TASKFORCE

TASKFORCE

Part Nine

Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Cruising the streets of the hardcore neighborhood with his cigarette in hand, as satisfying as his 550i ride is, it’s just not getting him in the mood to stir any shit.  His mind still drifting back to his grudge fuck, actually finding her pretty damn interesting, drawn toward her aggressiveness with him, liking it, he’s just not in the mood to be out cruising alone tonight.  Feeling like a damn Yuppie when he’s not getting looks like he’s a trolling fag with bucks, this is about as close as it gets for him feeling uncomfortable.  First asshole to walk up to his car at a traffic light and proposition him will be eating teeth for the next week.  Flicking the butt out the window, turning the corner, he heads out of town.  Hitting the navigation system for the nearest gambling boat, its time to surround himself with people, have some fun.

       A half hour drive, more then that to find a spot for the damn car in the overflowing parking garage, he strolls into a seemingly unending line having to wait to get on the capacity filled casino boat.  Thanks to all you asshole fire marshals and your quotas, he thinks while  glancing around at all the stupid ass losers, knowing every single one of the bastards has a story about how much money they won, then of course lost back on one big play at the end of the night, or how their slot hit for thousands just during the brief couple moments it took for them to go get change and leave it unattended  Fuck, he’s more interested in the tits on the trolling hookers then anything else right now.

       The few minutes of waiting seeming like hours, he notices a couple security personnel in their goofy ass blazers.  His mind always working, he figures what the fuck, strolls over, flashes his shield.  “Official business.”  He nearly whispers as he glances past them, around the crowded entrance hallway like he’s really doing something.  Playing it on the fly, he works his magic.  “Working missing persons, possible homicide… Need to be discreet though… Acting like a gambler… Can you help a fellow officer from another department out?”  Watching the look on their dumbass faces, knowing they’d cut off their nuts to be a real cop, to have a shield like that, a little smooching and it’s like taking candy from a baby.

       The wait taken care of, trolling around the lower deck with mostly slots, the security guys are probably in the boat’s washroom’s stall jerking each other off thinking they’re helping solve a big fucking crime.  Damn, if he’d kept his head on straight, kept his mind off the bitch partner back at the mansion, he’d probably got a bunch more chips to play with per gratis, too.  Five C-notes ain’t bad though.  One area to another, looking for a slot next to a big tittied girl pissed at her boyfriend or a tramp out spending her old man’s money, he lights his cigarette, flips the match in the ashtray.

       “Hi!”

       Tapped on the shoulder, turning, it must be raining he thinks to himself as his eyes are drawn to the rack filling the revealing gown.  Glancing up, her red hair curly, flowing across her bare shoulders, his eyes momentarily lock with hers, crystal blue, piercing.  Jackpot!

       “Alone?”   Her voice low, soothing like the kind that every once in a while you could just fall asleep with your dick staying hard while listening too.

       A nod of his head, another toke on the Marlboro, he thinks he’s pretty damn certain this is where the gratis five Hondo’s going.  “Yeh… How’d you know?”  He answers, playing dumb.  “Are you?”

       “Hope not… I mean I was… But maybe…”

       “Look.”  He cuts her off.  “I’ve got five bills to blow… No bullshit.”  Holding the chips out, he adds.  If they’re yours… What do I get for ‘em?”

       Her innocent look, if she could have one, gone, she stares him straight in the face, her tone changing, now more of a street accent.  “You a cop?”

       “Yea sure… That’s right babe… I’m a fucking cop!... Are you?”  He rasps.  “Now what the fuck difference does make… For Christ’s sake… I just propositioned you!”  Shaking his head, grinding the Marlboro into the white sandy mound in the round cigarette disposal that looks like a flower pot or something against the wall.  “Now, you going to arrest me!... Going to pull the cuffs out from between those tits you’re showing me?”  He scolds, still holding the chips.  “Now… I ain’t got all night… What’s the gig?”

