Carl Slater, one of the most promising young prosecutors to come out of Harvard Law in the past decade, had suddenly had an epiphany. His first few cases had been open and shut; the defendants were guilty, there was no gray area, and justice was served. Then one day, a young man came through the courtroom, protesting his innocence, with a good alibi. Despite this, the police and his superiors in the prosecutors office worked round the clock to make a case against this man, to make an example of him. Carl, of course, did what he could to bolster the case, but as he studied the evidence, he found seeds of corruption in his office.
When it had been but a mock trial in school, all the gray area seemed to disappear; now, with a young man's life in the balance, and evidence of several other lives having been destroyed by overzealous prosecution found in his research, it all became real, somehow. What was worse was that the defense attorneys also seemed to be more interested in making examples and garnering media attention than ensuring that justice was done. Knowing this, Carl made sure that the man went free, also knowing full well that his career would be over, almost before it began. He left his office that August afternoon, however, with a clear conscience. Walking proudly, head held high, assured in the rightness of what he had done, he went off to find a new way to help the innocent and to ensure that the guilty were punished for their crimes. No one in the office would meet his eyes, whether through shame in themselves for not being able to stand up to the system, or through anger that he had the gall to throw sand into their works, he did not know, nor care. No one else's opinion mattered to him. He knew that he would have the support of the love of his life, his Maria.
When he arrived at their shared apartment, he knew immediately that something was wrong. The door, which was always locked when he left in the mornings and when he returned in the evenings, at Maria's insistence, was not only unlocked, but slightly ajar. Concerned, he pushed open the door, calling her name. There was no response, just some thumping from the bedroom. As he came closer, he heard screams. They gradually got louder and louder. In a panic, he began to run, and burst through the bedroom door. The sight that greeted him broke his heart.
"You're my little bitch, aren't you Maria? You like it when I force you, don't you? Don't you?" These words came from Carl's best friend Derek, as he was plunging into Maria from behind, with her bent over the end of the bed. He had a handful of her hair, and was wrenching her neck cruelly back, and his face was right up against her ear.
To Carl's shock, his beautiful girlfriend's face broke into a mask of ecstasy, not the fear and pain she must be feeling.
"Yes, Master! You know only you can give it to me right. Carl is too much of a gentleman. He refuses to even consider my desire to be punished like the bad little slut that I am. It is your cock, and only yours, that can fulfill me."
"Damn right it is, whore! You know you're my slave. You'll do anything for me, won't you, slut?"
"OH! OH! Oh yes, Master! Anything!" Carl could only watch in horrified shock as his best friend for eight years brutalized his high school sweetheart.
"NO! I can't believe it! How could you betray me like this?!" Carl shouted at both of them, who had been so lost in their own activities that they hadn't even noticed him yet.
Without pausing in his furious pumping, Derek simply looked at Carl, flashed an evil smile, and pulled again on Maria's dark hair, eliciting a scream of ecstasy from her. She, in turn, as casually as could be, given the situation, turned her head, flashed a canine grin, and flipped him off. "You have been so blind, Carl. Ungh! I've hinted, I've left notes, I've even begged! You would not punish me like I needed to be, so I found someone who would." At this, Derek slapped her ass hard. "It's been going on for three years now, Carl. I'd think that someone as (gasp) perceptive as you would have figured it out by now."
"I..." Carl had no words. In anguish, he turned around and walked from the building.
He didn't walk far, however. A couple of blocks away, he heard a young woman scream from an alleyway. Hoping he wasn't too late to do something, he broke into a run. When he arrived, he saw a large man with his hand around the wrist of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Something about her made him want to throw himself at her feet. In a blind fury, all of the emotions of the day welling out of him at once, he charged at the man, who immediately let go of the woman, and expertly flung Carl headfirst into a brick wall. Before he lost consciousness, he felt the man aim three kicks--two to the backs of his legs, and one at the arm he was holding himself up with. Not being an expert in such matters, he didn't know, but he was certain that he felt the bones break. After that, all was blackness.
*****
Some indeterminate time later, he wakes to someone applying a cold compress to his forehead. It takes a few moments for his head to clear, and when it does, he finds himself looking into a pair of sparkling emerald eyes. Mesmerised by the sight, it takes a moment for her voice to register, and at first it is only as the music of tinkling bells to his ears.
"I said, welcome back. I knew you wouldn't fail me. I'm sorry about the pain, but it will all go away soon." With these words, he realizes that he is, in fact, in immense pain. His bones have been expertly set, but they have not been cast. In fact, he is embarrassingly naked, covered only by a thin sheet.
His embarrassment does not last long, however, as the woman smiles now, and a light seems to come on in the dim room. She has long wavy red hair which falls down past her shoulders, framing a soft, sparsely freckled face. Her eyes glow with a wisdom beyond her apparent age. Her full red lips shine as though glossed, though it is clear their color was natural. He is again hypnotized by her beauty.
"You have been selected to receive a very rare gift, Carl. I think it is time it is given to you." With this, she removes the simple sun dress she is wearing, revealing a perfectly proportioned, lithe body. The woman could walk onto any catwalk and have a guaranteed contract. Flipping back the sheet, she crawls into bed beside him. "I see that you are ready to release some of that frustration. Why don't I help you with that?" Reaching down, she begins to gently run her fingers along his legs, and then around his groin, not yet touching his rapidly stiffening member. "You are definitely ready. Just lay back and relax. I will take care of everything, just this once."
Suddenly, she springs catlike atop him, gently mounting him, guiding his stiff member into her. Slowly, she begins to rock back and forth, sliding slightly up, and then back down, gradually picking up the pace. She reaches down, and, grabbing his unbroken arm, raises it to her breast, insisting that he squeeze and knead. Unable to resist her amazing body, he does so, first squeezing the breast, and then pulling back, slowly, until only his fingertips touch her skin. This process repeats, with alternating kneading of the breast and light caressing of the nipple, until it is rock hard. Raising his other hand, too lost in the moment to notice the pain, he begins the same process with her other breast. Finally, as her rocking and bucking reach a crescendo, he reaches up with both arms, and pulls her face to his, kissing her with a passion he has never felt before. After his release, he holds her in his arms for what seems like hours, but is truly only moments, as, despite their best efforts, he cannot remain rigid very long.
