A Locked Room Mystery

A Locked Room

Mystery

By

Akkano

**********

Flashback-Two

Ms Marina looked up from her chair.

"Hello, John. I see you are on time again. You are a fast learner. Strip off your outer clothes."

John removed his trousers and shirt, once again exposing his wife's soiled underwear he had been instructed to wear as Ms Marina looked at him approvingly.

"Very good. Come and besides me on the sofa."

John wondered what kind of deviltry she had cooked up for him today but did as she asked just the same and placed himself next to her. Today, however, Ms Marina seemed to be in an amorous mood – though she did move swiftly to imprison his hands at his back with a pair of handcuffs. This she followed by tying his feet together.

"Don't be scared, my pet."

So saying, she took him in her arms and started kissing him, her lips moving all over his face which was soon dripping with her saliva. She pried open his lips with her own and inserted her thick tongue into his mouth. Soon, she was invading his mouth to explore each and every

nook and cranny of its interior.

John was beginning to get aroused. However, she started transferring saliva into his mouth and John was grossed out. Her secretions gathered up in his mouth and he was forced to swallow repeatedly. Finally she started spitting faster than he could swallow and her saliva

overflowed his mouth and began dribbling down the sides of his mouth and onto his chin.

John started to have difficulty breathing and he began to choke on her spit. Ms Marina disengaged from his face and ended the kiss as John continued to sputter and attempted to suck in air.

She was not done, however.

As soon as John was breathing normally, she invaded his mouth again; despite his attempts to keep his mouth closed. With his hands cuffed at his back though, Ms Marina simply held his nose with her fingers until he opened his mouth to breath and slipped the thick slimy invader into his mouth. Again she allowed her tongue free access to the moist interior.

Suddenly, she changed the angle of penetration slightly to bear down hard and John could feel her upper tooth bite into his upper lip. As the sadistic kiss continued, the pain steadily increased until it was sheer agony. Tears of pain started flowing down his cheeks and he

struggled to get free. But it was useless, with his hands and feet tied together he was powerless to resist her attentions.

Resigning himself to the situation as far as he could, he relaxed and started responding to her kiss.

After a long time, Mistress Marina was satisfied and she abruptly withdrew, allowing a large deposit of her spit to fly from his mouth and land on his chest. It was the least of John’s problems as his tongue gingerly touched the spot where she had pricked his lip with her tooth. It hurt and he could taste the raw, metallic taste of blood.

If her intention was to repulse and disgust, he told himself, she had totally succeeded.

"It was good for me; I hope it was for you." she chuckled.

"I have a present for you, sissy. In my skirt. Here, feel it."

John felt under her skirt with his hand and got the shock of his life. She was wearing a huge strap on. Realizing what she had in mind he pleaded with her:

"Please don't, Ms Marina."

The simple request enraged her and she slapped him. Hard.

"Did I ask your opinion, bitch?" she hissed at him.

He fell cowed and silent and hoped her rage would pass, so intimidated had he grown in her presence.

And in so short a space of time.

"Well, you are going to take what is coming to you and you are going to like it. You are going to experience how it feels like to be raped. You have been metaphorically raping others all this time,and it is about time you found out what it feels like."

She tore off the underclothes he was wearing.

"You seem to be going through a lot of your wife's underwear lately,” she said with a nasty laugh. “I wonder what she thinks of it?"

"Come on, let us go to bed."

“Look, er, Ms Marina, can't we talk?"

"No time for it, it is time to have sex. What is the matter with you, any normal, red blooded man with jump at the chance when a beautiful woman like me wants to go to bed with him."

He was now completely naked. She tied up his feet to the bedpost over his head, exposing his rosebud. His hands were pinned under his legs and he felt totally vulnerable. Fully clothed, she got on top of him and started kissing him passionately. The only passion however, was aggression. Domination. The tongue probing kisses themselves represented a kind of assault and she started to maul his non existent breasts viciously, leaving scratches and nail marks behind.

"Maybe I should get you breast implants, sissy. That way I will have something to maul." Finally she stood up near his face and brought her strap on to his lips.

"Kiss Mr. Violator."

To his eternal shame, he did so without a fight, his acquiescence emboldening her still further.

"Now suck on it, you son of a bitch, and suck it well. Remember, your own saliva is all the lubrication you are going to get, so you better make a thorough job of it.”

John tried to lubricate the strap on as best he could.

"Enough!" Ms Marina barked.

She kneeled with her knees on both sides of him and appeared thoughtful. "Well,” she said finally, having reached a decision, “as I am feeling generous today I will give you more lubrication."

Ordering him to present his rear, she spat generously into his asshole and worked the saliva in with the tip of her strap on. Despite this, however, it was with some difficulty and no small effort that she managed to work the strap on half an inch into his asshole. Then, with one mighty and powerful shove, she penetrated his ass fully.

Unbearable agony took hold of John and he screamed in pain as he felt his ass tissue tearing.

Ms Marina slapped him viciously.

"Shut your pie hole, bitch."

John started screaming even louder, his pain and terror beyond reach of verbal displeasure.

"Shit," she muttered.

As he continued to scream, she bent down, pressed her lips upon his and started kissing him, inserting her tongue deep into his mouth to stifle his screams.

Gradually, her tongue and her strap-on established a sort of rhythm. In and out, in and out, both went in sync. John's screams reduced to whimpers, silenced by her mouth. This went on for a while. Once John passed out with agony, only to be revived again by the same pain and accompanying mental anguish.

Ms Marina kept on jack hammering. Fucking him relentlessly. She broke out in sweat due to the effort, and her sweat started dripping on to John's body as he closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to block out the pain, the agony and the smell of her sweat from his mind. He was in sheer Hell, knowing that, if there ever was one, this surely must be it. The strap on was a double-dildo, and the smaller part of the dildo was buried inside Ms Marina's vagina.

As she kept fucking John, stroke by stroke, she was getting aroused at the same time. Soon she reached a devastating orgasm followed by a glorious climax. It was while climaxing that, by chance and without meaning to, she happened to touch John's prostate.

His reaction amazed them both.

John's whole body shuddered and he had the best climax of his life, depositing his load ineffectually on his thighs. After Ms Marina came down to earth, she unstrapped the strap on. Removing it from John's ass she threw it to the floor and untied John's hands and feet.

As she lay down on the bed by John's side and lit up a cigarette, John continued to sob and whimper. He could feel blood pouring from his torn ass and the pain was unbearable. However, unbelievably, it was also mixed with an incredible amount of pleasure.

Despite his considerable agony, he could do no more than acknowledge that the climax he had experienced was unlike anything he had experienced before. After a while John's whimpers subsided – though his asshole remained on fire – and he turned over, moved closer to the woman who had just raped him, violated him so cruelly, and, cuddled up to her; draping an arm over her body and snuggling close to her.

The soft words he heard cooing from his mouth seemed to him as if they came from the lips of a complete stranger:

"I love you, Ms Marina."

Above him, she was amused:

"Well, you were a good sissy today,” she told him, careful to remain derogatory towards him. “So I think my baby deserves a reward."

With that she blew smoke onto his face.

"Open your mouth sissy," she ordered, gratified to see the beaten man obey instantly. She tapped the ashes from her cigarette onto his tongue. Without being told, he swallowed them readily.

“Good boy.”

When her cigarette was finished she smiled at him expectantly:

"Open your mouth again, sissy."

She dropped the butt into his mouth.

"Chew it and swallow it."

He promptly chewed the tobacco and swallowed it.

She unbuttoned her blouse and raised one cup of her bra, exposing her breast. She took his face in her hand and brought her nipple close to his mouth. John didn't need any encouragement. He started sucking eagerly. He could smell the sweat on her body. He began to doze off while suckling on her breast. Soon both were asleep, for the night. John suckled on her large breast from time to time in his sleep.

**********

Chapter-Two

"Hello, Cheryl, I have all the test results."

"Well, come on over Bob, we’ll meet in the coffee shop in the lobby of our hotel. My treat."

While Cheryl and I ordered coffee, Bob ordered fruit punch.

"No coffee for you?"

"Sorry, Jane. But I am a Mormon. Our religion forbids coffee and tea."

"And also alcohol and nicotine." Cheryl chimed in.

"Quite,” he agreed, with what I took to be a rueful look.

“Anyway,” he went on, becoming businesslike, “the whisky did contain cyanide, as expected. Both in the glass fragments and in the decanter. However, it also contained a small amount of urea, and I don't know what to make of it. How would urea get into whiskey?"

Cheryl whistled. "I can think of one explanation, but it is totally outrageous."

"And that is?"

"Somebody pissed into the whisky."

"What?" Bob looked outraged, cheeks reddened with outrage at hearing such a proposition – and from the lips of a woman too.

"That is the simplest explanation as to how urea got into the whiskey."

"After so many years in this job, I thought I had seen everything,” he said, shaking his head at the possibility. “But this is totally bizarre. Why would anybody pee in another person’s drink? And from what I hear, it’s expensive stuff too, not exactly your ordinary run of the

mill whiskey."

"Indeed,” Cheryl agreed. “Blue Label is one of the more expensive whiskies. But I really cannot think of any other explanation."

"So you are telling me that not only did the murderer put cyanide into Mr. Longbottom's whiskey, but he…”

“Or ‘she’,” I interrupted.

“Or she,” he continued with a nod of acknowledgement, “also peed in it?"

"It certainly looks that way," Cheryl told him.

Our Sergeant looked thoughtful at this new development.

"That certainly confuses matters even more. In one sense it makes it more likely that it is indeed murder and not suicide. Unless Mr. Longbottom himself peed into his whiskey and then put the poison in it.”

“Precisely,” Cheryl agreed.

“And why would he have done that unless he was totally loopy."

“He most certainly was not that,” I assured him as Cheryl questioned him further.

"Was there urea in the other two glasses?"

"No, not a trace. Somebody must have peed in the whiskey after it was taken to Mr. Longbottom's room."

“What about fingerprints?”

“No luck there. The only fingerprints we found were the ones we would expect, those of John, his wife Heather, and the maid, Teresa. We would expect their fingerprints to be present. If Heather or Teresa is not the killer, the killer must have worn gloves.”

"What about the computers?"

"There was nothing in the laptop. Nothing useful, that is. There were the accounts he was working on, all completed and ready to be delivered. Some other business stuff."

"But the desktop was wiped totally clean, there was hardly anything on the desktop. And from what our computer expert tells me, it was an expert job too, it was not wiped out by an amateur. Our expert was able to recover very little, mostly meaningless fragments."

"Anything interesting in the fragments?"

"Well, fragments of spreadsheet, letters etc., nothing important. There was one fragment that looks interesting, however. It said 'Ms Marina thanks you for'…”

Cheryl and I shared a look.

“That was it," he finished, looking at us both quizzically as we shared knowing nods. “What is it?”

"The term ‘Ms’ implies a dominatrix," I enlightened him.

"I thought they preferred the term ‘Mistress’?” he asked.

This time it was Cheryl who answered:

“That’s correct. But these days the use of the word is considered somewhat… old hat. The word of choice for those who are not professional dominatrixes, or involved in some kind of organised role-play or the like, is ‘Ms’. It is intended to denote a relationship that is not based on the willing acquiescence of the male half of the partnership. The female half of this one-sided relationship is neither playing nor being paid for her efforts.”

“A dominatrix, in other words,” he stated, not seeing a difference.

“No, Sergeant. A dominatrix is somebody who dominates, tortures, and humiliates her client with that client's consent. There are some men who find this type of activity entertaining and she is paid handsomely for her efforts."

"So how does that help us?" he asked, still unconvinced it appeared.

