Saul Kramer plugged
his Gauloise into the pile of butts in the ashtray and scratched pensively at
the two-day growth on his chin. The man
sitting across the desk from him was silent now, waiting for an answer and Saul
couldn’t decide whether or not to take the case. There was something not quite right about the
man’s story, something left untold. He
swung his chair round to face the window and stared out through the grimy glass
at the bleak London skyline. The
intercom buzzed on his desk and he reached across to answer.
“Would you like some
coffee now, Mr Kramer?”
“Yeah, good idea,
bring some in.”
He released the
button and swung his broad shoulders back around to face the client. Beneath Saul’s heavy frame the chair creaked
as if it might collapse at any moment and send the hulking private investigator
sprawling across the worn carpet of his tatty office.
“What I don’t
understand, Mr Towers,” he said.
“Please,” the other
man interrupted, “Call me Ron.”
“OK. Ron it is.
What I don’t understand, Ron, is why you don’t go to the police with
this. It’s a cut-and-dried case of
kidnapping and if what you say is correct, slave trading too.”
The office door swung
open and Saul’s secretary, Kitty, walked in carrying a tray. She put it down on the desk and began to pour
coffee from a stainless-steel pot into two cups. Ron Towers glanced briefly at the staid-looking
young woman in the knee-length plaid dress and horn-rimmed spectacles. With her long brown hair tied back in a
ponytail and her black lace-up shoes Ron thought she looked like a librarian
and gave her no further consideration.
“I can’t take this to
the police,” he said. “They’d ask too
many questions. You see, up to three
months ago I was Carlos’ partner. That’s
why he’s doing this to me. When I found
out just what it was we were exporting I bailed out and this is Carlos’ way of
punishing me for that.” He ran his hand
nervously through his slicked-back hair and straightened his tie. “The police would never believe I knew
nothing about the women. I’d end up
doing time myself, for Christ’s sake.”
Kitty passed him a cup and he sipped the strong black coffee. “Will you take the job or do I have to find
somebody else?” he demanded, the tone of his voice growing harsh.
Unimpressed by this
display of anger, Saul lit another cigarette and drank some coffee, giving
himself time to think. Finally he made
his decision and as he did he knew that, in reality,
there was no choice - business was slow and he couldn’t afford to turn away any
client. Least of all one as rich as
“Pull up a chair,
Kitty,” he said. “Take down some
details. We’re working for Mr Towers
Towers sighed with
relief and smiled.
“It’ll be two hundred
a day plus expenses,” Saul added. “And
I’ll start tomorrow. We’ll get your wife
back, Ron, don’t worry about that.”
An hour later Ron
Towers climbed into a cab outside the offices of Kramer Investigations and
disappeared into the London rush-hour traffic.
Upstairs Saul Kramer leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers
behind his head. He was smiling broadly.
“Lock her up, Kitty,”
he said. “I think we’ve done enough business
for the day.”
Smiling to herself,
the secretary stood up, placed her notepad on her seat and went downstairs to
turn the sign around and lock the front door.
When she returned Saul was pouring a glass of Scotch from a bottle he kept
in the lower drawer of his desk. She
closed the office door behind her and removed her spectacles, placing them on
the top shelf of a battered grey steel filing cabinet beside the doorway. Then she loosened her hair, kicked off her
shoes and waited, motionless in her black stockinged feet on the worn
carpet. Saul watched her, saying
nothing, sipping his whisky. He allowed
his gaze to drift across the hem of her plaid dress, up over the shapeless
garment to her neck, where the dress was buttoned all the way to her throat and
on to her blushing face and dark sultry eyes.
She avoided his stare, gazing down at a fixed point on the floor,
“Take it off,” Saul
rushed to her neck and began to undo the dress, fluttering clumsily around the
buttons, working downward until the garment gaped open to her waist and she was
able to shrug it off so that it slipped silently to the floor. She kicked the dress to one side and again
waited motionless while Saul examined her body.
