Warden's Wife Pays His Debt Ch. 02

This story is posted on the Literotica website; the author does not give permission for it to be reposted or reprinted anywhere else without consent. This chapter picks up right where the first one left off...it is good as a standalone story, but I would recommend reading chapter one if you haven't done so already.

*****

Police departments from San Francisco to Mountain View converged to create a special task force to hunt down and capture the elusive Peninsula Rapist, as he was known at the time. Myles Dickenson had fueled the frenzy by calling into the assault case hotline following each rape from a payphone near the location to provide the crime scene address and other sordid details. He would make sure to provide highlights of each woman's naked body and the position they would find her in when they arrived. He would also tell them how many times each victim came on his huge cock.

The task force grew more and more frustrated with each passing assault. While DNA science was still quite elementary at the time, the physical evidence pointed to the same brazen perpetrator in each case. While they were unable to come up with a composite sketch of his face, certain well-documented facts helped create a distinct profile of the assailant: 20 to 30 years old; Caucasian medium colored skin; Light-colored short cropped hair; 6'-1" to 6'-3" in height; Approximately 200 pounds; Muscle covered physique; Extremely long and thick penis; Enormous testicles that produce large volume of ejaculate; Insatiable appetite for sex.

The details from nearly every victim and crime scene were basically the same as well: Young, attractive wife or girlfriend; Significant other almost always present at time of assault; Affluent background; San Francisco Bay Area Peninsula resident; Male victim Tasered, bound, and forced to watch; Female victim bound, blindfolded, and raped repeatedly; From the third assault on, the perpetrator videotaped the crime.

Based on the case similarities, especially the fact that each victim was extremely attractive and possessed a very desirable body, the task force was convinced these were not random acts, but rather a choreographed plan by a cunning individual who in some way was familiar with his victims prior to his crimes.

In meeting after meeting, the most seasoned detectives in the area, with assistance from the FBI, racked their frustrated brains trying to figure out the connection between the crimes. None of the victims knew each other, nor did they share any social connection or past geographical similarities other than currently residing in a 40 mile radius on the west side of San Francisco Bay.

Meanwhile, the rapes continued.

One evening about 2 years after the first reported assault, detective Larry Golding, a grizzled veteran of the San Mateo Police Department, sat in the study of his Belmont home reviewing the details of the Peninsula Rapist case as he had so many nights before. Suddenly, he heard the ringing of his doorbell. At first it struck him as odd that someone would be visiting their home at 7:30 p.m., but then he recalled his wife telling him at dinner that she was trying out a grocery delivery service and they'd be coming over later.

He went about his work as he heard his wife answer the door and welcome the delivery driver. A few minutes later his wife and the man shared a laugh as she walked him to the door. Not really listening, but unable to ignore the conversation, Larry overheard the delivery driver say, "San Francisco to Mountain View..." At first it didn't register with him as he glanced down at a dotted map showing all of the Peninsula rapists assault locations, but then something clicked in his brain just as he heard the front door open and his wife say, "I'm sure going to like having this service, I hope your company leaders figure out a way to make money doing it without raising prices..."

"Yes, me too," the driver answered, "I really like the job, it has lots of other fringe benefits as well!" He said before he laughed loudly.

Just then Larry Golding popped his head out of his office and eyed the tall, well groomed, mid-20's delivery driver, "Hey there, did I hear you say something about San Francisco to Mountain View?"

"Oh yes sir, I was just telling your wife here, that is my delivery area."

"Hmm...what is the name of your company again?"

"It's called Webvan sir, we are an online grocery delivery service, I'm sure you've seen our trucks around..."

"Yes, I'm sure I have. Say, how many drivers do you have working there?"

"There are about 100 of us that work out of the Foster City warehouse, but only a handful of us have been around since the company's beginning."

"And how long ago was that?"

"A little over two years ago, time flies when you're having fun!" The driver replied with a big smile. "Speaking of that, I should get going, I have another delivery to make tonight!"

"A little over two years huh?" The detective asked with a quizzical tone in his voice.

"Oh Larry, that's enough with the third degree, let this nice young man get to his final delivery so he isn't out all night!" Barbara Golding said to her husband with a small irritated laugh.

