The newspapers told how the gallant policeman had cornered the Pimlico Rapist after a tip off, and how the knife wielding villain had gone into the Thames following a tussle; his body swept away conveniently down to the estuary by the flood tide, serving him the justice he avoided from the law.
P C Barnett had received the highest commendation for his bravery in bringing the rapist to a swift end; chancing on him in the act in an alleyway close to the embankment, his poor victim, Millie Barber, having the strength and foresight to remain conscious and witness the constable give chase. The reality of the outcome was far from what the papers had been led to believe by the statement of the unknowing rape victim and the word of a pillar of society.
Barnett was no stranger to the society led by one Ella Hempleton, and despite the robust masculine nature of his employment, loved uto serve the women and was always seeking to earn favour from Ella's associates. Securing a rapist was an opportunity too good to pass. He had caught the male quite easily, despite he fearing the severe penalty of the rope at Newgate he faced; he had stumbled shorty after bolting down an alley which opened onto the misty side of the Thames. It was as though he were tired of running. When subdued he was amazed to be met and transported by a hansom cab, the driver of which winked at the constable with a knowing grin, the policeman then blowing his whistle for assistance before leaving in the cab with him.
He was delivered not to Bow Street or the like, but through the gates of an institution which he would learn was Arachne House. The cuffed male was met not by burly police officers, but by stern women who held him on his knees while Barnett advised of his crime. His grave expression was tinged with a perverse pleasure, the reward for which would be ample.
'This beast is a rapist. One for Madam Agnes Fairchild. I am sure she is ready for a hanging.' The bewildered male was dragged into a treatment room by several more women, his cock erecting in the strange and foreboding atmosphere as he was stripped. They did not smile as had the constable. The Head Matron choosing a thick rattan and showing it to the squirming rapist who, now naked and strapped to a bench, began to protest.
'Please ... Madam ... I... ' One of the nurses almost raised a smile as he was gagged smartly with a leather strop, he would be allowed no comment and no mercy would be shown him. Matron flexed the rattan as she turned to Barnett, his cock stiffening as he surveyed the magnificent woman whose sadism with the cane he had sampled most willingly, unlike the nervous and fearful wretch whose fate was now sealed.
'Thank you Barnett, Ms Hempleton and Ms Fairchild will know of your gallant capture, and of the risk you have taken; I too will not forget the impudence on your face, I shall have you explain later in private. You must return to the scene swiftly to secure your plot, and seek the wellbeing of his victim.' The constable's cock peaked rigid as he dropped to his knees and kissed the stern woman's plain black boots, astounding the bound rapist who now squirmed in fear. Matron flexed the cane with a steely look as the constable quickly worshipped her boots, a smiling and equally severe nurse lifting his gagged head by his hair to witness the power of womanhood, a power he would soon worship albeit briefly, having earned the right to know it in the basest of circumstances in their eyes. The Matron surveyed the quivering flesh as the constable moved to make his exit.
'Oh yes, he will hang most pleasingly, displayed expertly by Mistress Fairchild. Hanging and castration await him ... after he has been broken and prepared sufficiently.' Barnett left reluctantly, as the nurses bustled eagerly to acquire their own canes, and the whooshing sound of cuts to flesh filled the room he departed. His mind was now filled with the Matron's promise, but he had to cover his tracks. The cab made all haste southward, and the grinning cabbie accepted his enlarged tip with the usual pleased wink.
Barnett could see many torches through the misty gloom, and ran with his hardest effort a hundred yards or so in the opposite direction, descended the first convenient stone steps down to the swirling Thames and stepped carefully down to his thighs in the chill brown water before ascending again. He then ran toward the lights and greeted his fellow officers, a large band now swarming about the alleyways. A fat sergeant wrinkled his walrus like moustache at the wet state of the constable.
'Where the hell have you been Barnett - bloody Essex and back?' The gasping constable, had his story ready; the image of the stern Matron in the back of his mind, watching over him to ensure he made it a convincing one.
'Might as well have been sarge ... he ducked and dived for a good half mile, then the idiot tried to jump from one lighter to another ... went in, tried to get him out, then he was gone. Went back up to the embankment and tried to keep track; saw him a couple of times, up for air and flailing, then he went under for good after five minutes or so.' The sergeant swallowed the tale hook line and sinker; convenient too, no accommodation required, less paperwork.
'Serve the bastard right. Drowning in the Thames much more suitable than a nice clean rope.' Barnett's cock rose in his damp trousers as he thought how much the rapist would have preferred the tale to be true; the hanging he faced would be no swift and clinical drop to a quick dispatch, he would know the full pleasure of the rope, and would be begging to endure it following his preparation by the ladies of Arachne House.
Barnett then sought out the woman who had been attacked; he was guided by others to a house near the alley where a doctor looked over her. The doctor was shown the constable who had intervened as he covered the sedated woman with a blanket and left her with a nurse. He pulled Barnett to one side.
'Miss Barber was infiltrated, but the rapist did not reach his total pleasure, thanks to you. She is in shock, but not as traumatised as some women would have been; did you apprehend the villain?' Barnett looked over to the woman who lay back and gave him a gentle smile.
'No, I did not, but he will not trouble any women anymore; he has been taken to hell.' The doctor gaped as the sergeant arrived behind him and held the doctors arm as Barnett moved toward the woman.
'The Thames has him; no place for a swim at high tide, we won't see him again, unless it's in Kent or Essex maybe!' Barnett approached the woman and was astounded by her calmness; she was forthright about her experience, more so when the nurse departed for a moment after the constable had related upon the attacker's demise.
'I'm glad that he's gone, but feel cheated that he has escaped the public spectacle of being known, humiliated, and justly punished; I would have appreciated the benefit of being outside Newgate when he was hanged.' Barnett sensed that this was a formidable woman, and one who may indeed benefit from the truth in more ways than one.
'Let me take all your details, he may have err ... survived, you never know, and besides, I would like to have the women of a benevolent society visit you, to make sure you are recovered.' She looked at him in a puzzled way, sensing something might not be the way it seemed, groaning slightly as she moved from the exertions she had encountered; she felt more and more hatred for her assailaint.
'I'll do so, as long as they are not from any religious foundation?' Barnett almost smirked, quickly checking himself due to the gravity of the situation.
'Oh, the ladies concerned are far removed from any given religion.'
Agnes Fairchild was already nicely aroused when she arrived at Arachne House. She had dressed in jet black silks and satins to attend the object of her desire, two stern female assistants accompanied her and were dressed in like fashion as they strode eagerly from the cab. Hanging males was what she lived for, mock hangings were practiced on willing and submissive males frequently, courtesy of her quickly erected gallows which were an eternal attraction at society ladies dinner parties; the 'Master' of the house, tried by women, found guilty by women, and suspended on the rope in submissive ecstasy until they passed out. Quite often 'the condemned' would be unaware of the proceedings until led leashed by the cruel Mistress to watch the inviting scaffold erected; they would then be subjected to the women's pleasure, teased cruelly about having reached the end of their use as a pet, and not knowing the truth they would sometimes beg for mercy, heightening the arousal and spite of the women wonderfully.
The males were taken to the epitome of submissive ecstasy, stripped naked, tightly bound, gagged to prevent their pitiful pleas, and butt plugged to prevent defecation; those unaware of the proceedings provided the greatest pleasure for the women, hoods were never used, and the trussed male's face would show his divine realisation that he was truly hanged as the trap dropped. He would in turn be treated to the deep sadistic pleasure shown on those women's faces as he danced for their enjoyment. Many would delight the women by spending spontaneously on the rope, immersed in utter submission.
.... There is more of this story ...