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DISCLAIMER: The following FICTIONAL story is intended only for open-minded Adults aged 18 years or older (21 in some jurisdictions), and may contain instances of underage characters depicted performing sexual acts, as well as other content which might be considered objectionable. The author(s) of this work do not advocate or condone any of the acts depicted in the writings present. None of these stories are based on real events in any way, and the author's find it reprehensible to even think of committing the acts in reality. The stories are works of fantasy only and should be considered as such. If you do not wish to view such content, please navigate from the page immediately.

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The Cops’ New Toys

A Police Corruption and Mafia story by:

Marciana Abbatelli (Marci) & Ra'Arsenio Basilio (Arsen)

Part 9: The Olive Oil Factory

As the two of them were driven along toward their next destination, the family Oil Factory near Bari, Arsen laid out his own idea for the wedding. He wet his lips and then broached his plan, “Since you are going to break tradition a bit and have a ‘Man of honor’ rather than a maid, I was thinking that I too would break tradition a bit. I would like to have a ‘Best Femme’ rather than a best man. My best friend is a femme named Kyou Matsuoka. We worked together for a while on several cases and she’s always had my back. Feels like I do about the whole damn system and the way that things are going.”

Marci listened to him, and smiled up at him. “Her name sounds Japanese. She sounds as loyal to you as Gaspare is to me. I have no problem with the traditional roles being reversed for the best femme and man of honor. Because, other than our parents, our best friends know us the best.” She cuddled up to his side, laying her head on his shoulder as the car sped down the highway towards their next destination.

“I’m actually thinking about bringing her with me into the organization. I trust her with my life. She would make an excellent domme for the ring as I get it setup, and I think that it’s something she would enjoy doing. She has a knack for pulling off elegant, innocent and mysterious all at the same time. But she’s tough as nails if you cross her.” He smiled as Marci laid her head down on his shoulder, “And yes, Kyou is Japanese. She’s a Japanese Sable.”

“She sounds lovely, Arsen. I hope I don’t have to worry about her trying to steal you away from me,” the look she gave with those words was teasing, at least mostly. There was a hint of worry, as she knew feral sables were gorgeous creatures, so it only stands to say an anthro sable would be just as gorgeous. “I think I pulled those three off perfectly for years. At least until you saw through to my inner fire in that picture that you fell in love with me over.”

He turned his head and bent it to kiss her on the top of the head between her soft ears. After nuzzling for a moment, he pulled back and said, “Though she has been known to flirt with men, including myself, and even have sex with them when she’s in the mood, let’s just say that she would be more likely to go after your lovely charms than she would mine. She is most affirmatively in the feminine camp when it comes to her desires. So no worries there.”

The tip of her tail thumped against the seat as Arsen told her there was no worry from Kyou, and she looked up at him. “I’ve never even thought about femmes that way. But then again, I didn’t really think about males in that way either, until you.” She pointed out the window as she spotted something - a sperm whale starting to emerge from the water. “Look, Arsen,” she said, drawing his attention to the window and the scene beyond. As they watched, the whale shot up into the air, then fell back into the water, swiftly followed by a couple others breaching as well.

“I’m going to broaden your horizons and ideas, my sweet.” Arsen said softly, “Your life will most certainly never be dull with me around.” He chuckled and nuzzled the top of her head again, then turned to look where she pointed. The majestic sight of the whales breaching from the water and falling back with a splash, or shooting their fountains high into the air was breathtaking. “I think we shall have to spend some time on the beach...watching the waves, getting some sun. Does your family own any beachfront property?”

She fake-gasped at his words. “Spend time on the beach? You mean, like a break from work? A…. holiday?” The twinkle in her eyes showed that she was playing, though it had been a long time since she got to relax like that on a beach, or anywhere in fact. She shook her head, “No, most of the property has been inland, or on cliffs. Even the resort is on a cliff, though it has stairs and an escalator down to the beach itself. I think the last time I was on a beach that wasn’t part of the resort was about 4 years ago.”

He laughed at her fake surprise, “Yes darling, a beach. A break.” he gave his head a shake and licked the tip of her nose a time or two, “We are lovebirds. I think we’re entitled to some alone time relaxing with one another. And since you don’t own a beachfront property, just cliffs, I shall have to remedy that and find us a private beach to buy or rent for a while. Besides, I want to see you in a Bikini.”

