Femme Equilibrium.Co: the Mr Motor Case

by Midsummerman

Copyright© 2011 by Midsummerman

BDSM Sex Story: These are the tales of a private agency which restores the equality of feminine individuals, by seeking out errant males and making them realise the error of their ways.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Consensual   Reluctant   Coercion   Heterosexual   Fiction   BDSM   FemaleDom   Spanking   Humiliation   Black Female   .

Detective Sparks arrived shortly after the forensic team had completed their tasks. The body hanging there could be removed shortly. He looked at the male corpse, bound hand and foot, the back and buttocks striped with red, a pair of woman's panties hanging from a mouth which belonged to a now ashen grey face. He imagined this would have gone from purple to blue as the rope did its business.

A pretty forensics team member scuttled about, retrieving her equipment, oblivious to the ghastly sight which hung above her. Sparks fired the question.

"So was it murder, or a bad BDSM night?" The pretty blonde looked up at the dead meat and then to the detective, smiling.

"Not sure, but he sure had some fun before he went; in my experience, judging by the mess on the floor, he had his pleasure at least 3 times before he died. One thing's for certain; it wasn't suicide." Sparks gestured at the panties;

"Did they tell you anything?" The girl smiled, almost victoriously,

"Oh they were on a woman's body before he ate them, if that's what you mean; I'd say she'd got pretty excited too." She giggled. Sparks didn't smile back, he'd seen many a grisly murder before and knew forensics people just got on with it, but was astounded at her almost cruel mockery. She stood still and looked him in the eye, then winked.

"Maybe he had it coming to him; most men are animals after all." Sparks' cock tingled at her words as he watched her shapely behind disappear down the hall.

Across town, another shapely rear was eased into a soft bed, followed by luxuriously long but weary legs which had just left the shower. A slender hand picked up the phone by the bed. The pre-set number jingled through and a voice-mail announced; 'Femme Equilibrium.co is closed at this hour, please leave a message and your contact after the tone, this is important to us and may be important to you.' The tone buzzed;

"Hi, mission accomplished; the salesman's wife can sleep easy now, I'll be in about twelve." A soft face with long brown hair and blue eyes, nestled back on silken pillows and sheets, as her shapely body stretched in the comfort of the bed. She slept soundly, satisfied with her night's work.

Eva Hart arrived at Equilibrium's office at 9 am and smiled contentedly as she listened to the phone message. The newspapers were already full of stories about Harmon Banksworth's kinky death in a sleazy hotel. 'Mr Motors dies at hands of unknown dominatrix in fetish accident' read one of the less intellectual sheets. She would not be the only woman to raise a smile that morning.

Eva was now in her early fifties, still as stunningly attractive and elegantly feminine as she had been thirty years earlier; maturity had made her all the more appealing. Her curvy body with auburn hair and sharp blue eyes turned heads on a regular basis, and she was often plagued by would-be suitors who contacted her business with some spurious excuse re possible work.

Despite her outward appearance, she had had a tough time of life in her earlier years. As a child she was systematically abused by her stepfather; an alcoholic who died from exposure on falling asleep in a park one January, shortly after she was married. This was all the more bitterly ironic, as she had rushed into marriage at an early age, where she then found herself being beaten by a domineering husband twelve years her senior. He had beaten her when pregnant, making her miscarry and causing complications which meant she could no longer conceive.

After eight years of abuse she found the courage to leave him, and he had pursued her for another two, making her move on yet again out of necessity. She would never forget the terror she felt each time she returned to whatever residence after a day's work, in constant fear that he had found her yet again. She had cried with joy when she read that a man from outside town had been killed outright when his car was hit by a freight train at a local crossing.

Her experiences had left her with a healthy hatred for certain males, though she was not a man hater; she viewed them all individually as she did other women, and had enjoyed relationships of various intensities since, but had kept her independence. The experience had made her develop into a very assertive and dominant woman; she no longer feared men, and her greatest problem with them now, was deflecting the affections of those who would secretly wish to be enslaved by her.

Those experiences and the memory of her fear was what prompted her to set up Equilibrium; the business worked under the guise of a run-of-the-mill staffing agency for females. This side of the business did reasonably well, and helped fund the true purpose of the business. This was purely and simply a covertly run band of exceptional women who would wreak revenge on erring males.

Each covert contact would be vetted thoroughly and all applicants were bound to secrecy; all too often a 'case' would be one of simple adultery which, though not nice, did not warrant their involvement. Many a large and wrinkly well to do woman was to leave in disappointment after wishing castration or the like upon a middle aged man who had found something young and slender. They were brought politely down to earth and 'standard' agencies were recommended if divorce was to be sought. It was the female relations and acquaintances of men like Harmon Banksworth who were encouraged to come forward.

