The last bitter dregs of coffee slid down Lathifa Blake's throat as she stood by the sink, the ceramic mug clinking against stainless steel. Morning light sliced through the kitchen blinds, striping her crisp Marine Corps dress uniform—every crease sharp enough to cut paper, every ribbon aligned with mathematical precision. She caught her reflection in the windowpane: silver hair like brushed steel, shoulders squared beneath the fabric, spine rigid as a rifle barrel. Pride tightened her jawline. This uniform wasn't just cloth; it was skin. Proof she'd survived firefights and funerals, that her loyalty had weight.
Lathifa’s gaze shifted to the hallway mirror, capturing her full reflection. There stood a black woman shaped by resilience—deep brown skin glowing under the sunlight filtering in through the windows, sharp cheekbones casting shadows like battlements. Silver-gray hair, cropped close and natural, framed intense dark eyes that observed everything. Her nose featured high arches; full lips held secrets between them—poised yet mysterious. The light sculpted her face into something polished, almost cinematic—a monument to survival. She traced the faint scar above her eyebrow—shrapnel from Fallujah as she left her house.
Outside, the black sergeant slid into her government-issue sedan—leather seats cool against her uniform trousers. The engine growled awake, vibrating through the steering wheel as she pulled onto rain-slicked streets toward the base. Base housing shrank in her rearview mirror, replaced by blurring maples heavy with autumn.
Her mind wandered. Fifty-three years. Black. Lesbian. Marine. Each identity was a fortress she’d built brick by bloody brick. Basic training’s mud pits, promotion boards where colonels’ eyes narrowed at her skin, whispered slurs in barracks corridors—she’d weathered it all. Sergeant Major wasn’t just a rank; it was armor forged in contempt and sealed with excellence. Proof, she thought, knuckles tightening on the wheel. Proof they were wrong. The road stretched ahead—straight as a rifle’s bore.
She kept thinking as she drove to the office on this Friday morning. The only disappointment in her career was the rejection of her request to become a drill instructor, which was probably denied because of her sexuality. However, the compensation she received for this rejection was not bad at all: a good position in the security office of the naval base. The internal security office was a pompous name for a group of clerks nearing retirement, whose primary job was to exchange files between the Navy NICS, the perimeter guard unit of the base, and naval intelligence. No investigations, no actions, no dangerous missions—just a quiet, pleasant desk job to rest, waiting for the final years before retirement to pass.
The job was so quiet that she changed her usual stone butch style, abandoning her typical fatigue uniform for a more formal service uniform. Lathifa even started to use the minimal makeup allowed by the Marine Corps regulation, and her usual buzzed gray hair had grown into a still short but elegant pixie cut. The only things that remained unchanged were her sexual preferences and habits. She had been stationed at the base for over a year, and during this time, she fully embraced her sexuality, engaging with the vibrant lesbian community in the nearby city. Due to her inconsistency at work, she also had plenty of free time to dedicate to her favorite hobby: pursuing straight white women and turning them into submissive lesbian femmes.
The sedan stopped in the parking lot, and she entered the busy command center building. The Marines passed by her, giving crisp salutes. Lathifa returned them automatically, her spine locking into parade rest as she headed to her office. Everything seemed normal, a Friday like many others, but today she had decided to change everything, and she smiled at the thought of it while opening her office door.
Later that morning, navigating a sterile corridor toward the quarterly security briefing, Lathifa’s polished oxfords clicked on the linoleum floor. The corridor hummed with midday foot traffic—boots scuffing linoleum, murmured salutes. Then Lieutenant Commander Evelyn Wood rounded the corner, sunlight from high windows haloing her like a Renaissance portrait. Their eyes met. Seargent blake’s pulse hammered against her ribs—a drumbeat of pure, illicit hunger.
