Chapter 6
"I don't think so," Diana said. Yet, despite herself, she couldn't help getting just a little tinge of excitement about being asked to volunteer for the vice squad on this particular assignment. Her brother had been recently assigned to vice, hadn't he? "I'm not too sure I could hack all that undercover shit. Besides, what about Gracie and Helen?"
"Can't use them on this one, babe," Captain Harry Morgan said, tapping the eraser end of a long yellow pencil on his desk. He was simultaneously giving Diana the once-over, all the while remembering the victims (the last five, anyway, who had gotten up the guts to come to the police) had been blonde. These freaks-whoever these freaks were-just might have a penchant for blondes. Besides . . . "We've got to have somebody completely new, someone that no one on the streets has seen working vice before."
"I just don't know," Diana said. Although, it was tempting. What if she got assigned to the same case with David? If they got close enough to work together, would David wake up to the fact of whom Diana was? "You did say this was volunteer work. Right?"
"You wouldn't mind my giving you a short briefing before you give me your final turndown, would you?" Captain Morgan asked. And, knowing Diana could hardly deny him that much, he opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a manila envelope which he slid over to Diana.
Captain Morgan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his swivel chair. The chair squeaked beneath his weight.
Diana, correctly assuming that Captain Morgan expected her to examine the contents of the envelope, proceeded to open it, spilling out the contents on the desk. What she found were several 8x10 glossies of a couple nude females. The photos showed obvious whip marks across the buttocks, back, belly, and breasts of each woman. However, since the lash marks (despite being numerous) didn't seem to be all that serious, Diana wasn't really sure if they were what she was supposed to be singling out for examination or not. However, a further scrutiny of the photos (there were ten: five of a rather attractive young blonde, five of another blonde-the second not nearly as pretty as the first) showed Diana that the only thing common to all ten pictures were the striated markings on the women's milky skin.
"Wife beating?" Diana ventured. She couldn't begin to imagine how vice would be involved in wife beating, let alone how they could use Diana undercover on such an assignment.
"No, not wife beating," Captain Morgan replied; but, he didn't seem any too quick to supply any more light to the subject.
Diana glanced over the photos again, wondering vaguely if Captain Morgan were determined to play twenty questions until Diana came up with whatever it was that-if it were obvious to Captain Morgan-continued to elude Diana.
Diana thought maybe it had something to do with a porno ring; but, the pictures didn't look as if they had been posed to portray the least bit of eroticism.
"Neither looks under-age," Diana ventured finally. She was sorry; but she wasn't any more enlightened as to what kind of a case she was being asked to volunteer for than she had been before the Captain had supplied the photos.
Captain Morgan came forward in his chair. Stretching across the desk, he separated two of the photos from the stack: one of each girl. He tapped his right forefinger on the less attractive of the two.
"Mildred Henning," he said. He moved his finger over to the other. "Tammy Lane."
Diana waited, hoping Captain Morgan was going to go on, since neither of those two names were even vaguely familiar.
"Both women were picked up by a young man in singles bars on the west side of town. Miss Henning by someone called Daniel Morrow, Miss Lane by someone called Jeff Gregory. Probably both aliases."
Diana waited. She didn't have to wait long. Captain Morgan had obviously decided a more direct route was the best one.
"Each time there was small talk, a few drinks, a few dances, ending in the expected invitation back to the guy's apartment for a little fun and games."
Diana, at this point, had mistakenly concluded that Daniel Morrow and Jeff Gregory were one and the same man who . . . Who what? Who picked up girls, took them home, beat them with a whip?
"However," Captain Morgan continued, "before either young woman got to where she thought she was going, she ended up passing out. Probably, the guy slipped a Mickey Finn into one of the drinks. When the young lady woke up, her supposed one-night stand had taken a powder."
"With her money?" Diana ventured, wondering if she were finally beginning to see whatever the hell it was Captain Morgan was suggesting.
"It's not robbery we're dealing with here," Captain Morgan said, putting Diana right back into darkness. "Miss Lane, as a matter-of-fact, actually swears she came out of this with twenty bucks to the good."
"So if it's not robbery, what is it?" Diana asked, wondering if Captain Morgan was ever going to come out with it.
"Beatings . . . you've noted, of course, the whip marks. And, multiple rape in the bargain."
"Multiple?" Diana asked, her curiosity naturally aroused.
"Miss Henning reported seven people involved: four men and three women. Miss Lane said there were only five. But each time, the victim was chained, gone over with whips (Miss Henning reported continual use of a paddle), and then molested."
Captain Morgan slid back across the desk and went back to his original leaning position in his chair.
