The Case of the Blackmailed Lesbian


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by John Savage

Every great Private Investigator has to start someplace.  This is the story of that famous PI, Sled Speed, and the case that started him on his fabulous career.  It involves a pair of drop-dead gorgeous lesbians and a blackmailer who gets greedy and wants more.  As with all Sled’s cases, there are beautiful women in peril and Sled, naturally enough, cannot sit back and do nothing when he knows there’s a beautiful woman in distress.  Can he come to the rescue before the kidnapper does his worst?  Will the young woman suffer anything worse than confinement, harsh treatment and strict bondage?  Not if Sled can help it…


I was smiling as I left the hotel room.  My visit with Miss Sanderson had been most productive.  Of course, she hadn’t cooperated at first, but the old Sled Speed charm and smooth talking soon had her singing like a canary.

I was looking for one Cliff “Mad Dog” Ivers, and Miss Honey Sanderson just happened to be his current girlfriend.  Mad Dog might have been only a two-bit petty thief freshly graduated to major crimes, but he had a taste for prime, grade-A female flesh, I’ll give him that.  She filled out that blouse and tight jeans very nicely.

Upon seeing me standing there in the hotel doorway instead of her boyfriend, she tried to slam the door in my face.  I kicked it open, slammed it shut behind me, and proceeded to wrestle her to the bed.  It was only a matter of a minute and I had her hands tied behind her back and was pushing her face into the pillow.  Experiencing some degree of difficulty in breathing, she got the idea quickly enough and ceased struggling and trying to scream at me.  I let her up enough to breath, then flipped her over onto her bound arms.  I’ll admit, it was so distracting to see her chest rise and fall as she panted, that I almost forgot why it was I came to have a talk with her.

Just to keep her from kicking me, I straddled her legs and pinned her to the bed.  After a few choice curses directed my way, she calmed down enough to let me get a question in edgewise.

“Where’s Mad Dog?”

“Go to Hell.”

Now, I’m not a big one on slapping a helpless dame around, but I also didn’t feel like discussing this issue rationally and calmly in hopes of appealing to her sense of justice and fair-play.  I mean, some people, you gotta slap them around a little just to get their attention, you know?

It took only one slap to make her cheek nice and red, and make her see the wisdom of cooperation.

“One more time,” I told her.  “Before I get rough with you.  Where’s Mad Dog?”

Those green eyes flared anger but I also saw what I was looking for: fear.  She could sense that Sled Speed was one rough customer not to be fucked with.  She talked.  Mad Dog, it turned out, was at the house he had just rented.  And probably with a friend of his, Nick the Trigger.  Amazing the names these criminals come up with.

I pulled out a little more rope from my pocket (always keep some handy), and began to bind her ankles together.

“Aren’t you gonna fuck me first?” she asked.  I think she was being a bit sarcastic, but it was hard to tell from the expression on her face.  It was a seductive grin.

“What’s the matter, Mad Dog ain’t givin’ you enough?”

“Mad Dog is a prick,” she opined.  I refrained from pointing out that was a pun, considering what she was asking for.  Then she smiled at me and added, “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you glad to see me, big boy?”

She had me there.  Having wrestled her to the bed, part of me had become interested in that sexy little package.  “Well, if you insist…” I said as I unzipped my fly.

When she saw how interested I was, she muttered, “I insist!” and tried to spread her legs.  I forgot about binding her feet and was busy getting those tight jeans pulled down.  Didn’t take long and quickly as that we were doing the horizontal tango on the mattress.  As it usually happens, she found my massive tool and manly staying power most pleasing.  All in all, it was a good ride for both of us.

Afterwards, I took the rope and bound her ankles together.  She was sort of dreamy and a little spaced out at that point and didn’t even seem to notice when I rolled her over onto her stomach and turned the bondage into a nice, tight hogtie.  Then I rolled up her panties and shoved them into her mouth.  I tied the gag in place with some thin cord cut from the curtains.

I wasn’t being cruel in binding her tightly — well, maybe a little — but I didn’t want her calling Mad Dog to warn him I was coming.  I figured that the hogtie would hold her for a few hours, probably more.  When Sled Speed ties a woman, she stays tied.

Now you understand the smile on my face as I left the hotel room and made towards an appointment with Mad Dog.


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