The House of Elyot

Epaulettes

Posted on: December 12, 2010

I love that word. I love the thing it means. And it’s turning out to be an epauletted December, one way or another, what with Uniform Behaviour ready for download, and now another anthology, Ultimate Uniforms out tomorrow from Xcite books.

Check out that cover – the eye is certainly drawn to…the uniform…(Actually, I’m loving those PVC gauntlets, not sure what uniform they belong to though.)

My story is called The Arresting Officer, and you can probably glean from the title that it involves a police uniform. Here’s the lowdown:

Imogen sets out to save the ancient tree from the bulldozers, but ends up being saved herself by high-school flame Jason Sargent, who now happens to be a sergeant. The pair has some unfinished business and neither can think of a better place to clear things up than the police station interview room. Jason’s interrogation techniques have Imogen revealing all in no time …

As ever, mine is just one of a plethora of tempting tales. Expect smartly-dressed hotness from: Chrissie Bentley ; Shashauna P Thomas ; Garland ; Thom Gautier ; Rachel Charman ; Landon Dixon ; Courtney James ; Lynn Lake ; Beverly Langland ; Tara S Nichols ; Sadie Wolf ; Cyanne ; Elizabeth Coldwell ; Sophia Valenti ; Charlotte Stein ; Sommer Marsden ; Lily Harlem ; Heidi Champa and Teri Fritz.

A bit of interview room action for you here:

“Twenty minutes later, I sit, still cuffed, slumped in a plastic chair in an interview suite.
‘You had better be bloody quiet,’ Jason warns me, locking the door behind us. ‘These rooms are usually pretty vacant at this time of day, but I’ve asked Nicki at the front desk to come and give us a knock if there’s a risk of disturbance. She’s a good sort. She’ll cover for me.’
‘I hope so.’ I beam up at him as he takes a seat opposite me, then remember to get back into role. Sulky unco-operative suspect faced with powerful, sexy, authoritative man wearing a big utility belt. The stuff of illicit fantasies. ‘And before you ask, no comment.’
He recovers well from a flicker of bemusement and leans across the scuffed table, banging it with his fist.
‘I’ll break you, Imogen Lovell, if it takes me all day and all night. Where are the secret plans?’
‘NO comment!’ I flick a V at him, which is not easy when your wrists are weighed down by several pounds of heavy metal.
‘Right, that does it. Time for the strip search. Get on your feet.’
‘Make me,’ I grouse. He does. He comes around behind me and yanks me out of the chair, kicking it aside before patting his hands down the length of my body, airport security style, but with a substantially increased accompanying frisson. Finding nothing, he pulls my sweater up over my bra and peers inside the cups for contraband.
‘Only my nipples there, Sergeant,’ I taunt. ‘Is that not what you’re looking for?’
‘I thought they were bullets,’ he says gruffly. ‘My mistake. Might as well get this off anyway.’ He unclips the bra, pulls the sweater over my head and tries to wrestle them over the handcuffs, but to no avail – so they have to remain there, bunched and hanging off my wrists while my upper body is bared and vulnerable to the explorations of his big, brawny hands. He presses them into my breasts, squeezing and fiddling, tickling my nipples until I squirm and try to break free. But he is far, far too strong for that.
‘Nothing to hide there,’ he decides. ‘But I bet I’ll find something I’m looking for down here.’ He has my jeans unbuttoned in an instant, and he wrenches them down to my ankles before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of my knickers. ‘Well, Miss Lovell? Anything to confess before I have to force the issue?’
I shift from foot to foot, acutely aware of my ankles and wrists restrained by denim and metal respectively, embarrassed by the stain of arousal he will doubtless see and approve of when he denudes my privates of their scanty covering.
‘I am strangely attracted to you, officer,’ I admit. He laughs and pulls down my knickers. The invasive section of the body search commences with three of his fingers dipped in my copious juices.
‘So you are,’ he murmurs victoriously. ‘You’re soaking wet down here. Well, I think I know just how to deal with you now.’
I pivot forward, loving the feel of his exploratory fingers, just on the right side of harsh as they twiddle my clit and slide backwards towards the hidden depths.
‘Anything to declare up here?’ he asks lightly, spearing my cunt with two thick fingers. ‘Oh, no, there is nothing hidden here. And you can’t hide the fact that you want me to fuck you either. I’ve never known a hornier dissident.’
I giggle. ‘No, I bet you haven’t. Oh, officer, please don’t!’ I exclaim, remembering that I probably shouldn’t be quite so happy with the situation.
‘So if the secret plans aren’t up here,’ he says, finger-thrusting energetically while he pushes me down over the desk with a clank of cuffs. ‘Where are they?’
‘I don’t know!’ I cry feverishly. The metallic fetters press into my breasts, cold and hard, reminding me of my helpless condition.
‘Tell me!’ One big flat hand crashes down on my unprepared bottom. I yelp so loudly that Jason retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffs it into my mouth. ‘Quiet!’ he scolds before laying on more hard smacks. How unfair! How am I supposed to confess now? Even if I want to?”

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