3 comments/ 5012 views/ 15 favorites Detective Sara Delaney By: HeyAll Part 1 of 3: Richard Burrwell When the phone awoke Sara at 7:02 am on a Saturday morning, she had no idea that one of the most difficult days of her life was about to begin. She didn't bother to check the caller ID when she answered the call. "This better be important," she said to whoever was calling. "Is this Detective Delaney?" a man asked with a thick British accent. "Speaking." "You don't know me. But I know you. And I need your help." The message was enough to fully awake the half-asleep detective. She sat upright in her bed and paid full attention. "Who is this?" she asked, this time treating the call seriously. "My name is Richard Burrwell. You may have heard of me." Burrwell was a man who's appeared on the local television and newspapers a few times. Many loved him. Others hated him. He was a wealthy middle aged British man who's made a fortune in real estate, using very questionable ethics in the process. "The name rings a bell," she replied. "Good, because I have a job for you. Only for you. Not the department." "Sorry. I don't do private work." "I can pay you a lot of money," he said. "Mr. Burrwell, I don't do private work." "Well, I don't think you fully understand the gravity of the situation. My wife's been taken from me. And I think you're the only person who can help, given the nature of your recent investigations." It only took a split-second before Sara made the connection in her head. Her division had been going after a highly secretive occult. They made progress and had a few strong leads, but ultimately, they didn't have enough hard evidence to bring charges that would hold up in court. The occult was a sex based group that focused on their own religious beliefs. It was believed that they brought themselves to drug induced states and engaged in bizarre sexual practices. It was also believed that the occult used mind control or hypnosis on its members, but none of that could be proved. All those months of investigation seemed to go down the drain, but now, she might have a new lead in regards to the occult. Sara wondered how a man like Richard Burrwell knew about her affairs in the police department, and how he obtained her home phone number. But then again, she'd rather not know. "I'm listening," Sara said. "I can tell by the sound in your voice that you actually believe me." "You seem to know a lot about me already," she replied. "So, if you want to talk, let's talk." "It's quite a long story, detective. Perhaps we should meet in person to discuss this. Would you mind?" "I love long stories." "Good. Have you got a few hours of time?" "I've got all day," the detective replied. As it turned out, Mr. Burrwell knew Sara's home address as well, which wasn't entirely surprising anymore. They made plans for someone to come pick her up soon. When the call ended, she sat on the side of the bed and rubbed her face. Like many good detectives, Sara relied on her gut instincts. She was fairly young for a detective, but she had plenty of experience dealing with shady characters. And her gut instinct was telling her that Richard Burrwell was telling the truth. There was a shakiness in the man's voice. A man like that was normally beaming with confidence and pride. But on the phone, Sara knew he was trying to mask his own fears. Another thing that her instincts told her was that she was going to have to bend the rules. Plenty of shady figures want to go to the police but have their identities protected. It was understandable too. No one involved with crime would want to be associated with law enforcement. It was simply bad for business. But this was different. A man like Burrwell wasn't a low level figure or a thug. He was a powerful man. And if he was going straight to a detective, and not the police department, then there must have been something scandalous going on. Sara was no stranger to bending the rules. She was good at covering her tracks. Her philosophy was; whatever it takes. After spending years as a street cop, she was sick of watching criminals getting away on technicalities and loopholes. After a brief sigh, she removed her tshirt and stripped away the rest of her clothes, tossing them in the laundry bin. She went to the bathroom naked. Her mind was preparing for a long day, but first, she needed a hot shower. *** Nearly an hour later. The detective had been given a chauffeured ride to the manor of Richard Burrwell. It was a large beautiful home as expected. For her part, Sara Delaney dressed in tight blue jeans, boots, and a sleek leather jacket. It was a typical outfit for her when she was off-duty. And her visit to Burrwell was very off-duty. The entrance to the manor opened and Richard stood by the door. He looked much older than Sara had remembered seeing in the news. But he did look fairly fit for his age, as he stood casually dressed for the meeting. When Sara walked up the steps, they greeted each other with a formal handshake. "It's a pleasure," he said. "Likewise." "Come. Breakfast is waiting." They had a private breakfast in the backyard of the estate. There were brief moments of silence as Sara could tell that the man was still finding the words to say. Judging by the look on his face, there was a lot on his mind. She was careful not to rush things. After all, she knew that Mr. Burrwell was entangled in something nasty, and that he wanted to approach things in a delicate way. Otherwise, he would have gone directly to the police instead of contacting her privately. "Have you ever been in love?" he asked. "I have." "Well, I love my wife very much. Her name is Margaret. We've been together for more than 20 years. We came to this country together nearly a decade ago. She's the absolute love of my life." "And now she's in trouble." "Yes," he said with a slow regretful nod. "What can you tell me about the people that've taken her?" "They can be ruthless at times," he replied. "I've heard stories of what's happened to people who attempt to disavow them." "I'm assuming we're talking about the occult group. Why join?" Mr. Burrwell gave a half smile. "Like most powerful men, sex has always been my vice. I've always been in search of the latest pleasures and thrills. Now it's become my undoing. When I first got involved with these people, I thought it was heaven. They had everything a man like myself could ever want." Sara gave him a reassuring look. It was a look of understanding and sympathy. But really, it was an interview technique. She wanted the man to feel relaxed so that he would be more comfortable talking. She had always been a natural at interrogations & interviews, and now more than ever, she needed those skills to help people who desperately needed help. "Does this group have a name?" "Not to my knowledge." "How did your wife become involved in this?" she asked. "It was my fault entirely. Margaret eventually found out about my habits. You see, she's very good at keeping track of me. She pleaded with me to stop going, but I couldn't. Instead, I begged her to join me. It was all part of my fantasy, I suppose, seeing her getting ravished by other men, or women. Now she's been indoctrinated