by P R Ellis
She could feel her energy draining away. Her level of fitness had not been maintained during her convalescence. She gasped for breath. A strange rasping sound came from his mouth as air failed to enter his lungs. He was weakening too. She mustn’t give up. This was her one chance of freedom. She pressed her thighs together as hard as she could.
His arms and legs went limp. His struggles ceased. She held on for a few seconds longer. Then released him. His body slipped from between her legs and he slumped to the floor beside the bed. Was he dead? She didn’t know but she had to get free – quickly.
Her left wrist was still above her head, but she could see the catch that locked the handcuff. Her right hand undid it. Her hands were free. Now she just had to release the lead attached to the neck collar. The chain had pulled tight but by pushing at it, she was able to loosen and untie it. Her upper body was free at last. She pushed herself up and winced. The pressure from her thighs had forced the dildo deep into her vagina. She lay back and felt between her labia for the base of it. Her heart was beating fast. Had she damaged herself? Was she haemorrhaging? She grasped it and slid the dildo out. She looked down. There no sign of blood but she felt sore, as if she had been violated. She breathed again and reached forward to tear the Velcro apart from the cuff around her left ankle. She slid across the bed, every muscle in her body aching from being bound and immobile for a few hours and then forced into violent action.
A moan came from the floor. Jasmine rolled off the bed, the dog lead trailing beside her. She knelt beside Clive. He was alive at least. She was glad she hadn’t killed him. He wasn’t a bad man, just misguided. She crawled back onto the bed and removed the two pairs of cuffs. She reused them on Clive’s limbs. When she was sure he was secure and breathing she sat on the bed shaking.
A few minutes passed before she felt ready to move and that was only when Clive spoke in cracked semi-whisper. ‘You tricked me.’
‘Perhaps you obey women too easily.’
‘Not all women.’
‘Some then. Are you feeling okay?’
‘My throat hurts.’
‘But you can breathe?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, you can stay there then.’
He moaned and strained at the bindings but failed to free himself. Jasmine forced herself to stand. Her legs ached, her body ached, her groin was sore and her head felt full of needles. She stepped over the slave and placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. She staggered through the door and down the stairs relying on the banister to keep herself upright. In the hallway she started to look for a phone. She could have asked Clive where it was but she hadn’t thought of it and wasn’t going back upstairs to speak to him. She went into the first room, a living room, surveyed the contents and saw a handset sitting in a cradle on a sideboard. She picked it up and dialled a familiar number.
23
SUNDAY 20th OCTOBER
EVENING
The line phone rang. Tom paused in the doorway. Terry Hopkins was at the back of the quartet leaving the office.
‘Get that, Terry,’ Tom said. DC Hopkins turned around and hurried to the desk. He picked up the phone.
‘Violent and Serious Crime Unit, DC Hopkins speaking. Hello?’ He took the phone from his ear and called out. ‘It’s Frame.’
The other three officers scrambled around each other to get back into the office.
‘Let me speak to her,’ Tom reached out his hand. Terry passed him the handset.
‘Jasmine? Where are you?’ a pause, ‘What do you mean you don’t know?’ A longer pause. ‘Are you alright?’ a short pause. ‘Right, I’ll hold, you have a word with this guy.’ He took the phone away from his ear.
‘What’s happened to her?’ Sasha asked.
‘She was kidnapped, taken in the boot of a car somewhere. She’s in a house, she doesn’t know where but has managed to overpower her captor.’
‘What’s she doing now?’ Terry grumbled.
‘Gone to ask him where they are.’
‘Is she harmed?’ Hamid asked.
‘She sounded okay. A bit shaken perhaps but otherwise normal.’ A voice came from the handset. Tom lifted it to his ear.
‘I’m here, Jas. Where are you? Ringwood. That’s right down in Dorset isn’t it. Okay Hampshire. Right. Have you got the address?’ He beckoned for a notepad and pen. Sasha placed them on the desk in front of him. ‘Okay, give it me. I’ll get the local guys out to you ASAP. Are you sure you’re safe for a few minutes? Right, good, stay on the line.’ He handed the handset to DC Hopkins. ‘Keep talking to her Terry. She says she’s safe but I’m not sure.’
