Gillian Dixon’s trial had been running for four days and Annabelle Creighton was steadily building her case. A succession of witnesses provided the jury with evidence that Gillian had the motive, the means, and the opportunity for her to murder Lord Edward Beaumont.

It was alleged that she and Lord Edward were alone at the club and his body was found in Gillian’s office with her in attendance when the police arrived. Gillian had been seen arguing with Lord Edward on several occasions, often quite heatedly. She had the means to commit the murder. Despite the actual murder weapon not being found it was proven that Edward had been stabbed repeatedly with a letter opener of a type identical to those used in the club’s administration office by all the staff. Several witnesses admitted that Gillian possessed the same letter opener which she kept on her desk. It was missing when the police arrived and it was presumed that Gillian had somehow disposed of it.

Annabelle Creighton had her star witness called to the stand and sworn in.

“Doctor Stephenson what can you tell me about the examination of Ms Gillian Dixon?” Annabelle Creighton asked.

“At the police station she was placed in a sterile room and her clothes were removed, bagged, logged and entered into the evidence log,” Doctor Stephenson replied.

“And who did this?” she continued.

“A SOCO. A scene of crime officer removed and bagged the evidence and one of the on-duty police constables assisted by logging and entering the evidence into the log and establishing chain of custody,” he replied.

“Chain of custody ensures that evidence is handled only by authorised personnel, that the movement of the evidence is tracked and that the evidence is not tampered with correct?” Annabelle explained for the benefit of the jury.

“Correct,” the Doctor nodded his head emphatically.

British counsellors are allowed to lead witnesses unlike their American counterparts.

“And what else occurred in the sterile room?” Annabelle Creighton was getting visibly excited.

“Ms Dixon was swabbed orally and anally. Hair samples were taken and any physical evidence was removed from her body by the SOCO,” the doctor squirmed in his chair.

“She was swabbed orally for a DNA sample but why anally?” Gillian could hardly contain her glee at being able to ask the question.

She knew that she had the jury enthralled.

“Please milord,” Brian McCaffey rose from his seat.

“The motion has been ruled on mister McCaffey. The witness will answer,” Justice Sir Bradley Smithe QC said sternly.

“There were traces of what the SOCO thought to be semen in Ms Dixon’s underwear so it was possible that she had recently had intercourse,” Doctor Stephenson replied dryly.

“And?” Annabelle was determined to drag out the smutty details.

“And as the court is aware, Ms Dixon was issued a Gender Recognition Certificate changing her gender to female but she is transsexual. That is she still has a penis and therefore if she had intercourse it had to be anally,” the doctor was visibly uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

“And all of the forensic samples were sent to a laboratory for testing. What were the results?” Annabelle was on a roll.

“The blood on her clothing and body was positively identified as that of Lord Edward Beaumont,” the doctor replied.

“The swabs?” Annabelle was enjoying this; the jurors were leaning forward in anticipation of the answer.

“The anal swab was positive for Lord Edward Beaumont’s semen. The sperm were motive,” he sighed.

“Meaning it was fresh semen, recently ejaculated,” Annabelle was happy when the jurors muttered their distaste.

“Yes,” Doctor Stephenson replied.

“Nothing further of this witness milord,” Annabelle was smirking when she took her seat.

Brian McCaffey arose to begin his cross examination.

“You gave Ms Dixon a thorough medical examination, isn’t that right Doctor?” Brian McCaffey began.

“Yes I did. I gave Ms Dixon a full medical examination,” the doctor replied.

“Can you read the highlighted section of the report that you rendered please,” Brian said.

The doctor put on his glasses and read from the document given to him by the clerk of the court.

“The sphincter shows signs of bruising and the anus presents recent microscopic tearing,” the doctor took off his glasses.

“Indicating?” Brian wanted more detail.

“Indicating recent anal intercourse as I have attested,” the doctor said smugly.

Gillian got to her feet. For the first time in trial she was visibly angry.

“But wouldn’t those attributes indicate that the intercourse was forced? Non-consensual?” Brian was trying to drive home his point.

“Objection your honour!” Gillian called from the dock.

