“If it’s any of your business,” she said indignantly, “I changed at the office.”
“Ah, for one drink.”
“Yes.”
“Into that,” he said, gesturing up and down her body with his hand.
“Yes.”
“And what time do you finish work, Ms. Waterstone?”
“I don’t really think you have the right to ask me those—”
“What time,” he said, stepping closer, his voice becoming hard.
“Um, six.”
“So you nursed one drink for nearly six hours, is that right?”
“Um, look, Officer.”
“And you tried to bribe me, correct?”
“Um, no,” she said, knowing she was defeated. Fuck! How could she have been so stupid? “Look, uh, Officer.”
“No,” he said, putting a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent. He stepped forward again. She could smell his scent. He smelled fresh. He must have just started his shift, she thought. He leaned forward a little, until his head was nearly touching hers, and smelled her beside her ear.
Leslie’s mind whirled. What the fuck was he doing? Was he taking her up on her offer?
“What are you doing?” she said, before gasping as he suddenly took her ear lobe into his mouth. He suckled on it lightly, flicking his tongue over the soft piece of cartilage, and she shivered beneath the warm and wet touch of his tongue, feeling sparks ignite within her.
God, she thought. That felt surprisingly good!
“What… what are you doing?” she repeated as he continued to knead her ear lobe in between his lips, alternating between sucking on it and nibbling on it.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, drawing back, a sarcastic sneer stretching his lips.
“Um, no, officer,” Leslie returned, feeling a little out of her depth.
“Are you sure? Because just moments ago you were quite ready to whore yourself out to me like a filthy bitch.”
“What?” Leslie said, recoiling at the sudden savagery in his voice.
“And all for one little speeding ticket. You broke the law. You exceeded the limit. What’s that they say about making beds and then lying in them?”
“Hey, just hold on a minute!” Leslie said, her voice rising, and tremors of anger shaking it. “Who the hell do you think you—”
“No, you hold on a minute,” he said, placing his hand roughly around her shoulder and bringing her head close to his. He whispered now, his voice hoarse and intense. “You don’t want this ticket, do you?”
“N-no, officer.”
“And you were hoping that by showing off those perky breasts of yours that I’d let you off the hook.”
“N-no,” she lied.
“I think you mean yes,” Officer Marshall said, grinning wickedly at her. “What, you think this is the first time I’ve ever been propositioned? Don’t be naive!” He had spat the words at her with contempt, and Leslie felt a pang in her sex at the nastiness with which the policeman was treating her. Was this turning her on?
“Well, now it’s time to follow through. Please walk around to the other side of your car.”
“Why?” she challenged meekly.
“Because right now we’re on the driver’s side. It’s dangerous, honey. I won’t take the risk.”
“What? What risk?”
“Of getting hit by an idiot driver. Or a drunk one, like yourself. Now get around to the other side, or I’ll have to make you.” He inched closer to her, physically intimidating. She folded, and slipped out from under his gaze to walk around to the passenger side door.
“Good,” he said softly, almost cooing at her as he followed her around. He took out his baton and grasped it firmly in his hands.
“What are you going to do with that?” Leslie asked hurriedly. She was starting to feel the onset of panic, the tendrils of terror creeping into her consciousness.
“Me? Oh, I’m not going to do anything with Jake, here.”
“Your baton has a name?”
“It’s what you’re going to do to Jake,” the policeman said, smoothly skipping over Leslie’s latest outburst.
“Oh, yeah?” she said, putting her hands on her hips and doing her best not to look scared. But in truth, she knew it showed. What was worse, she thought, was that the idea of doing ‘something’ to Jake was, oddly enough, arousing. Just what did he mean?
“You’re going to suck on Jake for a little bit, and you’re going to do it better than any of the dozens of cocks I know you’ve had before.”
“What?” she exclaimed incredulously.
“Don’t give me that, Miss Waterstone. Treat me with some respect please.”
“So, what?” she replied shakily. “I just have to suck it?”
“We’ll see,” Officer Marshall said, holding out the baton in front of her. She looked at it for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing. It looked really thick.
