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Priya's Punishment

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Priya arrived about ten minutes before nine at her attorney’s office, dressed in an off white blouse, a maroon skirt that fell a bit below her knees, flat pumps and a navy jacket. John Kennedy stepped out to greet her, dressed more or less as he had been the day before.

The morning had dawned mostly clear, with some puffy white clouds floating by. It was not a bad day for a stroll down to the courthouse, though it was hardly a pleasant errand they were about to embark upon, at least for Priya, though for Kennedy it represented a nice chunk of time to be billed against Priya’s retainer.

“Now, I want to be clear,” he told her. “You don’t say a word to the press. Just stare straight ahead and keep walking. And when we get inside, you leave the talking to me, OK. That’s what you’re paying me for.” Priya nodded and they stepped out of Kennedy’s building onto the sidewalk.

It took only a few minutes to make their way to the courthouse, an early twentieth century building of locally quarried limestone. As they approached, they could see a crowd of thirty or so people on the main staircase, some with video cameras on their shoulders, others holding microphones. Priya wanted very much to turn around and run, but she bravely followed her attorney up the stairs.

One of the women holding a microphone, a thin woman around her own age with carefully coiffed blond hair looked vaguely familiar. Priya realized she was a reporter on the local news station that she occasionally watched.

“Don’t you feel, as a doctor, that what you are accused of is a violation of the Hippocratic oath?” the woman shouted, pointing her microphone towards Priya. Priya was tempted to stop and explain that she had been trying to help, not hurt Susan and Rebecca, but she remembered what her lawyer had advised her and just kept walking straight ahead.

She noted off to the side a man in his mid-fifties being interviewed by another reporter, a stylish looking black woman. “That’s the DA,” Kennedy whispered in her ear. She could only imagine that he must be painting her as the most heinous criminal ever to besmirch this town of law-abiding citizens.

Soon they passed through the doors into the building. Kennedy led her down the main corridor to the District Attorney’s Office, where Inspectors Adams and Nelson were waiting for them. “Right on time, Dr. Raman. I appreciate punctuality. I need to take your cellphone.” Adams said. Priya handed it to him. “You’ll get it back if you make bail,” he assured her.

“Please turn around, ma’am,” Inspector Nelson said. Priya could see the handcuffs open, waiting for her wrists.

“Is that really necessary? If I were going to run I wouldn’t be here,” she asked. Her attorney was shaking his head.

“It’s procedure,” Nelson replied. “As a former Corrections employee, I’m sure you understand that.” And of course Priya did. How many of the things they did at the Center, which were justified on the basis of “security”, were truly necessary and how many were just a way to impose the will of the State on the bodies and minds of the prisoners?

Sighing resignedly, Priya turned around and placed her hands behind her back. She felt the cuffs lock around her wrists. “You go with them,” Kennedy told her. “Don’t say a word, just name rank and serial number. I’ll be in the courtroom when they bring you out for arraignment.”

Adams led the way down the hall, with Nelson holding onto Priya’s right arm, just firmly enough to let her know that her co-operation was not optional. They descended a flight of stairs to the basement. Into an open area with several cages made of floor to ceiling bars along one wall. In one of them were three men, two black and one white, sitting on cheap plastic chairs. In another was a young Latina woman. All of them were wearing orange jumpsuits and flip flops. Obviously, they had been brought from the county jail to await a court hearing of one sort or another.

They led Priya to a table. Inspector Nelson removed the handcuffs. “Sit,” she ordered, as she installed herself in the chair opposite Priya in front of a desktop computer and screen. Inspector Adams stood behind Priya.

Nelson confirmed Priya’s basic information: name, address, social security number, date of birth, hair, eye and skin color, height and weight. Then she ordered her to stand in front of a wall with measured height markers. “Face front”. Adams snapped a picture. “Turn left”. Another picture. “Turn right.” One more.

They escorted her back to the table. Adams brought over an ink pad and a paper with 10 squares. Nelson put on a pair of latex gloves, took hold of Priya’s left hand, and touched each finger in turn to the ink pad and then, firmly pressed it onto the appropriate square on the paper. She repeated that with the right hand, then passed Priya a paper towel to wipe. It mostly just smeared the ink all over.

“Open your mouth please,” Nelson ordered. She opened a sterile pouch and took out a small swab. “For DNA, but I’m sure you know about that.” Of course Priya did, but she decided this wasn’t the time for a discourse on the subject. Nelson quickly swabbed the inside of her cheek and placed the swab in a long plastic tube and sealed it.

“Stand up,” Nelson ordered. Priya stood. The Inspector guided her towards the cage with the young woman in it. Adams opened the door. “Inside,” Nelson ordered. Priya stepped inside and Adams closed the door and locked it. The two inspectors disappeared up the stairs.

Priya sat in the chair farthest from the other woman, who was staring at her, as were the men in the other cage. Priya supposed that they didn’t often see a nicely dressed middle-class professional woman down here.

Priya considered making conversation with the young woman, but what would she say? “What are you in for?” “Is this your first time?” None of those seemed promising, so she stared at the floor.

Time passed slowly. She noticed a video camera pointed at them. Presumably someone was watching in case of trouble. So far, there hadn’t been any and Priya hoped it stayed that way. There was a seatless toilet against the back wall of the cage, but it was open to viewing by all. Priya needed to pee, but decided to hold it in.

Every so often, a pair of bored looking bailiffs would appear, handcuff one of the prisoners and escort them up the stairs, presumably for their hearing in front of the judge; first one of the black men, then the white man and then her cellmate. None of them came back-presumably they were being taken back to wherever they were incarcerated.

By this point, Priya felt like she was about to burst. She could feel the eyes of the remaining man and the video camera boring into her back as she bent over to look at the rim of the toilet. It was none too clean, but what choice did she have? She really didn’t want to appear in court with her clothes soaked with piss. Fortunately, she had worn a skirt rather than pants, so she was able to lower her underpants and crouch over the bowl without exposing herself.

She knew the male prisoner was staring at her, but she looked away and did her business quickly. There was nothing to wipe with. She heard steps descending the stairs, so she stood and quickly pulled her panties up.

The two bailiffs approached her cage. One of them opened the door and the other approached with the handcuffs. “Raman, the judge is ready for you.” He pronounced the name like the Japanese noodle soup. Priya turned and put her hands behind her. She heard the cuffs click shut.

They escorted her up the stairs, down the hall and into a courtroom. At least this room had some windows near the ceiling that let the light in. There was a clock on the wall; it was a bit after noon. No wonder she was hungry.

