James Fletcher cursed as he caught sight of the speed camera flash twice in his rear view mirror. He hit the breaks but it was too late.

"Damn those fucking things" he shouted to himself, turning down the car radio.

He drove on for a few miles, with the radio turned down, thinking and worrying about the horrid forms he would be receiving in the post in the next few days, asking him to confirm whether he `was the driver of vehicle...' etc. and to appear or appeal before a certain date.

"Damn !"

He reached over and turned up the volume on the radio. The broadcast was a few minutes into the news. Ironically, the topic being reported on was a controversial new method being used to deal with Motoring Offences:

"...the government has, today, approved the extension of a pilot scheme being operated by the new Motoring Offences Enforcement Authority. Special Correctional Treatment for Younger Motoring Offenders or "Scortmode" has been used to discipline a sample of the most serious speeding offenders amongst male drivers in the 18-25 age group. The government has now sanctioned the use of this measure to be applied to a wider group but some people are concerned as to the secrecy of surrounding what methods Scortmode actually uses and why only particular groups of drivers are being targeted. I spoke to Peter Anderton, of the Motoring Offences Enforcement Authority, earlier and put these concerns to him:"

"...Firstly, our research has found that the uncertainty as to the nature of Scortmode's methods acts as a powerful deterrent against speeding. Our pilot target age group was 18-25 year old male drivers because these have always proven to be the more dangerous of our drivers on the roads. Having found Scortmode effective amongst this age group, we now want to extend the scheme to a section of the 26-35 male driver age group for very good and specific reasons. Our research has further shown that male drivers, who are aged 26-35, in full-time, well-paid jobs are becoming more and more immune to the threat of losing their license. They are able to employ clever and articulate lawyers who argue the case that their clients would suffer unduly, because the nature of their work required them to be able to drive and without a driving license they could become unemployed and unemployable and that society on the whole would not benefit from this. Consequently there is an increasing concentration of offences committed by this group and it is this trend that we are now seeking to reverse."

"So who can expect now to be subjected to Scortmode ?"

"We have a set of criteria to follow, based upon an individual's circumstances, including the age and model of the car driven and other indicators as to the offender's financial status - if, after assessing these, the individual falls into that group who frequently are able to avoid the penalty point scheme through their financial ability to hire clever lawyers, they will be summoned to undergo Scortmode."

"So, at the moment, your not making the actual methods of Scortmode public, but what happens when word gets around - surely those offenders will be sharing their experiences with their colleagues won't they ?"

"They may or may not do. In any event we have plans in place if and when Scortmode's methods become public."

"Which are ?"

"I'm not in a position to say at the moment."

There was a slight tone of sadistic humour in Peter Anderton's last remark.

"Probably all some silly bloody weekly counselling sessions" muttered James to himself.

The report continued to its conclusion:

"Well, it would seem `watch out all you young executives' because the extension of Scortmode became effective from noon today and if your wondering what it's all about and you've been caught on camera in the last 40 minutes, you'll soon be finding out !"

"Oh great !" exclaimed James, sarcastically, glancing at the clock which read 12.47, "Just my luck. Typical of the authorities to target the hard-working top-rate taxpayers like me who generate the wealth of the sodding country."

James was a 31 year old corporate executive, who updated his car to the latest model, every year, and was, in every respect, `doing very nicely thank you'. When he wasn't thrilling from the exhilaration of tearing up and down Britain's motorways, clinching deals in the world of high-finance, he was playing golf or squash or thumbing through sports car magazines.

He turned off the radio with an annoyed "snap" and pulled up into the car park of the conference centre where the afternoon's business meeting was taking place.

"What time's your train ?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter, they run about every 20 minutes - but there's one at 17.25 I think" replied Alan, a younger colleague James had offered a lift to after the meeting had finished.

It was 17.00 hours and the hourly news bulletin just started on the radio:

"Good afternoon, I'm Sarah Featherstone-Haigh, and here is the news on January 25^th, 2014..."

James and Alan both listened to the headlines and James twitched again when the broadcast turned, once again, to the topic of Scortmode and repeated the interview with Peter Anderton.

"Wonder what all that bloody nonsense entails." James remarked innocently, not wanting to admit his newly arisen predicament.

Alan remained silent.

James looked over and noticed that Alan was blushing and looking rather uneasy.

"You OK ?, Alan"

"Yeah fine", Alan snapped.

"Sorry, mate - only asking"

"Do you mind if we have some music on instead of the news ?"

