TASKFORCE

TASKFORCE

Part Seven

Chapter Twenty-Two

       A smile on his face, a nod into the impounding lot’s office as he makes it a point to slowly drive by the shack as the gate’s already sporadically screeched open on the old metal wheels dragging across the pitted concrete of the driveway, the look on his buddy’s face is priceless.  The gleaming 550i Beamer, a drug investigation seizer, and it’s like being a kid in a candy store.  Scanning over the toys, feeling the luxury of his new ride, he’s always wondered what the fuck a BMW felt like.

       Maybe not the most expensive, or newest, but high on the list, this 360 horsepower Beamer could come in handy along with its fucking night vision infrared option.  Christ, James fucking Bond ain’t got shit on this ride he thinks to himself as he makes it a point to nail it, paddle shift the carbon black metallic sedan sideways across the double yellow line as he leaves the lot.  Yea, nice of the Chief to straighten that asshole out, let him know he bought himself another six months of desk duty for fucking with the wrong motherfucker, who’s laughing now?

       Time to formulate a plan to get close with Ariel’s mom, real close, as he initiates the gray Dakota leather interior with his Marlboro.  Fucking drug punk would love to see this; he smiles to himself as he cruises down the street, arm out the window, cigarette in fist.  Making a point of cruising through the hood, showing off the gleaming nineteen inch wheels to the locals, he wonders if any of them recognize their buddy’s old ride.  All windows down on purpose, enjoying the taste of a man’s cigarette one after the other, flipping the butts out at the traffic lights, toward the feet of anyone who even resembles a punk ass gangsta’ to him, he can’t help feeling a little froggy, a little badass himself.

       No takers, just a couple, a few stares, he guesses he must be putting off that scent, the same that makes the meanest, evilest dogs back the fuck away from him.  Fuck, almost a waste of time, anyway, he’s sure the word will get out to the bailed out punk who owns this ride what’s happening with it, he ain’t getting it back anyway.  Driving out of town, he plays with the navigation system, loads Ariel’s mom’s address into it.  Not to far from her brother-in-laws, actually just a couple blocks, huh, no wonder she was just wearing a robe during the missing reports.  He decides to take a cruise past her place as the power windows role up.

       A few minutes and he’s close.  Nice neighborhood in the daylight, the kind where the cops carry in groceries for the residents, lock the fuck up out of anybody else with the audacity to drive through and disturb the movers and shakers of the world.  Fuck that, he shakes his head to himself as he glances at the manicured lawns, the soccer mom SUV’s in every other driveway.  Closing in, the address on the right hand stone pillar with the open wrought iron gate, he appreciates the brick driveway circling to the front of the Georgian style mansion setting back on the rolling lawn.  Nice living like that while fucking the little people who’ve worked all their lives out of their piddelly ass savings. 

       Circling a couple streets down, approaching from the other direction, he admires the three car attached garage with the four car unattached just across the courtyard type area on the eastern side of the house.  An expensive couple cars sitting outside, probably a Jag and a Mercedes, he focuses on the license plates, to run later.  Seeing a spotless spic and span police cruiser approaching a couple blocks away, he again smiles to himself as it gets closer, slowing down.

       Passing, watching his mirror, he sees the marked car pulling into a driveway.  The cruiser not very inconspicuously turning around, he guesses the young looking cop’s probably befuddled, an unfamiliar car, but a damn Beamer, don’t want to piss off an important visitor. That’s what you get with some of these half ass suburban departments, give wanna-be’s a big gun and a badge.  Fuck, barely a step up from a rent-a-cop security guard, a summer weekend working the inner city streets where the real cops handle their beats would have punks like him pissing their pants.  

       What a quandary, let it go or check it out.  Again a grin as he lights his cigarette, takes a slow draw while still watching the mirror.  Stopping at a stop sign, completely stopping and counting to three, he drives through as the cruiser makes its stop behind him.  Also taking a couple seconds, the cruiser slowly turns right, the buzzed cut cop’s head also turning, obviously watching the Beamer as he plays with his onboard computer as he’s obviously running the plate though HCIC, RCIC.