"Well, if Mr. Longbottom was involved with a dominatrix, she may well piss into his whisky, as a punishment. Can you test for whether it was a man's piss or the piss of a woman?"

"I’ll have it checked.”

The Sergeant looked troubled:

“But you mean to say that in order to punish Mr. Longbottom, this dominatrix would spoil such an expensive bottle of whiskey?"

"And what makes you think that she would spoil it? Her sub, or client, probably would drink it even if she has pissed in it. He may even find it appealing that the whiskey has been sanctified by her piss. It would be, as she no doubt informed him, ‘an honour’."

"Please don't use words like sanctified, Cheryl,” he admonished her. “Not even in jest."

"Sorry, Bob. I didn't mean to offend you. Anyway, to you the whiskey may be… spoiled. But that may not have been the case for Mr. Longbottom; whether he was willing submissive or coerced into being so."

"But isn't drinking piss dangerous? It could lead to all kinds of diseases."

"Not really" Cheryl replied. "The urine of a normal, healthy person is totally germ free, totally sterile. In fact urine may be the only bodily fluid which does not contain any germs."

I recall marveling internally at this point, beaten as to where Cheryl managed to pick up such arcane snippets of information.

"So,” Bob continued, “we may possibly be able to connect the dots here.”

Another thought struck him.

“Oh, here is something else. We also found another significant phrase… 'darling Melody'…

He evidently was fooling around with somebody."

"Not somebody, Bob. Melody is his sister-in-law, his wife's younger sister. She was present the other day."

"Well, the plot thickens. Anyway, I am ready to start interviewing the witnesses. You coming?"

"Who first?"

"Let us start with George Forester. He is an entrepreneur, and has had some business dealings with Mr. Longbottom in the past. He also knows the Longbottoms socially.”

Not long after, we were doing just that.

I remembered George as a handsome man in his forties and he greeted us warmly.

“May I offer you a drink? Fruit juice, Pepsi, anything? Sorry, Miss Holmes, but no tea or coffee."

"But you have no problem with whiskey, I see."

"Well, I make an exception for whisky, especially whisky like the Blue Label."

Soon we were settled on his living room sofa.

"So, what can you tell us about Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Forester?" Bob quizzed him.

"Call me George. I have known John for some time now; we have had some business dealings in the past. I also know him socially and have been to his house many times."

"What kind of business dealings, George?" smiled Bob, putting the man at his ease.

Just the same, George hesitated.

"Remember, we can always check,” Bob reminded him in graver tones. “You will save us a lot of trouble if you tell us voluntarily."

"Well, to tell you the truth, there was no love lost between me and John. He outright swindled me in a business deal, I lost several thousand dollars."

"Then how come you are still on friendly terms with him?"

"Well, I am fortunate in that several thousand dollars is not that much money to me. Besides, his wife, Heather is simply a delightful person. Also, I am a bridge enthusiast, so are they. So we have kept friendly relations. But these days our contact is purely social, not business."

"So you did have a grudge against Mr. Longbottom?"

"You mean did I kill him? No, I didn't. Sure I resented him for swindling me. But as I said, it was not that big a hit for me. Certainly not enough to commit a murder. Besides, how did I introduce the poison into his whiskey? I never went anywhere near the damn whiskey."

"That is not quite true, George. When Heather was pouring whiskey from decanter into your glass, surely whisky was near to you. You could have slipped something in it without Heather noticing."

"Surely you don't believe that, Cheryl. Besides, I think Heather poured the whisky for her sister after she poured mine. If I had slipped cyanide into the whisky, her sister would be dead as well. Also, you were playing at the same table, remember? You or Jane could have seen me.”

"Well, we will cross that bridge later. Do you know of anybody who had a grudge against him, enough to kill him?"

"No, I don't. I don't think John was a nice man, but he wasn't enough of a bastard so that somebody would want to kill him. But of course, I could be wrong."

"Are you married, George?"

"Divorced, for two years now."

Have you heard of a Ms Marina?"

"Ms Marina? Can't say that I have. May I ask what this is in connection with?"

"Well, the name came up during investigations, she may be a material witness."

"No, I am sorry, I can't help you there."

Bob looked to Cheryl but a slight shaking of the head indicated she had nothing further to add.

"Thank you George,” Bob said.. “We will be in touch if we have any more questions."

When we made it outside into the crisp air, Bob was all purpose:

"Right,” he began, clapping his hands together. “Mistress Lilith is next."

The look Cheryl and I shared the same misgivings.

“Bob, if I may make a suggestion,” I said, knowing by now how my sweetheart worked and wishing to be of some service myself,.

“Mistress Lilith is a dominatrix and as such operates around the edges of the law. She may clam up if she sees you. Suppose Cheryl and I see her first and see what we can get out of her. She may well be more open with us females rather than a man. If Cheryl cannot get anywhere with her, you can always pay her a visit later."

Bob was already nodding in agreement.

"That sounds reasonable,” he agreed, again clapping his hands together. “Then we visit Miss Melody Finch next. I’ve already spoken with her and she knows we are coming."

As described earlier, Melody was the sister-in-law of the deceased and a young woman in her late twenties. A willowy, beautiful blonde. So beautiful, in fact, I remember George trying to hit on her the other day. Without success, I might add.

It was Bob who started the questioning.

"What do you do, Miss Finch?"

"Call me Melody. I am a student at University of Utah. I am in the final year of medical school."

"So from next year we call you Dr. Finch?"

"Hopefully, yes. Next year I will very likely leave Utah and find an internship elsewhere. I am also looking forward to moving into my own apartment. Currently I am sharing with another student."

"Well, what did you think of Mr. Longbottom?"

"He was all right, I suppose. I didn't really know him that well. Mostly I went to his home to visit my sister."

"Really, Melody? We have ways of checking, you know?” Bob told her. “Are you sure you didn't know him well? Intimately well"?

Her complexion paled.

"Oh, my God! You know! Please, for her sake, don't tell any of this to Heather,” she entreated us. “It will crush her.”

Her look became more imploring when she received no such assurance. “Please?"

It was Bob who took it up:

"All we are interested in, Miss Finch, is solving his murder. We don't care about anybody's sexual indiscretions. But we must have the truth. Did you have an affair with Mr. Longbottom?"

She almost swooned in her chair before collecting herself enough to answer.

"God, yes. How bitterly I regret it now. That was four years ago, I was an undergraduate at Brigham Young University in Provo. I was young and naive, and John was this suave, debonair older man. I had a crush on him and he exploited it to the fullest."

"How long did the affair last?"

"For less than a year. The crush soon wore off, and I realized he would never leave Heather for me. Not that I wanted him to, I didn't want to ruin my sister's life.It was a sorry episode in my life that I am trying to forget."

"Did you resent him enough to kill him?" Bob asked the obvious.

"When the affair ended, yes. I could have killed him then. But now I have moved on. Soon I will be a doctor, I have my whole life ahead of me. I had no reason to kill him."

"You decided not to do your medical degree at Brigham Young University?” Cheryl observed.

"BYU doesn't have a medical school. Even if they did, I wouldn't do medicine there. I found the atmosphere there too oppressive, too religious. I am not a good Mormon. My sister disapproves of my drinking. I didn't want to spend four more years in a Mormon institution.

Anyway, many students who do their undergraduate studies at BYU come to University of Utah for medical training."

"Your sister poured a drink in your glass and replaced the stopper in the decanter. Could she have slipped anything in the decanter before that?" Cheryl pressed her.

"Don't be absurd. Even apart from the fact that there is no conceivable reason for Heather to kill her husband, there is no way she could have slipped anything in the decanter.”

“How so?” asked Bob.

“My eyes were on the decanter when she was pouring and I am sure other players were also watching her. I just don't see her being able to slip anything in the decanter under the watchful eyes of four people."

"Have you heard of a person called Ms Marina?"

"Ms Marina? No. I haven't. That sounds more in line with Mistress Lilith, you may ask her."

"Thank you very much, Miss Finch. We will be in touch."

Later Bob asked:

"How about it, Cheryl? Could Heather have slipped anything in the decanter before she put the stopper in it?"

Cheryl was emphatic about it:

"No way, Bob. I was looking at the decanter, so, I assume, were George and Jane. There is no way she could have slipped anything in the decanter, no matter how skilled she is. And we don't know that she has any skills at all in that direction."

"Well, people can accomplish amazing feats with sleight of hand."

"Well, anything is possible, I suppose. But I think it is highly improbable. I would as soon believe that the maid or Heather's mother slipped something in the decanter when they entered John's room, rather than think that Heather did it. They both were in his room, you know, however briefly."

"Well, how about it? Could either of them have done it?"

"I don't see how, Bob. We could not see the inside of his room, but both of them just entered the room. Their voices were consistent with them being just inside the door. Each literally spoke one sentence and was out the door.

"Either the maid, Teresa or Monica would have had to walk over to the night stand where the decanter was placed - Heather had placed it in front of John, on his table, and he must have moved it afterwards - remove the stopper, drop cyanide inside, replace the stopper and come back to the door. And all this without John noticing anything. There just wasn't enough time for all this. Both of them stood in the door, spoke a sentence each, and were out again."

“How about if she slipped it in his glass while she was in his office?”

“Then why was there cyanide in the decanter? It would be silly to put the poison in both the glass and the decanter. And when did she piss into the whisky?”

“Hmmm… by the way, I wanted to ask you something. I know only rudiments of bridge, I am not good at it. But when a deal is played isn’t one player, the dummy free to walk about, get a drink, do anything he or she pleases?”

“It is not that simple, Bob,” I told him. “Dummy can perform one useful function. Dummy can tell the declarer if he has to play from hand or from the dummy.”

“And why would the declarer need help with that?”

“Well, let us suppose that declarer is in a difficult contract. He has just won a trick and is plotting his strategy for the rest of the deal. He may think for a few minutes, forget which hand he has to play from and then reach to the dummy to play a card. Dummy is allowed to

tell him that he has to play from his hand, not from the dummy.”

“In a friendly game it may not matter. But in a serious duplicate game, the declarer is subject to penalty if he plays from the wrong hand. So it pays for the dummy to pay attention to what is going on.”

“During the game dummy may have got up, walked about, perhaps even got a drink. But he would come back very quickly, so he could pay attention to what was going on.”

“Interesting, I didn’t know that. But the dummy is by and large free to walk about. My question is, could the dummy have entered John’s office and slipped cyanide into the decanter?”

“Under the watchful eyes of so many players? Highly unlikely. When he opened the door to John’s office, that would have made a noise. Also when he came out and closed the door behind him, that would have made a noise. Besides, why would John permit him to slip

anything in the whisky decanter?”

“Nevertheless, it is a possibility.”

“But think what you are asking, Bob. The player has to make sure that he is the dummy, then without anybody noticing, he would have to enter John’s office. Then without John noticing, he would have to walk past him to the bedside, remove the stopper and slip cyanide into the decanter. Then he would have to put back the stopper, again sneak by John’s side so that he wouldn’t notice, come out, close the door and rejoin the game, without any of the players noticing.”

“Then there was Teresa. She was not playing cards, but waiting in the room, paying attention to the players. It would be practically impossible to sneak past all these people.”

“Don’t you think he would have come up with a better plan to commit the murder, a plan where he would have a better chance of success? Besides, how did he piss into the whisky?”

"Well, it seems nobody could have put cyanide in the decanter. It is looking more and more like a suicide."

"The problem with that is that John did not look anything like a man about to commit suicide. If he was going to kill himself, why work his butt off completing the account? He could have left it undone."

"Unless he found something while doing the accounts which caused him to commit suicide," Bob observed.

"It is possible, I suppose. But then he would have left the accounts half done. But they weren’t half-done, were they? They were complete. Ready to be delivered to Internal Devices. Why complete the accounts if he was going to kill himself? Besides, you are

forgetting the urea in his whisky. That clearly shows some other person did it."

