Domanade Tryx

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Thirteen lashes. A measly thirteen lashes. That’s all he got. All he bought. All he wanted. But fate overcharged him – and demanded payment in full. Death. [[Domanade Tryx]] stared at the flabby naked body of Endyn Quadald, lying face-down on the bed atop scarlet silk sheets, his limbs trussed up with some of her used black-thong undies. [[2<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She had a robust figure and a pretty, petulant face and violent violet eyes and lavender hair streaked with emerald green in a tangled mass that fell to her broad shoulders, and she wore a charcoal gray troll-leather bodice and shorts, and knee-high scarlet dragon-leather boots with silver toes. [[stared at the flabby<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She ran a finger over the angry red streaks on his freckled backside, surprised to see flecks of blood. She was a master whipstress and never drew blood by accident. Had she gotten carried away? Was she losing her touch? Not likely. And if things *had* gone too far, why didn’t Endyn use his [[safe words?]] He’d seemed perfectly happy -- until all of a sudden he let out a big, choking gasp and went all spazzy and pooped himself and then his body shut down and his eyes stayed open, glazed by death. [[3<-continue]]

Plum pudding [[2a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))He’d seemed perfectly happy -- until all of a sudden he let out a big, choking gasp and went all spazzy and pooped himself and then his body shut down and his eyes stayed open, glazed by death. [[3<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She leaned against the wall, staring at the floor, wracking her brain... *Ding!* The door chime! But no one was scheduled for the next hour. She shoved her cat-o-nine-tails into a sheath on her belt, scurried to the door and peered through the spy hole, eyeing the front room. “Fuck!” The beat cop! What the hell was she doing there? It wasn’t time for the monthly shakedown. Dom took a deep breath and... [[ran out the back way]] [[went out front to greet the officer]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Domanade ran down the alley, nearly stumbling over a wolf boy gnawing on a still-squirming cat. She clambered over a ten-foot-tall corrugated tin wall (easy if you knew where the dents were) and navigated the maze of narrow, shadow-clogged streets and moldering buildings that made up the notorious Kinkersor district. [[Go to Papillion Street]] [[Go to Sarpy Street]] [[Go to Gretna Street]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Dom opened the door, strolled into the front room and smiled at [[Sgt. Calla O’Gurk of the Dredfulia Police Department.]] [[3a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She wore her carrot-red hair in braids with the tips tied into little hangman’s nooses and she kept her top three shirt buttons undone to show off her boobs – tattooed with tiny skulls indicating the number of suspects she’d killed. [[3a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“You’re early,” Dom said. “I don’t have the dough.” Calla’s beady black eyes drilled into her. “I’m not here for that. We got a tip you’re selling contraband merchandise -- Yeti-fur cloaks, Bexa amulets, Ducci knockoffs...” “That’s utter bullshit!” “Maybe, but I gotta check it out. The caller said your back room is chock full of the stuff. Let’s take a look.” Dom stepped in front of her. “Hold on a minute. You got a warrant?” “You got something to hide?” “Of course not. But if you think you can just waltz in here and...” The cop barged past her and entered the back room ... froze. Dom backed quietly toward the front door. O’Gurk spun around, drawing her Pyth & Messun 1916 beam pistol. “I knew you’d cross the line someday, Tryx. Looks like this is the day.” “Hey, I had nothing to...” “Save it for the judge.” She pulled handcuffs from her belt. “Get your ass over here.” [[make a run for it]] [[submit to arrest]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She stared at the flabby naked body of Endyn Quadald, lying face-down on the bed atop scarlet silk sheets, his limbs trussed up with some of her used black-thong undies. [[2<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Domanade lingered in the hospital for two weeks, waiting for the Dredfulia Health Service to schedule skin grafts. At the start of the third week she came down with an infection and by Friday she was dead. Case closed. [[ran out the back way<-try again]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Just beyond six dark-green silo-sized cylinders at the Papillion Street hydro-waste station, Domanade came to a row of cinderblock structures squatting beneath a maze of intersecting highway overpasses. She entered the third building and walked into [[Tragdush LeatherWorks,]] where a dozen craftspeople sat at three long tables, toiling away. [[bureny<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She came to a splintery, faded pink door in the middle of the block. A hand-written sign on an index card in a brass holder screwed to the front of the door said “Chubbutt Club.” She entered, passed through an angled vestibule and stepped into the main room, where two dozen people were sitting in metal folding chairs on three makeshift wooden tiers watching the [[Chubbutts]] strut their stuff on a scuffed-up green-and-white linoleum floor beneath two small spotlights mounted in brackets on a water-stained cellulose ceiling. [[sarpy2<-continue]]

