TRICK OR TREAT

                          by 

                        Joe Doe


A COLLEGE PROFESSOR DRESSES AS A SLEAZY HOOKER FOR A HALLOWEEN 
PARTY, BUT HER NEW COSTUME AND A MIX-UP AT THE POLICE STATION 
CLIMAXES IN A HUMILIATING STRIP SEARCH AND A LONG NIGHT OF 
"TRICKS AND TREATS." 



Although my job as a university professor demands that I maintain a 
certain amount of decorum, that doesn't mean that I don't have an 
active sex life.  My husband and I often engage in "role play," and 
I've dressed myself up as everything from a cheerleader to a prison 
inmate.

When Jim received an invitation to a Halloween party about 3 hours 
from our house, I saw the perfect chance to cut loose.  Jim is a 
police officer, and he used to work on the vice squad, although I 
made him quit when we got married.  But I know that my hooker 
costume was one of Jim's favorites, and this was a perfect chance 
to make the fantasy come to life, if only for a night.

And so, when I finished my 1:00 PM class on October 31st, I 
immediately went to the beauty parlor and got my straight blonde 
hair frizzed out into an outrageous hairdo.  I then went home, 
discarded my sensible blue pants suit and pedantic persona, and 
prepared for my new role.

My nipples poked through my hot pink tube top, and the tight 
mini-skirt made out of pair of blue jeans hugged every curve 
of my fanny.  Cheap hoop earrings, too much makeup, unsubtle 
perfume, and outrageous high heels completed my new look. 

In class I always wore my hair in a bun and had mousy reading 
glasses on a chain around my neck.  Still, I am an attractive 
woman, and I always got more than my fair share of attention 
from the males at the university.  I knew most of my students 
would have given their eyeteeth to see me dressed this way, but 
that wasn't going to happen.  The Halloween party was 200 miles 
away, and I knew no one would recognize me there.  I would 
indulge my fantasies and maintain my anonymity.

Jim's jaw dropped open when he saw my new look, and he insisted on 
a "quickie" before we left.  I agreed, figuring the "just fucked 
look" and the smell of sex would complete my disguise.

It certainly did.  I actually felt myself blush when he stuffed 
$25 into my cheap little purse.  He even joked that he was my 
first "trick" of Halloween.

We were in the car only about 10 minutes when his pager went off.  
He stopped at a gas station, and, when he came back to the car, he 
was crestfallen.  Despite assurances from his commander that he 
could have the night off, he'd been ordered to come to the station 
immediately.  Since the station was just around the block, Jim 
said that he would report in and have one of the squad cars give 
me a ride home. 

Jim was in costume, but he always kept a spare change of clothes in 
his locker at the station.  I, on the other hand, would have to 
walk though the station house dressed like a hooker.

Naturally I objected, since I didn't want to parade through the 
station dressed the way I was.  Jim assured me that no one would 
recognize me without my mousy glasses and hairdo.  Much to my 
surprise, he was right, and I soon found myself sitting on a bench 
in the police station, dressed like a prostitute.  If anything, I 
think the outfit made me blend in.

How well it made me blend in was soon apparent.  About 2 minutes 
after Jim left, a couple of officers ushered in about 15 hookers 
from the nightly "sweep" of the downtown area and sent them 
directly over to the bench I was sitting on.  Five minutes later, 
two matrons shoved the entire lot of us into a holding cell.  Since 
I was now indistinguishable from the other hookers that were 
sitting on the bench next to me, I was put into the cell with the 
rest of the them.

I was a probably in the cell about twenty minutes when Harry came 
in.  He was my husband's former partner, and he was the main 
reason I made Jim quit the Vice Squad.  Sleazy, bald, fat, and 
corrupt, Harry was the ultimate "bad cop."  He even had the 
audacity to make a pass at me a couple of times, and his clumsy 
efforts had earned him both a slap in the face and a rather painful 
kick in the groin.

Harry let out a low wolf whistle when he saw me sitting on the 
floor of my cell, and I quickly folded my arms over my breasts 
before going over to the bars to talk to him.

