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Old 03-04-2016, 05:34 PM   #1
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Cool Aaloka's Pursuit

AALOKA’S PURSUIT

Julie and Aaloka were on patrol. They liked working together. On the face of it they were very different, the big, optimistic, easy-going blonde and the intense, witty, clever, passionate Indian, but they’d both been in the police about two years, they were almost the same age (24 and 23), they both knew how to deal with leering men and they both liked helping people.

That was particularly Julie’s forte: she liked nothing better than the smiles when a lost child was returned to mother or the thanks of a confused pensioner. Aaloka liked these things too, but being dedicated to keep-fit and to unarmed combat training, she welcomed those rare occasions when she had to deal with a tough male villain or yob. They were a challenge and they gave her a buzz.

On this occasion she was reflecting on the number of times her friend took on helping the lost, sobbing child, the confused old lady or the foreigner with no English – so when they spotted a foreign-looking man with a worried expression and body language, Aaloka quickly volunteered to see if he needed help.

“OK,” said Julie. “I just heard a sort of clatter round the corner. Could be some kids kicking stuff. I’ll check it out.”

The man turned out to be a Somali asylum-seeker who’d got lost looking for the bus station. Aaloka gave him directions and her best wishes. He thanked her warmly. As she walked off after Julie – who’d disappeared round the corner – she did not see the Somali staring at her swaying bottom and rummaging in his trousers.

There was a short scream, quickly cut off. Aaloka knew there were screams and screams. Her sister had once screamed when she opened the door and her new boyfriend was standing there. That sort of scream went its full course. The scream she’d just heard had been desperate and short – and female. Julie! She ran.

Julie was lying on the ground, lying still, and a man stood over her. He was quite small, youngish, white, short-haired and in dark kit a bit like a jogger’s.

“YOU!” yelled Aaloka. “POLICE! HOLD IT!” The man turned round. A mean face, almost girlish features, expressionless eyes. He ran. A coward like most of them. She gave chase. She desperately wanted to check if Julie was all right, but catching this bastard came first.

He ran fast, but she ran faster. She was going to get him.
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Old 03-05-2016, 03:40 AM   #2
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Keep it up!!!!
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Old 03-05-2016, 05:03 AM   #3
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Oh, I do, every time I look at the fear and shock in her face. Naturally our intrepid hunter gives her extra for having dared to try to arrest him and of course she gets deservedly well and truly screwed on the way to something worse.

I have to add to the text before I can post the rest of the pics. For larger pics, go to Deviant Art and search POLICEWOMAN - NEWEST. Enjoy!
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Old 03-05-2016, 04:41 PM   #4
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Wink Aaloka's Pursuit

Julie was lying on the ground, lying still, and a man stood over her. He was quite small, youngish, white, short-haired and in dark kit a bit like a jogger’s.

“YOU!” yelled Aaloka. “POLICE! HOLD IT!” The man turned round. A mean face, almost girlish features, expressionless eyes. He ran. A coward like most of them. She gave chase. She desperately wanted to check if Julie was all right, but catching this bastard came first.

He ran fast, but she ran faster. She was going to get him.

She caught him under the armpits and kicked his legs from under him. Down he went, face up, head nearest to her. Now she had to act quickly. He might have a knife or something, after all. She knelt over his head, pulled out the handcuffs and reached for his wrists. But he was fast – and stronger than she’d realised. She found one of her forearms grasped in his tight grip and his other hand grabbing her shoulder. He spasmed. But as long as he was on the ground and she was kneeling over him...

WHAT? The shock of feeling his head brush her thigh inside her skirt was followed by disaster so quickly, she could not react. Intense pain speared out from her most sensitive and secret place...

Marsden had been shocked at being outrun and hauled down by the policewoman. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. HE took THEM. That was how it was. He couldn’t be taken out by some prissy little brown cunt in a sex shop uniform, could he?

Perhaps he couldn’t. The stupid bitch had knelt either side of his head, giving him a view right up her skirt, into the scented gloom where small white panties stretched tight over bush and cleft. “Get them in the cunt” was good advice he’d been given once. She was trying to cuff him, but she wasn’t strong or quick enough. And now he could lift his head up between those smooth, brown, meaty thighs, that profusion of free-range pork...

