Tales of Haze 02: Police Mentality

New fun short set in Haze. It follows what passes for the law in a city of mystery, hypnotism and subtle urban sorceries. Enjoy.

*****

Jonas Art again tested the cuffs that kept him bound to the metal chair, and again found them secure. He sighed, leaning back in his seat and scanned the cold, sterile confines of the interrogation room. The two-way mirror reflected back a strong man with short cut hair in a jacket and shirt. Jonas smiled at his reflection and flexed for the benefit of whoever was watching on the other side.

The door opened and he turned to see who his enemy was, and stared.

The woman who walked into the room was an officer of Haze's police department, that much was clear by her uniform. The body within it, however, made him drastically reconsider.

Firm, perky breasts were bound tight by her buttoned jacket. A pencil skirt showed long legs and hugged a pair of rolling hips. Her face was stunning, framed by blonde hair spilling out of a stiff brimmed hat. Her badge dangled from a necklace, golden and brilliant and resting in the valley of her breasts.

"Holy shit," Jonas said, grinning. "I didn't know the strip clubs were hiring out."

The woman lifted a dark brow and set down the files she'd been carrying. She leaned over, her badge dangling, flashing in the fluorescent light. "Jonas Art. Brought in for racketeering and drug dealing. First time arrested in Haze but, according to this, you've been a naughty boy elsewhere in the country. And quite often," she observed.

Jonas frowned at her amused tone. "Yeah. And?"

"I'm officer Poppy. You're not smart enough to deal in this city. Who's your boss?"

Jonas laughed. "Oh really? You think I'm going to sell him out? Guess again sweetheart. Just charge me and toss me in a cell. I'll be out in a week."

She smiled again, and there was something in that smile that gave Jonas his first real feeling of unease. He shifted in his chair as she leisurely took a seat across from him. She reached up and began to toy with her necklace. "You're new here, Jonas. Which isn't surprising. We do things a little... differently in Haze."

"Yeah?" Jonas said, his brow knitting.

"Oh yes," Poppy murmured, the badge flashing in the weak lights, spinning in her lacquered nails. "We don't really believe in interrogation. Our officers are of the opinion that... given the right... stimulus... people want to tell us everything they know..."

Jonas blinked. The flash of her badge was distracting. It kept pulling his attention to it. He shook himself, his head aching a bit. Fucking lights. "Well tits for you. But I'm not one of them."

"I think you could be," Poppy mused. "Given the right incentives..."

Her badge was flashing and dancing. Spinning like his head was starting to. Jonas blinked again, furrowing his brows. The golden shield was framed by her curving breasts as they rose, and fell. Rose and fell. Timed to her slow, heavy breathing.

"Do you like my badge?"

"I like your tits more," Jonas said, forcing some of his old bravado up.

"Yes. They are nice, aren't they? So big and heavy. Would you like to see them?"

"I... what?" Jonas said.

Poppy smiled warmly, her other hand rising towards the top buttons of her jacket. His mouth dry, Jonas could only gape as, just beyond the spinning, flashing badge, Poppy undid the first button. The second. Each one revealing another inch of creamy, soft tit flesh.

"Holy shit," Jonas breathed.

"Nice, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah."

"So easy to just stare at them. To watch my badge spin and dance and flicker. Isn't it?"

"Yeah," Jonas said. Realized what he'd said. "Wait..."

"Shhh. Just relax, Jonas. We do things differently in Haze. And I don't think you'll be disappointed."

"I-ah!" Jonas jumped as he felt something push against his bulge. He shot a glance down between his legs, and saw Poppy's stocking-clad foot pressing against his cock. Gone were her sensible shoes, the shape of her toes just distinguishable through the mesh fabric as her foot pressed and toyed against his rapidly stiffening shaft.

He looked back up at her, stunned. She smiled, her dark lashes low. Enticing. And between her breasts, she continued to spin her badge.

"I don't believe interrogations have to be bad," Poppy breathed, her badge sparkling. Flashing. Dancing. Her foot massaging his cock with lazy expertise. "I think it's much better to just... relax. To just enjoy and see where things go. People are so much more eager to tell me what they know when they're relaxed. When they're hot and horny and just... so... easy..."

"F-fuck," Jonas gasped, breathing heavily. Realizing he'd been staring at the badge, he forced his eyes to hers, biting his lip as her toes found the tip of his cock tenting in his pants. "You... what the fuck are you doing?"

"About your boss..." she breathed.

He laughed, but it was more uncertain now. Now that her badge was spinning in the corner of his eye. Now that her feet were massaging his cock. "You... you think I'll... I'll give him up?"

"Hmm. I guess not. Maybe if I offered... a little more..."

His eyes were instantly drawn back to her fingers as they slid down the valley of her breasts, teased open another button. Another. Jonas was panting, his breath so hot it was a wonder it didn't steam. He could see the beginnings of a lacy dark bra binding up her generous tits.

"Jonas," she breathed, her chest rising. Falling. Her badge spinning. "You know what you need?"

"Wh-what?"

