TASK FORCE

An Author’s Note:

       The twentieth story in what has become a year of tales on June second.  The last one for the foreseeable future.  An admitted amateur, the flowing of the telling of my stories more important to me then the proper punctuation of English, I’d be the first to admit to the briefest of proof readings and probably more comma’s then periods.  Actually virtually all my tales are typed in a matter of hours with open endings, usually not even planned out until I sit down in front of the computer and let it flow.  That being said, for those who take the time to read my stories, I say thanks.  For those who critiqued, to the vast majority I say thanks.  Though I have never responded to any critiques, to the articulate critic who’s been so generous with his reviews of my tales, actually gets what I try to accomplish in telling a tale, I’d like to add a special thanks and let him know I myself read very few stories on the site but enjoy scanning the critic’s responses on more then just mine.  While most to me receive praise, his is head’s above the rest, much more then not, an entertaining read in itself.

       All that being said, I’ll add that my stories tend to have a common thread and though they can be brutal, even sadistic, they’re not over the edge for the most part which leaves a limited window I’m comfortable with, only so many scenarios.   There have maybe been a couple instances that I could have been a little outside the lines, otherwise most stories are more realistic then not, at least possible.  Again a thanks to the followers of my tales as this story will have a number of chapters, more then most, but on the other hand I don’t foresee a reason for any other new stories at this time, just maybe some follow-ups on others…. J LEWIS

Prologue

       A city of crime, a one man task force given free reins to administer his brand of justice, the tale begins.              

Chapter One

       Walking into the dark, obviously vacant building, glancing around in the hazy shadows of late dusk, he feels the probing sting at the back of his neck as he ducks past a deteriorating brick archway.  Reflexively grabbing for his neck, the dimness growing rapidly darker, his knees give out as he slumps numbly against the exposed brick wall, the particles of dust from the cracking plaster filtering through the air obscuring his view of the man standing over him with a syringe in hand as he loses consciousness.

       Awaking bound flat to the metal table by a seemingly endless amount of medical tape, he can only move his eyes as a single bare light glares down across his face.  Hearing a clanking sound, feeling the head of the table slowly rising into a vertical position, he’s forced to stare toward a black curtain just a few feet in front of him in the otherwise sterile environment of the heavily padded underground room.  Only able to grunt through the thick cloth rag stuffed and harshly taped in his mouth, his dark brown chiseled body ripples as he fruitlessly struggles to free his arms, legs.

       “Well!... Glad to see you’re finally back with us… You’ve found your girlfriend!”

       A man’s deep, stern voice resonates in his ears as his eyes dart back and forth as he cranes his neck, unable to see the person positioned somewhere behind the steel table.

       “What’s the matter?... The bindings too tight?... Can’t move?”

       Grunting, twisting, shuddering against the hard metal, his fists clench as he jerks against the layers of tape encircling his naked body.  The steel table jerking on its axis, his muscular body glistening, his anger’s more obvious then his fear.

       “If you’re done wasting your time.”  The voice continues.  “There’s something behind that curtain for you to see!... Something you’ve been looking for… Ready?”

       The curtain spreading slowly apart, another stark light shinning down from the concrete ceiling above it, his dark eyes widen as he realizes his girlfriend’s totally naked body’s obscenely displayed in front of him spread-eagled and bound.  Harshly shackled well up off the floor by wrist and ankle cuffs to what appears to be a set of roughly hewn railroad ties formed into a crude pair of pillars, her severely stretched olive toned body glistens under the makeshift swaying light.

       Brutalized, the welts, bruises seem layered across her heavily marred flesh as her hazed eyes barely rise toward his from her slumped head.  Jerking in his confinement even harsher, his animalistic grunts reverberate against the padded walls as he stares enraged at her ravaged body, up toward her swollen face, the thick red ball gag between her puffy, split lips spreading her jaws impossibly apart.

       “Well… What you think?”  The voice sarcastically asks, still from behind the table.  “Looks pretty good like that doesn’t she?... Especially for getting the shit fucked out of her between floggings for the past couple days!”

       Still grunting, feverishly struggling with the bindings, the bound man glares toward the hooded, shirtless outline of his nemesis stepping past the side of the table, toward the girl, stopping in front of her.

       “She does have nice tits, huh?”  The voice sarcastically asks as only his muscular backside’s visible from just to the left of the spread-eagled girl, his hands conspicuously concealed in front of him.  “You went looking for her… Now you’ve found her!... Only took you a couple days too!”  He smirks as the girl’s eyes widen as she slowly shakes her head back and forth, grunting, glaring toward his hands.

       Glancing back toward the table, again toward the slumping girl, he adds.  “Watch close!... I want you to see something… We had some fun the other day doing this while I was having a nice conversation with her about you!... Making our plans to get you here!”

       Reaching out, gripping her left breast firmly in his left fist as his shoulder muscles ripple under the stark lighting, thrusting a sinisterly long gleaming skewer downward, the razor sharp instrument jams though her bulging breast from just above her swelling nipple.  “Oomph!!”  Her muffled grunt’s barely audible through the gag as her head slumps back as the skewer’s jammed inward a second time.  “Aaaggghhh!... Aaaggghhh!”  A couple of louder screams through the glistening rubber gag as her swollen eyes widen, glare pleadingly toward the creaking table, her naked body shaking between the thick square posts.

       The skewer being worked, probing, finally tearing through the lower curve of her swollen breast, blood drips from the quivering sharp metal tip as her raw grunts, gurgles mingles with the bound man’s own enraged animalistic grunts through the rag stuffed in his mouth as he’s forced to watch.  Glancing back, releasing his fingers from the quivering skewer impaling the bleeding breast, the hooded man slowly steps toward the other side of the wooden posts.

       “What are they?  D’s… Double D’s?... Firm too aren’t they?… No matter how many times I jam a needle through ‘em they bounce right back up!”  The sarcastic voice continues as the hooded man grips the right breast, gives it a twist.  Sadistically displaying a matching skewer in his raising hand, twirling it back and forth between his finger and thumb, he flips its tip just above her dark right nipple.  Gripping her tit, a harsh jab, another deeper jab and yet another even deeper jab as she inaudibly pleads, viciously jerks in her restraints with each sadistic thrust, he glances back toward the metal table with a smile as blood drips across his fingers cupping her breast.  Again a twist of his hand back and forth and he jams downward a forth time, the skewer penetrating, completely impaling her right breast as the tip plops through.  Head slumping forward, her moans are barely audible, actually raw whimpers as he lifts her chin above her stretched shoulders, saliva drooling from her gagged mouth dripping across her bleeding breasts.

       “Not much of a response anymore… Huh?”  The mocked disappointed sounding voice continues as he remains facing her.  “Guess her voice is raw from her screams while she was being flogged and sodomized the past few days… She was really loud at first!... Squealed like a pig… Especially when I was ramming one of these skewers through her clit… Look… Her ass is still bleeding from my cock!”

       Gripping both breasts, twisting, rotating his hands back and forth, the skewers gleam in the reflecting light as fresh blood drips from their flashing tips.  Still his back to the creaking table, listening to the harsh grunts from the bound man, lowering his right hand and gripping his own semi erect shaft from his unzipped Levi’s, he forces the head of his cock between her spread thighs.

       “Shaved her pussy before I left to find you today… Even the bikini cut’s gone just for you.”  He grunts as he forces over half his thick shaft inside her in a single thrust.  “Damn!... That pussy’s still pretty tight!”  He smirks as he glances back toward the table.  “Thought you guys were supposed to have big dicks!... Why ain’t she loose then?”  He smirks as he glances back toward the moaning girl.  Another thrust, his scrotum slapping up between her spread butt cheeks, his shaft completely disappears.  A few quick thrusts, smacking her across her buttocks, the sounds of his open palms across naked flesh overshadows her grunts.

       “I think she likes it… Don’t you?”  He sarcastically grunts as he pounds in and out, again twists his fingers while stretching her breasts, the skewers jerking, glistening under the bright stark light.  “Yeh… I know she is… Her pussy’s wet!... She must want me to fuck her, huh?”

       Slipping his cock out from between her stretched legs, stepping around the pillars, gripping both bruised breasts from behind as he stares over her shoulder toward the mounted reclining table, he wastes no time jamming his throbbing cock deep inside the rim of her stretching rectum, two, three harsh thrusts as he forces her body to involuntarily jerk with each pounding.  Able to watch the hysterical rages of the bound, wild eyed man, at his body jerking, heaving against the impenetrable bindings of the steel table, he sadistically grins as he listens to her gurgling whimpers.

       “Ass still tight too!... Bleeds a little though each time I ride it!”  He scoffs as he flexes his hips, buries his shaft painfully deeper between her twitching thighs.  “It’s really tight on my cock!... What a fuck!... Damn!”  Leaning forward, whispering a threat in her ear, he holds still as she turns her head toward the side, hesitantly begins flexing her buttocks, grinding against his throbbing shaft.  “Watch her fuck me with her asshole!”  He quips as he slowly twists the skewers with his fingers, completing a full rotation, a rotation and a half.  Her hips jerking, her pubic mound jaunting outward, her flat stomach ripples as she grunts with each forced thrust. Riding her, he feels the nipples stretching, tensing as she grips his shaft deep inside her rectum, her breasts dripping bright red droplets of blood across his fingers.  “Tits stretch good… Damn… Watch those nipples twist like rubber bands while she fucks me with her ass!”

       Another half twist on her elongated nipples, finally a couple more thrusts by him from behind her butt cheeks, slipping his cock out from between her crimson tinged thighs, he slowly zips his trousers over his glistening cock, steps past the heaving semiconscious girl toward the table.  Glancing back toward her battered body, her head slumped between her swaying breasts; he thinks to himself how she’s still good enough looking to him in her tortured pose between the ties to keep his dick hard as he closes the curtain.

       Looking back toward the frustrated, frantic man still taped just as tight against the table, he amusingly stares into his obviously hate filled eyes.  “Well let’s see… A ruthless gang-banger and a stripper bound in front of me… How’s it feel watching your woman sodomized gangbanger?... Fucked in both holes… Her tits impaled?”  Leaning closer, whispering into his ear as he glances back up toward the curtained twin pillars, he adds.  “I’m not even close to being done with her yet… But when I am… Know what?... She’s going to be smuggled over to Hong Kong or someplace like that when I’m finished… Then she’s going to become a cheap fuck slut in some whorehouse over there until she’s worn out!... Then… Who knows?... But then… What the Hell… Who gives a shit?

        Leaning down, placing his hand just beneath the man’s throat, feeling for his jugular vein, the tip of a third skewer between his thumb and forefinger pressing inward, he glances closely into the instantly changing glare of the man’s eyes from hate to trepidation, the overwhelming knowledge of facing his demise giving off that hint of fear impossible to conceal, even to a tough guy.

         “You… You fucking psychopath… You’re not going to be so lucky!... I just wanted you to see her first!... Like she is… Realize what I’ve been doing with her… Too her!”  The satisfaction of watching his eyes widen, seeing his heart pounding deep in his chest as he gives his pathetic last ditch struggle against the unrelenting tape as he grunts through the stuffed rag, his head jerking back and forth, the satisfaction of ridding the world of another asshole’s overwhelming, almost as good as the sex with her as the hooded man smirks.  “Now… Say goodnight!”

Chapter Two

       Waiting in the receptionist’s chair, a foot on her desk, he smiles as she enters the room, a frown on her face.  “Just waiting for my appointment… Hon!”  He quips as the Chief a few steps behind her, walks in.

       A shake of the head, unlocking the door to his office, the Chief nods for him to follow.  Shutting the door behind them, nodding toward a chair in front of his desk, he asks with a sigh.  “Okay Detective… Let’s hear it.”

       “Done!... Two-seven… Sir!”  He answers as he tosses the manila folder across his desk.

       “And?”  The Chief asks as he leans back in his chair behind the stack of paperwork cluttered in front of him, sorts through the folder of the individual in question.

       “And I’m still in the process of submitting a particular detainee who happened to be his significant other with an intensive interrogation process to retrieve invaluable information from her as to the identities and whereabouts of other dastardly individuals wreaking havoc upon our community.”

       “So… Still fucking her… Huh?”

       “Among other things Sir… Yes Sir!... I guess you could say that!”  He shrugs.  “Anything any humble public servant like myself would be willing to do for the Chief of Police who also happens to be my good ‘ol boyhood buddy… Anything to cleanse the streets of our fair city of their rabble.”

       “Okay… Where is he now?... What did you…”

       “You don’t really want to know Chief… Really!”  He butts in, raising his hand.  “Let’s just say you might not want to be eating any sausage for breakfast the next couple weeks.”  Standing, taking a step toward the door, he adds.  “If there’s nothing else… It’s time to get back to work… Some more interrogation seems in place… Seems like my job’s never done!”

       “Be careful out there Detective!........ And keep me informed damn-it!”

       “Yes Sir!”  A quick salute, just as quickly out the door, he gives a quick pat on the receptionist’s shoulder with a smile as he glances down toward her cleavage.  As he steps out into the hallway, he smirks.  “The three of you sure look lovely today Mam!”

             “Bite me.”  She smiles back as her fingers rest on the typewriter keys.  “Keep your dick in your pants, asshole!”

       “Keep your tits covered then!”  He smirks back as he watches her glance down toward the top two buttons spread apart on her blouse.

       Arching her chest outward, another smile, she begins typing as she answers.  “You didn’t want me too last Saturday mister!”

Chapter Three

       A leisurely lunch at a favorite Chile parlor and its back to work, deep into the bowels of the secluded building, to the locked entrance of the padded room.  Swinging the iron door open, glancing toward the bronze toned body still straddling the floor between the creosoted cross ties, he shuts the clanking door behind him, sets his black leather athletic bag on the floor next to the right hand post.  Realizing this will be their last day together before she’s picked up to be hustled out of the country, he eyes her naked body, some of the remnants of  his interrogation techniques highly visible, the other remnants just from his personal amusement. Stepping in front of her, raising her chin in the palm of his hand, he smacks her across the face with his other open hand as he belches the onions from his cheese coneys.

       “Wake up!... Rise and shine girlfriend!”

       Her brown swollen eyes blinking, barely staring back through her crusted tears, drool continues to drip from the chewed mouth gag, down off her chin, between her thrust out breasts.  Her naked body barely trembling, the remnants of blood glisten from the punctures across her abused but still firm mounds as she hangs between the pillars, exhausted physically, mentally, basically acquiescent to her own fate.

       “Time for another round of interrogation… But first… Let’s clean you up a bit sweetheart.”

       A barely transparent, half full plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol, a couple white terry cloths from his gym bag, he soaks one with the open bottle, pours a splash across her shoulders.  “Oomph!”  Another splash across her breasts.  “Aaaggghhh!”  The searing burn of the alcohol splashing across her raw flesh rejuvenates her senses. A third splash against her bald pubic mound followed immediately by a forth up between her spread thighs.  “Aaaaaagggghhh!...  Aaaaggghhhh!!!”  Her screams escape the frazzled mouth gag.

       Swiping the wet cloth across her shoulders, her back, up and under her jerking breasts, he lowers his hand, shoves the cloth between her thighs.  “Aaaaggghhh!”  Stuffing the corner of the damp cloth up between her slit, pressing and twisting, he feels her body squirming, a spurt of urine dribbling down her thighs as she jerks, her discolored fists clenching and her toes curling  in the creaking cuffs stretching her limbs between the wooden posts.

       Using the dry towel, again swiping across her naked body, he spends an inordinate amount of time working her incredibly firm breasts.  Melding, twisting, he stretches and tugs as her body sways back and forth, almost vibrates between the posts.  Staring into her dark eyes, seeing there’s still some life left in them, the disgust, the pain, the hate, he smiles and reaches down, pinches and twists the nub of her raw, burning clit.  “Oomph!”

       A smile at her response, stripping his shirt and jeans, pressing against her naked breasts with his bare chest, he slips his swelling shaft between her perfectly aligned thighs stretching almost impossibly straight across to the pillars.  Gliding the tip of his semi erect cock up between her spread labia folds, the tingling turning to heat surrounding his shaft, the alcohol still lining the insides of her vagina walls, he ignores the discomfort, actually senses a stimulating satisfaction of the mounting burn as he glides inward, his foreskin stretching back as her quivering vagina grips him like a moist glove.

       A single long thrust, maintaining just barely a continuous pressure as their bodies join together and he feels her body rising ever so slightly upwards on his shaft.  Her eyes rolling, her head turning, he feels her firm globular mounds pressing, dragging across his muscular pecks as he tiptoes onto the balls of his feet.  Her trembling body being lifted, completely mounted on his throbbing cock, the alcohol still tingling, he feels the warmth of her nakedness against him.

       “Wiggle!”  He orders as he twists her chin forward in the palm of his hand, their eyes just a couple inches apart.  “Grind that pussy back and forth or…”  Pressing a hand between their chests, tweaking a nipple with his finger and thumb, he pinches inward, slowly twists.  “More skewers though these… Understand?”

       Seeing her barely nodding, a fresh tear streaking down across her cheek, he feels her pubic mound hesitantly jaunt forward, her vagina quivering around his pulsing shaft as it barely rotates.  “That’s it… Ride me nice and slow… Work that pussy or I’ll jam my cock back up your ass again instead!”

       Grunting through the gag, squinting her eyes as her hips flex back and forth, she feels his fingers continuing to press into her bruised breast as she instinctively struggles for her self-preservation, obeys his orders.  “Nice and steady… That’s it… Fuck me girl!”  Lifting, painfully twisting in her creaking restraints as she grunts with each forced breath, she clumsily rides his cock, her body aching, her mind fatigued by the uncountable hours of being tortured between the wooden rails with virtually no sleep, just terror after terror.

       Stroking his hips, slowly penetrating, forcing his cock completely inside her searing slit, he grunts with each thrust, feels her butt cheeks’ slapping across the fronts of his thighs.  Gripping her oily straight hair, jerking back, he watches the saliva drool from the mouth gag, its bright red cover now just a dull pinkish tint on the chewed gag as her eyes clench tightly closed.  A couple more thrusts, holding still, he feels his cock pulsing along with the burning sensation.  A few moments of pressing against her, slipping his shaft out from between her thighs he steps back, watches her trembling body slump between the posts, their mixing bodily fluids dripping to the floor from between her spread legs.

       “Taking the gag out now!”  He states as he reaches behind her neck, unties the black elastic cord.  “You know the gig…  Don’t say shit unless I ask!... Or you know the consequences.”

       Slipping the ball from her mouth, from between her stretched lips, he drops it to the floor as he grips her chin, checks her parched lips, her bruised mouth.  Reaching in his gym bag, untwisting the cap from a clear plastic bottle of spring water, taking a couple gulps as it splashes down across his bare chest, he holds the half empty bottle up to her lips.  “Want some?”  He asks as he lets the water splash across her chin, drip between her breasts as she feverously arches forward, opens her mouth.

       “Thirsty huh?”  He smiles as he holds the collapsing plastic bottle a little higher, watches her anxiously tilt her head back as he lets the water again splash downward across her face. “Tastes good after a couple days of dehydrating don’t it?”  Watching her shake her head as her reddened eyes stay fixed on the tilted bottle, he tilts it even further as he slips the neck of the container between her puckering lips.  Teasingly offering, pulling back the bottle again, he amusingly watches as she finally presses her swollen lips around the top of the bottle, gulping, swallowing as the water also pours off her chin, drips across her naked body jerking between the posts.

       Her first water in over two days, the bottle nearly empty, he smirks.  “Like sucking a dick kind of… Huh?”  Letting the rest of the water pour across her naked breasts, drip off her quivering nipples, he runs his open hand across the firm tit flesh, up and over the globular mounds, back and forth as he feels her wet, thick nipples slide across the palm of his hand.  Dropping the bottle, sliding his other hand down between her glistening brown breasts, across the arch of her ribcage, into the hollow of her flat stomach, inverted navel, his fingers press into the slight outward hump of her pubic mound.

       “Okay… Time for another talk.”  He states as he clenches his fist, presses it against her spread slit, forcing his knuckles between her dripping, spread thighs.  “Time for more answers now or a serious fist fuck up to my forearm!... It’s up to you!”  Spreading her labia by his other fingers circling above his clenched fist, stretching and twisting the folds of the damp flesh; he scowls as he rams his fist upwards.  “Now… I need a name of an asshole’s girlfriend you know so I can find him!”

       “Aaaggghhh!”

Chapter Four

       Driving down the dark streets he watches the street walkers, the hookers through the freshly tinted glass of what seems like the twentieth or so undercover junker he’s taken from the impounding lot since his ultra secret wrecking crew of a one man task force was conceived between him and the Chief.  Answerable only to him, he listens to the car radio’s fm station; turning off his police radio as he searches for his next prey, knowing once he finds her, this car will be crushed and disposed of like all the rest.

       This time a kind of good looking Hispanic, an acquaintance of his latest ‘informant’ he’s just finished with and who’s on her way to the Orient by now, he smiles as he glances down across the seat at a fairly recent mug shot of the next girl, the smoldering cigarette in his hand barely a nub.  Still not even close to twenty-one, thinking that without the gangbanger’s tattoos and the couple piercings, she could be hot, a looker, instead of the look of a cold blooded bitch.  But then again, she’s soon going to experience how it feels to be on the other end, to be enticed to give up her asshole gangsta boyfriend just like her friend was enticed to do after a couple fun filled days of abuse.

       A slight mist turning into a light but persistent rain, flipping the wipers on, he shakes his head as the passenger side blade scratches annoyingly back and forth across the wet windshield.  The streets following suit begin to rapidly thin out, just a handful of girls standing on the stoops of a few of the semi historic but rundown buildings where this girl’s supposed to be the Queen Bee.  Turning the corner on a red light, passing a marked two man cruiser, he holds the swiveling rear view mirror in his hand as he watches the cruiser’s brake lights flash.  Watching his mirror as he turns another corner, he turns down an alley, sits with his lights off as the marked car drives by.

       Last thing he needs tonight is to screw up a fresh ride, he thinks to himself, be seen stopped by a couple rookie gung-ho cops only to be let go in the hood.  Waiting a few moments, flicking the cigarette out the window as he shifts the column shift into reverse, he glances into the mirror at the sudden image of a girl approaching the rear of the car.  Eyes widening, glancing toward the seat, the folder laying atop his stun gun, he thinks… Holy shit!  His mind races as he slips the stun gun between his jeans, the folder under the seat, barely forcing it through the crap crammed underneath it as she taps on the partially open driver glass window.

       “Looking or hiding?”  The girl gives a fake smile as he cranks the window down a couple more turns as he lights another cigarette.

       “Maybe both!”  He answers as he glances out at her while reaching under his seat making sure the police radio next to his nine millimeter’s off, amazed at the good fortune of already finding who’s he’s just started looking for.  “What are you doing girl… Are you looking, hiding, or what?”

       “All depends… Whatcha’ avoiding the Man for anyway?”  She scolds as she glances back over her shoulder, then back into the car as the patter of rain splatters across her bare shoulders, already trickling down across her tanned chest, disappearing between her youthful but big, firm melons she’s so adamantly exposing through the clinging wet cloth of her halter to keep his eyes from the alleyway.

       “Getting those tits wet… Want in out of the rain?”  He can’t help smirking as he slips his hand under the seat while watching the mirror, the front and back of the alley, practically chuckling to himself at the thought of this dumb ass cunt thinking she can pull one over on him, like he’s some kind of fool she can help roll.  Pulling out a wad of folded bills with his free hand, he flicks it, slips it back in his pocket as he catches a glimpse of the young punks at either end of the alley clumsily closing in.

       “Watcha got in mind?”  She plays her game, arching her back while barely covering her rock hard nipples showing through the wet top as her eyes momentarily dart back past the rear of the car while giving a quick nod to the shadows.

       “In or out girl… Two hondo for a titty fuck in my car… Right now… Front seat!”  He smirks, plays her game, the car in gear, his foot on the pedal.  The car held still by the handbrake, he cranes his neck lower, takes a long draw on his Marlboro, watches both ends of the alley though the cracked windshield and the loosely tilted mirror as the silhouettes of the punk thugs slowly approach halfway down either end of the alley alongside a few garbage cans and a couple cardboard boxes.  Thinking quickly, he quips.  “Hop in or I’m outta here… Those cops could be coming back around the block any minute!... Quick!... What is it?... Gonna let me play with those titties you’re so proud of for a few bucks or what?”

       Watching her stepping around the car, hesitating as she again obviously watches the shadows, he flicks his cigarette out the slit of the window, slowly steps on the pedal, lets the car roll slightly backwards as he leans over, releases the door handle.  The door creaking open as he restrains himself from driving away, he blurts.  “Well?... Hop in or I’m the fuck outta here!” 

       “Okay… Okay!... But its two big ones… And right now!”  She can’t resist as she rasps, bends across and slips over the front seat, the door slamming shut as he drops it in gear, guns the engine.

       Falling back against the back of the seat, she feels the car crushing a cardboard box, nicking a couple trash cans as it careens down the alley, past one of the ducking punks planning to roll him.  Sliding almost sideways on the rain dampened street, working the steering wheel, a half block or so away, he hits the brakes at the changing light.

       Grabbing the dash, jerking her head back toward the alley, toward her boys left in the alley, she feels the stun gun pressed against the top curve of her damp left breast, the jolting current knocking her against the car door as the front of the car lights up in a blue haze two, three times.

       “Aaaagghhh!... Agghhh!!!”  Slumping across the seat, her body numb as it reflexively trembles, she momentarily wonders if she’s paralyzed while she lays limp as he slips the cuffs quickly over one wrist, the other, snapping them shut as he’s done at least a thousand times before during his career, not all the time while working.

       Catching a couple green lights, turning on a one way southbound street and he leaves the harsh inner city crime district with his latest prey, almost too easy, too good to be true.  Sometimes luck’s as important as being a good cop, he thinks to himself as he glances toward the dazed girl, her left breast bulging above the tight wet halter, the twin reddish welts to either side of the top of her barely covered thick nipple glistening.

       Holding the stun gun in his right hand, pressing it above the puckered cloth of her damp halter top outlining her jolted nipple, he firmly addresses her.  “Move… Or open that fucking mouth and I’ll burn that tit up… Understand?... I said understand?”

       A micro short burst, her body lurching against the seat again, she grunts, nods without speaking as her head jerks up and down, her hard ass look quickly seeming more like a young girl’s terror.  Cringing against the door, the seat, her hands almost numb already from the tight, metal cuffs, press behind her as tears streak down off her cheeks marring her cheap makeup.

       A short drive, jerking her from the car, forcing her into the vacant building with the stun gun still pressed against her firm breast, guiding her down the double flight of stairs into the subbasement, he approaches the iron door with his prey.  Unlocking it, dragging her by the wrist-cuffs, he forces her to the freshly vacant platform with the pair of wooden crossties; their shackles just recently left open, hanging from both.

       Lowering the stun gun toward her belly button, pressing it inward as she reflexively arches her shoulders forward, he again gives a short flick of the button.

       “Aaagghh!”  A short squeal, the breath knocked out of her, he drops the instrument, grabs her slumping body across his shoulder, holds her upright between the posts.

       Hastily releasing the handcuffs from behind her back, slipping the leather cuff onto her right wrist attached to the inside of the post that he faces to his left, stretching her left arm up toward the other post from her slumping body, tugging, pulling her bowed body upwards, he fastens that cuff.  Kneeling, cuffing the right ankle, leaning across, spreading her legs, cuffing the left ankle, he stands, tilts her head back by her long black hair.

       Taking a deep breath, a look into her hazed eyes as she begins to collect herself and “Smack” a harsh slap across her face with his open hand.  Watching her neck twist, her face turn away, he cups his other hand.  “Smack!”  Stepping toward his gym bag left in the corner, a bottle of water and he uncaps it, soaks the four leather straps attaching the cuffs to the well used wooden posts as he steps around, tugs, stretches the bindings as her body spread-eagles above the floor. 

        “Okay… Adjusted these cuffs a little tighter… Now to strip you bare assed naked.”  Tearing at her skanky halter, finding the hem to the dark top to thick to rip, he watches a globular bare breast bounce out as he continues.  “The next few days are going to be memorable to you… Very memorable and painful too… Bitch!”   Flicking out his pocket knife, probing at the cloth with the gleaming razor sharp blade, he jerks the easily sliced damp material from her chest and drops it to the floor.  Slicing precariously close against her thighs, leaving a noticeable reddish scratch up her left leg, he rips her skin tight red shorts away along with the black thong.

       Ignoring her disoriented stare, stepping back a step, glancing her naked body up and down as he steps around her, he slowly shakes his head as he counts the sluttish tattoos across her shoulder, her inner thigh, the ‘tramp stamp’ decorating the small of her back and some punk’s initials above the nipple on her left tit, obviously one of her boyfriend’s.  Again thinking how decent she could look, her naturally tan body actually impressive, firm and unlike most girls, her bare chest fuller looking out of clothes then wearing them, he grips a jiggling breast, feels the almost sponge like resistance against his fingers of the tattooed globe as he squeezes around its base, watches the dark tan nipple spreading, thickening between his fingertips.

       Guessing ‘C’ cups, actually quite large for her slender frame, maybe even D’s, he grips, squeezes the other breast with the same results before releasing it, watching it bounce.  Cupping her chin, lifting her face upwards in his palm, he stares into her once dark brown, but now swollen and reddened eyes, the pupils hazed.  Traces of saliva drooling across her chin as he slips the tattered used ball gag between her stretching lips, he presses her cheeks together between his fingers and thumb, rasps.  “You’re going to be here for awhile bitch… The bindings attached to these cuffs are going to stay wet so they continue to shrink.”  Fastening the strap behind her neck, checking the left cuffs, the right, he continues.  “By this time tomorrow you’re going to think your arms and legs are being ripped from their sockets…. But then again that’s just the beginning of your problems.” Cupping both melons, he smiles.  “These tits are going to have more welts then you can count before I’m done with them!”

