Officer Down Ch. 02

Six months had passed since Abby's last tumble from the slut wagon. For three of those months she'd sworn off drink and for all six she'd sworn off men. The fallout from the shameful night spent at the house-party had been huge.

While standing in only a thong, Abby had begged some high, cackling youths for the use of a mobile phone. A difficult call had been made to a close friend and a pick-up arranged. An achingly sober Abby had loathed exposing herself in such a wretchedly pathetic state to her friend, but she'd been left with little choice.

Work was another matter entirely. Not only had she missed a shift due to her out-of-control revelry, but Abby had also lost her Police ID along with everything else. She'd initially called in sick, but then returned to work and reported the loss of her ID. Suspicions were aroused upon hearing the high flying young Detective's deceitful explanation. Carelessly leaving a handbag on the London Underground seemed so unlike the ordinarily sharp Abby Lockhart.

In a series of meetings her alcohol consumption was questioned and so was her overall state of mind. The loss of the Police ID resulted in only a minor disciplinary, but from that point on, Abby was well aware that her team were keeping a close eye on her. She worked diligently to stay balanced in herself and appear balanced to her colleagues.

She'd been on her best behavior for so long...

When she did start drinking again, it was in moderation and only in the company of trusted friends. Even respectable dating had been put on the backburner while Abby sought to suppress the inner submissive slut who shaped her fantasies. But with no sober outlet for Abby's more sordid pre-occupations, it was only a matter of time before those suppressed lusts clawed their way to the surface. Despite the impact that her coke fueled humiliation at the house-party had on her self-esteem as a strong independent woman and on her professional life, when she played with herself late at night Abby's mind still flitted back to those exquisitely shameful memories of drunken degradation.

Her next humiliating fall from the wagon occurred during what had been intended as a 'quiet night out'. In retrospect, it had to happen eventually, but Abby's big mistake was to venture out on another 'work night'. The accumulation of stress from leading her team in a tricky drugs investigation and not being fucked in months reached boiling point during the night out with friends.

Following much encouragement from the other women who all thought Abby needed to get out more, she'd allowed her friends to give her something of a make-over. The off-duty Detective wore a short black leather jacket over a sleeveless long black slightly sheer blouse. A pair of boot cut black jeans partially obscured her pointed stiletto high-heeled boots. Only the sharp tips and tall heels were visible as the jeans served to make her legs look extra long She carried an expensive little Jimmy Choo handbag that was worth more than any other article of clothing she wore. A treat paid for by a work bonus.

The girls had encouraged her to get the long black glossy hair extensions that were held aloft in a splendid ponytail at the back of her head. A swooping black fringe neatly descended to just above her dark, heavy eyebrows. In a move completely out of character for Abby, she'd allowed her pals to experiment on her with a little fake tan. Once they'd given assurances that Abby would be able to rinse it off in the shower at the end of the night, the tan had been slathered on all of her exposed areas. Face, neck, shoulders, arms and her chest were rendered garishly orange brown in stark contrast to her naturally pale white skin.

A few overpriced cocktails in central London led to a good few more in a trendy east London club. Abby's trio of friends had all started strong, but as midnight came and went, only the Police Detective and her friend Collette (a chubby twenty-four year old Emergency Call Operator) were still going strong. Maybe a little too strong...

Before even leaving the bar and downing her fourth cocktail, Abby knew that her 'quiet night out' was destined to escalate. But with drugs off the menu and the already inebriated Abby somewhat resolved to not end up sucking cocks on dirty bathroom floors, the partying continued.

After Abby and her friend became acquainted with a pair of very charming French men, things spiraled even further out of control. The party moved onto a very sordid south east London squat. At the French men's invitation, Abby and Collette had been taxied to a rundown industrial area with barely any street lights and 'TO LET' signs everywhere. It was pretty grim and Abby was certain that they were entering what looked like a red light district. Given the end result of her last wild night out, Abby was suddenly apprehensive, but the liquor in her system and the Frenchman's warm hand upon her denim clad thigh in the cab was enough to help Abby ignore any lingering concerns.

