by Carla Kane
Drake released his grip and pushed Karen forward with both hands. With her feet still on the ground, she spilled over onto the desk, her arms splayed out before her and her ass stuck up in the air.
‘Stay down,’ Drake growled as he reached forward to touch her back. He drew his fingernails up along her spine to the back of her bra and then unhooked the clasp. Karen’s tits plopped out beneath her on the cold wooden desk. Drake brought his fingers back towards him along her flesh until they rested on her panties.
‘You wanted this all along, didn’t you slut?’ he demanded.
‘Yes,’ Karen sighed, her face pressed down on the wooden surface of the table.
Drake raised his hand and brought it forcefully back down against her ass, the slap burning fiercely and sending a tingle through her whole body.
‘Speak up,’ he said, ‘you wanted this all along, didn’t you?’
‘Yes!’ Karen cried, ‘yes sir, I wanted you always!’
Drake pulled her panties roughly down around her ankles, leaving her ass and hot wet crevice completely naked to the world. He kneeled down and shoved his face against her, his hot irresistible tongue licking from the bottom of her pussy lips up over her asshole and on to the cleft of her buttocks. Karen thrust her hips back as he grabbed her cheeks in both hands and squeezed.
‘Oh sir,’ she sighed.
‘Shut your mouth slut,’ Drake answered, ‘you’ll speak only when spoken to.’
He buried his face into her ass and poked and flecked his tongue at her pussy lips. Karen cried out with pleasure, her cunt seemed about to explode with ecstasy. It had never felt like this before, she didn’t know it could – and he still hadn’t even put it in yet.
Drake brought one of his hands around her hip and pushed against her mound as he sucked at her plump frothing cunt.
‘You like this, huh?’ he grunted, pulling away for a moment.
‘Yes!’ Karen cried, ‘please don’t stop!’
Drake drew his fingers down towards her aching clit, stroking in a semi-circle, moving tantalizingly closer and closer to her nub. He pressed his face back against her crevice, driving his tongue up inside her as his finger passed over her clitoris for the first time. He growled, his voice muffled through Karen’s flesh and she felt it reverberate inside her. Her pussy clenched longingly, begging for him to fill her. She longed for him to fill her.
As he lapped at her cunt, Drake rubbed her clit fiercely. The pain made her shudder but she wanted it so badly, it was like nothing she’d ever felt before, every nerve in her body burned for him. If she were to die at this moment, she would die fulfilled.
Drake released his hold on her and stood up. ‘Do you want me to fuck you?’ he asked, his voice deep and throaty.
‘Yes sir,’ Karen moaned. The perspiration of her breath had built up on the surface of the desk and her face was wet as it pressed up against the cool wood. She was powerless to resist, compromised by her desire and rendered completely immobile from the pleasure he had inflicted on her.
She listened as Drake unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. She wished she could look back for a glimpse at his herculean member, but she dared not for fear of reprisal.
‘Keep your head down,’ Drake ordered as though reading her mind.
Karen closed her eyes as she listened to him come to her. She shuddered at first contact, as the hot tip of his helmet touched against her lips. Using his hand to guide it, Drake drew his cock up and down the length of her slit, slowly gaining speed as he did so, pushing a little further with each circuit.
Oh it was big! Karen had never had one that size before (not that she’d had all that many, in fairness) and she wasn’t sure she could take it. Regardless, she knew she wanted it. She knew it with every trembling cell in her body.
With a grunt Drake pushed forward and Karen winced with the pain as her pussy strained to accommodate him.
‘Take it you bitch,’ Drake ordered, ‘you know you want to take it!’
‘Yes!’ Karen screamed, ‘give it to, force it on me!’
Drake thrust harder still and his huge cock ploughed into her, filling her completely, burning inside her.
‘Urgh!’ he grunted triumphantly, before pulling almost all the way out again.
With great force he drove it back inside her, the skin of her ass slapping against his. With each glorious thrust, he grunted like a warrior in battle, slowly besting some worthy enemy.
