A Kat Derringer Adventure
By J.R. Francisco
"All right, deputy," Long told Brianna, "take off that cute little uniform."
Brianna looked on in shock and confusion. "What?"
Long leered at both Brianna and Jenny, who stood in Joanna Kresser's bedroom. He stood before the closed door of the room with his gun trained on the two young women. Montoya had departed, saying he was going to get the stuff.
"We don't have all day," Long said, looking Brianna up and down in cool appraisal.
"No," Brianna replied, her tone defiant and firm.
Long shrugged. "That's all right. I'm sure my buddy will give you a hand when he comes back."
Brianna swallowed nervously. "What are you going to do to us?"
Long's face darkened as he turned the gun toward Jenny. The girl flinched and whimpered, looking away with dread.
"Strip or I'll put a bullet in the school girl's knee," he told Brianna.
Brianna didn't know if he was bluffing or not. Her father once told her not to assume anything when it came to criminals. They were capable of anything. "All right," she heard herself say, "Just don't hurt the girl."
Brianna sighed and began unbuttoning her uniform shirt, wondering if something like this had ever happened to her father?
Detective Rachel Graham tugged and squirmed against her bonds . . . to no avail. Though the bindings were simple, they were extremely tight and effective. The statuesque detective was lying on her stomach atop a wooden coffee table. Her wrists were bound behind her back with her own handcuffs. Her ankles were crossed and bound together with cord. A short piece of the same cord attached her bent legs to her bound wrists, leaving the detective in a loose though effective hogtie.
If that wasn't humiliating enough, a red ball-gag was stuffed in her mouth, wedged between her perfect teeth and buckled tight behind her head. The bitter tasting rubber ball not only kept the detective silent but it was painful as well. Her jaw ached and she was beginning to drool. She grunted and wiggled on the coffee table, fighting her bondage with everything she had, which after two hours, wasn't much.
While Rachel could handle being helplessly bound and gagged, she had another pressing issue to deal with. The cool wooden surface of the coffee table against her stomach and breasts reminded the detective that she was completely naked. Before being bound, she had been forced to strip. There was no reason for that other than to humiliate her further, which it did.
Suddenly, attempting to arrest a drug smuggling suspect on her own without backup did not seem like a good idea after all. At the moment she was alone. The "thug" had left her in the living room, saying he had something that she would really enjoy. Whatever it was, Rachel doubted she would enjoy it. She once again cursed herself for coming here alone and continued struggling.
She ceased squirming when she heard approaching footsteps. Her breathing was ragged and her entire body glistened with a shiny layer of perspiration. Disheveled and loose strands of dark hair fell around her straining face and eyes. She yelped with surprise when she felt a hard swat on the side of her taut backside.
A man of medium height and weight stepped in front of the bound detective. He was clean cut and wore only a pair of jeans and heavy boots. His buffed upper body complimented a handsome though intense face. Tattoos decorated each of his muscular upper arms.
Rachel's eyes filled with dread when she spotted the black leather strap the man held. A phallic-shaped black plug jutted out from the middle of the strap. "Think you can handle this, detective?" he said, showing her the gag "Not so tough and mighty now are we . . . detective?"
Rachel flinched and glared defiantly at the man. "MMMPHH!" she cursed through the ball-gag.
The man chuckled. "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."
Rachel sighed and looked away.
Suddenly, the phone rang.
The ringing startled both the man and Rachel. He stared at the phone on the end table next to the couch but made no move to pick it up. It rang three more times before Rachel stared at the man and grunted through the ball-gag, gesturing empathically toward the phone with her head.
The man frowned and exhaled. "Oh, all right. Hold on." He stepped toward the phone and picked it up. "Yeah?" After a short pause he turned to Rachel and flashed a knowing grin. "Sorry, but Detective Graham is tied up the moment. Can I take a message?" Another pause followed before the man said, "Detective Price from Palm City. Got it. I'll tell her . . ."
Upon hearing the name Rachel moaned and went into a fit of frenzied struggling.
"Hold on," the man said into the phone. "Detective Graham just walked in."
