Want to get your power back from her? Man up.
It left a meeting time in the warehouse district. April printed it. She looked several emails later, having searched under the same e-mail addresses and the meeting time of her abduction and place of her rape was mentioned. She printed it all out, closed Janice's email, shut down her computer and finally went to the police office. She was greeted by a Sergeant Duncan Connors.
"But you can just call me Sergeant," he said dawning a friendly smile and a southern accent. 'Georgia, maybe.' "Officer Gains was originally assigned to your case when you called yesterday, but you didn't show up." He smiled at her. "And Officer Gains has since had a family emergency. So I'll be handling your case. Personally." He smiled again. He led her by her wrist through the busy main space, where most of the officers and detectives had their desks, and into his office. He sat her down in front of his desk and leaned against the side of it. There was a single floor lamp on in the room. It was shining just above April's head. April handed the Sergeant the e-mails. He told her to start from the beginning. She spoke of her promotion, the abduction, the tattoo, the eye shadow, the affair.
"The affair isn't going to help you, but I want you to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. If you want to take this to court, and by the looks of it you do, they're going to insult your reputation. But I've seen this kind of thing with women who were kidnapped before. It's called Stockholm Syndrome."
"Wait a minute. I'm not crazy. I don't need to see any shrink," protested April. She wasn't suffering from anything. "I was just confused. The jury will understand."
"Well," it was Georgian, "I'm not your lawyer, but he, or she, is going to tell you the same thing. It's your only bet." Sure enough, April's lawyer recommended she do just that, see a psychiatrist. April gave in and agreed and the psychiatrist testified in court that April had been, indeed, suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. April recounted the events of the rape in detail, straight-faced. She recalled the details she noticed, the blond hair, the aged eyes, the distinctive eye shadow. The tattoo. She described how she came upon the evidence, and how each man had motive to get back at her, each man was up for her promotion, including Milton. But back then he didn't know he'd be C.E.O. in a few days' time, he didn't know the Old Bastard would have a heart attack and die and leave the company to him. She described her mixed and confused feelings the weekend and, really, in the months afterward.
Milton, Janice and the three others were held without bail. The jury charged each of them with either rape or accessory to rape and kidnapping. April took a week off of work. When she got back she got to work hiring a new assistant. The company had a new C.E.O. hired by the board of directors. A week after coming back April entered her office to find a bouquet of roses there, stems cut short, in a short square vase. She read the card. It just said, "The Sergeant," and left his phone number. She dialed it. 'I should at least thank him.' The Sergeant picked up the phone.
"Sergeant Connors? It's April Dowze. I wanted to thank you for the flowers."
"Oh yeah. I really felt bad about what you went through, during the trial. I know that was hard," he said.
"Still, I don't think you send flowers to the ladies in all of your cases," April said, leaning back in her seat, twisting her finger through her hair, a little surprised at herself. His uniform was very cute.
"You've got me there. April, would you like to have dinner sometime?" the Sergeant got right to the point, just as April did.
"How about tomorrow night?" she asked, "Your place."
"Young lady, you are asking to have your socks knocked off. I make mean ravioli." April laughed.
"It's a date. I'll bring the wine." April hung up the phone. She sat in surprise for a moment. 'Sergeant... Sergeant.' She liked the sound of that. She thought she would continue to call him Sergeant, even though their relationship was to be more intimate now. So she hoped. The Sergeant was a big man, bigger than Milton. He was taller and unlike Milton, who was more lean and muscular, the Sergeant was more muscular but also had a slight layer of fat over him. And he was a policeman. An officer of the law. He was the safest man she could imagine in this vulnerable time. She wanted to curl up in the shelter of his arms.
