TASKFORCE

TASKFORCE

PART FOUR

Chapter Fourteen

       Fuck, the damn pillars going to stay empty for awhile, he thinks to himself.  A bunch of cash money and one Hell of a blow job from a dyke and that girl’s already history.  Watching out the windshield as he drives the limo with one arm hanging out the driver’s door window with the glowing cigarette in his fist, the chauffeur sets across the front seat beside him hanging onto a hand strap, his knuckles white, the just emptied Budweiser can rolling back and forth across the seat.

       “What the fuck!… This thing handles like a tank!”  He almost shouts across to the not so amused passenger as the four ton behemoth rolls around the curves, the obvious sound of a hubcap slamming off a guardrail into the weeds.  “How the Hell you drive this thing for a fucking living?”

       His head shaking, not so much as an answer but more like a reflex of panic as the speedometer remains buried, the chauffer can’t believe the Mistress of the house gave him permission to drive her limousine back to where ever the fuck he’s going.  Eyes widening as they somehow clear an oncoming marked Sherriff’s car around a thankfully not so sharp curve, head jerking back, seeing the blue lights instantly flashing, the brake lights simultaneously brightening, he can only glare toward the madman driving his limousine, thank God not his responsibility.

       “Fuck!... Goddamn it!... He’s turning around!... Shit!”

       Feeling the brakes slammed on, along with hearing the driver’s rant, the chauffeur’s head nearly hits the windshield as his body stretches the seatbelt.  Looking over at the driver smacking the steering wheel with one hand, practically chewing on his cigarette in the other hand pressed against his mouth, their eyes lock as dust rolls past the limo coming to a rest nearly sideways in the ditch.

       “Switch!”

       “Wh…What?”  The chauffer almost chocks, looking, staring into the squinting eyes. “Do… Do what?”

       “Fucking switch with me boss!”

       Not believing what he just heard, glancing back, seeing the headlights, the flashing bar lights still in the distance but fast approaching, he stares back at the driver.  “I… I don’t think so!... I… I…”

       “I fucking do!”  He buts in.  “I sure as Hell don’t want to be in any trouble for this shit… It’s your fucking car asshole!”

       Still the almost insane look, now a nine millimeter in the driver’s right fist, the chauffeur feels the dampness in the crotch of his pants, stutters…Wha… Wha…Oh…Shit!”

       “Gotcha… Boss!”  A silly grin on his face, a final puff on the butt, he flicks it out the window, glances into the outside mirror as the marked cruiser rolls up behind them, slides to a stop.  “Shut the fuck up and at least toss my Bud can under the seat… Let me do all the talking… Just nod when I look at you… Understand boss?”  He rattles off with both hands on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping.

       The door slamming behind them, the uniformed officer hastening toward the driver’s side, his weapon already drawn, he’s practically spitting as he yells.  “You fucking nuts?... You damn near killed us all back there!”

       The quick spur of the moment plan with his arm shoving out the window and his badge case in hand, the gold shield flashes in the officer’s flashlight.  Leaning his head out the window, politely, calmly, he asks.  “Officer… How you doing tonight?”

       “Wha.. What’s this?”  The voice still angry but not quite as forceful, the light shinning closer on the badge, he shines it into the driver’s eyes, over toward the chauffeur.

       “It’s okay officer… You’re not in any trouble!”  The driver politely adds.  “You’re obviously just trying to do your job!”

       “What?... In trouble?”  The officer smirks, yet the hint of uncertainty in his voice as he stands beside the car door, flashlight still shinning on the badge and ID as he has a little problem slipping his service revolver back inside his holster.

       “This here’s the chauffeur for the Governor’s wife… He’s kinda’ under the weather and I’m trying to get him back to the capitol… Yea… And he’s going to be needed bright and early tomorrow morning!... Some kind of secret shit… Yea… Something about a present or something for their anniversary, I don’t know… But anyway… It’s still a long drive… So you done here?” Glancing over toward the chauffeur, a nod.  “Ain’t that right?... We need to go?” 

