Kink Floyd

“Cock-a-doodle-do, baby girl. Or as you like to say, any cock will do.”

Detective Tarja Hunter would have loved to smash the face of whoever said that to her, but the restraints on her arms and legs prevented her from doing so. Her sudden burst of energy after waking up saw her thrashing around in a standing spread eagle position. As her eyes adjusted to the studio light, she saw that she was wearing nothing more than a black leather thong with a skimpy bra to match. She also had a rubber ball gag obstructing her speech and causing her jaw to ache as badly as her pounding head.

She immediately recognized the two perverts standing in front of her. The one who made the rooster joke was Daniel “Kink Floyd” Alexander, a middle-aged man with long silver hair, tight black spandex pants, and a blue T-shirt with the screaming face from Pink Floyd the Wall with a ball gag in its mouth. The one standing next to him texting on his phone was straightedge gangster Johnny Filter, a puffy haired psychopath with a black leather vest and blue jeans.

Tarja continued to struggle in her chains and stare daggers into Daniel’s eyes, to which he said, “Sweetheart, don’t look at me like that, these pictures are going to be amazing. You’ve already got the body of a smoking hot supermodel, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” The bondage enthusiast turned to Johnny and said, “For Christ’s sake, put away your phone, man.”

“What? I was just texting the captain, that’s all. Somebody has to let him know how much damage these pictures could do to his precious little precinct. Why shouldn’t it be me?” asked Johnny.

“Smart as a whip, aren’t you, Johnny?” said Daniel as he retrieved his telephoto camera. “Oh, these pictures are going to look fantastic. Okay, baby girl, smile for the camera! Oh wait, you can’t smile, because you’ve got a gag in your mouth. Yeah, sorry about that. Sorry I had to stick my ball in your mouth.”

Daniel and Johnny had a good laugh at that one before the latter said, “Don’t worry, Kinks, this isn’t he first time she’s had something that hard to swallow in her mouth.” The two perverts laughed like hyenas again while Tarja raged around in her bindings and growled at them through her ball gag.

“Ooo, I love it when they squirm around like that. They make for better pictures,” said Daniel as he flashed a bunch of pictures of Tarja’s angry misery. The more pictures he snapped, the harder the detective struggled and the harder she roared. “Look at those pretty eyes, Johnny. You picked a good one tonight!” Daniel took one last picture of Tarja, this time a close-up of her vicious, fiery face.

Daniel and Johnny both scanned through the pictures and grinned creepily. Kink Floyd said, “Okay, Johnny cakes, be a good little millennial and upload those pictures onto my computer. You know where my office is. I’ll be out here playing with my new toy while you’re doing that.”

Johnny took the camera and said as he was making his way to the back office, “Don’t have too much fun out here, Kinks! Territoriality; she was mine first!”

As soon as Johnny Filter shut the door behind him, it was just Kink Floyd and the helpless Detective Hunter, whose face was beet red with both embarrassment and anger. A little stream of spittle splashed from her bottom lip. She bit down hard on her gag as if she suddenly had lion fangs that could chew through flesh and bone. Daniel slowly approached her with a sadistic grin and gently rubbed the back of his leathery hand against her soft face.

“You know, Miss Hunter,” he said. “You may not realize it right now, but you’re doing a great thing for your community. Johnny Filter isn’t just any gangster. He’s a straightedge gangster, which means he only beats up drug dealers and neo-Nazis, the scum of our society. If your boss laid off of us like he’s supposed to, we could do his job better than any cop ever could, yourself included. Don’t get me wrong, honey, you’re a damn good cop. But Johnny’s brand of street justice is that much better. You should have been a model instead. Police work is so dangerous for someone as sweet and…” Daniel took a huge sniff of her neck. “…sexy as you!”

Tarja’s veins were ready to explode like dynamite as she thrashed and struggled some more in her chains. Daniel chuckled at her and said, “Sweetheart, what are you doing? I mean, really, what do you think you’re going to accomplish by squirming around like that? We’ve already got your best pictures. And now all that’s left…is to have dessert!”