Housed in a derelict warehouse located in the dilapidated industrial district, the presumed abode of one or both of the French men was just the kind of place that Abby would raid as part of her day job. More an unsanctioned party space than a home, the warehouse contained myriad groups and individuals engaged in no doubt illicit activities while repetitive beats were ever present in the background.

Those who 'lived' there had obviously tried to rearrange the space into something close to livable. An upstairs subsection had been separated into a lounge, industrial kitchen and a series of little box bedrooms with lots of rubbish strewn dead space in-between.

Abby couldn't help but regret her decision upon setting foot inside. It was Collette who had eagerly encouraged a reluctant Abby to go along to the dodgy squat, but the inebriated Police Officer didn't protest for long.

"Go on! Live a little!" Collette had excitedly urged. Of course the whole idea was ridiculous. Abby needed to have been home and in bed at least an hour prior to Collette's suggestion that they accompany the men to a party. But with an escalating thirst for liquor and a tingling between her legs with regards to the Frenchman who had showed her so much attention, Abby quickly caved.

Leaving with Collette and the men was another in a long line of broken promises. She'd promised herself a couple of cocktails before switching to soft drinks. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't smoke. She'd promised herself that she'd head home no later than midnight in order to get up for work in the morning. And of course she'd promised herself that there was going to be no men!

Unfortunately, Abby had little memory of these broken promises as she swigged from a bottle of red wine, puffed on a cigarette and flirted with a strange man at gone two a.m in a rundown warehouse squat located at almost the opposite side of London to where she lived.

The two handsome French guys had seemed so much more classy when they'd descended upon Abby and Collette in the darkly lit club. The pair of bearded rogues were charming, attractive, funny and wore painfully skinny jeans that more than showed off their manly attributes. Collette was smitten and Abby foolishly tempted. The man who'd immediately gravitated towards Abby introduced himself as Laurent and from the taxi onwards, his hands were never far from the off-duty Police Officer.

Upon entering, Abby wasn't quite inebriated enough to not feel out of place in the squat. Unable to entirely shrug of her sense of authority, she felt so 'straight' and 'normal' in the presence of the various whacked-out druggies, punks and grimacing raver girls. Abby clutched the Jimmy Choo handbag like her life depended on it, as she become convinced that every eye in the room was fixed upon her.

The two French lothario's led their snared ladies to a slightly more secluded corner of the squat, away from the abrasive noise being spewed out by a sound system down below. Red wine was quickly procured for Abby, who fooled herself into thinking that she no choice but to sup on her drink and loosen up.

Abby was more than wise to Laurent shooting her a lecherously predatory glance when he didn't think she was looking. Despite his efforts to pretend otherwise, Laurent was no gentleman and it was precisely this that attracted her to him.

Abby may have drunkenly engineered her own sexual humiliation and degradation on various past occasions, particularly at the house party, but she'd also found that such submissive appetites could usually be satisfied by the likes of Laurent. Toxic men intent on taking advantage of a drunken slut. It was a game that Abby had played effortlessly throughout her sexual life and a definite obstacle in finding a man whose company she could endure when sober. Still, Abby was more than aware of how potentially dangerous and self-destructive the 'game' was, but finding herself in a compromising situation was precisely what got her off...until she woke up the next morning of course.

Such scenarios certainly required her to be less pro-active in her own debasement, but it was still an aspect of her personality that she loathed. A dark part of Abby Lockhart that only emerged when she'd had way too much to drink...

Of course, she never confessed to being a Police Officer in such situations and Laurent had lavished unconvincing praise on her when Abby had lied and said she was a school teacher. His friend Freddie was no doubt likely to get laid, as Collette hadn't taken her hands off of him since the club. Abby may as well have been invisible once they reached the squat. The pair sat on an ugly torn couch and gnawed at each other, while Laurent plied his own prospect with booze and compliments. He continued to work hard work on cracking the woman he truly regarded as a 'stuck-up bitch'.

Reluctant to answer the question of "Do you actually live here?" from Abby, Laurent maneuvered her over to a glass coffee table alongside the torn couch and began to fire up a dirty looking bong. He also tossed Abby a bottle of vodka. Collette momentarily disengaged from Freddie and shared a daunted expression with Abby.

