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From: punchinello@pulperotica.com
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Subject: {ASSM} She Said 'Yes' (MF,nc,bond) Pulp Story!
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Date: Sat, 29 Jan 2005 23:10:05 -0500
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SHE SAID 'YES'

She said 'yes,' but she didn't know the score....



She Said 'Yes'

(MF, nc, bond)
By: Punchinello


Up-state New York, 1963

"A detective? Really? What kind of crimes do you solve?" Peg
brushed the blond strands away from her face and looked the handsome
man in the eye.

He stirred his drink and looked solemn. "Sex crimes," he said.
"Vice. Rape. Assault. Sometimes murder."

"Wow." His name was Don. He had faraway eyes that said he was a
serious man.

"It's not easy. We've been struggling with a series of cases
recently. Assault and rape. Brutal stuff."

Peggy bristled. "Really? In this area?"

"Here and down-state. This guy gets all over. It's been a tough one
to crack. I feel like.... like we're so close."  He lit up a
cigarette and took a drag.

The blond woman leaned in, shutting out the noise of the bar. "What
happened?"

Detective Tambor looked her in the eye. "Do you really want to
know?" Glasses clinked behind them. A waitress was bussing a table.

"Sure."

He tipped back the rest of his drink and began. "This sick bastard
abducts young women somehow. Lures them to his car somehow. Then he
takes them to the woods. He smacks 'em around a little. You know, to
soften them up."

"Oh, my God."

Detective Tambor leaned close, eyes intense. "Then he tears off their
clothes. They're screaming, crying, trying to get away. But he just
laughs and strips them naked. He leaves 'em in rags, all beat up.
And... he rapes them, of course."

Peggy swallowed hard and gripped her drink with both hands. "Oh, my
God. Does he kill them?"

"No," the dark-eyed man said. "No. He just leaves in there in the
woods, naked and bruised and battered. He likes the feeling, you know.
The power over women."

"Do you have any clues?"

He pursed his lips. He had these full lips; the kind that intrigue
women, mesmerize them into staring. "Clues? A million. But what's
important, you know? How do you know what's vital to the scene of the
crime and what's not? I don't know."

"What are you going to do?"

The detective stroked his throat thoughtfully. "We've done some
research already, you know? On previous cases. We walk thru the crime,
step by step, with a stand-in. You know, an actress or someone."

"Really?" Peg pushed her fingers thru her thick hair.

"Sure. It helps to figure out exactly what happened. You go thru it
all, recreating the crime, and then you study it. You take pictures,
study the scene of the crime just like it was real. All the little
clues pop out, what's important and what's not important, right? It
makes a big difference."

"That is so fascinating. I never knew you could do that."

Don was warming up now. "I'm kind of 'polishing the badge,'
now," he said, "but, we solved this murder case a couple of years
ago that way. A local woman helped out, played the part of the victim.
Turns out, the victim wasn't strong enough to lock the door once the
killer got his hand on the knob."

"Really? You could tell that?" She shifted in her seat, breasts
protruding thru her low-cut blouse.

"Sure. With a man, another cop, you know, we couldn't tell.
Roger-that's my partner-it didn't occur to us that a woman
couldn't turn the lock. That really cinched it. We figured out the
guy must have already been in the hall. That narrowed it down, and we
got our guy."

"Oh, wow." She marveled at the idea, looking all around at the
ceiling of the crummy bar. She never met interesting men here,
especially not a cop like Don.

"But it's tough to do, you know? What woman wants to act out a
rape? I mean, you can't ask the victim. She's already been thru it
once, you know? I've done it before, but it's hard to find a woman
who wants to help out the cops."

"No. Really? It seems like anyone would want to." She took a
lady-like swallow of her cocktail.

"Are you kiddin'? She's liable to get knocked around, even just
play acting. I mean, you've got to really rip her clothes off, you
know?"

"Wow. You can't get a policewoman?"

