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Subject: {ASSM} A Woman In Uniform (femdom, FM, sub)
Date: Thu, 19 Oct 2000 17:10:35 -0400
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The street is dark and I am alone. Handcuffs hurt my wrists. Three hours
ago, I was drunk and enjoying my last night of freedom. Now I am sober.
The joke of being tied to a lamp post is wearing pretty thin.
I hear footsteps approaching, but cannot see who it is.
Might be the lads. They have had their fun, but now they are returning to
untie me.
Could even be Sandra, my fianc e. The hen night has to finish sometime. The
lamppost I am fastened to is on her way home.
But I hope it isn't Jen. Sandra's mother. There are already enough reasons
for her to dislike me. I don't need any more black marks in her book.
But it isn't any of those people.
I catch a glimpse of a black uniform. See a radio fastened to a jacket. It
is the police.
I close my eyes and hope they don't see me.
"What have we here then?" a voice asks from behind me. Sounds like a female
officer. I can't see her though.
I want to explain about the stag night. The fifteen different pubs. The
traffic cone. The condom flicking fights.
I know if I try to explain it will come out wrong. I will be in even deeper
trouble.
"Are you going to explain yourself then?" the officer must see I am naked.
But I feel more comfortable being arrested on a public indecency charge by a
woman than by a man.
"Didn't you hear me sir. I asked what you are doing, tied to this lamppost."
I decide to come clean.
"Officer. I can explain everything."
"Can you?"
I grimace to myself. How am I going to get out of this?
When the officer moves from behind me, I see she is pretty. I also see her
uniform.
Thick, black cloth. Serious looking. Commanding respect. Oozing with
authority.
The officer stands before me. Hands behind back. Chest thrust out.
Shiny buttons on her jacket lock the woman inside, away. All I see is a law
enforcer.
The officer looks me up and down from beneath the peak of her hat.
I am almost as scared of the fact that she hasn't spoken to my face yet,
than I am of the prospect of spending a night in a cell.
Sandra will kill me if I am not at St. Cuthberts at ten o'clock tomorrow.
"Officer. I am getting married tomorrow. This is my stag night. That's why
I'm tied to this lamppost. If you can just find a way to get me free, then I
can go home and..."
"Go home. I'm afraid you're not going home. We'll have to do this by the
book."
The officer brings a hand around to her side. Holding a truncheon.
I wince.
"Yes. I am afraid you'll have to miss you're wedding. I think an appointment
with the magistrate is more probable than an appointment with the vicar."
The truncheon is being tapped against her thigh. A taste of what I'll be
getting if I don't cooperate.
This is not looking good.
"Let me see now. A fire crew with some bolt cutters to get the hand cuffs
off. An ambulance crew in case the firecrew slip with bolt cutters. That
should be enough. Don't you think?"
The thought of all those people arriving makes me even more nervous. I can't
take my eyes off the truncheon.
The officer sees that I am staring at her. Follows my gaze to the truncheon
she wields against her thigh.
"I do hope that you are looking at my truncheon sir. And not my skirt."
The end of the truncheon is lifted to just below my nose. This is getting a
bit too aggressive.
"What's the matter? Like a girl in uniform do you?"
I do and say nothing. Fearing reprisal.
The truncheon lowers to my cock.
"Gets you going does it? The thought of a woman in uniform. You little
maggot. You make me sick."
I feel the truncheon touch my cock. I am worried.
"You're just a worm aren't you. A dirty little worm."
The truncheon takes the weight of my cock. I am more worried.
"Well come on then worm. What do you think I am wearing under this uniform?
That's what you are thinking about isn't it. Tell me. Or little wifey will
have to put it in a splint to use it."
My cock falls away from the truncheon and bounces back in front of my balls.
I try to answer.
"Hmm. Tights?" I say trying to be as vague as possible.
"Tights. Do these look like tights to you?"
The policewoman lifts her skirt to just below the gusset of her knickers.
Stockings. A suspender belt which divides and frames the pale flesh of her
thighs. A garter.
No tights.
I got the answer wrong.
Go straight to jail. Do not pass GO. Do not collect  200.
Searching the officer's expression, I see nothing, which tells me I am about
to have my cock beaten off with a truncheon. That isn't to say it won't
happen.
"Look worm. That's right. Look. A real woman under the uniform. Would you
believe it? Legs. And do you know what? Between them, there is a real pussy.
Oh yes. Shaven too. And I like to get it fucked once in a while. Not by the
likes of you of course. I like real men. Not worms."
The police officer spits the words at me. Pulls the gusset to one side.
Slides the truncheon through. Against her split.
I see every detail. The truncheon slipping back and forth. Even the juices
that make the leather wet and shiny.
I can't believe my eyes.
"Are you getting a good enough look?"
The truncheon slides out. Looking sticky. Is raised into the air. Comes down
fast. Whistling through the air. It contacts with my left knee. I go down.
The handcuffs clink against the lamppost and stop me from slumping into the
road.
I look up at the police officer in disbelief. I must look like a frightened
animal.
"Hmm. Just where all men should be. At a woman's feet."
