Joe Doe Spinoff - Game On!
The police cruiser made its way down the main street. It gleamed in the midday sun, every inch of it polished to perfection by beautiful women who had run foul of the law and been forced into hard labour. The local truckstop was famous for its multitude of services: not just the usual gas and burger joint, it featured full auto services, blue-ribbon dining, and of course, adult entertainment. Staffed by ladies from the prison farm, it was a den of iniquity where all the women were available for the right price. So while those working shifts in the parking lot received most of the action, even the young ladies who waited tables were expected to perform sexual acts on demand.
Which made the report forwarded to the Sheriff by the station frankly baffling. There was, (supposedly,) a streetwalker touting her goods in plain sight. This made no sense for two reasons. Firstly, the truckstop was famous for the beauty of its women and the low prices charged. Secondly, every woman in the tri-state area knew what kind of treatment they would get in Stripsearch County, and none would be dumb enough to break the law so brazenly, less than a mile from the Sheriff's headquarters. It was a certainty that the arrest of any attractive woman would be followed by a humiliating strip and cavity search in the front room of the station, eagerly watched by locals through the window that made up the entire front wall of the search room. The ordeal didn't end there either - after being stripped, spread wide in the stirrups and thoroughly probed by gloved fingers, the blushing beauty would be sent to the farm for a couple of months of hard labour - and hard cock. Pulling tricks in Stripsearch county was guaranteed to result in pulling many more down at the truckstop - for which the luckless lass would receive no pay except her hard prison mattress and bland prison food. It was simply astounding that any hooker would put herself in that position, and the Sheriff was consumed with curiosity.
He spotted her soon enough, tall and slender, waist-length blonde hair that swayed seductively in the breeze. Her body was a work of art, and her shameless outfit showed it off to full advantage. A white tube-top clung to her B-cup breasts, and she wore a pair of blue denim shorts - except the term could barely be applied to the garment now. The legs had been cut off so that it was now barely more than a bikini bottom, showing almost her entire backside. The deliciously firm and round buttocks gyrated hypnotizingly as she shook her ass from side to side, while smiling at every man who turned his head to look.
There was something strangely familiar about her though... As he got closer, he was sure that he knew her already. When he came to a stop only a few yards away, it finally dawned on him.
It was Ashley Marsh!
Ashley and the Sheriff had a long history. She was a regular visitor to Stripsearch County, and and almost as regular prisoner down on the farm. Beautiful and accomplished, she was high-class pussy that none of the local men could dream of having - if not for her forced prostitution. He had a special fondness for her, not just because of her earning potential, but because she "played the game".
Merely being attractive put a woman in the Sheriff's sights. Being one who actively opposed him legally, as she had on several occasion, made her a prize trophy. He had long suspected that she enjoyed the treatment she got at his hands - the public nudity, the sting of leather across her perfect posterior, and of course the shameful orgasms that came with her cavity searches. At their last encounter she had confirmed this, making the surprising confession that she played the game with the intent of losing.
It wasn't entirely a surprise. The Sheriff knew that the more educated and classy a woman was, the more she craved rough trade. And she would get plenty down at the truckstop. But still, posing as a hooker didn't make sense. It wasn't the cat and mouse ritual that they normally engaged in, with her at least pretending to try and conduct her business without ending up naked and on display. Standing on the main street like this made her a sitting duck - she might as well have walked into his station and put herself in the stirrups. So what was going on?
Ashley appeared unconcerned as he stopped the cruiser and climbed out. He looked her up and down in amazement. The outline of her small, firm nipples showed through the thin fabric of her tube-top. Her shorts were a size too small, so tight around her hips that they couldn't be buttoned up, and the zipper was halfway down, revealing the small triangle of the white thong that circled her slim waist. A pair of black high heels completed the outfit, and she looked every inch a whore.
"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing young lady?" he demanded.
"Waiting for business," she replied nonchalantly.
"You know there ain't no whoring 'round here unless it's in a licensed venue!" he declared. "I knew you liked working the truckstop, but why in the hell are you doing this? Especially when you know what it's going to get you."
Ashley shrugged. "There's a new batch of seniors who need breaking in. I wouldn't want to disappoint them."
For any boy who hadn't managed to get laid before he turned eighteen, visiting the truckstop was a rite of passage. Ashley was by far the most coveted of the working girls, and some of the young men saved themselves for her, holding off their first time until she had been forced into service. Of course, these incels were the less attractive, nerdy, often overweight types, and they seldom lasted long enough inside her to give her satisfaction. But nonetheless, she got a thrill out of taking their virginity. She knew that she was the best piece of ass they would ever have. They would remember her forever, and no other woman that they managed to score with would ever match her beauty. She would be their first and best, a fantasy that they would pursue (unsuccessfully,) for the rest of their lives. So while she gave them a few minutes of absolute bliss, she also doomed them to perpetual frustration. Spreading her legs for them was not the submissive action they thought it was - she was actually condemning them to a lifetime of disappointment.
