The Judge

It had been a long, intense month of litigation. People who have learned about trials from television have no idea of how much energy a long trial can demand, the emotional drain that results from a long period of intense concentration.

My client had been sexually harassed, humiliated and demeaned by Vice President E, one of the top officers of the largest corporation in the state. They were defended by an entire platoon of lawyers. My associate had left me less than a month before the trial, and I had been on my own. Yet, I knew that I had gotten my case across. In spite of all their attempts to discredit my client, humiliate her again, I knew that the jury had seen through their case. The weeks of trial, the years of preparation were about to pay off.

When the verdict came in, I found I was right. The verdict was more than I had hoped for. The judge thanked the jury and dismissed them.

The next day, I got the message from Judge Santos. She wanted me to meet her in her chambers. Judge Santos is a tall woman, slender, about 50 years old. Dark hair (probably dyed), and piercing dark eyes. She is considerate and patient in the court room, but there is never any question about who is in charge. If you show any disrespect, or ignore her instructions, she can put you in your place with just a few words.

I went to her chambers, and was ushered in by her secretary, who left us alone. She was not wearing her robe, but even in a white blouse and long skirt, she retained her regal bearing. "Mr. Mike," she said, looking directly into my eyes, "I have bad news for you. One of the jurors confessed, after the trial, that she knew Vice President E, and that he had abused her when he was a young executive. You know that I should declare a mistrial."

I felt as if my entire life was collapsing around me. I didn't know if I had the energy to do this again. But something was off. Why was I here alone? Where was the phalanx of company lawyers?

"Your Honor, you know the verdict was right. The evidence was there. Surely this isn't necessary."

"Well, Mike, there may be an alternative. I've been watching you through the trial, and I very much approve of the way you handle yourself. I like a man who can treat a woman in authority with respect, without appearing either insincere or overly obsequious. However, there is a time for a man to show that he truly understands how to serve a powerful woman."

"Your Honor?" I gulped. For the first time I could remember in a legal setting, I was speechless.

"I am having a party next Tuesday for a few close friends," she said. "I want you to be the entertainment." She handed me a piece of paper with the address. "Be there at 8:00. Sharp. And wear that nice new grey suit. With this underneath." She handed me a paper bag. I started to open it. "Don't open it until you are getting ready to come to our party."

On Tuesday, I couldn't concentrate on my work at all. I knew I would do whatever Judge Santos wanted, but I couldn't bring myself to face it. I went home, showered, laid out my suit, and finally opened the bag. It contained a pair of black, thong underwear: an elastic for the waist, a strap for the back, and a bag for the front to hold my package. I'd never warn anything like that. I slid them on. The strap slid into the crack of my ass, feeling uncomfortable and yet, creating a tingling of arousal as well. The silk material of the bag felt wonderful on my manhood, which began to swell. I looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad for a 51-year-old. I keep myself in shape.

I put on my suit, with a new red tie. I looked very professional and distinguished. I drove to the address on the paper. A large, but not grandiose ranch style house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. My palms were sweating, my heart pounding as I rang the bell.

Judge Santos answered the door. She still looked very professional, a blue skirt falling just below her knees, and a red silk blouse. Not buttoned all the way to her neck now, though. She looked at her watch. "Ah right on time."

She led me to the living room, which was dimly lit, with music from the late 60's playing. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that there were four other women present. One was Judge O'Malley, a large, friendly, red-haired woman. Another, in her mid-60's, I recognized as a well known law school professor. The others were strangers to me.

"As you know" Judge Santos addressed the room, "Mr. Mike has agreed to provide our entertainment tonight. Before he begins, would any of you like him to refresh your drinks?"

I took their drink orders, and Judge Santos pointed me into the kitchen, where I found a bar laid out. I laid out the drinks on a tray, and grabbed a quick gulp of scotch to calm my nerves. As I carried the tray in, I heard Judge O'Malley comment that I looked good as a waiter in my suit.

"I'm sure he'll look even better out of it," was the reply.

I delivered the drinks, only confusing the orders of the two women I didn't recognize. Judge Santos then said, "We have heard that you are a good dancer. We would like you to dance for us."

"What? I used to be, but I'm not a young man anymore."

"We aren't interested in boys," Judge Santos responded. "We want to see you." She put on some Rolling Stones, and they all stared at me, expectantly.

At first, I was frozen. O'Malley said, "Come on. When have you had a room full of women wanting to see you move?"

I started swinging my hips, feeling awkward, stiff, unable to find the beat. I heard the Professor snort impatiently. Closing my eyes, blocking out everything but the music, I found my beat, and started to get into it. I had been using those Mick Jagger moves on the dance floor since college. If that's what they wanted to see.

Just as I was losing myself in the music, Judge Santos came over to me, and whispered in my ear, "That looks better. Now start removing your clothes."

It was easy enough to take off the suit jacket, and toss it aside. The same with my tie. The women started to clap to the music, and I felt cocky enough to twirl my tie and toss it to Judge O'Malley. Swaying my hips, I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, revealing the curly hair of my chest. I hesitated a moment.

"Off with it" said Judge Santos, quietly but firmly. I looked into her eyes, and slid it off my shoulders, letting in fall to the floor.

I had no problem removing my shoes. But the next step was frightening. I had begun to feel aroused when the clapped while I was dancing, but, as I imagined what I would look like in just the thong, my hands started to shake and I felt myself shriveling.

"Come on. Off with them." Several voices demanded. I loosened my belt. Looking around the room, all eyes directed at me.

"Five women want to see me dressed like that." As I thought that, I felt the blood returning to my organ. I unhooked my trousers, and slowly lowered the zipper, teasing, getting into it. Also, allowing my hand to run over my cock as I did so. If they were going to see me in that thong, I was determined to see that I filled up the bag.

