Doctor Lawyer Police Chief

Doctor, Lawyer… Police Chief by Kimberly Zant

© copyright August 2003 by Kimberly Zant Cover Art by Eliza Black 2003 (c) copyright August 2003 New Concepts Publishing www.newconceptspublishing.com

I’d become a desperate woman. Like everyone else, I suppose, I had a tendency to think I was a special victim of life. The world was out to get me. Everything turned out far worse for me than anyone else. Nothing was ever going to go right for me again. Or was it just pay back time because things had been easy before? In a very real sense of the word, my marriage had been arranged. My domineering father had introduced me to the junior partner in his law firm considered most likely to succeed. My husband had been his partner, his protégé … the son he hadn’t had and wished he’d had … a chip off the old block. Before I knew it, I was married, and thereafter ignored. I’d served my purpose. I’d cemented the bond between the two men in my life.

To all outward appearances, I had it all … beautiful home, powerful husband ... expensive car … expensive everything. The only problem was, I had nothing. My father had had everything while I lived under his roof. I was passed on to another man who owned everything, including me. And once he’d attained the position of power that had been his goal, I was discarded just as conveniently as I’d been acquired. My father washed his hands of me. He’d done his best for me and I’d failed. I wasn’t sure how, but I was left in no doubt that I had. My husband, being a lawyer, was in the perfect position to fuck me as he never had when we were married--three ways from Sunday. Everyone went home satisfied but me. I didn’t go home at all, because I found myself homeless. A former college girl friend had picked me up and dusted me off. She’d told me it was time to stiffen my spine and stand on my own two feet. She was looking thirty dead in the eye, just like I was, but she had a life. She’d never submitted to a strong willed man. She’d made her own way. She owned her own home, owned her own everything. Unlike me, she’d acquired them the new fashioned way—she’d bought them herself. I rather thought I deserved a little more time feeling sorry for myself, but I found I was as easily dominated by my domineering friend as I had been by my domineering father and ex-husband. I got up because she told me to, and looked around to see what I could do to make my own way. There wasn’t much to choose from. I had a BA, but that didn’t amount to much these days, particularly when I hadn’t focused on anything in particular. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. If only life was dyslexic! Foresight could be twenty/twenty instead of hindsight! I didn’t have a lot of time to spend exploring options. My friend was generous to a fault, and patient, but I was expected to fulfill her belief in me, make something of myself and repay her the money she’d fronted me to get back on my feet. She used her connections to help me get a job at a physicians clinic, owned by four wealthy surgeons—one female and three male--plastic surgeons. My job description was receptionist. In actuality, however, I was the gofer in training. It wasn’t the sort of job that was going to take me places, but I liked it well enough. Two of the male doctors were single--one a bachelor and the other divorced, like me. The single doctor was at least a nine on the hunk meter. The other, who was some years older, was at least a seven. Briefly, I fantasized about becoming a doctor’s wife. My room mate was brutally honest when I expressed my daydreams, pointing out that I was only a little more than passably pretty—certainly not beautiful—that I had nothing to bring to a marriage but myself, and no man of means took on a ‘dower-less’ female these days unless she was: one--drop dead gorgeous; and two--barely nubile.

I descended into self-pity again because I knew she right, but I was growing as a person. The pity party didn’t last long, and I left it because I was ready to go. Privately, I had detected a flaw in my room mate’s perspective. She had never been married, so she wasn’t competent to judge the estate. I had made a mistake, but I wasn’t convinced that marriage was something to be avoided. I just needed to be smarter this time around. And I had to figure out how to build a dowry that would make me acceptable as a prospective spouse—while I was still young enough to also be physically desirable. I allowed one of the patients to talk me into taking night classes in real estate. My room mate was supportive, but doubtful. She didn’t come right out and say it, but I knew what she thought. I was a submissive wimp. How could I make it in sales? Thus, my time of desperation arrived. I was on the eve of my first sale. If I landed it, my commission was not only going to boost my confidence, it would pick me up by the seat of my pants and pitch me in the right direction for a change … toward financial independence--or that dowry I needed, whichever way I decided to go. The problem was, no one thought I could do it, including me. I had decided to drive down to the property the day before and rehearse all day for the ‘big’ day. Confidence didn’t come naturally to me, but acting always had. I managed to convince myself that as long as I had plenty of time to work myself into the role of ‘successful real estate agent’ I could pull it off. The property was magnificent. The prospective buyers had already been hooked. All I had to do was make sure they were in love by the time I was finished showing them that beauty and I’d land the biggest sale anyone in my office had ever landed. My room mate was thoughtful when I told her my plans. She surprised me by telling me she thought I was right. I needed something to bolster my confidence if I was to have a chance of pulling it off. She offered me the use of her second car—the one she’d kept for sentimental reasons when she’d made partner and purchased her Mercedes. Her ‘second’ car was nearly four years old, but had been a high end model and it looked far more ‘successful’ than I was so I was thrilled to have it, particularly since I would’ve had to figure out a way to rent a car if she hadn’t loaned it to me. I didn’t want to ask, but money was also a consideration. As if she’d read my mind, she asked me if I needed a small cash loan to tide me over. Grateful, I told her I did. She took ‘the book’ from her briefcase, the one we’d agreed would be used to record my debts and wrote the amount in it, then pulled her wallet out and counted the money over to me. I initialed the book, closing my mind to my mounting debt. I was going to make the sale and when I did, I’d be able to repay her every cent she’d been kind enough to loan me, and I’d still have enough left over to get my own place and start my new life. She stopped me as I turned to go. When I turned back to her, I saw she was holding a business card. “What’s that for?” I asked. She flicked the card with a nail, frowning slightly, then thrust the card at me. “This is your ‘get out of jail

