Chapter 1 - Caught

 

The day began as any other day, I had made the bread dough, scaled it off and moulded it, it was now in the proover rising nicely, and in the oven were the first lot of pies for the early customers. My boss would be in later. I had worked for him for five years now and we got on very well. He would be in at eight to set the shop up.

I went into the shop part there was always money in the till, he left a fifty pound float in case I had early customers, and it was in one of the quietest months, November was always quiet in the build up to Christmas. The doorbell went and I went into the shop. I served the customer, and then turned to go back into the back, when it went again, and two men came in with tea towels wrapped around their heads. I looked at them, one was taller than me, thick set and dark North African perhaps, the other much smaller, he was also North African, I guessed. The tall one held a long broad knife which he began to wave about.

Between us was the counter, a barrier, so I for some reason didn't think I was in danger, perhaps it was this psychological, and to some degree, physical barrier.

"Give us your money," he said, waving the knife around.

"Fuck off," I replied, and looked at him casually. I was not afraid, don't ask me why, I have no idea, I must assume it was this barrier.

"He leaned in towards me, and waved the knife about, and repeated, "Give us your money," there was an edge to his voice, trying to make it sound more menacing, perhaps.

I looked at him, it had worked once so I told him again to fuck off, he now became agitated, waving the knife about trying to get closer to me, but I was far enough away to still feel complacent.

The little one who up to now had done nothing, moved around the counter going towards the till.

The big guy waved the knife at me again and said, "The money."

I opened the till, and the little guy took out the notes, they ran, and as they did a customer saw them and collared the little one. I went to his aid, and the little one dropped the money, he struggled and managed to get free, and ran off. I picked up the money and called the police. I spent the next two hours helping the police with statements and baking, luckily the pies that were in the oven at the time of the robbery were not burnt. Otherwise I would have been annoyed. Funny how you react to situations, I didn't have any problems with the attack, I just carried on, it was like an idiotic situation, a farce, perhaps that physical barrier, and the psychological one, had taken it from a terrifying situation, which most people would think it was, into the realms of idiocy.

The day then went as normal, except for the brandies Paul my boss, fed me. I have never worked drunk before, maybe that was what made it seem an idiotic situation, I never had any reaction, at all.

The day over, I staggered home, literally, luckily I lived just around the corner and showered, and went to bed for my afternoon nap.

I awoke as usual, and went to my local pub after dinner, and as I walked in there was a pint on the bar waiting for me.

"Peter, we heard about the robbery, are you feeling ok? You're a hero, it was in all the local newspapers," Sam, another local I drank with, said.

"Me, yes of course, still a little tipsy, Paul kept giving me brandies. I think I am still a little drunk, I know I am," I said, and laughed.

I stayed there drinking slowly, and then at ten my usual time I left to go home to bed/ I was up at six to get ready for the bakery, but even though I was on holiday for the next week, habits die hard, so I kept my routine.

I walked down the street, and turned into a side street, a short cut I used going home to my flat. I could hear noises behind me, or was it just a feeling, sensing a presence, which ever it was, I knew I was being followed. Someone stepped out in front of me in the darkness of the side street, it was just a form. I ignored it; it wasn't unusual for people to use this as a short cut.

The figure stood still, and as I approached they stepped in front of me. I took a step to one side, and the form stepped in front of me.

"Care to dance," I said glibly.

"No, I would like you to put your hands behind your back," the form said.

The voice was female, and she was a little taller than I was, and heavier built.

"I beg your pardon? Why on earth would I want to do that? Now if you will excuse me?" I asked, and moved to the side, my arm out to push her out of my way, if necessary.

I felt a hand grab my arm, and it was pulled, as another hand grabbed the other arm, and a hand went over my mouth.

The woman who had spoken to me, stood stock still, as hands seemed to come from everywhere, pulling my arms behind my back, and then I felt the cold steel of the handcuffs, and I was pulled back, it was a woman, her breasts stuck in my back.

