Chapter Nine

Beth gripped the cold steel bar of her holding cell inside the dull room of the LVPD police precinct, her manicured fingers trembling as she shook them with desperate force. Her silver mini-dress, the same one she had been arrested in, clung to her enhanced curves, accentuating the provocative swell of her 32E breasts. The plunging neckline teased the edges of her taut nipples, barely concealed by the glossy material. At the same time, her platinum blonde curls spilled over her shoulders in a sexy cascade. The blonde’s bare feet pressed against the gritty concrete floor, the precinct having confiscated her 6-inch slutty stilettos as potential weapons during her arrest.

Beth’s heart pounded with urgency, the image of her best friend and colleague, Melanie, hogtied and gagged in the Toymaker’s grasp, searing in her mind and propelling her forward. She rattled the bars again, hoping to get someone’s attention.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the jailer, a middle-aged man with a potbelly, his weathered look showing the image of a cop who had seen better days, appeared before her. His dark eyes narrowed as he studied Beth’s sexy form, a faint smirk crossing his lips.

“What’s all this noise about, lady?” he asked, his voice rough with irritation as he crossed his arms.

Beth’s glossy lips parted. Now was the time to talk her way out of it. Unfortunately, her conditioning held firm, and her words were filtered through the sugary valley-girl lilt she had come to despise. “Like, I totally gotta get out of here, sir,” she chirped, her voice high and pleading. “It’s, like, super important. I totally need to save my friend!”

The jailer stifled a chuckle as she spoke. He had seen some slutty whores pass through these cells in his time, but perhaps none as dumb as this bitch, he thought. The man shook his head. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. You were arrested for prostitution,” he said condescendingly. “It’s best you stay here to keep out of trouble. No one’s going anywhere until your bail hearing.”

The undercover cop’s fingers tightened on the bars, her bare toes curling against the cold floor as she fought to force the truth past her conditioning, sensing her opportunity was disappearing fast. “I’m, like, totally not a prostitute!” she insisted, her voice quivering with frustration. She tried to say her real name, Bethany Shaw, and detail her job and mission, that her locker was in this very building. However, the conditioning from those mix tapes held strong, and her words twisted under Warren’s subliminal grip. “I’m, like, Bambi, and I’m a total whore,” she blurted, her bright pink lips trembling as her eyes widened in horror at the words that betrayed her.

The jailer raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement as he turned away. “Exactly, babe. I’m glad we can agree on something,” he muttered, his boots thudding against the concrete as he walked back towards the door without another word.

A throaty chuckle broke the silence behind the transformed blonde, and Beth spun around. A woman lounged on the cell’s sagging cot, her sparkly red tube top straining against her obviously enhanced chest. A matching red skirt hugged her hips, riding low to reveal a sliver of her red g-string thong above it. Her dyed pink hair fell in wild waves, framing the face of an experienced escort in her mid-thirties. Her name was Kendall Monroe, and she was stuck in the cell for the same reason Beth was.

The woman smirked, her green eyes glinting with sarcasm as she propped herself up on one elbow. “You totally convinced him there, blondie,” Kendall drawled, her Southern accent thick and mocking. “Maybe now you can stop your whining, ‘cause I’m tryin’ to catch a nap before my man gets here.”

Beth’s feet padded softly as she stepped closer, her conditioning continuing to force a provocative sway despite her fury. “I, like, totally need to get out,” she said, the sugary voice clashing sharply with the desperation in her blue eyes. “My friend’s, like, in super danger, and I can’t stay locked up here!”

The pink-haired escort rolled her eyes, stretching languidly on the cot, her red skirt riding higher to reveal even more of her inked skin. “No one cares about your little drama, Barbie girl,” she said in an irritated tone. “Save it for the judge.”

Before Beth could respond, the jailer’s boots echoed again, accompanied by heavier footsteps. Looking out, the undercover cop saw the big, bald black man striding into view, his garish purple suit reflecting under the single ceiling lamp, keeping the entire windowless room illuminated, a gold tooth flashing in the man’s wide grin. Tyson’s broad frame filled the corridor, his gold chains clinking with each step, and his very presence exuded a dangerous charisma that made Beth feel dirty just by glancing at him. The jailer unlocked the cell door, the metal creaking as he swung it open.

“Kendall, your bail’s paid,” the officer said, stepping aside. “You’re free to go.”

