Cobra Crew: Preemptive Strike Ch. 02

Cammy decided to take full advantage of her good fortunes. In seconds, she placed the pocket-sized camera on the windows ledge to record all the action in high-definition. She fiddled with the zoom until the faces of the two high-ranking cops were crystal clear on the screen.

It was like watching muted porn -- but live, Cammy thought as her heartbeat quickened. The masked woman licked her own chops as her eyes followed the Commander's hand brushing over the Lieutenant's smooth legs, caressing her bare thigh, until his palm disappeared under her robe.

Samantha gasped and shuffled abruptly, no doubt reacting to his invasive touches. She swung her right leg around him, giving him more access to her ass. He snarled in pleasure, and his other hand latched on to her other butt cheek as well. As she arched forward to lean into his chest, his hands emerged to stroke her waist, and up her sides. Those busy hands lingered over her impressive set of tits, squeezing passionately through her thin cotton robe, until Samantha's nubs became visible through her clothing.

As the Commander's hungry lust manifested itself on the lovely Lieutenant, Cammy observed Samantha's growing attempts to squirm away from the towering senior cop, but he had her trapped. Samantha put up a warm smile on her face and said something to him, but he showed little interest in conversation. She bit her lips when he tugged on the silvery sash and jerked the two halves of her robe down her shoulders -- with authority.

He took a step back to admire her hot, curvaceous body, covered only by the thinnest, most see-through lingerie Cammy had ever seen. The rosy, sheer lace barely came up to the bottom half of her full breasts, and hid little of her pink, erect nipples. The expensive-looking teddy flowed like a mini-skirt just below her dainty waist, where Samantha's choice of underwear was an itty-bitty triangle of the same transparent material, barely held in place by a spaghetti-thin band.

The State Police Commander nodded his appreciation and rewarded her with a slow, deliberate sweep between her legs, at first pressing the G-string against her mound, before navigating around the fabric to explore her soft, brown bush. Cammy's breaths quickened at the sight of the female cop -- her eyes closed, crying out in pleasure.

The Lieutenant opened her eyes to find his fingers inches from her face. They were sticky and coated with her own juices. He took a lick and offered them to her.

"Suck it" The words out of his mouth were spoken so slowly, Cammy had no trouble reading lips. When Samantha hesitated, his left hand came up and roughly wrapped itself around her delicate neck. "Do it" He glared at her. She gasped in surprise before her lips curled themselves into an 'O' shape to accept his digits.

Despite her eagerness to please him, the Commander did not relax his grip, even as she groaned in protest. When he finally let go of her throat, it was done so he could slide her robe to the ground. He growled as he felt her up through the sexy teddy, savagely massaging each of her meaty globe. The medium blonde moaned as he went after her nipples, rolling each between his thumb and forefinger, tightening his grip with varying degree, and grinned as his fingers muffled her cries.

He leaned in and snarled something in her ear. The Lieutenant showed clear hesitation, even pleading with her eyes. But the Commander simply stared at her until she nodded. Everette was grinning ear to ear as he pulled out his handcuffs from the leather pouch, and she reluctantly offered her wrists to him. He leered with lust as he snapped the steel restraints on her.

What's with these cops and their kinky games? Cammy shook her head. She recalled the lava-hot video of the Lieutenant, being dominated in the back of a police van by her Captain for a full thirty minutes. Their role-play of a prisoner overpowering his guard was unmistakable. In the video, Samantha was in full police uniform and bound in a number of positions with police-issued metal restraints. That recording was by far the Crew's favourite, as the scenes evoked vivid memories of their own games with the two Sheriff's Deputy hostages.

Samantha shut her eyes again as her bound wrists went down to her pussy. Her legs spread further at his command, and she began to touch herself lewdly as he looked on. Not satisfied with her pace, he grabbed her fingers and guided them up her cunt more aggressively. He barked at her again, and she made a show of sliding the pair of G-string down her legs -- not a simple task given the metal restraints.

He pointed at her again. Her face was beet-red now, but Samantha ultimately bent over to pick up her glistening panties -- and proceeded to put the tiny underwear past her lips.

I'd totally gag that slut with my wet panties... Cammy thought as she drank in the titillating scene. The masked woman gently touched herself between her legs, unsurprised by the soggy sensation from her built-up wetness. She pushed harder and was rewarded with a wave of familiar pleasure pulsating through her.