"Unless he himself pissed in his whiskey."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No, I don't,” he admitted grudgingly – and it’s easily verified, anyway. But I find it equally difficult to see how anybody could have introduced cyanide into his whiskey.”

We all fell silent for a while until, with another clap of the hands we were beginning to realise denoted Bob was about to act in some way, he stared at us purposefully and said:

“Oh well, all we can do is keep plodding, I suppose.”

His next words were directed at Cheryl:

"Next thing is for you to visit Mistress Lilith and her sub.”

Cheryl smiled.

"Let me know how it comes out," he told her.

**********

Flashback-Three

John opened his eyes in the morning, Ms Marina's nipple still in his mouth.

He sucked on it gently, so as not to wake her up but she was already awake and gazing at him. She rubbed his cheek with her fingers and yawned as John got an awful whiff of her morning breath.

After letting him suck for a while, she removed her tit from his mouth.

"Go brush your teeth, use the mouthwash and come back to bed," she ordered.

John complied, brushed his teeth and came back to bed.

Ms Marina smelled his breath and slapped him several times.

"What part of using mouthwash didn't you understand, bitch? Now get your ass back there and wash your nasty mouth properly with the mouthwash, or you will receive a flogging."

He was back again soon after.

"Well, that is better. Now my baby's breath smells sweet, like a baby's breath."

She asked him to lie down on his back and climbed on top of him to start kissing his face, ensuring John kept getting awful whiffs of her morning breath. It was all he could do not to gag or throw up.

She kissed his face for some time, raking his cheeks with her teeth and drawing blood as her spit started to burn in the scratches. Then she brought her lips close to his. He realized what she was trying to do and shut his lips firmly.

"Oh, does my sissy not like his owner kissing him?" she asked mockingly, caressing his face gently with her fingers. Then, when she saw that he was not alert, she suddenly fastened her lips on his and held his nose in her fingers. His lips parted to breathe and she invaded his mouth with her tongue.

John was overcome with her fetid bad breath. He could taste and feel the morning slime on her tongue, as her tongue explored his mouth. He kept on struggling, but to no avail. She started transferring her saliva into his mouth. Finally John started sucking on her tongue, tried to suck the slime on her tongue. He clasped his hands around her and clung to her like a baby.

Ms Marina smiled to herself. Her plan to reduce John to a simpering, whimpering sissy was coming along nicely. She again transferred a massive amount of her spit into his mouth knowing he would be forced to swallow it.

Finally, having made the point she could do as she wished with him, she disengaged from the kiss and removed her tongue from his mouth, giggling as she saw that several strands of her saliva still connected her lips to his.

John hoped that she was finished. However, she was just getting started. She cleared her throat, coughed and gathered the mucus in her mouth. Before John realized what was happening, she pounced on him, fixed her lips on his and invaded his mouth with her tongue again. This time he could taste her salty, slimy mucus in his mouth. John felt nauseated, he just hoped he wouldn't throw up in her mouth, he knew the consequences won't be pretty.

She played with her mucus for a while, mixing it with her saliva inside his mouth and rolling it on his tongue with her tongue. Finally she withdrew and ordered John to swallow. When he was finished swallowing, she asked him to open his mouth again. She gathered the leftover mucus in her mouth and spat it into his mouth. As John saw the foamy, thick yellowish mucus descend into his mouth, he knew he was going to be sick.

He gulped quickly, got up and ran to the bathroom. He heaved and was sick in the toilet over and over again. He was heaving for a long time, until his stomach was totally empty. Finally he tasted bile coming out of his stomach. He stood up, brushed his teeth again, used the mouthwash and reported back to his tormentor.

"Come back to bed, sissy," she commanded.

As he lay down besides her, she took him again in her arms and mocked his downcast expression:

"Who was a good sissy then?"

With a laugh, she kissed him again and again, making him experience her awful morning breath, but, fortunately for John, there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

"Time to do some muff diving, you whore son," she told him.

Removing her skirt and panties, she stood up over him on the bed with her legs on either side of him facing his feet and lowered her pussy slowly onto his face. John could see her dense, thick, hairy jungle descend upon him. Soon his mouth was enveloped with her thick bush and John found it difficult to breath. She repositioned herself on his face and John was finally able to get some air; however, now her asshole was sitting squarely on his nose and he could smell the awful stench of her asshole.

Again he remembered her words:

"It will never be a pleasure for you John, only for me."

"Lick, and keep licking until I tell you to stop."

John promptly obeyed, inserting his tongue into her pussy. Secretions had gathered in her pussy during the night, her vaginal juices, urine, sweat etc. and the smell was terrible. He started licking gently. As she got aroused, her clitoris emerged from its hole, like a hooded cobra. He found her clitoris in his mouth and he gently nibbled on it with his teeth. At this, Ms Marina gave a loud moan and had an orgasm.

Now John knew that her clit was sensitive and would lead to her climax quickly he was able to do so several times. Perspiration from the required effort poured off him with the effort. Worse, he could smell the pungent odor of her sweat.

After several orgasms, she moved slightly so that her asshole was touching his lips.

"Now, worship my asshole and see if you can bring me to climax that way.'

He could see that her asshole was dirty with hair, bits of tissue paper, dried bits of shit etc, yet he immediately started licking, trying, in the process, to insert his tongue into her asshole.

He did not succeed.

Her asshole was very tight but he found that if he pressed his tongue into her asshole Ms Marina got excited and started moaning loudly.

He cleaned the bits of tissue paper and the bits of shit sticking to her asshole hair and, by meticulously licking and cleaning her asshole, was able to bring her to yet another climax.

Perversely, and despite the inhuman way she was treating him, he was proud of the accomplishment.

Proud or not, however, his lips were covered with her frothy, foamy discharge and there was also a bad taste in his mouth. But she was not finished yet. In fact, she seemed insatiable.

Turning herself around to face him, his mouth was again engulfed by her thick, hairy, sweaty bush.

"Now I want one last, earth shattering orgasm, then we are done. Go on, worship at my temple. Make me proud."

She started grinding her pussy against his mouth and John responded by licking and sucking vigorously; a few of her pussy hairs coming loose in his mouth for his efforts, though he was encouraged to see she was getting aroused big time.

An idea occurred to him and he lubricated his middle finger with her pussy juices, then, while gently nibbling on her clit, he inserted his middle finger into her asshole.

She gave a loud yell and had a huge orgasm, her vaginal juices gushing out into his mouth and over his face as he started choking and sputtering. Her vaginal discharge was milky in color but he could see a colorless liquid seep out of her vagina into his mouth and he tasted piss. Her orgasm was so intense, that she had lost control of her bladder and urinated a little into John's mouth.

When she saw that John had swallowed her piss, she stared down at him and mocked him.

"Well, my little sissy likes to drink mommy's golden nectar, does he? Well, there is plenty more where that came from. Open wide."

So saying, she started pissing into his mouth. Her morning piss had a sharp, strong, pungent smell and taste. But John swallowed it all (his stomach was empty anyway) as she voided her bladder into his mouth.

"OK, we are done here. Let us shower and clean up. Follow me to the bathroom on your hands and knees."

She walked to the bathroom, John following her like her dog. She sat down on the toilet.

"Lie down on the floor, sissy. Good. Now start worshipping my feet while I take a dump."

John took her big toe in his mouth and started licking and sucking it. Mistress Marina sat on the toilet and voided her bowels with a loud noise. An awful stench filled up the bathroom and John was afraid he may throw up again, this time expelling her piss that he had swallowed. Ms Marina sat on the toilet until John had worshipped both her feet. Then she wiped herself and got up.

"Now we will brush our teeth, sissy."

"I have already done so, Mistress."

"Well, then do it again."

As John got up and picked up his toothbrush, Ms Marina told him:

"Now lie down on the floor with the toothbrush in hand."

John wondered what she was leading up to, but he obeyed her. She sat down besides him and started to brush her teeth. She motioned him with her hand to open his mouth. As he did so, she spat a generous amount of toothpaste mixed with her saliva into his mouth. He started brushing his teeth with that. She repeated it a couple times more.

"Now, mind you don't spill any on the floor, keep it stored in your mouth." She said to him with her mouth full of toothpaste, spitting in his face.

Soon his mouth was overflowing with her spit, his spit and the toothpaste. With difficulty he managed to keep it in. Ms Marina stood up and rinsed her mouth.

"Do you still have everything in your mouth, sissy?”

He nodded, shamefaced as he tried not to retch.

“Good. Now we will take a shower. Aren't you lucky? You get to take a shower together with your dream Goddess.'

A demoralized John did not feel very “lucky”.

"Get into the bathtub and lie on your back," she said, walking into the bathtub naked. He did as she ordered, obedience coming more and more readily to him.

"Now as I shower, the water will cascade down to you. You may rinse your mouth with my bathwater, and also clean yourself, that will be your shower."

John was appalled; she expected him to rinse his mouth and wash with her dirty bathwater.

While taking her own shower, she deliberately stepped on him from time to time and John found her weight on his body unbearable. He prayed inwardly that it wouldn't result in any broken bones. From time to time she also gave him a swift kick and managed to find enough piss left in her bladder to piss on him.

Soon she was finished.

"OK slut, now come out and dry yourself. That was a very good session, I thoroughly enjoyed it."

When they had dried and got dressed, she told him

"Turn on the coffee maker and make two cups of coffee for us."

As they sat down with coffee mugs in their hands, John pleaded with her. "Please, Ms Marina. Haven't I suffered enough? Please release me now. Let me go if you have any human pity."

"Suffered enough? You?”

Her laughter was cruel and, John thought, more than a little unbalanced.

“Far from it,” she went on. “You still must suffer much more. Oops, I almost forgot, I must sanctify your coffee. Bring your coffee mug here."

She generously spat into his coffee then lowered the mug to her pussy and pissed a small amount in his coffee, amazing him that she could have any left in her after their recent exploits. Smirking at him, she stirred his coffee with a spoon to mix it in.

"There, that is how you drink coffee in my presence. Oh, and sissy? In case you develop any balls, any spine, just remember that I am recording our sessions, and can post them on the Internet any time I wish, for everyone to enjoy."

"I have filmed you in such a way that all of you are visible, but my face is never visible. So nobody will recognize me, I have nothing to lose by posting them on the Internet. Remember this before you develop a backbone and try to terminate our relationship. You leave only when I tell you that it is finished."

"Also, I have deposited the DVDs and all the incriminating documents with a lawyer here in Salt Lake City, to be published in the event of my death. So don't get any ideas."

**********

Chapter-Three

Mistress Lilith's dungeon was located discretely in a suburban area, and looked like any other house in the vicinity. Dear Reginald, our manservant would have been shocked if he had known where we were headed (he has accepted our lifestyle, but frowns upon any other

alternative lifestyle). He discreetly waited in the car in the driveway. The door was opened by a good looking young woman dressed in French maid costume.

After she announced us, Mistress Lilith came out to greet us. "Please, do come in ladies. And call me Linda; that is my real name. Will you have a drink? Tea, coffee, or maybe something stronger? I assume you ladies are not on duty."

"Oh, why not,” Cheryl consented. “After all, we are on vacation. I will have Scotch on the rocks."

"Jane?"

"The same for me please. So you don't have any problem with tea, coffee or alcohol?"

"Certainly not. I am not a Mormon. Andrew, get two Scotch on the rocks for the guests and a martini for me."

"At once Mistress."

Andrew curtsied and departed.

"Wasn't the name of your bridge partner Andrew?" a somewhat amused Cheryl asked her, as always enjoying politeness and deference in a man towards a woman.

