The Professional Victim Ch. 02byblacknight99©
All the way there, she chided herself ... she HAD to get control! She HAD to find out how he took those girls! She HAD to get some sort of physical evidence that she could go to the Captain with! But when they were there, she found herself wishing that the walk had lasted longer. She wished she could feel his arm around her just a little bit more.
It was a Victorian home that had been converted to an office/apartment combination, and he led her upstairs. The apartment was immaculate! She was after some sort of DNA evidence, but she doubted that anyone could even find a fingerprint in the place! Somehow, she kept from showing him her disappointment, but she couldn't suppress a comment. "This is a bachelor pad?"
He laughed. "You couldn't have picked a better evening. This was the maid's day. She's a little ... well ... efficient. I'll have it back in its normal state of chaos in a day or two."
"Can I use your bathroom?" she asked as he advanced toward her, a gleam in his eye.
"Er ... sure. Right over there."
And her heart sank. The bathroom looked as if an army of scrubbing bubbles had spent a year on the job in there. Somehow, she had imagined finding a hairbrush with dozens of strands, roots still firmly attached, waiting patiently for her ... but there was no hairbrush. Who was she kidding? Forlornly, after making a thorough search, she stood regarding a toothbrush that looked brand new. Likewise the blade in his razor.
A knock at the door. "Hey, you okay in there?" Out of time. Out of ideas.
She opened the door. "Hi," she said, smiling.
He handed her a glass of wine and led her back into the living room. They sat on the couch and sipped from their glasses and just looked at each other. Somehow, she knew that if he made a move, she wouldn't be able to say no. Would she really justify having sex with a serial rapist as the only way to get a sperm sample? That was crazy! But, of course, that wasn't the real story at all. She WANTED this! She wanted HIM! Oh, this couldn't be happening! Deep down inside, she didn't believe it, of course. She would never fall in love with a rapist, and she was falling in love with him ... ergo, he wasn't the rapist. But he had been there ... four out of seven times ... and maybe more!
Okay, time for a plan. She had to have more than just a sample, anyway. She had to have a method. She thought she knew, and despite what the crummy FBI profiler had said, she still believed it. She took a deep breath.
"Brett," she began, and blushed and looked down again, unable to actually say it.
"What is it, Donna?"
She blushed even more. "You're going to think I'm awful." And she paused and fumbled her hands together. "Brett, could you ... could you hypnotize me? Please? I've ALWAYS wanted to know what it was like ... and here we are ... and ... and I trust you ... and ... and ...."
"Hey," he said gently, smiling. "Sure. Sure I will." He rose and walked toward the bedroom. "Just let me get something that will make it easier. You settle back on the couch and relax. I'll be right back."
She couldn't suppress a frown. Easier? She had no intention of actually LETTING him hypnotize her. She was just going to ACT as if he was putting her into a trance. She planned to go along and see what he did with a girl once he had her "under." But if he brought back some sort of drug or something, she'd have to put a stop to the whole thing.
And he walked back in with a piece of cut crystal dangling from a short monofilament line. With his free hand, he moved a chair so that it was facing of her, and he sat down and dangled the thing in front of her eyes. "Lean back and look at the crystal," he told her in a matter-of-fact voice ... not the tone of voice she expected to hear from a hypnotist at all. "Lean back and relax, please."
"Promise me that if you make me act like a chicken, you won't let me remember it," she said timidly.
Okay, she told herself, here we go. She knew that he'd be able to see whether the muscles of her arms and hands were tense or relaxed, so as she leaned back, she visibly relaxed them for his benefit. And she knew he was looking directly at her eyes, so she concentrated her sight on the shining crystal orb as its facets fractured the room's lights into a myriad of colors that filled her vision. She would relax. She would do what he told her. But she would NOT fall asleep when he commanded ... she would just pretend. Will power, Donna! Stay with the plan!
"Just relax and look at the crystal. Listen only to my voice. Relax. Yes, that's it. And now tell me, please, why it is that you are so tired. Didn't you get any sleep last night?"
This startled her, but she stayed relaxed for his benefit ... she kept her eyes on the crystal. She hadn't expected that he would ask her a question. "Um ... no. I only got a few hours sleep this morning." Which was the truth, of course. She wouldn't tell him a lie ... she would just withhold a few things.
