Veronica got an uneasy feeling the instant she stepped into the room. Brett closed and locked the door and stood leering at her, wetting his lips with his tongue while they curled into a strange, almost sinister grin.
Although the room was comfortably warm, she felt a chill and wrapped the open front of the luxurious coat closely around her trembling body, snuggling in its warmth.
"What's it like being a cop's wife?" he asked her with a cold, cutting edge on his voice. "It's the shits," she answered, without thinking.
That was the conclusion she'd come to. Suddenly she whipped around, surprised that he knew. It was something she hadn't wanted to discuss until they knew each other better. Much better!
Brett grabbed the collar of the coat and jerked her toward him. "Don't ever try to feed me a line of shit again," he hissed.
"I – I won't. I – I didn't. Not really. Grant and I are finished. I've already talked to my parents about it. They're loaning me money so I can fly to Mexico for a divorce. I'll be back the next day… free. Completely free! I wanted that before we even met. And I want it more now!"
The cringing fear in her eyes excited him. He thought he sensed a smoldering sexual excitement born of dread. "Qoooh, you're gonna get more, all right! More than you can handle, maybe." He pushed her backward and sent her sprawling across the bed. Her coat flew open and showed the front of her clinging, low-cut dress.
"Brett!" she cried in alarm. "What the hell has gotten into you?"
"Think about what's going to get into you," he said. Brett circled the round bed and hauled up two heavy leather wrist straps concealed in the frame.
"Oooooh, my God! No, Brett! Please!"
But by then, he had one of her arms cinched tight in a band of cold black leather. She tried to twist out of reach, but he caught the other arm and jerked it over her head.
"You're feeding me shit again," he snarled. "Saying no when this excites the hell out of you. I can see how your eyes gleam. You love it, you lying bitch! You can hardly wait for me to rip your clothes off and whip your cunt!"
"Grrruuungh!" She struggled fiercely, but realized what he'd said was true. Being bound and helpless was strangely trilling.
He circled back and grabbed one of her legs, hauling up an even thicker strap for that. "In a couple of minutes, you won't be able to move anything but your steaming cunt!"
"Aaagghhh!!" Veronica tried to kick her leg free, but Brett's grip was strong, and the gleaming chrome buckle he cinched tight was stronger still.
"One more pretty leg," he gloated.
Her dress hiked up as he yanked her legs apart. He could see a stain of dampness spreading in her crotch. There'd been a trace of fuck juice stirring his finger in her cunt at the bar, but now it was spreading even more.
Veronica gasped and shuddered helplessly when he bound her other ankle, spreading her wide.
"Your pussy is dripping-wet already," Brett chuckled. "Is this how your fucking cop husband turns you on?"
"Noooo," she moaned. "He never did anything like this."
"And he didn't excite you like this either," he concluded. "Ii that why you're dumping him?"
"I guess that's part of it. Mostly, I don't like him being a cop."
"We've got that in common, lady. I don't like cops either! I especially don't like that fucker Grant Dunlap. I'm going to love fucking that bastard's wife!"
Veronica cringed. She'd become an object of revenge and spiteful rage again. It both frightened and thrilled her more than before. Now she had some idea what to expect. Her body wrenched and heaved as wildly as her restraints would allow.
Brett stepped over to a closet uniquely equipped for special guests. The first thing he selected was a pair of foot-long scissors with flashing chrome blades. He clicked them maliciously land laughed with the same grating, metallic sound as he returned to where her ankles were strapped.
"Off comes your dress and anything else you happen to have on underneath!" He began snipping at the hem of her dress, splitting it upward between her wide-spread legs.
"Hhhaaaght!" she groaned. The sharp, grinding click of the shears seemed to be severing nerves as well as her dress. She felt the numbness of terror creeping toward her tit mound.
The flat, cold bottom edge of the shears touched her there, sliding over her thin panties while the snapping blades moved steadily up ward toward her heaving tits. Christ! It feels cold as a snake!
Brett carefully worked the lower blade beneath the center web of her bra and severed that along with her dress front.
"Huuunnngh!" she gasped. Her fast breathing had swelled her tits. When her bra parted, her tits burst free with a rush of soft flesh.
He gazed with lurid hunger at her quivering tit-mounds. "A great set of tits you've got!"
"Put the scissors away and suck on my tits," she pleaded, gulping in breath and drawing her shoulders back to thrust her tits out invitingly.
"Nod, not while you've still got your panties on. I don't want any more secrets between us, remember?"
Veronica shuddered again. She felt the cold blade sliding down her hip, cutting away the silk material. Then she felt it on the other side, and he jerked away her split panties, her ruined dress and the remains of her bra.
"Please don't ruin the coat. It doesn't belong to me."
