The southern Nevada desert was beautiful as though the earth had stripped naked for her lover. I posed on a sun warmed but gritty rock with shiny black heels I could barely walk in, lace topped gleaming black nylon thigh highs, and a smile on my face. Mike and Rodger were smiling as they walked about taking pictures of my naked exposed body with the breath taking vista behind me. Some of the angles were artistic figure, but many were straight up the middle catching every drop of moisture oozing from my pussy. We were all so fascinated by the subject matter with my nipples rock hard and their cocks trying to break free of their jeans that none of us noticed the car pull up.
Then a short blast from the siren with flashing lights and we all panicked. My two strong heroic male companions ran through the brush to the road and drove away in my automobile. I dashed behind some boulders huddling like a young faun petrified at the sight of a mountain lion knowing I would soon be dinner. Mike, Rodger, and I, Vanessa are what nearly everyone refers to as bi-sexual. Mike likes to say try-sexual; as in, try it, you may like it. I don’t refer to us as lovers or the so called friends with benefits preferring to bring into play the non PC designation of sex partners. We have been living, sleeping, and having sex together for about three months. They have been together for over a year. That is my final remark on our personal sexual activities.
“Come up here now! I know you are there and you better not make me chase you down.”
Some exposed women would be less apprehensive hearing the voice of a female officer, but I knew a bull dike when I saw one. My experience with such women has never been pleasant. I stood up straight walking slowly toward the officer without any attempt to conceal my shame. She walked slowly around my naked form admiring bare skin, rock hard nipples, and paid particular attention to the drops of juice quietly meandering down both my thighs. Then the cuffs went on behind my back and a squeeze of my left ass cheek moved me up the knoll and into her vehicle.
“You have not read me my rights!”
“In small towns such as ours, we handle victimless crimes somewhat different than the judges recommend. Do as you’re told for an hour or so and you won’t require a lawyer and I won’t have to to fill out a lot of “registered sex offender” paper work. You can keep your job and I will see that justice is done. We get two dozen or more people displaying their private areas every year. They call it going back to nature. The sheriff and I have our own methods of rehabilitation, which you probably will not enjoy.”
Five minutes later, she drove slowly through the sheriff’s parking lot, turned, and parked out on the street. There were few people about with the nearest two hundred or more feet away. The car door opened and I was requested to step out. Even though there were not many people around, I was red with embarrassment. I understood the officer had no problem showing her prize off to others. I stepped out walking quickly to the door of the office while she drove off in the car leaving me naked and helpless with the fear of humiliation taking me by surprise. Nearly two minutes past before she opened the door and led me through the office to the detention area.
“Before I lock you in the holding cell with all the other prisoners you will need to under go a body cavity search for weapons and drugs. As for your rights, naked little bitches found wandering around the hills like animals don’t have rights in our town. I can make a call and two of the town’s most upstanding citizens will pay fifty dollars each to take you on a short hike. After enjoying themselves, they will bury what little is left a half mile or so off any usable trail. Ready for the search or would you like your attorneys to be present?”
I didn’t speak a word while she cuffed my wrists and ankles to rings in the sides of the cold hard stainless steel covered table. Discomfort from the hard table top was increasingly aggravating my knees and shins as she slowly walked around then caressed my body and finally felt my boobs. A gloved hand worked its way up my pussy one finger at a time until I was being uncomfortably and unpleasantly fisted. I had been fisted once before by a female lover and as much as I detested that this was worse. There is something about a public thing like someone’s hand going into my personal sexual cavity that makes me feel dehumanized. Even with someone I knew well and liked, it was appalling.
She took her sweet time molesting me without a pretense of official permission or concern of complaint regarding violation. Removing her hand, she began working my ass hole one finger at a time similar to my pussy. I enjoy sodomy with the guys on a daily basis and give myself an enema sometimes two every day, which has made me enema dependent. It is not always comfortable because of gas and the lack of being able to take a good shit without injecting water or taking laxative. Knowing I was clean made the defilement of a stranger looking up my ass somewhat more relaxing.
