The Inspector Who Dared Me to Hurt Her

That afternoon the heat was oppressive at the neighborhood pool, and I had gone down alone, with no plan beyond jumping into the water and letting the hours go by. That was where I saw her, stretched out on a lounger, older than me and with a confidence girls my age still didn’t have. Near her, a little boy was splashing in the shallow end, but that didn’t stop her from starting to talk to me.

We talked for a long while about anything and everything, until she was the one who slipped in the idea of meeting up one afternoon, just the two of us. She said it with a smile that left no room for doubt. I got bold and rested my hand on her knee, gauging her reaction.

Far from pulling away, she put her hand over mine and guided it up her thigh and inward, toward the heat throbbing between her legs. I was still trying to believe my luck when a voice greeted us from behind in a sharp, almost threatening tone.

She turned her head and, the moment she saw who it was, everything changed in an instant. She sprang to her feet and started shouting that I was groping her, that I didn’t even know her, that I’d attacked her. I froze, unable to react, especially since it had been her who had taken my hand to her sex.

The woman who had greeted her turned out to be her sister-in-law, her husband’s sister. The scandal grew within minutes. Naturally, I became the pervert in the story without having done anything, to the point that I got a couple of blows to the back without even seeing who they came from.

It had barely been ten minutes when two plainclothes officers appeared and identified themselves as inspectors, a man and a woman. They asked what had happened and each person gave their version. In the eyes of authority, I was once again the undesirable one, and that liar was the poor victim. They handcuffed me and took me to the station. I was wearing swim trunks and a T-shirt; they didn’t even let me go through the changing room to change.

At the station, it was the female inspector who took my statement. She looked at me for a long time before speaking.

—I’m going to give you the chance to tell the truth —she said, resting her elbows on the table—. Admit what you did. It’s best for you.

—I already told the truth —I replied, holding her gaze—. She’s the one who took my hand. I’m not going to confess to something that didn’t happen.

She was silent for a few seconds. Then she walked around the table, came up to me, and ordered me to stand. I did it, not understanding anything. Without saying a word, she slipped her hand between my legs and grabbed my testicles.

—I’m going to crush them if you don’t tell the truth —she murmured, squeezing.

I stood motionless, holding my breath. The grip, far from buckling me with pain, ignited something inside me in a way I hadn’t expected. With only my swim trunks on, what was happening to me was impossible to hide. She noticed and squeezed harder, and my cock, instead of shrinking, grew until the tip was poking up over the fabric.

She looked me in the eyes for a moment, as if she couldn’t understand what kind of man she had in front of her. Then she let go and slapped me across the face with all her might. She picked up the phone, said two sentences I couldn’t make out, and when she hung up, she told me I could go: there was no complaint. As I gathered my things, I watched her out of the corner of my eye, and I knew, without a doubt, that she was aroused.

***

By chance I ran into her a week later at a bar attached to the entrance of my building. It must have been around eight in the evening and I was drinking a beer with a friend. He got up to go to the bathroom for a moment and she took the opportunity to come over. She touched my shoulder and, when I turned around, I recognized her instantly.

—Still harassing women at the pool? —she asked, with a half-smile.

I turned my back on her without answering, intent on ignoring her. She touched my shoulder again.

—Don’t be vindictive.

—Abusing a badge inside a police station is cowardly —I shot back, facing her—. You’re supposed to stand for the opposite of what you did to me.

She looked at me furiously.

—I’m not wearing a badge here. I’m off duty.

—Then you have no right to bother me —I said, and turned my back on her again.

She hit my shoulder once more, trying to get my attention, and something inside me snapped. I turned instinctively and slapped her hard across the face, making her stagger and nearly fall. She was pushing my patience to the limit, and for a second I thought I’d ruined everything completely.

But she slowly straightened up, one hand on the reddened cheek, and what I saw in her eyes was not anger.

