Missing Person 1

Missing Person

I'd received the phone call about half an hour ago. And sure enough, spot on time, she'd turned up. I sat in my patrol car parked opposite an expensive block of flats. The middle aged woman arrived with a much younger man. They stopped at the entrance. She gave him a long, passionate kiss before opening the door, then, hand on his bottom, she'd pushed him inside.

Brazen, wanton, she didn't give a fuck. I made some notes in my notebook. More evidence. She wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Second time this week. She'd pay dearly for this. I pulled away from the kerb and turned on the siren, briefly, just for a few seconds. I wanted her to know, to know I knew, to know I'd been there.... watching.

The whole situation had developed several months ago. I'm a twenty-seven year old police sergeant and I work in a busy London district. I'd been asked by the control room to allocate a call that had come in. A woman wanted to report her mother missing. All my officers were busy. It was a run of the mill job and so, rather than allocate it, I said I'd deal with it, it would get me out of the office.

'Thanks, sarge,' said the controller and left it with me.

I looked up the call on a computer:

Informant: Mrs Claire Carter, 25, Beauvoir Gardens NW1.

Text: Concerned for welfare and whereabouts of 48 year old mother, Simone Firle. Hasn't been seen for several weeks. Unusual not to let her daughter know of her whereabouts, no details of neighbours, has checked with friends...........

There were a few more insignificant details.

I sat listening to an attractive woman in her mid twenties telling me about her missing mother. The husband sat passively and nodded. She struck me as a little neurotic.

'... It's been going on for a while now officer, ever since my father died a couple of years ago, but it's been getting worse recently. We never seem to know where she is...She's been missing for two weeks now. I'm getting concerned.'

I asked what enquiries they'd made, whether they'd checked with friends and relatives. They had, although they had limited information about the mother's social life. I took a report and left the place promising to keep them updated. There was nothing to suggest that the mother had come to any harm, it seemed to be a case, oddly enough, of an overprotective daughter. Still, you never knew...

I decided to visit the mother's address, make a few local enquiries then pass the report on to one of my officers. I didn't mind helping out but I didn't want to get tied up with this sort of crap for longer than necessary.

The missing mother lived in a very smart block of flats, top floor, penthouse. She must have some cash. Not expecting a reply, I knocked on her door whilst deciding which of the neighbours to make enquiries with first. The door was pulled open, forcefully, and a woman's voice, sharp with rebuke, hissed:

'You're late!'

I was surprised. The woman looked shocked. I was obviously not who she'd expected. Instinctively, the lady put a hand up to cover her breasts. Her daughter had painted me an entirely different picture. She was not as I'd expected.

Before me stood a woman I knew must be in her late forties but could have passed for late thirties. And she was fit. Ash blonde, shoulder length hair, blue eyes. She wore a red, silk robe, but not much underneath. I dared not look too hard and tried to keep my eyes directed towards her face. I always try to be professional.

'Mrs Firle?'

'Yes?'

Her voice had softened.

'My name's Sergeant Franks, I'm sorry to trouble you, your daughter was concerned, she said she hasn't seen you for a couple of weeks. She was worried something might have happened to you.'

The lady broke into a smile.

'Oh do come in sergeant, I'm sorry if I startled you I was expecting someone else, should've turned up ages ago.'

She shut the door behind me then led me through to a lounge. I followed her, mesmerised. She was wearing spiked heeled, thigh length, black leather boots that came up almost to the cheeks of her bottom. The red, silk gown was tied loosely at the waist. She didn't appear to be wearing anything else; although I thought I could see the trace of a thong outlined by the thin silk. She showed me to a sofa, then sat opposite in an armchair, crossed her legs and sat back, relaxed and totally unconcerned. My eyes were drawn to an area of flesh between the top of her boot and her robe, exposed as she'd crossed her legs. I looked back up to her face. She was watching me, amused.

'Do you like my boots?'

'Yes, they're very... pretty,' I said.

'Pretty?' She laughed. 'I've not heard them described that way before.'

I felt a little sheepish.

'Mrs Firle, you're obviously fine, I'll let your daughter know... she gave me the impression that you were... ' I struggled to find the right word, the lady helped.

'Not coping? Confused? Helpless?' She laughed. 'Sergeant, my daughter may have told you that my husband died several years ago. I'm afraid she's expected me to play the part of the grieving widow ever since. I was very happily married and before he died my husband made me promise to carry on living life to the full, which we had always done and I've continued to do. I have a very full and busy life. I love my daughter to bits, but she's very prim and proper, always has been, don't know where she gets it from. Did you meet her husband? He doesn't help the situation. She would have been better off married to a wet dishcloth.'

