tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Jr. Deputy

The Jr. Deputy

bydeputy duffy©

Vermont in the springtime. The weather warms. The flower's bloom. The bird's sing. Of course this story has nothing to do with any of that.

I was sitting, at my stool, at the Crazy Horse, blowing off a little steam, by working on my tenth Budweiser. I was just coming from a meeting with the sheriff, or as I also call him, Dad. I wasn't real happy with him, (as is often the case,) because he informed me that for the spring I would be working with a Jr. Deputy. It's a program designed to take a youth, who has visited us in the past, some, many times, and work with them. Sort of like a big brother. We try to take them under our wings and show them that being on the right side of the law is the way to go, or at least that's the theory.

The Jr. Deputies handle light duties, traffic details, answering the phones, and sometimes we even take them with us on routine follow up calls. Sometimes we even have them watch the prisoners in the holding cells and that kind of stuff.

My Problem? I really just don't like playing babysitter, as you are still responsible for their actions.

A couple of days later, I met with my Jr. Deputy. His name was Kevin McGrath. He was a 19 year old, tall and lanky guy. He had an artistic talent. Unfortunately he used public properties as his backdrop.

Kevin was a nice enough guy to hang around with, (even though I knew from the second I met him that he had no desire, whatsoever, to make a career out of law enforcement.) We even hung around after work and played a lot of hoops. (Ok, he kicked my ass at hoops, but I carried the gun!)

I could tell he was more than a little bored with the trivial duties that I was assigning him. So for a change of pace, a couple of days a week, I would let him tag along as I patrolled High street. It was the most active street in our coverage, as it led to the highways. His only duty was to watch, but it was better than answering phones. (I assumed.)

One sunny day, (about half way into Kevin's three month program,) we rolled up to an empty, banged up station wagon. I wasn't sure if it was banged up before it hit the telephone pole, or not, but it certainly was now.

After calling for a Hook, I quickly found the driver stumbling down the road, about a mile away. She was obviously intoxicated and luckily for her, apparently uninjured. After a trip to the hospital, (she just had some bumps and bruises) I took her back to the station and she was booked for DUI.

She was so drunk that I'm sure she will never remember the strip search. Although I'm sure Kevin will never forget it, as it was the first one I let him observe, and you never forget your first. She was a little on the heavy side, (alcohol will do that to yah) so I told Kevin we would have to do a little better next time, with a wink. Still the look on his face was priceless when I told the young woman to take off her bra and panties. Funny, when she did, she asked me for her pajamas, while also calling me mom.

After she was buck naked, (I skipped the cavity search -- didn't want her peeing on me) we got her into a large T-shirt that says, "Property of Vermont State police," on the front. It was a little harder than normal, because in her drunken state, she favored to just stay naked at that point. We finally walked her to the holding cell. Just in time, as it turned out, because she began puking in the lone toilet, as soon as we got her in there. Her two roommates, REALLY happy to see her.

When I got back upstairs, I remember that she called me mom, and I figured I'd better call hers, even though she was 20-years-old. I got the number from her wallet, and was all too soon taking to a raucous woman. I calmly told her where her daughter was and hung up. As it had been my experience that it was futile to converse with a stunned parent on the phone.

About a half hour later, I heard a commotion at the front desk. It didn't take me long to figure out that "MOM" was here. She stormed past the deputy working the front desk and headed right for me. As I assumed he told her that I was the arresting officer.

"How dare you arrest my daughter?" She sneered. "She's never drank in her life!"

(By just her opening statement, I knew I was in for a headache with this one.)

"My daughter had an accident and you throw her in a cage, like an animal. She should be at the hospital!" she hissed, her squeaky voice, rattling my bones.

"I'm a lawyer. She has rights, and I demand to see her this instant!" she barked, as she slammed her fist into my desk, while also tossing me her business card.

(I just sat back in my chair, as she huffed and puffed away.)

"Well don't just sit there; take me to her this instant!" she shrieked.

"Are you done?" I finally offered. The older lady folded her arms over her chest and offered her steely gaze to me.

"Your daughter has been involved in a accident...yes...but we had her checked out at the hospital, before we booked her. The doctor said she was fine, just a little drunk," I said, before handing her a copy of the doctor's report.