He walked over to Rachel, placed the phone down, and reached behind her head to unbuckle the ball-gag strap. Rachel sighed with relief as he pulled the saliva-covered rubber ball from her mouth. She glared menacingly at her captor as she worked her jaw and gasped for air. He ignored her harsh stare and raised the phone to her ear.
"Detective Graham speaking," Rachel said, doing her best to sound normal.
Rachel and the Palm City detective had a lengthy conversation regarding her request for information on the finger prints from the Shop n' Save convenience store. Once the call ended she glared at her "captor." Her boyfriend's love of bondage was, at times, a bit too much for her. Ray really got off on the fact that she hated being tied up. According to him, it made it even more real.
While she had known Raymond Quinn for more than six months, it was only recently that he had expressed his devotion to bondage. Rachel had regarded it as abnormal, deviant behavior, but Ray was certainly not a freak. He was a well-adjusted insurance agent who got off on tying up women.
At first, Rachel had refused to play his perverted little bondage games. Then three weeks ago--after several rounds of drinks--she agreed to indulge her boyfriend's fantasy. Afterwards, the sex had been amazing! Certainly the best she had ever had. Maybe this bondage thing wasn't so bad after all? Sure, she felt helpless and humiliated but the end result was well worth it.
The current game had come about after Rachel revealed to Ray what had happened to Sheriff Derringer at the Shop n' Save convenience store. He had listened with perverted glee as she told him the more intimate details of Kat's ordeal which only Rachel herself was privy to. He had, of courses, sworn not to tell anyone, but Rachel still felt uneasy after his promise. After she had finished recanting the tale they had great sex. They then devised (actually Ray devised) a quick little role playing game in which she was the beautiful but naive DEA agent and Ray was the dangerous drug-dealer.
"So I take it the game's over?" Ray said.
"Un-cuff me," the beautiful detective said. "I have to get back to work. I only have an hour lunch."
A mischievous look appeared on Ray's face. "What if I don't?"
Rachel glared at her boyfriend. "Ray," she warned.
Ray disregarded her warning and crossed his arms. "If you want me to untie you you'll have to do something for me."
"Ray," Rachel warned again with even more conviction. "I don't have time for this." She rattled the handcuffs behind her back. "Let me go. Now!"
"As I was saying," Ray said, stepping directly in front of Rachel. "If you want to be freed you'll have to . . . service me."
"Damn it, Ray!" Rachel exclaimed. "I'm not kidding around. Let me go!" She watched with apprehension as Ray raised the black gag toward her mouth. "What are you doing?"
"You're not going anywhere until I say so," Ray told her. "Now, open wide."
Rachel turned her head away from the gag. "You bastard! I told you I don't want to play anymore. I'm going to be late for work!"
Ray said nothing as he gripped Rachel's chin and forced the phallic-shaped gag past her lips and into her protesting mouth. Rachel's eyes widened with outrage as the disgusting object filled her mouth. She shook her head and tried to eject the gag from her mouth as Ray buckled the strap behind her head.
"That should keep you quiet," he said proudly. "Wouldn't want to disturb the neighbors, would we? Besides, I gotta an errand to run. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, detective. Have fun."
Rachel glared at her soon to be ex-boyfriend and screamed. "Mmmphhh!"
A bout of desperate struggling and fierce grunting ensued as Rachel cried out her displeasure at being left bound and gagged.
Ray ignored her cries and walked out of the living room.
Rachel shook her head and exhaled. This was too much. Ray had finally snapped. He had crossed the line. But what could she do? Nothing but lay there and fume. And that's exactly what she did until Ray returned twenty minutes later. She kept track of the time by glancing at the wall clock in the living room, her fury growing with each passing minute.
Rachel shot daggers at Ray with her eyes as he reached inside his pocket and pulled a pocket knife. He released her from the hogtie and cut her ankle bonds. He then produced the handcuff keys and unlocked the handcuffs.
As soon as she was free, Rachel reached up and tried to unbuckle the strap that held the disgusting gag in her mouth. Given her agitation and unfamiliarity with the object, it took her some time before she finally undid the gag and pulled out the plug from her mouth.