by these people." "What have they done to her? Is the process reversible?" "It seems they've drugged her out of her mind. It can be reversed. I have the antidote. I have other connections and resources, so I know what I'm talking about." Sara nodded. "If we work fast, I can get a warrant and put a small team together. Taking them down shouldn't be a problem if we have all the necessary pieces in place." "I don't think you understand," Mr. Burrwell said. "I can't go to the police. Not yet, anyway. These people know things about me which could ruin my life. I could be jailed." "Are they blackmailing you?" "Not at all. It's just leverage. They always find leverage over people. It's their insurance policy. If they find out I've turned against them, they'll destroy me, simple as that." It was a situation Sara was very familiar with. And she knew she needed to tread carefully since the man in front of her seemed to be the only key to bringing down the occult. She tried to sympathize. More importantly, she tried to figure out other ways to get a warrant without the direct involvement of Mr. Burrwell. "What have they done with your wife?" Sara asked. "Has she been kidnapped? Are they holding her for ransom?" He shook his head. "Not quite. They've filled her head with nonsense. She's run away from me. But she says she will return soon. When I spoke to her on the phone, it didn't sound like her at all. It was her voice, but it wasn't her speaking." Sara nodded. "Tell me, Mr. Burrwell, has your wife attempted to convince you to return to the sex group?" "I think you already know that the answer is yes. She's been indoctrinated. And they're trying to do the same to me." There was a sudden shift in the mood between them. Suddenly, things became frank and out in the open. They had gotten straight to the point. "We've been trying to penetrate this group for some time," Sara said. "But we've never had any success." "Of course not. I guarantee you that they can beat any lie detector test. That's because they believe their own lies." "I'm assuming you have a plan," she said. "I do," he replied, with a thick British accent. "But first, I have to ask, what's the furthest you've ever pushed your sexuality?" Sara raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why that's any of your business." "It's relevant to my plan. You're a very attractive woman, Detective. How far are you willing to push your body to obtain a goal?" It was a question which Sara had never been asked before. And one she never considered. No one in the police department would have ever asked her a question like that, because they knew they would get punched square in the face. But the way Richard Burrwell asked, it was for a good reason. "I don't have an answer to that," she replied honestly. "You better find the answer. And soon. The window of opportunity is tonight." "And if we don't?" "Then maybe we'll have to wait for weeks. Maybe months. By then, my wife will be gone. These people have their gatherings at sporadic times." Sara gave him a hard look. "Mr. Burrwell, from this point forward, I'll need your full cooperation and honesty. Okay?" "Okay," he nodded. "Tell me your plan. It better be good." "We'll go together," he said. "I'll take you with me. Help me get my wife out. We can save her. Then, do whatever the hell you want with your police." Sara leaned back in her chair and thought. It was supposed to be a simple day. She had wanted to go for a long jog in the park. She had wanted to buy presents for her nieces. But suddenly, all of that was out of the question, and she was facing a job she wasn't prepared for. "With your money, you can hire anyone," she pointed out. "Why me?" "Your beauty. This group won't be able to resist the allure of someone like you. And because of your work ethic. I've read all your files. I understand your mind. I know you won't be able to refuse a chance like this." "Actually, you're wrong. I don't know if I can do this. I'm sorry Mr. Burrwell, without the police, I can't do it." "I will get you evidence." Now Sara was interested. "Explain." "I'm the king of real estate in this city," he explained. "I know people. I have connections. Bank documents, tax information, transactions, contracts, I can get them for you. I will also give you cash. Lots of it. You will be a rich woman overnight, and your career will reach new heights. Don't be a fool, detective. Take this deal and help me." It was an offer which changed everything. Sara wasn't a greedy person. But she was practical. And she was tired of coming up empty handed against people who belong in prison. She became a police officer to make a difference, not to waste her time building cases that would never go to court. "I won't take your money, for ethical reasons," she said. "But I'll help you with this. I also want all the evidence you can provide." "Follow me." *** The went inside the large manor and in to a private room. There were pictures of symbols and rituals. They were images which Sara was familiar with during the course of her investigation towards the group. "They claim to have a link with spiritual beings," he said. "Did you ever believe that?" "Frankly, I never cared. It was only the sex I was interested in. But this group believes in everything they do and say. They believe in their cause and practices. That's what makes them so dangerous." "Do you think it has anything to do with the particular drugs they use." He nodded. "Yes, I believe so. And I have the antidote to their drug, if my source is to be trusted." "That doesn't sound very convincing," Sara replied. "I'm sorry, detective, but that's the best I can offer." "An untested antidote to counter their drug?" "It should work. If not, the effects of their drug should wear off. They won't attempt to hypnotize you or control your mind until later." Richard Burrwell opened a cabinet and took out a small box, which he placed on the table. He opened the small box, which contained several syringes that were filled with a clear liquid substance. "Here it is," he said, holding up a needle. "This should provide you with a layer of protection from their drug. At least, it should allow you to have a clear mind so you can operate effectively. I can't guarantee the potency." "Do they give their drugs to everyone who enters their gatherings?" "Yes. They give you a sexual stimulant to enhance the experience. It's why I hadn't been able to stop going. The drugs, the women, the sex. It was all too alluring for a man like myself." The gravity of the situation was fully sinking in. Sara was being offered a chance to infiltrate the sex club, but in doing so, she would be exposing herself to a series of sexual situations. She had a vague understanding of the sex club: The mass nudity, the orgies, the group encounters, the bondage, the dominance & submission. Going undercover was something Sara Delaney had done many times in her career. There was no question that she was great at it. She had the nerves and the quick wit for that sort of job, which was why she was able to climb the ranks so fast. As a former Vice detective going undercover, posing as hooker most of the time, she helped the