Part of this story first appeared, unedited, in the "Story/Plot 
Ideas" section of Katie Smith's "Tracey Stories Archive," on 13 
August 2012, as Joe's proposed addition to "Slave Tracey."  I 
re-purposed it and added to it considerably, and then Joe made 
some additional changes. 




              POLICE CONSTABLE TRACY INVESTIGATES

                              by

                    Joe Doe and C. Lakewood



"God knows what takes place inside that compound, sir."  WPC Tracy 
Smith was standing rigidly at attention before the Chief Constable. 
"If I could just have permission to go in there...."

"No.  You'd need a warrant...and to get one, you'd need evidence, 
which you haven't got."

"But I KNOW they've been trucking in girls...."

"Which is not, in itself, illegal.  Now, we could act if they were 
doing something actually serious -- weren't disposing of their 
rubbish properly, were employing non-PC language, or were 
advocating reviving the grammar schools."

"But, sir...."

"No buts!  They've purchased the land legally and have permits 
to build the enclosure wall and dredge the harbor.  You should 
know they possess rights we cannot violate without sufficient 
probable cause.  And, if you persist, you'll upset Brussels.  
So drop it!  Dismissed!"

		******************************

But Tracy, who looked upon cracking this case as the key to 
promotion, was too involved with it to let it go.  That 
evening, she met with Al, a van driver she was paying out 
of her own pocket to supply her with snippets of information.  
The alley where they lurked resembled a scene from a Carol 
Reed film.    

"I've got 15 prime birds for delivery here in my van right now -- 
and, no, I won't take any photos of their 'processing' for you.  
Bloody mullahs really resent that sort of thing, and I'm too fond 
of my 'family jewels.'" 

"Then, take me with you."

"I don't think they'd even let me through the gates with a police 
woman sitting next to me in the cab.  They're VERY private...."

"I'd call it 'suspiciously secretive.'"

"Well, whatever you call it, they won't let you in if they see you 
-- not unless you have a warrant.  Of course, you COULD always hide 
in the back."

"Ah, a good idea.  I'll crouch in the back of the van, so they 
won't notice me.  Then I can listen in when they process the 
girls.  I'll soon have that warrant."

The driver guffawed loudly, much to her annoyance.  "Bollocks!  
That's the oldest gag in the book.  Sure and they wouldn't look 
for a slave girl hiding in the back of the van.  Think they're 
stupid?  The bleach must be affecting your brain, luv."

"I'm a natural blonde!" she said.  "Well, then I'll just get out 
of the van with the other girls and bluff my way through."

"That COULD work," he said.  "If you were naked."

"Naked?"

"Yes, naked," he said, suddenly looking at Tracy in a new light.  
"But REALLY naked.  No jewelry, no badge, no ID.  Everything off."

"Well, I don't know...," she said reluctantly. 

"Yeah, you're right.  It would never work anyway.  As you said, 
this lot is Grade A.  They'd spot you as a poser in a second."

"What does that mean?" she said.

"I'd bet the crown jewels you couldn't convince them you were part 
of Lot 383083-838.  This is prime pussy.  No room for an aviation 
blonde."

"'Aviation blonde'?" she asked.

"No black boxes," he replied, smirking at his own wit.

"I'm a natural blonde!  And Grade A, too!"

"Well, too bad you don't have the guts to prove it.  Especially 
too bad, since, after you're all through looking around -- and 
their security relaxes -- you'd have plenty of chances to sneak 
back to the van.  I'm always there for hours, drinking coffee and 
looking at the girls.  You could then use your radio to call for 
help.  But, now, if you'll excuse me...." 

"No guts, huh?"  Tracy slowly (but with an air of defiance) shed 
her cap, radio, belt, and truncheon and started to undo the zip 
of her uniform trousers.  She dropped and discarded them...then 
the blouse...then the socks and shoes...then, once she was down 
to her bra and panties, there was a longer hesitation.  The driver, 
smiling as he looked the blushing girl up and down, said, "Watch, 
rings, and ear-bobs, too."

"These are really expensive," she said, as she reluctantly handed 
them over.

The driver did not respond, but merely smiled as he dropped them 
into his pocket.  He gathered up her discarded uniform.  "I'll 
stow these things under my seat," he said.  A moment later, he was 
back.  Tracy hadn't moved in the interim.  "Ahem!" he said, 
pointing to her bra and panties as he cleared his throat.

"Y-you can't m-m-mean...I'll-I'll be N-NAY-KED!" she stammered.

"Yes, slave-girl naked," the driver said, correcting her.  "Bare 
right down to the skin.  Just one more set of tits-and-ass, 
bouncing around naked in the back of my truck.  Everything off.  
Now!"

She winced at the thought, then, clearly wanting to get it over 
with, swiftly unclipped her bra and let it fall from her body 
before bending forward and pulling her panties down and stepping 
out of them so that she now stood by the roadside completely naked. 

