The SoHo Karen

2021 – Nellskitchen. All rights reserved. The essayist asserts her rights as the author of ‘The SoHo Karen.’ This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner (except for brief quotations in a review) without the writer’s express (written) permission. If the story appears on a website other than ‘Literotica.com,’ it is pirated and is absent the author’s permission. All characters appearing in “The SoHo Karen” are over the age of eighteen.

THE SOHO KAREN

By Nellskitchen

There is no denying it; both are quite beautiful, the standing woman, though in a milder, less overt sort of way, more so.

By contrast, the kneeling she-beast, the disreputable ‘SoHo Karen,’ though equally pretty, has tiny breasts and arrogantly flaunts her meanness; its display, a parade of negative energy she refuses to hide.

“Fuck you! I won’t swallow,” she screeched. “You can’t make me. Fuck all of you!” Pursing her lips, and with his massive erection inches away, she jerked her head around and glaring at the jury, she raised her voice, snootily announcing, “I never swallow for black guys–NEVER!”

Having voiced contempt for the judicial process, the girl returned her attention to the dangling cock. Shutting her eyes against the intimidating sight of its uncircumcised girth, and with her displeasure unmistakable, she grudgingly tongued the tip and drew it into her mouth.

The young woman’s skill at giving head was evident to the dozen women acting as witnesses, with several doubtlessly skilled fellatrixes in their own right, reluctantly nodding approval. The solitary male, a visibly annoyed government contractor, obviously in a hurry, displayed impatience by glancing at his watch, his only remaining article of attire.

“You best be mov`n this thing along, honey,” he warned. His deep, intimidating voice got her attention, especially when he added, “Or my black ass is out`a here.”

Popping his cock from her mouth, she snapped at him, saying, “I don’t care about your black ass; I demand equal justice!”

“Justice is served once you complete your sentence,” Prison Superintendent and Chief Deputy Director Gabriella Dimka mildly reminded.

Standing next to the unlikely pair, and with her straight black hair fashioned into a tight, stylish ponytail, the superintendent, her full breasts surging against the buttons of her close-fitting black leather uniform, was a focus of jealousy, directed at her not only by the genuflecting prisoner but equally by an envious jury–the latter, twelve women of color.

Only yesterday, the jurors had convicted prisoner No. 666.6 of the recently defined hate crime of ‘Karen-ness.’ Due to the notoriety of the case, all are relieved their obligation to the court is nearly complete. The timing could not be better since several have reported online white supremacist threats. Today, however, they stand witness to the ‘Karen’s’ reckoning.

Supervising the event, Chief Deputy Director Dimka, who rarely involves herself in such unsightliness, is at the center of the mess. Her reason: the ‘Karen’ committed a ‘special victims’ offense, requiring the supervisor’s direct participation. With its lurid details bandied about on social media and scrutinized in the press, U.S. Attorney Yolanda Adams felt compelled to intervene, requesting that the veteran official personally see to the administration of justice.

During the trial, the judge had carefully schooled the jurors, in the process, broadening the definition of a ‘Karen.’ She described them as ‘neither middle-aged nor blonde, but rather as non-black females who wrongly accuse men of color of preposterous transgressions,’ of which the prisoner stands guilty.

“I agree,” the judge, in closed session, explained, “that ‘Karens’ are typically blonde–but in this court’s view, they need not be. A true ‘Karen’ conjures solutions to others’ problems concerning any inconvenience to her–though she is not even remotely affected.

“A ‘Karen’ harasses others,” she went on, “and threatens lawsuits, complains, for instance, that a ramp for wheelchair victims has replaced her favorite parking spot, proceeds to park her car in the old spot anyway–then posts a ‘vlog’ about it.”

The jury, attentive, took notes, asked questions, and rendered a guilty verdict after a mere fifteen minutes.

Now, one day later, Gabriella Dimka takes charge of the miserable felon’s final humiliation. Given the publicity surrounding the case, she knows if this particular wrongdoer demonstrates no change of heart–the ‘Karen Mitigation Program’ she oversees will land on the budgetary chopping block.

The kneeling woman, twenty-two-year-old Miya Ponsetto, is a challenging and rabid sort. Displaying utter lack of remorse, she has, despite her conviction, doubled down on her original accusation–that a stranger, a teenaged boy, stole her cell phone.

With the court judging the ‘Karen’ incapable of becoming a more complete person, she is here to serve out her sentence at the Manhattan Institute for Privileged White Women. Since the Ponsetto case is crucial, Gabriella sees to its details, her expert attention, on point.

