Someone's Daughter

[Peony]

Chapter One

Guv, you need to get down to Darley Woods straight away. It’s… They’ve found a…

A body. OK. Thanks Sarge. Right, you two, with me, pronto.

Darley Woods is on the eastern edge of town, where the council estates run into scrub and run-down allotments. Gravel lanes lead past graffiti-covered lock-up garages and tangled wire fences. Then you’re there. Paths run alongside little brooks and into the darkness of the woods. Birch, Beech and Oak. Small clearings, thickets of thorn bushes. The sort of place people go to take their dog for a walk. Or to hide a corpse.

They’re there in twenty minutes. The car park is closed off with ‘do not cross’ police tape, blue lights reflect in the puddles. It’s overcast, on the edge of raining.

Sir. Over here Sir. It’s..

I know. It’s a body. Right, let’s take a look. Come on. Gloves on. You’ve seen one before.

Sir… it’s… well, it’s pretty awful Sir. Just…

Ok, ok. Lead on then. Let’s get it done.

They walk into the woods, about three hundred metres, then down a faint side-path, pushing through brambles, into a small clearing where a tent has already been erected. The pathologist is there, waiting for them, with a small gathering of uniforms.

Hi John, long time no see. I wish. So, what’ve we got then?

The pathologist takes his glasses from his eyes, wiping drizzle from them.

A woman, young. Mid-twenties I’d guess. Will know more when…

Yep, when you open her up eh?

Well, I think you’ll find someone’s beaten me to that. I’ve never seen one like it. It’s… well, a bit of a mess I think I’d say. She’s a bit of a mess.

Who found her?

A young PC steps forward.

It was a couple Sir, teenagers. In the woods for a bit of…

Yep, I know.

Well, it pretty much spooked them. They phoned straight away. They’re in the car back with the WPC. They’re shaken up Sir.

OK. Well, we’ll speak to them later. Now, let’s take a look.

The DCI pulls back the flap of the tent and walks in. There’s a tree. And what’s left of the young woman.

Fucking hell…Fucking hell. OK you lot, not a word gets out. We’re dealing with some sort of mad man here.

Or men, Sir?

Or women, Sir?

OK, or men or women. Fucking mad anyway. Fucking hell.

The three detectives are staring at the body of the girl. What there is. Her head, her torso. Tied to the tree with a rope under her… where her arms should have been. There’s a rope around her neck, a noose, but it’s been cut and loosened. Her eyes are open. She’s pretty. Startlingly pretty. Blue eyes, chestnut hair. Wavy hair falling over her shoulders, framing her face. Her lips are parted, as if she’s taking a breath.

And then. Blood. Her breasts have been removed. Her abdomen has been slit open. Her bowels removed. Her arms and legs cut off, by the looks of it each with a single axe blow, maybe two. And below the torso, on the ground, neatly laid out, are her arms, her legs, her breasts, her guts.

Fuck me. Sarge, photos. Fuck me.

 

[Peony]

Chapter 1, continued...

Right, John, what do you think?

Well, more after the autopsy, obviously, but to me… it looks like an…er…execution. Look, on the ground, four indentations. Looks like a table has been here… or a butcher’s block. And four holes. I think they may have used spikes to tie her down… if they needed to. Up there, there’s the rest of the rope. Cut. They hung her. Let’s hope that…

Yeah. Let’s hope. Otherwise it’s beyond imagining. Poor girl. Fuck me. In all my… Anyway, thanks. Time of death?

Not that long ago, judging from the temperature of the torso. I’d say early this morning. Around dawn. Before anyone was awake I suppose.

So, we’ve got an execution. Drugs? Gangland? You two, onto the local outfits. Check them out. Any gang war issues, all that stuff. And missing people. Get a shot of her face and try matching. We need to know a name.

When will you have the rest John?

Give me til the afternoon. I need to get her put back together. In my lab. After your SOCO people have cleaned up.

Thanks. This afternoon then.



The autopsy room is spotless: white and pale green, steel, reflecting from the glass on the cabinets.

So… Well, she’s back together. And now we can see her properly, sort of. Five foot four. Age, I’d say my guess was about right. Let’s call her twenty two or three. Slim, athletic build. Good teeth. And she ate well before… well…before this. Lightly but well. Oysters, would you believe it? And smoked salmon. Only a little alcohol in her blood. No drugs. Well, not quite. A very small quantity of pain-killer, and some antibiotics. Not enough to stop much pain though, to be honest.

How did she die then John?

Well, I’d like to say she asphyxiated quickly. But the noose, well, it certainly didn’t snap anything. And the marks on her neck, not enough pressure for long enough to kill. And none of the tell-tale capillary damage to her eyes. So not that.

But they did hang her?

Oh yes, but not for long. Then they cut her down. And then…

What?

Well, let’s say she bled out. No cardiac arrest, so she bled out. Very slowly. As they cut her apart.

So…she was alive then? When they did it?

