TASKFORCE

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