Chapter 1

I should have known that she was trouble the moment she darkened my door. She sauntered in. Her bright, tailored, designer clothes were a stark contrast with my gloomy, run-down office. I don't know why I continued to come in every day. I hadn't had a client in months - not since the Kandinsky case. But with my bank account getting smaller than the tits on a gymnast, I had to do something.

That something, as it turned out, was the oldest profession in the world. Back in my college days I was able to turn a quick buck offering my 'services' to any gal who was looking for a roll in the hay with a big, strong, handsome ROTC cadet with no strings attached. Now, with my caseload non-existent, I decided to put my services on offer once again. Though after my college days I'd acquired a few more 'special' skills that appealed to a certain niche in the market. This town seemed to have no shortage of broads who'd pay to have a dom come beat their ass red and make them beg to fuck them till their toes curled.

I hadn't been expecting any prospective clients to show up in person - most of my business was initiated online. In fact, I only kept the office because the lease was already paid through the end of the year. Besides, I kinda liked the way my name looked stenciled on the door: Bull Brigham - Private Dick. Heh, still worked.

She brushed her long, blond curls behind her shoulders and sat down across from my desk. My goodness, she was beautiful. She had a face right off of a magazine cover - bright blue eyes, perfect teeth, high cheekbones. Everything about this broad screamed 'high class'. I could see her eyes follow the line of newspaper clippings that I kept framed on the wall behind me. They traced the highlights of my career as a private eye: missing persons found, murders solved, high profile swindlers brought to justice; ending with the final clipping - the mayor vigorously shaking my hand as he gave me a commendation. You could see the chief of police fuming in the background. My greatest accomplishment, and the end of my career.

"I'm looking for a man," she said finally.

"Well, you found one darling," I replied as I brought my feet down from my desk and set down my crossword puzzle.

"Word has it around town that you know how to treat a girl just the way she deserves. I'm finding myself in need of a little... attention." She leaned forward over my desk as she said this, and I couldn't help but glance down and admire her beautiful tits as they threatened to spill out from behind her blazer.

"You got a name, Sweetcheeks?"

"Jessica. Jessica Pendleton," she said as she brushed some crumbs off of a chair and sat down across from me.

The name didn't ring a bell. If she was one of the moneyed elite that ran this town, then she must have done so from behind the scenes.

"And what about your husband?" I asked, noticing the huge rock on her left hand. That little piece of bling could've paid my salary for a year. "Doesn't he give you any attention?"

Her eyes dropped slightly, suggesting perhaps that this was a sore spot. "We have an arrangement. He has his dalliances, and I have mine."

"I see," I replied, taking note. I knew better than to take her at her word. It wouldn't be the first time that a lonely, unfulfilled wife partook in my services behind her husband's back. I wasn't looking to take a pipe to the back of the head while I was ball's deep in an unfaithful, lying cunt. Of course, there were also plenty of couples who got off on having the husband watch while I 'degraded' his wife. The man sat in the corner, sometimes I'd tie him up, and then he got a front row seat while I dominated his woman, making her beg me to do all sorts of things that she would never do for her hubby.

"Why don't you fill this out so that I can get a better idea of what you're looking for?"

I handed her a clipboard with a list of the services I provided. She took it in hand, crossing her legs and leaning back. I could see her eyes grow hungry as she read down the list and eagerly started marking off what she wanted. I waited and admired the view. Her long, smooth legs went on for days. I couldn't tell if she was wearing sheer silk stockings or if her legs were just naturally that luscious. The way her high heels shaped her lower body left me wanting to know what was hiding underneath her skirt.

She finished with the form and handed it back to me. I quickly perused it - this chick was looking for an adventure. I was happy to oblige.

"If you're looking for bareback, then I'll need to see a clean test," I noted as I read down the list. "I am, of course, willing to show you my own. You can never be too careful in this business."

Some chicks would be offended by this. But not her. "Way ahead of you, big boy." She reached into her expensive tan Birkin bag, pulled out some papers, and handed them to me. "Bareback is something of a house rule," she added demurely. "Among other things."

Everything checked out. I was already mentally preparing what I had planned for this sexy minx. And I have to admit, I was looking forward to it. It's not that my other clients were unattractive - every woman is beautiful in her own way. But it's not every day that a gorgeous high-class braud falls into your lap and asks you to do almost whatever you want to her.

"When do you want me to come by?" I asked.

"Are you free tomorrow evening?"

I knew that I was, but I opened my day book anyway - it's important to keep up appearances. "I think I can squeeze you in," I told her. "Where would you like to meet? I can recommend a few discrete hotels that don't mind a little bit of a ruckus."

"That won't be necessary. I want you to come to my place." She wrote down the address on a slip of paper and slid it across my desk. "Be there at six."

"You got it, doll. I think the only thing left is to discuss my rate," I said.

She almost seemed put off by the presumption that I should be paid for my services. Granted, I'd gladly fuck such a divine beauty for free, but a man's got to eat. "I find discussing money to be distasteful. You may charge whatever rate that you deem is fair. You can send the bill to my accountant, John. He takes care of those sorts of things." She wrote down the info and handed it to me.

"Ok. It's a date," I said. "I will see you tomorrow. I hope you're ready to get what you deserve." I gave her a wink.

With a coy nod she picked up her purse and made for the door. My goodness, she looked as good going as she did coming. My cock was getting hard just thinking about what I'd do to her tomorrow. But for now I picked up my crossword again. Next clue - 23 down, six letters, starting with M - [blank] Most Foul.

Chapter 2

Just by driving through Jessica's neighborhood I felt like I was lowering the property values. I made my way to the address she had given me. There wasn't much to see from the street - the entire property was surrounded by a tall ivy-covered brick wall. I buzzed the intercom at the end of the drive and the gate swung open. I slowly rolled up the driveway to the house, admiring the view - lush green gardens, marble statues, stunning fountains, everything impeccably maintained.

I stopped in front of the entrance and tossed my keys to the attendant who was standing there waiting. He looked more nervous getting in to drive my shit heap than he did driving the Maserati that he had just pulled around.

I climbed the stairs to the huge double doors. Before I could even raise my hand to the knocker, the door opened.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Brigham," a French accented voice called from within. "Welcome. Please come in."

I stepped into the exquisitely furnished front hall and was taken aback. Standing before me was a gorgeous brunette wearing one of those stereotypical French maid outfits. Never in my life had I seen one worn by an actual maid, and a French one at that. Though this outfit was just as sexy and revealing, perhaps even more so, than the fetishized version that you see in popular culture. Her short black skirt with fluffy white lace underneath barely covered her panties. I could clearly see the lacy tops of the black thigh high stockings on her shapely legs. Her waist was pulled impossibly thin, making me suspect that she wore a tight corset underneath her uniform. Her milky white tits were proudly lifted up on her chest by it. There was a bulky bump beneath the dress at the tip of each breast - nipple clamps, I guessed.

She looked at me with sultry, seductive brown eyes, rapidly batting her eyelashes in a flirty manner. Her cheeks were dusted a light, rosy pink with rouge and her pouty lips had been painted bright red. She wore a tiny black lacy cap to restrain her bountiful curly chestnut hair and she wore a thin leather collar locked around her skinny neck.

"I am Collette. Madame Pendleton will be with you shortly. Please let me know if there is anything I can get you in the meantime," the maid said with a curtsey.

I handed her my coat and hat. She grabbed them and spun around on her six inch heels. It must have been torture to work all day in those shoes - I liked it. I watched her fluffy skirt bounce as she made her way to the coat closet. She bent down to hang my hat on a hook and I saw right up her dress. The black satin panties covering her curvy round ass bulged at the rear, suggesting that she had a truly massive butt plug filling her up inside. A tight leather strap parted her legs, running from front to back over her panties making sure the plug wouldn't go anywhere. It was pulled so tight that I could clearly see the cleft in her pussy where the leather had nestled in between her labia, cramming her panties up into her cunt.

I looked around the foyer. This place was rich - thick Persian rugs, fine leather sofas, priceless oil paintings, crystal chandeliers. But I could immediately see past it all to what this place really was - a brothel. There was the smell in the air, the bowl of condoms discretely placed on the side table beneath a vase full of flowers, the general feeling of lust and desire everywhere you looked. Sure, they could dress it up, but there was no disguising it.

Collette came up behind me and squeezed my bicep between her small hands. "Mmm, Madame is so lucky to be visited by such a big, strong man," she purred. I could feel her press up against me. Yep, definitely nipple clamps on those tits.

"And where is Mr. Pendleton today?" I asked, wondering if I'd have to risk dealing with a jealous husband.

"He is currently out of town, but he will be back shortly," she replied. "But you don't have to worry about him. Lately he spends all his time on his latest 'project.' I doubt you'll see him."

The way she said it seemed to suggest that she didn't wholly approve of whatever this project was. Or perhaps it was her whom she wished he'd spend his time on.

Before I could ask any further questions, Jessica appeared at the top of the stairs. The woman sure knew how to make an entrance. She wore an elegant black evening dress. The plunging neckline reached down almost to her navel. The soft white flesh on her upper chest gleamed with the dozens of diamonds arrayed within an intricate gold necklace. More diamonds sparkled from her pierced ears beneath her impeccably styled blond hair. I'm a sucker for a woman in stockings and heels, and she was certainly no exception. I was getting harder than a priest in an elementary school just watching her as she seductively descended the stairs.

"Mr. Brigham, welcome. I see that you found the place alright," she said warmly. "I hope Collette hasn't been bothering you?" She gave a derisive sneer at the French maid. "Don't you have some dusting to do or something?"

"Oui Madame." Collette gave a quick curtsy and retrieved her feather duster from the closet, then scurried out of the room.

"Come, Bull. Let's head upstairs," Jessica suggested.

I let her show me the way, admiring the view from behind as she led me up the stairs and into a large bedroom dominated by a massive four-post bed.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Whiskey? A martini?"

"Maybe later," I said. I liked to keep my head clear while I was working. Jessica poured herself a cocktail from a table on the side of the room. She finished it in a few gulps - nerves, perhaps? I assumed I wasn't the first dom she'd played with, given the list of dirty things that she was into. After downing her drink she stood up.

"I need to go tell Collette that we are not to be disturbed," she said. "Why don't you get set up while I go do that?"

She stepped out of the room and I began unpacking my things - ropes, gags, cuffs, et cetera - the tools of my trade. I looked around the room checking to see if there was anything else I might want to make use of. I had a general idea of how I wanted things to go, but you never know when inspiration might strike.

After keeping me waiting for a few minutes, Jessica returned. She checked herself in the mirror and frowned. "Bull, could you hand me the lipstick from my purse next to you?" I dug into her bag and gave her the tube. I thought she looked perfect as is, and besides, by the time I was done with her she'd probably be sporting a lovely set of black tears down her beautiful blushed cheeks.

She quickly touched up her makeup while I decided to lay down a few important rules. "Your safe word is peppermint," I said. "If you're gagged then you'll give me three loud grunts. Got it?"

"This is your collar," I said, holding up the black leather item. "While you are wearing this I am your master and you are my slave. You do what I say, when I say it." I stepped towards her and buckled the collar around her slender neck - it looked good on her. I could feel her pulse quicken as my large hands touched her soft skin. "Repeat back your safe word."

"Peppermint," she said, her cheeks starting to blush.

"Are we ready to begin?" I asked.

"Yes," she purred.

Slap! My palm connected to her cheek. Her head spun to the side. "That's 'yes, sir' you disrespectful cunt."

I clearly caught her by surprise. She looked back at me, her cheek glowing red with my handprint. Maybe I was a little rougher than she was used to. Slap! My other hand struck her across the opposite cheek.

"Don't you dare look me in the eye," I growled. "Do you think you're my equal? Get on your knees, slut!"

She quickly dropped to her knees and cast her eyes to the floor. I slowly circled my prey. I could see her chest heaving as her breathing quickened. I moved up behind her and slipped her dress down off her shoulders. Underneath she wore nothing but a garter belt and stockings. Her pert, perky tits stood proudly out from her chest. Her nipples were erect with arousal. Her clean-shaven cunt peeked out from between her firm thighs, framed nicely by her sexy black lingerie. I admired her pale, round ass. I imagined how nice it would look after my cane had bounced off it a few times. But first things first.

"Hands behind your back, slut!"

She quickly crossed her wrists together at the small of her back. I could have tied them together like that, but that would be going too easy on her. I repositioned her arms so that her elbows met at the center of her back. Then I grabbed a length of rope and bound them in place. She gave a soft grunt as I cinched the rope tight, drawing her arms together and forcing her to thrust out her chest. I brought the rope down to her wrists and tied them together with her palms facing inward. I wrapped the extra length of rope from her wrists around her waist. Once I pulled it tight and tied it off her arms were trapped up against her back with her shoulders pulled back and her tits presented nicely.

I reached around her and grabbed a breast in each hand. They were just as delightful as they looked - soft skin, nice and firm, big enough to be a handful, but not too big for her small frame. She leaned back against me and cooed as I massaged her fun bags.

"Do you like it when I play with your tits, slut?" I asked.

"Mmmm, yes," she purred.

I swiftly grasped her nipples between the tips of my fingers and pinched hard, then twisted. "Argh!" she howled as she tried and failed to squirm out of my grasp.

"That's 'yes, sir', you dumb cunt!" She must have had particularly sensitive nipples. I could hear her breathing grow ragged as I twisted and pulled at her sensitive buds, squeezing then releasing then squeezing again.

"I bet that mouth of yours gets you into plenty of trouble. Eh, slut?"

"Yes, sir," she grunted through clenched teeth.

"Do you still like it when I play with your tits, slut?"

This time she hesitated before finally saying yes. At least she was an agreeable little cunt.

"Maybe I'll give them a little break. But you've got to earn it."

I came around in front of her and took out a long thin cord and looped it around the base of one tit. I wrapped it around the base several more times, pulling it snug until her breast bulged into a tight round ball. Then I looped the cord around her other tit the same way. I took the ends of the cord and brought them up to her face.

"Open," I commanded. She obeyed and I held the ends of the cord up between her teeth. "Bite down." She did. "If that cord slips even a little bit off of those tits then you're going to regret it. Got it?"

"Yesh shir," she acknowledged through her clenched jaw. She had to tip her chin up to keep enough tension on the cords to hold them in place. I could already see her lovely pale tits starting to color to a darker hue.

I stepped back and sat down on the edge of an ornate trunk that was positioned up against the wall. "Come here cunt. It's time for your spanking."

She slowly got up from the floor, careful to keep her head up and to not lose her balance with her arms pinned behind her back. She sauntered over to me. She still wore her heels. They tapped on the hard floor with each step. My, she was a sight to behold.

When she got close to me she again she carefully draped herself across my lap. I bet she could feel my hard cock as it pressed against her belly. She settled into place with her ass pointed into the air. I could feel her wriggling with anticipation. I didn't keep her waiting long.

Smack! She moaned as my large hand landed square across her smooth, round butt. I let her savor the sting, then I spanked her again. Smack, pause, smack, pause, smack. I took my time spacing out each blow. I could see her ass grow more and more pink with every strike. Her composure started to waver as I persisted. I could sense that perhaps she'd had enough. Too bad. I hadn't had enough. I thought her ass could stand to be a shade or two redder. Smack! Smack! Smack!

