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Collected by Djian
update march 7 - 2010

Another story by Wolverine

The Two Sisters
by WOLVERINE

This is a story about Britain, where very few police officers carry guns, and very few criminals either except in certain well-known areas. It’s fantasy of course, and I don’t condone actually doing any of the things described here except drinking merlot and smashing electric guitars.

2010

“Yes,” Harriet Gladwell confided to a fellow expatriate as they relaxed in the French early autumn sun, “our two daughters couldn’t have been more different. It’s no great surprise one of them has done really well, almost distinguished really, and as they say, ‘going places’ while the other has frankly been a great disappointment to Henry and myself, not to say an absolute disgrace.” She slowly finished the glass of the local merlot and the talk turned to the wild ideas and insensitive behaviour of impertinent newcomers.

2006

Detective Inspector Victoria Gladwell was irritated. It was not, mainly, the news that the wretched pimp Gordon Kyriacos had escaped conviction on a petty legal technicality, nor the dank, gloomy weather, nor even the persistent itchy niggle where the price tag on her new pair of panties was rubbing against her skin. It was her wretched sister.

Annette was seventeen, just coming up to eighteen, but already she had a record of enough stupid actions to put her future in severe doubt. She was clever, for sure, but had chosen to run away from her expensive girls’ school, to avoid schoolwork and to insult her teachers. Her parents had prevailed on the Headmistress to give her another chance, but instead of being grateful, she had taken part in that appalling attack on the poor Head Girl, who as her reward for catching some girls smoking and reporting them, had ended up with a whistle inserted in her vulva and plugged in with chewing gum, and her prefect’s badge pinned through her right nipple. Expelled and sent in disgrace to a state school, Annette had behaved no better there and been expelled for an assault on a young male teacher. Left to her own devices, she had actually knuckled down to some musical studies – she had vague ambitions of being a pop superstar – and also for a while took up judo, which she was quite good at, but then, just as Mum and Dad were tied up sorting out major building work on their beloved French retirement home, she had got involved with some kids harassing a local vicar, the Reverend Luke Attwood - become their leader as it seemed - and had got herself an Anti Social Behaviour Order which banned her from the town centre and the neighbourhood of the vicar’s church and home.

It was Victoria’s distasteful duty to supervise the ASBO. Not officially, of course, but if the little twerp was not kept under close observation, she would certainly breach it and get in worse trouble. It was threatening Mum and Dad’s happy retirement and even Victoria’s own brilliant career. To deal with that, the older sister had moved out of her cosy little flat and into the family house as her teenage sister’s keeper.

Victoria slid out her strong, athletic legs, rearranged her blonde hair, shifted her rather awkwardly large hindquarters to try to banish the itch and thought about that first unpleasant interview.

Annette’s thin, intense face had screwed up in distaste, maybe even hatred.

“So you’re my jailor. I hope you get off on it!” she grunted. “If you were half normal, you’d be going out with a man, but instead, when you’re not doing your stupid job, you’ll be hanging around leering at me.”

“It’s for your own good, Nettie,” Victoria had said; but the dark-haired, smallish girl had insisted only she could judge what was good for her and her sister was an “interfering do-gooder busybody pig cunt.” Victoria wanted to slap the little horror, but controlled herself.

“My job is for your good and everyone’s,” she insisted. “We protect everyone.”

“Policewomen are all dykes,” Annette replied. “You’re a dyke, aren’t you?” Victoria itched to deny it, but that would play into her sister’s hands. She had no wish to discuss that long relationship with the rising artist Paul Di Napoli or the brief, intense fling with Sergeant Dave Douglas, still less the questions of sexual technique that Annette would surely force into the conversation.

“None of your business!” she replied.

“Guessed you were!” Annette crowed. Deliberately, provocatively, she played with rearranging her hair so that both arms were pushed back and her breasts stuck out, pressing against her plain white t-shirt a size too small for her and making very clear that she wore no bra. “Getting off on my tits are you, sister?” she asked. “There’s a law against people like you. I’m still a minor, remember!” Victoria ignored her provocation and laid down the law about the ASBO and the conditions in which the two of them could coexist while her sister listened sullenly, saying nothing more even when Victoria reminded her that their dear parents had made plain they intended to leave their wealth evenly divided between their two daughters, but might reach a point at which repeated misbehaviour would lead to the miscreant being cut out of their will. The sulky teenager refused to say she agreed to what Victoria said, and the next morning, she made herself breakfast and left the mess for Victoria to clear up. There was a point of principle here: Victoria left the things unwashed. They piled up further and Annette began to live off kebabs and burgers from the Turkish place in the next street.

The two sisters could hardly have been more different. Victoria, blonde, pale and generously proportioned, had a strong sense of dedication to justice and her job, a strong moral sense and considerable ambition. She was by common consent a good cop, brave, intelligent and savvy: to have made Inspector by the age of 27 was truly impressive. Annette, small, wiry but curvy, intense and dark-haired, was abundantly intelligent and creative but hated hard work, order, discipline and “do-gooders”. Victoria was increasingly annoyed with her younger sister. Annette loathed Victoria. Unlike Victoria, she had been spoilt by their ageing parents, and when the supply of expensive goods and praise had slowed, she had reacted with resentment.

“Eating all those burgers and stuff isn’t good for you, Nettie,” Victoria protested one night.

“’Sall right. I’ve got a dietary supplement,” Annette replied. Victoria was impressed and asked what it was.

“Cum!” her sister replied. Victoria suspected this was bravado and not truth, but nonetheless gave her sister a lecture on safe sex and against promiscuity.

“What do you get off on apart from lezzies’ fingers and electric dildos, sis?” the teenager asked in reply, “that old rounders bat you’ve got hung up in your room? Coke bottles? Fire extinguisher?” Victoria wanted to slap her, but controlled herself. She turned round and strode from the room, unfortunately putting her foot on a baked beans tin her sister had left on the floor and skating headlong into the door.

“Can you do that again, sis?” asked Annette. “My phone wasn’t ready to take the pictures.”