—I loved it —she said softly—. And I realized something at the station. You squeezed me hard and didn’t complain. Quite the opposite.

—Does pain turn you on? —I asked, measuring her.

Her eyes were shining and her breathing had gone uneven.

—Sometimes. Depends on who’s causing it.

I thought she was looking for me, and that she was going to find me. I reached out and pinched one of her breasts through her blouse, slowly, never taking my eyes off her.

—How much pain can you take? —I asked her.

She didn’t move. She endured the pinch looking me in the face while a tear slid down her cheek without her doing anything to stop it.

***

I took her by the hand and led her out into the street. She let herself be led without saying a word. We crossed the entrance and went up to the first floor. I opened the door and we went straight into the living room.

Without a word, I sat down in a chair, pulled her pants and underwear down to her ankles, and folded her over my knees. I started spanking her, one blow after another, and she gave herself over without resisting, only tensing her body at each impact.

When her ass was burning, with the imprint of my fingers marked in places, I slipped my hand between her legs. She was soaked. There was no doubt she was enjoying it. I rubbed her clit and she jolted with a ragged gasp, so I kept going a little more and she came, biting her lips to keep from crying out.

I gave her no respite. I slid two fingers into her, and when I felt her loosen, I added two more. I let a little saliva fall onto her other opening and massaged it until it stopped resisting. I began to penetrate her there with my thumb, slowly, and she had a second orgasm; this time she couldn’t help moaning while her muscles clenched around my fingers.

I turned her around and settled her again over my legs, now face up, her body arched. I pinched her sex and one nipple at the same time, through her blouse, and she gasped again. I gave her nipple a sharp flick with my fingers, seeking her pain, and she arched even more. Without letting her recover, I took her clit with my other hand and squeezed it. I repeated the same thing several times, alternating between one spot and the other, until she came a third time.

I stood her up in front of me and ordered her to strip completely. She obeyed without a word, letting her clothes fall to the floor. I began biting her breasts, tugging at her nipples with my teeth every so often; they were hard as stones. At the same time I took one hand to her sex and the other behind, penetrating her from both sides. Every time I bit a nipple, she opened her body to increase the pressure, asking me in a low voice not to let go.

With her fourth orgasm in less than half an hour, she was exhausted. She was covered in sweat and could barely hold herself up on her legs. I let her kneel and took the opportunity to slide my cock into her mouth. She alternated deep sucking with small, calculated bites, and now and then she pulled back to jerk me off with her hand while she caught her breath.

She put her hands on my chest and began pinching my nipples viciously. I told her she was a fake inspector, that she didn’t have the strength to really hurt me. That was when she dug her nails in deep and I came in her mouth. She tried to spit, but I wouldn’t let her: I held her head and forced her to swallow every last drop.

***

I helped her stand and took her to the bathroom. I put her in the tub, turned on the taps, and waited for the water to warm up. Before directing the shower stream toward her, she reached for me with her hand and held me. I watched her for a moment, still on her knees, offered up, and gave her what she wanted without saying it. Far from pulling away, she moved her body so I could reach her everywhere, eyes closed and smiling.

Then I lathered my hands with soap and washed her slowly, never stopping teasing her each time I ran my hands over her sex or her breasts. By the time I finished rinsing her off, I was aroused again.

I got into the tub with her and raised her enough for her to wrap her legs around my hips. I probed the entrance to her sex with the tip and pushed until I sank all the way in. She leaned back against the edge and played with my nipples while I set the rhythm.

I tried to pull out before finishing, but she stopped me by locking her legs around me and digging her nails into me again as she rocked against me. When she felt me come, she had her last orgasm, her whole body trembling against mine.

We dried off in silence and went back to the living room. She picked up her clothes from the floor, dressed without hurry, and before leaving she gave me a soft kiss on the lips. She didn’t say a single word. She closed the door behind her and disappeared just as she had arrived, leaving me with the certainty that this would not be the last time.