“That baton looks really big,” she said, before looking up at the policeman and gulping.
“It’s special issue,” he replied evenly. “Thicker, longer, and heavier. For more… serious violations. Now, get on your knees.”
“Okay, okay. But you promise you’ll let me off?”
“Only if you perform well enough for me on this lovely night, Leslie.” It was the first time he’d addressed her by her name, and he did so with such contempt in his voice that she once again felt a flutter of hunger in her folds. She hated to admit it to herself… but something about this was simply erotic!
“Okay then,” she said, lowering to her knees and staring at the quivering black rod before her. Gingerly, she opened her lips, and wrapped them around the tip of the baton. It was not as cold as she’d expected it to be. Gradually she worked it into her mouth, her eyes fixed on Officer Marshall who looked down at her with a small smile, his arm as steady as a rock.
Leslie closed her eyes, finding it easier to perform this absurd — yet arousing — act on the policeman’s baton. She slowly let it sink into her mouth, feeling it press against the back of her throat. She swallowed the gag reflex with ease, before letting the baton out of her mouth, leaving it glistening in her saliva.
“Pump it, too,” Officer Marshall growled at her, his voice heavy and laced with lust.
“Okay,” she said, taking the baton once more into her mouth and sucking on it, this time bringing up one of her hands to begin working the piece of metal slowly. It had warmed up considerably. Leslie sucked it harder and faster, finding the feel of it, the idea of it, heady. Her mind began to swim as she concentrated on sucking the dead piece of metal in front of her, trying to imagine that it was a big cock. It would be bigger than any cocks she’d ever had, she thought with a smile. This… special issue baton was thick, thicker than a cock could be, and for a fleeting moment, Leslie wondered what it would feel like stretching her sex.
“That’s right,” the policeman snarled at her, snapping her out of reverie. She sucked the baton more wildly, working it as she had done so many cocks before. She knew how to pleasure a man, how to make him climax quickly and powerfully. She knew how to tease a man, how to bring him to the brink, toeing the line, before easing him back and driving him wild. This baton didn’t react one way or another, so she varied her technique, playing with it, losing herself in the act.
The alcohol helped that. She still had a buzz, and it was driving her own arousal. Her nipples had grown stiff, and so had her clitoris. Slowly, she raised herself onto her knees, her gym-trained thigh muscles more than capable of supporting her weight. She sent a hand sliding down her abdomen to creep up beneath the hem of her dress. The dress was short. There wasn’t far to go until she reached her heated, sodden panties. She pressed her dampness against herself, dragging a finger up and down her folds through the fabric of her underwear, feeling the stub of her hardened pearl protruding outward like her own nipples did through her dress.
“That’s right,” Officer Marshall said. “You’re enjoying this
like I knew you would.” Suddenly, he pushed the baton forward an inch, and Leslie groaned at the intrusion. He hadn’t pushed hard or tried to hurt her, but she was taking the baton down her throat now, and it left her little room to breath. She couldn’t even cough, and the urge to retch was more powerful.
“Suck it deep,” he said wickedly, and Leslie opened her eyes to see his glinting in the night, full of savagery and lust and carnality. She could feel the press of his wanting as if it was a blanket draped over her, as if it was a snake coiling around her. She saw that the look in his eyes had become more urgent, and as she looked down his body she saw what looked like a massive erection tenting his trousers.
Jesus, she thought. He looks big! She redoubled her focus on the rod of heavy, thick metal in front of her. She increased her pace, intensity, as if she wanted to bring the baton to climax so that she could end this, so that she could graduate to something more.
She sucked it hard and pumped it violently with her hands, using her own saliva as lubricant to slide her enclosed fist up and down the length of metal. She brushed against his hand momentarily, and the touch was electric. The feel of skin against the feel of metal. The temperature difference. The softness of a knuckle seemed ludicrous on its own, but to Leslie, juxtaposed against the unwavering rigidity of the baton before her… it was fantastical.
And, despite her own (vaguely) protesting cognitions, it was intensely erotic.