"Well, well, well," he said, with an evil smile. "Looks like our 
little college professor is in quite a pickle.  Sweet little 
Candice dressed like a hooker and arrested for prostitution.  
Jim asked me to drive you home, but then I couldn't find you."  
He smiled and playfully ran his finger along the bars. "You ARE 
in a mess, aren't you?" he teased.

He leaned forward and whispered in my ear.  "Maybe I should tell 
your new roommates that you're the wife of a cop.  I'm sure they 
would love to see how good you can lick pussy."  He let out a nasty 
laugh.

"What do you want, Harry?" I said, coldly.  I could tell the sleaze 
ball was using my misfortune to angle for something.

"I usually am willing to let hookers go...for a price," he said, 
looking me up and down like a slab of beef.

"What do you want, Harry?" I repeated, nervously.

"Usually I let a girl walk out of here if she gives me a blow-job," 
he said, casually.  He touched my mouth and ran his finger along my 
lips.  "And you sure do have a pretty mouth, Candice."

What a pig!  My reply was simple.  I opened my mouth and bit down 
on his finger.

Harry quickly yanked his bleeding finger out of my mouth.  "Still 
the prissy little bitch, huh, Candice?" he hissed.  "Well, you're 
in MY jail now, and you'll play by MY rules."  He called for the 
matron and ordered me out of the cell.  The two of them led me into 
a small room near the end of the hall.

"I think this little whore may be carrying drugs, matron," Harry 
said.  "I want her strip-searched...now."

I quickly tried to explain to the matron.  "I'm not really a 
hooker.  My husband is a police officer.  Let me call him, and 
I'll prove who I am." I pleaded, desperately.

She looked me up and down.  She had a butch haircut, and the way 
she looked at me left no doubt as to her sexual preferences.

"You heard the sergeant," she said, crisply.  "Take off all your 
clothes.  Start with your shoes."

"I can't strip...in front of HIM." I said, pointing at Harry.

"A whore that's too shy to take off her clothes," he mocked.  "That 
must be somewhat career-limiting."

"She must be hiding something," the matron said.

"I think she wants to hide her sweet little pussy." Harry replied, 
crudely.  "Are you afraid I'll find out you're not a natural 
blonde, cupcake?  Well, don't mind me, sweet cheeks.  Uncle Harry 
is just here to watch...and maybe lend a helping hand."

"More like a helping finger," the matron said, with a chuckle.  She 
turned her attention back to me.  "You heard the man, tootsie.  
Strip!  Everything off!  Now!"

Reluctantly, I took off my shoes.  At Harry's "suggestion," my 
earrings were next.  Then he took away my skirt, my tube top, 
and finally my skimpy panties.  Of course, dressed as I was, 
it didn't take long, but he dragged it out, carefully examining 
each item -- and my ever-increasing nudity. 

He ogled me with undisguised lust as I slowly stripped for him, 
obviously relishing his new-found power over me.  A few hours ago, 
if he had made even a slightly suggestive remark, I would have 
slapped his face, and there would have been nothing he could have 
done about it.

But now the law was on his side, and he had every right to order me 
to strip naked.  I was no longer a successful, independent career 
woman, staring down my husband's sleazy partner.  Now I was just 
another two-bit whore, and Harry was a respected member of the law 
enforcement community.  He was free to strip me butt-naked and 
humiliate me in any way he wished. 

Indeed, stripping me shamefully naked wasn't just his prerogative 
-- it was his job.  And it was my job to bend and spread, squat and 
scrape, beg and plead, while he enjoyed himself at my expense.  My 
"role play" had inadvertently left me totally at his mercy.  And 
the glint in his eye made it clear that mercy was not on his agenda.

I now stood before him, naked and trembling, with one arm covering 
my breasts and a hand over my crotch. 

"You sure are pretty when you're blushing, Candice," Harry said, 
his voice dripping with innuendo. 

"She's clean," the matron said.  "Should I put her back in the cell 
with the others?"

"Not so fast," he replied.  He slowly walked around me in a circle.  
Standing behind me and admiring my bare bottom, he and let out a 
low whistle and cupped one of my bottom cheeks in his hand.  I 
flinched at his touch.

