The Trio Nobody Was Supposed to Know About: Two Officers and Their Prisoner

Commissioner Héctor Medina dropped a folder onto the desk and looked at them over his reading glasses. Cold fluorescent light, coffee gone cold in the cups, and that same old feeling: that the decisions made here were never simple.

—This afternoon we’re transferring Rodrigo Villalba to Los Pinos Penitentiary —he announced without looking up from the papers—. Scientific. Linked to high-profile criminal organizations. Two-hour route on secondary roads. You two take the first vehicle.

Officers Valeria Reyes and Mónica Torres were standing in front of the desk, uniforms immaculate, eyes fixed ahead. They had spent months requesting this kind of assignment.

—You won’t be going alone —Medina continued, taking off his glasses—. Officers Ramiro and Ernesto will escort ten meters behind in the second cruiser. If the detainee tries anything, you have full authorization. Any questions?

There were no questions. The two officers nodded and left.

What Medina didn’t know was that Rodrigo Villalba had had a serious problem for hours. His lawyer Ignacio, who had proven efficient at many things, had made the worst mistake of his career that Tuesday: instead of the sedative gas device Rodrigo had asked for to facilitate his escape during the transfer, he had handed him the pheromone prototype Rodrigo himself had spent years developing in his underground laboratory. A compound designed to disable the inhibitions of desire in anyone who inhaled it, an airborne aphrodisiac capable of turning the most disciplined woman into a female in heat in a matter of seconds.

Rodrigo discovered it when he read the cylinder’s markings in the cell, as the guard turned his head for a moment. There was no time to change the plan. Only time to adapt to the one he had.

It’s not what I asked for, but it’ll work just as well. Better, even.

***

The convoy left the station at four in the afternoon. Valeria drove with both hands on the wheel and her eyes fixed on the road, which was beginning to narrow between rows of pines. Mónica watched the detainee in the rearview mirror, one hand near her belt. Rodrigo looked at the landscape through the window with the calm of someone who already knows how the story ends.

The secondary road was deserted. Ten meters behind, the second cruiser kept pace in silence. Ramiro drove with one relaxed hand on the wheel; Ernesto looked at his phone. For them, it was a routine transfer.

—How much longer? —Rodrigo asked from the back seat, with a tone that was almost bored.

—Prisoners don’t ask questions —Mónica replied without looking at him.

—What a shame —he said.

And he pressed the button on the cylinder hidden in the hem of his coveralls.

The hiss was almost imperceptible. A thick, pinkish mist burst from the device and spread through the cabin in less than two seconds, filling the entire interior. Mónica turned her head, saw the smoke, and opened her mouth to scream, but she was already inhaling. The first effect was not dizziness or loss of consciousness: it was heat. Heat that started in her lungs and plunged with cruel speed into her chest, into her abdomen, into the insides of her thighs, with a precision more disturbing than any physical pain. She felt her nipples harden under the tactical bra, felt her cunt begin to soak the regulation underwear, felt the uniform pants cling to her soaked groin within seconds.

Valeria felt her fingers burn on the steering wheel. She felt the clothes weigh on her in a way she had never noticed before, as if every centimeter of fabric was too much. A hot current slid from her belly to her sex and pried her lips apart from the inside, throbbing, demanding. She clenched her thighs against the seat and an involuntary moan escaped through her nose.

—Valeria... —Mónica murmured from the passenger seat, with a voice that sounded thick, foreign to herself—. Something’s... soaking me...

Valeria turned her head for an instant toward her partner. She saw Mónica’s nipples outlined under her shirt, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted. That instant was enough: the cruiser jumped the edge of the road, crushed two meters of tall grass, and plunged into the bushes with a crack of branches. The tires skidded over the wet earth and the vehicle came to a sudden stop in a clearing beside a small lagoon, ringed with pines. The engine cut off by itself. The radio gave a burst of static and fell silent.

The forest was absolutely silent.

***

They got out of the car with almost no coordination, as if their bodies were acting on their own. They opened the back door and pulled Rodrigo out. He stepped out without resistance and let himself be forced to his knees in the grass with his hands cuffed in front.

