Considerate Boyfriend Pt. 04

"Betsy," Justice Oxman began again in a softer tone, "Would you be more comfortable speaking to the court more directly? Perhaps if you approached the bench . . . you might . . . feel better?"

Betsy sniffled into the handkerchief and then mumbled something unintelligible, but she did finally rise from her chair and walk haltingly to the bench.

"Why don't you come up here," he offered, "It might be easier for you to speak to the court."

Betsy sobbed out something unintelligible, rounded the corner of the Justice's counter and climbed the step. Justice Oxman swiveled in his chair and motioned for her to come closer.

"You can sit here if it helps," he offered, and a moment later Betsy was perched upon the Justice's knee, still quite distraught, but apparently calmed by Justice Oxman's gentle words and the hand he placed upon her lone bare shoulder.

"Now, Miss Betsy can you please tell the court why you behaved in such an unladylike manner at Vera's bar tonight? You knew, didn't you, that you would be breaking several of our local ordinances with your bawdy dancing? And before you answer I must remind you that you have sworn to tell the truth."

"Oh yes! The . . . um . . . truth!" As she said this, I noticed her hand move furtively beneath the bench and then begin to rise and fall ever so slowly in Justice Oxman's lap. She sniffled, wiped at her eyes with the handkerchief once and repeated, "The tru-u-uth!" with great relish. I noticed the hand she held in his lap rose up sharply, and I swore I could see Betsy's delicate hand rise an inch or two above the bench top. It was clearly filled with the knobby head of Justice Oxman's cock swaddled in the crisp silk of his robe.

Justice Oxman's expression seemed to soften as her hand slowly disappeared beneath the bench once more. Betsy appeared to be over her crying jag. In fact, she showed a renewed spirit and willingness to participate in the proceedings.

"The truth, Your Honor, can be a difficult thing to pin down." Betsy's hand was rising and falling steadily but slowly now, and Justice Oxman's thoughts appeared to be adrift in some distant and pleasant place.

At length he managed to mutter, "Continue, please."

I noticed a striking change had come over Betsy. Two minutes ago, she had been crying. Now she had a Justice of the Peace's cock in her hand and was calmly stroking it. The fact that it may have been the biggest cock she'd ever encountered in her life didn't seem to faze her.

"I never got to go to my high school prom," she began, "My parents were very strict, but I always imagined what it would have been like. My friends told me stories about it afterwards and - well - I was just sure I'd missed out on a lot. And then Torby- that's Torby there," she said with a wave of the handkerchief to me, "And my daughter Sydney told me about Dancer's and some of the things Sydney did there."

She paused in telling her story for a moment. The hand in the Justice's lap continued its steady rise and fall uninterrupted as if her hand had always rested there and it was a normal, necessary part of her testimony.

"That's when I got the idea for tonight. That's why we started calling it Prom Night. You can understand why I wanted to make this a special night, can't you?" she asked.

Justice Oxman was caught off-guard by her question. He seemed to have other important matters to consider. "Well, well, I suppose . . . yes . . . that is only reasonable," he replied in a trembling voice, "But my dear - letting strange men plant money between your legs like watermelon seeds is hardly the sort of thing that goes on at a prom!"

"Well . . . I sort of never got to be a naughty girl growing up - ever," she observed.

"You mean you never behaved like a slut?" he asked. He was more aware now and less distracted.

"You don't think I'm a slut, do you?" Betsy squealed and turned to stare at him. The hand in the Justice's lap suddenly halted at the top of its stroke. All of us in the courtroom could see the knobby head of Justice Oxman's cock sheathed in the material of his robe as it rose up out of her fist. How she could hold and stroke something that massive and remain so calm and unfazed was beyond me.

"My dear Betsy!" Oxman intoned in a paternal, calming voice, "Being slutty isn't such a terrible thing! It is only inappropriate when you behave that way all of the time. Now you surely aren't a slut all the time, are you?"

Betsy mulled this over for a moment and replied, "No. No, in fact I'm a college English professor."

"There you go!" he fairly purred. "I'm sure you are a fine, upstanding member of your faculty and an outstanding teacher!"

"And the chairperson of my department," she added, almost as a knee-jerk addition to bolster her own pride.

