By Judicial Decree 7: Consent Decree

  • Written by: Commander James Bondage


Format Available:


Add to Cart:

Inga had been given great gifts: a beautiful face and figure, a brilliant mind and an influential father  who could help her achieve her goal of becoming the first female lawyer in Vinland’s history. But all her gifts came to nothing after she lost control of her spending, was convicted of embezzling her clients’ funds  to support her lavish lifestyle and was sentenced to slavery as punishment  for  her crimes. But it was not until she found herself naked and bound in the basement of Rupert Caine’s mansion that she learned the true meaning of punishment. Set in a world where enslavement for crime or debt is an everyday fact, By Judicial Decree: Consent Decree may be the best novel yet in Commander James Bondage’s popular series.

WORD COUNT: 44,000


The servant girls rushed Inga away so quickly that her feet hardly touched the ground. They flew to one corner of the huge parlor, turned down a corridor like the one from the entrance, then through an arch which proved to be the entrance to a stairway.

The servants practically dragged Inga down these stairs to a basement hallway. This little resembled what Inga had seen of the luxurious main floor. The corridor was narrow, with a low ceiling and was illuminated from above by bare fluorescent tubes. Inga's escorts did not give her any time to inspect her surroundings, but hustled her along the hallway at the same frenetic pace. Neither servant girl said a word the entire time, and as Inga that decided that she would be damned before she would start the conversation, the journey was made in complete silence.

They stopped in front of a battered metal door with a black numeral "1" painted on it. Still holding Inga's arm in a death-grip (evidently they were taking no chances of her overpowering both of them and escaping, Inga thought), the Asian girl took down a key from a hook on the wall, and used it to unlock the door. They dragged their charge into the room, flicking on a wall switch to bring up the lights (more fluorescents like the ones in the hall).

Although she had never seen a room like it before, Inga was immediately able to identify its function. It was a dungeon. She saw racks, frameworks, trestles and tables of metal and wood, chains and ropes with cuffs on the ends hanging down from above. There were machines she did not recognize, but which she had no doubt were designed to inflict pain. There were racks holding a seemingly endless variety of canes, whips, crops and slender metal rods, and others bearing wooden paddles and thick leather straps. The room was too big and crowded with devices for her to see most of its contents, for which small favor she was grateful.

The reality of being the helpless slave of a cruel man had not really sunk in until this moment, and now Inga realized she was terrified. As usual, she reacted to fear by acting even more detached and uninterested.

She was able to master the trembling in her legs as the servants spread her feet wide apart, and fixed them there by locking soft, strong cuffs set in the concrete floor around her ankles. They removed the loop from her wrists, freeing her hands for the first time since she had left Vinland, but then immediately re-tied them overhead to a cord descending from a cylinder overhead. The Asian girl, Lee, tightened the cord by drawing the loose end through a series of pulleys, until Inga was suspended from the ceiling with only her toes touching the floor. Her entire body was under tension, every joint from ankle to wrist strained. The position was very uncomfortable from the first moment, but Inga had a strong feeling that it would become more painful over time. She tried to imagine what she would feel like after an hour stretched out like this, and shook her head. She debated with herself whether to risk asking for relief from the servants, then decided that, as she had nothing to lose, she would.

"Excuse me, Lee," Inga said in her Gracious Queen voice, which usually made its objects grateful for a chance to do her a favor, "would you be kind enough to loosen this…awk!"  She grunted involuntarily when Lee spun and drove her fist into Inga's midsection just below the ribcage. The blow drove most of the air from her body, and a fireball of pain in her middle seemed to paralyze her lungs and diaphragm.

"Ahcabree…, elp," she croaked desperately.

"You'll be fine in a minute," the second servant, a tall brunette, said callously. "Stop whining, you little pussy."

