Bodies By Design: The 2nd Jasmine Frame Novel (Jasmine Frame Detective)

by P R Ellis

  ‘There is no comfortable position. That’s the point.’

  ‘Well, I could cover you up.’

  ‘Forget me. Find Marilyn!’

  ‘How? Where has she gone?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Kelvin seemed to sag. His head hit the carpet and but for his arms and legs being held in their forced positions it seemed that his body would have subsided into a puddle of misery.

  ‘Think! Where would she be likely to go?’

  ‘I don’t … wait. There is one place.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘It’s a flat we bought recently, a basement. Marilyn wanted a dungeon. She’s been fitting it out. Wouldn’t let me see it till it was ready.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Wantage Road, number four, on the left just up from the roundabout. Do you know it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, go then! Don’t let her kill herself! She’d be quite capable of it, but I don’t want her to die, whatever she’s done. I love her.’

  The emotion in his voice was obvious. Jasmine realised that though their relationship was unusual Kelvin Taylor obviously liked what Marilyn did to him. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m fine. I can take this for a lot longer.’ His voice carried a note of strain which wasn’t entirely convincing. He rested his head on the floor again.

  ‘OK, I’ll go.’ Jasmine picked up her bag and eased herself to her feet. She couldn’t imagine what the strain of his position was doing to the muscles in Taylor’s arms and legs and she couldn’t see how it could ever be pleasurable.

  She left by the door by which she had broken in, stepping gingerly over the fragments of glass. A few moments later, she was racing back into Kintbridge with her foot pressing the accelerator flat against the floor. How on earth had she missed the signs? It now seemed blindingly obvious to Jasmine that Marilyn Taylor was not only trans, but also a dominating and controlling sadist. She could see it now, of course, in both her appearance and her manner. But what was her attraction to Xristal, who couldn’t be more different to Kelvin as a subject for her pleasure? And why kill Xristal and then go back for Tilly? There were still more questions than she had answers for except for the most important one – she now knew who the killer was.

  She sped past a speed camera and noticed the flash in her mirror. She turned left at the roundabout with tyres screaming and skidded to a halt outside the first pair of large, Victorian semi-detached houses. Jasmine turned into the gateway and drove onto a large gravelled area that could easily accommodate half a dozen cars. A new black Jaguar was the sole occupant. Marilyn’s here, Jasmine thought, or at least nearby. She pulled her Fiesta up alongside the Jaguar, got out and stood looking and listening. Apart from the rumble of the traffic on the main road there was silence. Tall trees guarded the house, putting it in shadow. It was a large house with two floors and rooms in the attic in addition to the basement. Stone steps led up to a tiled porch and an imposing painted front door flanked by stained glass windows. It wasn’t the ground floor she needed. Was there a separate entrance to the basement flat? The tops of the basement windows were just visible at ground level. Jasmine stepped forward and looked down into a narrow vaulted area. From what she could see of the windows it looked like they were shuttered on the inside.

  She went to the side of the building. The car park area merged into a scruffy lawn which extended down the side of the house and sloped into the back garden. The pit between the building and the garden became wider and shallower. Steps led down into it midway along the side of the house. Jasmine walked slowly towards them scanning the side of the building for any sign of occupancy or that her arrival had been noticed. There were a couple of small side windows, but they too seemed to be sealed and shuttered. She reached the steps. They were steep and narrow but led down to a doorway. Her ears straining to catch any sound, Jasmine stepped gingerly down - one, two, three, four steps, wincing slightly at each. The basement door looked old and in need of renovation. There was an old brass knob - she turned it. The door swung inwards. Jasmine stepped inside onto a rush doormat.

  ‘Mrs Taylor! I’m Jasmine Frame, detective,’ she called, ‘We’ve met a couple of times. We need to talk.’

  Jasmine braced herself, half expecting Marilyn Taylor to come running at her with a knife or some other weapon in her hand. She dropped her shoulder bag to the floor so that she could move her arms freely.

