“Sir, could you please step out of your vehicle?”

Dylan froze, too confused to react or think. What? Why would...

“Sir?” She asked again, more insistently. Dylan looked up at her. She had been pretty easy going when she first pulled him over, maybe even a little flirty. But now the blonde state trooper’s expression allowed no argument.

She was a stocky woman, probably had a fair amount of muscle under her uniform, which was a bit more snug than Dylan would have expected. Her hair was in a no nonsense ponytail, and Dylan guesses she was in her mid theories, around ten years older than him. He hadn’t caught sight of her name-tag yet.

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” He set his phone down on the passenger seat as he opened the door and got out of the car. It hadn’t gotten any bars for miles on this lonely stretch anyway. “Is there a problem?”

“Please put your hands on the roof of the vehicle.” She had taken a step back. Dylan was suddenly quite discomforted by his inability to see her eyes behind her sunglasses.

Wordlessly, he complied. He was just glad it was a cloudy enough day that his car’s black roof wasn’t burning hot. One bit of good luck when he was in the middle of a lonely Arizona highway.

She was there, right up to his back and patting him down. It started so fast that Dylan couldn’t help but jump.

“Hold still, please.” It was an order, despite the last word. Dylan mumbled an apology as her hands thumped all over him. He just prayed she didn’t touch his crotch, he didn’t want her to notice his stiffening—and there it was. She snorted with amusement when she felt it, even gave it an extra couple of pats, which Dylan really could have done without.

Eventually, she finished. But Dylan’s sigh of relief was immediacy transformed to a surprised cry when she grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind his back and slapped a cuff on it.”

“Dylan Brown, there is a warrant out for your arrest. You have the right to remain silent...” She grabbed his other arm, it was behind his back and cuffed to the other before he could even think. An arrest warrant, what the fuck? She was still going through the Miranda warning and Dylan was still trying to make sense of it.

“Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?” She was holding him against the car now, keeping him there with her own body. Dylan could feel her breasts on her back, her knee between his his legs.

“No!” He finally exclaimed. “Arrest warrant?! What did I do? What’s going on!?”

One of her arms left her hold as she reached for something. Oh god, was she getting a taser?

“I said,” and Dylan found that instead of a taser she had pulled out a ballgag when she forced it into his mouth and pulled back hard, “that you have the right to remain silent. Got that crook? Do you understand now?”

Dylan cried out as she buckled the straps tight behind his neck. She paid him no mind, ripping him away from his car, from his phone, from any chance of calling for help. Then she marched him over to her patrol car. Dylan tried to struggle, tried to weasel out of her grip and kick at her legs. Nothing worked, she knew what she was doing, and before Dylan knew it, he found himself flung into the backseat of her vehicle.

“Get comfy, bitch,” Dylan’s captor ordered. He twisted around just enough to see the horny grin on her face. “I’ll be processing you myself.” Somehow Dylan doubted she meant that in any official or legal sense.

The door slammed shut.