“Please remain silent Ms Dixon. This in not an American TV show. You cannot object,” the justice admonished her.

“But I directed my counsel not to cross examine any witnesses!” Gillian cried.

“Ms Dixon. I am aware of your direction to counsel but the question had been asked and it will answered. You may take up the terms of your defence with mister McCaffey at the next recess. Be seated or I will have a bailiff restrain you in the dock,” Justice Smithe was visibly angry.

Gillian was livid but she sat down, still fuming. She would be having stern words with Brian McCaffey when they next met.

“Please answer,” the justice said to the witness.

“The very nature of consensual anal sex often causes bruising and tearing, sometimes even bleeding, especially if it is vigorous or energetic,” the doctor answered smugly.

Brian McCaffey sat down defeated. He was hoping to at least prove that Gillian had not consented to sex with Lord Beaumont and use the fact as a means of mitigation if she was found guilty, but he had failed.

During previous testimony it was undeniably established that Gillian Dixon was the Manager of Fleur de Lis and that the club offered sexual services to its members and that Gillian was effectively a Madame of a high class brothel.

What was not testified in court was how Gillian became to be the Manager of Fleur de Lis.

“So do I work for both of you now?” Cecelia Flick asked Gillian.

“You work for whoever is on duty at the time. That’s me three days a week and Amanda four,” Gillian replied.

“But you’re the deputy and Amanda is still in charge?” Cecelia looked a little confused.

They were in the manger’s office with the door closed. The new arrangement had been in place for just over three months and as Gillian expected, Amanda was doing her best to undermine Gillian. Amanda would issue counter-directions and re-task the staff after Gillian had given then specific assignments, she’d cancel or amend orders that Gillian placed with the club’s suppliers, amend work rosters after Gillian had supervised drawing them up. Amanda was deliberately trying to prove to Alfie that the new arrangement wouldn’t work.

Gillian stepped into Cecelia, standing very close to her. She looked Cecelia up and down. Cecelia was wearing a navy-blue skirt, matching jacket, pink silk blouse, beige hosiery and black high heels. Gillian reached out and stroked Cecelia’s cheek; her face was round and pretty and framed by a short black bob; she had big blue eyes, a cute nose and full red lips.

Gillian was wearing the same clothes the had worn when they had first met. An ivory skirt and matching jacket, black long-sleeved silk Dior blouse and white high heels. Underneath she wore a white satin bra and panty set and shimmering, flesh-toned hold-up stockings.

“I’m in charge of you when I’m here,” her soft caress turned into an angry grasp.

Gillian pulled Cecelia close, tightening the grip on her chin. Gillian’s beatific smile turned venomous and her red lips curled down in a snarl.

“Do you get it you little cherub? Do you not understand that I am your superior in all things,” Gillian cinched Cecelia’s buttocks and dug in her nails.

“Answer me you simpleton!” Gillian’s mouth was millimetres from Cecelia’s and she squeezed both her face and bottom harder.

“Yes Mistress,” Cecelia whispered.

“I didn’t hear you,” Gillian’s lips were touching Cecelia’s.

“Yes Mistress,” she repeated herself.

Cecelia leaned into Gillian, attempting to kiss her. Gillian pushed her away and she staggered across the room and fell on the couch legs akimbo. She tried to straighten herself up and pull down her skirt.

“Stay like that! Don’t move unless I tell you! You are my chattel, my servant, I’ll do with you as I will,” Gillian had her back to the door to her office.

She locked it and strode over to where Cecelia lay cowering on the couch.

“I can smell your fear, your docility, your willingness to be used,” Gillian leaned over Cecelia.

Cecelia cringed and Gillian bought down an open handed slap on her face. Cecelia gasped with pain and her cheek reddened. She could feel herself becoming wet.

Gillian took a handful of Cecelia’s short black hair and dragged her to her feet. She led Cecelia over to the desk cowering and staggering on her heels and then she pushed Cecelia against the desk, bent her over and raised her skirt.

Cecelia was wearing transparent black nylon panties. Gillian grinned as she bought her hand down hard on Cecelia’s soft buttocks and was delighted to see the red weal through the translucent fabric.