         Fucking really going to be confused, he smiles as he flicks the butt out the window once the police car’s out of sight.  The plate’s going to come back as official, he’s not going to know what the Hell’s going on, so go the fuck on and find some groceries to take in for some soccer mommy, asshole.  A more serious note, seeing how the neighborhood’s patrolled, she’ll have to be dealt with somewhere else, no big deal.  It’s time to finalize the arrangements for the new location to take his detainees too, anyway.

Chapter Twenty-Three

       It’s going on a week, usually not nearly taking this long, but then again, not just some cheap whore being picked up off some street corner.  The girls were naive, easy.  This is the real deal.  A couple chances, just that, just chances and he’s passed on both, just didn’t feel right, but tonight’s going to be different, it’s fucking raining.  Valet parked outside the country club, her Jag over to the side, in the dark, unprotected, a few inch strip of the little hollow barbs from an old stop-stick thrown away after it was used, and he’s glad he’s kept the memento.  Laying it under her front tire, it’ll take a few minutes for the tire to go down after she leaves the lot.  Now to wait for her to leave, the bitch must be as cold as her old man, the daughter’s still missing and she’s out and about county-clubbing. 

       The plain, white colored van’s not all that uncomfortable; it has fm and a lighter.  The metallic signs to toss on the door on the front seat, his athletic bag on the floor, he’s ready to be Mr. Fucking Fix-It.  After the deed’s done, he’ll slip the van back into the impounding lot and pick his Beamer back up.  Two packs of Marlboro’s, that’s good until at least midnight, he’ll sit his ass right here next to the caretaker’s shack until she’s done with her night out.  Damn, this is easy, even for some god forsaken reason he’d be noticed, fuck, he’s just making sure the rest of the family’s safe, a tireless fucking hero trying to make up for insulting the cocksuckers earlier.

       Listening to the different stations, wondering how the girl’s find their new facilities a half world away, he relaxes to the steady patter of rain on the flat metal roof of the van.  Watching out the windshield with just a swipe of two of Rain-X applied, he doesn’t have to worry about the damn wipers.  Cupping his cigarettes as he smokes them, keeping them low, below the dashboard, he even uses the Pepsi can he just finished off to dump the ashes, butts into.  Watching the Valet’s, waiting, he finally sees her Jag’s car lights come on, backed out of the parking spot and delivered to the veranda.

       Watching her get into her car, alone, appearing to flirt a little with the kid as she presses the tip into his hand, brake lights flashing and the car pulls away.  Onto the country road, toward the direction of her neighborhood fifteen or so minutes away, he pulls out the service drive at the far end of the lot.  Like clockwork, just a couple minutes and her brake lights flash, the right turn signal blinks.  Pulling off onto the graveled side of the road, he pulls over also, lights off, a block or so back.

       Waiting a couple minutes, his orange jumpsuit and black skullcap on, stroking his goatee and sliding on his tinted glasses with his gloved hands, he flicks on his lights, drives up behind her.  Slipping the sign against the side of the van’s door as he gets out into the wet darkness, the yellow light flashing on the van’s dash, he steps into the steady but light rain, to the driver’s door, satchel in hand.

       The front tire flatter then Hell, he taps on the driver’s glass.  Barley rolling it down, her look of disgust more then concern, he asks.  “Flat ti….

       “You stupid?... What the Hell’s it look like?... Can’t you see it… Christ … Its right in front of you?... Change it!... That’s what I pay for!”

       Taken aback by her rudeness, not even thinking it’s only been a couple fucking minutes since she made a call, the dumb fucking cunt’s being too arrogant to even have any concerns.  “Yes… Yes mam… But sign this release first… Please?”  Holding the pad in his hand, watching the road, both directions, dark, empty, he sees the glass lowering.

       “For Christ’s sake… You’re going to make me get wet!.... Well okay… Hurry up though!”  The window lowered further as she reaches for the pad, her head shakes back and forth, her dark hair barely touching her shoulders.

