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Old 04-29-2016, 12:01 AM
jjaygee58 jjaygee58 is offline
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Default The Hacker and the Sheriff

The next chapter in my Hacker saga. Enjoy everyone! Let me know what you think.




The Hacker and the Sheriff, Part 1

Texas, fucking Texas, the Hacker muttered to himself. This so-called “law and order” state was so sanctimonious. Officials always talked about the “criminals” on the loose, but it was the cops who arrested whomever they wanted, often just to prove who was in charge or to take bribes, kickbacks, and graft. Little people, people with no social standing—working people, immigrants, and so on—didn’t have a chance in that state. Corruption was rife in Texas, but one person more than anyone embodied the problem.

Cassandra Johnson, Cass as she was known, was the sheriff of the wealthiest county in the state. If you needed to break a labor union, shake down an immigrant neighborhood, or enforce zoning laws a little too rigorously on small businesses, Cass was the woman for the job. She used her power to do the bidding of wealthy businessmen while building up a financial empire that gave her a comfortable life and generated millions for the network. Her hypocrisy as much as her corruption infuriated the Hacker.

He knew how she lined her own pockets at the expense of the community she was supposed to serve. That she relished dominating all the “little people” in the county, the people that didn’t count. That she used the deputies on the force, often against their will, to do her bidding. That no ordinary people were safe as long as Cass kept her power. This, the Hacker, knew had to change, and he had a plan to make it happen.



The Hacker and the Sheriff, Part 2

Cass wasn’t so much beautiful as what the old-timers call handsome. Dark auburn hair, just long enough to pull back into a ponytail, high cheekbones, and a pretty but serious face. Cass favored just a little makeup, some foundation and lipstick to remind everyone she was female, but the aviator sunglasses and dark brown sheriff’s uniform dampened any femininity. At 5 ft 8 in. and with a modest 36B measurement up top, Cass looked, acted, and moved like an athlete.

Every morning she got up, humming to herself, excited to take on the day. The stupid people in this town never failed to give her the opportunity to lord her power over them. And she loved them for it.

Cass also loved her uniform. It gave her a sense of power every time she put it on, and the Lone Star State insignia helped remind everyone that they better fall in line. At the same time, she didn’t want to be too masculine. So Cass had the top tailored to fit snugly around her perky breasts, the pants too were fitted to show off her curves. Underneath she wore a plain sports bra to support her smallish chest. Nothing sexy there, she’d think. She also wore black nylon knee-high trouser socks. They were silky and just sheer enough to be feminine without being obvious. They felt ever so slightly naughty, given her profession where most women were quite . . . manly. But not too girly. If she took off her work shoes—something she never did, that was unprofessional and deflated her power—people would have just been able to make out her bright red toenail polish through the nylon.

Other than the toenail polish, Cass’s major concession to being a woman was her panties. She always wore pink. Sometimes bright, sometimes pale, sometimes cotton, sometimes nylon or even satin, sometimes bikini, cheeky, or every once in a great while thong. But always pink. Cass in general thought the silkier and stretchier, the better. She loved to slip her masculine sheriff’s pants down and see herself standing there in just her pink panties and knee highs.

Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly naughty, Cass would go in the locker room at the sheriff’s station, unbuckle her belt, and unbutton her pants. She’d wait until the room cleared as her underlings came and went, often getting a glare from the boss. Then she’d let her pants fall to her ankles. Cass would look at herself in the full-length mirror, standing there in her chunky work shoes with her trousers puddled around her ankles, silky black nylon knee highs and pink panties on display. Oh, this would be so humiliating if someone walked in on me like this!, she’d think to herself. The powerful sheriff, standing here stripped to her dainty underwear. Such thoughts invariably aroused her, and sometimes she’d rub her silky pantied ass with one hand while dipping the other into the front for just a second. Mmmmm . . . she’d sigh as she thought about getting off. The mixture of power, a hidden secret, exposure, humiliation . . . it could be intoxicating.

But Cass knew enough to keep this her secret. She could have these little secrets about exposure and humiliation to keep her batteries charged, her juices flowing. But she could never afford to be caught this way, not if she was going to maintain her power and keep funneling money to the network.



The Hacker and the Sheriff, Part 3

It was Cass’s secrets—her illegal activities _and_ her personal desires—that made the messages signed by the Hacker so unnerving. She tried to ignore them at first, but they became more and more specific, more and more personal.

“This is your first warning. I know you take money from those who can’t afford it. Resign now, turn yourself in, and take your punishment before the law. Or take what you have coming to you.” The Hacker

“This is your second warning. I know what you did to those small business owners. I know you took protection money and still let their buildings burn. Resign now, turn yourself in, and take your punishment. Or take what you have coming to you.” The Hacker

“This is your third and final warning. You’re robbing poor communities and funneling the money to Stephanie Roth and the network. I have the bank account and transfer fund numbers. Resign now, turn yourself in, and take your punishment. Or take what you have coming to you. I grow impatient and will not tell you again.” The Hacker

My God, Sheriff Johnson thought to herself, Stephanie Roth was supposed to have taken care of this guy! But she sure as hell hasn’t! Now I have to do what he says or go to jail with all those cons I’ve locked up over the years. Sonofab*tch!

