Courtesan Cop Ch. 01


She pulled him close and whispered, "It's a murder of a courtesan. A very special one from what I've heard though I haven't been inside to view the crime scene." She looked at an open doorway half way down the hall. Lieutenant Sheldon was looking in their direction, beckoning. "You'd better go," said Marge, and giving him an affectionate pat on the bottom, she shooed him down the hall.

Jeffrey proudly walked the gauntlet of gawking uniformed females, who made no effort to hide their stares at his body. All of them actually looked at his face, but they preferred to keep their eyes on his muscular legs displayed in the thin leggings, and his even thinner pouch which jiggled and swayed with each step he took. The smiles and winks he received from the women in uniform showed their affection for him and support for his new position. After all, he had become sort of the mascot of the street cops' brigade.

He pulled out his badge and hooked it over the breast pocket of his jacket, then purposefully released the single button on his jacket, allowing it to open and reveal the smooth white skin of his exposed belly below the shiny blue gem that brought attention to his boyish navel. The women's eyes now simply made a circuit – navel piercing, smooth belly, swaying pouch, muscular thighs – and back again. He even heard an officer whisper to another "he needs a spanking..." Typical, he thought.

Jeffrey reached to door and met the grinning Lt. Sheldon. "Do you always have to do that to them, pretty boy? They'll now be useless for the next hour just comparing notes and giggling," she said with mock sternness.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Ma'am," he said with an innocent look on his face.

She shook her head, "Perhaps you don't...but I have my doubts."

She took him gently by the arm and walked him into the very luxurious apartment crime scene. The furniture, carpet, drapes, art, and decorations were all right out of Architectural Digest, and all the latest styles; big, big, money to do a room this fashionably. Being a courtesan certainly paid well, but Jeffrey was all too aware of that. His mother never let him forget it.

Lt. Sheldon put her arm uncharacteristically around Jeffrey's shoulder. "Detective Mason," she said softly, "This is a rough murder scene. I've asked you here because you were trained as a courtesan and therefore might have insights about the victim and the crime that we wouldn't otherwise catch. I know you are a professional police officer. But I also know you are male and a courtesan and this case may cause you to feel emotional. It sort of strikes too close to home, so to speak." She paused to see if Jeffrey understood.

He nodded, and she continued. "If you can handle this, I want you on the investigation team. But if, for any reason, you don't feel comfortable working this case, I will completely understand and nobody will think the less of you."

Yeah, right, Jeffrey thought, everyone would say I'm just a boy and couldn't handle it. They'd say that the slut couldn't handle the murder of a slut. No thanks, I'll be fine.

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand completely. Thank you," he said.

Lt. Sheldon gave Jeffrey the complete rundown as they entered the hall and stopped at the door to the master suite. There was a beautiful blonde boy, possibly a year or two older than Jeffrey, spread-eagled and tied on his back to the king sized poster-bed. He showed the red marks and welts of being beaten with whips, crops, and canes. His genitals were quite big, and they were also clearly marked with red lines from whipping. There was some blood.

The Lieutenant summarized what they knew so far for Jeffrey, to get him up to speed.

The courtesan's name is Paul Valentine. Last name possibly changed, we're looking into it. He has leased this apartment for 4 years and he does in-call sessions only, all right here. He'll let a client take him to dinner, but the fun happens in this room. It says so on his website. He was a submissive courtesan that catered to a special class of clients – women who particularly enjoy dominating a boy physically. He allowed himself to be spanked and whipped, tied up, that sort of thing. He was very expensive.

About 2AM this morning, a neighbor got in late from a party and saw that his door was open. She's a friend and says that he was the model neighbor and tenant in every way, and only had about one client a week. His logbook confirms this. She said she called to him through the open door and, hearing no response, came inside to see if he was ok or if his apartment had been robbed. She saw him as he is and dialed 911.

He had no client logged last night. Forensics is dusting the place for prints and fibers, but there have been many women here so who knows if they'll find anything. They'll match what they find to his client list and we'll see who doesn't match.

