The Sex Slave's Final Punishment (BDSM Erotica) by Aphrodite Hunt

here. I want to find out why the name ‘Ethan Greene’
evokes such a reaction. The customer, a sixty-something gentleman,
eyes me up and down as well before going out into the awful
weather.
    “So what’s up with Ethan Greene?” I say
casually.
    Rick’s plain features grow dark. “I don’t
really know,” he mutters. “It’s only what folks have said. I
haven’t personally met him, seeing as he hardly ever comes out of
that mansion of his.”
    “He lives in a mansion?’
    “Yeah, up the hill. The hill is called Pine’s
Lookout and it’s private property.” He leans over and his voice
drops an octave. “It’s a real creepy place. No one wants to go
there. The house itself used to be haunted, my Mom says. When Ethan
Greene bought it, he moved right in and locked himself up in there.
Hardly anyone sees him. When he comes down the hill in that big
black car of his with the blackout windows, he doesn’t stop here on
Main Street. He goes right out of town. Where, nobody knows.”
    “Maybe he’s gone to the nearest Kmart,” I say
lightly. “You don’t have a Kmart here, do you?”
    “Yeah,” he admits. “His butler or housekeeper
or whatever you want to call him comes here a couple of times a
month to pick things up. But he’s not real friendly like either.
His name is Jeffrey. Doesn’t talk much.”
    “Maybe Ethan Greene is secretly Batman,” I
jest.
    Rick doesn’t laugh. “Maybe. But he’s no caped
crusader for justice, if you ask me. A couple of years ago, a trio
of kids from Aberdeen went up to Pine’s Lookout on a dare.”
    A tiny shudder creeps up my spine. OK, I know
it’s the atmosphere, but still –
    “They chugged up in their car, even though we
warned them it was private property. Nobody really knows what
happened that night, but those kids never came back here to Main
Street. They fled back to Aberdeen faster than you could say
‘Halloween’. What happened up there, none of us here ever found
out. Those kids weren’t telling.”
    I make a mental note to check this story out
in Aberdeen.
    “But surely someone must have said
something,” I say.
    He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Then there
was that funny incident four years back with the police.”
    My ears prick up like antennae. “Police?”
    “Yeah.” Rick is clearly enjoying himself,
claiming my attention like this. “They came around to Main Street,
asking about some hooker from St. Louis who had gone missing. Turns
out her pimp says she went with someone who fit the description of
Ethan Greene.”
    “What happened?”
    “The police went up the hill looking for him,
but they came back empty-handed.” Rick sounds disappointed. “Hooker
was never found.”
    “Maybe she absconded with someone else.”
    “Or maybe . . . just maybe . . . ” His eyes
gleam.
    I laugh uneasily, spooked despite myself.
“Maybe you’re reading too much into all this.”
    I don’t know, but for some reason, I have
this awful image of the hooker’s dead body being buried in an
unmarked grave behind the Pine’s Lookout mansion that I have yet to
lay my eyes upon.
    Come on, I tell myself. This is David Kinney
we are talking about, or whatever name I think he goes by now.
Ethan Greene might not even be David Kinney for all the clues in my
sleuthing. I might have been kidding myself this whole trip. Ethan
Greene might turn out to be some psychopath who is permanently
holed up in his mansion, kind of like the mad scientist in Edward
Scissorhands.
    “Folks don’t talk without a reason,” Rick
warns me. “Say, you hungry? I’ve got a break coming up in fifteen
minutes. If you want to grab a quick bite – ”
    “No thanks.”
    He seems disappointed.
    “I’ve already eaten,” I add.
    “So . . . you wanna wait till eleven when I
get off . . . or do you want to go find my Mom? I can call her
right now.”
    I make a swift decision. “Sure. Call her.
I’ve been driving all day and I need to shower and stuff.” I’m sure
I smell