LAKEWOOD'S COSTUME SHOP II: TO SERVE THE PEOPLE by Joe Doe She didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Truly she didn't. She had selected the bag with the red star and the motto, "Serve the People" because it seemed stylish and chic. It wasn't her fault that 69,000 people had died in some stupid old South American country when Maoist rebels led an uprising. Like that was HER problem? Just because she was one of the most beautiful woman in the world, and one of the highest paid stars in Hollywood, the press was on her back constantly! She did serve the people! Didn't they understand her wonderful movies were a public service? Speaking of the press, she knew the photographers would go nuts when they saw her in her cute-as-a-button Halloween cheerleader outfit. Take that, Brittany! But as she opened the costume box in the dressing room of the Lakewood Costume Shop, she was puzzled. Work boots, socks, and rope? This wasn't a cheerleader outfit. The room FLASHED! with purple lightning. ****************************** The courtroom was hot, dusty, and crowded. The beautiful starlet squirmed as the 3 military officers sitting in judgment over her ogled her shapely figure. The Colonel smiled as he read the verdict. "You have been found guilty of class exploitation and crimes against the people. You will find your new life, my ladyship, much less comfortable than the pampered existence you led in your hacienda!" The courtroom tittered. She was confused. What was he babbling about? Where was she? What had she done? She squinted. The Colonel presiding over the court bore a striking resemblance to the Mexican handyman she had had deported a few weeks earlier, when he had asked for a raise. The two guards standing at either side reminded her of the two men who cleaned her pool. What was happening? Where in hell was she? "We sentence you to five years' service to the people!" The gavel slammed down, and the courtroom erupted into wild cheers. The Colonel walked over to the starlet and casually fingered the soft material of her stylish white dress. "This is very pretty, my dear, but quite inappropriate for the work you've been assigned." He turned to the sergeant who was guarding her and handed him a box. "See to it that her ladyship is properly dressed for the people's parade." She shivered. It was the costume box from the store. Her white designer dress was beautiful, but, as the guards explained, it was, like her money and her estate, being seized as "the property of the people." So, walking towards the front door of the courthouse, flanked by a squad of soldiers, her hands tied behind her back with the coarse rope, she wore her new outfit: work boots, white socks...and nothing else. The sunshine was bright, and she squinted as the soldiers marched her out the front door and down the stairs, naked for everyone to see. The noise from the crowd was deafening. "Pretty puta!" "Look at those long legs! When she puts those feet in the air, it will be quite a ride." "What a pretty honey pot! I can hardly wait to see it in the window." Traffic was stopped. They marched down the center of the street, the crowds laughing and jeering, her nipples hardening in the breeze. "What a pretty mouth! I can hardly wait!" "I'm going to bend her over, with those cute little buns in the air." "Yeah, I bet the little piggy will squeal when you pork her from behind." The crowd grew as the humiliation parade continued through the town. To the pretty star, the "parade" seemed endless. Although the town was strange, she recognized the jeering crowd. The bellboy from Four Seasons...the waitress from her favorite Mexican restaurant...the men who drained the cesspool at her summer house in Hawaii. Everyone who had ever served her was there, laughing, jeering, taunting. She stared down at the ground, avoiding their gaze. SWISH! She drew one knee up in the air as the sergeant slashed his riding crop across her delectable backside. "Eyes front, puta!" he sneered. "Let the people see the blushing face of the exploiter of the people. Look the proletariat in the eye." She lifted her chin high, and made eye contact with each of the men and women who heckled her. "Whip her pampered ass!" "Make her dance!" "Get used to it, chica. They will spank you for far less where you're going." "Don't worry, she's a frisky bitch. She'll pant like a dog, and beg for more." At last, they arrived. She sighed, relieved the parade was over. Her relief was short-lived. They placed her on a shelf in a picture window, her legs spread wide, a large white card marking her price: 3 soles nuevos A little less than a dollar. A dozen other prostitutes sat in the window with her, but the boisterous crowd was focused on her. "How do you like your new job?" "Now it's our turn to go shopping!" "What does it feel like on the other side of the glass?" "It's going to be quite a change for you, working for a living." "Do you like your new job?" "She hasn't even started yet!" Her legs were spread wide, and the overhead fan kept her nipples hard. Oh, how she wanted to close her legs. But instead she squirmed on her freshly whipped bottom and endured the sneering appraisals of her anatomy. "Here pussy, pussy, pussy!" "Look at that slot! I bet she's squeezes you like a rubber band." "She won't stay tight for long." "Don't worry, I talked to Jose. I'm near the top of the list. I'll get her by noon tomorrow, at the latest." She didn't have long to wait. Her first customer was the Mexican from the store who hauled in her groceries. They did it on a mat on the floor, as the waiting customers cheered her on. As her pimp had ordered, she wrapped her legs around him tightly, and grunted, and wiggled around on her freshly spanked bottom as her customer gave the beautiful young starlet an unforgettable reminder of just how degrading some "work" can be. The next customer, a toothless old man who had once dug the holes for the massive fence around her estate, used her mouth, while she gave his friend a quick hand job. The homeless man whom she recognized from Hollywood Boulevard kept his promise, and she squealed and grunted as he took her from behind. How many were there? Ten? Twelve? Her rest period was spent in the window, with her creamy pussy again on display for everyone to see. They laughed at her humiliation, jeering at the sperm in her hair, her face, and her hot, wet pussy. She was almost relieved when her pimp pulled her back to the floor. Once again, it was time for her to serve the people. HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Edited by C. Lakewood