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Prisoner - male dom-female sub

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It was mid-morning. Seattle wasn’t usually warm at his time of the year but today’s skies said it would be different. While I walked through the underground lot, I could hear the sounds of engines starting and the occasional "Whoop" of a siren being tested. Although my district was downtown, there was a little business I had to attend to in the north end this morning, and the manila envelope under my arm carried the evidence I needed.

Briefing had been short, but the warrant list wasn’t. Seems a couple of crews in south end had gotten it on last night and the list of warrants had grown exponentially when they started in with the interviews. Seems homey doesn’t care much for the integrity of his crew when the cuffs go on. Brother sellin’ out brother to avoid another arrest.


I got to my cruiser, and noticed a large, but shallow dent in the rear side panel. Fuckola. The only other cars left in the pool were the beat to shit units in the bone yard. The cars that cry out "DO NOT DRIVE ME!" when you stab 'em with a key. I opened the door, tossed my bag and the envelope on the passenger side and made a note to myself about the dent. After checking out the shotgun and lights, I rolled out of the garage and onto the street. Ed Bectoldt waved at me as he made his way into the garage, looking tired at the end of his shift. I smiled as I recalled the party last summer when we, drunker than skunks, crowned him "DB-5", in honor of him discovering his fifth dead body during his shift in just one year.

I made my way down the street toward the freeway on ramp and called in.


There was a pause.


"Three-Frank-Twelve, in service. Heading to 11655 Northwest 23rd to serve"

There was another pause.


"Well you have a nice fuckin' day too, you curt motherfucker" I said under my breath as I hung the mike on the dashboard. As I pulled up to the stoplight, my eyes wandered over to the envelope on the passenger’s seat. Without really thinking I picked it up and looked at the word "CONFIDENTIAL" stamped in red letters across the front. Opening it, I found papers from vice giving addresses, times, descriptions. A request to question from the Vice Sargent and photographs. Quite a few big glossy photographs, obviously shot through an NVD. They showed a ‘78 or ‘79 Corvette pulled over to the side of the road under a streetlight with a woman walking up behind it. As I leafed through the photos, I could see her progressively moving closer and finally leaning in to talk to the driver. Leaning way over. Extremely long legs framed by an impossibly short skirt.

A driver tooted his horn tentatively at the cop in front of him who was obviously too distracted to notice that the light had been green for quite some time now. I dropped the photos and waved a friendly gesture, urging the car across the intersection and onto the freeway.

As I sped down the freeway ramp, I hit the overheads just for grins. Some people say guys want to be cops to brutalize people, or have power over them.

Naw. We just like to drive fast.

I got into the HOV lane and kicked the car up to 90. It wasn’t really that fast, but I wanted to get this taken care of. I thumbed through the pictures again, not really taking my eyes off the road but looking at the last two. Those beautiful long legs getting in the car. And the last, a high enlargement of the woman looking out the passenger window. Big dark eyes, long wild hair, full lips.

Just like I like em.

I slid the photos and docs back in the envelope, just as I got to my exit ramp. I shut off the overheads and turned on the flashers as I pulled into the nice suburban neighborhood. I could see a lot of small houses, well-tended lawns and the obligatory corner 7-11. It seemed unlikely to question someone regarding solicitation in this kind of neighborhood, but after my years on duty, I realized that what you see on the outside isn’t always what is the same as what you find inside.

I slowed down in front of the house and called in:

"Three-Frank-Twelve, 97"

The response came right back this time:

"Frank-Twelve, 97, Zero-Eight-Twenty"

Seems the attitude had started to improve in dispatch.

I pulled into the driveway and turned off the lights, and killed the engine. I peered out the windshield to verify the address numbers again before getting out of the car. Before closing the door I pulled the long PR-24 baton out of its holder and slid it into the ring on the left side of my duty belt. Picking up the envelope, I closed the door and walked up to the front of the house. When I pushed the doorbell button I could hear the chime quietly ring toward the back of the house. There was no sound for a few moments, and just as I was getting ready to press the button again, the door opened revealing a lovely, tall brunette woman.

Although her makeup was light and her hair was up, there was no question; it was the very same babe.

"Ms. Alyssa Sanders?" I asked.

"Yes?" Her voice was soft and she looked quizzically at me.

"Ms. Sanders, I’m Officer Nichols from the Seattle Police Department, and Id like to ask you a few questions."

