The Case of the Spectacled Band – Part 1- A Dan Diamond BDSM Mystery

The Case of the Spectacled Band – Part 1
A Dan Diamond mystery by j.

Carl Sandburg arranged to have his fog come creeping in on little cat’s feet, but the smog that had engulfed the L.A. basin that morning would have had to be hoofed in by a whole herd of elephants. The windows in my office looked toward Chinatown instead of giving me a downtown view of the glass office towers on Bunker Hill, but I probably wouldn’t have been able to see them anyway. I sure as hell couldn’t see the San Gabriels off to the north, past Pasadena.

I knew the sky was probably bright blue out on the other side of those mountains, out in the westward-pointing finger of the Mojave known as the Antelope Valley. They used to shoot antelope from the rear platforms of the trains that ran through the valley, but there hasn’t been a sign of one for years. I don’t know whether the “sportsmen” wiped the antelope out or whether the pronghorns took off in disgust after Lancaster and Palmdale began their ugly sprawl across the desert, but they’re long gone either way.

The desert isn’t a bad place for a drive on a slow day, especially when the sky over the city is that heavy, depressing gray and you’d do anything to get out from under it.

I had been feeling a little depressed even before the smog rolled in. The only cases in the log at Daniel X. Diamond Investigations over the last two weeks had been two missing husbands and a lost dog. It turned out that the husbands had run off with each other. The dog had wandered away on his own. Before that, my last big case had involved a couple of drag queens who were trying to screw each other — only figuratively in this instance — so you can see that it hadn’t been a great month in the detecting business.

From the little moans that I’d been hearing from my outer office, I figured that my secretary Stella had decided to relieve the boredom by pulling down her panties behind the cover of her desk and getting herself off. I’d been waiting until she finished to go out and tell her that I was splitting for the rest of the day and going for a desert drive, but then I heard someone come into the outer office. In fact, it sounded like a bunch of someones.

I heard Stella give a startled little cry, and then I heard her talking with whoever had come in, and then she poked her head through the door of my office.

“There’s some people to see you, boss,” she said. “Are you busy?”

“Busy as always,” I told her, “but I think I can see them for a moment. Ask them to come in, please.”

She went away. A moment later, a very odd group of folks followed one another into my office. The first one was a guy dressed like a monk, complete with a long brown robe and this big cross hanging around his neck. After him came four more guys who looked kind of like techno nerds who’d wandered in from a computer lab. They all wore black horn-rimmed glasses and porkpie hats. None of them, even the one in the robes, looked to be over thirty.

“Hi, Mr. Diamond,” said the monk, holding out his hand. “I’m Freddy Abbott, and these are the Costellos.”

I shook his hand and nodded to the other four.

“The Costellos?” I asked.

“As in Abbott and the Costellos,” Freddy said. “You know. The band. That’s us.”

A little light went off. I knew about this crew. They were some kind of emo band that had gotten hot over the last six months or so in L.A.’s crazy club scene. I’d never heard these guys, but I had heard of them.

“Okay,” I said, “I know that the name is a takeoff on Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, and I can see that you’re dressed up like the abbot of a monastery or something, but I don’t get the specs on your buddies.”

“Look again,” Freddy said.

I did. Another of those lights went off.

“Oh,” I said. “Elvis Costello. They’re supposed to look like Elvis Costello.”

“You got it,” he said happily. “A lot of people don’t.”

“Just lucky,” I said. “So what can I do you for?”

“Well, we’ve been handling our own bookings so far,” he replied. “We weren’t big enough to have a real manager. Now we’re getting to be known a little, and we thought we ought to get somebody. There’s this one guy who says he’ll represent us, but we’re not sure about him, and — ”

“And you want me to check him out?” I said.

“Right,” he said happily, pleased that I had finished his line correctly. “That’s exactly right.”

“So what’s this guy’s name?” I asked.

“His name is Ray Man, with only one ‘n’ on the end,” Abbott said, “and his company is called PPP.”

“What’s that stand for?” I said.