“I’m sorry Mistress. I deserve to be punished,” Cecelia whined.

Gillian spanked Cecelia again, she was beginning to enjoy it. She was becoming uncomfortably erect. She lay into Cecelia three more times, each slap to the buttocks harder than the last.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Cecelia snivelled and tried to wriggle free.

The sight of Cecelia’s plump crimson red buttocks through her panties, wriggling and writhing was very stimulating. Gillian quickly ripped away her gaff and lowered her testes into her scrotal sac. She was fully erect and tented her skirt.

Gillian snatched Cecelia’s hair again and dragged her to the couch and forced Cecelia to lie down across her lap.

“You need to know that I am your superior, your magnate, your queen. Amanda is the stray kitten that I kick out of the way when I walk down the street, the insect I crush beneath my heel,” Gillian bought down her hand hard on Cecelia’s buttocks.

The pain flared again and then became a burning throb. The pain. The exquisite pain, the wonderful pain, sensuous seductive pain. Cecelia’s cunt was soaked, her nipples hard.

“You are my queen, my empress, my Mistress,” Cecelia writhed on Gillian's lap.

Gillian’s skirt had ridden up. Cecelia’s thighs were pressed against hers, both of the women were excited by the feel of their nylons rubbing together, the exotic swish of their stockings rasping in the quiet room. Gillian freed her erection from her panties and Cecelia felt it press on her thigh. It felt curiously erotic to feel another woman’s flesh on hers but also extraordinarily arousing to feel to experience a woman with a penis pressing against her legs.

Gillian thrust her hand into Cecelia’s pubis and squeezed her sex through her panties.

“You’re wet you bitch. You like this. You want more don’t you?” Gillian slapped Cecelia’s buttocks again.

“Yes Mistress; please. Give me more,” she begged.

Gillian pushed Cecelia off her lap and stood over her. To Cecelia looking up, the sight was astounding. The tall beautiful woman with the flaming red hair and icy-blue eyes standing over her, her legs spread wide, her white skirt rucked up around her waist and a huge erection poking from her panties.

Without being told Cecelia got on her hands and knees and raised her buttocks invitingly.

Gillian kicked Cecelia’s legs open and dropped between them. Without any preamble she tore off Cecelia’s knickers and thrust her cock deep into Cecelia’s hot, wet cunt.

Cecelia gasped as her first orgasm erupted.

“Fuck me you bitch!” Gillian pulled on Cecelia’s hair and ground against her.

Cecelia rocked on her knees, back and forth, driving Gillian’s cock deep inside her, her cunt clinging to Gillian’s throbbing flesh and then expelling the organ until just the tip Gillian’s penis was nestled in her labia. Cecelia rutted like a whore as Gillian held her hips in a vice-like grip and began to fuck her harder.

Cecelia came again, moaning like a slattern, begging Gillian to fuck her harder. Gillian slapped Cecelia’s buttocks, turning the milky flesh crimson. The harder she slapped the more Cecelia enjoyed it and thrust back against her.

Finally Gillian ground against Cecelia, holding her still, digging her nails into Cecelia’s thighs so hard that she laddered her stockings, her cock erupted deep inside Cecelia’s vagina. Cecelia’s screamed as her third and final orgasm radiated through her body, Gillian bit down on her lip to stop herself screaming. She stuck her fingers into Cecelia’s mouth to stifle her cries.

When Gillian’s orgasm finally subsided, she dismounted from Cecelia’s prone form and walked around in front of her. Cecelia’s head was bowed and she was gasping, still shaking. Gillian lifted Cecelia’s face.

“Clean your Mistress!” she ordered.

Cecelia dutifully took Gillian’s cock in her mouth and sucked and licked it clean.

“So who is in charge? Who is always in charge regardless of whether she is in your presence or not?” Gillian still had her fingers entangled in Cecelia’s hair.

“You are Mistress. You are my queen and I will worship you and always do your bidding,” Cecelia whispered.

“Get cleaned up. Change your stockings. There’s work to be done this morning and Lord Beaumont requires your services this afternoon.

Gillian let go of Cecelia’s hair and kicked her away with her high her heel.