Justice Oxman turned and addressed the rest of us in the courtroom, "Do any of you here believe an esteemed college professor could ever truly, deep-down be a dyed-in-the-wool slut?" He searched our faces, even Sydney's for responses.

The Sheriff and the Deputy both smiled vaguely, shook their heads and quietly answered, "No."

"But," he continued as he focused his gaze now on Sydney, "It is a comforting thing to be able to . . . um . . . let your hair down occasionally and simply let yourself enjoy a few more of the pleasures life has to offer us all. Don't you agree, Sydney?" He flashed her a knowing smile.

Sydney returned the smile and said, "Oh yes! Definitely! And tonight has certainly been one of those nights for me."

Justice Oxman's question seemed to bring Sydney to life. As far as I could see from my seat behind her, Sydney had remained relatively calm and composed, unlike her mother. At the Justice's question, she straightened in her chair. She paused for a moment to study the heap of damp bills in front of her. A devilish glint came into her eyes as she spotted her thong buried beneath all that money. It was as if she had forgotten she was sitting in this courtroom wearing nothing more than stockings and heels. Sydney quietly spread her legs wide beneath the table. I wasn't in a position to appreciate the glorious vista of blue curls as her legs opened wide, but the look on Justice Oxman's face as his eyes drifted downward said it all. Even the Sheriff and Deputy craned their necks trying to get a look under the table.

Betsy interrupted all three men's dreams regarding Sydney's sweet blue lagoon by calmly asking, "Letting go of all those inhibitions is always best done when it can be discreet, don't you agree, Your Honor? Maintaining a lady's reputation is always very important to her."

I noticed her hand had resumed stroking slowly, teasingly in the Justice's lap.

"I am beginning to think it might be safe to let down some of my inhibitions here and now, Your Honor. Would I be safe doing that? Do you think everyone could be discreet? After all, a lady's reputation is very important." she observed demurely as she looked to each person in the courtroom. Her slow, pistoning hand halted, and her gaze came to rest on Oxman.

Stunned, disappointed, confused, orgasmic? The look on the Justice's face was a hysterical mix of all these. I'm not sure he knew whether to cum, stare a bit longer into the lush blue bed of curls beneath the defendant's table or bang his big gavel.

He fumbled for the longest time with his choices until finally, he fidgeted slightly in his seat, and then surveyed his courtroom and all who were in it. "This court will hear the truth! And the defendants have sworn to tell the whole truth. When truthful testimony has been given in this case, I will render a fair and just verdict!" he blustered.

Justice Oxman then brought a new and rather steely gaze to bear on the nearly naked woman perched on his knee and said, "Only when truthful, sincere testimony has been given can this court render a just verdict. Are you prepared to give truthful, complete and honest testimony in this matter, and do you trust that this court will treat you and your companions fairly and in a way that will respect your reputations as well as provide a measure of discreet protection?"

The force and directness of the Justice's question took much of the wind out of Betsy's sails. Her hand fumbled at his cock, too distracted by his challenge to resume her slow, teasing strokes.

"Um . . . Um . . .?" she muttered.

"Well?" Oxman demanded.

"Um . . . Right here? I mean, this isn't very private and - and it would be embarrassing," she stammered.

"Oh, you have nothing to worry about!" he countered, "Why, I don't think anyone here could find anything you say or do embarrassing - as long as you tell the truth!"

Betsy's eyes slowly settled upon Justice Oxman's lap and her hand slowly resumed its rising and falling, "Oh, you have no idea how much I want the truth to come out, Your Honor!"

"Are you prepared to give your testimony?"

"Could I testify - privately?" she asked, her fist pumping a bit faster in his lap now.

The Justice was obviously prepared for this moment. He turned to look out upon us in the courtroom, snatched up his gavel and barked out his hurried instructions. "This court will take a twenty- no, thirty-minute recess to hear this defendant's testimony! Sheriff, you and your deputy are to interrogate the younger defendant further. I want you to learn as much about their lewd behavior from earlier this evening as you can. This Court must have the truth in this matter."

Suddenly everyone in the courtroom was on their feet except me. Justice Oxman motioned to a door at the rear of the room a few steps away and the pair set off immediately for it. It was impossible to tell who was leading. The Justice of the Peace was taking short, awkward steps in order to keep pace with Betsy. Betsy, for her part, strode on confidently, never relinquishing her grasp of Oxman's member and letting it point the way to their destination. It clearly seemed to know the way. It was Betsy who opened the door and entered first. Justice Oxman followed, then slammed it solidly behind him.

