RANCHER'S WIFE - CHAPTER FOUR: free porn video

CHAPTER FOUR:

Communication pretty much ended at that point. His hand moved to my breast and fondled it as he sought out my mouth with his. As our cheeks touched in our passion, I felt the prickling of his whiskers, which became distinct within days if he didn’t shave, and it was another part of him that yelled rugged and manly. But, like now, the person inside was sometimes different, softer, and yielding. The seeming contradiction experienced simultaneously was in itself tremendously arousing, and the best part was that he didn’t seem to know it. Between what was in my head and what I felt on my lips, I was moaning into his mouth. And then there was the apparent answer to my written question through the physical expression of his hands and lips. He broke the kiss, shifted his weight and legs underneath him, and stood up. From a sitting position with me in his lap, he stood up. Neither of us is any longer young, but he is sooooo strong and confident in his abilities, at least his physical abilities. I hung onto his neck as he securely held me in his arms and I kissed his neck repeatedly. He stopped and I raised my head to see why.

He dipped me to the kerosene lamp, I smiled at the understanding of his intention, yet secure in his arms, and I turned the lamp off. The room, and house in fact, instantly was black; but he maneuvered the room with the confidence of someone used to navigating these darkened rooms over several years. He walked past the guest room I had been using and went directly to his bedroom. He set me onto the floor, moved to the lamp next to the bed, and turned it on, but very low. Returning to me, he unfastened the dress, released the little belt, and pushed it off my shoulders. With that, I was naked before him. He looked into my eyes and then down my body, his hands moving where his eyes went, from my arms up to my shoulders to my face, then down to my breasts, to my sides and hips and coming together from both sides to the space between my legs. I gasped with each new spot touched. I felt as if virginal on my wedding night with a new husband discovering me for the very first time after long and anxious anticipation.

My head nearly swooned. The entire time I have known this man, he has been kind, caring, watchful, and protective. He took me in under his protection, mysteriously at first, until I discovered the link he felt that existed between us. With supreme tolerance and patience, he led me out of my fears and timidity, away from my impulse to only please and yield, and to give me security in expressing my needs, desires, wants, and feelings. Even in this most recent of choices: do I leave and live a new life on my own; or do I stay and live a new life supported and shared. Even in this choice, he refused to manipulate me, to influence me in any way. All that despite apparently having a strong preference of his own.

He encouraged me onto the bed as he pulled the covers down. When my head was on the pillows, he moved to the side of the bed and quickly stripped, then stopping to survey my body. Even in the low light, I could see the tenderness along with the desire and anticipation. Of course, my own eyes weren’t static either, his desire and anticipation was evident in more than his eyes. We have loved before, sometimes wildly, sometimes quietly, sometimes outside in nature like the first time out on the rock in the lake. This intensity, the mood, the feeling were completely different from any of those times before. Tonight, there wasn’t a question as he passed the guest room, yet there wasn’t a sense of domination or taking away my choice, there was only a sense that the choice had been mutually decided and agreed upon through our written notes. When he brought me to his room, to his bed, it seemed, felt to me, light-years from being taken to his bed for sex; it was far from even being taken to his bed to share the night; this was every bit like being offered his bed as my own, a place that we will share, a place that I will only know comfort, security, and peace.

As I said, my head nearly swooned.

He wasn’t done, either. He crawled onto the bed and approached me. He bent each knee, kissed it, and then splayed it out to the side. When he was done, he was kneeling between my wide open thighs. He looked up at my face, pulling his gaze from my obscenely exposed pussy, and just as he looked up, my hands found their own way to my breasts as I waited for him to approach further and love me with his body. But he didn’t. Instead, he lay down between my thighs, his face at their junction, I could see his nostrils flare as my scent came up to him, his eyes half closed and he breathed in deeply. When he opened his eyes fully, he smiled at me. Then, he kissed my lips, then the skin between my thighs and my lips on either side, my clitoris hood, and back to my lips. This time, though, his tongue came out, just a little, but enough to gently part my lips, not enough to penetrate, but to barely part them. He crawled up and kissed his way up my stomach, to each breast and nipple, and finally to my neck, ears, and cheeks before settling onto my mouth.

He pulled up slightly, enough for us to breath, and speak. “I love you taster, Cat. I love your scent. I love the feel of your lips.” He kissed me, again. “I love these lips, too.” It made me giggle at the tease. I felt like a girl underneath him, a girl experiencing these wonders, loving the attention from a loving man.

I put my arms around him and mashed my lips onto his, probing with my tongue onto his. I pulled slightly apart, searching his eyes that were tender and soft, soft eyes in such a hard man. My eyes turned into a smile as I licked my lips and he noticed and watched me. “Mmmmmm … yes, I agree.” He looked puzzled. “I do taste good.” We both laughed and that sent him back down my body, kisses left along the way, to my open pussy.

He licked, sucked, tongued, and probed me with tongue and fingers. He played with my clit, flicking it, sucking on it with his lips, and taking it between his teeth and gently nipping and pulling on it. He did the same to my lips, outside and inside. I just knew I had to be in heaven now, I thought it was perfect before, but a man spending this much time on me, to please me … oh my god, has this ever happened to me?

