DUSTED
by
C. Lakewood
Elizabeth St. John awoke slowly, stirred, and stretched. It
had been an unseasonably warm day, but it was cool there in the
veranda's shade, with the promise of getting even cooler, as the
late afternoon sun lowered toward the horizon. Already the day's
heat was beginning to dissipate. She luxuriated in her deck chair
for a moment. Then, as she came more fully awake, she realized
that it was very quiet...too quiet.
"Those people -- they're all alike." She adjusted her
clothing, what there was of it (halter and shorts), and stalked
off around the side of the house, looking for her hired help
(who were obviously loafing).
Elizabeth was not a bad woman, exactly. She was vain,
pretentious, self-absorbed, and grasping -- but no more so
than many of her sex. She was youngish (32), though no
longer actually young; attractive and well-built; almost a
natural blonde; divorced; and very definitely a woman of
leisure. She was, above all, self-satisfied; after all,
she had recouped her share (and more) of the family fortune
that had been squandered by her frivolous father some twenty
years before.
She had kept her married name -- as a matter of fact, the
only things she'd really liked about her ex-husband was his name
and his money, and now she had both the former and a large chunk
of the latter. She was, incidentally, very particular about her
name. She was "Elizabeth" -- not "Beth" or "Betty" or (yuck!)
"Liz." And she insisted people pronounce her last name in the
British manner: "Sinjin."
******************************
"Jewlio!" Elizabeth called. "Now where is that shiftless
greaser?" she wondered. She found Julio and his black partner
in crime, LaTreen, loafing under the backyard apple tree. She
pined (not for the first time) for the good old days of the
Antebellum South -- or even the Twentieth Century Near East
-- where you could beat a servant who annoyed you.
Julio immediately launched into an animated "explanation"
(liberally laced with Hispanic colloquialisms) about their
need for some sort of special fertilizer. It was mostly
incomprehensible to Elizabeth, though she did understand
the part about its being available, at this time of day,
only at a certain store a short distance across the county
line. She also understood Julio too well when he asked for
money and the loan of her car.
("Just how big a sucker do they think I am?" she muttered
and rolled her eyes.)
Making a reluctant decision, she had them spread new,
clean trash bags over the back seat of her BMW (to protect
the upholstery). Meanwhile, she changed into something that
seemed more suitable for yard work: fancy designer jeans, grey
silk blouse with silver embroidery, studded denim jacket, and
high-heeled sandals. On her way out, she paused to look at
herself in the mirror (of course) and wondered briefly if a
bandanna might neatly complete the look. Deciding to think
about that tomorrow, she left the house and shooed her hired
help into the back seat. Then they all set off to fetch
fertilizer.
******************************
They were well away from the main urban area, out amongst
fields and meadows, perhaps halfway into the trip, when they
were stopped by an array of flashing yellow lights signaling
them to pull over and park. Immediately, a young man appeared
at Elizabeth's window. He had an odd appearance, something of
a mixture of policeman and punk -- shabby jeans, gaudy sneakers,
and an Oakland Raiders jacket...with a gun-belt, badge, and
official-looking cap.
"Homeland Security, ma'am," he said. "Would you all please
step out of the car?"
Julio and LaTreen obeyed immediately. Elizabeth opened her
door, but hesitated, frowning. "What's this all about, boy?"
It was a poorly chosen word. While it was true that he was
younger than her -- perhaps even ten years younger -- he was
also black. His initial diffidence instantly evaporated. He
stiffened, took a step back, put his hand on his pistol, and
rasped, "Out of the car! NOW!"
As Elizabeth was tardily obeying, a hefty, middle-aged man
in a complete (if rather ill-fitting) uniform hurried up.
"These people givin' you a hard time, Deputy?"
"Oh, the two guys are okay, but the woman has a real smart
mouth, sir."
"O-kay. Noted." Ignoring Elizabeth, he turned to Julio and
LaTreen. "You should know that Homeland Security's got a big
problem hereabouts. Seems somebody with a funny name's been crop
dusting all throughout this area, using an unsanctioned chemical
that we think might pose a health hazard...of some sort.