"I always did think you had a sweet little ass, Candice," he said, 
teasingly.  "But now that I see your tight little fanny in the 
flesh, so to speak, I can see that I really underestimated you."  
He squeezed my butt, and I felt my throat go dry.

He playfully ran his finger up my bottom crack.  "I'll bet your 
asshole puckers up tight as a snare drum when I fuck you," he 
said, with a cruel laugh.  I shuddered at the thought.

"You know, my original offer still stands," he said.  "If you get 
down on your knees and do your duty, I can have you home in 15 
minutes." 

"No...never," I replied softly.  "Not with you."

"Have it your way," he said, snidely.  "If you want to keep playing 
this prissy little game, that's up to you."

He turned to the matron.  "She still might be hiding something.  I 
think our blushing little princess needs to do some squats."

The matron nodded and turned to me.  She barked out command after 
humiliating command, and I had to obey.  All the while, Harry 
leered at me, enjoying every moment of my intimate exposure.

"Hands over your head!" the matron barked.  "Now turn around in a 
circle."

I meekly obeyed.  Despite the tears in my eyes, I was also starting 
to feel some moisture between my legs.  Was it possible that this 
degradation was actually turning me on?

"We need to loosen up any contraband in your pussy and asshole," 
the matron snapped.  "Keep your hands in the air, and run in 
place."

I obeyed, running in place for several minutes, much to Harry's 
amusement.  He even joked about my "bouncing buns" and "bobbing 
boobies."

"Now do knee bends!" the matron ordered.

"No, deeper!  I want your ass to hit your heels on every squat. 

"No, spread your legs!  I want to see those pussy lips when you 
squat.  Spread it nice and wide." 

At last the matron finished with her humiliating dance recital.  
"Seems to be clean," she said.  

Harry smirked at me.  "What do you think about my offer now, 
Candice?" 

"I'll never make love with you, you son of a bitch," I said through 
gritted teeth.

He laughed.  "Gee, Candice, I don't think I've ever heard you utter 
a curse word before.  You are usually so PRIM and PROPER," he said, 
mockingly.  "Of course, it's kind of hard to act like a prissy 
little bitch when you've just stripped yourself butt-naked for 
pussy squats."

He chuckled.

"Besides, who said anything about making love?" he said, 
contemptuously.  "I just want you to take my dick in your 
sassy little mouth and suck it until I shoot a nice greasy 
load down your throat."

He turned to the matron.  "Put her up on the table, doggie style.  
I'm going to check out that little snatch."

He SNAPPED on a rubber glove while I watched anxiously over my 
shoulder.  Winking at me, he took out a jar of lubricant and put 
a huge gob of greasy jelly onto the end of his fingers.

"Okay, whore!" he said, slapping me on the rump.  "Put your nose on 
the table.  Stick that sweet little ass of yours nice and high in 
the air, so Sgt. Harry can have a good look." 

I obeyed.  What else was I going to do?

"Spread those nice white thighs," he said, tapping the insides of 
my thighs with his finger.  "Give me a little peek at what I've 
been missing." 

"No, wider!" he ordered.

He slapped my bottom hard.  "WIDER, SLUT!" he barked.

With tears in my eyes, I spread my legs for the lecherous pig, like 
the whore I now was.

Harry playfully ran his greasy fingers up and down my cunt lips, 
taking his time to massage and stimulate me before he began his 
humiliating probe. "So you are a natural blonde after all, eh?"  

He stuck a finger inside me and began sliding it in and out.  
"That's quite a tight little money maker you have between your 
legs.  I know a lot of pimps who would love to put this little 
piggy bank to work." 

Then he started to work on my clit.  Maybe it was all of his years 
on the Vice Squad, but I had to admit that he knew how to stimulate 
a woman's pussy.  As he slid his fingers deep into me to begin his 
humiliating "search," I soon found myself grinding my pussy back 
onto his hand.

"You are a little whore after all," he sneered.  "Prissy little 
Candice, always the good girl, jacking off on my fingers like a 
50-cent floozy."

He stuck his pinky into my rectum.  With one finger working my 
bottom hole, two fingers in my pussy, and one finger on my clit, 
I soon had a breathless orgasm, much to his delight.