What the officers didn’t know was that in the chaos of the smoke, when Mónica had tried to turn toward him, Rodrigo had taken the cuff keys from her belt with a movement she never noticed.

—What did you give us? —Valeria asked, aiming her weapon at him. Her hand trembled. It wasn’t fear. Her cunt was so soaked she could feel a trail running down her thigh inside her pants.

—Nothing dangerous —Rodrigo said, looking up at her with a calm that was infuriating—. Just a compound that removes the filters. What you’re feeling now is exactly what you’re feeling, with no layers on top. No uniform. No hierarchy. No obligation to pretend you’re not dying for a good fucking.

—Shut your mouth —Mónica said. But she didn’t aim. And beneath her tactical pants she felt her clit pounding like a second heart.

Rodrigo watched them in silence. The rosy scent of the compound was clinging to their uniforms like an invisible perfume. Both pupils were dilated. Their breathing was shallow and faster than normal. Mónica rubbed her thighs together without realizing it and let out a small gasp.

—Put the weapons down —he said, his voice lower now—. You don’t need them here. What you need is between your legs, and I’m going to give it to you.

Mónica was the first to let go of her pistol. The metal hit the grass with a dull sound. Valeria looked at her in horror, and in that look there was already something that was not just horror: it was recognition. She let hers go too.

Rodrigo removed his cuffs calmly and stood in front of them. Under the detainee coveralls, his cock was already hard and outlined against the fabric.

***

The heat the compound generated made no distinction between one and the other. With Mónica, who was dark-haired and wore her hair tied back in a tight knot, it reached the nape of her neck first and slid down her spine until it sank into her cunt. With Valeria, blonde and fair-skinned, it hit her chest, a persistent tingling that hardened her nipples against the black bra and pushed them outward.

They looked at each other. It was Mónica who moved first.

She took Valeria’s face in both hands and kissed her. It was not soft or calculated: it was urgent, almost clumsy, as if the bodies were moving faster than the decisions. Valeria took a second to respond, but when she did, it was without reserve: she parted her lips, let her partner’s tongue in, and sucked it with the same desperation. The kiss started off clumsy, uncoordinated, and then became deep and sustained, saliva mixing, teeth biting lips, two tongues fighting inside one mouth.

—I’m soaking wet —Mónica panted against Valeria’s mouth—. I can’t take it, Vale, I can’t take it anymore...

—Me neither —the other answered, grabbing her ass over the tactical pants—. I need you to touch me, I need something inside, anything...

Rodrigo leaned against the cruiser’s hood and watched them without hurrying, stroking his cock over the coveralls.

Mónica’s hands found the buttons of Valeria’s uniform. The sound of the tactical fasteners unzipping mixed with the birds and the still water of the lagoon. The belts fell to the grass. Then the vests. Valeria helped Mónica with hers, and the two were left in their underwear, skin exposed to the afternoon sun, gasping against the cruiser’s bodywork. Mónica yanked Valeria’s black bra down and two white, round breasts, with pink nipples hard as little stones, sprang out into the open. She bent and sucked one with her mouth wide, drawing hard, while pinching the other between her index finger and thumb.

—That’s it —Rodrigo said quietly—. Suck her tits. Let the blonde give them to you properly.

Valeria moaned loudly and grabbed Mónica’s head, shoving it against her chest. Mónica lowered her mouth down her neck, her collarbone, her sternum, until she reached her navel. She slipped a hand into her tactical pants, went over the soaked panties, and at the first touch on her clit Valeria arched against the hot metal of the car with her eyes closed.

—You’re dripping —Mónica murmured, her mouth pressed to her partner’s belly—. You’re dripping, Vale, you’re a river...

—Fuck me, please —Valeria begged, her voice breaking—. Do something, anything, but do something to me now.

Rodrigo came closer. He put his hands on Mónica’s hips from behind and drew her toward him. She turned and kissed him before he finished the movement: she grabbed the coverall shirt in her fingers and shoved her tongue into his mouth with a force that pleased him more than anything he had anticipated. She reached down and grabbed his cock over the fabric.

