A Resurgent Whore #12
Going Underground
Welcome to chapter twelve 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 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
I was tempted to fuck Rex right then and there, but guilt flushed through me and I felt some discussion with Max would only be fair before I strayed again. My lover was up to something but forewarned is forearmed and there was no cause to suspect Max had a reason to end my life.
With Allen and Bliss already on my list of preferred fuck buddies, it seemed monogamy wouldn't work.
I wondered, almost hoped, that Max had meandered into an illicit affair beyond his fun with me and Chloe. It would make life easier for an open relationship to form around a core of love, if I was even capable of that.
My phone vibrated, then again, and over so many times I eventually answered it out of curiosity.
"Erin."
"Franky. So soon? What is it?"
"I have Alfie Cross."
"Ahh. Is he alive?"
"Very much. He's waiting for you at the old Ice Rink."
"Is he secure there for a while or is this offer time sensitive?"
"He won't trouble you and there's no rush. I don't need any of these men dead so why would I bother? I want Pincer and you'd better deliver on him."
"Or what?"
He disconnected our call. Brevity was one thing I could thank Franky for. The odious little man made me sick, more so because I could have ended him but didn't.
I strolled into Diana's office which was extraordinarily well-furnished in an Italian modern style. A nest of three brown calf leather sofas with a glass table sealing a square was the focal point.
She smiled at me, suggestively tapping her thigh with a riding crop, at a metronomic, meditative pace while pouring two glasses of brandy. She walked right into my space, eyeballing me without blinking, handing over a glass.
"We should enjoy the cabaret next door. I have a VIP table permanently reserved with your name on it, Erin."
"Lead on."
"I always do, dear. That's why they all love me."
I felt slightly annoyed following her, as though I were being stage-managed. An overwhelming sense of her dominance bristled up my spine like an icy storm. It was much more than a sense of her sexual nature which was powerfully erotic albeit mired in salacious ambiguity.
I flipped my phone open and thumbed a message while we walked.
Ice Rink, two hours, be ready and bring others.
The Underground Club cabaret was in full swing, and the dancers on stage were leaving nothing to my imagination. I saw more glistening pussy in one longing glance than on any other single night in my life.
"The strippers are from Hannah, as are all girls working the club glory-holes. The dancers are mine from Bangkok."
"They don't all look Thai."
"I never said they were."
I set my glass on the table and scanned the room, enjoying its mash-up between art deco, formal ballroom, and sleazy club. The more pussy I saw, the more I craved mine to be serviced and it didn't help matters pertaining to my arousal when Rex strolled in, helped himself to champagne, and tipped his glass at Diana and me before lazing on a chaise longue wearing only budgie smugglers that would be easily removed.
I needed a distraction.
"I like the out-of-context grand chandelier, Diana."
"People come here to lose their shit, fuck, or get fucked. There is little point being conventional when all my clients are anything but vanilla flavor."
"That naughty bastard in his red pants, drinking champagne is going to get laid soon."
"Did you enjoy Rex earlier on, Erin?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"I'm trying to be faithful but finding arousal in all the wrong places, Diana."
"Are you being drawn towards danger?"
"Peril is an overwhelming yet unreliable mistress but the allure of jeopardy with all its risk, and reward has a heart-pounding carnal nature that I find irresistible. I'm a moth to a flame sweetie."
"Rex is fucking dangerous, for sure, Erin. He's also playfully naughty and thinks I don't know about his little hidden blade. I see every play my charges make, long before they do."
Diana Von Rigg moved majestically, strolled to a sofa, and sat down on its center cushion with her arms outstretched across its back. I sat opposite, closer to the dancing girls, and able to catch their fleeting pussy aroma. I was losing my shit and Diana knew because the sexually overwhelming woman who winked and smiled again, raised her eyebrows high.
"I'll thrash that naughty fucker later, of that you may have no doubt. That's the real kink Rex enjoys. Once one of the girls feed him, I'll flay his ass and send him to bed in another sleepsack."
"You must go through a few of them."
"He never did this before. I assume Rex wanted to impress you."
"Why do you let him live here?"
"He pays well and I understand him. A man with so many enemies cannot be restrained but cheating with his knife inside the sleepsack is no way to be punished. You know they killed his family, right?"
“Is that why he needs your treatment?”
“Yes, but he is far more nuanced than that. Rex is fucked up for life, but then, isn’t everyone… present company included my dear.”
“Touche, and yes. You’re quite astute, Diana.”
