The Intruder

Chapter Two-2

Adele slumped forward, breathless from the invasion and stretching of her body. She didn’t move, even as Claire started searching the kitchen drawers to find a suitable weapon, finally opting for a long plastic spatula. Claire had forced herself on Adele a few times in the past but she had always seemed content with having her p***y sucked and fingered to orgasm. Today she was oozing a kind of manic desire and Adele felt her nerves take hold as she looked around to see the detective spit on the tip of the spatula and rub it against the proffered buttocks. Adele closed her eyes and muttered “Oh God!” as she saw Claire’s face fixed with evil intent as her hand came up, poised to deliver the first blow.

The stinging impact made Adele shriek and jerk forward, the pain hot as it spread across her buttock. There was little respite and another blow landed, on the other cheek this time, causing another mini explosion of fire in the yielding flesh. Adele wanted to put her hands back to protect her poor bum from the attack but the blows prevented it, coming now in quick fury, delivering their sting to each buttock in turn as she wailed in agony.

Her knees were buckling and tears were forming and even escaping down her flushed face and into her open mouth. Her bottom was a burning, quivering mass and the pain built upon it like a giant wave, eventually becoming unbearable and crashing through her body as she screamed out. As the dam burst, suddenly the pain was gone, replaced by a numb glow all over her and a sudden yearning in her soaking p***y. Her bottom was pushing itself out and seeking the blows, while her labia swelled between her thighs, desperate too for any contact, regardless of how cruel. Her ears were filled with her own frantic cries and the sharp slap of plastic against her skin. Through all the sensations she could feel wetness trickling down her thighs, and she had to fight her instincts to put her hands between her legs and masturbate.

When the spanking stopped Adele lay gasping, and a string of saliva ran from her open mouth to the worktop, creating a little pool. She could feel Claire behind her, examining the results with satisfaction. Even as a w***e Adele had never been in such a humiliating position before. Her arse was the same bright red as the underwear protruding from it, and she was totally at the mercy of another woman. Worse still, her p***y was treacherously dripping in obvious excitement and this would only encourage her tormentor.

Claire grabbed a handful of Adele’s hair once more and dragged her back into the lounge, ordering her onto the floor. She stripped quickly, her white panties displaying a large damp patch before they were pulled down and thrown aside. She always liked getting naked, knowing her body was voluptuous and capable of turning people on. She didn’t care that she had a few extra pounds, she loved her curves and the effect they had on the women and men that she f****d. She saw Adele’s gaze shift from her large breasts down to her smooth shaven p***y, and she put her hand between her thighs and rubbed her clit in small circles as the w***e watched intently.

Wheeler stood astride Adele, looking towards her feet, and gently lowered herself until her soft bum cheeks were pressing into the face beneath her. She reached back to part her ample bum and let its weight rest down, feeling a nose against her arsehole and a tongue flicking out to split her labia and push inside her wet p***y. With her hands on her knees and her hips thrust back she started to gyrate and ride Adele’s face, ignoring the w***e’s attempts to lick her, deciding instead to take her pleasure in her own way.

She loved to do this. There was something unutterably filthy about wiping your arse all over another girl’s face, especially when that girl was unable to stop you. She could sometimes feel the shock and panic from below as she splayed her cheeks and smothered them, rubbed her excitement and dirtiness against their features and used them to masturbate against. She was glad the heat today had left her bum sticky with sweat, adding an even greater thrill as she rode Adele, who was still gamely trying to lick and suck her to orgasm.

As she ground her hips back and forth she grabbed hold of Adele’s t**s, this time tweaking and pulling at both n*****s, feeling them pulse in her grip. She let go a gob of spit onto each breast in turn, massaging it into the twin peaks, leaving them slick and glistening. She would have liked to have felt them in her mouth, rolling her tongue around them as she had done on previous occasions, but her need to come was swiftly taking control of her thoughts.

She leant forward now, her bottom coming away from her breathless victim and her cunt hanging invitingly above her lips. She looked down at Adele’s p***y, adorned with a delicate gold ring through the c******l hood and still showing its relative youth, despite being plundered by so many strangers. Claire held the underside of Adele’s thighs and pulled them up, bringing her p***y towards her face, enabling her to bury herself into the slimy flesh with her tongue poking right inside the hot well. She pressed in further, smearing the arousal all over her cheeks, nose and chin, gasping aloud as she felt two fingers being pushed inside her own begging cunt.

She wanted to make Adele come. She wanted her to feel thankful towards her mistress despite the cruelty she was inflicting. She looked up, searching for an object to use and spied a bud vase on the coffee table. It was made of blue glass with slight ridges that spiralled around its long neck. Claire discarded the single long-stemmed flower and reached back, holding the vase over her own bottom. She tipped it on end, allowing the water within to glug down the narrow neck and cascade between her buttocks and onto Adele’s hand that was still busy pumping in and out of Claire’s puss. Reaching forward again, she splayed Adele’s slick lips and pushed the neck of the vase inside, easing it in until the bulbous base was against her labia.

