By ty dehner

Most evenings, with winter setting in, I walk back from Starbucks as darkness falls. I enjoy my few hours at Starbucks working on my writing and sometimes exploring new music and movies that are going to be released. On my walk home I pass by the city police stations and often see them coming and going to their patrol cars. A few of them look damn handsome in their dark uniform, and now that it is colder they wear their jackets over their shirts and heavy Kevlar vests. Sure I have a few thoughts of how I would like to serve a Cop Boss one day. I need that type of structure and control in my life, and I have a feeling there are several that would keep me well under their control.

Tonight is a wet night as the lights from the building shine on the slick pavement, and as I approach the station one of the patrol cars pulls into the driveway just as I am making my way toward it. The officer stops in my path as I am crossing the driveway on the sidewalk. He rolls down his window, and before me is this fucking hot Cop, probably around mid 40s, close cropped dark hair and a salt and pepper goatee. His gloved hand is on the steering wheel as he turns to me.

“Hey there, you need to get yourself some rain gear!”

I stop next to the patrol car and say, “I think about it but just never get around to getting it. Thanks for the suggestion, Sir.”

He chuckles, “No I don’t think you understand. I’m ordering you to get some rain gear.”

This takes me aback. I hesitate a while forming my response. “Oh, you know where I can get some that would meet to your approval, Sir?”

“Let me park this and meet me over there.” His other gloved hand points to an open parking spot.

“Yes, Sir.”

He pulls forward, and I make my way over to where he parks. Climbing out of his patrol car, his heavy cop boots plant themselves on the slick pavement, and I hear the leather of his duty belt creek and notice the weight of all the gear he has on. He locks the door of his vehicle and makes his way to the door on the side of the station. He stops and turns, looking at me with a questioning look.

I realize I am to follow him.

We enter the building, and there is no one else in there this evening. Without a word he goes down one of the halls, and soon we are entering the locker room of the station.

“Stop and wait here,” he commands.

I do so as he goes behind some of the lockers. Shortly he comes back with a high-vis jacket. He hands it to me, and I admire it.

“Fuck, don’t admire it, shithead, put it on!”

Quickly I drop my backpack on the bench and take off my fleece sweat jacket. Then I put on the high-vis jacket, and it fits well.

“Look in the pocket.”

I do and find a pair of medium-weight leather Cop gloves with high-vis strips on them. I know I should just put them on. As I do I look over at this Cop, and he seems even more powerful than when he was sitting in the car. His uniform covers him completely, his jacket down to his leather-gloved hands.

He steps over to me and zips up the jacket and hands me my backpack. I slip it on. He reaches behind him and hands me a knit cap that has the department logo on the front of it.

“Much better,” he says as I put the cap on.

He points toward the door and he takes me back outside the station.

“I better see you in this every time you walk by, you got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiles.

“Sir, thank you.”

He reaches over and pats my head like a little boy. With that he goes back into the station and slams the door.

What the fuck just happened? I stand there in the light rain in a cop high-vis jacket, gloves and cap. And I realize I am fucking hard. I pause wondering what to do, then I start my trek back home.

I walk to my local Starbucks to work on my writing several times in the next week. Never see the Cop. Then one evening when I am walking home he pulls into the drive just as I am approaching. He stops and rolls down his window.

“Those sneakers look pretty shitty on you, you need to be wearing real boots!”

I look down at my Adidas that aren’t that old and look at the Cop.

“Yes, Sir.”

He points to down the drive with his leather-gloved hand, and I follow as he continues down and parks next to the same entrance into the station as he did before. He gets out of car, taking his keys from his duty belt and opens the door. I enter first as his gloved hand reaches up on my neck and leads me in. It is a gentle but powerful touch as the cool leather warms as he steers me through the halls.

We end up in the locker room again, and he instructs me to take off my backpack and place it on the bench. He gives me a short tutorial on how to stand at attention and “at ease.” He then has me stand at ease with my gloved hands resting behind my back. He goes behind the lockers and returns with a used pair of black leather cop boots. These are lace-up type with heavy soles. While used, they are in good condition with a nice shine on.

Without a word he pushes them into my chest, and I know I am meant to put them on. I sit on the bench and as I do he shoves me off onto the floor.

“You earn the bench, shithead.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I then work my Adidas off and slide my right foot into the first boot. But it is stopped by something in the boot. I reach in and pull out two pairs of black work socks.

“I’ve been wearing those for a few weeks for you. You will always wear those socks with your boots. They are not to be washed, ever!”

“Yes, Sir.”

I take off the socks I was wearing and put on the one pair of cop socks then slide on the boots. I lace them up tight. Then stand as my jeans go over the top of the boots. I return to the at-ease position, and the cop stands before me.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Fucking welcome, shithead. You are to wear those always.”

He grabs my Adidas sneakers and drops them in a metal trash barrel with the socks I was wearing.

“Don’t you think you should thank me, shithead?”

I look at him and reply, “Thank you very much, Sir!”

He just stares at me. Then I realize he wants me to kneel at his boots. I kneel down and kiss the toe of his boots, then start to lick them.

“Fucking well done, shithead.”