They took her over to stand at a table next to her attorney. Sanjay was sitting behind him in the front row. He smiled and gave the thumbs up to Priya as the bailiff undid her cuffs. She smiled at him, then turned to face the judge, a severe looking woman with her greying hair drawn up into a tight bun.

The clerk cleared his throat. “Case # 7564989, People vs Raman, two counts each of Official Misconduct and Sexual Assault in the Third Degree.” Priya’s heart sank. Two counts each? But of course, Susan and Rebecca would each constitute a separate offense. And sexual assault? Kennedy had warned her they might charge that, but still.

“How does the defendant plead?” the judge asked.

Priya was too stunned to reply, so her attorney answered, loudly, “Not guilty, your honor.”

“Is that what your plea is, Dr. Raman?” the judge asked.

“Yes, your honor,” Priya replied.

The judge turned to the Assistant District Attorney, an attractive blond woman about Priya’s age with her hair cut in a very professional-looking bob. She seemed like someone Priya could imagine having lunch with under different circumstances. “Bail?” she asked.

The ADA named a number which would be covered by Priya and Sanjay’s savings, along with the equity in their house, with very little left over. Kennedy nodded to indicate that this had been agreed to.

The judge was about to bang her gavel, when the ADA spoke up. “Your honor, we are requesting home confinement with monitoring.” Kennedy hadn’t mentioned that to her, but he seemed unfazed. It seemed that this had also been agreed to.

“So ordered,” the judge, said. “I’ll hear pre-trial motions on…, naming a date about a month in the future. Then she banged her gavel.

Kennedy accompanied Priya, along with Sanjay to a small conference room where they were met by the Court Clerk. There, they signed a bunch of papers that pledged their life savings and their house if Priya failed to show up for her trial. Sanjay made a big show of being reluctant to sign, for which Priya could have strangled him, but eventually he did.

One of the bailiffs came in and knelt, affixing a bracelet to Priya’s left ankle. He handed her a box. “This has the base station. You have one hour to plug it in at home. It has a one hundred foot range, so you can go out in your yard, but go any further and we’ll be looking for you. If you have a medical emergency, call this number,” he said pointing to a number on the base station.

Kennedy walked them out of the courthouse. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

As soon as they got home, Priya plugged the base station in, then kicked her shoes off and lay down on the sofa. Sanjay sat at the far end next to her feet. “You know what you look like with that ankle bracelet?’ he asked.

“What?” she asked.

“A slave girl,” he said, grinning.

“That’s not funny.”

“Well, I did sort of buy your freedom, didn’t I?”

Priya sat up. “Sanjay, stop that. I’m not a slave girl, I’m your wife.”

“A wife who owes her husband big time. If I hadn’t signed those papers you’d be sitting in the lock-up right now. Don’t you think you should show me some gratitude?” Priya couldn’t help noticing the bulge in his pants.

“Like how?”

“You could do a little slave girl strip tease dance for me.”

She looked at him, askance. “You’re not serious?”

“Totally. Come on. The loyal husband who stands by his errant wife deserves no less. Unless you want another spanking.”

“No! You wouldn’t!” Priya protested.

“Try me,” Sanjay said.

Priya didn’t really believe that he would spank her again, but he had stood by her so far, and she would no doubt need his support through this ordeal, so what was the harm in pleasing him? She stood and began swaying her hips as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off.

“Come closer,” he ordered. When she got within range he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, then pulled her towards him and buried his face in her tits. She felt a little tingle run down her spine.

Sanjay’s hands were fussing with the button on her skirt. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I want a lap dance.”

“What makes you think I know how to do one?”

“Take your skirt off and give it a shot.”

Priya sighed. Sanjay was getting out of line, but she’d spent the day following orders, so what was one more? She unbuttoned her skirt, folded it neatly and placed it on the end table.

Then, wearing only her panties, she sat down on Sanjay’s lap. She could feel his erection pressing into her ass. She slid her body back and forth and from side to side. Sanjay was grinning like a fool.

“Now are you happy?” she asked.

“That was probably the lamest lap dance in history. If they take away your medical license for your crimes, you shouldn’t take a job as a stripper. But let’s see if you can do better with your oral skills.”

“No, Sanjay. I just did that the other night.”

“But this time I want you to do it all the way with no hands. If you cheat, I’m going to ask those cops if can borrow their handcuffs. Now let’s go.”

“Sanjay, you’re not very nice,” Priya said, shaking her head. But, despite herself, she got on her knees in front of her husband and began unzipping his trousers.
 
windar said:
Priya arrived about ten minutes before nine at her attorney’s office, dressed in an off white blouse, a maroon skirt that fell a bit below her knees, flat pumps and a navy jacket. John Kennedy stepped out to greet her, dressed more or less as he had been the day before.

The morning had dawned mostly clear, with some puffy white clouds floating by. It was not a bad day for a stroll down to the courthouse, though it was hardly a pleasant errand they were about to embark upon, at least for Priya, though for Kennedy it represented a nice chunk of time to be billed against Priya’s retainer.

“Now, I want to be clear,” he told her. “You don’t say a word to the press. Just stare straight ahead and keep walking. And when we get inside, you leave the talking to me, OK. That’s what you’re paying me for.” Priya nodded and they stepped out of Kennedy’s building onto the sidewalk.

It took only a few minutes to make their way to the courthouse, an early twentieth century building of locally quarried limestone. As they approached, they could see a crowd of thirty or so people on the main staircase, some with video cameras on their shoulders, others holding microphones. Priya wanted very much to turn around and run, but she bravely followed her attorney up the stairs.

One of the women holding a microphone, a thin woman around her own age with carefully coiffed blond hair looked vaguely familiar. Priya realized she was a reporter on the local news station that she occasionally watched.

“Don’t you feel, as a doctor, that what you are accused of is a violation of the Hippocratic oath?” the woman shouted, pointing her microphone towards Priya. Priya was tempted to stop and explain that she had been trying to help, not hurt Susan and Rebecca, but she remembered what her lawyer had advised her and just kept walking straight ahead.

She noted off to the side a man in his mid-fifties being interviewed by another reporter, a stylish looking black woman. “That’s the DA,” Kennedy whispered in her ear. She could only imagine that he must be painting her as the most heinous criminal ever to besmirch this town of law-abiding citizens.

Soon they passed through the doors into the building. Kennedy led her down the main corridor to the District Attorney’s Office, where Inspectors Adams and Nelson were waiting for them. “Right on time, Dr. Raman. I appreciate punctuality. I need to take your cellphone.” Adams said. Priya handed it to him. “You’ll get it back if you make bail,” he assured her.

