"I part from you with sorrow." My nostrils flared. I tensed.
"A man cannot cope with such love as exists between thee and our esteemed Miss Harding. I could subdue her with the whip, of course, but it would be to divert the waters of a stream. You both might wither from the diversion of that I will not judge."
"Master, I love thee."
"As a father, child. And I you as the daughter I did not have." The Sheik Inman Azzam lifted his slave girl to her feet and unlocked my handcuffs. I clung to him in a passion of memories of his love. We exchanged words and blessings I will not repeat. I was bereaved. I stood at the big window for an hour and watched them go. Several cars and a van. The small airport was no great distance from Glynt. I knew that Yola's servants would be busy about the Castle, but I was alone in a strange free loneliness such as I had never known. On the table my handcuffs gleamed. I would never part from them. In my hand were keys, some were large. They had been clasped there by Azzam as a last gift with the slip of paper that told a Bank to pay me One Million Pounds Sterling. It was a familiar path I trod, avoiding the staff. I could traverse the steps and passages of Glynt to the dungeon with my eyes closed. I used the largest of the keys in its door.
"No handcuffs, Phemie!" My darling was loaded with chains, their metal bands clasped her everywhere. She was thrice fastened to the stone by heavy links. Crouching in the corner like a lovely prisoned animal, she looked up at me in wide-eyed question. Her nudity was vividly striped.
"No Mistress, no handcuffs." Her voice was bitter. "Better drop the Mistress, Phemie. Can't you see?" She held up fettered hands. "I'm a slave. I'm not your Mistress anymore. We both have a Master." She was so beautiful! So utterly desirable! My heart thumped and all the days of travail passed into limbo. My Yola! Briefly I told her all there was to tell. She listened quietly as though none of it mattered. When the words were done I showed her Azzam's cheque.
"You're rich, Phemie. Richer than I was. Will you keep me as your slave? I'm half trained." I kissed her forehead, then used the keys. When the last shackle fell metallically to the stone I helped her stand. I placed the keys, the cheque and my handcuffs in her hands, then knelt at her feet, head bowed.
"Mistress!" The silence seethed. Neither of us moved. "One hundred lashes, Phemie. And this dungeon." The voice was my beloved's.
"Of course, Mistress. I was bad."
"Why not keep me as a slave, Phemie. Wouldn't that be the obvious thing to do. You could, y'know. I'm tired. I won't fight."
"You know why, Mistress: I am the slave."
"I shall punish you terribly, darling"
"I wish it, Mistress. The fault of all that happened was mine."
"If you allow me to chain you, Phemie, you will never again be free."
"I am your slave girl, Mistress. What need have I of freedom?"
"You know what to do." Yolanda's voice had become vibrant with life. I rose, turned and offered my wrists. The handcuffs clinked. I was enfolded in ecstatic arms, my lips found hers in joy. For a long time we loved and found happiness in each other.
"You will stay in the dungeon, Phemie."
"Of course, Mistress."
"Tomorrow you will be whipped. Fifty strokes."
"Thank you, darling." Her hand sought my puss, then wiped its wetness on my thigh.
"You are quite incurable, Euphemia."
"I'm so glad, darling, aren't you!"
"You will then stay in the dungeon two more days and at the end receive your second fifty. You will also wear those chains I've been keeping warm for you. But today just the handcuffs — there's something about you handcuffed…"
"Keep me handcuffed always, Mistress. I'm afraid I like it." Yola sighed happily and tightened each cuff a single notch.
"You are an impudent puss." As I told you at the start, there's no explaining me.