I laughed.

She studied me.

'You're very handsome, sergeant.'

I was taken aback by her forthrightness, her confidence.

'Thank you', I said, again a little sheepishly. I wasn't used to a woman like this... My eyes had strayed back to her thighs.

'Well, I had been expecting someone else, but my evening appears to be ruined. Would you have a drink with me sergeant?'

'I'd love to, but I'm afraid I'm on duty.'

'Oh, come on, just one? One won't hurt?'

Normally, I would refuse outright. It's not that I'm a complete stickler for regulations; I just like to have a clear head when I'm working.

'Okay then, just one.'

She smiled at me, got up and walked slowly out of sight into the kitchen. Sex on legs. I would have followed, to help, but I'm sure she would have spotted my erection. She returned carrying two glasses of wine. I swear she'd loosened her robe. She stood by me and extended an arm, to give me the glass, then changed her mind. She turned, and with her back to me, she bent over and put the two glasses on a coffee table. As she bent over, her robe rode up from the black leather boots revealing her bottom... inches from my face. Covering her plump pussy was a thin, black leather thong. I felt my mouth watering. She stayed there, provocatively, moving coasters under the wine glasses. Irresistible. I was about to grip her thighs and press my nose into her bottom when she stood up and turned around. What the hell was I thinking?

'There,' she said and was about to say something else when the doorbell rang. With a mock, horrified expression she put her forefinger to her mouth, then sat on my lap. She leaned toward my ear.

'It's my date,' she whispered. 'Keep quiet, I'm not interested in seeing him tonight.'

The doorbell rang again, then there was a knock on the door.

'Simone, are you there?' Another knock. 'Simone? I'm sorry I'm late, I couldn't get away.'

Simone looked at me mischievously. Unconsciously, my hand had rested on her bottom in an attempt to steady her as she sat on my lap. I left it there. She moved her lips towards me and I felt the tip of her tongue lick my chin then move upwards over my lips and finish on the tip of my nose, like a curious cat.

'Am I naughty?' she whispered.

I'm cautious by nature but I felt the signals so far merited a response. Only a fool would miss an opportunity like this.

'Very,' I replied.

She ran her hands over the thick body armour protecting my chest and shoulders.

'I like the feel of this,' she whispered. She ran her hands over my arms which were covered by the thin material of a short sleeve shirt.

'Mmmm, strong arm of the law...'

I could still hear the knocking in the background, the enquiring but disappointed voice. She kissed me and I returned the kiss, reaching up and cupping one of her breasts. The caller at the door had finally given up.

'Not answering the door, worrying my daughter, I am a very, very naughty girl aren't I?'

'You are,' I said.

'And what do police sergeants do with very, very, naughty girls?'

'We do very naughty things to them,' I said, playing along. 'Naughty girls need to be punished.'

She put her hand on my belt and tugged at my handcuffs.

'Do they need to be restrained?' she said.

'Oh yes, we always restrain them, we're always in control, and you've been such a bad girl that I've no other option but to punish you. Stand up and turn around.'

She smiled.

'Of course officer anything you say. I'm in the hands of the law now.'

I stood up behind her. I put my hands around her waist, onto her stomach and pulled her, roughly, towards me, pressing her bottom into me. I kissed her neck. She responded, her hands reaching behind and gripping onto my belt. I ran my hands over her belly and her breasts, enjoying the textures of her smooth skin and the fine silk. I felt the thin but soft leather of the thong covering her pussy and as I reached around to caress her bottom I could feel the soft leather ties at the side of her thighs and the smoothness of her boots on my legs. I pushed her away.

'Put your hands behind your back,' I said, sharply, 'palms facing outwards, thumbs together.'

She complied. I handcuffed her. Then, holding the cuffs with one hand by the linking chains between the bracelets, I led her towards the balcony.

'Out there,' I said, 'I'm going to fuck you so that the whole world can see what a naughty bitch you've been.'

She didn't say anything. Her mouth was open and her eyes were half closed. I slid open the large, glass doors and pushed her through, onto a spacious patio. It was a warm, early September evening. The traffic could be heard below. The view was fantastic. The sky was lit up by the city lights. I led her over to the balcony railing and told her to bend over. Simone did as she was told. She hadn't uttered a word but was breathing heavily. I took several paces back so that I could get a good look at her while I was taking my cock out.

