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“Carter & Lane: House of Horrors - Part 1”

The City - One Police Plaza.  Eighth Floor - FCU (Fetish Crimes Unit).  9:46PM.

“FUCK…what’s the connection?” said Detective Christina Carter to herself, as she sat in her cramped cubicle at the police station.  Her desk was scattered with various crime scene photos, witness descriptions, and assorted notes.  “Just pack it in babe,” said a patrolman walking through the office.  “No one gives too fucking shits about missing hookers, or whores that create fancy tales about being abducted and tortured.”  They’re just street trash…no one cares,” he continued.  “Good luck PLAYING cop, Carter…some of US actually have a REAL job to do out there, instead of playing detective for a bunch of freaks with your girlfriends.”  As he walked away, Christina flipped him the bird, her way of telling him to fuck off.

For eight months now she had been the head of the FCU, a division created to handle crimes that had fetish ties.  Unfortunately, the division wasn't given much respect from her fellow cops.  Fortunately, she had been able to convince her friends and fellow detectives Akira Lane and Tomiko to transfer into the division, which helped her tremendously.  Christina knew she was doing good work - standing up for the women that didn’t have a voice, and investigating crimes that otherwise would go unsolved and without justice.  She worked tirelessly to be the advocate for abused and missing women, which meant long hours in the office, and even longer hours out in the field.  But she was dedicated, and it was her calling, no matter what the other cops thought.  “FUCKERS,” she said in the direction of the patrolman as he walked out of sight.

Detective Carter realized the brass didn’t take her work, or the work of fellow detectives Lane and Tomiko, seriously.  That they thought she was just a pretty face…all body, no brains.  But they were wrong.  Sure, she was an incredibly striking and gorgeous woman.  5’7”, 130lbs, with piercing blue eyes and long, lustrous brown hair.  The face and body of an angel, she kept her massive size-D breasts hidden by a bra at all times, and wore conservative suits/skirts, as to give herself a professional demeanor.  But Christina wasn’t just a beautiful face and amazing body…oh no.  She was an incredibly smart, emotional woman, who impressed everyone she met with her quick analytical mind.

This night she was wearing a navy-color pants suit, with a white blouse, sheer suntan pantyhose, and 4-inch patent-leather high heels.  Her navy jacket hung on the cubicle wall, as she reclined in her black-leather office chair, propping her size-7.5 feet up on the desk.  “Eight hours in these heels,” she said to herself, as she removed her shoes, one at a time, stopping to massage her aching, tan pantyhose feet.  Looking at her toes, she said “maybe I should paint my nails black to match my mood right now,” as she rubbed her fire engine-red painted toes.  A dark red was always her favorite color, and she made sure to keep her nails painted all the time.  Just one of her quirky habits.

Christina took her feet off the desk and shifted in her chair, grabbing some photos off her desk.  “Same story each time.  Missing girls.  Usually high-end call girls.  The three-to-five thousand a night chicks,” she thought to herself.  “Always the same clue…a large manor house, with an underground room filled with bondage devices where the victims would be teased and tortured endlessly.  Blind-folded and drugged so never a description of the house or the perpetrator(s) doing this,” she continued.  “Victims always dumped in the middle of nowhere, unconscious, with a disposable track phone on their body to call for help once they wake up.  Never any homicides, only physical and emotional abuse.  Torture,” Christina continued, leaning back in her chair.  "I sure wish Akira & Tomi were here," she thought to herself.  "Just my luck, they decide to plan a trip together to Japan and visit their relatives right when this case is heating up," she continued to think to herself.  "Oh well.  Two weeks they'll be back, and then we'll nail these fuckers."

Later that night.  A large brick colonial-style manor house thirty miles outside the city, sitting on a half-dozen acres in an exclusive neighborhood.  12:24AM.

A man walked through a long hallway in the gigantic manor house.  Lining the hallway were various framed pictures and artwork adorning the walls.  All tasteful, conservative pieces and photos, from his various travels in life.  Pictures of him giving aid to children in Africa.  Pictures of him donating money to help fight homelessness in America.  Pictures of him doing good deeds.  He was a slightly balding Caucasian man, thirty-five years old, short brown hair, and was a successful entrepreneur, having started a dot-com business nearly twelve years ago, quickly cashing out before the fall.  He used his immense fortune to spread good will to those that had little, and enjoyed his reputation he garnered from his deeds.

