Who's kidding who? This story is motivated by the thread Throw the book at her! I wasn't really super offended, but it's a great story set-up about stupid people.Throwing the Book at her (M+/f, rape, bond)“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Marisa said to assembled friends. “I’m going to go out there and do the stunt. We’ll make it nude, so we get more press coverage. That way we can shake the system harder.”
“Just tell us how we can help,” Sara said.
“I’ll just need some help maybe with the gear,” Marisa said. “And then the publicity. Make sure all the news hears this. That way we can fight the fascists better.”
Several hours later, in the dead of night, Marisa stood at the edge of the Lanville-Preston Tower, six hundred feet off the ground. Across the way, her buddy Dan had collected the line that allowed him to pull her cable up to an anchor point on the Dudley-Marshall Building, giving Marisa a horizontal cable to dangle from. Now she stripped naked, revealing the body writing she’d had done earlier in the day. “What do you think?” she asked Sara.
“It’s upside down,” Sara replied.
“I’ll be upside down,” Marisa said. Sara turned her head to the side to read it. Above, or rather below, her breasts, Marisa had inscribed with indelible ink, the words ‘Udders for the fascist child-state’. On her belly was written ‘body shame site’. Then above her vagina, with several arrows pointing to it, was written ‘Society’s sole value of me here’. On her backside, near her ass, again with arrows, was written ‘Source of fascist love’. Finally, a jumbled collection of vulgarities was printed on the rest of her back. A few American flags with swastikas in the blue field were drawn here and there.
“Perfect!” Sara gushed. “This will surely send a powerful message.”
“Alright, let’s get me out there,” Marisa said. She put the leather-lined cuffs on her ankles, and attached them to the cable leading up to the spool that was run on the larger cable between buildings. When she slid off the edge of the tower, the spool would unfurl, fast at first, but slowing as the cable compressed the spring inside. She would dangle about four hundred feet below the spool, but easily moving up or down by dozens of feet as the wind caught her. It would make it almost impossible for the oppressors to remove her in whatever ‘rescue’ they tried. She figured she would be visible to the press and public for about ten hours before they figured out a way to remove her safely.
“It’s all set,” Sara said. “Operation Fascist Fight to begin now.”
“Wish me luck,” Marisa said. She put the ball gag in her mouth and locked it. Then she put the handcuffs on her hands, locking them behind her back. With a wink, she dropped off the edge of the building. It was an exhilarating near-free-fall as she unfurled down from the spool, while sliding out towards the middle of the span. She slowed, though, and came to a rest just where she expected to, about two hundred feet over the middle of Broadway and Main, the two primary downtown streets in the middle of the business district. She swayed wildly at first, but settled a bit, sliding up and down with the breeze as the spring-loaded spool allowed her height to change with very little force acting on her. Looking up, which was down, she saw the cars going about their business, unaware that a female victim of the patriarchal fascist state was dangling naked and helpless above them. She guessed that when dawn arrived in about a half hour, she would be spotted and the intersection shut down for the day as they tried to ‘rescue’ her from her protest. It might even make the national news media, making her a hero and maybe even sparking the revolution as the people rose up in anger.
Marisa had it all worked out. They couldn’t use a net or pad or anything below her. She was too high up. They couldn’t unfasten her cable from the towers because the spool was sliding freely along it, and she might slide into the side of either tower if they weren’t careful. Plus if they got her bouncing up and down she might hit the street as they lowered her. She didn’t know how they would eventually do it, but it would take hours and probably millions of fascist dollars.
Sure enough, as daylight came she looked up/down and saw flashing lights and heard sirens from directly below her. She spotted news crews and hoped they were able to get a good look at her body. Soon she would be a hero, if she wasn’t already. More news and police helicopters arrived above her. The streets were shut down, apparently for four or five blocks around her. She smiled, seeing the blow she was striking for freedom from oppression and hatred. Over the next several hours the chaos unfolded, and finally a helicopter appeared high above her with a rescuer dangling from the side. She was surprised they went with that option, given the danger of all the cables and wires to tangle up, but maybe there was nothing better.
(Note to readers: I, the author, have no fucking clue how a rescue in this situation would be done, so I’m just going with something dramatic.)
He had to dangle down a very long cable, hundreds of feet long, with the helicopter hovering high above, trying to maintain position. The process took hours, with the man swaying and trying to not tangle with any of the other cables. Finally he reached her and began attaching his harness to her, wrapping her in multiple places. Marisa tried her best to squirm and struggle, maximizing his danger and difficulty as well as her time in the spotlight. But he finally secured her to himself and cut the cable holding her. With the tension removed, the spool quickly furled up, removing the stray cable length. The helicopter moved away from the cable between buildings and began hauling the two of them up quickly. She would have preferred to be rescued on the street below, but instead they were obviously taking her somewhere to land. She hoped the press had time to get there for her statement.
