Lessons in Service

He Makes Me Feel Like a New Woman

Chapter 5: Lessons in Service

"I haven't done anything wrong" Emily protested from the back of the police car. She thought her voice sounded whiny and pathetic as she said it, and she was sure it wouldn't convince the officers to let her go.

The officer in the passenger seat turned around and fixed her with a dull stare devoid of any sympathy or understanding. His gaze drifted from her pleading face, desperate and on the edge of tears, down to her exposed breasts. With her hands cuffed behind her back, Emily was almost forced to thrust out her chest, putting her firm, round fake tits on display. She was topless when they had pulled her out of the bar, and they hadn't given her anything else to wear. They hadn't even let her clean the cum off of her tits or her chin.

She looked down and to the side, letting her lavender hair fall over her face to shield her from the officer's stare. As she looked down, she re-appraised the rest of her own outfit.

She was wearing denim hot pants she had made from a pair of old mom jeans. To make them form-fitting, she had cut them up both sides and added laces, showing off a tempting strip of skin on each of her hips. They were short enough and tight enough that if she didn't constantly adjust them her labia would peek out from the bottom, and she was aware that it was visible now, rubbing on the vinyl seat of the police car.

She was also wearing black fishnet stockings that came up to lacy bands on her thighs. On her feet were clear plastic platform high heels. They were a gift from Rob, one of the regulars at her favorite bar, who told her she would look good in stripper heels. She found them awkward to walk in and thought her tall frame didn't need the added height, but she did love the way they looked and enjoyed the wobbly, precarious feeling of being fucked from behind while she was wearing them.

She knew she looked like a prostitute. When she looked at herself in the mirror these days she wondered if she would be an expensive prostitute, and she was less and less horrified by those thoughts each day. She doubted she could convince the officers she wasn't a hooker, that she just liked to dress like this and have sex with a lot of different guys in public places.

Emily's mind went back to her Master. She couldn't remember anything about his physical appearance except for his gorgeous, perfect cock. As she remembered it now she felt herself becoming aroused and squirmed in her seat, trying to adjust the hot pants that had climbed up into the crack of her moistening pussy.

When she had met Master on the subway three weeks before he had been with a gorgeous blonde in an indecently revealing outfit who went by the improbable name of Fuckdoll. Emily assumed she was a sex worker when she saw the blonde fucking Master on the subway without any apparent shame. Emily realized the outfit she was wearing now made Fuckdoll's look modest by comparison. She was sure she looked even more like a whore when she was getting gangbanged in the bar night after night.

Emily looked out the window and saw that they were getting on the highway, heading north from Boston.

"Where are you taking me?" The officers ignored her question.

As the car accelerated to highway speed she tried again. "Aren't you supposed to take me to the police station? Why are we leaving town?"

The officer in the passenger seat turned around and spoke to her again, "look, sweetie, one of two things can happen now. One: we can process you through the system and make your life real, real bad. Two: we can take you up to a little party we're having and you can work off your debt to society." His eyes never left her tits the whole time he was talking to her. "What do you think? You want option number one or option number two?"

Emily was too terrified to find any words in response, "I... I mean I... Well, I guess..."

"That's what I thought," the officer said as he turned back around. They drove on in silence.

*****

Emily passed the time on their long ride daydreaming. She was thinking about the men in her life. She thought back to the bar, and the feeling of being spit roasted while the regulars watched. She thought about the cute guy at her gym who liked to choke her during sex. She thought about the guy at the liquor store who was always telling her lies, as though he had to impress her before she would have sex with him. She even thought about her asshole neighbor Liam, and how she couldn't say no to his dick no matter how much she hated him. All of these memories were interspersed with thoughts of her Master's perfect cock, out there somewhere waiting for her.

Emily was uncomfortably horny. She squirmed in her seat, trying to find some way to masturbate with her hands cuffed behind her back. She was sure the officers in the front seat could smell her arousal, and she had seen the driver stealing glances at her in the rear-view mirror. She looked up at his reflection now, trying to look as seductive as she could manage. When he finally looked back, she licked her lips, showing him her lavender tongue stud.