       “Okay… Upstairs in my hotel room… An hour… Nothing kinky…. Straight sex… It’s more if you want more.”  She answers like reading off a menu.  “You sure you ain’t a cop?”

       What the Hell!  Nodding, thinking to himself she may as well have been chewing gum and filing her fucking fingernails during her stirring presentation, good thing she has great tits.  Glancing over, recognizing the couple of his new found security buddies just walking toward them from the other side of the floor; he again thinks to himself just what he needs.  He can see it now, they’re obviously going to try and pull him aside to let him know she’s probably a fucking whore.  Indiscreetly waving them off as if he’s on official business and doesn’t want them to give up his secret shit, he’s taken aback watching them nod back like they’re trying to be inconspicuous too, then turning away nearly knocking an old lady off her goddamn stool in front of a slot, spilling her bucket of tokens between the machines with the swarm of patrons grabbing, acting like they all just hit the friggin jackpot.  Shaking his head, envisioning in his mind the sight of one of the stupid security guards having toilet paper trailing out the crack of his ass, he mutters to no one in particular.  “For Christ sake!”

       Handing his chips to the redhead, out the side exit to the hallway, around and up an escalator, they enter an elevator to the floor of her room.   Quiet, his cigarette out, he holds off on the next one as the elevator door slides open.  Straight down the hall, unlocking her door with a pass card, they enter the room, the king-sized bed its main furniture.

       Watching her step into the bathroom to prepare herself, thinking how fucking discriminating can the bitch be, she’s a fucking whore, he slips his nine millimeter under the pillow, strips his clothes down to his Michael Jordan skivvies, lays them on the chair next to the bed.  Lighting a Marlboro, his other hand behind his head as he rests his arm on the pillow as he leans back, he hears the toilet flushing.  Stepping out, her clothes still on, glancing toward the door, it opening, a guy dressed all in black steps in, knife in hand.

       Shutting the door behind him, the guy puts on his best tough guy impression.  “Don’t move motherfucker!... Where’s your wallet… And clothes?”

       Unbelievable, he thinks, amused if it wasn’t costing him a piece of ass.  Pointing down toward the chair next to the bed with his lit cigarette, waving it like the guy’s a fucking idiot; he shakes his head as he glances back toward the redhead.  “I thought nothing kinky?”

       “Fuck you!”  She scowls as her man steps toward the bed, almost stumbling.  “Shut the fuck up and give us your shit and he might not hurt you!”

       “Really?... Thanks!… I hope that dumb fuck doesn’t hurt himself first by falling on me!”  He answers as the guy with the knife reaches the chair, grabbing his clothes, checks for the wallet.

       “Want this too?”  Pulling the semi from behind the pillow, pointing it at the asshole, he takes another draw on the Marlboro as he glances back at her.  “You haven’t taken those clothes off yet, bitch!”

       “Wha…What?”  She mutters her eyes wide as she sees the gleaming steel pointed at her accomplice.

       “I said… You ain’t naked yet cunt… Strip!... Unless you want this shoved up your ass!”  Watching her visibly tremble, start to reach upward toward her clothes, he glances back at the punk half kneeling, half standing, frozen, his wide eyes staring toward the gun.  “You… Asshole… Want to die?”  A final, long slow puff on the Marlboro, ain’t wasting that too.

       “Wha… No… No man!”  The tough guy’s voice breaking, not so fucking tough now.

       “Then drop that fucking knife on the floor and get your stupid ass over here…  But first put my clothes back on the chair… Neatly!”  Sitting up, grinding the butt of the cigarette harshly into the ashtray on the night stand, he points the business end of the nine millimeter at the guy’s face.  Watching him drop the clothes back on the chair, the knife on the floor, glancing toward her still slowly stripping, he scowls.  “Bitch… If you ain’t naked in the next ten seconds… His fucking brains… If he has any… Is going to be all over that damn wall… And then yours!... Understand?”

       “Okay… Okay!”  She whines as she jerks at her clothes.

