This is a fantasy of non consent. In reality any sexual act without prior informed consent is nothing less than rape and deserves the fullest punishment of the law. This is presented only as a fantasy. If you are disturbed by scenes of non consensual sex, public humiliation, blackmail, masturbation, or police women in sexual peril, then you should stop reading.
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My name is Constable Ann Lennon, I am a ten year veteran of the RCMP, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I work in Surrey, which is one of the largest municipalities inside greater Vancouver, one that is very ethnically diverse and crime ridden. I spent the first few years on the force as a street constable, then got pulled into working public affairs because I had a very soft and sincere speaking voice, and the body that allowed me to put myself through school, including my criminology and social work degrees, through underwear modelling.
I have a condominium in Surry that is on the edge of a bad area, but with the development plans the city has been running past the RCMP for input, I know urban renewal is going to make this the epicenter of a new community and triple my property value in a year. The building itself is wonderful and has only one drawback.
The manager. The Manager is a fat balding bear of a Hindu named Vihan. He and his two brothers and oldest son look after maintenance of the building, and its two adjoining properties, but they live in this one. Their office is directly across from the weight room, and I can see them when I work out in my police T shirt and skin tight leggings watching me, and I swear I would feel a lot happier if I could see their hands just once above the window. I can't prove they were jacking off, or I would arrest them, but they sit their watching me on the stair master or bike, the weight machines, making me feel like a stripper performing for them.
The sad thing is, with my profession, I am too high profile to date. My fellow officers just want in my pants so they can brag they "banged the spokesbabe", and everyone with a shred more refinement wants to use me for my contacts in business, government, or with high profile ongoing organized crime investigations. Literally, there is no one I can date without consequences, so I have been on a two year dry spell from my last failed attempt.
Lately my toys were not cutting it. There is only so far you can go with a hand held. I had recently been experimenting with self bondage, I have access to basically unlimited police cuffs, including the more elaborate prisoner transport shackle systems.
I may not be able to get a date, but the closest I have been to heaven was with my Magic Wand strapped to me, my wrists and ankles cuffed in irons, cumming my box off until I could make the keys work and let myself free. The feeling of helplessness was increasingly a part of my need to get off.
I had to do something for myself soon, I swear every time I passed Vihan, he would grab his cock through those dirty grey sweats, and I was beginning to blush and get excited when he did. I would never give that dirty brown man or his pig brothers the satisfaction of knowing their perverted eyes on me drove me to more and more extreme acts of self bondage, even using the big clamps from my investigation files on my nipples during my bondage sessions to pretend it was the teeth of strong unforgiving men.
The answer was here. The Motorbunny. A riding vibrator, like a saddle. It plugged into the wall and sounded a bit like a cross between a small air compressor and large weed wacker. It had a big black saddle, four shiny iron rings at each corner to attack arm and leg irons, nipple clamps or such other restraints as amused you.
You could control it with the big remote, or through your phone. If I had a lover, I could have let them use the app to control the device while I was totally helpless, even if they were in another province. I don't have a lover, but that fantasy hit all my little submissive buttons so I ordered it, even at a cost of about a months salary.
I set the thing up where it would fit right by the front patio where I could have the illusion of being displayed, but the security of knowing no one could see me. I fastened my leg irons to the back bolts, and elected just to go with the friction saddle, not any penetrating vibrators
I crouched naked on the saddle, feeling the cold iron of my cuffs and treasuring the helplessness I felt. I turned the vibrator on. I got as far as four before I realized it was more intense than anything I had experienced, and it went to ten.
I started playing with the settings, it was on straight buzz now, but you could set it for cycles, and I tried that. I screamed as it started to cycle, buzz BUZZ buzz buzz BUZZ. I dropped the remote and grabbed onto the saddle with both hands. This was amazing. I lost focus for god only knows how long as the saddle changed my world view on the rise of the machine.
I looked out as I heard a sound on my patio, and saw Vihan the caretaker in some sort of platform being lowered down from the roof cleaning the gutter downpipes between the units. I looked into his dirty brown face in helpless ecstasy as I rode my saddle buck naked and in leg irons, him staring at me from the side, seeing me desperately rubbing myself against the riding vibrator, leg irons shackling me to the back rings and nipple clamps running to forward chains and tie downs.
He pulled out his cock, it was bigger than the attachments, and began stroking off. Stepping right to the window, he started mouthing the word WHORE and stroking his cock at me. I was cumming pretty much nonstop. I looked at him in helpless arousal, too out of my mind with lust to process his presence, but too turned on by being this helpless in front of that fat misogynist Hindu asshole. He came with a grunt, and sprayed my window with his cum. I collapsed over the Motorbunny in the strongest orgasm yet.
