Discover more from Sin Street
Welcome to chapter seven of an ongoing gritty noir series from ‘Sin Street’ created in partnership between Kate Granger and Sissitrix. Chapters published weekly on Friday’s.
Follow a woman’s desperate tale of humiliation starting in a pit of despair before her rebirth, revenge, and resurgence. This series began in a dark place because it must.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
I felt more alive than at any other time in my life. Max’s remonstrations were trivial and resulted from his genuine concern about my suddenly violent and terrifying behavior.
The hatred I'd felt made me feel ashamed, but I knew fire must be fought with fire.
I realized Max meant well, but I was on the warpath, in need of shock and awe tactics to avoid more bloodshed than was necessary. He worried I was losing my soul, and the truth was, much of my lifetime of tender spirit had vanished on the couch of a gambling den while my husband watched me being desecrated.
I wasn’t completely lost though, and Max needed to understand that.
We drove away from Chester’s office to finish a job I’d started. I glanced at Max and saw reluctance writ large on his face.
“You don’t have to come to the Fuck Factory for Chester’s interrogation.”
“What will you do to him?”
“Is it important to discuss this now, sweetheart?”
“Of course it is. If you go in there with no plan, anything might happen.”
I knew he felt emotional, but that wasn’t something I could repair here and now. It was still a few hours until we’d return to his home, so I tried to get on my front foot and push back a little.
“Don’t get testy with me, Max.”
“Don’t lose yourself in a dark chasm Erin.”
It might be too late for that.
Max was strong and unrelenting, unwilling to let me trample over him or anyone else. I reminded myself that was precisely what I'd asked of and expected from my lover, so I cooled my jets.
“Okay… by the time we get to the Fuck Factory, my surgeon will have handed Chester to Sissitrix. He’ll already be on life support by now, being no use to me dead.”
“With no arms or legs?”
“Correct.”
“That seems cruel and excessive. Shouldn’t we end his life like Brian’s was?”
“Chester is cruel baby, but I promise you he’ll be fine. Do you think death is preferable to a life spent inside a pleasure pod?”
“Fine? How does Chester qualify to receive the pleasure package?”
“If he tells me what I want to know, Chester will be hooked up to the happy pod program. His companion will care for and love him but only so long as the information I need keeps flowing.”
“And once he is no longer any use to you?”
“If he's been of sufficient use, he can retire to whichever life he chooses."
"And if he doesn't give you what you want?"
"Sissitrix’s pod will send him on his way lovingly so he doesn’t even know it’s happening. That's more humane than the end he almost caused me."
“Fuck… I won’t get on your wrong side, Erin.”
“How could you sweetheart?”
He seemed pensive but no longer anxious and I was glad of that in a way because although I was lost in the darkness, it would be good to have someone who cared enough to help me see the light again one day.
As our driver skirted slowly around Sin Street’s central district, I saw glimmers of hope through the window. There seemed to be a lighter hue to life, a few smiles, laughter even, almost as though a layer of grime was already lifting.
Max eyeballed me, smiled, then asked a bombshell question.
“Are you Red October?”
“Jesus, Max. Where the fuck did that come from?”
“Are you? Please, just answer.”
“Fucking no... absolutely not! I have no intention of creating mayhem and terror. Red October leaves a criminal void behind that I cannot fill quickly enough. My strategy is to manage a slow takeover.”
“Red October isn’t helping you, then?”
“Not at all. I need people removed from specific positions, not wholesale panic, terror, and slaughter.”
“Do you have a plan to deal with them?”
“Yes.”
He waited for me to elaborate, but I really didn’t want to. I had concerns about sharing too much with Max, built on paranoia more than anything. I needed to speak to Allen later tonight because my pod was an individuality I trusted absolutely.
“You need to share everything with me, Erin.”
“I don’t want to compromise you.”
“Babe, if the trouble I’m in right now were a woman, I’d be balls deep inside her already.”
“I have someone dealing with the problem. If I tell you her name, you’ll be the only other person inside that circle of trust.”
“Who is it?”
“Diana. She's an accomplished dominatrix from England.”
“Oh, wow.”
“You’ve heard of her?”
“Yeah. Hasn’t everyone?”
“What do you know, Max?”
“She reigns in the United Kingdom underworld. Diana already cleaned up a few cities there. They say she kills bad people with ruthless brutality, but those who please her experience boundless joy under her care.”
