There are many mature themes in this novel so read at your own discretion.
Chapter 1: Kraken Industries
Melissa’s fingers hovered for a moment above the keyboard before she pressed Send. The screen dimmed, and with it came the silence of an empty floor. A glance at the brass-rimmed clock on her desk told her what she already suspected: half past six. Everyone else had gone. The building seemed to sigh with abandonment, its fluorescent hum the only company she had left.
She gathered her things slowly, smoothing invisible creases from her skirt, aligning pens on the desk, anything to delay the inevitable. The double doors across the hall loomed larger in the quiet, the nameplate glinting even in the fading light: Vern Kraken, CEO. That door always carried weight, but never more so than when she was the last one here.
Her knuckles rapped against the polished wood. The reply came—sharp, commanding, almost impatient: “Come in.”
Melissa obeyed.
The office swallowed her the way it always did. Rich wood paneling, heavy leather, shelves lined with classics that looked more like trophies than companions. It was a room designed to make one feel small, and it succeeded. In its center, like a throne set against the far corner, rested Vern’s desk—ornate, dark, an edifice of power carved into mahogany.
Vern was behind it, his presence filling the room more than the furniture ever could. The deep creases etched into his face caught the shadows, making him look hewn from stone rather than aged by time. Melissa had seen those frown lines before—ever since the funeral, they seemed to carve deeper, dragging his moods into unpredictable tides. Tonight, the current had shifted toward anger.
“Come here,” he said, voice low, stripped of softness.
She moved toward him, each step a negotiation between fear and duty. Melissa crossed the stretch of carpet that felt longer than it was. Each step echoed in her awareness, the soft thud of her heels against the fibers. Vern’s eyes followed her, heavy and assessing. They had always carried authority, but tonight there was a darkness behind them—a hunger mixed with grief that he no longer bothered to hide.
Vern had lost his wife only a few months prior, and the weight of her absence had carved deep furrows in his spirit. Once known as a man of steady composure—firm but fair, stern yet softened by an easy temper—he now drifted through his days in a storm of shifting emotions. Grief pulled him often into a brooding melancholy, but just as often it flung him into sudden bursts of rage. And today, anger had claimed him fully, smoldering in his eyes and sharpening every word and gesture.
When she reached the edge of his desk, she waited. A pause. A silence that pressed on her chest as tangibly as any hand.
“I’ve had a bad day,” Vern said at last, his voice roughened, weary yet edged with command. “And I need… relief.”
The words landed between them with the weight of ritual. Melissa’s breath hitched, though her face remained composed. She knew this request well—it had been carved into the rhythm of their late evenings together. And still, every time, her body reacted first: a quickening pulse, the sharp prickle of vulnerability racing across her skin.
She lowered her eyes, a small act of surrender, and felt the tension in the room deepen. Vern leaned back in his chair, a gesture that was both invitation and decree.
The office was suffused with the faint scent of him—cologne mellowed by age, tobacco woven into the fibers of his suit, and beneath it something rawer, heavier. Melissa felt it wrap around her like the wood-paneled walls: enclosing, commanding, impossible to escape.
Her knees bent, the carpet brushing against her skin as she moved down. The shift in perspective made him tower even more, a figure of power silhouetted against the dim light from the window. Her hands trembled, though not entirely from fear. Habit steadied her, but the air between them still pulsed with that blend of authority and need that always left her breathless.
Vern’s frown eased, not into warmth but into something sharper—satisfaction at her obedience, at her presence here, ready, as always, to bridge the hollow his grief had left behind.When she reached between Vern's feet, she looked up at him with eyes that seemed to hold a world of understanding.
A subtle nod from Vern signaled his readiness, and Melissa swiftly undid his trousers, unzipping the fly with practiced grace. Her hand slipped into the warmth, finding his cock – a firm pillar against her palm – and she wrapped her fingers around its length and girth, tracing the familiar landscape of ridges and veins like lines etched on an aged map.
As she leaned closer, her lips brushed lightly against the tip, sending shivers skittering down Vern’s spine. His cock jerked in response, a hungry muscle pulsing with anticipation. Melissa extended her tongue, drawing a languid trail along the underside of his length, leaving a glistening path slick with saliva that seemed to beckon further exploration.
Three more times she repeated the dance – slow, sensual, hypnotic. Her mouth was warm and welcoming, like a secret haven, and Vern’s cock responded eagerly, swelling and hardening with each pass of her tongue. The droplets she left behind shimmered in the dim light, clinging to his shaft like captured starlight.
Reaching the tip, she circled it once before flicking it playfully with her tongue. Then, starting at the base, she traced another line of moisture upwards, repeating the pattern until his cock throbbed fully aroused, its full eight inches trembling beneath her touch, a testament to his enduring vitality even in the twilight of his seventy years.
Parting her lips, Melissa took him deeper into her mouth, drawing him down with a constant, gentle suction that elicited a guttural grunt from Vern’s throat. Months of this intimate ritual had honed her technique to perfection, each touch and movement tailored precisely to his deepest desires. He responded with a raw, primal sound that seemed to tear free from the depths of his being, unguarded and vulnerable, as if she had pierced through layers he thought impenetrable.
Breathing in deeply, Melissa leaned forward slowly, coaxing Vern’s cock deeper into her mouth. Maintaining that light suction, she pushed him past the point where his head grazed against the roof of her throat. With a gentle tug, she drew back until only the tip remained, then started the dance anew – in and out, teasing him with anticipation.
Vern was a man who rarely suffered fools, never one to linger on pleasantries when action beckoned. His relentless drive had propelled him from an orphaned childhood to become a titan of industry, his empire sprawling across countless sectors, his influence shaping the very fabric of society. He ruled the boardroom with the same steely intensity he brought to every aspect of his life - a force of nature, unyielding and unstoppable.
He enjoyed her teasing, yes, but his patience wore thin quickly when it came to such matters. As the rhythm quickened, Vern caught her head in both hands, pushing her forward with an abruptness that sent a gasp escaping her lips.
He drove his cock past her tonsils, burying it deep within her throat, momentarily cutting off her air supply. Instinctively, she knew she had only seconds to appease him before her air supply would run out.
