Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: jaberwok on 28-12-2009, 07:56:34</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>jaberwok</strong> on <strong>28-12-2009, 07:56:34</strong>
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				<em>The door is in the center of a strip mall, sandwiched between a clothing store and a music store, right where the card said it would be. It's the right place; "Oddities Inc, Dan Green, Sole Proprietor" is etched into the glass. Interestingly, there are no hours posted, and the door is shaded, concealing what lies inside. The two stores press in tight; this place must be in the back, because there's barely room for the door itself, much less a shop. Opening the door reveals a long hallway; at the end is another shaded door, and through it is the main shop. The place smells musty, like an old attic, and is stuffed with treasures that must have been pulled from one. Wooden statues of fertility goddesses stand next to kids magic tricks sealed in plastic bags; a glass display full of bongs sits next to another full of all manner of chemical tools and compounds. A bunch of cheap faux gemstones stand atop ceramic pyramids in a third case; for some reason, those seem quite familiar. Classical music pours from well hidden speakers mounted to the corners of the room; the only light is a single naked bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. A black curtain is draped across a doorway leading deeper into the store. An older man with grey hair, but otherwise physically fit, stands at the chime of the bell at the door. "I'm Dan Green," he says with a knowing smile. "What do you need?"</em><br><hr>Another day, another dollar. Another speeding ticket. Another D&amp;D. Another 10-15 at that rundown apartment complex. It’s been a long day already, but my shift’s not over yet. Two hours to go. The strip mall is pretty quiet tonight, which isn't too surprising considering it's a school night. Come Saturday and this place would be crawling with teenagers from the local high school. A couple of skateboarders jumping the stairs catch sight of me and slink off, their heads dropped low. I give them the eye but let them pass. I've got another destination in mind before my shift ends for the afternoon. Which reminds me. I finger the card in my pocket and pull it free, checking the name on it one more time. <br><br>There it is. <em>Oddities Inc.</em> The card was dropped on my desk. I'm not sure by whom, but something about it gave me a bad feeling. My mother used to say that a woman lives or dies by her intuition. <br><br>It's weird, though. Even though I’ve been to this mall plenty of times, I don’t remember ever seeing this store. <br><br>Place looks like some New Age joint, full of assorted kitsch and crystals and other junk items. I take an automatic sniff, checking for whiffs of weed or booze. I wouldn't be surprised to find both here. <br><br>Ah, and here’s the small business owner himself. Time to put on my game face. <br><br>The woman stood at the entrance to the shop, her eyes canvassing the room. Her black police uniform was crisp and neat, tucked around her full figure. Beneath the brim of her hat were striking dark eyes, cool features, and full lips. Brown hair was wrapped in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. The badge set just above her generous left breast gleamed. Police Officer, 2422, Montenegro. Protect, Serve, Justice, Fidelity. <br><br>“Mr. Green?” she asked, her voice clear and full of quiet authority. “Officer Montenegro.” She waited a tick, to allow the usual nervousness and worry to build in him before explaining herself. “Just canvasing the area, sir. There have been reports of vandalism to the other stores on this strip. Might want to double check your alarm system, make sure everything is up to date.” As she spoke, her eyes never left the man’s face as she watched his features carefully for any reactions, any signs he might give away. "Have you had any problems recently? Threats, people loitering outside, maybe?" In the back of her mind, she was already looking for ways to casually search the place for a hidden stash of drugs, kiddie porn, or any other signs that this guy was dirty dealing. Although in a place like this, how could he not be? <br><br>My mother used to say that a woman lives or dies by her intuition. I think that goes double for cops. <br><hr>Officer Montenegro… I’d seen her walking the strip mall before, but the fact that she’d seen the entrance to the shop indicated she’d found one of the cards and passed the qualifications. I used the word “found”, because I would have remembered if I’d handed one over to this doll. Hell, I’d have been salivating until she showed up, and probably drowned in my own spit. Luscious curves combined with a tough gal exterior; it was a lethal combination poured into a blue uniform, tight in all the right places.<br><br>She introduced herself, and rattled off some crap about vandals and threatening figures. I didn’t really listen much, but I couldn’t help but let some of the unfettered joy I felt drip through, my face relaxing into a wide smirk as I thought of how to best access the vast depth of teeming resources standing right in front of me. Her tough demeanor spoke volumes about the potential for me to fill a long standing order for straight up, flavored with a heavy dose of humiliation.