Mom and the Police Officer Pt. 02

----Author's note----

This story is heavily influenced by the works of George VI and others. If you enjoy this, I encourage you to go on and read their stories. The writing below includes themes such as: forced exhibitionism, abuse of authority, reluctance, embarrassment, mild incest, strip searching, etc. These themes, placed in a realistic setting with developed characters, are becoming more and more rare and it is my hope that this work will inspire others to follow and create their own content, be it written or recorded.

All characters are 18 or older.

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Ch.1

Parker

Life was normal. Dad returned from his business trip and the incident between mom and the police officer was never mentioned. Oddly enough, Carl and I didn't talk much about it either. The school was abuzz the next day as the rumors flew. And then that talk stopped too. It was as if everyone felt the ordeal to be a bit too real, maybe a bit too tragic, to discuss it openly.

Mom was clearly shaken up. She remained that way for about a week. Dad noticed but mom shrugged it off as an "odd mood." It wasn't like there was really any behavior change in her. She just remained more subdued than normal. Her outfits changed too.

She used to wear skirts and blouses to work. Now she wore pants and turtle-neck sweaters. Even when her cheerful demeanor returned a couple weeks later and everything was normal, her work attire remained more conservative than ever.

None of this stopped me from jacking off like a fiend -- replays of her strip search ran in my head incessantly. I'm sure Carl was the same. When he came over to hang out, and mom would be in the kitchen, I could tell his eyes were unfolding every fabric off her body. And he didn't have to imagine what was underneath.

It was an early Friday morning, maybe about a month after the incident, when I received an anonymous email. Mom was in the kitchen, cleaning up Dad's breakfast. I was at our table, polishing off a bagel and casually browsing some porn sites with my laptop turned away so that mom couldn't see what I was up to. Dad had gone upstairs to dress for work before taking me to school.

The email didn't have a subject line. The message said, "You'll enjoy this.". Attached was a video file. I opened it.

My screen showed an empty room with a table and chair in the center. The footage was from some security camera positioned at one of the corners. A police officer and a woman entered the room. I immediately recognized them as Bill and my mom. They looked like they were talking, but the video didn't have any audio. The officer motioned to mom to stand in the center of the room. His eyes glanced over to the camera and he winked.

"Parker! Hello!" interrupted mom. I quickly closed my laptop.

"What?" I responded back.

"What do you mean what? What are you doing over there? Clean up after yourself and get ready for school. Your father's been yelling for you for the last minute."

"Oh, sorry, must have zoned out..."

The video would have to wait. I knew it was it was anyway. Those police officers must have sent it. "Why would they send it," was all I could think about as dad drove me to school. "Why would they send it?"

Bill

Power is fickle. It requires constant attention. It wasn't three days before I pulled Melissa over again, this time on my own. You see, you can't let these women accept their situation. Acceptance leads to rational thought and rational thought leads to fighting back. The key is to keep them emotional - never certain of their situation -- never knowing what you might do.

She was driving home from school when I fired up my sirens. For a second, I thought she wasn't going to pull over and I'll admit I was nervous about how this was going to work out. But she did pull over.

As I walked up to her car, her window was already down, and she was a trembling wreck. She was wearing this opaque dark blue turtle neck sweater, sunglasses, and black pants. Her hands were shaking on the steering wheel. She didn't even turn to me.

"License and registration, please," I said politely.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"License and registration," I repeated again.

She fumbled through her glovebox and I became impatient so I interrupted her.

"Why don't we just settle this at my office," I said.

"Settle what?" she asked.

"The drugs your son is bringing to school."

"What drugs? Parker doesn't do drugs," she said with marked confusion.

"As far as I can see, he does. Look, why don't we settle this at my office." She was about to say something, but stopped herself.

"And if I don't go with you?" she said with a sigh.

"You want to go with me."

I could see the gears working in her head. There really was only one choice she had.

"Okay," she whispered.

At the station now, the two of us standing in the very same security room where I took my share of her not a few days ago. Her arms were wrapped around her chest as if they were going to protect her. I was leaning against one of the walls, taking her in.

