Hi, As I can’t get an editor, probably because I’m not very good, I thought I’d post this on here for somebody to tear apart, if they wish. It’s intended for the non-erotic section as the emphases is not really on sex but control. Let me know what you think and whether I should submit it. Ray
THE CALLER
Carla pushed herself further into the corner of the closet, her hands clamped tightly over her ears to block out the incessant ringing of the phone. She knew she should have unplugged it, but to feel alone, isolated, seemed somehow worse; and if he did break in she would be at his mercy.
* * * * *
Someone had advised her to fit additional locks onto her front door, and the mixture of five locks and bolts had reassured her for a while. That was until she timed how long it would take her to get out, if he was already inside, waiting for her. As the seconds turned into minutes she realized she wasn’t only locking him out, but herself in.
The calls had started about a month previously, the first two being silent. She dismissed them as being wrong numbers and the caller not wishing to speak or admit their mistake; but the third was different. She could hear him breathing at first; then panting. It didn’t take much imagination to know what he was doing as he listened to her pleas for him to speak.
For a while she wondered if it was Steve, an old boyfriend. When he started university they attempted to keep the relationship alive by indulging in a few steamy phone sex sessions. At first she had been embarrassed by explaining what she was doing with the seven inch vibrator he had bought for her, even lying at times when she wasn’t really in the mood, but still enjoying listening to him getting more and more aroused. At its peak he would call every night about ten, both of them settling down into their respective beds, naked, but as time went by the hard, fake cock seemed a poor substitute for the real thing and their relationship faded and died.
But this wasn’t Steve.
He would never say the things this caller said to her. Steve never called her ‘a cunt’ or that ‘he’d fuck her arse till she bled’ . . . no, this wasn’t Steve, but whom?
Someone who’d seen her, that was obvious. How else could he describe her so accurately? And that made it worse. She could deal with some anonymous caller, asking ‘what colour panties she wore’ or if she was ‘wearing a bra’ but this guy really seemed to know what she looked like, or did he?
‘Small, with long dark hair’ could have been a guess? Couldn’t it? He never said that he knew where she lived or called her by name. Was he just a random caller, probably living miles, maybe hundreds, away? Or was he in the next apartment, waiting until she let her guard down . . . waiting to pounce?
The police had been little help, and the embarrassment of recounting the obscenities to a young police officer was, in some ways, worse than the calls had been. It felt as if she was trying to turn him on, and when he stood up later to leave she could swear he had a bulge in the front of his trousers. All this endured because the only policewoman on duty was unavailable with a rape victim and, for a while, she wondered if the next victim would be her.
They advised her to change her telephone number which helped for a short time but somehow he discovered it, and his first call afterwards was worse than the original calls had been. Violence had crept into them. Fucking her and cumming into her mouth had paled into insignificance in comparison to the things he said he would do to her in the later calls.
* * * * *
The ringing stopped, but her relief turned to even greater panic. Was he coming for her now because she hadn’t answered his call? Was he ascending the stairs, the knife he promised to use on her, in his hand? Why the fuck didn’t she just answer him? What harm would it do to engage in a little dirty talk, after all, she’d done it before? Tell him she’d suck his cock and swallow his cum, tell him anything, keep his fantasy going, as long as he didn’t come here to her apartment. She could listen to him wank, play along with him until he climaxed. Then he’d go away and leave her alone for a while. Most men lose interest once they’d cum, she knew that. But now where was he? Outside the door? Unzipping? Getting his cock out, rubbing it, getting it ready to fuck her raw, like he said?
Maybe if she banged on the closet wall the guy next door would come and save her? No . . . that would tell her potential rapist where she was hiding, and what if it was him? It could be him. He seemed friendly enough but what if it was all a ruse? Get her to let her guard down? Maybe even to invite him in to protect her then he’d pounce. Pin her to the bed and slice off her clothes, fuck her hard, dry . . . she could almost feel him inside her, the pain as his cock rammed into her. His strong arms flipping her over and his cock pausing momentarily at her anus before ripping viciously inside her..
Fuck it, STOP, STOP, STOP.
This was stupid, she thought, allowing him to dominate her like this. Tomorrow I’ll go back to the police and ask them to protect her, no . . . demand that they protect her. A taxpayer has that right, doesn’t she?
Carla emerged slowly from the closet and quietly crept from room to room until she was convinced the apartment was empty. Her apartment, her home. What had once been so welcoming had now taken on a sinister edge. How could everything change so rapidly and so completely? Her refuge from her day to day mundane life had become both a prison and a castle, depending on the mood she was in, but not a home, and she wondered if it could ever be a home for her again. What right had he to do this? Fear and timidity changed to anger and resentment. She would find him eventually and when she did Carla swore that she would make sure he never did this to anyone else.
On her second visit to the police station she was determined; no more male officers and Carla was in luck. She was shown into an interview room and within a few minutes Emily entered. Emily was the exact opposite of Carla, tall and intimidating, someone even the males would not want to mess with, and as the interview progressed Carla desperately wished she was more like Emily. This wasn’t a girl who would cower in a closet or barricade herself in. Here was someone who could really take care of herself.
“There’s very little chance that he would come to your apartment even if he did know where you live,” Emily said, after hearing Carla’s account of the calls and her subsequent actions. “These are guys with small dicks who can only intimidate girls over the phone; if you came face to face with him you’d wonder why you’d been so afraid.”
Carla smiled for the first time in weeks and nodded, albeit hesitantly. “You’re probably right, but there’s still that remote possibility that he could know me isn’t there?”