Cammy barely won the battle to keep her hand away from her pussy, but she couldn't tear her eyes from the heated encounter inside the bungalow.

Naked from the waist down, Samantha turned to face the wall. She writhed in heat as he bent over to caress her long legs, before his fingers converged at her labia, in search of her clit. She screamed when he followed up with a purposeful lick across her pussy folds. The Lieutenant begged him to continue with her deep, blue eyes, but he laughed and swatted her gorgeous ass instead.

He continued to finger and spank her until both ass cheeks turned crimson. He leaned against her naked backside and whispered something again. Alarmed by his suggestion, Samantha immediately spun and dropped to a crouching position. She discarded the panties from her mouth, and focused on the obvious bulge in his pants, now at her eye level.

While she fumbled with the zipper on his uniform pants, he was busy stepping out of his leather shoes and releasing his equipment and gun belt. It was carefully set on to the floor tiles, and his trousers soon joined the pile. The police Lieutenant looked up with anticipation, and he simply nodded. A slight smile appeared on her face as she wrapped her fingers around his pole through his boxers.

The Commander's face really lit up when Samantha gently pried his rigid tool through the slit in the boxers. He shivered as she tickled his wet, sensitive head, first with her fingertips, then with her tongue. Cammy could not easily make out her words -- but whatever she said, he nodded vigorously. The mystery was solved moments later when her tongue left a trail of hot saliva from his balls, up his shaft, and topped with a twirl around his throbbing cock head.

Several minutes later, the Commander roared at the busy Lieutenant, getting her attention by taking a fistful of her hair. He could not take her expert teasing anymore. She gasped but quickly opened wide her mouth and swallowed his cock -- well, not quite swallow, Cammy corrected herself. To her amazement, the Lieutenant had no trouble going down on almost his entire length. She came up to gulp a deep breath, just before he shoved her head down again.

"What a fucking slut!" Cammy mouthed the words silently as she watched the Lieutenant's head bopped up and down, even as her shackled hands returned to her own wet pussy to give it some much-needed attention. They paused briefly for the Commander to get his boxers out of the way, and the fellatio resumed without skipping a beat.

The Commander's huffing and puffing was a clear sign he wasn't able to prolong the all-out assault on his cock. He yelled at the Lieutenant, who scrambled to her feet. She was pushed none-too-gently against the wall, rattling the picture frames along the wall. The "lovebirds" exchanged intense glares, before he asserted himself by taking her handcuffed wrists over her head -- and drove his cock deep into her.

Cammy was really pressing on her own pussy now, the moment their expressions of bliss and shock marked his successful entry. Heavy gasps, and long, hard thrusting followed. Samantha was putting up a token struggle, but ended up steering her cuffed wrists to wrap them around the base of his neck and press closer to him. She panted in approval when he rolled her nightie up to expose her bouncing titties, before burying his head in her mounds.

The couple's primal cries were now loud enough for Cammy to hear, even through the closed window.

The pace of their strokes quickened and within minutes of walking through her front door, the Commander grunted and shot his load deep into the Lieutenant's cunt. At least, that's what Cammy assumed, as she watched him relax with a deeply sated expression. In contrast, she frowned and sighed deeply, even as a trail of cum began to trickle down her thighs.

The Lieutenant gave him a peck on his cheeks and said something. Clumsily, he nodded and reached for a stack of Starbucks napkins lying on the beautifully crafted console table, and managed to catch some of the sticky fluids as he pulled out.

He grinned sheepishly, and Samantha looked up with her irresistible doe eyes -- and held out her handcuffed wrists at him. His post-fuck-sanity restored, the Commander reached for his dropped pants and rummaged through the pockets for the handcuffs key.

The couple disappeared into the house for a while, no doubt cleaning up after themselves. It was Samantha who first returned, bending over in her rumpled nightie to wipe up the stains from the hardwood floor. She rubbed her wrists and studied them, apparently relieved the handcuffs marks were not too visible.

The Field Commander returned to the foyer soon after, having dressed, and the two engaged in what appeared to be a brief, awkward conversation. She just glared when he made a show of looking at his watch. It was a quarter past five, and to Cammy's relief, Field Commander Everette went for a quick peck on his subordinate's lips, put on his police cap, and walked out the door. Samantha lingered at the door but let it shut without waving goodbye.

