Incest/Taboo Amber's New Job

Richard & Richard's biggest case was an environmental degradation lawsuit filed on behalf of the residents of Clear River, a town located downstream from a large chemical plant. While establishing liability and damages would be difficult, the potential award was in the hundreds of millions of dollars. The firm, unfortunately, had bad luck with the judge assigned to the matter.

Annette Bush was in her mid-forties. At thirty-five she married a man ten years her senior. He was well off, politically influential, and had gotten his wife elected judge. She had the worst record on appeal of any judge on her court and her demeanor on the bench was unpredictable, swinging from pleasant to ornery without explanation. Although not completely biased, she was from and had married into money; she had no natural affinity for either our case or its low-income plaintiffs. The case would be heard by a jury. Judge Bush would influence, but not control, the final decision.

Six weeks before the trial I sat down with Ron and Michelle.

"The Clear River trial is set to start on the twentieth of next month. If this case hits, Ron and I will shut down the practice. There is a piece of property on a mountain in Hawaii we've been eyeing for years. If we get the verdict we want, that's where we're heading. Don't worry, you and Denise will be set for life.

"I've asked Regina to assist us and any extra time you can spend in the office will be appreciated. However, that's not your most important job."

She paused to organize her thoughts. "This is what we know and what we think. Judge Bush's husband is gay; she's a beard. How much of that she understands I'm not sure. I suspect she gets it at some level, but is doing her best to live in denial.

"I strongly suspect - to the point of near certainty - that Judge Bush is gay. Her dating history before she married is almost nil. At conventions she gets a few drinks in her and starts flirting with the girls, especially the young ones. It's nothing she can't excuse as alcohol-induced, but it's real.

"She prefers them young and sweet. A friend in the Sheriff's Office who provides courtroom security checked the history on her personal computer: she has a taste for schoolgirl lesbian porn. For the past few years she's volunteered to act as a judge at the local Catholic girl's high school moot court competition. When there her eyes linger on the cute girls in school uniforms.

"How aware she is of her own predilection or whether she's ever fully ventured out of the closet is unknown, but if its happened I can't find out anything about it, which means it probably hasn't.

"Her rudeness and volatility in the courtroom, and especially the way she picks on young lawyers, confirms what is evident in even short meetings with her: she has a weak personality. The strong ones don't need temper tantrums to get their way.

"Briefs in the case are due tomorrow. You will file the originals with the clerk and bring her copies. If you just beat the 5:00 o'clock deadline with the clerk you should be in her office just after her staff leaves. Your assignment: make Judge Bush your pet."

The three of us adjourned to the private room at our favorite Italian restaurant for an evening of brainstorming.

The next day at 4:55 P.M. I filed pleadings in the clerk's office. I was wearing a red plaid skirt that came below my knees and a pink button down shirt. It matched my pink head band. My hair was straight and pulled back in pig tails. I wore yellow ballet flats. My make up was minimal, my fingernails pink, and I wore small girlish earrings. I was not a naughty school girl, I was an innocent one.

I grabbed one of the lollipops the in-take clerk kept in a bowl by her desk and headed upstairs. It was a few minutes after 5:00; the Judge's staff was leaving. I buzzed. A cranky voice asked, "What is it?"

"I'm from Richard & Richard with your pleadings."

"They were supposed to be here by 5:00. Wait, I'm coming."

Judge Bush opened her door to a sweet young thing with tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry Judge, there was a long line downstairs. At the office they told me to make sure I got here by 5:00. It's my fault. Please don't tell on me."

The Judge's eyes took a bit longer to drink in my form than they should. She grasped my hand in hers. The handshake lasted a bit too long.

"I apologize, it's been a long day. Please come in."

I followed the Judge to her office and, at her invitation, sat down. She was not an unattractive woman, but invested almost nothing in her personal appearance. She wore flat shoes and dowdy clothes. I handed her the papers. She put the envelope on her desk and asked if she could get me something to drink. I asked for milk. She didn't have any, so I accepted a cola. When she left I evaluated her office. Judges were responsible for buying their own furniture and decorations; her expensive antiques and original art work confirmed her wealth.

She returned with the drink. I slipped a straw into the can and sipped politely. The Judge opened the envelope and asked me my name.

"Amber."

"It's very nice to meet you Amber. Have you been in a judge's office before?"

"No ma'am."