“Look,” Cass wrote in response to the Hacker’s third email, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t expose me. I’ve got money if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“I don’t want your money,” the Hacker replied, “but you’re right when you say you’ll do whatever I want. I have taken direct access to channel 34 of your radio. Leave it there when you answer a call this Friday morning. Do everything I say. Oh, and wear those bright pink silk bikini panties. The ones that say BOSS in black letters across the back. I like those. And leave your bra at home. You can wear the black nylons though.”

Cass was dumbstruck by such a detailed note, about a call on Friday, her radio, and especially her undergarments. She didn’t like the sound of any of it. “OK,” she wrote with resignation, “I’ll do what you say. But how do you know about my panties??”

“It’s not that hard to hack into the cameras in your locker room,” the Hacker replied. “You really shouldn’t put yourself on display. Unless that’s what you want. . .”

Cass’s heart sank. This guy knew everything. Friday was shaping up to be a really bad day.



The Hacker and the Sheriff, Part 4

Cassandra got ready for work Friday morning with a sense of trepidation, even foreboding, in the pit of her stomach. Who the hell was this Hacker guy, and why did he want to take it upon himself to torment her and the other members of the network? She had no answer, and none of it really mattered, she thought, as she pulled her pink silk panties up her smooth thighs. They did feel delicious, luxurious, she mused, and they were stretchy enough that they hugged her firm ass just right. Next came the nylons. Maybe not the sexiest, but the light shadow pattern of flowers definitely made them feminine. Cass paused to look at herself in the mirror, and the sight of the panties and nylons, coupled with her nerves about what was to come later in the day, aroused her to the point of slipping a hand in her panties. But Cass forced herself to stop after a brief massage. She couldn’t be late.

The rough polyester fabric of her uniform shirt felt especially strange. The pants and work shoes were fine, Cass thought as she drove to work. But she always wore a bra, except today. So the fabric rubbing against her nipples was distracting both because it constantly reminded her that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and because it kept her in a low state of arousal. She desperately wanted to put on her usual sports bra, to give her breasts more protection, but knew she better listen to the Hacker’s directions for how she was to dress. But, God!, her nipples were starting to drive her crazy.

Lost in her thoughts, bordering on daydreams, it took a second for Sheriff Johnson to realize her police radio was calling her. “Cassandra. Cassandra, come in. You’re trying my patience,” said the Hacker. “I’m here,” Cassandra snapped. “Good girl,” the Hacker responded patronizingly. “Here’s what I need you to do. Turn left on Route 55 and go about a mile until you see the cars pulled over to the side of the road. Keep this radio on you at all times, and do exactly what I say.”

“OK. . .” Cassandra replied hesitantly.

When Cassandra arrived at the cars on the side of the road, her stomach sank. What’s this Hacker guy going to do to me?, she wondered. There must have been nearly one hundred people standing by a cluster of cars, and Channel 5 (The News Leader!) had a camera crew on the scene. Cass was sure she recognized a number of the people gathered on the side of the road—immigration activists, community organizers, pain-in-the-ass small business owners. All people she had harassed over the years. What were they all doing here?!

Cassandra parked her car in the middle of several patrol cars and got out. All the deputies on the scene were members of her staff that she couldn’t stand. They didn’t follow her orders, at least not well enough, or had questioned her dictatorial powers. Several of them seemed to smirk at her as she pulled up.



The Hacker and the Sheriff, part 5

The radio came on with a crackle. “Good, glad you could join us,” said the Hacker. He must be somewhere in the crowd, Cass thought to herself, as she adjusted her mirrored aviator sunglasses and trooper’s hat. “Before you get out of the car, I need you to fix your clothes for me. . .” Cassandra listened to the Hacker’s instructions with mounting dread. When he was finished, she could only muster a stammering reply. “You, you can’t be serious. You can’t do that to me. I’ll be humiliated!” “You really don’t have a choice, my dear,” the Hacker responded with equal parts seriousness and amusement.

Sheriff Johnson took a moment to adjust herself as ordered and then stepped out of the car. The deputies were the first to notice as Cassandra walked up to them. Standing on the shoulder of the dirty road, they looked down and saw their boss walking up to a crime scene in her stocking feet. Black nylons with a flower pattern. Bright red toenail polish gleaming through the silky fabric. Cass felt the pebbles on the roadway and grimaced a bit as she took mincing steps. She certainly didn’t look or feel like a powerful woman in charge, someone used to striding into a group of people and taking control.

Tracking upwards, for the first time in their lives the deputies saw their sheriff with her top three buttons unbuttoned on her uniform shirt. The fifth button also appeared to be undone. If Sheriff Johnson bent over or arched her back her modest, yet firm, breasts would very likely be on display.

And then there were the pants. They were clearly unbuttoned and her zipper was halfway down. With each step it seemed there was the slightest flash of pink. And without a belt or a button the zipper didn’t look like it would hold for very long.