On the fifth night of Annette’s ASBO, Victoria took an urgent call. An operation to catch some drug dealers was in trouble and the trap must be sprung now or never. She tried to explain the situation to Annette, but the grumpy girl merely complained that Victoria was “skiving off doing the washing up again.” That pushed Victoria over the edge and she hissed at her sister that their parents had been too soft with her and she deserved to have her bottom tanned.

“Oh, so you’re into that, then, sis!” said Annette, looking amused. Victoria, regaining control of herself, let that pass.

“I can’t stop you going out, but DO NOT go to the town centre or anywhere near that vicar!” she warned as she hurried off.

“Oh, no, I won’t,” her sister muttered to herself, “I’ll do something much more interesting.”

On her way to the station, Victoria had time to have second thoughts. It was so hard to like her sister, but still, sisters they were. Harsh discipline and firm control got you only so far. Tomorrow, after all, it was Nettie’s eighteenth birthday and her parents would not be there. Of course they had arranged for expensive presents to be delivered, and of course they would phone and express their love; but it would be understandable if Nettie felt a bit disappointed. Victoria hoped her own presents would be appreciated – but she hardly expected a word of thanks. Nettie was an ungrateful, spiteful little…No, give her a chance. It was her birthday after all.

The operation turned out to be far more difficult than Victoria had imagined. Somehow the gang, who were meeting in a warehouse, realised their danger at the last minute. Worse, one of them turned out to be armed and shouted a warning at the approaching officers, waving the gun from an upstairs window. The police had not anticipated armed resistance and were themselves unarmed, as was generally still the case with British police, so they had to proceed carefully while calling up a firearms squad. As uniformed officers surrounded the premises, PC Susan Williams, just three days out of training, crept cautiously to peer round one end of a low brick wall, not realising that, from the angle of the warehouse second-floor window, she was raising her bottom into the line of fire, and took a shot in her youthful target. Fortunately, however, the gun had not fired a bullet but some kind of dart which stuck in her buttock. She screamed and jumped up, tripping over the wall and landing on the other side. Realising her danger, she scrambled to her feet to get on the safe side of the wall again, only to collapse as the tranquilising dart intended for large African wild animals took effect, so she was draped over the wall, bottom presented to the gunman, who thoughtfully placed another dart in her left buttock to balance that in the right. Victoria herself dragged her over the wall to safety. As she was rushed off to hospital (to receive the attentions of a delighted surgeon) the gang, knowing they could not be winners in a siege, used some secret exit and made a run for it into a getaway car which the detectives promptly rammed. Victoria helped to subdue the villains, but that was far from the end of the night’s work, as she was involved in the interviews and in orders for a further search, as the ringleader, the infamous Leroy Jones, was not among the captives. She felt obliged to visit the young PC, who was recovering well and ridiculously apologetic for exposing her bottom. It was the early hours when Victoria was finally able to leave her work and return to the family home.

The front of the house was all dark. Was it too much to hope that her sister had gone to bed – alone? If she had, Victoria thought, she would deserve thanks and even some small prize, an extra present maybe. She ought not to assume the worst of her sister. She had to consider it possible, though, that she would find the house empty. At worst, there might even be a call that Annette had been arrested. Of course, there was a third possibility, that Annette had slipped off to the back of the house and was playing music or whatever. Well, she would soon find out. She fumbled for her key – she was tired – and let herself in. She felt for the light switch and pressed it. Nothing happened.

“Oh, shit!” she muttered. “Not a power cut, PLEASE. Only a bulb gone phut. Please!” She carefully felt her way down the corridor until suddenly she fell over something hard and leggy that should not have been there, perhaps a wooden stool on its side. It seemed to dislodge a number of bottles and tins with a series of loud crashes. Picking herself up, and hearing no more sounds, she felt her way to the first door and fumbled inside for the switch. Light flooded out. Behind her lay the ruins of a carefully constructed booby trap that must have been planned to give warning of her arrival: but she was mystified that there was no sign of a reaction. She moved cautiously up the stairs.

Annette Gladwell lay senseless on her bed wearing a black, lacy bra and nothing else. Her legs were apart and a large pink dildo plugged the gap. The room stank with cigarette smoke and another, sickly sweet smell Victoria knew only too well – cannabis. Empty cans and bottles were strewn on the floor. Annette breathed heavily. Her computer screen picked up movement and flickered into life, displaying a frozen picture which Victoria knew to be the end of a video. She fast-forwarded to the title: “A CORNUCOPIA OF SPANKING AND EXTREME BDSM! THRASHED TEACHER, POLICEWOMAN, NURSE, TRAFFIC WARDEN, JOGGER, VICAR! LISTEN TO THE NURSE SCREAM AS THE TEAPOT SPOUT IS SHOVED UP HER CUNT AND THE MISTRESS POURS HOT TEA IN HER! WATCH AS A BURGLAR TAKES A POWER DRILL TO A YOUNG POLICEWOMAN’S BIG TITS! M ON F, F ON F, F ON M! REAL WEALS, BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS!!!”

Victoria turned the wretched machine off. She checked there were no signs that her sister was in need of immediate help and stumbled into her own bedroom to sit her plump bottom in its neat pale blue-grey trousers down on her own bed, remove her outdoor jacket and straighten out her racing mind. On the dresser lay the prettily packaged presents she had prepared for her sister. Ten minutes later, she rose and poured herself a stiff drink. Then she walked back to Annette’s bedroom and sat down, waiting for her to revive. Some time later, she realised she should remove the obscene thing between her sister’s legs. She lent over the bed and pulled it out, not without difficulty. Annette groaned, shifted and half opened her eyes, mumbling,

“Ooooh, Leroy! Ooooooh!”. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and she stared at her sister. “YOU! YOU DISGUSTING PERVERT! DOING ME WITH THAT THING! GET IT OUT!” Victoria withdrew it quickly, but her anger boiled over.

“It was in you already! What have you been up to? Who’s Leroy?” Annette eyeballed her, stiff with anger.
“Leroy’s my boyfriend! You wouldn’t like him, of course! I’ve been celebrating my birthday. I’m eighteen, remember? It’s my birthday, remember? Or were you too busy with your stupid job? You SAID I could have a few friends in to celebrate, and I did!”

“Celebrate with illegal drugs, I see!”

