The Palpable Prosecutor - Cover

The Palpable Prosecutor

Copyright© 2016 by Lubrican

Chapter 13

Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 13 - Lacey got assigned to prosecute a case that could make her career. The problem was that she got the case because the previous prosecutor was dead. Now it looked like she might get that way too, unless she had some protection. The man she chose to do that was good at his job. But having him around changed things. Changed her. That change would lead to a wonderful destination, but it would be a hell of a bumpy ride before she got there. Assuming the guy she was prosecuting didn't kill her first.

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Reluctant   First   Masturbation   Petting   Pregnancy   Slow   Violence  

An hour later Lacey got into position to sit on him again. This time she started while sitting up and reached to bend his penis until the tip caught in her opening. She sank down on it with a grateful sigh.

“My mother said losing my virginity would be agony,” she said. “She lied about everything. I understand that now. But I think I understand why.”

“Tell me,” he said.

“Because this is only the second time I’ve done this, and I already can’t wait to do it again. It’s addictive. What I don’t understand is why she appeared to hate it so much. I can only think of one time when I saw them hugging. And they slept in separate bedrooms, Bob!”

“I’ve heard of women who had something wrong with them inside, which caused sex to be painful,” suggested Bob.

“Maybe that was it,” she said. “It just makes me sad, that’s all. I know how much I’ve missed. I’m not sure she ever did.”

“I was afraid you’d be a little sore from before,” he said.

She wiggled on his boner.

“I am,” she said.

“Then why are you doing this?” he asked.

“Because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as getting shot,” she said. “So I’m good, thank you very much.”

She started sliding on him, and whined happily.

Maybe it was because she was gaining more experience, but this time, twenty minutes into things, she squealed that it was happening to her and shook like a dog just out of the water as an orgasm raced through her.

This time, as he spurted deep in her belly, he didn’t feel like he’d let her down.


The next morning, not having to go to court, Lacey decided she wanted to try her new favorite pastime again. This time she straddled his lap, wearing her robe, and let herself down on his stiff cock. Then she had him feed her while she explored the new muscles she’d discovered, clenching them and relaxing them.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” she said. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because what you’re doing right now is one of the services offered by high price hookers in Hong Kong,” he said.

She slapped his shoulder with her right hand and then immediately apologized as she realized she’d hit the shoulder he’d been shot in.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she moaned.

“I know a way you can make it up to me,” he said.

“How?” she asked, earnestly.

“Just keep doing what you were doing. If you do I’ll give you a nice hot present in your pretty pussy.”

“I’m still not used to hearing that word,” she said. But she went back to squeezing him.

“This is tiring,” she said, after a few minutes.

“It’s a lot of work,” he admitted. “Hence why only high priced ... um ... I mean so few women want to learn how to do it.”

“Tell me when you’re going to shoot off,” she said. “I think I felt it last night, but I want to see if I can this morning.”

“Okay.” Then he frowned. “Wait. Do you realize what we’re talking about, here?”

“You spurting?”

“Yes, but where have I been spurting?”

“Inside me?”

“And the Lacey I know is not on birth control pills. Am I wrong?”

“My parents didn’t believe in birth control pills,” she said.

“I didn’t think they were Catholic,” said Bob.

“They weren’t. They were Shadow Of The Valley Of Death Pentecostals,” she said. “They don’t believe in birth control either.”

“That’s a denomination I haven’t heard of,” said Bob.

“I think our church was the only one,” she said. “I never heard of any others.”

“Well, how do you feel about having a baby?” he asked.

“Bob! I’ve only been making love for less than twenty-four hours. Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be talking about having children?”

“Not if you consider that I’ve already put enough sperm in you to father several million of them,” he said.

She blinked. Then her eyes got wide. Then she relaxed.

“It’s okay,” she said. “My mother couldn’t have any children.”

“Need I remind you you were adopted?”

She went through the whole blinking, eyes getting wide thing again. This time she didn’t relax.

“I guess I need to figure out when, during my cycle, it is most safe to have sex,” she said.

“Gee, you think so?”

She looked hurt and he apologized immediately.

“I’m sorry. Don’t get me wrong. I’d love for you to have my children. But that should probably be at a time in your life when you want to.”

“I never really thought about having children,” she said. “I mean I thought it might happen someday, but I had no idea how that would happen.”

“It happens when you do this,” he said. He flexed his prick inside her.

“I know that!” she said, almost slapping him on the shoulder again. She pulled it at the last second. He winced anyway, in anticipation.

“I notice you’re still sitting on it,” he said.

