Chapter Eleven

Karl went to sleep as pleased with himself as he’d been since the accident.

Doreen had not only saved him from the state home and spirited him off to paradise, but her insight into his condition was convincing and her unorthodox therapy and treatment were already having an effect. He was keeping up his end of the bargain too; Nurse Drake was pleased and proud and effusive in her love. Yet the most encouraging development of all was that the huge changes to his situation had not only incidentally resolved his issue with orgasm and intimacy, but they’d shaken him out of his institutional torpor just as he’d hoped.

For a year he’d done little but deteriorate away, going through the motions and taking Doreen shamefully for granted even as she steadily laid claim to ever more of his allegiance. Now he was reanimated and making progress toward recovery at last. And just as his conscious mind had been stirred up, so too had been that represented by his dream world.

The awful repetition, the constancy had finally been broken. New actors and elements were making their appearance. Perhaps his issues truly were on the way to being resolved. For the first time in a year he dropped off confident and defiant, not afraid of the nightly torment should it come. Indeed he was eager to parse it for more clues to an improving condition. As it happened he slept deeply and well for a good long while. Thank the wine perhaps for that. But sometime deep in the trench of the night the dream came for Karl as always. Or was it still even the same dream? His eyes roved behind closed lids as the answer began to play out around him.

“Come on, put it on, we’re going to be late!”

“Wait, why do I have to wear this again?”

Karl wasn’t too keen on surprises like this, or the feeling that he was letting his girl manipulate him into something potentially embarrassing. He had a position to think about.

“It’s a costume party, silly! It’s for people who want to join the new theater group at school. You know how much I’d love to be in that. You have to come and be my prop, share a little of your glamour. We’re a couple, Karl. People expect us to do these things together even if everyone knows you have no interest in acting. That’s what couples do: share interests and experiences and good times.”

“Oh, all right.” Krista’s parents were in the next room, so he couldn’t very well bully or refuse. Still he leaned close to speak just for her. “But we’re coming back early enough to slip into the tree-house for half an hour.”

Krista gave him a maddeningly noncommittal smile but nothing else. She was being uncharacteristically insistent tonight, actually standing up for herself. Karl didn’t like it, but what could he do? Surrendering against his will, he ducked into the bathroom and changed into the striped, old-time convict’s uniform.

For some reason this made him uneasy, though the only laws he’d ever broken involved beer and dope. No one was going to send a white kid to prison for that. When he emerged to see Krista dressed as a sexy police officer his discomfort and foreboding only grew. Nevertheless he was committed, so he allowed Krista to take him in hand and lead him to this party of hers. But when they arrived at its location Karl balked again. This wasn’t a house but a big old meeting hall, all formidable stone with narrow windows. And now Krista wanted to ‘snap the cuffs’ on him before leading him inside.

“Come on honey, don’t you want to make a dramatic entrance? I really need to make a good first impression here!”

“But I’ll look like an idiot!”

“No, you’ll look like a fun guy who’s open to new experiences and loves his girlfriend enough to indulge her once in a while. You’ll look like someone who doesn’t insist on getting his own dang way about absolutely everything every time!”

This shot stung for some reason. Normally Karl just brushed off such complaints. This time however a creeping prescience hinted that she had a point. He sensed that he had to stop being so selfish or he was going to lose her. This was his first serious relationship; perhaps he still had things to learn about how to treat a girl. The thing was, his shoulders were sore already. He didn’t know why, but being handcuffed was bound to make it worse. Then again, it was only for a few minutes. Yet if he was going to give in on this, he was going to make damn sure they were out of there in time for a tree-house tryst afterward.

After extracting this promise Karl at last let Krista put the handcuffs on him. As she locked his wrists behind his back that weird foreboding rose again, this time worse than ever.

Something bad, maybe even terrible was going to happen. He needed to warn Krista. Something about this party and even his plans for the tree-house after were just inviting disaster. His sexy captor was already in character though. Adopting a remote, coldly smiling authority she grabbed his arm and marched him to the door like a miscreant. She pounded loud on this. It opened, but no sound of music or merriment came out – only an ominous murmuring. Karl had just enough time to wonder what kind of costume party this was as he was being shoved over the threshold and hauled inside. Then the door slammed behind him. Heavy bolts were thrown. As Krista frog-marched him victoriously forward again it dawned on Karl that he’d been duped.

This wasn’t a meeting hall but a courthouse. This wasn’t a party but some kind of trial. And he wasn’t merely costumed as a prisoner, he actually was one. He’d been brought here to answer for his crimes against Krista.

