Modus Operandi

MODUS OPERANDI

The first of a bevy of stories to be submitted from the memoirs of Chief Inspector Lewis, retired.

A recently promoted Detective Lieutenant investigates a series of unsolved brutal rapes transpiring over a number of years and locations.  Their sadistic M.O.’s mostly all the same, and escalating, all involving beautiful young professional women while his partnering up with a female detective leads to a long and twisting tale.

                         ***THIS STORY IS BING SUBMITTED IN A TWELVE PART SERIES***

Part One

Chapter One… A cold case assignment

       Another twelve, thirteen hour day, working weeks on end with just an occasional off day thrown in here and there, Lt. Lewis, a recently promoted veteran homicide detective rummages through the cold case files, again spending an evening alone in his office, door shut, a single light shining down across the stack of cases.  Checking, double checking the files, comparing reports ranging back over ten, even more then a dozen years, the evidence is chilling, the emerging improbable suspect even more so.

       The modus operandi of the latest case from just over a month ago, the victim young, attractive, a professional, he remembers back to the eerily similar case he responded to back as a young beat cop.  Its weathered file also lying on the desk in front of him, he thinks back to the initial run as if it happened yesterday.  Early morning just out of roll call, dispatched to the heart of his beat, an area where he actually grew up in, he was sent to what had been an old riverboat Captain’s manor high on the hill in Tusculum Heights.  Remembering the wooden structured building being nearly dilapidated as a kid growing up in the neighborhood, now a renovated ‘painted lady’ reminiscent of stereotypical San Francisco properties, now split up into trendy Yuppie condos overlooking a distant but scenic view of the Ohio River, he remembers the scene, vividly.

       Dispatched to an unknown trouble run, a woman not reporting to work, her phone off the hook, the neighborhood’s quiet that morning.  Giving his signal ‘35’ while rolling to a stop in the crushed limestone gravel parking area behind the towering four story Victorian style mansion, finding the entry door locked, advised by the dispatcher the condo was a first floor unit, a few paces around the side of the house, and even today the image’s still fresh in his mind of the vivid view though the partially parted curtain inside one of the oversized floor to ceiling windows on its south side.

Thinking back as if he were still there, he remembers reflexively calling for a supervisor, a life squad, flipping to channel five on his radio, getting permission to break a window pane from a boss, all taking less then a couple brief moments.  Yanking the ‘PR24” from its ring on his gun belt, flicking the black titanium nightstick across the glistening pane even before given the go ahead, unfastening the latch behind the shattered glass and climbing in, he can remember his heart pounding, his hand on his police issued model 65 still holstered as he stepped toward the bed.  Its stark view still burned into his memory, the only sound the constant, annoying sound of the phone laying off the hook on the night stand, its recorded message over and over again telling no one in particular to please hang up.

       Seeing her hands flinch, her stomach hollowing, the room dimly lit by the sun filtering in through the broken glass, the sight of her nude on her back, bound spread-eagled on soiled, disheveled sheets.  He remembers her head twisting, bucking back into the pillow, the grunts from her closed lips, her eyes squinted shut, yet appearing to be trying to blink as she obviously felt the crisp morning air from the broken window fluttering across her naked and battered body.  Again scanning the room, the closed bedroom door, reacting on auto pilot, initially wanting to assist her, yet knowing he had to check for an intruder, whoever did this to her.  Quickly stepping toward the bedroom door, jerking his handkerchief from his rear pocket, twisting the knob, finding the door locked from the inside, returning to the bed, still reacting without thinking, just functioning with his training, scanning her nude body, quickly checking her for injuries while reaching for her wrist, he still remembers leaning across her, awkwardly whispering, mumbling something in her ear that he’s the police, that she’s safe, that he’s here to help her.

       Again just as if it were yesterday as he holds the file in his hand, he begins glancing over the investigating detective’s notes, the lackluster investigation of the incident.  Again he’s certain if he’d been the lead detective back then things would have been different, much different.  Seeing the still clear photos of the bed, her imprint still visible in the soiled sheets, the tattered duct tape still on the four corner posts of the bed she’d furnished the condo with in the proper style of the century and a half old mansion, he continues to think back to that day.

       Remembering tossing his police jacket across her for whatever reason, unbinding her wrists, seeing her jerking, lunging upright as he unbound her ankles, her body trembling as she crossed her arms firmly across his jacket partially covering her bruised breasts, clinging to it, mumbling with just unintelligible grunts coming from her clenched lips, her eyes still closed, what appeared to be sleepers covering both blinking lids, again the realization shocking as he watched her reach up, frantically scrape her fingernails across her lips, her eyes, her loudening grunts practically hysterical.

       Recalling grabbing her wrists, pulling her hands away, the reddish scrapes instantaneous across her face from her own fingernails, holding her arms down toward her sides, noticing the same tinted fluid in her ears, finally realizing she’d been sadistically silenced with something like glue, actually winding up being superglue.  The same solution in her eyes, on her lips, it became obvious she’d been stifled, blinded, and made deaf while bound naked and assaulted on the bed.