Before venturing out that night, the self-destructive Detective hadn't even bothered to promise herself that she wouldn't take any drugs, because it wasn't even a conceivable prospect! And before seeing her beau with the bong, Abby had still clung to the notion that her night didn't need to get any messier than it already was. The embarrassing slut within hadn't entirely slipped off the leash. Abby at least paused for thought. Before being faced with the prospect of getting high, she'd still had options...or so she told herself. Yet the goal posts were forever changing with each additional drink.

It had started much earlier in the evening...Maybe she'd have one more drink and get a cab home...On her own or with Collette...She'd feel terrible in the morning, but she'd still make it to work...Maybe she would swap saliva with the sexy Frenchman... Maybe she wouldgive him a suck in a dark corner, fully clothed of course...Maybe she wouldparty for as long as she could, rush home for a shower and a change of clothes and still make it to work.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe...

Once she'd taken a seat alongside Laurent and taken a deep hit on the bong, Abby's world of maybes turned into a shadowy world of likely certainties. None of which involved any thought of making it to work in the morning. A small, sober part of the professional woman screamed as the newly emerged slut began to take control. Time slipped away with every additional hit and each shot of vodka poured by the grinning man on the couch. Her behavior changed. Flirtation turned to hellcat heat.

Laurent knew he was in there. The weed had well and truly unlocked her. She was moderately pretty, with decent sized tits and an average body. But 'average' was the word that most accurately summed up the chubby cheeked woman for Laurent. He was used to better. She seemed so unlikely to give it up early on. Acted as though she was humoring him for the sake of her friend. That only made him want the arrogant woman's ass all the more. His cock throbbed at the prospect. A little more weed, a little more vodka, and then he'd have her...

It was just before dawn when the party wound down slightly. People began to disappear and only the presumed residents remained. Abby was drunk, high and insanely horny. Laurent had already stuck his tongue down her throat and she made no move to disengage his hand from her hot black denim clad crotch. Nevertheless, the inebriated Detective still mentally patted herself on the back for keeping her kit on in public. Despite morphing from a frigid bitch to an open-legged skank in Laurent's eyes, Abby was hardly throwing herself at him. She knew where things were headed, but was tacitly resolved to let him take her there.

Sluttily giggling and curled up against 'her man' on the ratty couch Abby cast a glance over those who still remained. Collette had truly taken leave of her senses and disappeared into the night with Freddie, leaving Abby with Laurent and a giggling gang of feral raver girls. They sneered at and mocked the 'classy bitch', but she was far too captivated by the Frenchman to pay any attention to the girls. Laurent kept inching up her black denim trouser legs to access her boot zips and get them off, but the sharp tipped boots stretched high up her legs and some part of the Detective was reluctant to lose her heels before the pair were alone

'Want another hit?' Laurent whispered, careful not to alert the others sat around the messy coffee table. He was done sharing with anybody not likely to fuck him.

"Uh-huh." She gazed at him, her mouth already assuming what looked like a pouty cocksucking 'O'. When she was in her cups there was little Abby enjoyed more than sucking cock. Something about bowing down and taking a dirty dick in her normally stern mouth was irresistible to the submissive slut uncaged by inebriation. The French sleazebag almost exploded as he pictured her on the end his cock. The time was right.

He gave her a wink and picked up the bong, before leading Abby from the 'lounge' and into one of the nearby bedrooms. It was a dingy hole with dirty laundry strewn either side of a soiled mattress. Chicken wire covered the little window that afforded an ugly view of the dead estate. Dawn was on the way, but this leant little illumination to the sty of a room.

Abby was too far gone to even realise how fucked up it all appeared, i.e. her following him into a hovel for more drugs. Of course she wanted the cock, but another hit on the bong was certainly the catalyst for following him. A part of her knew that she was being seduced by a real trashcan of a man, but the sleazier the situation, the harder it was to even conceive of resisting. Of course, being high and drunk contributed in no small part to her overall state. Inhibitions long fled, the fucked-up Police Officer was almost proud of herself for holding out. Leaving her prized Jimmy Choo handbag on that filthy, ripped sofa was an eternal testament to just had fucked up she'd become.

