Fuck the Police

Officer Wanda Ortega shoved Eli toward the police car, jaw tight, nostrils flared. Her hand hovered near her holster—not out of protocol, but because being this close to a white man made her pulse spike in ways she didn’t want to examine.

“Move,” she barked.

Eli walked without resistance, without fear—without the submission she expected. He looked almost amused.

“Relax, Officer,” he said. “If you squeeze my arm any harder, people will think you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” she snapped.

““You’re nervous around a white man,” he murmured. “You can’t even concentrate—you just want to surrender and let everything go.””

“Shut up.”

He leaned in—didn’t touch her, just hovered close, close enough to rattle her.

“Your self‑esteem hinges on how I treat you,” he murmured. “That’s the humiliating part—being degraded is all you really crave.”

“That’s a lie,” she hissed.

But her step faltered.

They reached the patrol car. She slammed him back against it—hard. He didn’t flinch.

“You hate that I see right through you,” he said softly. “Hate even more that you want me to.”

“Stop talking,” she growled. But her voice trembled.

“You want my attention,” Eli said. “You need it. That scares you more than anything.”

Her knees wobbled.

Eli smiled.“Down,” he whispered.

Before pride or training could react, her body obeyed.

She sank.

Eli grinned, his voice dropping to a taunting purr. “Ahhh, with you Esmaran sluts it’s always the same—you’re **** for a real man and his white dick.”

"Look at you," Eli said, his voice low and mocking. "Badge and all, but you're just another bitch on her knees. Unzip me. Show me how bad you want it."

She should have stood up, radioed for backup, anything. But her hands moved anyway, trembling fingers fumbling with his belt buckle. The metal clinked softly, drowned out by the distant hum of traffic. Esmé yanked down his zipper, pulling his pants open just enough to free him. His cock sprang out, thick and half-hard already, veins pulsing under the skin. It bobbed in front of her face, the musky scent hitting her like a slap—sweat and man, unapologetic.

"Suck it," Eli commanded, not a request. "Suck this white dick like the **** slut you are. Bet you've been thinking about it since you saw me in your rearview."

Wanda´s breath caught, humiliation burning through her like cheap whiskey. She hated how right he was, how his words wormed into the cracks of her resolve. Her lips parted, and she leaned forward, taking the head into her mouth. It was warm, salty, stretching her jaw as she slid down further. Eli groaned, a low rumble that vibrated through her.

"Fuck yeah," he muttered. "That's it, Officer. **** on it. You love being used like this—don't you? All that power, and you're just a cocksucker at heart."

She bobbed her head, saliva building as she worked him deeper, her tongue pressing against the underside. The cuffs rattled faintly behind him as he shifted his hips, pushing forward to fuck her mouth. Wanda gagged when he hit the back of her throat, tears pricking her eyes, but she didn't pull away. The degradation fueled her, a twisted fire that made her pussy throb under her uniform pants. She could feel the dampness soaking through her panties, her body betraying her every instinct.

Eli's taunts kept coming, relentless. "Pathetic. Kneeling for a Cracker you just arrested. What would your precinct say? 'Officer Ortega, the Esmaran whore who can't resist a real man's cock.'" He laughed softly, the sound cruel and intoxicating. "Deeper, bitch. Earn it."

For a heartbeat, she despised herself. Normally, pulling over white men was the highlight of her shift—an excuse to assert control she never had anywhere else. A harsh shove against the hood, a twisted arm, a night in the cell for the smallest bit of attitude. Sometimes she dragged it out just to watch them sweat, just to remind herself she could break them whenever she wanted.

But now?

Now her certainty evaporated the second Eli’s eyes met hers.

What is wrong with me? Wanda thought, fury hot in her chest. Why can’t I treat him like the others? Why do I… want his glorious White Cock so desperately?

After what felt like an eternity of her mouth working him over, Eli pulled back slightly, his dick glistening with her saliva. "Enough," he said. "Unlock these cuffs. You know you want to. Let me show you what a real fuck feels like."

Wanda hesitated, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her lips swollen and red. Her mind screamed no, but her body ached yes. The keys were on her belt, cold metal against her hip. With a shaky breath, she stood just long enough to fish them out, her knees protesting. She unlocked the cuffs, the click echoing like a gunshot in the empty rest stop. Eli rubbed his wrists, flexing them with a grin that promised payback.

Before she could straighten, his hand shot out, fingers tangling in her dark hair. He yanked hard, pulling her head back to expose her throat. "Good girl," he purred, the praise laced with venom. "Now bend over the hood. Time to fuck that tight little pussy like it deserves."

Wanda heart raced as he spun her around, slamming her chest against the warm metal of the patrol car. The sun-baked hood seared through her shirt, but the pain only sharpened the anticipation. Eli kicked her legs apart, his hands rough on her hips as he tugged her pants down to her ankles. No underwear—just the practical black panties she wore under the uniform, now yanked aside. Cool air hit her exposed skin, her ass cheeks spreading slightly as she braced herself.

"Look at this," Eli said, palming her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. "Wet as fuck already. You really are a slut for this, aren't you? Begging for it without saying a word."

"Fuck you," she gasped, but it came out weak, needy. Her pussy clenched around nothing, dripping onto the asphalt.

Eli chuckled, lining himself up. His cockhead nudged her entrance, slick with her spit and her own arousal. He didn't ease in—he thrust forward in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Wanda cried out, the stretch burning sweet, filling her completely. He was thick, unyielding, pounding into her with a rhythm that shook the car on its shocks.