Flicking her tongue furiously, she worked over the underside of his length. With his cock blocking her throat, suction was no longer an option – her tongue became a tireless instrument of devotion, coaxing and caressing until his pleasure started to peak beneath her ministrations. Slowly, he released his hold, allowing her to draw back, gasping for air as she straightened. But the reprieve was brief. He pulled her forward again with unwavering force, his cock disappearing completely into her mouth, vanishing like a diver plunging into an unseen abyss.
He began thrusting, steadily at first, then escalating in speed until his cock filled her entire mouth and throat, her nose brushing against the damp warmth of his pubic bone. The rhythmic slap of his balls against her chin filled the air, punctuated by Vern's guttural groans that rose like primal cries from deep within him. He was close. She could feel it in the frantic tremor of his cock, the way he held on to her head with white-knuckled intensity.
Then, abruptly, he stilled. His grip tightened around her head, and he pulled her up sharply. His cock slipped out of her mouth with a soft plop. Melissa steadied herself, her legs wobbling slightly from the sudden release, rising to her full height at five feet, five inches. Her dark blonde hair, tousled and unruly, cascaded over her ivory skin like a waterfall. Strands clung to her bright blue eyes that still shimmered with intensity beneath the disarray. Her crimson lips, full and vibrant against her pale complexion, were slightly parted in a breathless gasp. Time had begun to etch its subtle marks upon her face, but she bore them gracefully, allowing strangers to guess her age at a decade younger than her nearly forty years.
He reached out, his hand tracing up beneath her pencil skirt till it settled on the bare curve of her ass, his fingers tracing lazy circles over the taut flesh. She was forbidden from wearing underwear since she started serving him some eighteen months ago – a constant reminder of his ownership, a testament to his absolute dominion.
He savored the soft yielding of her skin, knowing he could have access whenever his desires took hold. Fondling her bare ass in crowded elevators had become a ritual, sometimes he would even slip a finger inside her warm pussy - a silent claim marked by her startled glances and stifled breaths as if someone might notice their illicit exchange.
Now, he began to caress her more openly. His fingers sank deeper into the smooth cushion of her buttocks, pulling her closer until her thighs were spread apart, forcing her body against his chest. Her pussy hovered directly over his cock, an exposed treasure at his command. Her eyes were locked on his, unwavering and attentive, reading him with a practiced ease that had come from countless encounters like this. He glanced down, once, to the swell of her pussy waiting below, and she understood.
Melissa grasped his swollen length, drawing it towards the entrance of her own body, lowering herself slowly. His cock pressed against the warm folds of her wetness, and she rubbed him back and forth, trying to coax a trickle of lubrication from her tight core.
But Vern was impatient. He caught her hips in both hands, shoving her down with brutal force, his cock slamming into her waiting heat with a searing friction that set her muscles aching. The single thrust was so powerful it forced the full eight inches inside, stretching her to her limits. She winced, the pain sharp and sudden, while he leaned back, watching her contort around him with an indulgent smile playing on his lips. He reveled in this display of power - a dominance that extended beyond the boardroom and into this intimate sanctuary where she knelt at his feet. He let her sit there, stretched tight around his cock, feeling the pleasurable throbbing of his erection travel through her warm, yielding form.
Finally, as lubrication built within her, she pushed up on her toes, rising to meet him halfway before dropping back down again, finding a rhythm that eased the initial pain and brought her closer to surrender. The slow rise and fall continued, her hips swaying rhythmically against his thighs. The slapping sounds were a constant accompaniment – the drumbeat of her passion mingled with the rasp of his breathing as he watched her work.
A low groan escaped Vern's lips, then another, deeper this time, as his balls started to tighten in anticipation. He grabbed her hips again, anchoring her firmly, and plunged her down hard, holding her there while his cock pulsed violently within her, releasing a torrent of thick semen that coated her insides. Vern fell back, overcome, as a surge of rapture coursed through him in rolling waves.
Silence descended, broken only by Vern's ragged breaths and the gentle drip of his cum pooling inside her. For several moments, they stood motionless - two statues carved from desire and surrender. His cum slowly dripped out of her vagina while they waited. When Vern finally came to, Melissa got up from his lap, releasing the rest of his cum, which dribbled on his cock, his hairy balls, and the floor. Vern cocked his head and gave Melissa a knowing look. She understood the unspoken expectation, and with quiet resolve, lowered herself once more to her knees and started to lick the cum from his cock.
Her senses reeled beneath the sharp, musky tang of his cum mixed with her juices and his sweat, the acrid scent filling her nose and the briny taste clinging stubbornly to her tongue.
She hated the taste of cum, yet she licked his cock up and down without hesitation, swallowing all the juices, until every drop was consumed.. When his cock was clean and glistened with her saliva, she moved down to his hairy ball sack.
This was the most atrocious part with his pubic hair tingling her entire face. As she licked and sucked his balls, hair would get in her mouth which she reluctantly swallowed with copious amounts of saliva. She swallowed even the last droplets clinging to his ball sac, a bitter offering at the altar of his need. He had taken her possession, both physically and emotionally - leaving her raw and exposed in this intimate ritual.
She moved further down and licked the small patch of skin separating his ball sack from his rectum. Luckily no cum had gotten on the rectum itself but as she approached closer, the acrid stench slammed into her senses, thick and choking, seeping into her mind like smoke in a sealed room. She held her breath, and finished up as quickly as she could.
Finally, when his body was crystal clean she bent down and put her head to the floor. On the floor, she lowered her face, letting her tongue glide over the warm, scattered cum droppings, shuddering at the sharp, salty taste. She lapped every single droplet visible and when everything was clean, she stood up in front of him.
Her hands trembled as she smoothed her skirt, though it did little to steady the fluttering in her chest. Stray strands of blonde hair framed her face like a fragile veil, and the warmth in her cheeks mirrored the rapid beat of her pulse. She stood before him, waiting. Always waiting — for acknowledgement or for dismissal.
“I’ve called my two sons back from abroad,” Vern said, his tone sharp and deliberate. “One of them will inherit Kraken Industries once I’ve measured their skill and determined who has the vision to elevate this company to new heights. Prepare my West Side office for Victor and the East End office for Xavier. Each will need a secretary to support their work. Screen candidates thoroughly and narrow it down to the top three for each. My sons will make the final ***********ion.”