       Again stepping back a step, he’s more then satisfied with his work so far, also satisfied that he’ already scaring the shit out of her.  Enjoying the look of sheer terror in her pleading eyes, he steps behind her and waits a few moments without speaking.  As with most of the others before her, he watches as her naked body begins squirming, her clenched fists and toes flexing as she gyrates between the solid posts as she so stupidly struggles to release herself.  Watching her tits bounce, her thighs ripple as her body almost reflexively jerks back and forth, he again paces slowly around the posts, already planning her drawn out interrogation as his cock hardens against the crotch of his jeans.

       Soaking in the looks of his fresh prey as she finally holds still, stares back at him, her body hot, even with the sluttish art work marring her youthful skin, taking his time as he visualizes his plan in his mind, he thinks to himself that he might as well give her a couple or maybe three workouts, harsh workouts before he even starts to question her.  A serious flogging of the tits with a flat strap for a start always draws their undivided attention, especially if he concentrates on their bare nipples, then maybe for her, a nice supple birch switch to sting across the gapping fleshy orifice of her pussy, that’s after he takes a while to tweak out her bikini cut pubic hairs with a set of pliers until its bare and raw, especially jerk a few of the nubs from around her labia.  Then a good hard fuck in both orifices between her stretched thighs to feel how tight she is, and she can remain there spread-eagled for the rest of the night to contemplate just what she’s facing the next day, and beyond.

       Satisfied with his plan, smiling as it seems to always be the same with maybe a minor revision or two, he stands behind her, unzips his trousers and slides his hands down the sides of her naked body.  Letting his fingers slip into the taut flesh curving inward between her ribcage and her hips, letting his firm cock press between her spread legs, flicking it upwards, twisting his hips to brush his swelling shaft back and forth across her spread vagina, he grinds it across the nub of her clit as her body noticeably trembles in front of him, facing the empty table.

       An hour or so of fucking her and he’ll leave her for the night, let the bindings dry and stretch her good and tight, he thinks to himself as his cock hardens between her quivering butt cheeks.

Chapter Five

       Back to back tight pussys he thinks to himself as he pulls into the half empty parking lot in yet another new sled from the impounding lot.  The morning stop at the donut shop, a couple glazed Danish, a cup of coffee, and a Marlboro, the hat trick for a cop and he’s ready for a new day at the office.  A short drive, keys in hand, unlocking the outside deadbolt of the vacant warehouse, down the stairs, unlocking the iron door, flipping the light on from what was pitch darkness and he smiles toward the slumping body between the crossties in his expertly concealed cell.  Head tilted forward, her chin pressing against her sternum between her outthrust breasts; he steps in front of her.

       Her head slowly rising, her stretched body obviously in pain, aching from the bindings drying overnight, shrinking and tugging at her straining arms and legs, he can’t help but noticing her fingers, toes darkening as the leather cuffs sink into her swelling wrists and ankles.  Her naked body hoisted another good couple inches or maybe more in the obscenely spread pose he left her in, her swollen red eyes flutter from the light, blink and blink again as they stare pleadingly toward him, again more like a frightened child’s then a streetwise gangbanger as he notices the puddle of urine on the floor between her stretched thighs.

       Cupping her bare breasts, glancing toward the twin red welts above her nipple from the stun gun, he tweaks that tan nub between his thumbnail and fingernail.  A muffled grunt from around the tattered ball gag, he tweaks the other nipple just a little harsher.  Her eyes blinking, her head tilting back, he slips his fingers from her nipples, reaches behind her neck and unties the strap of the gag.

       “Not a word bitch… Or I’ll zap both tits until you pass out!... I mean it!”  He orders as he lets the gag drop to the floor, splashing in the puddle of urine.  “Now that we’ve already been intimate I think it’s time for a little understanding between us.”

       Leaning closer to her face, cupping her chin, he quietly speaks.  “You’re going to be mounted like this until I’m done with you… Do everything I say… And I mean everything… And just maybe I won’t torture you quite so bad!”  Watching her widening eyes, appreciating the terror of what she’s trying to comprehend, he adds a little more to his threats.  “Get one thing certain… No matter what… You’re going to be tortured… No way around it… And that’s just because that’s what I like to do!”  Smiling, he adds.  “Your tits… Cunt… Asshole’s going to get more attention then you can ever imagine.”

       Stripping his shirt, shoes, finally his Levi’s, reaching around and gripping both her butt cheeks, he pulls her taut body toward him.  Feeling her pubic mound pressing against his bulging crotch, sliding his chin across her left shoulder, he nibbles on her ear as her naked breasts flatten against his bare chest.  Squeezing, feeling her trembling body, her heart pounding, he listens to her whimpers, smells the fear with the closeness of their pressing bodies.

       “I’m going to fuck you again now…  I expect you to fuck me back before I leave again for awhile.”  He whispers.  “Then latter today when I come back I’m going to whip your pussy with a birch switch until it’s raw!... Then fuck it again while it bleeds.” Holding her tight so he can feel her body shudder as she pathetically groans, he licks her earlobe as his cock flexes between her thighs.  Feeling the dampness of her labia folds stretching around his bulging shaft, he whispers again.  “I’m not going to forget your titties either…  “I’ve got something for them as soon as I’m done fucking you… Over the next couple days they’ll be looking like pin cushions between being flogged across the nipples and being pinned!... But for today, if you work ‘em for me real good while we fuck… I’ll just let you use them as candleholders to keep you out of the dark.”

        Another audible moan, her body shaking, he can feel her tears dripping across his shoulders as he sinks his fingernails into her quivering butt cheeks.  “One last thing for you to think about!”  He adds.  “I’m going to keep hurting you, fucking you, sodomizing you until you beg me to tell you want I want… Then you’re going to cooperate completely… But for now… I’m just going to fuck you some more.”  Gripping tightly around d her waist, he rams his cock home in a single thrust.

       “Oomph!”

       Sliding out, just a moment of hesitating, thrusting back in, he rams his cock inwards even deeper.

       “Aaaggghhh!”

       Sliding his hands from her buttocks, gripping both breasts, he jerks her forward as he leans his shoulders back, thrusts his hips outward.

       “Humph!!”

       Barrowing even deeper, beginning to pump in and out of her quivering slit without hesitating, he stretches her breasts in his clenching fists as he leans back, twisting, tugging at her tit flesh as her body jolts forward from her stretching arms, legs with each savage thrust. Gazing into her hazed eyes, beginning to stroke her in a more relaxing rhythm, he feels his cock throbbing, stretching against her vagina walls.  Grunting, taking longer, slower strokes, he straightens, leans forward against her perspiring chest as he forces the upper curve of the rear of his stiff cock to grind against the nub of her clit.  Tiptoeing, forcing her body upwards as he mounts her, he feels her thighs quivering, her swelling clit reflexively responding as it’s flattened, stretched between his pumping shaft and her pubic bone.

       Her grunts becoming rasps, her breathing heavier, he takes a final, harsh thrust, hesitates before slipping his cock completely free from between her legs and steps back.  Watching her head tilt back, her stomach flexing above her quivering thighs, he decides it’s about time for her first interrogation, then again, maybe right after lunch.  But first, reaching down for the drenched ball gag, stuffing it back inside her mouth and tying its ends behind her neck, he steps back and reaches into his gym bag.  Finding what he’s looking for, he steps back in front of her, between her bare breasts, looks into her widening eyes as he proceeds to manipulate her breasts one at a time to leave her something to think about while he’s gone.

       

Chapter Six

       Again left alone bound ever tighter between the crossties as the light’s turned off, the metal door’s slammed shut.  The nasty, frazzled ball gag again shoved deep inside her mouth, her body cramps, aches as the bindings continue compressing into her wrists and ankles as she tries to jerk, twist loose.  Gagging from the bitter taste of the soaked gag, her head titled forward, she frantically glances in the flickering shadows of the darkness from one quivering breast to the other, her discolored fingers virtually numb as they flex from the creaking bindings as her heart thumps in her chest at the surreal scene.

       Wide eyed, watching the dull flames barely flickering from the pair of thin whitish colored candles mounted on skewers jammed through her bare breasts, she feels the melting wax tracing downward, pooling across the raw wounds of the impaled nipples, dripping off the jiggling, searing nubs.  The initial pain of her impaled nipples slowly compounds with the heat of the molten wax spreading across her flesh, covering the raw piercings.  Minutes passing, the candles melting, shaking her breasts and arching her back, she frantically tries to flick the accumulating molted wax from the mounting heat of her scorching tit flesh.

       Her straining efforts fruitless, tilting her head back, struggling to breathe, to calm herself, she bites into the ball gag in disgust, tastes the remnants of the acrid fluid collecting beneath her on the floor.  Shaking her head as she forces herself to think, to try to tear loose, a couple deep breathes, tensing her arms, legs, barely raising herself between the pillars, dropping back down, she flexes her shoulders, twists her torso while she grunts through the disgusting gag.  The pain tears through her aching limbs as she again stares down toward the candles flickering above her wobbling breasts, the wax still dripping, still collecting around, dripping from her coated nipples, scorching her tender, raw flesh.

       Another few minutes, another painful attempt for relief, again just more agony without dislodging the shortening candles, her efforts only bringing more excruciating pain from the taut bindings.  Tears streaking down her cheeks, the candles beginning to dim as they burn down ever closer to the glistening wax mounds forming around her nipples, she lets her head tilt back, glances up toward the barely visible ceiling from the flickering candle light she’s letting off.  Acquiescent to the constant ache of her bindings pulsing through her body with each heartbeat, she just slumps between the crossties, closes her swollen eyes as she feels a trickle of warm wax dripping across her twitching stomach, the heat of the nubs of the candles beginning to transfer to the metal skewers impaling her searing flesh.

       The door rattling, being unlocked, she apprehensively glances around as he enters the room, flicks on the light, slams the door behind him.  Grunting, reflexively shaking her breasts as the practically burned down candles still flicker, she stares down toward her breasts, pleadingly back into his eyes as he steps in front of her.  The pain of him gripping, jerking one, then the other skewer out from the mounds of molten wax, she grunts as her raw nipples stretch, twist as he tugs.  “Aaagghh… Oomph!”

       The pain intense, yet mixed with a sense of relief, twisting her head back and squinting her eyes shut, she hears his sarcastic voice.  “They’re hour long candles…  Still had a couple minutes left on ‘em.”  Opening her eyes, glancing down toward her searing breasts, she watches his fingers peeling the wax away, melding her breasts as he examines the redness of her flesh, massages the oozing piercings of the nipples.  Again she barely comprehends what he’s saying as her head slumps back.  “Didn’t want to leave you in the dark again while I was gone!... Next time I might just turn you upside down and use your pussy and asshole for a set of candle holders!”

       Watching him again reaching for his athletic bag, grabbing a clean white towel, a fresh plastic container of rubbing alcohol and stripping the cap, she moans as he soaks a third or so of the cloth.  Dropping the container back into the bag, cupping a breast, he swipes back and forth, ignoring her muffled screams as her body reflexively quivers, her head jerking back and forth.  The pain unimaginable, feeling him gripping her other marred mound, swiping across that nipple, scrapping the remnants of the wax away from the scolded, impaled flesh, her naked body flexes in her restraints as she frantically clamps down into the remnants of the gag gasping for breath.

       The room spinning, darkening, the pit of her stomach churning, she fights back the choking sensation in her throat as her naked body spasms, her brutalized breasts exploding with unmanageable pain.  Head falling back, body slumping, the pain fades along with her consciousness.

Chapter Seven   

       So far so good, he thinks to himself as he takes the time to give her naked body a good long look, stretched between the posts unconscious.  Sliding his fingers across her bare flesh as he sponges it down he appreciates the firmness of her youthful body.  The impossible to duplicate gravity defying breasts only an early developing woman child could develop stand out, separate.  Globular yet natural, in a couple, a few years at the most they’ll undoubtedly be sagging, full of stretch marks, even more tattoos, what a waste.  Continuing across her thighs, between the rounded rumps of her butt cheeks, he sponges the folds of her labia, just puffy enough to barely protrude, perfect for clamps, perfect to be stretched, even pierced.

       Checking her tattoos, shaking his head, he can’t understand why girls like this let punks put their brands on them for life, the same punks who’ll go through one girl after the other, knocking up a few on the side.  One thing though, her punk’s not going to be around long enough, he’ll be paying that table across from her a visit in a day or two.  Then again, she’ll be taking a cruise herself, with a one way ticket.

       Unbinding the mouth gag, again dropping it into the spreading puddle on the floor between her legs, he caressingly sponges her face, swipes across her lips, nose, forehead as he takes in her natural beauty.  A nice slow soothing layer of salve generously applied across her breasts, her swollen nipples, even some between her spread thighs, he feels her semiconscious body responding.  Again, her face appearing calm, not the hard ass look, she’s actually quite pretty, even kind of exotic as she flutters in and out.  The right makeup, without the tattoos, she could have been a model, then again, she’d probably rather be a stripper.

       Her eyes fluttering, the eyelids barely parting, the tip of her tongue’s visible between her spreading lips.  The moisture from the sponge glistening across her face, he leans forward, tilts her head back with his left hand as he presses his lips across hers.  Cupping the tip of her tongue with his lips, gently tugging back, he stretches her tongue outward, nibbles on it with his teeth.  Softly sucking on it, flicking his tongue across it, he hears her moan, feels her breasts’ pressing against his chest.  Slipping a finger between her thighs, flicking her clit, he continues sucking, nibbling on her tongue as her hips twitch, she moans again.

       Thumb and finger manipulating her responding nub, slipping in a couple more fingers into her damp slit, he continues pressing his mouth across hers, continues feeling her reflexive responses.  Hearing her moans, her sighs with each breath, he probes a little deeper, pinches the swelling nub a little harsher.  Enjoying himself but restraining himself, he releases her tongue, slips his hand down from her quivering slit.  Stepping back a step, his eyes fixed on her response, he sees the haziness in her eyes, sees the rippling stomach muscles under her defined ribcage as her head lifts.

       Stepping behind her, out of her view, he smiles.  Now to inflict some more pain, another night of her rollercoaster treatment, everything calculated to mess with her mind.  Tomorrow he’ll be able to lure another punk ass gangbanger into his lair with her help.  Slipping the last cigarette from the crumpled pack, lighting it, tossing the pack on the empty floor, a deep puff and he steps in front of the girl.

       Her expression confused, in pain, in fear, yet having been treated almost tenderly, she watches as he takes another drag, twists the cigarette around.  “Take a puff!”  Holding it to her lips, watching as she hesitantly sucks in, coughs, he flips the cigarette back around, holds the glowing tip in front of her face.  The smoke trailing upwards, another cough and she turns her head.  A smile, lowering his free hand, cupping, squeezing her left breast, he lowers the lit cigarette between her breasts, toward the swelling left nipple.  The salve still glistening, a tinge of crimson spreading across her areola, he tilts the lit end against the puckering nub.

       The searing sound actually audible, her head jerks back as it takes a moment for the sensation of the burning cigarette to register.  Her raw nipple already seared, the heat of the Marlboro intensifies as he presses inward, forcing the nub of her nipple to invert into her bulging tit flesh.

       “Aaaggghhh!”

       Enjoying her scream, letting that tit drop, sway between them, he cups her right breast.  Another squeeze of its base, another long, slow draw off the cigarette, he presses the reddened tip against that glistening nub.  Another moment of the heat transferring through the salve, another escalated searing pain against her already scorched flesh and he’s satisfied with another of her screams.  “Aaaggghhh!”

       Glancing down at the bent cigarette already half burnt down, he takes another draw, glances at the crumpled package on the floor.  “Damn… Last one.”  He smirks as he releases her breast, gives it a light smack.  “No more cigarettes for you tonight!”  The ball gag again picked up off the floor, again stuffed between her lips, he again ties it behind her neck.

       Stepping toward the door, flicking off the light, he lets her hang between the posts to contemplate her treatment, wait for tomorrow.  A last glance, he shuts the door, locks it tight.  As he leaves the building he realizes that by noon tomorrow he’ll have all the information he needs to get the next asshole.

End Part One

                           

     

         

      

       

             

              

         

       

               

         

       

TASKFORCE

Part Two

The saga continues…

Chapter Eight

       Driving around the typical ghetto neighborhood after leaving the warehouse’s subbasement to get his fresh pack of cigarettes, watching the street corners, the usual rabble wasting perfectly good oxygen as they walk around like they own the streets, he lets the manila folder cover the nine millimeter on the front seat.  Again listening to the car’s fm with one ear, his police radio between his thighs, he listens to the usual bullshit, the usual run of the mill middle of the night dispatches with his other.

       Stopping at a red light, across from him a mixed group’s hanging around the corner building’s stoop of what used to be a mom and pop neighborhood grocery, now cut up into multiple one room apartments, probably housing as many people as roaches.  Sitting with his elbow hanging out the window, his Marlboro between his fingers, he glances toward the four or five guys mostly on the sidewalk, the couple or so girls with them milling about by the open door.  A little shuffling in the group, he hears one of the punks yell out.

       “What the fuck you looking at Whitey?... Better get your ass through that light!”

       Reaching his hand back inside the car, a long drag of the shortening cigarette, he flicks it out in the street, a nice toss, halfway toward the mingling group while he eyes the slender, young girl with bleached blondish hair, appearing to be the only Caucasian in the group and with the least amount of clothes.  Sliding his other hand over his issued piece, resting his fingers across its cold steel, he smiles toward the mouthy punk, sits motionless as the light changes to green.

       “Motherfucker… I said you better get your white ass out of here!”

       Chuckling to himself as the supposing badass tough guy takes a couple steps toward the curb, he watches him hesitate as he points his finger back out the window toward him.  Cocking his thumb, mimicking popping off a round as he give a “fuck you” smirk, he casually reaches his hand back inside.  Slipping his fresh pack of Marlboros from his shirt pocket, he continues to stare down the group while he presses the lighter in the dash, waits for it to heat up, the traffic light again cycling to yellow, to red.

       Enjoying the mixed looks of the befuddled group, again glancing toward the out of place white girl practically showing her tits in her sluttish halter and short shorts, he hears one of the guys telling the badass.  “Better leave that motherfucker alone… He’s either crazy of he’s the fucken’ heat!”

       The traffic light changing to green again, resting his arm on the driver door, the fresh cigarette in his fist, he smiles, takes a long thoughtful drag while taking another close look at the girl as their eyes seem to lock, her index finger barely rising.  Slowly nodding back with his usual smirk, sliding his finger from the trigger of the semi-automatic next to him on the seat, he grips the steering wheel, drives on as he thinks to himself just how right the lucky bastard is, on both counts!

       Driving home, also keeping an image of the punk’s face in his photographic memory, he makes a mental note to look up some mug shots in the next day or two.  Maybe that asshole’s already becoming a detriment to the community; maybe he’ll need a private attitude adjustment, maybe a cast for an arm or leg, maybe even a body cast.  Another thoughtful draw on the cigarette, turning up the fm’s music, he smiles to himself as he flips the butt out the window, reaches for the pack, thinking he probably should have bought two. 

Chapter Nine

       The beginning of the third day of her spread-eagled bindings and she’s had nothing to drink or eat during that time.  Her naked body dehydrating, her arms and legs numb between cramps, the rest of her body aches from the multitude of abuse.  Head slumping forward across her sternum, her breasts crisscrossed with welts, bruises, her upper thighs and swollen spread slit’s also discolored with their own abuse.

       Barely able to focus through her swollen eyes, her breathing  just wheezing gasps for air through her flailing nostrils, her thoughts, her fears have long since become barely comprehensible in her exhausted state both physically and mentally.  Time meaningless, minutes seeming like hours, hours like days, the confining cell is either pitch dark or glaring with light when she’s coherent enough to dissimilate the difference.

       Functioning practically on instinct alone, she realizes when the iron door clangs open, somewhere on her naked body she’s about to receive another measure of pain that she can’t shield herself from.  Sometimes the pain’s unbearable, even leading to blackouts, other times it’s inflicted along with sexual abuse, all the time sadistic.  Eyes parting, blinking in the pitch darkness, hearing sounds outside the room that just a couple days ago would be impossible for her to sense, she hears the manipulation of the iron door being disturbed.  The light flicked on above her, the glare searing into her throbbing head like daggers through her eyes, she squints as the footsteps approach her from behind, the door slamming shut.

       “Swish!... Thwack!”

       The searing burn between her thighs, across her swollen vulva barley causes a reflex.  Maybe a pitiful grunt at best, her head barely lifting as the pain’s almost become the norm.

       “Swish… Thwack!”

       “Oomph!”

       The leather crop ripping across both swollen breasts, tearing at the pair of engorged, discolored nipples and her grunt’s actually audible through the half chewed ball gag.  Her head tugged back by her frazzled hair, her face twisting toward her side and she squints her swollen eyes shut.  “Smack!” And open hand cuffing her left cheek, again she doesn’t even grunt, just the impossibly stretching bindings creaking between the crossties and her nearly disjointed extremities.

       Reaching in his athletic bag, another clear bottle of spring water, this one a larger one, he twists off the cap and takes his usual couple healthy swallows.  Holding the neck of the bottle in front of her face, again tilting her head back by her hair he lets the water dribble down across her parched lips stretching around the ball gag.

       Not in much of a mood, a lot on his mind, he scowls.  “Want some?”  As he unsnaps the rear of the ties to the gag, he tugs the disintegrating ball from her mouth, tosses it toward the floor.

       Eyes barely able to open between her swollen lids, feeling the cool, fresh water across her parched lips, across her nostrils, she barely grunts as she attempts to shake her head, force her aching jaws to move.  Letting the water splash across her face, cupping her chin, he holds the opening just an inch or less from her parting lips.  Tipping, pouring the water, he watches her gulp, frantically swallow as a like amount splashes, drips across her bare chest, her quivering breasts as she arches herself forward in her restraints.

       A couple more tilts, the water she’s not able to swallow cascading off her naked body, pooling, mixing with the bodily fluids already spreading beneath her on the damp floor, he nonchalantly watches the light reflecting off her taut flesh, her abused but rock hard breasts.  Pulling the bottle back, another drink himself and he again tips the bottle above her trembling lips.  Pouring the rest of it across her face, letting most splash against her bare flesh, he tosses the empty bottle into the top of the gym bag.

       Slowly stepping behind her, having just left C.I.S. downtown and not even having stopped at the donut shop, the day’s not off to a very good start.   While checking over some mug shots, finding the punk’s from last night, he got the information this girl’s man was arrested during an altercation, a domestic violence while he was cutting up another of his dumb ass bitches, the pimp bastard.  Incarcerated in county lockup, his lucky ass will have to wait a while before being enticed here.

       Stepping on around the pillars, another couple of terrycloth’s from his gym bag and he uses another bottle of water to start cleaning up her naked body.  Plenty of welts and bruises but the short stay hasn’t left any real permanent damage.  No serious cuts, the piercings will easily heal, he thinks to himself as he circles her slumping body, again glancing at the fucked up tattoos that’ll probably cost him a few bucks when she’s auctioned.  A quick phone call, she’ll be out of here before noon, out of the country before nightfall.  In a few days when she’s mostly healed up, she’ll be laying on her back with a line of guys taking turns in some whorehouse, what a fucking waste.

       Done with the cloth towels, tossing them in the bag, he takes out a black eye mask, slips it cross her face.  Sliding a fresh bright red ball gag in her mouth, stretching her aching jaws again, tightening its straps behind her neck, she’s ready for delivery when they show up for her.  Stepping back behind her, one final glance over, thinking how tight she is as he softly runs the tips of his fingers across her ribcage, her waist, he stops just beside her moist labia, spreads the lips gently apart.  Thinking just how good she feels, he kinda’ shrugs, decides not to fuck her one last time as the blondish girl from last night keeps popping up in his thoughts.  Turning away, slamming the door behind him he locks it before leaving.  When he comes back the pillars will be empty, and available.

Chapter Ten

       Not quite dark, his earlier phone call already producing its results, he flips his cell phone shut as he’s been informed she’s been picked up, on her way as all the others.  The pillar’s empty, his bank account’s full again, a down payment so to speak.

       Leaving the impounding lot, the gate closing behind him, he makes sure the fm station works along with the cigarette lighter in his new ride.  A Caddy of all things, what the Hell, it’s only fifteen years old.  A stop for another pack of cigarettes, some coneys, extra onions and it’s another night of prowling.

       Having taken his time, a watered down coke with not enough ice, fries and three cheese Coney’s, along with a like number of cigarettes, it’s back in his newest ride.  Downtown, the center of the hood, he drives past the corner from last night, leaning toward the center of the seat, arm rest down, pimpin as he appropriately listens to the ‘Shaft’ theme from a local black fm station.  No one out yet, another misty rain and the streets are basically empty.  Feeling that stirring in his stomach, it’s not the onions; it’s somehow wanting to find that girl, no particular reason like the rest, just a hunch, just maybe, also his hard-on.

       Circling a couple times, he lets the occasional drops of rain streak down across the windshield without the wipers on.  Another loop of the seedier part of the area, the rain a little harsher, he just has that feeling, rain seems to bring him luck on his quests.  Turning the wipers to intermittent, a short smile with a nod to the music as they both actually work, he again trolls the area close to that corner, parks for a while less then a block away.

       Cracking the window open just a couple inches, the smoke of his cigarette curling toward the ceiling, out the door as he sits at the curb, the motor running, he watches the wipers swiping back and forth once in awhile, the traffic light a block away in front of the old grocery.  Flicking through the fm channels, catching the end of a Hank Williams Jr. song, he catches a glimpse of the blonde girl getting off a bus between the corner building and his car.

       “Damn!”  He practically blurts out to himself.  Dropping the shift in drive, slowly pulling forward, the rain comes down even harder, the sounds of the downpour pounding across the car’s roof.  Sliding up next to her as she’s quickly walking with her arm above her head, purse in hand for cover, he stops, swings the passenger door open.  “Need a lift?”

       Glancing over, nodding no as she continues to lean forward in her brisk pace, he glances toward the empty stoop in front of the old store, reaches in his belt, flashes his badge.  “I think you do… Now!”  His most assertive voice, impressing even himself, he adds.  “Get in … Now!”

       Stopping, shaking her head with a frown, herself glancing across the street, toward the building, she leans down.  “What the fuck did I do?”  She scowls as she glances at the badge, realizes it’s probably for real.

       “Just take a moment.”  He scolds.  “Get in before you get drenched…. Hurry!... The damn seats getting soaked!”

       Sliding in, already soaking wet, he glances her over, her wet top clinging to her youthful breasts, not so big but already a firm rack.   As she tugs her hair back, her makeup overly done, her perfume a little too strong, he still sees the natural good looks underneath everything else.

       “What?”  She sarcastically asks, too belligerent for her age, yet just a hint of trepidation as she stares toward him.

       “Just need to show you something… To ask a couple questions… I’ll bring you right back when we’re done.”  He answers with authority as he drops the car in gear, drives past the building, through the green light.

       Glancing across the seat, a frown on her face, she stutters.  “You… You the guy from… from last night… At the light?

       Glancing back, barely a nod he answers.  “Yeh… That’s me… The guy who backed those punks down… The guy you gave the finger too!”  Staring past her, out the passenger door window, pointing with a quick nod, he blurts.  “There… There… Who’s that?”

       Jerking her head toward the door glass, glancing out into the rain, the darkness, no one in sight, she starts to turn back as she quips.  “Where… Who……..”

       The needle jamming into her neck, she almost instantaneously blacks out as she slumps back on the seat, her purse falling on the floor as he drops the syringe in the ashtray.  Lifting the open package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, flicking his wrist, flicking a Marlboro up from the pack, he grips it between his lips, pushes in the cigarette lighter.  Dropping the pack on the seat, pressing the reddened tip of the lighter against the cigarette, he puffs a couple draws, slides the lighter back into the dash.  A short ride back to the warehouse, the pillars are vacant, for the time being.

Chapter Eleven

       Eyes blinking, arms, legs aching, she tries to move in the pitch black, can’t.  Turning her head, flexing her fingers, her toes, she grunts through the harsh rubber ‘O’ ring stuffed between her yawning lips.  Heart pounding, stomach churning, she jerks, twists as the leather cuffs chaff at her wrists, her ankles.  Shoulders aching, thighs aching, she realizes she’s spread out, her extremities bound in stretching ropes, upside-down!

       Feeling the drool dripping across her face from the circular gag, the coolness across her bare flesh, it’s obvious to her that she’s naked.  Jerking her head back, overwhelmed by her predicament, she feels the tears flowing, crisscrossing as they drip across her forehead.  Again glancing around, the darkness seeming darker then black, her mind’s hazy as she tries to understand what’s happening, where she’s at.

       The light flicking on above her spread-eagled body, the glare blinds her as she’s forced to squint, keep her eyes shut.  Hearing a metal door clanking open, slamming shut, she turns her head toward the sound, barely squints.  The shadow of a man stepping around her, behind the pillars, she squints across one shoulder then the other, her heart pounding, thumping erratically in her chest as she twists her wrists, ankles in there bindings as even with the pain of the brilliant light, she focuses on the wooden pillars, up toward her naked body stretched between them.

       Feeling a hand tugging back on her hair, her head jerking back, eyes rising upward toward the bright light, she feels the cloth mask slipped over her forehead, her eyes.  Again darkness as the straps are bound behind her neck holding the eye mask in place.  Her nostrils flaring with each forced breath, her jaws aching as her teeth dig into the hard rubber ring, she feels herself on the verge of hyperventilating, the pit of her stomach queasy with fear, the sense of nausea enveloping her.

