THE HIGH TABLE

OFFICER BOLT:

My sixth night shift in a row without a single day off. All kinds of fat slobs and bloated drunks picked up off the streets for petty crimes and thrown in the cell. Every night I have to listen to their rowdiness and pound on the cell bars with my baton just to get a little respect and shut them up for a moment. A cop’s job isn’t always as glamorous as many might imagine.

But just as I was about to lose all hope, the patrol brings a young man to the scene. The small man is quiet and shy; he doesn’t make a fuss but sits on his bunk and soon lies down. I scan his small body with my eyes from head to ass… I mean toes, and my cock twitches in the tight pants of my uniform. On top of everything, the only available spot is a small D-cell tucked around the corner in the hallway, hidden from view by the other detainees.

I let time pass until, a few hours later, around 4 a.m., after the boy and the other detainees have fallen asleep, I tiptoe to the cell door, open it, and step inside. I lock the door behind me and make sure the boy is asleep as my hand moves over his back and, exaggeratedly slowly, finally settles on his buttocks. No reaction. I squeeze his surprisingly muscular ass cheeks lightly until I gather my courage and slide my hand under the boy’s waistband, into his pants.

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

Too drunk to resist. Not after last time. Different city. Different cell. Same stink. Same cold concrete sweating through the walls. A metal toilet in the corner like an afterthought. Fluorescent light humming overhead, never quite still. I’m not a loud drunk. Never smashing, never shouting. I fold in on myself. Drift off somewhere quieter, somewhere else. Hands working on autopilot. Shirt. Jeans. Gone. Down to my briefs before I even clock what I’m doing. The bed’s a slab. Thin mattress, if you can call it that. Cold seeps straight through. I lie back anyway. Let it take me.

Dreams claw at me, but the alcohol pins me down, keeps me under. Something new slips in. Quiet. Smooth. I’m somewhere else. A beachside spa. Heat soaking into my back, sun pressing down, heavy and perfect. Hands on me. Firm. Knowing exactly where to press. My muscles give under them, small but solid, worked like they belong to someone who knows what they’re doing. It feels… good. Too good. The hands drift lower. Slower now. More deliberate. The air shifts. The dream tightens, sharpens, turns into something heavier. Something that pulls me deeper instead of letting me float. Then it snaps. Eyes open. The cell crashes back in. The stink. The cold. The light. Fuck. But the feeling doesn’t go. It’s still there. Still moving. Still real. Something’s wrong.

I roll, too fast. The room lurches with me. Head spinning, stomach lagging behind. Still drunk enough that the edges blur, but not gone. Not anymore. Vision swims, then steadies just enough. You’re there. Standing over me. Blocking out the strip light. Too close. Too big in the frame. I blink hard, trying to force the world into place. It doesn’t fully cooperate. Something’s off. Way off. I push myself up on one elbow, body slow to respond, like it’s not fully mine yet. “What’s up, Officer Dickface?” Comes out rough, dry, but it lands. Even half cut, the mouth still works.

OFFICER BOLT:

"Shhhhh... be quiet, so you don't get hurt. I'm just giving you a routine manual exam. It's a standard procedure," I try to reassure you as the palm of my free hand covers your mouth while my fingers slide between your tightening buttocks and gently massage your rose-like entrance. I feel your body tremble as my fingertip pushes a few inches into your opening. "Nod if you’re ready to cooperate. If you don’t struggle, I’ll let you go after the examination."

My cock stiffens and swells inside my uniform pants as I feel the tight entrance of your hole clamping down forcefully around my finger. "Be a good boy. It’ll only take a moment, and then you can go home.” My voice is almost a whisper until your loud moan cuts it off as I push my finger past your feeble resistance deeper inside you. “I can take you to a quieter place if you’re shy here. In the interrogation room, no one can hear or see you. What do you say, little man?"

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

I've been in enough cells to know this isn't right. I squirm. Your grip tightens. Hand covers my mouth as you ask questions you don't want me to be able to answer. Your finger probes, investigates and then invades. I gasp through the gap in your fingers, muscles tightening. Brain trying to wash away the alcohol haze so I can react. My arms reach behind me, mostly aimless but sending a clear message of defiance. My objections muffled by your hand.

That thick finger feels good. It shouldn't, but it does. I won't let you know that. My writhing increases. legs flail, hands find their target and try to push your arm away. My breathing becomes fast, shallow. A conflict of pleasure, pain, fear... and drunk!

"This isn't right. THIS IS NOT RIGHT. Stop this NOW Jack!" my internal monologue claws through the remnants of cheap vodka. My writhing becomes a more forceful bucking. My hands reaching back squeeze your forearm tighter, pressing into the muscle. My mouth forces its way open enough to bite two of your fingers. My teeth clamp down, tearing through skin. The metalic taste of your blood trickles across my tongue.