Pushing a hidden button behind a hanging picture, an entire eight-foot panel of the wall shifted to the side, revealing a massive steel door.  As the door opened, in walked the man, glancing around the room.  This was his panic room, with banks of computers, monitors, and supplies lining the walls.  Not something that would be out of place in a high end home such as his.  But what made his panic room different than others, was that it was, in fact, NOT a panic room, but instead, a gateway to his…playroom.  Walking over to a bank of computers, he keyed in a special password and clicked enter.  As soon as the key was struck, the back wall of the panic room shifted, opening up a doorway-size entrance with a set of metal spiral stairs leading into the darkness below.  The man then pressed another key on the keyboard, which closed the panic room door behind him, as he made his way down the stairs.

Later that night at the very same moment..  A fourth-floor condo in the residential part of the city.  Outside.  12:25AM.

Christina’s high heels clicked along as she closed the door to her black Navigator and hit the alarm button on it, as she walked through the parking lot, toward her condo building.  Beyond tired, she didn’t notice the man in the dark clothes lurking nearby.  Not having taken ten steps away from her car, the man quickly ran up behind her, grabbing her around the waist and neck from behind, squeezing her.  “LISTEN BITCH…YOU GOT A FANCY CAR THERE…GIVE ME THE KEYS,” the man said, his breath smelling of alcohol.  “FUCKING NOW BITCH!” the man screamed, squeezing his right arm around Christina’s neck.  “Ok…ok.  Take them.  Just take it easy man, it’s just a car,” she said, as she began to reach for her purse.  “YOU THINK I’M FUCKIN’ STUPID BITCH!?!” said the man.  “YOU REACH IN YOUR PURSE AND PULL OUT FUCKIN’ MACE OR WHATEVER…FUCK NO!” he said, grabbing Christina’s purse and pushing her to the ground.

“LET’S SEE WHAT YOU GOT IN HERE,” he continued, looking through her purse, as Christina lay on the ground.  Fumbling through the purse, he came upon her badge, panic in his eyes, but soon turning to lust.  “YOU KNOW, I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO FUCK A SEXY COP,” he said, throwing her purse to the ground as he approached Christina, still on the ground.  Unbuttoning the front of his pants, he stuck his tongue out at her.  “C’MERE BABY…I GOT SUMTHIN’ FOR YA,” he continued, but was cut off mid-sentence as he felt Christina’s high-heel right foot smash into his balls!  “FUCK!” he screamed in pain, as he dropped to his knees.  Pulling out her Glock-17 9mm semiautomatic pistol from her waistband, Christina put the barrel of the gun underneath the mans chin, looking him dead in the eyes.  “It’s punks like YOU that give smart criminals a bad wrap,” she said in sarcastic tone.  “Next time you want to car jack someone, a little advice…DON’T.  Because you never know when your victim is a pissed off and tired BITCH who doesn’t have time for fucking pricks trying to steal her car!  UNDERSTAND!?!” said Christina, pushing the barrel of the gun into his chin for emphasis.  “Ye…yes ma’am,” said the creep.  “Alright, on your face on the ground,” said Christina, pulling her handcuffs from her belt.  As the creep complied, Christina couldn’t help but think to herself, “great…and I SOO wanted to get in bed and enjoy my night.  Now I’ve got to run this asshole to the station, and do the paperwork.”  “FUCK,” she said aloud, putting her knee into his back as she slapped on the cuffs.

Later that night.  A secret underground facility beneath the large brick colonial-style manor house.  1:18AM.

