tygavin
Magistrate
Part 1
It was a cool pleasant day as India walked to her doom. This would be the last walk she had as a free woman, though her fate had been sealed when she was notified a week before that she had been chosen for crucifixion for the Universities pagan festival. Near the end of every semester ten men and ten women were chosen from the student body and staff under forty years old to be hung from a cross until death. To make matter worse, they were given drugs that constantly kept them aroused despite the pain.
She had never seen a festival. It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious, but because the spectacle would be lost on her. India had lost her vision as a child due to severe cataracts that left her permantely blind. Because it happened very young in her life, India had vague memories of what she had seen. She knew what the world looked like, or at least once looked like.
Now at twenty-six, she had learned to live in a world of darkness. She worked hard her entire life to not let her disability bring her down. She had graduated high school as valedictorian, attained a Bachelor and master’s degree and recently completed her doctorate in classic European literature. She had begun work at this University last semester and was aware of its danger. Yet the pay was higher than any other University had offered her, the library was second to none, and she honestly never thought it would be a problem. There were over five thousand female faculty and students. What were the odds of being one of twenty women a year chosen to be crucified?
Fairly high in her case.
As she strolled along the well-known path to the gymnasium, she stopped and took a deep breath. She came to the gymnasium often to work out. She took pride in her body. She was only five foot three inches tall and perhaps one hundred and seven pounds, wore a 32C bra size and she was fit, not muscular but not too lean either. She had had lovers over the years who enjoyed her body, swore that she was gorgeous. Her family had told her of course but she felt they were obligated to do so. Hearing it from others made her more confident. She wasn’t vain but everyone wanted to be appreciated.
Despite her dark hair, she had bright green eyes that she knew were clouded. She never wore sunglasses at the encouragement of others who told her the fog over her green eyes gave her an ethereal feel.
India was in her prime, in both beauty and intelligence. She was often mistaken for a student when walking on campus and though she had plenty of opportunities had never had a boyfriend for more than a few months, more focused on her academics than sex. Not to say she didn’t enjoy it. She had even fucked women once in a while and enjoyed that as well.
She was glad for her experience for she knew what waited for her tonight and she was terrified.
So many times, India had contemplated suicide this week. She could take sleeping pills, drink a bottle of bourbon and fall asleep, drifting away into the darkness she already lived with. The only reason she hadn’t was because she knew another girl would take her place and she didn’t want to be responsible for a life being taken away because she had taken the easy way out.
What terrified India the most was not the pain but her helplessness. Before when she had sex, she was free to explore, free to control her movements. Now she would be chained, and she would become an object for others to enjoy. She had no say, no choice and even her body would betray her. The cross terrified her. Her hands were her lifeline to the world. Her touch allowed her to see the world in a way. She could imagine bodies, faces, stroke her lovers, enjoy the texture of their skin, or their scrotum, or the wetness of a pussy as her fingers explored inside.
Her hands would be taken away from her. Her feet would be taken away from her. She would be exposed, her nakedness shown to the world, to her former colleagues, to her students. They would talk about her body as an object while she writhed in agony and ecstasy. Worse yet, they would touch her, fuck her even as she hung on the cross, pinch and perhaps slap her. Her beauty would slowly go away. She would eventually wonder if she was dreaming or awake. Her friend and roommate had told her in great detail what happened at these festivals. She had spent last night with her roommate, a dear friend and her last willing lover.
Her parents had not spoken to her since she informed them. Her mother had ranted and raved over the phone about warning her not to join that University. Her father was most disappointed that they would not even have her body to bury, a place to grieve. Instead, she would be buried in a massive landfill outside of the campus where hundreds of bodies lay.
India told them goodbye and asked them not to call her again. She knew it would be too hard on all of them. That part of her life was over and soon the rest would be as well.
She stopped when she estimated she was twenty feet from the gym door. Her walking stick would let her know for sure when she had reached it, but she knew she was early. She had worn a white satin blouse and no bra underneath. Her nipples were hardened both by the fabric and the cool breeze. She had worn a black skirt that ended mid-thigh with her legs bare and shivered as the air caressed her thighs.
