Yet she began slowly to tremble as she sat thus by his side and listened to comments which appeared to be all strictly business in their nature. She was furious with herself for not being able to emulate his own composure. She almost did deserve, she told herself disgustedly, to become what he had made of her yesterday-the chattel he had taken and used and abused at will.
She was aware that she was flushing-and then suddenly he was speaking of things which no self respecting woman should hear-or countenance.
“By the way,” he said casually, “I understand that girls of the most select families are prone to take roguish pictures of each other in the dressing rooms of such an establishment as yours?”
“Sometimes they give the favoured dressmaker herself some of the photos, I am told. Have you any such pictures — especially of the girls whose names are included in this packet of unpaid bills?”
“Well-really-Mr. Freeman!” said Rose… trying to show surprised indignation. And then she burst into the nervous admonitions she had planned.
“I… I must tell you,” she said feverishly, “that I now realize what a terrible mistake we committed yesterday- I blame myself as much or more than I blame you-we must start afresh.”
It was as if she had not spoken-unless the queer gleam in his eyes signified a certain anticipatory pleasure at the frail obstacle offered by her newly imposed dignity.
“You will speak when addressed. Rose,” he said. “We shall return to this matter later. For the present I am asking you to tell me whether you have any such photographs as I have just indicated?”
She gasped faintly. She was shivering-unable to pursue a discussion which now seemed like unbelievable temerity on her part. He glanced at her enquiringly.
“I… I think-” she stammered weakly, “that I have just a few-locked in a drawer-and not to be seen, of course, by any men-even if they are relatives of the girls who gave them to me!”
“Ah… yes,” he replied, almost indifferently. “Remind me to look at them before I leave. Just now I must put down certain data on the sheet of paper. Give me an old fashioned pen and ink, please-I prefer them to fountain pens…”
Rose complied hastily with his request. She was in a panic still, she needed more time, she thought, to prepare for such an ordeal as this interview with him.
He had dipped the pen profusely — and was looking about-apparently for a place to shake the nib before writing. She indicated the new sheet of blotting paper on the desk in front of him. But he shook his bead.
“Too clean,” he said. “I will not soil a clean blotter that cannot be washed, when there are other things available that can easily be cleansed. Lay bare your bosom. Rose, and I shall select a spot.”
Scarlet and panting, the woman raised both hands to her breast in a gesture of protection. She gazed at him- wide eyed-incapable of speech.
“This very instant!” he said emphatically. “You have no idea what will happen to you if you keep me waiting even a few seconds longer!”
She moaned feebly-her dark eyes suffused and swimming with tears. Her look of pleading-of horror-fell away before his fixed glance.
“In ten seconds,” he said calmly, as he took out his watch, “your breasts must be naked under my eyes!”
The words were odious enough-but it was the threat underlying them that shattered her resistance. Her slim fingers wrested open her corsage with feverish rapidity, and pushed her lacy chemise downward over her full and lovely breasts.
“You did it in nine seconds flat,” he said approvingly as he put his watch away. “You must be trained to such promptitude. Now then — bare yourself further — for I think I will not stain either of these lovely mounds- whose nipples betray a certain rising emotion which I cannot approve. Press your clothing down to the waist- I will blot this upon the skin beneath your left breast — just above the heart!”
Cynically he spattered the ink upon her snowy skin. She shrank back and murmured in shame-and in real distress too, as from the irregular splash some drops began to trickle further downward on her naked body.
Rose regarded them in dire dismay-drawing the silk and lace of her chemise further away from the stain-not daring to rub it off without his permission. He bent over and took out his own handkerchief-with which he removed the traces of ink and much of the stain.
“Rub this handkerchief on your bare bottom at once. Rose,” he said, handing it to her. “I wish to find the stain on there when next I have occasion to strip or spank you. Make haste, we have much to do today.”
She staggered to her feet. And she underwent the humiliation of thrusting the stained cambric beneath her dress in the rear-of putting aside the light fabric which covered her snowy rump-and of rubbing each buttock with the rapidly drying ink.
“I am sure it will please my eyes-like beauty spots,” he remarked, as he cast the used handkerchief into the waste basket. “This bluish stain beneath your breast,” he added, as he took the soft and lovely mound in his hand, “may leave traces for a day or two. But I rather relish such a blemish on your immaculate body.”
“Now, Mrs. Bolton,” he said, “are you going to let me see any further sign of revolt-or will you instantly obey any orders which I may give?”
The use of her married name instead of the familiar “Rose” enhanced her dismay and confusion. “I… I have not-disobeyed-” she stammered, looking affrightedly up at him. Was this the man to whom, only yesterday, she had inwardly vowed a torrential and enduring affection which her very shame had seemed to enhance?
“I want a reply-not an argument,” he said. “And I may tell you that if there are any further signs of disobedience I have it in mind to telephone one of your feminine debtors and her husband. And you will receive them stark naked- and be punished before their eyes for having allowed the young woman to run up such a bill. You may be quite certain that the man at least will highly approve of that.'”
“Ohh…m-my God. You wouldn't-d-do that?” gasped Rose in utter dismay.
“Don't tell me what I, would or wouldn't do,” he said sternly, reaching a hand towards the desk phone.
“Ohh-no… no-don't! I will always-m-mind you… I will indeed!” cried Rose feverishly. Her teeth were chattering in her head-but she was yet aware of the inner thrill and throbbing of her intimate tissues.
“If you ever forget that pledge for an instant,” he said softly, “rest assured that I shall know how to act! Now raise your chemise-the ink is too dry now to stain that pretty garment. Then rearrange your clothing-and make a few notes of my decisions.”
“I observe that a Mrs. Tasker is indebted to you in the sum of over three thousand dollars-a quite ridiculous amount, considering the financial circumstances of her clergyman husband. And much of this seems to have been incurred on behalf of her minor daughter, Louise. This charming blonde and her ever blonder daughter are entirely miscast as the members of a clerical household- it seems to me!”
“Yet perhaps they stand in awe of the Rev. Dr. Tasker himself-if he is aroused. They are pleasure loving-and they appear even fonder of expensive attire than of social frivolities. How came you, Rose, to permit this pair to run up such an impossible bill?”
“I–I'm sorry… very sorry,” stammered the 'mistress' of the business meekly.
“Don't worry,” he observed grimly-as he regarded her distressed and blushing countenance. “They may yet be worth an ample three thousand dollars to-well, if not to you directly, at least to you through other channels. Is it possible that you have the photograph of either of these beauties en deshabille-in that locked drawer you-er- spoke of?”
“Why,” murmured Rose nervously, “it happened that Louise was here one day without her mother-a party of her schoolgirl friends-friends of wealthy families with the exception of herself…”