Fixing The Ticket
by bound2tkl@aol.com
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I felt
the all-too-familiar pit form in my stomach as I stared in the rearview
mirror at the flashing bar of light on the police car following
me.
Before I could find a good place to pull over, the cop goosed his
siren for effect, shattering my nerves even more. "Not another
ticket!" I thought, fearing what this one would do to my insurance
and possibly even my license. I watched in my side mirror as the
officer got out of his car and sauntered up to my window.
I could tell by the deliberate and cool stride exactly who this
cop was--Jeff McAllister. Jefferson Davis McAllister IV, to be more
precise. His father is the police chief of this lazy, backwards
tourist town I'd moved to a few years ago. And he followed in his
father's footsteps and his grandfather's footsteps, a law enforcement
legacy this family takes very seriously. Somehow I knew this snot-nosed,
straight, uptight Southern boy
was going to enjoy giving me, the outsider, a big fat ticket.
I looked up at the towering figure of unyielding authority as he
stared into my car, the setting sun forming an eye-squinting backdrop
that dramatically silhouetted the formidable, powerful young McAllister's
body. Jeff is an all-American boy, former high-school football hero,
muscular hunk who cuts a noticeable form; at 6'3", his athletic
body retains not one ounce of fat, his torso forming a perfect "V"
shape starting at his broad shoulders, powerful chest and arms of
steel and tapering beautifully down to his trim waist. This is clearly
visible thanks to the perfectly pressed, form-fitting police uniform
he wears that causes all of the local girls to swoon when he walks
by.
"License and registration, please," he demanded emotionlessly.
I fished for
the registration in my glove box and handed both to him out my window.
This
boy was a bit too cocky for his own good, I'd always thought, taking
himself
and his job way too seriously. After high school and a stint in
the
Marines--figures!--he returned to Junctionville to claim his rightful
and
inherited position in the police department. He showed little humor
and
really impressed me as being pretty much a prick. Now, it appeared,
I would
have a chance to find out just how accurate this assumption was.
"Was I speeding, Jeff?" I asked timidly, trying to look
relaxed.
"72 in a 35, sir," was his gruff reply. "Y'know that
Arkansas state law
allows me to arrest drivers exceedin' the speed limit by 25 miles
an hour?"
He seemed almost pissed.
"Uh, no," I replied, somewhat dumbfounded. "I just
moved here six months
ago." I wanted to kick myself for throwing in that last, stupid
confession.
I knew what was next.
"Well, well, well," he replied mockingly. "Thinking
about staying long?"
"Yes."
"Then perhaps you'd better get an Arkansas license, Mr. Jacobs.
State law
dictates that new residents must obtain a new license within 60
days of
moving into the state."
"Well, uh, yeah, I know but um...I was planning to get it tomorrow!"
was all
I could manage to sputter out. I was getting pissed at the arrogance
this
23-year-old pain in the ass was displaying towards a person 10 years
senior
to him. But all I could do was stew, because he had the upper hand
and he
knew it.
"Listen, Jeff," I tried to sound as nice and respectful
as possible. "This ticket could kill me on insurance, you know
with this stupid imported car and all. Is there anyway you could
see clear to let me off?"
"We have a saying 'round here that goes 'you sleep with the
devil, you may
just wake up in hell.'"
He flashed an almost evil grin, delighted to have this California
boy nailed and at his mercy. Wait here while I call this in."
He returned to his car and began talking into the transmitter.
Then he sat there writing something down on his clipboard. This
whole incident seemed to be happening in slow motion and I thought
I'd never be back on my way. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard
and realized I was late for a meeting with my insurance broker.
Hell, what did this asshole care? He seemed to enjoy dragging this
humiliation and pain out. Cars drove by slowly, the drivers looking
at me and knowing how lucky they were I was the one who got caught,
this time. I looked in my rearview mirror at the cop. He displayed
a serious look on his chiseled, handsome, rugged face. His short-cropped,
jet black, perfectly trimmed hair blew a little in the late afternoon
air but hardly a hair moved out of place. Finally, after what seemed
like an eternity, he returned to the side of my car. He stared down
at me again, never once having removed his dark, aviator-style sunglasses
to reveal his steely blue eyes.
