Helen and the deviants

Helen's Journal
04 Feb

I write this entry as I wait to depart upon a Soma train for New Thames. It seems there has been a new development in the case where Mr Barlow has discovered that wear the silk used in the most recent slaying was purchased. I, for my part, was able to glean some useful information from Madame Delacroix's establishment on Brubaker Street. Its outward appearance is like that of any leather goods shop, with the name "The Gentleman's Provincal" and a typical windowfront display of leather furniture, harnesses, and the like.

Upon entering, nothing seems out of sort until you notice the smaller details. Firstly, there aren't any Hindu or African workers at the benches, but rather lovely young men and women, all with a thin, black choker around their necks at which the center is a small, silver ring. To that ring, a leather leash is affixed with a small hook, and that to a ring on their workbench. When I inquired as to possible employment opportunities, I was told that they had plenty of help up here, but that Ms Delacroix could almost certainly find use for someone of my appearance. He indicated the door at the back of the establishment, and smiled mischieviously at me as I walked passed.

I must admit, I was very, very nervous walking between the work benches. One man smiled at me so warmly, I had to return it. He was making a somewhat impractically small leather bracelet of some kind. "Bradley, get back to work or I'll make you suck my cock again." the man at the counter said as he wrote down financial matters. I glanced back as I opened the heavy wooden door. He still hadn't gotten back to work.

As I descended the staircase, the sounds of delightful naughtiness met me. I could shadows moving on the stone walls of the basement below as I entered the candlelit room. It was certainly not the lovely velvet and lace of the Crimson Lantern. Everywhere I settled my gaze, I saw a new perversion. One man was kneeling, a woman in black leather pressing his face to her sex. Another was cuffed to a wall, a pale redhead fellating him as a large negro was vigorously penetrating his bound and muffled wife. Soft moans and spanks met my ears from every direction. My lovely lingerie I had purchased for the Day Room would be of no use here.

Through it all, walked Madame Delacroix. She was an Amazon of a woman at nearly 6' tall in her black, high heeled riding boots. Red fishnet stockings and a mockery of a short leather skirt finished out her lower body until her black and red corset shaped her torso lovingly, ending with her exposed, ample breasts, from which a thin chain ran between her scandalously pierced nipples. When she saw me, she smiled, much like the man at the desk.

After a short interview, I was able to inquire whether she had any clientele that shared the same rough proclivities our killer likely possessed. She informed me that while client confidentiality was paramount to an establishment such as this, that she had entertained a small number of such men in the past, but cautioned me not to rush into the darker corners of this depraved subculture just yet. She instructed me in their odd ways, and I was allowed to mingle a bit with the other patrons. One man informed me of a similar establishment in New Thames, the Crocodile Lounge, where I might find similar erotic distractions.

Madame Delacroix knew of the establishment, but wanted to insure that she wasn't staking her reputation on someone she didn't know before offering a recommendation. Needless to say, I secured a note. I was quite sore when Mr Kamal retrieved me this morning. I thanked him for not asking how I obtained the information. He has always treated me with the kindness and dignity that many Sikhs here exhibit, a rarity on this planet to be sure.

Dear Diary,

I am still electrified by my time at Madame Delacroix's, although quite, quite sore. I left certain details out of the report, as they had no bearing on the case, but I simply must recount here. Upon meeting her, she took me to wooden table with various rings affixed to it. I was to sit on the table, and was instructed to not fidget or move as she surveyed me. Her questions were short, and very blunt, most of which I shamefully nodded. She seemed to revel in my shame, as if I'd given her a delicacy upon which to chew. She asked if I was willing to be restrained, to make love to men and women, to suck, to fuck, to be sodomized, and spanked. She asked if I'd done anything like this before, and was delighted when I said I had not.

"Well dear, I have a client that has been waiting for a girl like you." she said, a sweetness in her voice that was at odds with the loud moans coming from behind me. It seems that, unlike the Crimson Lantern, inexperience was sought after in this world. She asked me what else I was willing to do, the more depraved the more valuable. She asked me if I would allow myself to be electrified, to be gagged, used by multiple men, and most disgustingly of all, whether I would lay with Moloch, a specially trained Rajah-Dog. It was the last one that I simply couldn't bring myself to agree to.

"One last chance, dear. From the time you put this collar on to the time you take it off, you'll be an employee of this establishment, and as you must first learn to submit before you can learn to dominate, I suspect you'll be quite popular today." she said, grabbing my face hard for emphasis. Under her grasp, I felt myself slipping back into that dreamlike state. It was with her lips inches from mine, her other hand already gathering up a measure of soft, black rope that I softly mouthed my acceptance.

"Excellent. Now then, my client will be informed, and will arrive this evening. For now, lets get your training started." she said, wrapping my wrists with the ropes behind my back. She tied them together firmly but comfortably before affixing the collar and the leash. "Lay down." she instructed. I dutifully lay uncomfortably upon my bound hands as she drew my dress down. Next, she unclasped my corset, and just like that, I was nude, bound to a table, and quickly blindfolded. "You must learn to give yourself wholly over to your lovers. Every inch, every nerve. Submit to their desires so you may fulfil your own." she whispered as I felt her gloved hand roam my body. By giving yourself over to them, without judgement, you free yourself from shame." she said, her gloved hands binding my ankles together before rolling me onto my side. I couldn't see what she was doing, but I bit my lip and desperately wanted to find out.

The first smack was like lightning. The black, leather paddle impacted my rump with a satisfying sting. I arched away from it, which earned my a light smack on the face. Wordlessly, she tenderized my flesh with softened cat-o-nine tails whips, with oils, and with pain. In a few short minutes, I was begging her to spank me as I felt other hands upon my body. "Some will want to draw the process out, to make you really beg for it. Others..." she said, trailing off. She left me there, wordlessly, as the hands roamed my body. My ample breasts were squeezed, pulled, and spanked. I wriggled on the table as rough hands roughly fondled my nubile flesh while mouths found my nipples, my cunt. Someone swang my feet over the edge of the table, and a quick tug of my leash and I was standing. I heard a pulley overhead, and a rope was tied around the bindings at my wrist. I was painfully bent over, my arms raised behind me.

The penis slid into my mouth suddenly. I nearly gagged as the thick, long thing slid passed my lips. Someone behind me began paddling me again as the man pulled the blindfold off. It was the desk clerk. He was holding the base of his penis, which was wrapped was adorned with the leather "bracelet" I'd seen the man upstairs making. He grinned menacingly as I looked into his eyes, my own glazing over as I was again bewitched by this cursed Blush. I sucked and licked his cock between thrusts into my throat, soft hands caressing my flesh were the paddle struck before leather met skin again.

The gloved hand of someone, Madame Delacroix I supposed, found my shaved and oiled sex. I pitched forward as fingers parted my sex, pulled on my tender lips, and slipped inside. "Very tight. Very, very nice." she said. Whoever she was, it was not the Madame. I whimpered as her fingers slipped in and out of me, the clerk increasing his intensity before slapping my cheek hard. My mouth was left open, seeking his cock, as he slid it out before walking behind me. I couldn't turn to see what was happening, but the sounds of pleasure coming from behind me told me he had turned his attentions to my unseen mistress. He pressed her face to my sex, and my body shook as she began to please me with her tongue while being savagely penetrated. Another man stepped forward. He wore a terrifying leather mask with its mouth sewn shut. He was not so gentle with my mouth as the other man was.

And thus, my evening had began.