       Still sorting through the file’s contents, still thinking back as he reads the detailed timelines of the bosses showing up, the medics next, the girl carted to the hospital, he also remembers that in minutes a half dozen cruisers filling the parking area, the obvious stupid comments, the typical sick cop jokes, wanting to know if he had his camera ready, what she looked like, felt like.  Again reliving all the sordid memories of that day of finally the area being cleared with him left to secure the crime scene until the downtown investigators, the hot shots from violent crime unit could respond.  Remembering his jacket rumpled on the floor, picking it up, slipping it back on after she was transported, the scent of her naked body clinging to it, again, all just like it happened yesterday.

       Flipping through a few more police stills, seeing the shot of her dresser with several picture frames, one of her framed photos taken on a Florida beach in front of Daytona’s boardwalk, it was no wonder why the other guys seemed almost jealous they didn’t get the run instead of him.  Young, tanned, a model’s body in a string bikini seductively posing, smiling back without a care in the world, then thinking back to the stark contrast of her bruised and naked body stretched across that disheveled bed, remembering his adrenaline flowing from the uncertainty of the initial situation, not even sure at first that she was still alive, now almost embarrassed, he remembers later after she was transported by the medics just how impressive he thought her tits were.

       That case one of his earlier memories of being a beat cop, the incident fading from but not entirely escaping his mind over the years, shuffled amongst so many others of a big city cop, now after all this time, its come full circle as one of a number of cases for him to solve.  One of at least a half dozen or more with the same modus operandi in the use of the glue, but with their crime scenes scattered throughout the city, and over a number of years, everything else’s so eerily similar with young, attractive women being ravaged in various sadistic ways, all professional without a hint of a sordid past.  Still, even more eerie, the investigation seems to be taking him to where he doesn’t want to go.

Again reading her reluctant interview, her haphazard description of her assault given to the lead investigator, a guy ready to retire, counting the days, he remembers the detective’s nonchalant attitude when he finally showed up to the scene a couple hours later, like why the fuck was he being bothered with this shit.  Not even given the courtesy of him having a clergy or even a police woman present for her to talk too when he finally interviewed her the next day, just the typical, the facts ma’am, fuck being humiliated, just jot down the graphic details so I can finish drinking my coffee before it gets cold, he can just shake his head now, wonder how fucked up things were back then as he again can almost hear her voice as he reads the scribbled hand written statement.

       Following her description of the day, coming home, stepping into her condo, an acrid rag flattened across her face by someone waiting behind the door with latex gloves on, the stifling blackness of being blinded, nauseated, losing consciousness.  Raped, sodimized, flogged, sadistically clamped over the most discreet areas of her nude body over a period of hours, having urinated on herself in her bed, all beginning after being revived by another acrid odor of a capsule brushed back and forth beneath her nostrils, finding herself bound spread-eagled, her eyes, lips, even ears glued shut.  The dread, terror of just being able to survive, the tearing pain of being mounted over and over lasting possibly the entire night, seeming for an eternity, she could give no description of her attacker, not even his voice, nothing except how harsh, thick the penetrations of her were between the brutal floggings of her naked body.

       Skipping to the bottom of the inactive file, the now retired detective’s comments, he again shakes his head with the summery basically leading to one of her boyfriends more then likely did it as part of a ‘kinky’ sex session, all based on her supposedly uncooperative attitude, but in all reality, his not give a shit investigation.  One more manila envelope unsealed on the bottom of the box, a number of hospital photos, the shots of her bruises, scrapes across her face from her own fingernails, the look in her eyes after having the glue dissolved, swollen lids open but still remnants of the glue.  Again her abused body contrasts that photo on the beach taken just months apart.  Stuffing the photos, the reports back into their file, turning the light off, locking the office, he heads home for a few hours rest, alone, mentally exhausted.

Chapter Two… Partnering up with a familiar face

       The interview confirmed, having let Detective Sergeant Johnson accompany him, she brushes through the original file as he drives.  The ‘M.O.’ the initial case involving the super glue, the woman raped and assaulted, not a hint of the perpetrator’s identity available, she glances over the first victim’s statement.

       “Well Lew.”  Detective Johnson nods as she glances toward the open file on her lap.  “I guess I should thank you for involving me in this investigation you’ve decided to take over, huh?... By the way, how’d you get me freed up for this?”

       “Hey,” he nods back as she continues reading the report, shuffling through some police stills of the crime scene.  “I thought it could help give you a more rounded background as an investigator supervisor, besides, I need a buffer talking to those women about this shit, don’t you think?... At least, that’s what I passed across the Chief, and he obviously agreed.”

       “So you picked me, huh?”  Another half smile on her face as her eyes become transfixed on some various photos from a stack taken at the hospital.  Vivid shots of the victim’s naked body, of her accumulated bruises, tape burns across her wrists, ankles, the harshest marks’ across her bare breasts as she shuffles through the stills.  Shuffling, there’s a couple more close-ups of the still present groves of indentations embedded in her discolored nipples and areolas standing out in the color photos from a lengthy session with serrated clover clamps, clamps left at the scene along with the rest of his sex toys including a couple of obscenely huge black dildos he’d used repeatedly on her.  Flipping open the other photo envelope of stills taken at the crime scene, she nudges him across his thigh with a flick of her wrist as she mumbles, “Holy shit, this girl really got worked over, didn’t she?”  Glancing at the array of items aligned for that set of photos, the pitch of her voice rises.  “You see these fucking dildos he crammed inside her?... Fuck me!”  Flipping through the stills, finding the photo of the set of Japanese clover clamps, holding it up, she glances toward the serrated tongs. 