They finally got her and her ‘rescuer’ into the helicopter and the door closed behind them. “We’ll have you on the ground soon!” one of them yelled over the noise. They set about removing the metal from Marisa’s body, including all the cuffs and the gag. She saw that they were going to set down on the pad atop the municipal courthouse. It seemed like a weird place to land. There was no news media at all.
“Hey, I want to land outside city hall!” she shouted, but it was too late. They touched down and the doors opened. She stepped out, with some prodding, right into the hands of the waiting police. “Hey, what are you doing!” she yelled as they pulled her aside and then spun her around to handcuff her.
“Marisa Parker, you have the right to remain silent!” the officer said, starting the familiar words. Marisa couldn’t believe her ears. They were going to make her disappear! They were fascist agents of evil. She tried to pull away, landing a solid kick towards one of their kneecaps. Then they tackled her, driving her naked body down into the tarmac of the rooftop and completing the arrest, including the handcuffing and the Miranda warning. Then they pulled her up and force-marched her towards the door to the elevator.
“Let go of me! I refuse this arrest! I refuse any patriarchal clothing you try to cover my body and my message with! I have the right to make any statement I want against the fascist powers of oppression and hate!” she screamed, trying again to break free and make a run for it. In the elevator she turned her face up to where she assumed the hidden camera was placed. “I reject this arrest as false and frivolous and contrary to my constitutional rights, which are themselves fascist and derived from patriarchy and evil!” she shouted. They soon had her down at the basement level, screaming and thrashing about. “I want to talk to the press! You pigs will not keep me down! I am the empowerment of femininity, and fascist patriarchy will not silence me!”
“Which cell has the broken jail-cam?” one of the arresting officers asked the desk clerk.
“Sixteen,” he replied, looking over Marisa’s body.
“I’m suing all of you pigs!” she screamed. “This is my day and my movement! You interfered without provocation! You, ass-pig, what’s your name and badge number? You have to tell me, right now, pig, or I can take your house from you! Today is about ME!”
Once in the cell they hurled her onto the bunk. Marisa hit the wall, smashing her head and stunning her into momentary silence. When she next looked up, she saw that one of the cops had his pants off and was climbing onto her. With her hands stiff cuffed, she couldn’t do shit to stop him as he pushed her legs apart and slammed his cock into her. She let out a cry of pain. The men she’d had sex with so far in her life, at the stoner bar, were neither so rough nor so big. She couldn’t believe it, even as he pistoned in and out of her, hard and fast. Were they actually going to rape her? Inconceivable! That was the worst crime in the universe, didn’t they know that? But the pain blurred her thoughts, and instead of a diatribe she was only able to grunt and cry out in pain with each thrust. Then, making it worse, they put some kind of prisoner control gag in her mouth, not to muffle her but to hold her jaw wide open.
“The cavity-search gag?” someone said. “Ah.” Whoever spoke understood as soon as a cock was stuffed into her mouth and its owner began to face fuck her. Marisa immediately tried with all of her strength to bite down, but the gag held her jaw open wide. The man just face raped her, banging his cock head against the back of her throat, making her gag over and over until he spurted his sticky hot cum directly down her throat. The man at her cunt also came, spilling into her womb. She thanked the goddess she was on birth-control. But then two more men stepped up and did it all again. She groaned and sobbed as she was violated again and again, and again some more. She lay there, still cuffed, as the cops lined up out the door for a chance to rape the crap out of her. Which they did, as they soon found her ass and added it to the rotation. Now Marisa screamed in real pain as her anus was split apart, searing pain shooting out from her rectum. By flipping her over and getting under her, they could make room for three men to fuck her all at the same time. Marisa had never imagined the sensation of a cock in her pussy, another cock in her anus, and a third cock in her mouth, pried open so she couldn’t fight. Cocks, cocks, and more cocks flooded her existence, and flooded her body with hot, vulgar, sticky jizz.
As the hours went by, she lost more and more of her strength to resist mentally. The cops were just the tip of the iceberg for Marisa, as other courtroom employees came by to join in the fun. Bailiffs, lawyers, janitors, stenographers, cafeteria workers, finally even jurors and amazingly even judges, still in robes, came down to join the line. And then the firefighters and EMTs, helicopter pilots, ambulance drivers, and municipal road crews started filtering down through the cell. Marisa was groaning, moaning, gurgling, but not talking anymore. At some point she deliriously heard some of her rapists talking.
“Yeah, bitch made me four hours late to work at the downtown branch today,” someone said.
“Same here. Then we get this email from the city, sent to every business in a four block radius.”
