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Lying awake and very much alone in bed, Detective 2nd Grade Katherine Beckett reflected on the speed with which her off-duty life had turned to shit. After two years of missed signals, squandered opportunities and cosmically bad timing she had finally acknowledged her undeniable if unspoken attraction to Richard Castle, crime novelist and self-appointed consultant to the NYPD. Castle, who endlessly aggravated her with his frat-boy attitude and inappropriate behavior, even as his thinking-outside-the-box approach to homicide investigation enabled Kate to maintain the highest clearance rate in the five boroughs. Acting on her feelings for Rick meant first breaking up with her current beau, Detective Tom Demming, with whom she'd spent many an enjoyable night--to say nothing of mornings and afternoons--between the sheets. Her heart still clenched at the memory of Tom's bewildered anguish as she informed him they were through. She consoled herself with the certainty that in time Tom would find someone else, that she and Castle were meant to be...only to watch in shattered disbelief as Rick left the 12th Precinct that day with his ex-wife Gina on his arm. Unbeknownst to Kate the two had reconciled and would be summering together at his oceanfront manse in the Hamptons.
Javi Esposito had waited a decent interval before turning to Kate with an I told you so look. Thankfully he refrained from sermonizing afterward; that was Lanie Parish's department. Girl, what did you expect? she scolded late one night while a despondent Kate nursed her third glass of Beaujolais on Lanie's living room sofa. Rick Castle trails you from one crime scene to the next, spends so much time at the precinct I'm surprised Captain Montgomery doesn't charge him rent, dedicates a book to you, and it took you this long to figure out the man was in love with you? How long did you think he'd wait for you to choose between him and Tom Demming? And now you don't have either one.
True fact, Kate thought dismally. Castle had offered her his heart and received the back of her hand in return. The collateral damage she'd inflicted on Tom Demming only compounded her sense of guilt. She rolled from her back onto her side, squinting at the spidery green digits of her alarm clock. Christ, quarter to four in the morning. Just as well she was scheduled off the next two days; Captain Montgomery would take a dim view of her drifting off to sleep in the squad room. Squeezing her eyes shut Kate buried her face in the pillow she still thought of as Tom's. The faint smell of his cologne triggered memories of how he used to kiss the delicate hollow at the base of her throat before lavishing attention on her taut nipples with his lips and tongue, the same tongue he used to patiently explore her moist inner folds and tease her swollen, oh-so-sensitive clit...
Kate's erotic reverie was interrupted by the sensation of something cold and metallic pressing against the back of her neck. "Hello, Kate," said Detective Tom Demming pleasantly enough. "No sudden movements, please. I'd hate for Espo or Ryan to see your brain matter all over the headboard."
A spasm of raw fear traveled the length of Kate's body. "Tom, what the fuck?" she hissed.
"Don't cry out, either. I'm perfectly willing to put a hollow-point round through your skull should you force me to."
"How the fuck did you get into my apartment?"
"We exchanged keys, remember? You gave me a key to your apartment and I gave you the key to my heart, which you promptly ripped out and stomped on. Is it starting to come back to you, Kate?"
"Tom..." Kate inhaled raggedly, hoping to steady her nerves before she continued. "I understand that I hurt you--"
"Oh, you did more than hurt me, you treacherous cunt. First you fucked me, then you fucked me over. Strung me along, gave me your word I wasn't just another notch on your bedpost, that we were in this for the long haul. And the whole time your plan was to charm that smirking asshole Rick Castle into bed with you." Tom laughed mirthlessly. "Can't blame you, I suppose. Read somewhere Castle's publisher paid him a quarter-million dollar advance on his next book, the one he's basing on you, before he writes a single word. He earns more in one afternoon than I do in five years. Shit, why settle for hamburger when you have a chance to dine on filet mignon?"
"Tom, this was never about money." She swallowed. "Regardless of what I did to you, what you're doing now is wrong on so many levels. You're a decorated police officer, for Christ's sake!"
"I'm also a man. Any real man understands that when he's wronged it's only natural to want payback. You're off-duty until Wednesday, Kate. That leaves me a whole forty-eight hours before anyone at the precinct misses you. Now place your hands behind your back, palms together." What choice did she have with a loaded gun at her head? Kate flinched at the feel of case-hardened steel on her skin as Tom Demming locked her wrists behind her with NYPD issue handcuffs. "You can sit up now."