<br><br>“Officer Montenegro,” I said, spreading my arms wide in as welcoming a gesture as I could make it. “Welcome to my humble establishment.” I knew she wouldn’t buy it; hell, I was hoping it’d ratchet up the suspicion that was already pouring off of her. “Thank you for coming by to share your concerns,” I continued, frowning slightly to feign as if I shared them as well, but still allowing the traces of that smirk she found so annoying to dance around the edges. “I have seen a group of young men that tend to linger in the area; do you know of them? They don’t bother me, but I could see how others might find them intimidating.” Of course, I knew the guys well; they often served as my ears and eyes, especially when I needed a face that wasn’t associated with the shop. However, the beginnings of an idea were forming; if she knew them, it would make this job that much easier, so I continued to eavesdrop on her thoughts and feelings.<br><br>I stretched, yawned, and gestured towards the curtain. “Would you like some tea?” I asked as I slowly weaved threads of curiosity through her surface thoughts, strengthening them as she glanced at the curtain. “Come, come,” I said ironically, although I was quite sure she didn’t get the implicit joke (at least, not yet). I paused at the curtain, sensing a touch of hesitation, and glanced back. “I don’t bite,” I said, and grinned wolfishly. “Not unless you ask nicely.” I let the curtain close behind me, making sure to reveal nothing of the area in which I’d disappeared, leaving her alone in the front of the shop. This was the moment of truth. She really only had two choices, as there was obviously nothing of interest in the front room: either leave (which would be quite regrettable, from my point of view), or follow me deeper in.<br><br>I stepped into the main work room, and manipulated the space behind me to insert a crooked hallway to slow her down and confuse her sense of direction. She’d find the place full of doors, but once she passed the first corner she wouldn’t be able to find the entrance again to get out. All of the doors were locked – they didn’t lead anywhere she’d really enjoy going anyway. The second to last door lead here, to the work room, a huge warehouse of a chamber with a twenty foot tall ceiling, stacked high with boxes and crates. There were only a few objects of note in the room. In one corner was a massive four post bed, built special order to my specifications. Each post was affixed near the bed’s surface with a series of long silk cables; on the top of each a camera, ready to record any action taking place on top of the satin sheets. In the far corner were a series of sturdy wooden frames fitted with leather straps and buckles, obviously upon which someone could be fastened in any variety of compromising positions. There too, cameras were mounted in strategic places, allowing whatever transpired on them also to be filmed. Finally, in the middle of room was the seven foot tall black obelisk, etched in fine lines only visible when you were close enough to touch it. Like the cheap copies on display in the front, this one sported a crystal stone at the apex; unlike those, however, this stone was obviously valuable – perfectly clear, perfectly cut, and almost the size of a grapefruit. On the front, at about chest height, were palm sized indentations where the storage stones fit. I’d never needed all ten indentations at one time; in fact, the most I’d ever gotten at once was three, and the third stone wasn’t even entirely filled. But hope springs eternal, as they say, and I’d carefully filled each one with a smooth frosty white storage crystal, just in case.<br><br>Directly in front of the collector was a card table, holding a pot of hot tea, two cups, and a small bottle of rum. Today I’d made cinnamon apple spice; most “clients” seemed to find that flavor relaxing for some reason. Or maybe it was the rum they found relaxing; I don’t know, and quite honestly, I don’t really care. There were also two folding chairs, although, from experience I knew that one of them would almost certainly end up being superfluous. The cameras recording the center of the room were tucked away, hidden from the door, but obvious once you reached the table itself, and I was counting on her noticing them, as that was going to be my cue to get the party started.<br><br>I poured myself a cup of tea, sat down, and waited patiently.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Butterflykiss</strong> on <strong>28-12-2009, 20:27:54</strong>
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				Captain Montenegro’s Rule #4: Be vigilant. My father would say that he didn’t make it all the way to the captain’s seat by being slack on the job. When opportunities present themselves, you take them. When they don't, you make your own. Luckily for me, this guy handed me an opportunity on a silver platter. <br><br>“Local kids,” I said in response to his question about the guys outside. “I’ve seen them around. We busted a couple of them for possession a few months back. The usual: marijuana, alcohol, minor vandalism.” My mind played over the kids' faces as I spoke, recalling their mug shots and rap sheets. I could clearly visualize their files in my mind, the bold black type and neatly filled boxes. “<em>Caylin, sweetie, you gotta mind like a steel trap</em>,” my mom used to say, shaking her head. “Mostly harmless, but if you have any problems, give us a call and we’ll be sure to respond.” I kept my voice casual but reassuring, just an officer doing her job. One arm stayed relaxed at my side, the other hand hooked my thumb into my belt. An easy going stance that also kept my hand near my weapon. Just in case. <br><br>He invited