Cuffed by the Cop

by Henri Couesnon

  And, when Brun finally spoke, his words were encouraging.

  “Remember—I know your name, and I know where you live,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You tell anybody about this—you make any kind of complaint—and you’ll be sorry, boy.”

  “I won’t. I won’t say anything to anybody. I swear to God!”

  “You’d better not.”

  “I promise—!”

  “Aw, shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth shut. Be smart. Okay?”

  “Yes—yes, sir.”

  Brun turned into Franck’s street, and he pulled up in front of his apartment building. Once again, he opened the rear door. Helping Franck get out of the car, he finally freed him from the handcuffs.

  “I guess it’s not the first time your neighbors have seen you cuffed,” Brun said, mockingly. “The only surprise is that you’re being dropped off—not hauled away.”

  Franck knew better than to offer any retort.

  “Get your ass inside, now, and don’t you let me see you hanging out on the streets, peddling it, again.”

  “No—no, sir. Thank you.”

  “You dumb whore,” was the policeman’s gruff parting shot, as he got back into the patrol car and drove off.

  Franck let himself into his apartment building. His hands shook when he used his key to let himself into the lobby—and they shook again, when he pressed the button to call the elevator—and yet again, when he unlocked his apartment door.

  He’d dodged a bullet, he knew. He’d gotten off easy, as a matter of fact. A blow job—that was no big deal.

  Big, fat cop dick in my mouth—the horny son of a bitch sure gave me a big load, Franck thought. Oh, the motherfucking pig—raping my mouth, raping my throat. Fucking me, orally. I thought I was going to choke on it. The dirty bastard!

  But, damn! Talk about a hot cop! If I’d met him under different circumstances, I might have really gone for him. I’d have tricked with him—yeah, let him have it, for free. Even so, I have to admit I kind of got off on it.

  Whatever I do, though, I can’t admit that to Didier. He mustn’t ever know. It’s bad enough I was careless enough to get caught in the act by a cop. But sucking a cop off—that’s even worse. I’d never live it down!

  Franck undressed, and got into bed. His cock was in an uproar, a steely, inflexible erection, demanding attention—and relief. In the darkness of his bedroom, he jerked off, furiously, while he thought about the hot cop—Brigadier Brun—who had threatened to arrest him, but who had been bought off, with that sordid blow job, there in the dark, dirty alley.

  Cop bastard, oh, you cop bastard, Franck thought, as his fist pumped away on his stiff prick. Cop dick in my mouth—hot cop cum, shooting out of his prick, filling my mouth, choking me—! Dirty, horny motherfucker, raping my mouth, making me swallow his cum! Cop—oh, I hate you, you cop! Yeah, I hate your fucking guts, oh, I hope you get shot, I hope you fucking die! Aw, shit! I’m coming! You’re making me come! God damn you, cop, you’re making me come!

  Fuck me, cop! Fuck my mouth. Fuck my ass. I want you to fuck me—aw, hell! I’m coming! Coming, so hard—so much—!

  Franck ejaculated, violently, spraying his jism all over himself. Not even bothering to wipe himself off, he rolled over, and he slept.

  Chapter Five: An Unexpected Visitor

  “So, how’d it go?” Franck asked Didier the next morning, when Didier arrived back from Montpellier.

  His roommate shrugged. “Oh, the usual. The guy’s married and he wanted to fool around while his wife was out of town. He was so damn paranoid about the neighbors seeing me coming or going that we had to eat in. He did make a good bouillabaisse for dinner last night, though, and a decent breakfast this morning. As for the sex—all he wanted to do was suck me. The son of a bitch’s mouth never seemed to get tired, and I didn’t get much sleep. I thought my dick was going to fall off! He was a good tipper, though. So, on the whole—not a bad gig. And you? What’d you get up to, last night?”

  “Oh, nothing much. I went for a jog, late at night.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Just about,” Franck prevaricated. “Nothing else worth mentioning. I came home, I took a shower, and I went to bed.”

  “Boring,” Didier decreed.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  The two roommates went about their usual routines.