Glancing briefly toward her while trying to stay attentive to the downtown traffic, he just slowly shakes his head, can’t help noticing her nipples hardening beneath her braless white blouse as her left hands’ softly cupping her right breast, her thumb gently circling the silhouette of the hardening nub as her chest arches outward.  Her fingernail and thumbnail closing, pinching through her blouse as a couple of the top buttons unsnap, glancing back and forth toward the road, he can’t help watching her little act as she’s obviously getting turned on by the photos while she quietly tugs at her nipple without the slightest embarrassment.  Her body still tight, her nearly bare tits obviously still firm, he thinks of a few years back when they worked an auto robbery task force together in the Madisonville area for a little over a month before their promotions to Sergeant.  The two of them paired undercover with a uniform backup available if needed, the ‘power shift’ of eight at night till four in the morning, the six weeks led to some interesting moments.

       “Whatcha’ thinking of Lew?... Huh?”  She smirks, glancing over, a noticeable grin on her face as she catches him glancing down through her parting blouse at her bare breast.  A face still young enough, and pretty enough to draw plenty of attention as she lets her fingers slip away from her blouse, buttoning a button, she asks, “Remember back to that auto theft task force the first time we were teamed up?...  Those were some interesting nights, weren’t they, huh?”

       “Damn, Jessica… Huh?... Huh?... Huh?”  He smirks as he watches her stacking the photos together on her lap, taking another long look at a full frontal view of the victim’s naked body, her arms raised, legs spread showing where she’d been abused.  Slowly shaking his head back and forth as he again focuses on the street, he mimics her again.  “Huh?... Huh?  That all the fuck you can say?”

       “Huh?... Not really.”  A girlish grin as she drops the envelope on the seat between them, a reach across, her hand slipping up across his right thigh, fingers brushing, flicking at his trousers as she glances playfully toward his crotch, she gently taps her fingers before flattening her hand across his thigh and leans closer toward him.  “I can still hum pretty damn good, too!”

       “I bet!”  The obvious flirtation, still glancing out over the steering wheel as she presses closer, the sense of her touching him brings back the memories even more vividly, especially of the night in the parking lot down at Annie’s, the hard rock bar with off duty police details down by the river.  Recollecting back to that assignment as the buildings flick by on the outskirts of the city, leaving the downtown area, he thinks back, back to just a couple nights into that taskforce, back to Annie’s parking lot.  Close to closing time for the nightspot, the Madisonville area dead with nothing happening, he remembers how they cruised down to bullshit with some of the off duty uniformed detail working the lot at the east side club.

       The thoughts of pulling in from the street, the dimly lit lot full of cars, the three man detail hanging out just inside the open doors to the club’s entrance, he recalls Johnson sliding over next to him across the bench seat of the old undercover Buick after flipping the arm rest up out of the way.

       “We’re undercover, have to look right.”  He remembers her grinning, practically snuggling against him as she giggled.  “You gonna’ put your arm around me?... Huh?”

       Recalling pulling over to the side, actually the darker part of the lot, parking facing the far corner of the front of the building behind another couple cars, he remembers the playful nudge, her breath on his neck, her hand flattening across his thigh, her teasing voice.  “Come on, we’re undercover, at least act like we’re making out damn-it.”  The acting would have won an Oscar, especially when her head dropped below the dashboard and her moist lips sucked his cock into her mouth across her flicking tongue after ripping his zipper partially open.  That was the start of nearly six weeks of their task force partnership and relationship.  It was also just a few days before he heard the rumors of her being a sex addict, even seeing the division’s shrink more then a couple times for her problem.  Then again, he did a lot of thinking with his dick back in the day, back when a guy who got laid with frequency was a stud, a girl with more then one man was a slut.

       “Remember Annie’s club that first night?”

       Her voice breaking his thoughts along with the feel of her roving fingers probing between his legs, he’s somehow not surprised that her minds’ on the same wavelength as his.  “Yep, yea sure I remember,” he quietly answers, an octave or so higher as he feels her fingers slipping further between his thighs, curling around his hardening shaft.  “That was the start of an interesting six weeks,” he grunts, “what?... We wound up doing it about everyway imaginable after that… Damn, practically every night too.”

       “Yea, imagine if we’d got caught that night by one of the detail,” she practically whispers as she gives a brisk squeeze with her tensing fingers while sliding closer.  “We must have been crazy, think of the trouble we’d have been in for me giving you a head job on duty!... We know better now, don’t we?”

       Barely listening to her voice, feeling her fingers gripping, stroking through the trouser’s material, he senses her hand squeezing even firmer, her fingernails pinching the engorging crown of his cock.  “Damn, Jessica!”

       “What?... You don’t still like me playing with your dick anymore?… Fuck, I can feel the big ‘ol thing swelling in my hand, just like that very first time,” she grins as she leans the rest of the way across the seat, unzips his fly on down with her free hand.  “It’s been too long, huh… Just like old times, okay?”

