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Chapter Six: Coming Together

Detective Lana sipped her coffee, idly scribbling on a notepad. The physical files were locked up safely back at the office, but in her mind, she could see everything clearly. The photographs of the crash site. The horrible, mangled corpse of a young raccoon. The twisted wreckage of the Mercedes. But most importantly, that coroner’s report, the document no one else in the department had bothered to read. Severe blunt force trauma to the face, neck and chest. Positive for cocaine and heroine. Time of death approximately two AM, September 22, 1986. Nothing unusual for LA county.

But something just didn’t sit right with Lana. Plenty of young old girls got their hands on dangerous drugs and died driving home. But they usually had needles in their car. Mirrors and razors. The paraphernalia needed to turn raw chemicals into party time. “Candy,” real name Cynthia LeRae, born 1966 in Belcher, Louisiana, had none of these things in her car. She didn’t even have the gum wrappers, lost lipsticks and other general garbage that any young woman should have hiding under the seats. Everything was neat, clean and easy. Small wonder, then, that the department had been so happy to write it off as a tragic accident, inform the family thereof, and then return to the crack cocaine that had every politician clutching pearls.

Lana couldn’t let it go, though. Something told her that all of this was wrong, that Cynthia had a story that only Lana could hear. It had been hard getting the warrant to search her room, and ultimately fruitless — the maid had cleaned that room, though whether they did so to destroy evidence was impossible to tell. Still, Lana had confiscated Cynthia’s diary, along with some personal letters and other possessions, hoping that these bits of evidence would reveal something.

The chief wasn’t having any of it, though. A mere three days after the accident and already he was ordering her to close the case and get cracking on the Hammersham murders. He had a point — in her district alone, the LAPD had a wall of ongoing murder investigations so long it had been expanded into the next room, a giant monument of cork board and thumbtacks to testify to the violence epidemic in the city. Gang killings were common, and even the wealthy Hollywood elite weren’t immune to violent break-ins or the vengeance of angry drug dealers and users. But Lana was convinced Cynthia wasn’t just a tragic statistic. And that finding out the truth would bring in so much more.

Beneath her, her husband Enrique gently licked at her labia, his long equine tongue lapping and working her folds. She loved that man so much. He helped her focus, his intimate ministrations keeping her mind focused on more important tasks. He was a loveable asshole, the sort of male who was a dominant alpha on the outside but a submissive little bitch on the inside. No matter how many department stores he owned, no matter how many millions he accumulated, it meant nothing if he couldn’t spend a few hours each night under his mistress’s heel.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, honey. Dig your tongue in deeper.”

“I’m sorry, dear.” Enrique pushed his muzzle in further, his breath hot on Lana’s folds.

The best part in Lana’s mind was that he could have picked any wife he wanted. Pretty, bitchy girls had thrown themselves at him, instantly seizing on him as a mark they could milk for decades. But he had chosen Lana, a fellow equine who was generally introduced as “having a great personality.” Rather than some bitchy gold digger with nice hair, he had gone for an unattractive detective buried in law school debt and without a degree to show for it. Maybe it was the way she punished him. Maybe he liked the way she ruled his life, and kept him from being truly exploited. Maybe he really did love her the way she loved him. Any way, he belonged to her, and it was his money, his connections and his influence that had ensured Lana found herself in a higher social circle than she deserved.

That wasn’t to say it had been easy. Lana still had to routinely prove herself, whether it be during the physical fitness exam, on the shooting range, or just under the thumb of her idiot bosses. The old boy’s club that was the Los Angeles police department still hated her inexplicably, still played down her achievements, still acted like any old, overweight, near-blind cop was better than Lana just because he happened to have a dick. But she cleared cases, and the prosecutors loved her. She never manipulated or falsified evidence, she gave great testimony on the stand, and reliably produced rock-solid cases that even a first-year law school student could carry to a conviction. Maybe that was why the other cops hated her, everything she did proved them wrong, and cops were not the sort of people who easily admitted to being wrong.

Lana reached down and grabbed Enrique’s mane, pulling his face up into the gap between her waist and the table top. “Did my bad, nasty husband fuck any dumb bitches today?”

“Only Tiffany. After she finished inventory.”

Lana liked Tiffany. A petite and friendly Chinchilla girl, they had met at a swinger’s party. Lana often “forced” Enrique to fuck her, knowing that Tiffany would discuss all the filthy details over coffee on the weekend. Lana loved Tiffany’s stories, she was always so lurid in her descriptions. It was a shame she’d never succeeded in getting that writing scholarship at UCLA. The world had lost a great erotic fiction writer because some prudish academic advisor couldn’t bear to read the word “cunt” in a piece of creative writing.

“Anyone else this week? You do know how much I love to hear of your little ‘conquests’.”

“Just that vixen on Tuesday. She calls herself Lindzi but her credit card rings up as Kelsey Meyer. I think she’s an actress or something.”

“Mmm, you nasty little starfucker.” Lana pulled her thighs together, squeezing Enrique between her legs until he whimpered with satisfaction. “Wait, was she called Lindzi Stratos?”

