What do I do? I’m a private detective. On the job now two
years, I spend most nights casing seedy
motels here in the suburbs of Chicago,
waiting to catch heavy bellied business men with greasy hair and fingers fucking
prostitutes on filthy beds, the husbands of my clients who are mostly neglected
and desperate women. I don’t know why these women come here when a male
detective could not only nail their unruly husbands but give them what they
really need…which, since you ask, is to be smashed over the desk and fucked
till they cant see. But like I said, they’re not likely to get that here, I’m a
short blonde with big tits and an ass so big and round it has it’s own
gravitational pull…

A man knocks once on my door then walks in. He’s about 50
and tall, very tall with broad shoulders, big arms, a round paunch and hard
eyes. “You Astin?” his eyes run up my legs which are flung up on the desk, they
linger on my tits but his look is cold, appraising, no trace of the desire that’s
usually apparent. I’m slightly unnerved. His eyes are unflinching and under his
gaze I can feel my nipples starting to strain against the rough fabric of my
red suit.

I light a cigarette and exhale deeply and slowly so that
when I speak my voice will sound calm. His eyes are still boring into me and my
cunt is getting damp. Who is this? I
pull myself together, “yeah, I’m detective Astin.?” The man looks at me for a
moment longer then sits down opposite me. He tells me that he makes adult
movies, the kind you cant buy at your friendly adult video shop. He tells me
his “company” recruits prostitutes, seduces them with promises of more money
and nice apartments and the tricks they’ll turn on camera wont be half as
unpleasant as the shit they get up to in the back of their customers Hondas.
That’s what Bukowski and his associates tell
the skirts. In reality most of them are kept in chains and virtually tortured,
Bukowski doesn’t go into detail but I get the gist. I remember his cold hard
eyes on me and imagine that detached appraising eye wandering over the
twitching and pained bodies of the poor cunts chained in a basement
somewhere, it makes my insides icy and I
think that if it was me I’d rather be whipped raw then tied down, prone and
vulnerable under his cruel gaze. I realize I’ve let my thoughts run away with
me and Bukowski knows it. He’s just watching me now, after several more moments
he stands up, throws a file down on my desk, says, “that woman was my…associate.
A couple of weeks ago she stole a handful of whores and all my male actors and
set up on her own somewhere. I want them back. She knows all of my usual men so
I haven’t been able to shadow her. You find her. He threw a clip of money
beside the file, I didn’t have to look to know it was more cash than I’d seen
in six months. What can I say, I need the dough. I’ll take the case I decide, I’m
about to tell him so but then I realize he’s already left.

The woman I’m looking for is Ethelreda Hooper. It doesn’t take
me long to find her, the file contains a list of some of her frequent haunts
and I find her the third place I check, she’s just coming out of a bar in the
middle of Chicago, the place looks rich but it’s in a shit neighbourhood.
Ethelreda’s hard to miss. She’s wearing shades and red lipstick that’s slightly
smeared. Her body is gorgeous for a woman whose file tells me she’s pushing 45.
Her legs are long and sheathed in skintight black denim. Her breasts aren’t big
like mine, but at her age that’s probably a good thing, it means they haven’t sagged
too bad. Her hair is dark red, almost brunette and falls nearly to the back of
her thighs. I’m sitting in my car and watching her from across the street, she
gets into a black Jaguar and speeds off. I follow her. If she knows she’s being
followed she doesn’t make any attempt to shake me. I follow her into the
suburbs to one of those dirty derelict neighbourhoods that have no particularly
distinguishing features. She pulls up to a small bungalow with shuttered
windows, and goes right in without looking around her. I keep my distance for
awhile. Then I think, this is the most interesting case I’ve had so far and I’m
tired of spending all my time parked in hedges, seeing fuck all with my
binoculars. I’m somehow captivated by this woman Ethelreda. I think about her
and Mr. Bukowski together, if anyone could be unfazed by his cold stare it
would be this strange and exotic red head. I HAVE to know what’s going on in
there. What is this woman doing, what or who does she keep in this shithole?

