Police Dogs
Prologue
Central Tort Police Station, Tort
6th of March, 10:00 PM
"I don't know how it happened..." The cadaverous white tiger mumbled nervously, his paws shifting from one stance to another. His forepaws were clenched between his legs and he couldn't bare to meet the officer's eyes. He seemed visibly shaken, his ears had flattened down and his eyes had dilated beyond normal. He constantly scratched under the collar he wore, the bell on it jingled about and played a melody. At least they hadn't taken that from him.Riley knew that the officer wanted to rip out his throat, but he honestly didn't know a thing. "I was..." Riley's voice broke .He bit his lip to fight back his tears. "It was an accident! I don't know how it happened!" He burst like a pipe.
Riley put his forepaws onto his clothed knees and tightly gripped the trousers hanging from them; the police had provided the garments. Clearly, the law had no eye for fashion. For one, there were no bright colors; white, navy blue and black were the only colors present. Then there were the issues of: the size being too big for the white tiger, there were no patterns on them (not that Riley liked patterned clothes) and they were evidently work trousers; they had probably been stolen from an officer who was off duty. The shirt appeared to be from the lockers as well, judging from the name that was sewn onto the collar. 'Peter' it read; how generic, Riley thought. "I didn't mean for it to happen! I didn't know that it was happening!" He pleaded his case as tears came to his eyes.
"Bullshit! You fucking knew what was happening." The bilious doberman, who was sitting on the opposite of the interrogation table, barked as his black and brown face twisted into a snarl. There was an ugly pink scar stretching from his muzzle to his stop. He adjusted the collar of his shirt and puffed out his chest. "How do you not know?! Are you on something? Are you fucking high?" He questioned, leaning in and spitting onto Riley's face With each question Riley flinched away, he was both terrified and slightly disgusted;. the doberman's breath smelt disgusting, somewhere between off milk and dog shit. "Somefur get me a fucking breathalyzer!" The canine demanded into his radio, he dropped it back into his shirt pocket and continued his assault. "Answer me!" He shouted, slamming his forepaws down onto the table and spraying spittle onto Riley's nose. Riley didn't have the guts to wipe it off. "I'm not on anything." Riley promised, "Please believe that I didn't mean for this to happen!" Riley's cries caromed off of the walls of the chamber, adding to the tension between the feline and canine.
Forget 'good cop, bad cop,' the current method involved 'bad cop' and only 'bad cop.' He was hoping that the copper might try to use blarney to cajole Riley into making a confession or a statement, maybe he'd even lift his shirt slightly. However, so far the doberman seemed to have an iron will and a hatred for gay prostitutes. But at least Riley hadn't gotten stuck with some overweight, doughnut loving pig with icing around his mouth. Riley, fortunately, had been given the fit policeman who was way out of his league. If not for the shouting, the spitting and the overall intimidating atmosphere, Riley might have been blushing and being coy with the dog; he didn't have the courage to flirt openly. For now, Riley replaced the flirting with looking at the banal concrete walls and the blatant cracks that crawled over them, each one made Riley feel more and more at risk.
"Please let me go. I have things to do." Riley entreated, this was getting on his nerves. It was, what? Ten at night and Riley hadn't earned a penny to his name. He still needed to eat, cook for his Dads and iron his new work clothes; which consisted of lingerie and a thong. Showering wasn't an issue to be dealt with at home, the showers in the strip club worked so much better than what he had home. That and he wanted to look at some hunk's ass before he got thrown in the slammer for a few years. There were plenty of muscular males who worked at the club, all of them were perfectly okay with being worshiped by one of the twinks; A.K.A Riley.
"You gonna say anything, cat?" The vile doberman spat, "Or are just going to keep on grunting, tail raiser?" Something in Riley snapped when he heard the doberman berate."O.K!" Riley stressed the 'O.K' as he gritted his teeth. His tail lashed about violently behind him, right, left, right, left.... "Let me get this straight! I had no idea that it was my Dad and he didn't know that it was me under the gimp suit! We were both wearing one and we don't have any distinctive markings!"
"But if I saw my daughter's eyes, I'd know that they belonged to her in an instant!" The doberman leaned over the table and shouted down onto Riley, making the poor tiger flinch and put up his arm for protection. "Fucking look at me! He must have known, he must have heard your voice!" In any other similar case, that would have been a good argument, but not in Riley's.. "I was wearing a ball gag. I couldn't speak!" "What about your father?! Was he wearing one?" The officer questioned. "No he wasn't." Riley looked down at the tiles on the floor, anything other than the doberman's face was good. Riley was close to tears and he didn't want to start watering in front of the officer. He may have been a femboi, but even he had masculine pride that he wanted to keep. "So YOU should have recognized his voice!" "He put one on! It sounded deeper!"