       Stepping slowly around the pillars, a plastic bottle of body oil in one hand, he squeezes, allows a generous portion to build in the palm of his other hand.  Dropping the bottle on the floor, he slides his hand full of oil across her sternum, begins smoothing, spreading both hands across her breasts.  Sliding his palms across her nipples, around the outer curves of both melons, he feels the firmness of her young breasts, standing out just as firm upside down as right side up, feels the instant hardness of her puckering nipples.

       Ignoring her grunts, spreading his hands between her thighs, watching the oil streak down across her bare torso after collecting between her tautly stretched thighs, he leans over for the bottle, allows a similar amount to pour across her bare, gapping vagina.  Shaking the bottle, spreading her cunt lips apart, filling the gapping hole, the overflow streaks down between her breasts, across her nipples, drips across the floor.  Rimming her rectum, flicking his thumb in the sloshing slit of her vagina, obviously not a virgin, he smiles to himself at the thought of the next pair of candleholders, imagines the wax mounds forming between her stretched thighs.  He’ll leave that light on for her when he leaves in a while.

       Massaging her from her toes to down to her neck, watching her body glisten under the stark light, he inspects her milky skin, still unmarred.  Kneeling, melding her breasts again, inspecting the firm pinkish little mounds of each of her areolas and nipples smoothly formed without nubs, the barest indentations of slits across the pointed tips, feeling their thickness as they stand out off her firm tit flesh, he guesses C ups, a nice size for her wiry body.

       Stepping behind her, sliding his fingers across the rounded mounds of her almost boyish butt cheeks, flicking the tip of his finger across the narrow bridge of flesh between her puckered rectum and the slit of her vagina, he can feel her reflexively twitching, see the folds of her vagina quiver under the shimmering coat of moist oil.  Young, almost childish features except for her firm breasts, her I.D. from her purse showing she’d just recently had her eighteenth birthday; he wonders just where she’ll be on her nineteenth.

       Deciding to play a little game with her to start, reaching in his athletic bag, pulling a short length of tightly knotted rope, each knot not quite the size of a golf ball, he slides it back and forth across the floor beneath her letting it soak up some of the body oil as he curls it around.  Standing, pushing the first knot between the stretching folds rimming her vagina, he stuffs it inside her as he ignores her muffled grunts.  The following knot a couple inches further up the rope, he slips it in next.  Feeling her hips trembling, her vagina quivering, he slips the third and forth knots in with one long shove of his fingers and thumb.  Her labia spreading, the knots disappearing, he continues pressing the rope in between her jerking thighs until all dozen knots are packed tightly into her crammed slit with just a couple inches of rope left dangling across the dark bikini cut on her pubic mound.

       Tapping her on her belly, feeling it puffed out just a tad, he wonders what thoughts could possibly be dancing through her head.  Reaching in the bag, a second rope, he also drags it across the wet floor, lets the first knot slap across her butt cheeks before stuffing its end into her puckered rectum.  Forcing her sphincter muscles to spread, each knot ‘plopping’ into the tight orifice, it takes a little more effort as he counts the knots scraping their way inside her rear orifice.  Halfway through stuffing her anus, her grunts louder and closer together as the tendons in her thighs tighten, stretch beneath her taut milky flesh, he probes each knot inward with a thumb, forcing it to disappear as he causes her body to spring gently up and down in the flexing ropes.

       Finally the last knot joining the rest between her stretching legs, just the last couple inches of that rope left dangling between her butt cheeks; he’s satisfied with the preparation between her spread thighs.  Taking a step back, again almost casually inspecting her trembling body spread upside-down; he contemplates what to do with her breasts, the rare nipples, thick and perky, firmly standing out no different then if she was bound right side up.

       Almost feeling a sense of compassion, a tinge of remorse in realizing she’s so young, he softly strokes her breasts, gently squeezes, melds them as her body almost vibrates between the ropes.  Gripping a little firmer, a partial twist with both hands and the thought passes as he recalls the sluttish way she looked the other night, the assholes she was hanging with, where she was headed again when he confronted her.

       That rare moment passing, it’s back to normal, for him.  Standing and checking out his assortment of whipping implements in the corner basket, picking a short, supple birch switch and he realizes it’s appropriate for such a youngster.  Flicking it back and forth, hearing the ‘Swishing’ sound through the confinements of the small room, he kneels, sits and crosses his legs in front of her.  Eyes level with her hanging breasts; he lets the tip of the switch roll across one nipple, the other with his right hand.  Oil still dripping from their pink tips, he flexes the end of the switch with his right hand, bows it back until it touches his other hand, lets it rip.

       “Swish… Thwack!”

       “Aaaggghhh!”  Her grunt echoes off the walls as her naked body bucks, the switch impacting the outer edge of her left areola, nipple.

       “Swish… Thwack!”

       “Oomph!”  Another grunt as her right breast jerks, bounces from the impact of the birch switch flailing across its nipple.

       Lowering the switch above his crossed knees, glancing from one reddish welt to the other over her otherwise creamy flesh, he’s satisfied the lotion’s working, the welts aren’t tearing the flesh of her naked breasts.  Glancing toward her face, the tears from under the mask mixing with the drool from the red ‘O’ ring, dripping in lingering trails across the floor, he glances up toward the dangling end of the rope across her pubic mound.

       Reaching up with his left hand, slipping the end of the rope between his index finger and thumb, he slowly kneels in front of her trembling body.  Gripping tightly, barely lifting until the rope tenses, he steadies himself, jerks the rope in one harsh yank straight upwards.

       “Aaaaaagggggghhhhhhh!!!... Aaaagggghhhhh!!!”  Screaming though the ‘O’ ring, her body lurches upwards, the knots rippling across her clitoris, tearing between her flapping labia lips.  Watching her stomach flex, her thighs spasm, he jerks a second time, the last few knots again exploding out from between her crammed orifice.  “Aaaaagggghhhh!!”

       Lowering himself, again crossing his legs, he lets her body go through its spasms, waits as she arches, twists, jerks at her bindings as her rasping grunts subside.  Noticing the pair of welts becoming even brighter, thicker, he leans back some, adjusts his aim so the very tip of the switch lines up with just the pointed tip of her coned nipple.  Flexing the switch, after a couple trail aims, he holds it until the tip touches his wrist, lets it spring forward.

       “Swish… Thwack!”  Perfectly centered, the switch slices within a fraction of an inch against the tip of the left nipple.

       “Aaaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhh!!!”

       “Swish… Thwack!!”  A second, quick bow of the switch, a quick release across the other nipple.

       “Oooooooommmmmmmpppppppphhhh!!!”  Another animalistic scream as her right breast flails across her heaving chest, just the tip of the nipple imprinted with the mark of the supple switch.

       Quickly kneeling in front of her jerking, twisting torso, her arms, legs springing up and down in the rope bindings, he grips the knotted rope between her butt cheeks, yanks it straight upwards, completely tearing it out from her rectum, the feel not unlike a washboard to him as the knots ripple outward, grinding past her sphincter muscles as her glistening, drenched body lurches repeatedly upwards, springs back.        “Aaaaagghh……………………..”

         The last knot smacking across a butt cheek, a red welt instantaneous, she slumps in her restraints.  Her head swaying, her exhausted body spasms once, twice before she becomes completely limp.

       Standing, dropping the dampened switch back into the basket, he glances back toward her, shaking his head at the little bit of torment that she could endure.  A pair of fresh wax candles from his athletic bag, stuffing one in her reddened rectum, the other in her gapping slit, he reaches in his pocket, flicks the last Marlboro out and slips it between his lips as he crumples the pack.  Searching for a match, finding a matchbook in his front Levi’s pocket, he lights his cigarette, takes a couple puffs before leaning over her spread thighs and lights the rear candle first, the one in her vagina second as the match flickers out.

       Another couple slow draws on his smoke, aligning the pair of candles perfectly level between her thighs; he stretches the tight folds of her labia evenly around the front candle, gives her butt cheeks a playful smack and kneels down.  Slipping the mask from her eyes, off her head, glancing at the crisscrossing welts on her perky breasts, he tosses the black mask in his athletic bag, steps toward the door.  Flicking the light switch as he steps through the doorway, watching the room flicker by the dancing light of the pair of candles, he quietly shuts the door and locks it.  An hour give or take, time for a couple more cheese coneys, without so many onions this time and a fresh pack of smokes, he wonders what her thoughts will be when she wakes up.

End Part 2  

          

                           

         

       

       

       

       

    

TASKFORCE

Part three

A trip to the society that one of his client’s belongs to, the beginning of a long evening.

Chapter Twelve

       Laying her on her back on the flat metal table, her body sponged, shaven, again he massages her bare flesh with a fine coat of scented body oil.  Neck to toes, melding her supple curves, her youthful, firm breasts, he leisurely works her naked body with his fingertips.  A generous amount across her vagina, her rectum, both slightly reddish from the heat of the candle wax, a fresh bath towel, likewise wiping her down, her flawless creamy flesh glistens as he opens the overnight bag to begin dressing her.  Starting with an expensive pair of black mesh silk stockings, sliding them one at a time up across her feet, ankles, above the knees, smoothing, spreading the delicate shear nylons out across her thighs, he aligns the dark hem just a few inches below the folds of her freshly shaven labia.

       The thin hems not unlike perfect black pencil marks running up the back of her legs highlight the perfect alignment of the stockings as he adjusts them to a precise even height.  A cinching stark black corset next, partially leather, partially a fine cloth, sliding it under the small of her back, wrapping the hour glass garment across her bellybutton, he slowly straps the side of the corset together.  Alternately tugging the black draw strings on either side, drawing one side, then the other ever tighter as they crisscross the curves of her waist, the black material contrasting with her milky white flesh leaves just her bare pubic mound, her rounded hips and the tops of her thighs exposed above the stockings.

       Several back and forth adjustments, each time narrowing her already diminutive waist, he watches the curving hem of the top of the corset settle under the arch of her ribcage, force her chest outward, her firm C cup breasts remarkably swelling, actually bulging, separating as her thick cone shaped areolas and nipples stand out from the mounting pressure.

       Gripping both hands around her cinched waist, surprised at how close he come to touching his fingers and thumbs, he guesses the amazing diameter of no more then eighteen, maybe nineteen inches at the most.  A black choker collar next, not the usual, this one curved, sloping up in the front, cupping her chin, forcing her head to tilt slightly back, her face to remain forward, he straps it in place.

       Rolling her over onto her stomach, amused at the sight of her being raised up from the metal slab by her bulging breasts, her head remaining tilted back by the collar, he lifts her arms behind her, begins slipping a single piece bondage sleeve up her arms.  Allowing for the looseness, sliding the black leather upwards between her arms and the back of the corset, he slips the flat leather straps across her shoulders, crisscrosses them behind her neck and fastens them in place on the top of the sleeve.

       Starting at the bottom, tugging the leather drawstrings, he compresses the leather, forces her hands together, her wrists likewise, continues up her forearms.  Tugging tighter, he forces her elbows to draw closer behind her arching back.  Another tug, another twist as the strings tightens and he feels her elbows touching.  Gripping the ends of both strings, leaning his waist against the table, he grunts as he works the strings, forces her shoulders to arch behind her, bow inside the leather sleeve, her torso to arch outward.

       Another tug, another jerk and her sternum flattens against the flat surface, her bulging breasts spreading outward to either side of her bare chest, their inner curves flattening apart across the glistening metal.  Adjusting the binding, the sleeve firmly in place, he turns her over on her back, her enclosed arms.  Laying face up, chin tilted back in the collar, her chest arches upwards, her milky breasts jaunting outward, separating as her pinkish nipples and areolas glisten, standing straight out in opposite directions.

       The final touch for her attire, an eight inch pair of black leather stiletto heels.  Slipped on one foot, the other, their tops just below the defined outline of each calf, he straps them firmly in place.  Finished with that aspect of her preparation, he adjusts a set of straps around her thighs, her waist and just below her breasts.  Adjusting the table, the head rising upward, the foot lowering until touching the floor, her body still slumped back; she’s almost upright as he begins preparing her finishing touches.

       Adept at applying actor’s makeup, long years of working undercover, numerous disguises, he pulls out the old kit, begins with greasing her bleached blond hair severely back.  Starkly stretching and combing it straight back from her forehead, flat against her scalp, he watches as its shade darkens, contrasts with her fair complexion.  Makeup next, going through the kit he works on her face, eyebrows, eyelids, lashes.  He continues sculpting her youthful face into something exotic as he concentrates on his work with bright red lipstick to finish off his work.  Slipping a matching bright red ‘O’ ring between her lips, fastening its black straps behind her neck, he steps back to admire his handiwork.

       Momentarily chuckling to himself, the thought passes through his mind that if anyone saw him doing something like this with makeup and joked about it, he might have to kill ‘em, really.  Checking through the kit, a little rouge for her cheeks, a touch for her slightly welted nipples and areolas from the previous switching, and a tad for her puffy labia folds just to highlight them, she’s ready.

       An ammonia capsule between his fingers, her body already starting to show life, snapping, whiffing it below her nostrils and she coughs, her head twitching as its held firm by the arching collar.  Glancing into her big blue eyes as they dart from side to side, watching her trying to move, to feel her arms, he adjusts the table completely upright.  Watching her barely able to stand in the stilettos as he unfastens the trio of black leather straps, he grips her by the bondage sleeve, leads her away from the table in slow, halting steps.  Walking beside her, guiding her slowly around the room, he watches her ankles wobble in the high heels; her steps awkward.  Stopping, turning her, her breasts jaunt outward, barely swaying toward her sides as she grunts through the ‘O’ ring, her eyes darting toward him as saliva drools from the ring, drips across breastbone.

       Leading her back to the table, turning her back against it, his eyes rivet on hers as he lifts a trio of Japanese clover clamps attached by thin silver chains from his satchel.  Cupping her left tit, slipping the spread clamp deep onto the thick cone of her bruised areola, he releases the gleaming chrome.

       “Oomph!”

       The right breast cupped, the clamp slipped across that slightly swollen nipple, the clamp pressing into the meaty nub, he releases it.

       “Oomph!”

       The third clamp dangling between her thighs from the swaying chain forming a ‘Y’ he pinches her clit, sore and swollen from the molten wax, tugs it out from between the slit of her thighs.  Forcing the clamp open, slipping its tongs across the edges of his fingers, he releases it across her clit.

       “Aaaggghhh!”

       The chrome gleaming, the chains not quite taut, just a hint of swaying, her body arches sideways against the slab of metal as she bends forward, presses her knees together.

       Straightening her by the bondage sleeve, tears trickling off her cheeks, he again forces her away from the table, again to gingerly step around the room.  Grunting with each step, arching forward as the clamps dangle from her crushed nipples, the third clamp partially buried between her puffy labia, he feels her body trembling with each step until she makes her round, stopping again in front of the table.

       Pressing her bound arms against it, tilting it slightly back until it locks in place, he stands beside the table, watches her body twitching, flexing as the chains and clamps glisten under the bright light.

       “Okay… You ready for a night on the town?”  He sarcastically asks as he cups her left breast, squeezes its base, watches the tong on the clover clamp barely spread apart across her bulging nipple.  Releasing it, watching the clamp barrow itself back into her thick nipple, watching her near naked body arching upward, away from the table as she grunts through the ’O’ ring, he smirks. “I’ll take that for a yes!”

       A private club just up state, the one with the clients who’s more then happy to bid on his property when he’s done with them, he’s accepted their invitation to relax for an evening, partake in some of their activities, of course using her, letting her be used to what ever extent they desire, that’s how he got the stunning outfit for her, asked to dress her accordingly.  Glancing at his watch, just a matter of minutes and the limousine will be here.  An eye mask from the satchel, the second to last item of the delivery, her face carefully covered to not mar the makeup; he leads her out of the cell, locking the door behind them with a leather leader leash affixed to the front of the collar, the final item.

Chapter Thirteen

       A couple hour drive, just the pair of them in the back of the stretch limo, all the free refreshments in the open bar, he kills time by playing with her assets.  Some ice across her nipples, a little forced between her spread slit, unclamping, re-clamping the clover clamps across her tortured nipples and clit, he listens to her steady groaning responses as time passes.

       Forced to sit with her legs spread across the leather seat, he finally forces her to spread her hips across his knees while facing forward, to arch upwards and slide her butt cheeks across his erection.  Sliding her up and down on his shaft with his hands across her corset, leisurely mounting one orifice, then the other as the clamps dangle in front of her, he enjoys her tight little body, the complete dominance he has over her as the limo continues through the countryside.

       The gated driveway, the winding manicured entrance to the mansion on the hill, the typical storybook setting to a cheap porno novel, he thinks to himself as the limo passes under the bevy of trees, past the carved hedge caricatures of naked women in obscene poses.  Pulling into the circle leading to the veranda engulfing the main entrance, he’s struck by several marble statues of a similar theme, before catching the view of another pair of bound women, one to either side of the walkway.  Not caricatures but live, sadistically displayed facing one another, his interest perks.

       Stepping from the limo as the driver holds the door, carefully slipping off her mask, leading her out by the leader leash, he allows her to follow awkwardly behind him as they pass the pair of unfortunate, exquisitely made up women.  The one to the left obscenely spread-eagled not unlike his rigging back in the cell, the difference, her head back, her face forced upwards as her mouth’s stretched around a silver tube mounted above her with her vagina also mounted on a similar tube mounted from below.  Her naked body glistens as her obviously enhanced breasts are bound by rows of leather straps forcing them to appear tubular, the dark oval areolas tautly stretched flat to the point of transparency.  Each engorged nipple impaled by a jumbo silver ring, sterling chains in a form of a ‘V’ attached to another ‘O’ ring piercing her elongated clit loops though the rings, a heavy gold weight dangling in front of her chest from each.

       The other woman appears even more painfully bound if possible.  Her feet tiptoeing on her pedestal, her rigidly stretched body’s looped painstakingly symmetrical with silver wire, her flesh bulging from the tight bindings from her neck to her knees as she virtually hangs by her bound fingers and thumbs.  Her breasts also enhanced, the wires crisscross above and below her stud pierced nipples, flattening deeply into her naked breasts across her chest forming rippling mounds as she struggles to breathe.  Similar wires crisscross around and between her thighs, separating the folds of her vulva, exposing her pierced clit, a wire stretching from it downward to loop back up from between her ankles to her outstretched tongue, affixed to a studded piercing in its center.        

       Fascinated in the human artwork, watching their naked bodies quivering, glistening as he hesitates along the walkway while passing by them, he lets his offering get her own eyeful as her classically bound body’s displayed to the open entrance, the group of onlookers milling about the foyer taking an immediate interest.  Glancing back he sees her concern, dread as her head swivels in her collar, briefly locking her eyes with the duller stares of the other two women in their torturous poses.

       One more look back, thinking to himself they obviously deserve their predicaments or they wouldn’t be there, he enters the foyer, again the same typical novel setting.  Handing the end of the leash to the doorman, stepping away as the few become many while surrounding the newest offering, he notices his client off to the side speaking to a not yet middle aged and actually quite attractive woman, immaculately dressed, but somehow his instincts telling him she’s a cunt.  A nod of the man’s head, the woman’s attention also attracted, and he steps over to the pair.

       “What a marvelous petite thing you brought us!”  She nods toward the group in the doorway, the girl in the center.  “I see our outfit accents her body extraordinarily well… And… those titties too!”

       “My gosh!… When do I get her?”  The man nods as he reaches his hand out, a quick, firm shake as he continues to glance at the black leathered girl.  “Is she as young as she looks?”

       “Eighteen… And a few days.”  He quips as he glances back toward her.  “She’ll bring a premium… If you want her.”  His mind already calculating, realizing this is the way to go to get the real cash, he stores the moment in the back of his mind.  A little makeup, some body oil, a sensuous outfit and these perverts will trip over themselves to bid on her.

       “Not to steep… I hope!”  The man adds as he slips his hand from the firm grip.  “Now remember… I’m a good customer!”

       “Oh… I’m sure it will be dear!”  The woman quips… My God… Eighteen year old titties!... And so milky!...  Almost like Ivory… I’m sure after I get a closer, private look… I’m going to be interested in that Trollop!.. I’m just sure you’ll allow me a private inspection… Won’t you dear?”

       “Actually… I’m planning on keeping her a few days.”  He nodes toward the guy, the almost intimidating woman.  Glancing into her eyes, down toward her tits, the supple mounds overflowing her plunging dress line, he glances back up.  A smile on his face, his thoughts are different as he’d just as soon kick her in the ass as look at her, great tits or not.  “Of course… An elegant woman like you?”  He answers with a slight nod while thinking, of course you cunt, your fucking money will spend like all the rest!”

       “How long you planning on keeping her?”  She asks as she nods toward the doorman, waves him over.

       “Don’t know yet I said… I don’t keep a schedule.”  He answers, hiding his irritation as he watches the girl being led through the crowd toward them.  “Couple… Maybe three days.”  Becoming annoyed by the second, the bitch needs to listen or shut the fuck up, he thinks to himself as he adds.  “Then I’ll let everyone know.”

       The leash handed to the woman; she glances over the girl’s glistening body, her milky flesh contrasting with the black leather and lace, the silk stockings and black stilettos.  “Quite pretty… Turn around dear.”  The woman orders in a pleasant, yet somehow also unpleasant tone as her eyes fixate on the gleaming clover clamps burrowing into the puckered nipples.  “Let me get a good look at you in all that splendor!”

       Awkwardly turning, her firm breasts tugged downward by the chained clamps, her knees press together, her inner thighs engulfing much of the third clamp.  A slight drool from the ‘O’ ring, a glistening trail between her outspread breasts, her head remains slightly raised as her chin rests in the curved cup pressing upward beneath her chin.

       Slipping the back of her fingers across the rounded globular mounds, letting the clamps jiggle, the chains dance across her torso, the woman runs her fingers down the outside curve of the corset.  Hour glass form, the black corset fitting like a glove, she drops her fingers lower, brushes the bottom clamp, flicks the puffy tip of the nub protruding from the pressing tongs.

       “Delicious!”  She smiles as she glares into the pale blue eyes staring upward toward the ceiling.  “Good enough to eat!”

       “Don’t’ know about eating her.”  He glances toward the woman; quips as he gives the girl’s right breast a firm squeeze, again puffing out the already swollen nipple.  Fucking dyke, again he thinks as he pictures the two of them naked, munching. “I can tell you that her pussy’s tight though… And that ass will ride a cock too!”  Seeing the disgusted look on the woman’s face, getting satisfaction pissing her off, he’s pleased with himself, the vision now of him being between them, sucking one’s tits while fucking the other.  Actually this long without a fucking cigarette, she’s lucky he doesn’t punch her in the damn face, tie her big ‘ol titties in knots, shut her the fuck up.

       “I don’t think we need to be so graphic… Do we?”  The woman attempts to admonish him.  “We do try to be civil in my house.”

       “Really?”  He nods, glances toward the reddening face of the man, catching the gleam in his eye, obviously enjoying someone having the nerve to stand up toward her.  Not needing much coercing, he adds.  “You don’t own this place then?”

       “Well… Of course I do!”  The indignant tone obvious.  “Why’d you say that?”

        “Then I guess what the fuck’s outside doesn’t count huh?... You know… The bitches strapped naked along the sidewalk?”  He smirks as the other man turns his head, listens.  “Now that’s fucking civil!... Isn’t it?”

       “I… I think you should leave now.”  She scolds, her tone now somehow lacking the sternness, the sense of power.  “Those… Those are… Are what our society is about… The… The erotic….”

       “I leave!”  He cuts her off.  “This young piece of ass you’re so hot for leaves with me!”  He smiles, hand in his pocket, almost crushing the full pack of Marlboros.  “Up to you lady!... And you can forget any chance of getting any of her.”

       “Okay… Okay!”  She whispers, nods toward the others starting to watch, listen.  “It’s… It’s okay.”  She waves toward the crowd.  “Let’s take her in my room… The master bedroom… Okay?”

       “Sure!”  He nods, the leash in his hand.  “Go ahead… We’ll follow!”  His mind in overdrive, he’s enjoying his charade.  He doesn’t like the cunt, but maybe he’ll be sticking his dick in her too, make a deal right there in her bedroom, maybe slap her tits around a little too, to seal the deal.  He’s always wondered what it’d be like to fuck a dyke!

End Part Three 

                 

       

       

              

     

         

       

       

           

           

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    

           

       

       

           

          

         

       

       

        

                  

       

       

TASKFORCE

Part Five

Chapter Eighteen

       Leaning back, he rests against the metal table tilted at an angle and locked,  The flat surface hard, he glances from one girl to the other as his left arm rests bowed across the top of his head while he casually draws on his cigarette.  Both girls now securely mounted, identically bound on each crosstie, the eye masks and ball gags make it hard to tell the one from the other.  Their naturally tanned naked bodies again seem more like sisters, even closer to twins then cousins.  The thin cropped streak of pubic hair on the daughter’s tautly stretched body’s about the only difference, that is except for the glistening gold nipple stud.  Then again, their parents married into the same families, the physical similarities make sense.  Fuck who knows, maybe over there, brothers marry sisters, sisters marry uncles, uncles marry…. Who the fuck knows!”

       Watching the daughter’s spread-eagled body tremble, the agitated expression on her face with the tears still streaking down from beneath her mask as her body arches outward from the post, her hands, feet concealed back behind the pillar, she’s obviously the weak one.  On the other hand, the cousin’s hard to read.  She’s either dangerously conniving, or fucking flat out scary.  Fucks like a champ, antagonizing, manipulating, he wonders if she really is that fucked up, or if she thinks she’s so smart she can fool him into dropping his guard, either way she’s a fucking dangerous cunt, even as young as she is.

       Even now, as tautly stretched as she is, identically bound like her cousin, her face, body shows no signs of distress, almost the opposite, like the bitch is trying to flaunt herself even more.  Little subtle gyrations, moves that cause her tits, her hips to almost seductively sway instead of trembling like her cousin’s, her lithe  body oozes sensuality. Hell of a fuck, too.

       A last draw on the butt, tossing it toward the floor, he again just glances back and forth at the girls as he rises, stretches.  It’s late, might be too late to get a few Coney’s he thinks to himelf.  Glancing at his watch, he belches.  Shit, looks like it’s going to be a bag of white castles, sliders with onions, maybe a sack of fries too.  Stepping between the two girls, a final check on their bindings, he flicks the light switch as he steps through the door, locks it behind him.  Out the building, into the turquoise car, close to the last time it’s fucking being used.  Cranking it over, he listens to the ignition finally respond.  A light puff of smoke out the exhaust, he’s off to get his burgers… and fries.

       Back home, his late night snack consumed; his police radio in the charger but still on, he hears the dispatch for missing persons.  The address familiar, stamped in his mind, he knows the game is on.  Fresh clothes making himself somewhat presentable, he wants to get there in time for the beat cop to take the reports.  Firing up the Vette, leaving the fucking Hyundai at the curb, heading toward the radio run smiling to himself, he’s going to get to meet the family under his conditions, get to know them a little bit, let them know him more then they’d like.

       The upscale tree lined neighborhood quiet, just a couple lights on in the houses here and there; he pulls behind the marked cruisers, parks.   Turning the headlights off, both flipping slowly down and under, seeing the inside door of the main entrance open behind the glass lined screen door, he strolls up the stone walkway curving from the drive up to the house.  A uniform female standing in the living room, clipboard in hand, three civilians in the room, he raps on the metal frame, allows himself in.

       His gold shield on a chain swaying from around his neck, he steps directly toward the officer.  “Whatcha’ got officer.”

       A hesitant look, seeing the shield, she holds her pen steady as she glances at her notes.  “Two… Two females missing, Sir…. Their parents are right here.”  Glancing toward a couple women, a man, she continues.  The mothers and a father… They say the girls should have been home by one o’clock… No contacts, cell phones off, they haven’t heard a thing.”

       Glancing toward the women, he asks.  “Ever done this before?”

       A couple slow nods from side to side, both women sitting on a couch, hands folded, the man stands behind them.  Just like his picture, an asshole, his arms crossed, his look almost of anger as obviously he’s not pleased with the female officer’s services as he stares daggers across the room.

       “How about you… Anything at all to add?... To help with?”  The detective breaks the ice, glancing toward the man, sizing him up.

       “No… no except….”

       “Except what?”  The detective asks, getting into a flow, enjoying the look of panic on the women’s faces, a different look on the man’s.

       “Except … If anybody’s hurting my… Our girls… These fucking Americans!...”

       “Woooo!”  Stopping him in mid sentence, seeing he’s going to be easy to get under his skin, it’s time to antagonize him, and them, time to put on the insulted look.  “Just to let you know… I’m American… I’ve bled for this country…”

       Being cut off himself, the man continues.  “It’s… I mean we’re being accused of making a living and now shit’s happening… And someone’s fucking with the wrong people.

       The uniformed female officer visibly nervous, the women as upset as they are about the girl’s disappearances still appearing somewhat intimidating, the detective can’t help fueling the fire.  “Listen… This officer is here to take your report… To help… I’m her superior… Now… Let’s get this part done without any more off the wall comments.”  Shaking his head, glancing toward the young officer, her tits not bad, even under the vest protector, he gives her a subtle wink as he adds.  “She’s only trying to help.”  Grabbing the clipboard, her pen, he stares at the women.  “Now… I see we have their ages… General descriptions… Last seen in a black SUV.”  Again smiling toward the officer, actually toward her chest, he adds.  Very good… So far… Here’s the license number.”  Glancing up, his eyes locking with the man’s, he asks.  “Any discernable differences, tattoos… Some…”

       “What?... What you mean?... No of course not… What you think these girls are?... Tramps?”

