At least she had a place to start. She picked up the phone and dialed a friend at State U.
“Diane,” she said, hearing her friend’s voice answer.
“That you, Rob?”
The two exchanged greetings, then Robin got down to business.
“I need you to check on something for me, two students you had, say mid to late eighties.”
“What are the names?”
“Martha Quigley and Zelda Wing.”
“I’ll check in the morning.”
“And another possibility, Remy Thurston-Moore.”
“Got them. This a case?” Diane asked.
“Yeah, Felicia Roman’s murder.”
“My god I heard about it, isn’t it terrible? And you Rob, how are you doing with this? Investigating it too? Isn’t that kinda tough?” As usual Diane was rambling on, not letting Robin get in a word edgewise.
“I’m fine, just fine. It’s a little freaky, yes. Sure, Felicia made an impact on me ten years ago, certainly not one I’ll forget, but I can’t say I’ll actually mourn her death. It’s just a little weird digging into all this stuff now.”
“I think the murderer had to have had a really unique reason,” Diane said. “Not something you’d expect. That would fit Felicia, don’t you think?”
“That’s what I figure,” Robin said. “Every lover she ever had wanted her dead at one time or another, but no one would kill her for the way she loved them. She was obsessive about everyone. That was part of the magic.”
“Exactly. I’m kinda pissed I never had a chance at her,” Diane said.
“I bet you are,” Robin said, thinking of Diane’s kinkier side. She was not a bar scene woman, but the kind of woman that Felicia loved the most, the one-on-one kind that had fun with a good drama. Diane’s love affairs were always whirlwind romances that “would last forever”, always happily dying a week after they began.
“Listen, I have someone here,” Diane said, “I’ll get back to you tomorrow about these three. Anything particular you want me to look up?”
“Everything, when they were there, how they might have known each other, where they lived, if you have that. The classes they took. Anything.”
“I’ll see what I can find. You know I love this part of my job, all this investigative stuff. Just don’t be telling anyone what I’m up to. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“I promise Di, now get back to your sex,” Robin replied.
She listened for the little chuckle on the other end of the phone, knowing that Diane had a lover in bed with her right then. It was part of the joy of calling her at this hour; she could have a little vicarious thrill thinking of the two women making love right now.
Feeling a little light-headed and achy, Leslie pulled herself off the safety of the bar stool and made her way to the toilet. Three cokes had gone through her and she had to pee. The bathroom was a little eerie; the yellow light made it glow with a strange light, but from what she could see, the place was spotless. There were five stalls, one locked; and Leslie could hear the sound of two women inside. It seemed a little ridiculous when every imaginable kind of behavior was allowed out in the club, why would two women hide themselves in a bathroom stall? Fantasy is a strange thing.
There was a small crack in the stall from where Leslie could see the two woman groping each other in a typical moment of lesbian passion. When one dropped to the floor, and began to suck her lover’s cunt, Leslie chose a stall at the other end of the bathroom and did her business.
Then returning to the outer rooms, Leslie took stock of the situation, and seeing Leta standing by the door to one room, she ambled slowly to her side, and smiled when the woman turned her way.
“Jane has Dagne on the pillory,” Leta explained the scene simply.
Looking inside the room, it took some seconds to get used to the darkness that surrounded the two women in the center. Standing on a raised platform was a leather-clad woman who indeed looked far more like a Dom than her submissive pose would suggest. She was locked into an apparatus, her hands and head in stocks, her bottom thrust out lewdly, her legs spread wide. Jane held a dildo in her hand, in the process of greasing it with some slick cream. At just the right angle it gleamed in the strange light that shone from a dim bulb in one corner.
“Getting too bitchy for your own good, we’ll put you in your place, whore,” Jane seethed at her quietly. She wasn’t performing, even though there was an audience of nearly twenty scattered around the room and in two doorways. This seemed as if it were something personal between the two.