       “Done?... Wha.. Well… Well how about taking it a littler easier then… Okay?” The officer mutters, still obviously pissed along with confused as he glances at the nodding passenger while also obviously somewhat intimidated by the gold shield, the name dropping.

       “Try too boss… Gotta get there though!”  Mashing the pedal, gravel spurting as the eight doored Limo lunges back onto the blacktop, he yells out the window.  “Be careful out there… Might be some drunks on the road tonight!”  Slipping a fresh Marlboro between his lips, the dash lighter shoved in, the dust swirls behind the lunging Limo.  Glancing over at the chauffeur’s white knuckles gripping the hand strap again, he yells.  “That’s it boss… Hang on!” Lighting the cigarette, a deep drag, he glances over.  “Wanna stop at a titty bar later?”

Chapter fifteen

       Setting back, not really understanding why the chauffeur hadn’t taken him up on his offer but dropped him off at home instead, he watches the girls on the trio of poles, the various stages of their rotating three song gigs as they strip.  The other girls circling, the compulsory offers of lap dances, the flirtations like he’s more special then any other dumb bastard in the club, he pretty much ignores the basically naked girls, still tosses a few bucks their way, as after all they’re all trying to put themselves through college, just ask them.  Besides, he’s got a wad of cash on him to blow anyway.

       Drinking a couple screwdrivers for starters, liking the taste of orange juice, he could use a cigarette but smoking now being prohibited in the liquor establishments thanks to the votes of those fucking liberals worrying about his health, he checks his watch, still just after midnight.  A short excursion into the parking lot, a quick smoke, he steps back toward the entrance.

       “Dude… Looking for some action… Weed… Meth… H… What?... I can get it all!”

       Glancing toward his side, the burley bouncer the size of a tree trunk leaning against the wall like Joe badass, his sleeveless arms folded across his chest, repeats.  “I said… What cha’ looking for man?”

       Showing the stamp on his wrist, starting back toward the club’s entrance, the bouncer grabs his arm.  “Hey… I’m talking to you Bud!”

       Eyes barely chest high with the guy, glancing up into his wide pupils, he answers.  “Hey man… Talk like that shouldn’t be out front near the door… Come over here to the side… Be discreet.”

       “Okay punk… Whatever.”

       Walking ahead, turning the corner, he lets the bouncer bump into him.

       “Hey asshole… “Aaagghhh!”  The bouncer’s voice almost a squeal, his foot stepped on, actually the instep, and not accidently.

       Letting him barely get the words out of his mouth, grabbing between his thighs, gripping, twisting, he has the two-forty, two-sixty pound tough guy on his tiptoes whining like a bitch.  Feeling the testicles grinding in his fist, another sharp twist, he forces him to tiptoe even higher.

       “Hey asshole?… You know me?”

       Tears already crossing his cheeks, his hands practically limp at his sides, the bouncer shakes his head aggressively no.

       “Why you fucking with me then?... Calling me Bud?...  And do I look like a punk to you?”

       Another jerking nod back and forth accompanied by a grunt, the not so tough guy cups his hands together in front of him, whimpering as his fingers flex in pain.

       Slipping a fresh cigarette in his mouth, lighting it with his free hand as he slowly shakes his head back and forth while he scans the dimly lit parking lot, he almost whispers.  “You need some more lights in the lot… You know that?... Tell your boss, okay?”  A couple more studious puffs as he continues to keep a vice like grip across the man’s twisting trousers with his other hand; he again stares up into his eyes.  “Now… You as much as look at me the rest of the night, I’ll stuff these motherfuckers down that big ass mouth of yours… Understand?”

       Watching a nod up and down by the big guy, at his body actually trembling, another slow draw on the Marlboro, flicking it into the parking lot between a couple parked cars, he adds.  “I’m going to let go now… And if you’re really stupid… You’ll piss me off… Otherwise turn and leave me the fuck alone!... By the way… It’s illegal to fucking sell drugs out here… Especially to a Goddamn cop!”