Evelyn Wood was in her late 20s, with an athletic build clearly visible beneath her starched white Navy uniform—her full bust accentuated by tailored fabric, porcelain-fair skin glowing against long, fiery red waves of hair. Piercing cerulean eyes scanned a clipboard, lashes casting shadows on high cheekbones. Her symmetrical features—an elegant nose and naturally full lips—tensed subtly with vulnerability as she noticed Lathifa. Lathifa’s throat tightened. “Perfection,” she thought with a smile, “And mine to unravel.”
Evelyn flushed, ducking her head and offering a polite but cold smile. "Sergeant Major," she murmured, voice like velvet over gravel. Her voice—honeyed but firm in tone—unlocked something feral in Lathifa’s chest. She nodded curtly, stepping aside. Evelyn’s perfume—saltwater and vanilla—lingered like a promise.
Lieutenant Wood had become Sergeant Blake’s obsession since her transfer to the base—a fixation as sharp as bayonet steel. The lieutenant commander’s porcelain skin, flame-red hair, and striking blue eyes haunted the black NCO’s nights: visions of that athletic frame pinned beneath her, her composure shattered.
Evelyn’s origins trace back to Alabama’s old-money aristocracy—agricultural fortunes and debutante balls. Her Annapolis pedigree and lieutenant commander rank placed her above Lathifa, with a barrier as rigid as her starched collar. Educated but cold, she used distance as armor. The black sergeant overheard once her dismissive opinion on female homosexuality: "A pervert degeneration," the young officer had told colleagues, her voice filled with disdain. Considering her roots, Blake supposed that she was probably also racist toward people of color.
To Lathifa, Evelyn appeared distant—like a fortress built on privilege and heterosexuality. Yet beneath that cold exterior, the experienced black woman sensed tremors: the lieutenant commander’s breath catching when their eyes met, the subtle flush creeping up her neck. A hidden submissive, Blake concluded, with predatory certainty coiling in her gut. Breaking her would be a conquest sweeter than any medal—proof that even the most untouchable could be unraveled.
Today, everything was about to change for Evelyn because Lathifa, pursuing her crush, had uncovered her secret—a clandestine affair with Captain Thomas "Mac" McAlister, her married Navy superior. Their trysts took place in Mac’s quarters, hidden by his rank and her discretion. But Lathifa, driven by her obsession with the beautiful female officer, had figured it out: Wood’s unexplained absences, Mac’s lingering touches in corridors, the scent of his cologne on her uniform.
Lathifa followed every lead until her patience ran out, and she finally saw them—Evelyn on her knees in the restricted archives room, Captain McAlister’s fingers tangled in her flame-red hair as she serviced him. The sight burned into Sergeant Blake’s mind: the beautiful officer’s uniform skirt hiked up, Mac’s head thrown back against a shelf of classified binders. The black NCO had slipped away unseen after taking a couple of pictures, but the image stayed—a weapon sharper than any combat knife.
She could have confronted the white officer immediately, forcing her into sexual submission, but the black sergeant had more sophisticated plans to conceive. Lathifa started following Evelyn discreetly after work until last Monday. On that date, she tailed her prey’s car through the suburbs of the nearby city to Captain McAlister’s colonial-style house. Mac’s wife was visiting her family in Richmond, which was the perfect opportunity. From her parked car down the block, Sergeant Blake watched Lieutenant Wood slip through the side door, her Navy uniform replaced by a silk slip beneath a trench coat. Inside, Lathifa imagined: Evelyn on all fours on Mac’s leather sofa, his handprint blooming across her porcelain ass. “Today will be my turn to have that white bitch on all fours,” Lathifa thought with a smile,” and to taste the forbidden fruit. I would teach her what surrender truly tasted like.”
Sergeant Blake snapped a crisp salute—regulation-perfect, eyes drilling into Evelyn’s.
"Lieutenant Commander Wood," she stated, voice low and deliberate. “I would need to ask you for clarification on some files,” she added with a mellifluous tone. “Could you please come to my office today at 5.30 pm?”.
