Fantasy Friday - Police Stop

It’s Friday, it’s Friday!! The weekend is here and I am thrilled! Today is special for another reason. Mollie turns 16 today! She is going to try to get her license today. As scary as that is I hope she gets it – she will be so disappointed if she doesn’t.


The next best thing is that today is Fantasy Friday! I got a great story from a first time contributor. This is a hot story and one I think should happen in real life occasionally! Please enjoy…



`So, a certain beautiful woman I know is hurtling down the interstate at 85 mph when what should appear in her rearview mirror but an unmarked state smokey sporting flashing blue and red lights. She pulls over. No big deal; she’s been through this before. As she gets out her license, registration and proof of insurance, she checks herself in the mirror and adjusts her girls just so for maximum cleavage.

He’s at the window – tall, dark and handsome. His soft brown eyes are hidden behind those mirrored sunglasses. His short sleeves can barely contain his rock hard upper arms and shoulders. The sharp military-style creases in his shirt run straight and smooth all the way to his patent leather utility belt. No beer belly here.

She smiles as she rolls down the window and leans forward a little, all the better to give him an eyeful. With a smile and a wink she’ll be on her way again with a warning. She’s done it a dozen times, maybe more. “Is there a problem, officer?” Her voice could just melt butter, couldn’t it?

“License and registration, please, ma’am.” He pegs her documents to the clipboard and asks, “Do you know how fast you were going back there?”

“I’m sorry, officer. I was just keeping up with traffic. I reeaallly didn’t notice.” She was using her combination little girl/bad girl voice, the one that always gets her another drink in the bar even after she’s made it clear that she’s not going home with whoever is making the offer tonight, and there were usually several of them. And, why not? From her own soft brown eyes to her gorgeous gams, she was in fact what God must have intended when He created woman in the first place.

Officer hunk turned toward his unmarked cruiser, the Ford Mustang with the pursuit package. “Wonder what kind of package HE has,” she asked herself under her breath. “I’ll be right back, ma’am.” He’s going to run her information through the computer. Usually, they take one look at her figure and let her go. Maybe this one is just going to be little tougher before he lets her off the hook.

He sits in the driver’s seat of the idling road rocket and punches the keys on his portable computer. In a moment, she can see a frown that crease his face. As he walks back to her window, she can see that he’s all business now. And, he ‘s starting to write on his pad – the pad of tickets.

“Ma’am, according to our records, you have received three warnings for excessive speed on this same stretch of road in just the last week. I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you a ticket.”

She swallows hard. “What’s this going to cost me, officer? I don’t make that much money.”

“With court costs, and including the surcharge for going 15 over the limit, let’s see … It’s going to cost you $750.00.”

Seven-fifty! She’ll never be able to pay that! It may as well be a million dollars! Her checking account only contains about ninety-five dollars, and there are two overdue bills sitting in her purse at this very moment demanding payment. “Officer, can you please help a sister out? I don’t have that kind of money. There’s no way I can pay a ticket that large. Can’t you do something?”

“If you can’t pay it, then you’ll have to come with me.” He isn’t smiling exactly, but he isn’t angry with her, either. “Just follow me to the post. It’s two exits down the road.”

She pulls out behind the little blue Ford in her aging SUV and wonders if she’s going to jail. Isn’t that what the old movies always said? “Thirty days or thirty dollars.” Is she going to have to do time?

The state police post is a low-slung white building with windows all across its face, just another non-descript, functional government building. She pulls into the parking space next to the pursuit car and steps out, her patent leather black pumps leading the way. As she slides out, her skirt rises in the back and reveals the tops of her off-black thigh-highs. She can see that the view isn’t lost on her captor, but her mind is no longer on trying to get away scot free. She’s anxious now about what will be waiting for her behind those doors.

He must be at least 6’4” now that they’re standing side by side. His grip on her arm is firm, but gentle as he leads her through the door into an interior that looks for all the world like the hand-me-downs from the driver’s license branch down the road. In fact, most of the furniture is exactly that. The room has at least five separate desks, but they’re all deserted. He offers her a seat next to a desk that bears a placard announcing Patrolman Rick Jefferson’s name and a miniature badge. “I want to show you something,” he begins as he lifts a manila folder from the pile at the edge of the desk. He opens the folder to a photograph of a battered Toyota with a man’s body hanging halfway out the open window. “He was going just about the same speed you were when he missed a curve. We think he may have been changing the station on his radio.” Another photo: a teen in the middle of a field, her arms and legs in an impossible posture. “She was thrown free through the passenger side window when her boyfriend went onto the shoulder and over-corrected, also speeding.” Three photos, then four: families, women, children not in car seats, little girls still clinging to their dolls, little boys with their little league uniforms covered in blood – all dead.

