The Retribution of Sam Horiwitz

The Retribution of Sam Horiwitz

by Melanie Brown

Copyright  © 2012 Melanie Brown

Sam's troubles only started with his execution.

It's recommended that The Execution of Sam Horiwitz be read first. -- Ed

With one last powerful thrust, my last client of the night released his load deep inside me as he let out a primal yell. I let out a loud moan of pain instead of pleasure as he had a clump of my hair firmly grasped in each of his hands. My breasts were red from being rubbed raw by my client.

He remained inside me as he collapsed on top of me, his slowly withering member still pulsing his seed into me. Sweat dripped from his shaggy, unkempt hair and his three day beard growth was rough against my skin.

“You like that, don’t you bitch?” The stench of his alcohol contaminated breath made my eyes water. “But then, all you bitches like that.” He slapped me, hard. “How about that, you worthless little cunt?”

He rolled off me, and sat up. He grabbed my hair and painfully jerked me to a sitting position. “You stupid little whores are programmed with five hundred ways to pleasure a man and you’re still fucking predictable!” He struck me hard across the side of my head. I fell back onto my bed. I could taste blood in my mouth.

“Look at you!” he shouted. “I just beat the shit out of you and there you are, smiling at me.” He shook his head and scowled.

Fighting back tears, I said, “I’m here to please you, sir. I just want to make you happy. Would some oral please you?”

In a rage, he grabbed me by my hair again and dragged me to my feet and shouted, “No! That won’t please me! I don’t think you could ever please me again!”

I was horrified. My face didn’t show it. I’m sure I was wearing that same dumb smile I had to show all my clients. In the little corner of my brain where my original consciousness was locked away, I always knew I would die on this pathetic rock at the hand of a client. They were always abusive. The company that owned us prostitutes actively encouraged clients to slap us around. If one of us got broken or died, well, there were always more on the way.

But I didn’t want to die. Not here. Not this way. This life I now had may be insanely miserable, but it was still the only life I had. Every night I dreamed of escape. It was rumored that some had.

My client grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and shook me viciously shouting with a cry in his voice, “I hate you fucking bitches! All you do is mock me!” He then shoved me hard towards the wall. I tripped backwards over the bed and was flung headlong into the corner of my dresser. I saw a bright flash of light and then nothing.

*          *          *

My head was killing me when I slowly began to wake up. I touched my head through my thick, long hair and winced at the pain. When I pulled my hand back, there was blood on my finger. I stumbled as I tried to get on my feet. I held my head as I felt very dizzy for a moment. A veil began to lift over my mind. I suddenly started to remember things. Things I decided I really didn’t want to remember.

At the back of my mind, I always knew who I was, but it was like being in a dream. I had no real control. My last conscious thought was of being strapped into that horrible chair. I had thought I was going to die. And in a way, I did.

I stood up straight and looked around the room. My room. I had no idea how long I had been in this small room, dominated by a large soft bed with satin sheets. A closet filled only with lingerie. A small vanity, covered with bottles of cosmetics. I’m a whore. I’ve had sex with literally hundreds of men.

Memories began to wash over me. Being herded into a small waiting room with dozens of other confused girls and then being loaded up into trucks. Being knocked out by some strange smelling gas and waking up in this room. I remember being told I was going to be able to have all the men I wanted and this made me happy. I was never allowed to leave the room. I didn’t want to. I wanted men.

Knocking my head must have cleared whatever it was that they were using to control me. Finally I was in full control of my faculties. But I was still stuck in the body of an over-sexed nineteen year old girl.

Just then, the door to my room opened and a young, very attractive man entered. On mostly reflex, I smiled and said, “This is my rest period, sir. If you return to the lobby, I’m sure…”

“Shut up, you stupid whore,” said the cute guy. “An alarm went off during your last client’s session. Let me check your head.”

I walked over to him and he turned me around. He said, “Yep, you got a nasty cut there. I don’t think there’s any permanent damage. This probably knocked some of your conditioning loose.” He turned me back around and said, “Let me give you an injection of the neuro-agent just in case. It should keep you making clients happy until we can get you a brain tweak when the tech makes his rounds. Hold still a moment, slut.” He reached for some device he had clipped to his belt.