Melissa’s voice was steady, but she felt the weight of his gaze. “When are your sons expected to arrive?”
“The day after tomorrow,” Vern replied, his eyes cold and unwavering. “Ensure the secretary recruitment is finalized by then. That will be all. You may go.”
Melissa bowed slightly, a gesture of respect and acknowledgement, before turning on her heel. She collected her belongings with careful, deliberate movements and walked toward the elevators, each step echoing softly in the polished corridor. Behind her, Vern’s office remained a silent command center, the quiet hum of authority pressing on her back as she left.
Chapter 2: Meridian Prime
Melissa stood at the head of the conference table, her posture rigid, eyes sharp as they swept over the two senior officials seated before her. Meridian Prime was unlike any other agency—a ghost operating in the blind spots of global intelligence. Where conventional surveillance failed, they moved silently, unseen even by most of the world’s top agencies. Every scrap of information they gathered was filtered through anonymous channels to the NSA, FBI, and CIA, leaving Meridian Prime’s existence known only to a *********** few with the highest clearances—like the two officials now scrutinizing her every word.
“Vern is bringing his two sons back from abroad,” Melissa began, her voice controlled yet charged with urgency. “One of them will inherit Kraken Industries. He’s planning something significant, and this is our opening to infiltrate the company even deeper. I’ve been tasked with setting up three secretary candidates for each son. Whoever is chosen will be planted at the heart of his succession strategy—a perfect vantage point for us.”
“Interesting,” said Tracy, her navy business suit impeccable, her expression calculating as she considered Melissa’s words.
“Go on,” she prompted, leaning forward slightly. “What’s your plan?”
Melissa’s gaze hardened. “We insert two of our agents among the candidates. Since I’m assembling the pool, I can place one operative in each batch. That gives us a thirty-three percent chance of infiltration per son, straight into the nerve center of Vern’s operations.”
Michelle nodded, her eyes glinting. “I like it. Your work as Vern’s personal secretary has already provided a wealth of intelligence. We now know the full scope of his illicit operations under the guise of legitimate business. Thanks to you, we dismantled his human trafficking network in India—how he lured girls from small villages with the promise of Bollywood careers, only to hand them to fake producers. Once abroad, they vanished into the trafficking machine he meticulously constructed. Families believed their daughters were pursuing glamour; in reality, they were sold into slavery. The intelligence you captured—simply by listening, observing—allowed the authorities to dismantle his network completely.”
Melissa’s mind flicked briefly to the countless conversations she’d overheard, the hidden codes in Vern’s speech. He believed the Indian authorities had uncovered his empire through standard investigation. He could never imagine the quiet, invisible hand that had destroyed it from the inside. That was Meridian Prime: operatives so embedded, so invisible, their presence left no trace of suspicion.
The agency specialized in precision infiltration. Women with no family or prospects were transformed into covert operatives, trained to charm, deceive, and manipulate, gaining trust over long periods to extract sensitive information. Melissa had been one such recruit.
She had been 24, scraping by in dead-end jobs, when Tracy first spotted her. Even unadorned, her natural presence commanded attention; customers trusted her, smiled at her, tipped generously. Tracy saw potential—a diamond in the rough, capable of being molded into a weapon against the world’s most dangerous.
Two grueling years of training followed: strategy, combat, persuasion, and subtlety, blending intellect and physicality into lethal skill. By the time she accepted her first mission, Melissa had become invisible yet formidable—a ghost moving through the shadows, dismantling criminal empires from the inside. In Meridian Prime, she was more than a secretary; she was a key player in the silent war waged against the world’s unseen darkness.
“At the moment, only Isabella and Hazel are available for this job. Both are fresh out of training, and this will be their first real assignment. I need you to prep them—they need to know what they’re in for. You know how nerve-wracking a first mission can be.”
Melissa felt a rush of memories. Her first assignment had been a nightmare: a corrupt detective who contaminated crime scenes and planted evidence to frame the innocent. Meridian Prime had staged a fake car accident just down the street from his house, perfectly timed for his morning commute. She had been there, standing by her car in a blue denim cord set—halter top and mini skirt, gold bracelets stacked on her wrists, cream heels catching the morning light. When the detective’s car appeared, she turned her back and bent over, inspecting her “flat tire,” every muscle from her butt down to her calves taut. Her short skirt rose up even higher, flashing her black thong. Instantly, the detective flashed his car lights and pulled over. Everything was going according to plan.
William ‘Iron Claw’ Callahan strode over to the scene of the accident and observed. A black Toyota Camry was stuck on the edge of a precipice, both front tires flat - probably from hitting the curb at a fast pace. The direction of the wheels with respect to the rest of the car indicated that the car had swerved to the right, just before hitting the curb and teetering over the steep fall. The car would have to be towed.
William walked over to Melissa and asked, “What happened here Miss?”
His voice was casual but his tone imbued authority. His stature - tall, well built with a lean structure amplified his authoritarian tone. He wore black pants and a light blue shirt that accentuated his muscles and showed his lean torso. He smelled of sandalwood mixed with something strong like gun oil. Melissa had seen pictures of the detective but his presence in person was much more commandeering.
“I was driving when a cat suddenly ran across the road. I slammed the brakes and swerved right narrowly missing the cat. In the process, my car hit the curb, blew out the tires and got stuck here. The cat didn't even have the courtesy to stay and thank me for saving its life. It just ran the other way, leaving me here all alone to fend for myself.”
“I am here now. You aren't alone anymore Miss…”.
“Melissa. Melissa Banks.”
“Ms. Banks. I will see to it that you are all taken care of. Someone as noble as you for saving a life shouldn't have to go through this by yourself. On behalf of the cat, accept my gratitude for this heroic effort.” He put out his hand and Melissa grasped it. As they shook hands, William subtly caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. She smiled in response.
“Let me inspect the tire to see if its fixable or if it has to be replaced.”
Although, William knew from experience that the tire blow out would not be fixable and would have to be replaced at a mechanic shop, she crouched down to inspect the tire. In reality, his goal was to inspect something else entirely. He eyed Melissa from the corner of his eyes, his vantage giving him a good look at her toned legs extending below her short skirt. He could even see up her skirt to the black thong that had caught his eye initially. His dick stirred in his pants.