"Sure thing honey..." the detective replied as he turned back towards his office. He took a couple of steps in that direction before he turned and asked the delivery driver, "Hey I didn't catch your name son...?"

"Myles...Myles Dickenson sir!"

*****

That night a gorgeous Asian wife and mother of two received Myles Dickenson's final delivery...it just happened to be captured on videotape.

Three days later, following a search of his Antioch apartment, the Webvan Rapist was behind bars. Less than a year later, Myles Dickenson was shipped to San Quentin and Webvan.com declared bankruptcy.

*****

Webvan had really fucked up hiring Myles Dickenson. The grocery delivery company had been on rocky ground its entire short-term existence, but this inexcusable tragedy was the final straw in its ultimate demise.

The trial had been quite the circus, as for most Northern Californians it was as much an examination of the well-documented failures of the once promising dot-com darling, as it was about the brutal crimes committed by one of the most brazen rapists in Bay Area history.

The trial venue was moved across the bay to Berkeley at the request of Dickenson's lawyer, an up and coming public defender named Mark Lambert. It was a brilliant move on the part of the young attorney as he knew that most of the judges in that jurisdiction were more liberal than any in the state.

The San Mateo County D.A.'s office barely objected to the motion as they had so much evidence against Dickenson they believed a change of venue was nothing more than an inconsequential inconvenience.

During the warranted search of the defendant's apartment, the task force detectives and criminologists discovered the backpack that Myles had used during the course of each of his crimes. Inside they found the stolen video equipment and tri-pod, the stolen Taser device, a six-inch hunting knife, a dark beanie with eyes, nose, and mouth cutouts, duct tape, rubber gloves, two blindfolds, and a bag full of zip ties. The zip ties were an exact match to those used at each and every crime scene.

But all of that evidence paled in comparison to the treasure trove the library of video tapes provided.

The D.A. lawyers and detectives had all gotten together and celebrated at the stupidity of the high school dropout who videotaped nearly all of his heinous crimes, essentially implicating himself before ever going to trial. The prosecution team believed that with all the physical evidence, the video tapes, and testimony by the victims, they had an iron clad case for multiple rape convictions and one case for murder in the first degree. They intended to pursue the death penalty.

But Myles Dickenson and his young, talented attorney had other ideas.

Lambert knew that Dickenson was guilty of all of the accused crimes; Myles had basically told him as much in their pre-trial planning meetings. But as the two of them formulated their defense, they felt quite confident they could keep Myles from the gas chamber and possibly achieve other concessions from the exceedingly liberal judge, Andrew Townsend III.

Unfortunately for Mark Lambert, Myles Dickenson had a bombshell to drop on day one of the trial which would put the defense on their heels right from the outset...but it nonetheless provided Myles a deranged sense of "rubbing it in the noses of his victims and their families" satisfaction. He waited until the trial began to unveil it.

As they led the smartly-dressed, ruggedly-handsome defendant into court, Myles glanced around at all of his attractive former victims and their significant others with a cocky, prideful grin on his face. Most of the women couldn't bring themselves to make eye contact with him...not because they were afraid, but because of how ashamed they were at how they had responded when he fucked the shit out of each and every one of them.

When the judge announced, "The Case of the People of California vs. Myles Dickenson," Myles rose and interrupted with his unanticipated request, "Excuse me your honor, but I have a document that shows my name has been legally changed and I would ask that the court refer to me by it throughout this trial."

Murmurs permeated the crowd as Mark Lambert and the judge both stared at Myles in disbelief.

"Mr. Dickenson, this is highly unusual behavior as your lawyer is the appointed voice of your defense and all motions and objectives should be channeled through him...but I will make an exception as you are new to this courtroom. Bailiff, can you please retrieve the document from Mr. Dickenson."

After reading the court approved legal document, the judge announced to the courtroom, "I'm not sure how he achieved this while incarcerated, but the defendant has legally undergone a name change, let the record show that we will now try the case of, "The People of the State of California vs. Mylo Dickenson."

The former Myles rose again, "Sorry to be a pain in the ass your honor, but you are also mispronouncing my last name."

