The Lady Cop Taught Me

I'd had a few beers too many at the summer festival, and was in dire need of facilities so I could make room for more beer. Or so I thought. The lines for the port-o-cans stretched endlessly, and quite frankly I wasn't sure I could wait that long just to stand in a foul smelling plastic cubicle. I wandered off the main boulevard of the street fair and down a narrow alley. Finding an overflowing dumpster at the dead-end, I was satisfied I was far enough from the crowd to take care of my business without offending anyone.

As I finished and gave a little shake, I heard the crunch of gravel on the pavement behind me. Before I could get everything packed away where it belonged, a hand grabbed my left shoulder and spun me around, bringing me face to forehead with one of the city's finest. The blue uniform and the glint of the silver badge captured my attention. Mumbling incoherently, I fumbled to stuff my stuff back into my jeans. "You're under arrest," she barked, snapping a steel bracelet around my wrist. "Public indecency, public intoxication, lewd and lascivious behavior." And as I attempted to protest she added, "And resisting arrest." She spun me around and locked my wrists behind my back, my unit still dangling from my fly.

Gripping my elbow with one hand and twisting the cuffs painfully with the other, she pushed me toward the patrol car idling at the mouth of the alleyway. She shoved me roughly into the back-seat, slammed the door and climbed in behind the wheel. Keying the mic, she gave the code to the dispatcher that she would be out of service for a while, then turned to face me.

"Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way," she sneered. "It's up to you."

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was my distrust of law enforcement in general. Or maybe it was plain old macho attitude prevailing now that I'd had a chance to look at her and consider the situation. After all, there I sat handcuffed in the back of a squad car, my noodle hanging out for all the world to see, enough alcohol in my system to ensure a night in the drunk tank and a cute little redheaded lady cop was trying to intimidate me. Whatever it was that possessed me to do it, I chose the wrong answer.

"It looks to me like the choice is really up to you, not me. You're the one with the definite advantage here," I smirked.

A flush spread quickly over her lightly freckled cheeks and she snapped back, "It looks like you need a lesson in manners and respect for a police officer!"

With that she slammed the car into gear and with tires squealing, raced east toward the old warehouse district, not in the direction of the city jail. I watched her face in the rearview mirror and saw her jaw clenching as the wheels in her mind spun faster than the ones beneath us. She had plans for me I could only imagine, and I began to think I'd made a big mistake with my glib response.

Turning down another alley between abandoned warehouse buildings, my fear began to mount. The Houston Police Department had been accused before on numerous occasions of beating and sometimes killing suspects. By the time we'd screeched to a stop at the end of a blind alley, I had become more than a little nervous about her intent.

She removed the keys from the ignition as she stepped out, and slipped her baton into her belt. That motion itself didn't seem to bode well for me, and I balked at her order to get out of the car when she opened the back door. Grabbing me by my still exposed genitalia and jerking it roughly she spat, "I told you to get out of the fucking car. You're going to learn to obey a police officer when she tells you to do something."

The pain was excruciating yet at the same time scintillating. Though the action itself was rough, the smooth, soft texture of her small hand brought about an embarrassing reaction. As blood began to engorge it, I knew she felt the involuntary twitching of my member. Her grip changed almost imperceptibly and so did her demeanor. I could feel her squeezing and loosening her grip ever so slightly, helping to pump it to full erection.

"So you like being treated rough," her voice became husky and not so sharp. "Well, that's good, because you're in for some rough times. I'm going to punish you myself -- save the taxpayers a little money -- and at the same time teach you a little respect for the badge."

Still gripping my now throbbing tool, she led me through a steel door into one of the old warehouses. Scattered rays of light crept in through broken window panes on the upper level and left patches of the floor eerily illuminated. In the center of the main warehouse area, the hook from an old chain hoist dangled six feet above the floor. Below it in the dust and cobwebs sat a rusty steel workbench.

"This is our substation interrogation room," she breathed in my ear. "It's where we bring those we think can be rehabilitated without being processed into the system."

