DOUGHNUTS 

                             by 

                           Joe Doe


A POLICEMAN'S WIFE WITH STRIP SEARCH FANTASIES, THE POLICEMAN'S 
VENGEFUL LESBIAN PARTNER, A BRAND NEW MEDICAL EXAM TABLE, A 
ONE-WAY MIRROR, AND A LARGE ASSORTMENT OF TEMPTING PASTRIES FORM 
THE CORE OF THIS EPIC TALE.  WHAT MORE COULD ANY POLICEMAN ASK FOR?  



Part 1 

I've always had a thing for men in uniform, which probably explains 
why I married a cop.  Even though we've been married two years, 
just the sight of Tom wearing his blue uniform, badge, gun, and 
cuffs still sends a tiny thrill through me. 

A rural flood caused him and his partner to be transferred to an 
outlying part of the state for a few weeks.  The water receded 
quickly, but they still kept the extra police on duty during the 
cleanup phase.   

As soon as it was safe, I decided to join Tom, partially because 
I missed him and partially because I was jealous.  The Sheriff of 
the rural county had a predilection for strip-searching beautiful 
women, and it seemed that my horny husband had the opportunity 
to witness a number of these searches through the one-way glass 
at the station. 

Tom's detailed descriptions of the women's humiliating ordeals 
left me both jealous and aroused.  He had become particularly 
excited as he described a lovely female TV reporter who made 
the multiple mistakes of forgetting her ID and making an 
unfavorable remark about the Sheriff during one of her broadcasts.   

The beautiful young journalist had blushed crimson when the matron 
ordered her up onto the exam table. 

Tom and I enjoyed playing "bad cop" in the bedroom, but he had 
always resisted my requests to watch (or experience!) a search 
down at his station, since all of the officers there knew I was 
his wife. 

But no one knew me in this rural town; I'd be safely anonymous.  I 
quickly packed my bags.  The trip would allow me to monitor my 
husband's roving eye...and make my most erotic fantasy a reality. 

The natural disaster had provided the Sheriff with a "flood" of 
innocent women to victimize.  Female doctors, journalists, and 
relief workers were routinely "processed" for arcane violations of 
local laws or "suspicion of looting."  Successful and prosperous 
local women whom the Sheriff had been ogling for years could now 
be imprisoned as "vagrants" or "indigents." 

In my hometown, I was the wife of a local policeman, and I was 
untouchable.  But in this hick, flooded burg, I was unknown, 
helpless, and alone. 

I would be the perfect victim.... 

Although female officers conducted the searches themselves, male 
officers observed through the one-way mirror, and a party-like 
atmosphere prevailed on the other side of the glass.  The idea of 
countless beefy, horny male officers watching my strip search 
bothered Tom....   

But it thrilled me to the core! 

Tom still refused, so an unexpected, deep frost enveloped our hotel 
room.  I could tell the poor dear was in agony, particularly since 
I had started wearing my sexiest clothes to torment him. 

It never took me more than a few days to break Tom's spirit, 
and although the procedure was miserable for him, the tease 
was delightful for me...particularly since I always ended up 
with exactly what I wanted. 

The sun hadn't even come up yet when he left for work that morning. 
I had gotten up early as well, largely so I could prance around our 
hotel room dressed in my cutest denim short-shorts and tube top.  

His face was a mask of torment when I turned on the radio and 
began to gyrate to the music.... 

He was close to the breaking point when he left for work, and, when 
there was a knock on the door a few minutes later, I thought he had 
returned on his knees, prepared to do my bidding. 

I was surprised to find that his partner, Maxine, had come to see 
me.  Tom had had several female partners before Maxine, and I had 
hated each and every one of them.  I had always engineered some way 
for him to get a new partner, even resorting to the icy bedroom 
treatment when necessary. 

Maxine was a ridiculously butch lesbian, and I had no concerns 
whatsoever about HER riding around in a car all day with my 
husband.  She was tall and thin, with a boyish figure and an 
angular face.  And she kept enough grease in her short black hair 
to fuel her squad car.  But she was not unattractive, really, if 
you were into that sort of thing, which I decidedly was not. 

Still, Maxine served my purposes, at least for now, and I forced a 
smile. 

"Tom said you were up, Debbie, and I was wondering if you could 
help me out with a little errand," she said.  "You don't need to 
change...it'll only take a second.  I'd really appreciate it...and 
you do owe me one for covering for Tom so he could go to your 
family picnic."  

"We'll be even then," I said, tersely, as I slipped on my sandals, 
grabbed my purse, and headed out the door towards her squad car.  
I wasn't in the habit of doing favors for my husband's partners, 
and I didn't care much for Maxine.  But I was bored, and if I could 
wipe the ledger clean quickly, why not? 

Although they were partners, Tom was assigned to patrol duty, and 
Maxine was in charge of utilizing the Federal disaster relief money 
for various "emergency" improvements at the police station.  They 
had closed the lunchroom to paint it this morning, and Maxine had 
decided to make up for the inconvenience by picking up a special 
selection of doughnuts and pastries for the officers to munch on. 

My vital duty for the morning was to help her with the doughnuts.  
Who said that being the wife of a cop wasn't exciting? 

"We've just converted one of the interrogation rooms into a 
quasi-breakroom," Maxine explained as we drove to the bakery.  
"I moved the time clock, coffee, and lunch tables in there.  
It's pretty comfortable, but it does mean that any young lady 
we pick up for a strip search is going to have a slightly 
larger audience than usual." 

I had been bored out of mind as Maxine had described her 
redecorating duties, but her last sentence aroused my 
interest.  "What do you mean by 'larger audience'?" 

"The temporary lunch room has a huge picture window in it.  The 
one-way mirror gives a perfect view of the room where we do the 
strip-searches."  She chuckled.  "Of course, that means that 
there'll be quite a bit of traffic through that room today, 
especially with the doughnuts and the time clock in there." 