"Seems you're no stranger to speedin' tickets, Mr. Jacobs."
The sonofabitch flashed the most sarcastic, evil smile showing his
perfectly aligned pearly whites, the first time he even smiled during
this whole ordeal. "I'm citin' you for dangerous and reckless
driving in addition to excessive speeding, failure to obtain a valid
license and improperly maintained equipment."
"Improperly maintained equipment?!" I shouted, definitely
losing my patience.
"One of your tail lights isn't working, and I'd watch your
attitude sir, if you don't want to face additional charges."
He was clearly basking in the rush of unbridled and total unchecked
power.
He had me and he knew it. I was both scared and pissed beyond belief,
beginning to regret ever having left the big city to move to this
utopian hell hole.
"Today's your lucky day, mister, 'cause I'm going to let you
off easy," he continued. "I could haul your ass down to
the jail for just the first two charges, 'specially in light of
your previous tickets. Instead, I'm simply revoking your license,
and giving you a summons to appear in court next week."
"Court?!" I exclaimed, not believing what was happening.
"Yes, sir," he responded matter of factly. "If you're
lucky, you'll get off with just a slap on the wrist and a fine of
$500."
"Lucky?!" I was dumbfounded.
"Yes, sir. Have a good day." He handed me a citation and
my registration and sauntered back to his car.
"Fuck! He probably has a goddamned hard on after this one!"
I muttered to
myself as I watched him drive away.
My night was ruined. I just wanted to leave this stupid state and
return to civilization. But no such luck, since I'd plunked down
a ton of money on a quaint little inn here in this podunk tourist
trap town to escape civilization and 80-hour work weeks. So I returned
home dejected and depressed, wondering what was in store for me
with the judge next week.
I woke up the next day but unfortunately life didn't seem any better.
Since we were in the off season and only a few guests were in the
inn, I didn't have any maids on staff and had to clean the rooms
myself. Pulling up the room list on my computer--one of the few
vestiges of civilization I've allowed myself--I printed the list
for reference. Fortunately, I only had to clean three rooms. I started
with the two rooms where guests were still staying. Finding them
empty, I cleaned those rooms, my mind remembering all of the good
times I had in the city (it always happens that way--the good memories
come back when life isn't going so well here in Junctionville).
One room to go. This one was reserved by Lila Jones, one of Junctionville's
few "ladies of the evening." I liked Lila, and we had
a standing agreement during off-season that she always gets room
210, a special room over the garage and away from the rest of the
inn where she can be assured of solitude and not being overheard
by other guests. I always could count on her being gone by the time
I cleaned the room so I didn't even bother
knocking, instead simply unlocking the door and backing the maid
cart into the dark room.
Turning on the light, I turned around ready to clean the room and
my jaw dropped open at the sight before me. I couldn't believe what
I was seeing. Of all things, here was young, studly Jeff McAllister
completely naked (or nekkid as they say down here) and hand cuffed
spread-eagled to the king-sized, four-poster bed in the center of
the room. Completely shocked, I burst out laughing at the cock-sure
cop in such a vulnerable and embarrassing position. It was the first
time since my incident the previous night that I'd laughed, and
frankly it felt good. Jeff started pulling at the chains restraining
his wrists and ankles and trying to say something to me, but a strip
of duct tape covering his mouth prevented me from understanding
him.
"Why Jefferson Davis McAllister the fourth," I taunted,
feeling just a tad heady at my sudden turn of good fortune. "Have
you been doing the wild thing with little Lila Jones?" I chuckled
out loud, fully enjoying sitting in the catbird's seat. He was visibly
upset, pulling at the chains and yelling indistinguishably through
the duct tape. I reached down, grabbed the edge of the tape and
gave it a good yank off his mouth. I winced, knowing that had to
hurt.
"Ouch!" he yelled. And then he really laid into me. "Get
me the fuck out of these goddamn handcuffs now or I'll shut this
fleabag motel down for good!"
