Fic: Long Weekend (1/3)
Title: Long Weekend
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: NC-17 for sex.
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: A sequel to To Protect and Serve. I hadn't really planned on one, but since there was requests, well, in the words of Diamond Joe Quimby: "If that is the way the wind is blowing, let it not be said that I do not also blow!"
WARNINGS: Non-Consensual (Roleplay), Rough Sex, Humiliation
Rachel was as good as her word - for almost two hours, according to the bedside clock, Quinn lay on their bed alone, her jaw getting sore around the panties that she didn’t dare spit out and her arms stiffening in their outstretched position. But the delay didn’t bother her - in fact, it made the experience all the better. This was what she’d fantasised about, after all - having someone just take her, just use her in any and every way they wanted with utter disdain for what she wanted or needed. It had been purely a fantasy, though - she’d been far too embarrassed to ever ask Rachel to help fulfill it, and so she’d only ever gotten vicarious thrills from the internet. But now she’d been discovered, and Rachel seemed to be determined to give her what she wanted, with her usual enthusiasm and dedication. In fact, Quinn thought idly, if Rachel brought her usual work ethic to the task, it may be a very long weekend indeed.
Her thoughts strayed to her pleasantly aching nether regions, and she pulled idly at the steel cuffs to listen to the jingle of the chain against the headboard. She wriggled happily, wishing desperately that she could touch herself - and of course, it was that moment that Rachel chose to stride into the bedroom, still dressed in her police uniform (sans sunglasses) and wearing an intense HBIC smirk. She also carried three small unmarked shopping bags.
“You little slut,” she scolded Quinn, slapping her breast hard enough to make her gasp. “You didn’t get enough earlier?” She waited, but Quinn wasn’t sure if she should answer, so she didn’t. Rachel slapped her other breast, and she cried out around her mouthful of sodden cotton. “I asked you a question! Did you get enough earlier?” Quinn shook her head no, and Rachel’s smirk slipped, just for a second, into a genuine smile before she turned away to root in one of her bags. She emerged with a unique leather gag - there was a ball on one side of the panel, obviously meant for Quinn’s mouth, and on the other was a black dildo about six inches long. Rachel took a set of keys from her belt and unlocked Quinn’s hands, pulling her roughly into a sitting position. She held out a hand. “Spit.” Quinn’s tongue barely worked, she found, but she managed to deposit her underwear in Rachel’s hand, where it was promptly thrown across the room.
There was no gentle consolation as she worked her stiff jaw, just disdain as Rachel jerked her head down and shoved the gag into her mouth, buckling it so tightly that the strap cut uncomfortably into her cheeks. “Hands behind your back,” she demanded, and Quinn complied. Her hands were roughly cuffed, again, and she was shoved backward onto the mattress. “Now,” Rachel said, standing up and stripping out of her impossibly tight pants, “let’s see if there’s anything you can do properly.” She stepped out of the tiny thong she wore and Quinn groaned at the sight of her glistening sex. Rachel clambered onto the bed and positioned herself over Quinn’s face, lowering herself onto the dildo with a soft sigh. “You stay still,” she warned, giving Quinn’s cheek a warning tap.
It was torture, in the sweetest of possible ways. Quinn watched, wide-eyed, as Rachel fucked herself with the black phallus, her open pussy dripping onto the panel of her gag. She was so close and Quinn couldn’t touch her, couldn’t taste her sweetness, could only watch and inhale the scent of her, watch the taut muscles of her abdomen as she moved up and down, hear the soft noises that meant an orgasm was close - and then nearly weep with frustration as Rachel came, feeling the hot, sweet come drip onto her cheeks. She whimpered, wriggled and tested the handcuffs, and Rachel sat contently on her face with a smirk.
“Well,” she said, when she tired of that, “I think it’s dinner time. I got special permission from the judge for you to do a bit of manual work while you’re incarcerated.” She eased herself off the dildo and pulled Quinn roughly to her feet, removing the gag and the handcuffs and throwing them aside.
“Rach, please,” Quinn couldn’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, but she knew instantly that they were a mistake. Rachel’s face hardened, and she reached down for the thong she’d previously discarded. She shoved it roughly into Quinn’s mouth and sealed her lips with a piece of silver tape retrieved from one of her shopping bags.
