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Johnny Bananas

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Johnny Bananas

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Fully geared solid cop

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Submissive muscle cop can't help but smile after being called a good boy.

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Turning the tables on the hunky cop that pulls you over.

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Detective Mark Thompson was the envy of the station, with his sculpted physique, chiseled jaw, and confident swagger. Known as the best-looking guy in the department, he exuded an air of invincibility. But beneath the surface, Mark was a man on the brink of desperation. The economy had taken a turn for the worse, and despite his dedication to the force, he found himself struggling to make ends meet. Bills were piling up, and the bank was threatening to foreclose on his home—a home he shared with his two teenage sons, Tommy and Jake.

The realization that he could lose everything pushed Mark into a world he never imagined entering. It began with a friend suggesting he leverage his looks and body for some extra cash. Modeling seemed harmless enough, and with his physique, the offers came quickly. The first shoot was simple—shirtless photos that showcased his muscular build. The money was good, and it offered a temporary reprieve from his financial woes.

But as the weeks passed, the demands grew more intense. The bank’s threats became more urgent, and Mark needed more money. He started accepting more risqué shoots—posing in tight underwear, then nude. Each time, he told himself it was for his sons, to save their home, to keep their lives intact.

The photos found their way online, catching the attention of admirers and opportunists alike. One of the janitors at the station, Miguel—a portly, middle-aged Mexican man who harbored a grudge against Mark for his casual racism and cocky attitude—came across the photos. He saw an opportunity for revenge and leverage.

One evening, after most of the officers had left, Miguel approached Mark in the locker room. The air was thick with tension as Miguel’s eyes bore into Mark’s.

“Detective Thompson,” Miguel began, a sly grin spreading across his face, “I stumbled upon something interesting today. Some… photos of you.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Miguel pulled out his phone, showing Mark a series of photos from his latest shoot. “These,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “It seems like our hero cop has a side hustle.”

Mark’s face flushed with anger and shame. “What do you want, Miguel?”

Miguel stepped closer, his grin widening. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, or these photos will end up in the hands of your superiors, your sons, and all over the internet.”

Mark clenched his fists, but he knew he was trapped. “What do you want?” he repeated, his voice low and defeated.

Miguel’s eyes sparkled with malice. “You, Detective. I want you.”

The realization of what Miguel was demanding hit Mark like a punch to the gut. But he had no choice. For his sons, he would have to submit.

The first encounter was in the dark, dingy janitor’s closet. Miguel’s hands were rough, his touch invasive and possessive. Mark’s body, usually a source of pride, now felt like a prison. Miguel took his time, relishing the power he held over the once-cocky detective.

“Strip,” Miguel ordered, his voice thick with anticipation.

Mark’s hands trembled as he undressed, each article of clothing falling to the floor with a finality that made his heart ache. He stood naked before Miguel, his powerful body exposed and vulnerable.

Miguel’s eyes roved over Mark’s form, his grin widening. “On your knees.”

Mark complied, the cold linoleum biting into his knees. Miguel unzipped his pants, his cock hard and ready. He grabbed a handful of Mark’s hair, forcing his head back. “Open your mouth, slut.”

Mark’s jaw ached as he complied, the taste of Miguel’s cock filling his mouth. Miguel thrust in, his pace brutal and unrelenting. Tears sprang to Mark’s eyes, but he forced them back, determined not to give Miguel the satisfaction.

“You look so good like this,” Miguel taunted, his voice a harsh whisper. “Just a cocky cop, reduced to a whore.”

The humiliation was overwhelming, but Mark focused on his sons, on the home he was trying to save. Miguel’s thrusts grew more frantic, his grip on Mark’s hair tightening. With a guttural moan, he came, filling Mark’s mouth with his cum.

Miguel pulled out, leaving Mark panting and trembling. “Clean yourself up,” he sneered. “And remember, this is just the beginning. You belong to me now.”

The encounters continued, each one more degrading than the last. Miguel took perverse pleasure in making Mark submit, using him whenever and however he wanted. The janitor’s closet became their regular meeting place, the scene of Mark’s ongoing humiliation.

The money from the photoshoots helped, but it wasn’t enough to stop the foreclosure. Mark’s situation grew more desperate, and Miguel’s demands became more extreme. He forced Mark to wear a collar, to crawl on all fours, to beg for every degrading act.

Miguel took photos and videos, using them as further leverage. Mark’s once-proud body was now a tool for Miguel’s amusement, his dignity stripped away piece by piece.

But Mark endured, for his sons. Every degrading act, every humiliating encounter, he endured it all to keep their home, to keep their lives together. The man who had once been the hero of the station was now a broken, humiliated shell, living a nightmare for the sake of his family.