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 LEGAL DISCLAIMER

   All characters, places and events in this story are fictitious.  Any
similarity to real people either living or dead is purely coincidental.  It
is also important to be aware it is not the author's intention to promote
or condone any activities that would be considered illegal in many parts of
the world.  It should further be noted it is not the author's intention to
provide factual information related to any `alternative sexual lifestyle'
nor educational resources for safe sexual practices.

   The story is intended to entertain open-minded adults and you are
encouraged to read this story with your partner.  No guarantees or
warranties are offered if this story fails to meet your expectations.  All
comments and other feedback is welcome and should be addressed to
slave802120@gmail.com with the subject header `Eastlake'.

   COPYRIGHT NOTICE

   All words and images used to illustrate this story are (C)2005 Ingrid
Hawthorne.  They may be downloaded for private viewing but may not be
reproduced or redistributed in any form without the expressed written
permission of the Copyright owner.

   ==================================================

   Case #802120 - Part 11 - Judas Kiss

   ==================================================

   Jack came down to my cell with my lunch tray as usual and had me kneel
in the slave position on the floor before he'd open the cell door.  I
obediently got down on my knees and placed my hands behind my back.  He
unlocked the steel grill, walked past me and placed the tray down on table
behind me.

   "Are you ready for another slave lesson, Ingrid?" Jack asked, returning
to stand in front of me.

   "Yes," I responded nervously.  I was fairly sure it had been Jack
listening in on my phone call but I wasn't sure whether he was now going to
foil the plan and punish me for it.

   "You visitor has arrived, Ingrid," Jack said, confirming the first of my
fears.

   "Oh?" I tried to make a non-committed sort of reply.

   "You know I could lose my job if The National Confessor published any
photos secretly taken in here?"

   "No..." I mumbled and started to feel very nervous.  His tone didn't
indicate whether he was upset with me or not.

   "Well, I could."

   There was a long silence.

   "I didn't know that," I said by way of apology.

   "It's OK Ingrid.  You weren't to know.  But he's a lawyer and should
know better.  Shouldn't he?"

   "Yes," I answered but still wasn't clear about his intentions.  "So,
what are you going to do?"

   "I like you, Ingrid.  You're very sweet and don't belong in this place,"
Jack smiled warmly.

   I smiled faintly back at him.

   "Obviously, if your attorney doesn't have anything to sell to the
Confessor, your friend isn't going to get his money and you're going to be
stuck in here and, likely, sent to --"

   "Yes.  You don't have to remind me."

   "But he can't just waltz into here with a camera and take photos of you,
can he?"

   "No," I had to agree.

   "But, there is a way..."

   "There is?" I looked hopeful eyes up at him.

   "Yes, but you have to do exactly what I say.  Agreed?"

   "Yes, Jack.  Anything you say."

   "Good girl.  Now listen carefully.  All of the cells, including this
one, are monitored on closed circuit TV.  See that mirror on your wall? 
There's a camera behind it and it's constantly recording you."

   Thoughts of "Big Brother" flashed through my mind.  Jack continued.

   "Let's say the janitor was to come into your cell, tie you up, and have
sex with you..."

   I listened but already I didn't like the sound of his plan.

   "He'd be filmed doing it, right?" he said it as a statement rather than
a question.

   "Yes, but --"

   "You haven't heard me out.  When your lawyer and I come down to your
cell, we catch the guy and I can pretend to apprehend him in the act."

   "And I can have him charged with rape!"

   "Um, no.  Unfortunately for you, because you are already a person of
limited rights, you can't bring charges against anybody.  But your lawyer
is still entitled to try and because of this he'll be granted a court order
to subpoena the video evidence.  Once he has it, the only thing stopping
him from doing whatever he wants with it is his integrity and, if he's
prepared to secretly bring a camera in here..."

   Jack didn't have to finish for me to get the idea.  "What will happen to
the janitor?" I asked, feeling a small twinge of concern for the hapless
fall guy.