       The feeling, the stirring in his stomach brings back memories, like when he was the high school kid, came over the middle and knocked the Hell out of the all-city quarterback in the all-star game.  Damn near broke him in half, heard his shoulder separate as he drove him into the ground, heard the gasps of the sideline crowd as the helmet cracked, the players around him shitting themselves at the sight of the blood from the splattered nose!  And to think, before the game that asshole had beaten him out of the all-state player of the year award by a lousy couple votes!  Fuck that felt great!  Yeh, the same feeling when he stood above the bloodied punk-ass, fists raised up in the air toward their side of the field in a victory jig!  But then, got thrown out of the game for un-sportsmanship-like conduct, never did understand that!  Fucking hypocrites, that’s football, that’s life!

       Sliding his fist beneath the pad with the syringe locked tightly in his fist, a quick poke into her throat, her eyes instantly hazing, the fucking shocked expression on the cunt’s face is priceless.  Jerking the door open, flipping the bitch across his shoulder, slamming the door shut, around the back of the car, into the side of the van, he dumps her limp body across the spread out tarp.

       Pulling away, leaving the Jag behind, it’s emergency lights still flashing, he flips off the yellow dash light, reaches outside the door’s window, pulls his ‘Acme Road Care’ sign from the door, amused at the phony phone number under the bold heading, 1-800-328-7448 (eat-shit) as he tosses it on the passenger seat.  Driving toward the new location, his first ‘guest’, he’ll stop in a few miles at a road side park, properly secure her before the hour or so commute, but first, a Marlboro as he listens to the fm, cranks up Waylon Jennings’, ‘I’ve always been crazy’.        

Chapter Twenty-Four

       Her eyes tapped open; her jaws feeling at the breaking point with her mouth stretched wide by a severe rubber ‘O’ ring, the backside of her naked body arches around a barrel style wheel, her hands bound to her ankles.  Bowed into an impossible circle, every tendon, muscle stretching in her tortured body, she feels as if her joints are ripping apart.  As the barrel type apparatus slowly rotates, her body rolls with it.  Indiscriminately halting in various positions, she hangs, lays, stretches from or on the severely curved surface accordingly.

       The dark barely lit chamber hot, humid to the point of being stifling, almost steamy, sweat beads and drips from her bare flesh.  Grunting, her unshielded eyes darting as they burn from her own salty perspiration, she sees the shadows of a single muscular man, completely naked himself.  Barely able to get a close view of him as he seems to maneuver with the motions of the wheel, she feels his hands at times touching on her body, his fingers on her bare breasts, between her stretching thighs.  Barely able to grunt, her body trembles, her heart pounds as she feels nauseated, the pit of her stomach queasy.  Fear, terror overwhelms her.  She struggles, twists, to no avail as she continues to awaken.

       Passing the time amusing himself with Ariel’s mother, adjusting the lever until her breasts are at the very height of the rolling barrel, he stops its rotation. Her swaying globes spreading across her arching torso thrusts upward yet flatten across her sternum.  Both areolas dark, flat, the nubs of her nipples stand up, thick and full.  Perspiration beading, streaking in crisscrossing patterns off from her nipples, the moisture drips against the barrel’s surface.

       Sensing she’s finally fully alert, terrorized of her predicament if not comprehending it, he’s ready to begin the harshness of her initial workout.  Familiarizing himself with the new location, just one of the little coves in the bowels of his new partner’s mansion, he likes the sauna type atmosphere of this particular chamber.

       Cupping her left breast, quite firm for a thirty-seven year old mother, actually for any age, he feels her body trembling as he tweaks the nub of her nipple, lifts, twists as her grunts are just like her niece’s, not like her daughter’s.  Another thing, he thinks to himself with a close look at the nubs of the nipples, no signs of piercings, not like her daughter’s or her nieces.  Fuck, he didn’t even realize at first that those girls both had piercings and liked to interchange the gold stud, some kinky little joke between them to fuck with guys at the clubs, confuse who they were.  After all, the cunts do look like twins.  No damn wonder the old man was getting so fucking upset during the missing report, he was confused too.

       Letting his fingernail press into the tan flesh, he slides his other hand across her thigh, lets his fingers sink into the cropped, short silky pubic hair.  Thinking it’ll be shaven soon enough, maybe even the hair across the most sensitive areas of her vagina will be plucked, jerked out, just to irritate her.

