Baker Street: The Mystery of the Black Dove: Erotic Fetish Tales Read online

  Baker Street: The Mystery of the Black Dove

  Skye Knizley

  Hot Ink Press

  Contents

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Warning

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  To Be Continued

  The right of Skye Knizley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, items, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by: Dreams2Media

  Edited by: Elizabeth A. Lance

  Copyright © 2017 Skye Knizley

  Locke Holmes, Jena Watson and Club Baker Street are property Skye Knizley

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Hot Ink Press

  Introduction

  The Underground Fetish Scene. To most, it is merely a collection of oddities, from piercing and body modification to leather, latex and pain.

  For Locke Holmes and Jena Watson, it is home. They call their club Baker Street, a place where nearly anything and everything fetish is welcome, where the most powerful men in America submit to their wildest fantasies in the deep dungeons, school marms let their hair down and their heels up and fashion models get those barely there piercings glimpsed in photo spreads.

  But within the halls and mazes beneath Chicago lie mysteries, cases no vanilla police detective would dare touch. When the child of a lucrative client is found murdered, Locke and Watson are the only ones who care enough to investigate. But what is the Black Dove, and what does it have to do with the gruesome death of Alex Greene's child?

  Baker Street: The Mystery of the Black Dove

  Erotic Fetish Tales from Skye Knizley

  WARNING

  This story contains themes of BDSM, fetish and fantasy. It is an erotic story and there is, well, there is sex, if I’m blunt. Pretty damn good sex, really, but still sex. It doesn’t fade out like a typical Skye Knizley novel. It is right there, in your face. F/f, FF and yes there is a transgender woman.

  Seriously…if you keep reading you will encounter scenes of whips, chains, naked body parts and people bumping uglies. If that isn’t what you are looking for, please turn back now and read a different Skye Knizley tale. We won't be offended and don't want you to be.

  You've been warned…

  1

  Locke brushed an errant strand of dark auburn hair from her eyes and stepped back to admire her work. Jena, her lithe blonde partner, stood in tight black latex that shone like a mirror. It covered her booted feet, raced beneath a matching corset at her waist and ended just below her chin, where it vanished beneath a high black leather collar that covered the zipper and kept the latex catsuit from being removed. A slim ring of polished silver hung from the front of the collar, ready to hold a leash or anything else Locke felt was necessary.

  Jena’s long blonde hair was pulled into pigtails held in place with strips of pink silk, and cosmetics had been applied to accentuate her almond-shaped eyes and flawless lips. She was a perfect latex doll.

  “How does that feel, Kitten?” Locke asked.

  Jena ran her hands over her waist and smiled. “Tight, Mistress. And delicious.”

  Locke returned the smile and clipped a leash to Jena’s collar. “I will tighten it further as the night progresses. Come, I will let you help me dress, our guests will be arriving soon.”

  Locke led Jena from their private playroom on the third floor of Baker Street and down the corridor to the apartment they’d shared for the last two years. Though their relationship was born from their mutual interest in bondage and fetish, it had evolved into something far more than mere play. To say they were attached was to understate their relationship.

  While Locke considered the playroom, with its custom cages, pillories and toys, to be the centerpiece of their home, the apartment was a close second. The wide wooden door opened into a living room that looked as vanilla as any you might find, save that the furniture was all made of white leather, the tables of dark-stained wood and the floor was covered in what could only be called white fur. Locke liked the contrast of Jena’s dark leather and latex outfits with the white of the sofas and fur, and she was wealthy enough to indulge in her interests.

  Beyond the living room, through a door to the left, was the spacious kitchen where Jena cooked their meals. It had been specially designed so that Jena, or another submissive, could be locked to sliding rails, unable to leave the kitchen without permission. Locke had placed Jena in such a predicament more than once during parties. It kept her focused on her hostess duties, which she excelled at…when she paid attention.

  Down a short hallway were three additional rooms. One was a guest bathroom, most often used by those Locke and Jena invited to their monthly parties, as well as the occasional play-partner they brought home. The other two included Jena’s bedroom, now used only when she was being punished, and the master bedroom they shared most nights. It was here that Locke guided Jena. She stopped outside the door and unlocked it with a key from the ring she carried at her waist. Only Locke and Jena had keys to their inner sanctum, it was their first unbreakable rule.

  Inside was a large bedroom that looked more like it belonged on a movie set than inside an apartment. In the center was a round bed big enough for five people. Locke knew it to be so, because that was how many fit during their last party. The bed was currently covered in white satin sheets, though it would be Jena’s duty to change them later once Locke had decided on a color.

  The floor was covered in soft white carpet and the walls were of wood stained a light color to make the room brighter. Frames of black and steel held photographs of the couple in various locations around the world. Locke cherished these above everything except Jena and perhaps her work outside the club. They were the memories that formed the basis for their relationship, and, if one looked closely, they would see a progression from their earliest photographs to their most recent. In each they wore some form of restraint, from day-collars that passed as fashionable chokers, to their more recent custom-made steel cuffs. Jena was the only one that Locke allowed to restrain her, their second unbreakable rule. The photos were kept here because no one knew Jena was Locke’s pet, they knew her only as Locke’s doctor, a façade they kept hidden behind masks and gags. Tonight was to be the official announcement.