Leslie opened her eyes again, looking up the outstretched arm of Officer Marshall. This time, his other arm was moving, and she looked down to see that he was pumping his cock. She gasped on the baton in surprise as the realization dawned on her: Officer Marshall’s cock was thicker than the metal rod!
“Concentrate!” he fired at her, pushing on the baton a little. She nodded feverishly and sucked on the baton like her life depended on it, and she shivered, thinking that it just might. The policeman seemed unhinged and sexually supercharged… was he dangerous? No, don’t be ridiculous! Leslie’s mind was a sudden whir of fear and arousal; horror and hunger.
Her eyes drifted back to the policeman’s cock, thick and lined with snaking veins that themselves were as thick as one of her fingers. Jesus, she thought, imagining the thick cock stretching her. She noted that it wasn’t particularly long, perhaps even on the average side. But gosh was it thick! She preferred it better that way, having tried both. But Officer Marshall definitely existed at an extreme.
She let the rhythmic pumping of his cock mesmerize her a little, timing her own sucking and pumping of the rigid rod to it, like marching to the beat of a drum. She watched as his hands enclosed over the wide dome that tipped his cock, a helmet that reminded her of old war movies. She watched as the veins shriveled as his tightly squeeze hand worked its way up his cock, only to stretch out again as his hand came back down. She watched as his dome pulsed and throbbed visibly to the beat of the policeman’s apparently racing heart
He’s really liking this, she thought. But it was time for more. Her marveling at Officer Marshall’s cock had ignited a hunger within her that was beginning to take control of her cognitions. She sucked hard on the baton one more time, pumping it extra fast, pretending that it was on the verge of ejaculating into her. She acted it, mimed it, feeling no more ridiculous for it. Then she released it.
“What are you doing?” the policeman growled in front of her, not interrupting his own masturbation. “Suck on it.”
“No.” Leslie said stolidly. Officer Marshall seemed confused. How, so suddenly, could the power have slipped from his grasp? Leslie had encountered men like that before. Men who never, ever saw a bend in the road up ahead. But she wasn’t going to take it all from him. No, he still could hold the threat of a speeding ticket over her head. But the new focus in her mind wasn’t about that. It was about her own pleasure. It was about satisfying the cries for attention that rippled through her body, all originating from one place: her sodden cunt.
“No?” the policeman said, raising his voice. Leslie winced, hating that he’d done that, that it had taken away from his sexiness. But it was only a minor dent. Slowly, she slipped her arms through the straps of her dress, and it fell down to pool at her midriff. Her breasts were bared to the man with the baton, who gawked at them, mouth hanging stupidly ajar. “What are you doing?” he whispered at her. Leslie didn’t respond. She cupped each of her breasts and squeezed them, pushing them together, loving their feel. They weren’t huge, and in her youth she had been jealous of girls who were well endowed. But she had come to appreciate her own middling-in-size breasts. They clung to her chest with a firmness that she thought entirely attractive; they were the perfect shape, rounded, smooth, with just a hint of perk.
“Jesus,” Officer Marshall whispered, his voice thick with arousal. He hadn’t blinked since she started kneading her own breasts, and when Leslie ran her fingers up the smooth skin of her tits to pinch her nipples and moan softly beneath her breath, he responded by tugging himself harder and faster.
“Officer,” Leslie said, almost moaning it at him before biting her lip softly. “I love sucking on your… tool. But a pretty girl like me… who’s been drinking… has needs too.” She moaned at him louder, tweaking her nipples hard, pulling them so that her breasts formed brief pyramids. “I just can’t get another parking ticket,” she added, raising her voice, play acting like she was a schoolgirl again and getting in trouble.
“You know,” he said, his face breaking out into a nasty grin. “I was just getting to this part.”
“Oh, I wasn’t too quick was I?” Leslie said, gesturing at the baton with her head.
“Too quick? Jake here can go forever.” Officer Marshall’s profile was suddenly washed in bright light, and Leslie swore, rushing to pull her dress back up over her breasts. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he said, and she froze her movement. She heard the sound of a car door close and footsteps approaching her.
