Wanna play, officer?

One way ticket to impound. I kept my hand near my holster, watching his fingers drum against the car's sleek frame. His grin widened—too sharp, too knowing—as he pushed off the GT-R and took a slow step forward. "Game? Nah, Officer Vivi. Just admiring the view." His gaze dragged down my uniform, lingering where my belt cinched tight around my waist. The heat in his stare was illegal all on its own.

"Very funny, you're under arrest," I snapped, reaching for my cuffs, but Smoke moved faster—a blur of muscle and arrogance. He caught my wrist, twisting just enough to make me gasp, his breath hot against my ear. "You don’t wanna do that, sweetheart," he murmured, his free hand sliding down to squeeze my hip. "Not unless you want those pretty little patrol car dash cams to catch what happens next." My stomach dropped. I knew exactly what he meant—the rumors about cops who crossed him ending up with their careers ruined, their reputations smeared with footage they couldn’t explain.

He grab a handkerchief before push into, me blocking my mouth and nose. I don't know what he put on it but soon after I lost my conscious. I can feel he drag me inside his car before drove away, but my body can't react anymore.

Once I regain my conscious back, I found myself tied up onto chair. My hand tied backwards and my legs tied up in wide position, rendering me completely helpless. My uniform is torn and disheveled, my bra barely hanging on as he kneels between my thighs, his rough fingers tracing circles on my inner thighs. "Look who's awake," Smoke murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Bet you didn’t think your little traffic stop would end like this, huh?" His fingers dig into my skin, just shy of painful, as he leans in to lick a slow, wet stripe up my neck. The mix of fear and unwanted arousal coils tight in my stomach—I hate how my body betrays me, how my breath hitches despite myself.

"You jerk off to those videos?" Smoke's teeth grazed my earlobe as his hand slid higher, thumb pressing against the damp fabric of my panties. My hips jerked involuntarily—a traitorous twitch that drew a low laugh from him. "Fuck you," I spat, but it came out breathless, shaky. He hooked a finger under the waistband, snapping it against my skin. "Already planning to, Officer." The way he said my rank made it sound filthy, like we were both breaking the law now.

My eye goes wide as I see this camera already set up on tripod, aimed right at the chair. Smoke leans back just enough to tap the red recording light with one knuckle. “Gotta get the angles right,” he murmurs, and my stomach churns when I realize—he’s done this before. His fingers curl into the torn fabric of my blouse, ripping it wider with one sharp tug until the buttons scatter across the floor. The cool air hits my bare skin, and I bite back a whimper when his palm cups my breast, kneading roughly. “Still gonna arrest me?” His thumb flicks over my nipple, and despite the fury burning in my chest, my body arches into his touch.

"Aaahhnnn~!" The moan tore from my lips before I could stop it, my nipples hardening under his cruel fingers. Smoke chuckled, his other hand sliding down to hook into my panties, yanking them aside to expose me completely. "There she is," he taunted, dragging two fingers through my slick folds. "Knew you'd be dripping for me, Officer." The humiliation burned hotter than the pleasure—my body responding even as my mind screamed no.

I wail, my eyes rolling back. The intense mix of pain and pleasure short circuits my brain, my pussy gushingly wet as Smoke’s fingers slide in effortlessly—two at first, stretching me with a slow, filthy curl. He watches my face intently, drinking in every twitch of my lips, every ragged gasp. “Damn,” he mutters, twisting his fingers deeper. “You’re tighter than I thought.” His thumb finds my clit, rubbing tight circles just shy of brutal, and my hips buck wildly against the chair restraints. The wood creaks under my thrashing.

I let out a choked sob, overwhelmed by the relentless pounding. My mind goes blank, consumed by the conflicting sensations—his fingers stretching me ruthlessly while his thumb grinds against my clit, coaxing out slick, embarrassing sounds from between my legs. Smoke exhales sharply against my neck, his free hand gripping my throat—not tight enough to cut off air, just enough to remind me who’s in control. "Fuck, you're clenching like a vice," he growls, adding a third finger, the stretch bordering on painful. My vision whites out for a second, my thighs trembling violently against the ropes.