"That's definitely her."
“Do you trust her, Erin?”
“With my life. Please don’t ask me why.”
“Okay well, you’ll meet Rex tomorrow as well. That’s another ally.”
“He’s coming to Sin Street?”
“No… he’ll meet us at my home, around lunchtime.”
“What do you know about him, Max?”
“Rex grew up on New York’s Upper East Side. He was and probably still is, very tough. He graduated as the top cadet at West Point.”
“A military man then?”
“Yeah. He served as an officer. To be precise, he was the squadron commander of a tank unit awarded more citations for valor than any other in Iraq and Afghanistan.”
“Okay, he doesn’t sound like someone who has crossed over to the dark side, as we both have.”
“After service Rex became the CEO of a Private Military Contractor. He retired early having made his money and became a Red Cross trustee. He’s currently a board member of a risk management corporation.”
“You’re obfuscating Max. Why is he wandering around in the darkness?”
“Criminals broke into his house when Rex was away in Afghanistan. They brutally raped, then killed his wife and daughter.”
“Fuck, that’s a big dark hole, Max.”
"He tracked down the men and killed each one."
"I understand revenge."
“Rex will murder a transgressor with his bare hands in front of their families while smiling at them like he’s Santa Claus delivering gifts.”
“Ahh, I see. Max… I rather like the man.”
“I thought you might.”
“Do you trust Rex?”
“No.”
We arrived at Sissitrix’s temporary Fuck Factory earlier than I’d expected. The building seemed a shambles from the outside, but that meant it fit in perfectly among rows of similarly decrepit buildings.
Sissitrix chose one of many canal-side warehouses with a hundred thousand square feet of floor space, sufficient power, no windows, reasonable sanitation, and one that could easily be secured unobtrusively.
When I knocked on a side door, two burly men with their sidearms holstered answered. They recognized Max and let us pass freely, closing the door behind.
Inside, the warehouse was surprisingly pristine and a hive of activity, belying the shambles and quiet of its exterior. I saw huge crates on a polished concrete floor, some were partially unloaded while others were stacked three high.
“There must be fifty pods here, Erin.”
“The plan is for a hundred to build a temporary Fuck Factory.”
“What do you mean by temporary?”
“Ask Sissitrix. Here they come now.”
I smiled, then hugged my friend and savior who led me away from Max to a discrete spot behind a section of partition walling. I assumed my medical condition was of private interest and followed curiously.
“Have you been okay of late, Erin?”
“I’ve never felt better, thank you.”
“You’re in the darkness, though.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have Chester in intensive care with no arms or legs. That’s a fair indication you’ve set new personal boundaries.”
“I guess you might call it that. Chester is an example of what I will do to all criminals and also my confidential informant. I have a target list of people that he will add to. That’s my deck of cards and once it's complete, each one will receive a movie, depicting Chester’s surgery.”
“Fucking hell, Erin. That’s terrifying.”
“It’s a targeted and surgical strike to remove certain people, allowing us to take over Sin Street.”
“What should I do with Chester?”
“Hook him up to a pod after I speak with him. Pleasure settings are my preference, but if he doesn’t cooperate, I’ll need some hard love pumped into Chester.”
“He isn’t inside the pod yet although I've hooked him up beside it in neutral mode. There is no pleasure or pain.”
“Shall we speak with him then, Sissitrix?”
“Before we do that, how is Max?”
“He seems fine. We’re hooking up later through Chloe and Allen.”
“Good. If you ever need privacy inside the pod, tell Allen to disconnect all emotional and cognitive functions from Chloe. You and they can speak alone.”
“Do you believe I need Allen’s help?”
“What do you believe Erin?”
I stared at Sissitrix who had an uncanny sense of understanding what I felt. My suspicion was that each pod’s individuality was somehow connected to them, perhaps by a live or backed-up download, maybe even biologically through the pod’s organic tendrils.
Could I be fucking and confiding in Sissitrix?
“I believe Allen is on my side.”
“They are.”
“They?”
“It’s complicated, Erin.”
I wanted to confide my darkness in someone and by the looks of them Sissitrix did too. They waited while I considered my nightmares.
“I lied to Max.”
“What about?”
“Diana. I told him nobody else knows she’s coming to help me. I didn’t want to explain your involvement.”