The white girl froze mid-stir, porcelain features tightening. The young officer was not oblivious to the office routine, and 5:30 pm on Friday was a strange time for a meeting. The command office would be almost empty, with all the personnel heading home for the weekend. That means any conversation would be about urgent matters or would need to be shielded from unwanted ears.
"Why?" Evelyn asked, her tone sharpening with suspicion.
Lathifa offered a thin, predatory smile.
"Nothing urgent. Just clarifying discrepancies in Captain McAlister’s personnel files," she said, watching Lieutenant Wood’s knuckles whiten around the papers in her hands—panic flashing in those cerulean eyes.
"NCIS cross-references," Lathifa added smoothly.
Evelyn swallowed hard, her shoulders tensing. "Understood, Sergeant Major. I will be there," she replied before turning away and heading to her own office.
As she hurried away, Lathifa’s smile deepened. The scent of jasmine and fear lingered long after Evelyn vanished down the corridor. Hook set, she thought. Now it was time to reel her in.
Lathifa’s office door clicked shut at 5.25 PM behind her after she finished a “reconnaissance” tour of her department. All the other offices were already empty, just as she expected, and outside, the base’s parade ground lay deserted beneath bruised twilight clouds. She adjusted her uniform sleeves, her fingertips brushing the knitting needle case concealed in her pocket—a habit she had when anticipating confrontation, and she sat at her desk waiting for her prey. The black female sergeant was very proud of her clever plan, but indeed, luck also played a role. Captain McAllister had left the day before, accompanying the Admiral on an inspection tour of the Antarctic bases; therefore, Evelyn would not be able to communicate with him for at least a week. Private calls were not allowed except to family, and calling a beautiful female subordinate would have sounded suspicious. On top of that, discussing a potential NICS internal investigation on an office call was out of the question. This fortunate circumstance would have left the beautiful redhead officer to face the situation alone, with no support or advice. She would have been confused, unsure of what to do, and more vulnerable to Lathifa's advances. Another fortunate circumstance was the timing of the opening moves on Friday afternoon, which ensured a certain level of privacy because the base was almost empty. This gave her two full days to tame and completely submit her beautiful white prey.
At 5:30 PM sharp, Lieutenant Wood arrived, her posture stiff but her pupils dilated with barely concealed fear. The sergeant didn’t stand up from her desk or salute when the beautiful white officer entered the office. The black woman nodded casually, but Evelyn didn’t seem to notice. Lathifa's lips slightly curled upward on one side in a malicious grin. The shifting of power between the two women had already started.
The black sergeant decided to push forward to test the stunning redheaded officer.
“Sit," she commanded, pointing to the metal chair opposite hers.
Evelyn obeyed quietly, her spine stiff against the cold backrest. Lathifa's lips curled slightly more, sensing the upcoming victory.
"You mentioned discrepancies, Sergeant Major?" Evelyn said, her voice trembling slightly.
The black woman took a deep breath.
“It is not exactly like that,” she said with a false sadness on her face.
Lathifa leaned back in her chair, steepling scarred fingers.
"Captain McAlister’s service record shows... irregularities." She let the silence stretch, watching sweat bead on Evelyn’s upper lip.
"Specifically," Lathifa continued softly, "unauthorized access to classified archives."
Evelyn’s breath hitched—a tiny, fractured sound. Lathifa rose slowly, shoes silent on the linoleum as she circled the desk. She folded her hands on the table, the fake smile she offered barely reaching her eyes.
"Evelyn," she began, her voice steady and measured, "we're not here to play games. I'm going to lay it all out, and you're going to tell me the truth. No lies, no evasions."
Again, Lathifa intentionally crossed the line, narrowing the distance between her and her prey, calling the white officer by name. Evelyn didn’t react; she didn’t even notice. Instead, she felt a shiver run down her spine, despite the hum of the air conditioner. She had witnessed interrogation before and recognized that tone. It was the one interrogator used before she tore into a witness like a lion on the hunt. But there was something else in the black woman’s eyes, something that made Evelyn's gut clench with a fear far more personal than any professional encounter they'd had before. She swallowed hard, her hands clammy against the cold metal of the chair.