“This is not repairable. It will have to be towed. I will call it in but expect a two to three hour wait for the tow truck to arrive since its morning commute and there tends to be many severe accidents that take priority.”
“Two to three hours!!” exclaimed Melissa. “What am I supposed to do for that long all alone here?”
“My house is just a few blocks from here. If you want, you can wait there. My Keurig serves a nice strong coffee, which would help you to relax and get over this unfortunate accident.”
“I wouldn't want to impose. And I'm sure you need to go to work, an officer like you probably has much to do to protect and serve the community.”
“Its detective. Detective William Callahan. You are part of the community so serving you is serving the community. It would be an honor for me to be able to serve a hero like you.” He indicated to his car passenger seat and she looked as if she didn't know what to do.
“Ummm. If it will be an honor for you, I have no right to turn you down. You did stop to help me and that is least I can do for you.” She followed him to his car, where he opened the passenger door for her before getting in himself.
In a few short minutes, the cruiser pulled in to his driveway. It was a small, white brick house with black accents. His door was black, thick metal with a small frosted window at eye level as an accent. His door was flanked on both sides by picture windows, large but shielded with thick drapes. There was no visibility into the house from the outside. William unlocked his front door with a key, walked down his corridor to the alarm panel and disarmed his system before beckoning Melissa to join him inside. Once inside, he walked over and closed the door behind her, locking it.
He ushered her down the corridor into the small kitchen. The kitchen opened up to the living room, which gave it an open feel. The kitchen was composed of a range surrounded on both sides by white cabinets. White granite covered the cabinets. A stainless steel fridge stood at the corner. There was an island in the center with matching white cabinets and granite. Two bar chairs stood underneath the overhang of the island. William gestured towards one of the chairs. He went to the cabinet next to the range and pulled out two coffee mugs. His Keurig was right below the cabinet. He filled up the cups one by one with coffee and walked over to Melissa.
“You have a really nice house here.” Melissa commented.
“Thank you. I just bought it a few years ago when I made detective. I got into some money after the promotion so decided to invest it in this quaint sanctuary.”
Melissa knew that the money he was speaking about was the illicit payments he was getting from tarnishing crime scenes for the local crime syndicate.
“All these nice things and no one to enjoy it with you?” Prompted Melissa.
“No one yet. But you never know. Lady luck could be knocking on my door any day now, even today.” Melissa smiled. Lady luck or lady vengeance, thought Melissa.
After she finished her coffee, William offered his hand, the warmth of his skin sending another jolt through her as their fingers met. She allowed him to pull her upright, his touch firm yet gentle on her arm.
He led her to the couch, helping her settle onto the cushions. His hand lingered on her back a moment longer than necessary as he straightened the throw draped across it. The scent of him became intoxicating at this close proximity, filling her senses, and she found herself tilting her head back slightly, welcoming his gaze with an openness that surprised even her.
"Let me take care of you," he said, his voice roughened by something more than just concern. He leaned closer, his breath warm on her cheek. "You look like you could use it."
He lowered himself until their lips met. The kiss was a revelation - unexpected and electric. It started tentatively, his lips soft against hers, before deepening with an urgency that made her head spin.
When he finally drew back, his eyes were dark and stormy, smoldering with an intensity that mirrored the fire building within her.
"You need more than just coffee," he whispered, his fingers tracing a path along the curve of her jawline before finding purchase in the soft hair at the nape of her neck. "You need…”
His breath hitched as he leaned down again, capturing her lips with a kiss that was hungry and possessive, driving his tongue into her mouth, claiming everything she had to offer with an urgency that left her breathless.
He pulled her closer as if she were a lifeline he couldn't let go of. He tasted of salt and something else, something uniquely masculine. It was intoxicating, addictive. He moved his hand lower, cupping her breast through the denim halter top, his thumb tracing circles over the sensitive nipple beneath his touch.
Melissa's breath hitched in her throat as she clung to him, savoring the feel of his strong arms around her, her body molding against his warmth. She felt a tremor run through him when he caught the gasp escaping her lips, and then he was deepening the kiss again, his tongue slipping into her mouth, exploring with an uninhibited passion that left her breathless.
He broke away momentarily, needing to see her face as much as she needed to breathe. His eyes were dark, shimmering with a desire that matched her own, and Melissa knew, in that moment of shared need, that things were about to get even more complicated, even more exhilarating.
He shifted then, easing back until his legs were crossed over hers, anchoring him in place, pulling her closer. He kissed her neck next, roughening the skin there with a light graze of his teeth before trailing lower, his lips following the delicate line of her collarbone, teasingly nibbling at the hollow beneath it.
A low moan escaped Melissa's throat as he explored her, his hand cupping her breast, gently squeezing, coaxing a startled gasp from her. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the strength of his body pressing against hers, and she leaned into him instinctively, wanting more, craving the touch that was sending ripples of pleasure through her already heated skin.
His hands snaked around her back, hot and possessive, sending shivers down her spine as he traced lazy circles from the curve of her hipbone up to the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. A gasp escaped her lips as his touch sparked a delicious ache, drawing her back into a gentle arch that begged for more. His fingers found the delicate knot fastening her top and with deft, teasing precision, he unfastened it. The soft fabric slid down effortlessly, revealing the flawless landscape beneath.
His gaze, hungry and possessive, devoured her from top to bottom, drinking in every detail of her naked form. He drank deeply of the sight of her slim body draped in skin the color of freshly churned cream, so smooth it seemed to glow under the dim light. Her breasts were magnificent globes perched proudly against his chest, taut and unwavering despite their generous size. The rosy areoles at their center, swollen and eager, resembled polished silver dollars. At their center, firm, pink nipples, like perfectly formed pencil erasers, pointed directly at him, demanding to be touched. Not a hint of sag marred the perfection of her curves – each breast meticulously sculpted, further emphasized by the flat plane of muscle that met their base: a landscape of power and delicate beauty in one breathtaking vista.
He started kissing her again, lower this time, tracing fiery kisses along her smooth collarbone down to the swell of her breast. His tongue teased at her nipple, drawing a soft whimper from her lips as his hand moved to cup her other breast, squeezing gently, making her ache with a need that intensified every second he spent exploring her exposed flesh.
