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(Part 4 from 6)

“Untouched?” he asked.


“Good. Then reseal the safe and we will take you home after a general question. The first of which is; who has the keys to your office, because the door was not forced?”

“No one,” she lied as she thought of Millicent. “I have a great number of sensitive documents here. At the moment I do not even have a secretary!”

Why had she lied? Crystal was not sure, but it was instinct. There was no way that she wanted Millicent involved in an investigation. Not when Crystal had so much planned for that luscious body!

“We will need you to come to the station house tomorrow and make a statement. What time would be suitable?”

“In the afternoon at three?”

“Fine, I’ll see you then. The crime scene will be secure until then as I am leaving an officer here so you cannot start the clean-up until forensics have passed through tomorrow.”


Refusing a ride from the police, Crystal called a taxi and started on the journey home. After about five minutes of driving she pulled out her phone and checked Millicent’s address.

There was a moment’s thought and she told the driver to take her there. Crystal had never been to Millicent’s house before, but now she had a sudden curious impulse. Just a few hours ago she had been pondering how she was going to capture Millicent for her own deviant use. Now she just wanted to see where she lived.

It was the raw start of her plan…

The taxi pulled up at a small row of shops and a supermarket. Crystal gave the driver a fifty to wait for her and went for a little explore. As she had suspected she found steps to the second floor in the car park at the back of the supermarket.

This was where her future slave slut lived!

Crystal pulled her fur coat around her shoulders against the cold and slowly ascended the stairs to be faced by a glass door. Obviously there was no one home, all the lights were off.

She pressed the buzzer and waited, but there was no answering approach from within. About to turn away, she tested the door handle to find that the flat was unlocked.

Curiosity drove her on.

Of course she had the excuse about the break-in if she was caught by Millicent. Crystal just wanted to see the house that Millicent lived in. There was much to find out about the style in which one lived.

She opened the door.

There was a smell of piss that brought her back to the scene of her office. Shaking her head she entered the apartment. Millicent seemed so tidy and fastidious, why would her flat smell so bad. A smell of stale cigarette smoke underlay the smell of festering urine.

Crystal entered the apartment.

It was untidy. Plates smeared with food. Cartons from takeaways, a sofa on its back and broken glass. Wandering from room to room, Crystal was shocked by the disorder. Not just disorder; the place was worse than a pigsty.

She opened the door to the bathroom door.

A naked woman, bruised, splashed with blood, tied to the bowl of the toilet. Millicent was gagged, savagely. A belt had been used to hold the panties in her gaping, but filled, mouth. Rough rope held her legs open and circled her large maltreated breasts. The head of a brush showed where the handle had been savagely pushed into her ass and needle marks punctuated her arm with blood.

Crystal stood a moment, in shock at the picture of degraded womanhood that lay at her feet. This was, in crude terms, what she had intended for Millicent, but to see it like this provoked outrage!

She bent and undid the belt.

A lump of cloth fell from Millicent’s open lips to the piss soaked floor. She looked up, one eye almost closed by a massive bruise, and tried to smile.

“Kenny,” she said.

“Your boyfriend?”

"And his buddy, Jimmy…”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!”

Using a kitchen knife, Crystal freed Millicent from the ropes and draped a dressing gown over her battered body and the two of them made their way to the taxi waiting outside.

Millicent sat bolt upright in the back seat, tears in her eyes, silent but wracked by sobs as the taxi took them to Crystal’s house on South Indian River Drive.


Crystal helped Millicent to the huge bathroom where, amidst steam and soft soap some of the past was washed off. Crystal made a coffee and poured two brandies before heading back to see how her abused secretary was managing.

The door was open, showing the figure of the naked woman just standing under the flood of hot water like a mature nymph in the pool of a waterfall. Crystal stripped off her clothes and joined the woman that she had intended to enslave.

Somehow, she had moved from that thought and felt genuine distress at Millicent’s treatment. She took a bar of soap and gently washed Millicent. Her fingertips coursed over the marks of beatings and the pricks of the needles. The palms of her hand soothed Millicent, contact healed some of the invisible wounds.

The soap was soft and the lather eased Crystal’s hands as she massaged and stroked Millicent. She touched those wracked breasts. Stroked those cut nipples. Her hands soothed an ass that had been belt whipped, it slid into the violated crease and soothed away some of the pain of anal rape.

Millicent just stood and soaked in the attentions of her boss. The woman who seemed so distant became a paradox to Millicent. The contrast of the assault of the two drug crazed men contrasted to the attentions of this mature woman who seemed to know that she could not speak, yet. That she could do no more than bathe in the steaming water, smooth lather and gentle hands of this woman who had saved her from a wet grave in the everglades.


