Flesh & Blood (14 page)

There was no sign of her skirt, but her blouse, or the remnants of it, were scattered around in several pieces. She hissed as she closed her legs, gasping for breath at the sudden pain and shifting her feet apart again, then walking, slowly and carefully along the alley towards the distant light.

She reached the road, and her car, parked neatly next to the sidewalk. She had no idea where she was and stumbled across to the vehicle, hoping it was open. It wasn’t, but her keys were in the pocket of her coat, and a moment later she was inside the car with the heater blowing.

She ached, and her breasts felt tender. And her throat was sore, as if she had a terrible cold.

The car’s clock told her it was nearly midnight. The last thing she remembered was… she had been going to visit someone, but who?

She put the car into gear and pulled away, her mind becoming clearer with each passing minute, clouded only with exhaustion and pain now as she gazed at the street signs and tried to find her way. She gradually began to pinpoint her whereabouts, knew which way to head, and turned south.

What had happened to her prior to coming too on the old crate?

Her foot pressed down more sharply on the accelerator and the car surged forward. She felt sick. Her stomach churned. She had no strength in her limbs.

The tires screeched as she pulled into the garage of her apartment block, and she stumbled out of her car and across to the elevator.

The apartment felt comforting as she locked the door behind her, and a bit of the tension she hadn’t been aware was gripping her receded. She headed straight for the bathroom, stripping off her coat as she flicked on the light – and stared in shock.

Her hair was bedraggled, matted by something sticky, and some viscous substance had dried on the underside of her chin and her throat. She wiped at it with her hands, disgusted, appalled as she smeared it off.

It was also on her breasts and in her cleavage, she discovered, and the more she looked the more she found, on her belly, and most sickening of all coating her naked sex lips and inner thighs.

And there were neat bite marks all over her, on her breasts and tummy, her hips and throat and shoulders and thighs.

She swayed on her feet, and then sank to her knees, but not before noting how mournfully pale she looked. She turned, moaning, and crawled into the shower cubicle, then reached up and turned on the water, letting it pour down over her. It was all she could do to sink back against the wall tiles for several long minutes and let the exquisitely hot water cleanse her battered body. Then she worked up the energy and some degree of enthusiasm to reach for the soap, and began to lather herself all over.

Who were they, she wondered dazedly, and how many of them had fucked her?

She lathered herself and rinsed off, then again and again before, exhausted, she dried herself, made her way from the bathroom, and fell asleep on the comforting warmth of the rug in her living room.

A shadowy face, a smile.

Flash.

Arousal. Heady, exciting.

Flash.

Darkness. Surging shadows closing in all around her.

Flash.

Intense need and lust and frantic tearing of clothing.

Flash.

Hands clawing at her body, her mouth, her throat, her breasts.

Flash.

Savage pounding inside her, hands all over her, leering faces surrounding her, blotting out the moon.

Flash.

Her body writhing in unison with the frenzied thrusting of rigid cocks. Her mouth stretched wide around a demanding erection, her throat penetrated, her legs held apart, something behind her, her anus stretched around an intruder. Her body twisted, turned, lifted. Sneering faces.

Flash.

Ecstasy. Screaming wails of ecstasy. Hers.

Chapter Eight

She woke up with the sun on her face, looking out the glass balcony door. She felt instantly alert and sat up, frowning. As she rose to her feet she remembered taking a shower, but nothing after that. But she did feel clean and pure, strong and filled with energy.

Her hair looked healthy, shining lustrously. There were no bite marks on her body, and no bruises. Tentatively she touched a finger against her sex and felt a little burst of excitement, but no pain.

Had it all been a dream? Had it all been a horrible nightmare?

It was Monday morning. Had she any reason or excuse not to go in to work? There was nothing desperately needing her attention there, and she had worked on her Sunday off. There were the missing girls of course, but she was fairly peripheral in the case, else she’d not have had the weekend off, and she really didn’t feel like going to work today. She would either be driving from place to place carrying out routine inquiries, which for the most part amounted to nothing more than interview sheets to go on the pile, or she’d be stuck somewhere doing research, checking records of sex offenders or investigating people who had access to computerized information on the girls.