The SoHo ‘Karen’s’ punishment is not complicated. Called ‘The Grind,’ it falls under strict federal guidelines. With lights dimmed, with the jury observing, and the arrogant perpetrator kneeling but fully dressed in a white, Duchess satin blouse, crepe wide-leg black pants, and heels, Gabriella, riding crop in hand, snaps its end squarely onto her palm, signaling the observance’s commencement.

‘The Grind,’ employed in similar cases since the early 2020s, has shown positive results. Though applied sparingly by the courts–some say too sparingly–the number of reported ‘Karens’ continues to dwindle.

Reading from her tablet, the prison official carefully addresses the unrepentant woman: “Miya Ponsetto, as per court order, the penalty chapter of your detention begins now. The guards will remove your blouse and bra.”

Gabriella, a consummate professional, issued the instruction calmly, but a glower from the ‘Karen’ provoked further directness: “The judge’s order calls for partial undress,” she explained. “You may leave your pants on but are required to serve your sentence topless.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the ‘Karen’ insisted. Again, turning to face the jury, she glared, and baring her teeth in anger, shouted, “Topless or not, it won’t matter where some hired guy fucks my mouth! I want my top left on!”

Several jury members, fearful the young woman might turn violent, shifted uneasily in their chairs, and two correctional officers, each identifying as female, slow-walked in their direction, their purpose, to take up positions between the felon and her adjudicators.

Remaining calm, Gabriella, though annoyed at the offender’s continued belligerence, set a gracious example. Slowly circling the seething prisoner, she nodded to the guards who, readying their Billy Clubs, eyed the perp.

“Ms. Ponsetto,” the Chief Deputy Director continued, “contrary to what you allege, the gentleman currently donating his services is not ‘some hired guy,’ he’s a federal government contractor–Board Certified in this process. For your information, he comes highly rated by nine prior ‘Karens.’

“Meet Mr. Ja’Corbie Mali,” she announced, pointing to the man. “He’s in the U.S. from Nigeria and is here to complete his schooling; he falls under a grant from the Department of Education, including an internship here, at the ‘Manhattan Institute for Privileged White Women.’ You will be wise to treat him with the respect due to immigrant workers.

“In other words, you should be more appreciative, young lady. And, by court order, ‘Karens,’ throughout this process, are responsible for maintaining a contractor’s erection–that his ejaculation is on you, sister. If it doesn’t happen properly, your sentence repeats tomorrow morning.”

“Yea, right,” Ponsetto, backing her head off the Nigerian’s phallus, lectured. “My lawyer says contractors are just guys trained to control their ejaculation, making ‘The Grind,’ as you call it, go on for fucking ever! I’ll have you know I bring my boyfriend off in less than five minutes–five minutes! Anyone can see the deck is stacked against certain women–white women!”

In frustration, and with a subtle nod from the official, three additional officers, also identifying as female, stepped forward. Two seized the ultra-proud ‘Karen’s’ arms. A third ripped away her blouse and bra, revealing tiny, girlish breasts, even as the obnoxious woman struggled to frustrate this additional humiliation.

Pointing ominously, the government overseer, firm in her resolve and with her deerskin flogger at the ready, further admonished the ‘Karen,’ adding, “Obey hon, and in no time flat, you’re free to go.”

“I’m not swallowing,” the ‘Karen’ repeated. “And just because I have little boobies, you don’t have to say rude things like, ‘no time flat!’ It victimizes girls with little tits! And I told you, I don’t swallow for black guys–even though I sucked off two at a party once!”

The shameless and now half-naked girl was proving to be everything to which her arrogant public image hinted, leaving Gabriella ever more committed to complete ‘The Grind,’ full tilt.

Ponsetto’s troubles began the day she flitted through the Arlo SoHo Hotel’s lobby in New York, loudly accusing a child of stealing. Confronted over the concocted story, she fled, but soon after, she plastered her made-up details on social media.

Occurring as the boy’s stunned father looked on, the resulting scandal prompted an FBI investigation and the conclusion that the child had done nothing wrong.

Video of the sham non-event appeared on ‘Crime Stoppers,’ provoking a nationwide hunt and eventual arrest of the deceitful woman. Afterward, in court, Ponsetto lectured the magistrate, insisting, “I’m Puerto Rican; I can’t be charged under the ‘Karen’ Laws; ‘Karens’ are white girls!”

Sternly, Judge Sheila Abdus-Salaam begged to differ. “Any non-black woman, who does what you did to a black child, is subject to the ‘Karen’ guidelines. The Court sentences you to perform two acts of modified community penance at the ‘Manhattan Institute for Privileged White Women,’ both sentences to be served concurrently.”