"I moved the soda machine into the second observation room; that 
room also has a one way mirror that shows the exam room, although 
the mirror is on the opposite wall," Maxine explained.  "We get 
a lot of traffic by the vending machines too, so we'll have the 
searches covered from every angle.  Every time a cop buys a soda, 
he'll be looking directly into some naked girl's tearful eyes. 

"I sure do feel sorry for whatever little honey gets searched 
today," she added, giving me a wink. 

In the past, when Maxine had dropped Tom off from work, I was 
usually wearing my crisp professional clothes while she was 
dressed in her grungy sweats.  It was a silly female thing, 
but I had secretly delighted in the difference: my expensive 
and tastefully tailored clothes identified me as an accomplished 
professional, while her tacky sweats marked her as an off-duty, 
blue collar, working stiff. 

But, as she continued to carefully describe the "perfect view" 
the windows offered, I became conscious of the difference in our 
current attire.  Maxine was wearing a natty police uniform: long 
blue pants, polished black shoes, starched blue shirt, shiny badge.... 

And I was wearing nothing but a tube top, lacy white panties, 
extremely short cutoffs, and sandals.  I didn't even have my 
purse, since she had insisted that some obscure regulation 
required her to lock it in the trunk of the squad car.   

The contrast between her crisp professional look and my cheap, 
trashy attire was striking.  I became aware of Maxine's piercing 
black eyes roving up and down my body as we talked, and I began 
to regret my choice of clothing. 

"The air conditioning is starting to make your nipples hard," she 
observed, slyly. 

I looked down in horror at my breasts and quickly reached for the 
dash to turn down the fan.  "It is getting a little cool in 
here...." 

Maxine slapped my hand away.  "Please keep your hands off the 
controls, Miss," she said, crisply.  "It's against the law for 
unauthorized personnel to touch the controls in a squad car." 

"Jeez, I was just going to adjust the air; it's freezing in here," 
I countered.    

"Don't touch the air again," she replied, curtly.  "You don't want 
me to have to run you in, do you?"  She smiled as she ran her eyes 
appreciatively up my bare legs.  "Especially not today!" she added. 

She smiled as she stared directly at my pointy nipples.  "Besides, 
it's just starting to get comfortable in here."  

I usually treated Maxine with thinly veiled contempt, but I could 
feel the tables were already turning.

From then on, our "conversation" became Maxine's monologue. 

"Maybe if you didn't run around half naked, you wouldn't be cold," 
she added, sarcastically, as she turned the air conditioning on 
full blast and redirected the nozzles directly at my chest. 

I immediately folded my arms over my breasts, but Maxine would not 
be deterred.  "It's unsafe to sit that way; what if the airbag 
goes off?" she asked, rhetorically.  "Put your hands down at your 
sides -- and keep them there -- or I'll run you in for violating 
police car safety regulations." 

I didn't move or even look at her, but locked my folded arms into 
position.  

"I was hoping you would do that," she said.  "I won't actually be 
the one to search you, of course....  Bertha will do that.  She's 
kind of tubby and mean, but she loves bending pretty little 
cupcakes over for some of the old pat and poke.  I'm glad you're 
disobeying orders.  I always wondered whether or not you're a 
natural blonde.... 

"Now, do you want to put your hands down willingly, or should I 
stop the car and cuff them behind you?" 

Reluctantly, I put my arms down at my sides and let the cold air 
gush over my tube top, with predictable results.  

"You have cute hooters, Debbie," Maxine taunted.  "Not too big, 
but nicely shaped...just the way I like them.  I love the way your 
nipples have gotten big and stiff and are pushing through your tube 
top.  It makes you look kind of sexy...kind of slutty.  And that 
suits you a lot better than those candy-ass business clothes you 
like to wear. 

"You're a cute piece of tail, and Tom's the nicest partner I've 
ever had," she continued.  "It's a pity you're such a frosty bitch. 
I'm well aware how your snatch turns to ice when you don't get your 
own way, Princess.  I can tell whenever it happens...poor Tom 
practically comes out of his skin.  

"Did you put on that outfit just to prick-tease my partner, bitch?" 
she asked, coldly, then smiled.  "That little number you're wearing 
certainly turns ME on!  You should be careful, Princess.  Sometimes 
little prick-teasers get what they deserve.  Tom told me about your 
strip-search fantasies, you know.  "He didn't want to strip you 
naked in front of all those men...but I think it's an interesting 
idea.... 

"I'm going to ask you to help me pick out the doughnuts for the 
breakroom, Debbie.  I'm sure if we pick the right kind of treats, 
the entire department will line up.  Of course, while they're 
munching their doughnuts, they'll probably sneak a peak at the 
poor, innocent girl that Bertha is searching....   

"Yep, you definitely want to be a good girl today, Debbie....  I'd 
HATE to have to turn you over to Bertha. 

"I know the guys in the bakery will appreciate your outfit," she 
added, as she pulled up in front of the shop.  "Remember to keep 
your arms down at your sides when we go in, or I'll cuff you.  The 
boys gave me a deal on the pastries, and I'm going to have you give 
them a little show in return...." 

My nipples were practically cutting through my tube top, and I 
hated the way Maxine paraded me in front of the two pimply-faced 
geeks behind the counter in exchange for free doughnuts.  I didn't 
want to stand underneath the huge air conditioning vent with my 
hands at my sides, but, when Maxine glared at me and playfully 
jingled her cuffs, I knew I had no choice.

I was soon shifting my weight from foot to foot to try to stay 
warm, which caused my ridiculously pointy breasts to bounce and 
jiggle under my tube top.  The two boys were barely able to take 
their eyes off my chest long enough to box up the doughnuts. 

Maxine took her time with her long and varied selection, 
incessantly bating me with comments about how the luscious 
morsels would "pack the room."   

"Lots of doughnuts, now, boys.  Cops LOVE doughnuts," she said.  
"Get a couple of big fat chocolate ones for that porker, Evans. 

