Cristana the Cop's Very Bad Day

The buck. Stops. Here. That's all you need to know about me. My name is Cristana, and I am a cop. That's right. The police. The 5-0. The ones that will mess your face up then throw your small little butt in a hole where no light can shine. And you know what? I enjoy my job a great deal. Especially when I get to take down the low lives that fill up this pathetic city.

At the moment I'm riding though what we call the 'revolving door.' It's 2 blocks of inner city, filled with the lowest and stupidest of criminals. When one person returns to it from jail, another is going in. It's the sort of place that when you are low on your monthly counts, you stop the first person you see here and check them. 9 times out of 10 there's a warrant.

In reaction my foot slams on the brake of my cruiser. The cruiser halts to a stop, making that long drawn out scraping sound. Lit up from the street lamps and my head lights is him, "The John." He pauses as he looks at me, his eyes moving to look directly in mine. Sure as hell it is The John. Without waiting another second, my cruiser door is opened and I'm running after him. Only now does he seem to think I might be a problem and he takes off running as he was just smirking.

The John is the leader of the dominate gang in the city. They used to be part of some other major gang like the Crips or something, but got kicked out. Now they just make trouble for me and my kind. And like all criminals, he's stupid. He's the most wanted man in the city right now and I'm going to bring his dumb butt in...which means promotion.

My feet feel light as I chase after him down the sidewalk. I hate running but I have no choice at the moment. After all, this is why I exercise...to chase down idiot criminals. He has a lead on me, but I don't care because I'm gaining on him. Even when he turns the corner, I'm gaining on him. Within seconds I turn the same corner and see that he's starting to get winded.

The John is supposedly very dangerous, but to me he's just another low life loser. His thing is that he likes to leave messages/warnings for others. He never kills unless it's needed, but loves his stupid messages. Like when he kidnapped the captain's teenage daughters, got them all high on heroin and made them say crude things about their father, which The John put on YouTube. Or when he dunked one of his members in a vat of paint for wearing the wrong gang colors. Guy's a sicko. But soon to be a jailbird sicko.

As I run, I think about what this loser is going to get me. A promotion. My picture in the paper. News articles. Maybe my bio in Latina magazine if things go my way. This loser is going to be my ticket out of the bottom rung of police work and into management. But I will say I'll miss roughing up the low lives if that happens . Yeah, I admit, I'm rougher than I need to be with criminals, but is anyone going to say anything? I'm a girl after all. And no man will ever admit a girl roughed them up.

The John turns another corner for a new block and I stay on him. Now the surrounding people have taken notice. They stop and look at us, screaming insults at e and telling him to run. Of course they hate cops.

Then John makes a fatal mistake. He turns to run down an alley between two apartment complexes. I smirk because it looks like there's no other way out then the way you came in. He just got himself caught. Picking up my speed I down the alley. I burst to the end and find I'm right; it's the back of the apartments which is a small enclosed area...but no The John.

Then fear, shame and horror fill my entire body as I feel something hard press against the side of my head.

"Damn it," I mutter knowing he has his gun pressed against me. I fell for the oldest trick in the book. He hid on the side of the wall and let me run right past him. Now he has the drop on me.

"Raise em up piggy," he orders with a malicious tone. I do so grudgingly, upset at myself for being so stupid. It takes him only a moment to remove my gun and belt in what feels like a practiced move. Oddly, I stand there, hands raised, looking at the brick wall for a very long time. He doesn't say anything or move, just keeps me there, pressing the piece against my head. Then it dawns on me, he's playing with me. He's making me stay like this so it can sink in that he out smarted me.

"Tired of you piggies always hounding me," he finally says after what feels like several minutes. "Should have thought about that before..." I start but shut up when he cocks his piece, letting me know I'm not to speak. "Seems...I'll need to leave a strong message this time," he says with what sounds like a smirk. Now my heart sinks and fear begins to build like a snowball down a hill. Oh crap.

"March," He orders, pushing my head with his gun. My feet start moving before my brain orders them to. What an idiot. He's making me go back to the sidewalk?! The moment people see me, someone will call this in. There'll be a flood of cops here in under 3 minutes! Criminals. Can they be any stupider? This lets me breath as I don't need to think up a plan out of this, which would be very hard as I'm terrified.

