Chapter 5

Instead of a lawyer, I called Rev. Worthington. He was the only one who could possibly explain to the police what I was doing in that motel room.

However, he wasn't at the church. His secretary said he was meeting with a concerned group of citizens about pornography.

I was glad he was keeping up his share of the bargain. But, on the other hand, that meant I had to cool my heels in the county jail until he could get my message and get me out.

I figured they'd throw me into a cell on the women's side of the facility, and I could go to sleep until Rev. Worthington sprung me. Such an arrangement would have been like checking into a weekend at the Waldorf compared to what actually happened.

"All right," the tough-looking matron growled at me when they'd finished booking me, "step in here."

"Is this my cell?" I asked when I entered the bare room. "There's no cot. Where will I he down?"

The matron let out a low laugh and then snapped, "Cut the comedy, you little bimbo. Don't you know us pigs don't have any sense of humor?"

I tried to protest that I didn't mean anything smart. I can see now I should have just kept my mouth shut and taken her scorn in silence. Before I got two words out, the matron's meaty hand swung from her side and slapped against the side of my face.

There'd been articles in the paper for months about alleged police brutality. As a respectable, law-abiding citizen, I'd always assumed the charges had been the unwarranted sniveling of misfits. Now, however, as I toppled to the floor from the blow I'd just received, I began to realize what the complaints were about.

"Please ... please...." I pleaded, "I didn't mean anything."

That got me a big fat kick. Only by turning to my left at the last instant did I prevent it from crashing into my face instead of glancing off my shoulder.

"Okay, tramp," the matron finally said. "Stop goldbricking and get on your feet." She behaved like I'd sat down to take a rest, rather than having been battered to the floor by her violence.

However, despite the unfairness of it all, I didn't have to be very smart to realize it was best to follow directions. It was apparent that this woman had the power to do anything she wanted to me.

Shaking like I was balancing a ton of bricks on my shoulders, I managed to totter to my feet. I prayed she wouldn't knock me down again, because I didn't know if I'd be able to get up. Even though she'd connected with only one solid blow, I already felt like I'd gone fifteen rounds with her.

"All right, cutie," she barked, "stop stalling and strip."

Oh, no, I thought, not this. I'd come to accept the fact she could do as she pleased with me, but I hadn't expected it to go this far. It was getting so that nobody was safe from sex any more in this perverted society of ours.

The expression on my face must have been very obvious. "I know what you're thinking, honey," she said as though she could read my mind.

"Are ... are you thinking the same thing?" I somehow got up enough nerve to ask.

"This is just a simple skin-search, missy," she chuckled. "It's routine for all the guests when they first check into our hotel here. Now strip and let's get this over with so you can go get acquainted with your new friends."

Under normal circumstances I would have been aghast that somebody planned to inspect my naked body. However, in light of the unique situation, I considered the matron's statement of intention a definite turn for the better.

Efficiently I peeled off my clothing. Since her eyes were on me every step of the way, the matron noticed right away I wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Very slick," she whistled through her teeth as she ogled my naked body. "I'll bet you can whip it out faster than Marshall Dillon can draw his six-shooter the way you fix yourself up."

I looked back at her incredulously.

"Tell me, sweetness," she grinned suggestively, "about how many tricks does a girl like you turn in a night?"

She thought I was a common prostitute. I'd never felt so degraded in my life.

"I'll bet with your special get-up that all you've got to do to swing into action is spread your legs," she continued her vile description of my imagined activities. "With no panties in the way, your little pussy's ready to go all the time."

"I am not what you think I am," I said defiantly.

Whack! ... another slap. Somehow I managed to keep on my feet.

"You are if I say you are," she growled. "Just don't forget who's the law enforcement authority around here and who's the tramp and you'll do just fine."

I was so angry I wanted to leap at her and rip her foul tongue out of her ugly mouth. It was an epic struggle to contain myself.