“Prime Pussy Productions,” he answered. “A lot of his clients are girls who work in porno films. I think most of the movies they’re in are B&D. You know, bondage and discipline. Spanking and that kind of stuff.”

“I think you’ve come to the right place,” I said. “The last couple of years, I’ve handled quite a few problems for people in that part of the sex racket. I probably already know some of the girls in those B&D movies. If I don’t, I’m sure I know some other people who will.”

“Wow! That’s great,” said one of the Costellos.

“It sure is,” said Abbott. “I hope you have time to start checking Ray Man out right away, Mr. Diamond.”

“My schedule is pretty full,” I said, “but I think I can find a little time to help you guys. Should be a piece of cake.”

Famous last words.

* * * * * * * * *

After Abbott and the Costellos left, I sat there for a while thinking about which of my friends I should call first. Miss D.? Mrs. Stern? I got up and went out to get the list of client phone numbers from Stella. She was gone, and she’d left a note saying that she had been invited by the band to catch one of their rehearsals and was taking the rest of the day off. A rehearsal? I wondered what they were rehearsing. Then I thought of the famous Abbott-and-Costello routine and wondered who would be on first. Freddy Abbott probably. He was the band’s front man, wasn’t he?

I found the list in Stella’s top drawer and went back to my desk to call Miss D. The phone was answered by Carolyn, the right-hand girl at Miss D.’s bondage parlor and enema emporium. She said her boss was winding up a session, and if I’d hold the line for a minute, Miss D. would be right there. I sat there for a while with the phone to my ear, and I thought I could hear noises in the distance that sounded like the smacks of a paddle on a bare bottom. Probably my imagination.

When Miss D. came to the phone, she asked why I hadn’t been out to her place on Pico for a while. I apologized and told her I’d been up to my neck in misbehaving husbands and straying dogs. Then I told her why I was calling. She said that she didn’t know Ray Man herself, but that a girl named Destiny who worked for her for a while had been in a couple of bondage films that Man produced.

“Destiny works out at The Castle now,” she said. “You know your way there, don’t you, Dan?”

I told her I did. I thanked her, promised to visit her soon and said goodbye. I could have tried to reach this Destiny chick by phone, but I decided to drive out to the Valley and see if she was on duty at The Castle that afternoon. Might as well, I figured, since it’s a real slow day. Jesus, I thought a second later. Am I trying to kid myself? What I really had in mind was a little session. But there’s nothing wrong with mixing business and pleasure, right?

When I got to The Castle, there was a guy I didn’t know at the front desk. He asked me whether I wanted a dominant or a submissive. I asked him if Destiny was working.

“Destiny is a switch,” he said. “Did you want to see her as a sub or as a domme?”

“How about a little of both?” I asked.

“No problem,” he said. “We get clients every now and then who like to trade places in the middle of a session. Destiny is busy right now, but if you take a seat in the waiting room, she should be out in just a few minutes.”

I went into the little room across the hall that held a couch and three or four chairs. I picked up a magazine from the stack on a side table and began to look through it. I couldn’t figure out what Good Housekeeping was doing there, but I began reading an article that had a recipe for peanut sauce. I’m a sucker for Thai cooking.

After about fifteen minutes, this very light-skinned black girl in a lime-green bikini bra and panties came into the room and told me that she was Destiny. She was pretty short and pretty slender, and she had a look that made me wonder whether she was part Thai herself. Her bikini didn’t cover much, so I could tell that she was skimpier in the hips than I liked, but her boobs were almost more than the tiny bra could hold. Silicone probably, but that never bothers me.

She asked me if I’d like to come back to one of the rooms to talk about our session, and I told her that was fine with me. She led me back to a bondage room that I’d already seen before. It was large, but there was so much equipment that it seemed crowded. One wall was dominated by a big wooden frame in the shape of an “X” that I knew well. I’d been tied to that couple of times.

“I understand you want a switch session,” she said. “You want me to be submissive first, right?”

“Is that the way it usually goes?” I asked.

“Always,” she answered.

“Really,” I said.

“Really,” she replied. “The guy spanks me for a while, and then he wants me to punish him for being a bad boy. Is that what you had in mind?”

I admitted that it was.

