Alone

I tried to relax my throat as he pushed back in, and while it was still rubbing against me uncomfortably, the absence of the belt made it far easier for him to slide his length all the way down. He seemed to enjoy it more as well, as he didn't have to overcome that extra compression this time. I tried my best to just relax my throat and let him through, but not being able to breathe wasn't doing much to help with that. He seemed to remember that though, and only a few moments after his balls stopped at my nose, he started pulling back out again. Once he was clear of my throat I was able to breathe again, though the smell certainly wasn't pleasant. He was watching me though, and once I'd gotten a breath, he pushed back in, grunting in pleasure as my throat struggled to take him.

That set the pattern for the next few minutes. He fucked my face and played with my tits. I found myself having to time my breaths for whenever he was all the way out, and despite my best attempts to keep my throat relaxed, I could hear myself gawking whenever he forced his way past my windpipe. I wasn't working the tongue anymore. Instead, I was just trying to keep my teeth clear as he started picking up the pace. Not as fast as when he'd been fucking me, but certainly not slow. I had to take short, shallow breaths through my nose, the moment I felt my airway clear. The difficulty was, sometimes he didn't pull back enough to actually clear my airway before he went right back in again. That was the major issue. Breathing rapidly through my nose when he pulled back, as well as doing my best to keep my throat relaxed the whole time was tiring, and not a pleasant experience at all. I'd much rather have been able to just continue with the blowjob. I knew how to do that.

"Goddamn, you're taking this like a champ." He got out, gasping in ecstasy as he continued rapidly fucking my mouth.

I didn't- well, I couldn't reply, but even if I could, I wouldn't have. I couldn't even make eye contact with him properly, as I had to keep my eyes closed for the most part, as his dangling, hairy balls just kept slapping me in the face repeatedly. Another really aggravating thing was that I had no idea what to do with my hands. I was certainly glad to have them free, as it was effectively my only way to let him know if I was choking, but considering I'd gone from employing them extensively along the length of his shaft to now having no use for them, I ended up just resting them on my stomach, no real clue what to do with them. He seemed to have some ideas though. Slowing down for a moment, he grabbed my hands by the handcuff chain and pushed them down to my crotch, before turning his attention back to my breasts. Needless to say, I didn't start fingering myself, like he seemed to have been suggesting.

"You're no fun at all." He said, when it became apparent I wasn't going to do as he suggested, sounding slightly disappointed.

I would've laughed, had his cock not been buried halfway down my gullet. I was no fun? I'd just sucked his dick with more enthusiasm than you saw anywhere on the front page of most hardcore porn sites, and he'd gotten bored and decided to just lay me down and rape my face instead. Oh, and I was doing it because the alternative was being fucking burned alive. But sure, I was 'no fun'. Unable to stop myself, not really considering the potential consequences, I simply stuck a middle finger up at him, to which he laughed, and started going faster. He thought it was funny, of course he did. This psychopath killed my partner, and had been repeatedly raping me for nearly an hour now, and it was all just a game to him. I had to fight back the sudden urge to bite down, hard. I doubt he'd find that funny.

God, what I wouldn't have given to do it. I reckon I could've probably bitten the whole thing off if I put enough pressure on it, but then I'd be left with ten inches of meat stuck in my throat, and the boundless fury of a man who'd already caused me more suffering than I'd ever endured. Oh, he'd have his revenge for that, no doubt. He'd beat me to within an inch of my life, probably cut bits off me, and then finally, burn me alive, and he'd see to it that the whole world saw it. It'd become one of those touchstones of the more sordid parts of the internet. Fucked up teenagers wouldn't say "Oh, have you seen that video of the ISIS beheadings?" They'd say "Did you see the video of that naked cop being burned alive?" I once made the mistake of watching a video this one kid in high school showed me, of some Turkish soldiers who were burned alive. I'd be lying if I said that hadn't stayed with me. He was expelled, that kid, though not for that, as I never reported it. I never found out what exactly he was expelled for though, oddly enough.