       Head lowering, her moist lips encircling his throbbing shaft, her tongue flicking, teeth nibbling, he keeps both hands on the wheel, fingers gripping firm while her head presses between his stomach and the bottom of the tilt steering wheel as he reflexively flips it up a couple notches.  Her brown hair spreading, flowing across her shoulders, fingers stroking, head bobbing, each sucking sensation followed by the pinching sensation of her teeth grinding across the pulsing crown of his throbbing shaft, he feels her head lowering, raising, her mouth, her throat consuming his entire cock, the sucking sensation drawing his pre-cum from deep inside his groins as she quietly grunts, moans, twists her neck sensually back and forth, back and forth in a steady rhythm while her fingernails tickles his scrotum, definitely just like old times he thinks to himself as he explodes his wad inside her mouth.

Chapter Three… The first interview

       A half hour drive or so, the extra curricular activity concluded, not a drop on his trousers, they arrive at the address of the first victim close to their appointed time.  A better then average neighborhood, a discreet condo, decorative wrought iron bars encasing the first floor windows, a matching gate at the entrance, the security camera points down toward the entry.  Ringing the bell, Detective Johnson holding her I.D. toward the camera’s lens, a woman’s voice directs them to open the gate as the buzzer sounds.

       Greeted by the thirty-something woman, he realizes she’s still more then attractive. Conservatively dressed, her sight brings back the memories of her being duct taped across the bed that day.

       “I’m Lt. Lewis, this is Sgt. Johns…….”

       “Lewis… Lewis, you… You couldn’t be the… The one who found me that morning.  Are… Are you?”

       Seeing her eyes glancing him over, slowly nodding back, just a nod in response as he watches her hands fold together, her fingers interlock in front of her, he waits in silence as she breaks a hint of a forced smile.

       “You shouldn’t be too embarrassed, I’m not anymore,” she quietly speaks.  “You put your jacket over me, you untied… You whispered I was safe from what I could hear… You held me… Remember?”

       “Ye… Yes ma’am… That was a long time ago.”

       “I’ve never really thanked you… Lew… Lieutenant… Is it now, Lieutenant Lewis?”

       “Yes ma’am… And… And this is Sergeant Johnson,” he answers, nodding toward his partner standing beside him.  “She’s investigating these cases with me now.”

       “Sergeant Johnson, huh?”  She asks, glancing toward her, inquisitive in her tone, her expression not as polite.  “Have we ever met Sergeant?”

       “Wouldn’t think so… Never got a ticket from a woman cop before have you?”  A half hearted joke, an awkward glance toward the woman’s stern stare, back toward Lt. Lewis, finally giving an uncomfortable half smile, she watches the woman turn toward him.

       “How can I help you now, Lieutenant?”

       “Some cases have been assigned to me,” he answers, “We’ve reopened several, dating back to your… Your experience.”

       “I’ve heard rumors there’d been others,” she nods, still standing, fingers still tightly interlocking, her voice a little sharper.  “Sorry… Sorry but there’s nothing I can add…. Except I’ve relived that night a thousand times over and over in my nightmares.”

       “Sorry,” his tone quiet, the situation uncomfortable, he glances toward Johns, back toward the woman.  “I… I thought if there was anything at all you may have remembered, even thought of… I could let you speak with the Sergeant here in private… You know, without me… Me or another man around.”

       “Oh,” she smiles, “I understand, and thank you Lieutenant. It’s a shame you weren’t the investigator back then, isn’t it?... It was all quite embarrassing… Very humiliating even with the detective, as I recall.”

       “Well… We just wanted to touch base with each victim… Just in case, you never know,” he speaks, almost awkwardly, “Just one break and we might catch the man responsi…..”

       “Or woman… Lieutenant!”  She breaks in, glancing back and forth.  “Yes, or a woman, I said… You never know, now do you?”

       “Why would you say that?”  He nods, glancing inquisitively back toward Johnson, again back toward the woman, obviously taken aback by the comment.

       “Oh, no firm reason like you would want, just intuition maybe, nothing else I suppose,” she adds as she glances toward Sgt. Johnson, their eyes locking.  “Women can be quite capable of doing things you wouldn’t expect, isn’t that right Sergeant?… It is Sergeant Johnson, right?... But until you’re in my shoes, you have no idea how that felt, how I could have been expected to concentrate on anything but surviving… Take my place just one time why don’t you?”  Still glaring toward Sgt. Johnson, she continues, “Yes, that’s right, if you’re really so concerned, want to know why I can’t be any more helpful with the details, why don’t you let yourself be stripped naked and tortured like I was… Raped and beaten repeatedly… Then you’d really know how I felt… Maybe know how to help me remember something that you’re looking for to solve these cases, that’s if you really care like he does!”

       “Well,” Lt. Lewis breaks in as he reaches for the door handle, slowly pulling the door open.  “Just thought we’d let you know we’re again working to find the perpetrator.  We’ll keep you informed of any new developments.”

       “Thank you Lt. Lewis,” she smiles with a different tone, ignoring Johns.  “Thank you for everything, I mean it… If you do find out anything after all this time, let me know if I can help you!”  A smile, actually still quite beautiful, yet the unmistakable haunted looks’ still in her eyes.