"Put your hands on your head," he orders right as I step out into the sidewalk from the alley. Humiliated, I put both of my hands on top of my head, just as I made so many others do. At once I feel ashamed for doing this as people turn to look at me. They all look at me disgusted and excited, like I'm the bad kid that is about to be punished. This scares me in a way I've never felt before. It's like they wanted this to happen.

"Did I say stop walking?" He orders and I get a hard hit in the back of the head, making me stumble forward. "You know what? Just for that, lose the shoes and socks," he barks. Thinking this is a bit cruel, I kick off my shoes and then step on each sock to pull them off. Now my small, well cared for feet are bare and on the warm concrete. Then I'm pushed again, making me move. I hear him kick my shoes into the street, where they will become just another piece of trash on the side of the road. Never mind how much they cost, they will be nothing more than trash.

"You have any idea how much trouble," I begin, my anger finally making me talk.

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it," he barks, giving me a slap to the back of the head. It stings but not very bad. He did it just to scare me. And truth be told, it's working. Maybe it's walking down the sidewalk with my hands on my head that scares me. Or maybe it's that people just look at me instead of helping that does it. Or maybe it's the laughs and smirks I see on their faces that scares me. But yes, I am getting very scared.

Now I begin to lower my eyes so I don't have to look at anyone. Gosh, how foolish I must look! A cop, defeated...in public. Oh, how humiliating. We turn the corner of the block and I see where he's taking me. To his 'base.' It's an old basketball court where dozens of his loser gang members hang out all day. The moment his loser friends see me, they all explode with jeers, laughter, cheers. If you heard it, you might think he just saved the world you something.

I'm lead into the court, my hands still on top of my head. "Don't touch me!" I shout a few times as jackasses slap my bottom. They try to slap hard but I raise my leg in attempts to block it or to get them to hit my hip bone instead. I make sure not to remove my hands as I do not want to be shot or give the appearance I'm trying to fight back. I do give glaring looks to the ones that jeer at me or attempt to hit me. Oh, how I can't wait to see them in a few minutes when backup arrives. All of these losers will be in jail.

"Wait!" I gasp as my hands are grabbed and hoisted upward hard. In sheer reaction I try to pull my hands back.

"Move again and see what happens," a cruel voice says and then the barrel of the piece is placed IN MY MOUTH. Feeling like I may pee myself, I stop all movement. I stop fighting and let these animals raise my arms and then tie rope around my wrists. In horror I see it's the black rope from my own cruiser. They went in my cruiser! Anger builds as I'm made to watch as they bind my hands over my head to what used to be a basketball stand. When they finish, I'm on my tiptoes, making me stretch more and more.

Where's my backup? Where is everyone? Surely someone has called for help. There's tons of people out here. Surely one of them is good, right? Right?

"Now, what do we have here?" The John says once I'm secured, so everyone hears. This is greeted with loud cheers. "Officer..." he asks my name, but the gun is still in my mouth. How does he expect me to answer with a gun in my mouth?

In slow motion I feel and see it all happen. I want to cry out but I can't. I'm in too much shock. One of his goons steps forward, reaches out and grabs hold of my shirt. He rips it open, making the buttons go flying and exposing my black bra and cleavage. I want to scream or yell, but the gun is still in my mouth, giving me strong insensitive not to make a move. So I stay still as he rips, tugs until my shirt is in tatters on my sides.

The yells are deafening as everyone sees my cleavage and bra. My heart sinks as I feel so humiliated. "...Jugs. Officer Jugs," The John finishes, laughing extremely loud. My face burns red as I can't believe this is happening. I've always been top heavy, even in high school. All my life I always have had to wear the tightest sports bra to keep them down. I mean, who would take me serious if they saw the size of my breasts? They are way out of proportion. And now, all this hoodlums can see them.

"What's your name Officer?" The John asks when the crowd gets quiet. He then pulls the gun out but keeps it aimed in my face. To accent my situation, he puts it right between my eyes.

"Officer..." I begin, fearing for my life. "Officer...J-Jugs," I respond, feeling my face go redder. Again the cheers are deafening. The fact they are getting off of making me say such a crude thing makes me sick for the human race. "I'm Officer Jugs," I repeat, trying to make him happy.

