Deviant Intent: OBSESSION Page 4

  But, I had a job to do.

  “Consider it done, Sir,” I snapped the phone shut.

  ~Five~

  I needed to finish this thing with peaches before the night got away from me. It was a short trip from where I was at that moment, so now was as good a time as any.

  peaches lived near downtown in the SWATS. That’s the nickname for the southwest part of Atlanta near downtown for those that weren’t from the ‘A’. It’s not the best of places to live, but there were still proud people in that area.

  The security door of the apartment was broken, so I just walked up to peaches’ apartment and knocked

  on the door.

  “Who is it?” was the muffled reply from behind the door.

  “It’s Dominic, peaches. I found your Master.”

  She was at least smart enough to have chains on the door and it took her a minute to let me in. I walked into the apartment and took a look around while peaches secured the door behind me.

  It was a studio apartment, which was a nice of way of saying it was just a large room. Not all that large, to be honest. A mattress in the corner was apparently peaches’ bed. A fairly nice computer set-up was on the floor against the wall opposite the bed. The kitchen had originally been separated from the living area by a counter, but that had been removed. At least the bathroom was cordoned off. Except for a closet that was closed, that was everything.

  Everything except for the cameras…

  They were all over the place.

  Web cams mounted on the ceiling in every corner, another one on the computer and, I walked over and saw one above the shower. I turned around to ask peaches about the set up and saw her for the first time.

  This definitely was not the group munch, not with what she had on?

  peaches was wearing leather cuffs at her wrists and ankles and a choke-chain around her throat. She was barefoot, which was saying a lot considering the condition of the floor.

  Nothing else; she was completely naked.

  She was kneeling on the floor in front of me with her legs spread apart and her palms were face up, resting against her thighs. It’s a common display position for a submissive to be put in; I’d seen this before, considering the protocol that has to be adhered to at the Palace. It was something I liked, and I couldn’t help that at all. I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation though, not with the news I was bringing.

  “You may speak, slave peaches.”

  “Thank You, Sir,” she replied, eyes still affixed on the floor, “You said You’d found Master?”

  I sighed; this wasn’t going to be easy.

  It never was.

  “I think I found Him, peaches. I’m going to have to wait for the coroner to make a positive identification, but I’m pretty sure it’s Him. He’s dead, peaches. I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” I braced for the range of emotions that usually come when you told a person that someone dear to them had been killed, but I was unprepared for what happened next.

  I had expected her to cry, but I hadn’t expected her to do so silently. Her body shook with silent sobs and it took me a minute to realize she was trying to stay disciplined.

  That shocked me.

  I couldn’t really conceive of someone that far into the protocol. Then I remembered the web cams and started putting a few ideas together. Walking over to peaches I squatted down next to her.

  “Your Master is gone, slave,” I sternly stated. “I command you to take the next ten minutes to grieve.”

  The floodgates opened up then.

  She wailed and sobbed like the women’s chorus at a Baptist funeral. I just held her for considerably more than the ten minutes that I’d ‘commanded’ of her. It is one of life’s gifts, however, that there is only so much crying you can do; so she eventually stopped. Of course I learned from Ramesses that in dealing with a slave, once you solve a problem, two more will crop up.

  peaches did not disappoint.

  “What do i do now, Sir?” she sniffled.

  Well how the bloody hell should I know? I thought to myself. I was annoyed with her because I don’t particularly like clingy, helpless women. peaches proved to be one of those women in a big way. So much so, in fact, that I was a little bit worried about her.

  “Let’s talk about that, peaches,” I said, more as a way to stall for time than anything else. “Is there someplace I can sit comfortably here?”

  “Master keeps... kept a chair in the closet, Sir. But i don’t have the key to it.”

  “Would you like Me to open the door, peaches?” I asked.

  What little I could see of her down turned face suggested she was shocked by the question. I was growing more convinced that peaches had been broken, that decision-making capability had been beaten out of her.

  “peaches, your Master is gone and, at least for a little while, you’re going to have to make some decisions for yourself,” I said gently.

  “Tell me what to do, Sir,” she whispered with pleading eyes. “Please.”

  I decided to switch tactics, knowing that I was taking a real chance. I hadn’t planned on being in this situation, especially when I was still learning. “I just did you inattentive bitch. Is this how your Master disciplined you? you leave a Dominant standing and uncomfortable due to your poor manners?”

  She cringed under the lash of my softly spoken words and then threw herself forward, head to my feet.

  “Forgive me, Sir, please forgive me. Will You open the closet and make Yourself comfortable?” she quickly adjusted.

  The closet was a Dominant’s dream come true. Floggers. Chains. Toys of all sorts. There was a camp chair which I pulled out and sat down on.

  “This is a nice set-up you have here, peaches. How much does your website clear in a month?”

  “Oh, it’s not my website, Sir, or my apartment for that matter. Master allowed me to live here and earn my keep.”

  “Do the cameras have sound capability, peaches?”

  “Yes, Sir, but the sound is turned off right now. I’m only allowed to turn the pick-ups on when

  Master comes over or when one of His friends visits,” peaches answered.