Finally, I relented. "Alright, slut," I said as I shunted her off of my lap and onto the floor. "Go sit on the bed."

She stood up and faced me before turning to obey. Her pretty face was flushed red and streaked with black tears. Still pretty, but in a more raw, distressed sort of way. I looked at her tits. Through the spanking she'd managed to hold the tension on the cords. Her bulging breasts glowed a light shade of purple under the strain.

She moved a little more stiffly now as she made her way to the bed. Her ass was a bright, beautiful red. Maybe I'd spanked a little bit of the classiness out of the bitch. I could see her wince as her burning ass made contact with the quilt atop the bed. She kept her chin tipped up to the ceiling, holding the cords tight around her tits. I was impressed that she'd still managed to hold on so far. I reached up and pinched the tips of her bulging breasts. She moaned, but made no effort to pull away.

"Open your mouth," I ordered. I could sense the relief as she complied. I unwound the cords from her tits and massaged the blood back into them. "Let's see if that mouth is good for anything else."

I pulled my cock out of my pants. Her eyes immediately locked onto it. I'm a little bigger than average, but she didn't even hesitate to slip her mouth around it. I pulled my hands away, letting her do all the work. She bobbed her head up and down, wetting the entire length of my dick with her saliva. Then, before I could even order her to, she steeled herself and swallowed the entire length of my cock down her throat. This bitch was certainly no stranger to a cock in her mouth. It was glorious.

I allowed myself a moment or two to fully enjoy this first rate blowjob, then it was back to work. I waited for her to swallow my dick again, then I grabbed onto her head and really started fucking her face. In. Out. In. Out. Long deep strokes. In. Then I held her there - ten seconds, twenty. She began to run out of breath. I could feel her struggle to pull herself back, but my strong grip kept my cock buried in her throat. Her composure broke and she started to panic. Her throat convulsed with her stifled pleas. I wondered if she remembered how to signal her safe word. Her hands clenched and unclenched in their tied position behind her back. Her face started to turn blue. I could feel her movements becoming more frantic. Her desperation grew. Maybe she really thought this was the end - she'd die with my dick lodged in her throat.

Finally, with the eye of an experienced dom, I pulled my cock completely out of her mouth just as I sensed she'd pass out. She coughed and choked for breath, her eyes watering.

"Lay face down on the bed," I ordered, indifferent to her distress. "Now!" I added, with a slap across the face to knock her out of her stupor. She quickly spun around and laid on the bed.

I snatched up some ropes and climbed up next to her. I grabbed her left leg and tied the end of one rope around her slender stockinged ankle, then I pulled it up against her left thigh and bound it there. I did the same with her other ankle.

"Spread those legs, slut!" I commanded with a slap on her red ass. She did and I got a great view of her glistening shaved pussy. I slipped two fingers into her snatch and they easily slid all the way in. This bitch was wetter than springtime in Seattle. I finger fucked her for a little bit. She greedily thrust her thirsty pussy back to meet each jab from my hand.

I pulled my fingers free and wiped her juices all over her face. "You're a horny little slut, aren't you?" I asked as I went back for more.

"Yes, sir," she purred while I slathered her face with her own pussy juice until she glistened.

"Tell me what you are."

"I'm a horny little slut. I'm a worthless whore. Fuck me. Use me. Treat me like I deserve."

She knew just how to talk to a man. But I'd heard enough from her. I grabbed a nice big ball gag and rubbed it on her pussy to collect some more of her effusive juices, then I shoved it into her mouth. I pulled it tight so that the ball popped in behind her teeth. She looked lovely with a big gag in her mouth.

That wasn't enough for her, though. She was still too comfortable. I grabbed a handful of her luscious blond hair and knotted a rope around it. Then I yanked her head back until her neck wouldn't bend any further and I tied off the rope into the ones holding her elbows pressed together. I could see the tightness of her bondage as she struggled against the sharp pull on her scalp and the severe angle of her neck.

I watched my frog-tied victim writhe for a moment. Drool began to dribble out of her gagged mouth. Then I gave her red ass another slap and dragged her to the edge of the bed. I slipped my cock back out of my pants. I could feel her anticipation as I lined it up with her cunt. Slowly now, I entered her. Just the tip.

I was right about to start pounding her in earnest when I suddenly heard a loud, anguished scream come from downstairs, followed by a loud crash and the sound of dishes shattering. Given where I was and the kind of activities that I had deduced went on here, an anguished scream wasn't entirely out of place. But there was something different about this one.

"What was that?" I said, more to myself than to Jessica.

My detective instincts immediately kicked in. I slipped my dick out of Mrs. Pendleton's wet pussy and tucked it back into my pants. I loosened the knot that held together my client's wrists and elbows then I hurried out of the room. When I made it to the top of the stairs I could immediately see what had caused the commotion - there was a man sprawled facedown on the floor. He was shirtless but wearing a leather executioner's half-hood over his head. From the way he was laying he was clearly unconscious, at best.

Crouched over the man's body was the French maid, Collette. The silver tray she was carrying had been dropped to the floor several feet away and the porcelain tea service on top of it had been smashed into a thousand pieces on the marble tile. This was the crash I had heard, and it must have been Collette's scream that had preceded it.

The woman was very clearly upset. Tears flowed freely down her face. She knelt down next to the man and lifted his head to cradle it in her lap. "Colin! Colin! Wake up! Please!" she begged. She looked up at me as I quickly descended the stairs. "You have to do something! Save him! Please!"

I raced over to perform CPR, but when I rolled him over I could see that his chest wasn't moving. His face was blue. I checked his pulse - there was none. He was dead.

"He's gone," I told Collette.

"No! No! Colin!" she howled with fresh tears flowing down her face.

By now the commotion had drawn the other denizens of the mansion into the room. There was a distinguished man in a three piece suit who, upon seeing the deceased, suddenly grew very pale as if he was looking at his own dead body lying slumped on the floor. He ran his fingers through his black slicked-back hair and sat down on the leather sofa, seemingly lost in thought.

There was a young fella with a truly terrible mustache, wearing gray coveralls and still holding the bag of trash that presumably he'd been taking out when he had been drawn to the scene. He kept looking at the body and then in turn at each person in the room, almost as if he expected someone to leap at him next. He sidled up against the wall, looking like he wished he could disappear into it.

A moment later an older man wearing a cowboy hat arrived at the top of the stairs. He was half dressed and followed by a young woman wearing nothing but a bedsheet. He peeked down at the scene and froze, then quickly returned back to the room he had come from.

I turned as I heard a heavy lock click in the sturdy door behind me. It swung open and I found myself face to face with a gorgeous vixen. She stared at me with a gaze that could have melted iron. I couldn't help but step out of her way. When I did her eyes dropped to the dead man on the floor. The expression on her face as she peered at the deceased could best be described as contempt.

She stepped into the room ascending from the stairs behind the heavy door. She wore a tight leather catsuit that closely hugged every magnificent curve. A tight corset emphasized her narrow waist and propped up her big, round tits. Her long blond hair had been tied up in a tight bun on the back of her head. The stilleto heels on her boots clicked on the marble tile as she entered the room. In one hand she held a riding crop and in the other a long leather leash.

Clambering up the stairs, on the other end of the leash was a woman covered from head to toe in a purple rubber bodysuit. She crawled on hands and knees behind her mistress. A thick leather blindfold covered her eyes and a jaw-breakingly large inflatable gag filled her mouth. Her modest tits peeked through a set of holes in the bodysuit and drooped towards the floor under the pull of a set of nipple clamps connected by skinny chains to a couple of hefty lead weights. The weights banged on the risers of each step as she crawled up the stairs, sending tremors through the laboring slave. As she crawled past me I could see the impossibly tight crotch strap that had been threaded between her legs and up to the narrow belt cinched around her waist. It was pulled so tight that it practically disappeared from sight between the bulging rubber covered flesh of her pussy and ass.

The slave padded along behind her mistress, the weights on her nipples swaying just millimeters above the tile as she moved. The crop-wielding beauty stopped in front of the deceased. Her blindfolded pet crawled on, nearly stumbling into him, but a sharp yank on her collar stopped her short.

"Kaylee, heel!" the mistress commanded with a snap of her crop onto the slave's backside. The slave whinnied in pain, then sat back onto her heels lacing her fingers together behind her head with her elbows out and her back perfectly straight. The weights dangled tantalizingly close to her rubber wrapped thighs, gently bobbing up and down with each heavy breath she took from the exertion of her journey.

"Who's going to tell me what the fuck is going on here?" the mistress asked, staring at each person in the room in turn.

"Mistress Rebecca, I -," Collette began, but she was quickly interrupted by the stern woman.

"Why are you slouched down on the floor like that?" she demanded. "Is this the respect that you show your superiors? Stand at attention!"

Collette looked back at Mistress Rebecca in disbelief. Clearly she was not in the mood for S&M games - someone obviously dear to her had just died in her arms. Mistress Rebecca narrowed her eyes and gave her a glare so cold that it made my spine shiver. The icy stare snapped Collette back to her senses. She jumped to her feet and stood straight as a soldier, feet shoulder width apart. Her hands swung up behind her head. The position caused her short dress to rise up, exposing her satiny black panties beneath.

"Mistress Rebecca," Collette resumed, staring straight ahead. "I was bringing Master John his evening tea and when I came into this room I saw Master Colin grasping at his throat as he fell to the floor. I dropped my tray and screamed. I tried to wake him. I tried, but he's... he's dead." She sobbed out the last sentence.

Mistress Rebecca prodded the deceased with the toe of her boot as if she didn't entirely believe the maid's story. She looked directly at me. "And who the hell are you?"

"Bull Brigham, ma'am." I held out my hand to shake, but she ignored it. "I'm a guest of Mrs. Pendleton's."

Mistress Rebecca scoffed at me describing myself as a 'guest'. I suppose Jessica had my type around here before. "And where is our dear, sweet Jessica?" she asked.

Almost on cue, Jessica appeared at the top of the stairs. She'd managed to free herself from my bindings and put on a white, silk robe. She descended the stairs looking just as lovely as she had an hour or so earlier when she'd first greeted me.

The crowd surrounding the dead man parted as she approached and she saw him lying frozen on the floor. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped to her knees. "Colin! Colin! No!" she howled. I gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. I guess I'd found something worse than a jealous husband - a freshly deceased one.

By now the well-dressed gentleman who had parked himself on the sofa had pulled himself out of his momentary depression and approached the group. He reached out and shook my hand. "Mr. Brigham, I'm John Stone. I'm one of the founding partners of our organization here. I'm terribly sorry that Colin's accident has interrupted your, er, visit. But I think we can handle things from here. I hope we can count on your discretion regarding what you've seen here today."

"You certainly can, sir," I replied. "But I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Pendleton's death was no accident. I have reason to believe he was murdered."

I suddenly had the attention of every person in the room. You could have heard a pin drop. I took the opportunity to study the face of every person, perhaps a guilty conscience would reveal itself.

"Would you care to explain what leads you to such a bold accusation, Mr. Brigham?" Mistress Rebecca finally said impatiently.

"I'd rather not reveal what I know until I am more certain of my conclusion," I countered.

"Wait a minute," John piped up. "I recognize you now. You're Bull Brigham. The same Bull Brigham that solved the Kandinsky case some months back?" I nodded. "Man, you sure made the police look bad after you figured that one out."

"Yeah, I burned a few bridges with that one," I agreed.

"What would you say if I asked you take on our case? If Colin was really murdered as you suggest, then that means there could be a murderer in our midst. We obviously would prefer to keep the police out of our affairs. You're the perfect man to investigate."

I took a moment to consider the gravity of the situation. I had the opportunity right now to cash in my chips and walk away scot free, but the private investigator in me couldn't resist the lure of one more job. Everyone in the room was staring at me. My throat was suddenly drier than a nun's cunt.

"I'll take the case," I said finally. "But under three conditions. One: I need unlimited access to everywhere in this mansion."

John nodded agreement.

"Two: everyone here is a suspect. I'll need to interview each and every one of you. Nobody leaves until my investigation is complete."

This seemed to make more than a few people uncomfortable. But John nodded again. "And the third?" he asked.

"You pay me double my usual rate," I said flatly.

John beamed with the look of a businessman respecting another businessman. "You got it." He turned to the folks gathered in the room. "With Colin gone that puts me in charge here. I expect everyone to fully cooperate with Mr. Brigham during his investigation. He has unrestricted access to the entire grounds. Mr. Brigham, if anyone gives you any trouble you let me know."

"Thank you, sir," I replied. "I'd like to start with whoever it was that Mr. Pendleton was with in the moments leading up to his death."

There were a few more uncomfortable glances exchanged among the gathered party. Mistress Rebecca scoffed. "That would be Anna," she said. "But I seriously doubt you'll get anything out of her."

"You'd be surprised how convincing I can be," I deadpanned. "Take me to her."

Chapter 3

The gathered crowd sulked back to their rooms. All except for the fella in the coveralls and the bad mustache - he was tasked with taking Mr. Pendleton's corpse to the walk-in freezer in the kitchen. I made a mental note to avoid eating any dinner that might be offered to me later in the evening.

I followed Mistress Rebecca and her plaything, Kaylee, back through the heavy locked door and down the stairs into a very authentically decorated dungeon. With a flurry of blows on Kaylee's rubber-coated backside, Mistress Rebecca had the poor girl lead the way down the stairs. I could hear her nipple weights thump on each step as she hurriedly descended to keep ahead of her mistress's crop.

At the bottom of the stairs was a sort of anteroom before the dungeon proper. Here there were about a dozen tiny cells set into the walls, none were large enough to even sit up in, nor wide enough to turn around, as evidenced by the six or so girls packed into them. They knelt hunched over inside, casting furtive glances at me through the eyeholes of their rubber hoods. Each girl was gagged and had her wrists shackled together which seemed entirely unnecessary given the thick bars on the doors that kept them penned into their brick-walled cages.

Mistress Rebecca pulled her slave to a halt with a tug on her collar and the snap of her crop on the girl's backside. Kaylee sat back on her heels and drew her hands up behind her head. The rubberbound girl's chest was still heaving when Mistress Rebecca leaned down to relieve her of her heavy nipple clamps. But instead of merely squeezing open the saw-toothed jaws of the clamps, the cruel woman lifted each one and pulled it out away from Kaylee's chest then twisted it to and fro, tearing at the nipple and daring the unfettered woman to reach down and try to stop her. Kaylee shrieked into her enormous gag. Her back wavered and her out thrust elbows fluttered, but she held her composure until Mistress Rebecca finally snapped the jaws open and the slave's tits sprang back to her chest, tipped now with a pair of reddened, bruised nipples. Mistress Rebecca 'graciously' leaned forward and volunteered to massage the feeling back into her slaves nips, which elicited further howls of pain from the girl as the blood came rushing back in to her tortured buds. Only after the girl ceased whimpering in pain from her mistress's touch did Rebecca reach up to remove her blindfold.

Kaylee's red, tearstained eyes quickly glanced about, briefly making contact with me, before dropping to an arbitrary spot on the floor several feet in front of her. She seemed to me like she was a bit relieved to be in this room, as opposed, perhaps, to some other torture chamber that would suggest further punishment.