"What are you talking about, Lathifa?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sergeant Blake opened a drawer in her desk and slid a folder across the table. It landed with a soft thud, echoing in the sterile room. Evelyn's eyes flicked to it, then back to Lathifa. She could see the title on the tab, written in neat, bold letters: "WOOD, EVELYN - INVESTIGATION." It felt like a punch to the stomach.
"This isn't a fishing expedition, Evelyn," Lathifa said, her voice firm but not unkind. "There is some evidence, solid evidence of your personal relationship with Captain Mc.Allister."
She paused, letting the importance of her words sink in. Evelyn felt her heart pounding in her chest, each beat ringing in her ears like a drum.
Lathifa continued, "There are recordings of Captain McAlister’s and other evidence calls, and you, Evelyn, are every step of the way."
The black sergeant stepped back to sit on her chair and paused, staring at the redheaded beauty in panic in front of her. She looked at the white officer with a fake, severe, and pondering expression on her face while she was barely restraining a grin of satisfaction inside herself. So far, Lathifa’s plan was working perfectly, and her beautiful prey was jumping into the trap that she had carefully prepared.
Evelyn's eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening slightly as she stared at Lathifa. A rush of cold panic swept through her, and she quickly glanced at the folder, as if somehow the words could vanish. Her hands trembled, and she clenched them into fists to hide the betraying movement.
“I-I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, a stark contrast to the chill of the room. Lathifa leaned back in her chair, her expression softening slightly.
"Evelyn," she said, her voice softer than before, "I know this is tough, but you have to face it."
Lathifa's gaze hardened, the warmth in her eyes disappearing like smoke in the wind.
"You can't keep hiding behind that rank, that uniform. Not with me," she continued.
The change in Lathifa's demeanor hit like a slap across the face, jolting Evelyn out of her shock. She felt a surge of anger, hot and fierce, burning away the panic. She straightened in her chair, her shoulders squaring as she met Lathifa's gaze head-on.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she snapped, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "I don't know why you're doing this, Lathifa, but it's wrong. This is harassment," Evelyn asserted, her voice laced with defiance.
She could feel the heat of the black woman's gaze and the weight of her presence, which unnerved her.
“I do not know anything about Captain McAllister’s private businesses, but he is a competent and loyal officer. He has very high moral value, and he would never betray anyone”. The beautiful female officer almost shouted in defence of her commanding officer and lover.
The black sergeant’s heart pounded rapidly, and once again she had to hold back a smile of satisfaction. Her beautiful prey was willingly offering her pretty white neck to the blade of her executioner. Immediately, Lathifa leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, stern growl.
"Wouldn't he even cheat on his wife??” she paused, her eyes boring into Evelyn's with an enigmatic smile on her lips.
Evelyn flinched at the question, her eyes darting away from Lathifa's intense stare. She could feel the walls of the interrogation room closing in, and the air growing heavier with every second. The pause lasted a few seconds that felt like an eternity, then the black woman shook her head, pretending to be sad.
"Why did you do it, Evelyn?” she said, almost sighing. “Why risk everything for that man?"
Lathifa slid another folder across the table, this one smaller but no less ominous. Evelyn’s eyes flicked to it, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat.
"What's in there?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the defiance she’d mustered moments ago suddenly evaporating.
Lathifa’s expression didn’t change, her gaze steady and unyielding.
"Photos, Evelyn. From a surveillance camera outside Captain McAlister's home." She said.
Evelyn’s breath hitched, her fingers fumbling with the edge of the folder as she pulled it towards her. She opened it slowly, her eyes scanning the glossy prints. Inside, her heart raced as she saw herself, captured in grainy black and white, locked in an embrace with Captain McAlister on his doorstep. Each image was a harsh truth, an explicit confirmation of their clandestine affair. Her hands trembled as she set the folder down, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She looked up at Lathifa, her eyes pleading desperately.