He went on to sputter a number of other obscenities. I couldn't
believe his arrogance wasn't even the least bit diminished given
the turn of events.
"Well, well, well, don't we have an attitude," I mocked.
"How in the hell
did Lila ever convince you to let her chain you up like this?"
"She didn't, you idiot! She spiked my fucking drink, next thing
I knew I woke up like this. Now unlock the cuffs with those keys,
before I really get pissed!" I glanced down at his keys on
the nightstand and then looked around, realizing that was the only
thing of Jeff's in the room. She must have taken his clothes and
gun with her. I wondered what he did to deserve this but then I
remembered his cockiness the night before and realized he probably
was just being himself! I was getting real tired of his attitude
so I took the tape and put it back over his mouth. Boy, did that
piss him off!
Fortunately, I didn't have to listen to his complaints thanks to
the tape. "You know, boy," I said in my best lecture intonation,
"I've had about enough of your attitude. In fact, I'd say you
could really use an attitude adjustment."
I looked down smugly at my prisoner. Boy, he looked even better
without clothes! His body was a study in muscular perfection. And
I was pleasantly surprised to discover this boy sported a lush coat
of hair on his buffed torso. His powerful, sculpted chest was coated
with a full matte of silky black hair, a thick dark line of hair
running from the center of his breastbone straight down to his crotch
and flaring out around his belly button providing a sexy dusting
of silky hair across his washboard abs. He
was quite a sight, and he was all mine!
"Right now," I continued, "I'm going to get to work
while you cool your
jets. And then we'll talk about setting you free."
He was pissed but I didn't care. Turning to my cart, I pulled out
a few supplies, picked up a feather duster and began gliding it
over the nightstand beside the bed. Jeff had shut up so I looked
over at him as I dusted and noticed his eyes were wide open. He
watched my every movement of my fist full of feathers as I flicked
them back and forth across the table surface. My heart pounded with
excitement as I pondered his look. When my hand moved over to the
bed with the feather duster, his eyes really bugged out and I recognized
the look of pure panic and fear in his eyes.
He was mumbling something through the tape and his whole body tensed
up. I knew I had him right where I wanted him! I ripped the tape
off of his mouth again.
"Uh, what was that man?" I asked.
"I said, let me the fuck up," he replied, very deliberately
enunciating each word.
"Sheesh!" I exclaimed. "Relax, man, I was just going
to dust off this headboard here."
I moved the feather duster up to the headboard and stroked it across
the fine wood surface, watching his eyes out of the corner of my
eye. His arms were completely taut against the chains, his bugged
out eyes following my every move. "You know, the only person
I've ever seen react that way to the sight of a bunch of feathers
was a guy I knew once who was really, really...ticklish!"
His whole body tensed and his chest moved up and down in response
to his heavy breathing.
"Why, surely a big, strong, tough guy like you, Jeff, isn't
so ticklish that you'd be afraid of a few feathers, are you?"
I couldn't believe my own cockiness as I reveled in his misfortune.
"Let me the fuck up!" he shouted, pulling wildly at the
handcuffs wrapped securely around his wrists. He definitely looked
panicked. Smiling what must have been the most evil smile I'd ever
donned, I slowly lowered the duster toward his outstretched arm.
"C'mon, this ain't funny!" he insisted.
The feathers struck his arm just below the handcuff and I slowly
dragged it down his unprotected arm. He jerked his arm and let out
a startling deep rumbling of laughter.
"Hmmm..." I teased as I continued moving the feathers
down his side, bouncing along his vulnerable rib cage to his hip.
I began randomly dancing the feathers all across his torso as he
bucked, rocked and cried out with laughter. "Sounds to me like
you DO find this to be funny, Officer McAllister!" I taunted,
enjoying having this jerk at my mercy. My dick pressed hard against
my jeans, thoroughly excited by my discovery of just how unbearably
ticklish officer Jeff was. I moved the feather duster down the center
of his torso stopping for a moment to gently dust his limp cock
which sprang almost immediately to attention. He was giggling and
squirming as I tickled his long, thick shaft and swollen balls,
sensations which apparently got him terribly excited. He cried out
with loud laughter as the feathers danced down his thighs, left
vulnerable by his legs being stretched apart and chained to posts
at the corners of the bed.