       “Now punk!”  He scowls.  “Kneel in front of me…. Hands behind your head!”

       Wide eyed, kneeling, trembling, while locking his fists behind his neck, he groans as the gun’s barrel presses against his cheek.

       “Listen carefully… Both of you!... One fucking word from either of you and the top of his head will be decorating the hallway!”  Speaking now in an almost icy voice, he continues.  “First off… You obviously picked the wrong motherfucker tonight!”

       Turning toward her, her trembling body now completely naked, her fair complexion with just a spattering of freckles, he figures her tits are at least D cup, maybe DD’s.  Nice ass too.  Shit, all he wanted was a quick fuck, and she ain’t half bad… Nice little patch of red above her cunt, damn!  Glancing back toward the punk, his teenage vintage acne obviously leaving pock marked scars, he appears possibly early thirties or maybe even a hard late twenties.  “Open your mouth… Punk!”

       Watching the asshole’s eyes widening further, his jaw beginning to quiver, he slides the barrel between his lips, presses it past his teeth, feeling it chip a couple as the gun presses across his tongue.  Glaring at him as if daring him to even whimper, glancing toward her, he orders.  “Get the knife… Now!”

       Breasts bouncing as she scurries across the floor, picking up the knife, dropping it, picking it up again, she steps toward the bed, reaches it outward handle first in her trembling hand as she flattens her breasts across her chest with her other arm.

       “Keep it… And kneel down beside him!”  He orders, watches her hesitate, then slowly kneel.  “Pull his dick out from his pants… Do it bitch!”  Her hand shaking, unzipping his zipper, she struggles to reach in his pants as he watches her breasts again fall free, the fucking nipples looking hard as they jiggle.  Moaning, obviously more then nervous, she tugs, pulls at his cock with her trembling hand.

       Glancing toward the punk’s face, sweat beading, eyes welling, his jaws stretching over the barrel as blood trails across his chin, he glances back, watches her finally jerking out the shriveled cock.  Slowly shaking his head back and forth with a smirk, he orders.  “Now stretch his balls out in your hand… Now!”

       Tugging, both eyes wide opened as her trembling hand jerks back, twisting his scrotum between her fingers, she glares at the gun in her man’s throat as she moans, almost a pleading whimper as she holds the handle of the knife in her other shaking hand.

       “Now… One time… Listen up!”  He continues in his cold, calculating voice, the punk’s teeth rattling against the gun’s barrel.  “Red… I’m giving you a choice… It’s one or the other… And no turning back or I’ll use the knife myself… And you sure the fuck don’t want that to happen… Trust me!”  Shoving his nine millimeter even deeper into the asshole’s mouth forcing his head back, knowing he’s not going anywhere he glares back toward her.  “Either I’m giving him the knife to cut off one of those nipples you seem so proud of… Or you’re cutting off his scrotum on the count of three!... You get first chance!... And only one!... Now… One or the other or I’ll cut you both my fucking self!… Understand?”

       Watching the punk gurgling, whimpering, hearing a rasping, wheezing sound from his stretched mouth, then turning, seeing her body shaking, glancing back toward the knife quivering in her fist, he scowls.  “Your tit or his nuts!... Which is it?... You fucking ready to castrate this punk?”  Cocking the hammer back, that ominous sound between a click and a clank filling the room as the punk again struggles to breathe, his face ashen, the redhead’s trembling hands squeezes the knife and his scrotum simultaneously.

“Motherfucker… If you even thick about screaming… I’ll take that knife and cut your goddamn dick off too!”  He scowls. “So shut the fuck up!........ One!.. Two!”  The count begins, rapidly.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

       Five grand, motherfucker!  A single spin of the wheel before leaving, all five hundred in chips on the table and he hits, imagine that, and to think he’d tried to give the chips to that fucking ungrateful hooker earlier.  Tossing the two security guards a grand each, the inept bastards will love him forever.  Leaving the boat, its hotel, he flips the last Marlboro from the pack.  Tossing the crumpling package on the floor of the Beamer, it’s been an invigorating evening; time to get back to the city, better yet, maybe back to the mansion to get laid.