It took a minute, but everyone in the crowd saw the same thing, and a murmur quickly swept through the throng. A few whistles and laughs mixed in with the low talking. From the neck up Cassandra looked like her old self: aviator sunglasses, sheriff’s hat, impeccable if understated makeup. But from the neck down, it looked like she was coming apart at the seams. And the News Leader! was capturing it all.

Cassandra walked over to the deputies who were openly smirking at their boss. “Knock it off,” she hissed. “I’m not sure what’s happening here, but I have to wrap this up in a hurry and get the hell back in my car!” “Yes, ma’am,” they said, trying to pull themselves together while giving each other knowing looks. Meanwhile, they all kept an eye on Cass’s zipper. Each step, each movement, seemed to pull it down by another tooth. There was no doubt their boss was wearing pink silk panties.

As Cassandra stood there, talking to her deputies, a young woman came out of the crowd. Speaking in a mix of Spanish and English, she tugged at Sheriff Johnson’s sleeve and started asking her if she needed help. Cass wasn’t entirely sure, but it sounded like the woman said, “You know, like the kind of help you’ve given us all these years.” Cass whirled to face the woman. “Do not touch me!” she barked. Her zipper fell two more teeth. Her pants fell lower on her hips.

Face to face with the first woman, Cass felt a tug at her other sleeve. Another voice, this one a middle-aged man, asked if she was OK. “Maybe you need protection like you gave my business?” he said earnestly. Cass whipped back again. “Goddammit! Let me go!!” she shouted. The zipper fell three more teeth and now it was too late. Cass’s pants couldn’t take it any longer. They dropped straight to her ankles, leaving her standing in a very public street, in front of one hundred people and her deputies, wearing nothing but pink panties and black nylons! The proud, powerful sheriff. . .




The Hacker and the Sheriff, part 6

It took a second for what had happened to register with Cass. As people pointed and laughed, she looked down and her eyes grew large and her mouth pulled into a tight “o”. “No!,” she shrieked. “What’s happened?!!? Noooooo!!”

“Happened? Nothing yet,” the young woman on the sheriff’s right wrist said. Signaling to the man who still had Cassandra’s left shirt cuff, in concert they yanked forward. Cass, too mortified by losing her pants to protect hereself, stumbled forward, bending at the waist to keep her balance. Her stocking feet didn’t give her much stability. The sheriff’s tight ass came fully into view and the word BOSS was obvious for everyone to see. A woman ran out of the crowd and spanked Cassandra on her exposed rear as hard as she could. “Yow!!” the sheriff yelled, the force of the blow making her fall forward.

The two people holding her shirt cuffs helpfully yanked back to try to keep Cassandra from falling. Unfortunately for the sheriff, her momentum nonetheless took her to her knees. The force was too much and the last two buttons on her shirt could not hold. There was a ripping sound of threads giving way, and Cass was suddenly on all fours, no shirt to be seen, her beautiful boobs hanging down. Somehow the hat and aviator glasses stayed put on a woman who now had on nothing but pink BOSS panties, black floral print nylons, and sheriff’s pants around her ankles.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Sheriff Johnson screamed as the laughter grew to a deafening level in her ears. “What have you done to me?!!? I’m the sheriff of this town!! You can’t do this to me! NOOOOOOO!!!!” Cass scrambled to her feet and tried to run, but forgot her pants were around her ankles. The unforgiving polyester garment tripped the sheriff, sending her sprawling in the dirt in front of everyone. The laughter only grew louder.

Cass wanted to curl up and die, but she still had too much dignity left. She kicked her feet and with the silky nylons on, was able to slip the pants off her ankles. Now down to just her panties and hose, Cass ran as fast as she could past the crowd and over to her squad car. She grabbed at the door and to her horror realized it was locked and her keys were in her pants pocket. Pants that had inexplicably disappeared. “OH MY GOD! NOOO!” she wailed. Cass desperately wanted to cover herself, to shield her pink panties, to hide her boobs, from the people she had humiliated for so long. “What am I going to do?” she moaned.

In the midst of her despair, the radio crackled. She had forgotten she even had it in her hand. The Hacker’s voice came through to her. Salvation! Maybe. Anything had to be better than this, Cassandra thought. “I think the News Leader! is getting all this,” the Hacker said. Cassandra’s eyes grew wide. She had forgotten about the news camera! She scanned the crowd and found the camera. The camera man, his identity shielded by a ball cap and sunglasses, gave her a thumbs up and then spoke into a radio. “If you want this to end,” the Hacker said, “run to the other side of the squad car and crouch down there. Do exactly what I tell you to when you get there.”

Looking at the state of her dress and the throng assembled around her, Cass knew she had no choice. “OK,” she said quickly and desperately. A sudden roar of three more news vans arriving distracted the crowd, and Cassandra made a break for it, scrambling around to the other side of her car where she could hide, at least for a second, from all those people who wanted to humiliate her.

“That’s a good girl,” said the Hacker. “Now here’s what you’re going to do next.”



The Hacker and the Sheriff, part 7

Cass heard the Hacker’s directions, but could not believe them. She wasn’t even sure what he ordered her to do was possible. “I know exposure and humiliation gets you excited,” he had said, “and we’re going to see just how excited. First, you’re going to. . .” Cass heard the rest, but it felt like a blur. “Do it!” was all she heard at the end.