“I’m a dominatrix and that requires studying and understanding people. I know what makes them, tick… tock, like a wound-up... kinky... fucking... clock.”
"Was Rex in the UK when he first discovered you?"
"He traveled there and hunted high and low in Birmingham. Eventually, he found me in a tiny dungeon for discerning clients in our Jewelry Quarter. He was in a bad way."
"Jewelry Quarter?"
"It's where they make intricate jewelry, buttons, and badges. So many industrial machines to enjoy. It's a Dickensian dungeon the size of a small town."
“And you treated Rex?”
“I can’t disclose too much about that Erin. A Domme is far more bound by confidentiality than any bastard lawyer.”
“Can you control him?”
"I don’t control anyone, Erin. Each supplicant submits to me because they crave my attention. Sin Street has now brought Rex and me together much more closely... and you sweetheart, have synergized that. Have no fear about Rex but at the same time, don’t mess with his head."
"I won't harm him."
"I'm more concerned about what he might do to you or anyone nearby if he goes, boom!"
Her stare and dangerous expression passed a warning. Diana would remain loyal to my cause so long as it aligned with hers and my cash continued flowing. Regardless of anything, she wouldn’t tolerate interference in a patient's well-being or her treatment of Rex.
“You may play and he can work, but don’t mess with his head.”
“We agree. Let's move on now, Diana.”
I swirled my brandy, enjoying its fumes, flaring my nostrils as a catharsis descended on me. A pure black cat, double the usual pet size, with jaguar-esque features strolled past. It sniffed the girls dancing, seemingly approving of them albeit in a haughty manner. I saw a big set of balls from its rear when a tail swished. He turned, yawned as though bored, then leaped onto the sofa, curling up in a ball beside Diana, purring loudly.
"They all come because they want to Erin… and leave when they wish."
I nodded, almost falling under her mysterious seduction. I felt relaxed and enjoyed being in the company of someone who, like me, exuded confidence and power.
"Do you like the club, Diana?"
"I'll have it the way I want soon enough. Thank you for the funds. Money makes all things possible."
"You're welcome."
"You don't own me though Erin. We are clear on that, right?"
Who could possibly own Diana Von Rigg?
She raised a glass in a toast to me, pointing her pinky finger, smiling generously and without a hint of prejudice. I tipped my crystal tumbler back, biting a frustrated bottom lip because my need for sexual relief was at a fever pitch.
"Likewise."
We eyeballed one another and I wondered what kind of man or woman might come close to satisfying her. I hadn't seen a comparable beauty, but Diana was more than that. She was a femme fatale and an enigmatic one at that.
Alluring, beguiling… tantalizing but so fucking cryptic. I loved her moral ambiguity.
"I doubt anyone will ever own you, Erin. I'd rather not try containing a creature such as yourself however much I might enjoy it. You’re off the rails and on the edge, an exciting theater show that nobody knows the ending for."
"I'm writing my story, one line at a time, each one describing events only a few minutes into the future."
"We are kindred in that regard."
The room dripped with seduction. Whether Diana liked girls or not was beside the point. Her persuasion toward obedience went beyond sex, straying into the territory of ownership by consent, no… they fucking begged for her attention.
She set down her glass and suddenly became businesslike.
"So tell me about the problem I am here to solve my dear. You've paid much and have got little in return thus far."
"Above all, keep Rex contented."
"That's a given and is already in hand. Next?"
"I want you to find a serial killer."
"Red October?"
"Yes."
"I assume you believe this murderer must have a sexual motivation or at least be part of the fetish scene, perhaps existing in hiding or plain sight on its periphery?"
"They must be. Such violence can only arise from someone sexually overwhelmed. The killer must have a primal connection with their sexuality."
"Or they may simply suffer from impaired empathy, Erin."
"Keep your eyes and ears open, Diana. That's all I need... oh, and one other thing. My boyfriend, Maximilian needs a damn decent thrashing. I want to know what he's hiding."
"Can't you do that yourself, Sweetheart?"
"Not as well as you will."
She downed her drink and pointed towards the far end of the Club where a private bar was dimly lit. A cloud of hedonism swirled through an archway there, beckoning lost souls.
“Before you leave, please take a look around, Erin. I think you’ll love my Tongue Bar.”
I wandered through Underground, enjoying the decadent sounds, a rapid beat, and soaking wet, gorgeous, sexy, writhing bodies. In a booth against the wall, a man was being fellated by two women. Nearby, another woman lay on a rubber sheet while six guys lined up, fucking her in turn.
