Chapter 3: Lucius Barrington

“Thank you. We’ll be out on the floor shortly,” Jefferson said.

My boss touched the screen once more and the grotesque picture of what looked like a human snake appeared. Lucius Barrington looked more like a carnival freak show performer than the spawn of Satan. In the photograph his scalp was shaved, his mouth was open and his tongue slithered out between reddish lips. His tongue apparently had been surgically altered to resemble a snake, with a little slit cut into the middle of the tip, like prongs of a slimy fork. What’s more, two small red and black pointed horns of some kind were mounted into the skin on top of his forehead. All he was missing was a tail. Other than those anomalies, he looked like a college dropout who ate too much fast food, with a pudgy layer in the middle. I’m sure he won the Halloween contest every year, but if I had my choice I would much rather take my chances with a Terrorist Prince Charming than this Creature from the Black Lagoon.

“Lucius Barrington is the misfit son of a rich Chicago family who used his trust fund to open some kind of devil-worshipping church called The Church of the Anti-Christ, in order to assist him in getting laid more often, I would presume,” my Handler said.

Another religious wacko. We looked at the disturbing image.

“I’d like to turn the briefing over to Mr. Jefferson and let him explain the situation in detail,” my Handler said.

“Thank you, Sir. First, I’d like to convey my deep appreciation to both the CIA and FBI for assisting me with this… particular problem,” Jefferson said.

“It’s our pleasure to help you Mr. Jefferson,” I said.

“As mentioned, Mr. Barrington is the spoiled only child of Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Barrington, who have both recently passed away, leaving the entire Barrington Estate, with the family’s extensive stock portfolio and commercial real estate holdings in their son’s hands. So far, he’s visited my club twice. Tonight is his third and hopefully last visit. He came two weeks ago escorting two rather plain looking women, all dressed in black lingerie. He claims that they are witches and he is their Warlock, a powerful High Priest of the Worldwide Church of Satan. I’ve met some odd people since I opened for business four years ago and I try not to judge people by their appearance, but this gentleman certainly ranks right up at the top of the list of characters. When I spoke to him at the initiation I hold for all new visitors to Obsessions, Barrington was polite, soft-spoken and readily agreed to the rules of the club. He seemed rather innocuous to me. I just thought he liked dressing up and someone had forgotten to tell him Halloween was over last month. I assume he came to Obsessions like many of our patrons, to indulge in some forbidden sexual fantasy. Although his physical appearance was a bit extreme, I didn’t see any reason at first why he couldn’t patronize my club. I escorted Barrington and the two women around, giving them the standard tour. After the initiation, my submissive caught his eye and he walked right over to the table where she was sitting. It was odd to me that he went directly to Grace; as if he knew she would be there. Grace is quite popular here due to her kindness to members of our club and her physical beauty. She’s very friendly and a great number of people enjoy talking to her on a nightly basis. Barrington patiently waited while Grace talked to the various regulars. Once it was his turn he sat down at her table and carried on a conversation with her. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.”

Jefferson paused in his story and took a sip off his drink.

“What were they talking about?” Zardooz asked.

“At the first meeting between them I wasn’t close enough to hear all of it, but later that night back at home, Grace told me Barrington claimed to have known her from childhood. He told her that he had once gone to the same Sunday school class and they had played together, though Grace has no memory of this whatsoever. He apparently spouted off some religious mumbo-jumbo about how he was the ancestor of one of God’s most beloved angels, but the ancestor rebelled and fell from the Heavens, banished by God. After his strange story Barrington got down on one knee and made a strange proposal to her. He asked her to become the wife of the Prince of Darkness and bear him a child, the anti-Christ, foretold in the Bible who would rule the earth for 1000 years. He spoke with such sincerity, proposing some kind of twisted marriage with her. Grace was greatly disturbed by him and back in my office she confessed to me that the odd man made her extremely nervous. I was a trifle annoyed with the mind games he was playing, but before I had a chance to speak to Barrington about the matter, he swept out of the club with his witches. Grace slept fitfully that night and the next day appeared nervous and skittish. After a few days, I could see that she felt much better and was back to her usual cheerful self again. I thought that would be the end of it, but a few days later Barrington and the two women came back to the club, unexpectedly. As soon as she saw him, Grace withdrew to the safety of my office and locked the door. Barrington didn’t see Grace in the club on this occasion. I told her that I would keep an eye on him while she monitored Barrington’s activities on my computer. That’s when she noticed the scars.”

“What scars?” I asked.