"Mr. Dickenson, I gave you one warning, any additional outbursts or use of profanity in this courtroom will result in you being held in contempt of court. Now what are you talking about? Is "Dick-en-son" not the proper pronunciation, I've never heard that surname pronounced any other way?"

"Your honor the proper pronunciation is 'Dick-is-in'! It's kind of like the Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre being pronounced 'Farve'."

More gasps, murmurs, and a few thoughtless chuckles filtered through the courtroom.

Judge Townsend immediately understood the intended ruse being played by Mylo Dickenson, but he was powerless to overrule the defendant's request. He glared with a look of disgust at Mylo who was smiling from ear to ear, "Okay please let the record show that the defendant's surname is pronounced 'Dick-is-in'! Now if there are no other interruptions let us begin the case of, "The People of the State of California vs. Mylo Dickenson."

Again there was unrest in the courtroom when the judge pronounced the accused rapist's name as My-lo Dick-is-in.

The shit eating grin never left Mylo's face. His lawyer looked at him and thought to himself, "I can't believe I am defending this piece of shit."

Over the course of the first few days of the trial, the prosecution succinctly presented the evidence against Mylo with little objection from the defense. All of the physical evidence pointed to Mylo as the clear and obvious perpetrator in each and every one of the rapes.

It wasn't until day 4 of the trial that the prosecution called Carla Youngblood to the stand.

Myles thought she looked really hot in her conservative below the knee dress. He could see her pert tits jiggle beneath the fabric and immediately recalled how good they'd looked when he sprayed his final load all over them before departing her house that night.

Carla led the district attorney through a tearful account of her rape at the hands of the accused. She recounted being bound and assaulted repeatedly while her husband was forced to watch. When her testimony was complete, the jury, made up mostly of women, appeared horrified at the unthinkable way that Mylo Dickenson had assaulted the poor young housewife. Eventually the prosecution said they had no more questions.

The first question asked by Mark Lambert on cross examination was, "Did you orgasm when you were allegedly assaulted by Mylo Dickenson?"

Immediately the D.A. objected.

The judge overruled.

Carla Youngblood was not prepared for the question and immediately a panicked expression came across her face. She looked at the D.A. and then at her husband who sat in the front row holding their two-year-old child. Finally she spoke, "...um I...um..yes..."

"Sorry Miss Youngblood, I don't believe everyone heard your response, can you repeat it more loudly."

"...Yes...yes I did."

At first, the jury members looked at her with a compassionate gaze, wondering how this was relevant and why the judge let the question be asked in the first place. Then when the second question was answered, most had a distinctly different reaction.

"Miss Youngblood, please tell the courtroom how many orgasms you experienced the night of the alleged assault?"

Again the young brunette looked around the courtroom like a dear in headlights, "Um...I don't really remember sir..."

"Let me remind you Miss Youngblood you are under oath, was it more than five?"

"Carla Youngblood stared down into her lap before subtly glancing at Mylo for the first time, she answered, "Yes, I believe so..."

Murmurs again rang out through the crowd.

"Miss Youngblood is it true that you announced each time you orgasmed with a statement similar to 'I'm cuumminngg'?"

"Objection, how is this relevant your honor," the assistant D.A. shouted.

"I will allow the question, but Mr. Lambert please bring this line of questioning to a point or I will be forced to shut you down! Miss Youngblood, please answer the question."

"Oh God...uh Yes I believe I did..."

Again the crowd in the courtroom became unsettled before the judge quieted them down.

"Last question, so Miss Youngblood, you suggest that you were taken against your will and forced to have sexual intercourse with the defendant, all the while experiencing at least 5 orgasms and announcing each of them while your husband watched and listened? Wow...I don't know, but if you were my wife I'm not sure I would actually believe you were being taken against your will!"

"Objection your honor!"

"Objection sustained, jury please disregard that last statement by Mr. Lambert. Please strike the comment from the legal record. Counselor anymore outbursts like that and you will be held in contempt!"