The pink-haired, busty woman sprang from the cot and sashayed toward her man. She threw her arms around Tyson, pressing her plump lips to his in a deep, hungry kiss, her body molding against his muscly frame. “You’re always around to save me, baby,” she purred, her voice thick with playful affection as she pulled back, her hands lingering on his chest.

Tyson’s grin twisted into a scowl as he delivered a sharp smack against Kendall’s plump ass, drawing a surprised gasp from her lips. “Why the hell do you keep getting caught, woman?” he growled in anger, his voice laced with frustration. “Next time, I’ll leave your ass in here to rot.”

Kendall giggled, undeterred, and kissed him again, her tongue teasing the man’s lips as she pressed closer. “Don’t be like that, sugar,” she cooed charmingly. She glanced back at Beth, her eyes glinting with mischief. “This blonde slut’s lookin’ to get out too,” she said. “She’s a bit whiny, but dumb as a rock, and I think she’d be real popular with your extreme clients, baby. Perhaps you got some cash to spring her out, too.”

Tyson turned, his expression turning softer as his predatory eyes raked over Beth’s silver-clad curves, lingering on her enhanced breasts and smooth, bare legs. He stepped closer to the bars, his grin widening with interest, his stare catching Beth off guard. “Is that true, blondie? You wanna hang out with me?” he asked smoothly. “I can make sure you’re taken care of, real good.”

Beth’s heart raced. The man’s stare made her feel worthless and dirty, and his nonchalant mistreatment of Kendall disturbed her. Accepting his offer would get her out of this jail cell, where she was no use to anyone, not least Melanie. However, it would also risk putting her in a new cycle of degradation, struggling to escape the man’s control. The blonde shook her head as she stepped back to sit on the now-vacated cot. “Like, no thanks, I’m totally good right here,” she chirped pleasantly despite her uneasy feeling. She knew she needed to find a different way to get out of here.

The black man chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent a chill down the undercover cop’s spine. “Suit yourself, Barbie girl,” he said as he slung an arm over Kendall’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Enjoy jail.” He turned, guiding his woman out of the cell as the pair disappeared down the corridor, the jailer locking the cell door behind them with a heavy clang.

Beth sank back on the cot, her back against the damp wall. Her body was shaking as she struggled to contain a mixture of emotions, none of them pleasant. Melanie’s terrified image burned in her mind. Alone in the cell, the blonde knew she had to find a way out, no matter the cost, to save her friend from a terrible fate.

❖

Beth lay across the lumpy bed alone in her grimy holding cell as boredom and helplessness gnawed at her. She had worn the same silver dress for almost two days now, and it continued to cling to her glistening curves. The stale air pressed against her, and the distant chatter of officers further down the corridor echoed her trapped state. Her friend’s hogtied image burned in her mind, urging her to act, but she was exhausted from all the banging, and she was left defeated and powerless. The undercover cop needed to form a new plan.

Footsteps approached, and Beth’s gaze snapped to the corridor. The same middle-aged prison officer, his round belly straining his blue uniform, shuffled in and sat at a desk just beyond the bars. He ignored his prisoner, his fingers flipping through paperwork, the faint rustling mixing with the sound of his computer monitor. Beth rose and gripped the bars, her manicured nails gleaming.

“Like, sir, you totally gotta let me go,” she chirped with soft desperation. “I promise you, it’s like, super important, please!”

The jailer glanced up, his brown eyes narrowing with annoyance as he leaned back in his creaking chair. “Give it a rest. Do I need to put a muzzle on you, girl, or are you gonna stay quiet?” he asked impatiently, his tone sharp as he tapped a pen against the desk.

Beth bit her glossy lip, avoiding the question as she pressed her body up against the bars. She had spent the last few months using her body to get closer to the truth; perhaps that was the direction she needed to take now. Leaning closer to the bars, her nipples visible against her dress, she parted her lips. “Like, there’s gotta be something you need, something I can do for you, mister,” she purred with a sugary voice, obviously attempting to flirt with the rotund man.

The man’s eyes flicked up, his interest piqued as he studied the gorgeous, busty woman, a grin spreading across his stubbled face. “Ohh? And what exactly are you prepared to do for me, sweetheart?” he asked suggestively, his pen pausing mid-tap.

The blonde’s heart raced, her toes curling against the floor. “Umm, like, anything, sir,” she chirped, her glossy lips trembling as she forced the words out seductively.

The jailer’s grin widened as he stood, his eyes glinting with sleazy delight. “Anything?” he repeated as he slowly approached her.

“Like, totally anything,” Beth said, her voice a sugary plea, though her stomach twisted at the thought of another degrading act to secure her freedom.

