Recovery
Title: Recovery (sequel to Not Protocol)
Author: Alsike
Fandom: Law & Order SVU/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Alex Cabot/Emily Prentiss
Warning: attempts at dehumanizing sexual humiliation
Rating: NC-17
Summary: um, sex and moral ambiguities
I never thought i was actually going to write this. Then I did. No longer non-con, but possibly even more sick than the first one. Less plot too.
Not Protocol
“She’s pretty.”
Elliot nodded. “I could only get a little info. My friend down in DC didn’t want to tell me much. Too fresh I suppose.”
“You didn’t have to do this.”
Elliot looked down at the image of the smiling blonde woman. “Yes I did.” He sighed.
Alex recused herself from his guilt.
“Her child died. Suspicious circs, possibility of molestation.”
“Tied to the husband?”
“He was a cop. Air-tight alibi.”
Alex scowled. “Let me guess. Other cops?”
Elliot gave her a look.
* * *
Alex stared blankly down at the missive and folded it quickly as her door opened and Olivia came into her office.
“What’s that?”
“Psych Evaluation.” She stuffed it into her briefcase, not noticing the papers crumpling under her too firm grip.
Olivia frowned. “Your psych evaluation?”
Alex blinked. “Um, no. Did Huang have to turn one in?”
Reminded of her pain, Olivia gave her an empathetic look, tears glistening in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
Alex stiffened. “Isn’t being forced to have twelve sessions with a professional enough? Am I also required to bare my soul for my colleagues?”
“Alex!” Olivia clasped her arm, and then thought better of it, pulling it back. “You were raped.”
“No. I wasn’t.”
“We had to watch the tapes.” Olivia covered her face. “I can’t believe she did that to you. I can’t believe we let that happen.”
“She didn’t rape me,” Alex said quietly. “She couldn’t.”
“How can you believe that? You gave her Man 1; you didn’t even try to prosecute for the rape. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t be afraid of being seen as a victim.”
Alex slammed her briefcase on her desk with a smack. “I am not a victim! I talked her out of her insane alternate personality. I got a confession. And I got an orgasm on top of that. I was in control. It was not a situation I expected to be in, but I turned it to my advantage. I turned being handcuffed, lusted after, and bullied to my advantage.”
Olivia was making noises of placation, and Alex snarled at her.
“You can’t understand that. You want everyone to be a victim so you can show just how kind and empathetic you are. Well some of us don’t want to wallow. Some of us want to recover.” Alex shook her head and reached into her briefcase, pulling out the crumpled letter. “And if you wanted to know, that was her psych report. She has a personality disorder due to trauma, but shows promise of recovery with treatment.”
Olivia took it from her and read it herself. “It says she can have visitors. Why did they tell you that?” She looked at Alex, who paled and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re… you’re not thinking of going?”
“Huang says I need closure.”
“What kind of closure do you expect to get? She’s a murderer and whether you think she raped you or not, she certainly gave it her best shot. You really want to give her another chance?”
Alex closed her eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand. I have to go.”
“You don’t.” Olivia said bluntly. Her harsh gun-carrying persona was back.
“I do.”
* * *
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
Alex sat down across the table from Emily. Too often psych hospitals were worse places than jails. This one was no exception. The flat grey walls, ubiquitous panic buttons, and flat grey orderlies would make even a sane person want to commit suicide. Emily seemed to be all right though, if the slightly embarrassed cock of the head and hesitant smile were any indication. Alex didn’t approve of the shirt. Light colors washed her out.
“I’m not okay with what you did to me,” she said, setting her briefcase on the floor. Apparently Emily was considered stable enough to not have a guard. Alex had been told to press the button when she was finished. It was a little like interviewing an inmate at Rikers, but then she usually brought her own guards. She couldn’t see any cameras either, and the privacy made a strange sense of tension settle over her.
“There’s no reason you should be.”
“I hate it that you were right. I couldn’t blame you for it. I had to give you permission, because I am so afraid of being a victim.”