“Please turn around, ma’am,” Inspector Nelson said. Priya could see the handcuffs open, waiting for her wrists.

“Is that really necessary? If I were going to run I wouldn’t be here,” she asked. Her attorney was shaking his head.

“It’s procedure,” Nelson replied. “As a former Corrections employee, I’m sure you understand that.” And of course Priya did. How many of the things they did at the Center, which were justified on the basis of “security”, were truly necessary and how many were just a way to impose the will of the State on the bodies and minds of the prisoners?

Sighing resignedly, Priya turned around and placed her hands behind her back. She felt the cuffs lock around her wrists. “You go with them,” Kennedy told her. “Don’t say a word, just name rank and serial number. I’ll be in the courtroom when they bring you out for arraignment.”

Adams led the way down the hall, with Nelson holding onto Priya’s right arm, just firmly enough to let her know that her co-operation was not optional. They descended a flight of stairs to the basement. Into an open area with several cages made of floor to ceiling bars along one wall. In one of them were three men, two black and one white, sitting on cheap plastic chairs. In another was a young Latina woman. All of them were wearing orange jumpsuits and flip flops. Obviously, they had been brought from the county jail to await a court hearing of one sort or another.

They led Priya to a table. Inspector Nelson removed the handcuffs. “Sit,” she ordered, as she installed herself in the chair opposite Priya in front of a desktop computer and screen. Inspector Adams stood behind Priya.

Nelson confirmed Priya’s basic information: name, address, social security number, date of birth, hair, eye and skin color, height and weight. Then she ordered her to stand in front of a wall with measured height markers. “Face front”. Adams snapped a picture. “Turn left”. Another picture. “Turn right.” One more.

They escorted her back to the table. Adams brought over an ink pad and a paper with 10 squares. Nelson put on a pair of latex gloves, took hold of Priya’s left hand, and touched each finger in turn to the ink pad and then, firmly pressed it onto the appropriate square on the paper. She repeated that with the right hand, then passed Priya a paper towel to wipe. It mostly just smeared the ink all over.

“Open your mouth please,” Nelson ordered. She opened a sterile pouch and took out a small swab. “For DNA, but I’m sure you know about that.” Of course Priya did, but she decided this wasn’t the time for a discourse on the subject. Nelson quickly swabbed the inside of her cheek and placed the swab in a long plastic tube and sealed it.

“Stand up,” Nelson ordered. Priya stood. The Inspector guided her towards the cage with the young woman in it. Adams opened the door. “Inside,” Nelson ordered. Priya stepped inside and Adams closed the door and locked it. The two inspectors disappeared up the stairs.

Priya sat in the chair farthest from the other woman, who was staring at her, as were the men in the other cage. Priya supposed that they didn’t often see a nicely dressed middle-class professional woman down here.

Priya considered making conversation with the young woman, but what would she say? “What are you in for?” “Is this your first time?” None of those seemed promising, so she stared at the floor.

Time passed slowly. She noticed a video camera pointed at them. Presumably someone was watching in case of trouble. So far, there hadn’t been any and Priya hoped it stayed that way. There was a seatless toilet against the back wall of the cage, but it was open to viewing by all. Priya needed to pee, but decided to hold it in.

Every so often, a pair of bored looking bailiffs would appear, handcuff one of the prisoners and escort them up the stairs, presumably for their hearing in front of the judge; first one of the black men, then the white man and then her cellmate. None of them came back-presumably they were being taken back to wherever they were incarcerated.

By this point, Priya felt like she was about to burst. She could feel the eyes of the remaining man and the video camera boring into her back as she bent over to look at the rim of the toilet. It was none too clean, but what choice did she have? She really didn’t want to appear in court with her clothes soaked with piss. Fortunately, she had worn a skirt rather than pants, so she was able to lower her underpants and crouch over the bowl without exposing herself.

She knew the male prisoner was staring at her, but she looked away and did her business quickly. There was nothing to wipe with. She heard steps descending the stairs, so she stood and quickly pulled her panties up.

The two bailiffs approached her cage. One of them opened the door and the other approached with the handcuffs. “Raman, the judge is ready for you.” He pronounced the name like the Japanese noodle soup. Priya turned and put her hands behind her. She heard the cuffs click shut.

They escorted her up the stairs, down the hall and into a courtroom. At least this room had some windows near the ceiling that let the light in. There was a clock on the wall; it was a bit after noon. No wonder she was hungry.

They took her over to stand at a table next to her attorney. Sanjay was sitting behind him in the front row. He smiled and gave the thumbs up to Priya as the bailiff undid her cuffs. She smiled at him, then turned to face the judge, a severe looking woman with her greying hair drawn up into a tight bun.

The clerk cleared his throat. “Case # 7564989, People vs Raman, two counts each of Official Misconduct and Sexual Assault in the Third Degree.” Priya’s heart sank. Two counts each? But of course, Susan and Rebecca would each constitute a separate offense. And sexual assault? Kennedy had warned her they might charge that, but still.

“How does the defendant plead?” the judge asked.

Priya was too stunned to reply, so her attorney answered, loudly, “Not guilty, your honor.”

“Is that what your plea is, Dr. Raman?” the judge asked.

“Yes, your honor,” Priya replied.

The judge turned to the Assistant District Attorney, an attractive blond woman about Priya’s age with her hair cut in a very professional-looking bob. She seemed like someone Priya could imagine having lunch with under different circumstances. “Bail?” she asked.

The ADA named a number which would be covered by Priya and Sanjay’s savings, along with the equity in their house, with very little left over. Kennedy nodded to indicate that this had been agreed to.

The judge was about to bang her gavel, when the ADA spoke up. “Your honor, we are requesting home confinement with monitoring.” Kennedy hadn’t mentioned that to her, but he seemed unfazed. It seemed that this had also been agreed to.

“So ordered,” the judge, said. “I’ll hear pre-trial motions on…, naming a date about a month in the future. Then she banged her gavel.

Kennedy accompanied Priya, along with Sanjay to a small conference room where they were met by the Court Clerk. There, they signed a bunch of papers that pledged their life savings and their house if Priya failed to show up for her trial. Sanjay made a big show of being reluctant to sign, for which Priya could have strangled him, but eventually he did.