“I think we can begin your rehabilitation, unless you want to make a phone call and sit in the cell for a couple of days. What is it going to be slut? You want to be rehabilitated or branded a sex deviant after a long and public trial?”
“You’re in charge. Do whatever you like. How does your rehabilitation technique differ from others?”
She opened a cabinet showing me about twenty or more sex toys. She brought out a sixteen inch dildo that must have been over two inches in diameter. Surely such things are just for laughs, where would you be able to insert that? There is no way that thing would be comfortable let alone sensuous. Then I realized my gratification and comfort were not her objective. She smiled as she caressed my boobs then slapped the extra large black colored penis shaped and detailed dong against one cheek followed by the other. Setting it back on a rack in the cabinet she took out the twenty four inch long inch diameter more ridged pale white plaything. Although being much longer, it was double ended for pleasuring a partner. Even though I had never used one myself, I could easily identify the nature and function of the lesbian sex toy.
Placing the sex toy on the table for me to admire between my buckled down arms, she removed her own clothes, stripping nude, and put on knee pads. Obviously, she had mounted females on this cold hard stainless steel table many times and wanted some reasonable comfort. My stomach turned thinking about how many women she had used this toy on and how well she had cleaned up afterwards. While she took her time undressing and preparing for my “rehabilitation” a pool of tears from my eyes gathered below me. Just as she was ready to mount me for my rape by instrumentation, she pulled out a couple of condoms and covered each end, which made me feel medically safer.
The officer was about forty-five years old, five foot seven inches tall, and weighed at least of 205 pounds. Looking at her flabby body I wish I had run off while I had the chance. All she could have done was shoot me and I am not convinced that would have been much worse. Then again I was naked in heels and my sex partner friends had fled with my car. They don’t provide much in the way of security do they! What if bikers rather than an officer of the law had found us? I would be lying out there in that wasteland bleeding after being raped a half dozen times. I should really consider going back to girls exclusively!
Her fisting me a minute earlier proved accommodating for the next degrading ordeal. She slid one end of the plastic fuck toy into her hairy pussy then walked around back to climb on the table and begin my “rehabilitation.” She did not utter a sound other than a few grunts as she climbed on to the table then mounted me. Her method was brutal plunging in deep on the first stroke with no foreplay or lubricant. My screams echoed through the room as the pain from the sexual intruder tore into my dry female tunnel.
”Go ahead bitch, scream your fucking head off! You’re in an old shelter for observing A bomb tests with walls five feet thick. Wow, do I like a rough ride! When I find those two boy friends of yours, they are getting the same “rehabilitation.”
She bellowed a vulgar laugh as I cried from discomfort and humiliation. A few minutes later my apprehension waned as I began to feel a lust growing within me. Just as I was about to get more pleasure than pain, the officer had her climax. Screaming for joy her orgasm increased my own pleasure and just before I had my own sexual release, she ripped the plastic prick from my pussy while basically falling off the table. She grabbed her clothes leaving the room to clean herself up while my exasperation continued to grow.
Five minutes later, she walked in and said, “You tell me your name and address and who your two friends are and where they live and you can go.”
“Fuck you, bitch!”
“You just did, want some more?”
I began to tremble from the inspiration my licentious perverted soul was contemplating. Then I took a deep breath and decided to go through with the proposition.
“I saw something near the top of the rehabilitation cabinet coiled above the toys.”
“That’s a bull whip, a six foot single tail. Don’t get the wrong idea, I have no intention of using it on you or your friends.”
“I was fascinated at the sight of it! I can’t get the thought of how brutal it would feel cracked against my exposed flesh. I am sure it would rehabilitate me. I have been paddled, caned, and even flogged each of which brings me to wild climax. Perhaps you would be kind enough to give me a good whipping for rehabilitation.”
“There’s nothing good about a whipping, bitch. Over done you could need medical attention even hospital. You could even die!”
