WPC Paris gives the criminal a hard time.

I love wearing my new policewoman’s uniform and got to wear it in earnest last week. A slave  (new one) wanted to be overpowered, tormented and abused by a woman in blue so I was happy to oblige. I wore my tight little skirt with a crisp white, figure-hugging shirt, tie, police cap, badge and of course, a cruel set of real metal handcuffs dangling from my belt. A pair of sheer black stockings and heels completed the picture of WPC dominance.

My slave arrived shaking with fear or anticipation – maybe a bit of both. Anyway, he began badly – by apologising for being late. I coolly looked my overpowering best and ordered him into the police cells. He couldn’t take his eyes off those cuffs hanging from my slender waist.  I ordered him to stand while I sat down teasingly crossing my legs to show a glimpse of stocking top. I quietly but firmly ordered hm to undress.  He did so but left his boxers on.  I stood up and stared into his eyes – got closer and closer and when we were almost nose to nose, whispered in a cold, icy way, ‘Have you got something  to hide, worm?’ He gulped and shook his head. “No officer, nothing.”

I then barked out an order at top voice: ‘Take off those fucking shorts and do it now!’ He whimpered in fear and did as he was told. Then I ordered him to stand with his legs apart while I conducted a police check. I put on my rubber gloves and  gave his balls, cock and then arsehole a good inspection. 

I then ordered him on his knees and as he did so, grabbed one his arms round to his back and clicked on the cuffs. I roughly yanked the other arm round and locked his arms together. In a typically police brutal way,  I forced the cuffed prisoner on to his back and  promptly sat on his stomach. ‘Got you now you little  pathetic runt,’ I barked. ‘You are my prisoner and I can do exactly what I want to you.’ All he could do is bleat, ‘Please officer, I am innocent, do not hut me.’ That made me laugh and I slapped him round the chops. Then I put my mouth close to his – was I going to kiss him? That miserable law breaker? No, I was going to cover his face in my spit. And I did.

By now my prisoner was shaking like a jelly. I told him to confess to the crime: any crime. He was reluctant so I had to set about him with my truncheon. I beat him on the nipples and of  course gave his cock a good seeing to. After he screamed for me to stop (and used the safe word),  I decided to reward him by uncuffing his arms, and letting him worship my stockings, feet and arse. He made a good arse sniffer for a miserable criminal. But justice is all about being fair and balanced.  After his reward, I ordered hm to get dressed but as he did so, I had a change of heart. Had he  told me everything? Surely not. In a rage, I took him across my tight skirt and gave his arse a fierce spanking. He certainly felt the long arm, and strong hand, of the law.

 

 

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