MODUS OPERANDI

The first of a bevy of stories to be submitted from the memoirs of Chief Inspector Lewis, retired.

A recently promoted Detective Lieutenant investigates a series of unsolved brutal rapes transpiring over a number of years and locations.  Their sadistic M.O.’s mostly all the same, and escalating, all involving beautiful young professional women while his partnering up with a female detective leads to a long and twisting tale.

                         ***THIS STORY IS BING SUBMITTED IN A TWELVE PART SERIES***

Part One

Chapter One… A cold case assignment

       Another twelve, thirteen hour day, working weeks on end with just an occasional off day thrown in here and there, Lt. Lewis, a recently promoted veteran homicide detective rummages through the cold case files, again spending an evening alone in his office, door shut, a single light shining down across the stack of cases.  Checking, double checking the files, comparing reports ranging back over ten, even more then a dozen years, the evidence is chilling, the emerging improbable suspect even more so.

       The modus operandi of the latest case from just over a month ago, the victim young, attractive, a professional, he remembers back to the eerily similar case he responded to back as a young beat cop.  Its weathered file also lying on the desk in front of him, he thinks back to the initial run as if it happened yesterday.  Early morning just out of roll call, dispatched to the heart of his beat, an area where he actually grew up in, he was sent to what had been an old riverboat Captain’s manor high on the hill in Tusculum Heights.  Remembering the wooden structured building being nearly dilapidated as a kid growing up in the neighborhood, now a renovated ‘painted lady’ reminiscent of stereotypical San Francisco properties, now split up into trendy Yuppie condos overlooking a distant but scenic view of the Ohio River, he remembers the scene, vividly.

       Dispatched to an unknown trouble run, a woman not reporting to work, her phone off the hook, the neighborhood’s quiet that morning.  Giving his signal ‘35’ while rolling to a stop in the crushed limestone gravel parking area behind the towering four story Victorian style mansion, finding the entry door locked, advised by the dispatcher the condo was a first floor unit, a few paces around the side of the house, and even today the image’s still fresh in his mind of the vivid view though the partially parted curtain inside one of the oversized floor to ceiling windows on its south side.

Thinking back as if he were still there, he remembers reflexively calling for a supervisor, a life squad, flipping to channel five on his radio, getting permission to break a window pane from a boss, all taking less then a couple brief moments.  Yanking the ‘PR24” from its ring on his gun belt, flicking the black titanium nightstick across the glistening pane even before given the go ahead, unfastening the latch behind the shattered glass and climbing in, he can remember his heart pounding, his hand on his police issued model 65 still holstered as he stepped toward the bed.  Its stark view still burned into his memory, the only sound the constant, annoying sound of the phone laying off the hook on the night stand, its recorded message over and over again telling no one in particular to please hang up.

       Seeing her hands flinch, her stomach hollowing, the room dimly lit by the sun filtering in through the broken glass, the sight of her nude on her back, bound spread-eagled on soiled, disheveled sheets.  He remembers her head twisting, bucking back into the pillow, the grunts from her closed lips, her eyes squinted shut, yet appearing to be trying to blink as she obviously felt the crisp morning air from the broken window fluttering across her naked and battered body.  Again scanning the room, the closed bedroom door, reacting on auto pilot, initially wanting to assist her, yet knowing he had to check for an intruder, whoever did this to her.  Quickly stepping toward the bedroom door, jerking his handkerchief from his rear pocket, twisting the knob, finding the door locked from the inside, returning to the bed, still reacting without thinking, just functioning with his training, scanning her nude body, quickly checking her for injuries while reaching for her wrist, he still remembers leaning across her, awkwardly whispering, mumbling something in her ear that he’s the police, that she’s safe, that he’s here to help her.

       Again just as if it were yesterday as he holds the file in his hand, he begins glancing over the investigating detective’s notes, the lackluster investigation of the incident.  Again he’s certain if he’d been the lead detective back then things would have been different, much different.  Seeing the still clear photos of the bed, her imprint still visible in the soiled sheets, the tattered duct tape still on the four corner posts of the bed she’d furnished the condo with in the proper style of the century and a half old mansion, he continues to think back to that day.

       Remembering tossing his police jacket across her for whatever reason, unbinding her wrists, seeing her jerking, lunging upright as he unbound her ankles, her body trembling as she crossed her arms firmly across his jacket partially covering her bruised breasts, clinging to it, mumbling with just unintelligible grunts coming from her clenched lips, her eyes still closed, what appeared to be sleepers covering both blinking lids, again the realization shocking as he watched her reach up, frantically scrape her fingernails across her lips, her eyes, her loudening grunts practically hysterical.

       Recalling grabbing her wrists, pulling her hands away, the reddish scrapes instantaneous across her face from her own fingernails, holding her arms down toward her sides, noticing the same tinted fluid in her ears, finally realizing she’d been sadistically silenced with something like glue, actually winding up being superglue.  The same solution in her eyes, on her lips, it became obvious she’d been stifled, blinded, and made deaf while bound naked and assaulted on the bed.

       Still sorting through the file’s contents, still thinking back as he reads the detailed timelines of the bosses showing up, the medics next, the girl carted to the hospital, he also remembers that in minutes a half dozen cruisers filling the parking area, the obvious stupid comments, the typical sick cop jokes, wanting to know if he had his camera ready, what she looked like, felt like.  Again reliving all the sordid memories of that day of finally the area being cleared with him left to secure the crime scene until the downtown investigators, the hot shots from violent crime unit could respond.  Remembering his jacket rumpled on the floor, picking it up, slipping it back on after she was transported, the scent of her naked body clinging to it, again, all just like it happened yesterday.

       Flipping through a few more police stills, seeing the shot of her dresser with several picture frames, one of her framed photos taken on a Florida beach in front of Daytona’s boardwalk, it was no wonder why the other guys seemed almost jealous they didn’t get the run instead of him.  Young, tanned, a model’s body in a string bikini seductively posing, smiling back without a care in the world, then thinking back to the stark contrast of her bruised and naked body stretched across that disheveled bed, remembering his adrenaline flowing from the uncertainty of the initial situation, not even sure at first that she was still alive, now almost embarrassed, he remembers later after she was transported by the medics just how impressive he thought her tits were.

       That case one of his earlier memories of being a beat cop, the incident fading from but not entirely escaping his mind over the years, shuffled amongst so many others of a big city cop, now after all this time, its come full circle as one of a number of cases for him to solve.  One of at least a half dozen or more with the same modus operandi in the use of the glue, but with their crime scenes scattered throughout the city, and over a number of years, everything else’s so eerily similar with young, attractive women being ravaged in various sadistic ways, all professional without a hint of a sordid past.  Still, even more eerie, the investigation seems to be taking him to where he doesn’t want to go.

Again reading her reluctant interview, her haphazard description of her assault given to the lead investigator, a guy ready to retire, counting the days, he remembers the detective’s nonchalant attitude when he finally showed up to the scene a couple hours later, like why the fuck was he being bothered with this shit.  Not even given the courtesy of him having a clergy or even a police woman present for her to talk too when he finally interviewed her the next day, just the typical, the facts ma’am, fuck being humiliated, just jot down the graphic details so I can finish drinking my coffee before it gets cold, he can just shake his head now, wonder how fucked up things were back then as he again can almost hear her voice as he reads the scribbled hand written statement.

       Following her description of the day, coming home, stepping into her condo, an acrid rag flattened across her face by someone waiting behind the door with latex gloves on, the stifling blackness of being blinded, nauseated, losing consciousness.  Raped, sodimized, flogged, sadistically clamped over the most discreet areas of her nude body over a period of hours, having urinated on herself in her bed, all beginning after being revived by another acrid odor of a capsule brushed back and forth beneath her nostrils, finding herself bound spread-eagled, her eyes, lips, even ears glued shut.  The dread, terror of just being able to survive, the tearing pain of being mounted over and over lasting possibly the entire night, seeming for an eternity, she could give no description of her attacker, not even his voice, nothing except how harsh, thick the penetrations of her were between the brutal floggings of her naked body.

       Skipping to the bottom of the inactive file, the now retired detective’s comments, he again shakes his head with the summery basically leading to one of her boyfriends more then likely did it as part of a ‘kinky’ sex session, all based on her supposedly uncooperative attitude, but in all reality, his not give a shit investigation.  One more manila envelope unsealed on the bottom of the box, a number of hospital photos, the shots of her bruises, scrapes across her face from her own fingernails, the look in her eyes after having the glue dissolved, swollen lids open but still remnants of the glue.  Again her abused body contrasts that photo on the beach taken just months apart.  Stuffing the photos, the reports back into their file, turning the light off, locking the office, he heads home for a few hours rest, alone, mentally exhausted.

