Witness Ch. 01

He poured water into a plastic cup and bought it around the bed so she could use her free hand to hold it. He noted her red acrylic fingernails.

"Were you hooking?" Elliot stood beside the bed.

"Lawyer," Poppy looked him in the eye defiantly.

"I haven't Mirandized you yet. This is just a friendly chat," the cop gave Poppy a smile that would have melted most girls' hearts.

"I'm not going to get all wet in the wee-wee because you smiled at me... Lawyer," Poppy finished her water and held out the cup for more.

The cop ignored her and reached for her handbag, taking it off the bedside table.

"Hey!" Poppy tried to stop him but the handcuffs brought her up short.

He spilled the contents out onto the bed between her legs and took a pen out of his inside pocket and began to poke around the contents of her purse with it.

"You don't wanna touch anything; might get an STD," Poppy said sarcastically.

"Where is your fix kit? You get time to stash it before the EMTs arrived?" the cop mumbled and fixed her with an icy stare.

Poppy returned his steely gaze and turned her inner arms towards him. There were no tell-tale tracks or needle scars.

The cop just grunted and opened the little cupboard under the table and threw her clothes on the bed.

"Anything in there gonna stick me?" he asked.

Poppy just glared at him.

He picked up her blouse by the collar with two fingers and patted it down. He did the same with her fur coat. He made a face as he picked up her hotpants. He found the zippered pocket inside the back of the garment and threw the money on the bed. He picked through the notes with his pen, all tens and twenties; about two hundred dollars.

"Busy night?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question.

"Who was the john?" the cop changed tack.

"Sargent Joe Blow, twelfth precinct, came over for his weekly blow and go. Of course he didn't pay me but I put it on credit for him as employment insurance," Poppy said caustically.

"You're a real smart ass," Elliot smiled.

It was an open secret that some cops took freebies off the hookers in exchange for letting them off misdemeanour charges or as payment for warning them of an impending raid.

"Well I got a real good one for you Poppy. Those two men shot dead at the Metropole are made guys. If you had anything to do with the hit you're going to be collateral damage when they clean up. If you witnessed the hit, whoever did it is going to see it the same way. Either way you're fucked," the cop patted her foot.

"We know who you are and where you live and if we can find that out in the time it takes for you to be carted down here and put in a hospital bed, you can bet they already know too."

"Who was the john?" the cop asked again.

"Fuck you... lawyer," Poppy glared at the cop.

"Suit yourself but you're giving us a statement either here or downtown," the cop went over to the door, then stopped and turned to her.

"Classy girl... no panties," the cop smiled dryly and left the room.

Poppy could see the uniformed officer standing outside the door when the cop exited.

"Fuck!" Poppy exhaled loudly.

This was some serious shit! She stared at the ceiling and all she could see was the black muzzle of the big semi-automatic right there in her face. She flinched when she recalled the weapon misfiring. Then she saw the face of the man holding the gun. His head was big; he had cauliflower ears, a bulbous broken nose and deep set piggy eyes which were devoid of emotion. He had a thin scar that ran from the outer edge of his right eye, down his cheek to the corner of his thick lips.

She would never forget that face as much as she wanted to.

An hour later a doctor came in and checked her vitals and then did some tests. It was obvious that he had nothing but disdain for her; treating her was beneath him.

"Well?" Poppy asked as the doctor scribbled on her chart and ignored her.

The doctor went to the door and left it open as he spoke to the cop standing guard.

"She's staying in tonight for observation. I'll release her tomorrow morning," he said to the uniformed cop.

"Answer your question?" the doctor glanced at her and then closed the door.

*****

Poppy was released into police custody and as much as she protested she was told that she would be going straight down to the stationhouse to be interviewed. This meant that she didn't have a change of clothes and had to wear her street attire to the police station. They put her into the back of a paddy wagon; the police guard accompanied her, sitting in the back, directly across from her.

"This is bullshit; I'm not under arrest," Poppy sulked, popping her gum.

The policeman just shrugged his shoulders.

At least at the hospital she had been able to shower and fix her hair and makeup, but her clothes carried the funk of the streets. The pantyhose she was wearing were the same ones that the john had fucked her in last night and the crotch was still damp. It was warm in the van and she had taken off her coat and placed it in her lap. The wound above her temple throbbed vaguely but wasn't painful. She ripped the small adhesive bandage from her temple and threw it on the floor.

