The Case of the Alabaster Ass – Part 3
A Dan Diamond Mystery by j.
Trudy pinched the head of my penis again.
Hard.
What was it with this dame? The head of my dick was covered with red marks where her long fingernails had dug into it, and I couldn’t even figure out why the broad was mad at me. She may have been mean as hell, but this had to go beyond plain old nastiness. For some reason, Gertrude Nguyen had it in for me.
She had me hung up to dry in the warehouse where Dundeen’s illusions were stored, and I was pretty sure that I wasn’t dreaming the whole thing this time. My penis wasn’t painted with red and white stripes, like it was in that bizarre nightmare brought on by whatever was in the syringe she carried around in her little Gucci bag, but it was erect and hurting from all those pinches.
Dundeen himself was hanging next to me, stripped just as bare as I was, but he showed no signs of an erection. His dick had shriveled to the size of a peanut, so I assumed that he didn’t have the same reaction to B&D games as yours truly. I would have asked him about it, but neither one of us was saying much. The red rubber ball that Trudy had gagged me with earlier was crammed into Dundeen’s mouth, and she had found an even meaner gag for me, a metal contraption that sprang open once it was inside, leaving my mouth spread in a wide “O” so that I couldn’t speak but sported another orifice for anyone who wanted to use it.
I knew by now that I was in this mess not because Nicky Balls was out to get me but because Trudy was. I knew that because Nicky told me so. I’d asked him. Even as I was staring into the barrel of that automatic when he nabbed Dundeen and me again after our brief escape, I had to know what was going down.
“I don’t get it, Nicky,” I said. “You told me back in Santa Barbara that you didn’t blame me for Joey getting iced, but now I understand you want my head chopped off. Is it Joey or are you just pissed about that deal with the Van Meters getting queered?
I didn’t have a lot to do with that, you know.”
Nicky smiled and shook his head as though he were amazed that anyone could think he was carrying a grudge.
“No, Diamond,” he said, “I don’t really blame you. I figure you might even have done me a couple of favors. Sometimes, a few less partners can mean a lot more dollars. No, this bit now is just a little courtesy for Miss Nguyen. She wanted me to deliver you all wrapped up with a pretty bow, so that’s what I did.”
“Now I am confused, Nicky,” I told him. “I never met that lady before she came walking down those basement stairs with you. What in the hell is she mad about?”
“You’ll have to ask her,” he said. “I’m not really sure myself.”
“So what was this story about putting me under that guillotine?” I asked.
“Just my way of testing Mr. Dundeen here,” he said. “I needed to know if he’d do anything I asked him to, and I guess I got my answer, didn’t I?
Dundeen turned a couple of shades whiter when he heard that. I felt sorry for him, especially because he was now in deep shit because he had tried to save my ass. He’d have to be a master magician for sure to get us out of this.
When a couple of Nicky’s boys came to get us at Mack’s Place, they took us straight back to the warehouse. We went out the back door of the bar, and I wondered whether those three chicks were still sitting at their table in front, waiting to see if I’d reappear again in nothing but a tiny skirt that left everything hanging out. Wearing something like that always makes you feel more naked than if you’re completely bare, which Trudy must have known, because when she strung us up at the warehouse, she had the thugs strip Dundeen but she left the skirt on me.
Aside from those pinches on the penis, she didn’t do anything to me once I was hanging there, arms stretched above my head and toes stretched down to reach the floor.
She told Nicky’s guys to keep an eye on us while she went back to her hotel for a while.
“When you coming back?” one of them asked.
“Not until after 10 o’clock,” she told him. “The House of Pain doesn’t open until 11.”
The House of Pain? Jesus! That sounded like a B&D joint to me. I didn’t know Vegas even had a bondage club, so maybe it was one of those private outfits. The last time I was in town, I’d gotten off the I-15 at a different exit than I usually did, and I discovered that there were all sorts of “gentleman’s clubs” and less glitzy topless bars and even a couple of message parlors crammed into the few blocks between the Interstate and The Strip in the area near the Mirage and that big fancy shopping center. None of them had looked like B&D places, though.
The House of Pain — whatever it was — was probably in a more remote neighborhood instead of a few blocks away from where Siegfried and Roy’s tigers and lions and dolphins had their home. Dolphins in the desert! Only in Vegas, pal. Next to that, a bondage club didn’t seem all that unusual.
