It was a dreary, grey, and rainy day as our car rolled up the long, winding driveway to Agnes Hall, looming just outside the city. It‘s a stretch to say the car drove us; Lockshire drove us, as he always did, with his usual unyielding focus. I was merely a passenger, though in his eyes, more than that—a decorative ornament, a mantle-piece brought to life for his use. My role was clear: to distract and entice, to lure his suspects with the sway of my hips and the persuasion of my, if I may say so, perfect body.

I took pride in my appearance, after all. At twenty-five, my figure was still manageable without much effort, and I was blessed with curves that made men practically die cumming on my milky white bosom. I didn’t hide what nature had generously given me; why would I? With a quick flip of the sun visor, I caught sight of my green eyes in the mirror, framed by a bright cascade of red hair. God, I looked stunning that day. The slightly sheer top I wore perfectly enhanced my to-die-for breasts, and whenever I gaze at myself like that, I can't help but feel a familiar heat stirring inside me. I’m lucky that way.

We had already tackled countless cases together, Lockshire and I, though I doubted this would be anything out of the ordinary. As usual, he would claim the limelight, and I would play my part, just like always. Lockshire Bones—a dreadful man, really. His reputation preceded him, a legend whispered in hushed reverence and incredulous awe. I’ll give him that much; his mind is a labyrinth of unfathomable depths, with an uncanny ability to unravel the most elusive riddles. The deeper you try to bury your secrets, the deeper he digs to unearth them.

Yes, I hate how Lockshire always basks in the spotlight, and yes, I’m envious. You fucking bet.

“Ah, here we are, Jo,” he exclaimed in that borderline demeaning tone as the car stopped in front of the massive and quite unnecessarily large stone stairs.

“Dr. Dr. Watts,” I reminded him. My voice was steady and just a bit sharp. It was always the same game between us—he loved to prod, and I refused to let him see me squirm.

He flashed a half-smirk, his gray eyes gleaming with something like amusement. “Of course. How could I forget?”

“You didn’t forget, you prick,” I thought, but before I could come up with a properly stinging reply, the hollers from atop the stairs abrupted us.

"Mr. Bones! Mr. Bones!"

There he was—Lester Stade, such a handsome man. Even as he hurried down the stairs, I caught a familiar whiff of his scent, a mix of musk and cologne that lingered in my memory. He smelled more of man than he perhaps was, but he more than made up for it with his fantastic body. Countless times, he’d had me heaving for breath with the most intense orgasms. Not the brightest investigator, perhaps, but a cock to die for. I found myself surprisingly pleased to see him.

We met him halfway up the stairs. Lockshire strode confidently ahead while I followed with a slower, more deliberate elegance.

"What brings you here, Bones?" Lester inquired, his tone a touch defensive. "Surely, this one’s pretty straightforward."

"Obviously, Mr. Stade," Lockshire replied smoothly, "but when a high-profile man dies, the department wouldn’t want you jumping to the wrong conclusions and embarrassing yourselves, now would they?"

Lester's expression faltered for just a moment. "Yes. Quite," he muttered, then brightened as his eyes landed on me. "Ah! Dr. Watts! How wonderful to see you again!"

His smile always made me tingle, and when his hand brushed against mine, a warm shiver ran down my spine.

"Likewise," I murmured, my voice slipping into a deep, husky tone.

My thoughts wandered to Lester’s hard pecs, his hard abs, and to the massive girth…

“The two of you can indulge in your fantasies later; we have work to do!” Lockshire’s voice was cold as always. Besides, he was annoyingly right. This was not the time.

“What do we have, Lester?”

“You’re well aware of Byron Agnes. There’s undoubtedly no need for me to introduce him further. He was found dead in his study this morning by his assistant, Miss Alice Sway. She called the ambulance, but they could only confirm his death. Then, we got called in and hurried on our way. We’ve been here for about an hour, so here we are, Mr. Bones.”

Lockshire was unimpressed as we hurried up the stairs. My eyes were fixed on Lester’s firm bottom, playing out the familiar fantasy of what it would feel like to have him pressed against me, his body warm and inviting. He was every bit the handsome officer, his tailored trousers accentuating the curve of his behind as he ascended the stone steps. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had the same effect on all the women in the department or if I was particularly susceptible to his charm. Or his massive cock. Yeah, that could be it.

“Dr. Watts?” Lockshire’s voice broke through my reverie, returning my attention to the task at hand.

“Yes?” I replied, slightly flustered, shaking off the vivid daydream.

“Focus!”

“Tell that to my aching twat, you prick,” my mind said as my lips formed a silent “Yes.”

Agnes Hall was everything I hated about the rich: tasteless marble floors, granite walls, and large wooden doors. Each room was a testament to Byron Agnes's misguided sense of grandeur, as if he believed that gilding the halls with opulence could compensate for his lack of substance. The marble floors were cold and uninviting, devoid of warmth or character, while the stark granite walls loomed like a constant reminder of the wealth he flaunted but could never truly own.

Byron Agnes obviously saw himself as one of the English Lords of old, a figure plucked from dusty tales of chivalry and grandeur that had long since lost their charm. But in reality, the English Lords were a dying breed for a reason: the world had no use for them. They were relics of a bygone era, clinging to outdated ideals and traditions no longer relevant in the modern world. The very thought of Byron prancing around as if he belonged to that elite lineage made my skin crawl.

The grand staircase was perhaps the most egregious display of his pretentiousness, taking up more estate than most family homes. It curved high up to the second floor, a sweeping monument to his delusions of grandeur. Each step felt like a challenge, mocking me as I ascended, a reminder of the absurdity of it all. Did Mr. Agnes think he was living in a castle? Because that’s how it felt—an overblown fairy tale where he played the king, surrounded by sycophants who indulged his every whim.