Banksworth was everybody's friend on the surface; he put it about that he was a self- made man who had built up a string of car dealerships through his own sweat and toil. The reality was he that had married a lady called Anne Sempler, whose elderly father owned those dealerships. He had lied left right and centre in order to secure the hand of Anne; his eye firmly on the assets which would need 'looking after' very shortly, judging by the condition of her father.

Though Anne saw through most of the lies, she was still won over by his slick charm and good looks, and he just wouldn't go away. She found socialising increasingly difficult as her mother had died and her Father needed constant attention. She could have employed nurses, but wanted to be with her father whilst she could. Her marriage to Harmon was almost inevitable.

Banksworth moved into the family home, and almost from the word go, started to treat Anne like a slave. He regularly forced himself upon her as was 'his right' as a husband. As her father faded away, she was no stranger to local infirmaries herself; she had her nose re-set twice, her jaw wired whilst the fracture healed on one occasion, and numerous sutures to eyebrows which accompanied garish purple and blue 'black eyes'.

He often brought timid young female employees home with him; threatening them with the sack if they did not co-operate with his lurid advances. After Mr Sempler died and he took control of the business, he spent more and more on call-girls and abused just as many employees, if not more than before. His rages against Anne were less frequent over the years, as other sordid attractions gained the majority of his attentions, but he still made her life a misery and beat her if she so much as spoke out of turn.

Anne had been approached by a black woman in business dress when at the hospital one day; the woman had seen her there before and guessed that her regularly received facial injuries were not down to her bad driving and it was apparent she had no issues with alcohol or drugs. The elegant woman with soft brown eyes was Charity Palmer; she handed her an Equilibrium business card. Though on the surface it advertised a staffing agency, it did refer to there being other aspects to the business. Charity explained what they were and not to be afraid to call if they could assist. Anne had kept the card close, and an event some ten months later had prompted a call for their services.

Banksworth had appeared one evening, the worse for alcohol with yet another timid young employee in tow. She was a sweet looking ginger haired girl of about nineteen, who would not have looked out of place in pigtails and white socks; she was that young and vulnerable. Anne grimaced when she saw the girl; the fear in her eyes was so apparent. She desperately wanted to assist in some way, but her jaw ached as if to remind her of the volatility of the man she had had the misfortune to marry. She kept close behind each door and listened, hoping she would find the courage to intervene if he went too far with the girl; he had done this too many times for her liking.

Anne heard him call her 'Jenny' several times and she almost giggled at his advances at first; though her tone was more of fear than frivolity. When it became apparent she was not going to accommodate his advances, his tone changed and he referred to her as 'Chambers', threatening her with that old chestnut; the sack. The name Jenny Chambers stuck in her mind.

Anne heard him slap her and then heard her crying and begging him not to hurt her. She felt sick to the stomach and knelt behind the door in shame, she could not find the courage to intervene. Banksworth grunted in that unmistakeable way which could only announce one function and the girl sobbed her heart out as she was consumed by fear. He virtually threw her out through the front door, after threatening to rearrange her face if she said a word to anyone. He then casually returned to drinking and watched the television.

When Anne went into the room in the morning, she found a tiny pair of panties on the sofa; she put them in the wash basket.

This had not been an extraordinary event by his standards, but Anne was to be left unable to forgive herself when she read the local paper three days later. The same old headlines about dire economics were there, but a column seemed to loom up from the paper and it hit her harder than Banksworth ever could. 'Parents heartbroken at mysterious tragedy of daughter. Jennifer Chambers, 19 was found hanging in the bedroom of her house in an apparent suicide.' To add grist to the mill, the article went on to say how her employer, Harmon Banksworth was saddened to hear of the tragedy, as Jenny had been like a daughter to him.

He had come home as she was tearfully reading the paper; when it was apparent what Anne was crying about, he slapped her that hard he knocked her over. As she lay there he promised she'd end up at the end of a rope if she mentioned to anyone that the Chambers girl had been there. Anne dialled the number on the card.

Charity Palmer and Blanche Reid sat in a car opposite the main dealership. The two had been watching the antics of Banksworth for some time, and did not like what they saw. In the ten days or so they had been surveying him, whilst making plans for him to meet with some unfortunate accident or other; he had put the fear of god into two more employees.

How did he get away with it without at least one of the employees going to the police? The question was answered shortly after, when a police car pulled up outside the showroom; two uniformed officers got out and walked in. Blanche looked through Banksworth's glass walled office with a digital telescope. Out of a draw came a wad of notes; it seemed as though Banksworth had everything covered.

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