He nodded and shrugged. "Oh sure. They help out sometimes. But a
policewoman is a whole different kind of woman, you know? They've
been trained to handle themselves, especially with a man. I mean most
of them-not all of them, mind you, but most of them-they're
man-haters anyway."

"What? Really? You mean, they're, like, lezzies?" She leaned back
and crossed her long legs.

"Oh sure, total dykes. They don't what a man to lay a hand on them,
even if it's for a good cause."

"Wow, I never thought of that. That makes sense." She straightened
a bit, played with the collar of her blouse unconsciously. Her cleavage
plunged down to nowhere.

The detective took another puff of his smoke. "So, we have to find
other women to do it. But it's hard. Actresses are good for, like,
murder victims, but they're kind of prissy, you know? They don't
want any rough stuff; and that's were all the clues are."

"Oh, totally. Like bruises and everything."

"Exactly! Now hookers-I don't want to shock you, but, you know,
we've tried using working girls, you know, hookers. Roger likes to
use them for rape victims."

"No, that makes total sense. I totally understand." She felt like
she was completely in tune with the detective, even if her head
wasn't completely clear from the drinks she'd had.

"They'll go all the way, if you know what I mean. And they don't
mind rough stuff, but-" He shrugged. He had broad shoulders, an
athletic build.

She smile wryly. "But... they're hookers."

"Exactly! They don't mind it, that's the problem. They can take
it, but it's not like a real woman, if you know what I mean." He
took a long drag on his cigarette.

"No, I totally get it. That's so wild. It's like, you have to
find someone who can totally get into it, totally let herself go, but
who will still fight back and everything."

"Exactly! You completely get it. You see the problem. We're gonna
have to talk to a hundred women, probably-actresses, models, regular
girls, anybody who's interested."

"And it's not like they're gonna line up at your door to get
their clothes torn off."

"Oh, no," he laughed. "There's good money it, of course, but
still...." He waved his cigarette around aimlessly.

"There is?"

"Oh yeah. It's one of the few things the department is willing to
pay good money for. They get money from research places and women's
charities, you know?"

"Oh, yeah. That makes total sense."

The detective pick a bit of tobacco off his tongue and flicked it away.
"Yeah, but even if you're offering $500, it's not easy getting a
woman to... you know..."

"Let you attack her? Like... what exactly do you do?" $500 was a
lot of money to Peggy.

"Well, it's very confidential of course. It's usually just two
detectives, Roger or a lady cop; sometimes a stenographer, but never
for a rape. It's just too, you know, private."

"Yeah." Peg had known steno girls before. She could just imagine a
stenographer at a rape scene. She'd be in tears in a minute and
totally unable to take notes.

The square-jawed man tapped his smoke in the ashtray. "Some girls
think the whole department's going to be there to watch, but we keep
it really private."

"Totally." She was close now. She could see the light glinting in
his eyes. He had hard eyes.

"And we go thru the incident as best we can, reenacting the events,
you know: a secluded location in the woods, a struggle. The girl wears
a costume, you know: clothes just like the victims wore. That way her
own clothes don't get ruined."

"Right. That's good."

"Sure. But it gets a little rough. The girl has to make it look good,
you know? Lots of struggling, wrestling, that kind of thing. And it has
to be pretty real. I don't want to shock you again, but, you know, it
has to get pretty real for it to be worth doing."

"Oh wow. I get it. That's so intense." She tried to imagine it:
dressed provocatively, being manhandled, her clothes torn off her body,
thrown to the ground....

"Yeah. The girl is usually pretty torn up about it. It's not easy,
I won't lie to you. But it's so valuable! The pictures of the
bruises and scratches.... The pattern of tearing in the cloth.... And
it really helps us figure out what kind of injuries the rapist might
have suffered."

"The rapist?"

"Oh sure. He might get scratched or something. That's a big help.
Then we can look for some pervert with similar scratches. I can tell
you, I've been scratched a couple of times, you know, reenacting."

"That happens?"

He looked at her hard. "It has to be very realistic or it isn't
worth it."