“On Barrington’s first visit, Grace remembered seeing the red markings of a lash on the back of the older of the two witches. On the second visit, Grace noticed the younger woman had fresh strokes of the scourge on her back as well.”

“So Barrington’s been physically assaulting these two women, apparently. You give a very detailed presentation of this case, Mr. Jefferson,” my boss said.

“Indeed,” Zardooz added.

“Mr. Jefferson,” my boss continued, “I hope you don’t mind that I had you thoroughly vetted after we spoke yesterday over the phone. After the severity of what you brought to our attention, I needed to make sure you were a reliable source. Mr. Jefferson is from a family of cops in Chicago. He graduated first in his class at the police academy and holds a Master’s Degree in Criminal Justice for University of Illinois. Soon after starting your job as a police officer, you sued the Chicago Police Force and won a large undisclosed settlement. Now you run this gentlemen’s club. The details of the court case were sealed. I’m curious, Sir. What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“On my first day on the beat I witnessed my female training officer physically abuse a homeless man in front of a liquor store,” Jefferson said quietly, his eyes cast downward.

“Ahh. And you reported her I assume, as was your duty. Let me guess. The department covered their asses and you were fired,” my Handler asked.

“That’s about right Sir,” Jefferson said.

“That’s a damn shame, Jefferson. Sounds like you got screwed,” Zardooz said.

I could tell by Jefferson’s demeanor he was still bitter about what happened to him. He frowned at the memory and continued the briefing.

“So after inquiring about the whereabouts of Grace to my security guard, Barrington and the two women abruptly left the club. Grace told me how much it upset her to see the young woman’s flesh marked so violently by the whip, so I agreed to refuse Barrington’s further entry to my club. But when you called back this morning about the terrorism concern, I thought we could, as a team, put a stop to his abuse of women. After you pledged me your support, I called Barrington today and told him how impressed I was with him. I offered him a free room rental for this evening if he wished to find new acolytes for his cult. On his website I saw that he conducts some kind of meeting at his church every Friday at midnight. Agents, I realize your real mission starts tomorrow, but you’d be doing a great service to Grace and me if you could help us resolve the issue of Barrington, once and for all.”

Both Zardooz and I readily agreed to help. My Handler took over the meeting.

“So, here’s the basic play. Agent Milani, Grace will introduce you Barrington. You’ll turn on your charm and express your desire to join his coven this evening at his midnight mass. If he attempts to scourge your body with the lash during the ceremony, we’ll put this masochist away where he belongs,” my Handler said.

I raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve never been too fond of being whipped,” I said.

“Don’t worry Agent Milani,” my Handler said, anticipating my concerns. “If we in fact make it to his church, Agent Zardooz will pose as your Dominant for the evening and stand at your side the whole time. As soon as he raises the whip the CIA and FBI task forces will immediately intervene before a single lash touches your skin. The Chicago Police Department has been notified of our sting and we’ll hand Barrington over to them. He’ll be arrested and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. We should be able to get him for kidnapping, assault, attempted rape perhaps…”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t harm a hair on your head Agent Milani,” Zardooz said.

“OK, but can we make the charges stick?” I asked.

“I think so. Mr. Jefferson’s security cameras captured footage of the markings on these two women and the images were forwarded to the DA’s office. We obtained a court order from a Judge so my team can wire his Church of the Anti-Christ with cameras this evening, which should allow us to gather sufficient evidence against him. Our local agents are setting it up as we speak. We should be able to wrap this whole case up in a couple of hours and then we’ll all go back to the hotel. We’ll get a good night’s rest and reconvene here tomorrow. Any questions?” my Handler asked.

It seemed like a rather simple plan to take down the man who claimed to be the most powerful force of evil in the universe. I hoped it would be as easy an operation to pull off as my Handler implied. I was feeling confident after the slam dunk convictions against the drug dealers and more recently, the sex traffickers. Perhaps the sting against Lucius Barrington might prove to be a mildly amusing distraction from my nervousness about the start of the real mission tomorrow. For some reason I felt out of sorts. The image of Prince Khaled Al Khatani would not leave my mind.

“Would you mind putting a little lingerie on, Agent Milani? To trap a fly you need a little dollop of honey, as they say,” my Handler said. “Mr. Jefferson is our resident expert in these matters and has personally picked out an outfit for you.”

“OK sure,” I said. “Let’s take a look. I love lingerie.”

Mr. Jefferson withdrew from a little black bag a lingerie set and a pair of high heels. It was probably the sexiest costume I had ever seen. It was made of black silk and completely sheer. The top was a loosely fitting corset that buttoned up the front, with black thigh high stockings, garter belt and an open crotched pencil thin G- String panty that left nothing to the imagination.