“JESUS CHRIST PLEASEEHEHEHAHAHANOOHOHOHA!!” a pretty blonde woman screamed.  The young Caucasian woman, in her early twenties, with long straight blonde hair, wearing nothing but sheer black pantyhose, was restrained into what looked like a gynecological chair.  Her arms were spread ninety degrees from her body, tied in leather straps at her wrists and elbows.  A strap ran across her hips, and another across her chest, just below her breasts.  Her legs were spread about 3 feet apart, laying on leg-wide long metal stirrups, restrained by straps on her thighs, knees, and ankles.  A strap ran across her forehead, pinning her head down, as sweat poured from her face and body, glistening.  She wore a black blindfold, which was already soaked with sweat.  At her feet, the same slightly balding man sat on a comfortable padded stool, using his hands to tickle her nylon feet.  His left hand tickling her right foot, and his right hand tickling her left foot.  He was relentless, scrabbling his fingers up and down her pantyhose-covered soles, not giving her a moment of respite.

“GODDPLLEASSEEHAHAHNOOHOHOMMORREEAAHAHA!!!” she continued to scream, over and over, begging the man to stop.  “ANNYTHINGGAAHAHAHA!!!  I’LLFFFUCCKYYYOUUAAHAHA!” she screamed, willing to do anything to stop the tickle torture.  “But my dear…what made you think that I WASN’T going to fuck you already,” said the man, his tone scaring the young woman, as she continued to laugh, scream, and beg him to stop.  “NOOHOHHAHANOOTTAAHAHASSSOLLESSAHAHA!!!” screamed the blonde, as he began raking his fingers up and down her black pantyhose soles, getting the desired effect he wanted.  “AHHW…DOES THE POOR TICKLISH LITTLE GIRL HAVE TICKLISH LITTLE NYLON FEET,” he yelled at her in a mocking fashion.  In a baby voice, he continued, “DOES IT TICKLE WICKLE RIGHT HERE?  HOW ABOUT HERE?  POOR LITTLE BABY, HER SOFT LITTLE NYLON SOLES ARE SO TICKLISH, AND SHE CAN’T ESCAPE FROM MY FINGERS!”

The man started poking his fingers into her nylon-covered toes, digging in deep, as the blonde woman’s screams got louder.  “NOONNOTTMMYYTOEESSHAHAHAHA!!!” she screamed at him, her black pantyhose toes being explored by the mans fingers.  As the man continued to tickle her toes with his fingers, he leaned in, opening his mouth, and began using his tongue to lick her pantyhose-covered sole of her right foot.  “NOOHOOHAHAHSSTOOPAAHA!!!” she screamed, as his tongue tickled her.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?!” came a yell from behind the man.  Immediately stopping his tickling, the man quickly turned around to see a beautiful blonde woman standing in the doorway of his playroom dungeon.  She was tall, standing 5’9”, and seemed even taller in her spiked stiletto heels.  She had short, curly dirty-blonde hair, green eyes, and was about 135lbs.  Wearing a black cocktail dress and sheer off-black pantyhose, she gave him an icy stare.  The woman walked into the room, slowly, her large size-D breasts shifting in her cocktail dress, as the man continued to watch her.

“JUST WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING,” she continued.  “What?” said the man, a puzzled look on his face.  “You know what,” she continued, her voice changing from anger to excitement.  “You know MY nylon feet are the only ones I want you licking…HONEY,” she said, emphasizing the last word.  “Of course…DEAR,” he said, emphasizing his last word.  “Love you sweetie,” she said, leaning in and giving the man a kiss on his cheek.  The man pulled her into his lap, taking her off her feet, as he passionately kissed the woman on her lips.  “Not as much as I love you, honey bunny,” said the man.

“WHU…WHAT’S GOING ON!?!  WHO…WHO ARE YOU!?!  HELP ME PLEASE…HELP ME!!!” cried the blonde restrained woman, talking to the woman who had just entered the room, her blindfold making it impossible to see what was going on.  The woman walked over to the restrained blonde, using her hand to caress her sweat-soaked face.  “Ooh…you’re a sexy little thing aren’t you?  I can see my HUSBAND was having his fun with you.  But now I’m here my dear, so it’s MY turn,” said the woman, her voice becoming more sinister.  “And you know what…I fucking LOVE blondes,” said the woman.  “Or maybe I love to FUCK them, I can never remember,” said the woman in a comical tone.  “Either way…you look just YUMMY…mind if I have taste?” the woman said, moving herself back over toward her husband.  The restrained blonde could only whimper at this latest development.

