Hi, my name is Mandy, but my closest friends call me Mandy the Magistrate, partly because I work as a paralegal for a famous female divorce lawyer. And partly because I like to dish out my own private brand of justice to men!

Just ask my idiot neighbor from down the hall. He’s the one getting served right now from between my thighs. The impatient jerk had the nerve to move my clothes out of the dryer in the laundry room. He put his grubby hands all over my stuff, and now I’m gonna put my legs all over his head! The nerve of that creep, touching my bras and underwear. He’ll touch my underwear all right, with the tip of his chin as I’m scissoring him out cold!

Actually, to be fair it’s pretty common to move other people’s stuff in the shared laundry room, but I like to take use any excuse I can to humiliate, dominate and subjugate with my scissors. Besides, I never said my brand of Justice was fair, did I?...ha ha.

I guess that's why I love working for a female divorce lawyer. The pay is great, but really, I just love to see men squirm. My boss really goes to work on them, systematically breaking them down, destroying them, sometimes turning them into groveling boys. It makes me want to crack a coconut between my legs right there in the courtroom.

And if you want to know a secret, my boss is actually one of my biggest fans. A few years back, some dopey intern tried to hit on me after hours in the office. I bolted from my chair and took him down on the spot with a few judo throws, then clamped a vicious reverse headscissor on him. I thought we were the last ones to leave so I was going to take the opportunity to deliver some slow office justice. A beaten boy and an empty conference room for the night - mmmm, a perfect way to kill some time...and some brain cells.

Back at the office, I had this punk’s arm cranked to the breaking point in a vicious arm bar. He was squealing like a piglet so I lifted my leg and plugged his mouth with the heel of my stiletto pump. That shut him up. But wouldn’t you know it, my boss came back. She was shocked at first but when I told her what had happened, she was fascinated. Of course with 4 inches of heel down his mouth he never got out his side of the story. I finished him off with a tight schoolgirl pin, the crotch of my sensible work pants jammed into his throat. With my hand on my hips I jutted my pubic bone out plastering his head to the floor so that my boss could address him.

“To make amends to your female superiors, you will take home the company’s sexual harassment policy and memorize it”, she said down to him sternly. “Tomorrow morning you will give Mandy a full oral presentation. Unless of course you would like to apologize by giving her full oral right now...” Ha, now it was my turn to be shocked! I looked up at her and she raised an eyebrow and give me this smirk. “Make him understand...” she said to me coolly.

Anyway, back to the intern framed between my thighs. I knew exactly what my boss was hinting at, and I loved it. Slowly and deliberately, I slipped my crotch up and over his quivering chin and planted it on his mouth and nose. I spread my knees wide and made myself heavy on his beaten face. I took the opportunity to bounce every so slightly, flattening his nose for good measure.

“It’s important that you understand your position at this firm,” my boss said as she started slowly walking circles around us. All we could see of our dear intern were his wide eyes. “Obviously you fall under me, and if there is any question whether you are under Mandy, I suggest you take a deep inhale right about now.” I caught her flash a little smile. She was obviously relishing this.

“We will use you as we see fit, do you understand?” Went my boss. With that she gave me a little nod. I lifted every so slightly and started to rub my mound back and forth on him. I knew it had to hurt. I’ve face sat hundreds of guys and I knew from experience that a pant seam scraped across the face can really sting. Rough on the nose and brutal on the male ego. As evidence to this he started moaning and spilling tears on to the carpet. I threw my head back and sighed. God was this heating me up. After a few pumps, my boss tapped me on the shoulder and I rose slowly albeit reluctantly off his red, crying face and stood over him hands on hips.

“Satisfied?” My boss said joining me over his beaten form, “Not entirely,” I joked, “But it will do” We both shared a knowing laugh. We let the little twerp scamper out then split a bottle of wine in her office. From that day forward Mandy the Magistrate was born.

My boss had the brilliant idea that we shouldn’t just take men’s money in court, we should also take their dignity too. So we hatched a plan with some of our more vindictive clients to hunt down the ex-husbands and really finish them off. One last “fuck you” right before or after we took their cash.

There we were sneaking in to office buildings, vacation homes and hotel rooms. I squeezed the shit out of half the money in Beverly hills. Squeezed every last dime out of them, literally and figuratively. I knocked out plastic surgeons, broke the ribs of entertainment lawyers and sat on the faces of some of the most powerful men in Los Angels. I developed a special move where I would clamp my thighs around the sides of their heads so they couldn't hear and stuff my crotch against their mouths so they couldn't talk. We called it Mandy Muffs. Ha! It gave us a chance to plan our next moves. These guys who negotiated million dollar deals for a living couldn’t talk their way out from between my thighs. They couldn't talk at all!

Boy did our clients love our “discreet” legal service. And we ended up making a small fortune on the side. Most of them got their thrills just watching. After I subdued them, my boss would pour drinks and they would watch me torture the guys for hours. I’d have them sobbing, groveling and ready to kiss designer boots for forgiveness. “Pry open his mouth darling, and make him swallow his wedding ring, would you…?” Ha! What’s that saying “Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned…” Wow these women were brutal. A few of them actually wanted in on the action. These - stay at home, 6 day a week personal trainer - types were dying for the chance to test out their expensive muscles. I really got a kick out of teaching them moves and double-teaming their sad-sacked husbands. We’d go head and body scissor on them till they were retching in pain.

Of course they wasted no time in extracting revenge the only way a dominate woman knows how, with a celebratory faceride! “You always were a gold digger Brad, how about you dig around right now and see what you can find.” They would say grinding their trophy wife asses on beaten faces. And they were all gracious enough to allow me to reap my rewards for a job well done. I’d leave them unconscious their faces slicked with my victory. We got to calling it Justice Juice!!!! Ha.

Anyway, back to this buffoon. He’s going to serve a long scissor sentence and then I’ve got a good mind to shove a pair of my delicates down his throat until he chokes on them. From the looks of him, he doesn’t have much money to squeeze, so maybe I’ll put him to use as a laundry slave. “Hear that punk!? Your punishment is leg prison, followed by 2 months laundry duty. I want my things washed, dried, folded and left in front of my door twice a week. Here let me scoot up onto your face, I’m about to dirty my first pair of panties. Ha!!!! Justice is served!!!!!!”