“Yes, there is that chance and you should take care, but don’t let this rule your life. Take control. We have a special constable in the area that specialises in community policing. I could ask him to keep an eye on the apartment and call in occasionally to make sure you’re okay, if you want. I realise letting a man in won’t be your preferred option but, to be honest, it’s the best we can do. I take it you don’t want to move?”
“Oh, I want to move alright, but I can’t afford it and that would be letting him drive me out, wouldn’t it?”
“True, but the option is there. Do you want me to organise everything and ring you? I know your new number’s in our files.”
After agreeing Carla left, slightly more reassured than before, but still realising that for the majority of the time she would be alone.
Her apartment still felt cold and uninviting as she entered, and Carla wondered if she would ever feel truly safe here again.
She spent most of the evening sitting next to the window looking down into the street below and wondering if Emily would keep her promise. It was about nine o’clock when she saw a solitary figure walking slowly up the street glancing occasionally into the shop windows as he passed. When he was illuminated by a street lamp she could see his uniform and at the same instant he looked up at her and waved. He looked young, almost as if he should still be in school, but many policemen looked like that, she decided. And, like Emily, not someone to mess with.
After smiling broadly up at her he continued walking and disappeared into the shadows. Carla relaxed and looked at the piece of paper in her hand. On it was written the constable’s cell phone number. “Ring him any time,” Emily had said, as she left, and for a few seconds she was tempted. Maybe tomorrow, Carla thought, in case this is just a one off.
It was two days before she called him, as he walked below her window, and another two before he entered her apartment. In that time she had only one call and by now she was gaining in confidence, but only for a very short while.
She had just settled down with a new novel when the phone rang and instead of being fearful she was, for the first time, only annoyed.
“Have you missed me?” she heard him say with that awful, tinny voice that was so obviously electronically disguised.
Carla remained calm, as Emily had instructed her. “No, should I have?” she responded.
“If you’d ever had my nine inch cock up you, you would.”
“But that’s never going to happen, is it. The best you can hope for is to stand in some kiosk somewhere, or is it a cell phone this time, with your cock out wanking like a fourteen year old school boy behind the bike sheds.”
“Fuck you!”
Carla laughed. A little nervously, but still a mocking laugh.
“What’s the matter? Have I hit a nerve there? Are you wanking or has it gone soft on you? Has that nine inches shrivelled up, not as hard as it was? I bet it’s lying limp, like a little slug. Ever had a woman, you little shit, or is this all your sex life consists of, calling random numbers until a woman answers then wanking off to her voice?”
“How do you know it’s random, bitch? How do you know I don’t know you? I could be watching you right now.”
Carla’s blood ran cold. She didn’t know really. He could be watching? Fuck, the curtain was still open, she realised, and hastily shut out the street below before waiting to hear his response.
“I could be across the street, waiting until you go to bed, then slip in through all those locks you no doubt have fitted. Creep into your bedroom and watch you lying naked. A few seconds and you’d be spread-eagled for me. If you’re good I may keep you for a few hours, I bet you’d fuck like a rabbit when you’re frightened, just to stay alive.”
He paused, waiting for Carla’s response, but Carla had frozen by now and she heard him chuckle.
“What’s the matter? Not as cocky now are we?”
Carla couldn’t answer, the lump in her throat felt like an apple stuck there.
“It’s okay. I’ve cum now, but we’ll have more friendly chats later. Or would you like to invite me round? You’d enjoy it, I’m sure. Ever been fucked up the arse or will I be the first for that pleasure? Well, I’ll no doubt find out. Speak to you again soon . . . pleasant dreams.”
She heard a click then the phone went dead. The tears flowed uncontrollably. How could anyone do this to a fellow human being, she thought, but at least she had her protector now.
Barry was better than she could ever have hoped, attentive, considerate and above all, sympathetic. From the first time they met she felt at ease with her ‘special’ as she called him. Whether it was the uniform or the fact that he was almost six foot in height, she felt safe.
Even when she recounted the call to him, telling him each and every detail, there was no sign of the effect it had had on the police officer in the station. No telltale bulge growing at his groin or uncomfortable shifting in his seat, only a look of compassion at her ordeal and a promise to protect her as much as he could.
Soon Barry was calling around after every tour of the area, first for coffee, then the almost inevitable, sex.
The calls continued, but not as frequently. Whether that was because the caller was getting bored or that occasionally Barry was with her and he would answer the phone. Then Barry would hurl a string of expletives down the line before slamming the handset back onto the cradle.
It was Carla who had taken the initiative. Their coffee had gone cold as they kissed passionately on the couch and it was her hand that explored his body travelling down until it encountered the hard swelling at his groin. She even had to place his hand onto her full breasts that were aching for his touch.
Barry’s lovemaking was gentle, almost too gentle, but with the words of her caller still echoing in her mind this was what she needed. His tongue on her clit seemed smooth and expert bringing her to orgasm time after time. A finger inserted slowly as if her sodden pussy would resent the intrusion not welcome it. And his cock, barely six inches but so beautiful in appearance, lightly veined with a coral pink head that seemed ideal for fellatio.
At first he appeared almost reluctant to allow her to go down on him. He seemed content to allow her to suck and lick on and around his nipples while her hand stroked his hard erection. She was surprised when, as her tongue moved slowly down over his taut stomach, he stopped her.
“You don’t have to do that,” he whispered.
She smiled, “I know, I want to.”
