This is Episode 02, read the others here.
New York City, Williamsburg, N 7th Street Apartment building
Celine knelt behind the sofa. There were two rooms off to her right, and a kitchen to her left. Ahead was a large window that opened up onto a rooftop patio. That’s where the white slavers she and Patrick had been tracking were.
Seven women knelt on the edge of the patio. They were naked, and their asses were pushed up into the air. In another more consensual venue, it’d even be arousing. Instead, the man who had somehow captured them all walked behind them. He wore a terrycloth robe and wielded what looked like a riding crop. There were no chains or bondage or other gear.
She motioned for Patrick to come in. “They’re on the patio,” she whispered, and he nodded. He took up her position, and she moved to the patio door. She tested the knob and it was unlocked. She pulled it open and held her gun at the slaver. “FBI!” she shouted. “Drop your weapon and let these women go!”
“No!” he shouted! “You can’t have them, they’re mine!“.
“You need to drop your weapon,” she said. “Ladies, you just stay down and everything will be okay.”
The man turned to the nearest woman, and slapped her ass with the crop “Jump!” he said, and slapped the ass of the next woman, who stood, and leapt off the roof.
“What the fuck…?” Celine said. She stood there watching as the woman stood up and moved to the ledge. Gathering herself together, Celine ran forward and tackled the woman down to the patio floor.
Behind her she heard the crash of glass as Patrick jumped through the big window and tackled the man, taking the crop away from him. The woman underneath her collapsed, and Celine covered the slaver while Patrick cuffed him.
“Good job,” she told her partner.
“I always wanted to do that,” he said.
_Washington DC, FBI Headquarters _
1 week later
Celine slammed the phone down as the number rolled to voicemail. “Dammit, Patrick!” she muttered. He’d had some leave, but hadn’t answered his phone for days. It wasn’t like him. They were partners, and kept in contact, or let each other knew they’d be out of contact. Patrick hadn’t done either.
She got up and knocked on the jamb of her boss’s open door. He looked up, “duBois,” he said. “Make it quick, I’ve got a meeting in—,” he checked his watch. “now.”
“Sir,” she said. “I haven’t heard from Patrick in days. It’s not like him, I’d like to run by his place.”
“Go ahead,” he said. “And tell him I need to see him, vacation or no.”
“Yes, sir,” she said and added, “Thanks, Henry.”
As she was walking out she heard a voice call out to her, in a rich warm tone. “Agent duBois!” Celine turned to the sound of the voice, seeing the trimmed beard and warm skin of Fareed Alexander.
“Agent Alexander,” she said. “I thought you were off to your Warehouse or whatever.”
“Yes,” he said. “But circumstances have brought me back to DC. Our task force isn’t assigned to a specific region, so we tend to travel.”
“Same here,” she said.
“I was wondering, Agent duBois…Celine. Did you get my questionnaire?”
“I did, Fareed,” she said. “I’m not smelling fudge when there is no fudge, nothing like that.”
“When you look up, do you feel horny?” he asked.
She looked up at him — she wasn’t wearing heels today and that put him six inches over her. She tilted her head so she was looking at the top of his. “Nope,” she said. “Not at all.”
“I see,” he said. “Well, that’s good.”
“Usually the men who ask me about my horniness return my calls, Agent,” she said. He coughed, and leaned back on his heels, away from her. “No, I get it. I tried to find out information about your ‘Task force’, your so-called ‘Warehouse 69’. Do you know what I found out?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“Not a damn thing,” she said. “Except a polite note from the powers that be to stop asking. So I get it. Mum’s the word. Doesn’t mean I like the disappearing agents and the brush off.”
“Of course,” Fareed said. He had the good sense to look a bit embarrassed, so Celine nodded to him.
“I’ve got a partner to see to, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”
“Certainly,” he said, straightening his tie. “I’m glad you’re feeling well.” He turned and headed back into the agency and she turned and watched him go into her boss’ office. Normally she’d want to know more about that, but she was worried about Patrick. She’d get the scoop from Henry later.
Outside Patrick’s Apartment Building
1 hour later
Celine rubbed her temples. What had just happened? She looked up at Patrick’s apartment from the street, and felt her nipples harden, and her pussy moisten. Half of her wanted to rub her crotch and the other half wanted to charge up there and figure out what was going on. But no, that hadn’t worked so well before had it?
She pulled out her phone and called Fareed. “Farred Alexander,” he said as he answered.
“Okay, Fareed, it’s happened. Now when I look up I feel horny.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Outside Philip’s apartment.”
“Good,” He said. “So am I.” These last three words she heard from behind her. She put down her phone, hanging it up in the process. “So, tell me what happened,” he said.
She shook her head. “Okay, I went up to his place, and knocked — there was no answer, but I could hear noises from inside. I have a key, so I let myself in.”
Fareed nodded. “What did you see?”
“It was like this case we had a week ago. White slaver. Patrick was walking around in a robe, and waving this crop in the air. A few men were on their knees begging him to spank them.”
“That case, the one in New York?” She nodded. “Okay,” Fareed said. “Go on.”
“I asked him what the hell he was doing, and he told me to get out. I told him no, and then he said it again, and hit me with the crop. Next thing I knew, I was out here calling you.”
“What did he say exactly when he hit you with the crop?”
“It was just ‘Get out!’,” she said.
“So that’s all you did,” Fareed said. “Good, that’s hopeful.”
“Well, I think the crop hasn’t taken full control of him, yet. He’s not collecting, and he was willing to let you go. So I can get it from him more easily, and get him clear of its influence.”
“The crop is causing all of this? Are you crazy?”
