JUDGE JETT'S LEG JAIL
By Kandor



The incomparable Jett sentences a man to a long sentence in her long legs for
the crime of not keeping the house clean! He'll not make THAT mistake
again...or will he??

Jett came home from her daily workout, sweaty and pumped up, her long, sinewy
legs flowing with muscle from her sinfully short blue workout shorts down to
her droopy sweat socks from which her calves erupted in long, steely tubes of
flesh. Kan sat on the couch, the lazy slug, reading the paper and watching TV,
strewn about him a variety of empty food containers and beer cans. He'd
promised Jett hours earlier he'd spruce the place up while she was at her
workout and as usual, failed to live up to the bargain. Jett was not pleased
when she walked into the place, eyeballing the debris around the room and
Kan's lazy form on the couch.

"Hey, I thought you were going to clean up this mess," she said, sitting down
on the couch next to him, crossing her insanely long, sexy legs. "Uh, yeah,
I'm going to, hon, really, I was just, uh, caught up in this show here," Kan
said lamely, pointing to the television.

"Jackass!" Jett said. "You're caught up in watching Jackass? That's pathetic.
Oh, well, you know what this means ..." Kan's face went white. "Uh, honey, no,
please, I'll get right on it, right now, I promise," he said, trying to get
off the couch. Jett shot her long legs out and pinned him to the couch by
draping then across his midsection, smiling evilly at him.

"Sorry, the crime's been committed, there's no turning back," she growled.
"Now you sit your fat ass right there and wait."

He gulped, knowing there was no escape as Jett got up and danced off to the
bedroom, only to return seconds later wearing a long, black judge's robe,
pulling up a chair before the couch and sitting down, draping the material
around herself, a hint of creamy, hard leg showing in the split of the robe.

"Judge Jett's Scissor Court is now in session," she announced playfully. "All
rise..."

Kan gamely stood, head hanging down meekly. She continued.

"The charge is not cleaning up this place despite your promise to do so, how
does the defendant plead?" she said forcefully, tying back her auburn hair
into a ponytail as she spoke, the sleeves of her gown sliding back to expose
her powerful, lean arms.

"Uh, well, your honor, there were extenuating circumstances," Kan attempted.

"Guilty or not guilty, those are your choices," she growled.

"Um...well, guilty, I guess, but..."

"The court finds you guilty of the charge!" Jett said, slipping aside her
robes to slam a fist down into the plank of her right quad. "Now to the
sentence."

"But your honor," Kan groaned.

"There will be quiet in my courtroom!" Jett bellowed.

Kan shut up, his head hanging to his chest, hands crossed before him in
subservience.

"For the crime as read, you are hereby sentenced to eight hours of hard
laboring in the Jett Leg Jail!" she announced sternly. "Two hours each in a
straight headscissors, a figure-four headscissors, a bodyscissors and a
reverse face scissors! Does the defendant have anything to say, like the court
would listen to him anyway?"

"Uh, your honor...Judge Jett...please, show some mercy, my neck and ribs are
still store from the last stint in the leg jail," he groaned plaintively. "I
suggest the defendant should have taken that into account before committing
the most recent crime," Jett hissed, leaning forward, elbows on her knees and
glaring up at him. "Be seated on the floor, the leg jail term commences
immediately!"

Kan sighed and sat on the floor before the couch as Jett stood, peeling off
her robe and folding it neatly, placing it on the chair behind her. She stood
before him, flexing her long legs, pointing her toe on one leg to bunch up her
calf, then turning and curling the leg up to pump up the thick pad of her
hamstring. She sauntered to the couch and sat down behind him, loosely fitting
her long legs around his neck, her silky thighs at his cheeks. He moaned in
anticipatory pain, the institutional memory of her lingering scissor locks
causing him to flinch.

"Let the sentence in Jett's Leg Jail begin!" she gleefully announced.

Kan's world went cloud white as Jett locked her socked calves before him and
tensed her rocky adductors  into his skull, her thighs tensing in fleshy steel
as they crushed into his ears. The pain was enormous as the thick tubes of her
inner thighs clamped deadly tight onto his head, her shins wrapped 'round one
another as her ankles locked to power the hold. This was her style; a lot of
pain at first followed by impossibly long quasi-scissor squeezes as she held
him helplessly in the bars of her leg jail, punctuated by unannounced bursts
of pure squeezing energy.