Chapter Two… Partnering up with a familiar face

       The interview confirmed, having let Detective Sergeant Johnson accompany him, she brushes through the original file as he drives.  The ‘M.O.’ the initial case involving the super glue, the woman raped and assaulted, not a hint of the perpetrator’s identity available, she glances over the first victim’s statement.

       “Well Lew.”  Detective Johnson nods as she glances toward the open file on her lap.  “I guess I should thank you for involving me in this investigation you’ve decided to take over, huh?... By the way, how’d you get me freed up for this?”

       “Hey,” he nods back as she continues reading the report, shuffling through some police stills of the crime scene.  “I thought it could help give you a more rounded background as an investigator supervisor, besides, I need a buffer talking to those women about this shit, don’t you think?... At least, that’s what I passed across the Chief, and he obviously agreed.”

       “So you picked me, huh?”  Another half smile on her face as her eyes become transfixed on some various photos from a stack taken at the hospital.  Vivid shots of the victim’s naked body, of her accumulated bruises, tape burns across her wrists, ankles, the harshest marks’ across her bare breasts as she shuffles through the stills.  Shuffling, there’s a couple more close-ups of the still present groves of indentations embedded in her discolored nipples and areolas standing out in the color photos from a lengthy session with serrated clover clamps, clamps left at the scene along with the rest of his sex toys including a couple of obscenely huge black dildos he’d used repeatedly on her.  Flipping open the other photo envelope of stills taken at the crime scene, she nudges him across his thigh with a flick of her wrist as she mumbles, “Holy shit, this girl really got worked over, didn’t she?”  Glancing at the array of items aligned for that set of photos, the pitch of her voice rises.  “You see these fucking dildos he crammed inside her?... Fuck me!”  Flipping through the stills, finding the photo of the set of Japanese clover clamps, holding it up, she glances toward the serrated tongs. 

Glancing briefly toward her while trying to stay attentive to the downtown traffic, he just slowly shakes his head, can’t help noticing her nipples hardening beneath her braless white blouse as her left hands’ softly cupping her right breast, her thumb gently circling the silhouette of the hardening nub as her chest arches outward.  Her fingernail and thumbnail closing, pinching through her blouse as a couple of the top buttons unsnap, glancing back and forth toward the road, he can’t help watching her little act as she’s obviously getting turned on by the photos while she quietly tugs at her nipple without the slightest embarrassment.  Her body still tight, her nearly bare tits obviously still firm, he thinks of a few years back when they worked an auto robbery task force together in the Madisonville area for a little over a month before their promotions to Sergeant.  The two of them paired undercover with a uniform backup available if needed, the ‘power shift’ of eight at night till four in the morning, the six weeks led to some interesting moments.

       “Whatcha’ thinking of Lew?... Huh?”  She smirks, glancing over, a noticeable grin on her face as she catches him glancing down through her parting blouse at her bare breast.  A face still young enough, and pretty enough to draw plenty of attention as she lets her fingers slip away from her blouse, buttoning a button, she asks, “Remember back to that auto theft task force the first time we were teamed up?...  Those were some interesting nights, weren’t they, huh?”

       “Damn, Jessica… Huh?... Huh?... Huh?”  He smirks as he watches her stacking the photos together on her lap, taking another long look at a full frontal view of the victim’s naked body, her arms raised, legs spread showing where she’d been abused.  Slowly shaking his head back and forth as he again focuses on the street, he mimics her again.  “Huh?... Huh?  That all the fuck you can say?”

       “Huh?... Not really.”  A girlish grin as she drops the envelope on the seat between them, a reach across, her hand slipping up across his right thigh, fingers brushing, flicking at his trousers as she glances playfully toward his crotch, she gently taps her fingers before flattening her hand across his thigh and leans closer toward him.  “I can still hum pretty damn good, too!”

       “I bet!”  The obvious flirtation, still glancing out over the steering wheel as she presses closer, the sense of her touching him brings back the memories even more vividly, especially of the night in the parking lot down at Annie’s, the hard rock bar with off duty police details down by the river.  Recollecting back to that assignment as the buildings flick by on the outskirts of the city, leaving the downtown area, he thinks back, back to just a couple nights into that taskforce, back to Annie’s parking lot.  Close to closing time for the nightspot, the Madisonville area dead with nothing happening, he remembers how they cruised down to bullshit with some of the off duty uniformed detail working the lot at the east side club.

       The thoughts of pulling in from the street, the dimly lit lot full of cars, the three man detail hanging out just inside the open doors to the club’s entrance, he recalls Johnson sliding over next to him across the bench seat of the old undercover Buick after flipping the arm rest up out of the way.

       “We’re undercover, have to look right.”  He remembers her grinning, practically snuggling against him as she giggled.  “You gonna’ put your arm around me?... Huh?”

       Recalling pulling over to the side, actually the darker part of the lot, parking facing the far corner of the front of the building behind another couple cars, he remembers the playful nudge, her breath on his neck, her hand flattening across his thigh, her teasing voice.  “Come on, we’re undercover, at least act like we’re making out damn-it.”  The acting would have won an Oscar, especially when her head dropped below the dashboard and her moist lips sucked his cock into her mouth across her flicking tongue after ripping his zipper partially open.  That was the start of nearly six weeks of their task force partnership and relationship.  It was also just a few days before he heard the rumors of her being a sex addict, even seeing the division’s shrink more then a couple times for her problem.  Then again, he did a lot of thinking with his dick back in the day, back when a guy who got laid with frequency was a stud, a girl with more then one man was a slut.

       “Remember Annie’s club that first night?”

       Her voice breaking his thoughts along with the feel of her roving fingers probing between his legs, he’s somehow not surprised that her minds’ on the same wavelength as his.  “Yep, yea sure I remember,” he quietly answers, an octave or so higher as he feels her fingers slipping further between his thighs, curling around his hardening shaft.  “That was the start of an interesting six weeks,” he grunts, “what?... We wound up doing it about everyway imaginable after that… Damn, practically every night too.”

       “Yea, imagine if we’d got caught that night by one of the detail,” she practically whispers as she gives a brisk squeeze with her tensing fingers while sliding closer.  “We must have been crazy, think of the trouble we’d have been in for me giving you a head job on duty!... We know better now, don’t we?”

       Barely listening to her voice, feeling her fingers gripping, stroking through the trouser’s material, he senses her hand squeezing even firmer, her fingernails pinching the engorging crown of his cock.  “Damn, Jessica!”

       “What?... You don’t still like me playing with your dick anymore?… Fuck, I can feel the big ‘ol thing swelling in my hand, just like that very first time,” she grins as she leans the rest of the way across the seat, unzips his fly on down with her free hand.  “It’s been too long, huh… Just like old times, okay?”

       Head lowering, her moist lips encircling his throbbing shaft, her tongue flicking, teeth nibbling, he keeps both hands on the wheel, fingers gripping firm while her head presses between his stomach and the bottom of the tilt steering wheel as he reflexively flips it up a couple notches.  Her brown hair spreading, flowing across her shoulders, fingers stroking, head bobbing, each sucking sensation followed by the pinching sensation of her teeth grinding across the pulsing crown of his throbbing shaft, he feels her head lowering, raising, her mouth, her throat consuming his entire cock, the sucking sensation drawing his pre-cum from deep inside his groins as she quietly grunts, moans, twists her neck sensually back and forth, back and forth in a steady rhythm while her fingernails tickles his scrotum, definitely just like old times he thinks to himself as he explodes his wad inside her mouth.

Chapter Three… The first interview

       A half hour drive or so, the extra curricular activity concluded, not a drop on his trousers, they arrive at the address of the first victim close to their appointed time.  A better then average neighborhood, a discreet condo, decorative wrought iron bars encasing the first floor windows, a matching gate at the entrance, the security camera points down toward the entry.  Ringing the bell, Detective Johnson holding her I.D. toward the camera’s lens, a woman’s voice directs them to open the gate as the buzzer sounds.

       Greeted by the thirty-something woman, he realizes she’s still more then attractive. Conservatively dressed, her sight brings back the memories of her being duct taped across the bed that day.

       “I’m Lt. Lewis, this is Sgt. Johns…….”

       “Lewis… Lewis, you… You couldn’t be the… The one who found me that morning.  Are… Are you?”

       Seeing her eyes glancing him over, slowly nodding back, just a nod in response as he watches her hands fold together, her fingers interlock in front of her, he waits in silence as she breaks a hint of a forced smile.

       “You shouldn’t be too embarrassed, I’m not anymore,” she quietly speaks.  “You put your jacket over me, you untied… You whispered I was safe from what I could hear… You held me… Remember?”

       “Ye… Yes ma’am… That was a long time ago.”

       “I’ve never really thanked you… Lew… Lieutenant… Is it now, Lieutenant Lewis?”

       “Yes ma’am… And… And this is Sergeant Johnson,” he answers, nodding toward his partner standing beside him.  “She’s investigating these cases with me now.”