One of the bailiffs came in and knelt, affixing a bracelet to Priya’s left ankle. He handed her a box. “This has the base station. You have one hour to plug it in at home. It has a one hundred foot range, so you can go out in your yard, but go any further and we’ll be looking for you. If you have a medical emergency, call this number,” he said pointing to a number on the base station.

Kennedy walked them out of the courthouse. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

As soon as they got home, Priya plugged the base station in, then kicked her shoes off and lay down on the sofa. Sanjay sat at the far end next to her feet. “You know what you look like with that ankle bracelet?’ he asked.

“What?” she asked.

“A slave girl,” he said, grinning.

“That’s not funny.”

“Well, I did sort of buy your freedom, didn’t I?”

Priya sat up. “Sanjay, stop that. I’m not a slave girl, I’m your wife.”

“A wife who owes her husband big time. If I hadn’t signed those papers you’d be sitting in the lock-up right now. Don’t you think you should show me some gratitude?” Priya couldn’t help noticing the bulge in his pants.

“Like how?”

“You could do a little slave girl strip tease dance for me.”

She looked at him, askance. “You’re not serious?”

“Totally. Come on. The loyal husband who stands by his errant wife deserves no less. Unless you want another spanking.”

“No! You wouldn’t!” Priya protested.

“Try me,” Sanjay said.

Priya didn’t really believe that he would spank her again, but he had stood by her so far, and she would no doubt need his support through this ordeal, so what was the harm in pleasing him? She stood and began swaying her hips as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off.

“Come closer,” he ordered. When she got within range he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, then pulled her towards him and buried his face in her tits. She felt a little tingle run down her spine.

Sanjay’s hands were fussing with the button on her skirt. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I want a lap dance.”

“What makes you think I know how to do one?”

“Take your skirt off and give it a shot.”

Priya sighed. Sanjay was getting out of line, but she’d spent the day following orders, so what was one more? She unbuttoned her skirt, folded it neatly and placed it on the end table.

Then, wearing only her panties, she sat down on Sanjay’s lap. She could feel his erection pressing into her ass. She slid her body back and forth and from side to side. Sanjay was grinning like a fool.

“Now are you happy?” she asked.

“That was probably the lamest lap dance in history. If they take away your medical license for your crimes, you shouldn’t take a job as a stripper. But let’s see if you can do better with your oral skills.”

“No, Sanjay. I just did that the other night.”

“But this time I want you to do it all the way with no hands. If you cheat, I’m going to ask those cops if can borrow their handcuffs. Now let’s go.”

“Sanjay, you’re not very nice,” Priya said, shaking her head. But, despite herself, she got on her knees in front of her husband and began unzipping his trousers.
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Another great chapter, Windar. Pretrial a month away means plenty of time for creative foreplay before the main event
 
windar said:
Priya sighed. Sanjay was getting out of line, but she’d spent the day following orders, so what was one more? She unbuttoned her skirt, folded it neatly and placed it on the end table.
Click to expand...

I wouldn’t put up with that shit if I was Priya! After the day she’s had, the idiot ought to be sympathetic and consoling. Typical male. Only has one thing on his mind! I’d have told him to buzz off!
 
Priya has just seen Sanjay off to work and was putting away the breakfast dishes, when her phone rang. It was Paul. “What could he want this time?” she wondered. Well there was only one way to find out.

“Hello, Paul.”

“Priya, I’m sorry to tell you this.” No greeting, no small talk, this wasn’t going to be good. “In view of the serious allegations against you, the Department is going to have to suspend participation in your clinical study.”

“Paul,” Priya said, shocked. In all the concern over the criminal charges she was facing, she hadn’t given much thought to her job and the clinical trial.

“Priya, you may be innocent, at least I hope you are, but you’re under a cloud at this point and it involves things that are alleged to have happened while you were employed by the Department. We can’t take the risk of having you involved in a study in which our inmates are subjects.”

Priya tried again. “Paul.”

“I probably should have done this when the complaint was first made, but I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But now that formal charges have been filed and it’s a matter of public record, I have no choice.”

Priya stared at the phone. “Priya, I like you and I wish you the best. You really ought to focus on your legal situation.”

The line went dead. “Shit!” Priya muttered. She would have to tell Fong about this whole mess. She wondered how long it would take for the other clinical sites to hear about this. So far, the national networks hadn’t picked up the story as far as she had seen, but she knew they had affiliations with various local stations. Even if they didn’t, she figured it was only a matter of time before word got around.

She and Sanjay had watched the local news last night, the film of her walking up the stairway with her attorney, the interview with the DA. “We want it known that there will be no favoritism in this case. The law applies to all. People in positions of authority who abuse that authority will be held to account, just like anyone else, and perhaps even more so.”

That hadn’t cheered Priya up much, especially when Sanjay had nodded as the DA spoke. She believed they had both voted for the guy, too.

‘Well, best to get ahead of this,” she thought. She began drafting an email to Fong, telling him, without going into detail, that a personal situation had arisen and she needed to take a leave of absence.

Then, she did perhaps the first smart thing she’d done since this whole situation began, she phoned her lawyer and explained what had happened and what she proposed to do.

“I think that it’s wise to ask for a leave of absence,” Kennedy said. “But I want to review the email before you send it.”

“It’s one sentence. I’ll read it to you.” She read it.

“That’s fine, Dr. Raman. You shouldn’t say any more than that.”

“What if he asks for more details?”

“Check back with me.”

Priya hit “Send”. It was already close to midnight in Trabbia, so she didn’t expect a response for a while, but when she checked back and hour or so later, the reply was there:

I saw the story of your arrest on line. I am shocked at your unethical and criminal behavior, Dr. Raman. I hope the American authorities punish you as severely as the Trabbian ones would. Trabco Pharma cannot afford to have its name associated with such scandals. You are hereby terminated, effective immediately. Please forward all of your work-related files, whether in electronic or paper form, to our offices within 24 hours and delete any copies in your possession. Failure to do so will result in legal action.

“The hypocritical bastard!” Priya exclaimed. During her time in Trabbia, Fong had felt perfectly free to fuck any of the female prisoners that caught his eye, including her, not to mention whipping, caning and otherwise torturing them along with his partner in debauchery, Warden Noba. “Fuck them both!” she said out loud, though no one could hear it.

Now she was unemployed, her life savings in the hands of the court, totally dependent on Sanjay. Needing another legal pickle like a hole in the head, Priya spent the rest of the day copying files onto a thumb drive and angrily jamming paper files into a large box, before calling FedEx to come pick it up. It cost her over $200 of her own dwindling cash reserves to send it to Trabbia. Well, that part of her life was over with very little to show for it.