The cop leered at her, his gaze started at her face then moved down to her breasts and openly ogled them. He was middle-aged, overweight and sweating profusely. He loosened his tie and mopped his brow with a kerchief.

"I got a lawyer waiting for me at the slammer?" Poppy asked.

The policeman shrugged again, his eyes not leaving her breasts.

Poppy rummaged in her handbag and brought out her smokes and lighter.

"You can't smoke in here," the cop grunted, still leering at her tits.

Poppy looked at him and thought he was about a carton of Winston's, a case of bourbon and four Philly cheesesteaks away from his first heart attack. She decided to help him along the way.

Poppy unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing her flimsy lace bra which barely covered her milky-white breasts, her areola visible through the translucent black fabric. Then she put her faux fur on the seat beside her and opened her legs wide. The tight hotpants clung to her form. She watched beads of sweat form on the copper's upper lip which he licked away with his fat tongue.

"What about now?" she put a cigarette between her lipsticked lips and smiled seductively around it.

The policeman only had eyes for her breasts and her groin and made no response.

To further entertain the copper she slipped a hand inside her bra and adjusted a boob then the same hand drifted down between her legs and she circled her crotch with her finger, the long red acrylic fingernail mesmerising the cop who didn't say a word when she lit her cigarette.

Poppy laughed inwardly. Men were so easy to manipulate. She bet this rube didn't even know that she was trans.

Detective Elliot Granger was waiting at the precinct. He escorted her through the police station to the Custody Sergeant. She saw the usual suspects waiting to be processed out front of the duty sergeant's desk. Street scum: pickpockets, car thieves, muggers and hookers.

"Hey Poppy," a young girl in heavy makeup, a cooch-curtain miniskirt and fuck-me high-heels waved at her.

"You getting the VIP treatment? Send that hunk back to process me when he's finished with you. He can give me a cavity search any time," the girl giggled.

The Desk Sergeant told her to shut the fuck up and Elliot gripped Poppy's upper arm tighter and led her out back before Poppy could respond.

"What we got here?" the Custody Sergeant growled and studied the paperwork on his desk.

"Poppy Evesham. Possible material witness to the murders at the Metropole last night," Elliot read from his police notebook.

This got the Custody Sergeant's attention. He looked up from his desk and studied Poppy.

"Why is she here? Why not take her to an interview room?" he frowned at Elliot.

"She's not cooperating. I need you to put her in holding until her lawyer gets here," Elliot replied.

"She under arrest?" the sergeant asked.

Elliot shrugged his shoulders.

"She's not cooperating. I consider her a flight risk," Elliot replied curtly.

"You in the system honey?" the sergeant asked Poppy courteously.

Poppy nodded and studied her feet.

The Custody Sergeant fiddled around with some paperwork on his desk for a while until he found what he was looking for.

"She's considered vulnerable Elliot. I can't put her in the tank with the other men," the sergeant glared at Elliot.

"I can put her in the pussy tank if you like?" the Custody Sergeant offered an alternative.

"Fuck that; too easy on her," Elliot growled.

Elliot ruminated for a minute and then leaned in and whispered to the sergeant.

"Look... she's not cooperating. I need some leverage here. An hour or two in the tank with those thugs and she'll be begging to talk," Elliot explained.

"Not on my watch," the Custody Sergeant crossed his arms defiantly.

"Gimme the fucking phone!" Elliot snatched the phone off the desk and had a guarded conversation with someone and then handed the receiver to the sergeant who stiffened when he realised who he was talking to.

Poppy watched all this with some amusement. She knew that strict rules regarding the holding of transgender women in custody had been recently introduced and she also knew that most police officers resented them and most paid them no heed.

"You're countersigning the custody log," the sergeant bristled at Elliot.

"I ain't going down for this on my own if anything happens to her," the sergeant began the processing procedure.

"Her? I thought we'd all just agreed the witness is not a female," Elliot grinned as he filled in his section of the log.

Poppy's handbag was taken from her and the barred door to the holding cells opened and a young policeman approached her and gave her a cursory pat down.

