Message-ID: <46062asstr$1072912206@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <nntp-bounce@supernews.net> X-Original-Path: corp.supernews.com!not-for-mail From: "Al Steiner" <steiner_al@hotmail.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <vv5vlka22k4d12@corp.supernews.com> X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 31 Dec 2003 08:52:21 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} NEW: Rough Revenge Part 1 by Al Steiner (FF,Fm,rape,toys,etc) Date: Wed, 31 Dec 2003 18:10:06 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/46062> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates Author's Note. It's been a while since I've posted here since I've been hard at work on my latest novel: A Perfect World, which is currently being run at www.Ruthiesclub.com. This story is one I wrote prior to A Perfect World for a very special person in my life (who has a rather twisted sense of revenge, I will admit) and is somewhat of a departure from my normal postings in that it contains some non-consensual sex. It's a three part, character-driven story and I will post each part over the next three weeks. As always, please let me know at Steiner_al@hotmail.com if you liked it, disliked it, or whatever. Happy New Year and good sex to all. Al Steiner Heritage County Tales: Rough Revenge By Al Steiner Part 1 of 3 Mandy Barrington read the call that had popped up on her computer screen, her green eyes flitting back and forth between the road before her and the screen. It was at a check-cashing establishment in the northern part of Lemon Hill, just half a mile from where she was now. According to the text supplied by the dispatcher, a 30's male was attempting to cash a forged check by using a fake driver's license. The clerk was attempting to stall the man in question until the arrival of the sheriff's department. With a small sigh-this would be her ninth call of the shift so far-Mandy turned her green and white patrol car into a left turn lane and made an illegal U-turn, her finger pushing the acknowledgement button on her terminal as she spun around. It was the official policy of the Heritage County Sheriff's Department that no patrol officer could be compelled to respond to a call alone. At least one cover unit was dispatched for everything and that was the case with this call as well. Unit 24-D-1 was also on the way but Mandy knew that in all likelihood Trina Powers, who was assigned to that particular unit, would not be as close as she was. Her choice was to either wait nearby until Trina arrived, at which point they would both drive in together, or to go in alone while Trina was still on her way. After a moment's thought on the matter she elected to go ahead and go in alone. To wait would be to risk having the forger get antsy and leave. Chances were, she would be able to handle anything the forger could throw at her. At 30 years of age she was a six year veteran of the Sheriff's Department, four of those years spent right here in Lemon Hill working uniformed patrol. She was a tall woman, almost 5-11, and in very good shape. She had been in scuffles many times in her career and was not afraid of them. "Twenty-four Delta," she told Trina on the radio as she turned the corner onto the avenue where the establishment was located, "I'm less than a minute out. I'm gonna go ahead and roll in." "Copy that," Trina replied. "I'm from Covington and North. Less than five out anyway." She smiled a little as she heard Trina's sexy voice coming out of the speaker. Trina was a young deputy with only a year on patrol, but the two of them had a lot in common. They often socialized together in their off hours, including a few socializations that some of the male members of the department would have been very interested to hear about. Putting thoughts of her young friend out of her mind, she wheeled the green and white into a strip mall parking lot on the corner of a busy intersection. Contained in the strip mall were several sandwich shops, a motorcycle shop, a bar, and the check cashing establishment-one of many in California that offered high interest payday loans based on the patron's next payroll check. She parked in a red zone just outside of view of the front door, marked arrival on her computer, and then shut off her engine. Mandy stepped out into the muggy August air and pulled her wooden baton from a holder in the car door. She slid it through the ring on her equipment belt, made a quick, almost unconscious check of her gun and her portable radio, and then slammed the car door behind her. Walking slowly up to the front door, she could feel the heat soaking into her through the heavy khaki uniform shirt and bulky bulletproof vest beneath it. Her eyes were alert but her mind was figuring that her suspect had probably already left. You just didn't catch people in the act very often, not with the resources spread as thin as they were in this particular department. But still, she had arrived less than two minutes after dispatch, something that was a rarity in this jurisdiction. She opened the door and looked inside before entering. The establishment had been designed with the thought that large amounts of cash would be available inside-amounts that would draw armed robbers like flies to dogshit. The clerk on duty was standing behind a wall of thick bulletproof glass capable of stopping a high-powered rifle round. Her only means of communication with the customers was through an intercom system built into this wall. An electronic door was the only means of movement between the lobby and the clerk's position. Standing before the window, looking fidgety and impatient, was a man of about thirty. He was dressed in tattered blue jean cut-offs and a ragged white T-shirt with large sweat stains under the armpits. His hair was long and greasy and his face was pockmarked with acne. One look was enough to tell Mandy he was a methamphetamine addict and probably wired for sound at this very moment. One look from the clerk-a pretty young Hispanic woman of about twenty-was enough to tell her the greasy meth addict was indeed the man she had been sent here to talk to. "Hello," she said, her eyes looking him up and down, searching for the telltale bulge of a weapon. "How are you doing today?" He swallowed nervously and tensed up even more, his eyes flitting from place to place like a trapped animal. "I'm all right," he mumbled. Mandy deliberately kept herself between the door and the man. She kept her right hand near the holstered gun on her belt, not touching it, but close enough for a quick grab if it became necessary. She looked over at the clerk. "I understand there might be a problem with a check and some identification?" she asked her. The clerk's eyes looked nervously over at the man for a moment and then back at Mandy. "He uh... gave me this check," she said, sliding a piece of paper under the access slot and back to the outside. "It doesn't really look like a real check." "What the fuck you talking about, bitch?" the man said, turning toward