"Damn, Melissa," he groaned, sucking on one of her stiff nipples, "Your body tastes incredible.” His tongue circled around her nipples lightly, tracing her areolas while his mouth applied constant suction causing her nipples to harden even further. His mouth worked in tandem with his fingers, which tightened on her breasts, kneading them, sending waves of pleasure radiating through her chest and down into a core already quivering with anticipation.
William sucked on one breast and then another, giving equal attention to both. In no time, Melissa’s breath became haggard as her body rode wave after wave of pleasure, consuming her. When she climbed down from her high, William pulled away from her breasts smiling. Her chest was still heaving heavily, her eyes shut tightly, pleasure etched in her face.
She opened her eyes slowly and whispered, “That was…wonderful.”
“This is just the beginning,” William boldly exclaimed. He unbuttoned his shirt and placed it on the sofa next to them. Melissa was enthralled to see his lean, fit body. It was a golden brown hue, probably from all the work he did outdoors with investigations. There was a small stubble of light brown hair down his sternum which curled into small rings. His arms were muscular, more just lean cuts than actual muscle volume.
He moved his hand down the side of her body, skimming the slim waist, and arriving on her hips. He slid the fabric of her skirt down past her hip, over her knees and down to her feet. Her black, lacy thong stood as the last line of defense against his hungry eyes, which devoured her top to bottom. He placed his hands on her knees and stared into her eyes, which sparkled with excitement. He didn’t need any more encouragement. He traced his fingers slowly up her warm thighs, pausing at the edge of her underwear. Melissa wiggled her butt, trying to push his finger further up.
William smiled a coy look, savoring her wanton need to go further. Eventually, he slipped his finger underneath her lacy garment, finding it wet with arousal. His fingers found her clit instantly, circling it with a tenderness that belied the possessive way he held her captive in his embrace. Melissa arched into him, her moans muffled against his lips as his touch sent waves of pleasure flooding through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him closer as if she might draw him inside herself, melt into his warmth and become one with him entirely.
He looked down at her, eyes hungry and possessive as he took in the sight of her nakedness once again. His gaze lingered on her thong, anticipating what was underneath. As if she could read his mind, Melissa put her thumbs on either side of her underwear, raised her hips in the air and pushed the thong down. At her thighs, William took hold of her underwear and pulled it over her knees and down to the ground, where it sat next to her discarded skirt and her top. William took hold of her knees and pushed them apart, revealing an exotic view. A strong smell of arousal engulfed his senses, intoxicating him. Her pussy was clean shaven with a small patch of hair above in the shape of a landing strip. Her lips were puffy with titillation.
His gaze lingered on her swollen clit before finally dropping to the tight space between her legs where he could see a trail of her juices escaping her pussy. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the curve of her hipbone, drawing a soft groan from her before finally bringing his mouth down to her lips - her pussy lips, kissing deeply and possessively as if she were a possession he'd claimed for himself.
Melissa felt her body go slack in his grip, surrendering completely to the overwhelming rush of desire that flowed through her like molten lava. It was raw, primal, utterly consuming. His hands moved over her with practiced tenderness, kneading the swell of her butt. His tongue lapped up and down her slit, sweet nectar filling his mouth. Melissa’s head fell backwards and moans escaped her lips. The moans encouraged him further, making his tongue work double time, lapping every last drop.
When her area was clean, he began working on her swollen clit, teasing the sensitive flesh before finally lowering his head to capture it in his mouth. Melissa's hips bucked instinctively, meeting him halfway as she arched back into the touch of his lips on her sex. His tongue swirled around her clit, sucking and swirling with a rhythmic persistence that drove her closer and closer to the edge.
"Oh God," she moaned, clawing at his shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin against hers, the strength of his grip tightening as he felt her shudder beneath him. He kept kissing, circling and sucking and teasing until she cried out his name, her body trembling with the force of the orgasm that shattered through her like breaking glass.
He pulled back then, but didn't break eye contact. Her vision blurred as she caught her breath, her whole body slick with sweat and desire. His gaze was intense, dark with a hunger he couldn't quite contain. His lips curved into a smile that held both amusement and something deeper, something possessive.
He unbuckled his pants and pulled the zip down in a swift motion. With ease, he shed his pants and stood in his black boxers, a tent clearly visible. There was a large dark spot at the center, which Melissa realized was his precum that had soaked through. Melissa's eyes were fixated on it. William noticed and gave an inward smile. He put his fingers on his waist band and slowly pushed his boxers down, all the while watching Melissa. As the waist band reached below the tip of his cock, his member jumped out like a jack in the box. Melissa gave a startle, not expecting it to jump out with force like that.
His cock stood erect at six inches with an inch in girth. It was also a shade of golden brown that perfectly flowed with the rest of his body. The base was covered with brown pubic hair, also curling in rings like his chest hair. Melissa could see his ball sac hanging down through the forest of hair.
She cried out as he took her, feeling the delicious stretch of her opening around him. It wasn't painful, not really. It was more like an ache of yearning being satisfied, a need that had been there forever suddenly met with perfect completeness. He moved then, slowly at first, just filling her entirely and savoring the feel of her body wrapped around him. His hand squeezed her breast, drawing another groan from her as he shifted again, taking her deeper this time. The pressure was both thrilling and achingly good, his warmth spreading through her like liquid fire.
He began to move then, slowly at first, a languid rhythm that sent shivers down her spine. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, mesmerized by the way his chest rose and fell with each stroke, how the muscles in his back flexed beneath the taut skin. He moved with an almost primal urgency now, driven by something deep within him that mirrored the fire burning inside her own body.
Her fingers dug into his skin as he drove deeper into her, his hips meeting hers with a force that made her cry out again. He kissed her then, his mouth finding hers once more in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. He tasted of salt and sweat and something else…something uniquely masculine - like leather and woodsmoke and the promise of rain on hot asphalt. It was intoxicating, addictive.
Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her body arched into his rhythm. Her hips moved with his now, instinctively meeting his pace, seeking every inch of contact between them. He groaned against her mouth, his grip tightening around her waist as he pulled her tighter against him. The room seemed to shrink, everything else fading away until there was only the feel of him inside her, the scent of him mingled with the sweat that slicked their skin together, the raw heat of their bodies pressed close.