I let my trousers slowly fall to the floor. My penis was clearly outlined against the silk. They seemed to be having a good time. I moved around the room, dancing, swaying, shaking that bag in front of each of them.

The music ended. I blinked and looked around, suddenly feeling very foolish. "I hope you enjoyed that," I managed to mumble.

"Oh, you're not finished," replied Judge Santos. "We saw how you ran your hand over your penis when you were taking off those slacks. Did that feel good?"

"Um. Uh." All I could do was stammer. "We want to see more of that," she instructed. She put more music on. "Let's see how you play with that."

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. She was staring directly into my eyes, challenging me. Slowly, I ran my hands down my chest, moving to the music again. My hands reached my crotch. I felt my hand, lightly running over the underside of my cock. It was immediately fully erect, straining against the silk. Swaying my hips, caressing my cock, and hand cupping and tickling my balls. Looking around the room, 5 pairs of eyes staring at my cock! I rubbed it gently, moving slowly around the room, giving each member of the audience a closeup.

When I reached Judge Santos, she slapped her palm hard against the arm of her chair. "Now. Take them off. We want to see what you are playing with." This time, I didn't have any hesitation. I had lost whatever shame should have inhibited me. If anything, I rushed to release my cock. It bobbed up and down as the silk bag was removed from it.

"Show us how you play with that thing," Judge Santos commanded. I stood in the middle of the room, slowly moving my hand up and down the shaft. A wet, sticky drop appeared on the tip.

"Don't cum until I tell you that you can." Judge Santos, of course. "Let everyone here inspect that tool of yours."

I went and stood before one of the strangers, a mousy, gray-haired woman. I stood directly in front of her, the tip of my cock pointed directly at her. Barely caressing it, afraid of losing control. "Would you point it down, so that I can examine all of it?" she asked. I was surprised at this request, but immediately complied, turning and pointing my penis is all direction so that she could examine it from all angles. As I walked away from her, I noticed her hand sliding inside her skirt.

The second stranger. Somewhat younger than the others. "Can I touch it?" she asked.

Judge Santos replied, "That was not what we agreed."

"Can I have him rub it against my foot?"

"All right," Judge Santos agreed. The young stranger put her foot on a stool, and signaled for me to kneel before her. I rubbed the underside of my shaft against her toes and the heel of her foot.

"All right," Judge Santos commanded, impatiently.

I went to Judge O'Malley, next. "I like to see them bounce up and down," she said, laughing. "Do some exercises for us." I felt silly, doing jumping jacks and high knee kicks, naked in front of this woman, but my erection remained firm. Indeed, it did feel good to have it bouncing stiffly up and down. Judge O'Malley slid a hand under her blouse and began squeezing her ample bosom. I guess she liked it.

The Professor. I stood in front of her, displaying my hardness, breathing heavily. "Do you ever stick a finger in your ass when you masturbate?" The question surprised me. I didn't answer.

"Well, do you," came from Judge Santos.

"Well, yes, but only if I am lubricated." I finally answered.

The Professor opened her purse and passed me a jar of hand cream. I coated my finger, added some to my rear opening, and took a deep breath. I stood sideways before her, so that she could see my erection standing out in front of me, and my finger as it teased around the rim of my anus. I slid my finger in, to the first joint, to the second. My hand moving slowly up and down my now throbbing cock. An involuntary moan of pleasure escapes my lips and my finger reached my prostate.

"Show me" the Professor commanded. Understanding, I knelt on the floor, facing away from her, my ass in the air toward her. Taking my hand off my cock, sliding my finger in and out of my ass, caressing and stimulating the prostate. Ass squirming.

"My turn." Judge Santos. Back on my feet. Walking over to her, my cock pointing up. Waiving and bobbing. Squeezing my thighs together, I stand before her, for her inspection. Hands behind my back, not touching it.

"All right." She said. "You will lie on the floor in the middle of the room. With your cock pointing straight up. Rest your back on a cushion, so we can see your ass and ball, as well as that lovely prick of yours. You will begin stroking when I tell you." I got into the position as she instructed. "All right ladies. Are you ready to see him cum?" There were words of assent from around the room.

As I looked at my audience, I saw that the older woman I didn't know had her hand well up her skirt. The younger one had removed her slacks, and had slid a finger into the side of her panties. The Professor had a pillow shoved under her dress, between her thighs like a horse. Judge O'Malley, amazingly, had removed nearly all of her clothing, everything except her panties. Her full heavy breasts hung before her, the brown nipples hard and pointy as she caressed them. Judge Santos was still fully dressed, but her blouse was unbuttoned.

"Now, begin stroking, but slowly." I complied, enjoying the gentle, slow waives of pleasure.

"Have him put that finger back up his ass." The Professor really liked that.

"Okay, you heard her."

I coated my finger again with cream, lifted my ass so that the Professor could see, and slid my finger back in. She began to rub back and forth on her pillow.

"All right," Judge Santos demanded. "Start stroking faster, but don't cum until I say." I complied, but I had to stop and squeeze my cock, occasionally, to keep from losing control. I saw Judge Santos panties fall to her ankles, and she kicked them away. She placed something under her skirt, and I heard a buzzing sound. There was another vibrator going, somewhere else in the room.

"Now," commanded Judge Santos. I began pumping my cock with abandon. Finally. Anticipating the release. Feeling it build in my balls. Clenching my perineal to hold it back. My ass grabbing my finger. Finally, it exploded. Shooting upward. An intensity I haven't felt since my 20's. Shouts and screams of pleasure and climax from around the room. Warm, sticky cum coating my stomach. The room filled with smells of arousal.

A round of applause. "Thank you for providing the evening's entertainment."