Strip search story let me know your thoughts
Raul and Officer Smith
Raul's heart pounded as the oppressive heat of the sun beat down on his bare legs. He could feel the eyes of the racist behemoth, Officer Smith, burning into his back as the cop's rough, hairy hands roamed over his body. Each touch was a violation of his dignity, a cruel reminder of his vulnerability in the face of authority. Despite his fear and discomfort, Raul remained as still as a statue, his palms sweaty against the warm metal of the car, his legs quivering as the officer's grip tightened around his genitals. The coarse fabric of his shorts provided little barrier from the invasive grasp. "Don't move, boy," Officer Smith growled, his voice thick with malice. Raul's stomach clenched as a single tear rolled down his cheek, dropping to the asphalt like a silent rebellion against the injustice. He took a shallow breath, trying to suppress the sob that threatened to escape his throat, and whispered, "Yes, sir."
Ignoring Raul's quiet plea, Officer Smith's grip grew firmer, his knuckles digging into the sensitive flesh of Raul's inner thighs. The young man's eyes squeezed shut as he endured the painful and unwanted intimacy, his mind racing with thoughts of escape and anger. But the fear of what the sadistic cop might do if he resisted kept him rooted in place, trembling under the weight of the man's power. With each passing second, the hatred in the officer's eyes grew more intense, as if he were feeding off Raul's distress. The sound of a car door slamming shut echoed through the deserted road, making them both jump. Raul's eyes darted to the side, spotting a new patrol car pulling up behind them. He felt a flicker of hope, his pulse racing at the thought of rescue or at least an end to this horrific encounter. But as the figure emerged from the second vehicle, the hope was snuffed out. It was another officer, equally as large and intimidating as Smith, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he approached the scene.
The new arrival, Officer Jenkins, sauntered over with a chuckle, his gaze raking over Raul's exposed and vulnerable form. "Looks like you've got quite the situation here, Smith," he jeered, the amusement clear in his tone. Smith's grip on Raul's crotch loosened slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a smug grin. "Yeah, caught this little greaser trying to smuggle in some goodies," he replied, his voice dripping with disdain. The lie was a thinly veiled excuse for the sadistic power play unfolding before them. As Raul felt a fresh wave of despair wash over him, Officer Jenkins stepped closer, his shadow falling over the trembling young man. The newcomer's hand hovered near the handcuffs at his belt, his eyes glinting with a mix of hunger and anticipation. "Mind if I take a look?" he asked, the question tinged with a dark promise of his own intentions. Smith stepped back, his hand lingering on Raul's hip before finally releasing him. "Help yourself," he said with a sneer, gesturing for Jenkins to take over. As the second set of hands closed in on him, Raul's knees threatened to buckle. The fear of what was to come was almost too much to bear, but he knew he had to endure it, to survive this twisted game of power and prejudice.
Officer Jenkins stepped in, his beefy hand reaching for Raul's waist. "On your knees," he barked, and despite the fear clawing at his insides, Raul obeyed. The second cop's touch was no less invasive than Smith's, his fingers digging into his skin as he began his own degrading search. Raul gritted his teeth, willing his body not to respond to the unwelcome contact, his mind racing for a way out. As Jenkins' hand traveled up his spine, pausing briefly at the base of his neck, the sound of a third patrol car approaching brought a flicker of hope. The two officers exchanged a furtive glance, and for a moment, their grips loosened. Raul's heart leaped in his chest, the sudden release giving him a brief taste of freedom. But as the third cop emerged from the vehicle, it was clear he was no ally. He was grinning, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the young Mexican on his knees before the two larger men. "Looks like you boys are having some fun," he said, his voice dripping with the same malicious delight as his colleagues'. Raul's stomach twisted into a knot, his hope turning to cold dread as he realized he was trapped in a trio of brutality. The officers' eyes gleamed with excitement, their grins widening in anticipation of what was to come. The world around him was a blur, the only thing clear was the hatred emanating from the three white figures that now surrounded him, eager to exert their dominance.