The man’s boots thudded as he stood before the bars, his eyes raking over the blonde’s curves. “You know, I can’t let you go without losing my job,” he said carefully. “But if you’re a real good girl for me, I might pull some strings, get your bail hearing moved to tomorrow morning.”

Beth gasped. It was the opening she was waiting for. “Like, what do you want, sir?” she asked with dread. She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it.

The prison officer chuckled, his fingers brushing the keys at his hip. “You got a real pretty mouth, doll,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve been thinking about using it since I threw you in here.”

The imprisoned woman shuddered. She hated the thought of providing sexual favors again on a whim, especially when her colleague was out there somewhere being tormented. But she had done this hundreds of times by now; one more wouldn’t hurt. Beth forced a coy smile, her lips glistening. “Like, I can totally make you happy with my mouth, sir, if you promise to help me out.”

The middle-aged man grinned, removing his keys from his hip and unlocking the door with a heavy clank. He stepped inside and snapped a pair of cold metal cuffs around Beth’s wrists in front of her. “That’s for my safety,” he muttered, his eyes gleaming as he grabbed the cuffs binding her and led the blonde to his desk chair. Beth’s bare feet pressed against the concrete as she followed.

The man sat, his potbelly spilling over his belt, and unbuckled his pants, freeing a small, hairy cock that reeked of sweat and made Beth internally gag. Still, she had dealt with worse. Beth dropped to her knees before him, and with a cruel smirk, the jailer slapped his dick against the blonde’s cheek. “Do a good job, doll, and I’ll see about helping you out,” he said, leaning back.

Beth struggled to hide her discomfort, but she knew the sooner she started, the sooner she’d be on her way to securing her freedom. Her glossy pink lips parted and wrapped themselves around the man’s rigid shaft. Her newfound experience drove her movements, her tongue swirling around the member with practiced skill. She was no longer a timid officer who didn’t know what to do with a cock in her mouth; she was a seasoned professional, and she proved it by teasing the sensitive tip as she bobbed her head slowly.

The bitter taste flooded Beth’s senses, but she suppressed a gag, her lips gliding along his length with a sultry rhythm, her hair swaying perfectly against her shoulders. Beth’s cuffed hands rested on his thighs, her nails digging into his uniform as she worked, her eyes flicking up to gauge his reaction, hoping to end this quickly.

The jailer groaned, his rough hands tangling in Beth’s curls, guiding her head with forceful thrusts that deepened her rhythm. “Fuck, you ain’t lying. You really are a whore, doll,” he rasped, his hips bucking slightly as Beth’s lips tightened around him, her tongue dancing along the underside of his dick. She forced a moan from her throat, the sound vibrating against his flesh, intensifying the man’s pleasure.

Beth quickened her pace, her glossy lips sliding faster, her mouth a warm, wet haven that drove the fat man closer to the edge. Beth’s hands strained against the cuffs, the metal clinking softly as she leaned into the degrading act, her mind focusing on the bigger picture and Melanie’s safety.

The male officer’s groans deepened, his fingers tightening further in Beth’s hair as his cock began to twitch violently. The undercover cop worked relentlessly, her tongue swirling with deliberate precision as she worked him towards a climax. With a guttural moan, the man held her down, forcing the bimbo to take his full length as his hot release of cum flooded her mouth, the bitter taste overwhelming her senses. Beth swallowed every drop, not just because she had no other choice, but because that was what she was used to doing, her throat working under his grip, forcing down the bile rising in her chest. As the man released her, Beth pulled back, her bright lips smeared with traces of the jailer’s cum, her blue eyes burning with suppressed rage.

The man leaned back in his chair, gasping, his face flushed with satisfaction. “Damn, doll, I ain’t ever had a blowjob like that before,” he panted, his eyes half-closed in bliss.

Beth looked up at the officer and glanced around. This was her opportunity. Her bound hands darted to the desk beside her, where a heavy coffee mug sat among the scattered papers. With a swift motion, the blonde grabbed the mug and smashed it against her jailer’s temple, the ceramic cracking as it hit the perfect spot. The man slumped forward, unconscious, his body sagging in the chair.

Beth’s heart raced as she fumbled through the officer’s pockets, her cuffed wrists trembling as she found his keys. She unlocked the cuffs, freeing herself, and rubbed her sore wrists. Standing up, Beth strutted towards the evidence locker and found her 6-inch silver stilettos inside a transparent evidence bag. She opened the bag and slipped the heels on with a practiced grace.

