3 comments/ 46513 views/ 11 favorites A Two Cop Fuck By: danishmichaela It wasn't the fact that I was standing in the tiny kitchen in his small flat in Blackheath, South London. It wasn't the fact that I was only wearing a black suspender belt and fishnet stockings. It wasn't the fact that James was buried into me as deeply as he could be. It wasn't either the fact that he was fucking me from behind, that his balls were slapping against my arse and my full tits were flying around all over the place. No, it was none of those facts that made this so different, so unusual and so exciting. Our affair, which had started with him 'pulling' me at the gym I had joined in Greenwich where he was also a member, had progressed rapidly. We met regularly, but not that frequently for his job as a police officer was almost as time demanding as mine was as European Head of Mergers and Acquisitions for a US owned, global investment bank. I travelled around Europe a lot helping companies acquire each other and he chased criminals around the UK; not much difference really! We managed to meet probably twice every three weeks or so I guess. On reflection, since he had moved from the very suburban, social graveyard of Dartford in Kent, which was thirty miles from my Dockland's apartment, to the pleasantly, upscale inner-city village of Blackheath, which was just across, or just under using the Blackwall Tunnel, the Thames, it had probably become weekly or more. James had been seconded from the Manchester Police to the Met. It was a two-year assignmement so at first he had brought his wife and two kids with him and had set up home in Kent. It didn't work, though, and shortly after we started, his wife and kids went back up north and he was provided with the small flat in the convenient for us Blackheath. After a few weeks a pattern had developed. We would meet at a bar or restaurant, have a few drinks and a meal and then go to his small flat and fuck. Sometimes I would stay all night, but at other times, when either of us had an early start, I would leave around ten. At other times we would go to a hotel, but never to my apartment, which was supplied by the bank. I'm an expat from Denmark, where I was brought up and where my attitude and outlook on sex was conditioned by the free-thinking, open and very non-judgemental approach to sex that prevails in my country. When offered the big promotion to my current job, my husband refused to move to London so we separated. We didn't divorce and when I went 'home,' roughly each month, we still did what most married couples do, fuck a lot for a while and then row. In London, I had to be discrete. The bank was fanatical about bad public relations and my boss would have gone apeshit if he had known I was shagging a cop. He would have assumed that I was being investigated and that the cop would find something on me. As part of my expat package, the bank provided free of charge an apartment as well as a Porsche and loads of other goodies. I didn't dare take James to the apartment near Canary Wharf for I too had become fanatical about being discrete. I gave James the impression that I still lived with Erik, my husband, who is a writer and, therefore is in the apartment most of the time. I also didn't let him know the bank I worked for telling him it was some obscure Swedish financial institution. This way, he really knew little about me and, of and when I wanted, I could simply vanish, always a useful technique with an affair! With his wife back in Manchester our fling became more adventurous. When I was travelling and was able to talk to James on the phone we usually had some form of phone sex. That inevitably led to us camming each other using our iPads. We found a mutual liking of having sex in places where there was a chance of being caught. Given our positions that really was crazy, but it was such a turn on to be fucked on the back seat of his car, in a shop doorway or out of doors in a field or up against a tree in a wood. He got me to leave off my underwear and he would 'finger' me as we ate or drove. But this time it wasn't the fact that we were in a risky place. Nor was it the fact that we were doing it, unusually for us, in the afternoon. It wasn't also the fact that when I lifted my skirt up I wasn't wearing panties and that I hadn't been during the lunch we'd had in Costa Coffee across from the station in the village. No, it was none of those facts that was giving me the unusual and never before experienced combination of extreme thrills and enormous trepidation I was feeling in that small kitchen. Something else had crept into our relationship. Well not relationship, we didn't really have one of those, simply our sex. That was aggression. So, it was none of those facts that were giving me these amazing sensations. It was the facts that: he was squeezing my breasts far harder than they should be squeezed, pinching and pulling my nipples far harder than they should be pinched and pulled and that he had grabbed my hair and was yanking it far more aggressively than it should be yanked. Yes, it was the power of force, the fact that I was being dominated and was submitting my will, mind and body to him that was turning me on so much. * That was the start, well pretty much, but thinking back, there had been a couple or three occasions when he had pinched me rather hard, dug his nails into the soft flesh of my buttocks, thighs or tits and sucked overly fiercely on my nipples. Prior to this affair, there had been moments with other lovers where I had experienced similar feelings. Erik had tied me up a couple of times. He had got me to wear an incredibly tight corset with both of us getting excitement from him lacing me up and taking my waist in from its usual twenty seven inches or so to around twenty three. I had indulged in some mild BDSM at a sex club I went to with him, a fairly common thing in Denmark and a couple we had swung with were both into spanking and thay had given me a red bottom. I hadn't realised fully until after Erik and I parted the prominence of the submissive streak in me. For some years I had felt the desire occasionally to be dominated. I wanted a man to control and direct me. These were not enormously strong feelings, but over probably a ten year period between my mid-thirties and mid-forties they surface more frequently and each time with more intensity. The need for being directed and controlled also included the desire to be abused and humiliated. I tried finding out why by researching on the web. It seems that it boils down to me having led a charmed life, wealthy parents, success at university and power and responsibility in my job. It turns out that this wish to submit and be humiliated is quite common among successful businesswoman! * As James had pinched my nipples, squeezed my breasts and bum and pulled hard on my hair, I hadn't complained, so presumably James thought I was giving him the green light. He must have, pretty reasonably, felt that I was into being roughed up a bit and was used to being hurt, abused, humiliated and generally dominated as part of a sexual relationship. I wasn't, but I had to admit that what he was doing was getting to me. "You're enjoying this aren't you?" He growled his nails digging in my breasts. I didn't reply, but