Crimson Pt. 01

Brenda reached forward, and while I couldn't see what she was doing, I had a good idea. I saw her head go forward and move up and down. She didn't hesitate. She followed his instructions without thinking, with three men besides Mr. Wallace watching her.

"As you can see, Brenda is now trained and belongs to me." He bragged, proud of himself. "Let me show you something."

He reached out and pulled Brenda's hair up in the back. At the base of her hairline was the same red letter C that I saw on the girl at the casino.

"That letter is our brand for the women we own." He explained. "Our organization is called Crimson, and all of our women wear this on their neck. We give each woman a number that identifies her. If a member tells her 'Crimson,' followed by her number, she must obey anything he says until he releases her. We train all of our women to do this. Brenda is no exception."

"Well, I'm sure she would much rather be a financial analyst for your firm than a call girl, but it's no different from what she was doing before. Again, not my problem."

Ok, I was bluffing now. Seeing Brenda suck this asshole's dick was making me mad. I knew she had sex with men every night for money, and that didn't bother me. This was more personal somehow, and I didn't like it. I just hoped I hid my true feelings well enough.

"Detective, I don't believe that for one second." He taunted, smiling. I guess he saw through my bluff. "I know you're close to her and her daughter. Between my research and what Brenda told me, I know you care about both of them. I'll let you in on a secret Brenda's been keeping; she really likes you too. She's just disappointed that you never made a move on her. It actually hurt her feelings that you didn't."

I didn't know if he was lying or not. I watched Brenda closely and thought I could see her skin redden slightly. Was she blushing? If so, he was telling the truth. Dammit, how could I miss that? What was I saying? Of course I missed it. I spent most of my time either drunk or getting home so I could get drunk. It left me with nothing to say, no quick comeback. That revelation rocked me, and I sat there dumbfounded and feeling stupid.

"This is what's going to happen." Mr. Wallace explained. "You'll work for me. I'll pay you more money than you've seen in your life. I'll even sweeten the deal. I'll give Brenda to you. Well, mostly to you. I still have a use for her. She has a high tolerance of pain and she even let some of her old Johns get rough. I know some men who like that, and I'm trying to get them to join. They have deep pockets and I want access."

"Don't worry, it won't be too often." He continued. "She will work for me at the law firm, and I'll use her for my pleasure. You'll have to share her with me. I'll promise you this; if I send her out to another member, you can be her security. You will escort her to and from her assignment. The member can do whatever they want with her, within reason of course. We have a strict rule of no permanent damage or marks. If a member breaks that rule, we remove them from the organization."

"Remove them from the organization?" I replied. "If someone hurts Brenda, I'll kill him."

"Now calm down detective." Mr. Wallace interjected. "I'm using her for that specific purpose. She will have to endure some pain, but with her condition, it won't be too bad. That's why I have her. I've tried to send some of our normal ladies into these situations, and they came back broken. Nothing physical, but they mentally couldn't handle it. We pushed Brenda during training, and she handled everything wonderfully. As a prostitute, she is used to having sex with multiple men. Nothing we did phased her at all. Did it Brenda?"

She lifted her head long enough to say, "No sir," them immediately continued sucking his cock.

"Ok, if I do this, Brenda will be mine." I countered. "You don't get to use her. If she agrees, and only if she agrees, I will allow her to visit these men. I will limit her to one visit per month. If they are as rough as you say, she will need time to recover. You will pay me what you promised, and you will pay Brenda an equal amount." I didn't think he would accept all of that, but it's best to ask for more than you expect to get.

"That's too many restrictions." He retorted. "You seem to think you have something to bargain with. I can get another cop and use Brenda however I want. I can kill you tonight and no one will look for you."

"That may be true, they may not look for me, but they will find you." I replied. "I left a message on my answering machine at the office before I came out of the diner. It has all of your information on it, and everything I've found in the last two weeks. The files at my desk fill in the blanks. When I don't show up for a few days, they will dump my messages and find the one I left. How long until you get more visits? How much scrutiny do you want?"