Very much so I’m afraid. She was, how to say this, hung drawn and quartered. Literally. Her quarters cut off after her entrails had been cut from her. A very medieval execution method, but really one only used on men. It was too indecent for the fairer sex. At lease this side of the Channel. Our continental friends were often rather more brutal I believe… Anyway, no niceties here. They executed her in the cruellest way man has been able to imagine.

But that’s not all. Her back. Covered in lacerations. Whip marks. And not just the new ones. Lots of old ones too. Healed. And on her front too. And her thighs. Lots of whip marks, and marks of tying. On her wrists and ankles. Old marks. She’d been, well, I’d say, tortured over a very long period.

Any distinguishing marks John? We need to find a name.

Only this. Look, I’ve made a photo. On her shoulder. See? Very small cursive script, rather nicely done actually…

‘C’est toujours par voie de douleur, on arrive au Plaisir”

French?

French indeed. The Marquis de Sade to be accurate. Roughly translated, ‘only though pain can one arrive at pleasure’… I think we are dealing with someone rather strange here Tom. Someone who, perhaps…

What? Wanted it? No way John. No way. They killed this girl. Maybe she was into whatever, BDSM or whatever, but this? No way. We need a name and we have to find her killers. We have to remember that whatever she might have been up to, in the end, she was someone’s daughter.

 

[Fossy]

Chapter 1, continued...

Right, John, what do you think?

Well, more after the autopsy, obviously, but to me… it looks like an…er…execution. Look, on the ground, four indentations. Looks like a table has been here… or a butcher’s block. And four holes. I think they may have used spikes to tie her down… if they needed to. Up there, there’s the rest of the rope. Cut. They hung her. Let’s hope that…

Yeah. Let’s hope. Otherwise it’s beyond imagining. Poor girl. Fuck me. In all my… Anyway, thanks. Time of death?

Not that long ago, judging from the temperature of the torso. I’d say early this morning. Around dawn. Before anyone was awake I suppose.

So, we’ve got an execution. Drugs? Gangland? You two, onto the local outfits. Check them out. Any gang war issues, all that stuff. And missing people. Get a shot of her face and try matching. We need to know a name.

When will you have the rest John?

Give me til the afternoon. I need to get her put back together. In my lab. After your SOCO people have cleaned up.

Thanks. This afternoon then.



The autopsy room is spotless: white and pale green, steel, reflecting from the glass on the cabinets.

So… Well, she’s back together. And now we can see her properly, sort of. Five foot four. Age, I’d say my guess was about right. Let’s call her twenty two or three. Slim, athletic build. Good teeth. And she ate well before… well…before this. Lightly but well. Oysters, would you believe it? And smoked salmon. Only a little alcohol in her blood. No drugs. Well, not quite. A very small quantity of pain-killer, and some antibiotics. Not enough to stop much pain though, to be honest.

How did she die then John?

Well, I’d like to say she asphyxiated quickly. But the noose, well, it certainly didn’t snap anything. And the marks on her neck, not enough pressure for long enough to kill. And none of the tell-tale capillary damage to her eyes. So not that.

But they did hang her?

Oh yes, but not for long. Then they cut her down. And then…

What?

Well, let’s say she bled out. No cardiac arrest, so she bled out. Very slowly. As they cut her apart.

So…she was alive then? When they did it?

Very much so I’m afraid. She was, how to say this, hung drawn and quartered. Literally. Her quarters cut off after her entrails had been cut from her. A very medieval execution method, but really one only used on men. It was too indecent for the fairer sex. At lease this side of the Channel. Our continental friends were often rather more brutal I believe… Anyway, no niceties here. They executed her in the cruellest way man has been able to imagine.

But that’s not all. Her back. Covered in lacerations. Whip marks. And not just the new ones. Lots of old ones too. Healed. And on her front too. And her thighs. Lots of whip marks, and marks of tying. On her wrists and ankles. Old marks. She’d been, well, I’d say, tortured over a very long period.

Any distinguishing marks John? We need to find a name.

Only this. Look, I’ve made a photo. On her shoulder. See? Very small cursive script, rather nicely done actually…

‘C’est toujours par voie de douleur, on arrive au Plaisir”

French?

French indeed. The Marquis de Sade to be accurate. Roughly translated, ‘only though pain can one arrive at pleasure’… I think we are dealing with someone rather strange here Tom. Someone who, perhaps…

What? Wanted it? No way John. No way. They killed this girl. Maybe she was into whatever, BDSM or whatever, but this? No way. We need a name and we have to find her killers. We have to remember that whatever she might have been up to, in the end, she was someone’s daughter.

Stunning start @Peony - one of your favourite methods of execution told retrospectively by way of a heinous murder case.

Really looking forward to the next chapter ...

 

[prtn]

Good start! it seems this is gonna be a backwards story

 

[Peony]

Chapter 2

My name is Jaydi, or that’s the name I call myself by, and this is my story.