Emily nodded. “I could see that. I could see how it would break you. It broke her.”
Alex could understand this better now. “Your…”
“My colleague.” Emily looked away. “She had spent years looking at the horrors that destroyed other people’s lives, but once they touched her, once she was just another victim, without a charmed life, she couldn’t take it. She slit her wrists.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.” Emily pushed the words back. “I should never have used that against you. I should never have put you in that position because I couldn’t deal with my guilt.”
“Don’t worry.” Alex almost laughed. There was something about this woman that disarmed her. Especially because it was her this time, not a fractured shard of a shattered woman. “For someone criminally insane, you managed to make it remarkably less shameful than it could have been.”
Emily smiled.
“There is something I want though.”
“What?”
“I want you to submit to me. My therapist said that I have a dominant personality, and being forced to submit shook me. He recommended long walks and hot cocoa to speed my recovery. I thought this would be better.”
Emily’s smile had slipped away at her first proclamation, but now it became a lopsided grin. “I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.” She stood up and opened her hands. “What do you want me to do?”
“You’re just going to agree?”
“I want absolution too. If this will help you forgive me, I will do whatever you want.”
Alex looked at the woman and considered. She still felt a brush of fear when she stood, when she showed her power, and Alex remembered being forced onto the table, being touched. She needed this.
“Take off your shirt,” she said shortly. “Put your arms through your bra straps but leave the bra on.” She saw the flush rising up Emily’s cheeks. “You don’t have to face me if you don’t want to.”
Emily turned away as she shucked off the shirt and wriggled half out of her bra. Alex chuckled.
“Why are you embarrassed? You stuck your fingers in my pussy with less reticence.”
Emily flinched at the harsh reminder.
Her body really was beautiful, Alex thought. She was shorter than her, but still tall for a woman, and Alex’s heels gave her the height and the power. Her hair was tied back in a short braid, which was not its best look, but Alex was just relieved that they hadn’t cut it. Her back was smooth and narrow. Sharp shoulder blades jutted out from it, and it was traced with faint shadows made by the outlines of ribs and vertebras.
She stood with her head bowed when she was done, still facing away.
“What now?”
“Put your hands behind you back.”
Emily crossed her wrists conveniently and Alex took the plastic ties out of her purse. She slid them around her wrists and tightened the flaps until they dug into her skin.
“Will these hold you better than the metal ones?”
Emily nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
Alex wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like that.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Better,” Alex said, smiling. “Turn around and let me look at you.”
She was gorgeous and stood straight but slightly bowed like a proper submissive. Alex traced her fingers over her chest. “Very good.” With one move she popped a breast out of the straining cups of Emily’s bra. Emily cringed.
Alex ran her thumb over the areola. It stiffened under her fingers and the nipple tightened. The flush of shame that suffused Emily’s body started from her chest and spread outwards in both directions.
“I like to see you like this,” Alex said, the words slipping out accidentally. The truth was she needed to see her like this. She needed to see her as someone she could control. Their previous encounter was an aberration. This was where she belonged.
Emily’s breasts were heavier than her and full. She wasn’t jealous exactly, but as she weighed them in her hands she wondered if any man had fucked between them. She wondered what that would feel like.
She flicked open the catch on the back of the bra and tossed it away, then took hold of them roughly, standing close to make use of her greater height.
“Tell me they’re mine,” she said.
“They’re yours, mistress.” Emily’s voice had that slight shake of uncertainty, but she was wrong.
“No. Tell me.”
“My…” the words were difficult to get out. “My breasts are yours, mistress.”
Alex grinned. The twisted discomfort of Emily’s expression was truly lovely. Doing was one thing, but saying was quite another. Alex turned away and rummaged in her purse. She had come prepared. The scent of the black sharpie hit Emily’s nostrils when she opened the cap. Her pretty submissive looked up, her eyes wide.
“What?”
“You disfigured me, remember? I won’t ever forget.” She stepped forward. “Stay still.”
Emily shuddered as the pen squeaked against her skin.
