Chirality

By Luc Davenport

Diana: a tragic past and an unsettling secret admirer, a double life shrouded in darkness, a police officer lover who knows all about her and is the sole believer in her innocence. A life lived on the razor's edge until she encounters Alex, a captivating and enigmatic man whom she deems responsible for the chilling murders that are plaguing the city.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Nov 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667465852

Book preview

Chirality

Preface

Chirality (from the Greek χείρ cheir, meaning hand) is, in a general sense, the property of having a non-superimposable mirror image, as is the case with a hand. An object possessing this property is termed chiral.

Why Chirality? Chiral is the dual identity of Diana, just as this term can be used to describe her relationships with all the other characters in the book and the intricate connections that bind them.

Chiral is our world, where we often believe we may find someone similar to ourselves, yet we do not always manage to overlay one upon the other until achieving perfect harmony..

Prologue

- Two police officers came by earlier.

- And what did they want? Please don't tell me it was about those annoying bigots next door.

- No, they didn't explain much, but I think it has something to do with that suitcase murder case.

- What does that have to do with us?

- Marika was one of our clients. They asked about her too. Do you remember her? She was the brunette you occasionally played with too.

- You didn't tell them, I hope. We don't need this kind of publicity; if people start thinking they're not safe here, we'll lose a lot of customers.

- No... And they can't find out. I don't know why, but she's not in the records. There must have been some issue with the software. But she had our address written in her agenda, which is why the police came here.

- Well, there are plenty of plausible reasons why she might have had it.

- True. But...

- What's wrong?

- I don't know, but it's starting to get unsettling. Many of the girls who were killed were our clients. What if one of the registered members is the killer?

- Oh, come on. You know how things work in this environment. Most of the time, they respond to online ads and take no precautions. It was just a coincidence that they were all our clients. Relax, sweetheart.

- Okay.

- Good. Now, come over here.

1

The Hysteria was crowded, as it was every Wednesday evening. Diana, in recent times, didn't particularly enjoy frequenting the venue, being amidst hordes of sticky fetishists and self-proclaimed Masters or Mistresses who could barely handle a whip. The loud music bothered her, and the psychedelic atmosphere was distracting. She preferred the warmth of her pied-à-terre for her sessions with her submissives.

Yet, there was a time when this venue had been her only point of reference. She had enthusiastically frequented it until two years ago, and then things began to change, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. Her visits to the Hysteria became increasingly rare.

Even BDSM was beginning to lose its appeal for her. She continued to practice it because she knew she couldn't give it up entirely, but she was often bored.

She had hoped that this outing would help shake off the boredom, but it hadn't. Wrapped in her latex outfit, reclined on the couch, she looked around with little interest, while her loyal slave/puppy remained crouched at her feet, licking her boots. He'll wear out my boots with all that licking. And they cost me a fortune, she thought, giving him a gentle nudge to push him away. The slave whimpered but immediately retracted; he was perfectly trained by now. Perhaps that was what bored her.

Behind the mask she wore to adhere to the club's rules, her gaze landed on the occupant of the nearby couch. The Master in question was a man with an athletic physique, a rarity in that world. Typically, Masters were nothing like those beautiful ones seen in films; they were often flabby individuals who could only play their roles because there were plenty of submissives looking for someone who could handle ropes without risking their lives. He caught her attention because he exuded extreme calm and elegance. He wore a simple leather suit, looked around with the same bored demeanor she had, and had a small, tattooed, young submissive by his side, completely naked except for a collar with a bell and a latex mask resembling a cat's face.

The Master turned towards Diana, and their eyes met. Neither of them looked away. It wasn't just magnetism or interest; it was almost a challenge. Diana's puppy, following his Mistress's gaze, noticed the other Master's cat-sub and, behaving like a real dog, began to growl softly. The cat-sub on the other side arched her back and began to hiss.

Kennel, Puppy. Good boy.

Diana called back her submissive, who stopped growling but continued to fixate on the cat. The other Master must have given a similar command to his submissive because she simply turned her back to Diana's submissive and curled up quietly next to her Master's feet.

The two Doms smiled at each other.

Neither of them would be the first to approach the other, Diana knew. But she was curious about the man who had caught her attention.

Puppy, go call Giada.

The little dog hurriedly crawled over to the club manager's table. Soon, he returned, followed by Giada. Giada smiled playfully.

I think I'll get a dog of my own someday.

You should. If you want, I'll give you mine. Diana winked and then cast a glance at her submissive, who had crouched at her feet with a dejected expression. She had said it on purpose to hurt him, but in reality, she had no intention of giving him away.

No, thanks. I'd like to train one for myself. What can I do for you?

That Master... Is he new?

No, he's been our member for a couple of years. But he doesn't come often.

All right, go to him and invite him to my table.

Giada didn't need to be told twice and obeyed the command. Despite being a Mistress now, she couldn't forget the time she had spent as Diana's submissive. She was a woman who left a mark, not just for her beauty.

A few minutes later, during which the Master had replied to her invitation, keeping his eyes on Diana, Giada returned with a counterproposal: the man wanted Diana to join him in the private room.

2

What struck him most about that Mistress was the subtle yet undeniable femininity she exuded. Nothing about her conformed to the norms imposed by that world. The latex outfit she wore was unique, far from ordinary or vulgar. Behind the mask she wore, there was a deep emerald gaze set in a face with delicate, porcelain-like features, framed by long natural red hair.