"Now, Kaylee," Mistress Rebecca said as she locked a pair of manacles connected by a heavy chain to the girl's wrists, and then another pair to her ankles. "I was not entirely impressed by your composure as we took our little walk, therefore, tonight you will wear your punishment bra."

At this news I detected a very soft sigh emanate from the shackled girl. Mistress Rebecca frowned.

"I believe the correct response is 'thank you mistress', you ungrateful little cunt!" Mistress Rebecca quickly spun about and delivered a swift kick to Kaylee's slightly parted thighs, connecting her leather boot squarely with the slave's tightly strapped pussy.

Kaylee crumpled to the floor and grunted, "Mmm mmm, mmm-mmm." Which, through her thoroughly gagged mouth I supposed might have been a "thank you, mistress" or something along those lines. She pulled herself back up into position while Mistress Rebecca retrieved the punishment bra. Kaylee seemed to need no introduction to the item, so I suspect it was for my own benefit that the sexy domme turned the bra around so that the dozens of gleaming spikes that lined the cups glittered in the pale light of the dungeon.

Kaylee shut her eyes and held her breath as Mistress Rebecca hefted her tits into the spiked cups of the bra. She groaned as the mistress brought the straps together behind her back. Then she screamed as Rebecca tightened them down as far as they'd go. Even without the spikes I suspected that the bra would have been a size too small. With the straps fully tightened the slave's tits were absolutely crammed inside the sharp, pointy cups. Tears flowed freely from Kaylee's eyes. I could just barely make out the blush of her cheeks from around the eyeholes of her hood. Her ragged breath whistled through the narrow nose holes cut in the rubber.

Mistress Rebecca stalked over to an empty cell, unlocked the door, and flung it open. "In!" she ordered. Kaylee scurried as quickly as she could to the cell, the chains connecting her wrists and ankles clattered noisily on the floor as she crawled. When she got to the cell she turned around and backed in, stooping her back so it wouldn't scrape the low ceiling on the way in.

"There will be no rations for you tonight, you thankless bitch," Mistress Rebecca declared as she slammed the door shut and locked it. Before the echo of the door closing had even faded, Mistress Rebecca suddenly whirled around glared at the girl trapped in the cell directly across from Kaylee. "What the fuck do you think you're looking at, cunt?!" she growled.

I looked over at the slave Rebecca was addressing. The tiny rubberbound Asian girl in the cell had completely frozen. Her narrow eyes had grown as big as saucers. I could see the color drain from the parts of her face that were revealed beneath her tight hood. She looked as if her heart had stopped.

"You've just earned yourself an extra punishment session with me tomorrow morning, Lynn," Rebecca snapped. "Does anyone else have a problem with minding their own fucking business?" she addressed the room. Every remaining slave was now intently focused on staring at the floor two feet in front of her cell. It was as quiet as a moonbeam in the room.

Satisfied that she had thoroughly cowed her slaves, Rebecca turned to me. "Come this way. I'll take you to Anna."

---

She led me through another heavy door into a hallway lined on each side with more rooms. She stopped me in front of one marked '2B' and unlocked it. Before opening it, though, she turned to me. "I wouldn't expect her to say anything to you. She has been repeatedly instructed in the importance of discretion here. A good slave doesn't kiss and tell," she said with a wink.

"Well then, I guess I'd better make myself pretty convincing," I replied, certain that Anna had probably been doing a lot more than kissing down here. Rebecca rolled her eyes and opened the door. "I think it's best if you wait outside," I told her. "I suspect that I won't get anything out of her with you looming nearby."

"Whatever you want," Rebecca shrugged. "Here's the key for the door. It locks behind you automatically. I'll be in the room at the end of the hall. Come get me when you're finished with her." She handed me the key and walked away. I swung open the heavy door and stepped inside to interview my witness.

I have to admit, Anna made quite the first impression. She was positioned facing away from the door, bent at the waist in a strappado position. Her arms had been pulled together behind her back inside a single leather sleeve that had cinched her elbows closely together. A metal loop at the end of the sleeve near her fingers had been drawn up high on the ceiling, wrenching the girl's shoulders up and back, painfully threatening to dislocate them if she put too much weight on them.

Her ankles had been drawn far apart by a sturdy metal spreader bar. Her feet, still strapped into a pair of shiny black six-inch heels, danced lightly on the floor struggling to lift the weight of her body off of her aching shoulders. A rope ran up from a loop at the middle of the spreader bar and connected to a ring on the front of the tall leather posture collar that was buckled tight around her throat. A thick leather hood covered her head. Zippers over the eyes and mouth kept her silent and in the dark, but the binding of the hood had been drawn so tight that I could see the definition of Anna's high cheek bones underneath.

Aside from this bondage, Anna wore nothing else except for a set of sexy black thigh high stockings and a matching garter belt. Her ass was heavily bruised, suggesting that she'd received a pretty good spanking not too long ago - probably from the thick wooden paddle I saw propped up against the near wall. The wide gape of her asshole implied that she'd even more recently been on the receiving end of a good, hard buttfucking. Was this what Mr. Pendleton was up to when he began to feel his throat starting to close up?

I gently prodded the girl's gaping shitter with a finger. Anna squealed with a start and wriggled forward against her bonds - clearly she'd been lost in her struggle against the strappado and hadn't heard me enter. Undeterred, I probed her ass again with first one finger, then two. The girl grunted and resisted the whole time, butt stuff didn't seem to be her thing. Too bad, because her ass was tighter than a bongo drum in a Cuban brass band. I ran a finger along her pussy - it was drier than a two dollar steak.

I pulled my fingers out of her ass and decided on what approach I wanted to take. Maybe I'd start out with the 'good cop' routine - you can catch more flies with honey and all that. I found the knot holding her arms high up behind her back and lowered it to relieve some, but not all, of the strain on her shoulders. Nevertheless, she moaned in relief.

Then I unzipped the eyeholes on her hood. She seemed surprised to see me, as opposed to perhaps Mr. Pendleton, who'd been raping her ass not too long ago. Her emerald green eyes fluttered about searching for a clue concerning the next act in her continuing nightmare. She'd been crying recently - no surprise given her current circumstances.

"Good evening. I'm detective Bull Brigham. There's been an incident and I'd like to ask you a few questions."

I unzipped her mouth hole, but she didn't reply - her mouth had been packed with cloth. The tightness of her hood kept her jaw clenched tight against the packing, but with some effort I managed to pry out not one, not two, but three pairs of women's panties from behind her teeth. From some of the stains I saw on them, it seems the panties hadn't been washed before they'd been stuffed into her mouth.

Once all the packing was out, Anna pursed her ruby red lips and flexed her aching jaw. The hood fit a little bit looser now, but still pressed tightly around her head.

Let's start off easy. "What's your name, darling?"

"My name is Fuckhole. Use me and abuse me. My pain is your pleasure," she replied robotically, her voice quavering as she squeaked out the words.

Well, that wasn't quite the response I was expecting, but I suppose it was on brand. "I'm going to call you Anna," I declared. She glanced up at me uncertainly. Perhaps she hadn't heard her own name in some time. "As I said, I have a few questions for you concerning an investigation I'm undertaking. What was the last thing Mr. Pendleton was doing with you before he left this room?"

The question seemed to hit her like a slap in the face. I could see the fear grow in her eyes. She paused just a moment before automatically replying. "A good slave doesn't kiss and tell."

It seems Mistress Rebecca may have had a hand in Anna's training. I sighed. "Yes, yes, I know. But right now I am ordering you to answer my question. Will you obey me?"

The girl was clearly torn. She knew better than to disobey a direct order, but if she talked she'd be betraying a rule drilled into her by her owners.

"I cannot say. Master will," she paused, voice shaking with fear. "He'll punish me for talking to you."

I frowned. "Colin Pendleton is dead," I said flatly.

Anna was stunned by the news. She glanced up at me as if she didn't believe it. Was that the hint of relief on her face?

"I need you to tell me what he was doing when he was last in here with you," I said once more.

For just a moment it looked like she was going to talk, but then she thought better of it. She fixed her eyes on the wall in front of her. "A good slave doesn't kiss and tell," she repeated, though perhaps with a little less conviction than before.

This bitch was starting to get on my nerves. "Look," I said gruffly, "you're going to tell me what you know, one way or another." I picked up the paddle that Colin had been using on her earlier and waved it before her. "Now, are you going to talk, or are you going to scream?"

All trace of hope vanished from her face and fear returned. I hauled on the rope connecting her arms to the ceiling until her toes barely brushed the ground. "No! Please!" she begged as her shoulders bore her weight. I walked around behind her and lined up the paddle with her bruised ass. Whack! I didn't hold back. I gave her battered backside a good, solid strike.

"Aiyeeee!" Anna howled. The blow to her recently beaten bottom reverberated through her entire body.

"Are you ready to talk?" I asked. Sobs were her only reply.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! I beat a steady rhythm on her purpled ass, pausing a few seconds between strikes. Anna howled like a wild animal. She bucked and shrieked. Her feet came free from the floor and she hung from her arms. I could see her milky, white tits shudder as she cried and cried.

After a dozen or more swings I finally stopped. I cupped her warm butt cheeks in my hands. She winced from my touch.

"How about now I asked?"

"A good slave doesn't kiss and tell," she weakly whispered between sobs.

I scowled. This bitch was no pushover. I figured it was time that I became a bit more 'convincing'. I looked around the room to see what I had at my disposal. There were various chairs and tables, whips and paddles, cuffs and chains. I opened the cupboard tucked away in the corner of the room and whistled in appreciation - a guy like me could have a lot of fun with the toys tucked away in there.

I grabbed a few things and walked back to Anna. I lowered her arms from the ceiling enough that she could fully stand up on her high heels. I came up behind her. I bet she could feel my hard cock pressing up against her outthrust pussy through my pants. I reached around and grabbed her tits, they weren't particularly big, just enough to fill each hand. I squeezed and massaged her soft mounds. I could feel the fading welts from a tit whipping she must have received a couple of days ago.

After playing with her tits for another minute I grabbed a slender glass cylinder that I had retrieved from the cupboard. One end of the cylinder was open, I pressed that up against her nipple. The other end was connected to a hand pump. I started squeezing the pump, her dark pink nipple was drawn up into the tube by the growing vacuum.

"Oh. Oh," Anna gasped cutely from behind her hood as she felt her sensitive nipple sucked farther up the tube. I kept squeezing, feeling greater resistance from the pump as it struggled to draw the thinner air from within the cylinder. Anna's cute gasps morphed to pained groans as her nipple stretched under the pressure. When I couldn't pump any further it had filled the tube until it was pulled a good inch and a half away from her breast. I disconnected the pump, then suctioned a second glass cylinder onto her other nipple.

Then I moved to her pussy. I gently rubbed her bits, exploring the folds of her pussy. I gave her some of my best stuff, careful to avoid the bruises on her outer labia where a set of clamps had previously done a number on her, but after a few minutes she was still drier than a dyke in a gay bar - maybe I was losing my touch. Undeterred, I grabbed a third glass cylinder. I lubed the inside of it then placed it over her clit, still hiding in its hood. She stiffened in concern as she felt me start pumping. Each squeeze brought her clit deeper into its glass prison, her most sensitive part slid up along the glass, drawn away from her body by the continuous pressure. She frantically tried to wriggle away but it was no use. I didn't stop until her clit had been stretched about two inches into the cylinder. I could see the pink nub darkening to purple under the suction.

Not wanting to leave her pretty puckered asshole out of the fun, I went and found an inflatable buttplug. I greased it up and nestled it into her nether regions. She gave a miserable distressed squeal as her ass swallowed up the length of the plug. I didn't pump it up just yet, that would come later.

For now though, it was time for her to change positions. I dragged a long table into the middle of the room. I unhooked Anna's ankles from the spreader bar and removed her heels, stockings, and garter. Standing up a bit straighter now, Anna flexed her aching feet. Her recently manicured toes had been painted a lovely fire-engine red. Using a few lengths of rope, I bound her legs together at the ankles and above and below her knees.

Next I unhooked the armbinder from the ceiling. Anna stood up straight for the first time in hours. I could sense the relief, tinged with anxiety about what would happen next, as she stretched her tired back. With her elbows still touching behind her back, her modest tits were thrust proudly forward, sagging slightly under the weight of the glass tubes still affixed to her swollen nipples.

Then I hefted her up onto the table into a sitting position. I made sure to feed the inflator tube for her butt plug through a hole in the middle of the leather padded surface. The armbinder was finally ready to come off, but her arms weren't free for long. Using more rope that I looped around her waist, I drew her wrists down so that they were crossed in front of her navel, her left wrist pinned against her right hip, and her right wrist pinned against the left. She clenched and unclenched her fists to try and maintain circulation in her bound hands, her pretty red fingernails gleaming under the lights overhead.

The next part wasn't totally necessary for what I had in mind, but my curiosity was getting the better of me so I removed her hood. First I undid the tight posture collar from around her neck. For the first time in hours Anna could take a deep breath. She relished the free flow of oxygen and I could already see some of the color draining from her face as I loosened the bindings on her hood.

When I pulled the hood free a lush mane of blond hair came tumbling out. Anna looked back at me. She was a stunner - long blond hair, sparkling green eyes, a cute narrow nose, and high cheekbones. Her pouty red lips only made her more beautiful. I buckled a simple black leather collar around her neck - in my mind a slave should always be collared, it helped remind her of her place.

I leaned her back and ran a broad leather belt that was affixed to the table across her hips. That ought to keep her from wriggling too far in any one direction, but I figured I ought to make sure of that. I lifted a block about the size of a shoebox underneath her feet, elevating her legs slightly. Then, moving wide of her head so she wouldn't see what I was doing, I grabbed a thin wooden cane.

Snap! I swung the cane hard into the arches of her unsuspecting feet. Anna shrieked in surprise and pain as her feet blazed with the stinging agony of the strike. Her abs tensed and she lifted her upper body a little off of the table. Her hips shimmied and she jostled side to side. She pulled her bound legs to her chest and sobbed.

"Put those legs back on the box," I ordered. "You're going to get ten more strokes and if you move your feet off of that box then I'm starting over."

"No! Please, sir! Mercy!" she begged.

"You'll only get mercy when I get what I want," I growled. Snap! I struck her before she was expecting it. Again she screamed and raised her legs from the box.

"I'll do this all day if I have to," I warned. "Maybe if you pass out then it will be easier to get to ten."

Starting over I managed to land ten good hard blows on the bottoms of her feet. By the tenth she was a blubbering mess. Her bruised and swollen feet trembled daintily on the box that they were propped up on. I gave her a few minutes to recover herself, then I asked. "Are you ready to start talking?"

She turned her tear-filled eyes toward me and said without any conviction, "A good slave doesn't kiss and tell."

"I figured as much," I grumbled in frustration. I reasoned I ought to give this cunt some time to think about what refusing to cooperate meant.

I leaned over and twisted open the end of each glass cylinder attached to her nipples. With the vacuum broken her swollen flesh popped out of the other ends. Her tits flattened against her reclined chest, topped by a pair of puffy, red, gumball-sized nipples. I tweaked and pinched her swollen buds. She struggled to twist away and howled in pain, showing just how sensitive the suction had made them. Then I found some two foot long thin twine. I tied each end tightly around a swollen nipple. I tested the strength of my knots by tugging on the middle of the twine, lifting it up away from her chest. Anna dutifully followed the tug on her tits, sitting up as I lifted it higher and higher and turning left and right as I pulled in either direction. The coarse twine bit into her swollen nipples and twisted them this way and that while Anna bit her lip in agony, but the twine didn't slip, it held tight to her nipples.