Concurrently?” Assistant D.A., Benjamin Bunch-Davis, jumping to his feet, objected. “But, Your Honor, this young lady did a most egregious thing. She attacked an African-American child over a made-up theft. The people request a stronger message, that the ‘Karen’ serves both sentences consecutively! Her white privilege needs addressing. I respectfully insist…”

“…insist all you like, Mr. Bunch-Davis,” Judge Abdus-Salaam scolded. “You may plead your concerns on appeal.” Banging her gavel, she announced, “Court adjourned.”

As she departed, the SoHo ‘Karen’ stared icily at her youthful victim. The teen and his father, still horror-struck over her behavior in SoHo, stared back. Moments later, and as they stepped out onto the street, N.Y. Times reporter Maggie Haberman shouted to the boy’s father, asking, “Mr. Harrold, do you feel justice was served?” The legendary musician, a look of scorn on his otherwise friendly face, turned thumbs down.

**Part II**

The ‘Karen’s’ topless condition did not have its desired effect. Instead of remorse, the shameless girl, again turning to face the jury, stuck out her tongue.

“You will cease such behavior this instant,” Chief Deputy Dimka, with a look of contempt, insisted. “Change your ways, or your punishment will double–from concurrent oral copulation–to consecutive.”

Just then, a hitherto unused door quietly opened, drawing the attention of the tiny assembly as all eyes riveted to a tall, powerfully built, near-naked, African man. Accompanying him was a striking, middle-aged Asian woman whose nametag read: ‘Dr. Sakura Lee–Sino Testicle Director or STD.'”

The STD was a study in stoicism, her blank stare ominous. The man, however, looked about the room, making eye contact, not only with several attractive women of the jury but also prison officials. Nodding, chortling, and at times, winking, he acknowledged each, for their amusement, tensing his weight-lifter-like upper torso for the tiny audience of admirers, whose ‘ooh’s and ‘aahs,’ let slip, their adoration.

The man’s genitalia, cloaked in a white, loose-fitting wrap-around bath towel, barely concealed his intentions. Indeed, his relaxed demeanor spoke to extensive experience. Slowly, he approached the petite ‘Karen.’ Goliath-like, he looked down as if leering at a cowering David.

As he did, Chief Deputy Gabriella Dimka coolly announced, “By way of explanation, the court randomly assigns duties from lists of foreign volunteers who serve as ‘Grinders,’ in ‘Karen’ cases.” Addressing the STD, she went on to say, “Dr. Lee, you may remove Mr. Mali’s covering.”

The Testicle Director expertly loosened the towel, and it fell to the floor, revealing to a hushed jury the contractor’s half-erect, spectacularly imposing manhood.

Grasping his scrotum, Dr. Lee lightly, and in a most professional manner, groped the man’s testicles. Bringing him to full erection and drawing back his thick foreskin for all to see, she touched the yummy dampness at its tip.

Grinning proudly, Dr. Lee displayed her glistening forefinger to the jury, then reached down and brushed the precious liquid just under the prisoner’s nose, prompting the ‘Karen’ to screw up her face in disgust.

Stepping back, the gorgeous Asian offered a half-smile in response to the jury’s collective gasp, then, thrusting her ample breasts forward, she nodded to the jurors, relinquished her grin, and stood at attention. After allowing the moment’s astonishment to settle, the STD stepped forward again and ran her fingernails the length of the underside of the giant man’s cock for inspection.

Impressively, the engorged organ projected several inches above his belly button. Its exact positioning exposed the enormity of the shaft and the African’s near tennis-ball-sized testicles. Fleetingly, the Asian woman frowned at the prostrated detainee, and knitting her brow, turned her attention back to the jury before reverting to the impassiveness of moments earlier.

“I’m not sucking that,” the ‘Karen,’ directing her anger at Gabriella, insisted. “Black guys are too big! What if I can’t fit him in my mouth? Isn’t there someone else? Some normal guy I can serve out the court’s discriminatory sentence with?”

Her expression turned from insistent to pleading but failed to move Gabriella, who, in an unusual display of emotion, rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Best get down to it, hon,” the official curtly advised. She nodded to the man, who, on cue, inched forward and caressed the ‘Karen’s’ cheeks with the sticky tip of his cock, prompting the disgusted prisoner to wipe away the unwelcome fluid.

“I hate black precum,” she sparked. Drawing back and attempting to raise herself, the facility’s highly trained guards hurriedly reacted, binding her ankles with a lengthy zip tie and virtually immobilizing the diminutive girl’s lower extremities.