She blushed and turned her face into his chest, a soft murr slipping from her at his interest. Her tail wagged as well and she nuzzled him for a bit before looking up at him. “I’d like to own an estate on the water, if you find one to buy. Even if it’s a cliffside estate with a path down to the beach.” With all the things her family was practically accused of, there seemed to be a reason for the cliffs for their estates, and with Arsen’s proposed new addition to the family business, making use of the cliffs would be very beneficial to the business.

“I know that a lot of Italy's cost is made up of cliffs rather than beaches, but I’m sure we can find something with a private area only for ourselves. Perhaps we can even purchase a Yacht for some sailing voyages.” He liked to dream big, but he didn’t feel like anything was out of the question now, not with the big plans he had and the already substantial family assets. “Things aren’t going to be all work with us, Marci.”

She smiled as she tilted her head back on the seat to look up at him. “I hope we take plenty of time for us, then, tesoro. I have lots of places that I’d love to see and I think they might look different to you now as well.” She snuggled against him, wagging her tail and murring softly. “And a yacht sounds wonderful. Going out on the water and seeing the whales close-up, or the dolphins.”

“We have our whole lives ahead of us. I’ll still travel the world from time to time on business, both my interpol work and my work with the ring. There will be ample time to take you along on those. And of course vacations as well just for the two of us, once I’m sure everything's running smoothly.” He turned to kiss her lightly again, and then settled back even further into the cushion of the carseats. “We will be the ultimate image of a couple in love and living the high life. Not only because that’s what we want to do, but also because it will definitely help with the squeaky clean image I’m going to try and portray to Interpol, while fingering Salvatore and his family for some of the dirty business.”

Marci snuggled against Arsen, pulling her hindpaws up on the seat as she curled against his side. “We are a squeaky clean family. I mean, we just got out of the shower this morning and washed each other, so we better be clean,” she chuckled and leaned against him.

As the winery was already 20 minutes outside San Vito dei Normanni, the trip to the olive oil factory, which was 10 minutes outside Bari, was only a 30 minute trip, and it seemed to pass by quickly. Soon enough, Fredo was turning off the highway and heading towards the factory to show Arsen the process there as well as to check the books.

The two of them arrived at the factory in good order. This time, while there were definite hints of the days gone by in some of the architecture, the majority of the place appeared to be more modern in its layout and design, with several large storage buildings, stainless steel tanks, and a few semi trucks seen in the distance where they would be loading and unloading the equipment and supplies for the operation.

Arsen stepped from the car again and helped Marci out, then nodded, “A bit more industrial this time around.” He said with a gesture toward the place.

Marci nodded as she stepped from the car, her paw in Arsen’s. Giacoma bounded out after them, dancing in place while both Amore and Tiziano finally emerged from the car as well. “Ir mijar (Go pee - Portuguese),” she told them, turning to see the factory through Arsen’s eyes. “It’s a little more difficult to mass produce olive oil in an old fashioned building. But most of the houses around here have their own olive press, where the femmes used to make their own oil blend. Each family had their own signature blend, and the recipe was passed down from mother to daughter for generations.” Leaning against his side, tucked under his arm, she thought about it, then the words came to her.

“Wine, especially the quality of wine that our winery produces, can still be made in small batches, so it doesn’t go bad in the fermenting stage, but oil doesn’t need to ferment. We only produce one hundred bottles of the various types of wines that we carry - a hundred bottles of merlot, a hundred of zinfandel, a hundred of chardonnay, etc. But we produce a lot more in olive oil than wine. Wine is our biggest seller, since it goes for much more, but both produce a hefty income.”

Arsen took in what she was saying with another nod of his head and furrowed brows. He found the process for making both of the products interesting, and it was important that he knew the workings of both of them if he was going to have anything to do with their continued proper operation. As they walked toward the entrance he kept up the conversation, “So then, while this is a commercial enterprise, are the secrets passed down from your mother? Or are they simply family oil recipes? It makes sense that the wines are more popular and more expensive.”

Marci shook her head, a smile gracing her muzzle. “No, Mamãe is not Italian-born and bred. She taught me some Brazilian recipes that were passed down from her mother. But the main oil here at the factory is a standard oil. My own oil press was what Nonna (grandmother - Italian) taught Mamãe and I both. And Mamãe and I have played a bit with some Brazilian spices and flavors in our family oils.”

“Here I am blabbering on. I knew your mother wasn’t Italian.” He laughed and shook his head, running a paw through his hair and pushing it back from his face. He itched the back of his neck and chuckled some more, “Still, it is nice that your Nonna taught you about oil and how to make it for your own. That way it will be passed on still. It’s one more way that your father’s family welcomed your mother’s into the family.”

