No IDs

“ um… ma’am, sarge? Um we were on our way to a party… and” Candy started, but the rookie placed her hand on her shoulder and made your friend stutter, pinned to the cop car. “We, we don’t have anything on us, including IDs.”

The sarge lifts her club under your chin, forcing you to look up into her eyes. “Is that true, slut? Just on your way to a party?”

You nod, gulping and feeling the club at your throat.

“Rookie, check out that slut, thoroughly. I’m gonna see if this one’s telling the truth.”

You both squeak as the cops drag you to opposite sides of the cruiser, them in the trunk, you over the hood. She tells you to place your hands on the hood, and feel her lift your skirt and petticoat.