   "There'll be an internal enquiry, but ultimately?  The department will
forget about janitor and try and shift the blame onto the lawyer for
leaking the tape to the media.  There'll be a lot of posturing between the
department and the legal fraternity, but it will eventually come to a
stalemate and everybody will forget it ever happened." Jack laughed wryly.

   Except for the unpleasant thought of the janitor part, the plan gave me
a good feeling.

   "OK.  Let's do this," Jack said.  "Are you ready?"

   I took a deep breath.  "Yes, I think so."

   "Good.  Now, in order to make this all look as realistic as possible, I
want you to lie on your bed and pretend you're asleep.  When the janitor
comes in, keep pretending, OK?  You can pretend to stir in your sleep, but
don't open your eyes or resist in any way.

   I nodded slowly at each step of his plan.

   "Good.  Go lie on your bed.  I'll tell him to tie you spread-eagled on
your back, so lie on your back."

   I rested my head back on the soft pillow.

   "Remember, do not resist in any way when he starts tying you.  Let him
tie both your ankles first and wait until he starts binding your wrists
before you wake up and start struggling.  OK?  Maybe if you lie with your
hands up near your head, it will make it easier for him to get at them
without having to struggle too roughly with you.  We don't want him to hurt
you, do we?"

   "No," I shook head slowly from side to side.

   "Good.  Well, I think we're ready.  Just relax and remember, -- "

   "Yes, I know.  I'm asleep," I said and closed my eyes.

   "I'll probably be five or ten minutes explaining it to the janitor, so
you just relax and pretend to be sleeping, Ingrid."

   "OK," I replied.

   My heart was pounding nervously in my chest.  I listened to Jack's
footsteps disappear from my cell and up the concrete stairwell just outside
it.

   He was gone more than a few minutes when I started to feel almost
comfortable and genuinely sleepy.  I let my head loll from one side to the
other, but kept my eyes closed, sighing occasionally -- practicing the
sounds I might make if I really was asleep and dreaming pleasant dreams.  I
almost opened them again when I heard the familiar rattle and clang of the
cleaner's trolley down the corridor and heading my way.  It's noise grew so
loud I almost felt compelled to open my eyes and look, but I kept to the
plan.

   It occurred to me that the cleaner quite probably wasn't particularly
intelligent, and this began to worry me.  The noise grew louder until it
finally sounded like it was right outside my cell door.  I pretended to
stir just a little bit -- enough to turn my face away from the noise.  The
noise stopped.

   My heart pounded heavily in my chest.  I concentrated, listening for the
tiniest sound, but didn't hear a thing.  Nothing.  Then, ever so lightly,
something brushed over the instep of my right foot -- a rope with a loop
tied at its end.  I held my breath when fingers lightly gripped by big toe
and gently lifted my foot from the mattress so the loop would be around my
ankle.  My foot was then carefully lowered back onto the mattress and
another looped rope dropped onto my other foot.  It too was gently lifted
by its big toe and then returned to the mattress once the rope was in
place.

   The pressure of the ropes tightening around my ankles was barely
discernable at first and I imagined if I had been genuinely asleep, I
probably wouldn't have noticed anything at all yet.  Gradually, the tension
increased and pulled outwards on my ankles.  I pretended to stir, just
slightly and pointed my toes slightly as my heels dragged slowly across the
surface of my mattress.  It occurred to me that the ropes on both ankles
seemed to be pulling at the same time, but I kept to the plan and remained
convincingly asleep.

   My legs soon were spread in a position that no longer felt natural and I
expected them to be tethered in that position, but still the ropes pulled.
I moaned softly in my pretend sleep as a signal to the janitor that he
should stop there and turn his attention to my wrists.  When the ropes
continued to stretch me, I wriggled my feet a bit, thinking that might get
his attention without breaking my sleeping pose.  My feet were spread a
certain distance apart and then I felt the cold smooth tubular steel of the
bed-end touch my toes.  I discreetly flapped my feet and wriggled a little
bit on the bed, pretending to almost woken.  My hands at the side of my
head balled into small fists when the ropes jerked and tugged, forcing my
feet out past the cold posts at the foot of the bed.  I squirmed a little,
being careful not to overdo it but enough to inch my body down the bed. 
The insides of my ankles came to rest against the outsides of the bed posts
and then the tugging on the ropes stopped.