—You’re hard —she said, panting—. You’re really hard, you son of a bitch...

—For you —he answered—. For both of you.

With Valeria bent over the hood waiting, tits out and her pants already halfway down, Rodrigo unbuckled Mónica’s belt with one hand while kissing her. The tactical fabric of the pants fell to the grass. He slowly pulled down her white bra, exposing two brown breasts with dark, huge nipples, already hardened by the compound. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked it long and hard, nibbling it slightly, while lowering her panties over her hips. Mónica’s cunt gleamed, swollen, soaked with a thick fluid that ran down the insides of her thighs. Rodrigo drove two fingers into her in one thrust and she threw her head back, letting out a scream that tore through the forest’s silence.

—Ah, yes, yes, yes! —Mónica moaned—. Deeper, deeper, give me more...

***

What followed lasted more than an hour and respected no preset order.

Rodrigo took them wherever he wanted, but without having to force anything: the compound made every instruction of his sound like the only possible option. First Valeria, standing against the hood with her legs open and Mónica’s fingers working inside her. Mónica slid three fingers all the way in and curved them toward the roof of Valeria’s cunt, searching for the exact spot, while with her thumb she rubbed the clit in slow circles. Valeria started riding her hand, moving her hips forward and back, her tits swaying and her eyes rolling white.

—I’m going to come, I’m going to come, don’t stop, Móni, don’t stop...

—Come —Rodrigo ordered from the side, watching them—. Make your partner come in your hand.

Valeria screamed. Her cunt contracted in spasms around Mónica’s fingers and a gush of fluid burst downward, soaking her wrist, dripping to her elbow. Mónica didn’t pull her hand out: she kept it inside, feeling Valeria’s sex squeeze her fingers rhythmically.

Then Mónica, kneeling in the grass with Rodrigo’s mouth on her while Valeria held her by the hair from behind, unable to look away from the scene. Mónica opened her mouth and Rodrigo shoved his cock in, all the way to the back of her throat. She coughed, tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t pull back: she closed her lips around his shaft and began to suck, her head moving back and forth, one hand at the base, the other on his balls. She sucked his cock with a hunger she didn’t recognize in herself, strings of saliva hanging from her chin, moaning every time he grabbed her head and pushed deeper.

—Look at her, Valeria —Rodrigo said—. Look how your partner sucks your cock. Look how she swallows it.

Valeria, still trembling from the previous orgasm, knelt beside Mónica and helped: she licked Rodrigo’s balls while Mónica kept his cock in her mouth. Their two tongues met at the base, touched, twined. Rodrigo moaned with his eyes closed, grabbing both of them by the hair with each hand.

—Both of you —he panted—. I want both of you to suck it at the same time.

Mónica pulled the cock out of her mouth and held it sideways against Valeria’s cheek. Valeria opened her mouth and took it in herself now, all the way in. Mónica sucked one ball, then the other, then worked her way up the shaft licking it like an ice cream while Valeria had it inside her. When one grew tired, the other took over.

Then the three of them together, in a way none of them could have described precisely but that was perfect anyway.

Rodrigo entered Mónica from behind with a slow, deliberate movement that made her let out a long moan against Valeria’s skin, as Valeria lay on her back on the hot hood with her legs open and her cunt level with Mónica’s face. Mónica buried her tongue between Valeria’s wet lips, sucked her clit with her lips, and slid her tongue deep inside while Rodrigo fucked her ass at a rhythm that made the cruiser creak with each thrust.

—Fuck her harder —Valeria shouted, her hands tangled in Mónica’s hair, pressing her face against her cunt—. Fuck her good, Rodrigo, make her come.

—Just like that, Móni —Valeria moaned at the same time—. Just like that with your tongue, don’t stop, suck me, suck my cunt...

The rhythm they built was irregular at first and then settled into something more sustained, almost mechanical. Rodrigo’s cock went in and out of Mónica’s cunt with a wet, loud sound, while Mónica’s tongue worked inside Valeria at the same cadence. Each thrust from Rodrigo pushed Mónica’s face deeper into her partner’s sex. Valeria held on to Mónica by the shoulders, her nails marking her brown skin, unable to do anything but take it.