She sat back. "Wow."

Don the detective crushed out his cigarette. "Look, it's getting'
late. I think I'm gonna-"

"Wait! Wait a minute. Are you really going to do this? Are you going
to start looking for a girl to help you do this?"

"Sure. And I'm not looking forward to it. A lot of girls are
interested in the money, but they once they hear about-"

"What if I wanted to do it? What if I wanted to help you catch this
bastard?"

"Whoa. Wait a minute. This wasn't some come-on-"

"No, no!" Peggy protested. "I'm serious! I want to help. I want
you to catch this guy."

Don sat down again. "That's amazing. Really. That's very moving
that you want to help out. This sort of thing isn't easy."

Peg straightened up. "I understand."

"It can get pretty rough, you know. I mean, I wasn't kidding.
It's like the real thing. You have to be mentally prepared."

She touched his arm. "I know. I totally understand."

"I'll call you when I get the chief's okay."



A week later, Saturday, they'd set up the meeting. Detective
Tambor's partner would be there, but no stenographer: none of them
would agree to it. That made Peggy laugh. He picked up Peggy at her
apartment. She had gotten a sitter for her two kids. She hadn't told
the detective that she was divorced with two children. A guy like him
wouldn't understand. Or maybe he would; a cop like him had probably
seen everything, even a young mother mistreated by a lying jerk of a
husband and who was spending her Friday nights talking to men in crummy
bars.

"Where's Roger?" she asked when he pulled up and popped open the
passenger door of the big green sedan.

"Not Roger," he said when she got in. "I had a lady cop lined
up-Diane-but she called in sick today. You still want to do
this?" He flicked his cigarette and blew smoke out the side of his
mouth.

"Yeah, sure," she said. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure I
would have been comfortable with your partner there. It's a
little-"

"I know. That's why I try to get a lady cop to come along. They can
usually help calm the girl down, especially if it's a rape and not
just a murder or something."

Peggy gave a little laugh. "'Just a murder'?"

"Well, you know what I mean." He jammed his cigarette butt in the
ashtray. "Getting stabbed or whatever is pretty terrifying, but
it's not the same as, you know, getting your clothes torn off and
everything."

Peggy nodded. "Yeah. I know what you mean. Rape is even more... I
don't know.... just awful."

"Here's your wardrobe." He held a whole outfit he'd pulled from
the back. As she reached for it, he said, "I want to thank you again,
Peggy. This is a big favor you're doing for the department. It's
probably going to save more than one woman from being attacked and
maybe even killed."

"I- I don't know what to say. I'm happy to do it."

"Well, the department is really grateful. You can fill this out,"
he said, handing her a form, "And I'll turn it in for the reward.
It's really quick. They get it ready beforehand."

Peggy was sober. "Five hundred bucks will come in handy, I can tell
you."

"Well, you deserve it for being this brave," he said gently.

They drove in silence for a while, Peggy filling out the form with a
pen on top of the stack of clothes the detective had given her. They
stopped finally in a secluded woodland area outside the city. It was
quiet, even outside the car. The first autumn leaves were scattered on
the ground. "I didn't know this kind of place existed."

Don slapped the transmission into park. "Not many people do," the
detective said. "Just rapists and murderers, I guess... and cops."

"Right."

"You can change in the car," he said. "I'll change behind that
tree." He pointed to a large tree on his side of the car, not far
away.

"You?"

"Sure," he laughed. "You don't think a rapist dresses like a
police detective, do you?" He loosened his tie with a tug.

Peggy got into the back seat of the car and began to disrobe. She felt
rather self-conscious at first, but it seemed silly in a moment, when
she thought that soon Detective Tambor would be tearing her clothes
off. She wondered if he was strip her completely naked. It was a little
chilly out. Her nipples were already hard in the car; she could just
imagine what it would be like to be naked outside in the woods.