Jane smacked her hand hard against Dagne’s ass cheek, then again against the other one. Then she pried the submissive’s ass wide, exposing her anus. From where Leslie stood she couldn’t see it all clearly, but there was enough of a view to keep her happy. She watched as Jane pressed the enormous dildo against Dagne’s ass. Of course, she could only assume it was her ass. Jane was a whole lot more careful than she would have been if it had been a cunt she was violating.
Once making the initial penetration, Leslie watched as Jane shoved the dildo deeper still, her powerful arm pushing it forcefully, all to the tune of Dagne’s plaintive protests. The grunts were deep, but she wasn’t screaming; and somehow Leslie didn’t think she would. This may be punishment well earned, some revenge on the pecking order of this place, but it was consensual.
“You like this in you, don’t you?” Jane tersely accused, as she moved the dildo in and out of the stretched channel.
“My god pleeese,” Dagne gasped, the expression on her face: sheer agony.
“You want it harder, don’t you?”
“No!” Dagne mounted a vibrant challenge.
It wasn’t Dagne’s to control this one. Jane prodded the woman’s rear with a force that scared Leslie, but that didn’t seem at all unusual to the crowd of watchers. When she was finally finished with the rape, Jane reached for straps that she used to tie the dildo inside the woman’s ass. She worked carefully, with expert attention to the details of the knots she tied. Leslie was instantly reminded of the knots on Felicia’s bonds, and Robin’s assertion that it took an expert to craft those so easily.
Once the dildo was fixed in Dagne’s ass, Jane stood back for a moment, then attached a set of clamps to the woman’s dangling breasts. With a chain between the two, all Jane had to do was pull on it to have the woman crying out in pain, writhing nastily—a circumstance that would only make her agony worse. Getting away from the torture became impossible: so why would a submissive think that moving would help the pain? Maybe it was all unconscious, Leslie wondered to herself.
When Jane pulled a strap from the wall, Leslie jumped back horrified.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Leta, whispered in her ear, noticing the pained expression on Leslie’s face.
“But …”
“Just watch,” Leta told her.
A comforting hand rested on Leslie’s back. Leta’s. The unexpected affection stunned her for a moment, then Leslie snuggled into the warmth that began to move through her body.
The punishment strap was two feet long, three inches wide, with a heavy handle that seemed perfectly suited to Jane’s broad hands and powerful arms. She started in on Dagne’s butt, with a series of soft snaps. It landed with a sharp smacking sound, and produced a blush on the surface of the woman’s skin. It wasn’t easy to see the color since it was dark, but Leslie could imagine that before long, Dagne’s ass and thighs, her flanks and everywhere Jane peppered the nasty strap would be a wild shade of crimson.
As she proceeded, Jane’s smacks became harder, and the efficient Domme settled into a steady even tempo, one that Dagne could count on, one in which a submissive might find some sexual arousal. It started that way, with Dagne beginning to grunt and groan as if her loins were burning, the pain beginning to create an edge to shoot for. But Jane was not about to let her have her way so easily. Changing tempos, starting and stopping, she kept the woman in suspended sexual agony, unable to know what
was coming next,
During one brief pause, Jane dropped the strap to her side and gently petted the woman’s thighs. She whispered something into Dagne’s ear, some ‘sweet nothings’ that made her shrink away in fear—as much as she could, considering the stringent bondage.
Because Jane wanted her ass higher and tighter, the ankle straps were removed and a box was shoved under her feet. Dagne stood now with her ass end higher than her head and shoulders. Her legs were tied together at the ankles so she couldn’t move them. The dildo remained in her ass, making the position look incredibly uncomfortable to Leslie’s watchful eyes.
Appraising her submissive’s pose and finding it to her liking, Jane took the strap in hand and let it fly nastily, stroke after stroke landing on Dagne’s ass cheeks, until she was crying and in such agony that Leslie feared she’d pass out. Jane stopped at that very moment when the breathless room finally seemed to change sides in this battle of women, when the audience wanted an end to the vicious punishment, or at least a necessary pause.
It was only a pause, however; Jane was hardly finished. She taunted her submissive with a dozen nasty gestures, pulling on the nipple clamps, tugging on Dagne’s mane of red dyed hair, and smacking her with her hand.