       “Sergeant Johnson, huh?”  She asks, glancing toward her, inquisitive in her tone, her expression not as polite.  “Have we ever met Sergeant?”

       “Wouldn’t think so… Never got a ticket from a woman cop before have you?”  A half hearted joke, an awkward glance toward the woman’s stern stare, back toward Lt. Lewis, finally giving an uncomfortable half smile, she watches the woman turn toward him.

       “How can I help you now, Lieutenant?”

       “Some cases have been assigned to me,” he answers, “We’ve reopened several, dating back to your… Your experience.”

       “I’ve heard rumors there’d been others,” she nods, still standing, fingers still tightly interlocking, her voice a little sharper.  “Sorry… Sorry but there’s nothing I can add…. Except I’ve relived that night a thousand times over and over in my nightmares.”

       “Sorry,” his tone quiet, the situation uncomfortable, he glances toward Johns, back toward the woman.  “I… I thought if there was anything at all you may have remembered, even thought of… I could let you speak with the Sergeant here in private… You know, without me… Me or another man around.”

       “Oh,” she smiles, “I understand, and thank you Lieutenant. It’s a shame you weren’t the investigator back then, isn’t it?... It was all quite embarrassing… Very humiliating even with the detective, as I recall.”

       “Well… We just wanted to touch base with each victim… Just in case, you never know,” he speaks, almost awkwardly, “Just one break and we might catch the man responsi…..”

       “Or woman… Lieutenant!”  She breaks in, glancing back and forth.  “Yes, or a woman, I said… You never know, now do you?”

       “Why would you say that?”  He nods, glancing inquisitively back toward Johnson, again back toward the woman, obviously taken aback by the comment.

       “Oh, no firm reason like you would want, just intuition maybe, nothing else I suppose,” she adds as she glances toward Sgt. Johnson, their eyes locking.  “Women can be quite capable of doing things you wouldn’t expect, isn’t that right Sergeant?… It is Sergeant Johnson, right?... But until you’re in my shoes, you have no idea how that felt, how I could have been expected to concentrate on anything but surviving… Take my place just one time why don’t you?”  Still glaring toward Sgt. Johnson, she continues, “Yes, that’s right, if you’re really so concerned, want to know why I can’t be any more helpful with the details, why don’t you let yourself be stripped naked and tortured like I was… Raped and beaten repeatedly… Then you’d really know how I felt… Maybe know how to help me remember something that you’re looking for to solve these cases, that’s if you really care like he does!”

       “Well,” Lt. Lewis breaks in as he reaches for the door handle, slowly pulling the door open.  “Just thought we’d let you know we’re again working to find the perpetrator.  We’ll keep you informed of any new developments.”

       “Thank you Lt. Lewis,” she smiles with a different tone, ignoring Johns.  “Thank you for everything, I mean it… If you do find out anything after all this time, let me know if I can help you!”  A smile, actually still quite beautiful, yet the unmistakable haunted looks’ still in her eyes.

       Leaving the condo, the door shutting, the sounds of a couple deadbolts obviously locking behind it, a glance toward one another, he slides behind the wheel, slowly shaking his head as they shut the car doors simultaneously.  “What the fuck’s with that between the two of you?”

       “Guess she doesn’t like women cops or something… Don’t know what her problem was.”

       “Sounded like she was chastising you,” he offers, “almost daring you to go through what she went through… Christ sake!”

       “Yea… Yea, but know what?... That might not be such a bad idea… Maybe she’s got a point.”

       “What?”  Glancing over toward Johns, again taken aback by the unexpected comment, he shakes his head back and forth.  “What ye’ mean, she’s right?... You don’t know how she feels?”

       “Think about it, more then that, didn’t you hear me?”  She answers, a hint of almost excitement in her voice, “now hear me out, don’t make any rash decisions until you hear me out, okay?”

       An interested nod, waiting for a response, he pulls into the traffic.  “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Okay… Maybe… Just maybe if I actually did experience what she went through… You know, maybe be tied up, the same things done to me… Yea, have the things done to me like she had,”  Her voice almost forceful, each word clear, crisp, she continues, “if we actually acted out one of the abductions, hers even, maybe I could find something useful, something that could help us.”

“What the Hell you talking about?... Tied up, raped by some guy?... What the fu……..”

“See… I told you to hear me out damn-it,” she scolds, turning toward him, animated. “Listen, if you, you did the things he did, you know, the same things to me he did to her…………”

“Jessica!”  Glancing toward her, the thought crazy, insane, yet just the thought of her suggesting something so outrageous stirring feelings deep inside his groins at the same time, the thought of seeing her like he found the first victim, to actually do the things to her naked body like the actual case, the thoughts’ surreal as he shakes his head, laughs.  “You’re fucking with me you asshole, seeing how far you can string me along… Okay that’s funny, now knock the shit off!”

”Bullshit!”  Twisting on the seat, reaching out, her hand patting across his thigh, her voice almost racing, she continues, “Listen, They weren’t that seriously hurt, you wouldn’t really hurt me any more then they were… I can take as much abuse as they did… Except one thing though, instead of superglue, that’s fucking out, just put one of those bondage hoods across my head, my face, close the flaps; it’d be the same thing!”

Almost running through, barely stopping for a red-light, seeing the look in her eyes, the excitement, almost eagerness, he again shakes his head as he notices the silhouettes of her nipples hardening through her blouse even as he mutters, “you can’t be fucking serious, can you?”

“Really, let’s do it!”  She nods, squeezes his thigh for emphasis.  “Let’s spend an entire night, Hell, tonight even… It’s Friday, I’m off the weekend… Tonight would be perfect, just you and me!... Let’s reenact the first crime, hers.   We’ll do the same things… The crime scene… We’ll follow it like a script… Exactly the same, you can even fuck me just like she was, and we’ll see where it leads too; see if she’s right, okay?”

More then just the stirring in his stomach, feeling his cock stiffening, the added sensations of her fingertips brushing across its swelling crown through his trousers, he almost struggles for words, still the hint of a doubt, the chance she’s pulling his leg.

“Lew… I’m serious… Treat me just like her, I mean it, the whole nine yards!... Fuck; you can really get into it…. And with a little added bonus for you if you agree!... Remember, they had anal penetration too!... I’ll let you do it all!... And I mean all… I’ll really concentrate on being the victim… Trust me on this.”  Glancing down toward the files, shuffling across a couple of the yellowing envelopes with her free hand, her voice lowers as she volunteers, “Listen, I know where to get the stuff we’ll need, okay?... Agree?”

Hearing her almost begging, he feels his manhood swelling between her circling fingers stroking through the pant leg. “I’ll pay for the stuff, buy it myself, today,” she adds, “Let’s go to the shop; it’s only fifteen, twenty minutes from here!... Turn around!”

“You want to buy the stuff like left at the crime scenes?”  He asks, feeling her fingers stroking back and forth between his spreading thighs.  “You really know a place to get that kind of stuff?” 

“Sure!... Just like in these photos,” She smiles while staring into his unbelieving eyes as she holds up a manila envelope of stills.  “Come on, make a u-turn right here, I’ll show you.”

Chapter Four… The sex shop

       Slowing, stopping in front of the typical, gaudy adult store, parking in the ‘no parking zone’ Detective Johnson sorts through the photos of the sex devices.  “Okay, this the place Lew, don’t be embarrassed, check it out with me,” she nods as she steps from the car, flips the visor down with the police I.D. in view.  “Come on, I know we’ll be able to fill the list in here, believe me!”

Following behind her, the bell jingling as the door swings open, the business hours sign swings back and forth flicking off the smoke stained glass.  The isles narrow, the shelves stuffed with magazines, adult paraphernalia, he continues to follow as they make their way directly toward the rear of the store, to the glass enclosed showcases along a curtained wall.  A couple customers milling about toward the front with the lone store employee, the rows of clamps, Wartenberg pinwheels, leather crops fill the display stands resting atop the cases.

       “This is where we’ll find everything we’ll need,” Johnson nods as she begins rummaging through the paraphernalia.  Sorting across, picking up a singular clover clamp, squeezing its curved handles, watching the chrome tongs spread apart a couple times, she glances around the empty isles.  “Whatcha’ think Lew?... Think it’ll do the job?”  Cupping the bottom of her breast with one hand as she glances down, slipping the spreading tips across the outline of her nipple pushing outward on her blouse, she lets the tongs squeeze shut. “Oomph!... Damn that’s tight,” she groans as she lets her hands slip down toward her waist.  Thrusting her chest outward, kinda’ shaking her shoulders back and forth, the clamp glistens, jiggles off her swaying breast.  “Oh yea!… I think it’ll sure do the job on my titties when they’re bare, don’t you?

Just watching her doing her unexpected thing, the sight’s incredibly erotic to him, even the whining sound of her voice, almost a girlish tone as her eyes remain fixed down at her clamped nipple while she turns toward him, thrusting her breast out as she mutters, “go ahead, feel how tight it is.” 