Sheriff Docker and Deputy Sillen rose instantly, approached Sydney on either side and brought her to her feet with hands at her shoulders and elbows.

"Let's just see if there is anything more you can tell us, Miss Sydney," the Sheriff told her. "Let's just do our questioning over here in the holding room."

I noticed a faint, nervous smile spread across Sydney's face as she glanced in my direction before accompanying them.

"Maybe the truth can set us all free," she told them nervously before being led into the holding room.

I was now all alone in the courtroom. What followed were thirty minutes of relative silence interspersed with Betsy's shrill screams, muted mewling from Sydney in the holding room and a good deal of gruff-sounding grunts and thumping noises from both rooms. Occasionally I could make out a word or two as they pressed both women with what must have been deeply probing, demanding questions. Betsy and Sydney both seemed to yelp and mutter answers I couldn't quite understand - when they answered at all.

Near the end of the thirty minutes set down by the Justice, Betsy and Oxman emerged from their room looking very much like the interrogation had been a grueling, all-consuming ordeal. Surprisingly, in spite of Betsy's frazzled hair, her smeared makeup and Oxman's wrinkled and twisted robe, both of them appeared to be quite satisfied with the disposition of Betsy's legal matters.

"Your testimony will be duly noted, Miss dePoet," Justice Oxman panted slowly, still catching his breath, "You may take your seat."

Oxman made his way back to the bench, sat heavily in his seat once more and sighed deeply. With his next breath he picked up his gavel and gave three sharp raps with it. "This court is called back into session!" he called out loudly for the Sheriff and Deputy to hear.

A minute later, the holding room door opened, and Sydney's smiling face appeared. Behind her I could hear grunting and muttering as the two men grumbled and floundered their way back into their uniforms. Sydney had to stand in the doorway almost a full minute before the lawmen appeared behind her.

When the trio did finally make their way back into the courtroom it was clear they had left a number of things unfinished. Deputy Sillen's fly was gaping open, his shirttails protruding from it and the Sheriff was still fighting to buckle his belt. Both men's shoes were untied.

Sydney giggled softly as they led her back to her seat. Perhaps being clad in only her stockings and heels from the start had given her an advantage. She truly seemed to be in her element now, and from the looks of her two interrogators, speaking the truth to them had left them quite dazed and red in the face. Living and sashaying around in the nude appeared to be a natural state for her.

"The court will come to order," the Justice of the Peace announced in a noticeably calmer voice.

Betsy had apparently had a similar pacifying impact upon the Justice, though I also noted Betsy had gained a slight hitch in her mincing gait as she returned from her questioning. She sat more gingerly as well and her flimsy excuse for a dress was now hiked up to her waist. She appeared either to be content to leave it this way or completely oblivious to her own bare-assed naked state.

"This court has entertained the testimony of Mrs. dePoet and feels she has provided ample and truthful testimony. She has chosen to throw herself on the mercy of the court."

I could see the back of Betsy's head nod in agreement.

"Sydney dePoet, you have now given your testimony to the Sheriff and his Deputy, and I can take their findings under advisement. Do you wish to enter a plea now as well?" Justice Oxman inquired.

Before Sydney answered, I watched her from behind as she spread her legs wide once again. I had a vivid mental picture of exactly what Justice Oxman was seeing at that very moment, having been treated to the same glorious sight in my classroom on several occasions. I wondered once again if she was seeping with excitement and if it was pooling beneath her on the chair seat.

She then said enthusiastically, "Your Honor, I would sincerely and eagerly love to throw myself all over the mercy of this court!"

I watched from behind as Sydney's entire body began to writhe with anticipation.

"Could I throw myself on the court's mercy right now?" she asked, unable to contain her excitement.

"You may approach the bench, Miss dePoet," came Oxman's calm reply.

"Al-l-right!" Sydney whooped.

Justice Oxman, Sheriff Docker and Deputy Sillen were completely unprepared for what happened next. Sydney bolted out of her seat and scurried around the defense table, rounded the end of the Justice's bench and was standing beside the Justice of the Peace grinning eagerly before anyone could say a word. Oxman stared at her, wide-eyed. Finally, he pushed his chair back in surprise.