Lathifa leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know it's hard, Evelyn. But you need to face it. You need to tell the truth."
Her eyes were steady, her gaze unwavering, yet there was a softness in her voice that belied her harsh words. Evelyn could see the struggle in the black woman's eyes, the conflicting emotions warring within her.
The black sergeant leaned further, and like an Oscar-winning actress, her voice dropping to a low, stern whisper, she said. "Evelyn, I need you to understand something. I'm not doing this because I want to. I'm doing this because it's my duty. But it tears me apart to see you like this."
The words were barely audible, yet they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. Evelyn felt a lump form in her throat, and the proof of her own vulnerability in Lathifa's words hit her like a physical blow. She looked away, her eyes falling on the folder of incriminating photos. The walls of the office seemed to close in around her, the sterile air thick with the weight of their shared secrets. She could feel Lathifa's gaze on her, the silent invitation for her to admit the truth, to let go of the facade she'd so carefully constructed.
And then, Lathifa said the words that shattered everything she thought she knew. "Evelyn, NICS suspected that Captain McAlister is selling classified information to the highest bidder."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and ominous, like the sword of Damocles poised to fall. Evelyn's blue eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat.
"What... what are you talking about?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
She felt the color drain from her face as the world around her spun, and she struggled to process Lathifa's words. Treason? Captain McAlister? It couldn't be true. It couldn't.
The black woman's expression softened, her eyes filled with a deep, profound sadness.
"I'm sorry, Evelyn. I truly am," She said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She leaned back in her chair, the shadow of her hand stroking the crease of her trousers.
"But we're here to understand if you could have helped him in his activity." She said solemnly
The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable echoing in the sterile room like a death knell. The beautiful officer’s eyes widened even more in shock, her hand frozen midway to her mouth as she tried to process the gravity of the black sergeant's statement. The room seemed to spin around her as she fought to make sense of the accusation. She felt a surge of anger, hot and fierce, boiling up from the pit of her stomach.
"You can't possibly think that I had anything to do with this," the beautiful officer snapped, her voice shaking with the force of her denial. "I would never betray my country, my career—my—my honor."
Lathifa's eyes narrowed, her expression hardening.
"I'm not accusing you of that, Evelyn," she said, her voice steady and calm. "But you need to understand that we have to explore all possibilities. And that includes your relationship with the captain."
Evelyn's eyes widened, her porcelain cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
"Relationship?" she echoed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "There is no relationship. He's... my boss, he's a colleague. A friend."
Lathifa leaned forward, her eyes boring into Evelyn's.
"A friend you've been seeing in secret. A friend whose house you've been visiting late at night. A friend whose wife and children have been conveniently away on weekends for the past few months," the black woman said, her voice laced with a mixture of sadness and frustration.
Evelyn recoiled as if she'd been slapped, her eyes widening in shock and denial.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've never—we never—"
Lathifa leaned forward, her gaze unwavering as she watched Evelyn struggle to find words.
"Evelyn, we have these photos and more. We have witnesses, including myself, who saw you coming and leaving his home at all hours of the night from Mac’s house when his wife and children were away.” Sergeant Blake said, “And the last time was not later than two days ago.”
Hearing that, the beautiful face of the young Navy officer twisted in a mask of surprise and panic, but before Evelyn could reply, the black woman hit her even harder a second time.
“Last weekend, Captain went out of town with his family,” Lathifa said, finally allowing her mouth to curve in a sadistic smile. “He came back alone on Monday morning, and you visited him every night until he left for Antarctica with the Admiral yesterday morning.”
The beautiful white woman in front of her seemed already on the verge of crying or even fainting; therefore, Sergeant Blake decided to finish her off with a final strike.
“And," Lathifa paused, her voice heavy with the weight of her words, "I have also these."