"But it won't be fun to let you cum so easily," Smoke murmured, withdrawing his fingers abruptly with a wet sound that made my face burn. He stood, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness, watching me squirm against the ropes as his cock sprang free—thick, flushed, already leaking. "Gotta earn it first." He pressed the head against my swollen clit, grinding in slow circles while my hips jerked uselessly, my breath coming in sharp whimpers. The camera's red light blinked steadily, capturing every twitch of my face, every **** arch of my body.

"Aaahhh! So big, nngh—!" The words spilled out before I could **** them back, my cunt clenching around nothing as Smoke dragged the thick head of his cock through my soaked folds. He smirked, gripping my hips to hold me still as he teased me, the heat of him pressing against my entrance without giving me what I craved. "Patience, Officer," he taunted, tracing my slit with the tip until my thighs trembled. "You’ll take every inch—and you’ll fucking thank me for it."

Smoke really didn't hold back, even chair creaking like crazy as he slammed balls-deep in one brutal thrust. The sudden stretch punched a ragged scream outta me—my back arched, my cunt clamping down instinctively around that monstrous thickness. "Fuck!" he grunted, fingers digging bruises into my hips as he bottomed out, letting me feel every pulsing inch. His breath came hot against my neck, amused at how my body convulsed around him. "Told you you'd take it," he murmured, rolling his hips just to hear me whimper.

I tried biting my lip to stay quiet, but he saw right through that shit. One calloused hand wrapped around my throat while the other yanked my head back by the hair, forcing eye contact with the camera's blinking red light. "Nah, let 'em hear you," Smoke growled, pulling out slow just to slam back in hard—the wet slap of skin echoing off the warehouse walls. Tears pricked my eyes as my thighs shook, my traitorous pussy sucking him deeper with every thrust. The bastard chuckled, adjusting his angle to grind against that spongy spot inside that made my toes curl involuntarily.

"FUUUCK!! So deep! Splitting me open!" I wail, eyes rolling back. His thrusts turn erratic—deliberately uneven—keeping me teetering on the edge without release. Smoke’s hand clamps over my mouth as my moans grow louder, muffling the sounds as his hips snap forward with brutal precision. “You love this,” he pants against my ear, his voice rough with exertion. “Dripping all over my cock like a slut in heat.” My muffled protests dissolve into whimpers when his teeth sink into my shoulder, the sharp pain making my cunt clench around him tighter.

After few thrust, he bury himself deep inside me. Even though he wear condom, I can feel it start to bulge inside me like a balloon. Smoke’s breath hitches as he grabs my hips tighter, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Fuck, you’re gonna feel this,” he growls, and before I can react, hot spurts fill the condom, swelling it against my walls until it presses uncomfortably against my cervix. The sensation is overwhelming—too much, too deep—and my legs shake as my own climax crashes over me, my vision blurring at the edges.

He pulled out and take off the condom, it really bulge like a water balloon. Before I can take a breath, he **** my mouth open so he can make me drink his cum. It taste bitter, salty, and thick, making me **** as he watch me swallow every drop with dark satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmured, thumb wiping a stray streak from my chin before shoving it back between my lips. "Now you’re really mine."

SUMMARY^1: Smoke pushes Vivi to the edge with erratic thrusts, covering her mouth to stifle her moans while mocking her arousal. He climaxes inside the condom, making it swell uncomfortably against her cervix, which triggers her own involuntary orgasm. After removing it, he forces her to drink his cum, asserting ownership as she chokes on the bitter taste, praising her submission with dark satisfaction.

The warehouse door creaks open—three silhouettes step in, their laughter rough and knowing. Smoke steps back, tossing the used condom aside as the others circle the chair. "Told you she’d break," he says, lighting a cigarette while one of them runs a hand up my trembling thigh. The camera’s red light blinks steadily as the first stranger grips my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. "Fuck, she’s still tight," someone mutters, fingers probing my sore cunt before shoving inside without warning. I scream, but it’s cut short when another slaps a palm over my mouth, his other hand groping my bruised tits.