“I won’t,” she shouted, “I won…”

As she endeavored to repeat the word, the contractor, to everyone’s relief, shut her up by shoving his cock into her mouth, the ‘Karen’s’ eyes bulging in shock as he obstructed her airway. Turning businesslike, Ja’Corbie’s grin dissolved; he gripped her nose between powerful fingers and pressured the ‘Karen’s’ throat, forcing himself deeper. With her breathing restricted, smiles beamed from the jury’s energized women whose delight grew as the bound woman struggled for air.

“You go to it, Ja’Corbie!” One grinning juror, tilting her head provocatively, snapping her fingers and half-rising from her chair, chanted. “Teach that prissy bitch a lesson she won’t forget!” The man’s unexpected move took the fight out of the spirited girl, and after a long moment, the unlikely couplers passed to a working rhythm.

Ja’Corbie, as men typically do through standing blowjobs, fully controlled the subservient woman, demeaning her according to the old-fashioned roles of male and female–legal, though heavily overseen, under the ‘Karen’ Regs. “I ain’t do’n this for pleasure, bitch–it’s hard work,” the man looking down his nose at her, grunted. “It’s a public…it’s a public service. ‘Karens,’ well–you guys don’t deserve it, but us volunteers, we do it for the good of all involved.”

Several jury members nodded, with one silently clapping her hands in mock applause. All paid close attention, some even shifting their bottoms to the edges of their folding chairs. “I can’t see,” Juror number eleven, craning her neck, complained. Unintentionally standing in her way, a guard courteously stepped aside as the creative process worked its magic, and Miya Ponsetto’s eyes streamed tears of remorse.

To prove her change of heart, she jerked her head back, shoved Ja’Corbie away, viciously coughed, and with her last ounce of emotional strength, relented. “I’m sorry, OK? I apologize about the phone thing, about that kid at the hotel. I didn’t mean it–well, I mean, I meant it, but not in a bad way! It’s just that I couldn’t find my phone! It was in my purse all the time but got buried under some tampons and him being black and all, well, it just seemed like the sensible thing.” The young woman’s anxious attempt at confession fell on deaf ears.

The hard-working Nigerian, conscious of the time and scheduled to service the ‘Central Park Karen’ that afternoon, seized Ponsetto’s hair and forced his cock into her throat. Choking back a continuous stream of tears, the kneeling woman convulsed, cried more, gulped more, but complied with the tempo the Certified Government Contractor established.

Ja’Corbie, shutting his eyes, ceased pinching the kneeling woman’s nose. Instead, he grabbed the ‘Karen’s’ ears, even more forcefully driving himself into her throat. Reacting fiercely, and though she pretended to suck hard, her white supremacist revulsion lingered, barely hidden under a veil of crocodile tears.

The unexpected happened, and with a loud sigh from the jury, and to the surprise of everyone, the ‘Karen,’ again, managed to shove the giant man away, his muscled thighs, for a moment appearing almost unsteady.

Collapsing to her hands and knees, Ponsetto erupted into fits of gagging coughs, only to further dumbfound the jury by straightaway righting herself before taking the contractor back into her mouth, at which point, his thrusting continued as before.

Nevertheless, she was not finished and managing to detach herself yet again, the wretched woman spewed disgust, calling out, “I told you, I hate black guys’ cum!”

Another moment later, and despite the ungrateful ‘Karen’s’ objections, Ja’Corbie re-engaged and aggressively pumping his erection; his entire body tensed, and he ejaculated into her throat.

The vile ‘Karen,’ finally determined to get on with her life, gave up the fight. Instead, just as Ja’Corbie drew his cock from her overflowing mouth, Deputy Director Gabriella Dimka spoke up, and urging the prisoner to complete her obligation to the court, said, “The gig is up, girl. Swallow now…do it…gulp that load. Come on; CSPN’s cameras are rolling.”

However, Gabriella’s admonishment came too late, as by then, the young woman had vomited, disrespectfully hacking away the contractor’s thick semen, which puddled between her knees. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she sobbed into the floor, her crimson cheeks evidence of failure.

Gabriella, shaking her head and looking on contemptuously, positioned the flogger’s leather grip under the ‘Karen’s’ chin, raised her face, looked into her doughy eyes, and said, “Honey, you fucked up. Tomorrow, you repeat the process–and every day after that until you get it right.”

Maya, incredulous, persisted in her vain attempt at repentance, but neither the jury nor the facility’s supervising official, bought it. “I’ll clean the floor with my tongue,” the loathsome girl offered between sobs. “I’ll…can I at least suck a white guy’s cock tomorrow?”