The Spider Pt. 04

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The suburbs.
7.1k words
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Part 4 of the 44 part series

Updated 06/16/2023
Created 08/12/2016
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In the outskirts of the City, there was a quiet suburb called Oak Lawn. It was your typical inner ring suburb, ringed with oak and pine trees, a flat and sprawling high school, modern and upscale chain stores and restaurants, winding and quiet streets. There were ranch houses, and a creek ran through the center of it. Bikes were laid safely on front lawns, yellow buses took children to school and brought them home to parents waiting for them to be dropped off again. And there was also a street there, Oak Haven, a street that looked just like all the other streets, for the most part.

It was a quiet street, shaded, peaceful. Nothing ever was out of place here. The streets were wide, and serene, broken only by the occasional vehicle driving through or children playing games. It was far from the rotting inner core of the City. One could live here, and come to imagine that nothing from the City would ever escape, would ever come to this nice, quiet place. This was a safe place. Things made sense here. The old order still stood.

On the front lawn of one of the houses on that street were two wooden lawn chairs.

The wooden chairs were arranged such that a couple could sit out there on a cool summer evening, and have a drink, and say hello to anyone who might pass by. The couple could say hello to the Hollisters up the street at 117 as they pushed the twins around in the stroller. The husband could go inside and pour more Hendricks and tonic, and when he returned the wife would be having a conversation with the retired couple from 218, who had just fed the ducks at the little manmade lake around the corner.

"Oh hi, Bob," he'd say when he got back, handing the drink to the slender blonde woman who was his wife. "Hi Alice. Wonderful night tonight."

"Sure is," Bob would say. "How's it on the force? You keeping safe there in the City? I bet you must see some things down there."

They always said that. Everyone always wanted to hear what it was like being a police officer in the City. Like it was a God damn movie or a TV show. As if he wanted to talk about it at the end of a long day, when he was safe back in the suburbs, where the wind blew cool through the leaves, and the shadows grew long waiting for the moonlight.

"Yeah," he said. "Never the same day twice."

******************************

And that's what they were doing, having a drink silently on their front lawn, when the Lexus pulled up. Just John had driven in from the City to pay a visit to the officer and his wife. He'd been making periodic trips out there for the last couple of months, nothing much, just an evening every couple of weeks or so.

John stepped out of the Lexus, and stretched himself out in the fresh air. He looked over at the couple, and gave a little wave. He crossed the lawn towards them. The wife looked up from her Hendricks and tonic. She smiled. She waved.

Her husband did neither of those things. He just looked at John as John crossed the lawn towards him and his wife on a cool, suburban evening.

"Hello, Rex," he said to the husband, who was now clenching his drink so hard that his knuckles were white. "Hello, Amanda. You look wonderful tonight. You never disappoint me."

Amanda blushed at the compliment, and brought her drink to her lips to hide her pleasure at the compliment, the bubbles of the tonic tickling her nose.

John stood there for a couple of moments, looking at them both in the face, first Amanda, then Rex, then back again. They looked about how he had thought they would. She was pleased to see him; it was easy to see. And why not. They had become very close lately.

Rex, though, was a different story. He seemed stressed, upset. The hair on his forearms were stiff despite the warm weather. He fidgeted in his chair. Rex looked like he wanted to say something, but just couldn't find the words.

"Take me inside, please," John asked them.

The husband and wife got up from their chairs, and all three of them moved wordlessly towards the front door, the husband leading, then Amanda, followed by John. The three crossed over the bushes in the white gravel pathway, and made their way to the front door.

Amanda opened it up. No need for keys here.

She stood there, holding the door, inviting John inside their split level ranch house. The air conditioning escaped, cool and sharp.

John looked around the neighborhood before he entered. No one was outside, he didn't know why he bothered. Nothing looked out of place. It was just a friend visiting a City police officer and his young wife. What could be more normal than that?

John's eyes focused on something.

"Rex, you've left your drink on your chair in the front lawn."

Rex and John looked at each other for a brief second. Rex looked confused, angry still. Amanda just smiled in the doorway.

"Go get it, Rex."

Rex frowned, and turned around to go get his drink.

John stepped past Amanda, and into the couple's home.

*****************************

When Rex arrived, he found John and his wife in the kitchen. Amanda was pouring John a glass of Hendricks over ice, and then she filled the glass with sparkling tonic water.