Watching her nibbling across her lower lip, the top couple buttons of her blouse open, the low cut lace bra hoisting her breasts upwards even visible as he reaches out, fingers the clamp, gives it a slight tug.  Feeling the resistance of her breast stretching outward in the tong’s grip, giving a gentle twist, he smiles at the sight of her tiptoeing, thrusting her breast even further outward, her other nipple noticeably hardening beneath her stretching blouse.  “Like the feel Jessica?... Now want to feel it on your other nipple?”  He finds himself asking as he can’t resist the temptation, twists the clamp a second time before unclamping, slipping it away from the impression left on her blouse.

“Umph!... Damn that sends chills down my spine,” she answers, reaching up, rubbing her tingling nipple with one hand while pressing her other hand against his.  Lowering the clamp down between her thighs, she glances around again, whispers, “Let’s try it down here instead.”

Gripping the clamp, spreading its tongs, she presses it up against the camel toe of her tight slacks.  Letting it spring shut, the tongs burrowing between her thighs, she reflexively tiptoes again as she just as quickly drops her other hand between her legs.  “Damn… Damn that hurts already!... I can just imagine what it’s going to feel like when you’ve got me spread out across the bed and clamping my bare clit,” she nods as she just as quickly squeezes, releases the tongs.  Holding it up between them, watching it glisten as she slowly twirls it between her fingers; she glances over toward a trio of clamps on the ends of leather straps lying on the counter, even more painful looking with their serrated tongs.

“Here’s three of ‘em, all connected, and serrated,” she nods as she reaches across the counter, picks up the set.  “These are more like it… They’d really do the trick against my bare skin, wouldn’t they?... Here, take one, whatcha’ think?... They really look painful!”

Watching him squeezing one of the clamps, the rows of sharp, shiny metal grooves pressing together as he lessens the tension, she carefully drops the singular clamp back down on the display counter as it clanks against the glass.  Slowly cupping her breasts, silently shaking her head back and forth, tweaking both nipples between her fingertips, she reflexively presses her thighs together as she begins to softly moan, her eyes fixed on the glistening clover clamp opening, shutting, opening again and again in his hand.

“Don’t think you could handle ‘em Jessica?”  He asks, watching her eyes becoming an almost distant, glazed look as her lips barely part. “Well, could you?... They look exactly like the ones used on our last victim, you know.”

“Yea… They… They look a lot harsher in your hand, don’t they?”  She nods, still cupping but now gently squeezing both breasts.  “I can just imagine how they’d feel.”

“Well, up to you, want ‘em?... Or want to forget about it?”

“Ye… No… I… I mean yeh, yeh I guess so, if they’re the same… Yeh, get ‘em,” she mutters her almost confusing answer as she seems fixated on the other two prongs swaying back and forth off the ends of the dangling straps.

Feeling his adrenaline flowing, the anticipation of seeing her actually reenacting the abuse of the victims, even the look in her eyes right now, her transforming disposition, he wraps the trio of straps into a tight bundle, the three glistening prongs bouncing, resting together.  Glancing at the counter’s displays, toward an altered Wartenberg wheel, picking it up, showing it to her, she again just silently nods her approval, again gently tweaking her nipples as the rows of tips on the revolving wheel sparkle.

“That too, yea, that too,” she finally mutters, her eyes following the slowing spin of the pointed tips of the numerous razor sharp prongs as he gives the handle another flick with his wrist.  “That’ll be just close enough to replace the one in the photo… That’ll work.”

Watching her reactions to the mounting paraphernalia, her almost stoic expression, picking out a riding crop, a flat strap, he nods toward a shelf down the isle toward the front.  “Now, you sure you want the Dildos too?”  He asks, holding the accumulating items in his hands, again glancing toward her.

“Yea… Yea, just like the ones in the stills,” she nods as she steps past, makes her way to the shelf.  “I want them just like them if possible.”

Following, watching her stop in front of the display of scores of various designs of Dildos from smooth and oval to exact replicas down to the swollen veins and bulging crowns, he steps back, allows her to pick the pair of dildos she wants, even with the one seeming impossibly big, almost a caricature of a man’s jet black penis.

“Let’s get ‘em… Get outta’ here,” she nods, a carton in each hand, her expression almost instantly changing, almost surreal, like she’s picking up items at a drug store, her voice no longer soft, now almost assertive.  “We’ve got a long night ahead of us now, don’t we?”

“What about the hood, the bondage hood!” He remembers as he glances toward her.

“Got one at home, fits perfect!... Already own one!”

Following her to the counter, the emotions mixed, yet his cock stiffening, his stomach almost churning, he can’t believe what’s in store for later.  The thought of her naked, strapped across her bed spread-eagled and him doing the things to her that’s been done to the victims seems unbelievable, yet on the other hand, certainly intoxicating.

The clerk at the register, the counter an aged, stained surface stuffed with typical sex shop crap, he nods toward her items, rings them up one at a time.  Glancing almost lewdly toward Johnson, back toward the items with each ring of the old style register, slipping them into a large, plain paper bag, he glances toward Johnson opening her wallet.

“Who’s paying for these, mister… Miss?”  He asks, glancing from one to the other as the final price rings up while he places the last dildo in the stuffed bag.

“I am… They’re for me.”  She answers, staring him straight in the eyes.  “They’re going to be used on me tonight… Everything, while I’m tied to a bed… Naked.”

The items expensive, his double-take priceless as he waits for her to count out her money from her billfold, she shakes her head with just a few bills in her hand, mumbles, “Shit… I must have left the rest of my money on the dresser this morning.”  Glancing toward the Lieutenant, she shrugs, “Got a credit card or something, I’ll pay you back tonight, promise.”

Flipping out his wallet, the good ol’ police credit union debit card, he can’t help smirking, “You better or I’ll be getting my money’s worth tonight.”

The door creaking open, the bell jingling as they leave, dropping the bag on the middle of the seat, the drive to her house begins as she lets a hand reach across the bag, rest on his thigh while she slips open a manila envelope, glance sat the graphic crime scene with her other.  “I think this should be worthwhile,” she suggests matter of factly.  “Yea, it’ll work out just perfect, from start to finish.”

Chapter Five… Reenacting the original crime

       Getting ready to restrain her to the four corners of the bed, seeing her fluttering eyes glancing into his, her lips pressing tightly together while he zips the flaps of the bondage hood shut across her face, he can’t believe he’s actually in the midst preparing her to be abused like the others.  Proportionately endowed, even on the athletic side, her fingers clenching, toes curling, her tanned, naked body spreads out in front of him flat on the bed as he begins the process of stretching the duct tape across her wrists and ankles one at a time.  Finishing just as the tape runs out, glancing over her spread-eagled naked body, he’s still bemused that she’s actually following through with her idea, having him do this to her, then to continue on, to treat her as harshly as the original victim of their cases, in just about every way.

       Sitting on the side of the bed, letting his fingertips glide across her naked flesh, his hands almost quivering while cupping her firm, not overly large perky breasts, he watches the nubs of her nipples standing out above her shriveling areolas.  Imagining the other girls, their terror, all stretched out naked just like her, he can feel the rush, sense the power as her stomach hollows, ripples beneath his roving fingertips.  The memories of finding the first victim, the two naked bodies not so dissimilar, he finds it hard, yet invigorating to begin doing the same things that the perpetrator did.   

Holding the leather connected clamps in his hand, reaching across her bare chest, cupping a mound, following the details from the case jacket she picked out; he takes a deep breath himself, jams one of the shimmering silver clover clamps deep across her already puckering nipple.  Holding it open as he senses her body twitching as the cool metal rests against he swelling areola, taking another even deeper breath, he lets the serrated prongs snap shut.

       “Oomph!... Ooommpphh!... Oooooommmmpppphhh!”

       The grunts resonating from the closed bondage mask burrowing back into the flattened pillow, his heartbeat escalating with anticipation, he grips her other breast, slips the spreading tongs of the second clamp across its bulging nipple.  Her naked body again twitching as her back bows, the first clamp jiggling from her swaying breast, he releases the matching chrome clamp deep on that nub of bare flesh.

       “Aaaaaaggggghhhhhh!!!”

His chest pounding at the sight of her stretched out, contorting in front of him, stepping back a step, he watches her naked body bowing, arching, her breasts separating as the leather strap stretches between the gleaming clamps twisting, jiggling.  Her tendons, muscles taut beneath her glistening skin, her thighs rippling as she arches, he watches her reflexively trying to ward off the compressing serrated clamps digging harshly into her areolas and nipples.  Waiting for her gyrations to slacken, knowing it won’t be long at this rate before he cums in his pants, positioning himself between her stretched legs, his throbbing cock standing practically upright as he drops his trousers across his knees, he slowly shoves the engorged crown between her trembling thighs, his latex gloved hands lifting her hips upward as he penetrates her spreading orifice no more then an inch at a time.