"The Gummint's deputized a whole bunch of us to help out in
this emergency. And that van there's a mobile test lab...." He
hooked his thumbs in his belt and looked important. "We gone
have to ask you to copperate with us on this thang. You don't
want t'get classified as 'SUSPICIOUS,' now, do you?
"So, if you all'll just step over there and take off your
clothes, the lab guys'll test 'em for...uh...chemical residue
or whatever. If they're okay, you can soon be on your way again."
As the officer herded the three over to the designated area,
four technicians in full environmental protection suits popped
out of the lab van. Two of the techs descended on the BMW and
ran hand-vacs over it, inside and out. The other two walked up
to the officer and conferred briefly; they were carrying large,
heavy plastic bags.
At first, neither Julio nor LaTreen was very happy about
having to strip publicly, but, after a long look at Elizabeth,
they both brightened up. They even whistled merrily as they
began depositing their clothing into the assigned bags.
Elizabeth stood, irresolute, toying with the buttons on her
jacket. "Is-isn't there someplace private? I mean, I AM a
lady...."
The officer chuckled. "Well, 'female,' anyways. 'Lady'?" he
shrugged. "Irregardless, you strip down. Right now. And I'd
advise you to keep that smart mouth shut...'less you want to get
'LISTED.' Okay?"
"Now listen here, you-you...bloated toad. I will NOT get
undressed unless you provide me a separate area." She sneered
at him. "And I thought Nazis had better uniforms."
The officer (whose name-tag read, "Cohen," had Elizabeth cared
enough to look at it) showed a thin, nasty smile. "Have it your
way." He gestured to the young black deputy. "This woman's got
a real bad attitude. She's resisting authority. Suit up and
strip her!"
"No! Wait! I'm doing it! See?" She skinned out of her
jacket and kicked off her shoes, wincing when she felt the road
gravel under her tender, bare feet. And she hesitated only
momentarily before starting to unbutton her blouse.
Cohen cleared his throat. "Everythin' in the bag, girly."
Elizabeth was not happy about putting her spike-heeled shoes
and her expensive silk blouse together, but she did it. Her jeans
followed. She sighed, stepped back, and wrapped her arms around
herself.
"Everythin' off!" the officer growled.
"B-but...I...um...," Elizabeth sputtered. She glanced at Julio
and LaTreen and was horrified to see that they both were quite
naked. Her head was spinning. She was certainly not used to being
treated this way...being controlled, ordered about...being STRIPPED
in front of her SERVANTS. But...but....
"Could-couldn't I sit in my car...or go into the van?" She
shivered. It was beginning to get chilly.
"Course not! We got procedures here." He cleared his throat,
officiously, and went on as if quoting from a manual. "Your car
is...uh...'currently under investigation,' and 'the van maintains a
sterile environment inside.' You want to risk...'compromising' it
if you've been con-taminated?' Well?"
"N-no, sir. It's just that...."
"Well, 'it's just that' you better get your underwear off --
right NOW! The longer you stall, the more suspicious you look....
Okay, you two fellas, you strip her down...and no pussy-footing, or
you'll be in as much trouble as she is."
Julio and LaTreen, now having a bit of authority, did not
hesitate to exercise it. They ripped Elizabeth's last two
garments from her, the stylish but fragile lingerie suffering
in the process. The fragments were duly deposited in the bag,
and the technicians disappeared back into their van.
Elizabeth felt uncharacteristically helpless. She sagged
backward, onto something warm and yielding. She sighed and
wriggled involuntarily -- then skittered forward with a yelp
when she realized the "something" was LaTreen. The wind was
picking up as the temperature fell, and she shivered as it
licked her naked, sweaty skin. She fidgeted, trying to warm
herself. She looked sidelong at Julio and LaTreen. Neither
was exactly Mr. Olympia, though they were both pretty well
built....