department to make some major arrests. Now, she was being asked to cross a line that no police woman should ever cross. She was so focused on the task that she hadn't noticed that Mr. Burrwell had walked to the other side of the room and looked at photos on the wall. "If you want to decline, I can understand," he said, looking at the photo of him and his wife. "But this will get done no matter what." She noticed that the strength & confidence of the man was slowly eroding. What was left was a vulnerable human being. "I'll help you," she said softly, almost in a whisper. Mr. Burrwell turned to look at her. "Thank you." Part 2 of 3: Detective Sara Delaney At the request of the detective, assistants for Mr. Burrwell went out and purchased all the necessities she'd need for that night. That included; hair dye, an assortment of cosmetic products, heels, and a beautiful black dress. Sara Delaney grew up as a tomboy. Her dad was a cop, and so were two of her uncles. Maybe that's why she always acted like a hardened woman. She might have learned it. Or perhaps it was in her genes and she was always meant to be a cop. It was always the dangerous assignment that made Sara reflect on her life. All those 'what ifs.' Life could have been totally different if she had made different choices. If she had listened to her mother, maybe she'd be a housewife by now, raising kids and staying home all day. Instead, she was naked in Mr. Burrwell's guest bathroom, drying her freshly dyed hair. In order for the operation to work, she needed to look the part. And god forbid anyone at the sex party would recognize her, or at any point in the future. No, she needed a new appearance for the night. Thankfully, she knew exactly what to do, and how to do it. It was the benefit of growing up with a fashionable older sister. Sara knew how to doll herself up and make herself look glamorous. It was something she hated doing. Especially working enforcement. Attractive women don't get respect. And Sara was already a natural beauty. She usually tried her best to downplay her looks by not wearing much make-up and keeping her hair in a simple ponytail. All of that changed as Sara applied the expensive beauty products to her face. The stuff must have easily been worth a few hundred dollars. It was 2:17 pm, and Sara slipped on the black dress, admiring her appearance in the mirror. The results were a major transformation. Her hair was down and it was dyed a totally different color. The beauty products brought out her best facial features and made her look like a model. The sleek dress showcased her toned figure. Not bad for a cop, she thought, looking in the mirror. Not bad at all. She looked gorgeous. And she knew it. *** She finally stepped out of the bathroom where Mr. Burrwell had been waiting patiently. He was sitting on a chair thinking, when his attention immediately turned towards the new appearance of the detective. He stood and marveled as he approached her. "How do I look?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "Simply ravishing," he admired. "Under any other circumstance, I would have purchased you for the night. Then my wife and I would gladly share you. Taking turns with you. Who knows, it can still happen if you're willing." "I'm not for sale." "That's too bad. With your beauty & attitude, you could make a lot of money. It's certainly a lot safer than your current occupation." "Obviously," she replied. "But I'd rather do something meaningful with my life. You know, helping people, like your wife." "Yes, of course, and I greatly appreciate this. I can assure you, that once this is finished, I will always be indebted to you." "We have to worry about getting your wife back first. And bringing these people down." He nodded. "In order to do that, we'll have to be prepared. Rather, you'll have to be prepared." "Anything in mind?" "Tell me, Detective Delaney, are you a submissive woman?" "What do you think?" He looked her over. "I think you prefer being the dominant. Whether in your professional life or in the bedroom. But I also think there's another side to you. A sexual side which you like to keep repressed to maintain your 'tough girl' image. Maybe you're open to surrendering your sexual power if the situation is right for it." "You're not far off," she acknowledged. "Have you been the submissive before?" "Sure. I won't go into detail, but you're right." "And how did you enjoy the power exchange?" "I hated every second of it," she replied. "But maybe it was with the wrong person. Being treated like a sex toy isn't my thing. But like you said, I keep an open mind." Mr. Burrwell gave a slow understanding nod. "Dominance and submission is an art. And believe me, the place we're going tonight, the people we're dealing with, they're experts at it. That's why they have so many loyal members. Their world is sex. And they are the gods." Mr. Burrwell put his hands on the detective's bare shoulders. "I can't possibly thank you enough. However, this is very dangerous, as you are aware. If you want to pull out, I will understand. And I will pay for your time today." "I guess you don't know me very well." Detective Sara Delaney "Why is that?" "I'm not a quitter," she replied staunchly. "I've been after these people for months. If this is what I have to do, then I'll do it. And I won't have any regrets." He smiled, "I knew I found the right woman. Thank you Detective Delaney. Now let's go over the plan, shall we?" They spent the next few hours discussing the details of the plan, the inner workings of the occult, and everything that should be expected. The more Sara heard, the more she began to question herself, but her resolve was strong. She was used to dealing with organized crime and bad men. But this was something else entirely. Richard Burrwell was right. They were about to enter the world of sex. And the occult were the gods. It was something Sara had never encountered in her career. And something she had never been trained for in the police academy. Worse, she didn't have any of her colleagues backing her up. This was a solo mission for the most part. Even though Mr. Burrwell would be accompanying her, she would have to do things alone. The occult liked to separate new members and test them in any way possible. Sara didn't know exactly what would be in store for her. Would they ask her a series of questions? Sara had strong nerves and she was good at lying. That's why she was so successful as a former undercover vice agent. Being asked a series of probative questions wouldn't be a problem at all. Would they get her naked? Sara had been warned of the nudity at the occult gatherings. She was warned that many of the members roamed nude. Often times it was required. Sometimes not. In case she had to get naked, she was ready. Sara had a great body and she was proud of it (thanks to her vigorous workout routine). Besides, with her dyed hair and heavy make-up, no one would ever recognize her. Mr. Burrwell would never tell anyone about it, and if he did, Sara would be willing to break his jaw with a single well-placed punch. Would they touch her? Sara was a woman with intimacy issues. She had always been open to that