by Gavin Graham
He was so good at this.
She was incredibly riled by him.
She genuinely feared for her life; he made it all seem so real.
She felt helpless that nobody knew that she was there, that she’d disappeared off the face of the earth, and for the first time she wondered what might happen if it turned out that he really was a real-life murderer.
She could die here.
She could be in the clutches of an actual serial killer.
Nevertheless, it turned her on in a way that was otherworldly, as she would now be a part of the most secretive and coveted underground BDSM facility in the world – Death Candy.
“Shall we go to the dungeon?”
She nodded.
“We will have a dinner together, I have prepared an evening dress for you to wear, my wife is cooking the meal for you as a warm gesture that should welcome you into our household.”
She smiled, thinking it was all too good to be true, and that there could be no possible way on earth that her life was at risk.
She obeyed and followed him down the hall to where a locked door opened to reveal another door that was secured by no less than five heavy-duty locks and that door led to a stairway that led them to the sound-proofed basement.
She was a willing victim.
She was ready to embrace a new life.
She was as good as dead.
Chapter 37
The Lair de Sade
“What happened next, please continue, it’s important,” Colin coaxed the man and was deeply engrossed in the story.
“I followed my fiancée to a multi-story carpark. It was dark and creepy. I had no idea what kind of place it was until I saw her go in via a discrete door at the far corner of the basement level. I followed her on foot. I got to the door and saw that it was a sex club for bondage and that kind of stuff. The Lair de Sade it was called. I didn’t even know that Glasgow had such establishments. I’ve seen those places in Hollywood films and online porn videos.”
“Do you watch a lot of pornography, Sir?” Colin was enjoying the sheer seediness of the interview and the casual no-holds-barred approach.
“After that night, watching her like that with other women and men, it kind of got to me. You know?”
“Got to you, how?” Colin couldn’t help see that the man was still visibly aroused to the point that he was clearly uncomfortable about it too, yet, he continued to probe.
“I started to watch dark sex clips online and imagine that my fiancée was a part of the act. I kind of accepted that we were drifting apart and I didn’t know even if we’d end up getting married. She was going into a new world, one of fantasy where men were dominant and heavy-handed, all that sadism and masochism stuff. I wasn’t confident that I could satisfy her as the man she wanted me to be, but, I found my own way of getting into it by watching sex videos and indulging in my own fantasies. That’s all it was, Detective, I just didn’t want to lose her and I was trying to somehow become a part of it. For better or worse, I mean, that’s what a marriage is supposed to be about, isn’t it? It was probably just my way of coming to terms with who and what she really was. Maybe, what I was, too?”
“So, this club, was it the kind of thing that you’d seen in pornographic clips?”
“No, those movies are normally made in somebody’s apartment or just a room that has been painted black and had some BDSM stuff fitted-in, frames and seats, and all the gear. This was a proper club. I got to the door and immediately saw it for what it was and tried my best to play it cool. ‘Are you looking to watch or take part?’ a masked woman in a leather cat-suit asked me. ‘That woman that just came in here with the red skirt and the black leather jacket – I want to watch her,’ I told her. ‘OK in that case you’ll be needing a BLACK-PASS,’ she said and I looked up to see three-levels of pricing options – Red (Novice), Gold (Experimental) and Black (Extreme). So, that was it, my wife-to-be was there to participate in the most ‘extreme’ BDSM sex going down that night. And, apparently, I was going to watch.”
Colin smirked, upped his right foot over the left knee, gripping onto his shin and listening carefully. “Unreal…” he muttered beneath his breath.
“I was given a bag of gear and a key, told to take a locker and get changed, and then proceed into the Main Hall where I’d be able to have drinks and view the scenes at the EXTREME-PLATFORM. If I changed my mind and wanted to participate, that was OK, I just had to turn over the wrist band and it would show me as a GREEN-LIGHT as opposed to a RED-LIGHT, the woman in the leather mask had explained that. Otherwise, I was dressed in the basic attire of mask, latex thong and sandals. The whole thing wasn’t as uncomfortable or unpleasant as I thought it might be.”
“Really?” Colin smirked, again, as though he might be interested in checking this place out himself.
“I was worried, Detective.”
“What, about seeing your fiancée having sex with other men…?”
“Well, not so much that, but I was worried that she might recognise me, my body, you know?” the man looked down to his covered member that was still poking out.
Colin coughed uncomfortably.
The man put his hands down to his lap like he wanted to show the Detective something and based on his current state-of-mind and physical state of arousal Colin wasn’t sure he liked where it was about to go.
“Wow,” Colin recoiled with a jolt.
The man opened his bathrobe to show him a tattoo on his lower stomach of a skull and written below it was a date.
Colin took a breath of relief.
“I thought she might see my tattoo and know that I’d been following her. I didn’t want her to think I was stalking her, you know?”
Colin thought that this was a rather ironic thing to say given the topic of conversation and the secret life that his fiancée had been living behind his back. “What’s the date for? If you don’t mind me asking…?”