me back and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes at his harmless gentleman routine. A place like that along with his mannerisms practically screamed sleaze. I made a mental note to check the guy out to see if he had a record. Chances were he did. When he urged me to follow, I paused to consider my options. The safest thing would have been to head back to the station and file a report to follow up after I’d dug up any dirt on him that might be floating around the system, and maybe bring a second officer next time But opportunities rarely present themselves a second time. I parted the curtain and followed after him. <br><br>If the front of the shop didn’t set off warning bells, the back sure as hell did. I paused in the hallway to get my bearings. My fingers toyed with the edge of my flashlight. The hairs on the nape of my neck tingled, but I moved forward, bypassing the other doors until I found him. <br><br>The room had a real house of horrors feel to it. I let my eyes slide over the “equipment,” took in the details, checked for signs of blood. “Interesting set up you have here,” I commented lightly as I strode forward with even, strong steps. I noticed the cameras and my eyebrow lifted speculatively. “And it seems that in addition to being a small business owner, you’re also an amateur filmmaker.” <br><br>He looked cozy as you please, and his little tea party set up looked so strange with the backdrop of the equipment in the rest of the room and the odd altar with its stones. I was getting the impression that Mr. Green was in the business of occult worship, and maybe even had some cult activity going on in his back room here. Fine with me, you do what floats your boat. But the real question was were his participants willing? With that gentleman’s attitude and easy smile, it’d be all too easy to lure high school or college girls into his lair for some fun. <br><br>I looked at the seat and placed my hand on the back of it, although I didn't move to sit in it. Instead I lean against it to keep my body looking relaxed. I wanted to keep him relaxed, too. A relaxed suspect can let a good bit of interesting information slip. I glanced at the tea on the table. Smelled good, which was odd. I’ve never been one for tea. Give me a cup of black coffee over the fussy stuff any day. “Thanks for the offer. But I’m on duty.” I turned my head to look at the bed and then turned back to him, meeting his gaze and holding it. "Nice decor. Get many visitors back here?" <br><br>Step into my parlor, Miss Muffet. It’s a good thing I wasn't like most girls. I wasn't afraid of spiders.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>jaberwok</strong> on <strong>29-12-2009, 03:14:40</strong>
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				I watched her carefully as her eyes roamed around the room, pausing slightly on each piece of furniture in turn, and chuckled slightly as I watched the door squeeze in on itself silently, fade down to a line, before vanishing completely, disconnecting the Escher-esque folds of the pocket dimension completely from the rest of reality. <br><br>“Who said my business was small?” As she stood by the chair, I lifted my cup slowly to my lips, my eyes locked with hers. It was always easiest starting like that; most people don't realize that old saying about 'eyes being windows to the soul' is more than a metaphor. Like all windows, passage can go both ways. I slipped in, then, and began the subtle work of lacing motion control magick into her body, starting with her hands and feet, and working my way inward.&nbsp; &nbsp;It was slow, delicate work to do it in such a way that she wouldn't notice the effect until I pulled the threads tight and forced her body to betray her.<br><br>“You don't know what you're missing,” I said, face suddenly serious, inhaling deep breath over the rim of the cup, allowing the heavenly scent of sweet apple and fragrant cinnamon to pour through my nostrils. “You should reconsider, but I already know you won't.” I took a sip of the tea, and closed my eyes, savoring the subtle nuances of fruit. Oh, another reason to love Earth. It didn't matter that I wasn't locking her gaze anymore; the fabric of control was woven, the web was complete, and I was ready.<br><br>I set the smooth china cup down, a slight clink the only noise as it settled into the empty saucer, and stood smoothly but slowly, making sure to telegraph my intentions, keeping everything casual and safe.<br><br>“Well,” I said, “I am glad you like my decorations. I find the variety useful in my line of work. Speaking of which, you read my card.” I said it casually, but firmly, a statement instead of a question. “It's a sad truth that officers of the peace are rarely paid a living wage.” I frowned in commiseration, although I know my eyes were still twinkling brightly. I love this part of the game, the moment just before the realization strikes that maybe, just maybe, she's in over her head. This one in particular was strong willed; I didn't expect her to panic (not yet, at least), which would make things considerably more pleasant. Of course, it wasn't my favorite part; that would come later, when she would surrender herself over to a sea of overwhelming pleasure despite her best efforts. In fact, as the thought crossed my mind, I reached out with telekinetic fingers, running them lightly over the skin of her stomach and inner thighs, a ghostly touch of silk and velvet dancing at the limits of sensation.