"Don't be a fool, girl," Lee added. "Mr. Caine  wants you set up like this, and I do exactly what he tells me, just like everybody else around here. If you haven't figured that out yet, you're even stupider than you look." She turned on her heel, and with her nameless partner, walked away without another word. They flicked off the lights before they left, slamming and locking the heavy door behind, and leaving Inga alone in total darkness, still trying to force some air into her lungs.

Eventually, the agonizing knot in her belly relaxed enough to permit her to resume respirations, but Inga noticed this only in passing. Nor did she pay any attention to the growing soreness in her joints and tendons caused by the harsh suspension. She was preoccupied by the Asian girl's scornful words. She had been called many things after her fall: heartless, evil, a criminal mastermind, anti-social and much more, but no one had ever before questioned her intelligence. So why had Lee called her “stupid”? She wondered. On what basis did she conclude that Inga was "a fool"? She passed the long wait in the dark room reviewing her actions since she had arrived at Briarcliff, trying to answer these questions.

An unknown time later, Inga heard a key turn in the lock, followed by the sound of the groaning  hinges as the door swung open. The lights flickered on, and Caine entered. He locked the door behind, then unhurriedly approached the suspended girl. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long, my dear," he said. "I know how impatient the young can be, and how slowly time seems to pass for them."

"I really didn't notice, Mr. Caine," Inga answered loftily. "Certainly, there was no reason for you to inconvenience yourself on my account."

Caine stroked Inga's lower leg, feeling the tension in the corded muscles, then ran his hands over her straining thighs, buttocks back and arms. "Your legs appear to be cramping up rather badly, Miss Bergqvist," he remarked. "Would you like to have some of the tension let out of the rope? If you ask me very sweetly and humbly, I would consider it."

Now that she thought about it, Inga realized her entire body was quivering in agony, her muscles screaming for relief. She needed a respite and she needed it immediately.

"Yes, I would very much appreciate it if you would  relax the  rope, Mr. Caine," she said. Although she had no conscious intention of doing so, she somehow made this request sound like a politely phrased order.

Caine shook his head in wonder. He snatched a bamboo rod from a convenient rack and said, "Well, that is certainly not going to get you what you want." He swung his arm, and  the cane whistled through the air to strike the thickest part of Inga's agonizingly cramped calf muscle.  The impact set off a blinding explosion of pain. Inga was aware of someone screaming nearby, someone in terrible distress, and was not at first aware that the animal sounds of pain were coming from her own throat.

When the veil of pain lifted far enough for Inga to be aware of anything else, she looked up at the patiently waiting Caine. "Now, Inga…I hope you won't think me forward if I use your first name, but I know we are going to become very intimate…" he paused, and she shook her head and gasped "No, that's fine".

Caine smiled, "Most kind of you. Now Inga, would you care to  try that request again? I would suggest  you make a more convincing display of humility. If it makes it easier, try to imagine that you are my slave, naked and unable to move an inch, and I am your master with both the legal right and physical ability to do anything I want to your charming body." He spoke as if he was addressing a child or a simpleton.

Inga cringed under the lash of his mockery. She knew what he wanted, and she desperately wanted him to release some of the tension that was threatening to pull her apart. But she was trapped, a victim of the persona she had built for herself over the years. Inga could not bring herself to acknowledge the superiority of anyone. If she humbled herself before Caine now, she was afraid it would be the beginning of the end. He was too smart and too strong, and she knew that she could not pretend to surrender to him for very long before that pretense became the reality.

Caine, weary of waiting for her to answer, slashed the knotted muscles on inside of her thigh with the cane. To Inga, the stroke of the bamboo rod felt like the blow of an iron bar. The pain was so great that she nearly fainted, but to her annoyance, she remained conscious, battered by waves of hellish agony. Stretched as tightly as she was, Inga could do no more than twist her torso and fling her head madly back and forth.

"Please…stop…no more," she whispered haltingly. Her huge gray eyes overflowed with unbearable suffering. "I beg…you."

Caine stroked her cheek in a parody of tenderness. "One more time Inga, do you have a request for me?" He asked.