I reached down and put my fingers into his longish hair, pressing his mouth into me, my hips rising to increase the pressure even more. I moaned out my pleasure. I was sooo close, but … but I wanted him inside me when I came, I wanted to cum around his cock. I pulled on his head, he looked up at me, my eyes pleading with him and my voice followed, “Please, Mitch, please, I want you, I need you, now.”

He kissed his way up to me, but was much faster this time. When his head reached mine, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me, engulfing his mouth with mine, moaning into his mouth as we kissed. He pulled apart just enough to guide himself to my opening and he pressed in only inches, waiting there with just the head inside. He was supported above me on his arm. I looked down between us and saw his hard cock connecting the distance between our bodies. I looked up at him; my mouth was slightly open, breathing through it in anticipation of more penetration. He inched a little more, reached down with his head, and kissed each nipple.

“I love your nipples, Cat.”

“Even though they are marked permanently?” I absently moved my hands to him and fingered his nipples. He smiled and inched in a little more. I gasped. “I take that to be a ‘yes’.” We laughed into each other’s mouths as he drove fully into me and I cried out in joy and pleasure to have him fully and completely inside. I held him tightly, then moved a hand to his head, stoking it and his hair, the other caressing his back down to the small of his back, feeling him flexing as his hips moved to smoothly drive his cock into me and nearly all the way out before returning after a momentary hesitation at both the deepest and shallowest part of his stroke. It was slow, intimate, and intensely loving. With my face alongside his head, pressed into his shoulder, I gasped again as he pressed in for extra depth and I took in his own scent. Mmmm, yes, I know that smell, already. His smell, what I enjoy about still wearing one of his tee-shirts, to feel it on me and smell him close even when he isn’t.

We love for a long time, longer than I think I have ever been with one man at a given time. And, it was the most intense sensation, emotionally and physically, that I have ever experienced.

The next morning, I awaken to sunlight. And no Mitch next to me. Not too surprising, if the sun is shining in over the mountain, it isn’t early. And, I have learned that Mitch is an early riser. There is always plenty to do around the place and the shortening days make it more important to use the available time. I get out of bed and stand, stretching with my arms above my head. I see him. He is standing at the end of the dock in shorts and a tee-shirt. Blackie is sitting next to him and they both seem lost in gazing across the lake. There is a mug on the dock next to him, probably empty by now. I open one of the dresser drawers, pull out a tee-shirt of his, and smile. It’s the Release the b**st one he was wearing on that fateful day.

In the kitchen, I grab a mug and fill it. The pot looks like he couldn’t have had more than one mug this morning so I fill another. I have to put one mug down to open the sliding door, then again to close it. It is awkward, but I manage to accomplish it without soaking myself in hot coffee. As I turn, I see Blackie has heard me and is loping to me, his tail wagging faster than his feet are carrying him. I greet him happily but my hands are full. He follows alongside me until we reach Mitch.

“I thought you might need more coffee …” as I hand him the second mug. Then, one hand now freed, Blackie is more insistent. I crouch down and pet, scratch, and stroke him before standing next to Mitch. I shiver and lean into his side, my arms pressed tightly to my sides, “Note to self: just because Mitch seems comfortable in shorts and tee-shirt does not mean I will be.”

He is laughing but at the same time puts his left arm around my shoulder and guides me in front of him and wraps me in his arm, the other holding his coffee. “I guess I have acclimated. Is this better?”

I press back against him and wiggle my back and butt as if I am trying to somehow get in even closer, and crane my head to the side and up to look at him, “This is always better.” He kisses the top of my head. We both finish our coffee in silence, each in our own thoughts and gazing at whatever across the lake and up the mountainside. Mitch takes my mug with his and sets both on the dock surface. As he straightens back up, he uses both arms around me, pulling up against my breasts. I wrap my own arms around his and add my own squeezing to what he is already applying. “Mitch … our conversation last night … do we need to revisit that I want to stay here with you? Do you feel being pressured?”

He turned me around in his arms and did that thing, again. He put his finger under my chin and raised it so we were looking at each other. I love that thing he does, it feels so gentle, intimate, and tender. “Cat, as I recall the events correctly, it was I who first indicated that I wanted you to stay, not just here at the house, but stay with me. I meant that much more personally, I thought you understood that.”

I smiled at him and allowed my head to relax against his chest. “I did, I do understand that difference. I … just wanted …” but I stopped. I pulled my head back and looked up at him, “Mitch, I love you. I wrote it yesterday, I needed to verbalize it, too.”

He smiled; he slipped his hands to my waist and lifted me off the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips. “Catherine, Cat, I love you. Nothing has or will change. I want you with me; I think I need you with me.” We started kissing and he turned on the dock and started walking toward the house.

I laughed, “Mitch, put me down. You can’t carry me that far.”

“Oh, yes, I can. Besides, I like holding you, one hand on your bare butt.”

“Well, don’t, we need the mugs? Besides, you’ll get me all horny, again.”