That was it. That was my last card to play. Let's see if it worked.

"That's brilliant detective." Mr. Wallace grinned. "I knew I made the right decision in you. I'm enjoying our battle of wits tonight. Ok, this is my last offer. I agree to once a month visits with members. I agree to pay both of you handsomely. Brenda will work for me and me only. Don't worry, I have so many other women that I may not use Brenda for weeks at a time. I will employ Brenda as a financial analyst. I can use her to oversee mine and my company's portfolios."

"And to sweeten the deal, you will have full access to all of our women." He continued. "Our members need to request a woman, but you will have access normally reserved for our VIP members. If you desire a woman, your request will take precedence over anyone else except for me and our other VIP members. There are only six of us, so you'll make number seven."

"That sounds good." I answered. I didn't know if I would use any of the women, but having access could be beneficial. "What do you expect of me?"

"For all of that, I want you to ensure any of our women that are reported missing are not found." Mr. Wallace explained. "They will return within a few weeks, but we don't want any attention while they're gone. You will also act as security when I need you. As an officer, you are more intimidating than my usual men. I'll reserve you for our high-profile accounts. Don't worry about getting authorization for any assignments. I have a feeling your precinct captain will want to see you in the morning. Yes, he's one of our VIP members, one of the six I mentioned. We count the Mayor, a judge, and a couple of City Councilmen in our ranks as well."

These guys are connected. What have I gotten myself into? I did this to protect Brenda, but now I wasn't sure if I made the right decision. I had to play this carefully, but first I had to get out of this limo. Just as I had that thought, we stopped. We were back at the diner. Mr. Wallace told Brenda to get dressed and bid both of us a goodnight. She grabbed her bags, and we walked to my car and climbed inside.

I drove for a few miles before I realized I didn't know where we were going. Brenda was quiet, just staring out the side window. "Where am I taking you, to your place?" I asked.

Brenda looked over at me and answered, "No, to yours. Mr. Wallace was adamant that if you accepted I would move in with you."

What the hell? That was unexpected. I thought for a moment and asked, "What about Kathy? I really don't have a place where a kid should live."

"That's not a problem." She replied. "Part of my deal with Mr. Wallace is her acceptance to a highly regarded boarding school here in town. So long as I work for him, he pays all of her expenses. I still get to see her since she's close, but she's in a much better environment."

"That was awful nice of him." I said, not believing he was being altruistic. "What was the catch?"

Brenda looked down, unsure she should answer. Finally she said, "I had to sign over guardianship to Mr. Wallace. I had to surrender my rights to him. It's another way of controlling me."

"He must really want you bad to go through all of that." I responded. "He mentioned his members don't want prostitutes, but here you are. I'm sorry for that, but I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"It doesn't hurt my feelings, if that's what you're worried about." She reassured me. "I've come to grips with my life a long time ago. No, he doesn't pick up prostitutes to train, he sells them. That's what they planned to do with me until they found out my tolerance for pain. He planned on sending my daughter to an orphanage, told me as much, and I went crazy. It took three guards to take me down, and I ended up badly bruised. Mr. Wallace was amazed I wasn't in pain after that, and that's when he found my secret."

Ok, too much to unpack in that statement. This organization sells women and puts their kids into the system. They're connected to slavers and have connections within child welfare. I didn't know how far they went, but none of that was good. They had a readily available population of women to sell. Once a girl reaches eighteen, the system releases them. Mr. Wallace can pick them up and do what he wants. These young women have no one to report them missing, and no one will ever look for them. It was as evil as it was brilliant.

"What do you mean by your tolerance of pain?" I asked. Mr. Wallace mentioned that as well, so it must be important.

"A normal person experiences pain." She explained. "If you burn your hand, for example, your nerves relay a signal to the brain that your hand is in contact with something hot. The brain interprets the signals as pain, and your body reacts by pulling your hand away. My body doesn't do that as well. I can feel pain, but it's at a much lower level. It's like my nerves don't fully open."