“SEE? Can you see any drugs?” Victoria couldn’t. She had smelt, not seen, cannabis.

“I don’t have to see it! I can smell it! Cannabis!” she shot back.

“You fatarsed, fatheaded saddo!” her sister replied, “that’s INCENSE! Leroy’s a CATHOLIC!” Victoria was seized with sudden doubt. Surely it was cannabis on the air? But she had smelt a lot of cannabis and very little Catholic incense, so it was just possible she’d made a mistake. She drew a deep breath.

“Nettie, something pretty weird has been going on here, and I don’t like seeing my seventeen-year old sister with a sex toy up her…up her…”

“Cunt?” offered Annette.

“Up you.”

“Seventeen? I’m eighteen now! Remember?” Annette yelled. Victoria decided to break out of the argument.

“Anyway, I did remember your birthday and I got presents,” she announced. Annette did not reply, which Victoria took as a positive sign. She slipped out and returned with her arms full. As the presents were threatening to slip out of her arms on to the floor, she put them down on the bed. Still without a word, and still naked, Annette reached out and started unpacking them.

“Chocolates. Naff…” she began, popping one chocolate in her mouth. GPS? What’d I do with that? Bruce Springsteen? Eeeeeeeurch! Socks? Naff. Bra? Don’t wear one. Wrong size anyway. Might fit your huge droopy tits. Now this…” she had come to the largest package. Tearing the bright paper apart, she revealed a gleaming electric guitar. She made a face. “Electric guitars are SO 2005!” she sneered.

In Detective Inspector Gladwell, tears were fighting with anger. She tried to stop either winning.

“Mind you, I’ve been planning an act where I smash a guitar on stage,” her sister mused. “Could use it for that. Apart from that, dear sister, your presents are almost as crappy as mum and dad’s.” Victoria could stand it no longer.

“Nettie, you should NEVER talk about mum and dad like that! They do their best for you. They LOVE you. You ungrateful little bi…little girl!” Annette slid off the bed and stood inches from her sister, staring into her face.
“Ungrateful little WHAT, you fatarsed old piggy? Those kids next door saw you waddling out this morning, huge arse working, tits wobbling, and asked if you worked in a circus! OW!” Provoked beyond endurance after a long, hard day, Victoria had slapped her sister full in the face.

The shape of Victoria’s hand was impressed on her sister’s face. Victoria, horrified, took a step back. Annette, her face suddenly cold, calm and implacable, took a step forward.
“You shouldn’t have done that, sis,” she said quietly.
“No, I shouldn’t,” Victoria replied, “I’m OW!” Annette had slapped her back.
“You do unarmed combat in the filth, don’t you?” Annette asked.
“Yes, but UUURGH!” Annette had punched her in the stomach.

It was true that Victoria had, like all police officers, been trained in unarmed combat, but the focus of such training was on how to subdue a suspect, not on how to hurt them, and in any case a senior detective did not have to put the training to use very often, though Victoria did make frequent use of the police gym. As she straightened up, she realised that her sister had not followed up the punch when it would have been easiest to press home her advantage. Perhaps she too now realised she had gone too far. Annette waited for her to recover and said,

“Right. The real fight starts now!” Victoria retreated and Annette, slightly crouched, eyes intent, followed her. Victoria now knew she was indeed in a real fight. She could not just refuse to fight back. The only course was to use all her strength, her training, her wit, her fitness, her greater weight to overpower and subdue her sister with the minimum harm to either of them. She too crouched slightly and waited for Annette to make a move.

When Annette did move, it was with lightning speed. She grabbed hold of her sister’s hair and pulled viciously, forcing a scream of pain from her. Victoria, using her training, kicked out and her hard shoe struck Annette’s unprotected ankle. The smaller girl yelped and retreated. Now she was on the defensive while Victoria was pressing forward. The policewoman wanted to get this horrible, degrading business over as soon as possible and with as little harm done as possible. That meant moving quickly. She rushed her sister. One moment the teenager was there – then she was somewhere else and Victoria was hurtling through the air. She had discounted Annette’s judo training – but the younger girl had clearly learnt well. Victoria could not see where she was going but knew any moment she would strike the wall or something else. It turned out to be something else. Her hips jammed in something painfully hard but there was no other impact. She was upside down, her hips and bottom trapped, looking towards a motionless Annette. She had got stuck in the open doorway of Annette’s wardrobe.

The teenager moved towards her slowly, deliberately, having no need to hurry.

“Oh, dear, sis, you’ve got a bit of a problem! Your fat arse has got stuck! Dear, dear. Shall I call the police?” She paused. “Or the fire brigade? Or the RSPCA? They deal with trapped cows.” She was now very close. Victoria found herself staring into her sister’s tight little black bush. Then Annette moved very fast and Victoria felt terrible pain. Her sister had karate chopped her in the right breast. Then the left. Her hips were pushed a little further into the wardrobe, but not enough to release her. “Hmm…let’s unwrap my present,” Annette said, and began unbuttoning Victoria’s blouse. A moment later, she commented, “Oh, wow. I thought your taste was naff, sis, but a frilly pink bra? Excuse me while I throw up! Ohmigod! Pink!”

“Let me go!” said Victoria; but her younger sister merely laughed. She turned her attention to her sister’s narrow grey belt, undoing it, pulling it away from her waist and tearing her trousers open at the front; but the effort dislodged her victim, who fell helplessly towards the front edge of the wardrobe floor.

Victoria might have sustained a serious head wound on impact, were it not for the fact that her sister had stepped forward a moment before. So it was Annette’s naked feet that Victoria’s head hit.

“WAAAAAIIOW!” yelled Annette. “You stupid, clumsy cunt! You’ll pay for that!” Though she was hurt, Victoria was groggy from the impact and in no shape to avoid a vicious punch to her stomach followed by a kick to her breasts. Then she found herself being dragged across the floor by her hair, her bulk making this all the more painful. Annette dragged some things into position with one free hand, perched herself on the end of her bed with her legs draped over the low padded board at the end so her thighs were angled slightly up, and dragged her sister, still by the hair, on to her lap. “Now this IS going to be interesting!” she announced.