This was going to be my only chance. If I didn’t succeed, I’d be no worse off than I already was. He glanced down at the injector. He wasn’t expecting any resistance. As fast and as hard as I could, I swung my fist to the side of his head. He stumbled back, dazed for a moment. I leaped at him, but he managed to stand back up, and block the punch that was intended for his nose.

He raised the injector with one hand while he held one of my hands firmly in an awkward position against the wall. I grabbed at his injector hand with my free hand, but I was no match for his strength. I couldn’t hold it back.

He grinned with pretty white teeth and sparkling blue eyes that just made you want to melt. He said, “You stupid cunt! You thought you were going to get away? I’ll give you a double dose that possibly could erase what memories you have left!”

The man was standing directly in front of me, which was not a good place. As hard as I could, I kicked him in the groin. He loosened his grip on my arm and I managed to push back at him, and he stumbled on the edge of the bed and fell over backwards and I fell on top of him, knocking the breath out of him. I pulled the injector from his grasp and before he could react, I slammed it against his throat and squeezed off two doses.

Holding his neck, he screamed, “Oh my God no! What have you done?” He started to reach for a pouch on his belt and mumbled, “I got to get the antidote!” He managed to pull out a couple of pills, but I kicked them out of his hand. He just looked at the pills where they landed on the floor, with a horrified expression.

And then his expression changed. He began to smile vacuously. He then looked worried and said, “Oh! I must look a mess! My clients can’t see me this way!” He then quickly removed his clothes, and slipped into some of my lingerie from the closet. He then sat down at the vanity and started fussing with make-up.

For a moment, I marveled at how quickly the neuro-agent had worked. I then removed my lingerie and quickly put on the man’s clothing. It was a bit too large, but it would have to do. I clipped the injector back on the belt. I pulled my hair back as tight as I could to make pony tail. I put the tail part down the back of my shirt. The shoes didn’t fit at all, so I put on several pairs of socks. I knew my time was running out.

I opened the door and took my first ever steps outside my love nest. I stepped into a narrow hallway lined with doors. There were lights above each door to indicate which ones were in session and which ones were open for clients. I saw no one in the hall and picked a direction that I hoped was the right one.

It didn’t matter. The hall was circular and opened into the lobby. The lights were down to set a romantic mood. To my right, was an open doorway that led to the interior of what appeared to be a crowded corridor lined with shops. It didn’t dawn on me until later that all the interior of this rock looked this way as the exterior was uninhabitable.

There was another door, labeled “Office”. I tried the knob, but it was locked. I felt inside the pockets of the pants I was wearing and found a set of key cards. It took a couple of tries to find the right key card, but with the door unlocked, I stepped inside.

A man sat with his back to me. He was sitting at a computer station, staring intently at the screen. Without turning around he said, “About damn time, Durst. I was beginning to wonder wher…”

Before he could finish his comment, I injected the neuro-agent into his neck. Before he could turn around, I picked up a nearby phone and bashed his head with it. I pushed his unconscious form out of the chair and sat down.

The computer wasn’t much different from the ones I and almost everyone else, used at their work. And best of all, it had a full hyper-net connection, that wonderful technology that used permanent worm holes as if they were fiber-optics.

A few keystrokes and I found that my bank account was still active. There wasn’t much in it as my automatic deposit of my paycheck had stopped when my employment was terminated on my conviction.

I did a quick inspection around the office and after a few minutes, I found a log book with all the passwords written in it. A few minutes more and I was in the billing software of the whorehouse I worked at. I was shocked. Each girl had an account to keep track of how much they were being used and how popular they were. I had been on this rock having sex with a different man every hour for fifteen hours a day for eighteen months. I was one busy girl.