While we were waiting for Trudy to return, Dundeen and I hung out together. After a couple of hours, my feet were resting more comfortably on the floor. Son of a bitch, I thought, I must be stretching. Maybe I’d get a couple of inches taller and have a little edge when my buddies and I got together for pickup hoops on Sunday afternoons back in L.A.
Long before she got back, I was getting desperate to take a pee. I guess Dundeen got more than desperate, because I heard a stream hitting the floor and looked sideways to see him standing there in a spreading puddle. The two guys who were keeping an eye on us had been playing cards at a table across the room, and they thought Dundeen urinating on himself was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.
“Think we ought to get him down and make him clean it up?” one of them asked.
“Naw, that’s liable to piss off that Chinese cunt,” the other said. “He can stand in it until she gets here.”
“I don’t think she’s Chinese,” the first one said. “She’s, like, a Vietnam chick.”
“Whatever,” the other guy said. “It’s your deal.”
Trudy showed up about fifteen minutes later, along with a couple of other women. One of them was a big blonde in a black leather jumpsuit. She looked like a masseuse — not a massage-parlor girl but one of those brawny Scandinavian babes who twist you and bend you and pound the hell out of you in a “real” massage, the legit kind. Those sessions always seemed to me to be more like S&M than most S&M itself.
The other, much smaller girl was a blonde, too, but you couldn’t tell that at first glance because her whole head was covered by a black leather hood. If you checked out her pubic hair, though, you could see that she was a natural blonde. And you couldn’t help but see that blond bush, because other than the hood, she wasn’t wearing anything at all. She wasn’t in bondage except for a leash attached to a metal ring on the neck of the hood, but she followed along obediently behind the bigger babe, who was holding the other end of the leash.
The lovely Ms. Nguyen had on a skimpy black halter top from which her round breasts escaped on all sides. There was a long expanse of bare midriff below that, stretching down to a pair of vinyl pants cut low enough at the waist to leave her belly button and the cute little belly itself exposed all the way down to — Well, let’s just say that if those pants were cut any lower, we might have known the truth about that old myth about Oriental women.
The pants were also so tight that I couldn’t imagine how she got into them. Maybe they had been sprayed on. As I stared at them, I realized there was a long, tube-shaped lump running down one thigh under the vinyl. Oh, shit, I thought, Gertie has a dildo strapped on. That piece of hard rubber was probably going to wind up in someone’s behind that evening, and I hoped it wasn’t mine.
She ordered the two hoods to untie me. When my arms were released, they were so stiff and weak from being stretched for so long that I couldn’t have struggled if I had wanted to. I wouldn’t have had a chance against those Neanderthals anyway, and in a few minutes, they had my arms secured again, bent back behind me and strapped tightly together. Trudy produced a long, thin black cord and knotted one end around the base of my balls. She tugged on it experimentally, and I stepped forward immediately. It was that or lose the family jewels, and I had gotten used to having them hanging down there.
“What do you want us to do with the other guy?” one of the hoods asked.
“I really don’t care,” Trudy said. “He can hang there until Nicky decides what to do with him.”
“He’s standing in pee,” the big blonde said.
“That’s his problem, isn’t it?” Trudy said.
“Maybe this guy needs to tinkle, too,” the blonde said. “We better have him do it before we put him in the car.”
“If you think that’s such a big deal, you can take him to the john yourself,” Trudy said, handing the other woman the end of the cord she was holding.
The blonde led me out of the room and down a corridor to a small bathroom. The woman in the hood came along, too, both of us being led by our respective leashes. We crowded into the little room, and I stood in front of the toilet. With my arms fastened behind my back, I couldn’t point my penis, so the blonde took it in one hand and aimed it in the right direction. It was already semi-erect, and it promptly hardened in her fingers.
I had no idea how I was going to be able to pee with a hard-on and some babe holding my dick. I could see the smaller woman’s eyes staring at me through the holes in her hood. They were open wide and frightened-looking, but I had no idea whether she was scared because of her own situation or whether she was astonished by the size of my erection. Looking at it honestly, I suppose it wasn’t my penis.
