Freeing Lana (16 page)

“Not
yet,” he said, pulling his fingers out of her just before she could reach that
point of no return. Sergio pulled his hand behind him and then with his fingers
pointed toward the floor, delivered a swat between her legs, his cupped fingers
colliding against her wetness with a loud smack. The sound that came from her
mouth this time seemed to be laced with more pain than pleasure, but she
accepted it without comment.

Sergio
had never slapped a woman between the legs like that before, and he found
himself curious as to how much of it she would allow, as well as wanting to
know where her true threshold of pain might be. He raised his hand again and
delivered another punishing blow to her crotch, this one a tad more powerful.
Again she remained silent save for the initial cry when his hand first made
contact with her pussy. But as important as the knowledge of her limits was to
him, he didn’t want the experience to transform into one of absolute brutality;
it wasn’t about that to him, none of it was, not even close. He merely wanted
to find that perfect point where the pleasure disappeared completely from the
pain, that point he would never cross again once he found it. This was close
enough for this session, he reasoned, and mercifully made his way behind her
satisfied she had received ample pain for one night.

His
hands firmly on her hips, he entered in a deliberately forceful manner, hearing
her breath escape her as he did. A steady rocking of his hips, ever increasing
in tempo, quickly brought her back to that point she had been at before, that
thin line between the blissful and the orgasmic, but again, he stopped just shy
of crossing that line. He could hear the disappointment in her exasperated
breath as he withdrew his cock from her.

Knowing
the extent the night would eventually reach, Sergio smiled to himself at her
disappointment. She would be allowed to fall over that emotional cliff in time,
but not right now. He unbound her hands and straightened her up on her knees.
Taking one of her trembling hands in his, he led it to his dick and showed her
he wanted her fingers around it. Lori understood and unquestioningly began to
stroke him. When he was spent, he wiped the remainder of his wad in the palm of
her hand and then led her blindly to the bathroom.

He
stopped her just shy of the shower, and after adjusting the water to the
preferred heat, stepped inside. He lathered a washcloth with the Irish Spring
body wash and placed it in her hands as he pulled downward lightly to indicate
he wanted her on her knees again. Without further motivation, Lori went about
the task of washing the stickiness from his cock, taking special care to wash
his balls and underneath just as thoroughly as the shaft itself. When he was
satisfied the job had been done properly, he took the washcloth from her and
rinsed himself off in the shower, while she waited obediently beside him.

Again
back in the bedroom, her hands again bound behind her, Sergio stepped up in
front of her, and pulling her head slightly forward, guided his dick through
what Lana had once called the blowjob hole in her own mask. Lori would be
allowed to reach her orgasm later, while flat on her back and with her arms and
legs stretched to the four corners of the room, but before that could happen,
she would suck his dick until it was hard again. If she did it well, he would
give her the hard pounding she so desperately craved. If not, their next
session would begin with the whip instead of the paddle. At the moment, Sergio
Marsilis
found he was oddly conflicted as to which outcome
he would prefer.

Chapter Thirty-One

Lana
never saw the brown Saab as it pulled from the curb a block from the house she
and Tink shared, and she certainly never saw it pull into the prison parking
lot of the Collins Unit, parking several rows away from the spot she herself had
chosen. But even if she had seen it, she wouldn’t have recognized it since
Sergio
Marcilis
had been driving something completely
different the last time she had seen him. So her careful scan of the parking
lot, while easing her own mind, did little to verify no one would know she was
here again.

She
went through the same routine as she had before and in no time at all, she was
again sitting at a chair facing a wall of glass. And just as before, in a
matter of minutes the man who had abducted her and assaulted her over a period
of several weeks was sitting within a couple feet from her. He gave her a
puzzled smile as he picked up the phone and motioned for her to do the same.

“You
put me on your visitor’s list,” she demanded, “why?”

“Why
did you come?”

“You
first,” she said.

“Ok,
I put you on the list because I thought you might come and I would get to see
you again,” he said flatly. “Now it’s your turn, why did you come?”

“I
don’t know,” she finally said after pausing momentarily.

He
frowned and shook his head, reaching to hang the phone back in its cradle on
the wall. She watched in disbelief as he began to rise from his seat. After a
second, he hung the phone up and turned to go. Lana panicked, though she truly
wouldn’t have been able to say why, and slapped on the glass with her palm. Daniel
Morrow slowly sat back down and retrieved the phone without looking at her.

“I
am trying to figure some things out,” she said in a low, barely audible voice,
“but I’m really not sure what it is.” He looked back at her now, studying her
face for any reaction that might indicate she was lying. After a moment, he
seemed satisfied enough and spoke again.

“Then
since you didn’t answer the question, it’s still my turn,” he said.

“Ok,”
she whispered, resigned to this absurd game of tit-for-tat she had somehow
gotten herself caught up in with the man behind the glass.

“What
did you do when you left here yesterday?”

Lana
lowered her head, almost dropping the phone. When she did look back at the man,
tears were in the corners of her eyes. She knew it didn’t matter how she chose
to answer this one, because he already knew the truth somehow. She could see it
in his eyes.

“I
went home,” she managed.

“You
know what I’m asking,” he teased. “Did you make it home before your hand was on
that sweet pussy of yours?”

She
shook her still lowered head.

“Where
were you when you touched yourself then?”

“In
the parking lot,” she said, the tears now flowing fast and the sobs threatening
to escape her throat. She wanted to hang up the phone and run as she had the
time before, but she sat there unable to move.