"I can put my hand on something hot and hold it there while my skin blisters." Brenda continued as she looked out the window. "I can feel something like pressure and heat, but it never reaches the point of what you feel as pain. By the time I feel anything, my nerves are dead from the burn. I have to be careful everywhere I go. I can break my leg and it will only feel like I have a bruise. I've gotten good at interpreting what I feel, and I'm always checking to see if I'm really hurt."

"I think I've heard about that before." I answered.

"It's called Congenital Insensitivity to Pain, or CIP." Brenda confirmed. "I'm lucky, I guess, in that I can feel a little. I've talked with others with CIP and they have it worse. Something could terribly hurt them and result in internal bleeding and they would never know it. People have died from injuries they never knew they had. I'm thankful that's not me."

"It has actually come in handy." She explained. "Some of my customers liked to get rough. I had a man who loved spanking me, and another who liked to whip me and smack me around. Hell, one liked to punch me in my side while he fucked me."

"None of that bothered me, but I played it up like it did." She added. "The men got off by me pretending to scream and cry, and they paid me extra for the privilege of inflicting what they thought was pain. Thankfully, I'm a fast healer. Any marks usually disappeared within a few days. That's why Mr. Wallace wants me. I can tolerate the pain that most people can't."

We talked a bit more about her condition and how she's dealt with it. We finally arrived at my place and I parked my car in the underground garage. Brenda looked around at the trash strewn across the ground and in the corners. In her fancy dress, she looked out of place. I felt embarrassed.

We climbed the stairs to the third floor since the elevator has been out of service for what seemed like forever. Not that I would trust it if it suddenly started working. As we walked into my apartment, I saw it properly for the first time in years. That was because I had Brenda with me, and I was conscious of the disrepair it was in.

My living room had a single couch and a fifteen-year-old television. The coach was dingy and torn, with stains all over it. I can't remember the last time I cleaned the place, and my carpet looked like farm animals lived on it. The smell was a mixture of mildew and sweat. It always went away after a few minutes, but tonight I was acutely aware of it. Brenda stood inside the door and stopped, dropping her bags. I put my head down and walked to the kitchen. I needed a drink. I poured a glass of whiskey and downed it in one shot.

I walked back out to the living room to find Brenda in the same spot, seemingly afraid to move. I took her bags and walked her back to the bedroom. My bed is the same as I had with my wife, mattress and all. I did the laundry and changed the sheets just two weeks ago. Yes, I know. I have no motivation.

When Brenda saw the bed, she said, "Oh, hell no," and turned around. She reached into her bag, took out a dress that wasn't as formal, and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out and ordered me to take her to the nearest twenty-four-hour Price-Mart. After shopping for two hours and working for another two, my apartment at least looked habitable.

I had new sheets, new towels, a couch cover, and food in the kitchen. My apartment now smelled of carpet freshener, cleaning solution, and disinfectant. Brenda put me to work using the new vacuum she made me buy while she cleaned up the kitchen. All she had were dresses, skirts, and blouses, so she stripped to her panties and bra to work.

She wore a red lace bra that covered just the bottom third of her breasts, and I could clearly see her areolas through the fabric. Her panties were matching red lace and high cut. Her ass was on full display, and a thin strip of fabric barely covered her vagina, running between her legs. I couldn't help admiring her. I was an idiot for not making a move on her earlier. All of her experience with Mr. Wallace could have been avoided had I opened my eyes to what was in front of me.

It was getting late. We sat down for a few minutes and talked when we finished.

"Why did Mr. Wallace make you move in with me?" I asked. That question was on my mind most of the night.

"Because, he likes to humiliate the husbands of the women he owns." She answered. "He had a good idea of how you felt about me. He is very hands on with training the new women, and he spent considerable time with me. He loved talking about you when we were together. It was always, 'I wonder what James would say if he could see us,' and 'I bet it would kill James to know the woman he cares about is sucking my dick.' He got off talking like that, and he said he makes other husbands watch him fuck their wives."