Officer Smith stepped aside, allowing Raul to turn around, his legs trembling as he leaned against the cold metal of the patrol car. The two officers, having shared a silent understanding with their new accomplice, stepped back to allow their comrade to take the lead. Raul's breath hitched as Officer Smith stepped closer, his stomach churning with fear and disgust. "Spread 'em wide," Smith barked, and Raul, with a shaky sigh, did as he was told. The cop's hands roamed over his body, pressing firmly through his clothing, a clear demonstration of his control. He felt the officer's thick fingers slide along his waistband, dipping just low enough to graze the top of his buttocks, making his skin crawl. The frisk was methodical, almost clinical in its invasiveness, as Smith's hands moved up and down his legs, across his abdomen, and along the line of his chest. Raul's heart raced, his eyes fixed on the horizon, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the distant view. But all he could focus on was the heavy weight of the man's hands, the sound of his own ragged breathing, and the mocking chuckles of the officers as they watched the degradation unfold. He was acutely aware of every touch, every squeeze, and every deliberate caress that was never meant to find contraband but rather to assert their twisted dominance over him. The frisk was thorough, each movement of their hands a silent declaration of power, leaving no inch of his body untouched. And though his clothes remained in place, the violation felt just as profound, leaving him feeling exposed and helpless beneath their cruel gazes.
Officer Smith's meaty hand slid down to the front of Raul's shorts again, his thumb pressing against the mound of Raul's genitals, attempting to discern whether he was circumcised or not through the fabric. Raul's face contorted with a mix of fear and disgust, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to ignore the unwelcome intrusion. "You're not even one of those clean-cut little boys, are you?" Smith sneered, his voice thick with disdain. "You're all just dirty, uncivilized savages." Raul's stomach clenched, his uncircumcised state now a source of humiliation for these men. The two other officers watched with rapt attention, their grins growing wider with every passing moment of Raul's suffering. The pain was unbearable, the indignity almost too much to take, but he knew better than to speak up. His only defense was his silence, his only weapon his refusal to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. As Smith's thumb lingered, applying more pressure, Raul felt his uncircumcised penis shift under the fabric, a stark reminder of the differences they sought to use against him. He could feel the officers' anticipation building, their excitement palpable as they waited for his response. But he remained stoic, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his mind racing with thoughts of how to survive this ordeal without losing himself to their cruelty.
Officer Smith's hand remained on Raul's groin, his thumb continuing to probe with a mix of curiosity and contempt. Raul's entire body was a battleground of humiliation and pain, his dignity stripped away with every sickening press and squeeze. Despite the professional guise of the frisk, the officers' true intentions were clear, each touch a deliberate violation meant to assert their dominance. The fabric of his shorts stretched tightly over his genitals as the cop's hand moved in a slow, deliberate circle, the friction making him want to scream. Yet, he remained silent, his eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the sound of his own tortured breaths to drown out the taunts and leers of the three men who had taken it upon themselves to reduce him to nothing more than a body to be controlled. The frisk went on, a never-ending cycle of invasiveness that seemed to seep into his very soul, leaving him feeling soiled and exposed. The warmth of his own tears on his cheeks was the only sensation that kept him grounded in reality, a stark contrast to the cold steel of the patrol car at his back and the unyielding grip of Officer Smith's hand.
Officer Smith's eyes widened with a mix of shock and depraved excitement as his thumb encountered something hard and unyielding beneath the fabric of Raul's shorts. "What's this?" he sneered, his hand moving with the confidence of a predator who had found his prey's weak spot. He felt the unmistakable shape of a small bag nestled within the folds of Raul's foreskin. "Looks like we've got ourselves a little stash, huh?" He yanked Raul around to face him, the younger man's eyes wide with fear as the cop's grin grew even more sinister. Without a word of warning, Smith tugged at the waistband of Raul's shorts, pulling them down just enough to expose his uncircumcised penis to the harsh daylight. "Well, well, well," Smith chuckled, his eyes ogling the sight with a mix of disgust and fascination. "What do we have here?" He reached down and pinched the base of Raul's penis, causing him to gasp in pain as the bag was revealed. The other officers leaned in, their eyes glinting with malice as they took in the sight of the hairy, uncircumcised organ. The humiliation washed over Raul like a wave, his cheeks flushing red as he desperately tried to pull his shorts back up. But the officers were too strong, their grip on his arms unyielding as they held him in place. "Looks like you've been hiding more than your dirty little secret," Smith said, his voice thick with loathing as he yanked the bag of cocaine from its hiding place, holding it up like a trophy. Raul's world spun around him as the noose of accusation tightened, the weight of their contemptuous gazes crushing the last of his dignity.