They take turns like I’m a party favor—one fucking my mouth while another pounds into me from behind, the chair legs screeching against concrete with every thrust. The third films it all, zooming in on my tear-streaked face when I gag around a cock, on my puffy, used cunt when it’s stretched wide around a stranger’s thickness. "Look at her," Smoke says, blowing smoke rings as my body jolts under their hands. "Officer Vivi, NYPD’s finest." Laughter echoes as someone spills down my throat, the taste making me retch before another replaces him, shoving in deep enough to make my eyes

By the time they’re done, I’m limp in the ropes, dripping from every hole, the warehouse reeking of sweat and sex. Smoke crouches beside me, tilting my chin up to the camera. "Still wanna arrest me?" he asks, tapping the lens. My voice is gone, but my body answers for me—a weak shudder, a fresh trickle of cum down my thigh. He grins. "Didn’t think so." The red light blinks off. But I already know it’s just the beginning.

Luckily it end when the dawn come, they left me behind. Still tied up on the chair with small note, "Keep your mouth shut or you'll goes viral" along with a thumb drive containing edited footage of me moaning and begging for more. My legs tremble as I struggle against the ropes, the cold warehouse air making my sweat-slicked skin prickle. The ache between my thighs is a relentless reminder—I came harder than I’ve ever allowed myself to admit.

After the day, something inside me change. I can't forgive what Smoke done to me but I also can't forget their touches, their scent, their voices. My hands shake when I sign my morning reports—the same hands that clutched at Smoke’s shoulders as he split me open. The precinct coffee tastes bitter, just like his cum, and I catch myself staring at the interrogation room door too long, wondering if he’ll waltz in like he owns the place again.

I told Internal Affairs I lost the dash cam footage from that night—just a malfunction, nothing suspicious. They frown but file it away. Meanwhile, my phone buzzes with an unknown number: a single video attachment. My breath stalls as my thumb hovers over it. The preview frame shows me—mouth slack, eyes glazed—riding Smoke’s cock like my career depends on it. The text below reads: Missed you at lunch, Officer. Next time, wear the cuffs.

"That bastard." My fingers tightened around the phone until the screen cracked, but I couldn't stop watching—couldn't stop the flush creeping up my neck as Smoke’s groans filled the precinct bathroom stall. The video ended with him slapping my ass, the sting still fresh in my memory. When I stepped out, my reflection in the mirror showed lips swollen from biting back moans, not exhaustion like I’d told my partner.

I patrolling around the blocks at my night routine shift, but my mind keep replaying the warehouse—Smoke's hands, the camera's red eye, the way my body betrayed me. My radio crackles with dispatch, snapping me back to reality. Then I see it: a familiar GT-R idling near an alley. My pulse spikes, fingers twitching near my holster. The window rolls down, Smoke's smirk visible in the dim streetlight. "Miss me, Officer?" His voice curls around me like smoke, and my thighs press together instinctively.

"You're under arrest," I hissed, but my voice cracked halfway through, the memory of his cock stretching me raw flashing behind my eyelids. Smoke just chuckled, revving the engine as his gaze dropped to where my fingers trembled near my belt. "Get in," he said, nodding to the passenger seat. "Or should I send that clip to your captain next?" The threat hung between us, thick as the scent of gasoline and his cologne. My feet moved before my brain caught up—the car door clicked shut behind me like a cell door sliding home.

He didn’t drive far—just two blocks to a dimly lit parking garage, the kind where patrols never bothered to check. The second the engine cut, his hand was on my thigh, squeezing just shy of painful. "You watched it," he murmured, fingers creeping higher. "How many times?" I swallowed hard, the lie dying in my throat when he pinched the wet spot already darkening my uniform pants. The camera phone was in his other hand, screen glowing with a paused shot of me arching into his touch. "Don’t," I breathed, but my hips tilted towar his touch.

I let out a choked sob as his hand groped the tits under my uniform, rough fingers pinching my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened. My holster dug into my hip—the gun still loaded, still within reach—but my fingers twitched uselessly at my side instead. Smoke smirked against my neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark as his free hand unzipped my pants. "Tell me you missed this," he growled, shoving two fingers inside me without warning. My back arched off the leather seat, a broken moan escaping as my cunt clenched around him, already slick and shamefully eager.