*** Crystal Maze.

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The interview with the police consisted of filling in a number of forms and signing them. The inspector seemed distant and that attitude was confirmed when he told her that there was little chance of finding the thieves.

“Probably addicts needing money for their next fix,” he commented as he showed her out of the office. “When we know more I’ll contact you again, but there are three hundred unsolved such crimes on my desk and I expect to solve fifty and have perhaps another fifty solved by confessions. For the rest there is insurance!”

So Crystal headed home to her new hobby. The broken Millicent.

Forming in her head was a plan that went beyond making her secretary a slave. The idea was seeded by their contact in the shower. It flowered in her head as she supervised the cleaners and decorators who were to put her office to rights.

The idea matured as she headed for home.

What she really needed was a confederate. A sister who she could play her games with! Crystal needed a partner in crime and the vulnerable Millicent would be ideal. She was erotic when exposed; she was ready to be bent to her mistress’ will. She was in shock and she had lost the man who she had dedicated so much effort to winning.

Like a piece of wood in the steam cabinet, Crystal reckoned that she could bend Millicent to a new form, and that form would stay once the heat and steam faded.

Her idea was to create Millicent in her own twisted image.

A man hating, sexually motivated dominatrix.

A weapon in her mistress’ armoury.

A friend, a sister a lover.

A beholden bitch!


“Five times, or maybe only four,” said Millicent. “I couldn’t tell any more, it just hurt!”

Millicent was recounting the rape to Crystal. She had not asked why Crystal had not called the police. She had not asked why Crystal had appeared at her apartment. She had asked no questions, she just recounted the experience of the last two days to her new friend, her saviour, in a calm and bitter tone.

“It was the crystal meth,” she continued. “It has destroyed Kenny once, three years ago, now it will take him the rest of the way.”

“It’s not the drug,” said Crystal, “It’s in him. He is a delinquent, a thief and a rapist. We could tip off the police, since I’ll bet that it was Kenny and Jimmy that wrecked my office.”

“I know that it was.”

Where do you think that they are now?”

Millicent looked around as if expecting to see them appear any moment in Crystal’s front room.

“Jimmy said that they would rob your house and your office!”

“If they come around here then they are making a huge mistake,” said Crystal in a firm tone. “By now they will be far away off their faces on booze and meth.”

Millicent almost smiled.

Crystal could see that she was adjusting to the events of the past days. The time where she could begin Millicent on the path that she had determined was a window that was slowly closing.

“Come with me,” said Crystal gently. “I want to show you something.”

She took Millicent by the hand and led her up the broad stairs to the bedroom.

“I just want to tell you something that you need to know about me.”

Millicent stopped on the stairs and turned to face Crystal.

“I know about you, Crystal. You are the woman who saved me.”

It seemed so strange to call her boss by her first name in this intimate moment. Almost as though it was a forbidden word. ‘Crystal’. She held out a hand and touched Crystal’s cheek in affection.

Crystal turned her head slightly and kissed those fingers.

“I need you, Millie. It was coincidence that I came to your apartment yesterday, but I almost feel as though it was meant to be!”

Millicent did not withdraw her hand she allowed the lips to kiss her fingers and felt so grateful inside. Grateful and fondness. Maybe passion. One of her fingers slipped between those pink lips, it felt a tongue, it felt good.

“We should do what we feel the need for,” said Crystal as she put an arm around her new lover and guided her to the bedroom. “I so need to soothe you, heal all that hurt.”

“Is it for you as well as for me?

“Yes. For me. I need this so much. I get what I want, always!”

“I know that you do. Be gentle with me! I am so tender…”


*** Crystal Hard. (Pt 1.)


The man in the leather jacket stood casually, leaning on the corner of the wall, watching a doorway. Waiting for it to open. The fifth cigarette that he had smoked whilst on this watch burned low and then joined the others on the pavement.

Even though this was a dangerous neighbourhood, with whores, thieves and drug addicts trolling the streets during the daytime, he was not worried. Any fool that dared to challenge him with fists or knife would quickly find himself in trouble. Somehow this self-assurance communicated to those who normally did not allow others to trample their territory and he was left to smoke in peace.

The door opened and his frame stiffened slightly and then relaxed as he realised that his quarry was not the man who was leaving the building. Muttering about the way that criminals, lawyers and sluts always made a man wait, he lit another cigarette.

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