Watching her black latex hooded head twisting back and forth, the clamps jiggling on her tugged breasts, sliding his cock about halfway in, flexing his hips back and forth and picking up the pace, his stroking shaft plunges inside her vagina, deeper, harsher, his thick shaft stretching her vaginal walls, plying ever inward with each mounting thrust until his scrotum slaps between her but cheeks.

Flailing breaths through the mask’s flexing nostril eyelets, the black hood twisting back and forth across the pillow, her grunts muffled; he watches the third clamp bouncing across her hollowing stomach, its leather strap looped across her flexing navel as he thrusts completely inward one last time, holds his hips firm between her arching thighs.  Feeling his swollen shaft pulsing, her vaginal walls clinging, gripping as he squirts his load, he remains almost motionless for a few more moments, watches her stomach rising, lowering, her breasts twitching beneath the mounted clamps still jiggling upright.  Feeling her heartbeat’s pulse from between her thighs across his throbbing shaft, finally stepping back a step, letting his cock slide outward, flip free from the still spreading folds of her wet labium as his cum flicks, strings out across her inner thigh, he feels the rush, the stirring in his own stomach from just looking at her, her naked body spread helplessly in front of him, to continue to do with her as he pleases.

Leaving her alone in her spread-eagled position for a couple long minutes, her naked body twitching, bowing for some sort of relief as her fingers alternating flinch, clench above her duct tapped wrists, he again approaches the foot of the bed, one latex gloved hand spreading her moist labium, the other gripping, positioning the third clover clamp firmly across her exposed clitoris. Stretching the leather strap connected to the other pair of clamps, forcing the serrated prongs deep between the puffy folds, aligning the spread clamp upright, briskly releasing it, he lets his other hand also jerk away as he steps back.

Her animated gyrations instantaneous, her hips flexing, torso arching, lifting, bowing across the mattress, the trio of connected clamps jiggle, sparkle from her compressed flesh.  Again stepping away from her for a few minutes while allowing her to experience the pain, finally approaching the bed once again after her exhausted body finally flattens across the mattress, the brown leather barber’s strap flexes back and forth in his gloved hand.  Flicking, snapping its wide surface across her bare flesh, he begins her next segment.   Slashing above, across and below her flattening breasts, each echoing slashing of the limber flat leather causes her body to again arch, to twist in her bindings as the muffled grunts break the otherwise silence of the room.

Slowly circling the bed, systematically snapping the strap back and forth from between her shoulders down to her thighs, between her spread thighs, the flogging begins to leave reddened imprints in mounting layers as the trio of clamps jiggle, bounce in their taut straps.  Her naked body perspiring, her imprint soaks the sheets as the leather strap systematically strikes flesh in clusters of backhanded, forehanded flicks, until again, he steps back, leaves her twisting in the gripping duct tape. 

More whippings, more penetrations of her stretched vagina, longer intervals of being left alone, the soiled sheets with patches of yellow between her quivering thighs spreading beneath her, her naked body seems to tremble, to randomly shake at times, the clamps on her engorged nipples and clit causing their connected leather straps to stretch out, flatten across her glistening body.

The initial hours passing till well before dawn, leaning on the bed, carefully unzipping the back of the bondage hood, the stretching latex sliding up across her ashen face, he glances at her glazed eyes staring trancelike toward the slowly circling ceiling fan above her.  Lips quivering, slowly parting, imprints of the mask lining her reddened, damp face, she noticeably grunts, twists her head back deeper into the pillow before struggling to raise her head back up, glance down through her swollen eyes toward the sadistically jiggling clamps still glistening off her engorged nipples.

Repeatedly inhaling, exhaling, her drenched stomach flattening, hollowing as her arms, legs stretch to the four corners of the bed, her matted hair remains stuffed in the wrinkled latex hood still stretched just above her hairline, her ears as she’s given the brief semblance of a break from the ongoing abuse.  Her hazed eyes connecting with his, her look of utter exhaustion, intolerable pain intermingling, she’s finally able to mouth the raspy words, “Enough… Enough!... We’re done!... No more!... Really… Really… We’re done!... Done now!”

Patting her forehead, glancing into her pleading, swollen eyes now darting back toward his, realizing she’s only made it halfway though the night so far, he contemplates what’s next.  Remembering her last words before she undressed to lay across the bed naked, her stern instructions for him to complete the entire evening with her, adamant she be treated just like the other victims regardless of what she might want or say later, he slowly slips the hood back across her face, her widening eyes.  Stretching the latex tight, he slowly zips it shut blocking her muffled grunts.  The flexing of the nostril eyelets in a steady rhythm of her rasping breathing, her fingers again clenching, unclenching, her hips trembling, his gloves slide up across her thrust out mounds, grips the twin clamp’s curved handles.

Squeezing both simultaneously, he watches her entire body bucking upwards, bouncing back across the messed bed as the serrated clamps spread apart, snap away from her stretching flesh.  Muffled screams resonating from the hood, she arches again, bows upwards over and over on the rattling bed.  Sliding a hand down between her jerking thighs, firmly squeezing the third clamp, he releases its tongs from her swollen clit, that bruised, tender flesh practically adhering to the serrated grooves before snapping free.   More muffled screams, jerking, twisting and bucking, the duct-tape tearing at her chaffing wrists and ankles, her contorted body shakes the bed frame.

Giving her a few moments to recoup from the clamps’ induced pain, grasping her left breast at its base, firmly squeezing his grip as he holds the Wartenberg-wheel in his other hand, he rests the razor sharp tips of its prongs just above the bruised nub of her swollen nipple.  Squeezing her tit flesh, letting the wheel make contact, the needles sink inward as he rolls a trail of microscopic pinpricks across her bulging mound.

“Aaaaaagggghhhhh!”

Hearing her muffled scream, watching her body bowing into an arch, her buttocks lifting off the sheets, the remainder of the night’s still in front of them, including the penetration of her rectum before he’s done. 

End Part One… To be continued

   

       

                        

MODUS OPERANDI

Part Two

Chapter One… The aftermath of the predator/victim experiment

       The tap on the office door, seeing Sgt. Johnson glancing in, he nods as he leans back in his chair.  The door swinging open, shutting, the partially closed blinds rattling against its window, he watches her enter while glancing toward the mound of files on his desk.  Remaining silent, letting her step around the chair, carefully, slowly sit facing him; he waits for her to break the ice.

       “Damn, Lew,” she finally speaks, “You gave me a hell of a workout, didn’t you?”

       “Like I said when we were done, I just followed what you were so adamant about….”

       “Oh… I… I know, its okay, don’t sweat it… Christ… I asked for it and you delivered!”

       “Well then?... How you feel……..”

       “I’m fine… Fine… Still a tad sore though,” she grins, cups her breasts; the blinds pulled on the rest of the windows giving total privacy from the squad room.  “My nipples’ still swollen… Still can’t hardly touch ‘em.”

       “I bet,” he nods, glancing at her hands, her fingers gently massaging her firm mounds.  “Bet you’re still sore somewhere else, too.”

       Thighs pressing together, a hand dropping down across her leg, she nods.  “Just as sore?... You bet!”  Glancing toward the files, a couple envelopes opened, photos shuffled off to the side, she nods, “Whatcha’ got going now?”

       “Just… Just playing the angles… Even thinking about the woman side of it, as crazy as that sounds,” he answers, glancing toward a couple of the stills, inside feeling a sense of relief with her attitude.  “No sense worrying about any hidden help from the investigators on the earlier cases, those pricks was useless as tits on a bore hog back then.”

       “I hear that!... Who’s next?”  She asks, reaching for a couple photos, fingering them.

       Glancing up across the desk, seeing the expression on her face like nothing’s happened, he nods, asks, “You up to… I mean… You okay, ready to work?... You’ve only been off the weekend, that enough?”

       “What?”  Fuck yea, I’m fine,” she answers, flipping the photos back across the desk, “Damn, that was Friday night… It’s time to get back to work.”

       “Okay, as long as you’re up to it.”

       A smirk, leaning forward, unsnapping a couple buttons, she whispers, “I was sorta’ hoping you’d be up to it too, maybe rub a little lotion across my bruises later, take care of some of my other sore spots too after work.”

       Slowly shaking his head, the sight of the top of her blouse unbuttoned, the remnants of bruises, pinpricks just visible above her low cut bra she’s now wearing, the thoughts of whipping her the other night, mounting her, taking her in both orifices, watching her body twisting, contorting everyway imaginable until the bedding beneath her was drenched in her bodily fluids, he can’t believe the sexual innuendos coming from her mouth now.  The scuttlebutt way back when of her seeing the police shrink for a sex addiction problem’s obviously spot on, obviously should’ve included her blatant masochistic tendency as well.

       “Seriously, if you’re ready to get back to work,” he nods, putting on a front of ignoring her other comments.  “I’d set up another interview last week for this afternoon; see what we can do with a more recent case.”