We stood there a while. I thought nothing was going to happen, but I had to pee real bad, and a strong stream suddenly came shooting out. The blonde hadn’t aimed very well, and the jet splashed on the underside of the raised seat for a moment until she redirected it into the bowl. When I was finally through, she shook my dick up and down a couple of times to get off any lingering drops, and then she led the two of us back down the hall. Well, Diamond, I told myself, if sexual humiliation turns you on, you must really be turned on right now, because you’ve just been humiliated big-time.
In any case, my penis was stiff and pointing straight out when we got back to where Trudy was waiting. Of course, she had to give it a pinch. Those pinches of hers usually made it even harder, but I think it was about at its limit by then.
The hooded woman and I were led out to where Trudy’s SUV was parked behind the warehouse. They deposited us on the floor in the back of the vehicle, where we sprawled in a tangle of naked flesh. Trudy and the big blonde got into the front seat.
“Did you let the club know that I was coming, Randy?” Trudy asked.
“Just like you told me to,” the woman answered.
Randy? That sounded like a good name for someone who was into oddball sex. Or maybe it was just a good description of her sexual appetite. I know that she took a nice, firm grip on my dick when she was helping me relieve myself. I was even hoping a little that Randy would decide to take me to the bathroom again. About ten years back, I had wound up in the hospital with both hands bandaged because of burns, and the nurses had to insert my penis into the plastic urinal bottle when I took a pee. I almost enjoyed the stay.
I didn’t know what part of town the warehouse was in, but from what I could see of the skyline from the rear of the SUV, it seemed as if we were going toward The Strip, not to a remote area. Maybe the House of Pain was actually in one of the casinos. Hell, if Caesar’s could build an amphitheatre for Celine Dion, one of the other joints might be looking for an even better way to torture its patrons. We skirted The Strip, though, and headed for the other side of town. At one point, I saw the colorful top of the Rio as we went past five or six blocks away. The lights fell behind us. It looked as if we were going toward the mountains.
We drove for about twenty minutes before we stopped in the gravel parking lot of a long, low building that looked as if it had been built for some kind of small-scale manufacturing or maybe as a warehouse. It reminded me of some of the dance halls and strip clubs you found on the fringes of the industrial suburbs of Midwest cities. There were no other buildings around this one, though. It was all by its lonesome, out in the boonies, with the glow of The Strip in the distance in one direction and the dark bulk of the mountains looming against the night sky in the other.
A couple of dozen cars were parked in the lot. Trudy had stopped next to the entrance, in a spot with a “RESERVED” sign next to it on the wall of the building. Randy got the two of us out of the back of the SUV while Trudy watched impatiently. When we were standing outside the car, stepping gingerly on the gravel of the lot, she turned and walked quickly into the club, and Randy led us after her.
There was a big guy in a tux just inside the door, and when we came in, he was carefully checking the ID of some balding, overweight joker who was stuffed into a black-leather outfit that he must have bought in his slimmer days. The doorman waved us on into the club.
“It’s very nice to see you again, Miss Nguyen,” he said. “I hope that you and your companions enjoy yourselves.”
Trudy didn’t bother to answer. She stalked across the dance floor, headed toward the bar on the far side of the large room. The club looked a lot like any other big nightclub — a dance floor, a horseshoe-shaped bar with stools along part of it, a bunch of tables scattered around on the edges and a small stage at one end.
Most of the customers didn’t seem that much different either, just your typical club crowd, some casual, some dressed up a little more. There were a few couples who looked to be in their thirties or forties sitting together at two tables near the door, folks in expensive suits and understated little dresses, probably curious straights who were out slumming to see the freaks in action. Elsewhere in the room, there were a lot of broads in black leather, skimpy tops, bare midriffs and almost non-existent skirts, but since it’s fashionable these days to dress like a hooker, they didn’t look much out of place.
But you could also see a good number of people dressed like yours truly and Miss Hooded Chick sprinkled through the crowd. Most of them hadn’t been stripped as bare as we were, but none was wearing much more than a G-string and a leather collar or wrist and ankle cuffs. Nipple rings looked as if they were big items, and one poor guy was so covered with clothespins that he resembled some kind of porcupine. The clothespins were those miserable plastic ones, too, in a variety of bright colors. He looked real festive.
