LEGAL DISCLAIMER

All characters, places and events in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to real people either living or dead is purely coincidental. It is also important to be aware it is not the author’s intention to promote or condone any activities that would be considered illegal in many parts of the world. It should further be noted it is not the author’s intention to provide factual information related to any ‘alternative sexual lifestyle’ nor educational resources for safe sexual practices.

The story is intended to entertain open-minded adults and you are encouraged to read this story with your partner. No guarantees or warranties are offered if this story fails to meet your expectations. All comments and other feedback is welcome and should be addressed to slave802120@gmail.com with the subject header ‘Eastlake’.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

All words and images used to illustrate this story are ©2005 Ingrid Hawthorne. They may be downloaded for private viewing but may not be reproduced or redistributed in any form without the expressed written permission of the Copyright owner. 


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Case #802120 - Part 2 - Charged

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The arresting officers escorted me back to the foyer of the Public Slave Office and left me there, standing naked and shackled before the desk sergeant. There was some commotion as other officers entered from the street dragging a young girl by chains attached to a collar around her neck. She was screaming at them in Spanish -- really screaming, like a banshee -- and frantically trying to kick out and punch the arresting officers. Once they got her in through the doors, she stiffened her legs, like a dog resisting a bath, but her high heels provided no grip on the marble floor and she skidded effortlessly into the foyer. My blood curdled at the high-pitched sounds of her wailing and, though I felt some sympathy for her, it seemed clear from the looks of her cheap dress, tattoos and piercings that she was a hooker.

"Will somebody gag that bitch!" the desk sergeant grumbled.

I watched him nervously as he reached into his desk and pulled out a sinister looking black leather hood. He threw it over to one of the officers who had arrested me and, with a little bit of assistance from his partner, he wrestled it onto the girl's head and zipped it tightly closed and secured it with a padlock. She could still be heard, but her screaming had at least been muffled enough that I could clearly hear the desk sergeant.

"Right," he said. "Hmm, I see you have accumulated a couple of new charges already, hmm?"

Swallowing cleared a knot of embarrassment from my throat but I and could still taste the lingering saltiness of cum in my mouth. I wriggled my fingers behind my back and curled my toes. Being reminded of the humiliation I had just endured caused a little tingle to ring through my clit.

"Phil," the sergeant called to one of my arresting officers. "What's wrong with, um (he had to check my file number) -- what's wrong with slave 802120's cock sucking?"

The loudness and the embarrassment of the question about me made me shudder involuntarily.

"Nothing," a voice came back from behind me. "But she cums too quickly."

The desk sergeant raised an eyebrow at me and smirked.

"Yeah," Phil said after he moved to stand beside me. "And she loves the taste of cum too. She sucked our balls dry and swallowed the lot!"

His comments would have disgusting enough if they had been made about the hooker, still struggling to escape the officer who now had her almost subdued. But he was talking about me! My head slowly shook from side to side to deny what he was saying. His partner was now standing next to me as well, and one of the other officers moved around to look me up and down.

"She does?" the third officer asked.

"Oh yeah!" Phil said. "Do you see any cum on her, Al? There's none on the floor of the interview room either. Swallowed the lot, she did. Every last drop."

The officer standing in front of me unbuckled his belt, unzipped and pushed his trousers to the floor. There didn't seem to be anywhere for me to look except down at his cock, and it was large but not very aroused.

"Let's see how good she is then," he laughed and I was pushed to my knees.

"Do you want me to take off her cuffs, Al?" Phil asked.

"No, I want her to make me cum using nothing more than her mouth," Al replied.