fact, even with past lovers and the police department psychologists. The theory was, she grew up around the crime trade since her family was enforcement, and she became hardened to the issues of life & death. So as a result, she always kept her guard and was careful with whoever she was intimate with. Would they try to fuck her? God forbid. Sara was perfectly fine walking around a bdsm orgy. But actually being fucked by them? That was unforgivable. And she still didn't have a plan to deal with a situation like that. She hated not having a plan. But in order to bring these people down, she needed to take the risk. When the time came, Mr. Burrwell gave the detective a necklace which had a small antidote hidden inside a piece of jewelry. "This is for my wife," he explained. "Open it. Put it inside her mouth. I don't care how you do it. Just do it." She nodded and wore the necklace. "It will be done." Next came the syringes, which was the counter-balance to the drugs the occult used on its members. "I can't promise how effective this will be," Mr. Burrwell said. "But at least it will provide you with some layer of protection. It should provide us with enough protection to keep our heads clear. You'll need to think. You'll need to use your wits, otherwise this will be pointless" Sara held out her arm and Mr. Burrwell injected her. Just then, Sara realized how close she had become with him. In a matter of hours, she grew to trust that man, enough to allow him to stick a needle in her arm, with god knows what was inside. It was probably the tense situation which brought them closer together. In the hours they spent together, he confided his secrets with Sara. And Sara confided her secrets with him. It was all for the sake of getting his wife back. Moments like these were what Sara lived for. She was able to do good without all the constraints of lawyers, courts, and bureaucrats. She loved the adrenaline rush and the thrill of danger. Any other time, Sara and Mr. Burrwell would never have crossed paths in life. If they did, they definitely wouldn't have liked each other. Sara was convinced that she would think of Burwell as an asshole under normal circumstances. As the syringe nearly finished injecting Sara with its fluids, Sara knew full well that this wasn't a normal circumstance. She was about to embark on the most dangerous assignment of her life. "Is your wife a good person?" she asked. He pulled the needle out of Sara's arm when it was done. Their eyes locked and there was a brief moment of silence. "Why are you asking me this now?" "I just want to hear the answer," she said. "Margaret could have any man she wants. I don't know why she chose me. Maybe I'll never know. This was before I had money. We used to be poor together. She always stood by me. To answer your question, detective, Margaret is an amazing person. I love her dearly. And I want her back." Sara nodded. "That's all I needed to hear." "Now, will you inject me?" Mr. Burrwell handed Sara a clean syringe. She took it. Then she returned the favor and injected him. *** The chauffeured car ride was mostly silent. There was nothing else to say. The plan was in place and they were intent on following through. Mr. Burrwell sat with a stone face. In that moment, Sara realized how badly she felt for him. Throughout Sara's law enforcement career, she had always remained as emotionally unattached as possible. Running on emotions could always lead to mistakes. This time, however, it all felt so personal. Richard Burrwell had spent the past few hours pouring his heart out over his dear wife. There was a genuine love there. There was no doubt about it. It was the kind of love Sara hoped to find someday for herself. Someday. Not yet. With her career and the perils of the job, she wasn't ready for a serious relationship. Her day dreaming came to an end when they reached the destination. It was a large manor in a remote area. The estate was massive and there were no signs of surrounding civilization. It was just a large manor surrounded by acres of grass, trees, and a single road. Their chauffeured car stopped in front of the manor. There were several other fancy cars parked. And based on the headlights coming from down the road, there would be more coming. Sara and Mr. Burrwell walked up the stairs towards the entrance together. They acted calm and relaxed, just as they had discussed. Two security guards immediately verified Burrwell's identity and they were allowed to enter. Burrwell thanked the men. They entered and Sara noted what appeared to be strange religious symbols painted on the door and walls. They were the exact symbols which Sara had seen in the police department during the course of their investigations. But now, seeing them displayed so brazenly in the manor, things felt uncomfortably real. Sara felt an unwelcomed rise in her heartbeat. She was getting nervous. She knew why. It was dangerous and risky. If she was smarter, she wouldn't have done it. But it was too late for that. She was inside the manor and there was no turning back. Other people were there waiting in the lobby. Rich older men in suits. And an array of beautiful young women in thin fancy dresses. It seemed to be every man's wildest fantasy come true. No wonder Mr. Burrwell was such an avid visitor, Sara thought. As the group waited in the lobby of the manor, a door opened. In walked a naked woman with a gold mask covering her face. Judging by her body, she must have been in her early 50's. She was flanked by other naked masked women who had the bodies of 20 year old fashion models. Physical perfection. The younger naked women held trays with small gold cups to drink from. The woman in the gold mask paced the room and looked at the guests. She was clearly the person in charge as she pointed to each person and waved them to which room they should enter. Most went down to the main hall, which Mr. Burrwell had said was where most of the excitement happened. But before any of them entered, they gladly took one of the small cups and drank its liquid content. According to Mr. Burrwell, the liquid was the famous drug of the occult. Then the masked woman stood in front of Burrwell and Sara. The detective felt her pulse rising at the most unfortunate time. Through sheer will, she did her very best to prevent her chest from pounding. She nearly held her breath in a good attempt to look as calm as possible. "A new guest?" the naked masked woman asked. "Yes, a beautiful friend," Mr. Burrwell replied. "Visitor or new member?" Mr. Burrwell gave a forced smile. "Visitor for the night." The masked woman snapped her fingers and a woman brought the tray over to them. Then the masked woman took a cup and handed it to Sara. "Drink," the masked woman told the detective, holding the cup. It was the moment of truth. Without hesitation, Sara took the small cup and poured the content down her throat. Mr. Burrwell's injection shot better have worked or else she would be in a lot of trouble. After drinking from the cup, Sara handed it back. The female servant took it and the masked woman simply stared Sara straight in the eyes without saying a word. The room felt like it was spinning. There were