“So, do you want me to get naked?” she asked.

“That would be nice,” I said.

She took off the bra and panties. She was shaved between her legs, and the lips of her pussy seemed swollen and glistening with moisture, as if she really was excited about what was about to happen. Her large breasts didn’t sag a bit when she took off the bra, and I was surer than ever that my silicone theory was on target.

I told her to take a couple of pairs of leather cuffs off the wall rack and put them on her wrists and ankles. While she was doing that, I got a leather paddle with a long, flat blade off the rack. As she was bending over to put on the ankle cuffs, I whacked her a couple of times on her round little bottom. Like I said, it was smaller than I liked, but it was cute, and the paddle made a nice loud smack when it landed on the naked flesh.

“Ouch,” she said, but she was grinning.

I told her to get up on the long, vinyl-covered table in the middle of the room. Like all the tables in bondage joints, it looked a lot like a doctor’s examination table, but there were rings on the legs for fastening ropes or chains, and it was on wheels so that it could be moved around. I knew that sometimes at the Castle, they’d get a victim tied down just right and then wheel him or her to the even larger room down the hall that was used for B&D shows.

I got Destiny on her hands and knees, and then I had her lower her shoulders to the table and stretch her arms back between her legs. I got a couple of metal clips and fastened the cuff on her left wrist to the one on her left ankle. I did the same thing on the right side, so that she was pretty much helpless, with her bottom sticking conveniently into the air. I turned the blade of the paddle sideways and ran the edge between her legs, pushing it between the lips of her sex and then up and onto the wrinkled rim of her anus. I pulled the paddle back, twisted the blade into the usual position and slapped her twice on the backs of her bare thighs.

“Ouch!” she said again, but she wasn’t kidding this time.

With her head lying flat on the table, she was looking back at me over one shoulder, but I walked to the other side, where she couldn’t see me, and began to take off my clothes. I wanted to be out of her sight so she’d start wondering what was about to happen next. Even for a dame who’s been in the business for a while, uncertainty adds a little edge to the action.

When I was naked, with a hard-on bobbing in front of me, I went to the end of the table and pulled Destiny back until her ankles and the wrists linked to them were just over the edge. I put my penis into one of her outstretched hands. Her fingers closed around it and squeezed. You didn’t have to tell this chick much.

My fingers moved over the globes of that cute little bottom, and then I spanked it a half dozen times with my bare right hand. Her skin was light enough that you could see the flesh redden. I leaned against her, ran my hands down her sides and slid them underneath her until I held one of those round breasts in each hand. My fingers found her nipples, and her grip on my erection tightened as I pulled and pinched the hard little buds on her chest. She began to pump my penis as much as she could in her awkward position. I released her boobs and stepped back. I didn’t want to cum this early. Sometimes, I can get off a couple of times in an hour session, but I didn’t want to risk it.

I stood for a few minutes looking at the widely spread thighs and the moist sex exposed between them, at the rounded buttocks and the vulnerable little hole that was peering at me like a miniature cyclops. I couldn’t imagine that a domme had nearly as great a view when she was staring at some guy’s hairy ass and drooping balls.

“So, Destiny,” I said. “It seems to me like I’ve seen you before. Maybe in a movie or something. You haven’t been in any of those B&D flicks, have you?”

(Did you notice with what great subtlety the veteran investigator proceeds?)

“I’ve been in a couple,” she answered.

“Think I might have seen them?” I asked.

“They sell the videos in most of the porn stores,” she said. “If you hang out in those places, maybe you caught one of them. My movie name is Honey Harlow. Sweet Honey Harlow.”

“How did you get a name like that?” I asked. “Your manager give it to? “Yeah,” she said. “Right. How did you know I’ve got a manager?”

“I figured most chicks in porn movies do,” I said, “just like any of the dames who are trying to get into the movie business in L.A.”

“Yeah,” she repeated. “I guess that’s right.”

“I know a lot of people in the business,” I said. “Would I know your manager?”

“His name’s Man,” she said. “With just one ‘n’ on the end. But you’d probably know his company better. It’s 3-P.”