her. "Did you call the fuckin' cops on me?" "Hey now," Mandy said calmly. "We don't need any of that. She's just doing her job. No reason to come down on anyone for that. Why don't you go stand over there by that wall for a second while I look into this thing." "This is fuckin' bullshit," the man said, but did as she told him and stepped away from the window. Mandy picked up the check he had tried to cash and looked at it. She had to suppress a laugh as she got a gander. Made out to Steve Brown, it had obviously been churned out by a cheap inkjet printer using ordinary printer paper. The lines where he had cut it out with scissors were still visible in a few places. The name of the phony employer, Steven's Industries Incorporated, had been put down with the word "industries" misspelled. She shook her head a little as she took this in. "Did you really try to cash this thing?" she asked him. "That's my paycheck!" he said. "What's wrong with it?" "You should learn to spell before you try to print something like this out on your computer. You should also use paper that looks like it's a check. Jeez, what's the world coming to?" "I didn't print that out!" he insisted. "My boss gave it to me. He prints them on his own computer." "Uh huh," she said, setting the check back down on the counter. "He also wouldn't take out his ID for me," the clerk said. "He just showed it to me through the little window in his wallet and it doesn't look real either." "Is that a fact?" Mandy asked. She looked back at the suspect. "What's your name, my friend?" He looked away from her, swallowing again. "Just like it says there. Steve Brown." "Uh huh," she said, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "Well how about we check out that ID that you showed her, Mr. Brown? Did you print it on the same paper as the check?" The alleged Mr. Brown suddenly reached his breaking point. He knew he was about to get caught and made a snap decision inside his drug-ravaged mind. Unfortunately for him, it turned out to be a rather poor decision. Mandy saw the way he tensed up, saw the way his eyes shifted to the door behind her, and realized he was about to make a break for it about a half a second before his feet began to move. That was just enough time for her to shift position and get ready for him. He rushed at her, probably thinking that since she was a woman she would be easy to knock down. But Mandy, at 5-11 and 170 pounds, was not quite a pushover. He slammed into her and bounced back as she threw her weight into him. She grabbed his left wrist and quickly twisted it upward, trying to get him in a wristlock. "Get down on the ground, asshole!" she barked at him, her tone more of annoyance than fear. "Right now!" "Let go of me, you fuckin' bitch!" he screamed back, swinging a wild right that impacted just below her badge. Absorbed by the bulletproof vest beneath, the blow didn't hurt a bit, but it was enough for Mandy to ramp things up a notch. She let go of his wrist and pushed him away from her, toward the wall. In a flash, the can of pepper spray on her belt was in her hands. She pointed it at him and sent a stream of the stinging liquid directly into his face. It was enough to slow him down but not stop him. "You fuckin' bitch!" he screamed, trying to run forward again. This time she took the baton out of her belt. Using it just like she'd been taught in the academy, she snapped it at his knee just as he reached her. She felt the solid thump of the impact send vibration up her hands and the man screamed again, dropping to his knees on the floor. She stepped back, the baton ready for another swing. "On the ground, asshole!" she ordered him. "I want your face in that fucking tile!" He didn't listen. He tried to get up again. She gave him two quick hits, to the ribs this time, dropping him back down. She quickly stepped around him, grabbing the baton on each end as she did so. She put it against the back of his neck and pushed, forcing his head into the floor. Her knee went into the small of his back and she ground down with it. "Get those hands out in front of you!" she ordered, pushing his face harder into the tile "Get the fuck off me!" he yelled, still struggling. "Now, motherfucker!" she said, exerting more force against the back of his neck. "All right! All right!" he said, finally doing as he was told. His hands came forward and he stopped struggling. Mandy stood up, keeping the baton in her hands, and put her foot down between the man's shoulder blades, keeping him on the floor. "Don't you move an inch," she warned him. "If you do, I'm gonna hit you again." He didn't try to move. The fight was all out of him as the pepper spray finally soaked all the way in and did its work on his pain receptors. "My eyes!" he screamed. "You didn't have to spray that shit in my eyes." "Fuckin' pussy," she said contemptuously. She keyed up her portable radio and quickly called for her cover unit to come with lights and sirens on. Trina came screeching into the parking lot less than a minute later, her patrol car jerking to a halt just outside the door. She ran inside, her own baton in her hand, her blonde ponytail flapping with each step. Together they wrenched the man's arms behind his back and securely handcuffed him. "Decided to go the hard way, huh?" Trina asked as they lifted him to his feet. Blood and snot were now running from his nose and tears were streaming out of his eyes. "My fuckin' face!" he screamed. "This shit burns. I can't fuckin' breathe!" "Yep, he didn't want to play nice," Mandy told her. She looked at her suspect again. "How stupid are you?" she asked him. "Now you're going in for assaulting a police officer too. That's a felony, you dumbshit. Do you have any idea how much more paperwork this gives me?" "My leg hurts too!" he cried, oblivious. "You didn't have to hit me with that thing!" "You're the one who wanted to go the hard way," she told him. "How's it feel to get your ass kicked by a chick?" Trina asked him. "Fuck you too, bitch!" he yelled. "I'm gonna sue you for recessive force!" "You mean excessive force," Mandy said, feeling the adrenaline starting to wear off now. She tugged on her suspect. "Come on, let's get you outside. I'll call an ambulance to come look at you." +++++ While they were waiting for the ambulance, Mandy had her suspect sit on the curb outside. She patted him down and found a small baggie of meth in his pocket (he claimed he'd found it and didn't know what it was). She then searched through his wallet and found the fake identification he'd tried to pass off. It had indeed been printed on cheap printer paper and even through the plastic window of the wallet it was so obviously a fake that she was forced to make a few more derisive remarks about his stupidity. She also found his real identification tucked into the back of the wallet. It was a suspended California driver's license that was three years out of date but it did at least have his real name and date of birth on it. She ran a records check on him and found that he had an extensive