They do

"Fuck that was hot!" the prosecutor laughs, pulling out of your mouth and letting you drool a mix of semen and saliva onto the floor. "What a fine fucking slut!"

"I told you she'd be good," the Judge chuckles, pulling out of your cunt and giving you a slap on the ass. "These bitches will do anything to make a deal. If you're ever a judge, remember this lesson.
You better get yourself straightened up hon, we're due back in court soon," he adds for your benefit.

With a soft moan you push yourself up off the desk, picking up your panties and using them to mop your dripping pussy and wipe your face. You're panting gently, looking at the two men who just used you and are now chatting and ignoring you. With a sigh you fix your makeup and hair, straightening your clothes until you look presentable again.

"So we have a deal," you say, once you're ready. "Released on his own recognisance."

"We have a deal," the judge nods. "A few conditions, like a tracking bracelet and a curfew, but we have a deal." The prosecutor smiles and nods agreement, his eyes roaming over your body.

Ignoring his lustful stare, you walk out of the office, making sure to wriggle your ass at them. Your pussy feels warm and excited, and you know if they called you back for another round you'd be only too eager for another double helping of man meat.

You take a seat beside your client, who glares at you suspiciously.

"What's going on?" he whispers hoarsely. "You better have got me off you stupid bitch."

"We're not there yet," you tell him. "I got your bail reduced. That's a start."

"Fuckin' case should be thrown out," he sneers.

Any response you might have made is cut off by the bailiff announcing the judge is returning to court. When the terms of the bail agreement are disclosed your client grumbles angrily about a curfew and a bracelet, but he manages to keep himself under control until the judge adjourns the case.

"Is that the best you could do you fucking bimbo?" he snarls as the judge leaves. "A fucking curfew? That's bullshit!"

"Shut up!" his father snaps, stepping up beside you. "That's a very good deal, if you're too dumb to understand it yourself. Now go with the bailiff. I want to talk to your attorney."

Your client grumbles but turns away as the bailiff approaches to take him to be fitted for a monitoring bracelet. His father turns to look at you appraisingly with a sardonic smile on his handsome face.

"You must have done some fancy fucking to talk the Judge into that," he says. "We should talk."