Yet, the image of myself on my knees on those very steps, Lester pounding into me as we soiled the marble with our juices, was hard to shake. Like a bitch in heat, I would push back into his every thrust, each drive sending me spiraling into a gushing orgasm.

“What a lovely house!” Lockshire exclaimed, stealing yet another fantasy from me. His poor taste was a testament to just how grotesque the place was.

The décor was as distasteful as the architecture itself. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling like monstrous icicles, casting harsh, artificial light illuminating the gaudy wallpaper. Every piece of furniture seemed chosen not for comfort or style but for its price tag, each item a trophy in his collection of ostentations.

“Cum stains,” I thought, “Cum stains, sweat, and overflowing pussies are the only thing that could salvage this furniture—give it any sort of life.”

As we entered the study, the pungent smell of death hit me; I was used to it by now—every job came with its own scent of decay. The study itself was just as grotesquely oversized and tasteless as everything else in Agnes Hall. Dead cowhide wrapped the oversized sofa tucked into the corner. I don’t mind leather, but it looks better on me than on furniture.

The centerpiece, of course, was the absurdly large desk. It was suspiciously neat, with only an empty glass on its massive mahogany surface.

Byron Agnes was a tall and sturdy man who had been surprisingly attractive in life. Yet, death doesn’t become anyone. His tall stature leaned back in its empty shell, still somehow mocking the world as if to tell it to fuck off.

Lockshire studied the corpse. “No doubt you’ve concluded heart failure, Lester?”

“Well,” my handsome man stuttered, “it’s the main theory…”

“Enough! Everything about this place smells like murder! Don’t make a mockery of yourself!”

Lockshire donned his vinyl gloves, picked up the glass, examined it, and sniffed. “You should ensure this corpse is sent to competent care. I’m sure they’ll find his system full of toxins. Enough to kill an elephant, I’m sure. At least enough to make this dinosaur extinct. And send this glass for trace evidence.”

“Yes, sir,” Lester replied, his voice heavy with resignation as he sighed deeply.

“And have your men round up everyone in this household in the dining room. Oh, and ensure they’re competent enough to bring all of them.”

The dining room was steeped in the awkwardness of mourning, a palpable discomfort that lingered in the air. Two women, embracing between quiet sobs, were clearly related—sisters, as I quickly surmised. Diana, the older of the two at thirty, wore the weight of grief heavily on her face, while Eve, younger at twenty-seven, outshone her sister in beauty, even with red-rimmed eyes. Their presence felt oddly out of place in Agnes Hall, though they seemed accustomed to its grandness.

In stark contrast to the sisters' shared comfort was Loretta Agnes, Byron’s second wife, seated at the far end of the table. Her expression was steely. She was a solitary figure who seemed to draw strength from herself rather than seek it from others. Her occasional dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief felt more like a performance than genuine mourning.

Around the table sat the rest of the household: Alice Sway, Byron’s young assistant, looked tired and disheveled, her long blonde hair falling over her blue eyes. She had undoubtedly dressed to impress this morning, but grief had worn down the careful presentation. Her white blouse strained against her full chest, and the tight skirt clung to the curves of her firm backside. There was no mistaking why Byron had chosen her as his assistant—she couldn’t have been older than her early twenties.

Daniel, the groundskeeper, sat at the table with his head in his hands. He was a rugged man, likely in his mid-thirties, though his downcast expression made it difficult to gauge what role he might have played in the life of Byron Agnes—or his death.

Standing by the kitchen entrance was the head housekeeper, Signe Hallvardsson. At forty, she had been in Mr. Agnes's service for over twenty years. Though there was a hint of the beauty she once had, time and resentment had etched lines deep into her face. She wore a mask of indifference, as if mourning was too much to ask. In a pinch, I might let her lick my snatch, but she’d not be my first choice. Right now, Alice was far more appealing.

Lockshire interrupted the tense silence with all the subtlety of a battering ram. “Ah, yes! I gather this is everyone?” he proclaimed, his tone devoid of discretion. “I don’t know whether to share my condolences for your loss or congratulate you on your new fortune.” His gaze fixed on the sisters, whose sulking intensified.

“Or perhaps it’s the grieving widow?” he continued, turning his attention to Loretta, who gasped in indignation.

Lockshire began to pace, surveying each face at the table. I had seen this performance countless times before. It didn’t enthrall me as it used to in our earlier years; I knew Lockshire enjoyed the power he wielded, the thrill of having everyone's attention, and I could sense how it aroused him.

“Or could it be one of the disgruntled staff?” he mused, eyes sharp as they scanned each expression. “The assistant, weary of late-night demands?” His gaze flicked briefly to Alice. “Or the housekeeper, neglected for years?”

He paused behind Daniel, resting his hand on his shoulder. “Or perhaps it was you, the groundskeeper? Tired of picking up the discarded scraps of your employer and seeking to free the estate from its tyrant?”

“How dare you?” Loretta spat, voice thick with contempt.

“How dare I?” Lockshire’s laugh was cutting. “Byron Agnes was a despicable man. His power lay in his wealth and insatiable appetite. When he couldn’t take, he bought; when he tired, he discarded.” His eyes met Signe's momentarily, and something unspoken passed between them.

The rattle of teacups on a trolley broke the charged silence. “What now?” Lockshire snapped, clearly exasperated. “When I said everyone, I meant it. What utter incompetence!”

“Sorry, I thought tea or coffee might be appreciated,” came a voice that drew my attention like a magnet.

The woman’s name—Christy Blake, I would later learn—wasn’t needed to recognize her allure. Her dark-brown skin glistened with a deep, rich sheen that highlighted every curve, her maid’s uniform hugging her body like a second skin. Her wavy hair framed her face, and her full lips curved into a teasing smile that promised much more than polite service. The outfit itself—a skimpy black skirt, a generous cleavage on display, and stockings that accentuated her long, luscious legs—was a cliché, but on her, it became a fantasy realized.

