The following is a fantasy of nonconsensual sex. The author wishes to stress that any act without full prior consent is rape, and should be punished to the fullest extent of the law. This is my fantasy, if you are disturbed by scenes of policewoman being abused by prisoners, then stop reading now.
The prosecution of the Butcher brothers, the notorious pimps that had been behind the last six years worth of kidnapping of university girls. The girls had emerged months after their capture, in other provinces or in the United States, even Asia, stripping and hooking in clubs owned by the Butcher Brothers or their affiliated gangs.
Each girl confirmed they had been kidnapped by Jonathan, Jarrod, and Jamie, and kept for them for a week before they were sold to bike gangs or traded to drug cartels in exchange for cooperation with their drug, gun, and money laundering schemes.
The problem came when the girls were asked to testify about their rape and trafficking into prostitution. Each girl, whom had been scholarship students at the local university, each in the top ten percent of the student population for intelligence as well as beauty, refused to testify against the Butcher brothers for rape or kidnapping.
Again and again, they pleaded with investigators "Not to punish Sirs for instructing us as to our natural and proper use as whores. We didn't deserve their instruction and offering them the money we make can't even begin to pay the debt to Sirs for teaching us our place."
Lt Jessica Holstein had been working vice for years, working her way off the hooker stroll where her tight ass and DD breasts placed her for far too long, half for her ability to get Johns to lose all sense of self preservation when bidding for her services, and half because every man in the department wanted to see her dressed like street meat.
In recent years she had been able to lead her own investigations and gone swiftly after the men behind the sex trafficking, rather than punishing the girls and the end users, she went after the groomers. She knew all the tricks, the beatings, the drugs, and how to undo the psychological damage. No woman wanted to be a prostitute, but brutalized badly enough, she might convince herself to pretend to, if only to make the beatings stop.
The drug scans came back negative, the girls were clean. Any medical tests she could do failed to show any evidence of bone breaks not consistent with the competitive sports careers and documented injuries that won half of the girls the scholarships they had won. None of their accounts listed beatings, starvation, or threats of serious violence. How were the Butcher brothers taking smart, strong, motivated and proud over achievers and reducing them to not only willing, but eager prostitutes who refused to testify against their abusers. Indeed, they were all offering cooperation only if they were granted conjugal visits with the abusers who sold them into sexual slavery.
Jessica had to know what the Butchers were using. Some untestable drug? Some hypnotic conditioning? A form of torture that left no permanent marks? The Butchers were going down for the drug trafficking, the guns, the money laundering, but what she needed from them was the missing piece; how were they grooming girls with the whole world at their feet to give it up to be street walking whores.
There was no alternative. Jessica would have to question the pond scum herself. They were used to holding all the power with women. It was time to see how they performed when a strong feminist woman held the power over them.
Jessica decided to put on her dress uniform for this interrogation. She could have worn plain clothes like the Crown Attorneys who had come and tried to alternately bribe or threaten each of the brothers to turn on the rest, or their suppliers. Following in the line of losers was a great way to join them. Likewise, the tac armoured thugs had had their chance, but the fact each interrogation was filmed meant the Butcher brothers knew any actual violence would result in their walking free of all charges, so that symbolic power had been robbed of its punch as well.
No, Jessica Holstein would use her dress uniform. Tailored to within an inch of legality, it was the outfit the department loved her to use when dealing with the press. It hugged and almost seemed to melt to her curves, from her washboard flat stomach to her 38DD breasts, the heavy gold detective shield drew every eye to her breast and coincidentally the over sized name tag so no one could forget who she was talking to.
Her choice to wear skirt and heels, something she had initially fought against for the press speaking engagements was all about emphasizing her femininity and power both. The heels were the limit of regulation at four inches, and made her already toned legs look even better, while popping her bubble butt into fabric threatening relief against the tailored dress blue skirt. Her choice to use stockings drew every eye to her skirt when she walked, as her stocking tops flashed at the skirts slit with each long bold stride.
Let these two-bit pimps see a real woman in the fullness of her power. Not pretending to be a man, hiding behind a suit, or behind body armour. Let them deal with her authority, without hiding behind the threat of violence everyone knew she was not empowered to deliver. They were in her power, and it was time they understood that.
Looking at the officers in the holding area, she felt their eyes washing over her rich curves and sneered. These were the scum of the service, those whose pathetic physique, questionable ethics, and even more dubious ability made useless for any form of front-line service. Looking after the prisoners in lockup was about the only use of them, and that was marginal.
"I want all three of the Butcher brothers into the special interrogation room. One at each table." Jessica ordered coolly.
The special interrogation room had three side by side tables with electronic shackles in the table middle. The locks were controlled from outside, being electronic, and fastened gently but firmly to hold the subject's wrists in place on the table, and kept the prisoner facing forward towards the interrogator.
There was no glass between them, no divide, and the prisoner's helplessness was meant to reenforce the power of the one free to get up and move around. It was a tool of psychological dominance.
The fat guard, Sgt Stallings, typed the orders into his computer, then looked up at the hot Lt. "Well ma'am, how many of my boys are you going to want in the room to keep them docile. These boys have all done some damage here in lockup. Some gang rivals tried taking the Butcher's down a peg, and most of them ended up in the hospital."
Lt Jessica Holstien sneered at the slovenly, openly drooling holding cell guards and let her contempt drip off her reply. "I don't need any men to help me keep those boys in line. It may take a dozen of you to keep three of them in line, but you will find one woman can handle all three of them."