free’ card. I know some of the cops in that area. If you run into any trouble, just show them this card.” I took the card and looked at it doubtfully. “You think I’ll have trouble?” She shrugged. “You never know. You might run a stop sign or something.” I wasn’t the best of drivers. I’d had more than one close call. “So, if I get pulled over, I just show the cop the card?” “I don’t know them all--just several of them. If it happens to be a friend of mine, he’ll probably just let you off with a warning. It depends on their mood, of course.” I smiled at her. “Thanks!” She stopped me again when I reached the door. I turned back questioningly. “If you should get stopped, and the cop recognizes my card, he might offer to let you pay the fine directly to him.” I frowned. “Can they do that?” She shrugged. “Anybody can do anything they can get away with.” “Should I pay it, then?” “Only if you’re willing to. If you’re not, or become uncomfortable, just say ‘stop’.” That sounded strangely cryptic, but I thanked her again. I arrived at my destination without incident and rented a cheap room before driving out to the property. I spent the first few hours studying over all the unique features and every conceivable advantage to owning such a piece of prime real estate. I knew what the imperfections were, so I looked for everything I could find that would counter every down side. Finally, deciding I was well armed with arguments, I began rehearsing. Before I knew it, the day had flown by. I only became aware of the time that had passed when I realized it was becoming too dark to see. Finally, reasonably satisfied, I locked up and headed back toward my hotel room. Doubts began to surface almost immediately. It was my biggest impediment to success. No matter how hard I worked to build up my confidence, I simply could not sustain it for any length of time. I suppose it was my distraction that became my ultimate downfall. I wasn’t big on self honesty, but the truth was I didn’t exactly stop at the stop sign. I sort of … oozed through it. I braked, glanced both ways and accelerated again. I hadn’t noticed the cop that was tailing me, further proof of my distraction. The sudden ‘whoop’ of his siren, the flashing lights, sent terror flooding through me. I slammed on the brakes so abruptly, he almost rammed the rear of the car.

“Pull over!” It was like the voice of God. His command, bursting from the bullhorn mounted on the roof of his car seemed to come from everywhere at once. I was so weak from fear by that time I could barely steer the car or press the gas pedal, but I managed to pull the car over on the shoulder of the road. It was fully dark by now. Once I’d turned off the car and my headlights, I discovered it was like sitting in a cave. I hadn’t realized how dark the countryside was at night. There wasn’t a house in sight. I glanced in my rear view mirror. The cop car was as ominous as a fire breathing dragon, crouched threateningly behind my poor little car. He didn’t turn off the flashing lights, much to my consternation. Slowly, embarrassment began to take the upper hand of fear. I knew very well I wasn’t likely to run into anyone I knew … I was well off my own turf. No one who knew me was going to drive by and recognize me. And I was still embarrassed. The slamming of a car door drew my attention to my rear view mirror again. The cop was huge! He looked like he must be seven feet tall and built like a weight lifter! Maybe it was my imagination? He tapped on my window. I jumped, rolled the window down as fast as I could, and discovered I was staring at his crotch. Maybe my imagination hadn’t been as far off as I’d thought? He bent over. Despite his headlights, or maybe because of them, his hat, pulled down low, cast deep shadow over the top part of his face. All I could see was the lower half of his face. It was hard and angular; his nose a blade, his chin obstinate, his jaw clean. His mouth was a straight, hard line without so much as a hint of a smile. He had one hand on his revolver. “License and registration, ma’am.” I fumbled with my purse and managed to dig my license out. My hand, I saw when I handed it to him, was shaking. I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t look the least moved by the fact that he’d terrorized me. He glanced down at my license, shining his flashlight on it then in my face. I was dazzled momentarily by the blinding light. “Insurance?” he asked. “The card’s in the glove box,” I said shakily. “Should I get it?” “Yes, ma’am.”