“I
have to go,” she said, still not moving.

“Ok,
you go then,” he said, smiling broadly now, “but before you do, I want to tell
you something. Is that ok?”

“Yes.’

“Tonight,
after the lights go out in this place, I will be thinking about you in your
car, your hand rubbing that delicious pussy of yours, while I jerk off. Now
what do you think about that?”

“I’m
not sure,” she said truthfully.

“Will
you do it again when you leave today?”

“No,
I can’t.”

“I
think you can, and you will,” he said.

“I
have to go.”

“Hurry
up then, and get in that car as fast as you can, Lana,” he said with a sly
laugh.

Lana
did hurry out of the building, but not because she had some inner intention of
fingering herself in the parking lot as before, no matter what he was probably
thinking. It was worse than that. No, she had to get out of there, and get to
the safety of her car before anyone saw how wet she had become while listening
to this deranged madman while he had been talking to her. She couldn’t believe
it, but she could feel the wetness spreading down one of her thighs as she half
walked, half ran across the parking lot.

When
she got in the car and closed the door behind her, the urge to do exactly what
he had expected her to do was almost overwhelming. It took all her strength
just to keep her hands on the steering wheel long enough for the urge to pass.
What the fuck, Lana!
She turned the key
and started the car, but as soon as she put the car into reverse, she had to
slam on the brakes to keep from hitting the brown Saab that was passing right
behind her.

2

Detective
Tom Tinkerton, known by most simply as Tink, sat in his unmarked police car
outside of a Jiffy Lube on Main Street. He, like the officers in three other
cars located at several businesses nearby, were watching the front door of a
small convenience store. Moments before, a man named John Malcolm had gone
through that front door as he had many times in the past to purchase a package
of CHILL X, one of the localized versions of the synthetic marijuana that had
been sweeping across the country.

This
store, like many others in the city still sold the illegal substances, but they
were hard to catch at it since they only sold to customers they knew. They knew
John, but what they didn’t know was that he had been arrested two weeks earlier
as he left the emergency room of the local hospital. He had been using the drug
when he flipped out – his words to describe trying to beat the hell out of his
wife for clearly working in tandem with the devil to poison his Dr Pepper – and
was now in the store to buy the drug with money Tink had given him, all of the
serial numbers carefully marked and recorded in a log at the police station.

In
the car with Tink was another detective, Mel Massey, as well as two task force
officers sitting in the back seat. Once John came out of the store with the
brown bag, and immediately reached up to scratch his forehead – the signal
designed to let them know his purchase had been successful – Tink and the men
in his car would be the first ones through the door. The two men in the store’s
parking lot, one on the payphone and the other pumping gas, would take John
Malcolm into custody so the store employees wouldn’t know he had tipped them
off. It was just a waiting game now. There was no sense burning the bridge in
case it could be used again at another store.

“So
Tink, you know you will eventually have to settle down and get married,” Mel
teased him from the passenger seat. Mel, like everyone else in the English speaking
world had no idea he was sleeping with the woman he had rescued some time back
from Daniel Morrow. That wouldn’t have gone over well in public opinion. They
all assumed, and he was happy to let them, that he still lived alone, eating TV
dinners and smoking too much. Tink would be correct if he assumed they had a
pool going on whether they would find his body on the toilet or the recliner.
Of course, before the clock struck noon, they would know about Lana; there
would just be no avoiding it.

“What,
and give up all the peace and quiet like all you assholes have?”

“Exactly,”
Mel shot back, “exactly like us. Don’t you know misery loves company?”

“Nah,
I’m good. I like my life like it is, quiet and uncomplicated.”

“Yeah,
but a little noise is easy enough to ignore when it comes attached to a tasty
little piece of ass.”

This
brought chuckles from the guys in the back seat, the two task force members – task
force was the police code name for arrogant pricks just one step away from
taking out Wal-Mart shoppers with a sniper rifle – obvious experts on the finer
points of the mysterious world of ass-getting.

“Um-hum,”
Tink teased, “like you could smell a piece of ass if it sat on your face, Mel.”

“I’ll
have you know, you old fuck, that I am frequently…wait, heads up boys, that’s
our guy.”

All
four men looked back at the store, just as the message came over the two-way
radio from one of the other cars, to see John Malcolm scratching his head as he
walked around the side of the building.

“Let’s
go,” Tink said, getting out of the car.

3

Lana
was standing in the kitchen, holding the black mask over the trashcan. Her
latest trip to the prison had filled her with more guilt than her first. The
only thing that allowed her any self respect in the matter was that at least
this time, she hadn’t used Tink as some sort of a proxy fuck to satisfy the
urges Daniel had invoked within her. He deserved better than she had been
giving him, and she intended to give him that. It was time to put the past
behind her and get on with her life, a wonderful life with Tink at the helm.
But just as she dropped the cursed black cloth she had spent hours making onto
the top of the container, seconds before she intended to tie the bag and carry
it out to the dumpster in the alley hiding her guilt forever, her phone rang.

“What!”
she screamed into the phone.

The
man on the other end of the phone was Mel Massey. He had taken Tink’s phone and
scrolled through the address book to find her name at Tink’s request – the only
request he made before he lost consciousness – and he had called to tell her
what had happened.

“Tink’s
been shot,” he repeated into a phone that was already falling from Lana’s hand.

Chapter Thirty-Two