Monthly Archives: January 2014

Probation Officer 140: Bowre of blisse 4

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I didn’t catch Sa’afia’s eye just then. She couldn’t spank Ana, partly because she now thought of spanking as sexual and she wouldn’t do sexual things with girls, or with her cousins. And she was submissive.

What do you mean, 'harder'? I'm using both hands, aren't I?

What do you mean, ‘harder’? I’m using both hands, aren’t I?

Once, having found my way into a threesome with two submissive girls (I damn near sabotaged it, with my own disbelief that something so wonderful was going to happen, if I let it), I’d tried to get one of them to spank the other. I’d thought it would be sexy, and how could it not be fun? But it had turned out to be almost impossible to get either girl to give the other anything but the lightest of love pats.

I’d persevered, but it had turned out to be as exhausting as trying to teach a cat to balance on its front paws. I’d realised that my attempts were only spoiling the mood. So I’d done my Homage to Brian Blessed act. Brian Blessed was a big burly, shouty, English actor, a bit like Oliver Reed without the vicious edge. My Brian Blessed act involve  lots of ranting and roaring and slapping. It brought the mood back to where it should be. Since then I haven’t tried making one submissive top another. Not all submissives are quite so averse to trying the other role, or at least play-acting it. But I knew that Sa’afia was. I’d just given Ana a completely empty threat.

But Ana wasn’t so sure she was safe from Sa’afia. “Aw no! That wouldn’t be any fun!” 

“Then behave yourself, Ana.” I said it as though I’d won a point. I wasn’t sure that I had.

Probation Officer #139: Bowre of blisse 3

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Ana pretended to be shocked by Sa’afia’s slap on her arm. “Ow!” she said, not very convincingly. “Hey, you can’t smack me. You’re the only girl who gets smacked around here.”

Ana looked at me, then, to see my reaction. I said, “Ana, you definitely deserve a spanking. Beyond belief. But you know I can’t do it.”

“Why  n-“

“Ana, you know why not. And stop being a brat.”

caned ass“Brats get spanked. Sa’afia gets spanked. She showed me what you did to her bum. Aue!”

“Aue indeed. Sa’afia?”

“We’re cousins. We tell each other things.” 

“Hmmm.” Sa’afia realkised I wasn’t entirely pleased about that. She put her hands on the table in front of her, palms down, fingers interlaced, and stared down at her knuckles. The minx. So I said, “I’ll deal with you later.”  I was pretty sure she’d like to have that sort of thing said to her. And for it to be true. And she smiled, a little smug. 

I was worried that Ana would like hearing it too, a little too much. To Ana I said, “brat, you don’t get spanked by me. But Sa’afia isn’t your probation officer. She can spank you till you can’t sit down.”

Probation Officer #138: The bowre of blisse 2

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I took Sa’afia and Ana to the Gurudwala Bangla Sahib, a Sikh restaurant near my place. It was my favourite cheap celebration restaurant, with dishes that were more like everyday Indian food than banquet meals, and therefore excellent, and low mark-up on the drinks. There was also an element of showing off, because I knew that when Mr Shergill, the owner, saw me come in with not one but two pretty girls, he’d come out to shake my hand, show us to our seats and generally make a fuss.

So Sa’afia and Ana were seated, properly overwhelmed by the formidable charm of Mr Shergill’s vast, genial, magnificently moustached and turbanned self. He knew exactly how magnificent he looked, and he was perfectly aware that he was doing me a favour.

I told Sa’afia and Ana the greeting was because I’d brought two amazingly pretty girls into his restaurant, and that Mr Shergill had an eye for that sort of thing. It sounded true, because one look at his waiting staff, all of them young Indian students from Cal State Long Beach, confirmed Mr Shergill’s appreciation of human beauty. Sa’afia and Ana were ebullient enough just then to believe that the greeting was for them, and in any case they were exceptionally beautiful that night. They glowed. Happiness and celebration suited them.

The truth was that Mr Shergill had started coming out to greet me when he learned that I was a probation officer, and his enthusiasm had been even greater once he realised that I was in Jock’s team. Jock had once done him a good turn, and it must have been something important. I was the undeserving beneficiary of his gratitude.