"Omigod!" she gasped, as her gaze dropped to their crotches.
She had been a tease all through school and beyond, and she'd
seen a large number of pricks -- but never two quite like these.
Julio's was merely very long, very fat, very erect, and clearly
uncircumcised. But LaTreen's was bigger, more colorful (dark
brown, light brown, and carmine-rose), and misshapen (gnarled
and twisted).
It was a stupefying sight.
The wind was blowing harder now, and it smelled like it was
going to rain. She shivered again and hugged herself, using one
hand to shield her pussy. The cold was causing her nipples to
stiffen.... (It WAS the cold, wasn't it?)
"What's the matter, girly? Cold?" the officer asked, with
mock concern.
"Of c-course I am!"
"I'd get rid of some of that attitude if I was you. And when
you speak to me, say 'Sir.' You can exercise to warm yourself up.
Start off with jumping jacks."
"Shit!" Elizabeth responded.
The officer just grinned, pulled out a cell phone, and punched
in a number. "Yeah. Cohen here. The woman's mouthing off again.
Yeah, 'Saint John.' Seems to think she's Saint Joan or something.
Tell you what: hold off testing her stuff...oh, 'til further
notice. Right."
"I-I'm s-sorry," Elizabeth whined. "Sorry...sir."
"Well?"
She commenced doing jumping jacks.
Cohen watched until she was gasping and running with sweat
before he phoned the lab van again. Afterward, he kept his phone
handy and got in some practice with its camera function.
Not long after that, a tech emerged from the van with two
bags, each bearing a green sticker. He handed the bags to
Julio and LaTreen, saying, "You're both clean, and your car's
okay, too. After you dress, you can wait in the car. It'll
be more comfortable."
"Wh-what a-bout me? Elizabeth wheezed.
The tech shook his head and looked annoyed.
A few minutes later, Cohen's phone chirped. He listened,
grunted an acknowledgment, then turned to Elizabeth. "Sorry,
girly, they say that all the decoration on your clothes is
screwing up the equipment. They say they've re...re-calibrated
twice, but it's still a 'no-go.' You better get back to your
workout."
As time passed, the inspection site would be visited, at
intervals, by a Vietnamese couple in a VW, three middle-aged
rednecks in a battered Jeep, and six college guys in a noisy
pickup. All of them had to strip down, and all of them
(including both Vietnamese) regarded Elizabeth with interest.
(The Vietnamese woman, however -- with her flat chest, boyish
hips, wispy pubic hair, and bedroom eyes -- drew more than
passing glances only from Cohen and his camera-phone).
The technician that brought out the Vietnamese couple's
green-stickered bags also had some news about Elizabeth's
clothing. There had been some "anomalous" results from the
crotch of her torn panties...and the techs needed additional
material for testing.
Accordingly, she had to submit to having her pubic hair cut
short (and collected) and then, because the techs were tidy
scientists, shaved smooth with an electric razor. (It was a
buzzing, vibrating electric razor that left her weak-kneed and
quivering.)
Staggering through yet another set of exercises, Elizabeth
noticed the black deputy handing coffee and doughnuts to Julio
and LaTreen...who were smoking and listening to the car radio
-- SMOKING! IN THE BEEMER! She knew she should have been
outraged, furious at the way she was being treated, but all she
could think about, longingly, was how good coffee and doughnuts
would be right now....
Then, just as the Vietnamese couple was leaving, it began to
rain. The opening drizzle quickly morphed into a heavy downpour,
and Elizabeth was immediately drenched.
A few minutes later, a Jeep pulled off onto the shoulder, but
the three hairy yokels inside were told that they could stay in
their car until the rain eased.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth was told to stop lollygagging and pick
up the pace of her exercises.
She obeyed, shakily, and once again idly wondered why. She
was not submissive...not for a long time, anyway...and never with
men.... It's true that this WAS the government, sort of, but that
shouldn't be enough to turn her upside down and backwards....