She released my now raging hardon and pushed me face forward over the table. Dragging the hook down while feeding the chain back up into the hoist, she hooked it on the cuffs behind my back and pulled the chain back up. It pulled my arms up behind me, forcing my face down onto the table and me up onto my toes. She stopped just short of dislocating my shoulders. Then she unsnapped my jeans and jerked them down around my ankles.

"Now, let's start with the basics. I am in charge here, and you will address me as "my master." Do you understand that?" She had pulled her baton from her belt and rapped it menacingly into the palm of her other hand.

"Yes."

"No!" She slapped the head of my straining cock with the nightstick. "Yes, my master!"

"Yes, my master," I gasped.

"Much better," she said, and began to remove her holster. "And do you know why I have to discipline you?"

"No."

She gave my cock another thump with the stick.

"No, my master!" I rushed to correct my omission.

"Because you don't respect the law. You're a dirty piece of trash who has no manners and no respect for the law or the people who enforce it." She laid her gun belt on the far end of the workbench and began unbuttoning her blouse. "Now what are you and why are you here?"

I hesitated, and she raised her baton, taking aim at my organ once again. "I'm a dirty piece of trash who has no respect for the law, my master!" I blurted

"Very good," she cooed. "You're a fast learner. There may be some hope for you." She placed her blouse atop her holster and unclasped the closure on the front of her lacy, white bra. From the corner of my eye I watched the two beautiful, ripe melons spill free from their restraint and jiggle softly in the scattered light. slipping the bra from her shoulders, she tossed it carelessly atop her blouse.

She caught me staring at her gorgeous breast, and lightly tapping her nightstick against the underside of my prick, she whispered, "You like my tits?" "Yes, my master."

"You'd really like to rub that greasy little cock of yours between them, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, my master."

"Well, you're shit out of luck, fuckwad," she hissed, and gave my dick another sharp rap with her stick. She stepped back from the table with a smirk, and kicked off her shiny black cop shoes. Making sure she was just on the edge of my sight, she began teasingly, tauntingly removing her navy serge police trousers. Stepping forward to lay them across the rest of her uniform she exposed two perfectly rounded milky white cheeks, framed by navy blue thigh high stockings and bisected by a tiny red thong. She turned to face me directly so I wouldn't miss anything as she slowly, tantalizingly slid the thong down her smoothly muscled thighs.

My mouth hung agape as I stared helplessly at the most beautiful, hairless muff I'd ever seen. Between the slick, pink lips protruded a clitoris nearly as large as the entire last joint of my little finger. I felt a new surge of blood to my organ.

"What are you staring at, scumbag?" she demanded. "Haven't you ever seen a bald pussy before?"

I didn't care what game she was playing, I told her the truth. "None as delicious as that one."

She gave my unit another jab, but without near the vitriol as she barked, "My Master."

"Most certainly, my master," I slobbered. "I'd be happy to be a slave to a tasty cunt like that."

She smacked my cock again, with renewed vengeance. "You don't seem to be learning respect! I guess it's time for lesson number two." With that she grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head back. When I yelped in pain, she jammed her baton into my mouth. Holding my head immobile by my hair, she began pushing the nightstick in and out of my mouth. "Now it's time for you to suck a hard one," she said. "You have quite a mouth on you. let's see you use it for something besides spewing shit." She pumped the club in and out of my mouth, all the time leering at me to "Suck it! Suck it fuckwad. Give me a good demonstration of how to suck cock."

When I tried to resist, she pushed it deeper into my throat, choking me. "Suck it right or you'll deep throat it all the way down to your scrawny little balls!"

I did my best, having never performed fellatio before, trying to avoid being choked to death by her hickory dildo. Satisfied that I was submitting once again, she pulled the club from my mouth and stared at it's saliva covered end.

"You have to learn respect," she said. "Now you're probably thinking that if you could get loose, you'd shove that sorry little cock of yours down my throat, or up my ass. Aren't you?"

When I hesitated to answer, she jerked my head and shoved the stick back into my mouth. As best I could, I shook my head and tried to spit out, "No, my master."

"No?" she asked incredulously "No, you wouldn't want to stick me with your puny little dick? What are you, a faggot?" Before I could respond she continued. "Well that's too bad, cause then you'll probably enjoy lesson number three."