Peggy got completely naked in the back seat and folded her own clothes
neatly before beginning to put on the costume. The detective had
included everything in the wardrobe kit: a colorful red and yellow
flower print dress, brassiere, panties, and a pair of clogs. He'd
gotten her size after calling her with the good news that he'd gotten
the go-ahead from his chief. It was a little embarrassing to have to
tell him what size bra she wore, and even offered to bring her own
underclothes, but he'd insisted on bringing the whole wardrobe so he
could take it back to the precinct house and look it over carefully.
Leaves and sticks and things become embedded in the clothes, he'd
explained, and it made for important clues.

Peggy got out of the car and dropped the clogs on the ground to slip
them on. She'd never be able to run in them. Maybe that was the
point. The fall air was crisp, a little cool to go running around naked
in the woods. "Jesus!" she said, "my heart's pounding!"

"Good," Don said suddenly. He was coming around the car already,
dressed in a motorcyclist's black leather pants and vest, but his
chest bare and muscled, a strangely menacing look on his face. He
carried a length of white rope.

Peggy caught her breath. "What's the rope for? Y-You didn't say
anything about rope." Her voice was small and weak.

"Are you ready to get fucked?" he asked with a growl. It sent a
shiver down her spine that turned her knees to jelly.

When he came around the front of the car, she started to turn. When she
started to run, he bolted after her. The clogs she wore made her wobble
and struggle. The cool air made the branches and leaves sting when they
struck her as she crashed thru the brush. She set a foot wrong among
the roots and stumble badly, twisting her ankle and falling to the
ground. The tears already streamed down her face. He grabbed her from
behind at the elbow and pulled Peggy to him, dropping his rope in the
leaves.

"Is your pussy wet? Are you ready to fuck?" His voice was a ragged
growl. He jammed his hand between her legs and jerked her panties
aside-the panties he given her to put on. She heard the seams tear.
His hand invaded her. "Oh yeah. Your dirty little pussy is wet,
isn't it? You're ready for this. You've been waiting for this the
whole day, haven't you?" He pulled her panties down with one hand,
stretching and tearing them, scraping her hips raw.

"No! No, please! Stop! I- I- Oh!" He held her elbow fast in a
pincer-like grip. His nails bit into her flesh. She tried to pull away,
and he jerked her around and slapped her across the side of the face.
It stung her ear and made her gasp thru her tears. She gasped again
when he pushed her down and pulled the panties over her ankles,
squirmed and pumped her legs, but that only made it easier to pull them
off and drop them among the dirty leaves. Peggy cried out and tried to
wriggle out of his grasp, but he had her ankle now. "No! Stop!" she
screamed.

He laughed cruelly and struck her again. "Scream! Go on! We're in
the middle of nowhere! You don't even know where you are, do you?"
And he laughed again as Peggy broke down into a mournful sob.

"Please, don't," she begged thru her tears. Her attacker grabbed
her face and held her close to look her in the eye.

"It's too late for begging. The game has already begun." She
screamed again, high and hard, with all her might, but he ignored her.
The hard man twisted her around and held her down on the ground. He
scrambled for the roped he had dropped and slapped her with it once,
then twice to calm her squirming. Then he wrapped her arms with the
rope, high up, above the elbows, bound behind her back. He strung it
down to her wrists and wrapped them too, then threw it around her waist
and cinched it up tight, pinning her arms behind her tightly.

The attacker put his lips to Peggy's ear and hissed, "For some
girls, this is terrifying. For others, tho... it's very arousing. Is
your heart beating fast?"

"Stop!" the girl wailed. "Please!" Her voice was a hoarse,
pleading groan. He started first by ripping her dress up to her waist,
laying the fabric back to expose her creamy thighs and her dark blond
pussy. Then he turned her over and ripped the front down to open her
chest, breaking open her brassiere in front. The cool air under the
enormous trees blew across her naked breasts, bruised and scraped by
the ground and the struggle. "Please don't do anything else," she
begged evenly. "I want to stop now. I won't tell anyone." He
pinched her nipples hard with a laugh and slapped her face. "I
won't tell anyone," she cried.

