Selling the Law

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

---

I wrote her information down on my pad and said, “Well, thank you for your time, ma’am.”

The elderly woman standing in her front doorway smiled and said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help, detective.”

I looked at her from my pad, smiled and said, “It’s okay, Ms. Forrester.  It seems no one in your neighbor saw or heard anything that day.  Thank you for your time.”

She closed her door and I walked off her porch and toward the street.  I’m a detective in the Burglary Unit of the Jacksonville Police Department, and I have spent the majority of the afternoon conducting a canvass relating to a burglary which occurred at a house on this street.  Nothing particular about it, and there’s not much follow up information.  This case will most likely be suspended until such time more evidence is discovered.  Unfortunately, this is how most burglaries end up.  This is also why all the new detectives in the agency cut their teeth in burglary.

I’ve been on the department for a little over five years, and I was assigned to Burglary a little over a month ago.  Though the cases are frustratingly difficult to solve, it’s still a great place to work.  I spend my afternoons going to the neighborhoods of cases I’ve been assigned and follow up with the victims and neighbors in person.  Just in case the patrol officers who wrote the initial reports missed anything.  So far, none of my extra canvassing has unearthed anything, but I won’t find undiscovered evidence by sitting behind my desk in the police station.

I check the street out one last time and figure the only house I have not visited was the one at the end of the cul-de-sac all by itself.  I jump into my unmarked police car and drive to the home that is pretty much sequestered from all the other homes on this block.  I get out of my car, with my legal pad in my hand, and I survey the property.

Unlike every other house in this neighborhood, the yard appears uncared for.  It’s not over grown, but it definitely needs some mowing and trimming.  The house itself is older, but nice.  It’s a pretty large home situated on a fairly large lot.  It’s a ranch-style with what appears to be an attached three-car garage.  The backyard has a six-foot privacy fence that ensures no one from the street can see into the back of the property.

I walk up the steps to the front door and ring the doorbell.  When I do not hear any chimes, I knock on the door.  After almost two full minutes go by without any noise or action, I turn around and start to descend the steps.  That’s when the front door opens and a large man steps out onto the porch.

“Can I help you, young man?” he asks.

I turn around and show him my badge and credentials.  “Good afternoon, sir, I’m Detective Michael Ryan with the Jacksonville Police Department’s Burglary Unit.  I was hoping I could ask you a couple questions.”

The man looked around somewhat nervously and said in a gruff voice, “I didn’t cause any trouble and I didn’t call the cops!”

I gave this man my most disarming smile and said, “Sir, you’re not in any trouble.  I’m investigating a burglary to your neighbor’s house a few days ago.”

He crossed his hairy arms across his big chest and said, “I didn’t steal no one’s shit!”

I sighed and shook my head.  “Sir, I’m not saying you did.  I’ve interviewed all the people who are home on this street to see if they noticed anything last Monday from 8 am to 6 pm.  Someone jumped your neighbor’s fence, kicked in the rear door, and stole some electronic and jewelry.  I’m just wondering if you happened to notice something out of the ordinary at that time.”

He slowly lowered his arms down to his side and blinked several times.  Then he smiled and shook his head.  “God damn, officer, I’m sorry I’m being such a jerk.  I get defensive sometimes and blow things way out of proportion.  I’m so sorry.”

He stuck his hand out as a peace offering.  I shook his hand.  “No problem, sir.”

I’m not a small man – 5’11” and 180 pounds – but my hand was swallowed up by his big paw.  He was a very large man.  I’m happy he decided to calm down, considering I was out here all alone.

When I released, he held on for a moment longer before letting go of my hand.  Then he asked, “This was this past Monday?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded.  “I didn’t see anything but I have a jam up camera system that not only points at my property, but also several of the cameras point to the street.  Maybe one of them picked up something.”

I checked my watch.  It was almost 4 pm, quitting time for me, so I said, “Can you download it and give me a copy?”

He shook his head.  “No, the system doesn’t allow for downloading, but if you want you can watch it and record any scene with your phone.”

“Can I come back tomorrow morning and check out the video?”

He sighed and replied, “You can but my system deletes everything 72 hours after it’s recorded, and tomorrow is Thursday…you might be cutting it close.”

I checked my watch again and sighed in frustration.  I just wanted to complete my supplement report and call it a day, but if this system had some evidence, I definitely did not want to lose the chance to recover some actionable intelligence.  And, I figured, if I watched the camera at faster speed, I could be done in an hour or so.  Not like I had anything else to do.

“If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll come in and watch the video,” I said.  “It shouldn’t take too long.”

The large man smiled, stepped back and held the front door open for me.  “Right this way, detective.”

He led me to a back room and I was shocked at the computer system he had set up.  It was massive with several large LED screens, at least five towers and a row of servers in the corner.

Noticing me eyeing his system, he said, “I’m a software designer.  Video games mostly.”

He started setting up the camera display, and when he was done, he stood up and directed me to the chair in front of the screen.  “It’s all yours.  Just use the mouse to control the speed.”

“Thank you,” I said as I sat in front of the display.

“Can I get you a drink,” he asked.  “Coke?  Water?  Something stronger?”

I chuckled.  “A water would be great, thanks.”

A few minutes later, he returned with an open bottle of cold water.  Not realizing how thirsty I was, I took a long pull and placed it on a coaster he had near the terminal.