He lay back onto the crisp white sheets and as her head got closer to his groin he felt her breath, hot on his genitals. After first planting butterfly kisses up and down the shaft he felt her sucking gently on his balls, rolling one then the other in her mouth before abandoning them to concentrate on the swollen head of his painfully hard cock. As his glans slipped over her lips and tongue he could feel her sucking powerfully on him, drawing him ever deeper until he was lodged at the back of her throat and her chin rested on his scrotum.
Carla paused, as if the feeling of his rigid flesh filling her mouth was her only goal, before moving her head slowly and methodically up and down, his member barely leaving her mouth before it slid deliciously back into its warm cavern.
Barry felt the tell tail tightening of his balls and rested his hands onto her shoulders, neither pulling her up nor pushing her down, but indicating his impending ejaculation.
Carla loved his show of consideration; too many times men had flooded her mouth unexpectedly, without warning, causing her to gag on the thick cream that shot down her throat. Easing him back, just a little, she felt his glans pulse then the semen gush from him and onto her tongue. She swallowed, his juice sliding down, tickling her throat as it found its way to her stomach.
She straddled him and allowed his softening member to enter her soaking opening. Never before had she been as wet and Carla wondered if Barry, first her protector, now her lover, could, some day, become her partner.
The weeks became months and the calls less frequent. Maybe it was her new found confidence that her caller found intimidating, and hence, less arousing, or perhaps he was, at last, bored with her. But as the number of calls tailed off, so did the intensity of their lovemaking. It was as if her recounting the words the caller spoke were an aphrodisiac for Barry. The more graphic the obscenities the more powerfully he appeared to orgasm.
“Tell me what he said,” Barry would ask as they masturbated each other.
“No,” Carla would reply, “don’t let that pervert into our bedroom, please.”
She felt his disappointment reflected in his softening member and his less than enthusiastic stroking of her clit.
“He wanted to fuck my arse again,” she whispered reluctantly.
She detected his cock stiffening again even though her hand remained still on him.
“Would you like me to do that? I’ll be gentle.”
“No, Barry, please don’t ask that, you know I’d hate it.”
“You’d do it for him though, you’d have to, so why not me? You said you loved me.”
Carla stared down at Barry’s cock now lying limp against his thigh.
“I think you should leave, Barry.”
She turned onto her side and ignored him as he rose, dressed and left, the click of the front door signalling his departure. Carla realised that the main thing they had in common was the caller, he’d made up a threesome in their relationship. Only when she recounted the latest or past calls was their lovemaking satisfying and she hated Barry for that, she hated them both almost equally.
The phone rang, disturbing her thoughts. It would be Barry ringing to apologise no doubt, she thought, let him wait. Five minutes later the phone was still ringing and Carla reached out and lifted the handset.
“Did he fuck you?” she heard the familiar metallic voice ask.
“What?” she answered, the full implication of the question hitting her.
“Your tame policeman, did he fuck you before he left or did you just suck him off?”
Carla couldn’t speak, confirmation that he knew where she lived and that he was watching dawning on her.
“I can almost smell the cum on your lips. I bet you swallowed it. Is his cum sweet or bitter? You must know that by now. I hope you haven’t let him fuck your arse, that’s mine, remember?”
Carla dropped the handset onto to bed and searched desperately for her cell phone. She hit the speed dial key for Barry’s phone . . . engaged. Her frustration made her call out and by the time she again picked up the handset the caller had gone.
Carla pushed her face into the pillow as sobs racked her body. Why her, she thought, why did he pick her? She wasn’t that pretty, there were others much nicer looking, even in the same street, so why her? And why did Barry have to behave as he did, and why was his phone engaged when she so desperately needed him?
She was half way to the door when the thought flashed into her mind . . . Barry’s phone was busy at the same time as the call to hers. No, forget it, it couldn’t be. Barry was usually so polite, so attentive, not like ‘him’. And wasn’t Barry here when some of the calls came in, she was standing next to him as the phone rang? No it couldn’t be Barry.
A faint warbling interrupted the doubts that were flooding her mind, and for once she welcomed the intrusion of a phone. She returned to the bedroom and picked up the handset, staring at the display . . . Barry.
Carla dropped the phone onto the bed as if it were red hot, searing her hand. What should she say? Should she tell him she suspected him? No, wait, see what he says, she thought.
She pressed the answer button and listened.
“Carla I’m so sorry, I tried to call you but your phone was busy . . . Carla, are you there? Are you okay?”
Relief coursed through Carla’s body. That’s why his phone was engaged, he was trying to call her at the same time. Shit, and to think I suspect him of all people, she thought.
“Barry, come back. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
The pause was long and deliberate, “You will?” he asked.
“Yes Barry,” she whispered, “whatever you want.”
“You sure, I’m not some tame policeman who’ll come running when you whistle, whenever you feel threatened.”
“I know, baby, I know. Just come home. Please.”
“Okay, I have a few things to do now but I’ll be back in an hour, that all right?”
“I’ll be ready for you,” she said, the catch in her voice not unnoticed by Barry.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, aren’t I always gentle?”
“Just come home soon, Barry, please”
Carla sat on the edge of the bed and sighed deeply. This was what the caller had reduced her to, selling part of her body like a common prostitute, not for money but for protection. She’d heard them joking at work…everyone wants a piece of my ass, but they didn’t know the half of it. Wasn’t her cunt… God, she hated that word… enough? Why, when he said himself how nice and tight she was, did Barry feel the need to fuck her there? She smiled grimly. The latent homosexuality in men, she thought ironically.
Carla showered, allowing first the almost scalding hot water to wash away the caller from her body, then cooler water to cascade over her. She reached behind, the pad of her index finger rested against her anus. She breathed in deeply and pushed on, her sphincter first resisting then relaxing as her finger slipped inside. A little uncomfortable but not unpleasant, she thought, but there was a world of difference between her small finger and Barry’s cock.