I opened the glove box. Fortunately, my friend was a stickler for organization. I didn’t have any trouble finding the card. I handed it to him. “This your car, ma’am?” “It belongs to a friend of mine. She loaned it to me for the trip. I sell real estate. I have a piece of property to show in the morning. I drove down tonight so I’d be here early to show it in the morning.” I realized I was babbling. I wasn’t even sure if what I’d said made any sense. He nodded, turned without a word and walked to the back of the car to look at the tag. I chewed my nails, watching him in the rear view mirror. After a moment, he moved back to his own vehicle and got in. I wondered if that meant I was free to go, but then I realized he still had my license and the insurance card. He hadn’t said I could go. I was working on my third fingernail when he got out of his car and started back toward me. He handed me the cards. “Could you step out of the vehicle for a moment, ma’am?” I gaped at him. This sounded bad. I looked around a little helplessly, as if some knight on a white charger was going to appear on my horizon. It was then that I remembered the card my friend had given me. “I….” He stepped back, his hand on the butt of his pistol. “Step out of the vehicle, now.” I broke my remaining fingernails off trying to get the door open. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” “Face the vehicle please.” I did. “My friend is a lawyer. She loaned me the car,” I babbled senselessly, trying to figure out how I was going to flaunt my ‘get out of jail free’ card now, when I couldn’t even get to it. “If you’ll just let me get my purse….” “Hands on the hood of the car. Do it! Now!” I put my hands on the hood. “She gave me a card,” I said weakly, and told him her name. “Don’t move!” He reached into the car and pulled my purse out, then tossed it onto the hood beside me. I fumbled for the card and handed it to him. He studied it in the light of his flashlight, then tucked it in his shirt pocket. “Eyes forward.” I looked at the black screen of forest that crept up almost to my car. Not a single car had passed us. I was grateful. I didn’t want to be seen being arrested. “I want you to lean forward and lie down on the hood with your arms outstretched.”

The hood was warm, but I didn’t argue. I bent over it, laid my cheek against it, my arms stretched out over my head. “Spread your legs.” I shifted. “Wider.” I moved my legs further apart. He moved up behind me, kicking the sides of my shoes, forcing my legs further and further apart until I began to wonder if I could keep my balance. He leaned over me, ran a hand over my back, then ran his hands over my sides. “Raise up.” I pushed up with my arms. He ran his hands under them, cupping a breast in each hand. “Do you have anything concealed on your body?” “Uh … no.” He tugged my blouse from the waist band of my skirt, ran his hands up under it and then slipped first one hand and then the other into my bra cups. I jerked in surprise. “Don’t move!” I swallowed, held my breath, held perfectly still while he fondled my breasts, pushed them up so that the demi cups I was wearing were tucked beneath my breasts. He pinched my nipples. I jumped. “I said, don’t move.” His voice was a low growl, right beside my ear, sending shivers of awareness through me. My mind was a whirl by now. I shouldn’t have been aroused by his touch, but the plain fact was that I was. But I was also confused. What was going on here? Finally, apparently satisfied, he removed his hands and moved back a little. I felt his hands on my legs next. He ran them all the way up each leg in turn and finally crowded close against me again. Grasping the back of my neck, he held me pinned to the hood of the car. “Hold still. I have to do a body cavity search.” My eyes widened at that, but, before I could protest, I felt him slide his other hand under the leg of my panties. He ran one finger down the crack of my ass to my clit, separating the folds of flesh, tweaking my clit before he inserted one finger inside of me. I tensed, uncertain of what to expect, trying to ignore the fact that it felt really good.

He moved his finger around inside of me, pulled it out a little way, then pushed it in again. He leaned over me as he worked his finger in and out, pulling all the way out to tease my clit, then pushing in again. “You ran that stop sign back there.” I was feeling more than a little breathless. “Technically, I didn’t. I just sort of--oozed through it.” “You ran it. There’s a hefty fine for running a stop sign in my county.” I was having a hard time concentrating. Dimly, however, I recalled what my friend had told me. “I’ll pay it,” I said a little breathlessly. “I haven’t told you what it is, yet.” If it was anything like the ‘punishment’ I was currently receiving, I wasn’t against it. “I’ll do whatever you think is necessary.” He withdrew his finger. I was immensely disappointed. I’d been so close to climax. Reaching up, he grasped one of my wrists and forced it behind my back, then reached for the other. Something cold closed around my wrists. My heart skipped a beat as the realization struck me that I’d just been handcuffed. He righted me and marched me past my friend’s car to the patrol car. Opening the back door, he pushed me inside. “Lie on your stomach.” “But … but where are you taking me?” He was silent for several moments. “To pay your fine.” Obediently, I lay down across the seat, bending my knees up behind me. He stared at me a moment, then leaned inside and grasped my panties. Peeling them down my legs, he tossed them aside and then flipped my skirt up and popped my buttocks sharply. “No more questions, understand?” I nodded. As he closed the door and drove off, I wondered what I’d gotten myself in to. It seemed we drove for a very long time. I wasn’t particularly comfortable, and I was tense. I realized, however, that it wasn’t fear, but sexual frustration. I wasn’t even sure I could remember the last time I’d had real sex. My husband had virtually ignored me for years—I was his last choice as sexual partner. For all the good it had done me, I hadn’t dared even consider dating during the divorce process. And I’d been far too busy trying to get my life in order afterwards to even strike up an acquaintance with a man. I’d resorted to my trusty dildo a few times, but, except for self-gratification, I hadn’t had a climax in months and it had been longer than that since a man had touched me. I’d heard of policemen willing to take sex in exchange for a ticket, but this seemed way off the beaten track. My breasts, released from the prison of my bra, teased, but not fulfilled, ached for attention, making it hard for me to concentrate on anything else—beyond my bare ass, that is.