<br><br>“I, too, am a peace keeper, after a fashion, and like you, I am <em>very</em> proud of my work.” I drifted over, purposefully, filled the other cup of tea as I stopped talking, letting the echo of my voice in the cavernous room die out, leaving only the absolute silence of the place. We both soaked in it, like tiny teabags in a pot of vacuum, an almost deafening absence of sound. <br><br>“However,” I added quietly, although it sounded loud even to my ears, “one must pay the bills.” I set the teapot down, and turned away from her, looking over the racks and frames in the far corner. “I assume that is why you're here, Caylin. To pay the bills.” I glanced back at her and smiled warmly, even as I began gently pulling the threads of control, slowly removing her ability to run, or even walk away.<br><br>“Pillory, come here,” I called, my voice echoing from the walls of the cavernous chamber. For a moment there was no reaction, just silence, and I wondered for a moment if I'd left it dormant and alone for too long – toys can get quite cross when not used, you know. Well, <em>my</em> toys do. Anyway, after another moment of that infinite stillness, I could hear the scrape of the wood across the smooth concrete, and before long it appeared, pushing its way from the back of the forest of racks, eventually sliding up to stand next to me.<br><br><br>I ran my hand over sturdy structure, a five foot tall vertical slab of solid oak, cut horizontally into two pieces near the top. Across the cut were three holes – one big one in the center, and two smaller ones to either side – and each was worn smooth and shiny by both careful polish as well as vigorous use. I unhooked the shiny new padlock from one side, and pulled the jaws of the contraption open, the hinge making barely a squeak as the top piece swung up.<br><br>“You don't mind if I call you Caylin, right? Of course you don't.” I smiled, a small tight-lipped affair that I'm sure communicated my intentions all to clearly.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Butterflykiss</strong> on <strong>03-01-2010, 19:04:36</strong>
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				Remember what I said about intuition?<br><br>I narrowed my eyes at him, my hand never straying far from my belt and the tools and the firearm I had holstered there. The thought of letting him strap me to any of these “devices” was more than a little disturbing. I had a sudden, vivid mental image of me tied to the wooden frame, the long straps wrapped around my wrists, holding me in place. The image was gone just as quickly as it formed, but it left me uncomfortable. “My bills get paid just fine.” My voice was steady, but there was a coolness to my tone and a stiffness to my back and shoulders. “And if I need supplemental income I’ll just put in some over time.” <br><br>Did he really think I was going to submit myself to his little “games?” The idea would have been laughable if it wasn’t so disturbing. And the look on his face and tone of his voice made it clear that he was serious about his offer. Even as it made me stiff, I felt the strangest sensation over my body, as if ghostly fingers had trailed themselves over my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and gooseflesh broke out over my legs. My hand on my belt toyed with the end of my flashlight, and I although I went to take an automatic step back, I hesitated to actually do so. <br><br>Unnerved, I stared at him as he spoke out loud. When something began to emerge from the back of the room, my hand gripped the handle of my weapon, my other hand coming up in an automatic defensive gesture. I didn’t draw my gun, but my fingers itched to do so. When I saw that it was another one of his collectable pieces of furniture, I glanced from him and back to the pillory. “What the hell?” I whispered, deciding that he must have some sort of mobile rig attached to it. That was the only explanation. <br><br>My hand remained on my firearm’s grip, and I felt my jaw tighten. Every instinct was telling me to draw my gun and back out slowly, to exit the area and send for backup. But for some reason, I couldn’t seem to move, as if something held me riveted to the spot. “Actually, I do mind,” I said tightly, glaring at him. “I’m not here to play your little games. Sir.” 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>jaberwok</strong> on <strong>05-01-2010, 22:37:30</strong>
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				I chuckled softly, and drew the strands tight, taking over the motions of her legs and arms. “The game doesn't begin until you're properly situated anyway, Caylin. Come here, and bend over.” There was no hint of question or request in the statement or the gesture that accompanied it, the single finger curling slowly, drawing her towards me and the wide open maw of the wooden beast.<br><br>I could feel the fear in her slowly building, and within it the twisting core of emotional energy, a tension ready to fuel her muscles, to fight or flee as necessary, dammed by circumstance and magick. This is a wonderful thing about humans, this ability, as a similar thing happens during any sort of arousal they experience, for weal or woe. This is not unknown to them; in fact, a place called Hollywood had built an entire sub-industry on turning the energy of sexual arousal towards fear, using visual images projected onto a screen with specialized equipment, an attempt to control the sexual mores and attitudes of the public through association and acclimation. I, however, was attempting an alchemy in the opposite direction; to turn the pressure building within the crucible before me from the lead of fear into a different sort, a gold I could use.