Anyway, Sa’afia ordered vegetarian, Ana went for fish, and I ate goat. I was paying for the meal, but Ana insisted that she’d pay for drinks. That meant she got to dismiss my wine request and go and have a long, whispered conversation with the handsome man behind the bar. He became very attentive to our table. Ana was pretty, and happy Ana was immensely engaging. And whatever she’d whispered to him had been interesting. He brought out a series of silly cocktails as the evening went on.

cocktailThere seemed to be some sort of theme to it. Sa’afia and Ana kept getting cocktails with lots of cream, like brandy alexanders and White Russians. Not me, though. I was brought, in order, a piña colada, a Singapore Sling, a blue booty, and a drink that Ana had to go back and explain to the barman. 

I said I couldn’t see why it took much explanation, since it seemed to be just pineapple juice, something crimson, a bit of white rum and some cinnamon powder.

Ana grinned until her eyes closed. “It’s a pele fia mea. It’s a traditional Samoan cocktail.”

Ana was pushing for attention, so I pretended not to know those words, though Sa’afia had taught me them. The name means something like, “fuck me, darling”, and while that doesn’t sound too incredible as a name for a recent cocktail, there was no way a drink would get a name like that in a conservative place like Samoa.

But Sa’afia laughed, then pretended to be shocked. She smacked Ana’s arm.

Probation Officer #137: The bowre of blisse 1

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The drive back from the office wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d expected. Jock wasn’t happy with me. But I’d got most of what I wanted, and I knew that Ana would be ecstatic to hear the outcome, which was good in itself, and meant that Sa’afia would be pleased with me too, and wanting to please me.

Happy women make my marker and definition of paradise.

That sounds patronising. One part of it is. Many doms – I’m certainly in that group – take on subtle kinds of care for many of the women around them, not just the submissive women they’re involved with. I’m concerned that the women around me are happy, and I have a tendency to feel smugly pleased with myself when that seems to be so. That’s certainly patronising, or paternalistic, and although it’s a relatively benevolent strain of male chauvinism, I still try to keep myself aware and wary of it. 

Peace, comfort, flowers, food, sex: that's where I want to be

Peace, comfort, flowers, food, sex: that’s where I want to be

The other part isn’t quite so patronising. It’s that I like a lot of the things that most women like, but I’m bored shitless by a lot of the things that most other men like. For example I can watch babies for hours, and talk about them, because they’re fascinating. I’m not as convinced as most women that babies are beautiful, but I am convinced that they’re clever, and watching them try things and figure things out is perpetually astonishing.

On the other hand I’ve watched a couple of the big, hugely popular sports games, and I had a massive failure of interest: I still had the television on at the end of the game, for form’s sake, but before half-time I’d be reading a book. I also have an empathy failure: try as I might, I can’t imagine the state of mind in which you’d actually give a fuck who wins or loses a sports game. (Unless it’s one you’re playing yourself, like beach baseball.)   

Womanotopia is the place to be

Womanotopia is the place for me.

So environments in which women are happy tend to be places where I’m happy too. So I was looking forward to getting to Kempff, Hsang and Cowper, where Sa’afia would be sexily happy and Ana exuberantly happy. 

I’d have to fend Ana off, of course, but I quite enjoyed the necessity. And she’d inspire Sa’afia. I guessed I’d take them both out to dinner. And drop Ana off and take Sa’afia home. 

Jock did ask me how I’d thought it went. I knew he was hoping I’d say it had gone well, so he could bawl me out and tell me how I’d broken a long-term relationship, and I had no idea of the consequences that would come from that, or how long it’d take to repair. So I said I’d thought it had gone terribly. It was a disaster that the police didn’t like us any more, and Dwane was still going to jail, so I’d fucked it up. Jock had grunted and held off his lecture, even though he wasn’t completely sure that I wasn’t winding him up. Which I was.

I’d driven on, two souls in a government car, one of whom respected the other, failing to communicate. 

E[lust] #54! – for your browsing pleasure

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e[lust] – your source for lust in the electronic form

e[lust] #54

 

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Welcome to e[lust] – The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust].  Want to be included in e[lust] #55? Start with the rules, come back February 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

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How children will break UK Internet filters.

