To Be Opened By the LAPD Only in Case of My Demise

             She walked into my office like trouble on legs. I had seen her many times before, but never in person. Having her in the same room with me gave me a strange feeling…warm and harsh all at once, like the rush of a first shot of bourbon. She arrayed herself in my client chair like it was a throne, pointing her irresistible legs at me as if daring me to look away.

            “Ms…” I began.

            “Please address me as ‘Goddess Marquesa,’” she interrupted.

            “Yes…ah…Goddess Marquesa. You must be wondering why I asked you here…”

            She rolled her eyes at how obvious I was being, urging me silently to get to the point.

            “…Please let me show you something…” I muttered, struggling to keep my cool.

            I pressed “play” on the DVD player set up behind my desk, and the flat screen set up catty-corner to us fired to life. A naked man was shown lying on a couch, his hand lifted in the air. Goddess Marquesa was sitting next to him, looking her gorgeously regal self. The man’s eyes were closed.

            “You are now deeply asleep,” Goddess Marquesa said in the video. “In this state you cannot lie to me. You will answer all my questions truthfully. Is that understood?”

            “Yes, Goddess Marquesa,” replied the man in a drowsy voice.

            “Good. Have you said all your prayers to me this week?”

            “Yes, Goddess Marquesa.”

            “And while masturbating, have you thought only of me?”

            “Yes, Goddess Marquesa.”

            “Have you followed the schedule I gave you?”

            The man was silent.

            “Tell me. Confess,” ordered the Goddess.

            “On Wednesday night your schedule said that I should masturbate to you three times in a row. After the second time my cock was a bit sore, so I decided to rest. I fell asleep.”

            “I see,” noted the Goddess. “All right…on the count of three you will awaken. One…two… three!”

            The man on the couch opened his eyes and looked expectantly at Goddess Marquesa. “Put on your apron and get to work,” she ordered.

            The man stood, reached outside the frame, and retrieved a black apron trimmed with frilly white lace. This he obediently donned, tying it securely in back.

            Hitting the “fast-forward” button on the DVD player, I said, “This part goes on for some time.” At high speed the apron-clad man could be seen moving in and out of the frame, carrying mops, buckets, brooms, dust-pans, and other cleaning paraphernalia. At times he was on screen, bent over or on hands-and-knees, laboring to clean the space in which he had just lain, hypnotized. Finally he seemed to finish these chores and stood before the Goddess, still naked but for his apron and an enormous erection. At this point I set the DVD player back to normal speed.

            “Adequate work, slave,” said Goddess Marquesa coolly, on the video. “You may assume the position now.”

            The man got down on all fours. The Goddess stood, and picking up a thin horsewhip, brought it down against the man’s ass with a loud “thwack!”

            “Whom do you love?” asked Goddess Marquesa.

            “You, Goddess,” said the man, fighting to speak through the pain.

            Another lash. “Whom do you worship?”

            “You, Goddess.”

            Another lash. “Whom do you serve?”

            “You, Goddess.” Tears were running from the man’s eyes.

            Another lash. “Who owns you?”

            “You do, Goddess.”

            Another lash. “Who controls you?”

            “You do, Goddess.”

            Another lash. “Who receives all of your orgasms?”

            “You do, Goddess.”

            Another lash. “Who is the most perfect woman on earth?”

            “You are, Goddess.”

            Another lash. “Who is in your thoughts constantly?”

            “You are, Goddess.”

            Goddess Marquesa lowered her whip. “I think that is enough for today, slave,” she declared. “Thank me for whipping you.”

            The man turned, still on hands-and-knees, and kissed Goddess Marquesa’s foot lovingly. “Thank you, Goddess,” he said, “thank you…thank you…”

            “Get dressed,” ordered the Goddess.

            The man looked up, his face a mask of disappointment. “Won’t you let me masturbate for you?” he pleaded.

            “You didn’t follow my schedule,” the Goddess replied, her voice stern. “It will have to wait until you learn better obedience.” At these words the man bowed his head, resigned.