"No sure"

James turned off the radio abruptly cutting off Peter Anderton's voice which was advocating the reasons for the extension of Scortmode.

"Thanks."

James noticed Alan seem to relax a little, the minute he'd turned the news off . His mind turned over then he asked:

"Alan, have you undergone Scortmode ?"

Alan jumped and shot an annoyed look at James, followed by a few seconds silence.

"Yes, I been subjected to Scortmode" Alan eventually replied, nervously. "I was one of their experiments in the 18-25 pilot age group."

"What does it involve ?" asked James curiously.

"Please - you don't want to know - and I don't want to tell you - if you ever undergo it it's not something you'd want anyone knowing about either - please - change the subject."

He gingerly opened it and skimmed the contents of the form inside:

"Vehicle Details - Notice of Intended Prosecution - Alleged Offence(s) - Requirement to Nominate Driver - Failure to comply with this requirement within 28 days of receipt of this notice is an offence involving penalties on conviction."

James sighed in exasperation and completed the form, admitting the offence, and returned it.

"No point in arguing about it" he thought "they've got me - best get it over and done with, whatever it is".

About a week later, James received a further notice from the MOEA:

"You have admitted to being the driver of the vehicle detailed above and at the time and date stated. This vehicle was photographed by an enforcement camera at the time and dated stated as travelling at 30mph in excess of the prescribed speed limit. This is an offence contrary to Section 2 of Schedule 2 of the Road Traffic Act 1988. In accordance with the provisions set out in the 2014 amendment of the said Act you are required to present yourself at the place and time given below, to undergo Special Correctional Treatment for Young Motoring Offenders (SCorTMOde)."

James swallowed nervously.

"Please remove your jackets and roll up your left shirt sleeves" one of the men announced, which was duly and nervously done by the three young men in suit and tie.

James then noticed a hypodermic being prepared. "What's that ?" he exclaimed.

"It's just a sensitivity drug, it's quite harmless and only lasts temporarily."

After reluctantly being injected the three offenders were led into another room. On one side there were three chairs equipped with straps and buckles. These were frightening enough but nothing compared to the contraption opposite to them. What would be best described as a dentist's chair was equipped with restraints resembling stocks and the foot end and reinforced leather clasps above the head position. There were stools at both the foot and head ends of the chair.

James and one of the other offenders were led to the less ominous looking chairs and strapped in securely. The third and youngest offender was led straight to the "dentist's chair" and was firmly seated in it by three of the grey uniformed men. His ankles were fastened into the stocks and wrists into the straps just above his head.

The effect of whatever those injections were for were now becoming apparent to James. It felt as though every inch of his body was aware of the clothing that surrounded it - his skin had become very sensitive to the lightest touch, so that with every movement he made, the brushing of fabric against his skin made him flinch.

He watched in awe as a strap was passed around the first victims waist so as to make him almost immobile. Both James and the offender sitting next to him suddenly stopped their nervous breathing and held their breath as one of the wardens sat down on the stool at the foot end of the chair and started to unlace the poor guys shoes ! As if that wasn't terrifying enough, a second warden positioned himself on the stool at the head end of the chair and from behind began loosening the offender's tie ! The guy in the chair flinched a wriggled and gasped nervously.

"What the hell is this ?!" James thought to himself "What the fuck are these guys gonna do to us ?" James then suddenly became aware of something else which disturbed him - he felt a stirring in his trousers between his legs - he had a raging hard-on ! "Shit !" he thought to himself as he realised that despite his overwhelming feeling of fear and apprehension he was actually getting aroused by this experience !

James watched on, consumed with sexy terror as one warden pulled of the guys shoes and began to pull at his black nylon socks, whilst the other warden removed the poor guy's silk tie and began unbuttoning his shirt !

The young executive in the chair flinched and groaned as his socks were peeled off revealing his bare feet and his shirt was pulled open revealing his bare torso. His reactions changed from fear and frustration to one of obvious abject panic as a third warden approached with a trolley on which was displayed various instruments, including brushes and feathers...

"They can't be...", thought James, "Oh my god they fucking are too !"

Thinking aloud James shouted "Oh my God !" as the partially exposed young executive screamed: "NO !"

The wardens paid no attention to either of the protests but continued with their work in a disturbingly precise and methodical way. The warden at the foot end selected a large stiff feather and began circulating round and round on the soles of the victims bare feet. The warden at the head end repeated the exercise on the sides, belly and armpits. The poor guy laughed hysterically, his cackles interspersed with "NO ! PLEASE ! STOP ! OH GOD !"