Not looking up, I dragged the remote to my by the cord, and shut it off. I took a good five minutes before I could stop my hands shaking enough to uncuff my legs. I can't believe that Vihan, the manager, saw me like that.
I felt an ache in my pussy and nipples that I wasn't sure was from the abuse I had given them. I remember Vihan calling me WHORE and that fat brown cock shooting blast after blast on the window.
Having gotten dressed, I decided I had to wipe the cum off her window and put the whole experience behind her. Windex in hand, rubber gloves on, and paper towels beside me, I stared at the cum. Slowly, I found herself leaning forward, and licking the cum. Shutting my eyes, dreaming about how his face had been so filled with lust, and contempt. I moaned, licking the dried cum, then pressing my face against the glass, cursing myself for letting her long drought get to me.
With a grimace, I wiped away the evidence of his cum, and her tongue marks. I would give myself some really intense sessions with the vibrator to get Vihan out of her system, and take care of the long pent up frustration I was clearly hampered by.
"I tell you Arjun, Vihay, the cop bitch cuffed herself to a vibrator the size of a lawnmower and was riding it. She had nipple clamps on those big white fucking tits, chains hanging off them, and she was screaming hear head off, cumming like a whore while I jacked off pointed right at her face!"
Vihan's two brothers were drinking it in, getting hard and half fingering their own cocks thinking about that hot stuck up blonde cop with the tight little body that was always flaunting herself in the exercise room. They knew she just needed a little dicking down to be a proper whore. Looks like she was using a machine to do a number on herself.
"Bullshit dad." Vihan's grown son Sammath said, not looking up from his phone game.
"Pictures or it didn't happen." He concluded.
Vihan swore, glaring at his son "I had my cock not my phone in my hand, showing that little cop cunt what she needs."
"Uh huh." Sammath nodded, unimpressed. "She is like the chief spokes cop for like the entire region, does all the announcements on joint task forces, every mayor inside the province lines up to get his picture taken with her. You get a bitch like that compromised on your phone, and you basically own her."
Suddenly Arjun and Vihay are punching their brother in the back and arms, yelling at him. Berating him now for letting the sweet forbidden model quality blonde pussy slip away!
Vihan brushed them off. "ENOUGH!" He chuckled, pushing his brothers aside, and ruffling his son's untidy mop of hair. "Next time, we start with the phone, then she will be on our cocks as much as we want." He laughed. "Cunt like that, there will always be a next time."
Several days later.
I had been very stressed, worrying about facing my property manager in the hallway, worried about the pending transfer of police contract in Surrey, which was turning into the sort of political quagmire that made interagency cooperation almost impossible. She was relying on personal charm and favours to make what should have been normal interagency requests happen, because the official channels were unofficially closed until the situation settled.
I had the weekend off for once. My blood pressure was through the roof, and I had not even been able to relax on the Stairmaster or bike because I was listening to recorded briefings on my earbuds while I worked out. I didn't need a session on the bike, I needed a session on the Motorbunny.
A hot rush exploded from my core to make my skin turn pins and needles, my face flush and my breathing start panting. I really needed to recreate that feeling of helplessness, of slutty helplessness that I experienced riding the Motorbunny when that fat Hindu pig Vihan wound up outside my window to catch me.
No. This time she would be smart. This time she would close her blinds, close drapes behind the blinds, lock her doors, and create her helplessness safely. She would use the leg irons, but this time the leg and hand irons with the belly chain. That trapped her hands at her side, and every tug against them would grind her pussy harder, as the chain ran through the saddle ring bolts before reaching the ankle cuffs.
Yes, with the keys in one hand, the remote in the other, she could feel utterly helpless and slutty without fear of anyone discovering it. Then when she was done, just uncuff and slide it into the closet, no one the wiser.
God, I should have done that last time.
Coming home, I plugged my phone into the house system to recharge.
"Alexa, link to phone." I called, linking my phone to the house computer controls. One day she would get around to installing the software on her phone and the house system for her Motorbunny, but right now the heavy control unit that plugged into the base was all she had.
"Alexa, play slut music." I had music for all occasions. Bitch music, slut music, saint music, kill me now music. One list for every occasion. For private vibrator time, there was slut music.
Lighting candles around the room, I let the music flow through me as I settled the mirrors around the front room I usually used for yoga. Mirrors that were to check my posture would not be like my own private porn as I could watch myself get off.