"Understood, no more questions your honor." Mark Lambert replied as he made his way back to the defendant's table. He and Mylo both knew the damage had been done as Carla Youngblood sobbed uncontrollably and made her way back to where her husband was sitting.

Several of the jurors who had originally thought of her as a believable victim were now questioning whether she wasn't more of slutty bimbo.

The judge excused the proceedings for the day and as the deputy led Mylo past the bench where the Youngblood's sat consoling each other, they both looked up in time to make eye-contact with him. He smiled wickedly and then looked down at the little boy in Tom Youngblood's arms, "Handsome kid...I bet he grows up with a huge cock!"

Tom Youngblood only refrained from taking a swing at the cocky son-of-a-bitch because he held the toddler in his arms.

Ironically, nearly three years previously when Carla missed her period following the assault, she tested positive for pregnancy. The Youngblood's prayed for guidance as they had themselves engaged in procreation the previous two nights before her rape. Ultimately their religious beliefs, especially their faith that their marital bond was stronger than the power of her rapist's incomprehensible semen production, led them to follow through with the pregnancy. They agreed that they would never strive to determine the paternity of their son and would love him as their own forever.

*****

They did their very best over the years to convince themselves that Tom was the boy's biological father, but when the handsome boy turned 14, it was very clear when his penis grew to be 11" long that his father was not the person who had raised him, but rather he was the bastard sitting in a prison cell 50 miles away who had fucked the living shit out of his mom one night in his parent's bed.

*****

The following day, the jury heard similar testimony from the 2^nd victim. The prosecution painted a picture of a horrific scene where the defendant brutally raped the young mother against her will while her unfortunate husband was forced to watch the unfathomable assault while helplessly bound. The defense countered with a similar line of questioning before the victim admitted that much like the first victim, she orgasmed repeatedly and announced it verbally each time. The jury walked out of the courtroom feeling much the same way about the victim as they had following Carla Youngblood's testimony.

The prosecution team got together that night and circled the wagons. They had seen and heard the same testimony from their star witnesses that the jury had over the past two days and were growing concerned that the focus of the trial was moving from the brutal execution of the bondage and unwanted physical contact, to the later reaction when the endowed defendant apparently pleasured each victim to the point of climax. But day three of the trial would bring a different element to the proceedings; one the prosecution believed would sway the tide back in their favor....they were badly mistaken.

On day three of victim testimony, the prosecution presented the first videotaped assault as evidence. The jury and everyone in the courtroom watched in complete shock as the defendant roughly bound and tore the clothing from the clearly frightened young redhead Kimmy Kennedy while her boyfriend sat limply following his tasering, secured to a chair not far from the bed. He was gagged in the same fashion that had been described in the previous assaults. Meanwhile, Kimmy's huge tits bounded amazingly when Myles cut her bra away with his hunting knife. She begged and pleaded with him not to hurt her.

The crowd in the room gasped when they saw Myles' huge cock for the first time. And when he roughly shoved it into the hot little redhead and she screamed in pain and fear, the prosecution sat back in their chairs with satisfied looks on their faces...this was clearly all the evidence the jury would need to be convinced of the undeniable guilt of the defendant. They played the next several minutes of the assault as the young woman begged repeatedly for him to stop. Eventually the video stopped and the prosecution rested their arguments.

The judge recessed the courtroom for lunch and nearly everyone adjourned with the strong sense that what they had just watched, combined with what was sure to come when the murder evidence was introduced, that Mylo Dickenson was headed for the gas chamber.

However, two people in the courtroom knew there was countering evidence that would likely make people feel differently.

It turns out the prosecution had not done a good job of dotting their I's and crossing their T's. They had wrongfully assumed that the end of the portion of the video they had introduced exposing the third rape represented the end of the tape. However, Mylo Dickenson and his lawyer knew otherwise. Mylo had told Lambert that he had inadvertently pushed a timer button that shut the video equipment off after 20 minutes. On the night of the assault, when he rose from the bed to take a piss after his first fucking of Miss Kennedy, he discovered the issue. Not wanting to take a chance that he would accidently record over the previous segment, he fast-forwarded to a spot further into the tape and started it again...two additional hours of video portrayed a much different scene than the one previously watched by the jury.