Following her speech, fingers reached my soaking wet pussy giving me a glint of orgasm producing a low animalistic moan. She pressed her fingers wet with my juices to my lips and I sucked every drop. Then she gave me a deep passionate French kiss and for too brief a time we explored each other’s mouth. Finally with a tear drifting down her cheek, she unlocked my wrists and ankles and pointed to the bars of the closed and empty cell. I walked hesitantly yet of my own freewill toward the bars pressing my breasts through and flanked by them. Taking a pair of handcuffs she cuffed my left wrist and lifted it so high that only the balls of my feet touched the floor and I raised my right hand so she could shackle me to the upper cross bar of the iron door.
She became distracted from the thought of whipping me and began to caress my nude form all over some more. Her hands enjoyed my nylon covered ankles, calves, and thighs with their lacy black tops bringing sighs of pleasure from us both. Spending several minutes on my silky smooth legs and then molesting my butt, pelvic, and breasts I almost had an orgasm but was able to fight it off. Cumming now would end any need for beating and I really wanted to feel the suffering. Affectionately caressing my neck, shoulders, and bare back with the coiled bull whip, I felt tremors race up and down my body. With her free hand, she molested my breasts and enjoyed my clit. Finally, she stepped back about ten feet laying the whip out behind her and then lashing out it cracked perhaps an inch from my back as I screamed.
“The next one will land square between your shoulder blades probably tearing a three to four inch gash in your sweet flesh. Even if you don’t need medical attention you may feel agony for days. How many excruciating gashes in your bare back will it take to get you off, bitch?”
“Four. Four times please.” I could hardly get the words out. I don’t know why I chose four and not three or five, but four was what I said and four it would be.
I trembled as she made the crucial movement forward. The sound of the whip moving back into position nearly brought a scream for release. I heard the smack as the whip struck my upper back followed by a blood curdling scream from my soul through my lips. The pain was worse than my fears had anticipated bringing a scream and driving out breath. Catching my breath I realized I was in the middle of the wildest orgasm of my life. She grabbed my torso to share the sexual pleasure of my trembling body. A minute or so later the whip was repositioned, the smack sounded on my back perhaps an inch to the right of the last, and my scream and orgasm repeated louder and stronger than before. The third stroke left me so breathless that I would have passed out had she not helped me to recuperate.
“That’s enough! Next time I find you naked in my jurisdiction, I will finish the job if it takes a week.”
Releasing me she washed my bleeding wounds with cool water. We spent the next ten minutes kissing and caressing and molesting each other. Suddenly, I felt very submissive and dropped to my knees kissing her dirty shoe tops over and over. Looking up into her eyes I felt a strange masochistic thrill. After bowing my head to kiss her shoes some more, I was stunned when she kicked me hard straight in the teeth. She helped my dazed frame to a standing position as I thanked her over and over again. Finally, she gave me some sort of men’s jail house shirt that barely covered my ass and sent me down the street to a café where the guys were waiting. I felt really embarrassed believing that everyone was looking at me and knew exactly what I had been doing for the last hour. I had a beer and just as we were leaving I got this devilish thought.
“Before we return home, you are both required by law to go to the sheriff’s office and surrender yourselves where the deputy will castrate you with a sharp knife.”
Rodger turned white as a ghost, but Mike and I laughed all the way out of town.
Three days later, I got an email from her asking if I were alright and could come and stay a few days. I presume she obtained my email address from my license plate. Before reading it, I striped off my pajamas putting on that jail house shirt. While I read I touched my lips and chin where she had kicked me. I had covered the bruise over with makeup till most of the color had faded with just the slightest tenderness going away little by little.
”I am afraid the only guest room I have to offer has steel bars. I would like to do a follow up on your rehab. Don’t forget, you still have another lash coming.”
Are you like most readers who find the idea of corporal punishment disagreeable?
Or, do you yearn for painful stimulation for maximized gratification?
Send your thoughts to [email protected]
03.02.10