Vicki slowly - everything seemed to be slow now - gave into temptation and turned her head. She was able to assure herself that all she was doing was looking toward the woman in authority, as was absolutely proper.

Trevor was leaning back in his chair, his legs together, his pants down. The woman in authority had straddled him, her skirt worked up over her hips, any panties she might have been wearing nowhere to be seen, She was moving rhythmically against him as he sat there, unmoving except for the hand stroking Vicki’s own panties, using him as certainly and as confidently as she might have used any other sex toy.

Vicki was not a voyeuse, but she wasn’t sure it was only her partner’s fingers stroking her that was getting her so excited. The moment as a whole felt not just intimate but correct; it was a clear demonstration of hierarchy, in which she and Trevor were both tools being wielded by authority.

She whimpered at the thought, and the woman in authority glanced up at her off the sound.

She smirked. “Don’t worry, Vicki dear. You’ll be useful to me soon, too.

“I know you want nothing more than that.” Vicki knew that the woman in authority was right. The idea of being useful was a warm pleasure inside her, a delight that she felt would never end.

“Now, Vicki,” the woman said, although her focus still seemed to be on the man she was riding, “Tell me about that sergeant of yours, the one who booked me in.”

“Yes,” she answered. Words began to spill from her lips, the fruit of years of unconscious observations reported succinctly. “White male, in his forties. Married, two children. Sleeping with one of the officers.”

“Is that his wife?”

“No.”

“Go on.”

“Friendly and gentle. Not really cut out for the job anymore. That’s why he works custody these days.”

“Does he take bribes?”

“Only the usual ones.”

The words slipped out without her conscious thought, but her lips tightened afterwards in any case. She could hardly have ignored a direct question from the woman in authority, of course, but all the same it felt wrong to snitch on a colleague.

And yet it was never wrong to follow authority…

Vicki’s head hurt. It would be easier, she thought, to cease questioning anything the woman in authority decided for her.

“And what are the usual ones?”

Vicki began to list them. Every little grace and perk left unquestioned, whether it be money or food or free services, that were part of the life of a cop. Every concession that others wouldn’t get, which some officers started their careers delighted by, others started their careers unsure about, and all ultimately stopped even thinking about.

She hadn’t realised how many of them there were once they added up, but she spoke as prompted. She didn’t know if the tape was still recording or not, but it didn’t matter. She had chosen not to question the woman in authority but instead to listen, follow, and obey.

After the list ended Vicki fell silent, and the woman in authority said nothing, but the room itself was not quite; the soft needy moans of Trevor as he was ridden, the satisfied rasping of the woman in authority’s breath as (Vicki assumed) she tried to keep herself from comment.

She had mentioned Sergeant Bell’s wife and his unfaithfulness. Trevor cultivated a small group of women - lovers would suggest too much attachment, and no formal word applied - but of course letting the woman in authority use him could not be considered a betrayal to any of them.

Vicki wondered why these facts were rolling across her mind, as if they presented a relevant question. If the woman in authority decided to use Vicki, that wouldn’t be a breach of her own faith with her boyfriend. It was the duty of law enforcement to listen, follow, and obey, where Rico was part of her life outside work, however much he fetishised the uniform she wore and however many hints he dropped about the handcuffs.

And then it became clear to Vicki why her mind had taken this tack. With Trevor’s fingers teasing her, with the sight of the woman in authority riding him with absolute confidence and control, she was very, very close to the edge. No wonder her brain had brought up her partner.

She suppressed that train with an effort of will, focusing on following her own directions. She did not have permission to cum, and did not want to embarrass herself with disobedience in front of the woman in authority.

Still she didn’t stop watching the woman in authority riding her partner, even as her delight became more and more visible. When Vicki was sure the woman was about to cum, the woman leaned forward and buried her head in Trevor’s shoulder; he grunted more audibly and his fingers seemed to spasm between Vicki’s legs before he found himself and his fingers recovered their rhythm; the woman in authority shuddered, and if Vicki had not been actively working to obey authority she was sure she would have cum in turn, pushed over the edge by the pleasure of a superior.

When the woman lifted her head the mark of her teeth was clearly visible on Trevor’s shoulder where she had bitten down to muffle herself. She leaned backward against the desk for a few moments, soaking him the way she felt, and then climbed back off Trevor, standing upright if shaky. “Trevor, dear,” she said, “stop stroking Vicki. I want her.”

Immediately his fingers ceased their work, though his hand stayed between her thighs. Vicki caught her breath, finally able to reduce her vigilance just a little.

The woman in authority met her gaze with a grin. “Clean me up, Vicki,” she said.

