The guard thrust forward, leering at Emily, his fingers playing with her peaked nipples. He set a furious pace, matched now by Kai's hot wet tongue.
Emily thought she might faint as the flurries and waves of pleasure grew and grew with each new sensation. The stunning crystal waves seemed to come closer and closer together until suddenly her mind was filled with a brilliant white light and a pleasure of such intensity that she could barely breath.
The guard gave one tremendous final thrust and then fell sated across Kai's leather clad back. All Emily could feel now was the roaring glow of satisfaction deep in her belly and the soft breaths of Kai on her thighs. Slowly the guard pulled away, pressing his wet flaccid cock back into his trousers. He looked at the women, crouched on the floor for his pleasure, with total disdain.
Kai pulled herself upright and looked down at Emily. "I'll take you to see Leonora now – and then you will eat. No mask, but you'll have to be blindfolded." Her voice sounded remarkably normal, whereas Emily was trembling so much that she didn't think she would be able to stand.
Kai unlocked her hands from the couch and helped her to her feet. She signalled to the guard who took a long silk handkerchief from his pocket and covered her eyes.
He leant forward as he tied the knot tight. He was so close that Emily could feel his breath on her skin, "Keep an eye out for me. Don't forget, I'm going to be the first," he murmured threateningly. As he spoke he slipped his hand between her buttocks and pressed on the strap that held the dildo in place.
Kai sighed theatrically. "Let me take her, pass me the leash."
Emily heard the guard leave and then felt the gentle tug as Kai directed her to move. This time the leash was far shorter so that as they moved forward she felt Kai's knuckles brushing against her shoulders. Finally she could stay silent no longer. "How can you let him treat you like that? Are you a prisoner here?"
Kai's reply was a short barking laugh. "A prisoner? Don't be ridiculous. I signed a contract. We all have."
Emily nodded miserably, thinking about standing at the desk in Roderick Banyon's office with her hand poised over the contract that had brought her to Deuvar. "So the contract is genuine then?"
"Yes, of course, we all sign up for a year at a time. I came over here on the recommendation of my sister."
Emily was stunned. "You chose to come here?" she said incredulously.
Kai snorted. "It offered a better life than the one in my village. Another year, maybe two, and I'll leave. Most girls stay five or six years. When we decide to leave, Leonora arranges for us to have suitable papers, money -" she paused. "And freedom to do what we like. Some of the girls choose to go with their masters, but it isn't compulsory. You should have read the contract."
Emily shivered. "But the way they treat you? That guard? It was awful."
Kai laughed. "The clients who come to Deuvar are connoisseurs; they understand the electric combination of pleasure and pain."
"And the guards?"
Kai tugged her lead so that Emily followed her around a corner. "It's in your best interests to keep them sweet. They have the power to control who goes where, who can get in to see us and who can't. Don't ever underestimate the advantages of doing what they want."
A porter pushed Peter Howard to the front foyer of the hospital. Outside, beyond the plate glass doors, the new morning was grey and unpromising. It reflected the way he felt almost perfectly. A male staff nurse had managed to find him a bizarre assortment of second-hand clothes from the charity box – but no socks.
The staff had barely commented on his request to discharge himself, too exhausted from the night shift to have much fight left in them. Sister Ruskin and an overworked young houseman from Accident and Emergency had signed his discharge forms in the office with hardly a second glance – and so now Peter was waiting alone in reception for a fictitious taxi that had been booked to take him for two weeks of rest and recuperation.
On his lap, Peter cradled Magenta, carefully re-wrapped in polythene in his hold-all and the thick white envelope that some-how had managed to offer him a way out of his predicament. He grinned, wondering what Johnson would say if he knew that it had been Deuvar that had been Peter's ticket out of oblivion.
Staff meandered around the foyer waiting for the change of shift. Finally, Angela appeared through the noisy throng, pale and heavy eyed, swathed in a full length navy cape. She lifted a hand in greeting. "Well, don't you look quite the bon viveur?" she snorted, glancing down at his charity shop outfit.
He lifted an eyebrow and waved the white envelope in her direction. "Appearances can be very deceptive," he said with good humour. "Can we get out of this bloody place now?"
Angela nodded and took hold of the wheelchair. "No problem. I've got my car parked just outside. Another half an hour and we'll be sipping tea in front of a roaring fire."
Peter grinned. "I'd prefer you naked for that," he said.
Angela poked him playfully. "If I don't get home soon I'll be asleep before we get to that part. Come on -"
Outside, the change in temperature hit Peter like a body blow. He winced as the wind cut through his charity-box coat and made a bee-line for his aching ribs. He hunched miserably and let Angela guide him toward her large, if somewhat ancient, estate car.
"Nice car," he gasped, as she manhandled him into the front seat. He was stunned that his legs refused to bear his weight or obey his commands. By the time he fastened his safety belt he was shaking from the effort and bathed in sweat.
Angela let herself into the other side after stowing the wheelchair in the boot. "It was my father's. He died a couple of years ago, it was his absolute pride and joy. He'd be horrified that I don't polish it lovingly after every trip."
Peter watched the countryside unravel as they made their way out from a small town through into rolling wooded hills. It struck him that he didn't actually know where he was.
Angela caught his eye. "Are you enjoying the scenery?" she purred.
He nodded dumbly. "Yes. Where are we?"
Angela snorted. "Kent."
When he glanced down he saw that she had pulled her skirt back over her thighs. The scenery was indeed quite scintillating. He regretted missing her clue. He could just make out a wisp or two of coppery hair, glinting in the watery sunlight.
"So, is this what they call the garden of England?" he said, letting his eyes linger on the top of her thighs as she wriggled lower to expose the plump ripe prize that lay beneath her uniform.
"No, actually we're just outside Anchorbridge," she laughed.
Peter nodded and grinned a reply. The motion of the car was slowly lulling him to sleep. Angela's words barely registered as he closed his eyes.
When he opened them again with a start, he was completely disorientated. Ahead of him, set amongst a profusion of greenery, was a large cottage, rendered cream – a comforting rural image against a slate grey autumn sky. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember exactly what was going on. Things fell into place slowly as he turned to look at Angela, her nursing uniform now demurely re-arranged to cover her plump thighs.
He stretched. "Sorry," he murmured. "I must have fallen asleep. I really need to use a phone."
The sister snorted. "You really need to go to bed and so do I."
Peter pulled a rueful face.
Angela giggled. "To go to sleep, you fool. I'll get the wheelchair out of the boot. You won't have to worry about stairs. We had a ground floor conversion done – Dad had problems before he died. You'll have your own little self-contained fiefdom – and yes, there is a phone."
Inside, Angela's cottage was as inviting as its exterior. Wheeling Peter up a ramp she opened large French windows into an open sitting area – from the ease of access it was obvious it wasn't the first time a wheel chair had been used to transport its occupants around the place. Beyond the comfortable sitting-room was a huge farm-house style kitchen. Angela kicked off her shoes, plugged in the kettle, and stoked an ageing stove into life. Within seconds the room was filled with a soft warm glow. She wheeled Peter up to the hearth to take advantage of the heat and made them tea.