little spots of light all around. Sara's head and body felt light. Her muscles turned weak and she fell to the floor. Her breathing slowed. That was the moment Sara Delaney passed out. *** Who knows how much time had passed? Sara's eyes slowly opened and immediately she knew she was in a different room than before. It looked like a small library with old books on the shelves. No one else was around. There was a coldness against her skin. It was the coldness of the hard floor. She looked down and saw that she was completely naked. Her dress, undergarments, even her heels, had all been stripped away. God, damn it. Thankfully the antidote was still around her neck, disguised as jewelry. She got to her feet and made no attempt to hide her nudity with her hands. Why bother? Whoever had stripped her naked had already seen her body. And covering her naked parts would have only exposed her as an impostor. She had come too far to be exposed. The door opened and Sara felt a chill down her spine. She stood naked and kept her hands down as the naked woman in the gold mask entered. There was an undeniable tension as they came face-to-face. "How do you feel?" the masked woman asked. "Like I've just been knocked unconscious." "I gave you something mildly potent. Your mind should be clearing up soon. You've only been out for a few minutes." Sara nodded. "I'm starting to feel better." "So you're Richard's guest." "I am." "How do you know each other?" Sara looked in the eyes of the masked woman. The detective's mind was still slightly hazy from the drink, but she still remembered the cover story she had prepared to use. "I'm a stripper," Sara said. "I've danced for many years and I got a referral to dance for Richard and his wife Margaret at their home." "So why has he invited you here?" "Richard wants me to learn about this. He says he'll pay me extra money if, you know, I do extra stuff for him. You know, dom/sub stuff. I don't have any experience with that, so he brought me here. Hey, he's rich, so why not? Plus I could use the cash and it sounded pretty hot." The masked woman eyed the detective's naked body. "You certainly have the body for a dancer. I can see why Richard likes you." "Thanks, but I didn't come here to get drugged, or whatever the hell you put in that drink. I mean, waking up here, naked, that's some freaky shit lady. And it's creeping me out." "We can never be too careful. Besides, it's all part of the spiritual experience. We believe in new awakenings. The drink will help you see the light." The detective nodded and felt a strong sense of relief. The cover story seemed to work and she was a step closer to getting out of the room. "What happens now?" Sara asked. "Am I going to be locked in here all night like a slave?" "Not unless you want to," the masked woman said, smiling behind the mask. "I want to leave. You know, join the party. That's what I came here for. Not to get drugged and stripped naked while I'm unconscious." The masked woman stepped aside. "Consider this your initiation. It's an easy entrance compared to what most have to go through. But since you're with Richard, this will do." "Do I get my clothes back?" "There are no clothes in our gatherings. You may have your dress when you leave the premises." Shit. She would have to spend the rest of the night barefoot and naked. God knows how many people were at the gathering. And god forbid Richard Burrwell see her naked. The thought of Burrwell seeing her naked might have been the worst part for whatever reason. But she was mentally prepared. "No worries, I think it sounds like an interesting experience," Sara smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, Richard must be waiting for me." The masked woman gestured to the open door. As the detective walked towards the door, she noticed a slightly ominous look in the woman's eyes. It might have been suspicion. It might have been something else. Sara simply wasn't sure. "By the way," the masked woman added. "Today is your first time having our special drink. Enjoy it. I'm sure it will make your experience here more...memorable.." There was a subtle tone in the woman's voice. And Sara left the room to go find Richard Burrwell's wife. Part 3 of 3: Margaret Burrwell It was a sexual odyssey. The main hall of the manor was unrecognizable. The place of class and elegance had been overrun with sexual debauchery. It was exactly like Burrwell had described. Sex was everywhere. The most beautiful naked women. Men, who were mostly older and rich. People were having sex on the fancy tables and couches. There were no bounds. By Sara's estimate, there must have been at least 50 people in the hall alone (not including the people in the rooms). As she looked closer, and as her mind became clearer, the detective noticed the full extent of the sexual encounters. Some of the women were gagged and their wrists bound while they were being fucked. A woman was being painfully spanked with a paddle. In two cases, men were being sodomized by strap-on wielding young women. Even more eye-catching, there were strange religious symbol on the walls. Strange flags too. It was unlike any of the evidence Sara had ever examined regarding the occult group. Some of the women also had the strange religious symbols painted on their naked bodies or on their faces. Panic set in when Sara felt powerful emotions coming over her. Maybe Burrwell's counter-drug wasn't so powerful after all? Maybe the occult was using a new drug tonight? Maybe, god forbid, this was a trap? It couldn't have been a trap, she thought. Her instincts were able to read Burrwell, and he was telling the truth. But what if her instincts were wrong? Burrwell himself spoke of mind control, so maybe Burrwell himself was a victim? Whatever the case, Sara felt a sudden surge coming over her. Her pussy was wet and she was so very aroused. She prayed that Burrwell's counter-drug would at least provide her with a clear mind. After coming this far, she refused to fail, assuming this wasn't a trap. She continued her slow journey down the main hall. Her movement felt heavy since she was so aroused. She was afraid her pussy might drip fluids onto the floor. With each step, she looked at the different faces of the women, hoping one of them was Margaret. No success so far. She hadn't yet recognize the woman she was there to help. There were only strange faces. Until... Oh god. The deputy mayor of the city. A state senator. A police sergeant. Sara's memory was photographic. But since she had been unconscious a few moments ago, it took some time for her mind to work. She noticed prominent figures there, and others within the police department. Oh god. At the very least, Sara was glad that those people would never recognize her. Not with her dyed hair, heavy amount of make-up, and her naked body on display. There was no way they could recognize her on the street. Besides, they were all busy having intense sex sessions. The good news was, this couldn't have been a trap, she concluded. If Mr. Burrwell was trying to set her up in some way, he wouldn't have taken her to a place where she would discover government corruption. No. Sara was there (at Burrwell's