"Well, why am I here?" she asked.

"Get on your knees," I said calmly.

"No, now tell me why I'm here," she asked again. She was too confident. I didn't like it.

"Melissa, if you say no to me again I'm going to call in some fellow officers to search your house right now. In your son's bedroom, hidden in his pillowcase, they will find ecstasy and heroin. Now get on your knees."

She hesitated and then sunk to her knees. I approached her slowly, unbuckling my pants along the way. My dick was flaccid as I brought it to her face. She recoiled.

"Get it hard," I told her. She took a moment before wrapping her lips around my cock. Her head bobbed slowly up and down, up and down. She kept her hands behind her back, like she didn't want to touch me. I didn't mind, her mouth was better anyway.

"Good, that feels good, Melissa," I said with a smile.

My cock was getting hard now. Her mouth was engulfing the head, but she really wasn't putting in much effort. I decided to show her how it was done so I wrapped her hair up around my hand and pulled her head back. Precum and spit dripped from her lips.

"Let go of me, I'm doing what you want aren't I?" she said. She was still too confident and I didn't like it.

"This isn't like last time. This time you have to put in some fucking effort. Now suck my cock like you want it," I said with force as I grabbed her head and shoved my dick down her throat. She gagged as she took me in all the way to the base. Her hands pushed away against my thighs but I didn't budge. I pulled her head back and she gasped for air.

"That's better," I said, letting go of her. She took me in again and this time really in. Saliva drooled from her mouth onto the floor. My cock was a soaking hot mess. Her eyes were watering as all kinds of unpleasant noises emitted from her throat. She was having a tough time at it, but her speed was consistent.

I hunched over and groped her tits over her sweater. She was wearing a heavily padded bra but her tits still hung well and I could feel their suppleness even through the excessive fabric. She was getting good at sucking dick now, so I stopped her before I came.

"Stand up and bend over that table," I said as she took big gulps of air.

This time she didn't complain. She just wiped her face with the arm of her sweater, her head hanging down, and bent over the table.

"No, not like you're at the doctor's office. Bend over like you want this," I told her. She sighed and spread her legs a bit, arched her back, and pushed her ass out towards me.

"Better," I said, patting her lower back. She flinched. I grabbed the hem of her pants and in one movement pulled them down along with her white cotton panties. Her ass was a pale white and looked inviting. I slapped it. She grunted.

I brought my hands to her face, and brushed my fingers against her trembling lips. She opened her mouth gently, knowing what I wanted.

"Suck my fingers," I said. Her tongue wrapped around them. I pulled them out and brought them to her pussy. Her saliva made it easy for me to put one, then two into her. She gasped. I worked my fingers in and out, teasing her clit when I felt like it. Her legs started to shake and I knew she was ready.

In one movement, I shoved my cock into her. A moan escaped her lips. I pounded her into that table. Her ass jiggled on every thrust. She was sopping wet now and I knew she hated herself for it. A whimper followed every push and pull.

Her knuckles where white as she tried to hold onto the shaking table. I brought my hands beneath her sweater and lifted it up over her bra. I pulled the cups away from her tits, letting them hang freely. They bounced back and forth as I plowed her. My torso hugged against her arched back. My hands cupped her breasts, pinching her hardening nipples between my fingers. I was going to cum soon.

With one final jerk, I finished and rested on top of her. She was silent except for her staged breathing which slowly subdued back to normal. My cock became soft and I let it slither out of her sopping wet snatch.

She got dressed without saying a word. I watched her with a smirk, my dick still hanging out between the zipper. The room reeked of her sex.

As she was about to leave the door, I interrupted her.

"I'll see you tomorrow here, same time."

"What?" she mumbled out.

"I said, I'll see you here tomorrow, same time as today."

"But you said..." she mumbled again.

"I didn't say anything."

"And if I don'... you will..."

"Yes," I said.

She nodded her head and walked out. I slapped her ass as she exited the door.

Ch.2

Bill

The next day, I waited for her in our lobby. At 4:45pm, she walked through our doors and I smiled at her. Her eyes glared at me with true hatred. Good. I gestured her to the well-known security room and followed her through the door.