He watched the pale
flesh of her arms goose-bump in the warm office and marvelled, as always, at
the powerful tides of submission that buffeted this woman. Her large firm breasts, bulging over the cups
of her black satin bra, rose and fell gently as her breathing grew heavy with
lust. He felt his cock rising in his
trousers. She wore matching panties and
suspender belt and he could see from across the office that the crotch of her
underwear was already damp with her juices.
“Come here,” he
She walked across to
him and stopped beside the desk.
swivelling on the balls of her feet so that she had her back to her boss. Saul
reached up and unclasped her bra. He
flicked it from her shoulders and the flimsy black satin fell to the floor at
Kitty turned to face
him and Saul stared up into her perfectly round tight orbs with their tiny
puckered nipples and smiled. He took
another drink of his whisky, leaning back in his chair so that he could
appreciate her fit smooth body in its entirety and then he slowly placed his
glass down on the desk.
“The coffee was too
strong,” he said quietly.
“Have I told you
about that before?”
“Yes, Mr Kramer.”
“So I’ve told you
before and still you make it too strong.”
Kitty whimpered and
“I’m sorry, Mr
Kramer,” she said. “It won’t happen
Suddenly Saul’s hand
shot out, the palm flat and hard as a board and slapped across his secretary’s
naked breasts. She shrieked in pained
surprise as her fine round tits shook violently from side to side. Saul watched the imprint of his hand redden
on her pale flesh.
“That’s not good
enough,” he said. “When I tell you to do
something, you do it. Understand?”
Saul slapped her
again, harder this time so that she stumbled backwards and nearly fell from the
force of the blow. She caught herself
and returned to her position beside him, chewing her lower lip and stifling a
“Bend over,” he
said. “I intend to teach you a lesson in
Kitty bent at the waist
and pressed the upper half of her body down against the cold wooden surface of
the desk, crossing her wrists in the small of her back. Saul rose and stepped around behind her. He stroked his hand gently over the satin
smoothness of her panties, feeling the muscled roundness of her buttocks. Then he tugged the underwear down to her
ankles and left her, walking across the office to the filing cabinet. Jumbled together in the bottom drawer was a
selection of whips, harnesses and restraints.
He removed a riding crop and a set of steel handcuffs and returned to
where his secretary stood, bent across his desk. The shaved rounded prominence of her vulva
was clearly visible between her thighs and Saul dipped his hand to the moist
slit and ran a finger up and down between her slippery labia. She moaned quietly. He pulled one of her suspenders away from her
buttock and let it go so that it pinged back against the skin. She was silent. Saul grasped her wrists and fastened the
steel cuffs around them. Then he took a
step back and raised the crop into the air.
“I’m waiting,” he
In a voice weak with
a heady mixture of fear and lust, Kitty asked for her punishment.
“Please whip me,
sir,” she said.
The crop whistled as
it scythed through the air and there was a loud crack as the tight leather
lacing struck the skin across her buttocks.
Kitty screamed. A thin red weal
rose on her pale flesh; a bright line across the myriad other, duller scars
left by previous beatings. Saul’s cock
was like an iron rod now and he felt the throbbing grow in its head and the
ache in his balls intensify as he raised the crop once more. He whipped her again, the leather meeting the
line left on her flesh perfectly and wrenching a loud howl of agony from
Kitty’s contracting lungs.
“How many do you
want?” he said.
sobbed. “Please give me ten, sir.”
“Ten it is,” Saul
laughed and brought the crop slashing down again.
After the fifth
stroke he paused to remove his shirt, already damp with his exertions in the
hot office and then continued more violently than before, wanting her to beg
for mercy before he stopped.
It was after six and
there was nobody in the adjoining offices to hear the vicious crack of leather
on flesh and the accompanying screams.
Nobody to hear the pleading and the uncontrollable sobbing but if there
had been, they would have turned away and gone about their business, for this
building was down in the dungeons of London’s commercial world. Discretion was the watchword here: faces went
unseen, conversations unheard. In this
world nobody saw or heard anything unless they were being paid to - and even
then there were other allegiances, loyalties to codes of conduct that were
above the rule of money.