“Think there’s enough room in between her legs for me to have some fun?” said the woman to her husband, who’s face suddenly lightened up.  “Of course my dear, by all means,” he said.  The woman pulled up a stool and positioned herself between the blonde’s spread legs.  The woman ripped a hole in the pantyhose covering the blonde’s pussy.  “Now honey,” the woman said, addressing her husband.  “You know what I think about you tickle torturing the girls while I’m going down on them…right?” she continued.  “IT FUCKING MAKES ME HOT, SO PLEASE DO,” she said, an evil grin across her face.  “YOU FUCKING PEOPLE ARE CRAZY!  PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME!!” screamed the restrained blonde woman.  “I’ll help you,” said the woman sitting between her legs, as she plunged her face into the blonde’s pussy, using her tongue to tease her, as the man began scribbling his fingers up and down the blonde’s pantyhose feet.

“GOODDDNNOOHAHAHAHA…UNNGHGGH….HAHAHHA!!!!” screamed the blonde, as she experienced both pleasure and pain at the same time, her mind not knowing how to comprehend this dual assault on her body.  “HAHAHAHASTOOOPAHHAHAHANNOOHOHAHAHA!!!” she continued, the woman’s efforts causing her to get hot, while the man continued to torture her nylon feet.  “NNHOOHAHAHAIIIMMCCUUMMMIINNGGGHAHAHANOOO!!!” screamed the blonde, as she was forced to orgasm by the woman’s tongue action on her pussy, while having her nylon feet tickle tortured by the man.

The next morning.  Fourth-floor condo belong to Detective Christina Carter.  9:36AM.

Christina had just finished putting on her off-black suit and skirt, and sheer black pantyhose, as she sat on the edge of her bed, putting her nylon feet into her 3-inch black high heel pumps.  Christina walked to her dresser and opened the drawer, pulling out her Glock-17 9mm pistol, ejecting the magazine, and then sliding it back in, pulling the slide back to chamber a round.  She put the gun in her back waistband of her skirt.  Picking up her file on leads to track down, she only had one stop to make today, and it was from a vague description of where the last victim was dropped.  “Out in the land of the rich and privileged today,” she said to herself, as she walked out her front door.

Getting into her black Navigator, she started the truck, backing out of her space, as she drove down the road.  It was a nice day.  About 68 degrees later as the high temperature.  The sun was shining.  Good day.  “Maybe I’ll get lucky and find some evidence at the dump site,” she said aloud, looking in the rearview mirror at herself.  “Or maybe I’ll just find nothing like always.  Efficient fuckers,” she said, half-annoyed at how good the perpetrators were at covering their tracks.  “So I’m looking for a possibly married couple, living in the land of millionaires, who just happen to be sick fetishists who abduct woman and torture them, before dumping them and letting them go.  Great.  Wonderful,” she continued.  “I NEED A MAN,” she said aloud in a joking fashion, looking at herself in the rearview as she sped down the road.

As she was driving down a residential street, Christina slowed, thinking there was debris in the middle of the road.  As she got closer, she realized it was a naked woman, laying in the road!  Screeching her tires to a halt, Christina jumped out of her SUV and ran to the woman, who was just waking up.  “MISS…MISS, ARE YOU OK?  WHAT HAPPENED,” said Christina with concern.  As the woman came around, she saw Christina and started screaming and crying uncontrollably.  “HELP ME!!  HELP ME PLEASE!!!  THEY TORTURED ME…RAPED ME!!!  PLEASE HELP ME…HELP ME!!!” the woman screamed, tears running down her face.  “EVERYTHING IS OK NOW, I’M A POLICE OFFICER, I’M HERE TO HELP YOU, DON’T MOVE,” said Christina as she ran to her car, grabbing a blanket.  Racing back to the naked blonde woman, Christina draped the blanket on her, wrapping it around her.  Getting out her cell, Christina called in for backup and an ambulance at her current location, which arrived within minutes.  “Tha…thank you.  Thank you…” said the blonde woman over and over until the paramedics arrived.