Beth’s heels clicked softly as she slowly made her way out of the precinct, her knowledge of the building allowing her to sneak out of a side fire door. The cool night air hit the blonde’s skin as she stepped onto the Vegas streets, free again but driven with a new challenge.

❖

Beth trudged up the creaking steps to her room at the Desert Inn, her body heavy with exhaustion from her jail experience. Her silver dress continued to cling to her curves, and her stilettos clicked unevenly on the worn wood. The cool Vegas air brushed the woman’s bare thighs, but all she craved was a hot shower and a moment’s rest. Melanie’s bound image reminded her of her mission and pushed her forward despite the aching muscles.

As the blonde reached her motel door, her heart lurched. The lock was shattered, the door splintered as if it had been kicked in with brutal force. She froze, her long, manicured fingers trembling as she timidly pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest. The room was a chaotic mess: the mattress had been flipped upside down, sheets and blankets strewn across the floor, her slutty outfits were scattered around like confetti, and her makeup collection spilled across the dresser in a riot of colors.

Someone had torn through Beth’s belongings, leaving no corner untouched. The undercover cop’s makeshift evidence board, once pinned with photos and strings connecting the Toymaker to several murders escorts, lay in tatters, with several images missing. Beth held her breath, her blue eyes darting frantically as she realized the Toymaker had turned her room over.

A faint creak echoed from the bathroom, snapping Beth’s head toward the sound. Was the killer still here? Her heart pounded, adrenaline surging as she dropped to her knees, her stilettos scraping the floor. She reached under the bed, her fingers closing around the cool metal of a baseball bat she’d kept hidden for protection. Warren hadn’t allowed her to keep a firearm, and she rued that decision right now.

Rising slowly, Beth’s conditioning forced a provocative sway of her hips despite the terrified urgency in her breath, her silver dress riding higher as she crept toward the bathroom door. Her grip tightened on the bat, her fat lips trembling with a mix of fear and resolve. The blonde raised the weapon, ready to swing, as a figure suddenly loomed in the doorway.

“Take it easy, officer Shaw!” a familiar voice barked, and Beth froze, the bat hovering mid-air. Captain Wesley Vance stood before her, his hands raised in surrender, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the dim light from a flickering bulb above. His civilian attire—a fitted navy polo and khaki pants—clung to his broad frame, his stern eyes softening with concern as he took in Beth’s slutty, heavily modified appearance.

Beth lowered the bat, her chest heaving as her conditioning kept her from saying his name. “Captain, umm, whatsyourface,” she said in frustration. “Like, what are you doing here, sir?” she chirped, the bimbo dialect forcing her to blush as the man who knew her as the young, ambitious cop witnessed the extent of her undercover conditioning.

Vance tried to ignore the obvious red flags and stepped forward, his boots crunching on a broken lipstick tube. “Don’t worry, Officer Shaw, Warren told me everything,” he said, his voice low and measured. However, he offered no details of what “everything” entailed. “I came to find you, and I found your room turned over like this. Someone’s been through here, and it’s no longer safe.”

Beth’s heart raced, her mind reeling from the irony of her boss’s words. She would have argued that this room was never safe, often the scene of her most degrading acts as she searched for the Toymaker. The blonde’s glossy pink lips parted as she tried to speak of Melanie, but her conditioning blocked her friend’s name. “Like, we totally need to find my friend, sir,” she said desperately. “She’s, like, in super danger!”

Despite the severity of the situation, Captain Vance struggled to hide a chuckle as he heard the woman speak. He nodded, his jaw tightening as he glanced at the ransacked room. “I understand, but it’s best we talk this through at the station,” he said, his tone firm but laced with concern. He moved toward the door, his boots heavy on the floor.

Beth’s bare shoulders sagged, her exhaustion pleading for a moment to wash away the grime. “Like, can I totally shower and change first, sir?” she asked, her voice a sugary pleading lilt as she gestured to her silver dress.

Vance shook his head, his eyes flickering to her slutty figure with a mix of amusement and urgency. “There’s no time for that,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “The killer knows where you are, and I’m sure he’ll return. We need to move now.” The large captain stood at the door, his broad frame filling the threshold, waiting for Beth to follow.

The undercover cop’s heart sank as she followed, continuing to move seductively as she failed to battle against her longstanding hypnotic conditioning, and she tottered toward the door. Beth stepped back out into the Vegas night and followed her boss toward an uncertain future at the precinct. Everything had escalated, and Beth knew that time wasn’t on their side.

