tagErotic HorrorPro Boner

Pro Boner

byBetty Johnson©

Betty Johnson could tell by the pounding at the sides of her head that this was going to be a two Valium night. It was 7:30 pm, and she was still in the office. Sometimes she would look up at the clock, see how late it was, and wonder whatever could have possessed her to become a lawyer.

She had worked hard for her degree, unlike many of her colleagues. It seemed to Betty that there was entirely too much money involved in the practice of law. Too many lawyers with wealthy parents who could pay for their children to take the same classes over and over because Johnny was either too stupid to pass the first time, or too drunk.

Betty had worked her way through law school dancing at bachelor parties and birthday parties. It might not have been the most respected career, but it got her what she wanted; money for school, and a few other perks.

She had blossomed early, looked nineteen when she was only fourteen, twenty-one by the time she was sixteen. It didn't take long for her to find out how easy it was to manipulate men with her looks. And now that she was twenty-eight, she wasn't above flashing a little skin around the courtroom to get what she wanted.

Betty had represented seventeen cases in court. Many others she had plea-bargained or had dismissed, but it was the courtroom where she really shone. Not one of those seventeen cases had she lost. With a record like that, she could have easily taken a position at one of the fancier firms in Austin and started charging a thousand dollars an hour, but she never did. She always represented those who could not afford the best lawyers in the city, as long as they were men.

Like Sean Poe.

Sean Poe was a nobody. He had never done anything of worth with his life; he had no surviving relatives, and worked a crappy delivery job that paid minimum wage. His only talent was that he had won several knife-throwing contests. He was a person that no one would have ever heard of, or cared about, if he had not been brought up on charges for the rape and murder of twenty-nine women.

He was exactly the kind of client that Betty looked for, and when she found out that all of his victims had been blonde-haired and blue-eyed, just like her, it was icing on the cake.

She looked back at the clock. Five minutes past eight. She had reviewed every piece of evidence in Sean Poe's police file, preparing herself for meeting the man in person the next morning. It was time to go home. She needed to get into the shower and slide her fingers between her legs, relieving herself of all the sexual tension that had been growing in her as she thought about her upcoming case. As she thought about the offer she would be making to Sean Poe in just eleven hours.

The next morning she arrived at the county jail. "Do you have any nail files, mace, or anything that can be used as a weapon," the guard asked Betty, a little too harshly.

"No, I don't." She was standing in front of the bars that would allow her access to the jail. The dark gray walls, the fat flakes of peeling paint, the harsh fluorescent lighting; it all served to give even the entrance an atmosphere of confinement. It was very unsettling for Betty, who had always had an aversion to tight spaces. But when she thought about the men that were confined here, the suffering and agony they must be going through, it took her mind away from the growing panic of her claustrophobia and returned her thoughts back to where they should be - on her moistening pussy.

The guard took her purse and emptied the contents onto the steel countertop, leaving Betty wondering why he had bothered to ask if he was going to look anyway.

He gave her a long, lustful look before saying, "You'll have to wait twenty minutes until a female guard comes on duty."

"I can't wait twenty minutes. Do it yourself."

He responded with a smirk. "I'm not suppose' to frisk a female but, since you ask for it, I'll have to make an exception. Hold out your arms and spread your legs." It was more than a little evident that the lecherous guard was looking forward to frisking her. It was not often that such an attractive woman came through there.

She smiled to herself. Over the years she had developed an understanding of how desperate for sexual contact men could be. Right now, Sean Poe would be going though a full body strip search. Maybe even a cavity search. That idea wetted her already damp panties even further, and she wondered if the guard could feel it when he ran his hand between her legs.

After fondling every square inch of her body, the guard led her further into the jail. There was a special room set up where lawyers could meet with their clients. It barely passed as a conference room. The table and chairs were made of steel and bolted to the floor. She had asked once why everything in the jail was made of steel. The answer had shocked even her.

"It's easy to clean. These guys in here'll shit, piss, or jack off on just about anything they can. Shit soaks into wood, ruins it. But it cleans right off the stainless."