       “Excuse me… There’s a checklist for everything I’m asking… And it doesn’t matter what I think they are… Does it?”  The detective asserts, watching for their reactions, knowing he’s walking the line on pissing them off.  Seeing the redness in the women’s faces, the one without her husband at home, probably not even in the states, is actually pretty damn good looking.  Can’t be more then mid thirties, nice tits under that cotton night robe partially open at the top; Damn, he sees where her daughter gets her rack.  Distracted, he thinks for a moment before adding.  “Now any jewelry… Piercings… Things like that?”

       “What the Hell does that matter?... No!… No piercings… No jewelry!”  The man grunts, leans foreword between the two women on the couch while shaking his head.

       Glancing toward the women, noticing a look on the one, the detective pries.  “Nothing?... You sure neither has done anything at all to their bodies?... No tattoos… No piercings at all… Anywhere on their bodies… Maybe concealed even?”

       Watching the man’s face glow from the corner of his eyes, starring directly toward the woman with the expression on her face, he adds.  “Where… What?”

       “She… Althea has a… A piercing…”

       “Althea?... She your daughter?”

       “Yes… Yes and his!”  She nods, glances toward the man, his flushing face then glancing toward the woman beside her.  “Ariel’s our niece… Her daughter.”

          Thinking of the gold nipple stud, the firm rack he’d just played with a few hours ago, he feels the tingling in his stomach, the excitement of prying silly ass embarrassing family secrets from these assholes, like a nipple stud’s a big deal.

       “A piercing huh?”  He quips as he flips a page, sketches an almost stick figure on a blank edge.  “Where?”

       “Where?”  The woman asks as she again glances at her angry husband.

       “I need to know for the diagram… Where’s her piercing… Her ears… Nose… Her cheek?... Her lip?... Where?”  Deliberately rattling off different areas, waiting for her answer like pulling teeth, he can’t wait to jump on it, obviously knowing exactly where it is.

       “Her… Her breast.”  She almost whispers, her hand reflexively pressing across her left side near her shoulder.

       “Her… What?”  He loudly asks, glancing toward the blushing female officer, probably to young for this job, but getting an education on interrogating.  “Did you say breast?” He adds again in an overly loud tone as he glances toward the man, his reddening face.  “Oh… I guess dad didn’t know.”  Again glancing down toward the clipboard, holding back his chuckle, knowing the guy’s fucking livid, he presses on, glances toward the woman.  “Where at on her breast?”

       What?... Where?”

       “Yes… For the diagram Mam…  Exactly where is the piercing?”  He asks as he flips the clipboard toward her, just for a moment, flips it back.

       “On… On her… Her nipple… Of course!”

       “Did you say nipple Mam?... On her nipple?”  He asks, his voice almost cracking while he feels his ribs aching as he forces himself to maintain a straight face, his shoulder deliberately bumping against the female officer’s.  “Did you mean in her nipple?”

       The sounds of the man grunting with anger, the almost quietness of the seated women, he can’t help continuing, setting her up.  “Which?”

       “Which… What?”

       “No… No… Not wristwatch… Mam… Which breast… Which nipple?... Not wrist watch… Which nipple is pierced?... For the report!”

       Head tilted forward as his eyes remain glued to the clipboard, struggling mightily to keep the tears from dripping across his cheeks, he senses, feels the discomfort of the officer next to him as she even turns away, glances toward the open door.

       “The… The left… I think… Maybe the right… Okay?”

       “Please?... Oh… Yes Mam…  It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you… Yes Mam!”  He politely answers, proud as Hell with his Don Knotts impersonation of a Mayberry cop, knowing the rooms heated up another twenty degrees.  “Now!”  Almost having to piss, biting his lip, he finally gets his next question out.  “For the report… Is she wearing any identifiable jewelry in her piercing of her nipple on her left… Or right breast?... Just for the report Mam.”

       “Jesus fucking Christ!”  The red faced man practically screams as his shoulders lurches above the back of the couch.  “What the Hell does any of this have to do with my Goddamn daughter missing?... Goddamnit!!”

       “Sir!”  The detective admonishes… Settle down… I’ll… I’ll explain if you really need to know.”  Great, the asshole’s taking it hook, line and sinker, he thinks to himself, building for the grand finale, glancing straight toward the mothers.  “The reason is… In case of identification purposes if… If we find her dead!”

       The women’s faces ashen, the man’s ready to explode, a vein zigzags visibly across his forehead.  Handing the clipboard back to the female officer, the detective adds.  “Finish this up… Find out what kind of nipple jewelry… Get it turned in.”  Turning toward the door, he again nods toward the officer.  “And see if there’s anything else you can help them with….Okay?”

       The screen door slamming behind him, heading for his corvette, he continues to bite his lip, the look on the female officer’s face priceless as he leaves her with the parents.  Driving toward the club, the abandoned SUV, sometimes it’s really fun being a cop, and, he’s going to have to look up that officer, buy her a drink, she’ll need it.  Damn, might even lick her pussy too.

       A twenty minute drive, pulling past the club, he sees the SUV in all its glory, alone in the lot.  Figuring it’ll be teletyped and broadcast as soon as the female officer finishes assisting the distraught parents, without some help, the fucking car probably won’t be found for another week.  But, at least they picked the right club for him, they’re too fucking cheap here to have lot cameras, it’s good to know your businesses.  A leisurely drive home, maybe a few hours sleep with the police radio on just in case the car’s found like it should be and everything’s going like clockwork.

Chapter Nineteen

       A couple, three hours, he can’t believe it, a dispatch to the club, a reported missing vehicle located.  Holy shit batman, a cop that wasn’t asleep on the night shift!  Jumping off the couch, in his car, a brief few minutes he’s pulling onto the lot, the yellow tape surrounding the SUV.  A couple marked cruisers, a supervisor; he casually steps from the Vette, walks toward the SUV.  “This the car?”  He asks, the uniformed officer turning to face him, noticing the gold shield swaying from the chain.

       “Yes Sir!... Why?”

       Glancing toward the supervisor, a minority promoted Sergeant, stepping toward the SUV, he lifts the tape.  “I’m working the missing persons… Inventory it yet?”

       “No… No… Not yet.”  She answers, stepping next to the tape, placing her hand on it, blocking him.

       “Haven’t looked for their purses, personal property?... Anything?”  He asks, more of a scolding… The damn doors locked?”

       “No… No Sir!”

       “These girls are missing… The two that were in this car…  Shouldn’t we take some initiative?... Trying to find something to find them?... You know the first twenty-four hours are critical… Don’t you?... Fuck Sergeant… After that they could be dead or something!”

       “Wha… What?... Yes… Yes Sir!”

       “Sergeant!”  Staring her down, easily intimidating her, he glances toward the SUV.  “What should we do?” 

             Flipping the rear door open, she begins searching, glancing under the seat, behind it.

       “Need some help?”  He asks, holding back a grin as he opens the front driver’s door.  “I’ll check under this seat.”

       Front, back, flipping the seats forward, checking under the visors, hands everywhere, the car’s empty, nothing.  Stepping away, glancing back towards her, he suggests.  “Might as well get a wrecker… Tow it in for processing.”

       Hopping in his Vette, off to the warehouse, he grins as he turns on his radio, Louie Armstrong’s ‘What A Wonderful World’ being rasped out in all the glory of the gravely voice of the greatest trumpeter ever.  Fighting an urge to smoke in his classic to the classic, he’ll wait until he gets with the girls.  Glancing in his rear view mirror between shifting through the gears and tires squealing over the asphalt, back toward the distancing lot, he’s satisfied with the knowledge that if there was the slightest chance of any trace left in the SUV; he’s taken care of his DNA being suspected.  Damn, affirmative action’s great!  It works for everybody!

       Thinking of the girls, more of the parents, especially the asshole, he knows he’ll have a private one on one with him; he’ll make sure of that when the time’s right.  On the lighter side, that big tittied milf sister-in-law of his can use some consoling, and not too far off in the future.  Fuck it, slipping a Marlboro in his mouth, flipping in the pristine lighter beside the radio in the dash; it’s time for a fucking smoke before the donut shop.  After all, its morning, the sun’s rising in the cloudless skies of blue.  Yes, what a wonderful fucking world it is, Satchmo.

End Part Five        

         

       

       

       

          

           

       

       

TASKFORCE

Part Six

Chapter Twenty

       One busy fucking off day.  Contacting the bitch, making a trip to her mansion, he’s intrigued with the arrangements she’s offering.  Seems like the dyke’s taking a liking to someone with a line to an endless supply of product for her white slavery market, especially after seeing the photos of his latest two girls.  Hell, he might even convert her yet into fucking a real man.  Her apparently having access to more outlets then fucking drop in centers, he can even have a say as to where the two girls are sent, cash ain’t too bad either.

       It looks like Althea and Ariel are going to be short timers as his guests at the warehouse, that’s if he decides to seal the deal; they’ll be in Europe within forty-eight hours.  As a condition from him of their new found partnership, they’ll be kept at one of her French Chateaus in the wine vineyards, a supposedly exclusive and secure compound for some of her more prominent clients.  Still being fifty percent his chattel, he’ll even be visiting them when he finds the time.  That’s if he wants too, always did like the idea of traveling.

       Finishing a Marlboro as he’s driving back, next stop today the Chief’s office, he can just picture the pair of the girls naked, submissive, fucking the Chateaus’ guests among other duties, then again, with a wine vineyard, he amusingly pictures those big round vats with the girls purple feet stomping the grapes.  Damn, he can just imagine their tight little asses splashing around in all that juice, their titties, everything soaking wet with purple slush, damn, he can just imagine licking them off with his tongue, fucking right!

       Lighting another cigarette, a couple quick drags as he senses his dick getting hard just fantasizing, he remembers the pillars would to be empty again soon as he thinks to himself, probably a good thing.  Discussing with her just what she needed to know about him during their negotiations, one issue makes sense, a bigger, more excluded location for his interrogations is probably the right move, especially when he broadens the scope of his ‘detainees’.  Hell yea, it’s time to get out of the slums; get serious with a profitable business venture while doing a public service.  Everybody wins, almost; at least the streets get cleaned up.

       Heading for the Chief’s office, the assholes submitting a formal complaint on the officers taking the missing reports, he can’t figure out why the Hell he’s involved, what the fuck did that female officer do after he left to piss those people off?  Oh, well, doesn’t matter, he thinks, he’ll handle the Chief; after all, it’s a Goddamn off day!  Nobody deserves an ass chewing on their frigging day off.

       Pulling into the parking lot, using the Captain’s, the District Commanding Officer’s parking spot, that’ll certainly piss him off but who gives a shit, Chief outranks Captain, so does Chief’s bagman.  Besides, nobody has the balls to fuck with his Vette!  Punching in the code to the rear entrance of the secure building, he steps into the mingling group of uniforms as they’re preparing for roll call.  Watching them beginning to line up for inspection, hands on their gun belts, waiting for the command to unholster and unload, he remembers the good old days as he glances up toward the ceiling above their heads.  The half dozen dime sized remnants of roll calls of days gone by, Christ; there was more of a chance taking a slug from some fucking rookie cop’s gun going off then getting nailed out on the street.

       Stepping quickly by, a smirk at the irritated uniformed sergeant glaring back at him waiting for the line to form, he heads for the elevator to take him to the second floor, to the land of the brass, the sanctuary of the Chiefs office above the downtown district police station.  As the elevator door slowly closes, he hears the “Dress right dress… Present arms!” of the sergeant.  The doors closing together, slowly beginning its trip upward, again he smiles to himself thinking how ironic it is the fucking Chief’s chair is directly above roll call, the dozen or so nine millimeters right now pointing straight up, right smack at his ass!  

       Stepping off, across the hall into the receptionist’s domain, he smiles at her smirk, her slowly nodding head.

       “What!”

       “Nipple Jewelry huh?”  She scoffs, unable to hide her grin.

       “You reading the Chief’s secret shit again?”  He asks, feinting surprise.

       “That poor girl was in there for at least an hour trying to explain your actions to the Chief, Mister!”   She grins, again shaking her head.  “She didn’t know where to begin… I think the crotch in her uniform was wet when she left!”

       “So?... What happened?”

         “Whata’ you think, you asshole… He played Laurel to your Hardy!”  She frowns, shakes her head.  “Poor girl!... You should be ashamed of yourself… Wristwatch?... Dead body?... Damn, he had her stuttering, trying to mimic how you interviewed those poor people!... You talk about flustered!... You should have seen her explaining that stick person drawing.”

       Hitting the buzzer, she snaps into the intercom.  “Chief… Heeeeee’s… Here!”  Glancing up, nodding toward the door, she feints being serious herself.  “The Chief will see you now… Detective!”

       ‘Into the valley of death, so rode the four hundred!’  The Errol Flynn version, he thinks to himself of the old flick as he opens the door, strolls into the office, shuts the door behind him as he bows.  “Your Excellency!"

       “Fuck that!... Detective.”  The Chief scowls from behind the desk, in his chair, directly above the roll call going on beneath him, one floor down.  Standing, frowning with the complaints in his fist, he stares at the forms, looks up with all seriousness.  “Address me in the proper manner Detective…. Address me as…… As you know……… As……. God!”

       Tossing the papers on the desk, shaking his head, the Chief sits back down unable to hold back his grin.  “Have a fucking seat you idiot!”

       “That’s employee harassment Sir!”  Ten G’s now and I won’t make a formal complaint!”

       “Ain’t going to happen mister!”  The Chief shakes his head.

       “Okay… Okay… Final offer… A blowjob… From your secretary out there!”

       “Fuck… You’ve already had that!”

       “Sure, but not by executive order!”  Tilting his head, glancing toward the door, he adds.  “Really Chief, when I leave, tell her she’s ordered to give me head!”

       Again glancing at the complaint, trying to ignore the bullshit, the Chief bites his lip not to grin, shakes his head as he fights back a tear.  “Is this shit all real… I mean it fucking sounds like the goddamn Keystone Cops!”  Glancing up, holding the forms up in the air, he leans back into the chair.  “Then… Then after all that shit you put those people through, you left that poor cunt to be eaten by the wolves?”

       “Now that is employee harassment… And probably sexual too!”  The detective grins, continues.  “Did… Did she really piss her pants in here?”

       “She tell you that?”  The Chief leans forward, glances toward the door himself.

       “Yes Sir… She certainly did… Yep!”

       Flipping the switch, he sternly speaks into the intercom.  “In here… Now!”

       The door opening, the secretary stepping in like she doesn’t want to be bothered, she closes it behind her.

       “Did you tell the detective here that the female officer had a problem with her pants this afternoon?”

        Glancing toward the detective with a frown, back at the Chief, she nods.  “I might have mentioned it.”

       “That’s it… That’s harassment… Or something…You have to be reprimanded!”   The Chief scowls.

       “Reprimanded?...  What… For talking to this fucking asshole?”  She scoffs.

       “Chief… Your Holyness!”  The detective leans forward.  “That’s fucking harassment from that bitch… Ain’t it?”

       “Yea… Yea I think you’re right!”  Glancing at him, back at her, he orders.  “Yes… He’s right, I have to agree!... But okay… Instead of a reprimand… Just a blowjob… Okay?”  The Chief again glancing from one to the other amidst the confusion, he adds.  “I mean for him… He gets the blowjob… From you!”

       Staring at the Chief, toward the detective, she glaringly answers.   “Yes Sir… That seems fair enough to me… Certainly I’ll do it!...  I’ll blow you both, even… That’s if you’ve got the balls to stick your cocks in my mouth!… Yes Sirs!!!”

       Holding his knees together, glancing toward the Chief, he shrugs.  “Never mind, I’ll consider that an apology Chief!”

       A smile as she leans over him, tapping his leg close to his crotch with her open hand, she just nods.  “Good boy!”  Stepping back out the door, she shuts it behind her.  “Fucking children!”

       “Damn… She sounded almost serious!” The detective leans forward, glances at the door.

       “Seems?”  The Chief answers.  “She’s not going down on me for awhile… You can believe that mister!”  Leaning back, tossing the papers on the desk, a sense of seriousness finally comes across.  “Okay just the Reader’s Digest version… What’s up with the investigation?”

       “Coming along smoothly… All bases covered… Even a great business proposition that I’ll explain to you later… Hope you like wine… And traveling.”  Getting up, a grin, he continues.  “That girl, the cop… She’s okay… I’ll look her up and tell her personally that she’s getting a letter of commendation directly from you for her outstanding report writing… And I’ll write it too… If that’s okay with you.”

       “Sure… Go ahead… Just be your articulate self… But spell my name right this time when you sign it for Christ’s sake… Okay?... Now… Anything else?”

       Turning toward the door, a hesitation, he answers.  “Oh… Yeah… There’s this asshole assigned to the police impounding lot I’ve been meaning to talk to you about!”

Chapter Twenty-one

       Back to the warehouse, to the girls.  Unlocking the door and casually flicking on the light, he can see their naked bodies straining, even a bit of a pool of urine beneath Althea’s legs on the floor.  The eye masks still in place, the ball gags are still pressed deeply in their mouths.  Stepping past Ariel, feeling her twitch as he lets the fingertips of his free hand roam across the valley between her glistening breasts, his forefinger flicking across the nub of her right nipple, she doesn’t seem so cocky.  The hours of tight bondage, their bodies taut against the pillars seems to do that to all the girls.  The ball gags covered with drool, he steps in front of Althea.

       Dropping his athletic beg on the floor, the top already zipped open, he begins.  A simple Japanese clover clamp, silver, gleaming under the light, he squeezes it, watches its tongs open, lets it shut, adjusts it again, squeezes again.  Finally satisfied with the tension, spreading it open one more time, he grips her right areola between his thumbnail and fingernail, forces her nipple to swell.   Hearing her already whimpering, feeling her breast quivering, he slips the spread tongs across the bulging nub.  Centering it, making sure the clamps lined up to grip deeply onto, into the meaty nipple, he releases the clamp.

       “Oomph… Oomph!”  Her grunts audible as saliva sways, drips from her ball gag, he watches the gleaming metal jiggling from her trembling breast.  Mounted just right, firm and deep, actually digging into a portion of her areola, he thinks to himself how women’s breasts and clover clamps were made for one another, actually not very imaginative, yet when applied properly, fucking erotic as Hell.  Fuck, there’s even women who get off, fantasize about their nipples being clamped.  There’re even women reading erotic stories on the internet, imagining, even clamping their nipples right now. “Agggghhh!”  Listening to her whining, apparently she’s not in that mix.

       Another clamp in hand, manipulating the other nipple, giving her time to adjust to the pain of the first, yet contemplate the pain of the second, he’s infatuated with the gyrations, the tremors of her naked body scraping back and forth across the crosstie.  And, her nipple feels pretty fucking good too while he plays with it.  Even her pathetic whimpering seems sensual and raw, almost hoarse; obviously she’s been vocal through her ball gag while he was gone.  Centering, releasing that clamp, he steps back a step as her body jerks, she squeals.

       “Aaaggghhh!... Oomph!”  More bitching, slobbering, her breasts bouncing, her thick areolas, nipples jiggling under the firm mountings of the matching clamps, he watches the shinning metal gleam under the bare ceiling light.

       Into the bag, one more clamp.  Again not very original, but this girl’s giving a classic response to having sensitive nipples.  Now to find out just how sensitive her clit is.  Kneeling, spreading her already damp labium, finding the nub of her clitoris, glancing over toward Ariel, he’s amazed at how incredible the resemblances of their cunts are, almost like they were fucking twins.  Feeling Althea’s quivering thighs, actually seeing the rippling of her bare flesh, he glances upward, her head twisting against the front of the post as she grunts, obviously knowing, fearing what he’s about to do.

       Sliding the clamp back and forth across her pubic mound, letting a prong glide across the baby smooth folds of her labia, he again allows for her to adjust to the pain of the nipple clamps, loathe the anticipation of what’s about to happen between her spread, unprotected thighs.  The nub protruding between his fingertip and thumb, feeling it pulse with each pounding heartbeat, he lets the metal tip press into the swelling nub as he presses his thumb and finger even tighter, the nails indenting the sensitive flesh.  Adjusting, centering, spreading the clamp as wide as he can, firmly twisting his fingernail, thumbnail into the swollen clit, he releases the clamp.

       “Aaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!!”  One long guttural scream as her head pounds back against the post.  Her body in spasms, the clover clamps flailing across her shaking breasts, her twisting nipples taut in the jerking metal, the third clamp jaunts outward from between her quivering thighs as a yellow spurt of urine streaks down her legs, splashes between her feet, her curled toes.

       Leaning back, watching the gleaming clamp dance off her engorged clit, he waits for her body to adjust to the pain, for her tensing muscles, tendons in both her arms, and legs to relax.  Her stomach rippling, her navel flexes in and out with each rasping breath.  Damn, he realizes her clit’s pretty fucking sensitive too.

       Standing, watching her naked, glistening body becoming less animated, more rigid over the course of the next couple minutes, he scans the clamps, their deep mountings.  Perfect, the thickness of the tanned nipples swelling between the gleaming metal, the bulge of the nub of her clit glistening between the compressed tips of the flattened ends of the tongs, even her whimpers are subsiding as her taut body presses back against the wooden post, her fists clenching, spreading, clenching over and over.  Reaching into his shirt pocket, the final smoke in the pack, he’ll have to start buying more then one or two fucking packs at a time he annoyingly thinks to himself as he crushes the cellophane covered container, tosses it toward the wall.  Lighting the Marlboro, a couple deep drags, he feels his cock hardening at the sight of her trembling in pain, the dancing clover clamps.  Glancing toward Ariel, another relaxing draw on the Marlboro, he glances back, wondering if her cunt’s going to be as tight as her cousin’s.  Another quicker, raspier couple puffs, flicking the cigarette down, crushing it below the sole of his twisting shoe, he turns away. 

       Now for Ariel.  Reaching into the satchel, out with a Wartenberg wheel, a slightly altered wheel, the finely honed tips of each needle glistening as he steps in front of her, stares toward her pierced breast.  Barely letting just one sparkling tip initially touch the gold stud, almost carefully aligning it then slowly gliding the gleaming stainless circle of needles back and forth across the brilliant gold metal impaling her nipple, he watches her body squirm, twitch, jerk as the razor sharp tip just barely touches, then lightly rolls, then presses firmly enough to leave a tight row of pin pricks across the edges of her nipple, areola, onto the outer globe of her twitching breast.  “Ummmmph!”

       Slowly back and forth, up and down, sideways, over, across the nub, several small trails crisscross her thrust out breast cupped in the palm of his free hand.  Then, holding the wheel motionless but against the tiny ball on the outside of the stud, he incredulously watches her breast to appear to press ever so slowly outward, the flesh of her nipple pressing into the tip of the needle as miniscule driblets of blood trace across her firm mound of flesh.  “Aaahhhh!”

       Listening carefully, not sure the whimper’s really a whimper, he rolls the wheel again, pushes inward, directly into the surface of her nipple between the tiny globes on both sides of the stud.  “Oooohhhh!”  Again, it’s not a whimper; more of a sigh as the pinpricks leave red traces across her areola before he momentarily hesitates, shakes his head slowly back and forth.  Reaching down, spreading her labium with his thumb and finger with his free hand, he glides the wheel down between her breasts, along the trail of saliva drooling from the mouth gag, over the arch of her ribcage into the hollowing of her flexing stomach.

       Back and forth across her quivering navel, the sighs still audible, definitely not painful responses, he rolls the wheel across her pubic mound, the freshly spouting nubs of the recently shaven mound.  Her thighs visibly parting, even in the strenuous bindings, her quivering hips thrust forward as the Wartenberg wheel roles partially into her parted slit.

       Holy fuck!  The bitch is actually getting off, he realizes as he presses the rolling needles across the visible nub of her engorging clit.  “Oooooooohhhh!... Ooooohhhh!!”  More rasping sighs as the wheel’s rolled back and forth in crisscrossing motions.  Her head tilting forward, she almost lustfully grunts as she parts her twitching hips, her vagina noticeably quivering between her flexing thighs.  Back between her spread legs, a little harsher, across the puffy folds of her labia, back and forth across the still swelling clit, he watches her abs ripple, her flattened stomach hollowing even deeper as her ribs glisten, leaving their defined images beneath her taut flesh. “Uuummpphhh!!”  The flexing of her abs, her rippling stomach, her quivering thighs, her breathing becoming raspier, he lowers, pulls the instrument back away.  

       Lowering the prickling wheel, the shinning metal now a pinkish tint over much of the needles, he meditates, glances back at the jiggling trio of clamps on the whimpering Althea, back to the moaning, on the verge of climaxing, Ariel.  So much alike, yet so much different, and so much more, in store for a new life in the vineyards of France where they’ll be just a few short hours from Paris and the debauchery of a segment of its population that frequents the isolated Chateau’s complex.  Glancing back and forth, taking a breather, comparing the identical, yet opposite cousins, the way they accept pain, he’s sure of his decision.

       A comfortable plane flight away for him, when he takes a break now and then to check on the wine, and his silent partnership share of the Chateau, supplying a number of its women, one thing’s for certain, Ariel’s definitely in his future.  Reaching in his shirt pocket, glancing toward the rumpled empty cigarette pack across the floor, he shakes his head.  Fuck, out of smokes.  Debating removing Althea’s clamps before leaving for the towel head’s convenient store a mile down the street give or take, deciding to leave the clamps on, he heads for the door, turns off the light.  The whimpering bitch will probably piss herself when he comes back in a half-hour or so and jerks them off her nipples and clit.  They should be good and sore by then, and sensitive.

       Hesitating locking the door as she continues to whine, he shakes his head back and forth, pissed at himself for being so caring, compassionate.  Thinking oh well, what the fuck, flicking the light back on, stepping in front of her, gripping both nipple clamps, a firm squeeze of both and a quick jerk, her nipples stretch with the clamps as she screams through the gag.  “Aaaaaaggghhh!”  Without a respite, gripping the clit clamp, jerking, spreading it, she screams again as her naked body convulses.  “Aaaaaaaagggghhhh!!”  Dropping the clamps in the gym bag, he heads for the door, for a fresh pack of Marlboros, maybe a Bud or two, his good deed for the day done.

End Part Six  

               

              

        

       

       

        

       

           

       

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                  

       

TASKFORCE

Part Eight

Chapter Twenty-Five

       Leaving the chamber, the slowly revolving wheel with its naked, bowed back female cargo, first he adjusts the lever to sporadically deliver its jolting electrical charge.  Now she may complete several rotations without a jolt, then again maybe back to back, and to back on consecutive rotations.  Physically just a little less stressful with the current passing through her pinned, banded breasts not as often, mentally it’s a whole different story, she never knows, just frantically anticipates the worst.  A couple hours, maybe a little more, she should be getting into the right frame of mind for an interrogation about the whereabouts of her husband, but then again if not, who gives a fuck right now, it’s fun watching her body respond to the electrode’s.

       Just entering the hallway, a servant approaching him, he’s asked to see his new partner upstairs in the foyer.  A flight of stairs, another hallway and he’s in the familiar area of the first visit just days before.  The woman alone, she dismisses the servant, leaving just the two of them to themselves as he incredulously glances her over.

         Perfectly made up, her shinning hair combed severely back to form into a tight bun, she stands by the well stocked bar, refreshment in hand.  A sheer graphite toned chiffon nightgown, plunging neckline to the navel, slits up both thighs, her sensuous tanned silhouette’s highlighted by the room’s incandescent wall lighting behind her.  At least six inch stilettos, her calves, thighs ripple as she turns, faces toward him.    

       “See something you like?”  She asks, her eyes piercing, her red lipstick punctuating her full lips.  Breasts firm but swaying, virtually exposed, her dark eyes darting toward him, back toward the various bottles, then toward a monitor in an open wall closet shelf, she nearly whispers.  “Something you want?... Really like to have?”  She adds as she steps toward him, her half drained refreshment cupped in both hands, her moist lips glistening from a couple sips of the swirling contents as she flirtatiously puckers her lips, rolls the tip of her tongue back and forth across them while lowering her eyes toward his crotch.

       Glancing toward the monitor, a sharp image on the forty-two inch screen of the abducted mom slowly revolving, crystal clear even through the steamy background, he nods, shrugs.  “How long you been watching?”

       “Oh… I don’t know… Maybe the whole thing… Maybe while you penetrated every orifice… It was all so fast, I guess you had a problem pacing yourself.”  She smiles as she steps even closer.  “Maybe every quick thrust of that cock of yours!.. What is it Nine… Ten inches?”

       Glancing down toward his crotch, again back at her with a stoic expression, he answers.  “Don’t know… Never measured it… But… You know, you should have an idea, from the first time I was here, remember?”  Watching her eyes, her expression, he adds.  “All I do know is… It’s always a tight fit… Except when it was in your mouth that first night here.”

       A momentary glare, another nod downward, she almost rasps.  “Yes… To close the deal on my new girl you brought… You drove a hard bargain… You were such an asshole that night… You know that, don’t you?”

       “Yeh!”  He answers as he reaches, takes the glass from her hand, chugs the last remaining liquid.  “Sounds just like me.”  He smirks as he shakes his head with a frown.  Tastes like fucking hell, must be cheap shit, he thinks to himself as he continues to spar, starring straight into her piercing clear eyes, the eyeliner, makeup perfectly highlighting the coldness of the window to her soul.  “And you were obviously a cocksucker!... Right?... Now… Know how to make a screwdriver?”