❖

A tense silence hung in Captain Vance’s office at the LVPD precinct, the air thick with the quiet hum of judgment. Beth sat rigidly in a hard-backed chair, her slutty figure drawing Wesley’s astonished gaze from behind his uncluttered desk. Warren Skinner leaned against the back wall, his black blazer open over a snug gray shirt, a smug grin curling his lips as he watched the scene unfold.

Vance leaned forward, his gray hair uncombed, his navy uniform straining across his shoulders. The captain’s eyes flicked over Beth, a mix of shock and aroused disapproval in his gaze. “Warren, I told you to do whatever it takes to make this mission succeed,” he said in a measured tone. “But this transformation, it’s a little extreme, way too extreme, in fact.”

Warren’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he straightened, his boots scuffing softly on the linoleum floor. His eyes rested on the busty blonde sitting before him. His traitorous former partner’s daughter, transformed and humiliated as she sat where it all began. It was a sweet moment for the man. “The Toymaker has a very specific type, Captain,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with defiance. “I tried it Beth’s way at the start, let her play it subtle, but she wasn’t getting any results. I had to take matters into my own hands.” He grinned, glancing back down at the blonde. “It worked, didn’t it? We lured that bastard out, and now we’ve got more intel than ever before, thanks to Beth’s sexy form over there.”

The busty blonde’s fists clenched, her manicured nails biting into her palms as Warren’s words ignited her fury. He had activated her “smart bimbo” trigger before the meeting, freeing her from the valley-girl dialect she was forced to recite. However, all of her remaining conditioning was locked in place. “You’re a son of a bitch, Daddy,” she snapped, her voice sharp and articulate, her eyes blazing with contempt as she glared at him.

Captain Vance raised an eyebrow as he spotted the endearing word that slipped out of Beth’s mouth before lifting a hand, his jaw tightening as he ignored Beth’s outburst. “Okay, enough of that. Let’s focus on the evidence,” he said commandingly as he slid an open folder across the desk, photos of the ropes, gags, and embalming fluid they found in his hotel room spilling out. “We know the Toymaker was working out of the Bellagio, but now that we’ve found his base, he’s likely moved on to another location.”

Warren nodded, stepping closer to the desk. “He’s a slippery bastard, and he’s toying with us,” he said calmly.

“That letter he left,” Vance continued, “addressing Beth by name, and the capture of Office Sachs, it raises concerns about our security.” The captain paused, rubbing his chin momentarily. “There has to be a mole in the precinct. There’s no other way the Toymaker could be fed that kind of information. Someone is helping him stay one step ahead of us.”

Beth’s heart raced. “My friend doesn’t fit the Toymaker’s preferences at all,” she said, frustratingly still unable to speak her colleague’s name. “He’s only holding her to get to me. He wants me.”

Wesley nodded, his stern gaze softening slightly as he met Beth’s blue eyes. “I think you’re right,” he said in a measured tone. “He’s using her as leverage to get to you. He’s making this personal.”

The blonde leaned forward. “Then we need to do everything we can to rescue Me-” she paused, so close to being able to say the name. “-my friend. I’m ready to get back out there. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Warren chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Beth’s spine. He stepped closer, his eyes raking over her with deliberate amusement. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, doll,” he said condescendingly, treating her like his possession rather than a respected officer of the law. “You’re too involved. I mean, you are the target.”

Beth’s eyes narrowed, her fury boiling over. “Shut up, Daddy,” she spat, her articulate voice laced with venom as she glared at him, hating the forced endearment.

Captain Vance sighed, rubbing his temple as he leaned back in his chair. “Warren’s right,” he said reluctantly. “You’re the killer’s focus, and putting you back in harm’s way is too risky. We have to play the long game. He’s counting on us making rash mistakes. Going all guns blazing could lead to more bodies.”

Warren nodded, his grin sharpening as he crossed his arms, his gaze lingering on Beth with a gleam of sadistic delight. He relished the thought of keeping her under his control, her humiliation a sweet bonus to the mission’s continuation. “We’ve got to be smart about this, doll,” he said mockingly. “It’s best if you stay holed up at my place while the professionals handle this.”

Beth gasped, her fury erupting as she suddenly stood, the chair scraping against the floor. “Every day we wait, my friend could end up in one of those damn doll boxes,” she said, her voice shaking with rage. “If you two aren’t prepared to help her, I’ll catch that son of a bitch and save her myself.” In an instant, the blonde spun toward the door, her stilettos clicking furiously as she stormed off.