Laurent lit a candle that provided little illumination. Just enough to see the goods stripped bare. She said nothing as she closed the door and pulled (what she believed to be) her super seductive pout. She just looked stoned and fucked-up to Laurent, but that was exactly how he liked them.

"Fire it up." He murmured and handed his soon to be conquest the bong. Abby nodded and sucked with that practiced cocksucker expression of hers.

"Undress."

There was a jarring pause. Laurent wondered whether everything would now fall apart or would he be forced to use another tactic? Undressing himself? A little more subtle seduction? More of his dwindling weed supply?!

"Sure Daddy."

Laurent laughed mirthlessly inside.

The leather jacket was peeled off and draped across a cardboard box near the door. Abby then giggled as she tried to sexily lower herself down on to the mattress, but instead sprawled out drunkenly.

"Booties?" She enquired in a sickeningly cutesy voice and lifted her left shiny, pointed, high-heeled boot up in the air.

Laurent was quick to wrench up her slightly flared trouser leg to just above her white knee. Thick baby blue nylon was visible peeking out of the top of the boot below her kneecap, as the French man wrenched down the zip on her knee high stiletto boot. He immediately did the same with her right boot and was thrilled at the sight of her thin juvenile light blue and white striped knee highs. The moist nylon socks had clearly been worn under the boots with comfort in mind and were the first hidden treasure for the perverted seducer. They stood in stark contrast to the lady Detective's sophisticated vamp exterior.

Abby then unfastened the button and zip on her jeans, which allowed Laurent to tug the black denim from her bare legs. Along with the boots, they were tossed over his shoulder into a dark corner of the room. Abby lay faux-demure in her long black sleeveless blouse and a clearly visible teeny-tiny pink G-string. Her right thin sock stretched to her knee, whilst the other idled around her shin. Deprived of boots and jeans, the long blouse looked like a cheap Babydoll. When standing-up fully dressed, the top stretched just barely south of her skinny butt cheeks. Sprawled on her back while spread-legged on a stained mattress, the long blouse provided zero coverage for the visibly wet crotch of her hard worked pink G-string.

She reached up her arms to embrace Laurent.

"No, no, no. The top first." An impatient grating edge impinged upon his dulcet tones and Laurent froze at the thought that he'd blown it. But if she'd noticed his gentlemanly mask slip, the conquest in slutty panties and schoolgirl socks certainly didn't show it.

Abby obediently struggled out of the top and tossed it behind her. Then she was onto her black bra, unleashing the big fake tanned titties and tossing the lingerie into Laurent's increasingly red face.

Laurent had to prevent himself from laughing. The pissed-up bitch's fake tan line had been cruelly exposed. There she was, orange brown down to just beneath her tits and snowy, pale white from there on down. With the actual blurred tan line stretched across the top of her belly, the jarring whiteness of her legs and loins was all the more pronounced. Laurent spitefully mused that it looked as if somebody had dipped the stripped down young profession into a pot of white emulsion. He laughed inside and knew he'd have to take an unflattering photo before the tryst was over.

Abby was clueless as to how he regarded her. She had no idea that she was being laughed at. In fact, the G-string clad Detective believed herself to be sexy beyond belief. As the Frenchman eased himself down to the busted-up mattress, Abby's bare body was hopelessly receptive to his every touch. The weed had more than aided in loosening her up. To her surprise and increased arousal, the man who descended upon her felt far removed from the charmer who had spent an evening wooing her. Gone was the careful, sensitive lover he'd talked himself up as. Laurent brutally pawed her inside and out. This sudden change in behavior wouldn't feel quite so weird until the morning after, but it wasn't like any 'love' she'd ever made before. Laurent was intent on using the socially undercover Copper as little more than a bunch of holes to fuck.

Abby's make-up was swiftly destroyed by his fat, probing, tongue. Mascara ran and so did her increasingly streaky tan, as Laurent's fingers eased in and out of her soaking wet pussy. The tiny G-string no obstacle, Laurent didn't even need to pull off the slutty knickers. Sitting on the mattress, the Frenchman maneuvered Abby onto her knees.