Simone's legs, encased in elegant, leather boots, were slightly splayed. The cheeks of her bottom were half revealed by the silk robe that had ridden up as she'd bent over. Her breasts rested on the smooth, tubular, balcony railing. I'd wanted to lick and finger her pussy before fucking her, but I couldn't resist. I moved up behind her, eased the leather thong to one side and plunged into her. She gasped and arched her back. I held each side of her hips as I thrust in and out moving my hands around to enjoy the texture of the top of her boots, her smooth skin, the leather ties of the thong and her soft, silk robe. She was gasping and moaning. Her head had dropped and was lolling over the balcony. I stopped for a moment, held deep inside her, and unfastened a baton from my belt. Gripping her hip with one hand, I gave a sharp flick to the baton which made a cracking sound as it fully extended. The unexpected noise made her jump and I felt her pussy contract around my cock.

'What are you doing?' she asked, unable to turn around.

'I ask the questions, I do the fucking, I'm in control. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' she said, with a sharp intake of breath and she pushed back, impaling herself more deeply. I felt her soft bottom pressed firmly into the rough material of my uniform. I slipped the end of the baton under her chin and slid the cold metal rod toward my other hand. Then, holding onto each end, I gently raised her chin. Her back was arched, head raised in the air, hands cuffed behind her back. She was helpless. I began to fuck her again, moving in a slow, controlled rhythm. Each time I withdrew, to thrust again, her bottom pressed back eagerly. I could feel the soft leather thong, lubricated by her juices, massaging my cock as I moved backwards and forwards.

'Now then, I want you to shout out to the world what a naughty little bitch you've been and how a good fucking has made you realise the error of your ways, do you understand?

Simone began to shout:

'I'm sorry for being such a bitch! Please fuck me, fuck the bitchiness out of me!'

I couldn't maintain the controlled rhythm, I was too excited. I slid the baton from under her chin and threw it on the ground. I gripped her hips and began thrusting in and out of her.

'Louder,' I shouted.

Still thrusting, I gripped Simone's upper arms. She arched her back further and just screamed:

'Fuck me! Fuck me!'

The screams faded into the London night. After several more thrusts I stopped. I was on the verge of ejaculating, but I wanted to prolong the moment. I withdrew, pulled her upright and turned her around.

'That's better; you're learning your lesson'.

Simone's mouth was open, she was panting. I bent down, put my arms around her thighs and lifted her over my shoulder. I caressed her bottom and wriggled my fingers in her lush pussy as I carried her through to the lounge. I lay her gently on the sofa and removed the handcuffs. Simone reached out for my cock and began to lick and kiss it. I pulled back, I didn't want that, I just urgently wanted to fuck her, feel those long, spiked boots wrapped around me.

I stood her up, parted her robe and pulled at the thin leather ties at the sides of her hips. The leather thong fell to the ground. A small but thick quiff of soft pubic hair lay neatly on top of the creamy flesh between her legs. I buried my nose in her, ran my nose and tongue over her soft belly. I needed to taste her, but was desperate to be inside her again. I stood up, gathered her up in my arms, carried her across to a dining table and lay her on top of it. Perfect. The table was cock height. I undid my trousers, slid them down and squeezed into Simone who had raised and opened her legs to accommodate me. As I pumped back and forth I felt Simone's legs wrapping around my back, the sharp heels, the soft leather. I pumped harder, more urgently. Simone reached up and gripped each side of my body armour, at the shoulders, pulling herself towards me. We kissed, hungrily, lustfully. I was bent over the table, supported by my hands. Simone was now wrapped so tightly around me that I had to thrust forcefully to raise my cock from her pussy, the sensation of each exquisite thrust intensified by the look of pleasure on her face. I gave way, I couldn't hold back. For a few seconds I was utterly lost in pleasure. Simone lay back, panting.

'Fuck, that was good,' she said.

I just nodded, too drained to talk.

So, that was several months ago. I've been seeing Simone ever since. Well, sort of. I mostly spy on her. She knows. She calls me up, lets me know when she's dating. I sit in a police patrol car outside a restaurant, a pub, a theatre or her address, and watch. She often puts on a little coquettish show for me and I make notes. Then, every couple of weeks, I go to her flat, present her with the evidence of her behaviour and we spend the night fucking. She's hard work. She expects me to use props, invent scenarios and be imaginative with my punishments, to keep her fully turned on.

She's re kindled my career ambitions. Simone said she'd like to be fucked by an inspector, then a chief inspector, then ... Who knows? So, I'm studying hard. She's going to drive me up the ranks. I might make Chief one day.

Behind every great man there's a woman. I'm besotted with her. She's twice the age of any of my previous girlfriends... and twice the woman.