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Title: Whips, Chains and Murder
Author: Pattie
Rated: PG-17
MADAME HUXLEY'S HOUSE OF DISCIPLINE
WASHINGTON, DC
11:15 PMMulder hung from the rope, his blood-stained shirt also soaked with sweat. "Scully, if you'll just cut me down, I can... Damn that's painful... I'll explain everything." They were sitting in the basement of a century old house in downtown Washington. All sorts of chains, whips and restraints abounded.
Scully almost smiled, but held back as it would seem cruel. It did seem fitting that once again Mulder was in danger because he hadn't bothered to inform his partner of his investigation. But she couldn't bear to see a grown manin pain. Perhaps it was the doctor in her, she reasoned. She untied the ropes that hung him from the ceiling, and lit into him as she did so. "I know that three federal judges, a very prominent senator and fifteen so-called 'disciplinarians' were just hauled away before I arrived, but THIS... THIS is something I was sure you'd never be doing without telling me!"
Once again Mulder's feet touched the concrete floor of the cellar. "All in a day's work, and it was work. It wasn't an X-File, I know. And it wasn't exactly one of your everyday Bureau assignments. Honestly, Scully, it came across my desk while you were in Canada at the forensics seminar, and we were short staffed."
"Uh huh. So talk while I'm cleaning those wounds of yours."
"Please don't use the stinging concoction... "
"It's the best part, Mulder. Disinfects and reminds you of your folly. Besides, you knew I'd be back an hour before you began this assignment." Scully dabbed the horrible red antiseptic onto her partner's back, which showed whip marks.
Mulder cringed with each swipe of the cotton. "Ow! I know technically I ditched you, but try to go easy on me. We got a tip that several prominent officials were frequent customers at Madame Huxleys, so Skinner roped me in..."
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON, DC
48 HOURS EARLIERSkinner stood in front of seven male agents, one of whom was Mulder. "I realize we've all been over worked, but as you can see, this particular case merits our attention. Let's just say we need to be discreet and dispense with the matter quickly, before the media beats us to the punch."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Sir, but isn't this a civic matter?" A balding blond agent insisted.
"Not when it's becomes an interstate matter," Skinner explained. "It seems this type of things has no... borders."
Mulder smiled. "So, we're investigating Perverts Without Borders." His normally droll demeaner actually brought the house down. "Cool."
When the men had finally calmed down, Skinner continued his instructions. "As there have been several deaths linked to Madame Huxley's operation, I would advise extreme caution. We have to protect the... "
"Perverts?" the balding man chuckled. The others followed.
"Emerson, no one's perfect, and as we all know, there are people of other professions involved aside from politicians and judges. One of the most recent customers to go missing is a father of four. His body was found in a dumpster three hours ago, and I had the unpleasant task of telling that garage mechanic's family that their Dad wasn't coming home. Scott McGillivray, 32. His was the fifth homicide linked to that establishment. Now, let's get this operation underway." Skinner stood. "I mean now. Mulder, I know this isn't your usual area, but get a profile on the killer. Scully will be home soon, but she's off the clock for a few days." Stern, stoic and blunt. That was Skinner. "Emerson, Stinson, look into the neighborhood informants. Dawson, Fedak and Nash, police reports and the Chief of Police has some men ready to go. Millbank, try to pass yourself off as a client. Mulder? Where are you?"
"Yes, Sir." He preferred to throw pencils toward the ceiling in the X-Files Office, but at least this was honest work, and Scully was out of town. Still, he could just picture Scully undercover in a French maid's outfit, wielding a whip. He shook his head and smiled. "Naw", he thought. Then he heard a familiar voice. "I'm on it, Sir."
"Then let's go."
The agents closed their folders and took their places in the investigation.
CAPITOL AUTOMOTIVE REPAIR
WASHINGTON, DCMuder parked his car outside of the locked repair bays and noted the sign on the office door. "Closed Due To Death In Family." He knocked on the door.
A grey-haired man shook his head and pointed to the note.
"Federal Agent!"
The man opened the door. "Please, don't shout. I'm not one to broadcast this to the nation," the man whispered in a strong Scottish accent.
Mulder stepped inside. "I take it you're Mr. McGillivray. Scott's father?"
"Aye. Though now I wonder if I should admit it. My only son murdered by whorehouse miscreants. Well, state your business, Mr ?"
"Mulder. Special Agent Fox Mulder. Do you have any address books, phone numbers, maybe re-dial numbers stored on the business line that could help us?"
"Aye. Be my guest. Not that I'd keep such numbers, but my son was the proprietor of the place. I just did the books."
Mulder rumaged through customer accounts and then undertook the phone. "You don't buy parts from a Madame H, I suppose."
"Hell no! Well, get the number, find out how many times Scott called the bitch and get out. Me and his missus are about to plan a funeral."
"I realize you're angry, but I'm going to find out who killed your son, and I'll be on my way after I take down this information. This is the only number dialed more than twelve times? And four kids... "
"Bloody stupid, lame-brained sex maniac. My only son."
"No other children?" Mulder asked politely.