Lana closed her mind, thinking back to what she had stored at the office. At the time of her death, Cynthia was living in a mansion that belonged to Double-Ace Film Productions, a porno company of dubious reputation. The mansion was no doubt just a tax dodge for the company, claimed as a “business expense” but really the private residence of whoever was in charge. Of course, Double-Ace was owned by a holding company, which was owned by a foreign holding company, which was owned by who-knows. But someone had to be there who knew what was going on. And if Lindzi was dumb enough for Enrique to feel safe fucking her, then odds are she was dumb enough to say or do something that Lana could use. “I’ll have to talk to her next time she comes in.”

“I’ll call you next time she drops by. She always takes a really long time, so you should have no trouble meeting with her.”

“I’m sure it will work out. For now, though, I do believe it’s time you were punished for cheating on your wife with such a nasty slut.” Lana stood up, grabbing Enrique by his mane and dragging him along behind her. He whimpered pathetically, even though Lana made sure she wasn’t pulling too hard. It was all a game to him, and the more feigned suffering he had, the happier he was. She “tossed” him onto the bed, really just letting him stumble and fall onto it, giving his exposed ass a firm smack. “If you’re so interested in penetrating sluts, perhaps it’s time I penetrated you.”

“No, please, honey! Anything but that!” Enrique grabbed and bit at the sheets, making his ass jiggle. He curled back his tail, revealing his large black tailhole.

“Oh but how else will I get you to behave? It’s the only punishment you understand!” In truth, Lana wasn’t too fond of these ass-play sessions. Butts were gross, and the necessary prep work and subsequent cleaning were a real chore. Plus, not having a dick, it wasn’t like she had any real fun for herself, other than the fun of seeing her husband have a good time. But it was the ultimate “humiliation” for Enrique, and he loved it. And that made it worth doing.

Lana retrieved the vibrator and lubricant from the night stand, slicking it up well. It was pretty substantial in size — Lana had originally bought it for herself, but it became Enrique’s the first time she walked in on him shoving it up his ass. She had been disgusted at first, but she got over it quickly. It made Enrique happy, and there was plenty of money in her monthly allowance to get another one.

“Ahh no, at least be gentle with it!” Enrique bit the sheets even harder as the rubber slid up his ass, the bright silver sheen glinting from his rear end. He braced his legs against the bed, yowling all the louder through clenched teeth as Lana worked the dildo inside of him.

Lana had to struggle not to burst out laughing. This was all just so absurd. Here Enrique was being “punished” and he loved every bit of it. He was supposed to be humiliated, but instead his enormous shaft was as hard as a rock. She had never been into this stuff as much as Enrique, but it wasn’t about what she wanted. It was the same set of skills she used to break down a criminal into confessing, or get a witness to remember key information. Learn what their buttons were, then push them in the right order, and you got a prize. “Were you gentle with that Lindzi bitch? I bet not. In fact I bet I could go get the security camera footage and see you getting rough with that little slut, just the way you like it. You deserve this!” Lana flipped the switch on the vibrator, sending it shaking and shuddering as she jammed it up Enrique’s ass all the way to the hilt.

“No, please honey, have mercy!” The vibrations from the dildo made Enrique’s ass jiggle all the harder, though this was soon supplemented by firm smacks and slaps from Lana’s hands.

“If I have mercy, then you’ll never learn!” She brought down her hand again, leaving a firm handprint on her husband’s ass. This was fun for her, seeing if she could bring in just the right amount of pain. Enough to make Enrique enjoy himself, but not so much that he really felt like he was hurt. It was like one of those really difficult recipes she’d had in Home Ec. All about remembering what you’d learned, paying close attention, and being deliberate in her actions. She loved puzzles like that, especially ones that made someone else so happy with her solution. “In fact, I think you’re ready for the highest setting!” She twisted the edge of the dildo to its max, causing the low hum to shift into a loud buzz.

Enrique howled in protest, even as his shaft throbbed hard, dripping a steady stream of precum down onto the sheets. “I’m sorry honey! I’m a bad husband, I deserve this!” He arched his back, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed and pushing himself up as he whinnied towards the ceiling.

“Maybe so, but what about my needs?” Lana grabbed Enrique by his shoulder, flipping him over in one firm pull. His shaft wobbled comically between his legs as he laid out on the bed, his arms and legs splayed wildly as the dildo continued to buzz and bounce between his ass cheeks. Lana grabbed a condom out of the nearby nightstand and slipped it on Enrique in one long, smooth motion. Her hand on the base of the shaft, she gripped him firmly, rubbing his tip against the edges of her slit for a few moments before sinking down in one long, hard thrust.

“Not a condom! If I can’t cum in my wife, who can I cum in?”