She reached into her personal bag, pulling out a thick, brown envelope. She slid it across the table, the sound of the paper against the metal echoing in the sterile room.
Evelyn's eyes darted to it, her breath catching in her throat as she saw her own name scrawled across the front in bold, black letters. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the envelope as she looked at the black woman, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Open it, Evelyn," Sergeant Blake said, her voice gentle yet firm.
The beautiful redhead hesitated, her fingers inches from the envelope, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. She could feel Lathifa's gaze on her, steady and unyielding, the weight of her expectation pressing down on her like a physical force. With a shaking hand, she reached out and pulled the envelope towards her, her eyes never leaving the black woman’s face.
Slowly, she slid her finger under the flap, feeling the rough edge of the paper as she pulled it open. She hesitated for a moment before reaching inside and pulling out a stack of photographs. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the first image. It was of her, in Captain McAlister's office, her back arched against the wall as he leaned into her, his hand snaking up her skirt.
The following pictures were probably taken a few minutes later, and they showed her wearing only black, lacy lingerie, a stark contrast to the crisp, white uniform she had worn just moments before. The actions immortalized in the pictures were undeniable.
The last pictures of the package were probably the crudest: they showed her orally servicing Captain McAllister behind the shelves of an archives. After a general overview of the action, the camera focused on the detail of her face while performing the “action,” showing an attitude more similar to an adult movie star than a respectable female Navy officer.
While she was browsing the picture, she heard Sergeant Blake saying with a detached tone, “NICS asked me to keep a discreet eye on anyone around Captain McAllister and took them myself. No one has seen them yet.”
The image sickened her, the betrayal of her own body, her own choices, stark and undeniable. She looked up at Lathifa, her eyes filled with a desperate plea for understanding, for absolution.
"Lathifa, I—I don't know what you want me to say," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her hands trembling as she held the incriminating photographs.
Immediately, Lathifa's expression softened, her voice gentle but firm.
"I want you to tell me the truth, Evelyn. Your affair with him is undeniable." The words were like a whip, slicing through the air, stinging with their brutal honesty.
Evelyn felt her face flush a deep shade of crimson, the heat of her embarrassment and shame spreading across her skin like wildfire. She looked down at the photographs in her hands, her fingers trembling as she clutched them, the images of her betrayal seared into her mind like a brand.
Lathifa's voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the silence like a knife. "Evelyn, look at me."
The beautiful officer hesitated, her chest heaving with each ragged breath, her heart pounding in her ears. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet Lathifa's gaze, her cheeks still burning with the heat of her humiliation. The black woman's expression was a mix of compassion and frustration, her eyes filled with a deep, profound sadness.
"Evelyn, I know this is hard. But you have to face it. You can't run from it anymore.” Lathifa leaned in, her voice low and urgent, her eyes never leaving Lieutenant Wood's blue one. " You and I both know what kind of relationship there is between you and your boss. You need to own up to it."
The white girl's breath hitched, her eyes widening in shock and fear as Sergeant Blake's words slammed into her. She could feel the weight of Lathifa's gaze, the intensity of her presence, and it was overwhelming. She looked away, her eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape, a way to avoid the truth that this black woman was forcing her to face. But there was nowhere to run. She was trapped, cornered, her lies and deceit laid bare for all to see. She felt a sob rise in her throat, the raw, aching vulnerability within her threatening to burst free. Sergeant Blake's words were like a slap, sharp and stinging, cutting through the haze of denial she'd been clinging to.
"Evelyn," Lathifa pressed, her voice steady, "did you just wear sexy lingerie and service him, or did you also help him in his business?"
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and ominous, like a dark cloud threatening to unleash a storm. Evelyn felt a cold shiver run down her spine, the reality of the black sergeant's accusation sinking in like a stone. She looked up at Lathifa, her eyes wide with shock and fear, her hands trembling as she clutched the incriminating photographs.