Crouching behind her squad car, stripped to panties and nylons, Cassandra slipped her hand into her panties. “No way is this going to work,” she muttered to herself. In these circumstances, there was no way she would get aroused. And yet. . . something started to stir in her belly as she lightly stroked herself. “Oh my God,” she moaned. “I can’t believe this is working.” With her right hand in her panties, Cass tweaked her nipples with her left hand. “Oooohh,” she moaned.

“Keep rubbing,” the Hacker said over the radio. Clearly he could still see her. Cass was startled, but didn’t protest. “Does it feel good?” the Hacker asked. “Yessss” she moaned. “Good, now take the next step,” the Hacker ordered. “I don’t know if I can,” Cass whimpered into the radio. Her protests failed to hide her heavy breathing. “Do it,” the Hacker ordered. “OK. . .” was all the sheriff could say.

Cass put her hands through the waistband of her panties at both hips. The silky material stretched easily. Working her arms lower, Cass hooked the waistband around her elbows. The silky material of her panties slid tight, giving her a terrific wedgie front and back. “Oh my God,” Cass whispered. Already on edge from the exposure, the humiliation, and the stroking, Cass’s silky panties pulling up against her most sensitive spot felt exhilarating.

“Keep going,” the Hacker urged. Cass didn’t even verbalize a response. She pulled hard on the waistband and slipped both sides up over her shoulders! The panties stretched to the breaking point, but did not give. Every slight motion made the garment slide against her intimate place. The proud sheriff was edging ever closer to an orgasm.

“Oh God,” Cass moaned. “Do you want to cum?” asked the Hacker. “No,” Cass replied, without conviction. “Are you sure?” “No, I’m not,” Cass said meekly. “Then get on your knees and crawl along behind your car.” “I, I can’t do that,” Cass said. “The rubbing will be too much I’ll, I’ll. . .” “Do it,” was all the Hacker said.

Cass whimpered and dropped to all fours, her breasts hanging down, her sexy ass on display. For a fleeting moment she thought to herself, How did I get to this place? How did this happen to me? How am I, the proud sheriff, crawling in the dirt like a common prostitute? How. . .? But then the thoughts were gone. Each crawling shuffle caused the panties to shift. Cass bit her lip, trying to hold back the mounting, shattering orgasm.

With total willpower, Cass crawled along behind her car. Nothing could distract her, nothing could bend the iron will that was the only thing preventing Sheriff Johnson from having an incredible, and incredibly public, orgasm. Nothing, not even the sound of a car starting.

“I . . . will . . . not . . . cum,” Cass was saying to herself. Her eyes closed tight behind her sunglasses, sweat building on her brow under the sheriff’s hat, Cass was on the edge.

“Sheriff Johnson,” the radio crackled. “What?!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Look to your left. . .” Cass looked left and stopped crawling. Just stopped. She couldn’t believe it. Her squad car was gone! Here she was crawling along on her hands and knees in the dirt, wearing nothing of her uniform but hat and sunglasses, sweating and practically begging not to have an orgasm. Her sexy, cheeky pink BOSS panties were pulled up over her shoulders like lewd suspenders, putting her almost totally on display, with the material as tight as possible in all her most intimate places. Her boobs were hanging down for the world to see. Over one hundred people, looked, pointed, and laughed uproariously. All the cameras were on her. “Oh noooooo,” Cass moaned to herself.

“Eeeekk!!!” was all the proud sheriff could say out loud. She leapt to her feet and put her left arm across her breasts to try to shield herself at least a bit. Caught like a deer in the headlights, Cass stood there for just a minute. Then she knew what she had to do. She had to run! The silky nylons didn’t help her get much traction. Worse, each step caused the panties to shift. She had to run. No, she had to stroke. She had to . . .

“I . . . will . . . not . . .” But it was just too much. The humiliation, the exposure, the incessant rubbing . . . “OOOOOOOHHHHH!!!” Cass just couldn’t take it any longer. The orgasm caused her to slump to her knees by the street. Falling face first in the dirt, proud Sheriff Johnson’s hat and sunglasses finally fell off. She was now completely exposed. The panties were still there though. And they were maddening.

“OK, Cass,” the radio came on, “I’m done with you. For now.” Cass whimpered and got to her feet. Everybody gawked and laughed. With nothing left to do now, Cassandra pulled her ruined panties off her shoulders, removed the thong they had become and kicked the stretched out garment into the weeds. Wearing nothing but black, flowery nylons, Cassandra ran down the road as fast as she could go.

“Well, that was quite a show,” one man laughed as he talked to the News Leader! “It certainly was!” huffed a well-dressed, haughty woman. “What an absolute hussy! This state isn’t what it used to be, with people like that. I mean, what kind of woman lets herself get exposed, and then have an obvious, um, you know?” She blushed, unable to say the word. “Real women in my network would never let this happen. Never.” With that she turned on her expensive heels and stalked toward her Mercedes.

“Network, huh?” the Hacker murmured to himself as he took down the woman’s license plate number. “You seem like someone worth checking out. . .”
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Old 04-06-2017, 05:40 PM
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Originally Posted by jjaygee58 View Post
The next chapter in my Hacker saga. Enjoy everyone! Let me know what you think.