I heard the sound of a van, and I was bungled into the back, held by two people, the woman whose breasts were still rubbing against my back, and another person. I was pushed to the floor, and I felt someone put their foot on my groin and press, I moaned as the pressure increased, hurting my balls.

"You will open your mouth without a sound, or I press harder," the woman said, adding a little more pressure, to my balls.

She was now hurting me, I did as told, and some cloth was pushed in my mouth, and tape was put over it, the acrid taste made me wonder what on earth they had used to gag me.

Once gagged, she removed her foot, and they tied my ankles together, and then put something over an eye, and then over the other one, and taped it in place. Then they put something around my neck, and then something over my head, which they fastened to whatever they had put around my neck. Once I had been secured the van drove off. There were women in the back with me, I could hear them talking, but who, or what nationality they were I had no idea, but they were definitely, not English.

We travelled for a good half hour or so before the van came to a halt, my ankles were untied, and I was dragged out of the back of the van, and they put a different collar I presumed, around my neck, and then I felt a tug, and she said that I was to follow her. Simple if I could see, but I could not, and stumbled after her, a pair of hands took hold of my shoulders, and they told me that we were going down stairs, with each step she told me to step down, and I stepped down, had I not, I am sure that the woman with the lead would have just walked down, and allowed me to fall down behind her. We took a few steps once we had descended the stairs, and a door was opened from the sound of the squeaking hinges. I was led through it, she removed the lead, and then left me; I heard the door being closed, and locked, and was alone.

I stood there shaking, I was one point short of terror. What did they want? I didn't have any money, so why kidnap me? That is what they had done, I hadn't gone with them willingly, and after earlier today, I was not in a mood to be tolerant. But shackled, gagged and blindfolded, I had little option but to stand there until they came back, and hopefully they would tell me what was going on.

Chapter 2 - The Trial

 

How long I stood there I had no idea, it seemed like hours before they came for me, and took me out of the room, and into another one, where they shackled my wrists to a ring fixed to the wall, and my ankles I presume to one fixed to the floor, and again left me.

I was shaking with trepidation. What were they planning on doing to me? Why was I wherever I was? What did they want of me?

There was the sound of chairs being slid on a wooden floor, and the shuffling of people as they sat down.

Someone banged a gavel down, "This court is now in session," A female voice boomed out, and she added, "Remove the prisoners gag and blindfold."

Someone came up to me and removed the blindfold and the gag, for which I was very grateful.

"What is going on? Court, why? What am I accused of?" I demanded and looked around the room.

A court room was what it did seem to be, with this overweight woman sat on a raised area, and behind a bench type affair. She looked very serious and stern, and just glowered at me for the effrontery of speaking, I think.

Below her there were two tables with two chairs, and behind each one a woman sat in one of the chairs behind the table, between them and the bench was another table with a woman sat at it, with what appeared to be a typewriter in front of her. I had been positioned to one side at the rear in a box, with bars from floor to ceiling, the bottom half had a wooden surround around it. Over on the other side of the room was another box, but this didn't have the bars inside it, and I presumed that it was the witness box. The room was well lit, and was of a reasonable size.

"In my courtroom no one speaks without my permission. You will get your chance to defend yourself. Until then be silent, and listen to the witnesses," the big woman said from behind the bench.

"What is your name, and address?" she demanded.

"Peter Wilson, of one three four Glouster Road," I said.

"If it please the court? I have the documents we removed from the prisoner's pockets, when they were arrested. They prove that the defendant is one Paul Glebe, of twelve Ascot drive, and the owner of the premises. I also have a photograph of the prisoner, stood in front of the said shop, with the caption stating that he is the owner," one of the women sat at the two tables said.

"That was the papers, they got it wrong. I just work there," I said, angry at the mistake.

"I have told you once, I now repeat my rule. You speak when told to. Otherwise I will have you gagged again, there are only three chances, then you will be gagged, and you have had two," the big woman said, looking at me forcefully.