“First of all,” she circled Quinn, who knew better than to move, and slapped her ass hard enough to leave a red mark, “I didn’t give you permission to speak to me. Second of all,” another slap, “if I ever do, you’ll address me as Officer Berry. Clear?” Quinn nodded frantically. “Good,” a final slap punctuated her point. “Now,” she grabbed something else from the bags, something that clinked together. She turned to Quinn with a wicked smile and brandished a set of restraints - two handcuffs connected by a short chain to two ankle cuffs. Quinn held out her hands obediently and Rachel cuffed them before cuffing her ankles as well. Quinn tested the chains experimentally, and found she could raise her hands no higher than her waist and move her ankles no more than a few inches apart.
“Very good,” Rachel admired her handiwork. “Now, get in the kitchen. I’ll expect dinner in twenty minutes.” Quinn balked - there was a large window in the kitchen, and she had no way of knowing, in her current mood, if Rachel had bothered closing it. Rachel picked up on her hesitation. “That wasn’t a request. If you ever want to get out of here, you’ll move your ass. Now!” she shouted, and Quinn - completely nude and red-faced - walked in tiny shuffling steps into the kitchen, her chains clinking with each step.
To her great relief, the blinds were closed tightly - but Rachel had chosen to torture her in another way, she discovered. All of the things she’d need to cook with were moved onto the highest shelves, where she had no chance of retrieving them. She tried, nearly weeping with frustration, but in the end all she managed was to break a plate as she pulled it off the counter. Rachel sauntered out ten minutes later, shaking her head. “God,” she groaned. “You really are only good for getting fucked, aren’t you? It’s no wonder you ended up here.” She grabbed Quinn’s chains and dragged her to the kitchen table, bending her over it. “Might as well make use of you, then.” Quinn felt the strap-on pressing against her sex, and spread her legs as much as the chains would allow. The angle was awkward, but she was desperate to make it work. Rachel was fast, and rough, and pulled out just seconds before Quinn could climax. She screamed into the tape, slapping a hand on the table in utter frustration.
Rachel chuckled dryly. “Aww, is my whore getting frustrated? Wishing I’d just let you come?”
Quinn nodded, even though she was sure the question was rhetorical.
“Good,” Rachel laughed. “That should remind you of your place. You’re mine, and you’ll come when I let you! You’re here to service me, not the other way around.” She unbuckled the strap-on and tossed it aside, climbing onto the table wearing just her uniform top. She put a leg on each of Quinn’s shoulders. “As much as I hesitate to let your filthy tongue touch me, you’re going to eat me out. Take the gag off.” It took some contortions, but Quinn managed. Her fingers strayed toward her sex, but Rachel gave her hair a hard tug, making her eyes water. “Attention where it belongs, slut.” She didn’t relinquish her grip on Quinn’s blonde locks, but used it to guide her face where she wanted it. Her legs wrapped tightly around her head, and she knew she wasn’t escaping until Rachel decided she would.
It was what she’d been willing to beg for earlier - her tongue probed deeply into Rachel’s folds, tasting the indescribable flavour of her, tracing intricate patterns that made Rachel whimper above her. When she knew that the other girl was close, Quinn’s lips latched onto her clit and she sucked gently until Rachel drenched her face with come. She licked her lips, feeling her own clit throbbing achingly between her legs, and Rachel climbed down from the table.
“Well,” she cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll make dinner, seeing as how you’re too useless to manage. Kneel on the floor right where you are. If I see your fingers anywhere near your hole, I’ll make sure you’re here until you’re fifty and you never come once, do you understand me?”
Quinn nodded, sinking to her knees. It took every ounce of willpower in her body to keep her hands at waist-level, and she could feel hot tears of frustration running down her cheeks, but she managed. Before she knew that the time had elapsed, Rachel dropped a plate of food on the floor in front of her. “Give me your hands,” she demanded, and unlocked them. Quinn reached for the plate, but Rachel pulled her arms behind her instead. She reached between Quinn’s legs, brushing her clit with a cruel finger, and pulled the chain that connected her feet and wrists between her legs to cuff her hands behind her back. Quinn looked pleadingly at her.
“Don’t give me that look. This is prison, not the Ritz. You’re good with your mouth, I’m sure you can take care of it. I’m going to watch television - I’ll be back to collect your plate.” She left Quinn there, and she stared forlornly at the dinner in front of her. Rachel’s demand that she eat like a dog, stuffing her face into the food, was utterly humiliating - and it somehow made her sex ache even more than it had been already. She leaned forward carefully, lapping up peas and carrots, then moving on to the steak - at least Rachel had been merciful enough to cut it into strips.