India turned her face to the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face, in contrast to the cool breeze. She knew once she walked inside, the next time she exited, she would be well used, covered in semen, and about to endure great agony before she died in two or three days.
India took a deep breath and wiped a tear from her cheek. She would be as brave as possible. She would try because this was happening whether she fought those who would kill her or accepted it. She wouldn’t hold back her terror while being nailed. She knew she would scream while she was nailed and may need help walking to her doom, but she would not fight, not try to run as if she could get anywhere. She suspected her stick would be taken away and she would be guided by a collar and chain as soon as she undressed.
“This is it. No point in holding off the inevitable.” India said to herself.
She began walking again, found the door to the gymnasium quickly as she suspected, and opened the door.
She nearly walked into a desk that had not been there before.
“Good morning.” A cheerful voice greeted her. “You must be Professor India Annabelle. We have never crucified a woman with a disability. You are making history. I’m Abby. I am shocked you are a professor. You look like a student.”
India wanted to laugh. She had always hated the term disability, striving to be treated like everyone else. Now she was treated equally.
“I graduated early.” India said, not sure why she was making small talk. She was already shaking.
She felt Abby’s hand hold her and nearly jerked back. India hated to be touched without permission but supposed she should become used to it. A pill was placed in her hand, and she swallowed it, suspecting what it was. This was followed by a glass of water. She only took a few sips, enough to wash the pill down.
“The rest of your drugs will be given in an injection. Go through the door in front of you. I will have your doctor, Ava, meet you in the hall and take you to your examination room. You will be number four.”
India walked straight forward and found the door easily enough. It was the door to the large women’s locker room with separate showers, probably walled off individually now.
“Good morning, India.” A pleasant woman greeted her. India would describe this morning as anything but good but stayed pleasant. Bitterness took too much energy and would change nothing. “My name is Dr. Ava Smith. I am about to become intimately acquainted with you, so feel free to call me Ava.”
Ava took her hand and began pulling her along, firmly but not roughly. She had soft hands.
India heard a door open and was pulled through. The door closed softly but it may as well have resembled the loud clanging of a prison cell being closed.
“This is standard examination, simply to make sure you are healthy enough to stay on the cross for more than a day.”
“And if I wasn’t?” Ava asked.
“We have been having spit roasts the last few years. They would most likely make you one. It would be a shame since you will look so beautiful on a cross. I can tell by looking at you that we won’t have any problems. If you would please undress.”
India held out her walking stick and it was taken from her hand. She doubted she would ever feel it in her hand again. It was the first stark reminder of losing her independence but had no doubt many more would come.
Her hands were shaking, and her body trembled as she unbuttoned her blouse slowly. Her breath picked up a bit and she began sweating.
“It’s okay.” Ava told her. “It’s the drug working. You are probably becoming wet down below. Your breasts are heaving, and your nipples could cut diamonds.”
Ava reached into her open blouse and pinched one nipple gently, causing her to jump.
“Oh!” she whispered, and Ava chuckled.
India undid her last button, pulled the bottom out of her skirt and let it fall from her shoulders onto the ground. She then unzipped the back of her skirt and let it drop.
Her hands shook as she began to pull down her panties. Ava noticed and knelt in front of her, taking the waist band and slowly pulling them down. India slipped out of her flats, and it was done. She would never wear clothing again.
She heard Ava take a deep breath that sounded like a sniff. “I usually keep these. I hope you don’t mind.”
India shook her head, not pointing out that it wouldn’t matter if she did.
The doctor took India’s hands and placed them on her face. India took the cue and touched her, getting an idea of her features. Ava guided India’s hands lower over her body and it was enough to tell India that she was attractive. She was perhaps a few inches shorter than India and had hair in a bob cut.
“What color is your hair?”
“Bright red. I see we have a bit of shaving to do.”
Ava stuck a finger into India, and it entered easily and made her gasp. “The drug is working. Be prepared for people touching you without asking permission. You are a possession now. Your body is no longer your own. I suggest you savor the feeling and take enjoyment from it. You have no other choice. Do you understand?”
India nodded. “I do.”
“Then I will escort you to a seat. I will take your vitals, shave your beautiful pussy and then we clean you internally. I hope you are ready.”
India was not ready, but it didn’t matter. Her wishes would no longer matter and both women knew it.
