by J Paton
Maybe it hadn’t been collected or processed as evidence yet? If that was the case, then why had the men been set free? Tension built at the base of my skull as I read the information twice more before sitting back to stare at the screen. I had more questions than answers, and a head humming with anxiety.
Was it just poor police work? Or was it something else entirely?
Jumping the gun, much? Police officers were overworked and stretched to their limits daily. Maybe the officers involved haven’t had a chance to file everything, yet. It was a logical assumption, but something wasn’t sitting right, and I was fucked if I knew what it was.
Was my past getting in the way?
My gaze roamed over the screen. It was a given that some coppers lacked sympathy when it came to crimes committed against gay men. Was that what it was?
Finding no answers, I shut the computer down and grabbed my pad, shoving it in the pocket of my armoured jacket and heading out of the office in search of the elusive answers.
Tucker
Sat opposite the SIO, Detective Inspector Thompson, I flicked a glance around the open-plan room to check who might be listening into the conversation before I started.
“I don’t have all day, Sir. It was you who requested this meeting. So do you want to get on with it?” DI Thompson’s voice was full of impatience, even though he was sitting back in his seat looking relaxed. His suit jacket hung on the back of his chair and the pale blue shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows to reveal tanned forearms.
Concerned about the two men who were only three feet away, I nodded at DI Thompson. “Do you have a place we can talk in private?”
He sat forward, a frown marring his previously smooth brow. “What’s this about? Surely you can talk about whatever it is that has your knickers in a twist?”
The guy closest to the desk sniggered at the DI’s comment, but I kept my gaze fixed on the DI. “I prefer boxer briefs, and they’re currently not twisted. Now, we’ve cleared that up, do you have a place we can go?”
“That’s good to know if I ever get you for a secret Santa gift,” DI Thompson replied, his voice laced with humour. “Come on, I think the conference room down the hall is free.” When he got up, I followed.
The door of the conference room shut behind us, I took a seat at one of the twenty or so chairs around the large table. The DI took a chair beside me and I twisted to face him. “You know the kidnapping and assault case you’re dealing with?” When he nodded, I carried on. “Mr. Robertson contacted me two days ago and asked me to visit his home—”
“Why would he contact you? You’re not SIO, I am. Did you tell him to talk to me?” There was an underlying hint of steel in the DI’s voice, his expression impassive.
“He wouldn’t give anything away on the phone. He insisted we speak in person.” I shrugged, hoping I sounded believable. I continued to relay the information that Mr. Robertson had given me. After I’d finished, I sat back to take in the DI’s frustrated expression.
“I can tell you that this wasn’t what I expected when Mr. Robertson contacted me. I think the only reason he got in touch with me was because of my initial involvement. Mr. Corrigan, Mr. Robertson’s partner was present when we arrived on the scene at New Year, so he may have remembered me.” I’d gone over it and it was the only plausible reason I’d been able to find.
“What a fucking mess. You seem convinced that he’s telling the truth?”
“I’m cautious, but there was real fear and a ring of truth to his story. It didn’t appear rehearsed or disingenuous. If he’s to be believed, then Mr. Critchlow’s home is a crime scene, and possibly the Dom’s Haven as well. I’ve checked the police report from back in January when Mr. Robertson alleged that someone tried to grab him in the street on his way to see his psychologist—”
“Seriously, Sir, what are you playing at? This isn’t your case.”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building despite expecting the anger coming off the DI. “I know, alright. But I wanted to verify some of what Mr. Robertson had said before I came to see you.” Again, it sounded plausible. I watched the other man carefully to see if he bought it.
When he leaned back in his seat again, I released the breath I’d been holding.
“Okay, we’ll go with it for now. What did you find?”
“That’s the thing, extraordinarily little. From what I gleaned from both Mr. Corrigan and Mr. Robertson, there must have been more than a dozen witnesses, yet there are no witness reports. I’ve yet to speak to the PC’s who attended the scene...” I swore under my breath at my slip-up, the DI’s expression turning stern.