He moved faster now, his strokes becoming stronger, more urgent as he drove deeper into her, meeting each thrust with a groan of pleasure. She felt herself climbing, rising on an unstoppable wave of need that crashed over her in a crescendo of sensation. He looked down at her then, those sea-green eyes blazing with desire.
"God, Melissa," he breathed against her lips, his voice rough with the effort of holding himself back just as long as she was. "So fucking good."
Her body was ready to break, her vision blurring around the edges as she cried out his name again and again. He answered her cry in kind, pouring all his desire into the last frantic thrusts that drove them both over the edge together, their bodies shuddering with shared ecstasy.
He came hard inside her, a wave of heat that washed over her and left her trembling, drained but exhilarated. He didn't pull out immediately, holding her close as they both recovered from the force of the orgasm that had shaken them to their core.
"Fuck," he breathed against her forehead, his voice hoarse with the effort of it all. "Damn good, wasn't it?"
She could only nod weakly, still trembling from the aftershocks that rippled through her. His hand stroked gently down her back, soothingly drawing circles into the damp skin as they lay there, tangled together in a tangle of limbs and shared breaths.
He finally shifted then, rolling away slightly to look down at her with those searching green eyes. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, gentler than before.
She managed a weak smile, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice still husky from exertion. "Better than okay."
They both lay together on the couch until William got a call, indicating that the tow truck was on its way. They both hurriedly got dressed and William drove her back to her car just in time to see it being lifted to the back of a large truck bed. The detective spoke with the truck driver and went back to Melissa. “You can ride with him to the mechanic shop. Here is my card if you need anything…and I mean anything.” Melissa took the official card and saw a number scribbled by hand on the back. She eyed him, cocking her head. “It's my personal number for when you need anything,” William replied.
Melissa took the car and hopped into the truck. The truck took her to the mechanic shop, where she got her tires fixed and then she drove to the office of Meridian Prime. She debriefed the staff on the success of her mission. They went over the rest of the plan and reminded her of radio silence until she had something substantial. She was going in alone and deep, where she had to stick it out no matter what. She knew the detective had resources to validate her back story so it had to be air tight. He would probably also do reconnaissance on her before bringing her in his life so she couldn't be in touch with Meridian Prime.
For three months, Melissa and William had been locked in a delicious dance of seduction, their encounters becoming a whirlwind of fervent passion that left her breathless. She'd effortlessly passed all his tests, unknowingly fueling his desire while concealing her true objective – to uncover the dark secrets simmering beneath his polished exterior. On their third month anniversary, he took her hand, his eyes alight with love and an unspoken promise as he asked her to move in. It was the precise moment she'd been waiting for, the key that unlocked access to his hidden world.
She feigned surprise, batting at the idea playfully, whispering about its being too soon. But William, driven by a potent cocktail of affection and possessiveness, wouldn't be swayed. He insisted, promising her heaven and earth until finally, Melissa surrendered with a breathless, "Yes," her heart pounding with anticipation and a touch of trepidation. His smile could have lit up the room, revealing a flash of teeth that hinted at both tenderness and something wilder.
The apartment hummed with William's success – sleek surfaces, modern vistas hinting at his prosperity. Melissa moved in like a queen into her gilded cage, a captive ensnared by his charm. William, fueled by an almost insatiable desire to possess her entirely, convinced her to leave her job, claiming he could provide for everything she needed. It was a clever move – it tethered her more securely to him, freed from the distractions of the outside world and leaving ample time for him to unravel her. He'd made himself her only reality.
Soon enough, William’s once tender touch morphed into something harder, less playful. He became domineering, his gaze possessive as he wrapped his control around her like a silken rope. "My girl," he'd murmur, stroking her hair with an almost painful tenderness that underscored the power he held over her. He dictated what she wore – silk slips for evenings at home, dresses that clung to her curves when they ventured out into the city. He tracked her movements through her phone and car GPS, leaving no room for personal space. Their once scorching love affair cooled into something more clinical, a twisted performance of duty rather than pleasure.
The morning ritual began with a jarring alarm – not the one on his nightstand, but the insistent rise of his need. Fifteen minutes before his designated wake-up time, she'd be roused from sleep by her alarm.
Then, the inevitable. She'd slide down the silk sheets until her toes brushed his bare legs. The chill of the sheets against her skin would be replaced by the warmth radiating from him, a tangible presence that filled her senses even before she touched him. He lay there, a slumbering god, waiting for his offering.
She'd lower herself until his limp erection was nestled against her lips, and with a silent prayer for strength, begin to work on him. She’d suckle the length of him, coaxing it back to life as he stirred from his sleep, his breaths growing deeper, more ragged. The tip would swell beneath her tongue, hardening like polished steel, until it was fully erect, thick and demanding in six inches of virile promise. She'd alternate between licking up and down its length, swirling the tip around the sensitive head of him, and working him into a frenzy. Sometimes, he'd stir from his slumber with a groan, reaching back to pull her closer, pushing her down until she was swallowing him whole. It wasn’t just her mouth that satisfied him; he needed the feeling of possession, the power dynamic in those moments. She would feel small and used, her dignity swallowed by the sheer force of it all.
He always demanded a quick finish before rising. There were few exceptions where his pleasure lasted longer than fifteen minutes before he'd come undone, emptying himself into her throat with a grunt that reverberated through her chest. Initially, she hadn’t minded the taste but this constant repetition, this ritualistic offering of herself as a vessel for his release, left a cloying bitterness in her mouth, soul and psyche.
Evenings followed a predictable pattern. Dinner would be served at his command. He'd dine with an air of quiet authority, scrutinizing her every movement from beneath the thick lashes that framed his eyes. Once the last bite was consumed, Melissa knew what was expected next. She’d slip off her robe, revealing the lingerie he insisted she wear – scarlet silk and lace that clung to her curves like a second skin. It was designed not just for him, but to be seen by him. She would crawl to him on all fours like a pet. Some days, a cock stood awaiting her when she reached him. Other days, she was tasked with fishing out the cock and servicing it till erection.
