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Wages of Sin

By A Craig Newman All Rights Reserved ©

Scifi / Horror

Anne Marie

Anne Marie shook when she stood before the Executor in the Sentencing Hall. She could feel the presence of the guards behind her, hovering like specters of death, cloaked in the black uniforms of Law Enforcers. Wearing a bright orange inmate hospital gown, she waited, eyes down, for the Recounting. Before her stood a table covered in blue silk with a red pill, a syringe with clear pink liquid, and a glass of water.

She tried to be brave and strong, but a crime had been committed and punishment was due. Her courage failed her in the light of the implements of retribution. In that pill and syringe were the wages of a love gone wrong and her sin’s discovery. She would be punished today and tomorrow and for days to follow. She had heard stories of what awaited her. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wept openly.

The Judge, seated behind the Executor at a bench on a raised platform, wrote something down on papers before him. Anne Marie wondered if he truly wrote anything important or if his delay was simply a tactic to elicit fear and tension from her. He could be writing a letter to his favorite aunt, just to make Anne Marie’s blood pressure rise. She hated that this “tactic” was working marvelously.

The Judge straightened and organized the papers on the desk. Then, he stood and announced with great clarity, “It is time to mete Justice. Let those to be punished step forward.”

Anne Marie froze in place. She wept and shook violently, but was unable to make her feet move forward.

The Judge frowned. “Come. Come. The time for your tears is passed. You must receive your sentence now. Step forward or your sentence will be doubled.”

Anne Marie crumbled to the floor and crawled backwards. The guards behind her quickly hooked her arms and yanked her to her feet. They marched her forward until her thighs touched the table, almost pushing her onto it. As it was, she bent forward against her will, but was where the Judge wanted her to be.

The Judge picked up a paper and began to read. “Anne Marie Allan. You have been found guilty of crimes against Nature and Law in the acts of Adultery and Homosexual Carnal Relations. This cannot go unpunished. Sentence is to be executed immediately. The sentence for your participation in the criminal acts is Perpetual Stimulation and Re-education for one week. Will you submit to the punishment?”

Anne Marie briefly tried to relinquish herself from the guards’ iron grip, but to no avail. She shook her head, sending tears from her cheeks flying left and right. “Please, please, no. Don’t do this! I’m sorry!”

The Judge was unmoved. “Accept the punishment or the duration will be extended to two weeks.” The guards grabbed her wrists and placed her hands on the table.

The Executor held the pill in his right hand and the syringe in his left for her to see. “Take the pill, honey,” he said, “while you still have a chance.”

Anne Marie looked into the Executor’s eyes. He had the warmth of a grandmother trying to advise a grandchild considering running from an irate parent. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth. He placed the pill on her tongue and she swallowed with a gulp of water.

“Your sentence,” the Judge said, “will begin tomorrow and will last for seven days. You are to report to your home. Your warden will arrive in the morning. May God be with you.”

The guards released Anne Marie and the doors of the hall opened. She stepped back carefully, as if the whole process might start all over again if she dared to walk out of the room too boldly. The sound of weeping filled the hallway as she left.

That night, Anne Marie slept and dreamed.  She felt Tonya’s skin against her own – soft and sweet and moist with the sweat of passionate lovemaking. She tingled at every embrace and kiss.  The feeling of Tonya’s soft skin, the scent of Tonya’s hair, the sound of her breath was in Anne Marie’s head, on her lips, in her mouth, in her body, in her soul. Anne Marie was ravenous, hungry for more of it. She felt a familiar heat grow inside of her. The sudden presence of the Light Patrol breaking down the door of Tonya’s bedroom did not soften the heat.