She had to wait a long time before Poe was finally led into the room by two guards, a man and a woman. It gave her time to arrange legal pads, folders, and files on the table. She wanted to impress him, and paperwork always seemed to do the trick when she was trying to look more professional.

Poe was chained at the wrists and ankles, another chain running between them. The guards shoved him into the chair roughly before walking back to the door.

"You need anything, Miss, you just yell. I'll be right outside," said the male guard. Betty nodded and dismissed him with a wave. She wasn't expecting any trouble from Sean Poe just yet.

"What do you want?" he asked, staring at the table.

"I want to help you, Sean. I want to be your lawyer."

"I've already got a lawyer."

"Who? A public defender who wants to see you get the death penalty just as much as the prosecutor? Don't forget where you are, Sean. This is Texas for Christ's sakes. Without my help, you're as good as dead."

He looked up for the first time. "What makes you think you can help me?"

"I've never lost before."

"I don't have any money, lady. You should know that."

"I'm not interested in money, Sean, and don't call me lady. My name is Betty."

"If you don't want money, then what do you want?" She could sense his lust growing by the way he was leaning forward, the way he looked into her eyes. She could hear the chains rattling as he worked his hands anxiously together beneath the table. Perhaps he was fantasizing about her. That was good. She would fan those fantasies to draw him out of his world and into her own.

"I want you, Sean. I wanted you as soon as I saw you on the news. You're famous now, powerful and, well I...I think you're sexy." She looked away, trying to look shy, coquettish. She even managed to blush a little, a trick she had learned in her dancing days.

"Do you know how many women I've killed?" he said. Was he trying to scare her? Did he want her to be afraid? Betty wondered if this was part of his game, or if he really didn't want her help. She had run across men before who were so determined to face their punishment and walk The Last Mile that even she couldn't talk them out of it.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Poe didn't say anything. He stared at her across the table, as if analyzing her, trying to crack the code that would open up this new mystery to him.

"Maybe fear is the greatest aphrodisiac. Look," she said, bringing her powerful gaze back to his eyes. "What difference does it make why I want to be with you? I help you in court, get you off, and then," she smiled mischievously, "I can get you off. All I want is one day with you. Everybody wins." She waited for his answer, her pulse growing faster as the weight of the moment pressed against her.

After a long wait, he finally said, "Okay. You got yourself a deal." His smile was broad and chilling. Betty was sure each of his victims had seen that smile.

Betty walked back across the jail parking lot, unable to hide her grin. The familiar, throbbing ache had returned with fervor, a demand that would not wait for the privacy of her shower. She practically ran the last twenty yards to her BMW, would have sprinted if it weren't for the high heels she wore.

She slammed the car door behind her. It wouldn't wait a second longer. She needed it now, right now, and nothing was going to keep her from having it, even if an audience of nuns came to stand outside her car window.

She pulled her shirt up, desperately fumbling with her belt and the buttons of her pants. She had to a take a steadying breath to bring her hands back under control, she was so eager. Finally, the buttons came away and she drove her hand in, cupping her sex and squeezing forcefully.

She loved the feel of her pussy, so soft and smooth, and as hot as an oven. Very few men had ever been permitted the feeling of that warmth wrapped around their cock. And she was tight, even now, with her juices flowing so freely that she had to be gentle as she slid her middle finger inside. She grimaced and ground her teeth as the first burst of energy surged through her.

Her finger pulled upward, curling slightly, massaging her g-spot before she eased it back out, running it over the surface of her clit. A moan escaped her lips, soft and feminine at first, but growing deeper and more desperate as she continued to slide her finger over her clitoris, into her opening, across the soft bump of flesh inside and back out again, to repeat the motion. Her heart was racing, her breathing becoming so fast that it made her breasts shake, rubbing her sensitive nipples against the fabric of her blouse.

Faster now her finger danced, accelerating until it became a blur and the muscles in her arm burned. The pounding throb in her abdomen grew, building to an uncontrollable crescendo. Her head pulled back until she was looking at the roof of the car, her mouth frozen open, unable to draw breath. Everything was focused on the miracle that was about to occur.