"Oh don't worry, you'll get plenty of action. This little stunt is three months, guaranteed. And word soon gets around that you're on the menu. The menfolk round here are going to run a train on your sweet little ass!"
Ashley shivered with delight at the thought, imagining herself bent over the hood of a car, legs spread wide as she was taken by one man after another. A shame it wasn't actually going to happen this time...
"But first things first. Just wait a sec while I get Betsy." He reached into the car.
"Old Betsy" was the name given to the leather strap he used on pretty prisoners. Ashley had been on the receiving end several times, and she felt her stomach turn with anticipation as he brandished it. This was going to hurt...
"Time for some attitude adjustment! he smirked. "Turn around and drop those drawers honey!"
Ashley feigned nonchalance as she obeyed, peeling down her shorts and thong in one motion. Spreading her legs as wide as the tight garment would allow, she bent double and grasped her ankles. "Give it to me big boy!" she demanded with a confidence that she definitely did not feel. She shivered again as the supple leather brushed over her bare skin.
By now the handful of men in the vicinity had gathered to watch, and she heard whistles and lewd remarks as they admired the view.
"Nice holes sweetie!"
"Great ass babe!"
Their compliments were well-deserved. Ashley's buttocks were toned to perfection, lightly tanned skin stretched tight over her firm globes. Her pussy was a mere crease down the centre of her pubic mound, her inner lips hidden. Her asshole was a tiny rosebud no bigger than a fingertip, pale pink thanks to bleaching. She looked as though she was offering herself up for some hard cock, and she wiggled her hips in apparent invitation.
Unfortunately for the lovely lawyer, it was Betsy who made herself acquainted with the beautiful bottom.
WHACK!
"Ah!" Ashley panted. "Is that the best you've got?"
WHACK!
"Oooh!"
"Don't give me lip girl! I'm going to spank the sass out of you!"
It was true, and she knew it. No matter how brave a face she put on, Betsy would eventually wear her down until she yelled, cried and sobbed. It was only a question of how many licks it would take.
WHACK!
"Mmmmph!" she grunted, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her yell. "Just like old times, isn't it Sheriff?" She had to get him talking, she wasn't going through this for nothing...
"Sure is!" he replied smugly. "You remember our first encounter?"
How could I forget? She thought. It had been shortly after she had helped her friend Terri London interview several women at the local jail, to hear about their treatment and forced sexual servitude. She had returned to Stripsearch County at the request of a women's rights group who wanted her to file a lawsuit against the prison farm. Taking the assignment had been a lifechanging experience.
She had spent only a few minutes within the town limits before the Sheriff had pulled her over for speeding. The fact that the sign that announced the 20 mile-per-hour limit was obscured by a large bush had not been accepted as an excuse, and to her shock she was swiftly cuffed and taken down to the station for "reckless driving."
It was then that she got to experience first-hand what it was like to be the Sheriff's prisoner, (though in truth, "plaything" would have been a more accurate description.) Standing in the front room before the dreaded gyno table that faced the window and crowd of delighted men outside, she had indignantly refused the order to strip. The act of defiance had cost her dearly. The Sheriff wasted no time in deputising two of the onlookers, and she was swiftly bent over the reception desk. Her skirt was flipped up, her black-lace panties pulled down, and her tender little tushy had been given a butt-blistering whipping. After the first dozen swats she had been bawling her eyes out and shrieking in pain. After the next dozen she had realised that there was only one way to make him stop.
"I'll do it!" she screamed. "I - I'll strip! "I'l get on the t-table!"
"Well now, that's a sudden change of attitude," Sheriff had responded. "A few minutes ago you were too high and mighty to undress in front of these good folk."
"I w-was wrong! I made a m-mistake!"
"You sure did!" he gloated. "So now you're ready to behave?"
"Yes sir!"
"And you WANT to show us the goods, don't you?"
She knew she was being manoeuvred into playing his game, but with her ass on fire and swollen to what felt like twice it's normal size, she had given in immediately. "Yes sir, I w-want t-to strip for you! I want to show you everything!"
"And I bet you're keen to get on that table too! I bet you want a nice, long search for the entertainment of these fine gentlemen out there."
"Y-yes sir! Spread me wide and probe me deep!"
From that moment on, she had known who truly was the law in Stripsearch County. She had obediently disrobed, posed in several obscene positions at his command, and meekly climbed onto the table for her search.
"All it took was a good spanking to teach you who's boss around here," he mused as he took aim for another swat.
WHACK! The leather made her buttocks jiggle with the impact.
"Gaaahh!" Ashley moaned.
"That first strapping took you down a few notches didn't it? You didn't give me any more lip after that."
