SUMMER FESTIVAL
by
Joe Doe
WHEN THE POLICE DEPARTMENT DECIDES TO OPEN UP A STRIP-SEARCH
DEMONSTRATION TENT AT THE CITY'S SUMMER FESTIVAL, TV REPORTER
DEBBIE NORTON GETS THE INSIDE STORY.
DN: Hello, everyone. This is Debbie Norton, and I'm live at the
downtown Summer Festival. Food, music, and fun are once again
the heart of the annual festival. But this year's visitors will
find that the city police force has added something new.
As part of Summer Festival, the local police force is giving area
females the chance to experience an actual police strip-search.
I'm standing in the police department's strip-search tent with
Captain Bill Gropem of the city police. Tell me, Captain, how
did you get the idea for this event?
BG: Well, Debbie, you may remember that we used to strip-search
attractive young ladies for even the most trivial offenses until
we had that big scandal and all those lawsuits a few years ago.
As a result, a lot of local women have never experienced a
strip-search. Attractive women who want to be searched are
often forced go on driving tours of the Deep South.
A truly professional strip-search is an unforgettable experience,
which is why we are offering it at this year's festival as part
of our department's "Community Outreach Program." This program
really allows the officers to get a feel for the women of our
fair city.
DN: How much does it cost?
BG: The actual strip-search itself is free of charge. However, we
do charge the male spectators who sit in the bleachers surrounding
the strip-search area 50 cents each. And there is an additional $5
"Deputation" charge if one of the spectators wants to help conduct
the search. And, of course, the videos are sold separately.
DN: But...50 cents doesn't seem like very much money to watch all
of these beautiful women strip down naked....
BG: We intentionally keep the prices low to encourage community
participation.
Of course, some of the women don't like it much. The low prices
mean that the women end up undressing in front of...a rather large
cross section of society. This sometimes causes some problems.
DN: What sort of problems, Captain?
BG: One corporate executive objected to having to strip in front
of a homeless man. It seems she had been snubbing him outside her
office building for years, repeatedly calling the police to roust
him. Naturally, when she was forced to strip down in front of him,
the vagrant became quite boisterous. He made a lot of crude and
very graphic remarks about her body, and he taunted, "You don't
look so snooty now that it's YOUR turn to prance around in front
of ME."
She was blushing crimson, and begged us not to make her strip "in
front of that BUM!" But a little bit of embarrassment is no reason
to stop a search. Of course the audience just loved it, and a few
of the guys even gave the homeless man some spare change so that he
could afford the "Deputy" fee.
DN: You mean the homeless man actually CAVITY SEARCHED her?
BG: You bet, Debbie. He did a very thorough job of it too, I might
add.
DN: Um...I'm sure he did. Tell me Captain, what will happen to all
of the money you raise?
BG: It will all go to our "Police Children's Charity" group.
DN: The tent is unbelievably crowded, and the videos are selling
like hotcakes. How much money have you raised so far?
BG: Only about $20, Debbie. Unfortunately there isn't much money
left after you deduct the cost of the overtime, the free beer for
the officers working the booth, and the complimentary videos we
give out to the workers and the city officials. But everyone has
a good time, and that's the important thing.
Face painting and pictures of McGruff the crime dog are okay, but,
as you can see, we're generating quite a bit more traffic this
year.
DN: That's an understatement; this place is PACKED! I'm going to
ask my cameraman, Steve, to pan his camera over to the area near
the entrance to the tent, where those women are undressing. Is
that where the processing begins, Captain?
BG: Yes, Debbie, that is the actual stripping area. Women are
assigned their numbers, and they place their purses and other
valuables in the numbered crates given to them by their "strip
officers." Each woman's "strip officer" guides her through the
process and ensures we check every nook and cranny.
DN: By "other valuables," do you mean their clothing?
BG: Yes, Debbie, that's correct.
DN: A-all of their clothing?
BG: Every stitch!
DN: Do any of the women ever ask to keep their underwear on,
Captain? I noticed that there is a whole bleacher area filled
with hooting and whistling men directly in front of the stripping
area, and numerous video cameras are recording their strip from
every angle. Do any of the women ever get cold feet?