I take my time licking the toe of his boot and smelling the leather and his uniform trouser leg brushing against my shaved head. There is a shine starting to develop as I press my tongue harder on the leather. He slowly bends down and grabs my head with his gloved hand and has me move up, licking the laces of his boot and using my nose to lift his pant leg. I work my way into the crevasses of the laces and leather at times finding pieces of dirt and grime between them. It gets more difficult as I work my tongue around the back side of his right boot. My leather-gloved hands are supporting me on the concrete floor. Soon he presses his left boot on my back, and I am forced lower on the floor as my belly goes down and I become a boot-licking worm.

As I finish his right boot his toe lifts my head up, and he switches to his left boot and puts his right boot back on my back. As I lick his left boot, I can hear the voices on his radio with a communication between the cops and dispatch. For some reason this boot is a bit muddy, and I work harder to clean it. My mouth is getting dry working all this leather.

He pushes me across the floor some and has me get up on all fours. Then he crosses his right boot on his left knee and shoves his dirty sole into my face. I hesitate.

“Fuck, I give you a pair of cop boots and you won’t lick my soles? What sort of fucking ungrateful faggot are you?”

His gloved hands grab my head, and I am shoved into this soles. I start licking the real dirt and grime that is between the lugs on the sole. It takes all the spit I have to keep my tongue moist to work this dirt off. Slowly his glove hands caress my head and a few times he takes on and covers my nose to take in the well-used leather Damascus gloves that he wears on his hands. Who know how many times he’s frisked someone, or punched them with those gloves. They are snug and no doubt he uses them to gracefully cuff a thief while slammed against the wall.

I am lost in my thoughts and cleaning his soles when he quickly pulls my head back and stands. His right gloved hand reaches down and lifts me by my chin until I am standing. I put my gloved hands behind my back.

He points to the exit and leads me again with his hand on my neck to the exit and out to the parking lot.

After I exit, he slams the door behind me and I take a moment to feel the boots that I am wearing, as well as the cop gloves, cap and jacket. Just what the fuck is going on here?

I walk up out of the parking lot and head home.

Another week or so goes by, and I haven’t seen the cop during my walks to and from Starbucks. The days are starting to get longer, so it isn’t so dark making the walk. It is a really nice day today as I make my walk and find a nice quiet corner spot to set up my computer. After dropping my backpack and jacket and gloves I go to the counter to place my order. There is a line of three others so I start my app and wait to be next. I am not paying attention but I notice a jiggle and the creaking sound of leather that sounds familiar. I look up from my app, and behind me is the cop, in his uniform and full duty gear. He smiles at me.

“Hello, Sir.”

He gently puts his gloved hand on my shoulder and squeezes, showing his power over me.

“Order me an Americano, tall.”

I am a bit surprised by his command, as he walks away and sits in a chair at the table that has my gear.

I get both our drinks and return to my spot, handing the coffee to the cop and taking my seat. He takes a sip and looks me over.

“How you liking that cop gear you have been granted?”

“It is amazing, I could have never thought of being given the honor to wear such stuff.”

He gets a grin, “Yea, I knew that about you.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small package. He slides it across the table to me. “Go in the head and put this on, then come back. We have some things to discuss.”

“What is it, Sir?”

“Just go put it on, now.”

I grab it and head to the men’s room. After entering and locking the door I open the package and find a plastic chastity device. It doesn’t have a lock. I drop my pants as my cock gets hard and look at the device to figure out how it goes on. I slowly work it on as I try to get soft so that it will fit. I don’t shave down there, so it takes a while to get it on without pulling all the hairs on my crotch and balls. But I do get it on and together, pulling up my underwear and pants. I wash my hands and head back to the Cop.

He is sitting at the table and has an evil grin when I return. As I sit, I feel the device settle on my cock and balls with a little bit of pain. The cop laughs.

“You noticed I didn’t have you lock it, yet. Tonight we’ll be shaving you down there and take care of that.”

I notice he said “tonight.”

He places a pair of Damascus leather gloves on the keyboard of the computer.

“You are to wear those when you’re not wearing your walking gloves.”

I pick them up and can smell the leather. Eagerly I put them on and test out typing.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You are to leave here in 45 minutes and take your normal path home. I will be watching you.”

He stands and takes a final sip of his coffee, then turns and leaves.

Fuck, that makes my heart race and my dick try to grow in the cage that I just put on!

Needless to say, I can’t focus on my writing after he leaves and am watching the time way too closely as it drags. That is one of the most evil things to do to someone, give them a clue and a time.

But the time does come and I pack up my gear, put my jacket and hat on, and then take off the leather gloves to put on my walking gloves. Everything is zipped up, backpack on and I head out. My path takes me past the police station and into a lightly traveled area of the village. Just then there is the whoop of the siren and the flashing lights. I turn around to see a cop car coming up behind me and parking. It is the Cop and he gets out, walks right up to me, grabs me by the shoulder and slams me against his car. In no time he has me cuffed, well frisked and stuffed into the back seat of his car. He has me lying face down on my chest and he uses zip ties to bind my feet and then bind the cuffs to my feet in a hog tie. He slams the door shut then comes around to the other door at my head and puts a heavy leather bag over my head.

Without a word he slams the door, returns to his position in the drivers seat and drives off.

Metal would like to thank ty dehner for this brand new, original story!