The Case of the Spectacled Band – Part 3 – A Dan Diamond BDSM Mystery

The Case of the Spectacled Band – Part 3
A Dan Diamond mystery by j.

Mandy’s eyes bulged as if she’d just seen King Kong lumbering toward her through the jungle night. From the frantic noises she was making, it sounded like she was trying to tell us something, but the red rubber ball that was crammed into her mouth turned her words into a garble.

She seemed upset by what Miss D. was holding up in front of her – a cone-shaped piece of hard rubber with a narrow stem below its wide end and a broad flat base below that. It wasn’t the largest butt plug I’d ever seen, but it probably looked pretty big to Mandy when she realized where it was going.

Mandy was on her knees on the examination table in the dungeon room at Miss D.’s place, with her arms fastened behind her back and her shoulders held firmly against the vinyl top by a couple of Miss D.’s ladies. That put her naked bottom high into the air, and if you stood behind her, you could see her anus glistening with the Vaseline that Miss D. had used to lubricate it before emptying the contents of one of her brightly colored enema bags into Mandy’s behind.

Miss D. moved behind the helpless girl and pressed the tip of the butt plug against the tight little hole. She pushed, and about half of the cone slid in easily. She pushed harder. The noises that Mandy was making grew more frantic and then ended in a loud grunt as most of the plug disappeared inside. All you could see was the wide base that kept the thing from slipping in completely.

Miss D. picked up a towel off a chair by the door and wiped off her hands. She walked over to the rack on the wall and stood there for a while, trying to make up her mind which of the paddles and whips hanging there she wanted to use. She finally chose a long wooden paddle with holes drilled in it, the kind that used to hang in the principal’s office before schools stopped spanking ornery students.

She turned back to the table and reached under Mandy’s doubled-over body to make sure that the clothes pins she had clipped onto the girl’s nipples were still in place. Mandy’s breasts were large and full, so they were squashed against the table top, but Miss D. was able to find the ends of the plastic clothes pins and tug on them, bringing more desperate squeaks through the gag.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom, dear?” she asked, running one hand over the curves of Mandy’s backside. You could almost make out the girl’s answer. It sounded as if she was saying please over and over. “We’re going to get your bottom nice and pink,” Miss D. told her, “and then you can take care of your little toilet problem.”

She swung the paddle back and brought it down hard across the girl’s shivering rump. The smack of wood against bare flesh echoed in the little room. Mandy screamed into her gag.

* * * * * * * * *
Mandy Andrews probably didn’t have that kind of scene in mind when she called me at my office the day before. It had been a day of phone calls. I made the first one early in the morning, dialing the local DEA office and asking to speak to Officer Thatcher. When Becky got on the line, she sounded as if she was glad to hear from me. I told her it was a business call and asked her to come over to the office so we could talk privately. She said she’d be there in an hour.

I intended to level with Becky about Freddy Abbott’s problems with Nicky Balls. I wanted to figure out some way we could nail Nicky without messing up Freddy’s life. It wasn’t an easy call. Even if the feds decided to forget about the little bit of dealing that Freddy had done under pressure from Balsemo, Abbott and the Costellos were likely to wind up as a target for some of Nicky’s pissed-off colleagues. And if you’re a band on the rise, with a promising future, it would be pretty tough to be sent off to Omaha or somewhere to start over again in the witness-protection program.

While I was waiting for Becky to arrive, the phone rang. I thought maybe she was calling to say she was delayed, but a man’s voice answered my hello.

“Hi, Dan,” he said. “It’s Charley Fitzwater.”

The voice sounded familiar, but I didn’t recognize the name.

“Sorry,” I said, “but for some reason, I can’t remember who you are.”

“It’s Dundeen,” he said with a chuckle. “Fitzwater is my real name, Dan. I thought you’d remember that.”

“Sorry again,” I said, “but it’s been a tough week. I’ve been having some problems with an old friend of yours.”

“My guess is that you’re talking about Nicky Balls,” he said.

“Right on target,” I answered. “You always did say that Dundeen knows all, tells all.”

“Nicky is the reason I’m calling,” he said. “I understand he’s been asking around about me. You have any idea why he wants to find me?”

“He says he wants to have a friendly talk,” I said, “but I think it’s because he’s worrying about how you found out about his sexual preferences.”

“I thought that was it,” Dundeen said. “Nicky gets very nervous when that topic comes up. I suspect he’s concerned about how I might share the information.”

“I think you got it,” I agreed.