“I fail to see the downside here.” I was blushing, again, and we were both chuckling, but he did put me down. I went back for the mugs and bent over with my back to him, I did it straight legged, sure that I was showing a lot of leg, maybe part of my butt, too. He was waiting for me and as I passed him on the dock, he grabbed for my ass causing me to shriek and he chased me all the way to the house, his laughing mixed in with my shrieks as he touched my ass, frequently being exposed as the bottom of the shirt bounced from my running.

I offered to make a breakfast and he went into his office. As I was putting things on the table, I could hear him talking. I went to the doorway to tell him it was ready and I heard him telling someone he would let him know if he was needed and that it would be very soon.

Breakfast was quiet and I found myself trying to fill the void, but I told myself to stop. I also told myself to just ask why he had become so quiet. So I did. “Mitch, is something wrong? You’ve become so quiet.”

He put his fork down and leaned back, looking only at the plate of half-eaten food he’d just abandoned. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on the table pushing the plate in front of him, and then turned to look directly at me, which caused me to pause. “This isn’t right!” I got nervous. What isn’t right? We’re not right? Has he changed so fast? “You deserve some form of closure on this and they can’t give it to you.”

I waited a moment. He was clearly agitated and before I confronted him with an argument, I wanted to give him a moment. “Did you get closure, Mitch? When it happened to you?”

“Yes! I killed them.”

“Oh … that’s right. Well, you killed mine, too.”

“Not all of them. Not the head of the snake.” He took several deep cleansing breaths, they seemed to help. “Cat, I don’t mean to go in and kill more people. What happened in the forest was their decision because I wasn’t leaving you there. I told them that.” He was shaking his head, he got up and went to the window and looked out at the lake. For several moments he just stood there, but I could see the tension coming out of his body. He sat back down and took his plate for another forkful. Then, he started over, “Cat, I’m sorry. The down-side of our relationship, the only one, is that I take you very personally now. I might sometimes become over-protective, I don’t mean it as a negative to how I feel about your abilities.” He reached out to take my hand. “What I meant was that there should be some kind of justice closure.”

“I thought Baxter was clear that they weren’t able to get that evidence to move in that particular direction.”

Mitch smiled and leaned onto the table, again. “He was very clear that THEY couldn’t get the information, that they weren’t able to get a search warrant signed. But, he was also very clear about what he did need but that none of the law enforcement agencies would be able to do it.”

“You mean he was asking you to do it? He needed it to be done outside the agency?”

He smiled, again. “No, he couldn’t ask. No, he was just making conversation … over explaining the reasons. Even in his own office he can’t know who might be listening. He would be likely breaking the law if he went outside law enforcement. He even mentioned what gang might be interested in that residential area.”

“Why would that be important?”

“Because, if a gang hit the house in a residential area because of a perceived conflict over d**g and/or prostitution control in the area, numerous enforcement groups would be interested and have justified entry if there was conflict there.”

“He was telling you how they could gain access for search … without asking you to do it.” I looked up at him, now scared. “All because he knows what you did before?”

“He only has his guesses, Cat. He wouldn’t have the clearances to KNOW what I did. He only knows that my history has some interesting gaps if you look closely.” He was still holding my hand. “So, my question to you, do you want some retribution? And, if so, do you want to participate?”

“Are you serious? Wait! Yes and yes. Before you can change your mind.” We both laugh, but laced with tension, this time.

“Okay, come on, there is more you need to learn about me and what we need to do.”

“The two of us are doing this?”

“No, I’ll bring someone else in, too. I trust him completely. But, you need serious training because I am going to have to rely on you to protect my back as well as protect yourself.” He pulled me along behind him, outside and across the yard to the work building that was the garage for his two trucks (the work one and a new one for going nice places), ATV and yard tractors. It was also his work shop and I found an elaborate gym setup. He admitted that he has sloughed off on that since I arrived, but that was going to change. He asked if I saw anything unusual compared to the appearance of the building on the outside. I didn’t. He walked me to the far end and put his hand on a light switch there. He flipped it and nothing happened. I looked around and there was one light that was still out. He called that a decoy, it never did go on. He pressed something underneath and the switch box opened. He closed it, again, and showed me how to press the proper location. Then he gave me the code, “3 – 1 – 2 – 0”. The wall section next to it cracked open. It had looked solid.

“If you ever have trouble remembering the four digit code, just think ‘CAT’. The third letter, first letter, and twentieth letter.” My mouth hung open. He changed the code since knowing me. He just smiled.

He pushed the wall open and turned on a switch and lights went on the full width of the building. The inside of the building was fifteen feet shorter than the outside. This room was fifteen feet by thirty feet. And it was full of things to make war with. Pistols, rifles of numerous types, clothes, cases of ammunition, and latched crates along the wall. The outside wall contained weapons on pegs and covered twenty feet of it with work benches underneath.

“Where did you get all this?”

“Most of it is collected from missions. Some I purchased from discrete contacts for unsanctioned missions.”

