Allison's Addiction Ch. 03

I was formulating the perfect words to use for my request, when I got a text message from Chloe.

I glanced at my phone. The text message asked me if I was doing my abdominal exercises.

I sighed and set my phone back down. I decided that I could ignore Chloe for a while, and I went back to sipping my coffee.

Then Natasha got a text message.

Natasha read the message on her phone. Then she looked at me and said, "Chloe wants to know if you're doing your ab exercises."

"What?" I asked, somewhat taken aback, "You're her spy, now?"

Natasha just sort of shrugged.

"Just text her back and tell her I'm doing them," I said.

Natasha shrugged again, set her coffee down and texted Chloe back. For a few seconds my gambit to get Chloe off my back seemed to be working. Then, Natasha got another text.

"Now, she says she wants me to send her a picture of you doing your ab exercises."

Natasha just looked at me for a while, waiting for me to respond. Natasha was a pretty good friend, but she considered Chloe to be a friend as well. She wasn't going to lie to Chloe forever for me. Natasha's face wasn't even remotely hostile, however, if I didn't start doing ab exercises soon, Natasha was certain to text Chloe back and tell her I wasn't doing them.

I let out a heavy sigh, went over to my exercise mat and started doing hip thrusts. Natasha took a few pictures of me as I exercised my core muscles and sent them off to Chloe. After doing a hundred reps, I asked Natasha if I could stop.

"Chloe says that if you stop, I have to text her back and let her know that you're slacking."

"Gee, thanks a lot, Nat," I said, and then went back to work.

"Chloe says that it's all part of your experiment," Natasha retorted, "I don't quite understand how this experiment works, but I don't want the results to be corrupted. You'd probably have to start all over again from the beginning."

After thirty minutes of hip thrusts, I then was instructed by text to do ballet twists. Natasha took photos of me again and sent the photos to Chloe. After an hour or so I took a break. Then I was instructed to start doing some plank exercises. To my surprise and chagrin, Natasha came over and ran her hands along my bowed body while I held it off the floor. Sensing my surprise at her tactile examination of my body, she explained that she was only following Chloe's instructions to make sure that I was performing my exercises correctly.

Natasha kept taking photos of me and sending the photos to Chloe. At some point it dawned on me that Natasha and Chloe now had a collection of nude photos of me on their phones. What were they going to do with those photos? Who was going to see them?

Natasha stuck around for hours. By the time she left, I was slick with sweat, my abs sore, and Natasha had about sixty or seventy nude photos of me on her phone. I groaned when I got up from the floor and wondered if all of this was worth it.

* * * * *

When Chloe got home I was still naked. The new rules meant that I had to be naked 24-hours a day, seven days a week. The only time I could wear clothes, was if I left the apartment.

Chloe's eyes traveled across my naked body, taking in my sore abs, my exposed pubic lips, my dancer's legs and my bare breasts with my erect, chronically stimulated nipples. Somehow, her hungry gaze made me feel even more aroused. I was somewhat confused by that. Was my arousal brought on by some sort of hidden fetish buried deep within my subconscious or was it due to the chemicals of the modirall effecting my limbic system?

Well, I only had enough modirall to last a few more days, so I guessed I'd be finding out soon enough.

Unless Natasha could get me some more.

I filed that idea away for later, and asked why Natasha had a key to our apartment in the first place.

"So, Nat says that you gave her a key to the apartment," I accused.

"Of course," Chloe said, seemingly oblivious to my disapproval, "I can't be here twenty-four hours a day, and if I left you alone, you'd be tempted to break the rules. You'd start wearing clothes or masturbating or something. It seemed to make sense that I make a few extra keys and hand them out to a few friends and ask that they check up on you from time to time."

I plucked a few important key words out of Chloe's response and then said, "Wait! Keys? Friends? As in plural? As in more than one?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow at me and then went into the kitchen and began preparations for dinner. I followed her into the kitchen and then she replied, "Yes, keys plural. Obviously, I gave one to Nat. She told you about that this morning. However, I also gave one to Amy. I had a couple more made, and I'll be giving those to Summer and Hannah."

I didn't really like Hannah; however, I didn't mention that out loud. Instead I said, "Who the hell is Amy?"