“You see, Ms. Jones, I’ve been collecting these photographs from every fatal accident I have been called to for the past ten years. These people are the reason I cannot just let you go with another warning. You must learn your lesson, or one of these days the face in one of the photographs is liable to be yours.”

"You’ve taught me a lesson, officer. I’ll slow down from now on. I swear I will. I guess I just wasn’t thinking…”

“I’m not just going to take your word for it.”

Uh oh, he’s going to give her the ticket anyway! “Look,” he continued, “if you really can’t afford to pay the ticket one way, then maybe you can pay another way.”

“Anything, Officer Jefferson. You want me to pick up trash along the highway, I’ll do it. You want me to go to some high school and scare some kids straight; I’ll do that, too. There’s just no way I can afford to pay a ticket like that.”

“Actually, I had something else in mind” He scooted his chair back from the desk and motioned for her to come closer. “I’ll be damned if he thinks I’m going to …” she was thinking to herself, but Officer Jefferson wasn’t unzipping his pants. Instead, he took her by the arm and with a single, smooth motion, turned her over his left thigh. Just as quickly, she could feel the sudden breeze that told her that her skirt was no longer covering much of anything at all. Before she could protest, she felt the first sharp smack of his large hand on her hindquarters.

“Hey!” she cried. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” At least, that’s what she thinks she said. He may not have heard her because his hand on her ass was making so much noise, whacking and slapping one cheek and then the other. Her soft mocha skin reddened under the assault. She was kicking her feet like mad, but his powerful left arm had her securely locked across his lap. Then, he hooked her left leg with his right. The spanking went on for thirty seconds, a minute, maybe more. The only respite was for a brief moment as he yanked her pale blue panties down to her knees. When his hand grew sore, he grabbed a ruler from the drawer and began again. Forty, fifty, sixty times the damnable thing whistled in the air and landed with a crack on her red, sore bottom. Her ass was on fire! Every inch of flesh from her upper thighs to her generous cheeks, and everywhere in between, was crying out its own kind of silent scream of heat and sting and bloody murder!

Somewhere along the line, she had stopped struggling. Her mascara was ruined. Her eyes were bloodshot with tears. She could hear herself wracked with sobs, almost as though it were another woman receiving such humiliating treatment and she were only a witness. But, it was her, and the wetness between her thighs betrayed the fact that not only was her backside being treated rudely, but she was beginning to enjoy it!

As quickly as it began, it ended. Officer Jefferson lifted her to her feet. Even with him seated, they were nearly at eye level. She wanted to bend over and hike up her panties. She was afraid that he might do it for her, but she didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to acknowledge, even to herself, what had just happened. And, she certainly didn’t want to admit to this man, or to anyone, the feelings that were coursing through her brain at the thought of lying across those muscular thighs once again.

“Ms Jones, I want you to understand what I’m telling you right now,” he began. “I’m going to be patrolling this same section of the interstate for weeks, maybe months. If I catch you speeding again, I will pull you over. And, if I pull you over, then I am going to write you a ticket. And, if you still insist that you cannot pay the ticket, then, well, now you know how you’re going to have to pay. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, officer.” It was all that she could think to say. She finally did get her wits about her enough to let her panties fall to her ankles. She stepped out of them and tucked them into her jacket pocket. It wasn’t like her throbbing ass needed the extra aggravation.

As she left the state police post, she wondered to herself if she could manage perhaps to keep a lookout for blue Ford Mustangs. Then she could make sure that she would be speeding at the right time. Yeah, that’s a plan!

~~~oo0oo~~~

This story was written by Nigel97, a nice guy who describes himself as a middle-aged spanko who has just found a wonderful woman in the Midwest who shares his love of spanking. I wish Nigel and his new found friend the best. I also thank him very much for sharing this story with us.

I hope other are out there trying their hand at writing. We would love to read your story! Please send all contribution to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

Thanks again Nigel and I hope you will write more for us.