The body has been struck with at least 5 different implements, all of which were hung again neatly in the closet where they are kept. You can see his front side. His back side appears to be much worse. Cause of death is still not known, but time of death has been established at about 1230AM this morning.

We've left the scene basically untouched so that you could see it, Jeffrey. Do some magic for us because we're getting big heat on this case...big heat from high places, if you know what I mean...

Jeffrey absorbed the information as he stood in the bedroom doorway, looking at the body. He didn't know Paul; probably from another school, he thought. He nodded to the lieutenant, "Got it," he said.

Lt. Sheldon cleared the forensics team out of the room and said, "Take a look around, detective, and tell me what you see."

Jeffrey put on latex gloves as he entered the room and turned in a full circle as he looked around. He pointed to a bookshelf, "There's a camera inside Moby Dick," he said. The lieutenant looked surprised but pleased, "Progress already," she muttered, and stuck her head out of the door to direct some techs to examine the book, and search all the furniture for that matter, when Jeffrey was through with the room.

Jeffrey looked in the closet and examined the spanking implements and other toys with which he was all too familiar. There were paddles, straps, crops, whips, and floggers, as well as clamps, cuffs, chains, a pinwheel, urethral sounds, and all the accoutrements of BDSM. "None of this is unusual; you'd find it all in the stock of any courtesan with his specialty."

Lt. Sheldon said, "Are there many of them? His specialty, I mean."

"Not really, there are probably 20 or so in a city this size. The boys who do this are always fair skinned and mark easily. Pale skin makes it easy for the client to see the results of her labors."

"Oh, my," the lieutenant couldn't help being surprised and embarrassed, "I had no idea...about there being so many boys, I mean."

"Certainly," said Jeffrey, "Supply molds itself to fit the market, as in all enterprise."

Lt. Sheldon was silently feeling embarrassed about the situation, and allowed Jeffrey to continue. But she was again pleased with her decision to call him in. This boy would have lots of valuable information to offer the investigation.

Jeffrey looked under the bed. "Pressure sensitive digital recorder; a working boy must not only protect himself, but can also pick up the odd stock tip. Women get talkative at certain times under certain conditions." He looked up to see the lieutenant blush, and with a satisfied grin, he moved to examine the body.

He started at the Paul's toes. In Jeffrey's mind, this was a courtesan named Paul. This was a real human being who had had a real life and hopes and dreams and family and regular clients – not just a victim - and not just a slut whose murder would just be filed away in a vault. Jeffrey was already getting pissed off and he had to calm himself to be clear headed and miss nothing as he began to examine the body.

"Recent pedicure...his legs, and probably whole body, were waxed...I see the marks of a leather flogger, a crop, a cane.... And something else...a wooden spoon, perhaps?" Lt. Sheldon had her notepad out and was writing notes as he spoke. "Thighs caned hard, deep bruising...continuing to hips and belly...genitals swollen prior to testicle possibly ruptured... scrotum shows excessive stretching... recent... vascular connections to testicles severed... there it is, post-mortem incision to detach his testes... penis badly bruised... evidence of recent sounding due to open and stretched urethra... and... oh... "

Jeffrey walked back to the closet and removed a small leather case from a shelf. Opening it, he examined the contents of stainless steel rods of various girths about 8" long. One was missing. He lifted the case to show the lieutenant, "The missing sound is still in him; forced all the way in."

He went back to the body and reported the same findings of welts and bruising on Paul's torso. He looked at the boy's face, opened the eyelids to find adorable blue bloodshot eyes. He closed them. He opened the boy's pouting lips. "Be sure to have them swab his mouth for DNA, Ma'am, the overzealous client may have availed herself of some pleasurable services before beating this boy to death, and there could be trace DNA." Lt. Sheldon blushed as she made the notes.

Jeffrey looked at the boy's wrists and ankles and then said, "Amateur knots, Ma'am; whoever tied him up knows nothing about BDSM and bondage. Usually, a woman will take great care and use special knots to secure her boy properly. Women who like to tie boys up enjoy taking their time with the ropes in a loving way so as not to hurt him with the bonds. These knots were done by an idiot. This makes sense with dropping the sound – unless it was done purposely, in which case he'd have known then that his assailant planned to kill him."