Kan's hands pawed the creamy white limbs that engulfed his head, feeling pure
steel in his failing grip. Jett's quads bubbled up in sinewy pads of sexy
flesh around his eyes, which watered in the painful grip of his jailer.

"Do ya GIVE UP?" Jett growled from behind him.

"Yes....pl...please...stop....it HURTS!" Kan screamed, eyes shut against the
pain, hands falling to the sides as he felt the dangerous cords of her
adductors slice into the sides of his neck as well as his head, crimping the
flow of blood to his brain, stars swimming invisibly before him.

"Good," she giggled, lessening the pressure and leaving her long legs draped
in a semi-squeeze around his panting head.

For the next two hours, she held him firmly in the impossible grip of her leg
jail, occasionally putting on a full-bore squeeze when he seemed in danger of
falling asleep, his screams of abject terror and agony driving her on. She'd
power the headscissors for a minute or so then relax, her thighs merely hard
and gripping in repose, resting for the next unannounced burst of pure scissor
power. She read the paper as she sat with the groaning man between her
dominating legs, watching television and relaxing, her legs never leaving the
head squeezed between them.

She eyed the clock; it was 10 a.m., two hours into the sentence. She smiled
and released his head from her grip, standing to shake the cramps from her
legs, her sexy thighs quivering. He moaned, head flopping back to the couch
and then jolting straight upright as he felt the familiar pangs of scissored
pain shoot through his neck and head.

No matter where he turned his skull, it hurt, it always hurt.

"Next part of the sentence, the figure-four scissors," she said, waltzing off
to the bathroom and then the kitchen for a tall glass of juice before
returning to sit behind him on the couch again, encircling his head with all
that leg.

She laced her thighs around his ears, and he moaned in pain. Folding up her
right leg, she tucked that fierce calf into his throat and hooked it behind
her opposite knee, the jagged edge of her lower leg cutting into his windpipe
and eliciting an involuntary gagging sound. She pulled back on that foot with
one hand, sipping her juice with the other, smiling down at the man in her
legs making the gurgling sounds.

"OK, this portion of the sentence runs til noon," she sighed. "Enjoy your
stay!"

He gagged again as he felt Jett's steely calf reef back into his throat, her
hauling back on her foot and cutting off his air supply. His body bucked and
bridged off the floor to alleviate the pressure, but she clung to him like
leggy glue until he quieted and slumped to the floor in pain and exhaustion.
She let up and just held him tightly in the firm grip of her figure four,
pumping and pulsating her agonizing calf into his throat on occasion.

Halfway through the torment, she fitted his windpipe into the crook of her
knee, capturing one side of neck in her punishing calf, the other pinched in
the thick hardness of her hamstring.

"A little variety for the defendant," Jett laughed. "A triangle choke for the
next hour. Enjoy."

Kan panicked and thrashed in her legs, angering Judge Jett who immediately
clamped down, his windpipe crackling under the pressure of her knee, his blood
flow to the brain impinged by the sudden, savage squeeze of her meaty calf on
one side and rocky hamstring on the other. He slumped to the floor, wheezing.

"Calm down, and take it like a man," Jett growled, snapping her hips to tear
the triangle choke with a warning jolt into his neck.

Kan sat glumly between her legs, his hands loosely gripping her thigh and
calf, occasionally pulling to relieve the relentless pressure, to which Jett
would respond by tightening the triangle choke scissors. Through blurry eyes
he looked at the clock and realized he had another hour to go in this scissors
alone, not to mention the last two-hour sessions to come.

Noon came, and Jett suddenly exploded with scissors, pulling back on her leg
and crushing Kan's throat in her grip, the thigh and calf tensing with sudden
fury into his trapped throat. He screamed horribly and then could scream no
more as her scissors took his voice and breath away. She laughed maniacally as
she reeled back on the couch, pulling him up off the floor.

Then she let go and stood, looking down at him panting and gasping for air,
hands clutching his wounded neck. She walked around him, playfully kicking him
with her sneakered feet.

"I'll be back, I need a break, and I guess so do you," she laughed. "For the
next two minutes, you're on parole from Leg Jail."

He groveled on the floor, two minutes not being enough to recover from Jett's
leggy imprisonment, it never was. He flopped to his back, moaning in pain, and
not noticing her return to the room, another glass of juice in hand. She sat
beside him on the floor, smiling, one leg extended flat, the other bent up.
Two huge red marks on the insides of her legs marked the spot of his torment
for the last four hours.