Wrong choice. As punishment you must read a portion of a poem about a witch in a library, which has nothing to do with the story. [[excerpt1<-take your punishment]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:white)+(bg:#364fc7))(align:"<==")+(box:"=XXX=")[= Turintana entered the tower, an ivy-walled ivory edifice, as the shelf-centered librarian regarded her with Dewey eyes The witch went to the stacks in the back, her fingers lingering over the empty slot where a quaint and curious volume once reposed on a shadowy shelf She turned around and walked into the washroom to rinse the shadows off her hands and when she bent beneath the basin, there it was, lying atop the sweating pipes, a big black book, condensation version, How many times had readers perused these unpermitted pages during the Dark Ages? How many scalded scholars had been crisped by the script of this unburnable book? (text-colour:yellow)[[return to story]]

Where the hell do you think you’re going? [[POEM2<-Keep reading, scumball!]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:white)+(bg:#364fc7))(align:"<==")+(box:"=XXX=")[=Turintana set the book aside, thus lowering the volume, and heightened her hearing, softly singing a tune to the moon, written by a murdered minstrel who luted his lyrics from a ransacked shack and was strung up for his trouble one fine strummer’s day The lunar lyrics struck a chord, for the moon believes in the crater good, and Turintana grasped the cord and hauled herself up to a higher level, rising with the morning dues. She located the library’s libations and some crumpled crumpets in secluded stacks and helped herself to some food for thought Because those who don’t learn from the repast are doomed to reap-eat it (text-colour:yellow)[[ran out the back way<-punishment complete]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Domanade stood off to the side and watched Pengzoit and his two friends, Dengizik and Ernak, perform their routine, wearing nothing but scarlet silk bowties and green felt [[“bycocket” hats]] with drooping yellow dodo feathers as they danced to *repepa* music blaring from tinny speakers. [[skip the sordid dance details]] [[give me those sordid dance details]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))with drooping yellow dodo feathers as they danced to *repepa* music blaring from tinny speakers. [[skip the sordid dance details]] [[give me those sordid dance details]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:white)+(bg:#c92a2a))Bright eyes and big grins enlivened the Chubbutts’ cherubic faces as they put their plump pink bodies through twisty shimmies and jerky arm gestures. As dancers they were strictly meh, but that wasn’t what the crowd had come to see. Soon the boys’ flaccid, flopping, twelve-inch-long dicks stiffened, rising to a forty-five degree angle, growing longer and longer – two feet, three feet, four, five... The crowd went nuts, hooting and stomping and clapping as the Chubbuts went into a bump-and-grind and their spear-like dongs twirled in three-foot-wide circles. Following some clumsy two-steps and flossies, the act came to a climax when the Chubbutts formed a circle, dancing a conga and whacking their shafts against each other’s butts like school teachers caning stupid students. (text-colour:yellow)[[skip the sordid dance details<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))The Chubbutts had donned blue-and-white checkered boxers -- their now-flaccid dicks barely making a bulge in the crotches – and were sitting on a padded red leather bench sipping glowing sky-blue moon juice through straws stuck in martini glasses and munching on dried earth worms from a yellow plastic bowl. When Pengzoit saw Domanade he flashed a gappy smile and spouted his usual greeting: “Hey, Dommie! How’s tricks?” The other boys giggled, although they’d heard the pun a hundred times before. “I’m in a jam,” she said. “The cops are after me and I need a place to hide.” “Oh yeah? What did you do?” “Nothing. Someone set me up, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out how they did it.” She filled him in. “Wow. That’s weird. You *are* in a jam.” “So can I stay here for a few days, a week at the most, till I can make other arrangements?” He grinned. “You have to ask? What are friends for?” He shoved some more worms into his mouth and talked as he chewed. “But it’ll cost ya.” “I figured it would. How much?” [[“Five hundred bucks”]] [[“Three butt blasts a day”]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She cringed. “After what happened, I’d like to shy away from whippings for awhile.” “Aw come on. Don’t wimp out. Think of the risk I’m taking. If O’Gurk finds out I’m hiding you, I’ll be in a shitload of trouble. Why begrudge me a few freebies?” Sigh. “OK, OK.” She reluctantly drew her cat-o-nine-tails from the sheath on her belt. “Just give me a sec to visit the restroom and wash the blood off the tails.” His eyes lit up. “Blood? From the dead guy?” “Yeah.” “Ooh! Leave it on! Leave it on!” “Uh ... OK. If that’s the way you want it.” “I do!” He turned to Dengizik and Ernak. “Off the bench, boys!” They hopped down and stood nearby, eagerly anticipating the spectacle. Pengzoit stretched out on the bench, lying on his big belly and resting his chubby chin on his stubby, folded hands. [[5<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Domanade got into a wide stance, cocked her whip arm, put on her best sneer and mouthed a little standard BDSM patter. [[“You lowly slave!”]] [[“You disgusting little boy!]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“How dare you disobey my commands! I shall flay the flesh from your worthless backside and feed it to my hounds! I shall...” “No, no,” Pengzoit said. “Do the other one. The mommy one.” “Oh. Alright.” [[“You disgusting little boy!]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Suddenly the happy grimace twisted into true agony and the kicks turned into spastic jerks as the lacerations purpled, the color spreading into the surrounding tissue and creeping up his back like a swollen river overflowing its banks. He gasped and gurgled, his eyes panic-stricken, his body wracked by convulsions. “Plum pudding!” he groaned. “Plummmm...” His body jerked one last time and stiffened. His eyes bulged, then slowly closed. Domanade dropped her whip. “Oh Goddess! Not again!” [[7<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))[[Zoitia Elloskette]] inserted a hypodermic needle into Pengzoit’s butt, injecting him with 50 milliliters of Clorox bleach. The vivid purple streaks began fading and shrinking almost immediately. He inhaled deeply and groaned. His eyelids fluttered. His head rose. “What ...what happened?” he said. “Good question,” Domanade said. [[7a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She had the typical features of a Nugataurian – spindly limbs, six-fingered hands, a football-shaped head, yellow diamond eyes and a stubby tail sporting a bright red impstone cap on the tip -- although younger Nugataurians preferred caps with blue-and-white stripes or Kelly-green dots. [[inserted<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))She inserted a hypodermic needle into Pengzoit’s butt, injecting him with 50 milliliters of Clorox bleach. The vivid purple streaks began fading and shrinking almost immediately. He inhaled deeply and groaned. His eyelids fluttered. His head rose. “What ...what happened?” he said. “Good question,” Domanade said. [[7a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))The middle facets of Zoitia’s eyes telescoped as she peered at the lash wounds. She reached into her healer’s bag and took out a tube of ointment, squeezed some of the brown goo onto the palm of her hand and smeared it over Pengzoit’s butt. “You’re lucky you’re not human,” she said. “You would’ve been dead in no time. As it was, the poison disrupted your *vitalo sorceralo* and made you real sick, but I bleached it out of your system. You should be good as new in a few hours.” “Thanks, doc,” he said. Domanade stared at the healer. “Did you say poison?” “Yep. I surmise it entered his system through the lacerations.” She picked the whip up off the floor, sniffed the lashes, nodded. “[[Ploonshade.]]”