I did not see anything so far but continued to speed through the saved video, when my eyes suddenly blurred.  I froze the video and rubbed my eyes.  I had no idea what brought that on, when a wave of dizziness swept over me.  I leaned back in the chair and tried to get up, but I stumbled and feel back onto the chair.

“You alright, young detective,” the man said from behind me.

I swung my head drunkenly toward his voice, and I saw him smiling at me from the doorway.  I glanced back at the open bottle of water that I had drank from and knew that he had drugged me!  I slowly rolled my head back toward the man, and he was leaning against the open door, his arms crossed over his chest and sporting a devilish smile.

“Ketamine,” he said.  “I put ketamine in your water.  Practically tasteless but it’s pretty damn effective.  Don’t you think, Detective Ryan?”

I tried to respond but only managed to open my mouth and grunt.  The man chuckled and slowly, deliberately, started walking toward me.  I knew I was in serious trouble.  It took a monumental effort, but I moved my right hand to the handgun on my hip and attempted to pull it out.

The man stopped in front of me and said, “Are you going to pull that out of the holster and use it?  If I were you, I’d definitely use the gun because you’re not going to like what I’m going to do to you.”

I could not make my hand grip the pistol and moaned in frustration.  The man chuckled again and reached toward my service weapon.  He nonchalantly plucked it from the holster on my hip and placed it in his waistband.  

“You won’t be needing this, young detective,” he said.

He then leaned me forward and pulled my handcuffs from the case in the small of my back.  He snapped one of the cuffs tightly around my right wrist, removed my watch from my left wrist and then secured the other cuff tightly.  With my hands secured behind my back, he pushed me back into the chair and opened a drawer to the desk I was sitting at.  He removed a rollof silver duct tape and knelt in front of me.  He placed my feet together and wrapped a liberal amount of the tape around my ankles.  When my ankles were bound tight, he pulled a strip off the role and placed it over my mouth.  He wrapped the tape around the lower portion of my head effectively gagging me.

He placed the tape on the desk, turned to me and said, “The ketamine will probably wear off in an hour and a half or so.  Therefore, I need to ensure you’re not going anywhere before I get back.”

He grabbed me under my armpits and easily lifted me out of the chair.  He placed me on the carpeted floor on my back with my cuffed hands under my body.  He pulled my gun fromhis waistband, bent down and placed it back in the holster on my right hip.  Then he stood up, pulled a cellphone from his jeans pocket and took several pictures of me from different angles.  Then he rolled me onto my stomach and took several more pictures before he removed the handgun again and shoved it back in his waistband.

“Need the gun in the pictures,” he said.  “you have your badge on your belt but the gun just makes people know that you’re really a cop when they see it.”

He squatted down next to me and removed my badge from my belt and took the two spare ammo magazines that were in a pouch on the left side of my waist.  The man had now removed all of my equipment.  He then searched the pockets in my khakis and took my wallet, cellphone and car keys.  My red polo had no pockets, but the man searched there to unsure I did not have anything hidden.  

Done with the thorough search, he looked into my watery eyes and said, “I’m going to take your car and leave it in a place very far from here.  Then, I’ll Uber back.  I should be back before the Special K wears off, but if I don’t, I want you to stay here as my guest.”

He grabbed my bound ankles and dragged me across the room, into the hallway and through an open door.  With the apparent high dose of ketamine in my system, I could not offer the slightest bit of resistance.  The room was bland from what I could see.  Probably a spare bedroom, and there was nothing on the walls.

The man said, “I think you’ll be more comfortable in here, Detective Ryan.  When I get back, I’ll explain what’s going to happen to you.  I know the suspense is driving you batty but trust me…it’s worth the wait.”

With that, he turned the lights off and walked out of the room.  I heard the door close and then heard a lock engaging.  I was bathed in darkness but could hear the man walking down the corridor.  In less than a minute, there was nothing but utter silence.  There was no light filtering in from under the door and no other ambient light illuminated my surroundings.  The only thing I could hear was the air conditioning quietly blowing through the vent on the ceiling directly above me.

I have no idea how long I was lying there but slowly my head began to clear.  I began to notice I could control my body a little and was able to roll onto my side.  I tried to yell for help but the gag ensured nothing but a weak, feeble mmmpphh.

After a while longer, I felt better and was able to bend my ankles back toward my handcuffed wrists.  I tried to tear the tape around my ankles but was unable to make a dent in it.  My captor had wrapped so much tape around my ankles that it was like iron.  I pulled at the cuffs and tried to squeeze one of my hands free, but they were ratchetted down too tight.

Knowing I was not getting free anytime soon, I looked around the room I was in currently. My eyes were no longer unfocused and my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it was still difficult to make out my surroundings.  

I laid there in the dark room for what seemed like hours when I heard the sound of someone walking along the hallway outside the door.  I heard the lock disengage and the door opened.  The lights popped on and I closed my eyes until I could let them adjust to the sudden brightness.

The man walked in and squatted next to my prone figure.  He still had my handgun in the front of his waistband and was holding a black gym bag in his left hand.  He dropped the bag on the floor next to me.

“Sorry I took so long, Detective Ryan,” he said.  “I took you police car to the address you had on your driver’s license and had to ensure no one was out and saw me.  After that I walked out of your neighborhood and called for an Uber.  I see that the ketamine has worn off.”

