Heather Brown

Raped policewoman

CHAPTER ONE

The sun was going down as I yawned and forced myself out of bed. Most people get up when the sun comes up, but here I was making my way into the kitchen for my first cup of coffee at sundown. I had been doing it for almost two months now and my body still hadn't adjusted. By the time I finally did get used to it the bastards would change my schedule and I'd be right back where I started, futilely trying to catch up on the hours I had lost.

As I sat in the kitchen nursing a cup of discount instant coffee that tasted like boiled eucalyptus leaves, I asked myself for the thousandth time why I was putting myself through this shit. Here I was, a 25-year-old woman with a degree in sociology and an IQ of 134, keeping the hours of a night watchman.

You probably think I'm a dog, a regular bow-wow. Well, forget it. Everybody who's seen me says I'm attractive and I have to admit it's true myself: the bulges I see in men's trousers when I walk by don't lie. I have long lustrous raven hair, high pointed tits as firm as marble, long sinewy legs that love to wrap themselves around things, what everybody says is a terrific looking ass, and a cunt framed by a luxuriant growth of silky black pussy hair that can fuck all night. Right now, if I had a normal job, I'd be getting off work and undoubtedly some great looking stud would be taking me out for drinks and dinner and later we'd hit the sack at my place or his and his hot steaming prick would be pumping up my throbbing pussy.

So what was I doing sitting in a drafty kitchen in a ratty bathrobe choking down a cup of lukewarm instant mud waiting to go drag my ass around the crummiest parts of the city with a bunch of people who loathed everything about me that theoretically made me attractive and in general hated my guts?

To prove something, I guess. Despite the advice of almost all my friends, I went ahead and joined the police force and became a policewoman.

After I got out of college three years ago, I was ready to conquer the world. I had so many plans and dreams and was ambitious to realize my objectives and make something of myself. But all that got me was a series of job interviews where they asked me how fast I could type and a lot of ogling looks. I probably could have capitalized on the latter and fucked and sucked my way toward prosperity, but I like to feel that I've got some integrity and am the kind of girl who screws for fun. Somehow, the idea of sucking off some old fart's shriveled up cock or letting some overweight businessman practically crush me while he sticks his puny prick in me turns me off. I like my men strong, willing, and ready to go all night to satisfy me, and I like to pick them. I don't want them picking me like I was some dumb little cunt in a whorehouse without enough brains to do anything but live by her pussy.

Well, anyway, what my stubbornness got me was a succession of jobs, each one worse than the last because I had terrible references from being too independent and invariably telling my boss what he could do to himself – which got me fired. When the newspaper carried an article indicating the police department had to start hiring women for regular line duty, I decided to apply for a job. If I was qualified, they'd have to hire me, and I was sure I could pass any test they gave me and do as well as or better than any man.

None of my friends like cops, and my favorite professor from college – with whom I'd kept in close touch – surprised me when she told me my friends called them "pigs". "Melanie," Professor Higgins said, "there's not one element of what you were taught 'should be' in your courses here at the university that you will find working with the police."

"Then you think I shouldn't apply," I replied.

"Let me put it this way," she said. "Although you won't find one thing that you were taught 'should be', you'll find plenty of what you were taught 'should not be'."