Kate stepped into the courtroom shaking with fear and embarrassment. She hoped the usher would think she was just shivering with cold. The only people present were the magistrate and a clerk and the panelled room seemed vast and intimidating. Although she was there on a trumped up charge, Kate still felt the disgrace of falling foul of the law; it had never happened to anyone in her family before.

Another reason for Kate's sense of shame was the way she was dressed. She had not been given a T-shirt or bra to wear under her prison issue navy blue overalls and the garment hardly covered her nipples let alone the rest of her boobs. The bib of her overalls hung a long way under her neck which she knew revealed her deep cleavage. She replaced one strap which was hanging off her shoulder, but she knew she was hardly decent.

Kate's time on remand had come as a great shock to a girl who had enjoyed private education and a privileged life style. A lot of inmates mocked her accent and found all kinds of ways to humiliate her. Kate found herself rubbing shoulders with women she would never have encountered in her ordinary life. After a time she became worried that she would be coarsened by her contact with them. She was shocked by their obscene language, having been brought up in a home where no-one swore, and their constant crude references to sex. At first she tried to maintain her own standards but this was interpreted by the other women as stand-offish behaviour; she was referred to sarcastically as 'Her Ladyship'. She was bullied by other inmates and some of the staff who, because of her more refined looks and her apparently passive nature, subjected her to sexual assault.

Although there were some salt-of- the-earth girls in the prison, she came to despise almost everyone she encountered. The officers were dim-witted and incompetent to a man. Many of her fellow inmates, covered in tattoos, had no self-respect or the will to resist the drugs which were endemic in the establishment. They self-harmed, cutting their own arms with razor blades and threatened suicide.

The magistrate looked bored. Perhaps he'd dealt with a string of similar offences and was looking forward to a break. It was a long time before he peered at her over the top of his half moon glasses.

'Name?' the usher demanded when he saw he had the magistrate's attention.

'Kate Richer.'

'Charge?' asked the magistrate.

'Breaking the curfew,' announced the clerk.

'Guilty or not guilty?'

'Not guilty,' said Kate in a meek voice.

'Speak up, girl. I can't hear you.'

The magistrate came from behind his desk and studied her carefully, seeming to take a sudden interest. He then embarked upon a long sermon about the need for girls like Kate to forsake their sinful ways and tread the path of righteousness.

Kate deeply resented the implication that she was one of a type, part of a criminal sisterhood, before he knew a single thing about her. He began to quote the scriptures as he looked her up and down. He was almost bald and the little hair he possessed circled his shiny head like a fluffy white tonsure. His gaze alighted on her breasts which Kate was very used to from men. It happened all the time. She was very well endowed, a source of embarrassment to Kate rather than a blessing. However much her friends told her she had tits to die for, Kate's self-consciousness remained.

She wondered if the magistrate was short sighted as well as hard of hearing because he came very close to inspect her, inviting her to tell her story though she doubted he was listening to a single word.

Kate heard the clerk clearing his throat and she wondered if he was signalling his disapproval of how close the magistrate was getting.

She had been a guest at a society wedding reception when she was arrested. The police claimed all the females at the wedding were breaking the curfew because the reception was held outdoors, though there was a marquee, it could be observed by members of the public boating on the river.

Her father and his solicitor had argued in their letters that they were on private land and though the gardens and lawns sloped down to the river and theoretically someone on the water could have seen them, no one had because there never were any boats on that stretch of the Thames.

The new laws decreed that females over the age of fourteen had to vacate public places by nine o'clock in the evening. This and other draconian legislation had been introduced by the New Government which had picked up the agenda of the New Right in America.

Kate heard the magistrate dismiss the clerk and the usher telling them to take a break of half an hour. While she completed her story, the magistrate went over to the heavy panelled door of the courtroom and turned the key behind the departed figures.

Kate tried to put her case without any stridency, speaking quite softly and very respectfully, holding herself 'at attention' with shoulders back and spine straight. It was how he would expect a woman to behave towards a man in authority, cowed, ready to abase herself.

'I may be able to help you,' he said at last, 'if you're a good girl.'

'I try to be, sir. I have always tried to obey the law.'

The magistrate came closer still and fingered one of the clasps on the front of her overalls where the straps hooked onto buttons. He lifted the hook and smiled at her as if playing a teasing game, then detached it completely from the button. The other strap was hanging off her shoulder and he undid the clasp on this one with slightly unsteady fingers. The bib of her overalls flopped down and exposed her breasts completely.

To Kate's horror, he took her naked boobs in his hands, breathing heavily. She felt her flesh creep at the touch of his bony fingers but at the same time she tried not to let her face register her disgust.

'Sir...' She began to utter a faint protest but it tailed away.

'A good girl, Kate. Be a good girl.'

He fumbled for the button at the side of Kate's overall trousers, opened it eventually, and watched them fall to her ankles.

