"And now for our guest of dishonor, the Ass of Crown Point!"
Applause greeted Lillian Holley as they wheeled it out. And it, in this case, meant her ass. They wheeled her ass out with the rest of her inconveniently attached. Confined to a box, she only saw the crowd with mirrors they placed her next to the speaker. Lined up a microphone with her crack. Went through all the same motions they would for any other real guest. Just. For her ass.
If she could face the room, Lillian would show them a face just as red as her cheeks. A day's worth of spankings left them flush and aching even under the light breeze of nearby fans. Laughter briefly made one set of cheeks darker than the other. When it died down, the speaker chimed in.
"For those of you who have been living under a rock this past week, this right here is the proud sheriff that not only let Dillinger escape, but put on a show for him while he did it. What do you have to say for yourself, Mrs. Holley?"
Silence. Then a few chuckles as editors started to get the joke. Attention returned to the speaker while Holley stewed in her outrage. She spotted a camera in the back. An actual movie camera, not mere photos. Were they immortalizing this disgrace on film?!
"Looks like she's not much of a talker. Maybe the questions are too hard. Let's keep it simple for a simple woman."
Something thick and hard soon lodged in her ass. At this point, the soreness of these repeat invasions had congealed, but she saw its purpose through her mirror. Its attached cloth hung loosely, ready to serve its purpose.
"What did you do when Dillinger escaped?"
With a steady wag, the white flag waved in the air, announcing her clear intention to surrender. Its fabric slid against her sensitive skin each time she went back the other direction, drawing out more anguish. Lacking any signal to stop, she kept at it until the speaker grabbed the flag and yanked it out. But, he quickly replaced it with something else. It shamed her to even recognize it, but she knew exactly what it was and what to do with it when she felt its firm springiness inside her.
It was a prop gun. It had the clear dimensions, from a big long base for its handle to the trigger poking her pussy. If they put her at ground level, it would have pointed downward, but her elevated position had her ass aiming that thing into the crowd. She had just enough time to really get a feel for the fake grip before they carried on.
"You must have felt really threatened if he got you to give up like that. How did he do it?"
She squeezed hard. Even with its flexible parts, it took all the power in her anus for Lillian to set it off. Quietly, a rod shot out from the barrel, unfurling a flag with the word 'BANG!' written on both sides. She held it there, drinking in a deafening barrage of chuckles. The passing of time only made it worse, every second of her like this further driving the point home. Relief washed over her when the speaker finally removed that prop gun. It didn't last long.
"Wait. You're telling me you let Dillinger get away because of a TOY? I guess we know what that makes you."
Confusion set in for the ex-sheriff as something cold and wet pressed around her tail bone. It took her a moment to catch on to those loops and strokes, but once she did, she started reading by touch. That was a C. Followed by an R. Then an O. She caught its pattern before he finished the fourth letter. Her thoughts drifted off to other things as the work went on. How was she going to show her face around town when she got back home? How would her twin daughters treat her after getting to know the shape of their mom's ass, and what it looked like when she used it for these humiliating political stunts.
When her mind returned to the here and now, she had lost the plot. E... S... T...
"And there you have it! Crown Point's Finest! It'll be the perfect tattoo for the best sheriff Lake County has to offer. Be sure to watch her get it done out front before you leave tonight."
Just when she thought her night couldn't get any worse, they found a way. It didn't matter that she would never see it. It was the idea. Even if she moved away and changed her name, that tramp stamp would linger broad as daylight above her ass alongside the sheriff's badge design the speaker had scribbled over those words.
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gun moll pt 1, ass of crown point pt 1
Lillian Holley, Ass of Crown Point, pt 2
"And now for our guest of dishonor, the Ass of Crown Point!"
Applause greeted Lillian Holley as they wheeled it out. And it, in this case, meant her ass. They wheeled her ass out with the rest of her inconveniently attached. Confined to a box, she only saw the crowd with mirrors they placed her next to the speaker. Lined up a microphone with her crack. Went through all the same motions they would for any other real guest. Just. For her ass.
If she could face the room, Lillian would show them a face just as red as her cheeks. A day's worth of spankings left them flush and aching even under the light breeze of nearby fans. Laughter briefly made one set of cheeks darker than the other. When it died down, the speaker chimed in.
"For those of you who have been living under a rock this past week, this right here is the proud sheriff that not only let Dillinger escape, but put on a show for him while he did it. What do you have to say for yourself, Mrs. Holley?"
Silence. Then a few chuckles as editors started to get the joke. Attention returned to the speaker while Holley stewed in her outrage. She spotted a camera in the back. An actual movie camera, not mere photos. Were they immortalizing this disgrace on film?!
"Looks like she's not much of a talker. Maybe the questions are too hard. Let's keep it simple for a simple woman."
Something thick and hard soon lodged in her ass. At this point, the soreness of these repeat invasions had congealed, but she saw its purpose through her mirror. Its attached cloth hung loosely, ready to serve its purpose.
"What did you do when Dillinger escaped?"
With a steady wag, the white flag waved in the air, announcing her clear intention to surrender. Its fabric slid against her sensitive skin each time she went back the other direction, drawing out more anguish. Lacking any signal to stop, she kept at it until the speaker grabbed the flag and yanked it out. But, he quickly replaced it with something else. It shamed her to even recognize it, but she knew exactly what it was and what to do with it when she felt its firm springiness inside her.
It was a prop gun. It had the clear dimensions, from a big long base for its handle to the trigger poking her pussy. If they put her at ground level, it would have pointed downward, but her elevated position had her ass aiming that thing into the crowd. She had just enough time to really get a feel for the fake grip before they carried on.
"You must have felt really threatened if he got you to give up like that. How did he do it?"
She squeezed hard. Even with its flexible parts, it took all the power in her anus for Lillian to set it off. Quietly, a rod shot out from the barrel, unfurling a flag with the word 'BANG!' written on both sides. She held it there, drinking in a deafening barrage of chuckles. The passing of time only made it worse, every second of her like this further driving the point home. Relief washed over her when the speaker finally removed that prop gun. It didn't last long.
"Wait. You're telling me you let Dillinger get away because of a TOY? I guess we know what that makes you."
Confusion set in for the ex-sheriff as something cold and wet pressed around her tail bone. It took her a moment to catch on to those loops and strokes, but once she did, she started reading by touch. That was a C. Followed by an R. Then an O. She caught its pattern before he finished the fourth letter. Her thoughts drifted off to other things as the work went on. How was she going to show her face around town when she got back home? How would her twin daughters treat her after getting to know the shape of their mom's ass, and what it looked like when she used it for these humiliating political stunts.
When her mind returned to the here and now, she had lost the plot. E... S... T...
"And there you have it! Crown Point's Finest! It'll be the perfect tattoo for the best sheriff Lake County has to offer. Be sure to watch her get it done out front before you leave tonight."
Just when she thought her night couldn't get any worse, they found a way. It didn't matter that she would never see it. It was the idea. Even if she moved away and changed her name, that tramp stamp would linger broad as daylight above her ass alongside the sheriff's badge design the speaker had scribbled over those words.