She'd been waiting for me to retaliate. That, of course, would have given her the opportunity to cream me with the billy club she had dangling from her belt. When she realized I wasn't taking the bait, she had no choice but to step back and leave me alone.

However, if I was expecting the situation to improve, I was sadly mistaken. As I was to find out, mere standard operating procedure in the women's jail was enough to humiliate even the strongest willed person.

"Enough of your fooling around," she blamed me for her excesses, "let's get on with the skin-search. I haven't got all night, you know."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Hah!" she snorted. "If that doesn't take the cake. 'What do you want me to do?' she says. As if a little pro like you didn't know."

But, of course, I didn't. And if I couldn't produce what was expected from me within a couple of seconds, I'd get smacked down to the floor again, this time, most likely, by the billy club the matron was fingering.

I was scared to death, but all I could do was wait it out and pray that her impatience forced the instructions from her lips.

"All right," she finally spat, "you've had your fun, chickadee. Bend over and spread your cheeks for Big Mama."

Needless to say, when I heard this my emotions were mixed. I was relieved that at last I knew what to do, but horrified that I had to go through with it.

However, I realized that any further questions would get me nowhere, except perhaps in solitary confinement or in traction. Swallowing my pride, I made ready to follow the matron's orders to open up my ass to her.

Turning my back to her, I leaned over until my head was dipping below my waist. Then, purposely staring at the dull gray floor in an attempt to blot out my feelings, I reached to my rear and pried open my buns.

Just a brief moment after I'd complied with her order, I could feel the matron's hot breath wafting against the exposed spread of my pussy and anus. Obviously this was going to be a very thorough examination.

Dealing with my cunt first, she ran her fingers over the parallel folds of my labia. Then, she found my clitoris, and gave it a quick jab with her meaty thumb. The muscles inside my open gash couldn't help but tighten, and I'm sure my twat must have puckered in her face.

"Say, honey, you're wet," she trilled as she glommed a big swipe of goo from the mouth of my cunt with her index finger. "Looks like you've been having a profitable evening."

When I heard her sniffing her wet fingers, and smacking her lips, that was too much for me. "Just what is it you're looking for in there?" I spoke up with impulsive sarcasm.

"Weapons, darlin', weapons," she trilled some more, her mood obviously improved by access to my open pussy. "Weapons ... and, of course, drugs."

"Between my legs?" I blurted disbelievingly.

"You've got to admit your cunt's a perfect place to hide them. Damn thing's just like a glove compartment. Now, if you don't mind, I'll just look a little further."

With that, her fingers returned to my pussy. Only this time they didn't confine their activity to the outside. All of a sudden they were inside and wiggling.

Had it not been labeled a skin-search, the only name for what she was doing to me would have been finger-fucking.

"Listen, baby-cakes," the matron crooned, her mood becoming mellower by the moment, "you've got a real deep one. A deep, deep pussy."

"Is that right?" I responded disgustedly.

"One of the deepest I've ever seen," she said. "And I've been in law enforcement work over fifteen years. Must've skin-searched thousands of girls ... felt a whole army of cunts."

"Good for you," I hissed, heedless of the possible consequences.

Her response was more shocking than any physical blow. "Tell me, dearie," she smacked her lips, "just how big of a cock can you take in that thing, anyway? What's the biggest hard-on you've ever taken?"

God, how I hated her. I wanted to put her in her place worse than I'd ever wanted to do anything in my life.

"None," I responded with sudden inspiration. "I've never had a cock in my pussy. I'm a lesbian."

"Well, sheeeeee-iiittt!" she exclaimed. "If that don't beat all. I mean, I knew that most of you whores were dykes when you were off duty, but I don't think I ever ran across one of your kind that was so finicky when it came to money."

"You have now," I defiantly told her, almost believing it myself in my outrage.

"Now that's really something," she mused, twisting her hand around in the interior of my pussy. "Imagine that. A cunt like yours-and the damn thing's actually cherry."