  Late one afternoon, Franck got home from work. He was tired, and he treated himself to a long, hot shower. After changing into some clean clothes, he relaxed in the living room, watching television. Didier wasn’t due to get off work for another couple of hours. Franck assumed that they’d make themselves some dinner, and then spend a quiet evening at home, perhaps checking the website to see if any johns wanted their services.

  The doorbell chimed. Franck used the remote to switch off the TV, and then he went to the intercom to answer it.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “Let me in.”

  Franck didn’t recognize the voice—which was, admittedly, distorted by the less than high fidelity intercom. “Who is this?” he asked,

  “It’s the police. Brigadier Brun. Open up.”

  “Shit,” Franck muttered, to himself.

  He debated for a moment, but then he pressed the button to buzz the cop through the apartment building’s front door and into its lobby. He waited, in a fever of anxiety, while Brun rode up the elevator and found his apartment’s door. Nervously, Franck jumped when the doorbell rang.

  Steeling himself, he opened the door.

  Brun stood there, in his uniform, the picture of macho arrogance. His eyes, behind those same amber-tinted sunglasses, were impassive.

  “What are you doing here?” Franck asked.

  “Checking up on you.”

  “You can’t be here.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t live here alone. My roommate will be back, soon.”

  “Oh—would that be Didier? I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Franck was thunderstruck. “How do you know his name?”

  “Do you really think you have any secrets from the police department?”

  “Fuck,” Franck muttered.

  “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “Maybe I’d better,” Franck said, sullenly. “I don’t want any of the neighbors to see me entertaining a cop on my doorstep.”

  “Oh? As opposed to all the other men you and your roommate have been known to entertain here, on a regular basis?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Franck urged. “And come inside.” Nervously, he ushered his unexpected and unwelcome visitor inside the apartment, closing the door behind him. “Now, what do you want?”

  “Just for you and me to be friends. Aren’t you going to offer me a drink? I just got off duty, you see. I can indulge.”

  “Have a cold beer, if you want.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  Franck fetched the beer from the refrigerator. “Drink it and go,” he told the cop.

  “Oh, why should we hurry? We hardly know each other.”

  “I don’t want to know you.”

  “You’re an arrogant young pup,” Brun said. He looked and sounded amused. “You need a firm hand.”

  “Oh, and I suppose you’re the one to provide that?”

  “Precisely.”

  “You are so full of yourself. In fact—you can go fuck yourself!” Franck blustered.

  “Pushing the envelope, are you, punk?”

  “You don’t scare me. You’ve got nothing on me. You can’t bust me for what happened at the gas station the other night—not this long after the fact. You’re bluffing. I can see right through you, cop—!”

  “And I can see right through you, too.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, you’re like a lot of arrogant, mouthy young punks. You’re just putting on an act. Really, secretly, you want to be—subjected to authority, to discipline.”

  “In you
r dreams! Fuck you, cop.”

  “Take off your shirt.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  “Why should I?” Franck blustered.

  “Take it off, or get it torn off. Because you know I’ll do it.”

  “Shit—!” Franck protested, feebly, but he shed his T-shirt. Stripped to the waist, he stood there, trembling.

  “Now turn around,” Brun coached him. “Hands behind your head. You know the drill.”

  “You cunt cop,” Franck dared to say. “Fuck you!” But he had turned around, facing away from the police officer, with his hands clasped together behind his head.

  “Ah, nice mouth,” Brun crooned. “That mouth of yours could get you into trouble, someday, you know.” He snapped his handcuffs around Franck’s wrists, securing his arms behind his back.

  Franck stood there, in his living room, stripped to the waist, with his hands shackled behind his back. “Now what?”

  “Now I’m going to get these clothes off you, and take a good look at you—naked. I want to see what we’ve got to work with. Don’t even think about resisting,” Brun warned.

  “No—!”

  “I’m afraid ‘no’ isn’t a word you should be using with me, boy.”