"OK, next portion of the sentence is the bodyscissors," she announced. "Lift."

Kan grunted and bridged up off the floor. Jett slipped her long right leg
under him, slapping down the left, her thighs imprisoning his midsection,
ribbons of steel around his guts. Locking her socked ankles, she thundered the
hold down into his belly, his back feeling as if a thick knife were cutting
into it as the adductor of that leg sliced into his spine. He moaned in agony,
his hands meekly pushing at the top bar of her leg jail, which only caused
Jett to squeeze harder. The pain was enormous and intense as she put a
100-percent squeeze on for a full minute, her gorgeous face sweaty and hot.
She smiled and bit her lower lip in concentration as she ground away at his
guts with her long, iron-bound legs.

"Please...can't breathe..." Kan wheezed, causing Jett to squeeze harder still.

A minute or so later, she let up and just held him in a half-power squeeze,
still stronger than most women can manage, and laid back on her side, arms
behind her head.

She now just pulsated the scissors into his collapsing middle, tensing the
adductors and roping up those muscles into muscle-braided cords of steel.
She'd intermittently squeeze full out and then relax, her legs laced
impossibly tight about him. Halfway through, she changed to a more dangerous
bodyscissors, sitting behind him to clamp her lethal limbs around his lower
ribs, squeezing them to the breaking point until sharp sheets of pain washed
over his entire being. He screamed in agony, his hands pulling at her socked
calves for release, only serving to make her squeeze that much harder.

"Don't fight it, prisoner," she growled, sitting up behind him and biting his
ear, wrapping her muscular arms around his neck in a sleeper hold. "Just take
it, serve your time in my leg jail!!"

She pressed herself up against him, thrusting out with her locked legs,
bending his ribs with agonizing pressure. Laying back now, she let her thighs
chew at his guts, snapping them out straight and massaging his midsection with
them, quivering, pulsating, pounding them into his sides. He tried to fall
over but her legs tightly held him up. For the last 20 minutes of this portion
of the sentence, Jett sat back and held him in her scissors and did ab
crunches, snapping her upper body up halfway, her thighs gripping him for
balance and threatening to cut him in half with savage jolts of constant
pressure.

It was 2 p.m. now, the sentence two hours from completion. Again she stood to
shake the cramps from her well-used scissors, taking a bathroom break and
grabbing a quick bite from the kitchen, returning as she munched a sandwich.

"Whew, it's tough work being a leg jailer, I tell ya," she laughed, sitting on
the couch and crossing her long, steely legs, bouncing the top shin off the
lower one, the meat of her muscular calf creased along the side. "Gotta keep
my strength up."

"Jett...please...no more, I can't take this anymore...I'll clean up, I swear,
just stop," Kan wheezed, trying not to breathe too deeply, the pain in his
sides telling him she'd popped if not broken at least two ribs.

"Sorry, the sentence is not rescinded, it's too late," she sighed, gulping the
last of her sandwich and taking a drink of juice, wiping her hands on her
muscular thighs before standing up. "To the bedroom for the last portion of
your term in today's leg jail."

He struggled to stand up, every part of him in agony, stumbling to the bedroom
where she bid him to lie down on his back. She straddled his face and sat down
with a savage thump, her muscular ass bouncing off his face. She leaned
forward over his lower body, extending her legs back around his head.

"Lift it up, lift your head so I can grab it in my thighs," she said over her
muscular shoulder as she looked back at him. "Put your face in my butt, go on,
just do it. Two hours from now, it's all over."

Kan sighed and lifted his head, the jolts of pain in his scissor-punished neck
nearly blinding him. He looked at Jett's twin orbs of sculpted steel flex in
short-shorts so sinfully tight they looked painted on. She instantly
snap-locked her thighs tightly around his neck, pinning his face to her ass,
whipping her ankles together and squeezing with sudden, savage fury, the
baseball-bat adductors of her inner thighs crushing into his neck and ears
with brutal suddenness.

"Two hours in the reverse facescissors and the sentence is complete," Jett
grunted, leaning up on her arms and jolting him with a renewed burst of
snapping, scissoring energy, thighs thundering into his ravaged skull.