When she bent to pour a cup, the curve of her backside seemed to taunt me, its fullness begging to be worshiped. The thought of tasting her, burying my face between her thighs and drowning in her scent, surged through me, setting a fire in my core. I could feel my pulse quicken, and my lips parted with a soft moan before I could catch myself.

Christy’s eyes flicked up, amusement dancing within them as if she knew exactly what effect she was having on me. “Tea or coffee?” she asked, her voice a sultry melody that weakened my knees.

“Yes, please,” I murmured, the words catching in my throat, my desire palpable.

“We are done here, Dr. Watts!” Lockshire concluded, “Come to my room to discuss and share our findings. You do have rooms ready for us, Miss Hallvardsson?”

The head housekeeper seemed to snap out of her trance. She was obviously uneasy and not fully able to comprehend the scene that had just taken place.

“Yes, certainly, Mr. Bones. Uh…this way.”

Again, we ascended the ugly staircase as the housekeeper led us to our rooms. They were adjacent to each other, regretfully, as I’d ideally like some distance from my tutor.

“See you in ten minutes, Jo?” he smirked.

I could have sworn the next murder mystery would be “Who Strangled Lockshire Bones?”. I hate it when he calls me Jo. Sure, short for Joanna. Joanna Henrietta Watts. But only my mother calls me Jo. To him, I am Dr. Watts!

“Sure,” I sighed in resignation.

My room was as distasteful as the rest of the mansion, but the bed was to die for. Comfortable beyond dreams, sturdy bedposts that would allow me to be bound and mercilessly pounded, and spacious enough to fit more than one servant. I longed for Lester to tie me down, face down, and mount me – hammer his cock inside me until I could take it no more. Perhaps Christy bound and spread eagle before me, lapping her juices until Lester had me screaming my orgasm into her wet snatch.

But work beckoned.

Not only were our rooms adjacent to each other, but they were, of course, connected by a door. Lockshire could not have designed our accommodation better if he had planned it himself. I found myself in front of his door, as I had been many times. I needn’t have knocked; I never did. As I entered his room, I found him precisely as I expected. Sitting in the deep chair by the window, zipping his drink. His usually perfect attire was loosened; his shirt's first two buttons were unbuttoned, as were his trousers. And in his hand, his massive, beautiful cock. Fully erect at his pleasuring.

Yes, I loathed the man, but he had the perfect cock. It lured me in, as always, and I dropped to my knees in front of him and hungrily took him in my mouth.

“Dear Dr. Watts,” he moaned, “What an eventful and glorious day! Don’t you love the smell of murder?”

“Mhmm,” I agreed, as I slurped on his fuck-stick.

“Ah, so many glorious suspects. I want them all to be guilty! The two lovely sisters? What shame to have a father like the rotten Byron Agnes? And what easy fortune to come by with him dead? The assistant? How do you like her? Promises of financial freedom in exchange for the services of her body, broken time and time again?”

His cock hit the back of my throat, and my pussy growled with hunger. My wetness, egged on since the morning, was overflowing as I started to rub myself. Part of me longed for him to release inside my mouth, but my hungry cunt rejected the idea. I mounted him, and she swallowed him in one slick, hungry motion.

“What about the groundskeeper?” I moaned, “He’s sketchy, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps, but my mind is on the housekeeper. Hearing and seeing how Byron feasts on the other women but never looks at her?”

“Hurt mistress? Too obvious, don’t you think?”

Lockshire pounded into me, bottoming out inside me. I gasped for air as he lifted me up and carried me onto the bed. His cock never left me, my weight pushing me down on him. Again, he was going to make me cum, but I would have plenty of time to be remorseful. Right now, I needed him to pound me hard.

“What about the maid?” I gasped.

“The pregnant one? Oh, why, Jo, would she kill the baby's father?”

“Pregnant?” I questioned, as he punished my pussy for me missing what stood out as obvious to him.

“You insist on me calling you ‘doctor,’ yet you cannot detect such obvious information?

His disappointment was real, and he pounded me into a ravaging orgasm. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him deeper inside me. Once more, I screamed in spasms before he shot his load inside me.

And, yet again, I found myself walking into my room, cum dripping from my smugly satisfied and deceiving cunt, while the familiar shame flushed over me. God, Lockshire is a good fuck.

I glimpsed out at the downpour beyond my window. Agnes Hall stood with all its preposterous grandness, as if desperately flaunting its wealth. The estate was absurdly extravagant, every inch polished to a shine that screamed opulence. To my right lay the main building, our rooms were in the west wing, while the east wing mirrored us across the courtyard. A few windows glowed warmly in the opposite wing, signs of life that only underscored the darkness in the other rooms—hollow eyes staring blankly into the storm.

Below, the garden stretched out in all its manicured perfection. Pathways were lined with precisely clipped hedges, and flowerbeds bloomed with colors too vibrant for a place steeped in secrets and grief. Every blade of grass was cut to a uniform height; no leaf dared to mar the polished walkways. Northward, Woodworth Forest and the mountains loomed, blurred by the relentless downpour that shrouded the landscape in shades of gray. Even in the gloomy weather, the estate’s elegance was unscathed, and the upkeep was flawless.

Byron Agnes had poured his wealth into this absurd display of vanity, maintaining every stone, plant, and piece of furniture in impeccable condition. Yet he had allowed the people closest to him to wither like neglected houseplants—discarded and overlooked while he preened over his possessions. The house was a monument to his own self-importance, all grand façade and no soul.

I had a long, warm shower and prepared for dinner.

I entered the dining room with great anticipation. I already knew the evening would be interesting. With his balls freshly drained, I knew Lockshire would be at his sharpest. I felt pretty invigorated myself and found my seat next to Lester with a smile on my face.

