2015-08-15 - lthr_jock - Training the Sergeant Part 10

Author: lthr_jock
Title: Training the Sergeant Part 10
Date: 15 August 2015

Davis yawned as he drove into work - he could swear it was only yesterday that he had left for his 4 day rest period and here he was already driving back in. Worse, he couldn't remember a damn thing he'd done apart from going to the gym and watching TV. What a waste. He parked his car in the stations back yard and got out, for a moment leaning against the car and enjoying the early morning sunshine. He had come straight from the gym so was wearing a white pair of compression shorts and a white Underarmour tank-top that left his arms free. His clothing was clinging tightly to him and left nothing to the imagination as he hefted his kitbag out of the boot and headed into the changing rooms.

Twenty minutes later, Davis stepped out of the shower and headed for his locker. It was still an hour before shift started and so the only person in the locker room was Harrison. He was bent over lacing up his well-glossed boots and looked up as Davis walked past.

'Morning, Sarge - good weekend?'

'Not bad, Harrison - you?'

'Yeah pretty good thanks, Sarge. Did you..err.. enjoy yourself at the mall?'

'The mall? Didn't go there this weekend.'

Harrison looked surprised.

'Sure you did - I spoke to you.'

Davis laughed. 'You must have made some kind of mistake - wasn't me.' With that he turned and started to get dressed. Harrison stared at his back and let his gaze travel down to the sergeants' muscled arse. He checked his phone - yes, there was the picture of Davis in his leather gear. He thought of showing it to Davis, but instead decided to wait. There was clearly something going on, and Harrison was going to find out what it was.

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Eight hours later, the shift was coming to a close and as usual everything had gone wrong just before time to clock off. Davis was driving one of 3 patrol cars that were powering towards a robbery in progress. The dispatcher was relaying the terrified account of a shopkeeper who was watching 5 skinheads beating someone up in the alley beside their shop. Davis took the final corner with a squeal of tires and then screeched to a halt outside the shop, his patrol car parked half blocking the road. He jumped out of the car as the other cars came to a halt behind him and ran towards the shop. As he did so, the shopkeeper came out of the door and pointed back across the road.

'They just ran down there.'

Davis looked around to see four men running down the alley opposite and yelled at his men to follow them. As he turned to tell the shopkeeper to head inside, he saw movement down the alley beside the shop and spotted a tall figure running away. He barked an update into his radio and gave chase. The man had a good 50 yards on him, but Davis found that he was easily able to gain on him. His new exercise regimen was really improving his speed and stamina and he grinned with the excitement of the chase. By the time the man reached the end of the alley, Davis was less than 30 yards behind him and he could see he was wearing the traditional boots, bleached jeans and braces of the skinhead.

'STOP! Police!' he bellowed. The man didn't hesitate, instead shoulder barging the back door of the building he was beside. The door smashed open and he disappeared inside. Davis checked behind him for back up and saw that Harrison was running down the alley towards him, so he headed into the building. The door gave access into a stairwell used as a fire escape. The centre of the stairs was open and he could up the 5 stories of the building. He saw the shape of the man 2 stories above him, so started to run up the stairs.

A few short weeks ago he would have struggled, but he flew up the stairs and by the time he was 3 floors up the man was only 1 floor ahead of him. Downstairs he heard the slam of the door as Harrison entered the building. He carried on up, the heavy footsteps of the man ahead of him clearly indicating he was still running. Then a door slammed and the footfalls became more muted. Davis went up the final flights of stairs and then through the door that the man must have passed through. The door shut behind him and Davis found himself in a darkened corridor with abandoned offices to either side. The floor was clearly in disuse and was lit solely by light coming through the grime-encrusted windows. There was no sound - his quarry had clearly gone to ground.

Davis slowly started walking down the corridor, one hand on his pepper spray desperately listening for signs that the man was lurking in one of the offices to either side. He had gone 20 feet down the corridor when he heard a clock behind him like a lock being engaged. He spun around, but there was nothing behind him. He turned back around and as he did so saw the shadow of someone moving in an office at the end of the corridor. Davis pounded down the corridor and burst into the room. The room was empty of everything except for a large kitbag on the floor and his quarry stood staring out of the window. Davis could now see he was over 6ft tall and heavily muscled. Davis could see the rise and fall of his chest as he panted with exertion. Davis could also smell something over the musty smell of the offices.

'POLICE! You are under arrest. Put your hands on your head.'

The man didn't move and Davis repeated himself. Davis slowly moved forward until he was about 5 feet from the man.