"Now, are you here as her mother, or are you here as her attorney?" I could see her pondering my question, as she had to know I asked it for a reason.

"I am both," she finally mumbled.

"Well, if you're her attorney, I would tell you to come back in the morning, for her arraignment. If you're here as her mom, I will let you see her tonight," I said, not satisfied with her answer. She quickly folded her arms again and stared me down.

"I would like to see my daughter," she said, in the calmest voice she had displayed so far.

I handed her a couple of forms to fill out. She looked them over and then sighed them, before handing them back to me.

"Ok, follow me," I said, as I led her into the processing room. "Wait here."

I went back out front and glanced over at Kevin, who was watching the surveillance monitors of the holding cells, intently. It seemed to be his favorite duty, as he may have had an voyeuristic disposition.

"Hey Kev, you want to stay here, or do you want to join me in the processing room?"

He was torn at first, but when I smiled at him, he just returned that "you have to be kidding me" look. I didn't even wait for his answer, I just walked into the processing room and when I went to close the door, he just slid in behind me.

"Ok, Stephanie."

"That's Mrs. Baxter to you," she interrupted me.

"Ah, Stephanie, this is Deputy McGrath," I said pointing to Kevin while purposely leaving off the Jr. part. (And she may have been Mrs. Baxter, to Mr. Baxter, but to me she was only Stephanie, a whinny, arrogant, snotty, feminist lawyer bitch, or maybe that was just a quick impression of her.)

"Where is my daughter?" She snapped.

"She's down stairs, in the holding cell, but before we can take you to her we must do a quick search for contraband," I announced, before all hell broke loose, as the lawyer went on a ten-minute spiel about female rights and searches and all that fun stuff.

I grabbed Kevin by the arm and led him out of the processing room, and left Stephanie in the locked room, to let her cool off. (But, in the small room with its bright lights, and no windows, or ventilation, well it's anything but cool.)

"I can't believe this," Kevin said, as soon as we got out of the room. "She was the lawyer that trashed my family when I lived in Mass."

"Yeah right," I chuckled.

"I'm dead serious," he snapped. (I could tell by his face that he was, or at least I thought he was, it just seemed implausible.) As I sat down at my desk, Kevin went on to tell me the story of when he was 11 or 12, living in Massachusetts. She was the prosecutor that put both his father and brother behind bars, for insurance fraud. It was the reason Kevin moved up to Vermont to live with his grandparents, in the first place. Moving away from the rest of family and friends. Now, as I think you already noticed, I'm not a real fan of lawyers myself, but I don't think I sported the deep down distain that Kevin showed for them, especially for this one.

He was becoming angrier by the second. I had to calm him down several times, and tell him to go wash his face, while also reminding him that we were on the right side of the law. (Of course that line can get awful fuzzy at times.)

While he was in the bathroom, I remember a warm feeling invading my body. Like an evil entity invading. Or maybe I just saw a chance to show off in front of the boy.

Whatever it was I knew we were all in for a long night.

We finally went back into the processing room. Stephanie was sitting on the large steel table, droplets of sweat on her forehead. Yet she was still dressed in her business suit jacket, if only for the time being.

"Ok Stephanie, are we ready for the search?"

(She just looked at me in disgust and hopped off the table.)

"Stand on the yellow line," I ordered.

When she stood on the line, she just looked at me and tapped her foot on the line. I don't know how she meant it, but I took it as a dare. (And if there is one thing that you don't want to do, it's dare a Duffy.)

"Ok now, Stephanie take off the jacket and hand it to the deputy." I said, sternly.

She unsnapped the jacket and tossed it to Kevin, whom I told to search it and then hang it up on the clothes hook drilled into the wall. Stephanie was standing with her hands on her hips. She was dressed in a white silk blouse and a black skirt that went down just past her knees. I noticed that she had black shoes on, (but sadly, no heels) so I asked her to remove them next. Stephanie kicked them at Kevin and returned to her daring pose.

"Now Stephanie, unbutton the blouse."

"Now way! That's as much as I'm taking off, you little pervert," she shrieked.

For the next ten minutes we were subjected to another rant from this lawyer. Finally I showed her the forms, which she signed, that said a full-search was required to visit a person in our custody. (Of course "full-search" was up to the searcher's discretion, and usually just meant a quick "pat down") It was now my turn to cross my arms and stand in front of her, waiting.

