churgles
Spectator
A note from the author: Hello! I'm new to these forums, found my way over here thanks to some of montycrusto's art over at DeviantArt and figured this might be a good place to share one or two of my stories. Looking forward to chatting with you all and hope you enjoy!
“Please, sit down.”
The young officer, not looking up from her computer screen, gestured at the single hard plastic chair on the other side of her desk.
Miranda Caron-Wright paused. She did not want to enter this room, but she knew she had no choice in the matter. She let go of the heavy door and took the four steps over to the chair.
As she sat down, the door closed behind her with a loud, locking click.
The young officer was already practiced in the bureaucratic way. She seemed to pay no mind to the frightened woman on the other side of the desk. Miranda felt the seconds melt away slowly.
“Name?”
Miranda jumped a mile, prompting a tiny chuckle from the young officer. “Miranda Caron-Wright.”
“Relax, Ms. Caron-Wright. My name’s Allie Jacobs. I’m just here to get your paperwork sorted out.” Miranda could not help but admire the young officer’s form, squeezed into a tight blouse and skirt, the type that someone wearing work clothes for the first time might opt for. Allie’s raven pixie cut and fashionable black glasses framed a face that, under any other circumstances, Miranda would find deeply attractive.
The young officer typed something into her keyboard. “Date of birth?”
“May 7, 1990.”
Allie raised an eyebrow. “I almost didn’t believe the system,” she said, tapping her monitor. “Would’ve pegged you for younger.” Miranda blushed at the compliment, deeply out of place though it was. A few more strokes on Allie’s keyboard.
“Too bad you’ll be turning 30 in here.”
The reality of Miranda’s situation flooded back into her mind.
“It says here you’re starting a seven-year sentence today?” Allie inquired, staring at Miranda over the top of her glasses. “Looks like… tax fraud, mail fraud, the usual white-collar thing. Is that right?”
Miranda’s mouth dried out, and she took a beat too long to answer.
“Ms. Caron-Wright, charming as you are, we don’t have all day to get you processed.” A slightly harder edge crept into Allie’s voice.
Miranda gulped. “Yes… yes, Allie, that’s right, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. And that’ll be Officer Jacobs to you going forward.” The flatness with which the young officer said this sent goosebumps spreading over Miranda’s skin. “Now, take off your clothes and put them in the box.” Allie gestured over to an airport-style plastic bin in the corner of the small processing room.
Miranda slowly rose from her chair, slipping out of her sensible heels as she did so. She didn’t want to overdress for the occasion – but she didn’t want to show up to prison looking like a slob. Off, too, came her third-best pair of slacks and her fourth-best blouse, until she was left in just her black bra and thong.
She felt Officer Jacobs’ gaze as it turned briefly away from her paperwork. “All the way, Ms. Caron-Wright.”
Miranda unclasped the bra, letting her firm breasts spill out, and slid the thong down her shapely legs. The cold air of the intake room sent her nipples to attention, and as she bent over to place her underthings in the box she felt more exposed than she had ever been before.
“On the X, please. Hands behind your head, legs shoulder-width apart.”
Miranda complied. She was about six feet from Allie, who peered at the naked woman through her glasses.
“Hair, blonde. Eyes, blue. Height…” Allie focused on the chart behind Miranda. “Five-foot-nine. Weight?”
“125.”
“Thank you. Tattoos…” Allie ran her eyes all over Miranda’s body. “A pattern around the left upper arm – what is that?”
Miranda was not enjoying this invasive examination, even though her inspector was several feet away and behind a desk. “It’s from the cover of ‘Room on Fire.’”
Allie looked at her quizzically.
“The Strokes?”
Allie shook her head. “Before my time.” She typed this information into the system, paused, then looked up at the convict standing in front of her.
“Alright. Your inmate number is 74032. Please repeat that back to me.”
Miranda felt her identity slipping away with each passing moment. “740… 32?”
Again, a tiny chuckle. “Good job.” For the first time in their encounter, Allie stood, and reached for her belt. “Hands behind your back, inmate.”
Miranda did as she was told, stunned at the disappearance of the respectful “Ms. Caron-Wright” from the officer. Allie came behind her – she must have been six inches shorter than her prisoner – and produced a pair of handcuffs, which she locked around Miranda’s wrists.
“Have a seat.” Miranda sank back into the chair somewhat awkwardly, twitching in shock as her bare ass touched the cold plastic. “Spread your legs,” ordered Officer Jacobs, as she pulled out a pair of leg irons. A few well-placed connections later and Miranda was secured, her legs spread wider than the legs of the chair and her hands cuffed in place behind its back.
Miranda looked up, helplessly, at the young officer. Allie stepped back, resting against the edge of the desk. Her eyes and her mind wandered over the body of the bound convict in front of her.
“Why do you think I took this job, inmate?”
Miranda gave her a confused look.