Finally, we stopped. I waited, hopeful, more than a little nervous. The back door opened. I tried to twist around to look at him. “Be still. Face forward. You’re not to speak, or make any sound at all, unless you’re allowed! Nod if you understand.” I nodded. He left the car door open and walked away. I was tempted to see if I could twist around and see what he was doing, but I was afraid I wouldn’t get what I hoped was coming if I didn’t obey. In a few minutes, he was back. He wasn’t alone, however. I knew that even before the other man spoke. “She’s decided to work out her fine. I’m off duty in an hour. You’ve got her till then.” My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected this. Instinctively, I tried to shift so I could see who the other man was. Someone popped my ass. “What were you told?” I went still. “Good girl.” In a moment, my ankles were grasped and I was pulled backwards until my feet were touching the ground. I could not get up. My hands were still bound behind me by the cuffs. My skirt, which had fallen down, was flipped up over me again. Someone ran a hand over my ass, spread my ass cheeks. Something long and hard slipped between them. I felt myself go wet with anticipation, lifted my hips hopefully. Instead of feeling the cock sliding into me, however, it was withdrawn. Disappointment swamped me. My arms were grasped and I was hauled upright. “Be a good girl and I’ll fuck you senseless when I get back.” I swallowed with some difficulty. “What do I have to do?” I asked, breaking the rule of silence. “Whatever Doc tells you to do.” The other man grasped my arm, urging me to go with him. I glanced back at the cop as he got into his patrol car without a backward glance and started it. The tug on my arm brought my attention back to my current situation and I turned to glance at the man who was pulling me along.

Unfortunately, it was too dark to tell much about his face. I got the impression that, like the cop, this man was young—by my standards, anyway--somewhere in his early thirties, I thought. He was also tall, more slender than the cop, but, from what I could see, well built. He was wearing a white lab coat. I considered that while he led me through the garage and into a kitchen. I knew it was a kitchen. Even though it was dark, the appliances were easily distinguishable in the shadows. He pulled me to a stop as we reached a closed door. Opening it, he flicked a switch on the wall inside. Lights glowed to life, but these were not bright, intrusive lights. They were muted, reminiscent of a darkened club or expensive restaurant. Gripping my arm snugly, he ushered me down a flight of stairs. I was astonished when I saw the room. It looked like a doctor’s examining room. I wasn’t sure I liked the looks of it. He pushed me toward a table that looked a lot like a gynecologist’s table. Pulling my skirt up so that my lower body was exposed, he told me to sit. I glanced back, saw a little step and stepped up, then sat on the edge of the table as I’d been told. He moved away, behind me. I was tempted, of course, to look to see what he was doing, but I’d been told not to do or say anything except what I’d been ordered to do. I remained still. In a moment, I felt his hands on mine, heard the click as the handcuff was removed from one wrist. “Lie back.” I lay back. He grasped both my wrists and lifted them over my head. I felt the cuff circle the wrist he’d freed, heard a click. Instinctively, I tried to lower my arms. I discovered I couldn’t move them. I glanced at the man with a touch of alarm and discovered that he had a surgeon’s mask over the lower part of his face. My heart skipped several beats, but he moved away, ignoring my uneasiness. Grasping one foot, he lifted my leg, pulled my heel off and tossed it aside, then placed my foot in one stirrup. Moving over, he repeated the process with my other leg. I was more confused than ever. It was far too much like a pelvic exam to be anything sexual, I decided. I didn’t noticed the straps on the stirrups until he’d fastened them around my ankles. Apparently satisfied, he moved my skirt up until it was bunched around my waist, then he moved around me and opened my blouse. My breasts were half in and half out of my bra cups, which had shifted. He very carefully scooped my breasts from the cups and bunched the cups beneath them so that they lifted my breasts and thrust them forward without covering them in any way. Moisture saturated my sex as I watched him.