“Property of Alexandra Cabot,” Alex wrote in circles around her nipples. Emily twitched as the pen left marks on sensitive skin, but didn’t try to pull away.
That was when Alex could smell her, the heat rising from between her legs.
She had won.
She could have left it there, but they had time, and Alex hadn’t finished showing Emily how creative and sadistic she could be.
“Bend over,” she said. “Put your face on the table.”
She had done it to her: ground her face into the metal surface, bending her glasses out of shape. Alex pushed down on the nape of her neck, making sure she was flat. Then she unfastened her pants and shoved them down to her knees. (Alex hadn’t managed to wear skirts for a few weeks afterwards. She felt too vulnerable, too available. Removing her pants was removing her armor.)
Emily’s underwear was soaked. Alex ran the pads of her fingers over the outline of the swollen lips. Emily let out a whimper and Alex grinned. This was so much better than she had imagined. She jerked the underwear down and parted her ass. Everything was visible: her puckered asshole, her dripping cunt, even her little swollen clit.
“Perfect.”
“Don’t-” came the beginning of a protest, but Emily bit her lip before she finished.
“Don’t what?” Alex asked harshly. “Don’t hurt you? Don’t violate you? You did it to me. You fucked me, remember? You fucked me with as much restraint as a horny dog.”
She spun the sharpie in her fingers and then slid the rounded base into Emily’s slick wet hole. Even through the medium of the pen, Alex could feel her tightness. The distance made her feel dirty and powerful. The tightness made her want to fuck her until she bled.
Pushing apart her ass cheeks with two fingers, Alex pushed the slick pen against Emily’s asshole. She felt the muscles tense as Emily tried to keep her out. Alex smiled savagely.
“You can’t resist this.” She pushed harder, rocking it inside, parting the muscles by force. (Alex had had an anal exam once. During college she had stress-induced ulcers and the doctor wanted to check for internal bleeding. The latex covered finger probing inside her relaxed anus had been the most humiliating feeling. She wanted this to be worse.)
“If you don’t relax, I could really hurt you.” Her hand slid over Emily’s smooth backside. “I kind of want to hurt you.” The muscles slowly relaxed. She dipped the pen into her cunt again, making sure it was wet enough, and then slid it into Emily’s now receptive asshole about halfway.
“Keep that there,” she said and watched Emily clench and relax, trying to adjust to the feeling. It looked so perverted. Alex shifted uncomfortable, hoping she wasn’t going to soak through her skirt. Her underwear were already a sodden scrap between her thighs.
“I want to nail you,” she said quietly. “But you’re so wet, any force would be anti-climactic. So I’m just going to touch you, okay?”
Emily nodded barely perceptibly and Alex slid her fingers between her legs. She stroked up and down, inside her lips, not quite touching her clit, not delving into her passage. Emily’s breathing was rough but even.
Alex slipped her hand around her waist and cupped her from the other direction, rubbing over her clit in the same way as if she were masturbating herself. Then she slid one finger of her other hand into her from behind.
Half crouched, (not easy in heels) Alex took the cap of the pen between her lips and started to fuck her with it. She fucked her cunt with both hands, now two fingers inside of her, now three, all ten working against sensitive flesh. Emily was squirming and mewling, rubbing her breasts against the rough wood of the table for just a little more stimulation.
And then she was coming, coming fucking buckets into Alex’s hands.
Alex kept fucking her until her legs gave out and Emily buckled, her head hitting the table and her knees the floor. Alex smeared the cum over Emily’s body, her chest, her belly and her thighs, even her face. She was still gasping, and she gave a little moan when Alex removed the pen with a pop.
“Well, I feel better,” said Alex, smiling. Emily looked up at her, an odd expression on her face. It made Alex tense. It had gone pretty well so far, but you never knew when you would hit a trigger. “What?”
“May I…”
“What?”
“May I eat you, mistress?”
Alex had known there was a reason she had worn thigh highs today. She kicked off her heels and then stepped out of her sodden, useless panties, tossing them into a corner. She hiked up her skirt and sat on the table, the edge pressing into her bare ass.