BG: Yes, Debbie, particularly after they remove their shoes and
socks. Ha-ha. Just a little police humor there, Debbie.
DN: Very funny, sir. But can you just answer the questions?
BG: Don't get snippy, young lady!
DN: Sorry, sir.
BG: Some of the women change their minds, but it really doesn't
matter. Before any woman enters the tent she signs a release form
that authorizes us to strip her naked and perform a cavity search.
It also contains the video release rights. Once the form is
signed, consent is given.
DN: So you actually force the women to strip?
BG: "Force" is too strong a word, Debbie. Usually just the sight
of four or five beefy police officers glaring at her is enough to
convince the little honey to start shucking down.
But, if they still hesitate, we warn them that resisters get
a "baton search." And when they see one of us sticking a big
black police baton into the tub of lubricant, well, the little
darlings generally can't wait to start peeling....
DN: Do the women always realize what they are agreeing to? When
I signed a form outside, the officer said it was necessary for
insurance reasons.
BG: Yes, that's true. The insurance company doesn't like it when
fancy pants lawyers bleed us dry in lawsuits over so-called
"gratuitous and totally unnecessary" strip-searches.
DN (thoughtfully): Um...I did think it was strange that none of the
guys on my camera crew had to sign....
BG: Sometimes we do get women who get in line simply because they
see other beautiful women and assume it must be a beauty contest
of some sort. And some women think they are signing some sort of
petition. But let's be honest, Debbie. A beautiful woman has to
be pretty stupid to sign a strip-search consent form without
reading it.
DN: I didn't read the form, Captain. When a smiling, clean-cut
police officer in a uniform asks a woman to sign a form that has
the words "Community Friendship" at the top....
BG: Hee-hee. We got you fair and square, Goldilocks! Don't be
such a poor sport!
DN: So some of the women in the tent don't realize they are going
to be searched?
BG: Ha-ha-ha. Only the blondes!
DN: I'm a blonde, Captain.
BG: Yes, Debbie, I can see that. And a very lovely blonde, if you
don't mind my saying so.
DN: Thank you...I think. About how long does it usually take to
search a female suspect?
BG: On hot days, the little bimbos dress in next to nothing, so it
doesn't take long to strip them down. And I do love stripping the
little teasers. Pretty women enjoy prancing around in their half
shirts and shorts, with their cute little belly buttons on display,
but you should see the panicked look in their eyes when they
realize they are going to be showing a lot more skin than they
intended.
Of course, during the week, women come over from downtown for
lunch, or after work. They're typically wearing business suits
like the one you have on. It takes a bit longer to strip them
down. How long it takes depends on how much they are wearing.
For example, tell me, Debbie: exactly what are YOU wearing?
DN: A white blouse and blue skirt, and my news blazer of course.
BG: Well, I can see that, Debbie; I'M not the one who's a blonde.
I meant...what are you wearing...underneath? If you were going
to be searched, what would you have to take off?
DN: I'm wearing a slip, and a matching bra and panty set. And a
garter belt and hose.
BG: What color are your bra and panties, Debbie?
DN: R-red, but I don't see where that has any relevance to....
BG: I like red lingerie, Debbie. I bet you look sexy in it...cute
and bouncy, but kind of slutty too. Is it all soft, and fancy, and
lacy? I bet the guys would love that.
It wouldn't take long to strip you down, Debbie. But I would take
my time...and make sure you peeled it off nice and slow, so
everyone got a good look....
DN: Um, I think we're getting off the subject, Captain. I
understand that you are using a controversial face scanning
system to identify female felons.
BG: It's not really controversial, Debbie. We set up video cameras
throughout the festival, and the computer scans their faces and
identifies felons. Naturally, we bring them down here for a strip
search before we fingerprint them to verify their identities.
DN: Are they put through the same strip-search process as the other
women?
BG: Yes, Debbie. All of the women are stripped buck naked and
given a thorough cavity search, regardless of whether they are
technically charged or not. For purposes of the search, it
doesn't matter if you are a felon, a college professor, or an
advertising executive.