He walked me over to the pistols. Many looked the same and there were multiples of many of the types. He took several down, feeling them in his hand, then selected one and handed it to me. “I think this will be the best one for you.” He then took another down, very slightly larger and I saw why he selected this one for me, my smaller hands. He then showed me at the workbench the safety, ejecting the magazine, filling the magazine, loading the magazine back in and cocking it by sliding the top back. It was a nine millimeter, or so he called it. That was the caliber of the rounds. Then he showed me the proper way to stand, holding it with my right hand (my strong hand) with my left under the butt of the handle for stabilization. Then he took me outside, stopping for some square targets. He led me to an area in the forest behind the building that he apparently used for practice. I shot that pistol for an hour, reloading the magazine repeatedly. He seemed completely unconcerned about how many rounds I was firing.

He was behind me watching. I was wearing ear protection as he was. He had a big smile on his face. “Don’t laugh, I’m trying.”

“I’m not laughing, Cat. You’ve destroyed that target. You’re just shooting a scraps of paper stuck into the tree bark now. What I was smiling about was such a beautiful sight. What could be finer than a nearly naked woman firing a gun … and so well.”

In my concentration, I had completely forgotten about how I was dressed. I laughed myself, then showed him that I was putting the pistol on safety, then struck a seductive pose. He walked up to me and took the pistol and set it on a tree stump, then pulled me into him. “How do you feel?”

“Horny.”

He laughed, “I meant about the pistol, the shooting.”

“Ohhhh, fine, good.” I pressed my pelvis into him hard, “I thought you meant the other because of what I feel poking me here.” He laughed but saw I wasn’t, my eyes reflecting a need that I wanted satisfied. “I want you here, out here in the forest. Then, I’ll be a good girl and practice some more.”

He pulled the tee-shirt over my head in a quick move, “Don’t try too hard to be a good girl.”

“Hmmmm … I think I can manage that, actually.” I stripped his shirt off, then unbuckled his belt, and unsnapped his shorts. In minutes, we were both naked. He grabbed me and lifted me up; I put my arms around his neck and legs around his hips, crossing my ankles to lock them. He bounced me up a little higher and I felt him move one hand from my butt, then felt being poked on my cheeks, then between them. “Oh god, Mitch! You can do this?!?” Between the two of us, I felt him finally slip just between my lips and he froze. I moved my head to his and kissed him hard. With our lips just in contact, “Fuck me. This is so amazing!”

He slowly lowered me onto his cock and I groaned out loudly. “Oh, my dear god, you are so strong.” He lifted me and let me drop back down. I was dripping wet and I slid over him easily. I never wanted him to stop. This was again beyond my experience of loving, so totally trusting in a man in such an intimate moment. It seemed he was showing me time and again that he was mine, completely, and without doubt and question. We kissed and hugged and he raised me and lowered me. And somewhere in there, I figured out that with my legs tightly wrapped around him, I could participate by raising myself with my leg muscles.

I giggled and he stopped, “Am I doing something you think is funny, young lady?”

“I’m sorry, no, no, it was just … well … suddenly I thought we are both getting a workout now.” I kissed him, “And, thank you for calling me a young lady.” He chuckled, too.

But, we were only minutely distracted as our arousal remained high and it wasn’t long before we were clutching each other tight as we climaxed. First, it was him and feeling his cock jerk inside me and spew his seed into me, I came right after him. I hugged him tight and kissed nearly every inch of his right shoulder as I continued to sigh my release and gasp for air. I sighed again into his shoulder, I could definitely get used to sex like this with him.

We took a long break after that … in bed. I slept, like a very satisfied woman, but on waking, I had the distinct sense that he hadn’t. And, I was right. He was working out details for the ‘mission’, as I was now calling it. This was going to be one of the coolest things I had ever done. Well, at least right up there with having sex with this guy. But seriously, it was going to be cool and the thing that kept it from being cooler was the knowledge that it was also very dangerous. I trusted that he would have it worked out, but men like those we were after were always prone to do the unexpected. He repeated that a million times. Later in the afternoon, I took ‘my’ gun and another box of rounds to the target area. This time he had me focus on multiple targets, moving randomly at four targets on trees, some close, some far, some to the left, ahead, and to the right. By the end of that session, I thought I was doing pretty well. He couldn’t believe I had no experience, he said I had ‘talent’, a natural proficiency with a gun. He said after this, he wanted to see me handle a rifle. There was a mountain lion causing trouble and he was thinking of going after it, which would be good training for tracking, targeting, and shooting.

But, first, we had to get through this. That night we spent hours at the kitchen table as I described the inside of the house on the main floor and basement. I had never been to the second floor, so it was a mystery, but he assumed that was just bedrooms since I had already identified where the guy’s office was in the basement. And, there was a door in the basement I never saw into. I knew people went in there, usually in groups but they always turned the light off so it was too dark to see anything.

We were meeting the third member of the group (Hansen, that’s all I was going to get out of him) in the middle of the afternoon to get ready and go over details. When we met him at a cheap, run-down motel, he was very polite and considerate of me. I could tell it was because of Mitch.

He kept telling me to just do what Mitch said and everything would be fine. Then he looked at Mitch, “I remember the first time he took me out. I don’t think he trusted me, at all.”