I could not reply or comment. I could only look at my captor with a mixture of fear and dread.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m doing this,” he said.  “I’ll explain in a few minutes.  First, I need to get you ready.”

Before I could even begin to think about what he meant, he rolled me onto my back and made me sit up.  He removed my shoes and then reached into the black bag and pulled out a pair of heavy-duty scissors.  He cut the duct tape around my ankles and pulled it free from my ankles.  He forced me to a standing position and turned me to face him.

With a firm grip on my right upper arm, he said, “Don’t get cute and don’t do anything you’ll regret.  Remember, I still have your gun and I won’t hesitate to use it on you.  Do I make myself abundantly clear?”

Knowing I was at a huge disadvantage, I simply nodded.

Without saying anything else, he unfastened my belt, undid the button and fly in my khakis and let them drop to the floor.  He then pulled my boxer briefs down as well.  He had me step out of the discarded clothing and then removed my socks.  He grabbed the scissors again and began cutting away at my polo.  Within a minute, my shirt was in tatters and I stood before him completely naked.

I looked around the room for the first time.  There was a king size bed with a wrought iron frame and black sheets against the wall.  The walls were painted black and there were no windows.  He guided me to the bed and had me sit on the side.  He pulled the bag closer to him and removed several coils of rope.  Without saying anything, he began binding my ankles.  When complete, he bound the area just below my knees.  When that was done, my legs were inescapably secured.  There was no give in the ropes and I was certain I would need those scissors or a knife to get free.

He said, “I like rope the best, but I’m going to keep the handcuffs on you.  It’s just so fucking hot that you’re handcuffed with you own cuffs!”

He used the scissors and cut away the tape that was gagging me.  Once the sticky band was removed, I flexed by jaw several times before saying, “Listen, mister, you don’t want to do this.  My co-workers will come looking for me and there’s no way you can get away with this.  You need to let me go right now.”

The man smiled and reached into the bag again.  He pulled out a bottle of water, opened it and put it against my lips.  “Thirsty?”

I was incredibly thirsty, but I was thinking about the last bottle of water I had from this man.  Almost reading my thoughts, he said, “It’s not drugged.  I don’t need to drug you right now.  I have you where I want you.”

He began to tip the bottle and I drank greedily until it was all gone.  Then he grabbed my dick and made me pee in the bottle.  When I was done, he put the cap back on the bottle and dropped it in his bag.  He grabbed my socks from the floor and held them to my mouth.

“Open up, Detective Ryan.”

“What the hell are you doing…”

He shoved the socks into my mouth and crammed them in to where they filled my mouth completely.  He then grabbed the duct tape and reapplied the gag.  The socks added much to the gag and I could hardly utter a sound other than a muffled grunt.  He picked up all his items, placed them in the bag and retrievedmy clothes.  He stepped out of the room for a minute and then returned.

Standing at the foot of the bed, my gun still visible in his waistband, he said, “Detective Ryan, what you said to me was not true.  I will get away with this and your co-workers will not find you.  Trust me.  This isn’t the first time I’ve done this.  They may come over to the neighborhood, knowing this was one of the last places you were seen, but they will not find you.”

I pulled at my handcuffs and that only reinforced what I already knew.  I was not getting free without a key.

“Your police car is parked in your driveway,” he continued.  “Your keys, phone and wallet are disposed of in a storm drain in your neighborhood.  No one knows you were at my house and if the police come here, they’ll only ask if I saw you.  To which, I will say no.”

My legs were tied so tight my toes were starting to get numb.  No way I was going to wiggle free anytime soon.

“This is what is going to happen to you,” he said.  “Remember those pictures I took of you while you were drugged on the floor in my computer room?  Well, I’ve posted those on a dark website that appeals to a certain type of people.  I’m sure you realize that you are a very attractive man.  Young – 28 if I remember your driver license – handsome, in great shape with an athletic body.  I’m going to offer you to clients on this site.  For a substantial fee, they can do whatever they want to you.”

My eyes involuntarily flew wide open and I struggled to free myself.

The man chuckled.  “Save your strength, Detective Ryan.  You’re not getting loose.  Like I said, I’ve done this many times before.  You will not get out of this room unless I allow you to leave.  Now, you might as well rest because you’re gonna be real busy real soon.  I looked at those pictures and you looked so hot.  A young, hot, stud cop, cuffed with his own cuffs and waiting to be used.”

I yelled into the gag, but he ignored me as he turned and walked out of the room.  He turned the lights off before he closed and locked the door.  I continued to struggle but my efforts were wasted.  I tried to get the ropes off my legs but the knots were in the front and I couldn’t reach them.  After a long period of struggling, I must have passed out or fallen asleep.

I woke to the door opening and the lights coming on.  The man walked in and smiled down at me.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself, Detective Ryan.  You are a hit.  I’ve gotten so many responses to my posts, and someone is coming over soon.  Should be here within the hour.”

I again pulled frantically at my restraints but to no avail.

He climbed on the bed and pulled a piece of rope from his back pocket.  He bent my feet toward my rump, and quickly and expertly put me in a restrictive hogtie.  He climbed off the bed and admired his work.

“I was asked to have you hogtied,” he said.  “It won’t be long now.”

After he left, I tried to get free but realized quickly that I was not going to get loose.  I laid there on the bed for what seemed like an hour at least.  Finally, the door opened again and the man walked in with an older gentleman.

“Here he is,” the man said.  “As advertised.”