I will give her credit though, as it was the longest I ever waited. Had to be a good twenty-minutes, before she finally reached up and began to unbutton her blouse. Glancing at Kevin, I had to elbow him, as he was sporting an evil grin on his face. (Even though I told him about the stone face part.) Stephanie finally had the blouse unbuttoned, but again she argued when I told her to un-tuck it from her skirt and hold it open. I went back to my arms crossed stance, as we played the waiting game again. Finally she pulled the blouse out of her skirt and quickly pulled it open and just as quickly closed it.

"Please grab a-hold of the blouse and spread your arms and leave them there," I growled.

"Right!" She snapped, as she shot me a look that could kill. (Didn't she know that she had already lit my fire and now she was just adding more gasoline?)

"Anytime, but in reality, I have all night," I said now tapping MY foot. "But I think the taxpayers would appreciate your cooperation, as I'm already on overtime with yah."

Finally after a few more minutes, in a huff, she gabbed her blouse and spread it open with her hands. Her bra covered breasts now exposed to our view. I wasn't really surprised to find her bra to be one of those old fashion white ones.

I had her turn around in a circle in this position, before I barked the next command. "Now hand the blouse to the deputy," which brought more protests, before Kevin was finally examining it.

"Skirt next," I said, as I prepared for her predictable protests.

"I will have your badge for this," was her last remark, as she unzipped the skirt and handed it over to a smirking Kevin. (Basketball? I should have been playing poker with Kev, 'cause his poker face sucked.)

Stephanie was now left wearing her bra, a girdle and pantyhose. After I had her turn around again, I motioned with my hand for her to take off the girdle, as honestly, I just didn't think I could say it with a straight face.

After she called me a "jerk," "pig," "vermin," and a "Cub Scout," (I get that one a lot) she started to remove the girdle and handed it over. Then she surprised me by rolling down her pantyhose and handing them to Kevin as well. Stephanie was now standing in her white bra and a large pair of conservative white panties, that looked like they could have sailed a small boat.

"Now turn around and put your hands on the wall." I managed, before a howl of protests drowned me out.

"Just wait a second, if I have to do this now, just to see my daughter." She shrieked, as if the proverbial light bulb went off. "Then what did my daughter have to do?"

"Your daughter?" I said trying to choose my words for effect. "She had to strip, strip to the skin for us...Just like you."

"You fucking pigs!" she screamed out. "She's just a baby."

(Geez.... Just how old do you have to be, to not be considered a baby anymore?)

The room was becoming almost unbearably hot, as the three of us stood there waiting for the other to blink. She wasn't just gunna have my badge now, she was also going to sue me for sexual harassment and misuse of force. Well if there is one thing I've learnt so far its, if you're going to get sued, make it worth it.

Finally, I had to help her into position. Now behind Stephanie, I pulled on the back of her bra straps and ran a finger under them, making my way over her shoulders. I ran a finger under the cups of her bra and just lightly over her nipple. Stephanie quickly spun around. Venom on her breath, as she raised her hand.

"Think about it," I managed, before I felt the palm of her hand slap across my left cheek. The sounds of smacking flesh echoing of the walls, my eyes instantly glassy. I saw her hand raising for an other swing, but I caught it this time and spun her back around. Forcing her into the wall, while quickly finding my cuffs. I slapped them on her wrists and raised her hands over her head and hooked them into a hook that was bolted into the wall, for just this purpose.

While a stunned Kevin watched her, I went to the bathroom to wash my face and clear my eyes, while also trying to regain my composer. I spent some time typing up the paper work, before entering the processing room again. I read Stephanie her rights, over her cursing, as I explained how she was going to get to spend the night with her daughter, after all.

"Ok, now we can continue the search," I said, as I felt around the back of her straps again.

"Don't you dare fucking touch me!" She screamed, as she spun her head around and spat at me. Fighting my natural instinct to smack her one, (as that just wouldn't be cool.) I went over to the large table and unlocked the lone draw. I found the mask we use for "Spitters." Its like a doctor's mask, but it's made of leather.