"Come with me," the policeman grunted as he led her through the door to the holding cells.

Elliot took up station on the other side of Poppy, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You'll be held in custody for your own protection until your lawyer arrives," Elliot said smugly.

"How long will that be?" Poppy replied curtly but inside she was scared.

"Who knows? Anytime you wish to be interviewed without legal counsel, just call out and I'll have you out of here in a jiffy. I'll get you breakfast and coffee and we can have a nice long chat," Elliot said snarkily.

The small procession stopped in front of a cell full of men. They leered at Poppy and licked their lips in anticipation. They didn't jeer or call out obscenities or behave in any way that might give the police second thoughts about locking Poppy up with them. They wanted her inside the cell with them. They would take it from there.

"You're not serious! Ok the joke's over, take me to the pussy tank," Poppy began to resist the officer who had hold of her upper arm.

The uniformed officer unlocked the holding cell whilst Poppy squirmed in his grip. Elliot held her other arm to prevent her from fleeing.

"Feel free to suck a few cocks while you're waiting for your lawyer," he laughed sarcastically as he thrust her into the tank.

"Might as well make a few bucks while I'm here," Poppy called after him but inside she was petrified.

The cell stunk of sweat, testosterone and the reek coming from the single open toilet in the corner. As soon as the policemen were out of sight the men formed a circle around Poppy studying her like she was a specimen they were about to dissect.

Poppy studied the men in return. There were eight of them, all hardened criminals. She figured she might be able to take out two of the weedier ones with her nails and heels before she was overpowered. Better to be raped by six men than eight she thought pragmatically.

Then she saw a huge dark-skinned black man sitting on the steel bench bolted to the wall. He was shirtless and his upper torso was heavily muscled, his arms so big that they couldn't rest comfortably by his side and his neck was like a telegraph pole atop of which was an angry-looking face. His hair was styled in a cropped afro.

"Hey you? Mister T. You not goin' do nothing?" Poppy called out to him.

"Why would I want to do anything?" he gave her a malicious grin.

"These boys goin' ruin all this fine pussy which I figure is rightfully yours," Poppy called back, closely watching the men circling her.

"How you figure?" his grin didn't waver

It would be a longshot but Poppy hoped her quickly hatched plan would work. The men continued to circle her but they hadn't pounced on her yet, only because the big black man was talking to her. He was a colossus and could snap any of them like a twig. Most of them were skinny little lowlifes and even the burliest of them would be no match for the black man-mountain sitting nonchalantly on the bench.

"I figure these boys are going to take what they want from me none too gently. I'm going to fight but they goin' do what they goin' do and when they finished I'm going to be a mess," Poppy called back.

"However... if you was to decide that I'm yours and no one else's; I'd be more than happy to look after your needs. I'd show you a fine time willingly," Poppy gave him a salacious smile.

She saw the hesitation and disappointment on the faces of the men surrounding her.

"I could just take what they leave. Or I could just go first and throw you to them after," the man grinned back at her.

"What's left won't be worth having. I'm goin' fight them so I'll be missing some teeth and I'll be banged up pretty bad and full of nasty jailhouse cum. Why not go first and keep me for your own. I'll look after you fine honey... if you look after me?" Poppy smiled back but under her bravado she was scared out of her wits.

The man-mountain stood, the top of his head just clearing the low ceiling. The men in the circle looked even more hesitant.

"Jesus Tyrone! Don't let this sissy, white-ass bitch tell you what to do. We can all fuck her... you go first of course," a weasely black man in tight pants and tank top whined.

Tyrone glared at him and the weasel looked away.

"I tell you what Darnell. You and your punk friends back away from my girl and I won't break your arm and tell your momma that you wanted to poke some white boy up the ass," the grin on Tyrone's face was malevolent.

The circle broke up, the men desolate and angry but pragmatic. Tyrone was likely to get bored with the pretty tranny then they would all get their go.

Tyrone beckoned Poppy with is forefinger and she dutifully complied, it was only reasonable that she pay the piper, she had negotiated the outcome after all.

She sidled up to Tyrone and clung to him, stroking his huge chest and nuzzling his upper arm. Poppy wasn't short, especially in her heels, but this man was huge.