He grabbed a phone from another desk and started tapping keys.
Terry spoke into the phone. ‘It’s me again; Terry. Who abducted you, Jasmine?’ he listened. ‘DI Shepherd thought you might have gone to speak to Bunting. We’ve got Smith in custody. No, not Bunting. We’ll arrest her now. Oh, another thing, your new Mini was involved in a RTC on the M6. Yes, the M6. Probably a write-off. Do you know the guy who was driving it? What was he called? Winkle? What sort of name’s that? Oh, I see, a nickname.’
Tom returned. ‘Let me speak to her, please Terry.’ Hopkins handed over the phone. ‘Jas? The local police are on their way, blue lights and sirens. Should be there in minutes. What do you mean you have to get decent? What did they do to you?’ He took the phone from his ear and looked around at his colleagues.
‘She’s gone to find some clothes to wear before the response team turns up. Seems Bunting and Smith stripped her.’
‘They raped her?’ Sasha cried.
‘No, Jas didn’t say that, but they did something to her.’
‘They’re monsters,’ Sasha said.
‘Hmm, yes. We need to interrogate Harriet Bunting. Terry, Sasha, go and arrest her.’ Without another word DCs Hopkins and Patel left the office at a run.
Tom was still holding the phone loosely in his hand when there was the distant sound of sirens. He lifted it to his head, ‘Jasmine, are you there? Jasmine! Okay, you go to the door. We’ll see you soon.’ He ended the call and put the phone down.
‘The Hampshire guys have her. She’s safe.’ Tom said, for his own benefit as much as Hamid’s. ‘I think we need to have a chat with Tyler Smith, don’t you Hamid?’
DC Sassani nodded and together they walked out of the office.
………………
Jasmine ran up the stairs. Well, she tried to run, but her complaining muscles refused to carry her fast. She got back to the bedroom. Clive was still trussed up on the floor, she was relieved by that, but he was wheezing, which troubled her. There was no time to look after him now. She needed some clothes on her lower half. She scanned the room. There, flung in a corner, were her tights, knickers and skirt. The police would be here any moment, so just the skirt then. She grabbed it and stepped into it. Hurrying back down the stairs she struggled with the zip.
Sirens were approaching. She heard a voice. It was Tom on the phone. She went into the living room, picked up the handset.
‘Yes, I’m here. Got to go, they’re here.’ She thumbed the end button and dropped the phone onto the sofa. There was banging on the front door and shouts of “Police!”. She hurried into the hall. No sense in them bashing the door down. She pulled it open. Two uniformed officers stood in the porch. She saw their eyebrows rise and remembered to tug her anorak and the remains of her top around her body.
‘We were told that an incident was in progress here,’ the closest police officer said.
‘Yes, that’s right. Come in. My captor’s upstairs in the bedroom.’
The officer pushed past her and climbed the stairs slowly, calling out that he was a police officer. The second officer stepped inside and stood examining Jasmine. There was a strange expression on his face. She realised that the dog collar was still around her neck with the lead trailing over her shoulder. More sirens signalled the imminent arrival of more police.
A call came from the top of the s
tairs. ‘Hey, Kev. Come up here,’
Kev followed his partner up the stairs. Jasmine looked out of the door as the second police car screeched to a halt. She was unsure what to do so just stood watching. Two more officers jumped out of the car and ran towards her.
Kev came back down the stairs speaking into his radio. ‘We need an ambulance here,’ he said. He looked at Jasmine and frowned.
‘Can you come in here please, er, Miss,’ he said urging Jasmine into the lounge. ‘What’s been going on here then? The guy upstairs has bruising on his neck and is having trouble breathing. There’s a dildo on the bed. A BDSM scene got a bit out of hand?’
‘No, officer, I was being held against my wishes.’