With a sadistic grin, Officer Smith yanked Raul's shorts back into place, the fabric scraping painfully against his sensitive skin. "You're under arrest," he announced, his voice filled with triumph. The two other officers released their grip, stepping aside as Smith pulled out his handcuffs with a metallic clink. Raul felt the cold steel close around his wrists, the clicking of the cuffs echoing in his ears like the final nail in his coffin of freedom. As the two other officers moved away, their chuckles fading into the distance, Smith took the opportunity to conduct a final, degrading search. He slipped his hands under Raul's shirt, feeling his way across the young man's flat stomach, his touch cold and unwelcome. Moving to his armpits, he squeezed and poked, eliciting a gag as his thick fingers brushed against the sensitive skin. Without warning, Smith's hand shot up, forcing Raul's mouth open. The cop's digits invaded the warm recesses of his mouth, poking and prodding, the taste of metal and sweat making him retch. "Say 'ah,'" Smith jeered, his eyes gleaming with pleasure at Raul's discomfort. The younger man complied, his mouth watering with bile as the cop's knuckles pushed against his tongue. The intrusion was a final blow to his dignity, a parting shot in a battle he had never wanted to fight. The frisk complete, Smith stepped back. "You're coming with me," he said, his voice thick with lust. Raul nodded, his eyes downcast, his mind racing with the horror of what was to come as the handcuffs dug into his skin, a painful reminder of his new reality as a prisoner to the whims of a corrupt and hateful man.
As the engine of the patrol car roared to life, Raul felt the cold steel of the handcuffs bite into his wrists, a constant reminder of the unforgiving fate that awaited him. He took a shaky breath and gathered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at him since the moment of his arrest. "Officer...Officer Smith, what will happen to me in jail?" The words barely left his mouth before he felt the car jerk into motion, carrying him away from the only life he had ever known and towards a nightmare of uncertainty. Smith's eyes remained fixed on the road, his smile a twisted rictus of pleasure as he replied, "Well, you'll get a nice strip search, for starters. Just to make sure you're not hiding any more of your dirty little secrets." Raul's eyes grew wide with fear at the thought, his body tensing. He had heard the horror stories of what happened to people like him in the hands of the corrupt system, of the degrading and brutal rituals that awaited those who were deemed less than human. A single tear slid down his cheek, and before he could stop it, a sob broke from his chest. He didn't know if it was from the pain, the fear, or the overwhelming sense of betrayal that coursed through his veins. The officers in the front seat exchanged glances, their smirks widening at the sound of Raul's quiet sobs. They knew that the real punishment was just beginning, and the power they held over him was intoxicating. The car sped down the empty road, the sirens a mournful wail that seemed to echo the despair in Raul's heart. The police station loomed ahead, a fortress of cold steel and concrete that promised no mercy to those who entered its gates.