GOT IT! He bit hard into the softness. There was wispy panty in his mouth, of course, and a bit of cunt hair, but behind that...he couldn’t actually taste her cunt through her panties, but it seemed like he could because he was getting a heady aroma of young cunt with just a suspicion of arsehole. She was screaming, which was good, and she was in no state to resist when he pulled her back off him. Now she was on the ground and she was going to learn a real lesson. All the girl cops he got had the same sort of experience and ended up the same way, of course, but this bitch was going to get extra for having pulled him down and rattled him just for a few seconds.

She stared into his eyes like a rabbit into headlights, knowing defeat. What she saw in those eyes gave her real fear.

He stared into her eyes, tasting her fear and defeat. This was going to be good. Her plump left thigh had slopped over his right foot and he could feel its warmth through his shoe. His left foot was partly under her other thigh, but with the toe he was just, deliciously, stepping on her white-pantied cunt lips.

There was no reason to hurry: the place was deserted except for her, him and that big-titted blonde piece he’d taken easy as shooting fish in a barrel. He could think about what he’d discovered up her skirt. First there was the artificial smoothness of tights, but then, way up beyond where old-fashioned stocking would have stopped, he’d found soft, plump, clammy bare flesh. Her panties had not been covered by tights either. She must be wearing tights cut away for easy access to her important bits! Maybe she got a thrill out of wearing something that tarty under her stern official uniform. Well, from now on all the thrills would be his.

She could see his cosh and she knew what it meant. Peevishly, she raised a slim hand to stop him, but he pulled it out of the way with contemptuous ease. One whack did it. Another to make sure. She was going to give no more trouble – but a lot of fun.

He stowed her over his shoulder, head hanging down at the back, fat arse facing the scary night world, picked up her hat and cuffs and took hold of her friend blondie by one foot to drag her to the car. Brownie’s thigh, hip and buttock were soft against him. Her breathing pressed warm flesh into his neck, jaw and cheek. Blondie was making quite an exhibition of herself, a lewd upskirt with plenty of white panty, but he hardly noticed. They were all like that under the uniforms and blondie could wait.

In the shadows, the Somali, who’d followed out of fascination with the tight-skirted brown policewoman, was so excited he opened his zip and enhanced a little corner of England with Somali manhood. Now it all made sense. Those shameless women in their whorish uniforms did not have real authority. It was allowed, no, it was approved, to treat them as they would be treated in Somalia. He would tell his friends in the hostel and they would make a start with that big-titted uniformed whore who kept visiting “to see if they were all right”.

Aaloka woke with a sense of something wrong. She’d been overpowered by a dirty trick and knocked out! She had a sore head. Julie had been unconscious.

She was in a large, gloomy room. She’d been tied up and placed on some odd wooden structure so she was jack-knifed with her bottom sticking up. Her wrists were manacled together with something thicker than handcuffs. She was sure her hat must have come off, but now it was jammed firmly on her head. She tested her bonds and all she could do was shake her head and wobble her buttocks. Then a wonderful thought came to her. The man had taken her captive, but he might well have left Julie behind and there was a good chance Julie was OK.

“Ah, Miss Piggy’s woken up.” The voice was silky but with a hint of Estuary English about it. “That’s good, because I wouldn’t want to misuse an unconscious woman.” He was behind her, so she couldn’t see him.

“Where’s Julie?”

“Is that the stupid blonde? Right behind you, sweetie, hanging on the wall.” Did that mean she was alive – or dead? But if she asked this bastard, he’d taunt her and very likely lie to her. She couldn’t see round far enough.

“OK, sweetie-pie – time to get this skirt off and see what’s underneath it.” NO – he wasn’t going to...but then he could...She felt his almost womanish small, clever hands at her belt, at the catch and then sliding her skirt over her bottom. Automatically, she protested, but really she knew it was pointless.

This was the point at which she realised how this pervert was going to react to her choice of underwear. He’d leer at it and think those cutaway tights were like Ann Summers stuff. She wasn’t going to try to explain the real reason. In hot weather, especially if she was called to vigorous action, she could get a bit sweaty up there, even a bit pongy. She remembered with shame the one occasion when she’d lost her authority with the public. She’d been dealing with a bunch of teenage yobs, giving them a stern lecture, when one of them had gone round the back, bent down, sniffed noisily, complimented her on her “sweaty cunt” and said she’d obviously been “farting curry”. She’d totally lost her rag, which hadn’t been good news. One of the kids had even smacked her bottom, so hard it really hurt and it reverberated around the car park. They’d all laughed and she’d had to be rescued by a male colleague. Trouble was, she knew there might have been a hint of truth in what the wretched kid had said. The tights she had now let a bit more air in. But this filthy bastard wasn’t going to see them that way.

