Sheriff Joe's Naked Chick Perp Walk

[SoftGameHunter]

Teaser: Joe's been hauling naked women into the station for decades, putting them through the walk of shame. They just never seem to learn. Now it's Fran's time, and the fate she's been dodging for her lifetime finally catches up to her as she's put through sheriff Joe's naked chick perp walk and all that follows.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
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Title: Sheriff Joe's Naked Chick Perp Walk
Author: SoftGameHunter
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Sheriff Joe's Naked Chick Perp Walk

Patterns emerge. The law gave Sheriff Joe unlimited power to indulge himself, repeatedly. So the pattern emerged, and the town boys would gather like crows on a wire outside the PD on Tuesday afternoons to see which naked woman was walked into the building that week. They could wait long into the evening if need be. She could be anyone. Charise Kelty, eighteen and a shoplifter. Angela Vicks, forty-eight and a child beater. Vera Simmonds, sixty-nine and a drunk driver. No woman was immune by her attributes. Old or young, fat or slim, any race, any appearance, it was all good for Sheriff Joe and his uncanny nose for sniffing out women with legitimate arrest warrants or proper cause. Or at least would seem so when all was said and done. Plenty of them complained he was insane, usually screaming it in handcuffs while walking naked in the rain across the wide parking lot under the silent but leering eyes of hundreds of male teens and other young and old men.

Other patterns emerge when the system is unchanging. Naked women arrested in public shouting and crying is nothing surprising. But their tacit, or at least their silent acceptance followed in time. It happened. Every Tuesday Sheriff Joe got his itch, and every day a naked woman was arrested and brought in. Women with known warrants might have responded by fleeing town, as some surely did. They might have learned not to be naked after noon on Tuesdays. But old Joe could always sniff out an uncovered one. So some of the more frequent naked jail visitors got freshened up. Perfumed. Make-up done. Hair just right. “So you finally came for me,” Francine Perkins is said to have said on her arrest for leaving the scene of an accident earlier that month. She was butt naked, lying on her couch with her hair just hours out of the beauty salon that morning. Everyone in town saw the otherwise prim librarian’s bland middle-aged body that afternoon. And pretty much everyone was happy. Some say even Francine was happy, but she disputes that.

Patterns emerge in the soul. Sheriff Joe was unyielding. No one was immune. Not the mayor’s wife, Susan Taylor, for DWI, nor a town councilman’s teen daughter, Brit Barrister, for underage drinking, DWI, and auto theft. And indeed not even his own family. Though the married cop had no daughters of his own, neither his late wife Laura, his sister Karen, nor his niece Amber were immune to the naked perp walk over the years. If it was their time, they suffered the shame. The whole town learned in one day that Amber Riley was, at eighteen, either smooth shaved or still naturally hairless, and it was too smooth to tell from any distance. There was less doubt with Susan Taylor, at fifty-two.

As the women learned over time, Sheriff Joe wasn’t fooling around with the law, either. All the busts were legit. Sometimes they resulted in a conviction, other times an acquittal, or a dismissal of charges, or lack of filing of charges. But no arrest was ever judged invalid, illegal, or ill-advised in any legal sense. No one ever found him planting evidence, improperly stripping any of the women, or setting anyone up. He was just good at finding naked female perps for his weekly spot of fun.

Fran Fischer failed to learn a good pattern for women in the town, which was to track their minor legal issues closely. A few unpaid traffic tickets turned into an arrest warrant from the county judge, and Sheriff Joe picked her shower after a workout to serve the warrant. At her gym, even, with her clothes and phone and keys locked in a locker. Her towel was in reach, but it did her no good as she turned from rinsing the soap from her hair to see three clothed and armed officers standing right there. One of them turned off the water. “Fran Fischer, you have the right to remain silent,” Sheriff Joe began.

“Wait! What?” she cried as they grabbed her arms and handcuffed her.

“You let your traffic tickets go, Fran,” deputy John told her. “You should have been more careful.”