As the Dodge reversed out of the driveway, Cammy caught a glimpse of Samantha's puffy and well-trimmed pussy, when she bent over again, this time to retrieve her G-string from the floor. The policewoman sighed visibly and disappeared down the hallway. Cammy took the time to shut off the camera, pleased after a quick preview of the clip.

Video number ten, she thought. Her smile remained when she saw light coming from a narrow, frosted window at the side of the house.

Perfect. The slut is taking a shower, Cammy thought, as she backtracked her way to the rear of the bungalow. The brunette rather enjoyed the unforeseen delay, but it was time to get things back on track.

After all, State Police Lieutenant Samantha Dawson was the first of many dominos to fall tonight.

***

Samantha was in a foul mood, even as hot water from the shower was gently massaging her sore body. She just wanted to wash all traces of the Field Commander off of her -- having already brushed her teeth and gargled mouthwash -- but specially to rid the sticky gob nestled inside her and around her thighs.

The fucking bastard! She fumed to herself. His second visit after... The Ordeal, and he had the nerves to pull out the handcuffs and going all rough on her. Worst of all, he couldn't even last long enough for me to cum. Fuck him!

"And there I go, thinking about The Ordeal again," Samantha thought, as she rubbed her tender breasts with a lather of body wash. The police shrink had urged her to "steer your thoughts from replaying the specifics of that evening", but they both knew that it was easier said than done.

Her mind were flooded with "the specifics of that evening" the moment Everette, with the stupid grin on his face, pulled out his shiny handcuffs. He couldn't even make it into her bedroom and give her a good, normal fuck. No, he had to cuff her, instantly conjuring up those unwelcoming images: the dirty, lustful leers from the federal prisoner, Escobar; the imposter deputy and her partner-in-crime pointing their guns to her head; the way they marched into her office and dreadfully tied her to her own desk...

And then there were the OTHER scenes -- the ones she chose not to tell anyone, especially the FBI vultures -- where they made her watch Escobar savagely fuck the hapless ATF Special Agent. The last thing she needed was more rumours floating around the station connecting her with the fetching blonde...

What she could not hide, of course, was that the two imposter cops proceeded to cut all her clothes off... and... made her do things. Did things to her. Nothing she hadn't really experienced before, granted, but not at gunpoint, and certainly not in her own office. The male and female duo used her like a sex toy, took all sorts of pictures and videos, carted all the Escobar evidence and weapons away, and left her in the most humiliating position possible.

She was almost certain that the head of the Bomb Squad ordered everyone off the floor just so he could jerk off in front of her naked, bound, gagged and blindfolded form undisturbed -- while he "worked" to remove the vibrating device from her cunt, which turned out to be completely harmless. And he had the nerve to wink at her -- twice! -- at the station since. Unbelievable!

Then, there were the long, torturous "post-incident" interviews she had to endure, where the FBI-led task force did their best to interrogate her and poke holes into her story. In the weeks following The Ordeal, Samantha was reserving a spot of pure disdain for that cold-hearted bitch, Special Agent Natasha Cole of the FBI.

Even under the monotonous beat of the running hot water, the Lieutenant could hear the FBI agent's subtle but piercing accusations -- thinly disguised as interview questions -- delivered in her stuck-up British accent. Samantha had heard stories about Agent Cole, about her being on loan from the Scotland Yards and a definite "up-and-comer" at the FBI...

Well, fuck her too.

Yet, by far the WORST for Samantha to endure was, actually, complete silence from the perpetrators -- since they were in possession of her prized "blackmail" videos. Samantha panicked every time at the thought of those explicit videos coming to light...

Field Commander Everette. Captain Barnard. Her roommate and BFF, Corporal Melissa Holmes. Separate encounters over a span of two years, all of them captured in high-definition, digital form -- all of them very obscene, each State Trooper in very compromising positions with her. Years of reputation... careers and families... would crumble to bits in the blink of an eye.

What are those nasty criminals going to do with the videos? Surely, by now, they had reviewed the content. Why haven't they contacted her? Samantha had e-mailed them her new password at work, just as instructed. But it's been weeks and...