She began an open ended conversation. I let her know I had time to kill. My delivery to her was the last of the day. I didn't need to rush anywhere. I said I still lived at home with my Mom (I made that up) and I didn't have a boyfriend or anything. When the Judge expressed surprise that a girl like me didn't have a guy I said, "You know, they're all interested in only one thing." She nodded in sage agreement.

I was energetic and peppy. I was optimistic and positive. I told her how much I admired successful woman like her; how I couldn't wait until I graduated from college and got a real grown-up job. I mentioned that my Mom helped me land the job at Richard & Richard, talked about going to an all girls high school (I also made that up), and told her I was an excellent student, and how romantic I thought the Twilight books were. The Judge's eyes shimmered with desire. Michelle had her pegged just right; her secret, only half-understood fantasy, was sitting across the desk from her.

I gave the Judge a chance to show off. I said I'd thought about becoming a lawyer, but I didn't like mean people. "I just hate it when people are rude." The Judge related a few stories about how she dealt with dishonest people while remaining a lady. The Judge, who had at first resisted the urge to openly check me out, was also getting lazy. She, more and more brazenly, drank in my looks. It was fifteen minutes to six. She had swallowed the hook; it was time to reel her in.

In a childlike tone I said, "Judge, do you think I'm pretty?"

"Yes." She hesitated, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, the way you look at me, it reminds me of the way some of my high school teachers looked at me. They would tell me I was pretty."

"Your teachers were right, you are very pretty."

"Thank you Judge, it makes me feel good when a smart woman like you thinks I'm pretty. When the lady teachers at school told me how pretty I was they'd ask to see more of me. I wasn't sure if I should, but they were the teachers. You're lots more important than a teacher. Are you like them? Would you like to see more?"

Judge Bush's mouth was open. She was staring at me, not sure what to say; her face a mixture of confusion and lust: too scared to move forward, too entranced to step back. The best she could do was punt. "What, what do you mean?"

"They'd ask me to show them," I dropped my voice a tone, glanced around the empty office, and then whispering as if in embarrassment, " my breasts. Lots of girls like to show theirs off in tight clothes and low necklines, but I don't. But still, I think they're pretty. Would you like to see my breasts? I mean we couldn't tell anyone, but I'd like to know if you think they're pretty. "

Eyes fixed on my chest, mouth open, she nodded.

I undid my shirt, fumbling with the buttons, advertising nervousness and inexperience. When done I stood, pulled the shirt from my skirt, and undid the front clasp of my lacy pink bra.

"What do you think Judge, are they pretty?"

The Judge stared, but said nothing.

"I guess you can't see from over there. I'll come closer." I walked around her desk and stood before her.

"Well, do you think their pretty."

Unconsciously she licked her lips and croaked out, "They're beautiful."

"You're so sweet. I'll tell you another thing. Sometimes the teachers kissed them. They said it was okay because they were teachers and were way smarter than me. I guess you're even smarter than they are. Would you like to kiss them?"

Her resistance collapsed. The Judge lunged at me, desperately sucking a dark brown areola and nipple into her mouth. I felt it stiffen and held her head.

"That feels so nice, even better then when my teachers did it."

And then, on time, the security deputy buzzed the office to let himself in. The Judge's frantic eyes darted around the room. I, calmly and carefully, snapped my bra back into place, buttoned up my shirt, and tucked it in. The deputy walked in.

The Judge, feeling guilty, felt a need to explain. "Hello officer, this young lady delivered some pleadings to my office. She was just about to leave."

"Yes Judge. I enjoyed meeting you so much, it was so interesting. I hope I'll get to see you again."

The deputy offered to walk me to the courthouse door, but I hung back to tell the Judge one last thing. "Don't worry, our secret."
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* * * *​

It was 4:00 P.M. the following day and we had not heard from Judge Bush. Even unflappable Ron seemed worried. Michelle was sanguine. "Don't worry, she'll call."

At 4:15 Denise answered the phone.

"Richard & Richard."

"This is Judge Bush, may I speak to Michelle."

Michelle picked up.

"Good afternoon Judge."

"Good afternoon. I left one of the memoranda you filed yesterday at home, the one addressing the evidentiary issues. My computer is on the fritz, I can't receive e-mails or faxes. Do you mind dropping off a copy."

"Not at all, I can bring it myself."

"You don't need to go to that trouble, you can send the girl you sent yesterday."