Vicki stepped forwards off her partner’s hands and made her way around his chair. Squatting in front of the other woman, her knees out wide to either side, she hiked the woman in authority’s skirt up even higher and buried her face in the other woman’s pussy, licking her clean with an obedience that felt to Vicki like devotion, especially as her face became messier.

In due course the woman in authority put her hand on Vicki’s head and moved it backward. Vicki was a stronger woman, but she took her prompting obediently, leaning back on her haunches, looking up from her squat. It came to Vicki that someone seeing her face as she looked at the woman in authority would see nothing in it but adoration.

“Now clean up your partner, dear. He can’t suck it himself, after all.”

Vicki did not rise from her squat, turning on her toes and taking two paces closer before leaning forward and lapping as his cock, still as hard as ever - but then, she was as wet as before; neither of them had permission to cum. And for that matter, Vicki was supposed to enforce that permission for Trevor; worried that her lips and tongue might push him over the edge, just as Rico would always cum quickly if she lowered herself to give him her mouth.

This presented a challenge. She rose slightly in her crouch, lifting her head from his tip, and instead cupped her tits, patting him dry with steadily alternating applications of both. The feel of his precum mixed with the woman of authority’s juices being steadily rubbed into her tits was delicious, and she felt much more confident in her ability to keep him on the edge without allowing him to cum using that technique.

She heard the click of buttons being pushed. Even with her attention elsewhere, Vicki knew the woman in authority had to be fiddling with the recorder. Another button clicked, and she heard her own recorded voice.

“Do you know why you’re here, Mrs Taylor?” Buttons clicked audibly again. The next thing Vicki heard was the woman in authority talking. “You understand the importance of authority. And that’s good. That’s right. You’re law enforcement. You are a channel for authority.”

More buttons clicked, and then the woman in authority said, “I’m about to give the people who you’ll play that recording to some instructions,” she said. “Just so you don’t end up following them, you will not hear again until I touch your foreheads. Do you understand?”

Vicki spoke in answer, but she didn’t hear herself. Then time passed. She continued cleaning Trevor, eventually having to return to using her mouth to get the balls properly clean. At length, the woman in authority touched her forehead.

“As soon as everything is clean,” the woman in authority said, “the two of you are going to cover up a bit, and you’re going to bring your colleagues in here, one or two at a time, to give you advice,” she said. “You will play them the recording. And again, so you don’t end up following the wrong instructions, you will not hear the recording. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Vicki said, and this time she heard herself, and also heard her partner give the same answer.

“You will keep going until the end of your shift,” she said. “You will stop the last people you play it to, and will tell them to follow the same instructions for the new shift. Then you will report to the backstage door of the Beachfront Theatre. Listen, follow, and obey.”

“Yes,” they answered again.

Vicki finished lapping her partner’s balls clean and stood up, putting her uniform back to rights as Trevor did the same, tenting his pants awkwardly over his erection.

The woman in authority had left the room.

*

“Hello, Sergeant. Is this a bad time?”

Sergeant Bell looked up in surprise. The door into the custody suite from the station parking lot was noisy, and a corridor corner meant that there was time to stand up and step over to the desk before being seen whenever someone came in from itt, so he was accustomed to sitting back on a chair a little way from the custody counter and scroll on his phone between times. None of his colleagues would object, but they also usually came in from behind him.

A voice at the custody counter that must have come from inside the station? That threw him, and he was up on his feet and stepping across while the sense of something not quite right was still on him.

Seeing a woman who was supposed to be detained in one of the interview suites, with two officers with her, threw him further off balance. So when she favoured him with a crisp, businesslike smile and extended a hand, he took it.

“I’m glad to have a moment that we can talk alone,” she told him, her thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand. She had him held firmly in her grip; far from uncomfortable, but also secure enough that it would take an effort to pull free. She probably didn’t realise, he thought, meeting eyes that seemed entirely wide open and innocent with his own. “We are speaking alone right now, yes?”

This wasn’t a typical handshake; their hands seemed to be moving in something of a swaying, arcing triangle instead, over and over, the same steady pace each time. He nodded in answer to his question, thinking fleetingly afterwards that perhaps he shouldn’t have, given how strange a question it was. Yet where could the harm be?

“Excellent. That’s so good.” Her free hand had risen up in front of him; it was moving in a different pattern to the one his hand was being shaken in. Distracted, Sergeant Bell started to focus more on her motion than her words, some primal instinct wondering what was going on and what might be done about it.

She said something else. He was dimly aware he’d answered it, but wasn’t sure what she’d asked, or what he’d said in reply.