Karen trembled inside, she was almost numb from the pleasure and force, but burned still as her master fucked her. She could feel the climax on its way. She was forgetting everything – everything but his face, and the pleasure of taking him, of holding him inside herself, giving herself completely and irrevocably. Yes, yes it was coming now. She was coming! She screamed out with pleasure, her back arching and hips thrusting back against him. Her arms stretched out along the table and her mouth pressed against the wood to stifle her screams.
Drake pulled her tighter over him and began driving himself into her harder and faster still. Karen was powerless before him, all strength had left her body, as he exploded inside her, hot and wet.
Panting Drake let his cock come to a rest inside her for a moment before pulling it out again. He reached down and took a handful of her hair close to the scalp.
‘Get up,’ he said, half-pulling, half-guiding her up off the table. He twisted her head around to face him. His face was red and flushed and his eyes burned with the ageless power of oceans. Without a word he pushed her mouth up against his own and kissed her deeply, filling her mouth with his tongue.
He released his grip. ‘Do you know why I really went down there today?’ he asked.
‘No sir,’ Karen whispered.
‘I lost my secretary last week,’ Drake continued, ‘I’d seen you around, thought you might be up to the job…’
‘Yes?’
‘Well you’re coffee-serving skills are just no good,’ Drake smiled, ‘but you’re obviously qualified in plenty of other ways. So what do you say, you want the job?’
Karen couldn’t believe her ears. Personal Secretary to Drake Masterson himself? ‘Yes!’ she cried, ‘yes sir!’
‘Good,’ Drake nodded, ‘well then get me a cup of coffee and this time: be careful how you serve it…’
‘Anything else sir?’
‘Yeah, after that you get your ass back over to me, I’m not done punishing you for earlier yet.’
Karen smiled. ‘Very good sir,’ she whispered in a meek little voice and hurried over to the coffee machine in the corner of his office. It sounded like she had a long day’s work ahead of her yet...
# # #
Boss Sheriff
Sex in the Hot Texan Cell
It was hot as hell that day. And getting pulled over by some redneck cop was the last thing Clara needed, since she was already a whole day late for the family reunion that she was traveling to. So it was no great surprise then, when getting pulled over was just exactly what happened. Typical.
Clara Silverman wasn’t used to the heat, nor was she used to the vast desolation of the desert. As a hotshot New York lawyer she usually traveled only by subway or cab and rarely had the opportunity to look towards a horizon that was any further than the buildings down the street. So the sparse, hazy golden plains of the Texan desert had awoken something inside her, some yearning or instinct, a hunger for a different, rawer way of life…
And the family reunion down in Corpus Christi, the reunion that she’d solemnly sworn to her mother she’d attend on time, had already started the day before. It was the damn Peterson case – she’d been held back in the city to go over the files and was now way behind schedule. Typical.
So it was no wonder she was putting the pedal to the metal in the small rental Ford Focus that she’d driven all the way from New York over the past couple of days – the desert highway was bereft of any other drivers anyway. Or so she thought…
She was on the outskirts of some one-horse town or o
ther in the south Texan wilderness when it happened. It was so damned hot and Clara was cursing her decision to make a road-trip out of the opportunity instead of just booking a flight. It had all sounded so much more romantic in her head. But it was so hot. And the constant driving was making her sweaty and cramped. And there was nothing but trash on the radio. So no wonder she was breaking the law. But try telling that to Boss Sheriff.
She heard the siren first – shrill and loud – and then she saw the flashing red and blue lights in the rear-view mirror.
‘Aw crap,’ Clara muttered and eased off the accelerator.
She pulled into the side of the road and wound down the window, watching through the mirror to see what kind of hick passed for law enforcement out here in the sticks. If anything, this was probably going to be interesting at least.
