Summary:
19-year-old woman seduces and dominates an ice queen cop.
Note 1:
Thanks to
Bad Steve
for the original idea and
Jedd
for the additional plot suggestions that finally got this story written.
Note 2:
In 2015, thanks to Robert, goamz86 and Karl for editing this story. In early 2019, thanks to Tex Beethoven for helping me add a fresh coat of polish.
Note 3:
This story stands on its own, but if you want to read more BREE stories, check out the following (listed in chronological, not date published, order):
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Pre-MILF (in Bree's senior year of high school)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Mom (late in her senior year)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Neighbor (late in her senior year)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Chocolate (immediately following Neighbor)
Lesbian MILF
Seductress: Bakery (a couple weeks after Neighbor & Chocolate)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: 30
th
B'day (late summer, last weekend before her beginning college)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Secret Santa (during her first year of college)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Nurse (during her first and third year of college)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Cop (summer after her first year of college)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Pop Star (summer between sophomore and junior years of college)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Church Mom (immediately after Pop Star)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Spa (during the beginning of her junior year)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Bride (End of third year of college)
Lesbian MILF Seductress: In Flight (summer job after college)
*****
Lesbian MILF Seductress: Cop
I pulled over the Corvette for going 50 in a 35-mph zone. It was the last hour of my shift and I was already tired and rather bitchy.
I reached the car and was surprised when the woman in the driver's seat was only a teenager; I sighed to myself, just knowing this had to be another pretentious, privileged rich kid. The second surprise came when I bent down to see who else was in the car. In the passenger seat was a woman probably in her forties, her skirt hiked up, fucking herself with an old-fashioned pop bottle. The woman kept her head down, either ashamed to be caught in such a compromising pursuit, or so into her own pleasure she was oblivious to my presence.
I cleared my throat to get her attention, but she didn't even slow down as she was really pumping the bottle in and out of her cunt, her moans communicating to me that she was nearing orgasm.
The young blonde driver explained, as one adult to another, although I doubted she even was one, "Sorry, officer, my pet is being punished for not listening properly."
I stammered, shocked by her words, "P-p-pardon?"
"She's still a submissive in training, and sometimes she thinks she has some say in our..." she paused, looking for the right word, "...activities."
"Ma'am, would you please stop doing that?" I requested. I'd seen many strange things in my fifteen years on the force, including many girls giving men head, a couple of guys giving other guys head, a few backseat rendezvous, and once a woman bound in the back seat on her way to a BDSM party. (After her... keepers?... had removed her ball gag, she'd managed to convince me there was nothing wrong, she was having the time of her life.) But this was a new one. The boys at the precinct were going to love this story.
The woman ignored me and her moans kept increasing.
The young woman, whose crystal blue eyes drew me in, explained, "She only answers to me, officer."
"Then could you request her to stop?" I asked, the question absurd, considering I was the police officer here.
"Sure, officer, since you asked so nicely and you're so cute," she smiled, her tone flirtatious and confident. I'd been hit on by many women over the years, but I wasn't a lesbian, and the ploy had seldom if ever worked to get someone out of a ticket. The young woman snapped her fingers, and immediately the other women stopped, the bottle still deep inside her, her breathing erratic.
I was distracted. I was still stunned by what I was witnessing, and was also curious about the power this young woman had over the older, business dressed, attractive woman.
I asked, "Could you ask her to take the bottle out?"
"Out where? Do you mean on a date?" The young woman grinned, clearly having fun with the situation.
"Out of her vagina," I said, trying to maintain my professionalism.
"Oh dear, officer, my slut doesn't even
have
a vagina, do you slut?" she responded.
The older woman, still not making eye contact with anyone replied, "No, Mistress. I'm a slut, so I have a cunt."
"Or?" The young woman questioned.
"A pussy, a slut box, a twat..." the older woman added.
"Okay," I said firmly. "Young lady, will you kindly have your... person... remove the bottle from her... her... whatever you want to call it?" My growing exasperation had led me into an attempt at formality, but the situation was presenting a few stumbling blocks to my... umm... semantics.
"Take it out slut, and don't forget to clean the cunt juice off your fake cock," the young lady ordered, in language probably not suitable for an audience with the Queen.
Immediately, the older woman pulled the bottle out of her vagina (or whatever) and put the long bottleneck in her mouth.
I gasped.
"Sorry, officer, she's still learning, but she'll eventually make a very good submissive yet," the young woman apologized, acting embarrassed by the older woman's ineptitude at sucking a bottle properly. What the hell would
properly
look like?
"License and registration, ma'am," I asked, unable not to watch the sexual train wreck happening in right front of me.
"Ma'am, I like that," she chuckled, "I'm used to a different 'M' word, aren't I slut?"
"Yes, Mistress," the older woman nodded, clearly embarrassed.
Trying to remain focused, even though the strange submission was turning me on slightly... I hadn't gotten laid in a couple of months... I repeated, "License and registration, Mi-am." I caught myself from saying 'Mistress' just in time. My face flushed at the near error.
The young lady (?) unfortunately noticed my almost slip of the tongue. "Mi-am, that's a new one," she said with a smile, her hypnotic blue eyes piercing into me. "What seems to be the problem, officer?" she asked ever so innocently.
I paused a second, unable to break free of her eye contact, but I finally responded, "You were going fifty in a thirty-five zone."
"I was?" she asked innocently.
"Yes," I said.
"I'm so sorry. The car is new and, well, it
is
built for speed," she explained.
"Regardless, ma'am, I need your license and registration," I repeated, getting frustrated.