A COMPLETE DEMONSTRATION by Joe Doe A SCHOOL PRINCIPAL VOLUNTEERS TO HELP HER HUSBAND BY WORKING AT THE POLICE CONVENTION TRADE SHOW. SHE FINDS HERSELF STRAPPED DOWN OVER A BENCH AS A "DEMONSTRATION MODEL" FOR A COMPANY THAT SELLS STRIP SEARCH PRODUCTS. JUST WHEN SHE THINKS IT COULDN'T GET ANY WORSE, ONE OF HER DELINQUENT SENIORS ARRIVES AND DECIDES THAT HE WANTS A "COMPLETE" DEMONSTRATION. Jeff was bored and restless as he walked through the exhibition hall. The police convention was almost the last place he wanted to be, but at least the exhibition hall was better than having to listen to a lot of boring speeches. And anything was better than school. At 18, Jeff was at a turning point in his life. He had been the star of the football team, but his academic and disciplinary problems made college impossible. His father wanted him to join him in law enforcement, but Jeff knew that he should probably be sitting in a jail and not running one. But, if working for his dad part time as a "deputy" allowed him to get out of school, it was worth it, even if he had to wear the dorky police uniform. The exhibition hall didn't open for another hour, but, with his badge and gun, Jeff looked totally at home as he walked up and down the aisles. Most of the booths sold boring junk like fingerprinting computers and radar guns, but, every now and then, Jeff saw something that sparked his interest. One of the handcuff companies had decided to "spice up" its exhibition with a line of scantily clad prisoners wearing handcuffs. The half-naked women didn't look too happy about being there, but Jeff enjoyed watching them blush their way through their "community service." At the end of the row was a booth with a huge marquee, "STRIPCO: For ALL Your Strip Search and Inmate Processing Needs!" But it wasn't the sign that sparked Jeff's interest. In the center of the booth was a small black bench, with a luscious redhead strapped over it in a humiliating "bottoms up" position. The woman tried desperately to turn her face away as Jeff walked towards her, but, when he got closer, he realized why she was so desperately trying to avoid eye contact. The woman strapped over the bench was the principal at his school, Mrs. Debbie Johnson! He couldn't believe it. If he had a nemesis in his life, it was Mrs. Johnson. Every time he failed a test, or participated in a prank, it was Mrs. Johnson who tried to have him expelled, or who tried to press criminal charges. Of course his dad was the local sheriff, and he was a football hero, so she always failed. But that never stopped her from trying. Jeff was an affable young man, and he usually had no trouble wrapping both students and teachers around his finger -- certainly he hadn't made it to his senior year based by studying. But Debbie Johnson was different. She was prissy and aloof, and made a point of keeping a cool professional distance in her dealings with Jeff. Although she was attractive, she always wore her long red hair in a tight bun, and she dressed in frumpy charcoal or navy blue suits. Jeff joked with his friends that Debbie was more of a man than most of the guys on the team. But she didn't look like a man now. The proud principal was wearing just a wispy pair of lacy white panties and a midriff-baring t-shirt. She was strapped in a kneeling position, so her cute panty-clad butt faced the people walking past the booth. Her long red hair cascaded down around her shoulders. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts jiggled provocatively underneath her as she twisted around to look at the clearly startled Jeff. He was amazed. Who would have thought that Debbie Johnson, his battleaxe school principal, was a HOT BABE? "Um...what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to maintain some measure of professional decorum. "Shouldn't you be in school, YOUNG MAN?" She tried to sound stern, but, in her present situation, it came off as ridiculous, and her voice cracked fearfully at the end of the sentence. "I'm here as part of cooperative education, Mrs. Johnson," Jeff explained, helpfully. He smiled down at her. "I think the real question is, what are YOU doing here? Shouldn't YOU be in school, YOUNG LADY?" He was smiling broadly, but she wasn't. She had lorded it over him for a long time, and this sudden reversal of fortunes made her very uncomfortable. Still, Jeff might be her ticket out of this mess, so she dutifully explained what happened. "My husband, Tim, is a state trooper, and he was supposed to work a trade show booth, but he got sick." Her words came quickly. "Tim called around for hours to find a replacement to substitute for him, but he couldn't. So I called in sick so that I could take his place in the booth. Anyway, when I got here they'd already found a couple of troopers to sit in for him, so they didn't need me. One of the troopers suggested that I go backstage to see if they needed any help, and I ended up getting locked in a room with a bunch of female prisoners. I tried to explain the mistake, but no one would listen." She was plaintive now. "The next thing I knew they'd stripped me down, strapped me to this bench, and wheeled me out here." "Just in time too, teacher!" Jeff said, brightly. "The exhibition hall is going to open in just a few minutes!" She shuddered. "Jeff, you have to call my husband, or tell the troopers what happened. No one knows I'm here! Help me get out of these restraints." Her fingers worked desperately at her bonds, but it was clear that she was going nowhere. He smiled. "I'd sure like to, Mrs. Johnson, especially seeing as how you've always been so nice to me," he said, sarcastically. "But you told me that I shouldn't allow my friendships to get in the way of my studies. Today I'm here to evaluate police products for my dad. I need to get on with my research now." He paused and ran his fingers up the exposed part of the bench between her spread legs. "For example, that bench you're strapped to sure does look interesting." He read the attached card aloud: WITH THE X-2000 STRIP SEARCH BENCH, YOUR SUSPECTS WILL BE HELPLESS TO RESIST CAVITY SEARCHES, SUPPOSITORIES, AND ALL SORTS OF CORPORAL PUNISHMENT. WITH ITS PATENTED "BUTT FIRST" DESIGN, THE X-2000 MAKES ALL THOSE HARD-TO-REACH PLACES... COMPLETELY REACHABLE! He laughed at the stupidity of the ad. Who wrote this stuff? "Well, since I'm here to evaluate this bench, I guess I should see if it is as good for cavity searches as they claim." He teasingly ran his fingers over the wispy silk of her panties. "Of course, you can't perform a cavity search if the criminal is wearing these." He began toying with the waistband of her panties, playfully pulling the elastic away from her skin to expose the top of her bottom crack, and then releasing it so that the elastic SNAPPED back loudly against her skin. "How dare you touch me!" She was indignant. "I demand that you release me, RIGHT NOW!" "Oh, don't make a fuss, teach," he said. "You'll just draw a crowd." She immediately stopped squirming and lowered her voice. "That's better," he said, soothingly. "I think you're in enough trouble already, young lady, without making it worse by being insolent." He began ticking off her offenses: "Skipping school...lying about being sick...sneaking around back stage...." She flinched; Jeff had adopted her tone and mannerisms, and he was mocking her by playing principal. "For starters, if you want me to help you, I expect to be treated with respect," he said, adopting a tone of mock seriousness. "I think from now on you should call me Officer Wallace...or just 'sir' -- as in 'Yes, sir' or 'No, sir' or 'Right away, sir.'" Debbie said nothing at first, fuming at the impudent student. He would pay for this! But, as he teasingly ran his finger inside the waistband of her panties, continuing to snap it, she soon realized she had no choice. Jeff's unspoken message was clear: either she played along, or her scanty underpants were coming DOWN! "Yes, sir, Officer Wallace," she said, as meekly as she could. "Whatever you say, Officer Wallace." He laughed. "That's MUCH better. And, from now on, I think I'll just call you Debbie. That's okay with you, isn't it, Debbie?" She said nothing, so he ran his finger down her bottom and then worked it between her splayed thighs. She let out a little gasp as he started to rub her panty-covered pussy with his finger. He let out a gasp too. She was wet. The stuck-up, haughty little princess was DRIPPING WET! "Yes, sir, Officer Wallace," she called out, desperate to evade his probing finger. "Please call me 'Debbie,' sir." "That's a good girl, Debbie," he replied with a chuckle. "That's a good little perp!" Jeff hooked his two thumbs into the waistband of the silky panties and adopted a sad, regretful tone. "Still, if we're going to search you, I'm afraid these are going to have to come ALL THE WAY DOWN, Missy!" A tear rolled down her cheek as he slid her panties down into a clump around her knees. But the worst part was that his humiliating taunts had made her hot as a pistol, and she knew that her student could see her shameful wetness now. She was totally exposed. "So, you're a natural redhead after all?" He tugged on a few of the delicate, damp hairs between her legs. "Please, Jeff...don't touch me...not THERE!" Suddenly she felt a stinging slap across her backside. "Prisoners should speak when they are spoken to!" It was the voice of the StripCo salesman, who had just returned to the booth to make final preparations for the show. "It's okay," Jeff said, coming to Debbie's defense. "I used to know her before she was a prisoner." "That doesn't mean she gets any special privileges now," the salesman said, looking down at Debbie coldly. "No, it certainly doesn't, especially not in her case!" Jeff was quick to agree. He told the salesman who his father was, and the man brightened immediately, because he knew that Jeff's dad had a reputation for running a department that thrived on strip-searching pretty young female suspects. He could practically smell the sale. (Or maybe that smell was just Debbie....) The salesman quickly offered him a FULL demonstration of his product line, even though the show didn't officially open for a few more minutes. Jeff eagerly agreed. The salesman started by flipping a switch to "demonstrate" the bench that Debbie was strapped to. The black bench suddenly sprang to life, and she felt her bottom being thrust into the air and her legs being spread even wider than before. This new position left every inch of her dripping pussy (and even her tight little sphincter) fully available for whatever Jeff and the salesman had in mind. What they had in mind quickly became clear as the salesman began to hawk the wonders of StripCo's new ULTRA-SHEER gloves. "You don't want to go sticking your hand up some little floozy's pussy without some protection." he explained, regarding her with contempt. "But, at the same time, the ULTRA-SHEER fits like a second skin, and it allows you to fully FEEL every sensation of the search area. It's almost like a condom for your hand!" Debbie felt her stomach muscles tighten as she heard Jeff put on the glove with a playfully loud SNAP! There was a mirror in front of her face, and, over her shoulder, she could see him wiggling his fingers playfully as he smiled down at her. She had originally thought the mirror was there so that she could see behind her without twisting her neck. But, as she looked at Jeff and the salesman, they in turn were carefully gauging her reaction to Jeff's finger wiggling, and the truth dawned on her. "The bastards want to be able to see the look on my face when they do it to me." Jeff was methodical and deliberate, beginning by running his fingers slowly up and down the lips of her sex, stopping occasionally to tease her exposed love button. Then he began to work his fingers slowly in and out, in and out. He proceeded with agonizing slowness, pulling his fingers out only when she was just seconds away from orgasm. She gasped for air; he just couldn't leave her like this! But that is exactly what he did, simply moving on to the next part of her search. "Now you didn't really need any lubricant for that steaming wet twat of hers...you could practically hold a clam bake in there!" The salesman laughed at his own wit. "But, if you slip on a fresh glove, I'll show you how our new WONDER LUBE gel can grease up her tight little poop chute so that you can give her a really good poke up there, too!" Jeff quickly pulled off the glove and tossed it into the large wastebasket right by Debbie's face. She heard another SNAP and looked up to see him smearing the greasy goop on his finger, almost as if he were lubricating his cock for sex. She tried to tighten her sphincter to save herself from the humiliating intrusion, but he wouldn't be denied. He spent several minutes methodically finger-fucking her bottom, while he casually chatted with the salesman about his father's "business." He occasionally ran his thumb teasingly over Debbie's clit, but, once again, he pulled his tormenting fingers away just moments before she would have been able to orgasm. "And I thought it was frustrating when Jeff was my STUDENT!" She cursed him silently as she tried desperately to bring herself to orgasm. But the bench held her tightly in place, and she could do nothing but squirm in agony as pleasure was once again denied her. "Now, now, Debbie," Jeff said in a patronizing voice. "Part of being an adult is learning how to defer these urges of yours, young lady." He laughed, once again delighted at being able to turn one of her tried and true lectures against her. Although the search was over, the sales pitch was not, and the slimy salesman quickly began pitching his next item. "With the Electro-Cam, you can take digital mug shots without wasting film, and store them in our unique computer filing system!" He smiled, glancing at the wet and exposed Debbie. "We ordinarily use this for mug shots, officer, but perhaps you'd like to take some pictures of yourself and the young lady here?" "If I did, could you send the pictures in .jpg format to my e-mail account?" "With our amazing new system, forwarding pictures to other law enforcement agencies through e-mail is just a click away," the salesman happily replied. Debbie winced. Jeff smiled and picked up the camera. Most of the pictures that he took were just of Debbie, but he snapped on a new glove so that he could get a couple of what he jokingly referred to as "action shots." These consisted of Jeff smiling broadly at the camera while he probed Debbie's wet twat and tight bottom hole. But, whether or not he was in a picture, he always made sure that each one showed her blushing face. "That is the nice thing about our system," the salesman gushed. "Since there is no film involved, you can take as many pictures as you want!" Jeff eagerly tested the salesman's claim, snapping picture after picture. "I'm going to have to buy a crate of blank CDs for all these pictures," he teased, as Debbie squirmed helplessly over the bench. When Jeff had finished with the camera, the salesman held up the last demonstration product of the day. It was a large wooden paddle, designed to "reform recalcitrant prisoners," the salesman proclaimed loftily. "I'd rather spank her myself," Jeff replied, taking the paddle and tapping it against his palm as if to test it. It was much heavier than the one she had used on him in school a few weeks ago, and the holes would mean less air resistance. She had taught him enough about paddles for him to know this one would make quite an impression. He tapped the paddle against her bare backside. "How many spanks does a naughty little girl get when she plays hooky from school, Debbie?" He used his most patronizing voice. "Three, Officer Wallace," she replied meekly. "Let's make it six. After all, it is for your own good!" Debbie winced as he turned her own words against her once again. The paddling was slow, with Jeff taking the time to scold Debbie for her "naughtiness" and to extract promises for "complete obedience" from the sobbing woman. "After all, this is hurting me more than it hurts you," " he said, unconvincingly, with a large grin on his face. As he finished up, the doors of the trade show burst open, and an eager crowd of law enforcement officials quickly filled the hall. He looked down at the blushing woman and smiled mischievously. "Can you examine her hooters when she's strapped over the bench that way?" "Thanks for reminding me, officer," the salesman replied. "I had almost forgotten." He reached over and skinned Debbie's t-shirt up to the top of her shoulders, exposing her breasts. She tried to resist this final humiliation, but, strapped down as she was, there was little she could do. "This cow is ready for milking!" Jeff laughed, reaching down to pull on one of Debbie's large nipples. "MOO! MOO! MOO! MOO!" He chuckled as he rhythmically "milked" her tits. The salesman laughed. "Yes, she's 'udderly' exposed, all right!" By now a large line had formed in front of the booth. "What are they lining up for?" Debbie wondered. She tried not to think about it and found herself staring unhappily at the shamefully wet gloves in the wastebasket by her head. Why did they need such a big trashcan for such tiny gloves? It was only then that she turned her head and noticed that the salesman had brought back box after box of gloves and lubricant, enough to search an army of women.... Or one woman by an army of men. Suddenly the long line of people made sense, and Debbie felt her throat go dry. Obviously the salesman was expecting a busy day at the booth. The salesman was still desperate to make a sale, and, when Jeff asked if he could come back later, the man offered him 10 VIP passes that would allow him and his "fellow law enforcement officers" to go right to the front of the line, with no waiting. Jeff accepted the passes with a smile, and then he winked at the blushing Debbie. She didn't know what he was up to, but she knew it didn't bode well for her. The salesman waved the first customer forward and urged him to "snap on a glove." It would take the salesman a few minutes to get the video equipment attached to the large monitors over the booth, but the audio still worked, and he switched on his microphone so that he could provide exciting "play-by-play" commentary as the first eager volunteer probed Debbie's genitals. Jeff walked happily back to the squad car. When he had come into the hall today, he had been a young boy without any real sense of purpose. But, as he strode confidently out of the hall, he was a man with a mission. He wanted to be a police officer, just like his dad. But most of all, he wanted to get back to school. Anyone over 18 would be allowed on the floor of the show just by paying the $5 admission fee. Debbie Johnson had made a lot of enemies over the years, and he knew that there were a lot of seniors -- and a lot of teachers, too -- who would pay handsomely for those VIP passes. And he could also sell those digital pictures! Crime might not pay for the criminals, or for little truants like Debbie, but it was going to pay very well for this particular member of the law enforcement community. He smiled. StripCo might be a cheesy company, but he was confident that each of the 10 lucky VIP pass-holders would want a COMPLETE demonstration of its products. Edited by C. Lakewood