  There were three doors from the room, Jena’s closet, Locke’s closet and the master bathroom. Locke unclipped Jena’s leash and nodded at the bathroom.

  “Run me a bath, cinnamon bubbles if you please, Kitten.”

  Jena bowed and scurried off to do as she was bid. Locke watched Jena’s ass sway in the tight latex and felt herself go warm and wet. Jena had a body that was made for latex and leather, but that was only part of the reason Locke loved her.

  She sighed happily and entered her closet. There had to be something she could wear that would complement Jena’s simple latex. After a moment she selected a black garment bag from the collection and joined Jena in the bathroom. She sighe
d again when she saw Jena kneeling beside the deep whirlpool tub, brush and toys in hand. They didn’t have time to play.

  Two hours later, Locke again leashed Jena and led her out of the apartment. Locke had chosen a leather dress tight enough to show a pimple. The skirt ended well above her knees and left her stocking-covered legs bare. Black opera pumps adorned her feet and she’d added a small black top hat and veil, along with leather gloves that reached nearly to her armpits. Locking silver cuffs that matched Jena’s adorned her wrists and she wore a choker of the same material, a symbol of her bond with Jena.

  At the end of the hall she rang for the elevator and turned to look at Jena, who shifted in her boots.

  “Jena my pet, there is no need to be nervous,” Locke said.

  Jena kept her eyes on the floor. “Yes, Mistress.”

  Jena’s voice shook, even with such a simple phrase. Locke frowned and raised Jena’s chin so she could look into her eyes.

  “Jena, rules off. What’s wrong?”

  Jena raised her eyes and relaxed somewhat. “I’m scared, honey. This is the first time I’ve gone in public as your pet, the first time without a mask, where people will know it is me.”

  Locke released Jena’s chin and kissed her ever so gently. “I understand, love. I want our friends to know you are mine, that Jena Watson is my girlfriend and pet, but I understand if you want to hold off.”

  Jena bit her lip. “I want them to know, too. But what if−”

  Locke pressed a finger to Jena’s lips. “No 'what if', Jena. They already love you as Kitten. They will love you as you, too. But for now, the choice is yours.”

  Jena sighed and paced a few steps away. Locke let her leash run through her fingers without comment. Jena needed space to think.

  After a moment, Jena paced back and leaned in to kiss Locke. It was a gentle, loving kiss, careful enough not to smear their lipstick. When they parted, her eyes were bright and excited.

  “Yes, my love. I choose to reveal myself, with your permission,” Jena said.

  Locke smiled and tugged Jena’s leash. “So be it, Kitten. Rules on.”

  Jena’s eyes returned to the floor, and Locke guided her into the elevator that had been patiently waiting for them. She pressed the button marked C and the doors closed with a gentle thump. As the elevator descended, they passed through the thick layer of soundproofing that kept their apartment private. The distant sound of music became a comforting background noise, a deep bass-beat that made Locke want to dance.

  The doors opened and they walked through the wide corridors of the employee’s only area, passing a handful of employees dressed in the Baker Street uniforms. The men wore leather tuxedos matched with white gloves and red carnations, while the women were dressed in latex uniforms, the kind most people referred to as French maids. The staff greeted Locke and Jena warmly, most without a second glance at the unmasked Jena. Those who noticed simply smiled or whispered their congratulations, and Locke could tell their reactions pleased Jena.

  At the end of the corridor they stepped through a sound-proofed door and into the club proper. The band, a local group Locke had once done a job for, was playing on the stage. As soon as the singer saw Locke, he smiled and motioned to the band. They ended the song they'd been playing and switched to a favorite tune by Rob Zombie. Locke nodded her thanks and guided Jena through the crowd of leather and latex-clad dancers, most in some form of bondage gear, from simple cuffs just waiting to be locked all the way up to full hoods and gags. Locke paused to greet various people as they passed, offering her hand and accepting gentle kisses on her cheek or shoes, depending on the guest. In time she reached her throne and private suite. Both were set at the top of a short flight of steps behind a velvet rope. A line of VIP guests were waiting next to Wynter, the club's manager and cooler. He wore an outfit of white leather that contrasted with his dark skin and matched the Mohawk that trailed down his back. Locke stopped beside him and kissed his cheek.

  "Things are well?" she asked.

  Wynter inclined his head. "Indeed. There is a line of guests waiting, and you can see the offerings awaiting your attention. Business is good, Locke, enjoy the party."

  "Thank you." She offered him Jena's leash. "Take Kitten to her place, I wish to examine the offerings, my pet needs something to take the edge off."