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))A black-petaled flower growing along the canal banks on Rigel 14, Ploonshade was the prime ingredient in the war gas deployed by the Northern Quadrant Peace Force during the Phlet Conflict nearly twenty years ago. [[8<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“How the hell did Ploonshade get on my whip?” Domanade demanded. Zoitia shrugged. “I’m a healer, not a detective.” The dominatrix stared hard at the whip ... blinked. “Hey, this isn’t mine! It’s got little barbs on the lashes. And there’s no nick on the end of the handle. How in hell did I end up with a different...” Her mind raced. Her eyes narrowed. “Marionelle!” [[9<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))[[Marionelle Mortsala]] was her first client of the evening. She usually paid cash for her sessions, but this time she’d offered Domanade some high grade [[Venus Dust]], which the two of them had shared. Normally Dom could handle “Ven” just fine, but this stuff had knocked her out. She’d woken up an hour later, just in time for her next client – Endyn Quadald. And Marionelle was gone. Who except Marionelle could have switched whips? But why would she do such a thing? Domanade didn’t know her very well, but they had no issues. [[pay a visit to Marionelle Mortsala]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))After the Chubbutts scrounged up a blue cotton dress for Domanade to wear over her dominatrix costume so she wouldn’t attract too much attention – and threw in a pair of sunglasses and a black slouch hat for good measure – she left the club and made her way through the convoluted streets until she got to [[*M’s Puff Den*]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Nine customers lay on bunks stacked three high in the subterranean room, sucking on the stems of hookahs made of rainbow-hued glass and polished, highly scrolled brass. As the imbibers exhaled the smoke it rose into the air in various entwining colors – emerald, gold, aqua, crimson, gray and silver – forming weird shapes: impossible castles and fantastic beasts and malformed faces bearing odd expressions. The smoke strands twisted and spiraled and undulated through the room, matching the hallucinations drifting through the users’ minds. [[9a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Marionelle emerged from a back room through a clattering curtain of black and tan beads. Her smile faltered when she recognized her visitor. “Well hello, Domanade,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “What brings you here?” “I want to talk to you.” She nodded at the curtain. “Let’s go in the back.” “I’m kind of busy right...” “It’ll only take a minute. It’s important.” “I’d like to, but...” “Really important.” Marionelle gave her an uneasy look, then waved Domanade toward the back room. [[enter back room]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“I’ve been thinking,” Domanade said. “That was some heavy duty Ven you gave me. Worth a lot more than that six-stroker I dished out. How about I give you a little more lash, on the house?” She slipped a hand into a pocket of her dress and produced her cat-o-nine-tails. Marionelle laughed nervously. “Oh, that’s not necessary.” “I insist.” “I appreciate the offer, but now’s not a good ...” Domanade grabbed Marionelle’s bare arm and brought the lashes down hard. Marionelle yelped and jerked free, glaring at the dominatrix. “Dammit, Dom, I told you I don’t have time right now! What’s gotten into you? Are you still tripping off that Ven?” “No, I was just testing you. If you knew about the poison, you’d be freaking out right now. But you passed the test.” “Poison? What are you talking about?” “The poison on the little barbs on the whip you swopped for mine – after I passed out from those knockout drops you put in the Ven. I used the whip on a customer and he died.” Marionelle gaped in horror at the marks on her arm. “Oh my Goddess! No!” [[relax<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“Relax. This isn’t the same whip. I borrowed it from a friend.” Marionelle let out a shuddery sigh of relief. “Don’t scare me like that!” Domanade thrust the ‘cat’ into her face. “You’re not off the hook yet. Tell me why you switched whips.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Yes you do.” “No, I...” With a flick of her wrist, Domanade wrapped the lashes around Marionelle’s neck and twisted the handle, tightening the pressure. “Urgh!” Marionelle said. “Tell me!” Marionelle struggled, squirming, twisting, gurgling, gagging. “Plum pudding!” she croaked. “Plum pudding!” “This isn’t a kink game, bitch!” Domanade snapped. “The only safe words I’ll accept are the ones that answer my question.” “I ... can’t ... talk ... if ... I ... can’t ... breathe.” [[Keep squeezing]] [[Ease off]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Domanade was too pissed to let up. Even when Marionelle’s eyes rolled to the top of her head and her face turned blue, the dominatrix kept twisting. When Marionelle’s body jerked and went limp and her head lolled to the side, only then did Domanade realize the danger and release the pressure. Too late. “Shit!” [[squeeze2<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Domanade loosened the lash lasso just a bit. Marionelle sucked in a breath. “No more stalling!” the dominatrix snarled. “Gimme the story. All of it.” “OK. OK. I was offered two hundred bucks to make the switch.” “By who?” “Tadyn Gurtz.” “Who’s he?” “Don’t you know?” “Never heard of him.” “He said you knew each other.” “He was lying. Tell me about him.” [[13<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))The cops caught Domanade a week later and charged her with one count of manslaughter and one count of second-degree murder. She was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. Two months later she got into a fight with another inmate, who stabbed her with a shiv hidden in her shoe. By the time the guards got around to summoning help, the dominatrix was dead. [[Ease off<-try again]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“He goes to the same laundry place I do – Duddy Wash over on Linc Street – and he usually shows up Saturday mornings, same as me, and we’ve chatted a few times. A few weeks ago I happened to mention I was into kink, but he changed the subject real quick and seemed kind of embarrassed so I didn’t bring it up