  “If Didier comes home—”

  “Then he’ll be welcome to join the party. You think I can’t handle two of you punks, as easily as one? That’s why I always carry an extra pair of handcuffs.”

  Franck would have liked to see the question put to the test. He would enjoy seeing Didier beat this arrogant cop’s ass! But, wisely, he kept his thoughts to himself.

  “Let me alone,” he begged.

  “Shut the fuck up, if you know what’s good for you.” None too gently, Brun pushed Franck down onto the couch. “Now, don’t move. I’m going to strip you. Yeah, a thorough strip search—!”

  Roughly, Brun leaned over and divested Franck of his clothes. First he yanked the training shoes from his feet. Then his socks. Next, his sweatpants. Finally, his underwear. Franck was naked! Naked—and handcuffed!

  “You get the hell away from me,” he warned the cop who had undressed him. “Don’t you dare touch me. You fucking pervert!”

  “Quiet,” Brun advised. “Ah, that’s a pretty ass you’ve got there, and a nice big cock. Couldn’t really see them, the other night, when you were down on your knees, in that alley, sucking me off—!”

  “You cocksucking cunt cop.”

  “Oh, nice mouth. Very disrespectful. We’ll have to improve your attitude.”

  “Okay—you’ve got me naked and handcuffed. Now what?”

  “Get up. We’re going into your bedroom,” Brun decreed. “Lead the way.”

  In Franck’s bedroom, Brun made himself at home. While Franck stood there, naked and handcuffed, the cop leisurely divested himself of his own clothes.

  As a preamble to stripping, Brun first removed his sunglasses, folding them and tucking them away in the pocket of his shirt. For the first time, Franck saw that the man’s eyes were gray—coolly appraising, when they looked at Franck, and devoid of warmth. With a tight, calm, humorless smile creasing his lips, Brun continued to undress.

  First he shed the polished black leather utility belt which held his semiautomatic pistol in its holster, and his portable two-way radio. Next, Brun removed his tie clasp, unknotted his tie, and pulled it off. He unbuttoned his uniform shirt, stripping it off to reveal the snug-fitting, plain white cotton he wore underneath.

  Franck stared at the man’s big shoulders, pecs, and biceps. Once again, he hated to admit it, even to himself, but he had to—this cop was hot! He got even more excited when Brun stripped off the T-shirt, baring his torso—and the cop noticed.

  “Like what you see?” he asked, smugly.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve seen better—and I’ve had better.” Which was a lie, but Franck wasn’t about to let the other man know that.

  Brun laughed. “You may need a refresher course, in how to mind your manners.”

  “And I suppose you’re the one to teach me?”

  “That’s right.” In the same slow, methodical manner. Brun resumed his undressing, leaning over to untie the laces of his polished black leather shoes. Slipping off the shoes, he then peeled off his black socks. He stood up and opened his uniform trousers, dropping them to around his ankles and stepping out of them. Finally, he shed his roomy white cotton boxer shorts—the same kind of underwear he’d worn on the night he and Franck had met, when Franck had sucked him off.

  Brun stood there, nude, preening a bit, obviously posing for Franck’s benefit.

  His handcuffed prisoner decided to deflate the cop’s ego.

  “So you’ve got a half decent body,” Franck said, dismissively. “So what? Am I supposed to be impressed? Big, fat, fucking deal. Any dude can get all pumped up like that, especially if he’s on steroids, which I bet you are. Yeah, you look like just another juiced-up, ‘roided-out freak to me—!”

  Smiling, Brun crossed the short distance separating them, and, even before Franck had finished speaking, he raised his hand and slapped Franck’s face—hard!

  “Ow!” Franck yelled. “What was that for?”

  “For the hell of it. And to remind you to watch your mouth. And because I can do it, and you’re going to take it.” As though to prove his point, Brun delivered another stinging slap to Franck’s face.

  “You dirty cop,” Franck spat out, angrily. “I bet you’re on the take!”