“Please, Joe, don’t do this to me!” Fran cried. “You’ve known me for forty years now! Don’t humiliate an old woman like this.”

“That’s how it goes, Frannie,” Joe told her, hustling her out, naked, handcuffed, and dripping wet. She couldn’t believe it was happening to her. After all those years. And she knew there would be pictures taken. No woman who walked Joe’s naked perp line didn’t end up on the internet. At sixty-one, she was going to become an unwilling porn star.

“At least you have the body for it, ma’am,” deputy Dave said as they walked past the front desk, already getting attention and stares, and pointed cell phones. “You keep yourself very attractive. I’m sure lots of folk will like what they see.”

“That’s so unhelpful!” Fran cried, her face flushed from shame as they stepped outside into the December cold. Right away the full blast of the incoming blizzard hit her naked skin from head to toe. It had been fifty that morning, but dropping all day. She’d never felt such a sensation as her nude body was enveloped in cold. It could have been erotic, she thought fleetingly, if she weren’t so badly humiliated. She could feel the eyes of the gym and now the strip-mall all over her flesh.

“Are you going to keep me handcuffed?” she asked as Joe put her in the back of his own squad car.

“That’s the rules, Frannie,” he said. “Sorry, but the law applies to everyone.”

“Sorry? Joe, no one thinks you’re sorry! Not about any of it.”

“Nah, I guess they don’t,” he said with a chuckle. “But no one’s complaining. No one ‘cept you, today.”

That much was true. The hundreds of bystanders that routinely showed up at the station would be treated to her body and be happy to see it and photograph it and share it with the internet. Nothing could stop that now. Nor had Fran, despite her otherwise standard feminist credentials, ever said much about Sheriff Joe’s practice. It was within the law, after all.

Now she sat in the back of the squad car, buckled in, her hands uncomfortably behind her back, and her tits hanging above the level of the bottom of the window so everyone could see her chest. Worse, it was a long drive back to the county sheriff’s office, over a thirty-minute drive. Fran wondered what she would do when it was all over. While Joe’s actions were as regular as the calendar, the women’s reactions afterward were wildly varied. Some went to prison, sometimes for a very long time. Some served time in jail. Some were issued fines they had to pay without their wallets handy. Some were released, and not all of them had someone to pick them up. Roughly one in four of Joe’s naked women ended up released naked again from lock-up a short time later with no obvious recourse. Fran saw herself in that category, assuming she could get the fines paid somehow. She wasn’t married, had no kids, no family, and not many friends. Some found her cold. She was just shy. And introverted. And soon displayed in all her nakedness to the world she knew.

“You might get the snow to give you some modesty, Frannie,” Joe said from up front. “It’s really coming down.” She hated to admit he was right, though it would cost her in cold. Visibility was getting low out there, and she pictured a long walk across the station parking lot naked and freezing, but just a blur or even completely unseen to the hundreds of obscene gawkers lined up to witness her shame. “Of course, if you feel like you’re missing out on a little secret thrill, you could always let the tickets continue to lapse,” Joe said.

“God, you really believe that!” she snapped. “Do you really think you’re helping us women out, Joe? Do you think this is our fantasy?”

“Hey, I’m just a lawman. You ladies are the ones getting arrest warrants. You ladies are the ones answering the door naked when you can see my car and the flashing lights.”

“You’re disgusting. This ruins our friendship, such as it was. You know that, I hope.”

“We’ll see,” Joe replied. “We shall see indeed.”

Fran stopped talking. There was no point. She sat back as well as she could and took a deep breath, trying to reach her calm place. This all would pass. This all was sure just a test for her to overcome. The goddess was a fickle creature. Maybe there was a reason for her humiliation, and for that slightly cool breeze blowing gently on her smooth pussy, feeling uncomfortably nice.

Another ten minutes went by in silence. “What’s that you’re doing back there, Frannie?” Joe asked.

“Meditating,” she said calmly. “Gaining inner peace by finding my inner strength and by accepting the inevitable. I am strong enough to endure your perversions, Joe, and by becoming the sex victim, I can transcend being the sex victim.”