"You son of a bitch! We're done, Ray!" Rachel gasped, getting to her feet. "We are so done it's not even funny!"
Ray took Rachel in his arms and pressed his mouth against her lips, kissing her passionately and with authority. Rachel moaned with protest and tried to pull away but his grip was too firm. Before being aware of it, Rachel responded to Ray's probing mouth. Her resistance slowly dissipated and her mouth sought his. Soon they were kissing with equal passion, locked in a tight embrace.
Rachel's outrage and Ray's arousal ignited an intense combination of sexual energy. They fell to the floor wrapped in each other's arms and continued their reckless encounter. Any thought Rachel had entertained about dumping Ray was wiped away in the midst of the sexual wave she was currently riding.
Though Brianna had an extensive law enforcement training background, including her father's worldly advice, nothing in that training could get her out of this humiliating ordeal. The attractive sheriff's deputy was tightly bound and gagged, laying on her stomach in a bed next to Jenny Kresser. The two young women were in Joanna Kresser's bedroom, tied with thin but sturdy cord that the four men had brought along with them. Brianna found it odd that the men would walk around carrying what seemed like an endless supply of rope and duct tape, but they did.
Brianna and Jenny had their wrists securely bound behind their backs. More rope was lashed around their torsos below and above their breasts, pinning their arms against their bodies. Another length of cord was tied around their waists. The loose end of the waist rope passed between their legs and up their backsides before it was anchored to their bound wrists. This ensured that their hands would stay in place, not to mention the discomfort of the cord digging into their nether regions. After a while, however, Brianna realized the crotch rope was not all that bad.
Their legs were bound at the knees and ankles with more unyielding cord. Brianna still had her shoes and uniform pants on. Well, that was not entirely accurate. Her uniform pants, gun belt and all, were bunched down around her ankles, leaving her clad in just a pair of revealing purple boy-shorts. While Brianna's underwear offered some protection from the crotch rope, Jenny Kresser was not as fortunate. The teenaged girl sported just a pair of thin pink panties under her pleaded skirt.
Brianna's tank-top had been cut away, leaving her topless. She had blushed with embarrassment and her eyes burned with outrage as she cursed and threatened the two men, who responded by laughing at her. They then "punished" her for the outburst by bending her over the bed and taking turns spanking her backside. Brianna could only seethe and pant with humiliation. While she had no idea who the men were or what they wanted she vowed revenge.
Brianna's bound legs were then bent back toward her backside. A short length of cord connected her wrists to her ankles, leaving the semi-naked deputy in a strict hogtie. She couldn't help being impressed with the overall job the two men had done on her and Jenny. This was by no means that phony bondage she had seen on dopey TV detective shows while growing up. No, this was the real thing. These ropes were tight and cruelly digging into her flesh. These ropes were meant to keep her and Jenny Kresser from doing anything or going anywhere. Brianna also knew there was no hero cop coming to rescue them . . . or was there?
Not only were she and Jenny expertly trussed up, but they were also tightly gagged. The two men had ripped apart a pillow case into thick, long strips. They had searched Joanna Kresser's dresser drawers and produced several pairs of panties in various colors and styles. After some coaxing and threats of more spankings, the men forced two pairs of brightly-colored bikini style panties into Brianna's mouth.
The young deputy had retched and heaved with disgust at having her mouth filled with a strange woman's underwear, but she settled down and managed not to throw up. Jenny Kresser suffered the safe fate as Brianna but the girl accepted her gag with less disgust. The two young women were then cleaved-gagged with thick strips of torn pillow case material. The cloths were cinched tight between their lips and tied behind her heads with such ferocity that it distorted their faces.
Brianna took small comfort in the fact that Jenny had not been forced to strip. Maybe because she was dressed in the school girl outfit, which she heard men really liked. That was actually more disturbing and made the situation even desperate.