The feeling of the knees in her back and the hands on her wrists didn’t stop Anne Marie from wanting to be touched. The cold metallic confines of the handcuffs made her wet. After she was dragged out of the room and down the stairs, she was in the open, naked for all to see. The force, the menace, the exposure, the eyes, the whispering neighbors – all the elements of the scene mixed together and overwhelmed her. Her stomach clenched and she screamed as wave after wave of pleasure and passion washed over her. Nothing seemed to stop the onslaught. The patrol stuffed her in the back of the Detention Van with her lover in separate cages. Anne Marie threw her head back and screamed until her body was spent and she rested on the cold steel floor of the van.

Then, she woke up. Anne Marie looked around her modest living quarters and lamented that she was not with Tonya after all. Would they be together again? She couldn’t be certain. They definitely shouldn't see each other until after their sentences have been served. Then, they could return to the secret rendezvous, far from the prying eyes of society, where they could make a serene island of peace while an ocean of chaos swirled outside.

Anne Marie had not not orgasm when she was arrested. She screamed and cried like a child as she was dragged out into public, exposed for judgment. Embarrassed and ashamed, she lay on the van floor and wondered what had gone wrong. The two lovers had always been so careful. Who knew what no one should know and ruined their wonderful but fleeting time together? Who destroyed the half-plans, notions, and the wishes for a future? Who robbed her of “Anne Marie and Tonya”? When they were together, they really were like one entity. They moved together. They understood each other. They connected. Sex was wonderful and love was possible.

Anne Marie could still feel the heat in her belly and between her legs.  Her flannel pajamas were soaked with sweat. She peeled them off and lay naked on top of the bedclothes. Her mind far away in another time and place with her Tonya, her hand found its own way between her legs. In mere moments, she was feeling her second orgasm of the night. Her mind stayed caught in the passion between her and Tonya, playing and replaying it in her head. She couldn't escape the thought of it, though she knew she should have.

It wasn’t enough. She was still so very hot. Her stomach clenched again. Hungry. More. Had to have more.

Steven, her husband, lay next to her, sleeping on his back. She touched his crotch and felt his nighttime erection. Quickly, she loosened his lounge pants. Steven woke up to her sucking on him and making him harder. He grabbed her and pinned her to the bed with his body. He slipped into her wetness hard and fast. She screamed from the pain of the thrust. He knew how tight she was but still roughly forced himself into her again and again.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, without pausing his strokes.

“Yes!” she screamed, clutching him closer to her.

“Good!”  He smacked her face. “Did she hurt you? Do you like to be hurt?”

“No! Stop it!” she whined.

Angrily, he pressed down on her shoulders and thrust himself into her thin small frame hard. She screamed anew. “Stop what? Hurting you? Why don't you stop hurting me, you lying, cheating bitch!”  With each thrust, she grunted a scream, some mix between extreme pleasure and gut-wrenching pain.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” she said. Her head lolled from side to side. She kept her eyes closed, incapable of looking at the man she betrayed.

He slapped her again. “Not yet, you're not.” He almost did not finish his sentence when he tightened up and gave in to a powerful orgasm. She could feel each spasm. The feeling of him filling her caused her to go over again.

When he lay next to her, spent and angry, she felt the burn of her unquenchable heat. She wanted more. She couldn't stop.

Anne Marie rolled over to him and rubbed her soft skin against his body. “Again?” she asked.

He pushed her away. “Forget it. Call your slut and ask her to fuck you ‘again’!” He walked out of the room and slammed the door.

Alone, her hands found those spots on her body that made her feel best and did not stop stimulating them until yet another pleasure wave washed over her. In the brief respite, she checked the clock. 6 AM. She should make breakfast, or at least some coffee since Steven did not get a full night’s sleep.

She stood to walk out of the room and doubled over immediately. The heat was within her. She needed release, comfort, affection, and she needed it all now. It did not matter that she was tired and drained. She had no energy for passion. That drive in her still pressed on, a hot poker inside her body that only seemed to respond, however briefly, to sexual satisfaction.

She needed more.

Unable to walk, Anne Marie crawled out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room, where her husband slept on the couch. She kissed his sleeping face and started to touch his body. He awoke instantly and pushed her away again.