       Another brief stare, a glare even, she half smirks as she turns toward the bar while slowly shaking her head back and forth, momentarily at a loss for words, obviously not use to being around such a condescending, yet so fucking self assured asshole.  “Of course… Wouldn’t you know that’s the kind of drink someone with your cultural background would want?”  She fights back with her insults.  “Not a fine wine, like a Petrus you just gulped down like a peasant.”  She scolds as she lifts the empty wine glass.  “Or God forbid a Romanee Conti!”  She adds as she points to another of her expensive, but to her quite affordable collection.  “How about… Now let’s see… How would you ask me?... Let’s think real hard!”  She scornfully smirks, tilts her head, a hand on her thrust out hip as her shoulders arch back exposing the near perfect globular mounds barely concealed by the stretching, sheer gown.  In a nearly comical mimic, she mutters.  “Got a fucking orange juice and vodka… Bitch!”  Another glare, proud of her insult to drop him down a peg, she waits for his reaction, her eyes now doing the staring back into his, and his irritating who gives a fuck expression.

       A shrug, stepping closer to her, he smirks.  “That stuff you just drank any different then some Mogan David cheap shit?... You could save some of your money… Tastes the same to me.”

       “You are disgusting!”  She hisses as she reaches across the bar for anything resembling vodka.  “I guess you want ice too?”

       Stepping even closer, almost against her as she’s facing the bar, he answers.  “Actually… I was thinking more of something else… Like… How about a grudge fuck later!”

       “What?”  She briskly turns, their faces just inches apart, her breasts swaying, the left nipple flipping out above the plunging hemline, tantalizingly brushing across his shirt.  “A… A what?”

       “That’s when two people who don’t like each other… Actually if more like us… Loathe each other…”

       “I know!... I mean… I know what a grudge fuck is, asshole!”  She scowls as their eyes lock, the palm of her hand flattening against, shoving her breast back beneath the sheer material.  “How dare…”

       Gripping her waist, pulling her toward him, he feels her breasts pressing against his chest as he grips her wrist with his other hand, jerks it away from her gown.  Pressing his lips against hers, pulling her closer with his hand slipping down across her buttocks, he releases her wrist, grips the fullness of her left breast as he feels her lips parting, her tongue hesitantly pressing against his.  Feeling her feigning a struggle, a weak struggle at best, the thought passes though his mind he’s finally going to get his chance to fuck a dyke!... A good looking one at that, even if she is a bitch!

       Pushing her against the side of the bar, feeling her teeth more then nibbling on his lower lip, he twists his hand into a fist, his gripping fingers digging into her bared breast.  Shoving, bending her flat across the bar on her back, between the expensive bottles of wine, the liquor rattling, clanking together, he shoves his thighs against hers, reaches up, cups her wrists, drags them up over her head.

       Staring into her eyes, feeling her thighs spreading apart on their own, her bared breasts thrusting upwards, the puckering nipples quivering just below his face, he smiles at her reaction, her obvious anticipation, then pulls his head back.  Their lips parting as she grunts, arches her back, cranes her neck, her face following his with her eyes closed, she’s obviously ready to fuck, right here on the liquor bar.  Her eyes opening, almost glazing, her lips parting as her breasts spread apart, her pubic mound grinding against his, her body trembles as he lifts back, releases her wrists.  “You going to make me that screwdriver now?”  Lifting her up from the bar, jerking her gown closed across her swaying breasts, taking a step back he thinks to himself that her look could flat out fucking kill.

       Obviously somewhat dumbfounded, then pissed, her flesh glistens, turns a crimson shade as she glares, squints at him, momentarily speechless, until. “You motherfucker!… You… You illiterate bastard!”  Grabbing a bottle off the bar, he ducks as it sails past his head, smashes across the doorframe.

       “That’s not a screwdriver… Is it?”  He smirks after he ducks, then lunges toward her, flattens her across the carpeted floor as he lands on top.  Again stretching her arms above her head, sliding his legs between hers, forcing her hips apart, he feels her body arching upwards against his, her breasts flattening, spreading beneath him.  Her head flipping back and forth as he presses his face against hers, the grunts loud, angry, now she’s perfect for that grudge fuck!

       Hearing the door opening behind them, jerking his head back and to the side, he sees a couple servants entering the doorway, hesitating.  “What the fuck you want?”  He scowls, pissed at their uncalled for rudeness.  “No fucking body called for you assholes.” Turning his attention back to her, her still flushed face, he adds.  “Right?”… Right… Tell ‘em or… ”

       Glaring at him, toward the servants, her chest heaving against his, she rasps.  “Get the fuck out!”  Staring back into his eyes, back toward them, she again rasps.  “Out… Out now!... I’m okay… I’ve got him under control!... I said get out… Now!”     

         A deep breath, staring into her piercing eyes, he hears the door shutting behind them as he forces her legs a little wider apart.  “Under control huh?”  He smiles as he stretches her arms even higher and wider by her wrists.  Rising himself slightly upward, her breasts flattening toward her sides, he glances down toward her hardening nipples, her firm melons glistening beneath his chest as he feels his cock pulsing in his trousers. 

       “You’re an animal!...  An insane animal you bastard… Now!... You finally going to fuck me now or just take a nap?”  She almost whispers as she stares into his eyes, her body perspiring under his, their scents mixing as her body relaxes back into her spread-eagled position on the thick carpet.

       Kneeling up onto his knees, standing, he watches her eyes again squint, her evil stare return as her body noticeably tenses.  “Wooo!”  He smiles.  “Just getting out of these clothes!… Slip that useless gown off too unless you want it ripped off!”

       Her expression changing, a fake girlish pout, she whispers.  “Ohh my!… What if I don’t want too?… What else you going to do?... Punish me?”

       Pants on the floor, shirt slipped over his head, shoes kicked off, he kneels back down between her spread legs, glances toward the monitor, shakes his head.  “Well then, I guess I’ll just go back down there and fuck her instead!”

       Another frown, she rasps.  “You are a fucking asshole!”  Turning her head, now really pouting, she jerks at her gown, tugs it up across her shoulders, her head.  “Now… Happy jerk?”

       Looking down across her naked body, incredible, spread out, the gown tugged up, disheveled under her head, partially covering her arms, he is, more then happy.  This rich dyke, a Dominatrix, ruthless, always under control is now pouting like a schoolgirl, but with a strippers body, and she’s wanting his cock, submitting, even trying to act sexy.  Fuck, goddamn, this really could get interesting.

       Leaning over her, feeling his cock sway, slip between her thighs as he practically lies across her, the head of his shaft slapping across her labium, the moist sensitive lips parting as his thickening cock finds the groove, slips partially inward, gently scrapes across the nub of her swelling clit.  Locking his eyes with hers, her chest being arched upwards toward his as he penetrates the moist orifice with just the swelling head’s tip, her clit pressed inward under it, she again moans.  Hesitating, slowly, gently sliding in another couple inches, she grunts louder as her body twitches, her hips scrapping against the thick carpet.  Watching her reflexively lick her lips, her eyes now just a tad milky, fixed, he slips in another inch or so, lifts his hips, presses his swollen shaft upward against her pubic bone, compressing her thickening clit, lifting her upward causing another responsive moan.  The feel of her thrusting vagina firm and tight, her breasts pressing, scraping across his chest, the hardened nipples almost massaging, invigorating, he enjoys drawing her sexual responses out; forcing her to respond to a man’s cock mounting her, impaling her.

       Lowering his head, letting his lips brush across her ear, his tongue gently flicks across her earlobe as he hears her sigh, smells the perfume traced across her neck.  A nibble of her ear as he slides another couple inches inward, feeling the moist, glove like grip of her vagina walls pulsing, consuming his cock, he again barley lifts upward on his knees, lifts her trembling hips upward with his thick throbbing shaft pressing, flattening her engorged clit between her smooth, soft mound, forcing it inward with his stretching foreskin.  A couple more licks of the earlobe, down across the nape of her neck, her body trembles, her breasts swaying beneath his chest now raised above hers as he leans on his elbows, spreads his legs, lifts completely up off her on his bending toes in an almost altered push up position.

       Glancing down into her hazed eyes, the wide pupils, he begins raising, lowering his muscular body, only his cock contacting her responding, twitching  body as his shaft slides inward, completely, his scrotum slapping between her thighs.  His shaft retreating, then in again, out again in a steady pounding rhythm as she moans with each thrust, grunts, presses her breasts upward, trying to force her responding nipples to barely press, slide across his flexing pecks, both bodies glistening, perspiring as they respond in unison.  Her fists clenching, unclenching, her fingernails scrapping, gripping at the floor, her head twisting from side to side, her buttocks quivers against the carpet, bounces, her toes curling, pointing downward as he lifts up, presses down over and over.  Her stomach muscles quivering, flexing, her thighs rippling, her breaths become raspy as the tip of her tongue circles her parting mouth, her lips puckering with each rasping breath as she feels the pit of her stomach churning, her womb tingling while his thick, pulsing shaft continues to impale her again and again.

       Grunting, pumping, his muscles tensing as he drives his cock home, he feels her body spasm beneath him, her hips flinch, flinch again as her moans, groans, become rasping, guttural  grunts.  Grinding her stretching clit back and forth, in and out between his shaft and her pubic mound, keeping her hips lifted off the floor by his rigid cock mounted deep inside her, he feels his own stirring inside, his throbbing cock ready to explode its load.  Keeping in unison, even matching breathes as both bodies quiver, jerk, he rams in as harsh as he can, keeps his throbbing, pulsing shaft buried deep inside her, drives, forces her hips against the floor as her buttocks slides, scrapes across the harsh carpet.

       “Aaaagggh!!... Uuuummmmpphh!!”  Both bodies collapsing together, jerking, twisting, their mouths locking together, their tongues pressing into each others as they continue to rasp for breath, slump across the floor as he rolls onto his side, turning her with him.  His shaft still deeply burrowed between her clenching, trembling thighs as her arms circle his shoulders, her legs gripping his, her ankles locking tightly together.  Panting, groaning, she glances into his eyes through her narrow slits.  Another kiss, even a hug, she lowers and rests her head against his muscular chest, still holds tight like a young, innocent school girl.

       Now that’s a grudge fuck, he thinks to himself as he holds her damp warm body against his, the thought of a Marlboro sounding pretty good too as he holds her in his arms.  Fuck, this is the bullshit part, he thinks.  Have to hold, hug, act like everything’s wonderful, that it was the best sex ever.  Damn, that’s why a fucking blow job’s a hell of a lot more convenient. Ain’t no fucking kissing after that either!”

Chapter Twenty-Six           

         A Marlboro, cruising in the BMW, his thoughts are mostly on his grudge fuck.  Ariel’s mom still stretched on the wheel, at least he was kind enough to unclamp the clover clamp and turn off the juice.  Give the bitch another day and if she stays coherent he can start his interrogation with her.  Again thinking of his new business partner, sure responded to his cock, maybe she’s not just a dyke, probably swings both ways.  Pretty cool for a woman, but then again, a fucking man be like that he should be shot up his asshole with a low grain hollow point twenty-two, take three or for days to fester and die of blood poisoning.

       Flicking the butt out the window, heading for the office to get a copy of the latest missing report, he wonders who took it, nah, no fucking way he grins to himself, no way that young bitch was sent for round two with those people.  Can’t wait to read the report though, see who took it.

       Pulling in the lot, his favorite parking spot taken by the Captain, he parks in the Lieutenant’s spot, fuck him too.  Hitting the code on the back door, entering behind the front desk, he stands and listens to a woman complaining about an incident in the local park.  A couple rookies on the desk, sensing a chance to fuck with someone, the story has all the particulars to create a classic.  The woman mid thirties, a seven, maybe even an eight if you had a couple late night beers, he stands between the seated officers, faces the woman across the desk explaining her complaint.

       Seems a man was rude, possibly exposing something he shouldn’t have been to her as she was sunning herself.  The officers finding it hard to force out the particulars without causing further embarrassment to the lady, they’re having a problem coming up with a charge.  Seizing the moment, he speaks up. “Mam… Excuse me… May I ask a question or two?”

       The officers turning, realizing who’s speaking, the officer to the left not writing the report turns ashen, slowly shakes his head.

       The woman nodding waits for the questions as she wonders who the plain clothes officer is.  “He’s… He’s a superior… He’ll… He’ll ask the questions now.”  The officer to the right nods.

       “Okay Mam… You were sunbathing in the park… Correct?”

       “Yes… In the park.”

       “Where you clothed?”

       “What… Well yes … Yes of course.”  She answers, her face already beginning to flush.

          “Bathing suit?”

       “Well… Well a one piece… Nothing revealing.”  She answers, glances at the other two officers.

       “Not a bikini… A thong… Not topless?”  Asked with a straight face, arms crossed as the officer on the left lowers his head, acts as if he’s answering a phone that’s not ringing.

       “Wha… What… Topless?... No… No sir… I… I wouldn’t think of that!”  She answers half angrily, half embarrassed.  “I’m here to report some…”

       “Okay Mam… Take a breath… Relax… Just for the report.”

       Nodding her head, visibly upset, taking a breath, she waits for the next question, her hands gripped in front of her.

       “Okay Mam… He sort of exposed himself if I heard correctly.”

       “Yes…  Down by… By his leg… It kind of hung… Hung out.”  She mumbles.

       “What did?”  Asked with a straight face as the reporting officer also turns crimson.

       “His… His thing…. His thing down there!”  She stampers, reflexively pointing below her own waist.

       “Mam… In court… On the affidavit… The correct term must be used for the charge to be adjudicated with a conviction.”  He instructs while still with a straight face.  A couple other officers beginning to listen behind the partition, the room quieting behind them.

       “Now… What was ‘down there’… What exactly is ‘his thing’ Mam?... His penis?... Say so if it was.”

       A nod, her face bright red, she mutters.  “His… His Penis… Yes”

       “All of it?... Just part of it?... Just for the report Mam!”

       “Wha… What’s it matter… I guess just part of it, okay?”  She answers, obviously upset, embarrassed.

       “Okay Mam relax…This is embarrassing to me also… That’s disgusting!”  He continues.  “Now… Another couple questions… Think now… Can you identify it?”

       Beat red, unable to answer; she seems flustered as he asks another question almost immediately.        “Okay… Did he lay his hands on your body?”

       “No… No, I said he just exposed himself!”  She answers almost in a scolding tone, almost hostile now.

       “Not on your breasts?”

       What?... Of course not!”  She rasps.

       “Your buttocks?... Just for the report!”  He rapidly asks.

       “No… No… No!”  She grunts, stares at the other officers, obviously equally embarrassed.

       “Last question Mam… Did he mention how good you looked in your bathing suit, then?”

       ‘What?... No… No he didn’t!”  She scowls, obviously mad as hell, shaking her head.

       “Well Mam… That doesn’t say much for your body then… Does it?”  Turning, taking a step, he adds.  “The officer there will finish up now.”  Turning toward the rookie, he adds.  “See if you can help this young lady out, okay?”  Walking around the partition, he smiles at the group of officers holding back their grins, shaking their heads.

       “What?”  He shrugs.  “Just trying to help out… Catch some fucking pervert!”    

End Part Eight        

          

      

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                    

       

                   

TASKFORCE

Part Ten

Chapter Twenty-Nine        

        Leaving Ariel’s mom in the clutches of the Dom, he’s returned to his surveillance.  Sitting in the van, headlights off while slowly rolling to a stop across the street from the sparsely filled parking lot, he can’t help thinking to himself how arrogant that fucking old pervert is with all the shit going on as he parks the Mercedes out in the darker corner of the terminal’s lot.  Watching as Althea’s folks appear alone as they step out of their sedan, almost casually walking together across the terminal’s dimly lit lot, he sits back and watches them make their way toward the train station’s concourse, his mind still drifts back to the past night.  A slight drizzle on the windshield of the white van, he leaves the radio barely turned up as he thinks of his long evening with the Dom.

       Lighting his cigarette, recalling how he spread her out and worked her tits with that flat leather strap, used her own small version of a riding crop between her spread legs then fucked her like she was in heat as her naked body was drenched in sweat.  Thinking of her totally submitting to him for hours on end last night, he takes a long, slow draw on his Marlboro, his dick getting hard just thinking about it.  Fuck, he’s going to break her from being a dyke yet.

       The rain picking up, the pattern on the roof of the truck nearly drowns out the radio as he relaxes, his thoughts drifting back and forth.  Another slow, long drag on the cigarette, he doesn’t really care about the music as he again thinks of her naked body spread out in front of him, how he had the tears welling in her eyes, had her mumbling, biting her lip not to shout out her safe word as he left welts crisscrossing her butt cheeks along with that rack of hers.  Goddamn, he wonders if she realizes how much he restrained himself, especially with the clamps on her tits and clit.  Fuck, he probably could have tightened them another half turn, and the weights weren’t that heavy, at first anyway.

       Cranking down the window a couple inches, starting to flip the butt out, dropping it in his half empty warm Pepsi can instead, he glances down toward the file in the manila envelope, at the perverse information involving both fucking brothers.  His mind back on his business at hand, shaking his head he feels there’s a strong possibility this couple just might not make it home tonight. Glancing around the nearly vacant lot across the street, thinking at how simple it is for him to stalk them, fuck, he has the perfect cover if anything even remotely goes wrong.  If he’s seen, he’s just making sure the bastards are safe from that fucking den of abductors decimating their families.  If nothing goes wrong, and it won’t, well then, they won’t be around to complain anyway, will they?  One thing’s for sure as he picks up the folder from the car seat, glances at the information from Interpol once again, those two fucking sick brothers are into a lot more dirt then fucking old folks out of their live savings.

       Glancing over the confidential files for a couple minutes from the international law enforcement organization he’s belonged to for more years then he cares to fucking remember, he slowly shakes his head as he finishes yet another cigarette, stuffs it in the Pepsi can while still lit.  Another shove of the lighter, still holding it in as it heats up in the dash, he flips through the rap sheets for the third, forth time.  The motherfuckers gave him a bad feeling the first time he saw their mug shots, now he knows why.  The lighter springing back, a quick puff or two and he’s on his way to finishing his second pack for the day.

       Leaning back in the driver’s seat as the windshield fogs around its edges an occasional drip of water splashes in on him through the lowered door window.  Keeping his eye on the Mercedes across the street in the darkening parking lot, and more importantly the security cameras no doubt still functional up on the poles, he lets the smoke roll out the crack in the window.  The fuckers are safe from him here.  Another few minutes, another butt stuffed in the can, he sees the pair walking back toward their car, but now with a third person.

       Glancing quickly inside the folder again without really needing too, back toward the trio, he realizes he’s hit the jackpot, his fugitive’s with the couple, his family, the three of them all together, alone.  Watching them almost casually getting into their Mercedes, letting them drive off the lot, he follows while allowing plenty of room.  The excitement of the chase escalating with the feeling deep inside realizing what the outcomes heading toward, he feels the adrenaline pumping as he follows the taillights out of the area, into the darkness.  Police radio on his lap, a simple signal thirty and he could have plenty of uniforms converge for the bust.  Then again, fuck that, maybe he can get them to resist out in the dark, alone.  Shaking his head, leaning forward toward the steering wheel, who the fuck he kidding, he ain’t giving the motherfuckers time to resist.

Following the Mercedes into the darkness, thinking about the contents of the folder, he settles on his better idea, his way of dealing with scum like this, like he was going to do with just the couple anyway when he got the chance.  Slipping open his briefcase on the passenger seat, grabbing the throw- down that’s stuffed inside a clear plastic sandwich bag, he’s as good as made up his mind.  The bastard’s aint going to be a part of a fucking child porn ring anymore, the slimy bastards.  Reading the reports in the file, suspected, even charged, but never convicted, the few witnesses disappearing or having loses of memories, they’ve been abusing kids for years in their homeland, and probably over here, the fucking pedophiles.  Now, how poetic, he thinks, considering the circumstances of the females in their personal lives now.

The road winding into the countryside for the next few miles, glad the assholes picked the middle of the night so they’d be inconspicuous, he grins at his luck, feels actually kind of serene, just as he always does when the time draws close.  Dark, drizzly, isolated, he sets the blue light on the dash, turns it on as he pulls beside them while leaning across the seat and cranking the window down.  Flashing his shield out the passenger side, now it’s up to God.  They try to run, he’ll just stay behind them, get on the radio and they’ll be apprehended for sure.  If they stop, he slips his hand across the baggy, feels the handle of the .357 loaded with low grain hollow-points as he grips it in his palm.

A few seconds, seeming like minutes, he can recognize the face of the driver staring back toward him, then toward the winding dark road, back toward him.  A look of frustration, even anger, just like the night of the missing reports, and the driver’s even using obvious choice words as his hands slap at the steering wheel.  Again flashing the shield, slipping its chain over his head, around his neck, he can’t believe it as their dark sedan slows down, pulls over.  The rain a little steadier, pulling up beside the Mercedes, the van’s  passenger window all the way down as he slows to a stop, the van still on the roadway, he watches the driver’s glass lower beside him.  Seeing the asshole leaning across in the back seat, the slightest of a reflection as his hand raises, its reaction time.  Two!… Two!… One and one, the six discharges in less then a second and a half are deafening in the hollow cube of the van.

Goddamn!  Motherfucker!  His head pounds as he jumps from the van, his ears ringing from the six quick flashes of the revolver’s lethal barrel.  Reaching inside the driver’s door as he almost instantly surveys the results of the confrontation, the woman hysterical across the front seat, screaming, her arms covering her head as she leans forward, he thinks, what a fucking pattern, proud as hell as the blank eyes of both men stare into space. Glancing from one asshole to the other, just like the target range, two into the first, two into the second, one into the first, the last into the second, fucking right you cocksuckers!  Quickly reaching his hand in, hitting the door lock on the driver’s door, running around the front of the car, his ears still ringing, he drags the nearly hysterical woman from the Mercedes as he rips the top buttons of her blouse while harshly patting her down as she struggles, kicks.  Seeing the gun laying on the back set, inches from the upturned hand no longer in the position to hold it, he smiles, no wonder they fucking stopped!

Slapping cuffs on her wrists behind her back, throwing her in the side door of the van, a leg cuff already bolted to the floor quickly shackling her ankle, he pushes her onto the spread out sheets of canvas lying across the floor.  Checking the Mercedes a second time, the close patterns of the trio of mushrooming hollow-points in each bastard obviously did their jobs.  Hopping inside the van, listening to her shrieks, he thinks for a moment as he grabs his police radio.  Justifiable, the cocksucker’s got a gun on the backseat and he’s a fucking fugitive on top of it all!  Fuck, could be in line for a couple medals even!

Glancing back toward her laying, kicking on her side, his ears still ringing, he quickly glances back toward the Mercedes.   Also glancing back through the rear view mirror, noticing her ripped blouse; slipping a Marlboro from his shirt pocket, he takes a deep breath, hits the lighter again.  Playing with the police radio for a moment, finally laying it back down across the seat, he tries to make a quick decision to himself as he also glances back toward the devastation he left in the Mercedes on the side of the still isolated road.  Goddamned, he thinks, another quick glance in the mirror, her fucking tits must be at least D’s!  Slipping the van into drive, he glances one more time into the chaos of the idling Mercedes, shakes his head.  Making his decision as he drives away, he bets himself they’re double D’s.

Chapter Thirty

Being led down through the hallway to the chambers below the mansion, the various rooms the Dominatrix had a hand in designing herself; he can’t help thinking of just the single concrete pit he threw together in the sub-basement of the old warehouse, what a fucking contrast.  Choosing the largest room toward the end of the hall, actually separated by double mahogany doors from the rest and just at the foot of a staircase leading to the great room in the mansion above, glancing around it as he enters the already open entrance, he hesitates as he’s struck by its meticulous  appearance.

       Glancing back toward her in her revealing white flowing, sensuous dress highlighting her tanned body, he senses just a hint of a smile crossing her face as she nods, barely whispers.  “A painstaking restoration of the set from the French movie, Histoire d’O, with the actress Corrine Clery. 

Glancing back, he’s instantly attracted toward the room’s raised centerpiece.  A set of slender, elegant twin marble pillars mounted with gold brackets dominate the room from the subtle platform raising in front of flower illustrated coves molded into the arched walls that’s also lined with similar marble pillars obviously designed for ambiance and structural support.  Realizing the exquisitely detailed chamber does seem out of a movie set, its lavish turquoise and cream paint schemes tastefully surrounding the room, he can’t help thinking what a fucking contrast to his creosoted railroad ties with a stark bare light hung by a cord above them in the concrete bunker.

Recollecting the now classic movie, ‘Story of O’, racy in its own way for its time, he remembers actually renting it from one of the earlier video stores on a beta tape for his also at the time state of the art beta-max VCR.  Fuck, that had to be sometime in the mid seventies.  Cleary presented herself as being transformed into the classical submissive, and what a fucking body, even became a James Bond girl a few years later.

Glancing back toward her, back toward the podium, he lets her step ahead of him as he glances over the various bondage implements on a flat sterling silver tray next to a pillar.  A couple simple leather cuffs with the exception of gold ‘O’ rings for fastening lay atop the various array of bondage gear.  In the movie, the disciplined submissives’ wore the same type cuffs while dressed in sheer white free flowing dresses that were stripped down to below their waists to begin their floggings.

“Ready for her to be brought in now?”  She asks, again in a low tone, not really asking, just being polite.

“What?... Yeh… Yea okay.”  He answers, glancing toward the pillars, back toward her.

“To properly use this setting.”  She answers, her eyes still lowered as she reaches for one of the wrist cuffs, she continues.  “When I use this… I mean usually when this room’s used, the submissive is offered in a more elegant manner to suit the atmosphere of the chamber… That way… At least to me… The pain’s more enjoyable. ”

“Really?”  He smiles, shakes his head.

“I… I just thought you’d want to see how to make a flogging more erotic and not just inflicting pain… More erotic can be so much more enjoyable…Especially for the person inflicting the punishment… Even the submissive too.”  She nods, glances toward his eyes.  “Not harsh and brutal like a certain person I know!”

“Oh… I didn’t think I was so hard on you a couple nights ago after we agreed on our little tradeoff.”  He smiles.  “You did cum when I fucked you after I warmed that ass up of yours and worked those tits… You actually seemed to like it, didn’t even have to shout ‘Leo’.

“It came close a couple times… And I’m still sore.”  She nods.  “But now I want to show you how to appreciate having a submissive accept, even in a way want the punishment from the proper handler… It can be exhilarating… The fine line between pain and pleasure can meld together if done properly.”  Staring him straight into his eyes, her own eyes almost sparkling, she adds.  “The proper technique can transform a flogging into a rewarding experience... Like I said… Even for the submissive once she’s learned to accept it!”

Listening to her, wondering if what she’s saying means anything, or if the bitch is just trying to act like its okay to whip the fuck out of somebody for no other reason if you’re in a more refined atmosphere, the idea does strike him as intriguing.  “What… You want to show me how to whip you…  To find out where it feels good for you… The next time?... And by the way how about the workout you gave to Ariel’s mom?... And where’s she at now?”

“You asshole!”  She answers as she starts unfastening the strap in her hand while shaking her head.  “She’ll recover… And I have to admit, that was exhilarating too… Not that I’d want to make inflicting that much pain into an everyday routine… And don’t worry; she’s long gone, and might I say with a few good years of servitude left in her.”  Again staring into his eyes, she grins.  “Then again… I guess we’ll have to work something out between us concerning her hysterical sister-in-law you have down in my sub-basement now…. She looks like she can handle plenty of pain too.”

A knowing grunt and a nod, he turns his head as he hears the footsteps in the hallway. 

“If you don’t agree after you watch… If that dick of yours doesn’t get hard watching the workout I’m about to perform now… Then you’re more of a degenerate then I thought!”  She nods, glances toward the entrance, toward the hallway, the sound of approaching footsteps.  “Now for your surprise.”

       Led into the room from the hallway with white dressed submissives on either side of her, also in a revealing white dress, she’s the girl the Dom negotiated with him for.  Eyes lowered, her hands palms outward by her thighs, her hair stretches severely back behind her head.  Directed to the podium, without hesitating she turns, raises both arms toward the Dominatrix.

       “She’s a fast learner… Really she is!”  The Dom smiles toward him as she slips the open cuff onto the girl’s left wrist, raises it toward the gold clasps on the marble column.  A second cuff, unclasped then secured around her other wrist and that arm’s raised up to the other column.  The submissives helping, one kneels and fastens straps to the girl’s spreading ankles, fastens them to the bottoms of the columns.

       The submissives stepping back follow a nod from the Dom and leave the room shutting the door behind them.  Just the tree left in the room, the Dom steps onto the rear of the podium, reaches around and unbuttons the three buttons lining the front top of the dress.  Letting the dress spread open across the girl’s outthrust breasts, untying the straps across each shoulder as both breasts sway freely, she lets the white material drop to the floor completely revealing the girl’s totally naked body.

Spread-eagled in a taut but not quite so severe pose, her milky bare flesh shimmers from a recent bathing and shaving.  Eyes still toward the floor, her stomach ripples with each breath, her ribcage defined under her glistening smooth flesh.  Makeup perfect, her slender waist obviously still being molded by cinching corsets, the slight bulge of her pubic mound standing out above her spread vagina, all in all she makes a stunning submissive.

Smiling toward him, reaching for her left sleeve, tugging it off her shoulder, the Dom whispers.  “A little warm in here… Mind if I remove some of my clothes too?”  Slipping off the other sleeve, sliding the dress down across her hips, her white garter belts, she stands naked in her white mesh stockings, white stilettos.  Breasts oiled, glistening, her body also freshly shaven, her tanned flash contrasts with the girl’s.