At the moment the two young women were now alone in the bedroom, lying on their sides, facing in opposite directions from each other. Brianna guessed this had been intentional on the part of their captors to make it even more difficult for her and Jenny free each other. A few minutes after the men departed, Brianna and Jenny had struggled valiantly against their bindings. As expected, no amount of wiggling and tugging proved effective. They were simply tied too tight.
Jenny Kresser, however, was not yet ready to accept that harsh fact. Brianna watched, riveted, as the teenaged girl thrashed about on the bed in a futile effort to break free. The girl heaved and pulled at her unyielding ropes with such vigor and determination that it made Brianna tired just watching her. Jenny's facial contortions were fascinating to observe. Her sharp moaning and grunting would have given any adult movie soundtrack a run for its money.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the girl gave up and lay exhausted on the bed. She was still tightly bound and gagged, except that now she was panting wildly. Beads of perspiration ran down the sides of her face and strands of blonde hair fell over her cheeks where the gag dug into the sides of her mouth. Her short pleaded skirt, which was rucked up by the crotch rope to begin with, was now well past her hips and around her waist, giving anyone who bothered to look a peek at her pink panties. Brianna felt sorry for the girl, who at the moment had more pressing problems than the fact that was playing hookie from school.
Of course Brianna herself was not exactly better off. She was a sheriff's deputy intrusted with protecting the public and keeping law and order. And now here she was, trussed up, gagged, with her boobs hanging out, and her uniform pants down around her ankles. She must look like the world's dumbest cop. Her police detective father would probably not feel very proud of her now. After Brianna became a deputy he had bragged to anyone who would listen that his daughter was a chip of the old block. It was only a matter of time before she became sheriff. Given her current predicament, Brianna wondered if that would ever be the case.
Bastards! The attractive deputy cursed at the men. She was not about to allow them to get away with this. She vowed to make her father proud. She had not become a deputy to get captured, stripped, and tied up by two-bit thugs. She was going break loose and kick some ass. She bit hard into the gag, tasting the panties stuffed in her mouth, and resumed struggling, determined to make good on her vow.
Detective Rachel Graham walked into Kat's office fifteen minutes late from her lunch break. Though Kat had a thing about her employees being on time, she let it slide. It was her way of trying to build her relationship with the enigmatic detective, who Kat virtually knew nothing about. Rachel Graham showed up, did her job, and went home. That was it.
"Joseph Montoya and Maxwell Long," Rachel told Kat without a preamble. "Those are the names of the two men who . . . ambushed you and robbed the convenience store. Palm City detectives got a hit on them. They're a couple of petty thieves with long rap sheets but nothing as big as armed robbery."
Kat nodded. "Maybe they've just never been caught."
"That's possible," Rachel said, handing Kat two file folders. "Anyway, here's their records and mug shots. We should give their pictures to the local newspaper and TV station."
"I'll take care of that," Kat said, opening the first folder. Inside was the picture of the man known as Maxwell Long, the same man who had . . . fondled her in the side room of the convenience store. He appeared younger and thinner but the eyes were a dead giveaway. Kat almost seethed as she stared at the photo. "Thanks," she finally said.
"I wonder what they were doing here?" Rachel asked. "Dorado City isn't exactly a gold mine for criminal opportunity."
Kat looked up at the detective. "Maybe they were just passing by?"
"In that's case, they're probably long gone by now."
"I've already given their descriptions to the other county sheriffs and state police," Kat said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. "I'll get Alison to fax them their mug shots."
At that moment, Kat's phone rang. "Excuse me," she told Rachel. It was Rubi Hidalgo, the day shift dispatcher. "What is it, Rubi?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, sheriff," Rubi said, sounding every bit as young as her twenty-two years, "but I can't reach Deputy Lockwood. She isn't answering her radio."
This got Kat's immediate attention. "Was she responding to a call?"
"No, sheriff," came Rubi's response. "She was on her break, but that was like five hours ago. She hasn't checked in since."
"Have you tried her home phone?"
"Yes," Rubi said, sounding worried. "I didn't get answer either."