“I don’t know how I feel about birth control,” she said.

“If you keep doing that, it may not matter,” he said. “The thought of making you pregnant right now kind of has me going. If you stay where you are much longer I’m going to add a few more million sperm cells to the mix.”

“Really? You really want to get me pregnant? That wasn’t ... hyperbole?”

“I love you,” he said.

“That means you want to get me pregnant?”

“I happen to think pregnant women look sexy,” he said. “And since you’re my favorite woman at the moment, the idea of you being pregnant makes me think of you as being incredibly sexy. And yes, that makes me want to knock you up big time.”

“That sounds so crass,” she said. “Why do men call it knocking the girl up?”

“I knew a guy one time who said it came from a long time ago and had something to do with knocking a baby out of a woman. That didn’t make sense to me. Personally, I think it has its roots in a man going at it with a woman and the headboard knocking against the wall. When he was fucking her he was knocking her up against the wall, so to speak. So if she was pregnant, that meant she had been knocked up. Don’t quote me on that, though. That’s just something I thought up.”

“And what do you mean, I’m your favorite woman ... at the moment?” She tried to look fierce.

“It’s true,” he said, his face straight. “At this moment I cannot think of any other woman I like more than you.”

“You can’t knock me up,” she said, firmly.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because you’re too injured to make the headboard bang against the wall,” she said.

She leaned forward to kiss him. It was a very passionate kiss. That kiss, along with the fact that she had not gotten off of him to mitigate the possibility of getting pregnant, made him reach through the opening of her robe and squeeze her breast. As his fingers found the nipple, he imagined it weeping milk.

Just like that he shot off. Again, he had no warning. This woman was doing things to him no other woman ever had.

He broke the kiss.

“Sorry,” he panted. “I was kissing you when it was time to warn you, and I just didn’t want to stop kissing you.”

“I felt it,” she said, squeezing him some more. “I think you really do want to knock me up.”

“Let’s just say I can’t wait until I’m healthy enough to destroy your headboard.”


It was ten o’clock when Lacey said, “I think we’re supposed to check out today. And I should probably go to work. I mean I’m not in court, and I’m not on vacation. My boss will probably be wondering where the heck I went.”

“I’m guessing your boss knows exactly where you are,” said Bob. “He’s got twenty or thirty US Marshals watching you.”

“That’s going to end pretty soon, too,” she said. “In fact, I’m kind of amazed they’re still here right now.”

She went to the room door and opened it. A black man in a U.S. Marsahal windbreaker was standing outside it. He had an earwig in his ear with a wire running down his lapel.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Why haven’t you guys gone home, yet? The trial is over.”

“We were told to stay with you, Ma’am,” said the man.

“Why?”

“That’s above my pay grade, Ma’am,” he said.

“I’m going to get ready to go to my office. Maybe I can find out there what’s going on.”

The man pulled his cuff up to his mouth and spoke softly.

“Annie is getting ready to move,” he said.

“What did you say?” she asked, sharply.

“Beg your pardon?”

“What did you just say into your microphone thing?”

“I said you were getting ready to move,” he said.

“What did you call me?”

“Annie? That’s your code name.”

“I have a code name?” she squealed. “But why Annie?”

“It’s just for fun,” said the man, uncomfortably. “You know ... Annie Oakley? A lot of the guys are really impressed with you.”

“That’s awful,” she said. “I got four of your marshals killed, trying to protect me. I’d think you all hate me!”

“Ma’am, we know this is a dangerous job,” he said. “We do it voluntarily. And you didn’t just hide and cry during that gunfight. You fought back too. That says a lot about your character. We’re all honored to be protecting you.”

“Well, thank you,” she said, faintly.

“Please don’t tell anybody I told you, Ma’am,” he said. “I’m a junior deputy and I probably shouldn’t have said anything. We might get in trouble if the brass found out we call you that.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she said. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Ma’am,” he said. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go and we’ll get you there safe and sound.”

She turned around to see Bob slowly getting his shirt on.

“You don’t have to go,” she said. “Stay here and rest.”

“Didn’t you say we were checking out? Besides, I’d just as soon go with you,” he said. “If the US Marshals are calling you ‘Annie Oakley’, who knows how many men will be begging you to marry them. I need to be there to defend my turf.”

“So I’m your turf, now?”

“It’s better than it sounds,” he said.

“I’m sure it is. Okay. You can go. But you can’t chase me around the office, or grope me or anything like that. At work we must be professional.”

“Does that mean I have to wear underwear?” he asked.