  Honestly, I was torn between showing disdain for peaches for being so stupid and feeling sorry for her that she’d been so badly victimized. I settled for showing contempt for Aris, and at least I hadn’t blurted out the fact of his death on the internet.

  I’d rather keep my cushy position instead…

  “Do you have any friends or family you can call peaches?” Please, God, let her have friends and family.

  “Not really, Sir,” she replied, slowly shaking her head. “Master didn’t permit me to have many outside contacts.”

  She went on to justify Aris’ controlling behavior, but I was too incensed to listen. His behavior was out and out abusive. Yes, the healed scars on peaches’ body showed that she enjoyed abuse, but sometimes in a D/s or M/s relationship, the Dominant or Master should exercise better judgment.

  I realized that peaches had gone quiet, “Do you have food, peaches?”

  “Not really, Sir. Master always brought the food i was permitted to eat and I’m almost out.”

  I took my report, and my bill, out of a pocket and dropped them on the floor. Then I pulled out two hundred of the money she’d given me and dropped that on top of the report. “You paid Me for two hours of work and My expenses. I was able to finish My work in about half an hour and My expenses were slight. you are going to need this money more than I am, and I want you to use it to buy some groceries. Today or tomorrow you’re going to have a lot of visitors; the police are going to want to ask you questions about your former Master. I’m going to speak with Lord Ramesses or Mistress Sin about getting you a lawyer for when you talk to the police. I also want you to talk to a friend of the House of Kemet Ka that will help you sort out your choices now that your Master is gone.”

  It wasn’t much; hell it wasn’t even everything I could do at that moment. But it was a st
art.

  I got the website address from her but I left the computer equipment alone; I wanted the digital forensics team to handle that stuff. The chair went back into the closet and I locked that up, after I’d taken a look in the kitchen to be certain there weren’t any knives or anything else that peaches might be able to use to cause any harm to herself.

  I found the building supervisor’s apartment down on the first floor. He was a very heavy, very short black man.

  “Apartment 3G,” I said, holding up a twenty dollar bill. “Who pays for it?”

  He shrugged, “It’s all done on computers; Pucci Entertainment or something like that. They make sex films, I think. They keep the actresses in the apartment during filming.”

  That was interesting. “Actresses? How many women have lived there?”

  He looked meaningfully at the twenty so I handed it over.

  “Ten, maybe eleven, I think,” he said. “This one’s been there for a month.”

  “Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.”

  Ten?

  That was both interesting and disturbing. I walked out into the parking lot and dialed a number on my phone.

  “Ramesses…”

  “Go ahead, Dom.”

  “I just talked with peaches and gave her the news about Aris. she’s worse off than he is. He’s got her in a studio in the SWATS wired with internet cameras. She doesn’t get paid for this, not even when one of Aris’ friends comes over,” I was getting angrier by the second. “she’s completely lost the ability to make decisions on her own and he cut her off from all her friends and family.”

  “Is she still at the studio?” Ramesses queried.

  “Yeah, and it looks like He did this to several other women. The good news here is that we might be able to spin this guy as a professional pornographer, not a lifestyle Dominant,” I advised. We needed to nip this quick. “But if the newspapers get hold of peaches it’ll be bad. she needs a lawyer at her apartment immediately. And someone who understands the lifestyle and can order her to cooperate with these folks.”

  “You ain’t said but a word, Dom. I’ll check the KAPs here in Atlanta and see what I can come up

  with,” he smoothly said over the earpiece.

  By KAPs, he meant kink-aware professionals affiliated with the National Coalition of Sexual Freedom, or NCSF, that have a specialty in dealing with those that deal in the alternative lifestyles.

  “You’re gonna need to get people out there now or I’m going to be forced to call My contact at the police department and tell her that peaches is a suicide risk,” I knew I overstepped my parameters, but he brought me in for a reason.

  There was a long moment of silence before he replied. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’ll call Sin so She can get in touch with the KAPs that the NCSF might have to recommend. I understand Your desire to protect submissives, Dom, which is why I brought you in. Now, get some sleep, the weekend’s coming.”

  Then he ended the call.

  ~Six~

  It looked like it was going to be a busy weekend.

  Fridays were usually mine to recover from the business week before cranking up the energy to deal with the activities that might be going on. Depending on the weekend, it would either be the Palace hosting the big event, or Liquid. Sometimes, the weekends collide, which can be nightmarish if I don’t coordinate things properly. Thankfully, this was not one of those weekends.

  I stopped by my office to check in and regroup before heading back out for the evening.

  My office has a smaller reception area where my secretary, Ayanna, received clients before sending them to me. The main office room was the larger of the connected rooms, and we kept in direct connection with each other either by instant messages or by the intercoms between the two rooms.

  Ayanna was one of Ramesses’ familiars, which was a way to describe submissives and slaves that were friends of the House of Kemet Ka. A lot of them were employed at the Palace and at Liquid in various capacities, mainly because they are familiar with the community. Considering the type of clientele that we dealt with, it helped to have those that you didn’t have to ‘explain’ the finer points to.

