Police Woman defends Western Values

My name is Jan Thomas, I am a constable with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I have been with the RCMP since I got out of the army where I served in the Canadian Infantry. I have been an athlete my whole life, both a swimmer and a martial artist, and have proved myself to be more than capable in fields that have always been traditionally male.

I stand five foot seven in stocking feet, making me five foot nine in police boots. I am not anyone’s idea of a supermodel, as I am more muscular and curvy than thin and waifish. I weigh one hundred ninety pounds, and I would love to tell you that none of it is fat, but nature has chosen to have a joke at my expense, and I have a figure 48GG-40-46 that is too richly curved, and too fully chested for even my issue bullet proof vest to hide my breasts, or the revealing way my duty pants react to my heart shaped ass moving under them. Between the breasts and bum, I have gotten used to having to be harder than any of the men to get the same level of respect, and thanks to my physical toughness and experience, I can do that.

I am a proud mother to my daughters, and a good wife. I am a proud feminist, and a believer in equality. I am also intensely frustrated sexually. My husband respects my strength, and is phenomenally patient and understanding. I love him for it, but the very softness that makes me adore him, fails to capture my sexual energy. Being aggressive and in control at work, especially during the many confrontations that happen leaves me intensely sexually aroused, and with only my husband’s gentle nature at home, really unfulfilled.

We had been having problems in the downtown recently. The Federal Government had placed about a hundred and sixty refugee claimants from Syria. Actually they seemed to come from just about every part of North Africa, and they dropped them on our city emergency shelters and then the promised programs to integrate them seemed to go away right after the election was over.

We had responded to a domestic violence call, it was the Tuesday before Welfare Wednesday, so it was the second worst day of the month. People were short on everything, including patience, which made it slightly better than “happy overdose day” tomorrow.

A pretty blonde waitress from one of the upscale eateries had called us down, and the neighbors had told us they heard sounds of shouting followed by beating, followed by sobbing. I took the woman in the next room, and got her story. She was really mad, her boyfriend had beaten her with a belt because she wouldn’t hand over her tip money, and she was upset. I talked to her about the shelter, or about taking in her boyfriend, when she backtracked and said that he never touched her, but her back showed belt marks below her halter.

I asked her how she ended up with him, a nice girl, good job, good family, educated, and him a jobless unskilled unemployed immigrant with barely understandable English, and she talked about an online dating site where the boy had advertised as “Strong Muslim Man ready to take control of needy white bitch”, and I can’t believe she went for it.

She talked about how he made her feel pretty, made her feel feminine, made her feel she could stop thinking and be a proper woman. How he made her cum more times in a night than most boyfriends ina whole relationship, and how she had never felt more free than the first time he tied her to the bed, and took her in all three holes.

By the end she was so worked up, she demanded we leave her and her fiancé (when did her boyfriend of a week become her fiancé?) alone.

I left thinking about the website. It had to be bullshit. It couldn’t be real.

I joined it that night, used a gmail account I had for online video gaming. I took a picture of myself, cropped it from the eyes to the knees, and posted it. I found what she did, Muslim men looking for women to serve them. We did a lot of verbal sparring, but I found myself getting turned on.

It wasn’t real, it was just a game, but playing along made me excited. I began to sex chat with Khan55, and after a while it became something I couldn’t go to sleep without. He started to demand pictures, and I gave them. Not my face, just my body. First in lingerie, then more explicit, finally he had me masturbate for him, and punish myself on camera for him. I got used to obeying his commands got used to loving it.

Work actually got easier. I was less stressed, really happy. Then I got his email. He called me by name. Constable Jan Thomas, and told me I would be meeting him. I guess I hadn’t paid close enough attention to the background, and my citation was on the wall behind me when I turned the webcam to the kitchen table to sodomize myself for the camera. I guess I really screwed myself.

Khan was actually 56, but the online ID was made when he was 55. He was about fifty pounds overweight and an open predator, like a lazy lion that looks at you only with is it worth getting up to take you, not could he, or should he; simply will he bother.

He told me that he had fun playing, as did I but it was time I got to work pleasing him sexually, since he had passed on his prime girlfriend, and was looking for a place holder while he looked for a real replacement.

I was shocked he would talk to me like that, and I called him on his disrespectful attitude. His words redefined my life.

“I don’t respect you. I enjoy using you. I enjoy training you. I enjoy teaching you how wrong you are about everything you claim to know. I enjoy breaking you, and making you ask for every single step of it, but honestly, it is really possible I will just tire of you and move on. You aren’t that special, none of you white girls are.”

No one has EVER talked to me like that, and I should have been offended. I sat there wondering why I wasn’t walking out when he reached over and slid a hand along my cheek to my neck. I moaned. He pulled me forward, and I melted, expecting a kiss. Instead, he drew my head down to his semi-hard cock, and I found myself giving him a blowjob in a Muslim café in the middle of town. The men in the café laughed, as he instructed me firmly but quietly in how to do better. When he praised me, I got so wet, so hot, suddenly giving him a good blowjob was more important than anything else.

He came to visit me whenever he liked, using me for sex in all manner of ways. He taught me to enjoy being spanked, being choked and even taught me how to demonstrate my understanding of my place. That one was the hardest to think about, it shut off my brain, and turned on my pussy. I would blow him until he was close, then lick his balls and ass while he stroked. He could make me do it for up to an hour, before coming all over my face and tits. He would slap and smear the cum on my face while he commanded me to play with myself.

Then he would tell me it was time to show I understood my place. He pointed his semihard cock at my face, I opened my mouth, and he peed in it. Spraying his hot pee on my face, over my hair, then down again to my face. Ordering me to open my eyes, he would piss the cum off my breasts and tell me to show me what a slut I was and cum. I always did. HARD

Life went on professionally as normal, for a while.

