5 of 33
Chapter Four: Respect For The Law
Keith hummed along with the Top 40 song on the radio as he blasted down the freeway. Other than a sensation of mild euphoria, he hadn’t noticed any difference after the Conditioner Treatment. Of course, the mild euphoria was probably due to the substantial salary he’d been offered. Now I can rid of this damn thing, he thought as he ground the aging Mazda into fifth.
Now I can...
The red lights behind him yanked him back into reality. He pulled over and, grumbling, reached for the license and registration. He already had them ready to present when the state trooper approached the window.
He held the documents up to the trooper and was about to rattle off a vague excuse when he noticed the long brown hair tied up but still straying out from underneath the mountie-style hat. Then the face—serious hazel eyes, a small tight mouth with incongruously red lips on an unmade-up feminine face.
“Licence and registration.” Keith handed them over. She tapped her boot as she read the information off the documents. “I’ll be right back,” she informed him in a cold, efficient voice. He nodded and she strode back to the prowl car, no doubt to run a DMV check on him through the computers. As he waited, it occurred to him this was his chance to try some Conditioning. Klaw and Petersen had advised him to start slowly but if there was an use to this newly-granted ability, it was certainly now.
A visual once-over at the trooper as she sat in her car suggested she could do with some attitude readjustment. Her face was unremarkable except for a small, tight red mouth, which was frozen into what looked like a permanent scowl. No doubt her attempt to be taken seriously by her fellow cops. Her body was difficult to gauge, hidden as it was underneath the clumsy uniform, though it was clear she could lose about five pounds below the waist. All in all, not bad. Except for the sour face and poor attitude, she’d be in the almost-cute category.
He debated whether to try the Conditioning.
She got out and walked back to Keith. “You were doing eighty-six in a sixty-five mile an hour stretch, Mr. Hynde. And since that’s over the twenty mile range, I’m afraid it’ll cost you this time.” She handed him back his license and registration—plus a citation for three hundred dollars.
Three hundred dollars! That made up his mind.
He looked up at her and smiled. Slowly—as advised by his new mentors—he pressed ever so gently on the new accelerator in his own mind, feeling the suggestive power rev up.
“Did you call it in?” he asked.
She nodded, looking surprised. No doubt she had never been spoken to in such a bold way by a mere motorist. His new insight told Keith that she was becoming alarmed; Keith concentrated and smoothed things over. She relaxed.
So far, so good.
Now the next step.
A suggestion: “I think you made a mistake, didn’t you?”
She nodded slowly. “I may have.” The puzzled look returned and, once again, Keith smoothed it over.
Another suggestion: “Better rip up the ticket and report the mistake. Now.” He handed the ticket back and watched, amazed, as she tore it up.
“Better call in your mistake,” he told her. “Then come back.”
“I’ll be right back,” she informed him, then went back to the cruiser to report her mistake. A minute later she returned.
“All done?” he asked.
“All done, Mr. Hynde,” still looking vaguely puzzled. “You’re clear.”
Keith sagged a bit, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It worked! He’d half expected that she’d be calling for backup to deal with some crazy driver rather than actually calling in a mistake.
He looked up at her, about to let her go when... the image of Christie was called up in his mind. Let her go? He felt kind of strange. Maybe...
“Hmmm,” he tried to look thoughtful. “You know, I ought to report this badgering of an innocent motorist to your captain. You’ve been a real pest, you know that?” In his mind, he tried to project a way in which she could make it up to him. The female trooper wet her red lips, subconsciously reacting to his suggestion.
“Yes, well, I suppose I could...". She looked confused.
Keith laughed as a feeling of pure euphoria washed over him. “Go fuck yourself?” he chuckled. It really worked! “And stick that ticket up your ass?”
His laughter died in his throat as the female office moved to obey him, dropping her hand into her pants. It was working much better than he had expected.
“Whoa, honey! I didn’t mean that literally!” He laughed again, enjoying the spectacle of the uniformed woman grabbing the bits of torn ticket as she attempted to jam them up between her legs. “Lady cops are so-oo dumb.”
She stopped and looked up at him, her face blank.
“Tell you what—I have a better idea. Wouldn’t you rather suck my cock like a five dollar hooker?”
Nervous and boxed in by his suggestions, she could only nod dumbly.
“Fine. You have permission to suck my cock. Get in,” he ordered.
The young policewoman obeyed, walking around the car and sidling in the passenger side door. For a second she resisted, but then began to crouch down on the front seat.
“Take off your blouse honey,” Keith ordered, awash with a feeling of power. “I may want to cum on your tits. And be quick about it—I still may report you to your supervisor,” he warned.