instead writhed myself against his cock, which was deeply in me. "Aren't you?" He repeated louder, giving a strong yank on my hair. "Yes, sort of," I whimpered the pain on my boobs and scalp getting to me. "What the fuck's that mean, sort of?" "I er, I um, I don't know James," I mewed, loving what his cock was doing to me, but wondering why I didn't object to his nails digging into my boobs and his hand pulling my hair. He seemed to pull harder on my hair and dig deeper with his nails. The pain from both was searing. It hurt, it was agony and painful, but it mixed with the glorious sensations that his cock was creating deep inside me. I couldn't understand it. I didn't honestly know whether I was enjoying it or what I was feeling; all I did know was that I didn't want him to stop. The orgasm he gave me was awesome. It was right up there with anything I had ever had before. After the sex, we didn't talk about it. We didn't discuss what he had done to me and my reaction. We didn't review our feelings or analyse what we had both got from his much harder than usual squeezing, pinching and pulling. We didn't talk about it, but I thought about it, a lot. Usually, I am able to work out why I did something, why I reacted and acted in a certain way. I can generally work out what it was that caused me to gain enjoyment or other sensations from most experiences, especially of a sexual nature. I had been able to do that and had come to terms with my reaction to James wanting me to leave off my underwear, him fingering me in public and us fucking in dangerous places. I had, after a great deal of thought, understood and had coped with the evident needs we both had in those areas. This, though, was different. I had no idea why I had enjoyed James becoming more aggressive with me and I had no one, not surprisingly, with whom I could discuss it, not even him. Our relationship wasn't like that, but then I don't think many are. Until you have developed a long-lasting, very trusting, perhaps even loving relationship with someone, it's usually too difficult to discuss in detail your sexual wants and the reasons why you like certain aspects of sex. As the saying goes, 'some things are best left unsaid!' * We'd had sex before dinner. It was quick and energetic. He had pressed me face first against the floor to ceiling, sliding glass doors that led out to the balcony of the hotel room, overlooking the Thames in the distance. I knew I could not be seen, unless someone in the high- rise flats over the south side was using a telescope or binoculars. I doubted that, but didn't know for sure and the fact that there may have been was just yet another turn on for both of us. I was naked and the cold glass on my breasts made for a strange sensation, strange but nice. They were squashed against the glass, which almost flattened the D sized mounds. Looking down on them as he fucked me from behind, they looked huge and I realised another diet was required. Why is it in winter, when I play less tennis and golf and put on a little weight most of it goes to my tits, I always wonder? James was on the ten pm to six am shift. We had met at the hotel early evening and had a few drinks in the bar before going to the room and having some quick sex. We had a room service dinner with us both in deference to him having to go to work to keep us all safe, just drnking San Pellegrino. I hadn't showered after sex, for I had to fix the dinner, so I had slipped into a pair of combats and an old tee shirt. After dinner though, I needed a shower and went and had one as James watched some football on TV. I saw that it was nearly nine and realised he would have to leave soon. There didn't seem much point in getting dressed for I would go to bed directly he left, which would probably be nine forty five or so I guessed. I slipped into the thin, cotton, sleeping shorts and a singlet, a bit like a mans' vest, that I had taken to wearing lately, the vest outside the pants, not tucked in. In keeping with most of my fellow countrymen I am relaxed about nudity. At the gym I was one of the few women who showered and dried myself in the dressing room for most use cubicles to hide their bodies. That and wearing a brief bikini in the pool area had been fine until the past few weeks. Now though, I couldn't do that for the others at the gym would see the fierce red marks on my breasts and inner thighs that were the leftovers of my sex with James. "Take them off" he said as I came out of the bathroom. "What?" I asked feeling pleased that he wanted me naked and was likely to be going to fuck me again. "What do you fucking think?" He said sternly. "Those stupid clothes." I slid the shorts off and stood there for a moment or two just in the singlet. "That's better, you look more like the slag you really are like that with your fucking big nipples poking through the vest. Look at yourself in the mirror." I walked to the dressing table and stood there as he had told me. The singlet only came down to just beneath my waist so my landing strip of pubes with my glistening lips poking through them were on show. He was right about my nipples, they were making horrendously significant bumps in the thin material. I saw James' reflection in the mirror as he came up behind me. He reached round me and cupped both of my breasts and pinched my nipples, hard. The pain made me cry out, but that just seemed to encourage him to pinch even harder. "James no, please" I groaned feeling as if I might faint, but not sure whether that would be from shock or pleasure; I was beginning to see that there was a very narrow line between those two emotions. "Please what?" He asked his finger digging into the flesh of my breasts. "Stop, you are hurting me." "You deserve to be hurt." "What do you mean?" I groaned as he sort of twisted one of my boobs and grabbed my short, blonde, sticky up hair. He pulled my head round and that clashed with his face sending my glasses spinning. He then kissed me. It was the strangest of feelings. To have a man physically hurting and demeaning me as, at the same he was kissing me created an odd range of emotions in me. Almost, was I beginning to love or hate him? "Let go." "No," he said grabbing both my arms and turning me towards him. "I want to kiss you." I struggled and broke one arm away. "No James, you can't." "Why not?" "It's over, this is going crazy." He grabbed me again and pulled me against him. His cock was now rigid, fuck I thought, he wants sex again. "Let go." "No, I want you. It's not over." "You can't have me now." "I can, I can fucking-well have you when I want, you're my slut." He said pushing his cock hard against my soft, naked tummy. "You can't. That's it James." "What do you mean, that's it? I decide when this is over, when I want to get rid of my slut?" He growled, holding me tighter. I started to struggle. "No James, you don't, I do." "In your fucking dreams," he said crushing me against him and grabbing hold of my bum. "Let me go," I growled struggling and half breaking away, but not before he reached out and got hold of my boob. I squirmed and broke the contact with my tit, but he grabbed the vest. "Stop it James, this is crazy, you're acting like a lunatic." "It's not crazy and don't call me a lunatic." Bloody Kevin Kline again, I