She stepped quickly behind me, and before I registered the touch of her fingers, she spread my buttocks and began pushing the spit covered stick against my anus. I struggled to no avail. My precarious position, hanging from the hook and pressed to the table, prevented any escape from the invading probe.

"Please, my master! I'm not gay, and I'm begging you not to do that!"

"Then lesson number three will be a very important one for you," she said, inching the stick deeper into my virgin orifice. "You slimy dicked motherfuckers think you can just jam your little pricks into any hole you want to, and so long as you get your nut, everything is just fine." She began an in and out motion that though terribly uncomfortable, every now and then sent a spasm of pleasure and caused my dick to twitch. "You think you can just poke it in and go to town, and then we're supposed to enjoy it." Her thrusting of the nightstick became more rapid and more violent. "Well here's news, asshole. It's time you start thinking about the one on the receiving end." By now her thrusting had become frenzied and quite painful.

"Please, my master," I panted. "I understand. I know better. Please stop!"

She paused in her frantic buggering and queried, "You understand? You know better? You who stared at my pussy with your mouth hanging open, wanting nothing more than to jump on my bones and start rutting away? You know better?"

"I wasn't thinking of poking you, my master. I was thinking of licking you. Honestly. The sight of your pussy made me want to stick my tongue in you, to suck your clit until your nose bleeds. Please, my master, no more with the stick."

She let the stick slip slowly from my violated hole, and stepped back around in front of me. "So you wanted to lick my pussy, did you?" a smile crept across her face. "Well now, you're really in luck." She climbed agilely up onto the table and sat between me and her uniform. "Because lesson number four is exactly that. If you do it right, I'll let you go. If you don't make me cum, who knows how long it might be before anybody finds your rotting carcass."

She slid her bottom forward until my nose touched her shiny, hairless mons. I could smell the sweet scent of her womanhood. Like an accusing finger, her giant, swollen clit pointed at me. Her labia glistened with moisture. The reaming she'd given me with the nightstick had excited her immensely, and her pussy was damp with arousal.

My fear abated. I was on my own turf now. This was what I knew best. This was what I loved best. Slowly and ever so softly I let the tip of my tongue dance across the tender crease of flesh between thigh and labia. Circling, darting and dodging, making minimal contact, I teased all around her vulva. She lay back upon her bunched up uniform and watched with hooded eyes. To her perineum and around the labia majora I stroked and tickled. I teased and taunted threatening the small inner lips then retreating as they twitched in anticipation. Her hips began to undulate, slowly, almost imperceptibly. The more I teased, the more she moved, trying to catch the elusive butterfly flitting so near yet always escaping.

A soft moaning mounted from deep in her throat, and more fluid oozed from her snatch. Her hips rolled as she tried to catch my tongue. Her vulva began to quiver, opening and closing, beckoning an entrance of something, anything. Her hands swept across her breasts, alternately squeezing and caressing until they found their way to her nipples. She tickled and teased the aureola and pinched her nipples, pink and erect like pencil erasers.

Her moaning grew louder and her breath ragged. She was teetering close to the edge. I drew my head back and asked the question to which I already knew the answer, "Are you ready to cum, my master?"

"Yes, yesss! Don't talk! Suck! Suck my pussy!

I nipped at the swollen inner lips. Her hips bucked and her breath caught in her throat. She was ready and I knew it. I plunged my tongue as deep as I could into her vagina and curved the tip up, dragging it slowly across her g-spot. Her hips thrashed wildly now as I plunged my tongue in and out, pausing only to roll it back and forth and round and round over the quarter sized lump of flesh deep inside the front of her cooze.

Her orgasm built in waves and her feet flailed wildly in the air. She grabbed my head with both hands and ground my face into her spasming cunt, and I had to fight for air. Liquid gushed from her boiling cooze, drenching my face and dripping from my chin, and still I plunged on. Her breath came in gasps, and her moans had turned to screams.

"Oh yes!" she screamed. "That's it! Fuck me with your tongue, you fucking cunt licker! Deeper! Deeper! Harder! Oh yesss!" Her screams degenerated into unintelligible, animal howls. The walls of her pussy contracted and opened, contracted and opened, squeezing my tongue like a milking machine as her orgasm peaked and crested.

