Author's note:
The inspiration for this should be fairly obvious. I wanted to play with that idea, and see where it lead if we assume the exception-al (an interesting word, that, if you consider the root word) to be everyday.
And I also wanted to say that no matter what your perversion, fetishists are people too.
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The policewoman's stare bored into him.
He felt his initial cockiness whither and dropped his gaze.
"No, miss," he mumbled at his feet.
"I can't hear you," she said acidly.
"No, I don't think I deserve special rules, miss," he said even more miserably, in the face of her violet-wand glare.
"I'm glad to hear it," she snapped. "You've been selfish, little boy. Spread your legs and bend over."
By now quite a crowd had gathered, and he felt his cheeks burning with shame as he unbuckled his belt, pushed his pants and his shorts down his legs and bent forwards, grabbing his ankles.
He did his best to shut out the ribald comments from the crowd as the policewoman, her underbust corset creaking, moved around to his side.
He saw her black, stiletto-heel thigh boots come into his vision and settle into a stable position.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
*THWACK*
She had a strong arm, and the first blow of the truncheon made him jump, but he managed to bite his lip to avoid crying out.
*THWACK*
*THWACK*
Ten strikes landed on his buttocks before she stopped, reached between his legs and seized his hard cock and his balls, her leather gloves cool against him.
"That was a warning," she hissed. "Don't let me catch you again."
Then she jerked and he came, splashing onto his upside-down face.
She stalked away, boots clicking on the pavement, to where her catcher squatted obediently with his leash between his teeth.
She took the leash and zipped up his mouth and stalked off down the street, her catcher padding after her in his running shoes, cycling shorts, chest harness and gimp mask.
Robert slumped to the side of the pavement dejectedly, his now shrivelled cock limp between his legs, as the crowd dissipated.
Suddenly a hand grabbed his chin. He got a glimpse of predatory dark eyes rimmed with black, nose and lip piercings and spiky hair before she licked his cum off his face, slowly and possessively.
Then she stood up, showing him a net body stocking, no bra over small and pert breasts, a leather g-string and even taller boots than the policewoman had worn.
"You're cumming home with me," she said, looking down at him. "Pull your pants up."
#
Officer Chris was tired and grumpy when she had finished the last of her paperwork and headed into the locker room at the end of her shift.
That little toe-rag of a jaywalker had been typical of her day, and the day had been typical of her week.
She took her belt off and hung it inside her locker, then her catcher loosened her corset before stripping off his own uniform to change into his almost identical street clothes.
Her torso ached with the corset off, which just meant she needed a good long soak in a hot bath. Or a good long something.
Her kid-leather catsuit zipped up the back, but she could get that herself.
She had peeled off her uniform bra (antibacterial and moisture-wicking) and was unscrewing the studs in her nipples when her boss entered and leaned against the lockers with his arms crossed.
She pulled out the first stud, began on the second, and just waited.
"Talk to me," he said.
"Grumpy, frustrated and tired," she said shortly.
"Need a holiday?"
"Need a case." She fished her normal piercings out of her jewelry box, pulled out her left nipple and carefully pushed it through.
Captain Collerton nodded. He hadn't forgotten the tedium of the beat.
"I think you deserve it," he said. "I'll bear you in mind. Go home, have a drink."
"Intend to, sir." She clipped up her second piercing and bent down to peel off her uniform panties.
She straightened up to give the captain a kiss, leaning her naked body into him, before he went back to his office.
Then she bent to replace the uniform stud in her clitoris.
"Afternoon, Chris."
She glanced up at the new arrival, who was peeling his latex shirt over his head. "Afternoon, Michael."
"Anything been happening?"
"Sweet fuck bugger all," she said as she pulled her leather panties out of her locker.
"I hear you," he said, stripping off his microshorts. "Hey, look what Richard got me!"
She looked up at the sudden enthusiasm in his voice. His prince Albert piercing had been replaced by a gleaming silver shaft with a ruby in the end.
"That's lovely!" she exclaimed, genuinely. "He hasn't..."
"Yes!" Michael almost squealed. "We're getting married!"
"Oh Michael, that's fabulous news, congratulations!" she embraced him tightly, then kissed him briefly but hard. "I'm so happy for you!"
Michael looked as though he wouldn't stop grinning for a week as he continued dressing for his shift.
#
In the absence of legal personal transport within the city, the police managed to bend the rules by running strictly informal shuttle runs with vehicles on the way to new beats or posts, so Chris and her catcher could get a lift almost all the way home and didn't have to put up with the public they had just been policing.
She felt bone-weary as she walked through her door, and began peeling her latex dress off as she walked straight to the bathroom.
"Undress," she said without turning around. "I need a wash."
Without his gimp mask, Chris' catcher had a strong and handsome face that matched his lean sprinter's body. He also had a worshipful look in his eyes as he followed the now naked Chris towards the shower.
She viciously yanked the shower's single handle on, twisting it towards hot.
It didn't need time to heat up and she stepped straight in, tugging off her hair band as she stood under the punishing spray, tossing it carelessly out onto the floor.
She stood facing into the corner of the shower recess, leaning in with her hands high on the wall and her feet spread wide.
Standing behind her, his cock helplessly erect, her catcher poured body wash onto a synthetic loofah and began vigorously rubbing her back.
It had taken her some time to bend her catcher's conditioning enough to get him to be properly vigorous, but it had been worth it. He didn't stop until her skin was pink from more than just the heat of the shower.
After her back he worked his way up and down her arms, then her legs, then stepped forwards until his cock was resting between her arse cheeks and, reaching around her, did first her belly then each breast, before moving down to her groin.
As he went on her arousal grew, and when he left her breasts her hands were curling into claws against the wall.
It only took a few passes before she came with a deep, long, shuddering groan in her throat.
When he stepped back and she turned the water off, his cock almost glowed red.
"Wall," she ordered.
Eagerly, he adopted the position she had been in while she quickly and efficiently strapped a dildo on, the water pooling about her feet.
She fucked him brutally, her fingers clawing into the skin of his hips, and it took less than a minute for him to violently spend himself on the tiled wall.
She left him to clean up with his tongue while she took off the dildo, tossed it into the clothes hamper, grabbed a bathrobe and headed out, letting warmth and the robe dry her off.
She went straight to the kitchen, a vague thought of a tajine growing in her head.
She unwrapped her precious knives, paying little attention as he came out of the bathroom and pulled the treadmill out of its niche in the wall.