***​

Stuck at home alone all day while Sanjay worked, with no work of her own to distract her, the next several days passed slowly for Priya. She spent a lot of time cursing herself for her stupidity in not having controlled herself with Susan and her daughter.

She also spent a lot of time thinking about what punishment she might be facing. Prison just seemed too awful to contemplate. An educated professional woman among those drug addicts and gang members was bad enough, but a former corrections officer would be a target for revenge and abuse by most of the prisoners. While fit, Priya wasn’t that physically strong and she didn’t fit into the ethnic groups to which the vast majority of the inmate population belonged, so finding protection wouldn’t be easy.

The prospect of years in prison terrified Priya. She paced the length of the living room, back and forth, trying to calm herself. It was a nice day outside, warm and sunny, if a bit breezy. Her ankle bracelet allowed her to go into her yard, so she paced the line of trees at the edge of the property a dozen or so times, before she went back inside.

Still, her mind was racing. Instead of, or even in addition to prison, she could be facing a caning. She had looked up the crimes she was charged with and it was a possible punishment under the statutes, many strokes if you added the various offenses together. She thought about how it would feel to be processed in the Center where she had worked.

Sue and Beth would be there, of course. Would they feel disgust at what she had done or sympathy for a former colleague? It wouldn’t matter-they would do their job either way.

They would order her to strip, just like they had done with all the other offenders. Priya imagined how it would feel when the order came down. She shivered even though it was warm in the room. Just to make it more realistic, she pulled her T shirt over her head and lowered her pajama bottoms. She was naked now, just like all the women who had visited the center.

She imagined Sue and Beth checking her body out. Perhaps other people would be there, Paul, some of the other bigwigs in the Department, all leering at her, shaking their heads at how she had disgraced herself and brought shame on them.

Sue or Beth would search all her most intimate places. She ran her hands over her breasts, lifting them and squeezing the flesh, probing to make sure nothing was hidden. Her hands lowered to her waist, then below to her pussy. They would certainly want to check there. She inserted two fingers, feeling the seeping wetness. ‘God, I’m a sick puppy to be turned on by these thoughts’ Priya told herself.

And of course they would have to check her ass, too. She grabbed her cheeks, then let her finger stray inside the crack to the small rear hole, fingering the ring of muscle before gently pushing one finger, lubricated with her cunt juices, inside. She knew they wouldn’t be so gentle at the Center.

Then she would have her medical exam, the same exam she had performed dozens of times on frightened women, who hoped against hope that she would find something that would spare them the agony of their caning. Priya knew that her health was good and there would be no relief on those grounds.

The exam would likely be performed by her successor, Dr. Alison Taylor. Priya had met her a few times-a butch-looking woman, pleasant enough with her colleagues, but with a sadistic streak when dealing with offenders, or so Priya had heard. She certainly couldn’t expect delicate treatment from Dr. Taylor.

And then she would be brought, naked, into the punishment room where Beth and Sue would strap her to the flogging frame, bent at the waist, everything on display, her ass presented as a target for George, the one who would deliver the strokes in the only way he knew, full force.

Caught up in the imagined punishment, one which could very well become very real very soon, Priya leaned over the arm of the couch, her ass presented as it would be on the caning frame. She began rocking herself back and forth against the material, feeling the delicious pressure against her clit.

She thought about all the women she had watched caned at the Center-Susan, Rebecca, Rebecca’s classmates, her former colleague from the hospital, Nicky Pennington. All of them melded into her, Priya Raman, suffering her fate on the frame as her excitement mounted to its peak.

Rubbing her crotch desperately now into the arm of the sofa, her legs tense, Priya closed her eyes, held her breath and let the waves of pleasure wash over her. When the orgasm had finally passed, leaving her drained and, at least for the moment, relaxed, she noticed that the area of the sofa she had been rubbing herself against was soaked. She went to get a towel, hoping it would dry before Sanjay got home.
 
windar said:
When the orgasm had finally passed, leaving her drained and, at least for the moment, relaxed, she noticed that the area of the sofa she had been rubbing herself against was soaked. She went to get a towel, hoping it would dry before Sanjay got home.
Click to expand...

Geeze! How dumb can you get? Always, always, use the towel first, not after! Do you know what sofa reupholsterers charge these days!
 
windar said:
Priya has just seen Sanjay off to work and was putting away the breakfast dishes, when her phone rang. It was Paul. “What could he want this time?” she wondered. Well there was only one way to find out.

“Hello, Paul.”

“Priya, I’m sorry to tell you this.” No greeting, no small talk, this wasn’t going to be good. “In view of the serious allegations against you, the Department is going to have to suspend participation in your clinical study.”

“Paul,” Priya said, shocked. In all the concern over the criminal charges she was facing, she hadn’t given much thought to her job and the clinical trial.

“Priya, you may be innocent, at least I hope you are, but you’re under a cloud at this point and it involves things that are alleged to have happened while you were employed by the Department. We can’t take the risk of having you involved in a study in which our inmates are subjects.”

Priya tried again. “Paul.”

“I probably should have done this when the complaint was first made, but I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But now that formal charges have been filed and it’s a matter of public record, I have no choice.”

Priya stared at the phone. “Priya, I like you and I wish you the best. You really ought to focus on your legal situation.”

The line went dead. “Shit!” Priya muttered. She would have to tell Fong about this whole mess. She wondered how long it would take for the other clinical sites to hear about this. So far, the national networks hadn’t picked up the story as far as she had seen, but she knew they had affiliations with various local stations. Even if they didn’t, she figured it was only a matter of time before word got around.

She and Sanjay had watched the local news last night, the film of her walking up the stairway with her attorney, the interview with the DA. “We want it known that there will be no favoritism in this case. The law applies to all. People in positions of authority who abuse that authority will be held to account, just like anyone else, and perhaps even more so.”

That hadn’t cheered Priya up much, especially when Sanjay had nodded as the DA spoke. She believed they had both voted for the guy, too.

‘Well, best to get ahead of this,” she thought. She began drafting an email to Fong, telling him, without going into detail, that a personal situation had arisen and she needed to take a leave of absence.

Then, she did perhaps the first smart thing she’d done since this whole situation began, she phoned her lawyer and explained what had happened and what she proposed to do.

“I think that it’s wise to ask for a leave of absence,” Kennedy said. “But I want to review the email before you send it.”

“It’s one sentence. I’ll read it to you.” She read it.

“That’s fine, Dr. Raman. You shouldn’t say any more than that.”

“What if he asks for more details?”