“So how’s he causing trouble for you, Dan?” Dundeen asked.

I told him the whole story about Abbott and the Costellos, about how Nicky pressured Freddy Abbott into peddling coke and about how I’d asked Becky to come over and talk about it.

“She’s a bright girl,” he said. “Maybe the two of you can come up with something. In fact, maybe I can contribute a few ideas. I’d love to see Nicky put away.”

He said he’d call me up later that day or maybe next morning to see what we’d decided. I’d barely finished saying good-bye when there was a knock on my office door. I opened it, and in came Becky, holding up her arms for a hug. I was glad to see her, but I was a little worried about how she’d react to my problem. I wasn’t sure she’d want to give Freddy a free pass, even if he co-operated with us. She sat in my chair while I paced around the room and told her the whole story.

“Poor kid,” she said. “How did he ever get involved with that creep?”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” I said. “I’d like to keep the Costellos out of this thing if we can.”

“That’s okay with me, Dan,” she said, “but I don’t see how we’re going to be able to do it. If we want to nail Nicky for trying to distribute through Freddy, the band is obviously going to have to be involved in the investigation.”

We sat and pondered that for a while, but no bright ideas surfaced. She had another appointment back at her office, so she had to take off, but she promised to call later that afternoon. I asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner that evening.

“Business or pleasure?” she asked.

“Maybe a little of both, huh?” I said.

“It’s a date,” she said.

I was barely back in my chair after seeing her out when the phone rang again. A lot of days, I can sit around in my office for hours, engaging in a little harmless self-abuse, while I wait for a prospective client to call. Today, to use one of my grandpa’s favorite phrases, the calls were thicker than turds around a country schoolhouse.

“Hello, Mr. Diamond,” the voice on the other end said breathlessly, as if the caller couldn’t wait to talk with me. “It’s Amanda Andrews.”

“Hi, Mandy,” I said. “What can I do you for? I hope you’re not going to ask me to let one of your little playmates use my privates to play tunes on.”

“Oh, wasn’t that fun!” she squealed.

“Well, Mandy, if they’d been your balls, you might not have enjoyed it so much,” I said.

“But I don’t have balls, Mr. Diamond!” she said, sounding surprised I’d suggest the possibility.

“It was a figure of speech, kid,” I told her.

“Oh!” she said, still sounding puzzled.

“Never mind,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Actually,” she answered. “I’m kind of, like, calling about this B&D thing.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

She hesitated. “I don’t really know how to say this,” she replied.

“Give it a try,” I suggested.

“Well, it all looked really, really interesting,” she said. “And I was wondering how it would be if it was, like, happening to me.”

“In other words, you’d like to see how it feels to be a submissive,” I said.

“That’s right,” she said. “Does that sound awful?”

“Not at all,” I said. “In fact, if you’re serious, I know just the place to take you.”

* * * * * * * * *

That evening, Becky and I had a nice dinner at the Vermont and played around for a while afterward at my apartment on the edge of Koreatown. It was fun, but we didn’t make any progress on a plan for dealing with Nicky. We agreed to get together again the next evening and stick to business.

Amanda’s problem was easier to solve. After I’d talked with her, I had called Miss D. and asked if I could bring Mandy in the next day. She said that was fine with her, and I told her that she could charge the big bucks this time. The kid could afford it.

“This is one of the Andrews twins?” she asked. “Little Miss Rich Bitch?”

“That’s her,” I said.

“Oh, I think we can come up with something special for Miss Mandy,” she said.

“I don’t want to be too tough on her,” I warned. “It’s her first time, and she’s not that bad a kid. She’s just spoiled rotten.”

“Come on, Dan,” Miss D. said. “We want to give her an experience she’ll remember, don’t we?”

I said okay, but afterward I got to worrying about what she was planning for Mandy. Oh, well, I thought, I’ll be there to blow the whistle if things begin to get too rough.

Miss D. looked happy to see us when we arrived the next day. We went into her office, and she introduced Mandy to her feisty little dog and asked the kid to sit down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. She took the chair behind the desk and leaned across it toward her new customer.

“Dan tells me you’d like to learn about the games we play here,” she said.

“I guess,” Mandy said nervously. “I just want to see kind of, like, what it’s like. Like.”

“We can do that,” Miss D. said. “It’s probably better to begin this way, with women working with you instead of some guy who might not know what he’s doing.”

“Women?” Mandy squeaked. “You mean it’s women who are going to do this stuff to me?”