Rodrigo didn’t need to impose himself with his voice to feel he had control. He had it in the details: in how he took one by the hair to change the angle, in how he slid the free hand along the other’s side to wordlessly tell her to turn, to wait, to keep going. The two officers obeyed with a fluidity the compound facilitated, but that was real too: the desire behind the gas was genuine, only uninhibited.

There was a moment when Rodrigo changed positions. He pulled his cock out of Mónica’s cunt with an obscene sound—it gleamed wet, covered in her juices—and made her sit on the grass, her back against the cruiser’s wheel. He stood in front of her and Mónica took him in her mouth without needing to be asked, sucking her own juices off his cock, with Valeria kneeling beside her, hands on Rodrigo’s hips, guiding the rhythm. The two mouths took turns and sometimes met: when Mónica pulled his cock out, Valeria took it; when Valeria let go, Mónica went back in. Sometimes both tongues licked it at once, one from each side, and they kissed with his cock between them. The sound of that scene in the forest silence was more obscene than anything Rodrigo had planned in the lab.

Valeria touched Mónica while doing this: tracing her back with her nails, squeezing her brown tits, pinching her nipples, sliding a hand between her legs and driving two fingers into her cunt. Mónica answered with a moan against Rodrigo’s cock that vibrated in her chest like an electric shock.

—I’m going to come —Mónica panted, pulling the cock from her mouth for a second—. I’m about to come from your fingers...

—Hold on —Rodrigo said—. You come when I say.

But Valeria didn’t stop: she curved her fingers inside, rubbed the clit with her thumb, and Mónica came against her partner’s hand with her mouth still pressed to Rodrigo’s cock, stifling a scream. Valeria pulled out her wet fingers and licked each one in turn, looking her in the eye.

Rodrigo made them switch places. He laid Valeria on the hood, spread her legs and thrust his cock into her cunt in one motion while Mónica kissed her mouth, their bodies tangled over the hood. Valeria screamed when she felt him inside—he was thicker than she expected, filling her completely—and clutched Mónica’s hair so she wouldn’t let go.

—He’s hard, Móni —Valeria panted against her partner’s mouth—. He’s rock hard, he’s filling me up...

—I know —Mónica answered, sliding a hand between her legs, rubbing her clit to the rhythm of Rodrigo fucking her—. I saw him go in. I saw you take all of him.

Valeria’s white skin contrasted with Mónica’s brown hands, which moved over her without stopping, biting her nipples, kissing her neck, and with Rodrigo’s hands, which squeezed both their hips in turn as if he wanted to leave a physical mark of the control the gas had given him. Mónica climbed onto the hood beside Valeria, legs spread, and brought her cunt to her face. Valeria, without stopping the thrusts Rodrigo kept giving her, stuck out her tongue and returned the favor: she began to eat Mónica’s sex from below, voraciously, while Rodrigo kept fucking her from underneath.

The air in the clearing was charged with the sweet scent of the compound, mixed with wet earth and the smell of sex from three bodies in tension. The birds had gone silent. The lagoon reflected the sky without moving. The sound was a mix of moans, flesh against flesh, Valeria’s cunt taking Rodrigo’s cock with a wet slap that could be heard meters away, and Valeria’s tongue lost in Mónica’s soaked sex.

—I’m going to come again —Valeria moaned between Mónica’s legs—. Móni, Rodrigo, I’m coming, I’m coming...

Rodrigo fucked her harder, gripping her by the hips, driving his cock all the way in with each thrust. Valeria came with her tongue inside Mónica’s cunt, screaming against her, shaking all over. Mónica’s orgasm followed right on top of hers, almost without a gap, spilling into her partner’s mouth.