In the mirror, she watched the door of the patrol-car open and saw a huge hulking cop step out. He wore a pair of tight black pants and a khaki shirt that clung to his muscly chest. On his breast a golden sheriff’s badge glistened in the hot sunlight and on his head he wore a wide-brimmed white Stetson cowboy hat.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Clara whispered as she watched him strut towards her, as cool as John Wayne.
The cop had on a pair of dark black aviator sunglasses and his jaw was like granite, chiseled around a serious frown that chewed idly on a toothpick. As he sauntered up to her car he opened his mouth and spat a stream of tobacco juice through his teeth out across the sizzling asphalt.
‘You know how fast you were going back there, little Missy?’
Clara had to smile. Was this guy for real? The Sheriff had leaned in over her window, casting a strong, cool shadow against her body. He smelt of aftershave, tobacco and strong bourbon.
‘Well gee officer,’ Clara cooed in her best little girl’s voice, playing along with this sexist redneck asshole, ‘I guess I got a little distracted…’
The sheriff did not speak. He just stood there with his iron face by the window, his expression unknowable behind the darkness of his shades.
‘Ma’am,’ he said eventually, ‘this is a fifty-five mile per hour zone. You were going much faster than that.’
Clara suddenly winced. That wasn’t true; this was a freeway. What was this meathead trying to pull?
‘Aha excuse me,’ she said, dropping her twee girly tone and assuming the full sternness of her best lawyer voice, ‘this is a freeway. I may be a city-slicker, but I know what the speed limit is on a freeway and it sure as shit ain’t fifty-five.’
The sheriff was silent again. His cold, strong presence filled Clara’s car and she shivered for a second before silently reproaching herself for showing any weakness.
‘Well now listen here,’ the sheriff spoke, ‘maybe you thought this was a freeway but it ain’t. You passed the town line for Breslin Springs about a mile and a half back. That’s my town, little Missy.’
Suddenly it was all too much for Clara. The heat, the sweat, the cramps and now this chauvinistic asshole toying with her here in the desert, probably because he hadn’t seen a woman without hair on her face for months.
‘Little Missy?’ Clara sneered, turning to face the sheriff, ‘seriously? Well how about this then, little Mister, you say this is a town? Who are you trying to kid? All I see is desert in every direction.’
Again the short spell of silence. When he spoke his voice was as calm and as deep as it ever was. ‘Now listen here girly; Breslin Springs is the town where I was born and now that I’m a man, I’ve taken it upon myself to protect said town. What if you was to have hit somebody, speeding along out here like it weren’t nobody’s business? Whose fault would that be?’
Clara sighed. ‘Oh give me a break,’ she said, ‘fine: you’re just doing your job. Why don’t you write me up and let me go on my way.’
‘You know you got an attitude problem, little Miss.’
‘Whatever, just give me my ticket.’
The sheriff stood back from the window and produced a notepad. He began to scrawl a few lines and then tore off the page. He reached back towards the car and held the ticket out for Clara to take.
‘Here you go,’ he said.
‘Fine,’ Clara muttered and snatched the ticket, ‘asshole.’
The sheriff paused, his huge, formidable presence wholly directed back on her. ‘What did you say?’
For a second Clara felt a chill; the sheriff was so big and strong and they were all alone out here. What if…? She shook her head and smiled. Get a grip Clara, she told herself, it’s the twenty-first century. Now show him who’s boss.
‘You heard me…’ she said.
The sheriff nodded to himself slowly and then turned his huge head to the side. He spat a stream of tobacco juice out on the road and then turned back to Clara. ‘Step out of the car,’ he said.
‘Aw shit,’ Clara whispered and then turned her most sympathetic face to the lawman. ‘Look officer, I’m sorry if I caused any offense, ok? I’m already late for an appointment across the state…’
‘Ma’am,’ the sheriff repeated, ‘I said: step out of the car…’
Clara sighed and then unbuckled her seatbelt. She opened the car door and stepped out into the scorching heat. She wore a white blouse and a pair of tan slacks and she was sure there were sweat stains underneath her arms. How embarrassing
‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I shouldn’t have said what I did, I know that. Lesson learned…’
The sheriff slowly shook his head and Clara marveled for a moment at his stature. He must have been several feet taller than she was.