“This processing department is mostly a secretarial job with no real room for advancement. But I need some cash while I’m working on my startup – I have an honors degree from CalTech, you know – and this seemed to combine two of my interests. Do you know what those are, my dear 74302?”
Miranda was stunned. “I… I genuinely have no idea, officer.”
Allie smiled. “The first is naked women, and the second is making sure that bad girls get the punishment they deserve.”
Miranda fidgeted, her chains clinking as they restrained her. Allie took two steps forward and leaned in very close.
“You seem to fit both of those categories. Don’t you?”
At this, Allie reached one hand down and placed it between Miranda’s legs. The convict was suddenly aware of her pussy’s slickness – a fact that sent a wave of humiliation over her.
“Mmmm….” Allie said with a taunt in her voice. “You’re certainly a bad girl. All wet at being stripped naked, chained up, and thrown in prison.” Allie took a step back and pulled up her skirt until it was over her hips, revealing that the young officer was not wearing panties. “Because you know that’s where you belong.”
Miranda’s head spun with a cocktail of shame and horniness as Allie stepped forward and straddled her. Their pussies could not be more than a few inches apart. But there was no way for Miranda to access hers – or to close her legs.
Suddenly, Allie grabbed a fistful of Miranda’s hair, forcing the chained woman to look up at the officer. Allie’s eyes gleamed with delight as she saw the need etched all over Miranda’s face. Her other hand made its way to her clit, and she began to touch herself. “It’s too bad you have to spend the next seven years in here, 74302,” Allie teased between tiny moans.
“We could have had a lot of fun together on the outside. But… I think some time locked away will be good for you.” Allie’s hips rocked back and forth as she masturbated over her prisoner. As a huge orgasm hit her, she yanked Miranda’s face into her own for one long, hot kiss.
The orgasm subsided. Miranda had never needed to orgasm more in her entire life; her juices pooled around her naked thighs. Allie reached her hand down, teasingly, toward the convict’s pussy.
But then she stopped, bringing her mouth next to Miranda’s ear, whispering.
“I think you can wait seven years for this orgasm.”
Miranda groaned, and thrashed in her chair, but there was no release coming. Allie matter-of-factly stepped back and pulled down her skirt, reveling in Miranda’s furious and desperate stare. She threw a small orange package of what seemed to be clothing in Miranda’s lap.
“I’ll send a guard to make sure you’re dressed and then she’ll take you to your new home. I hope you enjoy your time here, 74302.” She paused at the door. “I know I’ve enjoyed your stay.”
And with that, Officer Jacobs was gone, leaving Miranda naked, chained, unquenchingly horny – and dreading the next steps of her incarceration.
“Please, sit down.”
The young officer, not looking up from her computer screen, gestured at the single hard plastic chair on the other side of her desk.
Miranda Caron-Wright paused. She did not want to enter this room, but she knew she had no choice in the matter. She let go of the heavy door and took the four steps over to the chair.
As she sat down, the door closed behind her with a loud, locking click.
The young officer was already practiced in the bureaucratic way. She seemed to pay no mind to the frightened woman on the other side of the desk. Miranda felt the seconds melt away slowly.
“Name?”
Miranda jumped a mile, prompting a tiny chuckle from the young officer. “Miranda Caron-Wright.”
“Relax, Ms. Caron-Wright. My name’s Allie Jacobs. I’m just here to get your paperwork sorted out.” Miranda could not help but admire the young officer’s form, squeezed into a tight blouse and skirt, the type that someone wearing work clothes for the first time might opt for. Allie’s raven pixie cut and fashionable black glasses framed a face that, under any other circumstances, Miranda would find deeply attractive.
The young officer typed something into her keyboard. “Date of birth?”
“May 7, 1990.”
Allie raised an eyebrow. “I almost didn’t believe the system,” she said, tapping her monitor. “Would’ve pegged you for younger.” Miranda blushed at the compliment, deeply out of place though it was. A few more strokes on Allie’s keyboard.
“Too bad you’ll be turning 30 in here.”
The reality of Miranda’s situation flooded back into her mind.
“It says here you’re starting a seven-year sentence today?” Allie inquired, staring at Miranda over the top of her glasses. “Looks like… tax fraud, mail fraud, the usual white-collar thing. Is that right?”
Miranda’s mouth dried out, and she took a beat too long to answer.
“Ms. Caron-Wright, charming as you are, we don’t have all day to get you processed.” A slightly harder edge crept into Allie’s voice.
Miranda gulped. “Yes… yes, Allie, that’s right, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. And that’ll be Officer Jacobs to you going forward.” The flatness with which the young officer said this sent goosebumps spreading over Miranda’s skin. “Now, take off your clothes and put them in the box.” Allie gestured over to an airport-style plastic bin in the corner of the small processing room.
Miranda slowly rose from her chair, slipping out of her sensible heels as she did so. She didn’t want to overdress for the occasion – but she didn’t want to show up to prison looking like a slob. Off, too, came her third-best pair of slacks and her fourth-best blouse, until she was left in just her black bra and thong.