"Would you like a lime, John?" she asked.

"I'd love one," he told her, and she pulled a sharp little knife from the drawer, and cut a fresh lime into eight perfect little wedges. She squeezed one into John's drink, and handed it to him. John took it and swirled it around a little in his glass.

Amanda didn't step away. She stood by John, close to him. Closer than one would expect. She stood by John, almost as if waiting.

Rex was clutching his own drink, his ice all melted, his brow furrowed. He was at this point openly glaring at John.

"We don't want you here," he said finally, choked, almost as if he had to force the words out.

John took a deep drink of his gin and tonic, his eyes meeting Rex's, looking deep into them.

"Your wife does," he told Rex. "You, I don't care about. What you want, or don't want, doesn't matter now, and is going to matter even less by the time I leave here tonight."

"Why are you doing this to us?" Rex yelled. Amanda shrunk from the anger in his voice, stepping ever so slightly towards John in her fear.

"Shut up," John hissed, and Rex fell silent. "Shut up and keep your voice down, you fucking asshole. Your wife is trying to enjoy her drink- she doesn't need to hear any of your stupid outbursts. You understand me?"

Rex nodded.

"The reason I'm 'doing this to you'? What difference does it make? I'm doing it, it's happening, and that's really all you need to know. There's nothing you can do to stop me at this point."

John walked out of the kitchen, and to the living room. He knew his way. He'd been here before.

He waved for Rex and Amanda to follow him. They did.

When John got to the living room, he sat down on the couch. The two of them stood, looking at him. Waiting.

"But the reason I'm 'doing this to you', Rex,", John went on, "Is for a couple of reasons. The first is, you are a shit cop. Awful. You never should have been on the force. You shot that kid. You claimed he was attacking you. You dragged the whole City through the shit because you wanted to be a big, bad cop and kill an unarmed black teenager- a kid! - just because you had a gun and he didn't. And then you made up all that nonsense about him attacking you."

John stood up, and walked over to Rex. He looked Rex deep in the eyes. Rex flinched. He looked away.

John reached out a hand, and gripped Rex by the jaw, and turned Rex's face to look back at John, holding him there, looking deeper and deeper into Rex's eyes. Rex tried to look away, and he couldn't.

"Tell us the truth, big bad cop," John said. "Tell me and your wonderful wife the truth, that you never told anyone else. He wasn't attacking you, was he?"

Rex's face drew into a rictus, his body rigid, his hands clenched into fists, mute, powerless fists, useless at his sides. His eyes never left John's, not even to blink. The moment seemed to go on forever.

"No," Rex finally whispered. "He wasn't."

At that John let Rex's face go. Rex pulled his head back with a start, almost as if he was recoiling from a blow.

Behind the two men, Amanda looked down at the floor. On some level, she had always suspected that her husband had been guilty of what the rioters claimed, that Rex had killed an unarmed teenager without provocation. Murdered the kid.

"And that's one of the reasons why I'm 'doing this to you', big bad cop. Because you are a shit cop. You never should have been one, and when I don't need you to be one, you aren't ever going to be one again. You are going to quit. Your days as a police officer are going to be over, forever."

"No!"

"Yes. We'll be correcting the mistake that is you being on the force. I've talked to the people in the precinct that you are supposed to be working to protect. You are a terror to them, a shit, abusive cop and you have been since you got there. That's why I came to you, Officer Sanders- I need information from you, but I'm also going to free your precinct from the embarrassment that is you. They'll be dancing in the streets to think that they won't have to deal with a dirty cop like you anymore."

"What will I do? What will I do for a job? I have to work, I have bills, the house, Amanda..."

"Amanda will be divorcing you, of course," John looked over at Amanda and smiled. She smiled back, nervously. Not wanting to disagree but not quite in agreement. "No way you deserve her. As far as what you'll do, you probably won't do a lot. Work at a gas station. Security at the mall. Somewhere where you can't ever hurt anybody again."

Rex groaned.

"Shut up," John snapped at him. "The other reason I'm 'doing this to you' is your wife. I really just needed you to get me the information I want about the Spider. But I could have made you do that any number of ways. The reason I come here is because of her. The reason I have made you two slaves? Because of her. She's beautiful, no idea why she married you. But she's beautiful and I wanted her and that's that."

