When a government penal facility is turned over to a publicly traded corporation and run for profits instead of the rehabilitation of the inmates, the rules of incarceration change dramatically. Care and treatment are designed to maximize revenue and minimize costs. Extravagances such as food and exercise are reduced to minimal levels, making prisoners as docile as possible. Once acclimated to the severe restraint of restricting cages, inmates find that parole and early release are rare occurrences. Once tamed, a prisoner best serves forever - like an annuity for the greedy shareholders. This is Penance Corporation, the latest advance in penal facilities.

When Antoinette Del La Corte, an unscrupulous federal prosecutor, overplays her power, she finds herself joining the many male prisoners at the Penance Corporation facility, contained in her own special unit were drastic measure have been used to ensure her cooperation. She has information that federal judge Patricia Wilmot desperately seeks, however, her final disposition is still unsettled. It is at this point that Book Three: Forced To Serve begins.

The Epilogue of Judge William T. Dennison

From Book Two - The Judge's Revenge

"Sit down, Judge Wilmot. May I call you Patricia?"

"Victor... Judge Hopkins... called me Pattie, Judge Dennison."

"Well hopefully then, we can dispense with formalities. I'm Bill and I'll call you Pattie."

With the shocking demise of Judge Hopkins, I have been appointed as the Chief Judge for the Eastern District of New York. At age 34, I am the youngest person ever to achieve such a lofty position in American jurisprudence. In being just recently assigned to the district shortly before Judge Hopkins' untimely departure, I need to acquaint myself with the players... my staff and judges. Having served for two years in nearby Manhattan most are familiar by reputation, if not having met at seminars and conventions.

So we sit in my chambers, those of the late Judge Hopkins, and converse.

I know Judge Wilmot to be open minded, hard working and capable... if somewhat erudite. She has many years experience and would have been recommended for the Court of Appeals years before... but for the nasty rumors of her sexuality.

"I guess the first item to discuss is this order appointing you as legal guardian in the unfortunate De La Corte matter... the non compos mentis writ."

I smile warmly, prompting discourse. Little does this prim looking woman of some fifty years know that last week, sent to me anonymously in the mail, was a brief videotape of a woman I judged to be in her mid thirties. In the video she is being caned naked while well strapped to a whipping bench. The forced position most ignominiously displayed her feminine charms... glimpses of a firm but dainty hand and uniquely powerful feminine arm divulged the gender of the assailant. Even if the label had not so identified the howling victim as Judge Patricia Wilmot, I probably would have been able to connect the two. The tape ended with a scandalous display of oral servitude... forever cementing in my mind the veracity of the rumors concerning the sexual preference of one of my most experienced judges.

"Yes, Bill. A very sad case. The former U.S. Attorney is insane and with child. Judge Hopkins was ready to sign the order when... well when his heart failed."

I sit back feigning concern. Pattie, Judge Wilmot, expects me to rubber stamp the order... her tone and facial expression suggesting the lacking signature of Judge Hopkins to be a formality easily rectified.

I amaze myself in remaining both stern and silent.

Judge Wilmot does not realize that my career in law began in the U.S. Attorney's office working under Antoinette De La Corte. Judge Wilmot does not realize that I became her loyal and obedient protégé. Judge Wilmot does not realize that the black leather covered whipping bench where she was taped receiving that merciless caning, probably one of many, is very familiar to me.

Included in the anonymous package mailed to me was a similar still photograph. The accouterments of the surrounding basement room had changed, but the bench remained solidly placed in the middle like an iconic piece of sculpture. On it, strapped to complete immobility, was a naked male form... the figure of a briefly clad, superbly conditioned female ominously looming above.

As in the tape, the governing female form remained faceless. But I know who it was... for it was my form lying below.

As stated, I was the loyal and obedient protégé of U.S. Attorney Antoinette De La Corte. And two days after opening the package, I received an equally anonymous phone call strongly suggesting that my loyalty should continue... along with my obedience.

"I think I need to reflect on this writ, Pattie. We'll give it a couple of days..."

I sit back arms akimbo, my body language implying that our meeting is over.

I am sure there will be a follow up call from the owner of that taunting aging female voice, testing my loyalty... challenging me to be disobedient.

Penance Corporation, Book III

Forced To Serve

Judge Wilmot leaves my office. She is pleasant but disappointed that I did not approve the writ appointing her as legal guardian of both Antoinette De La Corte and her 'issue', as forthcoming children are legally labeled. She expected me, in the hurley burley of acclimating myself to my new position of chief judge, to 'rubber stamp' this seemingly less important matter in order to focus on those matters more germane to smoothly transitioning the affairs of the late Judge Hopkins to my auspices.

Well, having received that package and phone call, nothing concerning Judge Wilmot will be rubber stamped.

With the post meridiem hour of five approaching, the administrative offices begin to quiet. If there is anything one can rely on in government it is the determination of bureaucrats to minimize the length of the working day. Thus I know activity will begin to wane and I can contemplate without interruption.

I open the credenza of my predecessor to find a small cache of spirits, glassware included. The late Judge Hopkins will not object to me pouring myself some of his fine single malt scotch.

My robe is discarded, putting to an end a hectic day. With feet up on the desk, I lean back in the large swivel chair and excogitate.

