Chapter 9
Sky Jackson's broad face was grim as he questioned the bartender.
"If Grey came in pretty often . . . then maybe he has a bar tab that'd have his address on it..."
Reluctantly, the barkeep admitted that there was such a record and gave it to the broad-faced detective. Sky persisted in his search for information.
"Did he say anything while he was here?"
"Well . . . seems he lost his job over at Northern. He mentioned that Don Proctor - you know him . . . he's Chief of Security -anyway something about Proctor getting him fired ..." the barkeep told him.
"Thanks . . . that'll help ..." Sky said, turning to leave.
Outside, he looked at the address the bartender had given him, got into the unmarked police car and gave the young driver the address.
Sky Jackson had had no trouble in gaining reinstatement with the Seattle Police Department. He had left the department in good faith to take the security job at Northern; he had been taken back with few questions. Good, well-trained policemen were hard to get . . . and keep.
When they arrived at the apartment complex, Sky was not surprised to find Don Proctor's car parked near by. He checked the registration to make sure.
Sky told his young driver to wait for him . . . that he wanted to check out this one alone. As Sky walked along, he reviewed what had happened: The president of Northern had reported a theft of documents. The company Security Chief was not in the plant. Phil Grey had been fired; it was his project data that was missing. A new, young typist from the secretarial pool had left the plant saying she was sick. The woman may or may not have had any connection with the theft. Those were the bare facts. Sky had been detailed to bring in Phil Grey for questioning, but somehow the uniformed investigating officer had not gotten Grey's address. Sky had had to dig for it, finally hitting pay dirt at the bar.
Mounting the stairs to the Grey apartment, softly, cautiously, Sky tried the door, found it open and slipped inside. Voices came to him from the bedroom. He recognized Don's voice. The other one, he guessed, must be that of Phil Grey. He stood, silently, waiting and listening. Phil's voice came to him, clearly.
"I've already told you . . . everything I know about her. I knew her as Wini Brent... I don't know anything about Bea Palmer . . . that's just a name ... to me!"
"Where'd she go?" Don barked.
"I don't know ... I told you!"
CRACK! It was the sound of flesh on flesh!
"Don't lie to me! Where were you going to meet her?"
"God damn it!" Phil said. "I've already told you ... I don't know anything about her ... I don't know where she was going . . . and I sure as hell wasn't meeting her anyplace!"
"I know something that'll make you talk ... Grey!" the security man said. "Turn over on your belly . . . bitch!"
Rhoda obeyed. "W-what are you going to do . . . t-to m-me .. . now?" she asked.
"I'm going to fuck you in the ass, Rhoda, baby! Maybe, your smart-ass husband'll come through with what I want to know when he sees your tight little asshole squirming on the end of my cock!"
She gasped, "No! No! Please . .. don't do that? Anything but that!"
Phil grated out, "Proctor! You son-of-a-bitch ... if I ever get my hands on you . . . they'll have to rebuild your face!"
Proctor grunted out a short laugh. "You're too late! It's already been re-built once ... I cracked up a big Diesel rig on the freeway . . . once! That was several years ago!
"Too bad it didn't kill you, then!" Phil rejoined.
"I'm too tough for that!" Don boasted.
Sky slipped up closer to the bedroom door, his broad face working. He had to make a move, soon, but he didn't want either Phil or Rhoda to be endangered; additionally, he had to know how well-armed his quarry was before moving in on him.
"All right, Rhoda, baby," Don went on, "Get up on your knees!"
Dully, Rhoda obeyed him, hauling herself up until her buttocks waved in the air behind her, vulnerable and unprotected. Don Proctor climbed onto the bed behind her. He stroked his massive cock to rock-hardness, as his twisted, diabolical smile split his face.
Don knew that he could have made it easier for her by stretching her first with his fingers, but he wanted this to be the ultimate, sadistic, humiliating torment to which he had subjected her . . . and to do it before the watching eyes of her husband gave him a perverse pleasure. Damn! This is going to be some real fun, he thought, as he put some saliva on the blood-engorged head of his penis.
"Now, reach back . . . and spread the cheeks of that beautiful ass!" the depraved security guard commanded.
"Don't do it, Rhoda!" Phil ordered.
CRACK! Don's fist scored again on the defenseless man's face! "Shut up! Unless you've got some answers!" he roared.
Rhoda reached up behind her, as she rested her weight on her shoulders, her hands trembling, to spread the rounded, white half-moons of her buttocks, exposing to him, completely, her defenseless, puckered anus.
My God! He's insane!