The older gentleman had my credentials in his hand and kept looking from my police ID to me on the bed.  “This is definitely him but how do I know these aren’t fake?  How do I know he’s a real cop?”

The big man chuckled.  “Call 911 and ask if he’s real, for all I care.  I already have half of your money wired into my account.  If you want the hour alone with him, wire the other half or get the fuck out.  You’re choice.  I don’t care.”

The older guy handed my captor my badge and ID without looking at him and said, “It’s a deal.”

Then he pulled out his cellphone and made a few swipes.  The big man pulled out his phone and smiled.

“Transaction complete,” he said with a smile.  “You have one hour.  Remember, no permanent damage.  You break him, you buy him.”

The older man walked purposefully toward the bed and muttered, “No problem.”

“Enjoy yourself, Detective Ryan,” the big man said as he exited the room and closed the door.

The older man stopped at the side of the bed closest to me and just stared longingly down at me.  After several minutes, he removed two items from his trouser pocket – a plastic freezer bag and a small bottle of baby oil – and placed them on the bed next to me.  Then he slowly got undressed.  He let all his clothing drop to the floor except for his belt which he placed next to the bag and baby oil.  Once he was completely naked, he picked up the oil and coated his entire body in a liberal amount.  His skin was glowing from the sheen the oil made with the overhead lighting as he climbed onto the bed with me.

I was struggling with my bonds but to no avail.  After the older man explored my hogtied, naked body with his oily hands. He untied the rope that held the hogtie and my bound ankles fell to the mattress. The man climbed on me and tenderly rubbed me all over.  His actions were transferring the oil onto my body as well as his, and I quickly became just as slippery as he was at the moment.  He spooned me from behind and I could feel his erect cock against my tightly cuffed hands.

Then he maneuvered his member to the crack of my ass and lightly thrust it between my cheeks.  I tried to buck but his weight prevented me from moving much.

The guy then, in a swift motion, grabbed the plastic freezer bag, pulled it over my head and tightened it around my neck.  As the air in the bag quickly dissipated and the bag was pulled tightly across my face, I struggled to get air.  That’s when the guy entered me from behind.

As I struggled, he rhythmically thrusted.  As darkness closed in and I quickly began to lose consciousness, his thrusts became more violent.  As I lost consciousness, I finally heard him utter a sound – a guttural grunt that sounded more animal than human.

I regained consciousness as the socks were removed from my mouth.  My vision was slowly clearing and I could feel something looped around my neck and then pulled tight.  I was dragged by my neck forcibly and saw the man pulling me toward him.  He was off the bed and standing on the side.  He was using his belt as a lasso and dragged me toward him violently.

When I reached the edge of the bed, he forced his still hard dick into my open mouth and finally loosened the belt allowing me to breathe.  He began to thrust his cock in and out of my mouth, while he tightened and loosened the belt.  Finally, after what felt like hours, he blew a load in my mouth.  He pulled free of me and tightened the belt again.  This time he did not loosen it and I quickly lost consciousness again.

When I woke, I was still on the bed but the older guy – my rapist! – was no longer there.  I was hogtied once again, Apparently, while I was unconscious, the older rapist reapplied the hogtie.  The gag had been reapplied – the socks and duct tape I assumed – and I was alone.  Unfortunately, I was not alone for long.

My captor entered the room and said, “I have to position you for your next date, Detective Ryan.”

He removed the rope that adhered my bound ankles to my cuffed wrists.  While he did this, he said, “That guy took a bunch of pictures of you when you were unconscious.  He loved the look of you hogtied.  I got a few of them and posted them on my site, and the response has been nothing short of magnificent.  You’re going to make me a boat load of money, Detective Ryan.”

He pulled a handcuff key from his pocket and removed my service weapon from his waistline.  He walked to the side of the bed and said, “I’m going to uncuff one of your wrists.  When I do that, you will do exactly what I say or I will end your life.  Do I make myself clear?”

Looking at the Glock 17 that had been on my right hip several hours ago and was now in my captor’s right hand, I nodded.

He smirked as he unlocked the cuff around my right wrist and then stepped back while pointing the pistol at me.

“Now, lie on your stomach and face the head of the bed.”

I slowly did as instructed.  It was very difficult with my legs bound and my arms and shoulders were tight and knotted.

When I was in the position he had ordered me into, the man said, “Now cuff yourself to the headboard.”

I looped the empty cuff around the center iron rod of headboard and then reapplied the cuff around my right wrist.

The man placed my handgun back in his waistband and inspected the handcuffs.  When he saw they were indeed tight enough to ensure my wrist would not be able to slip free, he began untying my ankles.  When they were freed, he untied the rope just below my knees.  When my legs were free for the first time in what seemed like days, he turned and walked out of the room.  He returned quickly with two black leather ankle cuff and applied them to my legs.  Then, using the rope that had been around my ankles and calves, he tied my legs to the opposite corners of the footboard.

“Your next client requested this position,” he said as he walked out of the room.  “He should be here shortly.”

I tried to pull the wrought iron rod that I was cuffed to loose, but it was apparently well made and very solid.  Within 30 minutes, he reentered the room with a large, dark complected man with tattoos all over his body and a shaved head.  This guy had ex-con and white supremist written all over him.  He inspected me and my credentials before completing the transaction.