Randy followed Trudy across the dance floor. Miss Hooded Chick and I followed Randy, towed along by the leash fastened to her hood and the cord tied to my balls. When we reached the bar, Trudy was already talking with a tall, somewhat older lady who was dressed as though she’d just come from a corporate board meeting. I thought immediately of Mrs. Stern, but where Mrs. S. projected the image of a very demanding but level-headed mistress, this broad had the nasty gleam in her eye of someone who got a real kick out of taking other people way beyond their limits.
“Ah, you’ve brought us a couple of pieces of new meat,” she said to Trudy.
“No, that’s just Natalie under the hood,” Trudy replied. “She’s been here several times before. The other one is new, though. I want to find something very special for him.”
“I think we can manage to do that,” the woman said.
She stepped closer to us and took my erection in her fingers, squeezing it and tugging on it. Her hand dropped to my balls, pulled into a tight, red package by the encircling cord.
“He seems to be ready for us,” she said. “What about little Miss Natalie?”
Her hand moved from my genitals to between Miss Hooded Chick’s legs. To between Natalie’s legs, I guess I should say. Her fingers probed there, and Natalie’s hips began to move in response to the in-and-out motion of the hand. The woman withdrew her fingers and inspected the glistening moisture on them.
“Very wet,” she said. “You can clean them for me, slave.”
She reached up and stuck her fingers into my mouth, held open wide by that bizarre metal gag. I licked them, tasting Natalie’s juices.
“Yes, we’ll find something very challenging for you, little boy,” the woman said. “You and Natalie can stand here and watch the show for a while, and we’ll have both of you up there before you know it.”
I could hardly wait.
The woman walked away from us and toward the stage. A couple of other dommes, one black, one white, were leading the guy who was covered with clothespins onto the little platform. Someone at the rear of the stage lowered chains from the ceiling. Large metal rings were attached to their ends, and the women fastened the subbie’s wrist cuffs to the rings. The man’s arms were drawn up until he was on his toes, and then the two women stretched him even more by spreading his legs and clipping his ankle cuffs to rings set into the floor of the stage.
When his leather thong was stripped away, a large, semi-erect penis flopped out. His cock and balls were bare, free of metal rings or cords, but his two tormentors began correcting that by transferring clothespins from his thighs and body to his genitals. In a few minutes, his rising erection and his balls were so covered with the pinching pins that you couldn’t see much except the cluster of brightly colored plastic.
The women stepped back for a moment so that everyone had a good view of the man hanging there with clothespins dotting his naked body and the huge wad of them covering his genitals. Then they picked up riding crops from the floor of the stage, and the white chick went behind him and began smacking his bare buttocks. The black babe waited a minute longer before she began whacking the clothespins off with her crop.
Miss D. had done the same thing to me more than a few times, but those were wooden clothespins that came off much more easily than the hard-pinching plastic kind. Besides, this guy was wearing a lot more of them, and I couldn’t imagine how it was going to feel when the domme began swinging away at the ones on his cock and balls.
She saved those for last, and when she began hitting the clothespins between his outstretched legs, they clacked loudly but stayed put during the first few hard strokes. The guy had a ball gag stuffed into his mouth, but you could hear his muffled yells, even over the noise of the resounding swats that the other domme continued to lay onto his bottom.
Finally, the pins began to pop off, and the black domme kept after them until only one remained, hanging down from his balls. She drew back the crop, swung hard and the clothespin burst off and flew across the stage. The woman turned and bowed to the crowd with her arms spread wide, and there was loud and long applause. When they took the poor sub down, he could hardly walk as they led him off the stage, but he still had his erection.
A female slave was up next, and a hefty guy in a black mask and shiny black pants bent her over a spanking bench for a long, loud paddling with one of the largest paddles I’d ever seen. Its business end was big and round, and it looked as if she was being spanked with a leather-covered tennis racquet. The effect of the whole thing was spoiled a little because the paddler didn’t wear a shirt and his protruding belly bounced around alarmingly every time he took a swing. He made me think of “The Night Before Christmas,” with Santa Claus’ beer gut jiggling like a bowl full of jelly.