Submissive, Not Passive

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Call Me Maybe
To Watch…
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So You Want to Worship Me…Start Here.
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Men in cages
Lucky Mascot – Huddle: Sex With Sporty Queers

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Sex Toys Storage: Hiding from People
SexyLittleIdeas -11 Annoying yet Sexual Dares
His PTSD Cheated on Me
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Phoenix lies and gets herself in trouble
The Storm Behind the Calm
Why I eat your pussy
Light My Fire – Zoe Tries Fire Play
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I write a letter to The Neighbor
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Both ends of the spectrum
Love of Flesh; Want for Blood
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Probation Officer #136: An afternoon with the police 17

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I turned. “If the case against Ana had got into a court, it would have turned into a horrible mess. For the police.” 

“Yeah. So?”

“I did you a favour. Because of, you know, the cooperative relationship between the police and probation services.” Maynard rolled his eyes. “But I arranged for Jane to send you that email. Which saved you from a very nasty mess. I stopped it. Lance Holder.” 

“Jesus. The flasher?” 

“My client. He drops his pants but he’s not a violent offender. He only thumped that farm worker in self-defence.”

flashMaynard took a deep breath. “You get him to keep his dick out of sight, and we’ll drop the assault charge. I guess we could switch it to indecent exposure. Ah, all right. Not worth the time and the hell with it. Tell him to keep his pants on, except in his own home, and we’ll drop all charges.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be very happy. In the privacy of his own home. Thank you.” 

“So we don’t owe you anything. See you tomorrow.”

Probation Officer #135: An afternoon with the police 16

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“I’m not withholding anything.”

“Except a couple of your sources. We can talk about that later. But all right. That’s enough jerking round. Let’s make a deal.”

So that was that. The deal we reached was that Maynard would suspend Curnow and the other two officers, with pay, once we’d left. Tomorrow morning, I’d take Maynard and Jock to meet Ana, at the Community Law Centre. Jane Siebel would be there. 

Ana would be watching Curnow's career with interest.

Ana would be watching Curnow’s future career with interest.

If Maynard decided Ana was a credible witness, and she was prepared to give evidence against Curnow, also Trebizon and Chang, then he’d move Curnow to suspension without pay, and start the process of firing him.

He thought Trebizon and Chang would probably be dropped back to the starting pay grade and required to re-train. They’d been assholes – Maynard said – but he thought they could possibly learn from it.

I’d thought they should probably be fired. Rape threats aren’t a “learning experience”. But I took a nudge from Jock on that point, and let the deal go down. 

Maynard would also review the charges that Ana had incurred through Curnow following her round: most of her obscene language and resisting arrest convictions. The police might apply to have those removed from her record. Maybe. 

Dwane James was still going back to jail. We’d run over time, so Jock got up to leave once we’d agreed that the police didn’t have any quarrel with any advice I’d given James. 

Maynard didn’t get up. When we were at the door, Jock putting his coat on, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. With this Ana. And Jane Siebel. I can’t wait.”

Probation Officer #134: An evening with the police 15

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“Well, I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just telling you what I know. Okay? Now, no-one’s seen Happy Steve in the last six months. From what I’ve heard it sounds like he’s got sick, and he’s expecting to die. It sounds like it might be liver failure, maybe kidneys. He’s probably back in the village where he grew up. In Samoa. I’m guessing that bit. I don’t know where he is. But he’s gone. The point is that Curnow thinks Steve ran out on him, owing him money. About twenty, maybe thirty, thousand bucks.”

“So he puts pressure on the bastard’s daughter, hoping that’ll bring him back. Or get him to send some money so Curnow gets off her case. Yeah, that makes sense. It’s a story, anyway. So your client, Ana, what does she say about this?”

chicken“Nothing. Not a thing. She’s not involved, I’m sure of that. She wouldn’t be scraping chicken fryers for a living if she had any money. I’m told that Steve never involved any of his children in his business. That was probably wise in Ana’s case; she’d be a lousy crim. She isn’t what you’d call discrete.”

“Huh.”

“She knows her dad’s a criminal, but she doesn’t know any details.”

“And you know that …?”

“I know it because she’s been my client for most of a year, so I know. I’ve tried to get her to talk about why Curnow”s been gunning for her, but she wants to be loyal to her family. So she’ll always make herself look suspicious by refusing to talk. But she actually doesn’t know anything anyway.” 