Moving in close behind her, on his knees, Don prodded his giant cock against the tiny, tight opening of her back passage, worming the tip of it into her until he felt the tight elastic muscle ring begin to give way. Suddenly, he gave a savage thrust to his hips and felt the lust-inflated head slip into the sheath of her rectum.
The pain was almost unbearable to her; it felt like a telephone pole was being shoved into her. She tried to pull away from him, but his hands on her hips held her firmly in place.
"OOOOOooooh! God! Oh, Christ Jesus! NOOooo! It hurts! You're splitting me open!"
Don grinned, crookedly, at her cry of protest. Excitement rose in him. It was supposed to hurt! That's what he intended. He looked over at Phil.
"You got some answers . . . now!"
Phil grated, "No! I've told you all I know!"
Rhoda could barely think, the pain in her backside permeated the whole of her loins, now. There was nothing she could do but endure it.
God! I'm helpless! Oh, it hurts so much!
"Push back . . . against me!" Don ordered.
"God! It's too big! It'll kill me!" she screamed.
Roughly his hands pulled on her hips; at the same time, he thrust with his hips and his cock surged inexorably up into the soft, sponginess of her rectum, stretching her unrelentingly ever wider and wider.
Then, she heard Don's harsh giggle of delight as he rammed into her the last half-inch. She had absorbed all of him into her wide-stretched back channel. Now, he began to saw in and out of her without mercy.
Rhoda dug her nails into her palms, bit at her lower lip to keep back the groans of pain, and little by little the hurtful sensations began to ease. Strangely, to her, as the pain was dissipated, she sensed a strong sexual stimulation, a warmth that spread in her loins; then, abruptly she commenced to feel a masochistic joy in her position, of being sodomized, the pleasurable sensations of that massive cock in her rectum blotting out all reason.
I've really flipped. . . now! It's starting to feel good. . . and it's crazy t-to want something like this. . . to be fucked in the ass! God! I'll never be the same!
Suddenly, she realized that she was moving with him, countering his thrusts, heaving backward to meet him, undulating her hips to increase the pleasurable sensations. She wanted it to go on and on... to completion, her lust-crazed mind accepting the fact that she could.
Well! I've been fucked. . . almost every way possible! Don's made a good whore out of m-me! He's degraded me... humiliated me. . . fucked me. . . and made me like it! I'm so on fire with sex . . . one man would never be able to satisfy me! Would Phil ever be able to understand me. . . oh, Christ! His cock in my asshole feels . . . so good!
Don gloated, "God damn! Grey . . . the little bitch likes it! Look at her wiggle her ass . . . would you!"
"Proctor . . . you perverted bastard!" Phil ground out. "If I ever get loose . . . I'll take care of both of you!"
Rhoda groaned and gurgled as Don's pelvis smacked into her bottom, his rampaging rod of flesh moving searingly in her back passage, building a perverse ecstatic passion in her.
Outside the bedroom door, Sky decided that Don was fully distracted, now. Now was the time!
The detective came through the door, gun in hand, and put the muzzle of the lethal .38 at the base of Don's skull.
"That's all, Don! Crawl off!"
The security guard recognized Sky's voice. He knew better than to argue.
"What the hell!" he grunted.
"I'm taking you in!" the broad-faced policeman said. "Now get dressed!"
Sky collected the weapons from the dresser and put them in his pocket, as Don pulled his rapidly deflating prick from Rhoda's anal passage. Quickly, she scrambled away from him, her face reddening; blindly she grabbed for a pillow to cover her body, the shame and humiliation in her bringing quick tears.
"Sky!" she choked. "How ..."
"Never mind, little lady . . . it's all over!"
Phil grated. "Thanks Officer... let me go . . . and I'll take that son-of-a-bitch apart!"
"You'll not touch him! He's under arrest . . . and my prisoner! I'll take you in, too ... if I have to!" Sky told him, sternly. Then, to Proctor, "Give me the key to these cuffs . . . carefully!"
Don who was now fully dressed reached into a pocket and handed the broad-faced detective the proper key. In a few moments. Phil was free. He glared malevolently at the security guard, restrained from any further action by the cop's warning. The young husband stood to his feet and stretched his cramped muscles.
"Let's go, Proctor!" Sky commanded, pulling Don's arms behind him and putting manacles on his wrists. He led the now docile man to the front door; Phil followed, but Rhoda remained on the bed enveloped in her tears of shame.
At the door, Sky turned to Phil and said, "Go easy on the little lady . . . she's had a bad time! Proctor here forced her, you know!"
"I know!"
"One other thing!" Sky said. "I want you to come down to police headquarters in the morning... we want you to answer some questions about the disappearance of certain documents at Northern! We also want to know what you know about Bea Palmer!"
"Wini Brent ..."