"You're Honour, with your permission? It was because of the papers printing the photograph that we were able to recognise him, and make the arrest. There has been no retraction by the papers, and my contact told me that no-one has complained that the information was inaccurate, and that they got the name wrong. Which they would have had the error been pointed out to them," the woman said, who was sat at the table to my right.

"I will require further evidence of this. Do you have any?" the big woman asked.

"As I said, we removed papers from the prisoner when we captured him, and they were all relating to that address with the name Paul Glebe. Perhaps the prisoner could explain why he has these papers in his pockets, if they do not belong to him?" the woman from the table said, pointedly.

"I work there, and I have the keys to open up, and I, well I erm, the boss asked me to keep hold of them, for him," I said, which wasn't a lie, Paul had asked me to hold onto them he was pulling a fast one, on one of the suppliers.

"You don't seem too sure about that. I am satisfied that you are the person in question, the photo in the papers, the bills found in your pocket and the card with that address on it, points to you being that person. Why else would you have bills in your pocket?" the big woman asked me.

"Because the boss asked me to, he, well, he was trying to delay payment on the bills, and told the rep that he hadn't received them," I admitted.

"So you are deceitful, as well?" the big woman asked me.

"No, no I am honest, I was just helping him out," I pleaded.

"You hide papers, bills from a rep, so as to cheat him, and you tell me that you are honest. Quite a contradiction in terms, isn't it? Having been caught, if you will deceive the rep, why not me? I accept that you are Paul Glebe, and will face trial," the woman said formally.

"But, I am not, I can prove it," I pleaded.

"I have warned you twice now, this is the last time, you speak when I say," she said forcefully.

I shut up, later I would have my chance. What the fuck had Paul done, to create this level of attention? I wondered.

"For the benefit of the prisoner, many women who wish to raise a charge of sexual crimes feel that they are judged unfairly. Their clothes elicited the attack, their demeanour, their conversation. With comments such as, 'We all know that when a woman is asked for sex, she refuses, which means take me.'

Well here they get a fair trial. We do not judge the woman, just the crime, and can have the perpetrator subjected to many forms of punishment, depending upon their crime, if found wanting. Here we are all women, and empathise with victims, but we also demand that the crime be proven. We hear the prosecution first, and then the defence, and then I make the ruling, and pass sentence," the big woman informed me.

"You are making a very big mistake. I am not Paul Glebe, and I will sue the arse of you, bitch, dragging me down here like this. I have told you the truth," I yelled at her.

"Gag the prisoner, I will not have you swearing in my court, or swearing at me. We have sufficient evidence in the form of the invoices addressed to you, and the photograph of you stood outside your shop, with the caption including your name.

That cock and bull story about the cheating of a supplier, just goes to show how low you will stoop, with your deceit," the big woman said, as a woman held a piece of cloth under my nose waiting to put it into my mouth. I kept my mouth shut, and then I felt my balls being crushed, and opened my mouth to shout, which was when she stuffed the cloth into my mouth, and put the tape over my lips. Again I got that acrid taste as my saliva moistened them, and I swallowed.

The woman by the right hand table stood up when told to, and gave her opening speech.

"I will prove beyond any doubt that the accused did on three occasions attack three separate women, he grabbed their breasts and felt at their clits. I admit over their clothes, but the assault did take place. He then pushed them away so hard they stumbled and almost fell, giving him time to duck into the bushes and escape. I have the three women in question, and they are willing to give evidence against the prisoner," she said, and sat down.

The other woman stood up and looked at me, she raised her arm and pointed to me.

"The prisoner, my client, has protested his innocence, to the point of being gagged, the women in question, did not see their assailant, the assailant attacked from behind.

My learned friend expects you to convict a man on their somewhat circumstantial evidence. They never saw their assailant. My client is of good character, and runs a very successful bakery, one I actually use. Why he denies being the person in question, defies me. I have to admit that he is the one that always serves me, and has never corrected me when I called him Paul," she said, and sat down.

The first woman was called to the stand and she gave a very full account of the attack, in which I was alleged to have sneaked up behind her, and wrapped my arms around her, putting a hand on each breast, and fondling it for a few seconds, and then put a hand down to her groin and rubbed it, before pushing her harshly and making my escape.