It was a cool pleasant day as India walked to her doom. This would be the last walk she had as a free woman, though her fate had been sealed when she was notified a week before that she had been chosen for crucifixion for the Universities pagan festival. Near the end of every semester ten men and ten women were chosen from the student body and staff under forty years old to be hung from a cross until death. To make matter worse, they were given drugs that constantly kept them aroused despite the pain.
She had never seen a festival. It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious, but because the spectacle would be lost on her. India had lost her vision as a child due to severe cataracts that left her permantely blind. Because it happened very young in her life, India had vague memories of what she had seen. She knew what the world looked like, or at least once looked like.
Now at twenty-six, she had learned to live in a world of darkness. She worked hard her entire life to not let her disability bring her down. She had graduated high school as valedictorian, attained a Bachelor and master’s degree and recently completed her doctorate in classic European literature. She had begun work at this University last semester and was aware of its danger. Yet the pay was higher than any other University had offered her, the library was second to none, and she honestly never thought it would be a problem. There were over five thousand female faculty and students. What were the odds of being one of twenty women a year chosen to be crucified?
Fairly high in her case.
As she strolled along the well-known path to the gymnasium, she stopped and took a deep breath. She came to the gymnasium often to work out. She took pride in her body. She was only five foot three inches tall and perhaps one hundred and seven pounds, wore a 32C bra size and she was fit, not muscular but not too lean either. She had had lovers over the years who enjoyed her body, swore that she was gorgeous. Her family had told her of course but she felt they were obligated to do so. Hearing it from others made her more confident. She wasn’t vain but everyone wanted to be appreciated.
Despite her dark hair, she had bright green eyes that she knew were clouded. She never wore sunglasses at the encouragement of others who told her the fog over her green eyes gave her an ethereal feel.
India was in her prime, in both beauty and intelligence. She was often mistaken for a student when walking on campus and though she had plenty of opportunities had never had a boyfriend for more than a few months, more focused on her academics than sex. Not to say she didn’t enjoy it. She had even fucked women once in a while and enjoyed that as well.
She was glad for her experience for she knew what waited for her tonight and she was terrified.
So many times, India had contemplated suicide this week. She could take sleeping pills, drink a bottle of bourbon and fall asleep, drifting away into the darkness she already lived with. The only reason she hadn’t was because she knew another girl would take her place and she didn’t want to be responsible for a life being taken away because she had taken the easy way out.
What terrified India the most was not the pain but her helplessness. Before when she had sex, she was free to explore, free to control her movements. Now she would be chained, and she would become an object for others to enjoy. She had no say, no choice and even her body would betray her. The cross terrified her. Her hands were her lifeline to the world. Her touch allowed her to see the world in a way. She could imagine bodies, faces, stroke her lovers, enjoy the texture of their skin, or their scrotum, or the wetness of a pussy as her fingers explored inside.
Her hands would be taken away from her. Her feet would be taken away from her. She would be exposed, her nakedness shown to the world, to her former colleagues, to her students. They would talk about her body as an object while she writhed in agony and ecstasy. Worse yet, they would touch her, fuck her even as she hung on the cross, pinch and perhaps slap her. Her beauty would slowly go away. She would eventually wonder if she was dreaming or awake. Her friend and roommate had told her in great detail what happened at these festivals. She had spent last night with her roommate, a dear friend and her last willing lover.
Her parents had not spoken to her since she informed them. Her mother had ranted and raved over the phone about warning her not to join that University. Her father was most disappointed that they would not even have her body to bury, a place to grieve. Instead, she would be buried in a massive landfill outside of the campus where hundreds of bodies lay.
India told them goodbye and asked them not to call her again. She knew it would be too hard on all of them. That part of her life was over and soon the rest would be as well.
She stopped when she estimated she was twenty feet from the gym door. Her walking stick would let her know for sure when she had reached it, but she knew she was early. She had worn a white satin blouse and no bra underneath. Her nipples were hardened both by the fabric and the cool breeze. She had worn a black skirt that ended mid-thigh with her legs bare and shivered as the air caressed her thighs.
India turned her face to the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face, in contrast to the cool breeze. She knew once she walked inside, the next time she exited, she would be well used, covered in semen, and about to endure great agony before she died in two or three days.
