Pam-Ann (20 page)

Eyes watering, she clutched her
tit and stepped back to her place beside Persephone. The blonde was
quivering like a doe about to take flight. Pam shivered too, along
with the other slaves. What would happen to
them
if the two
women were arrested and convicted? Her assumption that power and
wealth were more important than gender was clearly wrong in a
situation like this.

While the younger cop blocked
the alley’s entrance the sergeant went to the bodyguards. “Drop the
gun belts,” he ordered, and grinned when they quickly complied.
“Now your pants.” Neither girl hesitated to unfasten her leather
trousers and push them down. “Both sets.” Their brief, thong-like
panties joined the trousers around their ankles. “Face the wall and
lean against it, and I want those feet well back.”

With their dropped trousers
impeding their movements the bodyguards shuffled into position,
their bare bottoms sticking rearwards.

“Now there’s a couple of nice
big asses, Murphy. Real tight too,” the sergeant said and pushed
his nightstick between Eve’s thighs. “Legs wider. You stay like
that or you’ll end up on the same charge as your employer.”

The bodyguards exchanged glances
and Pam saw relief flood Eve’s anxious face. A second later it
grimaced in pain as the cop smacked his stick onto her ass and then
that of the other girl.

“Face the wall, I said. You
slaves, get your hands behind your necks and keep them there.” When
the tall brunette failed to obey, he leaned closer, saw her wrists
locked to her corset, and looked a question at Miranda.

“She… she’s That Kind,” she said
hoarsely. “I have to chain her to stop her….”

The cop grinned. “Yeah, I get
it. That Kind don’t come cheap. I guess you really are the rich
bitches I took you for.” He plucked Miranda’s purse from her hand
and poked around inside. “Yeah, a rich bitch for sure, but a
foolish one too.” He withdrew a wad of bills and pocketed them,
took Persephone’s purse and did the same with her money. “Okay,
that’s enough to persuade me to listen to your explanation. You’d
better make it good.”

Persephone’s upper lip quivered.
“I… I needed to… to….”

He grinned again as she
faltered. “You needed a piss and all the johns inside were busy so
you came out here. And the others came to hide you from anyone
passing. Didn’t work too good, did it?” He glanced at his companion
and then looked the blonde in the eye. “Not very original. This
isn’t the first time you’ve been caught, is it?”

Persephone hung her head and
gave it a shake.

“How many?”

“Two.”

“I guess you can afford a good
lawyer then. Want to take a chance on a third?”

She shook her head.

“Get stripped, both of you.”

“But I wasn’t....” Miranda shut
up as he turned to her and slapped the nightstick on his palm. The
two mistresses swapped anxious looks and slowly reached for the
fastenings of their blouses.

“Come on,” the cop urged. “You
can do it here or when I’ve charged you down at the precinct. It
makes no difference to me.”

All hesitancy vanished. Their
clothes quickly landed on the dusty ground. Naked but for their
shoes and jewels, they regarded him warily, cheeks flushing
red.

“That’s a nice set of tits,” he
remarked, eyeing Miranda’s jutting, up-tilted globes before
lowering his gaze to the coppery triangle of hair at the apex of
her tightly closed thighs. He pried them apart with the tip of his
nightstick and rubbed the wooden baton back and forth over the
fleshy crescents of the lips between. She gasped and blushed a
deeper shade of red. Persephone hissed when he pulled her nipple
clip free and then squeezed each of her small breasts in turn after
he had slipped it into his pocket. “Hard as apples, Murphy. I’ll
bet they’re sweet as apples too, eh, missy? Feet apart.”

Breathing hard, the blonde
stared at him with wide, shining eyes and shuffled her feet wider.
The sergeant rubbed his nightstick on the swollen pout of her sex.
She gave a breathy sigh and her eyelids fluttered. The cops
laughed. Beside Pam, the brunette slave groaned softly. The older
cop withdrew the stick and ordered the two women to the door at the
end of the alley, about twenty feet from where the others were
lined against the wall.