Rex looked at the carpet.

"And don't be fooled that you are anything other than my slave, Rex. You still have a shred of fight in you, mainly because I haven't had the time to extinguish it completely like I have your wife. But that ends tonight. You understand me?"

"Please," Rex whispered, eyes fixed on the carpet.

John put his drink down, and pulled Amanda close to him. She stepped lightly into his embrace, and without being asked, or even without any kind of thought at all, put a shy and light kiss on John's lips.

John pulled Amanda down onto the couch. He wrapped his arms around her as she burrowed in. She felt good, tall, slender, athletic. John slid his finger into the elastic waistband of her shorts, circled around her lower belly, over her hip bones.

"There's no 'please', Rex," John answered the cop. "You are going to be my slave, one hundred and ten percent, totally, until I am done with you. There's no turning back."

John slid his finger into Amanda's panties, running his hand over her neatly trimmed hair there. She moaned, and put her mouth on John's neck, kissing him lightly.

"Tell me, Rex. Tell me you understand me."

"I... I understand you."

"You understand what."

"I'm your slave."

"Good boy. I'd say 'that wasn't so hard, was it', like they do in the movies, but I know that it's hard. I know that even now, there's a little core of you that is still fighting being a slave, telling you to fight, to get your gun, to run away or something. Look at me."

Rex looked at John. John slid his finger into Amanda's pussy. She was drenched. She nuzzled in to John's neck, quietly saying yes, oh, yes, as John slid his fingers in and out of her. She spread her legs open, unbidden, giving John unimpeded access to her wetness, not caring that her husband stood only a few feet away.

Rex struggled to look away as John slid in and out of his wife, absentmindedly. He tried hard not to hear her moans of pleasure.

"Here are your choices, Rex. We can keep doing it this way, the hard way, like we've done other times that I've had her in front of you. Where you hurt inside, and try and fight me, but you can't. And then you lay awake at night, dreading me coming here again, taking your wife, making you be powerless watching me. That's the hard way."

Amanda's hips bucked lightly on the couch as she had an orgasm on John's fingers as he ran them lightly over her clitoris, sliding them into her, deep, plunging around her pelvic bone, dragging them back up again.

"I love you," she whispered to him.

John laughed lightly.

"No, you don't," John told her, pulling her head to him, kissing her lips. "You just love being my slave, because I want you to feel that way."

Although John had wondered if there wasn't actually more than that. After all, he could have gotten the information he needed from the corrupt cop a long time ago it he had wanted to. He didn't really need to keep coming out here as much as he had been.

There was something about Amanda...

John pulled his finger out of Amanda's pussy, she sighed a little protest at the sudden emptiness. He slipped his wet finger down a little lower, finding Amanda's little asshole, and John slid his finger in there, just a bit, just a little bit. Amanda's eyes widened, she gasped at his finger at her little hole there.

"Or we can do it the easy way, Rex," John looked at the cop again. "You can like this, just like your wife does. You can love me being your Master, just like she thinks she does when I'm around. All you have to do is ask me. If you ask me, I'll make you love serving me. I'll make you love me fucking your wife. You'll get a hard-on when I fuck her. You'll beg to be allowed to pull on your dick after sucking my cum from her pussy. You'll lick my balls as I slide them in and out of your wife's pussy. All you have to do is, admit you are my slave, and ask me."

"Oh God," Amanda cried, spreading her legs wider as John fingered her little asshole, probing just a little deeper and deeper each time, opening herself as much as possible to give his complete and total access of her.

"You aren't far from that anyway, Rex, are you? There's a part of you that wants to drop to your knees and beg to serve me. Beg me to use you just like you've seen your wife to do me since I started coming here. There's a part of you that cries out to give in to me, to open yourself to me completely, just like your wife is. You hear her moan, and you hear her beg, and you hear her cum, and you want all that for yourself. I know it's in there. I know because I put it there. Just drop down, Rex. Drop down and beg, and you can be free to be my slave like you need to, free to never be free again. That's all you have to do."

Rex couldn't answer. He looked at the carpet again. His hands clenched in fists, unclenched, and clenched again. His breathing was sharp and shallow.

"We'll do it the hard way, then," John said. "You'll crack before the night is over. You can't fight it for much longer. Did you get me what I told you to, slave?"

"Yes," Rex mumbled.

"What?" John demanded, still finger fucking the cop's wife in her ass. She moaned and twitched, raising her hips, trying to slide more of the probing finger into her hidden little hole. It was good to be open for John, she was thinking. All is John's.

"Yes, I got it. I got the lube you wanted."

"I'm going to drag your wife upstairs, and fuck your wife's ass, slave. And I made you get the lube to do it with. If I want, you'll rub it all over my hard cock. If I want, you'll slide it into your wife's ass. If I tell you to, you'll get on your knees and lick and slurp every little drop of me out of her asshole after I'm done using it."

"God," Rex croaked.

In a blink, John leapt up from the couch and crossed over to the cop. They were about the same height, but Rex felt small now, he felt small and insignificant with John standing so close. He couldn't look away from the carpet.

"Look at me," John told him. Rex fought hard not to, he fought as hard as he fought anything in his whole life. But slowly, almost painfully, he looked up, looked up into John's cold and controlling eyes.

Without a word, John slapped the man across the face.

Amanda let out a frightened gasp from the couch. She looked away herself, drawing up into a little ball.

John leaned down, and grabbed the cop's crotch, grabbing Rex's dick through the vinyl of his jogging shorts.

"Just what I thought, Rex," John whispered into Rex's ear as the cop whimpered in pain and shame. "You've got a hard little dick here. I'm making your wife cum like a whore, like a dirty little slut, and you are over here like good little slave boy with a hard little dick the whole time. Aren't you?"

"Yes..."

"Say, 'Yes, Master', Rex. You know that's how it's good to address me. Understand?"

"Yes... Master," Rex whispered, John grabbing his dick hard through his pants. He looked up from the carpet, shyly, meeting John's unblinking gaze.

What's happening to me, he thought. What's happening to us? Maybe I can fight. Maybe I can call someone... if I can just get my head clear. If he wasn't grabbing my dick so hard, maybe I could...

But John was looking Rex in the eyes, shaking his head.

"No," John said, silently. "There's no going back. Just tell me that you want to be my slave, and it all ends, big bad cop. I'll make you enjoy it; I'll make you love to be my slave. I might even let you cum. I know you haven't cum in months. You haven't cum because I haven't permitted it. Right?"

Rex didn't answer. But he didn't have to. It was true. When John first knocked on their door and enslaved- enslaved? - the couple, he had told Rex on the way out that he wasn't to get a hard cock any more, and since then, Rex hadn't been able to attain anything close to an erection. For years, he had made the prostitutes on his beat get in his squad car and suck his cock, threatening them with arrest if they didn't. But for the last couple of months, his cock had lied limp and useless in their mouths, in their hands. He had arrested a few of them at first. Now he just drove past, not meeting their eyes.

John grabbed Rex's dick even harder, causing the cop to let out a pleading, desperate little yelp. John held the poor man's hard little dick like that for a few moments, Rex wondering if he might pass out, and then finally John let his dick go.

Rex sank to his knees, rubbing his dick to alleviate the pain. Somehow his dick was still erect.

"I'm taking your wife upstairs to fuck her ass, Rex," John spoke down to the defeated cop, his words dripping with contempt. "She needs it, right, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Master," Rex heard his wife say from the couch.

Rex shook his head in disbelief. Did she call him Master? When did she start calling him that?

"You have the lube where I told you to put it, slave?"

"It's in the drawer," Rex croaked. "Just where you told me."

John looked down at Rex, shaking his head.

"Master! Master!"

"Good boy," John said, patting Rex on the head.

John took Amanda's hand and pulled her to the stairs, taking her up, into her bedroom. She following willingly, happily, her feet so light on the stairs that she barely felt a step.

******************************

Amanda walked into her bedroom, puling John by the hand. John shut the door quietly after himself.

Amanda turned to face him.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.

"Fuck you," he told her. "Fuck you like you've never been fucked. Fuck you like the slave you are to me. Make you cum like you've never cum before and beg to cum again."

Amanda blushed.

"God," she stammered. She loved how he talked to her about what he was going to do to her, as if he owned her. She had come to love how he controlled her, used her, how he simply said what he wanted and how her body erupted with pleasure at giving that to him. "I mean, I know that. I've been thinking about it ever since you left. Thinking about you fucking me there. I want it so bad... I've been rubbing my pussy every day thinking about you, John."

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