The Hacker and the Sheriff, Part 1

Texas, fucking Texas, the Hacker muttered to himself. This so-called “law and order” state was so sanctimonious. Officials always talked about the “criminals” on the loose, but it was the cops who arrested whomever they wanted, often just to prove who was in charge or to take bribes, kickbacks, and graft. Little people, people with no social standing—working people, immigrants, and so on—didn’t have a chance in that state. Corruption was rife in Texas, but one person more than anyone embodied the problem.

Cassandra Johnson, Cass as she was known, was the sheriff of the wealthiest county in the state. If you needed to break a labor union, shake down an immigrant neighborhood, or enforce zoning laws a little too rigorously on small businesses, Cass was the woman for the job. She used her power to do the bidding of wealthy businessmen while building up a financial empire that gave her a comfortable life and generated millions for the network. Her hypocrisy as much as her corruption infuriated the Hacker.

He knew how she lined her own pockets at the expense of the community she was supposed to serve. That she relished dominating all the “little people” in the county, the people that didn’t count. That she used the deputies on the force, often against their will, to do her bidding. That no ordinary people were safe as long as Cass kept her power. This, the Hacker, knew had to change, and he had a plan to make it happen.



The Hacker and the Sheriff, Part 2

Cass wasn’t so much beautiful as what the old-timers call handsome. Dark auburn hair, just long enough to pull back into a ponytail, high cheekbones, and a pretty but serious face. Cass favored just a little makeup, some foundation and lipstick to remind everyone she was female, but the aviator sunglasses and dark brown sheriff’s uniform dampened any femininity. At 5 ft 8 in. and with a modest 36B measurement up top, Cass looked, acted, and moved like an athlete.

Every morning she got up, humming to herself, excited to take on the day. The stupid people in this town never failed to give her the opportunity to lord her power over them. And she loved them for it.

Cass also loved her uniform. It gave her a sense of power every time she put it on, and the Lone Star State insignia helped remind everyone that they better fall in line. At the same time, she didn’t want to be too masculine. So Cass had the top tailored to fit snugly around her perky breasts, the pants too were fitted to show off her curves. Underneath she wore a plain sports bra to support her smallish chest. Nothing sexy there, she’d think. She also wore black nylon knee-high trouser socks. They were silky and just sheer enough to be feminine without being obvious. They felt ever so slightly naughty, given her profession where most women were quite . . . manly. But not too girly. If she took off her work shoes—something she never did, that was unprofessional and deflated her power—people would have just been able to make out her bright red toenail polish through the nylon.

Other than the toenail polish, Cass’s major concession to being a woman was her panties. She always wore pink. Sometimes bright, sometimes pale, sometimes cotton, sometimes nylon or even satin, sometimes bikini, cheeky, or every once in a great while thong. But always pink. Cass in general thought the silkier and stretchier, the better. She loved to slip her masculine sheriff’s pants down and see herself standing there in just her pink panties and knee highs.

Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly naughty, Cass would go in the locker room at the sheriff’s station, unbuckle her belt, and unbutton her pants. She’d wait until the room cleared as her underlings came and went, often getting a glare from the boss. Then she’d let her pants fall to her ankles. Cass would look at herself in the full-length mirror, standing there in her chunky work shoes with her trousers puddled around her ankles, silky black nylon knee highs and pink panties on display. Oh, this would be so humiliating if someone walked in on me like this!, she’d think to herself. The powerful sheriff, standing here stripped to her dainty underwear. Such thoughts invariably aroused her, and sometimes she’d rub her silky pantied ass with one hand while dipping the other into the front for just a second. Mmmmm . . . she’d sigh as she thought about getting off. The mixture of power, a hidden secret, exposure, humiliation . . . it could be intoxicating.

But Cass knew enough to keep this her secret. She could have these little secrets about exposure and humiliation to keep her batteries charged, her juices flowing. But she could never afford to be caught this way, not if she was going to maintain her power and keep funneling money to the network.



The Hacker and the Sheriff, Part 3

It was Cass’s secrets—her illegal activities _and_ her personal desires—that made the messages signed by the Hacker so unnerving. She tried to ignore them at first, but they became more and more specific, more and more personal.

“This is your first warning. I know you take money from those who can’t afford it. Resign now, turn yourself in, and take your punishment before the law. Or take what you have coming to you.” The Hacker

“This is your second warning. I know what you did to those small business owners. I know you took protection money and still let their buildings burn. Resign now, turn yourself in, and take your punishment. Or take what you have coming to you.” The Hacker

“This is your third and final warning. You’re robbing poor communities and funneling the money to Stephanie Roth and the network. I have the bank account and transfer fund numbers. Resign now, turn yourself in, and take your punishment. Or take what you have coming to you. I grow impatient and will not tell you again.” The Hacker

My God, Sheriff Johnson thought to herself, Stephanie Roth was supposed to have taken care of this guy! But she sure as hell hasn’t! Now I have to do what he says or go to jail with all those cons I’ve locked up over the years. Sonofab*tch!

