This is a series of separate fictional erotic stories made of pure fantasy and imagination with all characters over 18 years of age. The series includes themes such as: dominant male, humiliation, non-consensual sex, exhibition and bondage. If you are not into these themes or find them offensive, please do not read further. If you are into these things, please put your hands in your pants and enjoy.
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"A piece of cake, as usual," she thought as she sneaked through the dark hallway. Everything was going just as planned.
*THUD*
Without a warning, somebody attacked her! She and her assailant crashed to the floor, and with adrenaline pumping through her veins she fought like a lioness - but it appeared that whoever assaulted her was much stronger. In no time she was face down on the floor and felt a heavy weight on her back and an iron grip on her wrists, which were now bent behind her back. Her heart was nearly pounding out of her chest.
"You're under arrest," said a male voice, and she felt handcuffs tighten around her wrists.
She was pulled up and taken to what appeared to be a kitchen. The man who had snatched her placed her on a chair and switched on the lights.
"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. It's rare to see a female cat burglar," said the man with a wide smile.
Still blinking in the bright light, she looked at her assailant. He was bald, but he looked fairly young, maybe in his early 30's. Besides that stupid smile on his wide lips, he had bushy eyebrows and ice-cold blue eyes. He had dark, short eyelashes that softened his features a bit but he was by no means handsome. Rather, he reminded her of a cave man. His torso added to this mental picture. He was muscular: not really toned but not really bulky either. He had large hands which could perfectly well hold a stone axe. His clothes were clearly meant for home use only: a faded blue T-shirt, worn out gray sweatpants and no socks.
The man opened his mouth again, "I have to say, I've seen all kinds of idiotic criminals in my life, but never one that breaks into a house of a cop."
"A cop?! Fuck fuck fuck!" she thought. So the 'you're under arrest' was literal. Now she really was screwed...
"Betcha you spied on my house and thought I was going on a holiday with my family, but I just drove them to the airport and left my car to be fixed. You didn't count on me returning without a vehicle," said the cop with a smug expression on his face. He went on, "You also probably thought my house was an easy target with no electrical or other alarms. Wanna know why I never installed any alarms?"
The cop went on, answering his own question, "Because I know every trick any burglar might have. I know how they break in, I know from where they search for valuables. I could hear you cracking that window open from a mile away. Actually it was almost fun to ambush you," chuckled the police officer with a stupid expression on his face.
"Anyway, I know you won't have any ID on you, so what should I call you?" asked the cop.
"Fuck you!" she shouted.
"Alright, lady, I shall call you 'Lizzie'. I've always loved that nickname. I'm Mike, by the way," he said.
"But now," Mike said with a drawling, lazy voice, "I really don't feel like spending half of my weekend back at work writing reports about your little stunt. So how about we make a deal?"
"What the fuck? Why would I trust a pig like you?" she spat.
"Well, Lizzie," he said and gave her a meaning look, "you have two options: either you play my game or I'll take you back to the station at once. Bet you have some record already, probably will be serving some jail time... It's your choice."
"And how will I know you won't send me to jail anyway?" she asked provocatively.
"...You don't," Mike replied and burst into a hearty laughter. She was now certain he was the 'fun guy' among his colleagues at work.
"But, " he said with a more serious voice, "I swear your chances of getting off will be much better if you agree to play my game until tomorrow morning. If you agree, I let you go, but you only have my word for it."
"And what is this game, smartass?" she retorted.
"The game is simple: you do everything I order you to do. I want full, unquestioning obedience."
"So I would be like a slave?"
"To be a slave for a day or a little lion in a cage for years, it's up to you," he said nonchalantly.
She pondered her options. Both of them were bad. So far she had avoided jail, and she'd very much like to keep things that way - but if she agreed to this copper's game, she would most likely be humiliated and abused and might end up being arrested anyway. On the other hand, it occurred to her, she could make certain his wife and kids would hear about the deal if she got arrested afterwards. She had a trump card after all. Besides, she might be able to escape if she just stalled and pretended to agree to his game.
"Fine. I'll play your game," she said with little enthusiasm in her voice.
"Excellent. Now, from this moment on you will be Lizzie and you shall address me as a 'sir'. Who are you?" Mike asked her and looked at her with a sudden stern expression on his face.