“Nonna is an angel. She’s never had a mean bone in her body. At least, not that I’ve heard. But Nonna grew up during the War. I’m not sure what she did during that time, but no Italian worth their nationality stood by and did nothing. But Nonna refuses to talk about it. I’ll take you to meet her tomorrow, if you’d like,” she said, stretching up on the toes of her boots to kiss his cheek. “I’d need to call her tonight to let her know to expect us tomorrow, or if tomorrow isn’t good, the day before we go see her.”

“I’m not sure what will be happening tomorrow. After I’m done with you tonight you might not want to go anywhere,” he chuckled and leaned over to kiss the side of her face in return. “It would be fascinating to visit her though. I would like to ask her about the war and it’s only right that she meet me before her granddaughter gets married.” His arm remained around her shoulders as they walked up to the front doors of the building and waited for Adriano to open them before they walked in.

“Just be aware that Nonna flirts with all males. Light flirting back is appreciated by her, but not too much. She may be old-fashioned in some ways, but she's definitely full of femme equality. She believes that the arranged marriages work, but she also believes in love. But she doesn't believe in abusing your mate. Nonno (grandfather - Italian) used to take a walk when he was aggravated, whether it was Papai or Tio, or if it was the business. He wasn't about to take it out on Nonna.” As Marci explained the family history, Adriano opened the door and held it for them to enter.

Giacoma finished her business and raced over to them, not willing to let Marci go in without her. The male pups headed back to the car and Fredo, which added to the image that Interpol had of her only having Gia as her feral dog. Luckily, all three had accepted Arsen as pack leader, which they had never done before, other than Giancarlo. But they respected him as an elder of the pack and former pack leader, rather than current pack leader.

The amazing thing about their acceptance of Arsen was that he wasn’t even a canine, and yet the three of them had seemed to accept him. Perhaps due to the fact that Marci was the alpha female, and they could already sense the way she acted around the anthro serval male.

Arsen nodded, “I find that one must, by necessity, and especially in this modern age, assess ‘abuse’ with a critical eye. As kink and sexual aspects become more and more open, and in some cases more ‘deviant’, what one person thinks is abuse might be far different for the couple engaged in such activities.” What he was saying was, in essence, that some things he might do to her could be considered ‘abuse’ from an outside or critical or ‘prudish’ eye, but if Marci was a consenting participant, the truth was far different. “I will not abuse you, my sweet.” he murmured, kissing her on the top of the head and letting it linger for a moment.

Marci had plenty of questions about what he was saying, but took his words at face value. She figured he'd explain more when they got to the resort and to the suite that was theirs. For now, they had a tour to take and books to look at. Going into the factory, she angled slightly to the left, heading towards the reception desk and the manager’s office. She knew how things were done, but she enjoyed watching him during the winery tour and knew she'd enjoy his reaction to this tour as well. The receptionist waved them towards the manager's office.

There would be plenty of time for him to explain everything to her later. Things wouldn’t be so different between them in the long run, except that he was a very dominant male, and he was going to need submission from her in the bedroom. Just from their talks and actions the night before though, he didn’t anticipate any problems between them, at all. Keeping her close, they entered the oil factory and moved toward the office, moving past the receptionist and into the well appointed space for the head of plant operations.

As they entered the manager’s office at the factory, Marci had a smile on her muzzle, hiding any confusion behind her mask of cool, calm competence. “Celeste, before we go over the books this month, I would like to have my fiance, Ra’Arsenio Basilio, get a tour. He’s going to be working with me on the books for a while. My father wants him to know our businesses inside and out, so I thought a tour to go with the monthly book check would help him a lot with understanding what is done here.” Turning to Arsen, she smiled up at him and said, “Signore Ra’Arsenio Basilio, meet Signora Celeste Acconcio, plant manager for the olive oil factory.”

Arsen bowed slightly to the femme sitting behind the desk, and waited for her to stand and come around to greet them more properly. He showed her respect by taking her hand and kissing it lightly, but then stood straight, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Signora Celeste.” He smiled warmly at the introductions that Marci gave, “I look forward to seeing the entire place in operation. It’s the first time that I’ve ever been into the workings of the factories that produce some of Italy’s finest products.”

The camoscio (chamois - Italian) rose to her hind hooves with a warm smile for Marci, that dimmed a bit as she inclined her head to Arsen. Celeste tended to leave sexual attractions outside work, but also, she knew Arsen was off-limits as Marci’s fiance. In a rather soft voice, she motioned towards the door, saying, “If you’ll come this way, Signore Ra’Arsenio and Signorina Marciana, I’ll be more than happy to show you the process and introduce you to some of the key employees.”