“Ugh, just something personal, I don’t want to get into that right now…”
Colin saw that the tattoo was related to some form of emotional baggage and he didn’t want him getting off track or losing any enthusiasm for the confession. “Did she recognise you?”
“Almost. I’ll tell you what happened.”
Colin looked pleased that there was more to come, they were just like a couple of blokes now, sharing good tales over a few pints of beer (or vodka, for that matter). “It must have been some place, inside, eh?”
“It’s like you went to Hell and all your dreams came true. Every kind of body shape is on display, people wear masks, but you see it all, black women, Asian women, skinny, curvy, large breasts, small breasts…my Lara had large breasts and all the men there wanted a piece of her. I took a table close to where she was so that I could spy on her, get a slice of the cake, you know?”
“Of course.”
“I couldn’t keep it down,” he glanced to his lap again, with shame, stiff just from the re-telling of the story. “Sorry about this, I can’t help it, I still get mixed emotions and feelings even though she’s been murdered…”
“It’s understandable.”
“I was sat there with a Corona, garnished with lime, and a double Talisker on the side. I was so excited. I just love that smoky whisky. My heart was pumping and the music was loud – it was this weird German techno music that was dark and menacing. The lights were low and plumes of smoke gathered around the flooring. I was knocking back the drinks and taking turns at looking at her and then looking around at all the others. She was at a table with three guys who she’d invited for a warm-up. That’s what they do. The drink and take drugs and indulge in some casual chat and foreplay. And, when I say foreplay, I mean full-on foreplay. People were just going for it. Lara had a man’s cock in her right hand and was kissing the man who was sat to her left. She was bare and naked down below and with her legs open it wasn’t long before she had another man’s mouth down there, sucking up her juices, getting her more wet and hungry.”<
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“So, you were just sitting there and having a beer as she got sexual with three strange men, how did it make you feel?”
“I pleasured myself as I watched her. I wasn’t the only one, other men and women were watching, and she was looking at them as they looked at her. She looked at me and I got nervous that she might recognise me. She was too lost in the moment to register that it was me, but, I still didn’t want to take a chance.”
“What did you do?”
“I quickly decided to participate so as not to draw too much attention to myself as a lone-watcher. I invited a girl to sit with me and go down on me. She knelt between my legs and took me into her mouth, started sucking and stroking. It was incredible. My heart was pounding. It’s hard to explain.”
Colin smiled.
“I had to think quick and adapt to the surroundings. I have to say the whole thing gave me such an unexpected thrill. The girl finished me in her mouth as I watched Lara having full-on unprotected intercourse with several men, every position imaginable, right there at her table. It was crazy, Detective, I tell you.”
“It sounds a little too exotic for me.”
“That’s only how they get warmed up, turned on, you know? As the night progresses people migrate to the rooms where the real kinky stuff goes on.”
“The extreme stuff?”
“Yeah, I saw for myself what it was that she really wanted, sexually.”
“And?”
“It kind of made sense to see what it was. That experience she had with the Steel brothers tying her up and using dildos on her. To be honest, I think she had liked it, as much as she hadn’t wanted to I think she really got off on it. She had dismissed the humiliation factor. Maybe it was what she was secretly fantasising about all along. She fancied them, she told me, how they were athletic and muscular, handsome too. I remember when we first started sleeping together she had these passing bouts of craziness where she wanted me to be rough with her, to slap her hard across the face, to humiliate her by telling her that she was my bitch, my whore, my slut, things like that. I think it all goes back to that so-called trauma. In the club, she got her extremism, she was getting tied-up by her dominant male of the evening and slapped around before being penetrated with large sex toys. That was what she wanted, Detective, that was my Lara, the girl I was supposed to marry.”
“Did you confront her?”
“Detective, the next day we spent the most wonderful time together, it was like she’d had a reset button pushed and was like a completely different person. I’d experienced this dynamic in her personality before, actually, and I realised that all this is what it must have been. She periodically needed to get this treatment with the hooker on the Blackhill Estate and with her men at The Lair de Sade. Once she’d gone through that cycle of being the sadist, the slut and the masochist she was OK, like she was re-born, a new person.”
“A pretty strange form of therapy, wouldn’t you say?”
“She wasn’t hurting anyone…not really…was she?”
“She was having sex with other people behind your back.”
“It was impersonal sex, Detective, and she was getting something that I was not particularly willing to give her – that rough sex that she was obsessed with. I decided to respect her privacy and give it time to see how long it would last...”
“So, you accepted that she clearly wasn’t marriage material?”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot, and that is why I wasn’t really surprised when I saw that letter. The way it was written and all that, the content, I knew deep down that was her wish and that it was the end of our relationship, as screwed up and deviant as it actually was, it was over.”
“You weren’t concerned for her safety?”