Judge Wilmot was most likely a frequent visitor to the Brooklyn dungeon of Antoinette De La Corte, as was I. Judging from her age as she appeared on the tape, it was many years ago. Now in her mid fifties, I judged her naked form to be that of some thirty years, the close up of her offering of oral gratification revealing a face with alluring but fading youth. An apparent twenty year interval has lapsed since the scene was taped.

For me the painful humiliating sessions began as a result of interning some ten years ago in the office of the U.S. attorney while in law school. Antoinette De La Corte was a promising senior assistant attorney, known more for her tenacity than jurisprudential excellence. Yes, she was aggressive, in the prosecution of law, in interaction with the staff and with life in general. It was not the first encounter with the woman to whom I reported which remains permanently etched in memory. But I know it was in the very early weeks of my internship. One tends not to forget supplicating to such power...

***

"Come into my office, Willie," she commanded late on one afternoon.

Office visits were unusual for Assistant U.S. Attorney Antoinette De La Corte. Her style was to step from her office and bark commands to those serving at the pool of paper laden desks in the noisy cathedral-like well of clerks and assistants. She enjoyed exercising authority, even in demanding coffee. Sending a recent law school graduate on a menial errand seemed to bring glee, bringing forth a wry smile as her instructions ended with her standard closing admonishment... 'and don't dawdle'.

So to be called into her office meant she either intended to bestow praise, quite rare, or one's infraction was so sizable that a private rebuke was deemed compulsory... usually followed by a public declamation of incompetence to add to the intensity of the retribution.

"I prefer Bill, ma'am," I humbly beseeched in stepping into an office notably devoid of clutter.

"Well, we've got a couple of 'Bill's' in the office. You're going to be Willie for me."

I shut the door as every private session mandated. Then, as usual, I found myself gazing in awe at the woman who made men tremble. I suppose she was in her early thirties at the time. Her hair was dark, parted in the middle and trimmed to hang straight down at the jaw line. The simple style and the athleticism exhibited by a curvaceous body which dour pant suits could not cloak, suggested a devoted exercise regimen. I pictured her working out during lunch breaks with a quick shower and brief comb sufficing to return her appearance to the mundane of office work. Little did I realize in what form she expended most of her energy.

She leaned against her desk, crossing her shapely well muscled calves as well as her arms. Her movement caused me to divert my eyes, never passing an opportunity to glimpse at such displays of formidable femininity. She caught me. When I glanced back to her face, that wry smile appeared, just as when it did while she dictated instructions to grown men as if they were errand boys.

"Yes, that's exactly why I needed to speak to you. You have this wayward gaze about you, Willie. All men sneak peeks, but you stare. A counter productive habit for those charged with upholding the law."

I gulped, not realizing my peeping was so evident... which it wasn't with other women. There was something particularly alluring about Ms. De La Corte. The combination of demanding persona, physical power, and handsome good looks provided quite the aura. More beauty would have oddly detracted from her imposing demeanor, though that is not to stay she even approached unsightliness.

"I'm sorry, Ms. De La Corte. I did not know it was so noticeable."

"It is. Do you look at all women like that?"

"No, ma'am. I don't think so."

"Good. I am comforted in knowing that I won't have to bail you out of the Brooklyn jail on some charge of lewd behavior."

Her smile broadened and she lowered her hand to ever so slightly clasp a fold of her skirt at the waist. The subtle motion caused the hem to rise, showing just a little more calf, which, in cursing myself, again diverted my gaze. She looked straight at me as my eyes once again roamed to the now expanded show of muscle and feminine allure.

I could not help myself... and she knew it. It was like that old childhood game of telling someone not to think about an object... knowing that such a suggestion will completely distract the attention.

"Want to see more? You seem incorrigible, Willie. I've had pet puppies display as much obvious fondness for my legs, humping away... but that's when I had them snipped."

She snickered and lifted a little more. I could not deny her visual offering and in turn gaped more. Her words rang with sarcasm and irony... that a male canine would find himself earning a quick trip to the veterinarian for the untoward conduct I was exhibiting.

"You have eight weeks remaining before returning to law school, Willie. Perhaps we can ameliorate your annoying habit without drastic surgery," her words pleasant but stern.

I just nodded, not knowing how to respond. In interacting with this woman, who was some ten years my senior and very much in charge, silence seemed to be best. Internships are wonderful learning experiences unless one earns less than a glowing performance review. In such case a career in jurisprudence can quickly disintegrate.

"You'll have coffee and fruit waiting for me every morning, Willie. Make sure you are here before me and wait sitting in that chair. Do not bring anything with you to read or write. Make sure you display proper posture. You are to focus on my arrival and politely arise when I enter. Then you can further stare at me at the beginning of each and every day. It will make your veiled adoration a little more obvious to the staff, but there are lessons to be learned. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I humbly acknowledged just wanting to end the embarrassment.

And that was my real introduction to Antoinette De La Corte... previous encounters being ineffectual in understanding her raison d'etre... not that such could ever be fully comprehended.

Yes, for the ensuing two weeks I waited each morning in her office like the puppy she had fixed. Not there to hump her leg but instead to offer coffee and morning sustenance as a playful canine would offer a stick to be thrown for retrieval.