Hi, everyone! I ran across an old story that I am not sure I ever posted. Either way...Enjoy!
“Rita Meets Old McDonald”
By Tina
Rita stood before the judge with a smirk on her face. She knew she would get the usual slap on the wrist and be back out on the street in time to turn a couple of tricks. The young prostitute, like many of her colleagues was a familiar face at the Hennypenny County Court House. Rita had even gotten a suspended sentence from one judge after a special consultation in his chambers. The whore had consulted with the judges dick for several minutes and was later set free as a bird.
Unfortunately this time she had drawn a woman judge. Rita did not recognize the woman but a judge was a judge and the law was the law. She had been turning tricks since middle school and knew that the system had enough problems with real criminals. Streetwalkers such as Rita were the least of the judicial systems worries.
‘The judge finally closed the manila folder and set it carefully on the mahogany desk top in front of where she sat.
“Miss Hayworth, you have a long history of prostitution related arrests,” the judge droned as she gazed without emotion at Rita, “I hereby sentence you to six months in the county jail. You are to be remanded into the custody of the sheriff’s department immediately to start serving the required time.”
The gavel banged loudly and even Rita flinched.
“Next case, bailiff”
Before she could do much more than sputter Rita was led from the court room. A female deputy sheriff was waiting in the anteroom when the jailer brought Rita from the courtroom. The lady police officer put a heavy belt around Rita’s waist that she padlocked closed. She then locked each of Rita’s wrists into manacles that were on either side of the belt. A heavy chain ran through the belt with the manacles securely welded at each end. The deputy had given the manacles, the chain and the belt a good shaking.
“You wont be going anywhere, sweetie,” she said sarcastically to her new prisoner.
“Please sign here and you can be on your way,” the jailer said as she handed the deputy a clipboard.
The woman scribbled her signature and then led Rita into the underground garage area. An unmarked police car sat near the door near where they emerged.
“Watch your head,” the sheriff’s deputy intoned as she helped guide Rita into the back of the car.
The deputy got into the other side next to Rita.
“Okay, Charlie, all set, let’s go.”
Her partner started the car and they pulled quickly away from the courthouse. In the light of day Rita suddenly realized she was going to be behind bars for the next half year.
“Fuck,” Rita said, “This is bullshit, man.”
“Watch your mouth, missy,” Charlie the driver said, “we don't cotton to that cursing crap.”
The heavy set man had laughed heartily at his joke. Rita looked at the woman deputy for some sort of sister sympathy but the woman’s face was turned away as she looked out the window.
“That’s odd,” Rita thought as she followed the deputy’s gaze to the outside.
There was tall corn as far as the eye could see. They had left town for some reason. Rita had never been to the county jail but she knew it was on the other side of town from the court house. The suddenly concerned woman was not at all sure where they were or where the driver was taking them.
Before she could say anything the car turned into a field road. Soy bean plants, the leaves just starting to turn, grew in a field on the right. Tall corn again obscured Rita’s view to the left. The road was bumpy and the seat hard. Rita bounced uncomfortably as the dust welded up around the police cruiser.
Rita wanted to ask what was going on but her fear kept her quiet. She did not want to piss the two deputies off by asking a lot of questions.
The field road went into a stand of tall trees and then emerged into a small clearing. There was a man wearing faded overalls standing under the shade of a tall locust tree. Charlie stopped the car near where the man stood.
“ ‘bout time,” the man said as he sidled up to the driver side of the police cruiser, “thought ma’be the judge’d changed her mind.”
“Not this time, Mort,” Charlie said as he handed a fat envelope over to the man.
“E’r’thin’s ready for y’all,” the farmer said and then he tipped his straw hat to the ladies.
Rita turned and looked at the man watching them as they drove down the dirt road that wound through the heavy stand of trees. The man disappeared into the woods before the car was completely out of site.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Rita finally asked.
The female deputy slapped Rita hard in the face. The blow was so hard and so unexpected it knocked Rita back against the car door. She struggled to regain her sitting position when the other woman grabbed a handful of Rita’s hair.
“We know how to take care of garbage like you, slut,” the woman hissed, her face inches from Rita’s.
Then to Rita’s dismay the lady had produced a black bag that she had slid over Rita’s head.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Rita questioned loudly as she felt the bag being cinched closed around her neck, “Hey I can hardly breathe in this thing.”
The bag was puffing up and then collapsing in time with Rita’s heaving chest. The bag was not airtight but it was a warm day and Rita was not lying when she indicated she was having trouble catching her breath.
