Officer Elaine - New police code

Yet another grueling and boring shift. One would think being a beat cop near the red light district of the city would come with some exciting stories like on TV, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

If anything did happen I know I have more than enough experience to handle it, but the most exciting event in recent memory was the one time I had to deal with a fender bender where both drivers were sober.

This job had only one proper descriptor: draining. I'm just 30, but these long late night shifts make my mind so numb it makes me feel like jaded, apathetic cop near retirement.

Day after day, same boring shift with no interesting calls nearby, where I simply wander the streets until the sun comes up.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, I found myself leaning against a lamppost, my tired eyes scanning the now quiet streets of the red light district. The usual nighttime revelry had long since dissipated, leaving behind an eerie stillness that seemed to amplify the dull throb of exhaustion in my temples.

I had been walking these same blocks for hours, my footsteps echoing through the empty alleys and side streets. The monotony of it all threatened to overwhelm me, each step feeling heavier than the last as I trudged along on autopilot. It was a far cry from the adrenaline-fueled chases and dramatic confrontations I had imagined when I first signed up for this job.

A crashing noise caught my attention, as what seemed to be a pair of drunk men stumbled their way out of a bar. They didn't seem to be drunk enough to be a danger, but still I kept my eyes on them as they approached.

One of the drunken men, a scruffy individual with a stained t-shirt, turned his bleary gaze towards me as they approached. He leered, his words slurring together.

"Well, well, well... Lookit what we have here. A sexy little cop, all alone on a dark night." He hiccuped, his buddy snickering beside him. "Why don't you ditch the uniform, sweetheart, and come have some real fun with us, hmm?"

He took a staggering step closer, his eyes roving over my body in a way that made my skin crawl. His breath reeked of cheap ****. I tensed, my hand instinctively moving to rest on the butt of my gun, ready to react if needed. But I knew I had to stay calm and professional, no matter how much his crude words disgusted me. It was just another part of the job I'd grown all too accustomed to.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't do that, nor I want to."

The drunken man's face contorted into an ugly sneer at my rebuff. He took another lurching step forward, now close enough that I could feel the heat of his ****-tinged breath on my face.

"Aw, don't be like that, baby. I'm just tryin' to be friendly," he slurred, his hand reaching out to grab at my arm. I deftly sidestepped his clumsy grasp, my body coiled tight with tension.

"Sir, unless you need my help with something I must ask you to move along."

The man, seemingly frustrated I wasn't corresponding his vulgar flirting, shouted back: "I want some help getting my rocks off you whore!"

With a sigh, knowing the police code of conduct, I rolled my eyes before looking back at the man. I paused, a wave of unease washing over me at the man's crude outburst. The brass had made it clear that we were to... accommodate certain requests, for the sake of keeping the peace and maintaining positive relations with the community. It was a distasteful aspect of the job, but one that we were all expected to endure.

With a heavy sigh, I stepped closer to the man, lowering my voice. "You want me to... service you, right? Whatever... It's not a big deal, I do this all the time." I said the words flatly, detached, as if describing a routine traffic stop.

My hand moved to the zipper of my pants, starting to undo them slowly.* "I'll make this quick, okay? Just don't make a scene. And keep it in your pants until I say otherwise." I gave him a stern look, making it clear that while I would comply with his demands, I would not tolerate any further aggression.

The man eagerly downed the rest of his liquor, the bottle clattering to the ground as he licked his lips, eyeing me with a newfound intensity. His gaze was glazed over with a mix of **** and lust, his intentions clear as he stumbled closer, hands already fumbling with his belt.

"Fuck yeah, baby. Can't wait to feel that tight little cunt," he growled, his words dripping with crudeness and desperation. I simply nodded, stepping back into a nearby alleyway for some semblance of privacy, my heart heavy with resignation to what I had to do.

I quickly unbuttoned my pants and shimmied them down, along with my underwear, exposing myself to the cool night air. I leaned back against the rough brick wall, spreading my legs slightly in a clear invitation. The man didn't hesitate, quickly freeing his already hard cock and moving to stand between my thighs.