thought, nearly smiling "James you're being ridiculous," I said pulling away, but being restrained by his grip on the material of the vest. "Can't you see it's over?" "I told you I'll decide when it's over," he snarled grabbing my boob again. "Oh no you don't, I'm telling you we're finished. You're insane. You're acting like a lunatic."" "I'm sane enough to fuck you and make you cum so I am not a lunatic," he said pulling the vest. He stretched it very tightly across my boobs and the top of it was pulled down so that my nipples were almost showing. He saw that and pulled harder on the top so that the neckline slid further down and my tits popped out, completely. The sight of them in all their voluptuous glory with, I realised to my horror, horrendously swollen nipples, distracted him and I got away. "Now stop it," I said trying to walk away and shove my tits back into the clearly totally inadequate vest as I did. He just held me tighter and pulled the front of the vest down again. "Look at you, you slag, your nipples are hard, I bet your cunt is soaked as well. "Fuck off you pervert," I growled, alarmed that quite possibly I was wet. I squirmed free, now a little scared. I started to run; my plan was to go to the bathroom and lock it. But he grabbed me by the waist with one hand and the hair with the other. I struggled and got near to the bathroom door with him still holding me. I thought I would get away, but I was wrong, for I slipped and fell to the ground on my front. He tumbled with me pulling my hair quite hard and gripping my bum with his other hand. "Let me go," I moaned feeling trapped. "No," he said squeezing my bum. "James this is madness." "You keep saying that," he snarled yanking my hair. "It wasn't madness all the other times I fucked you was it?" "That was different." "No it wasn't." "It was, now let me go," I said wriggling to get away. "Shut up," he said pulling hard on my hair. "You struggle any more and I'll pull your fucking hair out by the roots." He gave it another strong yank to emphasise the point. That made me cry out in pain. "Stop it, right now." "Why, if I don't you gonna tell the police are you?" "Don't be daft, no of course not." "Right of course you can't," he said sliding his hand between my thighs. "You can't tell anyone can you, not them, your precious friends at the bank or anyone, can you? You can't tell them you've been fucking the filth can you?" He wiggled his hand so that he got his fingers onto my lips and pulled hard on my hair again. "Can you, you slut. My slut?" That realisation hit me strongly. It made me start to cry. "And that is why you are going to let me fuck you again isn't it?" He said trying to prise my legs apart. He got his knee inside mine and pushed one leg with that and pulled the other with his hand. I couldn't stop them opening, he was just too strong. "James, this is rape. Stop." "It isn't rape, you want it really," he said pushing me half on to my side. The neck of the vest was now caught under my boobs almost supporting them. He took hold of my nipple and pinched it hard. That made me yelp. "See look at your fucking nipples, they're like rocks. What's that all about?" "I don't know," I whimpered as he squeezed and pinched them. He still had his knee pushing my right leg open, but he was now almost lying on my back. His cock was pressed securely against the back of my left, upper thigh and the left cheek of my bum. I was helpless. I felt his hand between my legs, his fingers were fumbling at my lips. "You dirty fucking bitch," he snarled pulling my hair and shoving what must have been three fingers in me. "Don't," I moaned knowing full well what he was going to say next. But he surprised me by saying nothing. Instead, I felt his full weight on me, his chest on my back. His stomach on my buttocks, his legs against mine, his cock on my bum. I started to struggle again, for oddly I had forgotten to do that for a while. Why? I had no idea. "Get off, you sod," I mumbled, wriggling my bum and trying to close my legs as I lay there on the thick-pole carpet. Despite the desperation and the humiliation of my position, lying on my front, my legs wide open, I couldn't help, completely incongruously thinking, how smooth the carpet was. The pain was awful as he pulled my hair very hard and dug his fingernails into the soft flesh on the side of my left breast, which was squashed against the floor. Holding my left tit, sticking his fingernails into the flesh on the side and pulling my hair so that my neck was bent and my head was held up off the floor he wiggled himself downwards a little. Down so that he was lying completely between my legs, down so that his cock slid off my bum. Down so that it was also between my legs and down so that he was able to press its bulbous head right on my lips. He moved his hand from my breast and I thought I might have a chance of escaping, but his hold on my hair was too tight; any movement of mine was met by a yank from him, which did feel as if the hair might come out by the roots. A Two Cop Fuck I couldn't move, I couldn't escape I could do nothing but groan with frustration as unhindered he slid the head of his cock between my lips. "No, no James, stop," I said. "Shut up," he said. "You know you want it." He suddenly pressed his finger right against my anus. Not in it, not yet, but on it, right on where he knew I got most sensation. He wiggled it, he probed around the entrance, he opened it a bit, anally caressing me with surprising gentleness. I realised that he had wetted his finger with my female excretions. As he did that with the bulbous knob of his cock snug between my lips, I had the traumatic experience of feeling my hips moving; they were pumping slightly. My body was going out of control, it was out of sync with my mind, my need for sexual pleasure was overcoming my desire to control my destiny. I realised I wanted to be fucked. He must have picked up my signals or something; maybe I relaxed my bottom, thighs and pussy. For in one movement his cock slid deeply into me as his finger entered my anus. "Oh God," I groaned. I knew that was part out of desperation and disappointment at 'letting' him. That it was part out of frustration at not being strong enough to resist and at letting my womanly physical needs outweigh my emotional restraints. But, I had to admit that the groan was largely due to the enormous rush of sexual pleasure I received from having my cunt and arse fucked at the same time. * Of course I didn't end it. It was just with sex where he went a little out of kilter, but then did he really? Was he not in effect giving me what I wanted? I just didn't know and didn't understand what was happening to us or to me. But then if he did, what was I doing? What was I doing walking around with severe red marks on my breasts and bruises on my thighs and the cheeks of bum? What was I doing, sporting his, or were they our, trophy marks? What was I doing letting him hurt me, control me, give me pain and force himself on me? What was I doing letting him 'near rape' me? What was I doing sitting in high-level meetings with very senior businessmen, lawyers and accountants with my tits, thighs, tummy and buttocks covered in his deep red love bites. And What was I doing 'enjoying' being dominated, abused, demeaned and hurt when I was such a powerful force in the banking world? What was I doing, fuck knows, for I didn't? It was a hugely difficult time for me. I felt terrible about what I let him do to me. I had enormous guilt trips after I got home from a date. I had so much remorse about letting him pinch, squeeze, bite, suck, pull my hair and hit me. I had more remorse about continually going back for further pain, domination and abuse and even more, because I was, I realised, enjoying what he did to me; I seemed to welcome those advances and despite my mind telling me to stop, my body forced me to want to go further. 