"Take it," he growled, his grip on her hair tightening, arching her back. "Take this dick like the degraded bitch you are. This is what you live for—getting fucked raw by some white man."

Each slam drove deeper, his hips slapping against her ass, the sound obscene in the open air. Esmé's hands scrabbled on the hood, fingers curling against the smooth surface as waves of pleasure built. He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in rough circles that made her vision blur. "Come on, Officer Cumpig. Cum on this white cock. Show me how much you need it."

She did, shattering around him with a muffled scream, her pussy clenching and pulsing. Eli didn't stop, fucking her through it, drawing out every tremor until she was a shaking mess. But he wasn't done. He pulled out abruptly, leaving her empty and whining, then flipped her onto her back across the hood. Her legs dangled, pants tangled at her boots, uniform shirt rucked up to expose her bra.

Eli climbed up, straddling her waist, his cock hovering over her stomach. "Not yet," he said, stroking himself. "Turn over. On your stomach."

Wanda obeyed, rolling onto her belly, the metal hot against her cheek. He positioned himself behind her again, but this time he spread her cheeks, teasing her asshole with his thumb. "Ever had it here?" he asked, voice dark. "Bet you'd let me, wouldn't you? Degraded little hole just waiting."

She tensed, breath hitching in her throat. The thought alone sent a sharp jolt through her—fear, anticipation, something she didn’t want to name.

“Do it… please, Sir,” she whispered before she could stop herself, shocked at her own voice.

Eli’s grin widened, slow and satisfied.

“There you go,” he murmured. “You’re learning.”

Eli spat on his fingers, working one into her ass slowly, then two, stretching her. The burn was intense, but she pushed back, craving more. When he replaced them with his cockhead, pressing in inch by inch, Esmé bit her lip to stifle a moan. It hurt, but the fullness was addictive, his degradation echoing in her ears.

"Fuck, so tight," he grunted, bottoming out. He fucked her ass with short, hard thrusts, one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other spanking her cheek. "This is you, Officer Cumpig—ass up, taking it like a whore. No badge can save you now."

The dual ****—his words, the relentless pounding—pushed her over again. She came with a sob, her body convulsing, pussy untouched but clenching in sympathy. Eli followed soon after, pulling out at the last second. Hot ropes of cum splattered across her back, soaking into her shirt, marking her.

He stepped back, zipping up as she lay there, spent and exposed. Wanda pushed herself up slowly, pants still around her ankles, cum cooling on her skin. Eli watched, that same amused grin on his face.

Ortega sat slumped against the side of her patrol car, breathing hard, her blouse clinging to her from sweat. One button had come undone somewhere in the chaos. Her makeup was smeared across her cheeks, streaked in a way she couldn’t hide or explain. She looked shaken, disoriented… broken.

Eli stood in front of her, completely calm.

“Look at you,” he said. “Five minutes ago you thought you were running the show.”

She swallowed hard. “What… what do you mean, sir?”

The word sir slipped out by accident. They both heard it.

Eli’s smirk deepened.

“There it is. Your real voice.”

She looked away, humiliated.

He pulled a small slip of paper from his pocket, scribbled a number on it, and tucked it into the front pocket of her uniform.

“That’s my number,” he said. “You’ll use it. Maybe not tonight. But eventually.”

He shrugged. “People always go back to the place they broke.”

“I—I don’t…” She couldn’t finish.

“You don’t have to understand it now,” Eli replied. “You just have to live with it.”

He stepped back, hands sliding easily into his pockets.

She stared at him, stunned, humiliated, unable to form a single word.

Eli turned away as if he’d already forgotten her, took three steps, then paused — a casual, almost detective-like stop.

“Oh—one more thing,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder.

Ortega flinched, tense and trembling.

Eli snapped his fingers softly. “I finally get it,” he said. “That phrase.”

She blinked, confused. “Wh-what… what do you mean, sir?”

A slow, amused laugh rolled out of him — a laugh that made her chest tighten with a feeling she hated.

“‘Fuck the police,’” he said. “I always thought it was just attitude.”

He shook his head, still smiling.

“But now?” He gestured lazily at her collapsed posture, ruined composure, shaking hands.

“Now we know it’s meant literally.”

Her breath caught. Shame and something darker rippled through her.

Eli grinned, fully satisfied with how completely she had come apart.

He turned away without hesitation, hands sliding into his pockets as if the entire confrontation had been nothing more than a casual conversation to him.

As he walked off, he let out a quiet laugh — sharp, knowing, almost pleased with himself.

Wanda Ortega remained on the asphalt beside her own squad car — shaken, trembling, and horrified by how much a single man had just unraveled her.

And beneath all that fear, a darker truth settled in her chest: she knew she would write to him, call him… and hope he would want to see her again, as soon as possible.

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Author’s Note

The winner of the last poll was Sumi, by a massive margin — she took 55% of all votes, which is honestly wild.

Thank you to everyone who participated!

This chapter was very difficult to write. I really wanted to capture the tension and chaotic dynamic with the police, and I couldn’t resist leaning into the “fuck the police” energy — it was too fitting not to use.

I’ll admit, Ortega’s psychological unraveling didn’t land quite as perfectly as I had hoped in my head, but I still enjoyed exploring that shift in power and how it sets the stage for what’s coming next.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter regardless — and I’m excited to see where Sumi’s storyline goes from here.