"You have a boss because you're just a bit... silly. Just a bit dumb. Just a bit of a silly, dumb bimbo. You need someone to tell you what to do. Someone who can command you. Someone who can make you feel so good."

"I...I um..." He wanted to refuse her, but he was barely registering what she was saying. Barely able to concentrate beyond that spinning, flashing badge. Her breasts and the hints of what lay beyond those last few buttons. The hot, heaviness spreading through him as her toes continued their torture of his cock through his ever tighter pants. Fuck. Fuck he felt good. He felt hot and horny and... and things... things were good. Weren't they? He was still resisting, right?

"But a boss can't make you feel this good. You know what you need?"

"What?" Jonas gasped, whimpered.

"You need... a mistress..."

She undid the last button. Her breasts spilled into the open, and oh god they were everything he dreamed. Flawless, perky, firm. Jonas gave a weak cry, his balls tightening as he came, spurting into his pants, dampening the fabric beneath her toes.

"Naughty naughty," Poppy murmured, her toes pressing down on his cock. "You came without permission. See? This is why you're such a silly bimbo. You just can't help yourself."

Humiliation, arousal, confusion. The three warred in Jonas. He ducked his head with shame, but couldn't help peeking again. Staring some more at her luscious tits.

Poppy smiled darkly. She took her foot from his cock and rose leisurely. Jonas followed her, her jacket hanging open, the hard nubs of her nipples just visible through the lacy black bra. She strolled around the table, her hand trailing along the smooth metal surface. She came before him and leaned forward, over him. He could smell her now. Something strong. Commanding. A heady mix of domineering leather and something more floral. More wild. More... intoxicating...

"Do you want more?" she asked, her fingers trailing down his chest. Down. Down. He whimpered as she teased the damp spot on his pants, his cock stirring again at her touch. How her finger slowly circled his bulge.

"Y-yeah," Jonas whimpered. All his confidence. All his brazen pride smothered beneath the strangeness of it all. It was like a dream. He felt like he was floating. Ethereal. And he couldn't take his eyes away from the shining badge as it spun and twirled, calling to him. Tempting him.

"You don't need a boss," she said, undoing his zipper, drawing his cock into the open air. "You need a mistress, my silly, sexy little bimbo slut. Don't you?"

"I... I don't..."

"Can your boss make you feel so good?" she asked, her fingers wrapping around his cock. "Does he play with your pretty cock? Does he make you cum?"

"N-no..." Jonas gasped as she began to pump him, still slick from his earlier orgasm. His hands were fisted, the manacles rattling as he shook with palpable need. As his mind spun and blood thumped as her necklace spun between her soft tits and her hand pumped his cock.

"Then tell me who he is," she said, her hand moving faster, her breasts closer. Her badge sparkling like her eyes. Her lovely eyes. As she straddled his legs, her scent rolling over him. Drowning him. Consuming him. "Tell your mistress who your boss was. He's not your boss anymore. You serve your mistress. You're her sexy, silly, bimbo slut, aren't you? You love your mistress. You love her hand on your silly dumb cock. You want to tell me. Tell me. Tell mistress."

He tried to resist. He really did. But his head ached so much. His body was so hot. His cock was so needy. So ready. He moaned, bound in his chair, trapped by her hand. Her body. Her presence. And all the while her badge was spinning. Spinning. Spinning. And her eyes were shining, shining, shining.

"Tell me," she whispered, her voice coiling about his mind. About his will. "Tell me, and you can cum. Tell your mistress, and she'll fuck you. Tell her."

Her hand was gone from his twitching cock. But her pencil skirt had ridden up, and he could see she wasn't wearing anything underneath. A trim thatch of blonde hair framed her hot cunt. It dangled over his pulsing cock. He could feel the heat of his mistress's pussy.

"T-Ted Stanaza!" Jonas cried. "It's Ted Stanaza! Please mistress! Let me cum! Oh please. Please!"

She smiled down at him, and his heart soared at that sweet turn of her lips. "Good boy."

And she plunged down onto his cock.

Jonas threw back his head, screaming with ecstasy as her hot depths swallowed his aching cock. He came, exploding within her, surrendering to her as she bounced in his lap, fucking him down, her badge bouncing off her firm tits, flashing, dancing. He cried out, cumming again, weakening with every spurt of his seed inside of her.

"Ooooh yes! Good boy! Give me all of it. Give me everything! Fuck your mistress! Serve herrrr!" Poppy moaned.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Jonas sobbed, surrendering fully. Giving everything he was to those clutching folds. Every spurt of his cock tugged away another piece of him. Every tightening grasp of those slick walls sucked another piece of the thug he was away.

She settled atop his lap, panting, her breasts an inch from his face. Jonas whimpered, sagging, spent, feeling empty yet... strangely whole as well. Poppy smiled down at the blank stare of her newest tit slave. She stroked his short hair. "Good boy," she breathed, easing his head forward until he rested against the pillows of her breasts. "Such a good... good boy..."

"Thank you," Jonas murmured as he sank into her tits. "Mistres..."