Officer Smith led Raul into the stark, sterile room designated for strip searches, the cold air conditioning a stark contrast to the heat of the day. The walls were lined with unyielding white tiles that reflected the harsh fluorescent light, and the scent of industrial cleaners did little to mask the underlying odor of fear and despair. The handcuffs were removed, and with a firm shove, Raul was instructed to stand with his palms flat against the wall, his legs spread. He complied, his heart racing, his eyes flicking back to meet the cop's lecherous gaze before being barked at once again. "Don't look at me," Smith snarled, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Stare at the wall." Raul turned his head, the muscles in his neck straining as he focused on the grout lines, willing them to blur and take him away from the reality of his situation. With his hands no longer bound, he felt a fleeting sense of relief, but it was quickly replaced by the overwhelming dread that pooled in his stomach as Smith stepped closer. The cop's eyes raked over him, a predator assessing his prey, his leer a silent declaration of the control he held. "Spread 'em wider," he ordered, and despite his protesting muscles, Raul obeyed, his legs trembling as the gap between them grew. He felt the fabric of his shorts tugging taut against his thighs, the vulnerability of his exposed body leaving him feeling like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, about to be consumed by the monsters that lurked within the very institution that was supposed to protect him. Smith's eyes never left Raul, a sick excitement glinting in their depths as he took in the sight of the young man's barely concealed genitals. The room grew smaller, the air thick with tension, and all Raul could do was stand, trapped in the crosshairs of the officer's sadistic stare.
Officer Smith's voice was a gruff command. "Turn around and put your hands behind your head." Raul complied, the cold cinder block wall against his palms a stark contrast to the heat of his own skin. He could feel the cop's gaze as it traveled over him, picturing him stripped of his clothing, a plaything for their sick amusement. His cheeks burned with humiliation as Smith's eyes lingered on the bulge in his shorts, his breathing growing more ragged with each passing second. The room was eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of the station outside the door. The anticipation was palpable, thickening the air until it was almost unbearable. Raul's heart raced as he stared at the wall, his mind screaming for this to be over, his body trembling with fear. He knew that every move he made, every breath he took, was being scrutinized, and that any sign of resistance would only fuel the officers' sadistic desires. So, he remained still, his muscles taut with the effort of not flinching, not moving, as he felt the first brush of a hand against his hip. The touch was feather-light, almost a caress, as if the cop was savoring the moment before the real violation began. The silence stretched on, each second a tiny eternity, until finally, Smith spoke again, his voice low and hungry. "Now, let's get you ready for that cavity search," he said, his words a promise of the degradation to come. Raul felt his stomach drop, his mind racing with the horror of what that entailed. He took a deep, shaky breath, steeling himself for the worst. But he didn't move. He couldn't. The fear had paralyzed him, his mind a battleground of submission and survival instinct. The hand on his hip grew firmer, sliding upward, and the touch grew more invasive, more possessive. Yet, he remained still, his eyes never leaving the wall, his thoughts a tumultuous storm of despair and resentment. The only sound was the steady beat of his own heart, a drumming reminder of his vulnerability in the face of his power.
Officer Smith's hand paused on Raul's hip, the sadistic glint in his eyes flickering with a hint of something else—compassion? "You seem pretty nervous, kid," he said, his tone softer than before. "Would it make you feel any better if I...evened the playing field?" He took a step back, his eyes never leaving Raul's. "What do you say? Should I strip down too?" Raul's eyes widened, and his breath hitched in his throat. "I...I don't know, sir," he stuttered, his voice quivering with a mix of fear and confusion. Smith chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to fill the small space. "Well, you're in luck," he said, his smile turning into a smirk. "Because I'm feeling generous today." He reached for the zipper of his pants, and Raul's heart skipped a beat. But then the cop stopped, his hand hovering just above the tab. "Nah, I don't think that's necessary," he said, his eyes gleaming with a newfound power. "Let's keep this professional, shall we?" He stepped closer again, his hand resuming its journey up Raul's body, his touch no longer feather-light but firm and unyielding. "Spread 'em wider," he barked, his voice a harsh contrast to the brief glimpse of kindness he had shown. Raul obeyed, the fabric of his shorts stretching tightly across his buttocks, exposing his most intimate parts to the leering gaze of the officer. He felt the hand hover over his backside, the anticipation making his skin crawl. But as the touch grew more intimate, something strange began to happen. The fear and humiliation melded with a flicker of anger, a spark of defiance that grew stronger with every passing moment. He was not just a body to be violated, but a person, a human being with a name and a life beyond these walls. And as the hand hovered, unmoving, he knew that no matter what happened next, he would not let them break him.
