Statue of Debasement

The judge had definitely seen defendants that had many times over committed much harsher offenses or had personally slighted him more by extending their cases while gritting down on him with their garbage personalities; but to him Becca felt like a rare pain, someone with a set message and ideal that they gave their all towards just to tick guys like him off.

He had a few ideas of how to roughly use her or have her be used to account for his rage, but he was fair; so he had to save the worst punishments for the worst criminals, and this brat was above all nonviolent and honest in her easily cleaned off crimes.

Disregarding the idea of spending a few days personally breaking her holes himself, or setting her to be a police precinct's baton holster, he found an appropriate designation for her service.

First, if she was going after statues, she was going to be one, with her being listed as a moderate-level flight risk; yet given her physical cooperation and slutty personal history, additional mechanisms were expensed to grant her some movement.

secondly, she had no problem with looking like a slut and marking her body; so her outfit was deemed permissible to wear and for users to destroy at their leisure, and she was given twice as large and twice as many community slut markings to prevent blurring with her tattoos (he personally had ↓ 'd by' to the middle added to her 'fuck the state' tattoo).

Lastly the raised chair she'd be confined close to, while along the route to an unfortunately busy parole office; with overworked office-workers, officers, and 'former' thugs routinely going by. an interesting detail included in the chair to be installed was the cuffs attached to Ms.Poli's arms, legs, and neck that would actually permit her a great range of movement to walk around; yet would retract in measure to sound.

Given the shamelessness of her crimes and after-hours re-negotiations held by her lawyer; her service was to be carried out over three days, held in shifts.

"Want the first go, poser?" She taunted the officer binding her cuffs, as she took her seat and spread her legs; admiring the seedy urban surroundings and feeling a slight mechanical yank at her taunt's utterance.

The old officer merely huffed and left, not wanting to deal with a crazy chick; disappointing her more than she expected to have with her hot bod turned down.

Soon after he left, she spotted a gruff looking guy on route to the parole office; that turned her on a bit to see a fellow rebel given the irritation on his face and the potential to bring out a lawless animal to fuck her.

She shot him a look, and he kept going; preoccupied with his own case.

"Hey dumbass, the cuck-government is pimping out their women for free, come have a piece!" she added, flaunting her chest even as she was pulled deeper into her seat.

He stopped, thinking about the deadline's to his paperwork and finally getting out of his bullshit manual labor job they had him running for his service, debating if using a quick slut was worth the risk.

"What are you a cuck too?, then standby and watch ya limp-dick!" she continued to taunt till she was fixed in place.

Yet, this worked; sure he plead towards his service of his own will, however he still felt powerless under the consequences of his crimes; which was a soft spot for him at the moment. The Parolee walked up to her, with her head fixed, craning upward, and began smacking her tits around to feel even; given her comments. . . this did not work.

"Ha-ha yeah smack that state property around! yes! you should try breaking some windows next!" she joked loudly over the hits to her chest; seeing her body as property of the state at the moment and him as a possible kindred soul she could puppet around for more havoc.

Masochists disgusted him, or at least what seemed like one, so he spat on her face and moved her panties aside for a quick fuck. With the angle her head was at, she couldn't see his dick but could definitely identify a guy about to dive in.

"Do it! cuck those state-pricks!, show em' that they just want anyone else getting any puss-"

He put his hand against her face and pushed her hard against her headrest, to silence her, as he slid in to her wet pussy; forcing a deep groan from the both of them, yet slightly muffled on her end.

Becca was roughly fucked into her seat like the flesh-light she was, with her strange anarchistic dirty talk failing to escape as much as her moans; mostly blocked off by a firm grip closing her mouth and marking his palm in her lipstick. If she could speak, she'd thank his roughness and be begging for more active defilement of government property; such as by pumping 'it' with his semen, or better yet, coating 'it's' outside for all to see. Her slutty hole at least tried to communicate her ideas by slicking him in her own fluid and tight jerking and flexing around him to show what a disgrace of a government installation this was.

The parolee didn't care about any of that and was just stressed, and accepting the chance to pound it all away into a slut he figured was horny enough to get this wet for anyone and pretty crazy given the look in her eyes and her body rumbling to dedicate whatever it could to work her pussy so manically.

He used her and spattered all his discontent inside of her, sending her over the edge and showing just how shockingly tight a slut's pussy can be; her mind felt the nut dripping around her tightness and remembered the droplets of paint from her crimes, making her orgasm greater with the understanding of being able to continue her work through herself.

Given his tight schedule, she was left alone with her dripping snatch waiting for someone to add to this 'public art piece' to continue her 'profound-message' against the state.