The instant Kink Floyd grabbed a hold of Tarja’s g-stringed butt, the volcanic detective snapped the chains on her legs and wrapped them around her attacker’s neck, squeezing his airways in an MMA move known as the Triangle Choke. Now Daniel was the one struggling as he tried to pry Tarja’s legs loose and get some air into his lungs. His face turned purple, his eyes rolled backwards, and his body became limp.

Tarja let Daniel’s corpse drop to the ground while she struggled with her arm bindings. She let out powerful moans through her gag which prompted Johnny to say, “Kinks, what did I tell you about having too much fun?” from the back office. This fueled Tarja’s lava hot adrenaline even further and she eventually snapped the chains on her arms. As she was on her knees, she pulled the ball out of her mouth and took deep breaths while rubbing her jaw.

The detective slowly stood up and tiptoed across the hardwood floor into Daniel’s office, where, with his back turned to her, Johnny Filter was frantically typing and uploading the pictures onto the computer. “You need something, Danny boy?” said Johnny as he swiveled his computer chair around. The look on his face changed from arrogant sadism to horrified shock when he saw Tarja standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “Uh-oh, Spaghetti-O’s” he said to himself.

“You’re damn right, you fucking pervert!” said Tarja as she charged at Johnny with a flying knee attack, catching him right on the bridge of the nose and busting him wide open. Johnny screamed and cried for help while Tarja kicked him repeatedly in the ribs and head. As soon as she felt he was subdued, the detective ripped the computer tower from underneath the desk and threw it roughly to the ground, shattering the hard drive into little chips and wires. Johnny laughed at her with blood in his nose and mouth before Tarja asked, “What’s so funny, you little shit?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. It’s just that…you’re too late! I already sent those pictures to your boss. As soon as he’s done creaming in his pants, he’ll start to understand just how important I am to cleaning these streets up.”

The realization hit Tarja like a super heavyweight boxer’s punch to the stomach. Her most embarrassing photos were now on the internet and everyone was going to ridicule and sexually harass her for the rest of her life. They would see her as nothing more than a “whore” and a “slut”, two words that got her eyes wet in a hurry.

“Now, back to business,” said Johnny. “Are you going to arrest me or what? I mean, you did beat my ass just now and that won’t look good as far as police brutality goes. Then again, your career’s already over, bitch, so you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Now it was Tarja’s turn to have a sick, sadistic smile on her face. “You know what? If I’m going to go out, I’m going out in a blaze of glory. And it’s going to be the biggest goddamn blaze of fire this city has ever seen.”

The disgraced detective grabbed a hold of Johnny’s vest and dragged him kicking and screaming out to the studio. He begged, pleaded, and whined for forgiveness, something he expected Tarja to do from the start while she was in kinky bondage. Instead, the cop shoved the ball gag in Johnny’s mouth, dragged him by the hair to a nearby window, and threw him through the glass. His muffled screams sounded off throughout the neighborhood as he fell to his doom, caving in a car that was parked on the sidewalk.

About this time, Kink Floyd was waking up and shaking the cobwebs off. Tarja scowled at him and said, “You’ve been found guilty of kidnapping an officer, extortion, and murder. The victim? Pink Floyd’s music! I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon, asshole!”

Tarja grabbed Daniel by his hair and dragged him over to a different window before chucking him through the glass and watching him crash to the concrete below. With both of her attackers smashed into pieces and dead as doornails, it didn’t change the fact that her career as a cop was over. She sat down in the fetal position and sobbed silently over her knees. The satisfaction of killing Daniel and Johnny only lasted for a few seconds. Now it was replaced with pants-pissing fear and stomach-burning anxiety. If she could throw two sociopaths out of a window, imagine what she could do to a sexual harasser. She wasn’t afraid of jail at this point. In her mind, she was already a prisoner of a cruel and sexist world.