'Where will it all end?' I often wondered. * "Uncover your tits," came up in the little window on the screen. "I can't Greta is here," I typed back. "Who the fuck's Grets." "My niece, she's here for a few days." "How old is she?" "Too young for you, you dirty sod." He laughed "Where in the apartment is she?" James typed. "In her room." "You would hear if she opened the door wouldn't you?" "Yes." "Well get your tits out then." "I might not have time to get them away." "So?" "James you promised that whatever happens, you would never involve me in things like that with others around." "Yes sorry Michy, I was getting excited, getting carried away." "lol, I know, so was I?" "Would you like to uncover your tits for me M?" "You know I would." "Lovely, are they marked?" "Yes, they have big red marks on the undersides on both boobs and less fierce ones on the tops." "I wish I could see them, it's been ages." "Well if you have to go away on a training course." "You know it can't be helped." "Yes, of course I do, when will you be back?" "Wednesday, can I see you?" "What time?" "I have the day and night off, can you get away?" "All night?" "Yes, if possible I want to fuck you all night." "Sounds wonderful," I replied truthfully. "Yes I have some ideas that I think you will like. I have some plans" "What are they?" I asked, my curiosity aroused. "You'll see if you make it on Wednesday. And you had better make it or I will have to especially punish you, won't I?" "Yes," I whimpered, hating myself for agreeing as I felt both the chill of fear and the heat of sexual excitement go through me. "You like me punishing you, don't you, slut?" "Yes," I said, even more quietly. "Feel your nipples." "Ok." "Are they hard?" "Yes James, very." "Then get your tits, no sorry, I was forgetting Greta," James said, once more confusing me, as he often did, with the combination of his dark and light sides. "Can you hold a moment?" "Yes, of course." "I'm back." "Where did you go?" "My bedroom and Greta's?" "Why, what did you do?" "I told her I was going to have shower, the waters difficult if we both have one at the same time so we always tell each other." "Is she in bed?" "Yes watching Big Brother, bloody show." "So?" He asked, meaningfully. "I got ready for my shower." "So what are you wearing?" "That blue, silk robe." "And?" "Nail varnish and a smile." "Bra?" "No." "Panties." "No." "Anything else?" "Just my earings." "Good." "And James, I have got my tits out." "Take some photos on your phone. I want to see the marks." "Hold on, let me go to the bathroom." "Well?" "Great, I love the tits and the marks are fantastic, you got any anywhere else?" "Not really, the ones on my thighs have nearly gone." "How much longer will they last on your tits?" "Two three days and they'll be gone." "Well we'll have to do something about that on Wednesday, won't we?" "Oh, James, why do I do this?" "Because you love it, because you're my slut. You are aren't you?" "Yes," I whispered. "And you want me to hurt you and mark you don't you, for that's what sluts like Michaela and you are a fucking slut, the like of which I have never met before." "Ohhhhhh." I Sighed. "And what makes you an even bigger slut Michaela is that I am going to make you cum right here and now with your precious, little fucking niece upstairs in bed aren't I?" "Yes James, you are." I said my emotions responding to his control, my body reacting to his words as my hand parted the folds of the robe and slid between my eagerly opening thighs. * "Mmmmm well done," James said, looking me up and down as I removed the long coat. "Exactly as I asked." "Yes," I replied, noting he was wearing the black, silky, but not silk, shorty, dressing gown he had taken to being in when I went to his small flat in Blackheath Village, quite near the station. I had parked my car in the lane that runs up the side of the hospital; there were no restrictions there, which was convenient for I parked it at four pm knowing it might be there until the next morning. As I had walked the few hundred yards to his flat, I kept my coat tightly around me, covering me from neck to mid-calf. As part of his 'plans' for our Wednesday, he had explained how he wanted me to dress. I found stimulation in being told that and I gained an even greater thrills getting ready. He had sent me a blouse that he had ordered on the net. It was white cotton, low quality and thus fairly see-through when stretched. As it was probably a size or so too small for me, it certainly was stretched in places; across my breasts and round my stomach, and thus, slightly see-through. The shadows of my areola were evident and hints of my, not yet swollen nipples, were clear. When it arrived, I was wearing just a dressing gown, having just showered. I slipped that off, put the blouse on and looked at my near naked form in the mirror. Then, what were now hints, were massive, full on exclamations as my nipples rose to their full erection. I knew that would happen soon, now I was with James. The blouse had buttons all the way up the front, three of which on his instruction were left undone. As I was not wearing a bra, my cleavage was wide rather than deep, for my breasts, lacking the support their D+ size now requires, sagged a little and flopped to the sides. When I moved they wiggled and jiggled quite alarmingly. I knew he would like that. I had managed to find something akin to what he had described as 'a skirt that looks like a schoolgirl's." It was quite thin, just above knee level and loose, but not flared, just a simple, straight skirt of the fashion that I had worn at school. It was made from a thin, charcoal grey wool. He hadn't specified what I should wear under it, so I wore dark blue hosiery and panties. I had mid-size heeled court shoes with a strap and buckle. "Wine or vodka?" He asked knowing they were my drinks. He wasn't as bright and bubbly as usual. He seemed on edge, tense and taught and he was terse when he spoke. That worried me as to what his plans were. "I don't mind thanks James. Is everything alright?" "Yes, of course, why shouldn't it be?" "I don't know, you just seem a little on edge." Lifting the bottle of Stolly he poured fairly large slugs into two, tall thin glasses and smiled. "Probably excited about today, you'd better have vodka." "Why?" I asked taking the vodka and walking over to the tiny kitchen area in the corner. I topped it up with water and opened the freezer for ice. When alone like this and when building up to one of our 'special' sessions that we still didn't talk about after, he nearly always made me do things like that myself. This was in complete contrast to when we were in restaurants or other places, when