  Wynter guided Jena away, giving Locke the opportunity to watch both their asses as they climbed the steps. Wynter wasn't into the lifestyle, this was just business, but he was an amazing partner. The club would fold without him and she knew it. It was a pity he was so faithful to his husband, Locke had heard he was even better in bed than he looked.

  She turned back to the group of hopefuls standing behind the rope. It was the usual mixture of submissives, most with the look of novices who at best had spent some time in an online relationship, but had never felt the real thing. Locke had no time for such people. There was a place for them, certainly, but she'd lost interest in novices years ago. It was more fun to push someone who thought they knew their limits than to push someone through their first sub-space experience.

  In the middle of the group was an attractive young woman with dark hair, dusky skin and eyes made up with the greatest care to accentuate their deep blue color. She was wearing as little as the club would allow in a short leather skirt that could have been mistaken for a belt, bra top made of chains and a collar with a small but business-like lock. There were pale, circular scars on her arms and the jagged scars of whips along her shoulders, old but still visible.

  Locke reached out with gentle fingers and tilted the girl's head back and forth. "You're beautiful."

  "Thank you, Miss." Her voice was husky, with a hint of silk.

  "My Kitten needs a playmate for the evening. Are you interested?" Lock asked.

  The girl inclined her head. "Yes, Miss. Anything to be near the Queen Couple."

  Locke tsked. "Never say 'anything' to a dominant, child. Many are true sadists who will take that as an invitation. Tonight is not a night of testing limits, it is a night of celebration. Come."

  The girl stepped out of line and Locke led her toward her private area. "What is your name, girl?"

  "What would you like it to be, Miss?" the girl asked.

  Locke stopped. "You're new to this, aren't you?"

  The girl looked down. "Somewhat. I only had one dominant. He trained me…"

  "I wouldn't call it that, girl. Never answer a dominant's question with a question, always respond to an order without question, clear?"

  The girl nodded. "Yes, Miss."

  Locke pursed her lips. "And stop calling me Miss. It's Mistress or Madame. Miss is not a term for dominants unless you're an idiot in playing in a virtual world."

  "Yes, Mistress."

  Locke smiled. "Better. Your name?"

  "Lexi, Mistress," the girl replied.

  Locke nodded. "Lexi. I like it. Come, Lexi, I wish you to meet Jena."

  She turned and continued up the steps. A dozen partiers, friends of both Locke and Jena were lounging around the play space, which was big enough to accommodate both a hanging cross and a St. Andrews cross, along with tables, comfortable chairs, Jena's polished chrome cage, and of course Locke's comfortable throne. The throne was one of their most ornate furnishings. It was large, big enough for both Locke and Jena. It was made of dark wood with black leather and polished steel hardware for leashing and chaining submissives. Jena knelt beside it on a leather cushion that was made just for her.

  Locke paused to greet the people nearest her friends then guided Lexi to the empty cushion beside her throne. Lexi knelt without a word and Locke reclined in her throne. She'd begun to sweat in her tight corset and leather. Though some of it was from the heat of the lights, most of it was from excitement. She was proud to reveal Jena to their friends, even more so because she could feel Jena's love and excitement, as well. Locke reached down to stroke Jena's hair and smiled at their friends.

  "Welcome to Baker Street once ag
ain, my loves. Kitten and I have an announcement. It is two parts, though one is obvious. Kitten?"

  Jena stood and climbed on top of the main table where everyone could see her. "Good evening, dearest friends and playmates. You have known me these long months as Kitten, Mistress Locke's personal pet. What you may not have known is my name. I am Dr. Jena Watson."

  There were a few gasps and cries of surprise from the crowd and Jena smiled. "Yes, that Dr. Watson, though I am moving to private practice as of Monday. Thank you all for your friendship and support these past years. You made it possible for me to come out, as it were."

  There was a round of applause and Jena returned to her spot beside Locke. Locke leaned down to kiss her cheek, then stood and moved to the center of the room. "Thank you, my dears. As I said, there is more than one announcement tonight, though I am sure my Kitten is puzzled as to the second. Lexi, please join me."

  Lexi stood and walked to Locke's side. Locke took her hand and kissed it gently. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Lexi, a new arrival. She is going to help with the announcement."

  The crowd applauded again and Locke detected a hint of blush beneath Lexi's dusky skin. Locke guided her across the floor to the St. Andrews cross. En route she whispered, "Lexi, my pet, do you have any limits about being restrained or pleasured in public by my Kitten?"

  Lexi slowed. "No problems with either, Mistress, but I am not−"

  Locke cut her off. "I know, Lexi, and both Kitten and I will love you."

  Lexi's flush deepened and she stepped onto the X-shaped cross. Locke went through the process of restraining her with a series of locking leather straps. She talked as she worked, addressing the crowd.

  "Kitten has no idea what is about to happen, which, as you know, is part of the fun. Lexi has some inkling, but I am sure this is going to be a surprise for her, as well."