She squeezed him blue in her brutal reverse facescissors, the thighs tensing
into corded steel, crushing his neck and head. His hands trembled as they
gripped the legs threatening to separate his head from his shoulders, his eyes
gazing into the football-hard sculpted meat of her dangerous ass as she flexed
down with the scissors, her glutes the source of her power in this hold. The
thighs grew in his hands, pulsating and pounding, as she put on the full
squeeze for a good five minutes, carefully letting up only enough so he didn't
pass out. The pain mounted exponentially, minute by minute, second by second.

He ran his hands behind his head, felt explosive muscle in the thick clamp of
her socked calves as he tried meekly to pull them apart, succeeding only in
trapping his hands in the rocky V of her clenched ankles. She held him like
this, stretched out and helpless, for a full hour, her thighs chewing at his
trapped head and neck, 60 minutes of untold agony.

When she finally let up at the one-hour mark, he was nearly out, his arms numb
from behind held in so awkward a position, his face a mask of tears, sweat and
incredible pain. She just held him now, roping up her adductors with a sudden
burst of savage scissor power every so often, the thigh cords ripping into his
neck and ears. For a long 10-minute stretch, she rolled her thighs up and down
on his trapped head, eliciting one long, continual moan of agony as her legs
literally chewed him alive. "Almost done, 10 to go," she growled at the near
end of the sentence. "Let's go out with a BANG!!"

For 10 agonizing minutes, Jett snapped her locked lower legs up and then
brutally shot them out straight and hard, putting on a pure burst of
100-percent scissor power that threatened to crack his skull into pieces, the
inner muscles thumping him with head- splitting power. Every 10th scissor
jolt, she'd fold up her locked calves into the back of his head, pushing his
crying face deep into the muscled clamp of her incredibly hard ass, much of
which was now exposed as her tiny shorts rode up into the crack. The glutes
were flexed, hollowed out and pumping, pinching his nose shut in the fierce
clamp of crushing meat as she pressed his face inward before letting go only
to resume the brutal scissor snaps, thighs thundering unrelentingly into his
head. "One minute to go," she announced, panting from the exertion. "Let's see
how much you can take."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" he screamed, and then his world went black.

Jett put on a 100-percent, full-bore, total scissor squeeze and then some, her
thighs pumped up with squeezing power to twice their normal size, the quads
pushing down on his shoulders, the thick hamstrings pulling at his head and
making it feel as if she'd pull it clean off. The adductors bubbled with
furious power, crackling into his skull, deafening him in their embrace until
he could hear nothing but the muted screams coming from his mouth and the
grunts of concentration from his tormentress. His hands fell away, the room
swum before his eyes before they closed. The adductors savagely clamped into
his carotids and as the eight-hour sentence in Jett's Leg Jail finally ended,
so did his grip on consciousness as he slumped into merciful sleep.

When he awoke, he groggily focused on his surroundings; he was lying on the
couch of the living room where Jett had dragged him after the final, nearly
lethal scissors.

He turned to the side, white-hot sheets of pain washing over his body, and saw
Jett sitting in her chair, robe back on and showing a glimpse of pumped-up
calf in the split of it. She looked stern, but cracked a small smile as she
spoke.

"Defendant Kan, your current term in Jett's Leg Jail is over," she said. "Now
there's the little matter of restitution."

"What?" he groaned, unable to move his head at all now as he struggled to sit
up.

"What restitution?"

She looked around the room, still messy from before.

"Cleaning this place up," she said. "You have 30 minutes to do so, and failing
that, you shall be brought back before this court to face more sentencing in
the leg jail!"

"A half hour?" he squealed, looking around. "Christ, it'll take me a half hour
just to recover enough to START cleaning up!"

She laughed and stood, peeling off her robe and walking toward the door. "I'm
going out for a short run, about a half hour," she said. "And when I come
back, this place had better be shipshape ... or else!"

Kan winced as she slapped her meaty thighs together in a mock scissors,
standing on crossed feet, the quads leaping out in bold relief from the rest
of her creamy thighs, calves bubbling out of her socks.

She left and he struggled to his feet. He hardly made a dent in the mess as
his body fought him in his cleaning, every bit of him in pain, from the
throbbing of his head to the sharp jolts of agony in his neck to the dull ache
of his ribs. He looked at the clock; it had been a half hour and the place
wasn't half done. There was a jangle of keys at the door and he fell to his
knees, begging for mercy from the court ...