She felt Officer Jacobs’ gaze as it turned briefly away from her paperwork. “All the way, Ms. Caron-Wright.”
Miranda unclasped the bra, letting her firm breasts spill out, and slid the thong down her shapely legs. The cold air of the intake room sent her nipples to attention, and as she bent over to place her underthings in the box she felt more exposed than she had ever been before.
“On the X, please. Hands behind your head, legs shoulder-width apart.”
Miranda complied. She was about six feet from Allie, who peered at the naked woman through her glasses.
“Hair, blonde. Eyes, blue. Height…” Allie focused on the chart behind Miranda. “Five-foot-nine. Weight?”
“125.”
“Thank you. Tattoos…” Allie ran her eyes all over Miranda’s body. “A pattern around the left upper arm – what is that?”
Miranda was not enjoying this invasive examination, even though her inspector was several feet away and behind a desk. “It’s from the cover of ‘Room on Fire.’”
Allie looked at her quizzically.
“The Strokes?”
Allie shook her head. “Before my time.” She typed this information into the system, paused, then looked up at the convict standing in front of her.
“Alright. Your inmate number is 74032. Please repeat that back to me.”
Miranda felt her identity slipping away with each passing moment. “740… 32?”
Again, a tiny chuckle. “Good job.” For the first time in their encounter, Allie stood, and reached for her belt. “Hands behind your back, inmate.”
Miranda did as she was told, stunned at the disappearance of the respectful “Ms. Caron-Wright” from the officer. Allie came behind her – she must have been six inches shorter than her prisoner – and produced a pair of handcuffs, which she locked around Miranda’s wrists.
“Have a seat.” Miranda sank back into the chair somewhat awkwardly, twitching in shock as her bare ass touched the cold plastic. “Spread your legs,” ordered Officer Jacobs, as she pulled out a pair of leg irons. A few well-placed connections later and Miranda was secured, her legs spread wider than the legs of the chair and her hands cuffed in place behind its back.
Miranda looked up, helplessly, at the young officer. Allie stepped back, resting against the edge of the desk. Her eyes and her mind wandered over the body of the bound convict in front of her.
“Why do you think I took this job, inmate?”
Miranda gave her a confused look.
“This processing department is mostly a secretarial job with no real room for advancement. But I need some cash while I’m working on my startup – I have an honors degree from CalTech, you know – and this seemed to combine two of my interests. Do you know what those are, my dear 74302?”
Miranda was stunned. “I… I genuinely have no idea, officer.”
Allie smiled. “The first is naked women, and the second is making sure that bad girls get the punishment they deserve.”
Miranda fidgeted, her chains clinking as they restrained her. Allie took two steps forward and leaned in very close.
“You seem to fit both of those categories. Don’t you?”
At this, Allie reached one hand down and placed it between Miranda’s legs. The convict was suddenly aware of her pussy’s slickness – a fact that sent a wave of humiliation over her.
“Mmmm….” Allie said with a taunt in her voice. “You’re certainly a bad girl. All wet at being stripped naked, chained up, and thrown in prison.” Allie took a step back and pulled up her skirt until it was over her hips, revealing that the young officer was not wearing panties. “Because you know that’s where you belong.”
Miranda’s head spun with a cocktail of shame and horniness as Allie stepped forward and straddled her. Their pussies could not be more than a few inches apart. But there was no way for Miranda to access hers – or to close her legs.
Suddenly, Allie grabbed a fistful of Miranda’s hair, forcing the chained woman to look up at the officer. Allie’s eyes gleamed with delight as she saw the need etched all over Miranda’s face. Her other hand made its way to her clit, and she began to touch herself. “It’s too bad you have to spend the next seven years in here, 74302,” Allie teased between tiny moans.
“We could have had a lot of fun together on the outside. But… I think some time locked away will be good for you.” Allie’s hips rocked back and forth as she masturbated over her prisoner. As a huge orgasm hit her, she yanked Miranda’s face into her own for one long, hot kiss.
The orgasm subsided. Miranda had never needed to orgasm more in her entire life; her juices pooled around her naked thighs. Allie reached her hand down, teasingly, toward the convict’s pussy.
But then she stopped, bringing her mouth next to Miranda’s ear, whispering.
“I think you can wait seven years for this orgasm.”
Miranda groaned, and thrashed in her chair, but there was no release coming. Allie matter-of-factly stepped back and pulled down her skirt, reveling in Miranda’s furious and desperate stare. She threw a small orange package of what seemed to be clothing in Miranda’s lap.
“I’ll send a guard to make sure you’re dressed and then she’ll take you to your new home. I hope you enjoy your time here, 74302.” She paused at the door. “I know I’ve enjoyed your stay.”
And with that, Officer Jacobs was gone, leaving Miranda naked, chained, unquenchingly horny – and dreading the next steps of her incarceration.
Great story!!
I believe the number is 74032. 