He looked at me for several moments, then, holding my gaze, lowered his mask and slowly bent over me. I watched, mesmerized as he opened his mouth over my nearest breast. The pleasure was exquisite. My nipples had throbbed for attention ever since the cop had handled them, teasing them without the satisfaction of a thorough fondling. I groaned as he suckled my nipple hard, teased it with his tongue. He released my breast. “You’re not to speak. You’re not to make a sound. This is your final warning.” I swallowed with some difficulty. Nodded. He moved around the table. I braced myself when he leaned over me and opened his mouth over my other breast. My head swam as he sucked, nipped me with the edge of his teeth. I gasped, panted, fought hard to restrain myself from groaning as pleasure ran along my nerve endings. Finally, he lifted his head. My heart was thundering in my chest. My sex was flooded with moisture, aching for possession. I was breathing so raggedly, I thought I would pass out … but I hadn’t made a sound. After studying me for several moments, he started around the table again. I watched him, certain he would fondle my other breast again. Instead, he grasped a stool and sat, rolling it forward until he was between my legs. I tried to lift my head to see what he was doing but discovered the restraints on my wrists wouldn’t allow it. The table shifted. The stirrups holding my legs swung outward, parting my legs as far as they would go. He grasped my hips, pulling me toward him until I could feel air against my buttocks, knew I was hanging off the edge. I felt his finger testing my flesh, then slowly, he slid his finger inside of me. My belly clenched. I managed, just barely, to restrain myself from groaning with pleasure. He withdrew his finger. Something hot and wet settled over my sex. I knew, even before I felt the suction of his mouth that that was what it was. I tensed, bucked as his tongue flicked out, teasing my clit. It took an effort to swallow a cry as he sucked my clit into his mouth, sucking it, nudging it with his tongue. He released it. I panted, tried to brace myself for the next assault. His tongue flicked out, began to flick against my clit. I wasn’t ready for it. Pleasure shot through me and I groaned before I could stop myself. He stopped at once. Rose from the stool and moved away from me. Stunned, I could only watch in disbelief. It dawned on me finally that I’d been ordered not to make a sound. If I made a sound, I’d be punished. This was the punishment. I was denied.

I swallowed. Dare I beg for his return? Or, since I’d been forbidden to speak, would that only bring more, or worse punishment? What could be worse than being left hot and bothered? “Please! I won’t do it again! I swear it!” He stopped, pivoted slowly until he was facing me. “You were warned. You are not to speak. You are not to make a sound.” I swallowed. What did me mean by that? Was he saying I was going to get punished again, and worse, for speaking? Or was he merely reminding me that I’d agreed to the terms demanded? He disappeared behind a curtain. When he returned, he was carrying a tray. I thought at first that it was medical instruments, but when he set the tray down, I saw that it contained a number of what I guessed were sex toys. I recognized some of them. Most, I did not. He left again. When he came back, he was carrying a cup, which he set down on the tray. He took a seat on the stool then, saying nothing, merely watching me. My body cooled. Where, moments before, it had throbbed with the promise of fulfillment, it ached with disappointment. I stared at the ceiling, damning him, damning myself. I’d spent my entire life doing just what I was told to do. Now, for the first time, I desperately wanted to do what I had been told to do, and I couldn’t. I hardened my resolve. If he gave me another chance, I would do exactly what I’d been told—if it killed me. “I’ve decided to give you another chance.” Relief flooded me. “First, though, you have to prove yourself worthy.” I frowned, wondering how I was going to prove that. “First you have to prove that you’re willing to do whatever I demand, no questions asked. Do you think you can do that?” I was a little uncertain, since I wasn’t clear on what I might be commanded to do, but I nodded. He got up and moved to the table. Freeing my ankles, he lifted my feet from the stirrups. Next, he moved to the head of the table and unlocked my wrists. My knees were weak and almost folded under me as he helped me from the table. He forced me to face the table, then pulled my wrists behind my back once more and secured them as they had been. Helping me right myself, he took my shoulders and turned me to face him once more. “Stay.” As I watched, he moved to the tray, studied it for several moments and then removed a series of clips that looked like the ones pot smokers had once referred to—and perhaps still did—as gator clips. The clips—there were three of them—were connected by a small chain. A dark wire was connected at another point, which led to a small, black box that reminded me of a remote—in general shape and size. Obviously, it wasn’t a remote. It was connected to the wire. I studied it curiously as he moved toward me with the strange gadget. Standing in front of me, he tucked the black ‘remote’ in the center space of