"Yes, this is the same person."

"What?" I exclaimed. “This girl looks nothing like Andrew."

"It is all in the clothes, make up and deportment, Jane. Andrew wishes to dress up as a French Maid and serve me, so I trained him as to how to dress and behave like a French Maid."

"Well, you have certainly trained him well. So your servant is your bridge partner?" I asked her.

With a short laugh Linda replied:

"Don't let Andrew hear you referring to him as my servant. He is my sub and there is a big difference. In real life he is a high powered executive. But here in my dungeon, he belongs to me. I decide whether he is going to be my bridge partner, my servant, or… well, whatever my mood dictates really.”

"And you get paid for this privilege. A good thing you have going here."

"Being a dominatrix is not as easy as you seem to think. It may surprise you, but it is the sub who is in charge, not the dominatrix. The sub decides what the limits are, what kind of pain he will endure, what kind of scenario he wants to act out (teacher/student, mommy/child etc.), and to what level it should be taken. The Mistress works within definite, prearranged agreements. Also she must know the limits of her sub, when to stop administering pain etc., or she may cause serious injury to the sub. Then she lays herself open to the lawsuit or perhaps even criminal charges or... oh, the drinks are here."

With a great show of respect and deference, Andrew served the three of us.

"Now, Andrew here wants to serve as my maid, so I make him one. I can order him around as much as I want. I can punish his indiscretions by spanking or whipping, but only within prearranged limits."

"This is not Blue Label, I am afraid, I am not that rich. This is still good Scotch, though."

I took a sip and had to agree, but when I glanced at the ice cubes floating in my glass I got the shock of my life.

The cubes themselves were in the shape of a male penis. I had to admire the workmanship as it was quite detailed, including two tiny testicles, but… well…

"Linda,” I asked with disapproval, “where did you get these ice cubes? I think they are gross, if you pardon my saying so."

"Well, men have ice cubes in the shape of naked women, so I figure what is good for the goose is good for the gander. I like ice cubes in the shape of penis. But if you are offended, I could replace them with normal ice cubes. Oh, I forgot you are lesbians (we see so few of those in Salt Lake City); you may find the sight of male penis offensive."

"No, it’s OK. I just wasn't prepared for this; that’s all. Do you buy these ice trays in the store or what?"

"Unfortunately not. Ice trays for bare breasted female shaped ice cubes are easy to obtain. But I had to get these specially designed. There is only one company in USA who will supply custom made ice trays. I got it from them."

"So you sent them the sketch of a penis and they made ice trays to order?"

"Actually I sent them a replica of Andrew's penis. Even though he is a sub, he is well endowed. You sure you don't want normal ice cubes? Andrew can replace them, it is no trouble."

"No, that is fine, Linda. Don't bother."

"But enough about me. I assume you want to talk about John's death. Have they decided yet whether it was murder or suicide?"

"We are still working on that. Incidentally, after we are finished with you, we would like to speak to Andrew, about that day. What was your connection with John?"

"Andrew, these nice ladies want to talk to you about the death that day. Tell them what they want to know and tell the truth. You are excused until they are finished with me." Andrew again curtsied and left the room.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes. I am acquainted with his wife, Heather. We are childhood friends. Though she disapproves of my lifestyle (and I think she is too much of a straight jacket), we have remained good friends."

"And you had no contact with John, not in a professional capacity?"

"If you mean he was one of my clients, the answer is no. As far as I am aware, he is not involved in this lifestyle at all."

"Do you also go by the name of Ms Marina?"

"Ms Marina? No, I don't. Is she a professional dominatrix in Salt Lake City? If so, I haven't heard the name, and the community is pretty small here."

"Well, she may be a material witness. Could you maybe ask around to see if anybody in your community has heard of her?"

"Sure, I will see what I can do."

"Thank you, Linda." Cheryl said and I drained my glass; the offensive ice cubes had already disappeared.

"We would like to talk to your sub if that’s acceptable."

"Sure, no problem. Andrew?" Linda called him.

Andrew came out. This time he was dressed in a three piece suit and looked like the Andrew we saw the other day.

Linda excused herself." Well Andrew, how well do you know the Longbottoms?"

"I am afraid I cannot be of any help to you, I met them the first time the other day. I was there purely as my mistress' partner and nothing more. When I am serving as her sub, she orders and I obey. I assume she must have cleared it with Heather, since Heather seemed to be

expecting me."

"So you did not know John or Heather before that day."

"Not in the least."

"Do you visit other mistresses besides Lilith?"

"Well, yes. Sometimes."

"How about mistresses out of town?"

"Actually, this is out of town for me, I am not from Salt Lake City. I am about to go back home, that is why I am dressed in a suit."

"Have you ever visited a Ms Marina? Or have you come across the name?"

"No, can't say that I have. I don't think she works here in Salt Lake City, I am familiar with the names of all of them here."

"How often do you visit Mistress Lilith? Are you a regular visitor?"

"That my dear woman; is none of your business. I fail to see what that has to do with your investigation."

There was nothing submissive about him now, quite the opposite in fact, he looked every bit the business executive that he was.

"Maybe not, but didn't you hear your mistress order you to tell us the truth? You are bound by that. If we give your mistress a bad report, if she knows that you disobeyed her order, you probably will get some sort of punishment." I put in, realizing as I said it that it would be punishment he would most probably enjoy.

Andrew yielded with good grace, just the same.

"Well, yes,” he said, “I am a regular with her. Whenever I am in town I always try to find time to visit her."

"So if she used any other name, say Ms Marina, would you be aware of it?"

"Very likely, yes. Unless she keeps it a top secret."

"And to your knowledge, she has never used that name?"

"No, Never."

"Thanks, Andrew.'

**********

Flashback-Four

"Well John, today I am going to introduce you to the joys of body worship. But first, remove all your clothes, I want you totally naked."

"May I ask what is body worship, Ms Marina?"

"You will find out as we go along." Ms Marina replied. "But first, you have a pleasant duty to perform. You may remove my clothes, all of them."

John approached her and reverently kissed her feet.

"Good, slut, you are learning. Now remain kneeling on the floor, but reach up and undo my skirt."

John did that and the skirt fell to the floor as Ms Marina stepped out of it.

"Now you may stand up and unbutton and remove my blouse."

John stood up and removed her blouse, exposing her bra overflowing with her ample breasts.

John could feel stirring in his loins. Then Ms Marina raised her arm and he got an awful whiff of her armpit. He wrinkled his nose.

Noting this, she told him:

"Well, John, I have already told you that you won't enjoy any of our activities together. To make sure you don't, I haven't showered for the past 24 hours, I haven't used any deodorant and you may find the smell a bit ripe. I simply stayed away from people for the past 24 hours, I was preparing for our session."

John immediately felt even more queasy.

"You will be in close contact with me for the session, you lucky dog. If I see any attitude on your part, we will have to use the attitude adjuster on you. It will be the belt, Mr. Violator or maybe both."

He winced as he remembered the session with Mr. Violator; it had taken several days afterwards for his asshole to stop hurting.

“How do you like my garlic breath?" John heaved as he got an awful whiff of her breath.

"Now unhook my bra in the back."

As John did so, she removed her arms from the bra, freeing her large, pendulous breasts, and sat down on a chair to light an evil smelling cigar.

"Now carefully undo the suspender belt and remove my stockings and my panties. Roll the stockings down gently on my legs. Mind you don't cause a run in them" She said, blowing cigar smoke on his face. She stood up so John could remove her panties and he could smell the stink of her panties as he held them in his hand.

"Open your mouth," she ordered with the cigar still in her mouth.

As he opened up the smelly, stinky panties went into his mouth.

"Now go stand in the corner facing the wall, put your hands over your head and let me smoke in peace."

She finished her cigar and made herself a cup of coffee, keeping him in the corner for a full half an hour; then finally, as John's hands started to ache, he was relieved when she ordered him to come to her.

She was lying naked on her bed.

"Now, the way you do this is that you worship every inch of my body, except my face. I don't want your filthy lips anywhere on my face. Other than that, you must lick, suck and kiss every inch of my body. You may start with my gorgeous, but perhaps stinky, feet."

John’s eyes took in her feet and, once again, asked himself how he could sustain humiliation of such a kind.

"Oops, I almost forgot. I must make sure that you don't find what we are about to do pleasurable in any way.”

She got up from the bed, produced two clothes pins, and applied them to his nipples.

Unbearable pain at once shot through his body and he cried out.

"Please, Ms Marina, take them off, I beg of you."

"Painful, isn't it? Well, there is some good news. Let a few minutes pass and the pain, though still there, won't be an agony any longer. Now let us get going."

She lay down on the bed again, this time on her back

"Oh, just one more thing before you start. If while worshipping my body you get nauseated, heave and throw up, that is OK by me. If you go to the washroom and throw up in the toilet, you will merely get a spanking for it. But if you dirty my bed or puke here in the room, you

will have to lick it up clean and get a spanking."

With this in mind, John took her big toe in his mouth and started licking. Her foot smelled of sweat and tasted salty. But mercifully, there was no dirt on it. He was determined to please her and he started licking and sucking vigorously. He sucked and licked her toes, in between her toes; he sucked and licked the bottom of her foot.

Suddenly she lashed out with her foot, sending him reeling.

"Enough, bitch. The other foot."

Swallowing the minute amount of blood he could taste in his mouth, John started on her other foot.

When he came to her legs, he found that she had not shaved in a few days and short and sharp stubble started pricking him. Regardless, fearful of what would happen if he didn’t, he licked her legs in long strokes, blowing on them and kissing them all over. Again he could smell and taste the sweat on her body and asked himself how anyone could perspire so much. The truth being, unknown to him, that she had poured some salt water on her body and allowed it to dry.

As he came to her thighs he could smell the strong, rank smell of her pussy. She had not washed herself for 24 hours and the smell was rather ripe. Her thighs and her legs were smooth (if one disregarded the stubble), creamy and gorgeous. Why couldn't she make herself presentable, John wondered. Then John would have enjoyed this activity. He licked and cleaned her fleshy thighs and finally came to the part he dreaded, her pussy.

Her hairy bush stank of vaginal juices, sweat and urine. Not only that, but he also could smell her asshole further down. He closed his eyes, tried to get the smell out of his mind and started licking the hairy, sweaty bush. He brought her to orgasm several times, each time she flooded his mouth with her frothy, milky vaginal discharge.

He was worshipping her pussy for what seemed to him like hours, and he brought her to orgasm several times. Sometimes she would lose control of her bladder and eject a small amount of urine, which also he licked clean. His jaws were beginning to get sore. He was glad when Mistress Marina ordered him to move on, even though he knew he was probably going to throw up from the next activity.

Ms Marina was right in that the pain due to the nipple clamps diminished after a while. However, whenever the clothes pin touched any object, it sent a stab sharp, shooting pain through his nipples.

She turned over, lay on her stomach and said:

"OK, now worship my backside."

He started by planting small kisses on her ass cheeks. He put off the dread moment as far as he could, kissing and licking her ass cheeks for a long time. Her ass cheeks were wet with his saliva, which he licked off dry.

With a sigh, he parted her ass cheeks with his hands to reveal her dirty brown hole. She was not very clean down there. Like last time, he could see bits of tissue paper and bits of shit stuck to her ass hair. As he put his lips to it and kissed her asshole, the smell was too much for him.

He put his hand over his mouth and ran into the bathroom, trying to ignore the intense pain caused by the jiggling of the clothes pins on his nipples. He sat hunched over the toilet bowl and threw up copiously. He washed up and came back.

Ms Marina said:

"That has earned you a spanking, slave. But at least you didn't dirty the bed or the carpet, so you don't have to lick it up."