Victoria’s trousers, liberated when her belt was removed, had slipped to her knees as she was being dragged, revealing frilly-edged knickers of very pale yellow with a picture back and front of a sweet (or simpering) Snow White. The knickers were drum-tight across her great, magnificent arsecheeks and stretched over the great divide between so taut that a flick of a fingernail might have produced a twanging noise, but they had been chosen for decency and covered every inch of undercheek and even the slightest miniature valley at the very uppermost reaches of her arsecrack.

“Snow White! How utterly naff!” she said with a grimace, staring at the pretty picture on the front. “Where’d you get those from, Queen Victoria – the Oxfam shop or the church jumble sale? Now – isn’t it lucky I decided earlier to have a game of table tennis with Leroy and got out your table tennis bats, sis – or one of them?” She was indeed holding a table tennis bat which she raised high above her helpless sister’s posterior. Then she brought it down.

The shock and sting instantly broke through Victoria’s reserve and professionalism, making nothing of her training, her status, her resolve, her dignity. She screamed. Annette laughed, a high wild laugh. The she brought the bat down again. She seemed possessed of unnatural strength. A glass vase on a shelf shook from the soundwaves. Annette delivered a third blow and a fourth.
“Don’t imagine you can cheat me of hearing you cry, Detective Inspector,” she gloated, “I’m just going to keep whacking till I hear tears!” Nonetheless, she had to deliver six more whacks before her elder sister began to cry. She gave her two more for good measure and then pulled her panties down over her plump thighs to her knees.

Never before, not even when she and the others had overpowered the Head Girl and had their will with her, had Annette faced an arse more asking for punishment. It was at least four times the size of the bitch’s head, she thought, probably five times, and she had a big head for a woman. The central cleft was incredibly deep, so you could imagine losing things in it, a nutcracker perhaps, a corkscrew, a flute, a toilet roll. The two twin blushing cheeks quivered invitingly. Annette gave each cheek one fierce crack with the bat before putting it down and proceeding to stroke, knead and pinch the gross and malleable object. Then she began to smack it with her hand. She was delighted by the various shapes she could make it go into and by the imprint her hand left on it. She was even more delighted by her stupid sister’s moans and shrieks and by the childish, defeated sobbing.

“My, you do have a big, fat arse, sis,” she cooed. “Must be six times the size of your head. All arse and no brain! How many seats do you need to sit on? You obviously must drive if you’re in the front of a police car, ‘cause there’d be no room for anyone else in the front and I don’t even think the doors would shut. Now – do you admit you’ve got an O.S. arse?” Victoria did not reply, so Annette delivered a particularly vicious swat. Victoria screamed and her sister repeated the question.
“Please, stop torturing me, AnnAAAAOOOOOOOW!” Victoria replied.
“ANSWER ME. DO YOU ACCEPT YOU’VE GOT AN O.S. ARSE MORE LIKE A HIPPOPOTAMUS BUM THAN A HUMAN?” Annette demanded. She gave her sister a moment to reply, to overcome her sobs and speak words.
“Oh, God, oh God. Yes.”
“YES WHAT?”
“Yes, I’ve…hur, hur, hur… got a fat bum.” Annette struck again.
“Arse, you cow, arse! An O.S. arse like one on a hippo! Say it!”
“I’ve got a big fat arse, an O.S. arse like…hur, hur…one on a hippopotamus, waahaaahur.” Annette smiled.

Shifting her grip, her foot touched something that clanked. Handcuffs! The stupid cow must have been carrying them somewhere thought she hadn’t seen them, and now they were lying there just pleading to be used! She leant over, picked them up and cuffed her sister’s wrists behind her neck. That looked good – in fact, worth a photo. Now the bitch could be left while she went for something else. Annette rolled her sister off and walked over to stuff some chewing-gum in her mouth and pick up the guitar she had been given – but when she turned round, the stupid pig had managed to stand up and was waddling towards the door. Annette hit her a couple of times and brought her back to the bed.

That was her first chance to look at her sister’s front view, and she took her time.

“Ohmigod, sister, what do you keep in that bush – a hamster?” she asked, pulling casually at Victoria’s luxuriant pubic hair before tugging it viciously. “Eeeurgh! Don’t you clean it properly? You should shave. The best street girls do. Look at mine. That’s what a cunt should look like, not David fucking Bellamy’s beard!”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Victoria wailed.
“Stupid question!” her sister replied. “Because you’re a cow. Because you’re shit. Because you’re a pig. Because I’m a better fighter than you.” Annette transferred her attention to Victoria’s generous breasts and after a while, asked,
“Do you think I should take your bra off, darling sis? It really is naff, believe me. No? Oh, I see. If I take it off your huge floppy tits will fall off, or hit your belly and hurt it. So – make your mind up. Shall I take it off or not? COME ON, I haven’t got all night. Tell me what you want.”
“Leave it on, please,” said Victoria tearfully.
“Fine!” said Annette and, grasping the two cups, pulled them away from the tits and away from one another till there was a loud tearing noise and the central bridge split.

She stared at the white, wobbling objects she had liberated. “Don’t EVER use one of those guillotine things they cut paper with, sis!” she advised, “or try to feed a dog by getting it to jump up and snap. Now turn over and stick your arse out. Oh, right, being unco-operative, are we? Need to be taught a lesson, don’t we?” Soon a winded Victoria was arranged just as her sister wanted, bent over pillows, her huge bottom sticking out like a giant mushroom, its central cleft like something from which a cartoon monster might emerge. Annette made sure her sister see she was wielding the guitar just given as a present. She took up position behind the target, raised the guitar in both hands and smashed it down across her sister’s rump. The combination of the meaty WHACK and the resonant DOM of the guitar intrigued Annette, so she repeated the act. At the fifth blow the guitar began to disintegrate, but Annette kept bringing it down till it was unusable and her sister’s hindquarters glowed like a beacon.

Annette pulled up a stool and listened to her sister sobbing, watched her sister’s arse wobbling with each sob and chewed her chewing gum till it was finished. Then she reached under Victoria’s cunt lips and stuck the used gum into the very middle of her blonde bush. The guitar Victoria had bought as a present lay in splinters on the floor.