“We have only ladies working here,” Miss D. said. “Of course, Dan can be there if that makes you feel better.”

“Well, okay, I guess,” Mandy said, but she didn’t sound too sure. “And it’s fine if Mr. Diamond watches. That’s, like, fair – because I got to see him get his balls drummed on the other night.”

“Someone drummed on his balls!” Miss D. said.

“Don’t ask,” I told her.

“Fair enough,” Miss D. said. “Why don’t we go back to the dungeon room and get started.”

We walked down the hall to the back of the building, which had once been a medical clinic. The cubicles that we passed were still equipped as examination rooms. A big part of Miss D.’s trade involved enemas, and these rooms provided the perfect setting for medical fantasies. The dungeon room was the last one on the left side of the hall, a double room filled with a lot of sinister-looking equipment. When we went in, Mandy saw the large X-shaped cross against the wall in the far half of the room, and she looked even more scared.

“What in the world is that?” she asked.

“That’s a whipping frame,” Miss D. answered, “but we don’t have to use that. I think you’ll be more comfortable here on this nice padded table.”

While we were looking around, two more women came into the room. I hadn’t met either of them before. One of them was black, as tall as Miss D. and almost as well put together, but with much lighter skin. The other was a small white girl, skinny as a toothpick, her dark hair chopped short with bangs in the front. She was no kid, but she was obviously intended to suggest one. Miss D. introduced the black girl as Destiny and the white one as Muffin.

It wasn’t the Destiny who had caned me at The Castle the week before. Destiny is a name that gets used a lot in the play-for-pay trade. There was a red-haired Destiny, a broad with creamy white skin that bruised easy, who gave me a real workout during one of my first B&D investigations. I don’t think I’ve seen that Destiny since Stella threw that birthday party for me and invited nothing but dames.

Anyway, this was still another Destiny, and Mandy didn’t look too happy to meet her and Muffin. I think the kid was beginning to feel a little bit outnumbered.

“You can take off your clothing now, Mandy,” Miss D. told her.

“Take my clothes off?” the girl asked in that same squeaking voice. “You mean right here in front of everybody.”

“That’s right,” Miss D. answered. “We can’t very well do this if you’re wearing all your clothing, can we?”

I don’t think Mandy was real modest, and she hesitated only a second before pulling her T-shirt over her head, kicking off her shoes and dropping her jeans. Underneath, she had on a bikini bra and panties, so she was now dressed a lot like the other women in the room. Miss D.’s favorite on-the-job attire was a black halter and tiny black shorts that were almost underwear. The other ladies were already stripped to bras and panties.

“Can I keep my underwear on?” Mandy asked.

“I don’t think so, dear,” Miss D. told her. “It’s better if you’re more, let’s say, accessible to us.”

“You mean if you want to, like, get me off?” Mandy said.

“Something like that,” Miss D. answered.

The undies came off, and the erection that had been growing in my jockeys stiffened, pushing out the front of my trousers. Mandy was not only blessed with a rich daddy, but she had a million-dollar body, too. It didn’t seem fair. The other ladies laughed when they saw that her bush had been shaved into the shape of a heart.

Miss D. had Mandy climb onto the long black table and kneel there while she tied her wrists together behind her back. Just as she was finishing, there was a knock on the door, and Carolyn came in wearing her nurse’s uniform and carrying a full enema bag. She hung it from a hospital IV pole that was standing in one corner of the room.

“Wait a minute,” Mandy began, but the little chick named Muffin grabbed her by the hair, yanked her head back and shoved a ball gag into her open mouth. Miss D. tied it tightly behind the girl’s head. Mandy looked around wildly, but Destiny and Muffin grabbed her shoulders and forced them down to the table.

Her butt was up in the air now, her little brown anus ready for the Vaseline that Carolyn had scooped out of a jar with the first finger of her rubber-gloved right hand. Carolyn rubbed the jelly around the rim of the anus and then pushed her finger inside. Mandy made another squeaking noise.

When Mandy was well-greased, Carolyn rolled over the IV stand, and Miss D. plugged the hard plastic nozzle of the enema tube into the girl’s rectum. It took quite a while for the whole bag to drain into her. She made funny little noises the whole time, but they were nothing compared to the muffled protests that erupted when Miss D. showed her the king-size butt plug.

The plug went in, the wooden paddle was selected and that first explosive smack landed on Mandy’s bottom. Miss D. swatted her hard the first time. I guess she wanted to get her attention. She took it easier for the rest of the spanking, but after Mandy had taken a dozen, her backside was bright pink, just like Miss D. had promised. She motioned for me to touch it, and I rested my palm on the left globe of that sensational ass. It felt very hot.

