Erotic Stories from Wylde in Bed - Dark Werewolf BDSM Erotic romance - Chapter 22

Episode Date: March 26, 2021

Having left Dominic behind, Dianne is hell bent on getting justice for Joseph and brining the full weight of the law onto his murderer. But faced with her first line of enquiry. Her ex.A man she had used to grow her career.How will she handle herself now she is investigating a murder? How will she question the man not days before she was having sex with?So you can enjoy even more intense sensual pleasure, just follow this link to the VIP club, https://wyldeinbed.com/vip-clubs/

Please remember this is an adult's only podcast and does contain some very sensual themes. So please only listen to this podcast if you are happy to explore your deepest sensual fantasies with me and are of a suitable age. Hi, it's Devlin and welcome to another episode of Wild in Bed. Your destination for salacious stories. sensual satisfaction and finger-licking good fantasies. Now, as you enjoy tonight's episode from the land to the slaughter,

you can know you can enjoy even more intense pleasure and endless satisfaction by coming to see me at wilddesires.com where you can test ride your own fantasies for free and what's my. your copy of the full version of Land of the Snotter.

For a special discount price, right there. Now you know this podcast is best enjoyed laying on your bed. Just loosen any clothing. Put your earbuds in, close your eyes, and surrender to the pleasure of my voice, caressing over your body. So when you're ready to enjoy, Deep sensuous pleasure.

Go ahead and take a deep breath and hold it for a moment and then let it go with a sigh, letting go of any tension, any stress. For the next 20 minutes or so, it's just you in my voice. This is your time. Your time to relax. Your time for sensuous satisfaction.

Your time to release that inner woman. As you listen to my voice and enjoy chapter 22 of Lamb to the Slaughter. Chapter 22, Diane, the gates to Judge Hallen's house seem more imposing than before, to say the least. Stone lions and gargoyle survey me with grim menace as I tapped the door of my car through the open window, keyed up and impatient. Waiting for someone to pick up on the intercom. Shit, where is the hired help? Dreading what lies ahead.

I close my eyes for a minute and take a long, deep breath. The last time I had been here, it had been under very different circumstances. Yet here I am. This time in my official capacity, investigating a murder. After what seems like an eternity, The little bronze box crackles to life with a woman's voice. Hello, can I help you? Prosecutor Diane Hightower to see Judge Halland, I announce,

with my voice controlled and determined, positive that something happened here, and even more damn sure that Halland was involved somehow, the somehow being the $64,000 question. Whether he likes it or not, I'm not leaving this place. Not until I speak to him. Is he expecting you?

Probably not. I am here regarding the recent murders, so I would advise you open the gate. Barely controlled rage balls inside me, as I consider that this might have been the last place Joseph saw. Had he been murdered here and then dropped behind dirty knellies, had he begged for his life? Was his killer someone he knew,

The need to find a morsel of justice in this mess burns like an angry, raging inferno inside me. A short screech sounds behind the little box, then fades into silence, followed by the sound of motors operating the gates. The need for protection and security in today's world, most especially for a judge or any kind of public official, is something I clearly perceive.

but seeing this in the cold light of day it all looks less about protection and more about intimidation these gates are like portcullises the days of calamity Jane now a distant memory I feel exposed and remind myself to check for murder holes

when I go into the house I swallow hard preparing myself mentally then drive up the long frankly overstated gravel drive. The main door swings open as I park in front, taking strides down the steps, or strides by someone's standards.

Taking one step where I might take four, the tall man is seemingly eager to greet me, and I wonder if his enthusiasm is simply based on making sure I don't look around too much, or don't see too much, A healthy dose of suspicious paranoia floods my mind As I decide not to play his game I pick up my phone and settle it against my ear

Pretending to be involved in some imaginary call Please God let no one call me now My arms flail in an animated rage At the make-believe antagonist on the other end of the call With a clenched fist I bang on the dash for added effect determined to make lurch wait for me. He might be physically bigger than me,

but my brain is way stronger. The irritation in his hardened expression is obvious. Undoubtedly, he's been sent to usher me inside and doesn't cope so well with a female taking control from him. If I weren't so busy pretending to be angry, I might be tempted to giggle at his discomfort. if the need to get inside and speak with Judge Halland wasn't so urgent and maybe even more tempted to sit here faking a phone call for another 15 or so minutes

asshole Halland's henchman clearly running out of patience irritated and frustrated turned sharply then wanders across the gravel where he stares into the branches of a sycamore tree leaving him for a moment longer to allow him his distraction to grow. I fight back another grin and literally hold my breath as I slide out of the car as quietly as I can manage. He still hasn't noted, which Halland is undoubtedly watching from whatever vantage point he's chosen. More likely than not, it's bothering the fuck out of him. With a soft chuckle, I slammed the door, watching his body jump in surprise. Round one to Diane Hightower. go me.

He stutters as he stumbles over the gravel, well aware he hasn't done as he was asked, and that the small blunder will surely be noticed. Panic covers his expression. I'm here to see Judge Halland, I asked sternly, striding across the gravel path as quickly as I can manage. His distraction by the tree has put enough distance between him and the door, and he arrives a whole three seconds after me.

A warm glow of self-satisfaction embraces me. Whoever lurches, he's lost control on this one. He knows it, I know it. And more importantly, Halland knows it. With my impatience plainly obvious as I wait for him to catch up, his tall stature becomes a little more stooped. His dominance weakened as he catches up with me. This way, Miss Hightower.