“Again, overstepping. You seem to have more than a passing interest in this case. Why is that? Am I missing something here?”
The quietly spoken question caused a film of sweat to form on my upper lip. “I was involved from the beginning. It was my team that found the men. Hell, I was there when the guy who’d kidnapped Mr. Robertson regained consciousness and threatened to do untold harm if he got his hands back on the victim.”
“Are you sure that’s all this is?” The DI’s head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowing.
The expression on DI Thompson’s face caused a ball of anxiety to lodge in my throat and I had to work to swallow past it. Since I’d visited Mr. Robertson, my instincts had had a full workout. Did the DI know something about my past? It was possible, but unlikely. Yet alarm bells continued to deafen me. I moved my hands off the table when they started to tremble. “What else could it be?” I ground out through a jaw aching from restraint.
“I don’t know, you tell me. But if I were a betting man, I’d say that you seem to have a personal interest in this case, given the level of inquisitiveness I’m witnessing here.”
Was it a reasonable assumption for the DI to come to that conclusion? Yes, it was personal, but not in the way the man assumed. “I have no personal interest in this case. All I’ll say is this, the case has struck a chord with me that relates to a past case I was involved in.”
The DI nodded. “That might be the situation, but the fact still remains that it’s out of your remit.”
“I get that. I don’t want to step on your toes. Mr. Robertson is expecting me to be present when he’s invited in for interview. I know I can be of help.” I dug out my notepad with all the information I’d collated so far. “I can go through what I have for you to follow up.” The air in my lungs stayed there as I waited to see how the DI would react.
A long silence followed, seconds ticking by as the DI stared at me as if he was searching for something.
Finally, he nodded slowly. “Alright, but remember who’s leading this investigation. And you’ll also need approval from your boss. Got it?”
Fuck’s sake! I nodded, even though I had no idea how to obtain his approval when I’d been told to hand the information over.
“Let’s go through what you have.”
I exhaled shakily. “The centre of everything seems to be a club called Dom’s Haven. It’s a BDSM club in Dungeons Wharf, in East London. Mr. Critchlow is alleged to be a member. Mr. Robertson states that Dom’s Haven is where he was ‘given,’ his word, to Mr. Critchlow, and after that he was taken to Mr. Critchlow’s home and kept captive there for more than a year. When Mr. Critchlow took him out as a reward for being good, Mr. Robertson managed to escape by calling for help in a car park. Mr. Robertson states that there are records of his hospital admission and the extensive injuries he sustained at the time. Fast forward to a few months later. Next came the incident in the club. Subsequently, there was a further incident in the street, where Mr. Robertson states that the manager, who is possibly also the owner of Dom’s Haven, attempted to grab him in broad daylight and put him in a vehicle. This attempt was thwarted by Mr. Corrigan, who had followed because he was concerned about Mr. Robertson being on his own.”
The DI started to fidget in his seat but let me continue uninterrupted.
“That takes us to wha
t happened four days ago, where two men attacked Mr. Corrigan in the underground car park situated under The Playroom. Mr. Robertson was in Mr. Corrigan’s vehicle. But it seems one of the men tried to jimmy the door of the truck to get to Mr. Robertson. Mr. Corrigan again stopped this from happening.” I pushed the notepad that held the full timeline of events towards the DI.
“Fuck’s sake, why am I only finding out about this now? Why was it not flagged when there is an ongoing investigation involving Mr. Robertson?”
It was a question I couldn’t answer, but it confirmed my suspicions that something wasn’t right about this whole situation. The question was, was it just poor police work or something else?
The DI sat forward. “What are your thoughts on all of this?”
Something held me back from answering frankly, but I wasn’t sure what it was. All I knew was that I wasn’t ready to voice my concerns about the lack of policing. I shrugged. “Right now, I’m not sure what my thoughts are, not without all the information. I’m sure that Mr. Robertson has more to tell, so I’m not going to jump to any conclusions yet.”
