Jimmy Loong
17th July 2018
Nation in Distress
Information as reported.
Jack the Ripper was the unresolved case with many murder cases
attributed to it but only five was linked directly to it. The five cases were
named the canonical cases. The murderer was never convicted and for many years
there were many copycats but none was more thrilling than the earlier ones.
The tale continues on.
It was the early days of the Holmes exploits.
And into the heydays of Victorian age, with the vile happenings
then when the British Empire was at its peak.
This is a tale of Doctor James Moriarty.
This is not a tale for the young. It contains explicit sexual antics.
1.
The uniformed officer swung his truncheon as if he was marching
in the band. It was the hours between midnight and dawn. The hours when the
dark demons will surface from the cavities of the earth to harass the living
beings who are still not in bed. Or in more decent expression; asleep and not
fretting on the acts of cohabitation. The officer saw the ladies of the night
are either packing the last customers off, or retiring themselves to a slumber
with whatever they could earned that night. He was amused for despite the
previous incidences of murders, these hardworking ladies are still soliciting
the streets into the late night. He was there when it happened. He was not the
first to arrive but he did after clearing three blocks with his youthful legs
that night. He had a hefty sandwich of meat with slabs of dressings. It did not
stay in his body when he sighted the victim then. She was killed in the most
heinous manner. He threw up at the start of the alley, and was reprimanded for
contaminating the crime scene. The detectives were particular as they were told
to collect evidence from the scene to trace the killer or killers. It was later
named forensic but on that event of the night it was just police works. It was
the start of a series of murders then attributed to Jack the Ripper. There were
other murders and initially it was blamed on the Ripper but soon the rumours
subsided.
“Hello, Maisie. You are early today.” The officer nodded to the
approaching lady dressed in the simple tunic and the tight corset on the chest,
and her hair do was a mess. She was wobbling not from the hammerings of the
loins but the drinks she took to wash her mouth had been more than a few gulps.
“Aye, my dear Bobby. I had done my share and my pocket full.
Can’t deny so is my womb and arse. The ships landed early and the sailors were
randy.” Maisie steadied herself on the walk when she passed the officer. “Take
a corner to warm up, officer. I would help you but I am all sloshed inside.”
With that gentle refusal, the lady named Maisie Duncan took her
walk towards her lodging for the night. She will do that at the Richmond’s
place; a tardy place but it held a warm bath which she felt needed then. She
plodded on and nodded to a few others who were still looking for the elusive
last customer. She passed the small park on her way and weighed her options. One
was going around it and be jolly safe or take the park and be in the soothing
warm water. That was one time she won’t mind splitting her legs wide.
Maisie made her decision and walked on. She will be safe
tonight.
She thought it was then.
A tall gentleman cut her off on her journey. He was tall for he
looked down at her from his higher height. He was dressed in a dark blue
overcoat and held a walking stick. He offered her the usual fare.
“I don’t think I am keen, sir. I am pretty….” Maisie picked her
words then. “Tired. I had a full day works at the match sticks factory.”
“I am in need. I will double the amount. We can do it hitched up
the tree or the park bench.”
One thing Maisie was poor at was wealth. She nodded and dragged
the gentleman into the park. After all, even at her line of works, she felt
some decency was needed. She led him to the park bench and then leaned over the
bench.
“I am ready for you.” It was an invite and there were still room
for more inside. She pulled at her dress on the rear and heaved it over her
back.
“Don’t mind the drawers. I have new ones tomorrow.” Maisie
smiled. She felt the hands on her rump and then the rustling of the coat. She
braced herself for the first onslaught and felt the hands had moved to her
upper back. She knew that move was to knead her breasts. She had them done many
times, and even flayed with the whip. Anything goes for her for long they pay
her well. Her milk had seen dried from the overfeeding of the brats she had at
home. They won’t go hungry that night. She loosened her corset and then held
her balance on the park bench. The thrust came but it was not in her offerings.
It was a sharp blade that sliced her throat from ear to ear. She would had
screamed but the blade moved in for the cut on the veins there severing her
vocal hail. She tried to escape but her body was trapped by the gentleman with
her sandwiched to the bench. She tried to move and felt the blade moved from
her neck to the cleavage and then it sliced downwards on the right side exposing
her ribs. She then felt the blade moved across her navel and down to her groin.
