Chapter 9

Although it had only been a week since I took emergency leave from my job, it felt like months had passed. I had what might be described as a support function position within the organization, a few steps above the janitorial service to be sure, but still a service slot. I kept the office machinery working properly, but left the dirty work to the cadre of technicians and consultants that our company depended upon to keep us churning out whatever was required by our headquarters group.

As I made my rounds through the rabbit warrens that passed for office space, it was as if I was in one of those commercials for the little blue pills that kept older guys feeling as if they were still in their teens. Everyone sort of looked at me as if I had grown six inches, added 30 pounds of muscle and just been announced as the latest lottery winner. Things really got weird when I paid my respects to the office manager's secretary, JJ.

JJ, to her boss, but Jillian Jones to the rest of the wage slaves, was a motherly looking woman who appeared to be on that vague dividing line between middle age and what lay beyond. She was graying, dressed very conservatively, which prevented any kind of realistic assessment of her figure, and still possessed her British accent. She had always treated me properly, but kept her distance when it came to matters not involving business. No one was even sure if she was married, divorced, widowed or living in sin, the only categories available to the office gossips who had next to nothing to work on.

This morning I was rewarded with a warm smile and an inquiry concerning the health of my wife's sister. Going along with the charade, I replied that Allie was recovering slowly and it would be many months before my wife and I were reunited. JJ picked up on that remark immediately and made an unexpected joke concerning my need for help in the kitchen, and perhaps other rooms as well, during Jill's absence. This was so untypical of this staid office guardian that I was hard pressed to make any response, my mind turning over rapidly, struggling to make sense of this comment. Claiming that I was far behind in my work because of this personal crisis, I made my escape.

As I drove home that evening I mulled over what had transpired during the day. It suddenly hit me that I was no longer that person who used to work there. My experiences during the past week had caused obvious changes to my attitude and outlook. It was this change that people had noticed immediately. Hell, I had fucked three women during the last week; even during my bachelor days I could never have made that statement with a straight face. Come to think about it, I had never fucked any women that matched the kind of partners I had been with recently. They all shared one unique trait, a degree of kinkiness that was well beyond anything I had ever experienced. My wife might be a tramp, but her tastes ran to the conventional side of the sexual spectrum. That reminded me that I was expecting some photographs from Allie. I wondered if they were waiting for me in the mailbox.

It wasn't until the following day that I found a thick envelope from Allie buried in the usual junk mail that filled our box. After mixing a drink and settling down in the now quiet apartment, I opened the packet and discovered a set of ten photos covering my wife's stay at the police station. Allie had scribbled some very brief comments on the back of all but one picture, sort of a guide to the action. My fevered imagination filled in the rest.

Evidently my tramp wife had not been a model prisoner and paid dearly for misbehaving. Either that or she was being put through one hell of an initiation in her new life as a cop groupie. In the first picture she was stark naked and hanging by her wrists from a beam in the ceiling of what looked to be a large shower stall. Jill was soaked from head to toe, her wet hair plastered to her head which lolled against her tits. On the back Allie had written, "Nothing like a good hosing to calm down an unruly prisoner." As I stared at the photograph I could imagine the sheriff and his men playing a high pressure stream of water up and down Jill's bare body, flattening her firm tits, caving in her belly and even splitting her fat cunt lips as she sputtered and pleaded for them to stop this torment.

The next two pictures showed her pussy and asshole being stretched to the limit. It looked like her cunt was holding at least four night sticks. I took a guess that she was probably taking about eight inches of baton in that cheating cunt. Lo and behold the words on the back made me laugh. "Sis took nearly a foot of wood, not bad for an amateur whore." In the other picture her asshole was wrapped around a pair of night sticks. I wondered how far up her ass they had jammed those lengths of hard wood. I also wondered what had made all those nasty cuts and welts that covered her swollen asscheeks. The words on the back didn't provide any help this time. "This was just for openers. Ran out of film. Sorry" Obviously the photos were not in sequence. I continued to leaf through the remaining snapshots.

The answer to one of my question was now obvious. There were two shots of her ass after being whipped big time. In the first picture it looked as if she was wearing a pair of red panties. The words "Jill's ass after an hour of steady strapping" were written on the back of the picture. I closed my eyes and imagined a line of cops with heavy belts wrapped around their fists waiting their turn to lay the leather to her ass, as one of them whaled away on her. I wondered how many strokes that crimson-colored heart shaped bottom had taken. The second snapshot showed her swollen backside criss-crossed with deep welts that went from the tender area just beneath those swollen globes to the dimpled region just beyond where the crack between her cheeks ended. I laughed at the remark Allie had penned on the back of the picture. "A car antenna put to good use. We're getting one for our home."

I let out a whoop when I got a look at the following photo; it was a pip! Jill was suspended about a foot above the floor by her tits, hands cuffed behnd her back. Those noosed knockers looked like twin purple bowling balls. Her mouth was agape and those baby blue eyes seemed to be on the verge of popping from their sockets. It was pretty obvious that she'd been hanging by her tits for quite some time. I couldn't tell if this was done before or after her whipping because of the angle from which the picture was taken. I dismissed the idea that she'd been whipped while she dangled from her roped tits like a worm on a hook, although it sounded like a whole lot of fun to me. The words "Just hanging around with the cops", written on the back made me laugh out loud.

From the stuff depicted in the remaining four pictures it was evident that the cops were definitely showing Jill what to expect as their groupie, whether she was willing or not. Two photos showed her receiving a golden shower and learning how to properly swallow piss. Three deputies were involved in her first lesson, covering her naked body from head to foot as she lay on the floor with her legs spread and hands clasped behind her head. In the second snapshot she was kneeling with her hands on her knees and her mouth open wide. The chief was doing the honors, pissing straight into her overflowing mouth, the yellow fluid running down to coat her discolored tits and finally puddling just below her crotch. On the back of this picture Allie had scribbled "Learning the joys of recycling. Rod and I will be giving her lots of lessons."