“Check back with me.”

Priya hit “Send”. It was already close to midnight in Trabbia, so she didn’t expect a response for a while, but when she checked back and hour or so later, the reply was there:

I saw the story of your arrest on line. I am shocked at your unethical and criminal behavior, Dr. Raman. I hope the American authorities punish you as severely as the Trabbian ones would. Trabco Pharma cannot afford to have its name associated with such scandals. You are hereby terminated, effective immediately. Please forward all of your work-related files, whether in electronic or paper form, to our offices within 24 hours and delete any copies in your possession. Failure to do so will result in legal action.

“The hypocritical bastard!” Priya exclaimed. During her time in Trabbia, Fong had felt perfectly free to fuck any of the female prisoners that caught his eye, including her, not to mention whipping, caning and otherwise torturing them along with his partner in debauchery, Warden Noba. “Fuck them both!” she said out loud, though no one could hear it.

Now she was unemployed, her life savings in the hands of the court, totally dependent on Sanjay. Needing another legal pickle like a hole in the head, Priya spent the rest of the day copying files onto a thumb drive and angrily jamming paper files into a large box, before calling FedEx to come pick it up. It cost her over $200 of her own dwindling cash reserves to send it to Trabbia. Well, that part of her life was over with very little to show for it.

***​

Stuck at home alone all day while Sanjay worked, with no work of her own to distract her, the next several days passed slowly for Priya. She spent a lot of time cursing herself for her stupidity in not having controlled herself with Susan and her daughter.

She also spent a lot of time thinking about what punishment she might be facing. Prison just seemed too awful to contemplate. An educated professional woman among those drug addicts and gang members was bad enough, but a former corrections officer would be a target for revenge and abuse by most of the prisoners. While fit, Priya wasn’t that physically strong and she didn’t fit into the ethnic groups to which the vast majority of the inmate population belonged, so finding protection wouldn’t be easy.

The prospect of years in prison terrified Priya. She paced the length of the living room, back and forth, trying to calm herself. It was a nice day outside, warm and sunny, if a bit breezy. Her ankle bracelet allowed her to go into her yard, so she paced the line of trees at the edge of the property a dozen or so times, before she went back inside.

Still, her mind was racing. Instead of, or even in addition to prison, she could be facing a caning. She had looked up the crimes she was charged with and it was a possible punishment under the statutes, many strokes if you added the various offenses together. She thought about how it would feel to be processed in the Center where she had worked.

Sue and Beth would be there, of course. Would they feel disgust at what she had done or sympathy for a former colleague? It wouldn’t matter-they would do their job either way.

They would order her to strip, just like they had done with all the other offenders. Priya imagined how it would feel when the order came down. She shivered even though it was warm in the room. Just to make it more realistic, she pulled her T shirt over her head and lowered her pajama bottoms. She was naked now, just like all the women who had visited the center.

She imagined Sue and Beth checking her body out. Perhaps other people would be there, Paul, some of the other bigwigs in the Department, all leering at her, shaking their heads at how she had disgraced herself and brought shame on them.

Sue or Beth would search all her most intimate places. She ran her hands over her breasts, lifting them and squeezing the flesh, probing to make sure nothing was hidden. Her hands lowered to her waist, then below to her pussy. They would certainly want to check there. She inserted two fingers, feeling the seeping wetness. ‘God, I’m a sick puppy to be turned on by these thoughts’ Priya told herself.

And of course they would have to check her ass, too. She grabbed her cheeks, then let her finger stray inside the crack to the small rear hole, fingering the ring of muscle before gently pushing one finger, lubricated with her cunt juices, inside. She knew they wouldn’t be so gentle at the Center.

Then she would have her medical exam, the same exam she had performed dozens of times on frightened women, who hoped against hope that she would find something that would spare them the agony of their caning. Priya knew that her health was good and there would be no relief on those grounds.

The exam would likely be performed by her successor, Dr. Alison Taylor. Priya had met her a few times-a butch-looking woman, pleasant enough with her colleagues, but with a sadistic streak when dealing with offenders, or so Priya had heard. She certainly couldn’t expect delicate treatment from Dr. Taylor.

And then she would be brought, naked, into the punishment room where Beth and Sue would strap her to the flogging frame, bent at the waist, everything on display, her ass presented as a target for George, the one who would deliver the strokes in the only way he knew, full force.

Caught up in the imagined punishment, one which could very well become very real very soon, Priya leaned over the arm of the couch, her ass presented as it would be on the caning frame. She began rocking herself back and forth against the material, feeling the delicious pressure against her clit.

She thought about all the women she had watched caned at the Center-Susan, Rebecca, Rebecca’s classmates, her former colleague from the hospital, Nicky Pennington. All of them melded into her, Priya Raman, suffering her fate on the frame as her excitement mounted to its peak.

Rubbing her crotch desperately now into the arm of the sofa, her legs tense, Priya closed her eyes, held her breath and let the waves of pleasure wash over her. When the orgasm had finally passed, leaving her drained and, at least for the moment, relaxed, she noticed that the area of the sofa she had been rubbing herself against was soaked. She went to get a towel, hoping it would dry before Sanjay got home.
Click to expand...
Wow, Priya`s imagination in overdrive, a full undress rehearsal apart from the painful bit.
 
The next few days passed slowly. When you’ve no work to do, can’t leave your house and have some very legitimate worries about what lies ahead, time passes slowly.

Priya watched some dumb daytime TV, tried to read a few novels that she’d meant to read for some time, though she found it hard to concentrate, paced their yard, took warm baths and spent some time cooking and even trying her hand at baking. Sanjay had taken on a couple of projects that he probably would have turned down had she still been earning a paycheck and she wanted to show him some appreciation.

And, to be truthful, Priya succumbed to boredom and the need for relief sometimes. That is to say, she masturbated quite a bit, to the extent that her pussy was a bit sore from rubbing it. She tried not to think about women, herself or others, suffering on the caning frame as she pleasured herself. Once or twice, she even succeeded at that.

Today was raining hard enough that going out into the yard wasn’t in the program. She idly watched a porno of two women going down on each other, her hand down her pajama pants, stroking her clit gently, enjoying the warm feeling that spread through her groin but not wanting to come just yet.

Just as she was feeling she might give in to the urges, Priya heard her phone’s ringtone. She pulled her hand out of her pants and picked it up. It was her lawyer, John Kennedy.

“Dr. Raman,” he announced. She had said he could call her by her first name, but he seemed to prefer not to. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you in person.”

“You know I can’t leave the house,” she replied.

