© Copyright 2003

"I'm sorry Officer!" I said into the glare of the flashlight, "I didn't realize I was going so fast!"

"License and registration, please" a female voice emanated from behind the light. That was good!

I handed her the documents and put on my most charming attitude, "I guess my mind was still on my date tonight!"

"Is this your correct address, Sir?" she waved the license.

"Yes ma'am!"

She checked the picture against my flashlighted face, then noted something off my license and compared it to my registration.

"Sir," she said officiously, "you were exceeding the speed limit by twenty-two miles per hour. I have only two choices here."

'Two?' I thought, 'That's better than one!' then, 'Twenty-two? I thought I was doing at least thirty over. I'd better get that speedometer checked!'

I hit the high beams on the charm. "And what might those two choices be, Officer?"

She still had her official voice on, "I can write you a ticket, and you can take care of it with the courts, or..."

"'Or' what, Officer?"

"Or my partner and I can pay you a visit when we get off duty, and teach you the dangers of excessive speed."

As she spoke, she shone the flashlight briefly on the attractive blonde who stood near the rear of my car, one hand on her sidearm.

'Jackpot!' I thought, 'The old Grayson charm does it again!'

"Well, Officer," I smiled, "as much as I would enjoy interacting with our fine city's bureaucracy, I think a little private traffic school might be more effective in preventing future infractions on my part!"

"All right," the flashlight clicked off, "go home and wait for us. We'll be there in about two and a half hours. God help you if you don't answer the door."

I was in a dressing gown and had the lights turned low and a bottle of Champagne chilling in the bucket when the bell rang.

Much to my delight, the two policewomen still wore their uniforms, equipment belts and all. They brushed past me as they entered my pad, each kissing me lightly on the cheek, and fondling my privates through the robe.

'This, ' I thought, 'could turn out to be a marvelous evening.'

"Can I get you ladies anything?" I asked, ever the gracious host, "I have Champagne chilled, and the refrigerator is well stocked with hors d'oeuvres."

The dark-haired one, whose nameplate read 'Sanchez', said, "I'll take a beer if you've got one."

The blonde, who was slightly taller, but built more for speed than her partner, said softly, "I'll take a glass of that Champagne."

I got a bottle of Pilsner from the fridge and flipped the top off before returning to the dimly lit living room. I handed Sanchez her beer and opened the Champagne, being sure not to let the cork pop. I wasn't sure how trigger-happy these two might be and didn't want to find out.

I poured Gallagher, the blonde, a glass, then turned to pour one for myself.

I never got to the glass. The bottle was taken from my hand and both arms were deftly levered behind my back. I felt handcuffs ratcheting tightly onto my wrists.

This wasn't quite how I had envisioned the evening proceeding, but hey, I'm an adventurous guy, so I didn't put up a fuss, even when they pulled my robe down my arms and wrapped the whole thing around my bound hands. This left me in essentially the state of undress I had anticipated, after all, although I had no use of my hands.

I did start to worry a bit when Gallagher asked her partner, "Do you think we should lube it first?"

"Lube what first?!" I asked, trying to see over my shoulder.

"Never you mind!" Sanchez said as she shoved my face into the mirror over the sideboard.

OK, this was definitely NOT the scenario I had in mind, but there was little to be done about it now!

"Yeah, lube it." Sanchez told her partner, "We don't need him going to the doctor and having to answer a lot of questions."

Sanchez put her head next to mine and whispered, exuding coffee and spearmint, "My partner's going to fuck your cute little ass with her baton. You stay there and take it like a good boy, and maybe we'll let you get off once or twice before we go. You give us any grief, and you'll wish you were a eunuch, got me?"

She grabbed my balls and squeezed, just hard enough to emphasize her point, and I nodded vigorously.

Sanchez stepped sideways, but kept the pressure on my back. Gallagher moved up behind me and said, "This is a genuine Monadnock PR24 police baton, my boy, and before I'm done, the side handle on this little beauty is gonna be keeping your balls company. If I were you, I'd just relax and let it happen, 'cause it's going to no matter what you try to do!"

"Oh, by the way," she whispered, her breath tickling my ear, "you know what the '24' stands for, don't you?"

When I shook my head, she breathed, "Inches. Twenty-four inches."

While she lubed my cringing rectum with something cold, I prayed that the 24 inches was the overall length. I wasn't even sure I could take the eighteen inches or so that would extend beyond the side handle even then, but I KNEW I'd never be able to take twenty four without rupturing something important.

As the cold, blunt end of the stick nudged my anus, I looked down and was astonished to see my own 'baton' standing at attention!

I didn't have much time to reflect on the 'why's and 'wherefore's of my erection as Gallagher started vigorously jamming the lubricated rod up my hershey tunnel.

Do you realize how thick a Monadnock PR24 IS? They don't LOOK all that thick, because they're so damn LONG, but let me tell you, that was no pencil that blonde haired cop shoved up my butt!

I weathered the initial entry without too much pain by pushing out as she pushed in, but I wasn't prepared for her to keep going right through my colon. THAT HURT! It felt a little like my last colonoscopy, but the Monadnock was MUCH bigger, and not nearly as flexible!

I wailed like a banshee as she drove that pole further and further into my bowels. I could feel my guts shifting around to let the impaled segments straighten out. Gallagher would shove until she met too much resistance, then she'd back off a few inches and shove again.

OH GOD! I felt like I was sitting on a telephone pole! Suddenly, I could empathize with the recipients of the ancient punishment called impalement - hoisted aloft on a grape-stake driven lengthways through their torsos (starting - guess where?)!

I screamed like a little girl. Some detached part of me knew what I sounded like, but the part of me in the here and now didn't care. That damned club kept going, and, true to her word, I soon felt the side handle parting my scrotum as it pressed between my balls.

'Oh, thank God!' I thought, 'That's as far as it can go!'

Boy, was I wrong! Gallagher withdrew the club a few inches and rotated it 180 degrees. "Let's see if you can take it all!" She rasped.

Oh, Damn! More gut-shifting, hard pushing, twisting, screaming on my part, and even some grunting from the club wielder, and I felt the base of the side handle jammed against the top of my butthole.

Panting, Gallagher leaned over my back again. "Look down!" she whispered harshly.

I did, and was confronted with a mystery for the ages. My cock was harder than it had been in years! I used to get hard-ons like that all the time as teen, before I learned how to charm the pants off almost any woman.

I don't know when she left but I realized Sanchez was no longer at my back. I looked in the mirror and saw her laying on my sofa with her trousers down and both hands between her legs.

Gallagher, too, was struggling to get her equipment belt and pants down.

"I'm going to fuck you now, boy!" she breathed.

The blonde police officer pulled my hips back and bent me over the sideboard until my face rested between the glasses and bottles. She stood on tiptoe and straddled the handle of the baton, nestling the upthrust side handle between her dripping labia. With little effort, she engulfed the side handle within her yellow haired pussy. Our heights were different enough that when she stood flat-footed, there was slight downward pressure on the handle of the nightstick.

Tentatively, at first, then with greater confidence and passion, she pumped her hips toward mine, then away. I could only imagine the sensations the cudgel caused her clit and G-spot. I know the smooth sliding of the weapon across my prostate and well up into my large intestine was having a direct effect on my traitorous cock.

Cock hell! Soon my whole body was pushing back to meet my rapists thrusts! I couldn't believe my flesh would betray me this way!