“Get off of me, Anne Marie!”

She started to cry. “I can’t! I have to! Please touch me.” While she wept, she started to play with her body. He looked at her display – her splayed legs and her hand between them; her stiff nipples, sensitive and suffuse with blood, and her hand rubbing and pinching them; her tears pouring down her face; her pain – then he looked away.

“I have to get ready for work,” he said, abruptly, then walked past her towards the bathroom.

“No, Steven, don’t-!” She tried to beg for his attention but yet another flood of good feelings blocked her pleas. Her knees were weak and her legs were weary. “Should I make you breakfast?” she asked between ragged breaths.

“I don’t give a damn!” he called from behind the closed door.

Slowly and unsteadily, she walked into the kitchen. She tried to focus on the task at hand: make coffee, scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Each step betrayed her as the friction of her legs rubbing inflamed the persistent heat. Before she could reach the refrigerator, another orgasm racked her body powerful enough to bring her to her knees.

She crawled up the appliance and opened the door. She bit her lip, hoping the pain would block the burn of the heat. Focusing for just a moment, she withdrew the eggs and set them next to the stove before she should drop them. Next, the sausage. Feeling the long phallic food stuff caused the heat to rise again. She grabbed the bread quickly, sat it all on the counter, and then slammed the door.

Opening the cupboard door for the frying pan was torture when stretching her hands over her head caused the heat to shoot through her entire body. Still, she managed to procure the pan and get it settled on the stove. In the time between turning on the burner and finishing cooking the meal, Anne Marie had five more orgasms, not that she was counting any more. They caused her to drop eggs, spill coffee, and burn her hand on the pan. Pain cleared her head very briefly, but never for long.

When Steven emerged from the bathroom, naked and drying himself after a shower, Anne Marie had his breakfast on the table for him. Next to it, she was another offering, bent over and baring her backside for him. Though she wanted to control herself, she begged him to use her. He placed the plate on her back and slipped himself into her again. She didn't mind being used as a table, since the heat felt better when she had his cock in her. It wasn't much relief, but it was some. He used her while he ate, finished his breakfast, finished in her, and then walked away – not a word spoken to her. Anne Marie tried to follow him, but could not walk very far without coming again. As he prepped himself for work, she lay fetal on the living room floor, begging for his attention and coping with the heat as best she could. She tried to simply ignore the feeling. She still came, just not as quickly. When he came back out in his work boots and blue overalls, she was a pathetic, weeping creature on the floor.

There was a knock at the door. Steven opened the door as far as the chain would allow. A man's voice came from the other side, hidden from Anne Marie. “Hello, Mr. Allan. I’m Warden Jefferies from the Department of Corrections. These are my guards.”

Steven said, “I forgot you were coming today. Please come in.”

When Steven opened the door, three men in black uniforms and silver stars of law enforcement entered the room. Warden Jefferies, who wore a red armband, took charge.

“Ah, I see it’s taken effect already,” he said when he saw Anne Marie’s condition, and then impatiently snapped his fingers. The guards picked her up and carried her quaking, nude form into the bedroom. The warden and Steven followed. “This will do nicely,” the warden said. “Not too small or cluttered. Now, we need two chairs.” A guard vanished into the hallway and returned with two chairs from the kitchen.  He sat them on the far side of the bed.

Another guard helped Anne Marie get comfortable by placing a pillow under her head.  He focused on his task and ignored her attempts to take his clothes off or pull him on top of her.

“Ok, looks like we’re ready to begin,” the warden said.

The very thought of what was coming made Anne Marie climax instantly.

Steven stared at her with a mix of hatred, desire, and awe. “I’ve got to get to work,” he mumbled.

“No,” the warden said, “You’ll be excused from work for the next week while you serve your sentence.”

The guard that brought the chairs moved towards Steven who stepped backwards, startled.

“Steven!” Anne Marie yelled, but could not focus enough to continue the thought.