Then taking a thin cane that was hanging on the wall, Jane swished the nasty implement through the air. It hissed, striking Dagne’s bottom at the center of her ass cheeks.
Dagne’s howl filled the air.
The room collectively cringed.
The calculating Jane waltzed around the punished thrust out bottom, making Dagne wait for the next cut. She pulled the nipple chain, and the woman howled again.
“You’ll remember who’s boss here, won’t you bitch?”
When Dagne didn’t answer, Jane jerked the chain again.
“Yes, sir,” Dagne blared.
“And you’ll take another six cuts, won’t you?” Jane said.
“Yes, sir.”
Jane jerked the chain.
“You have quite an audience, my dearest Dagne, tell them how much you want it bitch! Tell them!” Jane’s voice was haughty, but her look was filled with concern. A strange kind of nurturing this was; nothing like Leslie had ever seen before.
“Please sir, give me more.” Desire and fear made Dagne’s voice tremble.
With one last jerk to the chain, Jane returned to Dagne’s ass and ripped off four nasty cuts in a row. Another two followed closely, all accompanied by an agonizing scream.
The room fell silent afterwards, except for the sound of Jane returning the cane to a hook on the wall.
“She doesn’t want it unless there’s a little blood. She’s never been afraid to go that deep,” Leta said. “And Dagne will be happy for it tomorrow when she looks at her wounds.”
“Happy?” Leslie whispered softly.
“Very,” Leta assured her.
Jane became ever so gentle. Her large hands stroked the bound woman with a most tender touch. “You stay here for a while, so everyone sees you,” Jane said without an ounce of the haughtiness that had accompanied her earlier comments. Dorie will take care of your bottom.” She continued to stoke Dagne’s back with the same gentleness that was present in her soothing tone of voice. Then she put her fingers into Dagne’s mouth, and the submissive woman licked them, deliriously hungry for the affection.
“You owe me, darlin’ Dagne,” Jane said. “I’m not always so sweet.”
“Yes sir.”
Jane moved away, nodding to a woman on the side of the room; then walking to the doorway, she passed by Leslie and the crowd of others who had watched the remarkable scene. Jane suddenly stopped and turned around, confronting the investigator with an amused smile.
“My, you look stunning tonight,” she said looking down at the leather vest and the swell of Leslie’s exposed breasts. “A new line of work, or are you here on old business?”
“I was intrigued,” Leslie answered.
“You find out everything you wanted to know about me from my friends?”
“More than I expected.”
“Really? Ready to indict me?”
Leslie confronted a woman who was terribly sure of herself, but one she refused to let intimidate her. “I don’t have the power to indict anyone,” Leslie replied. She held her ground, while at the same time respecting ‘Sir Jane’ in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
Perhaps the Domme saw this, because her manner changed ever so slightly. She inspected Leslie from head to toe, as if she was preparing to place her in bondage. “I’m sure there’s some sassy submissive who would like to serve you here; don’t miss the opportunity. Unless of course you’d rather submit, then I’d take you right now.”
Jane’s suggestion produced a sudden startling surge of energy racing through Leslie’s body. “Thank you for the suggestion,” she said evenly, “I’m sure I’ll have exactly what I need here tonight.” She smiled, but guarded her feelings well.
Jane flashed her a strangely charming grin, charming in particular because it came from Jane whose persona tended to be coolly aloof, and occasionally brutal.
To the detective’s surprise, she found her sex anxiously aroused; some relief was necessary. Although, once Jane sauntered off, Leslie became aware of Leta’s hand resting casually on her bottom, her long fingers fondling her ass.
“Should we take care of this?” Leta whispered in Leslie’s ear. Leslie looked back at the tempting black woman, and nodded. Although still unsure what she was getting herself into, she was so horny that she’d do anything to relieve the ache.
Leta led her through the crowd of disbursing guests, to a room at the back of the club. Though it was small, just an eight by eight cell, the space was complete with all the S&M paraphernalia necessary to contrive most any scene. Once inside the room, Leta began to undo the buttons of Leslie’s vest. “Oh my! These are exquisite,” she said. “So white, so lovely.” Her manicured nails ran lightly over Leslie’s flesh, creating a rash of goose bumps across her skin. Taking Leslie’s nipples between her fingers, Leta squeezed them lightly. “Have you ever had these clamped?”