“Actually, you can to meet with your attorney, but you’d have to call and arrange it ahead of time. It’ll be simpler if I come over there.”

Priya looked at herself. She was wearing just a T shirt and pajama bottoms. She sniffed the fingers with which she had been rubbing her cunt just a moment before, inhaling the musky odor. “Can you give me an hour?” she asked.

“No problem, see you then,” he said. Priya considered whether to finish what she had been doing. An hour was plenty of time, if she got down to it. She clicked on the video and soon felt the tingling sensation, followed a few moments later by the rush of sheer ecstasy. Satisfied, she headed for the shower.

Dressed in jeans and a button down red blouse, the first time she’d worn real clothes since the day she had been booked, Priya felt nervous waiting for Kennedy to show up. So far, there hadn’t been much in the way of good news since Paul’s original phone call, but maybe her luck would change.

Kennedy was dressed the same as always. Priya wondered if he ordered his shirts by the dozen. She offered him coffee, which he accepted. She made herself a tea and they sat at the dining table. “Well, I’ve had a chance to sit down with the Assistant DA and review their evidence,” he began. “It’s largely based on the testimony of Dr. Gelden and her daughter.”

“They are convicted criminals with a grudge against the corporal punishment laws of this state and the people who administer them,”Priya replied.

“Absolutely and that can be used to impeach their testimony. Sure there are two of them, but they have had plenty of time to co-ordinate their stories. Would a jury believe them beyond a reasonable doubt? Very possibly they wouldn’t.”

“So you can get me off?” Priya asked. ‘Maybe there is some good news at last,’ she thought.

“There is one thing that concerns me, though-the very rapid and complete healing of their wounds. One of your former colleagues, a Dr. Taylor, is willing to testify that she has never seen anything like that in her career.”

‘Allison Taylor, that bitch!’ Priya thought. ‘It would be just like her to testify against me.’

“The DA will argue that healing would be consistent with your having given them this cream that your trial is testing and thus corroborates their story.”

“That cream is an experimental drug that the FDA considers of unproven efficacy.”

“The DA’s office got an email from your former boss at Trabco Pharma, Dr. Fong. He is willing to provide them a bunch of data on the cream and even come over here to testify if they want.”

“Shit!” Priya muttered. “That bastard, Fong!” Kennedy looked away. This wasn’t good news after all. “So where does that leave us?” Priya asked.

“We can go to trial and try to impeach their witnesses and evidence. I’ll do my best, but it’s very risky, to be honest. And if you are convicted, you shouldn’t expect any leniency from Judge Powers.”

“Maximum Marty?” Priya gasped. “I thought that woman was the judge.”

“For the arraignment. Powers will be the judge at trial,” the lawyer explained.

“What are my options?” Priya asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“They’ve offered a plea deal,” Kennedy said. “It’s actually a pretty good one.”

“OK,” Priya said, nervously.

“They’re willing to drop the sex charges in exchange for your pleading guilty to official misconduct, two counts. You would have to give up your medical license.” Much as it pained Priya to lose the ability to work in the profession she had spent most of her life devoted to, she had resigned herself to that.

“Yes, I suppose I could live with that” she said.

“You can apply for re-admission after a few years. That’s between you and the Medical Board,”

“I can accept that,” Priya said. While not good news, it was better than she had feared. “So, I won’t have to go to prison?” Priya asked, relieved.

“You will be sentenced to two years, but it will be suspended if you don’t break the law again during that time.”

“I’ll take the deal,” Priya said.

“Wait, there’s more.” Yes, it had sounded too good to be true. “These crimes are too serious to have no punishment and since you won’t go to prison, they are demanding corporal punishment.”

Priya felt her heart thumping in her chest. “You mean caning?”

“Yes, exactly,” Kennedy said. “Caning.”

“How many strokes?” Priya asked, dreading the answer.

“Twenty four.”

Priya thought about that. Twenty four lashes were the maximum that could be given at one session. They weren’t awarded very often; she could only recall two during her time at the Center. She’d had to revive both of them and one was so far gone after twenty that she’d stopped the proceedings. She doubted she could count on such mercy from Allison Taylor.

Priya herself had taken eight strokes in Trabbia and it had been absolutely hellish. The thought of taking three times that was hard to wrap her mind around.

“I don’t think I could take that many,” she told her lawyer, almost bursting into tears at the thought.

“They won’t budge on that. Otherwise, you take your chances at trial and are probably looking at at least ten years if convicted.”

“I will have to think about this,” she said.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “There’s one more thing.”

Priya shuddered. ‘What more could they add on top of twenty four lashes?’ she thought.

“The punishment will be public.”

“Public?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“It will be in the basketball arena.”

“The basketball arena?” she asked. “They’ve never done anything like that before,” she protested.

“I believe they haven’t,” the lawyer said. “But since you were a Corrections staff member before, the DA feels it’s important that justice be seen to be done. The anti-caning activists will be pleased to see that you are not exempt and the pro-caning folks will be able to tout how fair the system is.”

“And the law allows that?”

“The statute simply specifies caning. It leaves time and place up to the Department of Corrections. They are on board with this. I guess they feel you brought shame on the Department and they want everyone to see that you are properly punished for it.”

“And anyone will be able to come and watch? Sanjay, our friends, the neighbors, my old colleagues from the hospital, the checkout girl at the supermarket? And I’ll be naked of course.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Kennedy said.

This was too much for Priya. She began sobbing, great sobs that shook her body. Kennedy looked around for a box of tissues and handed it to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s the best they’re willing to do. My advice is, as awful as it seems, take the deal. I think there’s a very good chance we’d lose at trial and that will be even worse. But it’s your decision. I’ll show myself out.”
 
windar said:
The next few days passed slowly. When you’ve no work to do, can’t leave your house and have some very legitimate worries about what lies ahead, time passes slowly.

Priya watched some dumb daytime TV, tried to read a few novels that she’d meant to read for some time, though she found it hard to concentrate, paced their yard, took warm baths and spent some time cooking and even trying her hand at baking. Sanjay had taken on a couple of projects that he probably would have turned down had she still been earning a paycheck and she wanted to show him some appreciation.

And, to be truthful, Priya succumbed to boredom and the need for relief sometimes. That is to say, she masturbated quite a bit, to the extent that her pussy was a bit sore from rubbing it. She tried not to think about women, herself or others, suffering on the caning frame as she pleasured herself. Once or twice, she even succeeded at that.