I slowed the rhythm and depth of my tongue thrusts as her orgasm subsided until I was once again lightly licking the quivering inner lips of her dripping cunt. Her ankles crossed behind my neck, I both saw and felt the taut muscles of her thighs begin to relax. Her body shivered in post orgasmic ecstasy. She gulped air and her magnificent chest heaved up and down. Her fingers played idly in my hair.

When her breathing slowed to deep, quiet sighs, I knew it was time once again to turn up the heat. The first time around I had deliberately ignored her magnificent clitoris, concentrating instead on her vulva and g-spot. Now it was time to really make her cum. I sped up the little circular licks on her labia and began to slightly increase the pressure once again, occasionally allowing the tip of my tongue to brush quickly around the base of her clit.

The first time I touched her little soldier standing at attention, her body jerked and her fingers dug into my scalp. More and more I let my tongue caress the bright, pink nub straining out from under it's hood, and less and less I licked her pussy lips. Her hips rotated and rolled, trying to force her miniature prick into contact with it's tormentor. Again her breathing became labored as she climbed closer to the peak, and her voice became feral as she demanded I take her over the edge.

"Lick my clit! Lick it now!" she growled, pulling my head into her and pushing her cunt into my mouth.

I opened my mouth wide, covering her pussy so that I still had control over the contact between her clit and my tongue. I flicked it teasingly with just the tip until I knew she was just to the breaking point. Her thighs clamped tight around my head, her fingers pulled at my hair and her hips ground her pussy up and down against my mouth. It was time.

Wrapping my tongue around her massive clit, I sucked it in and out between my lips and rolled it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Like a crystal goblet dropped from a height, she shattered into millions of sparkling shards.

"Oh God! Yes! Yes! Yess! Suck my clit! Suck my clit! Suck it you cuntsucker! Suck it! Suck it! Suhhhh! Her words dissipated into screams, grunts and moans of pure animal pleasure. And just as she broke over the peak, I gave her incredible clit a little bite. Not hard, but enough to send an electrical charge back to her brain that pushed the orgasm on and on.

She bucked and ground and drove her cunt against my face. It was time for one more goody from my bag of tricks. I let loose the big little man in the boat and dropped my face lower. Pushing the bridge of my nose against her clit to keep up the pressure and the rolling orgasm, I took a deep breath and buried my tongue as far as it would go in her anus.

Pushing my tongue in and out with my face buried in her cunt, rubbing my nose in a circular motion against her clit, she came and came again.

When at last her screams died out and I pulled my face from her burning snatch, she lay semicomatose on the bench before me, her entire body shivering and shaking as if racked by seizure. I felt good. I felt vindicated. I felt justified. And I felt drained.

My arms ached. My neck was stiff. My asshole burned from the earlier assault. And my hardon still raged. A river of pre-cum had seeped out. My cock glistened with it, and a small puddle of drips had collected on the floor at my feet. She began to stir. She sat up and pushed her silky red hair from her face where it had fallen, twisted and disheveled from her thrashing about.

With much more effort and much more shakily, she dismounted the bench. Studying me closely she hoarsely whispered, "Well I guess you've already learned lesson number four."

I smiled as innocently as I could, "The pop quiz was a little rough, but I do enjoy practicing."

A frown wrinkled her brow and I quickly added, "My master."

"Maybe you've learned a little something more," she acknowledged. "And because you did do such a fine job with lesson number four, I'm going to give you a little reward."

She stepped behind me once again and I half hoped and half expected to hear the chain hoist and feel the relief of being freed. Instead I felt her soft warm breasts pressing against my lower back. Her right hand snaked around my waist and wrapped gently around my slickened cock. The index finger of her left hand found it's way into my raw and aching anus. But this time the probing didn't feel so invasive. Partly because her finger was much smaller than the nightstick that had previously invaded, partly because she was much more gentle with her finger than she'd been with the baton, and partly because she knew just where to massage with that finger, it was a much more pleasant experience.