Wolf's Clothing Ch. 02byToughLiberalism©
Alice Hastings stared at the screen, unable to tear her eyes from the image. It was grainy and poorly focused, as befitted a photograph taken with a concealed camera, but there was no mistaking what she could see. At the centre was a girl's pretty face, her eyes wide open in fear. They were focused on something directly in front of her.
The girl's mouth was slightly open, showing off a perfect set of bee-stung lips. Her face was framed by black hair, tousled as if its owner had been in a struggle. Little could be seen of the girl's body, since the picture stopped just below her neck. But her bare shoulders indicated that she was naked, and even in the limited shot there was enough to show her arms bent back unnaturally. Evidently she had been restrained.
The only other thing in the photograph was part of a man's physique. Only his mid-section could be seen, from his torso to his upper thighs, but he was clearly strongly built. The picture had been taken from behind him, as he stood facing the girl. The disparity in their heights suggested that she was kneeling before him. He was wearing black trousers and a dark top. In front of his crotch, only just visible due to the position from which the scene was captured, it was possible to make out the naked tip of his erect cock. It was this obscene protrusion at which the girl's eyes were staring, transfixed like a rabbit in the headlights. The man was pointing it directly towards her face.
Alice reflected, with a dark sense of amusement, that in 99% of occupations it would have been grounds for dismissal to keep looking at this picture on her computer screen in the office. But for Alice, on her current assignment for the Special Branch of the Metropolitan Police, it was legitimate work. The image had been taken and sent covertly a few weeks ago by the man Alice knew as Campbell Sinclair, who was working undercover to infiltrate and bring down a powerful and well-funded international group of people traffickers. This organisation made it their business to kidnap young western women and sell them as sex slaves to wealthy buyers around the world. The girl in the picture had been a promising trainee lawyer until she was taken. Now she was well beyond the reach of the law.
Legitimate work though it undoubtedly was, the picture exerted a peculiar hold over Alice, which went way beyond her professional responsibilities. She had long since extracted every relevant detail to be gained from it for investigative purposes, yet she repeatedly returned to it. In recent days she had even broken the rules by saving it on her memory stick and taking it home to view again. Surveillance material was governed by strict protocols, foremost of which was the absolute ban on removing anything from the heavily protected computers in the office.
It was not unusual for Alice to become engrossed in her work. Sometimes her single-minded pursuit of intelligence, which would help to bring down dangerous criminals, bordered on obsession. Initially her interest in the photograph had been of this nature, and her only emotional responses had been a strong sense of disgust at the man and pity for the girl. Yet over time her reaction had evolved, and for some time she had remained in denial about the disturbing evidence of her own mind and body. When she looked at the scene, her mind could not help imagining herself in the girl's place. This sensation might have been explained away as an understandable sense of empathy over the terrible plight of a fellow human being, had it not been for the simultaneous involuntary reaction of her body. After spending time gazing at the picture, Alice always felt a tell-tale moistening between her legs. There was no doubt that she was experiencing an inexplicable desire to be the girl in the picture.
The situation was compounded by the detailed, and consequently graphic, reports which she received from Campbell about all the group's acquisitions. Time and again she read about a fruitless flight from capture, a frantic struggle with an inevitable outcome, the application of tight bonds and a subsequent transport into captivity. To Alice, these reports reminded her perversely of the adventure books she had enjoyed so much as a girl. She had always been drawn to the passages in which Nancy Drew or some other hapless heroine had been kidnapped by the villains, before being bound and gagged to await a terrible fate.
But in those stories rescue or escape had always come. Bizarrely, the young Alice had always felt a slight disappointment when the hero arrived or a conveniently sited sharp blade was found, allowing the captive to cut her way to freedom. As Alice had got older and had her first sexual encounters, she soon realised that there were very different possible endings to these stories, which were never told in the books. In these endings the heroes did not arrive and the heroines ended up being stripped and subjected to the depraved attentions of their captors. There was something in these scenarios which awakened a latent desire in the dark recesses of Alice's mind, and her fertile imagination was perfectly capable of constructing them for her own entertainment. As time went on she sometimes found herself secretly picturing herself in these tales, often while she tried to enliven disappointing sexual encounters with her boyfriends.
With Campbell's reports, she needed to fabricate nothing. The young women's fates were described in graphic detail, right up to the point at which they were transported off to their new lives as sex slaves. He saw them no more after that, but many of them had already been forced to satisfy their captors' lusts in a disturbing range of ways. This was always carried out as part of their training. Certain buyers preferred to receive a slave already broken in, while others liked to do the job themselves. When training was required, Alice had learned that it was generally the prerogative of the abduction team leader to carry it out. This was considered one of the main perks of the job, and consequently Campbell had seen and heard a great deal of what went on.
After an unproductive day at the office Alice left for home. No new information had been received from Campbell for some time now and she had made little progress with the existing body of material. In fact, she had wasted a good deal of time dwelling on the picture and Campbell's descriptions of the group's activities. She had become frustrated, partly at her lack of success in bringing down the group, and partly, she was forced to admit to herself, at her strong need for sexual release. At one point she had even visited the ladies' toilets to give herself some satisfaction, but as she leaned against the cubicle wall with her skirt hiked up and her panties pulled down, she had become so disgusted with herself that she had given up and returned to her desk unfulfilled.