You could even be a TV news anchorwoman....
Did anyone ever tell you that you have a lovely figure, Debbie?
DN: Um...thank you, Captain. But I would really rather stay on the
subject.
BG: But I am staying on the subject, Debbie. Most of the women in
here are pretty, of course, but you're a real stunner. And I bet
you'd look even better without that business suit. Long shapely
legs, pert breasts, a tight, saucy little backside....
DN: Um, Captain, let's talk about the scanning process some more.
Have your computer identifications resulted in any arrests?
BG: Two, Debbie. We captured one woman with several overdue
library books, and one woman who had over $50 in unpaid parking
tickets. Both of those little miscreants felt the hand of law,
let me assure you!
DN: Do you ever get any false positives, Captain? Does the
computer ever identify any women as criminals who are totally
innocent?
BG: Very rarely.
DN: Are those women strip-searched?
BG: Regrettably, the actual strip-search takes place BEFORE the
fingerprinting, so I'm sorry to say that they are searched. But
it is important to strip-search suspects as quickly as possible.
DN: How many false positives have you had?
BG: I don't keep count...a few.
DN: According to my sources, the computer system has wrongly
identified almost 4,000 women in the last 7 days.
BG: That many? Ha-ha. Well, golly gee-whiz....
DN: One of your men told me that he uses the computer system to
restock the tent when the supply of "fresh meat" is running low.
Attractive female secretaries and executives who come over for
lunch routinely find themselves dragged off the midway for
humiliating searches.
BG: There are fewer volunteers during the week, Debbie, so
naturally we step up computer surveillance to fill the excess
capacity; that's good law enforcement. Besides, the Summer
Festival is supposed to be fun, and we are just trying to meet
audience expectations.
DN: One of your men told me that they scanned the pictures of
female neighbors, co-workers, and even local celebrities into
the computer to create false positives. Several female police
officers and FBI agents, four female judges, and two of the
female pop-stars performing at the Festival were stripped stark
naked and searched in front of a crowd of drooling men.
BG: Well, boys will be boys. A harmless little prank never hurt
anyone. If a man wants to slip a police officer a few dollars to
scan his neighbor's picture into our system, where's the harm? It
just makes a better show for everyone.
Besides, I bet the video we made of that blonde bimbo singer is
going to sell a lot more copies than her crummy album will. When
I drove my finger home, she really hit the high notes.
DN: That's hardly the point, Captain. To strip a famous female
celebrity stark naked in front of a cheering throng is....
BG: Your comment about "female celebrities" did get me thinking
though, Debbie. Maybe we should check the system for YOUR
picture....
DN: I don't think that's really necessary.
BG: You're right, Debbie. After all, you already signed the
consent form, didn't you?
DN: Maybe we should...um...change topics. After the initial
search, the women are led over to this second processing area.
Steve, can you pan the camera to the holding area?
BG: As you can see, Debbie, the main holding area is a series of
picnic tables arranged in a circle, with bleachers built all around
for the spectators. After the women are stripped naked, they are
required to kneel over the benches, until the initial search can be
completed.
DN: I noticed that all of the women's legs are spread...extremely
wide. It seems like an extremely...vulnerable position.
BG: Yes, Debbie, it's meant to be. The disrobing process takes
the ginger out of most of the young ladies; a slow, embarrassing
striptease-to-order in front of a mob of cheering louts is a real
lesson in humility. But, if you look closely, you'll notice that
a few of the women still have a tiny hint of defiance in their eyes.
Thirty minutes on the bench, with their legs spread nice and wide
for all the men to enjoy, flicks away their few remaining crumbs
of pride and self-respect.
DN: I can see that there are placards between each woman's legs.
What are those for?
BG: The signs display each woman's search number. For example, if
you wanted to search that cute little redhead at the end of the
row, you could go to the "Deputizing" table, pay five dollars, and
tell them you want to search ABD7.
The officer on duty will swear you in as a deputy, and, when the
little redhead is led over to the examination table, you'll be
given a rubber glove so that you can "lend a hand." And there's
plenty of lube for everyone, Debbie.