‘Naw-aw,’ the sheriff said, ‘little missy, I’m afraid you’re in no state to be driving. You need a little time to cool off and calm down before I let you back on the road. Someone could get hurt…’
A wave of anger flashed through her. ‘Are you kidding me? You sexist son-of-a-bitch!’
The ghost of a smile touched the side of the sheriff’s rigid mouth. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said, ‘just like I told you. Ma’am I’m going to ask you to turn around and put your hands behind your back so I can cuff you.’
Clara winced bitterly. ‘Oh come on,’ she said, ‘you know there’s no need for that. You’re just fucking with me now…’
‘Protocol ma’am,’ the sheriff shrugged, ‘that’s the letter of the law. Now do like I told you before I have to draw my weapon…’
Clara looked for a moment at the huge pistol holstered on the sheriff’s hip. Her eyes followed across along the tight black pants to the hem of his crotch and for just a second she wondered about his other weapon… She blinked tightly. Get a grip Clara, she told herself.
‘Little missy I am still waiting over here,’ the sheriff spoke, ‘but I won’t wait much longer.’
‘Fine,’ Clara muttered turning around, ‘this is what you good old boys like, isn’t it? To see women humiliated, to see us weak?’
The sheriff chuckled for a moment, droll and deep, a sound which only annoyed Clara even more as she waited for him to come up behind her and slap on the cuffs. ‘Little missy,’ he said, ‘I’m just following the law. Hands together.’
Clara felt his strong presence behind her, smelt his musk, as he took her wrists in his huge suede hands. The metal slapped around her; cold, tight, unbreakable.
The sheriff placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her back to face his own car. ‘Ok Missy,’ he chuckled, ‘start walking. We’ll get you cooled down from this tantrum and then you can get back on the road.’
‘Oh give me a fucking break,’ Clara muttered, ‘tantrum? You are one backwards yokel asshole, aren’t you?’
The sheriff did not speak. He was behind her as they walked so she couldn’t see his face, but she wondered had she at last gotten through to him? Hit a nerve perhaps?
‘Lady,’ he said, ‘I’m only doing my job.’
‘Yeah right…’
They reached the sheriff’s car and he opened the back-door. ‘After you,’ he said and that faint, infuri
ating hint of a smile played against his lips again.
‘What a gentleman,’ Clara sneered and climbed into the car.
The back-seat was torn, with bits of the stuffing pulled out, and separated from the front by a rusty metal grille. It was so humiliating, but on the bright side, at least she’d have a conversation piece when she got to the reunion. And surely her mother couldn’t blame this one on her.
The sheriff opened the front door and climbed into the car. He started the engine and the sound of Hank Williams singing started up on the radio.
‘Hey good looking, what you got cooking…?’
Clara shook her head and smiled to herself. This was too much.
‘So what’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Harvey, ma’am,’ the sheriff replied, ‘but most people round here just call me Boss.’
‘Harvey what?’ Clara asked, ‘I want to know so I can make an official complaint against you when all this is over. I’m a lawyer you know…’
The sheriff was silent for a moment, but when he spoke he sounded like he was smiling, a fact which only served to further infuriate his prisoner. ‘A lawyer, huh? Well phewee that must have been hard work to get there. My name’s Harvey Klein Ma’am – Sheriff Harvey Klein…’
‘But most people just call you Boss, right?’
‘Uh-huh; the Boss of Breslin Springs.’
‘What a distinction,’ Clara muttered and looked out the window.
Well apparently it was a town, but it probably wouldn’t have passed for one anywhere other than out here in the sticks. There was a diner, a store and a police station and not much else. It was outside the police station where the sheriff parked the patrol car. He cleared his throat and then stepped outside.
‘Come on now,’ he said, holding the door open, ‘let’s not make any more trouble out of this than we have to…’