"Ah, that explains it, then. I could tell that you were very tired. I could see it. I could sense that you were very, very weary. You don't have to sleep, if you don't want to. But if you relaxed even more, you might not feel so very tired. It might help. It might."
And she gazed into the crystal and felt confused. She didn't have to fall asleep? Wasn't that what he was trying to get her to do? The plan was to pretend to be asleep ... but not actually fall asleep ... when he told her to go to sleep. But if he wasn't going to tell her to do that, what was she going to .... Oh, she was SO tired! How did he know she hadn't had enough sleep? Okay, change of plans. She would relax more for him, because he was watching her very closely, and if she relaxed more and more, then maybe she wouldn't feel so tired. So very, very tired.
"And relax even more now. Yes, that's it. And you will see only the crystal. Hear only my voice. And relax. Deeper and deeper. More and more relaxed. Yes, I know you are very tired. I understand, since you haven't had enough sleep. Not enough sleep. I know. SO tired. How do you feel, Donna?"
"SO tired," she replied immediately, because it was true. Relaxing wasn't helping very much. Maybe if she tried relaxing even more ....
"And what do you see?"
"Very good. What else do you see? Relax even more and tell me."
And now she hesitated. She relaxed even more and said "Nothing else. I can't see anything else ...." Because it was true. Oh-gosh-oh-gosh-oh-gosh, she thought, he's doing it. It's happening. He's hypnotizing me.
"And what do you hear? Tell me everything you can hear. Relax even more and tell me."
"Your voice. Only your voice." Oh-gosh-oh-gosh-oh-gosh. Time for another change of plans. But there WAS no time now. She relaxed even more for him. It was happening again. She was going to be a victim again. Always the victim ... always the victim. Would she wake up nude somewhere across town? Would she even remember him?
"You're SO tired, aren't you?"
"You're SO sleepy."
"I'll count to three, and then I'll let you surrender to me, and I'll let you sleep. That's what you want to do more than anything else, isn't it, Donna. You want to sleep SO badly."
"One ... two ... three."
And her eyes closed all by themselves, and she surrendered herself, because it was the only way that he would let her sleep. But this was nothing new, really. She'd been surrendering her whole life. Surrendering was what she was best at.
And he talked to her, and talked and talked. And she listened and she obeyed, because she WANTED to obey. And then she was standing on a mountainous ridge, looking down on a small village in a valley, far below. And it was all so REAL, because in the clear air, she could see smoke winding up from a few of the chimneys, and lights in the windows, and the trees were greener than any she'd ever seen, and sky was bluer than blue. And she started walking down, down, down. And with every step, she went deeper and deeper into her trance. Deeper and deeper still. She stopped by a little stream, running rapidly down the steep slope, and she took off her clothes and bathed in the frigid waters, and she felt fresh and she was cleaner than clean. And the water was her consciousness, and it was running down and down and down, and she walked beside it, nude and clean and fresh and filled with joy, deeper and deeper. Until she was finally in the valley, and she was as deep as she could possibly go; and the door of one of the cabins opened, and Brett walked out. And he walked right up to her and said: "Wake up, Donna."
And she did.
He was standing above her, so she stood up from the couch and just looked at him. He reached out and took both of her hands in his, but left them down at her sides, and they didn't speak for the longest time and they just looked at each other, silent, intimate, close.
"I should take you home," he said quietly.
She was very surprised to find that her eyes were suddenly overflowing, and with a catch in her throat, she pulled her hands free and flung them around his neck, standing on tiptoes, her wet eyes buried in the side of his neck. "Please don't make me leave, Brett. Please don't."
He tilted his face down to answer her, and so she pulled his lips down to her own, and she was suddenly lost in his embrace. He finally moved his hands to her sides, her back, sliding them up, down, crushing her to him. She moaned loudly into his mouth.
He pulled away from her slightly, and drank her in with his eyes.
"Please, Brett. Please take me!"
He hesitated. "Um ... Donna ... I, um ...." He looked almost panicked. "I don't have any protection."