"I'm sorry Judge, but she's on another assignment. She won't be back till 6:30."

"That's fine, I'm planning to work late anyway."

She gave Michelle her cell phone number and said I should call when I arrived; the Judge would let me in.
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* * * *​

The me the Judge met at the door was a vastly different creature than the me she had seen the day before. I was dressed to the max: I was wearing a white turtleneck and a small black leather jacket with an Isabeli Fontana Leather maxi leather skirt and Stuart Weitzman dress boots, which featured a two inch platform and narrow six inch heels. I towered over the Judge. I had straightened my hair; it ran past my shoulders. In place of my pink short fingernails were long ones of an opulent deep red. I carried an expensive leather satchel and wore an understated wide gold bracelet. The Judge was speechless.

I winked, "You miss me, pet. No cops to bother us this time."

"No, I just need the papers."

"Of course, pet. I've never seen your courtroom, let's take a look."

I strode past her. She hurried to catch up. The click of my boots on the marble floor echoed in the empty building, contrasting nicely with the silence of the Judge's sensible shoes. The elevator was waiting for us. She followed me in; I hit the button for her floor.

I pushed her against the wall and kissed her. The kiss was not gentle: I violated her mouth, mauled her, my tongue went where it wanted, taking control. When the elevator door opened, I stepped away. The Judge took half a step forward. Her tongue came through her open mouth, flopping around, searching for mine.

"Come with me pet."

I walked down the hall to her office suite. She scurried behind. "Which is the door to the courtroom?"

She pointed to it.

"Come."

She followed.

I walked up the steps of the podium on which her chair, the seat of her power, was stationed. I undid the buckles of my skirt, letting it fall the floor. I was wearing a strap-on dildo.

She started, "I'm not sure..."

"Yes you are. You're absolutely sure. You're just afraid. Afraid to admit it's women you want, women you've always wanted. I'm gonna kick down the door and drag you through it. You see, I know what I want; I get what I want. Lean on the podium."

She hesitated, but was helpless before my complete self-assurance.

I smiled, an evil smile, "Now." She did as she was told.

I pulled up her dress and tore off her panties. Her pussy was swollen and wet, nectar coated her inner thighs. I ran a long red fingernail the length of her snatch, making sure to scratch her clit. She shuddered. I brought the nail to my mouth and tasted her juice. "Your body knows what it wants."

I positioned myself behind her and fitted the head of my dildo to her cunt.

"In private you shall call me Ma'am."

I pushed the head of the dildo inside her. She was tight, tighter than I expected. I kept going and bumped into her hymen. It was intact. She was a virgin!

"You're a virgin, aren't you pet. I'm going to be your first. You play big, but you're just an innocent little girl aren't you?"

She didn't answer. I started to pull out.

"Yes."

"Yes what!"

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm an innocent little girl."

"That's good pet."

I slid the dildo back in, stopping at her hymen. I considered ramming through, but decided to go slow and gradually heighten the pain and draw out the experience, burning it into her memory.

"I will fulfil all your fantasies. In turn, you're going to my pet. You'll do whatever you're told."

I pushed forward. She squinted, her jaw tightened, she made no effort to disguise the pain. The torment reinforced her disorientation. Yesterday's cute schoolgirl, transmogrified into a dominatrix, was taking her virginity in the room, on the very chair, where she was supposed to be powerful.

"Pet, you didn't respond."

"Please, yes, whatever you say."

I started to withdraw.

"Ma'am, I mean Ma'am. Please, I'll be you pet, I'll do what you say, Ma'am."

I increased the pressure. Beads of sweat formed on the Judge's face as her hymen deformed and then popped. The Judge, used to a life of luxury where discomfort was an unknown, howled in paid. I was disinterested.

"That's my girl. You thought about me all of last night, didn't you. You dreamed of my sweet breasts in your mouth, but you never dreamed I'd be the one to take your virginity?"

I slapped her ass and began to pull out.

Her voice, ragged with the pain, responded without hesitation, "No Ma'am, I never dreamed."

I fucked her in long easy strokes, digging the nails of my right hand into her flank, slapping her ass with each thrust. I ordered her to turn her head and watch; engraving the moment on her consciousness.

"Tell me how beautiful I am."

Smack!

"Ma'am, you're the most beautiful woman in the world. You're lovely, sexy, strong."

Smack!

"You're perfect."

Smack!