“You hope,” he challenged.

“I hope,” she conceded.

“I’ve always loved you hippie chicks,” Joe said with a laugh. He picked up the radio mike. “Yeah, make sure we’ve got a full staff today,” he said to the dispatcher.

There was nothing subtle about his message, to the dispatcher or to Fran herself. She wouldn’t be coddled. They were going to shame her, stress her, and possibly abuse her. Fran hadn’t done a gang bang since 1975 with the help of some magic mushrooms, and she didn’t wish to start another one. She wondered if she would even have an option.

The snow was blasting by the time they reached the station, but Joe was undeterred. He always parked far out in the lot for the naked perp walk, but this time he parked right out at the far edge, just inside the fencing, where even the winter storm couldn’t conceal Fran’s nude body from the dozens of determined gawkers and photographers now just a dozen feet away. She could even hear their catcalls, a couple even by her own name, though she couldn’t see who had yelled them.

She tried to turn and see. She had to know who recognized her. But Sheriff Joe kept a firm grip on her and marched her forward, first along the fence in front of everyone and then turning left to walk across the lot to the building. Face-first into the winds he led her, with all of her sensitive and private bits cold-blasted and soaked as she slid around on the already icy pavement. Joe kept her upright, though, as her arms were locked uselessly behind her back. Fran’s mind whirled in confusion and distress as she tried to keep herself focused. Be strong. Take the ordeal. Make it her own. Be it to beat it.

At last they reached the front door where Fran found the front waiting area choked with people, staff and civilians, processing or waiting their turns. Most eyes turned to view her on her entry, sopping wet, with snow melting on her tangled hair and dripping down her still firmish body. There was even a clear and audible drop in the noise level as everyone soaked in her naked form. And she recognized two people right away. Jeri Simpson was at the counter with a black eye, probably reporting her husband again. And Thomas Marlin was seated, waiting, for what Fran had no idea nor interest. Both of her friends saw here there, naked and dripping, handcuffed and arrested.

“Getting real bad out there, Joe,” Maureen said. The front desk officer eyed Fran up and down. “Well, Fran Fischer!” she said loudly. “I never figured you’d be Joe’s Tuesday Trollop!”

“She’s got some traffic tickets marinating too long in the system,” Joe said. “County issued an arrest warrant.”

“Alright, Frannie, it happens to everyone sooner or later,” Maureen said. “Well, not me. Go sit your butt down and we’ll start processing you, see if we can get you out of here in the next hour.” Just then all the lights went out. The computers died. The heating turned off. Everything electrical wonked out. “Or maybe in the next day,” Maureen continued in a less chipper tone.

Fran stood there for a moment with only the daylight from the front windows lighting her up in a room full of convicts and strangers. But Joe still had his grip on her and led her to a seat. “Just relax, Fran. We’ve got a generator. You won’t get too cold undressed like this. Let’s just adjust these cuffs.” He unlocked the handcuffs but only long enough to loop the chain around a fixed armrest. Then it was back on and Fran had to sit there, not only buck naked but with her hands tucked uselessly out of reach. She couldn’t fend off even a stray finger from any of the men around her.

About fifteen minutes later the lights and heat came back on, but the phone lines were still out and the computers just hung there, waiting to connect to distant servers. At least five men were staring at her the whole time. Two were under arrest themselves, shackled and out of reach. The other three, however…

One of them casually sauntered over. He was in his fifties, just a few years younger than her. “So, I guess your number came up with Sheriff Joe, eh?”

“Please leave me alone!” Fran said, trying not to sound offensive, bitchy, helpless, weak, strong, or alluring.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to harass you or anything. Don’t worry about me.”

“Please just go!”

“You know, there’s not exactly a ton of places to go right now.” He suddenly clasped one hand on her tit, squeezing firmly. “When was the last time you got laid, anyway?”