my bra. He grasped my nipples then, tweaking them until they stood erect, then carefully clipped a gator clip to each one. I tensed, expecting pain. There was a slight pinch, but little more than his fingers produced. He knelt in front of me. “Spread your legs.” I complied, watching, feeling my pulse accelerate as he parted the flesh surrounding my sex and very carefully attached the third clip to my clit. He stood then and reached for the ‘remote’. I heard the click of a button. A moment later, a tiny jolt—like a static charge, went through each nipple and my clit. I gasped, but clamped my lips together as pleasure surged through me. He grasped my shoulders, forcing me to my knees, then slowly opened his lab coat. He was completely naked beneath the coat. His cock was rock hard, erect and--big. I swallowed, staring at it. The steady, but intermittent shocks had brought me fully aroused once more. I wanted that cock inside of me so badly I could taste it. He lifted his cock, offering it. “Suck me and I’ll consider sliding this in your pussy and giving you release.” I’d never been a huge fan of giving head. I loved having my pussy sucked. It was the only way I could cum and something my ex-husband had rarely done for me. I wasn’t sure I actually wanted it in my pussy, at least not until he’d made me cum. But, perhaps, if I pleased him, he’d give me what I wanted? I opened my mouth, leaned forward. He grasped the back of my head and pushed the head of his cock into my mouth. I relaxed my jaws, allowing him to push further still. He groaned. Apparently, he was allowed to voice his pleasure. That was all right. I could live with it. I sucked, moving my head back and forth in counter to his own movements. “Suck me dry and I’ll make you cum till you scream for mercy.” I sucked. I ran my tongue around the rim of the head of his cock. He moved faster and faster. The little electric shocks vibrating through my clit and my nipples seemed to come faster and harder with every movement I made. My head swam. My heart thundered in my chest. I could feel myself climbing toward release. He grasped my head suddenly, pushed his cock deeply into my mouth. His cock jerked. Something hot struck the back of my throat. I swallowed reflexively, turned on more than I would ever have imagined possible by the fact that I’d made him cum. He began to pull away. I sucked harder, feeling my own release pending. Like an elusive sneeze, it lingered on the edge, just out of reach. He pulled away. I was gasping, still reeling, still hovering at the brink. He switched the little box off and the pleasure ceased abruptly. Without thinking, I groaned in frustration.

He lifted me and sat me on the table behind me, shaking his head. “You were doing good.” I surveyed him petulantly as he removed the lovely little clips that had given me so much pleasure. He moved behind me, removed one cuff as he had before and pushed me down on the table. Lifting my arms, he secured them once more above my head before moving down the table and placing my legs, one by one, in the stirrups. My nipples throbbed. My clit throbbed harder. The cool air against the heated, moist flesh of my sex did nothing to cool me. He moved to the tray, lifted the cup and took a long drink from it. Without a word, he returned to his position on the stool, rolled between my legs and placed his mouth on my throbbing clit. Expecting heat, the shock of his cold mouth nearly made my heart stop. I gasped, tried to move away. I couldn’t. My stomach clenched. I gritted my teeth. He tweaked my clit with his tongue, sucked, nudged it again. Slowly, the cold escaped his mouth and warmth replaced it. Pleasure dispelled discomfort, building once more, throbbing through my veins. I felt myself on the verge of climax when he withdrew once more. I gasped, panting, stared at him in confusion as me moved to the table. Again, he lifted the cup and drank. I watched him nervously, realizing suddenly what my punishment for not obeying was—he meant to withhold my climax until he was satisfied that I’d been punished long enough. He placed his freezing cold mouth over my nipple this time. I lost my breath, almost passed out. I hadn’t recovered from the shock when he moved to the other nipple and, despite my state, another jolt of shock went through me. He watched me for several moments while I fought for air. Finally, he reached for the clips. He attached them once more to my rock hard nipples, then carefully drew the third clip down and attached it to my clit. He switched it on. A throb went through me, bringing my clit, and my nipples, to life, sending a wave of pleasure through me. Lifting the cup, he moved down to my feet again, sat on the stool. I tensed when he moved out of view, between my legs. To my surprise and relief, he didn’t put his cold mouth on me. Instead, after a moment, I felt him insert his finger into my vagina. He moved it around experimentally and touched a spot inside of me that sent shock waves of pleasure quaking through me. I had no idea what it was, but I’d never felt anything like it. I moved my hips, hoping he’d stoke it again. He did. My belly clenched around his finger. It took all I could do to repress a groan of ecstasy. “Do you want my cock inside of you?” My mind was so clouded with pleasure it took a moment even to understand what he’d asked. Once I did, however, I knew I wanted what I had. I shook my head. He removed the clamp on my clit and replaced it with his mouth. The icy cold made my stomach clench painfully.

I hadn’t even recovered from that jolt when he replaced the clamp. He stood up, moved to the head of the table. I opened my eyes a fraction, wondering what he meant to do now. He lifted the front end of the table until I was almost sitting upright. I looked down at myself. I suppose I should have been embarrassed, or shocked. Instead, as I stared at my splayed legs, saw the clamp on my nipples and my clit, heat and moisture flooded through me. He moved to stand between my legs, holding his cock in his hand. It was hard. “Do you want this?” I closed my eyes, tried hard to concentrate on the jolts of pleasure rushing through my nipples and my clit, trying to reach climax before he could snatch it away. “Do you want my cock inside of you?” I shook my head. I was almost there. I was going to make it this time. I was teetering on the verge when he turned the button off. It took an effort to refrain from screaming at him. He removed the clamps, tossed them aside. “Good girl.” I opened my eyes to look at him. He stared back at me and slowly lowered his head. Expecting his mouth to be cold as it had been before, I tensed. It wasn’t. It was hot. He suckled my nipple, hard, almost painfully so. My belly clenched. My heart began to thunder against my chest as heated pleasure flooded my brain in a dizzying wave. I was panting for air by the time he released that nipple and moved to the other. He teased it, on and on, until I thought I would faint with the pleasure, but my clit throbbed, unfulfilled. He hesitated for a moment when he finally released my nipple, and finally sat on the stool. I opened my eyes, watched as he moved toward me, as his mouth closed over my clit. It took everything I could do to keep from crying out, so intense was the pleasure. I panted, closed my eyes, desperately seeking release. In spite of all I could do, a groan escaped me as I felt the first fluttering of release. He ceased teasing my clit instantly, leaving me hanging. I opened my eyes as he stood up, grasped his cock and aligned the head of it with my body’s opening. As he shoved it deeply inside of me, I climaxed so hard I screamed. He thrust harder, faster, and my climax just seemed to go on and on. I was nearly comatose by the time he came. I didn’t even remember when he moved away. I was rudely awakened some time later to a chilling splash of water. The splash, however, was not in my face. The doctor, I discovered, had vanished. The cop that had ‘arrested’ me was standing between my legs, his cap pulled low over his brow as it had been before so that I could see no more than the lower part of his face. He was fully dressed. I felt more than a little self-conscious about the fact that I was so shamelessly

