The Sheriff Pt 02

I had not intended for there to be a Part 2 with regard to the Sheriff, but I was in dire need of violent reprieve from myself. I almost cancelled after an early morning conversation with a friend, but Minx always trumps logic.

*

"The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame."

― Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat

I reached out to the Sheriff via LinkedIn which was our normal method of contact these days. No one suspects LinkedIn. I explained my need to him and he was more than willing to accommodate. We met at the Hyatt closer to my work to give us a little more time as I felt that would be necessary. He gave me the room number and I met him there. He was sitting on the desk chair rifling through his phone when I entered.

He wasn't working today which was disappointing. His clingy jeans and man-cardigan made up for the lack of uniform. At least he looked good and clean. I appreciate his height and strength immensely, especially when I need him in times like these.

He smiled when he saw me and scooted a duffle bag from under the desk. "I came prepared for you this time."

I greeted him with a smirk and an eye roll. "You're never prepared for me."

He got up from his chair and came towards me. His presence was commanding. He stood a solid 9 inches above me and my head fell about under his chin. He pulled my head into his chest and kissed the top. "We don't have much time, let's get started."

While I was smartly dressed today, I cannot say I put much effort into what I was wearing. Slacks and a blouse with a Peter Pan collar. He delicately unbuttoned my blouse and I closed my eyes. It was there that I let the remnants of the last week swim around my brain one last time. He pulled the blouse over my head and with it went every care I had in the world. In that moment, it was just the two of us and the fire was behind both of our eyes once again.

He peeled off my slacks and told me he was leaving my underwear on, (cute boy shorts by the way- had I known what the day would hold when I dressed I would have put on something remarkably less), so he could watch it get wet as we proceeded. Everyone has their thing. I happily obliged. Finally he unclasped my bra as he stood in front of me. I took that moment to open my eyes and inhale him deeply. He smelled like soap (I decided it was Zest as it made me think of aforementioned friend and that made me smile) and saliva. Not the bad scent of saliva, but you know that smell when you're just a little too close to someone and you can almost taste their kiss, it was that sort of smell.

He caught the smile on my face and decided that was the best opportunity for a kiss . I'll be honest, I was terrified. I hadn't ever kissed him and frankly a bad kiss can ruin an entire encounter. I have found women to be far superior at the task and men typically leave me slobber-faced and a with mouth full of tongue, but I was pleasantly surprised. One, two, three gentle kisses before his lips ever parted. I greeted his tongue with my own in brief strokes and felt a pool begin to form between my thighs. Finally.

He released me and in that moment I wondered what it would me like to love him. I decided to hold onto that fondness for him for as long as I could, even if that was only until I got into my car to return to work.

"Sit," he gestured toward the desk chair. I acquiesced. He rifled through his bag and pulled out his familiar handcuffs. Then, he pulled out a few surprises: his baton, some zip ties, a knife, two more pairs of handcuffs and two bandannas. He cuffed my hands behind me and attached me to the chair at the back as there were no arms. He did the same for each legs at the ankle (for the record, I have delicate ankles, not cankles). I couldn't move and I let the sensation of lost physical control wash over me as my wetness began to saturate my underwear.

My chest began to churn as he stood again before me. He wasn't the Sheriff anymore; he had become someone else entirely. "I am gagging you first," he said matter-of-factly. He balled up one bandanna and shoved it in my mouth. I coughed with surprise as it hit the back of my throat and he smiled. He tied the other bandanna around my mouth to keep it in place. "No blindfold today," he said. "I want you to see and feel everything."

With that he walked over to the desk drawer and searched for something. I am not sure what he was looking for, but he slammed the drawer shut when he didn't find it. The noise and his obvious frustration startled me. He made his way to the bed and opened the drawer of the nightstand. "This will have to do," he sighed and presented a leather-bound Bible.

I furrowed my brow and looked up at him confused. I think I saw his eye twitch a little, but before I had a moment to save that in my brain I felt the leather smack hard against the side of my face. He had almost knocked me over entirely. I choked out a yelp and winced in pain. When our eyes met again he said, "Don't ever question me. Not even with you eyes." I couldn't help but moan and let my eyes fall into the back of my head. I stopped thinking in that moment, and let myself go.

I felt the Bible on my lap and he pulled out his baton. The fist hit against my thighs was gentle enough. The Bible served as a tool to disburse the pain and weaken the force of each blow so as to not leave any marks presumably. Smart. That would have saved me a lot of trouble in years past. I couldn't help but chuckle at the fist impact and I watched as the rage filled his face. Perfect.