As the pack of dancing feathers neared his ankle, he started pulling
wildly on the cuffs restraining his legs.
"No, man, c'mon," he pleaded, "NOT my feet!"
When the feathers began sliding across the top of his bare foot,
he went nuts and really started laughing and thrashing about wildly.
“My, my, my," I taunted, "have I hit upon a particularly
weak spot, my friend?" I dragged the bunch of feathers up and
over his wriggling toes to his waiting, helpless sole. As I tickled
the bottom of his bare foot with the shafts, he roared with laughter
and his whole body arched off the bed in exasperation. He rolled
his foot from side to side trying to escape the feathery touches
so I climbed onto the bed, straddled his ankle with my
knees and held the sides of his foot between my legs while plunging
my feather duster down to his captive sole. He got even more wild,
feeling even more helpless and was in hysterics.
"No, please, stop!" he cried out desperately but his reaction
only encouraged me more. Finally, I dropped the feather duster and
replaced it with my fingertips dancing rhythmically up and down
his quivering sole. He was totally in hysterics and thrashing about
now, the full force of his baritone voice booming out with raucous
laughter. I could barely understand the words escaping between laughs
but it was clear he was begging me to stop. I had a raging hard
on, delighted that I'd turned the tables on this kid, the cop with
an attitude, to the point he was now begging me for mercy.
After a few minutes, I got up and decided to give him a break. "Well,
well, well. Looks like the invincible officer McAllister isn't quite
so invincible after all."
It took him a minute just to stop laughing, every nerve in his body
apparently jolted by the intense tickle attack I'd just delivered.
It took him even longer to regain his breath. Picking up his keys
off the nightstand, I left the room leaving him chained to the bed
to contemplate what I was planning next. I discovered his cruiser
tucked away behind the garage and out of sight of the street. I
got in, started it up and pulled it into the garage to hide it and
not let anyone know whom I had captive. Looking around the car,
I found the clipboard Jeff was holding the night before when he
gave me the citation. Glancing through the completed tickets, I
quickly found mine.
"Something tells me I can get this taken care of today!"
I muttered to myself, thrilled at how my situation was suddenly
looking brighter. Thumbing through the thick mass of completed tickets,
I realized old Jeff had been quite the busy boy. And then I came
across one for Ms. Lila and things started to fall into place. I
theorized he was going to let her buy her way out of the ticket
and she ended up showing him a trick or two.
Stopping off at my apartment to pick up my trusty bag of tickle
toys, I returned to the room with the clipboard in hand. My bound
hunk was still waiting helplessly for my next move.
"Okay, Jeff my boy, are you ready for some fun?" I announced
with an evil grin.He gave a big yank on his chains and demanded
to be let go.
"You know, I don't think you've quite gotten the picture here
yet. You're not in a situation to be making demands, Officer McAllister.
Perhaps I need to make the situation clearer."
I moved toward the bed with my bag.
"No, no!" he cried out. "You've made it perfectly
clear already. You've had your fun tormenting me." His tone
had changed quite a bit. "I don't blame you for taking advantage
of the situation but enough is enough. Please, don't tickle me any
more." He looked rather pitiful and for a split moment, I felt
sorry for him. But then I recalled the previous night and how he
showed me absolutely no mercy.
"Hmm, how can I put this, Jeff," I mused philosophically.
"Let's just say that 'if you sleep with the devil, you're may
just wake up in hell!'"
He rolled his eyes recalling his same statement to me when he had
the upper hand. "Besides," I continued, sitting on the
side of the bed to take off my shoes and socks, "I suspect
I've only begun to scratch the surface of your super sensitive body.
I think there's plenty more fun to be had!"
I punctuated my comment by poking my index finger into his ribcage
which caused him to jump with a start.
"Please!" he pleaded, "I can't take any more. I'm
really too ticklish. Won't
you at least show me some mercy?"