After his dick was sufficiently taken care of, he would lift her up by the strands of her silky hair. His gaze would rake over her body, possessive and hungry. It was a feast for his eyes before he’d even touched her. In predictable fashion, he would reach out, a languid grace belying the raw hunger in his touch as his fingers brushed the swell of her breast beneath the silk. He'd take his time then, unbuckling her bra, letting it fall to the floor like an offering. Her thong would go next. His hands would explore the curves of her body with possessive groping, kneading and shaping flesh that belonged to him. His strong hands mercilessly mauled her ass cheeks, leaving it red and hot. Melissa winced at his manhandling but knew better than to show any outward displeasure.
His gaze would follow the rise and fall of her chest as she struggled for composure against the tidal wave of sensations washing over her. Her breasts were his playthings first, captured between his palms, savored beneath his lips. His tongue would trace their curves, hard and insistent, claiming them as his own. Then they would lap at her nipples, hardening them to stiff stubs. He enjoyed feeling them harden in his mouth. With them hard, he could easily bite them when he wanted. His bites were usually light, meant more of a play than pain but sometimes he would become overzealous and bite her hard causing her to shriek in pain. Her shrieks caused him a different pleasure, a deep sated hunger of primal dominance. When he grew tired of foreplay, he'd turn her around, bending her over the dining table – his domain, now shared by her body.
He wouldn’t waste time on gentle preliminaries; William preferred to take her whole. He'd thrust himself inside her with a force that made her cry out in distress, ignoring the way she tensed beneath him as he slammed into her again and again, relentless, demanding.
The dining table vibrated beneath them, the sound of his hips meeting hers punctuated by the sharp slaps of his groin against her backside and the rhythmic thump of her breasts against the cool wood of the tabletop. He was a beast in this dance, driven by primal urges, not romantic tenderness. His grunts were guttural, his body taut with tension as he slammed into her with the ferocity of a cornered animal, driving himself deep within her until finally, with an explosive cry, he emptied himself inside her.
For him, it was a release; for her, it was just another moment in this brutal performance she was forced to enact. He’d remain buried inside her while his body shuddered, the last tremors echoing through their entwined bodies. Finally, he'd pull back slightly, watching her with an expression of mild satisfaction as though she were a particularly obedient pet.
When he finally uncoupled himself, it was always on his terms – not hers. He’d let her slide to the floor, her legs trembling with exhaustion and a strange mix of arousal and resentment.
Melissa would rise to her feet, picking up stray silken threads from the table while she waited for him to pull himself together in his chair. His eyes would be closed as he caught his breath, savoring the lingering warmth of his exertion before he’d finally open them, surveying the aftermath with a languid sigh. "Good girl," he'd murmur, the word devoid of affection. “Now, clean up.”
Melissa would obey, cleaning the table and wiping down the room, leaving behind the faint scent of him – musk and expensive cologne clinging to her skin like another invisible chain binding her to his side.
She’d retreat to their bedroom, a small space cluttered with designer clothes and barely touched books on philosophy and finance - a reflection of his life more than hers. She’d slip into the silk sheets that smelled faintly of him, his lingering scent doing little to mask the metallic tang of her own disappointment and the acrid bite of frustration.
The one room he never allowed her inside was his office. He kept it locked tight, the only key clasped in his hand like a talisman guarding a secret heart. Melissa would often catch glimpses of it through the hallway door - the warm glow from within spilling onto the dark wood floor, hinting at files and documents she knew held the answers to the questions that gnawed at her: What was he hiding? Why was he so possessive?
She would try every tactic to get inside – offering coffee while he worked, asking him a mundane household question as if needing his guidance on something. But each time, she'd be met with the same steely smile and gentle shake of his head, "Not now, darling. You know I need my space."
From what she was able to ascertain, the room was ten feet square sparsely furnished with a computer table on the far side. A few locked metal cabinets stood on one side of the table, making it the most obvious place to store secret information. No other space seemed like it would store files she craved.
Life like this continued for a month until that one fateful day when everything ended. Melissa remembered the details of that day as if was yesterday. Everything was burned into her memory. It was a monday morning after a late Sunday night. William and Melissa had gone to a BBQ dinner for one of William’s officer friends that night and had come home close to midnight. Even at that late hour, William wanted his bed time sex which Melissa obligingly satisfied.
The next morning, Melissa overslept her alarm. Mondays are briefing days at the precinct with everyone gathered first thing in the morning to go over the pending cases and the updates from the weekend. William awoke startled when bright rays of sun hit his face. He groggily looked at the clock on his night stand and was shocked. It was 9am. The office briefing started an hour earlier and he was not present. The whole office would notice his absence and his tardiness would be the talk of the day. William was furious. He looked over to the naked form of Melissa sprawled across the bed on her stomach, sleeping peacefully and got even more enraged. She needed to be taught a lesson. A lesson she would never forget.
William's hand sought the familiar jar of lotion beside their bed, its cool ceramic a contrast against his suddenly hot skin. He worked it over his throbbing cock until it gleamed like polished ivory in the morning sun, slick with the promise of punishment. Then he moved, silent as a predator stalking across the bed. The sheet parted to reveal her. Her legs were splayed, vulnerable, offering a smooth passage for his vengeance. Melissa was oblivious, dreaming perhaps of gentler landscapes, untouched and fragrant.
Anal. It was the word that curdled in William's gut with delicious anticipation. She hated it, had always recoiled from its implication – tight, raw, violated. It was a hard no for Melissa, something she had never done before nor would ever do. William was impartial towards it, reading about the feeling of tightness that he would experience which seemed exciting. The flip side was the lack of natural lubrication which could make it painful if not thoroughly oiled. Therefore, he had never pushed for it. Now, however, he wanted to cause her pain for the humiliation she would cause him at work.
William hovered over Melissa's sprawled body lining up his erect member over her backdoor entrance. He took a sharp breath, knowing this would hurt him. The satisfaction being that it would hurt Melissa a whole lot more. He lowered his legs on either side of her legs and plunged hard into her butt. At the same moment, he let his arms buckle so that he fell squarely on top of her back.
Melissa felt a sudden jolt of hot pain searing through her butt as if a hot poker was stabbed in there. The next moment a heavy weight fell on her back knocking the wind out of her. Her body was assassinated with pain from all sides, the strongest coming from the pain in her butt.