As I passed by on the dance floor, I rifled my fingers through the hair of a man who stood upright, proudly fucking a woman being cradled between two other guys. I paused and stared into her eyes, enjoying her lewd expression and the desperate eyes of a woman who worried about how she could ever be a wife again.
“Where is your husband?”
She nodded to the man on her right side as he held her, prising open her ass cheek for the bull to have better access deep inside her. She had an arm wrapped around both men but only had an interest in the one with a cock lodged deep inside her cunt.
I peered down and saw a pool of semen. When my eyes returned to stare at hers, she smiled knowingly.
“He’s not the first one to fuck me tonight.”
“I’m sure he won’t be the last either, sweetie.”
I moved on, needing a drink, worrying the hedonism Diana had created with music, dancers, alcohol, and naked people might become contagious. Before I walked into the Tongue Bar, I glanced back instinctively and noticed Rex was gone.
At a cocktail bar, a row of girls sat on molded bar stools with neck-shaped cutouts at the front. Each girl wore a short skirt, raised up for their service partners, men, or women, all kneeling, giving cunnilingus while strapped firmly in place.
I leaned against the bar feeling aroused, wondering if I could make it back home and into the comforting arms of Max without enjoying a side dish along the way. A bartender in his thirties looked quite tasty and served customers with his colleague, a girl who was much younger, very beautiful in a slutty way, and would be a lovely distraction.
She approached me with big innocent eyes, pulling on her bottom lip, accentuating an already lewd appearance.
"Are you legal?"
"Barely, but yes."
"Bloody Mary, please."
"Would you take a seat and I'll serve your drink there, madam?"
"There are none available."
"At the end madam. The curtained cubicle is offered to VIP guests for their privacy."
"A glory hole?"
"Not even close madam."
"I'm intrigued."
When I opened the heavy red velvet double-lined curtains an elegant queening throne inside was the most exquisite I'd seen. I walked around the leather and stainless steel chair, enjoying its decadent look and cold finish. I saw myself sitting on the throne with a beautiful supplicant kneeling in the small cunnilingus specialist's cushioned area in front.
I felt annoyed when a waiter delivered my drink.
"Would madam like some company or should I draw the curtains so she may watch the show?"
"Both. Is the bar server available?"
"The man?"
"No, I'll have the sleazy girl so long as she really is legal."
"She is legal and a complete slut. A very good choice. I'll send her across to you."
"I'll have her in an hour. Tell her to book that and be here on time."
I sat on the throne, spreading my legs wide so the girls on stage got as much of an eyeful as I did. I slid my phone out of a small pocket and speed-dialed #1. He answered almost immediately.
"Hi, Erin how did your meeting with Rex go?"
"Excellent, Max. He is a man exceeding far beyond my expectations."
"Great. Are you on the way home?"
"Not quite."
"Oh, go on, sweetheart, what's happening?"
"Could you meet me at Underground, please? Bring security because later, we're going to the abandoned ice rink."
"Yes, of course. It will take me an hour to get to you. What's going on?"
"There's a young slut here that I'd like us to fuck together. Is that agreeable?"
"I'm on my way."
I swirled my drink in its glass, sipping, enjoying its spicy tang, imagining my slut servicing a pussy, increasingly incapable of control. The more I watched the girls, listened to the music, and breathed in a cloud of love, the less I was inclined to be a good girl.
It took Max less than an hour but my relief was palpable when I saw his head bobbing towards me through a throng of decadence.
"Are you okay, Erin? I wasn't expecting your invitation."
"I need to have my pussy licked, Max."
He stepped forward, trying to figure out how to get inside my throne, to its pussy licking position. I shook my head and pointed to my slut who was en route wearing a big smile.
"Uh... uh, no, no! Not by you Max. By that little slut."
She entered the small caged area flicking up a short skirt, presenting a beautiful slit to Max. He balked, stared at me, then at her ass as she kneeled, adjusted the restraints, then handed me her reins.
I spread my legs wide, using fold-out stirrups to make sure her access to my drenched slit was perfect.
"You'd better dive in and fuck this girl, Max because I have no idea how long I'll last."
She was well-trained and used both hands placed on my upper thighs. Her thumbs stretched towards the center, parting my slit, gripping both labia and spreading them wide open. Using a flattened tongue, she licked my pink strip, circling around a swollen clitoris each time she passed the top end.