My pants are ripped open now and then jerked down to my ankles, exposing my black panties. Feeling in a daze, I just look forward as I'm being stripped right here in public. My backup will get an eyeful now. I'll never live it down. But at least they are coming. Right? Right?!

"What's your name again?" The John asks, tapping the gun against my forehead.

"Officer Jugs," I repeat, hatred boiling in me. "Why is that your name?" He asks, sounding as if he's honestly confused. This nearly sends me over the edge to bite him. He's playing with me. He's playing cruel mind games. He knows he's in control and is loving it.

"Because..." I start, not able to meet his eyes but glaring at his chin. "I have...big...jugs," I answer, my teeth gritting. Laughter rings out at this.

"Really?" He asks in mock surprise.

"No! No! Wait. No!" I beg as I feel the hands on my bra. It's no use. It's yanked and cut open with a knife, exposing me fully. Both 'jugs' bounce out in full view for everyone. They bounce about comically for several seconds and what makes this the worse, the absolute worse, is everyone gets quiet. Everyone goes quiet as they see them, as if it's a sight to behold.

Then the sound returns with a vengeance. I hear all the cracks about them as if my mind zeroes in on them. I hear ones I haven't heard since high school. "How does she stand up straight?" "How does she not bump into things?" "Kids could hide under them from the rain." The insults keep coming and coming, making tears burn in my eyes. Minutes pass as they keep yelling insults at me, making me feel so foolish.

"Tell you what Officer Jugs, I'll make you a deal," The John begins evilly after the insults die down. "You make those... cop titties bounce so high they hit your chin...I'll let you go," he offers. My eyes now look at his, wanting to believe such a thing. He'll let me go?

My backup isn't coming. It would have come by now. And like an idiot I didn't call in what I was doing before I gave chase. He must have known that. I'm stuck here, and he knows it. And he knows that I know it. And now, my only chance as I listen to him with my tits swaying, is to make them bounce around.

"You're lying," I counter, not believing him.

"If she does it and I don't let her go, someone shoot me," he calls out to his crew. Many look uncomfortable at this, but several say grunt in acknowledgement. All the time he keeps looking at me in the yes with that horrible controlling look. That look that says he owns me, every part of me. But it looks like he might be serious about letting me go. Or is that just me wanting to believe?

Hating myself for this, I use all my strength to move my shoulders. At once both breasts begin to jiggle and sway. I push on my toes will all my force, trying to make them bounce. They do, but just a little. I repeat this, getting more motion which makes them bounce higher. There's laughter as I do this, but I try to block it out. I try. But I can't help but hear it. They bounce about now, moving very comically. I even lower my head to try and help my chin get to them. The bouncing begins to hurt now as I'm too strung up to get them to bounce hard enough. Now they begin to clap as they bounce higher and higher.

"I did it!" I cry out, feeling my right breast hit my chin. Only now do I see the reaction to me doing this. Many are on the ground laughing, several rub themselves, others are recording with their cells and some are doubled over in laughter. Never before have I felt so low and useless. Like some sort of freak attraction. "Bastard," I say, tears falling down my cheeks only to land on my 'jugs'.

This single word seems to infuriate The John. He marches right back up to me and aims the gun right at my forehead. "What did you say?" He demands.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!" I cry, thinking this is it. That my life is over. "Say...Officer Jugs, reporting for duty in your best cop voice," he suddenly orders surprising me. Then he cocks the gun again.

"H-H-Hello..." I start but my voice cracks. "Hello! This is Officer Jugs reporting for duty!" I say cheerfully and forcefully like a cartoon character. This brings everyone to laughter again.

"Say it for the camera," he demands and cells are thrust forward. "Make sure you look directly at it, so we get those fat titties on camera," he orders as he backs up. I take a moment to be glad the gun is gone, but the fact I'm strung up, exposed with my breasts out for the world to see makes me feel just as horrible. This will surely go on every dirty site on the web.

"Hello! This is Officer Jugs reporting for duty!" I say and put a large smile on my face. My humiliation seems never ending, especially as I feel my jugs sway as I say this. My reward for saying this is my badge being ripped off my broken shirt and then placed inside the front of my panties for all to laugh at.

"Best place for it!" Someone says and hey all laugh. I can't help but squirm as the metal feels so cold against such my most sensitive place. They put my badge in my panties...against my pussy. Oh gosh. Can this get any worse?

