Chapter 5

Finishing my post-workout shower I dried myself off and worked at restoring my hairdo with brush and blow drier, still mulling over that erotic evening with Maria, only our second. What had I been thinking as I led her up to my room?

Of course I hadn't been thinking. How many hormone-crazed high school freshmen think? The uniform for dinner had been "house-standard," which is to say, the same as The Program's. Maria hadn't hesitated to shed her clothes when she saw me and Mom and Elaine all together in the altogether. Since she'd told me she was bringing her toothbrush there really wasn't any doubt what was going to happen.

The devil was in the details.

The details were that I, a sexually liberated bisexual teenager, was leading a lush, naked, beautiful Hispanic cop up to my bedroom with one hand, while dangling a pair of handcuffs in the other. As far as I was concerned my intentions were obvious. Yet she'd trailed me up the stairs as meekly as a lamb to slaughter. Why?

I hadn't thought of it then, but now, as I fluffed my 'do, I remembered a conversation I'd had with Mom when she and Elaine had first hooked up. She'd told me that the only time she could forget her responsibilities as a single working mother was when she was a sub to Elaine's domme. Then she could forget the worries and responsibilities and indulge in a few precious hours of sexual and psychological release.

I realized now, from my perspective as a high school senior, how hard it had to have been for Maria, a young ambitious policewoman, fearing that at any moment her cover might be blown, that she might have to make a literally life-or-death decision. I could see how submitting to me was a very attractive proposition. No wonder she'd so willingly gone along with me. It certainly revealed a remarkable amount of trust.

Behind my closed bedroom door I had turned to face her, and tumbled into the depths of those beautiful dark eyes...

It took me a moment to gather my wits.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Cops and robbers." I dangled the handcuffs in front of her, my heart racing, my nipples so hard they hurt.

Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating, and she licked her lips. "You've got the cuffs. I guess that means I'm the robber."

"And you are so busted," I whispered, leaning close to give her a soft, sensuous kiss.

Was she ever busted -- beautifully busted! She had tits I'd never have -- full, lush, firm boobs capped with dark nipples, areolas the size of fifty-cent pieces that were already eagerly puffed up. Bust-challenged I might be, but even at fourteen I was a good six inches taller, looming over her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. Her scent was intoxicating.

"I'm going to frisk you. Assume the position." I made a twirling motion with my finger.

She didn't hesitate, turning around, reaching for the frame on either side of the my bedroom door, spreading her bare feet, taking a step back, leaning on her hands. For a moment she held her head up, looking nervously back over her shoulder at me, a "like this?" look in her eyes, her ripe lips parted sensuously.

Oh God! Even from the back she was beautiful, very fit but very nicely rounded, too, her arms strong, broad shoulders, from there her back tapering to her waist, womanly hips lush and nicely rounded, buttocks strong and smooth, a tuft of hair visible in the crevice between her thighs, legs shapely and firmly muscled. Her satin-smooth skin was a shade of butterscotch that made me want to eat her up.

At my nod she turned away and her head went down submissively. She drew a deep, shaky breath, sighed it out, the nervous tension yielding to sensuous softness. She abandoned herself to the moment, and to me. Her nipples, those lovely dusky nipples, were stiff peaks on the swollen cones of her areolas. Her firm ass clenched, dimpling, relaxed, clenched again. A sexy little shudder made her tits tremble, and I knew this was going to be a night to remember.

How many fourteen-year-olds, male or female, ever had a cop as luscious as this at her mercy? Leaning over her, deliberately breathing in her ear, I gently used a foot to nudge her feet a little further apart, and a little further back, putting more of her weight on her hands so she was even more vulnerable. Reaching around her I very deliberately draped the short chain linking the cuffs over the doorknob in front of her. She couldn't help but see the cold, shiny bracelets, their ratchet jaws open, waiting for her.

Oh, was I going to enjoy this night, and I was going to make sure she did, too.

Maria's thick, black hair was drawn back in a ponytail by a scrunchy -- bright red, her favorite color, a perfect accent for her ebony locks. I drew the hair-tie off, flipped it away before spreading her hair over her coppery shoulders.

Then, standing between her spread feet, close behind her, I began my "frisk," a leisurely stroking rather than a hasty pat-down.

She flinched at my first feathery-light touch. Starting on her forehead I combed my fingers through her thick tresses, then went back to her face, reaching around her head, brushing her dark eyebrows, receiving butterfly kisses from her long, dark lashes, touching the fold at the corner of her eyes, tracing the fullness of her nose, scratched by the sharp edged diamond decorating her left nostril, stroking her soft, round cheeks, her skin like satin.