‘You were? It’s the other guy who is bound like a turkey at Christmas.’
‘I know,’ Jasmine said, exasperation creeping into her voice. ‘I managed to get away and put the cuffs on him, so he couldn’t catch me again.’
The second pair of police officers entered. Kev looked at them.
‘This is a crime scene, upstairs anyway. Looks like some kind of sex scenario. There’s an injured male in the bedroom. You’d better look after this, er, woman.’
‘Is she under arrest?’ One of the newcomers asked.
‘I’m the injured party,’ Jasmine complained. The two men and one woman glared at her.
Kev glared at her. ‘Get her out of the way while we assess the situation.’
‘I haven’t got anything on my feet,’ Jasmine pointed out. The officers looked down at her bare legs and feet.
‘Where are your shoes?’ Kev asked.
‘I don’t know. Basingstoke, I expect.’ She looked at the officers’ uniforms noting the Hampshire Constabulary badges and insignia.
‘How did you get here then?’ Kev went on.
‘In the boot of a Mercedes.’
The officers raised their eyebrows.
‘Get something to cover her feet and put her in your car,’ Kev said. The female officer went out.
‘There’s no Merc outside. Is it in the garage?’ Kev asked.
‘No, they’ve gone,’ Jasmine said
‘They?’
‘Harriet Bunting and Tyler Smith.’
Kev looked confused. ‘Who are they?’
‘Suspects in a case I was working on.’
‘You’re a police officer?’ Kev didn’t seem convinced and looked her up and down.
‘No, but I was helping out.’
‘Who’s the guy upstairs?’
‘I only know him as Clive.’
Kev frowned as if trying to decide whether to believe what he’d been told.
The female officer returned with a pair of elasticated plastic overshoes. Jasmine took them from her outstretched hand and snapped them over her feet.
‘Right. Off you go,’ Kev said, ‘We’ll secure the house for SOCO.’
The woman took Jasmine’s arm and tugged her towards the door. Jasmine thought about struggling and complaining but decided this maybe wasn’t the time. She could get Tom to sort things out soon. Let the officers do their duty. She allowed herself to be taken to the police car and be put into the back seat. Once she was in, the officer closed the door. With the child-locks operating she wasn’t going anywhere. The woman got into the passenger seat. More vehicles were arriving, police cars with lights flashing and sirens sounding.
‘What’s your name?’ the PC asked, ‘I need to make a note.’
‘Jasmine Frame.’
The officer scribbled it down and spoke into her radio describing to the control centre what was happening. After a few more minutes, an ambulance arrived. Clive would be having a trip to the hospital rather than a custody cell, Jasmine thought, but she hoped he wasn’t badly hurt. She didn’t want that on her conscience replacing the satisfaction of having escaped from him.
The officer’s partner returned and got into the driving seat.
‘We’ve been instructed to get this one to the station,’ he said, starting the car.
‘Which police station?’ Jasmine asked.
The driver twisted around to look at her.
‘Southampton. Put the seat belt on please and unless you’re not feeling well I suggest you say nothing until you’re in the interview room.’
Jasmine tugged the seatbelt across her chest and locked it in place. I’m still the guilty one as far as they’re concerned, she thought. I hope Tom has told them what’s happening. The driver manoeuvred around the other parked vehicles and then they sped off into the night.
………………
Tyler Smith was slumped in the chair. He didn’t move when Tom and Hamid entered the interview room and presented a bored expression.
‘What did you do to Jasmine Frame?’ Tom began. Smith jerked as if shocked. Suddenly he looked alert, not bored.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You abducted Jasmine and took her to Ringwood. Why?’
Smith looked pale and worried, but he didn’t speak.
‘Tell me, Mr Smith, what did you do to her?’
Tyler shook his head. ‘I’m not saying anything. I want a solicitor.’