The absurdity of the dining table struck me; it was large beyond reason and could easily fit at least thirty people. Now, our small group sat scattered around the table. The sisters, already picking at their plates with no genuine interest, sat at the far end, closest to the kitchen. Alice and Daniel sat by themselves, both with resigned expressions. And at the far end, the widow, respectfully dressed in black to at least express mourning her husband.

Mid-ship, as Lester put it, the three of us, Lockshire, Lester, and me, sat. We did not need to feign mourning; frankly, we were starving, and we greedily feasted on the generous food and drink.

“Did he…” Lester whispered.

“Did he fuck me?” I replied in a deep, hushed voice. My smile gave away the answer.

Lester’s eyes showed a hint of resignation.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him, “Tonight, you belong to me.”

“How long do you intend to keep this charade going?”

Lockshire’s loud and booming voice cut through the room like thunder, shattering whatever gloomy atmosphere its inhabitants had created.

“Not one of you regrets to see this awful man gone, yet you all sit here, each one of you more desperate to take on the role of the main griever. And yet, inside, you each celebrate your newfound freedom. And none of you really care that he was murdered, do you? Perhaps you even see it a fitting fate for him?”

He stood in all his extravagant glory; as always, all eyes were fixed on him.

“Inspector Stade will indeed receive confirmation as to his poisoning shortly, and we all know the murderer sits in this room unless she is in the kitchen preparing what is undoubtedly a glorious dessert.”

“She?” Eve questioned.

“Odds, woman. There are six women under this roof with motive and opportunity, whereas Daniel is the lone ram among you ewes. And there are only ewes in the kitchen. I’m certainly not discarding the idea of Daniel thinking there were too many rams in this glorious house. Maybe you got greedy, Daniel?”

Daniel showed no reaction, not even one of objection. Earlier in the day, he had eluded me; now, I could see what a beautiful man he was. There were enough desperate and willing women in the estate, and I could easily imagine each and every one of them throwing themselves at him. Fuck, I could easily see myself held up by his strong arms, my legs wrapped around his impressive frame and impaled on his cock as he pushed me up against the wall and hammered into me. I quickly put him on my list of people to interrogate. In private, of course. A small, wicked smile tugged at my lips; maybe I’d lose myself in the act too much. But right now, I couldn’t care less.

Signe and Christy appeared from the kitchen and swept our plates away. As Christy leaned in to pick up my plate, her breast brushed my shoulder, and her scent was divine. I longingly watched her curved bottom as she exited the room. Yeah, she made my list of prime suspects as well, just for the enjoyment of interrogating her.

Lockshire had continued his rant, and as I cleared my head, I latched on to his argument that had now switched back at the widow. He stood directly behind her and leaned in.

“Yes, indeed, you’re rightfully outraged and furious at the knowledge that your husband, in lieu of work, spent his nights feasting on the bodies of Alice, Christy, and whomever else he had an appetite for. Your own cravings increasingly ignored, and in need of a man to take advantage of you. You do like to be dominated and used, don’t you? Biting the pillow as your holes are ravaged. You even crave it now as your breath deepens. How long could his money overshadow your needs, bitterness, jealousy, and disgust?”

The loud smack as Loretta Agnes stood and slapped Lockshire across the face was a perfect punctuation to his accusation, and her storming out of the room was the ideal setup for Lockshire to refocus his reasoning.

“Yes, indeed, we know her motives, don’t we? We know all your motives by now. And even now, without her in the room, I sense a shift of atmosphere. Is it she who brings the gloom, or is it your gloom for her that infects this house? Ponder not the question; it is for me to answer. Have a good night.”

And with that, he left the room, much to the puzzlement of everyone, including myself. Even after all these years of working together, he still found new ways to surprise me.

As Lockshire left, the room fell into a stunned silence. I almost felt the unease settling like a heavy fog over the scattered diners. The sisters exchanged nervous glances while Daniel’s usual stoic expression seemed to crack, if only for a second. Alice looked at me and Lester to find some answers, but unlike Lester, I managed to hide my oblivion about his next move.

When Christy came to serve dessert, the mere presence of her cheerful spirit seemed to wipe the fog away. Conversations started, and I should have been listening to Lester as he tried to piece together the fragments of conversation. I tried, but ultimately, I left it to Lester to pick up what words were shared and their importance.

My mind had melted on Christy, and I had drifted away in dreams of drinking her flowing juices from her cup, her lustful moans and groans as I brought her into orgasm after orgasm, her locking her thighs around my head and drowning me in her sweet cum.

Even as I lay in bed, I was tossing and turning. The releasing orgasms Lockshire had provided seemed eons ago, and my cunt was driving me mad, like an itch you can’t reach. Lester’s room was in the east wing; he had whispered the directions as we parted after dinner. The third door on the right. My feet took direction before my mind had settled; after all, they were closer to my screaming pussy than my brain.

The hallways of Agnes Hall lay silent and dark, yet as I approached the landing on top of the stairs, I heard a rustle. I snuck up to the corner and peeked around the corner. I saw Christy hurriedly scatter across the landing, only wearing a skimpy thong and a bra. I observed her as she entered Byron’s study. Intriguing, to say the least.

Even my hungry snatch agreed to investigate further; she also shared my interest in this dark beauty. I snuck up to the big wooden door, and for once, I thanked Byron for his complete lack of taste. The oversized door also provided an oversized keyhole, giving me a pretty good view of the room.

At first, I could not see Chirsty. I did, however, see Alice leaning against the disgusting desk of her deceased employer. Only mere hours earlier, Byron Agnes' stiff carcass had been sitting behind that desk, not that the blonde seemed to care. Then, just out of my view, I saw the flicker of Christy’s bottom, perhaps leaning forward, and then I heard a faint click. Moments later, my goddess appeared in sight. She leaned in and kissed Alice deeply before tracing her hand underneath the edge of the desk. Then, clear as day, I saw her put something, a key perhaps, in a drawer, which she pushed shut. In a moment of clarity, I mentally noted a hidden key and maybe a secret safe. I had no recollection of seeing one in the study earlier.