“Officer Barnes,” he said, nodding his head at her, still pumping his iron cock. What the fuck? Leslie thought. She turned and looked over her shoulder, and there was a policewoman, her mouth a thin and severe line, her platinum blond hair cut extremely close, and wide sunglasses hiding her eyes.
Jesus, Leslie thought. Another one with sunglasses at night!
“What do we have here?” she said, her voice a little husky.
“Speeding. Says she can’t get a ticket.”
“Don’t they all?”
“Who-who are you?” Leslie said, cupping her breasts in her hands and hunching her back.
“Officer Barnes, Miss?”
“Waterstone,” Leslie replied, thinking how amazingly ridiculous it was she was introducing herself to a policewoman like this.
“Right. Miss Waterstone, I take it you’ve met Jake?”
“Uh huh,” Leslie said, nodding, still not quite believing that Officer Marshall had named his baton. It was exacerbated by the fact that another person was now addressing the baton by its name as well!
“Good, so you’ve been acquainted. Right, Officer Marshall, should we get started?” He nodded at her, and Leslie felt the cold touch of panic on her mind again.
“What’s going on?” she said, as the two police officer’s swapped positions. Officer Barnes came into her view while Officer Marshall disappeared behind her.
“On your knees,” the policewoman said sternly. “Please, Miss Waterstone,” she added stiffly.
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t you’ll get that ticket. And if you do… well, trust me. I’m a woman. You’ll never have an experience like it again.”
“What?” Leslie said, jarred by the change of tone in the policewoman’s voice. She felt a hand on her shoulder guiding her forward, and she let Officer Marshall push her into position. She was on her hands and knees, feeling the roughness of the tarmac grating against her skin. She looked over her shoulder to see the policeman kneeling down, his pumping his cock furiously in his hand. He lifted her dress and dragged his nose
up the cleft of her ass, inhaling deeply. He found the elastic of her panties and pulled them down her legs until they were at her knees. She was bared to him, and he groaned in appreciation as her undoubtedly slick folds came into view, a precious pink, a yearning sex. He began to smack his cock against the insides of her thighs.
“Miss Waterstone,” the policewoman said, and she turned back to see naked legs before her. The policewoman had removed her trousers and panties, and Leslie saw that she had unbuttoned her shirt as well, revealing too fantastically large breasts that had not a hint of sag in them.
“Wow,” Leslie whispered, her eyes drawn to Officer Barnes’ amazing breasts.
“Thank you, Miss Waterstone,” the policewoman replied. “But your attention will be focused a little lower than that.”
“Oh,” Leslie said, dragging her eyes down the policewoman’s admittedly arousing body. A hard stomach, wonderfully narrow waist, wide hips… a bald mound. The policewoman came forward a little, bending her knees so that her cunt was just inches from Leslie’s face.
“You’re going to make me come,” she said, and her hand shot out to grip the back of Leslie’s head. “Do you know how to lick pussy?”
“Uh,” Leslie said, thinking back to when she’d tried it once. But only once. It just wasn’t as satisfying as sucking on a cock. “Yeah,” she said anyway.
“Good, then,” Officer Barnes said before plunging Leslie’s face onto her quivering clitoris.
“Mm,” Leslie moaned, feeling the hardened stub pressed up against her lips, and she let it into her mouth and began licking in slow circles around the policewoman’s hood.
“That’s right,” Officer Barnes said. “Keep going.” Leslie nodded and began to suck harder on the clitoris, larger than her own. She could faintly taste the policewoman’s juices, and with her nose pressed against the smooth skin of her mount, could faintly smell her too. Leslie recalled that the first time she had done it, it hadn’t been as much of an issue as she had thought it would be. Now, Leslie was convinced that, actually, a woman’s smell was something entirely sexy. She had smelled herself many times, either on her fingers or on the mouths and cocks of her lovers. But, smelling another woman, especially once as domineering as Officer Barnes, was intoxicating in a completely different way.
Flesh: Alpha Males and Taboo Tales Page 20