again. And then the other day, out of the blue, he shows up here – first time he’d ever been in my place – and he tells me he likes kink too and he asks me who my domme is and I tell him and he says he knows you too and he has a thing for dommes and he’s traveled all over the country visiting various dungeons and collecting whips as souvenirs and he wants to add yours to his collection, but you refuse to sell it to him so he offers me two hundred bucks to swipe it and leave a copy in its place. He said you’d never notice the difference.” Domanade stared at her for a good ten seconds before she replied. “You have got to be kidding me. I can’t believe you fell for a cock-and-bull story like that!” “You mean he didn’t try to buy your whip?” “Hell no!” “I’m sorry, Dom. I figured his story was so crazy it had to be true. I never would’ve helped him if I’d known he was up to no good. I swear it.” “Yeah, whatever. So where’s my whip now?” Marionelle went to a desk at the back of the room, opened a drawer, took out the whip, brought it to Domanade. “Why did he do it, Dom? What earthly reason could he have?” “I have no idea. But I intend to find out.” [[14<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Wearing baggy dark-blue coveralls she bought at a thrift store, Domanade entered the main building at Gurtz Industries, one of the biggest factories in Dredfulia, “makers of Attack Mach Combat Contraptions and other ferrous fabrications,” according to the five-foot-high letters painted on the front of the building. Above her and to the right, a half-dozen ten-foot-tall buckets of molten iron ore hung over massive metal molds, casting garish pools of orange light on the ceiling as they made gloppy bubbling sounds. Domanade climbed rusting metal stairs to a catwalk and entered the office pod, glancing out the dirty windows at the other side of the factory floor far below, where thirteen giant headless war-bots crouched, their hollow steel spines topped by sprouts of thick cables and conduits. [[15<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“May I help you?” said a middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair and big tortoise-shell glasses. “Pipe inspector, City Sanitation,” Domanade said. “I gotta tell your boss about a leak.” “Uh ... could I see some identification?” “No time.” Domanade walked on by, heading for a glass-walled inner office where a paunchy fifty-ish man with thinning, graying hair and a creased face sat behind a paper-littered desk, talking on the phone. [[16<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“...and find out where that case of sprocket lifters went. The bill of lading says...” Tadyn Gurtz looked up as Domanade strolled up to his desk. “Hold on a second,” he said, and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Who the hell are you and how did you get past my secretary?” “Domanade Tryx.” A startled expression flickered through his eyes. “I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone, then hung up, scowling at Domanade. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” “Does the name Marionelle Mortsala mean something to you?” Another flicker. “No.” “How about Endyn Quadald?” “Never heard of him. Look, I don’t know what you want and I don’t give a damn, but you’d better get the hell out of here before I call the cops.” [[17<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Domanade reached into her pocket and took out her whip. “You paid Mortsala to switch my whips. Tell me all about it or I’ll give you a taste of your own poison!” Fear flashed across his face. The door opened. “Is everything alright, Mr. Gurtz?” the secretary said. [[“Peachy,” Domanade said, without turning around. “Get out.”]] [[Domanade whirled around and punched the secretary in the face]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))The secretary came up behind Domanade and grabbed her whip arm. Dom turned and punched the bitch with her free hand, knocking her down, but the momentary distraction was all Gurtz needed; he yanked open a desk drawer, whipped out a Brawning beam gun and fired. “Ahh!” The red ray scalded Dom’s face. She hit the floor hard. Gurtz kept his finger on the trigger, watching with grim satisfaction as the beam melted her flesh, burst her eyeballs, incinerated her hair, cooked her brain. The last sound Domanade ever heard was the secretary, retching. [[18<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))The secretary thudded to the floor, her glasses flying off her head and clattering into a corner. Domanade spun back to face Gurtz, just in time to see him reach into an open desk drawer. She leapt onto the desk and kicked him in the chin. He fell out of his chair, a beam gun flying from his hand. She jumped off the desk, landing on top of him, stomping into his crotch and chest with her hobnailed boots. “Yeow!” She raised the whip. “You wanna talk ... or die?” “Alright! Alright! I admit it. I set you up.” “Why? What did I ever do to you?” [[19<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Gurtz carried Domanade’s corpse along the catwalk and dumped it into one of the giant ore buckets. Eventually, her melted remains – melded into metal – ended up in the chest plate of an Attack Mach. A fitting fate. [[Domanade whirled around and punched the secretary in the face<-try a preemptive strike on the secretary]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))As they passed a trio of goggled workers manning spinning lathes, Gurtz shouted, “Help! This crazy bitch is kidnapping me! She’s a saboteur! Take her down!” The men looked up, startled. They glanced at each other, started toward her. She brandished the pistol. “Don’t try it.” Gurtz shouted: “A thousand-buck bonus for the guy who takes her down!” Two of the men grabbed wrenches off a work bench. Another picked up a steel stool. They moved in. Dom set the pistol on Stun and swept the beam back and forth. “Uhh! Uhh! Uhh!” Down they went, out cold. Cussing, Gurtz kicked her in the shin and elbowed her in the side, breaking her hold, then made a run for it. Domanade started to squeeze the trigger. [[20<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))After they left the factory, Domanade put Gurtz into her rented jalopy and drove him to the nearest police station, where she dropped him off outside a back door with the confession pinned to his shirt – by a stiletto, the blade stuck deep in his heart. She uncuffed his dead hands and placed one of them on the stiletto’s handle, then drove off. [[epilogue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))*Vutt!