Folding the dress, picking a bright red ‘O’ ring from the tray, she slips it between the girl’s unresisting parting lips and fastens its black leather straps behind her neck.  Cupping a bare breast, sliding her thumbnail back and forth across the nub of the flattened nipple, she gently asks.  “Ready to show him how well you can accept the lash?”

A slow nod of the head in response, the girl’s eyes still staring toward the floor, the Dom glances aback toward him with a smile as she picks out a willowy, flexible cane.  “I think we’ll start with this first.”  She softly states as she flexes her wrist, lets the dark tanned color wooden cane swish back and forth in her hand as her supple breasts sway in unison.  Stepping behind the girl, raising the cane horizontally as she carefully positions herself, a slight flick of the wrist and the end of the crop curls, ‘smacks’ across the rounded topside of the girl’s butt cheeks.  “Thwack!”

The girl’s naked body shuddering, her fists clenching as she frantically tiptoes onto the balls of her feet, the Dom smiles toward him as she steps to the side of the podium, positions herself again.  “Notice… Not a word from our young lady… A little movement maybe… But a good little silent girl!”  The Dom smiles, traces a fingertip across the already red welt rising across both butt cheeks, contrasting with the unblemished creamy flesh.  “She’s already learning to be quite polite.”

Stepping to the front of the podium, she lets the back of her hand brush across the girl’s right nipple as she glances back toward him.  “She obeys without hesitation… Watch.”  Glancing back toward a tear streaking down off the girl’s cheek, she softly orders.  “Push this little tittie out so I can flick it with the cane…  And let’s see… How about right across that nice pink bare nipple?”

Taking a partial step back, positioning herself at an angle, curling the supple crop and bending it back in both hands, she positions it horizontally in front of the girl’s firm breast being obediently thrust forward, appearing not so small as her back arches.  “Three… Two…………… And one!”  Counting down, hesitating on the final count, she lets the crop spring outward.  ‘Swish… Thwack!”

“Oomph!”  A nearly silent mutter as again tiptoeing, now up onto her toes, her shoulders arching back, the girl turns her head sharply to the left as her fists clench above the leather wrist cuffs stretching in the bindings.  A red welt streaking across her creamy breast, tracing across her flattened areola and nipple, tears stream down her cheeks from both welling eyes.

Again glancing back toward him, smiling, the Dom gently taps the crop across the girl’s bellybutton as she speaks.  “Now a nice pleasant stroke between her cuntlips… Right across that little nub of a clitoris I’m so found of.”  Kneeling in front of the girl’s quivering body, again her own substantial breasts bouncing, jiggling, she positions herself between the girls spread thighs, glances up into her widening, pleading eyes.  “Okay dear…   Push that little pussy out here for me…  And spread those legs a little wider… Okay?”

Bending the crop back again between both hands, watching the girl’s trembling legs spread even wider as her knees bow outward, the Dom glances back at him, at him reflexively pressing his own legs together as he bites his lip, intently watching.  “Three… Two… One!”  Touching the tip of the crop against the handle, releasing her fingers, the bowed crop flexes directly between the girl’s thighs, curling, springing straight forward, over handed.  ‘Swish… Thwack!’

“Aaaaaggggghhhhh!”  Her body jerking back, her knees jerking inward, the bindings stretch, flexes from her ankles and wrists as her head flails back across her tensed shoulders.  Saliva spewing out from the ‘O’ ring, her groan much more audible, the Dom raises from her kneeling position, pats the front of the girl’s flexing stomach, rippling abs.  Glancing toward the red welt streaking upward from the girl’s slit to across her shaven pubic mound, glancing back toward him, she smiles.  “She’s allowed a little release when I flog her pussy… It’s a girl thing!”

Stepping to the other side of the girl, lining up her other breast, she taps its nipple with the tip of the crop.  “Can’t forget this tittie… Can we Hon?”  The girl noticeably quivering, spittle drooling out from the ‘O’ ring, her breast jaunts outward, the unmarred, smooth nipple jiggling. “That’s perfect Hon… Now hold still so we can match our other tittie… And remember… Silence… Or I’ll have to punish you by flogging your clitoris again.”  Again positioning herself at a sideways angle, flexing the crop back with her fingertips, she aligns the bowing shaft with the tip of the perky breast.  “Three… Two……………………… And………….. One!”

The crop bowing, bending as the tip springs from the Dom’s fingers, the girl closes her eyes, braces.  ‘Swish… Thwack!’

Letting the crop sink into the girl’s breast, watching her glistening body tremble, her head jerk back, the Dom watches the red welt instantly rise across that milky globe as she pulls the crop back.  A little brighter then the other welt, a little longer, it too stretches across her flattened areola.  “Good girl…. Not even a whimper… I’m so proud of you!”

Stepping from the podium, breasts bouncing, nipples spreading apart with each bouncing step, she strolls up next to him, asks.  “Now… How erotic is this workout Mister?”  Turning back toward the slumping girl, the red welts glistening, contrasting with her fair skin as her arms stretch upward to the cuff’s bindings, the Dom lets the tip of the crop flick across her own left nipple, hands the wooden shaft to him and nods back toward the girl.  “Want a turn?... Work her out like me?”

“Sure!”  Taking the crop, staring directly into the Dom’s sparkling eyes before stepping toward the podium, he lets the tip of the crop playfully flick across her right nipple, realizing he’s about to be instructed for his next negotiated workout with the Dom, with her bound naked between those pillars.

End Part Ten

        

          

   

       

       

       

TASKFORCE

Part Eleven

Chapter 31

       Quite the headlines, the two son-of-a-bitch pedophiles found airinated in their Mercedes, the cunt missing, presumed abducted as the rest of the women in that sorry ass family’s been.  And, the fucking reporters want action, results, right now!  At least that’s how the front page of the morning newspaper laying on the counter reads to him as he sits back on the stool at the Dunken Donut shop, chugs the last of the second cup of black coffee while finishing his third jelly roll, they’re cheaper in threes this week.  Flipping the paper across the counter, seeing the Chief’s statement that he’s going to have his best detective assigned to the case, what the fuck!  So the Chief considers him his best detective, he smiles at the thought, kinda’ touched by the compliment even though the Chief didn’t mention that last night when he jovially called him with the news the case was going to be his.

       Leaving a couple buck tip, figuring every donut shop’s going to be owned by a family of fucking dot-heads sooner or later, he smiles at the youngest of the three dark skinned Pakistani sisters working the counter as she quickly slips the bucks in her own apron before the other pair sees her.  So much for honor among sisters!  Stepping out to his BMW, lighting up before turning the ignition, he thinks of the cousins over in the vineyards, thinks about maybe taking his first vacation in who knows how long, thinks especially about Ariel.

       Oh well, what the fuck, time to get to work, look for those bastards that ruined the interior of that otherwise perfect Mercedes with those asshole’s blood and guts.  Backing out of the parking spot, casually pulling off the lot, he makes a mental note of contacting the article’s reporter later in the morning.  Fuck, if she’s as hot as her picture in the column, he might have some tidbits of information to tease her with, maybe over a dinner, maybe tonight.  Damn, he thinks, just who the hell does she look like?  Heading downtown, just to cruise the hood, flipping the radio band to AM for one of his favorite talk radio programs, he sits back with his Marlboro hanging out the window between his fingers, enjoys the beginning of a wonderful new fucking day.

       Killing an hour or so, the streets still pretty well empty, of course who the fuck gets up before noon down here if they don’t have to go to fucking work, he makes a couple passes by the old grocery building just for the memories.  Nothing shaking, deciding a quick call to the newspaper’s desk about the article seems in line, he hits the pad on the cell phone, leaves a message to the reporter’s voicemail that he’s working the case and can give an unofficial interview.  Figuring anyone on the ball would have to jump on that, he flips the cell phone shut, tosses it across the seat beside him.

       Less then ten minutes, the eager voice returning his call, discussing an interview, wanting a photographer and the whole nine yards present, he turns her down.  On the other hand, refusing his offer of a dinner meeting, she compromises and accepts a one on one, off the record meeting in his car for nine o’clock.  Cunt, he thinks to himself as he closes the phone, the bitch thinks her shit don’t stink.  That’s okay; she’s going to be in for an interesting evening anyway.  Driving home, taking a break for the rest of the day, he figures he’ll take in a Cub’s game on that WGN cable channel this afternoon, Wrigley Field itself being the real attraction.  Then it’s grab a bite to eat afterwards and take it easy till the evening.

       Game over,  a peaceful nap and never needing an alarm clock, his body seeming to have its own timer, he showers before dressing halfway respectable for the interview.  In the car, heading to the newspaper building, he flips the cell phone open, does a recall to her phone.  Sounding like a bitch, a pouting brat, again almost demanding to bring along a photographer, he threatens to drive off, skip the interview if she even mentions it again.  Parking in the no parking zone in front of the main entrance, less then a couple minutes she’s stepping out the door, the pout on her face matching their phone conversation.  Turning on the interior light, flashing his badge, he lets her get in the front seat herself.   So much for the gentleman shit.  After all, with the fem lib, equal opportunity and all that other bullshit including her snugness, she can open the fucking door herself.

       Sliding in, glancing over the car, she gives a curtsy smile.  “Nice car for a cop…. Tax payers must really love paying your salary!”  Glancing back toward her, not really giving a shit with her attitude anyway, realizing he’s right, she is a fucking cunt, he returns her curtsy smile, goes for the jugular.  “Kinda’ nice tits for a reporter too… Not big enough to be store bought though… Huh?”

       A glare, her face flushing, she mutters… “That’s… That’s not called fo……..”

       “Hey!”  He butts in, figuring he might as well really piss her off, reaches in his shirt pocket as he continues.  “First of all… For your information this is a confiscated drug car…  And second.”  He continues as he flips in the lighter, holds it between his thumb and finger as he lets the Marlboro dangle from his lip.  “Second… I earn my fucking money, toots.”  Lighting up, the first long draw blown back across the car, he slips the lighter back into the dash just knowing she fucking loves to be called ‘toots’.

       Out from the curb, heading toward the hood, he glances over toward her scorning face as she can’t open the locked power window on her side.  “What’s the matter?… Don’t like Marlboro’s!”

       “Cigarettes are disgusting!”  She scolds, frowning, wasting her time trying to wave the smoke away.  “Could you please open this window?”

       “Sure… Anything for you… Toots.”   He smirks back as he presses the control on his side of the door, lowers her window all the way down.  Cracking his window a couple inches, letting the smoke on his side drift up and out also, he again smiles.  “Want an interview or want me to turn the corner around the block and drop your ass back off empty handed?... Don’t matter much to……”

       “I… I… No… I’ll take the interview… Might as well.”  She butts in while still frowning, glancing out the passenger door window.  “I’m already here… The rest of my evening’s already wasted anyway… And for Christ’s sake… No more ‘Toots’... Please!”

       “Yeah… I know how you must feel… Mine too!”  He grunts as he briefly glances toward her, impressed with pissing her off so easily while still wondering why women seem to always have a problem with him on first impression, and second.  Another puff, another flick of an ash out the top of the partially opened window, he takes a longer look at her silhouette as she stares straight ahead toward the hard streets that’s just starting to come alive in the darkness.  A closer look, his mind wondering, he realizes he sees more then just a vague likeness.  Damn, he’s figured it out!  “Anyone ever tell you that you kinda’ have a strong resemblance to Demi Moore?”

       Turning her head toward the sidewalks passing by, a slow shake of the head back and forth, she scowls.  “What’s that, a weak ass pick up line?”

       “Oh… No.”  He grins, flicking his cigarette out the window.  “Really… A little younger version… Maybe back to ‘A Few Good Men’ era… You know… Early nineties… The movie with Cruise… Nicholson.”

       “Yea.”  She continues looking straight out the windshield.  “Cuba Gooding Jr. and Kevin Bacon, too.”  Lightening up a bit, she adds.  “Yea… I guess you’re more the Bruce Willis type too, huh?”

       “Actually.”  He grins as he reaches for another smoke.  “I’ve been told I am along those lines… Only a littler gentler… I even think I’m actually kind of introverted.”  Hitting the lighter, waiting for it to heat up, he adds.  “Of course that shit he does is just movies… No one’s like that out on the real streets… You know us cops… We just hang around donut shops and drink coffee to avoid the bad-asses out there.”  A puff on the Marlboro to light it, another frown from her as he slides the lighter back into the dash, he finishes.  “Damn… I don’t recall ever firing my gun in the line of duty.... Sometimes I wonder if I even could!”

“Really?”  She nods. Her face turned toward the open window, the inner city dwellers filtering out of their apartments, hanging on the corners, giving the BMW more then a quick glance.  “Think you should roll the window up?... And… And maybe finish that cigarette?”

Seeing the old grocery less then a block down on the left, a few of the regulars hanging out on the stoop, he rolls his window all the way down instead, lets his arm rest on the sill after sliding her window shut with the power buttons.  “Yea… Yea.”  He nods.  “In a minute… Yea… Wait!”

His attention staying on the loiterers, ignoring her beside him, eyeing the punk in the middle of the group, all that’s missing is the white bleached blond, imagine fucking that!  Slowing down, making sure he misses the light, he cruises to a stop as he slowly reaches his hand back inside the window, takes a long, slow draw on the Marlboro.  The slick BMW cruising the hood getting their attention, he notices one of the younger guys taking a step or two toward the curb.  The adrenaline flowing, resting his arm again on the sill, he flicks the butt toward the kid’s feet while slowly shaking his head back and forth while thinking, don’t need your fucking drugs, asshole!

Ignoring the kid completely, eyes’ locking with the punk’s in the middle of the group, watching his arm sliding around the girl leaning beside him, squeezing her big youthful tit with one hand, noticing his other hand slowly going in toward the waistband of his droopy ass pants, he realizes she’s just another new young white tramp, but with jet black hair this time, and big tits too as she pushes them out, probably even D’s, fuck me!  Eyes focusing back on business, on the punk, daring, almost hoping he sees a flash of steel in that waist band, giving him a smirk and a cocked finger and thumb as the first time around, he rests his other hand reflexively on his concealed nine-millimeter under the seat while slowly releasing the safety.  Sitting through most the green light, all he gets back is a few scowls from the quieted punk ass group, nothing else.  Imagine that!   A wanta’ be pit bull not realizing he’s just a punk ass glaring straight into the eyes of Jack the fucking Ripper!  The motherfucker’s being lucky twice now!

Silence all the way around, inside and outside the car, giving a final ‘fuck you’ nod, he slowly cruises through the intersection after the green traffic signal flashes to yellow.  Making a mental note, he really does need to come back visit that cocksucker soon, and real, real soon!  And, fuck the body cast, its out!

“My God!”  The reporter’s voice almost trembles as she breaks the silence.  “What… What was that all about?”

Turning, glancing at her ashen face, just remembering she’s with him, he nods.  “Oh… Nothing actually… Just a local tough guy with his Hoe’s and Bitches out on the street trying to do business on his corner… That’s all.”   Rolling his window up, almost feeling a tinge of sympathy for her naivety as he slides the nine-millimeter back under the seat, flicking the safety back on, he adds.  “Remember what you said when you got in the car… I get paid quite well for doing my mundane job… Don’t I?”

“Aren’t … Aren’t you concerned being by yourself down here like… Like this?”  Her voice quivers.  “I mean… With those people?... Wha… What if they did something?”

“Hey!”  He smiles.  “I’ve got you with me… Remember?... Besides… It’s absolutely politically incorrect to say ‘those people’… Don’t you know that?”

“Yeh… And… And I’m ready to… To pee myself!”

“Oh… Come on Demi!”  He grins as he reaches for the cigarette pack in his shirt pocket while glancing toward the rear view mirror.  “Oh… Fuck!... Fuck!”

“What?... What’s the matter?”  Eyes widening, twisting her neck, glancing back toward the intersection, she almost yells.  “What… What is it… What’s happening?”

“It’s real bad…Damn it to Hell!.... Shit!”  He scowls.  “I’m… I’m out of smokes!”  He nods, crushing the empty pack, tossing it onto the back seat.

A moment of silence, a smile with a slight nod of her head, she whispers.  “Thank God!... Now… Now how about that interview you promised?… Asshole!”

“Okay… But remember… Strictly off the record!”   He answers while glancing over toward her profile as she sits upright, back against the seat while she’s again watching the sidewalk filling with vermin out the passenger door window.  Again his mind’s in continuous motion as he realizes her tits ain’t that small after all, besides, Demi had to get a boob job for her role in ‘Striptease!’

Chapter 32

Still keeping her to himself for the time being, he heads toward the smallest of the chambers in the bowels of the mansion, wondering what bullshit his new reporter friend’s going to print that he fed her last night.  Things go just right; he’ll get that fucking dinner date with her after all, then ‘feed’ her a lot more then that.  Walking down the hall, he stops at the closed door, unlocks, and opens it.

Althea’s mother appears barely awake as her naked body hangs, arches by her arms reversed upwards back past her shoulders by baling wire disappearing into her painfully bound wrists.  Both shoulders contorting, appearing on the verge of dislocating, enflamed, swollen from the excruciating bindings holding the weight of her barely swaying body, her grunts are barely audible as she slowly twists; similar wires binding a pair of matching weights dangling from her raw ankles.  Her long dark single braid of hair now matted and stringy stretches her head back by another wire fastened to the top eyelet of a thick black metal hook rammed between her buttocks penetrating her stretched rectum.

       Eyes glazed over, having hung in the same agonizing position for the better part of a full day now, her globular breasts, though sweating, streaked with drool, has remained unmolested, the only part of her body virtually pain free.  Spinning her around, smacking her breasts a couple times back and forth to get her attention, her dark areolas appear flat; just the nubs of her nipples standing upright off her full melons bouncing, swaying down off her heaving chest as she’s spun in a complete circle.  Somewhat coherent now, parched without a drink of water since her abduction, her body sporadically trembles as he releases, steps around to the front side of her.   Slipping a hand between her thighs, pinching, twisting her clit, he causes barely a rasping grunt from her raw throat, long hoarse from swearing, threatening, finally lack of water.  Sliding his hand away, he prepares to give her unobstructed breasts their long overdue attention as he thinks of the brutality she’s reaped on so many other innocents.

       Feeling that feeling he gets when he’s in complete control of someone’s fate, the pain they’re about to feel, he snips another length of baling wire from the coiled spool in the corner.  Gripping a breast, wrapping the wire slowly and firmly, turn after turn as her breast swells in the palm of his hand as it bulges into a dark, round globe, he watches as the areola, nipple discolor into a deep shade of purple.  Her grunts become louder as her head remains jerked back by her twisting hair as he drops her breast, lets it jiggle from out off her chest.  Another snip of wire, her other breast cupped, wrapped time and again with the wiring starting right against her chest, that breast swells into another hard, round discolored globe, its veins standing out, crisscrossing her taut tit flesh as each of her rasping breathes brings a gurgling groan.

Stepping back, letting that breast bounce as he releases it, sadistically calculative as he watches her body twitch, snipping yet another length of wire, circling her left distorted melon a couple turns above the already numerous wrappings, he lets the loose end dangle, steps around her.  Another length of wire wrapped a couple more turns around her right breast; he positions himself behind her, wraps the pair of loose ends around a short wooden handle behind her back.

       Twisting a full deliberate turn to let her feel the full impact of the stretching, feeling the wires tense, he twists a second full turn and watches the thin wires tighten, sinking into her glistening ribcage under her up stretched arms.  Another slow full turn, the wires tensing tighter, her breasts begin to spread apart, separate toward her sides.  Feeling her body jerking, hearing another louder grunt, then a series of whimpers as the metal hook jerks between her butt cheeks and braided hair, he doesn’t hesitate as he twists yet another intense full turn, this time a little slower and more difficult as the taut wires stretch at her bulging globes, firmly tugs them away from her sternum, even closer toward her sides until he can see the outlines of her darkened taut nipples appear past her ribcage from behind, pointing apart, more then puffy, yet nearly translucent though almost blackened.  Another harsher twist, not quite able to complete another full turn, the wooden handle sinks into the small of her back as she gasps, grunts, her body again jerking, the weights swaying back and forth from her bound ankles as she reflexively kicks her feet.

       Stepping in front of her, listening to another unearthly groan, he surveys her unrecognizable breasts standing straight out from her sides like a pair of overripe grapefruits, the wires tightly wrapped into less the an inch circumference into their bases.  Griping the nubs of both bulging nipples, he gives them a long, slow complete agonizing turn.

       “Aaaaaggghhhhhhhh!!!”   The first real scream from her parched lips of the day, her nearly bursting nipples facing virtually back around either side of her contorting torso, he pinches one harsher pinch and let’s go.

       Stepping around her, her chest unerringly flat across her chest, both breasts practically torn around the sides of her ribcage, her dark toned body beads with perspiration as it quivers uncontrollably from the twanging wires.  Head tilted back by her stretching hair as her neck stretches backwards, her stomach ripples with each rasping breath as he steps close enough to cup both bulging, rock hard globes against her sides.  Running his fingertips across her flattened nipples one more time as he glances into her swollen bloodshot eyes, feeling just the smallest of the bulge of her taut areolas, he flicks his thumbs against the hollow sounding globes and steps back, not done yet.

       One more length of wire from the spool, two, three tight twists around her clit as he stretches it’s nub downward, systematically lifting up her left ankle a few inches, wrapping the end of the wire around her ankle and dropping it, lifting the other ankle from her jerking leg even as she screams again, and wrapping the other end of the wire around that ankle, he steps back, watches her legs tremble as the weights hang down, jiggling,  swaying back and forth from below her bowed knees as she uses what strength she has left to momentarily relieve the unbearable pain now between her legs.

       Satisfied so far with her torment, her battered and bruised body hanging like a marionette in the glistening wires stretching, twisting with her tortured body, he reaches in his pocket, slips a Marlboro from the half empty pack, lights it.  Strolling around her as her grunts become just gurgles, watching her body contorting, sweating, swaying, he’s sure she’ll be unconscious within the next couple minutes as he’s amazed she’s lasted this long, the fucking bitch can take some pain.  He wonders to himself if she’ll have nightmares, then again, how about the countless kids she helped torture, send into slavery and worse.

But, until she does pass out, maybe a little more attention to her tits.  A deep puff, laying the glowing tip against her left nipple, he can’t tell if she feels it or not as her body’s already convulsing and her grunts are raw wheezes.  Stepping around, another long draw to get the cigarette to glow a little hotter, pressing it against the other purplish nub, the same basic result, maybe a noticeable grunt or two as he can see the ashes grinding against the nub.

       Damn it!  Shaking his head, taking one more long, slow toke, the red tip glowing, he presses it between her legs, harshly against the thickened nub of her wired clit, twisting it back and forth a couple times.  “Aaaaagggghhhh!”  Smiling, listening to her final scream as her body finally goes limp in the wires, he takes another puff, flicks the butt to the floor, satisfied she felt that.

       Slowly walking around her, thinking, deciding how far to go, knowing she’s on the verge of no return with the brutality of her torture, her body being ruined, he thinks to himself, Christ, she’s won’t be worth fucking with much more of this punishment.  Fuck, the Dom won’t even want her!  A closer look, her fucked up body not even resembling what she did just hours ago, he makes his decision.

       Untwisting, snipping, unwrapping the wires from her suspended body as the wires leave dark purplish bruises across her battered flesh, he frees her breasts, her clit, her ankles as she remains limply hanging by her inverted arms stretched upwards behind her.  Lowering the butt hook, removing the weights, untying her hair, finally releasing those wires left hoisting her off the floor; he lays her down on her back, spreads her arms and legs outward.  Checking her over, any real permanent damage could be to her shoulders, other then that, the session wasn’t long enough, this time.

When she wakes up, she’ll more then likely be unable to stand, to move for quite a while, he thinks.  A couple buckets of ice cold brine water tossed across her raw wounds, leave her for another day or so and maybe he’ll let her have a bottle of water before playing with her some more, this time just maybe a little harsher.  Then again, maybe work out another deal with the Dyke, and let her have her.

End Part Eleven                             

       

       

        

TASKFORCE

Chapter 33

Wanting a story, promising to be discreet, he knows not to trust her, after all, she’s a bitch, aren’t they all.  Still, she is a good looking bitch with nice tits, and of course thinking with his dick, he decides give her a chance not to screw him, hopefully figuratively not literally, so he gives her some bullshit just to see where it all goes.  To piss him off for some reason, she even adds a little more in the next edition about the poor bastards and their women, dead and missing, all just speculative but possibly damaging if tied together by anyone with a brain.  When suggesting a certain detective is involved in the case in a round about way after promising not too, deciding to stifle the mounting flames, he acts unconcerned with her boarder-line backstabbing and decides to reel her in.  One good thing about his personal emotions, lying cunts are a dime a dozen.

Playing her like a violin, acting as if everything’s cool, he advises her of a BDSM club run by a Madam/Dominatrix involving some prominent local people at an exclusive estate.  Telling her he needs to really get inside, use someone not known to even other cops, maybe this decimated family was involved in it, then again possibly not.  Letting her think she can help break a huge story, who knows, possibly a Pulitzer even if everything all falls into place, he has her prepare, research a few days for the role of being a Dominatrix herself, helping infiltrate the organization, and then being able to break the story.  Thinking the estate’s a legal front for the underground organization, she can’t resist his offer to play undercover cop with him.

Pounding the computer, researching the depths of the sadomasochistic lifestyle, understanding that she would have to be able to pull off being a real life Dominatrix, and most importantly not allowing a single word of the sting operation to leak out at all due to security, she eagerly accepts the challenge knowing even though he might be a little crazy, he’s still a hell of an undercover cop that can protect her.           

Finally the night arrives.  On the way to the estate, rehearsing her involvement over and over with her, making sure she’ll participate in some of the less graphic acts somewhat if needed, maybe even a second or even third trip may be necessary, he’s satisfied he has her in the frame of mind needed.  Parking at the foot of the entrance, he glances across at the look on her face, her widening eyes behind her heavily applied makeup and with the obvious expression at the last second of not believing she’s actually doing this, especially dressed like this.  Stepping around the ’67 Corvette, allowing a valet behind the wheel, he steps beside her, already assisted out by another valet.

       “Well Demi… Ready for that story you want so badly?”  Nodding toward her, using the pet name he’s tagged her with since their first meeting; he can just visualize what she’s going to be going through before the night’s done.  Glancing at her outfit, all black, form fitting, virtually a match for the classic ‘Vampira’ dress of the fifties spoof, the long split revealing her thigh with the black stilettos and chocker collar to match her long dark, straight hair, she certainly fits the mold.  Fuck, the house’s Mistress will certainly be back in her ‘Dyke’ mode when she sees this outfit, he thinks to himself, after all, she picked it out herself when they thought up this scam together! 

       “Yea… Yes… This place looks… Looks like something out of a storybook alright!”  She finally answers while still glancing around, taking in the atmosphere while reflexively crossing an arm across her plunging neckline, obviously not that comfortable with her disguise.

       “Hey… Remember where you’re at!... What you’re doing!”  He scolds.  “And who you’re supposed to be… Dom’s don’t conceal themselves… They have confidence… Now push that chest out there… Stand straight… Walk like you mean business… You’re fucking undercover… Don’t blow it girl!”  He rasps as they glance up the hillside, the number of steps to the front foyer, at the mingling group of well dressed people already present.  “Remember… Just stick to the basics we’ve discussed… The least said, the better the results.”  He adds as he gently presses her shoulder back, drops his hand away as she hesitantly thrusts her chest outward, the hollowing between her breasts separating the firm globes beneath the clinging material of the flowing gown as her shoulders arch back.

       “That’s better.”  He nods as he can see just the outline of the tanned curve of an areola, the silhouette of its nipple pressing against the plunging material.  Feeling his dick getting harder, beginning their walk up the steps, past the vacant posts to either side, he thinks, damn, she’d shit if she saw what’s usually mounted up on those for the ‘normal’ get-togethers with this fucking group.

       Reaching the top step, the double doors opened, the doorperson again a female motioning them in, they enter the foyer.  “Remember.”  He nudges her as he leans toward her ear.  “The sub missives are willing participants… Don’t act surprised… And for Christ’s sake… don’t act disgusted or nervous… Just follow my leads and don’t change expressions… Keep a stern look on that pretty face… Just try to simulate what you’ve researched for the past few nights to prepare for this… Remember… You’re a Dominatrix tonight!... Fucking act like it… Okay?”

       Glancing around the room, the last time most everyone’s eyes were drawn to him and his submissive, now just a few token glances from the group of Dom’s and Masters.  Obviously pre-advised by the Mistress, they know to keep low key, not to interfere with her private little games.  Approached by another of the Estate’s employees, properly attired, stoic and immaculate, he nods while pointing toward a closed room off to the side.  Following his lead, stepping past the dozen or so guests, they part as he taps on the door, opens it.  Stepping back a step, another nod, he shuts the door behind the pair as they face the Mistress, and her submissive kneeling at her side.

       “Glad you could accept my invitation.”  She smiles, glancing past him, toward his companion.  “Glad you could find time to come with him as his guest Mistress…..?”

       “Demi.”  He butts in.  “Mistress… Demi.”

          Stepping toward them, an obviously expensive diamond studded leash in her hand connected to the choker collar on the kneeling girl, he watches the familiar submissive follow along on her knees, her hands cuffed up behind her neck, otherwise naked.  Seeing her milky flesh, flawless, her waist now appearing, if possible, no more then eighteen inches, its obvious she’s remaining a pet project for the Mistress.

       Stepping within a couple feet of Demi, she glances her over with obvious approval as he catches a mischievous glint in her eye while she slowly steps behind her and gives a subtle nod.  “Well… My I call you “D” and leave off the formality?... You see… I’m the Mistress of the house and it would just be so much easier.”