“So you say. And let’s say you’re right. But if we’re looking at Curnow, we’ll be looking at her too. She’d better come out clean.”

“Fair enough.” 

“So. You got any more surprises?”

Probation Officer #133: An evening with the police 14

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Maynard reached for his desk phone. “Yeah. Excuse me.” He gave his instructions as though bored, tapping his fingers and staring at the ceiling. When he’d finished cancelling the warrant he said he wanted to see Curnow, Trabizon and Chang in an hour’s time.

It was the first time I heard the names of the two cops who’d been with Curnow. Trabizon and Chang. They must have been new. They’d fallen into bad company. Maynard looked at me when he’d hung up. “You happy now, what’s your name, Mortimer?”

“I’m sorry this has happened. But they threatened my client.”

“Yeah, I bet I bet you’re sorry.”

“Come on, Greg. We can stop fencing now. For fuck’s sake. Jaime, how about you stop with the games too, yeah? Just tell us what you know about this.” 

“Okay. I can’t prove most of what I’m about to say. But I know that my sources aren’t lying. I’m confident it’s basically true, but I’ve got no evidence.”

Jock snorted. “Get on with it.”

“So, the reason Curnow is after Ana, one way and another, is that Ana’s father is a drug importer. His name’s Apirana Sitiveni Matutumua. Though he’s got lots of names. People in LA mostly know him as Happy Steve. He was born in Samoa but he was living here. He’s got dual US-Samoan citizenship.”

“We’ve heard of Happy Steve.” 

customs“He mostly ships coke, opiates and synthetics through Tonga. Because corruption. There’s all sorts of stuff going past Tongan Customs officials and on to California, while they take the money and look the other way.”

“‘Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by,'” said Maynard, unexpectedly. “I know about Tonga. Go on.”

“Okay. Ana’s dad was paying money and supplying dope to various cops. Curnow was one of them. I don’t know whether he was dealing or using himself. But he was on the take.” 

“And you can’t prove that.” 

“No. I’ve been told it by people in the Samoan community. Whose names I can’t give you. But you could prove it, if you put the resources in.” 

“Not your business, Jackass.”

Probation Officer #132: An afternoon with the police 13

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“Earlier this morning. Curnow and two others. At her workplace, towards the end of her shift. They said they were all going to quote fuck her unquote.” 

Maynard pulled a disgusted face. “Hell. Were there any witnesses?”

Maynard’s disgust had little to do with sympathy for Ana. It was mostly at the stupidity of his officers. I felt a surge of rage, high in my chest. But anger is cheap, an emotion people wallow in to convince themselves of their own virtue. I fought it down. “Ms Matatuma would be extremely impressive in a courtroom. Of course, there’d be a media storm. She’d be effective there too.”

Jock said, “Really you need to fix this quickly. So that it’s a story about the city finding and fixing a problem, not the city trying to stonewall.”

“Jock, don’t try to teach me media skills. Jackass, you dodged my question about witnesses. For that rape allegation. So you’ve got none, have you?”

“Ana’s the witness. Three cops will deny it, but they’re demonstrably guilty of fraud. So Ana’s got very strong credibility and they got none. I believe her. A jury will too, if it comes to that. So would the Times.” I meant the LA Times.

“Huh.” Maynard leaned forward and tapped the desk in front of him with his forefinger.

prohibitionSo did Jock. “Your officers must have gone to Ana’s place in the early afternoon, after they’d collected the baggie they brought to her place. What time did they come back to the precinct?”

“Yeah, I heard the question when your boy asked it. Curnow led the search, and he did have two other officers with him. Damn fools.” Maynard closed his eyes. “And they came back with the baggie at two-thirty.”

I nodded but said nothing.

The timing eliminated any possibility that the bag had been in the room at any time when Ana was there. It removed any ambiguity over whether she’d ever touched the dope or known it was there. It also meant that Curnow had acted faster than I’d expected. We’d been ahead of him, but we’d cut it fine. 

Jock made a volcanic rumbling in his throat. “Greg, I’ve got some staff issues.” His look at me wasn’t friendly. “But it seems you’ve got worse ones. In the meantime, though, it seems as though you might rescind that arrest warrant for our client.”