Kate saw sweat bead on his domed forehead as he stared at her luxuriant fox-red bush. He knelt down and pressed his face against her pussy, smelling her with long inhalations of breath.

'Stand with your legs apart,' he told her and snuffled between her thighs to inhale more of the smell of her sex.

Kate's body stiffened with disgust and embarrassment and with fear of what he might do next.

She saw the magistrate was unzipping his trousers and she braced herself for what was likely to follow. A particularly abusive officer in the remand prison had made her suck his cock repeatedly and she hated it, the disgusting taste and the smell, the repulsive salty liquid that flooded her mouth and which she was supposed to swallow or be punished. The remand prison was staffed almost entirely by men, these days few women were appointed to positions of authority and the regime was such that girls like Kate were very vulnerable.

But Kate knew her only chance of escaping a sentence was to co-operate with the magistrate, however disgusting it was letting him so much as touch her body let alone be intimate with her. The only reason she'd fellated the officer was because he'd promised her preferential treatment in the way of avoiding some of the worst chores and being allowed more visits. Keeping contact with her family was important to Kate. Many of the other girls never had visitors. So far there was no news of what happened to her cousin Liz after their arrest.

Kate tried to blank off her mind to what was going to happen to her.

She was saved by a loud knocking at the door and the magistrate moved quickly to adjust his clothes.

When he pronounced a community sentence, she realised she'd been duped again. It was clear to her that even if she hadn't resisted his attempts to use her for his personal gratification, it would have made no difference to her sentence.

***

When she was arrested Kate was put in the back of a police car with her cousin Liz and was driven to one of the police stations in the city. She'd heard stories about the way police officers dealt with young females these days but nothing could have prepared her for what happened. Before they got to the station the two officers drove to a deserted parking lot and told the girls to get out and stand up against the car with their legs spread and their hands over the roof. One officer took Kate and the other took Liz and they ran their hands down their backs and over their bums.

'It's impossible to tell if they're clean with all these clothes on,' said one.

'Knowing what these rich kids are like there's a good chance they've got some sort of dope on them.'

'You'll just have to strip off for us, ladies.'

Kate was wearing a backless party dress and Liz (who was only just turned eighteen) a skimpy skirt and top.

They had no option but to undress in front of the officers who told them to put their gear in the back seat of their car.

Completely naked, they resumed their positions for a drugs search, their backs to the officers. The girls were required to stand with arms raised and legs apart, whilst the officers ran their sweaty palms over every part of their bodies, then, to Kate's horror, they put on latex gloves and probed their intimate orifices with their fingers.

The officer inspecting Kate turned her round and fingered her pussy, all the time staring Kate in the face and smiling, as if challenging her to protest. She tried to suppress her anger so not to give him the excuse to accuse her of 'resisting arrest.' Kate half expected them to produce something wrapped in tin foil to frame the girls; she'd heard that sort of trick was common. If girls weren't careful they ended up with a string of charges.

Their ordeal wasn't over. The officers got in the back of their squad car, throwing out Kate's beautiful dress and the rest of their clothes so they landed in a puddle.

'The young one can jerk us off,' the senior officer announced. Liz was made to sit between them with a stiff cock in each hand and masturbate them whilst Kate was made to watch from the passenger seat.

At the police station, Kate and Liz, still naked, were escorted up flights of steps, along a corridor with dirty paintwork, inadequate lighting, and old-fashioned red fire extinguishers, to a door behind which much noise and laughter could be heard. When an officer opened the door, the cousins were met by a wave of sound. It was obviously the officers' rest room and they were sprawled about, some wearing nothing but shorts, some smoking, some playing cards, empty beer bottles on tables and locker tops.

At the sight of two naked women being pushed into the room, a great cheer went up.

Men cleared a way through, someone placed a chair for them to step on, and they were soon standing on a table surrounded by leering faces. The men shouted crude comments about the size of Kate's tits but she was more concerned for Liz who was in floods of tears and she pleaded for her cousin to be spared further indignities.

'What can you do, sweetheart? Dance for us?'

Someone switched a radio on. Liz was allowed to step down from the table but found herself in the lap of an overweight, unshaven officer in a filthy T- shirt who began to feel her all over.

Kate also noticed some of the men had picked up their canes.

She began to sway her hips to the rhythm of the music, holding her arms above her head, vaguely in the style of a belly dancer.

'Come on, you can do better than that!' someone shouted.

'Make it sexier!' called another.

Despite her intense feelings of shame and embarrassment, Kate knew she would have to abandon her inhibitions if she and Liz were going to survive without much further abuse. She thought of movies she'd seen with harem girls dancing but it needed to be more sexually explicit. How could she please them?

She began to stroke her breasts and tease her nipples as she danced and there was some clapping. 'You've got it, baby!'