I stood up and unbuttoned my jeans, pulling them down my legs and
allowing my excited cock to spring through the hole in my cotton
boxers.
"I tell you what, my friend," I answered as I climbed
onto the bed and straddled his waist,
"I promise you that I'll show you every bit as much mercy as
you showed me last night!"
I looked at my gorgeous prisoner, his ticklish torso completely
unprotected and vulnerable and smiled wickedly at the feast before
me. I began to run my fingertips slowly across his ripped belly
drawing random patterns in the soft hair swirling across his stomach.
He gritted his teeth and tried with every ounce of strength not
to reveal how bad that tickled. I moved my fingers up his sides
and alternated between poking and light
tapping across his sensitive skin. He yanked furiously at his restraints
and closed his eyes, biting his lip and trying to be tough. I allowed
my fingertips to graze across his chest, enjoying the thick carpet
of hair, encircling his nipples until they grew firm and raised
up, then moving sideways to his open armpits. His whole body tensed
up and he squealed
softly. As my fingers danced through the swirls of hair in his pits,
he began softly repeating "no, no, no" as if trying to
make the sensations go away magically.
"Go ahead and laugh, Jeff," I taunted, "you know
you want to so badly!"
My finger tips moved up his arms dancing across the underneath side
of his muscular upper arms. His chanting sped up and got louder
but soon he couldn't hold back any longer and spewed forth with
laughter. I stepped up the pace and began running my maddening fingers
up and down his whole torso while he roared with laughter and wrenched
back and forth in frustration. I spent the next 30 minutes exploring
every inch of his bound, helpless body while he filled the room
with nonstop laughter and pleading for me to stop.
I knew that this had to be the single worst nightmare this poor
boy had ever experienced. Finally, I climbed off of him and got
my bag from across the room while he worked to regain his breath.
I picked up the book of traffic citations and pulled mine out. Moving
back to the bed, I sat beside his outstretched torso and held my
citation in my hand.
"There's nothing I can do about that!" he sputtered defensively.
"Oh, really?" I asked innocently. "Gee, that's really
a shame. 'Cause it could've bought you a reprieve. Guess there'll
be no rest for you, then." I reached into my bag and pulled
out a fist of various feathers, far more effective and tormenting
than the simple ones used in the feather duster. His eyes opened
wide with horror as I brought them down to his awaiting body.
"No, please, stop!" he cried out. "No more...I can't
stand it...ah hah hahhahhhah!" He dissolved into laughter as
the feathers began dancing across his body. Standing beside the
bed, I would separate the batches of feathers and work on two parts
at once, like his armpit and abdomen. To add insult to injury, I
lowered my head to his ribs and starting nipping playfully with
my mouth which really drove him wild. This phase went on for another
full half hour while he roared with uncontrollable laughter.
When I stopped, I pulled a loaded Polaroid camera out of my bag
and snapped a picture of Jeff bound and smiling widely. He looked
up in horror.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" he cried out, returning
quickly to his cocky
self.
"Insurance," I answered simply. "And you know, I
don't think I've worked you over enough because you still seem to
have quite a bit of attitude. Better step it up." This time
I pulled out a bunch of soft bristled paint brushes and began dragging
them randomly over his body. He was soon in hysterics again.
This pattern continued for another hour and a half, every 30 minutes
or so stopping to see if he'd changed his mind about the ticket.
He was quickly losing his resolve so I kept it up, and snapped a
number of photos from different angles. I finally took out my worst
weapon, a stiff bristled brush, oiled up his tingling soles and
sent him into hysterics by dragging the bristles up and down his
soles. He laughed so hard he went hoarse, his body dripped with
sweat. After stopping, I offered him a break once again if he would
take care of the ticket. This time, completely worn out and seeing
that I wasn't tiring, he finally agreed. He slowly revealed exactly
how to cancel it so it wouldn't come back to haunt me and told me
where in his car my license was. I repeated the action with Lilah's
ticket making sure she was off the hook.
"Okay, now will you fucking let me go?!" he asked dejectedly.
"Oh, I don't know. You see, in a small town like this, retribution
is a very real possibility. That's why I've taken these photographs.