"I'm going to pull over up here," the driver said to the other officer, pointing to a sign for a highway rest stop.

The parking lot was mostly empty as the officers pulled their car around the back of the building. They both walked out, leaving the car idling. She saw them play a game of rock-paper-scissors, and from their expressions it looked like the officer who had been in the passenger seat won. The driver sat back down in his seat as the other officer opened her door and pulled her out. As the door was closing the driver said, "I'm serious - don't cum inside her. I hate sloppy seconds."

The officer led her around to the front of the car, and without a word he pushed her down onto the hood. Emily gasped and tried to stand up, shocked by the feeling of the hot metal on her bare nipples. She wasn't able to move much with her hands cuffed behind her back, but the officer still shoved her back down even harder.

He didn't even remove her shorts, he just snaked a finger around the thin strip of denim riding into her pussy and pulled it to the side. She felt relief having it out of her, then a deeper, more satisfying relief as she was filled with the officer's cock.

Emily didn't entirely understand her feelings. Before she met Master she could go for months at a time without having sex. She had even identified as asexual for a short while, but that was mostly to avoid having sex with her then-boyfriend. Most of the time she had viewed sex as a chore, and had said it was yet another societal expectation that the patriarchy had forced on women.

Since she met Master she felt differently. These days the idea that any man wouldn't want to have sex with her was enough to bring her to tears. She felt a deep sense of pride and satisfaction at being able to satisfy men. She had created for herself a regimen of diet and exercise designed to make her body more appealing to men, and had been learning to use makeup to make herself as attractive as possible. More than that, she craved cock constantly. She was sure she couldn't live without it.

"Take that, you fucking whore!" the officer spat at her. He pulled her back by her hair, lifting her off of the car's hood. By now she had started to adjust to the heat, and it was a small relief from the biting winter cold. When it was taken away from her she felt a shudder pass through her as her nipples quickly chilled in the air.

She couldn't stop herself from moaning with pleasure as the officer drove his dick deep inside of her, and she locked eyes with the driver while she did. The driver's hand was in his lap, and she could see his arm making rhythmic motions. Only a second later the officer fucking her froze, his whole body immobile except for his twitching, pulsing cock. She relished the feeling of being filled with warm semen and purred with satisfaction as he dropped her back on the hood and walked back to his seat in the car.

"Mike, you asshole!" the driver yelled a few seconds later as he bent down to inspect the semen leaking out of Emily. "I told you not to cum inside her!" The other officer, Mike, shrugged from his seat in the car.

Emily frowned. She had another Mike in her life - a bartender at her regular bar. He was sweet and handsome, and he made her feel special. The first night she had met Mike he watched her get gangbanged by seven men she had just met. Afterwards he made love to her in a way that made her feel the warm giddiness of a schoolgirl crush. Even the way he came on her face and had her walk home without cleaning it off seemed romantic, in its own way. She tried to avoid thinking about relationships and how she could have a boyfriend with her new lifestyle, but Mike was special to her. She was upset that the officer whose cum was leaking out of her shared the same name.

"Well," the other officer said, pulling Emily's hot pants down to her knees with one hard tug, "let's see what else we have to work with." He shoved one finger into her pussy, wiggling it back and forth. He removed the finger, slimy with officer Mike's cum, and started rubbing it on her asshole.

"Wait, no!" she exclaimed. Master had instructed her to save her anal virginity for him. She had been training herself with butt plugs to prepare for the day that her Master's perfect cock would penetrate her asshole, but he had been clear that she was forbidden to have anal sex with any other men until after that. A regular at her bar had briefly penetrated her asshole, but she hoped that didn't count.

The officer ignored her, pushing the tip of his finger into her asshole and sliding it back and forth. The overwhelming sensation took over Emily's body, and her knees buckled. She wasn't sure why she enjoyed the feeling of anal penetration, but it overwhelmed and consumed her every time. She felt every last ounce of reservation melt away and only managed to whimper out a quiet, plaintive, "please!"

