I'm driving, well, speeding really, down a lonely country road. There are no other cars around, so I start to go a little faster. It's a beautiful day and my windows are down and the radio is up loud. So it takes me a minute to realize that the car coming up behind me has turned on its flashing blue and red lights. I feel a knot form in my stomach and I grip the steering wheel tighter as I slow my car down. The flashing lights get closer, and I start to pull my car to the side of the road.
When I stop the car, I look up in my rear view mirror, and see the door of the police car open. Out steps a tall man in uniform, complete with mirrored sunglasses and and a riot baton. I start to breathe faster, and my palms feel slick on the steering wheel. I'm incredibly nervous. I can't afford another speeding ticket.
As the officer reaches my window, I press the button to roll it down.
"Do you know why I pulled you over?" he asks, looking down at me from behind his sunglasses.
"Umm, no sir?" I reply, nervousness making me a horrible liar. There's what feels like an infinite silence while he just looks at me.
"I don't believe you. I think you know perfectly well you were going 75 in a 55 mile zone."
I look up at him and my next lie dies on my lips. "Yes sir," I say shakily.
I see just the hint of a smile on his lips before he takes a step back and says, "Step out of the car, please."
My hands trembling, I unfasten my seat belt. And slowly open the car door and swing my legs around to the ground, revealing my outfit to him. I'm wearing a short swingy skirt that catches in the breeze as I stand up. My nipples are visible beneath my pale pink tank top. He takes a step towards me and looks down, removing his sunglasses to look me in the eye.
"You shouldn't lie," he says. As I look up at him, my breath comes faster and shallower and my hands clench.
"I'm sorry," is all I can think to say.
He looks at me another moment, and then says, "Walk to the front of the car, and put your hands on the hood."
He waits for me, as I'm frozen for a minute, and then I haltingly make my way to the front of the car, leaning down to place both hands on the hood. I can feel the heat radiating from him as he steps behind me. He's so close, I'd only have to lean back a little to touch him, and I have the crazy desire to do so. As the image slides through my head, I feel his hands come down on my shoulders, and I inhale sharply. I feel his breath in my ear, as he leans in and says, "You're dressed like a slut. Do you know what men will think when they see you?"
I can say nothing in response, only moan slightly through clenched lips as a drags his hands lower, along the side of my breasts, over my waist, to my hips. He grips my hips tightly and says, "Answer me."
"Yes, I mean no, I mean.....what?" I can't even remember what he asked, the word slut still ringing in my ears. Is that why I wore this? Is that what I want people to think? My brain is screaming, No, what the fuck are you doing? Why are you letting him talk to you this way? But another part of me, deeper and darker, is dieing to know what will happen next.
"Do you know men will think you're a slut when they see you dressed in tight tops and short skirts?" he asked again. "Is that what you want?"
"I don't know," I breathe.
"I think you do like it," he whispers into my ear. His hands slide back up to my breasts and his fingers slide around my nipples, now rock hard and straining against the thin fabric of my shirt. I gasp and then moan and the only word I can think of is, "Yes."
He pinches my nipples between his strong fingers and my head falls back onto his shoulder, as I let out another breathy moan. His fingers squeeze harder for a second, before releasing me and moving down my stomach, down my thighs, to the edge of my skirt. His hands circle my thighs and slide up over my skirt to my ass.
"What do you have on under here?"
"Underwear?" I say hesitatingly.
"Be descriptive."
"Umm, they're a white thong with pale blue trim."
"Are you telling the truth?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to check."
"Yes," I can barely form the word as I feel him return his hands to the edge of the front of my skirt and start to raise it. He moves it up slowly, exposing me to the air and sunlight. When he has the skirt bunched at my waist, he looks down over my shoulder and I can feel him smile.
"Good girl," he says, "Always tell me the truth."
"Yes."
"Yes......" he trails off expectantly.
"Yes, Sir," I reply.
"Come with me," he says as he takes my hand and moves us around to the other side of the car, allowing us a tiny illusion of privacy. He takes my face in his hands and pushes his thumb into my mouth. I moan around it as he slides it in and out, my tongue licking along it.
"This is what I could do to you, " he says, "What I will do to you. In your mouth..."
He leans closer, "In your pussy."
Closer, "In your ass."
All I can do is let out a ragged breath and let me head fall onto his hand.
"You just have to ask me," he says.
"Ask you?"
"Yes, you have to tell me what you want."
