Detective with Spread Legs

When the phone woke Sara at 7:08 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 even bother checking the caller ID when she answered.

"This is important I hope," she said to whoever was calling.

"Is this Detective Delaney?" a man with a thick British accent asked.

"Speaking."

"You don't know me. But I know you and need your help. It's quite urgent."

The message was enough to rouse her from a groggy state. She sat upright in bed and paid closer attention. On occasions, she'd get these types of anonymous calls and they usually ended up being nothing. Other times they led to big cases.

"Who is this?" she asked with renewed interest.

"My name is Richard Burrwell. You may have heard of me."

Burrwell was a man who was often featured in local television and media reports. Many people loved him. Others hated him. He was a wealthy, middle-aged British man who made a fortune in real estate using questionable tactics.

"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 offered.

"Mr. Burrwell, I don't do private work."

"I don't think you fully understand the gravity of the situation. My wife's been taken from me and you're the person best suited to help, given the nature of your recent investigations."

It only took a split-second before Sara made the connection. Her division had been going after a shadowy cult, which engaged in drug induced sexual practices and hypnosis to bring members closer to their spiritual leader. Of course, they also emptied the bank accounts of members along the way.

Their suspected crimes included blackmail, extortion, and violent threats against members who wished to leave.

Over the past year, progress had been made on the case and there were some strong leads, but ultimately they lacked the hard evidence necessary to bring charges that would hold up in court. Witnesses constantly changed their stories or refused to cooperate.

"You seem to know a lot about me already," she said. "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."

Like many good detectives, Sara relied on her gut instincts. And right now, she believed Richard Burrwell was telling the truth. She also sensed this case would involve bending the rules. It was a risk worth taking.

To no surprise, Burrwell had a chauffeur ring her doorbell while they were still on the phone.

Sara Delaney Investigates

Sitting in the backyard of a private estate was the last thing Sara expected that weekend morning. She was dressed casually for the informal breakfast meeting and regretted it. The place was lavish and she almost felt classless in her jeans and tight jacket.

Mr. Burrwell seemed eager to make small talk and she didn't bother rushing him. In her experience, people caught up in nasty business needed to find their comfort zone before revealing their secrets.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, taking an abrupt turn in their conversation.

"No, I haven't."

"Well, I love my wife very much. Her name is Parmveer. We first met when I was on a business trip to India, almost 20 years ago, and she was the daughter of a government Minister. After sitting next to each other at a formal event, that was it. She is the absolute love of my life."

"Has she been kidnapped?"

"Something like that," he said with a slow, regretful nod.

"What can you tell me about the people who have taken her?"

"They can be ruthless at times," he replied. "I've heard stories of what happens to people who attempt to disavow them. They hurt people, you know."

"I assume we're talking about the occult group. Why did you join?"

Mr. Burrwell cringed, slightly. "Like most powerful men, sex has been my vice. I've always searched for 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 me could ever want."

Sara gave him a reassuring look, full of understanding and sympathy. But really, it was a well honed interview technique. She wanted the man to relax so he would be more comfortable talking.

"Does this group have a name?" she asked.

"Not to my knowledge."

"How did your wife become involved?"

"Parmveer 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 my fantasy, I suppose, to watch as she gets ravished by other men and women. Now she's been indoctrinated by these people."

"I know you don't want to hear this," Sara gently tried to explain. "But we need to get the police involved. A warrant can be quickly issued if you provide a sworn statement."

Mr. Burrwell shook his head. "You don't understand. The police can't get involved. These people know things about my financial affairs which could ruin my life."

"Are they directly blackmailing you?"

"It's just leverage. They always have leverage over their members. 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 with which Sara was very familiar. She knew she needed to tread carefully since the man in front of her was now the strongest lead she had on this case.

"What have they done with your wife?" Sara asked. "Are they hurting her?"

He shook his head. "They've filled her head with nonsense and she's been drugged out of her mind. 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."

Neither of them were surprised by this. They understood exactly what was at stake. The detective felt a pang of regret. If only she had worked a little harder, or dug a little deeper, maybe she could have cracked this group months ago. She did her best to push those negative thoughts from her mind.

"I'm assuming you have a plan," she stated. "You obviously brought me here for a reason."

A cold expression clouded his face. "First, I have to ask, what's the furthest you've ever pushed your sexuality?"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "None of your business."

"It's relevant to my plan. You're an attractive woman, detective. And it's my understanding that you're highly ambitious. How far are you willing to push in order to reach your goal?"

It was a question which Sara had never been asked and which she never considered. It left her dumbfounded.