Saul dropped the
riding crop on the floor and ran his hand over the fresh red weals, sliding his
thumb roughly along the sore raised flesh.
Kitty was crying quietly, the tears pooling on the desk beneath her
face. He pulled her upright by a handful
of her thick dark hair and looked into her face. She was at her most beautiful after a
whipping. Her eyes grew even darker and
more liquid than usual and her eyelashes, weighted by the dampness of her
tears, appeared longer and more definitively feminine. Even the blotching of her cheeks seemed to
add to, rather than detract from, her beauty.
Holding her tightly by her hair with one hand he reached up with the
other and pinched her nipple, watching her eyes for a reaction. There was none so he squeezed harder and
slowly they widened. Saul smiled,
enjoying the effect the mild pain was having on her body. Then he released her, spun her around and
unlocked the handcuffs.
“Get under the hook,”
In the ceiling,
halfway between the front of Saul’s wide wooden desk and the door was a steel
hook. Saul had screwed it through the
plaster and into the joist himself, a long time ago when he had first taken the
office. Kitty stood beneath this hook,
breathing heavily. Both nipples, with
their tiny, puckered aureole, were solidly erect and the holes where she had
been pierced were clearly visible in the pink flesh. She was still wearing her suspender belt and
stockings. Saul opened the lower drawer
of the filing cabinet again and took out a black leather sleeve designed to
receive a person’s two arms with hands clasped together and to lace around them
in such a way that it could not possibly be removed by the wearer. He also selected a short length of nylon rope
and then closed the drawer.
Kitty intertwined her
fingers as if in prayer and extended her arms out straight before her. Saul slipped the tough leather sleeve over
them and laced it to her elbows, pulling the cords tight so that no movement
was possible inside the strange garment.
At the end farthest from her body a steel ring passed through the
leather and Saul poked one end of the nylon rope through this ring and tied it
back on itself tightly. Then he tossed
the other end of the rope over the hook in the ceiling and pulled down, raising
Kitty’s bound arms above her head. Saul yanked
it tighter until his secretary was teetering on the tips of her toes and then
he crossed to the wall where a metal cleat was bolted and he wrapped off
several figures of eight to hold the rope in place.
Now almost all of
Kitty’s weight was supported by the leather sleeve around her arms. Saul stood in front of her stretched body,
stroking her goose-pimpled flanks, running his hand down her arms, letting his
thumbs trail into her armpits, down her ribcage, feeling her slim, drawn-in
stomach, then moving back up to her breasts, riding high on her chest and on
over her face and pausing there, the palm of his hand resting gently over her
mouth and nose, his fingers touching lightly on her closed eyelids.
“Tell me, Kitty,” he
said quietly. “How much do I have to
hurt you before you’ll learn to do a simple thing like make the coffee
Tears seeped from
beneath his fingers and ran down her cheeks.
She opened her mouth and he felt her hot breath against the palm of his
“I don’t know, Master,”
she said. “Please make me learn.”
Saul stepped away and
went around to the other side of his desk.
He rummaged in one of the drawers until he found a tall tapering red
candle and then he took that and his cigarette lighter back to where his
secretary was hanging from the ceiling.
He lit the candle and held it an angle in front of her face and waited
while the tip warmed up and began to drip onto the carpet. Then he moved closer to her body and the
red-hot drops of molten wax began to splash onto her breasts, bursting on her
nipples like hellish raindrops and spattering across her stomach in tiny
explosions of liquid fire. Kitty began
to scream, frantically trying to twist and turn away from the onslaught of agony
and yelling her pleas for mercy through a mouth stretched wide by terror and
“Please God, no
more. Oh Master, it hurts so much! Please have mercy on me! I will try harder, I promise. I will do better. Please, God, stop this pain!”