He pulled his fingers out and laughed at the satisfying "POP" sound. 

"I thought you were never going to have sex with me, Candice," he 
said, taunting me.  "So what would you call that?"

"I call it rape, you bastard," I shot back.  "And that's what I'm 
going to tell the board of inquiry."

He dismissed the matron and then shook his head in mock sadness.  
"Did you just call me a 'bastard,' Candice?  You've really turned 
into such a little potty mouth.  You know, I might have been 
willing to let you off, but you're determined to act like a whore. 
I mean...dressing like a whore...cursing...jacking off on my 
hand...treating an officer with disrespect when he's just doing 
his duty.... 

"Well, if you want to play the part...suit yourself."  He took my 
hooker clothes and pushed them towards me.  But he kept my purse.

"Get dressed," he said.  "Since you want to act like a Halloween 
whore, I'll go out and arrange for your trick or treating." 

He took my purse and left me in the room, returning a few minutes 
later with a large black man in flashy clothes.  The man was 
obviously a pimp, and, dressed as I was, I felt myself withering 
under his cool, professional stare.

He was a pimp.  And I was a nothing but a juicy Grade A whore, ripe 
for the picking.

Harry gleefully "introduced" us.  "This is 'Tanner' Thomson.  They 
call him that because, when a girl acts up, he uses the leather 
belt he's wearing to tan her ass." 

I instinctively rubbed my bottom cheeks while the large black man 
leered at me and toyed with his belt buckle.

"Your hubby put Tanner away for two years, so naturally Tanner'd 
love to return the favor by introducing you to life on the streets."

I suddenly felt light-headed, and I actually had to put my hand 
against the wall to keep from falling over.  This couldn't be 
happening.  Harry surely wasn't going to turn me over to a PIMP.

"Tanner just paid me $500 for your services tonight," Harry 
explained.  "Together with the $300 he's paying for your bail, 
that means he has to get $800 of sucking and fucking out of you." 

Harry smiled.  "I bailed you out under the name 'Candy Cundt,'" he 
said.  "That's your new name, whore.  After we do your mug shots 
and fingerprints, you'll go with Tanner.  Work hard tonight, and 
he'll drop you off at the station at 6:00 AM.  We'll be even, and 
you can just go home and forget about the whole thing."  

I grimaced.  We might be "even" at 6:00 AM.  But between now and 
then, I'd be FUCKED!

Harry handed me my purse, and I opened it, looking for my bank 
card.  I could easily go to a cash station, pay off the black 
pimp,and then go home. 

But my wallet and the money Jim had given me were gone.  I had no 
ID, no money, and no credit cards.  Instead, my purse was stuffed 
with packages of cheap condoms.

"I'll keep your wallet here at the station," Harry explained as I 
stared at him in disbelief.  "The only plastic you'll need tonight 
will be the rubbers you'll be sliding onto all of those big juicy 
cocks."  He held up my wallet, as if he were playfully dangling it 
just out of my reach.  "I wouldn't want you to get lazy and try to 
buy your way out of all the hard work that Tanner has planned for 
you."

"Don't cotton to no lazy bitches in my stable," Tanner said, 
gruffly. 

"At, say, $20 for a blow job and $35 for a straight fuck, I'd say 
that Candy has a busy night ahead of her, to get back your $800, 
Tanner." 

"If she don' get back at leas' double, I'll tan her ass," the pimp 
said, angrily.

I believed him.

"Not a problem," Harry said, reassuringly.  "There's usually a lot 
of frat boys out on Halloween cruising for whores, and, when word 
gets out about Candy's real identity, her students'll be swarming 
around our prissy little princess like flies on shit."

I shuddered at the thought.  From the way the male students and 
even my faculty colleagues looked at me, I had no doubt that my 
dance card would be very full indeed, if word got out. 

Harry considered my new career with professional detachment.  "Of 
course, with all of the tricks you'll be turning, you're probably 
better off just doing it right in the alley and not wasting time on 
a hotel room." 

Tanner grunted his agreement, saying that a hotel room was "jus' a 
waste of money on a cheap ho' like her." 