history of methamphetamine possession, burglary, forgery, assault, resisting arrest, and drunk driving. "Five previous resisting arrest charges?" she asked him. "You've had your ass kicked by half the cops in the county, haven't you?" "Fuck you!" he told her, utilizing his razor sharp wit yet again. "I'll have your fuckin' job for spraying that shit on me. And where's that fuckin' ambulance? I'm dying here!" "They're coming," she told him, tossing his wallet onto the hood of Trina's patrol car. She then looked up at her friend. "Can you watch him for a sec? I'm gonna get my camera and snap a shot of him for my book." "You got it," she said, leaning back against the hood. Mandy gave her a smile that was just a bit more than friendly and walked over to her own car. She used her key to open the trunk and then dug around inside of her briefcase for a moment until she found her digital camera. Like many patrol cops she carried it so she could snap pictures of people with whom she came in contact. She would print them out on her computer at home and put them in an album she carried with her. Below each picture she would list the person's name, last known address, any aliases he or she might use, and what crimes they were known to commit. She could then show those pictures to victims or witnesses when similar crimes took place to see if they recognized anyone. "Smile pretty for me," she told him as she walked back over. He looked up just as she snapped. "What the fuck did you do that for?" he asked. "You can't be takin' my picture." "Sure I can," she told him. "The Supreme Court says so. Now I'll be able to look at you whenever I want. Isn't that nice?" "Fuck you," he said again. "My fuckin' eyes hurt!" "Should've thought of that before you tried to run," Trina said absently. Mandy carried the camera back to her car and put it back in the trunk. As she was walking back to where Trina and the suspect were she saw a brand new green and white pull into the strip mall. A familiar looking silhouette was behind the wheel. She groaned a little, letting a frown come to her face. "Oh, this is just great," she grumbled. Trina looked up and saw the car approaching. "Is that who I think it is?" she asked. "That's her," Mandy confirmed with a sigh. "Good old Sergeant Adolph herself." Sergeant Adolph was one of many names Sergeant Jo Ann Boxworth was called behind her back. She was also known as Sergeant Hussein, Sergeant Bin Laden, or Sergeant Jihad. None of these monikers were exactly meant as terms of endearment. Boxworth had been the supervisor for the Lemon Hill day watch for a little over two years, since her promotion to sergeant. Before that she had been assigned to the identification division. Before that she had been in courtroom security. Before that, she had been assigned to the county jail. She had never, not even for a single day, worked as a patrol officer before. So the department, in its infinite wisdom, had promoted her and assigned her to supervise a patrol shift. To say she had absolutely no idea what she was doing was somewhat of an understatement. It was generally agreed that she had no business even being a cop, let alone supervising them. The manner in which she had been hired, assigned, and promoted was certainly no mystery to the rank and file who had served with her and beneath her in her seven years with the department. She was the wife of Captain John Boxworth, commander of the north patrol division and a very influential man within the department. Captain Boxworth was a close friend of the Sheriff himself. He was a golfing buddy to several judges and county supervisors. It was said he was slated to be the next undersheriff and then, in six years or so, the next big sheriff. And Captain Boxworth, who not the most attractive male in the department and who was rumored to be about as pussy-whipped as a man could be, had absolutely no compunctions about using his influence to get his wife whatever it was she wanted. When she had decided seven years earlier (while Boxworth was still a lowly lieutenant in charge of the internal affairs division) that she wanted to join her husband's department, she was hired three months later despite having failed the physical agility test. Though her psychological profile had indicated that she had a strong inferiority complex and would tend to be a bullying troublemaker, this was disregarded and she had entered the next academy. Though her test taking, report writing, and physical conditioning were considered substandard, she had been passed through the academy with flying colors. And throughout her career, despite numerous documented errors in officer safety issues, public relations issues, harassment issues, and many other things that would have resulted in any one else's instant dismissal, she still hung in there, occasionally lightly disciplined but never suspended or even officially reprimanded. The department brass were all afraid of offending Captain Boxworth, who would one day be the sheriff, so they handled her with kid gloves and tried their best to put her somewhere where she could inflict the least amount of damage on them. The place that had eventually been settled on was the north patrol division, where she worked under her own husband and where she could have a few lowly patrol cops to boss around. And boss them around she did. Had she just been merely incompetent, it might have been tolerable to Mandy and those she worked with. But Jo Ann seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure out of ordering her cops around and demeaning them at every opportunity. She lived for catching them in violation of some minor rule so she could generate paperwork that would end up in their files. She absolutely loved talking to them in a condescending manner whenever the opportunity presented itself. She was also a vicious gossip, repeating and expanding on any piece of damaging information that happened to float into her ear. And for Mandy it was particularly bad. Jo Ann Boxworth had a particularly large hard-on for Mandy Barrington. "Why the hell did she have to show up?" asked Trina as Jo Ann's car came to a halt behind hers. "We called in an ambulance," Mandy sighed. "A sergeant has to evaluate the use of force when that happens. It's standard." "I know," Trina said. "But why her? There are three sergeants on right now. Why couldn't we have gotten Stinson?" "Because she's hoping for an opportunity to tweak my balls a bit. I told you she hates my ass." "How come? What did you ever do to her?" "I'll tell you later," she whispered as Jo Ann opened her car door and stepped out. Jo Ann had once been a very attractive woman, which was what had helped her secure her successful husband in the first place. Tall and aristocratically slim, she had been blessed with long legs, a pretty face, and perky boobs that had somehow managed to look good even through the bulletproof vest that covered them. Those days however, were no more. Forty years old now, Jo Ann's metabolism had seemingly closed up shop and moved to the