The couple followed Celeste as she led them out of the management office through a side door that took them straight out into the operations room for the plant. Here several computers were monitoring various equipment and the security cameras. The shift supervisor was on duty here with a radio in his hand talking to someone, but he turned when he detected them behind him.

Marci paused by the first set of monitors, looking at the olive choices for the oils. First, the olives were sorted by machine based on their sizes, then by paw for their color. Black and green olives were sent to separate holding areas for canning. The olives that were turning from green to red were sent to another area for chopping. And the last ones, the red olives and the red-turning-to-black, were left on the conveyor belts for further processing into olive oils.

The shift supervisor was a Golden Jackal not much larger that Marci herself, if at all. He turned toward them and after greeting Marci with respect, presented a paw toward Arsen, which the Serval shook heartily, “I’m Roberto Canida, Shift Supervisor.” He introduced himself without any delay. Arsen returned the introduction, “Ra’Arsenio. Good to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” He said, then turned to the manager, “Conveyor one is acting up again, Ma’am. I’m afraid that motor’s going to burn up and damage something so we’re going to have to shut it down and get a repair crew.”

Celeste nodded a couple times, thinking how to keep production going with the conveyor down. “Get a repair crew in now. Have the workers hand sort by size. Hire extra workers to help keep production speed up to par.” Her paw hit a button that halted the conveyor immediately. "And don't use the crew we used last time. They didn't fix the conveyor. In fact, I want to look into that company more, since the motor wasn't this bad last time the conveyor acted up.”

“Conveyor two might be able to take a bit more load on it, but I’ll distribute and hire some people from the local towns.” He nodded at the manager and then rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, ‘I’ll have to call a crew from a few towns away, but I’ll get right on it.” He said, turning back and sitting down at one of the computers to run a search for repair crews that could handle this sort of operation. He had a phone in his paw a few moments later.

Arsen glanced around, “Trouble with the plant? I don’t mind waiting on that tour for now, because I would hate to foul up operations.”

Celeste sighed to herself, then said wryly, “There’s always something breaking down in any type of plant or factory. We’re just lucky that this particular conveyor gave us warning to adjust things beforehand. Normally, we just do routine maintenance on the machines to keep them in top working order. We can do an overview of the tour from here, with a basic rundown of what happens from the time the olives arrive until the time the oil leaves. Once the conveyor is back up, we can do that tour.”

Pointing to the screen with the conveyor in question on the monitors, she said, “Size, then color sorting happens here. Green and black olives are not used in olive oil, but we don’t just discard them. We can them and send them off for sale depending on their sizes. Then the greenish-red ones are chopped into smaller pieces and used in pimento loaf or olive loaf recipes as well as a few others, so we bottle them into jars for sale. The full red olives that are a good size are used for the oil as well as the reddish-black ones. They have the right acidity for oil. Small red olives are chopped, then used to stuff into some of the green olives before they’re bottled and sold.”

She smiled as she turned towards the monitors and pointed to the various teams working to process the olives into the right categories and then to the areas where olives were being canned and bottled. “While we are primarily an olive oil factory, we have a motto of ‘Everything has a purpose’. In this case, the olives we don’t use for oils also bring in a profit as canned or bottled olives or being sold to large meat-processing factories.”

Arsen nodded to Celeste and stepped over to the screens as she gestured to the various ones that illustrated what she was saying. Each bank of monitors showed off a separate part of the operation, and he was able to see each section clearly. Even at a distance and looking at it through a screen, he found the process pretty fascinating. A lot of it was done by machines, but there was still a lot of workers down on the floor that were in charge of quality control and sorting more precisely when necessary.

“I can see that everything is used to its fullest. Looks efficient, and well managed.” He smiled over at the woman, “The family thinks highly of your work and I must say that I’m impressed as well. I really am looking forward to getting the full tour once everything is back to working again.”

Celeste practically beamed with pleasure from his compliment. “Thank you. For now, though, we can return to the office and I’ll get the books for you to go over.” Looking at Roberto, she waited a moment for him to look over and, when he did, she repeated, “The name of the other company on my desk within the hour, please.” Turning, she lead Arsen and Marci back through the door they came in through, right into her office. “Please, have a seat while I get the books together.”

