Shield : Wank Wednesday

It's Wank Wednesday again as hosted by Ruby Kiddell at The Erotic Notebook. Here is how she explains it :

Welcome to week eight of Wank Wednesday, your weekly festival of smut. 

With so many great writers of smut and erotica on Twitter and the web I thought it would be a nice idea to get a smutty blog carnival going. For writers or would be writers a weekly prompt will get you writing and as a reader well you’ll be able to get your fix of sexy stories all in one go.

To join in all you need to do is write a story with the weekly prompt as a title. This week’s prompt is #Shield. Then:

• Blog it – post it on your blog then come back here and add it to the link list.

• Tweet it – write it on twitter using the prompt hashtag and the #wankwednesday hashtag

• Add it – if you don’t want to blog or tweet it then please do add it as comment to my post

• WE it – if you are a member at Word Ejaculation you can submit with them too, just remember to link back to me here and to add your entry to the link list.

Please link back to this page in your post and please also do take the time to read and comment on the other contributors, we’ll all keep on writing but it is so much nicer to do so with feedback.

Thank you for writing and reading.

Shield

“Fuck the IMF!” screamed a female voice and almost simultaneously a flaming Molotov cocktail crashed into my riot shield, exploding into a multitude of fragments. Gunther, my trusty partner, whipped out his fire extinguisher and hosed down the fiery debris.

“They really mean business today,” he commented, surveying the crowd of several hundred rioters who were overturning cars, throwing bricks through shop windows and pelting us with anything that came to hand.

“Passionate about their beliefs,” I pointed out. “You have to give them credit for that. Respect for our safety and other people’s property perhaps not as high a priority for them as it should be, that I grant you, but spirted, that they are.”

The girl who threw the cocktail was coming at us full pelt now, head down like a charging rhino. She was a slim girl in skin-tight black jeans, a black windcheater and a black balaklava.

“Fascist cunt pigs!” she shrieked, kicking my shield so hard that I fell back into a crouching posture.

“O.K. That’s it!” I screamed. “It’s the tazer for you, you little shit!” Down she went, jerking and twitching uncontrollably. “Cuff her, Gunth.”

Three minutes later the three of us were back in our squad car.

“How did you know it was me?” chuckled Patty, when I pulled off her balaclava. Nobody recovers from a tazering as quickly as my Patty.

“Your unerring accuracy with a Molotov Cocktail is unique amongst that uncoordinated rabble,” I pointed out.

“You aren’t actually going to take me in, are you?” she asked.

“Of course not,” I replied. “They’d only keep you in jail overnight. I know how riots make you horny and I don’t want you getting hot and heavy with one of those ugly female prison guards.”

“They aren’t all ugly you know,” she smiled evilly. “Neither are all of the other inmates. Jail time has its fringe benefits.”

“Exactly the reason you are going to be under house arrest tonight. That way I can punish you properly for smashing the front window of Harrods with that brick,” I pointed out.

“Oh, you saw that,” she said, trying to look contrite and failing miserably.

“Yes, I saw that,” I replied. “And so will everyone who watches the BBC news tonight. I’m just lucky you were wearing a balaklava otherwise I would have to take you in.”

“And you are lucky that he has me wrapped around his little finger,” replied Gunther.

“He doesn’t dob me in for protecting my girlfriend from criminal charges, and I don’t dob him in for selling dope cookies at the local retirement home,” I explained.

I didn’t lock her in or cuff her to the bed. What if there were a fire? I knew she would be there when I got home.

“O.K. Little Miss Riot Girl,” I addressed her forcefully as I entered the apartment still dressed in my full uniform, “now I’m going to make you pay for your anti-social behaviour.”

“Oink! Oink! Oink! That’s all I heard, Mr. Piggy,” she responded insolently. She was dressed in her old fashioned prison stripe pajamas, laying back on the bed watching TV.

I threw my leg over her and began unbuttoning her pajama top.

“Dirty pig, just wants to see my tits,” she smiled wickedly, and then spat in my face.

“You little bitch!” I yelled, yanking down her bottoms to reveal a bald pussy and an A for anarchism symbol where her pubes had once been.

