Chattel Ch 02

He was almost back at the house, the backseat of the car loaded up with food for tonight's dinner, when John heard the siren.

He sighed with frustration. This seemed to happen every time he left the house. He was only five minutes away from home too, and he had a whole afternoon's cooking to get underway!

He pulled over the Porsche to the side of the road, watched in the rear-view mirror as the police car slowly pulled up behind him with its lights flashing, although the siren had now ceased.

John rolled his eyes. This was part of the day-to-day routine for a man in modern society. Best to get it over with. Hopefully it wouldn't take long.

He watched in the rear-view mirror as the long-legged cop stepped out of her car, her sleek leather boots shining in the glare of the burning sun. She was tall, he could see, and her body was tanned and fit. Much stronger than his own gawky eighteen-year-old frame, with its awkward limbs and skinny muscles.

The cop advanced brusquely towards the Porsche, her long black hair flowing behind her in the cool breeze. She was all business, and – John could see in the rear-view mirror – wore a stern expression on her face.

"Well," she began, her voice hard, "what have we got here?"

"Officer, I'm just on my way home with groceries," John attempted to explain in a weary voice (he had done this so many times before!) "That's all."

The cop didn't believe him.

"Uh-huh," she replied, unconvinced. She looked the sleek black Porsche over from trunk to bonnet. "That sure is a nice car you have here, male."

"It isn't mine," John replied. Every time, he had to explain this. Every time. And they never believed him.

"Go on. You amaze me." Her sarcasm was like a cruel whip.

"It belongs to my owner."

"To your owner, huh? Sure it does. Y'know, a Porsche just like this one was reported missing a coupla days ago, only a few blocks from here. Same model, too. Different colour, but I suppose you could have had it painted in that time." She leaned in to the window, observing his face.

John began to sweat – an unfortunate reaction that would hardly attest to his innocence. He hated being questioned by these... these... (his mind screamed the word out for him)... these

bitches!

And it made it so much harder that he was forbidden by law to look away, to refuse to look a female in the eye, police officer or not.

Even though he had done nothing wrong John knew it would be difficult to justify himself. It always was. A male driving a Porsche alone through one of the richest neighbourhoods in the city? Of course that was suspicious! No male anywhere in the country could afford such a car – except maybe one of the high-class gigolos, or a Senator's household staff. Perhaps.

Unfortunately it would be up to him to prove his innocence.

The cop observed the nervous beads of sweat forming on John's forehead, the eyes that pleaded to look away only to return reluctantly to her face as the law demanded.

"Something bothering you, male?" she asked, her voice silken now, the purr of a cat that has cornered its prey. "Something making you nervous?"

"No, officer," John replied, the quaver in his own voice giving the lie to his words.

"Uh-huh. Can I see your ownership papers, please?"

John reached for the glovebox, but the cop stopped him.

"No, male. Not the ownership papers for the car.

Your

ownership papers."

"Oh. Of course officer." He reached into his pocket, pulled them out and handed them to the cop. Every male carried these on his person – a male found without them would be unable to explain his movements on the street, and would be liable for arrest and possible re-sale.

The cop looked them over, whistled in awe. "Wow. So your owner's a big deal, isn't she?"

"I... I guess so."

"A big television star! I guess that makes you think you're kinda special, huh? That you're a big deal too?"

It was the same old story. Police officers were not particularly well paid. To them, John was a pampered male pet who lived in luxury that they, perfectly healthy females, would never be able to afford for themselves. He understood their resentment –

this chattel probably lives better than I do! –

but that didn't make it any easier to endure.

"No, officer. I'm a nobody. Just a male on his way home to make dinner for his owner."

"Hmmm." John watched as her face crinkled slightly. A thought had just occurred to her. "Step out of the vehicle, male."

"Huh? Why?" John asked, bewildered. "It's all there in my ownership papers. You know officer, I really need to get back to the house and..."

"

Excuse me?

" she thundered, her voice full of disbelief. "Male, I have just given you a command. It is against the law to disobey a reasonable command from a female, as you well know – let alone the fact I am an officer of the law also! Step out of the car and explain yourself!"

Attempting to bury a sigh, John opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Immediately the cop's arms were around his shoulders, flipping him over hard until he was face to face with the black finish of the car's trunk.

She slammed her body hard against his, pressing him into the burning steel of the car. The pain was intense.

"Stupid boy!" she spat in his ear, her hot breath on his neck. "Are you resisting a police officer?" She began to run her hands lightly over his head and shoulders, over his back, over his buttocks.

"What? No, of course not! I am not resisting anything!"

"I should hope not, male!" she spat again. "Just because you're the property of a television star doesn't mean you don't have to know your place!" She continued to run her hands over his body, lingering once more on the cheeks of his buttocks.

"What are you doing?" he managed to gasp out, his eyes filling with water.

"Making sure you're not armed," she replied. "A cop from my precinct was shot about a month ago during a random stop of a male in a Ferrari. He was trying to escape his owner, and had stolen her car. I'll be damned if the same thing's gonna happen to me!"

