Molly's Boudoir: the 4th Jasmine Frame novel (Jasmine Frame Detective)

by P R Ellis

  ‘It wasn’t like that, not really,’ Gary was sweating, ‘and that wasn’t what we talked about.’ The girl pushed herself away from him.

  Tom butted in to the exchange between the two lovers. ‘What was it you did talk about then Mr Nicholls?’

  Gary looked from his girlfriend to DI Shepherd and DC Patel. He sighed and subsided onto the sofa.

  ‘OK. It’s nothing I had any part in other than driving Harriet to her appointments.’ He paused.

  ‘What did you have nothing to do with?’ Tom urged him on.

  ‘Her men, her slaves. The ones she charges for holding their keys.’

  ‘The keys to the chastity cages?’ Tom wanted confirmation. Nicholls nodded. ‘We know about that. Jasmine told me last night about two of the guys Mrs Bunting was with on Tuesday evening. Smith wasn’t with her when she was, um, servicing them.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Nicholls said, appealing to Tracy. ‘I didn’t stay in the room while Harriet made them perform for her.’

  ‘But something you said might have set Jasmine thinking. What did you say to her?’

  Nicholls shook his head. ‘I don’t know, I hardly knew those weirdoes. They just seemed to worship her like a goddess and would do anything she asked them to do.’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, but they did everything Harriet told them to do, whether it was paying for the hotels or buggering each other. Harriet was always going on about the stuff she made them do. It tickled her.’

  Tom was thoughtful, ‘The men will do whatever Harriet Bunting ordered them to do?’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Nicholls glared at Tom.

  ‘Including arson or murder?’

  Nicholls looked worried, as if he realised that he could be an accessory to whatever criminal acts Harriet had made her slaves take part in. ‘She never mentioned anything like that.’

  ‘But perhaps, under pressure, she would use whatever resources she had,’ Tom mused. He turned to Sasha. ‘Do you think perhaps that was what Jasmine thought and decided to ask Harriet Bunting some more questions?’

  ‘Perhaps, Sir, but Hamid has been at the address Harriet Bunting is staying at since soon after mid-day and there hasn’t been any sign of them, or Jasmine.’

  ‘We need to find Harriet and Tyler and then perhaps we’ll find Jasmine. Come on.’ Tom faced Nicholls and Tracy. ‘Thank you, Mr Nicholls for your assistance. We may have other questions later.’

  Tracy smiled sweetly at them. ‘I’ll see you out.’ She lead Tom and Sasha back to the front door. ‘I hope you find your tranny helper.’

  As Tom stepped across the door step he turned and glared. ‘Jasmine has as much right to be called a woman as you, and she is a very competent detective. I suggest you choose the terms you refer to people by carefully, or else you might find yourself charged with using offensive language.’

  The woman’s face turned from smug to worried. She closed the door.

  Sasha stood staring at the door. ‘What’s she got against Jasmine?’

  ‘You tell me,’ Tom said, ‘I’m just a poor, bemused bloke.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Sasha mused, ‘I think she’s got confused by her boyfriend’s history with the Buntings and is asserting her femininity and heterosexuality. You know some feminists have it in for transsexuals like Jasmine.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have considered Nicholls’ girlfriend a radical feminist but perhaps you’re right. Come on. Let’s see if there’s any news of Bunting and Smith – and Jasmine.’ They hurried back to the police car. Tom called Terry Hopkins.

  ‘Hi Terry. Any news?’

  ‘Some. Bunting and Smith turned up. Hamid arrested Smith and is bringing him in.’

  ‘What about Harriet?’

  ‘You didn’t want her arrested.’

  Tom winced. Should he have asked for her to be brought in too? ‘I know. Where is she?’

  ‘Still where she’s staying I expect.’

  ‘Hmm, right. Did she or Smith tell Hamid where they’d been all afternoon?’

  ‘I don’t know. Hamid didn’t say whether he’d had a conversation. I think he was chuffed that he didn’t have to sit in the car any longer.’

  ‘No word on Jasmine then?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘OK Terry. We’re coming back.’

  Tom Shepherd pushed open the door to the office and was pleased to see Hamid talking to Terry.