I looked at the two of them. They were very comfortable and easy with each other, but it was clear that Mitch was the alpha. “Well, it appears it all worked out well for you two.”

“Yeah, well, I’d go anywhere Mitch sent me.”

“And, you know I would go anywhere with you, no matter what.”

I snickered, “Should I leave you two alone for a while?”

Mitch grabbed a pillow, which probably wasn’t all that clean, and pitched it at me. He missed, but I managed to grab the lamp before it crashed to the floor.

Hansen slapped Mitch on the arm and pointed at me, “Good reflexes, too.”

He snorted, “Don’t encourage her. Now that we are here, I can’t believe I brought her. This is no place for a rookie.”

I stopped where I was and looked at him. I was fighting back tears and anger, tears that I might disappoint him, anger that I might not get the chance to see those guys get theirs. “I’ll stay here, Mitch, you tell me to and I will. No harm, no hard feelings. I’ll trust your judgment.”

“I’m sorry, Cat, really. As it gets closer, the tension builds and I am worrying about you, protective, again. No, the plan needs three. Like I said before, you have skill, just keep your focus, and watch my back once we are inside. And, if someone moves aggressively, just drop them like I showed you, take out a knee and they are down. We’ll be using silencers like we practiced this morning, the neighbors won’t hear that part until we’re ready for them to hear and call the cops.” Then he turned to Hansen, “Did you get all the stuff?”

He pulled three duffle bags into view. He pushed one to Mitch, one to me, and the third was apparently his. He pointed to the bathroom, “You might want to go in there. We’ll change out here.” He turned and then turned right back, “But no peeking! I’m a sensitive, modest kind of guy.”

Mitch pointed to the bathroom, “God, you two! Let’s focus here!”

I was closing the door, but as I was, I heard the exchange outside and smiled.

“Mitch, give her a break. You know I always joke around before a mission. I can see it in her eyes, too. She’s letting go of some tension, just like I do. I can already tell, she’s a hell of a woman, Mitch. You’re lucky to have found her. And I know you are worried about her, but give her some slack here.”

I opened the duffle bag and started pulling things out and laying them out on the sink, counter, and the edge of the bathtub. The clothes were black, heavy duty cloth: cargo pants, mesh belt, tee-shirt, and long-sleeve shirt with front pockets. Then, I saw it, an armor-vest and made for a woman. I shrieked out, “A vest! Holy cow! For real?” All I heard from the other side was mumbling and laughing. Probably mumbling from Mitch and laughing from Hansen. I was liking Hansen a lot, but I sympathized with Mitch’s plight, he cared too much to be casual with my participation.

Then the combat boots (black) and socks. At the bottom was a communication system with transmitter, two thigh strap-on holsters with guns and silencers attached, four extra magazines, a combat knife. That seemed to be it until I turned to bag over to be sure. I had stripped down to bra and panties to start dressing and out fell a black piece of cloth. I held it up and … a thong?!? I went to the door, opened it and held it out in front of me, “A thong?!? You got me a thong?” I held it out toward Mitch, “Was this your idea of funny, mister?” He just held up his hands defensively to plead innocence. He looked at Hansen, though, who was keeping busy tying his boots. Perhaps that was a good thing given how I was dressed, or undressed, at the moment. I threw the scrap of cloth at Hansen and closed the door.

Mitch looked at him as he inspected the thong, stuffing it into one of the cargo pockets, “I think you just burned up some of the points you previously earned.”

Once dressed, I marveled that everything fit perfectly. I guess Mitch paid closer attention during our shopping trips than I thought. It was rather erotic feeling that a man knew my sizes so well. I came out holding the knife, holsters, clips, and guns. Nobody mentioned the thong, again, and I couldn’t see it lying around, either. I made sure the guns were on safety and looked at the guys. Mitch came over and helped me get the holsters securely on so they were a part of my thigh. The knife slid into a holder on the vest and the magazines in cases on the belt. He then handed out very light, open mesh, ski-type masks that only showed the eyes.

Before I adjusted to the reality of being dressed like someone ready to make an assault on someone and to the reality that these two men expected me to be a full and integral part, we were cruising past the house and the surveillance car across the street from it. The night was just turning dark. Mitch noted that the closest street lights were apparently out. Hansen just smiled. He had shot the sensors out with the silencer early this morning in preparation. Now, the area surround the house was black dark. He turned the van around and came back directly toward the front of the surveillance car with his brights on. That effectively blinded the guy and we slipped out of the side of the van as he slowed. I followed Mitch to the shrubs in front of the house and waited with him. I saw him pull his gun and I did the same, fingering the safety to remember where it was in the dark but leaving it on. After a few minutes, Hansen’s voice came over the comm-units, “I’m in the back neighbor’s yard. I have to tranq the dog before going in.” Hansen and Mitch wanted to just shoot the dog, but I had argued against it. The dog had been made to **** me on occasions, but it never did it with v******e or brutal action like the men. The dog was actually a relief sometimes from the men. Even at the time when it came out of my mouth, I was surprised I could feel anything positive about this place.