I was very popular it seems. For the last ten months, men were paying upwards of a hundred forty credits for an hour with me. The usual price was between twenty and fifty credits. For the last ten months, I had earned…one hundred forty times fifteen times thirty, carry the one…um..well, it was a butt-load of money. Using the passwords the log book provided, it was the work of less than half an hour to transfer around one and a half million credits to my bank account on Earth. I took only what I felt was rightfully mine with a little extra gratuity tossed in for good measure. A new bank card with the name Samantha Horiwitz would also be waiting for pick up at the local branch of United Earth Bank within another half hour.

I also booked passage on the next ship, a tramp commercial hauler, off this rock using whorehouse funds. It was leaving in three hours. Also, while online, I ordered some clothing and luggage suitable for a traveling business woman and had it delivered to my room on the hauler.

To cover my tracks, I unlocked all the girls’ doors so they could roam free. They’ll probably just wander around confused, but it would make a good diversion. Lastly, I erased the memory and storage of the whorehouse computer and deleted the backups stored back on Earth.

I started to leave the office, when I walked over to the man lying on the floor. I bent down and gave him another injection of the neuro-agent. As I stood up, I said, “I hope you enjoy your new life as much as I did.” I walked out into the lobby where there was already a lot of confusion with girls roaming free. I walked out into the brightly lit and crowded corridor.

*          *          *

The trip back to Earth was largely uneventful. Three jumps through the gates and one calculated jump brought us back to our solar system within a week. Lastly a month long trip at full acceleration followed by three weeks of deceleration would bring us to one of Earth’s docking stations.

I used the time to plan and re-plan what I was going to do when I reached Earth. It wasn’t perfect and involved a great deal of risk. I was counting on men to act like men.

There was also some buzz about my jailbreak on the news. The authorities still weren’t sure what had happened and as of the last broadcast that was a week old, they still didn’t have all the girls accounted for. It seems a bunch men were taking the girls home with them.

The ships crew was highly disciplined and largely left me alone. The only time I mingled with them was during meals. Being the only woman aboard the ship, the captain always invited me to share his table. I kept expecting him to also invite me to share his bed, but he never did. He even tipped his cap to me as I left the ship to board one of the orbit-to-surface shuttlecraft.

*          *          *

My shuttle landed at the New York City shuttle terminal. I got a room as close to the courthouse as possible. The court was going to be open for a few more hours, so I changed into a nice business style dress though the skirt was a little short, and walked the block down from my hotel to check out the court house.

I immediately started to feel uneasy as I entered the building. This was the final resting place of Sam Horiwitz. There were people milling around. I looked at the directory posted on the wall for Judge Schlect’s court room. I took a deep breath and headed for that room.

I had to fight a wave of nausea as I took a seat on one of the padded benches in the court room. The judge had not yet arrived. The court recorder was checking his equipment. The accused was sitting nervously in his chair with his lawyer. The same crappy lawyer that did nothing to help me. Just like when I sat waiting for the judge to arrive, there were very few people in the audience.

The bailiff called out, “All rise! Judge Schlect presiding.”

My eyes narrowed as the judge entered the room and took his seat. I had to fight to restrain myself from just jumping up behind him and twisting his neck; so strong was my hatred of the man who had turned me into a woman and sent me off to die as a dim-witted whore on some shithole mining asteroid. Instead, I quietly seethed, my eyes boring a hole in his head.

The judge smiled at the courtroom and said, “You may be seated. Bailiff, let’s get started.”

The bailiff announced, “The defendant is accused of spitting on a public sidewalk, your Honor.”

The judge’s face clouded over with rage. He said, “How does the defendant plea?”

The lawyer stood up and barely even glanced up at the judge as he said, “We enter a plea of not guilty, judge.”

Judge Schlect pointed to the prosecutor and said, “Call your first witness.”

The prosecutor stood and said, “I call Mrs. Ciego to the stand.”

At hearing her name, a bent over, shriveled old lady wearing glasses with extraordinarily thick lenses stood up. She shuffled towards the stand, balancing herself with a cane that seemed a few inches too short.

The bailiff held out an Elvis CD and said, “Raise your right hand and place your other hand on the CD. Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?”

Mr.Ciego looked over the top of her glasses at the bailiff and said, “What did you say?”