The officer stopped moving his finger, but didn't remove it. "Please what?" he asked.

Emily had a moment of confusion. "Please, Sir?" she tried. When he didn't respond she realized he wanted something else and continued, "please, Sir, don't fuck my asshole. Please let me suck your cock instead. I promise I'll be a good little cocksucker for you. I've been practicing and..."

"Alright," he interrupted, sliding his finger out of her asshole. "You seem like a good kid, I'll cut you a break."

Emily was twenty-seven and wasn't used to being called a kid. She also wasn't sure whether anyone would consider what he was doing to be cutting her a break, but she didn't see any point in arguing. Instead she rolled off the hood of the car and struggled her way into a kneeling position.

Emily started kissing and licking the officer's cock. She dipped her head down to give the bottom of his cock a wet kiss, flicking her tongue over the area where the head met the shaft. The officer grunted with approval, and his cock stood up a little straighter.

"You know, I could do a better job if you took the handcuffs off," she tried, but the stony look he directed at her let her know that wouldn't happen.

She continued to work the shaft of his cock. She licked it in long sensual motions and slid her soft lips up and down its length. She teased and toyed with it until a glistening bead of precum started to emerge from the tip. She fixed him with a devilish smile as she flicked her tongue out to lap it up. She let out a satisfied moan, as though his precum was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted, before she engulfed the head of his cock with her mouth and started the blowjob in earnest.

She really had been practicing. She had been using dildos and real cocks as many times in a day as she could. She had also been studying porn to try to understand how women acted in men's sexual fantasies. She felt like she was improving, both in her technique and her ability to be exactly what men wanted her to be.

She was a little disappointed a few seconds later when the officer grabbed her hair and started fucking her face. Now she wouldn't be able to show him what she could do. Still, she was learning that there was a technique to being face fucked and she was improving at that too. She was getting better at holding her jaw loose and open. She was getting better at swallowing every time the cock hit her throat. At first she was self-conscious about the noises she made with this technique and the amount of saliva it produced, but she was learning that men liked it. She was even getting better at teasing the underside of a cock as it pumped in and out of her mouth, although that was hard to do with so many other things to concentrate on.

It wasn't long before the officer pushed her head all the way down onto his cock and came. She couldn't taste the semen because he came straight into the back of her throat, never touching her tongue, but she could feel the twitching pulse in his cock that was very familiar to her now. She gently teased the bottom of his cock, rolling her tongue stud over it, until he stopped and pulled out of her mouth. Her mouth was connected to his cock by a trail of viscous slobber that stretched out before falling down on her tits. The warmth of it felt nice for a moment, in contrast to the February cold stinging through her exposed body like knives.

As she caught her breath and swallowed, Emily realized that she had satisfied the officer using only her mouth. Her master had told her that before he saw her again she needed to orally satisfy twenty different strangers, bringing them to climax using only her mouth. She had been training to meet this goal, but this officer was only the second man she had managed to satisfy with only her mouth. Well, technically the third, but Mike the bartender didn't count because he had fucked her several times before she made him cum with her mouth for the first time.

Emily looked up at the officer, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude that she struggled to hold back, and said, "thank you."

The officer looked confused and uncomfortable as he pulled up his pants. "Uh, sure, whatever," he managed as he pulled her shorts back up and shoved her into the police car.

*****

Emily dozed off during the drive, waking to the sound of the car's tires crunching on a gravel driveway. They pulled up to the side of a large white manor home with columns decorating the front. The house was surrounded by a dense forest, and as the officers pulled Emily from the car she heard the sounds of chirping insects, owls, and other nature sounds her city upbringing hadn't prepared her to identify. The officers led her by moonlight to the back of the house, where they opened the double-doors of a cellar bulkhead and led her down into the dim white light of the basement.