“Which means?” I asked.

“Prime Pussy Productions,” she said. “Pretty embarrassing, huh? Being represented by an office called Prime Pussy?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “From where I’m standing now, it looks to me like you qualify.”

“Thanks very much,” Destiny said with a giggle.

“So where’s this Man have his office?” I asked. “I know a girl who was thinking about getting into skin flicks. She’s been looking for someone like this guy.”

“He’s in the Bradbury Building,” she replied.

“You’re kidding me!” I said.

“No, really,” she answered. “He’s got another company, too, with clients who are in the real movie business. Starr Management. That’s the name on the door at the Bradbury Building.”

“No shit,” I said. “Does he represent any big names?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I think he makes most of his money by lining up cute girls for his porno films. There are a lot of chicks who think he’s getting them into legit movies, and then they wind up hog-tied with a camera looking up their pussy and some guy sticking a 12-incher into their mouth.”

“Pretty wild,” I said.

“I guess so,” she said. “But things aren’t getting very wild here, are they? While we’re talking about Ray Man, you’re running out of time. Your hour’s going to be gone before I get my turn with you up here on the table.”

“Okay, babe,” I said. “Let me take one more whack or two, and then we’ll switch.”

I picked up the paddle and smacked her bottom hard a half dozen times. I put down the paddle and cupped my hands on her buttocks. They felt hot. I walked over to the rack and selected a long, slender cane. Destiny’s eyes had been following me, and I thought I heard her mutter, “Oh, shit!” I knew how she felt. I hated the cane myself.

I walked behind her and ran the cane up the cleft of her sex. I rested the tip on her anus for a moment before pushing it gently into the tightly clenched hole. Destiny made a little sound, halfway between a groan and a moan. I ran the tip in an out of her anus, like a tiny penis invading her most private part.

I suddenly pulled it out, stepped quickly to the side of the table and slashed her across the backs of her thighs. She cried out in pain and surprise.

“No more screaming or I’ll stuff one of those dildos in your mouth,” I told her.

She bit her lip, but she didn’t make a sound as I caned her four or five times. You could see the red stripes rise on her thighs and buttocks. I gotta admit that I get a little turned-on seeing a chick tied up with her naked bottom pointing at the ceiling, but I really don’t enjoy inflicting pain. It’s not my thing. I don’t like being whipped hard myself, and I don’t like to do it to anyone else.

My strategy in a switch session, though, is to get the dame a little mad at me, so she’ll want to take a real shot at my ass, instead of just play-acting. Sometimes, they get mad enough that I get swatted a lot harder than I like, but it’s the little touch of fear, the wondering how they’re going to lay into me, that gets my adrenalin pumping and my dick hard. Does that sound crazy? I guess so, but that’s the way it is.

* * * * * * * * *

Destiny didn’t say a word as I unfastened the clips holding her wrists and ankles together and helped her sit up on the edge of the table. She didn’t look very happy, though. She unbuckled the cuffs and tossed them onto the floor.

“Get down there and put those on,” she ordered.

I sat down on the floor and did as I was told. I had expected her to use the paddle or the cane on me while I was fastening the cuffs, like I’d done to her, but she just sat and watched me.

“Get up on the table on your hands and knees,” she said.

In a very few minutes, she had me in the exact position that I’d had her. My head was against the cold vinyl, and my arms were stretched back between my legs with the wrist fastened securely to my ankles. My naked butt was in the air, with my genitals hanging down between my spread thighs. My erection had actually wilted a little. I was afraid that I might have pushed Destiny too far.

She was directly behind me, and I couldn’t see her, but I felt the tip of the cane probing my anus. She kept it there only a minute or so until she lowered it and pushed it sharply into the tender flesh of my dangling sac.

“Ever have your balls caned?” she asked.

“Not really,” I said, and my hard-on disappeared entirely as my penis tried to run away and hide.

She walked around to the front of the table.

“So what’s the deal, Mr. Daniel X. Diamond?” she asked.

“You know who I am?” I said, suddenly feeling even more stupid than usual.

