and unsecured debt was outlawed. Many people, especially recently single women like myself, were in debt beyond their ability to ever repay. The state senate had quietly passed laws to protect their friends the bankers, and the governor had signed those bills so that he would continue to get their support. The new law also provided for a “debtors prison”, and had established the court system, and paid the judge I was now standing before. I was wearing only the rags they provided, that ironically would have lead to my arrest if worn on the street for indecent exposure. I was also plastic strap cuffed wrist and ankle, the former behind my back forcing my unrestrained breasts out through the holes in my thread bare “uniform”, and my ankles fastened to a ring bolted to the dirty floor. There was no jury of my peers, or lawyer for my defense, as both of them would have to be paid, and I was here because I couldn’t pay! I would have protested my treatment, except for the disposable bit gag in my mouth, ensuring my silence and adding to my humiliation…

Roberta

Fri, 05 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Robert was in the grip of Desire. It had been rising in him all day. Now, late in the evening, it vibrated within him. It was a hot, gnawing need within him. He had been determined to resist it, but it was there, always there. Finally, with a feeling like collapsing walls, he gave in to it.

It was already late, but he thought that might work to his advantage. The decision made, he went back to the his bedroom. The room had two closets, for when two people lived in the one-bedroom apartment. He lived alone, with his “friend”.

The Verdict

Thu, 12 Sep 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Sylvia Gronovski had worked her way through law school, been a successful lawyer, and had finally become a judge. People valued her straightforward manner – her non-nonsense way of dealing with things, and her common sense. She sat the bench for just over twenty-two years and then she went into semi-retirement. Rather than see jury trials, Sylvia, now in her late fifties, moved into the field of arbitration, hearing cases and acting as a referee, hoping for a settlement with the goal of avoiding court time and clearing badly crowded docks. She felt this was a satisfactory to finish her career and leave the practice of law gracefully. Kindly and grandmotherly looking, Sylvia had a soft demeanor, a quiet spoken way that soothed angry litigants and helped resolve complicated matters. Almost never did anyone contest her final decisions and her services were eagerly sought after by people who had heard that using arbitration could yield a happy resolution and save money at the same time. Widowed for ten years, Sylvia was relatively happy with her life, but still, there was something missing.

Beta