Samantha was jolted out of her pondering when she thought she heard a door close. It was way too early for Melissa to be back from her graveyard shift, she thought. Maybe it was the wind -- did she leave a window open?

Intending to finish up, she splashed water on her face and realized from her pruned fingertips that she had been in the shower far too long. She shut off the water and took the towel hanging on the glass door. As she patted her glistening skin dry, Samantha paused when she reached her neatly trimmed bush. Tenderly, she traced her fingers through her pussy lips. Yep, she was still wet, and it was definitely not traces of Everette. She shuddered at the touch -- and knew she had some unfinished business.

"Thanks for nothing, Commander" She grumbled aloud, after stepping out of the shower. She dried her hair as much as she could with the towel, and got dressed in a set of matching black-and-red, spandex sports bra and bottoms. The medium blonde sighed at the sensations of the cool material sliding across her glowing skin.

As she adjusted the cross-over straps in the back and pulled up her boobs, Samantha looked in the mirror and instantly liked what she saw -- her pricey bra top was managing to make her set of full breasts even more impressive, with the top halves of her bosom squeezed upward and together, creating a healthy dose of cleavage that would be irresistible to any male (or female, for that matter) with a pulse.

She looked down and found herself admiring her taut tummy and long, smooth legs. The black underwear bottom fitted snuggly, accenting her slim waistline. Shortly after Everette left, Samantha decided to let out some steam by doing her two-mile run in the neighborhood. It's been a while... since The Ordeal, actually. Her round-the-clock protection crew, ordered by Everette, nixed the running. The State Police finally recalled the security detail last week, much to her relief.

But she stopped herself at the bathroom door. Her fingers wandered down between her legs again, and she could feel her wetness seeping on to the short-shorts. She shuddered again as she pressed harder...

Samantha decided then: the jog can wait.

The medium blonde scurried through the darkness, toward her bedroom at the end of the hallway.

So focused on digging out the thick dildo hidden in her closet, Samantha failed to notice she was not alone in her bedroom. She actually felt the cool rubber of her favourite sex toy on her fingertips -- before her head was suddenly yanked back by the gloved hand that wrapped around her mouth.

"DON'T move, and DON'T make a sound." The stern whisper reached Samantha's ear just as the cold metal barrel pressed against the side of her head. The policewoman's eyes widened with fear, her scream stifled in her throat.

"Hello, Lieutenant SLUT." There was no doubt whose body was pressing against her backside. The intruder closed in until Samantha could feel her breath in her ear. "My, don't you smell lovely." Samantha swallowed hard as she watched the barrel of the black handgun appear over her shoulder, brushing along her skin and poking at the top of her breasts.

Samantha froze and watched as the gun wormed its way beneath her bra top. She gasped behind the leather glove when the cold metal made contact with her sensitive nipple.

"Nnnnn--" She breathed, as the assailant pressed hard against her, until Samantha could feel the woman's breasts sliding against her backside.

"You like this, slut?" Came the sultry whisper, and the gun slithered over, in search of her other tit. Despite her fear, the policewoman's breaths quickened at the tingling sensations of the hard steel drawing circles on her areola and tipping her erect nipples.

The medium blonde dared to sneak a look at the weapon violating her breasts and recognized it as a S&W .40 compact handgun. She thought of her own service weapon, a Sig Sauer semi-automatic, in her purse. Maybe if she could...

"Ahh-- oohhhh" Her thoughts were interrupted when the gloved hand slid down her chin, squeezed her throat gently, cupped her breast though her top, and examined her smooth tummy. Samantha shivered at the woman's touch, and sighed when the hand followed the tight contours of the spandex bottom, resting at the wet spot between her legs.

"Remember, not a sound, slut." Samantha was warned, so all she could do was inhale sharply as the gun continued to explore her breasts, while the hand stroked her sex through her pants until the sound of squishing plods became very audible in the enclosed space. The dual assault continued, until she was panting in heat.

"Come here." She was gripped by her hair and forced to turn her head to the side, where her attacker greeted her -- with her hot mouth. Samantha's surprised gasp was muffled when the incoming fiery lips landed on hers, followed with a juicy, forceful tongue wiggling its way into her mouth. The confused cop could feel her legs weakening as her long-awaited orgasm began to build...