"He is one sick individual." I replied. "He is right, though. I care about you. I'm sorry it's taken this long to admit it. My feelings for you should be no surprise. You're a beautiful woman, and I honestly can't keep my eyes off of you. What surprises me is that you feel the same way. Why is that? I'm a middle-aged, washed out, alcoholic cop. You're not even thirty years old yet, why me?"

Brenda had a look of appreciation on her face when she smiled and said, "You're the most decent man I know. Everyone looks down at me for where my life is. Even my customers look at me like I'm dirty, less than human. You treat me like an equal. You've always treated me like I have value, that I'm more than my life's circumstances. You genuinely want to spend time with me, and for our entire friendship, you never wanted sex. You were one of the two bright lights in my life over the years, the other being my daughter."

"How could you fall for me, James?" She asked. "I was fucking different men every night, but that never turned you off. Why is that?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know." I answered, still searching for the right words. "I just enjoy spending time with you. There is something about you that makes me happy. I always thought you were beautiful, but it wasn't about sex. I just felt the need to be around you. That's funny because I don't want to be around anyone."

I explained about my past, my wife and son, and my current situation. I mentioned them before to her, but didn't give the complete story. Brenda had a look of sadness when she reached out and grabbed my hand. "I don't know what relationship we'll have, but you now have someone who cares for you. You're no longer alone."

I had to stop and think for a moment. I never felt alone. Was I alone? I guess I was, in a literal sense. I answered, "And you now have me. It appears I'm your security, as Mr. Wallace puts it."

"No, James, Mr. Wallace said he's giving me to you." Brenda answered with a look of seriousness. "You need to understand that this isn't a game. Mr. Wallace comes across as pleasant, but he's the opposite. That man is evil and will not hesitate to hurt both of us if we cross him. He said you own me. You need to take that seriously."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"They trained me to be obedient to all Crimson members, without exception." She explained. "Don't think he did you a favor when he made you a member. I didn't know what he was doing until I put it all together. They give the VIP members women that they control. These men ensure the women remain obedient."

"He expects you to put me through my paces, so to speak." Brenda cautioned. "You will need to be strict with me. I work for him and have to report everything we do. I have no choice. He controls my daughter, so I'll tell him everything, James. I'm sorry. He's looking forward to seeing the anguish in your face when you have to treat me like that. He's banking on the fact that we care for each other."

"It's easier for the other members." She continued. "They have no emotional connection to the women. They also assign the married women VIP members to oversee them. These men have open access to their houses and their lives. He told me it's not unusual for the members to show up at night and kick the husbands out of their bedrooms and fuck their wives. Hell, some of the VIP members make the men wear chastity devices, forbidding the married couple from having sex."

"You're in the middle of the two." Brenda added. "We're not married, but you have an emotional connection to me. With the husbands, they don't have to abuse their wives. They don't have that stress. You do. He wants to see how we deal with our relationship with everything else. James, I care for you, but I don't want any of this to hurt you. I know you're a decent man, and I don't want you to fall apart over the way you will have to treat me."

"Brenda, that's how I feel about you." I acknowledged. "I don't know exactly what he expects of me, but I don't want to do anything to hurt you, either."

Brenda jumped up from her chair at the kitchen table and hugged me. She started crying and wouldn't let go. She climbed into my lap and sat there, her head on my shoulder. I felt sorry for her, especially knowing this may have been avoided if I was a stronger person and let her into my life earlier. After a few minutes, she stopped crying and kissed me.

This was our first kiss. Her lips felt wonderful and had a salty taste from her tears. I took a deep breath and smelled a mixture of flowers and cinnamon. Even after working, cleaning up the apartment, she smelled great. She was still in her bra and panties, and I put my hand on her waist, feeling her soft skin. I recognized the softness; she used body lotion, like my wife. Our lips remained locked for a minute before she pulled back and announced she was headed to bed.

She walked out of the room and into the bedroom. We never discussed sleeping arrangements, so I was unsure what to do. I was in charge of her, so I suppose I should sleep in my bed with her. However, I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. My feelings conflicted with what Brenda told me Crimson expected of me. I wanted to strangle Mr. Wallace. This was torturing me, and it was only over where I was to sleep.