DN (under her breath): Sounds like a free grope to me…
BG: It's not free; it's $5. And I prefer the term, "community
policing," young lady.
There are other advantages to the numbering system as well. The
procedure is designed to transform these women from independent,
successful career women into helpless, pretty playthings. Taking
away their clothes, ogling them, slapping them on their bare
fannies when they dawdle, and replacing their names with numbers
destroys their self-confidence and quickly reduces them to the
status of powerless, naked bimbos.
During the half hour the woman is on the bench, the men can
communicate with the women by calling out their numbers. For
example, you'll notice that man in the front row is telling
ABD7 that he has already purchased his deputy's badge....
VOICE OF THE MAN IN THE CROWD: I'm going to enjoy watching you
wiggle around my finger, you little red-headed fox. Look at that!
Her little bottom hole is puckering up. You just can't wait, can
you, Little Red? Don't worry...it won't be long now.
BG: Of course, in many cases, the men are fortunate enough to
actually know the women they are searching. The strip-search
tent allows male flunkies to search their female bosses, lowly
orderlies to search doctors, and construction workers to search
the women who run their contracting companies. But, in those
cases where they don't know the woman's name, the number allows
a man to communicate his intentions.
It's pretty funny really...watching the young ladies' privates
pucker up and quiver while the men tease and taunt them.
Of course, some of the women actually get a little excited; a
few try to wipe themselves, but we don't allow that. We make
them kneel there, with their legs spread nice and wide, and the
juices dribbling down their thighs.
DN: Although it is quite warm outside, I noticed that it is very
cool in here. Is the tent air conditioned?
BG: Yes, we do everything we can to keep the audience comfortable.
Some of the ladies complain that it's a bit chilly, and, if you
look around, you'll notice there are a lot of stiff nipples.
We keep a current of cool air drifting past the benches and exam
tables because of the bright lights we use for the videos. It
does make the women a bit squirmy, but that adds to the show.
Can you imagine what it must feel like, Debbie? Being spread out
in front of all those men, with the cold air whistling between your
milky white thighs? Can you imagine how exposed you would feel,
with your bare fanny sticking up in the air and a cool breeze
blowing between your legs?
DN: Um...I'm sure it's a-a unique sensation. Captain, who is that
man standing in the corner near the benches, flexing the long
stick?
BG: That gentlemen is known as "The Professor," and the stick he
is flexing is the cane that he used at the Women's Reformatory.
He's retired now, but he graciously volunteered to help us maintain
discipline when the girls are on the benches.
Whenever one of women tries to close her legs, or lets her bottom
sag down to rest on her heels, the Professor "reminds her" to
"resume the position" by placing a few stripes across the tender
cheeks of her disobedient little backside.
DN: You actually cane adult women? You actually SPANK them...like
they were naughty schoolgirls? But these women are respected
professionals, and they're all over 18; they're not children!
BG: I can assure you that the cane is as effective on the bare
bottom of a 31-year-old stock broker as it is on any delinquent.
Naughty girls come in all shapes and sizes. Just the sound of the
cane SLICING through the air brings all of the girls to attention.
As soon as they hear the WHOOSH, every girl on the bench spreads
her legs just a little wider, and strains to arch her bare fanny
up just a bit higher.
The Professor was delighted to help. He says that all of those
cute little bare fannies lined up in a row, twitching and squirming
while he SWISHES his cane through the air reminds him of the good
old days.
DN: But these women are too old to be....
BG: You may THINK that you're too old to be disciplined in such
a childish and degrading manner. You won't like a laughing,
whistling audience cheering every stroke. But I'm sure that,
after you've experienced the cane firsthand, Debbie, you'll
understand how effective it is in teaching absolute obedience.
Have you ever been caned, Debbie?
DN: Of course not!
BG: Imagine yourself nervously biting your lip while the Professor
teasingly measured out the first stroke across your soft, supple
backside. Imagine your tender cheeks quivering in anticipation as
the "practice strokes" SWISHED through the air.
