They couldn’t see her face, but of course they knew it was poor Tami. What they did see was a brown-ringed anus practically leaping out at the camera -- between butt cheeks spread by the naked girl’s hands. She was standing on top of a gyno table, bent over, bare toes curled over each side. Below her and around her, students crowded around, watching intently. Next to her, a long-haired, brown-skinned woman, obviously an instructor of some type, was pointing and explaining something.
“Miss Percival ‘volunteered’ Miss Smithers to be a demonstration model for what she thought would be a short lecture on breast self examination by this well-intentioned but clueless professor, Dr. Vanessa Congi. Henry got the Dean to tell Miss Smithers that she could prove her genuineness, and therefore put the whole nudity thing in the past, if she went through it without flinching. In other words, she would have the right to wear clothes again. She accepted eagerly, or maybe I should say desperately. Of course, Henry graciously offered to do the monitoring,” Sarah added mordantly. “When the breast part was done Dr. Congi went on with her planned segments on sexual health which she had been told Miss Smithers had agreed to. Miss Smithers had no choice but to do as she was told and expose herself in the most intimate ways. Such as this.”
In this picture the naked girl lay on her back, her legs spread almost impossibly wide, her bare feet in the stirrups. Under the professor’s supervision a young man was using his hands to insert something into her widely spread pussy. A line of students, male and female, waited behind him. “Here the students are getting a hands-on demonstration on how to insert a diaphragm.” The naked girl’s eyes are looking up at the ceiling in what could have been a look of slight pain or mild sexual arousal, but which everyone sitting at the table recognized as an agony of shame.
“Jesus,” Brain shook his head. “Where does this end?”
Donald said, “Who took these pictures? Did Henry have a hidden camera?”
“Could have been,” Sarah said cryptically.
Nina, being just a new paralegal, felt like she shouldn’t be doing too much talking, but she couldn’t stand the suspense. “So, did she ‘flinch’?”
Sarah sighed. “Apparently she did. When the Dean next met with her he told her Henry’s findings. She denied it, which I suppose was a strategic mistake, because it made her look like she wanted to wear clothes again. You must remember, this is an 18-year-old girl with no access to legal advice. The Dean increased the monitoring, and afterwards assigned Henry ways of humiliating her further to break her will. Which was really throwing red meat at Henry.”
“You make it sound like she’s a prisoner being interrogated,” Brian said.
“That’s exactly what it is,” Sarah said. “Henry has a morbid fascination with psychological torture. He used to be a prosecutor for a particularly vicious district attorney. So using the threat of expulsion, he got Miss Smithers to agree to things like -- ”
A picture of the naked girl standing on a platform, legs and arms stretched out into an ‘X’, in the middle of an art class. “Five mornings a week posing for art classes. The art professor is as bad a sadist as Henry is. She does not like demure poses.” The naked girl’s upward gaze is of hopelessness. Her nipples are erect, and everyone else is heavily clothed in sweaters and coats; it is obvious that the air in the room is freezing.
“Or this.” The sweaty girl, legs spread, working a double treadmill with each bare foot in front of a wooden wall. The sweat has plastered her hair to her head. More sweat trickles down between her breasts, into her pubic bush, down her thighs. A couple of men in dirty grounds crew uniforms are standing around watching intently as they sip their coffee.
“And now this.” A platform in a little lab with huge dildos sticking out of the base. Everyone suddenly shifted in their chairs. “And this.” The naked girl, sitting over the dildos planted deep within her, surrounded by three men in lab coats. Her wide eyes are screaming right into the camera. “Orgasm research at the Chalfont Institute.”
This horrible picture caused a muttered chorus of “God!” and “Good Lord!” Most shielded their eyes. Sarah watched their reactions, then changed to an equally horrible picture of a man being zapped in the electric chair. His eyes are bugged out at the camera in the exact same expression.
Donald, who was not being affected by this presentation as much as the others, said, “What the hell is this?”
“This is a picture of a political prisoner being executed in an African country. Who it is is not important. Note the similarity in facial expressions.” She shifted back to the girl in orgasm and then to the prisoner again.
“Oh come on Sarah, you can’t compare this to getting executed.”
“My point is, this is clearly ‘cruel and unusual punishment’. Without due process. It hardly needs saying that it is also actionable harassment. Which she agreed to, but only under duress.”
Sarah hit a key on her laptop and the screen went blank. She turned the lights up. The sense of shock was pervasive and palpable. Nina and Helen were actually in tears; Nina let out a sniffle and then tried to suppress it. Everyone pretended not to notice. But then she said in a broken voice, “We’ve got to do something . . . get that girl some clothes . . . that poor girl . . .”
Sarah continued, “This summer Miss Smithers was intimidated into serving as a demonstration model for this, um, orgasm machine on a cross-country itinerary. She got homesick and now she’s staying at Brian’s for a few days before going back home to Rhode Island. What awaits her next semester, what she’s agreed to, is even more shaming than what I’ve shown you.
“This girl has obvious legal arguments to get her back into clothes. She’s under duress, she didn’t know what she was agreeing to, the college has grossly violated its duty of parens patriae, and most importantly for the potential publicity for this firm, she can get the local court to declare that nudity is NOT a religion with Constitutional protection. In short, she can wear clothes again. But we must have her consent to proceed, to get a statement from her to begin with. I’ve tried on two occasions to get her trust, but she thinks I’m just an agent of Henry’s and trying to trap her. We need another approach. Now is our chance.”
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