He wanted to say how grateful he was – express some kind of heartfelt thanks. Instead he watched the hypnotic glow of the coals, cradling Magenta in his arms, feeling his eyelids falling even as he heard the tea being poured. Even Angela wheeling him into the annex at the back of the house and gently helping him onto the bed did little more than add to the changing pattern of his dreams.
"What the hell do you mean, he's discharged himself? Where's he gone? Or didn't you have the brain to find out?" Johnson roared down the phone. At the far end of the line his appointments secretary made noises of apology. She had only rung the hospital to confirm the visiting times and make sure Mr Johnson's car would be there on time. Johnson stubbed out his early morning cigar in the ashtray on his desk.
His secretary was a tiny pale mouse of a woman, who he had often considered introducing to the delights of Deuvar. She was one of life's natural submissives. Now, as she twittered on about making enquiries and apologising with every other word, he longed to call her into his office and rip that stupid frilly blouse she wore for work off her narrow pallid back, together with the navy suit that she thought gave her an air of efficiency. He'd bend her over his desk and take his belt to her thin insipid body, making her scream out for mercy – and then, when she lay sobbing, he'd bugger her there amongst the trophies of his success. The fantasy brought a smile to his face.
"Ring me when you have something concrete. I need to know where this man Roberts has gone -" He spoke grimly and hung up.
He needed to know what Roberts knew about Peter Howard. After all, he reasoned, as he took another Havana cigar from the box, they flew together, surely they must have talked about something. All he needed was some hint, some clue, however obscure, as to what Howard had done with Magenta. A lot of people – important people – were waiting to find out what had happened to it. Although there had been no overt threats as yet, Johnson knew that without Magenta or unless he could assure his 'friends' that it had been destroyed, his life wouldn't be worth the cigar that he was presently rolling between his fingers.
Max Fielding had spent the night at Deuvar and joined Leonora in her private office after breakfast. Close circuit television cameras were installed in every one the mansion's numerous rooms. A set of screens were arranged along one wall of a small room behind Leonora's office. It was with some interest that Leonora and Max watched the goings-on in the bathroom that adjoined the landing of cell 27.
Leonora had ordered the insertion of the little dildo; Emily needed to be stretched. The incident with the guard and Kai were an added bonus. Leonora watched the womens' progress down the corridor, eyes moving from one screen to another as they got closer to her office. Kai was one of her most trusted girls.
Leonora heard the knock on her door at the same time as she saw it on the screen on the wall. She smiled and pulled her kimono belt tight, glancing at Max before going to let the girls in. Against the background of the oak panelled office Kai looked magnificent in her leather Basque, leading the wary new girl. Emily's walk was ungainly, announcing the presence of the slim insert in her backside.
Leonora nodded to Kai and took the short leash herself, jerking it tight so that Emily stumbled forward. She fell face down unable to save herself because of the restraints high up on her arms. Leonora pulled the leash tight so that she was held on her knees, her head resting against Leonora's thighs. The guards had made a good job of her hair, clipping it back so that it was no more than half an inch long all over her skull.
The girl was still now, straining to hear what was going on in the room.
"What is the first rule I taught you, Emily?" Leonora said in a low voice. Emily stiffened but said nothing. Leonora jerked the lead again, snapping the head back. "Well? I'm waiting."
The girl was shivering, her breaths coming in tight, unhappy gasps. "Don't speak unless you're spoken to," she whispered after a few more seconds.
"That's correct." said Leonora coolly. "A rule I think that you've recently broken while you were with Kai on the landing. Am I right?"
Emily nodded. Leonora ran a perfectly manicured finger over Emily's lips. "Once upon a time we used to cut out the tongues of girls who refused to obey the rule of silence. Some of our clients still prefer it -"
Emily whimpered; a light beading of sweat rising on her top lip. Leonora smiled. The right balance of fear and reward and punishment was essential if a girl was to be suitable for a place at Deuvar. Emily's nipples looked wonderful; the tremble of fear making the little rings glitter in the lamp-light. Leonora undid the restraints at the top of the girl's arms and fixed her wrist cuffs to the side of her collar – this effectively pinned her hands while exposing her back. There was no resistance.
Max Fielding watched from the doorway in amused silence. He was used to such spectacles. Kai stood demurely by the hearth, eyes downcast, while Emily, shivering, terrified, waited for whatever was to follow in uneasy silence.
Leonora circled her thoughtfully. She would offer the virgin goods on sale by fax as soon as she had metered out Emily's punishment. Johnson wanted Emily working and at the beck and call of the clients as soon a possible. A shame really. With the right training she could be a superb body slave.
Leonora took a short flexible whip from the rack on the wall. It was one of her favourites. Made by an old fashioned saddler to her own specifications, the end was split into fine leather fronds. It was designed to inflict pain without damaging the flesh. Leonora ran her fingers through the split end pieces. The leather was so soft that it almost tickled. She turned it thoughtfully in her fingers, judging the weight before laying it at full tilt across the girl's exposed back.
Emily screamed and instinctively hunched, throwing herself forward. Leonora wasn't put off; with deadly accuracy she struck again, lifting a second red weal across the girl's spine. Emily sobbed, trying to roll out from under the whip's scorching kiss. As she moved she exposed her newly pierced breasts. The whip's hot tongue exploded across their peaks, wrenching a gut curdling scream from the writhing creature.
Leonora glanced at Max. His eyes were bright with expectation. Kai was still looking down but her rapid breathing announced her own excitement. Emily began to try and crawl away – the whip exploded again across her back.
"What is the first rule?" said Leonora coldly.
Emily's answer was a miserable sob.
The whip cracked again. "What is the first rule? Answer me or I will give you a dozen more strokes."
Emily froze. "Silence," she whimpered, the word barely coherent through her sobs.
"Good," said Leonora, placing the whip back in the rack. "Kai will arrange for you to eat and then take you into the main hall to begin work." She paused. "Don't forget, Emily – silence. Think of being at Deuvar as joining a convent. We demand total obedience, the only thing we don't expect is chastity." Leonora allowed herself a smile.
Chapter 5
While Emily Lawrence, sobbing and terrified, was led away by Kai to eat and begin her first full day at Deuvar, and Johnson tried to trace the mysterious disappearing patient, Peter Howard slept like a baby. When he woke in the middle of the afternoon he found that Angela had left a phone on the bedside table, together with a stack of directories, pens, and a note pad. He grinned and tapped in the first number that came into his head.