She dried herself and reached for a tube of lubricant she kept when even Barry’s cock was uncomfortable on some days. God, if Barry really was her tame policeman she wouldn’t be contemplating doing this for him, she thought.
Tame policeman . . . tame policeman . . . that’s what Barry said, that’s what the caller said. A coincidence? It must be, after all, he was here when the caller rang, sometimes. But how did she know it was the caller, it could have been someone else? But someone would have said the next time they spoke about the strange way Barry talked to them, wouldn’t they? Unless…
She ran, still naked, into the lounge. “Where’s that fuckin’ phone bill?” she shouted aloud. It was usually in the top drawer of the cabinet, but it was gone. In fact the last time she had seen it Barry had picked it up off the hall carpet.
Over recent weeks, Barry had managed to capture a small corner of her wardrobe for a few clothes when he stayed over and Carla raced into the bedroom to continue her search. The first jacket yielded a result she didn’t want to find, the bill.
She racked her brain to remember the last time a call came in and Barry had answered it. The second of the month, and the time? About ten, she thought. There in bold writing, ‘Alarm call’. Each date and time she could remember had the same result. He was talking to the fuckin’ speaking clock, or something like it. Further searching into the rear of the wardroom and Carla stood, a small ‘voice changer’, battered and broken, as if in temper, resting in her hand. It was Barry all along.
By the time she heard Barry inserting his key into the lock she was ready. She stood, naked, the tube of lubricant held tightly in her hand for him to see.
“He called again, Barry. After you left,” she said, managing to introduce a convincing catch into her voice.
“What did he say this time, baby?” Barry asked as he closed the door.
“He said he wanted to fuck my arse again, but I told him I was saving that for you.”
A look of puzzlement crossed fleetingly across Barry’s face, he knew she hadn’t, but he could hardly challenge her.
“And did you mean it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to one side inquiringly.
“That’s what this is for,” she answered, holding the lubricant in front of her. “But you will be gentle, wont you.”
“Oh yes, I’ll be gentle,” he replied as she turned and moved towards the bedroom, her rump swaying provocatively as she walked.
Carla laid the gel onto the bedside table, turned towards him and began unbuttoning his uniform. Soon he was as naked as her, his clothes and accessory belt in a pile on the floor. Sinking to her knees she gripped his already hard cock, precum leaking expectantly from the end. She licked it away and took him into her mouth, sucking gently on him for a few seconds before looking up into his face.
“I have to control this, you understand don’t you, Barry?”
She saw a look of puzzlement on his face and continued quickly. “If you lie down I can take it at my speed, if you thrust too hard it’ll spoil it for me. Please, Barry, let me do it my way.”
Barry lay down onto the bed, his cock harder then she had ever known it to be. She straddled him and leant forward, her lips brushing his before stretching her hand onto the floor and whispering into his ear. “You’ll like this too,” she said, holding his handcuffs in her hand.
He looked apprehensively at the cold steel before nodding and holding out his hands. This was getting better by the minute, he thought, bondage and anal in one session, this was more than he could have wished for.
Fixing one loop onto his hand she threaded the loose end between the bars on the headboard before fixing the other securely around his wrist.
“Not too tight are they, baby?” she purred, more of a statement than a question.
She didn’t wait for a reply but stretched out and waved the lubricant before him. Inching her way down his body she unscrewed the cap and pierced the foil top. Squeezing a glob onto her fingers she began massaging the cool gel into his steel hard erection.
Straddling him once more she eased back. He could feel the head of his cock at her tight entrance and smiled, this was what he had waited and planned for. Barry stared at her face, seeing a look of momentary discomfort written there, as his cock forced its way past the tight ring of her anus and began sliding slowly into her.
Sweat beaded onto her forehead as inch by inch of his cock filled her, until his balls pushed against the swelling of her buttocks. Then she began to ride him.
“You love this, don’t you baby?” she said. “This is what you wanted, to fuck my arse, to take my virginity there, isn’t it?”
He nodded, feeling the pressure in his balls threatening to overflow into ejaculation already.
“Slow down, slow down,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Don‘t let’s rush things, Carla.”
“Oh you poor thing, gonna cum already? After all your planning, all those phone calls and it could be over in seconds. You want me to slow down just to prolong your feelings . . . well, fuck you.”
She began to ride him even faster, his cock exiting almost totally before she pushed back hard, driving his rod deep inside.
Carla felt his body tense, then shudder, as his cum filled her.
“I know everything,” Carla whispered, as she continued her movement on him. “All the phone calls, the alarms you set up so you could answer it and pretend it was him and, oh! I found your voice changer.”
Barry could feel a second climax building inside as he spoke. “You can’t prove anything. I’ll say you must have set up the alarm calls yourself, and as for the voice thing, you bought it to play a trick on a friend. You have nothing. A magistrate would ask if I’ve acted so badly, then why this?”
“You’re right, of course, I can’t ‘prove’ a thing, but there again I don’t have to. Why this, you ask? Well, I believe that as this is your last act I could at least make it a pleasurable one, one you always fantasised about. This is your reward for all the times you were Dr. Jekyll but here is the punishment for the times you were Mr. Hyde.”
Carla reached down beside the bed and Barry looked horror stricken as she came back into view clutching a long, wicked looking knife. As he shot a second torrent of cum into her she leaned forward. “I think it was the tits you said you’d start with, wasn’t it Barry?”