Yukon over the past two years. Since being promoted to sergeant she had put on more than sixty pounds. And the distribution of this weight had not been very kind to her either. It had settled moderately in her face and legs, thickening both up just enough to sap the allure from them. It had settled very heavily however, in her breasts, stomach, and butt, expanding those attributes exponentially. What was worse was the fact that Jo Ann didn't want to acknowledge she was no longer 160 pounds. She wore her old uniforms until it was physically impossible for her to fit in them anymore and then she simply got the next size up. She had never replaced the old bulletproof vest or equipment belt. As a result, she looked perfectly ridiculous. As she stepped out of her car to talk to Mandy and Trina, her forest green uniform pants were so tight across her butt that it was difficult to believe she could even sit down without ripping the seat out of them. They were so tight around the waist it looked like her stomach would explode outward at any second. Her large breasts pushed so much at the vest beneath her shirt that the bottom of it had ridden up above her stomach. The breast area was actually pushed upward by the pressure, which made her badge and nametag face up at a forty-five degree angle. "Hey, Jo Ann," Mandy greeted listlessly as she walked over. "What's up?" Jo Ann looked her and Trina up and down for a minute, scrutinizing them as if they were already guilty of something. She never once looked at the handcuffed suspect on the curb who was still coughing and snorting blood from his nose. She chomped a few times on the wad of gum she habitually chewed and then shifted it to some other corner of her mouth. "I hear you have a suspect that was injured," she said. "Yes," Mandy told her. "That would be this gentleman here." She nodded to the suspect. "He wanted to go the hard way." "Is that a fact?" she said with a poor attempt at being shrewd. "Where is he injured?" "Pepper spray to the face, baton strikes to the right knee and the chest," she reported. "It looks like he hurt his nose when I pushed him down too." "You didn't have to spray me with that shit!" the man yelled, as if on cue. "Now now," Jo Ann said soothingly to him. "There's no need for that kind of language." Mandy and Trina shared a look with each other. No need for that kind of language? Where in the hell did she think she was working? An office building? "So tell me what happened," Jo Ann directed, fishing in her shirt pocket for a notepad. Her shirt was so tight she had to tug rather hard to get it to come out. Mandy took her out of earshot of the suspect and told her what had happened, narrating the events in the same tone of voice and with the same monotone inflection she used when testifying in court. Halfway through the telling a red fire engine from the Heritage County Fire Department and a blue and white ambulance from Western Life Support pulled into the parking lot. The firefighters and the paramedics went over to Trina, who began telling them the same story. After a moment the firefighters got back in their engine and left while the paramedic and his partner dragged the suspect over to a water hose on the corner of the building and began flushing his eyes out. "So you pepper sprayed him and hit him with your baton?" Jo Ann asked Mandy when the story was told. "That's right," Mandy affirmed. "And you hit him how many times?" "Two or three, I don't really remember." "Uh huh," she said. "And then you pushed his face down into the tile?" "Well... yeah, that was the only way to get him to stay still." She chomped her gum a few times, her eyes looking at her subordinate. "Mandy dear," she said. "It sounds like you used an awful lot of force just taking that one man into custody. Do you really think it was necessary to hit him with your baton after spraying him in the face with pepper spray?" "Necessary?" Mandy said, feeling her face turn red with anger. "Do you think I was doing it for fun? He was still fighting." "The pepper spray is quite incapacitating you know," Jo Ann said. "I hardly think he had enough fight in him after that to require being struck with a baton and slammed down onto the ground." "Oh really?" Mandy asked. "And just how many times have you used pepper spray on someone?" Jo Ann became stern at these words. She didn't like having her lack of patrol experience thrown in her face. "We are not talking about me here," she barked. "We're talking about you. There are those who would say you were beating on that young man. You know how that sort of thing looks to the media and the public." "Beating on him?" she asked incredulously. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to write this one up and send it over to IA," she said. "You're sending this to internal affairs?" Mandy asked, her fists clenching. "You've got to be kidding. This kind of shit happens out here every day." "Look, I'm just doing my job as a supervisor," she told her. "If I didn't write this up and this gentleman complained about you beating him..." "I did not beat him!" Mandy interrupted. "...then I would be in a lot of trouble," she continued. "If IA finds you acted within department guidelines, then everything is okay. If you didn't do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about." "Right," she grumbled, not fond of having the headhunters going over one of her arrests. "So anyway, let's go over your story one more time and then I'll go talk to that young man over there before he goes to the hospital." They went over the story once again, Jo Ann picking at each little detail and asking questions like a hostile defense attorney instead of a law enforcement supervisor. In between the questions she always made a point to insert at least one snide comment, always in a cloyingly sweet voice, that implied Mandy didn't know how to do her job. "I certainly hope you've learned your lesson about entering hostile scenes before your cover unit arrives," was one such comment. "You realize that the escalation of force protocol for the department requires that you attempt to talk a subject into surrendering before you resort to using force, right?" was another. Mandy just continued to tell her story in her monotone voice through it all, resisting the urge to clench her hands into fists and send them flying through the air to connect with that ass-kissing bitch's fat face. Finally, after filling nearly three pages of her notebook with scrawled marks, Jo Ann declared the interrogation at an end. "Now that the paramedics seem to be done with him, I'll go have a little talk with the suspect and get his version of the story." "His version of the story?" Mandy asked. "Jo Ann, you're not an investigator and there hasn't been a complaint made against me. Why do you need to get his version of the event?" "I'm just being thorough to the best of my abilities," she said. "You'll be talking someone into making a complaint that otherwise might not have," she hissed at her. "Don't you get impertinent with me, little