The Arctic Magistrate
By K.A Moulton
a vulturous businessman falls prey to beauty and power    


Ronald Gobfried awoke utterly naked. His skin bristled, and the cold air felt like ten 
thousand compass beaks. He focused away from the more obvious pain burning his wrists 
and ankles to the blurry face four inches from his own. He wanted to speak, but the 
object in his mouth only permitted clay vowels and saliva. His thoughts were a 
kaleidoscope tumbling down a crooked staircase. Ronald panicked.

"Come on, come on."

Ronald saw her face and assumed it was a dream. Here was pain. There was beauty. Who 
are you? Why does it hurt so much? Where am I? What the fuck is going on?

"There you are. Now, what do you think?" she said, backing away. She had long, shiny 
black hair, poker-straight. Her face glowed pallid and satin smooth. Her eyes seemed to 
lack pigment, or hold too much; the blackest eyes he had ever seen. They were not round 
and occidental, but long, with the look of Western China or Tibet. She stood around 5'10, 
approximately Ronald's height, robed completely in a lush, cream fur cape that grazed 
the floor. Without thinking, he knew it was one of his.

"You like? I hope you don't mind. I just had to have one, and you have so many!" She 
cruelly sneered and turned completely for show. He looked around him. He was in a 
warehouse of some sort. Cold light flooded through industrial, filthy windows on the left 
side, yet seemed to empty, leaving the right side dark and vaguely silhouetted against 
another long array of windows. He could make out machine shapes and workbenches as 
his eyes adjusted. It was not really so cold, just that he was so naked. This was no dream. 
Ronald writhed against what felt like a brick wall. It hurt to move. There was chafing and 
sharp edges, and something pulling down on him, something pulling down on his groin. 
He tried to look down, but middle age was in the way.

"You know…" the woman said, "…there is actually no white in a polar bear's fur. Look 
what happens when I stand over here." She glided over to the dark side of the room. He 
could only see her face. She looked ghostly and menacing as her smile curled in the 
darkness. "See, the hair is actually translucent. The sun is what gives it a white 
appearance. That's why you can't see them at night. I've got to tell you though, it is 
incredibly warm and soft.' She ran swiftly toward him. A clack of hard soles echoed the 
room. "Are you cold?" she stroked the cape's plush collar. "I'll just bet you'd like me to 
put this on you right now." Ronald shivered, nodding his head; eyes bulging like a tied 
rabbit. He knew all that she was telling him. It was getting colder, and that cape was his 
business.

"But we haven't been properly introduced," she stated ipso facto. "I'm Janis Zxiamou, 
arctic zoologist extraordinaire. I work for National Geographic. You may have heard of 
the magazine." She paced, her index finger tapping against her chin. "You are, of course, 
Ronald Wesley Hazen Gobfried IV, philanthropist, entrepreneur, and dealer in 
endangered species commodities." She halted an inch away from his face. "It is your 
displeasure to meet me." 

Ronald Wesley Hazen Gobfried IV had never felt one moment of vulnerability in his 
entire 46 years. It was all catching up in this room, at this moment. No, no, no. He would 
deny everything, simply phone his lawyer, and be back at the Chateau Joliet sipping 
espresso and playing backgammon with his accountant before the weekend. This was 
utter nonsense. The nerve of this silly tart. She didn't know what kind of man she was 
dealing with. He turned his nose up and rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

"See, Ronald, I'm a special sort of police officer. My jurisdiction is rather vague, you 
might say. I watch over the places in this world that have no streetlights or gutters or 
warm, smoky pubs. You have to have someone to protect these places. My methods are 
not something that would be smiled upon politically, or in line with your reasonable 
doubt run-of-the-mill morality, but they are quite effective. You are cold, oh, I know. 
But I'm used to the cold. I spend most of my time in it, most of my time tracking your 
employees, and ultimately, people just like you. At first I hated it, but after the years 
of numbness, it became rather comfortable." The fur spilled onto the floor. Ronald's stoic 
resistance collapsed as his eyes ogled the body of a stone-white goddess.