Max kneeled, moved his cock into position, and slid balls deep inside the little slut in a single, long stroke. She grunted and I was impressed by how well she'd taken my boyfriend's cock. He gripped her waist and pounded her hole while she licked me well.
I wasn't ever going to last long. Holding the back of my slut's head in place while Max fucked her and the stage girls shot me a heap of pussy was a nirvana I shall never forget. I watched my boyfriend working up a sweat, deep inside the naughty girl sucking my clitoris while flicking its tip.
I screamed when she brought me to a climax and watched Max's cum face when he emptied an ocean of seed inside her. She didn't cum, but then, I didn't care, and neither did Max.
I watched Max tuck his cock away and zip up while my slut finished cleaning a very messy pussy. When I felt respectable, I sipped what was left of a Bloody Mary and stood up, patting the girl on her head.
"Good girl. I'll be back, so keep a weather eye on the front door."
"Yes, Miss."
She walked away and I watched semen dribble down both her thighs, pausing at the knees, building up, and running down to her ankles. I loved her and the freedom she lived to not give a fuck.
I finally kissed and hugged Max, enjoying the moment we reconnected. We held hands, walked away from a beautiful fuck chair, and fought through the throng while Underground descended into sexual ambiguity.
"Are we good Max?"
"We're more than good. Thank you, Erin."
You need to be more honest Max. I won't hold back forever.
"Be good and there is plenty more fun ahead."
"Where are we going next?"
"To the ice rink."
We spoke very little during the approximate twenty-minute drive. I felt relaxed in the back seat marveling somewhat at slut girls' excellent cleanup of my pussy and was sure Max had his mind full of her tight, sweet hole as well. In post-coital meditation, one rarely discusses with their partner how much a stranger has satisfied them.
The ice rink was another relic of a Sin Street heyday, now completely disused except recently by Red October.
"Why did Franky choose to leave Alfie here, Erin?"
"Because he wanted to stash my target safely, and lightning rarely strikes twice in the same place. I doubt even the most ardent drug user will come by here soon."
"Do you want my men to clear the place?"
"Nope. I've taken care of it. I want your men to shoot anyone who comes out before I do."
"What's going on Erin? This is the second time you've sidelined me."
"I'm walking into a trap without a care in the world, Max. My backup plan is in place, so now, my life is in someone else's hands, and a shadowy, corrupt cunt is waiting inside."
And I don't entirely trust you.
"Good luck, Erin."
"Luck is irrelevant, darling."
I strode through twisted wrought-iron gates, stepping over garbage while sidestepping needles. Sin Street town planners had attempted to repurpose the building as a sanitorium but since we had more crazies than otherwise it was deemed more sensible to spend the money on street lighting to keep people safe.
In the vaulted hall, my voice echoed terrifyingly.
"Come out now Enforcer. I know you're here and that Alfie isn't."
"Fuck you!"
He shouted angrily because I'd disrupted his plan. When the Enforcer stepped out of the shadows and into half moonlight, six more bent cops followed behind in arrowhead formation.
"I could arrest you right now, Erin."
"Fuck off. You don't have the juice. About now, your bosses in the puzzle palace are questioning your loyalty and competence. You're fucked Enforcer."
"I have Franky."
"No, that's not true. You have Franky's burner cell number."
"He said you were sure of yourself, Erin. I had no idea how much so."
I circled the entire group, many of whom held out their hands toward the boss, frowning quizzically. At least two whispered and asked the Enforcer for permission to shoot me.
"I'm going to kill your men, and then we can talk."
"You're stupid Erin. I have one offer for you. Leave now and don't come back to Sin Street ever. Your feeble boyfriend can visit to collect rent but you... stay the fuck away!"
He looked very certain of having the upper hand. I'd arranged my plan at short notice knowing no details, believing my chances were at least even. I raised my arms wide at shoulder level and spun around as though the ice were thick, glossy, and bright.
"In less than one minute, your men will be dead."
I dropped both arms and they drew pistols, hunting for an unseen enemy. I counted to ten and heard nothing. For a moment, I felt a sense of dread, more so when the Enforcer reared up and grinned in the most vile way possible.
Twelfth Seal is opened, and ends with a suspenseful cliffhanger! Kate--I've got some comments for you, which I'll share with you via E-Mail. And Sissi--great job on the artwork as always!
Ooh, a great suspenseful ending, with a healthy dose of erotica thrown in. "I'm writing my story, one line at a time, each one describing events only a few minutes into the future." That sounds about right Kate, you always keep,us guessing and desperate for more. Thanks again.