"And it doesn't cover anything I want to see." Her arms trembled in the furry sleeves and the wide, soft collar bunched around her anguished face, but the front lay open and concealed nothing.
"But some of that pussy hair has to go. Christ, even with your legs spread, I can't see your cunt slit."
"No… Brett, God, please no!" He grasped a handful of the silky brown curls draping her cunt. The icy cold blade touched her most tender flesh and then she heard the scissors snap shut.
The tug of his hand ended abruptly, and she knew at once that the tufts of cunt hair he held were gone. She wailed a low, mournful cry. He instantly gripped another tuft and snipped that away. "You'll soon have the wispy-haired pussy of a young girl!" Brett said. That obviously delighted him.
Rarely did young and never did attractive women have need for his fucking services. But that was his past life. Never again! He would humble this sexy bitch to redeem himself, and then, with her father's prosperous furniture store as a base, he would use his street-wise cunning to make them both rich.
She could have her glittering diamonds and her precious furs. He had decided to spend his soon-to-be-acquired wealth on the most luscious and exotic young girls in the world. These random thoughts flew through his mind and excited him almost more than the fine, dripping cunt he'd almost snipped bare.
Veronica could not raise her head high enough to see all that he'd done, but most of the silky, T-shaped spread of pussy hair that covered her pussy mound was gone. She sobbed hysterically and quaked with excitement at the same time. Beneath his apparent cruelty, she sensed passion and lust like she had never known before.
She also sensed the kind of vicious cunning that would make her dreams of wealth come true at fast. She moaned and rolled her heed, letting the soft mink collar caress her cheeks.
"Ooooh, Brett… please fuck me. I need a great cock right now. Fuck me!"
He stood watching, smirking at the way her almost-hairless pussy writhed with pulsing, begging fuck motions. Her churning made the heavy straps squeal from strain and redden her tender wrists and ankles.
Slowly, he began stripping off his clothes. It was a well-practiced performance – one he'd done countless times – but never with such a good reason, and never with the prospect of such a rich reward.
He had a broad chest rippled with sinewy bands of muscle, a trim waist, and flat belly, taut with restless strength. Below, he casually revealed a thick, dark tangle of cock hair – a shock because his upper body was smooth and shiny without even a trace of hair.
As he eased his tight-fitting slacks down, Veronica saw the root of his cock – a giant stump growing out of that thick tangle of bush. His prick shaft drooped thick and long. What he had done so far had not excited him fully.
"Let me suck your cock," Veronica moaned through quivering lips. "Ooooh, I'll make it so huge and hard! Then we can fuck. Ungh! I need your big cock so much!"
"You'll get my prick when I'm sure we understand each other." Brett strolled back to the closet and replaced the scissors, grinning coldly as he picked up a cat-o'-nine-tails; a short stiff-handled whip fitted with nine thin leather thongs about two feet long, each one knotted tightly at the tip. When he swept it through the air, it made a sound like howling wind.
Veronica's whining demands had given him a clue. He'd known enough women to recognize all the types, and he suspected that this nagging, wheedling bitch had made her husband's life pure hell. For the first time in his life, he found himself feeling sorry for a cop.
"For as long as we are together, I tell you what you will get and when you will get. Do you understand that?" He swung the multi-tongued lash at his left hand. The thongs hissed, spreading from his elbow to his fingertips.
"Yes!" she cried in a shrieking voice, "but I need your cock now! My poor bald pussy is burning hot!"
"You haven't learned!" Brett said sharply. He threw back the lash and streaked it down across her pussy mound.
"Hhhhaaaggghhh!" Nine hard fingers of pain spread between the points of her hips, forging themselves into a single shocking stab of pain that ran up her spine like a lightning bolt.
"No more! No more!" she cried, still wracked by the spasms of pain.
"You still haven't learned," he said flatly. The cat flew back, and its nine rasping tongues welted her cunt mound again. The criss-crossed pattern looked like a road map. They merged into a superhighway of pain that ran non-stop up her back.
In the throes of agony, Veronica finally began to understand herself. When she was young, her father always disciplined her severely. He was the absolute and unquestioned master of the house, and he was the only kind of man that she could respect enough to love.
Grant, for all his toughness on the street, had never been so forceful at home. Perhaps because he sought refuge there, calm after all the stress of being a cop. The why no longer mattered! Only the when! When would Brett Allison make her the kind of woman she'd always yearned to be! The question haunted her, but she now knew better than to ask. Her lips moved, but only a hot rush of anxious breath came out.
"That's better!" His cock stiffened each time he laid down the broad fan of stinging pain. Once more should do it, he decided. He drew back his hand.