And then she pulled sharply on the arm she was holding and her other hand tapped him firmly on the forehead and his eyes rolled up in his head to follow her hand as he sank down, tugged down by that sudden sharp pull, and by the time he realised that as she’d done all that she’d told him to sleep he was already deeply, helplessly asleep.

*

“Now, sergeant, dear,” she was saying, “what kind of sergeant are you?”

“Police, ma’am,” he told the woman in authority with all the due deference she was owed.

“Very good. And what is the police?”

“Law enforcement, ma’am?”

“So when someone tells you the law, sergeant, what do you do?”

“Listen, follow, obey and enforce.”

“That’s right. Very good. Now, sergeant, there are other officers here who should know better, and I do have to deal with them. Don’t stop stroking, by the way.” Which was how the sergeant first realised that, as he stood at the custody counter, his fly was open and he was stroking his cock under the counter itself, and had been for some time. “You enjoy that, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s good. That use is lawful, after all. And so is fucking your wife. But Sergeant, what is marriage in the eyes of?”

“The law, ma’am.”

“So listen, follow, and obey the law in future.”

He grunted. It all made sense, logical steps stacked one on another like a sturdy brick wall, but it chafed somewhat. At the same time, she was in authority, and he was listening. He would follow, obey, and enforce. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now. How many different systems has my being here been recorded on?”

If his mind weren’t still deep in the strange state she’d placed him in, this would have been a challenge to answer as he tried to think of each of them individually. Without anything so gauche as thought, information seemed easily accessible, more so than it normally would be.

“And which of those can you edit, Sergeant?”

“Only the custody records, ma’am.”

“Does it seem right to you that I should be in those?”

“No, ma’am.”

“That’s right. So you’re going to delete those when I leave.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Who do I need to speak to for the rest?”

Sergeant Bell was aware that evidence tampering was a crime, but it was an offence ordered by an authority, that didn’t matter. In truth, in Sergeant Bell’s experience, it only mattered when you couldn’t be confident the suspect was guilty, and besides it felt so good and right and freeing to be helplessly stroking his cock at her command, so he was happy to tell her the name of the station’s IT specialist as well as where his office could be found. Then he added “And I think Chief Superintendent Fisher has a lot of access, ma’am.”

“Well, Sergeant,” the woman in authority said, her voice amused and confident, “I’ll speak with you again before the end of your shift. Do make sure your relief stops by the interview rooms to listen to some evidence, won’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The instructions didn’t fully make sense to him, but that was fine. There was no reason they needed to; he just needed to listen, follow, and obey. Not to interpret.

He wanted to cum, but he knew he wasn’t allowed, so he didn’t. He wondered if her belongings were still in the lockbox he maintained, but his pocket felt light and he thought the key might be missing.

He was supposed to report things like that, but without the woman in authority’s permission, he considered it best not to.

*

Chief Superintendent Fisher was accustomed to privacy when her office door was closed. She had a deeply efficient secretary called Hugh, ten years her junior, who fielded a lot of incoming calls and ensured that other visitors were placated for as much time as she needed to be ready for them, and she was highly enough ranked that many other considerations fell below her.

The theory behind such roles is that they can focus on the bigger picture. In practice, Joanne Fisher spent a significant portion of her office time relaxing at ease.

That Saturday she was not relaxing in her office, and in fact wouldn’t have been there at all if she hadn’t needed to cross-check her division’s collated crime statistics before they were passed up the chain. Her secretary had come in (bless him) to support her, and perhaps the most important of his duties was forming a block between her and any other interruptions that might impose.

So when her office door opened, the look she shot at the entrant was initially furious, though she quickly composed herself when she realised she didn’t recognise the visitor at all.

Irregular for anyone to enter without being announced by her secretary. Highly irregular for anyone she didn’t recognise, and Joanne could see Hugh over the woman’s shoulder, seated at his desk, looking calm and placid.

These were certainly mixed messages. At the least, if someone had made it past Hugh, Joanne would have expected him to be looking directly at her and visibly apologetic, not so much because he’d have failed in his job as because he was naturally placatory to anyone he considered his superior. Too, anyone in authority over her was someone she knew, making this woman a member of the public, who Hugh would absolutely not allow to overrule her.

“Good afternoon, Chief Superintendent,” the woman said cheerfully, cutting across Joanne’s whirling thoughts. “I’m sure you’ll excuse the interruption, but this is a matter of some urgency.” With that, she turned slightly and closed the door behind her, cutting them off from Hugh entirely.