"What we have is a group of kooks on the loose who are paying men to pick up young ladies to be delivered for perverted purposes," Captain Morgan said. "More than a little sick, wouldn't you agree?"
"Hell, yes," Diana agreed; but then, what else could she say? It had, after all, been a leading question, hadn't it?
"And those two women haven't been the only two victims, either," Captain Morgan said. "There have possibly been as many of ten who have been picked up over the last year in this city alone. A couple of years ago, there was a group operating under the same MO in Los Angeles."
"Same group?" Diana asked, getting a funny little feeling in her gut as she realized that Captain Morgan was undoubtedly suggesting that Diana be used as bait for the next Daniel Morrow or Jeff Gregory on the prowl to pick up women for his group of perverted employees.
"Don't know for certain," Captain Morgan admitted, pyramiding his fingers beneath his square chin. "We do know that there's a possible connection between the LA operation and a woman called Helga Svenson who-quite by strange coincidence-we now have in residence within our fine city. Miss Svenson used to cater to some of her customers' more kinky tastes until it got a little hot for her around LA when some major politican was found wandering around outside her place wearing nothing but a pair of police handcuffs and a butt-plug."
"But, you don't have anything definite on her yet?" Diana asked. The whole thing sounded more than a little bizarre; but that didn't mean it wasn't coming off just the way Captain Morgan was describing it.
"We've got a man on it. David Miller. You know him?"
Diana felt a little somersault in her guts. She nodded yes.
"He and my roommate had a thing going for awhile," Diana observed, knowing that that particular bit of insight wouldn't be news to Captain Morgan. The way the Captain didn't bother to make comment let Diana know that she was right. There weren't too many secrets around a precinct.
"You'll be working with Miller and Stan Wellington if you decide to come in on this one," Captain Morgan said. 'They're both good men; although, I won't for a minute try to minimize the potential danger to you even with those two men backing you all the way. We are, after all, dealing with some pretty shrewd operators here. And even though the LAPD had their eye on Miss Svenson, they never did pin anything on her-either on this group thing or on a one-to-one customer basis. We've got to be careful she doesn't start screaming police harassment before we get anything concrete enough to haul her ass in."
"And my job, if I volunteer, is what?" Diana asked. "Spending the next couple of months in a whole line of single bars with the one-in-a-hundred chance that some guy is going to pick me, over several thousand other horny women, to deliver up to a group of SandM freaks?"
"We've had the police artist draw up a picture of both Daniel Morrow and Jeff Gregory from the descriptions given by the victims. We're hoping that will cut down the element of chance. After all, it seems hardly likely this group would use a new procurer every time they wanted a new victim, wouldn't you agree?"
Diana shuffled through the photographs still laid down on the desk in front of her. If she did volunteer for this assignment, and if things didn't go right, there was the very good chance that her naked and whip-striped body would be among the photos next looked at by a policewoman brought in to volunteer for the case.
"You want to take a little time to think about this?" Captain Morgan asked, wondering how the prospect of being gang-raped mentally affected this policewoman who already had a reputation for being anything but generous with her sexual favors. Still, surprisingly enough, Captain Morgan had found Diana hardly blinking an eye when he had mentioned there would be no watertight guarantees that she wouldn't become the group's next victim. Possibly, there was a steam boiler building beneath her reported icy exterior. If Captain Morgan were younger . . . if he weren't married . . . if he didn't have two kids.. . if sex weren't actually becoming more bother than it was worth.. .
"I'll let you know tomorrow," Diana said, gathering up the photos, tapping their combined lower edges against the desk and filing them back into their envelope.
"Fine," Captain Morgan said, wondering-despite himself-what it would be like to chain this woman cop up and ram his hard, blood-engorged cock upward between her helplessly splayed legs.
Captain Morgan felt the sudden pulsations of his thick cock going into erection; and, he cussed himself silently for having indulged in his little bout of harmless sexual fantasy. What, after all, was he supposed to do now with his hard cock? Erections came up on him so seldom anymore that he didn't have a steady hooker hanging around in the wings to take care of him. And his wife always had a headache whenever Harry was up to fucking her.
Captain Morgan followed Diana out of his office, watching the sexy swing of Diana's firm little ass. However, when Diana turned left, the Captain turned right and entered the men's room.
Picking a vacant stall, Harry pulled the door closed behind him and unbuckled his belt.
A few seconds later, using stiff toilet paper to wipe his hand clean of his pitiful discharge of cum, Captain Harry Morgan was musing on the sad state of affairs that had him finding it somehow preferable to whip his own hard-on to climax, instead of going to the effort needed to line up a warm cunt to poke his prick into.