       Glancing toward him, feeling the girl’s shoulder brush across her hip while being led on her knees past her on the leash, Demi follows his quick nod and answers in a flat tone.  “Yes… Yes that’s fine.”

       “Well then… Good… Then that’s settled.”  The Mistress smiles toward him, still positioned behind the reporter, obviously pleased.  “Then meet my playtoy… She’s going to be assisting us with a little exhibition later… Aren’t you dear?”

       Turning, glancing into the girl’s face, Demi realizes she’s quite pretty but still just a teenager.  Noticing the faintest of discolored stripes crisscrossing her milky flesh, her heart picks up a beat as she realizes it’s also all for real.  She also realizes the treatment the girl obviously receives. 

       “Go ahead… I’d like your opinion of those breasts!”  The Mistress offers before glancing down toward the girl.  “Go ahead… Be polite to our company… Ask her to use those titties like you’ve been trained to ask!”

       Watching the girl glance down toward her breasts as she thrusts them further outward, Demi can feel her own face flushing at the sight of the swaying breasts just in front of her, along with the girl’s response.  “Please accept my request to use my titties any way you desire… They’re offered for your pleasure.”

       Hesitantly glancing toward him, toward the Mistress, finally taking his nodding lead, she reaches out, cups the girl’s left breast in her right hand, almost jerking it away, she feels the warmth of the firm globe, the hardness of the puffy pink nipple as it presses into her palm.

       “Pinch it … Like this!”  The Mistress smiles as she reaches out, pinches, tugs the girl’s right nipple, forcing her to arch upward with just the slightest of a whimper.  “Give it a good pinch between your nails… She wants to feel the attention… She enjoys the pain now…. Go ahead.”  Letting loose, stepping back a step, she makes a point of keeping her eye on Demi’s hand, the girl’s other breast.  “Well?... Go ahead… You obviously know how!... You have my permission to abuse my slave.”

       Trying her best to play along, barely pinching, feeling the soft, yet firm nub of the girl’s nipple flattening between her thumbnail and fingernail, still feeling her own face flushing, embarrassed knowing the woman and him are watching her every movement, she almost has to force herself to continue.  Hearing the girl’s subtle moan as her fingernails pinch inward a little deeper, feeling sympathy for her, yet twisting a little harsher, tugging firmer, never having felt another woman’s breast before, she also feels something foreign to her own emotions, something strange in the pit of her stomach as the warm, sensitive flesh melds between her fingertips, the almost sensual pleasure of causing the naked girl’s body to noticeably quiver, respond.  Wanting to let go, feeling awkward, a flashing glance toward his quick nod and sternly frowning eyes urging her on and she forces herself to continue as if it’s just a normal thing with her.

       “Cup her other breast… Feel how firm… How succulent those teenage breasts are on that girl.”  The Mistress adds, still standing behind her back, glancing with a flash of a knowing smile toward him as she’s sure he’s obviously enjoying the whole fucking show.  “I know you want too… To explore her youthful, naked body with your fingertips… To enjoy the power over her to do whatever you desire with her!”

       Not quite as hesitant, but taking a noticeable deep breath first, reaching out with her other hand, she cups the free breast.  Palming, twisting, the sensation in her fingertips, even her palms seem hard for her to comprehend.  Not wanting to glance at his stare again, it’s also almost as the dress she’s wearing, the atmosphere of the room, the mansion, all leads to emotions she’s had no idea she was capable of feeling.  Pinching a little firmer, twisting a little fuller, watching the girl’s eyes remaining lowered in front of her even as her body lifts on her knees, even the soft, faint whimpers seem to send conflicting messages to her brain, even physically between her thighs.

       “Lift her up by her breasts… Enjoy their fullness, caress them… Then have her bend over until her elbows touch the floor above her head.”  The Mistress suggests, almost orders.  “Have her spread for you.”

       Tweaking the nipples, barely having to lift upwards, the girl seems to follow the Mistress’ command herself, rises up off her knees and allows her breasts to be manipulated as she stares toward the floor.  Quietly turning on her own as Demi finally lets her fingers slip away, bending, folding herself forward into an almost impossible position except for the most of agile bodies, her butt cheeks part as her thighs spread.  Legs perfectly straight, the tight rim of her rectum, puckered, glistens above the inverted slit of her spread vagina raising straight upward with the nub of her clitoris barely visible from the tight flap of her clit-hood as she maintains her pose.

       “Go ahead… Inspect her vagina, her anus… Probe ‘em… Spank them if you want too!”  The Mistress smiles as she again positions herself behind Demi, beside him.  “Spread those pussylips… Enjoy yourself with my sex-slave.”  She adds as she not so discreetly gently squeezes the bulge in the crotch of his trousers.

       Feeling the warmth again crossing her face as she stares down at the girl’s raised butt, her gapping slit, never this close to another woman’s naked body being exposed so obscenely, keeping her head lowered herself, she’s incontrovertibly drawn toward the girl’s most private anatomy, completely shaven, as smooth as an adolescent’s.  Trying to hide her blush; she gingerly slips her left hand across the girl’s rounded butt cheek as she lets the fingers of her right hand slide into the spread crack, across the moist, soft flesh of the girl’s circling labium.

Again the stirring deep inside the pit of her own stomach, the twitching between her thighs, she can’t help comparing the feel to the only other vagina she’s ever touched, her own.  Slipping a tip of a finger, a couple tips into the moist slit a knuckle deep, sensing the warm flesh quiver against her fingertips, the exposed orifice even tighter then her own, she can actually see the rippling reaction of the contracting sphincter muscles between the spread rounded mounds of the girl’s butt cheeks.  Brushing her thumb across the nub of the girl’s clit, it also visibly swells above the stretching orifice spreading around three inserted fingers, now two knuckles deep.

       Automatically slipping her dampened fingers slowly in and out, feeling her own parting lips drying as she breathes through her mouth, she lets the tip of her tongue swipe softly back and forth across her mouth in sequence with her manipulating fingers between the girl’s butt cheeks.  The sensation’s somehow comparable, she realizes, but then again somehow different as when she finds the times to masturbate herself.  Yet, she finds her own thighs pressing together, her own breathing becoming labored, her vagina tingling, almost aching to also be touched as she senses the girl’s body involuntarily yet appreciatively responding to the touching, the curling fingers circling inside her quivering vagina.  Pressing on, now disregarding her private audience, her own breasts rising, lowering with each breath in her confining dress, nibbling at her lower lip, she feels her free hand cupping, squeezing the girl’s but cheek as her manipulating fingers borrow even deeper inside the moist, responding orifice while rotating back and forth in unison.  The butt cheeks quivering, the girl’s legs trembling, Demi slides her thumb back and forth across the swollen nub of the girl’s twitching clit as she would her own just before climaxing.  Their groans intermingle, become as one as the masturbation accelerates into a steady rhythm.

       Glancing toward him, he toward her, both a knowing grin, they watch Demi’s fingers working the girl’s responding slit to the edge of climaxing.  “Enough!”  The Mistress nudges Demi, jolting her back to her surroundings.  “Don’t want her cumming before her exhibition… Now do we?”

Stepping back a step, perspiring, face flushed, an embarrassed glance toward him as she realizes what she’s been a part of, Demi cups her glistening fingers in her other hand as she just lowers her eyes, nods; obviously breathing just a tad heavier then when she started.

Reaching out, gripping her wrist, a quick smile and he raises her trembling hand toward her mouth, presses her fingers between her lips.  Watching her widening eyes, almost as if she’s in disbelief, he feels her fingers trembling as she sucks, licks the moistness off each finger one at a time.  Slipping them away, he smiles.  “Better then a hand towel, huh?... Mistress Demi?”  

       Glancing at the girl, allowing her to stand upright, and then knell in her submissive position, the Mistress steps behind Demi.  “You’re perspiring in your elegant gown ‘D’… Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”  Without hesitation, unzipping the rear of the gown in one harsh tug, she slips the straps off Demi’s shoulders, slides the gown down below her waist in a continuous firm motion.

       “Wha… What are you….?”

       “Hush…. Hush and relax.”  The Mistress softly responds as she slips the syringe skillfully into Demi’s neck even as she’s grabbing for her ruffled dress while trying to cover her bra covered breasts.  “Just relax…. Soon you’re going to be feeling the taste of a stinging whipping across those titties of yours when they’re bared!”  

            The room hazing as her neck stings, her mind fogging, still barely able to stand; she feels her clothes being removed, her bra, panties, and heels until finally completely naked, without a real struggle.  Feeling his hands on her waist, her shoulder, being led through a door to a stairwell, she feels herself almost stumbling between the pair down the flight of steps.  Hearing their voices, nothing really making sense as if every other word is a blur, she senses she’s being led into a large elegantly arranged room.  Arms stretched upwards, legs spread apart, she half slumps, half stands between the matching ivory pillars.

       Staring dazedly at the mounted cameras, the group of people entering the double doors, she still realizes she’s standing on a platform, naked and bound spread-eagled, the center of their attention.

       “Okay ‘D’…  Now the fun begins.”  The Mistress addresses her as she does a final adjustment on the bindings securing the wrist and ankle cuffs.  “You’re going to feel things you’ve never felt before… Be treated like you never were before… All on film… On tape… That we will keep for you indiscreetly… As long as you cooperate with us… Fully.”

       “Now… The stories you’ve been writing can be embarrassing to some very important people… Even some you don’t even realize you know.”  She continues, standing within a couple feet of Demi.  “Your accusations can cause serious consequences to high ranking people… Our little exercise with you for the next few hours is not only for punishment…. But to let you know there will be more if necessary… Also to remind you that you now work for us… Completely…. Oh!… And we also are doing this because we just like too… Obviously!”

       Stepping back, glancing over toward the young submissive girl being led in, she nods for her to be placed over by a corner.  Glancing back at ‘D’ she adds.  “Your little fun and games with her were also completely recorded… You looked just great masturbating her while she was bound and you were dressed as a Dom… Marvelous little tape of a missing little girl under your twisted control!”

       Glancing toward the group finding their positions, smiling toward him, she steps toward the vat beside the pillars, picks out a pair of brine soaked birch branches, neatly trimmed of bark and shaven into glistening round switches.  Handing him one, nodding toward the other pillar, she waits until they’re on either side of their spread-eagled guest.

       “Now… The injection has you a little disoriented… Even somewhat groggy.”  The Mistress addresses her.   ‘Not to worry though… You’ll feel every single flailing… Every touch of your naked flesh with the switches… You just won’t be able to respond quite so quickly to the pain.”

       Spreading her feet, positioning herself, The Mistress glances toward him, smiles.  “I’ll start… Maybe the first three or four across her breasts… Then you can add a few with me simultaneously… Okay with that?”

       “Ready?”  Turning toward the pillars, a sarcastic question with a sarcastic smirk, the Mistress taps the end of the birch switch across the puckered nub of Demi’s left nipple.  “Three… Two… One…”

       “Thwack!... Oomph!”  The switch bending, flicking, its tip slicing across the bottom of Demi’s areola, she grunts as her back arches, her fists clench.

       “That was just a light flick.”  The Mistress smiles.  “Oh by the way… You need to count… Go ahead.”

       Glaring at the Mistress through her glazed eyes, the jolt awakening her somewhat, biting her lip as she feels the searing pain pulsing through the already raising welt, she just shakes her head back and forth unbelieving the surreal past few minutes.

       “Listen…. I’m starting over… Until you begin counting, I’m still going to be on one.”  The Mistress again smiles as she taps Demi’s nipple again.  “Now… Here goes.”  Again flexing the birch switch, again snapping her wrist forward, the switch whistles through the air.

       “Thwack!... Aaaggghhh!!!… Oh Shit!”  Harsher, directly across the bud of the nipple, Dami more then moans, actually a hoarse scream and a curt cursing as she glares at her breast, toward the again flexing switch, through her blurry eyes as she realizes the bitch’s words were right, the pain really is harsh.

       “Oomph… Damn… One… One…  That’s one!”  She finally grunts as the second welt slowly rises directly across her flattened nipple.

       “There… Now that wasn’t so hard now… Was it?”  The Mistress smiles as she traces the second red welt with the tip of the bending switch.

       Glancing toward him with his switch in anticipation, back at the unblemished breast raising and lowering, she taps its nipple.  “Now for this one ‘D’… Right across the nub.”  Stepping beside her so the camera, the group can get an unobstructed view,  bending the tip slowly back just above the raised nub of the quivering nipple, she practically lays her chin on Demi’s  shoulder in front of her neck.  “Just the every tip of the nipple… It’s going to be quite painful but remember to count… Okay?”  Bending the tip further backwards, smiling as her cheek brushes Demi’s arm by the glistening armpit, she releases her fingers.

       “Thwack!... Aaaaagggghhhh!!!”  A harsh scream as Demi’s body jerks back, the Mistress twisting her head back, Demi’s breasts bounce, smack together as her fists clinch, her knees bow together.

       “D?”

       Hearing the stern voice, glancing down wild-eyed toward the blood dripping from her torn nipple as she twists, jerks in the bindings, Demi grunts.  “Two…. Two… Fucking two!.... Fuck… Fuck …Fuck!!!”

       ‘Now ‘D’… It’s time for both breasts together… Both nipples at the same time.  Turning toward him, nodding toward Demi’s welted breasts, she asks.  “Mind cupping her titties together, squeezing them at their base so her nipples spread out and I can get a good target?

       Not needing to be asked a second time, stepping behind Demi, dropping his switch back into the brine, he cups both slippery melons between his fingers and thumbs, squeezes while shoving them closer together.  The areolas, nipples spreading, flattening across the bulging globes, he feels her backside against him as he watches from between her hair and an up stretched arm.

       Stepping toward the side, laying the switch vertically across both breasts, tapping both welted areolas, lining up the nubs of her nipples, she again tugs the tip of the switch back as she glances into Demi’s tear laden eyes.  “Remember… This can be an ongoing exercise… It’s entirely up to you and how you decide to cooperate.”  The switch curls through the air, nipple high.

       “Thwack!.... Aaaagggghhhh!”  Another scream, her body grinding against his, her head jerks as he tilts his toward the side.  Gripping firmly on her breasts, feeling her heart pulsing through both, he appreciates the form of the Mistress, the mental agony she melds with the physical.  Enjoying the feel of Demi’s naked body, her perspiration soaking her naked flesh, he’s interrupted by the voice of the Mistress.

“Ready to team up on her tits?”

Picking up his switch from the vat, the moisture dripping across the floor as he flicks it back and forth a couple times, he takes his position.  “You take the right one… I’ll take the left.”  The Mistress suggests.  “A dozen on the count of three should get her attention enough to agree to our terms…. Ready?”  Watching Demi’s eyes widen, her stomach flatten, ripple as she twists in her spread-eagled bindings, her naked body beading, glistening with the bright red welts already across her flailing breasts as she feverously tries to frivolously protect them from the pair of brine soaked switches, the Mistress begins her count.

“One…. Two…. Three!”

         “Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack………………………..”   

End Part 12
         

TASKFORCE

A trip to France…Business and pleasure

Part Thirteen

His long awaited vacation has arrived.  It’s time to get away from the everyday bullshit; visit his recent investment across the pond for awhile before getting back to his trade of cleansing the city of its rubbish.  The good fucking news is he’s going to have a travelling companion tagging along.  Demi’s been coerced to accept an offer ‘she can’t refuse’ including traveling as his obedient companion to visit the vineyards of southern France for the next couple weeks on her own quasi work assignment, the emphasis being on ‘obedient’.  More then a subtle hint of the need for his services has also been bandied about while spending some time over there, something about some maybe not so minor and irritating problems that could be handled by his way of doing things.  Thinking that’ll just give him something else to do in his lax time, he doesn’t mind.

As far as Demi, actually, he finds she’s rapidly metamorphosed dramatically since her ill-fated undercover experience at the estate just days before, with her painful and humiliating initiation followed by an immediate, next day meeting behind closed doors with her newspaper’s prominent owner.  Having a couple of his close acquaintances present, even recognizable to her as part of the group that witnessed her treatment, she’s informed they’re both prominent, powerful officials.  The one-way briefing intimidating from the start, her fate’s sealed when they share access to her new and blatant underground triple x videos in her presence.  Explained their obvious legal and even criminal consequences, especially with the young girl, given an unconditional ultimatum, she realizes she can’t refuse and reluctantly agrees to the terms, the first of which is resigning from the paper and writing for another of one of his more discreet publications.  Promised to be fairly compensated when the assignment’s complete along with the promising of the destruction of the videos, she’s to submit a few private articles for their exclusive circle of select members.

The kicker is the second term, much more ominous and nonnegotiable.  She’s advised her initial assignment of articles will be on reporting on the functions of their society located in their wine vineyards in the south of France, a fist hand day to day account if you will on the training of a fresh submissive, with her being that submissive.  And, she’ll be under the tutelage of a certain detective also making the trip, as they emphasize the obedience and submissiveness to him she’s expected to abide by.

Chapter 34

The time’s come, sitting on the transatlantic flight midway over the ocean, her leaning back, restless beside him but now seeming to be that model of obedience, he glances down toward the vast blue water below the sparse clouds under the nearly full moon as his mind drifts over the past few weeks.  The last of the women handled, shipped off to their new obscure destinations, the crimes against both their devastated families will soon be tossed in with the overflowing pile of unsolved files, as they’ll obviously remain.  Now it’s about time for a little break, some R and R.

Glancing over toward her leaning back in her seat, just watching her head tilted away from him on a pillow with the plane dimly lit in the first class section, he smiles at the gesture of the club’s inner circle, his ‘gift’ for the next couple of weeks from them for his appreciated contributions to the society, his very own private submissive to share during the trip.  With a few hours to kill, he thinks, what the fuck.  Already belonging to the mile high club, maybe now’s the time to join the five mile club, he thinks, that’s if there is such a thing.  The plane sparsely filled and the aisle empty, he nudges her arm, taps her hand that’s lying across the armrest between them, might as well keep her busy.

       Groggily turning her head from lack of sleep the past few days, glancing toward him through blurry eyes, he slips his finger toward his lips in a sign to remain silent as he barely rises, slowly glances up and down the aisle toward the closed curtains at either end.  Reaching up behind her head, slipping the pillow further down behind her back, he tilts her forward, forces her chest outward as her hands remain on the armrest.  Another sign with his finger, this time across her lips, he slowly unbuttons the top button of her white silk blouse.  Watching her eyes locking on his fingers as her head tilts back against the seat, he slips his hand across hers on the arm rest, motioning for her hands to remain there.  Fingers again across her blouse, he gently unbuttons the second button, the third and a forth.  Watching her chest slowly rise, lower as the blouse separates across her French cut bra, noticing her fingers gripping the armrests even tighter, slipping his hand between the silk material and bottom of the lace material, he lifts upward, fully exposing the left cup.  Her head tilting hesitantly toward the aisle, back toward his hand, he slides his fingers inside the bra, tweaks her stretching areola between his forefinger and thumb and tugs her breast upward, outward as he twists.  Her back arching as she gently moans, her breast bared, he releases her puckered nipple, cups the firm globe, adjusts it above the stretched brassiere and outside her spread blouse.  Her bare breast totally exposed, it shimmers from the faint light of the moon reflecting off the portal.

       Cupping, melding her breast, tweaking the nipple as she remains virtually motionless, silent, he leans closer to her ear, whispering, nodding while still manipulating the bare globe, his words causing her to glance apprehensively back and forth down the empty aisle.  A momentary hesitation, she slips her right hand up across the lace cup covering her right breast and tugs it downward while arching her back further out from the seat.  Exposing her other breast, slipping the silk blouse further apart, down toward her ribcage, her fingers reluctantly begin tweaking that freshly exposed nipple.  Closing her eyes, tilting her head back against the chair’s headrest, she hesitantly but obediently follows his instructions, follows his lead  as she awkwardly  mimics the manipulations of his fingers on her other breast, tweaking, pinching, massaging, just as he’s suggested for her to do, appearing just a tad harsher even.

       Leaning back himself, head resting, turned comfortably toward her; he watches the quivering silhouette of her arched bare chest glisten in the shadows beneath their mixed pair of roving hands.  Pressing down, feeling the firmness of her globular mound thrusting outward, seeing just the faintest signs of the welt’s remnants from her lashings just a few days before, he’s impressed she’s become so submissive in so short of time as he slides his fingers from across her breast to up behind her neck, turning her eyes toward his crotch while using his other hand to carefully unzip his trousers.  Her lips are looking pretty fucking tempting too.            

Chapter 35        

       Leaving the plane, not its memories, he lets the young, dark toned chauffeur carry and load the luggage inside the trunk of the impressive Bentley limousine parked and waiting in front of the terminal.  Demi’s bra and panties still stuffed in his pants pocket from the overnight intermingling above the Atlantic, he still thinks she looks rather attractive after cleaning up the last half hour of the flight in the woman’s restroom.  Minimal makeup, her hair drawn strictly back from her face and wrapped behind her head in a harried but respectively formed bun, jacketless, the sheer silk blouse, brilliant white, contrasts nicely with her tanned complexion.  Clinging to her svelte body, it virtually forms to her firm breasts, not overly large but with ideal areolas and nipples, actually the kind that seem to make up for lack of abundant size.  Her black leather short skirt also tight, mid thigh, her fingers seem to reflexively tug at its edges as if trying to stretch them a little further down as they walk amongst the number of people using the concourse.  Four inch matching patent leather heels give the impression of her legs appearing impressively long, thoroughbred sleek even.

       Watching the chauffeur help her into the passenger side, smiling at the dumb fuck paying more attention to her almost bared ass as she bends across the seat more then anything else, he figures he may as well give him a little show on the way to the vineyards, after all, from the looks of the maps, it’s a good two, three hour drive through the countryside.  Sliding in next to her, leaning over her shoulder, whispering toward her ear, a quiet list of orders are given as the chauffeur steps around to load the trunk before positioning himself behind the wheel.   A couple nods of her head, even a hesitant groan or two during the one way conversation and flipping down the middle jump seat, she obediently climbs across it to face forward, toward the glass partition between the driver and rear seats.  Even while straddling, positioning herself, the Bentley slowly pulls from the curb.

Leaning well back into the leather seat next to the passenger window, out of sight from the outside but still able to reach out and touch her, he can see the reflection of the driver’s eyes in the limo’s rear view mirror as its adjusted for a perfect angle to watch what’s going on, her.  Flipping the power buttons to the rear door windows, lowering both, he mutters.  “Okay… Now.”  A soft command, almost a whisper, she’s given a gentle nudge on the back side of the skin tight skirt.

Again, just the slightest of a hesitation, she reaches down toward the bottom of her blouse and slowly starts up the row of a half dozen buttons as the limo passes by groups of pedestrians crossing back and forth,  more then a couple getting a glance inside at her.  Unfastening, slowly spreading the virtually translucent blouse as she works her way upward one button at a time, she also arches her back exposing her navel, her flat stomach just above the hem of her skirt.  The blouse spreading across her flattening breasts beneath her hands, just a couple buttons left, she reaches up and unbuttons the top one as she bows her shoulders back, the blouse stretching away, the final button tugging, stretching between her spreading nipples, the white silk material appearing either ready to rip or tear off that last button.

Lowering her hands, unfastening the side of her skirt,  raising her hips while shuffling on the jump seat, her breasts bounce, a nipple poking out from the stretching blouse as she slips the hem of the skirt down across her bare hips, down past her knees.  Slipping the skirt down off one heel, the other, she straightens, spreads her naked thighs back across the clinging warm leather, centering herself.  Gently swaying with the motion of the limo as it slowly maneuvers through the parking area, the mingling pedestrians, she glances down toward the remaining button as she arches her chest outward, slowly fingering, finally flipping it apart.  Letting her breasts jaunt outward as they cling to the fluttering material by the nubs of her hardening nipples, arching her arms back as her thighs part even wider, she lets the blouse slide down off her bare shoulders, clinging to the globular sides of her naked breasts swaying apart as the fluttering blouse drops down across her wrists behind her.

Flushing, staring straight ahead into the mirror, her eyes momentarily connects directly with the chauffeur’s taking in her surreal image as he stops in the traffic.  People crossing in front, in back, stepping between the mounting jam of vehicles get a look, some even seeming to stop, turn and even point into the open windows, staring toward the shocking, but erotic sight of her naked body mounted, straddling across the jump seat facing forward inside of the Bentley.  Finally, the limousine pulls away from the gawking, vocal crowd, onto the highway and toward the estate as the windows roll quietly upward.

A matter of moments, the ride now smoother, feeling her butt cheek unexpectedly pinched, giving a reflexive jerk, she arches herself forward, fully exposed to the eyes again in the mirror as her thighs grip the edges of the leather seat.  Her naked body already spread-eagled, her breasts jaunting outward, spreading across her quivering chest, a second pinch and she bows her body even further, revealing everything she has to reveal as she feels her blouse also being slid on down past her hands.     

Leaning back, actually appreciating her obvious humiliation as she straddles the seat, assuming her pose facing forward as the chauffeur’s eyes are on her more then the road, he glances over her nakedness as she attempts to constantly adjust to the swaying motions of the limo, her hands gripping palms down on the rear of the jump seat behind her spread butt cheeks as her body contorts, sways.  Realizing she’s to be used anyway he desires; he thinks just how damn enjoyable this vacation’s going to be.  If she only knew all the dark secrets, he smiles to himself; on the other hand, he’s not going to treat her like the other sluts, she’s just going to be for his personal amusement for awhile, help break her in for the exclusive club he’s become quite the center of attention for.  Various degrees of pain, that’s for fucking sure, but mainly humiliation, nothing physically severe or permanent, but more in step with how the Mistress abuses her sub missives.  After all, Demi is a rarity for him, not a criminal by any means.  Just too bad for her that she’s got that conniving cunt streak in her, and got on his wrong side, and that certainly ain’t fucking hard to do!  She can just keep that pose for awhile, until they arrive at the vineyard.

A leisurely drive, leaving the main highway, he’s impressed with the rural terrain, the winding roads, finally the guard shack at the gated entrance to the estate.  Watching the long sleeved coated men with shotguns slinged with straps across their shoulders, he smirks at the thought that a ghetto must be close by.  Entering the secured grounds, winding through the vineyards with what seems like acres of real grapes he realizes, for Christ sake, they really do make wine over here.

The Chateau coming into view, not an imitation, the real deal, its more like a fortress, though immaculate with the gardeners doing their thing, the acres of shrubs, hedges perfectly trimmed, shaped along the stone laid walkways, fountains.  Slowing, parking along the veranda in front of the entrance fit for a five star hotel, a doorman steps to the side of the Bentley, opens the door.  Stepping out toward the curb, watching the chauffeur step around to the popped trunk, he turns and watches Demi sliding out, head down, still totally naked except for her stilettos.

Almost appearing bowlegged from the long ride straddling the jump seat, glancing toward him, down toward her feet, she arches her shoulders back, lets her hands lay across her thighs palms out as instructed toward the end of the ride.  Bare breasts gently rising, lowering with each measured breath as she lets her lips part, her flushed face contrasts with the rest of her tanned body glistening in the sunlight as a number of the hired help pause and watch.

Fuck, she learns quick, he thinks as he holds back a grin, really enjoying her obvious humiliation as he watches her remaining virtually motionless with the exception of her breasts slightly swaying and just a tremor rippling up her thighs as she stands on the uneven stone footing beneath her.  Glancing toward the doorman, seeing the meticulous woman stepping out the doorway, he does a second take as she speaks.

“Welcome………… Don’t look so surprised!”

The tone of the voice even eerily familiar, but erotic in a way with its obvious French accent, he again glances toward the Bentley, back toward her as she steps toward him.

“We’re identical… In practically every way.”  She smiles as she reaches out a hand.  “She takes care of the colony while I handle this side of the Atlantic.”  Shaking his hand, a gleam, a piercing stare and she continues.  “Twins… And yes… She’s told me so much about you!... I’m fascinated to see the man who… Well… Let’s just say, has shown her pleasures she’s never experienced before!... Yet… Can also anger her so easily!”

Holy fuck, the Mistress has a twin, he thinks, amazed as he grips her hand, even senses her same unique fragrance.  “Let me guess… You’re left handed?”  He asks as her eyes narrow with an inquisitive smile.

“Well… Yes… How’d you know?”

“Just a hunch… An old myth about identical twins mirroring one another… Your sister’s right handed… You’re left… So with that being said… She’s kinda’ of on the Dykish side!... You?….”

“I guess then we’re not identical in two different areas then!”  She smiles as she gives him a slight peck on the cheek, lifts the back of his hand toward her substantial chest.  “Then again we are so alike in other areas… And by the way… She’s already warned me you’re such an… How should I discreetly say it?... Such an arrogant asshole!”

“Well… Thank her for me the next time you talk to her.”  He smiles as he lets the back of his hand brush firmly across her breast before twisting his wrist, momentarily cupping the firm melon.  “You’re right… There are similarities.”

Stepping past him toward Demi, she smiles.  “So… This is your personal assistant we’re suppose to help train, huh?”  Glancing her up and down as she’s remained stationary, she lets the back of her hand glide across Demi’s left breast, it’s flattened nipple as she adds.  “Looks like you don’t give her much of a clothing allowance… Nice shoes though.”

“She’s mine for the duration of the vacation… Yeh… To be trained for the society by you, too.”  He answers as he steps between them.  “New to her lifestyle… Needs some training… And I’m sure I’ve brought her to just the right person to help while we’re over here!”