  ‘Hamid. Did Bunting or Smith mention speaking to Jasmine.’

  The young detective shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t ask if they had seen her. I didn’t know…’

  ‘Of course not,’ Tom said ‘but from what Nicholls said I’m sure Jasmine was keen to speak to Mrs Bunting again. Did they say where they’d been all day?’

  ‘They said they had been out for Sunday lunch,’ Hamid replied.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t think where they had been was important.’

  ‘No, there wasn’t any reason for you to ask. We’ll have a chat with Tyler Smith in a minute.’

  ‘He’s being processed,’ Hamid said.

  An alert pinged on Terry’s computer. He bent down to look at the screen.

  ‘Hey, that’s weird.’

  ‘What is?’ Tom said.

  ‘There’s a sighting of Frame’s new car.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘On the M6, near Stoke.’

  ‘What on earth…’ Tom leaned down alongside Hopkins and stared at the screen.

  ‘Oh, god!’ Terry shouted.

  Sasha and Hamid gathered round.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Sasha said.

  Tom turned from the screen. ‘The patrol car that picked up Jasmine’s car, followed her but she refused to stop. She’s crashed into the central barrier.’

  All four of the detectives stared at the screen. Tom grabbed the phone and punched buttons. The other three stood looking on as he waited for a connection. He gave his name, asked a few questions, listened then put the phone down.

  ‘Well?’ Terry said, ‘What’s going on?’

  Tom was deep in thought then looked at DC Hopkins as if just seeing him. He smiled.

  ‘It wasn’t Jasmine.’

  The three officers appeared bemused. ‘What do you mean?’ Terry asked, ‘It was her car, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it was. They’ve checked the number. It’s still registered to the garage that Viv bought it from. But it’s definitely the car Jasmine picked up yesterday.’

  ‘So, what the fuck was it doing on the M6?’ Terry asked.

  ‘We don’t know yet, but had presumably been stolen,’ Tom explained. ‘When the ANPR flagged it up, the patrol car tried to get it to stop but the driver speeded up. In trying to pass a car in the outside lane it hit the central reservation and rolled. When the officers got to the car they found the driver was some guy. They haven’t been able to speak to him yet. He’s not badly injured but he’s been taken to hospital in Stoke. There’s no sign of Jasmine.’

  Terry asked, ‘So where’s Frame? Why hasn’t she reported her car stolen?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Her phone isn’t responding.’

  ‘Perhaps Tyler Smith knows something,’ Hamid said.

  Tom straightened up. ‘Yes, it’s time we spoke to him. Sasha, come with me. Terry and Hamid, go and see Mrs Bunting again. Persuade her to come in for questioning.’

  ‘Under arrest?’ Terry said.

  ‘There’s no evidence that she was involved in the arson attack on her home or the death of her husband, so no, not under arrest. Be polite. Try to convince her that she’s helping us.’

  ‘What about searching for Jasmine?’ Sasha asked.

  ‘Where? We’ve got no idea of where she went after leaving Nicholls. There’s a general call out for her. That will have to do for now.’ The four detectives moved towards the door.

  22

  SUNDAY 20th OCTOBER

  EVENING


  Jasmine tensed her muscles and pulled against the cuffs binding her wrists, to no avail. She rested, trying to ignore the ache in her head, listening for any sounds indicating what Peewee was doing. There was nothing, but she did slowly feel a little warmer. He must have turned the heating up as he had promised. That made her feel better; he was concerned for her welfare and comfort even if obeying Madame de la Clef was uppermost in his mind. Jasmine took the opportunity to review what she knew about the four of Bunting’s slaves that she had so far met. They were all at or approaching middle age, apparently single and all seemed besotted with her. They might vary in physical characteristics, unless Willy could be considered the odd one out, being overweight while the others were slim, but they seemed to have the single desire to obey their mistress. They must have imposed their chastity on themselves, she presumed, prior to handing their keys to Harriet but having fallen under her spell they were like potter’s clay in her hands.

  After a time that Jasmine had failed to keep track of, she heard steps on the stairs again. The door to her room was pushed open and Peewee entered. He carried a tumbler containing a colourless, clear liquid.