Next I bundled her beautiful blond hair into a ponytail and I tied off two ropes into it. The first and longer one I ran under the table then brought up on the other side to tie off on her ankle ropes. The second and shorter rope I tied to a ring in the floor beneath her head.

While I was over near her freshly battered feet I took another long length of twine and used one end to tie her two big toes together. Then, standing up on the table I passed the twine through a loop centered above the table and brought it down to tie off to the twine connecting her nipples. I made sure to shorten the length so that the connection from her toes to her tits was taut. When I climbed down from the table I devilishly decided to give her a little foot rub. Anna screamed as my hands mauled her aching feet. She tried to pull away, but the rope holding her ankles to her ponytail tugged on her head, and her twisting and turning translated into hard tugs on her swollen nipples. She tried to sit up, but the shorter rope holding her ponytail to the floor yanked her back down.

I was almost done. I just needed a few more things. I walked around to her head again. "Open your mouth," I ordered. She apprehensively complied. I took a clamp with two flat tabs and snapped it onto her tongue as far back as it would go. "Maybe if you don't want to talk, then I just need to loosen your tongue," I suggested.

I threaded another length of twine into a hole on the end of the tongue clamp. Anna's apprehension was growing, but I was having a merry old time. I whistled a cheery tune to myself as I ran the length of twine from her tongue under the 'Y' shaped pieces holding her tits pointed to the ceiling. The tongue twine was just long enough to reach between her legs. When Anna felt me fiddling with the glass tubing suctioning her clit, her eyes opened wide. She tried and failed to lift her head from the headrest at the end of the table in an attempt to see what I was doing.

"Pleaf, fir!" She pleaded around the clamp on her tongue. "Don't tie my clit!"

I looked at her bound nipples and saw how dark and purple they'd become. They must have been hurting her terribly. I shrugged as her clit popped free from the glass tube. "Okay," I said. "Have it your way."

She relaxed just a little bit as I turned away from the table. It was then that I opened the nastiest looking clamp that I could find and I snapped it onto the most nerve-rich place on her body, made all the more sensitive by the swelling from the pump. This got the greatest reaction that I'd seen from her all day. The table she was bound to actually moved a little as every muscle in her body tensed at once. I thought she might pass out, but unfortunately for her, she somehow managed to hang onto consciousness. I ignored her frantic squeals while I tied off her tongue to her clit clamp, leaving the twine just loose enough that she could barely pull her tongue back into her mouth.

I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Anna had settled into an unhappy equilibrium with her toes tied to her tits and her tongue stretched to her clit. It was time to upset that equilibrium. I punched the little wooden box out from under her feet. She gasped in surprise and then yelped in pain as her feet sank towards the table, tugging harshly on her tied nipples. I could see her leg muscles tense as she fought to hold them aloft and keep the tension off of the twine.

Next I crawled under the table and dragged the inflator for her butt plug so that it was affixed to the floor directly beneath her head. Then I tied a five pound weight to the rope connecting her ponytail to the floor. The weight was just high enough that it swayed ominously above the inflator bulb. Anna, still focused on keeping her feet up, was again caught by surprise when I flipped down the headrest supporting her neck. Her head sagged under the weight on her ponytail. The weight clanged down on the inflator bulb at the same time her tongue gave a sharp tug on her clamped clit. It's hard to say whether or not she even noticed the butt plug expanding slightly in her ass. She certainly noticed the yank on her sensitive clit. She jerked her head up in shock as the pain flared between her legs. Unfortunately this disrupted the delicate balance of her legs in the air. Her heels dipped to the table and delivered another painful twist of her nipples to the ceiling.

I stepped back with a smile on my face as I watched Anna struggle to maintain a less painful pose. I could see the muscles in her neck straining as she held the weight up off of the floor. I admired her beautiful toned legs as they flexed to keep her feet up in the air. I didn't know how long she would be able to hold herself like that. I didn't care. It certainly wasn't longer than I was willing to wait. I would get my answers one way or another.

I stood and watched her for a couple of minutes, then I said, "I can understand that you weren't ready to talk before. I think maybe when I come back later you'll be more willing." I turned to the door and fished the key out of my pocket. Anna grew more agitated as she realized that she was going to be left alone like this for some indeterminate amount of time.

"No! No! Pleaf!" She begged, careful not to tug on her clit with her clamped tongue.

I continued out the door. Maybe she was already willing to talk. Maybe she wasn't. No matter. When I came back later she'd be desperate to tell me everything she knew.

Chapter 4

I made my way down the hallway to the door Mistress Rebecca had indicated earlier. It was slightly cracked, so I pushed it open and stepped inside. It was a dark room. Mistress Rebecca was inside, seated on a blocky wooden stool staring through a large window on the side of the room. I followed her gaze to see what she was watching.

The window was apparently a two way mirror and looked in on something akin to an interrogation room in a police station. That room, much more brightly lit than the one I had entered, was occupied by two people. One was the fella in the cowboy hat that I had seen earlier. He had tossed his hat off to the side and was wiping sweat off of his brow as he pondered a board in front of him arrayed with various knobs and sliders. A display was mounted on the far wall with a time on it that seemed to be counting down - there was under ten minutes remaining for whatever it meant.

Seated in front of the display, facing the window was a lovely naked red-haired woman. She was bound into a sturdy wooden chair with leather straps over her wrists and a strap across her chest, just below her tits. More straps on her ankles and knees kept her legs parted, and her butt sagged into the nonexistent "seat" of the chair. Her head hung forward and lolled limply from side to side on her chest. Her body was covered by a sheen of sweat. A dozen or more thin wires trailed from various parts of her body and connected to the control board in front of the man. They were connected to her nipples, her big toes, her navel, a pair of sticky connectors hooked a wire on either side of her forehead. A whole tangle of wires ran up between her legs attaching to probes and clamps on all her most sensitive anatomy. There was one to her clit, a pair for her labia, one attached to a metal dildo buried in her vagina, another attached to her metal butt plug, and a final one leading to the steel piss plug inserted in her urethra.

The man looked up from the switchboard. "You're gonna tell me or I'm gonna fry that pussy till it's smokier than my daddy's brisket," he growled in a thick Texan accent, his voice crackling through a speaker mounted on the wall of the room I was in.

The woman lifted her head to look him in the eye. She seemed tired and weak. I wondered how long they'd been at this. "No, no, no, no," she murmured to herself.

Suddenly the redhead stiffened as the Texan attacked the panel in front of him. The woman gave out a deafening scream so loud I could have heard it through the wall without the aid of the speaker. Her body violently twitched within the chair as it was buffeted by electric shocks. The Texan watched carefully, adjusting knobs and sliders like a DJ at a dance party, carefully controlling the current and voltage that was delivered to each part of her body. With the twist of a knob her tits started flopping up and down as her body convulsed. Another slider pushed higher caused her to freeze in place, every muscle tensed. All the while, though, her screams never ceased.

Finally the Texan relented. The redhead slumped down in the chair breathing rapidly and trembling uncontrollably. I didn't hear the exchange that followed. Mistress Rebecca had reached over to the wall beside her and flipped off the audio from the other room.

"Did Anna have anything interesting to say?" she asked.

"She's considering what it means to defy me," I replied. "She'll come around."

"I'm not so sure," Mistress Rebecca replied. She leaned back in her seat and I heard a gasp for breath. I stepped closer and strained my eyes against the dim light of the room. Mistress Rebecca's chair was actually a cramped wooden box with a slave stuffed inside! The only part of the occupant exposed to the outside was the lower part of the girl's face - her head had been wrenched back at a severe angle and her mouth and nose pressed through a hole in the wooden top. The box was shaped so that someone sitting on it could rest comfortably with their crotch pressed into the face of the person within, as Mistress Rebecca had just been doing.

The sexy domme had unzipped her catsuit between her legs, exposing her smooth, shaved pussy. Sitting back now, I could see her fuckhole glistening with her own juices and the saliva of the girl whose face she'd been sitting upon. The slave continued to dart her tongue out, blindly seeking out her mistress's cunt. No doubt her release from the cramped box was contingent upon Mistress Rebecca's complete satisfaction.

"We take the privacy of our clients very seriously here," Mistress Rebecca explained as she slid forward again in her chair, nestling her pussy against the slave's eager face. "A core part of their training is the art of discretion."

"Even for the dead?" I asked. "I explained to Anna that Colin has passed, despite the hint of satisfaction I detected, she still held her tongue."

"I should hardly think that would matter. I don't know about Anna, but one of my final tests when training a slave is to allow her to be 'rescued' and then see what she is willing to tell her savior. Obviously if she reveals any sensitive information then I have to have a little chat with her afterward to remind her of the rules." A sly smile spread across Mistress Rebecca's face. "Nobody fails my tests twice."

"You didn't train Anna?"

"No." Mistress Rebecca slid back to allow her seat slave, who was grunting in distress, to take a breath, then she slid right back down. "Anna was one of Colin's 'special projects.' He mostly kept her for himself. I hardly got to play with her at all." She cooed in delight from the efforts between her legs, then added with a sneer, "Colin was responsible for her training."

"Colin wasn't a good trainer?"

"Colin was very strict, but he wasn't very patient. When he wanted something, he expected it right away. That's not a problem when dealing with a fully trained girl, but with a new slave she'll require plenty of... reminders. Early on in the club there were a few incidents where Colin took things too far too soon it was decided that I should be in charge of slave training. Besides," she said as she slid back and stroked the cheek of the gasping slave beneath her, "I really know how to talk to a girl."

"What about Jessica?" I asked. "Do you ever play with her?"

"Ha!" Rebecca scoffed. "That lightweight? She's hardly worth my time. Besides Colin said she was off limits. He was very possessive about what he considered his property. I don't know what he saw in her."

Mistress Rebecca turned her attention back to the window looking into the other room. The Texan had yanked the red haired slave out of the wooden chair and shackled her standing against the wall. Several of the wires still trailed from her body as she danced from foot to foot on tiptoe, her chest pressed against the cold stone. The clock on the wall was now under two minutes. Mistress Rebecca flipped the switch for the audio and the girl's pained screams filled the room.

"Ahhh! Ahhh! No! No! Please!" she wailed.

Crack! The Texan brought his bullwhip hard across her back. A bright red stripe flared into existence aside several others that had been laid down across her muscular flesh. The girl screamed and her legs collapsed out from under her. She dangled from her shackled wrists as the Texan raged. "Tell me! Tell me, you little cunt!" he roared.

"I made a bet with Mr. Crowley," Mistress Rebecca explained. "I told him that he wouldn't be able to get Erin to tell him what she served me for breakfast this morning."

As the seconds ticked away the Texan's ire grew greater and greater. The redhead was in a hell of a dilemma - she either talked and incurred the wrath of Mistress Rebecca, or she didn't, and had to endure an increasingly frustrated interrogator. The whip was a blur as he swung it again and again, not even bothering to pause between swings. The girl bucked and shrieked under the onslaught. Her back soon grew as red as her hair.

Mistress Rebecca was transfixed. She stared intently at sadistic display getting more and more excited by what she saw. Soon she was vigorously grinding her pussy into the girl trapped beneath her, using the slave's nose to stimulate her clit while the girl's tongue buried itself in her vagina.

The clock hit zero and the violence reached its climax at the same time that Mistress Rebecca reached hers. The sexy mistress shuddered and moaned as orgasm approached. She grabbed the edge of the box to pull herself harder against the girl's face, fighting to drive the slave's tongue deeper into her quivering snatch. The girl trapped between her legs grunted for air, but Mistress Rebecca ignored her as she drove herself over the edge. She threw her head back as she came. Her whole body convulsed atop the girl whose groans grew more and more panicked as her oxygen ran out. I could hear the slave's fingers scrabbling against the sides of the box from within. Mistress Rebecca blithely kept riding the panicked girl's face as her euphoria ebbed. She finally came down from her orgasmic high and regained her senses. She slid back to allow the slave to breathe.

"Thank you, mistress, for allowing me to pleasure you," the frightened girl in the box mewed between gasps, ever submissive despite being seconds away from suffocation.

When the clock expired the Texan angrily threw down his whip and stalked over to the door connecting the interrogation room to the room I was in. The red haired girl remained chained to the wall, sobbing uncontrollably. I had to admit, she was tough. I wondered if I would have held out as well as she did, but after meeting Mistress Rebecca I could see why she was so motivated to succeed. The Texan unlocked the door and swung it open.

"I almost had her!" he grumbled. "She was gonna break! I know it!"

"Umm-hmm," Mistress Rebecca beamed politely.

The Texan yanked his wallet out of his pants. "Well, a bet's a bet," he said, calming down a little. He pulled a crisp one dollar bill out and handed it to Mistress Rebecca, who had stood up to greet him. She smiled and tucked the bill into her catsuit.

The Texan turned to me and offered his hand to shake. "Howdy, Mr. Brigham. The name's Hank Crowley. Any progress on finding out what happened to Mr. Pendleton?"

"I've got a few theories I'm working on," I explained. "But nothing solid yet."

"You keep at 'em," the Texan replied. "I'm gonna be awful ornery if this place closes down because of this."

"You say that you almost had her," Mistress Rebecca said, interrupting. "Double or nothing?"

Hank looked through the window into the interrogation room at the girl dangling by her wrists against the wall. A broad smile appeared on his face. "You're on!"

He marched back through the door while Mistress Rebecca reset the clock to start counting down one more hour. She looked at me and gestured to the box she had been sitting on. "Would you care to give Sarah a try?" she offered. "The box isn't ideal for a man to sit upon, but I'm sure she'd do her best to accommodate. Or she'd gladly eat your ass."

I have to admit, the latest display of sex, violence, and sadism had really gotten my blood up, but I had to decline - I had a job to do.

"Well then, if you don't have any further questions for me I think I'll settle back in and enjoy the second act."

I watched Mistress Rebecca slide back down onto Sarah's face while Hank reentered the interrogation room, much to Erin's dismay. Then I turned and found my way out of the dungeon. I had a few more folks to talk to if I was going to crack this case. Anna would have to wait until I returned.

Chapter 5

I came up the stairs and was back at the scene of Colin's demise. Everything had been put away and tidied up - it was as if nothing had ever happened. I ran through my memory of what I had seen, and paused. Something didn't seem right, and I knew just who I needed to talk to next.

I found her in the kitchen scrubbing the floors. Her wrists had been locked into a set of metal shackles and connected by a short chain that ran through a ring on the front of her collar, forcing her to bow low to the tile while she crawled on elbows and knees. She still wore her sexy French maid outfit. She moved very deliberately, careful not to put a run in her stockings, yet she was scrubbing vigorously. Her short, frilly skirt had ridden up her backside while she labored, putting her black satin panties on full display to the world.