Jeffrey looked up and said, "We should look at his back side now." Sheldon nodded and called into the other room. Techs came in and untied Paul and rolled him over as Jeffrey watched sadly.

The boy's back was much worse than the front side. "Amazing," said Jeffrey, "that he could take that beating and then still cooperate and be turned over and re-tied. Either there were multiple assailants enough to physically control him as he struggled, or more likely they had him at gunpoint, or he was drugged." Jeffrey looked down and then whispered, "Or he was in love..." he said.

Sheldon looked up from her note-taking, "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Graduate courtesans, among other things, are proficient in Krav Maga. They can handle themselves even in with a crowd. Paul could, until he was tied, take out any number of unarmed women and the armed ones if they were close enough. That's why physical control by multiple assailants is the least likely explanation."

"I understand, thank you. I meant about the 'in love' part, Jeffrey," she said with a soft voice, calling him by his first name instead of saying 'detective'. She was trying to be kind and Jeffrey understood it – maternal instincts kicking in and all that – she was concerned that this case was indeed striking too close to home for Jeffrey.

"Well, I just meant that his back side has taken quite a licking. Look at the deep purple bruising and welts on his bottom; very severe. But a boy in his line of work can take quite a lot, and if he were in love with her, he'd have the motivation to turn over and let her play with his front side too. He would trust her and just think she had been overzealous with his bottom. Otherwise there was a gun or drugs. More likely drugs since Krav Maga is pretty good at taking weapons away from assailants."

Lt. Sheldon smiled at the boy, "So you're a Krav Maga practitioner?" Her appreciation for this mysterious young man continued to grow with every new revelation.

Jeffrey paused and looked at her calmly. He said, "You're 10 feet from me, Ma'am, but if you started to draw your gun, I would take it away from you before you could fire it."

She considered his expression and the flat tone of his voice and marveled. "I think you're telling the truth," she said.

"Yes, Ma'am."

He began to examine the boy's back side from ankles to scalp. He found nothing but the evidence of a very severe discipline session that initially focused on the usual disciplinary areas – bottom and upper thighs – but had then moved on to include every square inch of the boy's skin. Other than that, Jeffrey found nothing more of interest to report.

Lt. Sheldon led him back to the living room and sat down with him on the couch, letting the techs have the room now to take it apart and bag everything for the lab, including the camera and recording device.

She looked him in the eyes and asked, "How are you doing, Jeffrey, are you ok with this?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm fine," he said, "I am very interested in catching the killer or killers. I won't fold on you, nor will I let the fact that I am really pissed off cloud my judgment or efficiency in any way."

"You aren't going to be personally affected by this case?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Then I have every confidence in you, Detective, and I am quite relieved. You did very well in the crime scene and we're going to catch the UnSub with your valuable help, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Ma'am," he said.

Lt. Sheldon adjusted herself more upright and got down to business. "Alright, I'd like you to tell me everything you can about how this boy lived and what he did. Be specific and don't feel embarrassed about anything." She got her notepad ready.

Jeffrey told her a lot of information about courtesans, 'the life' as they called it, and how this particular courtesan would have operated. After all Jeffrey had seen in the apartment, he could pretty well piece together the basics of Paul's probable life, and laid it out for his Boss...

Paul would have a website probably hosted internationally. His cell phone would have the numbers of many clients, but not all. He would certainly have all of his regulars so he could know when they were calling. Besides the website for attracting new clients, he would get a lot of business by word of mouth referral, so again, perhaps no records. His charges for a session would be very high. Based on his lifestyle in this building, he'd get as much as $10,000 for a severe session, but a session like that could last a weekend if the client wished.

He'd charge different rates for levels of intensity, usually referred to as 'light', 'heavy', and 'severe'. The big difference in money is the healing time for Paul. After a severe session, he might not be able to work again for many days until his marks healed and disappeared. Clients want a fresh boy to mark, and not to lay their marks atop another woman's work.