Lana gripped Enrique’s shoulders, using them as leverage while she pushed and pulled herself up and down on the shaft. “Why not more of those dumb sluts you fool around with, you philandering piece of shit? I’ll ditch the condoms when you ditch the whores!” To think that most wives couldn’t really express the frustration they felt with their husbands. Here she could lay into him with every bit of anger and disappointment she had all day, and he ate it up like candy. It was the most healthy of unhealthy relationships.

It was slow going as she slid down onto his cock. Lana had grown pretty loose over the years, but even her “experienced” hole had trouble with Enrique’s considerable size. Still, she loved the thing, love the way it felt inside her, loved how she had complete control over the experience. Other males would have tried to lead her, tried to take control of what was going on and dictate how things played out. But Enrique was happy to lay there and take it, even if he did feign protest.

“I’m sorry honey, I’ll be better, I promise!” Enrique couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He grabbed Lana, pulling her down onto his shaft, pushing and thrusting up into her gently. He shoved and pushed inside of her, his length throbbing against its rubber container, her juices dripping down his length and balls.

“Enough talk - shut up and fuck me!” Lana arched her back, putting more weight onto the shaft, letting it sink into her. She ground on it gently, gyrating her hips this way and that. This was the best part, when she was really in control. When she had someone totally subjected to her whims, and openly wanting to give her what she wanted. Any dumb thug could beat someone into submission, but Lana had them begging for the chance to obey her, even when doing so was much more in her interest than theirs. The only difference between her husband and a suspect was the fact only fucked the suspects metaphorically.

Enrique devoured it, letting her teach him what it meant to be fucked, rather than just doing the fucking. Mentally, he “needed” to let himself out with those sluts, to scratch that itch that monogamy couldn’t reach. But he always came back to Lana on his knees, begging for forgiveness that he wanted her to force him to earn. It had taken some getting used to, but she loved it now, this perverse loyalty where he came back no matter who he had been with. It was certainly a boost to her ego, letting her know that even the prettiest girl in town could only woo her husband for as long as it took for him to get his rocks off. Enrique would go to bed with any decent ass that got within three inches of his cock. But Lana was the one he woke up with every morning.

For now, though, it was time to put him through his paces. Lana shifted from the bump and grind to a hard slam, putting her weight into each thrust. She was a big girl, almost as tall as her husband, and each thrust sent the bed creaking and straining, springs and wood struggling to absorb and disperse all the force. Still she kept on coming, pushing down on him, pounding his length into her, sending her tits flying wildly. They smacked into Enrique’s face, making him whimper, but she just grabbed his head and pulled him into her cleavage, growling as she did so. “You like these huh? Then you can choke on ‘em!”

Enrique mumbled a reply, his words absorbed by her flesh. His hands and thighs, though, sent a better message. He grabbed her hips and began to thrust, putting his powerful abs to work. He struggled to pull up against gravity, his purchase precarious and weak due to the poor base provided by the mattress. But it didn’t dim his enthusiasm, and with each powerful motion he made clear that he wanted this.

Lana couldn’t last much longer under this assault. The way he had been working her labia and clit under the kitchen table, the mental satisfaction of completely dominating a bigger, handsomer, richer male, all of it had sent Lana into a furor. Her orgasm was harsh, an overpowering brain-blank that sent her stumbling. She became dizzy, forced to collapse on her husband and grab at him blindly for support. Her sex fluttered wildly, spraying fluid as it responded intently to her sexual satisfaction. It was maddening, satisfying, bestial, lustful sex.

Beneath her, Enrique was no less satisfied. He let out a powerful whinny as he went off, blasting like a broken water main into the condom, shot after shot sinking into the reservoir. He held onto Lana tightly, almost crushing her in his embrace, pulling her to him as he unloaded himself inside of her.

They laid there, panting and gasping for breath for quite some time before Lana managed to summon the strength to pull herself off of her husband. There was a disgusting, wet noise as she extracted herself from atop his flaccid member, the ballooned condom wobbling and shaking in the open air. Unable to move, she closed her eyes and took in long, slow breaths in an effort to stabilize herself. She smiled lightly, holding Enrique’s hand in hers, her legs dangling off the bed at the knee.

“I love you.”

“I know you do, hubby.” Lana leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you. I feel very relaxed now. Once my knees are working again, I’ll head back into the office and crack this case wide open. You really help me think, you know.”

“Back to the office? It’s past ten PM. Are you sure you should be working so late?”

“Crime never sleeps, and neither do I.” Lana got up slowly, disposing of the used condom and retrieving the dildo. She carried the simulated phallus into the bathroom, dropping it into the sink then filling it with water and a dab of bleach. “I could certainly use a shower after all that exercise. Maybe you could come in and wash my back?”

“Sure thing honey!” Enrique bounded forward, apparently not dissuaded by his exhaustion, though his knees and elbows shook slightly as he moved. He grabbed the loofah as he jumped into the shower, eagerly squirting shampoo into it and applying it to Lana’s back.

“Mmm, right there.” Lana cooed, pushing herself against his hand. She’d made progress on her case, had a mind blowing orgasm with her amazing husband, and gotten a back massage all within three hours of coming home. Not bad for a Tuesday.