"Fucking bullshit! Anymore lies and we'll just fine you or throw you in jail until you learn your lesson. That or we could call up that boyfriend of yours..." The doberman smirked and tapped the phone book that he had on the desk. "How do you know about him?" Riley whimpered, his ears flattened and his tail dropped. Once again he crimped into a small ball, tucking his legs up onto the chair and resting his chin on his knees. "We just do. Don't ask questions, you're here to answer all of ours truthfully. Are you going to do that now without disrespecting us?" "Yes." Riley nodded.
"Good. Moving on to the prostitution charges." The doberman coughed in a weird way (two coughing fits separated by one deep cough) as he sat back down in his chair, it creaked under his weight. Perhaps the cough was a coded way of saying 'Delete that recording' to the others who sat behind the one way glass. Riley knew all about police interrogation. He knew that there must have been three, maybe four, other cops sitting in the room to his right. They were all listening in, recording everything and observing him closely in order to gather the information they needed to throw Riley in the slammer for a good few years. 7 was the maximum sentence, assuming that the charges of incest were dropped or didn't stack.
"What do you want to know?" Riley asked, he'd already wasted enough of his night and he doubted that he'd be allowed to go back to work. "I want to know about your pimp. How much money does he take from every job? Don't be curt and don't dither..." The doberman, as if he'd had a mood swing or a switch, leaned forwards in a passive way. His nose came to meet his fingers.
"I think that we split it 50:50." Riley admitted, that was legal right? A fair split, so that no fur was cheated. The law had always chopped and changed when it came to prostitution, one year a 50:50 split was illegal and the next a 25:75: split to the prostitute was legal and the next anything more than 10% takes for the pimp became highly illegal.
"What do you mean by 'think', do you not know your own price?" The doberman sighed feeling as if he'd reached a dead end. "It varies, depending on what the customer wants and for how long they have me. That and everything is pre-paid, I never see the full amount of money." "How much do you normally get? On an average day?" "I don't know; this was supposed to be my first night. And since my current contract isn't finished, I'm not getting paid shit!" Riley snarled, "Thanks to you guys!" "Our pleasure. Just like it'll be a pleasure to punch in this number ending in 783." The doberman smiled. Once more Riley retreated, all threatening signs left his face and his teeth didn't dare to show. "Don't..." He mumbled. "Don't!" He said with increasing volume. "DON'T!" The doberman glared at him and Riley lowered his voice. "Please don't. I'm begging you. I'll do anything, just don't tell him..."
"Do you know how much the rest of your kind get?" The doberman asked now that he had Riley back under his influence. Riley dried h is eyes quickly. "Yes. About 50 per anal or vaginal, 25 for a blowjob and then times by every hour the customer pays for. Handjobs are 10 and then.... I think that fetishes used costs about 25 extra, but the prostitute can decline if they don't want to do it."
The doberman scribbled down some notes, had Riley made a bad move? "Right." Again the doberman coughed to clear his throat; it was starting to become annoying. "How many prostitutes are there who work for your pimp?" "I think that there's.... well... er... Fifteen including me. Yeah. That sounds about right. Most of the dancers double as prostitutes as well, but we have separate shifts, so that we never overlap. That is, until you cops start playing dirty!" Riley mentioned under his breath. The doberman caught it.
"Shut up cat. Otherwise we'll throw you in the holding cells for disrespecting the law. That'll teach you who the bosses are around here!" He grinned at the thought of throwing such a small, vulnerable and breakable feline into a cell full of drunkards and violent furs who would undoubtedly spend the night violating him for their own amusement. The dog doubted that Riley would last more than a minute before he'd be begging for his parents to come and get him.
"Why are you even asking me all of this?" Riley questioned, he slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms. "To give you a fair chance in court." The doberman lied, they were doing it to further their own case and 'purify the streets of Tort;' not that there would ever come a day when there wasn't blood on the street and a black market that was used more than the normal market. "If you were being fair, you'd let me speak for a minute." Riley suggested. "So can I?" "That comes at the end. For now you answer my questions truthfully. Then we'll think about letting you get a word in before you leave. Or, you can resist and end up with a night in the cells. You want that pussy boy?" Riley shook his head violently, prison or just about any jail cell terrified him.
The doberman mumbled something and looked up into the corner of the room. A bright, red light had flicked on. A sign. "Right..." Once more the dog cleared his throat. "I need to get going." He rose from his chair, walked around the table and as he went put a forepaw on Riley's shoulder. "Look kid. We're trying to do this for your own safety, Tort's streets are full of bad furs and we don't want somefur good like you getting hurt. We've seen your school records, you have a lot of potential and it would be a shame for somefur like you to be murdered." "I'll be fine."