"Amy Laughlin," Chloe elaborated, "She lives just down the hall in apartment 420."

I took a few seconds to think about that. Chloe's answer had jogged my memory a little bit. Amy Laughlin was a high school teacher. She didn't work during the Summer, so she'd have a great deal of time to come over and supervise me until the schools reopened.

I barely knew Amy. I'd seen her in the lobby before, and I'd passed her in the hallway a few times, but we weren't friends. I was surprised that Chloe would give her a key to our apartment and tell her to come over and supervise me while I was stark naked.

"Amy isn't a friend," I protested, "We barely know her."

"Oh, I've talked to her a few times," Chloe countered, "She's divorced, her ex-husband is a jerk, she's thirty years old, her father is a detective with the Fairhaven Police Department, she's a huge fan of Laurell K. Hamilton, and she voted for Hillary Clinton in the last election. She thinks that public school teachers are underpaid, and she hates Betsy DeVos."

I blinked a few times while I formulated how to respond. I didn't realize how much time Chloe had spent with our neighbor. Apparently, I had missed a few details in Chloe's life.

"Um, okay," I finally said, "It sounds like you know her well, but she's still little more than a stranger to me."

Chloe waved her hand dismissively and said, "Oh, I think you'll get to like her. Just give her a chance. She's good people."

I rolled my eyes but didn't argue. Arguing with Chloe was like trying to sprint up an avalanche. You could put in a great deal of effort trying, but the result was usually extreme exhaustion and abject failure. I opted to just skip the extreme effort and the severe exhaustion and surrendered to failure right away.

I gave up arguing, but I knew this was going to be degrading for me. Chloe and Natasha were friends of mine and walking around naked in front of them was humiliating enough. Being naked and exposed in front of a virtual stranger was going to be even more emotionally crushing.

There was a soft, wet throb in my loins as I thought about my naked body being on display for Amy. What was happening to me? Where were these feelings coming from? I didn't ask for them, and now here I was, facing the humiliating prospect of exposing the most intimate parts of my anatomy to a middle-aged school teacher, and I was getting a dark, libidinous thrill somewhere deep down inside my groin.

These thoughts made me confused and uncomfortable. Getting a sexual thrill from having my naked body placed on display for friends and strangers was known as exhibitionism. It was a sexual kink. I had never been into anything kinky before. Why was kinky stuff becoming part of the equation now?

I tried to erase all these thoughts from my head and focus on something else.

"So, did you hear that Nat has an internship with Brie Pharmaceuticals?" I asked.

Then came my follow up question, "If I asked her very nicely, do you think I could get her to steal about four weeks' worth of modirall and bring it over here?"

It seemed like a good idea to me, but Chloe had different ideas.

"Absolutely not," Chloe replied, "In fact, it'd be best if you never even brought the subject up with her."

"I'm not so sure," I ventured, "I mean, if she's and intern, they'll likely introduce her to everyone that works there, and acquaint her with every department. Wherever they keep the modirall, Nat will almost certainly see it."

"Allison," Chloe snapped, sounding quite displeased, "Nat has been handed a great opportunity with this internship! And if she gets caught stealing drugs from Brie pharmaceuticals, it's an opportunity that's going to blow up in her face! If you talk Nat into stealing from them, and she gets into trouble because of you, I'll have to punish you for it."

"Punish?" I asked, "You mean like, you'd-?"

"I'd punish you," Chloe said, cutting me off in mid-sentence, "Never mind how, but I'd punish you severely. So, don't screw up Nat's internship, and you won't have to find out just how unpleasant a punishment from your sexual trainer could be."

* * * * *

I had four or five wet dreams that night, but the one that I remember the most vividly was the one that dealt with Chloe's promise to punish me if I screwed up Natasha's internship.

In my dream, two tall, stern-looking women ordered me to strip. They had guns, badges and were wearing grey and black uniforms. They claimed to be bailiffs and informed me that I needed to be strip-searched.

I was stripped naked, thoroughly and intimately probed and examined, however, they found no contraband on me. Then, one of the tall, strong women took me by the arm and led me into a courtroom. Chloe was sitting high above me in the judge's seat. There were twelve men and women in the juror's box, looking me up and down appreciatively. There was even a stenographer who gave me a long, lingering look. Of course, I was naked. It seems that I'm always naked these days.