First thing to know, I’m no-one’s daughter. Well, in the strictest sense I am. I had a mother. But I was adopted at birth, and then that all went shit, and I was fostered here and there and ended up in a crap home for kids like me. I can’t tell you how crap it was. Let’s just say that I wasn’t ‘looked after’. The guys who ran the place. Well, guess… When I sat watching TV on Sunday nights with the lads they’d sidle up and say how cute I was and that they bet all the boy’s fancied me and then they’d. Well, guess… That said, I was pretty cute. Curly brown hair, a sweet English rose face, blue eyes, and, for my age I guess they liked my body, which, when I looked in the mirror, I sort of liked too.

Odd thing was, I liked school. I loved reading. But I hated the whole rules thing. So I quit as soon as I could. I’d read everything anyway. All the Brontes and all the other stuff. I loved it. But I wanted a place with no rules. And I found it. Doing this, doing that. You know. For a bit of cash. I’d buy a book though, not a line. I just didn’t like drugs. Didn’t stop me selling though. Good cash that. And then, well, it was just too easy for a pretty thing like me to get myself a bit of a sugar-daddy and when that fouled up (coz I broke his rules) to get a gig with an agency. Shit old men, mostly, but easy work and nice cash and a place to stay in and, well, the other girls were nice too. And I discovered sex. The sort I liked. With my blonde girl from the Balkans… Shan’t tell you her name. And it was her, one night, that took me to the club. Never been anywhere like it. But I knew it was for me. Hot and sweaty and lots of semi-naked bodies and chains and ropes and a girl on the stage with a whip and another girl and I wanted to be that girl and soon I was and I fucking loved it.

And that’s where my ‘descent’ started I guess. And if you’re reading this, well, lucky you... There's more to come sweetie!

 

[Fossy]

Chapter 2

My name is Jaydi, or that’s the name I call myself by, and this is my story.

First thing to know, I’m no-one’s daughter. Well, in the strictest sense I am. I had a mother. But I was adopted at birth, and then that all went shit, and I was fostered here and there and ended up in a crap home for kids like me. I can’t tell you how crap it was. Let’s just say that I wasn’t ‘looked after’. The guys who ran the place. Well, guess… When I sat watching TV on Sunday nights with the lads they’d sidle up and say how cute I was and that they bet all the boy’s fancied me and then they’d. Well, guess… That said, I was pretty cute. Curly brown hair, a sweet English rose face, blue eyes, and, for my age I guess they liked my body, which, when I looked in the mirror, I sort of liked too.

Odd thing was, I liked school. I loved reading. But I hated the whole rules thing. So I quit as soon as I could. I’d read everything anyway. All the Brontes and all the other stuff. I loved it. But I wanted a place with no rules. And I found it. Doing this, doing that. You know. For a bit of cash. I’d buy a book though, not a line. I just didn’t like drugs. Didn’t stop me selling though. Good cash that. And then, well, it was just too easy for a pretty thing like me to get myself a bit of a sugar-daddy and when that fouled up (coz I broke his rules) to get a gig with an agency. Shit old men, mostly, but easy work and nice cash and a place to stay in and, well, the other girls were nice too. And I discovered sex. The sort I liked. With my blonde girl from the Balkans… Shan’t tell you her name. And it was her, one night, that took me to the club. Never been anywhere like it. But I knew it was for me. Hot and sweaty and lots of semi-naked bodies and chains and ropes and a girl on the stage with a whip and another girl and I wanted to be that girl and soon I was and I fucking loved it.

And that’s where my ‘descent’ started I guess. And if you’re reading this, well, lucky you... There's more to come sweetie!

Damn that's good, P. Already seeing this on Netflix in my mind's eye. More please ...

 

[Peony]

Chapter 2 continued

So, dear reader, I think I may have misled you slightly, because, in truth, it didn’t all kick-off at the Kit Kat Club (let’s call it that). I sometimes try not to remember, but the beginnings were back in that home for looked-after children. Naughty late teens. And it was always on a Sunday. Me and Julie, the two prettiest girls by far (if I say so myself… she was so petite, with short pixie blonde hair and a tight little body) were called in to the staff room, after lunch (it was foul, the food). They’d be there, the two of them. They seemed old to me but I guess they were in their thirties or so. Sitting there, they’d be, on those bent wood chairs.

And they’d tell us. The same every time. ‘On your knees girlies’. And we did. I think I knew it was wrong, but I think I thought I deserved it. I was a slut and a nothing, wasn’t I? And they opened their flies and pulled out their dicks and with us on our knees they’d stroke themselves til they were hard and then tell us to suck them. And we just did it.

My hair was quite long and curly, like it is now, and it would get into my mouth, so he’d pull it back with one hand and tug hard on it, and he’d shove his other hand down my blouse and squeeze my tits. I would just carry on, and sometimes I’d sort of step outside of myself and look at me and Julie there on our knees sucking these two blokes off.

