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Annie
Judge's chambers in a courthouse weren't totally outside my normal territory. Before I was undercover, I was a uniformed officer. I had been in court a few times, more often than not in chambers, because it seemed obvious from the beginning I was meant for undercover. And as soon as it became clear I was headed for undercover work, my court appearances were held differently. I couldn't be seen testifying in any kind of official capacity. Still, courthouses were familiar, with their echo-y marble floors, the security guards and the metal detectors, the feeling of something vast and important happening.
The sense of dread. Though this time it was because of what I assumed was going to happen.
If I'd been an actual submissive, I could look at the upcoming session in the judge’s chambers as something my Master was forcing me to do. Or allowing, depending on how subby I was. Maybe there'd be some illicit thrill to it.
But this way, given the confused state I was in anyway - I had an appointment to essentially whore myself out because I wanted to protect a man who had essentially already whored me out himself. What else should I consider him putting me up for auction? Didn't help that it was early days when that happened.
It had happened. Cole St. Martin had done it and he was the same closed off man he was now.
So maybe I considered the seduction and takedown of Judge Conway as my payment to put everything right with Cole – with St. Martin – damn, with Sir – and go back to the world I was building where I didn't dither over what to call a man who routinely spanked me to tears. All this time with him and it was still consensual non-consent from the point of view that I agreed to stay with him, for my good and his, and I went back to him routinely, even when I didn't have to. But at the same time, I never agreed to get strung up and beaten, or ordered to my knees, or told to play with another woman for the entertainment of everyone gathered. I still blushed, I still wanted to fight, I still got wet thinking of it when it wasn't happening and tried like anything to find a way out when it was.
That said, seduction – which was what I assumed was going to happen with the judge – that wasn't outside my purview, either. I didn't have to be terrified of playing that part with the judge. Seduction was part of undercover, at least for me. That's how I'd gotten into the Brotherhood and other gangs. I'd often wondered what Mark thought I'd done to get in, but maybe that was just so far outside his comfort zone – the idea that his fiancée could do such a thing for her job – that he didn't think about that.
I was thinking about it hard. This time. Because this time it wasn't a real assignment. I had no law enforcement backing me up and no legal anything behind me. If the judge pushed it the right way I could find myself in custody facing charges for prostitution or solicitation, which really was illegal in the metro area and Clark County.
The guards at the metal detectors watched me as I unloaded silver crucifixes, rings, key chain, change, metal makeup tubes, which they opened and inspected. Hot Pink, the color declared. The male and female guards exchanged glances, then looked back at me. I was wearing a little plaid skirt and a deeply unbuttonable button-down white shirt, still buttoned because they weren't my target. I looked like Taylor Swift and Britney Spears had been melded together and exploded out of some nerd's wet dream fantasy.
"What's the purpose of your visit?" the female guard asked.
"Extra credit assignment," I said, sounding stupid, vacant, vapid – any of those. When she went on staring at me, I added, "I'm a pre-law student. At UNLV. My grades – they're not great. So I asked if I could do an extra credit assignment."
I let it lie there until the female guard lowered her head in an you are going to finish that, aren't you? gesture and said, "And?"
"Oh!" I said, as if realizing now what she wanted. "I got permission to interview Judge Conway."
I thought she came close to rolling her eyes. Maybe I wasn't the first. Shit, that might make it harder. If he'd been fucking with others in the lifestyle, I might very well be one of a number of girls coming to fangirl around his feet.
That could go bad in so many ways.
He could let me do my thing – shudder – and then have me arrested.
Or he could have me arrested without having to do anything. Still bad.
Or he could make me disappear. That was a cold thought as I collected my metal bits – I'd wanted very much to be seen entering the courthouse and the display of stupidity at the metal detector helped, as did the outfit.
He could make me disappear because I figured human traffickers would be perfectly happy to have a Britney/Taylor hybrid. They might even make me a blonde.
"Judge Conway is on the fourth floor," the female guard said. "You can take the elevators past the coffee bar." She pointed and lost all interest in me.
That was okay. If I did go missing, she'd remember me. If I went missing, my "mother" would be chosen from a group of people Sir knew, who weren't necessarily known associates of his. She'd come looking, stating I'd been doing the extra credit assignment and if none of my professors knew about that, so what? So I did it first and asked later, and fibbed to the guards. That was pretty mild and could be overlooked. Hell, since she wasn't my "mother," there'd probably be a scene once I was found when I was put over her knee and spanked for my behavior.
Of course, there was also the fact that I was pretty damned sure that if anything happened to me Cole St. Martin would move heaven and earth to find me.
Cold comfort if what he found was a corpse.
With that cheerful thought I took the elevator to the fourth floor.
The offices on the fourth floor just looked like offices. Frosted glass in the doors, the sound of keyboards rattling. The offices themselves were suites, vast and with the outside light coming in from the executive offices.
Judge Conway had a corner office. Books lined the walls of the office I could see right inside. The receptionist looked up without any curiosity. "Are you the girl here to do the interview?"
"I am," I said. "This is so cool!" I didn't specify what was and she didn't ask. I got the impression she wanted to know as little about me and whatever brought me here as possible.
"Let me just tell the judge you're here." And then her eye ran down my outfit and she sighed. There was a pause before the receptionist stood to go back to the Judge's office. She looked like she was in her fifties, with blond hair and a bunch of crows feet around her eyes.
The eyeroll said I wasn't the first. Whether the others were here for similar reasons – there were apparently a lot of subs running around doing their Master's bidding – or for themselves, or because they were hired? I had no idea. Apparently Judge Conway didn't think he needed to hide what he was doing from his staff.