direction) to bring down the occult, once and for all. But in doing so, Sara would also be bringing down a lot of prominent figures, putting herself at great risk in the process. Oh god. As the heavy feeling sunk in, Sara felt a soft woman's hand on her shoulder, touching her from behind. She turned around and saw the masked woman again. Sara did her best to lighten the expression on her face. "Enjoying yourself so far?" the masked woman asked. Sara smiled, "My goodness, I've never seen anything like this before in my life." "I can tell." "Oh?" "You seem tense," the masked woman said. "But I can tell you're utterly aroused by the way you're moving and observing the place." Sara winked and touched her pussy. "There's only so much a girl can take. Can you blame me?" "Of course not. By all means, enjoy yourself. Especially in this environment. Speaking of which, I don't think it's fair that you can join our private party without a proper initiation." "But you said..." "I've changed my mind," the masked woman said firmly. "Everyone should get initiated. We live by rules here." Sara gulped and tried to remain calm. "What do I have to do?" "Pick 3 people. 2 women. 1 man. Anyone here." "Are they going to fuck me?" "Do you want them to?" the masked woman asked with a slightly cheeky tone of voice. "With all do respect, I'm picky. I mean, I've never done this sort of thing before. I'm just a dancer who wants to make extra money." "Very well. No penetration. But there will be plenty of touching and bodily contact. Plenty of orgasms, most importantly of all." The thought of strangers playing with Sara's body and making her orgasm sent a cold shiver down her spine. It also made her pussy twitch. "Do I have to?" she asked in a ditsy tone. "Accept the initiation or leave. That is the choice." Everything had boiled down to this. Sara Delaney had already come this far and done so much. And with the drug flowing inside of her veins, lust in her heart, she was ready for any kind of sexual satisfaction. And from anybody. "Sure, fine," Sara said, like it wasn't a big deal. "I'll do it." "Then pick." Sara's eyes scanned the room. It was difficult to chose when so many things were happening. There were so many beautiful women. More women came in & out of the hall. Some offering their sexual services. Others were helping to host the sexual gathering by providing towels, more drugs, and drinks. Finally, Sara pointed to a beautiful young woman who was walking down the hall providing towels. At least she hadn't been fucked yet, Sara thought. "Very nice choice," the masked woman said. "Now a man." Sara's eyes scanned the room. She was hoping for a semi-decent looking man who hadn't had sex yet. She didn't want another woman's sloppy seconds. Finally, she saw someone who had just arrived to the party. "Him," Sara pointed. "Another excellent choice. Now a female." Sara scanned the room for a final time, when she saw someone that made her freeze for a moment. It was Margaret Burrwell, the woman Sara came to help. The woman who was the reason for the detective's fateful involvement. Detective Sara Delaney It was a surreal sight too. Sara had only seen photographs of Margaret dressed in proper clothing. Margaret was a woman of extreme class & elegance. Now, things were different. Margaret was completely naked, her body plump, voluptuous, and aged. Large breasts hanging free. And there were the religious markings painted on her forehead. "I chose her," Sara pointed out. The masked woman snapped her fingers, then two female assistance came. The masked woman pointed to the three people Sara had selected, and the assistance went to summon them. "Now we're going to find out what kind of person you truly are," the masked woman said. "The ropes never lie." With that, they were headed to a private room. Sara considered running, but it was too late. She was already in deep cover. *** It was a potent mixture of Fear & Lust. Fear because she was in the unknown. Would they be gentle with her? Would they hurt her? Had Mr. Burrwell betrayed her and revealed her identity? God forbid, would they rape her? Lust was also a factor. The occult's drug was clearly working. Her pussy was wet and her body desperately wanted sex. She wanted to be taken and ravished hard. Who knows, maybe it could have been worse without Mr. Burrwell's counter-drug? At that moment, Sara didn't know what to think. All she knew was that her hands & wrists were being tied to the bedposts by the 3 people she had chosen. It was a fancy bedroom. Much like a five-star hotel. The walls were wooden and brown. There was an elegance to the place. Old paintings. Antique lamps and ornaments. And then there were the occult symbols on the walls. Sara felt the ropes tighten around her wrists as they were tied to the bedposts. The same feeling on her ankles. Her ankles were tightly bound, legs spread eagled, as she was tied to the lower bed frame. And there she was: Detective Sara Delaney, naked, bound, spread eagled in a room full of 3 naked strangers and a masked woman, waiting for what was to come. "Why are you here?" the masked woman asked. "I've told you already," Sara pleaded. The masked woman wasn't entirely convinced. As Sara looked down, she saw the masked woman holding a black leather crop in an intimidated way, like it would soon be used to inflict pain. And Sara was right. The masked woman used the tip of the leather crop to spread Sara's labia open. The right side, then the left. She took a good look in between Sara's labia. "You're wet," the masked woman noted. "I've told you the truth." "Are you?" the masked woman asked. "Are you interested in our group? Do you like what you've seen? Are you interested in joining?" Think fast Sara, she thought. "Yes, I am. That's why I came. I was interested in what Richard told me. And when I saw what was happening here I was so aroused. Something came over me which I've never felt before. Just...please...don't hurt me. Please." The pleading and story seemed to have worked. The masked woman paused and appeared to think for a moment. "Very well. You'll need to be initiated. Would you like that? Or shall we give you your dress back and send you home?" The smart thing would be to leave. But Sara was already in the same room as Margaret Burrwell. The job was almost done. And Sara hated failure. Besides, there was an aching feeling in her pussy. The drug. Oh god, the drug. It had a profound effect on her. If she did this, she could complete her job and be relieved of the aching between her legs. "I want to stay and be initiated," Sara said, closing her eyes and resting her head on the pillow, accepting her fate. "You have so much potential here. I really believe that." The masked woman snapped her fingers. Sara had no idea what was happening. Her eyes were closed and she felt a sense of shame over allowing this to happen to her. That's when she felt it. The hands. The hands had descended all over her body and touched her most intimate areas. She felt the hands rubbing her breasts, nipples, stomach, across her legs, and her pussy. Oh god, not there. She felt a soft womanly hand touching her pussy. Whoever touched her pussy knew