It was true. From then on she had been meek and submissive as her body was invaded like never before. He had taken her at her word, opening the stirrups wider than usual and giving her a long, deep, exhaustively thorough search, just as she has asked for. But even her exposure and violation had not been the end of the humiliating ordeal. To her shame (and astonishment,) he had made her cum twice, with first the vaginal, then anal search. "Women love to be treated like this," he told his audience. "Especially high-class broads. They secretly crave for some rough trade. Ain't that right missy?"
Utterly demoralised and with her ass still burning, Ashley had agreed. "Yes Sheriff, we just love to be treated like sluts."
"Of course you do! And you'll get plenty of good lovin' down at the truckstop."
Her blood ran cold at the thought. She was going to be forced into prostitution! To sell herself like a common whore! But she knew better than to protest.
Once he'd finished with Ashley's search, the Sheriff had left her in the stirrups to the ogling men could take turns having their picture taken with her (for a small fee of course,) as though she was some kind of big-game trophy. Under threat of another session with Betsy, she had managed to fake her best cover-girl smile for each one, her tear-streaked face beaming with apparent joy as she was photographed with wide-open legs and holes that glistened with lubricant.
That had been bad enough, but once she was sent to the farm she learned what true degradation was. After she failed to meet her quota for her first shift at the truckstop, (returning with only thirty dollars for the half-dozen blowjobs she had forced herself to give,) she had been strapped to the punishment block and given a harsh paddling. With her ass still bruised and swollen from the strapping the Sheriff had given her, the punishment was nothing short of torture. She had screamed until her throat was raw, and cried herself to sleep that night. The next day she was a new woman. She abandoned all pride and modesty, shamelessly flaunting her body and taking every customer who came her way.
The warden wasted no opportunity to make an easy dollar, and for a modest fee the local men got to "play doctor" and stick a large nozzle up her tight little backdoor to flush her out with soapy water so she would be nice and clean for her customers. Normally enemas were administered ice-cold, but Ashley had soon learned that a free blowjob would earn her a nice warm one, and she had even begun to enjoy them. But despite always exceeding her earnings quota, she lived in constant fear of the punishment block and the wooden paddle. Visitors could pay to punish a prisoner, and she was regularly strapped down receive a dozen sizzling swats on her perfect posterior. For an extra fee, they could pull on the rubber gloves and search her holes as she squirmed helplessly, held down by leather straps.
It wasn't long before she was joined by Terri. The plucky reporter had deliberately walked into the Sheriff's office and set herself up for a search in order to relate her first-hand experience for her story. Like Ashley, she got more than she bargained for and was sent to the farm. Judge Feilds had been a surprising addition to the crew of working girls, having herself fallen into the clutches of the cunning Sheriff. With their beautiful bottoms paying the price for any defiance, they soon fell into line. Their lesbian threesomes at the strip club were a tremendous hit with the locals, but it was at the truckstop that they truly shone. The warden had upped the ante by declaring that whoever came back with the least cash would get another dose of the paddle. This forced them into heated competition, each shift leaving them exhausted and thoroughly fucked. Eventually they had decide to simply take turns being the lowest earner, resulting in each one being paddled twice a week. Consequently, the delectable derrieres that they were forced to sell were always varying shades of red or purple, but fortunately this had not cooled the ardour of their many, many customers.
By the time they were released to resume their old lives they were changed women. They still had their careers, (despite the mockery of their colleagues, who were well-aware of what had happened,) they still had their looks and their excellent qualifications, but all had taken more cock than they had ever believed possible. It was impossible to see themselves the same way as they had before. All of them had been whores. And all of them had, eventually, learned to enjoy it. All of them had discovered that the Sheriff was right: deep down, they craved to be used and humbled.
WHACK! Another swat broke Ashley out of her reverie.
"Yee-ouch!" she gasped, her voice betraying the fact that she had started to really feel the burn. She heard chuckles from the audience.
"That's getting through to her!"
"Learning some manners now girl?"
"And you earned me a pretty penny at the truckstop," Sheriff continued. "You and your fancy-pants friends."
Now we're getting there! She thought grimly. "Yes, we did," she replied. "We shook our asses and sold our holes."
WHACK!
"Eee-yoww!" her cry of pain was louder this time. (More chuckles and sniggers.)
"But that wasn't the end of our fun, was it? You just keep coming back here. The football team still talks about the time you tried to stop my Jane Doe search."