  ‘I thought you might need a glass of water,’ he said.

  A feeling of gratitude welled up in Jasmine. She had been trying to ignore her thirst and the dryness of her mouth.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. She twisted on her back with her hands underneath her and lifted her head. He lowered the glass to her and she sipped the liquid. The cool water was the best restorative. She swallowed. ‘What’s your real name? I can’t call you Peewee like Harriet Bunting does. That’s her slave-name for you.’

  He frowned as if weighing up what answer he should give. ‘It’s Clive,’ he said finally.

  ‘Thank you for the water, Clive.’

  His gaze at her almost naked body made Jasmine nervous.

  ‘How long is it since your operation?’ he asked.

  ‘Nearly six weeks,’ she answered.

  ‘You’re still recovering?’

  ‘Yes. It takes a long time.’

  ‘You had your penis and testicles removed and a vagina constructed?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘That is serious surgery.’

  Yes, Jasmine thought, and if I can’t get back to my routine of exercise soon it will all be wasted. It was now time for her third dilation of the day and she had missed the second already.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ he asked. ‘Why give up your penis?’

  ‘I’m a woman,’ Jasmine replied, ‘I wanted to have a woman’s body.’

  He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t want that.’

  She decided to ask a question which might extend the conversation or end it. ‘Why do you keep your penis locked up?’

  His hand reached to his groin. ‘My Mistress desires it.’

  ‘But you must have chosen to give yourself to your Mistress. Why?’

  ‘I was having thoughts.’

  ‘What kind of thoughts?’

  ‘Sinful thoughts, selfish thoughts.’

  ‘Sexual fantasies?’

  He nodded.

  ‘You thought wearing a chastity device would control your desires?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘Yes. If I even think of sex and I start to become aroused the cage presses against my flesh causing me pain.’

  ‘OK, if that’s the effect you want, but why did you give yourself to Harriet Bunting?’

  He grimaced at the sound of Madame’s real name. ‘Possessing the key myself was too much of a temptation. I had to put it out of my reach and give the responsibility of freeing myself from my wicked thoughts to her. She has control. I only have to carry out what she desires of me. Nothing that I feel matters anymore.’

  Jasmine couldn’t understand. ‘But she makes her slaves perform sex acts on themselves or on each other. A couple of them told me what they did. How does that help your sinful fantasies?’

  ‘Because it is what Madame desires not what I wish, and those acts can only occur when She has given her permission.’

  It was all nonsense, Jasmine considered. These men were deluded, and paying for it.

  ‘You would do anything your Mistress told you to do in order to remain under her control.’

  He nodded. ‘You don’t understand the joy that I and my fellow slaves get from pleasing Madame.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘You think we have given in to erroneous thoughts.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But aren’t you the same? You have denied your masculinity, removed the symbol of your manhood and accepted a role as a pseudo-female.’

  Jasmine felt a burst of anger. ‘I am a real woman. I have always been a woman even when I had a penis and testicles. Now I can have intercourse like a woman.’

  ‘But as Madame said, you cannot bear fruit like a woman. You have no ovaries. You do not produce eggs.’

  ‘Many women cannot have children,’ Jasmine insisted.

  ‘What then was your purpose in having the operation?’ he asked, ‘Was it just so that you could have a man insert his penis into your new hole?’

  His question made Jasmine gasp. Was that really all that she had gone through the pain and discomfort of her surgery for, at great expense to the health service. No. It wasn’t called Gender Confirmation Surgery for no reason. Her possession of a vagina proved she was a woman. She did want to have sex with one man, Viv, as soon as she was healed fully. She was looking forward to the pleasure of that act and was hopeful that when her nerves had fully recovered she would be able to reach a climax as a woman. But that wasn’t the point of her operation, was it?’

  ‘That’s important, but having a vagina confirms that I am a woman. That’s what is important to me, and why I must exercise.’

  ‘Exercise?’

  ‘I have to keep my vagina open. If I don’t it will close up and I won’t be fully a woman anymore.’

  He bent down to her. ‘How do you do it?’