I'm going to take them to the bank now and put them in a safe deposit
box. If you dare ever stop me again, harass me or do the same to
Lilah, I'll pull them out and circulate them to the local newspaper.
I don't think that would be such a good move for your career, what
do you think?"
He just looked at me, obviously pissed but realizing he was in no
position to argue. I put on my pants, retaped his mouth and took
the pictures to the bank, putting them safely in the safe deposit
box. When I returned, I removed the tape again.
"Now in case you're thinking about killing me or anything like
that, you should know that I stopped by my lawyer's while I was
out and put a provision in my will indicating to check the safe
deposit box in case of my death. Furthermore, I gave my lawyer the
key and he put it in his safe so I can only access those pictures
with his cooperation. Any questions?"
He just stared at me, taking it all in and realizing he couldn't
argue. I kicked off my shoes and began removing my jeans again.
"Wait a minute!" he cried out. "What the hell are
you doing? Aren't you letting me go?"
I just smiled. "No, you know, while I was out, I started remembering
how much fun it was to see you humbled and begging and decided I
couldn't let you go quite yet."
"You sonofabitch!" he cried out in exasperation, and began
yanking on his chains again. This time, I dropped my underwear and
removed my shirt so that I was completely naked.
"Hey, wait a minute you homo!" he challenged. "What...what
are you going to do?"
"I still think you need to learn when you have the upper hand
and when you don't, pal!" I answered as I climbed back on top.
I then put him through another grueling two hours of sheer torture,
using every tool at my disposal. I finally needed some relief so
I climbed up on his chest and placed my swollen dick against his
lips. He tried to fight but I just reached down and tickled his
armpits, forcing his mouth open. I continued tickling him while
he--and I found this a tad odd--instinctively sucked me off. I even
snapped a photo of him, eyes closed and my cock in his mouth. I
knew that would be good insurance. As I exploded, I withdrew from
his mouth and sprayed my jism all over his hairy chest.
Falling back, I laid there for a moment and caught my breath while
he did the same.
"Uh, what about me?" he asked meekly.
"Now that's more the attitude, Jeff!" I offered, as I
turned over and picked up a feather. I began stroking up and down
his shaft, reaching underneath and tickling his balls and even dipping
the feather down into the crack of his ass. He writhed and giggled,
both enjoying and hating the sensation. I began tickling his belly
with one hand while rubbing the head of his cock with my other hand
soaked in my own juices. He laughed loudly alternating
between laughter and moaning. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore
and shot his load into the air. Finally I stood up, and sat back
down on the bed beside his torso. I allowed my fingernail to playfully
draw random patterns across his fur-coated chest and belly causing
him to giggle and outright laugh and jump when I'd hit a particularly
sensitive spot. "Now, Jeff, I don't want you to think I'm completely
heartless. In fact, I'm willing to
let you buy back these photos if you'd like."
"How much?" he asked suspiciously.
"Well, they're awfully valuable and it would cost you plenty,
but I know you've got the assets to afford it. You see, all you
have to do is submit to another session like this one and I'll give
you one of the photos. I've snapped a dozen shots so it means you'd
only have to endure a ruthless, merciless tickling session twelve
times and you'd own all the evidence against you."
He rolled his eyes in disgust, realizing that was an awful high
price to pay. But I knew that his honor was at risk and he would
eventually agree to it again. I looked forward to a year full of
these sessions as I unlocked the handcuffs and gave him back his
freedom. He looked incredibly worn out, the thick hair of his chest
and stomach matted and sticky with jism. He was really a mess, and
his clothes were gone. Feeling sorry for the guy, I
grabbed a bath towel and gave it to him. He stood up, his imposing
body standing next to me and he started out the door.
"Bye, Jeff. I really enjoyed this. I'll wait for your call."
He stopped and looked at me in disgust. Then he carefully opened
the door and snuck out trying to get to his car without being seen.
I just smiled and laid back on the bed smiling
from ear to ear.
"You know, I think I'm really going to like living here after
all!" I said out loud and began laughing heartily at how things
had really turned around.
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