       Leaving the condo, the door shutting, the sounds of a couple deadbolts obviously locking behind it, a glance toward one another, he slides behind the wheel, slowly shaking his head as they shut the car doors simultaneously.  “What the fuck’s with that between the two of you?”

       “Guess she doesn’t like women cops or something… Don’t know what her problem was.”

       “Sounded like she was chastising you,” he offers, “almost daring you to go through what she went through… Christ sake!”

       “Yea… Yea, but know what?... That might not be such a bad idea… Maybe she’s got a point.”

       “What?”  Glancing over toward Johns, again taken aback by the unexpected comment, he shakes his head back and forth.  “What ye’ mean, she’s right?... You don’t know how she feels?”

       “Think about it, more then that, didn’t you hear me?”  She answers, a hint of almost excitement in her voice, “now hear me out, don’t make any rash decisions until you hear me out, okay?”

       An interested nod, waiting for a response, he pulls into the traffic.  “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Okay… Maybe… Just maybe if I actually did experience what she went through… You know, maybe be tied up, the same things done to me… Yea, have the things done to me like she had,”  Her voice almost forceful, each word clear, crisp, she continues, “if we actually acted out one of the abductions, hers even, maybe I could find something useful, something that could help us.”

“What the Hell you talking about?... Tied up, raped by some guy?... What the fu……..”

“See… I told you to hear me out damn-it,” she scolds, turning toward him, animated. “Listen, if you, you did the things he did, you know, the same things to me he did to her…………”

“Jessica!”  Glancing toward her, the thought crazy, insane, yet just the thought of her suggesting something so outrageous stirring feelings deep inside his groins at the same time, the thought of seeing her like he found the first victim, to actually do the things to her naked body like the actual case, the thoughts’ surreal as he shakes his head, laughs.  “You’re fucking with me you asshole, seeing how far you can string me along… Okay that’s funny, now knock the shit off!”

”Bullshit!”  Twisting on the seat, reaching out, her hand patting across his thigh, her voice almost racing, she continues, “Listen, They weren’t that seriously hurt, you wouldn’t really hurt me any more then they were… I can take as much abuse as they did… Except one thing though, instead of superglue, that’s fucking out, just put one of those bondage hoods across my head, my face, close the flaps; it’d be the same thing!”

Almost running through, barely stopping for a red-light, seeing the look in her eyes, the excitement, almost eagerness, he again shakes his head as he notices the silhouettes of her nipples hardening through her blouse even as he mutters, “you can’t be fucking serious, can you?”

“Really, let’s do it!”  She nods, squeezes his thigh for emphasis.  “Let’s spend an entire night, Hell, tonight even… It’s Friday, I’m off the weekend… Tonight would be perfect, just you and me!... Let’s reenact the first crime, hers.   We’ll do the same things… The crime scene… We’ll follow it like a script… Exactly the same, you can even fuck me just like she was, and we’ll see where it leads too; see if she’s right, okay?”

More then just the stirring in his stomach, feeling his cock stiffening, the added sensations of her fingertips brushing across its swelling crown through his trousers, he almost struggles for words, still the hint of a doubt, the chance she’s pulling his leg.

“Lew… I’m serious… Treat me just like her, I mean it, the whole nine yards!... Fuck; you can really get into it…. And with a little added bonus for you if you agree!... Remember, they had anal penetration too!... I’ll let you do it all!... And I mean all… I’ll really concentrate on being the victim… Trust me on this.”  Glancing down toward the files, shuffling across a couple of the yellowing envelopes with her free hand, her voice lowers as she volunteers, “Listen, I know where to get the stuff we’ll need, okay?... Agree?”

Hearing her almost begging, he feels his manhood swelling between her circling fingers stroking through the pant leg. “I’ll pay for the stuff, buy it myself, today,” she adds, “Let’s go to the shop; it’s only fifteen, twenty minutes from here!... Turn around!”

“You want to buy the stuff like left at the crime scenes?”  He asks, feeling her fingers stroking back and forth between his spreading thighs.  “You really know a place to get that kind of stuff?” 

“Sure!... Just like in these photos,” She smiles while staring into his unbelieving eyes as she holds up a manila envelope of stills.  “Come on, make a u-turn right here, I’ll show you.”

Chapter Four… The sex shop

       Slowing, stopping in front of the typical, gaudy adult store, parking in the ‘no parking zone’ Detective Johnson sorts through the photos of the sex devices.  “Okay, this the place Lew, don’t be embarrassed, check it out with me,” she nods as she steps from the car, flips the visor down with the police I.D. in view.  “Come on, I know we’ll be able to fill the list in here, believe me!”

Following behind her, the bell jingling as the door swings open, the business hours sign swings back and forth flicking off the smoke stained glass.  The isles narrow, the shelves stuffed with magazines, adult paraphernalia, he continues to follow as they make their way directly toward the rear of the store, to the glass enclosed showcases along a curtained wall.  A couple customers milling about toward the front with the lone store employee, the rows of clamps, Wartenberg pinwheels, leather crops fill the display stands resting atop the cases.