"No you won't. There was a serial rapist and killer with you in the room earlier today, he often goes after prostitutes. Especially young, effeminate and vulnerable ones who are new to the game. You fall under all of those tags, so we thought that you'd be the next target. We don't know what his motives were, whether they were covetous or murderous." The doberman earnestly delineated. "Covetous?" Riley asked, the word didn't sound particular nice. "There's a chance that he was out to kidnap somefur, most likely you. I know that we didn't play nice, but we did it for your own good. Do us a favor and quit that job then if anyfur who looks dangerous comes knocking, use this." The police officer thrust a small can of pepper spray into Riley's forepaws. "It stings like hell, so don't overuse it otherwise we'll have to arrest you." The doberman patted Riley's shoulder. "Will you do that?"
"Yeah..." Riley pushed the can into his underwear, a habitat that he needed to get used to if he wanted to keep his new job. "There's a good lad. I know this sounds boring, but if you feel or know that you're going to end up on the auction block, come to us. We'll help." Once more the doberman gave Riley a present, this time it was a card with the station's number on it. "Stay safe."
With that he got out of the room, probably to observe from behind the window pane. Riley looked down at the card that was in his forepaw. Acquiescing, he played with it for a moment; he folded up the corners and finally slipped it next to the can of pepper spray. The metal of the can still felt cold against his fur, it felt as if his thigh was burning from it, but nevertheless it seemed to be a relaxing feeling. Riley wondered what it felt like to have money, condoms or a sachet of lube down in his boxers, would it be uncomfortable? Would the lube be cold like the can? Would the money blow out in the wind and leave him penniless? Riley sighed, the night was already convoluted without a bipolar canine and a hundred things to keep in his boxers.
Riley's thoughts were cut off by a voice that got his tail curving. "Hi!" The voice announced its presence as to not alarm Riley by seeming to appear in front of him. A dalmatian who was around the same size as Riley entered in order to replace the doberman who had left a minute ago. The dalmatian blushed upon seeing the tiger and scurried into his seat. A horrible screeching noise filled the room as he dragged the chair closer to the table.
"Trainee Adams. My-my name." He held out his forepaw, Riley shook it with a smirk; the dalmatian looked to be scrawny and just as terrified as a newborn cub, but at least he was trying to act brave. "Thanks for... errr. cooperating so far, Ry. And sorry about Sgt. Brooke threatening you and stuff. He's just a bit... pushy at times." The canine rubbed a small, fresh scar that marked his black, rough nose; it irritated him both mentally and physically. There was no blood anymore, but rather it was in between the stages of forming a scab and bleeding freely. "It's alright, Adams." Riley tried not to burst out laughing. Seeing the spotted dog in an officer's uniform was comedy gold.
"How are you feeling? I know that this room gets a little stuffy a times." Adams smiled through his teeth. His smile was beautiful to Riley, it made him cheer up a bit. "I feel like a prisoner to be honest." "Well you're not. You haven't done anything dangerous, so you're free to leave. But if you do walk out on us it won't look good in your court case." Adams warned. "So please don't. Like Brooke said, the last thing that we want is to through a young tiger like you in the prisoners and have you end up coming out the other side as a buff drug/alcohol addict who beats his boyfriend. Besides, prostitutes are beneficial to all of us." Adams winked. "Watch it. This is being recorded." Riley giggled, "Oh and don't worry about the whole drug thing! Those things taste nasty..." Riley pulled a face, sticking out his tongue to get the both of them laughing.
"Right, could you... errr.. blow.." Adams nearly burst into hysterics. "Into this breathalyzer?" He asked with a grin once his laughing fit ceased. He held out the device. "I'll tell you when to stop." "First of all, Adams, you suck when you give a blowjob, not blow. Ironic right?" The joke was audacious, but the trainne dalmatian didn't mind Riley's crude, bawdy joke; in fact he snickered slightly and bit the inside of his lip to keep his serious act together. "And second of all yes I can." Riley continued. He took the device in paw and aerated the tube.
"Stop!"
Adams looked at the breathalyzer when he took it back. "Clean!" He announced allowed and put it down. "Thank you." He smiled to Riley. "No problem. All the better that I proved Brooke wrong." Riley smiled back to Adams. "One more question now, is that alright? Then we can let you go for the night until the court case." "Go on then." Riley was enjoying the company of the much kinder canine.
"Could you describe your life- I mean night please? I know that it'll be a long answer, but this is going to be a long night anyway." Adams smiled to Riley and rubbed the back of head as he chuckled. "Go from about 6:00 this afternoon please. We want to keep you out of jail after all, so this'll help a lot." Adams put his thumb up to the window pane, confirming Riley's suspicions. Riley smiled and opened his mouth to speak. "You might need a few recordings for this..."
Thanks For Reading!
Please tell me if you spot any mistakes! ^_^
Story, Character and Locations © Kalebthecat