“She was a mature adult, Detective, it was her choice who to get involved with and how she ultimately chose to live her life. I had no way of knowing that she’d wind-up in the hands of a psycho serial killer. Did I? But I can see now that I should have handled it differently, I had made a commitment to her, for better or worse and I should have helped her to deal with her repressed emotions and desires. I could have been the one to do those things, to be more adventurous, to dominate her, control her, by physically firm with her.”
“You are not an aggressive or violent man, I can see that, you can’t change what you are or who you are and nobody should be expected to change for the worse in order to please their partner.”
“I should have been more of a man, Detective, I was weak and scared and I was hiding in the shadows, spying on her, watching pornography and wishing that I had that darkness inside me, to be able to fulfil her and satisfy her. It is my failing, Detective, it is my fault that she is dead…”
“As you said, you had no way of knowing this would happen, it isn’t your fault.”
“I chose not to see the video, I can’t imagine what that monster did to my poor Lara, have you seen it?”
“I have.”
“Was it bad?”
“Yes, it was pretty bad, I won’t lie to you…”
“Was she mutilated, sexually, you know? Down there?”
“She was.”
“She must have suffered greatly.”
“Yes, she did, I’m sorry…”
The man surrendered to his emotions and the hurt that overwhelmed him and he began to sob in a loud and dramatic fashion.
“I’m sorry. Perhaps I should leave you now in peace to grieve. If I may say, however, drinking yourself to death is not the answer.”
The man looked down at the mug of vodka and it was like a sudden realisation was awoken inside of him, a moment of clarity, of sobriety even. He looked up slowly and responded. “Yes, Detective, you are absolutely right. This isn’t the answer.”
Colin stood up and left the man to battle with his demons and work it all out for himself. As he closed the door and walked back to his car he was caught in his tracks as he heard the gun shot ring off from inside the house. He clenched his eyes and cursed with frustration before looking back to the house where a senior law partner had blown his own head off. He couldn’t help but wonder if it had been the comment he made about drinking himself to death not being the answer; he’d never know…
Chapter 38
The last supper
Prior to seeing her and recruiting her at the club, he’d stalked her as he stalked all of his girls, profiling them. He watched her at home and followed her, infiltrating the clubs that she went to, and when the time was right he showed her the message and invited her into his world of evil.
They chatted on-line and he manipulated her into signing a contract.
All of it had been leading up to this, up to a perfect moment when the next victim walks willingly into his house, the door behind her being closed and locked as she is led down to a basement filled with real-life horrors.
It was a true masterpiece of organisation, by inception and delivery, and the homeliness of it all was nothing more than a head-fuck to the victim.
It was bizarre.
It was part of the sheer beauty and ingenuity of it.
His wife cooked a meal and he arranged for them to have a special candle-lit dinner on that first night together, down in the basement, in the place where she would die. Once the outer passageways were closed-up and locked-down there was no sound left, just an eerie silence, the only living persons apart from her that had ever seen the insides of the dungeon with their own eyes were now dead (apart, of course, from the crazy dancer who escaped but nobody believed a word of what she said).
The starter was an arrangement of jumbo shrimps sautéed in butter and served with a mango salsa whilst the main course consisted of pan-seared Japanese ribeye steaks with creamy mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus tips. It was the kind of dish that she’d cooked for Spector in the early days when they’d first come into contact and began what now was the basis of not just a relationship but a marriage.
“This is incredible. Is this wagyu beef?”
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p; He nodded.
“I’ve never had it before. I believe it is so expensive,” she paused to speak between bites, sipping a red wine that was Italian and had a hue deeper than blood, and occasionally looking around at heavy metallic doors which led into the tiny little torture cells; she had no idea what kind of equipment was in there or what kind of erotic things had happened to other women inside them. The gown he’d provided for her was an old-fashioned garment of musty velvet. It smelled of age and wear and when he informed her that it had belonged to his dead mother she was unsure how to take it. It was the only thing that had tempered her insatiable smiling, but, the oddness and mystique that surrounded the man was somewhat endearing no matter how bizarre it came across at times. “Were you very close with her? Your mother?”
“She wasn’t a particularly nice woman, I might go as far to say that I hated her, that dress is a mere symbolic reminder of why I hate women.”
“You hate women?” she seemed unimpressed.
“Yes. That is why I engage in bondage, torture and the doings of this Death Candy facility. We all have our reasons for doing what we do. You have your own reasons for why you want to be a victim and I have my own reasons for wanting to kill you.”
He was making her feel uncomfortable, not by what he was saying, but by the way that he was looking at her. He was boring holes in her skull and chest with a glare that was fuelled with genuine hatred. “So…” she cleared her throat. “What shall we do after dinner?” she asked with a sceptical sultriness in her eye that sparkled in the candlelight.
“After dinner, we will continue what we started upstairs, tonight I will show you pleasure, tomorrow I will show you pain, and the day after that I will show you death.”
His victim smiled uneasily with vulnerable glee, still not knowing if this was all an act, or, if it was real.