I didn’t pay much attention to the spanking, though, because Trudy had moved behind me and was probing the rim of my anus with one of her long-nailed fingers. I looked back over my shoulder into her impassive face. I was used to dommes who laughed or pretended to be angry or at least allowed themselves a little smirk at their victim’s discomfort, but Trudy was absolutely expressionless. The finger pushed harder, and I rose up onto my toes in an attempt to escape the invasion.
“If you don’t like that, Diamond,” she hissed into my ear, “wait and see what I’m going to stick up there when I get you on that stage.”
That’s what I’d been worrying about ever since I saw that dildo-like bulge in her tight trousers. I felt a chill, like my body was being dipped into a tank of icy water, but my face was burning. My Mom was right. If I got out of this mess, I was going to switch to a nice quiet job selling life insurance or used cars.
Now the girl’s lengthy paddling was over, and she was being led off the stage. Her bottom was bright red and it looked huge and swollen. She was sobbing loudly, but the pudgy guy who had been spanking her had a big grin on his face as he strutted along behind her. If he had realized what he really looked like without a shirt, he wouldn’t have been so pleased with himself.
I waited to see who’d be next, and then I felt a hard tug on the cord around my balls and realized that the next attraction was going to be me. Trudy led me across the dance floor and up onto the stage. My erection was stiff now, and when she spun me around to face the crowd, my dick bobbed up and down like it was waving hello. There was applause from some of the people when they recognized Trudy. I guess she had given them some good shows in the past.
I thought I’d be tied over the spanking bench immediately, but Trudy looked back to where Randy and Natalie were standing by the bar and motioned to them with one long, curving finger. Randy started for the stage, jerking on the leash so that the smaller woman was pulled forward by the ring at her neck and almost stumbled before staggering after her captor. Trudy held up one hand to stop them.
“On her hands and knees,” she demanded.
Natalie didn’t wait for Randy to order her onto the floor. She immediately dropped to all fours and knelt there obediently with her hooded head hanging. The woman who had greeted us at the bar earlier handed Randy a long wooden paddle, and the big blonde gave Natalie a hard swat across her protruding buttocks. She kept spanking her as the girl crawled across the floor as quickly as she could. Randy must have smacked her six or seven times, and the last one was a two-handed stroke that practically lifted the smaller woman onto the stage.
Natalie was quickly tied to the spanking bench, bent across it with her bottom up and her legs spread wide so that the round, puckered ring of her anus was staring back at the onlookers. I inched farther toward the front of the stage for a better view. Hell, I wanted to see this, too, if only to know what was in store for me later. Natalie’s sphincter looked as if it were breathing, pulsing in and out in anticipation of that dildo.
One of the men who had helped tie Natalie to the bench handed Randy a small jar of something that looked like Vaseline. She dipped her fingers into the jar, brought them out covered with the clear jelly and began to rub it around the ring of the helpless girl’s anus. When she was satisfied that the hole was well-greased, she stepped aside and looked expectantly at Trudy. It was Ms. Nguyen’s big moment. She stepped to the front of the stage, stuck her thumbs into the waistband of her tight pants and jerked them down past her hips.
Holy shit! I couldn’t believe my eyes. That bulge in Trudy’s pants wasn’t a dildo. Gertrude Nguyen had a dick!!!
Amazingly, my first reaction was to wonder where in the hell Trudy’s great boobs came from. I guess she didn’t inherit them from her mother after all. Hormone injections and silicone had to be the answer. Whatever it was, I was absolutely astonished. If my mouth hadn’t already been stretched by that gag, my mouth would have fallen open.
Trudy must have seen the look on my face, because she — he, she, whatever –stepped closer to me and hissed at me in a low voice meant for my ears only.
“What do you think of that, Diamond?” she spat out. “How does it compare to that tiny little thing that your friend Daisy calls a cock?
“You know, you need to be a lot more careful about who you go to work for,” she continued. “Even an asshole like you should know better than to get involved with a cunt like that. Sending you after me to get that miserable statue of hers back! What a nerve! I’m going to send both you and that fucking white donkey back to her in little pieces.”
Aha! This was one of those Dan Diamond moments. The moment when the cement-skulled shamus realizes what has been going on all along. The moment when he “solves” the case just by getting his ass in a sling. But this had to be the low point of a not very spectacular career. I’d manged to get myself in the middle of a pissing match between a couple of drag queens!