  ‘I have to dilate three times a day.’

  ‘Dilate?’

  ‘Insert a tube, like a dildo.’

  He stood up and chuckled. ‘I have a dildo for a similar reason.’

  Jasmine was confused. ‘What?’

  ‘Madame has told me I must prepare myself for my next appointment.’

  Jasmine didn’t understand at first and then realisation dawned.

  ‘She wants to have one of her slaves bugger you!’

  Clive’s face turned pink.

  ‘You’re not gay. You haven’t done that before have you?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘But your mistress is making you do it to earn you a few minutes relief from your cage.’

  He nodded. ‘She says I must prepare myself by inserting the dildo every day.’

  ‘How big is it?’

  ‘I have two. I am using the smaller one. I haven’t yet managed the larger.’

  Jasmine thought of a way of achieving one or two of her desires.

  In a coy voice she said, ‘I’d like to see if yours are the same size as the ones I use.’

  A hungry look appeared on his face. ‘You’d like to use one of my dildos to do your exercise?’

  ‘Perhaps. I hope you clean them properly.’

  He looked offended. ‘Of course. If I let you borrow them you will let me watch?’

  She smiled. ‘I can hardly stop you doing that.’ It was the last thing she wanted but it suited her purpose.

  Clive left the room but returned a few moments later grasping an object in each hand. He held them up to show Jasmine. She grimaced when she saw the dildos. One was a huge black implement, eight inches long and a couple of inches in diameter. She didn’t want that anywhere near her groin. The other was a pink phallus of more acceptable dimensions no bigger than her middle dilator.

  She nodded to the smaller dildo. ‘I could use that one. Do you have any lube? I can’t use it dry.’

 
He left again and returned with a tube replacing the larger tool. He unscrewed the top and squeezed an ample quantity of the gel over the phallus.

  ‘You’ll have to let me spread my legs,’ Jasmine said.

  Clive put the lubricated dildo down on the mattress and looked pensive.

  ‘Madame said you must be kept bound.’

  ‘But she also said you must look after me. I need this, Clive.’

  ‘Hmm, okay.’ He pulled apart the Velcro holding the cuff around her right leg and re-fixed it around a bar in the foot-board. ‘There. How’s that.’

  Jasmine stretched her legs. Her right leg was free to bend or stretch as she pleased. She didn’t want to give Peewee Clive a glimpse of her vulva but the relief at being able to move overcame her reluctance. She parted her legs. Clive stared as if in a trance.

  ‘Thank you, Clive. Now can you let me have a hand free to hold the dildo, please.’ She rolled on to her left side so that the slave could get at her arms. He bent down and undid the handcuff around her right wrist and refastened it around one of the head-board’s bars. Jasmine twisted round, her left hand now above her head and her right hand free.

  ‘Give me the dildo please, Clive.’ He placed it in her hand.

  She parted her thighs and raised her right knee. She touched the tip of the dildo to her vulva, and gasped. The first touch on her clitoris was always a surprise, perhaps because the contours of her flesh were still new and unfamiliar and the nerves not yet fully recovered. She rubbed the greased tip of the tool against her labia, to give them some lubrication.

  ‘Do you want to come closer, Clive,’ she said softly, ‘You want to see, don’t you?’

  He leaned over the bed, his head between her legs. She pushed the dildo against her hole, ever so gently. The tip passed between her lips, entering her. She gasped again. It wasn’t painful, rather the opposite.

  ‘Come on Clive, closer. See how it‘s entering me like a real cock could. Like your cock could if it was free.’

  Her taunt encouraged him to bend closer, his head approaching her groin. She lifted her foot so that it was over his shoulder. He peered at the implement protruding from her vagina. She pushed it lightly and it slid further in. Clive’s head followed it.

  She brought her right thigh down across his neck. Trapping his head against her left thigh. She squeezed, applying all the force she could muster in her thigh muscles and hips. His arms flailed and his legs kicked out. His fingers grabbed at her legs but failed to find a grip. She caught his left arm in her hand and twisted. His screech was muffled by the thigh compressing his throat. His body heaved but she hung on, squeezing with all the power she could muster.