“I’m in the yard, approaching the house. There are guys in the kitchen. Checking it out.”

I nudged Mitch, “How does he check it out?”

“Small mirror on an extending rod.” I could tell that questions weren’t encouraged.

“Three in the kitchen. They’re drinking beer and eating take-out.” He described each.

I interrupted, “He’s the boss. The one you described as ‘mousy’ with glasses. Go figure, huh?”

“No lights upstairs, but yes in the basement.” I shrugged my shoulders.

Mitch considered it, “Okay, it might be just the women in the basement. But, we have to allow that there might be another one down there.” He looked at me, then the car across the street. “Okay, we go on my three count. Hansen, you come on ten.”

We were all wearing skin-tight gloves. Mitch took out a remote from his cargo pocket and pointed it down the street. He said, one. He pushed the button and a series of cars down the street started beeping, honking, and flashing lights. “Two, three.” We were up on the stoop with me holding the outside door open for him and he kicked the front door in, me charging in behind him, covering the stairs upstairs. Shortly after we were in and chairs were flying in the kitchen, the back door was kicked in. The three men were caught between three 9 millimeter guns pointed at them. I was crouched down alongside Mitch just as we had practiced as part of the entry sequence. Once they were all on the floor, I moved quickly to close the front door and check on the car across the street. The diversion seemed to have worked perfectly.

The next step was to determine if there was anyone else in the house to worry about. Hansen moved to the stairs going upstairs and confirmed that the upstairs was still dark. He then went to the kitchen, which contained the access stairway behind a closed door to the basement. He was to keep an eye on it as Mitch sought the answer.

“You,” he went directly to the guy I identified as the leader, “how many are in the basement besides the women?”

He tried looking up, but Mitch poked him in the head. “I told you to look only at the floor!” He looked at me to gage my handling of it all. This was what jobs sometimes involved for him and Hansen. This was new to me, but it was amazingly acceptable to me. I hadn’t realized until we were inside the house and confronting these men, just how much hate I harbored for them. It was then that I realized a startling thing about myself. Mitch had spent very focused time with me over the past couple days to get me comfortable with this weapon, considering small targets and quick, reflexive responses. He made it very clear today and tonight that if I was participating, it couldn’t be as a spectator, and it had to be fully participatory. If the need arose, if Mitch indicated a need, I had to pull the trigger. As I stood over these three, Mitch focused on questioning, I was covering him. I held the weapon steady and roaming over the three prone bodies in front of me, the safety off, and my finger on the trigger, a slight pressure already being applied so the response from me could be immediate. This was all the result of the quick training Mitch had given, reinforced, and repeated.

Mitch was getting frustrated. He was getting nothing from the men and we were on a short time schedule to avoid detection by the car outside. The three men were on their fronts, flat on the floor, their legs parted, and their arms straight out beyond their heads. He walked to the leader, asked his question, again. Receiving only a ‘fuck you’, he stepped on the guys hand. He cried out, but remained resistant. Mitch looked up to me as he stepped to the side and I knew what he wanted, I was about to shoot a human being. Well … okay, maybe a sub-form of a human being. I lowered my aim to the guy’s right knee and pulled the trigger. The silenced weapon spat out a whisper of the explosion that occurred inside it and the man screamed.

Mitch moved to the next guy, “How many men are downstairs?”

Clearly he wasn’t used to being in this situation himself, he was noticeably shaking and he appeared to have wet himself. “Only one guy with the two women.” He started spewing information like a spigot that had been suddenly fully opened. “He was down there using, playing with one of the women. He was half drunk and half stoned when we came up here.” He was induced to persuade the guy to come up to the kitchen. He stumbled all the way up and hadn’t been aware of the commotion going on above him.

In short order, we all moved down to the basement. Two of the guys had to help the leader down the stairs, a blown out knee pretty much devastated the guy. I didn’t have much sympathy, in fact, none. In the basement, memories came flood back as I saw the empty cage that was mine, the racks and machines. I watched the guy not putting pressure on his leg and I got pissed … big time pissed. I remembered times when I was made to step onto tacks put on the floor and then perform erotic dances without showing indications of pain. I remembered them pouring tacks into my pussy, then setting up a fucking machine to pound into me for an hour. Afterwards, it took the other women that long with a speculum and long tweezers to extract all the tacks, especially the ones that had been embedded into my tender flesh inside. Without speaking I indicated to the two helping men to back off. I then indicated to the leader to walk to the vertical ‘X’ rack against the wall. It was only four steps but it caused him tremendous pain to get there. Mitch moved in and tied him with the straps, his arms, and legs to the ‘X’ planks. Meanwhile, Hansen had the other two tied back-to-back against a steel pipe column.

Mitch hit the leader once in the jaw, once in the stomach, and kicked him in the damaged knee. “Now, we can continue this or you can become very cooperative.” He then asked about the d**gs, money, videos, and records of his business. He hesitated; Mitch stepped back and didn’t even look to me this time. He didn’t have to, whether I was proud of it or not, I wanted to do this. This time it was his left knee. The guy screamed more.