“Go ahead.”
On anyone else, Emily’s smile wouldn’t have been lecherous. It was open and innocent and pleased, even on her face, red, sweaty and marked by the table as it was. But the look in her eye was clearly lecherous and Alex was sure she was making a puddle on the table.
Emily managed to pop up between her legs at just the right place for Alex’s knees to hook over her shoulders. Alex locked her ankles behind her back. The table was a little high, and Emily, her hands still bound behind her back, would be of no assistance if she lost her balance. She gripped the edge of the table fiercely, but was still unprepared when Emily’s tongue snaked inside her.
Alex shut her eyes and tried not to cry out as Emily lapped up the excess moisture like a child with ice cream. She was pretty certain there was a tantric text somewhere that described Emily’s technique, circling, tongue fucking, then taking her clit between her lips and sucking on it, until Alex was coming so hard she had lifted of the table, riding Emily’s mouth, barely balanced on her hands.
But Emily didn’t stop, just pushed back, roughly pushing with her tongue and bringing her teeth into play. Alex was coming again and again. She lost her grip on the table and slid down Emily’s chest, knocking them both into a tangled heap of cum and crushed limbs on the grimy floor.
“Oh, fuck,” Alex managed to get out when she had recovered enough to speak. Her suit was never going to be the same.
Emily was grinning at her, her face glistening with smeared cum. Alex caught her jaw, licked the cum off her lips and slid her tongue into her mouth.
It tasted a little too much like her pussy.
She cringed and untangled herself, getting to her feet and straightening out her suit as best she could. She took wet wipes and scissors out of her purse and picked Emily up off the floor. It was almost fun to clean her up and dress her. She teased her just a little, before jerking up her wet underwear and pants, and fastening them properly. She cut the cuffs off and tucked the remains back into her purse. No evidence left behind. Then Emily, still pliant and submissive, let her put on her bra and her shirt. Alex traced a thumb around the black marks she had left on her breasts. They would be a trial to get off, and the absolute appropriation of someone else’s body that they symbolized only turned her on again.
“Arms up!” she said, and jerked down the shirt until Emily’s head popped through the correct aperture.
Alex slipped on her pumps and cleaned her hands thoroughly with the wet wipes, then she did Emily’s face.
She didn’t like the way Emily had gone limp and childlike at her, but she liked the slightly cruel ‘cat who ate the canary’ grin that had spread across her face right now even less.
“What is it?” she asked sharply and Emily jolted. Her expression changed entirely.
“It’s nothing.” Emily looked down and flushed.
“Tell me.”
Emily hesitated, but eventually started to speak. “My… my Alter’s been having dirty thoughts about you since… since we saw you,” she managed. “And you’re so much kinkier than she imagined.” Alex grimaced. It was always a compliment to be considered kinky by someone’s sadistic, homicidal alternate personality. “She is so in love with you right now.”
“Who was I fucking? You or her?”
Emily looked shy. “Me.”
“Good.” Alex lifted her chin and kissed her again, just a chaste press of lips, a mark of possession perhaps, if she needed another one of those. She packed up her purse and pressed the button to ring the orderly.
Emily’s hand slid around her wrist and she looked back sharply.
Emily’s expression was so needy, so broken, and all the traces of the hard-eyed, sharp-tongued killer she had first met had disappeared. Her arms slid around her waist and she pressed her forehead to Alex’s stiff back.
The orderly was unlocking the door.
“I think I’m a little in love with you too.”
“Ready to go, Miss Cabot?”
Alex blinked, hardly registering the orderly’s presence. “Really?” she asked, not believing it. “I…”
What could she say? What would mean anything to a woman with fifteen years in prison ahead of her, whom she had just bound and fucked for her own peace of mind? What did that make her?
Emily slipped away from her and stood docilely behind the table. She didn’t look at her, but just the table brought too many images into her mind.
“Me too,” she said harshly, awkwardly, knowing it was a lie. “Me too.”