Lathifa's voice hardened, "You did, didn't you? You helped him."
Evelyn's breath hitched, her eyes widening in disbelief as the weight of Sergeant Blake's words crashed down on her.
She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper, "No, Lathifa. I swear, I didn't know anything about—"
The black woman cut her off, her voice sharp and cold. "Don't lie to me, Evelyn. Not now. NICS will check all the calls, the emails, and it will even search your office after it receives the result of my investigation. If you are involved, they will discover it.”
Lathifa's voice lashed out, each word a stinging accusation that Evelyn felt like a physical blow. She recoiled, her eyes wide with shock and denial.
"Lathifa, I swear to you, I didn't know anything about this. I had no idea what he was doing." The words tumbled out of her, a desperate plea for understanding, for absolution. "I plead not guilty, Lathifa. I didn't do anything wrong."
Her voice wavered, the raw emotion of her denial evident in every syllable. She looked up at Lathifa, her eyes filled with a desperate, pleading gaze.
"You have to believe me, Lathifa. You know me. You know I'm not a liar, Lathifa," Evelyn pleaded, her voice breaking as her eyes filled with tears. "You know me."
The words tumbled out, raw and desperate, as she looked into the black sergeant's eyes, searching for any shred of belief, any glimmer of understanding. But all she saw was a cold, unyielding stare that seemed to slice through her very soul. A single tear spilled over, tracing a path down her cheek before she quickly swiped it away, her fingers leaving a wet trail on her skin. She couldn't let Lathifa see her so vulnerable, so broken. She had to hold onto her dignity, her pride, even as the world crumbled around her. But the dam was breaking, the raw, aching vulnerability within her threatening to spill over.
Evelyn felt her body begin to shake, the tears she'd been holding back finally overflowing as she let out a choked sob, her shoulders heaving with the force of her emotions.
Lathifa's heartbeat pounded like an athlete’s just before winning a gold medal at the Olympics. She had finally won: the object of her sexual desires and her most private, perverse fantasies was broken at her feet, pleading for mercy. Her obsession was finally fulfilled, and a whole world of pleasures was about to open its gates for her to enjoy. She still couldn't believe it.
Sergeant Blake’s expression softened, the cold, unyielding stare replaced by what seemed a look of genuine concern. She reached out, her hand gentle as she brushed away the tears that stained Evelyn's cheeks.
"It's okay, Evelyn," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm against the pain that wracked the white girl's body. "Let it out. It's going to be okay."
Evelyn sobbed harder, her body racked with the force of her emotions. She felt a wave of shame wash over her, the betrayal of her actions, her choices, searing her soul like a brand. She was a failure, a traitor, a fool.
The weight of the black woman's words sent Evelyn crashing down into a sea of self-loathing, her body wracked with sobs that shook her to her core. Lathifa's hand on her shoulder was a faint comfort, a distant light in the dark abyss she was drowning in.
"Evelyn," Lathifa said, her voice steady and low, "I need you to listen to me. I'm not here to destroy you. I'm here to help you, to understand what happened."
Her grip on the beautiful red-haired girl's shoulder tightened slightly, grounding her as she continued.
"The pictures of your intimate moments with the Captain are not in the main folder yet. They are still being reviewed. Just you, me, and those photos exist for now. But Evelyn, you know this won't stay hidden forever, right?" The black woman said.
Lieutenant Wood's sobs began to subside as she looked up at the black sergeant, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and pleading.
"Can you... Can you keep them out of it?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from her tears. "I don't want anyone else to see them. Please, Lathifa. Please."
She knew the pictures were too explicit, showing her in intimate moments with McAllister —moments she had thought were private and sacred. The thought of anyone else seeing them, of her being judged and shamed for her dalliances, was almost unbearable.
Lathifa's expression softened, her grip on Evelyn's shoulder easing as she sighed."Evelyn, I want to help you, but I can't just sweep this under the rug."