There isn't much to say about what we did in there that wasn't already said. Every day she wore the same neck-to-toe covered clothing and every day I stripped them off her. These days turned into weeks. We hardly spoke to each other. I could tell she was becoming used to her ordeal, which, I'll have you know, is not a good thing. As soon as she accepts her situation, she'll start to think of ways to get out of it.

I thought of inviting Paul to join me. I know he's been bugging me to have a piece of Melissa again, but that would have to wait. Sometimes, you need to surprise a woman. Breaking them into complete submission is a long ladder with unevenly spaced rungs.

The next step came to me on a Friday morning. Since she was getting used to my presence, I had to get her vulnerable outside of our little room. This would first involve her clothing.

I acquired her son's email off the high-school directory. It was then as simple as contacting him with a message he couldn't ignore. Later that afternoon, I sent him another message.

As for Melissa, I gave her a reward, a carrot if you will, before the whip.

I texted her, "Melissa, take the afternoon off."

She didn't respond so I texted her again, "Ignore me, and I'll expect you at 4:45pm. Now if I give you something, you say Thank You."

She quickly texted back, "Thank You. I'm sorry I didn't get back to you quicker. I'm in class right now."

"Good. I'm tired of your wardrobe. Tomorrow you will go clothes shopping at the McHenry mall. Do you know the place?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Good. Take your son with you and try on the clothes in front of him. I don't care what you get, just something different. No more turtlenecks, got it? And anything your son likes on you, you buy and wear. Say yes sir."

"Yes sir"

"Good girl. And Melissa, don't ever delay in respond to me again. Your phone is always on you, and I am always there to tell you what to do. Understand?"

"Yes sir"

Perfect. She probably thought this was some pseudo power game: all that "yes sure" bullshit. "Just say, 'yes sir,' and he'll be satisfied" is what she's thinking. Easy enough to get a girl to do that -- but it's not sufficient. Her commitment must be real.

I'm sure the request about her son confused her, but I doubt she had any idea of where this was going. Like I said, you have to keep these women on edge. Power requires constant attention.

Parker

It was an agonizingly long school day before I could open the email again. During mom's class, all those memories of her came flooding back. She was teaching us about... Actually, I forgot what she was teaching us about.

But she was teaching and standing by the white board and as she was standing there with her back facing us, all I could see was her being bent over that table -- the overhead light diffusing off her pale white ass.

I didn't mention the email to anyone, not even Carl. When I did arrive home, I was vibrating with nerves. My heart pounded out of my chest. And then I opened the email and watched it. I watched the video in its entirety.

You know, I must have been too excited because, thinking back now, I didn't even get hard. My boxers were wet with precum, but I was just too damn enthralled with what I was seeing to bother jacking off. There she was, with her legs spread open, the officer working his hands up into her snatch and asshole. And there she was, on her knees, sucking his cock with evident disgust. And then again, spread out on the table as both officers took her.

Mom had been working late at school these days, something about parent teacher meetings she told me, and so I didn't expect her home till later: plenty of time to watch and rewatch that video. I was a bit surprised when I heard her car pull in early, but by this hour I was on my 3^rd or 4^th viewing. As the front door opened, I got another email.

It read, "Respond if you like what you see."

Of course, this email wasn't really anonymous despite the cryptic address. It could only be one of those police officers, this I knew. What I didn't know was where this was going. But I took the chance to respond -- I wasn't doing anything illegal here, right? I wrote back, "yes."

A prompt response followed: "Good. Don't ask questions, you don't want to become more involved than necessary. Tomorrow your mom will ask you if you'd like to go clothes shopping with her. Say yes. Anything you like, your mom will buy and wear as part of her regular wardrobe. Anything."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything at all. At the bottom of the email was a phone number with small note to text this number if mom doesn't follow her instructions. Was this serious? I had no idea.

At first, I was nervous about the whole situation. What was this guy's angle? Why am I becoming involved? How does he know mom would want to take my shopping tomorrow? And why would mom buy anything I wanted her to? Was he blackmailing her?