missy," Jo Ann warned, giving an extra-hard chomp on her gum. "When you get to be a sergeant you can do things your way. Until then, we do them mine." "Christ," Mandy muttered under her breath, following Jo Ann's big butt over to where the suspect was now sitting on the ambulance gurney, his hair and shirt soaked with water but the blood and snot now gone. "The paramedic thinks they oughtta transport him over to VMC to get his ribs checked out," Trina said as they gathered around. "You might've cracked one when you hit him in the side." "Great," Mandy sighed. More good news. Now she would have to baby-sit the tweaked-out asshole at the hospital for two or three hours before she could haul him to jail. "Okay, let's handcuff him to the side of the gurney then and get it over with." "I'd like to get his side of the story first," Jo Ann cut in. "You can do that after." "His side of the story?" Trina said, raising her eyebrows. "What story is that?" "Don't you start getting impertinent with me either," Jo Ann barked, pointing her finger at Trina now. "Don't think I didn't notice that it just happened to be you who showed up with Mandy on this call. Quite a coincidence, isn't it?" "Say what?" Trina said. "She was my assigned cover officer," Mandy said. "Who else would show up?" "I just notice that you two get assigned to calls together an awful lot lately," she said slyly. "An awful lot. People are starting to talk about that you know. So you two had better watch what you do." With that she walked over to the handcuffed suspect. After a brief argument with the paramedic-who wanted to transport the suspect right away instead of waiting for a debriefing to occur-she began her questioning. Even from ten feet away the two women could hear her utilizing more leading questions than a defense attorney could ever dream of getting away with. So did she try to get you to give up peacefully, or did she just start attacking you? Did she ever give you a chance to get down on the ground after she sprayed you in the face with that spray? Do you really think it was necessary for her to have to hit you with her baton in order to get you under control? The suspect of course, answered every question with exactly what she wanted to hear. "Jesus Christ," Mandy said, shaking her head. "This is just unbelievable. She's sending this to IA." "She writing you up to the headhunters?" Trina asked. "That is low, even for Jo Ann." "No shit. And she's twisting everything around. That bitch is trying to get me fired." "Yep," Trina said nervously. She hesitated for a second and then said slowly, "What was that crap about us being assigned to calls together? What was she trying to imply?" Mandy sighed. "Well, I didn't want to tell you this, but she has apparently been spreading the rumor that... well... that you and I are a little more than friends." Trina actually paled as she heard this. "She's been doing what?" "I've heard it from a couple of people now. Mallet said she was spouting about it after roll call the other day. Jenkins said he heard her telling Rogers too. I wouldn't worry about it. Nobody believes it." "But Mandy," Trina whispered. "It's true." "She doesn't know that though," Mandy assured her. "All she's doing is what she normally does, spreading vicious gossip about two people who happen to be friendly with each other. Remember when she was saying that you and Mallet were getting it on? That wasn't true." "Fuckin' aye it wasn't," she said, a little hint of disgust in her voice. "Mallet's a goddamned venereal disease waiting to happen." "That's my point. She would've been saying it even if we haven't... you know, been seeing each other that way." "She doesn't have any... any facts?" "Not a thing," Mandy assured her. "Trust me. We've been very careful. Nobody knows what we're doing and nobody will know." Trina shook her head a little. "The fucking bitch," she muttered. "Are you sure..." "I'm sure," Mandy told her. "Really. I keep that side of my life very closed." She offered her a secret smile. "Just like I'm teaching you to do." This seemed to make her feel a little better. "Okay," she finally said. "So we're still on for after work tonight?" she asked her. "I'll be at the freaking hospital and the jail and writing goddamned reports until then so I probably won't get a chance to talk to you before then." She seemed hesitant for a moment but she nodded. "You know we are," she said. "Drinks at the 11-99 club and then straight back to my place." "I'll be looking forward to it." "Me too," Mandy said with a smile. "It'll make this whole crappy day seem worthwhile." +++++ Trina lay spread-eagled on her queen-sized bed in the bedroom of her apartment, her nude body on glorious display. Her blonde hair was now released from its tight ponytail and spread out over the pillow beneath her head. Her pretty face glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration, her full lips pouting alluringly as she panted, her eyes closed tightly in pleasure. Her C-cup breasts heaved up and down with each intake of breath, the nipples sticking up proudly in her arousal. Her tight stomach rippled with the spasms of approaching orgasm. Her long, sexy legs were spread widely, hanging over each side of the bed. Between those pretty legs was an equally naked Mandy, her brunette head buried in their junction. Her face was smeared with the fragrant juices of her friend's lust, her tongue savagely attacking the swollen clit that protruded from the hood like a sentinel. "Oh God, Mandy," Trina moaned. "Oh God! Do it to me! Do it to me now! I'm about to come!" Mandy raised her head from Trina's crotch, looking up her body. "Do what to you?" she asked sweetly, as if she didn't know what she was talking about. "You... you... know what I want," she panted. "Do it! Please?" "Tell me what you want," Mandy prompted, giving another lick at her swollen vaginal lips, just below the trimmed bush of blonde hair. "Fuck me!" Trina yelled, giving in. "Fuck me with that thing! I want to come while you fuck me with it! Please baby, fuck me with it!" Mandy smiled, raising up on the bed. Her own crotch, with its neatly trimmed bush of black hair, was obscured by the nine-inch dildo that protruded from it, secured there by nylon straps that ran around to her ass. The dildo had been purchased over the Internet the previous year, when Mandy had finally decided to start fully exploring the bisexual aspects of her sexuality. Since then it had been used on only two people, Trina being the second, but it was quite obvious that it was a hit. "How do you want it, baby?" Mandy asked her, her fingers sliding through the slippery wetness of Trina's pussy, gathering up the juices and smearing it on the head of the latex phallus. "From behind," Trina said. "I want it from behind. I love it that way." Mandy patted her leg. "Then roll over baby. Let's get this show on the road." Trina, flushed and panting with desire, quickly rolled over and assumed the hands and knees position. Her swollen pussy gaped out from between her legs, the lips saturated with her juices and Mandy's saliva. "Mmmm," Mandy said, stroking her hand over the left butt cheek. "You are so beautiful, Trina. So sexy." "Do it to me," Trina demanded, in no mood for compliments right now. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard and make me come." Mandy put her hands on Trina's hips and leaned forward until the end of the dildo was just touching the swollen lips. Feeling the contact Trina immediately began pushing backwards, trying to force the penetration. Mandy didn't allow this, backing neatly away with each thrust. "Please!" Trina pleaded, seemingly near tears. "Put it in!" Mandy teased her for another few seconds and then could take no more. Using Trina's hips for leverage she pulled her backwards and pushed her own pelvis forward, slowly sliding the thick dildo into her body, inch by inch. "Oh yes!" Trina cried as she felt the intrusion. "Oh fuck yes!" She slid the dildo in to the hilt, until the straps themselves were pushing against Trina's ass. Trina sighed in contentment. "You like that, you little lezzy?" Mandy asked her. "You like when I fuck you with my big cock?" "Yes, you bitch!" Trina yelled. "Now give it to me. Give it to me fucking hard!" She pulled it slowly out of her body, until only the tip remained in her. The surface was now glistening with juices, hot and slippery and ready for proper usage. She pushed it back in, harder this time, causing a grunt of pleasure from Trina. "You little slut," Mandy whispered, her hands caressing her lover's skin. "You're gonna get it all now. Are you ready for it?" "I'm ready," she panted. "Oh god, I'm ready." Mandy began to fuck in and out of her, slowly at first to allow Trina's body to get properly lubed up and ready, and then with increasing speed and power. Within a minute she was slamming in and out of her, a distinct slapping sound filling the air with each thrust. A stream of juices leaked steadily down Trina's thighs to puddle on the bed. Trina herself quickly became incoherent, her moans coming steadily, her hands gripping the headboard of the bed spastically. Within a minute she was coming, her screams of sheer pleasure echoing off the walls of her apartment and causing two of her neighbors to shake their heads in consternation as the bi-weekly event erupted. Mandy did not stop after the first orgasm. By now, she was far too experienced a lover for that. She continued to pound in and out of her, bringing her right up to the next crescendo. Her hands moved from her waist, one going to Trina's dangling breast to pull on a hard nipple, the other going to her swollen clit to rub on it. The second orgasm was even more powerful than the first. For the grand finale she flipped her over, never moving the dildo from her body, and thrust into her in the missionary position, her mouth fastening onto Trina's, her tongue shooting into her mouth and sucking it while the third orgasm exploded forth. Slowly her thrusts came to a halt, both of them sweating freely, filling the small bedroom with the sharp odor of female musk. They lay against one another, breast to breast, groin to groin. They exchanged slow, sensuous kisses as their breathing returned to normal, as the ceiling fan above them cooled their hot skin. Finally, after several long minutes, Mandy pulled the dildo from her friend's body and rolled over next to her, Trina's head cuddled on her chest, her hand gently stroking her smooth back. "Wow," Trina sighed as she wiped sweat from her flushed face. "That was... was..." "Nice?" Mandy asked, a slight smile on her face. "Yeah," Trina agreed, cuddling a little closer. "Nice. The way two-carat diamond rings and first class air travel is nice. It was very nice." "I'm glad you liked it," Mandy told her. "You weren't so terribly bad yourself." "Oh fuck you," Trina told her, slapping at her playfully. "I think you came at least four times while I had my face in your pussy, didn't you?" "Five actually," Mandy said. "You're learning really fast, my dear. That little trick with the finger in my... well, you know. That really sent me over the edge. Where'd you learn that anyway?" "Someone did that to me once," she said shyly. "Never mind who." "Was it Mallet?" That prompted a laugh from both of them. "Yeah, sure," she said. "It was Mallet. We'll just keep it at that, okay?" "Okay," she agreed, slowly letting her chuckle die out. They lay there for a few minutes, watching the ceiling fan go around before Trina turned to her, her face now serious. "Tell me again, Mandy," she said, "that we're not lesbians." Mandy looked back at her. She leaned in and gave her nose a little peck. "We're not lesbians, Trina. Really, we're not." Trina sighed a little. "It's hard to convince myself of that sometimes," she said. "Especially when we're lying naked in my bed together and you have this thing..." She slapped at the sticky dildo still sticking up in the air from Mandy's crotch, "pointing at me." Mandy straightened up in bed a little, releasing her hold on her lover a bit but not completely. She took a deep breath, trying to think how to explain what was on her mind, how to reassure Trina that just because they enjoyed each other's body once in a while-well, actually ten times now in the past month-that it didn't make them homosexual. Trina, unlike Mandy, was still trying to come to grips with the fact of her bisexuality. Mandy had been her first female lover-or at least the first since Trina's fumbling experimentation in her early college days. Mandy had been like her friend not terribly long before, burning up with curiosity and wanting for her own sex, wondering how female skin would feel against hers, imagining how a soft set of breasts would be so pliable in her hands, how female musk would taste in her mouth. It was something she had repressed throughout her teenage and young adult years but never completely buried, something that had seemed to come to a head in the last few years, compelling, even commanding her to pursue it. Her first female lover had been a woman named April Wilson, a nurse at Saint Vincent's Hospital whom she had met at a Labor Day party the previous year. April had been there as a guest of Roger Benton, one of the day shift deputies, and his wife. The two of them had hit it off quite nicely in a way that Mandy could retrospectively appreciate quite well now. April had seen something in her, something she had in herself-the bisexual bug. The two of them had become friendly over the next few weeks, a friendship that eventually culminated in Mandy's seduction after a night of drinking wine coolers in her hot tub. Since then she had enjoyed three other female lovers, including-much to her surprise and delight-Roger Benton's wife Monica, who apparently had the same bug within her. Since then, through some instinct she did not quite understand, she had learned to recognize that bug in other women. Of course in Heritage County, California, only ninety air miles from the San Francisco Bay area, there were a great many full-fledged lesbians