Janis stood before him in a black lace half-bra, strapless, with her nipples exposed, a 
matching garter belt and stockings, 3 inch black patent pumps, and nothing else. Her 
body was powerfully suited; a bodybuilder, and she knew that Ronald had a certain 
weakness for women with muscle. She knew almost everything about him. Being strong 
and muscular made it easier to withstand the rigors of her often brutally physical job day 
in and day out, and, as luck would have it, much easier to find one Ronald Wesley Hazen 
Gobfried IV. 

She removed the sock from his mouth. Ronald coughed and spit, breathing as if he'd 
been under water all this time. His first instinct was to protest about everything. He was 
born into a world where saving face was natural and effortless, particularly in regards to 
women. "Madam, I do hope you know that the consequences of my kidnapping will be 
very severe. I am an important man. I will be missed if I'm gone for long. Someone will 
come looking." He urgently, uncontrollably regarded Janis, who stood three feet away. 
His composure began to falter; yet he remained defiant.

Janis stood back a little and ran her fingers through the back of her hair. "You must be 
freezing by the look of that." She grinned, glancing at his withered genitals. "Humph, 
very cold indeed. I wonder how we can warm you up a bit." Janis reached behind her 
lower back and produced a cigarette lighter. She picked up the cape, lit one end, and set it 
over a small pile of wood between them. 

"Hey! That is a $32,000 cape, lady!" Ronald gasped, watching it catch fast, oblivious to 
the fact that his skin wasn't so cold all of a sudden.

"Nothing like a cozy fire, eh, Ronnie? Yes I know, full skin, top of the line, poacher 
commission 20%, all that crap. But I want you to be comfortable while you watch me. I 
could use a bit of warming up myself; muscles are a bit cold." The fire illuminated her 
body with gold and white. Janis shook her heavy quadriceps. They swayed deliberately 
back and forth, one at a time. Then she shook out her arms, letting the mass of her large 
biceps swing freely. Ronald's attention was had. Her arms were very large and vascular, 
abdomen cut into perfect bricks, shoulders broad and swollen with muscle, but she had a 
soft glow to her lovely skin and a small pair of breasts that endowed the uniqueness of a 
muscular woman. Ronald had some experience with female bodybuilders, to be sure, but 
this was the most gorgeous one he had ever seen. Her symmetry was mirror-like, joints 
formidable, yet tiny, muscle bellies full and inserted to an artist's touch. She was fiction. 
This could not be happening.

It took a minute, several in fact, but he noticed that the warehouse was no longer 
obscured in darkness. Flags of light shimmered onto the greasy equipment and bled into 
the steel framework of the ceiling. There was a heavy chrome chain on the floor that 
ended a few feet from where Janis stood. But now she was dancing for him. His eyes 
bulged and heart thumped as her body moved like a weightless fluid to the crackling fire. 
She began methodically flexing each muscle group. He gaped now, mindless of the 
expensive clothing burning to ash there on the floor, as she playfully fondled her own 
right breast, letting her fingers pluck the pert nipple, and flexed her enormous left biceps 
over and over and over again. He felt the rush of hot blood begin to fill his cock, which 
was feeling so unusually heavy for some reason. He didn't know, didn't really care either 
for the moment. She became one giant wave of interconnected muscle, reaching up 
toward the ceiling, her stomach lengthening and contracting effortlessly. It was too much 
for him. His breathing became uncontrollable. His cock was getting hard. Her beautiful, 
sinister smile opened the glimmer of perfectly white teeth as she watched his cock swell.

There was a grunt coming somewhere from the left, over by all that machinery. He 
looked down at the chain again, looked back helplessly at Janis, followed the chain over 
to a…

It was a cage, and there was something in it, something very big. She began to giggle. 
Something, he thought, something is attached to my cock. He turned his head. His cock 
was almost completely hard, pulling, pulling. It was tugging at a thin black strap that ran 
somewhat parallel to the chain, but it was taut and three feet off the ground. The strap 
was attached to that cage, to the latch on top of the cage. The fire held steady. He locked 
his eyes back on Janis, who now stood just inches from the fire. Her black eyes reflected 
the orange flames. It was the first time he had seen her pupils. They were pinpointed and 
cruel. A thundering roar echoed through the building. It was a reddened, full-grown polar 
bear.