* A hammer struck her in the nape of her neck, thrown by someone on the catwalk above. She fell to her knees, stunned. Gurtz rushed toward her. She raised the gun. He kicked it out of her hand. It landed ten feet away. She got up and raced Gurtz. He reached the gun a split second sooner and kicked it again, sending it skittering across the floor, striking the foot of a workman at a conveyor belt. “Shoot her!” Gurtz said. “She’s a saboteur!” The workman stared at the gun, then gaped at Gurtz. “Don’t just stand there,” Gurtz roared, “take her down! That’s an order!” The workman picked up the gun, hesitated, smiled apologetically at Domanade, pulled the trigger. “Uhh!” As she lay there helplessly with every nerve in her body tingling like crazy, Gurtz swaggered toward her, took the gun from the workman, twisted the dial to Lethal and fired one last blast. [[head for the east exit<-try the east exit instead]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Specializing in [[troll leather]] coats, caps, boots, purses, wallets and belts, plus whips, riding crops, masks and “romantic restraints.” [[bureny<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Exotic, surprisingly malleable and nearly indestructible, troll leather was highly prized in the fashion world. Many trolls signed contracts donating their bodies to the tanneries in exchange for up-front payments ranging from four to six thousand dollars. Since most trolls lived brief and brutal lives, working in dangerous occupations – and smoking, on average, five packs of cigarettes a day – the tanneries seldom had to wait too long to collect on their investment. [[bureny<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))A squat-bodied half-gnome with a shock of lime-green hair on his otherwise balding pate, he sported a tattoo of a fly on his nose, and his unshod prosthetic left foot was made of unsanded pine, decorated with a half-dozen “My Pet Pony” stickers. [[Go to Papillion Street<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))A side door led to a storage room next to a tannery, also owned by Tragdush, where troll corpses reposed on steel shelves inside cardboard “body boxes” – cheap coffins used mostly by the city morgue, medical schools and the military. [[bureny<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Bur’eny Tragdush was sitting at an old wooden desk off to the side, puffing on a corncob pipe as he poked prong holes in a half-finished belt with a hand-held punch. “Hiya, Dom,” he said as she approached. “How’s it going?” “I’m in a jam,” she said. “The cops are out to nail me and I need a place to hide out for a few days till I can make other arrangements. Can you help me?” He rubbed his chin. “Well, I guess you could hang out with the stiffs in the [[storage room]] off the tannery. Hardly nobody ever goes in there but me.” “Great. How much will it cost me?” “Um ... how about a hundred a night.” “Fair enough.” [[21<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))“So why are the cops out to nail you?” he said. She filled him in. “That’s too bad,” he said. “You know, I had some guy come in here the other day wearing a fake beard and sunglasses and he placed a special order for a custom whip that had barbs on the lashes. You think somebody new might be moving in on your territory and wants to eliminate the competition?” “I haven’t heard any scuttlebutt about a new dommie on the scene. It’s probably some amateur having fun with his friends. I don’t suppose he gave you a name or address?” “Heh. You kidding? He didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. But his friends vouched for him – Mr. Grant and Mr. Franklin. That was good enough for me.” [[later that evening]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))After the shop closed for the night, Tragdush scrounged up a moth-eaten mattress for Domanade to sleep on and fixed her a grackle sandwich, garnished with parsley, then retired to his room in the back of the shop while she headed for the storage room off the tannery. It was nice and peaceful in there, crashing with the corpses. Unlike the flop house crowd, they didn’t try to hit on her or hit her up, nor snore or bore her with hard-luck stories. And they smelled better. [[22<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))She had just drifted off to sleep when... *BAMMM!* The outer door of the shop burst open and footsteps pounded into the work room. Dom got up, trotted to the storage room door, opened it a crack, peeked out. Cops! Four of them. With O’Gurk leading. Shit! Domanade dragged her mattress over to the shelves, lifted the lid on one of the corpse cartons, tossed the mattress on top of the occupant and climbed in. She pulled the lid over her, but it stuck up a few inches so she tilted it till one side touched the edge of the box. Maybe the cops wouldn’t notice it was slightly askew, or chalk it up to carelessness. [[23<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))“We’re looking for Domanade Tryx,” she heard O’Gurk say. “What makes you think she’s here?” Tragdush said. “We’re sweeping the district.” “You got a warrant?” “A warrant? You want a warrant? Sure. Let me show it to you.” *Slap!* “Ow!” *Slap!* “OK, OK! You wanna waste your time searching, go ahead. I got nothing to hide.” “You better not. Harboring a felon is a serious offense.” Domanade heard the cops enter the storage room; heard lids sliding off boxes and hitting the floor. Getting closer ... closer ... Her lid lifted. A burley cop poked his head in. “Hey! Here she is!” Domanade... [[fought back]] [[submit to arrest2<-submitted to arrest]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Domanade rolled her body sideways with all her might. The box tipped over and she spilled out; the troll and mattress landed on top of her. She shrugged them off and sprang to her feet, lunging at the cop, lashing out with her whip, slashing his face. He staggered back and she drove her shoulder into him, bowling him over, then made a dash for the door, cracking her whip at the other cops. *ZUZZ!* “Ahh!” A beam blast struck her in the back, knocking her down. The beam stayed on, melting the leather of her bodice, frying her flesh... [[hospital<-continue]]