Closing my eyes, leaning my bare pussy gently and intimately against the firm curve of her warm naked ass, I tried to relate what I was feeling with my fingertips to the face I knew so well, a face shaped by her mix of Spanish Conquistador and Aztec, or perhaps Mayan. I wondered fleetingly if this was how blind sculptor Henry Carver "saw" me, my fingers moving down, the soft fuzz above the bow-like curves of her lips, the breath puffing from her nose and mouth. I teasingly slipped my index finger into between her lips, the wet velvet of her welcoming tongue sensuously tasting me, her strong white teeth gently scraping me, her lips sucking, as I slowly withdrew.

Moving on, I explored the curves of her ears, teasing the gems in her lobes, then down the sides of her neck, feeling the strength there. I couldn't resist briefly wrapping my hands around her throat, squeezing gently to measure the strength there, before stroking my palms out to her shoulders, then sliding my fingers up the insides of her well-muscled arms, feeling her hands tensing against the doorframe, feeling back down the outsides, the stubble in her armpits rasping my fingertips before I groped forward around her to trace the abundant curves of her breasts, their fullness lifted by the position of her arms. She gasped, her chest heaving as I teased her, brushing her nipples ever-so gently, making them stiffen and swell even more before my hands cupped the lush mounds, weighed them, tested their firmness, sensing their muscular foundations, the strength of her chest and torso.

I pinched her tits and she moaned.

As I leaned even closer to reach around her I tongued her ear and she whimpered, cocked her head in a way that pleaded for more. Teasingly, I blew softly in her ear, licked her lobe before I nipped at her neck, my hands sliding down her body, marveling at the strength I felt there, how her tummy muscles squirmed in reaction to my delicate touch. I toyed with her navel ring, probed the hollow and she sucked in a breath. She was trembling, but not, I knew, from the strain of her position. This was in anticipation of what was to come. Stroking the swell of her abdomen my fingers traced the joining of thighs and pelvis, at last encountering the thick curls of her pussy-bush. I tugged at the hairs there, her ass clenching, her pelvis working invitingly.

Backing off, I continued to tease her, massaging the strength of her glutes, running a single tickling finger down the crack between her buttocks, squeezing her hips before kneeling to run my hands down the outsides of her legs to her ankles, her feet, her toes, then back up the insides of her legs, closer and closer to my ultimate goal, stopping when I felt the first tickle of hair between her thighs. From behind, my left hand found the tropical forest cloaking the crevice that was home to her precious flower.

I was a lewd female Indiana Jones, testing that steamy grotto with its precious treasures. Cupping her pussy I wiggled my fingers, massaging her full outer labia's softness through the cushion of wiry hair.

Leaning over her, my lips close to her ear, making sure she'd feel my hot breath, I whispered, very softly, "I'm going to be very, very thorough. For all I know you might have some contraband tucked away, maybe even a weapon. I am going to do a cavity search."

She shuddered. It wasn't an objection.

"Both cavities," I added, building the suspense. I was trembling myself with the knowledge that there was no way for her to keep me from exploring her most intimate depths, not that she wanted to. Drawing my left hand back to the crack of her ass I slid the right down her tummy to cup her pussy from the front, pressing down the curls, my middle finger breaking a trail through the forest to nestle in the hot, slippery crevice between her inner lips.

Her sigh was an exhalation of total surrender.

I pressed deeper between her rippled petals, the tip of my finger finding the tunnel of her vagina.

It sucked me in, welcoming my invasion! I wriggled it into her, as deep as my fuck finger could reach, my palm pressing hard against the soft cushion of her pussy, her hot vagina clutching my finger. Impishly, I with drew it out a ways, added a second finger, penetrated again, deliberately stretching her folds, curling my fingers to stroke the front wall of her cunt, the thick flow of her juices flooding the spongy, nerve-loaded patch of her G spot.

She groaned.

As I maintained that distraction by wiggling my fingers my other hand was preparing to open a second front -- or is rear the right word, considering the point of attack? -- two fingers invading her sopping vagina from below, making it four fingers stretching her as I gathered her juices, using them to paint the pucker of her butt-hole with her own lubricants, doing it again, and yet again, as much to stimulate her cunt as to drench her anus with slipperiness.

With the fingers of my right hand still buried in her cunt from the front, I began carefully working the slimy tip of my left bird finger into the resisting pucker of her asshole. I delicately wiggled it, twisting it, auguring my way into her hot, dark depths. It was only one finger, but it was relentlessly penetrating her. There wasn't much lube left, so there was a lot of friction. I keep my nails clipped short, so I didn't need to worry about that. Her sphincter resisted, relaxed, clenched again, relaxed, yielding a millimeter at a time. From personal experience I knew what she had to be feeling -- I'd been penetrated back there myself, more than once, by more than just a finger -- and I envied her that a delectable itching stinging sensation, a feeling made all the more exciting by the naughtiness of the invasion.

