The Law is a Mistress

"Corset," she ordered.

Chris normally needed a hand undoing her uniform issue corset, but she was not willing to say that and put her captors to any inconvenience that may annoy them.

She pulled the emergency tabs on the sides to loosen it off enough to unclip in the front. It would need resewing later, if she survived this.

"Boots."

Making each movement slow and deliberate, she knelt, unzipped and then removed each one.

The woman waited for her to stand up before saying "Catsuit."

When she had stripped it off, the woman shook her head, disappointed. "You wear underwear under that? Shame. Get it off."

Chris peeled her sports bra over her head.

"All of it," the woman said, slightly chiding.

Woodenly, Chris pushed her panties down her legs and straightened up, standing expressionlessly at attention.

"Now look here!" the woman began, speaking for the camera.

"This is what a policewoman looks like out of uniform! Great body, lovely tits and oh, look! Piercings! Fantastic!"

The woman turned back towards her accomplices and the man in black threw her a bundle which she caught deftly, unrolling it to reveal a leash, collar and chunky handle that looked a little like a police issue set.

But the handle clearly didn't control just a release mechanism.

When the woman, still standing just out of hand or foot reach, tossed her the collar and told her to put it on, Chris could see electrodes around the inside, and willed herself into a submissive mindset that could absorb pain.

When she closed it around her neck, it closed with an easy but irrevocable click and the handle beeped softly.

"I imagine a highly trained observer like you has worked out what this little collar does, but let's show the viewers shall we?"

The shock was easily as great as any police last-chance riot weapon and Chris screamed with the pain, her whole body contorting before she dropped to the ground, landing awkwardly on one knee.

It took her a few seconds to recover, but the woman didn't give her the opportunity, tugging on the leash and saying "Get moving unless you want another dose, puppy."

Desperately holding onto a submissive mind for her own protection, Chris stumbled after her on hands and knees.

The woman walked off to the side, holding the leash out with one arm level, giving both the camera and the shooter a clear shot.

Even naked, Chris would have been able to handle the woman with no problems, and would have been prepared to take an even bet against either man, but they were taking no chances.

As she scurried forwards on all fours, breasts swinging, the camera tracked her. Probably a transmitter in the collar, she thought muzzily.

The man in black put a gimp mask on, the other man kept hold of the gun.

There were two pieces of bondage equipment in the room. She was lead towards a box frame with a padded rest on a scissor jack sitting on the floor at its centre.

Without warning, the collar delivered another shock, making her scream and jerk violently.

Before the tremors had subsided, the man in black picked her up and threw her into the frame like a rag doll.

Her hands were shackled before her head had stopped spinning. Her feet were pulled wide apart and shackled down to the bottom corners almost as fast.

In less than a minute she was restrained, helpless and exposed.

Then a cane slashed against the sole of one foot, sending searing pain right through her. She screamed again, but did not have chance to draw breath before a strike landed on her other foot.

As the pain cleared, she heard the woman giggle.

She was standing at the base of the table, a thin bamboo switch resting on her shoulder.

"Pretty little policewoman screams so nicely," she cooed, before bringing her arm down again.

This time Chris saw it coming before it slashed against her inner thigh. It didn't help.

She had tears in her eyes and didn't see it coming before it struck the same spot on her other thigh.

She was still sobbing when it tapped lightly off her cunt, not actually painful but, coming after the full-force strikes, making her shriek and jerk in her bonds.

The woman knelt by her head as she dragged her senses back under her control and blinked the tears from her eyes.

"I do so love the sounds you're making," the woman said, loud enough for the camera to hear, before gently running the tip of the cane around Chris' closest nipple in a tickling, almost loving gesture, and leaning in until Chris could almost feel breath on her cheek.

"I wonder how long you can keep it up for?" suddenly the cane slashed down onto the sensitive underside of Chris' breast.

That wasn't guite enough to make her scream, too close to her own self-play, so the next blow landed directly on the tip of her nipple and her shriek echoed off the walls.