“Certainly.”  She smiles.  “Let me have someone show her to her quarters adjacent to yours so she can refresh while I take you a nice little tour to view our little paradise… Then if it’s mutually agreeable with you… After dinner later this evening, we can start on her right away and I can impress you with my skills administering a nice little workout across those breasts standing out so nicely there for us to admire… And we won’t forget that tight looking little cunt too!”  She adds, tapping Demi’s shaven pubic area, glancing back toward him.  “You’ll be welcome to compare me to my sister.”  Glancing, nodding toward the help, back toward Demi, she turns toward the chateau.  “They’ll take her from here… Come with me… Okay?”

“That’ll work… Hopefully, I’ll get to compare you in more ways then one.”  He smiles toward the Mistress, following her.

Strolling into the Chateaux, she leads him through the first floor foyer, the vast banquet room, gathering rooms.  Glancing up the impressive staircase, her brief descriptions of the layout of the upper stories of the main house quickly explained, its corridors leading to separate wings of suites for the guests.  While down below, the other chambers in the basement, the sub basement, she walks with him as they pass antiques, masterful paintings, with the exquisite furniture filling the vast spaces leading to its ominous entryway.

“We like giving our guests, our club members the best atmosphere possible; after all, they do contribute unimaginable sums to our foundation.”  She explains.  “In return, they receive ample compensation with enormous latitude in fulfilling their pleasures… To a degree that is.”  Staring down past the stairway as they start down, she adds.  “The passageways divide below the first level… Separate areas for the nationalities of our sub missives… Seems the more popular group at the moment is the young American girls.”  Glancing toward him, a flashing smile, she adds.  “Seems Americans are feistier… Spunkier… More of a challenge to initially break in for our guests.”

A quick glance around the different hallways leading in different directions, starting down the other flight of stairs, she continues.  “Then of course, the old wine cellars…  Half their space is already converted into the various chambers, themes for our guests… From small isolated discipline cells to the lavish chamber that’ll hold quite a few at a time for our exhibitions.”

A slow stroll past the various rooms, up another flight of stairs, they’re again on the first floor.  Stepping into the rear gardens of the estate, a brief glimpse of the other outbuildings, servant’s quarters all meticulously maintained, she stops, turns and faces him.  Glancing around the grounds, gripping his hand, she stares into his eyes with a different look, almost vulnerable.  “I understand you have a unique way of handling certain situations… I think it’s even been mentioned to you that we may need the service of your skills so to speak… I’d certainly be grateful... And would want to show my appreciation………….”

Glancing around the momentarily vacant grounds himself, then into her eyes, he butts in.  “It’s been discussed… And yes, I’m certainly capable of helping.”  Fucking right, he thinks as he feels her warm grip as she leans against him, her breasts pressing across his chest as she gives him an appreciative hug.  Figuring she’ll show her appreciation all right… Down on her fucking hands and knees, looking up with her mouth open, her legs apart, he’ll show her more then just one of his skills.

“Good… Then we can discuss that little matter later… Maybe in the morning?”  She smiles as she leans back, grips his hand to lead him.  “But for now then.”  She speaks in her delicious French accent.  “Just what can I personally do to help you relax for awhile?… Your trip must have exhausted you… Come with me.”      

End Part 13   

      

       

       

           

TASKFORCE

Part 14

Chapter 36

The first few days interesting to say the least, besides watching Demi being worked out between exhibiting her sexual prowess with him, he’s found the Mistress also quite pleasant sexually.  And, he’s heard Althea and Ariel’s been a real pleasant surprise, especially when being used in a hot fucking threesome, they’ve come a long way in learning to satisfy men, and women.  So far, the only fly in the ointment so to speak has been the Mistresses’ problems with the arrogant, well connected asshole from the Ukraine who seems to overindulge sadistically with the sub missives, especially with American girls.  Inflicting pain and humiliation seeming not to be enough, he wants to go over the edge, wanting to maim and even worse with almost every visit, which has been nearly nightly for over a week.

Having a serious discussion with the Mistress, it’s been decided it’s time to protect the company’s investments from him, but with the Bolshevik’s influence, in a way not to include the society’s knowledge or to do it on the grounds.  Anyway, in the next few minutes he’ll be facing the motherfucker face to face as he’d already scheduled a session with the young American cousins that began some time ago.

Walking down the hall toward one of the last cells, its door shut but not bolted, he hears the sounds of the girl’s screeches echoing off the walls as he steps in front of the doorway, watches through the barred slot.  Both the girls’ naked, elbows above their heads, their wrists are cuffed crisscrossed behind their necks to wide, black leather chocker collars.  Perspiring, their glistening thighs, pubic areas are already discolored, bruised as they face off in front of each other as the burly Russian holds a thick strap in his fist between them.

“Harder bitch!”  His voice gruff as he scowls toward Ariel before glancing back toward Althea.  “And you… Spread those fucking legs apart wider… Push that pussy out and stand still!” Glancing toward the door, the unexpected visitor, he practically ignores the intrusion as he flicks the strap backhanded, forehanded.  ‘Thwack!... Thwack… Thwack!’ 

“Oomph!... Oomph… Fuck!”  Ariel’s grunt’s barely audible as she grits her teeth, the strap curling back and forth across her flattening breasts as she twists, bows forward unable to protect her exposed discolored melons, but then again, she’s the tough one.

“Kick that bitch’s cunt… And hard!”  He scowls as he points the strap toward the other girl’s trembling thighs pressing outward.  “Do it!... Now!”

Shaking her head, twisting her hips, Ariel kicks outward with her left leg, the top of her foot sinking into the puffy flesh between her cousin’s thighs. ‘Smack!’

“Aaaggghhh!”  Lifting upwards onto her tiptoes, shaking her head back and forth as her hair flails across her bowing shoulders, Althea’s knees twist together as she bends forward, her bruised breasts swaying beneath her.

“The tits now…. Quick, those tits again… Now!.... Hard, kick em hard!”  He screams in his strong accent, swinging the strap again backhanded.  ‘Thwack!’

“Oomph!”  Another flattening smash of the wide leather against her bruised shoulders and Ariel grunts from that blow as she quickly obeys, lunges forward kicking her right leg upwards toward her cousin’s chest.  ‘Thwack!’

“Humph!”  Falling backwards, slamming against the wall from the force of Ariel’s foot slamming into her swaying breasts, Althea slips, sprawls across the floor on her side, mumbles. “Ohhh!…. Oh God that hurts!... So bad!... Oomph!”

“Kick that bitch’s cunt now… Go ahead bitch… Kick it… And keep kicking it!”  Again screaming as he lunges toward Ariel, the strap flails, curling first across her naked breasts, then her bare back, then beneath her up stretched arms, flattening her bruising breasts again.  ‘Thwack… Thwack!... Thwack!’

Jerking, twisting, she can’t ward off the blows battering her already bruised breasts, her scraped back as she kicks her left foot outward between Althea’s spread legs, the top of the foot sinking into the tender flesh of her swollen vagina.  ‘Thump!’  Her leg rearing back, lunging forward, another kick, and another.  ‘Thump……… Thump!’  Kicking back and forth, the third kick the harshest; she slips and falls on the floor herself.

The hulking man sweating, quickly kneels, almost frantically grabs her by the back of her head, twists her hair as he slashes the strap downward between her legs, her swollen bare vagina.  ‘Thwack!... Thwack!’  Twisting her naked body over onto her backside, gripping the strap in both hands, he jerks it around her throat twisting, tugging.  “Bitch… Fucking bitch!.... I said kick the shit out of her fucking cunt!”

“Times up!... Times up!”  Yelling, jerking the door open, lunging toward the madman, he grabs the strap around Ariel’s chocker collar, the man’s wrist.  “Fucking time’s up!”

Glaring, the whites of his eyes completely surrounding his glazed pupils, spittle flicking from his mouth, the Bolshevik shouts back.  “Fuck you asshole!... Get the fuck out of here or I’ll fucking use this on you too!”

Gripping the strap tighter, feeling the strength of the obviously over the edge madman, glaring straight back into his black eyes, pissed himself, he emphatically orders in his coldest tone.  “Let go… Now!… Or I’ll ram this fucking strap down your Russian throat and yank it out your goddamn asshole!”

Silence, except for the girl’s whimpering, the men’s eyes lock as the Russian’s body trembles in rage.  Obviously never spoken to like that by anyone before, staring back like a frothing dog, his fists remains tight on the strap, his fingers twitching.

Staring him down, figuring another couple seconds and if the bastard makes the wrong move, fuck the chateau, the society, his fucking thumbs are going straight in the cocksucker’s eye sockets and jerking back out with a pair of squashed Russian eyeballs.  The adrenaline flowing, actually deep down kind of hoping for the worst, he senses the bastard backing down, the slightest of a twitch in his angry expression.

Letting his fingers flex, releasing the strap from the girl’s wheezing throat, the Russian slumps slightly back, face flushed with still the bad ass glare as he points a trembling finger, angrily mumbles.  “The next time you interfere… I fuck you up… Bad.”

Nodding with a slight grin, even a smirk, using more restraint then he even knew he had, thinking to himself the next time the fucking coroner’s going to be needed for a goddamn dead Bolshevik, he also leans back.  “Go get your fucking money back for tonight… This was on the house.” He speaks, slowly standing with the strap in his hand.

Also standing, a smirk on his face as he towers above whom he realizes is a fucking crazy American, he scowls.  “I fucking expected that!... You ain’t doing me no damn favor… Tomorrow I get this shit straight… You won’t interfere again when I use these sluts!”  Glaring toward the girls, he mumbles.  “I’m here for two more days and I’ll be back tomorrow… For sure!... And you’re both going to really pay the price for his fucking arrogance!... You’ll see who’ll protect you then!”

“If you come back… You have my word you can do whatever you want with whoever you want!”  He instigates the Russian, still glaring into the black eyes knowing he won’t be coming back.

Slowly walking past the open door, the Russian passes through the hallway, leaving the room behind, obviously pissed.  The girls leaning against the wall, bruised, drenched in their perspiration, both wide eyed from the threat, they remain virtually motionless as he unbinds their restraints, collects the collars and cuffs.  “Go to your rooms and clean up… And don’t worry… He won’t be coming back.”  He instructs as he stands, waits for them to get up, leave the room ahead of him.  Watching both hobbling, holding their hands down in front of their thighs, he sullenly adds.  “I’ve got some business to attend to now.”  Following them up the stairs to the submissive wing, letting both in their rooms, he makes sure he leaves the chateau before the Bolshevik; they’re both going to be meeting again tonight if the address the Mistress already gave him is correct.

Chapter 37

Waiting in the lakeside cottage, the Russian’s private getaway for visiting the Chateau, listening to the grandfather clock ticking back and forth, he glances around the rustic furniture, the paintings making up the asshole’s idea of his own little world.  Glancing through the bedroom closet, the dresser drawers to kill some time, finding some disgusting sex toys, the pervert’s sexual tendencies appear to swing both fucking ways, even kinkier, he’s literally a cocksucker!  The feeling deep inside returning just as it does back at home as the time approaches, he steps back into the living room area, waiting for the door to open, the motherfucker to step inside, into his private Hell.  Putting off ambushing him, instead wanting to show him just who the real bad ass motherfucker is, he’s going to give the Russian a fighting chance before doing what’s going to be done.

The car’s lights flashing through the curtained windows, the crackling of gravel under the bastard’s car’s tires, and it’s about show time.   The outside darkening as the car lights blink off, the footsteps of a single person steps across the front porch, the key scratching in the lock.  Standing in the middle of the room a few feet from the door as it swings open, he catches the instant glare, the look on the face of the entering man filling the doorway, half of surprise the other half almost of satisfaction as the door swings shut.

“So… What we have here?… A punk ass burglar huh?”  The annoying voice is even more annoying with the asshole accent.  Obviously recognizing his intruder, he smirks.  “Before I call police… I fuck you up!... Real good!”

Still silent he watches the Bolshevik smacking his fist into his other palm as he steps forward.  Thinking to himself, yea, right motherfucker, come and get it, waiting, letting him get just a little closer, the roundhouse’s telegraphed from a mile away with the asshole’s awkward lunge.  Almost too easily ducking the half-ass swing, automatically reverting into the old golden-gloves stance from his teenage years, blocking the blow with his left forearm, he slashes a short, forceful uppercut just beneath the oncoming protruding chin, but instead of a completely closed fist to easily break his fucking jaw, he aims a tad lower with just the tip of the stiff thumb of his clenched right fist, feels the asshole’s larynx crushing around his lethal thumbnail.

A grunting gasp for air, dropping like a rock, or more like a two hundred and forty pound boulder, both the Russian’s hands grasp at his own gurgling throat, the perverted bastard sprawling downward across his knees.  Eyes rolling back in his head, he’s barely able to kneel as he glares wide eyed into the shadows.  Coughing, his eyes twitching, widening, he gasps for air that’s not coming as the intruder steps slowly around him.

“Cocksucker… I’m not some helpless fucking cunt you’re tough enough to brutalize.”  He scolds as he knows he’s only got a few seconds to fuck with the piece of shit.  “You’ve only got seconds left… Just haven’t got enough sense to realize it yet!”  Grabbing him by the hair of his head, twisting it back, he glares into the dark eyes nearly bulging, the look of fear, of horror, just like all the other bad asses just when they realize they’re at the end of the line motherfuckers  and there’s not a goddamn thing they can do about it.  “You punk-ass… One fucking jab and your lard-ass is down there on the fucking floor… And you’re out for the count!”

Glancing around, seeing the phone on the table, grabbing it, dropping it down next to him, he watches as the trembling body slumps over on its side in spasms, blood tracing out both corners of the gasping mouth.  “Here’s the fucking phone… Go ahead and call the police!”  Knowing he can’t as he watches the twitching, also grinning to himself of the irony that he is the fucking police, he adds.  “And… Don’t forget the coroner too…. Asshole!”

Watching the jerking legs, hearing the final gurgling breaths with flecks of blood spewing across the prone body, he feels the surging deep inside again, the excitement, satisfaction of feeling like the kid of years ago, this time in the middle of the squared ring with another motherfucker flat on his back, the startled crowd not knowing how to react, a kid that young wasn’t suppose to be that fucking brutal, even in golden-gloves.  Then again, the sooner you knocked the motherfuckers out, the less you got punched yourself.  The secret though was to get them against the ropes, in the corner so you could pound the hell out of them for awhile before they could finally fall down or have the referee stop the bout. Yea, watching the ringsiders cringe from the blood spraying along with the flailing mouthpiece connected with a couple teeth!  Fucken’ right!   That made all the fucking sense in the world then, still does.

Then again, thinking back to all his youthful activities, seems he was always getting kicked out, his vigor for winning at all costs unappreciated.  After all, there’s that old saying’s, it’s not if you win or lose but how you played the game.  Fuck that, if that was the case, they wouldn’t keep fucking score, would they?!”

Kind of disappointed it only took a single fucking punch, the plan was to really fuck him up, inflict a hell of a lot more pain then that.  Shaking his head while shutting the door behind him, he slips around the side of the cabin and onto the Triumph Bonneville T120 C motorcycle he rode in on from the chateau’s garage, as they say, an oldie but a goody.  Coasting around the parked Saab 900, then on out the gravel driveway, putting on his black helmet he rides off into the darkness thinking that back in the states he’d be riding a real motorcycle, his Harley Night Train.  But invigorated, thinking it’s about time he can have one of his Marlboros, it’ll still be a few minutes as he realizes he can’t be leaving any fucking butts behind; besides, this little favor should be getting him another piece of ass as soon as he gets back to the vineyard.  Fuck, let the cousins heal up for a couple days and he’ll find out personally how good they are in a threesome.      

End Part 14

       

TASKFORCE

Part 15

The problem eliminated, another few days of at times leisurely sex while at other times not so leisurely, all while consuming an abundant amount of the vineyard’s wines and he’d even been invited to a larger then usual gathering at the chateau for a weekend of frolicking and debauchery before heading back to the states.  Demi reluctantly but obediently responding to her role, that mixed with a couple of frolics with the young cousins, it all just adds to the raw sexual relationship with the twin Mistress who would like to get him to stay.  He’s sure this will become more then just an annual sabbatical as he prepares to leave.

The trip to the airport, the flight back with Demi, the jetlag with the differences in the time zones, and they all add up to the last couple days of his vacation being spent alone, researching the next trash to clean from the streets.  While killing a fresh pack of Marlboros, digging deeper into the asshole’s background running the corner of the old closed grocery deep in the hood, he obviously qualifies.  Going through BMV, finding a deuce and a quarter registered to the asshole, it’s time to get back to work.

Chapter 38

The Beamer still at his disposal, the old work van’s more to his liking at the moment.  Fuck, it’s been a couple weeks and he’s actually missing this shit.  Time to cruise the hood, lookup the asshole on the old grocery’s corner, find him alone and see just how fucking tough he is, hopefully more then that punk ass Russian.  An after hours trip to the impound lot, swapping out for the van, and the drizzle’s threatening to become a real rain, everything’s falling into place.

       Two weeks, seems like months.  It’s already after midnight, still drizzling but actually picking up to a steady patter.  And, there’s the same punks, same scams being run as he drives through the heart of the hood.  Pulling toward the familiar intersection for the second time with his Elvis impersonating rose tinted, gold trimmed sunglasses on, listening, lip sinking to ‘Kentucky Rain’ on the radio’s am channel, glancing at his reflection in the rear view mirror, a mimicking sneer and he thinks to himself, yea, after all, when you’re cool, the sun always shines.  Ignoring his favorite cigarette burning down between his fingertips, tugging the navy blue skull cap further down across his forehead, the wipers slowly swipes back and forth across the cracked windshield, the smashed bugs smearing here and there on the streaking glass.

Sitting at the red light, he glances toward the rustic riddled awning with the graffiti smeared 10 cent coca-cola slogan, imagine that, a bottle of coke for a fucking dime!  How fucking long ago was that store in the building?  Damn, Marlboros where less then a quarter a pack back then too, he thinks to himself as he glances at the smoldering butt beginning to heat up the yellowish stain between his fingers before he flattens it in the overfilled dash ashtray.  Light changing, slowly driving through the intersection, he casually scans the area, looking for the Buick as he passes the punk and his posse.

Leaking, dripping, the overhanging dilapidated tin roof hanging off the front of the building’s still functional enough to shelter the group of wannabe’s surrounding the smug asshole with his hoes tripping in and out of the old grocery’s open doorway.  Fucking drugs being sold out in the open, the tramps openly plying their wares to any passing John with a buck in his pocket, and still, he feels that rush deep inside from being back home, working his environment while going through his second pack of five dollar Marlboros for the day.

Another pass-by and he thinks it’s about time to make it happen; sensing the obvious way to get to the shithead, she’s standing right next to the punk, apparently auditioning for slut of the month.  One thing’s noticeable, the piece of shit must have something for white girls, likes to keep one around, whore her up, dress her like cheap trash.  Yea, he seems to always have one close by.  This latest one with the dyed black hair, her not so big tits hanging out, the young cunt can’t fucking be much out of her teens, if that.  Bet her fucking parents must be proud, certainly gotta’ be a couple of liberal pukes, should’ve used their right to choice a couple decades ago.  Then again, clean the bitch up; teach her some manners his way and she’s going to make a lot of people happy, just like the rest of the unrepentant bitches he drags off the streets.

Circling from the other direction, scanning the area, finding the pimped out ride parked in the old door-less corrugated metal garage back off the street attached next to the grocery building, the license plate matches.  Shaking his head, he just smiles.  It figures, the fucking jumbo chrome wheels with spinners cost more then the car.  Now, finding a spot down the street and hopefully, he’ll just wait ‘til the punk cruises later tonight.

Circling, finding a spot in front of a fire hydrant just a half block or so up the street under a burnt out street lamp, perfect.  Parking, flipping the key to accessory, he turns the radio down lower as an early Elvis song ‘Good Rockin’ Tonight’ plays out.  The tinted shades actually cool, helping light up the dark, he again smirks into the mirror, pushes the rims up his nose with his thumb.  The van doors locked, his ‘Dirty Harry’ revolver on the seat beneath his crotch, he slumps lower back into the seat watching through the streaking rain water on the windshield, not wanting to have some punk fuck the night up trying to break in.

The rain a little harder, listening to the patter on the flat metal roof of the van, he holds off on another cigarette as it pushes two o’clock.  The streets emptying, the locals obviously afraid to get wet, god forbid it might wash some of the stench off their filthy asses, he figures he’ll give another half hour or so, but again, rain always brings luck.  Resting back against the headrest, he keeps his eyes glued toward the corner.

Another fifteen minutes, the movement in the shadows down the street, he sees the silhouettes of a couple people turning the corner of the building toward the old garage.  Rising up in his seat, a slight squint as he turns the key in the ignition and he smiles as he watches his newest favorite couple disappear toward the Buick.  Lights flashing on, the deuce rolling out onto the street toward the intersection in front of the building, he slowly rolls the van out from in front of the hydrant with the lights still off.  Shaking his head at the look of the punk’s ride, it’s even fucking gaudier out on the street.

The Buick turning left at the intersection, flipping the van’s headlights on, passing the now empty stoop of the building, he follows a few car lengths behind inconspicuously in the other lane.  Cranking up the radio, the tribute to Elvis marathon an all-nighter, he listens to the commercials as he bides his time, leans toward the passenger seat to check the open satchel.  The feeling exuberating, the hunt reaching its pinnacle, he knows its just moments before the shit hits the fan.  Out of the hood, onto the nearly empty rain drenched parkway, he tries to figure something out, to make sense of it.  Why’s parkway’s for driving, and driveway’s for parking?  That’s fucked up.

No traffic to speak of, an intersection approaching, the light changing to yellow, to red, he grins as the Buick’s brake lights flash on.  Fuck, the guy’s a law abiding citizen tonight!  Cranking up Elvis belching out the first lyrics to ‘Don’t Be Cruel’ as he slows the van, he lets the front bumper barely nudge the Buick’s retro appearing continental kit hanging out over its rear bumper, smirks as he watches the convenience lights flashing on inside the car, the animated driver swinging open his car door even before the vehicles quit rocking.

“Hey motherfucker!”  Jumping out, obviously pissed, his pants hanging down across his hips, the verbal abuse continues as he points fingers, twists his body around, almost resembling a caricature of a mad pimp.  “What the fuck?... You hit my fucking ride asshole!”

Flipping the van door open, stepping out into the scattered raindrops while sliding the Magnum inside the back of his waist band, he shakes his head while sliding the oversized shades up his nose with his free thumb.  The wailing music blaring from the van, glancing toward the syringe from the top of the satchel, having it ready like he’s done so many times before, he stutters.  “Dude…. Sorry dude… But why’d you fucking stop?... Thought you’d go on through!”  The voice his best hillbilly impression, seeing the bad ass glare from the irate asshole, enjoying it immensely, he decides to push it a little further.

Glancing toward the front of his beat up van, the wipers still scraping back and forth across the smudged windshield, he shakes his head back and forth, whines as the shades slide down the bridge of his nose.   “Hope you didn’t hurt my van, man…. I need it for work… I mean when I work!... Shit!”  Slipping the shades back up with a thumb, shaking his head back and forth, reaching back behind his waistband, he feels his fingers comfortably tensing on the .41 caliber revolver, just waiting for the next move.

More then pissed, the whites of his eyes, a flashing gold tooth or two contrasting with his dark brown skin, stepping, almost lurching down the side of his car, it’s obvious the punk thinks he’s fucking with a dumb ass white boy as he bends over to check the slightest of a scrape across the metal tire cover above the license plate.  “Mother fucker… You fucking redneck honkie!”  Whipping a short barreled .32 from his side pocket, holding a punk ass gun sideways like a punk ass would, he shoves it outward, growls.  “Motherfucker… I think I’ll just cap your lily white ass… Right here!”

Arm jabbing outward, his own thumb sliding between the cocked hammer and frame of the chromed steel revolver pointing at his face, at the same time his own .41 Magnum flashing out, shoved upward beneath the punk’s startled face, he forces him up on his tiptoes forcing him to bounce on the balls of his feet.  Catching the startled punk off guard, watching his eyes glaring, twitching, he pushes the six inch blue steel .41 caliber barrel harsher up under his jawbone, jamming it obviously painfully beneath his chin as he feels the .32’s hammer slamming against his thumb.

“Mother fucker?... Mother fucker…  You said?... You piece of shit!”  The hillbilly voice gone, the ice cold monotone replacing it, adrenaline almost oozes from his pores as he glances toward the girl ducking down in the front seat, probably shitting her pants.  Glancing back toward the punk, the cannon’s barrel sinking even deeper up under his quivering chin, he scowls.  “This being the most powerful handgun in the world… And can blow your head clean off… You’ve got to ask yourself a question… Do you feel lucky?... Well… Do you?... Punk!”

“Wha…What?”  The girlish squeal, the startled expression priceless, grabbing the .32 from the asshole’s fist, shoving the six inch model 57 Smith and Wesson even harder into the throat area, he continues.  “I said man… Do you feel fucking lucky with this bei…  Oh fuck it!... Step your ass over here mother fucker!”

Forcing him hastily back toward the van with the magnum under his chin, reaching in the open door, tossing the .32 on the passenger seat, grabbing the syringe in one swift motion, he jams it in the punk’s neck, empties it in one forceful jab.    

“Aaaggghh!... Ohh!.... Ohhhh……..”  Slumping, dropping to the wet pavement on his knees, quivering, spasms, eyes rolling, the rain keeps falling as he does also, his clenching fingers slipping from his throat as he slumps face first across a puddle in the street, eyes still staring.

Watching him drop, the thought humorously crosses his mind; the motherfucker’s last thoughts are of a fucking Elvis impersonator impersonating fucking Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry!  What a fucking way to go, especially if he’d done any recent drugs tonight!

Quickly stepping around the front of the Buick, he slams the .41 Magnum back down into his waistband.  Jerking the passenger door open, grabbing the slumping, terrified girl’s arm, he drags her from the car, to the side of the van.  Jerking the side door open, quickly cuffing her hands behind her back, grabbing the shackle bolted to the center of the floor, slapping it around her ankle, he slams the door shut, all in less then a handful of seconds.  Climbing inside the van, the song ‘Don’t Be Cruel’  blaring it final notes, he slips the rose colored shades up the bridge of his nose again with his thumb as he reaches for a Marlboro and presses the lighter into the dash.  Waiting for the lighter to pop back out, drawing on the cigarette, sliding the lighter back into its holder, he takes a long, slow draw as he glances toward the carnage in front of the van.

Shoving the column shift into reverse, backing up the van, driving around the Buick, its driver sprawled across the wet street, no longer in the state of mind to drive it, but then again, won’t ever be, he glances in the rear view mirror at the image of the sniveling girl laying on her side, curled across the tarp covering the flat metal floorboard as he drives the blaring van into the wet darkness.  Taking another soothing deep draw on the Marlboro as he takes a look for the first time at his freshly bruised thumb, he flexes it a couple times as he listens to another commercial break between Elvis songs.  Yea, motherfucker, look who just TCB, he thinks to himself, admiring the reflection of his smirk in the mirror as he flicks the rose tinted shades up the bridge of his nose.  E would be fucking proud, but then, so would Clint, even though Clint’s famous lines involved a model 29 S and W, a .44 caliber magnum as the most powerful.   Oh well, everyone has their own opinions.

       First night back on the job, the drive to the mansion and the girl’s already in a cell, stripped naked, bound and prepared with the ever optional ball gag.  Her slender body actually near flawless, again a couple half ass small tattoos, one on the hip, the other on a tit, she needs her ass kicked for marring what can be such a hot little fucking body he thinks to himself. Stepping around her with a Marlboro dangling from his lip, the barber straight razor in his hand, he slaps it back and forth a few times across the wide flat brown leather strap attached next to the columns.  Leaning toward her, the glistening blade in his clenched fist, he tugs her neck back by her jet black hair as he slips the shinning blade just beneath her earlobe, pressing against her jugular.  Feeling the thumping of her heartbeat through the hard steel, taking a slow, long draw on the butt, glancing into her terrified eyes, he flips the cigarette onto the floor as a trickle of urine spatters between her bare thighs.

       Trembling in her bindings, her dark eyes wide, darting as she feels the freshly sharpened blade sliding upward across her neck, she squints her eyes shut, both her fists and toes sporadically curling as her naked body tautly flexes spread-eagled between the columns.  She can only pitifully grunt through the crimson ball gag as the warm liquid drips across her shoulders, trickles downward across, off her heaving bare breasts as the wet blade presses inward, calculatingly slides up past her ear, the wet sharp steel pressing against her throat.

Her terror obvious at the sensation of the razor pressing against her flesh, he briefly smiles at his twisted torment of the naked girl as he continues, sliding the blade upward, across her scalp, crisscrossing back and forth.  Again he grins to himself as he sees she finally realizes her hair’s being shaved with the ominous steel blade as it continues to swipe back and forth, dip into the basin of hot soapy water.  Her short black hair falling to the floor in chunks, some strands sticking across her wet shoulders, her exposed scalp glistens, much paler then the rest of her twitching body.

       Taking his time with the blade, he continues with her eyebrows, what there was of ‘em, then obviously her pubic hair, even as it already was a bikini cut, and finally he’s pretty much done.  Stepping back, lighting another smoke, he takes his first real look at the girl’s naked body, virtually hairless, her slim frame a tad too slim, but her tits more then a handful each, actually larger looking because of her slenderness, and well formed and extra firm.  Her highly mounted puffy nipples pointing upwards from the globular appearance of both glistening mounds, he’s sure she can be beefed up, add a few pounds and make a nice addition for one of the Mistresses.

       For now, she can hang between the columns for the rest of the night; contemplate what she’s in for.  Stepping toward the door, flicking off the light, he leaves her with her thoughts while lighting his last Marlboro.

End Part 15