cop sex

I suppose it had something to do with the fact that I am a cop, but somehow every woman I met seemed to think I was into bondage. It must be the cuffs, the uniform, and the billy club. I guess they all scream, “He’s kinky. He loves bondage.” Well, in my case, though not all cops are into it, they would be right.

My current lady love is another cop. She is actually my partner on the job as well as off and let me tell you I am one lucky man. Samantha, “Sammie,” is the perfect partner. The perfect by the book partner is definitely not how I would describe her. Quite frankly she has gone before the review board a few times for excessive force charges, but, Hell, if someone is watching my back I don’t want some completely p.c. asshole to be the one doing it.

It probably is cliché that I am dating my female partner, but who wouldn’t want to date a woman with supermodel looks, breasts so large you’d swear that they were surgically enhanced (although they are all natural), the sexual experience of a famous porn star, the legs of Raquel Welch in her heyday afflicted with a form of nymphomania—which is focused completely on me and fulfilling my every desire? Now Sammie is what you would call, as Hank Williams, Jr. put it a “big top woman.” She is a size 48F cup bra, but her waist is the perfect hourglass shape and that leads to the most toned set of tanned legs I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing or burying my face between. This woman is about 70 years out of date—she should have been the inspiration for those pin-up girls that adorned fighter jets and bombers in the 1940′s.

As if almost planned by some higher power I met a woman with an “S” as her first initial. What is so funny about that you may ask? My name is Michael! Our friends will refer to us as “S&M” if we end up a couple for an extended time. Some already refer to us that way. Sammie is a switch just like me so we are forever switching roles. For example, the other night when I walked through the door I was pushed face first to the floor and cuffed behind my back before I realized it was her. My god is she good at being the dominant. She had me blindfolded and gagged within 10 seconds of me hitting the floor, not to mention she cuffed me in that same period of time.

“Slut,” she said firmly, “your tongue is going to get a hell of a workout tonight but it will pale in comparison to the one your ass is about to receive.”

By not I had already dropped into my most submissive posture and attitude, at least the best I could do given my restricted speech abilities and movement (she was sitting on my ass all through all this). I know big ol’ 6’5″ tall, 225 pound me, definitely not something most would expect, especially as my partner is all of 5′ and that just barely. Somehow, though, submitting to someone that much smaller than me, one I could crush like a grape in one of my huge fists, seems to make the submission all that much more humiliating—and it is the humiliation, the submission, the adrenaline rush that I really get off on.

As she rolled me onto my back, not caring for the pain she was inflicting upon me, my weight made me exceedingly uncomfortable but not nearly as much as when she set her naked, wet, dripping pussy on my face covering both my mouth and nose. Simply put if I wanted to breathe I’d best well please her. Thankfully I’d been blessed with a tongue that was long enough to touch the center point of my nose and thick enough to be used as a flexible cock (and a talented one at that if I do say so). I pushed my tongue slowly between her labial lips, first the outer set then the inner ones as I deliberately worked towards my eventual targets: her clit and g-spot.

I was getting stiff in more ways than one—as she reached back and began to goad me on as she pulled my member out of my pants and started to stroke it. Of course my only responses were to grow rapidly in her warm hand and to lick her much warmer pussy even more. Sammie rode my face slowly, deliberately, forcefully and as she did I wrapped my tongue around her clit and teased it as mercilessly as she was manipulating my cock.

Slowly, tantalizingly so, Sammie gave me a handjob that was second to none I have ever had. Things got better though when she turned around and suddenly dropped her mouth on me to the root in a single shot. Noone can deep throat like my girl and, with the 16″ club I have hanging between my legs, I make sure she gets plenty of tonsil tickling practice often, especially when I am in charge.

Today, however, Sammie was all in charge as she got up pulling me with her and force marching me to our playroom in the basement. Again, it is another cliché being in the basement and all, but, if it makes you feel better, we also have another really well soundproofed dungeon in the attic. Between the two dungeons we have some of the most devious devices designed by the mind of man. Everything from the most basic crosses to the most intricate suspension bondage slings and chairs. Thanks heaven for Home Depot & Lowe’s they are the bondage enthusiasts’ best friends.