My captor left after issuing a warning not to damage the goods too badly and closed the door.  The big skinhead pulled a backpack off and dropped it to the floor next to the bed.  He just looked at me for several minutes before picking up the backpack, placing it on the bed and opening the top zipper.  He reached in and retrieved a pair of trauma shears, and he began to cut away the duct tape that secured my gag.  Once the tape was cut away, he pulled it off painfully and then pulled the socks from my mouth.

“You need to help me get free,” I stammered.  “This guy is going to…”

But before I could finish my statement, the skinhead forced my head into the pillow my head was resting on and I could not breathe.  The guy leaned into my ear and hissed, “I don’t want to hear you say a fucking thing, pig!  Unless you are begging me to stop!”

He released his hold on the back of my head and I could breathe again once I lifted my head upward,

“And I want you to beg me to stop,” he said as he pulled rope from his pack.

He inspected the rope and leather ankle cuffs which secured my legs to the far ends of the foot of the bed.  He adjusted the ropes and made sure I was pulled taut and could hardly move.  This caused my wrists to burn from the pressure from the handcuffs being pulled rigid.  He then stripped and straddled me from behind.

“You’re all oily and slippery,” he grunted.  “No worries but I was hoping to take you painfully and dry.”

“Dude, please don’t do this,” I begged.  “Call 911 and tell them…”

He struck the side of my head with an open-handed slap that rung my bell.

“Shut the fuck up, cop!” he screamed.

For the next hour, the ex-con forcibly rapped by ass.  The only time he took a break was to climb up to the head of the bed and stick his nasty, hard cock in my mouth to “clean it off” as he so put it.  He repeatedly reigned down open-handed blows to the side of my head during the session.  When he was mercifully complete, he left me barely conscious and my ass was on fire.

When he left, I passed out.  I awoke when my captor returned with what appeared to be steel ankle cuffs and a roll of silver duct tape.  He placed the shackles and tape on the bed and unsecured my ankles from the leather cuffs.  Next, he snapped the cuffs around my ankles.  These metal shackles had a two-foot chain between the ankle restraints.  He then removed the handcuff key from his pants pocket and the Glock from his waistband.

“Good morning, Detective Ryan.  I hope you slept well last night.  I’m going to let you uncuff yourself from the headboard,” he stated.  “Again, nothing stupid.  This room is soundproofed.  No one in the neighborhood will hear the gunshots.”

I had no idea that I had slept through the night, but I believed every word that he said and nodded my head drunkenly.  “I won’t try anything.”

He smiled at me as he placed the cuff key in my left hand.  It took me a while to get the cuff around my right wrist unlocked.  Apparently the beating the ex-con dished outyesterday left me a little concussed.

The man stepped back and said, “Sit on the edge of the bed.”

I slowly complied.  I thought of launching myself at him but quickly realized that would be a suicidal attempt to free myself.  When I was situated where he ordered me to be, I looked into his cold eyes.

Still pointing the 9mm at me, he said, “Secure the cuff around your free wrist in front of your body.”

I did as instructed and my wrists were now secured in front for the first time since my ordeal had begun.  The man motioned toward the open doorway with my pistol and said, “This way.”

I stood up gingerly on legs that were so stiff and sore, that I thought I would collapse.  It took me a moment to be able to walk without the fear of falling flat on my face.  The leg shackles allowed me to walk but not at a normal gate.  I slowly shuffled out of the black room and into the hallway.  My captor was several steps behind me with the semi-automatic pointed at my back.

He directed me to a bathroom and told me to use the toilet.  When that was complete, he ordered me to the sink where he told me to shave my face and brush my teeth.  Several minutes later I was done with that task, and he motioned toward a dixie cup on the counter.  In it were four white pills and a blue one.  I did not ask for clarification and poured the pills in my mouth and swallowed them with a handful of tap water.

He said, “Thank you for not asking any stupid questions, Detective Ryan.  But just so you know, the white pills were Motrin and the blue one was Viagra.  I figured you were sore from yesterday and your morning clients wants you hard as a rock.”

I just nodded my head figuring there was not much for me to say.  The man, who never left the doorway and never pointed the gun away from my body, ordered me to take a shower.

I climbed into the shower and had one of the most glorious showers I have ever had in my life.  The hot water felt incredible.  I washed my hair with the shampoo that was provided, and I spent at least half an hour scrubbing my body with a bar of soap.  It was as if I thought I could scrub away all the vial actions that had been forced upon me.

Once I was complete with the shower, the man tossed me a towel.  After I was dried off, he marched me back to the bedroom that had become my cell.  He ordered me onto the bed and tossed me the handcuff key.  He ordered me to unlock one of the wrist cuffs and lay back on the bed.  Next, he had me secure my wrists to the iron headboard again, but this time on my back.  Once I was secured, the man inspected the cuffs and took the key out of my hand.  He unlocked one of the ankle cuffs, pulled the cuff and chain through the center iron bar at the foot of the bed and locked the shackle around my free ankle.  Then he pocketed the key, placed the gun in his waistband and grabbed the roll of tape.  He pulled off a strip and placed it across my mouth.  He repeated the process two more times ensuring I could not talk or yell.  I had to admit, it was nice not having my socks jammed in my mouth for once.

He sat on the edge of the bed, smiled and said, “I have a great surprise for you this morning.  Afterward, I will let you eat and use the restroom again.”

Stupidly, I tried to plead with him to let me go, but just smiled and shook his head as if he knew what my muffled grunting was meant to voice.