       “Let’s do it then… Believe me, I’ve got some angles figured out,” she answers, again glancing toward the files.  “So, it’s the latest case this time… Something fresh, something I can relate too… Maybe both of us can relate too now.”

Chapter Two… The ride to another interview

       Studying the case together for a couple hours in the privacy of his office before getting in the car, a half hour or so trip ahead, the most recent file on Sgt. Johnson’s lap, she takes a few moments to shuffle through the photos as he drives.  Breaking the silence, she holds a photo over toward him.  “Look familiar Lew?”

       “What?”

       “The still, remind you of my bed?”  She asks as she holds the picture of the messed bed, the duct tape raveled around its four corners next to a nightstand with a couple photos of the victim, the larger frame holding a photo of her on a beach in a thong bikini posed between a couple of her friends.

       “All the stills look like your bed, they were all used the same way,” he answers, glancing at the photo, back toward the street.

       “Well… You haven’t said… How’d you like it?”

       Watching the road, hearing her voice, the question, he tries to ignore her comment, figuring where she’s going with it.

       “Seriously… Tell the truth, how’d you really like doing me like that; all naked and bound for you to do whatever you wanted with me… Really, I’m serious, be honest… You really got into it, huh?”

       Glancing over, seeing her expression, listening to her rambling tone, almost a sense of relief surpasses the anxiety he was feeling about talking to her about it.  Figuring it had to come up, it might as well be now.  “Well, actually…..”

       “You did, didn’t you?”  She butts in, “probably as much as me!”  Smirking, almost like she’s enjoying prying his answer out, she continues to probe. “You liked everything about it I bet… Tell me, what excited you the most though?... The power… Seeing me naked and helpless?... Let me guess with you being a man… I bet fucking me in the butt really turned you on the most, huh?”

       “Christ Jessica, fuck, I don’t know,” he mumbles, “Yea, it was erotic, it… I mean having you bound up like that… It gave me a sense of empowerment I guess… I mean having you all naked and helpless like that!”

       “See… We’re getting somewhere now,” she retorts, “you got a sense of what the perpetrator felt like just like I got a sense of what the victims went through.”

       “Okay, I guess you’re going to analyze us now, right?”

       “Sure… That’s one of the reasons we did it,” she answers with a smirk… Wanna’ hear?”

       “Well, guess I have too… I’m listening.”

       “Okay, here goes… It hurt… It did hurt me a lot for a while, scary too with the mask over my face,” she starts.  “The clamps hurt like hell for a long time before my nipples went numb, too… And I thought you were ripping my clit off with that other clamp.”

       “So, you really didn’t like it too…..”

       “Hush up… I’m not done yet,” she orders with an obviously fake frown, leaning toward the center of the seat, slipping her palm across his thigh, she continues, “now listen, I didn’t say I didn’t like it… A little pain can be a good thing, you know.”  Scrapping her fingernails back and forth across his trousers, down into his crotch, she continues, “Now listen to me, okay?... After awhile, having my titties whipped, being fucked, knowing it was going to go on all night, you begin to wonder if you can handle it… The pain becomes almost unbearable with arms and legs stretching until they’re numb, the aching burning of your pinched flesh from the clamps, not being able to see or hear the whips, just feel the leather leaving its welts, the sharp pinpricks, even being fucked in the butt.”  Her voice rising, almost sounding excited, he feels her fingers gripping, stroking at his swelling shaft as she becomes more animated.  “It all intermingles eventually though, the pain morphs, that’s when something happens to change everything, the panic, the pain becomes pleasure and it all melds together, you know?”

       Just listening to her play by play causing his cock to stiffen, not to mention her fingernails scraping against his trousers, stroking, squeezing, stroking a little harder, he almost stutters, “So… So what you’re saying is………..”

       “All said and done, I fucking loved it… Not at first mind you, but actually after you took my mask off for awhile… Then, oh fuck!... When you put it back on me, I almost shit…. Really, I didn’t think you would when I begged you not to… A part of me wanted you to stop then… Really I did… That’s when I didn’t know just how far you’d go… How much you might really hurt me… My nipples, my clit were on fucking fire already with those clamps so tight!”  Her fingernails digging into his trousers, her hand stroking in rhythm with her excitement, she leans closer, rasps, “that’s when I started responding to an adrenaline rush though… That’s when the pain really started feeling good with the not knowing part!... That’s when I started having multiple orgasms!... Even those sharp ass needle pricks across my titties and pussy that you really got into doing made me cum!... And by the feel of it, like you’re getting ready to now!”

       “Damn!”  His thighs twitching, feeling his cock continuing to throb, to pulsate, her fingers squeezing as if for emphasis as she leans closer, he mutters, “So… So you liked me hurting you?”

       “Yea… Probably just as much as you liked hurting me, right?”

       “Like I said, it’s… It’s empowering Jessica… Yea, I guess it did feel good,” he answers.  “Having you naked like that, sprawled out with those titties clamped, your clit clamped after I tied you to the bed spread-eagled.”

       “That’s why you fucked me right off, isn’t it?... Shot a load as soon as you jammed it in me!”  She almost giggles as she keeps stroking, gripping tighter as she haphazardly unzips his zipper with her free hand.  “You were about to cream your jeans even before you started hurting me weren’t you?... I remember, and believe me, when you stretched my pussy and shoved this thing inside me, it was bigger then either of those dildos I bought,” she adds with a firm grip of his cock, slipping it out from his skivvies.  “I thought it was going to split me wide open!... Damn!... Look at it is now!”  She smirks, gripping, twisting, jerking as her fingernails drag back and forth across his foreskin.  “It’s about ready to blow!... Gotta’ be careful… Hope it fits in my mouth for your sake… Can’t let your pants get all soiled, now can we?”

“By the way,” he practically grunts, somehow the stupid thought crossing his mind as his thighs begin to tremble, “you haven’t paid me back for… For those things from the sex… Sex shop yet.”

       Leaning her head further down, she giggles.  “We’re still a half hour away… This should be a good down payment.”  Tilting her head, craning her neck, spreading her lips around the crown of his engorged cock as she forcefully slides her fingernails firmly down his twitching shaft to come to a gripping halt above his scrotum, a sudden deep-throat, a harsh suck and holding it, holding it, she feels him exploding in her mouth, deep in her throat while she swallows the gushing loads of pulsing semen as he grips tighter on the steering wheel.

Chapter Three… The second interview

       A renovated carriage house, tucked beside an ivy covered red brick wall behind a French style mansion, the actual site of this victim’s assault, they park the car in front of what once was double stable doors, now secured as an outside wall to the house.  The entrance screen door swinging open off to the side, the attractive victim waits, watching as they exit the car.  Lt. Lewis nodding, showing his wallet I.D. as Sgt. Johnson steps between their unmarked car and a late model Jaguar convertible, the case file in hand as the woman swings the door further open.

       “I’ve been expecting you.”  Her voice low but clear, stepping out onto the aged flagstone step between the doorway and the curling brick walkway, she holds the door open.  “Come on in, the living rooms’ to the left.”

       Johnson first, the Lt. following, the victim closes the door, steps past toward the sofa facing cattycorner to the matching black leather recliner.  A wave of a hand for them to sit, herself sitting on the edge of the recliner, crossing her hands across her knees, she silently glances from Johnson to Lt. Lewis.

       “Miss Fronk,” the Lt. begins, “this is Sgt. Johnson, I’m Lt. Lewis.

       “Yes Lieutenant, I talked to you late last week… I believe… Wednesday, maybe Thursday.”  She answers, barely glancing from one to the other, her dark hair strictly combed back into a tight bun, her makeup impeccable, her clothes sheik and complimentary to her toned figure.  “You wanted to talk to me about my rape.”

       “Yes, we… We wanted to discuss the case.”  Lt. Lewis answers with direct eye contact, looking into her dark brown eyes, unblinking, almost piercing.  I brought Sgt Johnson along to….”

       “To have me feel more comfortable… Right Lieutenant?”

       “Yes ma’am, a courtesy if you will… You can even speak with her alone if……”

       “That’s not necessary,” she answers, her voice unchanging, calm but firm.  “I’m quite comfortable talking to either or both of you.”  Glancing toward Sgt. Johnson’s lap, the manila envelope flat across her knees, she asks, “That’s the file isn’t it?... That’s the whole story of an all night abduction and repeated rapes, not to mention the insidious extramural atrocities perpetrated on me.”  Again glancing toward the envelope, she nods past them in a couple directions while adding, “I gave a quite graphic description of what was done to me from the time I opened that door to when I was found in that room.

       “Yes ma’am… Quite graphic,” Sgt. Johnson acknowledges as she flips the folder’s flap open, empties the contents across the sofa between her and the Lieutenant.  “Yet again, like the others, no inkling of who the perpetrator could be, not one lone single whisper, remark of any kind that could help us?”