“Fuck this, Porky Pig!” she taunted, grabbing her crotch.

“Oh, I intend to, honey!” I sneared. “Just you wait. But first we have to go through proper prison induction procedure. Starting with de-lousing.” With that I picked up a container of talcum powder and started shaking it all over her naked body. The clouds of powder that rose from her breasts went up her nose and she started sneezing uncontrollably.

Then I dragged her to her feet and pulled her into the bathroom.

“We have to make sure you aren’t trying to bring any naughty substances in with you,” I explained as I bent her over and pulled her butt cheeks wide apart. By now she was no longer resisting. The softness of her warm bum cheeks in my hands caused my cock to become rock hard in my pants as I stared at her cute pink bumhole. “It looks all clear to the naked eye,” I decided, but just to be sure I stuck out my tongue and licked all around her hole. “One more test to be sure,” I added, sliding the middle finger of my right hand as far as it would go into the saliva-lubricated passage. “Just as I thought,” I concluded, “nothing up there.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I think you gave up too easily. You’re cock is longer than your finger.”

“My cock doesn’t come into it, young lady,” I scolded her, slapping her hard on the ass.

“It would if you fucked my bottom with it,” she replied, turning around and poking her tongue out at me.

“Now I have to check you haven’t got anything secreted in your vaginal cavity,” I informed her. “Sit on the counter and spread yourself wide open.”

She did as she was told. Her pussy was sopping wet, her creamy juices dribbling down onto the counter.

“See, there’s nothing in here,” she told me, shoving two of her fingers as far as they would go into her juicy depths. She then started sliding them in and out and rubbing her stiff clit with her other hand.

“Masturbating is stictly forbidden!” I yelled. “Except after light’s out.”

“But I always feel like wanking my wet little pussy when I see a police officer in his uniform,” she pouted. “Especially one with a big truncheon like yours,” she added, stroking the front of my trousers.

“The next step is the shower,” I responded, trying to maintain some kind of discipline. I turned on the shower and shoved her under it.

“Ah, FUCK!!!!!!” she yelled. “It’s fuckin’ cold!!!”

“A cold shower is just what little sluts like you need,” I pointed out.

The next thing I knew she’d dragged me under the water with her.

“Ah, FUCK!!!!!!” I yelled. “It’s fuckin’ cold.”

“I told you so,” she replied, turning on some of the hot.

It wasn’t long before we were back on the bed. I’d had to take off my wet clothes, so now we were both naked. And the fact that my cock was doing its patent impersonation of Nelson’s Column didn’t exactly help me to maintain the dignity I’d had when my uniform was on. But I still had the upper hand. In fact my left hand was pushing into Patty’s back as my right hand spanked her bottom. 

“Ouch! That hurts!” she cried.

“Of course it hurts, Little Miss Che Guevara!” I replied. “It wouldn’t be much of a deterrent if it didn’t.”

“Police brutality! Police brutality!” she cried.

Eventually, I got kind of tired though, and my hand got sore.

“You know what?” I whispered in her ear.

“What?” she sniffled, wiping a tear from her eye.

“I take bribes,” I admitted.

“What kind of bribes,” she wanted to know.

“Well, just the other day I caught a naughty girl who was throwing Molotov Cocktails and I let her go in return for a blow job,” I told her.

“You did?!?” she replied. “That’s very corrupt of you.”

“Yes,  I know,” I admitted. “I’m a very bad man.”

“I think you’re the one who belongs on the inside,” she informed me. “On the inside of my pussy.”

I licked the index finger of my left hand and slid it right up inside her warm clinging butthole as my cock entered her juicy wet cunt. I held her left bum cheek, still warm and tender from the spanking, in my right hand as I fucked her long and slow.

“Mmmmm. Pleasure me with your perfect prick, Porky Pig,” she sighed.

“Shut up or suffer more spankings you sedicious Socialist slut,” I whispered tenderly in her ear.

Eventually we came together in a paroxism of pleasure.

“So where are you rioting tomorrow?” I asked casually.

“Ah, now that’s for me to know and you to find out, isn’t it?” she replied, pinching my cheek playfully.

The End