The Judge started bucking, fully absorbed in the moment. I slapped her ass hard.

"Talk to me pet. Tell me what you're feeling."

SMACK!

"Ma'am, ohhh Ma'am. I need this, need this so bad. This is what I need. Yes! Fuck me Ma'am, fuck me. OH YEAH! FUCK ME! UMMMMM OH YEAH! YOU'RE SO BIG AND THICK! FUCK I LOVE YOUR COCK! UMMMM! OH! I LOVE IT! FUCK ME! FUCK YOUR PET, FUCK HER!"

SMACK!!

I grabbed her stringy brown hair - we would need to work on grooming - and pulled her head back. "You're mine pet. Do you understand, you belong to me."

SMACK!!

"Yes ma'am, I'm yours."

SMACK!!

"I can't hear you."

SMACK!!

"YES MA'AM. YES. OHHHHHH! UMMMMM! FUCK! YES. I DO, I DO, I DO! I BELONG TO YOU MA'AM."

SMACK!!

"FUCK ME PLEASE."

"You may come now."

She did. Screaming, thrashing uncontrollably, wildly, on her desk. "OH FUCK YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS... I'M CUMMMMMMING! OHHHHHHHHHHHH, OHH GOOODDDDD, I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMING!"

I pulled out and, as if scripted, the Judge's bladder released. She pissed all over herself.

"Pet, you've made quite the mess. You don't know anything, do you?"

"No Ma'am, please teach me, please show me. Show me about my body. I'll do whatever you say."

"I know you will, pet. You were a virgin. Even your husband doesn't think your good enough to fuck."

"Yes Ma'am."

"I'm going to change that. You're going to get fucked a lot."

I removed my dildo, laid it on her desk, and took another from my satchel. It had two heads. The narrow one would take the Judge's anal cherry. The short thicker prong, which featured an internal vibrator, was destined for her cunt. I lubricated both shafts with the oil Neelam had used on Donald; the lotion that excites the nerve endings. The Judge came writhing and screaming a dozen more times before I stopped.

I removed the dildo, pushed her exhausted body off the desk and onto the floor, and sat in her chair, and pointed to my crotch. She worked my cunt with her mouth. I had a passable orgasm. When done she looked up.

"Ma'am, did I do okay?"

"No pet, you did not. But I think you can be trained."

And the woman kneeling on the floor of a courtroom where, a few hours earlier she'd been the ultimate authority, beamed.

After midnight we drove to the home of a tattoo artist Ron and Michelle had helped beat a drug charge. She trimmed the judge's pussy, removing the hair immediately above her vagina and leaving a rectangle of hair floating above it. Stenciled in the newly bared area was a single word: "Amber's." I snapped a picture and reprogrammed her phone. When I called it would display her tattooed pussy and Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl."
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* * * *​

Through Regina we knew the Judge has a meeting with counsel in a high profile mur*er case at 10:00 A.M. the next morning. The district attorney would be there. At 10:15 Katy Perry's voice disturbed the conference. The Judge answered.

"Good morning pet."

"Hello."

I cleared my throat.

"Hello Ma'am."

"Tell the lawyers there is a family emergency and reset the conference for 2:00. Then go to the courthouse parking deck and get in the green van parked in space 3-D. Bon appetit.

The Judge obeyed without hesitation. In the van there was a homeless woman I'd found on the street. She ate the grungy stinking pussy until the vagrant came.
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* * * *​

That night I tied the Judge to her mahogany conference table and fucked her silly. The following night, Friday, she was instructed to go to Mizell Airport, the private airport that served our area, and board the HA-420 HondaJet at Welden Air. She was the only passenger when the jet landed on a dirt field on a ranch near Las Vegas. The Judge was escorted to a small cottage and given a cup of tea laced with a sleep inducing drug.
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* * * *​

The next morning the Judge awoke. She was naked. There was a television remote control on the bed next to her. She turned it on. My face appeared on the screen.

"Good morning pet. Take a shower, wash your hair, light make-up, hair in a bun. You'll find what you need in the bathroom. Your clothes are in the closet. When done, go outside."

The Judge said, "Yes Ma'am," and emerged about forty-five minutes later. She was coiffed as instructed and dressed conservatively, wearing a long sleeve, loose-fitting, black dress that hung close to her ankles, pantyhose, and sensible shoes. Her only jewelry was her ornate diamond wedding ring.