“Save your breath, Detective Ryan,” he said.  “This is what I do.  I don’t care about you.  I only care about the money you can make me, but I promise that you will love the surprise I have in store for you this morning.”

He looked at his watch.  “Within the hour, so relax.”

He got up and walked out, slamming the door and bolting it locked as he left.  I pulled at the steel restraints around my wrists and ankles but halfheartedly because I knew it was a pointless gesture.  There was no getting free without help or the key.

Approximately an hour later, the locks on the door disengaged and swung open.  A woman entered the room and slowly closed the door behind her.  She walked up to the bed and looked down on me.  I was shocked beyond words once it hit me.  Not that a woman was here, but rather that this particular woman was here!  I knew her!  My neighbor, Barbara Pendley!

Barbara, or Barb as everyone called her, was my next-door neighbor.  Her and her husband, Kevin, had been my neighbors since I bought my house two years ago.  They were both a little older, early forties I surmised, but both seemed fun loving and were great neighbors.  Barb was a free spirit and was always in the yard taking care of the landscaping.  She was a beautiful woman and was always dressed in some type of workout clothes.  Now was no different.  She was in a black spandex tank top and matching Lulu Lemon yoga pants.

I did not even realize but I was yelling into my gag – telling her to get me free, to call 911, to help me, to watch out because my captor would be back shortly…

Then it hit me.

Barb was my next client.

She smiled a weary grin as she climbed on the bed and straddled by chest.  She removed the duct tape from my mouth, and before I could say anything, she kissed me deeply and passionately.  As her kiss consumed me and her tongue invaded my mouth with a ferocity I have never experienced with any kiss, she began grinding her yoga pants clad pussy on my chest.  The kiss and grinding went on for several minutes, and when she started panting as if she was close to climax, she pulled slowly away.  She bit my lower lip and pulled it painfully for the briefest of seconds before releasing it as she leaned upward.

“Michael,” she panted in a breathy voice, “I’m so sorry we are getting together like this…”

“Barb,” I said, as I could taste blood on my lip where she had bitten me, “you’ve got to call 911 and help me!  This guy is crazy and he’s…”

She covered my mouth with her hand and shushed me silent.

“I’ve wanted you since the day you moved in,” she said in that husky voice that was sexy as hell, “but you never seemed to get my hints.”

I tried to talk through her hand gag, but she only pressed her hand harder down on to my mouth.

“I saw you online last night,” she whispered, “and I knew it was you and that I had to take advantage of this most amazing opportunity.”

She removed her hand and kissed me savagely again.  She slid her body down and was now grinding her sex on my engorged dick – it appears the Viagra worked well.  She hurriedly removed her tank top, kicked off her sneakers and shimmied out of her yoga pants.  Once naked, she pulled away and looked into my eyes with a predatory glare that literally scared me and forced my breath to catch in my throat.

“Eat my sopping wet pussy, Michael,” she breathed as she slid up my body and planted her dripping sex on my face.  She grounded hard against my mouth as I completely forgot about my predicament and just let animal lust take over.  Barb was moaning and then suddenly screamed in climax as she gushed all over my face.

She was panting in exertion and she slid down my body, leaving a wet, viscus trail from my mouth to my pelvis, and mounted my throbbing cock.  She ground hard and slow and kept me from cumming.  I pulled hard against my restraints, and that pain from the steel added to the sensations I was receiving.

Then, the door opened.  I glanced up and saw Kevin – Barb’s husband!!! – walk in.  He shut the door and started undressing as he walked toward the bed.

Barb smiled that predatory grin again.  “I should have said, you didn’t get our hints we were throwing your way, Michael.”

I could not say a word.  Between the sex, the situation and my mind on total animal instincts at this particular moment, I just stared at Kevin slacked-jawed as he stripped naked and climbed onto the bed.  He straddled my chest, pulled my head upward and rammed his huge hard crank into my mouth.

I tried not to gag as he fucked my face, and I tried not to cum as Barb bounced up and down on my dick like the Energizer Bunny on meth!  The session was a blur from that point on.  I came, hard, twice.  Kevin came three times and never stopped his assault on my mouth until he was as limp as string of cooked spaghetti.  Barb came so many times I lost count after her seventh.  The session ended with Kevin cuddling my secured form on my right side.  Barb went down on me, got me to just past half-mast and made me cum again, before she cuddled with me on my left.  They played with me and each other until there was a gentle tapping at the door.  Then the door opened slightly, and the man poked his head in the room.

“Times up,” my captor said.

Without a word, they both looked at each other.  Kevin tenderly rubbed my cheek before he got up and started to dress.  Barb rolled onto me and kissed me again with intense passion.  When she slowly pulled her mouth from mine, and stared into my eyes as our noses touched, she whispered, “If you get free of this situation, come over anytime for more of this.  It was incredible.”

She kissed me angrily again and was gone.  Grabbing her clothing and prancing out the open door naked.

I watched them go wordlessly and then noticed that my captor standing next to me.  He ripped tape off the roll in his hand and placed several strips over my mouth.  

He looked down at me and said, “I’ll be back shortly for chow and a restroom break.”

He walked out and started to close the door, but paused, looked back toward me and said, “You’re welcome.”