“Mr. Thomas, please have a seat,” the warden said. The guard grabbed Steven’s elbow before he was out of reach. Steven paused, caught in the vice of the guard’s grip which didn’t tighten to hurt him, but did not give in any way.  After a moment’s thought, Steven complied by sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. The warden sat in the other and produced a radio from his belt and spoke into it. “Ok, everyone, the sentence is beginning. Send them in.”

“Send who in?” Steven asked.

“Steven,” the warden said, “what Anne Marie is experiencing is punishment for her, reprisal for you, and reeducation for you both. Studies show that by going through this process, the community heals and is stronger via the reunification of your marriage. Do you understand?”

Anne Marie tried to comprehend what Steven and the warden said, but the haze of passion made it difficult for her to stay in the moment or participate in the conversation. She missed Steven’s response due to her own moaning from a surge of pleasure. When it ended, she tried to listen.

“You see, at some point, she’s gone wrong. She was under the impression that damaging your marriage was not important, and didn’t think of the effects that would have on the lives connected with your life, that is to say, friends and the community. Add to that the fact that she has sinned against Nature in that she lay with another woman. This is, of course, unacceptable. She must be punished in a manner appropriate for her crime. Hence, ‘Perpetual Stimulation’. She would not control her lustful urges when she had the opportunity; ergo now, she now cannot control her lustful urges at all. At least not for the next week.”

Even through her mental fog, the warden’s words came through clear to Anne Marie. She started to struggle and buck to regain control of herself, but then the next orgasm hit and she was unable to resist.

“You mean she’s going to be in perpetual heat for me for the next week?” Steven asked.

The warden let out a small laugh. “No, we have not focused the technique to have her ache for just one particular man. Besides, I’m sure you've taken advantage of her condition multiple times already. I doubt you could again so soon if you wanted to. No, she’s in heat for everyone right now. We have people who will be satisfying that urge in your place.

“These men will also be a part of your reprisal on her and the situation by acting out your role while you're unable to perform personally. As her husband, you can participate any time you wish.”

“Participate in what, exactly?”

Three men walked into the room, two wearing law officer garb and one chubby, naked man. The law officer wearing a red armband turned to Warden Jefferies. “Warden Jefferies,” he said by way of acknowledgement.

“Warden Smith,” Jefferies replied.

“Is she ready?” Warden Smith asked.

Anne Marie moaned, panted, and writhed on the bed. “She seems ready to go. How's your fag? Ready to ride?”

She turned her evanescent attention to the naked man, who was busily working himself up to stiffness. Once he had a decent erection, he tentatively crawled onto the bed and on top of Anne Marie.

“What the hell!” she heard Steven exclaim. There was a brief sound of the chair scraping along the hardwood floor and Steven in some slight struggle.

“Please remain seated if you're not going to join in.” Warden Jefferies spoke quietly. “And if you don't open your eyes, I'll instruct the guard to cut off your eyelids.”

She was worried for him, but that lost value when the naked man slipped inside her. He was fat and hairy and had a tattoo of an eagle on his chest. She found herself pulling him closer and deeper, but she stopped when he started to cry.

Warden Jefferies spoke in an even tone. “This is also the reeducation. You need to see and learn that you wife is a sexual being who needs to be appreciated and used. Studies have shown that her indiscretion is in part your fault for not fulfilling your husbandly duties to her satisfaction.”

“That's bullshit!” Steven yelled. Anne Marie forced herself to remain present and look at Steven. A guard had a headlock on him, forcing him to watch the proceedings.

Jefferies continued. “Numbers don't lie, Steven. You need to see how she both enjoys this act and hates that she's not doing it with you.”

Anne Marie tried to communicate with him through her eyes. Her shame, her sadness, her regret – it all burned away when she came again.

“You should be doing that to her, not some fag,” Warden Jefferies said.

“Why do you keep calling him a 'fag'?” Steven said.