DI Thompson nodded slowly. “I’ll check when the forensic suite is free. The only issue at the moment for me is time. I’ve got several cases coming up in court, so it might take a few days to sort out a date. Will that be a problem for you?”
“Nope, I don’t have any scheduled time off. I’ll be preparing for Mr. Robertson’s court case myself, so this will help to refresh my memory on the details.” It was a total lie. I’d already gone over all the details of the case and picked it apart bit by bit. There was nothing I didn’t know about the case, but I wasn’t prepared to share that, not when the DI had given me permission to dig a little deeper.
Dom’s Haven
Underneath my deliberate façade of apathy, there was terror. The way the monster swaggered towards me was much like a gunslinger in one of the old western movies. The intent on Master’s face said that my fate was sealed. Chains clanged loudly as I was released from the bondage cuffs that held me trapped against the cold wall.
Due to being confined in the cramped, cold cage that our captives used to house the subs when the club was closed, there was little strength in my legs. Food was given only as a necessity, so that the bastards could keep us healthy enough to cry out, and to struggle against our bindings for the pleasure of the sick, perverted monsters.
I didn’t look at the monster in front of me, keeping my head bowed in a subservient pose, even as my arm was taken in a punishing grip that stopped any feeling apart from the pins and needles that flooded down that arm. The whole of my body was a myriad of pain, but they were nothing in comparison to what would come this night.
Breathless, and trying to keep pace with him, my heart fluttered wildly in my chest at the sight of the empty metal frame on the large stage. No, no, nooooo. The screams never left my lips, but silent tears fell down my cheeks, unchecked.
Not this!
The large, metal frame erected in the middle of the stage held four cuffs, one in each corner. The top section had a restraint that imprisoned the occupant by the neck and forehead using leather straps. Hanging from the restraint at the top was a gag. When buckled in place, it contained a penis attachment that was rammed down the throat. It was waiting for its victim—me.
There was no metal in the middle section, nothing to lie against. The victim hung by the head, throat and arms to allow the Dom free access to the whole body.
Relentless chanting started up in my head. No, no, not this, please. It continued as I was spreadeagled and my head was restrained. The monster hummed in what sounded like pleasure, causing my skin to slick with a cold sweat. Dark, menacing eyes glinted as the penis was jammed between my dry lips. The taste of another sub’s blood coated my tongue, as what little saliva I had wet the penis. I gagged, my stomach trying to bring back the meagre meal I’d been given earlier in the night. Acid burned my throat as I worked hard to swallow the nausea, knowing the monster wouldn’t stop even if I vomited. This was all part of the game to them.
Naked and stretched out for everyone to see, I kept my eyes on the back wall, on Immy. Immy’s gaze held mine as if he was willing me to hold on, but I wasn’t sure if I had the strength anymore, whether I had the will to continue to fight. What was I fighting for? To endure more torture.
There were words, but I didn’t know what they were. All I could hear was the sound of my own pulse. It deafened me as razor-sharp clamps were positioned along the length of my cock. The pain I’d once loved, that had once brought me such pleasure, was lost beneath the man’s lack of care. He worked his way up my body until my mind became sluggish from lack of oxygen. I had no idea how long it was before he was finally satisfied and stepped back to look at his handiwork.
There were loud calls from other Dom’s, but I heard none of what they were saying, not when I was faced with the maniacal grin of the Dom who had picked up the cat-o-nine-tails. The silver-tipped ends glinted in the light. I was terrified by what the silver meant, the clamps pinching my flesh no longer my sole focus. I tried to swallow around the bloody mass in my mouth, no longer sure whether the blood I could taste was some other subs, or mine.