"I'm glad you're here Kevin, so you can witness this," I said, as I strapped on the mask, despite Stephanie's defiant actions. (I could also use the witness in court, although I knew that there wasn't a Judge in a state that would rule against my father, or more importantly for me...his son.)

I went to the table again and found the medical scissors. I made sure she could see them, before I ran them under her bra strap, cutting a shoulder strap, and then the next. Reaching around her body, I ran the knife up her stomach. I cut the bra through the middle, right between her breasts. The large bra fell to the floor, revealing her two large slightly saggy breasts to our view.

Kevin, (making a simple rookie mistake,) bent down to pick up the bra, and received a knee to the head for his effort. It was now Kevin's turn to use the bathroom to clear his head. While he was doing that I went to the supply closet and found the seldom used leather straps. I waited for Kevin to return, as I figured he would want to assist me in the next part.

When Kevin joined me, we strapped Stephanie's kicking feet together and then un-hooked her from the wall hook and laid her face down on the dirty concrete floor. After removing the handcuffs, we strapped her fighting hands behind her back. We brought her legs up, and attached her hands and legs together, effectively hog-tying her.

I gabbed her by the arms, Kevin by the legs, and we carried her squirming body down the stairs to the holding cell in the cold basement. Opening the cell door, we carried her in and unceremoniously dumped her on the concrete floor. She shrieked out, under the mask. I must have been her red-hot body -- hitting the cold floor.

I glanced at her daughter, passed out on the far cot and pulled her T-shirt down. (As somehow it had made its way up over her breasts.)

"Ok girls, play nice," I said with a laugh, glancing at the two other women sitting on the other cot. Kevin and I closed the cell door behind us and breathed a sigh of relief. Both of us were simply drenched in sweat. We made our way up stairs and washed up. I hung up my uniform top in my locker, and locked my gun belt up in my desk, as my shift had officially ended an hour ago. I asked Kevin if he wanted to leave, but for the first time he said he wanted to hang around.

I went into the break room and poured a couple of beers into tall plastic cups. (Just don't tell my dad.) We made our way to the holding cell monitors and I relieved the deputy who was watching them.

"Thanks man, that was cool," Kevin whispered. "Man, I don't even think she recognized me, but I'll never forget her, or today."

"Yeah, that was a little different," I said proudly.

"I know, but do yah think that bitch is really gonna sue?" Kevin asked.

"Maybe, but you never know," I said, as I shrugged my shoulders.

I really didn't know what was going to happen as we watched the monitors, which I usually feel, is as exciting, as watching grass grow. But if I knew Foxy and Georgia at all, they were in a playful mood, at least if her daughter's T-shirt was any indication.

Foxy and Georgia were a couple of tough biker chick types, who were in the holding cell for beating up some guy at the Crazy Horse. (I take it he didn't know that they played for the other team.)

Kevin and I sat and watched, and had a couple more beers. Basically we were just watching Stephanie squirm and roll around on the cold floor. She did seem to calm down after she saw her daughter sleeping comfortably on her cote. I went to take a leak and when I came back Kevin had moved closer to the screen, his jaw wide open. Quickly taking a seat next to him, we watched the two biker chicks start to hover around the bound and gagged lawyer.

"Kev, you think I should have told them she was a lawyer?" I asked, but Kevin was too busy watching to answer. The two women started slowly poking and prodding Stephanie's defenseless body, before they started to really give her a thorough going over. I was ready to intervene if things got out of hand, although the women, in my skewed opinion, never did. Instead they just used Stephanie as their little plaything, exploring her body to the fullest. Then, when I guess they had their fill of Stephanie, they turned their attention to each other.

While the two women played with each other, I asked Kevin which of the women he liked the best. He quickly said, "the big titted one," which I assumed was Foxy, as she did have a couple of huge torpedo style tits on her, and a large ass to go along with 'em. The other biker chick, Georgia was the better looking of the two, but her body had seen its better days, and the tattoos didn't do a thing for her.

After a couple of hours of watching, the action had died out, but I could tell Kevin was still all fired up. Fueled by alcohol, I made my way down to the holding cell, and had a brief talk with the two biker broads. Then I turned my attention to a tranquil Stephanie. I pulled up her panties and untied her hands and feet. I took off her mask, and gave her a T-shirt. She barely moved, as the fight had seemingly been sucked out of her, quite literally in fact.

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