he was 'the perfect gentleman! It was almost as if he was getting into a role to abuse and hurt me, I thought my heart beating slightly faster at the idea; fear or excitement, I wondered. "My plans." "Well come on," I said sipping the vodka as I sat down on the arm of settee. "Gonna explain." "You'll see, soon, how are you." "Fine, James and you, how was the course?" "Boring as hell, but had some good times in the evenings." "What sort of good times?" "Oh mostly in the bar of the training centre, but in the town a couple of nights." "Really? And what happened?" "What do you think happened on a Friday night in Newcastle with a load of horny cops?" "I have no idea," I replied, probably a little frostily. "Use your imagination, Michaela. Newcastle is known for its easy crumpet." "I see." "You don't." "Ok, I don't" "Wanna know?" "Not especially," I lied feeling ridiculously jealous. "Ok, all I'll say then was she fucking good in bed." "Really?" I replied trying to sound nonplussed and disinterested. "Yes, totally uninhibited." "Oh great," I mumbled taking a slightly larger sip of the vodka and water than I had intended. "Yeah two of us, my Sergeant and me pulled in a bar. Want to know the sordid, oh fuck who's that?" He said sounding surprised at the ring of the bell. "You'd better find out," I replied standing up and turning my back on the door, hiding the show of my breasts. I was amazed and shocked when just a second or so later he said. "Here she is Trev, this is Michaela." With my arms crossed over my boobs, I turned. "And this Michaela, is my sergeant, Trevor." "Hi Michaela," he said putting his hand out. I had no alternative but to shake his it as he said, looking straight at the wobbling display of bare breasts. "James has told me all about you and I am very pleased to meet you." "And you," I replied almost struggling to get my hand out of his. "Drink Trev?" James infuriatingly asked him as I re-crossed my arms. "Yeah, give some of that Scotch you got from Gibbsy." "Michaela, pour Trev the Scotch, it's in the bottom of that cupboard," he said nodding at a large cupboard in the little kitchen area. I nearly told him to fuck off and do it himself, but something stopped me. I was very surprised to see three cases of Johnny Walker Black and three Stolly in the bottom of the cupboard. "Perk of the job Michaela," Trev said when I stood up by the cupboard with a bottle in my hand. He was standing right beside, very close, too close really. I moved away and reached up for a glass, acutely aware of his gaze on my chest as the thin, cheap cotton was stretched across my boobs. "Very nice," he said. I looked at him sharply as I brought my hand down with the glass. "Black label I meant, one of the best there is," he said with a broad grin. I handed him the glass and bottle and went to move away. "I said pour him a drink Michy," James said, unusually sharply for him. "Not give him a fucking bottle and glass and pour it himself. Trev just stared at me. He was only my height, which seemed short to me for a policeman and he was clearly overweight, probably being around one ninety pounds. He wasn't a totally unattractive man, but one would be hard pushed to call him good looking. He had a shaved head, which though quite fashionable didn't quite go with his age that I put around fifty. "Just a touch of water Michaela, please," he said, the leering smile on his face as he witnessed my conflict between being polite and telling them both to bugger off. Or, had James told him about the way that he had started controlling and dominating me, I wondered? "Oh shit, forgot to get any fags," he suddenly announced after taking a gulp of the Scotch and water. "Be right back," he went on finishing the drink and adding as he walked to the door. "Same again please Michaela when I get back." "What the hell's going on James?" I asked. "Nothing." "What's he doing here?" "He's a mate as well as my boss." "So, why's he here?" "He just pops in now and then?" I stopped grilling him when he said. "Look Michaela why don't you just leave it, we'll have a few drinks and that's it. Just relax, that'll make it better later." "Later?" "Yes when we put my plan into action." He said rather tightly. James got hold of my hand and pressed it against the silky material of the dressing. He was hard. "See it's making me hard just thinking about it. Like it?" It was a nice feeling. Momentarily I forgot about Trev as James ran his fingertips over my nipples making them almost instantly stand up. "Why didn't you tell him I was here?" I asked softly feeling tender towards him as he cupped my breast and I slid my hand inside the gown and took hold of his cock. "I did, that's why he came, he wanted to meet you." "Oh ok, fine," I replied not at all sure what that meant, but it was too late for he was back ringing the bell. "Want one James?" He asked offering him the pack of Marlboro reds. "No thanks Trev, later maybe." Trev lit up, not offering me the packet or even asking if I minded, which incidentally I didn't, but custom nowadays usually dictates the courtesy. "So mate, how are things?" He said to Trevor. "Great and you?" "Pretty nifty," he replied suddenly turning and looking at me. "Be even better if I had that fucking drink, Michaela." James joined in. "He did ask before he went, why didn't you do it as I told you?" I almost said because I was stroking your cock, but thought better of it. Instead, I didn't bother to reply, but picked up Trev's glass and walked to the kitchen. Just as I got there, I heard Trev's voice. "You let her get away with that James?" "What?" James replied. "Not asking if you want one?" "Shit yes, what's the matter with you Michaela, where's your fucking manners?" James's heavy, stern voice asked me. I turned and saw then standing close together staring at me. James's erection was quite evident under his gown. Trev must have noticed I thought. "Sorry," I replied. "So you should be, come and get my glass," James ordered, even though he was standing no more than eight feet or so from the kitchen. I walked back to him and he handed me his glass. I went to pick mine up. "Not yet young lady," Trev said. "Do ours first, then James may let you have some. Mayn't you officer?" "Yes Sarge, I may." "This was getting weird. There was a chill in the room. James was stern and fierce whereas Trev was mocking and teasing. They were both clearly enjoying themselves at my discomfort, but then in a perverse and totally incomprehensible way, so was I. I just didn't get it. I had just got to the kitchen when I heard Trev say. "Must have a pee." As he left the room, James said. "Forget the drinks for the moment, just come here." I had poured them so I put the glasses down on the only work surface in the alcove that formed the kitchen and turned and went back to where he was standing. "What do you think of Trev?" He asked. "Nothing, why?" "What do you mean nothing, you must think something." "He's ok, why?" "Just asking," James said taking me into his arms and pressing his erection against me. "Like that?" "Mmmm," I murmured back squirming against it. "Nice." "Want it?" He asked pulling me tightly to him "Always," I said using one of our little personal jokes that had developed through the relationship. "Then you can have it right now can't