Training Officer, Part I

A BDSM Story by Harley Grant
© 2004 Harley Grant. Do not use without permission.

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Chapter 5: Rule of Law

She didn’t believe I wanted to be put in this device.  “Maybe you think this won’t be a punishment, but it is.”

“It is a dream of mine to be in one of these.”

“We’ll soon see if it is a dream or a nightmare.”

She had one of the new ones.  This was a metal rod.  At the bottom there was a cross piece.  Metal brackets shaped like horseshoes were fit over each ankle from the bottom and the horseshoes slipped on the cross piece, one from each side.  This secured my ankles at the bottom of the metal rod.  In the middle were similar brackets that secured my wrists to the middle of the rod.  And the top of the rod had a collar that fit around my neck.  All was securely padlocked.

With this device on, I had to sit hunched up, neck pulled forward, legs bent.  An older form of the device was used in the middle ages to torture prisoners.  After a while in the position, you get stiff, the desire to pull your head back grows on you.

I had five demerits to work off at eight per hour.  I raised my eyes to my captor.  She stood there, hands on hips. 

“Generally, this corrects bad behavior, very quickly.”

“I feel that for good behavior, I should be put in here as a reward.”

I bent my head as far forward as I could and tried to kiss the metal.

She snorted and walked over the far side of the dungeon.  I had been very turned on by any picture of this device that I could find, and now I was in one!  This had been a great weekend.

While I was getting stiff as the time went by, frankly I was soaring on the rush from being in this very traditional torture device.  I was almost sorry when she came and released me.

As soon as I was free, I crawled forward on all fours and kissed her heavy work shoes.  “This has been wonderful.  You have fulfilled a dream for me.”

“And you have for me.  But we are not done yet.  Back to your cell.”

I crawled in and without any bondage, I was allowed to curl up and sleep.  At 6am she brought breakfast and I was hogtied again for that.  After breakfast, she left me in the cell and went upstairs without explanation.

I had to experience the time passing slowly as it does for prisoners.  Locked in the cell, nothing to do, no schedule, I came soon to wish for something, more torture even.  I dozed, I stretched, I even did a little exercising as best I could.

So, when she eventually did come back downstairs, I looked at her expectantly, hopefully.  She unlocked the cell door and motioned me out.  Without any bondage, I walked, naked into the center of the open area.  She had me stand on the middle of a padded mat.

“You have done well, and this has earned you the right to participate in some advanced training exercises.  If you do not obey the rules, you can earn demerits very quickly.  In this exercise, I am practicing taking disobedient suspects into custody.  We have to acquire skills doing that when they resist arrest.  But it is a training exercise, and actions have to be measured.”

“I will come to you to cuff you.  You are to resist, at first only in mild ways, I will indicate when you are to increase your efforts.  For now, simply try to use your arms to avoid the cuffs.”

With that, she whipped out her cuffs and came at me.  I just waved my arms.  She quickly grabbed a wrist, and bent it so I couldn’t move it.  I was cuffed quickly. 

“OK, again.  Vary your response, but maintain the same intensity.”  She released me.

This time when she came for me, I moved a step to the right.  Again, she grabbed a wrist, but she also twisted it behind my back quickly and I had to stop moving or strain my arm.

We did this over and over.  It became a fun game to see if I could do something different.  I tried fainting to one side, I tried just holding my arms up, nothing really stopped her.

After a few of these, she told me to resist a bit more forcefully.  I did, pushing back on her.  She stepped forward, hooked my ankle and put me on the ground.  We did this a few more times, with me usually ending up on the ground with her above me.

Again, she had me up my resistance.  She now added choke holds, arm bars and other techniques and always quickly put me on the ground and cuffed me easily.  She was beginning to pant a bit and I was sweaty.

After a few more of this, she left me cuffed, pulled me over to that cage that I had been in yesterday and cuffed my hands to it.  She moved to her office chair, and dropped her pants.  As before she began to masturbate, grabbing her big, black, metal flashlight to rub against her clit.  She put on a good show until she climaxed with a shriek.

“Arresting people who are resisting always gets me hot.”

I looked at her and said solemnly, “Thank you for letting me assist in your training.”

She was still panting, but coming down.  As before she felt a little embarrassed and quickly made herself presentable.  She was going to move on, but I wanted to keep her in this intimate connection with me a little longer.

“How would you evaluate that training?” I asked, “did we go to the full intensity.”

“Almost, most of what we do in class is working very slowly, developing form and technique.  We don’t go full force.  This allowed me to get closer to that.  You of course, were not resisting as hard as you could.”

“True, but I doubt I’d be able to escape you.”

“Especially not naked.”  She smiled at me.  “Oh, I have lunch.”  She got up and opened a paper bag. 

She came down and sat beside me on the floor.  Slowly, bite by bite she fed me lunch.  It was intimate and personal and very erotic.  Each time she put a bite of the sandwich in my mouth our eyes met.  It must have been what a loved pet feels for its master.