“No,” Leslie replied.
From the pocket of her skirt, Leta pulled out nipple clamps and dangled them before Leslie’s curious eyes. Despite Leslie’s dominant attire, Leta thought of herself as the dominant in this scene and Leslie her untrained sub, something that hardly fazed the bemused PI. She feared the pain that might follow, but did nothing to stop the sumptuous black woman’s seductive advances.
“How about we start really slow,” Leta purred, with loving tones. Taking each nipple in her slender black hands, she attached the biting clamps to Leslie’s nipples. That the buds of Leslie’s breasts were already erect made it that much easier. “My, you have enormous nipples, you should have them pierced.” Leslie shuddered – although, at that moment, she’d probably have consented to just about anything. “Little rings, maybe?” Leta added, flicking her red lacquered nails against the tiny buds.
The sensations that followed were exquisite, a soft burning feeling moved through Leslie’s body, settling in her cunt, while the heavy chain that joined her clamped nipples dangled between her breasts, and gave her constant stimulation she could not ignore. Even though the scene had just begun, she was starting to comprehend the reasons for this kind of sex.
Backing away from her now, Leta turned her attention to Leslie’s leather clad bottom, running a hand along the polished surface of her pants.
“Humm, yes,” Leslie groaned, feeling the gentle touch all the way to her cunt.
When Leta smacked her ass, a satisfying warmth spread through Leslie’s rear. A dozen smacks more and the lovely sensation just increased.
“On your hands and knees,” Leta ordered—even though there was hardly a demand in her voice.
Leslie obeyed unthinkingly, while Leta drew a riding crop from the wall. The woman walked around her newbie sub, taunting her as she whisked the leather implement through the air; its sound as noxious as Si
r Jane’s cane. Unlike the cane however, this instrument had a wide flat end that would make a far different impression on a yielding ass. At first just taunting her, Leta then made a sudden change, quickly rapping Leslie’s bottom with a half dozen sharp snaps. The sound was ferocious, each strike to Leslie’s upturned bottom, seemingly ruthless, though it only added another measure of delight. Leslie tried to forget the way she’d so abruptly consented to this, how in the past she believed that being submissive was contrary to her nature. All her former objections didn’t seem to matter in light of what she felt now. Her squirms and moans were simply pleas for more, and she was not the least bit upset when the strikes from the crop came hard and fast.
“You ready for this?” the gentle dominant purred. She bent down and reached around Leslie’s waist to find the button on her leather jeans. She had them off Leslie’s ass seconds later, before her submissive could even reply. Seeing Leslie’s bare butt wiggling in anticipation was all the encouragement Leta needed. “My, I’ve hardly made it red,” she declared. “Your pants have protected you too well. You’ll have to learn to take a whole lot more before we’ll call you sub.” She said it sweetly, but she meant it.
This time the crop landed cruelly, sending sharp jolts through Leslie’s rear, though they were still no less welcome. There was no way Leslie could stop this, even as she felt a steady burn rising on her skin, a burn that quickly turned into an edgy, biting pain. What she needed now was to come. Her body ached in ways it never had before. The savage beating produced a savage arousal until she thought she would explode.
When Leta collapsed at her side, her smooth black hand found its way between Leslie’s legs where she was sopping wet. The two then tumbled into each other’s arms with Leslie welcoming the sensuous kisses that covered her face and neck. She came seconds later with her hips bucking violently against Leta’s hand, and the grinding spasms of climax filling her with their cruel pleasure.
“Come here, slut, and please me now!” Leta demanded. Without giving her sub time to recoup, she pulled Leslie to her glistening pussy, forcing Leslie’s mouth into the steamy furrow. As her subbie licked and sucked and lapped her juicy snatch, she came, whimpering softly. Her nail’s dug into the brunette’s hair as she released with a throaty bellow. “Oh, my god, yesssssssss….”
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