"Hurry up and stick it in," I said flatly, bracing myself for the inevitable intrusion.

With a bored sigh, I braced myself against the grimy alley wall, my mind already wandering as the drunken man fumbled to position his erect cock. This was a daily occurrence, a chore that had long since lost any semblance of excitement or novelty. I might as well have been filing my nails or writing up a report on a lost pet - it was that mundane to me now.

As he finally managed to line himself up, I looked off into the distance, my eyes glazing over as I waited for the inevitable intrusion. The first thrust was always the worst, my body stiffening reflexively at the sudden invasion. But I quickly **** myself to relax, knowing it would be over faster if I just gave in.

He started to rut into me, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated from the ****. The wet, obscene sounds of our coupling echoed off the alley walls, mingling with his grunts and curses. I tuned it out, my mind drifting to the stack of paperwork waiting for me back at the station. A missing cat report, perhaps?

Noticing the second man's bored expression, I sighed, knowing the protocol in such situations. I had to make this a show, entice him too, to keep things 'fair' and avoid any trouble. With a practiced motion, I reached up and unbuttoned my shirt, revealing the lacy bra underneath. I arched my back slightly, pushing my breasts together as I put on a little display for him.

"That's it, baby, moan for me," the man inside me grunted, spurred on by my cooperation. I let out a obligatory moan, keeping my eyes locked with the second man's. I slid a hand down between my legs, putting on a show of touching myself as I was used.

I circled my fingers around my clit, putting on a lewd display, my other hand playing with my breast. The second man's eyes widened with lust, his hand moving to palm his own growing erection through his pants. I licked my lips, maintaining eye contact, giving him a show he wouldn't soon forget, all while mechanically taking the thrusts of the man inside me.

The man grunted in frustration as my service belt kept catching on his thrusts, impeding his rhythm. He paused, panting heavily, and grabbed at the belt with clumsy hands. "Fuckin' hell, this thing's in the way," he slurred, tugging at it impatiently.

Sighing, I knew what I had to do. I pushed him back slightly and reached down, unclipping my belt and letting it fall to the ground with a clatter. My gun, taser, and other equipment clinked together as they hit the pavement. I kicked off my shoes as well, leaving myself bare from the waist down.

"There, that should make it easier," I said flatly, leaning back against the wall and spreading my legs again in invitation. The man needed no further encouragement, immediately grabbing my hips and slamming back into me with renewed vigor.

"Damn, this is so fuckin' hot. A real cop, lettin' us use her like this," the second man said, his voice thick with lust as he watched the lewd display. I rolled my eyes at his comment, but knew what I had to do next.

With a grunt of effort, I reached into my breast pocket and unclipped out my police badge, holding it up for him to see. "Here, want a closer look?" I asked sarcastically, tossing him the shiny metal object. He caught it eagerly, turning it over in his hands and grinning like a schoolboy.

"Fuckin' hell, it's real alright. I can't believe I'm watchin' a real cop get fucked," he marveled, his eyes glued to the badge, then to my body being used mere feet away. I just sighed, knowing this was all part of the job - proving my identity, giving them a thrill, anything to make this degrading ritual go smoothly.

The man looked up from my badge, a greedy gleam in his eyes. "Hey, can I keep this? It'd be a real souvenir, ya know?" He grinned, already pocketing the badge before I could respond.

I sighed, knowing my equipment and even my clothes were technically public property, meant to be used in the line of duty. I had no real say in what happened to them. "I don't want to lose it, but... I suppose if you take it, there's not much I can do to stop you," I said resignedly, shrugging as much as I could while pinned against the wall.

The man just smirked, patting his pocket. "Sweet! A real cop's badge. This is fuckin' awesome." He turned his attention back to the show, palming his erection more eagerly now, spurred on by his new 'souvenir'. I just closed my eyes, wishing I was anywhere else as the man inside me continued his sloppy thrusts.