When asked if she had seen her assailant? She replied that she hadn't, but she knew he had large hands, she was not short in the bust area, and he cupped her breasts fully.

"So you cannot say without any doubt that the man stood in the dock was your assailant, can you? He could, or could not be, the man in question?" My defence lawyer said.

"No, you are right. I cannot identify him as my assailant, but he could be," she said, and was told to stand down. The second one told her story, again it was that I had grabbed her tits and clit for several seconds, and then ran, but this time she looked at me hard, and told the court that she was sure that I was the man.

"How can you be so sure when he grabbed you from behind?" My lawyer asked her.

"He came to the side of my face, and I saw his eyes, they were the same colour, I notice things like that, and I regained my footing quite quickly and saw him run into the bushes, and he was of that build. He also smelled of baking, can I sniff him?" the witness asked.

The judge allowed it, and she came over to me and sniffed at me, then said that it was me, she was sure.

The third woman came in and of all of them she was he one that I could have grabbed, she was younger and had a much nicer figure than the other two, a nice pair of melons, rip and juicy. I felt my cock reacting just to the sight of her, and my thoughts, as she described the attack on her.

She again told the court that I had grabbed her breasts and fondled them, but this time I had pushed her low cut top down, and her bra, freeing her breasts and fondled them flesh to flesh as it were? Squeezing them and her nipples. Also this time, I had put my hand up her dress and fondled her clit over her knickers, making her wet, and I had spoken to her, telling her that she was nice and wet.

Again my lawyer asked her how she could be certain that I was the assailant, seeing as I grabbed her from behind.

"I had my camera with me, and took a photo as I fell, it isn't that good, but he is the man," she said bluntly.

"I enter the photo as exhibit 'A,' into the court, your honour," the prosecution said.

They all took a good look at the photo with several glances at me, just to confirm their thoughts.

The judge decided to have lunch and adjourned the case till after lunch. I was taken back to my cell. I suppose that is where they keep prisoners, isn't it? And they removed the gaga and fed me, being in shackles they had to physically feed me, and then gave me a drink of water, and then I saw why the cloth had the acrid taste, as one of the guards removed their panties, and they were stuffed in my mouth. A knee in the groin is very persuasive, when they want you to open your mouth. As one of the guards pushed up the other waited until I opened my mouth to yell, and stuffed her panties in, and then put the tape over my mouth.

"We can't have you shouting at the judge now, can we?" the one stuffing her panties in my mouth asked, and taped my mouth up.

I was taken back into the courtroom and put back in the box, once the room had settled again, and the judge had stated that the court was in session, my lawyer stood up and said that she called me to the stand.

"I am not happy with releasing the prisoner, they can give their evidence where they are," the judge said.

"You deny the attacks. Why is that?" my lawyer asked me.

"Because I didn't do it. I find it hard enough to believe that Paul did. I am sure the women are mistaken. Besides I was in the pub, ask the lads," I said.

"On the three specific nights that you say you were in the pub, how many lads, as you put it, were with you?" she asked me.

"Oh, six, seven we have a couple of pints and then played some pool or darts. I am in there most nights," I said happily.

"So you have proof that you were not at the scene on those particular nights?" she asked me.

"Yes, I would have been in the pub," I replied.

She sat down and the prosecution lawyer stood up.

"I expected this, and went to your local and another couple of pubs locally, and no-one remembers you being in there. How do you explain that?" she asked me.

"You asked about Paul, I am not Paul. Paul goes to a different pub, when he goes out," I replied.

"Your honour, just as a safe guard. I would hate it if you had any reservations about the case. I ask for an adjournment till tomorrow, so that I, and my learned friend, if she so wishes, can visit the pub tonight, and ask not about Paul, but about both men. Ensuring that we have covered all bases, as it were?" she asked the judge.

"I agree, we will adjourn till tomorrow at ten o'clock am. Take the prisoner back to the cells," she said formally.