“Hunker down there,” he said.
“Backs to the door and keep your knees apart if you don’t want my
nightstick across your asses.” When they complied he stood over
them, looking at their exposed sexes for several seconds. “Okay,
you came here to piss, so that’s what you’re gonna do.” He chuckled
at their shocked expressions. “One of you is going to walk away
still a Freewoman. Which one is up to you. When I tell you, you’re
both gonna let go. The one who pisses furthest gets to leave.
Simple as that.” The cop backed away to stand next to his
colleague. “Go!”

Nothing happened. The squatting
girls were staring in obvious disbelief, but the significance of
the sergeant’s words must have dawned on them both at the same
time. Persephone’s expression became one of intense concentration a
split second before the strain showed on Miranda’s face. They both
let go together, streams of glittering urine spurting
simultaneously and arcing upwards to splash the ground of the dirty
alley a good ten feet in front of them.

Pam looked from the pissing
girls to the grinning cops and closed her eyes, cringing inwardly.
But she could still hear the squirt and spatter of piss and all too
clearly imagine the two girls straining desperately to force their
flows the extra few inches that meant the difference between
freedom and the hideous brutality of a hundred lashes. It was too
tempting to see which one would win. Pam opened her eyes.

The twin streams slackened, fell
away to a trickle and then stopped. Two pairs of wide, anxious eyes
watched the sergeant step forward to examine the wet stains on the
ground. Pam found she was holding her breath. Was Miranda’s
marginally further? As the cop looked down, the brunette girl
beside Pam suddenly sprayed her own stream of urine across the
ground directly in front of him.

He jumped back as it beaded the
toes of his shoes. “What the hell? Is this bitch crazy? Come here,
you two.”

Carefully avoiding the tracks
their piss had made, Miranda and Persephone approached the
sergeant. They were both quivering. He waited for the slave girl’s
flow to end before bending to examine the stains, obscured now by
those she had created. With a quizzical glance in her direction he
straightened up and shrugged.

“I guess we’ll never know. Back
against the wall. Hands behind your necks. Come on; get your elbows
back. Stick those tits out.” He poked the end of his stick into the
round fullness of Miranda’s left breast. “Ever had a real cock in
that Sapphic snatch of yours?”

She looked horrified.

“Well?” He poked her right
breast.

“Ow! Yes, yes, of course.”

“Yes what?”

She shook her head, close to
tears. “I… don’t understand.”

He held up a thumb and
forefinger with a tiny gap between them. “You’re this far from a
flogging and slavery. What do you think you should call me?”

Miranda swallowed. “Sir? No, not
Sir, M… Master.” She was scarlet from her hairline to the tops of
her breasts.

“How about you little tits?”

Persephone shivered. “Yes, M…
Master, I’ve had cocks in me too.”

He raised an eyebrow at her
flushed face and glittering eyes and began loosening the pistol
belt around his waist. Laying it aside, he unbuttoned his frock
coat. “Maybe a couple more will be enough to straighten you out,
then. What do you think, big tits?”

Miranda took a long, shuddering
breath. “I… yes, M… Master.”

“Yes, Master,” Persephone said,
as he switched his gaze to her while unbuckling the belt on his
trousers.

“Good answers.” He slid the belt
free and doubled it in his right hand. “First you’re gonna get a
taste of how the leather feels, and maybe you’ll think twice before
you try anything this stupid again. You first, big tits. Get over
to the opposite wall and lean your hands against it.”

“Oh, no!” Miranda clasped a hand
before her breasts, a stricken look on her face.

“Wanna come down town with
Murphy and me?”

She hurried to the wall and
rested her palms on the brickwork.

“Get your ass higher,” the cop
ordered, and she wailed as she slid her hands down the wall until
her large breasts swung heavily beneath her and her bottom rose and
stuck out more. He looked at Persephone. “You better watch this,
missy, because you’re getting the same.”

Pam’s glance showed the blonde’s
glittering gaze was riveted to her friend’s rearward-jutting
buttocks. Her own bottom tightened, clamping her rear knot around
the intruder filling her. A wriggle ran through her stretching
membranes and, to her astonishment, all the way to her sex. Beside
her the brunette panted. For a second the only other sound was the
rasp of Miranda’s breath as she shivered in awestruck expectation
of the first blow.