The man grunted and cursed with each thrust, his vulgar insults filling the air. "Fuckin' whore, this is what you're made for. Takin' cock from guys like us," he spat, his hips slapping lewdly against my thighs. "Bet you fuckin' love this, don't you slut? Love bein' used like a cheap fuckin' fleshlight."

I just gritted my teeth, trying to tune out his degrading words. It was easier to just take it, to let him say whatever he wanted. It would all be over soon anyway. His thrusts started to become more erratic, signaling his impending release.

"Gonna fuckin' nut inside you, paint your whore cunt white," he grunted, slamming into me one last time before stilling, his cock pulsing as he creampied me with his hot, thick seed. I felt it flooding my insides, a sickeningly warm sensation that made my stomach churn. He groaned in satisfaction, giving a few more weak thrusts before finally pulling out, a trickle of his cum dripping down my thigh.

The man, still panting from his release, looked down at my discarded pants and service belt. A greedy grin spread across his face. "Hey, I think I'll take these too. A real cop's uniform, fuck that's hot." He bent down and grabbed my pants, underwear, and service belt before I could protest.

I sighed in annoyance, but knew I couldn't stop him. It was all just part of the job, the price I paid for keeping the peace. "Fine, take them. But don't come crying to me if you get arrested for having an officer's property," I warned.

He just laughed, holding up my pants like a trophy. "Worth the risk. Fuck, I can still smell your cunt on these. This is gonna be a hell of a souvenir." He tucked my pants under his arm, leaving me bare and dripping in the alleyway.

With a sigh of resignation, I looked over at the second man, still palming his erection as he watched the scene with hungry eyes. "Well, are you going to just stand there gawking or are you going to use me so I can get this over with?"

He didn't need to be told twice. He quickly moved forward, fumbling with his pants to free his own hard cock. "Fuck yeah, I've been waitin' for this," he muttered, stroking himself as he took in the sight of my exposed, dripping pussy."A real cop, all for me. I can't fuckin' believe it."

He stepped forward, grabbing my hips and lining himself up. I braced myself, knowing this was far from over. I just had to endure, to take whatever they wanted to give me, until they finally left me alone.

As the second man began to rut into me, grunting and cursing, I could hear the first man rummaging through my stolen pants. I could only sigh in acceptance as I heard the distinct rustle of my wallet being removed, followed by the beep of my phone being unlocked.

I knew I should feel more upset about the loss of my personal belongings, but somehow, it all seemed so trivial compared to the degrading act I was currently enduring. My wallet, my phone, they were all just tools of the job, replaceable. My dignity, on the other hand, felt like it was being stripped away bit by bit with each thrust of the man using me.

"Heh, got your wallet and phone. Guess you won't be calling for backup, cop," the first man taunted, waving my phone mockingly before tucking both it and my wallet into his pocket. I just closed my eyes, turning my face away, not wanting to acknowledge his words.

The man pounding into me suddenly grabbed the front of my bra, his fingers digging into the lace. With a sharp tug, he ripped it away, the flimsy material tearing like tissue paper. My breasts sprang free, bouncing slightly with each rough thrust of his hips.

"Fuck, look at those tits. Bet you love showin' 'em off, don't ya slut?" he growled, reaching out to grope the exposed flesh roughly. I couldn't help but let out a pained gasp at his harsh touch, my nipples hardening against my will in the cool night air.

He chuckled darkly, taking my silence as agreement. "That's what I thought. Just a set of fuck holes with a badge. Now be a good whore and scream for me." He punctuated his command with a particularly hard thrust, forcing a lewd cry from my throat as he used my body for his pleasure.

The first man, now pockets heavy with my stolen cash, laughed mockingly as he watched his friend rut into me. "Guess I'll have to buy a round for the boys, courtesy of Officer Cocksleeve here," he sneered, patting the bulge in his pocket.