       “Again, if you read the statement Sergeant, he used superglue… Glued my eyes, my lips, my ears while I was initially rendered unconscious,” she instructs in her still calm yet firm voice.  “And, if you’ve read the whole report, he later glued by nipples together for his amusement and then later, my rectum.”  Glancing from one to the other, her fingers interlocking across her knees, her voice finally rising, she continues, “After mounting me a final time, he used the glue on my labium too… Yes, he glued my cunt shut!... After mounting those dildos in both orifices, he glued them shut!... Now, is that too vulgar for you?... Does that graphically describe what happened to me enough?”

       Feeling the warmth spreading across his face, glancing toward Sgt. Johnson, noticing her expression not of embarrassment, but maybe of intrigue, or even of a kind of stimulation, he also can’t help noticing the hint of her nipples hardening beneath her clinging blouse.  Turning back, he begins to ask, “so… So Miss Fronk… We… We did go over the report thoroughly, and I understand your frustrations, your feelings……”

       “Feelings?”  She smirks, “Feelings?... The only positive was, with my lips glued shut he couldn’t force anything into my mouth, down my throat… So much for deterring me from screaming, huh?... Otherwise my feelings besides being superglued shut consisted with being anally raped, virginally raped, my breasts beaten, my nipples and clitoris almost torn with serrated clamps… Besides those things, I guess I didn’t feel all that much!... Oh, except for being bound spread-eagled by my wrists and ankles for God knows how many hours with duct tape of all things, then lying naked in my own urine and sweat… Besides that, unfortunately there’s nothing else I can add.”

       “I guess that just about covers everything in your statement then,” Sgt. Johnson’s eyes gleaming, staring into the victim’s as she retorts, “yes, that about covers your ordeal in depth.”

       “I take it there’s been no breaks, new leads, anything then?”  The victim staring back toward Lt. Lewis asks as her hands almost reflexively slide up her thighs, her sides, coming to rest just below her breasts as she suddenly stands.

       “Not yet,” Lt. Lewis politely responds, glancing toward Sgt. Johnson as he shuffles the file’s papers, stuffs them back inside the manila envelope.  “But we’ll keep going, we’ve just been assigned the cases and figure on working ‘em ‘till they’re solved.”

       Standing himself, glancing toward the door, nodding toward the Sgt, the Lt. turns toward the victim.  “We’ll find our way out… You don’t mind if we stay in touch, do you?”

       “Of course not Lieutenant,” she stoically answers, “anytime… Please do keep me informed… And Sergeant… I have a good hair stylist I can recommend if you’d like.”

       In the unmarked car, backing away from the house, the red Jag, Johnson’s the first to break the silence as the Lieutenant’s driving.  “A bitch, but kind of hot, ain’t she?”

       “What?... Pissed, angry?”

       “No… Good-looking Lew… A cunt, but good looking,” she smirks as she flips a couple of the stills from their envelope.  Taking in the graphic hospital photos, the actual stills of the victim’s naked body after having the glue removed from her raw flesh, she adds, “Looky here… Whatcha’ think… Her hair didn’t look so good there, did it?... Anyway… How would you feel having her spread out in front of you like I was?”

       “You’re fucking something else,” he scolds, “And I saw you… You were getting off listening to her weren’t you?”

       “Seriously… Look at those tits on her… Real too,” she grins, holding a photo above the steering wheel.  “That’s one hot rack ain’t it!... Besides, you know good and well if your partner today was another fucking guy, you two would be creaming on yourselves telling each other what you’d want to do with her, I bet.”

       “How’d you like to go through what she did, asshole?”  He again scolds as he shoves the picture away, the photo of her with her hands behind her neck, her reddened breasts thrust outward, discolored with whip marks, clamp marks and especially the remnants of glue scrubbed off her chaffed nipples.

       “Don’t tempt me Lew!”  She smiles, squeezing her own breast with her free hand.  “Don’t know about gluing my pussy shut though!... Tits glued together, maybe… Think about it… Then you could stroke your cock between ‘em and jack off on me!”

       “You’re one sick bitch!”

       The photo slipped back into the folder, her hand reaching across his lap, gripping his cock, she retorts, “and little Lew down here’s getting all hard again too!”

End Part Two… To be continued  

        

          

       

           

       

         

        

       

       

       

       

MODUS OPERANDI

Part Three

Chapter One… A one on one repeat interview, alone without the Sergeant present.

       Knowing he’ll be working late for an interview, and without Sgt. Johnson, he studies the files yet again.  Trying to tie the cases together, to find that one strand, that single clue that can lead down the right path, he’s still troubled by his instinctive thoughts, by where the evidence seems to possibly be leading.  Glancing toward the clock, picking up, dialing the landline, he confirms his surprising appointment request from earlier in the morning.

       The drive alone giving him time to think, to ponder the possibilities, he finds himself pulling up once again in front of the now familiar address, the route just a blur from his mind being so deep in thought wondering where this interview could possibly lead.  The wrought iron gate, the security camera, the same condo he originally visited just over a week ago with Sgt. Johnson, he’s barely out of the car as the gated door swings open.

“Lieutenant Lewis.”

“Yes ma’am,” he acknowledges, facing her standing in the doorway, actually more then just attractive, quite stunning in her smartly matched riding attire, the whole nine yards from slick black leather English riding boots to the black velvet covered English riding helmet, her form fitting tan britches and white silk blouse filling in in-between.  Her tanned face glistening with just a hint of perspiration, even a riding crop in her hand, he’s taken by her appearance, her makeup impeccable, her bright red lipstick and fingernails perfect for her outfit.

“Come in please, I just got home myself,” she offers, “ I got tied up a little longer then I anticipated at the stables but left as soon as I could get loose after you contacted me on the cell.”  A nonchalant smile as she steps aside, allows him to pass by, she points the tip of the crop toward the living room.  “The sofa or recliner, your choice Lieutenant.”

Picking the sofa, sitting toward the center, he’s surprised as she steps closer, slips in between the armrest and him.  “Don’t mind if I sit here a moment, do you Lieutenant?”  Her voice on the raspy side, yet still feminine, he ambiguously nods, sliding a little closer to the other armrest as she lays the crop on the armrest.

“Please Lieutenant; I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?… Sorry for my rushed appearance,” she apologizes as she lets her hand slide across his knee.  “I’m not meaning too… I mean I’m not making you uncomfortable… Am I?”

“No ma’am,” he answers, the feel of her fingers pressing, gripping ever so slightly just above his knee.  “If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable too.”  Glancing into her eyes, dark brown, almost piercing, he can’t help thinking back to the day he found her bound naked, brutalized on her bed.  Thinking of that photo on her dresser of her on the beach in her sexy string bikini, by the looks of her outfit now that same bikini would still fit, and she would still do it justice.

“I’m glad you could come alone this time Lieutenant… Like I requested,” she offers as he even recalls the scent on his police jacket all that time ago being the same as she’s wearing now.  “Hope you don’t mind if I get a little more comfortable, out of these tight clothes do you?... And please… Don’t be shocked and… And no questions until I’m ready… Oblige me!”

Listening to her voice, the kind that he could listen to forever, sultry, even seductive, pretty much confused to what she’s asking, bemused even, he just nods his head, feels her fingers momentarily gripping a little firmer as she stands, faces him, still staring directly into his eyes.  Watching her raising her hands, her fingers reaching for, probing the top button on her blouse, the second, the third being slowly undone, he can’t believe he’s seeing the blouse spreading open beneath her pouting lips.  Parting across her white cotton bra covering her shimmering rounded breasts, the curved mounds almost overflowing the full cups, the blouse slips down across her shoulders.

Staring toward what appears to be fresh marks across the tops of her breasts as her shoulders arch back, seeing the blouse slipping down across her arms, down to her wrists, watching her slowly turning, her glistening breasts thrusting outward stretching at the bra, her tanned flesh contrasting with the white undergarment, the obviously fresh pair of visible welts crisscrossing her chest contrasting with her tanned flesh, he struggles to remain silent, slides back a little further across the couch.

Both arms rising above her head as she slowly turns, the blouse dropping across his lap, her back’s layered with multiple stripes, otherwise bare besides the thick white strap crossing just below her shoulder blades as she faces completely away from him.  Staring at her back, the crisscrossing whip marks, he hears her almost whispering voice.  “Unsnap me please… Unsnap it for me Lieutenant.”

Her head turning, barely revealing the side of her shimmering face, he remains motionless as she gives just a hint of a forced smile.  “My bra… Unhook it, please… My back’s sore to the touch.”

“I… I don’t think tha…..”

“Lieutenant!”  She interrupts, “please, it’s not like you haven’t seen my bare breasts before… And in a lot worse shape then this… Now please indulge me for a moment… My back’s sore.”