Her skirt was coming right off her bottom.

Marsden had bared plenty of arses before, but this one was special. Big, round, warm brown, softly quivering but firm at the arsecrack – and he’d been right: her tights were cut away. In fact they framed her fat arse like an oil painting. Her silly little girly white panties were more of a decoration than a cover. Peel them down – no, he wanted them right off. Rip, tug – done.

“Congratulations, Piggy,” he said. “You’ve grown one of the five best arses I’ve ever taken. In fact, it’s probably in the top three.”

Was he just bluffing and boasting – or had he really abducted enough women to have a top five bottoms list? Suddenly she remembered her family. Up to now she’d been the determined professional, but now she thought of Mummy and Daddy, of silly Sis and even of her posturing brother. If she didn’t come back they’d be devastated.

She’d come through this for them.

Marsden sniffed a hint of girlsweat and a subtle mixing of the aromas of her cunt and her curry-flavoured arsehole. The stupid piece was trying to struggle, but that just made her buttocks jiggle and twitch. He wasn’t complaining.

He had a clear idea what he was going to do to her next.
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Old 03-05-2016, 05:15 PM   #5
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Default Aaloka's Pursuit

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Old 03-05-2016, 05:18 PM   #6
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So at last Aaloka gets the screwing she richly deserves and our hero gets proper reward for his hard work and the risks he faces. Is this the end of her suffering - or just halfway in the suffering of her end? More to come!
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Old 03-05-2016, 07:26 PM   #7
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Love it, very well done, more more!! Excellent thank you
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Old 03-05-2016, 08:16 PM   #8
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Smile Aaloka's Pursuit

Praise indeed from the master of raping policewomen! Good to be in touch again.

For the excellence of the art I have to thank the brilliant guy from whom I commissioned the pics. It's just amazing what he's done with Aaloka's expressions in particular. They give me a hard on every time!

There's a fair amount of text to add but only two more pictures before Aaloka faces her fate and Marsden gets one more bit of enjoyment out of her.

Mind you, I have two more ideas for plots to commission with him...

I'm not even sure why this one excites me so much, but the thrashing, humiliating, raping and finally, well, we can discuss what the final picture implies, but surely snuffing of sweet Aaloka is out of this world for me.
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Old 03-06-2016, 03:57 PM   #9
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Default Aaloka's Pursuit

Aaloka heard the man walk away and open something. She heard his footsteps returning. She craned round. Now she could see him – and what she saw made her shiver.

He was staring at her bare bottom. He was holding a cane. Or rather, it wasn’t quite a cane. She’d seen pictures of those in old books and also her stupid brother had got into that sort of stuff at one time – only online, of course. This was a similar shape, but a bit thicker and dark. The material might be something like fibreglass instead of wood, or leather round something harder.

It was a whip. But not at all like a riding switch – more like a shorter version of a bullwhip. She couldn’t imagine what it was going to feel like on her poor bottom.

She was going to find out.

Marsden was in no hurry. He stared at the succulent brown buttocks, at their fearful quivers and twitches. He stared at her frightened, incredulous expression. Girls like her just didn’t get their arses thrashed! Policewomen didn’t get their fat arses turned into raging fires! These things just didn’t happen! Well, this one was going to.

He lectured her: “Miss Pig – you attempted to deprive me of my liberty. For that you will be punished on your fat brown arse.”

Where to strike first? Right buttock, left buttock, right across the deep divide? Centre or underbuttock? Or even give her a cut on the sole of one of those sexy feet.

He chose dead centre. The magnificent arse spasmed and recoiled. The girl on it screamed. A red line formed, punctuated by her arsecrack. Magic! Now the right. Now the left. Make a pattern – but just when she thinks she knows what’s coming, land one right across a weal already formed. That was some scream.

The whip was precise enough, if he struck with skill, to go right into her deep crack and strike the depths of it. He struck with skill. At every stroke, she screamed. Her arse writhed about shamelessly. Then something happened which took him by surprise, though maybe it shouldn’t have done.

She started sobbing. Sobbing like a little girl. It had taken only a few minutes to reduce a proud police officer to a snivelling kid. Time to pay some attention to the other end.

