Her Body is Mine

by Wild, Lucy

  HER BODY IS MINE

  A Dark Romance

  Lucy Wild

  ¶

  PRONOUN

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  Copyright © 2017 by Lucy Wild

  Interior design by Pronoun

  Distribution by Pronoun

  ISBN: 9781537877778

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  More by Lucy Wild

  HER BODY IS MINE

  LUCY WILD

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  I went undercover to find a killer. Then he found me.

  I signed up to the Restraint Club for work, not pleasure. Girls have been going missing and it’s my job to find out why.

  I needed to blend in or risk blowing my cover.

  So I submitted to the auction.

  Now I’ve been bought by a sexy rich stranger and he wants to take my innocence.

  I tell myself I’m only doing this to find out the truth.

  But what began as work is starting to feel a lot like pleasure.

  Even when it begins to hurt.

  © Copyright 2017 Lucy Wild

  All characters in this book are fictitious.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part.

  This book is intended for mature audiences only and may contain explicit language and scenes.

  ONE

  MONDAY MORNING AND I WAS already being called into see the boss. Never a good start to the week. If I’d known the week would end with me naked and spanked in front of a room full of people, I would have told him exactly where he could stick his undercover operation. But I had no idea just what was in store for me when he yelled my name across the office.

  “West, get in here.”

  I had just taken my jacket off and slung it over my chair. I hadn’t even sat down yet.

  “Now!” he added before turning and vanishing.

  “And good morning to you too,” I muttered as the office oohed and tutted at me.

  “What you done, West?”

  “His wife found out about you two?”

  “Two sugars in mine once you’re done with him.”

  I flipped the bird as I passed by the other desks, trying to keep the smile from falling away. I had no intention of letting them know I was nervous. I’d only been with the department for six months and I’d yet to be involved in a case of any depth. So far all I’d done was grunt work, tailing other detectives, none of whom took too kindly on having a rookie thrust upon them.

  I pushed open the door to the chief’s office, finding him sat behind his desk, flicking through a file. “You called, Sir?” I asked as I closed the door behind me.

  “Sit down and listen, West,” he said, pointing at the chair without looking up. He continued flicking through the file while I watched, wondering if this was some kind of power play. Keep me waiting, assert his authority. That would explain the nameplate on his desk. Etched brass. Detective Chief Inspector L Gayle. We all knew who he was, why bother with a nameplate?

  He looked worryingly close to a heart attack, blotchy skin, veins bulging, running entirely on coffee and surreptitious cigarettes out of the window that he thought none of us knew about. The office stank of smoke, it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to work out what was going on.

  “What do you know about the Restraint Club?” he asked, closing the file and looking up at me at last.

  “I think you’re a good boss but I’d prefer if you bought me dinner first.”

  “Very funny,” he replied without smiling. “What do you know about it?”

  “It’s a bondage club. Somewhere politicians go to get spanked by leather clad ladies of leisure. Licensed and legal as far as I know. Why?”

  “Three girls have gone missing from there in the last month.”

  “Murdered?”

  “We don’t know. All we know is that they were there and then they weren’t. The club owner’s starting to get twitchy and I think you can understand why.”

  “Because if word got out that his club wasn’t safe-”

  “He’d be out of business, exactly.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” he said, sliding the file across to me. “I want you to go undercover.”

  I began flicking through the file. Three photos of girls younger than me.

  “Cassandra Macintyre,” Gayle said. “Nineteen years old. Last seen on the third, vanished at the end of her shift and didn’t come back in.”

  I moved onto the next photo. This one looked even younger. Was she even legal?

  “Yvette Briers, also known as Babyface. She’s twenty-one and that’s a wig, she’s naturally blonde same as Cassandra. She went out for a cigarette halfway through the night and didn’t come back. That was a week ago.”

  “Getting careless? Took the first one out and then got cocky, snatching the second mid shift.”

  “Maybe. And then there’s Beth.”

  I moved to the final photo. She looked happier than the other two. The shot was taken outside, it looked like it had been lifted off the internet, slightly pixellated, not great quality. There was an innocence to it. “That was taken three years ago, it’s the best we’ve been able to get.”

  “What about Facebook? Instagram?”

  “Privacy settings. Officially she’s not missing yet, she just didn’t turn up to work last night. Left a note in her dressing room that was to quote the club owner, out of character.”

  I knew what he was talking about. Until twenty-four hours were up, she wasn’t even a statistic. Only then could we start to lean on the social media companies to open up access. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. But if that was the only photo we could get of her, that would make her...

  “Nineteen now.”

  “What the hell happened between sixteen and nineteen to take her from smiling on a beach to abducted from a BDSM club?”

  “You tell me, West, that’s what you’re paid to do.”

  “When do I start?”

  “How’s the Gleeson case?”

  “Just mopping up really.”