The first spasm came and she took her hardened clit between her thumb and forefinger, pinching it, and everything that had been building up in the depths of her exploded outward. Her feet shoved against the floorboard and her hips bucked forward, slamming into the steering wheel. She arched so hard that the back of the seat creaked under the strain, and she cried out in ecstasy as wave after wave of orgasmic energy ran wild through her body.

Finally, it was over. She was able to breathe again, which she did in short gasps as every part of her was still shaking in the aftermath. She was covered in a sheen of sweat that had her clothes clinging tightly to her body. Her skin had flushed a deep crimson. It would be another fifteen minutes before her limbs would respond to her commands. As she sat there, trembling, occasionally laughing for no reason, she thought, "This is the best it's ever been."

Betty and Judge Moore were already resting comfortably in the judge's chambers when Paul Peterson, the assistant district attorney entered the room. He was uncomfortable as he closed the door behind him. The tension on his face made him look older than his fifty-nine years.

"I certainly hope the two of you weren't discussing the case outside of my presence," he said.

"I certainly hope that you are not accusing me of misconduct in my own chambers, councilor." Judge Moore was a fat man and his jowls shook when he spoke. "If you are so concerned with Ms. Johnson and me conspiring against you, then maybe you should make a better effort to be on time."

"Of course, your honor. I didn't mean any disrespect," Paul said. He lowered himself carefully into the chair next to Betty. Paul always moved carefully. His service in Vietnam had earned him a Purple Heart and a prosthetic leg.

"State your case, Ms. Johnson," said Judge Moore.

"This is a motion for dismissal," she said, pulling a file from her briefcase.

"Dismissal!? You can't be serious," Paul scoffed. "That monster had torture equipment in his car that looked like something out of the Spanish inquisition. He had newspaper clippings, journals bragging about the sick things that he did to those poor women. To be honest, Ms. Johnson, I can't believe that you'd represent him in the first place."

"Everybody has the right to fair representation. Besides, he's innocent."

Paul was mesmerized by her when she turned to face him straight on. The entire room seemed to be filled with her presence. He felt like he was a passenger, waiting to see where she would take him next.

"All of your evidence was obtained though an illegal search. You should be glad I'm not advising my client to sue for violation of his civil right."

"Civil rights! He got pulled over for a busted taillight and he had tongue pincers in the trunk of his car, along with god knows what else. I've got an intern at the office trying to figure out what half those things are supposed to be for."

"The trunk of a car that you never had permission, warrant, or cause to search. All of your so-called evidence was obtained illegally, and is inadmissible in court."

Judge Moore sat in his chair, leaning back, listening to the two opponents argue. He had always loved the process of the law. The idea that two opponents could take extremely different views, debate with each other, and somehow find the truth, was fascinating. And from all of his experience in the courtroom, the process, for the most part, worked. He had always considered himself to be a fair, balanced Judge. He had done his best to preserve the integrity of the justice system in his courtroom for thirteen years.

That integrity ended that day.

Peterson had been ten minutes late, but Betty had been half an hour early. Tom Moore was thankful for both. If Peterson had walked in just a few moments earlier, he would have found a judge with his trousers around his ankles, enjoying the best blowjob he'd ever known. That little scenario would have put Moore in a world of hurt. He would be thrown off the bench, and that was just for starters. His wife would kill him.

He was hurting enough as it was. Betty had not finished what she started, leaving him with an agonizing erection. It was slowly subsiding, but was still aching terribly.

"Well, Mr. Peterson," Moore said. "Do you have anything to add? Because, as it stands, I'm forced to agree with Ms. Johnson. If all of your evidence was obtained illegally, I will have to dismiss."

"But, Your Honor, the investigators had a warrant to search Mr. Poe's residence."

"That doesn't matter, councilor. If the only reason they had for getting the warrant was what they obtained from the trunk of the car, then they may as well have never had the warrant at all. I agree with Ms. Johnson. The case is dismissed. I'll have Sean Poe released by this afternoon."

"Thank you, sir," Betty said.

