I realized how vulnerable I was, then. I hadn’t told anyone on the force where I was going. I hadn’t brought along a partner. I had no one waiting for me at my home. My resistance was beginning to fade, and when the big brute started groping me through the front of my pants, I humped up into his palm, unable to stop myself. I did it on purpose, I realized. I’d wanted this to happen. I’d missed my opportunity twice, but not this time, not now. Now, I was going to get what I wanted–what I needed so desperately. Answers, yes, but more than that, I needed…these men. To taste them, and fuck them, and be fucked my them, drink their cum and their piss…anything. Anything they wanted, I would do it.
“Someone’s had a busy day–nice and crusty. How’d you know what I like, pig?”
Words failed me, and I doubt he expected an answer. He leaned in and kissed me instead, and everything just…faded away. I could smell the cum in his beard, taste it on his breath. He forced his hand down the front of my pants, got it wet with my own cum, and fed it to me, right there in the booth. I was so…eager, and I didn’t even know how to describe what I feeling in the moment. “How–How are you doing this?” I muttered.
“I wondered the same thing, for a long time. How he did it. In the moment, I didn’t even realize it was happening. If you want to know more though–you’re going to have to do something for me in exchange–after all, I don’t know if I can trust you with sensitive information like this sort of thing. Master would get pretty upset, knowing I spilled the beans to the detective who’s supposed to be finding him. Then again, that’s why he sent me to meet you. He’s…so close now. Closer than he’s ever been–I had no idea that he…I mean…” he was shaking, thinking about something. He’d been with the rapist recently, more recently than his first encounter with him, that he’d talked about, and he knew about Jules. If I could get him to talk, without losing my own head in the process, this was the opportunity I had to blow this whole thing wide open and put a stop to it before he got to anyone else, before anything got even more out of control than it already was.
At least, that’s what I told myself. Part of me believed it, but part of me…wanted something else entirely, the same part of me that had taken me to the two crime scenes. The part of me that was less interested in solving the case, and that I think was more interested in experiencing it. “I…I don’t know what kind of hold he has on you–on all of you, but you don’t have to do what he says. We can help you. Tell me where he is, and we can put a stop to it.”
He laughed then, louder than before, “Cop–you still don’t get it, do you? I’m not helping him because he’s telling me to, because he’s controlling me. I’m here, fucking with you, because I want to–because I know what he can do, and what he wants to do, and I can’t fucking wait to see it–and until you understand, I’m going to keep you…occupied.”
“But he…he raped you.”
“He raped someone that night, but it wasn’t me. You’ll understand, when he’s ready for you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You want to know more? I’ll tell you things. Things you think you want to hear. But not here–you want to know more? Let’s go back to your place, get a little more intimate…”
He tried to kiss me again, but this time, I managed to push him away, and he let me slide out of the booth this time and stand up, panting, sweating, fresh cum in my sticky underwear. “No–come with me to the station. If you have something to say, say it there. Help me understand this, I want to understand what…what this is…”
“I know you do, pig, but I can’t do that. This isn’t about a crime. This isn’t about laws, or justice. Not anymore, not for you, is it? Why were you back at the house today? At that warehouse? You weren’t investigating shit–you were there because you wanted to be there. This is about you now–and I’m happy to tell you more, but only you. That, or you can find out with everyone else, soon–but I don’t think you’ll last that long, because part of you already knows, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know anything, I don’t understand how any of this is possible.”
“There’s…a voice you keep hearing, isn’t there? A voice, but it isn’t words. It’s feelings. If you ignore it, it gets louder, and if you listen to it, it gets bigger. It’s always been there, hasn’t it? Even before all of this?”
“No, there’s nothing.”
The biker looked at me then, and then shrugged, “Well, there’s something there now, isn’t there? You obviously know what the hell I’m talking about, or you wouldn’t be shaking like that.”
I turned and left then. I needed air, but outside, it didn’t help. Had I heard the voice before? Had I felt this before? Maybe. I lived alone, and had for years at this point, as everyone else from the academy I’d known had settled down, gotten married, and was having kids. I’d gone on dates, sure, and I’d always considered myself straight, but was that really true? Did I like having sex with women? I honestly didn’t enjoy their company, and usually prefered getting a drink with another guy or three from the department, but nothing had ever gone further than that. I jacked off, sure, but…but was there more? Should there be more? Was there something there I’d been forgetting all of this time? There were…times. Times I’d slipped on my leather gloves, jacked off with them on, jacked off in uniform. I’d wanted to be a cop for so long–that was the voice I’d felt, I realized. Was it quiet now, just because I’d made it happen?
Bracken's Corner 