I quietly stepped into the kitchen to admire the view. Collette was facing away from me and hadn't reacted to my entrance - she was too focused on her task. I watched as her delightful round ass wriggled to and fro while she attacked a stubborn stain. I could see the outline of a large buttplug through the tightly stretched fabric over her rump. Atop her panties I could see the thin leather crotch strap that ran between her legs. In her bent over position it had been drawn so tight that I could see the cleft of her pussy where it cruelly parted her labia. Her large tits, unsupported by a bra, but still confined within her dress, brushed against the floor. The nipple clamps I had noticed before ticked softly against the tile as she scrubbed, the sounds muted by her dress material and nearly drowned out by the scrape of the bristles on the tile.

"See something you like, Monsieur Brigham?" Collette asked demurely, never stopping in her vigorous cleaning.

She had startled me out of my lecherous stare. "Oh, um," I stuttered. I realized now that she could see my hazy reflection in the stainless steel front of the refrigerator before her. "Actually I had a few questions for you," I finally said.

Collette harrumphed and continued scrubbing. Clearly she was disappointed that I wasn't there for something else. "I am very busy," she said coldly. "If these floors are not cleaned by dinnertime I will be punished."

"I don't mean to keep you from your work. Is it okay if we talk while you continue what you're doing?"

"There's a lot of things I can do while I continue scrubbing," she replied suggestively. She paused and looked over her shoulder to wink at me and gave a little waggle of her upturned bottom.

I reminded myself that I had a job to do. "I should probably just stick with the questions," I heard myself say.

I could practically feel Collette's scowl from across the room. "Well if you won't do something for me, then I'm not doing anything for you," she pouted.

"So that's how it is?" I said stepping towards her. "And what if I told your handlers that you weren't cooperating?"

She ignored me. I don't know why I was resisting giving her what she wanted. I wanted it too. I think I resented that she thought she could order me around. She was the one who was bound, shackled, and on display. Nevertheless, I took another step towards her. My mind was no longer in control. My dick was calling the shots.

I knelt down behind her. "I suppose you're used to playing the part of the brat," I said. "Isn't that what they pay you for?"

"Monsieur Brigham," she laughed,  "They don't pay me anything. I willingly agreed to be their full-time submissive. I was the very first in this club."

I grabbed her wide hips. She thrust her ass back towards me and started grinding against my crotch. "I see. And when you signed up, was it to be serving drinks and scrubbing floors or for something else?"

She slowed her scrubbing but didn't answer my question. My hands moved around to her front side and started to loosen the buckle on her crotch strap - it took some effort, that thing was tight! I could feel some of the tension come out of her when I finally got it free.

"When was the last time someone played with you?"

"Aside from teasing me? Or punishing me? Too long," she pouted. I could tell her attention was shifting from my questions to her pussy. I grabbed her black panties and yanked them down over her hips. The tight strap had caused the fabric to become crammed up into her snatch, when they popped free I could see that her panties were absolutely soaked with her juices.

With her panties out of the way I could now clearly see the base of the enormous butt plug that stretched her anus. From its size I could guess that the length buried in her ass must have been truly massive. "So who did this to you?" I asked, wiggling the bottom of the big plug.

"Mistress Rebecca. I have orders to report to her every night. She has forbidden me from having an orgasm without permission. She ties me and teases me. She knows just what to do to get me excited. Then she listens to me beg her over and over for permission to cum, but she never allows it. One time I came anyway - she punished me so severely, I will never do that again."

I ran my fingers along her pussy. She practically melted at my touch. Her cunt was wetter than an otter's pocket. "What about the other members? You're a beautiful woman. Don't they want to play with you?"

"Nobody wants to fuck the maid," she said acidly. "Not when there are a dozen other new and pretty girls waiting for them in the dungeon downstairs. I am old news. When I was the only girl I got all the attention. It was perfect. Now they only want me to serve them drinks while I watch them play with their newest toys. I think that's why Mistress Rebecca suggested that I have this job. She is so cruel."

My cock ached as I slid it out of my pants. I was harder than a college calculus exam. My interrupted session with Mrs. Pendleton earlier had left me unsatisfied. I inserted just the tip into Collette's warm, waiting pussy and I took a firm hold on her hips.

"What about Mr. Pendleton? Did he ever play with you?" I asked as I slowly slid my cock all the way into her delightful, slippery cunt.

"Oui!" Collette mewed excitedly. Was that an answer to my question or a response to my dick bottoming out in her snatch?

I paused balls deep in her pussy. Through the thin flesh of her vagina I could feel the girth of the butt plug that filled her ass. The double penetration made her tighter than a clam in a kitchen. I held firmly onto her hips. She was wriggling about, resisting my hold. I could tell she was desperate for a good hard fucking.

"When was the last time Colin played with you?" I asked.

"It has been a while. He spent all his time recently with his new plaything, Anna."

I could tell there was more to the story. Why was she so upset to see him dead? I started to slowly fuck her. In. Out. In. Out. Long, deliberate strokes. I kept a tight hold on her hips - she was ready to go a million miles an hour, but I was willing to take my time.

"How long have you known Colin?"

"Years and years." I could hear the impatience in her voice. She was holding something back. I let go of her hips and grabbed a fistful of her long chestnut hair. I yanked her neck back and put my other hand on her throat. Rather than frightening her, the rough treatment only seemed to spur her on.

"What are you not telling me?" I growled. With her hips freed from my grasp she began to fuck my cock in earnest. The increased pace heightened her arousal and loosened her tongue.

"I dated him before he met Jessica. I suggested that he start this club. I volunteered to be their full-time slave. Then, when the club took off, he lost interest in me. He eventually married Jessica."

Maybe she resented being tossed aside, but I think she still loved him. That didn't mean that there wasn't plenty of jealousy to go around.

"What about Jessica? Wasn't she upset to have her husband's ex hanging about?"

I released her hair and moved my hands to her corset-narrowed waist, but I let her keep the pace. She was now fucking me for all she was worth.

"If she was, she didn't show it. She was too focused on herself. She loves being the center of attention. And she doesn't care who it is that gives her that attention. I think that's why you're here, Monsieur Brigham. Especially since Master Colin has been spending all his time lately with Anna." Her breath was starting to grow ragged as she exerted herself fucking me harder and harder. I could tell she was just about ready to go off.

She interrupted me while I was forming my next question. "Please, sir," she gasped. "May I cum?"

I scowled at her impertinence. She was fully invested in ramming her cunt down onto my rock hard cock. She had ceased any attempt at scrubbing the floor. Some multitasker, I thought sarcastically. I slid my hands up to her tits and pulled them out of her dress. My fingers found the clamps latched onto her nipples, they were two flat metal tabs mashed together around the tips of her tits by strong springs. I grabbed the clamps and twisted. Collette stiffened, and paused her humping. The pain blasted through the euphoria of getting fucked. Her nipples must have been particularly sensitive.

"You don't cum until I get answers to all my questions," I growled. "And shouldn't you be scrubbing?" I added.

"Oui, Monsieur!" Collette grimaced through clenched teeth. I released my hold on her nipples and they sprang back to their original position, bent slightly by the clamps. The scrub brush began moving back and forth on the tile once more. Collette was more sober in her movement. I took a tighter grip on her narrow waist and switched to hard, quick thrusts, pausing between each one. I don't know about her, but I was having a great time.

"Now, when I arrived in the hall Colin was laying facedown with his head towards the dungeon door. Was he like that when you found him, or did you move him?"

Collette took a second to picture what she had seen. She grunted with each hard thrust of my cock into her cunt. Her pussy was slicker than a pocket full of pudding. I enjoyed every thrust while she thought.

"I didn't move him. That's how he was."

"But that would imply he was walking towards the dungeon when he collapsed. Why?"

Collette, a bit more focused after her painful nipple play, replied quickly. "He wasn't heading toward the dungeon. He was probably heading away from the coat closet. He kept an emergency EpiPen in his jacket."

"But if he made it to the closet, then he should have gotten his medicine in time."

Collette paused. "Unless it wasn't there," she said with a tone of sober realization.

"You think someone could have taken it?"

"It's possible," she admitted. "The closet is unlocked and people pass through the entry hall all the time."

"How many people know about Mr. Pendleton's latex allergy?"

"Practically everyone. It's why we tell our members that this club is bareback only," she said. "Not that anybody seemed to mind that rule," she added.

My murder theory was starting to firm up. Could someone have found a way to trigger Colin's allergy and then stolen his medicine so that he'd suffocate to death? It certainly seemed possible to me. But who would have done it?

I had all the answers that Collette was going to give me. The realization that the object of her affection was murdered had put a damper on her lust, but now as I turned my full attention on pounding her denied pussy she came roaring back.

I grabbed her round hips and lifted her up so that I had better leverage. As I jackhammered her pussy Collette could do nothing but hold on for dear life. It wasn't so much that she was scrubbing the floor as it was me scrubbing the floor with her. Her nipple clamps clacked loudly on the tile as her tits slammed forward with every thrust. Her grunts sounded more and more strained as my cock banged into her cervix with each pump. Permission or no, she wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer - but neither was I.

"You may cum," I grunted as I felt my own orgasm approaching.

It wasn't more than two thrusts before I could feel her pussy tighten around my cock. Her moans grew feral as she lost herself in the bliss. Just as she was riding that wave to its peak I reached up and snapped the clamps off of her nipples. Her moans morphed to screams as the blood rushed back into her crushed buds. I helped the process along by squeezing and massaging her nipples. Collette writhed in my grasp, but I had her by the tits - she wasn't going anywhere. The pain mixed with the pleasure, joining to make a feeling more powerful than either alone. Her eyes fluttered and her whole body tensed as she succumbed to the power of her long denied orgasm.

Her wild, spasming pussy was more than enough to push me over the edge. I yanked my dick free from her snatch with a grunt and sprayed my seed all over the floor next to her. I watched my cum spatter and splash across the tile - copious amounts spilled forth while my dick twitched in satisfaction.

With both of us spent, I dropped Collette back to the floor. She collapsed to her side with a satisfied glow on her face, her whole body was flushed pink. I stood up and tucked my dick back into my pants.

"It seems I've added a little bit of work to your floor cleaning task," I said. "I want you to clean that up with your tongue. Then you can resume your scrubbing after you have reattached your nipple clamps and refastened your crotch strap just as tight as it was before."

"Oui, Monsieur," Collette purred, still basking in the afterglow of her orgasm.

"You may inform Mistress Rebecca that you came with my permission."

"Merci, Monsieur," she replied, getting back to her hands and knees and taking the first few slurps of my jizz from the floor. It seems like I might have fucked the English out of her.

Back to the task at hand, I had a murderer to find. I turned to seek out the next person I wanted to question, but stopped at the door and smiled devilishly as I looked at Collette obediently licking up my cum. "And when you next see Mistress Rebecca, you will inform her that you did 'kiss and tell'," I added.

Collette paused and looked up at me. All the color drained from her face. She knew that was one of Mistress Rebecca's most serious offences and that she would be punished severely for it. Good, I thought. It serves the cunt right for thinking she could blackmail me into fucking her. I pushed open the door and left. This case was starting to heat up.

Chapter 6

I knew who I wanted to interview next. When you needed answers in a place like this you didn't talk to the people in charge, you talked to the folks doing all the work. They would know the ins and outs that the visitors and managers all took for granted. I made my way back down to the dungeon, that's where most of the action took place. I found him in a large room off to the side of the foyer down there. The fella with the awful mustache and dingy jumpsuit was seated on a stool in the middle of the room, hard at work. He was probably about twenty years old, and rather thin and scrawny - his jumpsuit fit him like a trash bag on a coat hangar.

"Good evening," I said. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Bull Brigham. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions."

The guy didn't turn around. He took the frothy brush out of the cup he was holding and lathered up the pussy of the slave before him with shaving cream. The slave twitched from the coolness of the foam and the tickle of the brush, but she couldn't do much about it - she was suspended face up, spread-eagle about three feet above the floor. Her body was pulled taut between four sturdy pillars positioned around her. A leather cuff on each wrist and ankle was connected to its corresponding pillar by a rope drawn so tight that her body didn't sag at all as it hung parallel to the ground. Her head dangled unsupported. It was covered in the black rubber hood which I had seen most of the slaves here wear. A thick, black ponytail erupted out of the back of the hood and gently dusted the ground beneath her. Her mouth had been filled with a large red ball gag. She looked up as she heard the caretaker stropping his straight blade on a long strip of leather. I instantly recognized her as the unfortunate Asian slave who had drawn Mistress Rebecca's ire earlier, before I went to see Anna, and had been sentenced to some 'quality time' with the fierce woman tomorrow.

"Relax, Lynn," the man sneered at her. "If you don't fidget, then I won't nick you like last time." The girl fought back a cringe as the bright, gleaming blade dragged its first sweep from her navel to down near her pussy in a slow, steady stroke.

"I'm a busy man, Mr. Brigham," he then replied to me, not looking up from his task. "I don't really have time to talk. After I finish shaving Lynn, I've got to give Morgan her enema." He nodded at another slave, kneeling ass up over in the corner. "Then I've got to give Carly and Heather manicures." He gestured with his foam covered blade over to a pair of cramped wooden crates. "And then I've got to go clean up whatever mess Hank has made over in the interrogation room."

"How about I help you out?" I offered, inviting myself more fully into the room.

He wiped the shaving cream off of his blade with a towel. "Fine," the guy sighed, realizing that he wasn't going to get rid of me. "Why don't you give Morgan her enema?"

"Sure thing. What's your name?" I asked.

"Lester. Lester Smalls," he said. Lynn squealed as he reached between her legs, pinched one of her labia between two fingers and pulled it away from her pussy, then he dragged his sharp blade across her sensitive stretched skin.

"How long have you worked here, Lester?" I asked as I walked over to the corner where Morgan knelt and found the enema tools hanging on the wall nearby.

"About three weeks. It seems that the previous guy quit all of a sudden. My dad is Jessica's cousin. She got me this job."

I grabbed the inflatable butt plug from the wall and lubed it up. Morgan glanced up at me uncertainly with her glittering blue eyes peering through the holes in the thick leather discipline hood, buckled tight around her head. Her breath whistled through the narrow straw that pierced the panel gag built into the hood. Her head was held close to the floor by a padlock that affixed the ring on the front of her collar to an anchor in the floor. Her wrists and ankles were locked away on the other end, held inline by a heavy wooden stockade with four holes - the inner two for her wrists and the outer two for her ankles. The position forced her to thrust her pale, round ass up and back, invitingly.

I knelt down beside her and admired her helpless position. Her generous tits had been mashed into a black leather bra that seemed at least one cup size too small. Out of curiosity I wedged a finger between her tit and the bra. I quickly drew my finger back when I felt the prick of a pin inside. It seems this was one of the punishment bras I had seen earlier.

I looked from her puckered asshole to the thick plug I'd been given and decided that I ought to loosen her up with my fingers first. I dribbled a gob of lube onto her hole and slipped a finger inside. Morgan tensed and groaned as I entered her, then relaxed as she realized it was only my finger. Perhaps she'd been expecting me to ram the big plug in with no warmup. Maybe that's how it was usually done.

"It seems like they keep you pretty busy," I said to Lester, working my finger in and out of Morgan's tight ass. "How are you liking the job?"

Lester shrugged. "It's a paycheck - a good one at that. Not everyone is willing to do this sort of work, but I don't mind it."