       “This is where we’ll find everything we’ll need,” Johnson nods as she begins rummaging through the paraphernalia.  Sorting across, picking up a singular clover clamp, squeezing its curved handles, watching the chrome tongs spread apart a couple times, she glances around the empty isles.  “Whatcha’ think Lew?... Think it’ll do the job?”  Cupping the bottom of her breast with one hand as she glances down, slipping the spreading tips across the outline of her nipple pushing outward on her blouse, she lets the tongs squeeze shut. “Oomph!... Damn that’s tight,” she groans as she lets her hands slip down toward her waist.  Thrusting her chest outward, kinda’ shaking her shoulders back and forth, the clamp glistens, jiggles off her swaying breast.  “Oh yea!… I think it’ll sure do the job on my titties when they’re bare, don’t you?

Just watching her doing her unexpected thing, the sight’s incredibly erotic to him, even the whining sound of her voice, almost a girlish tone as her eyes remain fixed down at her clamped nipple while she turns toward him, thrusting her breast out as she mutters, “go ahead, feel how tight it is.” 

Watching her nibbling across her lower lip, the top couple buttons of her blouse open, the low cut lace bra hoisting her breasts upwards even visible as he reaches out, fingers the clamp, gives it a slight tug.  Feeling the resistance of her breast stretching outward in the tong’s grip, giving a gentle twist, he smiles at the sight of her tiptoeing, thrusting her breast even further outward, her other nipple noticeably hardening beneath her stretching blouse.  “Like the feel Jessica?... Now want to feel it on your other nipple?”  He finds himself asking as he can’t resist the temptation, twists the clamp a second time before unclamping, slipping it away from the impression left on her blouse.

“Umph!... Damn that sends chills down my spine,” she answers, reaching up, rubbing her tingling nipple with one hand while pressing her other hand against his.  Lowering the clamp down between her thighs, she glances around again, whispers, “Let’s try it down here instead.”

Gripping the clamp, spreading its tongs, she presses it up against the camel toe of her tight slacks.  Letting it spring shut, the tongs burrowing between her thighs, she reflexively tiptoes again as she just as quickly drops her other hand between her legs.  “Damn… Damn that hurts already!... I can just imagine what it’s going to feel like when you’ve got me spread out across the bed and clamping my bare clit,” she nods as she just as quickly squeezes, releases the tongs.  Holding it up between them, watching it glisten as she slowly twirls it between her fingers; she glances over toward a trio of clamps on the ends of leather straps lying on the counter, even more painful looking with their serrated tongs.

“Here’s three of ‘em, all connected, and serrated,” she nods as she reaches across the counter, picks up the set.  “These are more like it… They’d really do the trick against my bare skin, wouldn’t they?... Here, take one, whatcha’ think?... They really look painful!”

Watching him squeezing one of the clamps, the rows of sharp, shiny metal grooves pressing together as he lessens the tension, she carefully drops the singular clamp back down on the display counter as it clanks against the glass.  Slowly cupping her breasts, silently shaking her head back and forth, tweaking both nipples between her fingertips, she reflexively presses her thighs together as she begins to softly moan, her eyes fixed on the glistening clover clamp opening, shutting, opening again and again in his hand.

“Don’t think you could handle ‘em Jessica?”  He asks, watching her eyes becoming an almost distant, glazed look as her lips barely part. “Well, could you?... They look exactly like the ones used on our last victim, you know.”

“Yea… They… They look a lot harsher in your hand, don’t they?”  She nods, still cupping but now gently squeezing both breasts.  “I can just imagine how they’d feel.”

“Well, up to you, want ‘em?... Or want to forget about it?”

“Ye… No… I… I mean yeh, yeh I guess so, if they’re the same… Yeh, get ‘em,” she mutters her almost confusing answer as she seems fixated on the other two prongs swaying back and forth off the ends of the dangling straps.

Feeling his adrenaline flowing, the anticipation of seeing her actually reenacting the abuse of the victims, even the look in her eyes right now, her transforming disposition, he wraps the trio of straps into a tight bundle, the three glistening prongs bouncing, resting together.  Glancing at the counter’s displays, toward an altered Wartenberg wheel, picking it up, showing it to her, she again just silently nods her approval, again gently tweaking her nipples as the rows of tips on the revolving wheel sparkle.

“That too, yea, that too,” she finally mutters, her eyes following the slowing spin of the pointed tips of the numerous razor sharp prongs as he gives the handle another flick with his wrist.  “That’ll be just close enough to replace the one in the photo… That’ll work.”

Watching her reactions to the mounting paraphernalia, her almost stoic expression, picking out a riding crop, a flat strap, he nods toward a shelf down the isle toward the front.  “Now, you sure you want the Dildos too?”  He asks, holding the accumulating items in his hands, again glancing toward her.

“Yea… Yea, just like the ones in the stills,” she nods as she steps past, makes her way to the shelf.  “I want them just like them if possible.”

Following, watching her stop in front of the display of scores of various designs of Dildos from smooth and oval to exact replicas down to the swollen veins and bulging crowns, he steps back, allows her to pick the pair of dildos she wants, even with the one seeming impossibly big, almost a caricature of a man’s jet black penis.

“Let’s get ‘em… Get outta’ here,” she nods, a carton in each hand, her expression almost instantly changing, almost surreal, like she’s picking up items at a drug store, her voice no longer soft, now almost assertive.  “We’ve got a long night ahead of us now, don’t we?”

“What about the hood, the bondage hood!” He remembers as he glances toward her.