"A big basket of doughnut holes, too.  Some of the younger guys 
like to eat lighter.  And a few sticky buns and cinnamon rolls.  
We want to make sure there's something for everybody. 

"Give me a couple of strawberry ones, too; those are the Sheriff's 
favorite.  And half a dozen jelly doughnuts.  The roly-poly cops 
dote on those. 

"We better get some bagels for the guys from upstate and some corn 
muffins for the downstate guys.  And those two black cops like the 
sugar twists; let's get a few of those.  The more, the merrier! 

"Those muffins smell heavenly; I'll take a dozen of those," Maxine 
said, her voice oozing delight.  "I'll heat them up in the toaster 
oven, and the aroma will fill the station.  The cops'll be drawn 
like bees to honey," she chuckled as she gave me a playful wink. 

Tom had told me that they had imported dozens of cops into this 
jerkwater town to help with the flood chaos, but I hadn't fully 
comprehended just how many policemen were involved.  Maxine 
enjoyed watching me squirm helplessly as the doughnut order 
got larger...and larger...and larger. 

I'd be stripping for an army!

			********** 

IN PART TWO, DEBBIE LIKES TEASING GAMES, BUT NOW MAXINE IS WRITING 
THE RULES.  WILL DEBBIE PREVAIL, OR WILL THE PASTRY ASSORTMENT 
INCLUDE A HOT, WET JUICY TART?   MORE TO COME!

		******************************


Part 2

THE PAS DE DEUX BETWEEN DEBBIE AND MAXINE CONTINUES...WITH SOME 
ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS MAKING THEIR APPEARANCE, FROM TIME TO TIME.


At last, Maxine was finished picking out snacks, and we took 
our leave of the bakery clerks.  I could tell the boys were 
disappointed at the way the almost topless stack of boxes 
covered my chest as Maxine marched me back out to the cruiser.  
She sat the boxes on the front seat so they wouldn't spill.   

I rode in the back of the car, behind the chicken wire screen. 

The rear seat door locks and windows were controlled from the front 
seat.  As Maxine SNAPPED the door locks into place, I once again 
became acutely aware of my purse resting comfortably in the trunk 
of the cruiser. 

Without my purse, I was penniless, and I had no way of proving who 
I was. 

I had expected to go to the station, and I was surprised when 
we drove to a greasy spoon diner on the outskirts of town.   It 
was still dark outside, and there were only a few trucks in the 
lot, but Maxine turned off the headlights and pulled in behind 
the restaurant so no one would see us.  

"Take off your sandals, put them on the floor of the car, and get 
out," she said, curtly.   

"Maxine, I don't understand what...." 

"Do as I say, or I'll run your ass in right now!" she barked. 

I obediently surrendered my shoes and stepped out of the vehicle. 

At her command, I closed the car door. 

I swallowed as I heard her CLICK the lock shut.  

She opened her window just a crack and beckoned me closer.  I 
gingerly shuffled my bare feet across the gravel to hear her 
directions. 

"Since you like to play games with Tom, I'm going to play a game 
with you.  This game's called, 'Keep-Your-Teasing-Ass-Out-Of-Jail.' 
I'm going to leave you here at the diner, alone, with no shoes, no 
money, and no ID.  The goal of the game is to try to get back to 
the hotel without getting that sweet little ass of yours hauled 
down to the station for a strip search in front of a million cops.  
 
"If you win, you get to go home.  If I win, then the cops will get 
a stage show along with their doughnuts."    

"Tom is out on patrol until noon, so he won't be able to help you.  
Of course, you could tell the arresting officer that you're a cop's 
wife, but then he's going to want to know what you're doing 
barefoot in the middle of nowhere with no ID.  I imagine Tom is 
going to be pretty pissed at the way you let your sexual fantasies 
embarrass him in front of his fellow officers.  That's the very 
thing he's been desperately trying to avoid, isn't it?" 

Maxine was right.  No matter what happened, I couldn't embarrass 
Tom by letting anyone know who I was.  He would never forgive me.  

"I'm taking your sandals, so you can't just walk back to your 
hotel," she said.  "If you want to get out of this, you're going 
to have to convince someone to help you.  You're always telling 
everyone what a brilliant business strategist and negotiator you 
are, so I'm sure this won't be much of a problem for you."  

She smiled tightly.  "And with that outfit you're wearing, you'll 
surely be able to get one of the truckers to help you.  I think the 
standard rate is $20 for a suck, and they sell rubbers in the men's 
room," she chuckled.  "'Course, if you screw up and offend someone, 
there'll be a policeman along sooner or later who'll be happy to 
lend a hand...." 

I started to plead with her to at least leave me with my shoes and 
purse, but she just laughed and rolled up the window.  I looked on 
in helpless frustration as the squad car pulled away and slowly 
receded into the distance. 

The gravel was sharp, and it took forever to tiptoe to the front 
door.  I saw the phone on the wall by the restrooms, and I hoped 
to slip in without anyone noticing me.  But the tiny, tinkling 
bell on the door gave me away. 

The restaurant was empty except for four truckers and a waitress 
who was also serving as the fry cook.  I was once again acutely 
conscious of my skimpy attire as I felt the truckers' eyes wander 
freely up and down my body.  

The fat, 50ish waitress was less impressed.  "No shoes, no 
service," she said, tersely.  "Whatever you're selling, take 
it somewhere else." 

"I just need to use the phone...," I mumbled as I walked quickly 
towards the back of the diner. 

"Not without shoes you don't," the waitress barked.  I ignored her 
and made a beeline for the phone.  There was no way I was going to 
be able to walk home barefoot, and I needed to get some help. 

I picked up the telephone and started to make a collect call.  "No, 
operator, I don't have any money....  I want to make a collect 
call.  I don't have my phone card or credit card number either.   
I just need to call my sister collect....  Yes, I know what time 
it is...." 

"Need some money, honey?" a voice behind me said.  I turned and 
found myself staring at an obese, unshaved trucker with a 
toothpick in his mouth.  I looked at him in confusion as he took 
a small packet out of his pocket and set it down on the top of 
the payphone.