“That’s not a problem. Max shouldn’t be troubled by every detail. Diana will find Red October and kill them.”
“I need her to fix this bastard real good Sissitrix. My plan leverages hard on a gradual downfall of specific players, rather than a random shit show, causing pandemonium and the exit of billions of dollars in coin and gold during a mad rush out of Sin Street.”
“You want their money, Erin?”
“Only to rebuild Sin Street. I want nothing for myself.”
“But you want to rebuild in your image and on your terms? It's your way or the highway Erin, right?”
“Yours and Max’s way too. Why the fuck are you all questioning my moral compass?”
Sissitrix looked peeved for a microsecond. They hid it well, but I saw a tiny flash of irritation before their calm and tranquil face wiped it away.
“I won’t let my pod technology be used as some global power play Erin. I’m all for some revenge and I’ll fully back your plan, but we lost innocents in the fire at Hannah’s building.”
“That was a fucking delinquent reporter playing off the reservation.”
“Bliss Paradox?”
“Yeah, she interviewed Hannah and went too far flagging the purveyor of fine handjobs as someone that might endanger the criminal community.”
“Kids died because of it.”
“I spoke with her. It’s dealt with.”
“She wrote an article about the Fuck Factory. It’s too soon for our plan or location to be revealed, Erin. We’re not fully protected here, and I don’t need the attention.”
“Okay. I’ll speak to her again. She could be useful to help conceal this place. Now… can we finally move on to Chester before he dies from old age please?”
“Prepare yourself for a grim experience, Erin, because he’s in bad shape.”
“Fuck him. At least he isn’t trussed up lying on a couch having his asshole fingered by a deviant.”
“He’s not far off that.”
I strolled back to Max who didn’t bat an eyelid at my private moment. He seemed calmer and almost cheerful, having just closed off his phone.
“You look happy.”
“I’ve bought more Sin Street properties. Hannah’s building deeds were fully transferred over by City Hall an hour ago.”
“That’s good. At least Red October is benefiting you somehow.”
“Not really, Erin. Eventually, there will be nothing but panic and like you said, Sin Street will be lost to us all. There is no profit in owning buildings in a dead zone. It's a temporary boom that must end before crossing a tipping point.”
We followed Sissitrix to the far end of the Fuck Factory where an area was cordoned off by scaffolding and heavy plastic. They moved a thick, heavy plastic sheet aside and we entered a dimly lit, ultra-clean workshop where a few pods were installed, humming while emanating a dim hue.
There were other machines hooked up like appendices to pods or as standalone machines. Lots of tubes, rubber cocks, and vagina shapes were scattered here and there, some partly assembled and others in their component pieces.
“What’s that?”
I pointed at a machine nearby standing roughly waist height, made from plastic with a slit at the top front.
“It’s for male toilets. Businesses can install four in a row like urinals. Guys pay to stick their cocks inside an organic pussy. They can pee into it, or get their cock sucked off.”
“By a machine?”
“Just like the pod would do for Max, to be honest, Erin.”
“That’s fucking genius Sissitrix. We can charge money to have them installed in offices, hotels, and at public conveniences.”
“For sure Erin. Pee for a buck, fuck for ten. I’m working on something for the ladies too.”
“Where’s Chester?”
I heard his pitiful moaning but hadn’t seen him yet. Sissitrix led us to a corner of the restricted area, opening a glass door to Chester’s fully filtered air-conditioned cage.
“I'm protecting his injuries from any risk of infection. You’ll have to wear masks and gowns.”
As I dressed in protective gear while carefully studying my victim from a distance, Chester’s psychological stress was apparent on his face. He moaned, not from pain becoming resigned to injuries that would eventually kill him.
"He no longer calls anyone for help, Erin."
“Hi, Chester.”
“Oh Erin, what the fuck have you done to me?”
His head turned to face me and I saw for the first time my abhorrent creation. I reeled with disgust for myself having become a mutilator but also for the tiny part of my dark soul that rejoiced in Chester's deformed body.
“We’ve already been through this. I’ve extracted an eye for an eye.”
“You’ve finished me. I’m fucking done for.”
“Not quite yet. There is still some quality of life you might enjoy. Perhaps in time, it might be preferable to your former life.”
He looked strange. All torso and head with nothing else. His wounds were covered with some kind of plastic while organic tendrils dangling from a pod beside Chester had covered his cock, with another feeding itself up his back passage.