Christy looked at Alice, then startled me by moving towards the door. By luck, Alice called her back and slid herself onto the desk. She spread her legs, giving me a nice view of her perfectly groomed pussy.

Christy stopped in her tracks, then dropped to her knees and crawled on the floor towards the beautiful blonde. They shared inaudible whispers before Christy dove in between Alice’s legs. By the looks of it, she did a fantastic job. Alice threw her head back and grabbed Christy’s with both hands, pulling her lover into her dripping sex.

Their whispers turned to moans, and I had the perfect view of Christy’s ass and the wet spot forming on her crotch. I thoroughly enjoyed how Christy’s fingers found her snatch and how intensely she rubbed herself before slipping one, no, two fingers inside herself.

When Alice commanded her to stand and bend over the desk, there was nothing but pure desire on Christy’s face. Alice spread her butt cheeks and ran her tongue from her pink snatch and up to her ass, then down again. When the blonde first started fingerfucking Christy’s pussy, both women let out loud moans, but when Alice stuck her fingers up Christy’s butt, Christy exploded in loud shrieks.

I could have watched them for hours—every moan, every touch drawing me deeper into my lust. But my pussy screamed louder than my curiosity. I needed Lester now, more than I needed answers.

I hurried down the hall and didn’t bother to knock. I found Lester in bed, organizing his notes. It was a waste of effort since I tore them out of his hands and discarded them on the floor.

“Fuck my brains out, stud!” I moaned.

And he did. He took me hard, just like I needed him to. He lifted me into euphoric heights as he slammed his cock into me, deep and hard, making me cum so hard I started sobbing. When he finally pulled out and shot his load onto my tits, I was still trembling. God, he was a bull.

My pussy purred with pleasure as I found my way back through the halls of Agnes Hall. I was starting to see the estate with slightly different eyes. Such incredible secrets it contained!

***

I’m not too fond of mornings on most days, but waking up to the intense holler of Lockshire as he pulls the curtains to a new day makes for a miserable start to the day. Of course, he was impeccably dressed and fresh as morning dew, and I was sprawled out on my bed in my nakedness, crusty sperm and all.

“What the fuck,” I muttered.

“Here, have a look,” he said as he handed me his phone.

I pulled the covers up, at least to cover my sperm-covered breasts, and grabbed his phone. I liked what I saw, both personally and from an investigative point of view.

Images upon images of Daniel plowing into Diana from different angles, shooting his sperm onto her face, or just a close-up of her with his cock in her mouth. Then, almost the same images, only this time of Eve. Both looked less dull and far more enthralling in this light.

“Where did you get these?” I asked, my voice cracking with morning staleness.

“I was right in my analyses; the widow likes a good spanking. After her impressive display in the dining room last night, I followed her upstairs and found her sulking in the hallway outside her room. I told her to drop the charades and pulled her into her room, where I tied her firmly to her bed before spanking her with my belt. She moaned in delight as I pushed myself into her, and by her third orgasm, she was spilling the beans about how she had been blinded by Byron’s power and, indeed, money. How she had enjoyed his unstoppable appetite for her body.”

Lockshire paused to take in his own brilliance as if waiting for applause he never got. I was too occupied taking in the raw sexual energy of the images that seemed to be an endless number as I continued scrolling. The women’s faces were hot with desire and pleasure, Daniel’s body dominating their small frames. The intrigue of the powerplays within Agnes Hall and the endless secrets finally escaping its walls intrigued me.

“She went on a long tirade of how Byron’s daughters had mistreated her, how mean they had been to her, and how she noticed Byron’s fading interest in her. She admitted that in her lonesome nights, she had indeed taken comfort in Daniel, and he, too, started using her weakness for domination. He would tie her down and drain himself in all her openings, and as I already knew, she loved every minute of it.”

Lockshire looked down at me and saw the excitement in my eyes.

“Yes, for a brief moment, Loretta found happiness in Agnes Hall. That is until the sisters found out about Daniel and started taking pleasure in him themselves. The images hurt, and Daniel had less time for her with him entertaining the sisters. And he had to entertain the sisters with the threat of them exposing him to their father. Loretta lived with this because, above everything else, she craved wealth.”

“Everyone in this house seems just as despicable as you,” I grinned.

“Getting the images off her phone was easy. She was busy sobbing her tale and sucking my cock, giving me ample time to retrieve them. Oh, and call me despicable as much as you desire; I’m not the one spread naked in front of my colleague, all covered in sperm.”

As I stood in the shower, the memory of the hidden key came to mind. I decided to keep it to myself for now. Lockshire had basked in enough investigative brilliance if he wouldn’t steal my discovery as well.

Besides, I was hungry, and breakfast at Agnes Hall should be an excellent way to mend the rough start to my day.

Breakfast didn’t disappoint. I secured a seat next to Daniel, determined to arrange my interrogation with him. Loretta’s absence was briefly discussed, but I suspected Lockshire had left her tied up in her room.

“So, Daniel, tell me: How do you balance fucking both daughters and your employer’s wife while still maintaining your duties?”

I saw no point in discretion; with each passing second, our killer tried to slip out of our net, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. Daniel’s face turned crimson; his eyes darted nervously around the room. Was it guilt or just the shame of being caught with his pants down—literally? Either way, he was mine for the taking, whether or not he knew it.

“No worries. I’ve seen the pictures, and Lockshire has already heard the story from Loretta’s mouth,” I whispered, “But after breakfast, it is urgent that you come to see me upstairs. Who knows? I may just let you cum on my tits.”

Lockshire sat in deep conversation with Lester and showed a much more toned-down version of himself that morning. Lester had organized his notes, and he was running through his findings.