The local Judge had granted a "Jane Doe" search warrant for the school campus, which the Sheriff had used to round up ten professional women who were present to speak at "Women's Empowerment" seminar. They soon learned how powerless they really were, each forced to strip and kneel on a bench with their legs wide, ready to be searched in front of a delighted crowd. On receiving a frantic call from one of them Ashley had tried to come to their rescue with a restraining order, but this merely prolonged their ordeal, as they were ordered to remain in position while the order was considered by the judge. For an hour they were bums-high and heads-down, staring fearfully at the pair of gloves placed in front of each one of them and wondering how it would feel to have their special places invaded by the Sheriff's big, fat fingers. After the agonising uncertainty of the wait, the decision had been handed down. To Ashley's dismay, the judge had not only upheld the original warrant, but decreed that Ashley also matched the Jane Doe profile, meaning that she had to take her place alongside them!
Their searches had been videotaped, each woman forced to cum not twice but four times, since the Sheriff had deputised a student to perform a second check of each hole. Ashley had knelt at the end of the line, her holes on display, hearing the squeals, gasps, and moans of the others. Unlike them, she was well-acquainted with the feeling of a cavity search, which only increased the dread she felt as she waited her turn. One by one they had stood in front of the camera and read a card that said, "I have consented to my search and suffered no harm." Only after Ashley had been given her searches, complete with her four forced orgasms, were they allowed to dress, having now spent nearly two hours naked. It had been a crushing defeat for Ashley, and her client had fired her immediately afterward.
"So, now here you are, signing yourself up for another tour of duty on the farm. I'm always glad to see you, don't get me wrong, but tell the truth I'm a little disappointed. You didn't play the game this time. You just parked yourself out here. Takes some of the fun out of it."
"Sorry to disappoint you Sheriff."
WHACK!
"AAAaaahh!" Ashley wailed. She wanted this to end, but she still hadn't quite got what she needed. "So, are prices still, the same?" she asked. "Five for a blowjob, ten for pussy, and fifteen for anal?"
"That's right! 'Course, we know you're worth more than that, but the men round here aren't rich. An hour of their work should at least be enough for a blowjob and a beer."
"How much do you get?" Ashley's heart raced. This was the one question she simply HAD to get him to answer. Fortunately he was forthcoming.
"I split it fifty-fifty with the warden. I supply the talent, he runs the show. Been a good earner for both of us."
GOTCHA!
Ashley released her ankles and stood up. Startled, the Sheriff slapped her bruised behind, making her flinch and yelp. "What the hell are you doing? Get back down. It ain't over till I say so."
"Oh, it's over, Sheriff." She turned to face him and rubbed vigorously at her throbbing tushy. Her shorts and thong were still around her thighs, leaving her pussy exposed, but she didn't care. They had seen it all, no point feigning modesty now. The lecherous smiles on the faces of the watching men were compliments as far as she was concerned. And her ass desperately needed some attention.
"You see, I HAVE been playing the game," she told him, her voice somewhat strained. Damn, her ass was BURNING! "But this time, I didn't play it to lose." Her blue eyes sparkled like diamonds.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean Sheriff, is that I'm wearing a wire."
For the first time in many years the Sheriff felt the cold hand of fear grip his heart. He'd been played! The smiles on the crowd turned to confused expressions. What was going on?
"You're the king of this county, thanks to Judge Search'em," Ashley continued. "And even the state authorities won't touch you because you keep the Governor supplied with house-girls. An endless supply of pretty young things to do his laundry, cook his meals, and warm his bed. But you DON'T have an arrangement with the Feds. You thought you were underneath their radar. And you were - until I did a little digging. I always wondered why you set our prices so low," Ashley mused. "Seriously, five for a blowjob? ten for pussy? fifteen for my ass? I could stand on a street corner in any major city and charge ten times as much. Yeah, I know, part of it is the humiliation. You love to see high-class girls like me selling themselves cheap. But what's in it for you? After all, you brag about how your retirement fund is 'built on the backs of cheap sluts' - but how do you build a nest egg when your prices are so low?"
She grinned wickedly. The Sheriff's face was pale now, his brow creased with anxiety and he was starting to sweat.
"It's because you don't pay taxes on what you get from the Farm."
The Sheriff was silent, his mind reeling as his world was falling apart before his eyes.
"I called a friend in the IRS. Your returns are squeaky-clean - except for the bag of cash you deposit in the local bank every week. The account is in your aunt's name - but she's been dead for years. The branch manager turns a blind eye, because he gets his share of pussy too. But once he was threatened with Federal charges for not reporting suspicious transactions, he rolled on you."
"This is bullshit! You're making it up!" the Sheriff stammered. But his words were hollow and his voice trembled.
Ashley laughed scornfully. "Death and taxes, Sheriff. The Treasury took down Al Capone - and you're nothing compared to him. That 'retirement fund' of yours is going to get RICO'd. And you're going to do time."
Two black sedans quietly rolled toward them from opposite ends of the street. Brand new, with out-of-state license plates, they approached with ominous certainty.
"And when they process you, I'll be there." Ashley gloated. "And I'm going to see YOU get a finger up your ass!"
The Sheriff's jaw fell open and he stared at her in horror...