A couple slow draws, the glow of the cigarette reflecting off the inside of the windshield, he smiles to himself.  A fucking castrated pimp and a whore with a serrated nipple, fuck, he just couldn’t help letting that poor bastard get back at her.  Glancing at his cell phone plugged into the dash, he reaches for it on the way to a short conversation with the unlikely woman he’s having strange feelings for.

       A short conversation, flipping shut the cell phone after listening to her raspy voice, a shit eating grin and he wonders just how fucked up this world is.  A thirty-something Dominatrix behaving like a school girl in love and a Psycho cop just as much in lust for her, what a fucking mix.  And, she’s promised him a surprise if he hurries back to the mansion.  Seeing just what the Beamer can do, one thing’s for certain, it handles a hell of a lot better then that damn limo.  A forty-five minute drive turning into twenty-something, he’s in the driveway, outside the garage.  Parking, stepping out, the garage door opens, the light inside already on.

       Through the garage, into the hallway, he takes a second look as he notices her silhouette at the bottom of the shadowy stairs.  The light flicking on above her, her hand on the wall switch, he feels his dick instantly hardening.

       “Well?”

       Her voice still raspy, her outfit with what there is of it combined with her glistening body and plenty of it, he realizes she’s just plain goddamn stunning.  Hesitating, then slowly walking toward her as she does a seductive pirouette, exotic, erotic, gorgeous, the list rattles off in his mind as he watches her finish her full turn, again face toward him.  Her hair strictly drawn back, her makeup’s heavy but actually perfect for her stimulating outfit.  Her ruby red lips glistening, her dark eyes seem to sparkle; their whites almost too white being surrounded by the dark eye shadow and thick lashes.

       A series of strategically placed narrow black leather straps with silver clasps are aligned across her otherwise nude body as she self assuredly maneuvers on her impossibly tall platform stilettos.  Her defined legs seeming to stretch forever in the fishnet black stockings are drawn to the classic black garters surrounding her thighs just below her obviously freshly shaven pubic mound.  Even the black leather chocker collar surrounding her throat fits perfectly, highlighted by her outthrust breasts, the globular mounds pressed outward, forced to separate between their crisscrossing buckled leather straps.

       Stepping toward one another, his eyes are drawn toward her thick nipples, hard, jiggling as they spread outward in virtually opposite directions from her firm, barely swaying breasts. Her shoulders arching back, the palms of her hands brushing across her butt cheeks, her eyes lower, her lips part as she stops no more then a foot in front of him.  “Well… You haven’t answered me… What do you think?”

       “I… I think I could eat your pussy right now!”  He mutters, his thoughts becoming his voice, his cock as hard as a rock in his pants.  Sliding his hands across her thighs, his fingers gliding upward across the perfectly aligned straps, he follows the curves of her waist upwards to her ribcage.  Slipping across a couple other tight wrapping straps, her freshly oiled flesh feels smooth, soft under his fingertips.  Her body actually quivering under his touch, he glances into her eyes as she lifts them up to meet his as his hands reach up across her breasts, his palms flattening her nipples as his fingers clench, melding the firm, yet soft flesh.

       “You can… And a lot more… But after a tiny little favor though.”  She evilly smiles, her hands still resting behind her on her rounded butt cheeks as she lets her breasts press forward into his hands.

       “What’s that?’’ He shrugs, not hardly giving a fuck what she wants from him, shit anything goes, almost.

       “I want to help with your woman on the wheel… Let me have some time with her too… You know… To do things as rough as you would… Maybe rougher!”  She answers, her voice just a shade colder, sharper.  “I’ll even handle all the details of disposing with her to one of the brothels so far away, she’ll never be found!”        

       “Fuck!... That all?”  He grins, thinks what the hell, that’s a fucking no-brainer.  Christ, the way she mounts those girls in front of the place just to amuse her guests at her little get togethers, what else could she do to that bitch?  It might be fun to watch.