Her hands freed, Annette gave herself a pleasant, encouraging feel. This really was better than Leroy, she thought. But the thought of Leroy gave her a new idea. She fetched her mobile phone and made a brief call. Then she opened a drawer and drew out a book.
“Marquis de Sade. Have you read him?” she asked her sister conversationally. “I’M TALKING TO YOU, B*TCH. ANSWER ME! DON’T YOU HAVE ANY MANNERS?”
“No!” Victoria answered quickly, meaning she had not read de Sade. WHAM! One bit of the guitar had been big enough to use. Annette waited till the scream died down.
“No, you’ve got no manners – or no, you won’t answer me?” she demanded.
“No I haven’t read de Sade!” Victoria burbled hurriedly.
“Well – read it now. Aloud. To me!” Annette ordered, laying the book in front of her sister’s face.

Her face blushing almost as red as her arse, Victoria read.

This was such a delicious experience that Annette was slightly annoyed when the doorbell rang. After considering sending her sister, as she was, to answer it, and rejecting that idea in case she tried to run away, and aware that even handcuffed her sister could not be trusted to behave, she propelled the plump, curvy thing down the stairs and into the hallway, where she hung her by the handcuffs from the coat-stand as the bell rang a second time and draped her father’s big coat over her. She walked briskly to the door, still naked, and opened it.

Three men and one woman stood outside. One of the men, who might have been Greek or South Italian, held a large bag. Saying nothing, but smiling a strange, secret smile, she motioned them inside. The tall, muscular young Black man responded by grabbing her and lifting her off the ground.
“Sheeyut!” he cried, “have you really got the b*tch?”
“Oh, Leroy, Leroy, my great big sex machine, YES! I have! And she’s all yours!” Annette replied, “Yours and Gordon’s and Andy’s. Who’s the lady? We haven’t been introduced!”
“She’s one of mine, a star performer,” the short, lazy-eyed, olive-skinned man with untidy black hair replied. “Her name’s Mandy.” The bottle blonde in skintight trousers and a low-cut top grinned in reply and said “Hi!”
“Now all of you, gather round the coat-stand. I’ve got a present for you.” Annette said. They did as told, Leroy and Mandy and Gordon and the remaining member of the party, Andy, a fat, bald, pasty man with a double chin and a shirt which looked more suited to a Caribbean beach.

“DA-DA!” cried Annette, whipping the coat away from her sister. The four stood and stared. Annette was gratified to see the expressions of surprise, wonder and growing joy. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m proud to present for your pleasure and amusement, CHIEF INSPECTOR VICTORIA GLADWELL!” she announced.

Victoria surveyed the newcomers with a sinking feeling, a sense of shock and foreboding. The plumpest of the men she recognised as Andy Little, a local “businessman” who was often in trouble with the police but had never been nailed on a charge which would stick. The medium-sized, swarthy one was Gordon Kyriacos, the pimp she had been so keen to bring to justice and who had escaped on a technicality. The woman, who displayed broad hips and large breasts in super-tight trousers and a low-cut blouse, she recognised as Mandy, one of Kyriacos’ regular employees who commonly hung around that corner near the bus station. The last visitor had been standing behind the others when she first saw him, but now he stepped out so she could see him clearly. He was very tall, strongly-built, hungry-faced and black. It was Leroy Jones, the leader of the drug gang she had busted earlier that night. Victoria stared at him, but he returned her stare so triumphantly, so hungrily, that she broke the contact and looked away. Instead she eyeballed her sister.

“This…is…your…Leroy…is…it?” she demanded.

“Yes…it…is…my…Leroy…cow!” Annette replied.

“Yes…I…am…her…Leroy…Pig…Cunt!” Leroy confirmed. Victoria would not give up the fight easily.

“Sis, he’s a dangerous armed criminal, a drug baron!” Leroy and Annette both laughed. They high-fived.

“Yes, he’s a dangerous criminal, and I’m handing you to him on a plate!” her sister cooed. The tall black man fixed Victoria with his hungry and triumphant eyes.

“Hey, Inspector Piggy! That juicy little porker I plugged in the arse with the tranquillising darts – she O.K.?”

“Yes, she is – no thanks to you!” He laughed.
“Now that’s unfair! I could’ve got a real serious gun and plugged her sweet little arse with that two three times. Instead I just used this thing game wardens use on warthogs, wildebeest and hippos. Now I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Yes?” she asked, trying to sound resolute.

“You picked up several of my boys. That makes me not very fond of you. I want them released.”

“If you think you can threaten or beat me till I order their release, you’ve got another think coming! I won’t! I care too much about my duty. In any case, it wouldn’t work.” He laughed.

“Oh, no, little Miss Piggy, you don’t understand! I’ll arrange it through you, but what you want and what you say are irrelevant. By the way, I like your tits.” So saying, he took a handful and squeezed.

“Get off me!” the furious policewoman ordered; but he laughed again and started tickling her nipples.

“Beast! You’ve never done that to me!” Annette complained. Leroy rather hurriedly promised to try it next time and finished off his attentions to Victoria’s tits by squeezing her nipple as if it were a zit.

“Is this a private thing, or can the rest of us join in?” asked Gordon Kyriacos.

“SORRY! Oh, of course you can all have a go. Leroy, darling, just tear yourself away from the fat piggy for a minute, can you? Thanks. Well, my naughty big sister (and she really is big, isn’t she?) has been nasty to all of you, and it’s payback time. Gordie, did you bring all the things?”

“Of course, Princess!” said Kyriacos. “Shall we do her here, or do you have somewhere else in mind?”

“Her bedroom would be a good idea, real evil,” said Annette. “Leroy, could you bring her along?” It was no trouble for the big drug baron to put Victoria over his shoulder in the classic position – arse forward, head and tits hanging down behind – and so Chief Inspector Victoria Gladwell led with her big, fat arse as the company headed down the corridor, up the stairs and into her very own bedroom.

It was there that Kyriacos unpacked his bag. Victoria watched as the items came out one by one: a vicious-looking little whip, a decorated paddle, a length of rope, a length of chain, a padlock, some bulldog clips, an old-fashioned table tennis bat with sandpaper one side and plain wood the other, a thick leather belt, a cane and a large tube of salt. Mandy saw Victoria’s fearful expression and grinned.