"Money is nice, but I'd imagine the job comes with some fringe benefits too?" I inserted a second finger into the bound girl's ass. Her initial groan had now been replaced with gentle moans as I pumped my fingers in and out of her ass. The intimate attention to her asshole had caused her pussy to open like a flower. Her arousal was apparent.

"What are you implying, Mr. Brigham?" Lester had by now scraped all the shaving cream from Lynn's pussy. He wiped down her bits with a towel and was looking closely for any spots he may have missed.

I glanced over at him. His face was inches away from a beautiful woman's freshly shaved cunt. "All these sexy, submissive women... surely you get to make use of the organization's 'assets', no?"

Lynn squealed and jumped in her bonds as Lester nicked her labia with his blade. "Shit!" Lester exclaimed, suddenly flustered. He quickly grabbed his towel and pressed it against the cut, soaking up the blood. "These girls are the property of the rich and powerful, Mr. Brigham. When have you ever known them to share their toys with the rest of us?" he said, annoyed. "I'm sure you've seen the same in your line of work."

I couldn't disagree. You'd be hard-pressed to find any one of my clients willing to share what they had with the 'help'.

After having worked a third finger into Morgan's butthole I decided she was now loosened enough for the plug. Besides, her pussy was absolutely gushing from all the ass play - it seemed this girl was a real butt slut. I touched the tip of the plug to her anus and started working it in. Even uninflated, the plug was wider than my three fingers, but with enough pressure I was able to slide the squat black rubber in. Morgan sighed as her ass swallowed the plug up to its base. Given the size of it, I didn't think that the plug had any chance of coming out without some help, but I gave the inflator a couple of pumps anyway to be sure. Morgan groaned as she felt her asshole stretch to accommodate the enlarged plug. I looked around for the enema bag, but I didn't see it anywhere.

Lester, who had staunched the bleeding on Lynn's pussy and had now moved on to shaving the girl's legs, looked back over his shoulder at me. "The bag's in the refrigerator," he said. I paused, not sure that I heard him right. It seemed like an odd place to store it. He read my hesitation and added impatiently, "We're not running a health spa here, Mr. Brigham. Mr. Stone says that these girls get off on punishment and humiliation. I'm happy to oblige."

I went to the mini-refrigerator in the corner and opened it up. There were two bags inside. "Take the clear one first," Lester called. I grabbed it and marveled at the size - it was easily two liters, maybe more. I hung it on a hook high above Morgan and attached the tubing to her butt plug. I tried to picture the entire volume of the bag being transported inside her rectum. I could imagine how full she'd feel, how uncomfortable. I smiled as I opened the valve and let the cold liquid flow.

Morgan stiffened as she felt the cool substance enter her ass. Her grunts became more plaintive as the enema chilled her to the core. She was shivering before the first cramps began to hit her.

"So you do take some pleasure in your work then?" I asked.

Lester paused his shaving and glared in my direction. "Look at me, Mr. Brigham. These are the kinds of girls that wouldn't give the time of day to someone like me. These are the girls that picked on me and teased me in highschool. The way I see it - it's payback. It's karma. It's justice." He reached over to Lynn's freshly shaved thigh and pinched a bruise that was on her leg, and smiled. Lynn tensed in her bonds and grunted but was helpless to resist.

I watched for another minute or so while the enema bag drained into Morgan's waiting ass. Her body was shivering uncontrollably now. She was completely covered in goosebumps. Every now and then I could see her muscles tense when she was wracked by a cramp as her expanding colon shoved her other organs out of the way.

"So you take care of all the slaves here, then?"

"Yep. When there's a big party or something I get some help from some of the other folks, but otherwise, it's all me."

The enema bag was almost empty. I bent low and could see that Morgan's tummy had swelled with the liquid. Her moans were constant. Her discomfort was palpable. Her previously aroused pussy had shut tighter than a mouse's earhole. Her hands, trapped in the stocks, clenched and unclenched in a futile effort to distract herself from her suffering.

I squeezed the last few ounces down into her overfull ass, eliciting a scream and her muted pleas to stop. I shut off the valve on the empty bag and set it aside, then I knelt down behind her. I couldn't help myself. I reached around her waist and explored her swollen tummy, poking, prodding, and pressing much to Morgan's dismay. She begged me to stop, her pathetic pleas coming out as unintelligible grunts from behind her gag. I granted her wish and removed my hands from her bloated belly, and moved them instead to her tits. Her complaints took on a different character entirely as I mauled her breasts, mashing the pins embedded within the cups of her bra into her big soft mounds. Her plugged ass wriggled against me as she tried and failed to evade my grasp.

Her suffering was starting to turn me on. I bet she could feel my hard cock pressing against her pussy through my pants as I leaned into her and had my way with her helpless body. I considered fucking her right there, but I doubted I could squeeze my dick into her cunt considering how full she was already. Besides I was distracting myself from the task at hand.

"Do your responsibilities include taking care of Anna, as well?"

Lynn squealed again as Lester, who had moved to shaving her armpits, nicked her for a second time. "Fuck!" he shouted. "This is your fault! Stop moving, cunt!" He pressed his towel against the cut and scowled. I had been watching - I hadn't seen Lynn move. Lester, distracted by his mistake didn't answer my question. I repeated it.

"Yes, of course I look after Anna. I told you that I take care of all the girls down here."

"And when did you last see her?"

"Earlier today." He had finished shaving the Asian slave and was packing away his tools. He looked over at Morgan. With the cold liquid no longer draining into her, she was starting to warm up again. The color was starting to come back to her body, though she still tensed from time to time as the cramps continued. "I think she's good," he gestured at Morgan. "You can empty her out right there. She's got a drain right beneath her. Just deflate the plug and yank it out, but make sure you stand back."

I bent over and released the air from the inflatable butt plug. Morgan was eager for relief. I could feel her pushing as I grabbed ahold of the butt plug and started working it out. With a sudden pop, her ass released the plug, which was soon followed by a torrent of filthy brown liquid. The smell was something awful. The gushing liquid seemed unending as it poured out of the girl's ass, splashing on the floor, dribbling down her legs, and drenching her hands, still locked in the stocks under her upraised butt. Morgan, all too aware of the disgusting spectacle she was creating, blushed bright red from head to toe. The torrent finally petered out with several gassy farts, leaving Morgan panting from the exertion. Any thoughts of fucking the disgusting soiled woman had fled from my mind. I grabbed a towel and dried some of the filth from her legs and butt.

"She gets a second one now?"

"Yup."

I figured she must have been pretty clean by now, but orders are orders. I found the plug again and easily slipped it right into her gaping asshole. I pumped it up to keep it lodged in place. I went to the fridge and grabbed the second chilly bag and hung it up on the hook. It was about as much liquid as the first enema, but this one was cloudy and thicker.

"What is this stuff?" I asked as I released the clamp and the runny mush began flowing into Morgan's ass.

Lester, who had moved over to the two wooden boxes that presumably contained Carly and Heather and was busy releasing the latches that held onto the sides, paused and smiled back at me. "That's her breakfast," he smirked.

I raised a questioning eyebrow and prodded the bag with my finger. Lester explained. "See, a few days ago Morgan had some 'unkind' words to say to one of the members. Mistress Rebecca is a firm believer of the old adage, 'if you don't have something nice to say, then you shouldn't say anything at all.' So when she heard about Morgan's outburst she had the girl gagged and punished. She's been wearing the gag ever since. And because that little straw in her gag is the only way she has to eat or drink, or breathe for that matter, she's been limited to a liquid diet. And what better diet for someone with a potty mouth than, well, you know."

I looked down at Morgan and saw her in a new light. This girl had seen some serious shit... and eaten some too, I supposed with a smirk. Given that she was expected to hold the enema overnight, I figured that I ought to make sure it stayed in - I didn't want to spoil her breakfast after all. I gave the butt plug a few more pumps to expand it. Morgan squealed as her asshole stretched along with the plug. There was no way it was coming out like that.

Lester flipped the final latch on one of the wooden boxes and the side fell away, landing on the floor with a crash. I could see inside now. There was a woman wearing a black leather bodysuit with her knees folded up against her chest. They were parted just enough for the woman to bend her head forward between them, which was necessary for her to fit inside the low, cramped box.

Lester tipped the box forward and jostled it until the woman inside was shaken loose. She flopped onto the floor, still bound in a tight ball. Several thick leather straps wrapped around her body and held her knees against her chest. Her arms curled around the front of her legs with her right wrist cuffed to her left ankle and vice versa. Her hands had been balled into fists and trapped in a set of leather gloves that wouldn't even allow her to wiggle a finger. Her feet had likewise been bound into a pair of tight boots that held her toes pointed.

The woman (Carly, as I later learned) rolled helplessly out of the box and settled onto her side. No longer confined by the box, she lifted her head from between her knees and flexed her aching neck. Lester leaned over and unhooked her wrists from her ankles and undid the straps holding her legs. Carly sprang flat like an uncoiled spring. The exceedingly tight leather bodysuit continued to hold her immobile as she settled straight-legged onto her back. In this position I could truly appreciate just how tight her bondage was. Straps and laces ran all up and down the bodysuit, pulled as tight as possible. I could see her leatherbound flesh bulging around the broad straps wrapped around her thighs. An embedded corset had been cinched impossibly thin around her waist. A tight crotch strap ran between her legs, hiding a pair of unseen dildos inside her holes. A broad strap pulled across her chest flattened her tits.

Carly groaned as her stiff muscles protested the movement. The muted sounds escaped from the thick leather hood which enclosed her head. A gag and blindfold had been buckled over her mouth and eyes. Her breath whistled from the two small holes positioned beneath her nose.

Lester finished undoing the latches on the other box and an identically bound Heather tumbled out of that one. He undid her straps the same as Carly and the woman sprang into the same position as her companion. I looked at the duo - two immobile leather dolls staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. The only difference was that Heather was a few inches taller - unfortunate for her, given that she had resided in an identically sized box as her friend.

Lester went back to Carly and wrestled the fingers of one hand out of its leather mitten. He grabbed his manicure kit and quickly trimmed her nails, then he brought out a bottle of fire engine red polish to paint onto her nails. The vivid color immediately reminded me of Anna's pretty, manicured fingers and toes. I realized that all the bondage and punishment around me had distracted me from my line of questioning. I admonished myself for losing focus.

"So when was it that you last saw Anna?" I asked Lester again.

The scrawny man remained focused on his task. "Earlier today," he replied. "Mr. Pendleton had asked me to get her ready for him - washing her, doing her hair and makeup, getting her dressed, and moving her to a play room."

"Can you describe exactly what she looked like when you left her?"

Lester paused, seemingly picturing the bound slave in his head. "She was wearing her stockings, garter belt and heels. There was a spreader bar between her ankles and she was bound in a strappado position with a single sleeve holding her arms behind her back. She had a hood on her head and a rope connecting her collar to her spreader bar. There was a nice knobby dildo shoved in her ass - she really hates butt stuff, so I had a lot of fun getting that in," he added with a smirk.

Aside from the dildo, that was essentially the same position that I had found her in when I went down there, which seemed to imply that Mr. Pendleton hadn't been with her long before succumbing to his allergy.

"Do you know what time you last saw her?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Probably right around the time that you arrived I'd guess."

"Uh huh," I nodded. "Well, I don't think I have any more questions for you. You've been very helpful. I'll let you get back to your work."

Lester had finished manicuring Carly's hands and was now struggling to yank her foot out the tight boot that enclosed it. I made my way to the door, but turned around before leaving.

"By the way," I said. "Did anyone tell you how it was that Mr. Pendleton died?"

"I don't know," Lester replied. "I figured it was poison or something."

"It was a deadly reaction to latex. Didn't you know he was allergic?"

"No," Lester admitted soberly. "So what? Someone touched him with a surgical glove or something?"

"Something like that. Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Smalls. I'll be sure to let Mr. Stone know you're doing a bang up job down here."

I left Lester to his work. I figured it was about time that I check to see if Anna was ready to talk.

Chapter 7

I hadn't taken more than two steps before I bumped into John Stone. The well dressed man was a stark contrast to Lester in his baggy coveralls. He was so classy he looked like he probably slept in a three piece suit.

"Ah, Bull! How's the investigation going?" he asked warmly.

"It's coming along nicely. I was just going to talk to Anna again," I replied.

"Good. Good. Why don't you come up with me to my office first? I just got some new Cuban cigars. They'll knock your socks off."

"I really ought to-," I began.

"I insist," John interrupted, guiding me toward the stairs.

"Alright." I was working on his dime anyway. If he wanted me to putz around on the clock that was fine by me. I figured Anna would be alright for another few minutes.

John led me upstairs and to the back of the mansion. I glanced at the impressive oil paintings that lined the hallways. I wondered how many millions of dollars worth of art I was walking past. We arrived at a set of French doors that John swung open and we stepped into an opulent library. The floor was covered in a plush carpet. The walls were lined with shelves stacked with leather bound books all the way up to the ceiling. There were two big, leather chairs positioned next to a cozy fireplace. And in the corner of the room, seated in a high backed wooden chair was a woman.

Unlike the rest of the slaves in the mansion, she was modestly dressed, wearing a flowy cotton sundress. She sat in the chair with her wrists tied to the armrests with soft rope and her ankles likewise bound to the legs of the chair. An opaque velvet bag had been draped loosely over her head, the drawstring pulled snug around her neck to hold it in place. John looked at the woman and smiled.

"Ah, Margaret! You're still here! In all the hubbub around here today I completely forgot to come check on you!" He turned to me. "Please excuse me just a moment. I have just a little business to attend to. No rest for the wicked, as they say."

I'm not sure I would call the murder of your business partner 'hubbub', but anyway I didn't see how Margaret was going anywhere, seeing as how she was bound to the chair. John walked over to the woman.

"I trust you've had plenty of time to come to a decision?" he asked as he loosened the ropes. As he did so, he casually flipped up the woman's dress, briefly admiring the damp spot on her white cotton panties that betrayed her excitement.

"Yes, sir," Margaret softly replied from behind the bag.

"Good." He guided her to her feet and escorted her over to a small table with a stack of papers on it. He picked up the pen there and thrust it into her hands, then he yanked the bag off of her head. The cute blonde underneath squinted against the sudden light and looked down at the papers. She leaned over the table to sign. John held up a hand to stop her.

"And you're fully aware that once you sign this there is no backing out? You are ours for the duration," John queried.

"Yes, sir. This is what I want," Margaret said confidently. She flipped to the last page and signed her name. Her face was positively glowing.

"Welcome to our organization," John beamed. "Let's get you your collar from my office. But first, as I'm sure you must know, you're rather overdressed for our newest plaything."

Margaret looked down at her dress. She shrugged it off of shoulders and it fell to the floor. Her smooth skin glowed under the soft lights of the study. Her modest braless tits were capped by a pair of pale pink nipples that stood proudly erect.

"The panties too," John added.

Margaret looked in my direction and hesitated. She looked back towards John.

"You'll find no use for modesty from now on," he said bruskly.

Margaret took a breath, then hooked her thumbs into her panties and pushed them to the floor. Her face blushed red as John and I glanced down at her neatly trimmed pubic hair. She moved to cover her private parts but John quickly stopped her. "Hands behind your head. Feet apart!" he snapped.