She tried using her left hand to caress her breasts and her right hand to rub between her legs and this received loud approval.

Kate ran her hands over her thighs, wiggled her bottom, jiggled her breasts and they began to hand clap. Someone stepped forward and, as Kate bent her body back like a limbo dancer, he poured beer over her pussy. This was greeted with a great cheer which increased when two other men pushed forward to lap up the frothing liquid, turning back to their mates with exaggerated expressions of enjoyment, licking their lips and giving thumbs up signs.

It was hot and claustrophobic in the room and sweat glistened on Kate's creamy white skin.

It was at this point Kate was made to kneel on the table and raise her bottom to receive a caning.

The cop who was orchestrating activities told her to 'get her arse up higher' and Kate placed her forehead on the surface of the table, tucked in her knees and felt her cheeks tighten. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she felt the injustice and embarrassment of the situation keenly. All these men staring at her, laughing and jeering in anticipation of a helpless woman receiving a bare bottom caning. The abuse of power this represented was outrageous; they were unfit to wear the uniform of upholders of the law. They jostled each other trying to stand as close as possible. It seemed corporal punishment was their spectator sport. Kate thought it was likely every attractive girl they arrested was subjected to this kind of abuse.

The self-appointed master of ceremonies drew his cane across her cheeks like a violinist would draw his bow. Then he tapped her taut flesh very gently as if considering his task and how best to execute it. Kate imagined him contemplating where to land the first stroke.

Kate clenched her fist and bit her folded first finger to try to prevent herself screaming out loud when the blow struck. She had always thought she had a high threshold for pain but this would be the test. The police canes seemed very whippy and pliable and she expected the pain to be sharp

She heard herself say, 'Please have mercy.' It sounded so old-fashioned like someone from another age pleading to be spared torture or execution. It brought derision from the assembled officers who mimicked her mercilessly.

Thwack! The cane descended with full force, making Kate jump and clutch her cheeks involuntarily. Several seconds passed before she could make any sound and then her cry was loud and long. Aaaghoowww!!

'No, please,' she begged. 'Please, sir, don't hit me again. I beg you. Please! Please!'

Kate knew she had lost all dignity but didn't care. All that mattered was to stop this happening again. She didn't think she could stand a second stroke.

Tears coursed down her face and those officers watching for her reaction seemed well pleased.

'Get your head down,' she was told. 'Lift your arse up properly'

Kate tried to resist but they forced her back into the same position.

This time she received two strokes almost simultaneously, one delivered by her original tormentor and a second coming from his colleague standing opposite him which meant each of her cheeks received an equal measure of pain.

Kate yelped again and renewed her desperate pleading.

Despite her agony, she had time to think of Liz.

How terrified she must be to think her turn would be next. It would be harder for Liz seeing what a caning from these sadistic monsters was like and then having to face the same treatment.

The strokes were fierce enough to raise welts across her tender flesh - she could tell without putting hands there to feel- and as the caning progressed the ridges criss crossed and at the intersect ions the pain was excruciating and Kate sobbed bitterly.

There was no let up, no sympathy from anyone. No Quasimodo to swing down on a rope to rescue her. There was only laughter and mockery and shouts of encouragement to those flogging her to thrash her more severely. She was utterly at their mercy but there was none shown. Her bottom cheeks were burning hot, ridged, ravaged, brutalised.

Other men came forward to cane her.

It was as though her bottom was free for everyone, there for the officers to improve their caning techniques, hone their skills as floggers. They might as well have been using a block or a bolster or cushion for practice such was their total disregard for her feelings as a woman.

Then Kate had to watch Liz being caned, watch the cruel stripes appear across her soft white skin.

She was so stiff and sore herself she could not move to intervene and she knew she would be foolish to attempt to stop them. But she felt so helpless she wept still more with frustration as well as pain. She should have been able to protect her young cousin but she could do nothing.

Just when Kate thought no more indignities could be heaped upon her, she was ordered to do some open crotch poses. Hardly understanding what they wanted from her, she went down on all fours and presented her ravaged bum to them, reaching back to open her pussy lips with her fingers. More cheers. She turned round to face the main throng, sat down, raised her knees and spread her legs.

'Girl on girl action.'

Liz was hoisted onto the table again still rubbing her crimson bottom.

Kate knew the officers would use their canes on both of them again if they didn't respond so she kissed Liz on the mouth.

'Kiss me back,' she whispered.

Liz returned the kisses somewhat half-heartedly and Kate began to caress her firm breasts and pant as if greatly aroused.

'Sorry, Liz. We've no choice,' she whispered in Liz's ear. 'I'm going to make you lie down and get on top of you.'

When Liz was recumbent Kate pushed her pussy hard against her cousin's and used her hips to make strong pelvic thrusts, crying out to persuade the audience she was in ecstasy.