Strip Search Read online

  STRIP SEARCH

  I was wondering what was keeping my husband when the pounding started. It was a ruthless, official sort of knock, demanding and impatient, the kind that said you'd better damn well answer the door.

  "Open up! Police!"

  I jumped halfway to the ceiling, and my heart started pounding as hard as the cop's knock.

  "Police!" That brusque bark did not belong to a man who liked to be kept waiting. Scurrying across the room, I jerked open the apartment door.

  And looked directly a large silver badge on a wall of blue fabric.

  My eyes tracked up massive chest -- there had to be a head up there somewhere -- until I found a square-jawed face and a pair of narrow black eyes under the low, polished brim of a hat. He looked like Arnold Schwartzenegger playing somebody pissed off. "Jean Marlow?"

  I swallowed. "Uh...yes?"

  "I have a warrant for your arrest." And he pushed past me into my apartment.

  "There must be some mistake," I said, and quickly swung the door closed. No need to get the neighbors talking.

  He turned quickly to face me, pulling his T-shaped baton. "Yeah, and you made it. Up against the wall."

  "But..."

  "I SAID, assume the position!"

  Well, that was pretty plain. I gave the baton a wary glance and turned toward the door, leaning against it on my palms in a pose I'd seen on a hundred cop shows. Setting my bare feet apart, I waited, unable to believe this was happening.

  He tapped the baton against my calves. "Spread 'em. Wider."

  I obeyed nervously, suddenly aware of the way my tight shorts dug into my vulva. He stepped in close, the leather of his gun belt creaking as he bent. Big, warm hands caught my ankles, began to run slowly up my legs. It felt ... good.

  "That's not necessary," I protested, and winced at how breathless I sounded. "You can see I don't have anything on me."

  "It's official procedure, Ms. Marlow," the cop growled, but there was nothing official about the way he ran his fingers over the indentation of my labia through the shorts. Suddenly he cupped my butt and squeezed slowly, those huge hands engulfing my cheeks. I licked my lips.

  "Stop that," I croaked. "I'll ... I'll file a complaint ... "

  "You've got a lot of outstanding warrants, Ms. Marlow," the cop purred. "You're obviously a dangerous character. I don't think anybody will find you a believable witness." But his hands left my ass.

  And promptly slid up under my loose T-shirt and around the curve of my ribs to curl over my breasts. "My, oh, my, Ms. Marlow. Don't you believe in bras?" The cop found my nipples with his thick, blunt fingers and began to twist them deliciously. I bit my lip to stifle my whimper of pleasure. God, he was making me hot!

  I'd always had fantasies about cops ...

  Suddenly he let me go and stepped back, then grabbed my elbow and pulled me around. Holstering his baton, he said, "I'm still not satisfied you don't have a weapon. You'll have to take off your clothes."

  "You're nuts!"

  The cop's black eyes narrowed. "You heard me. Strip." He slid one hand to his gun.

  Swallowing, I grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it over my head, feeling cool air blowing over my puckered nipples. Dropping the shirt on the floor, I unsnapped my red shorts. They were so tight I had to squirm to get out of them, and in the process, I ended up pulling off my bikini panties too. The cop's black eyes followed every move I made, every sway of my breasts and wiggle of my hips. He looked so big standing there in that blue uniform, weapons riding his narrow hips, his wide, muscular chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked like every domination fantasy I'd ever had.

  After a long, hot moment, he moved, circling behind me slowly. I felt his breath gusting warmly against my bare spine.

  He grabbed my hands and jerked them behind my back. I heard a click, then felt cold metal around my wrists. He'd handcuffed me!

  "You have the right to remain silent..." The cop pulled me back against his body, the big buckle of his belt digging into the small of my back. "Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law." Catching my breasts, he began to knead them, flicking and plucking at my nipples until I moaned helplessly. Unable to stop myself, I rolled my hips backward at him until I felt the thick bulge of his erection rubbing my ass. The sensation made me whimper over the sound of his voice droning out Miranda. "Do you understand these rights?"

  But he didn't wait for my answer, just grabbed a handful of blonde hair and pulled my head back. His mouth came down on mine, tongue thrusting and sweeping over mine. The kiss was long and delicious, and I returned it helplessly.

  Finally he lifted his head, both hands still busy on my breasts. "You ever heard of a body cavity search?"