Then, her scent preceded her, and I smelled her before I heard her cheerful voice. Like a spark of light, Christy entered the room, and the thought of Daniel spraying my tits escaped me.

When she poured my coffee, I whispered, “Meet me in the study at noon.”

“What took you so long to ask?” she giggled.

“I’m not asking,” I replied, but my voice was a mere tremble instead of assertive.

“Are you begging?” she teased, and I whimpered.

Lockshire’s booming voice was my saving bell.

“Indeed, poisoned!” he exclaimed, “Foxglove. A beautiful plant, but deadly like a scorned mistress in rage! And as it happens, a garden full, just outside these walls.”

His stare pierced Daniel, the groundskeeper with firsthand knowledge of the garden. Then, assertively, he directed me.

“Dr. Watts, come with me; we have work to do!”

I confirmed Daniel would come to see me, and Christy’s smile cemented our deal. Then, like the obedient little bitch I was, I took heel at Lockshire’s side.

“Everything points to the widow,” he whispered, “A shame. I took much enjoyment in her. Nevertheless, only hers and Byron’s prints were on the glass, and the trace evidence of the glass confirmed what they found in his system. A damned shame, indeed.”

“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?”

“What are you implying? Don’t be absurd, Jo! I never jump to conclusions, and you know this! Absurd!”

“I have a few clues,” I admitted, “Give me until this afternoon to follow up on them.”

“Oh, really? You have a few clues? Tell you what, Jo. If you’re right, you get to drive home. If I’m right, I finally get to fuck your ass. A deal?”

I nodded.

“And, when I’m right, no more ‘Jo.’ Always Dr. Watts.”

He returned my nod of agreement and hurried up the stairs. I was presented with another dilemma; I had a few clues Lockshire hadn’t seen or perhaps hadn’t cared to see. But whether they led to the widow or someone else, I wasn’t sure. What I was sure of, though, was that my ass was quite literally on the line, and for once, I didn’t mind one bit.

There was no time to waste, so I made my way up the stairs.

There was an ugly two-seater off to the side of the study, and as much as I despised its appearance, I found it surprisingly comfortable. Agnes Hall had indeed started to grow on me; I could look at it with a little more than contempt.

I undid the top button of my blouse while I waited, then one more. Finally, the third gave way, making sure my ample, milky white breasts were on good display.

Finally, his footsteps hit the bottom of the stairs. They rang in Agnes Hall's hollow voice, a somewhat somber whimper that echoed through its vast halls. His steps were hesitant, but finally, he emerged on top of the staircase. He looked around, confused, until his eyes adjusted to the dim light and saw me in the shadows.

“Come, sit,” I invited and patted the seat next to me.

He sat down and sighed.

I put my hand on his thigh and leaned in, and with a warm breath, I whispered, “What are your secrets, Daniel? How do you keep three women satisfied all the while eluding the prying eyes of the husband and father?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he whimpered.

“Then tell me where I’m mistaken,” I whispered and moved my hand to his crotch.

“Byron knew.”

Faint clanks and muffled screams carried through the east wing. I recognized Loretta’s voice. Indeed, Lockshire had returned for more. Daniel’s eyes shifted uneasily in the direction of her cries.

I eased his fly open and was pleased to see he was already starting to get hard. He helped me ease his pants down, and I happily freed his impressive cock.

“Really?” I said, caressing his balls, “Byron knew, and yet you live to tell the tale.”

I slid down onto the floor and undid my blouse, freeing my perfect tits. He liked what he saw and moaned slightly as I rubbed them against his cock.

“He caught me sneaking out of Loretta's…their room one night. He just stood there, watching me, with a grin. Then he ordered me into his study. We have a ‘situation,’ he told me. It was quite ‘serious,’ he said.”

I found Daniel’s story intriguing and noticed his voice turned breathier with each word. Perhaps it was my magic touch to his cock, but seeing as my hungry lips hadn’t wrapped themselves around his deliciously inviting head yet, I suspected it was more telling his story that had him going. Or perhaps it was just Loretta’s intensifying cries of pleasure that egged him?

“He told me to undress and stand before him. He asked me if I cared to explain why my cock smelled of his wife… He then stood and pushed me face down on his desk. I still hear his belt buckle cling and the sound of his zipper… Then he pushed himself inside me.”

I wrapped my lips around his cock; it was already starting to throb. His words were more breathy whispers escaping him than coherent sentences.

“It…it wasn’t the fact that he fucked me that hurt.”

Accompanied by the steady thumps, likely the headboard of a bed slamming against the wall, and Loretta’s shrieks, I pushed two fingers up his ass. I started massaging his prostate, joining the rhythm of what was undoubtedly Lockshire pounding into Loretta. He wept as he pushed himself onto my fingers.

“It was the fact that he made me cum like no woman had ever been able to,” he hulked, “and that from that night, he completely owned me, like everything and everyone else. I couldn’t stop myself. I hated him intensely, yet still returned for more, more, more…”

With that, he shot a massive load over my tits. I watched his thick cum trail down their perfect round shape and drip onto the fabric of the sofa. Indeed, they looked better with cum stains.

He moaned again as I pulled my fingers out of him. Loretta had fallen silent.

“Yet, the Foxglove wasn’t your idea, was it? Although, you did have a hand in collecting them?”

I had been too eager and let him cum too soon. He shut down and resigned into his seat. I wiped my breast on the couch, delightfully staining Byron’s precious possession into a worthless piece of wood and fabric.

“It matters not,” I sighed, “I would have let you fuck me if you played along. Perhaps another time? Unless you’re in jail, of course.”

I left him there to collect himself. I knew he’d run to his accomplice as soon as he could. The board was set, and the pieces were in motion. I, on the other hand, had to prepare for Act II.

I lingered restlessly in my room as the clock was in no hurry to move forward. Indeed, by now, Daniel would have discussed my interrogation with his accomplice. They were trying to figure out which pieces of the puzzle I had, which ones I was missing, and how far I was from putting them all together.