Some clients would want sexual contact on various levels, others would not. Probably most clients would enjoy touching his genitals, perhaps making him ejaculate, perhaps more than once. Many clients would want to be orally pleasured, and a few would have intercourse with him. All service 'add-ons' came with a dollar cost. It just depends on the woman's desires, as Paul would do whatever they wanted, as a true submissive male. But those services are available elsewhere at a fraction of the cost. So we're probably looking for someone with money and the taste for discipline first and foremost.

Also, there's an outside chance that Paul had a Matron – a regular client that was more than a client. She would not just pay for sessions; she'd pay part or all of his bills and consider him her personal consort. Although she'd have to let others play with him too, she would be his first priority and she would expect him to come to heel when she beckoned.

Paul's real business, in BDSM terms, was as a 'bottom'. In BDSM a 'bottom' is the boy who takes punishment and other pain play from his 'top' or in this case, the client. Paul was paid to take pain for his clients in any manner in which they chose to inflict it. The pain was not the point, but only the vehicle through which he could show his absolute submission to the client's absolute power over him. That power play was the true 'rush' of the scene.

But the 'Top' has responsibility for the welfare and safety of the 'bottom'. It is her job to show herself worthy of his trust and submission. A true 'Top' cares for and, at least on some level, loves for her 'bottom' and is worthy of his trust – she protects and nurtures him at the same time she dominates him.

Since most women had plenty of boys in their charge – husband, son, consort, nephew, whatever – they would regularly put those boys over their laps and spank and paddle to their heart's content. Very rarely does a woman whip or cane a boy of her own household as it's really unnecessary to inflict that much damage. A paddle can easily bring a boy to tears without leaving big welts that last for days. But a woman with means and a hidden desire to inflict more pain on a boy, will seek out Paul's sort of Courtesan so that she can fulfill her longings to go past the boundaries of 'normal' domestic discipline.

And we're not just talking about caning and whipping.

There is also 'genital play' – which involves the pinwheels, urethral sounds, hot wax, clips and clamps, testicle stretching, squeezing, and slapping, penis whipping, and the like – all these cause severe sensations in the male genitals. If a woman is inexperienced in genital play, she can do permanent damage to the boy's delicate parts – but because of that, most women are quite gentle and considerate of the boy's vulnerability and she will respect the limits of her own skill and experience. It is never the goal of a real client to actually damage a Courtesan.

But this was not the case with the killer. She did a lot of damage to Paul's genitals while he was still alive.

Inflicting severe pain on a boy in large amounts is usually a sexual turn on for the client who wants this service. She is excited to watch his body shiver and wiggle in torment, to hear him cry out in pain and beg for mercy, and to see his pale skin marked with redness, welts, or bruising. At the same time, she will also enjoy comforting and soothing the boy after the session, and sharing the intimacy of his trust and vulnerability. After the 'discipline' part of the session, and sometimes during, this sort of woman will also enjoy sexual stimulation of some kind with the object of her 'discipline'.

Role-playing is also an important part of playtime with a Courtesan like Paul. Doctor/patient, teacher/student, Aunt/nephew, even Mother/son, Policewoman/prisoner, and many others, are all 'normal' role-playing scenarios that Paul would have participated in with his clients many times.

The psychological makeup of this sort of client can vary greatly. Sometimes Paul is a surrogate, a stand-in if you will, for another boy that the woman wishes to punish. Sometimes she is reliving a past experience she'd greatly enjoyed earlier in her life. Sometimes the woman just loves to hear a helpless and vulnerable boy cry out and beg for mercy.

"Who knows what motivated the killer, but I can tell you this," said Jeffrey, "she does not like men. The reason I know this is because of the permanent damage done to his penis and testicles. Everything else could have been explained by a discipline session gone out of control. But for a woman to do permanent damage to a boys genitals is way out of the bell curve; very abnormal behavior, criminal behavior."

Seeing Sheldon nod in agreement, he continued, "Most women like male genitalia and are sensitive to how vulnerable a boy is there. A lot of women can get a thrill out of causing a boy some pain in his genitals, but to actually harm them permanently is very unusual. That sort of behavior comes from hatred, not kink."

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