you, you slut," I heard from Trev behind me. I went to look over my shoulder, but James turned me so I was facing Trev. He was naked. "What the hell's going on?" I said sharply as James wrapped his arms round me from behind. "You'll see," he said as I stared in disbelief at Trev. It wasn't just the fact that he was naked, it was also that he was half erect and had quite a large dick; the thought, 'hung like a donkey,' ridiculously came to mind. James was not now holding me, he was restricting me. I couldn't get away. He went on. "I asked you what you think of Trev didn't I?" "Yes, yes you did," I said rather warily feeling James's erection pushing against my bum and seeing Trev walk to the kitchen and get his and James's drinks, but not mine. He had a squat, rather hairy body with no real curves. It was almost square and seemed to be dominated by the sizeable prick, which rather reminded me of the periscope on a submarine. As he walked back with their drinks so his erection grew. It wasn't that he had a particularly long cock that caught my attention, it was its thickness. The thought of that in me made me shudder, but I didn't know whether that was with, fear or excitement? "So what do you think now?" James asked as I struggled to escape. "Let me go this is daft." "That's what you said last time isn't it?" He asked. "What?" "That it was daft and I was insane and then you grovelled as I fucked you on the floor of the hotel room, didn't I slut." "No James, that was different." "How?" "You know," I muttered. "No I don't, tell me." "It was us James, just the two of us, now come on let me go," I nearly begged trying to pull away. "No. I'll decide when to let you go. So what do you think?" He asked. "About what?" "My mate and boss, Trev." "He's fine," I said as diplomatically as I could. Trev. was standing a few feet away, completely, rampantly and seemingly totally unselfconsciously, naked, sipping his Scotch and smiling, more leering really, at me. I looked down and saw why. My nipples were as hard as pebbles and clearly on view through the thin material. "How fine?" "What do you mean, how fine?" I asked. "Fine enough to fuck is he?" "What do you mean?" "I mean," James said putting his arms inside mine and grabbing both of my tits. "Is he fine enough for you to fuck him?" "James, no, no," I cried the realisation of what he had planned hitting me. A Two Cop Fuck "Don't say, no, no, slut, you do as I say and I say yes, yes." " Please don't James, please, please," I begged as Trev move towards me. "We're mates Michaela and mates share," James said sliding his arms up, round the front of my shoulders and behind my neck, taking me into some form of police hold, I thought. It was impossible for me to escape and even quite hard to make any meaningful struggle. What's more, though, was that by being in this complicated hold, my arms were pulled away from my sides and held rigid by his, I had no control over them. "Yes Michaela," Trev said leeringly running his gaze up and down my body. "James and I share everything, including the booze and that old slapper the other night in Newcastle." As he put his hand out towards me and as I tried, pitifully, to escape so James continued. "And including you Michaela, I have said that he can fuck you if he wants, is that ok?" It was out, his plan was on the table, I was the plan, and Trev was going to fuck me as James looked on. "No, no, don't," I groaned as I helplessly watched Trev's hands move towards me. "Stop, don't." "Shut up Michaela, you're my slut, you know that and sluts do as their master tells them." "Not this James, please, not this," I moaned as Trev ran his hands over my breasts, squeezing and pressing the soft flesh. "Why, what's wrong with him?" James asked. "Nothing." "Then let him fuck you, slag." "No, I can't, I just can't. Stop Trev please." I was whining as his hands squeezed harder. "Don't you like your tits played with, most tarts do," Trev said, scooping each mound and pushing them together. "Well slut, don't you?" "Answer the sergeant Michaela, he is the boss." "Yes," I mewed quietly. "Well then you'll like this won't you?" Trev asked pulling the tail of the blouse out of the skirt and sliding his hands inside right on to my bare flesh. "Stop, stop please stop," I whined as James pulled my shoulders back with his arms and pushed my head forward with his hands. It hurt and I cried out with pain. At the same time Trev took hold of both my nipples and pinched them hard. The pain in my shoulder moulded with that in my nipples. I nearly screamed. "Fuckingwell shut up and be nice to my boss, Michaela. I have told him you're my slut and he can do what he wants to you, that's what sluts are for, so shut up moaning, don't make a fool of me and let Trev do what he wants to you." I could hardly believe what was happening. The man I had been having an affair with was 'giving' me to someone else, just like a slave. I felt demeaned, abused and dirty. I had let James take me this far, I had gone further than I had ever dreamed I would, I was sliding rapidly down the ladder of degradation. But oddly, it excited me at the same time as it repulsed me. "No, I can't." "I told you to shut up. Now don't say another word if you know what's good for you. Keep your mouth shut and let him get your tits out and then he's going to fuck you." "Oh James," I pleaded, before I did scream with pain when both of them took hold of my hair and pulled it hard, James forced my head down so my chin was flat against my chest and Trev pinched and pulled my nipples. "I fucking told you," James growled pulling harder on my hair and suddenly without warning biting the back of my neck. This was awful. It was worse, far worse than anything James had done to me before or even anything I had imagined he might do in the future. I really was scared now. "Alright if I get the slut's tits out Trev." "Course it's alright mate." "No," I groaned my body jerking as James bit me harder, pushed my head further forward and pulled my hair harder. "I take it that it's ok then?" Trev asked just as if he was asking for agreement on something trivial, not baring my tits then fucking me, a total stranger. But then he wasn't going to fuck me was he, he was going to rape me! "No, please no," I groaned, my resolve to fight reducing every time I said anything and both of them hurt me. "I told you to shut the fuck up," James, my supposed partner, growled giving me another strong shot of pain by yanking my hair. "Do as he says slut," Trev said grabbing hold of my chin and jerking my head up. "Look at me, look at my cock, look at the cock that I am gonna shove up you and fuck you rigid." I stayed still not looking at anything really. Smack. I think I heard the sound before the pain and before I realised he had slapped my face. "You bastard," I spat out. That just brought on a torrent of abuse from both of them, another face smack from Trev and James's teeth digging into the soft flesh on my shoulder. "Shut up cunt," Trev said. "Let me see your tits, those big fat tits I've been touching. There was nothing I could do and I didn't dare say anything as he took hold of the lapels of the blouse the back of his fingernails brushing against the top of my breasts. Looking me right in the eye he said. "If you won't get