  “Oh, so I’m dirty, am I?” Brun sounded amused by the accusation. “Then I guess you’d better clean me up. Get busy, bitch. Give me a tongue bath. Use your tongue on every part of my body. Lick and suck me, everywhere. You can start with my feet. Kiss the soles of my feet, and then suck on my toes, and stick your tongue in between them. Then you can work your way up, from there. Pay extra attention to my armpits, when you get to them—they feel kind of sweaty. They probably stink.”

  He put his hand on Franck’s bare chest and pushed him backward, so that he fell onto the bed. With his cuffed hands behind him, confined to the small of his back, Franck couldn’t lie comfortably on his back. He rolled onto his side.

  The naked cop joined him on the bed. His cock was hard.

  “Start licking,” he demanded. “Unless you want a beating.”

  Franck did as he’d been told. It was disgusting, in a way, and undeniably humiliating. But he found a perverse pleasure in servicing that muscular body with his lips and tongue. Not being able to use his hands was frustrating, and it was a constant reminder that he was this man’s captive, at his mercy. Franck didn’t know what this rough cop might be capable of! But the dude was obviously a fucking sadist, so Franck wouldn’t put too much past him!

  When Brun told him to suck his cock, he obeyed, without hesitation or question.

  “Now my ass,” the cop instructed him. “Stick your tongue up my ass!”

  Franck rimmed the man, frantically, desperately trying to get him so excited that he’d want to come soon—which would, presumably, bring this ordeal to an end.

  “Good boy,” Brun grunted, while Franck ate his ass. “I can tell you’re an experienced whore,” he taunted his prisoner. “Okay, that’s enough of that, for now. On to the main event.”

  Franck could guess what that meant. He was going to be fucked!

  Brun sprang off the bed and went to where he’d put his discarded clothes. He unsnapped the holster and drew out his pistol.

  “Do you know what this is?” he asked, returning to the bed and brandishing the weapon, for Franck’s inspection.

  “It’s your gun.”

  “It’s a SIG Sauer Pro 2022, to be exact. Standard issue.”

  “So what? Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  “I’m going to fuck your ass, punk. And the whole time I’m using your hole, I’m going to hold this pistol to your head. To remind you who’s the boss here, and who’s the bitch. I want you to keep thinking, while I’m scr
ewing you, that all I have to do is flip off the safety, and squeeze the trigger—and that wall next to the bed will be painted with your blood and your brains. If that doesn’t guarantee your cooperation, I don’t know what will.”

  “Shit,” Franck whimpered. “You must be crazy!”

  “Maybe I am. You never can tell. You ought to be more careful about letting strange men into your apartment—into your bed. But then, apparently, you aren’t too discriminating,” Brun said, contemptuously. “Where do you keep your lube? Here, in this drawer beside the bed? Ready for when you entertain a john?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You mean ‘yes, sir,’ don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You ready to get fucked?” Brun asked, as he slid open the drawer of the nightstand and retrieved the tube of lubricant Franck kept there.

  Do I have a choice? Franck wondered. “Yes, sir. Get it over with,” he pleaded.

  Quickly, efficiently, Brun slicked up his dick. And then, unceremoniously, he shoved it up Franck’s ass.

  “Ah, hell, dude!” Franck screamed. “Come on, man! Take it out! You’re hurting me. It’s just too fucking big!”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Brun predicted, cynically.

  “I’m not kidding. You’re killing me! You big-dicked bastard. Big-dicked son of a bitch. I can’t take it, it hurts!”

  “You have to breathe, boy,” the cop advised him. “Take deep breaths, and let your ass get used to the way my cock feels inside you. I’m going to be nice to you, punk. I’m going to cut you a break. I’m not going to start pounding away, not yet. We’ll just lie here for a minute, while your hole gets used to my dick. Let me know when you’re ready, when you want me to start fucking you for real.”

  “You dirty, stinking, raping motherfucker!”

  Brun chuckled. “That sweet talk isn’t going to impress me, boy. Let’s understand each other. Your ass is mine. I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to come in your ass, and you’re going to love every minute of it.”

  “I hate your guts!”

  “I’m sure you do, now. But you’re going to love me by the time I’m done with you.”