After a short time the car slowed to a stop. Rita heard the driver side door open and felt the car rock as Charlie exited the vehicle. Then the lady deputy had pulled Rita’s legs up and removed her shoes and white socks.
Before she could ask about the foot wear the door next to her opened. Rita almost fell out of the car but Charlie’s strong arms caught her and pulled her into a standing position outside the car. Rita heard the door slam shut.
“Okay, Charlie, I got her,” the woman cop said as she took a firm hold of Rita’s arm.
Rita could feel dirt under her feet as they walked along. The trio had gone perhaps a hundred yards when the footing changed. Rita could feel wooden planks under her bare feet. Shortly after that they stopped walking.
“Please, please, tell me what’s happening,’ Rita pleaded as she felt tears roll down her cheeks.
“Give me a fucking break here,” the terrified woman begged, “I’m just a whore....small potatoes.”
To add to her terror neither deputy said a word. Her pleas were answered with stony silence. Then Rita had felt Charlie loop a heavy chain around her ankles. He wrapped the chain so that Rita’s ankles were lashed tightly together. Rita heard the distinctive click of a pad lock and then Charlie had briefly wiggled the loops of chain to make sure they were securely in place.
“Wump”
The noise at Rita’s feet startled the woman in her dark world. Again she jumped just as she had at the sound of the judge’s gavel slamming down. She probably would have lost her balance and fallen except the female cop was still holding her firmly.
Then Rita heard a kind of scraping sound followed by another loud “Wump”.
Rita was trying to figure out what was happening when her feet were suddenly pulled out from under her. The deputy sheriff released Rita’s arm. Rita landed on her butt and pain shot up her body like a fourth of July rocket going heavenward.
Then she was falling. The poor whore’s brain suddenly processed all the information. Her ankles were shackled with chain that was lashed to a concrete block. Charlie had rolled the concrete block off the end of a boat dock.
Rita’s scream pierced the quiet of the pond just as her feet touched the chilly water. For an instant the woman’s upper body floated above the surface of the water. Then the insistent tug of the slowly falling block began to drag her down. The bag was puffing and collapsing very rapidly as Rita’s head gradually sunk into the water.
The pond was fairly clear and the two deputies could see Rita tugging furiously at the shackles that locked her hands to her waist. The bag seemed to be looking around for some sort of rescue. Rita had managed a second small scream just before her head went completely under. There was a little burst of bubbles as the water closed over the black bag.
The block was now completely obscured by the green water. The chain would catch the odd ray of light as the doomed woman squirmed at the end of it. Rita’s khaki prison dress was billowing up around her sinking body and Charlie thought her could see her white panties. Her legs seemed to be working to try to kick free of the terrible chain. As the prisoner sank further down the hem of her dress inverted like the petals of a flower.
Then the block had reached the bottom. Rita’s head encased in the dark sack was just barely visible about four feet under the surface of the farm pond.
Her upper body was fighting furiously to break free and return to the surface. A few bubbles would occasionally leak out of the bag. The bag itself was water resistant and was only slowly letting water in around Rita’s head.
Inside the bag Rita could smell the foul odor of the pond. She hated everything about fish. Ironically the young whore could not even swim. As her fear grew she could feel the water seep slowly into the bag. Rita was not sure whether she would suffocate or drown but she did know her lungs were crying out for air. She tugged with all her might with her legs but the block and chain were too much for her fragile body.
The water had finally soaked the sack and enclosed around Rita’s face. Rita held her last breath of stale air as long as she could. During those final tortured seconds her hands and feet tugged even more furiously as she spent the last of her energy in a final bid for freedom. Then she had been forced to breath. Her lungs sucked in the green water of the pond.
The worst pain she had ever felt ripped through her chest as her heart ceased to pump. A final explosion of bubbles briefly obscured the sunken prisoner as they floated to the surface.
The two deputies gazed down at the now barely visible body. It still moved lazily under the water but not from any human generated action. Rita’s dress was gradually sinking back down around her shapely corpse.
“I think she’s finished,” Charlie said.
The two deputies walked back to the squad car and returned to the county jail.
Old McDonald had a farm. He also had a nice deep farm pond. He made a tidy income by letting the county use his pond on special occasions. Old McDonald had some pigs and was not squeamish about harvesting the corpses to use for pig slop. EEE EYE EEE EYE OOOOOH!