“Of course I know, dickhead!” she said. “Most of the girls who work here know who you are, and they’ve pointed you out a lot of times. Everytime you come snooping around out here, you get somebody’s ass in a bind.”

“Usually, their ass deserves to be in a bind,” I protested. “And I’ve helped out a lot of girls, too. It goes both ways.”

“So you say,” she answered. “Maybe you’re a great guy and maybe you’re a shit, but what I want to know is why you’re trying to pump me about Ray Man.”

I figured that I’d screwed up so far by trying to be clever, so I told her the truth. I explained to her that I was checking out Prime Pussy Productions for Abbott and the Costellos.

“I know about those guys,” she said. “I can’t stand the kind of crap they play, but I’ve got some friends who think they’re hot shit.”

“Anyway,” I said, “that’s how it is.”

“Could be,” she said, “but Ray’s a friend of mine. I think I’m going to give him a call so he can have a personal conversation with you.”

I didn’t care for that idea, but I didn’t figure it would do any good to argue with her. She left, and I waited with my asshole staring at the wall behind me while she went to telephone Man. It didn’t take her long.

“How about a little fun while we’re waiting?” she asked when she returned. “Those welts you put on my bottom feel just wonderful, and I guess I’d better return the favor.”

I was a little concerned about how Ray Man would react when he found out that I’d been snooping around asking about him, but I wasn’t really worried a whole lot. In L.A. — or anywhere else, I suppose — it’s not unusual for a prospective client to check out a manager before signing with him. Man wasn’t going to get his shorts in a knot over that.

On the other hand, I wasn’t too sure about Destiny. I hoped that she wasn’t too hacked off. First, I tried to get information out of her in a way that maybe wasn’t strictly on the up and up. Then I laid some pretty good stripes on her bottom. Who could blame her if she was pissed?

She tossed the cane onto the floor and picked up the paddle. I was glad of that. The smack of a paddle on your bare butt can hurt, but for me, it’s almost as much turn-on as it is pain. On the other hand, when a domme grabs a cane, I begin to have second thoughts about this whole B&D business. I guess I’ve said that a lot of times before, haven’t I? Well, it’s still true. I know there are guys — girls, too — who like to be whipped until their asses are bruised and bloody, but that’s not my idea of a relaxing afternoon at your friendly neighborhood bondage parlor.

I thought she was going to whack me on the butt, but she stuck the paddle between my spread thighs and gently bounced my balls up and down a couple of times. She must have thought that looked funny, because she giggled.

“Men are so vulnerable,” she said. “If I smacked you hard on those, you’d be walking funny for a month.”

“But you’re not going to do that, I hope,” I said.

“I should,” she answered. “You come in here with that story about looking for a manager for your girlfriend, and you expect me to believe it. You must think that girls who are in this business are pretty dumb.”

“Not really. Some of the smartest dames I know are dommes,” I said, thinking of Mrs. Stern and Miss D.”

Maybe she bought that, but she pulled back the paddle and gave me a blazing swat on my right buttock anyway. I don’t know whether the sharp smack of leather meeting skin or the startled shout I gave was louder, but I guess Destiny wanted to check it out again, because she gave me an even harder whack on the left side. I was ready for that one, and I didn’t yell, but I couldn’t help gasping at the sudden burst of pain. Then I could feel the heat spreading across my bottom.

She spanked me twice more on each side. Hard. My butt was on fire. She walked around behind me, out of sight. She must have been tired of using the paddle, because I heard it hit the floor when she tossed it aside. She reached between my legs, grabbed my penis and pulled it painfully backward.

“Hard as a rock,” she said. “I guess getting your backside paddled is a big charge for you, Mr. Diamond. I’m going to have to think of something you don’t like so much.”

“Blow jobs,” I said. “I can’t stand blow jobs.”

“Oh, my,” she said, “you’re a comedian, too.”

“Just trying to help,” I said.

“You can help by rolling over,” she said.

“I’m not sure that I can do that with my wrists and ankles fastened together like this,” I said.

“Bring your legs closer together,” she ordered.