exposed. To my surprise, however, I felt my body responding to his nearness. He studied me unsmilingly for several moments and then removed his belt. Setting his weapon belt aside carefully, he faced me once more and removed the belt to his pants. I watched, feeling suddenly breathless as he tugged his shirt from his pants and began to unbutton it. When he’d released the top button, he shrugged the shirt off of a pair of very broad shoulders. Setting his cap aside, he grasped the bottom edge of his T-shirt and pulled that off, as well. I was surprised to see that he was well above the ordinary insofar as looks--not even close to the ‘pretty boy’, but purely, harshly male. His chest and arms were hard and muscular. I found I was having some difficulty breathing. The temptation seized me to ‘misbehave’ so that he would tease me as ‘the doctor’ had. I curbed it. I was fairly certain I could cum without any trouble at all. I was hot only from watching him undress. I waited breathlessly as he unfastened his breeches and slid the zipper to the bottom. I could see his erection standing against his trousers. It looked huge. It looked like it would fill me to capacity, stretch me to my limits. He nudged his shoes off, one at the time, standing on first one foot and then the other. Then, grasping the waist band of both pants and shorts, he removed them. His cock stood out from his body when he straightened. I swallowed, feeling a sudden need to have it in my mouth. A vision assailed me, of the two of us lying on the floor, of me sucking his cock while he sucked my clit and brought me to climax. The image sent hot moisture flooding through my sex. I licked my lips. “Would you like to taste my cock?” I looked up at his face, nodded. He studied me a moment, then moved closer. Taking hold of his cock, he rubbed it against my clit teasingly. I sucked in my breath as he touched my clit, more than a little surprised to discover it throbbed instantly to life, aching for fulfillment. He sat on the stool, pushed his finger deeply inside of me and leaned forward, teasing my clit with his tongue. Pleasure shot through me. He curled his finger, rubbing that special spot inside of me that I hadn’t even known was there before this night. My body clenched around his finger, quakes of pleasure starting to build rapidly toward climax. Continuing to stroke that one spot, he clamped his mouth over my clit, sucking. I gasped, bucked mindlessly against his finger and mouth. He sucked harder, worked magic with his finger, teased my clit with his tongue. I came before I even realized I was on the verge. He stood up. Awash in the aftermath of my climax, I was only dimly ware of his movements. He lowered

the head of the table so that I was lying flat once more. Climbing over me, he guided his cock toward my mouth, nudged it. I opened my mouth to receive him. It was what I’d wanted the moment I saw it, and yet not. I’d just climaxed. My body was already cooling. I’d given him no pleasure, however, and knew it was warranted. I worked my tongue and jaw over his cock, sucking it as if it was a tasty pop. In fact it was. I discovered I loved the taste of him, loved the way he filled my mouth. He lowered his head, began to tease my clit once more. I tried to avoid his tongue. My clit was too sensitive. I didn’t think I could bear any more stimulation. My legs were bound, however, as were my arms. I couldn’t move, couldn’t evade his questing mouth and teasing tongue. I could only endure. I sucked him as he pumped his cock in and out of my mouth. I tried to ignore the torturous teasing of his tongue as he persisted in suckling, nudging, flicking my clit until my body began, almost reluctantly, to rise toward release yet again. As I brought him to release, my body convulsed in yet another that was so intense I almost fainted. I could not prevent the little cries of pleasure that escaped around his cock. Dimly, I was aware that I’d ‘disobeyed’. I wasn’t at all certain I could live through another ‘punishment’ like the doctor had devised. I held my breath as he slowly climbed off of me. He stood watching me for several moments, waiting for his own body to recover. After a few moments, he moved away. When he returned, he was holding the clamps. I stared at them, knowing every ounce of pleasure that could be wrung from me already had been. He attached them, first to my nipples and then to my clit. I barely noticed the shocks at first. My clit was still throbbing from my last release. He adjusted the little knob I hadn’t noticed before. The jolts came harder and closer together. Dazed, I felt pleasure begin to build inside of me again as he lifted the front of the table once more and then moved around to stand between my spread thighs. I could barely lift my eyelids to stare at him, so intense was the pleasure throbbing through me. As I watched, he began to massage his cock. It came erect. He moved closer, nudged my opening with the head. He did not remove the clips. They continued to pulse, to send shock after shock of pleasure through me. Grasping my hips, he slammed his cock deep inside of me. On the third thrust, my body began to climax … and continued to climax as he pumped inside me over and over, thrusting harder and harder until my body was jolted with each impact. At some point, I reached overload and passed out. When I awoke, I was in the back seat of the patrol car once more. The handcuffs had been removed and my clothes straightened. My clit still throbbed. I reached down to comfort it and discovered I couldn’t bear to touch it. The car stopped and the back door was opened. “You’re free to go, ma’am. From now on, be sure you come to a full stop at every stop sign.”