The crowd went silent, leaving only the sound of the cat-o-nine-tails as it whipped through the air and struck my buttocks. The leather collar around my throat tightened as I mewled, saliva dripping off my chin as I attempted to escape the next blow, and the next. Sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging and blinding me, but it barely registered past the layer of unspeakable pain as the flesh was torn from my body. With whatever sanity I had left, I strained my neck forward and prayed for darkness. If there’s a God, take me. I pushed hard enough to lodge the penis in the back of my throat, hoping that this time I could do what these monsters didn’t want and end this. Please let this be this time I don’t wake from the darkness.
The world around me disappeared, the buzzing inside my mind turning to white noise, and then blessed silence as the blackness descended.
Gabriel
I steeled myself to walk back into the club, acknowledging several of the men as I passed them on the way to Riley’s office. Vic, the Dom who I’d come to loathe, stood in my path as I reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Where ya think you’re goin’?” His ugly face morphed into a threatening scowl.
Don’t hit him, don’t do it.
I gave him a toothy grin that Phil would have recognised as my ‘fuck you, arsehole’ special. “Riley wants to see me.” I sidestepped him, making sure not to touch him. He stank of stale body odour and cheesy cock. The unclean scent suggested he’d had lots of sex and hadn’t bothered to wash afterwards. I kept my shudder under control as his stench followed me up the stairs.
When he didn’t give chase, I released my breath as I reached the top of the flight of stairs. I didn’t hang around, knocking on the door in front of me. A second later, Riley called “yeah” and I walked into his office.
Much like the man, the room was scruffy, the place needing a freshen-up. It looked like it hadn’t seen a paintbrush in decades.
“Ah Gabe, have a seat.” The cunning smile did nothing to stop the low-level nerves humming inside me.
The old, leather seat creaked as I sat and placed an ankle on my other knee, sitting back and giving off a casual vibe. “Yo, what’s up Riley?”
“Your bank details have all been confirmed and the first payment was received this morning.”
His smile remained in place even as my stomach sank. “This other part of the club better be fucking worth it.”
A calculating gleam shone in his eyes as he sat forward to rest his elbows on his messy desk. “As I’ve said before, members are invite only. It’s exclusive and for that you get to enjoy a totally different experience.”
Working to show excitement, my grin turned sly. “What do you class as a different experience?” On my application, I’d added several things to my usual preferences as a Dom. They believed I loved hardcore k
ink, with no boundaries including blood play.
The laugh Riley released caused a shiver to run over my skin. “Anything and everything you’ve ever wanted, is what’s down there.”
I sat back, tapping on my bottom lip. “You gonna keep teasing me, or are you going to show me?” Phil had messaged this morning to say the money had been requested and that he’d sent payment. Therefore, the text message from Riley had been expected. Although, a part of me had hoped for a little more time to prepare.
My heart thudded against my ribs as Riley rose from his seat. “Come on then. I love an eager beaver. There’s no time like the present to introduce you to nirvana.”
I watched as Riley accessed the door with his thumbprint. He explained that they’d get mine coded and I’d be given an access code in case there were issues with the biometric lock. It was said with a casualness that turned my stomach.
The smell was the first thing that hit me as the door opened to reveal a steep set of wooden stairs. The smell only increased as we entered a darkened cellar. I tried not to inhale too deeply as Riley slung his arm across my shoulders.
I didn’t look at him; I couldn’t. My gaze was riveted to the centre stage, and to the redhead whose head had fallen forward as the collar was removed from his neck. My heart beat fast and furious against my ribs as I strained to see if I could make out the face of the sub, his hair shrouding it.
It wasn’t him…
The thought disappeared as it registered that the sub hadn’t moved a muscle. Was his chest moving? My view was blocked by the back of a Dom I hadn’t noticed walking off the stage. The guy indicated to Dane, one of the Dungeon Dom’s, who scuttled onto the stage to again block my view.
The stench grew stronger as Riley used my shoulder to steer me further into hell. The man on the stage was forgotten as I was faced with the unexpected wall art.