   My fake slumber instantly ended when a sharp jolt of the ropes around my
wrists pulled my arms to the top corners of the bed.  I opened my eyes to
see a tall, solidly built man with gingery colored hair and dirty, freckled
face grinning down at me.  He had the ends of both ropes held tightly in
his hands and he leaned over me to tie them off to the metal bedposts above
my head.  I arched my back off the bed and struggled frantically.  He stood
in my line of sight so I couldn't see the mirror.  I prayed the camera
could see how much I was resisting.  I might have screamed as well, but
just as I was about to, the janitor clamped a piece of duck tape over my
mouth.  My eyes bulged as my screams of panic, not being able to escape
through my mouth, welled up in my head.  A second piece of tape pressed
over my eyes, increased my terror tenfold and dread and left the image of
the man, dressed in his dirt stained red flannel shirt and jeans etched in
my mind's eye.

   I continued to twist and squirm as I heard the sound of his clothing
being hastily removed.  A moment later and I felt his weight move onto the
bed between my spread legs.  He dragged himself up onto me -- the
sensations of his hairy body on the smooth skin of the insides of my thighs
strangely arousing, but not enough to diminish my panic.  He wasted no time
positioning his cock up at the entrance of my defenseless pussy, or driving
it deep into me.  My pussy had moistened slightly while he had been tying
me, but it wasn't quiet enough to make his penetration easy.

   His breath smelled of cigarettes and alcohol when he slobbered wet
kisses over my face and neck.  My pussy continued to be pounded roughly and
juices slowly started to flow making his cock now glide with a slipperiness
he sounded like he enjoyed.  He thrashed around on top of me, driving his
cock hard into me.  His hands slid up the insides of my arms and grabbed my
wrists just beneath the place where he'd tied them.  The bed squeaked
loudly with every bounce of his body -- a squeak that resounded through the
corridors outside of the cell.

   The sensations of his tongue on the side of my neck repulsed me.  He
licked around like a dog, concentrating on a section of skin just below my
left ear.  And then, his open mouth clamped onto the spot and started
sucking.

   "Oh my god!" a voice screamed out in my head.  "He's giving me a
disgusting love bite!"

   I could feel the spot burning as he slurped and sucked noisily. 
Flashbacks to childhood and the repulsion I felt when somebody first
explained what love bites were.  "Only a cheap slut would let anybody give
her a love-bite," I was told.  It would become a mark that people would see
for days, if not weeks after this ordeal was over.

   When the man's cock finally erupted in my pussy, it was accompanied by
grunts and curses.  The whole weight of his heavy body rose and fell on me
and knocked the wind out of my stomach.  Tears burned my eyes under the
tape -- another kind of hotness filled the inside of my pussy and soon
leaked out to dribble down between my ass cheeks.  The jerked motions of
his hips became less rhythmic and frequent.  Finally, to my everlasting
relief, his weight lifted from my body and it was over.

   I lay there motionless for a long while and tried to regain some kind of
normal breathing pattern through my nostrils.  The cum that had flooded my
pussy slowly seeped out and made me feel terrible and clammy between my
legs.  The ropes around my wrists and ankles remained tight.  There was no
sound of the man nor, I suddenly realized, anybody else coming to my
rescue. I tried to call Jack's name, but it was mumbled behind the tape
gag.

   It must have been twenty or more minutes before I heard the sound of
anybody.  Footsteps -- more than one pair -- echoed in the concrete
stairwell.  They didn't sound like they were in any kind of a hurry, and
seemed to take an eternity before they finally reached my cell door.  I
craned my head up off the pillow and looked in the direction of the sound
as I screamed my muffled screams for help.

   "What the fuck!" My attorney's voice bounced off the walls around me.

   I continued to struggle and whimper my relief.  Footsteps now rushed to
my bedside.  I wailed a muffled wail as the tape across my eyes was
suddenly ripped off.  My eyes blinked several times to focus in the harsh
light of my cell and then went wide as saucers.  It was my attorney who had
ripped off the tape, but the guard with him wasn't Jack.  The tape from my
mouth was torn free.