He steps out. ahead of me, then leads me down the entrance hall. Prosecutor High Tower. Of course, sorry, prosecutor High Tower. My confidence grows at another little win in our battle for control. Stopping at a large arched oak door, inset with relief carvings that continue the intimidating gargol and lion theme from the front gates. Lurch knocks loudly, sending echoes on the corridor, Lurch avoids eye contact with me as he swings the door open wide and strides into the room. Prosecutor Hightower, he says bitterly. Thank you, Reynolds.

When Prosecutor Hightower has finished her business here, if you could come back and see me, please? Recognizable tension stiffens his body. Yes, sir. He says, his voice a little edged with dread, or maybe even fear. as he turns and closes the door. Prosecutor Hyde Tower, I would offer you a drink, but I am extremely busy. How can I help you?

He stares into my eyes. His glare chilly and unwelcoming, surveying the expanse of his study. For the first time I noticed the large windows flooding the floor with bright sun, the polar opposite of Dominic's dark den. Light and airy, for some reason my mind drifts momentarily. to the fields I remember as a child. Expanses of sunny grass, populated by little more than wildflowers and sheep.

Lots and lots of sheep. I'm here to speak about Joseph Shawish. He was murdered last night. Have you seen him recently? He looks at me with narrowed eyes, his forehead furrowing. Ah, he was a boy who was murdered. choosing to frequent the likes of someone like Dominic DeLure,

what could he expect? You'll no doubt learn this. Have you asked him about it? I haven't seen Joseph since my family was royally fucked over by the prosecutor's office. He says bluntly. His voice measured his words chosen carefully. Instinct burns at the back of my mind, the knot in my stomach twisting and turning.

He knows something, but what? Judge Halland, I know Joseph left See an knee to come and see you. He wanted to make his peace with you. Well, it's fortunate for him that he didn't get this far. I'm sure I could have imagined much worse for him. He snaps back sneering, his controlled veneer dropping, his eyes cold and indifferent. He had a letter for you.

Are you telling me you have no knowledge of that at all? I ask, looking into the judge's cold eyes and trying to read his body language. Let me be clear, Miss Hightower, because obviously I'm not. His words are apathetic and uncaring, setting off a warning in my mind. My palms begin to sweat as a strange feeling of dread as the hair on my neck on end. I have not had any contact with Joseph Shurban, I've been surest the hearing. Now, thank you for coming,

but unfortunately I cannot help you any further. He moves from his desk and opens the door swiftly. Good day, prosecutor High Tower. Reynolds here will show you the way out. Maybe next time a simple phone call will save wasting your time, as well as mine. What a fucking dick what. Experienced enough to know when I'm flogging a dead horse.

Judge Halland is a way to experience to let anything slide and maybe in past experiences that's worked out for him but he's never dealt with the likes of me come hell or high water with or without the judge's corporation I will figure a route to the truth the death of Joseph Shawish will be solved with a forced smile I respond

very well I will let you get on with your day. Thank you for your time, Judge Halland. And personally, I don't think it's been wasted at all. With his back in front of me, I followed Reynolds into the morning sunshine, resisting the urge to scream about the injustice of the legal system, the deceit of Judge Halland. The frustration that Joseph will never see another dawn, because of my stupid vanity. Tears sting my eyes. young boy had fought so hard to be here, and ultimately was murdered by the very system that should have protected him. Fucking sheep! Nausea floods over me as I reach my car, with Reynolds gone

to whatever punishment awaits him, I lean against the door with regret, anguish and disappointment stirring in my chest like a hundred sharp razors and stare at the ground, breathing deeply, fighting to regain some control. When a glint of bronze catches my eye in the gravel, as subtly as possible, I reach down and pick up the glistening piso. Not quite the coin I'd expect to see in the judge's drive.

Obviously there could be a thousand and one reasons why it was here, but one screams at me from beyond the grave with a gentle Latin accent. Judge Halland, I watch Hightower reach her car, thinking about Reynolds and the fact that I can no longer trust him to do a job anymore, but that problem is for later. Now I need to deal with this irritation of a smart-mouth prosecutor. I thought I had her under control, seducing her, satisfying her.

But that has obviously changed. Things are far too progressed for her to stop anything. But I really don't need the headache of clearing up. any mess she's creating. And right now, Diane Hightower has mess written all over her face. A mess that needs handling, situating and special care. A mess in need of disposal and elimination. I reach into the desk drawer and retrieve my private cell phone,

beginning what will be the onset of the crucial, unavoidable cleaner process. Tower needs to be gone. But find out what she knows first. I don't want this rearing its ugly head later. Perhaps a little reminder to DeLure who the fuck is in charge in this city. And no fuck-ups like last time. You have been warned.

And lastly, make it memorable. Now, on Monday we have a brand new story, of course. And another chapter reading next week. but we're getting near the end of the chapter readings so very soon there won't be any more land to the slaughter on the podcast you'll just have to go ahead and get the audiobook and so I look forward to joining you in bed once again on Monday

when we can get wild in bed all over again but for now and always with your pleasure in mind. This is Devlin' Wild, wishing you salacious dreams. Now, as you have enjoyed this show this evening, you can go ahead and subscribe to my podcast so you don't miss another salacious episode. And you know you can go ahead and visit me at wilddesires.com and grab your own free experiential erotic story just for coming. Thank you.