"I am Lizzie, sir," she replied neutrally.
"Lizzie, I will remove your cuffs now. Don't even think about escaping. My house might appear as easy to break in, but the trick is, it's definitely not easy to break out of," he chuckled, clearly amused by his own clever line. Then he got more serious and said, "Let's start the game," looking her straight in the eye.
I To serve...
"Go to the bathroom, which is at the end of the hallway. Remove all your clothes, put them in this plastic bag and take a shower. Use the disposable razors and the shaving cream you find in the cabinet to shave off your excess hair. Everywhere, except your head, is that clear?" Mike said demandingly.
"Yes, sir," she, 'Lizzie', replied.
She made her way towards the bathroom and heard him hollering, "Shout out to me when you're ready!"
"Yes, sir!"
'Lizzie' entered the bathroom, removed her black polo shirt and black trousers. Then she lowered her black panties to her ankles, stepped out of them and finally removed her black bra, releasing her full breasts. She put everything in the plastic bag and found a razor and shaving cream from the cabinet. Then she stepped into the bathtub behind a shower curtain. 'Lizzie' shaved herself as meticulously as she could and then turned on the shower. While she showered, she pondered what kind of sick fuck the cop must be. He had a family! But clearly his wife didn't put it out often enough, she thought rudely.
She didn't dare to linger too long, she guessed Mike might get upset. She turned off the shower and realized there was no towel in sight.
"Sir? I'm ready, sir!" Lizzie hollered, already adapting to her part.
From behind the shower curtain, she heard the bathroom door open and Mike's voice said,"All your clothes are in the bag?"
"Yes, sir."
"I will leave your clothing for tonight here on top of the washing machine and here's the towel," he said and tossed her a towel over the shower curtain rod.
"I'll see you in the living room."
Lizzie dried herself and stepped out of the shower. All she could see on top of the washing machine was a long, thin, white nightshirt. She might have guessed. Lizzie put on the shirt and noticed at once that it was at least two sizes too small. Clearly the cop's wife was a petite one. The shirt had a few buttons on the top, but she barely managed to button them, the shirt stretching tightly over her chest. And even though the shirt was clearly meant to be knee-length, it barely reached to her mid-thigh. However, she didn't have a chance and wearing the shirt as instructed, she timidly padded to the living room.
Mike was sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand and watching TV. He turned towards her as she approached and smiled.
"Really nice, Lizzie. Now bring me another beer and I'd like to have it served between your breasts."
"Sir?" she replied, not quite understanding what he meant.
"Just put the bottle between your breasts and don't touch it with your hands," Mike said with clear annoyance in his voice.
"Yes, sir."
Still a bit confused, Lizzie went into the kitchen and got a cold beer from the fridge and opened it. She had to open a few of the top buttons of the shirt in order to accommodate the beer bottle between her breasts. Then she had to mash her breasts together with her hands in order to hold the bottle in place.
"So fucking stupid, " she thought, "he just wants to humiliate me but that's what those pigs like to do."
Lizzie went back to the living room. Without any further instructions, she knew she had to kneel in front of Mike in order to offer him an easy way to grab the bottle.
"That's a good girl," Mike said as he grabbed the beer even without looking at her.
Lizzie really wanted to snap back at him for treating her like a pet, but she just bit her tongue and kept her expression neutral as Mike sat in front of her, regularly sipping from the bottle and placing it back between her breasts. He finished the bottle and then she had to get him another one, in the similar way of course.
Mike finished the second bottle and suddenly asked her, "Lizzie, I've been wondering, what is your cup size?"
"It's a C, sir," she replied.
"Really? Put your hands behind your head so I can have a closer look," Mike ordered. Lizzie complied. She was still kneeling in front of him and he leaned closer, reaching his hands towards her. He massaged her breasts through the thin fabric, then unbuttoned the shirt and revealed her breasts.
Mike ogled her bare breasts for what felt like an eternity. Then he cupped them in his large hands and rolled his thumbs over her hard nipples. Lizzie couldn't avoid seeing a large bulk in his sweatpants.
"Really nice breasts, Lizzie. My wife has nice ones too but they're only an A cup. And your nipples, have they always been this perky?"