“All out of my overnight bag, darling, except the rope. I use thin cord, not that thick, rough, hairy rope stuff,” she explained.

“Annette, PLEASE! I’m sorry if I offended you. Sorry! Please help me! Stop them!” Victoria pleaded. For answer, her sister slapped her face hard.

“Too late, cow!” she replied. Victoria did not say anything more, for she was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Tie her to the bed!” Annette instructed. Andy Little and Mandy sprung forward and put the rope to good use. Victoria’s neck was tied to the head-post of the bed and her knees tied to her neck so her huge arsecheeks stuck up like a weird obscene fruit bulging from an exotic tree. Her legs were apart, but not far apart. More rope was tied tightly round the bases of her big tits, meeting round her back, and Annette tugged till they splayed sideways. She was ready.

“Look at her huge wobbly tits! About as firm as blancmange!” Mandy laughed.

Andy Little peered between her legs and grabbed hold of a handful of thick, curly hair.

“Fuck me, she’s hairy!” he remarked. “Enough there for an Afro wig. No offence, Leroy, old son.”

“None taken!” Leroy replied. “Shit, you’re right, she’s hairy as a chimpanzee up there! Still, I suppose it keeps the wasps out.”

“Let me see!” Mandy pleaded; so she too peered and poked between the Chief Inspector’s legs, ending by giving the hairs a vigorous pull. Victoria squealed and they all laughed.

“Now I’m a conscientious kind of dude,” said Leroy. “By the look of her big fat ass it’s obvious you’ve given her a real going over. Aren’t we supposed to avoid landing shots in the same places, lovechild?”

“Not for her,” Annette replied. “Do it anywhere you like!”

“I want first go!” said Mandy.

“Good girl!” said Kyriacos, handing her the whip. With a gloating expression, she stepped back, contemplated her target and cut in just below – it would normally have been above – the back of Victoria’s knee. Victoria yelped and was silent. Mandy looked a little annoyed – she was sure she could get more reaction than that – and lined her victim up again.

This time the vicious cut landed neatly in her puckered sex lips, and the scream was quite enough to satisfy Mandy. The Chief Inspector bucked and spasmed, but could not move more than an inch or two.

“Didn’t you like that, Chief Inspector?” Mandy gloated. “Try this one, then.” That one bit into the middle of her left arsecheek. The one after was on the right. Mandy was getting into her stride. So was Victoria:

“UR, HUR, HUR, HUR, don’t, please, pleAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! WUR, hur, hur, hur, NOO!

NOOAAAAAIOOOOW! Urgh!”

“I didn’t know she had such a wide vocabulary!” Annette commented.

“Want me to stop, darling?” Mandy asked her victim. The answer being “Wur, hur, hur, um…”, Mandy gave her two more cuts and then handed over to a grinning Kyriacos.

He was in no hurry at all. He waited for Victoria’s moans to subside before addressing her in the tones of a strict but kindly headmaster addressing a pupil he did not dislike who had done something very bad.

“Well, now, Chief Inspector, as they say, we meet again! It really wasn’t very nice of you at all to keep chasing me and trying to get me sent to prison. It wasn’t very wise and it wasn’t exactly calculated to make me inclined to do you a favour. Quite the opposite. I’m afraid I have to tell you that if you try to curry favour now, it’ll get you nowhere. You should have thought of that before when there was still a chance. I gave you an opportunity to take that money and turn a blind eye to my business activities, but, ungrateful girl, you spurned that opportunity and even threw it back in my face. That was my reward for trying to be kind, and now it’s time for you to get your reward. I can’t say you don’t deserve it and, believe me, if I asked all the hard-working girls and my other members of staff and all our customers what should be done with you, you’d be turning slowly on a kebab spit – after a good thrashing. But being a kind and moderate man, I’ve decided to carry out only one part of that punishment and leave out the other, for the time being at least. You’ll merely be thrashed. Now, I assure you, this will hurt you more than it hurts me.” So saying, he raised the whip and cut in straight across the red marks of Mandy’s attentions. The Chief Inspector squealed. Kyriacos smiled, paused, and cut in again. His third cut snaked into her exposed pink cunt lips, with the same results as Mandy had achieved. At twelve he stopped, and, bowing with exaggerated politeness, passed the whip to Andy Little.

Andy’s double chin wobbled with excitement. He exchanged complicit glances with Leroy which neither sister could decipher. Unlike Kyriacos or Mandy, he seemed to be having difficulty controlling himself. His hand shook and his eyes popped. Then he raised his arm high and cut in across her deep arsecrack. Her wail of pain made him wobble and quiver even more. He composed himself a little, raised his arm again, and gave it to her across the upper thigh. Ten strokes later, Victoria was cruelly marked in red up her thighs to the back of her knees and Andy seemed about to explode. But instead he passed the enchanted baton to Leroy Jones, whose wide mouth slid out slowly into a smile which alone made Victoria very frightened.

“Well, Chief Inspector, this is a turn-up for the books! You didn’t expect this, did you?” he said. “Well, I’m a considerate man, the ladies say. Where do you want it?”

“Just get it over with!” Victoria replied.

“Temper, temper! Well, I’ll just have to choose for myself.” So saying, he raised the cane and landed it right in the crook of her right knee. She screamed and bucked in vain. The back of her left knee was the next target. Then grinning, with shining eyes, he began to cane her hindquarters systematically, crossing the lines left by the others and grunting a little as he delivered. Annette, meanwhile, was clapping, jumping up and down and cheering him on:

“Go on, Leroy! Great! Give it to her! Oh, good one! Evil! Go on!” Leroy went on. Only when the Chief Inspector was reduced to incoherent burbles and sobs did he stop and was promptly pounced on by Annette who ground herself against him and kissed him passionately. Victoria was still crying. Annette broke off the kiss, looked at her sister, and said to Leroy:

“You going to fuck her, then?”

“Sure thing!” said Leroy. Then the doorbell rang.

The attackers looked at one another.

“I’d better take it,” said Annette, throwing on a mannish towelling-robe. The others crept to the top of the stairs to listen and to be ready if necessary to try to make their escape. Kyriacos fingered something in his pocket.