She laughed up at him breathlessly. "I'm on the pill," she said in a meek voice. "And I haven't been with a man in a long time ... more than a year. I'm clean. Are you ...uh ... I mean ...."
"Yes," he answered. "It's been a long time for me, too. Almost a year."
"A year?" How could she believe that about a guy she found so ...? Well ... SHE thought he was a hunk, anyway. And even if he WAS lying, even if he WAS the Stateline Rapist, the one thing they DID know about the guy was that he didn't have any sexually transmitted diseases.
Her hands flew to the buttons of his shirt and she began undoing them.
She stopped. "Oh, you think I'm ... You think I'm a slut, don't you? You think I'm just a hussy and that I'm loose and ...."
With a sob, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.
"Donna, I want you, too. I want you very much. But we have all night. Now, let go. Turn around ... I want to see you. I want to touch you."
Confused, she turned in his arms until her back was to him, and for the first time, noticed an antique mirror on the far wall, facing them. As she watched, his hands began caressing her stomach, her breasts, her neck, and just like the pimp did the night before, he began hiking the dress up slowly, slowly, revealing first her thighs, her thong panties, her stomach, her breasts.
"Arms up," her ordered softly, and she didn't hesitate as he lifted the dress up and off of her. She closed her eyes as he did so, and now, as she opened them again, she observed herself, naked, save for the thong and high heels, and watched breathlessly as his hands began to roam all over her body.
She couldn't take the inaction any more, and she turned around again and clutched him and pulled his face down to hers again and began kissing him aggressively, passionately ... and then lost herself in the feeling of it. The excitement overwhelmed her, and for the first time, she WANTED to be the victim, to surrender herself entirely to him. With a squeal, she found herself horizontal and in his arms, and he was carrying her into the bedroom, where he threw her onto her back on the bed, and with a single smooth, swift motion, he pulled the thong down her legs and off. The high heels seemed to leap from her feet of their own accord, and she lay naked and wide-eyed and breathless as he quickly removed his clothing.
His cock wasn't as large as some she had seen, but it was hard and virile and it arched upward toward his stomach. For a moment, she couldn't take her eyes off of it, and she found herself breathing even more heavily as she tried to imagine what it was going to feel like inside her. She'd never felt this way. Every other time she'd been with a man ... every single time ... she had simply been passive, overwhelmed by the man's strength, his force, his persistence, his demands. But now, she WANTED this. She'd never wanted anything so much in her whole life! In the back of her mind, she wondered if he had manufactured this feeling ... this urge ... through his deep hypnosis. Because she HAD been deep ... so very deep. But that didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that he should take her ... use her ... that she should please him, no matter what his desires might be.
She rolled over, and keeping her eyes on his cock, she crawled on the bed toward it. But he grasped her by the shoulders and pushed her back again. And suddenly he was with her, holding her, clutching her, kissing her lips, her face, her neck, her chest. Her breasts were small, and she wished she had more to offer him in that department, but her nipples ached and she knew they were swollen and hard. He sucked one into his mouth savagely, and she strained up at him, arching, clutching, her fingers laced in his hair, pulling him closer. Her groans were punctuated with rapid inhalations as she tried to breathe; gasp, moan, gasp, moan.
His hand was somehow on the flat of her stomach, sliding downward, lower, lower, and she spread herself wide for his benefit, until his palm was covering her entire pubic region, grinding into her, clutching her down there, kneading her, rubbing her. Without warning, a small orgasm shot through her like an electric jolt, and she let out a short stutter of a scream, straining up into the relentless hand.
As she came down from that first little pinnacle, she forced herself to let go of him with her right hand, and she reached down between them and grasped his cock. She could barely reach him from this position, but he groaned into her nipple, then relinquished it and slid up, nuzzling her neck, so that she had better access to that part of him. She squeezed lightly, stroked him, let go and cupped his balls, squeezed again, and he froze and shuddered a moment before assaulting her lips, kissing her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her eager mouth. She suckled it, and shuddered herself as his palm scraped savagely across her clitoris.