Mitch walked up to him, “She’ll keep doing this. You need to understand how motivated you have made her.”

“Her? What are you talking about? Why?”

Mitch nodded and I walked up to him. I glanced to the women who were cowered at the back of their cages, and the men who didn’t seem to want to watch. I raised the mask from my face when I was about twelve inches from his. It took a minute, then realization was in his face, and the next moment, terror was in his face. “You! No! No way, how …?”

I moved away and Mitch stepped up, again. “I said she was motivated. Can your simple mind even imagine all she would like to do to you right now? She’s already ruined both your knees. I’ve trained her to go to small targets, joints that immobilize but leave you alive. Frankly, I don’t care, sooner or later, you will give me everything. Are you ready to hurt more or cooperate?”

He was very willing to cooperate. Thankfully, even though I found pulling the trigger wasn’t that hard given my feelings for him, I didn’t relish inflicting new pain levels. He gave the location of the safe, the combination, where they had raw footage, videos, and records of d**gs distribution, porn distribution, and where the women were shipped as slaves. When he said some young ones were shipped overseas, I thought Mitch might actually kill him, but I stepped between them after several kicks to his ruined knees.

I sent Hansen and him to look in the safe. They came out with two backpacks, each carrying one. As they headed for the stairs, I stopped at the cages and the women inside. Mitch encouraged me forward with a hand to the small of my back, “No, they have to stay there until the law enforcement agencies find them. It will build the case stronger.” I nodded my understanding but couldn’t help not looking back at them one more time. If not for a chance encounter, that’s where I would still be … just like them.

Upstairs, Mitch was weighing the two backpacks in his hands. The one he gave me was surprisingly heavy. I assumed the other was even heavier. Then Hansen left out the back kitchen door and Mitch described the escape plan, I thought he was nuts. We moved to the front door, cracked it open, and unlatched the outside storm door, Mitch in front. He was marking time with his watch. He reached into my pack, re-zipped it, smiled at me, pulled the pin on a canister, threw it into the kitchen, and pulled me out the door. As he hit the front stoop, there was an explosion down the block behind the surveillance car, then the van with the sliding door wide open came charging down the block and slowed as we ran from the steps to the street. Mitch ran down the front sidewalk and I ran at an angle to his right as the van approach from the left. From behind me came a deafening bang from the concussion grenade Mitch had thrown. Dogs started back all over the neighborhood from the two explosions. I saw Mitch dive into the side of the van as it continued to move to my position and I dove in. That was when I realized why Mitch wanted to go in first. As I slid across the floor of the van, I slammed into Mitch, not the outside wall of the van.

His arms went around me as the van picked up speed, past the wreckage of the exploded car he had parked earlier that evening. Mitch closed the side door and a couple more turns and we were on the highway by the time we heard police and fire sirens. It was only ten minutes later when Hansen pulled into the shopping mall parking lot behind Mitch’s pickup truck. We threw the back pack and the duffle bags into the back bed, but there was something I had to do, before we left. This was supposed to be a quick transfer and leave, but I opened his door and pulled Hansen out of his seat. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him square of the mouth. “I hope we meet again soon, Hansen.”

I turned and jumped into the passenger seat, Hansen still standing behind the truck with his mouth open. Mitch was watching the rearview mirror and chuckled, “I think you gave him a short-circuit, he’s still standing back there.” I turned in the seat and looked back; he seemed to recover and got back into the van. The next moment we were headed in opposite directions. Hansen was headed North on the interstate for the Denver Airport where he would abandon the van in the garage, pick up the rental he had reserved, and returned to his home. It would be weeks before anyone got suspicious about the van and since we all wore gloves; any finger prints would not lead anyone back to us.

We were headed home. Wow, really? Home? But, that’s what he said, ‘we’ were going ‘home’. That part made me feel good. The other parts of the night gave me pause. I was staring out into the black void that is ranch land at night. There is absolutely nothing to see except for an occasional homestead light that made you wonder why anyone would have stopped and settled in such a place. And, yet, I was staring out into that void, as if that void might somehow yield some answer to an unspoken question.

Between my staring out into the black nothing and the dashboard lights showing on his face, I knew he was frequently glancing my way as we traveled down the dark and lonely road south. “Are you okay, Cat? Are you bothered by what happened tonight? Talk to me, please.”

I twisted toward him, tucking my left leg under me, and my back nearly to the door, despite that seatbelts make that very difficult. “You’re sweet. Thank you.” I was quiet for a moment, watching him as he drove, but he was also still clearly waiting for me to continue. “Okay, I’ll talk. We still have another hour left, so here goes …” I took a deep breath and until that moment had forgotten that we were still dressed in the same clothes with the vests. I slipped the knife out of the scabbard and looked at it in the dim light of the dashboard. It was very sharp. I put it back in and snapped the strap into place. “Mitch … I love you. That’s number one and the most important. You’ve given me, opened up to me, a life I didn’t know was even possible, anymore. And that presents a feeling of not being able to repay a debt when the debt is so huge.” I put my hand up to stop him as he started to respond, “Shhh, you just listen. You wanted me to talk, so be careful what you ask for.” The smile we shared was obvious despite the dark interior of the truck. I was quiet for a moment as I collected my thoughts.