The captain stood, his voice booming. “Office Shaw, wait!” he exclaimed.

Beth ignored him, her heart pounding as she rushed out of the office. Her resolve to save Melanie burned brighter than ever, and if her own colleagues weren’t going to pool their resources into rescuing one of her own, she’d take the Toymaker down herself.

❖

Three days after storming out of Captain Vance’s office, Beth stood before a makeshift evidence board in her new room at the Emerald Escapes Motel, a rundown hideout a few blocks from the Desert Inn. Unable to return to her trashed motel, the blonde had used the last of Warren’s stipend to rent this room under the name Bella Horton, her undercover alias that she rarely used.

The undercover cop’s red halter top clung to her enhanced 32E breasts, the fabric dipping low to show off a tantalizing glimpse of her generous cleavage, while a matching red skirt hugged her exaggerated curves, its hem grazing her thigh in a provocative but less overtly slutty style than she was used to. Her 4-inch black heels stood motionless on the warped floorboards, accentuating her long, smooth legs as she pinned a red dot on a tattered Vegas map, trying to decipher where the Toymaker might be hiding.

Beth sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation as she sank back onto the creaky bed, the thin, lumpy mattress groaning under her weight. Her platinum curls spilled wavily across her bare shoulders, and her bright red lips pursed in exasperation. No fresh leads had surfaced since the Bellagio raid, and the weight of Melanie’s captivity pressed heavily on her chest.

The woman’s stomach rumbled, a sharp reminder of the pizza she’d ordered nearly two hours ago. A loud knock at the door jolted Beth upright, her heart racing with a mix of hunger and caution. “That better be the damn pizza,” she muttered, her voice still articulate after she had stormed out of the captain’s office before Warren could revert her back to dumb bimbo mode.

Beth rose, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she grabbed her baseball bat from beside the bedside table, its cool metal a reassuring weight in her hands. She walked with a provocative sway as she approached the door. Peering through the peephole, the blonde saw a pimply young man, barely 18, in a red cap and red-and-white Jerry’s Pizza Palace uniform, clutching a steaming pizza box.

The on-edge woman set the bat aside, her breath easing slightly, and opened the door, the scent of the pizza flooding her starving senses. She gratefully took the box from the boy, her curvaceous figure drawing the boy’s wide-eyed stare.

The delivery boy fumbled with a receipt, his acne-dotted cheeks flushing as his gaze settled on Beth’s plunging neckline. “Uh, ma’am, the, umm, order comes to twenty-eight dollars,” he stammered, his voice cracking as he shifted nervously, his lanky frame awkward as he stood.

Beth’s long fingernail tapped the pizza box steadily, her red lips forming a coy smile as she softly bit her lower lip. She had no access to her old bank accounts as Bethany Shaw, and Warren’s final stipend, or pocket money as he called it, was gone. Refusing to return to the streets to sell herself, Beth was penniless, her stomach growling louder. “You know, you’re awfully handsome,” she said, her voice sultry and teasing as she leaned closer, her halter top stretched against her chest. Although she had no intention to walk the streets, her body was still the best form of currency she held. “If I let you have a little fun with my body inside, perhaps you could cover the cost for me?”

The boy’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in disbelief. He’d never fucked a woman before, not least one as incredibly attractive as the slut he saw before him. “You’re serious?” he managed, his hands trembling as he asked.

Beth’s smile deepened, her conditioning making the flirtation effortless. “Oh, absolutely, sweetie,” she purred, grabbing his collar and pulling the young man into the room with a gentle tug, the door clicking shut behind them.

The blonde guided the boy to her bed, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his uniform shirt to reveal a scrawny, pale chest. She peeled off her halter top, the fabric sliding down her curves to expose her gravity-defying tits, her erect nipples prominent in their display.

She noticed the boy glancing at her evidence board and swiftly pushed him onto the creaky mattress before straddling his hips, her skirt hiked up as she guided his already rigid cock into her slick, ready pussy, her body responding with a conditioned warmth that masked her emotional numbness. She rocked slowly, her slutty curves bouncing with each deliberate thrust, her hair swaying as she moaned softly, the sound a practiced performance she had delivered many times.

The boy groaned, his clumsy hands gripping Beth’s hips, his inexperience clear as he bucked beneath her, his cock slipping deeper with each of her controlled movements. Beth could tell that he had never fucked a woman before by the way he held her, by the way he was trying too hard. She had fucked enough 18-year-olds for their birthday to know what inexperience felt like. The woman’s pussy gripped him tighter, as she cooed out in pleasure.