Today was raining hard enough that going out into the yard wasn’t in the program. She idly watched a porno of two women going down on each other, her hand down her pajama pants, stroking her clit gently, enjoying the warm feeling that spread through her groin but not wanting to come just yet.

Just as she was feeling she might give in to the urges, Priya heard her phone’s ringtone. She pulled her hand out of her pants and picked it up. It was her lawyer, John Kennedy.

“Dr. Raman,” he announced. She had said he could call her by her first name, but he seemed to prefer not to. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you in person.”

“You know I can’t leave the house,” she replied.

“Actually, you can to meet with your attorney, but you’d have to call and arrange it ahead of time. It’ll be simpler if I come over there.”

Priya looked at herself. She was wearing just a T shirt and pajama bottoms. She sniffed the fingers with which she had been rubbing her cunt just a moment before, inhaling the musky odor. “Can you give me an hour?” she asked.

“No problem, see you then,” he said. Priya considered whether to finish what she had been doing. An hour was plenty of time, if she got down to it. She clicked on the video and soon felt the tingling sensation, followed a few moments later by the rush of sheer ecstasy. Satisfied, she headed for the shower.

Dressed in jeans and a button down red blouse, the first time she’d worn real clothes since the day she had been booked, Priya felt nervous waiting for Kennedy to show up. So far, there hadn’t been much in the way of good news since Paul’s original phone call, but maybe her luck would change.

Kennedy was dressed the same as always. Priya wondered if he ordered his shirts by the dozen. She offered him coffee, which he accepted. She made herself a tea and they sat at the dining table. “Well, I’ve had a chance to sit down with the Assistant DA and review their evidence,” he began. “It’s largely based on the testimony of Dr. Gelden and her daughter.”

“They are convicted criminals with a grudge against the corporal punishment laws of this state and the people who administer them,”Priya replied.

“Absolutely and that can be used to impeach their testimony. Sure there are two of them, but they have had plenty of time to co-ordinate their stories. Would a jury believe them beyond a reasonable doubt? Very possibly they wouldn’t.”

“So you can get me off?” Priya asked. ‘Maybe there is some good news at last,’ she thought.

“There is one thing that concerns me, though-the very rapid and complete healing of their wounds. One of your former colleagues, a Dr. Taylor, is willing to testify that she has never seen anything like that in her career.”

‘Allison Taylor, that bitch!’ Priya thought. ‘It would be just like her to testify against me.’

“The DA will argue that healing would be consistent with your having given them this cream that your trial is testing and thus corroborates their story.”

“That cream is an experimental drug that the FDA considers of unproven efficacy.”

“The DA’s office got an email from your former boss at Trabco Pharma, Dr. Fong. He is willing to provide them a bunch of data on the cream and even come over here to testify if they want.”

“Shit!” Priya muttered. “That bastard, Fong!” Kennedy looked away. This wasn’t good news after all. “So where does that leave us?” Priya asked.

“We can go to trial and try to impeach their witnesses and evidence. I’ll do my best, but it’s very risky, to be honest. And if you are convicted, you shouldn’t expect any leniency from Judge Powers.”

“Maximum Marty?” Priya gasped. “I thought that woman was the judge.”

“For the arraignment. Powers will be the judge at trial,” the lawyer explained.

“What are my options?” Priya asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“They’ve offered a plea deal,” Kennedy said. “It’s actually a pretty good one.”

“OK,” Priya said, nervously.

“They’re willing to drop the sex charges in exchange for your pleading guilty to official misconduct, two counts. You would have to give up your medical license.” Much as it pained Priya to lose the ability to work in the profession she had spent most of her life devoted to, she had resigned herself to that.

“Yes, I suppose I could live with that” she said.

“You can apply for re-admission after a few years. That’s between you and the Medical Board,”

“I can accept that,” Priya said. While not good news, it was better than she had feared. “So, I won’t have to go to prison?” Priya asked, relieved.

“You will be sentenced to two years, but it will be suspended if you don’t break the law again during that time.”

“I’ll take the deal,” Priya said.

“Wait, there’s more.” Yes, it had sounded too good to be true. “These crimes are too serious to have no punishment and since you won’t go to prison, they are demanding corporal punishment.”

Priya felt her heart thumping in her chest. “You mean caning?”

“Yes, exactly,” Kennedy said. “Caning.”

“How many strokes?” Priya asked, dreading the answer.

“Twenty four.”

Priya thought about that. Twenty four lashes were the maximum that could be given at one session. They weren’t awarded very often; she could only recall two during her time at the Center. She’d had to revive both of them and one was so far gone after twenty that she’d stopped the proceedings. She doubted she could count on such mercy from Allison Taylor.

Priya herself had taken eight strokes in Trabbia and it had been absolutely hellish. The thought of taking three times that was hard to wrap her mind around.

“I don’t think I could take that many,” she told her lawyer, almost bursting into tears at the thought.

“They won’t budge on that. Otherwise, you take your chances at trial and are probably looking at at least ten years if convicted.”

“I will have to think about this,” she said.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “There’s one more thing.”

Priya shuddered. ‘What more could they add on top of twenty four lashes?’ she thought.

“The punishment will be public.”

“Public?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“It will be in the basketball arena.”

“The basketball arena?” she asked. “They’ve never done anything like that before,” she protested.

“I believe they haven’t,” the lawyer said. “But since you were a Corrections staff member before, the DA feels it’s important that justice be seen to be done. The anti-caning activists will be pleased to see that you are not exempt and the pro-caning folks will be able to tout how fair the system is.”

“And the law allows that?”

“The statute simply specifies caning. It leaves time and place up to the Department of Corrections. They are on board with this. I guess they feel you brought shame on the Department and they want everyone to see that you are properly punished for it.”

“And anyone will be able to come and watch? Sanjay, our friends, the neighbors, my old colleagues from the hospital, the checkout girl at the supermarket? And I’ll be naked of course.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Kennedy said.

This was too much for Priya. She began sobbing, great sobs that shook her body. Kennedy looked around for a box of tissues and handed it to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s the best they’re willing to do. My advice is, as awful as it seems, take the deal. I think there’s a very good chance we’d lose at trial and that will be even worse. But it’s your decision. I’ll show myself out.”
Click to expand...
Another fantastic episode. The tension continues to build!
 
Good to know that there is a maximum number of strokes allowed in one session. I was concerned for Priya in that regard, so I'm relieved that the Law and the Dept. of Corrections is willing to strike a compassionate balance between the safety and well being of the convict on the one hand, and on the other society's need to witness a hellishly painful ass whipping.
 
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