She was finished long before Rachel came back, and her desperate need to come overcame her. She leaned back, trying to contort herself enough to reach her dripping pussy, but the chains frustrated her efforts. She leaned too far back the final time, and fell over backward. Rachel emerged from the living room with a dangerous smile.
“I knew you couldn’t be trusted. Fine. From now until the end of your sentence, your hands are going to be kept out of the way.”
“Officer Berry?” Quinn asked quietly. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Do you?” Rachel sneered. “And is there some reason I should let you?”
Quinn wanted to protest, to beg, but she was finally beginning to learn the rules of her captivity, and knew that neither of those would do much good. “Because I’ll be a good whore for you, Officer Berry?” she licked her lips, and Rachel nodded approvingly.
“Yes, you will.” She pulled Quinn to her feet and marched her down the hall, unlocking her hands as they reached the bathroom. Quinn walked in and pushed the door closed - or would have, if Rachel hadn’t held it. “This is prison, slut, there’s no privacy here.”
Quinn blushed deep red all over her body. They’d seen every part of each other, of course, but Quinn had always been fanatical in her resistance to using the bathroom in front of her wife. But Rachel was unyielding, and Quinn had no choice. She emerged in the end with her head down, taking shuffling steps. Rachel ushered her into the bedroom, all but throwing her on the bed.
“Time to make good on your promise.” Quinn did, licking and sucking and curling her tongue just so until Rachel came with a scream. There was no post-coital cuddling, though, only Rachel pulling her toward the head of the bed and tying her hands to the bedposts with nylon rope. Her smirk made Quinn worry, and her worries were borne out when Rachel slid a small silver egg into her sex. It shuddered to life, and she nearly wept with joy - and then with frustration as it stopped again.
“I should explain,” Rachel nodded. “It’s time for lights out. That egg’s going to come on every half hour, for just about that long. I’ll be sleeping in the other room - don’t wake me, or you’re going to regret it. Okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she planted a soft kiss on Quinn’s lips and walked out, putting a bit of extra sway in her hips.
Yes, Quinn, mused, it would be a very long weekend after all.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: NC-17 for sex.
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: A sequel to To Protect and Serve. I hadn't really planned on one, but since there was requests, well, in the words of Diamond Joe Quimby: "If that is the way the wind is blowing, let it not be said that I do not also blow!"
WARNINGS: Non-Consensual (Roleplay), Rough Sex, Humiliation
Rachel was as good as her word - for almost two hours, according to the bedside clock, Quinn lay on their bed alone, her jaw getting sore around the panties that she didn’t dare spit out and her arms stiffening in their outstretched position. But the delay didn’t bother her - in fact, it made the experience all the better. This was what she’d fantasised about, after all - having someone just take her, just use her in any and every way they wanted with utter disdain for what she wanted or needed. It had been purely a fantasy, though - she’d been far too embarrassed to ever ask Rachel to help fulfill it, and so she’d only ever gotten vicarious thrills from the internet. But now she’d been discovered, and Rachel seemed to be determined to give her what she wanted, with her usual enthusiasm and dedication. In fact, Quinn thought idly, if Rachel brought her usual work ethic to the task, it may be a very long weekend indeed.
Her thoughts strayed to her pleasantly aching nether regions, and she pulled idly at the steel cuffs to listen to the jingle of the chain against the headboard. She wriggled happily, wishing desperately that she could touch herself - and of course, it was that moment that Rachel chose to stride into the bedroom, still dressed in her police uniform (sans sunglasses) and wearing an intense HBIC smirk. She also carried three small unmarked shopping bags.
“You little slut,” she scolded Quinn, slapping her breast hard enough to make her gasp. “You didn’t get enough earlier?” She waited, but Quinn wasn’t sure if she should answer, so she didn’t. Rachel slapped her other breast, and she cried out around her mouthful of sodden cotton. “I asked you a question! Did you get enough earlier?” Quinn shook her head no, and Rachel’s smirk slipped, just for a second, into a genuine smile before she turned away to root in one of her bags. She emerged with a unique leather gag - there was a ball on one side of the panel, obviously meant for Quinn’s mouth, and on the other was a black dildo about six inches long. Rachel took a set of keys from her belt and unlocked Quinn’s hands, pulling her roughly into a sitting position. She held out a hand. “Spit.” Quinn’s tongue barely worked, she found, but she managed to deposit her underwear in Rachel’s hand, where it was promptly thrown across the room.
