There I was minding my own business and this cop pulls me over for a traffic violation. He asks for my driver's license, but I can't find it in my wallet. "You'll have to come with me," he says. I tell him I am Barbara Moore, not just anyone. I am well known around here, everyone at CF knows me. Surely he has heard of me.
He says that won't help. I am dragged out of my car, cuffed and seated in the back of the patrol car. Arriving at the station, I am taken before a Captain Smith. I decide to intimidate him, suggesting that I know a certain Judge Admi and a world famous attorney by the name of R. Rodent, and that I have connections in the media too ... a world-renown writer for the Chronicle, R Wragg, not to mention a sometimes PI who goes by the name of Tree. He looks at me skeptically and instructs his sergeant to take me down to see Officer Alvarez in the 'special treatments' section.
Next thing I know I am forced to strip our of my dress, and then my bra and kinis, and this tough looking muscular police woman does a quick cavity search and then has me cuffed spread-eagled to the bars of a cell. She produces a fearsome-looking, multi-tailed leather whip and begins to yell at me in Spanish. I don't understand a word, but can tell she is pissed at something.....the one English phrase she keeps repeating through gritted teeth is "feelthy reech bitch". Could it be she just has something against my kind?
I protest loudly, alternately shouting obscenities and begging, pulling uselessly at the cuffs that bind me to the cold metal bars, and looking fearfully at the whip in her hand. She struts up to me, gags me and shouts "shut your feelthy mouth reech bitch". Then she steps back and begins to flog me mercilessly with her whip, first back and forth across my soft wobbling breasts, then my down my flinching tummy, and finally and most shockingly an underhanded stroke delivered squarely between my spread legs that tears deep into my defenseless pussy. I scream and cry, but the sounds just reverberate off the stone cellar walls. No one is listening.
She finishes, tosses the whip at my feet, grabs me by the chin, glares into my eyes, turns on her heels, and switches off the light as she ascends the stairs.
I wake up in a cold sweat, realizing I must have fallen asleep again playing late at night on cf. The screen of my computer is still lit, opened to a thread entitled "opportunities" and displaying a pic of a naked woman standing in front of a Latina police woman with a whip.