And after they’d score us. One to ten. And the ‘loser’ had to get up and pull down her skirt and bend over the low table, and the winner had to give her a good beating with one of their belts. And it always hurt, coz they would hit us if we went light. But I sort of didn’t mind.

Me and Julie, we got used to Sundays. And after we’d sneak into each other’s bedroom and we’d cuddle up and kiss a bit. Not that I knew that made us lezzies then. And, and this is the odd part, we’d take our blouses off and take turns at slapping each other on the tits. We laughed and cried and did it till our tits were red. Then we’d cuddle again and kiss again and that was our Sunday routine really.

So I guess that trip to the KKC just woke up something in me. I never saw Julie again after the home. I wonder what she got up to. Probably stuff like me. We were both sluts really. Nothing sluts and fuck sluts for the guys. They taught us a lot at that fucking school.

 

[Fossy]

Chapter 2 continued

So, dear reader, I think I may have misled you slightly, because, in truth, it didn’t all kick-off at the Kit Kat Club (let’s call it that). I sometimes try not to remember, but the beginnings were back in that home for looked-after children. Naughty late teens. And it was always on a Sunday. Me and Julie, the two prettiest girls by far (if I say so myself… she was so petite, with short pixie blonde hair and a tight little body) were called in to the staff room, after lunch (it was foul, the food). They’d be there, the two of them. They seemed old to me but I guess they were in their thirties or so. Sitting there, they’d be, on those bent wood chairs.

And they’d tell us. The same every time. ‘On your knees girlies’. And we did. I think I knew it was wrong, but I think I thought I deserved it. I was a slut and a nothing, wasn’t I? And they opened their flies and pulled out their dicks and with us on our knees they’d stroke themselves til they were hard and then tell us to suck them. And we just did it.

My hair was quite long and curly, like it is now, and it would get into my mouth, so he’d pull it back with one hand and tug hard on it, and he’d shove his other hand down my blouse and squeeze my tits. I would just carry on, and sometimes I’d sort of step outside of myself and look at me and Julie there on our knees sucking these two blokes off.

And after they’d score us. One to ten. And the ‘loser’ had to get up and pull down her skirt and bend over the low table, and the winner had to give her a good beating with one of their belts. And it always hurt, coz they would hit us if we went light. But I sort of didn’t mind.

Me and Julie, we got used to Sundays. And after we’d sneak into each other’s bedroom and we’d cuddle up and kiss a bit. Not that I knew that made us lezzies then. And, and this is the odd part, we’d take our blouses off and take turns at slapping each other on the tits. We laughed and cried and did it till our tits were red. Then we’d cuddle again and kiss again and that was our Sunday routine really.

So I guess that trip to the KKC just woke up something in me. I never saw Julie again after the home. I wonder what she got up to. Probably stuff like me. We were both sluts really. Nothing sluts and fuck sluts for the guys. They taught us a lot at that fucking school.

Such evocative narrative P. Loved it. I actually find myself wondering what happened to Julie. Looking forward to the next chapter ...

 

[Peony]

Chapter 3

I’m in one of those old-fashioned brown cafes by an Amsterdam canal, settled into a corner seat with a glass of beer, and with him. It’s taken a while and some persuasion but he’s agreed to talk.

So, you ok with this? With the tape recorder and everything?

Sure, that’s what we agreed. But…no, I trust you.

OK. So, how does it feel to be a murderer then?

Well, I’m not sure I’d really call myself that… After all… It wasn’t quite like that.

His name is Steven. English, mid-thirties. Well-dressed in a sort of preppy way. Steven, of course, is not his real name.

What was it then?

Look, I think I better start at the beginning… I met her, Jaydi that is, at the KK Club. You’ve heard of it maybe? Actually, no… I first met her before that, when she was still working for the agency. Just a quicky on a Friday afternoon. Nothing special. I often went down there to see who was around, you know, like a quick line of coke. A relaxer before I met up with the boys for a few beers… Anyway, I remembered her. She was, what, about nineteen maybe? Hot. I mean really pretty. Really pretty. Didn’t think much more about her though, coz next time she was gone. And then, there she was, at the KK. I was with mates. We went from time to time. Watching mainly. A few bottles of fizz and a bit of hot babe action. And boy, she was hot. Super hot. And, you know, I was already quite into S&M… I’d done a bit, I knew the rules, knew the ropes… Ha…the ropes…

But wait a minute… we’ve talked, we’ve agreed this interview, but how on earth did you find me?

A journo’s sources are never disclosed, you know that. But let’s say I had a few inside tracks and, well, I’m a bit smarter than plod, aren’t I?

And prettier too, if you don’t…

I do… Back to the story Steven.

So, I saw her and I had to see her again. And I kept going back and staring, and eventually I guess she worked out that I was…interested… and after her set… What a set! Almost a crucifixion, a whipping, nothing soft! This girl could take punishment. She loved it! Anyway, after, she sort of sidled up to me and we got chatting…

 

[Fossy]

Chapter 3

I’m in one of those old-fashioned brown cafes by an Amsterdam canal, settled into a corner seat with a glass of beer, and with him. It’s taken a while and some persuasion but he’s agreed to talk.