There was a disturbance, a noise complaint at a house party. I responded to check it out. There were a group of Immigrant Muslims around a boom box, two white girls were dancing topless on a picnic bench when I got there. Open alcohol was everywhere (I thought that was forbidden?).

I told them to kill the music, get rid of the girls, and get the party back into the house, or I would call additional units and start checking people’s ID’s for legal age and status.

Everything was fine, until Khan stepped out.

He shouted “Silence!” And everyone shut up, including me.

He walked up to me, clearly angry. “You have ruined my party, sent away my entertainment, and insulted my guests. Worse, you have misbehaved, you have been rude, in MY HOUSE”

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t think at all. Khan was actually mad at me.

He pointed to his foot and without a second thought, I dropped to my knees and kissed it, the way I would before punishment when we were together for sex and I had displeased or failed him. The crowd started to cheer.

He ordered me to stand. I did, blushing furiously. I was surrounded by a leering pack of men now, none of their earlier fear remained, only hunger, lust, and contempt. I was terrified, and so wet I was afraid to look at my pants for stains.

Khan looked at me “You have not acted worthy of that uniform, or that weapon. Are you going to dishonour it, or are you going to make amends?” He was performing for me, for the crowd, but I couldn’t help it.

“Make amends Master” I shouted back at him.

He snapped his fingers and pointed to my belt, I unbuckled my weapon belt, and surrendered my weapon, radio and cuffs. The crowd hooted and whistled.

Khan locked the belt in my car, and directed me to the table I had chased the girls away from.

“You cost us our entertainment, we had two girls stripping for us, now you will have to replace them”

The music was back on, and the camera phones were pointing at me. I didn’t know what to do. I froze. Khan began to unbuckle his belt, and my blood went cold. I couldn’t disappoint him in front of everyone, he would never forgive me!

I began to dace for the crowd like the strippers in movies, unbuckling my vest wasn’t that sexy, but when it came off, my actual curves were suddenly visible, and the crowd got wild. I began to unbutton, and hands began to slap my ass, pinch me, as I danced and twirled. As my shirt came off the crowd pressed closer, by the time I was down to my panties, two men on opposite sides ripped them off.

At that point, Khan told me that I had shamed my uniform, and had no business wearing it. He took my uniform, except my cap, and put it in my car as well.

“You have to earn those back, you have to earn those back if you want to go back to the station with your clothes, with your gun, and with your badge. I think that you need to be taught respect for Muslim Men, and what is it that your courts like to tell us so much? Ah yes, Community Service, and a fine.

Here is the community you will service, and for a fine, you must raise five hundred dollars to get your car keys back, and with it your uniform and weapon. You may ask any of these fine gentlemen how you can earn your money, but I warn you, these are not weak western men who think you are the center of the universe, to us you are just an over muscled whore, with only basic skills as a slut.”

I gave caressed and begged, crawled and kissed feet, sucked fingers, let men finger me, slap my nipples pinch them, someone jammed a plug with a tail in it up my ass, and put a dog collar on me, and walked me around the party, making me beg like a dog. Cocks came out, and my breasts were put into service as I earned my money sucking cock and being titty fucked.

That wasn’t enough for all of them. My handcuffs came out, and my hands were cuffed behind me. I was pushed over a table, and one man inserted his cock slowly until the tip was in, then he grabbed me by the long red braid, and slammed home in one thrust that drove my breath from my body.

He pounded me like that for minutes until he came, then the next man replaced him, and another two began slapping my cheeks with their cocks, alternating between rubbing them on me, and sticking it my mouth so every thrust in my pussy jammed it down my throat.

Soon I was a cum stained mess. I felt one skinny guy flip me over, push my knees up near my face, finger my ass with the cum from my pussy, and then work his fingers into my asshole. I tried to say no, but he called out to Khan that he would play twenty bucks to fuck my ass bareback. Khan said yes, I still recall his command.

“Beg that Muslim Master to fuck your dirty white asshole, apologize that you are untrained and unskilled, a white slut who is only worth that much because you are generous and should be thanked a thousand times for fucking your ass”

I couldn’t help it, I began to beg as he fingered my ass, and by the time he forced the head of his cock into my ass, I was in so much confusion, I didn’t know whether it hurt or felt good. A few minutes in, I began screaming, and I came all over him. He roared and buried himself in my ass, pumping a huge volume of hot seed in me. He stuffed two twenties in my mouth, as my hands were bound. Awkwardly, I crawled on my knees to drop the final money at Khan’s feet. He counted it out, and kept 500. The rest, he put in my police cap, and pulled out my key. Unlocking my cuffs, he dropped them in the hat as well.

Pulling out his half hard cock, he looked at my cum, spit and slap marked body, my bite mark covered ass and tits and shook his head.

“Are you nothing but a cum covered whore for Muslim cock?” He demanded loudly.

“Yes Master!” I answered.

The first touch of his pee made me shut my eyes and shudder in a feeling as close to pure bliss as I have ever known. Others joined in, and soon I was a wash in dark cocks unloading golden showers of contempt for the white Policewoman who thought to give orders to Muslim men. The Whore who forgot her place.

When they were done. I drove home to shower and change before going back to the station. I called in sick the next day to recover. I am waiting no for Khan to call, or for the videos to surface. I don’t think I will have a career as a police officer any more when the videos come out. Perhaps Khan can find a place for me to earn my keep.

Soldier, Policewoman, feminist……no. Those were all delusions. I have always been a whore for Muslim cock, only I never had anyone to teach me my rightful place until now. Thank you sir.

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2 Comments

  1. Very hot story and I am happy you finally found you purpose in life. You’re an example for all white wifes.

  2. That is an amazingly horny story. How all white whore wives should be treated. fantastic!

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