Our toys are all made to be easily adjustable and handcrafted by Sammie and I, although I must admit she is better at making the implements and I am better at making the larger toys so that is generally how we split the work.

A crop made by Sammie is a toy definitely worth having so, as a sideline, she and I started making and selling our toys online. Not only has this created a great amount of supplemental income in our spare time but it has also allowed us to travel more. Of course we do have to test all our products personally, either with each other or the end users so we can make appropriate adjustments as necessary.

Needless to say as a result we have quite a number of people into the lifestyle we both live. As a matter of fact most we correspond with on a regular basis via email or, in a few cases, snail mail.

I suppose that is getting off track a bit, but it is a good background on me. Anyway, as she force marched me to the basement I could sense her dominant side coming more and more to the forefront. Sammie’s dominant side is a very powerful alter ego named Mistress Vixen and she is an extremely sensual, sexual and forceful personality indeed. Today, in one of her not unusual acts of dominance, she put me on a spinning St. Andrew’s cross in the center of the basement after first threatening to cut my clothes off of me if I didn’t get naked fast enough for her. I was naked in seconds after she uncuffed me.

The St. Andrew’s was massive cross attached to an even larger, rotating wheel. Today Mistress was in the mood to play very rough—there was no lining in the cuffs today—just heavy stainless steel cuffed buffed to a high shine during my last stint in Mistress Vixen’s service. Luckily the cuffs are tight enough and adjustable enough, to allow absolutely no movement within them, otherwise when Mistress Vixen plays her favorite game of “Spin the Slut” I would be in real trouble.

“Spin the Slut”—it sure as shooting beats “Wheel of Fortune” (although that name would be appropriate too since how she spins determines what my fortune, my future is to be). Mistress Vixen blindfolds me during this game. The blindfold serves a dual purpose: 1) It makes it so I am less likely to get too dizzy and puke (never fun) and 2) It makes it so I can not see what my fortune is to be and what is coming.

As I slow down towards the end of the spin I realize I am going to land upside down. This is comfortable for short periods but not long ones as the blood rushing to your head gives you a heck of a headache, then, when the rest of the blood starts to run back towards your head the pressure increases to the intensity of a migraine while your legs gradually go numb.

While I am contemplating what is eventually going to happen to me Mistress Vixen is doing the same thing, although her thoughts are considerably different from mine. The grin that must be spreading across her face, judging by the giggling, tells me that I am indeed in for something unusual and different. Goose pimples spread across my body in anticipation of what is to come next.

“Well, slut,” she said, “it looks like you are in for a treat indeed. You get #15.”

Slowly it dawned on me what #15 was. You see we put sealed envelopes with what is to be done on the outside of the wheel—and I wrote all the odd numbered ones. #15 involved leaving all of my recipient’s clothes at home, driving naked to a distant playmate’s house, awaiting them coming to the door on the recipient’s knees and then offering them their services for the weekend. Of course who I went to required that the wheel be spun again!

Round and round and round I went and when the wheel stopped I was spent. Mistress Vixen I could almost hear grinning as she saw to whom I was going to go. “Well slut,” she said, “it seems you have a long drive ahead of you. I hope the car has a full tank of gas.”

I groaned. It was running on empty!

“Mistress Viviane will just love the surprise I am sending her,” she intoned.

“Great,” I thought, “400 miles to go and no gas.” God only know how long it will take to get arrested.”

“Mistress,” I said, “may I be allowed to wear clothes to fill the tank before I leave?”

“Slut,” she said, “I will give you a sporting chance. One last spin, heads up means yes, head down equals no.”

The wheel was given its most powerful spin yet. I could feel that I was not going to make it, I had to do something so I struggled hoping that I had enough influence to be allowed to wear clothes. Lucky for me I was. Unluckily for me Mistress saw this and decided that in punishment I would have to drive all the way with my smallest cock cage on, locked, and an anal plug/vibrator inserted in me and set to a medium setting.