THE CALLER
Carla pushed herself further into the corner of the closet, her hands clamped tightly over her ears to block out the incessant ringing of the phone. She knew she should have unplugged it, but to feel alone, isolated, seemed somehow worse; and if he did break in she would be at his mercy.
* * * * *
Someone had advised her to fit additional locks onto her front door, and the mixture of five locks and bolts had reassured her for a while. That was until she timed how long it would take her to get out, if he was already inside, waiting for her. As the seconds turned into minutes she realized she wasn’t only locking him out, but herself in.
The calls had started about a month previously, the first two being silent. She dismissed them as being wrong numbers and the caller not wishing to speak or admit their mistake; but the third was different. She could hear him breathing at first; then panting. It didn’t take much imagination to know what he was doing as he listened to her pleas for him to speak.
For a while she wondered if it was Steve, an old boyfriend. When he started university they attempted to keep the relationship alive by indulging in a few steamy phone sex sessions. At first she had been embarrassed by explaining what she was doing with the seven inch vibrator he had bought for her, even lying at times when she wasn’t really in the mood, but still enjoying listening to him getting more and more aroused. At its peak he would call every night about ten, both of them settling down into their respective beds, naked, but as time went by the hard, fake cock seemed a poor substitute for the real thing and their relationship faded and died.
But this wasn’t Steve.
He would never say the things this caller said to her. Steve never called her ‘a cunt’ or that ‘he’d fuck her arse till she bled’ . . . no, this wasn’t Steve, but whom?
Someone who’d seen her, that was obvious. How else could he describe her so accurately? And that made it worse. She could deal with some anonymous caller, asking ‘what colour panties she wore’ or if she was ‘wearing a bra’ but this guy really seemed to know what she looked like, or did he?
‘Small, with long dark hair’ could have been a guess? Couldn’t it? He never said that he knew where she lived or called her by name. Was he just a random caller, probably living miles, maybe hundreds, away? Or was he in the next apartment, waiting until she let her guard down . . . waiting to pounce?
The police had been little help, and the embarrassment of recounting the obscenities to a young police officer was, in some ways, worse than the calls had been. It felt as if she was trying to turn him on, and when he stood up later to leave she could swear he had a bulge in the front of his trousers. All this endured because the only policewoman on duty was unavailable with a rape victim and, for a while, she wondered if the next victim would be her.
They advised her to change her telephone number which helped for a short time but somehow he discovered it, and his first call afterwards was worse than the original calls had been. Violence had crept into them. Fucking her and cumming into her mouth had paled into insignificance in comparison to the things he said he would do to her in the later calls.
* * * * *
The ringing stopped, but her relief turned to even greater panic. Was he coming for her now because she hadn’t answered his call? Was he ascending the stairs, the knife he promised to use on her, in his hand? Why the fuck didn’t she just answer him? What harm would it do to engage in a little dirty talk, after all, she’d done it before? Tell him she’d suck his cock and swallow his cum, tell him anything, keep his fantasy going, as long as he didn’t come here to her apartment. She could listen to him wank, play along with him until he climaxed. Then he’d go away and leave her alone for a while. Most men lose interest once they’d cum, she knew that. But now where was he? Outside the door? Unzipping? Getting his cock out, rubbing it, getting it ready to fuck her raw, like he said?
Maybe if she banged on the closet wall the guy next door would come and save her? No . . . that would tell her potential rapist where she was hiding, and what if it was him? It could be him. He seemed friendly enough but what if it was all a ruse? Get her to let her guard down? Maybe even to invite him in to protect her then he’d pounce. Pin her to the bed and slice off her clothes, fuck her hard, dry . . . she could almost feel him inside her, the pain as his cock rammed into her. His strong arms flipping her over and his cock pausing momentarily at her anus before ripping viciously inside her..
Fuck it, STOP, STOP, STOP.
This was stupid, she thought, allowing him to dominate her like this. Tomorrow I’ll go back to the police and ask them to protect her, no . . . demand that they protect her. A taxpayer has that right, doesn’t she?
Carla emerged slowly from the closet and quietly crept from room to room until she was convinced the apartment was empty. Her apartment, her home. What had once been so welcoming had now taken on a sinister edge. How could everything change so rapidly and so completely? Her refuge from her day to day mundane life had become both a prison and a castle, depending on the mood she was in, but not a home, and she wondered if it could ever be a home for her again. What right had he to do this? Fear and timidity changed to anger and resentment. She would find him eventually and when she did Carla swore that she would make sure he never did this to anyone else.
On her second visit to the police station she was determined; no more male officers and Carla was in luck. She was shown into an interview room and within a few minutes Emily entered. Emily was the exact opposite of Carla, tall and intimidating, someone even the males would not want to mess with, and as the interview progressed Carla desperately wished she was more like Emily. This wasn’t a girl who would cower in a closet or barricade herself in. Here was someone who could really take care of herself.
“There’s very little chance that he would come to your apartment even if he did know where you live,” Emily said, after hearing Carla’s account of the calls and her subsequent actions. “These are guys with small dicks who can only intimidate girls over the phone; if you came face to face with him you’d wonder why you’d been so afraid.”
Carla smiled for the first time in weeks and nodded, albeit hesitantly. “You’re probably right, but there’s still that remote possibility that he could know me isn’t there?”
“Yes, there is that chance and you should take care, but don’t let this rule your life. Take control. We have a special constable in the area that specialises in community policing. I could ask him to keep an eye on the apartment and call in occasionally to make sure you’re okay, if you want. I realise letting a man in won’t be your preferred option but, to be honest, it’s the best we can do. I take it you don’t want to move?”