“I’m going to take the plug out now, dear,” Miss D. said, “and you can get rid of all that water. You need to be quick, though, because you’re going to have to go real bad when the plug is removed.”

She grabbed the base of the plug and pulled. There was a moist pop as it came out. Destiny and Muffin pulled Mandy off the table and helped her stand up next to it. There were tears on her cheeks as she looked frantically around for some sign of a bathroom.

“Right there, dear,” Miss D. said, pointing to a large chamber pot that Carolyn had pulled out from under a small stand next to the door.

Mandy’s big eyes stared at her, as though the girl couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but Muffin and Destiny grabbed her arms again and set her down on the potty. They were just in time. We could hear the gush of water into the pot. We waited to see if there would be more. Mandy looked miserable squatting on the potty. She wouldn’t look at us. Finally, the two girls hauled her to her feet again.

“You can go get the other bag now, nurse,” Miss D. told Carolyn.

Mandy’s head shot up. Her eyes seemed to pop out as she looked at the domme.

“You have to have another enema, dear,” Miss D. said. “The first one was soapy to get you good and clean, and if we didn’t rinse you out, it could become very irritated in there. The next one will be nice and warm. I think you’ll like it.”

All the fight had gone out of Mandy. She let herself be helped onto the table again and back into the butt-up position. By then, Carolyn was back with another bag. She hung it from the pole, and Miss D. inserted another nozzle into Mandy’s anus. The girl didn’t make a sound as the liquid flowed in this time. I thought that Miss D. would let her expel the rinse water immediately, but instead she worked the butt plug back into Mandy’s backside.

Carolyn had been rummaging through the top drawer of the dresser. She brought out a large plastic vibrator and handed it to Miss D. She clicked it on and slid the rounded tip down the lips of Mandy’s sex. With the girl’s butt hoisted into the air, her clit was at the bottom and that’s where Miss D. let the vibrator slide.

As Mandy knelt there, bent over with her breasts squashed against the table and the clothes pins still fastened to her nipples, Miss D. brought her to a shuddering orgasm. When they got her off the table this time, the plug was still in her.

“You can go to the regular bathroom now, dear,” Miss D. said, “and the ladies will remove the plug when you get there. You can sit on the toilet as long as you want to and get everything out.”

Mandy could hardly walk as Muffin and Destiny led her out.

“That was pretty rough,” I said to Miss D.

“Unless that’s a flashlight in your pants,” she said, “I think you enjoyed watching every minute of it.”

“You got me there,” I said. “And I guess you were right. She is going to remember this forever.”

“Oh, she’s going to have a lot more than this to remember,” she said.

“You mean you’re not through?” I asked.

“We’re just getting started, Dan,” she said.

I began to object, but my cell phone rang. The caller turned out to be Freddy Abbott.

“I’ve got to take this,” I told Ms. D., and she said I could use her office.

Freddy sounded very excited, talking a mile a minute, and I asked him to slow down.

“I’ve had it, Mr. Diamond,” he said. “I don’t care what happens. I’m not working for Nicky anymore. Even the band’s not worth it. If you want to call the cops, they can get him tonight.”

“What’s going down?” I asked.

“See, Nicky usually has this Oriental chick named Trudy deliver his product,” he began.

“Gertrude Nguyen is not exactly a chick,” I said, “and I’m surprised that Nicky is still using her. But go ahead. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“The thing is, he has Trudy doing something else tonight, and he’s going to bring the stuff to the club himself,” Freddy explained. “He’s supposed to leave it in the dressing room during our set. All the cops have to do is be there when he shows up.”

I told Freddy he was doing the right thing and promised that I’d be there that evening with the law. The law I had in mind was Agent Rebecca Thatcher, so I called her as soon as I said goodbye to Freddy.

“I think we’ve got the creep,” she said. “I’m probably going to get in trouble for not bringing a lot of backup in on this, but if it’s just you and I, maybe we can keep Freddy out of the picture a little more. You up for that, Dan?”

“I suppose so,” I said. “Husbands who are playing around are usually the kind of guys I go after, not mob guys, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Nicky was supposed to come to the club around midnight, so I told Becky that I’d pick her up at eight to make sure that we had plenty of time. I’d barely got the cell phone back in my jacket pocket when it rang again. This time it was Dundeen. How did the guy always know to call when something was shaking?

