Training the Sergeant – Part 5

By lthr_jock

When his alarm clock went off, Davis batted at it with one hand and rolled out of bed. He put his head in his hands as it pounded with a headache caused by lack of sleep. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he did last night. He knew he had had an appointment, he knew he had been drinking, but he couldn’t remember where or who with. He sat on the end of his bed and then with a deep breath stood up. His cock was bobbing before him with his usual morning wood, held up and in place by the studded leather cock and ball strap.

He walked to the shower and removed the strap and left it on the side as he stepped into the stream of hot water and lathered himself all over.   As he soaped up his hairy body, he enjoyed the feel of his hands running over his muscles. They were clearly growing and he flexed experimentally, enjoying the way they bulged and moved under his hands. His cock enjoyed it too, and with a few lathery strokes, he soon shot a load of cum against the shower wall. He grunted with pleasure and finished his shower. After he towelled dry, he grabbed the cock and ball strap and strapped it back in place, locking his cock into its semi-proud state.

He walked back into his bedroom and took a freshly pressed uniform out of the wardrobe. He grunted as he pulled the shirt on. It was tighter than a few weeks ago, and as he looked at himself in the mirror, he liked the way it showed his muscles off. His duty trousers were the same, his thighs stretching the material. He noticed that the cloth around his arse looked slightly baggy – as if he had lost weight in that area. He also noted that his belt tightened an extra notch. If this continued he might have to get new uniform trousers. In fact, he mused, might be worth getting some new trousers tailored to show himself off better. He zipped the trousers up, his cock making an obvious bulge in the front.

He put on his uniform belt and headed out to his car. As he drove to work, he mused on what had happened last night. He pulled into the precinct car park and shrugged – didn’t matter, now time for work. Davis headed into the locker room and exchanged greetings with some of his shift. He completed his uniform on and headed in for briefing.

By halfway through the morning, Davis had forgotten the night before as he was swamped by calls. He alternated between radio, computer and phone as he ran the response to incidents. He then opened up an email and what he saw made him stop short. The email had a photo of himself, Davis – clad in a leather uniform, collared, ball-gagged and handcuffed. He looked to see where the email had come from – the sender was anonymous. He deleted the email and sat back, sweating – who sent that? And what the hell was happening? He had no memory of wearing that uniform, but the photo definitely looked like him.

A second email arrived. A repeat of the first photo, this time with a message: “You enjoyed yourself last night. Delete this email, and your whole precinct gets a copy.” He stopped, his finger poised over the delete key.   He gnawed at his lower lip, undecided and then a third email arrived. This had no photo, just a message: “Good. Now, if you value your job, lower your blinds and lock your office door.” Davis looked through the windows of his office at the precinct floor. Clearly someone was watching him, but he couldn’t see anyone doing anything other than working. He stood up and lowered the blinds over each window, plunging his office into cool darkness. He then locked the door and sat back in front of his computer.

The fourth email arrived quickly. “Excellent. Doesn’t it feel good to obey orders?” For some reason, Davis did feel good, and he nodded. The emails then came quickly – almost as though he was having a conversation with the computer.

“Good. Now drop your trousers.”

Davis looked around. No one could see in, so he took off his duty belt and then undid the thick leather belt holding his trousers up. He peeled them down past his thick muscled thighs and his cock sprang out, the strap still holding it in place.

“I see you like this. Stroke it.”

Davis nervously looked at the door. He wrapped his meaty right hand around his cock and started to slowly stroke. He knew what he was doing was ridiculous, but he could not risk that photo being sent out. He soon had his cock leaking precum from the tip.

“Stop now. Trousers back on.”

David groaned and forced his cock back inside his trousers. The bulge it made was now far larger, and would be obvious to anyone who saw it.

“There is a package for you at the front desk. Go and get it.”

“Wait — I can’t.” Davis realised he was talking to a computer and went to his office door. He paused and then went back and picked up a folder. He would look a bit odd, but could carry it to cover his crotch. He went back and unlocked the door and as he went to open it, he heard the ping of an email arriving. He sighed and went to check it.

“Good try. Put the folder down and get the package. If you don’t have the package in three minutes, I send the photo.”

He sighed and put the folder. He stopped inside the door and took a deep breath. Steeling himself, he strode out into the precinct. He was aware of everyone around him and for a few moments, it seemed he would get away with it. Then he saw an officer catch sight of his crotch and do a double take. Then another. Davis started to blush and walked faster. As he was about to leave the precinct room, he was stopped by PC Daughtry.

