The Profilers by Suzanne Steele Read Free Book Online Page A

control men. Will you let me feel through you? Judging by how hard your cock is right now, I’m going to take that as a yes.”
    The crop she swung through the air barely made a whisper of a sound but the bite it produced on his skin was effective in eliciting the groans she longed to hear. The sounds he forced through the ball gag placed between his lips were music to her ears. She spoke in between strikes, “I’ll be going through your phone and I better not have so much as a suspicion that you’re talking to any other bitch. I want every number of every woman you’ve ever fucked out of that phone.”
    She struck down on his back hard, relentlessly unleashing the brutal bite of the crop to make her point. Over and over, she swung down on his flesh, now reddened with small squares from the crop. When she felt she had made her point, she untied him, laying him down on the bed and commanding him to lie flat with his arms and legs spread. She left him without restraints and made certain to remove the ball gag that had been in his mouth long enough that he had started drooling.
    She leaned her nude body over him, purposely brushing a dusky rose nipple against his lips. She commanded, “suck, boy,” and he latched on like a baby animal sucking a tit for milk.
    She leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I want to hear you beg, slave. You’re going to beg me to come and I may or may not allow it, but one thing is for damn sure. You better not without my permission.”
    She made a show of spreading her pussy lips open and very slowly sliding down on him. “Such a meaty cock and it’s all mine.” She watched him as his head rolled to the side. She reached up and viciously grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Look at me,” she yelled at him as she slid up and down on him, rubbing her clit with her finger and never once breaking eye contact.
    “Who do you belong to, David?”
    “Oh fuck, ahh Mistress, oh you feel so good. You, only you, you fucking own me, girl.”
    “Oh yes, I do. I most certainly do.” Her movements became more frantic as her core throbbed in need, taking her over the edge. “Come for me, David,” she moaned, riding him with vigor and milking him of all the pent up desire he held for her.
    She fell down on his tight chest, rubbing her hands through his hair and crooning assurances in his ear that he was all she would ever need in a sub.
    They took a moment to regain their strength before jumping in the shower and starting a pot of coffee. There was still a lot of work to do and the night was young.
     

David sipped at his coffee before he leaned down to kiss the most beautiful woman in the world and handed her the cup he had brewed especially for her.
    “You make me so happy.”
    “Well that’s good, David, because I’m not the kind of girl you can get rid of. I own your ass.”
    “And it feels so good to be owned by you, Mistress.”
    “Good boy,” she nuzzled back into his face that he had buried in her hair.
    “I love that long, red hair of yours. Please don’t ever cut it.”
    “There’s no chance of that. Now, let’s go see if our librarian has logged in. It’s hard to believe that a middle-aged, mousy librarian is our cold blooded killer, isn’t it?” she asked, easily switching into work mode.
    “I’ve seen some crazy shit in the eight years I’ve been a special agent. It’s exactly what I told Herb; there is no rhyme or reason to the way a serial killer thinks. If they believe they have been wronged, or if they grew up with a fucked up set of parents, there’s no telling what they’ll do. I don’t know, Rene. There just isn’t any science to it. The professionals have extensively studied it and whether it is nature or nurture, they can’t conclusively say one way or the other; there just aren’t any absolutes. As soon as one promising study comes out, another is right behind it, disproving it. The one thing I have learned, despite the fact that science