<br><br>She bent, without choice, placing her head and hands into the shallow openings in the wood as directed, and I carefully closed the top, running a hand gently along her wrists and neck to make sure they were not pinched, before latching the side, and padlocking it shut. The fit was good and snug, tight enough to prevent escape, but just loose enough so as not to impede blood flow. I moved around, out of her field of vision, and knelt behind her. I paused, just long enough to let her start to wonder what I was up to, taking an opportunity to greedily inspect her perfect ass, accentuated by the taut blue cloth stretched across it, before reaching through her legs to open the base of the pillory, pulling out the shiny steel t-shaped spreader bar.<br><br>“Spread your legs at the ankle,” I said, patting that firm derriere lovingly, just in case there was some question as to whom I was addressing. She unwillingly obliged, and I attached both ends of the steel spreader bar to her ankles, drawing the straps on the end tight before locking them into place. The free end, the base of the 't', locked firmly into place at the base of the pillory. This was mainly to keep her from losing her balance and falling, or otherwise moving and hurting herself.<br><br>I stood and admired my handiwork, before releasing the threads of control completely, letting her take back the body that was now well restrained and at my mercy. I walked back around, into her field of view, ignoring her as I pulled a chair up and sat it in front of her, facing her. I placed her cup of tea at the edge of the table, next to the chair, before picking up my own cup and saucer. I sipped once more, finishing the cup, and carried it off towards the back, to deposit in the sink. A touch more time to let her build, and she would be ready for the next step.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Butterflykiss</strong> on <strong>10-01-2010, 19:22:49</strong>
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				Captain Montenegro’s Rule #3: Be respectful, be courteous, but have a plan to kill every person you meet. I was ready to kill alright. <br><br>I didn’t believe in helplessness, or no-win scenarios. I believed that whatever situation you found yourself in, with determination you can get out of it again. Now I know that the biggest draw back to this philosophy is that it really only works if the play is fair. <br><br>This guy did not play fairly. <br><br>My eyes went to the wooden pillory and I shocked to realize that I had actually moved forward towards it, that my feet and legs had carried me forward without my brain giving them the go ahead. As I bent and placed my wrists and neck in the grooves designed to hold them, the rage flared inside of me. I wanted to fight, to punch and kick and do anything else to stop what was happening. But when my body did not respond, I felt another flicker of feeling alongside my anger: Fear. As the top of the pillory lowered, enclosing me in that ignoble position, my heart rate skyrocketed, pumping blood through my body as it prepared for either a fight or flight. <br><br>But I could do neither. <br><br>My feet, rather than kicking out, instead stepped themselves apart at his command, spreading my legs for him as nice as you please. Now my anger was also directed to my own body, its traitorous rebellion against my wishes. His hands touched me, my wrists and neck, and then my ass, his fingers making me think of spiders crawling on my skin. Why wasn’t my body jerking away from that touch? The position, bent at the waist, my ankles bound in place, was beyond comprehension, the sheer amount of control it gave him over me left me in disbelief. <br><br>Something changed, and I felt my hands move, my fingers twitching as they clenched into fists. I opened my mouth and bared my teeth, growling and snarling, my body jerking forward hard enough to rattle the wooden pillory that held me captive. I lunged at him, my rage and anger wild and hateful. If I could have sank my teeth into him and ripped his throat out, I would have. I struggled, hard enough to bruise myself on the wooden grooves, my ankles yanking at the bar that held them. My police cap fell to the floor, exposing the long, smooth ponytail holding my hair. When my efforts to escape and reach him proved fruitless, I vented my fury at him. “You bastard, you sonofabitch! Let me out of this!” I yelled and spat at him, my voice loud enough to echo in that room. <br><br>I’d never felt helpless before. With it came rage and defiance. But the fear was there as well. And it was the fear that worried me the most. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>jaberwok</strong> on <strong>20-01-2010, 05:27:38</strong>