So, you ok with this? With the tape recorder and everything?

Sure, that’s what we agreed. But…no, I trust you.

OK. So, how does it feel to be a murderer then?

Well, I’m not sure I’d really call myself that… After all… It wasn’t quite like that.

His name is Steven. English, mid-thirties. Well-dressed in a sort of preppy way. Steven, of course, is not his real name.

What was it then?

Look, I think I better start at the beginning… I met her, Jaydi that is, at the KK Club. You’ve heard of it maybe? Actually, no… I first met her before that, when she was still working for the agency. Just a quicky on a Friday afternoon. Nothing special. I often went down there to see who was around, you know, like a quick line of coke. A relaxer before I met up with the boys for a few beers… Anyway, I remembered her. She was, what, about nineteen maybe? Hot. I mean really pretty. Really pretty. Didn’t think much more about her though, coz next time she was gone. And then, there she was, at the KK. I was with mates. We went from time to time. Watching mainly. A few bottles of fizz and a bit of hot babe action. And boy, she was hot. Super hot. And, you know, I was already quite into S&M… I’d done a bit, I knew the rules, knew the ropes… Ha…the ropes…

But wait a minute… we’ve talked, we’ve agreed this interview, but how on earth did you find me?

A journo’s sources are never disclosed, you know that. But let’s say I had a few inside tracks and, well, I’m a bit smarter than plod, aren’t I?

And prettier too, if you don’t…

I do… Back to the story Steven.

So, I saw her and I had to see her again. And I kept going back and staring, and eventually I guess she worked out that I was…interested… and after her set… What a set! Almost a crucifixion, a whipping, nothing soft! This girl could take punishment. She loved it! Anyway, after, she sort of sidled up to me and we got chatting…

View attachment 1225820

And so the plot develops. Love the styles your employing here P, very stimulating...

 

[Peony]

Chapter 3 continued

As simple as that… and you end up killing her?

Hey, I said, let me tell the story from the start. And stop thinking of me as a murderer or something. It’s better, well, if you think of me as a kind of agent, a facilitator. For me, well, I got something from it. Our relationship. I’m the S in S&M, the dom. She’s, she was, the M. The sub. And it needs both. Both have to play along and both get something out of it. Pleasure, essentially. So, we got chatting, and I bought her a drink or two and we exchanged numbers. Like it happens. You know.

And then what?

Slowly… Well, we began to meet. Never at the club again. I said we needed to keep it between ourselves, our arrangement. I have a serious job, I couldn’t let myself get into a situation where…

But you could get into a situation where it was ok to kill her…

Look, do you want to carry on? If you do, then I suggest you suspend judgement a little bit. Look, it’s getting on. I know a nice Indonesian place, let’s get something to eat.

And that’s what we did. I felt a bit strange, eating Nasi Goreng with a killer, a brutal killer at that, but he was, well, attractive and charming and we talked about all sorts of things… not just… And I suppose I wasn’t totally surprised when I ended up agreeing when he asked me back to his hotel. A dingy place of Damrak, he said he didn’t want to be somewhere where he could be easily traced. This place took cash, and a bribe to keep silent. It all felt very, well, scary. But I went along with it. And he was a great fucker, really good. He asked me if I wanted to try anything extra. He had some lengths of purple silk with him. He pointed to the bedstead. And I nodded. Why not, I thought. All part of the research. He said he’d only go as far as I wanted. That was always the rule, he said. So if I wanted to stop at a bit of light bondage, that was fine. And it was. We stopped there. And I confess it was good. I sort of got it. But this was lipstick BDSM… That poor girl, Jaydi, she’d…well, it wasn’t lipstick for her.

The next morning. We’re getting breakfast in a little place in Jordaan. Coffee and pastries. And we talk some more.

Last night, enjoy it?

I hesitate, but answer

Yes, you’re good in bed. And yes, I did like the other stuff too.

Want to go a bit further next time?

Now I really do hesitate.

Look, let’s get back to the story, that’s what I’m here to talk about.

OK. Well, I was telling you how we met, how we got to know each other and our needs. And soon she came to stay at my place. It’s a big place, by the Common.

Pricey…

Well, I can afford it. No problems.

And her?

I could afford her too. To keep her. And she was ok with that. Probably the best place she ever got to stay in. Her own room, everything.

And you tortured her there?

Look, you still don’t get it. We had an agreement. But yes, I got a few things sorted, quietly, and yes, in my basement, I set up a pretty little torture chamber. But sometimes we just got on with it in the bedroom. Like last night.

And visitors? Didn’t they think it was odd?

Ah… well, they never saw her. I’d put her downstairs, tape her mouth, tie her on the rack. A nice little stretch and the promise of a good whipping if she kept silent. She always did. She always wanted her whipping…And she always got it. I never played games with her.