Suddenly, he pulled free; and he was between her widely spread legs, positioning himself for the ultimate assault, and she reached back down and grasped him again, guiding his cock to her wet opening. She was surprised by the amount of her own juices, which seemed to coat her whole nether region. She felt it with the back of her hand as she led him to his goal. And when he was finally inside of her, she relinquished her grip, used both hands to grasp his buttocks, and tried to pull him into her quickly, but he resisted. He was being damn slow about it! He pushed into her, inch by agonizing inch; strong and relentless, but slowly ... oh, so slowly! She tried to push herself down toward him, tried to pull his hips toward her, and finally opened her eyes and yelled "Please!" in a harsh whisper while looking up at his face, but he laughed and made her blush at her own incredible need ... and finally, finally, he was all the way in. She ground herself up into him, feeling her pubic hair pressing into his, and she threw her arms around him and thought that she had never felt so close to another human being in her life.
He began to set up a rhythm, pumping in and out of her, sliding easily up and down because of her slick moisture. But it only lasted a minute before he uttered a curse, stiffened, pushed hard into her as far as he could, then, seemingly, an inch more, and she felt his cock jerking inside her ... jerking, twitching, as his orgasm claimed him. Her hands roamed his back and sides and chest, and his muscles were hard, his whole body straining, his cock jerking inside her. Her own orgasm had begun to build, but she wasn't quite ready yet. That didn't matter ... she glowed in the rapture of knowing that she had brought his pleasure, and when his cock gave one last lurch, touching her cervix, he collapsed heavily on top of her, and she held him.
He stayed like that for a long minute, then rolled off of her, onto his back beside her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't wait. It's been so long."
She rolled onto her side, facing him, and trailed her fingertips lightly over his body. "It's okay, Brett. It felt wonderful," she told him, meaning it. But when her petting hand slid over his cock, it twitched and he brought his right hand up to his face and he moaned loudly. The cock swelled against her hand.
"Well, well. What have we here?" she asked softly. Quickly, she slid down, and before he knew what she was doing, she had taken his semi-limp penis into her sucking mouth. She had done this before to men ... they had made her do it ... but this was different, somehow. She had expected to taste herself, her own fluids, and she did. But when men had forced her to do this before following a round of sex, there had been a salty taste, a sort of ... well ... a unique taste ... that was missing now. But the effect of her sucking was exactly what she had hoped to achieve. He was growing, stiffening, swelling. She used her hand and began to stroke him, and after another long minute, she cupped and squeezed his balls, the way she had before. He cried out, then sat up in bed, grabbed her roughly, lifting her and spinning her around so that she was on her knees.
He was behind her now, and she grabbed a pillow and lowered her head onto it, then clutched it in her arms, feeling him behind her, between her spread legs, his knees between her own. And she felt him as he slid his engorged cock up and down her slit, dipping into her sex, pulling out, sliding up and down again, poking into her again. Then he grasped her hips and pushed himself in. In this position, of course, he was deeper than before. He thrust into her hard, over and over, his body slap-slap-slapping against her buttocks. Then he pushed all the way in, making her moan deeply. But he didn't cum inside her this time. Instead, he put his hand around her throat and pulled her up as he bent forward, so that his chest was against her back, so that his lips were pressed lightly against her right ear.
"Tell me what you're feeling!" he whispered.
She gasped a few times, her mind spinning, but she answered immediately, truthfully. "I'm a little animal. Helpless. A little girl animal. A victim to the male animals. Little girl animals don't understand what's happening to them. Their only instinct is to surrender. Nature makes them surrender. That's what I am. That's what I'm doing."
He let go of her, and she plopped back forward, and his body slap-slap-slapped against her three quick times, and the orgasm began to build again. But then he pulled out, making her cry out in disappointment, and he rolled away from her, back onto his back beside her.
"Get on me!" he ordered savagely. "Get on top of me now!"
She rose to her hands, kneeling beside him, and tried to figure out what he meant. She had never done that before. Men had always taken her, always on top of her or behind her, always in charge, always the aggressors. Tentatively, timidly, she crawled over him, straddling him. His cock was hard and stiff against his stomach, and for a moment, she couldn't figure out how to get it lined up for entry. Then she bent forward, pressing her breasts into his hairy chest, reached down, grasping him, fumbled his manhood against her until it slipped in, and then pressed downward, filling herself with him.