Just second later, I sucking his BBC on the passenger seat. "Glrk... Glrk... Mmmmph!" The wet sounds filled the car as my lips stretched around Smoke's thickness, his fingers tangled in my ponytail, forcing me deeper with every bob of my head. My spit dripped down his shaft, mixing with precum as he groaned above me—the same arrogant bastard who'd ruined me now reduced to ragged breaths. The taste should've made me gag, but my tongue swirled around the head on instinct, licking up every bitter drop like I was starved for it.

Smoke yanked me off with a wet pop, flipping me onto all fours against the dashboard without bothering to undress me fully—just my pants yanked down to my knees, my blouse shoved up around my waist. The cold leather stuck to my sweaty skin as he tore open another condom wrapper behind me, the sound making my cunt clench. "Fuck, you're dripping already," he muttered, dragging the rubber-covered tip through my folds before slamming in to the hilt. My scream echoed off the garage walls, my fingers scrambling for purchase on the windshield as he set a brutal pace, the GT-R's suspension creaking under our weight.

He fucked me through three condoms—each one dumped on the floorboard after filling it to the brim, my body shuddering through **** orgasms until my thighs trembled. By the fourth, Smoke cursed, rummaging one-handed through the glovebox before shoving me onto my back across the seats. "Outta rubbers," he growled, his bare cock slapping against my swollen clit as my eyes widened. I should've kicked him away. Should've drawn my gun. Instead, my legs hooked around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he bottomed out raw, my broken moan answering the question neither of us needed to ask.

The fifth time he came, it was inside me—hot spurts painting my walls as my back arched off the seat, my own climax ripped from me by the sheer wrongness of it. Smoke collapsed atop me, his teeth sinking into my collarbone as the car reeked of sex and shame. My radio crackled with dispatch static. His phone buzzed with another video notification—this one already filming us.

"FUUUCK!! So deep! Splitting me open!" I wail, eyes rolling back. His thrusts turn erratic—deliberately uneven—keeping me teetering on the edge without release. Smoke’s hand clamps over my mouth as my moans grow louder, muffling the sounds as his hips snap forward with brutal precision. “You love this,” he pants against my ear, his voice rough with exertion. “Dripping all over my cock like a slut in heat.” My muffled protests dissolve into whimpers when his teeth sink into my shoulder, the sharp pain making my cunt clench around him tighter.

The radio static cuts through the haze—my partner’s voice asking for backup three blocks away. Smoke laughs against my sweat-slicked skin, thrusting harder as my body betrays me again, hips bucking to meet each stroke. “Answer him,” he growls, yanking my hair to expose my throat. My trembling fingers fumble for the radio, pressing the button as Smoke slams into me so deep I see stars. “A-All clear,” I **** out, voice cracking as he grinds against my g-spot. The satisfied smirk he wears when my partner signs off makes my stomach twist—both from shame and the coil of heat tightening low in my belly.

He doesn’t stop when he comes this time—just rolls the condom off with a wet snap and shoves back in bare, my gasped protest swallowed by his tongue. The stretch burns now, oversensitive and raw, but my nails dig into his shoulders anyway, pulling him closer. The camera phone lights up beside us, capturing every shudder, every filthy whisper of “That’s it, take it like the fucking badge bunny you are.” I should hate it. I do. But my thighs tremble wider when he angles the lens between our sweat-slicked bodies, showing where his cock disappears into me, glistening with my arousal.

When he finally pulls out, cum drips down my thighs onto the seats—the same seats I’ll have to explain tomorrow. Smoke tucks himself away with infuriating calm, tossing me a stained rag from the floorboard. “Clean up, Officer,” he murmurs, tapping the phone’s screen to show the newest video already saved. “Midnight shift again tomorrow?” The question hangs between us, thick with promise. My throat tightens as I nod, fingers brushing the fresh bruises on my hips. The radio crackles again. This time, I don’t

At days in the office, I can't get Smokes cock out of my mind—the way he filled me, stretched me, owned me. My legs press together under the desk as I replay the garage in my head, my panties dampening with each remembered thrust. Every time the precinct phone rings, my pulse spikes, wondering if it’s him—if he’ll taunt me with another video, another demand.