“Look,” Cass wrote in response to the Hacker’s third email, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t expose me. I’ve got money if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“I don’t want your money,” the Hacker replied, “but you’re right when you say you’ll do whatever I want. I have taken direct access to channel 34 of your radio. Leave it there when you answer a call this Friday morning. Do everything I say. Oh, and wear those bright pink silk bikini panties. The ones that say BOSS in black letters across the back. I like those. And leave your bra at home. You can wear the black nylons though.”

Cass was dumbstruck by such a detailed note, about a call on Friday, her radio, and especially her undergarments. She didn’t like the sound of any of it. “OK,” she wrote with resignation, “I’ll do what you say. But how do you know about my panties??”

“It’s not that hard to hack into the cameras in your locker room,” the Hacker replied. “You really shouldn’t put yourself on display. Unless that’s what you want. . .”

Cass’s heart sank. This guy knew everything. Friday was shaping up to be a really bad day.



The Hacker and the Sheriff, Part 4

Cassandra got ready for work Friday morning with a sense of trepidation, even foreboding, in the pit of her stomach. Who the hell was this Hacker guy, and why did he want to take it upon himself to torment her and the other members of the network? She had no answer, and none of it really mattered, she thought, as she pulled her pink silk panties up her smooth thighs. They did feel delicious, luxurious, she mused, and they were stretchy enough that they hugged her firm ass just right. Next came the nylons. Maybe not the sexiest, but the light shadow pattern of flowers definitely made them feminine. Cass paused to look at herself in the mirror, and the sight of the panties and nylons, coupled with her nerves about what was to come later in the day, aroused her to the point of slipping a hand in her panties. But Cass forced herself to stop after a brief massage. She couldn’t be late.

The rough polyester fabric of her uniform shirt felt especially strange. The pants and work shoes were fine, Cass thought as she drove to work. But she always wore a bra, except today. So the fabric rubbing against her nipples was distracting both because it constantly reminded her that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and because it kept her in a low state of arousal. She desperately wanted to put on her usual sports bra, to give her breasts more protection, but knew she better listen to the Hacker’s directions for how she was to dress. But, God!, her nipples were starting to drive her crazy.

Lost in her thoughts, bordering on daydreams, it took a second for Sheriff Johnson to realize her police radio was calling her. “Cassandra. Cassandra, come in. You’re trying my patience,” said the Hacker. “I’m here,” Cassandra snapped. “Good girl,” the Hacker responded patronizingly. “Here’s what I need you to do. Turn left on Route 55 and go about a mile until you see the cars pulled over to the side of the road. Keep this radio on you at all times, and do exactly what I say.”

“OK. . .” Cassandra replied hesitantly.

When Cassandra arrived at the cars on the side of the road, her stomach sank. What’s this Hacker guy going to do to me?, she wondered. There must have been nearly one hundred people standing by a cluster of cars, and Channel 5 (The News Leader!) had a camera crew on the scene. Cass was sure she recognized a number of the people gathered on the side of the road—immigration activists, community organizers, pain-in-the-ass small business owners. All people she had harassed over the years. What were they all doing here?!

Cassandra parked her car in the middle of several patrol cars and got out. All the deputies on the scene were members of her staff that she couldn’t stand. They didn’t follow her orders, at least not well enough, or had questioned her dictatorial powers. Several of them seemed to smirk at her as she pulled up.



The Hacker and the Sheriff, part 5

The radio came on with a crackle. “Good, glad you could join us,” said the Hacker. He must be somewhere in the crowd, Cass thought to herself, as she adjusted her mirrored aviator sunglasses and trooper’s hat. “Before you get out of the car, I need you to fix your clothes for me. . .” Cassandra listened to the Hacker’s instructions with mounting dread. When he was finished, she could only muster a stammering reply. “You, you can’t be serious. You can’t do that to me. I’ll be humiliated!” “You really don’t have a choice, my dear,” the Hacker responded with equal parts seriousness and amusement.

Sheriff Johnson took a moment to adjust herself as ordered and then stepped out of the car. The deputies were the first to notice as Cassandra walked up to them. Standing on the shoulder of the dirty road, they looked down and saw their boss walking up to a crime scene in her stocking feet. Black nylons with a flower pattern. Bright red toenail polish gleaming through the silky fabric. Cass felt the pebbles on the roadway and grimaced a bit as she took mincing steps. She certainly didn’t look or feel like a powerful woman in charge, someone used to striding into a group of people and taking control.

Tracking upwards, for the first time in their lives the deputies saw their sheriff with her top three buttons unbuttoned on her uniform shirt. The fifth button also appeared to be undone. If Sheriff Johnson bent over or arched her back her modest, yet firm, breasts would very likely be on display.

And then there were the pants. They were clearly unbuttoned and her zipper was halfway down. With each step it seemed there was the slightest flash of pink. And without a belt or a button the zipper didn’t look like it would hold for very long.

It took a minute, but everyone in the crowd saw the same thing, and a murmur quickly swept through the throng. A few whistles and laughs mixed in with the low talking. From the neck up Cassandra looked like her old self: aviator sunglasses, sheriff’s hat, impeccable if understated makeup. But from the neck down, it looked like she was coming apart at the seams. And the News Leader! was capturing it all.