As the blonde was being attended to in the back of the ambulance, Christina asked the medic about her condition.  “We’re not sure yet.  Doesn’t seem to be any physical damage.  She’s dehydrated and clearly exhausted.  Can’t tell you about her mental state.  Whatever this lady experienced was pretty awful though, to leave her in such a condition,” said the medic, before driving off.  Christina was very upset.  She couldn’t confirm it yet, but this sounded eerily similar to all the crimes she was investigating.  She opened up her cell and dialed in to the office.  “Hey…this is Christina.  Run a report for me.  I want ALL the married couples in the following zip code.  Yeah I know it’ll take time…JUST GET ON IT!” she screamed into the phone.

Later that same day.  In front of a large brick colonial-style manor house.  4:46PM.

Christina pulled her black Navigator up the long, cobblestone driveway of the large estate, stopping the car in front of the house.  “You’re first on my list,” said Christina, sitting in her car, looking at the house.  Christina pulled out her sidearm from her waistband and checked to see if it was chambered, before putting it back.  “Ok…be the lead I need,” she said aloud, looking at herself in the rearview, before stepping out of the car and walking up to the front door, her high heels clicking on the ground, her purse and phone still in the front seat of her car.  “Rich people,” Christina said in a comical tone as she looked up at the gigantic house.  She pushed the doorbell button, which sounded a lovely chime throughout the house.  About a minute later, a tall, attractive woman with dirty-blonde hair answered the door.

“Yes, what can I do for you,” said the woman in a pleasant tone.  “Oh, good afternoon ma’am.  My name is Christina Carter and I’m a detective with the city,” said Christina, showing the woman her badge hanging from the lanyard around her neck.  “I’m investigating some crimes that have taken place in the general area, and was wondering if I could come in and ask you some questions,” said Christina.  “Crimes…around here?  This area seems so safe, I can’t imagine any crimes happening here.  What type of crimes?” asked the woman.  “I’m afraid I can’t go into details since it’s an active investigation, ma’am.  But if I could just have a moment of your time, I would appreciate it,” Christina continued.  The attractive woman looked Christina up and down, noticing to herself just how beautiful Christina was.  As if a light bulb had gone off in her head, the woman smiled and said, “of course my dear, by all means, come in.  The living room is just through there,” the woman pointed, as Christina walked in that direction.  “Make yourself at home, I’ll be just a moment.  I need to go get my HUSBAND,” the woman continued, emphasizing her words.  As the woman turned away, she spun around toward Christina.  “Oh, how rude of me…can I offer you anything to drink?” she asked.  “Coffee, black.  Thanks,” said Christina, walking into the living room.  The woman turned back away, a wicked smile forming on her face.

Christina, the woman, and her husband sat in one of the main living rooms of the house, as Christina continued her questioning, trying not to divulge any information about the crimes.  Christina sat on the couch next to the woman, while the husband sat in an adjacent chair, as Christina continued to sip her coffee and take notes.  The woman and her husband were very friendly and open, answering all of Christina’s questions.  Christina couldn’t help but think they were being a little too open and friendly with her.  “Maybe that’s just their nature,” she thought to herself.  As she continued to take notes, Christina’s vision soon began to blur a little, and her pen felt heavy in her hand.  She started blinking her eyes more, rubbing them with her hand every so often.  She felt out of breath, as the room started spinning a little.

“Are you ok my dear?” asked the woman.  “Yes…just feel funny.  Maybe we should just…uh…wrap this up,” Christina said, her vision continuing to get worse, as the room started spinning more.  The husband and wife looked at each other with devilish grins, as the husband got up and sat down next to Christina on the couch, with his wife on the other side of her, Christina in the middle.  “But my dear Christina, you can’t go just yet.  We’re going to have so much FUN together,” said the woman, putting her hand on Christina’s pantyhose thigh, moving it up toward her crotch, reaching underneath her skirt.  “NO…GET YOUR HA..HAN…HAND OFF OF ME!” said Christina, assertively, as she tried to get up.  The man put his hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down in the seated position in between him and his wife.  “I DON’T THINK SO YOU COP BITCH!” said the man in a loud voice, as he held on to Christina’s shoulder.