about, particularly in the law enforcement and emergency services business. But butch lesbians Mandy was not interested in. She had no desire to commit to a gay lifestyle. She still enjoyed the company of a man quite enthusiastically. Bisexual women-true bisexuals-were much harder to come by. But when young Trina Powers had been assigned to the Lemon Hill day shift three months before and had started regularly being assigned to calls with her, the bug within her had been as plain as the beautiful breasts beneath her bulletproof vest. Her seduction had been slow, almost painstaking in fact, but Mandy's instincts had been right on the mark about her all along. Trina was one of those, like Mandy, like Monica, like April, who liked to walk the line. But, like every other woman who had come to grips with this particular affinity, the realization of it was causing some societal induced doubts that needed to be assuaged. "Tell me something Trina," Mandy asked her now, thinking back to what April and Monica had explained to her in her early days. "What's that?" she asked. "If Pierce Brosnan were here right now, and if he had a nice hard on and wanted to fuck the shit out of you, would you let him?" "James Bond?" she said, raising her eyebrows up enthusiastically. "I wouldn't just let him, I'd throw his ass down on the bed and rape him." "How about Mel Gibson?" she asked. "If he came in here naked and told you to bend over the bed so he could slam you from behind, would you do it?" "I'd be bent over so fast my back would probably go out." Mandy smiled. "Well there you have it then," she said. "You're not a lesbo." Trina didn't seem convinced. "But..." "No buts," Mandy interrupted. "Its simple logic. You still want cock in you. That means you are not homosexual. Period." "But I like what... what we do," she said, blushing as the words came out of her mouth. "What does that mean?" "It means you're bisexual," she said with a shrug. "Nothing more. Nothing less. It means you enjoy having sex with me and I enjoy having sex with you and we like it because it feels good and we don't have enough pre-programming or whatever else goes into it, to stop us from doing it. I like men Trina. I like them a lot. I like the feel of a nice hard cock sliding into my pussy. I like the feel of a man shooting his cum up inside me. But I also like women. I like the feel of boobies dangling in my face. I like the soft feel of a woman's skin, the way their hair smells, the way their body tenses when they come. I like both and it's okay to be that way. Really, it is." "But we can't tell anyone about it," she said. "I keep thinking about what my mother would think if she saw us this way, if she saw me lying in bed screaming for you to fuck me harder with a strap-on dildo." "Well," Mandy said simply, "I won't tell your mother if you won't. Nor will I tell anyone else about it. I know it's nothing to be ashamed of but all the same, I really don't want people to know about that side of me either. It's okay to just do it in secret and not let anyone know about it." Trina seemed reassured by these words, as Mandy had once been reassured by a similar, though less graphic, lecture by April. They cuddled together again, their hands resting on each other's thighs, lying in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. "So are you worried about Sergeant Adolph sending that write up to IA?" Trina finally asked, breaking the silence. "Yes," Mandy said after a moment. "God only knows what kind of twisted-ass version of the facts she put in there. And you know how the headhunters are about shit like that. All they give a rat's ass about is busting someone's balls so they can make themselves look good to the brass. The only people who work in that place are a bunch of ass-kissing slimebags who are as bad as Adolph herself. Shit, I'm surprised they haven't assigned her to that place yet. She'd be perfect for it." "I've never seen her go after anyone as hard as she does you," Trina said. "She really seems to hate you; even worse than she hates the rest of the world." "She does," Mandy sighed. "She's had a hard-on for me for a couple of years." "How come? Is it because you used to be friends with her?" Mandy looked over at her, surprised. "How did you know that?" she asked her. "Word gets around," she said simply. "People say you and Adolph used to be pretty tight back in the day." Mandy shook her head a little in embarrassment. "I guess I should've known they wouldn't forget about that," she said. "Yes, Jo Ann and I used to be friends. That was a long time ago. Back when we both worked in the main jail." "It's hard to believe she actually had a friend," Trina said. "Its hard to believe you would be the one to do it. What did you do? Lose a bet or something? Or did you draw the short straw." Mandy chuckled. "I don't know what it was," she said. "I can't even say Jo Ann was nice back then, because she really wasn't. Oh, she wasn't quite as bad as she is now-mostly because she didn't have any official power-but she was still a little brown-nosing administrator's husband. She used to love to talk about all of the top brass she and her hubby had over to their house, including the Sheriff himself. She'd always refer to them by first name when she talked about them. 'Oh Gary was over for dinner last night, he and his lovely wife. They just raved about my chicken casserole.' Christ, I can't believe I used to hang out with her. I really can't." "Well, if you didn't like her, why did you do it?" "It wasn't that I didn't like her," Mandy told her. "I really thought I did like her back then. I wasn't doing it to get close to her because I knew she was powerful or so she'd mention my name to her husband. I actually thought we had a good friendship going. I liked hanging out with her. She could be a good friend in some ways. If she likes you, she'll do anything in the world for you, including a few things I really would have preferred she didn't, like using her husband's influence to get me an early assignment out of the jail and onto patrol. I displaced three other people who should've gone before me because of that. That didn't exactly endear me to the other cops, if you know what I mean." "Yes," Trina agreed, thinking how she would feel if someone had escaped the dreary jail assignment-which was universally considered the worst in the department-when she had been the next to go on the basis of seniority. "I don't suppose they were too happy with that." "Mostly though, I just had blinders turned on to the way she really was. I mean, I could see all of the manipulative things she did, all of the little tricks she played, and I could especially tell how freakin incompetent she was, but none of that seemed to soak in. It was like I was under some kind of a spell or something." "Were you attracted to her?" Trina asked softly. Mandy jumped, her face instantly turning a dark shade of red. She knew that trying to lie would be absolutely worthless. "Yes," she ashamedly admitted. "I think that was probably a big part of it." "I