  Ayanna and I always maintained a relationship that could border on the sexual harassment “naughty” list. There would be days where we would tease each other into a complete fury, and other days where it would simply be another pleasant day at the office. We had scened once or twice, but stopped after I became her boss.

  I’m not going to lie though; we have done some rather nasty things in my office, even as boss and employee.

  Yeah, I know, so sue me. She’s a dimepiece, and I am a man, right?

  “How are things, Ayanna? Any calls?” I asked her, noticing the halter top and skirt that she wore today.

  “Sir, Detective Reddick is here to see you,” my secretary Ayanna told me, pointing at Natasha over in the corner.

  I nodded in Natasha’s direction and motioned for her to join me in the office.

  Natasha followed me into the office, and I noticed that this time she was a bit more casual, more informal. She wore pants and a blouse this time, no doubt because she was a bit more on the move today with work, I’d guessed. My former partner Niki did the same thing.

  I made a note to follow up with Niki on the Aris murder on Monday while it was on my mind.

  “We found this in the vic… I mean in Sherrie’s effects,” Natasha showed me a business card, trying to be a bit more sensitive around me concerning this case. It was definitely appreciated.

  Upon looking at the card, I didn’t exactly like what I saw. I knew about her fetish tendencies, but this took me aback. But I knew I needed to take my emotions out of this case; I wouldn’t find the killer unless I did.

  “What is it?” Natasha asked me.

  “It’s a business card, from a club called Club Coquette.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I have it right here.”

  If I was honest with myself, I shouldn’t have been totally surprised. Club Coquette was a club for voyeurs and swingers.

  “We should check it out,” Natasha suggested. “It’s our only lead.”

  I agreed; this might be a lead that might take us in the direction that we need to go in. You never know

  how leads pan out, and no matter what, they have to be exhausted.

  “Yeah, we need to follow this thread, see how far it will go,” Natasha said. “Great, I’ll get the car and a photograph to pass around.”

  Natasha was gung ho to go, but I had to stop her in her tracks quick before she blows the case.

  “No.”

  “No?” she queried.

  “The kinds of people in these clubs, they treasure their privacy. They don’t want to have the idea that law enforcement is on an undercover sting, asking questions. The best thing we can do is observe the place, lay low, see what develops from there.”

  Natasha gave me a quizzical look, as if she didn’t want to believe me. But she really didn’t have any choice in the matter because I was the more learned law enforcement personnel in these types of matters.

  “So, you want to meet here in your office, say, a couple of hours from now? Then we can head over?” Natasha suggested after pondering a few more moments.

  “It’s a date.”

  Ninety minutes later…

  I returned to my office, decided on a dark blue jean coat, black fitted shirt, matching jeans and a pair of Lugz boots. I put on the bling as well; everything laced in diamonds and platinum over silver, from my wrists and fingers, to my ears and neck. I decided that it was better to showcase a little bit; sometimes you have to look the part of the upscale crowd, but then again, my mood wasn’t upscale tonight.

  Natasha arrived about ten minutes after I did, and upon buzzing her in, I was definitely impressed with what she decided on wearing.

  Thigh high mini-skirt, black in color…

  Matching halter top…

  Three inch blocked he
els, strappy in style, and showing off her feet as well.

  The halter top left her mid-riff exposed and was cut low, so that her breasts were pushing near the top. Her hair long and flowing, no longer in the tight bun that I was accustomed to seeing her wear when we were conducting business.

  Technically we still were conducting business, but…

  Damn… she gave new meaning to the term dressed to kill…

  I guess I’m glad I did leave my old precinct; I would have gotten fired over this woman. The outfit was showing off curves and a beautiful pair of legs and an ass that her ‘detective attire’ hid very well.

  “No place for my gun,” she stated with a grin and a wink.

  “You won’t need it, Detective. They’d be checking for weapons at the door.”

  Without another word, I pulled a move that Natasha didn’t expect. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into me, grabbing her ass through the skirt that she was wearing. It was then that I realized that she wasn’t wearing any panties, thong or g-string, either. I looked in her eyes as my mouth opened hers and our tongues pushing in toward each other. I knew it was a risk, but it was the only way that I could loosen her up.

  I felt her resisting me, slapping my hand away from her ass, but I persisted. Slowly but surely I feel her body melt into mine. Our kissing slowed, and then began to build faster as her breasts pressed against my chest. I inhaled her scent, and her perfume were completely intoxicating, to say the least. A few seconds

  passed before she broke from the embrace.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice cracking. I could tell that the kiss affected her, but I had to make her understand.

  “This is a swingers’ environment, we have to be completely comfortable together,” I had to explain before I found a hand print across my face. “You have to be willing to do things of a sexual nature that they surely did not cover in the academy. If you flinch, or are hesitant, we will lose the lead. Understood?”

  Natasha looked to the ground, not in shame, but in trying to hide the excitement running through her body.

  “Yes,” she replied, “I understand.”