The door slammed shut and the locks were engaged.  I leaned my head back into the sweat dampened pillow, enveloped by the afterglow of what was, with a doubt, the most intense sexual experience of my life.  I had never had any type of sexual encounter with a man until I was raped twice the day before, and both of those incidents repulsed me beyond words.  What had just happened to me was worlds apart from those two situations.  Technically, it was still a rape…at least until I became a willing participant, but I would be lying if I did not say that I enjoyed every bit of that experience.

I find it almost embarrassing that my feeling about the romp I had with the Pendleys had completely clouded my thinking of my current situation, until my captor walked into the room.

“Change of plans,” he said.  “You’ll have to wait on food and a bathroom trip.  The next client will be here very shortly.  Unfortunately for you, Detective Ryan, this will not be as enjoyable as your last session, but I’m getting paid double.  So, that’s a win in my book.”

He pulled a syringe out of his pocket, popped off the cap and planted the needle in the vein in the elbow of my secured right arm.  I was taken by complete surprise and hardly flinched until he had depressed the plunger and emptied the syringe’s content into my body.  Almost immediately, my ears began to ring and I felt very lightheaded.

“It’s fentanyl, young detective,” he said with a grin and a cock of his head.  “I had to Google the dosage, because I’m not ready for my cash cow to be led to slaughter…at least not just yet.”

The opioid, that was fifty times more potent that heroin, went to work quickly.  Within a few minutes I was as high as a kite and floating in a drug induced state of euphoria.  The man unlocked the cuffs around my wrists and ankles, and then he took the restraints and left the room.  I knew this was my chance to attempt an escape, but I was unable to make my body do what I wanted it to do.  I wanted to get up and try to get out of the room, but, like when I was drugged with the ketamine yesterday,all I could do was lie there and moan into the duct tape gag over my mouth.

He returned with coils of rope and bound me in a way I had not been secured since my kidnapping.  My wrists and elbows were bound behind my back.  Rope encircled my chest and waist which lashed my bound arms directly against to my back.  Rope was tightly wound around my ankles, calves, below my knees and my thighs.  Then he put me in another hogtie that went from the cinch between my ankles to the cinch between my bound elbows.  If I was not so damn high, I’m sure the position would have caused excruciating pain, but I could hardly feel any discomfort.

As he bound me exceedingly tight, he talked to me.  He told me how the next client wanted me bound in this fashion but incapacitated to the point that when I was slowly untied, I could not resist what would be done to me, hence the fentanyl.  I was told that he did not know exactly what the client had in plan butwas told it would not be pleasant.  The last thing he did before he left the room was to place a nylon hood over my head which had padding over where my eyes were.  The hood clung skin-tight to my face and ensured that I could not see anything.

No idea how long I was in this position before I heard my captor talking to someone.  He was saying that the client had been exceedingly late, but he also ensured the person that I was effectively drugged and would not be able to resist.  I'm assuming they completed the transaction, because the door slammed shut and the client was at my side tenderly caressing my bound and contorted body.

“Yeah, you’ll work,” he said in a whiney voice.  “And that I get to do this to a fucking cop –after what you people have done to me! – is just icing on the cake.”

The hood was slowly and dramatically pulled off and my half-closed eyes took in my latest client.  He was a little man – no taller than 5’6” and thin, with a widow’s peak and thick glasses.  He was already naked and pre-cum glistened from the head of his already erect penis.

He reached down and picked up what appeared to be a leather jacket and pulled a hunting knife that was hidden in the lining.  “I was told no weapons, and I could not damage you to the point you could not be used, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to help myself!”

I moaned lazily into the duct tape over my mouth.

The client smiled and climbed onto the bed, placing the knife on the mattress next to my face.  He yanked the tape off my mouth and maneuvered my head into a position where he could stick his dripping cock in my mouth.  For a time, he quickly thrust in and out of my mouth which was agape.  Next, he untied the rope which connected the hogtie, and my legs fell to the mattress.  He climbed on my back, forced my hands around his engorged cock and slowly forced my bound hands to jerk him off.

As he thrusted, he said, “You fucking cops, always fucking with me, but now I get to fuck one of you!”

He angled his dick to where the head was sliding through my hands and into the crack of my clinched ass cheeks.

“Just because I’m sexually attracted to young boys,” he grunted as he continued to fuck my hands and ass cheeks.  “You fuckers call me a pedophile, but I’m just a minor attracted person!  This is how God made me!  He wants me to give the tender love to children that their parents refuse to give them!  The loving that they need!”

I could tell that this sick fuck was getting excited.  He tried to enter my ass, but all the ropes around my legs had clinched my fanny up as tight as possible.  He grunted in utter frustration and pulled away.  He started to untie the ropes around my thighs, but when he found the knots too tight to easily untie, he grabbed the hunting knife and cut that rope away angrily.

He tried again to enter my ass, but my bottom was still clinched too tight for him to force his way in.  Cursing he cut away the ropes just below my knees and my calves, leaving only my ankles secured.  He mounted me again, frustration evident in the guttural sounds he was making and repeated curses that would have made a seasoned police officer blush.  My hands apparently got in his way and he tried to move them to the side, but the ropes around my waist prevent that maneuver.  

He yelled in exasperation and cut away the ropes around my waist, my chest and around my elbows.  I noticed two things at this point.  One, only my wrists and ankles were bound with rope now.  Two, he had cut my elbow when he frantically cut away the rope.  The cut was not bad, but it stung like hell, and that was the first bit of pain I had felt since my captor had injected the fentanyl into my bloodstream.  