heard she used to be pretty hot looking," Trina said knowingly. "It's hard to believe now of course, but I'm kind of familiar with how your tastes in women run." "Don't you dare tell anyone about that," Mandy warned her. "I swear to god, Trina, I'd die if anyone found out about that." "What am I gonna tell people?" Trina asked with a laugh. "That you confessed that to me while we were lying in my bed, naked, and you had a strap-on dildo tied to your waist that you'd just got done fucking me with?" Mandy laughed a little, a nervous, semi-relieved laugh. "Yes, I suppose you have a point there, don't you?" They looked at each other affectionately for a moment and then Mandy went on. "She really was a piece back then. Tall, nice perky tits that I just wanted to put my hands and mouth on, a firm ass. She had everything I look for in a woman and that was when I was just starting to come to grips with my longings for women, when I was just getting up the courage to try going to bed with one. I wanted Jo Ann to be my first." "But you didn't?" "Never even close," Mandy said. "I might have sensed something in her or I might not have. I'm honestly not sure now. Probably not though. I don't think she has any sex that doesn't advance her career or her lifestyle in some way, shape, or form. I don't think the idea of sex for pleasure is even something she knows about." "So what finally happened?" Trina asked. "Why is she such a bitch to you now? Did you have a big fight or something?" "No, nothing dramatic like that. I just stopped hanging out with her. Not really all at once, but pretty quickly. There was no single thing that made me do it, just a whole bunch of little things. I think maybe I just grew up enough to realize she wasn't a very nice person. I also got tired of listening to her dissertations on why her family was so much better than mine, how her house was so much better than mine, how her children were so much smarter than mine. And then there was the way my other friends were treating me. I could tell that people were starting to mistrust me because I hung out with her so much. They weren't talking to me anymore, weren't inviting me to parties after work, were starting to talk shit about me behind my back. That was a big factor too. With all of that stuff added up, I'd just had enough. By that time she had transferred to the courthouse and I was working the morning watch in South Heritage, so we didn't see each other at work very often anyway. I just stopped calling her on the phone. When she called me I would tell her I was doing something and couldn't talk. When she would invite me over or try to get together off-duty, I'd tell her I had other plans. She was slow getting the hint but finally she got it. That's when things started to get unpleasant between us." "Oh?" "Yep," she agreed. "Most of it on her part of course. I was content to just not hang out with her anymore. I had no desire to be her enemy, I just didn't want to be her friend. Jo Ann is very vindictive though. She doesn't like someone ending a friendship without her approval. It wasn't long before she started spreading gossip about me to every cop who passed through the courthouse. And you know we all pass through there on a pretty regular basis." "Yeah," Trina said with a sigh. "I've got court day after tomorrow, now that you mention it." "The gossip was pretty vicious too," Mandy said. "Things about my children, my housekeeping, some personal secrets I'd told her." "You never told her about your... uh... feelings for other women though?" "No," she said. "That's one I never shared with her, thank God, although that didn't keep her from speculating on it anyway. Thankfully, no one believes most of what she says. It was when they made her a sergeant and put her out here on patrol that things really started to come to a head. She was in a position of actual power over me for the first time, and she didn't hesitate to start abusing it." "I've heard some of the stories," Trina said. "They're all true. Petty write-ups for things like unnecessary overtime, sending back perfectly good reports and making me do them again, assigning me to the shit details every single time someone was needed. And she continued to spread the gossip around. This prompted me to file a harassment complaint against her. Any other supervisor would've been fired for some of the shit she pulled, but not Jo Ann." "Nothing was done?" "Well, not exactly nothing," she said. "That's kind of how her hatred for me grew so much. Since her husband is in charge of the patrol division, he wasn't allowed to be involved in the harassment investigation. It went to Captain Zender over in Investigations. Now, of course, he and Jo Ann's old man are golfing buddies and all that, but he at least has a small set of balls. Or he at least knows something needed to be done in case this ever went further than our department. Jo Ann got two days on the beach and was ordered to cease and desist with the harassing behavior. It was a slap on the wrist, but it was a reprimand that went into her file. I'm here to tell you it pissed her off big time. She's been seriously out to get me since then." "Well at least something was done," Trina said. "Did it help?" "A little bit," Mandy said. "As you can see by today's little incident, she still blatantly harasses me whenever she gets an opportunity. She toes the line now though, always making sure she keeps it just at the point where if I complain about it she can justify it as standard supervisory actions." She shrugged. "What can you do? Someday she'll go a little too far and I'll nail her again. Maybe next time she'll get four days on the beach." Trina shook her head, angry for all her friend had put up with. "That's just a bunch of bullshit." "That's what this department runs on," Mandy replied. "Haven't you figured that out yet?" "I think I'm starting to," she said. She paused for a second, as if debating whether or not to say something. Finally she went ahead and blurted it out. "Are you still attracted to her?" Mandy looked over at her and made a sour face. "No," she said firmly. "Most definitely not. Not only is she ugly because of the pounds she's put on, but she's ugly just because of who she is." She shook her head strongly. "No, my attraction to her ended at about the time the friendship did. I have to like someone to want to have sex with them. I've always felt that way." "That's kind of what I figured," Trina said. "Just wanted to make sure." Mandy gave her a predatory look, one that didn't look exactly nice on her. "I wouldn't be above giving her a good old fashioned grunge fuck though," she said. Trina was a bit shocked. "A grunge fuck?" she asked. "Yeah," Mandy said wistfully. "It's a term that guys use. It means..." "I know what a grunge fuck is," Trina cut in. "It's a good term. Sometimes guys have the right idea about things, you know?" Continued next week in Part 2 Archive available at www.storiesonline.net and at www.ruthiesclub.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+