When Rodrigo reached his limit, he pulled his cock out of Valeria’s cunt—it gleamed, swollen, on the verge—and made them both kneel in the grass, side by side, mouths open. He stroked himself twice and came over both of them: the first thick spurt splattered Valeria’s blonde hair and ran down her forehead, the second stained Mónica’s brown breasts, the third and fourth spread between their two faces, between their parted lips, between their tongues hanging out. The officers stayed kneeling for a second, panting, semen dripping down their cheeks, and then they looked at each other and kissed with Rodrigo’s cum mixing in both their mouths.

He let himself fall back onto the hood, panting, eyes closed, convinced the world belonged to him.

***

The first to recover was Mónica.

It wasn’t dramatic. It was a blink, one deeper breath than the ones before, and suddenly the world had clear contours again. She saw Rodrigo lying in the grass with the smug smile of someone who thinks he’s won. She saw Valeria beside her, beginning to come out of the trance, hair stuck to her face, her skin still smeared. She saw her uniform tossed three meters away. Her weapons five meters away. The cruiser with its doors open. She saw the dried semen on her own tits and rage rose in her so fast it wiped out the compound’s heat in one blow.

She felt around the ground without making a sound. Her fingers found a stone the size of her fist, sharp on one edge. She stood up slowly, walked over to Rodrigo, and slammed it into his temple.

The sound was dry and final. Rodrigo collapsed to one side without saying a word.

—Valeria —Mónica said, with a voice that was once again her own—. Get up. Now.

Valeria blinked, looked around, and sat in the grass. Horror arrived slowly, in layers. She looked at her own naked body, the dried semen between her breasts, her sticky thighs. She looked at Rodrigo unconscious on the ground, looked at Mónica already searching for the cuffs among the scattered gear.

—What did we...? —she began.

—That device drugged us —Mónica said with a coldness that was pure survival—. It wasn’t us. It was the gas. But nobody can know this. Understand?

Valeria nodded. She didn’t need any more explanation.

They dressed in silence, with quick, mechanical movements. They cleaned what they could with their uniform shirts, rubbing the skin until it reddened, wiping away traces of the cum with saliva and grass. They dragged Rodrigo toward the cruiser, half-dressed him, and closed the cuffs with a pressure that cut off circulation. Valeria found the car keys in the grass and started the engine on the third try. Mónica called in over the radio.

When the second cruiser’s sirens appeared between the trees with blue and red lights turning, both officers were standing beside the car, uniforms straight and faces composed.

—What happened? —Ramiro shouted from the window—. We lost the signal and the trail of the first vehicle.

—Villalba had a hidden device —Valeria said, with a calm she herself didn’t fully understand—. Tear gas. The car swerved for a moment but we got it under control. He tried to get out of the cruiser while it was moving and had to be struck. He’s alive and cuffed.

Ernesto looked at Rodrigo unconscious in the back seat, with a thin cut on his temple. He looked at the two officers: the uniforms slightly rumpled, their faces flushed, a barely visible bite mark on Mónica’s neck. That could be explained in many ways.

—Are you okay? —he asked.

—Perfectly —Mónica said.

***

The handoff at Los Pinos took fifteen minutes. The authorities received the detainee on a stretcher, checked the forms, and didn’t ask about the blow to the temple: in that facility, prisoners often arrived injured enough that nobody lifted their eyes from the paperwork.

On the way back, Rodrigo regained consciousness and decided to try one last move.

—We had a great time, huh? —he murmured from the back seat, his voice still thick—. I told you we were going to have fun... How you sucked me, how you screamed when I fucked you...

—One more word —Mónica said without looking at him, her voice completely flat—, and the report says you tried to escape. On these roads, that has consequences you won’t like. Clear?

Rodrigo said nothing else.

Back at headquarters, Commissioner Medina greeted them with a handshake and a satisfied smile. He told them it had been a clean operation, that their names would go into the record as an example, that they had the rest of the day off.

Valeria and Mónica went out together to the parking lot. Outside, the sun had already dropped behind the buildings. They stood for a moment beside the cruiser, not speaking.

—Are you okay? —Valeria asked at last.

Mónica took a while to answer.

—I’m going to be okay —she said—. In time.

They got into the car and drove off. The lagoon was forty kilometers from there, silent among the pines, keeping what neither of them would ever name.