“Oh, I want to move alright, but I can’t afford it and that would be letting him drive me out, wouldn’t it?”
“True, but the option is there. Do you want me to organise everything and ring you? I know your new number’s in our files.”
After agreeing Carla left, slightly more reassured than before, but still realising that for the majority of the time she would be alone.
Her apartment still felt cold and uninviting as she entered, and Carla wondered if she would ever feel truly safe here again.
She spent most of the evening sitting next to the window looking down into the street below and wondering if Emily would keep her promise. It was about nine o’clock when she saw a solitary figure walking slowly up the street glancing occasionally into the shop windows as he passed. When he was illuminated by a street lamp she could see his uniform and at the same instant he looked up at her and waved. He looked young, almost as if he should still be in school, but many policemen looked like that, she decided. And, like Emily, not someone to mess with.
After smiling broadly up at her he continued walking and disappeared into the shadows. Carla relaxed and looked at the piece of paper in her hand. On it was written the constable’s cell phone number. “Ring him any time,” Emily had said, as she left, and for a few seconds she was tempted. Maybe tomorrow, Carla thought, in case this is just a one off.
It was two days before she called him, as he walked below her window, and another two before he entered her apartment. In that time she had only one call and by now she was gaining in confidence, but only for a very short while.
She had just settled down with a new novel when the phone rang and instead of being fearful she was, for the first time, only annoyed.
“Have you missed me?” she heard him say with that awful, tinny voice that was so obviously electronically disguised.
Carla remained calm, as Emily had instructed her. “No, should I have?” she responded.
“If you’d ever had my nine inch cock up you, you would.”
“But that’s never going to happen, is it. The best you can hope for is to stand in some kiosk somewhere, or is it a cell phone this time, with your cock out wanking like a fourteen year old school boy behind the bike sheds.”
“Fuck you!”
Carla laughed. A little nervously, but still a mocking laugh.
“What’s the matter? Have I hit a nerve there? Are you wanking or has it gone soft on you? Has that nine inches shrivelled up, not as hard as it was? I bet it’s lying limp, like a little slug. Ever had a woman, you little shit, or is this all your sex life consists of, calling random numbers until a woman answers then wanking off to her voice?”
“How do you know it’s random, bitch? How do you know I don’t know you? I could be watching you right now.”
Carla’s blood ran cold. She didn’t know really. He could be watching? Fuck, the curtain was still open, she realised, and hastily shut out the street below before waiting to hear his response.
“I could be across the street, waiting until you go to bed, then slip in through all those locks you no doubt have fitted. Creep into your bedroom and watch you lying naked. A few seconds and you’d be spread-eagled for me. If you’re good I may keep you for a few hours, I bet you’d fuck like a rabbit when you’re frightened, just to stay alive.”
He paused, waiting for Carla’s response, but Carla had frozen by now and she heard him chuckle.
“What’s the matter? Not as cocky now are we?”
Carla couldn’t answer, the lump in her throat felt like an apple stuck there.
“It’s okay. I’ve cum now, but we’ll have more friendly chats later. Or would you like to invite me round? You’d enjoy it, I’m sure. Ever been fucked up the arse or will I be the first for that pleasure? Well, I’ll no doubt find out. Speak to you again soon . . . pleasant dreams.”
She heard a click then the phone went dead. The tears flowed uncontrollably. How could anyone do this to a fellow human being, she thought, but at least she had her protector now.
Barry was better than she could ever have hoped, attentive, considerate and above all, sympathetic. From the first time they met she felt at ease with her ‘special’ as she called him. Whether it was the uniform or the fact that he was almost six foot in height, she felt safe.
Even when she recounted the call to him, telling him each and every detail, there was no sign of the effect it had had on the police officer in the station. No telltale bulge growing at his groin or uncomfortable shifting in his seat, only a look of compassion at her ordeal and a promise to protect her as much as he could.
Soon Barry was calling around after every tour of the area, first for coffee, then the almost inevitable, sex.
The calls continued, but not as frequently. Whether that was because the caller was getting bored or that occasionally Barry was with her and he would answer the phone. Then Barry would hurl a string of expletives down the line before slamming the handset back onto the cradle.
It was Carla who had taken the initiative. Their coffee had gone cold as they kissed passionately on the couch and it was her hand that explored his body travelling down until it encountered the hard swelling at his groin. She even had to place his hand onto her full breasts that were aching for his touch.
Barry’s lovemaking was gentle, almost too gentle, but with the words of her caller still echoing in her mind this was what she needed. His tongue on her clit seemed smooth and expert bringing her to orgasm time after time. A finger inserted slowly as if her sodden pussy would resent the intrusion not welcome it. And his cock, barely six inches but so beautiful in appearance, lightly veined with a coral pink head that seemed ideal for fellatio.
At first he appeared almost reluctant to allow her to go down on him. He seemed content to allow her to suck and lick on and around his nipples while her hand stroked his hard erection. She was surprised when, as her tongue moved slowly down over his taut stomach, he stopped her.
“You don’t have to do that,” he whispered.
She smiled, “I know, I want to.”
He lay back onto the crisp white sheets and as her head got closer to his groin he felt her breath, hot on his genitals. After first planting butterfly kisses up and down the shaft he felt her sucking gently on his balls, rolling one then the other in her mouth before abandoning them to concentrate on the swollen head of his painfully hard cock. As his glans slipped over her lips and tongue he could feel her sucking powerfully on him, drawing him ever deeper until he was lodged at the back of her throat and her chin rested on his scrotum.
