The Police

[scream-ya-whore]

OK, story number 2. Criticism and comments welcome (PM if you're too shy to post :-)

“Oh yes, I know of her,” admitted Mat Jennings. “Didn’t know she was into acting though –apart from acting like a spoilt little rich bitch, that is.” Jim chuckled. “Well, her agent says she seriously wants to give it a go. Can’t see her being good for anything except pornos personally, but I’ll see her anyway, just to keep the agent sweet – he does put some good people my way sometimes.”

As usual, Mat’s mind was working overtime and as he chatted with his casting director friend, a plan took shape in his mind. He did not like spoilt little rich bitches one little bit and disliked this particular airhead in particular. She stood for everything he hated, and constantly reminded him of it in her pathetic little newspaper columns or on the radio. Inherited millions from Daddy and thought it made her special – Manchester’s own little Paris Hilton. Spent more on shoes in a month that he earned in a year, but unlike Mat, who’d worked his butt off for years and never even been promoted, she had never done a proper days work in her life. Mat scowled and ordered another beer. Yes, this might just work.

“Jim,” he said as the pair settled down with two more bottles. “Once she’s done whatever audition you have lined up for her, I want you to tell this Camilla bird there’s another part she might be interested in – you’ll think of something -and get her to read some lines I’m going to write. Record them – audio only - for me and give me the tape. You’ll eventually be asked if you produced it; you didn’t. Don’t get your own voice on the tape.” Jim knew not to ask questions despite the dodgy sounding nature of the request. They may be friends but he knew from experience Mat was a ruthless and vengeful bastard if he didn’t get his own way. He was acutely aware that Mat knew about his not-very-legal casting methods including the favours he insisted on from the better looking female hopefuls who really wanted the part, not always quite of a legal age, and the bribery of those he didn’t fancy. Most importantly, Jim never forgot that Mat was a Greater Manchester Constabulary police officer.

Pleased with himself, Mat called up fellow cop PC Darren Hickman, an inseparable friend since school, who had just come off shift. Together they made their way to the Blue Nights massage parlour and on the way discussed Mat’s idea. Darren didn’t need much persuading. Mat knew he wouldn’t. At Blue Nights, the maid smiled as they walked in. “Sarah or Jane?” she asked. “Or would you like a girl each tonight?” They might be being blackmailed, but the management of the city’s parlours didn’t mind too much. These two weren’t the only cops to demand free sessions with the girls but at least it ensured their highly profitable establishments would stay free of police hassle. It was a small price. “Who’s that?” Mat and Darren simultaneously noticed a stunning brunette they had never seen before coming from the direction of the showers. Could she really be eighteen...? “Tracey,” laughed the maid. “Started last week. Busy I’m afraid.” “Not bloody surprised. No problem, we’ll be back for her another time,” said Mat. “Jane, please.” Mat liked Jane’s pert little arse, while Darren enjoyed her oral talents, and they both liked threesomes, so they often shared Jane, taking one end each as it were.

Jim opened the envelope that greeted him when he arrived for work and read the lines that Mat had typed. Weird. And, if they’d been written by anyone but a cop, unsettling. Two hours later, he was explaining to Camilla Forbes-Hamilton (could that really be this silly tart’s real name?) about the serious documentary for which he thought she could provide the perfect voiceover. It was about women who falsely cry rape. The documentary would feature women who admitted they had done this, but for obvious reasons would only explain why on condition of anonymity and if an actress read their lines. “Sure, I’m interested,” said the bimbo, flattered at being asked. She began to read. “Put some feeling in it”, said Jim. “Make me believe you really are that woman talking.” He was surprised at how well she did. “Why did I make up these rapes? Because you men are all same ....” she began. A twisted anti-man diatribe followed. “And you won’t be the last. I’ll do it again given half a chance.” “Thank you, that was great Camilla,” said Jim, somewhat surprised she could so much as read, let alone put on a half decent performance. He’d post the tape through Mat’s letterbox on the way home.

Camilla arrived home at 2.00am. Pissed as usual. Dressed as a tart as usual. Shrieking with drunken laughter with her equally pissed girlfriends as usual as she got out of the taxi, which eventually pulled away. She staggered up the driveway, jumping as she heard her name called. “Miss Forbes-Hamilton,” said Mat. “I’m PC Jennings, this is my colleague PC Hickman”. Flashing their warrant cards they followed the drunken airhead up the drive. “We need to speak to you about a delicate matter. Is there anyone else in the house – if so perhaps we should go to the car; I suspect you won’t want this to be overheard.” Struggling to clear her head and focus on what was being said, Camilla stumbled, dropping her keys. Walking and trying to think at the same time was too much for her simple brain, thought Mat, picking up the keys. “Is there anyone else in?” he repeated. “No.” Mat and Darren exchanged smiles. “Oh good,” said PC Jennings. “Let’s go inside.”