how aroused she was. The hand must have been wet now. Sara opened her eyes and saw Margaret Burrwell. She was the one who had just felt Sara's wetness. It was a bizarre feeling. Sara came all this way to rescue Margaret. Now Sara was naked and bound, having her pussy rubbed by that very woman. Sara could do nothing but give in. She allowed herself to enjoy it without feeling guilty, or at least she tried not to feel guilty for allowing her body to be used this way. The hands felt good. No one was hurting her. The group had clearly done this before. The hands were massaging and soothing. "I think she's ready," the masked woman said. "Step aside." Ready for what? Oh god. The small group stepped aside and the masked woman approached the helpless detective. Sara knew what was going to happen. The masked woman waved the leather riding crop, deliberating a target. The masked woman took her sweet time, creating more anxiety in the process. Finally, the first strike came. Sara was hit on her left breast by the riding crop and she flinched. "Did that hurt?" the masked woman asked with an unsympathetic tone. "No." "You're tougher than you look. Such beautiful breasts too. Let's see how much you can actually take, shall we?" The riding crop struck Sara's left breast again, this time, it came closer to her sensitive nipple, which was stiff from arousal. More slapping strikes came. Each hit got closer and closer to Sara's stiff nipple. Finally, when Sara's nipple was struck by the riding crop, her body flinched and the muscles in her arms jerked the bondage ropes. She refused to scream though. She gritted her teeth. She refused to show weakness. The sexual torture moved to Sara's right breast. The same process was repeated. The riding crop stung Sara's breasts, getting closer and closer to her stiff nipple, before torturing her sensitive erogenous zone. Sara had sensitive nipples. They were her pleasure spots. It was easy to figure out given their length and stiffness. And that was exactly why the masked woman took her time whipping them with the leather crop. The masked woman ended the torture and used the riding crop to rub Sara's arms, which had been fully flexed trying to pull the ropes. "You're a strong girl," the masked woman said, admiring Sara's body. "Such beautiful strong arms. Such perky breasts. Lovely nipples. They'll be sore for a while, dear. Your breasts have turned red. Are you ready for the next step in the initiation? Or do you want to go home?" Another crossroad for the detective. She couldn't leave when she was so close. And not when she felt so much pleasure from the submissive experience. "I want to continue," she said with a slightly trembling voice. "Excellent. You said you were a dancer, correct?" Sara nodded. "Well, dancers have strong legs. I want to see if you're lying or not. We don't tolerate lies here. Do you understand? If you're really a dancer, then your legs will show it." The masked woman snapped her fingers and pointed to the young naked woman, then she gestured to Sara's legs. The young woman must have done this before because she didn't need any further instructions. She knew exactly what to do, getting on the bed, in between Sara's spread-eagled legs, then orally attacking her wet vulnerable pussy. Sara groaned loudly as the young woman ate her pussy. It was Sara's first lesbian experience. And it felt amazing. The tongue, lips, and mouth were all expertly trained. With the drug flowing through her body, Sara was in a hypersexual state. Her pussy was wet and it only got wetter. Her heart pounded. As Sara got her pussy eaten, she wondered about the young woman. Who was she? What was her story? Did she enjoy doing this? Sara figured the young woman was in her early 20's. By the feel of things, the young woman had done this plenty of times. It seemed although she loved doing it, as Sara heard the woman moaning a few times while enthusiastically sucking her pussy. That only made Sara much more aroused. An orgasm was building and Sara's muscles tensed. Her legs stiffened and tugged on the ropes which bound her ankles. "Impressive," the masked woman said, tracing her fingers along the muscle lines of Sara's thigh. "You really do have the legs of a dancer. I'm impressed. The shape is beautiful." The masked woman ran her fingers down Sara's leg and rested her hand on Sara's toes. Then she snapped her fingers. The other people in the room approached the helpless detective and rubbed her delicate & sore breasts. "Time to cum," the masked woman said. "It's part of the initiation." Having an orgasm wasn't an issue. It didn't need to be faked. With the drug in her system, the hands rubbing her tits, and the hot mouth sucking her pussy, cumming would be easy. Sara's body tightened. Her arms & legs pulled the bondage ropes. Her toes curled, which the masked woman felt, since her hand was still on Sara's foot. She couldn't suppress the feeling and Sara cried out loud. With her busy life and stressful career, making time for sex was difficult. And finding great sex was even harder. It had been a long time since Sara felt an amazing orgasm. But in that moment, she felt something incredible. Her body felt completely overwhelmed. The pressure made her feel like she was about to burst. Fluids squirted from her pussy as she came. Sure, she had gushed a few times during an intense orgasm before. It's fairly common for women. But this was different. It was the first time Sara had actually squirted. She cried out loud as the fluids shot from her pussy and into the young woman's mouth. As she cried, the young woman swallowed everything and groaned in the process, as if she loved drinking those orgasmic fluids. When all the fluids were gone, Sara's body relaxed. Her muscles untightened and she breathed deep breathes. There were trickles of sweat on her forehead and chest. "Beautiful," the masked woman said. "You're closer to joining.." "You still don't trust me?" Sara asked, breathing heavy. "We have a rigorous screening process. However, in this case, we may have an easy solution. You said you danced for Richard & Margaret Burrwell, correct?" A fear crept up Sara's spine. "Yes." "Well thankfully, Mrs. Burrwell is in the room with us," the masked woman said, then turning towards Margaret. "So, is this true?" "It is,' Mrs. Burrwell lied. "She has danced for me and my husband." It was the first time that Sara had ever heard Margaret's voice. It was very proper and loving, with a thick British accent, just as Sara had expected. The masked woman gave a slow nod. "Very well. Since you two are formally acquainted, I think it's time for the next step of the initiation. You may proceed." Sara felt a huge wave of relief. Margaret Burrwell had lied on her behalf. But why? Maybe there was hope after all. But the problem was, what was the next step of the initiation? She found out the answer when she saw Margaret putting her foot on the bed. Then the other foot. Margaret stood on the bed where Sara was in a state of complete spread-eagle bondage. Then Margaret took a step closer, bringing her bare pussy closer to Sara's face. Then Margaret bent down. Her pussy inches away from Sara's mouth. "Have