Businessmen, bankers, lawyers, clerks, accountants, brokers, managers, and analysts were lined up amidst the others, many returning for seconds or even thirds. Added to them were the baristas, secretaries, waiters and waitresses, street food vendors, street performers, meter maids, parking lot attendants, custodians, and hairdressers from local shops. The gobs and gobs of cum flowing out of the pricks, and eventually a fair number of squirting pussies, provided all the lube Marisa got. She didn’t even realize when the pussies started showing up at her face, so far gone was she. But some of the affected women obviously had a strong opinion on Marisa’s statement and it wasn’t supportive at all. It was as if they didn’t like her message, and maybe even hated her for sending it! Her brain tried to grasp all the hostility but she was fucked nearly brain-dead by then, and just lay there enduring as hour after hour passed with nothing by the passing of genitalia to mark the time.
She, Marisa Parker, was a babbling, disoriented wreck by the time the procession somehow ended. She was utterly exhausted by such a long period without sleep. It felt like days, and she looked with dizzy eyes as some jail guards came and lifted her up, dragging her out of the room. She found herself in a large shower area. They removed the cuffs, but chained her hands to the ceiling to keep her upright. She dangled by her wrists. They put a spreader bar on her legs.
Marisa screamed as the excessively hot water hit her body from five directions. Worse, much worse, was that the men who she could only see blurred and wavy, used some kind of rotating power scrubbers with unusually harsh bristles to scrub her skin. At least three of them attacked her body with the monster tools, spraying in soap to the overheated water and rubbing, scrubbing, scratching, searing, and smothering her body from top to bottom. Minutes passed, her skin turning bright red, raw, ruby-toned and roughly sanded down until the ink she had so carefully had drawn onto her was gone, along with the outer layer of her skin and, of course, all traces of cum on her. Next they lifted up her legs and chained them to the ceiling, spread wide. Now they used smaller washing cylinders, but spinning at crazy high speeds with equally rough bristles to cleanse out her pussy and anus. Jammed into her were the two spinning horror tools, making her shriek in agony, writhing in her chains with new-found energy despite her emotional delirium and daze. They cleaned her using far more time and far more manpower than was possibly necessary, taking over an hour from start to finish during her shower time. Then they dragged her limp body back to another, cleaner holding cell. They put restraints on her for holding unruly prisoners, but nothing else. Finally Marisa was alone in a cell, bright lights shining on her, but she quickly fell asleep anyway.
Morning came far too soon. She was still exhausted when she was roused up, her stiff body aching and insanely sore. Two officers pulled her to her feet, still chained up. “So, got anything to say to us?” one of them asked her.
“No, sir,” she meekly replied.
“Any commentary on your treatment since you got here?”
“No, sir. Certainly not,” she mechanically replied.
“Now you’re going to plead guilty to everything, right?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And no filing complaints, right?”
“Complaints about what, sir?” she answered through tears in her eyes.
“Judge Morris is going to ask you about your stay. You remember Morris? Red hair, mole on his crotch next to his penis. You won’t complain about anything to him, right?”
“I liked Judge Morris,” she answered in a dead monotone. “I have no complaints for him. I won’t waste his time. I’m guilty of it all.”
“And you’re still asserting your right to refuse prison clothing, as the Federal Twelfth Circuit Court recently ruled permissible, right?”
“Absolutely. I chose nudity yesterday and I’m sticking with it.”
“Oh that wasn’t yesterday, but close enough. Alright, let’s go.”
Marisa walked after they freed her legs, but handcuffed her once more. They took her up to a courtroom and plopped her down bare-ass naked on a bench outside the room, watched over by three armed guards. She thought she recognized many of the suited and uniformed people walking by. Soon they were ushered in.
“People versus Marisa Parker,” the clerk announced. “Charges include public mischief, trespass, endangering of lives of public officials, abuse of public services, obstruction of justice, resisting arrest, issuing terroristic threats, endangering public safety, aviation airspace violation, interfering with rescue operations…” She stood and listened as charge after charge was rattled off, hardly registering any of it.
“How do you plead?” the judge asked her. She remembered him well. He’d been in line three times.
“I’m guilty of everything, judge,” she said slowly and dully. “I plead guilty. I did all of it.”
“Why are you naked in my courtroom, Miss Parker? Are you asserting your legal right to refuse prison garb indefinitely?”
“Yes, your honor judge,” she replied slowly and in monotone still. “I reject clothing issued by the fascist state.”
“And you realize the charges could carry a sentence of up to sixty-eight years in prison?”
“That’s been carefully explained to me,” Marisa said as her brain cried out. No one had explained anything of the sort. She vaguely realized she had no real control over her words. They told her to say something, and she was too broken to say otherwise.
“Then the court finds a summary judgement of guilt. Sentencing will be made ninety days from today. Court dismissed.” The bailiffs pulled her out and led her to a holding cell. There she sat, awaiting transport, with a couple dozen other female prisoners, some naked like her, and a bit dazed though nothing like Marisa felt. She looked over and registered almost no surprise as she saw Sara sitting there, also nude, her skin red and raw, staring a bit into space. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then turned away as they awaited their chance to serve their time and make up for their crimes against the wonderful and benevolent state.