"The accused is here," Chloe said after I was ushered inside, "The trial of Allison Brand can now begin. The accused will place her hands behind the back of her neck."

I obeyed without even thinking. It seemed that independent thought wasn't even an option. I just did as I was told, as if my body existed only to obey Chloe's commands.

"Elbows back," Chloe ordered with stern authority, "breasts thrust forward, legs spread wide, wider! That's better! Now, the accused will maintain that pose until the jury has reached a verdict."

"Yes, your honor," I replied to Chloe. I was naked and being ordered about like a disobedient slave, however I didn't feel outraged at the way I was being treated. Somehow it felt acceptable and normal that Chloe was treating me this way. I felt no urge to ask for leniency or mercy.

Hannah Richter was the prosecuting attorney. She jumped right into her role of painting me as guilty as a cat caught in a goldfish bowl.

"Nat, why you tell us how things worked out when you attempted to steal experimental drugs from Brie Pharmaceuticals?" Hannah prompted. A quick glance to the left of Hannah showed me that Natasha Sorokko was sitting in the witness box.

"I got caught with about three-dozen pills in my purse," Natasha explained, "I talked them out of pressing criminal charges, however, I've lost my internship, and I'm banned from ever setting foot in their corporate offices ever again."

"She lost her internship," Hannah reiterated to the jury, "And now she's banned from every working at Brie Pharmaceuticals. Such a black mark will not look good on Ms. Sorokko's resume."

Hannah continued to ask Natasha questions. Of course, she asked Natasha why she was stealing drugs from Brie Pharmaceuticals. And Natasha readily answered that it was my corrupting influence that led her astray and compelled her to break the law.

I noticed that whenever Hannah wasn't directly addressing the jury, or directly asking Natasha a question, she would allow her gaze to drift back towards me. She would look my naked body up and down as if she were auditing all my naked charms.

I also noticed that a female juror with an oval face and high cheekbones kept staring in my direction. She gave me a look like I was the most delicious thing on the menu, and she just wanted to eat me up.

Both of these women were objectifying me with the way that they openly stared at my exposed pubic lips and my naked breasts. It was humiliating the way they fixedly focused their gazes on the most intimate parts of my anatomy, and I felt my face burn hot with mortification, however, I also felt a shiver of excitement run through me at the way I was being debased and abused.

I was naked and helplessly on display, and these women were taking advantage of me by ogling my helpless nudity. Why did their bold appraising looks excite me so? Why did the wet throb in my loins become so much more intense every time one of these women fixed their smoldering gaze of my helplessly exposed naked body?

When Hannah was done questioning Natasha, another witness was called to testify against me, and I was forced to stand naked with my genitals indecently on display the entire time Hannah questioned her. And when Hannah was finished building her case for my guilt, the judge then announced that it was time for the jury to render a verdict.

"Wait," I exclaimed, sounding panicky and frightened, "Isn't there a lawyer here to defend me? Hannah was the prosecuting attorney, where's the defense attorney?"

"Oh, that," the judge said, as if the idea of having a defending attorney at a trial was an obscure notion, "I discovered that when I allow the defendant to have an attorney, it makes these trials drag on forever. The prosecuting attorney and the defense attorney spend hours arguing and trying to poke holes in each other's arguments. Without defense attorneys slowing things down, I can usually get six or seven court cases dealt with before lunch."

"Wait! What?" I exclaimed, "How is that fair?"

Chloe made a dismissive noise and replied, "Fair? I don't care if it's fair or not. I care about making sure I don't have a backlog of cases. Getting rid of the damn defense lawyers has sure made my life easier. And the jurors seem to like it too."

Several of the jurors murmured in agreement. A few of them nodded in seeming approval of this unfair, yet, more efficient system.

I was forced to stand there naked, with my legs far apart, and my swollen labia exposed while the judge, jury and prosecuting attorney praised this unfair system. Then the jury then proceeded to vote on the verdict. They didn't even go into a separate room, they just discussed the merits of the case right in front of me.

The judge was correct. Without a defense attorney trials can conclude very rapidly. The jury found me guilty within less than two minutes.

