Vice Squad Joe finds her

Miraculously, Charlotte got home in one piece. Still topless, he fell across her bed without washing up and fingered herself senseless at the thought of how the man of the law thought she was a worthless whore, how he used her mouth and pulled her hair.

Sunday was quiet. Charlotte found her hands wandering between her legs more often than not that evening, it being the night that the cop said the whole precinct would **** and enslave her unless she paid them all her earnings as a whore and more. She fell asleep safely in her bed.

Charlotte went to work on Monday. It was surreal. Everyone else was the same, but she felt different. She had kept her hair in pigtails as a reminder of her night in the park, but somehow the world felt duller. She walked home, wearing her office skirt and blouse.

"Hey, whore!"

She startled. There was an unmarked car at the curb, and Vice Squad Joe was in it.

"I thought I recognized you. Get in the fucking car, whore."

Charlotte froze momentarily. She thought about screaming, about running, but deep down she knew she wasn't going to do any of that. Her pussy, her still unraped, waxed pussy need whatever Joe was going to do it. This was her fantasy. She craved it.

She got in the car.

"That's better," Joe sneered as he drove. "Now, I told you what we like to do to whores who don't pay their fucking protection money. We fucking play with them, remember?"

"Yeah," Charlotte said huskily. Her pussy was getting wetter and wetter, and it was getting harder to think.

"So, do you have my fucking money, whore? Or are we going to have to fuck your slut body up?"