FIN
Author: Alsike
Fandom: Law & Order SVU/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Alex Cabot/Emily Prentiss
Warning: attempts at dehumanizing sexual humiliation
Rating: NC-17
Summary: um, sex and moral ambiguities
I never thought i was actually going to write this. Then I did. No longer non-con, but possibly even more sick than the first one. Less plot too.
Not Protocol
“She’s pretty.”
Elliot nodded. “I could only get a little info. My friend down in DC didn’t want to tell me much. Too fresh I suppose.”
“You didn’t have to do this.”
Elliot looked down at the image of the smiling blonde woman. “Yes I did.” He sighed.
Alex recused herself from his guilt.
“Her child died. Suspicious circs, possibility of molestation.”
“Tied to the husband?”
“He was a cop. Air-tight alibi.”
Alex scowled. “Let me guess. Other cops?”
Elliot gave her a look.
* * *
Alex stared blankly down at the missive and folded it quickly as her door opened and Olivia came into her office.
“What’s that?”
“Psych Evaluation.” She stuffed it into her briefcase, not noticing the papers crumpling under her too firm grip.
Olivia frowned. “Your psych evaluation?”
Alex blinked. “Um, no. Did Huang have to turn one in?”
Reminded of her pain, Olivia gave her an empathetic look, tears glistening in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
Alex stiffened. “Isn’t being forced to have twelve sessions with a professional enough? Am I also required to bare my soul for my colleagues?”
“Alex!” Olivia clasped her arm, and then thought better of it, pulling it back. “You were raped.”
“No. I wasn’t.”
“We had to watch the tapes.” Olivia covered her face. “I can’t believe she did that to you. I can’t believe we let that happen.”
“She didn’t rape me,” Alex said quietly. “She couldn’t.”
“How can you believe that? You gave her Man 1; you didn’t even try to prosecute for the rape. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t be afraid of being seen as a victim.”
Alex slammed her briefcase on her desk with a smack. “I am not a victim! I talked her out of her insane alternate personality. I got a confession. And I got an orgasm on top of that. I was in control. It was not a situation I expected to be in, but I turned it to my advantage. I turned being handcuffed, lusted after, and bullied to my advantage.”
Olivia was making noises of placation, and Alex snarled at her.
“You can’t understand that. You want everyone to be a victim so you can show just how kind and empathetic you are. Well some of us don’t want to wallow. Some of us want to recover.” Alex shook her head and reached into her briefcase, pulling out the crumpled letter. “And if you wanted to know, that was her psych report. She has a personality disorder due to trauma, but shows promise of recovery with treatment.”
Olivia took it from her and read it herself. “It says she can have visitors. Why did they tell you that?” She looked at Alex, who paled and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re… you’re not thinking of going?”
“Huang says I need closure.”
“What kind of closure do you expect to get? She’s a murderer and whether you think she raped you or not, she certainly gave it her best shot. You really want to give her another chance?”
Alex closed her eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand. I have to go.”
“You don’t.” Olivia said bluntly. Her harsh gun-carrying persona was back.
“I do.”
* * *
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
Alex sat down across the table from Emily. Too often psych hospitals were worse places than jails. This one was no exception. The flat grey walls, ubiquitous panic buttons, and flat grey orderlies would make even a sane person want to commit suicide. Emily seemed to be all right though, if the slightly embarrassed cock of the head and hesitant smile were any indication. Alex didn’t approve of the shirt. Light colors washed her out.
“I’m not okay with what you did to me,” she said, setting her briefcase on the floor. Apparently Emily was considered stable enough to not have a guard. Alex had been told to press the button when she was finished. It was a little like interviewing an inmate at Rikers, but then she usually brought her own guards. She couldn’t see any cameras either, and the privacy made a strange sense of tension settle over her.
“There’s no reason you should be.”
“I hate it that you were right. I couldn’t blame you for it. I had to give you permission, because I am so afraid of being a victim.”
Emily nodded. “I could see that. I could see how it would break you. It broke her.”