  “Think Halifax can spare you?”

  “Would it matter if he couldn’t?”

  “Not really. Any questions?”

  “So many questions. Why me for a start?”

  He coughed violently, unable to speak for a minute. The veins bulged more alarmingly than ever before he finally got a lid on it. “You’re the only woman here. If we go in mobhanded, the killer will see us a mile off and be out of there before we can blink.”

  “So you do think they’ve been killed?”

  “I, like you, withhold judgment until all the evidence has been gathered. But I doubt they’ve decided as a trio to join a knitting group. They might be alive, West, but all my years of service would suggest it’s unlikely. Is that a P.C enough answer for you?”

  I nodded. “What do y
ou want me to do?”

  “It’s all in the file. Read it thoroughly. Tomorrow night, you sign up at the club, you get in, you look around, you ask the important questions and then you report back to me. That is, if you think you’re up to it?”

  He caught the nervous expression on my face and I toned it down. I was nervous, but not for the reasons he thought. I wanted him to think it was because I was going to have to go undercover at a bondage club, an environment I knew nothing about. But, I was more nervous that I might let slip the fact that I’d always wanted to go there. I’d never dared, dressing as a sexy submissive, being ordered what to do by some muscleclad masked dominant. The thought was enough to make me shiver.

  But it wasn’t the kind of place an aspiring detective could frequent, not without word starting to get round. So I’d filed it away in the mental drawer marked “Dreams never to be fulfilled,” alongside travelling to the moon and getting my cat to learn that my head wasn’t a pillow.

  But now I had the perfect excuse. Not only that but the chief needed me. If I could get this right, it would do my career no end of good. All I had to do was work out where the girls were. Simple. Or so I thought.

  TWO

  THE CHIEF NEGLECTED TO TELL me one very important thing. Or maybe he didn’t know about the auctions. Either way, I was in way too deep, about to be bought by someone in the crowd. Luckily it was someone I knew. Unluckily it was the man who’d told me I owed him a favour and I had no doubt he was about to call it in.

  I knew him in the sense that I’d met him on the way to the club. I’d chosen to walk there, wanting to get a sense of the approach to the place, something you just couldn’t get by car. I had chosen my outfit carefully, opting for a tight black dress, no bra, thong to reduce VPL. It was exciting just to put the thing on and look at myself in the mirror. I had to remind myself why I was doing this, slapping myself in the face as I looked at my reflection. “You’re there to find the girls,” I said, pointing a finger. “Nothing else.”

  But my nipples ignored my command, remaining so sensitive, they tingled with each movement of the dress as I gathered up my jacket and headed for the door. I had gone for heels. Flats would have been better to run in but they would have stood out like a...well like an undercover detective in a bondage club.

  It was a warm night but I kept my jacket on, not wanting to draw too much attention to myself this close to home. It would take half an hour to walk to the club according to the internet and within ten minutes, my feet were already aching. I was not used to walking any great distance in heels. At least I hadn’t gone for the stilettos, I’d have been crippled before I even got there.

  I was just turning onto Wentworth Street when I was spotted from across the street. I had already clocked them as potential trouble. If I’d been in uniform, I might have gone over but I had a job to do. I kept walking, ignoring their taunts.

  It was clear as day what had happened. Three men who’d had too many early in the day and been either thrown out or refused entry to the Ice Bar behind them. Refused entry seemed more likely as they were angry, taking it out on the doormen before they saw me.

  I picked up the pace, unhappy to hear their footsteps getting closer behind me as they crossed the road, still calling after me.

  “What’s the hurry, darling?”

  “Want some company?”

  “Nice legs, what time do they open?”

  I kept going. I couldn’t break cover, not now. They weren’t the type to abduct girls, that much was obvious, just chancing their arm in drink before ending the night in the cells. Tomorrow they’d be back at the office they worked in, laughing about that slut they saw. That slut was me. My fists slowly clenched and unclenched. Relax, don’t get distracted. You’ve a job to do.

  “Oi!” The voice was much closer and there was a thud of feet before the first man angled round me, stopping dead in the middle of the pavement, pointing a wobbling finger at me. “I’m talking to you.”

  “I’m not interested,” I said, not making eye contact. “Excuse me.”

  I went to step round him but the other two had caught up and I was trapped in the middle of them all. Perfect. What was I supposed to do? Knock them all out and run for it? Arrest them and blow my cover?

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” the leader asked, grinning at his two acolytes for approval. “Don’t like the look of a real man?”

  “If I see one, I’ll let you know,” I said, going to push past him. They closed ranks, getting too close to me. I clenched my fists again, looking for the weakest leg to sweep. Then I heard the sound of car tyres screeching to a halt on the road next to us. A man’s voice called out, “Good evening gentlemen.”