So how did it end up like it did?

Ah… That’s another long story…

He sees me looking at my watch…

But look, you’ve been here longer than you intended. And I have some things I have to do… And, well, I think I trust you…so…

Yeah?

So let’s carry on this conversation. Back in London. You can come to my place. I can show you…

Alright. Let’s do that.

I can’t believe what I’ve just agreed to…

 

[Fossy]

Chapter 3 continued

As simple as that… and you end up killing her?

Hey, I said, let me tell the story from the start. And stop thinking of me as a murderer or something. It’s better, well, if you think of me as a kind of agent, a facilitator. For me, well, I got something from it. Our relationship. I’m the S in S&M, the dom. She’s, she was, the M. The sub. And it needs both. Both have to play along and both get something out of it. Pleasure, essentially. So, we got chatting, and I bought her a drink or two and we exchanged numbers. Like it happens. You know.

And then what?

Slowly… Well, we began to meet. Never at the club again. I said we needed to keep it between ourselves, our arrangement. I have a serious job, I couldn’t let myself get into a situation where…

But you could get into a situation where it was ok to kill her…

Look, do you want to carry on? If you do, then I suggest you suspend judgement a little bit. Look, it’s getting on. I know a nice Indonesian place, let’s get something to eat.

And that’s what we did. I felt a bit strange, eating Nasi Goreng with a killer, a brutal killer at that, but he was, well, attractive and charming and we talked about all sorts of things… not just… And I suppose I wasn’t totally surprised when I ended up agreeing when he asked me back to his hotel. A dingy place of Damrak, he said he didn’t want to be somewhere where he could be easily traced. This place took cash, and a bribe to keep silent. It all felt very, well, scary. But I went along with it. And he was a great fucker, really good. He asked me if I wanted to try anything extra. He had some lengths of purple silk with him. He pointed to the bedstead. And I nodded. Why not, I thought. All part of the research. He said he’d only go as far as I wanted. That was always the rule, he said. So if I wanted to stop at a bit of light bondage, that was fine. And it was. We stopped there. And I confess it was good. I sort of got it. But this was lipstick BDSM… That poor girl, Jaydi, she’d…well, it wasn’t lipstick for her.

The next morning. We’re getting breakfast in a little place in Jordaan. Coffee and pastries. And we talk some more.

Last night, enjoy it?

I hesitate, but answer

Yes, you’re good in bed. And yes, I did like the other stuff too.

Want to go a bit further next time?

Now I really do hesitate.

Look, let’s get back to the story, that’s what I’m here to talk about.

OK. Well, I was telling you how we met, how we got to know each other and our needs. And soon she came to stay at my place. It’s a big place, by the Common.

Pricey…

Well, I can afford it. No problems.

And her?

I could afford her too. To keep her. And she was ok with that. Probably the best place she ever got to stay in. Her own room, everything.

And you tortured her there?

Look, you still don’t get it. We had an agreement. But yes, I got a few things sorted, quietly, and yes, in my basement, I set up a pretty little torture chamber. But sometimes we just got on with it in the bedroom. Like last night.

And visitors? Didn’t they think it was odd?

Ah… well, they never saw her. I’d put her downstairs, tape her mouth, tie her on the rack. A nice little stretch and the promise of a good whipping if she kept silent. She always did. She always wanted her whipping…And she always got it. I never played games with her.

So how did it end up like it did?

Ah… That’s another long story…

He sees me looking at my watch…

But look, you’ve been here longer than you intended. And I have some things I have to do… And, well, I think I trust you…so…

Yeah?

So let’s carry on this conversation. Back in London. You can come to my place. I can show you…

Alright. Let’s do that.

I can’t believe what I’ve just agreed to…

This is so damn good P. Excellent ... can't wait for more. The way you feed the reader enough to piece together the story, but leave enough out for us to get creative ... love it ...

 

[Peony]

Chapter 4

Right, we’ve all seen the autopsy. This girl was executed in the most brutal manner imaginable. And the perp is out there somewhere, maybe thinking he’s got away with it.

Or she’s got away with it boss.

Yeah. But we know it’s a guy, don’t we. Look at the photos for god’s sake. Anyway, any leads from the photos?

Lots of calls boss… lots of the usuals… but there’s this one girl who sounded like she’s for real. Julie. Claims she was in a home with the victim. About 4 or 5 years back.

So, we should have a name then.

Yeah, I followed up with the place. Or with the authority. It was closed down. Abuse cases. Anyway, they do have a record, but it doesn’t tally. According to them she was Sally James. But according to Julie her name was always Jaydi. Not that Julie’s too reliable. A crack-head. Does the streets now. Was pretty upset though. She said they were best mates. Didn’t know what happened to her though. She thought she probably went into escorting, mentioned that she’d stayed in touch for a few months..

And the usual places? Have you checked them out?