"Yes . . . that was just a cover she used!" Sky explained.
"I'll be there!" Phil promised.
Walking toward the police unit, Sky began talking to Don Proctor, "Don, I'm taking you in on rape, assault and kidnapping ... all felonies, but there's something else ..."
He stopped and faced his prisoner before going on, "After I quit security at Northern and I got back on the department, I did some leg work on you ... I found out some interesting things . . . and what I learned bothers me ... "
"Like what . . . smart ass!"
"Like your real name!"
"My name's Don Proctor!"
"Like hell it is!" Sky said, "It's Ray Steel!"
"You can't prove that!"
"We'll see! Now you listen good, you no-good, perverted son-of-a-bitch!" Sky said, intensely. "This is what really bothers me ... I found out you left your first wife . . . and a little five year old girl . . . left them with nothing!"
"So ..."
"That little lady ... up there . . . Rhoda Grey ... is that little daughter...you abandoned . . . sixteen years ago!"
Don snarled, "That's a lie!"
Sky's broad face showed his deep emotion. "I know it for a fact! I was going to give it to the D.A. . . . but I couldn't do that . . . without hurting her. I don't want her to ever know! You've ruined that little lady . . . she never had a chance!"
"What a cock and bull story!" Don growled. "She loved every minute of it!"
The broad-faced detective went on, determination to carry through his plan evident on his grim visage.
"Let me tell you what's going to happen ... I'm going to give you a running chance when we get to the patrol car . . . but whether you take the chance or not. . . one way or the other . . . you're a dead man!"
Don Proctor's face turned chalky white! He sputtered, all of his bravado gone. His shoulders sagged.
"N-no! Y-you wouldn't . . . that's murder ..."
"That's where you're wrong, Ray Steel . . . alias Don Proctor ... I think they'll call it justifiable homicide!" Sky grated. "Start walking!"
The young policeman waiting in the patrol unit saw them approaching. He dismounted and came around to the curbside rear door to assist Sky Jackson with his prisoner.
When the two men were five paces away from the car, Sky gave Don a shove forward. "Now!" he grunted under his breath.
"Thanks for nothing . . . you bastard!" Don said aloud.
Suddenly, he began to run, awkwardly, down the sidewalk.
"Stop!" Sky shouted, drawing his pistol; his first shot was fired in the air.
Aiming carefully, fully accepting his role as self-appointed executioner, Sky Jackson squeezed the trigger and sent a .38 slug crashing through the brain of the fleeing man. The young cop had his gun out, now. He fired twice, scoring body hits before the corpse of Don Proctor slid, crazily, to a stop on the concrete sidewalk.
Sky turned away and sat down on the curb. He issued his orders with a calm voice. "Report," he said. "That prisoner, white man, age 47, height 5' 10", weight 180 pounds, shot and killed, resisting arrest... give this address ..."
"What's the man's name, Sergeant..."
"Don . . . Don Proctor!" Sky said, his broad face a grim mask.
I hope that evens the score . . . little lady. And you'll never know... now, who Don Proctor really was! God! It makes me sick to my stomach!
The nausea came . . . and he retched . . . until he was dry.
In the Grey apartment, Rhoda heard the fusillade of shots. She came into the living room, a startled look on her face.
"What ..."
Phil was seated on the couch. He did not move; his answer was laconic. "Proctor ... I guess ..." Rhoda gasped. "Dead ..." "Probably ..."
"Phil ... he forced me ... to do it!" she said. "I know!"
"I couldn't help myself..." she said, walking toward him.
"Stay where you are!" Phil ordered.
Rhoda stopped dead in her tracks. "What's wrong . . . Phil?"
"Get down on your knees!"
Rhoda knelt on the floor. She said, "Phil . . . will you try to understand . . . t-try to f-forgive me ... " "I'll give it some thought ..." he said.
"Oh, Phil .. . please? Tell me what you want of me ... " "Crawl on your hands and knees over here!" he ordered, harshly; then, he added, "You little bitch!"
"Oh, Phil! You don't understand!" Rhoda wailed. "You don't know what I . . . went through for you!"
"I understand plenty! You were fucking him like the little whore you are!" he roared.
"He made me do it . . . " she sobbed.
"Shut up . . . and start crawling!"
Rhoda crawled!
"Please . . . Phil ... I'm your wife ..." she begged. "Please, don't treat me l-like this!"
"I'm treating you the way you deserve to be treated!" he said, a sadistic smile on his face. "When, you get here . . . you can take out my cock and suck it like you've done to all those others.
"Ooooh!" she sobbed.
"After that ... I'll decide what else I want to do to you. How do you like it best ... in your cunt ... or your ass?"