He was pleased to hear about the latest development. Maybe he’d be there, he said. He’d stay out of the way, he promised, but he wouldn’t mind hanging around somewhere on the sidelines to see Nicky go down. I told him I might see him there. Probably not, he said. He liked to keep a low profile.

After my calls, I sat down on a chair in Miss D.’s office and thought for a while about whether I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to see the career of Abbott and the Costellos destroyed. I didn’t want to see Becky get in deep shit for not going by the book. And I didn’t particularly want to wind up deceased. Oh, well, I decided, sometimes you’ve just got to take your best shot. I got up and went to see what was happening with poor Mandy Andrews.

Everything must have come out all right in the bathroom, because when I peeked in the door of the dungeon room, Mandy was back. There was a little strip of archway between the halves of the double room, more like a beam really, and Miss D. had fitted a couple of hooks into the arch so that her clients could be strung up there. Mandy was hanging from the hooks, her arms stretched wide. She was wearing fleece-lined leather cuffs on her ankles as well as her wrists, and her legs were stretched apart, too, with the ankle cuffs fastened to a spreader bar about two feet long. Her toes barely touched the floor. I couldn’t help noticing that her big round tits looked even more terrific with her arms pulled up that way.

The ball gag was still in her mouth, but she made some sounds at me, and her eyes were begging me for help. There was no one else there, and I guess I could have come to the kid’s rescue, but I knew that she might look back on the whole thing later as one of the biggest turn-ons she’d ever had. I probably wouldn’t have had a chance anyway, because Miss D. came back into the room.

“Mandy forgot her clothes pins in the bathroom,” she explained, “and I had to go get them for her.”

She took one of the girl’s nipples between her thumb and forefinger and pinched it until it was hard and erect. Then she clipped on a clothes pin. She flipped it up and down with one finger.

“I hope that doesn’t hurt too much, dear,” she said. “Perhaps I ought to kiss it and make it all better.”

She removed the clothes pin, leaned over and took Mandy’s nipple between her lips. She sucked on it for a while and ran her tongue around it.

“Does that feel better?” she asked.

Mandy nodded her head up and down. Her eyes looked grateful.

“Good,” Miss D. said, and she snapped the plastic pin back on the nipple. Mandy’s eyes widened. Miss. D. clipped a second clothes pin on her other nipple. She flipped them both up and down.

“That will give you something to think about while we’re waiting for the other ladies,” she said. “We had some other clients come in,” she added, turning to me. “But Muffin and Destiny will be back in a few minutes.”

“I bet Mandy can’t wait,” I said.

“Don’t get smart, Dan,” she said. “I think we can find someplace to hang you, too.”

Under other circumstances I might have taken her up on that threat, but I had a lot of other things to think about. I wasn’t in the mood. I had crime on my mind, not punishment.

The wooden paddle with the holes was lying on the table. Miss D. picked it up and hung it back on the wall rack. Mandy, whose eyes were following her new mistress wherever she went, was probably relieved to see that, but I knew that Miss D. was going to pick out some new toy to use on the girl’s tender bottom. She stood looking at the whips and paddles for a while before choosing two of them.

They were both favorites of mine. One was that familiar flat, leather-covered thing that looked like an oversized Ping Pong paddle. The other had a long, slender round shaft with two small flaps of leather on the end. Either one made a nice smack when it hit bare flesh, and either one could turn a backside very warm, but they didn’t do nearly as much damage as something like a riding crop or a cat-o’-nine-tails or especially one of those mean canes. Miss D. must have decided to cut Mandy a break, but I don’t imagine the kid saw it that way.

The domme set the broad paddle down on the table and walked over to her hanging victim, tapping the end of the flapper on her other hand thoughtfully as if she was considering where to apply it. She walked under the arch and behind the girl, and Mandy tried to look back over her shoulder to see what Miss D. was going to do. They made a real pair. Both of them had bodies that would give even John Ashcroft an instant boner, but Mandy’s naked white flesh made a nice contrast to Miss D.’s brief black costume and dark skin – “chocolate” was the word she always used.

Miss D. walked all the way around the girl, and as she came around in front of her, she struck up with the flapper and gave a sharp whack to the clothes pin hanging from Mandy’s right breast. The girl squealed, probably as much from surprise as from the painful jerk on her nipple. Miss D. slapped at the other pin, and Mandy squealed again.