Trudy abruptly turned her back on me and stepped back toward Natalie’s waiting bottom. Randy picked up the cord fastened to my balls and led me to the back of the stage. When I faced the front again, I saw that the spanking bench was on wheels and the two male helpers were turning it so that the audience had a side view of the girl stretched over the bench and of Trudy’s dick approaching the quivering anus. Trudy raised her erection with one hand, pressed it against the hole and shoved it in with one thrust of her hips.
She fucked Natalie hard, ramming into the girl with all her force. (I know it sounds stupid to keep referring to Trudy as “she,” but I’m not sure that “he” is any better.) She went at it for four or five minutes before pausing. She pulled out just long enough to step back and let Randy swat Natalie’s butt a couple of times with the wooden paddle before she plunged back into the girl and resumed her assault. In a few minutes, that would be me tied over the bench, I thought. Then I sensed someone behind me in the darkness at the rear of the stage.
“Close your eyes, Dan, and keep them shut tight,” someone whispered.
The voice sounded like Dundeen! I quickly closed my eyes. Even through the lowered lids, I could see the bright flash of light that filled the room. When I opened my eyes, everyone around me had their hands to their faces, stumbling around blindly. Trudy had stepped back and fallen off the stage, and she was sprawled on the floor on her butt, her eyes and mouth open wide in shock and her Vaseline-covered dick still pointing at the ceiling.
Dundeen grabbed me by one arm and led me down some steps at the back of the stage. He hurried me toward a fire door halfway down the rear wall, and when we pushed through it, we were in the parking lot behind the building. Dundeen quickly unfastened the straps binding my arms behind me and went to work releasing the spring on that metal gag. When he got it off, it was difficult to get my jaw functioning again after my mouth had been spread for so long, but I was still trying to ask Dundeen for an explanation of his sudden appearance.
“That can wait,” he said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
He led me across the lot to his car, and then we did get the hell out of there. It seemed like a good idea to me, too. As we sped back across the desert toward the lights of The Strip, Dundeen turned to me and grinned.
“Pretty good trick, huh?” he said.
“One of your best,” I agreed.
“Just an electronic flash pot,” he said, “but I had it pointed full into Trudy’s face.”
“What I want to know,” I said, “is how you pulled a Houdini act back at that warehouse. I didn’t know you were an escape artist, too.”
“I’m not,”he said with a smile. “I had to sell my soul to the devil. You know, just like Robert Johnson at the crossroads.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to believe that,” I said.
“Well, maybe not the devil himself,” he admitted, “but Nicky Balls is a pretty good substitute.”
“I thought you were No. 1 on Nicky’s shit list,” I replied.
“Not any more,” he said. “Not after I let him in on the truth about our friend Gertrude.”
“He had to know about that already, didn’t he?” I asked. “Hell, she was his girlfriend! Which means Nicky must be a little kinky himself, by the way.”
“Trudy was just his cover,” Dundeen said. “His beard. Nicky likes boys, Dan, but he didn’t want his wiseguy associates to know that. They’re not very accepting of that lifestyle. So he used Trudy to make it look like he was one of the guys, just another swinging dick.”
“But if the word got around that Trudy had a penis, he would have really been in deep shit, wouldn’t he?” I asked.
“That’s why she didn’t tell him,” Dundeen said.
“Wow!” I said. “I bet he was pissed off when he found out.”
“You could say that,” Dundeen agreed. “I think Miss Nguyen had better start looking for the quickest flight to South America — or maybe Outer Mongolia.”
We drove along for five minutes or so while I digested all this.
“By the way,” Dundeen said, “take a look in the back seat.”
It was dark in the back, but I could make out the shape of a small white statue sitting on the seat. It looked like a horse, maybe a donkey. Or an ass?
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
“Yes, it is,” Dundeen said. “Spanky stole it for Trudy, who wanted it just to get back at Daisy. Trudy gave it to Nicky, and Nicky gave it to me as an added bonus. We’re quits now as long as I keep my mouth shut about Trudy.”
“You’re pretty amazing, Dundeen,” I said. “What I want to know is how you knew all this about Gertrude’s dick and Nicky’s sexual habits.”
“Dundeen sees all and knows all,” he said with a growing smile.
“What in hell does that mean?” I said.
“Don’t ask,” he answered. “Just don’t ask.”
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