Carla paused, as if the feeling of his rigid flesh filling her mouth was her only goal, before moving her head slowly and methodically up and down, his member barely leaving her mouth before it slid deliciously back into its warm cavern.
Barry felt the tell tail tightening of his balls and rested his hands onto her shoulders, neither pulling her up nor pushing her down, but indicating his impending ejaculation.
Carla loved his show of consideration; too many times men had flooded her mouth unexpectedly, without warning, causing her to gag on the thick cream that shot down her throat. Easing him back, just a little, she felt his glans pulse then the semen gush from him and onto her tongue. She swallowed, his juice sliding down, tickling her throat as it found its way to her stomach.
She straddled him and allowed his softening member to enter her soaking opening. Never before had she been as wet and Carla wondered if Barry, first her protector, now her lover, could, some day, become her partner.
The weeks became months and the calls less frequent. Maybe it was her new found confidence that her caller found intimidating, and hence, less arousing, or perhaps he was, at last, bored with her. But as the number of calls tailed off, so did the intensity of their lovemaking. It was as if her recounting the words the caller spoke were an aphrodisiac for Barry. The more graphic the obscenities the more powerfully he appeared to orgasm.
“Tell me what he said,” Barry would ask as they masturbated each other.
“No,” Carla would reply, “don’t let that pervert into our bedroom, please.”
She felt his disappointment reflected in his softening member and his less than enthusiastic stroking of her clit.
“He wanted to fuck my arse again,” she whispered reluctantly.
She detected his cock stiffening again even though her hand remained still on him.
“Would you like me to do that? I’ll be gentle.”
“No, Barry, please don’t ask that, you know I’d hate it.”
“You’d do it for him though, you’d have to, so why not me? You said you loved me.”
Carla stared down at Barry’s cock now lying limp against his thigh.
“I think you should leave, Barry.”
She turned onto her side and ignored him as he rose, dressed and left, the click of the front door signalling his departure. Carla realised that the main thing they had in common was the caller, he’d made up a threesome in their relationship. Only when she recounted the latest or past calls was their lovemaking satisfying and she hated Barry for that, she hated them both almost equally.
The phone rang, disturbing her thoughts. It would be Barry ringing to apologise no doubt, she thought, let him wait. Five minutes later the phone was still ringing and Carla reached out and lifted the handset.
“Did he fuck you?” she heard the familiar metallic voice ask.
“What?” she answered, the full implication of the question hitting her.
“Your tame policeman, did he fuck you before he left or did you just suck him off?”
Carla couldn’t speak, confirmation that he knew where she lived and that he was watching dawning on her.
“I can almost smell the cum on your lips. I bet you swallowed it. Is his cum sweet or bitter? You must know that by now. I hope you haven’t let him fuck your arse, that’s mine, remember?”
Carla dropped the handset onto to bed and searched desperately for her cell phone. She hit the speed dial key for Barry’s phone . . . engaged. Her frustration made her call out and by the time she again picked up the handset the caller had gone.
Carla pushed her face into the pillow as sobs racked her body. Why her, she thought, why did he pick her? She wasn’t that pretty, there were others much nicer looking, even in the same street, so why her? And why did Barry have to behave as he did, and why was his phone engaged when she so desperately needed him?
She was half way to the door when the thought flashed into her mind . . . Barry’s phone was busy at the same time as the call to hers. No, forget it, it couldn’t be. Barry was usually so polite, so attentive, not like ‘him’. And wasn’t Barry here when some of the calls came in, she was standing next to him as the phone rang? No it couldn’t be Barry.
A faint warbling interrupted the doubts that were flooding her mind, and for once she welcomed the intrusion of a phone. She returned to the bedroom and picked up the handset, staring at the display . . . Barry.
Carla dropped the phone onto the bed as if it were red hot, searing her hand. What should she say? Should she tell him she suspected him? No, wait, see what he says, she thought.
She pressed the answer button and listened.
“Carla I’m so sorry, I tried to call you but your phone was busy . . . Carla, are you there? Are you okay?”
Relief coursed through Carla’s body. That’s why his phone was engaged, he was trying to call her at the same time. Shit, and to think I suspect him of all people, she thought.
“Barry, come back. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
The pause was long and deliberate, “You will?” he asked.
“Yes Barry,” she whispered, “whatever you want.”
“You sure, I’m not some tame policeman who’ll come running when you whistle, whenever you feel threatened.”
“I know, baby, I know. Just come home. Please.”
“Okay, I have a few things to do now but I’ll be back in an hour, that all right?”
“I’ll be ready for you,” she said, the catch in her voice not unnoticed by Barry.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, aren’t I always gentle?”
“Just come home soon, Barry, please”
Carla sat on the edge of the bed and sighed deeply. This was what the caller had reduced her to, selling part of her body like a common prostitute, not for money but for protection. She’d heard them joking at work…everyone wants a piece of my ass, but they didn’t know the half of it. Wasn’t her cunt… God, she hated that word… enough? Why, when he said himself how nice and tight she was, did Barry feel the need to fuck her there? She smiled grimly. The latent homosexuality in men, she thought ironically.
Carla showered, allowing first the almost scalding hot water to wash away the caller from her body, then cooler water to cascade over her. She reached behind, the pad of her index finger rested against her anus. She breathed in deeply and pushed on, her sphincter first resisting then relaxing as her finger slipped inside. A little uncomfortable but not unpleasant, she thought, but there was a world of difference between her small finger and Barry’s cock.