"Allison Brand," the judge said officiously, "this court finds you guilty of the crime of ruining Natasha Sorokko's future employment prospects. If not for your bad influence, she might have had a productive career in the pharmaceutical industry, earning hundreds of thousands of dollars, plus retirement benefits. Now, she has nothing."

"I'm sorry," I protested, "I really, really am!"

"Silence," the judge admonished me, "I'm still talking."

Then she proceeded to sentence me.

"You should get at least twenty years in prison for this," Judge Dechert opined, "however, our prisons are already overcrowded. I am therefore sentencing you to an over the knee spanking of forty-seven swats, to be administered by Ms. Santino."

Apparently Ms. Santino was one of the courtroom bailiffs. She stepped forward and escorted me to an old, wooden chair that had been placed near the jury box. Once she was seated in her chair, I was prompted to lie across her lap and place my palms flat upon the floor.

"Wait," Natasha protested, "Why does the bailiff get to spank her? I'm the injured party! Shouldn't I be the one to punish her?"

I moaned at the thought of being publicly spanked by my teenage neighbor. Somehow having my bare ass spanked by Natasha felt more shameful and humiliating than being spanked by dispassionate, phlegmatic employee of the state.

"Ms. Santino is a trained professional," Judge Dechert explained impassively, "She's punished hundreds of naked defendants. She knows what she's doing. You may be the wounded party, however, you're also inexperienced and too emotionally involved in this case to do a professional job of meting out Ms. Brand's punishment."

Natasha argued passionately with the judge. Eventually, Nat managed to convince Judge Dechert to alter my sentence. My sentence was changed to a spanking of eighty swats, with Ms. Santino delivering the first forty swats, and Nat delivering the last forty.

Before my punishment began, I noticed that the court stenographer had stopped typing and was clearly checking me out. I felt my face grow red hot with embarrassment. I was in a vulnerable position, with my bare butt raised high in the air, ready to be victimized by the bailiff's stinging right hand, and the stenographer's eyes were running up and down my naked body like I was the most delicious thing her young eyes had ever beheld.

She licked her soft, moist lips and stared at me with rapt attention, clearly enjoying the view. I felt that her blatant interest in my naked body was inappropriate, however, I said nothing.

Full disclosure, even worse than saying nothing was the way I felt when the stenographer fixedly gazed at my naked body with obvious lust. I got a funny feeling in my stomach, there was a stirring in my lower parts, and there was a familiar throbbing in my clit.

I've always been a proper young lady. I've never exposed my nude body in public. I've never even done nude modeling before, and believe me, I've had offers!

And yet, I found myself having a very improper stirring in my loins as this young stenographer took advantage of my situation and ogled my naked body. Why would being ogled by strangers stir up my libido in this way? I found the whole situation to be confusing and disturbing.

"This is going to hurt, Ms. Brand," the bailiff informed me as she readied her right hand to begin assaulting my bare buttocks. My entire body tensed up and I held my breath as I awaited my fate.

The sharp and daunting slaps that rained down on my poor bottom were far more painful than I had anticipated. I gasped, and one of my hands reflexively found itself raised up off the floor and shoved into a protective posture over my bottom.

"Using your hands to protect yourself is against the law," the judge informed me.

Then to the bailiff she said, "bind her wrists and add another ten swats to her punishment."

My wrists were soon locked in stainless steel handcuffs and my punishment began again. A quick glance at the stenographer revealed that she was enjoying the show. I couldn't see the jury from my position over the bailiff's lap, but I supposed that they were enjoying the show as well.

I couldn't see my bottom, however, I assumed it was turning red. It stung fiercely as the pitiless bailiff mercilessly and efficiently rained down stinging smacks on my bare flesh. I squirmed across the bailiff's lap and cried out each time my innocent bottom was struck by strong, relentless hands.

Tears welled up in my eyes, making it difficult to see, however, I did happen to notice that the stenographer was still inspecting my naked body with blatantly prurient interest. The way she was looking at me made my heart beat faster and the throbbing in my loins increased. My public humiliation and physical torment had somehow stirred up my libido, however, it was the carnal way that the cute stenographer surveyed my naked body that really drove my sexual passion over the edge and drove me to a resounding climax.