“All in the name of Science”
© Mesmerr
Chapter 9
After following her slight lead in the walk to her police car, Andy waited while she got inside and opened the door for him. Then he slid down inside next to the policewoman and closed the door. She had already belted up her seat belt and was looking at him, frowning.
Andy let his gaze roam around all the other cars parked in the dimly lit car park of the railway station. There were some people here and there, coming or going, mostly leaving. Most gave the police car a cursory glance then looked quickly away and got on with their business.
Andy had no idea where he was going, if anywhere, but at least he would have some privacy, what there was of it, with people coming and going all around the place. He did up his seat belt, wondering where to. Then the policewoman echoed his thoughts.
‘Where to, Sir?’ she asked suspiciously, her hand reaching for the ignition switch.
‘Somewhere quiet and away from the public, for a start,’ Andy said firmly, even though his voice had yet to regain the tone he had used with her earlier in the day. Then he thought of Jemma and the tone he had used with her in their heated debate. The engine of the police car fired into life. Then he added,
‘Do you know what your night training mission is?’ he asked her firmly.
‘No, Sir, to be honest,’ she answered him, gruffly. ‘Only that I had to pick you up at 8:30. I can’t seem to remember why.’
‘Lock and load!’ Andy then said firmly.
The policewoman brought her hand slowly back from the ignition.
‘And the next time you pick me up in any car,’ he said with the aggressive tone he had used with Jemma, ‘have the courtesy for your Commander and training Master, to open my door first! Lock and load!’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she answered, a more accepting tone to her voice.
‘What are you?’ he asked her, testing.
‘I am a Secret Service slave-soldier, Sir,’ the policewoman answered.
‘Who am I?” he tested her further.
‘You are... you are my... my Commander, Sir’ she answered, hesitatingly.
The engine of the police car was still running, but they hadn’t moved an inch, as yet. She was battling inside. Andy could see that.
‘What am I?’ Andy tested her even further.
‘You are my... my Master, Sir,’ she said, resentfully.
‘Who controls you?’ he reached even further into her recall.
‘... You do, Sir,’ she got out, seemingly against her will.
‘Who owns you?’ he stuck it to her now, deeply.
‘Y... You... You own me, Sir,’ she said, almost defiantly.
‘Who will accept any order, no matter whether you agree with it or not?’ Andy then tested her again.
‘I... I will, Sir,’ the policewoman in uniform sitting beside him answered.
‘Who is to be obeyed immediately,’ Andy then asked her, wowndering if that phrase had come back to him from the Internet surfing he had done.
‘You are, Sir,’ she replied, staring straight ahead out the front windscreen of the police car.
‘And who will obey her Master, immediately, without question and without doubt?’ he decided to end with.
‘I... I will, Sir,’ the policewoman said quietly.
‘You don’t want to, do you, slave-soldier?’ he tested her once more.
‘I... err, No, Sir. I don’t.’
‘But you will, won’t you?’ he pushed.
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman said evenly through closed teeth.
‘Take me somewhere quiet where we can start your night training mission,’ he told her firmly, ‘or take your dishonorable dischrage right now!’
The police car immediately rolled, throwing him suddenly back into his seat. Andy got a fright. They were rapidly on their way to God knows where, Andy thought, as she gained speed through the straights and corners of the backstreets of the suburb they were in.
As they sped along, Andy was as hard as a rock between the legs and he knew why. What was exciting him no end was not the power exchange control he now knew fully that he had over the policewoman. It was the admitted fact that she didn’t ‘want’ to be controlled in the first place, but didn’t know why and so would allow it, anyway, because he had somehow gotten into some part of her mind which had accepted that she would let him control her, no matter what he said or did, but would not let her conscious mind remember anything else, except, that she would always obey, like it or not.
Just thinking that thought, alone, for contemplation reasons, Andy found he was even more excited and aroused, sitting in the passenger seat of the police car, seemingly now speeding to its unknown by him destination and sitting next to its slave-soldier policewoman driver.
After only about fifteen minutes, by his reckoning, Andy knew they were soon going to stop. She had driven the police car behind a warehouse in the downtown suburban industrial district. Andy knew it was there and where it was, in relation to where he lived, but he had never been there.
The police car stopped beside a big iron warehouse. It was dark, but not inky black. He could still see her quite clearly. The policewoman turned the ignition off then just stared out the front windscreen.
‘Time to unlock your orders on your first night training mission,’ Andy said, looking directly at the policewoman, now.
‘Yes, Sir,’ she answered.
‘Training,’ Andy said firmly. ‘Your slave-soldier training,’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she responded quickly with.
‘Are you looking forward to your Secret Service slave-soldier extreme front line night training missions to prepare your standard of Master pleasing, up to that of rapid promotion through the slave-soldier ranks?’ He said, feeling his heart hammering, and realising he had read that bit on some website he had visited. Andy hoped like hell he would remember it all.
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman answered evenly.
‘You are expected to put your heart and soul into your training missions, day or night, slave-soldier, or be dismissed with a dishonorable discharge,’ he told her straight. ‘How will you honor your training missions?’
‘I’ll put my heart and soul into them, Sir,’ she snapped back firmly.
‘Whether you like it or not, agree or not, slave-soldier?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she snapped back in obedient style and manner.
‘Then you can start by addressing me in private training missions like this, as, your Master. Lock and load!’
