‘PAYBACK TIME’
© Mesmerr
2
Judge Judy Capperstein unlocked the door to her sleek Jaguar then slid her butt down into the deep, comfortable leather seats, feeling good, from the moment her eyes had seen her car waiting for her. It sat like a big black cat on the concrete, seeming to her, like a large animal, just waiting to burst into life and spring forward.
As she belted up and fired the big purring engine into life, she began to slide her hands from left to right, across the top and bottom of the steering wheel, as if she were caressing it, stroking it and arousing it. And with that action, which she did for a few minutes, before leaving the car park, each day, she would forget all the human garbage and trash she had to deal with, for five days of her week.
She thought of her job, as getting her hands dirty each time she came to work, but was cleaning them more and more, with each heavy sentence she passed down on the guilty. Judy Capperstein liked to think of herself as tough, likening the image she worked hard at promoting in the media and wherever she could to ‘Judge Judy’, the tough-as-nails television judge, she watched on TV, without fail, every night when she arrived home.
And now that she’d finally gotten rid of her loser of a weak husband, some two years earlier, she could and had been devoting herself, completely the building her reputation, as being someone who was to be feared whenever her gavel fell hard upon the knock-wood on her judge’s bench.
Yes, Judy Capperstein reaffirmed to herself, as she slid the purring black Jag into gear and moved slowly forward and out of the car park, she knew who was guilty and who was not, the instant they set foot inside her cave, as she liked to call her courtroom.
She had taken it upon herself, as a vow, similar to a personal vendetta, to sway the juries and threaten the defence lawyers with intimidating looks or innuendo, and generally bend the law, wherever, whenever, and however she could, to give them all the maximum prison sentence she could hand down, especially the molesters of women; those she would be hardest on, most of all.
She hated them with a passion that bordered upon obsession.
The big Jag cruised effortlessly in and out of the light traffic. Judge Judy Capperstein pressured the wheel softly and intimately, as she wove from lane to lane, seeing her hand ministrations of the wheel in her minds eye and imagination, as if she were coaxing her imaginary lover back to life.
Judy Capperstein soon arrived home and drove inside her security garage and then gently reduced the deep throaty idle of the Jag’s powerful V8 engine to quiet, silent passivity.
For a few moments, she just sat there, smiling. As always, she was smiling for the same reason; she had been juicing from the moment her eyes had first fell upon the raw and sensual, animalistic beauty of her beautiful car, as it had lain in wait faithfully for her, like a lover in a lair.
She had been waiting too; waiting to take it in hand between her strong manipulative hands and fingers. The junction of her solid muscular thighs was tingling.
Then she grinned, as she unfastened her seat belt. Yes, she thought to herself—Judge Judy’s judiciary woman’s apex was exceedingly warm and damp; very, very damp.
She then exited her black cat’s comfortable vehicular grasp on her warm, solid ass and closed the door lovingly, as if saying goodbye to her lover, until another time, soon. She was still smiling as she walked through the door of her luxurious apartment, focused fully on her daily mission.
She dropped her case on the floor without stopping then walked through to the large, comfortable black, velvet lounge. Her black tweed skirt made no protest, as she grasped the hem in both hands then hitched it high on her waist.
Then she sat deeply down into the soft velvet cushions, spreading her legs wide and smiling even more, as her gaze fell upon the black forested jungle between her wide open solid legs. Her head lay back against the soft headrest and her thighs relaxed even more so, as she did it.
Her loud sexual and guttural groan then announced once more to the silent and lonely walls of her apartment, that the daily ritual arrival of her strong hands and fingertips, diving frantically and deeply in amongst that black musky jungle and deep liquid ravine of her already swollen judiciary female crease, had again begun, in earnest.
“Oh, my god!” Judge Judy groaned aloud in panting, breathless self-pleasuring anguish. “Oh my god! Yes! Oh, yes! Nnnnngggg!”