With barred windows narrow as loopholes, the cavernous courtroom was all old stone lit by the light of blazing torches. This was terrifying enough. But it was also peopled entirely by females. Scanning the crowded galleries and packed jury box, Karl saw only women and girls, all as lovely as they were hostile. Amazingly he recognized many of those scowling or jeering down at him. Classmates and teachers from school, porn models and TV personalities, they were all people he’d lusted after at one time – and still did. Beyond all the beauty and vituperation arrayed against him Karl was stunned to see bare breasts everywhere, and indeed plenty of other skin. It seemed every last woman present was dressed (usually quite scantily) as a dominatrix.

Leather and steel, vinyl and latex, draping chains and high shiny boots, each outfit was designed to intimidate as much as arouse. And of course each angry beauty brandished an implement of discipline of some kind. He saw paddles, riding crops, canes, whips of every description and even bicycle chains. Electricity crackled here and there as tasers were triggered in anticipation and Karl cowered helplessly under so much pitiless misandry. To the ache in his shoulders and cuffed wrists however was soon added a hugely demeaning but somehow woefully familiar pain in his penis.

Fury rippled anew around the gathering as the cheap striped trousers he wore jutted out ever more impudently in front. It was insane, but he was getting turned on by this mortifying predicament. What the fuck was wrong with him? But then a gavel banged loudly and a cold voice (he recognized its timbre if not its tone) called out over all the hissing and angry muttering that had greeted his appearance – and that of his erection.

“Bring the criminal forward!”

Refusing to meet his gaze and now sneeringly furious herself, Krista jerked Karl rudely into motion again. She propelled him up onto an open dock where the jury and surrounding galleries could pour their hate and anger directly down upon him. Yet it was the sight of the potentate presiding here that sent a walloping shock of shame, terror, lust and subservience through a confused and still naïve young Karl Jensen.

The woman behind the towering bench was about thirty, with honey-colored hair and large dark eyes. The face was flawlessly lovely and hauntingly familiar. Set in lines of stern disapproval, it at least lacked the open animosity of all the others. Strangely enough this judge wore not traditional black robes or even some kinky leather outfit like all the others. Instead she was dressed in an ordinary nurse’s uniform. She even had a stethoscope about her neck.

That was reassuring if bizarre. Still she was womanly wisdom and authority personified and Karl immediately sensed that if there was any hope for him here it lay with her. Yet none of this could explain his complex and automatic reaction to her.

He must know her from somewhere. His lust and worship were too instinctive, as was his terror of her displeasure and craven need to please her. Yet try as he might he couldn’t place her, and not a flicker of recognition or favor leavened her solemn condemnation as she pinned him squirming below her with a magisterial gaze.

“Criminal, you are brought before this court to answer for your many shocking sins against the Goddess. Let the complainant make her case.”

Still refusing to look at him or in any way acknowledge the love he’d always been so arrogantly assured of, Krista at last dropped his arm. She stepped away a pace, distancing herself from his despicable person and pointing an accusatory finger at him as she addressed the judge, jury, and gathered representatives of femininity.

“Sisters, this male is guilty beyond endurance! He is an habitual bully, browbeating me into submission over the least trifle and failing to show me the respect and worship I deserve. He is uppity and disobedient. Worse, he has failed to satisfy me sexually while being driven to unimaginable evil by his own impudent lusts.

“He refuses to take his rightful place on the bottom for intercourse. He also demands oral service while refusing to provide any. He has never given me a single orgasm!”

Cries of anger and affront broke out everywhere. Snarls of rage and demands for castration and death came from the galleries and even the jury box. Still Krista’s voice rose above all in strident denunciation.

“Hear me sisters! There is far worse! This contemptible male plans to risk my life in the name of his selfish lust. He has insisted we leave here early with a drunk and irresponsible youth at the wheel just so he can fuck me. In fact he fully intends for me to die rather than risk his delusional male self-image by doing what it takes to sexually satisfy me. He means to send me to my death without ever having climaxed. Yet even this is not the worst!”

Even as Karl was goggling at the revelatory enormity of his crimes, his horribly betrayed, justly furious former girlfriend stepped back up and yanked his pants down around his ankles. The sight of his penis (now in greater agony than even his shoulders) standing arrogantly forth horrified Karl and brought a roar of outrage from all around. Again Krista’s condemnation overtopped everyone however.

“Even brought to trial for his sins at last this inexcusable criminal still lusts after the sacred sex! It dares to flaunt its organ of sin before us! It still wishes to fuck every one of us! Let justice be done upon it!”

An explosion of concurrence beat Karl to his knees. Yet even as he hung his head and wept with guilt and remorse, his cock continued to yearn suicidally upward. Finally a banging of the gavel tamped the communal execration down to a seething, bloodthirsty sense of expectation. The presiding goddess (Nurse Drake was her name, Karl suddenly knew this, though not how) pronounced sternly down from her mahogany eminence.

“Very well. The criminal’s guilt is self-evident. Let the jury pass sentence.”