I reluctantly pressed my face close to his cock and caught the tip of it in my mouth. Its semi-flaccid state felt unusual, although this made it easier to completely fill my mouth with it, right down until his pubic hairs tickled my nose. I rolled the tip of it around with my tongue and gently squeezed it by pressing the spongy shaft against the roof of my mouth. It was sort of like munching a jelly sausage but without using my teeth. After a few minutes of slurping and sucking without effect, I felt the first signs of his cock stirring to life. It was almost imperceptible at first, except I noticed a slight swelling and firming of it and now, when I pressed my face hard into his crotch, I could feel it prodding right at the back of my mouth. It also felt like it was rising in elevation, having gone from a downward, drooped pitch to more of a angle perpendicular to his thighs.

Except for the occasional muffled grumble from the Spanish hooker and my nostrils noisily sucking air, the foyer was silent. All eyes were on me, including the desk sergeant who now had moved from around his desk to have a closer view. I closed my eyes again and concentrated on sucking. Unlike my two arresting officers, this one remained passively still and left me to bob my mouth on his cock. I felt an odd sense of annoyance at this, and whimpered my frustrations -- softly at first, but with an increasing pitch that I hoped could be heard without being too obvious. His cock continued to swell in length and expand, but there was still a softness about it that made me think there was a long way to go before he'd be fully erect.

My thoughts were focused on what I was doing and so I didn't immediately know who had just entered the foyer through the front door behind me, but there was something -- call it intuition -- that suddenly snapped me back to reality. I opened my eyes briefly and glanced sideways just as my husband appeared.

"What the --!"

I froze solid, paralyzed by the shock of seeing him -- of him seeing me, with my mouth stuffed with cock.

"Can I help you?" the desk sergeant asked.

"Keep sucking, slut," Al said. He jerked his hips and pumped his cock deep into my mouth to get my attention.

I could feel my whole body burning up with embarrassment. I continued to stare helplessly up at my husband. His eyes remained locked on mine. They were as wide as saucers and unblinking for a long moment.

"That's my wife!" he finally said, spitting the words out in an incredulous tone. "What's going on?"

My husband was the last person in the world I could think of who would become hysterical, but that's what he sounded like. I can't even describe it exactly except to say he sounded completely dumbstruck.

"Your wife?" The desk sergeant didn't sound at all concerned. "Well mister, as you can see, your -- wife -- is busy sucking cock at the moment."

"I ... I ... I can see that! But -- why --?"

"She was arrested and charged earlier tonight for being drunk in a public place, and for resisting arrest."

"Drunk? Resisting arrest?? I don't believe it! Ingrid?"

My husband just stood there with his jaw hanging open, giving me the most incredulous look. A sad, disbelieving look that filled me with guilt.

"And for being a useless cock sucker," Phil added. His wry laugh peppered the silence.

"There's nothing you can do tonight. She'll be locked up in a holding tank and will appear before a magistrate in the morning," the desk sergeant said.

While all this was going on, Al's cock in my mouth had been growing larger and more solid. Its girth had expanded to the point where it physically forced my mouth open wide and made my jaw ache.

"What about a lawyer?" my husband asked; his tone slightly more calm.

"Oh yeah. Get yourself a good lawyer, mister. If she's convicted tomorrow, which is highly likely, the court will seize all her assets. You should go home now and get --"

"Seize assets?" my husband interrupted.

"If you'll let me finish please," the desk sergeant grumbled. "Get yourself a good lawyer and get your financial and property affairs in order. Anything you own jointly could be sold up by the court."

"You've got to be kidding me?" My husband's voice became shrill again.

"Listen shithead! I'm doing you a favor here!" the desk sergeant said.

"A favor? Where the fuck am I going to find a lawyer this late on a Friday night?"

"That's not my problem, pal. Sort it out yourself. Now, get the fuck out of my station before I have you arrested."

My eyes began to burn, but the tears refused to flow. Nobody had ever spoken to my husband like that before. He's such a strong man and just doesn't take that from anybody. But I could see he was powerless in the situation. This was the law he was dealing with -- the government -- and there wasn't a thing he could do. I gave him a look that I hoped reassured him we'd get through all this. He just stared at me -- the blood drained from his face and with a pathetic, hangdog look of defeat -- before walking slowly from the foyer.