Arsen and Marci followed along, and took the pair of seats in front of the desk, slipping into them side by side. Adriano took up a position by the door and waited. Silence filled the air for a few minutes until Celeste turned back to them and handed across a large leather-bound book, as well as turning one of her computer monitors so that they could see it, “I’ve taken tips from Signore Martinelli about keeping books both physically and on the computer, though I confess that I don’t always have time to write in the physical books myself and I have one of our accountants do it. I personally manage the digital ones though and always check for discrepancies.”

Marci smiled at the chamois, nodding. “Two pairs of eyes often catch what one pair might miss,” she murred softly to Arsen. “Signora Celeste, have you ever caught discrepancies? And can you explain to my fiance how you do one set while the accountant handles the others?”

“As each batch of product, whatever product it is, ah.. Olives, Olive Oil, etc, is finalized and shipped to our buyers or to a warehouse, I physically inspect it and take down everything on a tablet that I carry. That tablet is synced to the database. My son is one of our accountants and he walks it with me and writes things down physically. At the end of the day we sit down together and go through the books to make sure that everything checks out. If there are any problems, we resolve them. Also, the supervisors on each production line are required to note everything down on their own computer system, so we are usually able to know where we need to look if there are any errors.”

She smiled at the two of them and then cleared her throat, “I've found discrepancies twice. Once when a worker accidently dropped a box of freshly canned Olive jars and broke three of them but conveniently forgot to mention that the box was three jars short. The computer system noted that the full box had gone out, but Erico, my son, discovered the problem in the written books. The employee was young and afraid of telling because he thought he would be fired, but we gave him another chance and he has never made a mistake since. The other discrepancy was when our database was hacked by a disgruntled employee. He felt we weren’t paying enough and sabotaged us. Luckily we kept backups and had the physical books, so things were corrected. He was arrested for computer tampering.”

Arsen listened with interest, nodding as he looked over several lines of both book forms, seeing that things were kept nearly as well as at the winery, though the books were not in the smooth, flowing script of Signore Martinelli. “I’m convinced that the system works.” He said with a chuckle, “Too often everyone relies on computers only these days.”

Marci chuckled and scanned over the physical books before looking to the monitor. “I remember the stories my father told of coming through and so many discrepancies in the books because of handwriting differences. I much prefer our new system for electronic as well as handwritten books to keep things on keel.” Her paw slipped into Arsen’s and she looked up at him. “We'll be back in a month or so. As you know, I like to keep the exactness of my visits to myself, so the line production employees don't stress over the boss’s visit.”

“Of course, Ma’am. We always welcome having you around to see the workings of the factory.” She stood and smiled at them, “And again, it was a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Arsen took her paw and shook it once more, then squeeze Marci’s in his own and nodded for them to be going now. Adriano opened the door for them and they stepped away from the desk and back out into the reception area, headed for the car. It was about the Lunch hour.

Gia ran ahead of them out the office and back into the reception area, then waited for them to catch up with her. Marci rose to her hindpaws after Arsen had, then slipped under his arm and against his side as they headed out. As they left the office, Adriano moved to the main door and looked out before opening it for them. Neither Arsen nor Marci moved until Adriano gave the okay to them. Then they walked out and to the car. Fredo had the backdoor open and Gia jumped in, going over to the male ferals before jumping up onto the seat.

Marci stepped into the car and slid over on the backseat so Arsen could get in. By this point, Adriano was at the backdoor and Fredo was moving to the driver's side front door.

Arsen stepped along with her when the guards were sure that everything was safe. Arsen was not used to having to wait for guards before he moved somewhere. He was an agent himself, trained and experienced and used to acting on his own, so it was a different experience for him. He slipped into the back seat beside Marci and his hip touched hers when he settled down, then slipped his arm around her shoulders and leaned back into the comfort of the seats, “On our way to the resort? We have a good afternoon ahead of us…”

Marci snuggled against him as his arm went around her shoulders, her head tilting to rest on his chest. “Yes, tesoro. We could have lunch in the reef suite or up in the restaurant. But dinner we could have sent down to us in the suite, so that whatever you have in mind for us can be uninterrupted for the rest of the evening.” She was more than a little nervous about the shots he wanted to give her, but she had already told him she would take them. And she was a little nervous about not knowing what he had planned, but his secrecy about the events about to transpire just made her more anxious to find out what he had planned for her.

Arsen smiled down at her as she relaxed against him. He put his arm around her and gave her shoulders a squeeze, “Why don’t we spend the entire time down in the reef suite. We have a lot to talk about and do this afternoon.” He closed his eyes and laid his head back a little bit, just letting himself rest up a little bit in preparation for what would be happening that afternoon and evening and maybe even the night. She was going to get his cock stuffed in places she would never have even thought of before she met him.