The bailiff started to repeat his question when the judge waved to the chair in the witness box and said, “Let’s speed things up. Go ahead and sit down Mrs. Ciego.”

After she was settled into the witness stand, the prosecutor said, “On or around five p.m on the date in question, did you see the defendant do anything egregious?”

Mrs. Ciego said, “What?”

Frowning, the prosecutor said, “What thing did you see the defendant do?”

Pointing a boney finger at the accused, she said, “He horked a loogie right there on the sidewalk in front of me!”

Scowling, the judge slammed his gavel on his desk and said, “That’s good enough for me! I hereby sentence the defendant to death to be carried out…” He leaned over and said in a low voice that I could just barely hear, “When’s the next truckload going out, Rupert?”

Rupert said, “Tomorrow morning, judge.”

The judge placed his arms on his desk, his hands clasped tightly and said, “I hereby sentence the defendant to death, to be carried out tomorrow morning at seven a.m.!”

The defendant jumped up and shouted, “No! You can’t do that! For spitting? I have a wife! And three kids! I’ll…I’ll pay a fine…but death?”

Judge Schlect waved his hand dismissively and said with obvious disgust, “Take him away!”

The defendant’s voice faded as the door closed on the hallway to the jail cells. His lawyer took out a nail file and started filing his nails.

The judge said, “What’s the next case, Bailiff?”

Rupert the bailiff said, “Case number B one two five eight five, judge. The defendant is accused of taking a picture of a fire hydrant.”

Judge Schlect shook his head and muttered, “Just what is this city coming to?”

*          *          *

It was difficult trying to not attract attention while waiting for Judge Schlect to emerge from the courtroom. It’s especially hard to not attract attention when you’re a long legged young woman in heels and a very short skirt and exposing a lot of cleavage. I had brought a particularly powerful pheromone in my purse and gone to the little girls’ room after the last case and sprayed it fairly heavy on my neck and inside my cleavage.

I was at the water fountain when my patience was finally rewarded as the judge finally exited the courtroom and started walking down the long hall to the elevator. I turned to follow him. I made no attempt at stealth. The clicking of my heels on the hard floor echoed down the hallway. Even though his back was to me, my hips swayed and my boobs jiggled as my inner whore began to surface. I didn’t try to fight it. In fact, I was counting on it.

I caught up with the judge at the elevator and before he pressed the down button, I leaned against the door and breathless (it was a long walk) I said, “Judge Schlect!” I adjusted my cleavage for the best advantage. I licked my red lipstick covered lips and breathed, “I just wanted to let you know how much I love your work!” I leaned closer to him and continued, “I just love the way you handle those miscreants and fearlessly give them what they deserve! Mmmm. It really gets me hot.”

Looking at my breasts, Judge Schlect said, “Um, well. Thank you, miss. I work very hard to keep the city safe for wonderful citizens like yourself. And now if you’ll excuse me?” He reached for the elevator call button.

Talking in a pouty voice, I said, “Do you need to leave so soon?” I gave him a wide, suggestive grin and said, “Powerful men really turn me on, judge. And really get my juices flowing, if you know what I mean…?”

He gave me a quick smile and said, “Well, yes, miss. I need…um, I do need to go.”

“Watching you today showed such inner strength, such confidence, such raw sexual power on display that I couldn’t help but squirm in my seat. I even bet where I was sitting is still wet!” I giggled. “I would love to show you just how grateful I am for all the hard, thankless work you do day after day after day!” I pressed into him; my breasts touching his chest. I tapped my lower lip with my finger.

Beads of sweat began to appear on the judge’s forehead. He said, “I appreciate your gratitude, miss. I do need to go. I …I…”

I could actually see a bulge forming in his pants. In as sultry a voice I could muster, I said, “Are you sure you don’t have a teeny-weeny minute for little old me to give you my…deepest…appreciation?” I pushed my finger into my mouth and sucked on it a couple of times.

Judge Schlect looked nervously over his shoulder a couple of times and talking to my breasts he said, “You know, I just might have, um…a few spare minutes. Would you like to see my office?”

I smiled at him and said, “Oh, I’d just…love…to see your office.”