"Show me your mercy!" she called out and immediately began lifting at Oxman's judicial robes. "Mercy!" she gasped out when his robe had been hoisted up to his chest, "Justice and truth are so demanding!" A split-second later Sydney threw a leg across the Justice and settled into his lap, still grinning from ear to ear as she faced him. Her hips began to roll slowly, lewdly in his lap.

"What are you doing, dear!" her mother shrieked. She was on her feet, face twisted up in shock, her hands balled up in anger. "You'll get us thrown in jail yet if you treat Justice Oxman like that."

Betsy was beside herself with shock and anger and stamped her foot. Justice Oxman straightened in his seat, peered over Sydney's slowly writhing shoulder to glare at Betsy. He immediately reached around Sydney's bare torso, snapped up his gavel and banged it hard one time. "Officers," he snapped, "Restrain that defendant by any means necessary! I will not tolerate such interruptions while justice is being served!"

The necessary means for restraining Betsy appeared to involve spreading the older Ms. dePoet out upon the defense table, throwing her legs high in the air as she continued to scream and throw her arms and legs about in loud protest. When this failed to calm her, the Sheriff proceeded to drop his pants, aim his already stiff Billy club at the smooth-shaven slit between Betsy's legs and then thrust roughly into her. This only turned her wailing to loud, soulful groaning.

"Shut her mouth, will you!" the Sheriff grunted Out to his deputy.

Deputy Sillen moved along the table beside Betsy and snatched up her flailing arms with one hand. With his other hand he released his belt and proceeded to let his pants down. His cock bobbled and danced its way into view. Deputy Sillen's manhood was only half as erect as the Sheriff's piece, but the Deputy's intentions were quite clear. He intended to plug her wailing mouth with it and let it stiffen and swell until it became the hefty pacifier needed to stifle Betsy's noisy complaints. Sillen's effort worked immediately. Betsy twisted her thrashing head to the side once more, discovered the semi-rigid manhood an inch from her lips, parted her lips and drew the head of it into her mouth.

"That's a good girl," Sillen told her softly and then eased the rest of his blossoming erection into her now eager mouth. It was as if she wanted his cock to fill her mouth.

Throughout these moments, while her mother's outburst was being quelled, Sydney remained steadfastly focused on the matters pertaining to her testimony. At the moment she was on top of Justice Oxman. She appeared to be very much in charge of the court's proceedings. Her hands had plunged into his lap the instant her tight little bottom came to rest on his legs.

Looking down into the space between her rolling hips and his belly, Sydney squealed out in shock, "Oh, Your Honor! I-I never dreamed the mercy of the court might be this . . . this . . . demanding!"

She paused for a moment to gawk, arrested temporarily by what she saw in his lap, and then she reached in to clasp his manhood with her hands. Apparently, the effort required both hands.

"Please be merciful, Your Honor," she told him, pleading her case.

"The law is a very demanding taskmaster, Ms. dePoet. You must accept the consequences of your actions, my dear. You have behaved in a most unladylike manner and violated several local ordinances. Some - including Deputy Sillen over there, have even called your behavior slutty," he told her calmly.

Sydney glanced briefly over her shoulder at Deputy Sillen as he worked at silencing her mother. She noted that her mother had managed to swallow the full length of his cock by now and seemed to be quite pacified. Aside from an occasional gagging or slurping sound, she appeared to be content with her restraints. The Sheriff continued to work his big sausage slowly in and out of her twat too. Their combined efforts were most definitely helping to quiet her down.

Sydney turned her attention to Justice Oxman once more. He was calm, cool and gazing back at her with an amazing degree of detachment. Given the fact that she was sitting astraddle of his lap, warmly cradling that formidable manhood of his in both her hands and stroking it with great affection, I would have expected him to be blathering like daffy duck about now, but he wasn't. In fact, he was regaining greater composure by the second.

"It isn't very fair of you to call me a slut, Your Honor," Sydney announced flatly. "It might interest you to know I am a college student and I take my studies very seriously. My mother has always encouraged me to work hard and to always do my best. She's also encouraged me to try new things. Just look at her now."