   "What the hell is going on here?" the guard barked the question at me.

   "I ...  I ...  somebody raped me!"

   "Who?" my attorney sounded very concerned.

   "I ...  don't ...  um, didn't you see him?" I stammered.

   "Who?  See who?" the two men asked in unison.

   "The janitor!"

   "Who?" The guard asked.

   "The janitor!" I repeated, this time more insistently.

   "There's no janitor working this building today," the guard said.  He
gave my attorney a curious look.

   "But there has to be!  He raped me!" I felt my head swimming with dizzy
confusion.

   "Look, if my client says she was raped, then this has to be treated as a
crime scene," my attorney said firmly.

   "Sure, but I'm telling you, there is no cleaner rostered to work this
building today!" the guard grumbled.  "What do you want me to do about it?"

   "Call the police, dammit!" my attorney was almost yelling at the guard.

   "Shit.  You mean I have to back up them stairs and --"

   "Yes.  Now.  There's cum here between her legs -- evidence.  Now go!" my
attorney's face reddened and his words were punctuated with his spittle.

   The guard rolled his eyes and then trudged out of the cell.  My attorney
waited until footsteps were heard again in the stairwell before he turned
to me.

   "This is great, Ingrid!" he said.  His face was suddenly beaming.

   "What?"

   "Damn!  I mean, this is way better than I was expecting!  Let's get that
tape back on you," he said.

   "No!" I needed to find out what happened to Jack, but it was too late.
Again, I felt trapped and powerless behind the gag and blindfold and heard
the sound of his camera moving all around me.

   "Is that real cum?" the attorney's fingers suddenly dipped into my
pussy.

   "Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!" I nodded furiously.

   "And you were raped?" he asked.

   Again I nodded and tried to scream the word "yes".

   "Wow," he said, sounding slightly disbelieving.  "Really?"

   I detected a light laugh in his voice.  My head fell back on the pillow
and I groaned loudly.  How much more of this humiliation did I have to
take?

   The sounds of footsteps coming down the stairwell again seemed to
distract him.

   "Ow!" I wailed when the gag was removed again.

   "Where's Jack?" was the first thing I asked.

   "Who?" My attorney replied.

   "Jack.  He set this up."

   "He did?  Why?"

   "He overheard Nelson's plan -- about the secret pictures!" I said,
starting to talk in a sing-song voice like it was the most obvious thing in
the world.  "He said he set it up with you --"

   "He did no such fucken thing!" my attorney said.

   His face scowled in a way that made me think his head might suddenly
explode.

   "That cunt!  That sneaky, fucken cunt!"

   I watched my attorney scramble to put away his camera as he rushed to
the cell door.  He almost knocked flat the new guard.

   "Where are you going?" the guard asked as my attorney ran past.

   "Cancel the cops.  The bitch bullshitted us!"

   "Wait!  It wasn't my fault!" I wailed out after him.  "What about me?"

   "Fuck you!" came back the explosive reply.  "Get yourself another fucken
attorney!"

   His final words were left bouncing in the stairwell as his footsteps,
sounding like the clickerty-clack of a locomotive on a railway track as he
rushed away.

   "Lawyers!  Hah!  Ass-holes!" The guard shook his head and was still
shaking it to himself as he untied me.

   "Where's Jack?" I asked, hoping to get a straight answer from somebody.

   "Old Jack?  It was his last day today.  He's now officially retired. 
Lucky bastard!" the guard said cheerily.

   My head crashed back with a soft thud in my pillow.  I rolled my head to
the side and looked across at the mirror on the wall.

   "There's no hidden camera behind that mirror, is there?" I asked. 
Surely, I couldn't be this unlucky!

   The guard glanced over his shoulder at it.  "That mirror?"

   "Would you like me to have one installed for you?" he laughed.  It was
just a little chuckle at first, which grew into a very loud laugh that
shook his large gut.

   "Great!" I mumbled under my breath and then silently waited to be
released completely.