Beth’s moans grew louder, a slutty crescendo that echoed in the rundown room, her body a tool for transaction as she rode him harder, her fake tits jiggling intensely. The delivery boy’s gasps intensified, his fingers digging into her body as he chased his release, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Beth’s practiced rhythm pushed him closer to the edge as she bounced, her hands roaming over her own naked breasts.

The undercover bimbo quickened her hips, her pussy clenching around his dick as she leaned forward, her curls brushing the boy’s bare chest, her moans a calculating seduction that drove him wild. The young man’s body tensed, a strangled cry escaping as he orgasmed inside the blonde, his hot release flooding her with warmth. Beth slowed, her body aroused, but her mind devoid of any emotion for the transaction she had conducted, the act reduced to a means to an end.

She slid off him and dismissed the boy with a calm smile. “Thanks for the pizza, sweetie,” she said as she handed him back his shirt.

“Thanks for that,” he stuttered, slipping the top on as Beth guided him towards the door. “Can I get your number?” He asked, but before he received a reply, he found himself out on the motel landing with the door slammed in his face.

Beth sighed and slumbered over to the edge of her bed, sitting as she opened the pizza box, the cheese stretching as she peeled a warm slice away from the rest and took a warm bite. The transactional sex had left barely any mark on her soul, her emotional connection to such acts practically severed by months of degradation.

The blonde’s blue eyes returned to the evidence board, its tattered map and scattered photos a reminder of her mission. She chewed the pizza slowly as she studied the evidence. She knew the answer was around here somewhere, and she knew she was still sharp enough to figure it out.

❖

The following afternoon, Beth stood before her evidence board in her room at the Emerald Escapes Motel, her eyes tracing the Vegas map pinned with red dots. She wore a black wrap dress and heels, her hair pulled up in tight, high pigtails. She had no idea why she had decided to style her hair that way today, but it felt natural to her.

She was frustrated at the lack of progress she had made as she searched for the Toymaker’s, suspected to be James Day, new location. No new disappearances had been reported since he abandoned his Bellagio base, and no Barbie doll box had been delivered to anyone’s home, a small relief that told Beth Melanie was still alive. The blonde’s heart pounded with determination as she continued to search for clues.

An abrupt knock at the door echoed through the room, startling the undercover cop, her pulse spiking with unease. She hadn’t ordered pizza this time, and no one knew she was hiding out here, so she wasn’t expecting any visitors. The blonde’s fingers closed around her trusty baseball bat before she tottered to the door. Carefully peering through the peephole, Beth was shocked to find only an empty corridor, no one standing in sight. “What the hell?” she muttered, her voice sharp with tension.

Against her better judgment, Beth unlatched the door and eased it open, the bat gripped tightly in her hand. She glanced left and right, eyebrow raised as she found the motel’s hallway deserted. Even the motel parking lot over the railing was mostly devoid of vehicles.

Beth’s gaze dropped to the doorstep, where she found a large brown cardboard box sitting waiting, its presence sending a shiver down her spine. Sensing a trap, the blonde’s frustration at her lack of leads overpowered her caution, and she bent down to pick up the box, her curiosity urging her forward.

The cop lugged the box inside, its surprising lightness for its size unnerving, and placed it on her creaky bed. Examining the nondescript box, she found no writing or address, a clear sign it had been hand-delivered to her door. She held her breath momentarily, half expecting a gruesome decapitated head like you’d find in the movies as she peeled open the flaps. To her pleasant surprise, no head materialized. Instead, Beth’s eyebrows arched as she discovered numerous smaller brown parcels shuffled inside, along with a DVD box with a note tucked in the sleeve, the message reading “Watch Me.”

Beth grabbed the DVD with trembling fingers as she crossed to the room’s outdated TV. She had no idea what was in those parcels, or who had sent them, but she knew it must have been connected to the case, and her heart skipped a beat at the prospect of a new lead. She slid the disc into the attached player, and the DVD spun into life before she sat back on the bed’s edge, her black dress shifting against the uncomfortable mattress.