“So, huge debt … okay … but, what I want you to understand, and to understand without doubt or question, is that my love for you is bigger than the sense of debt. I don’t know if that makes sense. What I mean is that despite that I could feel I could never repay you, my love is completely aside from that sense. Mitch, to that point I am making a mess of trying to explain … there are two things that are obvious truths to me about you in regards to me: one, a million men could have driven past on that road, but you would have been the only one to stop and confront five men for a stranger; two, the thing that is in you, that part of you that makes you that way … is why I love you, and I feel that my love for you, in you, is a celebration of that part of you. Neither of us is young or naïve after what we have been through, I know we have only known each other a very short number of months, I know there is much to learn about each other, but that is what I want to do. I want to learn all about you and you to learn all about me. So, this took too long to get to …” He laughed. “The important thing I want you to know is that when I want to do things for you, when I express my gratitude, thankfulness for you, it is that love. I will always be grateful to you for standing up for me, but with freewill that wouldn’t keep me here. Now … this is hard now to say, but if you had initially applied a dominant attitude like other men had, I might well have remained in a compliant demeanor. But, you gave my freewill back to me, and it was with that freewill that I wanted to stay and to love.”

I reached out and touched his leg, feeling it twitch as his foot moved slightly, “One more thing is our personalities. We can discuss this at a later time, but I know our personality strengths are in conflict. And, I love you for that, too. You are a very dominant and controlling person, Mitchell Connor. Very. It shows in athletics, your military career whether you were senior rank at the moment or not, it showed in your … what … other career. It showed in your handling of Agent Baxter and Hansen. Your natural personality reaction is to control and dominate the relationship. You’ve done the opposite with me.” I laughed, “No, you haven’t been compliant. NO. But, you have been very careful not to get in the way of me learning to take control of myself.” I took a deep breath before proceeding, “And me … you know I am a basic submissive. I had been forced to live without will power for so long, but even without that, I was always more comfortable with someone making decisions, telling me what to do, and leading my life. You’ve force me to go beyond that, to make decisions for myself, to do things not to just please someone else, but because I want it or want to do it. And that has been very, very, VERY hard for me to adjust to. Hell, you knew I was very sexual but insisted that my approach was not to please you, to give you, but that I wanted it and wanted to SHARE it.” I stroked his thigh; again, I felt the muscles underneath his pants, “We will talk about this another time.”

He venture a look at me, “Well, we’ve got more driving …”

I laughed, “I know, I’m not done, yet.” I touched his shoulder, “Mitch, I don’t want you to worry about tonight. You know, it is funny, the thing about submissive and all. I never thought of myself as being able to hurt someone like that … with them, it wasn’t even hard. I don’t know if I should feel bad about that, but I don’t. Now I’m done.”

He put his hand out and I grabbed it. “I am glad, Cat. You’ll see how much this ends up helping the FBI and other agencies.”

“You seem to be driving fast, why?”

“Sooner than later, the connection will be made and the FBI will be contacted and when that happens, someone is going to ask Baxter about a potential of our involvement. We have a lot of motive. I want to be back at the house as quick as possible. He will try my cell but at the house, it won’t have reception and go straight to message. That only means the cell is at the house or the phone is turned off. Then, he is bound to check the Sat-phone. We don’t have to be there when he calls, but it shouldn’t be too late.

We had just gotten through the gate onto the property when the light went on the Sat-phone indicating a missed call. It took us another twenty minutes to navigate the narrow track in the dark; we pulled into the barn alongside the other truck before we got out, grabbed the bags from the back of the truck, and headed with them for the secret door at the back. While we walked, Mitch checked the message and returned the call.

“Baxter, what is it?”

“Thought you might be interested in the excitement up here. You know that house we were watching? We got a call from the local cops; three guys raided it, did all kinds of damage, and gave the locals a reason to go in, which led to us being inside. That’s where I am right now, in fact. So, it’s good that you are home, that takes you off the suspect list, or the thank you list depending on your perspective.” He went on for a while, talking about the d**gs found, the slaves in the cages, the men tied up and the leader with two shot up knees. In the short time they had been there, they had found evidence to tie him and his organization to numerous violations to result in significant prison time. He ended by saying he was thankful they finally got the right break.

After the call, I said I needed bed in a bad way. He dropped everything, turned out the light and locked up the room. Inside the house, he sent me to the bedroom while he went to the kitchen. I was undressed to my bra and panties when he came in with two glasses of bourbon. He handed me one of the glasses, “Wow, lace underwear under all the combat clothes, that’s hot. Speaking of which …” He dug into his cargo pocket and pulled out the flimsy, black, lace thong. “I can’t wait to see this on you …”

I walked up to him, took the nearly nothing piece clothing, twirled it on my finger, and clinked his glass with mine, “Sir, you name it, you can see me anyway you want me …” He didn’t object to my tone this time, he just smiled and took me into his arms.

* * CHAPTER FIVE will follow * * Thanks for reading.