Page 6 of Throttle All the Way

I was quick to find her on Illicita’s website. She went by Kitty Cat and she was fucking beautiful in those damn confining photos, all professionally done. Her blonde hair curled and pinned up. She wore black stiletto heels with red soles, her plump tits out, her pussy barely covered by black lace or white sheer fabric. Around her neck lay a collar, a chain in her hand. She was considered a pet, a kitten. In some shots she even wore cat ears, in another I had to readjust my cock as her ass was in the air, a butt plug stuffed into her puckered asshole as a long black, furry tail protruded from it. She was looking over her shoulder at the camera and those electric blue eyes did something to me. She didn’t look happy, she looked scared and helpless, with no way out. I didn’t know if she was in it willingly or by force, but goddamn, I was going to find out.

My blood boiled knowing she was giving her body to these sleazy, disgusting, rich pigs who thought that by throwing wadsof money around they were big men. They weren’t. Money doesn’t make you a man. What it does make you is a narcissistic, arrogant asshole. And she was draping herself over way too many of those in the last few weeks.

I’d managed to hack into the Illicit system. An easy task as I got through their firewalls and found all the information I needed on their newest pets. Her schedule was packed. Nearly every night was a new date, a new affair. Some kept her a secret, others liked to flaunt her. And each time she clung to the arm of one of these rich bastards, my jealous rage was fueled. Time and time again I had to force myself to hold back, to remind myself that I could not get so close.

But these assholes had nothing on me. Wherever she went, I went. I’d spent weeks now in Seattle, away from the club, hiding from my brothers. All they knew was what I told them, and recently I’d told them I was out on a job for the FBI. Instead, I’d taken it upon myself to follow Mila Stepanovich’s every step.

It started out innocently enough, I was a Detective after all. My sole intent was to protect her. I swore that if some asshole tried to rape her or do something she didn’t want, I wouldn’t hesitate to break his legs, or rip off his limp dick.

But it went further than that. As soon as I found out where she resided, I snuck into that tiny studio apartment and put a tracker on her phone. I also took a copy of her hard drive and hacked her passwords. I knew every client she was meeting, who they were and how much they meant to Sabrina Wellchild, the owner of Illicita. This was all meant to get the one thing I wanted most, bringing Yulian Volkov to justice.

The son of a bitch had become a cold case. There was no sign of the Russian mobster, and although we had the Canadian forces looking for him, it would have been easy for him to run and hide. The only thing we could think of to lure him out, was to threaten him, with none other than the woman he tried to kill.So as soon as I had my eyes on her, I made sure word was put out within the dark corners of the internet that Mila Stepanovich, Mark Stepanovich’s daughter, lived. This would only mean that Yulian’s next move would irrevocably involve trying to finish the job. Because with Mila alive, there was a living witness to all his atrocities. One that could place him behind bars and within the same prison where Bulldog had lost seven years of his life.

Everything you could think of that was illegal, I did it, in the hopes that Mila would bring me to Yulian Volkov, or so I told myself. But in truth, I just wanted to be near her. I’d become her personal stalker for the past two months. There was no two ways about it, I’d become just as much or more perverse than all of those sleaze bags. The only difference was that I didn’t want to hurt her. I wanted to help her. I wanted to get her out of this world, but how could I, when I needed her to get my target.

I figured that if I had her in my sights, nothing would happen to her. I could protect her. But things just kept getting darker and darker, and I quickly became attached to the curvy Kitty Cat.

For the most part, the men soliciting her, just wanted a date to a party. Some took her to BDSM clubs, parading her around on her leash. I’d stay close in those clubs, watching as she allowed them to degrade her. Paying her to suck them off on stage. She never did get penetrated though, and I wondered how much she charged to even touch that sweet pussy between her legs.

How did I know about her sweet pussy, you ask?

I knew everything about my mark. I knew how much she liked the attention from those bastards because when she’d get home, that’s when the real show started. Raw and uncut, and my sweet angel unmasked. She’d slide off her tight little outfits and crawl into bed for my perverse nightly performance. When she was alone at home, Mila was herself and I got to see every one of her weaknesses. And one of those weaknesses involved her ownintense needs. She’d prop her legs open and slide those delicate fingers into her tight little hole, getting off on all those men’s desires for her. That’s when I’d lose it. When I couldn’t take my eyes off that curvy body of hers, so full and ripe for my cock. Like I said, I’m not a fucking saint, I have needs. And my needs lately had surrounded this pretty, curvy blonde with eyes that spoke of sinful secrets and a whimper that would make any man go down on their knees for her. I itched to run my hands down every curve of her body, with no fucking brakes, until I crashed against that pretty pussy I knew glistened between her thighs.

I didn’t believe in romance or relationships, or any of that love shit. That was for my brothers who looked all gooey eyed and stupid around their women. I swore I’d never let a woman control me like that. Little did I know that I’d jinxed myself, because as I kept swearing it off for months, I spent the last half of the year absolutely obsessed with a woman who didn’t even know I existed.

Night after night I’d follow her, sometimes getting close enough to smell the lavender in her hair, or feel the brush of her breast on my arm as she swept past me in a hallway or at a club. Night after night I’d join her in her private little display of naughtiness. My camera perched up directly between her thighs as she plunged toy after toy in her needy depths while I stroked my cock, matching her rhythms and wishing that my cock was the only toy she was using to get off on.

This entire time I had endured the torture.. She was always so close yet so fucking far, and it was slowly deteriorating everything I knew to be normal in my life.

I tried to get her out of my head, pursuing other women, but every time I tried, it ended in a dead end. I didn’t want another woman, I wanted her.

Tonight I was waiting for her to leave an event at the grand hotel in the heart of the city. I stayed back, watching her glideacross the ballroom on the arm of that sullen Police Chief, he seemed to favor her. Every event he went, she was there, giving those flashing cameras an all too familiar hollow smile that never quite reached her eyes.

I was leaning against the wall, sipping on the free flowing champagne, when my phone vibrated. Ray’s phone number flashed across the screen, and I quickly picked it up.

“Any news?” I asked, without giving him a chance to say anything.

“It’s good to hear from you too.” I could practically see Ray’s grimace on the other end of the line.

“Any word on Volkov?”

“We’ve got a lead.”

I nearly choked on the champagne, not really expecting any results. “You’re kidding,” I set my half empty glass of champagne on a passing tray and grabbed a napkin, dabbing the alcohol off my chin and suit jacket. My eyes never left Mila who stood in a corner across the room. Her eyes darted toward me, and when they landed on me I quickly turned my back to her, making my way around the ballroom and out of ear shot.

“Tell me what you know.”

“You know, lately you’ve been really bossy.”

I rolled my eyes as I stepped out into the cool night. “Oh I’m sorry Detective, does that hurt your feelings?”

“Wise-ass,” he grunted.

“Just tell me what you found. I’m tired of waiting around for this asshole.”

Ray was the only one I trusted to know my whereabouts. The only reason being that I needed someone to know where to find my body in case I wound up dead. He'd be able to take my place in caring for Mila.

“They spotted him in Anchorage.”

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