The police officer steps back slightly. As if to kick me. I turn my head and
flinch. The heel of the officers' shoe comes to rest on my shoulder.
No kick. No pain. Just relief.
I look up.
My eye follows the line of the officers' leg. From the calf, to the knee, to
the thigh, to the stocking top, over the creamy flesh, and into the dark
cave hooded by the officers bunched up skirt.
I strain my eyes for a better look.
A plump mound. Hairless. Dark, shiny lips hang underneath.
The dreaded truncheon comes back into view. And is buried between the lips.
Goes in easily.
Oh. My. God.
The effect on me is instant. My cock rears between my crouched legs. The tip
emerges from its foreskin. Angry at being woken.
But I can see nothing but that truncheon.
Shiny leather slips in and out. The thickness spreads dark lips. I can
almost smell the juices, which cling.
And then I do. The truncheon is thrust against my cheek. Dragged over to my
lips.
"Open your mouth. Worm." The officer barks at me.
The truncheon is forced between my lips. I taste the saltiness. Feel the
warmth.
My cock cranes away from my thigh. It has never felt so hard. Or big.
"Is that for me. Worm."
The police officer has seen my excitement. I don't want to think about the
consequences of her disapproval. Now that I have seen where the officer
likes to stick the truncheon, I am less intimidated. But I still don't want
to risk its deployment. My leg still aches.
The police officer takes the shoe off my shoulder. Her foot lands beside me.
The other foot is brought over my leg and comes to rest on the other side.
The material of the police officers' knickers is an inch from my face.
Smells so good. Wide hips obscure my view of everything else. All I can see
is lace, satin and flesh.
The officer is teasing me. Wants to see me lunge for the bait. I know
better.
I wait.
"Good boy. The others always try to push their faces in. You are the only
one who has resisted. I am impressed. Maybe you aren't such a worm after
all. You deserve a prize."
Adjusting the position of her feet, the police officer crouches. The smooth
nylon of the stockings glides across my thighs with the descent. Meets the
searching tip of my erection with her cunt.
I want to thrust with my hips. But I don't. I know the rules. Once again, I
wait for permission.
Commending me on my patience, the officer sinks slowly onto my eager shaft.
Slowly downwards. Stopping only when our tangled limbs prevent any further
penetration.
My thickness spreads the officer open. Every muscle in my body tells me to
thrust. Hard. But it is not my prerogative. I must wait.
The cold buttons of the officers' jacket are against my face. Pushing me
against the hard lamppost.
The buttons are unfastened. From the top. One by one. Gradually exposing the
cleavage beneath. The jacket falls open. Heavy tits fill the officers' bra.
Smooth flesh. Bursting from the sweeping cups.
Seed wells in my cock. Pressure is building. I need to release it. Shoot it
free, in thick strings.
I look into the officers' eyes. My eyes plead for mercy. For release from
the torment.
The officer begins. Slowly rises. Away from my invasion. Up. Until the warm
night air surrounds my tip. And then down. Quickly. Savagely.
Again. And again.
Faster.
Deeper.
Harder.
The pace builds.
The force is wild.
Tits threaten to bounce free from their cups. A nipple pokes through thin
lace. Brushes my lip. The bra cups struggle to restrain their content.
Molten semen burns at the base of my cock. Smouldering. Ready to erupt any
moment.
I warn the officer with a series of desperate gasps. Her mouth opens. Bites
the air. Inhales deeply.
The officer stops. Perfectly rigid. Silent lips contract to a pout. Riding
the wave of pleasure.
I cannot hold back.
My cock pumps semen out of my balls. And into the officers cunt. Filling and
expanding her further.
Sweet release rips through my tortured manhood.
Once again, the street is dark and I am alone. Handcuffs still hurt my
wrists.
Fifteen minutes ago, I thought a policewoman was about to arrest me.
Instead, she exploited my vulnerability, used me for sex and left
Now I am wondering what a strange thing this was for a police officer to
have done.
And then I realise.
There was one thing missing from the stag night. I had everything else. The
fifteen different pubs. The traffic cone. The condom flicking fights.
But not a stripper. Of course! It's traditional. Almost obligatory.
I hear footsteps approaching.
It is the lads. They have had their fun, but now they are returning to untie
me.
"Are you still here?" Carl says, surprised. "I gave the stripper the keys to
the handcuffs. Told her to unlock you when she was finished."
"She's been. And gone. It was great. Thanks lads." I look around at the
lads, smiling to show my appreciation. They all look too drunk to care.
"She was brilliant, Carl. You should have seen her. Uniform. Truncheon. The
whole lot. Just like real policewoman. I owe you one."
Carl looks confused.
"What do you mean. A policewoman? I ordered a rolygram. Big fat woman with
flabby tits. I asked them especially 'cause I wanted her to sit on your face
and bounce up and down."
A shrill voice emerges from the end of the street.
She looks plump and wears a brown rain Mac as she shuffles towards us.
"Oh. Thank goodness for that. I thought I was going to be looking for you
all night. I've got the key to your handcuffs but I'll only give it to you
when I am finished."
"Don't bother. Carl, Get me home. I've got a wedding to go to in the
morning."

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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