Then someone taps at the badge repeatedly inside my panties, making the cold metal press against my tender private place, making me squirm harder. Doing this makes my breasts sway and bounce as the meal hits right on my clit. As I squirm, they record my reactions with their cells, laughing and mocking me as they do. Every so often, I'm told to say the line again. Then someone comes from behind, grabs my arms and shakes me hard, making my breasts jiggle violently for the cheering crowd. And for good measure I'm made to say, "Office Jugs reporting for duty!" as I'm shaken.

Minutes later, or maybe hours, I'm in such a daze, I feel my last remaining piece of dignity, my panties, yanked to my ankles, revealing everything to these thugs. All I can do now is lower my head and pout, never feeling more helpless in my life. I hear comments about how I like to shave but my pouts drown them out. Naked. Strung up. Recorded.

"Alright. Let's get this over with," The John says to the crowd. "You get a choice," he says stepping to my naked self, as if I'm his slave. "Whip or Tag?" He asks as if this is supposed to mean something to me. I can only guess it's a gang thing, but it doesn't sound like any gang terms I've ever heard.

"Tag," I answer, thinking that whip might be a literally whip, something I rather not have happen to me. Being whipped like this could downright kill me.

"Alright," he replies business like. Someone reaches down and for a second I think they are about to put their face against my womanhood, but they don't. They simply pick up the badge that was in my panties. I watch as the guy makes a make-shift necklace out of fabric from my shirt. When he's finished, he puts my badge on it and then hangs it on me, where it hangs between my tits.

Horror strikes as I see two men walking towards me and I realize what 'tag' means. Both men hold spray paint cans in their hands. I attempt to get away but it's useless...I can't even move. I'm forced to watch as I see them walk right up to me and begin to spray paint...my body. They write gang signs, gangs I was made to learn, all over my naked body. They tag my back, my bottom, my legs, my stomach and even my face. The humiliation is overwhelming that all fight leaves me. All I do is try to smell the fumes of the paint and try my best to pass out, which doesn't happen. Then I watch as "Officer Jugs" is painted across my chest.

"You know you deserve this, right?" The John asks like a stern father. "Right?" He repeats more sternly.

"Y-yes," I answer, red faced. "Officer Jugs deserves this," I say, only trying to make him happy.

"Good girl," he says and pats my head like a dog. "Now, lift your leg," he orders and I do it without question or comment. He grabs it and steps in, lifting my bottom, moving between both legs. I knew this would come, just hoped it wouldn't.

"Tell them you deserve it," he orders as he unbuckles himself.

"I deserve what you did to me," I tell the crowd loudly, still being recorded. "Officer Jugs deserves it," I add. Then it happens. He thrusts inside me, feeling like his goal is to impale me. My body tenses as he is inside me and I feel my pussy lips parting around his cock. He goes deeper than anyone ever has. And then he's screwing me. My body, just a plaything to him bounces up and down on him. My tagged jugs bounce around for all to see. My enemy, this wanted criminal is fucking me.

Bound and helpless I can't do anything but what he wants. He uses me hard, feeling like he is splitting me apart. He fucks me so hard, so rough that the clapping sound feels like slaps. Then it happens. I cum. And I cum hard. My body shakes, then trembles and I scream for all to see and record. But I can't help it. This is all just too new and too overwhelming. And it's being recorded.

It takes him a few minutes but he cums inside me, as if marking his territory. He lowers my feet down slowly, afterward, not that it matters. I'm so weak and tired I practically am hanging from my bonds. Fucked, humiliated and painted. This can't get any worse. I mean...he's made me cum harder and better than anyone else ever has.

"You're good Officer Jugs," The John remarks as he zips up.

"Let me go?" I ask weakly, knowing he won't. Even after I bounced my tits to my chin he didn't.

"Why?" He asks seriously, as if I'm being stupid on purpose. With this he walks through the crowd. I watch him as he walks away, feeling hands grabbing my hips and lifting. My arms are pulled as my body is made to bend over, but I keep watching him walk away, a mighty king in his kingdom. Even as the new person enters me from behind, I watch him walk away. I watch even as I'm taken so hard my breasts bounce into my sight and the clapping sound is all I can hear.