The sergeant swung the belt. It
struck flesh with a crack like a pistol shot and the redhead’s
tautly stretched buttocks seemed to vibrate under the impact as she
gave a strangled cry and shook her ass from side to side. A broad
pink line appeared on her trembling, pale-skinned cheeks, quickly
followed by another from the second stroke the cop laid across it.
Miranda’s rear bounced and the lines turned scarlet as his arm rose
and fell rapidly. She squirmed frantically and the note of anguish
in her cries rose higher with each smack and thud the leather made.
Every blow landed across the centre of her rear cheeks except the
last. The sergeant lashed it lower, where thighs and buttocks met
and the twin swells of her pussy-lips peeped out. Miranda howled
and shot upright, rubbing both hands to her torment. Despite their
presence, the cop somehow managed to land a backhanded smack in
almost the same spot. She howled again and danced on her toes.

“Nobody told you to move, you
sassy bitch. Stay put or I’ll start over.” He waved the belt at
Persephone. “Your turn.”

She dashed across the alley,
pressed her hands low against the wall and arched her back to lift
her narrow bottom. The sergeant swapped a broad grin with Murphy
and peered at the fading stripes that still decorated the blonde’s
buttocks from when Tania had caned them on the airship.

“Well, what d’ya’ know?” He
lashed the belt down hard.

As the leather landed with a
fierce crack, Pam tried to ignore the groan of the slave next to
her and fought against the memories. Rick had used his belt,
flicking it over breasts and belly and thighs as well as her
bottom, its sharp, fiery impacts teasing her towards arousal and
preparing her for the deeper, more intense pain to come. Cruelly
playful was how she had always thought of it, and all the more
exciting because she knew it had aroused Rick as well as herself. A
long tremor ran the length of her sheath. She shook her head in a
futile attempt to drive the thoughts away.

The belt cracked a final time.
Persephone gave a long
, shuddering groan, wiggled
her hips and made no effort to reach back to her hurts as
Miranda had done, though her bottom was shining as redly as the
other girl’s. The sergeant stood behind her and unbuttoned his
trousers. His partner was doing the same. Fresh quivers plagued Pam
as she saw the men’s erections. Again she remembered, but it was
not images of Rick that suddenly made her dew bathe the tingling
membranes of her pussy. What she recalled was Drake’s rearing cock
and how it had felt between her lips. Her gut churned as she
watched the sergeant position himself, grasp his shaft behind its
broad head and press it to the rearward-pouting lips of
Persephone’s pussy. They yielded to the hard flesh and Pam’s sex
quivered maddeningly. The brunette slave groaned again and pressed
her thighs together, pulling against the leather bands around her
wrists. Murphy filled Miranda with equal ease and began slowly
slapping his belly against her redly glowing backside. She gasped
and whimpered as loudly as Persephone was doing under the
sergeant’s thrusts.

“Hell, she’s got a grip like a
clenched fist,” Murphy said, in mixed surprise and admiration.

“This one two. Must be all those
rubber dicks they like taking.” The sergeant lunged hard enough to
rock Persephone onto the balls of her feet. “You enjoying having
some real cock for a change, missy?”

“Ooh! Oh! Yes, Master,” she said
breathlessly.

“Then shake your ass and show me
how much, you dirty bitch.”

She began thrusting backwards to
meet his plunging cock, and at the same time making little circular
motions of her hips.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Hell, it’s
good. Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Wish my old lady could,” Murphy
said tightly, as Miranda did the same to him.

The two men took them harder and
faster after that, silent but for their grunts and sighs and the
rasp of their rapid breathing. They paused long enough to ‘swap
snatches’, as the sergeant put it, and continued for several
minutes without showing signs of flagging. Pam only half-saw it,
floundering amidst the memories of the sight and touch and taste of
Rafael Drake. Why had he kissed her?

“Ooh! Coming! I’m coming!”
Persephone’s hips writhed so much she almost fell. The cop gripped
her tighter and continued thrusting. Seconds later Miranda also
gave all the signs of having an enthusiastic climax and was joined
by the trembling brunette slave, who shuddered and cooed
ecstatically and filled the air around them all with the pungent
aroma of her girl-musk. Pam shivered too, nervous, worried, alarmed
by the heat spreading through her and the tremors low in her belly.
God, was this what taking too much of that awful Venus Dust did to
a girl?