"Keep trying to reach her," Kat said, starting to worry herself. "Let me know when you get a hold of her." Kat hung up the phone and stared at Rachel. "It seems Brianna has gone AWOL."
The two women shared a look of concern. Had Deputy Lockwood's sudden disappearance happened anytime besides now, it would not have been a big deal, but the probability that there could be two dangerous criminals loose in Dorado City was enough to raise a red flag, at least in Kat's mind.
"Should we go look for her?" Rachel asked.
Kat shook her head. "I'm sure she'll turn up soon. Still, it won't hurt to look. After I take care of some business, I'll join the search party."
Detective Graham nodded and walked out of Kat's office. Once she was alone, Kat's sighed with exasperation. She had a gut feeling that Brianna's disappearance was not so innocent. This is all I need, she thought bitterly.
Joanna Kresser's once neat and clean house now resembled the aftermath of a tornado or some other natural disaster. Once Long and Montoya had secured Brianna and Jenny in the bedroom, the four men had engaged in a thorough search of the entire house, looking for any clues that the late Jack Kresser might have left regarding the diamonds or the $5 million. Their search only revealed that Jack Kresser was a huge Clint Eastwood fan. The attic contained an extensive collection of Eastwood's movie posters, books, and tapes. The four men now stood in the living room, empty-handed, frustrated, and desperate.
"All right," Radford said. "Long and I will take Mrs. Kresser over to Palm City and search the apartment she mentioned. Stiles and Montoya will stay here and keep an eye on the deputy and the girl." Radford glared at Montoya. "And now rough stuff while I'm gone. Got that?"
"Don't worry," Montoya said. "I can wait."
"I think we should move the deputy and the girl," Stiles chimed in. "It's only a matter of time before other cops come looking for her. For all we know she called it in. Cops could be on their way here right now."
Long stared at Stiles. "What's the matter, Stiles? Can't handle a few small town cops?"
Stiles made a move toward Long but Radford stopped him with a shake of his head.
"Where are you gonna take them?" Radford asked.
"I say we get another motel room somewhere," Stiles said.
"Fine," Radford agreed. "Just make sure they don't get away."
"You don't have to worry about that," Montoya said, grinning.
Deputy Marlon Galindo bit into his cheeseburger and glanced about the nearly empty café. The deputy was sitting at the counter, having a late lunch at Rosalba's Café. The lunch rush had ended and the once chaotic café was now peaceful and quiet. The café was owned by his wife's parents and Rosalba, his wife of five years, had recently taken over the daily operations of the establishment. The café was named after her, so what she supposed to do? Good thing his wife was a great cook and liked the restaurant business.
"How's your burger?" Rosalba asked.
Galindo turned to face his wife, who stood on the other side of the counter in front of him. He still could not believe how beautiful she was. He was especially fond of her thick dark hair, which framed a gorgeous face with large brown eyes and the most sensuous mouth he had ever seen on a woman. Then there was her shapely figure with its feminine curves and the swell of her prominent breasts. Being Valentine's Days, she sported a form-fitting red dress that showcased her luscious body. Not bad at all, Galindo thought.
"Best burgers in the universe," he said with his mouthful.
"I was going to fix you something special but I think you can wait until tonight," Rosalba said. She leaned closer. "I'll give you a hint: I'm wearing your present under my dress."
Galindo sopped chewing and stared at his wife. Despite his name (Marlon), which his father--a huge Marlon Brando fan--had foolishly picked out, life was good for Deputy Galindo. He had a great job and a beautiful wife. Who said you couldn't have it all? Of course the novelty of their marriage had worn off and it was time for phase two. Their friends, his in-laws, and his own parents were anxiously awaiting the arrival of children, which had not happened yet. It wasn't for lack of trying, and Galindo began to worry.
He swallowed and smiled. "Too bad I'm on duty or I'd take you in the back and . . ."
"Marlon," Rosalba warned as one of the waitress walked past them.
Without missing a beat Galindo said, "Ever thought of franchising? I can already see a Rosalba's in every town. You can be like the Colonel, only instead of chicken you would specialize in hamburgers and Mexican food. Of course The Colonel has nothing on you in terms of looks, especially in the leg department."