What I never thought is that he become more braver than before, he disguise himself as janitor and sneaking in only to yank me to janitor closet in precinct. My protest muffled by his hand slamming against my mouth, the bleach-and-mop stench mixing with his cologne as he pins me against the shelves. “Missed you, Officer,” he growls, his other hand already hiking up my uniform skirt. The security camera outside blinks innocently—he disabled it, of course—while his fingers slip under my panties, finding me embarrassingly wet. My hips jerk involuntarily when he strokes my clit, the bastard chuckling against my neck. “Fuck, you’re dripping for me at work?”

"Mmmmph..." My moan holded by another hand while others pumping me in and out, my pussy juices dripping onto the janitor's mop bucket beneath us. Smoke's fingers curled inside me with cruel precision, his thumb grinding against my clit in tight circles that made my knees buckle. The shelves rattled as he shoved me harder against them, his teeth sinking into my shoulder through the fabric of my uniform. "Gonna cum for me right here?" he breathed against my ear, voice thick with amusement. "Where all your little cop friends, eat their lunch?"

"Wait, now is my unsafe day—" I gasped, but his fingers twisted deeper, cutting me off as the shelf dug into my spine. Smoke chuckled darkly against my throat, his free hand unzipping his janitor's jumpsuit just enough to free his cock, already glistening at the tip. "Good," he growled, lifting my leg over his hip with one rough yank before slamming into me bare—no condom, no hesitation. The stretch burned worse than the garage, my nails scraping against the metal shelves as he bottomed out with a groan that vibrated through my ribs.

"AHHH! OH FUCK YES!" I screams, my back bowing off. "So deep, you're so DEEP!". Pinned and skewered, i can only take it as he rail into her relentlessly. My uniform shirt rides up as my breasts bounce freely with each punishing thrust, the precinct's fluorescent light flickering through the cracked closet door. Smoke's hand muffles my moans just enough—until he suddenly removes it, letting my gasps echo off the concrete walls. "Let 'em hear," he grunts, pistoning harder when my cries grow louder, my thighs shaking as my climax builds dangerously fast.

He yanks me off the shelves without warning, spinning me onto my knees amidst spilled cleaning supplies. The cold floor bites into my bare skin as he mounts me from behind, one hand fisting my ponytail while the other slaps my ass—the sharp sting making me yelp before he rams back in. My vision whites out when he finds that spot, my drool dripping onto the mop bucket as my tongue lolls uncontrollably. The camera phone clatters to the floor beside us, still recording my fucked-out expression—eyes rolled back, lips swollen and parted around silent screams.

Suddenly I'm airborne, tossed onto a stack of spare uniforms as Smoke flips me onto my back. My legs hook over his shoulders instinctively, his smirk the last thing I see before he drives in at a new angle, the head of his cock grinding against my cervix with every thrust. My mouth falls open in a soundless wail, hands scrabbling at nothing as my orgasm detonates—body convulsing so violently the uniforms scatter around us. Smoke doesn't slow, using my twitching cunt mercilessly until my eyes glaze over completely, tears streaking through my smudged makeup.

When he finally spills inside me, it's with my ankles locked behind his neck, his teeth buried in my thigh as he pumps wave after wave of cum into my unprotected depths. The closet reeks of sex and bleach, my ruined uniform crumpled beneath us as Smoke pulls out with a wet pop, watching his release drip down my trembling thighs. He tucks the camera phone into my duty belt with a pat. "Next time," he murmurs, adjusting his janitor's disguise, "we'll use the interrogation room." My spent body can't even shudder—just lies there, slack and dripping, as the door clicks shut behind him.