Margaret was startled into compliance. She stood at attention, eyes staring straight ahead. John walked up to her and slipped a finger into her wet pussy. I could hear her breathing quicken as John played with her, rubbing her clit and finger fucking her cunt.

"Does it turn you on to know that you belong to me? That I can do whatever I want with you?" he whispered into her ear.

"Mmmm. Yes, sir," Margaret blissfully cooed. Her eyes fluttered as she lost herself in the pleasure between her legs. John was holding nothing back, his fingers flicked in and out of her warm, wet pussy. Her entire body glowed with her arousal.

"Good." He suddenly yanked his fingers away and held them up to her face. "Lick your juices off of my fingers."

Margaret's eyes snapped open. She looked down at John's slimy fingers. "Now, slut!" John barked impatiently. Margaret blushed again as she lapped at John's fingers. The taste of her own juices seemed foreign to her. I began to wonder if she knew what she had signed up for.

Once Margaret had thoroughly cleaned John's fingers he dried them off in her hair. Then he bent down and picked her panties up from the floor. He made a point of noticing the wet spot in the crotch. "You're a horny little slut, aren't you?" he remarked, drawing a deeper blush from Margaret. He used the panties to mop up the additional pussy juice that had collected on her cunt, then he pulled the panties over her head, taking care to position the damp crotch right over her nose. A humiliated Margaret gazed out between the leg holes.

"Come now," John announced to both me and Margaret. He led us to another set of French doors in the back of the room, unlocking them with his key, and then ushering us in. I was blown away by what I saw inside - it was one part executive suite and one part medieval dungeon. Everything was fit together so seamlessly that it presented one complete picture of power and wealth and sadism and control.

The first item to catch my eye was the large desk that seemed to dominate the room. It had a broad glass top, about five feet by eight feet. On it were all the usual things you'd expect on a desk - papers, pens, a phone, and so on. But what was remarkable about this desk was how it was supported. Instead of a sturdy metal or wooden base, the top was propped up by the bodies of two identically bound slaves!

Each was wrapped in a skintight bodysuit, covering her from head to toe in shiny black rubber with a few exceptions. The girls stood upright on their knees, their feet held tight against their thighs by strong leather straps. Each girl was held immovably in place by a short vertical pole mounted between her legs. The ends of each pole extended up through a slit in the bodysuit between the legs of each girl and deep into her pussy. With their ankles bound to their thighs there was simply no way to lift themselves off of the vertical bars - they were trapped.

The girls were facing inward towards each other. Mounted to the floor just in front of each girl was a low, narrow shelf, several inches deep and about as wide as her shoulders. Upon these shelves rested each girl's tits, fed through a pair of holes in the front of the rubber bodysuit. Two matching shelves were mounted upsidedown to the underside of the glass desktop via several sturdy six-inch long braces. These shelves matched the location of the lower ones exactly so that the entire weight of the desktop was borne by the slaves' tits! Their fleshy mounds had been crushed flat, the soft flesh bulged obscenely from between the shelves. A small bolt on either edge of the shelf helped ensure that the desktop would not slide to either side, but did nothing to alleviate the burden that the girls faced.

There was a narrow hole near each end of the surface of the desk, wide enough for each slave's head to fit. Their heads jutted up through those holes adding their round rubber-covered heads to the general clutter of the desk above. Their rubber suits had a hole through which each girl's mouth and nose jutted - their faces were locked in an intense grimace from their punishing bondage. Their ungagged mouths were clenched shut, ruby red lips pressed tightly together. The circular hole through which the slaves' necks passed bristled with sharp spikes, ensuring that neither girl could rest her weary head against the desk while she stood her vigil.

The swish of water and a muted groan tore my attention away from the desk. Over in the corner was another slave holding tightly to a water cooler. She wore nothing but a pair of thigh high black stockings and a thick leather discipline hood. Her stockinged ankles had been folded up and tied off to her upper legs. Her entire weight, therefore, rested upon a narrow wooden triangular ridge which jutted horizontally from the wall and crushed her poor pussy. Adding to the weight of her body on the wooden pony was the large water-filled jug which the girl clutched against her body with her leather mitten covered hands. The five gallon container was nearly full and its heft was considerable given the way the girl struggled under its burden. But I quickly realized that the slave had a choice. There was a long rope tied from the top of the container, up through a ring in the ceiling, and down to her tightly bound tits. The slave could let the jug hang, allowing its mass to yank her tits up and away from her body and alleviating some of the burden of her weight upon the pony, or, she could hold the hug against her chest, relieving her tits but adding to the misery between her legs.

The girl had recently shifted to the latter configuration - seeking a break for her tits, which had colored a deep purple under the bite of the ropes wrapped around them. Her arms hugged the container tight against her chest, crushing her generous tits from a different, less painful, angle. Though I now saw that the back side of the water jug was textured with hundreds of tiny sharp ridges like a metal file. This was surely to dissuade her from fidgeting while she supported the container with her arms. But the deterrent didn't seem to have worked, given the raw, chafed skin that glowed on the front of her bound tits.

As I watched, I saw that this new position was simply too much for the slave. She had only held the jug for a few moments before the added burden on her tortured cunt caused her to begin trembling. She slowly released the container, groaning as the weight eased back onto her tits. All she got for her trouble was a new abrasion on her left nipple from the grinding of the coarse material against her chest.

Standing next to the pony riding water cooler holder was another slave. Though I doubted that either was aware of the other's presence given the leather hoods they wore, and the plight of their own predicaments. This girl served to hold Mr. Stone's liquor tray. A rectangular silver tray was attached to the front of her tight black corset. The far side of the tray was supported near each corner by a thin chain that was connected to the nipple on that side via a strong, flat clamp. The slave's small tits were stretched down and away from her chest by the crushing pull on her nipples from the tray, a bottle of brandy, a bottle of whiskey, a small bucket of ice, and a pair of snifters.

Like the girls supporting the desk, this one was also riveted in place by a long pole buried in her cunt - though this girl stood fully upright, dancing on her toes. Her lovely, toned legs, draped in thigh high stockings, stretched and strained to lift herself higher to keep the long pole from knocking into her cervix. The stilettos of her four inch heels didn't even touch the floor as she struggled to go just a little bit higher to find relief.

Despite the weight of the tray, the slave stood rigidly upright, aided by the tight corset around her waist, the tall posture collar around her neck, and the pull of the single sleeve armbinder that yanked her elbows together behind her back. But there was one more feature of the slave's bondage which further incentivized perfect posture. On the edge of the tray farthest from the girl's chest there was a shallow groove that ran the length of that side. Resting in that groove were two one-inch diameter metal balls. Each ball had a thin metal chain hooked to it. The opposite end of each chain ran down to a nasty looking clamp on the girl's clit. If the girl allowed the tray to sag too far to one side or the other then the balls would roll off the edge and her clit would get a nasty surprise.

In fact, there was a third ball, I realized - and it was already dangling from the girl's angry red clit! The weight was tugging and twisting the sensitive flesh as it lolled back and forth against the support bar between her legs while she danced from foot to foot. What I wouldn't give to have seen her reaction when that first ball fell. It was a wonder that she didn't dump the entire tray right then, or even the other two balls for that matter. She must have been especially determined to keep the remaining balls balanced after that!

More slaves dotted the spacious office. One stood naked against an X-frame just inside the door, her wrists and ankles stretched out in the restraints. Her back was heavily bruised by the long whip which was draped over her slumped shoulders. Her hooded head sagged forward. I couldn't tell if she was asleep, unconscious, or simply too pained to move it.

Another slave danced on tiptoe beside her. A thin cord tied around each nipple extended up to the ceiling. It was short enough that standing flat footed was impossible. The girl's wrists had been handcuffed in front of her. A heavy weight hung from a chain connected to the cuffs. It swung tantalizingly short of the floor. Another chain connected the bottom of the weight loosely to the floor, preventing the girl from raising her wrists to free her stretched nipples.

Yet another slave was bent over a leather padded sawhorse. A wrist or ankle was attached to each leg. The girl's half-hood covered her eyes, but her exposed mouth was firmly clenched onto a long wooden cane as thick as my thumb. Her pale, unblemished ass gleamed under the lights - it wasn't hard to imagine what her future held.

I found myself looking from one side of the room to the next, my attention stolen by one trapped slavegirl after another. Margaret, the mansion's newest plaything, walked alongside of me taking in the same sights. Her stride faltered as she gaped at atrocity after atrocity, her face growing paler the more she saw. Her hands rose to her cheeks in alarm as she watched the liquor girl subtly shift and the two balls at the end of the tray rolled a bit before stopping just short of the edge.

"I... I think I've made a mistake," she stammered. "I need to-"

She turned to leave and nearly ran right into Mistress Rebecca, who had silently entered behind the two of us. Mistress Rebecca stood as resplendent as ever, filling every inch of her shiny purple catsuit in all the right ways. She towered over the naked girl in her stiletto heels, looking like a lion staring at an injured gazelle. "Going somewhere?" she asked the stunned girl menacingly.

Margaret stopped in her tracks. "I changed my mind. I have to go."

"Go?" the wicked woman asked with amusement. "Go?" She rapped the terrified woman across the face with a rolled up pile of papers, knocking Margaret's panties out of place and obscuring her vision. "This contract here says that you are ours to do with as we wish. Is this your signature?" she said as she unrolled the contract as waved it in front of her.

Margaret didn't need to look at the scribble of ink to know that it was. "Yes, but-," she began.

"Then we don't have anything further to discuss," Mistress Rebecca interrupted. "On your knees, slave!"

Margaret ignored the command and made to step around Mistress Rebecca. Rebecca moved in a flash, twirling behind the girl, grasping her arm and twisting it up behind her back. Margaret called out in surprise and pain. She collapsed to the her knees as Mistress Rebecca wrenched her arm higher.

"No! No! Let me go!" Margaret begged. Mistress Rebecca ignored her pleas and snatched the girl's other arm behind her back. She repositioned them and fastened them together with a zip tie around the wrists and another near her elbows.

"You can't do this!" Rebecca bellowed.

"I think I've heard enough out of you," Mistress Rebecca sneered. She snatched the panties off of Margaret's head and stuffed them into the girl's mouth. John tossed the woman a harness bit gag and it was swiftly buckled in place around the new slave's head. Margaret coughed and choked on the large packing that now filled her mouth. Mistress Rebecca grabbed a handful of the girl's hair and twisted her head so that she looked up into her eyes.

"You have a lot to learn," she sneered. Her voice softened and she brushed a tear off of Margaret's cheek. "But I am a very persistent and thorough teacher."

John now approached with a leather collar in his hands. He wrapped it around Margaret's throat. "While you are collared it represents your complete submission to our organization. We expect nothing less than total obedience."

He closed the buckle a notch tighter than would have been comfortable. Margaret's eyes bulged as she felt the pressure on her throat. "Take a look around," John said. "This will be the last time you 'see' my office. Though I doubt it is the last time that you will 'be' in my office."

Margaret gazed in terror at the various bound and tortured slaves while Mistress Rebecca affixed a leash to the front of her collar. She gave one last desperate glance in my direction, pleading with her eyes for help. She wouldn't find any from me. I gave her a wink and blew her a kiss.

With a tug on the leash, Mistress Rebecca half-led and half-dragged the slave out of the office on her knees. Margaret struggled to keep up. Rebecca closed the doors behind her, leaving me and John alone - aside, of course, from the myriad of hooded slave girls scattered about the room.

"I apologize for the disruption, Mr. Brigham. Can I offer you a drink?" John said. He turned to the liquor tray and plunked two half melted ice cubes into a snifter, then picked up the bottle of brandy. The sudden shift in weight threw the sightless girl supporting the tray off kilter. She slipped down the pole nestled between her legs, gasping as the end bottomed out deep in her pussy. She immediately sprang back up and thrust her chest out, paying special attention to keeping the tray level. The weighted ball dangling by a chain from her clit was a not-so-subtle reminder of what failure entailed.

"No, thank you," I replied. "I need to keep my head clear."

John nodded in approval. He walked around the back of the desk and set his drink down. "Please, take a seat," he offered, gesturing to the opposite side.

There were two chairs to choose from, one was a standard padded wooden chair, the other was not too dissimilar from the one I'd seen Mistress Rebecca using when I'd talked to her down in the dungeon. It was a cramped, squat box. The occupant had been folded up inside so that she could hardly move. Unlike Mistress Rebecca's chair, the slave's face wasn't flush with the seat, rather her head jutted up out of the top, facing backwards. The brown ponytail sticking out the back of her hood had been yanked back as far as her neck would allow. Her ring gagged mouth was held achingly wide.

I considered for a moment sitting in this second chair. It seemed like a terrible opportunity to waste. I could just imagine sitting down with the girl's face trapped between my legs. I release her ponytail and her head springs forward, her mouth engulfing my hard cock. I shook the image away - business first, then maybe there'd be time for pleasure later. I sat in the regular chair.

John seemed mildly disappointed that I chose not to facefuck his chair slave, but he quickly smiled and sat down in his own plush leather office chair opposite me. "You simply must try these new cigars I've got." He leaned forward, putting his hands on the desktop as he reached for the cigar box on the far side. I could hear the sharp intake of breath from the two girls supporting the desk with their tits. One stifled a groan as his added weight pressing down mashed her breasts flatter.

He cut a cigar for me and one for himself, and offered up his lighter. I inhaled the rich tobacco flavor and savored it while John lit his own cigar. As the smoke filled the room, reaching the uncovered noses of the desk slaves the two girls immediately tipped their heads back as far as their bondage would allow, careful to avoid the spikes that ringed their necks, then they opened their mouths wide and stuck their tongues out. John, thinking nothing of it, reached over to the girl on his right and flicked a bit of ash from his cigar onto her tongue. The girl paused a second as the black ash fell, waiting to see if more was coming, then she quickly withdrew her tongue and dutifully swallowed it down before opening her mouth again to await more. I followed suit, flicking my ash onto the tongue of the other girl. I watched her grimace as she swallowed the hot, bitter ashes and then open up again. She clearly didn't like her mouth being used as an ashtray, but she knew better than to resist.

"So what can you tell me about the investigation?" John asked conversationally.

"I'm nearly finished," I replied. "I was just on my way to conduct one final interview. Once everything is ready I'll give you my full report."

"Excellent. I trust everyone is cooperating?"

"They are," I responded truthfully, but there was still something bothering me about what I'd been hearing. Maybe I could get a clearer picture from the boss. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"By all means! You may speak candidly. All the girls here have had their ears stuffed with wax underneath their hoods to keep them from overhearing anything sensitive."

I looked around the room at the various bound girls. They all stared blankly ahead, oblivious to our existence except, perhaps, for the ones with uncovered noses that could smell our smoke, or those who had already felt our presence.

"All these girls," I gestured around. "They're here willingly?"

John smiled. "I'm not sure how willing any of them would be if you asked them directly right now, but they all consented to join our organization of their own volition. I have a signed contract from each and every one of the girls you see here. Whether or not they chose to read it closely before signing is none of my concern. We have abided by the terms and conditions precisely." He tapped Margaret's freshly signed contract for emphasis. Then gathered the papers and stood up. He walked over to a large series of filing cabinets. I half expected to see some bound and miserable girl within when he slid open one of the drawers, but it was just folders - stacks and stacks of folders. He carefully filed away Margaret's paperwork and returned to the desk. There must have been hundreds of contracts in those cabinets. I wondered what became of their playthings once they were through with them.