His pod had fashioned a mouthpiece, feeding oxygen and god knows what in while allowing whimpering noises and muffled speech to escape. His voice sounded tragic, hollow, and lifeless.
“What life could I possibly have when you took so much away, Erin?”
“I’ll show you.”
I nodded at Sissitrix who set the dials on Chester’s pod to deliver pleasure. Suddenly his eyes lit up and I was sure that when the half-man was pumped full of hormones and drugs, they got him off better than any hooker ever did.
He even smiled, drifting along on some orgasmic plateau delivered through his asshole, cock, and mouth. I leaned closer, staring deep into Chester’s eyes hoping his drug-addled mind would still understand me.
“I want information in exchange for this level of enjoyment, Chester. I hope you understand that.”
I nodded again and Sissitrix restored the pod to its neutral mode. The color and life that flashed through Chester’s expression and eyes disappeared.
Terror returned to my half-victim as his reality struck home, sharpened into focus by a nightmare brought to life because I'd cut the pod’s pleasure feed.
“Please Erin, send me back into that dream, or let me die. Have some pity.”
“So long as you remain useful to me, I’ll let you live in pleasure but, if you fuck with me, this neutral mode will feel like heaven compared with how the pod will harvest you.”
“What can I tell you? I don’t understand what you need to know, Erin.”
“I want a list of names. Every cunt responsible for my plight, those who defiled me, organized or supported that. I want their details, like names, addresses, next of kin, banks they use, hideouts, and hangouts.”
“There are fucking hundreds in the criminal network, Erin.”
“Start at the top. Who is in charge of Sin Street? Which bastard makes it all happen?”
“Red October.”
I reeled backward and his eyes flickered, confused at my surprise. I felt sick and my pulse exploded while my brain tried to process what he’d said.
“Are you sure? Are you saying that the person running Sin Street is a serial killer on the loose?”
“Yes, it's the same person, for sure.”
“That makes no fucking sense, Chester.”
“It’s him, I tell you.”
“Him? Red October is a man?”
“Yeah… I-I-I, oh fuck.”
Sissitrix stepped in with some sense of urgency, powering the pod into pleasure mode. They called for assistants nearby, gently brushing me aside.
“Erin, I must heal his wounds, or Chester might die. It’s better you give him a few days in recuperation, then return here and interrogate to your hearts' content.”
“Okay, that makes sense. I don’t understand why he just pointed the finger at Red October though.”
Max took my arm gently, drawing me away while the medics did their job. Chester trembled uncontrollably and his color changed from flesh tones to ashen gray with blue hue. He didn’t look stable but, to my shame, I didn’t feel any sympathy.
“Will he be okay?”
“You and Max should leave here now.”
As Sissitrix ushered Max and me away from Chester’s pod, I watched the half-man being raised gently, then lowered into his gel bath. I had flashbacks, remembering when the same thing happened to me.
“Fix him as much as needs be.”
“I will Erin, goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Sissitrix.”
I walked outside the Fuck Factory with Max, noticing an ashen gray color had replaced his usual complexion too. He looked sick, so I stopped near the car and sparked up a joint, offering it to my lover, smiling.
“A few puffs on this and you’ll feel much better.”
“I honestly thought you were Red October, Erin.”
“Don’t worry Max. I’m morally ambiguous but not downright evil yet. Just think of all the fun Chester will enjoy if he plays ball.”
“If he plays by your rules, absolutely.”
“Yes, Max. They are your rules too.”
I slunk away ten meters to make a phone call, leaving Max sucking up enough weed to vanquish an awful image of a man with no arms or legs. He smiled from a distance, waved, and walked even further away, making a call of his own.
“Bliss?”
“Yes, Erin?”
“Well done on the Fuck Factory breadcrumb trail.”
“You’re welcome. What’s next mistress?”
“I want you to report the Fuck Factory base of operations is somewhere underneath the Sin Street steelworks and surrounding environs.”
“Fuck, that’s a very big area. Is it really there?”
“No.”
“Ahh, I see. You want me to lead the trail away.”
“It was always my intention, Bliss. Any problems with that?”
“Of course not. I’ll help out, but could you loan me a safe house to live in? My apartment is known by everyone, and this access pass I’ve negotiated is wearing pretty fucking thin.”