  There was no reply. Not a sound. She found herself standing in a dark hallway that extended in front of her with three doors off to her right and one halfway along the wall to her left. The only light came from the doorway in which she stood. She took two steps forward, placing her feet very deliberately on the thick pile of the carpet so that she felt balanced, prepared. She reached the first door on the right and pushed it. It swung open revealing a large, dark room. Thin strips of daylight around the shutters provided just enough light to show it was a bedroom. There was a large metal-framed bed not unlike the one in Xristal’s flat, but otherwise the room was empty.

  She moved on, reached the second door and pushed it open. A bathroom. Spacious, dark but with the usual fittings. A few more steps across the hall took her to the single door on the other side. It was different to the others - new. She placed her hand against it. It didn’t move. There was a handle. She pressed it down and pushed. The door unsealed itself with a sigh and squeak of rubber and moved slowly open due to its great weight and thickness. Light flooded out, banishing the darkness of the hallway. Jasmine stared.

  Marilyn Taylor was standing in her red stilettoes on a low, wooden stool in the middle of the room. Her legs were covered to mid-thigh with fishnet stockings held up by suspenders attached to a black leather corset studded with steel points. Her bare upper thighs and groin were smooth white but for an inverted triangle of meticulously trimmed black pubic hair, and her breasts rested on the rigid quarter cups with her dark nipples pointing towards Jasmine. Her hair was drawn up in a tight bun. Behind her, the windows were covered by shutters that let no light through at all. The room was illuminated by small LED spotlights arranged in a rectangle in the centre of the ceiling right above where Marilyn Taylor was standing. Some were directed at the walls and others towards the centre of the room. Each lamp produced a narrow cone of light, but in between there was shadow. In fact, Jasmine realised, the lights only emphasised the darkness of the vast room which took up almost half the basement. Marilyn herself seemed to be suspended in light in the centre of the room - the centre of her universe.

  ‘You!’ she screeched, ‘I thought it would be the other one. The man.’

  Jasmine took a step forward into the room. The floor felt different under her feet. She glanced down. The carpet was confined to the hallway. Here, in Marilyn’s dungeon, the floor was stone. From the way that light reflected off it, it looked like black marble or polished granite.

  ‘Stop! Don’t come any closer.’

  Jasmine looked up again at Marilyn and saw that she was holding a chain. It was connected to a steel beam that ran the length of the room. She noticed that the chain was wound around Marilyn’s neck with very little slack. ‘If you take another step I’ll jump off the stool,’ she said, her voice steely. ‘I’m going to do it anyway.’

  ‘Now Mrs Taylor, Marilyn, can I call you that?’

  ‘Marilyn or Mistress. Don’t you dare call me by his name!’

  ‘OK, Marilyn. You know why I’m here. I’ve been to your house. I’ve spoken to Mr Taylor, Kelvin.’

  ‘That weak, snivelling sack!’

  ‘He told me you had accepted responsibility for the death of Xristal Newman and Tilly Jones.’

  ‘The Jones girl was an accident, the stupid bitch,’ Marilyn spoke defiantly. ‘Xristal…’ her voice faltered, ‘Xristal was different. I didn’t want to kill her, but I had to.’

  ‘That’s good, Marilyn. You’ve admitted it. We can move on.’ Jasmine stepped forward.

  ‘I said, don’t move!’ The stool wobbled.
Marilyn gripped the chain above her head. ‘I won’t go to prison!’

  ‘OK, Marilyn. You’ve admitted you were responsible for Xristal’s death. Come down. Let’s get you out of here and get things sorted out.’

  ‘I won’t go to prison!’ Marilyn shouted. ‘All those women. I can’t spend my life surrounded by women. I’m going to end it, now.’ She bent her knees as if preparing to jump, the chain pulling taut on her neck.

  Shit, she’s really going to do it, Jasmine thought, I’ve got to stop her.

  ‘OK, Marilyn, I’m staying here.’ Jasmine put her feet together, hands by her side, hoping desperately that Tom would arrive soon. Then she remembered. She had forgotten to phone him and tell her where she was going. He would go to the Taylors’ house first and have to get the address from Kelvin. Her phone was in her bag which she had dropped by the entrance. She would have to keep Marilyn talking, take her mind off killing herself.

  ‘Talk to me, Marilyn. You said Tilly’s death was an accident. Tell me about it.’