Lacey worked for the United States Attorney for the Eastern district of New York. His name was Benjamin Frampton, though most of his AUSAs called him Benny inside the office. When Lacey got to work, Benny was in his office with another man she didn’t recognize. When he saw her he waved his hand in a circle, indicating she should come to his office.

“I wondered when you were going to grace us with your presence,” he said, when she went in his office. The other man stood and inspected her, interestedly.

“Sorry I took a few hours off after winning a major case,” she said, her voice flat.

Benny looked at the other man.

“What’d I tell you? She’s a ball buster. But she’s our ball buster, so we’re going to take good care of her.” He looked at Lacey. “This is Special Agent Harold Bookman, from the FBI. He is one of the few agents in these parts who hasn’t worked on some aspect of the Russians trying to kill you.”

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he returned. Benny kept talking.

“It seems that your star witness poked a hornet’s nest,” he said.

“Well, we knew Kolde was going to raise a stink,” she said.

“I’m not talking about Kolde. I’m talking about Ilsa Remmington. After her testimony, the NYPD and port authority decided to look into the alleged murder of Boris Antonovich.”

The agent spoke for the first time.

“When Vladimir killed him, the dumb bastards just wrapped chains around him and dumped his body there in the harbor, right there next to the ship they were trying to smuggle those women out on. Divers found the body ten minutes after they went into the water.”

“Good,” said Lacey. “Too bad New York can’t get their shit together on a death penalty,” she said.

“Which is one reason why the federal government is making an argument that Boruskiev should be tried for the murder in federal court,” said Benny. “We can execute him.”

“The state has primary jurisdiction in a case like this,” said Lacey.

“Yes,” said Deputy Bookman, “unless the crime occurred during the commission of a crime such as the kidnapping of a woman who was transported across state lines from New Jersey to New York.”

“You mean Janie Littleton,” said Lacey. Janie was one of her victims in the trial she’d just prosecuted.

“I do,” said Bookman.

Lacey frowned.

“That’s why the marshals are still with me. You’re going to assign this to me. Benny! That’s not fair. I almost got killed prosecuting the bastard the first time. And now you want me to take him to court on a capital case? All of Russia will probably fly over here to put me in the ground!”

“Now, now. Let’s not be overly dramatic,” said Benny. “You performed magnificently. You are going far in this job, Lacey. This will be just one more feather in your cap.”

“Yeah ... the cap they bury me in,” she snarled.

“Don’t worry. We’re not even going to announce anything yet. The investigation will take a while. If it looks promising, you can take it to a grand jury. If it jumps through all those hoops, we’ll continue this discussion then. I just wanted to give you a heads up. Until then the Marshal Service wants to protect you until Boruskiev is sentenced and firmly in a supermax somewhere. After that your boyfriend will keep you safe, until the marshals are needed again,” he said, grinning slyly. “And if it actually goes to trial you’re going to get an armored car. The Marshal Service wants this guy’s head on a pike, Lacey. His people killed four of their own. Nothing is too good for you, as far as they’re concerned.”

“Did you know they call you Annie Oakley?” asked Bookman.

“That’s supposed to be a secret,” she groaned.

“She knows,” said Bookman, leaning close to Benny and grinning.

“If that gets out to the press, you might as well take me off the case right now,” said Lacey. “That nickname has mistrial written all over it.”

“I’ll worry about that later. Now, go take some time off. You look like you’ve been shot and didn’t take enough time to heal up.”

He grinned at his clever comment.

Lacey flipped him the bird and then stomped out.


After leaving the office, Lacey told her driver that she wanted to move back home. Packing her and Bob’s bags didn’t take long, and they arrived at her brownstone at one-thirty that afternoon. A group of men were at work building something in the entryway. Marshals were supervising the work. It turned out that a bullet proof wall was being installed, with a high security door in it. There were windows in the wall, and the door was also clear lexan. Only she and Mr. Towner would have keys to it for now. The upstairs tenants would be allowed in by the guards so they could do laundry or access their storage cages. When the mission was over, they would be given keys to the new door as well.

The new plan was for two deputies to be on duty at all times behind this bullet proof wall when Lacey was home. Now, only Bob would be inside the apartment with her, but a deputy would be spelled by Bob when he needed to use the restroom, or was eating. Cameras had also been installed that gave the men a view of the approach to the house, and a short distance of the street in both directions.

“Isn’t this going to be pretty expensive, considering you might not need to protect me for more than a month or two?” she asked the marshal in charge of the construction project.

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