Part 1

She could hear Vicky Hagan calling her. Yelling at her to come back. But she was going to get him. She was going to catch him and arrest him and teach the black bastard not to give her finger. Roz Clarke was small for a police officer, young only twenty-two, with short brown hair and lovely green eyes. Most men called her cute, which she hated with a vengeance. A vengeance that drove her further away from her mentor and deeper into the housing estate.

Crossing a set of garages she saw the youth disappear around a corner. Swearing she turned the corner and he was gone. A biting wind cut into her weatherproof jacket. She wore her jumper underneath with her short-sleeved blouse; she’d mislaid the long sleeved one. Thank God for trousers, she thought as she looked around and saw a door leading to a stairway. She ran to it.

WPC Roz Clarke almost ran into the boys as she came through the door.

“Has anyone come through this way?” she asked gasping for breath.

A tall black lad stood on the stairs looking down at her.

“No,” he said.

Roz nodded and went to go up the stairs but the boy barred her way.

“Let me past,” she said sternly.

“Don’t you believe me?” he asked stepping in her way whenever she went to pass him.

The other boys, two black, one white moved closer to her. She was trapped on all sides.

Shaking WPC Clarke took out her baton but as soon as it came from her belt the tall black youth snatched it off of her.

“Give me that back!” she shouted her voice catching nervously.

“Say please.” The boy grinned.

The boys were all about sixteen but tall, they moved in on the small policewoman. Roz felt her eyes start to water, she was going to cry, she couldn’t cry. Her bottom lip quivered and she said, “Give it to me!” as loud as she could.

“Say,” the boy leant forward, “please.”

The uniformed policewoman felt her way blocked at the back by two boys. She looked at the floor, he face bright red, her cheeks flushed. Tell tale tears appeared in her eyes, “P..” she whispered.

“What?”

“Please,” she nearly sobbed.

“I can’t hear you police cuntstable.”

“P…please,” a tear trickled down her cheek.

The tall black youth laughed, she looked so pathetic, like a girl in a woman’s uniform. She looked so small and pathetic.

“You want this back?” the boy waved her baton in her face.

“Yes. Please.”

The boy pressed the end of the baton against her full red lips, “Suck it.”

“I don’t understand,” she looked confused.

“Open your pretty cop lips and show us how you suck cock.”

“Why?”

They all laughed that time.

“Because,” the boy shoved the baton hard against her lips, “we wanna see if you’re any good at cock sucking officer 235!”

Roz remembered the radio on her left breast, if she could call Vicky. Why did she leave Vicky?

“Do you want me to ram it in?” The boy continued, “it’ll hurt your tight little pink throat if I have to do that.”

WPC Clarke’s hand came up her radio. She managed to say, “Seria Oscar 2…” before they were all on her. Two boys grabbed her arms while the other gripped her helmet and she felt them push the baton between her lips. Her legs kicked out but they managed to dodge them as the black youth started fucking the baton in and out of her luscious red lips. Saliva already started to fill her mouth as the hard object invaded her oral cavity while the white youth held her head in place.

“Suck it!” the black boy yelled ramming the baton in and out of the young policewoman’s reluctant mouth.

She felt it ram over her tongue towards her throat and she started to panic. Struggling even harder she suddenly felt and fist slam hard in-between her legs. The boys all cunt punched her. Four fists smacking into her crutch making the tears flow freely and her legs give way.

WPC Roz Clarke was now on the floor. The baton still lodged in her mouth. One boy now sitting on top of her frail body while two held her legs and the guy who’d held her head grabbed her wrists. He helmet smacked on the concrete, she couldn’t move her head as the boy started leaning on the baton driving the thick hard weapon further into her mouth.

“Look at that!” the white boy laughed, “he’s gonna ram it down her fucking throat. How does it feel copper? You should see yourself. You just can’t take it can you!”

Roz started gagging, her eyes bulging. The black youth pulled the baton out. It was covered in spit and saliva poured out of the WPC’s lips as she coughed and spluttered.

“Let me go!” she managed to say her voice filled with pain.

“Kiss my cock and we’ll let you go,” the black youth smiled.

“Fuck off.” WPC Roz said even though she was crying.

“I wonder,” the boy looked at the baton, “what this would look like up your cunt.”

Roz looked around her and took in the situation. She couldn’t fight. There were too many of them. Four young lads. Maybe he would let her go if she kissed his dick. The thought made her want to puke.

“You’re choice,” the boy smiled.

“Okay,” Roz sniffed, “I’ll kiss your dick but no more punching me in the…” she trailed off.

“It’s you’re cunt, cuntstable.” One the boys said.

“No more hitting me in the vagina.”

This made them laugh louder than before.

The boys pulled WPC Clarke on to her knees in front of the black youth. He was busy undoing his jeans. Her beautiful young face was level with his crutch as he yanked the jeans down to show his white underpants, which contrasted against his chocolate brown skin. Under the cloth her brown eyes focused on the bulge.

“I call him the snake,” the boy giggled, “give him a peck before I get him out of his cage.”

The boys all watched and waited. Roz looked up at the black youth through the brim of her police helmet, her eyes defiant, but she slowly moved towards his bulge, pursed her lips and gave the snake a quick kiss before jerking back in disgust. The smell of his cock was having a strange effect on the probationary policewoman, it half disgusted her and half excited her.

“Bit more of a smooch 235. Like your kissing your boyfriend, you got a boyfriend?” the black lad brought his hand around the back of her head and held her neck with some of her soft short brown hair, “now kiss him like you love him.”

Tears were still in her eyes as she leant forward again. Her lips touched the bulge in the cloth, her eyes screwed up tight, the stench of his sex invading her nostrils as she planted a long hard kiss on the coiled up pulsating prick. She nervously opened her eyes and saw some of her lipstick white pants.

“Nice lipstick,” one of gang laughed.

“Now, take him out 235 and say hello.”

Roz’s hands came up to the boy’s waistband but he yelled, “No! No hands bitch! Use your teeth!”

Roz looked up at him through her police helmet with pleading eyes. He just stared down at her grinning. She moved a bit closer. One of the boys held her hands behind her back, which made it a little awkward as, her mouth came up to the waistband. The stench of his cock was becoming almost unbearable as she took the elastic top in her teeth with her small quivering mouth.

WPC Clarke slowly pulled her head down as she did the youth’s thick black cock sprang out slapping her in the face and on her helmet. She let out a squeal and let the waistband go. The cock was held up by the boy’s pants directly in front of her. Roz’s nose less than an inch from the shaft and the uncircumcised tip resting on the silver metropolitan police badge on her police hat.

“Pull them all the way down 235.”

WPC Roz Clarke was still crying as her mouth moved under the base of the black boys cock, taking the waistband between her teeth again she pulled them down to the boy’s thighs.

“Good little copper,” the black youth held her cheeks together, pressing them hard so her lips pursed, “we’re gonna find somewhere a bit more comfortable and we’re gonna prove to you cuntstable 235 that four into one will go.”

To Be Continued