Satisfied that John was not concealing anything under his clothes, she ceased her patdown of his body. Yet he remained with his head against the trunk of the car, her breasts pushing hard into his back.

He gasped for air. "Let me go!" he wheezed. "I haven't got a weapon!"

"No," she breathed into his ear. "You don't. But what if I claimed you did?"

"Huh?" What was she talking about?

"What if I told my precinct there was a knife in your car – I can plant one there, easy – and that you tried to resist arrest when I attempted to take you back to the station?"

"What? Why would you do that?"

"Simple," she whispered into his ear, her breath moist and warm. "I don't like you, male. I don't like seeing eighteen-year-old males driving around in Porsches as if they owned the neighbourhood, just because their owner happens to be a big television star. A male's place is in the kitchen, the bedroom, and with their head in a pussy. So, maybe I take you in. Claim you tried to attack me."

Terror filled John's soul. No male would get a fair hearing in a court. Whose word would the all-woman jury believe – his, or that of a cop? He'd be re-sold then, and God only knew where he'd end up, a young and relatively mint-condition male like him. Prisoners were sold at bargain-basement prices, usually to desperate blue-collar women who needed a cheap fucking after a hard day's work.

"No, please!" he pleaded with the cop, gasping as her body smothered him. "What do you want? I'll do anything you ask!"

He felt a hand wander down towards his buttocks again, slowly, caressingly. It wormed its way under then, coming to rest lightly on his balls.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, you will." And she licked his neck.

"I haven't had a cock in three or four years," she whispered into his ear. "Can't afford one on a policewoman's salary. My mother loaned me her own male on my twentieth birthday for a week, as a gift. But since then – nothing."

"You want me to fuck you?" John asked, his voice full of terror. "B-but I'm someone else's chattel – it's against the law!"

"So is carrying a concealed weapon and resisting arrest, male!" she barked back. She bit his ear then, playfully, but hard enough to make John wince with pain. "You understand me? Now, here's what we're going to do: you're going to take your clothes off and climb into the backseat of that Porsche. That's where I want to be fucked – in the backseat of your owner's car, and by her own property. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," John answered, still gasping for air. "I understand."

"Good. Then I'm going to ride your cock until I come, and you're going to fill me with your jism. It's been so long since I felt a man explode inside me. I want you to drown my pussy with your cum."

"But if my owner finds out my cock has been in another pussy..."

The cop chuckled. "That's your problem, male, not mine. I'm want to feel your cum leaking out me. It's that or the watch house. Understood?"

John said nothing. She shook his body angrily.

"Is that understood?" she hissed wetly into his ear.

"Yes!" John shouted back at last.

"Good. Now, take off your clothes." She stood back from him then, releasing him from her grip.

John turned around to face her, taking the opportunity to get his first real look at the cop that had made him her sexual prey.

She was tall and tanned – strong, but not fat – with long and flowing black hair. She was probably a Latina, or possibly Italian. Her breasts jutted forward through her uniform, giving her an air of authority. Her pants were stretched tight around her muscular buttocks, while her sleek black leather boots made her seem taller than she was – which was tall enough for John, who was about half a foot shorter than this Amazon.

She stared at him impatiently. "Now, male. Take them off, or I'll take you in. I haven't got all day. Right here, by the side of the road."

"Here? But everyone can see!"

She smiled wolfishly. "So what if they do? Not my problem. But if my pussy isn't milking your cock in two minutes, you're going to have an even bigger problem than a little shyness."

He stripped hurriedly – first his shirt, then his trousers, and finally his underwear. The cop watched intently as every piece of clothing was removed and tossed onto the roof of the car.

When at least he was completely naked, the officer strode forward and took his limp penis in her strong hand. She began to roll the foreskin back from the glans, then forward again, slowly masturbating him. John groaned.

"That's it?" she sneered. "I expected more from the male of a rich star like your owner. Well, hopefully you'll be bigger when you're hard." She kept up her masturbating of his cock, dropping to her knees and using her other hand to grip his balls softly, almost tenderly.

John groaned again, and the officer smirked. "You males are so easy. Rub your cock a little and you're ready to go. It's like putting a coin in a vending machine." She chuckled then, and began to strip off her trousers.

"Get in the back and lie down on the seat. All this talk and playing with your dick has made me wet enough. Get that cock in my pussy – don't fuck around, or you'll regret it!"

John did as he was told.

She didn't remove all of her uniform – just her pants and her underwear. But it was enough. She towered over John in the backseat, and began to slowly lower her pussy onto his cock, now hard and jutting upwards, any former reluctance vanished, its head purple and inflamed.

As the tip made contact with her soft pussy lips – smooth and wet – she forced herself quickly downwards, spearing herself on John's cock. They both groaned.

"Oh God," the officer squealed, an oddly girlish noise from such a figure of authority. "Oh, it's been so

long!