India took a deep breath and wiped a tear from her cheek. She would be as brave as possible. She would try because this was happening whether she fought those who would kill her or accepted it. She wouldn’t hold back her terror while being nailed. She knew she would scream while she was nailed and may need help walking to her doom, but she would not fight, not try to run as if she could get anywhere. She suspected her stick would be taken away and she would be guided by a collar and chain as soon as she undressed.
“This is it. No point in holding off the inevitable.” India said to herself.
She began walking again, found the door to the gymnasium quickly as she suspected, and opened the door.
She nearly walked into a desk that had not been there before.
“Good morning.” A cheerful voice greeted her. “You must be Professor India Annabelle. We have never crucified a woman with a disability. You are making history. I’m Abby. I am shocked you are a professor. You look like a student.”
India wanted to laugh. She had always hated the term disability, striving to be treated like everyone else. Now she was treated equally.
“I graduated early.” India said, not sure why she was making small talk. She was already shaking.
She felt Abby’s hand hold her and nearly jerked back. India hated to be touched without permission but supposed she should become used to it. A pill was placed in her hand, and she swallowed it, suspecting what it was. This was followed by a glass of water. She only took a few sips, enough to wash the pill down.
“The rest of your drugs will be given in an injection. Go through the door in front of you. I will have your doctor, Ava, meet you in the hall and take you to your examination room. You will be number four.”
India walked straight forward and found the door easily enough. It was the door to the large women’s locker room with separate showers, probably walled off individually now.
“Good morning, India.” A pleasant woman greeted her. India would describe this morning as anything but good but stayed pleasant. Bitterness took too much energy and would change nothing. “My name is Dr. Ava Smith. I am about to become intimately acquainted with you, so feel free to call me Ava.”
Ava took her hand and began pulling her along, firmly but not roughly. She had soft hands.
India heard a door open and was pulled through. The door closed softly but it may as well have resembled the loud clanging of a prison cell being closed.
“This is standard examination, simply to make sure you are healthy enough to stay on the cross for more than a day.”
“And if I wasn’t?” Ava asked.
“We have been having spit roasts the last few years. They would most likely make you one. It would be a shame since you will look so beautiful on a cross. I can tell by looking at you that we won’t have any problems. If you would please undress.”
India held out her walking stick and it was taken from her hand. She doubted she would ever feel it in her hand again. It was the first stark reminder of losing her independence but had no doubt many more would come.
Her hands were shaking, and her body trembled as she unbuttoned her blouse slowly. Her breath picked up a bit and she began sweating.
“It’s okay.” Ava told her. “It’s the drug working. You are probably becoming wet down below. Your breasts are heaving, and your nipples could cut diamonds.”
Ava reached into her open blouse and pinched one nipple gently, causing her to jump.
“Oh!” she whispered, and Ava chuckled.
India undid her last button, pulled the bottom out of her skirt and let it fall from her shoulders onto the ground. She then unzipped the back of her skirt and let it drop.
Her hands shook as she began to pull down her panties. Ava noticed and knelt in front of her, taking the waist band and slowly pulling them down. India slipped out of her flats, and it was done. She would never wear clothing again.
She heard Ava take a deep breath that sounded like a sniff. “I usually keep these. I hope you don’t mind.”
India shook her head, not pointing out that it wouldn’t matter if she did.
The doctor took India’s hands and placed them on her face. India took the cue and touched her, getting an idea of her features. Ava guided India’s hands lower over her body and it was enough to tell India that she was attractive. She was perhaps a few inches shorter than India and had hair in a bob cut.
“What color is your hair?”
“Bright red. I see we have a bit of shaving to do.”
Ava stuck a finger into India, and it entered easily and made her gasp. “The drug is working. Be prepared for people touching you without asking permission. You are a possession now. Your body is no longer your own. I suggest you savor the feeling and take enjoyment from it. You have no other choice. Do you understand?”
India nodded. “I do.”
“Then I will escort you to a seat. I will take your vitals, shave your beautiful pussy and then we clean you internally. I hope you are ready.”
India was not ready, but it didn’t matter. Her wishes would no longer matter and both women knew it.