yer tits out I will," and with one big yank he ripped the front of the blouse undone. It tore and ripped and a couple of buttons flew off, uncovering me right down my front. I squirmed against James trying to escape or, at least get away from the advancing, naked Trev. It was hopeless. "It's no use struggling, bitch," Trev said. "In any case when you do, your big, flabby tits wobble all over the place. Bit saggy aren't they James?" He said. "Yeah," James said cupping my right breast and lifting it up. "Ok like this though, wanna suck it?" "No, don't please," I groaned trying to wiggle my boob from James's hand." Of course it was impossible. Of course I couldn't get away, of course I couldn't get my breast out of James's hand; of course I couldn't, of course I couldn't stop the pair of them doing what they wanted, exactly what they wanted. And that was for James to hold my tits as Trev sucked them. And he sucked them, hard. His lips and teeth on the flesh of each of my tits and on my nipples. He sucked, he gave me love bites on the tops of each boob, and he bit and chewed each of my nipples. He hurt me, badly. I yelped and groaned, almost screamed, at the pain and at the indignity of my position. "Just like that Geordie slapper 'aint she Jimbo?" "Sure is, bu she was younger" James hurtfully replied. It was hopeless, it was awful. It was so demeaning. Held by one man in a dressing gown, his erection pressing against my bum, as another naked man sucked and chewed my tits which he had bared by ripping my blouse undone. How had I sunk to such depths? How had I come to this? How had the power of a little force, pain and domination that had been so exciting with a man I had met by accident gravitated to such a situation where I was being dominated by the power of force and pain? Fuck knows I thought as I heard Trev say. "What's the slut's cunt like James?" I could hardly believe what I heard. It was so fucking insulting, demeaning, degrading and abusive that I wanted to fight back. But what could I do? It got worse. "Have a look Trev. Have a look at my sluts cunt, she won't mind, will you Michaela?" I didn't reply, but instead, rather ridiculously and clearly futilely, crossed my legs and struggled, wiggling my bottom, which only served to squeeze that against James's erection. "Will you Michaela?" James asked again, giving my neck a painful jerk forward. I didn't want any more pain so I mumbled "No." "Good, you're learning, at last." I was staring at the naked Trev, taking in his squat, hairy unattractive body and smug, leering face. He revolted me and I felt sick at the image of him shagging me. God this was so out of control, I just wished that James and I had worked out a safe 'stop' word, but we hadn't. I felt James, moving his arms and for a moment I thought he might be ending this hell. No such luck of course. No, he was altering his grip so that he held me just as securely, but for some reason he had freed my hands. "OK Michaela," he said, rather thickly right into my ear "Show him." "What? What do you mean?" I asked, momentarily puzzled. "I mean, Michaela, do what sluts do." "Huh? "Sluts show their cunts, so show Trev your cunt, you slag." "How, what do you mean?" I asked rather stupidly, perhaps trying to buy time. "Are you fucking stupid or what?" Trev said, grabbing my right breast and squeezing painfully, his eyes boring into mine showing the delight he was getting from hurting me. I gasped with the pain. "Just lift your skirt up Michaela and show Trev your panties first." I couldn't think of a more degrading thing to be asked to do. To expose my, most private places to the horrible man who, presumably, was later going to take me by force; it was a little like the condemned man building his own coffin. But in James's tight grip and with Trev standing right in front of there was no alternative, unless I wanted to test just how far they would go with exerting pain on me, and that I didn't want to do. "Michaela?" James said in a softer tone. "Yes James," I replied, thinking maybe he was going to save me both the likely further pain and, what was now becoming as difficult to take, the additional indignity of exposing myself to the little, naked turd standing leering at me. "I am going to trust you and let you go, so don't try anything or I will rip your fucking hair out. Ok?" "Yes," I muttered, feeling disappointed. "I'm letting you go so you can do a better job for my mate and boss, that's the only reason," James said, releasing me. "So promise me you won't do anything stupid, as I don't want to have to do that." "I wouldn't mind," Trev chipped in again grabbing my breast and squeezing that hard. It was an odd sensation to stand there letting a man hurt me by squeezing my naked breast as my lover looked on, but there was no alternative. Trev stared right into my eyes as he said. "So come on Michaela, show us your cunt, lift your skirt up." I was resigned to what I had to do. Not happy or even excited come to that, for I found Trev revolting. Momentarily, as I reached down towards the hem of my skirt, I wondered how I would be feeling if James had chosen a twenty-something year old Adonis? But he hadn't and so I was being abused and demeaned to unimaginable levels in front of the despicable Trev, even his fucking, stupid name annoyed me. James moved round in front of me and joined his friend staring at me. "Come on give us a show," he said as I rested my hands firmly, my fingers pointing downwards on the grey wool skirt midway between my hips and knees. Slowly, more slowly than I intended I inched it upwards. Up from my knees, along that big muscle, onto my thighs until I knew, from the expression on their faces I was exposing the lacy stocking tops of the blue holdups. I edged it further, showing that delicious looking patch of skin above my stocking tops. It went further revealing the bottom of the blue, lace thong I was wearing and then the entire thong. "Fucking hell, James look at those sluts' stockings, what a fucking slag she is. Look at the thong. You get off wearing this stuff?" Trev asked as his cock reared up his stomach again from the semi-erect it had slipped into. When I didn't reply he asked again. "Well do you?" "I wore it for James; he likes me wearing sexy stuff." "Does he now? He asked moving close to me. "And do you like wearing it too?" Looking into his eyes in the hope I could somehow call on his better nature, I asked. "Do you like it Trev?" "I didn't ask you to ask that, I asked if you like wearing it. Do you." "Yes," I mumbled. "Does it make you feel good?" "Sometimes." "Make you feel sexy does it?" "Yes, sometimes," I whispered as I saw his hand moving towards me. "How about now?" He asked. "What do you mean?" I replied trying to buy time as I felt his hand on my panties just above my pubes. "You know what I fuckingwell mean, you fat tart," he said, the fierceness returning to his voice as, without further, ado he pushed his hand down and between my legs, right onto my lips. "You fucking slut," he said running his fingers along them as I went to move away. However, seeing the threat in James's eyes stopped me, so I stood there and let Trev leave his hand inside my panties as he played with my pussy."Your cunt's wet, isn't it?" "Is it? I don't know." "Look," he said