Beachheads established in both openings, I pressed my advantage, exploring the walls of her cavities as she gasped and moaned, shaking, her arms locked straight, leaning heavily on her hands, accepting my assault. I worked a second finger into her ass, stretching her sphincter more. Through the thin barrier I felt the fingers in her cunt, wiggled them against each other, pinching gently, pumping in and out.

Both openings were body-hot, but the two portals felt so different! Her vagina was wet, slippery, soft-petaled, welcoming. Her anus was tight, resisting, the sphincter clutching, a band gripping my fingers, beyond that rubbery constriction the inner walls felt like greasy velvet. I loved the wickedness of the act. She was whimpering and panting, while I was in a sexual clench of my own at the very idea of what I was doing. I pressed my right hand hard against the arch above her cunt, rubbing, pinching and rolling her clit against the bone, fingers stroking her G Spot. Wiggling the fingers of my other hand in her rectum I pressed my palm against her tailbone.

All of a sudden I was rewarded by all the muscles in her crotch, front and rear, going into the clench-clench-clench of an orgasm, her pussy flooding my hand. I was humping my pussy at her ass, rubbing my clit against my own wrist, thereby shoving my fingers even further into her rectum. My own guts knotted in sympathy with a coming of my own.

Through it all she held her position, arms locked, stiff and straight, leaning hard on her hands, her stomach muscles rippling, her ass pushing back against my hand as if trying to drive my wriggling fingers even deeper. She was straining from head to toe, her head tipped back, cords of muscle standing out in her neck as she grunted with her coming -- uh, uh, uh, uh -- before relaxing in convulsive stages -- clench, relax, clench again, relax more -- finally sagging, sweating, panting, quivering with aftershocks but resolutely maintaining "the position."

She flinched as I slowly withdrew my fingers from her depths, her anus pinching shut, my fingers sucking from her vagina. Unable to resist the temptation I sniffed, first the sweet musk of pussy on my right hand, then the earthy stink of shit on the left. Leaving her leaning there, trying to catch her breath, I wiped my hands on some tissues before reaching for the cuffs, deliberately rattling them off the doorknob.

That drew another shiver from her.

Knowing how it was done from watching TV, I struggled a bit, finally using both hands to snap a cuff on her right wrist before helping her regain her balance. Drawing both hands down behind the small of her back I cuffed them together. Then I gently turned her around to hold her against me, all hot and sweaty and sighing -- happily, I assumed. With her hands trapped behind her back she couldn't hug me back, so she squirmed instead, her tits warm cushions against me, her cheek against mine, panting in my ear until I drew away.

"You have the right to remain silent," I informed her between hot, deep, tongue-tangling kisses, then gave up trying to remember the rest of it I was so filled with love and desire. "But I'll make you sing like a bird before this night is out."

"You got a rubber hose or something hidden away I don't know about?" she asked breathlessly.

"Or something," I answered, guiding her over to my bed so she could sit down.

"You gonna leave me like this?" She tested the cuffs, working her shoulders, making her breasts wobble delectably.

"I have the keys," I admitted, having palmed them with the cuffs. This domme thing was still new to me. "On my bureau."

"Leave them there," she answered, fulfilling my fondest hopes by letting herself down on her back and wriggling, trying to get more comfortable, her breasts wobbling. I helped by lifting her feet and swiveling her around on her butt to lie lengthwise on the bed, a pillow behind her head. With her shoulders drawn back her tits jutted up awesomely. As if to emphasize her vulnerability she sprawled one leg to the side, the pink ruffles of her pussy blossoming, a jungle flower in the lush foliage at her crotch. "Do with me what you will, Chiquita. I will never confess," she announced defiantly.

Then she giggled. "Except, maybe, to my priest, who would never believe it. Though on second thought, knowing his parish, he has probably already heard it all," she added, a shadow darkening her eyes.

"Don't go there," I told her, distracting her with a kiss. "Don't go anywhere. I need to wash my hands. Then I think my prisoner needs a sip of water and a sponge bath before I give her the third degree."

What a memory!

After I stowed the hair dryer in my swimming bag I contemplated the few clothes I had with me before rolling them up and stuffing them into the bag as well. Today was Saturday, which meant I had a posing appointment. Even though it was early in the day and a bit cool I saw no reason to get dressed only to have to undress when I got there, except for tennies on my feet, of course. It certainly wouldn't be the first time I bicycled through the town like Lady Godiva, and it had been a couple of years since anyone had tried to run me off the road.

As I put the finishing touches on my hair, using the locker room mirror, I remembered how I'd skipped to the bathroom after that wonderful frisking.

When came back I was juggling a bowl of warm water holding a washrag in one hand, a towel over my arm, and a cup of cold water in the other hand. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. She was so beautiful, and so helpless. I walked toward her, wondering what she saw in me, a scrawny teenager.