It was a Trojan condom wrapped in a $20 bill.... 

I stared at him in disbelief.  I was a successful professional 
woman, but this greasy redneck thought I was a truck stop whore. 

I looked down at the stiff tent in his pants.  I shuddered as I 
imagined myself kneeling in his cab, with his greasy fingers 
running through my hair.... 

I started to explain the mistake, but the tinkling bell on the 
front door interrupted me.  The trucker immediately returned to 
his seat as the Sheriff ambled to the counter and ordered his 
coffee. 

The waitress pointed me out to the Sheriff and started whispering.  
I quickly picked up the phone and tried to dial the operator again.  
I knew I didn't have much time. 

"Please operator, I need to make a collect phone call right away, 
I said as the Sheriff strode towards me.  "I don't have time for 
questions.  Just make the damn call!" 

"May I see some identification, Miss?" the Sheriff asked.   

I hung up the phone.  "Um...I don't have any, Sheriff," I said, 
meekly.  "I...um...lost my purse, and I don't have any money, 
either."   

The Sheriff smiled and picked up the condom wrapped in the twenty.  
"It looks like you were about to EARN some money, sweet stuff."  

He shook his head.

"Did you lose your shoes and your hearing too?  The waitress said 
you ignored her when she told you shoes were required." 

The truckers enjoyed ogling my stiff nipples and jiggling breasts 
as the Sheriff led me out to the squad car with my hands cuffed 
tightly behind my back.  As I stared out the window of the squad 
car, I could see the bitchy waitress smiling at me like she had 
just won the lottery.  Old and fat was defeating young and sexy, 
and the old biddy loved every minute of it. 

At the station I was booked for loitering, trespassing, violations 
of the public health code, vagrancy, and soliciting.  I felt dizzy 
and disoriented as I watched them fill out the forms.  It was true 
that my clothes made me look younger, but I was 25 years old.  Did 
they really think I was a runaway, turning tricks to get her next 
hot meal?   

A few hours before I had been a policeman's wife and a successful 
professional.  Now I was a fingerprinted, photographed, police 
certified whore waiting patiently on the bench with her hands 
cuffed behind her back. 

My one consolation was that it was still so early in the morning 
that the station was practically deserted.  However, every man or 
woman who did pass my bench ran their eyes up my bare legs and over 
my braless chest.  Some of the spectators smiled appreciatively; 
others sneered contemptuously. 

After a few minutes, the police brought in a smelly, homeless drunk 
who had been arrested for looting and sat him on the bench next to 
me. 

As I watched the two male officers gingerly help him onto the 
bench, I reflected on the sexism of law enforcement in America.  
My only crime was to try to make a telephone call, and I had been 
arrested, fingerprinted, photographed, cuffed, and groped.   

But the sleazy old drunk who had committed a felony hadn't even 
been cuffed.  Apparently the extra attention I was receiving was 
reserved for attractive young females. 

And the knowing smiles and lascivious smirks from the passing 
officers made it clear that my processing was just beginning. 

The smelly drunk immediately came to attention when he saw me 
sitting next to him.  "How about a little love, honey?" he said, 
reaching for my breasts.   

I tried to wiggle him off me, but he was larger, and he managed to 
cop a pretty good feel before the chuckling police officers finally 
put down their doughnuts and pulled him to his cell. 

I was so beaten, frightened, and alone that I was actually relieved 
to see Maxine.  

"How's tricks, honey?" she asked, sarcastically. 

I begged her to let me go, but she just smiled.  "Roll call isn't 
for another 45 minutes, so I thought I'd give you a little tour."

Maxine led me into the large break room.  It was filled with the 
smell of freshly brewed coffee and the most impressive array of 
breakfast pastries I had ever seen.  But my eyes were fixed on the 
huge picture window built into the wall. 

"Quite a view isn't it?" she said.  "We won't search you until 
after roll call, but we'll strip you down butt naked and leave 
you there in the room for everyone to enjoy as they report in.  
We want to give the fellas a memorable show with their doughnuts." 

My mouth felt dry, and I asked her for a glass of water. 

She smiled.  "How about a doughnut hole first?" she asked.  
"Powdered sugar is MY favorite."  She jerked the tiny round 
doughnut in the air just above my head and smiled mischievously.  
"Now get up your toes like a good little monkey, and Officer 
Maxine will give you your treat." 

I glared at her, but she continued to smile back.  "Of course, if 
you'd rather skip the treat and your glass of water, I can just 
take you next door, and we'll start your search...." 

I obediently got up tiptoes as she dangled the tiny pastry above my 
mouth.  She made me jump to nip it out of her hand.... 

She laughed as I munched on the doughnut hole and then walked over 
to the water cooler and filled a paper cup.  "How does it feel to 
be teased, Debbie?" she asked.  "You enjoy teasing that poor 
husband of yours until he's half-crazy.  But, can you take it 
as well as you dish it out?" 

She took a sip of the water and smiled.  "I hate the way powdered 
sugar sticks to the roof of your mouth.  Don't you?  And if you're 
cotton-mouthed to begin with, and stressed out, and scared, it must 
just be agonizing.  A drink of water would be nice right now, 
wouldn't it?"  She took another sip, and then she dropped the 
paper cup into the trash.  

"I'll let Bertha shuck you down," she said as I stared at the paper 
cup in the trash.  "I'll stay in here...and watch."  She slipped 
her tongue into my ear as she playfully fondled my bottom through 
my shorts.  "I begged Tom to tell me whether or not you were a real 
blonde, but he wouldn't," she teased.  "Now I'll get to see for 
myself." 

Maxine led me out of the observation room and into the examination 
room.  "All of this federal money has really been a blessing," she 
said.  "We just got ourselves a real exam table yesterday.  The 
maintenance guy hasn't even had a chance to attach the stirrups 
yet."  She pointed to the medical exam table that was placed 
carefully in front of the one-way glass.  "You'll be the first 
girl to break in our new equipment.  What an HONOR!"  