       Slowly stepping around, positioning himself between her stretched but parted legs, he spreads her labium, slips the head of his swollen cock into the warm, moist slit.   Her hips quivering, he presses in a couple more inches, hesitates as she again bucks on the wheel.  Another flick of his hips, another couples inches, another tremble of her thighs.  Her grunts not of pleasure, he’s kind of disappointed, her daughter would be humping back, wanting it all.

       What the fuck, he realizes, rams completely in with a harsh, forceful stroke. “Oomph!”  Hearing her grunt, feeling her body jerk as her full globular mounds bounce, spread across her arched chest, he draws back in another harsh motion.  His cock plopping out, gripping it, forcing the glistening head lower between her thighs, he forces it between the rim of her sphincter muscles circling her rectum, then rams inward, his foreskin stretching back as that moist orifice grips tighter but allows entry into that heated tunnel.  His scrotum slapping between her butt cheeks, he holds firmly in for a couple moments, draws harshly back. “Aaagghh!”  Listening to her whining, he steps around the barrel.

       Positioning himself in front of her wide open taped eyes, dark brown pupils surrounded by the glaring white background, he slips the engorged head of his shaft into the bright red oval ‘O ring.  Steadying himself, holding her breasts in each hand, gripping, twisting, he rams his shaft completely inward, watches her throat stretch, bulging not unlike an Adam’s apple as his cock rams past her tonsils, deep back into her throat.  His scrotum slapping against her nose, slips across her riveting eyes.  Thrusting in and out a second, third, finally a forth time, he grips, twists her stretching melons.  Feeling the pulsing, the throbbing of his shaft, another couple deep thrusts as she wheezes from her nostrils between his scrotum slapping across her face, he pulls back, grips the base of his cock, lets the sperm spurt, pulse, squirt across the ‘O’ ring stretching her lips, deep into her mouth, across her nose, her forehead, smear across, into her widely taped eyes as she coughs, gags, sputters.

       Stroking his shaft, pumping, milking, he covers her tanned complexion with the whitish milky cream, clogs her eyes while also oozing into her flailing nostrils.  The last bit of cum dripping, he steps back away from the wheel, leaving her with her horrified thoughts.  Besides her incredible pain, physically and mentally, her total humiliation of being fucked in all three orifices in a matter of minutes with her face left covered with sperm when just a couple hours ago she was miss prim and proper with her country club friends.

       Now it’s time for a little pain, maybe a little retribution for all the suffering people at the hands of her cowardly ass husband, a little incentive to help get the motherfucker back.  Something for her tits to start, a series of nice thick elastic bands to stand her melons upright, to force her nipples outward.  Her right breast first, the first thick band sinking down into the base giving that tit a globular appearance, a matching band for the other breast gives the same results.  Back and forth, another three, finally four bands and her breasts appear like firm cones, her dark areolas widely stretched with the nubs of her nipples flattened.

       Her whimpering through the ‘O’ ring negligible with the occasional grunt each time a band’s snapped against her bulging, discoloring  tit flesh, he’s ready to work on the nipples.  A pair of shiny copper coated thumb tacks, modified with wider flattened heads fastened on inch long razor sharp needles and he briefly holds one in front of her darting eyes still taped painfully open. Soaked with sweat, mixed with his bodily fluids, the moisture of the sauna like air, the whites around her pupils are now dark reddish, hazed over.  An audible grunt, knowing what the tack is, not knowing its purpose, but that it fucking ain’t good, her body visibly jerks, trembles in its stretched circle.

       Cupping her right breast, aligning the needle and resting it directly onto the center of the nub he slowly lets its tip sink into the hardened nipple.  Listening to her grunts as she now realizes where they’re being mounted, her torso arches as much as possible as the pitiful garbled pleadings escape the ‘O’ ring.  Watching the pointed tip sinking inward, the nub inverting, surrounding the needle, he feels the flesh giving way as the pin pricks through, sinks inward.  “Aaaggghhh!”  Her shriek corresponding with the impalement, he shove’s the entire tack downward until the copper covers the nub, just a hint of crimson spreading across the areola.  “Aggghhhh!!... Agghhhhh!”