Alex could understand this better now. “Your…”
“My colleague.” Emily looked away. “She had spent years looking at the horrors that destroyed other people’s lives, but once they touched her, once she was just another victim, without a charmed life, she couldn’t take it. She slit her wrists.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.” Emily pushed the words back. “I should never have used that against you. I should never have put you in that position because I couldn’t deal with my guilt.”
“Don’t worry.” Alex almost laughed. There was something about this woman that disarmed her. Especially because it was her this time, not a fractured shard of a shattered woman. “For someone criminally insane, you managed to make it remarkably less shameful than it could have been.”
Emily smiled.
“There is something I want though.”
“What?”
“I want you to submit to me. My therapist said that I have a dominant personality, and being forced to submit shook me. He recommended long walks and hot cocoa to speed my recovery. I thought this would be better.”
Emily’s smile had slipped away at her first proclamation, but now it became a lopsided grin. “I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.” She stood up and opened her hands. “What do you want me to do?”
“You’re just going to agree?”
“I want absolution too. If this will help you forgive me, I will do whatever you want.”
Alex looked at the woman and considered. She still felt a brush of fear when she stood, when she showed her power, and Alex remembered being forced onto the table, being touched. She needed this.
“Take off your shirt,” she said shortly. “Put your arms through your bra straps but leave the bra on.” She saw the flush rising up Emily’s cheeks. “You don’t have to face me if you don’t want to.”
Emily turned away as she shucked off the shirt and wriggled half out of her bra. Alex chuckled.
“Why are you embarrassed? You stuck your fingers in my pussy with less reticence.”
Emily flinched at the harsh reminder.
Her body really was beautiful, Alex thought. She was shorter than her, but still tall for a woman, and Alex’s heels gave her the height and the power. Her hair was tied back in a short braid, which was not its best look, but Alex was just relieved that they hadn’t cut it. Her back was smooth and narrow. Sharp shoulder blades jutted out from it, and it was traced with faint shadows made by the outlines of ribs and vertebras.
She stood with her head bowed when she was done, still facing away.
“What now?”
“Put your hands behind you back.”
Emily crossed her wrists conveniently and Alex took the plastic ties out of her purse. She slid them around her wrists and tightened the flaps until they dug into her skin.
“Will these hold you better than the metal ones?”
Emily nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
Alex wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like that.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Better,” Alex said, smiling. “Turn around and let me look at you.”
She was gorgeous and stood straight but slightly bowed like a proper submissive. Alex traced her fingers over her chest. “Very good.” With one move she popped a breast out of the straining cups of Emily’s bra. Emily cringed.
Alex ran her thumb over the areola. It stiffened under her fingers and the nipple tightened. The flush of shame that suffused Emily’s body started from her chest and spread outwards in both directions.
“I like to see you like this,” Alex said, the words slipping out accidentally. The truth was she needed to see her like this. She needed to see her as someone she could control. Their previous encounter was an aberration. This was where she belonged.
Emily’s breasts were heavier than her and full. She wasn’t jealous exactly, but as she weighed them in her hands she wondered if any man had fucked between them. She wondered what that would feel like.
She flicked open the catch on the back of the bra and tossed it away, then took hold of them roughly, standing close to make use of her greater height.
“Tell me they’re mine,” she said.
“They’re yours, mistress.” Emily’s voice had that slight shake of uncertainty, but she was wrong.
“No. Tell me.”
“My…” the words were difficult to get out. “My breasts are yours, mistress.”
Alex grinned. The twisted discomfort of Emily’s expression was truly lovely. Doing was one thing, but saying was quite another. Alex turned away and rummaged in her purse. She had come prepared. The scent of the black sharpie hit Emily’s nostrils when she opened the cap. Her pretty submissive looked up, her eyes wide.
“What?”
“You disfigured me, remember? I won’t ever forget.” She stepped forward. “Stay still.”
Emily shuddered as the pen squeaked against her skin.