“Got one at home, fits perfect!... Already own one!”

Following her to the counter, the emotions mixed, yet his cock stiffening, his stomach almost churning, he can’t believe what’s in store for later.  The thought of her naked, strapped across her bed spread-eagled and him doing the things to her that’s been done to the victims seems unbelievable, yet on the other hand, certainly intoxicating.

The clerk at the register, the counter an aged, stained surface stuffed with typical sex shop crap, he nods toward her items, rings them up one at a time.  Glancing almost lewdly toward Johnson, back toward the items with each ring of the old style register, slipping them into a large, plain paper bag, he glances toward Johnson opening her wallet.

“Who’s paying for these, mister… Miss?”  He asks, glancing from one to the other as the final price rings up while he places the last dildo in the stuffed bag.

“I am… They’re for me.”  She answers, staring him straight in the eyes.  “They’re going to be used on me tonight… Everything, while I’m tied to a bed… Naked.”

The items expensive, his double-take priceless as he waits for her to count out her money from her billfold, she shakes her head with just a few bills in her hand, mumbles, “Shit… I must have left the rest of my money on the dresser this morning.”  Glancing toward the Lieutenant, she shrugs, “Got a credit card or something, I’ll pay you back tonight, promise.”

Flipping out his wallet, the good ol’ police credit union debit card, he can’t help smirking, “You better or I’ll be getting my money’s worth tonight.”

The door creaking open, the bell jingling as they leave, dropping the bag on the middle of the seat, the drive to her house begins as she lets a hand reach across the bag, rest on his thigh while she slips open a manila envelope, glance sat the graphic crime scene with her other.  “I think this should be worthwhile,” she suggests matter of factly.  “Yea, it’ll work out just perfect, from start to finish.”

Chapter Five… Reenacting the original crime

       Getting ready to restrain her to the four corners of the bed, seeing her fluttering eyes glancing into his, her lips pressing tightly together while he zips the flaps of the bondage hood shut across her face, he can’t believe he’s actually in the midst preparing her to be abused like the others.  Proportionately endowed, even on the athletic side, her fingers clenching, toes curling, her tanned, naked body spreads out in front of him flat on the bed as he begins the process of stretching the duct tape across her wrists and ankles one at a time.  Finishing just as the tape runs out, glancing over her spread-eagled naked body, he’s still bemused that she’s actually following through with her idea, having him do this to her, then to continue on, to treat her as harshly as the original victim of their cases, in just about every way.

       Sitting on the side of the bed, letting his fingertips glide across her naked flesh, his hands almost quivering while cupping her firm, not overly large perky breasts, he watches the nubs of her nipples standing out above her shriveling areolas.  Imagining the other girls, their terror, all stretched out naked just like her, he can feel the rush, sense the power as her stomach hollows, ripples beneath his roving fingertips.  The memories of finding the first victim, the two naked bodies not so dissimilar, he finds it hard, yet invigorating to begin doing the same things that the perpetrator did.   

Holding the leather connected clamps in his hand, reaching across her bare chest, cupping a mound, following the details from the case jacket she picked out; he takes a deep breath himself, jams one of the shimmering silver clover clamps deep across her already puckering nipple.  Holding it open as he senses her body twitching as the cool metal rests against he swelling areola, taking another even deeper breath, he lets the serrated prongs snap shut.

       “Oomph!... Ooommpphh!... Oooooommmmpppphhh!”

       The grunts resonating from the closed bondage mask burrowing back into the flattened pillow, his heartbeat escalating with anticipation, he grips her other breast, slips the spreading tongs of the second clamp across its bulging nipple.  Her naked body again twitching as her back bows, the first clamp jiggling from her swaying breast, he releases the matching chrome clamp deep on that nub of bare flesh.

       “Aaaaaaggggghhhhhh!!!”

His chest pounding at the sight of her stretched out, contorting in front of him, stepping back a step, he watches her naked body bowing, arching, her breasts separating as the leather strap stretches between the gleaming clamps twisting, jiggling.  Her tendons, muscles taut beneath her glistening skin, her thighs rippling as she arches, he watches her reflexively trying to ward off the compressing serrated clamps digging harshly into her areolas and nipples.  Waiting for her gyrations to slacken, knowing it won’t be long at this rate before he cums in his pants, positioning himself between her stretched legs, his throbbing cock standing practically upright as he drops his trousers across his knees, he slowly shoves the engorged crown between her trembling thighs, his latex gloved hands lifting her hips upward as he penetrates her spreading orifice no more then an inch at a time.

Watching her black latex hooded head twisting back and forth, the clamps jiggling on her tugged breasts, sliding his cock about halfway in, flexing his hips back and forth and picking up the pace, his stroking shaft plunges inside her vagina, deeper, harsher, his thick shaft stretching her vaginal walls, plying ever inward with each mounting thrust until his scrotum slaps between her but cheeks.

