Chapter 4

A very desolate Carol Hargreaves sat in the Interview Room at the police station for the third time; she was very upset because the officers there had informed her that her children had been taken into care by the Local Authority who now considered that she was not a fit mother to them. She was dressed in her jeans and a blanket was draped over her shoulder both to keep her warm and to protect her modesty. A constable was trying to saw through the chain that was looped round her waist and between her legs using a rather ancient and blunt hacksaw. Sitting in his chair opposite was the same inspector that Carol had dealt with on her previous visit to this room only now he looked rather weary. "So, Miss Hargreaves, what happened this time?"

Carol started to tell her tale, beginning with herself tied to the lamppost and being approached by the gang of drunken youths. The inspector immediately stopped her by saying, "No, no. Let's go back a bit... just how did you come to get chained up and tied to a lamppost in the first place? Who did that to you, Miss Hargreaves?"

Carol looked at him almost pityingly. "You know I can't tell you that," she said as if explaining an obvious fact to a child. "I ended up like that because I talked to you last time. What do you think he'll do if I tell you more now?"

The inspector's face turned red but before he could erupt, his female sergeant entered the room. "That's alright, Miss Hargreaves," she said consolingly, "Just carry on from where the men approached you and tell us what happened. It's them who are the criminals here and it's them we want."

Carol told her tale... which took quite sometime. At the end of it, the constable was still attempting to saw through the chain and even after all this time, he'd only got about half way through. The sergeant stood and closed her note book. "I'll go and type this up," she said to the room in general before departing. The inspector, meanwhile, who was not as easily placated, continued to press Carol about who had tied her up in the first place.

Knowing that she couldn't possibly say, Carol insisted on keeping silent on the matter. But there was one other thing beginning to press on her mind. Nodding towards the constable kneeling at her side, she said to the inspector, "Can you please get him to hurry up? I'm bursting and I can't get my jeans off until he's finished!"

Interest suddenly showed in the inspector's eyes. "Jenkins," he said, "go and see if you can find a sharper blade. I'll keep going here."

"Yes, sir" said the constable as he stood up and left the room.

The inspector moved over to her side and took the other man's place. "Hurry up!" pleaded Carol, starting to jig up and down in her chair.

"Hold still!" the officer demanded. "How do you expect me to saw when you're moving like that?"

"And I suppose that when you're bursting to go, you can stay still?" Carol retorted.

"Well I'm sure that I wouldn't make this big a song and dance about it!"

"Just shut the fuck up and get on with it!" Carol pleaded desperately. The inspector sawed away but, from what Carol could see, with little effect. He moved round a little as if to relieve the pressure on his legs... and Carol now saw why for he was sporting a huge hard-on! Things clicked inside her mind and she recalled him looking at her when he'd interviewed her previously and to her it was clear that the man got off on scaring females! No wonder he was a copper. In a desperate attempt to keep her mind off the state of her bladder, Carol asked the inspector if there was anything he could do to help her with regard to having her children returned to her.

"Of course," he replied confidently. "The police are always consulted in matters like this. But whether I'd want to help is another matter altogether..."

"And what might I be able to do to elicit your aid?" asked Carol, as she firmly clamped a hand over her pussy in a last ditch desperate effort to hold back the tide.

"You could tell me who did this to you," the inspector replied pausing from his sawing to wipe some glistening sweat from his brow.

"You know I can't do that," the now frantic woman declared. "Oh, Christ!" she cried as she suddenly stood up and started pacing the room, her sudden and unexpected movement almost knocking the inspector to the floor. Carol now had both hands clamped over her groin and, with nothing to hold it in place, the blanket slowly slid off her shoulders.

The inspector's day was getting better and better as he eyed the woman's bare breasts. He had always enjoyed bullying people, women especially so and he'd had great fun with this Carol Hargreaves yesterday, especially when she had become so frightened that she'd leaked a little pee into her jeans. After that interview was over, he'd immediately gone to the gent's and wanked himself off. Now the same woman was about to piss herself big time in front of him while pleading for his help over her stupid kids. He watched Carol jigging about in a last ditch attempt to stave off the inevitable, her bare boobs bouncing about enticingly in sympathy.

"I don't suppose you'd care to at least leave the room or get me to a loo?" Carol asked the leering man whose hard on was now threatening to pop his zip.

"I can't leave you alone and only a female officer can take you to the toilet."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Carol asked as she closed her eyes and groaned briefly.

"Well, since nobody's here, I can admit it... yes, I am."

"Okay... well, let's make a deal. It's clear you want to watch me piss my pants... so I'll let you and not make a complaint. I'll even jerk you off... if you promise to write a favourable report to the Social for me..."

Inspector Smythe pondered this one. The woman was going to wet herself in a matter of moments no matter what was agreed or not agreed... but a hand job from her as a bonus? And he could promise whatever she wanted... he didn't have to deliver for she'd never find out what was in his report anyway. "Alright... but you'd best be quick before someone comes in."

Carol flashed the man a wan smile and then stood still, her eyes closed. For a long moment nothing seemed to happen then, with an audible sigh of pleasure, Carol opened the flood gates and her warm urine flowed out, instantly soaking her jeans and staining her crotch and inner thighs a far darker blue than the rest of the material. The stain spread out wider and tumbled down the denim, eventually hitting the floor and forming a puddle there before soaking into the fabric of the carpet, leaving a large stain behind. The pee kept coming for several long moments and the Inspector began to realise just how much distress the woman must have been under. At last Carol was finished and she drew herself back up to her full height and closed her knees, the relief that she felt being tempered by the not unnatural embarrassment that anyone would feel in her situation but she received no sympathy from the Inspector who merely moved closer to her and told her to get on with it.

Encased in wringing wet jeans that were already starting to cool, Carol lowered herself to her knees and began to undo the man's fly while he smiled and thought how good this was and how much he'd best enjoy it for his wife would never even consider such an action - stuck up moralistic cow that she was! 'Oh, yes!' he thought as his already stiff cock hit the fresh air and the woman gently clasped her hands over it and began to ease back and forth. He looked down, passed her breasts, to those pee soaked jeans and realised that he wasn't going to last long, not living out one of his favourite fantasies like this. Indeed, the woman only needed to stroke him a few more times before he groaned loudly, muttered an 'Oh, God!' and shot his load all over the witness's chest. Suddenly realising the trouble he could be in were he to be found like this, the inspector began to think rapidly and to thrust his organ back into his pants. "Get yourself cleaned up, Carol," he instructed her, not ungently.

"With what?" she protested.

"Oh, damn," he muttered under his breath as he handed over his handkerchief... just as the door started to open. With no time to clean herself up, Carol frantically grabbed at the blanket where it lay on the floor before flinging it around her shoulders.

Constable Jenkins entered the room and took one look at the state of Carols pants before realising that he was too late. He muttered an apology and, screwing up his nose, bent down to return to his sawing.

Carol was finally freed and driven home to her strangely empty apartment in a police car. After stripping off, she ran herself a bath and gratefully clambered into it. Her world had fallen apart and she wasn't at all sure what to do about it... but one thing stood out very clearly to her and that was that she needed to get her kids back. So, that Inspector Smythe was going to write a report and that would be a help but she knew well that little people like her didn't fair too well against large organisations like the Local Council unless they had some form of help or back up... like a Solicitor, for example. But solicitors cost money, lots of it... and that was yet another thing that Carol didn't have... and she also wondered just exactly how much would be needed...