The sight of so many different rubber things in her employer's wardrobe took her breath away. She took them out, one by one, and held them against her, letting her hand slide over the cool, silky material. It was when she took the pyjamas in her hands, light flimsy things of pale-blue rubberised silk, and realised that these at least must necessarily be worn by her employer over naked skin, that the blood went to her head and she sat dizzily on the side of the bed, her heart pounding furiously. She let herself fall slowly on her back, and pulled the garments up to her face. She breathed in the sweet, heady mixture of rubber and perfume. Her loins tingled with sexual longing.
She lay for a few moments and then stood up. She took off all her clothes. She slipped quickly into the pyjamas, shivering with pleasure as the material enveloped her. She stepped to a long mirror and regarded herself. She looked down quickly at the front of the pyjamas and frowned in puzzlement. The material was covered with many dark spots. She put a finger to one of them and scratched. It came away in a sort of dust. She shrugged her shoulders. Her employer had obviously been careless and had spilt something. The important thing now was the discovery that a very lovely woman seemed to have the same fetish as she. There was nothing she could do about it, of course; it was out of the question for her to speak of it. But it did not matter. The knowledge itself was enough. It would be very exciting, in future, working for her employer, picturing her in all these garments.
She stood for some moments more, and then, fearful lest the maids should return and find her, she took off the pyjamas, replaced them and the other things in the wardrobe, dressed herself, and left.
Tonight, she thought, as she got out of the lift, there would be no hurry. She could take off her clothes and put on all the exciting garments, slowly, one after the other, and take all the time she wanted.
She let herself into the flat and closed the door behind her. She was surprised to find lights burning. She heard a swishing sound, and something like a human groan, from the direction of the bedroom. She paused for a second, surprised, and then walked quickly into the living-room.
She was brought to an abrupt halt by the sight of a cruel- looking whip lying curled on a newspaper on the floor. Then she saw the other instruments on the divan.
"Gott in Himmel!" she breathed. "What's going on here?"
As the sound came again from the bedroom, followed by another groan, she realised that it was the swish of some sort of whip. For a moment her impulse was to turn and run, but curiosity got the better of her. She walked on tip-toe to the open bedroom door.
Her astonishment was so great, as she took in the scene, that she could scarcely breathe. She stood at the door and watched her employer, naked under a long black rubber cape, flogging someone who was hanging from a hook in a door. His back was covered with blood and he groaned piteously as each lash struck him.
A part of her mind told her to go-to go at once, quietly and quickly. But she stood there watching, unable to move.
And at that moment her employer turned her head and saw her standing in the doorway. Her whalebone birch stayed motionless above her head for a full three seconds. Then she let it fall to her side. "What are you doing here, Erika?" she said coldly.
Erika swallowed some saliva and stammered: "I brought some papers, Fraulein Reitter. I-I'm sorry. I thought you left for Paris this afternoon."
Marlene Reitter stared at her for several moments. Then she laughed. "Yes, of course you did. I changed my mind at the last moment." She paused and laughed again. "It's not your fault, but it's rather unfortunate that you should have come here now. I think we had better sit down and have a drink-and a talk."
Erika nodded her head quickly. "Of course, Fraulein Reitter. Anything you say." She glanced again at the man who hung from the hook. Her eyes slowly widened. "But that's- isn't that Carl Gunther from the design department?"
"It is," said Marlene. "And I think I'd better let him go home now. We shall have to have our talk. Unless"-her eyes twinkled a little-"you're a sadist, too. You wouldn't like to give him a bit of a whipping yourself?"
Erika caught her breath sharply. "There's nothing I'd like better," she said quickly.
Her employer raised her eyes. "You are a sadist, then?"
"No, I don't think so," said Erika. "I don't really know. I only know I'd like to give Carl Gunther a few strokes with that whip."
"I have a score to settle with him."
Marlene held out the birch. "Go ahead. You'll tell me about it later."
Erika took it in her right hand and gazed in fascination at its blood-drenched ends. She walked across the room to the man. "Do you know who is going to whip you now, Carl? Why don't you turn your head and look?"
He twisted his neck with difficulty and glanced at her. She saw the surprise in his eyes.
"Yes," she said. "Erika Kostler in person. With a lovely whip in her hands. You can easily understand, can't you, why she's going to whip you?" She raised the birch quickly and swung it across his back. A savage thrill coursed through her. She lifted the birch again.
"Stop a moment," said Marlene, behind her. "You'd better put something over your dress. His blood is flying all over the place. You don't want ruin it." She opened her wardrobe and took out one of the raincoats that Erika had examined a few weeks previously. It was a shimmery white thing, made of very flimsy rubber. She held it open for Erika to slip into. "This will protect it."
So, thought Erika, this is the reason why your pyjamas have those spots on them. Well, well! Aloud, she said: "Thank you very much, Fraulein Reitter. You are most thoughtful." She thrilled at the idea that Marlene Reitter was holding the garment for her. She wished she could take off her clothes before she put it on. But this was not the time. Later perhaps. Who knew what was going to happen later? Events had begun to move fast, and most surprisingly.
She slipped into the shimmery raincoat, transferring the birch from one hand to the other as she put her arms into its sleeves. She buttoned it and then belted it tightly. She lifted the birch again. She hit with all her force. The whalebone ends splayed out as they fell, and cut into a wide area of the bleeding back. "This is what I've wanted to do," she muttered breathlessly, as she lashed rapidly and repeatedly, "what I've dreamed of doing, for the last six months. Oh God, I'd like to kill you with this whip!"
"You may do," said Marlene, a few moments later, after another dozen lashes had fallen. "You'd better give him a rest. I've been working on him rather a lot myself."
Erika sank on to the side of the bed, panting hard.
"I'd better stop altogether," she said. "While I can. I might not be able to in a little while."
Marlene took the birch from her hand. "You must tell me all about it. But first I'll cut him down. He can rest a bit and then go home." She went into the living-room and put the birch on to the newspaper with the whip. She opened the cedar chest and took out a large sheet of plastic material. She came back into the bedroom and spread the sheet over the bed, Erika standing up as she did so. "Thank you," she said. "I've got to put this down for him to lie on. He'll really destroy the whole of the bed otherwise." She glanced at the front of the raincoat Erika was wearing. "It's a good thing you put that on."
Erika looked downwards. The raincoat was heavily spattered with blood. "Oh dear," she said. "Let me go and wash it off."