Sure boss. No pics up on line, so she’s not active. But I asked around. You know, Bill, used to be one of us, runs that high-end place in Ken now…well, not that high-end, but pretty good. We sort of…

Yeah, we let him be. He doesn’t fuck us around with trafficked Romanians does he?

Anyway, he thought he remembered her. Not with him, but he’d been interested in hiring her. Pretty he said. He confirmed her name, or the one she used, was Jaydi. Nothing else though. He couldn’t remember who she’d been with, but it wasn’t for long. Then she went of the scene. And that’s it. Nothing else.

Anything from the tatts?

Not local boss. I checked with a few parlours. Not their sort of work. Wrong ink apparently. Not one we use in the UK. Health and safety stuff. They use it in France though. And Belgium.

So…that’s really not going to get us far is it? But we know she was into S&M, or we think so. Checked the clubs?

No-one knows her boss. Or they say they don’t. They keep pretty quiet about their customers. For obvious reasons I guess…

Well, we need to push harder. Someone out there knows her. Let’s try those clubs again.

 

[Fossy]

Chapter 4

Right, we’ve all seen the autopsy. This girl was executed in the most brutal manner imaginable. And the perp is out there somewhere, maybe thinking he’s got away with it.

Or she’s got away with it boss.

Yeah. But we know it’s a guy, don’t we. Look at the photos for god’s sake. Anyway, any leads from the photos?

Lots of calls boss… lots of the usuals… but there’s this one girl who sounded like she’s for real. Julie. Claims she was in a home with the victim. About 4 or 5 years back.

So, we should have a name then.

Yeah, I followed up with the place. Or with the authority. It was closed down. Abuse cases. Anyway, they do have a record, but it doesn’t tally. According to them she was Sally James. But according to Julie her name was always Jaydi. Not that Julie’s too reliable. A crack-head. Does the streets now. Was pretty upset though. She said they were best mates. Didn’t know what happened to her though. She thought she probably went into escorting, mentioned that she’d stayed in touch for a few months..

And the usual places? Have you checked them out?

Sure boss. No pics up on line, so she’s not active. But I asked around. You know, Bill, used to be one of us, runs that high-end place in Ken now…well, not that high-end, but pretty good. We sort of…

Yeah, we let him be. He doesn’t fuck us around with trafficked Romanians does he?

Anyway, he thought he remembered her. Not with him, but he’d been interested in hiring her. Pretty he said. He confirmed her name, or the one she used, was Jaydi. Nothing else though. He couldn’t remember who she’d been with, but it wasn’t for long. Then she went of the scene. And that’s it. Nothing else.

Anything from the tatts?

Not local boss. I checked with a few parlours. Not their sort of work. Wrong ink apparently. Not one we use in the UK. Health and safety stuff. They use it in France though. And Belgium.

So…that’s really not going to get us far is it? But we know she was into S&M, or we think so. Checked the clubs?

No-one knows her boss. Or they say they don’t. They keep pretty quiet about their customers. For obvious reasons I guess…

Well, we need to push harder. Someone out there knows her. Let’s try those clubs again.

Are they getting closer ... maybe, maybe not. They need to listen to Julie! Another great chapter P.

 

[Peony]

Chapter 4 continued

OK Julie, you're our best lead. You knew Jaydi...you were pretty close yes?

Yeah. Well, it was a shit hole wasn't it? And yeah, well we hunkered down together...

And after the home? Coz I'm guessing you were still with her...

Look, don't get me wrong...I'm torn up that she's gone, but I just...

Don't want trouble...Look, you're not in trouble, ok? But you stayed together?

Yeah. It was a shitty room...still is. But I loved being with her. We both worked at the same place...

The agency?

Yeah. But she got bored. She wanted more and more from me. You know, we were both into S&M? Light stuff. But she met this other girl...Eastern European. Really gorgeous. Blonde. And she wanted something new. I bet she'd deny that we were a pair after the home. She wanted to forget all that. And that meant forgetting me.

Can't have been easy...

I fucking loved her...Jaydi...but she wanted out. She went to this club with the other girl...

Name?

Kate..Katya...something like that...

And the club?

Like a choc bar. Kit Kat.

OK...and then?

Well...we were still sharing, but she was distant. And really into it. Most nights. She was a mess. Covered in marks. Like they whipped her every night. And then she'd fuck with Katya and I'd be on the sofa and then...

She just went. Disappeared. Blocked me on her phone. Vanished. And now...fuck, I really loved that girl. Fuck look at the state of me...

Julie, you've been really helpful. We're going to get the bastards that did this to her...It's a promise.

 

[Fossy]

I am so invested in this P. Just wow. The structure and development is just terrific. So many disparate routes all leading to the same place. Love it.
I actually feel sympathy for Julie ... so clearly left behind as Jaydi's need for S&M evolved and became greater ...