"I'm glad to hear that," Rosalba said gamely. "Especially when you consider that he's been dead for more than twenty years."
Galindo and Rosalba turned their attention down the counter where a young waitress stood. Though Galindo did not make it a priority to learn the names of his wife's employees, it was hard not to remember this particular girl. Kylie was blonde, shapely, and extremely attractive. She was a junior in college and spending her summer working at the café.
"Yes," Galindo replied. "Kylie, isn't it?"
The girl nodded and smiled, flattered that he had remembered her name. "That's right," she said, tucking her pad and pencil into her utility apron, which did not completely conceal a pair of tanned, shapely legs clad in khaki shorts. "Can I talk to you about something?"
Galindo gave Rosalba a side glance, as if making sure it was all right. She almost smiled at his display of typical male insecurity and nodded slightly.
"What is it?" Galindo asked the pretty waitress.
The girl shifted awkwardly. "Ummm . . . maybe it's nothing but I saw and heard something weird today when I was serving breakfast to these four guys."
Galindo shifted in his stool until he faced the girl. "What did you see?"
"Well, I overheard these four guys arguing about something," Kylie said. "I couldn't really hear what it was about." She glanced at Rosalba. "I don't usually go around eavesdropping, but these guys were just so weird. Two of them were dressed in black and they looked . . . I don't know . . . dangerous. They weren't locals that's for sure. One of them even made a pass at me. Can you believe that? The guy was old . . . like thirty-five or something."
Ouch! Galindo thought. I'm thirty-four. Crap. "What did you hear?"
"I heard one of them saying that they were going to pay some guy named Kresser a house call, and something about 'killing the bastard.'" Kylie's face filled with worry. "I wasn't really sure what to make of it, but it's been bothering me all day."
Galindo stared at his wife. Six months ago, a newspaper reporter named Joanna Kresser had written a story about Rosalba's grandparents, about how they had come from Mexico with nothing and now owned Dorado City's best café. Of course Galindo was also aware that Joanna Kresser's husband had been killed in a car accident three months ago. He had been given the task of informing Joanna Kresser that her husband was dead. If what Kylie was saying was true, something weird was definitely going on.
Galindo nodded at the girl. "Thanks, Kylie. I'll definitely look into it."
The girl turned and walked away, relieved.
"What do you think?" Rosalba asked, concerned.
Galindo shrugged. "Maybe it's nothing but I'll check it out anyway."
"Be careful," Rosalba said.
Galindo smiled at his wife.
Joanna Kresser's jeep sped along the single lane road that led away from Dorado City and toward Palm City. Inside the vehicle were three occupants. Joanna was sitting in the back seat, bound hand and foot, watching helplessly as Radford and Long drove her away from her home and daughter, in search of some nonexistent safe. She had lied to protect her daughter but now she was terrified as to what would happen when the men found that there was no safe in her old apartment.
She had to find a way to escape and get help. These men were probably capable of anything. She had tried to offer them money but they laughed at the amount she could produce, which was well short of the ten million dollars they were after. Joanna had bought herself time, now she had to use it . . . for her daughter's sake.
Deputy Lindy Derringer drove her patrol car along a back road in the outskirts of Dorado City. She had just responded to a trespassing call, which had turned out to be nothing. A drifter had decided to take a shortcut to the main freeway by crossing over private property. Lindy had picked up the man and driven him to the main road, letting him off with a warning. Now she was on her way back, using a shortcut that would take her back to town faster.
As she neared the interstate freeway, a jeep flew by in front of her. There was no question that the jeep was exceeding the speed limit. Lindy sped up and went after the jeep. She drove onto the main freeway and turned on her siren and lights.
"Shit!" Long said, pounding the steering wheel when she spotted the patrol car behind him.
"Idiot!" Radford told him, glancing back at the wailing patrol car. "I knew you were speeding. Now what?"
"I'll handle this," Long said, slowing down. "Just shut up and stay out of the way."
"What are you going to do?" Radford asked. "I already told you, no rough stuff."