“You have good taste, Mr. Jefferson,” I said.

“Thank you,” he replied.

“Please call me Brittany,” I said.

I was so used to undressing in public that I started unbuttoning my white silk blouse in front of the three men.

“Agent Milani! Modesty, please,” my Handler said. “Could you please not undress right in front of us?”

“Oh right. Sorry boss,” I said, slightly embarrassed.

“Please feel free to use my private bathroom, Brittany. It’s behind the door in the far corner of my office,” Jefferson said, gesturing to the back of the room.

Behind the closed door I quickly changed into my stripper outfit. Even though it was just another job, it aroused me to put on such sexy lingerie. I brushed out my black hair and applied my makeup thicker, with a confident stroke of blue eye shadow and deep red lipstick. I walked back out to the gentlemen a moment later, teetering in a feminine manner on my high heels. Both my Supervisor and the owner of Obsessions looked up and down my exposed body with an approving professional eye. It was Zardooz who seemed unable to look up at me, though I did catch him steal a furtive glance at my loosely bouncing breasts as I walked toward him.

“You look great Agent. That should do the trick,” my Handler said.

“How do I look Agent Zardooz?” I asked.

Why was I such a tease?

Zardooz looked up briefly into my eyes and then back down at his black shoes.

“You look… nice… Agent Milani. Very pretty…” Zardooz said.

I found it humorous and a little charming that my new partner couldn’t hold eye contact with me for more than a few seconds at a time, while I was all dolled up in see-through black silk.

“Your supervisor mentioned, due to the previous undercover work, you have extensive experience in matters of… a sexual nature. I took the liberty to purchase a high quality lubricating gel that makes the skin shimmer and makes it more comfortable for you to be touched in… various intimate areas. Be sure to liberally coat the Agent’s body with it,” Jefferson said, handing the gel to Zardooz.

Zardooz took the gel and awkwardly slipped it into his jacket pocket. As Jefferson gave Zardooz a key, I noticed beads of sweat appearing on my partner’s forehead. Jefferson immediately noticed it.

“You appear to sweating, Agent Zardooz. Would you like to borrow my handkerchief?” Jefferson asked.

“Yes, thank you. It’s quite warm in here,” Zardooz said, wiping his brow.

“I’ve turned up the thermostat, in case Agent Milani gets cold,” Jefferson said.

“Thank you Mr. Jefferson. You’re quite thoughtful,” I said.

“What’s this key for?” Zardooz asked.

“When we go out to the floor Agent Zardooz, walk directly to the raised platform to the right of the bar and use that key to lock both of your partner’s wrists over her head to the handcuffs attached to the end of the two chains dangling from the ceiling. Spread her thighs apart and lock both of her ankles to the two O-Rings mounted into the floor. Of course, sting or no sting, there will be no oral, anal or vaginal penetration in my club. Agent Zardooz, you are to refer to your partner as “submissive” or “slave” and Ms. Milani, you must keep your eyes lowered when approached by the patrons here, addressing the men as “My Lord” or “Sire”. If Barrington approaches you Agent Milani, tell him you’ve always been drawn to the occult. Agent Zardooz, if you get an opportunity, mention to Barrington that in the Master/Slave contract you signed, you allow your submissive to be shared with other men, as long as you can stand by and watch. Hopefully Barrington will take the bait and bring you both to his church tonight where we can get evidence we need to put his abuse of women to an end,” Jefferson said.

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go get this guy off the street and then rest up for tomorrow,” my Handler said.

Zardooz escorted me out of the office to the raised platform near the bar. After handcuffing my arms and legs securely, we looked over to see Barrington sitting at a table and staring at Grace. The horned beast seemed to have eyes only for her. We waited. Nothing could distract him from the young woman. I thought we needed to do something to get Barrington’s attention.

“Kiss me Zardooz…” I whispered.

My partner leaned forward and kissed me very sweetly on the lips.

“This isn’t our high school prom. You’re going to have to be a little more convincing than that, Master Z…”

Zardooz held me closer and kissed me more passionately, in the way I remembered from our one night together long ago.

“Unbutton my corset, all the way. Kiss my breasts…”

“Brittany…”

Once again I felt embarrassed he knew my first name and I had completely forgotten his. With trembling fingers he undid the front of my lingerie and my breasts spilled out. He cupped my flesh in his palms and took my nipples into his mouth, sucking on them quite firmly. A crowd of men came to our area to watch. Zardooz really committed to the job, fondling and kissing my breasts until my nipples grew quiet large between his lips.