“It was the crop of the Marquis de Sade,” Fareed said. “It’s imbued with his sadism and dominance, and insinuates it into anyone that holds it. Patrick picked it up in your raid a week ago, and it got to him then.”
“Okay,” Celine said. “This is like that necklace then.”
“Yes, something like that.”
“Okay.” She pulled out her gun and checked it. “I’m ready when you are.”
“You are not going,” he said.
“He’s my partner, I’m definitely going.”
“It’s not safe for you, you’ve already been touched by the crop,” he said. “Who knows what will happen when you get there.”
“Well, I won’t be alone this time,” she said. “And you need backup. Because otherwise you’ll have to watch your back as I follow you upstairs anyway.”
Fareed pursed his lips which did interesting things to his neatly trimmed beard. Celine let out a deep sigh, she couldn’t help looking up at him when they were talking and the arousal was still affecting her. Fareed pulled out a pen light and pointed it at her right eye, then away, like a doctor checking for dilation. He repeated it on her left, and then put it away. “Follow my finger,” he said, and ran it around her peripheral vision. He made little concerned noises.
“Well, doc?” she said. “Can I play in the big game?”
“On one condition,” he said. He reached into his back pocket and handed her a folded, black and white checker handkerchief. “Put that in your back right pocket, and make me kiss you.”
“Make you kiss me?”
“Yes,” he said. “I won’t help.”
“Are you serious?”
“I”m giving you the option of helping me save your partner,” Fareed said. “This is the way it goes.”
Celine looked up at him, and he just looked forward, not at her, just off in the distance. She could feel a bit of the horniness wash over her. He was handsome enough, but not really her type. He was too stiff and controlled for her. Still, he had nice lips and his beard was neat and trimmed, and his eyes were a lovely shade of brown.
She reached up to him, tangled her hands in his hair, and pulled him down to her level. For his part, Fareed didn’t resist, but he didn’t help either. She wrapped her other hand around him, and pulled him close, and kissed him gently on the lips. Something told her that while that was in the letter of what he’d said, it wasn’t good enough.
She ran her hand up and down his back, urging him on, and pressed her mouth to his. She gripped his hair, holding it tightly and he let out a grunt which parted his lips. She slid her tongue inside his lips, and his tongue met hers. They kissed, their tongues dancing between each other, and she felt him loosen up and lean into the kiss. She pulled him tight, and ran her hands up and down his back.
Celine felt her nipples harden against him, and felt her pussy wetten and begin to gush. She had a vision of Fareed down on his knees worshiping her feet.
After a moment, she pulled back and broke the kiss. The two of them looked at each other, breathless. “Don’t worry Fareed,” she said. “I’ve got your back up there. We’ll both be sa fe.”
“Good,” he said. “it’s working. Let’s go. I, uh, I think you should lead.”
“Of course,” she said.
She led him into Patrick’s apartment building, and to the elevator there. She pressed the button for Patrick’s floor, and turned to Fareed. “What’s the plan?”
“The problem is the crop,” Fareed said. “Get it away from him, and into this bag.” He pulled out a static-free bag big enough to fit a baseball bat into.
“That will do the fzzt-zap thing, right? Like the collar?”
He nods. “So look away, it’ll be bright.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. “Let’s go,” she said.
She pulled out her keys and stood in front of Patrick’s door. She pounded on it three times. “Let me in, Patrick!” she shouted.
“I told you to go away!” he said.
“Well, I’m back,” she said. She stuck the key in and unlocked the door, opening it as she did. “Follow me,” she said to Fareed.
Patrick came up to her, swinging the crop. She held up her hand and he hit it, saying “Go away!” again. She felt the urge to go, but quickly put it down, grabbing the crop in her hand, and yanking it away from Patrick.
“No, I won’t,” she said to him. “You can’t just order me around.” But, she thought, she could order him around. She was the senior partner, after all. And she already had Fareed following her, totally cowed to her will. Plus he was a good kisser. The other men in here could be part of her coterie, and she could expand it easily.
The thought was a good one and she smiled. But, none of these people had agreed to it. Maybe Fareed… but not really. No, that wasn’t okay. It wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t right. There was something she was supposed to be doing. She turned, saw Fareed with the anti static bag out and open. She tossed the crop into the bag, and closed her eyes.
The light was bright even behind her eyes, and the sound loud. Patrick moaned, and she heard him hit the floor. The other men made confused noises. She opened up her eyes, and saw Fareed smiling at her.
She knelt down beside Patrick and checked him out. He was asleep, and his breathing was normal.
“Good job, Agent,” he said. “Now, if I could please have my hanky back?” She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to him, and felt her head clear.
“What the heck is that thing?” she asked.
“Safer sex hanky,” he said. “Worn by a series of famous gay doms back in the 70s. It’s protection, at least for the short term.”
“This is crazy,” she said. “Objects aren’t magic like that. Are you ever going to explain it?”
“I could but then I’d have to—”
“I was going to say, recruit you. But that choice is out of our hands.”
“And I have a partner,” Celine said. “Even if he’s a bit out of it right now.”
“Indeed,” Fareed said. “Good day. I have what I came for, and your job will be easier without it.”
And with that, he turned and left the apartment.
Two weeks later
“So, Patrick’s still out on extended leave,” Henry said.
“I know, Boss,” Celine said. “I’m almost even caught up on paperwork.”
“Well, that’s good news, I guess,” he said. “Now for the bad news.”
“What is that?” Celine asked.
“You’re being transferred.” At the look in her eyes, he held up his hands. “I had no choice,” he said. “In fact, I’m still fighting it.”
“Where to?” she asked.
“Some place in Nevada. Some unit with DHS called ‘Warehouse 69’“.