Now that his stomach was totally empty, he felt better. He again parted her ass cheeks and kissed her asshole. The smell was as bad as ever, but at least he wouldn't throw up. He took some of her ass hair in his mouth and started licking gently, to clean it off. It took him a long time, but eventually he managed to get her asshole clean, swallowing plenty of junk in the process.

It was a relief to move on to her back. Now there was only the smell and taste of sweat to worry about. He worshipped and cleaned her back with his tongue and finally came to her arms. He started with her fingers, taking each finger in his mouth and sucking on it as if it was a small penis. From there he proceeded to her hands and then to her arms. As he approached her armpits, he could smell the stink of her armpits.

But at least she had shaved her armpits; he did not have to worry about armpit hair. The smell again was over powering and there was stubble in her armpits, but he managed to clean and worship her armpits without throwing up.

She turned over on her back and presented her front to him. John licked and cleaned her breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth and started sucking gently. This part he was enjoying (in spite of the smell) and he could feel his penis harden.

It was also turning her on. She took his hand in hers and guided it to her pussy. He started fingering her pussy and her clitoris, while suckling on her breasts. Mistress Marina started to moan and soon experienced an earth shattering climax. She again put John in between her legs to clean her out until, finally, she was satisfied and complimented him:

"You have been a good sissy, darling."

So saying, she took John in her arms and kissed him deeply. John gagged on her garlic breath. He kept struggling in her embrace. Mistress Marina ignored him and kissed him for a long time, transferring generous amount of her spit into his mouth.

"Now, time for your spanking before we finish. But let us do something about the nipple clamps first."

She took one clothes pin in her hand and yanked it viciously. John screamed with intense agony. Smiling, she did it again with the second pin. John fell to the floor and clutched his head in his hands. Tears of pain flowed down his cheeks. He did not know that there could be so much pain in the world.

After he had recovered from the pain shock, Ms Marina told him:

"Go to the corner and bring the flat heeled shoes you will find there."

John found the shoes easily enough. The bottoms were dirty as Ms Marina evidently used the shoes outside the house and when he brought the shoes to her she asked him to get on her lap. Taking one shoe in her hand, she raised it and brought it down hard on his bottom with a loud smack.

She spanked him for a long time and to John, it did not hurt as much as her beating him with a belt.

But it was a whole lot more humiliating.

**********

Chapter-Four

That evening we met with Sergeant Bob to compare notes. Cheryl filled him in regarding our visit to Mistress Lilith and her sub.

"Well, I don't see that we have advanced all that much." Bob said.

"We still don't know if it is suicide or murder. If murder, we don't know how it was carried out."

He remembered something else:

"Oh, and I asked about testing the whisky to see if the urine belonged to a man or a woman. The problem is that there was very little urine in the whisky, just a couple of tablespoons in maybe a litre. The urine concentration is too low to test for estrogen.”

Cheryl nodded, thoughtfully.

“So no,” he went on, “we have no way of knowing if it was a man's urine or a woman's. To be honest, we really don't know anything."

"Well, it is not as bad as that. We may reasonably surmise that he was into the femdom lifestyle and that he was probably visiting this Ms Marina. I have a feeling if we can identify this lady we will be much further along."

"Well, I will contact police departments in all the major cities and see what they can dig up. If this Ms Marina lives anywhere in USA, we will find her. Incidentally, here is a bit of tidbit for you. Our George is not the manly man, the he-man that he pretends to be.”

“How so?” I asked.

“He is a homosexual."

“What? Are you sure?"

"Well, bisexual actually. That was the reason for his divorce. The divorce records were sealed at his request (and his wife didn't object). But I was able to get access to them. Both of them wanted to hush it up, neither of them wanted publicity. But that indeed was the reason for their break up. Which leaves only one witness. John's mother, Monica Barnes. She is a devout Mormon, a straight laced woman who Heather evidently takes after and from whom I doubt if we will get much."

"Aren't we going to talk to Heather?” I asked. “I would think by now she would have got over her initial shock, grief and should be able to talk rationally."

"Yes,” Cheryl agreed, speaking for Bob. “After we have seen Monica we will talk to her."

Another thought struck her:

"Oh Bob, I forgot to ask you something. The card room and the adjoining office are not at the ground level, they are on the second floor. Do you think it is possible that somebody may have climbed the wall and entered through the window?"

"You mean, while John was absorbed in his work, somebody could have snuck into the room through the window, pissed into his whiskey and put cyanide in the decanter? It sounds absurd on the face of it"

"But there are practical difficulties as well. I did examine the outside of the house, and it is not easy to climb on the wall outside the window. There are not that many handholds and footholds. An accomplished gymnast may possibly be able to do it, but even then I wouldn't bet on it."

"The other difficulty is that there are bars on the window, so nobody can get in that way. What he may have had to do is to throw the cyanide into the whisky with deadly accuracy (assuming the stopper was not in the decanter and that whisky was exposed). Then there is the question of pissing."

"He could have squirted his urine into the whiskey with a water pistol." I pointed out.

"To what end? We are speculating to no useful purpose that I can see. Besides, urine splashing into the whiskey would most certainly have attracted John's attention, no matter how absorbed he was in his work."

"Of course we have been assuming all along that the murderer pissed into the whiskey. Suppose there were two persons, this Mistress Marina pissed into the whisky and the murderer put cyanide in it."

"Then that doubles our difficulty. We can't even imagine how one person could have snuck into John's office and now we have to worry about two persons."

"Also, I recall seeing a refrigerator in John's room. Anything interesting in it?"

"No, just the usual food items. And none of them contained any cyanide or urea."

"What we need is more information. Let us talk to the mother-in-law, Monica."

**********

Flashback-Five

"Well sissy, here we are again. Guess what? This time we are going out."

He stared back at her with complete horror.

"What? I can't go out dressed like this. I can't risk being exposed to public in this condition."

"You mean dressed like a sissy? Dressed in my dirty underwear, wearing an ill fitting dress, wearing make up like a clown? Dressed not so that you would be mistaken for a woman, but dressed so that you would be recognized for what you are, a man dressed as a woman?"

"Well, too fucking bad. We are going out and that is that."

"Please don't Ms. Marina, I beg of you."

Mistress Marina produced a small, pearl handled pistol. She shot at him so that the bullet just missed him. The pistol had a silencer on it, so the shot made only a muffled sound.

"Now listen bitch, I won't kill you if you disobey. But I can certainly wing you, maybe shoot you in arm or leg and believe me, I will. Now get your ass out the door before I really lose my temper."

John meekly followed her out the door. Fortunately for him, they went straight to her car parked in the garage. John automatically walked over to the passenger seat.

"And where do you think you are going?"

"I assume you don't want me to drive?"

"Certainly not. But you are not worthy of sitting besides me." She popped open the trunk and leveled her pistol again at him.

"Into the trunk with you. Go on, don't waste my time."

Reluctantly he climbed into the trunk. Ms Marina closed the lid, got into the car and started driving. John was grateful that all was done away from public eye. In a way, he was glad that she made him lie in the trunk. That way there was no danger that anybody would see him.

It was a short drive and soon John could feel the car coming to a stop. He could hear her talking to somebody and soon the top of the trunk popped open. As John's eyes got accustomed to the light, he saw that there were two other women staring down at him, besides Ms Marina.

Both were dressed as bikers and were, in fact, biker chicks.

One of them was very tall and had the girth to match her height. She easily picked John up in her arms and unceremoniously dumped him on the ground. John could smell her body odor.

Both the biker chicks looked at him and burst into laughter.

"My! What a sissy. You got a winner here, Marina. Or should I say 'loser'?"

"All right, you pansy. Get up," the large chick barked at him, while delivering a vicious kick.

John struggled to obey and saw they were in the front yard of an old, ramshackle, rundown, abandoned house. They all walked into the house and in the front room there were perhaps fifteen more biker chicks.

"They are a lesbian biker gang, sissy." Ms Marina informed John.

"They are so looking forward to meeting you. This little lady here," she pointed to the large woman, "is Nasty, the leader of these lovely ladies."

"They are all eager to have fun with you. None of them are very clean though. Especially Nasty here." Ms Marina remarked, sniffing.

"What's the matter, dear? Don't you ever wash?"

As the girls clamored around their prey, Ms Marina told them:

"All right, ladies, calm down. Everybody is going to have him."

Nasty immediately began to fondle him, looking at him the way a predator would look at its prey. John was terrified, petrified with fear. He sat there, staring at his abuser open mouthed, unable to do or say anything.

Ms Marina saw Nasty fondling him and swatted her away.

"Get your hands off him. You got to pay first. Now, form a line, everybody is going to have him."

Ms Marina produced a box of condoms.

Now John found his tongue:

"Please, I don't want to do…"

Ms Marina slapped him hard.

"Shut up, you son of a bitch. Who gives a fuck whether you want to or not? Just lie down on the mattress here."

She pointed to an old, threadbare mattress on the dusty floor.

"Come on ladies, let us have some order here, please form a line."

"I go first, of course." Nasty told the girls. “You all form a line, after me." John was still sitting on the floor, dazed and petrified, and the leader gave him a swift kick which landed him squarely on the mattress.

"OK ladies,” Ms Marina informed them, “it’s 50 dollars each."

"How about letting me go for free, Marina?” Nasty asked, a little indignantly. “After all, I am giving you so much business."

Ms Marina thought about it and then, nodding to herself:

"OK Nasty, for you it is on the house. The rest of you pony up and get in line."

"Now, how are we going to do this? If each girl individually has her way with him, this will take just too long. We will have to multi task." Nasty said.

"Right. I don't see why two of them could not do him at the same time. Suppose each girl squats on his face first, he brings her to climax by licking her. Then she puts on the double dildo inside her and fucks him in the ass."

"Right, fucks him until she achieves an orgasm." Nasty put in.

"No, she fucks him to a maximum of 10 minutes. If she has not achieved orgasm by then, that is just too bad. This way we will be done in a few hours."

"Right, sissy. Ready to pull a train? Let us get the show on the road. Nasty, if you would do the honors?"

"Thanks, Marina." Nasty pulled down her jeans and lowered her haunches on to his face.

John was hit will full force by the stink of her pussy.

"Start licking, bitch, if you know what is good for you."

Terrified of both the situation and the women, John started licking vigorously. Fortunately, Nasty was already horny, so it didn't take long to bring her to climax. She ejaculated copiously into his mouth. As John finished licking his lips, another one took Nasty's place. As John started licking her, he felt a stabbing pain in his asshole. No doubt it was Nasty fucking him.

And it went on for a long time. After a few of them, John was totally exhausted. He was also in constant agony, brought on by dildos being in his ass almost continuously. He kept passing out due to agony, only to be brought to consciousness by Nasty's stab of cigarettes. Soon he was sporting quite a collection of cigarette burns.

Some of them pissed in his mouth after they achieved orgasm. He threw up a few times, but they didn't seem to mind, they continued, with him lying in his own vomit.

This went on for hours, as they took turns raping him. He could feel bleeding from his ass, but they paid no attention and went on with the gang rape. Some of them paid an extra 30 dollars each and had another go at him.

Finally the last one pulled from his ass and they were done.

"Well, that was awesome, Marina. Is the sissy for sale?” Nasty asked Ms Marina as John lay whimpering, sobbing on the bed. “I would like to make him my biker bitch. How much are you asking for him?"

"I don't know, Nasty." Mistress Marina replied around her cigar, giving it some thought as she counted her money. "We will discuss that later. At the moment, he’s lying in a pool of his own blood, so how about you and a few girls helping me to put the whore in the trunk of my car? I brought a large plastic sheet for just such occasion. We can wrap him in it and put him in the trunk of my car, then I’ll dump him in some quiet, unfrequented road, where eventually a passing motorist will find him.”

