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BDSM, Breasts, and Badges: Resisting Arrest

By Matt Nicholson


BDSM, Breasts, and Badges – Volume 3: Resisting Arrest*


Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords

*Originally published in a shorter format as

Morgan’s Cartel III: Resisting Arrest


Copyright 2017, Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.

Cover image by stanislovpomomarenko/123RF Stock Photos


Other stories in the BDSM, Breasts, and Badges series include:


Volume 1 – Corporal Punishment

Volume 2 – Law Enforcement

Volume 4 – Unlawful Restraint

Smashwords Edition, License Notes


This work contains graphic language and depictions of sometimes extreme consensual and semi-consensual female bondage and sexual sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters depicted in this work are eighteen years of age or older. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or redistribute this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Darker Pleasures, webmaster at darkerpleasures.com.



As far as clubs went, this one was one of the more entertaining ones Dennis had been to, especially since he hadn’t planned on being here to begin with. It was comfortable and well equipped, if not five star, and it had taken less to bribe his way in than he’d expected. Once inside, he’d found the entertainment – though that wasn’t what the club preferred to call it – top notch.

In any case, he’d been lounging at a small table in a darker corner for almost an hour. With the spotlights lighting each of the five stages, the shadows made it nearly impossible for anyone in the light to see through them. He couldn’t have asked for better ambiance.

In the time he’d been there, he’d sipped two rum and cokes and watched as a paunchy guy in his mid-forties spent way too much time wrapping ropes around the pretty red-head Dennis had come to see. Dennis passed the time watching her mouthwatering breasts and bottom shift, jiggle, and bounce until – once everything else was decorated with rope – the fat bastard finally went after her tits.

It took him almost twenty more minutes to wrap four or five perfect loops around each side, choking them so the bulged like balloons. Still, Dennis could have lived without the rest of the Shibari time-wasting. Tying women up quickly so the rest of his time could be spent on other things was much more his style.

The fact that she was the nicest-looking of the naked and willing playthings in the private little BDSM club made the watching enjoyable despite the over-hyped artistry. Still, by the time the bearded wonder got around to taking the flogger to her, Dennis was about ready to take the stage for him.

It only made matters worse when the “lashing” turned out to be little more than a few dozen playful slaps each across her backside and front. The flogging changed her tits from white-turned-blood-deprived-lavender to a well-tenderized red, and made her pretty curves jiggle nicely enough. But those boobs were built to bounce wildly, as was her barely beaten bottom. Any marks the rigger left would be gone by morning – which made for a complete waste of gorgeous skin.

It wasn’t until the knife came out that Dennis set his drink down and leaned forward. If the Shibari time and light flogging were warm-ups for a decent grand finale, then maybe the wait was worth the time, after all. He watched her face as the knife came close. Her mouth opened slightly as the blade came for her breast. Besides a few of the lashes, it was one of the few times she’d closed her eyes in anticipation.

When its edge gleamed in the spotlight and touched her nipples tip, she tossed her long, red hair back out of the way and drew the tip of her tongue across her candy-red lips. She had those hard, raspberry nipples with the little hollow in their tips that would give the blade’s talon-like point a nice place to nestle. Her slight smile let Dennis know she wanted more than she’d taken so far. Though she couldn’t see him, he smiled with her.

But, instead of pressing the sharp point into the little hole and letting a deeper part of her pert nipple feel its sting, her tormentor moved the blade down and dragged it up in a vertical line over her right breast’s delectable undercurve. When the fat guy moved out of the way and Dennis had a clearer view, Dennis almost cat-called him. It would have been so easy to draw a trail of tiny red beads that grew into lovely droplets, but there wasn’t so much as a scratch.

The knife pulled across her solid, bump-covered areola, beneath the golden circlet that ran through the tightly-wrinkled base of her puckered nipple, but still it left no mark. The move only served to remind Dennis about the gleaming, golden loops and what potential was being wasted by not using them.

Convinced the paunchy guy was out of his league, Dennis watched her face again. Each time the sharp edge touched her, she held her breath. Each time it left her unscathed, her brows knitted a bit. The ball gag kept her from talking, but if it didn’t, Dennis was fairly certain she’d have voiced as much displeasure as he felt.

She hung there another fifteen minutes, suspended from the ground at a downward angle by the ropes. While she did subspace or something, her tormentor wasted his time pretending to carve her lovely flesh. It wasn’t until he started cutting the rope that he showed any knowledge of how to really use the knife.

Once they finished, Dennis watched her rubbing the rope marks on her wrists while admiring the ones around her thighs and the fattest parts of her tits. She smiled a bit, particularly as her hands slid up her ribs to her breasts – but not nearly as much as he thought she might have if her partner had had any balls.

As she started getting dressed, Dennis dropped a hundred on the table and stood. He’d followed her to gather intelligence, to learn things about her that he could use against her later. He’d expected something a lot more mundane than her playing submissive in a BDSM club, but he certainly wasn’t going to argue about his stroke of luck. In fact, it only made him more excited for the rest of the game. With that in mind, he downed the rest of his drink as she said her goodbyes. Research time was over. It was time to get to know Deputy Dixon better.


~~~


“So, have any plans after you get off duty?”

Stacy started to answer, but Mark’s foot came at her in a high arc from the left, narrowly missing the side of her head. His toes passed through the twirling stream of long, red hair trailing in her wake as she dodged. She didn’t bother responding. Instead, she twisted counterclockwise, dropping low to the mat with a leg sweep of her own. She felt a satisfying impact as the side of her calf met his ankle. She rolled in the direction of her sweep, making sure the falling man’s elbow had no target. She’d already jumped to a crouch when his back and arms hit the mat with a resounding thud.

Once it was safe, she breathed out a quick answer between pants. “Yep...”

She was ready for him as he spun on his back. He looked vaguely like a rap dancer. His flailing legs forced her to retreat. She knew he was trying to position himself to push up and counter.

“Ah. Anything I could join you in?”

Instead of falling back, she rotated at the hip and dodged his feet while waiting a few heartbeats until the timing was right. If he had any idea what she had planned that evening, he’d probably have been shocked. MMA wasn’t the only contact sport she enjoyed. The other one just happened to involve ropes, whips, and a lot less clothing.

“I don’t think you could handle it,” she said as she dropped hard to a knee. Her elbow fell across his chest, knocking the breath out of him.

It took a moment for him to recover enough to slap his thigh in surrender. “I can handle a lot.”

She sat up on her knees, locked her fingers behind her head, and breathed. “Heck, you couldn’t even handle a legs weep and my elbow, you wimp.”

He laughed and rolled onto his side. Then he planted an elbow on the red mat and propped his head on his hand. “Sounds like a challenge. How about tomorrow night?”

She needed to change the subject. Chitchatting about her nightlife could get embarrassing. “Got warrant detail. Going after some stalker from Texas. Kidnapped a female Fort Worth cop…twice.”

His eyes lit up. “You don’t say? What did he do to her?”

“The warrant’s for aggravated sexual assault. It says he raped and tortured her, though I’m not sure how much of it was really against her will from the way her statement reads.” Stacy highly doubted much of it was against her will, actually.

“Still, if this guy’s good enough to do that, maybe she ought to just drop the charges and leave him be. Either way, you sure you want to go after him by yourself, Stacy? He doesn’t sound like the type of chap you’d want to mess with.”


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