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				I clucked disapprovingly as I returned to the table, shoes clicking quietly in the warehouse, carrying a plate. On top of it was a gleaming metal dome with a handle, concealing its contents. It still cold from where it had been sitting in the refrigerator, as the condensation running down the sides of the lid clearly attested. <br><br>“Obviously, you need to learn politesse,” I said, and sat in the chair, directly in front of her. I set the the covered plate on the table next to her cup of tea, and regarded her severely. “You mentioned a game earlier. Here, there is only one rule.” As I spoke, I worked, topping off the cup of tea with warm liquid, and removing the metal lid from the plate to reveal a pile of pastries; eclairs, a long thin French pastry filled with rum custard creme and topped with chocolate fondant. “If you do not obey, you will be punished. If you do obey, however...” I let the statement hang in the air, and held her gaze. Although my voice was calm, it clearly communicated the seriousness with which I meant those statements. “For your earlier uncouth behavior, I will demonstrate a beginning punishment.”<br><br>I rose then, swiftly, and moved around behind her. I paused long enough for her to wonder what I was doing back there, before I opened my hand, and pulled my arm back, loose and bent at the elbow. It moved forward almost of its own accord then, swinging in a low whistling arc, and the palm impacted against her ass with enough force shake the pillory frame. (Thankfully I'd reinforced this body over time; otherwise, that smack would have left my hand stinging.) I waited for her ass to stop moving, then leaned forward and reached around her waist to unbuckling her belt, being careful not to touch her ass as I did so. There would be a time for that, later, once she'd become better trained.&nbsp; I pulled the belt free from her pants, one loop at a time, catching each of the various pouches and implements that hung from it as they slipped off the end. I then walked back around. <br><br>“Each additional time will be worse,” I said casually as I sat again, allowing everything I'd taken to tumble noisily to the floor, except for the thick black nightstick, which I set purposefully on the edge of the table, a dull thud marking its heavy weight as it landed, an impressive view from her angle. “That may become useful later.” I thought for a moment, then retrieved the belt itself as well, tucking it under the nightstick, where it hung over the edge of the table. “I think we both hope that will <i>not</i> become useful later.” I raised one eyebrow at her, making sure she caught my meaning.<br><br>I then picked up the cup of tea, steam floating off of it in a small vertical cloud, and held it near her head, allowing the scent of cinnamon to waft gently around her and into her. I held it there, letting her steep in its smell and flavor, before finally I lifted the cup of tea gently to her lips. “Drink.”
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				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Butterflykiss</strong> on <strong>25-01-2010, 23:27:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anger was a tangible thing. It roared inside my head and made my blood boil. I barely noticed when he began speaking, so loud was the sound of my own heartbeat. Gradually, I calmed down enough to listen, to digest what he was saying. The ultimatum made me want to laugh in his face. But I waited, my eyes burning into his. Biding my time. <br><br>When he moved around behind me I went utterly still. I didn’t want to give him the pleasure of struggling for his amusement. The loud slap to my backside was like a crack of thunder, and I was sent forward against the pillory, my mouth opening as I drew in a great sucking gasp in spite of myself. But that was the only reaction I gave him. I braced myself, waiting for the next blow, grinding my teeth so as not to make a sound. But he only removed my belt. Without my weapons, my symbols of power, I felt naked and exposed, even though I was still wearing all of my clothing. <br><br>The smart thing would have been to play along, to bide my time in hopes of creating a chance for escape or to call for backup. The thought of rolling over for this guy made me see red. He moved back into my field of vision and I set my jaw. My eyes flicked to the baton on the table, smooth and gleaming black. I kept my gear in good condition. The cup was brought to my lips, the fragrant steam filling my nostrils and warming my face. I looked down at the liquid pooling in the cup, and then lifted my eyes back to him. I kept my gaze locked with his as I parted my lips, opening my mouth. As the cup was tilted, I took in a mouthful of the liquid. It was warm and sweet, and my throat tickled with the urge to swallow it. As the cup lowered from my face, I spat the liquid at him. My lips curled in a snarl as I bared my teeth at him, and a line of saliva dripped from my lips to land on the floor . <br><br>“Go to hell,” I growled. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>jaberwok</strong> on <strong>30-01-2010, 03:47:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I watched the stream as it left her mouth, arcing down to splash on the floor between my feet. It was a courageous effort, and one I had expected, although I'd hoped she'd be more compliant. Police officer, I reminded myself. She's used to being in control. I sighed heavily, disappointment heavy in the sound, and tsk'ed at her, even as I picked up a napkin from the table, and used it to dab away the saliva from her mouth, careful to avoid her teeth. After all, I wouldn't want her to hurt herself.<br><br>“That was uncalled for,” I said mildly, and placed the cup and saucer on the table. I picked up the teapot and poured a fresh cup, but this time added a healthy dollop of rum to the mix after setting the pot down. I picked up the belt, considered it in front of her, before dropping it and picking up the baton. I hefted it, where she could see, considered its thick weight, swung it experimentally a few times, testing for balance.