She dried herself and reached for a tube of lubricant she kept when even Barry’s cock was uncomfortable on some days. God, if Barry really was her tame policeman she wouldn’t be contemplating doing this for him, she thought.
Tame policeman . . . tame policeman . . . that’s what Barry said, that’s what the caller said. A coincidence? It must be, after all, he was here when the caller rang, sometimes. But how did she know it was the caller, it could have been someone else? But someone would have said the next time they spoke about the strange way Barry talked to them, wouldn’t they? Unless…
She ran, still naked, into the lounge. “Where’s that fuckin’ phone bill?” she shouted aloud. It was usually in the top drawer of the cabinet, but it was gone. In fact the last time she had seen it Barry had picked it up off the hall carpet.
Over recent weeks, Barry had managed to capture a small corner of her wardrobe for a few clothes when he stayed over and Carla raced into the bedroom to continue her search. The first jacket yielded a result she didn’t want to find, the bill.
She racked her brain to remember the last time a call came in and Barry had answered it. The second of the month, and the time? About ten, she thought. There in bold writing, ‘Alarm call’. Each date and time she could remember had the same result. He was talking to the fuckin’ speaking clock, or something like it. Further searching into the rear of the wardroom and Carla stood, a small ‘voice changer’, battered and broken, as if in temper, resting in her hand. It was Barry all along.
By the time she heard Barry inserting his key into the lock she was ready. She stood, naked, the tube of lubricant held tightly in her hand for him to see.
“He called again, Barry. After you left,” she said, managing to introduce a convincing catch into her voice.
“What did he say this time, baby?” Barry asked as he closed the door.
“He said he wanted to fuck my arse again, but I told him I was saving that for you.”
A look of puzzlement crossed fleetingly across Barry’s face, he knew she hadn’t, but he could hardly challenge her.
“And did you mean it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to one side inquiringly.
“That’s what this is for,” she answered, holding the lubricant in front of her. “But you will be gentle, wont you.”
“Oh yes, I’ll be gentle,” he replied as she turned and moved towards the bedroom, her rump swaying provocatively as she walked.
Carla laid the gel onto the bedside table, turned towards him and began unbuttoning his uniform. Soon he was as naked as her, his clothes and accessory belt in a pile on the floor. Sinking to her knees she gripped his already hard cock, precum leaking expectantly from the end. She licked it away and took him into her mouth, sucking gently on him for a few seconds before looking up into his face.
“I have to control this, you understand don’t you, Barry?”
She saw a look of puzzlement on his face and continued quickly. “If you lie down I can take it at my speed, if you thrust too hard it’ll spoil it for me. Please, Barry, let me do it my way.”
Barry lay down onto the bed, his cock harder then she had ever known it to be. She straddled him and leant forward, her lips brushing his before stretching her hand onto the floor and whispering into his ear. “You’ll like this too,” she said, holding his handcuffs in her hand.
He looked apprehensively at the cold steel before nodding and holding out his hands. This was getting better by the minute, he thought, bondage and anal in one session, this was more than he could have wished for.
Fixing one loop onto his hand she threaded the loose end between the bars on the headboard before fixing the other securely around his wrist.
“Not too tight are they, baby?” she purred, more of a statement than a question.
She didn’t wait for a reply but stretched out and waved the lubricant before him. Inching her way down his body she unscrewed the cap and pierced the foil top. Squeezing a glob onto her fingers she began massaging the cool gel into his steel hard erection.
Straddling him once more she eased back. He could feel the head of his cock at her tight entrance and smiled, this was what he had waited and planned for. Barry stared at her face, seeing a look of momentary discomfort written there, as his cock forced its way past the tight ring of her anus and began sliding slowly into her.
Sweat beaded onto her forehead as inch by inch of his cock filled her, until his balls pushed against the swelling of her buttocks. Then she began to ride him.
“You love this, don’t you baby?” she said. “This is what you wanted, to fuck my arse, to take my virginity there, isn’t it?”
He nodded, feeling the pressure in his balls threatening to overflow into ejaculation already.
“Slow down, slow down,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Don‘t let’s rush things, Carla.”
“Oh you poor thing, gonna cum already? After all your planning, all those phone calls and it could be over in seconds. You want me to slow down just to prolong your feelings . . . well, fuck you.”
She began to ride him even faster, his cock exiting almost totally before she pushed back hard, driving his rod deep inside.
Carla felt his body tense, then shudder, as his cum filled her.
“I know everything,” Carla whispered, as she continued her movement on him. “All the phone calls, the alarms you set up so you could answer it and pretend it was him and, oh! I found your voice changer.”
Barry could feel a second climax building inside as he spoke. “You can’t prove anything. I’ll say you must have set up the alarm calls yourself, and as for the voice thing, you bought it to play a trick on a friend. You have nothing. A magistrate would ask if I’ve acted so badly, then why this?”
“You’re right, of course, I can’t ‘prove’ a thing, but there again I don’t have to. Why this, you ask? Well, I believe that as this is your last act I could at least make it a pleasurable one, one you always fantasised about. This is your reward for all the times you were Dr. Jekyll but here is the punishment for the times you were Mr. Hyde.”
Carla reached down beside the bed and Barry looked horror stricken as she came back into view clutching a long, wicked looking knife. As he shot a second torrent of cum into her she leaned forward. “I think it was the tits you said you’d start with, wasn’t it Barry?”
While it didn't turn me on, I thought if this was first effort at this sort of thing, it's not bad. We all start somewhere, yes? I'm sure an editor could get really busy here, but I'll leave that to them. The only thing that really stood out (and I'm taking it as a lesson to myself, plot is a struggle) is this:
