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My Inner Dom

Layla Holiday

Copyright © 2017 Layla Holiday

All rights reserved

Chapter One

Elle’s white t-shirt was still on inside out, but the steamy tent sex we had—just an hour before—already felt like a fading, distant memory.

We walked in silence. Elle focused on the track ahead of us, with her lips slightly pursed and her brow slightly furrowed. It was not exactly what I had in mind when planning her birthday weekend. I loathed the tension between us. I needed to say something soothing. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.

I knew it wasn’t just the nightmares upsetting Elle—which started the previous week, after discovering the butchered bathtub-body—it was the fact that I hadn’t, that I wouldn’t, that I couldn’t talk to her.

‘You should have listened to me,’ I wanted to say, ‘back when we first met. I tried to warn you but you didn’t want to hear it.’

‘You with your rose-coloured glasses didn’t want to know about my shameful, depraved past,’ I wanted to tell her like it was her fault this was happening to me. ‘You didn’t want to hear about my debasements, about the tendency I had developed to inflict pain, to ignore safe words, to turn pleasure into torment. You didn’t want to hear about the six months of counselling I’d gone through to get it all under control.’

‘Snap yourself out of it,’ I told myself. ‘It wasn’t Elle’s fault that the bathtub murder had stirred something within me.’

Suddenly, out the corner of my eye, I detected movement in the shrubs. Without thinking, I simultaneously grabbed Elle’s hand, spun on my heel, and, in a crouching position, was glaring suspiciously into the forest.

I spotted the feathered critters and almost laughed at myself. ‘Fuck,’ I thought, ‘this case has got me on edge.’

Elle was crouching beside me, her eyes brimming with concern.

‘Look,’ I said, pointing into the bush, ‘it’s a moot of lyrebirds.’


‘The collective noun for lyrebirds,’ I explained, still pointing at the revelry of rusty-coloured wings, pale-grey underbodies, alert-black eyes and magnificent, harp-like tails. This picturesque scene—imbued in every shade of green—became surreal as two birds gingerly approach one another, and then touched beaks.

‘Moot,’ she said again, staring intently at the birds. ‘I like it.’

‘Remember how much you liked mooting,’ I teased. When she had been studying law, Elle became famous for her mooting abilities.

She didn’t laugh but made a shushing sound, lifting a finger to her lips.

‘In courtship ceremonies, the male will attract a mate by impeccably imitating the songs of up to twenty other bird species,’ she whispered. ‘The original singer is usually convinced and then left confused.’

‘Is that what this is,’ I asked, ‘a mating ceremony?’

‘Yeah, I think so,’ she said. ‘Can you hear that?’

‘It sounds like a camera shutter.’

‘It does. He’s imitating sounds he hears in the forest.’ Just as Elle finished speaking, the male lyrebird started producing a sound identical to our car alarm, which had gone off when we arrived.

We both chuckled. ‘I’ve heard them sing like leaf blowers and chainsaws,’ Elle’s voice was full of fascination and respect and, at once, I intrinsically understood why she loved the place so much. A soft wave of comfort washed over me, I was glad I had the weekend off and had taken Elle out to Protester Falls to celebrate her birthday.

Chapter Two

After lunch, we found a deserted swimming hole. I threw down a rug, a few pillows, and hung a hammock between a couple of muscular branches. We swung from a Tarzan rope and dropped into the depths of the icy, pale blue, water. Despite the fact that it was nearing winter, the days were still sunny and warm. We found a big, round boulder, soaked in afternoon rays, and extended our bodies over its warm surface.

I’d never felt so content. My eyes wandered over my lascivious girlfriend, stretched out beside me. No matter the season, or how little time she spends in the sun, her skin always has that post beachside-holiday glow. Her figure is the definition of perfection: long, thick, dark hair; big, rich-brown eyes; frictionless, golden skin; slight, womanly shoulders; lean, yet toned, long arms; firm, generous breasts with brown, easily titillated, nipples; a back that curves and dips in all the right places; a slender, tight midriff which extends out to her Columbian-inherited hips, and all of this exquisiteness is held up by two chiselled, shapely legs that, seemingly, go on forever.

I felt the urge to pinch myself. I was bewildered that such a passionate, intelligent, fearless, hilarious, stunning creature had fallen in love with me. I didn’t even try to understand. Instead, I reminded myself to remember just how lucky I was.

Elle noticed me, noticing her, and smiled slyly. She rolled onto her side and traced her fingertips down the centre of my abdomen, ‘have you been working out more?’ she asked, biting down on her bottom lip.

Her gaze meandered over my body. The desire in her eyes sent shivers down my spine. She walked her fingertips to the waistband of my bikini bottoms, running her fingers lightly just above the elastic. I shuddered. She suppressed a chuckle and licked her lips. She knew that that particular area, across my abdomen, and hipbones, was my weak spot. I was instantly wet.

Pressing down on my hip, she pushed me onto my back. The boulder was hard and cool on my bare skin, and the soft-dappled sunlight warmed my face, belly, and thighs. My mouth released an involuntary sound of want. Elle dragged her short, manicured nails up and down the inside of my thigh and then cupped my apex in the palm of her hand, pressing down firmly. I suppressed the urge to lift my hips, I didn’t want to rush ahead. I tried to enjoy the sensation of her motionless hand against me, but I wanted her fingers to slide between the fabric and my skin. I wanted her fingers to touch my seeping desire. The pressure yielded and her fingers moved straight to my clit. After pressing down briefly, she stopped teasing and began making slow circular motions, rubbing the wet lycra against my swollen bud.

I choked back the moan rising in my throat, allowing a pant to escape instead. I squirmed against the boulder, my skin scratched open, the pain pushed me toward the edge, the muscles deep between my legs throbbed and clenched.

Elle leaned in and dragged her tongue along my neck, her subtle-musky aroma filled my nostrils and her hair drifted like feathers over my chest.

‘Elle,’ I gasped.

‘Yes, baby,’ she purred.


She acquiesced to my desperation, pulled my swimmers to the side and ran her finger along the full length of my slit, spreading my arousal.

‘God, you’re so fucking wet,’ she growled.

I grunted and tilted my hips. My eyes were squeezed shut, my back was arching off the boulder, and my legs were beginning to contract and flex.

She slid in a finger, just a little, stopping to massage the entrance.

I moaned and lifted my ass off the rock.

Groaning, she pushed in deeper and then slid all the way out again. I arched to meet her fingers. She thrust two fingers inside and I felt myself tighten around her. The rhythm of her fingers was drawn out and slow. I almost lost it. My pussy clenched greedily around her fingers, silently demanding more.

Sitting up, she parted my lips with two fingers and pressed on my clit. Every muscle, in my legs, ass, and back, violently contracted. Thrusting forward, my back lifted higher off the boulder, as her finger vibrated lightly, backward and forward, on my clit.

Sensing how close I was, she slammed her fingers into me.

‘Fuck,’ I moaned. She fucked me with vigour. I felt myself tremble around her fingers. My whole body quivered uncontrollably. A sublime sensation, staring in my chest, rushed down through my limbs. My skin was tingling, as an unbearable surge seized me and I collapsed onto the boulder, unable to open my eyes or move my legs.

Chapter Three

There was only darkness where vision should have been. I couldn’t breathe and a force was pushing down on my skull. I clawed at my face, my hands wrapped around a boot, attached to a leg, pushing me under. I punched and scratched at the leg, but it just exerted more force. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer, I took a sharp breath in, an excruciating pain crushed my chest, water filled my lungs. I was kicking and kicking but couldn’t reach the surface.

My eyes snapped open. My heartbeat pulsed rapidly in my throat. My clothes and the bedding were drenched in sweat. Elle flicked on the bedside light. I hunched forward, my hands cradling my head. It had been me, struggling in the bathtub. I pushed my fingers against my eyelids, feeling the pressure on my eyes. It was a nightmare but the feeling of cold water rushing into my skull, where my eyes had been gauged out, continued.

‘Geez, babe,’ Elle said softly, ‘that’s the second one tonight.’

‘I’m sorry, Elle,’ I said with a sob, unable to contain my emotions.

‘You wanna talk about it?’

‘I’d rather not.’

‘Okay,’ she said, swinging her legs out of bed. ‘Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes and I’ll change the sheets.’

Splashing water over my face, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stared at my tired reflection, as if expecting it to reveal everything, all it revealed was a new collection of grey hairs. ‘You’ll be completely grey at 35,’ I told myself.

In the nightmares, I swung between being the victim and being the perpetrator. I didn’t know which was worse, having the boot push me down, or being the boot forcing the eye-less girl under.

Elle’s face appeared in the mirror. Her lips landed lightly on my shoulder, ‘are you okay,’ she uttered into my skin.

‘Yeah, you know,’ I said, looking away from our reflections in the mirror. ‘It’s just this case, it’s, uh, it’s really getting to me.’

‘I know honey,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s go back to bed, I made you a chamomile.’

‘I might need something stronger, like Xanax,’ I told the reflections in the mirror.

She kissed my shoulder again and interlocked her fingers with mine.

I didn’t want to go back to bed, but was reluctant to let go of her hand. I felt like a lost child as I let her lead me away from the bathroom.

Back in bed, I stared at the ceiling while Elle curled up beside me, nuzzling her face into my neck and brushing her soft lips against my skin. Turning my head toward her, I planted a kiss on her nose.

Elle lightly skimmed her fingertips down the side of my face and then back up, through my hair, letting her fingers get tangled in the curls at the base of my neck.

‘What if I wasn’t cut out to be a copper,’ I uttered, my voice barely audible.

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked, propping herself up on her elbow, ‘because this case is getting under your skin?’

‘It’s more than that, Elle,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s not just getting under my skin, it’s seeping into my blood, infecting my cells,’ I opened my mouth to say more, but nothing came out.

‘What is it, Kat? You can tell me.’

‘I don’t know,’ I stammered. ‘I don’t know how to describe it. This case, the bathtub body, it’s doing something to me … It’s, I mean, I feel it turning me into the sort of person I used to be. The sort of person I loathe,’ I attempted to explain, but it all sounded so ridiculous.

‘Babe,’ she sighed. ‘If this atrocious case wasn’t disturbing you, then, I think, I’d be questioning whether or not you were cut out to be a cop. Only a heartless, sociopath could be unaffected by something like this.’

‘I guess so,’ I agreed. Elle always knew exactly what to say.

Even still, I couldn’t help feeling as though I was falling apart, with Elle following me around, collecting all the little pieces of me and sticking them back together.

Rolling to face her, I pressed my lips to hers. ‘Thanks for putting up with me,’ I mumbled into her warm, tasty mouth.

She delicately ran her tongue over my top lip and leaned into the kiss. My lips parted and she slid her tongue over my top teeth. I sucked her tongue into my mouth, massaging it with my tongue. Falling onto her back, she pulled me on top of her, my thigh instinctively parted her legs to rest gently against her warm crutch. Reaching over, I switched off the light.

Chapter Four

Another girl had been reported missing overnight. We briefed first thing. Snapshots of a sweet-looking, smiling, redheaded teenager, Amber Darting—last seen walking to the beach in Evans Head, the previous afternoon—were followed by photos of the last crime scene, of Evelyn Black’s maimed body, of the blood-stained bathtub.

Evelyn Black, fifteen, a champion of dressage, was kidnaped not 100 kilometres north of Evans Head. She was tortured for days before having her eyes gauged out, being shoved in the bathtub and forced under, until she eventually drowned.

I couldn’t shake last night’s nightmare, the pressure on my skull, the struggle, the terror, the blinded inhalation of bloodied bathwater. I wondered if, despite the fear and pain, once in the bathtub, Evelyn still fought to live. Her body had been so mangled, forensics were having a difficult time piecing it all together. They had scraped so much skin from beneath her nails, it was evident she fought for her life multiple times, but it was hard to determine the exact timeframe.

Stone was describing the lead they followed over the weekend. They’d managed to pull together some scanty evidence, all pointing to a well-known delinquent from Coraki, Dean Childs: twenty-three; 180 centimetres; full head of shaggy-blonde hair; acne-scarred forehead; wide-flat nose with flared nostrils; narrow cheekbones; large, flat ears; full lips with slightly upturned corners; square chin; wiry frame; spiderweb neck tattoo; and, in my opinion, a suspicion of wickedness in his slanted, heavily lashed, bloodshot-blue eyes.

‘Childs spent the majority of his adolescence in juvie,’ Stone explained, her hair was pulled back in a messy, nest-like, blonde bun. Her snug-fitting deep-burgundy shirt, with its classic collar and snazzy seams on the back and front, was tucked into the waistline of a pair of full-length, slim straight-leg black pants. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up to three-quarter length and her top button had come undone, leaving the neckline gaping open to reveal her smooth, ultra-deep cleavage.

Gulping at her coffee, she continued describing Childs, ‘he has been behind bars four times in the past five years, most recently for indecent aggravated assault. Early last month, he was released from Grafton prison,’ she rattled off the details with crisp rhythm. ‘Multiple sightings yesterday afternoon in West Ballina, purchasing yards of rope, raw iron shafts, a bridle, a quick-grip mini clamp set, pliers, bolt cutters, straps, and buckles. We have reason to believe he is occupying an abandoned shack in Swan Bay, out the back of Woodburn.’

Several Swan Bay locations were pulled up on Google Maps. Stone went over the operation timeline. She revealed tactical, and contingency, plans and delivered a thorough risk assessment followed by a brief communication protocol.

Everyone was restlessly shifting in their seats, itching to move, itching to catch the fucker.

The lights came on and quiet chatter filled the room.

‘Farrugia has an uncle out Coraki way,’ I remembered, wondering if Farrugia had any local knowledge of the back roads around Swan Bay.

I scanned the room but Farrugia was nowhere to be seen.

My eyes met Stone’s. She was gathering up the notes in front of her. ‘Kody, you’re with me today.’

‘Right,’ I responded, unable to disguise the suspicion in my voice.

Turning on her heel, she stalked out of the room.

‘Geez,’ Davies remarked, raising a bushy eyebrow in my direction. ‘What did ya do this time, Kody?’

‘Don’t be jealous Davies,’ I replied with a forced laugh. ‘Hey, have you seen Farrugia around today?’

‘Nah, ten-second-Tom! He’s up in Brisbane testifying on that DV case.’

‘Shit. That’s right.’

‘Fuck Kody, I know your missus is smoking but you need to get yourself more sleep!’

‘Davies.’ My voice was level, but my glare was full of warning.

‘Just saying is all,’ he responded, throwing up his hands and shrugging his shoulders. ‘Glad, I’m not riding with your sleepy ass today!’

Looking past me, he dropped his hands.

‘Let’s go Kody.’ It was Stone. She was behind me. How long had she been there? How much did she hear?

Davies winked in my direction as I followed Stone out of the room.

Chapter Five

It was 11pm, I’d been poring over CTV footage for 6 hours and was none the wiser. I had re-watched the shots of Childs in West Ballina so many times that, I was sure, I could pick him from a mile away. I couldn’t believe we had wasted all day, scouring the scrub around Swan Bay, and still knew less than we did that morning. If it was even Childs’ who has Amber.

‘Fuck,’ I hissed into my cold coffee. What if we’re chasing the wrong person? I ask myself. What if we’ve taken a bum steer? I banged down my coffee and roughly ran my fingers through my hair.

We had raided several shacks that day and found sweet fuck all. We started early, finished late and were no closer to finding Amber. Again, I heard her parents’ desperate pleas on the national news, blaring in the tea room, I couldn’t bring myself to look at the screen. The previous weekend, camping at Protester Falls, already felt like a lifetime ago. I was exhausted. I needed a feed, a shower, and bed.

It had been a fucking shit of a day, but working with Stone had been better than I expected. She was systematic, calm, and prepared. I caught myself thinking of a few passing comments she made. ‘There’s a good girl,’ she uttered at least twice that day.

Her words were so quiet, I was surprised that I had heard them at all. It was her tone that made something deep within me stir, that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. ‘No,’ I thought. ‘I must be misinterpreting her.’

There was a flutter in my groin and I was dragging my top teeth over my bottom lip. I’d never physically cheated on Elle and, over those past five years, I had curbed my bad habit of letting fantasy take over when it came to powerful, attractive women.

A fleeting image, of slapping Stone across the face, raced across my mind. A carnivorous heat rose within me. I pictured straddling her, pinning her arms down with my knees, and letting her squirm beneath me. Overpowering me, Stone suddenly had me pinned. I struggled beneath her. She was stronger than she looked.

‘I’m calling it a night.’ Stone’s voice snapped me back into reality. ‘You okay Kody?’ she asked, lowering her voice. ‘You’re looking a little flushed,’ she added languidly before sauntering away.

Chapter Six

I would make Stone my submissive pet. I would inflict all forms of torturous pleasure on her, nasty things that I could never imagine doing to Elle. Such desires were muzzled when I was with Elle. She softened me, I only wanted to make her orgasm with delicate ecstasy. I only ever wanted to use tantalising silks to restrain Elle, only wanted to sweep my lips over her flawless form in continuous series of soft kisses, slowly luring her toward an overwhelming, and intimate, orgasm. I enjoyed nipping at her but would never bite down to draw blood, like I would have with Stone. I would have cuffed Stone to the headboard and tied her legs, with abrasive rope, to the frame. I would have chomped viciously at her thighs and then lapped up her tangy blood with the tip of my tongue.

I would have taken a riding crop (not the flimsy type you buy in a sex shop, but more like the type you find at Horseland) to her femininely muscular ass, gloating as her piquant flesh rose in warm, pink streaks. I would have punished her until she delectably quivered and was thrown over the edge into a crashing, violent climax that left her breathless, speechless, and gloriously incapacitated.

After she recovered, I would have dabbed ice on her welts and applied healing ointment to the area. I would have brushed her sunshine-blonde hair and pulled it back into a high ponytail. I would have offered her fresh pyjamas, smelling of frangipani-scented fabric softener. I would have made her hot chocolate and let her sleep, curled up, at the foot of my bed. The next morning, I would have cooked her crapes and congratulated myself while she sat there, naked, licking maple syrup from her fingers.

I shook myself out of it, dismayed at how easy it was to fall back into old thought patterns. In the beginning, five years before, I had tried to convince Elle that she shouldn’t get attached, that I wasn’t the right person for her. In some ways, it was true. I had just turned 25 and had never had a normal relationship. I was in total denial until I was 22 but, although I’d never had a girlfriend, I’d also never had a boyfriend. I would get plastered at parties, clubs, and pubs and wake up the next morning in an unfamiliar room, with a dark taste in my mouth and an unfamiliar discomfort between my legs. But then I met Olivia.

Although it had been almost nine years, I could still clearly recall my first impression of Olivia.

‘Push through the pain,’ I instructed. ‘Just ten more seconds. You’ve got this,’ I told the woman quivering in front of me. I noticed beads of sweat, forming at the base of her taut neck, rolling away toward her lightly tanned shoulders. ‘Okay, and, release.’

She groaned and collapsed onto her yoga mat.

‘Two twenty,’ I announced. ‘Solid effort, uh, um, sorry,’ I trailed off.

‘Olivia,’ she grunted, face still planted on the floor. ‘My name’s Olivia.’

‘Sorry, I’m no good with names,’ I lied. ‘Are you sure you need a personal trainer?’

It was the third year of my physical education degree and the local nursery, where I had been employed, had shut down. So, I’d started working as a personal trainer, offering university staff discounted rates.

Olivia pushed her torso off the ground and pounced to her feet. I couldn’t hide how impressed I was by her. She was not even a decade older than me and had almost completed her PhD in linguistics and, there was no other way to put it, she was fit as fuck.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t need a personal trainer,’ she paused and let her eyes crawl up and down my body.

I remember shuffling my feet and feeling heat rush to my cheeks, the way she gazed at me, hungry like, well, I’d never felt so uncomfortable and thrilled at the same time. I tried to look away but couldn’t take my eyes off the flushed, glistening skin exposed at the top of her tank top.

‘I just enjoy having girls, with wild curls, watch me workout,’ she stated before spinning around, and striding away. ‘See you on Tuesday, Little Kitty,’ she called back over her shoulder.

‘Little Kitty?’ I repeated the words out loud, wondering where the hell the nickname had come from.

Chapter Seven

Olivia had perfect eyebrows, which made her appear perpetually, slightly amused, as if she was always privy to some secret joke. Her wide-set caramel-umber eyes had a way of growing on you, so much so, that you’d soon believe they were the most brilliant eyes you’d ever seen. Her cute, upturned nose curved down to join the cupid’s bow of her top lip. Her lips pulled her awkward-shaped face into proportion, they even curled up at the edges. At first glance, you’d call Olivia's a friendly face. But she was anything other than friendly in the bedroom.

She flung me into the deep end of BDSM, introducing me to Sydney’s fetish community and sharing me with other, less diligent doms (I suppose, in a way, that made Olivia less-than assiduous too). I didn’t mind being tied down and pleasured, but I couldn’t get off on the burning sensation of being spanked or whipped. I never became an adept submissive and, because of this, Olivia never collared me or, thankfully, never traded me in.

‘Listen, Little Kitty, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,’ Olivia told me, sweeping a few curls from my face. ‘I love being with you, but … it’s just, uh, I don’t feel that your heart’s in it.’

I remember the feeling of my gut being wrenched through my throat. I went to speak but couldn’t form words, I was crazy about Olivia and she was breaking up with me. We’d been together for six months and I had finally accepted myself, my sexuality. But now this, she didn’t want me? There was a stabbing pain in my chest.

She held my face firmly and kissed me softly, ‘I want you to be happy,’ she uttered. ‘True and content,’ she added, kissing me again.

‘I want you to meet somebody,’ she said, still holding my face. ‘You’re not a bottom Kat,’ she said with authority. ‘I want you to meet Emily and I want you to let me teach you everything I know about being a top.’


‘Emily is a well-trained, patient submissive,’ Olivia explained.

Six-months older than me, Emily was plump with a love-heart shaped face, a long forehead, strawberry-blonde hair, a button nose, rose-coloured lips, and puppy-dog greyish-blue eyes with lazy eyelids, and long, dark lashes. Attractive enough, but not my type.

‘With new submissives,’ Olivia instructed, ‘always remain unassuming. It’s not just about strength and control. Discretion, awareness and sensitivity are fundamental within dominance.’

Emily and I were fond of each other, but I never believed either of us developed deeper feelings than fondness. I suppose, in hindsight, it was the perfect arrangement for me to learn the ropes, without emotion, without excessive desire, with Olivia at my side but without drama.

It wasn’t long before—in Olivia’s absence—my true colours began to shine through.

‘Wait here,’ I told Emily. My voice was quiet, but my tone demanded she obey.

I took my time before re-entering the bedroom with the cuffs and the gag. Emily didn’t like being left alone and her cheeks were wet when I returned. I knew Olivia would insist I comfort Emily and wipe away her tears, but, instead, I looked away. ‘There’s a good girl,’ I uttered as I seized her wrist.

Emily liked being chained, gagged, and spanked before being fucked senseless, but she hated, more than anything, to be left by herself.

After she was cuffed to the bed and gagged, I switched off the light, closed the door, and went downstairs. I’d never admitted it to Olivia, but Emily’s eager desire, to serve and satisfy, stirred a sense of disgust and shame within me. Although she didn’t want to be left alone, I knew she wouldn’t challenge me. And, for this, I punished her.

I waited forty-five minutes before going back upstairs. I flicked on a lamp and stood by the side of the bed, observing how Emily’s eyes could simultaneously fret and plea. Her tear-stained face seemed so pathetic.

I climbed onto the bed and straddled her stomach, releasing one cuff from the bedframe and flipping her over, onto her stomach. I worked my way down the bed and, hovering above her, began warming her ass with rhythmic spanking.

I spread her cheeks, lubricated my fingers with Emily’s desire and worked the juices around her anus. I coated the dildo with Pjur lube and pushed the tip against her ass. She raised her hips into the air and tried to speak through the gag. ‘Keep quiet,’ I ordered. ‘You’ll come when I say so.’

I slid the cock in a bit further and her body winced away from me. I gripped her hips firmly, withdrawing slightly but not fully. I waited, and when she tilted her hips up again, I slid deep into her. She began rocking, sliding backward and forward along the strap-on, I found a groove in her rhythm and began fucking, and spanking, her in time with her movements. The sound of slapping and wet clicking filled the room.

‘Now,’ I barked as I slammed into her. She began writhing, and making smothered moaning sounds. Reaching around her hips, I pinched her clit firmly between two fingers, and drove the cock into her with more force. There was a cacophony of stifled moans and shuddering as her body dropped to the bed.

I dismounted, unclicked and slid out of the strap-on. Emily rolled onto her back, her free hand touching the gag, and her eyes begging me to release her.

I ungagged her and freed her other hand. I sat on the edge of the bed with my legs parted. Emily didn’t turn me on, but the sex always left me somewhat aroused, at least wet enough, for Emily to get me off, fairly quickly, by massaging my clit with her tongue or a finger. She had no interest in penetrating me and I had no desire to let her.

She climbed off the bed and crawled between my legs. She knew exactly how I liked it and didn’t waste any time. With the pointed tip of her tongue, she began gently licking my clit before sucking it into her mouth and flicking it harder with her tongue. I yanked a fistful of her hair and pushed her face harder into my pussy. The scraping of her teeth, over my swollen clit, pushed me over the edge, my hips shuddered against her face.

‘You always leave me wanting more,’ Emily uttered, looking up at me from where she knelt, between my parted thighs.

A shadow of achievement had entered my mind. Olivia had said that a skilful dom will always leave the bottom pining for more. But I wasn’t satisfied. Emily wasn’t right for me. I wanted Olivia, I wanted to dominate her body and her mind. I wanted her to disobey me so that I could chasten her.

Chapter Eight

We arrived back at the station after midnight. I grabbed my phone to text Elle. ‘Hey babe, just finishing up now. Hope I don’t wake you. Been another long day. Should be home in an hour or so.’

It had been four days since Amber was reported missing. Everyone was on edge, it felt as though we’d spent four days running around the Northern Rivers like headless chooks, scratching around for leads. We were starting to look like a bunch of boorish country cops, it was embarrassing.

I made the shower scoldingly hot and scrubbed my entire body, the bottom of my feet, between my toes. I shampooed with intensity. I needed to wash the day away. I needed to leave everything here and not take work home again to Elle. The nightmares were worrying her. That morning, when she asked me again what’s going on, I snapped. Of course, we both knew, it wasn’t just me, everybody was distressed by the fact that we were no closer to finding Amber. But that was no reason to take it out on Elle. I knew then that being a copper was changing me and that there was nothing I could do to stop it. I’d noticed how being a cop had hardened Stone, she was cold and intense, but in a terribly sexy way.

I thought of the last time I showered alone in the locker room. I had made myself come so hard the back of my legs ached for two days. There is something hot about getting yourself off with the risk of being busted by your colleagues. I let my finger rest on my clit and pressed down ever so slightly. Instantly, I thought of detective Anna Stone, those hazelnut eyes, that firm, penetrating expression, those strong, elegant legs. I leant against my finger and let it slide down, pressing into my wetness.

My eyes sprang open at the sound of a polite ‘ahem’. Too embarrassed to look back, I reached for the conditioner. The shower behind me spluttered on. The building plans for the new station had private cubicles, rather than the open shower design.

‘You did good today Kody.’

‘Jesus, it’s Stone,’ I thought. ‘She’s always sneaking up on me. How long has she been there?’

She was standing behind me, waiting for the water to heat up. I could have died.

‘Uh, yeah, Thanks.’ What was it about her that made me stutter? ‘It was a rough day, I was glad to ride with you again.’

‘I don’t want to go home,’ she said. ‘But fifteen hours is my limit. After that, I become as useful as tits on a bull.’

‘A what?’ I laughed, still facing the tiles. Her arm suddenly reached over my left shoulder. I froze. Her nipple grazed against my back. All my blood rushed south and my knees buckled a little.

‘Can I use some of this,’ she asked, clutching the Tigi Bedhead shampoo.

‘Uh, yep. Sure.’ I said in a patchy, uneven voice as she took the shampoo.

I conditioned for a long time. I was stalling. I could have been out, dried, dressed and exiting the building by then but, instead, I was standing there giving the conditioner ample time to work before rinsing. Leave, I told myself. But then she was behind me again. Same deal, her arm reached over my shoulder, the brush of her nipples and then the light press against my back. I felt her breath on my neck. Shivers of desire crashed through my body and the inside of my thighs were slick with arousal. She put the shampoo back.

‘Conditioner?’ she murmured quietly.

I opened my mouth and an unintelligible-growl escaped.

She planted both hands on the tiles in front of me and breathed heavily on my neck. Every cell in my body stood to attention. ‘I, uh, I have a girl, uh,’ I stammered awkwardly. I had no control. I dipped into her and her tits flattened between us. She ground herself against my ass, firm and slow. Instantly, a hot tingling raked up the back of my legs and along my spine. My legs couldn’t hold me up for much longer. She thrust a knee between my thighs and I melted into her. My hands found her hips and pulled her into me.

She forced me against the wall and pushed my hips down against her muscular leg. Gripping me firmly, she glided her thigh up and down between my crutch. I felt the silkiness of my longing smear against her skin. I reached back and drew my fingers up the back of her legs and over her firm ass. My head dropped back onto her shoulder and I grabbed the back of her neck. When her teeth grazed my neck, my knees almost gave away.

Panting with desperation, I pressed my ass against her centre.

‘Conditioner,’ she said, her voice rasping in her throat. Then suddenly, she pushed back off the wall. I stumbled backward, almost falling, at the abrupt loss of contact.

Words evaded me. My hands slid up my backside, locating the unmistakable texture of her arousal, smeared where she had just been grinding. I rubbed her wetness between my fingers as evidence that it had really happened. I was throbbing with desire, I wanted it, I wanted the guilty, regrettable sex. I wanted to fuck her within an inch of her life.

I spun to face her. She was standing there, nonchalantly naked, with her hand held out expectantly. I lunged forward. ‘Woah,’ she called out and sidestepped me, as if shocked at the advance. ‘I would just like some conditioner officer Kody, if you don’t mind?’ Her face had deadpanned, and she raised a curious eyebrow.

‘What just happened?’ I asked, blinking with confusion.

‘What exactly are you referring to officer Kody?’ she asked interrogatingly. ‘Look,’ she added, changing her tone, ‘this case has been getting the better of everyone, but we’ve noticed that you’ve been particularly shaken. I won’t mention this little outburst to anyone and you’ll ride with me again tomorrow.’

What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On. I asked myself. My head was spinning with her words. We’ve Noticed? ‘who are the ‘we’ that she speaks of? And is she babysitting me now? Did she not just grind her pussy on my ass?’ All these thoughts were racing through my mind. A band of anxiety gripped, and thickened, at my ribcage.

I was dumbfounded. She turned her back to me and commenced massaging the conditioner into her blonde head of hair. I fought the urge to swing her back around and slap her across the face. Sudsy water, slick with conditioner, travelled down her strong, tanned back. I watched a few drips roll over her perky bum and disappear between her legs.

I turned off the tap without rinsing the conditioner from my hair, wrapped my towel tightly around my body, and suddenly felt small and vulnerable. Instinctively, I wanted to race home and hash it out with Elle, she would have known exactly what to do next, exactly how to navigate this situation.

My heart beat in my throat, did I just cheat on Elle? Technically, nothing had happened, but not because I didn’t want it to. I wanted it to happen, I wanted it badly. What’s wrong with me? How could I shelve my morals like that, just at the prospect of a quick fuck? My head felt hot, my cheeks were burning I was nauseous with a new-found loathing of detective Stone.

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