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WARNING:
This fictional story might contain graphic depictions of some or all of the following: bondage, nudity, sexuality, slavery, rape and other violence. If you find any of these elements offensive and/or are not an adult, then do NOT read this story.
Please respect the author and do not:
...re-post this story without giving full credit to Finality and linking to http://finalityart.blogspot.com;
...modify this story in any way;
...use this story for any commercial purposes whatsoever.
Thanks for reading!
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Andrea's Arrest
by Finality
I stand across the street as they bring her out of the house. Barefoot, wearing tight jeans, sunglasses on top of her head and a flowery, dark green button-up that exposes her belly, she smiles nervously as she chats with the enforcer gripping her right arm. But this smile quickly changes to a grimace when they step off of her grassy lawn, onto the hot asphalt, for a perp-walk toward a flashing police cruiser.
Her name is Andrea, and she's 29. I've spoken with her often enough to know that much. She's lived here for the last couple of years, and I have never see anything like a law enforcement presence at her home. Actually, she's been a really quiet neighbor, in a really quiet neighborhood, so this midday wrath from the local authorities is a shock to the system, to say the least. Their armored uniforms are emblazoned with the city seal and identify them in bold print as "PROBATION," so I can only assume their current prey did something a while ago, then recently violated her release conditions in some way.
With her hands cuffed behind her back, Andrea is placed across the trunk of a police car, forced to lean over and spread her legs while a glove-wearing female officer slowly confiscates her bracelets, earrings, and a silver hoop in her navel. This is a lengthy process, as the officer has trouble operating the small clasps through gloved fingertips, forcing the detainee to hold an uncomfortable pose for several minutes. Twice, I hear Andrea say, "This is ridiculous," and I have to agree. Why don't they just temporarily take off the cuffs, so she can remove the jewelry herself? She isn't combative, and partially turned-out pockets suggest she's already been checked for weapons. Even assuming that they have a justifiable reason for dragging her out of her home like this, the cops are still making it far harder than it has to be.
When the officer has collected everything, it all goes into a plastic bag.
They finally allow the poor suspect to stand upright, but things only get worse as the same female cop unbuttons Andrea's jeans and pulls them all the way down. As one who has noticed Andrea performing yard work in shorts before, I know that she has nice legs, and I would scarcely turn down a chance to look at them, but even I am a bit uncomfortable as she is stripped forcefully here.
Next, the cop slips those gloved fingers into the waist of Andrea's white panties.
I hear Andrea beg, "Please don't."
But the underwear goes down, and then two males hold her arms as she steps out of her lower clothing. There are tears on her face now, and I'm torn between turning away and continuing to gawk in fascination.
She has a nice bikini line, with just a thin strip of pubic hair in the center of her crotch. Her ass is soft, her hips generous, and I realize I'm kind of witnessing the fulfillment of a fantasy here, except for the fact that she's crying, pressing her legs together and bending her knees, trying to hide. No, that has never been part of the fantasy. This is just cruel.
She is becoming distressed now, so the cops get a bit rougher and pick up the pace. Her green shirt is torn open from top to bottom by the female, and then one of the men cuts it away with scissors. The straps of her bra are snipped, too, and then its clasp is released in the back. Modest breasts swing free, and Andrea is now in full protect mode, hunched over, dropping into a half-crouch in a desperate bid to close her legs.
The enforcers take no pity and make her stand up straight, and she obeys with a loud sob and another plea to be left alone. With her eyes closed, she thrusts her breasts out on command, and the female officer snaps another set of handcuffs on her elbows, cranking her shoulders back. Short leg shackles are closed on her ankles as well, and a belly chain is cinched around her and padlocked to the cuffs on her wrists.
Despite having seen this on television lots of times, I am still dismayed. Andrea is such a sweet girl. Why are they doing this to her?
They finally turn her away from the trunk. Forced to face the female officer who has been tormenting her, Andrea submits to the final indignations as clamps are placed on her nipples for pain compliance. Unable to hunch with her elbows cuffed, she screams and bends at the waist instead. This is a terrible decision, as the officer merely seizes the chain now hanging between Andrea's breasts, and pulls up on it. Instantly, eyes wide and mouth frozen, Andrea shoots back upright and rises onto her tiptoes.
"Please stop!" she cries. "Oh god, stop!"
"Stop struggling," the officer replies.
"Oh god, it hurts. Please take them off. Please....mmmmph!"
She is cut off as a large red ball is shoved into her mouth. It fits behind her teeth, and she immediately begins to drool. One of the male cops takes the attached strap and buckles it tightly behind her head.
"Get her out of here," the woman commands.
Taking the prisoner's arms again, the men lead a now very naked and helpless Andrea away from the back of the car. She can barely walk in the shackles, able to take only tiny steps. The chain between her nipples shakes with each movement, and she bares her teeth around the gag in discomfort. She offers urgent, muffled moans for mercy, but nobody cares.
They stuff her into the backseat and tie her down, placing straps around her tits in addition to the regular seatbelt, and locking her shackles to an anchor on the floorboard. Leather cuffs are wrapped around her thighs while she sits, and a metal bar is placed between them, forcing her knees apart.
Andrea at last leans against the headrest and goes limp, still weeping but apparently now resigned to her fate.
One of the men reaches up to check her gag one more time, then the door closes on her frightened face.
Andrea's gaze drifts to the side, and her wet eyes find mine as I watch her humiliation from my front yard. I want to help. I want to run over and say something, to tell her she'll be okay. But I find myself lacking the balls for such a noble deed, and I don't know if any of my soothing platitudes would be true anyway.
Moments later, the lady cop climbs behind the wheel, and she takes Andrea away.