There was no gentle consolation as she worked her stiff jaw, just disdain as Rachel jerked her head down and shoved the gag into her mouth, buckling it so tightly that the strap cut uncomfortably into her cheeks. “Hands behind your back,” she demanded, and Quinn complied. Her hands were roughly cuffed, again, and she was shoved backward onto the mattress. “Now,” Rachel said, standing up and stripping out of her impossibly tight pants, “let’s see if there’s anything you can do properly.” She stepped out of the tiny thong she wore and Quinn groaned at the sight of her glistening sex. Rachel clambered onto the bed and positioned herself over Quinn’s face, lowering herself onto the dildo with a soft sigh. “You stay still,” she warned, giving Quinn’s cheek a warning tap.
It was torture, in the sweetest of possible ways. Quinn watched, wide-eyed, as Rachel fucked herself with the black phallus, her open pussy dripping onto the panel of her gag. She was so close and Quinn couldn’t touch her, couldn’t taste her sweetness, could only watch and inhale the scent of her, watch the taut muscles of her abdomen as she moved up and down, hear the soft noises that meant an orgasm was close - and then nearly weep with frustration as Rachel came, feeling the hot, sweet come drip onto her cheeks. She whimpered, wriggled and tested the handcuffs, and Rachel sat contently on her face with a smirk.
“Well,” she said, when she tired of that, “I think it’s dinner time. I got special permission from the judge for you to do a bit of manual work while you’re incarcerated.” She eased herself off the dildo and pulled Quinn roughly to her feet, removing the gag and the handcuffs and throwing them aside.
“Rach, please,” Quinn couldn’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, but she knew instantly that they were a mistake. Rachel’s face hardened, and she reached down for the thong she’d previously discarded. She shoved it roughly into Quinn’s mouth and sealed her lips with a piece of silver tape retrieved from one of her shopping bags.
“First of all,” she circled Quinn, who knew better than to move, and slapped her ass hard enough to leave a red mark, “I didn’t give you permission to speak to me. Second of all,” another slap, “if I ever do, you’ll address me as Officer Berry. Clear?” Quinn nodded frantically. “Good,” a final slap punctuated her point. “Now,” she grabbed something else from the bags, something that clinked together. She turned to Quinn with a wicked smile and brandished a set of restraints - two handcuffs connected by a short chain to two ankle cuffs. Quinn held out her hands obediently and Rachel cuffed them before cuffing her ankles as well. Quinn tested the chains experimentally, and found she could raise her hands no higher than her waist and move her ankles no more than a few inches apart.
“Very good,” Rachel admired her handiwork. “Now, get in the kitchen. I’ll expect dinner in twenty minutes.” Quinn balked - there was a large window in the kitchen, and she had no way of knowing, in her current mood, if Rachel had bothered closing it. Rachel picked up on her hesitation. “That wasn’t a request. If you ever want to get out of here, you’ll move your ass. Now!” she shouted, and Quinn - completely nude and red-faced - walked in tiny shuffling steps into the kitchen, her chains clinking with each step.
To her great relief, the blinds were closed tightly - but Rachel had chosen to torture her in another way, she discovered. All of the things she’d need to cook with were moved onto the highest shelves, where she had no chance of retrieving them. She tried, nearly weeping with frustration, but in the end all she managed was to break a plate as she pulled it off the counter. Rachel sauntered out ten minutes later, shaking her head. “God,” she groaned. “You really are only good for getting fucked, aren’t you? It’s no wonder you ended up here.” She grabbed Quinn’s chains and dragged her to the kitchen table, bending her over it. “Might as well make use of you, then.” Quinn felt the strap-on pressing against her sex, and spread her legs as much as the chains would allow. The angle was awkward, but she was desperate to make it work. Rachel was fast, and rough, and pulled out just seconds before Quinn could climax. She screamed into the tape, slapping a hand on the table in utter frustration.
Rachel chuckled dryly. “Aww, is my whore getting frustrated? Wishing I’d just let you come?”
Quinn nodded, even though she was sure the question was rhetorical.