Surreally reaching toward her, his fingers gripping, unfastening the snaps one at a time, he feels the softness of her smooth, damp flesh between the welts, watches her shoulder, back muscles rippling as the third snap slips away.  Almost jerking his hands back as her arms suddenly lower, cross in front of her, he watches as her hands reach around her sides, her fingers clenching, tugging the cups gingerly out away from her swaying breasts before she flips the bra back across his lap.

Allowing her pendulous breasts to momentarily sway freely back and forth, her hands rising, fingers interlocking above the top of the velvet lined helmet, the silhouettes of the rounded curves of her globular mounds jaunt outward from either side of her ribcage beneath her armpits.  Slowly turning, allowing her hands to slip downward, glide across the pair of welts glistening across her chest, she cups the outer portions of her breasts with her thumbs while pressing inward, the tips of her fingers nearly touching across her sternum.  Thumbs fluttering across her firm tit flesh, brushing over her tan areolas, flicking against her hardening nipples, both nubs are obviously pierced but void of any current jewelry.  Again her deep eyes staring into his, her expression stoic, she rasps, “the last time you saw my breasts they were in a lot worse condition then they are now, weren’t they Lieutenant?... Just these couple whip marks from that crop now.”

Watching her slowly arching her shoulders, bowing her back, letting her breasts spring out above her spreading red  lacquered fingernails as her hands lower, slide almost gingerly down toward her sides, the firm mounds seem even larger, fuller then he remembered, the dark oval areolas perfectly centered.   Continuing to sway, the globular melons standing upright, the pair of overlapping purplish stripes trace across her chest, neither welt actually breaching the flesh.  Eyes locking as her hands again slowly slides downward, cross in front of her riding britches, her fingers meet in the front, begin unsnapping the buttons, slowly separating the fly.

Dumfounded, his pulse picking up a couple beats, he can’t believe she’s stripping in front of him, let alone showing fresh whip marks.  Leaning back as she bends forward above his lap, her hips twisting, her breasts elongating, smacking together as the stretching pants material shimmies down across her firm thighs, she allows her breasts to virtually press across his face.  Reflexively reaching up, cupping, feeling her melon sized mounds resting in his upturned palms, he also attracted toward her panty-less tanned flesh sans of her freshly shaven pubic mound with similar crossing welts, her firm labia folds discolored by what appears to be lasting imprints of clamps as she continues to shove the pant-legs on down to collect across the tops of her nearly knee height boots.

A hint of a forced smile, standing upright again with her breasts lifting free of his gripping fingers, spreading her legs as wide as she’s able, the pant’s material tautly stretches between her bowing knees.  Again raising her arms, slowly interlocking her fingers behind her neck, the partially uncovered bun of her hair slightly unravels beneath the back of the riding helmet as she arches back, glances down across her swaying breasts from one jiggling nipple to the other.

“Well… Lieutenant Lewis… Remember the last time you saw me like this all that time ago?... I was only twenty-one back then… Just a naïve, big tittied kid.”  She nods, appreciating his expression as she speaks.  “Got to see my body naked like I am now, and wanted to feel my titties back then I bet, didn’t you?... But didn’t, no, not like you just did now.”  A couple seductive twists back and forth, still starring with her piercing eyes, she adds, “tell me, didn’t you think for just the briefest of a moment about mounting me back then?... I mean, spread out there on the bed naked, already abused, totally helpless and tied… Didn’t it cross your mind to climb on me… Maybe even later, I know you had to think about me after that, you wanted to either fuck me or whip me, didn’t you?... I know you did… Maybe both… Just like you do now!” 

Listening, barely paying attention to the significance of her seductive voice, giving her not much more then an awkward nod without any real meaning, her naked body’s even more then erotic, even the obviously fresh whip marks covered by the shimmering coat of perspiration adding to her intoxicating look as he remains almost quiet, almost transfixed until he finally mumbles, “what… What happened to you………”

“What happened to me, Lieutenant?... You mean now?... Today?”  She smirks, “what happened is I just left a discipline session… And when we’re done here, I’m to return for the remainder of my punishment session.”

“Punish… Disciplined for….Who’s doing this, making you…………”

“Lieutenant… Don’t be so naive!”  Her tone scolding as she remains in her pose, legs, arms spread apart, the rest of her statuesque body totally naked between the riding boots and felt covered helmet.  “You’re a detective… Detect!... Look at these welts, my back!... How you think they got there?”

Slipping up off the couch, within inches of her face, practically ready to reach out, grab her, cover her up with her blouse; she remains with her breasts thrust out between them, firmly posed in her stance while continuing to follow his eyes with her own, somewhat of a smirk on her face.

“Lieutenant, I’m disappointed in you,” she nods, “its obvious isn’t it… But don’t worry… This is a part of my lifestyle now… Has been for a long time… I’m what you’d have to call a classic Masochist… I accept my discipline… Actually, I feel rewarded when I’m being punished.”

“What about back… Back… Then… When……….”

“If you want to question me anymore about back then,” she cuts in again, “you’ll be required to use the riding crop… You’ll need to hurt me to get answers!”

“Riding crop?... Hurt?”

“Pick up that crop.”  She nods, her eyes darting toward the arm rest as she remains rigid in her stance, her stomach hollowing with each breath, her only other discernable movement.  “Then, before asking a question, lash me a stroke across my breasts, my buttocks, or between my legs… Your choice.”

“I… I can’t do that for Christ’s sake!”  He murmurs as his eyes automatically follows hers to the black leather riding crop angled across the sofa’s arm rest.

“Then our interview will have to be concluded unless you agree,” she sternly answers, her eyes still fixed on his, her body still just as taut in her pose.  “Whip me, and whip me with a purpose or you can find your own way out…. No in-between… I know you want too; I can see it in your eyes… There’re lots of things you can think of that you would want to do with me… Thought about doing to me for a long, long time… And now, you can!... You can have me… Just pick up the crop and start using it.”

Glancing toward the crop, back toward her, glancing toward the closed door to the front of the condo, he hesitates, tries to suppress the feeling in his gut, the same feeling he got with Johnson, even becoming stronger.  Again her scent, her look, the blatant offer to do whatever........ 

“Want a signed disclaimer Lieutenant?”  She breaks his train of thought, her voice still sultry, even a hint of chiding as her body glistens in front of him.  “You really don’t need one… But I will…  Now please… Pick up the crop and use it, you know you want too, we both want you too!”  Glancing downward, back and forth toward her quivering bare breasts, she seems to plead, “Either you whip me, my breasts, or I can’t answer any more of your questions… You want to shed some light on what happened to me… To the others, don’t you… Now please, pick it up and begin our interview…. And again Lieutenant… Use the crop with purpose!... Match the intensity of these stripes… Force those answers out of me!”

Reaching for the crop, flicking it back and forth across his palm, he glances directly toward her face as the ‘smacking’ of leather against his hand echoes across the room.  Seeing the sparkle in her eyes, her body twitching with each snap of the crop, the anticipation in her knowing eyes staring back at him as her breasts jaunt even further outward to accept the lashing, he reaches out, lets the tip of the crop glide gently across an areola.

“Do it,” she groans, falling into the role.  “Oh God yes, do it…  Whip me, my titties… Hard across my bare nipples… Do it!...  Do it!... Hurt me… Sir!”

Carefully circling the nub, watching her nipple shriveling with anticipation from the contact, watching her abs flexing beneath her ribcage, he grips the tip of the crop, curls it back into a bow.  Holding it, centering it above her quivering nipple, he shakes his head back and forth, drops the crop across the sofa.  “Sorry, can’t do it,” he nods as he reaches for her hands, tugs them down toward her sides, her breasts brushing, flattening across his chest as she leans forward, their lips practically touching.  Stepping back a step or so, he adds, “I don’t know what you’re about, but there’s no way in Hell I could explain any of this shit to Internal… Sorry!”

Another glance at her naked body, her disappointment showing on her face, in her eyes, he steps toward the door, turns as he reaches the arched doorway.  “Sorry, I’ve got to get back now.”

Turning herself, disgustedly slipping her crinkled riding britches up across her hips, again cupping her breasts between her spreading fingers, thumbs, she smirks, “Okay, Lieutenant, okay for now… But we’ll have our little session together, I promise… You know you’re not going to be able to get me out of your mind… That you can have this body anyway you want… To do with as you want… For as long as you want, even as your own personal sex slave.”  Bending, reaching for her bra, another forced smile, she nods, “you heard me right… Your sex salve, and with all the obvious benefits… Just call me when you finally decide you want me… I’ll be discreet… So anytime… Hopefully sooner then later!”

Opening the door behind him, leaving and entering his unmarked car, backing away, dropping the shifter into drive, he glances toward her standing in the doorway fastening the back of her bra.  Pulling away, the trip back to downtown begins as he knows she’s right, she’s the only thing on his mind right now as he rubs his aching crotch.

End Part Three… To be continued