“Hi Sarge, I just need some advice on this case…” Daughtry started a long recitation of detail on a domestic he was covering. Davis sneaked a look at his watch – one minute. He tried to look interested as Daughtry carried on describing the situation in minute detail – two minutes. Daughtry continued oblivious – two minutes 30 seconds.

“Damn it, Daughtry, just arrest him,” Davis barked in Daughtry’s face and then strode off down the corridor, moving into a run to get to the front desk in time. Behind him he could hear Daughtry. “OK, OK, Sarge, but err, he’s the victim.”

Davis charged down the corridor and reached the front desk with seconds to spare. On the desk, he could see a large package. “Is that for me?”

“Yes, Sarge, it…” the officer trailed off as Davis grabbed it and stalked back in the direction of his office. The package was heavier than he expected, and he was sweating by the time he got back to his office.   He dumped the package on his desk and re-locked his door. The message was already on his computer.

“Close one. Daughtry doesn’t realise how close he came to getting a photo sent to him. Now. Follow my instructions very carefully. Send an email to PC Fletcher but put a time delay of 15 minutes on it. Once you send it, unlock your office door and strip naked. Then open the package and put on everything you find inside it. If you fail to be fully dressed by the time Fletcher gets to your office, the photo will be sent.”

Davis gaped at the screen – what the hell was Fletcher to do with all this? He sighed – he didn’t have any choice.   In any case, on some level he was enjoying this. Davis typed the email for Fletcher and put it on time delay. He hit send, then unlocked his door and started to strip. His usual neat manners went out the window as he had no idea how much gear was in the parcel. He threw everything behind the desk, out of sight and then turned to face the computer. There, filling his screen was himself, naked, facing the camera. Somehow, someone was using his webcam.

Davis had no time to try and stop them watching. He ripped open the top of the package and started to pull out the items inside. He lifted out a mass of leather strap and chrome buckles. He shook it out and wondered what it was. Under it was a piece of paper, showing how it went on and describing it as a Slave Harness. Davis looked at the picture, picked it up from the shoulder straps and then started to clamber into it. In a couple of minutes he was stood, cock strapped and erect in front of him and his pecs, stomach and shoulder encircled by thick leather straps and chrome rings in the centre of his chest and back and over his navel. A handful of padlocks came next, and he locked them on to the harness, securing it on his body.

Davis looked at the computer, and the sight of himself in the harness made his cock harden further. Next was a familiar couple of items – a thick leather collar and a ball gag. He pulled the ball gag on and strapped it in place. He soon found that the collar was thick and held his head rigid, with his head pointed up slightly. He pulled it on and then padlocked both in place. He looked at his watch – seven minutes left.

Next he pulled out an orange prison jumpsuit. This went on easily and he secured it up the front. The image of himself now looked like a convict except for the ball gag and collar. Next combat boots came out. He had problems getting them on, as the thick collar made it tricky, but he got them on. Four minutes left.

There were two items left. The first was a regulation set of prisoner transport shackles – a thick leather waist belt, handcuffs attached to the front and a chain hanging down from it with ankle shackles on the end. Davis pulled the waist belt around himself and strapped it in place. He then bent down and secured the ankle shackles. Before he put the handcuffs on, he pulled the last item out – a black canvas headbag. Davis realised he couldn’t get that on once the handcuffs were on. He glared at the webcam and the image of himself he could see in it. Even though the jumpsuit was baggy, his erection was clearly visible.

Davis had no choice. With one minute to go, he pulled the headbag over his head, sending himself into darkness. He then reached down and secured the handcuffs around his wrists. He stood there, gagged, restrained and helpless. Unseen by him, the image of a prisoner on the computer screen was replaced by a countdown – 5,4,3,2,1. As it hit zero, the email screen was sent and the message, “High security prisoner awaiting transport in Sgts office,” was sent to PC Fletcher.

Davis stood there for what seemed like an age until he heard a tap at the door. “Sarge?” he heard Fletcher’s voice outside his office. “Sarge, I got a prisoner to collect.” There was a pause and then the door opened.

“Sarge? Guess the Sarge had to go out. Well, my orders are clear. You’re going to Blueridge for psychological evaluation.” Davis felt Fletcher grab him by the left elbow. “Don’t give me any trouble, buddy.”

Fletcher led Davis out of the office and down to the garage. As far as everyone was concerned, Fletcher was transporting a prisoner. No one suspected it was their own Sergeant being led away.

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Metal would like to thank the author, lthr_jock, for allowing this story to be posted here. If you enjoyed it be sure to leave a comment in the comments section!

Copyright © 2015 and 2017 by lthrjock.

All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.



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