Your heart would race as you realized that you were no longer a
powerful and successful newscaster -- you were just another naughty
schoolgirl, anxiously tensing your bottom cheeks in anticipation as
you awaited your painful and shameful chastisement.
You would nervously glance back over your shoulder, but a few taps
of the cane would remind you to keep your eyes facing front and
your bottom raised high. The crowd would hold its breath as the
Professor raised the cane high into the air....
The harsh kiss of the cane would teach you respect for the law,
young lady.
Of course, first I would have to get you out of those fancy
clothes....
DN: My clothes?
BG: Of course, Debbie. Naughty girls are always caned on their
bare fannies, and there is certainly no reason to treat you any
different. Look...I think there's a space opening up on that
picnic bench now....
DN: Um...let's talk more about the exam area itself. After twenty
or thirty minutes on the bench, the supervising officer leads the
girls -- women -- over to the exam table. Tell me what happens
then.
BG: The officer orders the woman to climb onto the table and put
her feet into the stirrups. Even after their experience at the
picnic table, most of them are still pretty reluctant to "get into
the saddle." But the sight of the Professor flexing the cane is
usually enough to convince them that it's time to "mount up!"
There's something uniquely humiliating about the stirrups. I've
seen some of the toughest women you could imagine -- FBI agents,
army officers, corporate CEOs -- cringe at the mere sight of them.
Here, put your hand on one of them, Debbie, and I'll show you what
I mean.
DN: I think I'd rather not.
BG: Go ahead, Debbie. Put your hand on one of the stirrups, and
tell me what you feel.
DN: It feels metallic...and cold.
BG: Icy cold, Debbie. And that's just your hand. Imagine how cold
it would feel when you had to put your dainty, little bare foot
into it.
Can you imagine what it would feel like to have to put your bare
feet into the stirrups, with all of these lustful men watching you,
and video cameras recording you from every angle?
Of course you'd WANT to close your legs. You'd desperately want to
shield yourself from the prying eyes and crude remarks of the men
in front of you. But the stirrups wouldn't let you. The stirrups
would keep your legs split high and wide.
The men would see everything, Debbie....
I notice you're breathing faster, Debbie, and your skin is flushed.
I hope you're not one of those little sluts who gets EXCITED at the
thought of being strip-searched. There's nothing worse than being
ordered onto the exam table when you're all hot...and wet...and
juicy....
Imagine the way the crowd would cheer when you put your feet into
the stirrups and showed them what a randy, shameless little bitch
you really are.
DN: I...um...um...think we'd better change the...um...subject.
Captain, I noticed an enema bag and a can of shaving cream
sitting next to the rubber gloves. What are those for?
BG: Guess. I'll bet you are a natural blonde, right, sweet cheeks?
DN: Don't tell me that you actually give the women enemas...and
shave them?
BG: See, blonde or not, I knew you could figure it out. But don't
get your cute little undies in a bundle. We only do it if the
woman gets sassy.
I'm sure that wouldn't be necessary with someone like you, Debbie.
Or would it? Would you strip when I said "strip" and kneel when I
said "kneel"? Would you spread your legs when I barked "SPREAD
'EM," even though a hundred men were watching and a dozen video
cameras were pointing between your legs?
Dignified young professional women don't appreciate how soothing
and relaxing an icy cold enema can be. Maybe it's the feeling of
the long, greasy tube sliding up their backsides...or the gush of
the freezing cold water. Personally I think it's the way the men
in the crowd laugh and snicker, watching how they cramp, and
wiggle, and pucker their little brownies as the icy water
relentlessly spurts into their defenseless backsides.
DN: I um...think I'd better get out of here.... I mean...I think
it's time that we wrapped up this interview, Captain.
BG: I agree, Debbie. I think you've asked enough questions.
I think it's time for you to experience the answers, my nosey
little friend.
DN: Um...well, actually...I really need to be getting back to the
studio. But I did have one last question. I noticed that all of
the women leaving the tent are wearing large name-tags with some
sort of alphanumeric notation on it. Could you explain what that
means, Captain?
BG: A picture is worth a thousand words, Debbie. Let me show you.