They heard downstairs a clear young female voice.

“I’m so sorry to have disturbed you. Are you Victoria’s sister? I’m one of her colleagues. I was going just to put a note through Victoria’s door to say how grateful I was for all her kindness and encouragement, that the hospital couldn’t see any reason to keep hold of me, and that I was just fine and raring to go, but I saw lights and thought she must still be up. Can I speak to her?” said PC Susan Williams.

“Of course you can. Do come in! Could you wait in the living room here? Do sit down. Victoria was watching a video and she’s just nodded off. I’ll get her right away. Who shall I say it is?” said Annette. The door closed. Victoria had been too surprised to act promptly, but now she yelled:

“Susan! DoAARGH!”, finishing ahead of time as Leroy hit her very hard in the mouth, sending blood spraying over her body and her bed.

“Gag!” he said, holding his big hands over her mouth. Grinning, Mandy quickly pulled off her own trousers and donated her lurid pink and blue panties to be a gag.

Downstairs, Annette could be heard saying,

“Yes, I’m afraid the video she’s watching is a bit, well, explicit for my taste. Still, one woman’s meat is another woman’s poison…drink?” Annette came up the stairs with light, springy steps, almost dancing. A moment later PC Susan Williams heard two sets of steps descending the stairs, one heavier than the other. The living room door opened. Susan’s smile froze. Annette stood there with Leroy.

“Hello, Miss Piggy. I’m the big black guy who plugged you in the ass!” Leroy announced. Susan was in uniform and equipped for duty, but the sudden turn of events had unnerved her. She fumbled as she tried to pull out her gas canister and was a fraction too slow. Leroy grabbed her wrists, Annette knocked the canister from her grasp, and moments later she was stretched like the famous sack of potatoes over the big man’s shoulder, her sweet, pert, blue-uniformed arse leading the way as they ascended the stairs.

“Hi, sis! We’ve got company for you!” said Annette. Kyriacos was looking at the new arrival with frank lust, taking in her firm, shapely breasts pushing hard against her crisp white uniform blouse, the pert, round, rubbery arse held tight by the blue uniform trousers, the big brown eyes, the sensitive, pretty face, the glossy red hair.

“I think we should postpone fucking the Chief Inspector until we’ve properly thrashed the constable,” he suggested.

“Agreed!” said Andy, squeezing her bottom.
“Good thinking!” said Mandy, grinning at her and slapping her face.

Up until now PC Susan Williams had been so shocked she had said nothing. Now the foolish girl began to protest – the last thing to do unless she wanted to attract harsher attention.

“Stop that! Stop it now! You’ll regret this! I’m a police officer!” she burbled.

“Well, now, I did think you was a hooker in that uniform,” said Leroy lazily, “but now you’ve informed me you’re a police officer, you’re really gonna get it!”

“Can I tie her up? I’ve got lots of ideas!” said Mandy. The men readily agreed. So PC Williams found cord tied tightly round each ear, and each ear attached by the cords to her big toes so she was tightly bent. Leroy leant towards her still uniformed arsecheeks and sniffed them delicately like a wine critic or a gardening competition judge. Annette stepped forward to hold her head still and her boyfriend spanked the official rump cruelly. As Susan began to protest again, Victoria tried to intervene, struggling vainly to free herself from the gag. The others ignored her, for Susan Williams was well worth watching. Realising they would be needed, Annette brought a pair of kitchen scissors and Andy started to snip the captive’s uniform off, starting with her dark, rough-cloth trousers, to reveal neat, plain, apple-green panties on another delightful bottom; then removing the crisp white blouse to reveal a frilly bra of a delicate pale amber hue and pert breasts heaving inside it.

Susan had now changed her tune a little:

“Please! No! Please! Leave me alone! No, please!” she chorused pointlessly as the gang laughed.

“We need to decide how to get her bra off,” Andy pointed out. “There are different ways and they all have their plusses and minuses.”

“Pull it out by the central bridge till the elastic snaps,” Kyriacos suggested, “that’s amusing, but a bit slow.”
“Cut the central bridge with a knife – or scissors!” Mandy offered, “that really makes her look stupid. Then just tug it off.”

“Or the boringly conventional option - unhook it at the back, or cut it at the back and pull it off,” Andy added.

“Could burn it off or use acid,” Annette suggested.

“So – four options!” said Andy. “Shall we vote? Toss a coin?”

“I think cutting the central bridge is best,” Annette ruled. “Mandy – you can do it.” So Mandy cut apart Susan’s pretty bra and tugged it from her pretty tits.

“Do we want to keep her panties on for now, or get them off right away?” Annette asked.

“Off right now!” Leroy said. “Can I, princess?”

“Of course you can, darling!” So Leroy’s massive hands drew down Susan’s delicate panties till he slipped them from her small feet and stuffed them in his pocket.

“Now the cane, I think, each in turn,” said Annette, handing it first to the smiling Mandy.

So Mandy cunningly cut into the young policewoman’s left undercheek, savouring the loud squeal. She grinned as she passed the cane to Andy Little, who cracked it across the heights of both cheeks. He nodded to Kyriacos and handed the baton to him; and the Greek, with great skill, cut into the girl’s right undercheek and laughed as she screamed. The he bowed deeply to Leroy and handed the instrument to him. The big Black lad, smiling lustfully, buried the cane in the meat of his victim’s right cheek and lovingly handed it on to Annette, who lashed the left cheek. She in turn handed it back to Mandy and they enjoyed a second round. Before they had finished, Susan Williams was softly crying.

“Here , Piggy!” Annette said, poking her face to a mere inch from Susan’s, “ever been caned on the tits before? WELL? ANSWER ME!”

“N…no!” said Susan.

“Good!” Annette replied. “Then we’ll educate you.” So they untied their victim and rearranged her kneeling with her hands cuffed behind her back. Mandy again took the lead, smashing the cane into the left side of the girl’s left tit and producing a glorious wail of anguish. Andy neatly balanced things on the right tit. When Kyriacos managed to zero in on both her nipples at once, Susan wailed like a banshee and the others applauded. Leroy, towering above his victim, sliced into the top of her right tit. Annette did the same to her left – and then, for the finale, landed another cunning cut on her right aureole. Susan was a wailing mess – but Annette’s attention had turned back to her sister, whose eyes, to Annette’s delight, showed helpless horror.