But he brought something out in her, a little wild streak, a desire to lose control. She readied herself differently for the Sergeant than she had for Milton. Instead of using a fine toothed comb and brush she let her hair air dry wavy and wild. Instead of eye shadows in the browns and neutral tones she wore thick black eyeliner. She wore a dress that was very low cut in the front and tied in a halter style around her neck. It fell just below the knees and tight all the way down. She wore high heeled ankle boots with straps and buckles. She wanted to be a bad girl for the Sergeant. Jennifer stood before the Sergeant's door and messed with her hair. She knocked and he led her to his couch. It was chocolate leather and of modern design. The Sergeant opened the wine and brought two glasses out, one for each of them. They spoke briefly about the trial and the Sergeant inched towards April on the sofa. He put down her glass. He was a big, strong man. He was a Sergeant.
And she began to feel that warmth again, spreading through her insides. But as he neared that other feeling tied to the warmth came, ever since that long weekend that shame came flooding back. It coursed through her veins, through her fingers, up her spine and through her scalp, down the backs of her legs. It filled her. Those two feelings were two halves of a whole, the yin and the yang, the warmth and the shame, like Milton's tattoo. She ran from Milton. And now she ran from the Sergeant.
Epilogue
She couldn't run very far in her heels. The Sergeant walked after her and grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around, his hands digging into her arms in the hallway of his apartment building, his eyes piercing hers.
"I think I understand how you feel, April. I'm a police officer. I'm safe. You can trust me. I've handled this kind of thing before. Why don't we go back inside and talk about it?" he said, holding her back, maintaining eye contact with her, guiding her back into his apartment, pushing all the right buttons. He shut the door behind them, he returned to April her glass of wine and he waited for her to talk. For a long time April sighed, she'd take in a breath and gesture as if she were just about to speak, but no words came out. Finally a flood of words, and tears, came rushing out. Intimate details about the abduction, the rape, the subsequent relationship. The Sergeant too wondered if April's submission was real or just a side effect of the Stockholm Syndrome. He too had urges, like Milton, to dominate April but unlike Milton the Sergeant was a wholly different kind of Dominant. As April was soon to discover. "April, I want to ask you about your submission to Milton. May I ask you about that?" April nodded that it was all right. "Did it ever, at any point, make you feel good?" he asked.
"It did. I had a strong urge to please him. And when I did, I felt so great about myself. But I figured that was all the Stockholm talking. Not really me," said April, taking large sips of her wine.
"April what if it was really you. What if I asked you to embark on a journey with me that starts tonight, with you feeling better, and us working together as Dominant and submissive? Would you take that risk with me, and risk being treated right, risk being lavished, risk being loved. There's something about you April you're so tough, but you're so vulnerable at the same time. No, I don't send flowers to all my female victims. You were the first one." The Sergeant withdrew. April sat thinking deeply for awhile. Then she asked the Sergeant if he really had made that ravioli. The Sergeant went ahead and served dinner. They made small talk which evolved into conversation. The Sergeant couldn't help but feel that he was being interviewed. He was willing to be vulnerable. He could be vulnerable and still in control. April sensed this twilight of vulnerability amidst a world lived under strictest control. She could relate to it. April wanted to feel her vulnerability now too. Yes, she would be willing to go into such a relationship with the Sergeant. She announced her decision. The Sergeant squeezed the hand t
hat was resting on April's lap. He smiled at her. "You've already gone out of your way to please me this evening," he said.
"I have?" she asked. "What have I done?"
"The way you've dressed, made yourself up. It pleases me. You don't normally do this to your hair," he said, stroking it away from her face. "This," he said, gesturing at all of her, "this is a policeman's dream. A sweet little bad girl. What shall we do to you, eh? For getting dressed up so naughtily?" He tapped her cheek. April sat in his silence for a moment. For a moment, she let that warmth well up inside her, like the vines from her dream, growing and filling her stomach. And then she threw herself off the chair onto her knees and pawed at the Sergeant's pants.
"I want your cock in my mouth. You should shove your cock in my face!" she exclaimed. The Sergeant grabbed her by the shoulders and placed her back in her seat.
"Whoa whoa. Patience, kid," he said.
"What do you mean kid? You're, what? Five years older than me?" April asked defensively, their hands still clasped.