"Colin was in charge of our recruiting. He could charm the skin off a snake," he explained. "He would scour the world for young, attractive submissives. He would fill their heads with fantasies of fulltime servitude - adventure, excitement, every one of their needs attended to. They'd hear tales of how he'd tease them, toy with them, dominate them, and fuck them. Don't get me wrong, the slaves certainly get the attention they crave." My mind flashed back to Collette's warm, wet pussy - the way her bondage, humiliation, and denial had kept her constantly aroused - and the mind-blowing orgasm I'd given her as she was sprawled out on the kitchen floor. "But I think most realize too late that they got more than they bargained for."

"What about Anna?" I said. "She's special, isn't she?"

"Figured that out, eh?"

"It's my job."

"Yes, Anna is special. She was Colin's latest project. You see, I run the business side of things - paying our staff, collecting dues from the members, buying enough dogfood to keep the girls fed." I wasn't sure whether or not he was joking about that last part as I read his smirk. "We're definitely profitable, but not wildly so. Colin thought he could juice our revenue with a new attraction. That's where Anna comes in."

"We've got dozens of girls for the members to use, but they all have one thing in common - they all are tried and true submissives. They may scream. They may cry. They may refuse to admit it, but if you bend any one of these girls over and spank her ass red, her pussy is going to be absolutely gushing by the time you're through. Part of them wants to be hurt, wants to be humiliated, wants to be punished."

"Colin thought this was off-putting for some of our more sadistic members. They're not here for the sexual satisfaction of the slaves. They're here for fear, for pain, for power. And the idea of playing with someone who is resistant to their games with every fiber of her being appeals to them in a way that the other slaves can't offer. So that's why he acquired Anna."

"You mean kidnapped," I said, saying what no one else here was willing to admit.

John shrugged, suggesting that he thought the two concepts equivalent. "It was admittedly controversial. And risky. Our longtime slave caretaker resigned over the matter. He didn't want any part of it. But we moved on. Colin spent days at a time down in the dungeon with Anna. He was obsessed. I began to suspect that he'd gotten sucked in to his own scheme - he ignored all the other girls, he only wanted to play with Anna. He considered his experiment a wild success. He started planning how he would acquire more girls like her. But now..."

"Now he's dead and I'm left to figure out why," I said, finishing his thought.

"Precisely," John agreed sullenly. "I'm not sure where we'll go from here to be honest." He took a long puff of his cigar tapping more ashes onto the tongue of the slave embedded in his desk. She dutifully swallowed them down with a grimace. Her extended tongue and the inside of her mouth had been stained black by the soot.

He tossed his nearly finished cigar into his empty glass of brandy and abruptly stood up. "I've kept you too long," he decided. I guess he was done talking. "Can I escort you back down to the dungeon?"

"No, thanks," I said, tossing my own cigar into his glass. "I can find it myself and you're clearly a busy man. Thank you for your hospitality, and for trusting me with this investigation."

"By all means! Do let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. I look forward to your report."

As I stood up I saw a newspaper laying on his desk. Normally I'd have thought nothing of it, except that my picture was on the front page. It was the news article from a few months back about the case that ended my career.

"Do you make it a habit of reading old newspapers, Mr. Stone?" I said, gesturing to his desk.

"Oh, that?" he replied. "Funny thing, I found that in the study last week. I figured one of the members must have left it there. That's how I recognized you earlier."

I turned to leave. John grabbed his dirty glass and walked over to the tray slave to return it. He had a sinister grin on his face. I watched as, rather than setting the glass down, he pressed it down onto the tray, pushing harder and harder. The tray slave groaned as she resisted the pressure, her clamped nipples stretching farther and farther. John watched gleefully, admiring the distress he was causing the girl. Suddenly he relented, letting go of the glass. The girl was thrown off balance and sprang backwards. Without the benefit of sight she was unable to react quickly enough.

It felt like time slowed down as I viewed the quickly unfolding catastrophe. The abrupt shift in balance caused the weighted balls to quickly roll from one side of the tray to the other, but this time they didn't stop short of the edge. I saw first one, then the other, plunge off the side of the tray. There was one brief instant where the balls remained in free fall. One brief instant where the slave must have realized that they had left the tray. Then the weights hit the ends of their chains. Their descent was abruptly halted, and all of the momentum transferred to the shiny silver clamp snapped snuggly onto her clit.

The contents of the tray rattled, tossed by slave as her pussy exploded in pain. Her muffled scream was unending as the three heavy balls clattered together below her knees, sending shockwaves up the chains. Her distended clit stretched painfully down from her cunt under the strain of the additional weight. The slave unconsciously lifted her feet from the floor, curling her toes in agony, but dropping her body weight onto her cervix and the long pole pressed up between her legs. She quickly realized her mistake as her impaled pussy exploded in pain, and she stamped her feet back down to the floor. The tray shuddered along with her sobs. She babbled incoherently behind her gag and hood while the clit stretching weights swayed gently back and forth below her knees.

I picked my jaw up off of the floor and quietly made my exit.

Chapter 8

I went back down to the dungeon. As I walked past one of the rooms I could have sworn that I heard the new slave, Margaret, desperately begging and pleading with some unseen person. The poor wretch - at best, her pleas would go unheeded, at worst they would only egg on her tormentors. She was in way over her head.

I unlocked room '2B' that I had left Anna in, and entered. What a sight she was! She was still laying face up on the table, of course. Her legs trembled as she fought to hold her ankles high enough to lessen the pull on her nipples from the twine connecting them to her toes via a loop in the ceiling - given the cone shape that her breasts had been stretched into, it appeared to be a losing battle. Her dark nipples were twisted up and away from her chest, bearing most of the weight of her legs.

Her neck was scrunched at an odd angle with her chin pointed towards her chest and the back of her head dipping towards the floor - clearly an effort to mitigate her other predicaments. She thrust her tongue as far out of her mouth as possible. For her efforts there was the tiniest bit of slack in the line connecting her tongue clamp to her clit clamp. But I could tell from the color and condition of her clit that it'd taken several good hard yanks while I was away.

The heavy weight hanging from her ponytail hung ominously over the inflator for her buttplug. Her stiff neck seemed like it was unlikely to keep it up much longer. I wondered how many times she had allowed it to drop, its weight activating the inflator and increasing the size of the plug in her ass. My eyes drifted to what had previously been her flat tummy. I could now see that it was a little swollen. She must indeed have allowed the weight to drop many times for the plug to have inflated to such a large size. She had to be in agony.

My arrival drew her focus from the arbitrary point in the ceiling overhead to my general direction. "Pleaf, fir! Pleaf!" she pleaded, wincing as her mangled words yanked on her clit clamp.

I walked over to the table. The caning her feet had gotten earlier had really caused them to swell nicely. I took them into my hands. Anna was briefly relieved to have strain on her legs removed... until I started to massage her feet.

She howled in pain as I kneaded my fingers into her soles. She lost control of her tired neck. The heavy weight clunked to the floor. There was a soft puff as the inflator pressed just a little bit more air into her oversized butt plug. I couldn't tell whether that distressed her more, or if it was the tug of her tongue on her clamped clit as the slack snapped out of the line.

"Are you ready to talk?" I asked, briefly relenting from the foot massage.

"Yef! Yef!" she emphatically exclaimed.

Now I was getting somewhere.

Chapter 9

"You all know why you're here." I surveyed the gathered crowd in the main hall of the mansion. John, Rebecca, and the newly widowed Jessica Pendleton sat on the couch. Rebecca had brought a thoroughly bound slave from the dungeon with her to serve as a footrest. Collette, the maid, stood at attention against the wall with her fingers laced behind her head. Her upraised arms lifted her skirt, revealing her black satin panties with a tight crotch strap once again running across them. Lester, the caretaker, leaned on the handle of his broom, looking uncomfortable in the presence of his rich and powerful employers. He had just finished cleaning up the mess that Hank Crowley had made when interrogating his unfortunate slave earlier in the day. Hank, though he hadn't been invited to this meeting, lingered on the periphery, nursing a glass of whiskey as he sat near one of the side tables.

The last member of our little gathering was Anna. I had brought her along in case anyone wanted to question her directly after I made my case. She was kneeling by my side in a worship pose, with her forehead pressed to the floor and her hands stretched out in front of her. I had fitted her with a nice tight discipline hood before bringing her up. Between that and the jaw breaking gag I had shoved in her mouth beforehand, she could neither see nor hear nor talk. I had made it very clear to her that she was not to move until instructed.

"Colin Pendleton is dead, and his death was no accident." My throat was suddenly drier than Christmas tree in March. I took a swig of water and continued. "I believe that Mr. Pendleton's demise was quite intentional, and, in fact, very carefully planned and orchestrated."

"The apparent cause of his death was due to his severe latex allergy. This allergy, as I'm told, is made known to all members and is the reason why the club has a 'bareback only' policy." Over on the side Hank nodded knowingly, confirming my statement. "And yet, despite this rule, Mr. Pendleton did end up exposed to latex, causing a severe allergic reaction. But how did this happen?" I paused for effect. "Perhaps Lester would like to tell you?"

All eyes turned to the caretaker, who had grown paler and paler as I talked. His eyes grew large and he seemed to shrink down into his oversized and ill-fitting jumpsuit as he finally made the connection.

"I... I didn't know," he stammered, his words failing him.

"You see, Lester has decided to take a few 'liberties' with the girls under his care, or, at least one particular girl under his care." I nodded towards Anna. "He knew full well that John and Colin would not approve of him 'using the company assets', as it were, so he was careful. He started with blowjobs, disposing of his, ahem, evidence in the belly of the slave. But today he saw an opportunity that he didn't want to pass up. Recently John had been spending more and more time with Anna. He was smitten. And to Lester's dismay that meant that he didn't have many opportunities to find release with her. But he learned that John was out of town this afternoon and Lester had been instructed to have Anna ready and waiting for him when he returned. Once Lester had trussed up Anna to John's specification, he just couldn't resist. You had to have her, didn't you?"

"I thought I was being careful," Lester muttered. "I didn't mean to..." He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I don't think that you did mean any harm," I continued. "I believe that you made an honest mistake. You fucked Anna in the ass, doing your best to cover your tracks, and then a little while later John did the same, coming into contact with the latex from the condom that you used."

"Murderer!" Jessica exclaimed, glaring at Lester. "You killed my husband!" Her face was filling with tears, which quickly ran down her cheeks, ruining her carefully applied makeup.

"But where did you get the condom, Lester?" I asked, ignoring Jessica's outburst. "Did you happen to bring it with you on the off-chance that you got an opportunity to be alone with everyone's favorite new toy?"

"No," Lester shook his head. "I wasn't expecting to get to use Anna today. Not until I got here and found out that John would be away for a few hours. I got the condom from the bowl on the table right over there." He pointed to one of the side tables in the room. Everyone looked to where he pointed. There was no bowl - just vases filled with flowers and an antique lamp. "Wait! Where'd it go? I swear there was a bowl over there!"

"That is impossible," Collette piped up in her luscious French accent. "We, the members, all knew about John's allergy. We would never put a bowl of condoms out like that." Everyone else nodded in agreement.

"Collette, you frequently clean and dust this room, I assume. When was the last time you passed through here in detail?" I asked.

"I thoroughly cleaned this room this morning, monsieur."

"And there was no bowl on the table then?"

"Oui," she nodded.

"And yet when I arrived this afternoon that bowl was there. I saw it myself but didn't think anything of it at the time since I was unaware of John's allergy."

"What are you implying, Mr. Brigham?" John Stone chimed in.

"Someone wanted Colin dead. Someone who knew about his allergy. Someone who knew that Lester might be willing to bend the rules and help himself to the club's property," I explained. "Lester's mistake may have lead to Colin's latex exposure, but he was set up."

"Given that nearly everyone here knew about Colin's allergy that put me at a bit of a dead end," I continued. "But there was one thing that was bothering me. Colin knew he was vulnerable to an accidental exposure to latex, so surely he would keep an epinephrine injection on hand."

"Yes!" Collette interjected. "He always kept an EpiPen in his jacket!"

"Exactly. When Colin felt his throat begin to close up he immediately scrambled out of the dungeon and went to his coat in the closet. But when he got there, the shot was missing. It had been stolen. He must have stood there, frantically checking his pockets, and finding nothing. Meanwhile his throat got tighter and tighter. Every breath came with difficulty. Finally he gave up on the jacket and went to seek help elsewhere, but he was too late. He didn't take more than a few steps before he collapsed dead on the floor, his body lying on the tile facing away from the closet. So whoever had placed the bowl of condoms for Lester had also removed the EpiPen from Colin's jacket."

"Search the house!" John demanded, standing up from the couch. "Whoever has Colin's medicine is certainly guilty."

"Fortunately, that won't be necessary," I said. "As it happens I saw the missing EpiPen earlier today. In this purse." I picked up the soft leather Birkin bag. There was an audible gasp from the gathered people. All eyes turned toward Jessica Pendleton.

Jessica, remaining calm, put on a defiant face. "This is absurd!" she exclaimed. "Of course I keep an epinephrine shot in my purse. My husband is allergic!"

"Of course you do," I replied. "I would expect nothing less from a caring, devoted spouse. But then, why are there two injectors in your purse? Each with a different date of manufacture and a different lot number?" I spilled the evidence from her purse out onto the table.

Jessica's calm veneer began to crack. She leapt to her feet. "This is ridiculous!" She shouted. "Why should we believe this shameless gigolo? He's such a bad detective that he can't even get a job as a private investigator anymore, so he's resorted to being a male prostitute! He doesn't know anything!"

"That's what you thought," I countered. "That's why you hired me. You thought you were being so clever by committing your crime with me around. You planted a news story about me in the library so that John would know who I was and he would hire me to investigate. You assumed that I'd, at best, be able to pin Colin's death on Lester. Then you would be free from any suspicion. Too bad I'm damned good at what I do." I turned to John. "Mr. Stone, you have your murderer."

"Take her downstairs," John ordered.

Rebecca stood up with a huge smile on her face. "I've been wanting to get a piece of you for a while, princess. Colin always said that you were off limits. I'm going to enjoy this."

"You can't do this! I am Jessica Pendleton! I will own this place! I will own all you! Once Colin's estate is settled-"

Jessica's rant was cut off as Hank helpfully came up behind her and jammed a large ball gag into her mouth. She tried to twist away, but a punch to the gut from Rebecca sent her collapsing into the Texan's arms. She was dragged kicking and screaming down into the dark dungeon.

"Well, Bull, you have my thanks," John said, coming to shake my hand. "I'll have a check mailed to your office first thing tomorrow. Expect a large bonus. I'm sure we can count on your discretion in this matter?"

"Of course," I said with a grin. "Call me if you ever anything else. Where do you go from here?"

"In the short term? Revenge. In the long term? Who knows?" he shrugged. "Good day, Mr. Brigham."

I went to retrieve my coat and hat from the closet. John made his way to the dungeon. I could hear Jessica's gagged protests echo up the stairs as soon as he opened the door. I made my way out of the mansion, savoring the crisp, cool night air. I loved being a detective.

The End