"I don't have an answer to that," she replied honestly.

"You better find the answer. And soon. Tonight could be our last chance."

"And if we don't?"

"The effects on my wife could become irreversible."

Sara hardened her expression. "Mr. Burrwell, from this point forward, I'll need your full cooperation and complete honesty. Okay?"

"Okay," he nodded.

"Tell me about your plan. In detail."

"We'll go together," he said. "You'll be my date in disguise and help me free my wife. After, you can do whatever the hell you want with your police. Just leave me out of it."

Sara leaned back in her chair and thought. Today was supposed to be relaxing. She had planned to go for a long jog in the park and then buy gifts for her nieces. But suddenly here she was, facing a task for which she wasn't prepared.

"With your money, you can hire anyone," she stated the obvious. "There's plenty of private detectives and former military ops specialists who are available for hire. Why me?"

"To be blunt, I need a woman with your tits and long legs. This group won't be able to resist your beauty. Their suspicions will be lower. And because of your work ethic. I've read all your files and I understand your mind. You are well suited for this type of undercover project."

"Actually, you're wrong. I'm sorry Mr. Burrwell, without the police, I can't do it."

"I will get the evidence you need to close this case."

Now Sara was interested again. "Explain."

"I'm the king of real estate in this city," he proudly stated. "I know people. I have connections. Bank documents, tax information, transactions, contracts, I can mail everything to you, anonymously, of course. 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."

The offer changed everything. Sara wasn't a greedy person, but she was practical. And she was tired of coming up empty handed against people who belonged in prison. She became a police officer to make a difference, not to waste her time building cases that never even got to court.

"I won't take your money," she said, not bothering to explain herself. "But if you can give me those documents... then maybe we can keep talking..."

"Follow me."

***

In a room inside the manor, there were paintings on the wall, artworks of human and animal hybrids. Sara had seen some of these before, others were new to her.

"I never believed in any of these things," he explained. "Frankly, I never cared. I was only interested in the sex. But these people believe we need to embrace our animal instincts. That's what makes them so dangerous."

They went to the desk, where several syringes were neatly arranged, each containing a clear liquid substance.

He continued, "The group always drugs people as they enter the building. I was able to hide some, and thanks to my vast connections, I had scientists reverse-engineer their drug to create an antidote."

"Is it safe?" she asked, looking at the syringes. "Has it been tested?"

"It will work. You should be immune to their drugs and stay clear headed. They won't attempt to hypnotize or exert mind control until much later, when they've decided they want to own you."

"How dangerous is their drug?"

"It's a powerful stimulant to enhance the experience, sexual and spiritual. It's why I was addicted to that place, along with the others. The allure was too strong. It was absolute euphoria each time."

She sensed regret from Mr. Burrwell, as the gravity of the situation became clearer. Sara was being offered a chance to infiltrate the sex cult, but she would be exposing herself to a series of potentially compromising sexual situations along the way.

She had a vague understanding of the cult from past witnesses she had interviewed. They embraced nudity, orgies, bondage, dominance and submission.

Going undercover was something Sara Delaney had done many times in her career with mixed results, but she was comfortable in the field. She had the nerves and quick wit that came in handy.

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 to study a picture on the wall.

"If you want to decline, I can understand," he said, looking at the photo of his wife during happier times. "But this will get done no matter what. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should hire someone who will do this by any means necessary."

She watched a strong, confident man show his vulnerable side. She knew he was contemplating a more violent course of action, and as a police agent, she couldn't allow that to happen.

"I'll help you," she said softly, almost in a whisper.

Mr. Burrwell turned to look at her. "Thank you."

***

It was always the dangerous assignments that made Sara reflect on her life. All those 'what ifs.' Life would have been different if she had listened to her mother and become a teacher or a nurse. Maybe she'd be married by now, with a family of her own.

Instead, she was naked in Mr. Burrwell's guest bathroom, drying her freshly colored hair. She had been given all the necessary tools to change her appearance. God forbid anyone at the sex party would recognize her.

She knew how to doll herself up, thanks to growing up with a fashionable older sister. As she put on the makeup that had been supplied, her boyish appearance faded and she transformed into a glamorous, sexy woman.

It was 2:17 pm and Sara slipped on a sleek black dress, admiring her appearance in the mirror. It accentuated her toned figure and the expensive stilettos highlighted her shapely legs.

Not bad for a cop, she thought, looking in the mirror. Not bad at all. She looked gorgeous and felt confident.

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 detective. He stood and marveled as he approached her.

"How do I look?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Simply ravishing," he admired. "You're a sparkling gem of a woman. Once this is finished, I will be forever in your debt."