The pervert was in full lust mode now.  He wrenched my ass cheeks apart and violently entered me.  He thrusted angrily and was screaming in such a way that I could not believe he was actually enjoying himself.  The sounds that emanated from this pedophile should have been the sounds I was making as he was doing this to me.  My ass was on fire from the repeated assaults the day before, and this guy was only adding fuel to that fire.  Every thrust was agony, and I was feeling it.  That’s when I started to realize that the fentanyl might be wearing off.

As he fucked my asshole, I slowly started to move my hands and feet.  My mind waded through the haze of the drug and remembered my captor had said something about this guy being late to this appointment.  I had no idea how long it had been since the drug was injected into my arm, but I was sure the fentanyl was definitely wearing off!

It took my latest rapist a good long while, but he finally released deep inside my very sore ass.  He collapsed on top of me and stayed there until he softened and squirted out of my rear.

He rolled me over onto my back and straddled me by sitting across my pelvis.  He picked up the knife and toyed with it in his hands.  Staring at it like it was an ancient relic he had unearthed during an archeological dig.

“Your buddy told me that if I break you, I buy you,” he said in that annoying, high-pitched nasally voice, “but what’s he gonna do?  Call the cops on me?”

He lifted the knife in both hands over his head slowly.  I knew he was about to plunge the knife into my chest.  With the fentanyl very much depleted in my system, and adrenalin now surging into my body, I sat upright like I was doing a sit up.  I lowered my chin to my chest and connected the crown of my head into my rapist’s nose and eyeglasses.

I heard a satisfying crunch as the glasses broke and the nose flattened and detonated across his face.  He screamed again as he toppled backward and went off the foot of the bed.  I scooted toward the foot of the bed, as he drunkenly stood up with the knife still in his hand and blood pouring down his ruined face.

I leaned onto my back and kicked my bound ankles out at the small man who was still planning on stabbing me.  My heels connected with his jaw.  His head snapped back and he crumbled to the carpeted floor.

I sat up as quickly as I could and looked over the foot of the bed.  The little man was out cold.  I rolled unsteadily off the bed, hopped around to where he lay and sat down next to him.  I grabbed the knife, flipped it around clumsily in my hands and started to cut away the ropes binding my wrists.  Quickly, the sharp blade sliced through the cord and my wrists were free.  I cut away the rope around my ankles and was finally free of the bondage I had been in since sometime yesterday afternoon.

I grabbed the knife and stood up.  Still unsteady on my feet because of the drug in my system and because I had been bound for almost 24 hours, I got to the door just as a light rap echoed and the door started to slowly open.

“Times up,” my captor was saying as he entered the room.

I had the knife in my right hand and instinctively punched out, using the hilt of the blade like a roll of quarters in my hand.  My fist impacted with the man’s nose and upper jaw.  The nose flattened, blood squirted down his face and teeth shattered.  He was thrown back into the open door and instinctively covered his ruined face with his hands.  

I spied my Glock, still in the front waistband of his jeans.  I grabbed the handle of my service weapon with my left hand and plucked it from his possession.  While the big man was still dazed from my surprise attack, I pushed him into the room.  He collapsed to his knees and looked my way, as I stepped out of the room, closed the door shut behind me and engaged the several deadbolt locks.

I stepped back against the far wall opposite from the secured door that had been my prison cell and slid to the hallway floor.  I dopped the knife and gun to the hardwood floor as the shakes overtook me hands.  I stayed there until my head cleared and the shaking subsided.  The man tried to reason with me from the other side of the door, but I paid him no attention.  When I felt like I could walk, I stood up and went to find a phone.

Several hours later, I was leaving Baptist Hospital in the passenger seat of my lieutenant’s unmarked Ford Explorer.  I was dressed in a police t-shirt and some jogging shorts someone had given to me upon their arrival at the house I had been held captive.  I gave a brief statement at the scene before being transported to the emergency room, where they ran every test imaginable.  I was subject to a rape kit to collect DNA evidence from all my orifices and I was put on PEP medications in case one of my assaulters was HIV positive.  I was told other than soreness, I was extremely lucky to be as heathy as I currently was.  They allowed me to shower after the rape kits were completed.

My lieutenant filled me in on the investigation that was unfolding.  My captor, Mr. Taylor Emerson, and my last rapist, Bernard Taft, were both arrested and currently being interviewed.  Mr. Emerson’s claims about doing what he did to me all the time, rang true.  Computer records showed that he might have abducted up to twenty other people in the past, prostituted them out and sold them to the highest bidder.

Taft was a three-time convicted child molester who was looking at life for the sexual assault on me.  The two rapists from yesterday were still unidentified, but my lieutenant said they hoped computer and cell phone records would help in their identification.  I was given a mountain of paperwork on physical and mental well-being, put on administrative leave until I was cleared by the department shrink and told to contact anyone if I needed something.

I had to shoo the lieutenant away.  Promising him I would call if I needed anything.  I watched him drive away down my street.

I never mentioned my neighbors, the Pendleys.  I really do not know why I kept that to myself.  But as I stood on my porch, looking at my neighbors’ house, I realize I would have to come clean.  I had to tell them about what had happened.

Without any hesitation, I walked to the front door of the Barb and Kevin Pendley and rang the doorbell, hoping like hell that they were home.