"I can think of better things to do with those nipples," the woman suddenly declared, the sound barely filtering part the red haze of pain in Chris' head. "But you need to be made ready, first.

"Give me a hand, Martin."

Martin, Chris thought, slightly demented. It sounds too normal to be a screen name.

There was a buzzing of an electric motor, a whirring of gears and the padded rest began to rise underneath her, against the small of her back. It pushed her torso up, taking all her weight and bowing her, stretching her until she was tight, the shackles on her wrists and her ankles positioned at the right height to have her cunt at fucking height as her back was arched painfully, every muscle stretched tight and joints aching.

She felt oil being poured onto her belly, then two sets of hands, neither gentle, began rubbing it in to every inch of available flesh.

Her skin began to tingle, crawling with warmth and more delicious sensations. It was a common erotic message oil, blended with nerve stimulators and sensitisors and with a warning on the bottle against applying to sensitive areas.

They covered her thoroughly, working over all of her torso save her breasts, her buttocks and shoulders, and along her legs and arms, making her gleam for the cameras.

Then the woman returned to her breasts and Martin returned to her groin.

The tingling, prickling sensations all over her skin were already giving her perverse pleasure and making her sexuality wake up. The woman's slow, confident rubbing of her breasts became very hard to ignore and she was gritting her teeth, forcing herself to focus as the slow kneading neared her nipples, when Martin smeared the oil over her clitoris and then forced two fingers each inside her pussy and her arse.

It was like liquid fire. Her entire being was engulfed with searing flame and she opened her mouth and began screaming, barely even noticing when the woman began rubbing and teasing the oil into her nipples.

Martin started fucking her hard with his fingers, pumping in and out of her pussy and her arse at the same time.

The stimulation of the oil was too much for her body to ignore. Combined with the kneading of her breasts and nipples and the rapid fucking of both her holes, an orgasm was bullied from her as she screamed in a long, rising wail.

When he pulled out and she stepped back, Chris was left shaken and still burning.

They tied thin cord around each nipple under the uniform studs, so the studs held the knot on. The cords were passed over the top bars of the box frame and Martin easily lifted up two bowling balls for the woman to tie on.

Chris clenched her teeth. It was normal play, she knew, but she was a dominatrix with little experience of sub play and her nipples were not conditioned as a regular slaves' were. When they eased the pressure on and left the balls hanging, the stretch and the pull on her flesh made a sharp, unavoidable and searing background of pain to all other sensations.

Then Martin picked up a cattle prod and casually touched it to the sole of her left foot.

Her scream went up another octave.

The cattle prod tapped lightly against her inner thigh, her other foot, the underside of one breast, her other thigh, the top of her other breast, her belly, one distended nipple and finally her exposed cunt.

She had been in a world of pain, the silent screaming from her nipples flaying her brain and robbing her of self control, then the violent shocks of the prod had reduced her to so much flesh, awash with adrenaline and fear hormones, and when the shock stabbed through her clitoris and her cunt she, impossibly, came.

The pain stopped and she was left disorientated, sobbing and burning all over.

"Well that was easy," the woman's voice said, remotely. "Try flogging her now, see what that does."

After the cattle prod, a mere flogger would have been a relief. But the man brought it down hard on her cunt.

It barely rung a gasp from her. He brought it down hard again, and again, and again, until she was well past her point of tolerance and was crouching inside her own head, whimpering.

She barely heard when the woman finally said "Good," approvingly. "The poor thing seems to be thirsty. Why don't you give her a drink."

It had almost filtered through Chris' reeling mind what she meant when the man grabbed her hair and lifted her head up.

She had enough presence of mind to open her mouth wide before he made her, and he pushed into her throat without ceremony.

He had clearly been chosen for more than just his rigging skills. Her jaw was forced to open almost painfully wide, and even with her experience she was almost gagging as he shoved himself into her throat and out again.

He was soon wet and slick, which made it a little easier past her lips.

Then she felt the woman's tongue on her pussy lips, and the turmoil of pain, fear, shock, disorientation and abuse became arousal again.

The things being done to her were only removed by degrees from things she enjoyed and her body traitorously responded to the woman's talented cunnilingus.