I groaned yet again. Mistress Viviane lived in the boondocks and the last 50 miles to her place is the worst rutted road I’ve ever driven. Mistress could see how torn and conflicted I was. I love Mistress Viviane’s treatment of me but this trip would leave me severely on edge (nervous), excessive horny and mentally and physically exhausted.

Mistress Vixen, recognizing my predicament, did what anyone else in her shoes would do—she watched me squirm and enjoyed every moment of it. I could tell this as much as I could hear her moving around me laughing and giggling. Being as I created the punishment must have made it all the sweeter for her knowing full well this was a punishment intended for her.

Mistress Vixen released me from my bonds, removed the blindfold, attached the cock cage and inserted the anal plug.

“Wait,” she said, “I missed something.” Mistress then attached nipple clamps on me very tightly. “Keep these on until you are back from the gas station.”

I started the car up and pulled out squealing tires on the way to my local gas station. Suddenly I realized she probably watched me pull out and would not approve of how I did so. Ahhh well my ass would have to pay for it later.

Every moment I was gone it seemed as if everyone knew my secret and was waiting to see what I’d do. The lithe black woman with the large breasts and the long reddish brown colored hair looked at me intensely. I did not know her but it seemed as if she knew me, knew who and more importantly what I was and am. I was making record time filling up and was about to leave when suddenly I felt a small hand near my cock which went rock hard instantly.

A quiet voice whispered to me, “Slut are you prepared to be used properly?”

I hesitated.

“Of course you are dear. I’ll even wager you have no underwear on under those shorts,” she said as she reached up the leg of them.

I blushed, but was so totally enthralled by what was happening that again I did not move.

Mistress was waiting on me, another Mistress who had no idea I was coming was being held up and the woman, who knew my secret somehow, was massaging my cock and balls in full public view although I did not know her at all. Purring escaped my lips as she pleasured me. I felt as if I was about to cum when she removed her hand from what she could reach of my rampant member and slipped her phone number into my pants and her tongue into my ear to tease me. “I’ll please you more,” she said breathily, “when you call that number and arrange the time for it.”

Needless to say Mistress Vixen was not pleased when I arrived back home. The look on her face said I was in trouble beyond measure. The look on my face must have told her something happened because the pain of my hardness confined must have shown on my face without any doubt. After all, while my unknown assailant fondled me I was wearing a very tight cock cage. Being the good slut Sammie loves me to be I immediately told her all about it. Unfortunately, as much as she loved the story and it excited her, it had the effect of exciting me and made me feel the pain of my confinement again.

Mistress Vixen, after hearing this decided to have some pity on me. She removed the cock cage and instead attached an acrylic, shaped cock tube which left most of my cock exposed through various holes in it. It also left my cockhead fully exposed and engorged and my balls hung loose and available beneath the unique contraption. The fiendish device allowed me to grow in length but contained my girth. So as I grew hard I grew long but the pain increased as well as my cock tried to expand but was unable.

As Mistress locked this device to me, took my clothes and pushed me towards the car she grinned knowing what I’d be like by the time I arrived.

7 hours, 40 minutes later I arrived at Mistress Viviane’s house only to find that she was not at home. So, as I kneeled down naked at her door to await her, I started to think about how my life had gotten to this point.

Sammie, my lovely partner, and I both had our love of bondage but neither of us knew the other did until one day, one intense night actually, in New York City. (The funny thing is that we are both partners in crime, so to speak, in the town of Waterbury, Connecticut). It was the third Saturday of the month and that meant it was auction night at Paddles, my usual hang out (it was the 1st place I went when I got into the scene and I’d been going there, and a few other places, ever since). Sammie appeared on stage, head downcast, wearing an outfit that would be illegal outside the club in about 50 states, 3 territories and probably even a few European countries.

As the auctioneer, a long-legged blonde-haired previously dyke Mistress, appeared on stage I winked at her showing how much I’d appreciate it if I won the current slave. Now, like I said, she was a previously dyke Mistress—the previous came from the fact that after I’d gotten a hold of her, or, more precisely, she’d gotten a hold of my sweet fuckstick, that changed. It seemed that she’d been turned off of men because they all wanted to control her too roughly and so she had switched.