       “No limits… I mean you’re to let me do whatever I want to her… With her… And I’ll show you just how good I can treat even a man!... Agreed?”

       “Sounds serious.”  He answers; again his mind in overdrive, thinking this could get to a whole other level as she forces her breasts firmer into the palms his hands, her scent, her entire body radiating raw sex, at least to his dick standing out in his trousers.  “Tell you what.”  He answers, his hands squeezing her breasts a little firmer.  “Free reins… If………..”

       Still staring into each other’s eyes, he waits for her to break the silence as he melds her breasts, looks into her seducing eyes.  Waiting for a few moments or so, he wins, she barely whispering.  “If… What?”

       Thinking he doesn’t give a shit what she does with that cunt bound on the wheel, he goes for it.  “If you… You submit to me for the rest of the night!”

       A quick glare, a momentarily puckering of her lips as she lowers her eyes, she almost rasps.  “Submit?... You mean… I’m… I’m not a submissive… You know that!”

       “This evening… Me Master… You slave!”  He answers, trying to be assertive.  “And she’s yours to do whatever the fuck you want with her tomorrow and from now on if you want!... But right now it’s you and me!”  Feeling her breasts trembling in his hands, staring back into her eyes, he waits, almost holding his breath as he plays his game.

       “What are you going to do to me?”  She softly asks, her eyes again glancing into his, then quickly lowering back down.

       Hearing her softer voice, almost childish, he knows he has the bitch, yeh!  “Am I going to hurt you?... You mean.”  Tightening his fingers, slowly twisting, but not too far, he answers.  “What do you think?... Now answer me… Yes or no?... A night of being my slave to do with as I want… Within reason of course!... And you will be punished if I deem it necessary… And I’m certain you will… Then she’s all yours tomorrow.”

       “Her tomorrow for me… And anything goes!… But first me tonight for you, but then within reason… Hummm… Then a safe word’s going to be needed... I think.”  She nods her head while still thinking out loud herself, glances back into his eyes as her chest arches upwards, forcing her breasts deeper into his gripping fists while her hands reach down, cups his hard on as she unzips his pants.  “Within reason huh?… Okay then… But a safe word to stop on… How about ‘Leo’… My sign… Just in case… And it’s agreed!”  Glancing down between her squeezed breasts, toward his crotch, she smiles as she grips his swollen shaft through the trousers cloth.  “Now let’s seal the deal… As you like to say… Okay?”

       “Okay  Master… You mean!”  He corrects her, his voice stern, his hands twisting her breasts, not so gently.  “And… If you have to use the safe word… No session with her either… Keep that in mind!!”  He scolds.  “Now… If you agree… Then it’s time to start… And there’s no turning back…  Now let’s go, hands up behind your head!... Slut!”

       An insulted look mixed with the first sign of pain on her face as she grunts from him twisting her breasts even harsher, she nods as she pulls her hands from his crotch, slips them up behind her neck to nerviously interlock her fingers together.

“I don’t think you’re dressed quite right… Some cuffs and clamps seem to be missing from that outfit of yours… Right Slut?”   Twisting harsh enough to force her to gingerly dance up onto her tiptoes, he asks again, even sterner.  “I said right slut?... Those nipples need a set of clover clamps… Don’t they?”

       Nodding, interlocking her fingers even tighter, she mumbles.  “Ye… Yes… Master!... My nipples need… Need clover clamps!”

       “Cunt too!… Tell me your cunt needs a clover clamp too!”  He antagonizes her with another twisting of her breasts.

       “Oomph… My cunt needs a clamp!… Master!... Oomph!... A… A clover clamp too!”  She finds herself moaning, answering like she’s been answered too so many times before herself.  Her breasts painfully stretched eye level in his gripping fingers even as she tiptoes back and forth from one foot to the other, obviously being initiated into the other side of sadomasochism is going to be painful to say the least.

End Part Nine