It did not help that she had not actually had sex since Campbell had gone undercover some months before. On his departure they had made no commitments to each other. His future was so uncertain that it would have seemed presumptuous to do so. Yet dating somebody else would have felt like cheating to Alice. Moreover the work demanded so much of her that there was little time left for any socialising, romantic or otherwise.
The short relationship she had enjoyed with Campbell had been the most physically satisfying she had ever known, either in spite or because of the fact that they had both been only too aware of its expiry date. They had not discussed personal issues because Campbell had been carefully constructing his false identity at the time and because there seemed to be so little chance of a future together. But they had clearly connected on a very meaningful level. She had sensed a certain strength of character in him right from the moment they had first shaken hands, and he had given her no reason to change her mind during their time together.
It was in the bedroom that they really reached the heights. For some reason she instinctively placed more trust in him than she had in previous boyfriends, and this allowed her to lose some of her carefully guarded sexual inhibitions. She allowed him to take the lead and use her body freely, she felt more turned on than ever before at the thought of pleasing him and for the first time she experienced no embarrassment at the noises she made as he teased her body to orgasm. She revelled in closing her eyes, clasping her hands together above her head and writhing on the bed, while he used his fingers to play her like an instrument and gradually brought her to spectacular climax.
These were the thoughts that filled her mind as she took her commute home through London, pretending to read as she sat on the tube. They remained with her as she walked home to the flat she was renting for the duration of her assignment with Special Branch. By the time she placed her key in the lock she was feeling more sexually frustrated than ever, and she lost no time in switching on her laptop and inserting the memory stick containing the files she had brought from work. She slipped out of her jacket, kicked off her shoes, removed her tights and sat down on the sofa in front of the screen, knowing full well where this was going to lead.
Alice had several options to choose from as she looked at the files listed in front of her. Like many women, she was normally more turned on by words than by pictures, although she was forced to admit that the recent photo had been an exception. Therefore she chose the report which Campbell had written to go with the image. She knew it almost word for word by now, having devoured it at work a number of times in the name of the investigation.
This time there was no pretence of doing her job. Within a couple of minutes of reading, by which time the poor woman had been grabbed as she left work, locked in the boot of her own car, and was now being dragged for inspection by somebody called The Postman, Alice had hitched up her skirt, pulled down her panties and was stroking her clit.
By the time the victim had been relieved of her clothing and was having her breasts played with by the leader of the team which had abducted her, Alice had got into a rhythm, running her nimble index finger over her sensitive bud. As the girl was bent forcibly over a desk, hands pinned behind her back and legs spread wide apart, so that her arse and pussy could be checked, Alice's breath started to come more heavily. Most notably, when the captive struggled in her humiliating position, and was given a hard slap to the rear by her kidnapper, forcing her to scream into the gag which had been stuffed into her mouth, Alice involuntarily cried out herself as she came.
The orgasm was the result of all of Alice's pent up arousal from the day. She was hot and bothered, angry at herself for being turned on by such vile material, and seriously frustrated at not being able to do anything about it until now. She felt as if she had betrayed all her fellow women the world over and single-handedly rolled back the tide of years of feminist gains. Somehow the self-loathing made her climax all the more intense. Alice worked her finger back and forth against her clit as she shuddered on the sofa and found her muscles spontaneously thrusting her crotch up from the seat and against her slender but insistent hand. Closing her eyes, she found the sight of her mundane living room replaced by a vision of the girl's arse, shapely and vulnerable in its exposure, with a man's red hand print starting to take shape on it, standing out against the pale and unblemished surrounding flesh.
As Alice's breathing slowed and she recovered from her orgasm, she slumped in her seat. She was somewhat disappointed at having come so soon, knowing that the most arousing parts of the report were the more extreme sexual scenes yet to be read. Absent-mindedly she proceeded with Campbell's concise, almost curt prose, and barely realising it she found her hand sliding between her legs once more. This time her clit was more sensitive and she treated herself more gently, barely making contact as she softly caressed her most intimate area.
She read about how The Postman declared the woman fit for purpose and left her with the men who had taken her, Campbell amongst them. When she had first read the report in the office, she had reflected on the fact that it was strange that The Postman inspected all the victims, yet never seemed to touch them or show any desire to use them himself. On this occasion he had left the team leader with instructions that the girl's prospective buyer wanted her broken in advance, before disappearing in an expensive car.
But these details did not trouble Alice now. She was far too caught up with what happened to the girl afterwards. The team leader announced that he was going to start her training immediately, and used a length of rope to bind her hands tightly behind her back. He then pushed her to her knees and unstrapped the gag before pulling it from her mouth. 'Let's see if this slut knows what to do with a fat cock,' he announced to the other men, evidently having no compunctions about using her in front of his colleagues.