Although I am a switch and dominate women from time to time I prefer a more sensual approach to domination, especially through the extreme use of exacting control coupled with orgasm denial. In other words the woman on the stage, my personal slut slave, had not cum in nearly a month and a half and would do whatever it would take to be allowed to cum. Her willingness to accede to my wishes was proven right to me right from the start and I could see now that she was doing exactly what I wished as she ever so subtly influenced the buyers away from purchasing her soon to be partner and sister slave.

Eventually, as expected, I won the auction for Sammie. Imagine her surprise when she found out that her partner at work had just bought her—even if the money was fake the amount still was staggering nonetheless. Once she was led to me, as she looked up into my eyes, she fainted dead away. It was into my large hands that she fell.

“Wh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-a-a-a-t happened,” she stuttered.

“You fainted partner.” Some tough cop you are,” I jested with her.

“Damn it Jonathan,” she intoned.

“No dear, it is Master Jonathan now,” I articulated to her.

“Yes Sir,” she said as she once again assumed the proper submissive demeanor.

I watched carefully as my partner realized that I had indeed changed her life and it would never be the same from now on.

“My dear,” I began, “now that we have a better understanding of our lifestyles perhaps we should expand upon that knowledge.”

Her eyes were pleading with me. The only question was how her life was changing. Did she wish to remain my slave? Be released? Dominate me? No longer work as my partner since I knew her secret?

“Sammie,” I said, “I always suspected you were different in some way. Your present position verifies that to me. Quite frankly it tells me a few things: 1)That you are a woman of great strength since you and I both know what it takes to submit to another 2)That you know what you desire better than most women—most women can’t admit that—they desire to be dominated, even if it is exactly what they want, need and desire 3)That you trust me and this is exactly what I desire, and already possess, I could not be your partner otherwise.”

Her eyes told me that I indeed was speaking to her head, but also that her heart was in charge. As I approached her I looked longingly into her eyes silently letting her know I would neither betray her secret nor would I betray her—ever!

“Sammie, my love,” I said, “I will tell you this now, I am a switch. Today you caught the attention of my dominant side; however, there will be times when I prefer to submit to you. Are you okay with this?”

“Yes Master,” she said.

“Further,” I continued, “just so you know I have a stable of woman whom are my slaves. They each know of the others, and, have on occasion, shared my special attentions as well as each other. Does this offend you dear?”

“No Master,” she said hesitantly.

“You hesitated, why,” I said, “And do not leave out any details.”

“Because Master,” she said, “I am bisexual. Or, I should say, I want to be. I’ve yet to be with another woman.”

“And what would your ideal woman look like?” I inquired.

“Well,” she said sheepishly, “do you remember that woman we backed up when we helped out the vice squad last year? I think her name was Jamie Sommers. She is my type.”

I searched my memory for the face of the first looie on the vice squad we were helping. She was the typical California bleach blonde long legs and all.

“Yes,” I said after a minute or so, “I recall her well.”

“I should,” I thought, “She is one of the ones in my stable of slaves.”

“And what about her exactly attracts you,” I asked nonchalantly.

“Her long legs for one,” she said, “They look like they were made expressly for the purpose of wrapping around a lover’s neck or waist during sex. Also, I must admit I would love to dive face first into both her tight looking ass and her veiled pussy.”

“Ok. Anything else that intrigues you about her?”

“Yes. Frankly how she manages to stay standing on those rather severe fuck me pumps she wears all the time, especially given the way she is so top heavy. That, combined with the fact her nipples seem to be permanently erect, really does it for me.”

“So you really are attracted to women then,” I said, “This is no mere fascination.”

“Yes Master,” she said.

“Well then dear,” I said, “only one question remains.” Her face was looking at me questioningly as I spoke. “Do you wish to be my slave 24/7/365 or just to play here tonight?”

Her answer, without hesitation, “24/7 Sir.”

It was at that moment that Mistress Viviane showed up.

“Well my dear,” she said as I looked at the ground, “it seems something has excited you. Let us take care of that shall we?”

What happened next? If you are interested let me know. After all, things get a bit wilder from here.

September 2018
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