Despite the degrading situation, I still was bound to follow my professional duties. I turned my head to look at him, my voice strained but firm.* "I would remind you, sir, that according to the police code, **** should be consumed in moderation and never to excess. Excessive drinking can lead to poor decisions and harm to oneself and others. I suggest you drink responsibly."

My words seemed to take him aback for a moment, but then he just laughed harder, shaking his head. "Wow, even with a cock in you, you're still tryin' to play cop. That's fuckin' rich. Don't worry, I'll make sure to 'hydrate' properly," he said, making air quotes around the word 'hydrate'. He then turned and walked away, leaving me to my fate with his friend.

The man hilted inside me suddenly pulled out, his slick cock slapping against his belly. He stroked himself rapidly, grunting as he did. "Gonna mark my territory, cop. Gonna paint that pretty face and those big tits white," he growled, his voice tight with impending release.

I knew better than to protest. I just knelt down, closed my eyes and turned my face up slightly, accepting my fate. The first hot splashes of his cum hit my cheek and chest, followed by spurt after spurt of his thick seed. He groaned long and low, making a show of marking me, claiming me.

When he finally finished, he stepped back, admiring his handiwork. I sat there, panting and coated in the evidence of his pleasure, feeling dirty and used. But I had endured, I had taken it. And that was all I could do. "There, now you really look like the whore you are," he said with a smirk before tucking himself away and leaving me alone in the alley, a cum-streaked mess.

As the second man left, I let out a long, shuddering sigh, trying to compose myself amidst the wreckage of my dignity and uniform. I looked down at my now meager attire and felt a pang of despair. My once pristine police uniform was reduced to little more than a few scraps of fabric.

My bra and panties had been ripped away, leaving my torso and lower half bare save for the cum splattered across my skin. My pants and service belt were gone, taken as twisted souvenirs by the first man. Even my shirt had been torn open at some point, the buttons scattered on the grimy alley floor. The only remnants of my professional attire were my police issue shortsleeves, and my shoes, the shiny black leather a stark contrast to the filthy ground and the degrading acts committed upon me.

I sat there for a moment, taking stock of my situation. Alone, nearly naked, covered in the evidence of the interaction, and stripped of the tools and authority of my job.

As I sat there contemplating my situation, a stray thought drifted through my mind: the fact that my service weapon was now in the hands of civilians. It was a disturbing notion, one that seemed to go against every instinct of a police officer. Allowing untrained citizens to possess a tool meant for law enforcement and protection was, in my professional opinion, shortsighted protocol.

I sighed, shaking my head slightly. It wasn't my place to question department policy, no matter how flawed it may seem. I was just a cog in the machine, expected to follow orders without question. The fact that my gun was now in the wrong hands was a concern, but ultimately not my cross to bear. I had followed procedure, had tried to de-escalate the situation as best I could within the confines of my role. If the higher-ups had decided that allowing civilians access to our weapons was acceptable, then who was I to argue?

I pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on the more immediate problem of my predicament. I would have to find a way back to the station, to file a report and begin the process of replacing my stolen property and my compromised weapon.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, I pushed myself to my feet, my bare skin sticky with the remnants of my ordeal. I looked down at myself, taking in the sight of my nearly nude body, marked with the signs of the two strangers.

I knew I had **** but to finish out the rest of my shift, no matter how degrading and humiliating it might be. I was a professional, and I had a job to do. Even if that job now consisted of standing half-naked in a filthy alley, with cum dripping down my thighs, I would see it through.

As I stood there, waiting for the minutes to tick by until the end of my shift, a continued to lament my fate. It was just another mundane incident in the life of a cop, hardly noteworthy compared to the excitement and danger I had always imagined my job would entail.

I found myself wishing for something, anything, to happen. A sudden call, a chase, a real crime to solve. Anything to make me feel like I was actually fulfilling my purpose as an officer, rather than just a meter maid. But I knew it was futile. The night was quiet, and I was just a forgotten figure in a forgotten alley, counting down the seconds until I could go home and forget this night ever happened.