He snapped his fingers and said, impatiently, "Let's have 'em."  
She blushed redder, but handed over the panties, then went back 
to trying to cover herself with her hands.  He fingered them.  
"Damp, eh?" 

"Those polyester trousers are so hot.  I-I...um...sweat."

"Sure.  Sweat...."  He tucked the panties into his pocket, at the 
same time pulling out something metallic.

"They'll expect you to be cuffed, like the rest," he noted, as he 
smoothly handcuffed her wrists behind her back.  

"Owww!" Tracy whined.  "That's too tight!"

"Have to make 'em tight, luv.  Don't want you to slip 'em, do we?  
Plus, having your arms held back that way will make those big 
hooters of yours jiggle real nice when they make you do your 
inspection hop," he added, as he playfully massaged Tracy's 
nipples.  "Here, I'll show you what I mean.  Hop on one foot."

"I don't think...."

She involuntarily hopped as she slapped her bare bottom, HARD. 
"Hop, girl!  Left foot only.  Make those titties bounce!"

Feeling quite off-balance with her hands behind her back, Tracy 
nonetheless managed to hop on one foot.  As predicted, her breasts 
bounced like jello. 

"Right foot!" he commanded, punctuating his command with a second 
hard spank across her bare bottom.  He couldn't decide which was 
more jiggly, her bouncing boobs or her freshly spanked bottom.  
Fortunately, he didn't have to choose, for, as she hopped around 
in a little circle, he got to enjoy both. 

"Okay, now I just have to do a quick inspection.  Bend over."

"But...."

SLAP!  A hard spank across her bottom and a hand on the back of 
her neck forced her forward.  She closed her eyes and winced as 
he began to fondle her.  She tried to ignore the comments of 
drunken passersby.  She was glad that Al was big and burly 
enough that none came too close.

"Legs apart.  Yes, not bad....  Grade A pussy has to be sweet 
and moist.  Let's give it a little rub....  Yes, you're juicing 
up nicely.  A natural blonde, too, and neatly trimmed.  Brilliant 
-- though they'll take off the rest first thing.  All in all, I 
might have been wrong about you, missy."

"Well, then...." 

"But I'm just a driver."  He continued fingering her.  "Best to 
leave the grading up to the professionals.  They'll grade you at 
the same time as they bar-code you."

"B-bar-code me?" she said. "Bu-bu-but I'm not a...a s-slave....  
Oh, goddamn!"  She was shamelessly wriggling, impaled on his 
thick fingers.  

"Yeah, but they have the equipment right there.  When you step off 
the truck, they'll probably just slap a code on the bottom of your 
foot -- rather inconspicuous -- and then register you.  Don't 
worry, luv.  It'll only take a few seconds."  He pulled his fingers 
out of her with a squelch, leaving Tracy weak-kneed and sagging 
against the van.  "However, they're really tough on blasphemers.  
This is for your own good," he said, balling up her panties, 
thrusting them into her gasping mouth, and securing the gag with 
a strip of duct tape. 

"Well, let's get you down there then...might even get a better deal 
for 16 girls than 15," he laughed and smacked her bare bottom again 
as she climbed up into the packed van.  Inside the vehicle, it 
smelled like girls in heat.  Tracy was too distracted by her own 
need, however, to be repulsed.  Indeed, she found the stench to be 
intoxicating.  "Sweat" began trickling down her thighs.

The door was slammed, and, within seconds, the van pulled away, 
leaving behind only a discarded bra on the shadowed cobbles. 
 
		******************************

A few minutes later, one of the other manacled girls managed to 
slip a finger between Tracy's legs.  Tracy was startled, then 
mortified...then very pleased.  She did not pull away, but let 
the unknown girl gently massage her ever-wetter cunt.

Inside the cab, the driver adjusted the camera he had in the cargo 
area so he could focus on Tracy.  He loved the sight of her big 
tits bouncing as he went over the speed bumps in the parking lot 
and then over the railroad tracks.  Thinking quickly, he by-passed 
the motorway, deciding instead to take the old pot-holed dirt road 
that, eventually, led to the compound.

Tracy, unaware of the show she was providing the driver, stewed in 
her own juices as every unexpected bounce, shake, and shimmer of 
the rocking van affected the hand probing her aching cunt.  She 
lost count of the number of orgasms on the long, endless ride.

It was a happy journey for all, and the driver was certainly in no 
hurry, at least until a voice crackled over his radio.  "Where are 
you?  They're already loading the container ship, and they need 
those girls.  AND, we have another pickup for you in Nottingham."

"Damn!" the driver thought, pulling off the dirt road and heading 
back toward the highway.  "Looks like I'll have to drop off my 
hot little policewoman and come back later....  I hope I can make 
it back in time." 

Then he shrugged.  "But, if not...."