This was one of Miss D.’s favorite little games. She’s had me hung up on a number of occasions, eight or nine clothes pins attached to my naked body. In my case, she not only had the nipples to decorate, but also my cock and balls. She’d put three or four in a line down the underside of my stiff penis and two or three more on each side of my sac, which was usually drawn up into a tight red ball by a leather cord she had tied around its base. Then she’d stand there and slap the clothes pins off one by one with her riding crop.

Once, she had one of her ladies come in to check me out, a youngish kid who was new to the business. I’ll never forget the look on the girl’s face when she saw all the clothes pins fastened to my privates and watched Miss D. whack them off. The memory can still give me a hard-on when I’m lying in bed at night.

Miss D. was idly bouncing the clothes pins on Mandy’s nipples around when Muffin and Destiny returned. Apparently their boss had already give told them what she had in mind for Mandy, because when Miss D. handed the round paddle to Destiny, she immediately took her place behind the hanging girl. To my surprise, Muffin dropped to her knees on the floor in front of Mandy and pushed her face in between the girl’s spread thighs.

Mandy was surprised, too. Her eyes widened as she felt Muffin’s tongue on her pussy, and they practically popped from her head when Destiny drew back the paddle and gave her a loud smack on her round, reddened bottom. The spanking continued. So did Muffin’s tongue. Mandy closed her eyes and her head went back. She seemed to stretch all over, even in that spread position, and then her eyes snapped open again and her head jerked forward as Miss D. swatted her on her taut belly with the flapper paddle.

Miss D. smacked her again. There were two pink marks on Mandy’s stomach now, but Miss D. didn’t hit her there again. She swung her paddle up and slapped hard on the bottom of the clothes pin on Mandy’s left nipple. The girl gave another muffled squeal. Miss D. hit the clothes pin on the other breast. There was another squeal.

Miss D. kept the clothes pins bouncing around on Mandy’s chest, and you could hear Destiny’s paddle smacking the girl’s bottom in a steady rhythm. Mandy was stretching back again, a pink flush spreading down from her breasts to her belly so that the marks where Miss D. swatted her all but disappeared. Muffin’s head bobbed and down now, faster and faster, until she suddenly pulled it back and looked up at Miss D. Her face was glistening with Mandy’s juices. Miss D. and Destiny stopped swinging their paddles.

“Did Miss Amanda enjoy herself?” the domme asked.

“I’ll say she did,” Muffin answered with a grin, wiping one of her cheeks with the back of her hand. “She squirted like a guy!”

Miss D. removed the clothes pins from Mandy’s nipples, and she and Destiny took the girl down from the hooks in the archway and led her over to the table. She looked up at me once, and her eyes above the gag still seemed to be pleading, but she didn’t struggle as Miss D. and Destiny got her onto the table face down. The girl’s well-paddled backside looked hot and swollen, and I was surprised that Miss D. was getting her into another bottoms-up position. I didn’t think she ever punished anyone really hard unless they insisted on that kind of treatment.

As it turned out, she didn’t this time either. Mandy’s tender behind was going to be spared any more abuse. They pulled her legs up behind her until her heels were almost touching her rump, and then they clipped the ankle cuffs onto the ends of the spreader bar. Next, her arms were pulled behind her, and the wrist cuffs also were clipped to the bar, so that her body was arched backwards. The bottoms of her boobs were still pressing against the table, but she was pulled up and back enough that you could see the nipples.

The position looked uncomfortable as hell, especially the way her shoulders were wrenched back. Miss D. had never bound me up like that, and I told myself to be sure and remember to request that she never did.

Now Miss D. grabbed Mandy’s long blonde hair in back, twisted some of it into a rope-like length and tied it that way with one end of a long leather cord. The other end of the cord was tied around the middle of the spreader bar, so that the girl’s head was pulled back toward her wriggling toes. Her frightened eyes looked huge, rolling back as she tried to see what Miss D. was going to do next.

Miss D. went over to the archway and picked up the flapper paddle from where she’d dropped it to the floor. She walked slowly back to the long table, making sure that Mandy could see what she was carrying. She moved to the end of the table, out of the girl’s sight.

Mandy’s red bottom was covered by her hands and feet, brought together at the spreader bar, so it was no longer a target, but her legs were held apart by the bar, and Miss D. was able to swing down between them and slap the flapper hard against the inside of one of her thighs. A squeal came through the gag, and even though she was so tightly bound, Mandy jerked back on the table and then rolled forward again.