“Burt, get your hand off her,” Maureen said from her desk. He dropped his hand away, letting his fingers slide over her nipple. He stood and left the area without a word. Fran was left shaking on the chair. She stayed there for another forty-five minute before Joe himself came back for her.

“Come on, Frannie, let’s get this moving. We’re all running slow today what with the storm.”

“My heart so bleeds for your troubles, Joe,” she said sullenly as he led her to the booking area. She was fingerprinted. Mug shots were taken, and she was pretty sure by the camera angle they were full-body shots as well as the facials. She stood there flushing deep red as her naked body was photographed full frontal and side profile. Porn grannie, no doubt the internet would label her.

“Fran, we can let you go right now, but you’ve got to pay up the tickets right now,” Joe told her. They sat in his office. She wasn’t handcuffed, but sitting her bare body on the old vinyl and metal chair reminded her of her helplessness.

“My purse is in the gym locker, Joe. You know that. I said, ‘let me get my purse, Joe. Let me get the money to pay the tickets, Joe.’ I said that and you just handcuffed me naked and dragged me out of there!

“I don’t make arrests on the perp’s schedule, Fran, you must know that,” he replied.

“You just had to have your naked female frog march perp walk whatever the fuck you call it! Did it get your rocks off, humiliating a woman my age who used to call you a friend?”

“Ah hell, we’re still friends, Fran. You’ll calm down. This isn’t so bad for you and I think you know it. Even Laura went through it and survived, as did our marriage.”

“She was a saint.”

“That she was. And it got Amber scared straight.”

“How is she, anyway?”

“She’s about to make partner in the firm. See? It all works out for the ladies. They just need some correcting once in a while. No harm, no ill intent.”

“You still humiliated me, Joe,” she curtly replied. He just smiled.

“You know what? I’m going to bend a rule for you Fran.”

“And give me clothing?”

“Ha, no. But since that generator’s having trouble keeping the heaters going,” he said, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a bottle of Johnny Walker, “I figure we can make some heat of our own, if you get my drift.”

“You’d better be talking about the booze, buster. But yeah.”

He took a couple glasses from the shelf and poured both of them a stiff one. “To hot babes everywhere,” he said, lifting a glass.

“To the ERA,” she countered. The both took long gulp and he refilled both.

“Fran, if you can’t pay, you’ve got to spend the night. Judge Reynolds is going to be in tomorrow if they don’t close the courthouse. Sorry, but I don’t make the weather.”

“And if it’s closed?”

“Then it reopens later.”

“On Thursday, Christmas Eve?”

“Nope.”

“Not Friday. What about the weekend?”

“This isn’t the big city.”

“So Monday. If that storm out there, that fucking blizzard I was trying to beat by ending my workout early, closes the courthouse tomorrow, then I spend six days, including Christmas, naked in a public jail?”

He shrugged. “Sure looks that way.”

“You’re a real bastard! A real loser, Joe! A fucking loser!”

“I know you don’t mean it.”

“Like hell I don’t!”

He just laughed. “I’ve been at this for longer that I’ve known you. That didn’t stop you and me from, you remember, back in 1980?”

“That was a long time ago. And I dumped your ass.”

“After four months. How many naked babe perp walks did you watch me do then? Personally.”

“Fuck you, Joe.”

He stopped and took a good hard blatant leer at her body as she sat across from him. “Took me forty years to see the goods again. Glad to see you took care of yourself all this time.”

“Fuck you, Joe.”

He got up and refilled the glasses again. Fran was drinking on an empty stomach, but she appreciated the warmth.

“You know, I’ve missed you lately. It’s been lonely these last couple years.”

She snorted. “Is that what this is?”

“No, this is unpaid parking tickets. You live in this town, you know that.”

“You just wanted to see me naked again. Forty years wasn’t enough.”

“Yeah, and what about you? What woman in this town of your age lets parking tickets build up to an arrest warrant? Just because Warren ran off with that stewardess, whatsername?”

“Roxi, with an I,” Fran spat. “I was showering in the gym, after a workout. Very innocent until you dragged me out of there naked!”