With a smile, she added:

“I hope."

**********

Chapter -Five

Monica greeted us warmly. She was around 60 and looked well for her age. She could easily have passed for a 50 year old.

"Terrible business, Sergeant. I still can't believe it happened."

"No doubt. How were the relations between you and Mr. Longbottom, Mrs. Barnes?"

"To tell the truth, I did not like him. He is a lapsed Mormon (Jack Mormons, as we call them), he had strayed away from religion and from God. He drank, which is forbidden in our religion, and he rarely attended the Church. I was opposed to their marriage."

Knowing the Mormon religion and its somewhat intolerant nature as I did, this hardly came as a revelation.

"I very much wanted my daughter to get married in a Mormon Temple,” she went on, “rather than a Mormon church. But they would never extend permission for a man like John to get married in a Temple. Every couple who wants to get married in a Temple has to be interviewed by a Bishop, and John would never have passed the muster."

"However, once he was married to my daughter, I loved him as a son. One doesn't have to like a person to love him. We got along quite well, though I suspect he didn't approve of my religious ways. But I only wished him well, I had no resentment against him."

"Did you get along with your older daughter, Heather?" Cheryl, Sergeant asked.

"Oh, most certainly. At least she has not strayed from religion, like her younger sister. We have a close bond. A few years ago, she had a miscarriage and I was there for her at that time. I am much closer to her than I am to Melody. And now Melody talks of going out of Utah for internship. That will take us further apart still." Monica wiped her eyes.

"And what was the relationship between Melody and John?"

"Relationship?” her face became stern. “I assure you, there was nothing of… that nature between them. They got along well enough, certainly, but I don't think there was anything more than that. Why, you surely don't think...?"

"Mrs. Barnes, I don't think, I only ask questions,” the Sergeant interjected diplomatically.

Cheryl took the opportunity of the ensuing silence to ask:

“Can you think why anybody would want to kill Mr. Longbottom?"

"Not really. But then I didn't really know him that well, so I really couldn't say. But wasn't it suicide, I thought that nobody had the opportunity to introduce the cyanide into the whisky?"

Bob shook his head.

"We don't know yet," he told her truthfully. “"You were the last person to see your son-in-law alive, Mrs. Barnes. When you went to his room did you see or hear anything unusual at that time?"

"I was in his room for maybe half a minute. I asked him just one question, which he answered. I did not have time to look around; I wouldn't have noticed anything, suspicious or otherwise."

"And what was his demeanor like when you talked to him?"

"He seemed perfectly normal. I cannot believe that he would commit suicide just a few minutes after that."

"Well, we still don't know if it was suicide or murder. Thanks for your help, Mrs. Barnes,"

Cheryl said. “We’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

As we were getting up to leave, I asked her:

"Incidentally, I assume you have never heard the name Ms Marina?"

"Why yes, as it happens. I have."

All of us sat down again, in somewhat of a shock – especially the Sergeant.

"You what? You know the person known as Ms Marina?" he asked.

"No, I don't. Miss Holmes asked me if I have heard the name. I did hear the name, but I don't personally know her."

"And where did you hear the name?" Cheryl pressed her.

"From John, my son-in-law. Apparently she is what is called a dominatrix. John explained to me what a dominatrix was, I did not know that such creatures existed. Absolute abomination."

Sergeant Bob was nodding agreement.

"Anyway,” she went on, “John told me he had got caught in the clutches of this Ms Marina and she forced him to do unspeakable, filthy, disgusting things. It is a wonder that such acts are legal, I am surprised that they are not banned, at least here in Utah. We are a God fearing people in Utah, and such acts are allowed to happen?"

"And how did John feel about that?" I asked.

"Surprisingly, he was ambivalent about it. Mostly he was repulsed by it, but sometimes there would be this wistful look in his eyes."

Sergeant Bob seemed taken aback by the development:

"And do you know why he confided in you, his mother-in-law, and not go to a therapist?" he quizzed her. “Would it not have been less  embarrassing for him?

"Actually, he was seeing a psychiatrist: a Dr. Norm Peters here in Salt Lake City; though he did open up to me about it just once. And the reason he did was to tell me that he had finally decided to give it up, to tell that abominable, wicked creature – I refuse to call her a woman as she brings shame to all womanhood - to get lost and, in his words: ‘to take a hike’."

“Why the sudden resolution,” Cheryl asked.

"He told me he wanted to get back to his Mormon roots. He also told me he wanted to start going to Church again. Since I am a regular Church goer and very active within it, he wanted to come with me to the Church the next Sunday. He was, he said, going to give up drinking. He never smoked anyway, so that wasn't a problem."

"And yet he didn't have any problem drinking Blue Label which killed him."

"The day before the bridge game, he told me that was his last drink. He was going to pour the rest of the decanter down the drain - at a cost of more than 100 dollars, I was told - and confront Ms Marina the next day.”

She stifled a sob.

“He never lived to see the next day."

"Did you tell any of this to your daughter?" I asked after allowing her a few moments to collect herself.

"Well, I was so happy for Heather. There marriage has been a bit strained, since her miscarriage three years ago. She seemed to blame John for that. However, my hope was that this new path John was about to choose would bring them together and was the reason I did

not tell her about this… dominatrix. That was none of my business and I reasoned it would be better coming from John himself. However, I did tell her that John was going to give up drinking, I thought she deserved to know at least that much from me."

"And what was her response?"

"She broke down and cried in my arms, she was so happy about it. Her prayers of many years were answered."

Sergeant Bob looked at me to see if Cheryl or I had any more questions and we quickly shook our heads.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Barnes,” he said. “You have been a big help."

"Well, here is the breakthrough we were hoping for,” Cheryl exclaimed when we were outside.

“And it came from a very unexpected source,” said Bob, taking it up and turning to me.

“Thank you for asking her about Ms Marina, Jane. It had totally slipped my mind. Not in a million years would I guess that a woman like Mrs. Barnes could be aware of a woman like Mistress Marina."

"I suppose the next step would be Dr. Peters. I will phone him and set up an appointment."

We saw Dr. Peters in his office and after introductions, Bob got right down to business.

"I assume you have read about the death of Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes, shocking. It came as a total surprise."

"I understand he was one of your patients."

Dr. Peters took a long time in answering. He seemed to be thinking what to say. Finally he replied

"Well, I suppose I could admit to that, without violating any confidentially privileges. Yes, he indeed was my client. I prefer to call them clients, not patients."

"We will need the details of his sessions with you, your diagnosis, his prognosis etc."

"Sorry, out of the question. Even if I wanted to, there are confidentiality laws."

"Look Dr. Peters, a man is dead, very likely was murdered. We need all the information there is to carry out a proper investigation. I could get a warrant, raid your office, and cart away the records. That will mean a big disruption for you. It will be much easier on you if you give us the information."

Again Dr. Peers thought about it.

Eventually, he said:

"I will talk to American Psychiatric Association and ask them if I can

reveal the information without breaching the client confidentiality. If they say yes, no problem. If they say no, then I am sorry but you will have to get your warrant and confiscate the records." He got up.

"Well, thank you, Dr. Peters. Let us know what you decide."

"Now what?" I asked.

Cheryl looked thoughtful:

"Well, I was hoping to get the information from Dr. Peters before we talked to Mrs. Longbottom, but I suppose it is not absolutely necessary. Let us pay her a visit. Hopefully Dr. Peters will come to a decision in a day or two."

**********

Chapter-Six

Heather still seemed not quite herself and was clearly still grieving. However, she was ready to talk. She was in late thirties and looked stunningly beautiful, if slightly overweight (but bulging in all the right places). She carried it off very well though, and if I had not been already married, I would have seriously considered making a pass at her.

"So Mrs. Longbottom. Any idea who would have wanted to kill your husband?" Bob began.

"Not really, Sergeant He had many business ventures going, he may well have made enemies there, I wouldn't know. George for instance. But as far as I know, I cannot think of anybody."

"What about George?" I asked.

"Well, he is a dear. In spite of John swindling him, he did not hold a grudge. I offered to make up his losses (I have my own money). He declined, said it was not really much of a loss for him. After an initial period of hostility and coolness,, he had warmed up to John ecently."

The mention of her husband’s name brought Cheryl in:

"How were the relations between you and John?"

"Well… If I am to be totally truthful, not the best. Three years ago I had a miscarriage, and I blamed John for it. Wrongly, as I later realized. I was depressed during the pregnancy, and I blamed John for my depression. I also thought that I lost the baby because of the depression. Later I realized that I was just being silly."

"But relations between John and me had been strained until the very end. But I think they were about to change for the better. A couple of days ago my mother told me that John told her that he was going to give up drinking. He was going to turn over a new leaf. The decanter

I filled up for John was going to be the last one, I thought. I was right, but in such a different, horrible way."

She sniffled.

"Do you work for a living, Mrs. Longbottom?" asked Sergeant Bob

" I work part time, I am an investment broker."

"Why part time?" I queried.

"Well, we are quite well off; God has been good to us. John had his own money, I have my own. In addition, John had a substantial income, what with his job as an accountant and his business ventures. It really was not necessary for me to work, we didn't need the money. So a few years ago I started working part time. The remaining time I devote to charities, fund raising, that kind of thing."

"Now, think back carefully. When you took the decanter over to John, could anybody have introduced anything in the decanter at any stage?"

"You mean cyanide? I don't see how. As soon as Theresa poured the whisky into the decanter, put the decanter on the table and left, I picked up the decanter and brought it into the card room. I poured two drinks, one for George and one for sis. Then right away I placed

the stopper in the decanter, took the decanter to John's room and left it on the table in front of him."

There was a silence.

"I can emphatically say,” she went on, assuming that silence to be accusation, “that there was no way anybody could have put anything into the whisky between pouring it into the decanter and taking it to John's study."

"How about afterwards?" Bob quizzed.

"Well, only two persons went into his study after that. One was my mother and the other was Teresa. And there is no way either of them could have put cyanide in the whisky. For one, they didn't have the time and for other, I know them very well. I would just as soon believe that you or Cheryl or Jane here put cyanide in the whisky than to suspect mom or Teresa."

“Do you always fill his decanter?"

"Yes. The routine is that Teresa washes the decanter, dries it and leaves it on the kitchenette table. After I tell her to, she fills it up with whisky and I take it to John's office. That has been the invariable routine for the past several years."

"But Heather, you don't drink." Cheryl pointed out.

“No I don't, I consider it to be an abominable activity. But I also consider catering to my husband, pleasing my husband to be part of my wifely duties. I was very relieved when mother told me that John is going to quit drinking. I fervently hoped that that was the last time I would have to fill up the decanter."

"I noticed that John's study had only a single bed in it. Did you ever sleep with him in his study?"

"No, I didn't. John slept there when he had to get up early the next day, so as not to disturb me. I have a study which is identical to John's in every respect. Bed, refrigerator, coffee maker etc. I sleep in the master bedroom or in my study when he would sleep in his study."

"We would like to talk to Teresa, if you don't mind."

"Sure, go ahead."

Coincidentally, Bob received a call on his cell phone at that moment, speaking very little and mostly listening As he put away his phone, he gave a low whistle:

“Well, our Teresa is not quite what she seems. I heard something very interesting about her just now.”

Rising as one, and followed by Heather, we made our way to the main kitchen and talked to Teresa as she cooked.

"Can you tell us of your movements on the day of your master's death?" Bob asked her.

"Well, isn't much to tell. I was in attendance, to look after the players. See if they needed a drink, a snack etc. There were snacks in the refrigerator in the small kitchenette next to the card room. The bar is nearby. I was in the card room all the time, except when I was fetching for the guests."