Plum pudding [[2a<-Continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Dom opened the door, strolled into the front room and smiled at [[Sgt. Calla O’Gurk of the Dredfulia Police Department.]] [[3a<-Continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Dom sprinted for the front door, ducking and zigzagging. She almost made it. *ZUZZ!* “Ahh!” O’Gurk could have cranked down her nozzle to the Stun setting, but she’d kept it on Burn, as if Domanade was just some two-bit lowlife perp. What a bitch! The cop walked up to her, bent down, yanked Dom’s arms behind her enflamed back and snapped on the cuffs, ignoring her cries of agony. [[hospital<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))On her third night in jail, Domanade got into a fight with her cellmate, who envied the sexy dominatrix and spit spitefully into her pureed potatoes during dinner. Domanade would have triumphed in the tussle, but her opponent pulled a shiv from her shoe and shoved it into Domanade’s Adam’s apple. By the time the guards got around to summoning help, the dominatrix was dead. [[ran out the back way<-try running out the back way]]

Wrong choice. As punishment you must read a portion of a poem about a witch in a library, which has nothing to do with the story. [[excerpt1<-take your punishment]]

Where the hell do you think you’re going? [[POEM2<-Keep reading, scumball!]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Artificial humanoids created by the infamous alchemist, Prof. Petrof Lyrid of Drauthenboch, who spliced gnome genomes into mandrake roots grown in radioactive clay. He hoped his creations would make good servants, but they proved unreliable so he sold them to a traveling freak show. After several years the Chubbutts earned enough money to quit the show and open their own club. [[strut their stuff<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))strut their stuff on a scuffed-up green-and-white linoleum floor beneath two small spotlights mounted in brackets on a water-stained cellulose ceiling. [[sarpy2<-continue]]