  I looked past acolyte two to see a man in a black suit stepping out of the back seat of the car. He brushed his tie down as he strolled over like he was walking through a park in the middle of summer.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the leader asked, turning away from me and staggering over to Mr Suit. “Why don’t you fuck the fuck off?”

  “An erudite suggestion,” Mr Suit replied. “To which I gather the appropriate retort is, why don’t you make me?”

  The leader nodded to his acolytes who approached warily, not used to seeing a face unafraid of them. Mr Suit smiled, took a step forwards and then leaned in close, whispering something to the two of them. Their faces went white, all the colour draining out of them before they walked hurriedly off together, glancing behind them as they headed up the street.

  “Oi,” the leader said, shouting after them. “Where are you going?” He turned back to Mr Suit. “What did you say to them? Threaten to bum them, did you?”

  “Precisely that,” Mr Suit said. “Up for it?”

  “You’re fucking mental.”

  “Off you pop,” Mr Suit said, waving him away. “Your colleagues will be wondering where you are.”

  “You want a fight?”

  “Oh, you’re just a walking cliché aren’t you? Do I want a fight? My Dad’s bigger than your Dad. Who hurt you as a child, hmm? Come on, you can tell Rex.”

  “You chicken or something? I’ll fucking have you.” He started marching over but Mr Suit stood his ground.

  “You get one shot,” Mr Suit said, not moving an inch. “Make it count.”

  The leader looked confused for a moment before throwing his arm back and then bringing it forwards at speed, aiming for Mr Suit’s chin.

  He missed. Mr Suit leaned back just far enough for the arm to continue swinging through empty air. The momentum made the leader’s body turn and as it did so, Mr Suit caught hold of his shoulder, giving it the gentlest push, sending him tumbling to the ground.

  “Can I offer you a lift?” Mr Suit said, looking at me for the first time. “I’m friendlier than he is.”

  “That’s what worries me,” I replied as the leader struggled back to his feet, looking from one of us to the other, his eyes bleary. He went to say something but then cut his losses, staggering off down the street without looking back.

  “Where you headed?” Mr Suit asked.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” I replied, turning and starting to walk before stopping a second later. I looked back, seeing Mr Suit climbing back into the car. “You often out this way?” I asked.

  “Every now and then.”

  “Go to the clubs round here?”

  “Perhaps, why?”

  “No reason. Can I still have that lift?”

  “Sure. Where you headed?”

  “You heard of the Restraint Club?”

  A smile spread across his lips. “That’s a coincidence. I was just going there myself.”

  If it’s one thing I’d learned in my time in training, it’s to concentrate on coincidence. It was far too convenient that he happened to stop by a damsel in distress and that he happened to be headed to the very same club as me.

  He didn’t know I wasn’t in distress. He didn’t know why I was going to the club. But I knew about him already. I knew he co
uld handle himself. I knew he was a smug son of a bitch with a smirk that spoke of inbuilt arrogance. I knew there was a chance he had something to do with the disappearance of the three girls and he might have me lined up as the fourth.

  I also knew he was the most handsome man I’d ever met. Chiselled jaw, strong chin, deep blue eyes, well fitting suit, deep voice that made my insides melt.

  Professional, I told myself. My nipples stiffened again as I climbed in to sit next to him on the back seat, his arm brushing against mine.

  “I saved you,” he said, reinforcing what I thought about his arrogance. “You owe me a favour.”

  You’re a professional, I thought silently. Ignore how much you’d like to tear off that suit and fuck him. He’s clearly a bad guy, he might even be a killer. Don’t even think about fucking him. Which worked fine, until he bought me at the auction.

  THREE

  I WANTED TO GO STRAIGHT to the dressing room, see if the note was still there. It had been left in a card according to the file but the card itself wasn’t included which suggested it was still here. But I didn’t get chance, being funnelled through the reception without a moment’s privacy.

  “Glad to have you signed up,” the middle aged woman with too much make up was saying as she hustled me through, leaving Rex Coppack back at the entrance, paying for his admission with that smirk still fixed on his face.

  I’d found out a bit about him during the journey. His name, the fact that he was rich. I wasn’t sure how rich but he had a driver so he had to be worth a fair bit. He was cagey about what he did for a living, probably nothing. He’d inherited it, no doubt, never had to work hard, it would explain his manner. I’d asked him where he learnt to fight but he changed the subject to talk about me. I had to think hard to remember the back story the file had set up for me. Maddy, no kids, no family, moved here a year ago, work in finance. Looking to let my hair down at the club. I didn’t need to flesh out the details, we’d arrived at the club.

  When I told the doorman I wanted to sign up, he pointed to the woman in the hallway behind him. She was sitting behind a tiny desk, typing on a laptop. When I told her the same story, she grabbed me and began leading me with her arm round my shoulder, talking nonstop the entire time. “You’ll have such a good time,” she said. “And we needed to make up the numbers for the auction so this is perfect.”