"And when your mistress asked you to fill the decanter."

"Well, yes. I took a bottle from the bar, opened it and poured it into the decanter."

"And Mrs. Longbottom immediately took it to the card room?" Cheryl took it up.

"As far as I could see."

"When you went into your master's office, to ask him if he needed a drink, did you see anything unusual in the room?"

"Strange you should ask that. I have a nagging feeling that something was out of kilter in his room, but for the life of me I cannot think what it could be."

“Was it the first or the second time you entered his office? “ Cheryl asked.

“I think it was the second time.”

"Can you recall what it was about? Something on his desk? Perhaps you saw something on his computer?"

Teresa thought hard.

"Well, I really couldn't say for sure. It certainly had nothing to do with the desktop computer. It had the screen saver on, as usual. It was more to do with some housekeeping detail, I think. Being a house keeper I have an eye for such things. But for the life of me I cannot remember exactly what it was."

Bob came to attention:

"Are you saying the computer was working OK when you entered his office?"

"Why, certainly. Why shouldn't it?"

"So, our mysterious killer has certainly been busy" he said to Cheryl." Not only did he put cyanide in the whisky, he also pissed in the whisky and destroyed the computer as well."

"Pissed in the whisky? How disgusting." Teresa put in.

"And what is more, he/she did all this without anybody seeing him/her." Cheryl replied before returning to Teresa.

"How long have you been working for the Longbottoms?"

For about 5 years. Mrs. Longbottom hired me shortly after they were married. But just yesterday I gave my notice. I need a change, I will go somewhere else."

"I assume maids are very much in demand?"

"They are, I will find another position without any trouble."

“Really? You think you could find another job, just like that, here in Utah?”

“Certainly. As a matter of fact, I have already found one.”

“And did they ask you about references? About your real name, for instance? Who hired you, anyway? May I see your driver’s license?”

At once her face fell.

“So you know about me, do you Sergeant?”

“Indeed I do. Best to come clean, don’t you think?”

The slightest of nods and a light sigh indicated she agreed.

“Oh, all right. Then as you probably know, I am not a woman, but a man. I am a pre-op transsexual.”

“And how long have you been pre-op?” Cheryl asked, recovering quickly from the Sergeant’s bombshell.

“For many years now. I can’t afford the gender reassignment surgery.”

“And what were you doing before you started working for Mrs. Longbottom?”

“You and the Sergeant probably know everything anyway, so why ask me?”

We waited.

“Yes,” Teresa said with a put-upon sigh, “I was serving time for armed robbery. My part in it was very minor. That, combined with good behavior, enabled me to get out of prison in a couple of years. But yes, I am a convicted felon.”

“And why did Mrs. Longbottom hire you?”

“It was part of a prison outreach program. As a transsexual, prison was sheer Hell for me. I was facing a bleak future, as a transsexual felon. Mrs. Longbottom was literally my savior; she gave me another chance where nobody else would. I am eternally grateful to her for it.”

“But now you are leaving her, in her hour of need.”

“I talked it over with her, she is OK with that. In fact, when I told her I would like a change, she talked to her friend, Mistress Lilith. Mistress Lilith has offered me a job in her dungeon. I really don’t know what I would have done without Mrs. Longbottom, she is one in a million.”

“Have you known Mistress Lilith for long?” asked Cheryl.

“She and Mrs. Longbottom are friends, so I have seen her several times at the house, I have served her before. But I wouldn’t say that I really know her. Anyway, apparently I was able to fool her. Even after seeing me for several years, she had no clue that I was really a man. She was bowled over when Mrs. Longbottom told her. In a way I was flattered that I was able to fool her. That probably was one of the reasons why she hired me.”

“And did Mr. Longbottom know of your secret?”

“He did, and he had no problem with that.”

“So let us see now. You are a convicted felon. Also a transsexual. If you lost your job here, it would have been very difficult for you to find another job here in Utah. Now, if Mr. Longbottom had given you the sack, would you say that would be enough of a motive for you

to kill him?”

“Me? Kill Mr. Longbottom?”

She stared at us as if we had arrived from the outer rings of Saturn.

“That is a laugh. Longbottoms have done so much for me, they have been so good to me, that if they had thrown me out, I would gladly have left, after thanking them profusely for all they had done for me. People like the Longbottoms are very rare, Sergeant. I would much rather kill myself that even contemplate harming Longbottoms in any way. Believe me or not as you will.”

"Do you know of anybody who would want to kill your master?"

"Well, I can think of at least two people. He had swindled Mr. Forester out of a bunch of money. And then there was that Miss Finch, Mrs. Longbottom's sister."

"What do you know about her?"

"I know she fooled around with the master. One day she came to visit, and Mrs. Longbottom had to go out to her friend's house. There was some emergency. At that time Mr. Longbottom broke off their affair. I overheard the conversation."

“And?” Cheryl pressed.

"Miss Finch was very upset about it. She threw a regular tantrum. She threatened to kill him."

"And how did Mr. Longbottom take the threat?"

"He laughed it off. He told her she was just a kid, and she better get on with her studies. Miss Finch left here hopping mad."

Again, we all three of us shared looks, knowing there was no more to be said at this point. "Thank you for you co-operation, Teresa," Cheryl thanked her and after a few brief words with Heather we left.

**********

Bob called us the next day.

"I have heard from Dr. Peters. He has received OK from American Psychiatric Association, he is willing to talk. I will meet you at his office."

Cheryl’s face was animated with excitement and I got the impression our enquiries would soon be reaching a conclusion.

Her next words confirming my suspicion:

“I believe our interview with Dr. Peters will prove most enlightening."

"John has been visiting me for almost three years now,” Dr Peters told us as we sat before him in his office; the three of us, Cheryl, Sergeant Bob and myself, convinced what he would have to tell us would prove significant. The reticence he had displayed during our last meeting in this office absent now the ethics committee of his particular branch of medical science had given their blessing for him to divulge the details of his treatment of the deceased.

“For the last year,” he began, hands steepled before him contemplatively as he gathered his thoughts, “he mainly talked about Ms Marina. He described some of his sessions with her in great detail. I asked him to write them down, they are in his records."

"Could you photocopy the records for me?" Bob asked.

"No need, Sergeant. I have a chartless office, everything is on the computer. If you give me your E Mail, I will send the records to you."

"And how did he feel about Ms Marina?" Cheryl interjected, a slight tautness of body, recognizable only by me, telling me she was scenting the coming conclusion – or at least some information that would take us a considerable way towards one.

Doctor Peters gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head and answered:

"He was very conflicted about her, Miss Holmes. At one level, he loathed and despised her.”

The head shook some more, this time less imperceptibly.

“At the same time, however, I got the feeling that he was beginning to enjoy the sessions more and more.”

“Enjoy?” the Sergeant came in with frank disbelief. “How could anybody enjoy…”

“My opinion" Dr Peters cut in, a tad irritated, “is that he had a latent masochistic tendency which was activated by these sessions. It was really a love hate relationship."

"Did you know that he was about to break it off with Ms Marina and damn the consequences?" Cheryl asked.

"Yes. It was at my suggestion. Normally, I would not take such a pro-active stance with a patient but this woman was clearly having an adverse effect upon his mental well-being. I told him to break it off as soon as possible, whether he wished to do so or not. I was convinced

that a few more sessions with this despicable Ms Marina and the masochistic and submissive tendencies she had unearthed in him would have started to dominate his consciousness completely. Once that happened, of course, I explained that he would find it very difficult to break it off. Perhaps impossible."

"Did he tell you who this mysterious Ms Marina is?" I asked.

Cue more head shaking.

"With that I can be of no help. He said he preferred to keep that information to himself. I of course, could not and did not force him. And that, I am afraid – unless you wish to hear a more clinical and comprehensive description of the horrors my former patient endured at the hands of this woman – is as far as I can assist you."

I could see a little tic of impatience at the corner of Cheryl’s mouth and I knew she was a little disappointed with the information Dr Peters had provided, though, as ever, she was courtesy itself:

"Thank you, Dr. Peters. You’ve been very helpful and I thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule.”

“We’ll be in touch if we need anything more," Sergeant Bob, told him unnecessarily, unable to shake the years of Police service that led eventually to cliché and self-parody, even amongst the best of his kind.

"No problem, Sergeant. Sorry I was so uncooperative at first, but we have our regulations and guidelines. I wish you the very best in finding this woman."

When the three of us made it back to the police station, Dr Peters had been as good as his word and the documents had been attached to the Sergeant’s email address.

It was with a mixture of high curiosity and the anticipation of revulsion that we downloaded the descriptions of Longbottom’s sessions with the doctor and scanned them through.

"Why, this is absolutely filthy, totally horrible," was Bob's reaction after reading the sessions.

"It beats me how a man like John - or any man worthy of the name – could put up with this Ms Marina for so long."

"Bob, I have an idea,” Cheryl told him, resting a reassuring hand on his arm to calm him after the shock of reading what a member of our sex had perpetrated upon a member of his.

His face as he waited to hear what she had in mind was a mixture of high anger and sheer disgust and it was not difficult to tell that any idea, no matter how unfeasible, would be welcome to him if it took them to the door of Longbottom’s tormentor.

“Suppose we show these sessions to Mistress Lilith?” Cheryl went on. “She may be able to tell us more about what kind of woman this Ms Marina is and how her mind works based upon John's description of the sessions."

Bob was already nodding before Cheryl had finished.

"Sure, you do that and let me know what she says."

“Will you not accompany us?” I asked.

He shook his head, expression remaining thunderous as he attempted to scan some fresh reports that had been waiting for him on his desk when we had arrived:

“The way I feel right now after reading the transcripts of those sessions I don’t think |I could trust myself in the presence of a woman who… You know? No matter how willing the men who pay for her to treat them in such a way and the fact it’s only supposed to be a bit of role-playing.”

Cheryl was all concern and understanding, as was I. To read of such abominations perpetrated upon a fellow human being were difficult enough to take. More so when it was a fellow man and the fiend torturing him was a member of the so-called fair-sex.

"Jane and I understand completely and you may leave Mistress Lilith to us.”

Her eyes indicated the reports he held:

“Any word about Ms Marina yet?"

Attempting a smile, he put himself back on an official footing:

"No, nothing from any of the various police departments. Nothing from Mistress Lilith either, it’s almost as if this Ms Marina is a phantom." He held up the reports he had been scanning.

“But this does give us a few further leads.”

“The biker gang?” I asked.

Sergeant Bob nodded.

“Yes,” Cheryl took it up. “It is, of course, imperative to try to trace the biker gang. I cannot imagine this being a difficult undertaking as I assume there are not too many lesbian biker gangs in Salt Lake City, so…”

“That’s right,” a re-energized Bob came in. “. I didn't even know there was one in Utah, so the chances are this one may be from outside the state.”

“Then we’ll leave you to look into that while we have a chat with Mistress Lilith, if that’s acceptable." The passion evident on our Sergeant’s face left us in no doubt as he nodded with intent :

“Oh, it’s acceptable, ladies. I’ll get on it right away."

He was making phone calls before we could take the few steps that led us from his office…

**********

This time Andrew was not there. Linda again offered us scotch on the rocks (but this time without the offending ice cubes).

…"Interesting." Was Linda's reaction after reading the description. "I can guess a few things about Ms Marina from these sessions."

Both my expression and that of Cheryl’s said:

“Go ahead”.

"First, she does not have a proper dungeon. You may have noticed she uses very little in the way of equipment. That’s revealing.”

We waited to be told why.

Linda took a sip of her martini.

“You will have noticed, no doubt, that I have a fully equipped dungeon and all kinds of equipment filling it. There are a variety of different kinds of whips, canes and nipple clamps. You will also have noticed the flogging block, the enema apparatus and much more.”