I tried to obey her, but it wasn’t easy. When my wrists, which were attached to the insides of my ankles, were only a few inches apart, she got me off my knees by simply shoving me over onto one side. If the table hadn’t been so wide, I’d have gone right over the edge. Then she tugged and and yanked on me until she somehow got me rolled over onto my back. Destiny may have been a skinny little thing, but she was damn strong.

When I was in that face-up postion, my upper legs were pulled back above my belly, with my knees almost touching my chest. There was one of those spreader bars hanging from a chain above the table, and Destiny lowered it and attached the clips linking my wrists and ankles to the ends of the bar. That spread my legs again, even wider than they’d been before.

She cranked the bar back up, pulling the lower part of my body up until only my shoulders and upper back were touching the table. My bottom was a couple of feet in the air, with the eye of my asshole peering at the ceiling. My stiff dick and my balls flopped around up there over my face.

“Stay right there, Mr. Diamond,” Destiny said, and she went away.

She wasn’t gone long, I guess, but I can’t say that time flies when you’re hauled up to dry like that. I was beginning to worry that she was going to leave me there when the door opened and Destiny came in carrying a lit candle and a small towel. She wadded the towel into my mouth. It wasn’t the fanciest gag I’d ever worn, but it shut me up.

At first, I was afraid that she was going to use the candle on me like a dildo, but that wasn’t what Destiny had in mind. Instead, she began to drip the hot wax onto the back of my thighs. It didn’t hurt that much, but she worked her way up and the dripping wax began to land directly on the tightening ring of my anus. It felt weird, but still not that painful. Then the line of drips began to march down the tender flesh between my legs, heading toward my balls. I wanted to yell at her. The towel wouldn’t let me.

At the last minute, she bypassed my balls and began to coat the underside of my erection with the hot wax. Well, I guess that in the odd position I was in, that was the side on top. It was still the bottom of my dick, though. You know what I mean.

That hurt a little more, but not as bad as the spanking she’d given me. But then she grabbed my penis, pulled it up so that it was pointing at the ceiling and began to drip wax into the little hole in the end. Things got a lot more intense, and they got even hotter when she moved to my balls. You don’t realize how tender the skin down there is until you get the hot-wax treatment.

I must have been jerking around a little, even strung up like I was, because Destiny was laughing at me. She squeezed my wax-covered dick.

“Still hard, Mr. Diamond,” she said. “I guess I’m going to have to drain it for you.”

That sounded like a lot more fun, but I didn’t realize how she was going to go about it. She went over to a small table and came back with a gizmo that I recognized as a vibrating cock ring. She slid the plastic ring down over my stiff penis until she managed to wriggle it into place just below the head. She set the plastic box that held the batteries and the on/off switch on my chest, with the wires trailing across my belly. She switched it on, and the intense sensation spread down my erection until it seemed even my wax-sprinkled balls were quivering. It felt great.

My eyes were closed and I was enjoying the good vibrations when I felt the first stripe of pain on the back of my right leg, just where thigh met bottom. My eyes snapped open in time to see Destiny draw back the cane and slash me again in exactly the same place. My yelp was muffled by the towel.

“Your turn, Mr. Diamond,” she said. “I can’t remember how many you gave me, but I think eight should be enough.”

That was way more than enough as far as I was concerned, but I couldn’t argue. The cane rose and fell. The vibrator kept buzzing. My thighs were criss-crossed with fire, but my penis was swollen and throbbing with the rising orgasm. As Destiny hit me for the eighth and final time, the cum came arcing out and fell onto my upturned face.

“Bingo!” she said.

The creamy fluid was still pumping out of my dick when the door to the room opened behind me and someone came in.

“Hi, Ray,” Destiny said. “Mr. Diamond didn’t want to hang around, but I convinced him to stay and talk to you.”

“Thanks, kid,” a male voice said.

The guy walked across the room and stood next to the table so that I could see him.

“How you doing, Dan?” he asked.

I knew him, but I didn’t know him as Ray Man or Man Ray or Faye Wray or anything like that. I knew him pretty well, actually, but I wished I didn’t.

It was Nicky Balls.

* * * * * * * * *

NEXT: There once was a man from Dundee.

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