'This is your final warning. Put your hands on your head NOW!'

In response the man turned around. Davis recognised the chiseled features of the Captain, and realised the sweet smell was coming from the lighted cigar the Captain had clenched between his teeth. Before Davis could do anything, the Captain blew a cloud of cigar smoke into Davis' face.

'Hello, Sergeant. Tell me - who is your Master?'

As the sweet smoky smell enveloped him, Davis' eyes glazed over and he slightly slumped where he stood.

'You are my Master.'

'Good. Tell me - should slaves be wearing a uniform?'

'No Master.'

'Then take it off.'

The Captain grinned as Davis stripped naked in front of him. Halfway through, the Captain could hear a pounding from the food to the stairwell - Harrison had clearly reached the top of the stairs and was trying to get through the door that the Captain had remotely locked.

'Your officer would be inconvenient.' He picked up Davis' radio from the floor 'Slave, give the all clear. Tell them something that will make them leave - and not expect to see you again today.'

Davis picked up the radio. 'All clear here - case of mistaken identity. All units report.' He listened as all units reported the same thing - the skinheads had disappeared. 'Everyone head back to the precinct. Jenkins check in with the shopkeeper and get a statement. Harrison, look around for CCTV and then use my car to head back. I've got some enquiries to do here, then I'll head home.'

'You sure you don't need a lift back to the station, Sarge?

'No, Harrison. I'll walk from here. Davis signing out.'

Davis handed the radio back to the Captain who smiled 'Excellent work, slave.' He walked around Davis admiring his muscles and the way that the man was developing. Then he stood in front of him and blew another lungful of smoke into his face.

'Do you like what I'm wearing, slave?'

'No, Master?'

'Why not?'

'Because I hate skinheads, Master. They're vicious, common and cruel.'

'No, you're wrong, slave.'

'Wrong, Master?'

'Yes, slave - you LOVE skinheads. You like everything about them. In fact you want to be one - don't you?'

As Davis inhaled more of the smoke, he nodded 'Yes, Master, I do.' His cock started to rise and the Captain grinned.

'Of course you do. So, I have some skinhead gear with me, slave. Would you like it?'

'yes please, Master.'

'I thought you might.'

The Captain unzipped the kitbag and pulled out a pair of bleached jeans. He threw them to Davis. As he caught them, he realised they were made of thick rubber that had been coloured blue and white to resemble bleachers. After a nod from The Captain, he pulled them on. They were skin-tight and he struggled to get them over his thick, muscled thighs. The waist was narrow and fitted precisely around him. As he zipped them up, his cock swelled and bulged them and he adjusted it down his left leg. Next was a white rubber Fred Perry shirt with the word 'SKINHEAD' stenciled in gothic letters across the back. He pulled it down over his barrel chest and tucked it inside the trousers. The tight white rubber showed off his chest and abs perfectly, his nipples clearly visible through the rubber.

Next the captain handed him long white socks and a pair of knee high Ranger boots. As he laced them tightly on, he licked his lips at the way the white laces stood out against the black leather of the boots. He tightened the laces and then turned the top of the socks over the top of the boots. The Captain then clipped a set of black rubber braces on Davis and stood back to look at him.

'That's good slave - now you nearly look like a skinhead. You have too much hair though.'

Davis ran his fingers through his high and tight.

'What should I do, Master?'

'Well, we could shave your head - but it's too soon for that. I think that if you can't have a properly shaved head, you should probably be hooded, don't you?'

'Yes, Master.'

The Captain pulled out a thick rubber hood and worked it over Davis' head. The hood was jet black with eye and mouth holes and a solid rubber collar. The Captain pulled the zip closed, then secured the collar with a strap and padlock. At the front was a D ring and the Captain used it to pull Davis closer to him. He blew another mouthful of smoke into Davis' face.

'Good - that looks much better, slave.'

He picked up Davis' uniform and piled it into the kit bag after removing a final couple of items. He then locked ankle shackles on Davis' booted feet and used rigid handcuffs to secure his hands behind him. He then slid a black rubber ball gag into Davis' mouth and strapped it tightly in place. He then clipped a chain leash to the front of Davis' collar and lead him out of the building.

The Captain confidently led the rubbered form of Davis to an SUV parked up around the corner. There, he put Davis into the back seat before driving away.

Behind him, Harrison stepped out from behind a dumpster and made a note of the registration number. He looked at his phone and replayed the video he had taken of the skinhead and the strange man in rubber as they left the building. Although he couldn't see the latter's' face, he was sure that it was Davis. 'What on earth are you up to, Sarge?'