"Nine daughters, and don't you say he took after his old man! They're all accounted for under the wife and myself!"
Mulder realized he needed to tread carefully around this man. "So, I'll be off with this information, and I'm sorry to bother you. I know it's a bad time... "
"Hell no. Now Margaret, my eldest daughter, she takes over the place. Damn well-trained, too. And a staunch Presbyterian. She can re-build an engine with her eyes closed."
"I can imagine." Mulder backed toward the door. "Thanks for your co-operation, Mr. McGillivray."
"Hmmph!" was all the man could add.
2360 HEGAL PLACE
ALEXANDRIA, VA
THAT EVENINGMulder tossed the remaining crust of a pizza slice into the wastebasket beside his desk and continued to go through the Huxley House file. Armed with the telephone number culled from McGillivray's speed dial, he was ready to go undercover. It was time to call Millbank and get the festivities underway. But first, he dialed Scully's number. The answering machine kicked in, so he presumed she was taking her time coming home. Well, at least he had tried. There was no sense leaving a message, because she was still considered off duty, he reasoned. Her take on it would have been ditching. "We cover each other's backs," she had insisted on a number of occasions. But that didn't stop him from forging ahead. Besides, this wasn't her assignment. He was on loan from the usual fare. He dialed his temporarily assigned partner.
"Millbank."
"It's Mulder. I've got a contact number. With any luck, we should be in there soon. Tomorrow night, we are Madame Huxley's newest clients."
"Yeah. I guess I'm Senator Hildebrand from Oklahoma. No, make that an Admiral." The man stirred his coffee nervously. "So who are you, Mulder?" The man poured whiskey into his mug, trembling.
"I thought I'd pose as a profiler for the FBI, seeing as I'm not that 'Spooky" fella they're all crazy about. Well, actually I'm a professor of psychology from Yale. You ready to make an appointment with Madame Huxley and her therapists?"
"Right. Let's just hope some of your friends beam us out in time for -- Hello?"
"I'll call ahead and book us some discipline. We've been very naughty boys. Tomorrow night, it's time for Madame Huxley to close down." Mulder ended the call and dialed.
MADAME HUXLEY'S DISCIPLINE CENTER
8:00 PMMillbank and Mulder arrived at what appeared to be a normal, century old house in the middle of the city.
Mulder rang the buzzer three times as instructed by the woman who had booked the appointments. "Are you ready for a flogging, Admiral Flank?"
"Uh yeah. Laugh, Dr. Lamont. You're in for some confinement and pain yourself. Just remember that van around the corner may be listening in through that flower I'll drop from my lapel, but that doesn't guarantee much more than tee-hee's if we're found out and thrown out."
"Relax and do your job. Is that the mayor coming this way?"
"Yeah. Third divorce."
A young woman in a business suit bade Mulder and Millbank a welcome and ushered them into the house. "Madame will be with you shortly to discuss your needs. Please make yourselves comfortable. Some refreshment, perhaps?"
Both men shook their heads. Mulder eyed the stiletto heels the lanky brunette was wearing and tried to picture his regular partner, Scully, balancing in those little numbers.
"Very well. You will be served very soon. Our brochure for your perusal, and our staff are trained to meet all criteria for all services offered. Choose what you wish. It's our pleasure to serve you." The woman gave a seemingly knowing smile and retreated to another room.
Millbank read the brochure intently, while Mulder glanced through the photos. "My wife should try wearing some of these get ups," Millbank tittered. "What is it with vinyl these days?"
Mulder grinned. "Well... " Mulder cleared his throat. "There are so many fetishes I'd need a couple of hours to go through them. Personally, I might like to have the "Mutiny On The Bounty" treatment."
Millbank sighed. "Little Red Riding Hood Gives Big Bad Wolf A Lesson." The man was clearly uncomfortable, and the agents in the van were close to hysterical laughter. "I know, guys. Not ALL of us are into these things. I'm... a family man."
"Well, family man, remember to keep that daisy within earshot when you face Little Red Riding Hood. Hey, looks like the costume bottoms out."
"Well, I hope the wench you get... Hang on. Look who's here!"
Mulder glanced at the doorway. "Assistant Director Thoreau. No... It's okay. He's going straight upstairs. Probably has the menu memorized. You can take that book off of your face now, Millbank."
"That was close. Damn close. He wasn't at the meeting. Just what is he up to?"
Mulder just grinned. Well, it seemed like a pun to him.
"Hey, he could expose the operation, Mulder."
"He's probably up to whatever they have to offer."
About five minutes later, Madame Huxley made her grand entrance. She was a middle-aged, tiny woman, and her makeup was more than excessive, but she seemed to have a warm manner. "Welcome to Madame Huxley's House of Discipline. I see you've been reading our list. Your names, please?"
"Dr. Fred Lamont. Just flew in from Ohio."
"Admiral Augustus Flank."
"Ah yes. We were expecting you. And what have you chosen for your pleasure?"
"'Mutiny On The Bounty' and I'm ready to sail," Mulder said with a wink.