“May I be frank?”

“Of course,” I replied. “This is a wonderful thing you have created for the two of us.”

“What I would like to discuss is technically a breach of discipline.”

I nodded, taking this seriously, as I knew she did.  “You should go ahead.  While we have observed the rules of a prison, of course, there is an additional erotic dimension.  Yet, I think we have both behaved properly.”

“I agree,” she said, hesitating for a minute.  I smiled at her.

She took a breath and plunged ahead.  “I find that very much wish that you would serve me orally.”  I think she got a little red when she said this.

“But you are concerned that this would be seen as inviting an intimacy that might undermine the dynamic of the prison scene we are doing.”

“Yes.”

“Well, of course, in badly run prisons, the guards abuse prisoners, but that is a direction we don’t want to go.”  She nodded.

“Of course, it is very subservient for a man to orally serve a woman in this way.  You would direct me where and when to go. I would be naked, at a lower level than you.  And I should probably be cuffed or secured in some way.  That also keeps it in the rule of discipline.”

“But is it enough?  We cannot have this lead to a breach of discipline.”

“I could be blindfolded.”

“True.  But I find I would like to see your eyes looking at me from down there.”

I nodded.  This was a difficult problem.  I was so ready to lick this girl to a screaming orgasm, but it could not lead to a breakdown of the rules, or she would hate me and herself.

“It could earn demerits for me – no, wait, that would mean I had done something wrong and so would you.  No, I think this has to be part of the total process by which a prisoner is made to obey the guards without question.  You would order me to do it, I would comply.  Then, you could also, if I may suggest this, order me to masturbate on the floor in front of you.  This is also a little exercise of obedience, because it is not what I want to.”  And I suggested one additional feature of all this, and she readily agreed.

My hands still cuffed, she ordered me over to the chair and I worked myself under her desk.  She dropped her panties, scooted the chair forward and I proceeded to lick her while she worked on her paperwork – for that was an erotic charge for her.  Periodically she leaned back to look down at me.

In a short time she came again, her legs stiffening.   She reached down, pulled me out by the hair from under the desk, deposited me on the floor and ordered me to masturbate while she sat on my back and held me in a light choke hold.  I came quickly.

She got me up, put me under the shower and blasted me off with the water.  Then it was back in the cell.

But soon she was coming back.  She had restored her appearance and her uniform was perfect.

“It is almost two o’clock.  The time of your release.”

I stood in the cell, looking directly at her.

“I find that I do not want to let you go.  I have found all of this to be both professionally and sexually stimulating.  I would like to keep you.”

I said nothing.  I don’t think I even breathed. 

“I could easily do that, for a few hours or longer.”

I said nothing.

“Would you like me to do that?”

“You would be breaking your promise.”

“But, of course, police officers are allowed to lie to suspects to obtain a confession.”

“You would be breaking your promise.”  Would she really do that, break her word?  If she did, well, then we had some very big problems.

“You have enjoyed this, you have had many good experiences, you would like to do this more.”

She turned away from the cell and said over her shoulder, “Perhaps another hour.”

“So, your word as a police officer is worthless.”

“But you WANT this!” she had turned and her face was twisted with anguish.

“What happens if you break your word?”

She stepped close to the cell.  “You could release me from that promise.”

I had to be silent.

“Damn,” she cried, and jerked forward and opened the cell.

“Go, your clothes are on the far side of the basement.”

I walked passed her and dressed.  She clearly wanted to say more.  I couldn’t, just yet.  We went upstairs into the living room and I approached the door.  I turned to her.

“Don’t you want this? Didn’t you find this exciting and wonderful?  You wanted to be my prisoner?”  She was nearly out of control.

“Yes, to all of those,” I said.

“So why didn’t you release me from my promise?”

Gently, I said, “I think you know the reason.”

“Because you don’t want to this any more?”

“No, because I do want to do this again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I had to know if you can be trusted, had to make the choice stark for you.  And you had to know that you could keep your word.  How can we take the next step if we both don’t know that you can be trusted?”

She let out her breath. “So we could do this, maybe next week…”

I held up my hand, but smiled to lower the insult.

“Yes, but for now, we must separate, must come back to earth, must let a little time go by.  But this was very special and it is only the end of the beginning.”

She put her head down. “You are right.”  She knew it and now she had made her decision.  “I can be trusted.  I will be trustworthy.”  She nodded to herself.

“So,” she said briskly, “we will do this.  You call me when you wish to do this again.  I will not bring it up until you do.  We can talk as neighbors and I will never do or suggest or imply anything at all about this.  It will be up to you and you alone to say when we do our second time of prison.”

“I knew I had a good feeling about you,” I said.  “You will make the best kind of police officer.”  And then I nodded goodbye and walked out the door without saying anything about when we would do this again.  Perhaps she would know how very hard that was for me.

End of Part I

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