“Because he is one, caught as guilty as your wife. This is part of his sentence and reeducation. But that's not important to you. You need to focus on learning your own lessons. Don't waste this opportunity, Steven.”

As the men talked, Anne Marie realized she heard another voice in the room. The second warden who came in with the naked man was talking to his prisoner. “See how soft she feels?” he said.

Anne Marie’s sniffling counterpart replied, “Yes!”

“See how happy she is to have you inside of her?”

“Yes!” the prisoner said through his tears.

“Doesn't this feel good?”

“Yes!”

Just then, the fag grunted and paused, pushing into Anne Marie one last time before withdrawing. She wiped his tears from her face. Then, the next naked man – this one much skinnier and more epicene in his actions – walked in and climbed on top of her.

“That should be you, Steven,” Warden Jefferies said. “She's your wife. And you let another woman distract her from that fact. She wants you, not some sweaty queer. All you had to do was bed her more often.”

Anne Marie wanted to announce her desire to never be touched by a man again. But she was trapped in the prison of her body. Nature told her to enjoy the moment; her nature told her to revile it. Her body was a war zone and she was the only casualty.

Steven said something that was muffled to her hearing.

Jefferies replied impatiently, “Spare me the excuses, Steven. If you wanted to, you'd make time. You'd find the energy. And now you see what happens when you don't.”

The next man came and went. A third man arrived for his reeducation.

The warden of the male prisoners started his questions over again with each new man. He had a bank of questions that he cycled through. Though stale, that stable of queries was potent.

“Don’t you see how right this feels?”

“She loves it and she wants more of you. Why don’t you give it to her?”

“Have you ever felt skin so soft on a man?”

“This is what God wants for you. Don’t you want to please Him?”

Each man twisted in some way under the pressure of these questions and an act against their nature forced on them. Some cracked and cried. Others tried to stand resolute and just continue their forced violation of the Allan’s marital bed. The rest were numb to the activity, just wanting their punishments to conclude so their debts to society would be considered paid.

The day wore on in that fashion. The men came, then came, and went. Anne Marie tried to count the men, but lost track between 20 and 30. Around that point, the pleasure she was feeling between her legs had converted to pure pain. Her clitoris was sore and swollen and her vagina was raw. Her orgasms became purely biological reactions to stimuli, cold and sterile with all the passion of a sneeze.

Over the course of the day, Steven relaxed in his seat. The guard no longer had to restrain him. He watched without struggle, but Anne Marie could see his mix of pity and shame and anger. Mostly, she saw the helplessness in his eyes; she felt it in her own soul. If she had foreseen that one detail, she wondered if she would have committed her crime.

Midday came and everyone stopped for lunch. The flow of men paused and everyone left the couple alone in the room. Anne Marie was practically insensate, though she tried to reach out to Steven. In a moment, he seemed to have vanished, but that could have been the effect of her blacking out. When she came to, she found herself propped against Steven’s chest with a cold compress to her head and a bag of ice between her legs. The ice felt good, but she wondered why it didn't melt instantly when pressed against the heat that still burned her. She felt a straw against her lips and realized Steven was trying to give her something to drink. She sipped and tasted an energy drink. She didn't know if it would be a good or bad thing to have more energy in a situation like this.

“I can’t do it,” she mumbled. “I just can’t.”

“I know, honey, I know,” he said. “It’ll be OK. Maybe they’ll see it’s too much for you and stop.”

“No, they won’t. They’re punishing me. And I want it. I still want it.” She started to cry.

“Please, fuck me,” she said through her tears.

Steven kissed her head and held her to his chest. His musky scent sent her into another cold and sterile orgasm. Then, she passed out.

Anne Marie awoke to find a black guy on top of her. She looked for the clock and realized it was 4 PM. She had slept for 3 solid hours. Sensation was lost and not just between her legs. This sentence seemed to have done its best to kill a piece of her soul.

And this was just the first day.

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