It was boring, boring, boring. Of course she’d only been a detective for a few months and she knew it would get better eventually, after she’d put in some time. She would be trusted more, be given more important assignments, but in the meantime it was all pretty dull.

And she felt hyper, like running and jumping, like going wild. There was an energy in her which made it hard to sit still for long. Of course if she wound up partnered with Sara again things could get quite energetic, but that was dangerous because someone might find out.

She could make work more interesting without running a major risk, though. She felt a flare of heat and a tightening in her chest at the thought, and padded across the bedroom to her dresser, pulling it open, feeling a slightly breathless sensation as she gazed down inside. She had bought more than dresses on her Friday shopping expedition.

There was what appeared, at first glance, to be a collection of thin leather straps sitting in the drawer. As she lifted them up they spread out, attached by metal rings. One strap dropped heavily, weighted down by two fat leather tubes. Both were attached to the strap by a quarter inch metal bolt. One was a stubby butt plug, the other a stout dildo. Both were softly padded and encased in leather, and the thought of wearing them to work began to make her hands shake with excitement. No one would know. No one would guess. It would be a secret, like the rings she found herself constantly toying with. It was insane of course, but…

Leah bent over slightly, gripping the butt plug, twisting it softly from side to side as she pushed it in and out, forcing it deeper and deeper with each push, gasping, bending further over as the plug forced her little opening to relax and accept the foreign object.

‘Oh!’ she squealed as it slid into her rectum. She pushed it further and her anus closed behind it, with only the tiny bolt sliding inside her.

She pressed the dildo against her sex lips, not the least surprised to find she was already wet. She was always wet these days. She groaned in pleasure as it slid into her, twisting it in her fingers, rolling her hips a little as it passed over her clitoris. She pushed it in fully, gasping a little as it filled her, but though it was fat and long it was soft and pliable and very snug.

She pulled the rest of the straps up over her shoulders. They were little wider than her thumbs, encircled her breasts, and fitted tightly around her waist. The leather was soft but firm against her flesh, the metal rings cold at first but warming as they followed the contours of her body.

The final strap, the one with the dildo and butt plug attached, was drawn down between her buttocks and thighs. She squealed a little as she pulled the strap up at the front to buckle it to the ring at the centre of her stomach, gasping as the strap dug between the lips of her sex and forced the dildo deeper still.

Pulling on the ingenious harness tightened it entirely, and the straps that encircled her breasts pulled in more sharply, squeezing the soft flesh into taut globes. Then she turned, breathing deeply, gazing dreamily at her reflection in the mirror.

She picked up her brush and worked it through her hair, then stepped back, straightening her shoulders. That caused the straps to dig in even more severely and she let out an involuntary groan. Her nipples, she noted, stroking them softly with her fingertips, were even more erect than was usual now. The lower strap cut between the bare lips of her sex, squeezing deliciously and painfully against the ring impaling her clitoris.

She looked at her reflection, eyes sparkling, then turned slightly and looked again over her shoulder. Smiling, she put on a black silk blouse and a pair of black trousers, quite businesslike, especially beneath a black blazer, then she chose her shoes, not stilettos but fairly high-heeled, and slipped her feet into them.

Perhaps Mbweni might not approve, but she didn’t much care what the woman thought just then.

She walked slowly back and forth, feeling the dildo and the butt plug coaxing her simmering excitement, enjoying the comforting feel of the harness embracing her, and wondered if she’d be able to get through the day without going mad with arousal.

She pulled on her leather coat and headed for the door, delighting in the wickedness she felt as she passed others on the landing and nodded politely in the elevator.

‘Ah, detective, the captain wants to see you straight away,’ the desk sergeant called as Leah entered the station.

Leah halted in surprise. ‘Did she say what she wants?’

‘Ha! The captain rarely takes me into her confidence,’ he said with a snort.