The sex fiend turned Peggy over again and kneeled between her legs.
"This is some prime pussy, honey," he said quietly. But Peggy was
sobbing into the dirty leaves and weeds now. He spread her legs and
opened his leather pants to expose a thick, half-erect cock. He slapped
it against her bare thigh. "You ready for this, little girl?" he
asked mockingly.

Peggy groaned and struggled against the ropes, but it was no use. Her
attacker spread her thighs wide and slid his dirty fingers around her
pussy. He spat on his hand and worked it up and down her crack,
greasing her up for a rough rutting. At last, he loomed over her and
pushed his cock against her pussy lips. Peggy squealed and cried as he
penetrated her, squirming under him weakly. He pushed in, pulling back
slightly before ramming it home and squeezing a groan out of his
slender victim.

The rapist held Peggy's shoulders as he fucked her, leaning over her
on his knees between her legs, pumping his ass and mashing her into the
dirty ground over and over. He pounded her tender pussy mercilessly,
fucking it like punishment, pulling her hair cruelly. And all the while
his hapless victim moaned and sobbed uncontrollably, squeaking when he
pulled her hair and sobbing all the harder.

At last, a powerful orgasm built up in the rapist's gut and came
spewing out his slick cock with a heavy grunt. He pushed into her to
plant it deep, then pulled out all the way, spilling the last of it all
over her pale ass, smearing it with the head of his cock and chuckling
to himself. He stood up again and pulled his pants up enough to walk,
still stroking his own dick. Leaves and sticks stuck to Peggy's
sweaty, jism-smeared body. She writhed in pain and humiliation, crying
softly now, the tears streaking her dirty face at odd angles.

"Did you like that, honey?" he asked. "Is that what you
expected?" He kneeled next to her. "Goddamn, you have a hot little
pussy. You got a pussy that makes a man's mouth water." He rubbed
his dirty hand in it, smearing cum and pussy juice and sweat up over
her dirty belly.

"You fucking bastard!" she screamed. "You fucking, fucking
bastard!" He laughed, but he also backhanded her across the face,
leaving a hot, red welt on her cheek. Blood began to trickle from her
nose.

He crabbed her chin and pinched it again hard. "I think I'm gonna
screw you again." Unable to speak, she huffed and moaned in protest.
"I think I better try that anal stuff."

Peggy jerked her head free and screamed. "No! No!!"

The rapist sat down next to her and looked her over. "Yeah," he
said. "I'd better fuck you in the ass to see what that's like."
He stuck his dirty middle finger in his mouth and pulled it out with
wet, saliva-slick globules running down it. Peggy's eyes snapped open
wide, but he jammed a stick sideways in her open mouth to keep her
quiet. Then, holding his hand up like surgeon preparing to enter the
operating room, her attacker turned her over with his other hand and
smacked her ass hard. Then he squeezed his filthy, wet finger into her
asshole and worked it in and out. Peggy squealed, but he paid no
attention. "Oh, yeah," he muttered. "Oh that's gonna be nice.
Nice and tight." He spat on his hand and worked the spittle around
her asshole again.

He stood up and came around behind her again, lowering his pants and
pulling out his semi-rigid dick, playing with it and rubbing it against
her smooth ass. The flesh was cool and soft. The rapist worked up a
good stiff erection looking her over, and hocked up a thick wad of spit
to drop right between her cheeks, onto her brown little sphincter. His
petite victim pinched her ass cheeks together and burst into tears
again, but her rapist smacked her naked ass hard and opened her to
admit his dick.

He leaned into her, pressing his cock head slowly into her asshole,
ignoring her desperate, incoherent cries, and forced his cock as deep
as it would go. "You tight little bitch. Oh, Jesus, you tight little
fucking bitch!" He fucked her ass slowly at first, gradually building
up a head of steam until at last they were both grunting and moaning
almost at the same moment. He pulled her hair and grunted, fucked her
hard and moaned and panted.