Saul was pleased by
her reaction and continued to direct the drops of molten wax on to Kitty’s
writhing body. As the wax cooled it
solidified, leaving large red patches on her pale skin and he knew that later
the act of peeling these from her body would cause her a great deal more pain
and soreness. Finally he grew bored with
this treatment and blew the candle out and released the rope from around the
cleat on the wall. Kitty collapsed to
her knees and Saul untied the other end of the rope from the ring on the leather
sleeve but left the sleeve itself in place.
She looked up into his eyes, her face damp with tears, her
mascara-stained cheeks blotched and her lower lip quivering.
he said. “You look like a drunken
Kitty flopped forward
onto her elbows and pressed her face to her boss’s dusty shoes.
“No, please, don’t
say that. I’m sorry,” she moaned. “Please don’t send me away.”
“You know, Kitty,”
Saul continued. “I want to fuck
you. I really do. But I can’t stand the sight of your miserable
face. What do you think we can do about
Kitty knew exactly
what Saul was talking about and her pleading became more frantic.
Not that. Please master. I’ll clean myself up. I’ll make myself look beautiful again. Don’t make me do that.” Her tongue shot out and began to lick across
the tops of his shoes, leaving wide damp marks on the brown leather. Saul stepped back.
“Get up,” he
ordered. Crying, Kitty obeyed. “Open the window.” She walked behind the desk and struggled to
raise the sash window with her arms still bound together in front of her
body. Eventually she succeeded, getting
her leather-wrapped clenched double fist beneath the frame and lifting with all
her strength until the window slid upwards.
When it was done she looked over her shoulder. Saul was behind her, sitting on the edge of
the desk, his muscular chest pumping up and down as he watched her.
“Go on,” he
said. Kitty hesitated from the briefest
of moments, long enough to see her boss’s expression darken and then she ducked
through the open window.
Kitty had a
deep-seated fear of heights and the office of Kramer Investigations was on the
second floor. She poked first her bound
arms, then her head and finally her naked chest through the window and then
stopped, dropping to her knees in the office so that her belly rested on the
sill and she was half in and half out of the building. Thirty feet below her, the cobbled backyard
of the office blew with scraps of newspaper and discarded burger wrappers. She whimpered with terror, her mouth dry and
her pulse pounding in her ears. If
anybody walking past in the park beyond the yard had looked up they would have
been astounded to see the sobbing naked woman with her bushy dark hair hanging
around her face and her arms bound together in black hanging beneath her
Behind her, Saul slid
the window back down so that it rested on her back, trapping her, and undid his
trousers to release his monstrous cock.
Without hesitation he rammed into her vagina, pushing through her
sopping labial lips with one powerful thrust.
Through the glass he watched Kitty’s head fly upwards as she stifled her
scream. He pulled halfway out and pumped
into her again.
As he worked her
squirming body the pressure built in his balls and he felt his orgasm rising
from the depths of his loins. He pounded
into her faster and faster, his slab of stomach muscle slamming against her
bruised buttocks, knocking her thighs against the sill and grazing the skin
from her back where the weight of the window rested. At last he came, spurting great gushes of
spunk into her sopping pussy, ramming in and out of her in a frenzied rape that
ended only when he was completely spent.
He pulled out, wiped the purple end of his cock on her buttocks, slid
the window up and slumped back into his chair, his trousers still around his
ankles. Kitty slipped back onto the
floor of the office, sobbing. She turned
so that she was sitting, leaning back against the wall and Saul extended his
foot so that the sole of his shoe pressed between her open legs. Full of shame, she humped herself against the
rough, gritty leather, her mouth wide open and her eyes staring and empty. When she came, her orgasm squeezed a liquid
mixture of her own juices and Saul’s spunk out onto the carpet and her body
trembled and shuddered beneath the rolling impact of the waves of ecstasy.
Saul reached down and
lazily loosened the laces holding the leather cuff around Kitty’s arms. Once released, she immediately pushed herself
forward onto her hands and knees and crawled between his open legs so that she
could clean him. He sat, waiting for her to finish, enjoying the sensation of
her warm tongue licking around his cock and balls, cleaning away the spunk and
pussy-juice and he thought about Ron Towers and decided that he trusted him
just about as far as Kitty would be able to throw him.