The forewoman who rose was unmistakably Angelina Jolie., her exquisite loveliness somehow enhanced by the abomination raging from her.

“Your honor, we condemn the criminal to impotence and execution. Let it be taken to this tree-house. As the offended female, let Krista be the one to unman it. Let her put the noose around its neck and push it through the trapdoor. And let its body dangle and rot forever as a warning to other selfish, bullying, disrespectful males!”

Another roar of acclamation seemed to raise the roof. Savagely celebratory, the desired ones stomped their feet, shook their implements of discipline and screamed their righteous despite at him. Cowering still agonizingly panhandled, terrified and yet in frantically penitent embrace of his sentence, Karl peeked meekly up from his knees at Krista towering over him.

Angry vindication infused her, bringing an unbelievably gorgeous flush to that always so innocent and conciliatory prettiness. Already she held up a gleaming new pair of garden shears. Huge razor-sharp blades opened wide to amputate.

In a rapture of both anguished remorse and suicidal arousal, Karl immediately collapsed back belly-up before her. Splaying his legs like a placatory bitch, he lifted his hips in an ecstasy of atonement, eagerly offering his agonized vulnerability to her revenge. His guilty prick ached upward ever harder as those blades bracketed it and strong young muscles tensed on the handles. But then this most welcome apotheosis was put off.

“Hold, sisters!”

The gavel was banging again. Karl sought out his savior in dismay. The sooner Krista chopped him, the sooner she could noose him and push him out of the tree-house, the scene of so many of his unforgivable crimes. How he needed to see the triumph in her eyes as she did so! Then, crimes paid for in full, he could finally have a brief split-second without horror, guilt, remorse, and self-hatred before his neck was blessedly snapped.

“I have not yet made the sentence official.”

Of course it was Nurse Drake, and even in his mania for abnegation Karl instantly deferred to her power over him. The faint smile she bestowed from above redirected his rapture effortlessly. Though Krista waited, blades poised, his mad conviction faltered as his fate was cleverly altered.

“I judge this sentence premature.

“The male is young enough that rehabilitation might be possible despite its crimes. It was arrogant and selfish, mean and stupid and lustful and reckless. It failed egregiously to show proper deference to femininity. But it was not truly malicious, and it shows a remarkable eagerness to atone. I will postpone sentence for a year to explore this possibility.

“Let the male be taken to the dungeon. Let all the women inflict the Goddess’ vengeance on it. Let it be beaten and degraded, bound and tortured and kept in impotence, educated and brutally used for feminine pleasure throughout the year. Then if Krista is satisfied and pronounces her forgiveness he may go free to serve women in appropriate gratitude and humility. If she deems him still a criminal however, then the sentence will be carried out.”

Again the mob roared, this time with wicked laughter.

Clearly they thought this was just an additional sentence, and that after they all enjoyed torturing him to madness for a year they would still see him gelded, chopped and hung. As one they swarmed down upon him and lifted him up, still handcuffed, hobbled by his pants, splay-kneed and throbbing with terrible need. Krista disappeared into their midst. Raised above their shoulders like a football hero, Karl was immediately carried off toward the dungeon.

“Good luck, little slut. I believe in you.”

Somehow Nurse Drake’s quiet encouragement reached him through the lustful, sadistic cacophony of the mob. That unexplained love for her bloomed again. Bolstered, Karl faced forward with surprising fortitude as he was transported suspended in midair toward the black throat of an approaching stairwell. Here it came, he was disappearing into the dungeon for an entire year, and he had sacred Nurse Drake to thank for the privilege…

Karl came awake quietly in the dark. His shoulders were indeed very sore, and not just the one he was lying upon. His penis ached with the frustrated, cramped pain that seemed to define him these days. Yet his eyes were dry and the usual emotional turmoil absent.

He hadn’t even disturbed Doreen: her body was still snuggled lovingly against him. Her slow, deep breath stirred the hairs on his neck. Though his hands were half numb from being bound for hours he could still feel the smooth skin of her thighs and the damp heat of her center against them.

Pleased that he hadn’t awakened her but conscientiously aware that he owed her a complete report on this latest development, Karl spent several minutes recounting the dream to himself. Wracking his memory for every detail so he wouldn’t forget, he also took stock of his emotional state: calm yet quietly excited that the dream had evolved so much, that his subconscious was already taking their chosen treatment into account. Intellectually he still despised himself but he wasn’t wracked by the usual anguish. Of course he was still completely paralyzed; he couldn’t even wiggle a finger to reverently stroke the vagina he’d just spent so long smothered under. That was okay though. Once the dream-Krista declared herself appeased he should be able to forgive himself too. Increasingly confident that the year ahead would see to that, Karl soon drifted off again, still reciting the dream’s particulars to himself.