He smiled nervously and said, “Sure. It’s just down this hall and around the corner.” I followed him down to his office door. He fumbled around for his keycard and finally slid the card through the slot and opened the door.

Once he closed the door, I turned to face him. “Oh, you look so uncomfortable in that tie. Here, let me help you,” I purred. I then slowly pulled on his tie until it unraveled from his neck. Pressing my crotch into his, I could feel his hardness through my skirt and his pants. The whore that I had been for eighteen months was almost taking over, which I couldn’t allow. I detested this man for what he had done to me, but he was a man after all and my instincts were starting to blur my mission.

I kissed him as I started to open his pants. I forced my tongue deep into his mouth and he sucked on it, groaning. I kissed him hard, my lipstick smearing on his lips. He moaned with pleasure as his pants dropped to the floor. He swayed as his knees weakened. I slid down to my knees where his manhood stood at full attention.

“Now I see why you’re so powerful!” I said. He grinned and closed his eyes as I opened my mouth wide. And then I did something that he really wasn’t expecting. I reached quickly behind his legs and pulled my arms as hard as I could right behind his knees, causing them to buckle and collapse backwards to the floor, whacking his head on the wall as he went down.

I jumped up and kicked him in the groin as hard as I could to make sure he’d stay down for a few moments. I grabbed his tie and rolled him over onto his chest and pulled his pants and underwear off. I grabbed his arms and quickly tied his hands behind his back with the tie. I made it as tight as I could. I then pulled the belt from his pants and bound his feet with it. I stuffed his underwear into his mouth.

I went to his desk and turned on the display to his computer terminal. Just what I feared, he had a password. I waited for him to stir. When he groaned, I walked over to him.

“Okay, you piece of shit. What’s your login password?” I pulled the underwear from his mouth.

He struggled against his bonds as he lay naked on the floor. He looked at me with both hatred and surprise and said, “Fuck you, bitch!”

I kicked him in the nuts as hard as I could. He doubled over in pain. I said, “You want to tell me now?”

He spat at me and growled, “Go to hell!”

I kicked him again and he howled in pain, tears streaming from his eyes. I said, “I could do this all night. In fact, I rather enjoy it.”

In a whimpering voice, he said, “Stop. Please.” Gasping for air, he continued, “My password is h 3 11 0 k 1 t t y.”

I stuffed his underware, skidmark first, back into his mouth and said, “Thank you. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I sat down at his desk and quickly scanned the data it held for the people he had sentenced since the last “execution”. There were ten in all, being held in the basement jail where that evil machine was. I wished I could I help everyone who had been processed through this jail, but there really wasn’t anything I could do at this point.

I read through the convictions and saw they were all petty infractions that most people wouldn’t even think about. One poor soul had been convicted for putting his chewing gum under his seat in Judge Schlect’s own courtroom. With a few clicks on each of the ten men I reversed their convictions and cleared their records. Now I just had to get them out of their cells.

The judge’s computer was, to my good fortune, tied into the courthouse’s security system. I disabled all the alarms in the building and changed the password to the security console.

I started to get up to see about releasing the men from their cells, I had a sudden thought and sat back down. It took a few moments, but I found my own record in the computer’s database. I stared at my conviction trying to decide if I should over turn it and clear my record. I stood up, deciding that that me was gone and that it was pointless to try to return to even a part of it.

I took the judge’s keycard and gave him another kick in the groin for good measure and walked out of his office, locking the door.
With the exception of a few emergency lights that can never be turned off, the building was mostly dark. There was a guard booth on the basement level to guard the entrance to the jail. There was only one way in and out down there. My mind raced on how I was going to get past that security guard.

I passed by a decorative mirror hanging on the wall and like most women, I turned to look at myself. My make-up was smeared and my hair a mess. An idea suddenly gelled in my head.

I quickly made my way to the basement by taking the elevator. On the ride down, I ripped open my blouse and tore my hose. I burst through the door as the elevator doors opened and panting for breath yelled in the general direction of the security guard, “Oh thank God!” I ran towards him, shouting with a nervous voice, “You must help me! Oh, God! It was awful!”

