-Straight white cop is lured into a high speed chase that ends with bound, teased and utterly broken. And he's not the first of Michael's victim on the Force.-
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Officer James Thompson's police cruiser was parked on the outskirts of the uneventful town he had patrolled for the better part of 15 years. Nothing exciting ever happened in Freehold, NJ and nothing exciting had even seemed like it might happen in that entire time.
Except for what had happened over the course of the past two weeks.
That was why Thompson's cruiser was parked so far away from where any townsfolk might see it. That's why it was visibly rocking back and forth. That was why he was in the back seat of his cruiser, sweating profusely as he worked his ass up and down close to a foot of the biggest cock he'd ever seen. That was why he so desperately needed to make it cum, not just so he could return to the station house without raising suspicions as to his whereabouts. But mainly because he now lived to please it and the unstoppable force of nature that had broken him so irrevocably.
Michael.
For close to an hour, Officer Thompson had exerted every last ounce of energy into becoming the cocksleeve that Michael had trained him to be. His legs were watery. There was a stitch in his side and he was gasping for breath. But every time he thought he was getting close...
It would happen again.
Michael didn't really move. He would just... flex his dick inside of Thompson's ass. On every downstroke. With perfect timing. And it would hit his prostate in rhythm to his bounces and...
Oh, god.
Not again.
Thompson sprayed his 5th nut of the night against the back of the driver's seat.
"Guh.... guh.... Sorry, Michael."
"Don't say sorry with your mouth, faggot! Say it with your pussy."
Smack!
With Michael's red handprint on his ass, Thompson shrieked like a little girl and started bouncing again.
He had to make Michael cum so he could get back to the station house.
To his family.
But mostly he just had to make Michael cum because that's what Michael wanted.
And Michael always got what he wanted.
How did this happen? How could Freehold's toughest cop be turned into a simpering cumrag for a 19 year old punk kid in under two weeks?
Though, Thompson had lived through the experiences he was now vividly recalling as Michael pulled back hard on his hair and he ground his ass against his torturer's lap, he still could not help but wonder if it was some kind of horrible nightmare.
That he never wanted to wake from....
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Two Weeks Earlier
Thompson slouched in the passenger's side of car 19 on the southbound side of route 34, a cup of rapidly cooling coffee in one hand and a new department standard radar speed gun in the other. He hoped that some impatient alpha male would do 80 in a 45 and give him something to do for the next 30 minutes.
No such luck. Just another boring ass night shift keeping the peace. No robberies. No assaults. Not even a noise complaint. It's like everyone in this town of 35,000 people were always on their best behavior all the time just to drive him up the wall and make his 10 hour shift seem more like 10 days.
"Dear God. Please make something happen in this podunk town so I remember why I joined the force in the first place." he beseeched the almighty for the fiftieth time that year. With no luck.
He realized that he would probably sell his soul to have something completely upend the monotonous routine of his predictable suburban life.
Sometimes you wish for things that you later come to regret.
Suddenly, a jet black Dodge Challenger flew past him heading south towards the more sparsely populated end of town.
The LIDAR gun kicked out a max speed of 105 mph.
Yes! 60 over the speed limit would trigger an automatic felony charge of public endangerment. Something on his service record beyond "drunk-and-disorderly"s and breaking up the occasional fight between neighbors over the state of the other's lawn maintenance.
He turned the key on his souped-up police interceptor, called into dispatch that he was in pursuit of the muscle car. Strangely, the man on dispatch, Joon Li, didn't respond with the usual statement of other units who would support his pursuit and apprehension.
"Uh, sorry, car 19. We have units responding to multiple 119-7's so you'll have to wait a bit on support", the normally smoothly efficient Li said in a much more hesitant tone.
"Got it!" He replied confidently. He was a highly trained law enforcement officer and there wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
"Good luck." Li replied in that same diffident way that was so unlike how he normally came over the radio.
By now, Thompson was doing 120 in pursuit of the Challenger, barreling down the highway meant for much lower speeds. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered hearing a bunch of civilian complaints about how these kinds of pursuits were unnecessary and often a greater danger to the public than the criminals they were pursuing.
"Libtard pussies!", he thought.
He felt a rush of adrenaline as he spotted the Challenger's taillights appear in the distance. Oddly, enough, the LIDAR gun displayed its new speed as only 40 mph, 5 under the speed limit.
Maybe this asshole had spotted the cruiser and done what every dipshit member of the public did when they saw a cop car after they'd been speeding and slowed down a lot, like that was gonna change anything.
He turned on his lights and the Challenger slowed down even more but did not pull over immediately. Instead, it pulled into the entrance of the newest suburban neighborhood, still under construction. Completely deserted with multiple backhoes, and cement mixers at multiple locations throughout.
The Challenger pulled to a stop under one of the neighborhood's newly installed street lamps and was seemingly turned off, the taillights dimming out.
"Car 19 to dispatch, pursuit ended. Approaching the Challenger, now. Will radio again after arrest."
"Good luck", again, Li sounded like an entirely different person. Like Thompson was on the most dangerous assignment of his whole life instead of a slightly thrilling high speed pursuit.
Ignoring that nagging feeling of something being off, Thompson stepped out of his vehicle with his gun drawn and rapidly approached the vehicle's driver's side window. Procedure called for him to have his service weapon unsecured in its holster and his hand just on it, not drawn, but he thought, "Fuck it, let's make this more exciting."
If only he'd known.
The window was down so he could see the perp clearly. Young (probably no more than 20), tall, handsome in a smug way, wearing dark clothing.