Miss D. smacked her on the other thigh. She hit her twice more in the same spot, and Mandy’s full breasts rose and fell against the table as her body rocked. Miss D. moved to one side of the table, held the slender paddle straight up and down and slapped up between the girl’s legs. The gag barely muffled Mandy’s shriek.

Miss D. kept spanking her between her legs, striking her pussy and anus. It must have seemed like a long whipping to Mandy, but the domme actually hit her only eight or nine times. Then she set the paddle aside and picked up the vibrator that she had used on the girl earlier. She flicked on the switch and pushed the vibrating rod of hard plastic between the girl’s legs. The squeals turned into a mewing — like a cat in heat, I thought. A few minutes passed. The mews grew louder, turned into grunts and finally into a long muffled groan of pleasure. Miss D. pulled back the vibrator and turned it off.

“I have another client waiting, dear,” she told the girl. “Destiny and Muffin will unfasten you now. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Come back and see us soon.”

She left the room, and Destiny began untying the knot that held Mandy’s hair to the spreader bar. Muffin didn’t help. She motioned for me to follow her out into the hall.

“Miss D. told me that I could take care of your boner now,” she said when we were outside. “And she said there wouldn’t be any charge. She said thanks for the new customer.”

I looked down at the front of my trousers. I had an erection all right. No question about that.

“When did she say that?” I asked. “I didn’t hear her tell you anything.”

“Oh, she said that before you got here,” Muffin explained.

“How did she know I was going to have a boner?” I said.

The girl cocked her head to one side and shook it slowly back and forth as she sighed the weary sigh of someone confronted by a fool.

“Right,” I said. “Of course. Miss D. is a step ahead of me, just like always. I’d be honored to have you take care of my boner, Muffin.”

She led me into the room across the hall. There was an examination table there, just like the one in the dungeon room, and Muffin pushed me back against it and began unfastening my belt. I would have helped, but it only took her a moment to unbuckle it and unbutton my trousers and haul both them and my jockeys down around my ankles. She was down on her knees by then, and she stayed there, grabbing my erect penis and rolling on a rubber that she must have had tucked into her bra or panties. Then she took my erection in her mouth.

I felt kind of left out by the whole thing, so I reached down and tried to cup one of her small breasts, but she pushed my hand away. There apparently weren’t going to be any extras with the free blowjob, but I didn’t mind that much.

The kid was good at her job. Between her busy little tongue and the fingers tickling my balls, it didn’t take her that long. I supposed I could have tried to hang in there a little longer, but it felt so great I didn’t bother. When I was through, she stood up and grinned at me, looking like a little imp.

“You could have played with my booby,” she said, “but it’s a little sore. Some asshole whipped my tits during a session yesterday.”

“I didn’t think Miss D. allowed anything like that with her ladies,” I said.

“She doesn’t,” Muffin said, “and she usually looks in whenever one of us is doing a submissive session, just to make sure nothing really bad is happening. But she was real busy yesterday, and the creep was already done and going out the door before I could tell her about it.”

“I’m sure she won’t let that guy come in here again,” I said.

“Better than that,” Muffin said. “She grabbed that baseball bat she keeps in her office, and she ran outside and smashed the asshole’s windshield before he could drive away.”

I knew Miss D. was a smart cookie, but I guess she was a pretty tough one, too. I was impressed, and I would have asked for more details, but Muffin cut the conversation short. She reached out and gave my softening penis a little squeeze.

“When you’re ready, you can go out in the waiting room,” she said. “We’ll send Mandy out there.”

“Thanks, kid,” I said. “That was very nice.”

I reached down and pulled up my pants enough to get out my wallet. The blowjob had been a freebie, but I gave her two Jacksons and a Hamilton as a tip. Mr. Big Spender, right? I probably should have given her more, but in a few hours, I was going to go out and help Rebecca Thatcher bust the only big-bucks client I’d had in months. I might run a little short of cash myself in the next couple of weeks.

Muffin seemed to be pleased, and she stretched up on her tiptoes and gave me a little peck on the cheek before she left.

I waited in the outside room for quite a while before Destiny came out with Mandy alongside. Mandy wouldn’t look at me as she walked across the room and out the front door. I nodded to Destiny and followed Mandy out. She was waiting by my car for me to unlock the door, and she still didn’t say anything as she slid carefully into the passenger seat, trying not to put too much weight on her sore bottom.

I figured she didn’t want to talk on the ride back downtown to my office, so I kept my mouth shut. I drove on Pico for a while before dropping over to Olympic for the rest of the trip downtown. I like to drive down Olympic and try to figure out what the signs on the Korean businesses mean. We got all the way to Figueroa before Mandy said anything.