By then she was dying and soon death overcome her when the blade sliced down to
her sweetest offering.
It took an hour before Maisie was discovered but by then she was
dead with her body sliced open and the innards removed to be place next to her
body as if she was examined forensically. There was a blade left on the
forehead with a note.
“I am back ripping. Jack.”
The news of the murder soon spread but the authorities down
played the papers by withholding the message and the killer’s blade. However,
the chambers in Scotland Yard resonated with the thunderous ramblings of the
Police Commissioners rippling to the Senior Inspectors and then the lowly
Inspectors to the Section Sergeants gets truncheon tucked into their butts.
“I don’t care if the Queen says we are a bunch of listless souls
but the papers shall not be blasted with my face. I have to read it daily to my
ailing mum, and she could still make out my name in the prints.” The
Commissioner had his expression that resembled the bull walrus; it does have
the resemblance which was uncanny then.
“So, hear me out. We will get the bastard who is calling himself
Jack or be damned I will rip those ranks off your shoulders.” The senior
officers with an average of fifteen years dragged their feet out of the meeting
chamber. Their desire then was to trample another junior officer or heaved the
skirt off the barmaid or whichever was unfortunate to be there. All of them had
the same desire except one officer who sneaked off at the back.
His name was Senior Inspector Sam Weston; his mother was from
Ireland while his father was a Texas rancher but he was raised in Glasgow by
his grandmother on the mother side. He learned that his name was the talk of
the village from young to adulthood. He did spend his winter at Texas but other
times he was in Glasgow. He was a hit with the ladies from Texas to Glasgow
with his accent and surprising dashing wild look. He was also a rising star
among the Inspectors with his astounding crime solving rate. Unknown to them
all, he had help from outside.
“Doctor Moriarty, I thought you will want to know of the …”
“The White Chapel murder last night? I am well aware of it.”
Doctor James Moriarty, then a fine cutting figure with the rounded spectacles
perched on his nose bridge looked at the Inspector. The doctor was dressed in
tweeds with the academic frock over his shoulders. He was about to leave his
study chamber for his classes when the Inspector sought his attendance.
“I am not the killer if you assumed me of that. I am a
mathematician and not a surgeon.” Doctor Moriarty then pushed his way out. “See
me at the usual place tonight, Sam.”
Across the city of London into the countryside of a huge
mansion, a gathering of gentlemen was in progress. It was held in the dungeons
for it won’t be held as favourable by the neighbours if they were to view it.
And the noise from the gathering edged between the battle cries to the howling
of the dying preys when fed by the predators.
Such was the life then in the revelled lifestyle of the secret
gatherings.
“Hold the wench. I am missing my aim.” The elderly gentleman was
without his clothes below the waist was trying to induce the lady into the act
named the tradesman entry. He could hardly stand on his own elderly legs while
his hands were holding onto the lady from the rear on her hips. The lady was
manacled to the cuffs that was part of the series of the restraints in the
dungeon.
“I say, Lord Blackwell. Your cannon barrel needs more
gunpowder.” The figure standing to the elderly Lord was himself wearing a Roman
Legionnaire but he had lost his skirt and his sword was tucked in the back
instead of the sword sheath. He was younger and was having his own barrel awash
by the lady kneeling there dressed in the feather plumes that made her look
like the peacock, and not drawing on the pea for a cock. The two gentlemen were
part of the group dressed in the costumes or deprived of one, with their equal
numbers of serving partners of both sexes.
“Can’t understand the Blackley to take on the obedient stay?”
Lord Blackwell had given up on his lesson of the tradesman then turned to have
his barrel moistened for the next act but his eyes averted towards the two
other gentlemen on their knees lapping at the two lady’s fanny. The men were
covered in the leather straps leaving little to be uncovered.
“I….” The gong was sounded and the dungeon was once again
silent. The participating partners then withdrew with the restraints removed
and the chamber soon was devoid of them except the invited guests. The line-up
of the guests stood there where their last act was done, in their natural glory
or in some instances the deflated ego.
“The Master of Ceremony will like to bring forth your attention
to the latest exploits.” The figure dressed like a butler held the silver plate
before him. He was dressed impeccably with the tuxedo suit and white gloves.
“Jack has done it once more. Hail the Ripper! Hail the killings that shall take
place once more.”
“Hail the Ripper!” The call went out.
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