Gillian pulled down her skirt and went to the door and unlocked it and opened it wide. Most of the office girls had stopped what they were doing and had obviously been listening. They peered through the door, incredulous to the sight of Cecelia picking herself up off the floor.

“Back to work ladies; nothing to see here,” Gillian clapped her hands.

Later that night in Gillian’s apartment Cecelia snuggled up Gillian who was softly stroking her hair.

“You know when I used you like I did in the office today, I only did it because you like it,” she leaned down and gently kissed Cecelia’s bruised lips.

“Yes Mistress,” Cecelia mewed.

“Don’t call me that when we are in bed together like this. I know you enjoy it when we make love without the pain and discipline,” Gillian stroked Cecelia’s cheek fondly.

“I like it when you’re tender with me like this too. I feel safe with you, I adore you Gillian,” Cecelia snuggled up Gillian and intertwined her legs with her lover.

They were both still wearing their stockings, nothing more. They had spent hours exploring each other’s bodies, delighting in discovering what made each other happy. They had made love slowly and tenderly. Gillian was very dismayed to find the raised welts on Cecelia’s back and buttocks, inflicted on her by Edward Beaumont. But she knew that Cecelia liked being treated that way and more importantly, it was Cecelia’s job to provide that kind of unique service.

“I like you too Cecelia. It’s different with you. I had never been with a woman before I met you. I like it when I’m the Mistress and you are my chattel but I think I like this more. The softness, the tenderness, the comfort we find in each other,” Gillian kissed her again.

“Me too Gillian. I don’t like being romantic or caring with men, but I feel something special when we make love,” Cecelia sighed.

Gillian snuggled closer to Cecelia if that were possible and purred.

“Of course I like it when you treat me like your dirty little whore who needs to be punished too,” Cecelia giggled flirtatiously.

“Do you?” Gillian said playfully and began to tickle Cecelia.

She extracted herself from Cecelia’s embrace and straddled her, tickling her all over. This of course eventually led to more lovemaking.

The next day they were both dressed for work, both sophisticated and sexy, as they entered the lift to take them downstairs from Gillian’s apartment Gillian spoke.

“What we do when we are in my home, our romantic relationship, that is our secret. At work and in public you my subordinate, my chattel, my toy… understand?” Gillian said candidly.

“Of course Mistress,” Cecelia whispered, keeping her head bowed.

After six months of Gillian and Amanda’s animosity to each other, business at Fleur de Lis was starting to suffer. The staff and the members all preferred when Gillian was duty manager, she was engaging with the members, and direct but courteous with the staff. More importantly she got things done.

Amanda was also aware that Gillian had wrenched Cecelia Flick’s loyalty away from her. Cecelia was still docile and obedient but she referred to Gillian when she had to make a choice. Amanda’s response was to make things harder for Gillian and be damned the ensuing chaos.

Gillian had enough.

“You know you shouldn’t be here,” Terry Belkin said to Gillian Dixon when she knocked on his door.

“Alfie told me stay away from you and he’s the boss. A very vicious boss who takes retribution when his minions don’t do as they are told,” Terry kept his arm across the door to prevent Gillian entering his flat.

Gillian was dressed down wearing a denim micro-miniskirt, tank top, nude sheer-to-the waist pantyhose and ‘fuck-me’ strappy high heels. She was wearing a lot of makeup, lashings of mascara, rouged cheeks and red lipstick. Her red hair draped across her shoulder blades.

It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra but what Terry didn’t know was that she was also sans panties.

“Come on Terry. You said yourself, I give the best blowjobs in London,” she pushed his arm out of the way and strode into his flat.

It was a mess but she ignored it. Empty takeaway curry containers, chip wrappers and lager cans were strewn across every surface of the kitchen.

“I see you’re on a health diet then?” Gillian teased him.

Terry couldn’t take his eyes off her tits and her legs; everything was on display.

“And I can see that for a woman who had climbed the corporate ladder you like to climb down occasionally and dress like a ten pound brass,” Terry traded insults.

“So you came here to give me blowjob did you? What do you want for it? You never gave anything away,” Terry closed the front door behind her and followed her into the lounge.