The lounge was bigger than either Mat or Darren’s entire homes. And what had she ever done to earn it? “Before we get down to business, let me explain something.” Darren was talking now. “As police officers, we occasionally have to resort to rather unfortunate questioning methods in interviews if suspects are being uncooperative. Put simply, we are experts as inflicting utterly unbearable agony without leaving a mark. Do you understand?” She understood the words but couldn’t for the life of her understand why the hell these officers were speaking them at two in the morning in her home. “Let me put it in a way even you can get your stupid airhead brain around,” Mat took over. “Do what we fucking tell you or you will feel the kind of pain you never knew existed.”

Camilla was sobering up rapidly and even she was able to work out something was seriously wrong. This was confirmed for her when Mat’s huge right hand began to tighten around her throat. She didn’t know exactly what his finger was pressing on, all she knew was that an agonising stabbing pain shot across her head and down her back, a pain so severe she thought she’d pass out. “Understand now?” She nodded, unable to breathe, let alone speak. Mat removed his hand and she dropped to her knees gasping for breath. The officers sat on the huge sofa. “Strip!” said Darren. Camilla struggled to her feet and stared at the officers – police officers for fuck’s sake - in utter disbelief. “I said get your fucking clothes off!” yelled Darren with such venom that she knew she had to obey. “Not that you’re wearing many anyway, are you whore? Bet there’s no knickers under that skirt is there?” The skirt came off and proved Darren right. Mat snorted in disgust. “Fucking little tart. Go around like a whore we’ll treat you like one,” he added, removing his penis from his trousers. “Suck my cock,” he ordered, reaching up, grabbing her hair, pulling her young blonde face down and shoving it between his legs. Darren stood up and removed his trousers, made his way behind her, bent down and put his tongue to work on her smooth pussy and arse. Confused, head spinning, terrified and revolted by the cock in front of her face, she tried begging. “Please, don’t do this. I can pay you. Let me give you money – loads of it – just don’t ... don’t do this.” “Kind of you to offer,” said Mat, but we’re going to have your money as well. So get sucking or take the consequences.”

For a while he let her do the work, content to look at the distress on her face as she was forced to suck this crazy stranger’s cock between sobs. Then he grabbed her hair and thrust her head down on his cock as hard as he could. She gagged and spluttered in shock as his member stabbed her throat. He pulled her up again before thrusting her head back down, time and time again. Gagging and choking, Camilla couldn’t even scream as she felt Darren enter her pussy from behind. A few minutes later, Mat pulled the brain-vacant blonde head off his cock; he didn’t want to cum just yet. He stood and watched Darren at work. With her mouth empty at last the pleading resumed. “You’re supposed to be cops,” she cried, “why are you doing this – why me?” “Coz you’re a spoilt little brain-dead whore,” explained Mat, reasonably, as he poured himself a whisky. For a minute or two he just stood, sipping his drink and watching with satisfaction as Darren pounded loudly in and out of her doggy style while the whimpering drunken bitch’s tits swung wildly beneath her. Shit. Should have brought a camera.

Darren pulled out and Mat decided it was his turn to violate her now vacant hole. He wanted her on top, though, so he lied back on the huge sofa – easily bigger than they average bed and perfectly adequate for the purposes -and ordered her to mount him. Hesitating just a second too long and she again found a powerful hand heading for her throat. “All right, all right,” she blurted in panic, knowing she had no choice but to ride this revolting 50-year old cop’s throbbing dick. She scrabbled on top of Mat and screwed her face in disgust as she lowered herself, feeling his shaft making its way towards her womb. Darren held his dick to her face. He didn’t say a word and didn’t need to. She knew what she had to do. Her mouth opened and she was once again forcibly servicing the two strangers at once.

In an instant the tears, whimpers and pleading had turned to utter defiance. Darren had left her mouth and moved behind her. “No, no, not my fucking arse!” She cried in pure fury now, as she felt Darren place his tip against her shitter. “No-one – repeat no-one ever touches my arse!” Mat laughed. “They fucking do now.” “No! Not my aaaarrressseee,” the word turned into a scream has Mat thrust forward, his cock forcing itself forward, slowly but surely, relentlessly tearing open the tight, tight hole, even as Darren’s cock continued to thrust upwards into her young cunt.