       Taking a step back, invigorated by the contortions of her naked body, her obscenely bulging, banded breasts towering above her arching torso curved across the wheel, the thought crosses his mind for a Marlboro, maybe a short break as she becomes accustomed to her new nipple jewelry, still not knowing its full ramifications.  Stepping out of the chamber, his body drenched, grabbing his cigarettes, lighting up, he enjoys the moment as he glances through the glass partition.  It’s almost a surreal scene, the hot steamy, moisture laden room with her naked body on the wheel, the gleaming copper atop one of her up thrust breasts.  Finishing the cigarette with a final long draw, releasing the flow of smoke as he tilts his head back, briefly scratching his balls, he flips the butt to the floor, steps back into the room.

       The second tack, the other breast and he deliberately takes a little more time probing the tip of her nipple, pressing  inward, withdrawing, pressing inward again as her breast quivers in his cupped hand.  Her grunts almost pathetic, her body reflexively jerking, quivering as the needle jams inward, slides back out, twists a little more, then finally shoved completely inward until the flat surface covers the nub.  “Aaaaagggghhh!”  Another typical scream through the gag, he watches a trickle of blood oozing down the side of her banded globe, tracing down one compressed band to the other, both breasts now capped off with shinny copper tips.

       Stepping between her thighs, a clover clamp with a thin chain attached to it, a needle spiked small ball on the other end of the chain and he slides the spread clamp deeply onto her moist clit, releases it.  “Oomph!”  Letting the ball drop its couple inches, bounce against the curving surface, its spikes barely touch her inner thighs. “Aaagghhh!”

       What a fucking whiner, he thinks as he continues, must have mixed their daughters up at the hospital when they were born!  Reaching above her breasts, lowering a wired gadget down from the ceiling, he appreciates the modern conveniences of his new digs.  He’s going to have to complement his new business partner, the bitch, and still try to get in her pants, too, need to find out what it feels like to have a grudge fuck with a dyke!  Aligning, adjusting, he sets the copper insulators from above to line up with the copper tacks in her breasts.  Lowering the gadget a little further, pressing the couple inch long twin flat strips of curved copper against her capped nipples, he’s happy with the firm contacts.

       Cupping, squeezing her breasts, lifting, dropping the clover clamp between her thighs, he steps back through the door, glances back toward her from behind the glass partition.  Another Marlboro in one hand, his other hand on the lever, flicking it, he watches the wheel slowly begin to turn, her glistening body revolving with it in a slow counter clockwise motion.  As her head lowers, reaches the bottom of the arc, the spiked ball drops, sways across her pubic mound to slowly drag across, drop downward between her thighs with the motion of the circling wheel.  Her head being raised upward on the other side, the spiked ball sways back and forth above the floor, as her head reaches the top of the arc, the spikes roll across her inner thighs.

       A complete circle, her face passes between the copper strips, her breasts closing in.  Flipping another switch, he takes another long draw on his Marlboro, waits.   Her glistening body covered with perspiration, the copper strips begins to indent the upper curves of her coned breasts, slide across them, flattening into them until blue sparks flash as the copper tacks finally make contact, jolting her tormented nipples.  Her body jerking, bouncing as the wheel slowly circles, her breasts stretch, flatten above her as the tacks scrape along the sparking copper strips.  Her screams inaudible through the shut door and glass partition, three, four seconds pass before the tacks finally lose contact with the strips as her body rolls downward with the surface of the barrel to start another rotation, the spiked ball starting its own little dance, again.  

        Turning the heat up a little higher with the controls next to the glass partition as the barrel slowly rotates over and over, her naked body contorting in sequence, he likes his new arrangements, makes everything so cohesive, convenient.  Another day, some serious pain first, then he’ll start asking her about her husband, work on getting his fucking ass.  Right now she hasn’t a clue, just the thrill of the electricity jolting her impaled tits, the spiked ball rolling around between her thighs. Fuck, this is even better then when he crippled that fucking quarterback, almost.           

End Part Seven