He started thrusting hard and deep. Each movement was a brutal violation – scraping, tearing, stretching until Melissa cried out again and again. Her skin screamed, ripped raw from the inside, every muscle contracting against his relentless assault. William held her down like she was nothing more than a sack of grain, filling with seed. Melissa's fight weakened the longer William's assault continued until there was no resistance but a whimper of pain and anguish. Her butt was on fire, the skin inside raw and tender.
He felt it too, the friction and the resistance, but what he felt was power. Power that flowed through him like blood, fueled by the primal sound of her suffering. It made his cock throb, hardening further, stretching taut against the rough heat of her flesh.
For what seemed like an eternity, he rode out the storm of her cries. The air thickened with their mingled scents – sweat, lust, fear – and the smell of blood that pricked at his nostrils. But as Melissa's pain finally began to ebb into a dull ache, William felt the familiar pressure building within him. His thrusts quickened, frantic now, fueled by the spectacle of her misery.
His release came in a sudden explosion, a hot torrent washing over her raw insides. He was drowning in it – a tide of his own making – wave after wave washed over him in pleasure he had never felt before. Soon after, he fell against her, heavy and spent, anchoring her in place with his weight. Melissa was having a tough time breathing and felt as if she was just going to be smothered.
When William finally shifted away, the sheets were stained crimson. She saw the dark specks clinging to his slick skin as he wiped himself clean, leaving behind a smear of blood on the white cotton. Her own blood, her body’s protest against his brutal claim. He left it knowing she would see it and relive the assault she just experienced.
He rose and moved towards their bathroom door, pausing before exiting. "You'll get used to it," he said over his shoulder, his voice flat and emotionless. Then he was gone, leaving Melissa alone with the echo of his words and the raw ache that bloomed in her gut. Her body a battlefield, bruised and battered, she stared at the ceiling, tears welling up in her eyes, each one burning like salt on a wound.
Melissa still lay in bed, her body bruised and in pain. The psychological pain paralyzing her. The degrading and humiliating act of being just a sack of meat for his pleasure was overwhelming. She cried for hours, her body in the same position as William had left it after defiling her. When her tears dried up and the pain in her butt subsided to a dull throbbing she got up. She showered, the hot water easing away her pain and self pity. By the time she finished, a new sensation was front and center in her mind. A sense of vengeance.
Melissa, driven by a sense of urgency, marched towards the garage with purpose. There, amidst the organized chaos of tools, she spotted William's toolbox, its metal surface gleaming under the fluorescent light. With practiced ease, she extracted a hefty screwdriver and a sturdy hammer, their cold steel offering a promise of forceful entry. Her destination: William's office, its door seemingly innocuous but harboring secrets.
Residential doors relied on a simple mechanism – a hole drilled into the wood framing that housed the lock bolt. This fragile point was key to the door's security. If the wood surrounding this crucial hole yielded to damage, the entire lock system weakened, becoming vulnerable to intrusion. Melissa, however, wasn't one for delicate approaches.
Using the screwdriver and hammer as a makeshift chisel, she attacked the doorway aggressively. Each blow resonated with an authoritative thud as splinters of wood flew outwards, leaving deep, jagged punctures across the door frame. The air filled with the sharp scent of sawdust and a hint of decay from the exposed wood fibers. With unrelenting vigor, Melissa continued her assault. Each strike was a combination of brute force and strategic placement, aiming for the vulnerable area surrounding the lock bolt.
Simultaneously, she grasped the doorknob, twisting and pulling it with all her might, adding pressure from within as if pushing against the door's resistance from the inside. Back and forth went the rhythmic cycle – hammering the weakened wood while manipulating the handle. The struggle was a dance of demolition, fueled by determination. Within minutes, the onslaught yielded its reward. A satisfying crack echoed through the room as the lock gave way, followed by the soft groan of yielding wood. Melissa pushed the door inward, revealing William's cluttered office and the secrets it held.
The metal cabinets proved more resistant to her assault, but Melissa persevered with relentless attacks from both hammer and screwdriver. Finally, she breached their defenses, revealing a trove of information better than even her wildest hopes.
William had been meticulously documenting his work, each entry accompanied by before-and-after photos showcasing the manipulated crime scene evidence he had handled. His notes detailed every instance where he'd removed or altered traces connecting gang members to various crimes. Melissa snapped photos of these crucial documents and emailed them to the crime boss, a man who expertly masked his true identity behind the guise of respectability.
The email, delivered with surgical precision, served as a stark warning. It declared William's cooperation with the authorities and presented him as a valuable witness who had submitted these very pictures and notes as evidence. He was scheduled to formally give a statement later that evening, cementing his betrayal.
As dusk settled, casting long shadows across the cityscape, William never made it home. The news cycle flickered on every screen, reporting on the brutal murder of Detective Williams on his way home from work. A routine traffic accident had escalated into a horrific display of violence. A car had rear-ended him, prompting William to step out and inspect the damage to his trunk. But as he reached towards the bumper, the same vehicle rammed him again, crushing his legs beneath its heavy mass.
Grasping desperately at the trunk, trying to maintain some semblance of balance amidst the sudden chaos, Detective Williams held on with fingers strained to their limit. The car backed up and struck him yet again, this time obliterating his upper body. The medical examiner's report confirmed the swiftness of his demise, yet emphasized that those final minutes must have been excruciatingly painful – a symphony of bone and muscle under unimaginable pressure.
The investigation turned up no leads except fragments of car parts strewn across the street, each piece whispering a tale of violence but offering no concrete answers about the assailant. Justice ultimately sought out William’s killer in the form of a convict he had personally sent to prison – a man consumed by vengeance and driven by an insatiable need for retribution. The full weight of William's concealed evidence came to light during this thorough investigation.
Gang members, implicated by the irrefutable photographs and meticulous notes, were finally brought down, their reign of power shattered. And perhaps most importantly, those wrongly convicted by William’s manipulations received retrials, offering them a chance at redemption and a new beginning based on truth instead of deceit.
Melissa smiled as she remembered how her first case came to a dramatic closure. “Melissa….Melissa….Melissa…”, Tracy called out. Melissa instantly came back to reality where Michelle and Tracy were looking at her in a concerned manner. “Is everything okay,” they inquired. Melissa nodded and said she would prep the two new recruits on being successful on their missions.