“Good,” Rachel laughed. “That should remind you of your place. You’re mine, and you’ll come when I let you! You’re here to service me, not the other way around.” She unbuckled the strap-on and tossed it aside, climbing onto the table wearing just her uniform top. She put a leg on each of Quinn’s shoulders. “As much as I hesitate to let your filthy tongue touch me, you’re going to eat me out. Take the gag off.” It took some contortions, but Quinn managed. Her fingers strayed toward her sex, but Rachel gave her hair a hard tug, making her eyes water. “Attention where it belongs, slut.” She didn’t relinquish her grip on Quinn’s blonde locks, but used it to guide her face where she wanted it. Her legs wrapped tightly around her head, and she knew she wasn’t escaping until Rachel decided she would.
It was what she’d been willing to beg for earlier - her tongue probed deeply into Rachel’s folds, tasting the indescribable flavour of her, tracing intricate patterns that made Rachel whimper above her. When she knew that the other girl was close, Quinn’s lips latched onto her clit and she sucked gently until Rachel drenched her face with come. She licked her lips, feeling her own clit throbbing achingly between her legs, and Rachel climbed down from the table.
“Well,” she cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll make dinner, seeing as how you’re too useless to manage. Kneel on the floor right where you are. If I see your fingers anywhere near your hole, I’ll make sure you’re here until you’re fifty and you never come once, do you understand me?”
Quinn nodded, sinking to her knees. It took every ounce of willpower in her body to keep her hands at waist-level, and she could feel hot tears of frustration running down her cheeks, but she managed. Before she knew that the time had elapsed, Rachel dropped a plate of food on the floor in front of her. “Give me your hands,” she demanded, and unlocked them. Quinn reached for the plate, but Rachel pulled her arms behind her instead. She reached between Quinn’s legs, brushing her clit with a cruel finger, and pulled the chain that connected her feet and wrists between her legs to cuff her hands behind her back. Quinn looked pleadingly at her.
“Don’t give me that look. This is prison, not the Ritz. You’re good with your mouth, I’m sure you can take care of it. I’m going to watch television - I’ll be back to collect your plate.” She left Quinn there, and she stared forlornly at the dinner in front of her. Rachel’s demand that she eat like a dog, stuffing her face into the food, was utterly humiliating - and it somehow made her sex ache even more than it had been already. She leaned forward carefully, lapping up peas and carrots, then moving on to the steak - at least Rachel had been merciful enough to cut it into strips.
She was finished long before Rachel came back, and her desperate need to come overcame her. She leaned back, trying to contort herself enough to reach her dripping pussy, but the chains frustrated her efforts. She leaned too far back the final time, and fell over backward. Rachel emerged from the living room with a dangerous smile.
“I knew you couldn’t be trusted. Fine. From now until the end of your sentence, your hands are going to be kept out of the way.”
“Officer Berry?” Quinn asked quietly. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Do you?” Rachel sneered. “And is there some reason I should let you?”
Quinn wanted to protest, to beg, but she was finally beginning to learn the rules of her captivity, and knew that neither of those would do much good. “Because I’ll be a good whore for you, Officer Berry?” she licked her lips, and Rachel nodded approvingly.
“Yes, you will.” She pulled Quinn to her feet and marched her down the hall, unlocking her hands as they reached the bathroom. Quinn walked in and pushed the door closed - or would have, if Rachel hadn’t held it. “This is prison, slut, there’s no privacy here.”
Quinn blushed deep red all over her body. They’d seen every part of each other, of course, but Quinn had always been fanatical in her resistance to using the bathroom in front of her wife. But Rachel was unyielding, and Quinn had no choice. She emerged in the end with her head down, taking shuffling steps. Rachel ushered her into the bedroom, all but throwing her on the bed.
“Time to make good on your promise.” Quinn did, licking and sucking and curling her tongue just so until Rachel came with a scream. There was no post-coital cuddling, though, only Rachel pulling her toward the head of the bed and tying her hands to the bedposts with nylon rope. Her smirk made Quinn worry, and her worries were borne out when Rachel slid a small silver egg into her sex. It shuddered to life, and she nearly wept with joy - and then with frustration as it stopped again.
“I should explain,” Rachel nodded. “It’s time for lights out. That egg’s going to come on every half hour, for just about that long. I’ll be sleeping in the other room - don’t wake me, or you’re going to regret it. Okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she planted a soft kiss on Quinn’s lips and walked out, putting a bit of extra sway in her hips.
Yes, Quinn, mused, it would be a very long weekend after all.