“Is it necessary to kiss me so passionately, Master Z? A woman’s nipples can be very sensitive, you know,” said.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Agent,” he whispered, breathing deeply in my ear.

He pressed his body against me and I felt his erection growing against my thigh. He kissed up my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“So, is it true what you said, My Lord?”

“What I said?”

“That sex with me was not that great?”

Then Zardooz said something very lovely to me.

“Meeting you was the most wonderful night of my life Brittany…”

I was speechless. He noticed my shock.

“I know you don’t even remember it…” he said.

“That’s not true. I was actually thinking of you on the cab ride from the airport.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I remember how passionate you were in bed that night.”

“You don’t even remember my name,” he said.

“That’s not true, Zardooz.”

“I meant my first name, Brittany.”

“I remember your name.”

“OK, what is it?” Zardooz said, biting delicately on my earlobe and holding my breasts in his hands.

“It’s… Saeed…”

He shook his head.

“You’re not even close.”

“Rahim…”?

“You’re getting closer…”

“Oh, I remember now. It’s Rasheed, right?”

“Not bad. You remembered after three tries.”

“Rasheed Zardooz…”

“Brittany Milani…”

“You were my sponsor. You should never have taken advantage of me.”

“Who took advantage of whom, Brittany?”

I felt Rasheed rub the slick slippery gel between the open slit of my panties, directly on the lips of my sex and between the cheeks of my ass.

“Mmmm, that feels nice…”

Rasheed stroked me gently with his oiled fingers.

“Rasheed… I like this place, Obsessions. If we ever make it back from this mission, let’s meet each other here. Not for business, but for pleasure…”

“I would like that a lot, Brittany…”

I parted my lips and we kissed, with the same hunger as before. My parents would be so happy to see me with a man, especially an Iranian! After our long kiss, I noticed several men standing close by, waiting for their turn with me, as well as others watching our show from the two rows of theater seats below the platform. I must be a popular girl.

“To get his attention, maybe it would be a good idea to give someone else a turn,” I said, between deep breaths.

“No…” Rasheed said, between gritted teeth, cupping my breasts in his palms. “Let them wait…”

After I caught my breath from Rasheed’s deep kisses, I looked up to see Lucius Barrington and Grace approaching. Barrington carried himself with a regal bearing, leaning upon a fancy ivory tipped cane. I fully expected to hear the tapping of hooves under his cloven feet. He looked quite ludicrous with his bald head, his bizarre forked tongue and pointy horns. He went to a lot of trouble and expense to look diabolical, but he ended up just looking ridiculous. His two female devotees followed along behind with a vapid look in their eyes. Their pupils were slightly dilated, so I assumed Barrington was supplying them with drugs. Barrington stepped up onto the platform to join us.

“So this must be the tasty morsel my angel mentioned,” Barrington said, kissing my cheek twice in the French manner, as if we had met unexpectedly during the intermission of an opera.

“Yes, this is one of my best friends from church, Lucius. Debby, this is Lucius Barrington. He is the founder of the church told you about,” Grace said.

“The Church of the Anti-Christ, right? Love the name. I’m please to meet you, My Lord,” I said in my most sultry voice.

The guy just nodded, while focusing his complete attention upon Grace. She seemed extremely nervous around him. Barrington looked at her through the slits of his eyes, like a coiled snake about to sink its fangs into a mouse. I noticed Mr. Jefferson watching the exchange with a sharp eye. I tried to deflect the strange fixation Barrington seemed to have for Grace.

“Grace has told me so much about you, Mr. Barrington,” I said.

“Has she now?” Barrington said, his forked tongue resting upon his lower lip. “What, precisely, did she say, Deborah? I want to know all the juicy details…”

“Just that you opened this cool church, way better than the one my parents always force me to go to. I’d love to see it,” I said.

“Well Deborah, I’d love to take you, but unfortunately Ms. Madsen tells me she doesn’t wish to visit the Church of the Anti-Christ this evening. And her friends aren’t permitted to enter the sanctuary without the presence of Our Fallen Angel,” he said in an insidious tone, looking directly into Grace’s eyes.

I could tell Grace was making a great effort to stay civil.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Grace said in stressed voice.

“You mean, Fallen Angel?”

“I wish you’d stop saying that.”

“You mean you still don’t believe in it yet?”

“Believe in what?”

“Your destiny. Who you are and what you are meant to be.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Barrington took her hand.