I stared at him blankly, but managed to struggle out of the back seat. I don’t think my legs would’ve held me upright if he hadn’t gripped my arm and led me back to my car. He helped me into the front seat and closed the door. “Have a nice night.” I was never afterwards certain of how I managed to make it back to my hotel room. Like a drunk, dazed on alcohol, I was barely aware of my surroundings. Fortunately, it was late and the streets deserted. The patrol car, which I discovered had followed me back to my hotel, kept going as I turned in. I struggled from the car and into my room. I was asleep almost before my body touched down on the mattress. The ‘wake up’ call I’d left for the following morning, dragged me from the deepest sleep I’d ever had in my life. Blindly, I felt around and finally managed to lift the receiver. “It’s your ten o’clock wake up!” I slammed the receiver down. I’d felt absurd leaving the message at the desk. I knew very well I’d be up long before that time, but had thought it would be better to be safe than sorry and ordered it more as a reminder—just in case my watch stopped. My legs almost gave out on me as I leapt from the bed. I fell back, disoriented, wondering for several moments why I felt as if I’d been drugged, or beaten up, or both. Every muscle in my body screamed from unaccustomed usage. It flooded back, then, all of it. I lay still for several moments, in a dreamy kind of haze. Here I was, looking hard at my twenty seventh birthday—nearly thirty years old and right up until the night before I’d had no clue that I could enjoy sex. I realized I had never before experienced a ‘real’ climax, not when compared with what I’d had the night before. Despite my soreness, I was smiling as I struggled from the bed and went to prepare for my appointment. I was still smiling when I greeted my prospective buyers, grinning like the world belonged to me as I showed them around and pointed out all the features. I smiled as they expressed their doubts, pointed out more unique features of the property and explained that the price was non-negotiable. They bought it. We signed the papers on the spot and I returned home, still flying high, flying higher with my very first sale. My room mate took one look at my face and grinned. “You landed the sale.” I nodded. “Didn’t even have to lower the price!” “I knew you could do it!” I grinned. “I’m not so sure I’d have been able to if not for your friends.” She pretended she had no idea of what I was referring to. “The card,” I prodded. “I had no idea what you meant when you said I might have to pay a ‘fine’.”

She sat down, eyed me warily for several moments. “I phoned the chief, told him to keep an eye out for my car--I thought you might be mad.” I thought about it a moment and finally shrugged. “If you’d suggested it before hand, I might have been. Now.... ” I shrugged. “I’d never have experienced it if I’d had a choice. I’m glad I didn’t.” She gave me a curious look. “I gave you the safety word. The chief said you never uttered it.” I blinked at her, confused. “Safe word?” “Stop. Remember? I told you if you were uncomfortable with anything all you had to do was say stop.” I stared at her for several moments while that sank in and started laughing. “That’s what you meant?” She watched me for several moments, as if she suspected hysteria and finally chuckled. “I’ll admit I was a little stunned when they told me you went on for hours, never uttering a peep. I’d no idea….” I shook my head. “It never even occurred to me to ask them to stop. Even if I’d known that was my safety word, I probably wouldn’t have said it. I was having way too much fun.” She studied her hands a moment. “It’s an exclusive group. Members agree never to have sex with anyone outside the group. We have checkups regularly to make sure everyone is free of disease—that way we can enjoy ourselves without fear. Anyone caught breaking the rule is excluded thereafter. I vouched for you. It’s the only way you were allowed to participate.” I felt my heart plummet. “Does that mean I can’t be a member?” “Do you want to?” I was taken aback. Did I? I’d never experienced anything like it before. It had been wonderful, but did I really want to do it again? I frowned. “It made me feel … powerful. I know that sounds strange, after … well I suppose that was what people call being a submissive?” My friend smiled. “You weren’t playing submissive. You are. The strange thing about it is that people who have to be aggressive in their work find they need some down time, need to be submissive to renew them. Maybe once was enough. Maybe you don’t really need it.” I thought about it for several moments. “I think I do,” I said finally. My friend grinned. “In that case, just let me know the next time you’re in need of some serious … uh … Rehabilitation.”

The End