While I'd been letting my mind wander to dark places, Greg was getting close. I knew he was getting close when I felt his rhythm suddenly get irregular, and I had to adjust my breathing to accommodate. That, and how, after a few moments of this, he groaned in satisfaction, and then all of a sudden, I couldn't breathe, because he'd stopped, bottomed out inside me, his balls pressed right up against my nose. I could feel his cock pulsating, right the way down my throat. Mercifully, he pulled back for a moment to let me breathe, before forcing his way right back in again, staying for a few seconds or more every time. Finally, as he grunted and moaned softly, I felt his seed pouring down my throat.

He stayed inside me for what felt like a minute or more as he shot rope after rope of cum, straight into my stomach. I could feel when he was done, but he didn't seem to want to move afterwards, instead just rubbing my tits together as again, the lack of air was starting to make me dizzy and light-headed. Tears streaming down my face again, I finally tapped out, slapping his hands with mine. After a moment, he pulled all the way out of me with a slimy pop, and immediately I started coughing. I could feel the stuff clinging to the walls of my very sore throat, refusing to go down all the way. I felt like I was about to vomit. Ignoring his hand on my tits, I sat up, breathing heavily through my mouth as I tried to stop myself from throwing up. My nose was blocked, and, suspecting what was blocking it, I didn't want to snort, especially when I could see him filming me. Looking down at his cock again for a moment though, I could already see him hardening again.

"That was beautiful, sweetheart. You took that load like a trooper." He said after a moment, still gathering his own breath. "You should've joined the highway patrol, huh?" He added with a laugh.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I got out, exhausted.

"Get it, highway patrol, like a trooper?" He asked, sounding really quite proud of himself.

"You choked me, again!" I shouted bitterly, ignoring his stupid joke.

This time, he just rolled his eyes. "Look, if you wanna live, then you should be focused on what I want, not what you want." He replied sharply.

I was confused by that. What the hell did he mean, if I wanted to live? He'd told me he was going to kill me. Taking his meat down my throat was just so I could get a death that didn't involve being turned into a human torch.

"You're gonna kill me anyway." I said bluntly after a moment, putting a hand to my nose, which was now leaking something disgusting.

"Well, maybe I won't, if you can fuckin' play along, and make me happy." He growled.

"You're full of shit. You're gonna kill me the second you're done with me." I got out, tears welling up in my eyes as the burning in my throat started getting worse.

He laughed, rubbing one hand along his well-lubricated cock. "Are you kidding me? You're the most fun I've had in years!" He exclaimed. "You keep making this fun for me, and you might get to go home after this."

"Bullshit." I replied hoarsely.

He rolled his eyes. "Look, if you're done, then tell me now. I'll take you out there, put a bullet in you, and be on my way, and your dad doesn't get to see you burn." He said simply. "Hell, I'll even let you dress back up first, but if you actually want to live, then shut the fuck up, and do what I say."

It seemed I'd graduated from fucking my way out of being immolated, to fucking my way out of being killed at all. I had little reason to believe he'd hold up his end of the bargain, all things considered, especially when not fifteen minutes prior, he'd been about to kneecap me and set me alight. I realized though, despite having no faith that he'd keep up his end of the bargain, I couldn't just give up. My life had only just started, and I had so many hopes and aspirations. There were so many things I'd never done. I'd never been abroad. Hell, I'd never been to New York before. I had a savings account with about $2300 in it, specifically for a trip I wanted to take to Niagara Falls with my mom and dad. They didn't know about it. It was meant to be a surprise for my dad's fiftieth birthday, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't for me too.

I simply didn't have it in me to give up. I was still holding out hope. In what, I wasn't sure though. Maybe it was the hope that my department would realize something was wrong, and instead of trying to hail us on the radio, they'd send another unit to find us, and they'd arrive, and kill this bastard. Or maybe it was the hope that he'd fuck up and leave the gun close enough for me to grab. Finally, there was the hope that if I made him happy, he'd make good on his word, and not kill me. It wasn't much, but it was enough, and he knew it. He knew that even after all he'd done to me, I wasn't ready to die yet.

"What is it... that you want, then?" I asked eventually, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I want to fuck those tits of yours." He said candidly, gesturing between my breasts.