Veronica lay strapped to the bed, her ripe body swelled with fear and the urge to scream for mercy. But she bit her lip and clamped her eyes shut, shivering and trying to brace herself against the worst.
It never came. Brett felt satisfaction enough from her attitude of complete submission. He crouched between her spread legs and began to tease her pussy with his giant cock.
Leaning forward, he pushed his prick in. Her pussy was so wet with honey, his cock so aching-hard, their two bodies fused instantly in a writhing mass.
He spread his hands and caressed her blushing cheeks with soft dark folds of fur, and he kissed her gaping lips while stabbing viciously with his tongue. His cock plunged in and out of her cunt with the same wild rhythm, punching and trusting so hard that she wanted to scream.
"Qooooh, Brett!" she moaned instead. "Hooo, Brett!" The violent spasms that came next were the most extreme and most superb she'd ever known. She thought of it as the start of an intensely satisfying new life.
Brett's eyes glazed with ecstasy as the wringing spasms of her cunt sucked his prick dry. Then his vision cleared, and he began to grin, knowing that one lesson would never be enough. This lusty bitch would keep testing him. He could hardly wait for her to step out of line again.
Whipping her back would please them both and that pleasure came sooner than expected. Veronica caught her breath, grinned slyly and cried: "Fuck me again, you bastard. Fuck me like a man!"
Tanya lay sleeping, her face blissful and calm in a silky cloud of fiery red hair. Even the sharp jangle of the telephone did not disturb her when it rang at ten the next morning.
At midnight, she'd reached the age where she could not be compelled to return home. And by four that morning, Samantha and Grant had both readily agreed to let her stay with them… at least until she figured out what she wanted to do with her life.
"It's for you," Samantha said curiously as she handed Grant the phone.
"Yeah, I left your number at headquarters. Probably more crap about popping that kid who tried to blow my head off. Hello?" Grant's voice cut like a sword. Samantha was stroking his cock, trying to tease life back into after all the previous night fucking.
He listened to the caller, and Grant's broad grin pew wider with every word that was spoken. Samantha's grip on his cock and her curiosity both grew stronger.
Finally, he laughed and said: "No shit? That's great! Hell, no… send it right over. I'll sign anything!"
"What was that all about?" Samantha asked.
"Some lawyer. My wife Veronica is an a plane to Mexico to get a divorce."
Samantha fought to control her look of elation, but the way she pumped Grant's cock betrayed her joy. His prick pulsed wildly in her hand.
"Another call came in while you were sleeping," she told him. "You're on Administrative Leave until the Shooting Team holds a hearing about that thing last night. That won't be for a week, maybe two. And that means we've got all that time to play with that big fucker of yours."
"Aaaaahhhh, don't I wish. But you're back on duty at four this afternoon, remember?"
"Er, no – I'm off, too. I quit. I just can't take all the crap that goes with being a cop." Samantha leaned down and sealed her warm lips around the head of his stiffening cock.
"You quit? What the hell are you going to do?"
"Qooooh, I don't know… something I like better." She lowered her head again and pulled excitedly on his hard cock shaft.
"If you're planning to suck cock for a living, I'll have to slap your ass in the can. I'm still a cop, and that's all I know how to be."
"I know…" Her lips slid down his prick shaft like a wet velvet sleeve.
"Huuuunngh! You make it damn hard to carry on a serious conversation."
"You mean, I just make it damn hard! Look at how that big fucker is throbbing now!"
"I don't have to look. I can feel it!" Grant's craggy face split with a satisfied smile. That was the best thing to come out of all this. He had to grunt and hold back a thrilling swell of desire in order to form words. "I still want to know what you're planning to do when you hand in your badge."
"Well, there's a new opening I just learned about." She swung a leg across and crouched above his upraised cock shaft, anxiously working his prick head back and forth between the moist lips of her silver-haired pussy.
"Aaah, what new opening is that?" God, how he loved the way that sexy little bitch teased.
"Well, the pay is lousy, the hours are worse, and the fringe benefits are terrible. I'll never own a mink as long as I live… maybe one little tiny diamond."
"What the hell kind of work are you talking about?" She kept stirring his cock faster and faster, sinking down on it, wincing with every inch of prick meat she took in.
"Ooooooh, it's not really work. And I guess it's the one thing I've always wanted most to be."
"And what the shit is that?" His prick was in her cunt up to the root, and her pretty face had pulled itself into a knot of writhing joy. Her soft, silver curls shone in the morning light.
Samantha beamed him a loving grin and fucked herself wildly up and down on his hard cock shaft. "Haven't you figured it out by now?" she asked between lusty grunts. "Some detective you are! Aaahhhhhh!" She jerked her head back and began that exquisite wringing motion with her cunt.
"All I want to be is a cop's wife!"