"And the owner is proud of it," I perservered with my charade.

"What a shame," she went on in her disgusting vein. "Something big and long and round and hard would be a sight to behold in a snatch like yours. God must be very disappointed after He was so generous to outfit you with a twat like this. Girl, you ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"Not half as ashamed as I'd be if I were you," I snarled, my emotions running away from me.

"That's no way to talk," she answered. "I go to church every Sunday. Not only that, I'm a member of one of the Lord's chosen professions. Law enforcement."

"Whoop-de-doo."

"And the way I see it," she ignored my sarcasm, "it's up to a person that's seen the light, like myself, to show a sinner like you the way. After all, Christianity and law enforcement are both about the same thing."

"What's that?"

"Rehabilitation, sweet-thing. Rehabilitation."

"Is that right."

"You better believe it. And the first thing I'm going to rehabilitate about you is your cunt. With something big and long and hard and round like I was telling you about."

In my contorted position I couldn't see what she was doing. But, then again, I didn't have to. I knew exactly what she was doing.

She was reaching for that billy club. That billy club which possessed almost exactly the same dimensions as a hard-on. In addition to being a weapon, it was the perfect dildo.

Like it or not, I was about to be fucked.

Her hand slurped out of my pussy. Almost with no interval it was replaced with the phallic replica I was expecting. The only surprise was that it was even thicker than I had anticipated. A horse's cock would have been more merciful than this thing.

"How do you like it, dumpling?" she asked as she unleashed inch after inch of billy club up my snatch. "I'll bet the walls of your pussy feel good around it, whether the rest of you likes it or not. Before I'm through I'll bet you'll be wondering where this kind of action has been all your life."

I was too choked with rage to speak. It didn't bother her. Obviously she liked the sound of her own voice.

"I'm sticking it in all the way now, sugar-bun," she informed me of the obvious. "You couldn't get a bigger prick up your pussy if you advertised in one of those underground newspapers. I hope you appreciate what I'm doing for you."

The missile-like tip of the thing was now burrowing into depths of my body which were previously unchartered. I began to accept the inevitability of being ripped in two. Then, I knew it was in me to the hilt when I felt her knuckles scraping inside the cleft of my ass.

"I'm going to sort of twist it around now," she mapped out her course of action. "That's the way a man does it when he's shafted you all the way. They use their pricks like they're drilling for oil. It might hurt for awhile, but if they keep it up, they're going to bring in a gusher."

I hated her logic, but that didn't prevent me from accepting its basic soundness. I couldn't argue with fact.

Yes, she was correct. The more she circulated her phallic bludgeon within my cunt, the more inevitable it became that my fuck-hole would start to ooze with juice-or gush, as she had so quaintly put it.

The ultra-sensitive tissues of my twat didn't care a thing about their owner's hang-ups. Friction was all that mattered to them-and plenty of friction was what they were now getting.

The kind of friction that really makes a difference inside a woman's pussy. Friction from a long, hard, round source.

My cunt had no way of knowing that it was actually a billy club reaming it out. As far as it was concerned there was a pumping hard-on engorging its spasming tunnel.

There was no way my twat could reverse the gooey pattern of the ages. It was this simple: if my pussy was fucked, it was going to cream.

The rhythm of the matron's billy club became punctuated with noisy squishing. All of a sudden the slurp of my jack-hammered cunt filled the tiny room.

"My, my" the matron smugly said, "will you look at this. Your little snatch is oozing like a sponge."

As if she had to tell me. I could feel the excess goo trickling down my legs. My thighs were a sticky mess.

Then, just as I was getting used to it, she really stunned me.

"I guess I've proved my point," she announced. "No need to go on with this any further. I guess it's safe to say you don't have any weapons or drugs hidden up there."

"No, no, please don't stop!" I utterly astonished myself. "It feels too good for you to quit now. Keep fucking me ... please ... please! At least until I come. You owe me that much after all you've put me through."

