"Oh, shit!" Lindsey squeals and laughs in excitement as I slap her hand away from my gun.

"Don't play with me, little girl," I tease. "It's not a toy."

"Yeah, but, like... what do you do if someone tries to grab it..." she smiles and waits before pouncing at it again, only to fall victim, yet again, to my quick reflexes.

"You really wanna know?" I stare into her eyes with a devious smile while taking a firm hold of her tiny wrist in my hand.

"Uh..." she blushes, then nods. "Yeah..."

"Get up," I say, rising up from my chair and bringing her with me.

Lindsey's light, like a feather, and judging from the ease with which I lifted her off of that chair, I have to wonder if she's even a hundred pounds. Now that I'm standing in front of her, I realize she's much shorter than I thought at first glance, as her face is barely in line with my chin.

"Hey..." We're interrupted momentarily by the weak voice of your husband, Mark. "It's getting kinda late, don't you..."

"Go for it," I say, cutting him off before he can finish his question.

Lindsey smiles, and so do I. She waits, playfully faking a few grabs at it that I anticipate with expertise.

"Go on, little girl... grab it..."

Her drunken squeal before she lunges for the holstered Glock 22 tips me off that this one's for real, and in a swift and deft movement, I've got her wrist in my grip again, twisting her around and pinning her to the front of my body. With my other hand, I grab her other light forearm and bring it back to join the other, pressing her wrists together and holding them with one of my giant hands.

"Fuck," she giggles, while Mark remains silent, unsure of what to do. "Now what? You gonna arrest me?"

"You want me to?"

Lindsey giggles, then shrugs. "I dunno... I've never been in handcuffs before..." She cranes her neck to look up at me, and I can see the thrill in her eyes.

"Well," I begin, reaching over to my strap. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but when you've tiny little wrists like these, we usually use zip-ties."

"Oh," she says with a hint of intrigue. "Mkay..."

Pulling out a long, plastic tie, I wrap it around her wrists and fasten it tightly.

"Mmm," she mutters, almost to herself, as I feel her body twitch and tremble with anticipation.

I smile against her hair before turning her around to face me.

"Aren't you supposed to, like, say something?" Lindsey's breaths are getting shorter, while her chest rises and falls, pressing those perky, B cup tits against the cups of her dress. "Like, read me my rights, er whatever..."

"Oh?" My smile widens in a teasing smirk. "You want the whole show, huh?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Hey," Mark chimes in again, but this time he musters up whatever courage he has to get a little louder. "Maybe we should just... stop..."

"Babe," Lindsey says, acknowledging his presence for the first time in what seems like hours. "We're just messing around..."

When I look at Mark, taking in his puny physique, noticing that receding hairline that only has months, maybe a year to go before it's gone completely, there's a small part of me that feels sorry for him. But just a small part.

"Yeah... maybe he's right," I answer, checking my watch. "It is getting late..."

"Nooo," Lindsey whines. "Come on, just say it..."

I look at Mark again, but he has nothing left to say as he stands there with an intimidated gaze in his eyes.

"Sure," I answer. "You have the right to remain silent..." I begin, giving her the whole spiel, never breaking eye contact as she nibbles on her bottom lip.

Lindsey's face is red, glowing with a thrill that turns into a hint of arousal. Her eyes move back and forth inside their sockets, searching mine for something.

"And what if I resist?"

"Oh, yeah? That what you're gonna do?"

"I dunno. Maybe?"

"You sure you wanna find out?"

"Um..." she giggles and blushes again. "Maybe... yeah..."

"I don't know... if you were any other perp, I'd let you know that if you move..." My smile widens. "I'll slap the piss out of you."

The smile drops off of Lindsey's face, almost in shock at what she's just heard. It's a look of fear, trepidation, contemplation, mixed with desire and curiosity.

"Oh... yeah?"

"Yeah." My voice is low, and my face serious, as I nod.

I can almost hear Mark's heartbeat quicken inside his chest from across the table as his blood pressure rises, but I ignore.

"That what you wanna do, young lady? You wanna resist?"

Lindsey keeps looking at me with a slight hesitation, before weakly beginning to pull away from my grip. I hold her firmly in place, and she tries harder this time, eliciting an excited smile from me. Her next move is stronger this time, puffing out a weak mutter as she tries to pull away, and that's when I shift my hand to the back of her hair, giving it a sharp tug back, enough to make her wince.

*SLAP!*

My hand's so quick and violent that neither her, nor Mark, saw it coming. He gasps. Lindsey's eyes widen, and her mouth widens, lips trembling as if she's trying to form any words to say. Her breath quickens, and I can see the glossiness in the corners of her eyes. For a moment, I wonder if she's regretting this. If she's about to cry and scream and kick me out. But then, she moves again.

*SLAP!*

"Ungh!"

Lindsey squeals after my meaty palm lands across her tender cheek harder than before, causing some strand of her hair to fall across her face, of which I smooth back in place, petting her head with tender care. That's when her face crinkles up, and those tears start to fall down her cheekbones. I pull her in, holding her against my chest, smoothing my hand over the back of her little skull while Mark watches in silent horror.

"You okay?"

"Mmhm, yeah," she nods between my brawny pecs. "S-sorry..."

"It's okay..."

Lindsey sniffles, burying her face in my chest for a moment, before she raises her head and lifts up on her tip toes. I can feel her hot breath against my ear lobe as she struggles to say what she wants to say, and she finally finds it.

"W-will you..." she begins, pressing her lips closer to my ear, lowering her voice into an inaudible whisper. "... will you fuck me?"

I'm holding her as if she were my child after a scolding, but I don't answer. Instead, I look over at Mark who's as white as a ghost, as if he's seen into the future and realizes that this ends in disaster for him.

"Mark... I'm gonna fuck Lindsey..."

He's silent, trembling in his sneakers, looking between the two of us while you bury your head against my body, unable to look at him. Tears fall from Mark's face now, too, as he holds onto the back of his chair to keep from stumbling to his knees in despair.

"I'm sorry," Lindsey whispers again, but this time it's directed at her husband. "Babe, I'm sorry..."