            Here I sped up the DVD again, as the man took off his apron and put on a conservative blue business suit. Once he was dressed I slowed the playback down again.

            “Here is your masturbation schedule for this week,” the Goddess said on the video, handing the man a folded piece of paper. “Don’t fail to get it right this time. I expect you to masturbate while thinking of me three times in a row tonight. Be sure to say how much you love me as you come.”

            “Yes, Goddess Marquesa,” said the man sheepishly, accepting the paper.

            “I’ll see you next week at the same time, Congressman,” said the Goddess, showing the man toward the door. “Be sure to say hello to your lovely wife for me…”

            At these words the man turned, startled. “Just kidding,” said the Goddess with a slight chuckle.

            Here I hit “stop” on the DVD player and turned to Goddess Marquesa in my office.

            “As my office door says, I am a private investigator,” I began, trying not to lose my stride as Goddess Marquesa again rolled her eyes. “Several months ago, I was hired by an anonymous client to watch you. I set up surveillance systems at several locations to gather information about your activities. What I just showed you is among many hours of footage that I recorded….” Here my narrative trailed off, as I was somewhat at a loss how to continue.

            An uncomfortable silence settled over the office. Goddess Marquesa surveyed me coolly with her deep green eyes. She could see how uneasy I was, but made no move for several long moments to rescue me from my awkward spot. Finally, she relented, asking, “Surely, it is unusual for you to share this kind of information with the subject of an investigation?”

            “Yes…” I admitted, my voice strained with nerves.

            “And you could get into serious professional, even legal trouble for disclosing your client’s request?”

            “True…” I wheezed, having difficulty either talking or breathing.

            Another awkward pause, as Goddess Marquesa waited expectantly. Finally, she provided the obvious segue, stretching the word to underscore her impatience, “Buuuut?”

            “But I’ve fallen in love with you…” I blurted out. Once the words burst forth, they came in a rush, “I couldn’t help it. Watching you hour after hour…it’s more than any man can take. You are so gorgeous…so brilliant…so perfect. At first I felt desire, then yearning, now….I can’t think of anything but you. I can’t feel for anyone before you. I don’t care what happens to me, as long as it benefits you. They can take my license, put me in jail. I just want to make you happy…”

            Goddess Marquesa laughed, a sound so beautiful that it cut my confession short. I glanced down and saw that, without realizing it, I had slid out of my chair and to my knees.

            “You won’t have to lose your license,” the Goddess said.

            “What?” I asked incoherently.

            “It was I who hired you,” she declared. “I occasionally could use the services of an investigator, and I knew that if you watched me for a while you would become my slave.”

            “Oh…” I grunted, too surprised to speak. I stayed on my knees for several moments, unable to move. My heart was a tempest of feeling…the revelation of how she had manipulated me made my love for her glow stronger than before.

            “I think you know what to do,” she said.

            I did. I pulled my pants down and went prostrate on my hands-and-knees. As she paddled my ass I answered her questions, telling her that I loved her, I worshipped her, that she owned my cock, that I was her slave…

            That night I masturbated to her three times, as she had ordered. Each time I declared my love for her as I came. Before going to sleep I prayed to her, as I’ve done every night since. I’ve changed the name of my agency to Emerald Eyes Investigations, though no one knows the real significance of this. I am her eyes and ears now. Every scrap of information I collect, no matter for what client, gets reviewed by Goddess Marquesa before anyone else sees it. 

            I know that writing this confession is a risk, but I have done it as a kind of “life insurance policy.” If I die on the job, which is always a professional risk, I suspect that the police will go through my files. I’ve placed this so that it will be among the first documents found. If you are a cop who is reading this, odds are you are a straight man. If so, and you have read this far, you are probably curious to see my surveillance films of Goddess Marquesa. They are stored in a cabinet marked 317B. Go ahead. Watch them. She’ll be needing a new slave.