"Um, I'll have... 'The B-big Bad Wolf'," Millbank stuttered.
The lady smiled at him with a twinkle in her eye. "Now you just relax, Admiral. Our first time customers are treated with the utmost respect and confidentiality. Verna will be down in a minute to serve you, Admiral. Dr. Lamont, Maylene will be ready to serve you very soon. Remember, all services rendered are payable to Lorelei Huxley by check only, and only to Lorelei Huxley. The pleasure is all ours." Madame Huxley exited the room and left Millbank sweating and Mulderleafing through the brochure.
"BDSM in the nation's capitol," Mulder whispered. "Who woulda thought?"
Millbank swept the sweat from his forehead and wiped his hands on his pants. "Don't forget the murders, dammit! If we blow this one, either they get us or the Bureau does, and I'm not cut out for this assignment. Why the hell am I here
anyway...?""Shut up, Millbank!" Mulder leaned over to the daisy in his cohort's lapel. "He's not leaving, guys. Stay cool, pal, and let's get this operation underway. Back-up is right around the corner."
A luscious blonde in a captain's outfit, obviously representing Captain Bligh, appeared. "I'm Maylene, and you don't speak unless I allow it, the whip is mighty handy, and let's have a great session, Mr. Christian!" It was a pity she just exuded sensuality and worked in this place, but Mulder stood and followed her to the basement.
Millbank's disciplinarian was a medium brown haired, vivacious young woman, dressed according to the menu, her ample breasts threatening to fall out of the low bodice of her lacy red dress. "Ready to play, you naughty, naughty wolf?"
"Y-y-yes," Millbank managed to say. "It's... it's... "
"It's your first time, honey." The girl caressed his face and licked her lips. "I can liberate you in ways you've never imagined... But let's get rid of the flower. Trina is allergic, and we've been so busy lately."
There went the connection. Mulder and Millbank were no longer audible. The daisy sat in a trash bin in the parlor.
"Damn. They're pros," Skinner grumbled in the van. "Are you picking up anything?"
"No Sir. I don't hear Mulder or Millbank. There's a guy asking for the 'Salad Toss', but other than that, nothing. Save to tape anyway?"
"May as well. We give them ten minutes, then go in armed. Flack jackets are NOT optional, people."
Scully had returned to the Washington area, and been to the office. As there was nothing on her schedule for the day, she decided to look in on the investigation. Her car was parked a block away from the Huxley House. Skinner turned as she entered the back of the van.
"Agent Scully. I didn't expect you to come down here."
"Well, I thought I'd drop by to see what's going on, as my partner is on the case. What's going on?"
"We're going in soon. Lost contact with Mulder and Millbank. If you want in, grab a flack jacket and listen to a replay of what we managed to get before communications went down."
Scully frowned as she heard Mulder and Millbank, then their 'disciplinarians'. "This is the murdered mechanic case, isn't it? Weren't there four others?"
"I'm afraid so, Agent Scully."
"Mulder knows I'm back by now. We agreed to maintain contact in the event anything happened in the other's absence. Damm!"
Skinner looked at his watch. "All right. Local police are here, so let's go in!"
After the door was forced, the police and Federal Agents stormed through the house, arresting five prominent professionals and their 'disciplinarians', in various states of undress, arousal and encumberment.
The Big Bad Wolf had been handcuffed to a chair face down and was in the process of a whipping when another agent orderedhis mistress to "Freeze."
As for Fletcher Christian, of the H.M.S. Bounty... Scully had raced down to the cellar with a local sergeant to discover her partner dressed in the old swashbuckler's attire, bloodied shirt ripped open and the man almost unconscious. "Freeze! Federal Agents! Mulder? We need to get you cleaned up."
The police sergeant read the dominatrix her rights.
"I hope that isn't an indictment of my lifestyle." he whispeed hoarsely.
Scully beamed, knowing that her partner and best friend was going to be relatively safe. "Wait until I get my first aid kit. Why didn't you call me?"
"I didn't want to spoil your time away from me," he managed to joke. "How was the seminar, anyway? No, put the red stuff away. Enough pain already."
Skinner wanted to personally arrest Madame Huxley. "How did you know we had feds here?"
"Written all over their faces. If they ain't already got it up, and they sweat, that tells it all. You can count on the haircuts." Ms. Huxley replied. "I wasn't born yesterday. Besides, the Wolf was sweatin' like a virgin on honeymoon night..."
Scully tossed aside the used cotton balls. "You're going to need an antibiotic, just in case. Who knows what that whip's been in contact with."
"If I told you, you might not respect your local Congressman," Mulder quipped. "Let's get the hell away from here."
END
If you enjoyed this story, please feed the author.
Title: Whips, Chains and Murder
Author: Pattie
Details: 16k · NC-17 · Standalone · 10/15/05 · Email/Website
Gossamer Category(Keywords): Story [UST, Humor, Angst]
Pairings: Mulder/Agent Millbank Partnership
SPOILERS: Set in Season 6.
SUMMARY: Mulder is sent undercover to unvestigate a house of ill repute in Washington.
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