A request? She echoed mentally. It was so hard to remember anything while the terrible pain throbbed in her leg. She forced herself to think, and finally remembered the earlier conversation.

"I humbly beg you…sir…to release the rope…" she croaked. "I..I would be …very grateful…if you would…loosen it just…a little

Caine nodded. "Better," he said, judiciously, "but next time, remember to address me as 'Master'." He let out the cord until  Inga was able to stand with both feet resting on the ground, and the terrible pressure was released. Her arms and legs briefly went into wild spasms, and she would have fallen if the rope around her wrists had not held her up.

"Thank you…Master," she said, a little hesitantly.

"You still don't really believe it though, do you?" Caine asked, stooping to study her face from a few inches away.

"What.. what do you mean…Master?" Inga responded nervously.

Caine shook his head. "I do not lie to my slaves, but in return I require complete honesty from them. You know exactly what I mean Inga, and if you continue to pretend otherwise, I will put you back up the way you were a minute ago,  and give you a real caning ."

 She instantly blurted "No!", then in a rush said, "Please don't do that, Master. I won't try to deceive you."

"That is wise," Caine said, nodding. "Now answer the question. You still don't accept me as your Master, do you?"

Inga carefully considered before answering. "I will obey you…" she began slowly. When she saw Caine begin to reach out towards the cord to tighten her bonds again, she quickly added, "No, it's true, I don't accept it, because I can't believe you are my superior."

"I suspected as much,' he said. "You realize that this is unacceptable, I suppose. My slaves must have no doubts about who the boss is. So, we must find a way to adjust your unrealistic attitude to one more appropriate to your condition."

"But Mr. Caine…Master…" she hurriedly corrected herself, "…I can't help feeling the way I do. You own me, and I am obligated to obey you, but I can't help believing that I am inferior to no-one, even if I am a slave at the moment. I can't change that."

"On the contrary," Caine replied, "with a little help, I know you can."  He untied her wrists, then  retied them to either side over her head, drawing her into an "x".  He went across the room to a small refrigerator and withdrew a little foil tube of ointment. She watched curiously as he unscrewed the cap, squeezed out a small dab of clear unguent, which he rubbed between his fingers.  

Then he moved close to her, and captured her nipples in his ointment-coated fingers, stroking and twirling the brown flesh. They stiffened to attention  almost as soon as he touched them, and almost instantly began radiating intense waves of sensation. Inga gasped at how sensitive they were; the pleasure was almost too much for her to bear.

"This stuff I rubbed into your tits triples the sensitivity of erectile tissue," Caine explained, as he alternately tugged and squeezed the swollen little heads. "Very expensive, but worth it, don't you think?" He asked.

Inga's eyes were closed as she concentrated on the incredible sensations flowing from her breasts. "Ah, yes…it's very nice… Master," she said, distractedly.  Then, when he began to roll her nubs more forcefully, she made a sinuous motion with her hips and moaned "Ooooh! It…it's very strong, Master."   

"To return to the subject at hand," Caine continued, "there are ways of changing even the most deeply held opinions and beliefs. For example, Quentin  bought a sweet, eighteen-year-old girl named Sister Kristjana for me last year. She had been a member of a religious order who had taken a vow of chastity, and believe me, she took her vows seriously. But within a  few days, I had her begging for my cock, and today, she's the hottest fuck-slave in the house."

Caine had not stopped his skillful manipulations of Inga's nipples while he related this story, so that by the end her chest, abdomen and hips were weaving in supple motions that would have done credit to a professional  belly dancer. She was now so aroused that the tale of Sister Kristjana made little impression on her, as she was no longer able to follow it.

Caine released her engorged knobs  long enough to extract another dab of the aphrodisiac cream from the tube, and work it into the fingers of his right hand.  He plunged this hand into Inga's box, which though untouched, was already overflowing with her juices. His fingers found her little sex knob poking up from the hood. It was slippery with lubrication, and as hard as a pebble.