Despite this latest horrific revelation, James still had a pounding erection, he sneaked a sly glance at the guy sitting next to him to see if he was suffering the same but nothing was apparent.

The tickle torture continued for about ten minutes with progressions to brushes and actual fingers digging in to the exposed parts of the poor guy's body. By the end the victim was screaming for mercy and once the wardens stopped his head flopped to one side and his chest heaved in and out gasping for breath. After this he was released and unceremoniously led to the vacant chair opposite and strapped in, where he sat quaking, panting and gibbering.

James didn't know whether to be thankful or not as the other guy was taken from his "security chair" and was bundled into the "tickle chair". The same process was repeated on the second victim for a second ten minutes with the same reactions of hysterical laughter from another handsome young executive.

During this James noticed that his arousal was actually limiting the effects of the sensitivity drug and that the brushings of his clothes against his skin as he gently wriggled in his chair became almost pleasurable.

His heart pounded as his turn came. As he was stood up and led to the chair, his erection let him down - he screwed his face up in embarrassment as one of the wardens pointed to it and said:

"This one's got a hard-on. We'll have to milk him first."

"WHAT ?!" shrieked James.

He tried to resist being strapped into the tickle chair - but it was useless - he was overpowered by six wardens. As his ankles were stocked and his wrists fastened he noticed one of the wardens pulling down a cord from the ceiling. This cord turned out to be a transparent tube on the end of which was an attachment which looked like...

"No it couldn't be...!"

...a milking machine ! The warden then put on a pair of surgical gloves and unzipped James's trousers and pulled out his huge hard cock which was swiftly lubricated with some sort of jelly. The phallic shaped equipment was then placed over James's swollen organ - down as far as it would go - and a switch thrown. The machine pumped and James's cock in a rhythmic motion, something inside it was stroking up and down his shaft ! His feeling of sexy terrified ecstasy was concentrated by the feeling of his shoes being unlaced and his tie being loosened. As his socks were finally pulled off and his shirt pulled back to reveal his gym-worked torso his shot his load into the machine and he gasped as he watched his white cum fly up the transparent tube.

"Perfect timing" remarked one of the wardens.

After he'd ejaculated the ultra sensitive feeling immediately rushed back to James's skin and he wailed a plaintiff: "Oh No" as the wardens took to their feathers.

As he writhed, screamed, shouted and cursed, James noticed a slight look of surprise in the faces of the two previous victims. Yes, he was making much more noise and fuss than they did - so what ? This was fucking torture ! Not only that, but complete humiliation - being half undressed and tickled was one thing - but having an audience was intolerably embarrassing.

After what seemed like hours, but was only ten minutes, James's Scortmode session was over. He and the other two offenders were released and led into a room where they were given the opportunity to straighten out their business attire before leaving the MOEA centre.

He checked his speed and slowed to within the speed limit as he passed an enforcement camera.

"Shall I ?!..." he whispered excitedly to himself. After all, the humiliation was actually less public than it would be if he were lose his license, his job - that he would hate ! Everyone would know then - all his friends, colleagues, squash partners. Thankfully, the MOEA had devised this exquisite alternative....

His cock stirred in his trousers. "Oh Fuck it !" he panted.

The next camera, the next camera...

He scanned the side of the road for speed enforcement cameras and warning signs. Eventually he spotted the familiar ugly grey box on a pedestal at the side of the road and floored the accelerator...

FLASH ! FLASH ! went the camera as he motored past.

James gasped a sigh of relief - that was it, he'd made the decision - he couldn't go on with the nagging "Shall I, Shan't I" any longer.

He slowed the car down slightly and turned up the afternoon radio news:

"...now we return to the controversial subject of Scortmode. The MOEA has today made announcements as to their latest amendments to the treatment which could mean bad news for speeding drivers. Earlier, Peter Anderton made this statement at a press conference:"

James's heart missed beat.

"We are pleased to report that Scortmode has been effective in reducing the overall number of offences amongst the targeted group. However, we were hoping to see a much quicker reduction than we have yet experienced. In order to reduce the number of offences at a quicker rate, the MOEA has decided to make the specific treatments used in Scortmode public. The way we are going to do this is not for me to make clear the details now but for me to state that for all offences committed since noon today, all offenders are to have their sessions of Scortmode broadcast on national television......

James hit the brake...