Better known as the “Robin Hood hat.” [[with drooping<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))After the performance ended and the boys trotted out of the room to thunderous applause, the crowd tossed coins and credit chips into orange buckets hanging from stands stolen from the Salvation Army and then bellied up to the bar to toss down some sour mash and cheap wine. Domanade wended her way through the crowd and pushed past a red-and-green beaded curtain, entering the back room. [[4<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“That seems reas ...” “A night.” “What?” “Five hundred a night. That’s thirty-five hundred total, if you stay a whole week.” “You’re kidding, right? I could stay at a four-star hotel for less!” “Honey, you’ll never make it to a four-star hotel. The cops’ll nab you before you go ten blocks.” “How about two hundred a night?” “How about you go fend for yourself.” “How about you go fuck yourself, you greedy little shit! Some friend you are!” “Friends have to eat too, you know.” “I hope you choke on your worms, you fucking asshole!” She stormed out of the Chubbutt Club, but it was the cops who dished out the thunder and lightning, pouncing on her just as she reached the corner. [[submit to arrest3<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:white)+(bg:#c92a2a))“I found those nasty magazines you hid under your mattress. You were looking at those dirty pictures and playing with yourself and thinking filthy thoughts!” “Oh no, mommy. I never look at the pictures. I just read the articles. Honest!” “Liar! I heard the sickening sounds coming from the bathroom. No one makes noises like that when they’re reading!” “I’m sorry, mommy. I won’t do it again. I promise!” “You’re damn right you won’t do it again. Because I’m going to whip the sin right out of you if it takes all goddamn night!” “No, mommy, no!” *whooshnapp! whooshnapp! whooshnapp!* Pengzoit let out a delighted little gasp and kicked his legs rapidly as the lashes bit into his lumpy rump. “Stop, mommy! Please stop! I’ll be a good boy! I promise!” *whooshnapp! *whooshnapp! *whooshnapp!* “Stop, mommy! Stop! No, mommy, no!” (text-colour:yellow)+(bg:red)[[6<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Sallow complexion, sunken cheeks, pointy chin, close-cropped hair dyed burnt-pink, intensely furtive dark eyes – like a trapped minx. Her lithe figure was draped in a brown-and-gray-striped sleeveless smock, her feet shod in canary yellow pumps. [[9<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Contrary to popular belief, Venus Dust does not come from Venus. It’s derived from hybrids of star-weed plants and henge-thistles and was first concocted by the noted Edinburg alchemist Lord Alfred Sunden-Reyes, who hallucinated Venusian nymphs while under the influence of the drug during his early experiments. [[9<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))“Nothing. I just wanted to get rid of Quadald and the whip trick seemed the best way to do it.” “Why did you want to get rid of him?” “We were business rivals. He outbid me on a big government contract and I figured he must’ve had inside information, so I hired a private dick to find out how he got it. Turns out he was pumping my wife – in more ways than one. I turned the tables and told the dick to plant a bug in his office so I could do a little industrial espionage of my own. I wasn’t after personal dirt, but when I learned he was one of your regulars I saw my chance to get rid of him – and get even. I found out what kind of whip you used and I had it copied, and after he called you to set up his next visit I got Mortsala to swop out the whips and ... you know the rest. I thought my little scheme was perfect: I’d get rid of the bastard and expose his sicko side at the same time so my wife would know what kind of sleaze-ball she’d been banging.” “And I’d take the blame.” He shrugged. “Nothing personal. I just needed a fall guy.” He scowled. “My big mistake was trusting that bitch Mortsala to keep her fucking mouth shut. I should’ve knocked her off, too. She *is* the one who ratted me out, isn’t she?” Ignoring the question, Domanade got off of him, pocketed her whip, grabbed the beam pistol from the floor, ripped a piece of paper off a notepad on the desk and snatched a pen out of a ceramic mug. “Get up.” She shoved the pen and paper into his hand. “Write down what you told me and sign it.” He muttered a few choice insults, but did as he was told. She took out a pair of handcuffs – props she normally used to entertain the clients, but they were fully functional. “Turn around.” She snapped the cuffs on his wrists and nudged him toward the door. [[head for the north exit]] [[head for the east exit]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Although the case was marked “Closed,” Domanade wasn’t off the hook. O’Gurk was still pissed the dominatrix had escaped her clutches, and the warrants for “flight to avoid arrest” and “obstruction of justice” remained active, so Domanade cut her hair and bleached it blonde and moved to Drauthenboch, where she resumed her occupation in new digs, wearing a scarlet patch over one eye and calling herself Lashleigh Whipperton. She developed quite a following and eventually saved up enough money to buy a vacation home in Askandyeshal, a remote island paradise. END OF THIS VERSION [[Go to Papillion Street<-try the Papillion Street version]] [[Go to Gretna Street<-try the Gretna Street version]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Specializing in [[troll leather]] coats, caps, boots, purses, wallets and belts, plus whips, riding crops, masks and “romantic restraints.” [[bureny<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))On her third night in jail, Domanade got into a fight with her cellmate, who envied the sexy dominatrix and spit spitefully into her pureed potatoes during dinner. Domanade would have triumphed in the tussle, but her opponent pulled a shiv from her shoe and shoved it into Domanade’s Adam’s apple. By the time the guards got around to summoning help, the dominatrix was dead. [[ran out the back way<-try again]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))On her third night in jail, Domanade got into a fight with her cellmate, who envied the sexy dominatrix and spit spitefully into her pureed potatoes during dinner. Domanade would have triumphed in the tussle, but her opponent pulled a shiv from her shoe and shoved it into Domanade’s Adam’s apple. By the time the guards got around to summoning help, the dominatrix was dead. [[“Three butt blasts a day”<-try the butt blasts]]