“Property of Alexandra Cabot,” Alex wrote in circles around her nipples. Emily twitched as the pen left marks on sensitive skin, but didn’t try to pull away.
That was when Alex could smell her, the heat rising from between her legs.
She had won.
She could have left it there, but they had time, and Alex hadn’t finished showing Emily how creative and sadistic she could be.
“Bend over,” she said. “Put your face on the table.”
She had done it to her: ground her face into the metal surface, bending her glasses out of shape. Alex pushed down on the nape of her neck, making sure she was flat. Then she unfastened her pants and shoved them down to her knees. (Alex hadn’t managed to wear skirts for a few weeks afterwards. She felt too vulnerable, too available. Removing her pants was removing her armor.)
Emily’s underwear was soaked. Alex ran the pads of her fingers over the outline of the swollen lips. Emily let out a whimper and Alex grinned. This was so much better than she had imagined. She jerked the underwear down and parted her ass. Everything was visible: her puckered asshole, her dripping cunt, even her little swollen clit.
“Perfect.”
“Don’t-” came the beginning of a protest, but Emily bit her lip before she finished.
“Don’t what?” Alex asked harshly. “Don’t hurt you? Don’t violate you? You did it to me. You fucked me, remember? You fucked me with as much restraint as a horny dog.”
She spun the sharpie in her fingers and then slid the rounded base into Emily’s slick wet hole. Even through the medium of the pen, Alex could feel her tightness. The distance made her feel dirty and powerful. The tightness made her want to fuck her until she bled.
Pushing apart her ass cheeks with two fingers, Alex pushed the slick pen against Emily’s asshole. She felt the muscles tense as Emily tried to keep her out. Alex smiled savagely.
“You can’t resist this.” She pushed harder, rocking it inside, parting the muscles by force. (Alex had had an anal exam once. During college she had stress-induced ulcers and the doctor wanted to check for internal bleeding. The latex covered finger probing inside her relaxed anus had been the most humiliating feeling. She wanted this to be worse.)
“If you don’t relax, I could really hurt you.” Her hand slid over Emily’s smooth backside. “I kind of want to hurt you.” The muscles slowly relaxed. She dipped the pen into her cunt again, making sure it was wet enough, and then slid it into Emily’s now receptive asshole about halfway.
“Keep that there,” she said and watched Emily clench and relax, trying to adjust to the feeling. It looked so perverted. Alex shifted uncomfortable, hoping she wasn’t going to soak through her skirt. Her underwear were already a sodden scrap between her thighs.
“I want to nail you,” she said quietly. “But you’re so wet, any force would be anti-climactic. So I’m just going to touch you, okay?”
Emily nodded barely perceptibly and Alex slid her fingers between her legs. She stroked up and down, inside her lips, not quite touching her clit, not delving into her passage. Emily’s breathing was rough but even.
Alex slipped her hand around her waist and cupped her from the other direction, rubbing over her clit in the same way as if she were masturbating herself. Then she slid one finger of her other hand into her from behind.
Half crouched, (not easy in heels) Alex took the cap of the pen between her lips and started to fuck her with it. She fucked her cunt with both hands, now two fingers inside of her, now three, all ten working against sensitive flesh. Emily was squirming and mewling, rubbing her breasts against the rough wood of the table for just a little more stimulation.
And then she was coming, coming fucking buckets into Alex’s hands.
Alex kept fucking her until her legs gave out and Emily buckled, her head hitting the table and her knees the floor. Alex smeared the cum over Emily’s body, her chest, her belly and her thighs, even her face. She was still gasping, and she gave a little moan when Alex removed the pen with a pop.
“Well, I feel better,” said Alex, smiling. Emily looked up at her, an odd expression on her face. It made Alex tense. It had gone pretty well so far, but you never knew when you would hit a trigger. “What?”
“May I…”
“What?”
“May I eat you, mistress?”
Alex had known there was a reason she had worn thigh highs today. She kicked off her heels and then stepped out of her sodden, useless panties, tossing them into a corner. She hiked up her skirt and sat on the table, the edge pressing into her bare ass.