Tom sighed, a resigned, annoyed sigh. ‘You’ll get your solicitor, but you will answer questions, because Jasmine will be back soon and she’ll have a story to tell. You will be charged with kidnapping, holding someone against their wishes and whatever other offences I can make stick. You and Harriet Bunting. And that’s before we start on the murder of Evelyn Bunting and the arson at Molly’s. So, if you want to reduce your time in prison you had better start telling the truth.’
Tom stood and strode out of the interview room. Hamid jumped up with surprise and hurried after him. Tom kept up his determined pace all the way back to the office. As they entered, his phone rang. He dug it out of his jacket pocket.
‘Hi, Terry. What’s up?’
‘She’s not here,’ DC Hopkins said.
‘Bunting’s gone? What about the car?’
‘The Merc’s still here. She doesn’t drive does she?’
‘I don’t think so. She had Smith drive her everywhere.’
‘Well, she’s not in the house. She’s done a runner.’
‘Anybody see her leave?’
‘Patel’s knocking on doors. I spoke to one set of neighbours. They saw nothing. But it’s a quiet neighbourhood. She could easily have slipped out without anyone noticing.’
Tom pursed his lips. ‘OK, Terry. You and Sasha get back here. We’ll put out a call for her and think about where she might have gone.’
Tom ended the call.
Hamid stared at him. ‘Harriet Bunting’s missing?’
‘She’s slipped out of our hands, Hamid. Now that tells us a lot about her guilt doesn’t it? She doesn’t know that we know about Jasmine. She just thinks we’ve called in Tyler for questioning about the fire and murder. I think her nerve has broken and now she’s desperate. Who has she got who can help her?’
Hamid shook his head.
‘These guys that Jasmine’s been learning about. Her sex slaves.’
‘The ones she keeps the keys for?’
‘That’s right. We need to get Jasmine back quickly. She’s got all we know on those strange fellows. Let’s find out what’s happening down in Hampshire.’
24
SUNDAY 20th OCTOBER
EVENING, LATER
The chair was hard. She didn’t feel very comfortable. In fact, she felt sore all over and her head and groin were still throbbing. At least she had a mug of coffee, the familiar, cheap, instant variety found in all police stations. She warmed her hands on the mug resting on the table. Jasmine wasn’t used to sitting on this side, waiting for someone to come and ask her questions.
It wasn’t long before the door opened and an unfamiliar detective entered. He was male, white, with a short beard, the unshaved type of beard. Jasmine didn’t get up to greet him, waited for him to say something. He looked at her, glanced at the sheet of paper he was holding then sat
down opposite her and looked at her again.
‘Jasmine Frame?’
She nodded.
‘I’m DS Dobson.’
‘How do you do.’ Jasmine treated him to a smile. He didn’t return it.
‘You were picked up in Ringwood this evening at a house belonging to…’ he glanced at the sheet, ‘Clive Lawton.’ He looked at her as if expecting some comment.
‘I didn’t know his surname,’ she said.
‘Mr Lawton was found conscious but with an injury to his neck. He’s been taken to hospital.’
‘I hope he gets well soon.’
Dobson frowned. ‘Can you explain how he was injured and what you were doing at the house.’
Jasmine smiled. At last she could explain. ‘Mr Lawton was holding me prisoner, but I managed to escape and in doing so he came to some harm.’
‘How exactly did you injure him?’
‘I crushed his trachea between my thighs until he passed out.’
Dobson grimaced. ‘Was that degree of violence necessary?’
‘I think so. My arms and legs had been bound and my neck fastened to the head board. I had persuaded Clive to release one arm and leg, but he wouldn’t have let me go completely unless I over-powered him.’
‘And why were you in this position? Was it some kind of sex game?’
‘No. I told you. He was holding me prisoner.’
‘Why?’
‘On the instructions of Harriet Bunting.’
The DS looked confused, peered at his sheet of paper again then back at Jasmine. ‘Who is she?’
‘She’s a Mistress, a dominatrix if you like. She controls men like Clive Lawton who are her slaves.’
DS Dobson shook his head as if finding Jasmine’s story incredible. ‘How does she control these “slaves”?’
‘She holds the keys to their cock cages.’