  ‘She fell, banged her head. Pathetic little whore.’

  ‘How, Marilyn? Why were you there?’ Jasmine tentatively took a step forward.

  ‘I went to tell her she was going to be evicted.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You told us she was living as a common prostitute. We couldn’t have that.’

  So it was my fault, Jasmine thought.

  ‘What was her reaction?’

  ‘She totally flipped. Started yelling at me. I went up to look at the top floor flat - Xristal’s flat. She followed me up the stairs. She grabbed me. I pushed her off. She slipped, rolled down the stairs. I heard her head hit a step. She reached the ground in a heap and just stayed there.. It was obvious she was dead. So I left.’

  ‘Did she say anything about Xristal? About you and Xristal?’

  ‘No. She didn’t know a thing, the little fuckwit.’

  Jasmine took another step forward.

  ‘Don’t move!’ Marilyn ordered, ‘I said if you wanted my story you’d have to keep away from me. Go back to the door – now!’ She tensed as if again preparing to jump.

  ‘OK, Marilyn, I’m backing off,’ Jasmine backed a couple of paces until she felt the wall behind her. ‘Tell me about yourself, about you and Kelvin. He seems to love you.’

  ‘Fat pig. He was no use as a sub.’

  ‘A sub? You mean submissive? He was your sex slave?’

  ‘Huh. He was no use for sex with his shrivelled little prick - he could barely get it up. Binding him, beating him, humiliating him gave me some pleasure, but I only married him for his money.’

  So, the idolisation was all one-sided. Jasmine couldn’t understand how a man could be successful in his career as Kelvin Taylor had been, and yet desire to be trampled on by his mistress.

  ‘So, he didn’t know you were a trans-woman?’

  ‘No, not that it would have mattered to him. He wanted to be dominated and used – and to flaunt an attractive woman on his arm. I gave him what he wanted, but he couldn’t satisfy me.’

  ‘What do you want, Marilyn?’

  ‘Cock!’

  Jasmine almost fell back against the wall at the force of Marilyn’s answer. The tiny ceiling lights dazzled her; she leaned forward to avoid the beam, searching Marilyn’s face.

  ‘I suppose you want to know my story?’ Marilyn continued, calmer now. ‘Well, I’ll tell you before I end it all.’

  ‘That’s right, Marilyn. Tell me everything,’ Jasmine said, praying that Tom or Patel or Sloane would arrive in time to help her stop Marilyn Taylor killing herself.

  Marilyn straightened up on her stool. ‘It was all about Xristal, you see. I loved her because she reminded me of myself. I was like her once, you see - a sexy girl with a big cock.’

  She paused, as if waiting for Jasmine to react.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Jasmine said, and took a half pace forward.

  ‘I was a pretty boy with long hair who liked to dress as a girl. I kept it to myself until I was seventeen when my father found me dressed up. I was wearing my sexiest miniskirt and T-shirt with a bra stuffed out with tights. He slapped me round the face a few times and threw me out. He told me he never wanted to see me again. That suited me fine. I hitchhiked to London and wandered around until I found an address I’d come across in a porn mag. It was a club for trannies and other weirdoes. It was there I met my mistress.’

  ‘You were a sub?’ Another half step forward...

  ‘Of course. You don’t learn to be a Dom without being a sub first. My mistress taught me all I needed to know to become a Dom myself. She gave me lovely girls’ clothes to wear when I was out and paid for me to get my tits done.’

  ‘And you didn’t mind what she did to you? The S & M?’ One more step...

  ‘Mind it? I loved it - the loss of control, the lack of responsibility - but I also knew that I would like to be in charge, to decide for myself when I would come and how I’d use my cock. You see, I found I enjoyed fucking both girls and boys.’ She smiled.

  ‘What did you do?’ Another few inches...

  ‘I left and went into business myself. I called myself Miss Adventure. I did well. The people who wanted to be subs, men and women, loved what I did to them, loved that I looked like a young sexy woman but had a stonking erection between my legs.’

  ‘But that changed?’ A discreet shuffle...

