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