"First, we need to get your wife out of there and that won't be easy."

He nodded. "It might be easier than you think. Tell me, Detective Delaney, are you a submissive woman?"

"What do you think?"

He looked her over. "I think you prefer being the dominant. Both in your workplace and bedroom. But I also think you have another side. A sexual side which you keep repressed to maintain your 'tough girl' image. Maybe you're open to surrendering your sexual power if the situation is right."

"You're not far off," she acknowledged.

"Have you been the submissive before?"

"Sure. I won't go into detail, but yes."

"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 nodded. "Sex is an artform. And believe me, the people we're dealing with are masters at their craft. Their world is sex. And they are the gods. Have I lost your support yet?"

"You don't know me very well."

"Why is that?"

"I don't quit," she replied with confidence.

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 cult, 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 cult leaders were ruthless.

This was something Sara had never encountered in her law enforcement career, nor had she been trained for this at the police academy. Worse, none of her colleagues would be there for back-up. This was essentially a solo mission.

Even though Mr. Burrwell would be accompanying her, she'd have to do things on her own. The cult liked to separate new members and test them in every way possible.

Would they ask her a series of questions?

Sara's nerves were strong and she had a great ability for sticking to a backstory. In another life, she could have been an actress. That's why she was so successful as a former undercover vice agent. Being asked a series of probative questions wouldn't be a serious problem.

Would they get her naked?

Sara had been warned of the nudity at the cult gatherings. Often times it was required. If necessary, she was ready. Sara had a great body and she was proud of it (thanks to her vigorous workout routine).

Would they touch her?

Sara was a woman with intimacy issues. Because of past lovers, she had long been aware of that fact and even discussed it with police department psychologists. Some things are hard to get over and this was one of her weaknesses.

Would they try to fuck her?

God forbid. Sara could handle seeing an orgy or two. But actually being fucked during one? It was hard to imagine and she 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 amount of antidote hidden inside the center gemstone.

"This is for my wife," he explained. "Open it. Put it inside her mouth. I don't care how you do it. Just get it done."

She nodded and put on the necklace.

"I will."

Next came the syringes containing the counter-drug.

"I can't promise how effective this will be," Mr. Burrwell said. "But at least it will provide you with a layer of protection, enough to keep your head clear so you can think."

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 the man, enough to allow him to stick a needle in her arm, with god knows what inside.

Sara felt free. She was about to pursue justice without the constraints of lawyers, courts, and bureaucrats. She loved the adrenaline rush and the thrill of danger.

As the fluids in the syringe drained into Sara's blood stream, her mind was in a state of complete focus.

"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 want to hear the answer," she said.

"Parmveer could have any man she wants. I don't know why she chose me. Maybe I'll never know. She always stood by me. I'll always stand by her. To answer your question, detective, Parmveer is my angel. I love her dearly. And I want her back."

She nodded. "That's all I needed to hear."

Sara Delaney is Naked

Her heels clicked on the elaborate brick staircase as she walked up to the front entrance of the manor. Noticing other club members checking out her body made her feel powerful. She had certainly dressed for the part, wearing only the black slip dress and stilettos.

Two security guards immediately verified Burrwell's identity and they were allowed to enter. Burrwell thanked the men and they crossed the threshold into the lion's den.

She knew, from her police work, that this exclusive club was highly selective when it came to its members. Only the most rich and famous were granted access. From a distance, this appeared to be a stately manor, much like the others in this portion of the city. Reports indicated that the cult currently operated on the lower levels of the estate.

Music blared as scores of people mingled in the massive front hall and adjoining areas. Sara hadn't been to a club since her days in college, so this was an experience that took some getting used to, especially since she knew what lay ahead for her that evening.

People tended to their conversations and flirtations, there was dancing and drinking, and occasionally she saw eyes roaming her body with overt appreciation. They probably figured her to be an escort since she was with a much older man.

At the elevator, another security man let them enter.

Once the doors opened to the lower floor, the atmosphere was completely different. The first thing she noticed was a strange golden symbol painted on the back wall of what appeared to be a sedate place of worship. She had seen the intricate design before at the police station when a former witness provided a sketch.

Under the symbol was what appeared to be an altar, made of stone. From the ceiling hung elaborate chandeliers, holding crimson candles instead of lightbulbs. The candlelight produced exaggerated shadows of the occupants around the room. Burning incense and violin music rounded out the religious vibe.

Sara felt an unwelcome increase in her heartbeat as things felt real. If she was smarter, she wouldn't have agreed to this. But it was too late for that.