Cassandra walked over to the deputies who were openly smirking at their boss. “Knock it off,” she hissed. “I’m not sure what’s happening here, but I have to wrap this up in a hurry and get the hell back in my car!” “Yes, ma’am,” they said, trying to pull themselves together while giving each other knowing looks. Meanwhile, they all kept an eye on Cass’s zipper. Each step, each movement, seemed to pull it down by another tooth. There was no doubt their boss was wearing pink silk panties.

As Cassandra stood there, talking to her deputies, a young woman came out of the crowd. Speaking in a mix of Spanish and English, she tugged at Sheriff Johnson’s sleeve and started asking her if she needed help. Cass wasn’t entirely sure, but it sounded like the woman said, “You know, like the kind of help you’ve given us all these years.” Cass whirled to face the woman. “Do not touch me!” she barked. Her zipper fell two more teeth. Her pants fell lower on her hips.

Face to face with the first woman, Cass felt a tug at her other sleeve. Another voice, this one a middle-aged man, asked if she was OK. “Maybe you need protection like you gave my business?” he said earnestly. Cass whipped back again. “Goddammit! Let me go!!” she shouted. The zipper fell three more teeth and now it was too late. Cass’s pants couldn’t take it any longer. They dropped straight to her ankles, leaving her standing in a very public street, in front of one hundred people and her deputies, wearing nothing but pink panties and black nylons! The proud, powerful sheriff. . .




The Hacker and the Sheriff, part 6

It took a second for what had happened to register with Cass. As people pointed and laughed, she looked down and her eyes grew large and her mouth pulled into a tight “o”. “No!,” she shrieked. “What’s happened?!!? Noooooo!!”

“Happened? Nothing yet,” the young woman on the sheriff’s right wrist said. Signaling to the man who still had Cassandra’s left shirt cuff, in concert they yanked forward. Cass, too mortified by losing her pants to protect hereself, stumbled forward, bending at the waist to keep her balance. Her stocking feet didn’t give her much stability. The sheriff’s tight ass came fully into view and the word BOSS was obvious for everyone to see. A woman ran out of the crowd and spanked Cassandra on her exposed rear as hard as she could. “Yow!!” the sheriff yelled, the force of the blow making her fall forward.

The two people holding her shirt cuffs helpfully yanked back to try to keep Cassandra from falling. Unfortunately for the sheriff, her momentum nonetheless took her to her knees. The force was too much and the last two buttons on her shirt could not hold. There was a ripping sound of threads giving way, and Cass was suddenly on all fours, no shirt to be seen, her beautiful boobs hanging down. Somehow the hat and aviator glasses stayed put on a woman who now had on nothing but pink BOSS panties, black floral print nylons, and sheriff’s pants around her ankles.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Sheriff Johnson screamed as the laughter grew to a deafening level in her ears. “What have you done to me?!!? I’m the sheriff of this town!! You can’t do this to me! NOOOOOOO!!!!” Cass scrambled to her feet and tried to run, but forgot her pants were around her ankles. The unforgiving polyester garment tripped the sheriff, sending her sprawling in the dirt in front of everyone. The laughter only grew louder.

Cass wanted to curl up and die, but she still had too much dignity left. She kicked her feet and with the silky nylons on, was able to slip the pants off her ankles. Now down to just her panties and hose, Cass ran as fast as she could past the crowd and over to her squad car. She grabbed at the door and to her horror realized it was locked and her keys were in her pants pocket. Pants that had inexplicably disappeared. “OH MY GOD! NOOO!” she wailed. Cass desperately wanted to cover herself, to shield her pink panties, to hide her boobs, from the people she had humiliated for so long. “What am I going to do?” she moaned.

In the midst of her despair, the radio crackled. She had forgotten she even had it in her hand. The Hacker’s voice came through to her. Salvation! Maybe. Anything had to be better than this, Cassandra thought. “I think the News Leader! is getting all this,” the Hacker said. Cassandra’s eyes grew wide. She had forgotten about the news camera! She scanned the crowd and found the camera. The camera man, his identity shielded by a ball cap and sunglasses, gave her a thumbs up and then spoke into a radio. “If you want this to end,” the Hacker said, “run to the other side of the squad car and crouch down there. Do exactly what I tell you to when you get there.”

Looking at the state of her dress and the throng assembled around her, Cass knew she had no choice. “OK,” she said quickly and desperately. A sudden roar of three more news vans arriving distracted the crowd, and Cassandra made a break for it, scrambling around to the other side of her car where she could hide, at least for a second, from all those people who wanted to humiliate her.

“That’s a good girl,” said the Hacker. “Now here’s what you’re going to do next.”



The Hacker and the Sheriff, part 7

Cass heard the Hacker’s directions, but could not believe them. She wasn’t even sure what he ordered her to do was possible. “I know exposure and humiliation gets you excited,” he had said, “and we’re going to see just how excited. First, you’re going to. . .” Cass heard the rest, but it felt like a blur. “Do it!” was all she heard at the end.

