“A reverse St. Theresa and the Angel,” Nora explained. “I think I want it.”
“Nora.”
“Sorry.”
They went to the shop doop. Cyrus was half-worried they’d scare Doc into setting himself on fire if he pounded on the door.
He did it anyway.
BAM BAM BAM.
He had to do it a few more times, but eventually it got the man’s attention. The machine sound ceased and a clattering came from within, then a muffled swearing sound. Finally, the door opened.
Doc stood before them in stained canvas trousers and a t-shirt that appeared to have burn holes in it.
“Oh, Doc,” Nora said. “You are in so much trouble.”
“Mistress Nora,” he said with a grin. “I was hoping we’d meet again.”
“You better let us in,” Cyrus said.
“With pleasure.” Doc stepped back from the door and held out his arm to usher them in. “Watch your step.”
There was shit everywhere. Boxes and buckets full of sand and water, equipment, tools, the whole insane nine yards. As the smoke cleared, Cyrus saw various workstations in the shop. One for welding, one for polishing, one for engraving.
“I’d ask you to sit,” Doc said, “but—”
“We’ll stand.” Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t seem very surprised to see us.”
“Surprised? No. Pleased, most definitely.” He reached for her hand, and Nora swatted it away, rather viciously Cyrus thought, pleased.
“Give it up,” Cyrus said. “I’m done watching your stupid act. You lied to us.”
“I didn’t lie.” Doc held up both hands. “I would never lie to the Queen.”
“Doc, seriously,” Nora said. “It’s getting old.”
He lowered his hands. “You’re really not as much fun as they say you are, you know.”
“Ah, you’re one of those,” Nora said, nodding. “You only like the idea of women. You don’t like actual women.”
“You wound me.”
“You wish,” Nora said.
“The man whose picture we showed you—that’s Isaac Murran,” Cyrus said. “You know him. You either made or engraved a chastity device for him. Or both.”
“I don’t reveal the names of my customers,” Doc said.
“You already ratted him out as being in one of your classes,” Cyrus said.
“That was before he was a customer. After trading a few emails with the man, then he became a customer. After that, you get nothing else from me.”
“He’s dead, Doc. He killed himself. Shot himself in the head. Right before he did that, he called me.” Nora pointed at herself. “He had my business card. You gave it to him, right?”
“The seal of the confessional doesn’t break simply because the sinner dies,” Doc reminded her. “You, of all dommes, should know that. Yes?” He grinned a mean, nasty grin.
Nora narrowed her eyes at him. So Doc knew she was sleeping with a priest. And he didn’t mind taunting her about it.
Cyrus minded, however.
“That’s it. I’m going to punch him. You don’t mind?” Cyrus was speaking to Nora while looking at Doc.
“Go for it,” Nora said.
Cyrus reached for Doc’s shirt, but the old man stepped back and into a table. A small butane torch rolled off the table and onto the floor.
“Fine. Fine. But this can’t get out,” Doc said. “Not a word of it. I do private commissions and those private commissions pay my mortgage. The business isn’t licensed. It’s all cash. I don’t want to spend the rest of my golden years in jail for tax fraud, all right?”
“Come on,” Nora said. “You really think I report my tips to the IRS. We’re on the same page. We’re supposed to be on the same side.”
“Can we go into the house, at least?” Doc asked as he picked up the torch. “Before we burn the place down?”
“Lead the way,” Cyrus said. “You do anything squirrelly though, and I’m calling Uncle Sam on you today.”
They let Doc turn off all his equipment. He seemed to be working on some sort of human-sized cage. An ornate iron locking mechanism was in the middle of being assembled on his worktable. The man had talent, that was for sure. Not that Cyrus was going to tell Doc that.
They followed him from his shop and into his house through the backdoor. He led them into the living room, books on every surface. He offered them seats. Nora took the large leather armchair. Cyrus declined to sit, instead standing behind her, the power behind the throne.
“So…” Nora began as Doc took a seat opposite her in a club chair. “What’s up, Doc?”
“Did you really have to go there?” Cyrus muttered.
“I really had to,” she said. Doc laughed but he didn’t seem very happy, not as happy as he’d been the last time they spoke.
“It’s not flattery, you know,” Doc began as he eased back in his seat. “You really are a legend, Mistress. A friend of mine had a session with you in New York at your old club, the 8th Circle. Said it was the best kink he’d ever had in his life. Told me I had to get my old ass up to New York and beg for an hour with you.”
“Did this friend of yours give you one of my cards?” Nora asked.
Slowly, Doc nodded.
Fucking finally. Cyrus wanted to pump his fist, but he refrained. For now.
“When a man asks you for the name of a dominatrix who would do anything for the right price, there’s only one name—Mistress Nora.”
“Fair,” Nora said. “What did he want me for?”
“I’m getting to that.”
Cyrus could tell the man didn’t really want to be having this conversation. He could respect that. A little.
“So you had one of Nora’s New York cards and you gave that card to Isaac Murran?” Cyrus asked.
“Yes. Yes, I did. I had mentioned in that class on medical play, that I made custom chastity devices. He ordered one from me, and I made it for him.”
“When was this?” Cyrus had left his notebook in his pocket, afraid the presence of it would scare Doc into silence. But Cyrus made a mental note of everything Doc said.
“Two months ago,” Doc said. “Late July.”
“What did he ask for?” Nora said. “When he made the order, what did he say?”
“He wanted something that would punish erections. A trainer of sorts so that every time he got hard, it would be agony. Then a month ago he was back, and said it wasn’t enough.”
“Wasn’t enough?” Cyrus repeated. “What the hell did he want? A dude standing over him kicking him in the balls 24/7?”
“As he said, he wanted a more ‘permanent solution,’” Doc said.
“Permanent?” Nora narrowed her eyes at the man.
Doc said nothing for a moment, a long moment, and then an even longer moment. Cyrus was about ready to choke the answer out when he finally spoke.
“He wanted someone to castrate him.”
“Shit,” Cyrus said while Nora let loose a long whistle. Even she was impressed by that request.
“Castrate?” Cyrus said. “Like…literally castrate him. Cut his balls off.”