Christina knew she was in trouble, but her vision was almost completely gone by now, and the room was spinning wildly.  “NOO…UNNGH!” screamed Christina, as she reached behind her and pulled out her sidearm from her back waistband, trying to point it at the man.  Both the man and woman saw this, and both of them grabbed her arm and wrist, as the man pulled the gun away from Christina.  “SEXY BITCHES LIKE YOU SHOULDN’T PLAY WITH GUNS,” said the man, tossing the gun across the room onto another couch.  “PLEA…PLEASE…STOP…DON’T…” was all that Christina could get out before everything went black, the drug in her coffee knocking her out completely.  Christina remained in the sitting position in between the man and woman, her head falling back.  “Wow…she’s so beautiful,” said the woman to her husband.  “But a cop?  She’s seen our faces, we can’t just have our fun and let her go,” the woman continued.  “Honey bunny…who said anything about LETTING HER GO,” said the man, the devilish smile forming on his face.  “Our ten year anniversary is coming up.  Ten years of having our way with these sluts.  Together.  Truth be told, I was nervous about what I should get you to celebrate our milestone.  So here’s your gift.  HER,” said the man.  The woman’s face brightened up as she realized the sexy cop laying unconscious between them was to be her plaything forever.  “I LOVE you sweetie, this is the BEST present ever!!!,” she said.  “Can I unwrap it yet, or do I have to wait?” she continued.  “Honey bunny…she’s yours, you do with her whatever YOU want.”

“I’ll go get rid of her car.  Be a dear and entertain our guest while I’m gone, won’t you honey,” said the man.  “Of course dear,” his wife replied.  “Besides, I’m just DYING to see what kind of sexy body she’s hiding underneath her clothes,” she continued.  As the man left the room, the woman pushed the sleeping Christina over on her side on the couch, lifting Christina’s legs up on her lap.  The woman rubbed her hands all over Christina’s legs.  “I just LOVE your suit.  So professional.  So SEXY!” the woman continued, rubbing her hands down Christina’s pantyhose-covered legs, down to her shoes.  “And I have to stay…LOVE the shoes babe!” said the woman to a sleeping Christina.  Christina was moaning very faintly, as the woman slowly removed Christina’s right black high-heel pump.  “Size 7.5,” said the woman, looking at the pump.  “Just my size,” said the woman, as she removed Christina’s left pump next.

Looking at Christina’s feet and red-painted toes in sheer black pantyhose excited the woman, who couldn’t help herself.  With her eyes locked onto Christina’s sleeping face, the woman took Christina’s right nylon foot into her mouth, licking and sucking Christina’s black pantyhose toes, her tongue darting in and out between each toe.  The woman took Christina’s left nylon foot, and using her tongue, began licking, from her heel, over her arch and sole, and up to her nylon-covered toes, before nibbling on the toes.  “MMMHHHHHHH!” moaned the woman, as she made love to Christina’s black pantyhose feet, taking them into her mouth, licking and sucking them.

Five minutes later and the woman was still licking Christina’s black pantyhose soles, as her husband walked in, throwing Christina’s purse on the couch next to his wife.  “Her name is Christina Carter like she said.  She’s a detective in the city.  I found a file in her car…apparently she’s been investigating what we’ve been doing for quite a while.  I also saw two other names in her file.  Akira Lane, and Tomiko.  Look like they may her partners," said the man.  "If she has partners, they may know about us and will come looking for her," said the woman.  "Don't you worry about that honey.  It certainly wouldn't be the first time we've had to be proactive with our approach.  We have the space...I think once we have Miss Christina downstairs, we should look into those other detectives as well," said the man.  "Besides, can you believe our luck that she falls in our hands like this?” said the man.  “It must be fate,” said the woman, in between licking her tongue up Christina’s right sheer black nylon sole.  “Her nylon feet are DELICIOUS!” said the woman.  “I can’t wait to see how delicious the rest of her body is.”  “Neither can I, honey bunny.  Let’s bring her downstairs,” continued the man.  “Lets,” she replied.