"Say, honey-dripper," she chuckled, "just who do you think's in charge here?"

"You!" I affirmed her dominance. "That's why I'm begging you not to take that thing out of my cunt until I come. Don't you see, I need it now. Need it!"

"Perhaps you do," she said coyly. "But what about me?"

"Take off your clothes," I hastily blurted. "I'll eat your pussy while you're fucking mine. I promise to make you come as hard as you make me. My tongue is eight inches long."

"No kidding?"

"Yes, yes! It's just like a cock!"

"And you want to tongue-fuck my cunt?" she seized the initiative. "Yes!"

"Then beg for it," asserted her dominance. "Tell me how much you want it."

"More than anything!" I uncontrollably babbled. "Please!"

She coyly paused. Intellectually I knew it was a trick, but emotionally it tore me up.

"All right, pumpkin," she finally said. "Just be sure you don't have any diseases."

"I don't ... I don't," I promised her, unable to be humiliated any longer by her cruelty now that I wanted to come so desperately. "I'm clean. I swear it!"

The sound of her zippers unzipping and her buttons popping was music to my ears. Keeping the billy club crammed up my twat throughout her disrobing, she made herself naked and then slipped her massive body between my spread legs. Wriggling into view she covered the floor with her muscularly spread loins.

I found myself looking into the most enormous pussy I'd ever seen in my life. The thing was like a hairy manhole. And it smelled to high heaven.

But, as far gone as I was, I couldn't wait to get my twitching tongue inside it.

As she kept pumping from the rear with the phallic club, I lowered my face to her reeking groin. Eagerly I lowered the lips of my mouth over the fat lips of her gaping pussy and began sucking for all I was worth.

"Let's have that tongue you were bragging about, sister," she spoke sharply. "I want some stiff meat in my cunt right now."

I was only too happy to oblige.

Salty funk seared my taste-buds as I dipped deeply into her cavernous nookie. The flavor of her snatch was so unique it was like tasting pussy for the first time all over again.

Right away the probing tip of my tongue found the knot of her cervix and began stimulating it. I'm not exaggerating when I say the thing was as big as the head of a cock. Her proportions were as giant on the inside as on the outside.

"More tongue," she directed. "More!"

Obediently I slid the remaining inches up her roomy fuck-hole. There was enough space in there to wiggle any way that caught my fancy, and I made the most of it. The experience was like licking the inside of a jelly jar.

All the while, she kept doing her number with the cockish billy club. My cunt was pulsating so wildly that it seemed more like an open wound than an organ of my body. I was halfway sure my crotch would be sealed over with a scab for weeks after this was over.

We were inside each other to the hilt now. All that remained was to keep pistoning with our respective prods, and wait for the inevitable orgasms. When we finally came it would shake the building.

All of a sudden the gears of our senses meshed and a terrific orgasm blasted through both of us at once. There was no way to tell whose climax was whose as the sensation of release invaded each of our naked bodies simultaneously.

When she writhed, I did exactly the same. The bucking of her hips was perfectly matched by my furious pelvic twitching.

Our pussy juice flowed like wine. Before long it had spilled all over the floor and we were wallowing in a huge puddle of it. We could hear ourselves splashing.

I had forgotten all about being in jail. My runaway libido was the only thing of which I considered myself to be a prisoner.

I didn't care where I was. Who I was. All I cared about was coming. Getting it on with this over-sized specimen of twat wriggling joyously beneath me.

When the sound of my name penetrated the door I didn't even know who they were talking about. Only the frenzied knocking finally brought me around.

"Is Mrs. Edwards in there?" somebody called.

"Yes ... I'm ... I'm skin-searching her," the matron answered between orgasmic gasps.

"Well, tell her to get dressed and go to the desk," the voice on the other side of the door said. "She's being released. All charges against her have been dropped."

"Damn!" we both muttered simultaneously.