 

[Lace]

Hi @Peony. Sorry I'm late to this one but it's so good. I really wanna be one of these girls, the main one I guess without the murderous end if possible . Really really good xx

 

[Peony]

Chapter 5

Anyway, I left you at the lovely, sweet, adorable KK…or, well, with Julie at that fucking home. But back to the KK… I just hearted it! I couldn’t go enough. I loved the sweat, the flesh, the lighting, the ‘cave-iness’ (is that a word?) of it all. I loved being grabbed and spanked by people I didn’t know (boys and girls!) and, after a while, I loved going up on that little stage. Having my clothes cut off (if I had any on!), having my arms chained up, having my tits and back whipped, having someone eat me out while they were doing it, getting tied up tight and having something shoved into me, getting wax dripped on me, getting water sprayed at me, getting so fucking hot I thought I would burn up.

And someone always bought me a drink. And I was someone that someone always wanted to take home. And sometimes I went. It was usually a sad disappointment. But then I’d be back, with my Balkan babe, for a bit more and a little bit more…I guess I noticed that I was getting marked up and that sometimes the bruises and the weeny red lines stayed and got layered-up with new ones and I sort of liked that…

Then he sidled up to me. Smart, sassy. Confident. I’d been doing a crux set. Really tough, but wow! Really really wow… I loved it. I was exhausted, covered in welts, my wrists and ankles all red from the ropes, naked and sweaty. And he came up and put his hand on my ass and slid it round and very slowly put his fingers into me… I sort of knew. He put me on a chair, an old bent wood one that brought back special memories. He tied my ankles to it so I couldn’t move, then he went to get me a drink. We sat and talked and he stroked my tits and my pussy and said how beautiful I was and that… Well…

So he gave me his number and said to dial. And the next day I did and he asked me round to his place. Shit! What a fucking house! This guy was loaded!

Anyway, I stayed. He was happy with that. I still went to the KK, but less often, and usually he didn’t come. If he did he sort of hid. But I was getting what I wanted from him. He had a fucking dungeon! It was just amazing! In the cellar. Everything else in the house was white and steel and modern, but the cellar was bare Victorian bricks and he’d got chains on the walls and a wooden X-cross and a real fucking rack! Wow. And we used everything. Sometimes upstairs, you know, ropes and crops and whatever, sometimes a long sess in the cellar. I fucking loved it. And if folks came he’d tie me downstairs on the rack. At first he’d gag me, but he stopped that once he knew I wouldn’t be a problem. And once he brought a girlfriend down to look at me, tied and stretched out there. Shit, I bet they fucked well after that.

So it all worked. He got what he wanted, I got what I wanted.

Then he decided we should have a holiday. In Europe. He said I would find it interesting. I did. Lots of stuff to sort, coz I had to get a birth cert to get a passport and shit, but we did it. Then we travelled separately. He was always careful. And then we ended up in Paris. Where I got my pretty little tattoo.

I loved our weekend in Paris…

 

[Fossy]

And if folks came he’d tie me downstairs on the rack. At first he’d gag me, but he stopped that once he knew I wouldn’t be a problem. And once he brought a girlfriend down to look at me, tied and stretched out there. Shit, I bet they fucked well after that.

Now that P is very erotic ... a great read as always ...

 

[Peony]

Chapter 5 continued

You want to know about my little perfect tatt, don’t you?

‘C’est toujours par voie de douleur, on arrive au Plaisir”

All done in the most amazing ink and so tiny and so fine. And the words, well, they’re perfect. The guy had asked me what I wanted. I had no idea. So he got me chatting, and asked me what I was into, and I…well, why not I though? I’ll never see him again. So I told him and he said he had just the words for me, written by some old French guy. Sort of says you only come to pleasure through pain, and for me, that’s bang on. Nearly always. Anyway, it’s the way to the best pleasure, the pleasure that is the deepest and that really lasts. Everything else just fades. But I can look at my marked up body after a whipping and it’s all there. My pain is all over me. And it stays. And then we do it again. I fucking love being whipped and hurt. So, that’s my lovely little tatt…

And the other nice thing about Paris was the blue-haired girl…Well, he was busy, so he gave me his card and told me to go shopping… So I was wandering around a sort of boho-chic bit of the 3rd and found this little shop and went in and she was working there alone. And I liked some stuff, and tried it on and asked her. And she looked at my tatt and said she liked it and next thing she’d locked the door and we were going wild in the back, ripping off our clothes and fucking like there was no tomorrow and we just couldn’t stop… Wow! Did we scream!!! She was fucking hot. We were soaked in sweat and gasping for breath.

She went back to the loo, and I texted him.

It was the weirdest message I ever sent anyone.

‘I’ve met this super hot girl. She has pierced nipples. Let’s fix to meet up with her in a bar later then we can take her somewhere and kill her.”

We met up at seven in a little dark place in the Marais.

She hadn’t arrived yet.

He bought me a drink and smiled at me, then slapped me hard across the face.

“Fucking stupid little cunt” he said.

He had tickets for the eight thirty train to Hamburg. We left. I never saw her again.