Plum pudding [[2a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Dom opened the door, strolled into the front room and smiled at [[Sgt. Calla O’Gurk of the Dredfulia Police Department.]] [[3a<-continue]]

Wrong choice. As punishment you must read a portion of a poem about a witch in a library, which has nothing to do with the story. [[excerpt1<-take your punishment]]

Where the hell do you think you’re going? [[POEM2<-Keep reading, scumball!]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Specializing in [[troll leather]] coats, caps, boots, purses, wallets and belts, plus whips, riding crops, masks and “romantic restraints.” [[bureny<-continue]]

Plum pudding [[2a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Dom opened the door, strolled into the front room and smiled at [[Sgt. Calla O’Gurk of the Dredfulia Police Department.]] [[3a<-continue]]

Wrong choice. As punishment you must read a portion of a poem about a witch in a library, which has nothing to do with the story. [[excerpt1<-take your punishment]]

Where the hell do you think you’re going? [[POEM2<-Keep reading, scumball!]]

Better known as the “Robin Hood hat.” [[with drooping<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Specializing in [[troll leather]] coats, caps, boots, purses, wallets and belts, plus whips, riding crops, masks and “romantic restraints.” [[bureny<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))On her third night in jail, Domanade got into a fight with her cellmate, who envied the sexy dominatrix and spit spitefully into her pureed potatoes during dinner. Domanade would have triumphed in the tussle, but her opponent pulled a shiv from her shoe and shoved it into Domanade’s Adam’s apple. By the time the guards got around to summoning help, the dominatrix was dead. [[“Three butt blasts a day”<-try the butt blasts]]

Plum pudding [[2a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Dom opened the door, strolled into the front room and smiled at [[Sgt. Calla O’Gurk of the Dredfulia Police Department.]] [[3a<-continue]]

Wrong choice. As punishment you must read a portion of a poem about a witch in a library, which has nothing to do with the story. [[excerpt1<-take your punishment]]

Where the hell do you think you’re going? [[POEM2<-Keep reading, scumball!]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Specializing in [[troll leather]] coats, caps, boots, purses, wallets and belts, plus whips, riding crops, masks and “romantic restraints.” [[bureny<-continue]]

Plum pudding [[2a<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))Dom opened the door, strolled into the front room and smiled at [[Sgt. Calla O’Gurk of the Dredfulia Police Department.]] [[3a<-continue]]

Wrong choice. As punishment you must read a portion of a poem about a witch in a library, which has nothing to do with the story. [[excerpt1<-take your punishment]]

Where the hell do you think you’re going? [[POEM2<-Keep reading, scumball!]]

Better known as the “Robin Hood hat.” [[with drooping<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:green))Specializing in [[troll leather]] coats, caps, boots, purses, wallets and belts, plus whips, riding crops, masks and “romantic restraints.” [[bureny<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:black)+(bg:#eebefa))On her third night in jail, Domanade got into a fight with her cellmate, who envied the sexy dominatrix and spit spitefully into her pureed potatoes during dinner. Domanade would have triumphed in the tussle, but her opponent pulled a shiv from her shoe and shoved it into Domanade’s Adam’s apple. By the time the guards got around to summoning help, the dominatrix was dead. [[“Three butt blasts a day”<-try the butt blasts]]