"About what?"

I noticed a neighbor walking toward their mailbox nearby, and looked at her again. "It would be better if we talk inside" I said.

"Of course" she responded and stood back to let me in.

I walked in to the entryway and stood to face her. "What’s this about?" she asked again as she closed the door.

I looked at her carefully for a moment before I started. "Ms. Sanders, I know that you will probably think I am out of line by this, but you are wanted at our precinct for questioning regarding your activities of solicitation".

There was a long pause, in which she blushed quite visibly. "What?"

"I know up here in your nice suburban home you would think we wouldn’t suspect you of these illegal activities, but in this job, I have learned that anything can happen anywhere."

She looked at me with shock on her face.

"B-but you can’t be serious! I mean look at me. Do I look like a hooker?" It’s true. The short summer dress she had on complete with small apron on made her look like a candidate for a Betty Crocker commercial, but the guilt poured off of her.

"Looks aren’t the point, ma’am." I pulled out the envelope, and removed the photographs. "We have pretty good evidence".

Her embarrassment was shown in her silence as she slowly looked through the photographs. She put them on the hall table and looked down.

"Fuck." She looked away.

There was a short silence before I went on.

"I need you to come downtown with me right now so that the vice officers can talk to you."

"Am I under arrest? She asked plaintively. She was beginning to show the jittery behavior common with people who desperately want to run.

"No, not at this time, but you are being taken into police custody for a simple line of questioning. I paused. "Because this isn’t an arrest, you will not need an attorney, but if you want to have one present, you can call one now."

"What if I don’t want to go?" She smiled at me, but she was still on edge. "What If I tell you to leave, and tough shit about your questions"

"Ma'am, you don’t need to make this more complicated than it already is." Knowing the value of intimidation, I glared at her. "And as you’re starting to look like you want to make this difficult, I am going to have to handcuff you."

"NO! She cried. "I mean, my neighbors will see me. FUCK! I can’t believe this is happening!" "Look" she went on, "I mean, can’t we do this another way?" She was really looking nervous now.

I looked her directly in the eyes. "What do you mean?"

She gulped and took a deep breath. "Can’t we just walk out the door, you know, like two normal people. I promise I'll be good." She paused and looked at me again. "I promise."

"I’m sorry," I said. "I’ve had too many people run and it’s more department procedure than my rule anyway."

"No! .. Please?" She almost whispered. "Look, are you sure there’s no other way we can do this?"

She moved slowly forward till she was inches away from my face. The scent that reached me was clean and fresh and vaguely sexual. "Are you sure?" she said again softly, untying her apron and letting it drop to the floor. "I know I’ve been a bad girl, but I can be your bad girl." Her fingers reached out and stroked lightly over the tip of my baton. " I'll do anything for you. Anything you want."

"You see, that’s the problem we got." I said. "You are already trying to escape"

I moved back a foot and pointed to the wall. "Assume the position". I said firmly. "Now!"

She mumbled some obscenities under her breath and walked over to the place I had pointed to. She looked back at me with pleading eyes and slowly moved her hands up the wall.

As I moved in behind her and placed my hand in the center of her back. I immediately felt her heat through the thin fabric. I nudged the inside of her feet with my toe. "Feet apart"

She spread out her legs and leaned into the wall. Starting to frisk her, I ran my hands around her waist and up her sides. Moving my hands around the front she caught her breath when I moved them up under her breasts. Braless. Perfect. Her breasts were no more than a very large handful, but were wide and heavy. I noticed her nipples, hard under my touch as I moved across them. I ran my finders up to her hair to search for small weapons, and the chopstick holding her hair up fell out, sending her hair cascading down over her shoulders and onto her back.

I continued down her body, sliding my hands down the outside of her smooth legs, and continued slowly up the inside. When my hand passed her knees, I could feel them shaking. As my hands reached the inside of her right thigh, a soft sound escaped her. I continued, ever slowing, till I reached the crotch of her panties. She was soaked. As I ran my fingers across her pussy, she moaned softly and whispered one word.


I stood up and leaned into her whispering over her shoulder "Are you trying to bribe a peace officer?"

She just stood there breathing heavily. I moved my right hand down to my side, brushing over the butt of the 9mm Glock in its holster and back to my handcuff case. Snapping it open, I pulled out the black steel cuffs and clicked one on her right wrist. Moving her arms behind her I locked the other cuff on.