There was way too much to think about so I took the obvious, the easy, route and did as the police officer suggested. I pushed away all questions and decided that the next day, if mom did ask me to take her shopping, I would say yes. Nothing wrong with that.

Mom called for me from downstairs. She had started fixing dinner for when dad came home in an hour or so.

"Want a snack? Dad texted me that he's working late so dinner won't be for another couple hours." she asked me.

"I can wait," I said.

She busied herself working around the kitchen. You know, she even seemed a bit like her old self, bustling around, making small conversation. I sat down at the kitchen table and gave her the pleasure of my poor small talk. Things seemed quite normal.

Later that evening, I watched her cavity search again before falling asleep. The next morning was quiet. I had completely forgotten about the emails until mom knocked on my door.

"Can I come in," she asked politely.

"Sure," I replied. My heart was beating hard as I recalled what the officer told me.

"I'm going to out to run some errands. Would you like to come with me?"

"What errands," I asked.

"Oh just a few small things and maybe some clothes shopping at the mall."

"Sure!" I almost screamed it out.

Mom looked at me quizzically - I doubt she expected me to say yes - before replying, "Great -- get ready then and we'll head out."

At the mall, mom went right to the old woman's department of Macy's. The racks where lined with the same turtle neck sweaters and loose black pants she was wearing at that very moment. I was bored out of my mind as mom took her time looking through every single sweater on display. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

It was almost a half-hearted accident when I complained to her: "Can we go to another store, I'm going crazy in here." She hesitated for a split second, then said, "Sure. Where would you like to go?"

I really had no idea how to answer that, so I just pointed at one of the stores outside the glass doors into the main corridor of the mall. We walked out of Macy's and into Forever 21.

This was a very different store. The mannequins wore short denim skirts. The racks were lined with colorful dresses, see through knit sweaters, and button up blouses. There were high heels on the shelves and sparkling jewelry hanging on display.

Mom walked around slowly, evidently a bit out of her element. I casually grabbed a black flared skirt and thought to myself "why not?" so I showed it to mom and asked, "What about this?"

She laughed, you know she has a charming laugh, and said, "Maybe for someone half my age!"

I chuckled with her and we walked on. I guess this really was a pipe dream anyway. Maybe ten minutes later, when mom was busy browsing the jewelry section, my phone buzzed. It was a text and it read, "Are you at the mall?"

"Who is this?" I replied.

"You know who this is. Are you at the mall?"

Figuring I'd go along with it, I wrote "Yes."

"Is Melissa doing what I said she would?"

"Not really"

"Try again in a couple minutes."

I didn't respond to that. Was there someone watching us? I shrugged off a shiver and joined mom. Not one minute later and her phone chimed. When she looked at it, her eyes widened and she spun around, her eyes darting every which way.

"What's wrong," I asked her -- trying my best to pretend I no idea of what was going on.

"Oh, oh nothing," she said, "just thought I heard someone call my name."

"Let's try another store," I suggested. I admit I felt a bit bad for her now that I was seeing how nervous she was becoming.

As we started to walk out, I spotted that same black flared skirt. I grabbed it on impulse and asked once more, "Are you sure you don't want to try this on?"

She looked down at what I was holding, paused, then looked back to me. I did my best to act bored, like I didn't care. Then, she said the magical words, she said, "Okay, I'll see how it fits."

Let me tell you, it fit her well. When she walked out of the dressing room, she looked ten years younger. The skirt flared around her white upper thighs. It wasn't sultry or offensive, but it sure wasn't something I would expect to see my mom in.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked me.

"It looks great on you!" I blurted out.

"You don't think it's a bit much?"

"Not at all, you should just wear it out. It's a nice day outside anyway."

"I don't know..." she mumbled nervously. I just shrugged and started walking out of the store like I couldn't care less. A couple minutes later and she met me outside. She was wearing the skirt. I smiled but stayed quiet.

"How about some new shoes?" she asked, pointing across the hallway.

"Sure," I said.

I was a step behind her, watching the skirt bounce with each step, as we walked into the shoe store.