putting his finger in front of my face. It was glistening. He pressed it against my closed lips. "Lick your cum juice you slut." As I did I heard him saying. "Methinks the slut is beginning to enjoy this James, look at her fucking nipples." I couldn't believe that those bastards had so let me down again. I looked at them; they were like fucking organ stops. "Have I excited you, have I got you going?" Trev asked, wiggling his finger along the crease of my pussy. "Well, have I?" He asked taking one of my nipples between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. "Speak to me, you bitch," he said looking into my eyes as he pinched harder. I looked back determined not to show that he was hurting me. He pinched harder. I didn't flinch or move. The pain in my nipple, as he accompanied the pinching with twisting it, was bad, but I didn't move or show anything. We stared at each other in a bizarre sort of Mexican stand-off. He had a slight grin on his face, but I thought I would be able to outlast him, for the pain was bearable. But when, suddenly, he shoved, what must have been three or four finger, right up me, I couldn't avoid gasping and crying out loud. "Like that do you?" He asked I didn't reply as he continued pinching and twisting my nipple and started pumping his fingers up and down me. "Well do you?" It was the final indignity, well so far. It was the ultimate degradation. I felt dirty, spoiled, ashamed and full of guilt as I felt myself moving in tune with his hand. "Well?" He said shoving his fingers in me as far as he could get them and holding them there like a surrogate cock. Surrogate it may have been, but my basest female instincts took over and I started to work it, I commenced using it yes, I began to fuck the surrogate cock that Trev was providing. "Michaela, I won't ask again and I'll tear your fucking nipple off. Do you like it?" Tears running down my cheeks I mumbled, full of shame and total degradation. "Yes Trev I do." * I had sort of assumed that they would fuck me together. Maybe one in my bum, which I don't like, but can endure, and the other in my pussy, or one in that and the other in my mouth or between my tits. But, they didn't. It was almost as if they didn't want to get too near to each other, as if they were scared of the other's nakedness for I noticed they took great care not to touch each other. Male macho, typical cop culture I thought. After admitting that I did like it, he almost, but not quite made me cum. I think had he have not removed the surrogate cock I would have done. And that would have been most demeaning, but that was saved for later. Trev took his fingers out of me. "Get us some drinks," he ordered handing me his glass. The skirt bunched round my waist, the blouse open and the thong pulled down I did as I was told. "Go and make some sandwiches," James said, adding. "And don't try escaping the door is locked. I went to smooth my skirt down, but as I did Trev grabbed hold of the waistband of my thong. "Leave it up and take this fucking thing off, I told you I want to see your cunt. Get the sandwiches first though. Obediently, I went and made them both tuna and cucumber sandwiches. They were sitting on the sofa when I returned. I had felt rather foolish, but also other things that I couldn't quite put my finger on, as I had made the drinks and sandwiches and served them to them dressed like that I handed them the plates, feeling a bit like a bunny girl as I bent forward. I felt even more like one as James fondled my tits and Trev groped my bum. "Ok Michaela, get your knickers off, Trev wants to see your cunt. It actually aint bad mate." James said as if discussing a pot plant or something. "Stand there with your back to the table," he went on nodding at where I was to stand. I stood before them my hands at my side in a position of supplication. I waited for my orders. I realised that I felt differently to earlier. I felt more relaxed, almost at peace with myself. I guess I was resigned to what had been happening, what was happening and what was surely about to happen. What that might be longer term that evening I didn't know. What that meant right now, though, was that I was going to remove my knickers and show James and Trev my cunt. And, most oddly that, far from phasing or scaring me, was beginning to excite me, fuck it! "Ok then Michaela, fucking well get on with it," Trev said. He looked incongruous sitting down with his hard on sticking up from his paunch tummy. It seemed hard to think of him as the man who had been given me such pain for the past half hour or. It was even harder to think of him being the man who had nearly made me cum with that surrogate cock! I shimmied my panties down my legs revealing my pubic patch to both of them and then I stood there for a moment or two. It must have been some scene. My torn blouse with most of the buttons missing hanging down over my bare tits. One side was caught on a nipple which, frustratingly was still extended and hard, the other was somehow tucked round the side of my boob, thus revealing all of it. My grey, wool skirt was bunched round my waist and I was wearing the blue lacy top holdups. In any other setting I would have felt sexy and erotic. In this, though, with the red marks all over my boobs and probably the back of my neck as well I felt different. But then it was different, there were two perverted bastards staring at me, one completely naked, the other wearing just a dressing gown. And they were leering at me. They stood up and walked over to me. As if rehearsed, they both grabbed one of my breasts and squeezed them. "Right slut, its cunt inspection time," James said. "Get on the table." I sat on the edge of it, my legs together. "How the fuck we going to inspect your cunt like that, stoopid," Trev said. "Get further on the table and lay down. I did as he asked. James went round the table, behind me out of my view. Suddenly I felt him place something on my eyes. 'Fuck he's blindfolding me,' I thought. He was, but that wasn't the end of it either. Suddenly and quickly both of them grabbed my legs and arms, pulled them across the table, slipped rope round them and tied my wrists and ankles. My arms were pulled nearly straight above my head, my legs were wide open. "No, stop, please," I moaned only to feel a hard slap on my breast. "Just shut up Michaela and everything will be ok," James said. "Keep on and I'll punch you right on your cunt," Trev added. I really was very scared now. I felt so terribly vulnerable. With my arms as they were, my breasts were completely exposed and with my tied legs spread as wide open as they could go my most womanly place was open and totally revealed to them so they could do whatever they wished with it. "Bit big ennit James?" "Dunno, she takes me ok." "Is it saggy, been used too much?" Trev asked as one of their sets of fingers ran round the edge of my lips. "No surprisingly tight," James graciously replied. I could feel that they were both staring at me there; in fact I could feel their hot breath on my open thighs. "Do you want to have her now?" I heard James, so disappointedly asking him. "No not yet, I wanna play some other games first." He replied to my consternation, for I wasn't quite sure that I would not have rather got it over and done with.