The surprised security guard stood up and said, “Who are you? What are you doing in here!?”

I began to cry uncontrollably. One of my boobs was hanging free, exposed for the guard to see in all its glory.

Stupidly, the guard said, “Miss? Are you okay?”

Still crying, I said, “The janitor! He attacked me! He…he…he raped me! Oh my God, he raped me in the storage closet. I must have fainted. I woke up and the building was dark and empty! I was so scared! I thought he might come back for me!”

“You’re safe now, miss,” said the guard re-assuringly. He pointed at the chair at his desk and said, “Here. Sit here and I’ll get you a blanket or something to cover up and then we’ll call the police.”

I quickly scanned the small office for anything I could use. Against a wall leaned a metal folding chair. As soon as the guard’s back was turned, I leaped up, grabbing the folding chair and threw it as hard as I could at the guard’s head. With a clang of the chair and a crunch of his body, the guard fell face first to the hard floor. I ran up to him and pulled the handcuffs from his belt and secured his hands behind his back. I took his belt off and secured his feet. There was tape on the desk and I quickly taped his mouth shut.

With the guard’s keys, I opened the door to the cell room. Most of the men were asleep, but I could see a few in the dimly lit room, pacing in their cells.

One of the pacing men spotted me and walked up to the bars and said, “Who are you? You don’t look like a guard.”

The other two men that were awake also come to the bars of the cell and one said, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Several men begin to stir in the cells from the noise the others are making. I clapped my hands and said, “Wake up! May I have your attention?” I gave them a few minutes to all come fully awake and standing.

The first man to speak when I first entered the room said, “Well, who are you? What’s going on?”

I paced in front of the cells and said, “Look. I knew each of you have been given a death sentence for something trivial. All of you are scheduled to be executed tomorrow. But all of you face something far worse than just being executed.” I pointed to one end of the building where there was a solitary door. “A year ago or so, I was also sentenced to die. I entered that room a man and came out like this. I was then sold into prostitution on the mining worlds. All of you will wind up like me, if you don’t help me.”

“Bullshit!” said one of the men. “That ain’t possible!”

“There’s a machine in that far room that will transform you into an over-sexed teen girl.”

“Even miners don’t come back from the mining worlds,” said another man. “How did you get here?”

“I escaped and frankly it doesn’t matter how,” I said. “All that matters is putting an end to this prostitution ring so no one else has to go through what I did.”

“What do you want from us?” asked another. “It’s not like we’re hardened criminals who can over-throw the guards. I work at McDonald’s for crying out loud.”

“What’s your freedom worth?” I asked. “If you don’t agree to help me, I just walk away.” I jangled the keys in front of them. “Am I to believe that nobody here wants a little payback?”

One guy stood straight and said, “Sure, I’ll help you. I sure don’t want to die or become a hooker.” There followed a chorus of the men agreeing to help me.

I said as I started unlocking the cells, “If any of you fail to help me, we’re all screwed.”

One of the men folded his arms and asked, “Okay, now what, lady?”

I looked at the two strongest looking men and oh, did they have great muscles! I handed one of them the judge’s keycard. I said, “Go to the third floor, turn left at the first hall from the elevator and go to the last office. Use that card to open the door. Inside, all tied up is the judge that put you here. Rough him up if you want, but don’t kill him. Bring him back here, quickly.”

The two men nodded and hurried off. I looked at the remaining men and found one about the same size as the security guard outside the door. I pointed to him and said, “Outside the door is a security guard. Bring him back in here in one of the cells, and strip him and put on his uniform. I’ll give you other instructions later.”

*          *          *

A little after six a.m., another guard entered the jail area after going past my fake guard. As soon as he walked in, he was jumped by several guys and brought down to the floor. He was dragged to a cell and one of the men took his uniform. A few minutes later, a second and third security guard was also captured. I recognized each one as being there when I was strapped to that damned machine.

And finally, the machine’s operator entered the room. “Good morning, guys,” he said casually without really looking at the men in the uniforms. The guys dressed as guards followed the machine operator to the back room where he unlocked the door. He said as he entered the chamber, “Get the first prisoner and let’s get started.”