“Go ahead.”
On anyone else, Emily’s smile wouldn’t have been lecherous. It was open and innocent and pleased, even on her face, red, sweaty and marked by the table as it was. But the look in her eye was clearly lecherous and Alex was sure she was making a puddle on the table.
Emily managed to pop up between her legs at just the right place for Alex’s knees to hook over her shoulders. Alex locked her ankles behind her back. The table was a little high, and Emily, her hands still bound behind her back, would be of no assistance if she lost her balance. She gripped the edge of the table fiercely, but was still unprepared when Emily’s tongue snaked inside her.
Alex shut her eyes and tried not to cry out as Emily lapped up the excess moisture like a child with ice cream. She was pretty certain there was a tantric text somewhere that described Emily’s technique, circling, tongue fucking, then taking her clit between her lips and sucking on it, until Alex was coming so hard she had lifted of the table, riding Emily’s mouth, barely balanced on her hands.
But Emily didn’t stop, just pushed back, roughly pushing with her tongue and bringing her teeth into play. Alex was coming again and again. She lost her grip on the table and slid down Emily’s chest, knocking them both into a tangled heap of cum and crushed limbs on the grimy floor.
“Oh, fuck,” Alex managed to get out when she had recovered enough to speak. Her suit was never going to be the same.
Emily was grinning at her, her face glistening with smeared cum. Alex caught her jaw, licked the cum off her lips and slid her tongue into her mouth.
It tasted a little too much like her pussy.
She cringed and untangled herself, getting to her feet and straightening out her suit as best she could. She took wet wipes and scissors out of her purse and picked Emily up off the floor. It was almost fun to clean her up and dress her. She teased her just a little, before jerking up her wet underwear and pants, and fastening them properly. She cut the cuffs off and tucked the remains back into her purse. No evidence left behind. Then Emily, still pliant and submissive, let her put on her bra and her shirt. Alex traced a thumb around the black marks she had left on her breasts. They would be a trial to get off, and the absolute appropriation of someone else’s body that they symbolized only turned her on again.
“Arms up!” she said, and jerked down the shirt until Emily’s head popped through the correct aperture.
Alex slipped on her pumps and cleaned her hands thoroughly with the wet wipes, then she did Emily’s face.
She didn’t like the way Emily had gone limp and childlike at her, but she liked the slightly cruel ‘cat who ate the canary’ grin that had spread across her face right now even less.
“What is it?” she asked sharply and Emily jolted. Her expression changed entirely.
“It’s nothing.” Emily looked down and flushed.
“Tell me.”
Emily hesitated, but eventually started to speak. “My… my Alter’s been having dirty thoughts about you since… since we saw you,” she managed. “And you’re so much kinkier than she imagined.” Alex grimaced. It was always a compliment to be considered kinky by someone’s sadistic, homicidal alternate personality. “She is so in love with you right now.”
“Who was I fucking? You or her?”
Emily looked shy. “Me.”
“Good.” Alex lifted her chin and kissed her again, just a chaste press of lips, a mark of possession perhaps, if she needed another one of those. She packed up her purse and pressed the button to ring the orderly.
Emily’s hand slid around her wrist and she looked back sharply.
Emily’s expression was so needy, so broken, and all the traces of the hard-eyed, sharp-tongued killer she had first met had disappeared. Her arms slid around her waist and she pressed her forehead to Alex’s stiff back.
The orderly was unlocking the door.
“I think I’m a little in love with you too.”
“Ready to go, Miss Cabot?”
Alex blinked, hardly registering the orderly’s presence. “Really?” she asked, not believing it. “I…”
What could she say? What would mean anything to a woman with fifteen years in prison ahead of her, whom she had just bound and fucked for her own peace of mind? What did that make her?
Emily slipped away from her and stood docilely behind the table. She didn’t look at her, but just the table brought too many images into her mind.
“Me too,” she said harshly, awkwardly, knowing it was a lie. “Me too.”
FIN