Feeling her own climax approaching, Claire pumped the vase back and forth as quickly as possible, watching the neck cloud with the juices smeared on it. Adele lifted her hips up to meet the frantic action, her cunt squelching as her cream forced its way out around the glass. The w***e was already passed the point of no return and slid a forth finger inside the p***y above her face and f****d it as hard as she could. Their cries of ecstasy merged as together they slid headlong into orgasm, both rubbing their own clits with their free hands to take them over the edge. Yelling profanities, Claire rode and drenched the fingers inside her before collapsing down, the vase still jammed inside Adele’s s*x.

By the time Claire climbed off the sweat had all but dried on her body and she dressed quickly, tidying her dark bobbed hair in a wall mirror. Adele sat smoking, expressionless and mute. Before she left, Claire went over and planted her lips on Adele’s, kissing her deeply and forcing the youngster to respond, despite herself. Breaking off, Claire said cheerily,

“Tell Carlos I need to speak to him.”

She blew the young w***e a sarcastic kiss and exited the flat.

Back at the station Claire spent the afternoon looking at the details of the latest reported burglary. It seemed probable it was linked to the two previous ones in that area. As before, only jewellery was taken, despite several other valuables including a purse containing cards and money being easily accessible. The thief had disengaged an alarm on a gate leading to the rear but this time had apparently been able to walk into the house, the back door being open while the wife was in the garden. She had later found her jewellery box open and items to the value of about ten grand missing. Well over half this total was accounted for by a single distinctive Tahitian black pearl necklace, a wedding day gift from the husband. Forensics had once again failed to find evidence of any kind. It was a very professional job—apart from the fact that the thief had left behind loads of valuables that he could have stolen.

Wheeler found it all very perplexing. There seemed little to connect the victims, apart from location and a tendency not to lock valuables away. Why just jewellery, and why did the thief feel confident he would find any? Surely—although the evidence seemed to disprove it—there was a good chance people of such wealth would have some kind of safe for these items? The latest victims, Stephen and Bethany Chambers, looked squeaky clean and had no obvious connections with the previous victims. There was an appreciable age difference between the couple, (at 43 he was eighteen years her senior) and they had no children. The only thing that struck Claire as being odd about that was that the thief had gone into the house during the day, perhaps seeing a chance while the wife was in the garden. How did he know there would be no one else at home? It was summer holiday time and if the couple had kids there was a good chance they might be in. Did the thief know, or did he just not care?

Claire decided she had to talk to the officers attending, an event she had been trying to avoid as one of them was P.C. Yates, whose ugliness drove her to distraction. Even on a good day he looked like a f****d ostrich and he was sometimes able to combine this with one of the worst cases of halitosis on record. It was more his forwardness she despised. He had this leering way with her, as if they were somehow intimate, or they shared some dodgy secret. He acted like they were best buddies and that at the drop of a hat she would fall willingly into his arms. Ugly people should know their place.

Wheeler knew that she had helped create all this. She had always been flirty and suggestive and lots of the guys at the station fancied her. She had been involved with a couple of them on a short-term basis, and once during a drink-fuelled party she had openly kissed another woman officer, much to the delight of her cheering male comrades. They didn’t know she was bisexual, or that she not only ended up in bed with that girl but still quite regularly slept with her, despite this girlfriend’s subsequent marriage and transfer to another station. They just saw Claire as a party girl or occasional prick-tease and this seemed to encourage her fellow officers to be as familiar with her as they liked. It was as if because she had got off with a couple of them they all now owned her, or at least had shares in her.

Later there were rumours that she was having an affair with the married D.I. Rick Finch, which escalated when she was asked to join C.I.D. The rumours were true of course, but Claire felt she was genuinely deserving of the move, and now spent her days desperately trying to justify her position. Fortunately she was well liked, so backbiting was fairly minimal. Although their relationship had petered out some time ago, Finch still had a soft spot for her and considered her a talented detective. Often he would allow her to run with cases that perhaps a more senior officer would be expected to take. While she appreciated the chance and relished the challenge, it did put pressure on her to succeed with the cases, especially when—like now—there was very little evidence to go on.

Claire bit the bullet and found Face Ache Yates and his partner Gemelli. Through all the innuendo and bad breath she gained little information other than that Bethany Chambers was ‘right f*****g gorgeous’ (Yates), and that she seemed agitated and perhaps was not telling the full story (Gemelli). Claire knew Yates would have given the same commendation to a goat in a blonde wig but the other incite was surely worth checking out. There was something not quite right about this recent spate of burglaries and her suspicion was centred on the wives involved.