"You boys look away. In fact you motherfuckers line up on them bars facing the corridor. Give us some privacy and keep a lookout for five-o, any of them Barney's come this way you call out," her growled.

The men complied, lining up against the bars so that no one could see in and they could keep lookout.

Tyrone sat down on the bench and lifted Poppy into his lap so she was facing him.

"So you going to look after me fine hey momma? Well get to doin' what you do," he grinned down at her.

Poppy put her arms around his thick neck and raised her face to his and gave him a questioning smile. Some men didn't kiss pros. He smiled and nodded and Poppy pressed her lips against his. They were full and surprisingly sensuous. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her and Poppy felt his penis thicken under her buttocks.

They kissed passionately, Poppy was resigned to her fate but she had to admit that she was enjoying it. The big man was tender with her, stroking her face and holding her close.

"Them titties real?" he pushed her away from him a little and unbuttoned her blouse.

She didn't answer; better he should find out for himself and he wasn't disappointed. Poppy's firm full breasts popped out of her cups and he lowered his mouth to them and suckled on her nipples, alternating left to right and back again. Poppy's nipples hardened and she leaned back, a throaty growl escaped her as Tyrone worked on her breasts. His cock got bigger.

"Ok princess, let's see what you can do," he gently lowered her to the floor.

She ignored the filthy concrete floor and knelt between his huge thighs. Poppy had been with bodybuilders before and they often had tiny penises because of the roids but Tyrone did not disappoint. He had a healthy six inches and what he lacked in length he made up for in girth.

She freed it from his track pants and went to work with her tongue, teasing him to full tumescence. She tickled his fraenulum with the tip of her tongue and licked his sac, suckling on his testes and then went back to work licking his shaft and bulbous glans.

"Come on sugar, you know what daddy wants," he pushed her face onto his cock and she obligingly took it in her mouth.

Her plan was to keep fellating Tyrone for as long as possible, if necessary inducing his orgasm and swallowing his load, wasting as much time as possible until they released her from the holding cell.

"Yeah, that's the stuff," Tyrone groaned as Poppy expertly sucked his cock.

She worked her mouth up and down the veiny appendage, using her tongue, tracing the veins and slobbering around his glans. She was swallowing a lot of precum and was worried that Tyrone would orgasm too soon so she slowed down.

"That's a good girl. Tyrone's gonna fill your ass-pussy not your mouth," he chuckled.

Poppy fellated Tyrone for about half an hour, bringing him to extremis and then backing off. The inmates lined up against the bars craned their neck to watch Poppy's pretty face bobbing up and down in Tyrone's lap, her long blonde hair with the coloured streaks draped across his thighs, her tight ass in the clingy hotpants pushed high in air, her long legs bent at the knees and the bottom of her heels all visible to them, making them horny and jealous.

"Ok, enough sugar," Tyrone put his hands under Poppy's arms and physically lifted off the floor and dropped her onto his lap.

He pawed at her hotpants.

"Let me," Poppy whispered and kissed him long and hard while she unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts.

She shucked them down her ass and rolled down her pantyhose, exposing her buttocks. If a guard came she could quickly pull them up.

The men lining the bars were blatantly ignoring Tyrone's directive to face the corridor. They watched the spectacle intently and a few of them had their cocks out and were stroking them.

Poppy had no lube so she spat in her hand and worked the spit and Tyrone's precum along his shaft and guided it to her sphincter. She wished that she had a condom but she was in no position to complain.

She resisted Tyrone's attempt to stab her with his engorged cock.

"Take it slowly honey; I'm tight and you're big," she bit his earlobe and he moaned.

Telling the john's that they were big always made them feel good.

She nestled Tyrone's glans in her sphincter and kissed him passionately as she slowly lowered herself onto it. It hurt a little but she took her time, letting his flesh enter her tight anus slowly. Tyrone was enjoying it. He had his arms wrapped around Poppy, pressing her breasts to his chest and she was kissing him sweetly; he was in no rush.

When she had Tyrone fully inside her, Poppy rocked back and forth in his lap, letting his cock move only a little in and out of her. She heard one of the other inmates gasp followed by the spatter of his cum on the concrete floor. She smiled around the kiss. The normally loud and rowdy holding cell was silent except for the sounds of Tyrone and Poppy's fucking. The other men were transfixed.