“I’ve come to give you something that you always wanted but could never get,” she put a finger in her mouth flirtatiously and grinned at him.

“What might that be?” Terry was dressed only in a bathrobe and was barefoot.

He worked late and got up late. His morning erection had returned at the sight of Gillian.

“This,” Gillian bent over the overstuffed arm of the couch and presented herself.

Her micro-miniskirt rode up revealing her exquisite soft white buttocks encased in the sheerest of nylon. Terry could see her puckered bud.

“Well come on. Fuck me,” Gillian snagged a red painted fingernail into the translucent gusset of her pantyhose and tore a little hole.

Terry needed no further urging. He opened his robe, stepped behind Gillian and pushed his cock into her tight anus. Gillian was lubricated but she gasped as his thick phallus filled her back passage. Terry gripped Gillian by the hips and began to fuck her vigorously.

“Come on Terry, give me a good fucking. I need it,” Gillian goaded him on, wriggling her buttocks to increase his pleasure.

Terry’s morning piss-horn refused to give up his seed easily and he fucked Gillian for a good fifteen minutes before he came. Gillian had not come looking for gratification herself but Terry was doing a good job. He pulled off her tank top so he could play with her tits and then kept changing positions. Sitting on the couch with her straddling him so he could kiss her while she rode him. Him lying on the couch and her riding him cowboy, and finally, Gillian lying down on the couch with a pillow under the small of back and him between her legs fucking her missionary, kissing her passionately until he orgasmed.

Gillian came with him, pulling her skirt out of the way at the last minute so it wouldn’t get come on it but she still flooded her pantyhose.

When Terry had finished he dismounted and wiped himself clean with a tea towel which he tossed to her on completion.

“Classy,” she huffed and patted herself dry as best she could and pushed her deflating penis between her legs.

She took a pair of black satin full-cut panties from her handbag and slipped them on, ignoring the squelchy mess in the front of her pantyhose.

“So what do you want?” Terry lit a cigarette.

Gillian rummaged in her handbag and dropped a roll of banknotes on the kitchen table. She snatched his cigarette out of his hand and drew on it, blowing smoke in his face.

“That’s a lot of money Gillian. A fuck-load of money,” Terry picked up the roll of cash, took off the rubber band and fanned the notes.

“I want weight Terry. A fuck-load, as you put it, of weight,” Gillian handed him back his cigarette.

“I told you Alfie said no,” but Terry kept counting the money.

“Fuck Alfie. This is between you and I. Imagine how much money I can make dealing discreetly at the Fleur de Lis. Those rich tossers love nose candy but it’s hard for them to get from a reliable source. If I sell it to them in the club they will be happy because anything they do in the confines of club remains a secret,” Gillian replied.

“I’ll mark it up double what your dealers sell it for on the streets. You give Alfie the going rate, and we split the profits,” Gillian sidled up to him.

“And every time I come to get my stash you get to fuck me. Or anything else you want to do to me,” she reached into his robe and squeezed his prick.

It was becoming hard again.

“I’ll get your weight,” Terry went upstairs and came down a few minutes later with a large bag of cocaine.

“Don’t get caught with that. It’s two to three years in porridge if you’re nabbed with that amount of Class A on you,” Terry said soberly.

Gillian we-wrapped the cellophane bag of cocaine in newspaper and dropped it in her handbag.

“Thanks Terry. Looks like this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” she kissed his cheek and started for the door.

Terry held onto her wrist and swung her around. His robe was open and he was hard again.

“Any chance of another shag before you leave,” he grinned at her.

Gillian rummaged around her bag and produced a small tube of KY jelly.

“Here. Take this; a box of tissues, your laptop, and enjoy yourself,” she tossed the tube of lubricant at him, pulled herself free of his grasp and strode to the front door and opened it.

“There’s spunk on the back of your leg,” Terry called after her, grinning like a schoolboy.

“Like I care,” Gillian waggled her fingers at him and closed the door behind her.

Two days later at three in the morning on the way home from work, Amanda Grayson was stopped for a routine licence check and a cursory search of her car by the constable who stopped her revealed a trafficable quantity of cocaine in her glovebox. She swabbed positive for cocaine use at the scene and the urine sample taken at the police station confirmed that she had used the drug recently.