The second blow came from high above his head and when he struck down onto me I felt in throughout my body. I gasped and choked on the bandanna inside of my mouth, but it didn't slow him. He struck me there over and over again. I felt searing, painful relief shooting from my thighs to my slit. Sweat began to bead on my body and he took that as his cue for a break. I was panting.

He removed the Good Book from its resting place and inspected the damage: a rectangular welt that would dissipate in a matter of hours. Fucking brilliant. In the next moment he was on his knees spreading my sore thighs apart. "Fucking hell, Minx. You're soaked." he said. I laughed in my throat between gasps for air wanting to tell him that I warned him, but that moment never came. He kissed the welts on my thighs and each touch felt like the sting of a wasp against my skin. I tried to pull away from him, but I couldn't. He lingered with his lips against my skin for a moment and I felt him smile.

When he stood, he took the zip-ties in his hands. I know my face must have twisted with concern because he smiled wider. "I love it when you're afraid. Remember, you are mine."

He took out two very slender, very small zip-ties first. Those two found their way onto my nipples. I stiffed a scream when he tightened them. It was a different sensation than clamps, but the blissful pain they produced satisfied me so. (None of what transpired is my M.O., I simply had a unique need today),

He un-cuffed my hands and moved the chair to the end of the bed. He bent me over the bed with my ankles still attached to the chair. I sensed him sit in the chair behind me and felt a delicate, but sharp pain against the skin on the small of my back. He was tracing the lines of my tattoo with the tip of his knife. I gripped the comforter between my fingers and braced myself for whatever he intended next.

He slid the point of his knife across the space where band of my underwear and my skin met. The hairs on my skin stood on end as chills ran over my body and fire ran though my veins. I felt him tug and in one, two, three slices he had opened one side of my underwear. He followed suit with the other side. He pulled my underwear off with force from behind which felt like an Indian burn against the sensitive skin of my outer labia. I was squirming. I couldn't help it. I just wanted him inside of me, but that wasn't his intention. I felt something cool and hard against the space between my anus and my slit. Without warning he shoved the entirety of what I eventually realized was his baton, inside me. He didn't go slow, he didn't go shallow. I screamed and instinctively tried to get away. I don't know if I've ever had anything so deeply inside of me. I like firsts.

He stopped and got up. He stood beside the bed and pulled me up into a cobra pose by my hair. I know my eyes were wild and my chest was still heaving from the pain. "No," he whispered in my ear, "you will never escape me." and with that he forced my head into the mattress so I couldn't breathe. He re-cuffed me tightly. I heard him take off his belt as he held my head down. Violently, he took two hard wacks against my bare ass with the belt. He then looped the belt around the cuffs and stretched me as far as my body would allow. He buckled the belt to the headboard and took his place back in the chair behind me.

He pushed the baton back into me and I felt my wetness make its way down my clit. The Sheriff was a madman in that moment. He invaded me over and over again, hard, fast...so fast. I felt nothing, but ecstasy. So deep, so hard, there aren't words for that sensation. I felt him slow a little and he fumbled with something in one hand, but never faltered with the baton in the other. "You want pain?" he admonished. I whimpered in reply. "It is pain you will have, whore." I felt the baton come all the way out of me and briefly felt relieved, but in the next second it found another home inside of my ass.

Again I attempted a scream-an escape, but my attempts were in vain. Fortunately the baton was well lubricated and didn't have the girth of an average man, so while it was painful, it was also incredibly pleasurable. He pulled out most of the way and then entered my pussy with his cock and my ass with his baton. It felt like floating. There was nothing but silence around me and painful pleasure inside of me. I turned my face to the side and opened my eyes as he continued to desecrate both of my holes. I could see us in the mirror on the dresser. His head was aimed toward the heavens, visibly enjoying himself. The moment of slow motion passed when I felt both of his hands on my ass.

He had wedged the baton between the two of us in such a way that he was able to keep thrusting with his body a not need his hands. He clenched my ass cheeks and I began to shake violently. I am not sure what it was that came over me, but for the first time in my life, I felt naked.

He grunted loudly in time with his thrusts and finally commanded, "Take my seed, whore," and came. He fell back into the chair allowing the baton and his cock to slip out of me.

I laid there on my stomach as he gathered his composure. The moment of passion having passed, the reality of what had been done to my body began to settle in. I hurt, but it still felt good. He released me from the cuffs and pulled the ties from my nipples. I sat up and untied the bandanna myself, removing the one in my mouth along with it.

He went to speak, but I shook my head. He left and I finished myself on the bed before returning to work.

I can still feel him everywhere. That should get me to at least Monday.