I swallowed my pride, and a fair bit of his seed, and nodded. "Can I get some water?" I asked hesitantly.

He took a moment to consider, before sighing, awkwardly zipping up his pants, and making for the door. He got out, closing the door behind him, and opened back up the front passenger side door. He quickly found the water bottle from before, but there were only a few drops left.

"Wait there." He said, smirking at me through the cage, before casually walking off towards the BMW.

I watched as he started rummaging in the back seat of the BMW, but after a moment, my attention was drawn to the car's radio, the mic was hanging down from the steering wheel, after Greg had moved it away from the passenger seat. I could hear the dispatcher directing units to a car crash somewhere. I thought for a second about trying to sneak into the front and make a help call, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to make a distress call without the dispatcher, or any other units then giving me away once Greg came back. Also, my personal radio was in the BMW, right next to Greg. He'd hear my voice and immediately be tipped off. The idea was a complete nonstarter. I then realized something else though, the engine was still running. Of course it was still running. That was the first thing I was taught when Thomas let me behind the wheel, never turn the engine off if you've got lights on. The takedowns and emergency lights had been running non-stop for nearly an hour now, and even with the police package modifications, that would drain the battery of the car if we didn't keep the engine ticking over.

So, the engine was running, Greg was distracted, and, owing to his lack of knowledge of how cop cars worked, he'd neglected to lock the rear doors. This was it. This was my second, and likely my last chance. My last attempt had earned me a brutal reprisal, but what I had planned now would either result in victory, or death. He would hear the door open, so I figured stealth was out the window. I had to rely on speed. Could I get out, get into the driver's seat, put the car in reverse, and get the hell out of dodge in time? He'd shoot at me, that much I figured immediately, so I'd have to be fast, and lucky. What's more, I had to make up my mind, now. I didn't have to think long.

It was doomed to fail from the moment I got out of the car. Greg was already out of the BMW by the time I got the back door open, and when I tried to open the driver's side door, I barely got it halfway open before Greg reached me. He slammed the door shut and pinned me against the car.

"What do you think you're doing?" He demanded gruffly, one hand on my neck, the other on my gun, pressed into my gut.

I didn't have an answer for him. Tears were once again silently streaming down my face, and the terror I felt at having my own gun pressed against my belly was second to none. Had I not emptied my bladder earlier, I suspected I'd have pissed myself again.

"I'm waiting for an answer." He added quietly, staring me down.

"I was going to drive away." I got out eventually, shaking as I tried to hold back sobs.

To my surprise, he didn't seem particularly angry. His response a moment later only seemed to confirm that.

"Yeah, I- You know what, fair enough. Can't really blame you for trying." He said with a slight chuckle, pulling the gun away.

He then grabbed me by the cuffs and pulled me back over to the rear door, before pushing me back inside and slamming the door closed on me. What a pathetic attempt it had been. I didn't even get a foot in the door, literally. Evidently he was so unimpressed with my escape attempt he didn't even see fit to enact any sort of immediate reprisal. He even gave me a bottle of water he'd taken from the BMW. I'm sure he'd get his chance to take it out on me though. I knew what he wanted to do to me before, but I had no idea what else he had planned. My plan now, if you could call it a plan, was to do what he told me, do my best to satisfy him, endure all the pain and humiliation, and hope the murdering rapist kept his word not to kill me when he was done. Not a great plan, but when the alternative was death, there wasn't much else.

I watched dispassionately as he stripped his own pants off and threw them, along with the gun, into the front seat. He then got back into the rear of the car with me, though he was holding something I hadn't noticed before. He had my retractable baton. I guess he wanted something to threaten me with that I couldn't effectively use against him. The baton was perfect for that. If I got a hold of it, even when it was extended, I'd not be able to do much with it, given my handcuffs, and the lack of room to swing it properly. In his hands though, it was a deadly weapon. With this new sobering fact in mind, I didn't resist as he laid me on the seats and settled himself on my stomach. His cock was already hard again, but at this point I'd lost the ability to be surprised by that. Of course, with my shit luck, I got the rapist who's size and stamina you only ever saw in the most lurid and unbelievable pornos.