Amanda claimed that the drugs had been planted by Cecelia Flick, the only other person with a spare set of keys to her car and that Cecelia had enticed her to use cocaine in her office at the Fleur de Lis that evening. Cecelia was interviewed by police and claimed that she was at the residence of Gillian Dixon on the night of the incident which was corroborated by Gillian.

Amanda was sent down for two years and Gillian Dixon became sole manager of Fleur de Lis.

“Just remind me never to cross you,” Andrew Dixon smiled at his beautiful niece as she greeted him at the door to her new apartment in Mayfair.

The place was a lot bigger the her previous abode and she was throwing a small house-warming party for her friends. Cecelia was dressed in a French maid’s outfit serving drinks and canapes.

“I don’t know what on earth you mean,” she smiled back at her uncle and winced when he pinched her buttock as he squeezed passed her.

During the evening she managed to get Terry Belkin alone in her bedroom.

“Jesus Christ Gillian! Do you know how much that weight cost?” terry paced up and down the room nervously.

“Don’t worry Terry, I’ll give you full retail value for it so you can pay Alfie,” Gillian studied the bubbles in her champagne class.

“Well then. At least that’s done and dusted,” terry breathed a sigh of relief.

“What do you mean done and dusted?” Gillian said sharply, fixing him with her ice-blue eyes.

“Selling you weight. I presume you only wanted it for…” Gillian didn’t let him finish.

“Fucking bollocks we’re done and dusted! The deal stands. I can double may wage selling snow at the Fleur de Lis and you my friend are going to supply me,” Gillian put down her drink and took a cigarette from a silver case on the nightstand.

“Fucking bollocks I am! Do you know what will happen if Alfie finds out!” Terry hissed.

“He won’t find out. Not unless I tell him. Our deal stands,” Gillian blew smoke at the ceiling.

Terry knew when he was beaten.

“Does that include the shagging,” a coarse grin spread on his face.

“Of course,” Gillian sidled up to him.

She was wearing a short black cocktail dress and his hand went straight to her arse.

“Any chance of quick one now then? You can put if my tab?” Terry grinned and squeezed her buttock.

“Yes of course you can have a shag,” Gillian removed his hand from her buttock.

She crushed out her cigarette and walked to the door.

“Cecelia! Come and take care of this for me please,” she called out the door.

They both heard the click-clack of Cecelia Flick's heels on the stairs.

“Enjoy yourself. And you’re right; this is going on your tab,” Gillian smiled sweetly when Cecelia entered the room and she left.

Gillian settled into the role of being sole manager of Fleur de Lis very comfortably. She made quite a few improvements to the place, brightened it up, put in some ‘specialty’ entertainment rooms and recruited girls with special talents to work in them.

She also made some changes that neither Alfie nor her uncle knew about and would be livid if they did.

Gillian and Cecelia sold cocaine to those members who requested it. They dealt only in the club and never more than a member could use personally that evening; there were no take-aways.

While the club was being renovated, she secretly had minuscule video cameras installed above all the work rooms, the administration offices, the bar and lounge. The video was fed by wifi to digital recorders and screens she had installed in a safe behind a false panel in her office. Only she and Cecelia knew about it and had the combination to the safe and passwords to the video consoles.

Gillian and Cecelia’s relationship continued to flourish, Cecelia became dependant on Gillian and Gillian, who considered herself incapable of love, felt genuine affection for Cecelia. She understood Cecelia’s need to be dominated, mastered and physically punished and did not try to change her or withhold that part of her life from her. She let Cecelia continue to explore her sadomasochistic tendencies.

But Gillian was becoming more concerned about the level of violence and humiliation that Cecelia was willing to let her partners inflict on her, particularly Lord Edward Beaumont who was becoming very extreme in his demands.

However, Gillian led a very comfortable and happy life for the three years that she was Madame at the Fleur de Lis. It was only when she was arrested and charged with murder that her life took a turn for the worse.

But Gillian being Gillian, she was determined to remain in control of her destiny, whatever that might be.

To be continued