’Who does this whore think she is?’ thought Jon as he looked the woman over. Her
’Who does this whore think she is?’ thought Jon as he looked the woman over. Her shirt was thin, her tits were huge. ’She should be ashamed of herself.’ He pressed the alert button twice. Once to order a random search on her; the second time to signal to the team that he would find something. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “You’ll need to step out of line and come with me. I will be searching you today.” “Shouldn’t a female agent do that?” she asked. “There aren’t any cu—female officers available right now. We only have one, and she called in sick,” he said. ’In fact, she had called in sick every day for the past three months. Probably something to do with the fact that she’s been kept tied up in the employee lounge, subsisting on nothing but cum, scraps, and prepackaged peanuts,’ he thought to himself. He was grinning. “Then I refuse to be searched,” she said. “I’m sorry, but under the new regulations that is considered an admission of guilt. Follow me to our office, or I’ll be forced to contact the authorities.” She accepted it and went with him. They always did; it was their nature. He took her to the enhanced room, of course. It was soundproof, the camera feed sent to a different server. It had a heavy lock and a heavier door. Unlike the other rooms, it was well furnished. It had a couch, several recliners, a bar. It had a bed, too. The moment they entered she froze, noting the unusual surroundings. ‘More clever than half of them,’ he thought as he shoved her to the carpeted floor. He grabbed her by the hair – he loved long hair – and pulled her head back, looking down on her from behind. “I regret to inform you that there’s been an anomaly with your search,” he said, leering at her breasts. Her nipples were still sticking out through the thin material of the shirt, still announcing to everyone that she was a whore. With his free hand he reached down, ripping the flimsy shirt off of her back. “What are you doing!?” she yelled. Shrill. He hated shrill cunts. “You’ve been caught trying to smuggle weapons onto a plane. By law, that makes you an enemy combatant. I’m here to tell you that you are being officially detained,” he sniggered. “That’s ridiculous! I demand to see a lawyer!” she said, obviously fighting tears despite her outrage. “Did you hear me, you stupid cunt? I said you were an enemy combatant. No lawyers. No trial. No jail. Just detainment. Detainment and interrogation.” His cock was already swollen to its full size, now pressing hard against his pants. The takedown was always his favorite part. Without saying another word he jerked his hand, yanking her upwards by the hair. She rose, unsteady on her feet. He shoved her once again, this time with enough force to move her a few feet. She landed conveniently, landing halfway on the bed. The position showed off her ass, straining against the impossibly tight jeans. The rest of the crew would cover for him, he knew, until lunch time arrived and they wanted their turn. Summoning his most professional, authoritative tone, he began to speak. “I’m now going to perform a body cavity search. Any resistance will be met with superior force.” As she began to sob, he almost felt a twinge of guilt—almost, but not really. It was her fault for wearing that shirt, after all. -- source link
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