Crouching behind her squad car, stripped to panties and nylons, Cassandra slipped her hand into her panties. “No way is this going to work,” she muttered to herself. In these circumstances, there was no way she would get aroused. And yet. . . something started to stir in her belly as she lightly stroked herself. “Oh my God,” she moaned. “I can’t believe this is working.” With her right hand in her panties, Cass tweaked her nipples with her left hand. “Oooohh,” she moaned.

“Keep rubbing,” the Hacker said over the radio. Clearly he could still see her. Cass was startled, but didn’t protest. “Does it feel good?” the Hacker asked. “Yessss” she moaned. “Good, now take the next step,” the Hacker ordered. “I don’t know if I can,” Cass whimpered into the radio. Her protests failed to hide her heavy breathing. “Do it,” the Hacker ordered. “OK. . .” was all the sheriff could say.

Cass put her hands through the waistband of her panties at both hips. The silky material stretched easily. Working her arms lower, Cass hooked the waistband around her elbows. The silky material of her panties slid tight, giving her a terrific wedgie front and back. “Oh my God,” Cass whispered. Already on edge from the exposure, the humiliation, and the stroking, Cass’s silky panties pulling up against her most sensitive spot felt exhilarating.

“Keep going,” the Hacker urged. Cass didn’t even verbalize a response. She pulled hard on the waistband and slipped both sides up over her shoulders! The panties stretched to the breaking point, but did not give. Every slight motion made the garment slide against her intimate place. The proud sheriff was edging ever closer to an orgasm.

“Oh God,” Cass moaned. “Do you want to cum?” asked the Hacker. “No,” Cass replied, without conviction. “Are you sure?” “No, I’m not,” Cass said meekly. “Then get on your knees and crawl along behind your car.” “I, I can’t do that,” Cass said. “The rubbing will be too much I’ll, I’ll. . .” “Do it,” was all the Hacker said.

Cass whimpered and dropped to all fours, her breasts hanging down, her sexy ass on display. For a fleeting moment she thought to herself, How did I get to this place? How did this happen to me? How am I, the proud sheriff, crawling in the dirt like a common prostitute? How. . .? But then the thoughts were gone. Each crawling shuffle caused the panties to shift. Cass bit her lip, trying to hold back the mounting, shattering orgasm.

With total willpower, Cass crawled along behind her car. Nothing could distract her, nothing could bend the iron will that was the only thing preventing Sheriff Johnson from having an incredible, and incredibly public, orgasm. Nothing, not even the sound of a car starting.

“I . . . will . . . not . . . cum,” Cass was saying to herself. Her eyes closed tight behind her sunglasses, sweat building on her brow under the sheriff’s hat, Cass was on the edge.

“Sheriff Johnson,” the radio crackled. “What?!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Look to your left. . .” Cass looked left and stopped crawling. Just stopped. She couldn’t believe it. Her squad car was gone! Here she was crawling along on her hands and knees in the dirt, wearing nothing of her uniform but hat and sunglasses, sweating and practically begging not to have an orgasm. Her sexy, cheeky pink BOSS panties were pulled up over her shoulders like lewd suspenders, putting her almost totally on display, with the material as tight as possible in all her most intimate places. Her boobs were hanging down for the world to see. Over one hundred people, looked, pointed, and laughed uproariously. All the cameras were on her. “Oh noooooo,” Cass moaned to herself.

“Eeeekk!!!” was all the proud sheriff could say out loud. She leapt to her feet and put her left arm across her breasts to try to shield herself at least a bit. Caught like a deer in the headlights, Cass stood there for just a minute. Then she knew what she had to do. She had to run! The silky nylons didn’t help her get much traction. Worse, each step caused the panties to shift. She had to run. No, she had to stroke. She had to . . .

“I . . . will . . . not . . .” But it was just too much. The humiliation, the exposure, the incessant rubbing . . . “OOOOOOOHHHHH!!!” Cass just couldn’t take it any longer. The orgasm caused her to slump to her knees by the street. Falling face first in the dirt, proud Sheriff Johnson’s hat and sunglasses finally fell off. She was now completely exposed. The panties were still there though. And they were maddening.

“OK, Cass,” the radio came on, “I’m done with you. For now.” Cass whimpered and got to her feet. Everybody gawked and laughed. With nothing left to do now, Cassandra pulled her ruined panties off her shoulders, removed the thong they had become and kicked the stretched out garment into the weeds. Wearing nothing but black, flowery nylons, Cassandra ran down the road as fast as she could go.

“Well, that was quite a show,” one man laughed as he talked to the News Leader! “It certainly was!” huffed a well-dressed, haughty woman. “What an absolute hussy! This state isn’t what it used to be, with people like that. I mean, what kind of woman lets herself get exposed, and then have an obvious, um, you know?” She blushed, unable to say the word. “Real women in my network would never let this happen. Never.” With that she turned on her expensive heels and stalked toward her Mercedes.

“Network, huh?” the Hacker murmured to himself as he took down the woman’s license plate number. “You seem like someone worth checking out. . .”
Fun story looking forward to next part.
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Old 04-08-2017, 02:19 PM
booboobooboo booboobooboo is offline
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Hey buddy how about not quoting the whole story again just to say you liked it
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