| Subject: The Speeding Ticket |
Author:
Stan
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Date Posted: 14:06:00 10/07/17 Sat
One time, when I was in my early 20s, I was driving down a highway. I wasn't paying any attention to the speedometer. All of a sudden, I heard a siren. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a police car rapidly approaching with his red lights flashing. I pulled over to the side of the road, parked on the shoulder, and prayed he wasn't chasing after me. But, as luck would have it, he pulled off the road too and parked a short distance behind me.
Anxiously looking through my side-view mirror, I saw a cop get out of that vehicle and walk toward my car. He stopped next to the driver's window and said, in a commanding voice, "Sir. Please roll down your window!" As I complied with his request, I turned my head toward the officer, but because he was quite tall, I couldn't see his face. Instead, I found myself staring directly at the huge buckle of his holster belt. And just below that impressive buckle, a bulge in his pants testified to his undeniable manhood. Suddenly, I had a feeling I hadn't experienced since I was a little kid, when I had done something wrong. I recall my dad's tall frame towering over me. He would look down at me and shake his head. That was his way of registering his disappointment with me, and I KNEW then he was going to punish me with his belt. My dad didn't like punishing me, but he felt it was important for my moral upbringing. So he was very conscientious about it, and he applied the belt with enough force to insure I learned my lesson. And that lesson, which I would have to learn over and over again, was that any transgression of dad's rules would result in a painful encounter with his belt.
Suddenly, I was brought back to the here-and-now when I heard the police officer ask me, "Do you know what the speed limit is here?" and I replied "No". He said it was 55 mph. Then he asked, "Do you know how fast you were going?", and again I replied "No". He said, "I clocked you at 85 mph. I'm going to have to write you up for a speeding violation. Because of the excessively high speed, the fine is going to cost you several hundred dollars. But, right now, I want you to step out of your vehicle!" His stern request alarmed me. Was this standard procedure for a speeding ticket? But I was even more afraid of what he might do if I didn't obey him. So I promptly got out of my car.
It was then that I got my first full view of the officer. He looked quite commanding in that black uniform. Observing the gun on one side of his holster belt, and a long threatening baton hanging down on the other side, I was quickly intimidated into submission. Because of the power he wielded over me, I found myself, not only in fear of him, but strangely attracted to him as well. I wondered if the officer had noticed that my attention was focused on his holster belt and the bulge that lay just below it. If so, he didn't seem to mind the attention, as I thought I detected a subtle smile on his face. The officer said, "You're probably wondering why I asked you to step out of your vehicle. Well, when I was walking up to your car, I noticed that your tires were badly worn. I want to show you those worn tires. If one of your tires had blown while you were speeding at 85 mph, you might have been killed. You need to replace all four of your tires." A dead silence followed. The officer asked me why I was looking so glum? I replied, "With the cost of the speeding ticket, I don't see how I'll be able to afford 4 new tires on my wages. And I need my car for work."
For a moment, the officer appeared to be deep in thought. Then, he said, "I'll tell you what I'll do. You seem like a fine young man. I don't want you to risk your life driving a car in unsafe condition, but I don't want to see you go bankrupt either because of one foolish mistake. However, you do need to be punished for breaking the law and endangering other people's lives as well as your own. So I'll make you this deal. I won't write you up for a ticket this one time if you agree to come over to my place on Saturday and submit to some punishment, which will be determined by me when you come over. You'll just have to trust me that the punishment will be fair and just. So, what's your decision?" I hesitantly replied, "It looks like taking the punishment at your place is the only real choice I have." The officer warned me, "Don't even think about not showing up for your punishment!" Then he got back into his vehicle and drove off.
When I arrived at the officer's house on Saturday, I wondered what kind of "punishment" he had in mind for me. Maybe, he'd force me to do some strenuous yard work or other manual labor. Or maybe, at the worst, he'd make me to do 100 push-ups. But I was in total disbelief when he said, "I've decided to give you an old-fashioned belt whipping for your punishment. Since you are too tall to take over my knee, I'm going to tie you down to a sawhorse in my garage. But first, I want you to take off all your clothes. The belt whipping will be most effective when applied to your naked butt." I felt I had no choice but to obey his orders. After I had taken off my clothes, I lay across the sawhorse. Then he used thick cords to tie my hands and feet securely to hooks on the legs of that sawhorse. I was startled when he rubbed the palms of his hands across my butt and said, "You've got a nice-looking ass. It's going to be a real shame to have to leave nasty black bruises all over it, but they'll disappear after a few weeks". I got really worried when he said that.
The officer then stood directly in front of me. I lifted my head up in order to get a glimpse of him. He had on a wide black garrison belt, which stood out really well against the faded blue jeans he was wearing. I watched him intently as he unbuckled his belt and slowly pulled it out of the belt loops of his jeans. Then he doubled the belt over and walked behind me. I was shaking like a leaf. I KNEW I was going to "get the belt" any moment now, and I WAS SCARED!
The first few strokes of his belt came as a complete shock. I hadn't gotten a whipping like that since I was a child. I had forgotten how painful it was! The fact that I was an adult now did not make the pain any more bearable. The officer laid his belt across my ass at a steady pace. Each stroke felt worse than the one before it. I tried to take the punishment without crying, but by the time he had given me a dozen lashes, tears started flowing. The sting of his belt was breaking down my resistance. Soon, I could no longer hold it back, and I burst out crying. When the punishment had reached 30 lashes, I begged him, "Please stop. I can't take it any more." Then, the officer told me, "The REAL PUNISHMENT begins when you can't take the pain any more!" Then he resumed the whipping, and, from that point on, I let out a yell with every stroke of his belt. My dad had never given me that many lashes, and he never laid the belt on as hard as this officer was doing.
When I realized that the officer hadn't told me how many lashes he was going to give me, I began to wonder if my punishment was ever going to end. By the time it had reached 40 lashes, I was screaming uncontrollably, and my body was moving every which way, trying to escape from the officer's belt, but without success. When the punishment had reached 50 lashes, he suddenly stopped and told me, "I think you've learned your lesson." I was still crying steadily even though the lashes had ceased. Then, in a tone that struck terror into my heart, he said, "Are you ever going to give me cause to have to punish you again with my belt?" "No sir.", I replied tearfully and submissively.
Since the officer was still behind me, I wasn't able to see him. Suddenly, I felt his hands gently massaging my butt. I think he was trying to comfort me after the terrible pain he had just inflicted. Then he leaned forward over me and massaged my back with his hands. But as he did so, I felt the front of his jeans press against my ass. He must have put his belt back on because I could feel the cold metal of his large belt buckle making contact with my butt, which was still radiating heat from the whipping. Then I got aroused when I felt the bulge in his jeans rubbing across my ass. Somehow, he had figured out that I liked "being with men" because he said, "Now, I'm going to warm up your inside to match your butt!" I KNEW what he had in mind, and I put up no resistance. I heard his belt buckle jingle as he undid it once more, and then I felt his warm throbbing flesh forcing its way into me.
For the curious, this story is pure fiction, but it reveals a lot about the secret desires of its creator.
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