Backwards...when she had backed into LaTreen, she realized now
that she'd felt his big, stiff cock pressing into her ass-crack,
its throbbing head searching for -- OMIGOD! -- for her warm,
virgin asshole.
Her breathing became labored.
She remembered Julio and LaTreen ripping off her bra and
panties. So macho.... Well, maybe they did deserve some
payback for her bitchiness.... But not sex...not fucking...and
certainly not butt-fucking. Many people -- maybe most people
nowadays -- don't consider a blow job to actually be "sex"....
Absurd, of course, but....
How long had it been since she had been truly satisfied?
Years, at least. After the divorce? No. During the marriage?
No, certainly not. In college? No. High school? No. She'd
always got what she'd wanted out of men; she'd always been
dominant, in control, but.... Well, was she happy?
No.
And now, stripped naked, bullied, put on display, forced to
prance around in the driving rain.... Why was she so accepting
of this? And why was she so goddamn horny?
She stumbled to a halt, her mind in a whirl and her pussy
throbbing. It occurred to her that the rain was radically
reducing visibility. And, no sooner had that thought passed
through her head, than her hand went to her crotch -- but not
to cover it this time. Her fingers slid over her wet flesh
and plunged deep. In and out, in and out.... She NEEDED this
so much.... Oh, god! She looked up, straight into Cohen's
eyes. She cringed, but couldn't stop -- even when she saw his
camera-phone.
The rain finally slackened to an intermittent mist, and the
three rednecks eagerly piled out of their Jeep, closed in on
Elizabeth, and started stripping. They were hairy and paunchy
and stinking of beer, but each was sporting a respectable hardon.
Elizabeth shivered, and not just from the cold.
She felt stupid and vulnerable, but, with barely a pause, she
continued masturbating.
The men cheered her on. The black deputy re-positioned
himself, Cohen adjusted himself, and even Julio and LaTreen
got out of the Beemer and moved closer to the action.
Then her audience grew even larger with the arrival of a
rattletrap pickup truck and six raucous frat rats. Cohen and
his deputy quieted them down some. Elizabeth blushed, but didn't
falter. If anything, her arousal grew.
After a while, a tech appeared with her bag. "Here's your
stuff, ma'am...most of it anyway. Your bra and panties weren't
salvageable, sorry. But the rest is clean."
"Yeah, much too clean to put on that wet, grubby body," Cohen
said, intercepting the bag and tossing to Julio. "Lock that in
the trunk of your car, son."
"But what will I wear?" Elizabeth whined, helplessly.
"Why, hell, darlin'," the biggest of the three rednecks
drawled. "I'm gonna get my stuff back pert' soon, an' you
kin have my t-shirt, if you and your friends'll come on down
the road a piece an' have a drink with us at the little ol'
tavern we been headin' for."
Elizabeth suddenly got modest and hid behind her hands
and arms in the classic pose, but she nodded, nevertheless.
"Th-thank you, s-sir," she murmured.
Later, when they brought out the three hillbilly bags,
the big man (whom Elizabeth was beginning to think of as
"Paul Bunyan") rummaged through his and fetched out a
well-worn, sweaty, 4X-sized t-shirt emblazoned, "Black
Sabbath." He casually tossed it to Elizabeth, who huddled
into it gratefully.
Her show was over.
At least for the present.
******************************
Elizabeth waited until all three of the good ol' boys were
dressed, then trudged over to the Beemer, despite plaintive
entreaties from the college guys to stay a while longer. The
dark t-shirt was a pretty good cover-up, but she knew she was
still showing more leg than a lady should. But did that term
still apply to her? Had it ever? Without hesitation, she
opened the rear door and swung her bare butt onto the garbage
bags that lined the seat.
She squished when she sat down.
******************************
Julio and LaTreen took the front seats, with Julio driving.
He started the car, waited a moment, then pulled out onto the
highway, behind the Jeep.
Cohen waved them on their way. "Have a safe trip, now," he
chuckled. "Enjoy the ride."