Finally, noon arrived, and I hurried my way to the study. She was already there, sitting in Byron’s chair. She greeted me with her bright smile.

“Dr. Watts, I'm so happy to talk to you!” she said, “Assuming talking was on your mind?”

She spread her legs, making sure I got a proper view of her smooth, delicious pussy. My heart skipped a beat, and my cunt hissed. Christy was a distraction in herself, and she knew how to play her role.

“There’s a key hidden in the desk; what does it open?” I said, my voice too thick with desire to intimidate.

She giggled and played with the hem of her skirt, pulling it further up.

“Make me cum, and I’ll tell you my secret,” she egged.

“There’s a safe, right?” my voice trembled.

She looked at me as her hand started rubbing her pussy, she glistened with wetness, and her finger slid inside her effortlessly.

“Oh, Doctor, please come and play. I do need a thorough examination,” she demanded.

I swallowed hard as I watched her get up and approach me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply. She stole my breath and melted my mind, and when she pushed me down into her crotch, I drowned in her moisture. Even as my tongue found her slick folds, the thought of the hidden key tugged at the back of my mind. Christy’s moans were distracting, but I knew this was just another game, one that I needed to win.

Christy’s moans intensified as she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me harder onto her. Her juices were overflowing as she started to fuck my face. My cunt started joining Christy’s whimpers. I grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her onto me. My fingers groped and found her anus, and as I rubbed her, she commanded me not to stop. As soon as my finger entered her rear, she exploded onto my face, her trembling thighs locked around my head, and we fell to the floor with her straddling my face.

Her tremors subsided, and when her thighs loosened, I gasped for air.

“You have deserved your key,” she panted, “But how did you know?”

I could not compute. My pussy was screaming too loudly in my head. I pulled up my skirt, and my hand found my clit, and I started rubbing it intensely. I had an almost immediate release; I gushed my cum over Byron Agnes’ overpriced rug and screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Impressive,” Christy moaned as she sat on the floor watching me.

Finally, she got up, and as I had watched her the night before, she fiddled with something underneath the desktop, and then I heard a slight ‘click.’ A drawer appeared, and Christy fished out the key.

She held it before me, “How did you know?” she whispered.

I told her I had observed her hiding the key the night before, watched her and Alice, and truly enjoyed the show.

“Oh, why didn’t you join us?”

I told her I had more urgent matters to attend.

“And the safe?”

“Come here,” she tempted, “I’ll show you.”

Her ass swayed; it was all I could see and think of. She was truly divine. Everything about her made my mind hazy, and I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with the ease with which she made me lose control. Her goddamned scent!

She led me to a large painting in an ornate golden frame. Her soft, long fingers traced the bottom of the frame, and with a click, the painting swung open from the wall. And there it was, the old safe.

“There you go,” she breathed into my neck.

She stepped away, but as I fiddled with the key, her hands clung around me and grabbed my breasts, and her soft pinch to my nipples sent sweet shivers down my spine. I gasped loudly but managed to keep my mind somewhat focused.

My hands shook as I tried to fit the key into the keyhole, Christy’s hands traced southwards. Finally, the key clanked into place, her hands lifted my skirt slightly, caressing the low of my ass.

My whimper almost drowned out the click of the lock as I turned the key; Christy’s hand traced the inside of my thigh. My arms went limp; I mustered whatever strength they had left to turn the handle, but as the safe swung open, Christy’s fingers slid inside me, and I was lost in a raging fire of lust and desire.

***

“Tick, tock! Time is almost up!” Lockshire almost yelled, startling my well-deserved sleep.

Christy’s scent still lingered on me, and not even Lockshire’s obnoxious presence could shatter the almost overwhelming sense of joy and pure excitement that washed over me at smelling her on myself.

“Hush, boy wonder,” I smiled, “You are late!”

Finally, his smug confidence cracked as he sent me a confused look.

“Sit,” I said, patting the bed beside me.

As he sat, I got up, and he lifted an eyebrow at the scratch marks on my thighs. I bent down, exaggerated so that he could get a good look at the ass he desired, and picked up the large pile of documents from the table by the window.

I didn’t find his usual impatient face when I turned to him. He looked far more concerned about trying to hide his apparent interest in my behind.

“Exhibit A,” I said and handed him the photos.

They were all of Loretta. Sneaking into suspect clubs, getting into strangers’ cars, and entering numerous hotels. Then, bound, gagged, and gangbanged while her face shone with delight and ecstasy. The last few showed her passed out and covered in cum.

A letter addressed to Byron threatened to expose his wife unless a substantial amount was transferred to a Swiss bank account.

Finally, the credit card bills detailing Loretta’s expenses during her escapades amounted to more than the cost of keeping them secret.

I watched Lockshire switch from confused to investigative as he flipped through the photos, studied the documents, and examined my evidence.

I got up and poured him a drink. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt before taking a big gulp.

“Interesting,” he said.

“Exhibit B should get you going,” I whispered, handing a large pile of documents.

I watched his excitement grow as he flipped through the papers. I knew he was starting to get hard, as he always did when his mind started working. There was correspondence between Loretta’s lawyer and herself, between Loretta and Byron’s lawyer, and a handful of notes that looked to be in the pen of Byron himself.

The letters between Loretta and her lawyer indiscreetly described how to have Eve and Diana written out of Byron’s will. The letters between Loretta and Byron’s lawyer were more hinting and suggestive, at least the first few. Then, they became more personal, as it was evident that she had managed to seduce his lawyer as well. The shift in tone suggested that Byron’s man had now started grooming Byron to have him consider changing his will.

Then there were Byron’s notes. First, he finds Loretta persisting in leaving his daughters out of the will. Then, he questions his lawyer’s change in tone regarding his will. The last note caught Lockshire’s attention just as it had mine when I first read it.