“I think you wanted it to be you, Franny.”

“Bite me!”

“May I?” he asked her. He was standing by her chair, looming over her. He’d put on some pounds but kept himself fit and strong. Frannie felt a tingle, a nervous, slightly nauseating butterfly sensation. She said nothing. He put his hand on her head, fingering her hair. “Is that a yes?” he asked softly.

“It’s a no, and you know damn well what that means.”

“Sure,” he replied. He clutched her hair firmer.

“I mean it!”

“I know you think that. Maybe you do. But I don’t think so.” And then he was on her.

“Joe! No!” she cried as he pulled her up from her seat and pulled her to the desk. He swept everything to the floor and slammed her down onto her back. She couldn’t believe it. “No, don’t do that! Joe, please! No! No! Not like this!”

“Gotta do it, Frannie. Don’t fight it. You know you need it. We both need it bad, Frannie.” He was climbing on her, fumbling with his belt and trousers. Licking her face, kissing her neck.

“Oh god, Joe! You sick, sick maniac! You bastard! You, you…” She felt his hot cock sliding around her crotch. Warmth, hot and hard, waiting to get into her. He jammed her legs apart and pushed it to her pussy. Her cold pussy. She gasped as he slid it in, rubbing along her clit as he entered her. She pounded on his back with her fists, trying to scratch him. But he still had his sheriff’s uniform on above the waist.

“You hot little minx, still a great lay after all this time,” he whispered.

“Rape! Rape!” she called out, half-hearted. She would get no help, that was for sure. “I’m being raped, back here. By Joe. Anyone?” Her voice tailed off. He was hitting her spots perfectly, just like he had back in the day. But climactic or not, he was also pounding her hard, making her gasp. She wasn’t wet like in the old days. It hurt, but she found herself finally lubing up a bit. She was crying. She’d never been raped, never thought she would. Not by that age. Not by an old boyfriend or by anyone else, least of all in a dingy police office.

“Uh, yeah, baby!” he called out just as he came in her. Francine grunted, desperate, frustrated. Humiliated at being shamed and raped and totally taken advantage of. And even humiliated at wanting it to at least finish for her instead of leaving her up there. He got off her, both of them breathing hard as they came down off it. She crawled off the desk and slumped back into the cold chair. Joe slowly picked his crap off the floor and back onto the desk.

“Another?” he asked, holding the bottle. She slid the glass closer and nodded. He filled it and she sipped.

“I needed that, Frannie, I really did.”

“I did not,” she said.

“Going to stay with that line?”

She nodded. “You know I have to.” He nodded. Just then a deputy came in and handed Joe a hand-written message. He read it over.

“All county offices and functions except police, fire, and medical are closed tomorrow,” he said.

“Of course,” she replied icily. Six days naked in a jail cell. That’s what she faced. She’d been booked. Once they locked her in, she’d stay in. Naked. Over the holidays.

“I’m not taking any days off, Fran,” he told her. “Hell, I’ll probably camp in here until the storm’s over. I’ll come back there and keep you company some of the time. It won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah, right. Not so bad. Not for you, Joe.”

“Or for you. Come on, I’ve got to put you away now.” She stood up and he led her through the reduced crowds to the holding cells. They weren’t even private from the lobby, not entirely. But he led her to an empty one and guided her in.

“Like I said, you won’t be lonely. Not during this holiday season.”

“Right,” she replied. He closed the door. She felt a shiver of thrill and terror as the heavy metal slammed shut and locked on her, caging her up nicely. “I let the tickets slide,” she said quietly as he walked away.

“I know.” And then he was gone. She sat down to wait out the next six days with no distractions of family or celebration or clothing to get in the way of clearing up her thoughts at last.

[Shocker]

Great concept and excellent execution

[Hughmiliator]

Aside from firm, what did she look like?

[SoftGameHunter]

Aside from firm, what did she look like?

I really don't know. Assume some silver in the hair. I may have had an image of her when I wrote it, but that was several years ago. Assume GILF. They are out there.