“This is all your doing, sis!” Annette gloated. “This little piggy would have been safe home in bed if she hadn’t worshipped you. Have you fucked her yet? WELL?”

“She’s gagged,” Andy pointed out. “Want me to let her speak?” When Victoria could speak, Annette taunted her more, asking her if she liked Susan’s pussy and how many times she’d been in it.

“None! Never!” Victoria finally protested.

“Stupid you! Then we’ll show you how!” said her sister. “Mandy – wanna go first?”

Mandy did, squeezing Susan’s taut, virginal tits before thrusting her hand hungrily up her juicy tunnel, grinning and gloating. Susan moaned and started crying again. Annette followed, pulling out her long musician’s fingers to sniff them appreciatively and offer them to her sister, jamming them under her nose.

“Ever smelt cunt?” she asked, and when her sister did not reply, slapped her hard in the face. Then Mandy transferred to Victoria while, at Annette’s word, Leroy poked his huge black battering-ram in Susan’s face and pumped rivers of sticky cum over it before transferring to her inviting pink cunt lips. Annette, watching, thought at first he was too big for her. He had to push hard while Susan screamed before the ram broke in and he buried himself in her. She shook on the end of his power like a rag doll shaken by an angry child or a limp girl tossed by a bull.

“I do like a tight one!” he said when he finally pulled out, leaving blood mingled with cum all over her bush, her belly and her thighs.

“Gordon next,” Annette ruled. Kyriacos chose to start on the young cop’s arsehole, but his cock was too big and the hole too small. He thought for a moment before picking up her baton and shoving it into her hole with all his strength and working it around while she wailed and screamed. Then he tried his cock again and this time it went in.

Mandy had finished with Victoria and was free to watch the men at work, but Annette had one more thing to do. She shoved her hand up her helpless sister, searched, found what she wanted and tugged. Victoria screamed. “Not exactly full of heroism, our top cop!” Annette commented. Leroy, Mandy and Andy laughed – but Gordon was busy with other things.

Annette was a good organiser when she chose. Each one of the visitors had each one of the victims. The last event was Leroy on Victoria. Susan lay broken, defeated, exhausted. When Leroy forced his way into the Chief Inspector, Annette yelled in triumph. She marked the rhythm of his conquest with a chorus of “GO – GO – GO – GO – GO!” When Leroy had finished, Victoria too was limp and broken.

“Dunno they’d be any good for my business,” said Kyriacos, “no stamina!”

“Whadderwe do with them now, Princess?” asked Leroy.

“I have a plan,” she replied. She smiled coyly: “A cunning plan!”

The patrol car had been called to the scene of a pretty ordinary late night accident: four miles outside town, a silver Saab had failed to take a sharp bend and gone off the road. Fortunately it had not overturned, but had merely ploughed into a muddy field. The first officer to the car shone his torch into it and stepped back, startled, colliding with the female PC following up behind. Lucy Gower did not entirely mind finding herself writhing in a field in the middle of the night with Nick Clough, but Nick was not in romantic mode.

“What the fuck! I don’t believe it!”

“What? What did you see?”

“See for yourself!”

Lucy did see for herself. Inside the Saab were two naked young women, the fuller-bodied one in the driver’s seat and the one of almost immature appearance in the front passenger seat. They were locked in the most passionate and intimate of embraces, mouth to cunt, fingers to cunt, mouth to breast. They were unconscious and breathing heavily in a way suggestive of alcohol or drugs. Both of them bore the marks of some sado-masochistic orgy on their buttocks, their thighs and their breasts. Both of them, extraordinarily, had regulation police batons thrust up their anuses. The busty driver, if such she was, looked remarkably like Chief Inspector Victoria Gladwell. Her red-haired passenger and lover looked very like PC Susan Williams.

The shocked policewoman recoiled, slipped, fell hard on her bottom and picked herself up with the addition of a large smudge of mud.

“The big one looks almost like Chief Inspector Gladbum!” she said wonderingly. Her colleague was using his radio. She waited for him to finish.

“It may or may not be Gladbum, but this is her car,” he told her. “You’ve got mud on your ar…on your, ah, trouser seat. Want me to clean it off?”

The discovery of Chief Inspector Gladwell and Constable Susan Williams stuffed full of a cocktail of illegal drugs and over the limit with alcohol in a car which the Chief Inspector had obviously driven into a field (her prints were on the driving wheel and no other prints were found in the car except Susan Williams’, plus one which interested investigators at first, until they found it belonged to the Chief Inspector’s sister) led rapidly to dismissal for both disgraced officers and the dismissal of several key cases in which Victoria was involved. Susan, who had just taken on a mortgage, accepted a kindly offer of a job from Gordon Kyriacos. She became a star turn and a great money-maker for him, being particularly in demand with criminals and with the Reverend Luke Attwell. And was often hired out for parties or gang-bangs. Victoria attempted to emigrate to Australia and was rejected. In the end, two years later, she heard about a vacancy for a British-trained security officer in Thailand, applied for the job and got it.

2008

“The stupid cow thinks she’s going to be a security officer! I’d just like to see her face when she finds out what she’s really got to do in that nightclub!” Annette laughed to Leroy as they lay on a Caribbean beach.

“But Nets, you will see her face if you want to,” her boyfriend replied. “They can take a video easy, and after all, you own the place.”

2010

“Yes, Mrs Gladwell confided to her friend as they got up to go their separate ways, “Annette has done incredibly well. Some of these superpop star singers or whatever you call them are nasty little you-know-whats, but she’s so good to her dear mum and dad, AND she has a real head for business, AND that Leroy is such a nice young man, especially given how he’s got beyond his difficult background, and he’ll make Nettie SUCH a good husband. Only three months to go now to the wedding. Nettie’s even been really nice to her sister who so disgraced the family and was so nasty to her. Can you imagine, after all that, finding her a good job in Thailand? And was Victoria grateful? NO! Still, she’s got to stay there now, something about Thai employment law. I hope it does her good.”

THE END!

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