The Entrapped

"Well, young lady, you're going to very much enjoy meeting Mr. Smith. Hands high, arms straight up."

I obey. And just as quickly as my tube top was pulled over my head and shoulders, Miss Kelly removes, sliding it up and away with notable adroitness.

I am topless... only the relative darkness and the paucity of patrons offering modesty.

"What's it feel like? Getting your thrill?" Miss Kelly laughing at my blushing reaction of modesty as she stuffs my top into her purse.

There reappears the old reprobate, ogling more as he plops a glass of wine before Miss Kelly.

"One of his dates?" he inquires.

Miss Kelly flashes her badge.

"You'll not have a problem, Anwar. As you know, Mr. Smith is a gentleman with... shall we say ‘refined tastes’."

I surmise this Anwar originates from a country where harems, deeply guarded and secretive, have survived the onslaught of moralism and modernity. For he momentarily glares at my prepubescent appearing nipples, seems to nod with approval and once again retreats.

Miss Kelly next reaches with both hands, grasping the tube 'bottom' at the hips.

"Scootch, pretty little girl. Lift."

"Please no, Miss Kelly," fully understanding that I am to slide out of my only remaining garment.

She smiles, nonchalantly... flippantly. I begin to realize how quickly and easily me and my new garb can part.

Powerful hands tug. I feel the tight stretchy garment slide away reversing the earlier effort... over the hips... down the thighs... knees... calves to my ankles.

"You excited?" she asks in leaning to pull the taut garment from beneath my feet.

I am. I am quivering... and not due to cold. I can feel my drool on the hard wooden bench of the restaurant booth. The scene and the anal plug have me secreting.

Then she stands, taking the time to gather the potential covering of napkins and toss to a nearby table, and steps away, leaving me completely nude in the booth. Though somewhat dark... a passing patron will have no doubt about my lack of attire.

***

In the gloaming of a May evening, Miss Kelly pauses as we step from the restaurant, grasping the bottom hem of the tube bottom, pulling to turn it up over my belly and lower back. She once again demonstrates how quickly and facilely she can bring exposure. This leaves me naked from the waist down and I feel this added urge to get to her car.

“So you enjoyed being with Mr. Smith?” taking my hand for the short walk.

I remain silent. The man was old... and creepy... with hands exploring everywhere. Not an inch of flesh escaped his examination. I never before felt so violated. There was no gender subterfuge, his fingers quickly finding my trapped penis. He smiled wickedly and still referred to me as ‘little girl’.

Then came the six sordid words. Yes, he later had me fellate him, slowly, casually eating a meal as I knelt under the table partaking otherwise.

“Well, it’s better than three ‘Hamilton’s’,” Miss Kelly lectures, referencing my impromptu demand for $30 cash in the park. “Mr. Smith paid a rather heavy ‘fine’ for his exploits... Benjamin’s,” Miss Kelly patting her purse.

She tightens her grip and walks slowly, building the trepidation of discovery. I attempt to increase the pace, spying local dwellers exiting Fort Tryon Park as the sun has set. She resists... the power of her badge will extract her from difficulty... but not me from the intense humiliation offered by onlookers.

“Yes, we’ll be getting you some nice earrings. One benefit of being in Vice, Renee, we know who can pay... and who must instead go to prison. Manhattan is chock full of Mr. Smiths.”

Reaching the car she pauses, surveying my nakedness with a gloating smile similar to Nurse Sueann. Then she again demonstrates both her power and my obeisance, tucking fingers under the tube top and turning it down to join the bottom at my belly.

“Ready to ride?” playfully flicking my nipples as I squeal in delight.

I certainly am.

***

I am to learn that Sergeant Kelly is correct concerning the plurality of ‘Mr. Smiths’. Meetings are thereafter arranged Thursday and Friday evenings. Different men... different places... larger anal inserts... similar results... with Sergeant Kelly keeping my interest piqued utilizing varying levels of undress, mentally tormenting me with possible exposure to the unwary, offering vague reports as to how close I am coming to owning diamond pendants.