Our nods indicated that we had indeed noticed the paraphernalia of her… trade.

“This Ms Marina, however, mostly seems to use – or ‘used’ to be more correct - her body to dominate John. Instead of nipple clamps, she uses clothes pins. Instead of a proper whip, she uses her belt. Her domination consists mainly of humiliation, rather than administering pain."

We waited for her point to emerge, both of us, I suspected, with a sneaking feeling as to what that point may be.

Sure enough:

"This tells me, Linda, went on, “that she is not a professional dominatrix, but an amateur. Maybe that is why I have not heard of her before. Another thing I noticed is that she really seems to hate John.”

What we had read of her treatment of the man from Dr Peter’s sessions with him, I told myself, were hardly indicative of affection.

“That,” Linda was continuing, “is not at all typical of a dom/sub relationship."

“Certainly, in this case,” Cheryl agreed, “there is a certain professional ambivalence missing, it would seem.”

"Just so, my dear. When the relationship takes place between a married couple, the dom loves the sub. A professional dominatrix like me does not love her sub, but she certainly respects him as a client she needs to satisfy.”

“Simple business sense,” I heard myself say, hoping my irony would be missed by our hostess.

It was.

“A dominatrix,” she went on, “does not hate her sub. All the administering of pain, humiliation, torture etc. is a carefully choreographed performance in which both the dom and the sub willingly participate, the terms of the transaction negotiated beforehand."

"From what we know of this ‘transaction’,” I told her, “I think we can say with some certainty that Ms Marina does seem to hate John. Either that or she has an almost superhuman difficulty in allowing her fondness to surface.”

“It would appear that way.” Linda agreed, unfazed by the slight mockery underpinning my tone and for which I could not quite help myself. “But in her way, she also loves him.”

I could see Cheryl nodding, the two of them obviously up-to-speed with something I had yet to spot.

“I would say,” Linda took it up again, directing her words at Cheryl, “that she is -was - somehow personally involved with John, the relationship is not a business relationship."

Again Cheryl was nodding.

"And do you think she is the kind of woman who would be capable of killing John?"

Our hostess responded instantly:

"Oh, absolutely. If her hatred for him became intense enough, she would be quite capable of it. I’m sure Dr. Peters would be able to provide a definitive opinion on the subject."

"And Ms Marina is definitely a female,” Cheryl pressed, “there is no chance that she could be a man?"

"I would say very likely she is a woman, but man is a possibility. But, if it is a man, he would need to be skilled in dressing up as a woman to be able to pull it off. Remember, Ms Marina used to be in intimate contact with John, and, assuming we speak of a man, unless he was an expert in dressing up as a woman he would easily be discovered."

"But Linda,” I came in. “John suckled on her breasts, he licked her vagina to orgasm. Doesn't that tell us that Ms Marina cannot possibly be a man?"

Linda was amused, enjoying be able to parade her knowledge of the more outré realms of sexual commerce before myself and Cheryl.

"You would be surprised at what kinds of props are available these days,” she laughed. “False breasts that could be distinguished from real ones only after a close examination, and then only if one has doubts about them to start with. A realistic looking vagina, with authentic looking pubic hair.”

Even Cheryl’s eyes raised at this.

“Why not?” Linda laughed. “And as all of us in this room know from experience, orgasm can be faked.”

We all of us were in agreement on that truism.

“I am not saying that Ms Marina is a man,” Linda explained.

“The likelihood is she is most probably a woman. But a man certainly can't be ruled out."

Cheryl was deep in thought by now.

"Also, there is another thing that strikes me as an anomaly.”

“Which is?” I prompted when she hesitated.

“Well… That last session as described by John. To me, it seems totally out of character with the others. Almost… Almost as if a totally different dominatrix was present and not Ms Marina."

Cheryl was with us again:

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but in the first four sessions Ms Marina did not expose John to public ridicule. Their… scenes… if we can call them that, were conducted in strict privacy. Also, she did not show any interest in making money off him. As far as we can judge, she didn't even charge him for the sessions."

“Go on,” Cheryl urged.

"And yet, in the final session, she decides to expose him to the public and she pimps him out. She does not care if he is severely injured and lying in a pool of his own blood. And she dumped him on a deserted street for a stranger to pick him up. I’ve given it some thought and I don't know what would make her change towards him so completely."

"The lesbian biker gang were something of a departure too,” Cheryl reminded her.

“Precisely. They are extremely rare and there isn't one in Salt Lake City. Believe me, I would have known if there was one. They must have come here from out of town. Maybe even out of State. The whole session sounds very mysterious, very out of character. In fact, if you pressed me…”

“Yes,” I said expectantly, taking her at her word.

“Well… If you pressed me I would have to say the whole session sounds almost phony."

She let this sink in for a few moments then said:

"I suggest you talk to Dr. Peters about it, he may be able to give you more insights into Ms Marina's personality."

It was a good idea and we duly informed Sergeant Bob of Linda’s suggestion.

**********

Not long after our meeting with Linda, the three of us did indeed talk to Dr. Peters again….

…"What can you tell us about the final session described by John, Doc?" asked Bob.

Dr. Peters thought about it for a long time, either refreshing his memory with the details or deciding how to approach that description.

Then, finally:

"It was that session which made up John's  mind (at my urging) to break it off with Ms Marina and face the consequences."

"Because he was scared Ms Marina may really sell him to the biker gang?"

"No, Sergeant. You see, the entire session was made up, the product of John's vivid imagination."

"What? Did you get that from psychoanalysis?"

"No, John himself told me so. About a week after he gave me the description of the session, he told me that, though the other sessions really happened, he made up the last session. But the fact he had done so told him how deep and how fast he was sinking. He knew that Ms Marina was messing with his mind, and pretty soon he would find it impossible to be able to get out at all. He may even have become a willing slave to her. That  when I strongly urged him to break the relationship off."

“Just like that?” I asked, the likelihood of such a woman allowing him to walk away unscathed hard to buy into.

"No. Not, ‘just like that’, the doctor said, flashing me a look I took to be of mild irritation.

“At no time did Mr Longbottom delude himself that it was going to be simple and he was well aware his reputation would be ruined. There very likely would be a divorce and he may lose his job. He thought it highly likely he could also be faced with lawsuits for financial damages"

"But he was independently wealthy,” Sergeant Bob protested; “he didn't have to work for a living. If things got too bad, too unbearable, he could have moved out of the state, started over again. He could have lived somewhere anonymously but happily."

The doctor reacted with a shrug, ill at ease with his professional standing.

"The alternative was to fall more and more deeply into despair, to become a willing slave of Ms Marina, to love her and hate her at the same time, a life of misery, pain and unhappiness."

Cheryl took it up:

"So he decided to choose the lesser of the two evils?”

“Yes,” Doctor peters agreed. “But the description he wrote of the last session definitely acted as a motivator for him to break it up with Ms Marina"

That evening, after our discussion with the doctor, we were discussing the case in our hotel room and after going over all the details so far, Cheryl was clearly frustrated.

"You know Jane, I can't help but feel that I am overlooking something obvious, something trivial. The murderer is toying with us. I feel that the solution is staring us right in the face, I am just too blind to see it."

“As always, you’re over hard on yourself, my love,” I told her , taking the support role I knew would always bear fruit when she was in a mood of self-recrimination.

"Thank you darling, your faith in me is, as always, touching, but I am convinced it was indeed murder and not suicide.”

My look said: ‘maybe’.

“But who did it, and how it was done, I still have no idea. I’m sure though that, once we know how it was accomplished, the identity of the murderer will be obvious."

I could only nod my concurrence, knowing that once she was on a train of thought it was best to stay silent and allow it to run its course.

“There is, after all, no shortage of suspects. Yes, I know; these are all the women, but even the men cannot be ruled out. Both Andrew and Teresa are experts at dressing as women; they could easily have posed as Ms Marina to John. George is ‘straight’ gay and as far as we know has no transsexual tendencies. But we cannot be sure.”

I nodded thoughtfully, the way most supportive sounding boards would.

“We really cannot rule out any of the six bridge players,” she went on, more to herself than me. “And how was it done? Well, that’s anybody’s guess. How the murderer can piss into the whisky, destroy the computer and murder John in front of eight witnesses, it is all truly baffling.”

"Dear, what you need is a good stiff drink to relax you, like we had at Linda's house. When Andrew served us drinks, I remember it was relaxing, at least to me.”

I opened the door to the adjoining room and called out. “Oh, Jeeves? Scotch on the rocks for Cheryl and for me.”

Reginald raised his eyebrow one eighth of an inch, showing his disapproval. He dislikes me calling him Jeeves, you see; while Cheryl, being more straight laced, always calls him ‘Reginald’, but I do so enjoy teasing him a little from time to time.

“At once, ma’am,” he acquiesced before departing, disapproval for my teasing evident only to those conversant with his somewhat restrained body-language, of which, surprise, surprise, I happen to be one.

At once Cheryl's face underwent a change.

She looked as if she had just had a revelation.

"Drinks, of course. That is how it was done. My God, it is so simple, so obvious that I completely overlooked it. It is beautiful in its simplicity. Jane, you are a dear, a gem. I could kiss you. In fact, why don't I?"

She grabbed me by my arm and pulled me into her embrace. Holding me tightly, she brought her lips to mine and inserted her tongue deep into my mouth. She kissed me fiercely and passionately, her hand playing with my breast as I felt her tongue explore all the inside of my

mouth.

I gave a contented sigh and relaxed in her embrace as our tongues entwined with each other.

This was total bliss.

After a long time, Cheryl broke the kiss.

"Wow honey, thanks.” I said, wiping my mouth with a Kleenex. "What brought that on?"

"What you said, dear. It was profound."

"I will take your word for it, for I have no idea what I said that was so important. But if it worked once, it may work again."

Solemnly I began:

"What you need is a good stiff....."

"Don't push it, blondie. Now go away, leave me alone for half an hour. I have several phone calls to make. Go on, scoot."

A clearing of a throat caught our attentions; during all this, Regi had been standing with two drinks on a tray, waiting for us to finish.

“Oh, thanks Reginald” Cheryl accepted the drink from him.

I was happy for Cheryl, happy that she had found the solution.

"All right, Ms. Great Detective,” I told her, “be mysterious. I am out of here." I threw Regi a look

“Jeeves, draw a bubble bath for me. Put in rose scented gel. I will have my drink in the bath tub.”

It was only after thirty minutes luxuriating in a bubble bath that I roused myself and entered our bedroom naked to find Cheryl waiting for me.

"So who did you call?" I asked, pleased that, despite her preoccupation with the case, my body in all it’s bare glory could still compete with her attentions.

"I called Bernard back in Toronto."

"You mean our detective friend?"

"The same. I gave him a job to do."

"And who is paying for it?" I asked, ever practical.

"Did you forget that I got a check for expenses from Heather? I also called Linda and requested that she cooperate with Bernard. Oh, and here is something that concerns you. I called Bob and requested him to arrange a meeting of all the witnesses for the day after tomorrow evening."

Usually, such a plan of action meant only one of two things.

"Are you going to reveal the killer then? Or is this a trap for somebody?"

"We will see, I haven't decided yet. Anyway, let us put the case out of our mind now and let us celebrate our success. My, but you look ravishing, Jane" Cheryl said as she pulled me into her embrace yet again and proceeded to ravish me. It was quite a celebration. Needless to say, afterwards we both needed a shower.

**********

A note to the reader from Jane Holmes: Dear reader, can you figure it out? Who killed John Longbottom and how was it done? How did the murderer piss in his whiskey without anybody noticing? The clues are all before you. Stay tuned and all will be revealed in part three.

**********