"Eleven. I read your file. I'm eleven years older than you. All the more reason you should listen to me. You've got to have some patience... Now I think naughty girls like you deserve a spanking. Don't you agree?" It had become so rare later in their relationship that Milton treated April to a spanking. It required too much care; it seemed April was undeserving of that care. But with the Sergeant she was deserving, she was pleasing, she was good. He led her by her wrist to the couch onto which she climbed lithely and proudly, displaying her curves, arching and bending, stretching herself to the furthest most pose.
April knelt on all fours with her back arched severely. The Sergeant ran his open palm up her lower back, around her zipper seams and up her spine.
"This dress fits you finely. Has it been tailored to fit your unique figure. By unique, I mean to refer to your tiny waist of course," flattered the Sergeant. He quickly unclasped the dress' clasp and unzipped its zipper in one, single motion. Pulling the dress down from the front, having untied the halter, he pulled until the dress was at April's knees. April was wearing a red lace push up bra and matching lace thong. The Sergeant pulled the thong down to April's dress. He wrapped his right hand around her neck and stroked her esophagus. He ran his hand down her spine and just down to the tip of her ass, then his hand landed on her hamstring. He massaged and caressed it, with each stroke taking in more skin, squeezing deeper into her flesh until he was squeezing her ass and pulling it open. Because of the extreme arch to April's back this squeezing revealed all of April's insides, her asshole, her pussy lips opened and shut with each grope until the Sergeant released his hand from her and it landed back on her ass not groping this time, but in a single solitary clap. He leaned over her and whispered in her ear. She turned to face him.
"Red," he said to her, snapping her bra, then unclasping it.
"Red?" April had grown oblivious to such civility as having a safe word. She had to be told twice.
"Yes, red." She understood. Their breaths intermingled for a moment and the Sergeant stood up again. He clapped her again. Again and again. His hand landed closer and closer to her pussy and occasionally a finger would land inside it. April tried to press herself upon these wandering fingers but they always disappeared, they always teased. She grew restless, bothered, her pussy lips throbbed severely, giving her the sensation they were fluttering. Her insides throbbed, and she was near orgasm, the Sergeant's fingers inching her closer to the edge. A tear dragged with it a thin line of mascara down April's face, because with every fingertip of pleasure came an immense handful of pain on her rear. The tension was almost too much. She gurgled and moaned.
"Sergeant!" she finally cried out.
"I like how you call me Sergeant. Let's keep it that way. Yes?" he asked. His voice was deep.
"What was that word again?" she asked.
"It was red," his voice a low rumble now.
"Yes. Red. Thank you. Please." April gestured at the Sergeant to continue. He smacked her one more time and leaned into her ear again, one knee on the couch, kneeling over her.
"This spanking was administered because of your naughty dress. From now on you will dress naughtily only for me, in public only with my permission. Do you understand?" he asked. April turned around on the couch so she was lying on her back. She put her hands around the back of the Sergeant's neck as he knelt over her. She nodded. The Sergeant picked her up by her back and stood her up. He pulled her dress up and tied it around the back of her neck. He walked her to the door and told her he was sure she was quite tired. She nodded again, in a trance. He kissed her, deeply, holding her jaws in his hands like a big fruit, kissing her as if he had taken a deep taste. "I'll call you with instructions," he said.
"Okay," said April and she walked to her car. April took to heart this new directive of not dressing naughtily. She took it to mean that she was to not be naughty at all without the Sergeant's permission. As she waited for him to call, she coiffed her hair especially fastidiously, she ate only healthful meals, she worked out every day, and she went to bed early every night. She didn't masturbate in any way, though her body ached and throbbed for the Sergeant as she remembered her spanking, his wandering fingers. By the time the Sergeant called her a week later she was wound so tight she was nearly bursting at the seams. Every word he spoke seemed so sexual. Every word he spoke was intended to be sexual. Her body relaxed at the sound of his cool low southern voice.
"I want you to come over. I want to try dinner again, but I want to take things a little further. Are you comfortable with that, April?"