"Oh, oh! Oh God!" Inga cried out when his fingertips flicked her wet stiffness casually back and forth. "Harder, harder, faster!" She demanded, now making urgent thrusts with her lower body.

"There are two well-established physical mechanisms for this kind of conditioning," Caine told the frenzied girl. "One is pleasure…," he hesitated, and paused  his manual stimulation, until she groaned, and opened her eyes, "…do I have your attention? Tell me when you are about to come, Inga, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes I understand, I will," she answered, her voice husky with her need, "but please don't stop touching me, Master." 

Caine now began to twirl her clit in his fingers, and she responded by following each movement of his fingers with her body.   "I…I'm going to…Master…" Inga moaned, almost incoherent as she approached an orgasm.

Caine suddenly withdrew his  fingers from her sex.

"Nooo! No, please, Master! Don't stop, please don't!" She  begged, futilely driving her thighs down where his hand had just been. Tears of frustration gleamed in her gray eyes.

"Would you now be prepared to yield to me, if I let you come?" Caine inquired.

"Yes, yes, I admit it, whatever you want, but just touch me!" She demanded, screaming the last words like a madwoman.       

    "Who is superior now Inga," he persisted, "and who is nothing more than a needy little slut?"

She ground her teeth together in an agony of thwarted desire. "You, you are my superior Master, I am a cheap slut. I am begging for your touch, Master."

Caine grabbed a nearby chair and positioned it between Inga's thighs. He then sat down in it facing her, and opened his fly to release his erection from its captivity. He touched his stiffness against her engorged lower lips and asked, "Would you like me to fuck you with this?"

Inga stared down at the cock with hungry eyes, and pressed her pelvis down, trying to impale herself on him, crying,  "Yes, please, yes fuck me!"

Caine  pulled the head back just far enough that she couldn't reach him, and she made an animal sound of frustration.

"I have what you want," Caine said. "I'll give it to you, if you persuade me that you believe I own you now, every atom of you." He casually fondled her clit, setting off another flurry of pelvic contortions.

"It's true, Master," Inga half-sobbed. "You can make me do whatever you want. You own me, I am yours to command. Now please, please, please, won't you fuck me!!" She screamed, her face twisted, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands.

"When you ask that way, I don't see how I can say 'no' ", Caine answered. He drew her forward with one hand on her bottom, and directed his rod into her slot  with the other. Inga instantly impaled herself on his cock, jamming herself down on his lap, then bouncing wildly up and down until she shrieked "Oh fuck!", and exploded like a volcano.  

Inga had never understood the attraction sexual intercourse had for other people. She was personally indifferent to it, and only engaged when it advanced her career. Much of her contempt for the male of the species was related to sex: she took great pleasure in twisting men around her finger by using their appetites against them, and considered them weak for allowing something so unimportant as sex to control them.

Now for the first time, as she rode Caine like a wild bronco, she began to understand why anyone would allow sex to influence their decisions on what she used to think of as really important things, like investments. She had never imagined any bodily sensation as intense or all-consuming as the orgasm Caine's cock now gave her. As massive as it was, one climax was not enough to satisfy her; it only made her want to have another. In the end, Inga came three times before Caine finished, holding her hips in a grip of iron, his cock throbbing deep inside her.   By the time he came, she was as sweaty and breathless as if she had just completed a mile run.

"Of course…," Caine puffed, pausing every few words to catch his breath "…I wouldn't…expect a permanent…attitude change from…just  one session…but you can see…it's possible…at least."

Inga mentally replayed her words and actions during the preceding  half hour, and was not happy with what she saw. Caine had manipulated her to do exactly what he wanted and had, at least for a short time, controlled her utterly, made her  say and even think what he wished. The battle was not over, but Inga had lost the first round.


This book was added to our catalog on Tuesday 13 March, 2018.

Have you seen ...

Banned On Amazon

Who's Online

There currently are 25 guests online.
Copyright © 2018 Excessica. Powered by Zen Cart