So saying, he moved in front of the girl, unzipping his trousers and releasing his cock as he did so. He made her take in the view before forcing her to suck him, and it was at this point that Campbell must have managed to take the photograph. Alice opened the image and gazed once more at the captive's terrified face, eyes fixed on the tool he was about to use to ravage her mouth. Alice looked with envy at the girl's dark, almond-shaped eyes and full lips, wishing she had such distinctive features. But most of all she felt that insane sense of longing to swap places with the girl and to kneel, bound and helpless before her captor, her face nothing but a toy for him to use for his pleasure.
Alice's levels of arousal were growing once more and she found herself able to stroke her clit a little more strongly. With her other hand she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled down one of the cups of her bra, playing with the nipple she exposed. She took her glasses off, leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, knowing almost by heart what came next from the many times she had read Campbell's report. Instead of reading, her mind's eye allowed her to become part of the scene, waiting, like the girl, for her mouth to be filled against her will.
It did not take long. Alice pictured the man stepping towards her, his hard cock brushing against her face as he did so. She could almost smell his testosterone-fuelled scent and see his glistening tip. She remembered Campbell's description of how he grabbed a handful of the girl's dark hair, but in her version it was her own reddish brown locks which were seized mercilessly. With her hair being used as a handle and her wrists bound behind her, there was little she could do to resist the impending oral abuse. But she imagined her instincts forcing her to fight and the fictional Alice kept her mouth firmly closed in defiance.
But it was all to no avail. She pictured the man tugging on her hair and could almost feel the sharp pain as he did so. Opening her mouth to cry out, she found it filled with the biggest cock she had ever encountered. She did not know how large the man was in reality, although the image suggested a fair size. Campbell had not seen fit to include such details in his report. But in the version which was playing out right now in Alice's mind, the team leader's manhood was huge. Her lips were prised wide open uncomfortably as they accommodated him and she gagged immediately at the intrusion. But her imaginary abuser had no mercy, using his grip on her hair to force her to stay still while he pushed himself further and further into her distended mouth.
Finally Alice imagined the sensation of his cock touching the back of her throat and he stopped pushing. She heard her real self groaning with arousal at the very idea. She was approaching her second orgasm fast by now, and there was no turning back. She could see herself so vividly in the scene, her face now impaled on the man's firm member. 'Look at me!' she imagined the man ordering her, and her fictional self obeyed immediately. She looked up from her debased position, finding it hard to imagine seeing anything other than the man's dark clothing which was directly in front of her face, but eventually managing to picture a pair of cruel eyes looking down at her.
The real Alice wondered if her imaginary self would be able to see the other men in the room in her peripheral vision. What would they be doing? Would they be taunting her? Would they be reaching for their own cocks, desperate for a turn with her? Most importantly, how would Campbell react? Would he risk his cover and life to save her or would he simply sit there and keep silence? Might he even be turned on by seeing another man's cock sunk to the balls in her throat?
Alice tore her mind away from Campbell. His disturbing presence was not the most arousing aspect of the scene. Instead she focused on what she knew came next from his description. The girl had been humiliated further by being forced to walk around on her knees, with the man's cock still in her mouth. For some reason Alice found this absolute degradation one of the biggest turn-ons of all, and she imagined the grip in her hair tightening, holding her head securely against the man's crotch, her face still fully slotted onto his cock, as he started to take small steps backwards. In this position she had no choice but to follow, and she pictured herself doing so with difficulty. Her tightly bound hands made the enforced contact between her head and the man's body her only means of balance, and she found herself leaning further into him, his cock entering her even more until it felt as if he occupied every square millimetre of her mouth. She shuffled on her bare knees, almost feeling the rough sensation of the carpet as she followed him around the room. She could very nearly hear the cruel laughter of the other men as they watched the sport being made of her.
By this point the real Alice was gasping on the sofa as she worked her finger over her clit and rushed towards another intense climax. She was on auto-pilot now and she knew exactly what came next. The man wanted satisfaction and she was going to imagine him taking it from her, just as he had done from the real girl in the report. He stopped moving around the room and held her still, while she attempted to breathe around his cock after the exertion through which he had put her. 'Now suck it,' he instructed. 'Suck it like the whore that you are.'
Alice imagined him loosening his grip in her hair to allow her some more leeway, no longer forcing her to deep-throat him. But still he controlled the interaction. She pictured his huge cock pumping in and out of her parted lips and knew that in this situation, for some inexplicable reason, she would do her utmost to behave like a whore and give her tormentor the pleasure he craved. She imagined herself doing her best to use her tongue to increase the man's enjoyment of the blowjob, just as she had done to her boyfriends in very different and much less intense circumstances. She tried to keep her mouth as wet as possible to allow his cock to pass without friction, all the while following his orders to look up into his eyes as far as she could. Finally she sensed his cock twitch and she knew that he was about to come.
At the last moment she knew from the report that the man would pull her head off of his cock and blow his seed all over her face. But he never got that far, because the real Alice beat him to the orgasm. Arching her back once more she moaned into her living room and felt the muscles in her loins contract for the second time. Then she relaxed, her breathing gradually subsiding as she came down from the climax and left the black haired girl to take the full force of her captor's load.