‘Yes, Si... err.. Yes, Master,’ she then snapped back.
Andy’s personal assualt weapon was determined to assault his groin and thigh, from the inside out. He was so aroused and turned on. His mind kept trying to imagine the colour and size and shape of the policewoman’s nipples.
‘Are you allowed to wonder what your training missions will be, slave-soldier?’ he tested her again.
‘No, Si... No, Master.’ she replied, correcting herself.
‘Will you fail your training missions and be dishonorably discharged because you thought about your missions before or while you were carrying them out?’ he asked her threateningly. ‘And couldn’t keep your mind focussed on the mission itself and got everyone killed?’
‘No... Master,’ she answered, a little less snappily.
‘You will be self-disciplined and keep your thoughts wholly focussed on your mission as stated?’
‘Yes, Master,’ she replied, getting it out quickly this time.
‘Without question?’
‘Yes, Master.’
‘Without doubt?’
‘Yes, Master.’
‘No stopping for thoughts, lest you get someone disciplined?’
‘No, Master, no stopping to think.’ she replied.
‘Who will be disciplined if you do, slave-soldier,’ he asked.
‘... I will be, Master,’ she answered.
‘And who will discipline you very, very severely before dishonorably discharging you from the Secret Special Services, if you need it, whenever you need it, wherever you need it, however I decide to discipline you, slave-soldier?’
‘You will, Master,’ the policewoman said slowly, as if seeming to Andy that she was only just realising, all of a sudden, just how important it was that she did not cause her own training mission failure that would bring about his disciplinary measures and her dishonorable discharge from the Secret Special Services, even if she didn’t like them or was comfortable with them.
‘Lock and load, slave-soldier,’ he ordered her like a general.
‘Yes, Master. I will not fail,’ she snapped back, sounding to Andy that she had convinced herself now that she wouldn’t.
‘Who owns you, slave soldier?’ Andy readied, his personal assault weapon straining at his breaches, magazine now fully loaded.
‘You do, Master,’ she snapped back evenly.
‘Who does not dare risk questioning the direct orders of her training Master?’
‘Me, Master. I will not!’ she snapped firmly back him, while his personal assault weapon snapped twice into the side of his left upper thigh.
‘Stay inside the car and strip off your uniform and all underwear, now! Throw it on the back seat then put your seat fully back and then lay fully down into it. I need to inspect that you are up to training mission standard or fail your first mission tonight!’ he said, firmly, knowing he remembered reading something similar on some website he had looked at; to keep her thinking mind distracted and focussed on the mission threat given at the end, which he did then. ‘You have only sixty seconds, slave-soldier. Start now! Lock and load!’
‘Yes, Master!’ the policewowman snapped back firmly, without looking at him, as she had been for most of his time, so far.
Andy turned more towards her as the policewoman then began to quickly undress, starting with her shirt. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It a light green, even though the instrumentation lights had been turned off when she had arrived.
By the time his eyes had quickly returned to watch her the policewoman was now bare-chested, her breasts full and free and swinging as she lifted her hips to remove her dark police uniform trousers. After getting them to her ankles, Andy noticed she had to stop and take her boots off.
Then her trousers came off. Her dark underwear was thumbed down quickly over her thighs and knees and then off her feet. And apart from a pendnant hanging around her neck, the policewoman slave-soldier was now as naked, as the day she had been born.
And the policewoman, Andy observed, now extremely aroused, was a solid, athletic and muscular type woman. He also realised that he was threatening to shoot himself in the thigh with his own assault weapon that was definitely now fully locked and was definitely now fully loaded inside its custom made magazine.
Andy quickly, but with difficulty, tore his captured male gaze away from her dark bush of pubic hair to glance at the police car’s clock. She had five seconds to go.without making a move to open the police car door. She quickly wound down her seat and then lay herself fully down in it, with a seeming sigh of sheer relief. Andy looked quickly back at the clock. She hadn’t made it. She was four seconds into overtime.
‘You’re four seconds late, slave-soldier!’ Andy barked at her in his best Commander’s tone. ‘Discipline or discharge! Your call! No thinking! Now!’
‘Discipline!’ she snapped back quickly.
‘Discipline, What?’ he snapped right back at her.
‘Discipline, Master!’ she said firmly, but with the edge of panic in her voice. ‘Please! No discharge! Discipline, Master!’
Andy wasn’t game to touch himself to readjust his personal assault weapon’s readiness aim. It would go off and shoot him. He knew that implicitly.
Andy’s eyes were glued to seemingly everywhere of the policewoman’s naked body, at the same time. If he had a heart, he thought briefly, it would have stopped by now for sure. So he figured he didn’t have one, after all; accepting fully in the happeneing moment that he was running totally on fresh air adrenalin and the highly charaged aromatic naked smell of the policewoman’s pure and now-visible-to-him nude femininity.
Suddenly, Andy slammed both of hands hard down into his lap, pressing so forcefully with all his natural strength and grimmacing, as if to stop the bleeding. He felt as if he’d been shot. After almost a full minute, he glanced sideways, painfully staring at the total and utter nudity of the solid policewoman’s feminine form. Then Andy sighed, realising the truth he had always feared had actually happened. He had been shot... by himself.
Personal assault weapon, he groaned silently, dejectedly; must have a hair trigger; went off all by itself. Now what was he going to do in the police car with the buck-naked policewoman Secret Special Services slave-soldier?