<br><br>I stood then, suddenly, and looked down at the top of her head. “Let's try a different sort of persuasion, then, shall we?” I walked slowly around behind her, letting the end of the nightstick tap along the top of the wooden frame, before then dragging the tip lightly down her back, watching as it rumpled the fabric of her shirt. It reached the hem of her pants, and caught slightly, and I tsked again. “You won't be needing those,” I said in a condescending voice, “They'll just get in the way.” I slipped the nightstick into my pocket, much longer and thicker than anything already in the region, and leaned over her, reaching around, the snap of an unfastened clasp soon followed by the long slow hiss of zipper being undone.<br><br>Blue cloth slid over hips, exposing smooth creamy skin, a patch still red from the spanking earlier. I pulled the pants down as far as they would go, straining between her locked legs, and I started working at the garment with both hands, pulling and tugging; a few seconds later a series of loud ripping noises echoed loudly in the chamber,&nbsp; marking success as I pulled the garment away completely, dropping the tattered remains to the floor behind her. The panties were next, although I didn't go through the effort of removing them completely; they stopped at mid thigh, hanging taut between her legs like a flag at half mast, and I ran my fingers over the exposed cheek of her ass, the one that wasn't blushing, starting near the small of her back, before sliding down slowly, nails dragging in fingers wake, only lifting when they neared the junction of her thighs.<br><br>I pulled the heavy baton out of my pocket, and pressed the now warm plastic encased steel pipe against that same cheek. My other hand went to the small of her back, steadying her. I glanced back, sure she was gritting her teeth for what she surely expected from me. I offered an out. “If you apologize, I'll stop now, and we can return to the lessons.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Butterflykiss</strong> on <strong>09-02-2010, 00:26:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I jerked back from the napkin, and snapped my teeth at him too late. Pity. It would have been nice to sink my teeth into those gentlemanly hands. When he disappeared around behind me, I could only grind my teeth in helpless fury. The rage continued to build as he removed my pants, and the loud sound of them ripping screamed in my ears. <br><br>My uniform. Unbidden mental images came to mind. The first time I’d received it and my badge, my father’s face when I’d graduated from the academy, the time I’d taken that very morning to iron it, to check the buttons and seams for any tears or frays, the pristine condition I’d kept it in. My panties were a tight band around my upper thighs, and I felt the cool air rush around the bare skin of my now exposed legs and backside. I tried not to shift where I was standing. It would do me no good. <br><br>Bastard. Why didn’t he just rape me and get it over with? This process of waiting, watching, that damn steady tone of voice, all of it made me want to scream. More than anything else, the anticipation of what might or might not happen was driving me closer to an dark edge. My jaw tightened when I told myself it’s exactly what he wanted. To see me squirm and break. But I was a cop, whether in uniform or not. I told myself I was made of sterner stuff. And I was. I'd been beaten before, I'd been in fights, sometimes starting them, sometimes breaking them up. I'd been shot before, and still carry the puckered scar of that on one shoulder. <em>I can take it</em>, I told myself, and it became a mental mantra that I repeated continuously in my mind, the words looping over and over again. <em>I can take it I cant take it.</em> <br><br>When he rested his hand on my back, and my baton against my skin, I set my jaw, my nostrils flaring as I breathed rapidly. I fixed my gaze on a spot on the floor, steadying myself as much as I could. His offer only made me grow stiller. The word lessons rubbed me the wrong way, like I was some ignorant fool and he was the kindly professor here to teach me things. All I had to do was eat from his hand. <br><br>“Fuck you,” I muttered. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>jaberwok</strong> on <strong>11-02-2010, 05:28:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She tensed, back arching, buttocks clenching, tensing herself, all preparation for a blow that would never come. Time to switch it up. I tried not to let my grin show in my voice as I responded smoothly. “Your choice.” I pulled the stick away, and I could feel her brace herself, getting ready to be struck. Extending my thoughts, I could sense her mentally ready for a savage beating, and I continued to eavesdrop on her mind, waiting to take advantage of the mental change of gears she'd be forced to make. <br><br>Instead of bringing the nightstick down onto her soft behind, took my hand off of her back, and instead slipped it between her legs, cupping her sex in my hand, middle finger teasing the outer gates, lying fully along them, so that if I moved the tip of that finger a fraction of an inch downward, it would put pressure on the sensitive nub hidden within. I didn't, though; I then held my hand still, didn't move it at all, and just let her know I was there through its presence. I knew when her expression changed without even seeing it, and it was then that I pounced, slipping past the defenses that would normally work to stop me, that would alert her to my presence, her shock serving as a suitable diversion. I explored there, weaving memories and expectations together with telekinetic energy, creating illusions that only she (and I, through her mind) could see. They'd be real to her, however; her mental energy would moderate their behavior, so although I'd control their general actions, they'd tap into her memories and expectations for mannerisms and behavioral cues. I withdrew again, before the shock wore off, leaving thin threads she wouldn't notice, and grinned again. This should be interesting.