One by one, the bound and gagged guards were brought in and strapped into the machine. One by one, the new teen nymphomaniacs were placed in the holding room next to the chamber.

One of my fake guards said, “We just have one more.” The machine operator nodded behind the glass of his control booth.

Three of my guards dragged the bound and gagged judge along the floor. Horror flashed in his eyes as he was strapped into the chair. He squirmed and fought, but he was finally forced into the chair.

Having taken one of the guard’s guns, I walked into the room for the first time since I myself had been strapped to that infernal machine. The judge recognized me from the night before and looked at me with questioning in his eyes.

I put my face near his and said, “You’re wondering who I am, aren’t you? I’ll tell you, not that it’ll matter in a few moments. My name is Sam Horiwitz and about a year ago, you sentenced me to this machine and sold me into prostitution. Well, I made it back and making sure that this time, justice is served.”

I could hear his muffled, “No! No!” through the gag.

I touched his cheek and said, “You’re going to enjoy your new life, judge. For the short time you’ll live.”

I then opened the door to the control booth. The startled operator said, “What the hell is going on? What is the meaning of this?”
Pointing through the glass, he said, “Is that Judge Schlect?”

Through the glass, I waved the fake guards out of the room. To the operator I said as I pointed the gun at him, “Crank this up as high as it’ll go and still leave him knowing in the back of his mind who he is. I want him to know, but not able to do anything about it.”

I pointed the gun at his head and said, “I promise not to kill you as long as you turn this machine on.”

He looked at me, then the gun and out the window to the judge. I raised the gun level with his head. “You won’t kill me?” he asked.

“Promise,” I said, still holding the gun at his head.

Hesitantly, the machine operator flipped the switch to engage the machine. He tapped a few buttons and then slowly turned a dial that went from 0 to 11. The judge’s body convulsed and was obscured by a blinding light. The acrid smell of ozone filled the chamber and as the machine wound down, there in the chair was a buxom, pretty teen girl blinking in the bright light.

My fake guards came back in and led the newest prostitute to the holding room. After they closed the door on the confused, naked girls, I pointed to the machine operator and said to the men impersonating the guards, “Strap him into the chair as well.”

The operator gasped and screamed, “You said you wouldn’t kill me!”

“I’m not going to kill you,” I said casually as I stepped into the control booth. After the fake guards left the room, I performed the same operations that I had observed the operator performing. After a bright flash, another newly minted girl sat strapped and confused in the chair.

Just as the new girl was led to the holding room, the door that led to the outside opened to reveal a truck that had just backed up to the loading dock. Seeing only six girls, the truck driver said, “Slow week, huh?” I thought briefly about putting the driver in the machine too, but then there’d be no one to drive the truck.

The girls, naked and confused were loaded into the back of the truck. One of the girls stopped and turned to look at me with pleading eyes. And then a blankness passed over her face and she turned and got into the truck.

As the truck drove away, I turned to the men who had helped me said, “One more thing guys and then you’re free. I have expunged your records. You have no convictions. At least by Judge Schlect.”

“What’s next, boss lady?” one of the men asked.

“Destroy that fucking machine!” I almost shouted.

*          *          *

“Thank you Mr. Mayor,” I said, as I rang up the credits. “Same time next week?”

The gray-haired middle-aged man in an expensive suit smiled and said, “Unless it’s sooner! Madam Horiwitz, you run the best escort service I have ever patronized.”

“We aim to please, Mr. Mayor,” I said with a big smile. “Come back any time. And bring your friends!”

Growing up, I never would have believed that I’d own and operate a high class brothel in New York. Or anywhere for that matter. It may seem odd to some that this would be what I wound up doing with my life, all things considered. But, it’s what I knew, none of my girls were here against their will, they were paid well, taken care of and nobody better ever hurt one of my girls.

It had been a year since the machine had been destroyed. I wondered if the judge was enjoying his new life. Probably, since he was programmed to be pleasing…

*          *          *

The End

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