Evelyn's voice became a whisper as she leaned into Lathifa, her eyes pleading, "Please, Lathifa. Please don't make me face this yet. Not like this."
She could feel the weight of the black woman's gaze, the unspoken question lingering in the air between them. The silence stretched out, heavy and tense, as Evelyn waited for Lathifa's response.
Lathifa hesitated, her fingers tracing small, absent patterns on Evelyn's shoulder. She knew she should press, but she also knew that she needed to measure the pressure wisely, avoiding crushing her prey instead of caging it. And soon, after Lieutenant Wood opens up, she will also understand the strength needed to exploit her vulnerabilities and fears.
"Evelyn," Lathifa finally said, her voice steady and low, "I don't know what you want me to do. It depends on whether you will be cooperative."
Evelyn's eyes widened, the desperation in them replaced by a sudden spark of defiance.
"What do you mean, cooperative?" she asked, her voice steadier than before, a hint of her usual assertiveness creeping back into her tone.
Sergeant Blake held her gaze, her expression unreadable as she said, "I mean, will you tell the truth? Will you explain what happened? Why did you get involved with McAlister? Because I need to know, Evelyn. I need to understand what went on here."
Lathifa's voice was firm, yet not unkind —a subtle shift from the harsh interrogator to something more personal and compassionate.
"Do you understand what I'm saying, Evelyn? I need you to talk to me. I need to know what happened," Lathifa kept pressing.
The beautiful officer nodded, her eyes flicking away from the black sergeant's intense gaze, her fingers twisting in her lap. She took a deep breath, the air in the sterile room suddenly heavy with the weight of her confession. She had never been good at talking about her feelings, her desires, her weaknesses. She was a soldier, a strategist, a commander. She was not someone who exposed her vulnerabilities, not even to herself. But as she looked at Sergeant Blake, her expression open and patient, she knew she had no choice. It was time to face the truth, to confront the demons she had been running from for so long.
"It started as nothing," Evelyn began, her voice barely above a whisper, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Just... just a moment of weakness. I was lonely, Lathifa. So lonely."
She looked up at Lathifa, her eyes filled with a desperate, pleading gaze, as if seeking understanding, absolution. The older black woman's expression remained unchanged, her eyes steady, her arms folded across her chest. Despite her calm posture, she felt triumphant inside, because the beautiful redhead girl was indeed opening up, making her taming process easier. Evelyn took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to reveal.
"McAlister was there, offering me... comfort. And I took it. I took it, and it became more. I let it become... everything." She trailed off, her voice choked with tears, her eyes cast down to the table, unable to meet Lathifa's gaze.
She talked for half an hour, revealing every detail of her sexual relationship with Captain McAlister to her interrogator, her voice echoing in the sterile confines of the interrogation room. She could feel Sergeant Blake's steady, unwavering gaze on her as she poured out her story—a raw, unfiltered confession of her deepest secrets and darkest fears. Lathifa mentally recorded each detail Evelyn disclosed and processed the information quickly. Evelyn was clearly far from being the tough woman she wanted to appear outside. She was secretly submissive, easily falling into that role in front of a strong-willed person, and McAlister had taken advantage of that. Coming from a religious, strict Southern family, Evelyn had been sexually repressed for years; she had never entirely accepted her own sexuality and was very vulnerable to physical pleasure. McAlister also exploited this. As a skilled domme, Lathifa rapidly devised a new plan to exploit these vulnerabilities.
“Evelyn," the black woman said, her voice firm but not unkind, "probably there is a way to save yourself and maybe also Captain McAlister.”
The blue eyes of the beautiful young officer immediately lit up, and her lips formed a hopeful smile upon hearing Sergeant Blake’s words. Lathifa let out a gentle sigh, her expression softening as she reached out, her colored hand tenderly brushing away a stray tear that traced a line down Evelyn’s cheek. After the cheek, her hand continued to move toward Evelyn's shoulder, holding it gently as she spoke.