"Your honour, I have been here for some time, and I need a bathroom, desperately," I said.

"The guards will attend to you," she said, unconcerned about my plight.

I was taken back to the cell and the guards as she put it undid my trousers and pulled them down.

"Hey, hey what are you doing?" I demanded shocked.

"You can't go to the toilet with your trousers up, can you?" one of the guards asked me.

"No I thought you would release the shackles to allow me to go. I am capable, you know?" I asked, still shocked at her actions.

"Then we would have to fasten them again, and you may object, this way we don't have to. Now open your legs up, nice and wide?" she asked me.

The other guard began to tap between my feet getting closer and closer to my toes with the hammer. I move my feet away frightened that she might hit my toes. Once they were as wide as they wanted, she put something on me.

"What the fuck is that?" I demanded.

"It saves us from having to take you to the toilet, and undoing your shackles, they are incontinence pants, now you can pee to your heart's content," she said, with a nasty smile, and pulling my trousers back up and fastening them.

"You what!" I exclaimed, "You want me to piss myself?" I asked shocked.

"No, we just made it possible for you to empty your bladder, without wetting your trousers and the floor. If you don't want to go, then don't, it is up to you, entirely," she said, unconcerned about my feelings, and left me.

"Wait, wait, I won't do anything. I will allow you to shackle me again. Don't make me piss myself, please," I begged after them, as they left giggling.

They didn't even glance back at me as I struggled to hold on, but finally couldn't, and wet myself, it was shaming.

The next morning they led me as I was, still wearing the wet nappy into the court room, and shackled me as I had been the day before. The judge called the court to order and said that it was in session.

"Your honour, I am disgusted. They didn't allow me to use the toilet, as a civilised person would, they just put a nappy on me, and made me piss myself, and they have not changed it. I am shocked and utterly shamed to have to tell you this, those cunts, made me piss myself. Have you no decency?" I demanded, as she started the second day of my trial.

"The guards have a duty to protect themselves, and with your outbursts and the violent crime you are accused of, they justifiably took precautions," she said calmly.

"Fucking hell woman. A person is innocent until proven guilty, don't you know the fucking law," I demanded angrily.

"Yes I do, and as such you are being given a fair trial, even if you insist on being gagged the whole time, gag him," the judge said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I told you yesterday the consequences of swearing in my court, you just did, twice," she said.

The knee was placed as usual and began to press as the panties were placed by my mouth, and then pushed inside as I opened my mouth to yell in pain, and the tape was put over my mouth.

"I will hear about last night first," the judge said.

"Your Honour, we both went to the pub and asked the locals if either of the people named in this case were present on any of the nights in question. They undeniably stated that neither of them were there.

I asked how they were so sure, and they told me that on two of the nights there had been a pool competition, and they were a man short the other person in question was missing, so they were certain. The other night they were confident that neither were present, because of the football match being shown.

If we accept that the person in the dock is Paul Glebe, then he does not go to that bar. If on the other hand we suppose that the person in the dock is Peter Wilson, then he was also not at the bar in question on those particular nights. Either way, they have no alibi," the prosecution said.

"Now we have a problem, don't we? Rather you do, I mean. Where were you on the nights in question, you were obviously not in the pub, as you stated, another lie? How many lies do you intend to tell, Paul Glebe?" the judge asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, I couldn't do anything else.

The lawyers then gave their summing up speeches, the prosecution pointed to the three women and their statements, the photo, the paper and invoices in my pocket, and the deceit I was about to enter into. She also pointed to my untrustworthiness because of the deceit, and my lies about being in the pub, when I was not. She also commented on the honesty of the women who were attacked.

My lawyer stood up and to me threw in the towel, she had nothing except my word, I didn't do it, but I couldn't prove it, she tried, but I knew I was lost.

"I have heard all the evidence and I am convinced that you are Paul Glebe and that Paul Glebe was the person who assaulted the women. I sentence you to two years slavery, at a woman's correctional prison," she said, and banged the gavel down, sealing my fate.