"Shut up!" Long snapped. He pulled onto the shoulder and reached inside his jacket. He drew his gun and stared at the image of Joanna in the rearview mirror. "You try or say anything and I'll put a bullet through your knee. Remember that we have your pretty daughter."
Joanna remained still, though her breathing quickened. She fought the urge to glance back at the police car and looked straight ahead. This was her big chance. She had to do something.
All was silent as Radford and Long waited for the cop to approach the jeep.
Lindy exited the patrol car and made her way toward the jeep. She could see maybe three passengers inside. Though she was sure this was a routine traffic stop, she approached with caution. She could see the face of a baldheaded man in the side mirror of the jeep. He sported sunglasses and was looking straight ahead.
As she approached the back window, she noticed something strange. A woman was sitting in the back seat of the jeep with her arms behind her back . . . like they were tied. Lindy paused for a closer look. The woman suddenly turned toward Lindy, her face desperate and pleading. Lindy did not see the front passenger door open until it was too late.
With blinding speed, the baldheaded man darted out of the jeep and raised a gun at Lindy. Her stomach contracted and gasped with shock, expecting the man to fire.
"Don't move!" the baldheaded man shouted at Lindy.
Lindy raised her hands, staring fixedly at the gun. Her heart hammered away and a chill ran down her spine. Her breathing deteriorated into sharp gasps. This was no routine traffic stop.
"What are you doing?" Lindy managed to say.
"Shut up!" the baldheaded man said. Without taking his eyes off the young deputy he said, "Get out here and give me a hand!"
The front passenger door opened and Lindy spotted another man exit the jeep. He was older and smaller than his companion and sported round-framed glasses. This was not good, the deputy thought as the odds against her mounted. Her head spun with confusion and fear.
The older man came around the back of the jeep and frowned when he spotted Lindy. "Oh, shit," he muttered.
The baldheaded man chuckled as he approached Lindy. "We're batting a thousand. Another hot female cop. It's like a wet dream come true."
The older man glared at his companion and looked about nervously. "This is just great! What are we going to do with her?"
"First," the baldheaded man said, "Take her gun."
The older man made his way behind Lindy and reached for her holstered service weapon.
"Whoever you are this is not a good idea," Lindy warned.
"Shut it, baby," the baldheaded man said, looking Lindy up and down with appraisal. "I definitely should have gone into law enforcement."
The older man removed Lindy's gun and once again looked around, clearly uneasy with the turn of events. "Hurry up and do what you're going to do before someone comes by."
The baldheaded man handed his gun to his friend. "Here. Keep her covered. Shoot her if she tries anything."
The baldheaded man stepped toward Lindy and removed the handcuffs from her utility belt. He stepped behind the deputy and gathered her arms behind her back. Lindy's heart rate increased when she felt her own handcuffs being tightened around her wrists.
"Assaulting a police officer is a serious offense," she said, fighting to remain calm. "Stop this before-"
The baldheaded man gripped her chin, forcing her mouth into a pucker. "One more word out of you and I'll stuff something in that pretty mouth of yours. Got it?"
Lindy did not reply, not that she could. Her fear shot up a notch when the man touched her. She knew the best course of action was to do what he wanted . . . for now.
The baldheaded man released Lindy and shoved her toward her patrol car. He turned and addressed the older man. "Get back in the jeep and follow me."
"You're taking the patrol car?" the older man asked. "Are you insane? Where are you taking her?"
"Just follow me."
The man opened the driver's side of the patrol car and shoved Lindy inside, forcing her to sit on the passenger side. Lindy did not like where this was going. At first she had worried that the men would lock her in the trunk of the patrol car but now it appeared they had other plans for her. Then again, maybe they still were going to lock her in the truck where she would probably suffocate before anyone found her. Her panic swelled as she contemplated her fate.
The baldheaded man got behind the wheel and drove back unto the road. He made a tight U-turn and headed back toward Dorado City. Lindy watched anxiously as he picked up speed. She thought about asking him where he was taking her and what he was going to do with her but change her mind. Deep inside she deduced that she was better off not knowing.