Janis cradled her chin in hand. "I see you've figured it out, my little surprise. Look at me 
Ronald, have you ever seen muscles like these? Hmmm?" He felt his cock harden more. 
She kicked the fire aside He couldn't let it get hard! At full mast it would release the 
giant bear.

"Stop it!" he screamed.

"Oh, okay, so watching isn't good enough. I know, let's say…" she carefully kicked the 
fire to one side and stepped toward him "…I let you touch me." He was in hell. He was 
the pathetic manifestation of Sisyphus and this was hell all right. "How would you like to 
lick this bicep of mine, Ronald? Put out your tongue and you can lick it. Look how big!" 
Then she whispered, "I'll bet you would just love to place that cock between my forearm 
and biceps, and let me flllexxx" Janis hypertrophied her biceps one centimeter from his 
face. His eyes would have popped out of his skull if they could. He knew he couldn't do 
it; his cock was almost fully erect. But look at that muscle, he thought, look at that 
beautifully marbled orb of flesh just waiting for my mouth. I've got to have one little 
taste. Now cock, don't you get hard. He opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, 
engorged his cock fully, and then heard the latch give.

Janis ran back to the chain and wrapped it round her forearm as the 500-pound beast 
bounded toward Ronald. Janis yelled something, and the bear, now in full light, halted 
little more than a yard from Ronald. Its black gums were frothing, its onyx-black eyes 
filled with murder. The man screamed like a schoolgirl. The chrome chain was suspended 
tightly. Janis' arms bulged wildly, and her spiked heels were firmly spread apart as she 
held the giant beast at bay. 

"Ooooh, Niamh, you're hungry, aren't you girl?" The bear's huge jaws reached out for 
Ronald; its large, yellow fangs dripping with saliva. Niamh roared so loudly that it 
echoed through the warehouse like a train engine. Ronald pissed all over his own leg, his 
prick now flaccid and clownish. 

"Get it away!"

Niamh was snapping. "Ronald Wesley Hazen Gobfried IV, that is no "it", that is, or was, 
a mama. Your poachers killed her 4-month-old cub, Ronny old boy. Did you know that?" His mind 
was a tug of war. There was this bloody beast dying to tear out his throat, and over there was 
the incredible Janis holding it back with amazing, powerful, painfully beautiful feminine 
strength. He couldn't take his eyes from her, even with the bear ready to rip his body apart. 
It was something mythical: The huge yellow bear, the spiked collar, the thick chain, the leather-
clad goddess holding back the force and terror of death. He was out of his fucking mind.

"Now, Janis, Ma'am; there's no need for all of this. I haven't killed any animals. In f-f-
fact, I don't even know how to fire a gun. Let's try to be reasonable about all of this. I'm 
just an innocent b-b-businessman."

Janis cocked her head. "Just a businessman. Yes I know. Shut the fuck up, Ronald." He 
grinned stupidly, cold with sweat, eyebrows tangled in abject desperation.

"You're finished being a businessman, Ronald. I expect a full confession by the time I 
count to ten. You will say it, then you will sign it, and go on record before we're through 
today. One, two, three…"

"Miss, uh, wha-whatsyername again?"

"Zxiamou."

"Miss Zxiamou, why don't we make a deal, hmmm? I could make you very co-co-
comfortable, eh? How about, he-he, how about fifty thousand, wouldn't that be nice? I 
could get you the mon…"

"Six, seven…"

"…I could get you the money by this afternoon. One hundred thousand?"

Janis growled. "Of course, sure, the money you made from poaching, right? Eight, nine…"

"Yes, I mean, no, no, I don't do that…"

"Ten." 

Janis Zxiamou felt ashamed, letting Niamh go without eating for so long that day. She 
hated to watch; such a guilty pleasure, but there was something poetic and rather satisfying 
about seeing such a graceful animal devour a good, multi-million dollar meal.