She nodded, pulling off the blue, buttoned regulation shirt to reveal a plain white cotton bra that held smallish, hard breasts. A second later, the small apple-boobs popped out and she placed herself between his legs. She wanted to wetten her lips some more, but Keith was getting impatient. He pulled her hat off and freed her long brown hair, running his hand through it.
“Nice,” he commented, even as he took an handful and yanked her face down against his now erect cock. She opened her mouth and her lips engulfed his member and began sucking. He wanted a bit more enthusiasm and strengthened the suggestion that if she didn’t get him off, he would be sure to make a complaint—one that would cost her the job. Immediately the lips worked harder and the normally asexual female cop began to force herself to greater lengths to satisfy him.
Anything to save her job.
Just he was about to come, Keith pushed her back and came across her small, hard breasts. She sat dazed, in utter humiliation as he wiped his cock on her brown hair.
As he did up his zipper, it occurred to him that he should take some momentos of this first use of his new power. After a moment’s thought, he reached down, unsnapped the holster and removed the police revolver. His captive policewoman didn’t protest being stripped of her firearm. She likewise didn’t flinch as he unclipped the badge from her crumpled blouse.
Keith felt her innate resistance, but it was surprisingly easy to step down on her will, forcing her to remain in place. Still, it was a bit different from the easy control Klaw had exerted over Christie. Notwithstanding the successful “test run”, Keith realized he would need more practice at this as he pocketed the badge and tossed the revolver in the back seat. Not that he wanted the revolver—he’d toss the thing at some point on the ride home.
The badge would be a nice souvenir though.
“Mmmmm... uh...". It was his policewoman. He felt her will trembling to break free as she tried to speak. He was losing his concentration.
He bore down, focussing: “Give me your wallet. And your keys.”
Her resistance crumbled. She complied, reaching into her back pocket and handing them over. He flipped through the wallet. “Dyana Kelleher. Nice Irish girl cop, huh?” He took the money inside—only a twenty—and handed it back to her, empty.
“I’ll be right back,” he told her, concentrating his order into a conditioned command. “Stay here.” He trotted out to the cruiser, locked the doors and pocketed the keys.
Satisfied that no one would disturb the car in the near future, he hopped back into his own vehicle, shut the door and began to drive. A burning rush flooded his reason out. This power, this new ability—it made him feel... godlike.
That was the only word for it.
He had never been anything other than the politest, most demure among his acquaintances and friends. But now things had changed. The realization that he could command this woman, this police officer, to obey his whims shook him to his core. He could do what he liked—within the bounds set by his new employer.
And now he was going to teach this uppity bitch a lesson she would NEVER forget!
After taking the nearest exit and driving for about twenty minutes, he found what he was looking for—the increasing proliferation of graffiti and filth told him he was in a suitably bad neighbourhood.
He turned to the woman. She was sitting, still topless, in the front passenger seat, staring blankly.
“Now listen to me.”
The humbled, half naked girl did so, unable to do anything else. Congealed cum was ripping down between her breasts now, beginning in some places to dry into a flaky white residue.
“This is what happened.” Concentrate. “An irate motorist decided to teach you a lesson, after you pulled him over. He pretended to have a pistol in his coat pocket and easily relieved you of your weapon and badge. Then he told you to give him the blowjob of your life—or he’d kill you. You did exactly what he told you to do. Then he left you here. Anyone asks you for details—you don’t remember anything about the assailant other than he was an older man with glasses Got it?”
He knew from his new insight that she did; he could almost see the story percolate through her mind... imprinting itself on her memory. Her nod only increased his assurance. “Good—now get out.”
He sensed that some brothers hanging on the corner were getting interested in the white dude now from across the street.
She began to reach for her blouse and bra, but he restrained her. “I’ll need these to clean your spit off my dick, bitch. But here—you can have your hat back. And let’s make you more accessible for your new friends.” He unclipped her cuffs and smartly drew her wrists behind her back. The cuffs locked on snugly with a quiet click. He placed the state trooper smokey hat back on her head, unlatched the door and pushed her out of the car.
Standing in the street, half dressed in her uniform hat and pants, the unarmed policewoman looked anxiously around for a phone or some other form of help. Keith watched her almost make it into a corner store before the black teenage boys caught up with her. In minutes, she was back on her knees again with not so much as her panties on.
It was a deep inner city neighbourhood—it was doubtful she’d be leaving for some time. The small tight red lips were wrapped around a big black cock now—with four more to service behind it.
One of the teens turned toward him, still some twenty yards away but menacing nevertheless.
“Yo—get the hell out NOW, man. You wanna DIE?!?!?!”
He hit the accelerator. Remembering all the speed traps he had been caught by in the past, he listened to her cries for help with intense satisfaction as he sped away—a good ten miles over the speed limit.