The man drove until he reached the dirt road Lindy had been on when she had spotted the speeding jeep. He slowed down and turned down the road, which led to the Silver Horshoe Ranch where Lindy had responded to the trespassing incident. The man glanced in the rearview mirror, making sure the jeep was following him.
Lindy swallowed, finding her throat and mouth extremely dry. She was about to point out that the man was committing a capital crime by kidnaping a law enforcement officer, but that would probably only antagonize him. These men were obviously hiding something that was worth all this.
The man finally pulled over on the side of dirt road and drove the patrol car behind some bushes. He turned off the engine and glanced at Lindy. He flashed a wicked smile and exited the car. He quickly came around to the passenger side and opened the door. He pulled Lindy out of the car and held her by her shoulders, waiting for his friend in the jeep to arrive.
Lindy's initial fear finally began to dissipate. "You're not going to get away with this," she said boldly, squirming in the man's grasp.
The man chuckled. "Maybe. Maybe not. But that's not going to stop me from having some fun with you first."
Panic surged through Lindy like ice water. Like a cornered animal, she struck out, snapping her head back against the man's face. Since he stood taller than the deputy, Lindy's head connected with his jaw! That was enough for the man to loosen his grip on her. He grunted and grabbed his chin. Lindy wiggled loose and bolted away from the man.
With her heart pounding and her head spinning, Lindy ran toward the dirt road, not really caring where she was going. The action had been strictly a spur of the moment thing and the attractive deputy had no idea what to do next. Had her arms been free, she would have used her self-defense moves against her captor.
She heard the man running after her. He wasn't angry or cursing but was instead laughing. That terrified Lindy even more. With her arms cuffed behind her back, she found it difficult to run effectively. As she darted across the dirt road she spotted the approaching jeep carrying the other man. She veered to the other side of the road and ran into the bushes. Her legs churned frantically as she wove around shrubs and trees.
She could hear the man coming after her, crashing through the bushes, still laughing. Unfortunately, Lindy's forward momentum was too much. She tripped over a rock and lost her balance. She stumbled forward and crashed against the ground on her stomach. She uttered a painful grunt and felt the wind leave her body. She was unable to move and simply lay there, panting and gasping.
The man finally caught up to her and stood over prone body. "You bad girl," he taunted. "Now I'm gonna have to punish you."
He bent over and pulled Lindy to her feet. She was too weak and exhausted to resist as he threw her over his shoulder and carried her back toward the dirt road. Lindy suddenly felt his hand on her backside! He pinched and fondled her as he held her legs with his other arm.
Lindy's eyes widened and her face filled with outrage. "You bastard!" she cursed, wiggling helplessly over his broad shoulder. "Take your hands off me!"
The man chuckled and planted a playful though harsh swat on her firm rear. "It's your fault for having a perfect ass."
Lindy fumed and continued squirming. "You're going to pay for this! My sister's the sheriff!"
"No, shit?" the man asked, intrigued. He then burst out laughing. "Oh, yeah, I've met your sister. We did a number on her in that convenience store. But that's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you."
With that, he slapped Lindy's shapely ass yet again.
Oh, my God! Lindy thought with alarm when she heard the man's confession regarding Kat. She finally realized that she was in big trouble, and there was nothing she could do about it but squirm and wiggle.
The man continued spanking Lindy all the way back to the dirt road. By that time her ass was burning and she had unleashed a string of curses that would have made her late father blush. She had never been humiliated like this and knew it was only going to get worse.
"You son of a bitch!" Lindy cursed, seething after the eighth swat on her backside. "You're committing assault and battery on a police officer. You're going to get it big time!"
"In that case," the man said, "I better get my money's worth."
He stopped and delivered three consecutive and hard swats on Lindy's backside. The thin material of her uniform pants (and the fact that she sported thong underwear) did little to cushion the blows.
Lindy panted and shrieked, trembling with outrage. She had used up all the curse words and was reduced to muttering threats under her breath. What have I gotten myself into? She wondered with mounting dread.
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