She glanced at the door. "Whips," she said succinctly.
"I thought it might be that," he said, as calmly as he could. He did not feel at all calm. His heart was pounding furiously. He wanted to take her, strip her, throw her to the floor, and savage her furiously.
"And a nice whalebone switch. I wish I could find a cat-o'- nine-tails, too, but that's a dream."
"A very good thing it is."
"I could get one," she said wistfully, "if I were in London."
"You're not in London. And you'll have quite enough instruments without any cat-o'-nine-tails. When are you planning to use them?"
"This evening."
"Oh." He suddenly remembered Marlene Reitter. "All right. You'll have company, though. The girl from Munich is coming for dinner, with an assistant."
She frowned. She was about to say something acid, and changed her mind. She was still only the governess in his house. She would have to bide her time. "That's a pity-for me, I mean. Never mind, I'll wait till she's gone. Oh no, I forgot. She's a sadist too, isn't she? She'll be going to work on you herself. You'll be in no fit condition for me afterwards. I'll wait till tomorrow." She took a deep swallow of coffee.
He considered her thoughtfully. "Why don't we make a party of it-all of us? It might be rather fun."
"Is her assistant a sadist, too?" Her voice was a little brittle.
"Yes, I understand she is."
"You haven't met her yet?"
"No."
That would make you the victim of three women with whips. Could you stand it?"-
"Why not? The more the merrier."
"All right, if you want it like that," she said grimly. I'll certainly do my best to make it a very merry party. I hope you don't regret it."
6
The young porter paused at the head of the stairs. Twelve strokes with a whip. And then that blonde on the bed. But twelve strokes… Was it worth it? He paused for a moment longer and then decided that it was well worth it. After all, twelve strokes wouldn't kill him. And he had at times thought it would be nice to be whipped by a girl-a girl as beautiful as this red-head.
He walked to the door and knocked. He waited to hear their summons and then entered the room, closing and locking the door behind him. His eyes fell on the whip and the cords and something else on the bed, and he felt a chill of fear pass through him. He told himself again that they couldn't kill him, cruel though that whip looked.
"Fifteen minutes," he said brightly. "Here I am."
"Take off your clothes," said the red-head. She drained her cup and stood up. She took two upright chairs and placed them together. "And then lie down here." She picked up the cords from the bed. "Come along, hurry up."
He undressed himself without a word. When he was quite naked he lay down on his stomach over the seats of the two chairs.
The red-head hutched one of the chairs a little apart from the other. She indicated the crack of four of five centimetres between the two seats. "Put your rod and balls down beneath that crack."
He obeyed her in silence. He was feeling more and more frightened, but he was too dominated by her personality to protest.
She hutched the chair back again so that his genitals were tightly trapped between, and below, the seats of the two chairs. She knelt beside them and tied one of the cords around the centre legs of the chairs, making it impossible for him to wriggle his genitals loose. She moved to the other side and did the same to the other centre legs. Then she stood up and reached for the whip.
"One word of warning," she said, drawing the long leather lash through her fingers. "Don't try to pull your rod and balls free. They can't come free. They're trapped there till I undo the ropes round the chair legs. But if you try to pull yourself free, you'll castrate yourself."
"Why should I want to pull free?" he said morosely. "I'll just lie here and take your twelve."
"We'll see whether you'll just lie there," said the blonde. "You're going to want to get off those chairs as soon as she starts."
"But you'll castrate yourself," repeated the redhead, "if you try." She drew a deep breath and put a hand momentarily to her heart. As always, just before she began a whipping, it was beating furiously, almost painfully.
He twisted his head up suddenly. "Hey!" he said, excitedly. "It's my bottom you're going to hit, isn't it? Not my back."
The blonde chuckled. "It's a bit late to arrange that now."
"No!" he said, his voice shrill. "I agreed to twelve across my bottom, not my back."
"You didn't say anything about that," said the red-head. "Nor did I." She stood there in her flimsy underwear, one hand trailing the whip beside her, the other hand to her heart. Her eyes were burning with lustful cruelty. She drank in the sounds of terror in his voice. "What can you do about it now, anyway? You're absolutely at my mercy."
"No! No! Not my back! It was understood."
"Nothing was understood," she said, lifting the whip and letting its tip play lightly up and down his spine. "And even if it was, what can you do about it? I can give you a hundred across your back if I want to."
"Let me up!" he said wildly. "I want to go. I don't want to have anything to do with either of you." He pounded the floor with his fists.
She laughed, and dangled the tip of the whip in the crack of his buttocks. He reacted to this new touch as though he had received an electric shock. He gave a jerk-and immediately cried out at the pain he gave to his genitals. She laughed again. "I told you you will castrate yourself. Be careful."
"Please let me go," he said more quietly. "I'll keep my mouth shut, I promise you. I won't say anything to anybody about all this. But please let me go."
"That's very big of you. Thank you. But I don't give a damn whom you tell or don't tell." She made a loop of the whip and placed it round his neck. She stood above him and drew the loop tight. "A very good sound thrashing across your back would do you a world of good. I can see. But I'm going to give it to you across your bottom, after all. Do you know why?"
The whip was very tightly round his throat, throttling him. He made a choking noise.
She tightened the loop even more, counting the seconds in her mind. She would keep him without breath for another half minute. "Why don't you answer me? Do you want to make me angry? Do you want it across your back after all?"
He began to beat frantically again on the floor, his senses swimming.
"Careful!" said the blonde, warningly.
"He's all right," said the red-heat, and counted the last five seconds. She released her hold on the whip. He drew a great gulp of air into his lungs, swallowed, exhaled, and drew another great breath. He twisted his head up at her. His eyes were panic-stricken. "You must be a devil!" he whispered.
She swung the whip through the air. It hissed ominously. His words gave her tremendous pleasure. So did the panic- stricken look in his eyes. "I was about to tell you why I'm going to be kind and thrash only your bottom. It's because my friend wants to have you afterwards, and I don't think you'd be any good for her if I whip your back. You don't seem to be very tough. For that reason I'm going to gag you." She went to where her rucksack was lying and found the stockings with which she had gagged Franz-Ruller. She rolled one of them into a ball and came back to him. "Open your mouth wide," she ordered. He opened his mouth to protest-and was quickly and efficiently gagged almost before he realised what was happening. She measured her distance with the whip at arm's length, settled herself comfortably with her feet slightly apart, put her hand once more to her heart, and drew another deep breath, a breath of quivering exhilaration. "Now!" she murmured. She raised the whip high above her head, held it there for an instant, and brought it hissing down with all her force across the centre of his buttocks.