Emily saw a large expanse of space crowded with stored items. There was old furniture, unlabeled boxes, cans of paint, scraps of lumber, a washer and dryer that looked like they had been made at least fifty years earlier, and an array of other items she didn't find important enough to recall. There were tower heaters burning kerosine and warming the space with a hiss and a faint acrid odor.

Past all of these they led her to an empty area with eight large metal dog cages in two rows of four and a floor covered in straw and sawdust. In the dim light it took Emily a minute to realize that the things she saw moving in two of the crates were other women.

"Why don't you just make yourself comfortable," officer Mike said as he removed her handcuffs, holding her tight by her elbow while he did it.

The other officer grabbed a ring of keys from the wall and used one to open the padlock on one of the crates. Officer Mike led her roughly to it and threw her inside.

"The party's not until tomorrow night. Until then, feel free to relax and make some new friends. I'm sure you ladies have a lot in common."

The crate wasn't tall enough for Emily to sit up, so she curled on her side in the itchy straw. She waited for something to happen - for someone to come, for one of the other women to speak, to fall asleep, to start to cry - but nothing at all happened. She lay on her side in the dim flickering light cast by the old fluorescent lights overhead, listening to the hiss of the heaters and the hum of the lights, and waited.

*****

Emily didn't know what time it was when the fourth girl was brought in. It was hard to mark time in this artificial environment. Uniformed police officers had come in to take the women in turns to the "bathroom" (which was just a bucket in the corner of the basement) twice, and had fed them a meal of one soggy hot dog and a cup of lukewarm water. Emily thought it must be the next day, but couldn't be sure.

"Fuck you, pig! I'll bite your fucking dick off!" Emily heard as two officers dragged a petite redhead into view. One officer threw her to the ground and placed a booted foot onto her upper back as he started to release her handcuffs. She pitched her body, causing him to stumble slightly. In response the other officer produced a stun gun from his belt and applied it to her ribcage with a pop and a smell of smoke. The redhead went limp, and the officers uncuffed her and threw her into one of the cages.

They started to leave, but the officer who had used the stun gun turned back around to address the other women. He pulled the nightstick from his belt and beat it on the bars of one of the cages, telling them, "you girls play nice, you hear? That," he said pointing to the redhead, "was us being gentle with a difficult whore, but we can get mean too if we want. You understand?"

He stood there for a few seconds, receiving no response. Then the officers left.

The redhead they had dragged in was short and gaunt and covered in freckles. She was wearing a tank top and baggy cargo pants. The track marks on her arms were obvious even to Emily's untrained eyes.

In the crate the officer hit with his nightstick was a thin asian woman. Her hair had been cut in a rough bob that had to be a home job. She wore a thin blue negligee, as if she had been dragged from her bedroom in the middle of the night. Emily thought that must be exactly what happened, but since the woman didn't speak English she couldn't be sure.

The last prisoner was Helen, a large black woman wearing a tube top and leopard-print stretch pants. Emily thought that Helen must weigh as much as the other three combined, but didn't express that thought out loud. Helen had a habit of mumbling to herself that Emily found off-putting, her words indistinguishable but her furious tone plain and clear.

*****

Time crept by.

When Emily asked the redhead her name, she only responded with, "Fuck You, that's my name!" Emily thought to herself that Fuck You wasn't any more improbable of a name than Fuckdoll, and her slight smile at that thought only further enraged the redhead.

The women had two more bathroom breaks and one more hotdog meal. The redhead tried to fight her way loose during the first bathroom break and was savagely beaten down by the officers. She was left with large purple bruises on her face, ribs, and one thigh, and at the next bathroom break she was left locked in her cage.

Finally, a group of about a dozen uniformed officers came down to prepare the women for the party. Emily noticed for the first time that they had different uniforms, in different cuts, different shades of blue or black, and with different equipment on their belts. These were a collection of officers from a variety of police offices. One thing they all had in common was that none of them had their name tags or badges displayed.

"Strip, whores!" an officer shouted at them.

Emily quickly stripped off her hotpants and started to undo the strap on one of her shoes. The same officer stopped her.