Few days after it, I buy a test pack and use it at apartment's bathroom. The minutes stretch like hours, my knuckles white around the sink’s edge. Two pink lines. My reflection blurs—partly from steam, partly from the memory of Smoke’s cum dripping out of me in the precinct closet. The phone buzzes on the counter: an unknown number, a video thumbnail showing my legs splayed open in the screen

My life's ruined, I'm who previously a police officer who want to make this city better now nothing more than a slut who's pregnant with son of bastard who **** me. My finger trembles as I trace the faint bruises still circling my thighs—proof of how easily he bends me over any available surface. The phone buzzes again, this time with coordinates and a timestamp: midnight, the same abandoned warehouse where it all began.

The warehouse smells like rust and old gasoline, same as before, but now there's a mattress in the center—stained and sagging, waiting. Smoke leans against a support beam, rolling a cigarette between his fingers as I step into the dim light. "Took you long enough, Officer," he drawls, but his gaze drops to my stomach before I can speak. His smirk falters for half a second—just long enough for me to know he's surprised.

I yank my badge from my pocket and hurl it at his feet, the metal clattering across concrete. "I quit," I spit, but my voice cracks when his fingers twitch toward his belt. My knees weaken at the sight, my body reacting before my brain catches up—nipples pebbling under my thin shirt, breath hitching as he steps closer. "And?" he prompts, tilting my chin up with the tip of his boot. The truth spills out in a shuddering rush: "I can't stop thinking about your cock. About you pinning me down, filling me up—"

His boot presses harder against my throat before I finish, forcing me onto my back atop the mattress. "And this?" he growls, palming my swelling belly through my shirt. I arch into his touch, legs spreading shamelessly as he unbuttons my jeans. "Mine," he declares, shoving them down my hips. The camera's red light winks from the corner as he mounts me, his breath hot against my ear: "Prove it."

I don't wait for permission—just hook my ankles behind his back and grind up against his cock, the rough denim of his jeans teasing my slick folds through my ruined panties. "Fuck me raw like last time," I demand, nails raking down his chest. Smoke's grin turns feral as he rips the fabric aside, sheathing himself in one brutal thrust that punches a moan from my lungs. "Louder," he orders, slamming my hips down onto the mattress with each snap of his pelvis.

The warehouse echoes with the sounds of skin slapping skin, my cries bouncing off rusted metal as I claw at his shoulders. "Harder—ah!—just like that, fuck!" I babble, my heels digging into his ass as he pistons into me. Smoke's hand clamps over my mouth when my volume rises too high, but I bite down on his fingers, tasting blood and gunpowder as my orgasm rips through me. He follows with a groan, pumping me full until I feel it leaking down my thighs.

Pulling out, he drags me onto all fours by my hair—the camera catching every angle as I arch my back, presenting my dripping cunt like a bitch in heat. "Say it," he rasps, smearing his cum across my lips. I lick it clean with a whimper: "Yours." His phone buzzes with a new message—the video already sent to an encrypted server. The warehouse door creaks open behind us. More footsteps. More laughter. My trembling fingers reach back to spread myself wider.

Meanwhile, at the precinct, Captain Reynolds slams his fist on the desk. "Third officer this month—vanished." My old partner flips through my personnel file, frowning at the empty apartment address. The break room TV plays blurred security footage—a familiar GT-R peeling away from the warehouse district. No one notices the handprint on the passenger window, fingers splayed against the glass like a plea—or a promise.

Back in the mattress-strewn loft above Smoke’s garage, I kneel naked by the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights twinkling below like evidence markers. His crew films me sucking his cock while uniformed cops patrol the street three stories down, oblivious. Someone tosses my old badge onto the pile with the others—seven silver shields glinting in the red light. Smoke fists my hair, thrusting deeper down my throat. "Welcome to the gang, Officer." The title drips with irony now, just like the cum dripping down my chin.

When dawn breaks, my swollen belly presses against the cold glass as Smoke marks my shoulders with fresh bites. The precinct’s morning roll call crackles over a discarded radio—my name called, then marked absent. Again. His teeth find my nipple as the camera keeps rolling. Somewhere, a detective sighs, closing my missing persons file. Somewhere closer, I moan, arching into the hands that ruined me. The shutter clicks. The red light blinks. The game goes on.