She nodded and continued on, wondering what Mbweni wanted now; reasonably confident it wasn’t to make her life more pleasant. Or was it? She felt a dawning sense of wary alarm, remembering Mbweni’s phone call. She despised the arrogant bitch, yet in her present condition the thought of submitting to her sexually made her body tense with sexual desire.

She made her way up the stairs and then to the rear of the station where the district’s higher ranking leadership had their offices, taking a deep breath as she knocked on Mbweni’s door.

‘Come,’ she heard her superior’s arrogant voice, and opened the door and entered the office, her tummy turning a little with uncertainty.

‘You wanted to see me, ma’am?’ she said.

‘Close the door,’ came the abrupt response, and Leah kept her expression neutral as she did so, then walked up to Mbweni’s desk and stood before it. Mbweni was looking over report forms, and showed no particular urgency to deal with her. Leah was determined not to show any indiscipline, and waited patiently until the woman got around to telling her why she was wasting her time, and after several long minutes Mbweni closed the file she was studying and looked up, her demeanor one of confident arrogance.

‘Detective MacInnes,’ she said, ‘I expect you are aware of police regulations dealing with the standards of professional behavior?’

Leah blinked in confusion. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said.

Mbweni nodded. ‘And tell me, how do you believe the regulations would interpret the actions of a police officer who, whilst on duty, decided to spend all morning engaging in a sexual interlude with a colleague?’

Leah stared, and with a shock realized Mbweni somehow knew about Friday morning with Sara Yi. She felt the blood drain from her face, and struggled to keep her expression from betraying the shock she was feeling. ‘I… I doubt they would approve,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. Mbweni would have no proof, she told herself, her mind racing, and even if Sara confessed it would be her word against Leah’s.

‘So you do understand that, officer?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Leah said.

‘And yet you decided to indulge yourself regardless.’

‘I don’t know what you mean, ma’am,’ she said, standing stiffly.

Mbweni raised an eyebrow, then pushed her chair back and turned to the credenza behind her. She pressed a button on a VCR sitting on a lower shelf and the television monitor came to life. As Leah stared at the screen her eyes widened, and she felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. She saw herself slumped back on the sofa naked, legs spread wide, knees drawn back, as Yi lapped at her pussy. She blushed furiously as the scene changed to her fucking the Asian girl with the large dildo. ‘Stop it!’ she pleaded in a strangled voice, knowing it was hopeless when she saw the date and time clearly showing in the bottom right corner of the screen. ‘Please, ma’am, I don’t need to see anymore.’

Mbweni flicked the recording off and turned to confront her. ‘So you don’t know what I mean?’

‘H-how did you get that?’ she stuttered.

‘That is not important.’

‘But it’s a violation of my privacy,’ Leah complained.

‘It was submitted to me anonymously by a concerned citizen,’ Mbweni said. ‘And I would be negligent in my duty if I did not confront you with it.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Leah gasped. ‘How did anyone manage to film that?’

‘I’m sure you would know that better than I, MacInnes. However, my concern is not with your sexual promiscuity or perversity but with what you do whilst on duty. Now, have you anything to say for yourself?’

Leah took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. ‘How did anyone manage to film us?’ she demanded again.

‘My only concern lies in what to do with you,’ Mbweni stated, easily deflecting the question. ‘Clearly I cannot overlook this, but if I draw up formal charges against you involving such prurient material the media will certainly become involved. It’s the kind of scandal the press adores.’

Leah hated the woman, but there was no question she was right. The press would lap up such a salacious scoop and it would destroy her career.

‘But on the other hand,’ Mbweni continued, ‘it is not absolutely necessary that this sordid episode should become public, although you must certainly be punished, of course.’ She smiled a cunning smile, and Leah felt outrage and then, infuriatingly, arousal.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded through tight lips.

Mbweni smiled and got up, moving around her desk and then behind Leah, who felt her stomach lurch as the woman locked the door and then leaned back against it.