Pressing play, the blonde’s heart filled with dread. The screen flickered to life, revealing a scene that tore at Beth’s soul, prompting her eyes to widen in horror. Melanie, stark naked, was bound to a chair with red nylon ropes securing her arms behind her back, a tight chest harness encircling her modest bare breasts, accentuating their shape. A white Hitachi wand vibrator was strapped to the seat, pressed neatly between the bound cop’s spread legs, vibrating softly against her clit. Melanie’s wide eyes gleamed with raw terror and unwanted pleasure, her lips stretched widely around a large red ball gag wedged in her mouth. Heavy, slutty makeup—bold eyeliner, crimson lipstick smeared haphazardly—clashed with Melanie’s usual understated style. The word “DOLL” scrawled in red lipstick across her forehead sent a pang of horrified anguish through Beth’s chest.

A man in a white ski mask, clad entirely in dark clothing, stepped into view, his gloved hands roaming over Melanie’s bare breasts, squeezing them with deliberate cruelty as she grunted in distress, her muffled protests vibrating against the gag. After setting the wand on a higher vibration level, he sat in the chair beside his captive, his masked face turning to the camera with chilling confidence, Melanie’s unwanted moans muffled alongside him. “Hello, Bethany Shaw,” he said, his voice smooth with a menacing southern drawl, the use of her real full name a taunting stab at his discovery of Beth’s true identity. “It’s nice to be face to face again, even if it’s through a screen this time.”

Beth’s fingers dug into the mattress, her heart skipping a beat as the Toymaker’s hands continued to reach over and play with Melanie’s tied breasts, eliciting another muffled grunt of unwanted ecstasy. “I’ve had fun playing with you, and your friend here,” he said, his voice laced with a twisted amusement that made the blonde’s skin crawl. “But I want to see the real Beth, what’s really ticking behind that sexy bimbo body of yours.”

The Toymaker leaned closer to the camera, his masked eyes seeming to bore into Beth’s soul. “I’ve enjoyed many beautiful women in my time,” he said, his tone dropping to a predatory purr as he pinched Melanie’s nipple. “But you’re unique, Bethany, resourceful, determined, always doing whatever it takes to get the job done. I mean, look at what you’ve done to your body, all of it just to find me.”

Beth shuddered, her big blue eyes locked on the screen as Melanie’s helplessly bound form trembled, her moans tearing at the blonde’s heart. The man’s tone hardened, his hand resting possessively on Melanie’s knee. “You have a choice now, and you’d better think long and hard before you make a decision,” he said menacingly. “Inside one of those parcels is a letter with instructions and an address. You must fulfill every request, use every item in that box I’ve carefully picked out for you, and meet me on the rooftop of that address tomorrow evening.”

The killer leaned back, his masked face tilting as he gestured to Melanie, her naked body straining against the tight ropes, the vibrator drawing another stifled cry. “Officer Sachs and I will be waiting,” he said, his voice dropping with juvenile cruelty. “If you don’t show up, this one here will suffer the same fate as the others. She’s not my usual type, but I think she’ll look pretty boxed up like a perfect doll.” Melanie’s urgent groans echoed, her eyes pleading through the screen, and Beth’s fingers clenched the mattress, desperate to help her friend.

The Toymaker’s voice softened, a mocking sincerity in his tone. “But if you show, you’ll trade places with her, and she walks free,” he said, his gloved hand stroking Melanie’s cheek, eliciting a shudder. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of ending your life. You’re way too special for that, and I have other plans.”

The man’s voice sent another shiver down Beth’s spine as he continued. “I look forward to seeing how brave you really are, Bethany.” Each use of her real name sparked a fury inside the undercover, busty cop.

The Toymaker reached to stop the recording, before pausing, his ski mask tilting slightly as if he was lost in thought. “Actually, now that I think about it, you’re a little too smart for your own good,” he said, a wicked edge to his masked voice. The man reached behind him, picking up an old-style Walkman from the bed, its tape spinning as he pressed play. Suddenly, Warren Skinner’s voice crackled through, disjointed but unmistakable, saying, “Bambi is a dumb bimbo.” Beth’s mind jolted as she gasped in horror, knowing her articulate words were about to snap back to the sugary valley-girl dialect she despised, her conditioning locking in once more.

The Toymaker’s masked face twisted into a grin. “That should take care of that,” he said with satisfaction. “I can’t wait to meet you, Bethany.” The screen cut to black, leaving Beth trembling on the bed.

“Like, what do I do?” she asked herself as she placed her head in her hands. She had an impossible decision to make, one that would decide the fate of not only her, but also her most trusted friend. She couldn’t just sacrifice herself, could she? However, that may be the only option to save Melanie’s life. With an exhausted sigh, the blonde lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as she contemplated her next move, a move that she may regret for the rest of her life.

End of Chapter Nine.