       Releasing his grip on the trousers, its bruised contents, he momentarily flicks his shield open from the leather badge case, lets it glisten under the building’s neons before slipping it back inside his rear pocket.  Shaking his head back and forth, stepping back around the corner without a care in the world, he enters the club.  Back at the table he had left for a quick smoke, sitting facing the third pole he nods toward the seminude waitress with the high school look, orders another screwdriver while still thinking of the ex-jock outside, fucking punk!

       Keeping to less then a dozen drinks, not counting his Budweiser’s earlier, wanting not to drive under the influence, too much, he closes the club with the best two looking strippers on his arms, at least the two with the biggest tits.  Driving his own car, a vintage sixty-seven Corvette 427 tri-power, three way black convertible, and having the largest breasted stripper ride the hump beside him behind the four speed Hurst shifter between the bucket seats, he lets her shift his gears on the way to his house, the car’s too.

       Spending the rest of the night in the sack with both, then sleeping well past noon, he kicks them out of bed after a final threesome, gives them some cab fare and the use of his cell phone.  A generous tip as they wait for their ride, for some reason he finally asks them their names, Mercedes and Tiffany, imagine that!  As they’re leaving he quips to them he’s not paying them for the sex, just to leave after it.  Not understanding why they found that so funny, he thinks to himself that he’s actually serious!  Both acting eager to hook up with him again, that he’s a fun guy, he blows them off for the time being, knowing they mean he’s a fun guy with a lot of loose change.  Anyway, he has other plans; he has pillars to fill with some other skank.

Chapter Sixteen

       A beat up fucking Hyundai, probably the very first one off the boat.  All he needs now is some tape to slip across his eyelids he thinks to himself as he leaves the police impounding lot, his old recruit class buddy smiling, getting a good laugh at his expense.  He’d felt sorry for him but the bastard deserves to be assigned to the impounding lot, maybe the Chief will keep his ass there, he’ll have to remember to ask him too.  The turquoise four door stick barely able to get out of its own way, at least it has tinted glass, no one can fucking see him.  Screwing with the radio stations, not even a fucking lighter; he wonders if he’ll have to pedal the damn thing to go up a steep hill.

       Another donut shop, picking up a whole overstuffed cherry coffeecake covered with powdered sugar and a chocolate milk, of course low fat, it’s an afternoon breakfast fit for a cop with a slight hangover. Breaking off a chunk of cake, he drives to the warehouse.  Once inside, setting, eating the rest of the cake smothered with glazing and crème, sans napkins, the shit getting all over his shirt, he’s pissed the dumb cunt didn’t put any in the pastry box.  Glancing at the empty pillars he thinks about going back and getting the bitch and tying her between them, half kiddingly.  Finishing the half gallon of milk with a final couple gulps, lighting a Marlboro, he glances into the mirror, at the red, the brown smeared across his once white t-shirt, what a fucking mess.

       Swiping across his mouth with the bottom of the shirt, wiping his hands next with it, he opens his laptop.  Running a few inquires between licking the remnants of the sticky shit from between his fingers, its time to get serious.  Scanning the courts, the bails, who didn’t show up, figuring who’s next, picking him out’s easy, it’s time to get back to work.  Calling the bail bondsman on his cell, finding out who signed for the asshole, their address, he jots down the information, in his mind.  A photographic memory makes life easier, especially for a cop.

       Shaking his head as he slips into the Hyundai, he sarcastically hopes the rubber band doesn’t break as he starts the engine.  The muffler a little too loud, a tad of smoke and it’s off to the chase.  Christ’s sake, Colombo’s car looked like a Ferrari compared to this thing.  A cigarette, reflexively reaching down to the ashtray, pulling it open, again he’s confounded.  A fucking ash tray in the dash he realizes, but no place for the damn lighter, stupid fucking Nips.