Flailing breaths through the mask’s flexing nostril eyelets, the black hood twisting back and forth across the pillow, her grunts muffled; he watches the third clamp bouncing across her hollowing stomach, its leather strap looped across her flexing navel as he thrusts completely inward one last time, holds his hips firm between her arching thighs.  Feeling his swollen shaft pulsing, her vaginal walls clinging, gripping as he squirts his load, he remains almost motionless for a few more moments, watches her stomach rising, lowering, her breasts twitching beneath the mounted clamps still jiggling upright.  Feeling her heartbeat’s pulse from between her thighs across his throbbing shaft, finally stepping back a step, letting his cock slide outward, flip free from the still spreading folds of her wet labium as his cum flicks, strings out across her inner thigh, he feels the rush, the stirring in his own stomach from just looking at her, her naked body spread helplessly in front of him, to continue to do with her as he pleases.

Leaving her alone in her spread-eagled position for a couple long minutes, her naked body twitching, bowing for some sort of relief as her fingers alternating flinch, clench above her duct tapped wrists, he again approaches the foot of the bed, one latex gloved hand spreading her moist labium, the other gripping, positioning the third clover clamp firmly across her exposed clitoris. Stretching the leather strap connected to the other pair of clamps, forcing the serrated prongs deep between the puffy folds, aligning the spread clamp upright, briskly releasing it, he lets his other hand also jerk away as he steps back.

Her animated gyrations instantaneous, her hips flexing, torso arching, lifting, bowing across the mattress, the trio of connected clamps jiggle, sparkle from her compressed flesh.  Again stepping away from her for a few minutes while allowing her to experience the pain, finally approaching the bed once again after her exhausted body finally flattens across the mattress, the brown leather barber’s strap flexes back and forth in his gloved hand.  Flicking, snapping its wide surface across her bare flesh, he begins her next segment.   Slashing above, across and below her flattening breasts, each echoing slashing of the limber flat leather causes her body to again arch, to twist in her bindings as the muffled grunts break the otherwise silence of the room.

Slowly circling the bed, systematically snapping the strap back and forth from between her shoulders down to her thighs, between her spread thighs, the flogging begins to leave reddened imprints in mounting layers as the trio of clamps jiggle, bounce in their taut straps.  Her naked body perspiring, her imprint soaks the sheets as the leather strap systematically strikes flesh in clusters of backhanded, forehanded flicks, until again, he steps back, leaves her twisting in the gripping duct tape. 

More whippings, more penetrations of her stretched vagina, longer intervals of being left alone, the soiled sheets with patches of yellow between her quivering thighs spreading beneath her, her naked body seems to tremble, to randomly shake at times, the clamps on her engorged nipples and clit causing their connected leather straps to stretch out, flatten across her glistening body.

The initial hours passing till well before dawn, leaning on the bed, carefully unzipping the back of the bondage hood, the stretching latex sliding up across her ashen face, he glances at her glazed eyes staring trancelike toward the slowly circling ceiling fan above her.  Lips quivering, slowly parting, imprints of the mask lining her reddened, damp face, she noticeably grunts, twists her head back deeper into the pillow before struggling to raise her head back up, glance down through her swollen eyes toward the sadistically jiggling clamps still glistening off her engorged nipples.

Repeatedly inhaling, exhaling, her drenched stomach flattening, hollowing as her arms, legs stretch to the four corners of the bed, her matted hair remains stuffed in the wrinkled latex hood still stretched just above her hairline, her ears as she’s given the brief semblance of a break from the ongoing abuse.  Her hazed eyes connecting with his, her look of utter exhaustion, intolerable pain intermingling, she’s finally able to mouth the raspy words, “Enough… Enough!... We’re done!... No more!... Really… Really… We’re done!... Done now!”

Patting her forehead, glancing into her pleading, swollen eyes now darting back toward his, realizing she’s only made it halfway though the night so far, he contemplates what’s next.  Remembering her last words before she undressed to lay across the bed naked, her stern instructions for him to complete the entire evening with her, adamant she be treated just like the other victims regardless of what she might want or say later, he slowly slips the hood back across her face, her widening eyes.  Stretching the latex tight, he slowly zips it shut blocking her muffled grunts.  The flexing of the nostril eyelets in a steady rhythm of her rasping breathing, her fingers again clenching, unclenching, her hips trembling, his gloves slide up across her thrust out mounds, grips the twin clamp’s curved handles.

Squeezing both simultaneously, he watches her entire body bucking upwards, bouncing back across the messed bed as the serrated clamps spread apart, snap away from her stretching flesh.  Muffled screams resonating from the hood, she arches again, bows upwards over and over on the rattling bed.  Sliding a hand down between her jerking thighs, firmly squeezing the third clamp, he releases its tongs from her swollen clit, that bruised, tender flesh practically adhering to the serrated grooves before snapping free.   More muffled screams, jerking, twisting and bucking, the duct-tape tearing at her chaffing wrists and ankles, her contorted body shakes the bed frame.

Giving her a few moments to recoup from the clamps’ induced pain, grasping her left breast at its base, firmly squeezing his grip as he holds the Wartenberg-wheel in his other hand, he rests the razor sharp tips of its prongs just above the bruised nub of her swollen nipple.  Squeezing her tit flesh, letting the wheel make contact, the needles sink inward as he rolls a trail of microscopic pinpricks across her bulging mound.

“Aaaaaagggghhhhh!”

Hearing her muffled scream, watching her body bowing into an arch, her buttocks lifting off the sheets, the remainder of the night’s still in front of them, including the penetration of her rectum before he’s done. 

End Part One… To be continued