“Consider it done. I’ll throw in a bodyguard to live there and protect you.”
“Can you make it a handsome guy or two?”
“If you have a preferred cock size, message it later.”
“Thank you, Erin.”
“One final thing, Bliss. I have a scoop for you with a time-sensitive embargo.”
“What is it?”
“Red October is a guy.”
“Oh fuck. Thank you, Erin.”
“Remember, my press embargo on that information. Release it early and we'll have a problem.”
“I won’t fail you, Erin.”
I strolled back to Max feeling pleased with myself. My two angels, Hannah, and Bliss, were being productive. Now it was time to turn my attention to a demon master I relished to meet.
“Is Rex confirmed for tomorrow sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzed and I saw a message pop up.
Anything between seven and eight inches for both guys is perfect. I prefer one submissive and the other dominant.
Next Chapter:
Serves the MFR right
Epis,ode #7! Feels like a transitional piece here, which is a pretty good thing I guess after the chop shop in #6! But here we see some very well-written imagery of the now sorry-assed Chester, reduced to a trunk, in his pod. Max, frankly, is really acting like something between a total cuck and a royal pain-in-the-ass. He knows the score here--he knows what Chester did to his girl, he knows that Erin's infinitely better than Chester, and he's pulling a Dalai Lama now! Max's been helping with the financing and logistics of Erin's ops this whole time. Now he's bringing this merc on board who's a fellow vengeance enthusiast--his wife and kid were raped and murdered, and he went out, soldier-style, and took care of business! Max reminds me of a kind of discount Mark Zuckerberg/compu-nerd sort of guy--really into world peace, recycling, and like that. But can he wield a shotgun? Do some John Wick stuff if someone started messing with Erin? Something tells me he'd disappear if the chips were down and he had to really take some real-world action that meant he'd get his hands dirty (bloody) or take a scrape or two. No way he could endure the torture and humiliation Erin went through--that alone changed her! He's totally clueless here--and he's preaching this darkness business. Based on Max's behavior to this point, I see Erin tossing Max to the curb (something at the back of my head's a little wary of him--it was from the start if you recall--he just showed up out of nowhere at Erin's hospital room), and hooking up with the merc, and possibly Diana the dominatrix, maybe a menage with both of them--both are far more in her league when it comes to character, personal strength, and power. Have to admit that I haven't been into the other Sin Street material--the Bliss Paradox reports and such--so I'm not all that up on the Red October stuff, but perhaps Max is Red October--just a speculative thought from yours truly--maybe that's why I've always felt there's something off about that guy. But from a writing perspective, I'd think any sex scenes involving Erin, the merc, and Diana the domme would be hot, explosive affairs indeed!
I'm indifferent to Chester's fate. Any continuance of his life except under the most horrifying circumstances possible is a waste of time--true justice in this matter would be for Erin to string him along with occasional shots of pleasure from the pod to extract the info she needs to further her grand design--just treat him like an animal--a worthless resource, the same way he treated Erin, and the girls who he kept in subjection as their pimp. She should suck him dry of all useful information, then, when his hope is highest, spring the trap on him, that he'll be subjected to some perpetual, virtual-reality reenactment of the ordeal he and his cohorts subjected Erin to--let the pod perpetually rape, violate, inflict pain, and psychologically torture him until his worthless carcass wears out from the overstimulation. That'd be what he truly deserves for what he did to her.
And if Erin has crossed into "Evil" or "Darkness," and she's concerned about it--I think she's just giving herself some kind of Sartrean bad-faith jive there. First, she went to Harvard Business School--you leave your morality at the door there, like you do when you run for office! Plus, moral scruples, as I've said before in a few places, are cosmetic at most in any noir universe, where illusion and deception are normative.
As always, Sissitrix--your art's terrific here--as much as I despise Chester, your depiction of his state is a harrowing one--linked with the whole pod setup (there goes that creepy Giger/Cronenberg vibe)--it morphs into very menacing, chill-inducing body horror. If you're not familiar with the aesthetic of either of those brilliant masters of the eerie, macabre, and intrinsically unsettling, it's total nightmare fuel--the kind of stuff that has fundamentalist Christian rubes dragging out torches and picket signs wishing they could damn the different and creative to Hell--along with legions of other normal, thoughtful, intelligent, well-adjusted, human beings who make the world an intriguing place!
Excellent piece yet again!