OFFICER BOLT:

I growl irritably and pull my fingers out of your ass and your mouth, glaring at you furiously. "You just made your choice, boy. I offered you an easy way out, but you chose poorly," I almost whisper in your ear as my arms wrap around your body like a massive embrace, and I stand up, lifting you with me. "I must interrogate you." Accompanied by my sadistic laughter, I carry you out of the cell to the soundproof interrogation room on the opposite side of the hallway and throw your struggling body onto the floor, locking the door behind us.

I turn toward you, unzipping my pants and unbuckling my belt. I step right in front of you until I bend down to grab you by the throat and lift you to your feet, grinning at you. We stare at each other for a moment until my free hand pulls your pants down to your ankles, my gaze shifting to your tiny cock. “You can’t do much with that,” I taunt you as my hand cups your cock and balls.

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

I twist, fight it, but it’s pointless. Your grip is iron. Not just holding me, owning the movement. Every shift I make gets swallowed, shut down before it goes anywhere. I can feel the strength in it, coiled and controlled, tightening just enough to remind me who’s in charge. My legs kick out, wild, useless. Air, mostly. A dull thud here and there that does nothing. “Get off me...” “...you prick...” “...what the...” It all spills out, fast, messy, no filter. You don’t answer. Don’t even acknowledge it. Just walk. Steady. Like I weigh nothing.

Then impact. The floor slams into me, hard, rattling through bone. Breath punches out of my chest in one sharp burst. By the time I suck air back in, you’re already locking the door. Silence drops in behind it. I stay there a second. Winded. Head spinning. Yeah. This isn’t a standard interrogation. But as you undress yourself and strip me, the tiredness and vodka haze clears. It clears quickly. My mind is starting to focus, my resolve hardening, much like your oversized cock. And when you mock my manhood, everything finally snaps into place. Animal instincts kicking in. Deep within me knows that you're minutes away from being destroyed. My eyes clocking every detail. My brain planning every step. Even as I dangle in the air with your hand crushing my neck, I remain calm. "You have no idea what you've done." My voice is hoarse, words stunted by your firm grip. But the message is delivered loud and clear.

OFFICER BOLT:

"I have no idea what I've done? I think I do have it very clear," I chuckle as I turn you on your stomach, take off my duty belt, and climb your back, rubbing my groin against your ass cheeks. Pinning you against the hard floor of the room, my cock slides out from my fly and drills into your tightening crack. "Don't fight back so I don't need to hurt you more", I hiss as I shove my cock deeper until I feel the mushroom-shaped cock head slowly entering into your resisting hole.

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

This is not the first time I've been pinned and fucked. My brain takes the feelings, the emotions, the pain, and boxes it up neatly and tightly. Something for a shrink to deal with in a few years. I lay motionless except for any movement caused by you. I relax my ass. I will make this as unstimulating as possible for you. Limit your enjoyment. The feeling is awful, degrading, humiliating. More filling for the box. More fuel for the inevitable fire. I know I have to take this. I know with each painful thrust of your thick tool we take a step closer to your demise. "Just hold on a few moments longer" I tell myself. My eyes scan the room, store the information. Like a surgeon with a scalpel, I cut through the detail with precision. The key to the door in your pocket. Your duty belt discarded on the floor. Baton. Cuffs. My mind assembles the pieces as your cock ravages my ass.

OFFICER BOLT:

"That´s my boy", I whisper into your ear as I feel your struggles vanishing and your body relaxing, allowing my cock to drill deeper, trying to reach your sweet spot and make your body shiver. I have my arms wrapped around your body, one of my hand stroking your small cock while my own cock is conquering the new areas inside you. I kind of wanted you to fight back more, stimulate my throbbing cock more, but you seem to give up the fight completely. Perhaps better. This way I don't need to be too violent to finish you. Perhaps just snap your neck when it's all over. My thoughts wander until I feel my balls tighten in my sack and a shiver run through my body. I’m close. Really close to ending this little intimate moment with a climax. I pull my cock out of your ass and get up on my knees above you to turn you back onto your back. My cock is ready to spray a thick layer of white male seed all over you. “Open your mouth and catch what you get,” I chuckle as I sit on your lap.

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

Anger builds but I push it down. Your heavy body holds me down, abuses my ass, plays with my limp cock. I don't get hard. I refuse to give you that pleasure. When you flip me onto my back, my eyes meet yours. I can see the excitement and pleasure. Good. You're nearly where I need you. "Just do it!" No emotion, no feelings, just instruction. My mouth opens. I watch your facial expression alter. You're about to cum. Your muscles tighten. The mouth closes. Your hot cum covers my face. And then I feel it. Your muscles relax. Your eyes close and your head rolls back. A moment of pure pleasure. A moment of complete weakness.