       Spending the rest of the day going over reports, even old newspaper stories with some interesting photos, getting to know the asshole a little better, he thinks to himself this is one guy that’s a real piece of shit, his family not much better.  Second generation immigrants from the Eastern block, already wealthy from old money, they still had to fuck a bunch of elderly people out of their life savings, even cost some of them their houses they worked all their lives for.  Married into another wealthy family also from the same geographical area, the families combined are no better then the mob, even worse.  He’s probably already absconded back overseas.  But, that’s okay, at least the women are good looking, and more then one, and they’re still living in their big houses.

       A couple, few days of watching, observing, his luck holds, even without rain.  Two cousins, a girl from each family are no brainer choices.  Both hot, one’s the daughter, the other’s a niece.  Both seniors in the same private high school, both appear to think their shit doesn’t stink.  They’ll be easy to nab, especially since they like to use fake ID’s to get into clubs around the university area at least a couple times a week.

       Friday or Saturday night will be perfect.  They’ll head for the club on at least one of those nights.  They don’t know it yet but an undercover officer will check their false ID’s and have to apprehend them.  And, once they’re abducted, the fucking Hyundai will be crushed.

Chapter Seventeen

       Out in the lot, waiting for the girls, he watches as he stands outside his car, way outside since he left it down the street.  Friday having passed, the girls a no show, he’s almost certain tonight’s the night.  The black SUV’s bound to show up.  Watching the pair of driveways, keeping his eyes on dark, large vehicles, he finally notices the girls in the front seats of the car turning into the drive.  Letting them park, take a minute or so to arrange themselves, exit the doors together, he steps toward them.

       “Evening girls… Some I.D?

       “What… Who are you?”  The driver, long dark hair, olive toned skin and dark brown eyes asks, almost rudely.

       “Yea!... What’s this all about?”  The other girl barks, about the same height, looking more like her sister then cousin.

       Flashing his gold shield, glancing from one too the other, he scolds.  “I’m the man… The man who’s going to lock your little asses up and have mommy and daddy come and get the two of you!... That’s after I seize your fake ID’s the club’s reported you’ve been using.

       Their eyes widening, instantly obvious they think they’re in trouble; they look at each other, back toward him.

       “Back in your vehicle… We’re going to the precinct… Now!”

       Like clock work, both obeying without the slightest problem, he follows them back to the SUV, orders both to get in, the back seat.  “Keys… I’ll drive!”  He sternly orders, taking the keys from the girl’s hand.

       Getting in, starting and driving off the lot, halfway down the street he stops, turns toward them.  “I can’t get into any trouble, hands together… Procedure!”  Slipping a pair of handcuffs out, he snaps one across one girl’s left wrist, the other on the other girl’s right.  “Back to back… Now!” One hesitating, the other not, he slips a second handcuff out, snaps it on the girl’s free wrists forcing them to seat on the seat, shoulders together.

       Almost too easy, driving down the street and fighting the urge to smoke, realizing the car’s going to be found, he refrains as he listens to the girl’s whining.  Stopping on an isolated street, reaching around, slipping a blindfold on one girl, then the other, he ignores their ramblings, forces ball gags inside their mouths.  Driving on to the old factory, he delivers his goods.  The car returned to the parking lot, wiped clean, wiped clean a second time; he strolls down the street to his car, returns to the cell in the basement.

       Unlocking the door, seeing the pair of girls facing one another shackled to the pillars with their arms behind the posts, he smiles at the thought this is the first time both posts have been used with separate women, or girls at the same time.  Shutting the door, stepping to the pillars, slipping the masks from their eyes, their wide eyes, he smiles as they grunt simultaneously through the gags as they glare pleadingly toward each other.  Wasting no time, a box knife in hand, a craftsman utility knife, he knows its effects psychologically can be profound.