<br><br>A knock sounded behind him, perhaps on the (now nonexistent) door through which they'd both entered. The sound of it opening followed, with low voices speaking beyond it. A recognizable female voice, that of the police chief herself, called out, clipped and efficient, “Mr. Green? Are you here?”<br><br>“Yes,” I answered, sounding almost bored. “Come in, please. I'm just attending to a client.”<br><br>The sound of heels clicking on the concrete pad grew louder, accompanied by the sounds of a group of young men muttering to themselves, and stopped a couple of yards back. If she'd actually been there, she would have had one hell of a view. “I'm very sorry to bother you, sir,” she said, and I tweaked the illusion slightly, inserting both familiarity and a slightly submissive quality to her tone of speech, a detail I knew Ms. Montenegro would appreciate.<br><br>“Don't worry about it, dear,” I said generously, in the same tone I'd been using with Caylin. “As I've said a million times, I'm always happy to do what I can to help another peacekeeper.”<br><br>She tittered slightly, blush coloring her voice. “I'm looking for Officer Montenegro. These gentlemen have accused her of harassing them unduly.”<br><br>“Oh, really?” I said, curiosity coloring my voice, and at that point I started moving, just a little bit, softly and slowly, gently stimulating the entire area. The male voices quieted down, obviously transfixed by what was occurring in front of them. "I believe she mentioned something along those lines earlier, when she was in the front."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Arreichio's Diary: Officer Montenegro [Jaberwok x Butterfly]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Butterflykiss</strong> on <strong>25-02-2010, 19:17:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I waited, tensing for blows that never came. I'm in good shape, always have been. A lifetime of running five miles every morning will do that. I could feel the steadiness in my legs, the long lean muscles in them bunching, bracing my body to resist and strain against injury. There was no tremble in them, no wavering weakness. Only strength and steadiness. Two things I was known for and were proud of.<br><br>But the blows never came. Instead, that gentlemanly hand eased its way to my sex, fingers parting me as pleasantly as you please, and I drew in a great sucking breath of air, holding it as those fingers hovered near me. I found feel my hips drawing back reflexively and hated myself for this, the smallest of retreats. My inner muscles clenched defensively, and my inner thighs stiffened as they tried automatically, and in vain, to close, to keep that hand away from me. As they did, memories rose unbidden to my mind, and for a moment I felt myself not standing there in that terrible warehouse of horrors. A strange and disorienting montage of images overtook me. My first time in high school, the boy fumbling and nervous but eager. And later in college, my first full time lover, Eric, with the strong slow hands. The night he discovered my penchant for oral sex, the night we tried anal, and our frantic and hard-paced evenings whenever he or I returned from a long trip.<br><br>Other images as well, of one night stands and off and on lovers, but for some reason these first time experiences were the most vivid. In some distant part of myself, I watched in vague dismay as my body reacted to the memories as if reliving them. My mouth was watering, lips slack for a moment, throat working convulsively. The muscles of sex tensed and fluttered as if grasping, and my hips flared and bucked slightly.<br><br>The daze was interrupted by the sounds of knocks and voices behind me. Still disoriented, my body still feeling the strange mix of feelings and unwanted longings, I tried to focus over the sound of my own breathing and heart beat to listen. A woman's voice, and I wondered immediately if it would be worthwhile shouting for help. But the tone in her voice only made my anger return, and I clenched my hands helplessly. I hated women like that. Her obsequiousness practically oozed from her words. <br><br>There were other voices less audible than hers, the low murmur of male bodies, and I went still when I realized who they were. My teeth clenched and I growled low in my throat. The fact that those punk kids from before were now ogling me in this position brought a new, heightened sense of shame, and I jerked at the pillory holding me, shaking the wooden base even as I told myself mentally not to do so, that giving them a show was the last thing I wanted.<br><br>The growl stopped and turned into another sucking breath as those gentlemanly fingers touched me, and I was horrified to find myself now sensitive to his touch. I pressed my lips tight together to stop the moan that wanted to escape me. I didn't know if the moan was from despair or from the strange feelings of wanton lust that had come over me from the memories and images. <br><br>And this fact scared me more than anything else. 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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