  ‘Everything does, doesn’t it? I was successful, but it’s an expensive business. You need the right property, good equipment, new attractions all the time, payments to people who need to be kept happy, a few slaves to keep the place tidy and service the guests. My subs paid well, but I was never rich. It began to become a chore just keeping up.’ She sounded as though she were running a corner shop.

  ‘But you didn’t give up being a dominatrix?’

  ‘Oh, no. I couldn’t give up being the one in charge. I decided to look for a partner with the finance. Someone who had the money to keep me in the style I wanted and who would appreciate my talents.’

  ‘That sounds an unlikely mix.’ Half a step...

  ‘You’d be surprised. There are many powerful men who like to be subjugated from time to time. I wanted a man – a man that would marry me.’

  ‘Wouldn’t a civil partnership do?’ Another creep forward...

  ‘Not for the men I was after. They weren’t gay. They needed a woman at their side, to give the outward impression of normality - whatever else they wanted to get up to in private.’

  Marilyn seemed so absorbed in telling her life story that Jasmine felt able to take further small, slow steps forward.

  ‘So, you had to become a woman?’ With the Gender Recognition Act becoming law in 2004 Jasmine realised that Marilyn must have been able to complete her plan once she had a gender certificate. No-one would have suspected she had been a man as she would have had a new birth certificate.

  ‘I already was in every way, except for my cock.’

  ‘But you said you enjoyed using that. Surely you didn’t want to have surgery?’

  ‘I thought I was ready. I was approaching forty. Sex was less of a novelty and, in any case, I enjoyed being penetrated so long as I was in charge. I weighed up the options and took the decision. I had the chop.’

  ‘And what happened then?’

  ‘I realised I’d made a huge mistake.’

  ‘But you married Kelvin. That was your plan, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes, that part went perfectly. I went back to work and soon had a number of clients who were marriage prospects. I chose Kelvin because he was the richest and had no family here - just the ex-wife and kids in Australia. He was older too, not very fit. I hoped he might die fairly quickly and leave me his money.’

  ‘What went wrong?’

  ‘He was boring - and he didn’t die. My treatment of him gave him just enough exercise to keep him from eating and drinking himself to death. But he couldn’t give me any satisfaction with his miniscule prick.’
/>   ‘You couldn’t get an orgasm? Is that what you mean?’ Jasmine hoped that wasn’t too sensitive a question.

  Marilyn sighed. ‘That was it.’

  Jasmine was anticipating that sex-change surgery would leave her, like most trans-women, with the ability to reach orgasm, but it didn’t work with everyone. Marilyn was obviously one of the unlucky ones.

  ‘I was perpetually on the edge but never got there.’ The frustration was evident in Marilyn’s voice.

  Jasmine was closer now, able to examine Marilyn’s face and see the pain and anguish that was revealed there. She seemed totally wrapped up in telling her story.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘The only thing I knew how. I looked for other subs to fill the void that Kelvin left. I picked up men and women here and there who wanted an experience of domination, but it wasn’t the same without my cock or the testosterone.’

  ‘What about Xristal?’

  ‘Ah, Xristal.’ Marilyn’s face took on an expression of ecstasy and she swayed slightly. Jasmine readied herself to leap forward and grab her. ‘She was everything I had been. Together we were as I had been with my mistress. She took me back. When she was inside me it felt like the reverse and as if I had my penis back and was fucking this beautiful, submissive young girl.’

  ‘But then?’ Now Jasmine was just a pace from Marilyn.

  ‘She told me she wanted to go away to have the chop, to become a full woman. She wanted to lose that wonderful tool she had. I couldn’t bear it. She was going to make the same mistake I had made. I would lose her, lose the pleasure she gave me!’ Marilyn cried and rocked from side to side, the stool wobbling and the chain tightening around her throat.

  ‘I pleaded, but she wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t let her do it! I couldn’t let her go away!’

  ‘So, you killed her?’ As Jasmine spoke she knew it was the wrong thing to say. She should have chosen her words more carefully.

  Marilyn’s eyes opened wide and she appeared to become aware of Jasmine standing less than a metre from her. ‘You disobeyed me!’ Her eyes bored into Jasmine. ‘You’re a fake, aren’t you? You’re no more a real woman than me. You may have had yours off - but you’re still pretending to be a woman.’