When he received her invitation, he had not accepted it for two reasons. The first, obvious, was that he didn't want to bow his head. The second was a sort of test. If she had accepted, he would have been disappointed.

When he saw her talking to Giada, conveying her counterproposal, he continued the game of eye contact and felt a surge of satisfaction seeing her recall her submissive, leash him, and head toward the exit. She had clearly declined, just as he had hoped. It showed her as a true Mistress and not merely a woman seeking thrills. That gesture had determined his will to conquer her; it would be an interesting and fulfilling game.

Giada escorted Diana, then returned to him, sitting beside him with a sigh.

I told you she wouldn't give in.

I hoped.

Tell me the truth. Do you already have something in mind? I know you.

Perhaps.

Alex smiled and gently caressed the back of his cat-sub, who had meanwhile climbed onto the couch. He made a couple of absentminded strokes while gazing towards the club's exit, then refocused on Giada.

What's her name?

Diana.

Go on, what do you want to tell me? I can read it in your curly little head.

Giada smiled, crossed her legs, and shifted her gaze to the room.

Be careful, Alex. That woman is capable of completely overturning people's lives.

The man chuckled. Since when did I become the kind of person who inspires your protective instincts?

Since you took an interest in Diana. Believe me, she's truly extraordinary.

I believe it, and that's why I like her. Maybe, who knows, I want her to turn my life upside down, or at least, I want to see if she's really capable of it.

Giada didn't seem convinced, but she didn't press him further. After answering a couple of Alex's questions, she bid farewell to him to attend to other customers.

Alex sipped his drink until it was finished while carefully planning how to approach Diana and get to know her better. His imagination wandered for a long time, lingering on the Mistress's features and trying to envision her in a context beyond the BDSM world.

A woman like her, if she turned out to be as strong and dominant as she seemed, would be the ideal partner. Someone to share his impulses with, without unnecessary lies and subterfuge. Someone he would respect because she could hold her own.

Often, other Masters entered into relationships with their submissives. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. He was certain that, in his case, it would never work because he couldn't see his submissives as anything more than a simple pastime, a toy, which was precisely what they wanted. When one of them demanded a different kind of relationship, he got rid of them without a second thought.

Alex, now sure of his next move, decided to return home. He told his cat-sub to get dressed and that he wanted to be alone that evening. Then he gathered his things, paid the bill, and left the venue. He was eager to set his pieces in motion to start the game and nurtured the hope within that Diana would prove to be a worthy player.

––––––––

3

Do you still visit Hysteria? Daniele inquired.

Occasionally, but it has become boring. Why do you ask? Do you want me to take you? Diana observed Daniele from beneath her lashes, wearing a mischievous smile. In reality, she had never tried to involve her friend in her double life, although he was aware of it. Daniele had no interest in those games, and she respected his wishes. She teased about it, but she liked that he remained the only clean person in her circle.

The police officer did not bother to explain that he had no intention of joining the circle. Instead, he said, Be careful; it seems the suitcase serial killer is somehow connected to that place.

Diana sighed, lay on her back, and stretched her arms behind her head. Don't you ever stop thinking about work? she complained, with a hint of annoyance.

Daniele retorted, And will you ever stop behaving like a child? He reproached her, turning toward her and placing a finger under her chin to make her look at him. Diana reluctantly complied, avoiding his gaze. For a few moments, they remained silent as Daniele contemplated Diana's perfect face, with delicate features, porcelain complexion, full red lips, cat-like eyes. Softening his tone, he whispered, I worry about you, Diana. The life you lead is dangerous, especially now that this madman is enjoying himself by killing innocent women.

Diana half-closed her eyelids and cynically responded, No one is innocent. Ever.

Please, don't act this way. You need to listen to me. Daniele knew she behaved like this because she had constructed a sort of armor against the world. Her cruelty toward others, whether as Mistress or a woman, stemmed from a terrible past that had left a deep mark, more than she was capable of admitting. He had known her when she reached the peak of self-destructive instincts, living a detached life, exorcising her demons by playing the role of an executioner, even if only for fun. He was considerably older than her and had dealt with many similar cases throughout his career, enough to understand that the depersonalization diagnosed by her psychiatrist at the time was one possible reaction to the type of trauma she had experienced. He knew that beneath the layers of hardness, cynicism, and ruthlessness, there was a soul deeply wounded, making complete healing impossible. He had hoped to pull her out of that abyss but had never succeeded. Diana rejected any form of help and withdrew further each day. Daniele had helplessly witnessed the systematic collapse of her self-preservation instincts as she seemed to challenge life with hatred, destroying everything beautiful around her, using people without remorse. Yet, he loved her, not like those men and women who had been her slaves and were obsessed with her. He genuinely loved her, loved that part of Diana that no one knew except him, hidden deep in her heart, almost annihilated but still there. He believed that in her way, she loved him too, perhaps because he was the only one who had never tried to destroy her.

I understand; you want me to be careful, she grumbled, without looking at him, somewhat bored.

Yes, please. Do it for me.

Alright. Diana finally looked at him, and for a brief moment, Daniele saw a spark in her eyes that made him believe that he might eventually make her feel better. Then her mask returned in the form of a seductive smile on her lips.

She