"Thanks," Kate said sourly. Tom switched on her bedside reading lamp before producing a tool she recognized as paramedic shears. He sliced apart the panties and camisole top she'd worn to bed, leaving her naked save for the matte black handcuffs. "Tom, let me go now or you'll spend the next twenty to twenty-five years in prison. NYPD will make an example of you."
"First they have to catch me," he said with a grin. "I have an accomplice you have yet to meet, though I hope to introduce you to him shortly. He's an expert at creating new identities for himself and others." As Tom spoke he fished an eight foot length of braided manila rope from a side pocket of his cargo pants. He ordered Kate to lie on her side while he lashed her ankles firmly together and made them fast to her wrists in a punishingly tight hogtie. She was now utterly helpless. Even so she struggled as Tom lifted her from the bed and planted her in a kneeling position on the floor. Her most gruesome nightmares paled by comparison with the waking reality she now found herself in.
"Castle's meeting me for a working lunch tomorrow," she said, a desperate bluff but the best she could manage on short notice. "When I don't show up he'll come looking for me."
"Frankly I doubt that," said Tom, shrugging out of his Police Academy tee shirt. "He's way out on the Hamptons bonding with his ex. Heard the whole story from Esposito. Nice try, Beckett." He removed shoes and socks, followed by his cargo pants. The conspicuous tent shape in his cotton boxers made his intentions all too apparent. Kate had considerable experience pleasuring Tom with her mouth, but never while handcuffed and certainly not at gunpoint.
Steel clashed on steel as she wrenched uselessly at her cuffs. "You can't possibly believe you'll get away with this."
Tom shed his boxers to unveil a prick of heroic proportions. Fully erect it bobbed menacingly before her eyes. "The night you dumped me I lay awake in bed fantasizing how I'd get even with you. I dreamed about tying your ass up and forcing you to suck me off. I guess this is proof that sometimes wishes come true." He seized a fistful of Kate's glossy sorrel hair in his right hand, holding the pistol to her right temple. "My cock in your mouth or your brains on the floor, you choose."
No sooner had Kate reluctantly parted her lips than Tom buried his erection deep inside her, smiling as she gagged on his fearsome length. He ground her face into his pubic thatch. "Make it good, Beckett. If it helps, close your eyes and pretend I'm Castle."
Tom proceeded to deep throat Kate Beckett, a ruthless and methodical act of oral rape that she endured in silence--not that speech was possible with a mouthful of ramrod-stiff cock. Prior to this he had been gentlemanly enough not to come in Kate's mouth, knowing full well she did not care for the taste of warm semen. She rightly suspected that on this occasion he would not be nearly as chivalrous.
"Goddamn, I know you can do better than that," Tom scolded mildly. "Use that talented tongue of yours." Kate circled the velvety head of his cock with her tongue, then traced the engorged vein on the underside of his shaft, Tom thrusting harder and deeper in response. His stamina was inhuman. All too soon Kate felt a brackish ooze clotting at the back of her throat. When Tom spent himself at last in a cum shot of volcanic scale her mouth was so full of semen she had no choice but to swallow it or choke.
"I'll give you seven on a scale of ten," commented her captor as Kate knelt sobbing in shame before him.
"You evil son of a bitch," she said in an enraged whisper. "I can't wait to testify at your trial."
"You'll never have the chance." Scooping Kate's ruined panties off the bed, Tom wadded them in his fist before stuffing them deep into her mouth. He produced a roll of duct tape--good old duct tape, a thousand and one uses--tearing off a generous swatch and molding it to her lips to seal the gag in place.
"Mmmmphh!" Kate mewled.
"That accomplice I mentioned? He should be joining us by daybreak if not before. Name's Jerry Tyson. You probably know him better as 3XK, the Triple Killer. And you, Detective Kate Beckett, have the honor of being his next victim."
Author's Note: I've been sidelined since roughly the second week of January after the latest in a series of Dell laptops crashed on me. I've since invested in a Hewlett-Packard and hope to make up for my long absence now that I have a reliable computer again. Daniel from has created his versions of the lovely Angie Harmon from Rizzoli & Isles and Daniela Ruah from NCIS: Los Angeles to keep Kate Beckett company in captivity. Hope to post that story soon. Artwork for this installment provided by , who probably thinks I died or something since I haven't contacted him in so long. My apologies, DLM.