He was surprised how much her face had changed. She looked defeated, exhausted, broken by pain. Good – but he hoped she still had some fight in her. Her nice tits were wobbling and thrusting with her heavy breathing. It was dead easy to tear her nice, neat, white uniform blouse apart. The wispy white bra was no trouble at all. He took a good handful of tit and squeezed. She moaned. He stroked her nipple. She moaned, but the nipple responded.

“Still feel like arresting me, pig slut?” he teased. “Nice tits, by the way. Don’t lose them.”

With a final squeeze, he let go and walked round the back again. Nothing happened. Was he still there? What was going to happen next? She was left to stew and wonder – until suddenly, his finger poked her cunt lips. Involuntarily, she groaned. The finger tickled and she felt herself reacting. It paused. She craned round enough, though it hurt, to see the man again. He was bending and sniffing her girl thing.

He straightened up and thrust his fingers in – all of them, and he kept shoving. It was horribly painful because he was rough. Yet he found her clit, tweaked it and stroked it. Shamefully, her body was responding.

“Juicy!” he said loudly. “Smells good, too.” He paused. “Fish curry.” He laughed. His laugh sounded mad. Where was this going to end?

“I always like to keep officers of the law well-informed about what’s going on round them,” he said chattily, strolling round to face her. “So here’s an update.”

He kicked his shoes off and pulled his trousers down. She couldn’t help staring at his big, stiff thing. For a little man, it was long and thick. As she watched, it rose fully to attention.

“I see you like it,” he said.

“No!” she replied. Even to her it sounded weak, tremulous. He kicked the trousers off. This could mean only one thing. But no, surely this wasn’t happening to her. She’d attended training on rape as a policing issue and had been commended for her keen attention and useful comments. She’d seen it as something awful and degrading men did to other women. She’d actually hoped she’d meet a rapist because she wanted to arrest one. Now she was about to get a practical demonstration.

He started to walk back, but stopped and turned.

“You’re Indian, aren’t you? Didn’t they used to do pig-sticking in India?” He laughed again. Now she couldn’t see him, but she knew what was coming. He pushed her forward a bit on the platform and prised her legs apart. If she could have thought of a way of resisting, she’d have resisted. There was none.

Knowing what was coming didn’t stop her squealing when his prick touched her cunt lips. He held her tightly and rammed in her. He was scarily big. It hurt. He was rough. His powerful thrusts shook her like a shack in a storm and he seemed to be pressing up beyond where he should be, filling her with his triumphant seed. As he kept thudding into her, shock and anguish was replaced by despair and exhaustion. But still he kept ramming her.

He pulled out by jamming his hands against her arsecheeks and pushing her from him. She lay softly sobbing, but relieved.

“Time to fuck your arsehole, Piggy,” he said. “Oh, congratulations. You’re the second tightest fuck I’ve ever had.” It took a moment for what he said to sink in. Then she could not help pleading:

“NO, please no, no, NOT THERE! Please – I’ve never...” Her voice tailed away.

“Never been fucked up the arse, darling?” he prompted. “Odd – your arse is just made for it. Still, look on the bright side – this is a brand new experience!”

He meant it. That fantastic arse was just made for it. He had to yank her buttocks apart and there it was – a fantastic, tight little hole she’d only ever used before to shit and fart. She twitched as he made contact. The thing resisted, of course, and it would have lost, of course, but he chose to smash it open with his finger. It came out smeared with shit, so he wiped it on the heights of her right arsecheek. Then he rammed her. She cried out with pain. This was even tighter than her cunt. His belly kept flattening her arsecheeks with each thrust. He’d known she was good for something.

To Aaloka, it seemed the torture went on for ever. When it stopped, she did not know if it would start again. But he’d finished. He came round the front again, picking up her ripped blouse to wipe himself clean.

“You slut – you’ve got shit on your blouse!” he said. “Now – I think we should have a change of position.”


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Old 03-07-2016, 07:56 AM   #10
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Problems on the site today. Most connections failing. I'll post the last two pictures when that's over.
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Old 03-07-2016, 10:15 AM   #11
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The last two pics. If I can work out how to do it, I might add a poll on what Marsden should do to Aaloka next. The last pic was laid out according to the artist's thoughts rather than mine. I get the impression he had an idea.

There is some text to follow.

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Old 03-07-2016, 10:17 AM   #12
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These pics come out bigger in the original. In the first one, he's asking her what should get chopped first. In the second, he asks the still unconscious Julie if she fancies a nice pork dinner.
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