The leather-clad sex pervert at last jammed his dick deep into
Peggy's ass and let loose a thick jet of hot cum inside her. Her
fucked her still with hot, panting thrusts and smacked her ass and
pulled her hair. "You fucking tight whore!" he groaned with each
thrust. "You hot little fuckhole!"

Suddenly, he jerked his dick out of her ass and pushed her over. He
jammed his thick, wet cock in Peggy's face and shouted, "Lick it!
Lick it now!" Peggy opened her mouth and closed her eyes, and the man
stuck his dick between her lips. He rubbed it over her tongue and
screamed at her to lick it again. "Lick it or else, you fucking
bitch. Lick it now!" Peggy stuck out her tongue and licked the
disgusting member, almost gagging at the act, forced to tasted her own
cunt and ass along with his jism and spit. "Oh, yeah," he said,
jacking the final drops of sperm onto her tongue and lips and smearing
it around. "You like that? You like that on you tongue, honey?"
Peggy nodded weakly, her face a sour lie.

"Oh, yeah," he sighed, pulling up his pants. "That was really
good. Really, really good. You were great, honey. That was very
realistic. Stay there. Don't move."

Peggy's mind reeled while her rapist walked away, back to the car,
where he pulled out a camera and flash with a handful of bulbs.
"Don't move. Just stay like that," he said. POP! The camera
flashed in her face. He stopped and changed the bulb. "Don't
move."

"What are you doing?" Peggy struggled against the ropes that still
held her arms back uncomfortably.

"Don't move, I said." POP! Another flash as he documented her
bruises, her bloody nose, her scrapes, the spit and semen that fouled
her groin. "Show me your neck." POP! "Spread your legs." POP!
"Good, good." POP! "Lift your feet up. Let me see the bottoms."
POP! "Chest." POP! It was humiliating, confusing.

At last, when he was done, the detective laid the camera down and
untied his battered victim. He put the camera away and got a sheaf of
papers and photos from the car. They looked at them together while
Peggy put her own clothes back on-right over her filthy, semen- and
spit-stained body.

"Jesus, do I look like that?" she asked.

"These are real rape victims, of course," Don said. "Very similar
injuries. Similar rope burns. You really struggled hard."

Peggy looked at herself in the side mirror of the car, still only
half-dressed and sweating in the cool autumn air. "Jesus! Oh shit!
Look at me! Oh, God! How am I going to explain this to my kids?"

"Kids?!" the detective spat. "What are you talking about? You
didn't say anything-"

"Oh, fuck you!" Peggy spat back at him. "So I've got kids.
It's not like you asked." She wiped the drying blood and poked the
tender bruised under her eye that would surely develop into a shiner.
"Shit. Oh, shit. You son of a bitch."

"Hey, goddamn it," the detective barked. "You knew what you were
in for! I told you everything!"

"You never said anything about tying me up, you fucker!" she
shrieked. "God damn it! God damn you! That fucking hurt! You son of a
bitch! You should have stopped! God! What if I get pregnant?! Oh, shit!
Shit!" He tried to go to her, put his arm around her, but she shook
him off. She buttoned her blouse and got in the car. She wiped her face
and pushed back her hair. "I better get my money, you bastard," she
muttered.

He took her home and dropped her off, watched her slink inside holding
her face. She stood on the stoop for a moment and watched him drive
off.



Three weeks later, with no check in the mail, Peggy went to the local
police. She asked for Detective Don Tambor.

No such man.

"You've got to know him here. He works in vice and violent crimes.
His partner's name is Roger." The bruises on her face were healed,
except for a lingering greenish smudge under the eye that had the
shiner.

"Ma'am, there is no detective here named Tambor or even Don or
Roger. I'm sorry. Maybe one of the other detectives can help you."

Peggy buried her face in her hands. "Oh my God," she sobbed. "Oh
my God, no. That son of a bitch. That dirty Goddamn bastard."

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