She was silent and stood before me with her head down. "Ms. Sanders" I said. She looked up at me. "What did you mean when you said ''anything?" She stood motionless for a moment and then slowly sank to her knees in front of me, her eyes never leaving mine.

Again, she whispered "Please?"

Looking down at her, I thought for a moment about my life, my career. I supposed it all didn’t really matter much then.

I unzipped my pants. Taking my cock out I put it in front of her open mouth and gently pushed it in. Her eyes closed and she began sucking me, softly at first, but then hungrily as I ran my fingers through her hair. Her mouth was pure heaven and her tongue washed rapidly across the underside of my hard cock. I closed my eyes and between her breathing and moans, and I could hear the hall clock ticking behind me.

I don’t know why it happened so fast but I was coming in her mouth suddenly. She went deep and swallowed, sucking the long stream of jism out of my balls. I heard myself bellowing somewhere in the distance.

I collapsed in front of her. Looking up at her, her hair was wild, like in the photograph, and her mouth was open and wet. She was breathing heavily and a small grin played at the corner of her mouth.

"OK?" She asked.

I got up and looked at her for a moment as she knelt at my feet.

"No" I said. "You are still my prisoner"

She got up on her feet and moved close to me. "OK" she said again. Then she turned and walked a few steps to the back of the couch, bending over it. Her dress rode up high, fully exposing her smooth, athletic thighs.

I walked up behind her and moved my hands under her short dress sliding her panties down. Kneeling down before her hips, I touched her lips with my tongue. She opened up in response letting me access her cunt completely. I stayed only a moment to smell her fresh smell and to nibble her clit lightly. When she started to moan again, I laid my tongue wide and flat across her shaven lips and made one slow trip up all the way across her anus.

She was shaking again and speaking soft obscenities which each flick of my tongue.

I looked to my left and saw our reflection in the large picture window facing the street. I saw the dent in the fender of the police car. I looked down at her in front of me as she opened her legs wider exposing her wet, swollen pussy lips, her hands crossed and splayed out behind her.

"Fuck it" I said, as I slid my cock into her.

She was slippery and tight inside, and her hips pressed back into me with each thrust. We were already moving fast, her ass rippling every time I slammed into her, her moans turning into sharp cries. Taking the cuffs in my left hand, I pulled her back harder. I took my right hand and wrapped around her hip, pinning her in place. I was fucking her for all I was worth, my prisoner, this streetwalker. Her back was arched as the first orgasm hit her, and she began screaming a litany of OH FUCK OH FUCK OH GOD OH FUCK with every wave. I felt the come boiling up in me again but held off for a moment more, savoring this choice cunt. I moved my right thumb around her open pussy lips and getting it wet; I pushed it into her ass. The pitch of her voice peaked as our tempo increased.

As I started to come, she responded with her own, her screams now unintelligible, guttural and deep. I drove in deep; it was the only instinct I had left as shot inside her. Her hips were bucking hard under me as I came and came and came.

We separated slowly, and I staggered back the few steps to the wall behind me. I slid down breathing hard and just stared at her beautiful, well-fucked pussy. She remained in the same position for a few minutes and then stood slowly upright. She stumbled drunkenly over and looked down at me.

"You gonna unlock me?" she said softly.

Looking straight ahead of me I saw her legs, a thick, wet trail appearing high on her thigh, moving slowly, steadily downward.

"You gonna unlock me?" she asked again.

I looked up at her smiling face and held up the key. She turned and I unlocked one of the cuffs. Walking away from me she stripped off her dress. She stopped, walked back to me and stood, gloriously nude, a soft sheen of sweat, glistening on her body. "Can I at least have a kiss?" She asked quietly.

I stood, held her and kissed her over and over again.

"I love you baby" I said.

"I love you too" she answered back as she walked naked toward the kitchen. "I want to make lunch for you. You forgot it again this morning".

As I got in the cruiser to head back to work, I paused to look at her in the front window smiling and waving at me. The pictures were good. The forged letters from vice were even better. It almost made me afraid knowing what her wild imagination held, and how capable she was of making her fantasies happen. She loved these games. And I loved her.

My beautiful wife. Our games. It wasn’t the first, and I was positive it wouldn’t be the last.

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