  My moan must have communicated my complete ignorance and lack of interest, because his hands tightened on my nipples. "That's where you probe the suspect's orifices for weapons and contraband. Like her mouth." He bent and kissed me again, hard. "That tongue is definitely deadly, Ms. Marlow."

  Abruptly he pushed me toward the coffee table, then picked me up and draped me across it. An ashtray thudded to the carpeted floor as my cuffed hands dug into my back. I arched my spine and stared at him, wide eyed. "What are you...what are you doing?"

  "Well, it's like this, Ms. Marlow," he rumbled, "Some suspects try to conceal things in their cunts."

  With that, the cop grabbed my legs and lifted them to his shoulders, then reached for my fluffy blonde bush. Warm fingers explored my lips, dipped between them, slipping through my heat. He growled his appreciation. I dropped my head back over the edge of the table and groaned as he slid two fingers more deeply into my cream. His other hand rediscovered my taut nipples and toyed skillfully with them. I closed my eyes in helpless delight.

  Then there was nothing but the liquid sounds of him tormenting my pussy to the counterpoint of my gasps and moans.

  "You know what, Ms. Marlow?" he asked at last.

  I whimpered.

  "Some people..." he pulled his hand away from me, "even conceal contraband up their asses. Can you believe that?"

  And a broad finger, wet with my arousal, began to probe between my cheeks.

  "Oh, don't!" I gasped, but it was too late. That merciless digit had already begun burrowing up my butt. I squirmed and shook my head in a delirium of protest and pleasure. It felt so hot, that spice of pain, the sensation of being invaded by this ruthless stranger.

  "I don't know, Ms. Marlow," the cop said, screwing his finger further into my ass, "I think I need to probe even deeper. It's going to take something a lot longer to get the job done."

  My eyes flew open as he let go of my breasts and reached for his fly. A moment later, he'd liberated a breathtaking erection that looked as thick as my wrist. I dropped my head back and moaned in surrender as he began to force it into my pussy. As hot and wet as I was, it was still a tight fit, a sensation heightened by the way his finger was ravaging my asshole.

  Then he started to stroke, and it got even better. His cock shuttled back and forth, its head stretching my cunt walls as he tormented my ass. He fucked me with wicked skill, varying his pace, sometimes pounding me, sometimes slowing to a teasing glide, sometimes circling his hips until his cock plundered every fold of my pussy. And each time I was about to come, he'd change the beat to keep me from going over the edge.

  "Oh, GOD!" I screamed at last. "Let me come! Please, oh, please, I can't stand it...."

  "I don't know," he said, digging his finger into my butt and sliding his cock slowly up my cunt. "You've been a pretty bad girl. Do you really think you deserve to come?"

  "PLEASE!!!"

  He gave me a grin I'll never forget. "But I haven't finished searching you yet. There might be something up your ass."

  "No, don't!"

  But he'd already jerked finger and cock out of me. Before I could even move, he grabbed his big prick with one hand and set it against my anus. Without a pause, he drove the entire length of it into my butt, bearing down with all his weight and strength until I was thoroughly, helplessly, wonderfully stuffed.

  "You bastard!" I gasped, when I could talk again.

  "Hey, nobody ever accused me of being soft on crime." And he began to fuck my ass with slow brutality while he sought out my clit for some skillful stroking. In minutes, the combination had me climbing the peak again.

  "That's what I like," he said, black eyes fixed greedily on my face as I bit my lip against my whimpers. "A cooperative suspect. Nice and submissive. With such a tight, helpless little ass." He pulled out until my anus stretched wide around the hood of his cock, then drove it back in. I squirmed, impaled deliciously. I'd never felt so fucked in my life.

  It was all too much. Being dominated and taken, just like in my secret, darkest fantasies. I squeezed my eyes shut and keened.

  "Then again, sometimes you just have to get rough," the cop purred in my ear, and rammed to the hilt.

  I threw back my head and screamed as my climax hammered through my core in long, powerful waves.

  "Oh, yeaaaaaaah..." he groaned, and arched his back. I felt something hot began to flood my ass as he came. His powerful body twisted over mine, then finally collapsed.

  I grunted at the pressure of our bodies bearing down on my cuffed wrists. "I think this qualifies as police brutality."

  "And you love every minute of it," said my husband, pulling his softening cock out of my sore asshole. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

  I smiled up at him. "Happy anniversary to you too, Officer Hubby."

  "Hey,
we're not done yet," he said, giving me a lusty grin. "Now we act out MY fantasy."

  THE END

 

 

  Angela Knight, Strip Search

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