Harry put his hands on my shoulders and forced me to my knees in 
front of him.  "As a matter of fact, I think we need to give you 
some practice on what it feels like to kneel in an alley right 
now."  He slowly unzipped his fly, and handed me a condom.

I thought about refusing, but, when I looked up from my knees, I 
saw the black pimp playing with his belt buckle.  I knew he was 
just itching to show me who was in charge.  I had to think of a 
way out of this.

Harry took out his penis and began to playfully slap my face with 
it.  As he taunted me, I pleaded for mercy, on my knees, sliding 
helplessly into my new role.  My voice had lost its usual swagger 
and confidence. 

A few hours ago I had been an ardent feminist.  Now I was just 
another cheap whore, pleading with my pimp and a cop not to be 
put back out on the streets....

"Please, officer," I pleaded.  "I know I was...disrespectful, sir.  
A cheap whore like me doesn't have any right back-talking an 
officer of the law like you.  I've learned my place, sir.  I'll 
suck you good!  I'll even suck you bareback!  And I'll swallow 
every drop, sir!  Just don't...turn me out!  Please don't turn me 
over to my pimp!  I just can't work the streets!  Just let me suck 
you off and go home!  Please don't turn me out, sir!" 

Harry smiled down at me and playfully smeared his pre-come under 
my nose. 

"Get to work, whore," he said, pressing the head of his penis 
against my lips.

Defeated beyond words, I took his fat prick into my mouth.  It was 
salty and bitter, and I had to fight from gagging.  It was the 
first of many times that night that I would feel like throwing up.  

He ran his hands through my hair as I obediently sucked him off.  
"That's a good little cocksucker," he sneered at me.  "You're 
gonna be very popular, little Candy.  You're gonna turn a lot 
of tricks this Halloween." 

He paused and groaned as the first hot jet of his sperm splashed 
into my mouth.  It was musky and bitter, but I swallowed it anyway.

"Tanner will line up your tricks," Harry gasped.  "And you'll be 
the treat, Candy."  He grunted as the next jet spurted into my 
mouth.

I swallowed it all...and licked his prick clean afterward without 
having to be told.

"Then, sir, please...d-don't tell anyone who I am.  Let me just 
be a cheap whore named Candy Cundt....  I'll work real hard, I 
will....  Please!"

Harry looked thoughtful.  "Well, maybe something COULD be 
arranged...."

                    ************************************* 
                     
Tanner "turned me out" for my first trick just after 5:00 PM.  
When he dropped me off at the station at 6:00 AM, I had earned 
him almost $2000 "trick or treating," even at the cut-rate prices 
my customers were being charged.  It was a night I would never 
forget. 

But, thereafter, when Jim pulled a late shift, or was on an 
out-of-town assignment, it was a night that I often had to 
repeat, to the satisfaction of my pimp and his pal. 



Edited by C. Lakewood

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

Editor's Note: I took an unusual liberty with this story -- I made 
a significant plot modification.  Joe ended the story simply:  

	"Tanner will line up your tricks," Harry gasped.  "And 
	you'll be the treat, Candy!" Harry said, grunting as 
	the next jet spurted into my mouth.

	Tanner "turned me out" for my first trick just after 
	5:00 PM.  When he dropped me off at the station at 
	6:00 AM, I had earned him almost $2000 "trick or 
	treating."  It was a Halloween I would never forget. 

	And neither would my students! 

But I've always thought that, while this story is an almost perfect 
example of Joe's seven elements of "A Good Strip Search Story," it 
ignores the 7th characteristic: "The ending should imply that there 
are still more indignities to come."

After all, with the original ending, the "secret" would quickly 
cease to be a secret.  It would spread across campus until even 
the administration heard it.  She'd then be fired for "moral 
turpitude" or "for bringing the institution into disrepute" or 
some such.  She and her husband would either divorce or reconcile, 
but, either way, the life she had known would be over.  Having 
nothing more to lose, she would have nothing more to fear, either, 
and so could not be subjected to any further "indignities." 

With my ending, the indignities would continue....

Comments?

		C. L.