I cut through the neighbours yard and then somehow manage to
force myself tits and all through a small gap in the back fence, into Ethelreda’s
yard. The back windows are all shuttered as well but there is a small barred
window into the basement that I can see through if I lay flat, my huge tits are
squashed up under my chin and the ground is cement and rough, the window is
small and at first I cant see anything but then somewhere inside a fire is lit
and it casts a dim glow into the room. There are people in there. Three girls.
Two of them have been stripped naked and lashed face to face, their hands bound
together and then suspended from a beam in the ceiling. The third girl, a small
Latina has been
nailed to a low platform on the floor, she’s spread eagled with what looks like
a small railroad spike going through each of her wrists, her legs spread wide
and her feet secured to either edge of the platform. She is bleeding copiously
and looks unconscious. I’m not prepared for this, I roll over and retch but
before I can get up and run a man enters, I cant see his face clearly in the
dim light but he is tall slim. Darkish, Italian maybe. He stands over the Latina and slaps her
lightly several times until she comes to and makes soft whimpering noises. He
forces a ball gag into her mouth and then reaches to a shelf behind her and
retrieves a ten inch black rubber dildo punctuated with small jagged metal
studs. In one deft motion he forces it inside of her, he thrusts it roughly in
and out of her several times but she soon passes out again from the pain and he
seems to be losing interest in her. He jerks out the dildo and I almost retch
again thinking of those jagged metal shards digging bloody furrows down the
inside wall of my cunt. I need to leave and soon. But I’m frozen, transfixed.
The Italian moves over to the two girls lashed together, they look young, too
young. Sixteen, maybe. And they’ve been drugged by the looks of it because
though they’re awake their heads are lolling and they barely flinched at the
almost inhuman sounding cries that the Latina
had been making through her gag. The Italian rounds on the girls, he’s produced
the most massive whip I’ve ever seen,
the base of it is easily four feet long and it’s thicker than my forearm then
it splits into a dozen long straps heavily weighted. A whip like that can strip
skin to the bone if it’s used correctly and I was certain the Italian would
prove to be an expert. The first lash lands on the younger looking of the two
girl’s shoulders and causes her to shudder deeply and though blood instantly
begins to ooze from the several deep slices the whip has made, she is heavily
sedated still and she doesn’t scream. The next stroke is to her ass and this
one causes her to writhe and grind her little cunt against that of the other
girl. Another powerful blow to the ass and the girl seems to be fully returned
to her senses and the incredible pain she’s in. She begins to scream and with a
look of grim satisfaction the Italian begins whipping both girls at once, the
older girl wakes up and starts screaming as well as blow after blow is
viciously landed to their sides, inflicting deep gashes on their hips, I force
my fist into my mouth to keep from crying out myself as some of the lashes send
a tongue of black leather between the girl’s ass cheeks and onto their pussies,
the younger of whose I can see has started to bleed. I’m so engrossed and
appalled by this that I don’t here the steps behind me, suddenly I’m aware that
I’m not alone, I turn up my head from my prone position on the ground and find
to my horror that Ethelreda is standing over me, my eyes briefly linger on her
cunt, which I can see because she’s wearing a scrap of a dress and no underwear,
it’s not the pussy of a 45 year old. Her cunt lips are damp, deeply pink, and
prominent, but not at all frayed in that way that frequently happens to the
owner of a full blown rose like Ethelreda’s. I’m just staring up at her
stupidly from the ground, speechless, appalled, scared shitless and faintly
curious. Ethelreda doesn’t say anything at first she just stares at me, then
she murmers in a voice heavy with a Russian accent, she leans down and
contemplatively grabs my ass, “my, my, ees lucky daye for me, eh? I am going to
have fun with you, my preety leetle detective” In the second before she knocks
me unconscious with the club she was holding behind her back, two things dawn
on me, Bukowski told me Ethelreda stole his women to make hardcore videos but
there hadn’t been any cameras just now in the basement, and Ethelreda knew I
was a detective. Fuck.

What will become of our heroin? Will she escape this den of
iniquity or will she become another one of Ethelreda’s puppets? Continued pending
on reviews.