DN: That really isn't necessary, Captain. If you could just
EXPLAIN the tags....
BG: You'll notice the back of the sticker peels off, so it will
stick right to the front of your blazer. Here, let me stick this
on your jacket....
DN: Steve, if you can pull the camera in tight, the viewers at home
can see that the tag on my blazer says, "HI MY NAME IS..." with the
word "Debbie" written in. And below that are four letters written
with a red magic marker: "CNBC." What do the letters mean?
BG: That is your search code, Debbie. We'll use that to label the
crate you put your clothes in. It also identifies your video.
After we search a woman, we require her to stay at the festival for
at least an hour and mingle through the crowd with her search code
on display. This gives the men in the crowd the opportunity to
"preview the merchandise" and come back and purchase the video.
DN: But that's so...humiliating! It's like the scarlet letter.
Everyone who sees me would know that I'd been stripped naked.
They'd know that there was a-a...naked video of me FOR SALE...in
a carnival tent!
That's terrible! Why don't you just make me wear a t-shirt that
says, "I'm a WHORE: Naked Videos, FOR SALE, CHEAP!" It's so
degrading!
BG: It's not that bad. The young ladies endure quite a few sly
smiles, of course, and now and then a playful fanny pinch. I
suppose it is a tad humiliating to stand there, utterly helpless,
and watch some smiling idiot casually jot down the code on his
shopping list. It must be hard to look him in the eye, knowing
that in just a few minutes, he is going to see you frolicking
around in the buff.
The women in the crowd are far crueler than the men. You'd think
they'd have some compassion for their sisters, but I've seen them
spit on tagged women, and call them whores, and sleazes, and
bimbos. Some of the women have been so abusive that we've actually
had to arrest them.
Of course they usually view things a little differently when it's
THEIR turn to shuck down.
DN: Exactly how many women have you searched, Captain?
BG: Unh-uh, Debbie, we already agreed that you'd asked your last
question. Now it's my turn. I have a question for you.
Tell me, Debbie, are you a natural blonde?
DN: Um...I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at....
BG: It's a simple enough question, Debbie. Do you dye your hair?
I can see the hair on your head is blonde. But, are you blonde
all over?
DN: I fail to see the relevance of....
BG: Do you see the large black gentlemen standing by the stripping
area, Debbie? His name is Sergeant Leroy Jones. He used to be a
detective, at least until you did your little exposé on police
corruption.
When we're done chatting, Debbie, I'm going to turn you over to
him. He likes pretty white women, and blondes in particular.
So I'm wondering if you're a natural blonde.
DN: It's not the sort of thing a lady discusses....
BG: Are you blushing, Debbie? Don't be shy. You might be able to
keep your silly little secrets OUTSIDE the tent. But, once inside,
everything is revealed.
A lot of career women pretend they're prim and proper, but we find
out the truth when we get them into the stirrups. It's hard to act
elegant and aloof when two dozen men are staring at your hot,
sticky, juicy little honey pot.
So tell me, Debbie, is your honey pot all hot and bubbly? The way
you're blushing, I think it might be....
Is your little mound covered with soft yellow peach fuzz? Is your
furry patch hot and wet and sticky?
Don't lie to me, Debbie. If I think you're lying, I may decide to
check for myself.
DN: NO, CAPTAIN...PLEASE! I WON'T LIE! I AM a natural blonde.
Please, Captain, you've got to believe me!
BG: I don't know, Debbie. I think I need to check anyway. I'm
going to send your camera crew over to the sign-up table, so they
can get their rubber gloves. There are more than enough cameras
here to cover your search from EVERY angle, so the folks at home
won't miss a thing.
And, from the way your camera crew is looking at you, I think
they'll want to "lend a hand."
That reminds me...your producer asked me to make some extra tapes
for the gift shop down at the station. And he's also thinking
about setting up a Web site for downloading. Your video is going
to be very popular, Debbie.
DN: But...but...you can't search me! You can't strip me...NAKED!
I'm a celebrity!
BG: Ha-ha. Gee, Debbie, you really are a natural blonde after
all....
Edited by C. Lakewood