Punished by Parents in Law

'Please, I have done nothing wrong. You must let me go!' I cried out in desperation.

'You are staying right here, young lady.'

With those words ringing in my ears Sheriff Stone left the building. I was left hugging the bars of the cell, tears rolling down my cheeks. I was so absorbed in my misery that I briefly forgot about the fellow occupants in my cell. When I heard one of them moving I turned my head and gazed over my shoulder. Both of the scruffy males were now sitting upright and looking a damn sight more sober than they were when I first arrived. Both were staring lecherously at my body, which was probably not surprising given I was dressed so provocatively in my baby doll outfit.

'What are you all staring at?' I snapped, trying to hide my fear.

'Show us your pussy?' the shorter guy on the left sneered.

'What?' I howled in disbelief

'Come on. Prostitutes are use to showing off their pussies. Give us a free show.'

'I am not a prostitute!' I screamed. 'I am a happily married woman and any minute my darling husband and my Mother in Law are going to burst through that door and clear up this horrible mess.'

'Yeah, whatever. You look like a prostitute to me. Show us your pussy.' With that both of the drunks stood up ominously.

Fortunately at that moment the rear door to the office swung open and the considerable bulk of Sheriff Stone entered, holding a seriously intoxicated teenage male by the collar.

'Thank god you have returned,' I cried out to the Sheriff, 'These bastards were trying to take advantage of me. They should be arrested.'

The Sheriff ignored me

'Have you checked out my story? Am I free to go?' I pleaded

The Sheriff continued to ignore my pleas. He opened the cell door and almost threw the intoxicated teenager inside, before locking the door again. It was starting to get very crowded in the little cell. I was angry and afraid.

'Are you going deaf?' I yelled at Sheriff Stone, 'I asked if I was free to go.'

The Sheriff gave me a deathly stare, and walked over to where I was gripping the cell bars. He towered over me, and glared down. 'You listen to me young lady. You will be processed when I am ready, and not before. And unless you want to make your situation a lot worse than it already is I suggest you button up that lip of yours and start showing me some respect. Is that clear young lady?'

'Yes,' I replied sulkily

'Pardon?' the Sheriff barked

I looked up into the Sheriff's eyes. 'Yes, sir, Sheriff Stone. I understand.'

'You understand what?' The Sheriff was beginning to sound a lot like my Mother in Law.

'I understand I need to keep quiet, and show you some respect,' I pouted.

The Sheriff nodded his head in agreement as he sat down at his desk, and began filling out forms. I looked around my cell. All three of my drunken cellmates were staring at me with a glazed look of lust in their eyes. I prayed the Sheriff would not depart again and leave me alone with them, and I suddenly regretted I had made him angry. I pulled my bibbed dress down in a vain attempt to hide my little cotton panda panties from prying eyes.

'Go on, show us your arse,' one of my cellmates gleefully whispered quietly to me.

'Leave me alone, you dirty little creep,' I retorted.

The Sheriff looked up angrily, clearly not happy at my outburst. 'What did I just ask you to do?'

'But you don't understand,' I whined, 'He asked me to show him my arse.'

'Young lady, you are going to learn that when I ask a prisoner to follow a simple instruction, I expect it to be obeyed without question.'

I bit down on my lip. When was I going to learn to keep quiet and not answer back? It always got me into deep trouble with my Mother in Law, and now I was getting into even bigger trouble with the local Sheriff of this small hick town in the middle of nowhere. Surely Michael and his mother must come bursting through that door at any moment to clear up this whole mess and take me back to the ranch.

'And what do you expect, anyway,' Sheriff Stone continued. 'Prostituting yourself around town dressed up like a little girl, wearing a skirt that doesn't even cover your panties properly. If you were my daughter I would put you over my knee and give you a damn good spanking.'

My heart stopped momentarily. I bit down harder on my lip, and tried desperately to show no emotion.

'Don't you think that is what you deserve?' the Sheriff prodded.

'No, sir,' I pouted, trying not to cry.

'Is that right. Well I beg to differ young lady. I suppose you have never had a damn good spanking?'

I could not believe the direction the Sheriff's questions were going. I remained silent, staring at my feet, hoping desperately he would let up on me. Given my luck, I should have known better.

'Well?' the Sheriff enquired sternly

'Well, what?' I mumbled my response, still looking down at my feet to avoid eye contact.

'Look at me young lady!'

I raised my eyes timidly to meet the Sheriff's glare.

'Have you ever had a damn good spanking?'

'Yes, sir.' I responded.

'And when was the last time you were spanked, young lady.'

'Very recently, sir,' I mumbled, embarrassed at the admission.

Sheriff Stone raised his eyebrows in obvious surprise. 'Is that so. Well I never.'

I knew I was blushing. Almost as an innate reaction, I reached behind me and tried to pull my skirt down further over my buttocks. I could hear my three drunken inmates chuckling amongst themselves, obviously delighting in my predicament. Thankfully the Sheriff returned to his paperwork without further questioning.

Time seemed to stand still. I stood, gripping the bars, not even trusting myself to look at my drunken cellmates. Eventually the considerable bulk of Sheriff Stone raised itself from the desk and meandered over to the cell, unlocking the door.

Without looking at anyone in particular, he barked, 'Out!'

I looked around but no one had moved. 'Me, sir?' I asked timidly.

'Yes you. Out. Go and stand beside my desk.'

Despite my fear of the Sheriff I could not wait to get out of that cell. In a flash I was standing beside his desk, awkwardly gripping the bottom of my skirt with both hands in an attempt to preserve my modesty.

The Sheriff sat down at his desk, the chair groaning under the considerable strain. He briefly shuffled some papers around until he found what he was looking for. He glanced up and me, and I responded with a sheepish grin.

He picked up a pen 'Name?'

'Please, Sheriff Stone,' I pleaded, 'Do we really need to go through with this. There has been a big misunderstanding, and if you just take a moment to speak to my husband or my Mother in Law it will all be cleared up.'

The Sheriff let out an exaggerated sigh of frustration and slowly looked up from his paper. For a long moment he fixed me with an intense stare, but said nothing. My hands began to fidget with the bottom of my skirt.

'Name?' he repeated in a slow drawl, his eyes unblinking as they locked into mine.

'Kym Rose Barclay,' I mumbled in defeat.

'Age?'

'29 years, sir.'

This clearly surprised the Sheriff, and he shook his head as if in disgust. '29 years?'

'Yes, sir,' I repeated, embarrassed. The Sheriff was clearly bemused as to why a mature 29-year-old woman was parading herself around town in clothing more befitting an 8 year old.

He rested his elbows on the desk and leaned forward towards me, as if not wanting to miss a word. 'Time for your explanation. This had better be good.'

I squirmed like a young child desperate to relieve herself. 'Wwwwhat.' I mumbled. I had heard the Sheriff clearly but was trying to stall for time. I looked up desperately at the front door, praying Michael would sweep in and rescue me.