"Yes." She had so much to tell him, but now that the time was here, her mind just went blank.
"Good. We'll discuss things in more detail when you arrive. One more thing: I want you to dress naughtily. More naughtily than you did the other night. And wear an overcoat when you are in public."
"An overcoat? How naughty am I supposed to dress?" she asked, very curious, her heart racing.
"Very naughty." The phone clicked. April hung it up. She had two hours to get ready. 'How naughty?' She immediately washed her hair, letting it air dry again. When it was dry she parted it in the middle and tied two ribbons in it making two pigtails low on her head. She put on her black eye makeup and contemplated getting dressed. She realized she had been restraining herself all week and the Sergeant had given her permission to dress very naughtily. She put on black knee sock fishnets that had a ruffle and a ribbon and bow just under the knee. She wore six inch platform heels, threw her overcoat on, grabbed her purse, and was out the door.
When she arrived at the Sergeant's house he opened the door and kissed her hands. A hearty, comforting smell filled her lungs.
"What is that wonderful smell?" asked April, walking in. The Sergeant closed the door behind her. He was pleased to see her overcoat.
"That's oxtail stew," he said.
"I love oxtail stew!" she exclaimed. The Sergeant eyed her frilly knee socks and wondered what naughty thing she was wearing under her coat. He decided to prolong the tension and have her leave the overcoat on through dinner. Throughout dinner the Sergeant stole prolonged glances at April's overcoat for any clue as to what she was wearing. He eyed her neckline and breasts, searching for a wrinkle, some boning, a tuft of lace, only to determine that her breasts could only possibly appear natural under there. He looked up her hem for some time only to come to the sudden realization that she wasn't wearing any panties. He looked up at her. She smiled at him. He smiled back.
After dinner the Sergeant asked her a series of questions about what she currently was and wasn't comfortable doing. He led her into the bedroom, gesturing for her to go this way and that, excited to take off the coat, open what he was sure was going to be a marvelous package. When they got to the bedroom he kissed her and walked into her, walking her towards the bed and he pushed her onto it. April was lying on it with her knees bent and her feet on the floor. Her knees were slightly spread, her arms were bent and up on the bed as if to say
, "Stop," but her limbs were lax, her head was turned to one side, she was labile. The Sergeant roughly untied her coat belt. He unbuttoned her coat buttons. He pulled her coat aside and saw she was naked underneath.
"My," he said, looking her up and down. "This is very naughty," he said, kneeling over her. April rotated her pelvis towards him, a smile shone across her face and became a giggle. She was like a girl. She stuck her finger in her mouth. The Sergeant tore it out, grabbing her by the wrist and pinning it to the bed above her head. He straddled her torso and kissed her lips. He unbuckled his pants and put April's hands on his cock. He was so big in every way. April stared up at the Sergeant and licked her palms. She rubbed his cock as he fucked her hands until he could stand it no longer and he shoved his cock down her throat, fucking her face steadily. April lengthened her neck, she circled her tongue around the tip of the Sergeant's cock, she reached around and grabbed his ass, pressing him deeper down her throat. The Sergeant called out, shoving himself into her and staying put, April's throat throbbing and relaxing around his cock. She wasn't sure how long she could stay like this. The Sergeant stared at her, he could see the discomfort building in her eyes. April's neatly penciled in eyebrows wrinkled. Her face contorted. He could feel the throbbing getting faster. He waited a few more seconds and pulled out.
The Sergeant jumped back onto the floor and offered April his hands. She sat up, took his hands, and stood up, her coat sloppily draping across her shoulders. The Sergeant ran his hands up along April's shoulders and in doing so, brushed her coat off them, dropping it to her elbows. He straightened her arms and dropped the coat completely off her. The Sergeant shoved his fingers inside April's mouth and ran them down her chest, her belly, down to her pussy. April uncrossed her ankles and ran one of her feet up and down the back of the Sergeant's leg. He tickled her briefly and pulled his fingers away teasingly.
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