“They were really mean to me,” she said, staring down at her lap.

“I thought it was a little rough, too, Mandy,” I said. “But I figured Miss D. knows what she’s doing.”

There was another long silence.

“She came back in to see me before I left,” she said.

“You mean Miss D.?” I asked.

“That’s right,” Mandy said. “She gave me, like, a kiss. She wanted to know if I had a good time.”

Another long silence. We were nearly to Temple Street.

“What did you tell her?” I asked finally.

“I said I did,” Mandy answered, almost in a whisper.

We didn’t talk again until I got her back to her car in front of my office. When she was about to drive away, she looked up at me standing next to the door.

“It wasn’t really fair,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“I only got to see you spanked and stuff for a little bit,” she said. “They did stuff to me for a real long time. Now I ought to get to see some more stuff happen to you.”

“That’s a deal, babe,” I said.

“Promise?” she asked.

“Promise,” I said, and she drove away.

* * * * * * * * *

After Mandy was gone, I went up to my office only long enough to tell Stella to take the rest of the day off. Then I drove to my apartment and lay down on the couch in the living room to wait until it was time to get ready for Becky to come and get me. I fell asleep and was still out when she knocked on the door.

“I just woke up,” I told her when I let her in. “I’ve got to grab a quick shower.”

My dick was sticking to my underwear because I hadn’t washed it after I took off the rubber back at Miss D.’s joint. If I was going to come to an untimely end that evening, I didn’t want to show up at the Pearly Gates with a sticky dick. In the shower, I got to thinking about Mandy’s session, and I had a hard-on when I came out of the bathroom. Becky had come into my bedroom to talk while I dressed, and she grinned when she saw the erection.

“Thinking about me, I hope,” she said.

I told her about Mandy’s virgin B&D experience, and my penis got even harder while I was recalling all the details. I would have liked to tell Becky more about it when we were together under the covers, but we didn’t have time.

“I’ve never made up my mind whether I like all that or not,” she said when I was finished with the story.

“I thought you liked it when you were pretending to be one of Mrs. Stern’s maids?” I said.

“A little maybe,” she said. “There was a lot of it that I didn’t care for, though, like wearing a horse’s tail stuck in my butt.”

“What was the name Mrs. Stern used for you?” I asked.

“You know damn well it was Dot,” she said. “You called me that five or six times right here in this apartment the other night.”

“Did I really?” I said. “You mean in the heat of the moment, right?”

“The moment?” she said. “Is that what you call it now?”

* * * * * * * * *

We took Becky’s car to the club where Abbott and the Costellos were playing. On the way, I glanced over at her, at the skirt of the tight little black dress hiked halfway up her thighs as she drove.

“Where do you carry your gun in a dress like that?” I asked.

“It’s in my purse,” she said. “Where’s yours?”

“In the bottom drawer of the desk in my office,” I said, “but I’ve never fired it. I don’t think I ever bought any bullets.”

“Jesus, Dan,” she said, “you’re going to be a big help!”

“Moral support,” I said. “I’m great at moral support.

At the club, we got a table in a far corner, away from the stage and about as inconspicuous as we could manage. We had a few drinks. The opening act was an alt-country group that was even worse than Cunt had been, if that was possible. They stumbled through a mercifully short set, and we had some more drinks.

About 11, the Costellos came on. Freddy seemed to be looking around for us, and he looked relieved when he finally spotted us back in our corner. He nodded toward the bar. Nicky Balls had arrived in and was talking with the bartender. We scooted down lower in our seats and waited. After about fifteen minutes, Nicky finished his drink and walked toward the door that led backstage. We waited another ten or fifteen minutes before following him through the door and down a short hall.

We stopped outside the dressing room, and Becky took her gun out of her purse. She nodded at me. Here goes nothing, I thought, and I kicked open the door. There was no one in the room. The only thing unusual was a pile of clothing in the middle of the floor. It looked like Nicky’s expensive Italian suit on top, folded neatly.

I didn’t see a sign of Nicky himself. In fact, after that night, I never saw Nicky Balls again. As far as I know, no one else did either.

I looked down at the suit and saw that there was a playing card stuck into the breast pocket. I reached down and pulled it out – the Ace of Spades. I turned it over. It was from one of those specially printed decks, like the ones the Vegas casinos have with their names on the backs.

There was only one word on the back of this card, printed black and bold.

“DUNDEE.”

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