Tortured moans of arousal and need were soon being muffled by Martin's cock, which made him laugh and fuck faster.

The woman just kept at Chris' pussy. It wasn't long, helpless and over stimulated, before she shuddered through her third orgasm.

"Filthy fucking slut," the woman said in an amused tone of voice. "Martin, be a good host, give her that drink."

Martin grunted, pulled out and came. An experienced actor, not only could he cum on command but his volume and his ejaculation power had been surgically enhanced. The first stream hit Chris in her still open mouth, slapping her in the back of the throat and making her cough violently. The second stream hit her chin, her neck and the upper slopes of her beasts.

He aimed lower, covering her nose and her eyes, reflectively closed, then lifted and sent his final stream directly onto her distended right nipple.

Then the woman bit her clitoris and she came again, her moans gurgling through the cum in her mouth.

"Even dirtier slut," the woman said with a touch of malice in her voice. "Get round here, Martin, I want to see if she's any good with that mouth when she actually has to work it."

Through her haze of pain and arousal, Chris felt the woman suddenly at her ear, whispering "I hope you're fit, bitch, we won't have any use for you when you stop cumming."

Chris could claim twelve times under ideal circumstances. Tied and stretched and abused like this, she had idea.

The woman straddled her head, pulled it up into her cunt and said "Lets see you give me one, you filthy fucking whore."

Chris was as bisexual as anyone else, and had subbed for women more often than for men. She opened her mouth wide again and began to lick, smearing Martin's cum over the woman's cunt and inner thighs.

As the woman held her hard up by her ears, promising pain if she didn't support it herself, Chris felt Martin's hands pressing large pads onto her belly and her thighs.

Even in her state, she recognised then even before the TEMS machine was turned on.

They had it turned up high, and the forced contractions of her muscles was painfully violent. She screamed, muffled by flesh, and the woman gasped, said "leave it on that, I like the effect that had."

She kept on licking, practice driving her now, and felt a thick, cold, well-lubricated and metal-smooth smooth shaft pushed inside her.

Her body had been craving penetration since she first came and she clenched around it, an animal thrill making her entire body buzz for a second, a needy moan smothered in the woman's now dripping cunt, before the next shock came and the metal dildo carried it deep inside her, forcing the depths of her to spasm.

She screamed, muffled in flesh, and her pain made the woman cum, squirting onto her face to mix with the man's juices.

The shock after that made her scream again, and then they pushed a Magic Wand against her clitoris.

The sensations assaulted her, depriving her of any sense of time and space, the sudden jolts from the TEMS machine breaking through the relentless pain from her nipples and the relentless, imhuman sensations from her clitoris.

Her next orgasm wasn't coaxed or driven from her, but torn. She came while sobbing with pain.

She barely noticed when they peeled off the pads, pulled the dildo from her without ceremony and then took the weight off her nipples and untied them. As they relaxed, they began to throb with the different but no less excruciating pain of release.

Nobody noticed when the sour-faced man with the gun stiffened for a second and then slowly folded up and collapsed.

But even Chris noticed when Martin crumpled to the floor with the characteristic shudder of police tranquiliser guns.

"What the fu..." the woman's angry, startled exclamation was cut off as she too collapsed.

Then there were paramedics bending over Chris, and a lot of blue-uniformed people in the room.

#

Captain Collerton let the paramedics have her until she asked for him, sitting in the back of an ambulance wrapped in three blankets, skin numb from the anaesthetic they had used to counteract the oil and her entire body aching in different ways and nursing a cup of whatever hot beverage she was allowed with caffeine and alcohol both prohibited by the medics.

"I was fucking stupid," she said flatly when he climbed in through the ambulance doors. "I went too far without requesting backup."

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked calmly.

"Yes."

"Do you need time off?"

"No."

"Do you need time off?"

"Look, Captain, I..."

"Do you need time off?"

It is part of an officer's job to look after the people under their command. He held her for a long time as she cried, her memory replaying over and over the image of her catcher's head ripped apart.