you ever tasted a woman before?" Margaret Burrwell asked in a proper British manner. Sara shook her head 'no.' "It's simple. I'll guide you." With that, Margaret lowered her body. Her pussy was surrounded by neatly trimmed pubic hairs. Her labia was heart shaped, thick, and brown. Her insides were pink. Sara had never tasted a pussy before. Sure, she had fantasized about it before. Most women have. She figured a lesbian experience would eventually happen in her lifetime, but never like this. As Margaret lowered her body, Sara opened her mouth. Her lips were pressed against the mature pussy. She did her very best to please the pussy. After all, it was part of Sara's initiation. She needed to do a good job and make Margaret cum, otherwise she would lose access to the place. Sara's tongue worked up & down. She did her best under the uncomfortable circumstance of bondage and a voluptuous woman basically sitting on her face. But Sara was resourceful and tough. She could manage anything. What helped was that she felt herself becoming aroused again. Was it the lingering effect of the drug? Or was she aroused from the extremely taboo sexual experience. She would never know. As she continued eating the pussy, Sara heard the masked woman snap her fingers. Maybe the masked woman saw that Sara's pussy was ready for more action? Whatever the case, as Sara ate the pussy, she felt the young woman massaging her breasts, then sucking on her sore nipples. God that felt good. She also felt the man sucking her wet pussy. Both of Sara's erogenous zones were being sucked- her pussy and her nipples. All while she was eating Margaret Burrwell's pussy, the woman she came here to save. It was all so bizarre. The event was hard to fathom. She tried her best to focus on the task at hand, which was to make Margaret cum. The room was filled with the sounds of oral sex. Sucking, licking, and kissing. The man fingered Sara's pussy as he ate her. He rubbed her sensitive clit. Sara was inching towards another orgasm. Her toes became stiff. "She's quite the orgasmic one," the masked woman said about Sara. "I like that about her. She'll fit right in." Sara had the second orgasm of the night. The last time Sara had two orgasms in a night was back in college, with a testosterone filled boyfriend. Now she felt it again. Her pussy was exhausted but it managed to squirt a little. A few trickles here and there. She couldn't scream or groan because her mouth was covered by Margaret's pussy. There was no time to enjoy the orgasm. Margaret was close. She smiled looking down at Sara. "I'm almost there my dear," Margaret said in a whisper. "Almost there. My goodness. It's coming." Margaret rubbed her clitoris and her back suddenly arched, her hair tossed to the side as her body jerked. A rush of fluids trickled down to Sara's mouth as she was helpless. Sara drank it. Oh god. It was her turn to drink a woman's orgasmic fluids. It had a distinctive taste. One that Sara would never forget. The taboo was surreal. Margret's body jerked a few times as she came. Then she moved away, her body slightly shivering. "Untie her," the masked woman said. The young woman untied Sara's ankles. The man untied Sara's wrists. Sara struggled for air. "Are we done?" "Not quite," the masked woman replied, gesturing towards the man's fully erect cock. "You want me to..." "Suck him off," the masked woman answered. "It's not polite to leave a man walking around with an erection." The young woman & man assisted Sara in sitting upright. Then the man guided his cock to Sara's lips. She opened her mouth and the cock slide right in. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, so she sucked powerfully. Oral sex was something Sara had always enjoyed giving. But she wanted to end this. Her pussy and body were already exhausted. Her jaw was tired from eating pussy. Her wrists & ankles had turned red from the tight bondage. Her tits were also red from the spanking. This was the final task before she would be free. So she sucked and bobbed on the cock. She even moaned too, because she knew that men loved hearing women moan while having their cocks sucked. She used both hands to caress his balls and stroke his shaft. She focused on her oral talents. She even swirled her tongue around the head of the cock while she sucked on it. The man started groaning. It was almost over. Sara stroked him furiously and he ejaculated several large loads of cum into her mouth. She stroked and stroked until nothing was left. The man felt deflated, then he moved away when his intense orgasm was done. The masked woman stood in front of Sara. Then Sara stuck out her tongue in a mocking manner, showing that her tongue was filled with the man's cum. In a single gulp, Sara closed her mouth and swallowed. "All gone," she said. "You're officially initiated. You're free to roam around as you please." The masked woman lifted the gold mask from her face. She was a mature looking woman. Beautiful. She smiled. What was so surprising was that she looked like a simple housewife. Not someone who'd run a powerful sex occult. The woman bent forward and kissed Sara full on the mouth. They tongue kissed. They swapped the traces of cum in Sara's mouth. It was Sara's first lesbian kiss. It was delightful. And it was with an occult leader. It was over when the woman pulled her lips away. The woman put her mask on and walked to the door and left. The young woman followed. So did the man. Margaret was leaving too. Not her. Sara thought. She had come too far and done too much. "Margaret, wait" Sara said. Margaret turned around. "Yes?" "Can you close the door? There's something I need to show you." Sara put her hand on the necklace which had the antidote inside. When Margaret closed the door and approached Sara, the detective grabbed her and pinned her down on the bed. Epilogue: Sara Delaney sat on a park bench. She was in a serene mood, which was rare. She felt a happiness watching the trees and people playing in the park. She day dreamed for a while. It made her feel young again. A nice relief from the stress of her job. A man sat next to her. That snapped her out of the day dream. She turned to see Mr. Burrwell, who placed a sports bag on the bench, right next to her. "I can't thank you enough," he said. "Don't bother. It's not necessary." "My wife is home. We've worked things out. I was afraid I lost her. But you. You saved her. We are forever in your debt." "The bag will do." Mr. Burrwell unzipped the bag. "It's all there. Documents. Evidence. All there. A nice surprise too." Sara looked inside to see a few large envelopes placed on top of stacks of cash. "Thank you." "I must say, I've heard a lot about what went on," Mr. Burrwell said. "In fact, my wife has invited you to our home, anytime you'd like. She still has fond memories. We can do anything for you." There was a clear innuendo in Burrwell's voice. Sara knew exactly what he meant and what the couple wanted. She thought about Margaret's naked body and the way her pussy tasted. She smiled, "You're a very lucky man, Mr. Burrwell." On that note, Detective Sara Delaney closed the bag and walked away. The End Your votes & comments are appreciated.