       Starting with the girl to his left, the daughter, he grips the bottom of her halter, lets the glistening blade rip upward through the material, between her breasts, cutting through the material of her bra at the same time.  Jerking the jagged cloth from her chest, leaving her breasts exposed, he’s taken by their natural firmness, the dark areolas perfectly centered on the almost round mounds jaunting outward.  Watching her eyes following the blade, her stomach flexing, sucking in as he lets the blade glide downward past her navel, pressing inward, leaving the slightest red streak, not quite a scratch even, he rests the blade against the belt of her short shorts.

       Glancing into her eyes, unfastening the belt with his free hand, he leans close to her face, rasps.  “Later, I’m going to whip your tits with this belt… If you’re good, I won’t use the buckle end.”

       Her eyes widening as he expected they would, getting her full attention, basically terrorizing her, he realizes he should be getting the same effect from her cousin.  Sliding the belt through the loops, jerking her shorts down across her hips, a thumb through the upper string across her hip from the red thong and he tugs outward, slashes it with the blade

       “Oomph!”  The tip of the blade nicking her thigh, just a dribble of blood and he hears the girl’s voice behind him also grunting.  The intentional ‘accidental’ nick, another good tactic to scare the shit out of them and he kneels, slips her shoes from her feet.  Glancing at her bikini cut, the dark short hair perfectly cropped in a narrow patch directly above the part of her slit,  he notices the puffy folds, nice and tight, obscuring her clit completely, for the time being.

       Standing, admiring her youthful body now completely naked, the tears streaking across her cheeks, he glances her over as he tilts his head, smirks.  “Ever eat her pussy?... Bet you have… Huh?”

       Face reddening, actually a deep blush, he realizes his joke’s probably not.  Glancing back toward the other girl behind him, her face not the slightest of a tint but an awkward kind of smile, he smiles himself, reaches in his shirt pocket for his Marlboro.  “Damn… Munchers!”

       A quick puff, the cigarette dangling from his lip, turning toward the other girl, the box cutter in hand, he slips the blade beneath her tank top.  Letting it slide through the obviously expensive material like a knife through butter, watching the silk flow apart, glide across her braless breasts, he holds the knife steady as she arches her chest outward, her sternum touching the sharp tip, a gold stud glistening from deep on her right nipple.  Glancing into her deep dark eyes, wide but somehow not the look of terror, not even of fear, but some kind of kinky excitement, he watches her eyes darting down toward the gag, her grunts almost understandable pertaining to the gag.  Reaching behind her neck, he undoes the gag’s straps.

       The ball falling from her yawning lips, she glances down between her breasts, back up into his eyes as the curling tip of her tongue slowly circles her mouth.  “You want to hurt these?”  Almost a seductive whisper, her lips becoming pouty as she glances down toward the parted material spreading around her outthrust breasts, she repeats.  “My titties… You going to hurt them aren’t you?... Can I have a drag on that first?”

       Slowly reaching toward his mouth for his cigarette with his free hand, staring straight into her dark eyes, another long draw, slipping it from between his lips, twisting the butt toward her red lips, he watches with a strange interest as she puckers, tilts her head forward.  Herself taking a long draw, turning her head, a sort of ‘O’ ring of fluttering hazy smoke actually curling from her mouth, she lets her lips part, the Marlboro dangling from her lower lip.  the glowing tip just above her own firm globular melons defying gravity, she glances back into his eyes.  Taking the cigarette from her lips, thinking how damn gorgeous she is, he feels his cock hardening, a fucking teenager seducing him.

       “You going to cut me across my tittie with that razor?... Or you gonna’ roll that cigarette across this gold stud?”  She pouts, pushing her pierced nipple outward as she feigns glancing down toward it.  “You going to whip her titties first like you promised with that belt or make my nipple heat up?... Warm me up first?”  She whispers, almost coercing as her shoulders arch back against the post, her breasts separating, jiggling.  Glancing down toward his crotch, she smirks.  “Then you going to stick that big dick all swollen and hard down there right up in my tight little pussy?... Make me squeal… Whimper like her?”