"

John said nothing, concentrating hard on the pussy that had enveloped his penis. It was so wet, so warm. He needed to make her come quickly or this could go on forever. And it was getting late – there was still an entire dinner for four to cook.

He reached up with his hand, found the cop's proud little clitoris that was standing out from her puffy pussy lips. He began to manipulate it with his thumb.

It was as if he had touched her with an electric wire. She squealed again with delight. "Oh

God!

Oh, I forgot how a cock feels in a dripping wet pussy!"

She placed her hands on his shoulders, began to ride him, her big firm buttocks quivering as she did so. Up and down, up and down. John reached back and grabbed those hard pillows in his hands. He decided to risk a little imagination, to try something he knew his owner loved.

He spanked the right buttock, hard. The woman on top of him groaned.

"Spank me, boy! Spank me again!"

John did so, the left cheek this time.

"And again, you little fucktoy! You filthy little walking cock – spank my ass again!"

John did as he was told.

It was obvious she was pretty excited – all the foreplay beforehand, when she had slammed poor John into the car and pretended to search for a weapon, all that physicality must have aroused her. It wouldn't be long before she finished, John could tell. The sooner the better.

He kept up his manipulation of her throbbing clitoris, and increased the speed of his thrusting upwards into that soaking wet pussy. She began to moan then, closing her eyes, and stuck a finger into his mouth. He sucked on it, caressing it with his tongue, as if that finger was the site of all her pleasure.

At last her face tightened, and her smooth round buttocks began to shudder. Her orgasm was coming. John thrust harder, faster, and continued spanking those warm globes.

The officer moaned, and her pussy began to tighten, squeezing the life out of John's poor cock. Her head fell back as she gazed longingly towards the sky – and shuddered with pleasure.

She was coming, and hard. The first cock she had had inside her in four years had brought her to heights of bliss she had forgotten even existed. She moaned her orgasm into the air, and John could feel the spasms as her pussy milked his cock in desperation.

For her, it was a moment of sheer and almost religious ecstasy.

At last she finished, and opened her eyes once more, breathing heavily. She stared at John underneath her, a prisoner between those strong tanned thighs.

"Good, male," she said at last. "Very good. I can understand why your owner bought you."

She slapped his face then, hard and fast, leaving a red welt across poor John's cheek. He gasped in pain.

"What was that for?" he demanded with unguarded anger.

She smirked. "Because I wanted to," she answered, her voice mocking. "Because I can do whatever the hell I want to you, and I wanted you to know it."

He lay back in the seat, exhausted, her body heavy on top of his.

She grabbed him by the hair, pulling it hard, until the tears came into his eyes.

"Not so fast, male!" she hissed at him. "We haven't finished! I'm yet to feel your sticky white cum filling my pussy – remember? It isn't over yet!"

She began to ride him again – his cock still in her hot slit – slowly, slowly, up and down, bringing her pussy lips all the way to the head of his rod before plunging downwards once more, impaling herself. John groaned as her silken folds began to milk the cum from his balls.

She leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Oh, you like being fucked by a cop, male? You like feeling her hot and wet pussy slowly riding your hard cock like a bull? How does that pussy feel, male?"

When he didn't answer, she pulled his hair again.

"How does it feel?" she demanded angrily.

"Hot and wet," he answered, tears filling his eyes from the pain of her sudden hair-pulling. "It's so tight, like a glove!"

"Good," she cooed softly into his ear as she rode him. She began to speed up her thrusts, her tanned buttocks moving back and forth along the length of his shaft.

"You're going to come soon, male," she hissed again. "In my pussy – the first cum that's been in there for years. You're going to fill me with it, splash it all over the walls of my cunt. I can feel your cock quivering now, right now, inside me. Don't hold it in – let it go, fill me with your hot cream, cram as much of that jism in there as you can, splash it across my... Oh, there it is! There's that cum! Good boy! Let it out!"

John began to do just that, his balls tightening, the waves of hot sticky seed pumping upwards through his cock into her warm wet pussy at last, filling her cunt as per her orders. The pleasure was intense. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed under the policewoman's body.

"Good boy," she cooed into his ear. "Good boy. I forgot how it feels to have a man's jism in my hot pussy – to milk him dry of his masculinity."

Slowly, she raised herself off him. "Well now, male," she said as she pulled her knees together to put her panties back on. "You're free to go. I'm going back to the precinct for a shower – I need it." She exited the car, reached for the trousers she had left on the roof of the vehicle. She turned to look at him. "I can feel your cum inside me as I walk," she smirked. "I fucked you like an animal, male, and the proof is in my pussy."

She put on the rest of her uniform, walked back to the police car. "Very well, then," she called to him. "Be on your way. Your vehicle is blocking the pavement here."

John said nothing.

"Oh, and I'd advise you to race home and have a shower, male," she called to him cheekily. "I'd hate to be in your shoes if your owner smells or tastes another woman's pussy on your cock!"

John groaned. What she said was true – and he was running out of time.