I felt disgusted even thinking about it though, and, not for the first time, I felt so damn ashamed. He'd raped me, and for some reason, the thing that played on my mind wasn't the damage he was doing, or the humiliation of the violation, but the size of my rapist's equipment. I was staring at the roof in silence, just trying to just block it all out, but I couldn't ignore the uncomfortable kneading of my breasts. It became impossible to shut out when he laid his cock down in between my breasts and started slowly thrusting between them, holding them together so they formed a complete seal around his invading member. Despite that, I tried though, even lifting my chin up and out of the way to avoid the tip knocking against my neck. I should've known he wouldn't be satisfied with that though.

"Put your lips around it." He instructed, pulling his cock back so I could look forward.

And I'd just washed my mouth out as well. I reluctantly complied, craning my neck forward and opening my mouth slightly, deliberately choosing a space off in the distance to stare at. He wasted no time in pushing back in, and the now-familiar salty taste of his seed returned as the head scraped against my tongue and pressed against the roof of my mouth. Throughout all of this, I'd had no idea what to do with my hands, so I'd just kept them above my head, out of his way. Evidently that wasn't to his liking though.

"Press your tits together." He said bluntly, grabbing my cuffs and dragging my hands down to my breasts.

My hands were cuffed together. I couldn't press shit when I could only move my wrists four inches apart from each other. His cock was still in my mouth so I couldn't reply, so I simply held up the cuffs and gave him an unimpressed look.

"Use your arms, bitch, goddamn!" He snapped impatiently, shoving my cuffed hands back towards me.

I did as he said, pressing my elbows together, forcing my arms against the sides of my breasts. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but it worked at pressing my breasts together around his cock. He then had both hands free, which he then employed to both record me with his phone and grab my hair to keep my head still, all the while, he fucked my tits raw. This went on for a while, as I tried my best not to look at him, or the camera. From a purely sexual point of view, It can't have been that great for him, given how my breasts had practically no lubrication, but he was loving it anyway, I could tell. It was the control, and the submission that was doing it for him.

It didn't take long for my arms, neck, and jaw to start cramping, but I knew if I couldn't hold the position, there was no chance he'd let me live after. Compliance was the only thing keeping me alive right now, and that infuriated me. I think of all the ways he'd raped me so far, I despised being taken in this position the most. It wasn't as painful as the vaginal rapes, which had left my legs numb and my crotch burning, but what I hated most was the sheer humiliation of it. I was sitting up, and holding my hands up just above my face, every muscle straining to hold still as he vigorously fucked my mouth through my tits. He could hold them himself, and let me rest, but he wanted to fucking film it. Of course he wanted to fucking film it. Even if once he was done, he let me live, he'd be driving off into the sunset with all those images. An indelible record of all of what he'd done to me.

"You look a little unhappy there sweetheart." He said with a chuckle.

I glared up at him, the rage in my eyes visible for him to see.

He tutted. "Now that's not a nice look on you. Come on, give me that look from before, you know, the one you gave me when you were twitching around my dick like the slut you are." He said after a moment, grinning sadistically.

I continued glaring up at him, the righteous fury of ninety thousand sheepdogs directed his way. I wanted him to know how much I despised him. I wanted him to know that I wasn't nobody, I wasn't just another woman for him to violate and victimize. I'm a Sheriff's Deputy, authorized by the great state of Florida to act as one of her protectors, and he needed to know that meant something. It meant that no matter what happened here, he'd be hunted to the ends of the earth for this. He needed to understand that a crime of this nature against me was a crime against all cops.

Despite all that, I didn't do anything to resist him. He knew I wouldn't, not when I knew that whether I lived or died was entirely dependent on whether he decided to show mercy when he was done with me. He stopped for a moment, his cock still nestled firmly inside my mouth. He let go of my hair and brought his free hand up to mine, where he grabbed a firm hold of one of my hands and brought it to his own chest. He then took that hand and made it into half of a love heart, the fingers forming the top, and the thumb sticking out at the bottom.

"Come on sweetheart, play along." He said with sickening enthusiasm. "You know what they say, two bodies, one heart."