In a waiting automobile she found a cup of coffee, a light breakfast, and a folder containing a daily lesson plan for a high school class on the judicial system. She reviewed the material. She was dropped off at a windowless building.

Inside was a mock up of a high school classroom. The students were seven beautiful young woman - one black, one Asian, one Hispanic, one Native-American, and three white girls, blond, brunette, and red head - dressed as schoolgirls. They wore name tags. They had been selected from among Las Vegas' most-skilled prostitutes, chosen for their beauty, youthful appearance, and acting ability (you'd be surprised how many struggling dancers and actors populate America's most desired prostitutes). They were costing a fortune.

The Judge stared. The girls, well-prepared, said in unison, "Good morning teacher."

"Good morning class," she replied. I could see the hunger in her eyes. She'd let this fantasy envelop her.

The class took fifty minutes. The Judge was neither a trained teacher nor had she the time to prepare. To ensure the presentation did not falter the girls were ready with questions and a lively class discussion. When the bell sounded all but the black girl filed out.

When they were alone, fiddling with the thick dark hair which hung past her shoulders, she said, "Miss Bush, I need to talk to you about the exam last week. My grade was terrible. I had a big fight with my boyfriend the night before and I couldn't focus on studying."

The Judge checked the name tag, trying not to lose herself in the woman's beauty, and said, "Yes, Shamika, boys can be very inconsiderate. What can I do for you?"

Shamika moved closer; her voice dropped a tone; she adopted a husky seductive timbre.

"Is there anything I can do to make up for it. Anything at all?"

"What did you have in mind Shamika?"

Shamika took the Judge's hand in hers and ran a finger across the palm and wedding ring.

"I don't know, Miss Bush. An extra-credit assignment, a paper, something more personal?"

"What do you mean?"

Shamika's hand moved to the Judge's hip. "Miss Bush, in class you look at me like my boyfriend looks at me." Shamika's hand moved up the Judge's side.

"If I let you do some of the things I let him do, would you be nice to me the way he is."

The Judge glanced at her wedding ring, trying to find some strength in it.

"Shamika, that would be against the rules."

"Ms. Bush, rules are made to be broken. And think of the nice things you'll get." Shamika started undoing the buttons running down the front of the Judge's dress.

"The rules aren't what you want. I'm what you want."

Shamika slipped a finger inside the Judge's bra. The Judge inhaled sharply, her body trembled.

"Your nipples, Miss Bush, they're hard. All you need to do is say is, 'Shamika, I'll give you an 'A' if you let me kiss you.'"

The Judge's glanced around and then, lips puckered lips, leaned forward. Shamika pulled back, laughing.

"No, no, Miss Bush, first you need to let me know what I'll get if I let you kiss me."

"I'll give you an 'A' on the exam, please let me kiss you."

Shamika's hands curled around the back of the Judge's head, bringing their mouths together. Employing the power of her athletic body, her self-confidence and experience, Shamika's tongue speared inside the Judge's mouth, teased, then battered, her tongue, and went exploring. There was nothing sweet about the kiss; it bordered on Ra*e.

The Judge, enthralled, reached for Shamika's breasts. Shamika stepped back.

"Do you want to play with Shamika's breasts? Our deal was kiss only. My boobs cost alot more."

Most, but not all, the fight had left the Judge. When she did not immediately respond, Shamika stood up to go. The Judge's resistance fractured. "Please don't go, what do you want, please tell me!"

"If you want to play with my breasts you need to promise me an 'A' for the entire year. You'll do that, won't you Miss Bush."

"Yes, yes, I promise."

Shamika, casually and deliberately, removed her shirt and bra. I could see why people paid to play with those things, her breasts were fricking perfect. They were full, but not too large, "C" cups most likely. Round, they sloped naturally, gracefully, gently from her chest, projecting forward with a tight cleavage; there was no sag. The nipples and areolas, which were slightly darker than the creamy chocolate of her skin, tilted forward and were round, symmetrical, and proportionate to the size of her breasts. Shamika took a breast in each hand and gently squeezed. They were firm, but not hard, the skin soft, almost shimmering.

The Judge was mesmerized; she wouldn't have noticed a brass band marching by.

"Come here, Miss Bush. You may kiss Shamika's breasts."

The Judge, eyes on Shamika's chest, cupped the left breast with both hands and, mouth wide open, swallowed the areola. Her lips quivered as she sucked it into her mouth.
​