Paul was not so grateful. He stood and marched to the door. His prosthetic leg made it hard for him to storm out of a room, but he did the best that he could. He paused for a moment at the door, glaring at the judge and Betty, before slamming the door.

Now that Peterson was gone, Judge Moore walked back around to the front of the desk. He didn't waste any time, and quickly undid his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His cock snapped to attention and he shoved the thing toward her.

Betty's gaze shifted from the miserable cock in front of her face, to the miserable man it was attached to. "What?" she asked.

"What do you mean, what? What do you think?" He thrust forward impatiently, the head of his long, slender penis butting against her lips.

Betty nodded slowly. "All right." She opened her mouth and swallowed half his length.

Judge Moore gasped in pain. Betty had drawn her lips back and seized his cock between her teeth. She glared up at him defiantly, her eyes smoldering with malice. He tried to withdraw and free his tortured organ from her savage bite. But Betty showed just how ruthless she could be. She responded by biting down even harder. As her teeth sank deeper into his manhood, he whimpered and froze, not daring to move a muscle. "Please," he whispered. "Don't."

After a moment, Betty released his cock. Judge Moore immediately retreated, fearful that she might bite him again.

"Christ, are you crazy? You BIT it."

"You think you can just stick your dick in my mouth because you want to? Any man tries that when I'm not in the mood, and I won't hesitate to bite it off. And that goes for yours, too."

"But, I granted your dismissal. I won your case for you."

"Thanks." She gathered her things and walked confidently from the room, leaving him bare-assed and gaping in front of his desk. He leaned over and inspected his injury, massaging the deep teeth marks she'd left in his shrinking hard-on.

As Betty walked down the hall, Paul came storming from around the corner, back in the direction of the judge's chambers, and marched straight up to her.

"That was bullshit. It was a setup from the moment I walked in that office. What did you do, fuck him?"

"Typical man. You think that the only way I can win a case is with my pussy, is that it? Did you ever stop to think that maybe I was right? Of course you didn't. Because you've got a problem with losing a case to a woman."

"I've got a problem with letting psychopaths run free on the street and with anyone that helps them to do it. You think that you did good today, don't you? Well let me tell you, cookie, the only thing that you did is make it more dangerous for everybody out there. Sean Poe is a twisted motherfucker, and he deserves to die a horrible death."

"Well, maybe we should agree to disagree." Betty went to move past him and he blocked her path. "Get out of my way."

They locked stares for several moments. As Betty grew angry, she leaned toward Paul with her mouth slightly open. Something convinced him to step aside.

"I've been dealing with men like you all my life, Paul, and I know just how to handle them. I don't get intimidated anymore. So just stay the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you."

He watched her walk down the hall, her heels making crisp pops on the tile floor. As angry with the woman as he was, he still could not help but notice the sway in her hips, the curve of her figure. It frustrated him that he was so attracted to her.

Betty was waiting. Patience had never been among her virtues. It had been two days since she had won the dismissal in his case, and she was anxious for her payment. She had made arrangements for him to meet her tonight, and she was standing at the front door, watching the street.

She lived in a sparsely furnished two-story Victorian house. Betty didn't like clutter. On the wall over the fireplace there was a family portrait, from when she was a child. All the faces in the picture had been scraped away, except for Betty's.

Finally his car came up the street, and pulled to a stop at the curb. She swung open the door, and waved at him with her left hand. Her right hand remained hidden behind the door, clutching a stun baton.

She was no fool. She knew exactly what Sean Poe wanted to do to her and she had no intention of giving him the chance. As far as she was concerned, this gave her all the power. She knew what he was, and knew that he wanted to rape, torture and murder her. But he had no idea what he was walking into. Sean Poe was about to learn what pain really was.

The car door came open and for just a moment she thought, "What if he has a gun?" before dismissing the idea. It wasn't his style. He climbed from the car and crossed the sidewalk, approaching the door. Suddenly he sprinted the last ten feet to her and kicked the door, knocking Betty to the ground. He was on top of her before she even had a chance to react.

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byBetty Johnson© 11 comments/ 75172 views/ 9 favorites

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