As I looked at the cold steel exam table and then back at the 
mirror, honor was the last thing I felt. 

"The video system was hooked up yesterday," she observed, pointing 
to the two video cameras that were mounted in the walls and pointed 
directly at the exam table.  Maxine fondled my bottom as she 
whispered in my ear, "We're going to make you a movie star, 
Goldilocks." 

"The money actually came from the Women's Leadership Council, and 
it was targeted to help provide female flood victims with disaster 
relief," she went on.  "The Sheriff decided to spend the money on 
a new exam table, a video system, and a zillion rubber gloves.  But 
don't worry, they never search guys; all of the new equipment is 
strictly for women.  Like most of the guys around here, the 
Sheriff's really quite a card, isn't he?"  

I flinched as I recalled the way the Sheriff had groped my breasts 
and fanny as I had wiggled helplessly in my handcuffs.  The fat old 
lecher had taken his time, enjoying a really good feel. 

"He's a riot," I replied.  "He should be on television." 

"He likes you too, jail bird," she teased.  "He made a point that 
I should call him over to watch your search.  Speaking of which, I 
had better get back to the observation room; I need to make sure no 
one eats all of the strawberry doughnuts.  They're his favorites." 

After the door locked shut behind her, I took a look around the 
examination room.  The stainless steel exam table looked similar 
to what you would see in a doctor's office, although it definitely 
looked less plush and comfortable -- especially when I noticed the 
brown leather restraining straps hanging from the side.   

The front of the exam table faced one mirrored wall; the rear faced 
another mirrored wall.  If a girl knelt on all fours, the watching 
police officers would be able to see both her posterior in front of 
them and her face in the mirror.    

I nervously strained against my handcuffs as I recalled Tom 
describing the humiliated look on the face of the pretty young 
newscaster as Bertha slowly drove her greasy gloved finger home....  

I looked at the small table in the corner.  There was a bottle of 
rubbing alcohol and an enormous jar of generic lubricant with a 
"Sam's Club" price sticker on the side.   

Yesterday I had been a respected, esteemed professional.  Soon I 
would be just another dab of goo on Bertha's beefy finger. 

Next to the jar was a huge box that looked like a tissue box, only 
much, much bigger.  As I drew closer, I read the label on the side: 

		SURGICAL GLOVES: QTY 2,000 

The Sheriff obviously understood the concepts behind mass 
production and quantities of scale. 

As I drew closer to the box, I noticed something protruding from 
the top of the box.  At first I thought it was a tissue, but then 
I realized it was part of a rubber glove. 

I shuddered.  I was looking at the very glove that would be used 
to search me. 

The hypnotic trance of the menacing glove was broken by the sound 
of the opening door.  Although the fat, butch police officer didn't 
bother to introduce herself, I knew I was in the presence of 
Bertha. 

			**********

IN PART THREE, WE FINALLY GET DOWN TO BUSINESS, AS BERTHA DECIDES 
TO TEST THE NEW STIRRUPS, AND THE SMELL OF THE BLUEBERRY MUFFINS 
DRAWS THE OFFICERS TO ROLL CALL....

		******************************


Part 3

DEBBIE'S STRIP SEARCH FANTASIES ARE FULFILLED...IN SPADES. 


Bertha ignored me as she ushered an elderly black man in a 
janitor's jump suit toward the exam table.  "This is it; I 
want you to screw on the stirrups at an angle, Charlie, so 
the little sluts are spread out nice and wide."   

"What are you looking at, jail bird?" Bertha said sharply as she 
noticed me in the corner.  Don't worry, pumpkin, I'll get to you 
in a minute."

The janitor gave me a knowing smile as he carefully unpacked the 
steel stirrups from a small cardboard box and took the screwdriver 
out of his tool chest. 

Bertha walked over and unlocked my handcuffs.  "Don't just stand 
there catching flies, sweet stuff.  Hold the stirrups against the 
table so Charlie can screw them in."    

I felt like I was digging my own grave as I took the cold metal 
stirrup from the grinning janitor and moved it into position 
against the table.  The metal felt cold, and I felt a chill 
as I imagined my dainty bare feet wiggling helplessly in the 
pitiless stirrups as Bertha slipped on her rubber glove.... 

A sharp SLAP!  Across my posterior returned me to the moment.  
"Move it so that it's higher and points more towards the wall," 
Bertha barked.  "I want you little whores spread WIDE!" 

I adjusted the stirrup until she was happy.  Charlie gave me a 
playful little wink as he used his electric drill to effortlessly 
fix the stirrup into place.   

As Charlie knelt down in front of me and prepared to screw the 
second stirrup into position, he playfully ran his finger across 
the top of my bare foot and across my toes.  "Don't worry, honey.  
Old Charlie'll screw these in extra tight, so you'll be able to 
wiggle your cute little toes and still keep your tootsies in 
position." 

He winked again as he drilled the final screw into place. 

"Thanks for your help, Charlie," Bertha said, as she opened the 
door and prepared to escort him out.  "Help yourself to a doughnut; 
the jelly ones are just delicious." 

"Maybe a little later...," he said.  I felt uncomfortable as the 
old black man's eyes ran slowly over my feet and up my bare legs. 

"Maybe I should stay and help you test out these new stirrups," 
Charlie offered, his eyes never leaving my body.  "We can't be 
sure that I got them in the right position...until we see them 
in use...." 

My jaw literally dropped.  He was old enough to be my grandfather.  
It was bad enough to have to stand there and let the dirty old man 
ogle me while he fastened the stirrups to the exam table.  But now 
she couldn't actually expect me to strip down NAKED...right in 
front of him. 

I turned to her with horrified, pleading eyes.   

She turned to Charlie.  "We're not going to search her until after 
roll call," she said.  "Maxine is having some senior boys come in 
from the local high school as part of a career day thing, and she 
made me promise not to search Miss America until then." 

I was both relieved and horrified.  I was glad that Charlie's plot 
to strip me naked was foiled, but I couldn't believe what I had 
just heard.  Bertha was going to search me in front of a bunch of 
HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS." 

But her next comment dashed the tiny glimmer of relief I felt at not 
having to strip in front of the leering black janitor.  "We'll do 
the cavity search later, but there's no reason we can't strip her 
down right now and test the stirrups."  Bertha looked at me and 
smiled.  "After all, it's not like she's wearing a lot."   

"You can say that again," Charlie replied.  "Any girl dressed like 
that in MY day would have her bare backside walloped good."  From 
the tone in his voice and the look in his eye, I could tell the 
elderly Negro would be happy to volunteer for the job. 

"Take off your top, Barbie doll," Bertha drawled.  "Let's see those 
hooters." 

"I saw her out on the bench, with her nipples practically busting 
through the front of that top," Charlie said.  "Little strumpet 
didn't even try to cover up or nothing." 

I hadn't covered myself because my hands had been cuffed behind 
my back, but I knew my audience wasn't interested in logic.  As 
an elderly black man, Charlie had felt the sting of racism his 
entire life, and I could tell that the idea of a pretty white 
girl stripping naked for his entertainment tickled him.  The 
lecherous old black man would relish every moment of my shame 
and degradation.

I looked up at the cameras on the ceiling.  The blinking red lights 
told me that Maxine was recording. 

I nervously bit my lip as I turned my back and slowly pulled my 
top up over my head. 

"Turn around and place your hands on top of your head," Bertha 
said, crisply, as she snatched my top away.  "Don't be shy!" 

I felt shy indeed as I laced my fingers together and slowly turned. 

"Nice size hooters, for a white girl," Charlie said, appraisingly.  
"I could see how pointy they were when you were sitting out on the 
bench, but I didn't know your nipples were so pink.  Those are 
real corn-fed dairies, white girl." 

"The best is yet to come," Bertha said.  "Don't just stand there, 
Barbie.  DROP YOUR DRAWERS!" 

I undid the snap of my jeans and slowly unzipped.  They were tight, 
and my breasts jiggled as I squirmed them off my hips in front of 
my grinning captors. 

I handed my pants to Bertha, and instinctively covered the front of 
my lacy white panties with my hands.   

"The panties are next, white girl," Charlie said.  "Be a good 
little piece of cracker trash, and slip those nice-WHITE-panties 
down your nice-WHITE-thighs...." 

I looked pleadingly at Bertha.  Surely she wouldn't make me 
surrender my final shred of dignity in front of a Negro janitor.

Would she? 

"You heard the man, Blondie," she said, coldly.  "Those soft, silky 
panties are mighty pretty, but I'm afraid Charlie wants 'em.  Hand 
'em over to him." 

I swallowed hard.  I imagined Maxine standing on the other side of 
the glass, savoring my humiliating striptease.  Maxine said she'd 
always wondered if I was a natural blonde.   

She was about to see for herself.... 

Time froze as I slowly stripped off my panties and obediently 
handed them over to the grinning janitor.  Charlie winked at me 
as he fingered the wet crotch.   I blushed as he held the lacy 
garment up to his nose and savored my aroma.  

"Sure does smell sweet!" he said, enthusiastically.  "That's Grade 
A honey-pie.  And look at all that soft yellow peach fuzz." 

"Well, it's time to take a look at the pie's soft, moist, gooey 
center," Maxine chortled.  "Why don't you help our little blushing 
vixen up into the stirrups, Charlie, so we can test them out.  It's 
time for the little cowgirl to put her feet into the stirrups and 
break in our new table." 

Charlie took his time "helping" me onto the table.  At Bertha's 
suggestion, he "adjusted" the stirrups until I was spread out like 
a butterfly.  Of course, he insisted that I hadn't "scooted down" 
far enough, which gave him an excuse slip his hands under my bottom 
and playfully drag me closer to the end of the table.  During this 
process, his index finger "accidentally" slipped into my soaking 
wet blonde pussy.... 

It took almost a full 10 minutes of shameful probings and 
manipulations before Bertha was satisfied that the stirrups 
were configured correctly and the exam table was "properly" 
situated in front of the mirror.   

They left me naked and on all fours with my bare fanny in the air.  
I now had no ID, no money, no clothing, and no chance of escape. 

I was still on all fours when Maxine entered the room. 

"My goodness, Debbie...what happened to all of your CLOTHES?" she 
said, feigning surprise.  "The policemen are just starting to 
arrive for roll call, and you're BUCK NAKED!  They'll see 
EVERYTHING!" 

Maxine walked a slow circle around the exam table, appraising me 
like an animal at the county fair.  "You ARE a hot little number, 
aren't you?" she taunted.  "I always thought you were cute, but 
now that I FINALLY got you out of your prissy business suit and 
up on the exam table where you belong, I can see I underestimated 
your charms."   

Maxine put her finger on my foot and began to slowly, teasingly run 
it up my leg.  "You keep yourself in good shape.  That's good, 
Debbie; the boys are going to like that.  Taut calf muscles, 
shapely thighs, a tight little bottom...a flat little tummy...and 
the cutest little pair of hooters I've ever seen." 

Maxine smiled and licked her lips as she playfully caressed my 
crotch.  "You know, Tom and I have always shared the same taste 
in women." 

I looked up into her cold, smiling eyes as she teasingly ran her 
finger between my legs.  She may have been a woman, but she was 
looking at me as if she were a man.

"I adjusted the air conditioning to keep those nipples of yours 
nice and pointy.  With the way those little udders are hanging 
down, it looks like you are ready for milking.  Maybe Charlie can 
come back with a tin bucket, and we'll get the fellas some cream 
for their coffee. 

"And, speaking of coffee, you'll be pleased to know that the coffee 
is hot and delicious," she said, pleasantly, as if discussing 
beverages at the church social.  "They're brewing right on the 
other side of the glass, and, as soon as the officers arrive, 
they'll be filing into the room for a nice, hot, steamy cup of 
Joe." 

Maxine took a plastic bag containing a wet rag out of her pocket.  
"I'm going to wipe down the bottoms of your feet," she said.  "I 
want you to look your best for your adoring public.  Most of the 
guys like that fresh-faced country girl persona, and it looks like 
you've been walking barefoot through the trailer park all morning." 

My toes scrunched up as Maxine wiped my soles with the cold rag, 
but a sharp slap across my bare fanny convinced me to let my foot 
go slack as she merrily wiped me down.  I wasn't used to walking 
around town barefoot, and my feet were sore and tender.  But the 
whistling policewoman didn't care, and she wiped down my tender 
soles as if she were scrubbing a rusty car. 

When she was done, she playfully patted my bottom and smiled.  
"That's better.  Now you look fresh as a daisy.   Little Miss 
Sweetness, with her bare fanny poking up in the air for all the 
policemen to see.  Although...I think they need to see even more." 

She took out her baton and forced it between my tightly clenched 
knees.  "I'm sorry, Debbie, but that innocent act of yours isn't 
going to play anymore.  You've been arrested for prostitution, and 
I expect you to spread your legs like a good little whore." 

"No, wider...WIDER!" she said, tapping my thighs with her baton.  
"A cheap little slut like you has no secrets from the police.  Show 
us your money-maker, you disgusting whore.  This is a CAVITY 
search. 

"Come on, Debbie -- show us what you're hiding," she taunted.  
"Don't be shy.  Yeah, that's much better.  I can even see your 
tight little blowhole."  She teasingly ran her nightstick down 
my back, into my ass crack, and over my anus.  "This is exactly 
the position a little slut like you should be in, Debbie: spread 
nice and wide, for everyone to see.   

"I expect you to keep your legs spread until Bertha comes back for 
your search.  We're going to have a ton of cops going through here 
to punch their time-cards in the next few minutes, and I want each 
one of them to see everything you've got.  Remember that these men 
are respected members of the law enforcement community, and you're 
just a powerless, shameless hooker.  You have no right to close 
your legs and deny them their morning's entertainment. 

"If you try to close your legs, I'll strap you down to the table," 
she threatened.  "Those stirrups can get pretty uncomfortable after 
a while, so I suggest you maintain your position, fish. 

"My, you ARE all nice and juicy, aren't you," she observed, as she 
slowly ran her fingers across the exposed lips of my sex.  "That's 
the wettest beaver I've ever encountered."  

She used her fingernail to slowly circle my exposed love button.  
"You love it, don't you, you little slut?  The stripping...the 
shame...the exposure.  You're really getting off on it.  Well, 
you're going to have the thrill of your life today, sweet cheeks, 
because every cop in the tri-state area is going to get up-close 
and personal with your hot little snatch." 

"It's too bad Tom can't see you like this." she said, wickedly.  
"He thinks you're just so sweet and innocent.  I wish he could 
see you for the shameless slut you are.  Of course, if he was 
here, he'd probably just try to rescue his poor, precious wife, 
so it's just as well.  After all, I wouldn't want you to miss 
out on your 'quality time' with Bertha. 

"Most of the cops will be out on patrol by the time your search 
starts, but you'll be pleased to know that I have arranged for 
some very special visitors.  A dozen fresh faced young students 
have arrived from our local high school as part of Career Day.  
They're all 18; I checked their IDs myself this morning...."  She 
ran her finger up my bare thigh.  "Which means that they'll get to 
see the real 'ins' and 'outs' of police work.   

"There are a few bonehead jocks in the group, but mostly it's just 
geeks from the computer club who wanted to see what a jail cell 
looks like.  They're going to be in for a surprise.  Most of those 
nerds have never seen a naked girl before.  They are really going 
to enjoy you.  I bet we get a dozen employment applications this 
morning, and ten times that many when they tell their friends.  
You'll be the best recruiting tool the department's ever had," she 
chuckled. 

"You poor thing," she mocked, as she ran her finger down my flank.  
"I know it's going to be simply dreadful -- spread out buck naked, 
with all those greedy teenage eyes examining every fold, every 
curve, every tiny drop of moisture.  I can't even imagine how 
humiliating it's going to be, to have to lie there, naked, in 
front of all of those horny teenagers, while Bertha runs her 
hands all over your body...caressing...poking...probing.... 

"I'd really love to stay and chat, but the other officers will be 
arriving soon, and I want to heat up those muffins.  There's 
nothing like the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and blueberry muffins 
in the morning."  Maxine smiled and playfully patted my bottom.  
"The aroma should draw them like flies," she chortled. 

I knelt helplessly on all fours and stared at the clock.  It was 
6:30 AM, and roll call was at 7:00.  Through the glass I could hear 
the first officers chatting casually as they walked through the 
front door of the station and headed toward the locker room. 

The cool breeze from the air conditioning was blowing between my 
widely splayed thighs, but I didn't dare close my legs.  I was 
hoping the cool air would dry me out, but, as I heard the steady 
stream of male and female voices entering station, I felt myself 
getting wetter and wetter. 

I shuddered as the enticing aroma of blueberry muffins and freshly 
brewed coffee flooded my nostrils.  I imagined Maxine chuckling in 
the next room as she arranged the tempting spread of breakfast 
treats. 

Of course, the "tempting spread" included me. 

"These sugar doughnuts are terrific, Maxine," a male officer 
enthused.  "I'm glad to see someone finally anted up to get 
some doughnuts around here." 

The sound of the man's voice shocked me; it sounded like he was 
in the room with me.  It took me a few seconds to realize that 
the examination and interrogation rooms were bugged, and I was 
listening to the cops in the next room through the speaker on 
the ceiling. 

Maxine had generously turned on the microphone so that I could 
listen to the cops chat casually as they munched on doughnuts...and 
ogled my naked body. 

"Who's the little bimbo in the exam room?" a female officer asked.   

"Nobody special....  Just some little truck stop hooker the Sheriff 
ran in this morning," Maxine replied, casually. 

"Why doesn't she close her legs?"  A female officer sounded a tad 
annoyed. 

"I told you she's a hooker," Maxine replied.  "She's just showing 
everyone that she's open for business."

"My, oh, my," yet another male voice said.  "That sure is one sweet 
little honey pot.  I'd like to get a piece of that....  So, are 
there any cinnamon doughnuts here?" 

"On the end," still another voice answered.  "Yeah, I wouldn't mind 
giving her a poke myself.  This coffee's hot, but she looks even 
hotter." 

"You can say that again!" a female voice said.  "I can see the 
juices dribbling down her thighs." 

"Yeah!  There's a little puddle on the table." 

"How disgusting!" 

"I think it's kind of hot." 

"Gen-u-ine sticky buns." 

I stared helplessly ahead at my reflection as the voices of dozens 
of police officers filled my ears.  I had always considered myself 
a lady, and my husband's brother officers had always treated me 
with deference and respect.  But now I blushed crimson as I heard 
the most delicate and private portion of my female anatomy referred 
to as my "gash," "slit," "crack," "pussy," "snatch," "beaver," 
"honey pot," "twat," and "cunt." 

I imagined them on the other side of the mirrors, ogling and 
jeering as they casually munched their breakfast.  They weren't 
naked; they were dressed in their neat blue uniforms.  I imagined 
their shiny handcuffs and gleaming badges, their polished shoes 
and polished black batons.   

The men and women on the other side of the glass were the epitome 
of crisp professionalism.... 

And I was nothing more than a helpless naked bimbo, spread out like 
a 100-peso hooker for their morning's entertainment.  

Occasionally I heard a can of soda fall in the room in front of me, 
and I knew that at that moment a police officer was standing no 
more than 3 feet in front of me.  I imagined the amused look on 
his face as he stared into my helpless, glazed eyes.... 

The descriptions of me burned in my ears: "bimbo," "whore," "slut," 
"cum-dump," "sleaze," "tramp," "floozy," and "puta." 

The endless chatter about the breakfast and my anatomy seemed to 
go on forever.  Every conversation was about pop tarts and pussy. 

Despite Maxine's orders to keep my head up so that the cops could 
see my face in mirror, I finally decided to stare down at the floor 
instead.  I couldn't stand to look at my face as the humiliating 
commentary singed my ears. 

"What's she in for?" another cop asked.  The voice was muffled, but 
strangely familiar. 

"She's just some runaway they caught hooking down at the diner.  
They're going let a bunch of those snotty-nosed little high school 
geeks watch Bertha give her a run through.  Why do you ask?  You've 
been staring at that cute little butt of hers ever since we came in 
here.  You said your wife's been stiffing you; maybe you want to 
take a quick tumble with HER instead? 

"Nah...she's just another whore," the other cop said, dismissively. 
"I was just looking at her because my wife has a little birthmark 
on her thigh that kind of looks like that."

My eyes flew open as I recognized my husband's voice.  It was Tom!  
My husband Tom was on the other side of the glass!  I WAS SAVED! 

"You'd better get to roll call if you want to get a good seat," 
Maxine interjected.  "Here's a fresh jelly doughnut and coffee 
for you." 

I craned my neck around and looked dead on at the glass.  Tom 
hadn't seen my face before because I was facing the floor, but 
I was certainly facing the glass now. 

But Maxine had been too quick; Tom loved jelly doughnuts, and the 
tasty treat had distracted him from the window display.    

Maxine was using a crummy JELLY DOUGHNUT to cut off my only escape 
route. 

"TOM, it's me!" I shrieked.  "You have to help me!  I don't belong 
here!  It's a mistake!" 

But Maxine had set the microphone so that it worked only one way, 
and my voice was drowned out in the chatter from the other cops.  
As I stared at the glass in desperation, I heard Tom say, "Thanks, 
Maxine.  I really LOVE the warm, gushy, cherry centers!"  

"The pleasure's all mine today, partner," Maxine said, truthfully.  
"I'll see you at roll call." 

Her goodbye was directed at Tom.  But I could tell the lilting, 
joyful tone in her voice was meant for me. 

I stared helplessly at the glass as Tom's voice slowly receded into 
the distance.  I ground my teeth in frustration as I listened to my 
husband RAVE about the wonders of the delicious jelly. 

I couldn't believe that Tom had sacrificed me for a lousy DOUGHNUT. 
How humiliating! 

After an eternity, all of the voices faded away, and I was left 
alone with my thoughts.  Once again I squirmed helplessly as the 
gentle breeze of the air conditioning continued to blow over the 
wetness between my legs. 

My respite ended with the sound of the opening door.  "We've 
decided to conclude today's tour with an interactive experience," 
Bertha was saying.  "Everyone understands the basic concept behind 
a cavity search, but there is nothing like a HANDS-ON experience." 

I stared over my shoulder in horror as a dozen 18-year-olds 
followed Bertha and Maxine into the room.  Everyone was smiling.  
Everyone was carrying a doughnut.  And each and every one of them 
was staring hungrily at my shamefully exposed crotch. 

The two boys from the doughnut shop were there, obviously pleased 
to finally see the juicy details they were forced to imagine during 
our first encounter. 

I looked over at the corner where Maxine was standing, arms folded, 
smiling like the cat that had just swallowed the canary.  I could 
tell she was enjoying this. 

"Timmy, if you could take a glove out of the box, we'll get 
started," Bertha said.  "I want each of you boys to put on a 
glove...." 

Timmy was the pimply-faced lout who had pumped gas into my Lexus 
when I had arrived in town a few days ago.  I had harshly warned 
the awkward teenager to be "careful with my car, geek." 

From the cruel look in Timmy's eye, I could tell that he remembered 
me, too.   

Timmy smiled at me, wiped doughnut debris off his chubby chin with 
his sleeve, and teasingly SNAPPED on the rubber glove....



Edited by C. Lakewood