Every move I make is clean. Controlled. Practised. I buck hard. Everything I’ve got in one shot. Sudden enough to break your rhythm, to tip that calm balance you’ve been riding. It works. You shift. Just enough. That’s all I need. I roll out, fast, scraping across the floor, hand already reaching. Your belt. Solid. Familiar. I grab as I come up. Feet under me. Somehow steady. No pause. No thinking. In the same motion, the baton’s in my hand. The belt’s gone, flung out of your reach. You’re still recovering, still resetting. I’m already moving. A step in. A swing. It lands. A dull, heavy crack against your temple. Everything goes quiet for a split second after.

OFFICER BOLT:

"Where the heck did this guy go?", is all I have time to think as I begin to get up from the ground. My attempt is interrupted suddenly with a loud thud that sends me first back onto my ass and then fall down on my back against the hard floor. I open my eyes and try to recover from the impact that made me dazed as I see you standing in front of my with my baton in your hand. "Put that down immediately", I order you with a husky voice as I try to get up from the floor.

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

Your lips move. Sound spills out. I don’t hear it. Doesn’t matter. Not part of this. Crack. Same spot. No hesitation. No warning. The baton bites again, harder this time. My arm doesn’t stop, just flows through, rebounds. Crack. Other side. A rhythm now. Clean. Controlled. Almost… effortless. Then the third. Overhead. Down. Crack. Right on the crown. Three strikes. Fast. Precise. Measured. Enough to break you down. Not enough to end it. You sag. Good. Your punishment will be slow, unlike your moment of pleasurable which was unsurprisingly quick.

OFFICER BOLT:

The next hit is even harder than the first one, sending me down onto my stomach on the floor. I raise my arms to cover my head to protect it from any further hits you might have planned to give me. My instincts and my training tell me to roll on my back as soon as possible to see you and be prepared to counterattack. The shy, drunk boy is gone and there is now an angry guy with an evil grin on his face standing in front of me. "Good try, but you must understand you can't win me. So drop the baton and surrender to me before I change my mind," I try to convince you.

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

I see it coming. That instinctive shift. Arms starting to rise. Tuck the chin. Protect what’s left. Predictable. I’m already moving. Light on my feet. Quick. Around you before you can reset. Behind you. Close. The baton snaps across your throat. My other hand clamps down on it, locking it in place. Then I pull. Hard. Your body jolts. Air cuts off sharp. You’re off balance, disoriented from the hits. Hands come up, but they’re late. Slow. I lean back into it, using my weight, my leverage. Tightening. Controlling. Not wild. Not rushed. Deliberate. “You talk too much…” I pull tighter. “Let’s end that now.”

OFFICER BOLT:

"You fucking evil frea..", my voice is suddenly cut when you drill the tip of the baton deep into my throat, damaging my vocal cords, reducing my voice to hoarse gasps. Panicking, I try to grab your tiny body with my giant hands, but you dodge any of my attempts fast. Your feet are close to my knees, giving me an idea to grab you by your shin, trying to make you lose your balance and fall down.

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

The hits did their job. I can see it in you. The lag. The delay between thought and movement. You reach, slow, unfocused. Miss by miles. I’m already gone. Just out of range. Watching you swing at nothing. Then I’m back in. Close again. Hands on your head, locking you in place. You try to pull away, but there’s nothing behind it. No strength. No timing. My knee flies up and smashes into your face. Impact. Your nose implodes. Your body tries to fold, but I don’t let you drop. Not yet. Another knee strike. And another. Controlled. Repeated. Relentless. You’re barely there now. Held upright only because I’m keeping you there. I lean in, breath steady, voice low. “Having fun yet?”. I poke your now soft cock with the baton, pressing firmly. Enough to cause discomfort.

OFFICER BOLT:

I barely can hear your words anymore. The warm blood is running into my mouth as you keep on destroying me. I try to push you away but it´s all futile and to make my humiliation bigger my softening cock starts to leak precum again as my balls rise closer to my body in my low hanging sack.

NAUGHTY MONKEY:

“You going to scream for help?” I let it hang a second, then a faint, humourless smile. “Oh yeah… you put us in a soundproof room.” The irony lands heavier than anything any hit so far. And then wallop. With every ounce of strength I have, I swing the baton and strike the back of your head. You drop face face to the floor. No theatrics. Just gravity taking over. For a second, I stand there, breathing steady, letting the moment settle. There’s a flicker of excitement between my legs. I shut it down. Focus. Stick to the plan.

Published: 2026-04-24, viewed 110 times.