Joanne was thrown off what she’d been planning to say. “Urgency?” she asked. She leaned back in her chair, judging that the best way to demonstrate her own authority in the moment; there was no need to rise for this woman. Joanne was always very conscious of her own body language, had had to develop the habit as she rose through the ranks. She wasn’t the youngest woman in her role, but it was a close-run thing.

Her visitor crossed to stand in front of her desk. She wasn’t so tall, objectively, but she stood straight and carried herself with a presence which made her seem much bigger than she was. “I would call it urgent,” she said.

Her voice was soft, but not quiet; she seemed mild while speaking firmly enough that she could easily have cut over any reply of Joanne’s, if she’d started to protest before knowing all the details (as many of her male colleagues, she knew, would have done). She had, Joanne thought, some kind of theatrical training. That much was certain.

“Well, please do tell me,” Joanne said. “And then we can assess what needs to be done.” She was quietly pleased with herself for biting down on the if anything that had almost come out in the sentence. It would have read too confrontationally, and until she knew if this woman had more than a petty complaint she didn’t want to pull that trigger.

“I appreciate that,” the woman told her. She started fiddling with her watch, sliding the watchface up and down across her wrist, the strap loose enough to give her easy movement with it. Every time the face passed back through the middle of its arc, the light glinted off its glass casing. “Many people seem to prefer not to get to it right away. They like a back and forth. And what we need here is focus.”

Joanne cleared her throat. This seemed like more of the back and forth to her. She caught a knowing amusement in the other woman’s eyes. “Yes,” the woman said. “I know. It’s difficult for me to talk about, Chief Superintendent. I have to work up to it.”

Which did also explain the sudden fiddling with her watch; doubtless she was feeling nervous. Not that you could have told through her presentation.

“So,” the woman continued. “I want you to imagine something for me, Chief Superintendent. This morning, I had gone out to eat my breakfast. I was in the same place as two of your officers. I forget their surnames, but you might still know who I mean. Victoria and Trevor?”

Joanne nodded. She wasn’t actually sure - there were enough officers in the station that being familiar with all of them, at her rank, was a challenge, and there were in any case some officers who clearly didn’t like to be noticed by the higher-ups. Sometimes they were working angles, sometimes they were trouble, sometimes they were just people who wanted to keep their head down, get the job done, go home at shift and end collect a paycheque.

If it turned out what they’d done was actually a problem she’d find them.

“So,” the woman resumed. “As I say. Imagine something for me. Imagine yourself in my place.” At least that compulsive toying with her watch seemed to have slowed. The little moments of brightness, the motion as a whole, was now repeated at a slow, smooth, steady pace. Joanne assumed it was calming to the other woman. She could imagine it being calming; it was soothing even her, now, somehow; Joanne was aware that she was probably watching it a little too closely. At least the other woman hadn’t called her on it.

“Imagine yourself suddenly the focus of authority,” the woman continued. “Authority there is no appeal against. Authority you cannot refuse without being punished. Imagine that, Chief Superintendent.

“Imagine how helpless that would feel.” There was a pause. “You felt helpless. You were helpless, Chief Superintendent. Do you understand that?”

Only halfway listening, Joanne nodded agreement.

“Very good. Helpless then, and helpless now. You hold authority, but you are held by it. You are bound by it. I would like to hear you say so. Authority would like to hear you say so.”

“I was helpless then, and I am helpless now,” Joanne said, without really registering what she was saying. “I hold authority, but I am held by it. I am bound by it.”

“That’s very good, Chief Superintendent. Although as your authority, I don’t need to use your title, do I?”

This was another rhetorical question, and Joanne paid even less attention to it than she had to the previous one. She had things to do, but until her visitor left, she was helpless to do them. She was bound by authority. “No,” she said, because that was the answer the woman’s tone of voice told her was correct.

“Very good indeed. Tell me your name, please, dear.”

“Joanne.”

“Joanne. How lovely. Now, Joanne, you’re hearing me but not listening. I can tell your attention is elsewhere. And that’s very good, but it could be better. So you’re going to stand up for me, and while you’re upright you’re going to let your mind go to sleep on your feet, alright? And then we can have a proper chat.”

Joanne was aware, however dimly, that the conversation had taken some sharp enough turns while she’d been staring at the other woman’s watch that it had fully derailed itself. Perhaps more focus would have stopped that. But as it was, the quickest way to get back to what she wanted to do would be to allow this authority whatever she wanted, and then this would be over.

This was, at any rate, the rough substance of her thoughts as she got slowly to her feet. She straightened up, looking slightly down on the woman she had been speaking to, and then her eyelids fluttered and closed, her body swayed a little, and she knew no more.