“You can always count on lawyers to lie. It is indeed their profession. As for Loretta, I should know not to expect better from her; the lying cunt used to amuse me, but I no longer find thrill in her. She is too willing and accepting of her fate, a lustful whore, and no more. There is no sense of shame in her when I use her and no sense of conquest in it for me. And she is barren like a dried-out twig; she can’t offer me a son. What use is she to me?

But that Simmonds should fall for her games? After all our years, I expected more from him. Little does he know I’ve had his draft of a will nullified and burned and had the excellent man Trembley write up a new one. The estate must stay in the family. Eve and Diana will get a fair share, but how big depends on Christy’s child. If all goes well, it will be a boy. Hopefully, it's more my skin tone than hers. Too bad his mother will succumb to the same terrible illness that took the girl’s mother from them. I’ve had the divorce papers prepared; it would be suspicious if my second wife also lost her life under tragic circumstances.

I can count on Trembley’s complete devotion and loyalty. He would not want the pictures of him and those young men to surface.

Poor Simmonds. When I fired him, he threatened to expose my house and family. Blackmail? It would be terrible if something should befall him.”

Attached to the back with a paper clip, images of a middle-aged man engaged in quite graphic entertainment with a group of young men and a newspaper clipping with the headline “Famous attorney killed in hit and run!”

Lockshire’s breath deepened, and the bugle in his pants looked painful. He shifted and unbuttoned his pants before pulling down his zipper. His cock sprung out of his pants; he was rock hard.

“Excellent work, Jo, proving my case!” he exclaimed confidently.

Excitement rose in me at watching Lockshire’s all-so-predictable reaction to my findings. I teased him, sliding a finger up my wet slit and then sucking my finger into my mouth.

“You don’t know your A, B, C’s, do you?” I whispered and handed him the contract signed by Loretta.

A million dollars is the price she was willing to pay Christy to disappear from Agnes Hall forever and make sure Byron would never find her unborn child.

“Exhibit C,” I said with a smile.

“More proof for my strong case!” he said triumphantly.

“So it would seem, my stud,” I sighed and leaned in and kissed his cock. It smelled and tasted of pussy. No doubt Loretta’s.

As I parted my lips and let the slick head of his cock into my mouth, I was still pondering if my conversation with Christy was worthwhile mentioning. What good would it do to share how Alice and she had wanted Byron gone? He had threatened to fire Alice for refusing to get pregnant with his child, which made her fear for her life, knowing the fate of his first wife. Was it really worth mentioning how the two young women had decided to raise Christy’s child as their own?

Alice had already set up the paperwork; the adaptation papers were signed. All I had to do was give Lockshire exhibit D.

Christy had been most helpful in guiding me to Diana’s diary. It was well documented how both sisters loathed what their father was, but they hated Loretta more. However, they loved Alice’s control over the estate. Her reports of her findings regarding the will, their stepmother, and their father’s increasingly extravagant and cruel actions made them eagerly agree to have their father removed and Loretta framed for the murder.

I mounted Lockshire, sliding onto him the way I knew he loved. He was lost in heat and sucked onto my tits the way he knew I loved it.

No, Lockshire didn’t need to know about Diana’s last diary entry:

“Dearest diary, may you never spill your secrets. He will be gone tonight, and Eve and I can breathe again. As can this suffocating house. Imagine it filled with Christy’s cheerful spirit! Imagine her giving us a little sibling. We are so happy she and Alice found such incredible love in a house like this.

Sweet Daniel agreed to make the poison. ‘The garden is full of lethal beauty,’ he had said. Eve rewarded him with a blowjob; she even swallowed, she told me. Signe will prepare his drink, ensuring the glass only has Loretta’s fingerprints.

I can’t wait to see her face as she’s hauled out of our house. I hope they fry her. I will gladly attend her execution.

Today has been a day of farewell. I kissed my father goodbye after dinner, yet he didn’t know it. Tomorrow? Tomorrow shall be glorious!”

I rode him hard, in part because he had a wonderful cock, but mostly because my knowledge gave me power over him, and that drove my cunt crazy. Lockshire’s black-and-white relationship with the law made him incapable of choosing the moral right.

Byron Agnes had been a despicable man. The world had lost nothing with his death, but quite several people I had learned to love had gained so much from him being gone.

Loretta Agnes? Perhaps she had once been a victim, but she had no concern for anyone but herself. She deserved to rot in prison. Her need to be dominated would indeed be met there.

Christy didn’t belong in prison. Had she manipulated me? Oh, yes, in so many ways. By letting me love her, she secured herself and all of those lovely people who had endured Agnes Hall for such a long time. They deserved better. And I made sure they got better. All I had to do was love her.

I slid off Lockshire’s cock, got up, and leaned over the table.

“Fuck my ass,” I moaned.

***

As Lester guided Loretta into the waiting car, cursing and screaming her innocence, the clouds cracked and let a beam of sunlight shine down on Agnes Hall. Lockshire fiddled with his keys as he watched the car drive off.

“Damned shame,” he muttered, “But I have connections in most correctional facilities; surely, they will let me see her. After all, she is an interesting case that needs to be studied.”

I didn’t care to reply; he was insatiable. He had cum so hard fucking my ass, and yet, here he was, laying plans to do her again. She must have been good. I stashed Diana’s diary under his coat in the car.

“Shall we?” he asked and jingled the keys, reminding me he was driving.

“Not this time,” I said, unable to hide my smile. I’ve been invited to stay, and frankly, I could use some time to relax.”

“So be it,” he said and got in the car.

I watched him take off and was happy to see him gone. The walk up the stairs, now bathed in sunlight, was soothing—not as relaxing as the sight of Alice and Christy greeting me.

“Make me cum, and I’ll keep our secret,” Christy whispered and kissed me.