       Taking another long drag himself, the cigarette over half burnt, he thinks what the fuck! Glancing momentarily back at the whimpering girl behind him, her body trembling, her head turned away toward the side of the post, he glances back away from her, back down toward the faded blue Levi short shorts in front of him as he hears her again trying to seduce him.

       “You haven’t seen my pussy yet… Bald as a baby’s behind… As soft too!... You going to rip my pants off?... No panties either!”

       Almost confused, wondering what the fuck this little bitch is up too, he reaches down, unbuttons the button above the zipper of her shorts as she thrusts her hips out as if to help.  Slipping his thumbs into the beltless loops around her waist, her tan hips wiggle as she helps the Levi’s to drop down across her knees.

       ‘My pussy’s tingling, can you rub it for me?... I think I’m getting wet!”

       Listening to her seductive voice with just a tinge of an accent, almost letting her tell him what to do, he lets his middle three fingers slip between the slit between her toned, firm hips, her moist smooth labium soft to the touch, quivering between her trembling thighs, her dark skin without the slightest hint of a tan line.

       “Fuck!... This little bitch is getting hot for real!”  He realizes as he glances back into her piercing eyes as he presses against her clitoris, feels her hips twitching.  Dropping the Marlboro, tugging the torn top away from her shoulders, he feels her breasts pressing firmly across his chest as her head tilts forward, her mouth parted, pressing against his.  The sensation of her teeth nibbling his lower lip, her tongue flicking into his mouth, her warm breath across his face, he cups her left breast, feels her thighs thrusting against his as she softly moans in his ear.

       “Fuck me while I’m bound to the post… Make my cousin watch!”  She mutters as she continues to use her tongue, her teeth, her lips.  “Take me… Fuck me while you squeeze my titties… Hurt me… Fuck me hard!”

       ”What the fuck!”  His cock thinking for him, he flips it out, jams it up between her spreading thighs, obviously not a virgin.  Her hips thrusting forward as she grunts, curls her legs up around his waist, she forces her body’s weight down across the front of his thighs as her shoulders press back, arch around the front of the wooden post, his shaft forced almost completely in by her movements.

       “Deeper!… Harder!... More… Oh God!…. More!”  She Rasps as her hips flex, her body jerks, her eyes glaring into his, her teeth biting on her own lower lip between her tongue forcing its way into his mouth.  “Fuck me harder… Pound my pussy!... Yes!... Oh yes!”

       “Christ!”  He thinks as he humps.  “This nymph bitch can give me a fucking heart attack!”  Still pounding, slamming her against the post, her butt cheeks grinding the front of the post as her arms wrap back around the creosoted ties, her grunts become louder, raspier as her body spasms, jerks and spasms again, and again.

       “Aaaaggghhh!!!... Aaaggghhh!!... Aaaggghhh!!!” 

        Each guttural grunt coinciding with her bodily convulsions, feeling her orgasm mounting, exploding, his shaft also pulses, spurts as his scrotum slaps up between her spread thighs wrapped around his. “Ooomph!”

       Holding her tight, feeling her perspiring body trembling against his, he lets her head tilt against his.  Breathing hard, feeling her chest, stomach raising and lowering just as rapidly, he feels her breath against his ear, then a soft whisper between halting breaths  “Let me… Hurt her… With you… Then fuck me again… All you want… Please!... Please!” 

       Leaning back, staring into her dark, gleaming eyes for a moment, he glances back toward the other girl, her head still turned defensively away, basically in her own world, refusing to watch, to comprehend.  Staring again toward the girl in front of him as he steps back a step, admiring her looks, her gull, he gives the idea some serious consideration before making up his mind.  Leaning forward, his mouth toward her ear as he reaches for the crushed pack of Marlboros in his shirt pocket, he whispers.  “Thanks… But I work alone!... And it’s time to get to work!”

End Part Four