She was really distraught now and both men knew she’d been telling the truth – that super-tight arse really was usually a cock free zone and this was hurting! Mat watched her face as Darren thrust in and out of her shit-hole. Which was worse, he wondered, the pain or the fear? The face betrayed plenty of both as the tears landed on his chest. He yanked her face down by her hair and licked the tears off her cheeks while thrusting up into her pussy. It was almost over. Mat saw the look of sheer ecstasy of Darren’s face as he unloaded his balls, thrust by thrust, deep inside her arse as Camilla sobbed in complete defeat. As Mat pulled out, Darren knew he was only seconds away, but he didn’t want to cum in her pussy. Risking inflicting an offspring of his with this slut for a mother was not in his plans. “Get off!” he growled, shoving her and causing to fall to the floor. “Onto your knees!” Moving behind her he dropped to his knees and spent his remaining seconds pummelling her normally cock-free arse which tonight got filled with two loads of cum in as many minutes. Five minutes later the officers left, leaving their victim sobbing to herself on the floor in front of the sofa.

PCs Jennings and Hickman needed all their acting ability when they arrived for their 2pm shift the next day. Their horror at the allegation DCI Cooper told them had been made against them looked real enough. Yes, they understood the DCI had to suspend them while the allegations were looked at. Yes, they were very grateful for the private assurances the DCI gave them that he believed they were innocent. And yes, it was stupid to have gone back and shagged this Camilla bird, but they flattered at her approach and well, they were all single so they didn’t think they’d really done anything terribly wrong. And yes, it of course it was all totally consensual. She’d had a few but was sober enough to say yes and mean it.

Suspended on full pay. They’d have time to hit as many parlours as their dicks could stand. No matter that they didn’t now have warrant cards – their faces were known in every parlour anyway. This was going to be a fun few days. And it was.

It was now a week since their suspension. The parlour whores had serviced them till they could barely walk straight. It was time to get back to work. And time for part 2 of the plan – a bit of redistribution of wealth that would enable them to retire and never again worry about paying the bills.

“What are you doing here?” said a surprised DCI Cooper as they walked into his office. “Don’t get mad,” said Mat. “But Darren and I have been going out of our minds with worry about these allegations. I know we shouldn’t have done, but we went to see her last night.” The DCI spluttered. “You did fucking what?” he shouted. “I know...I know,” said Mat. But we had to try. We had to know why she did it. And it worked.” That made Cooper hesitate. “What do you mean it worked?” Mat pulled the tape out of his pocket and put it into the machine on Cooper’s desk. Play. And there it was. Camilla’s voice: “Why did I make up these rapes? Because you men are all same ....” came the familiar voice, to be followed by more details and the anti-men diatribe, “And you won’t be the last. I’ll do it again given half a chance,” Camilla concluded as Mat hit the stop button. A smile crossed the DCI’s lips. “You were fucking stupid, but you’re right – we’ve got her. We’ll nick her first thing when the head-case is still sleeping off whatever booze she necks tonight.”

Back at the station the when he arrived for his shift the next day, Mat looked through the spy-hole in the cell door. Did he feel just a little guilty? The wreck lying on the filthy police mattress had just seven days ago been a carefree high-society slut, whose biggest problem was the worrying about the latest picture of her in some glossy mag, looking worse for wear with her tits hanging out as she staggered out of a cab or limo. Now she had been raped and buggered in her own home – not once but twice - and instead of receiving sympathetic counselling she was under arrest for perverting the course of justice and was on her way to jail. And now, in the last part of his un-policeman-like plan, he was about to relieve her of a good portion of her wealth. Did he feel guilty? Did he fuck.

“You’ve been through quite an appalling ordeal,” the solicitor told Mat and Darren sympathetically. “And I’m sure any jury would agree. The fact that her actions were clearly premeditated, that she has expressed no remorse and that she even wanted to do it again, plus the fact that you are respected upstanding police officers, makes this one of the most serious libel cases I have seen. Juries can be unpredictable but I’d be stunned if they awarded you less than a quarter of a million each, probably a lot more, in view of her huge wealth. A smaller award really wouldn’t be considered sufficiently punitive.”

It was a happy Mat and Darren that left the lawyer’s office in the knowledge that, in the not too distant future, they would get the best part of ten years’ salary in one day. Time to celebrate. “Fancy spit-roasting that new whore at Blue Nights?” suggested Darren. “Yes, but only if I cum up her arse first this time, I don’t want your messy leftovers like I had at Camilla’s.” It was a deal.

[RapeLordUK]

I love a HOT story with a Happy ending!

[paspart]

I was first thinking that a police copper would get raped, that could have been really hot too? I think you had a good length of the story. very well written, thanks! dont stop writing