15. The group
The day after, from the window of her new room, wrapped in a cape, Claudine observed the arrival of several cars that were parking in front of the entrance. People who got out of them were entering the house. That movement troubled Claudine.
Eugene entered Claudine's room and left some clothes on the bed, very similar to those he brought in the morning.
—Good morning, he said calmly.—Please get dressed. You have to come with me.
Eugene turned around to give her a little intimacy, but didn't leave the room
Of all the inhabitants of the house, that was the only one who inspired a little confidence in Claudine. He wasn't a depraved person like the others, and he addressed her with kindness.
While Claudine was putting on her dress, she dared to ask him:
—Won't they hurt me, right?
—Please turn around; I'll blindfold you.
After blinding her, Eugene took her gently by the arm and led her out of the room
When they arrived at the staircase leading to the lower floor, Eugene told her:
—Be careful on the stairs. Let's go down.
Halfway there, Eugene stopped Claudine.
—Do me a favor, Claudine: when the time comes, try not to think about anything; leave your mind blank. Relax. It'll be better. Do you understand?
If what Claudine felt in that instant had been experienced by Eugene, it's possible he would have tried to convince her to break off the deal and go back home, assuming the consequences of his disloyalty.
Mrs. Wallace, holding onto the arm of one of her last guests, entered the salon. The man accompanying her was named Omar Binns, and he was the owner of several hotels in the city. Omar Binns became known in the most select social circles when one of his friends, the wife of a high-ranking government official, took her own life. Before doing so, she wrote a note accusing him of being the cause of her Disasters. His mother, of Arab origin, was the cause of his attractiveness; from her he inherited his brunette skin, wide mouth, and deep gaze. From his father, on the other hand, he inherited his distinguished bearing and a great fortune. What no one knew, what was then unknown, was where his sadistic sexual tendencies came from.
With the intention of greeting the rest of the guests, both made a protocolary tour of the salon.
As they passed by the sofa, Miss Madeline Galloway and her slave Chloe got up from their armchairs. In the perverse world that united them, both women constituted two opposite parts of the same reason. Madeline was a beautiful woman with soft features; she had red hair; hair that usually wore it asymmetrical. Her elongated mouth, formed by very fine lips, guarded almost perfect teeth. She was all an image clean, self-assured and incorruptible; everything the opposite of her slave, who was dirty, left and corrupt; a beast that would have darkened the beauty of her mistress and any women who approached her.
Among beautiful women, the brunette's beauty is to the redhead what, in intelligence and most aspects, is the woman to the man: superior in all its dimensions.
Almost at the same time, the young married couple formed by Aidan and Carol got up from the sofa. Both, young and wealthy, represented an exemplary marriage. They were one of those couples that, like Madeline and Chloe, complemented each other perfectly. She had a pointed nose with a certain air of superiority, which, added to her gracious and permanent smile, made her often show her superior incisors, giving her face the appearance of a charming mouse sniffing out cheese. She was wearing a brown flower-print dress that matched her skirt, long and smooth. Elisabeth thought she was dressed like a common secretary, very much like Fashion among young women of that era. Her husband, a young tall man with red hair and deep forehead lines, had an adorable, pleasant, and gentle face.
Carol looked at the handsome and elegant man in front of her with a mischievous smile. He was good-looking and attractive, and he had something that, even being a woman with dominant principles, made her feel like she wanted to be dominated by him.
A little further on, looking at the vitrine that protected from dust all sorts of whips, there was a small, thin man with a serene face and intelligent gaze. He stood out for his oratory ability, which he showcased during his interventions in the House of Lords. This man was called Robert Boldt, and he had the vice of strangulation. He was accompanied by Rose, a middle-aged woman addicted to deception and lover of discipline.
At the back of the room, next to the fireplace, with her head bowed to hide her face and her arms crossed, a corpulent man remained separate from the others. Omar Binns greeted all the present guests except for this character whom everyone knew but nobody spoke to; then he focused his attention on the hostess, dedicating all kinds of flattery and good words to her.
Among all these people there was a common denominator: perversion, which also enjoyed by little Emily. But between all those guests and little Emily existed the difference that, while some could see their acts modified or affected by a feeling of compassion; this was impossible for our small devil.
After a while, Elisabeth apologized to her guest and then approached Eugene, indicating that he could now prepare Claudine and bring her down.
Claudine entered the salon with her head bowed, dragging her bare feet. All the present guests noticed her arrival, but no one, except her owner and an invited guest, showed greater interest in her, so the conversations that were taking place continued uninterrupted. They maintained little or no effect on her. These, even carried out without much commotion, formed such an effect in the salon that Claudine believed she was facing twenty people, all of them perhaps disposed to enjoy her body, a conclusion she reached after being led into the salon with her eyes blindfolded and wearing nothing under the cape that covered her body.
—Stay quiet —Eugene said indolently—. Don't move.
Among the intermittent gazes Claudine received, one remained faithful to her and observed her closely. This gaze belonged to a person who had learned to appreciate the difference between this slave and the others. He had recognized in her the true terror, the anguish, and glimpsed the two wet spots that had formed on the bandage covering her eyes. This slave suffered before being tortured; he liked that. The person examining her was Madeline, and she did so without realizing that she herself was being observed by Chloe, her lover and slave, who saw the interest this dirty slut awakened in her mistress and burned with jealousy.
Fabian strolled among the guests, changing their empty cups and offering appetizers.
Eugene released Claudine's arm and stepped back, leaving his position to Elisabeth, who grasped her slave's arm just as her majordomo had been doing.
—Gentlemen... —she said—, please pay attention. When she saw that everyone was listening, she continued with great eloquence.
In the time we've been holding these gatherings, we've seen ourselves under the obligation to respect the agreements made with the different women contracted; this is, for us, to act with our hands tied. For now, it hasn't been beaten or slapped in any way; nor has it been sodomized. Cascabel has a virtue that will surely be to everyone's liking: she suffers when someone possesses her. That's why I'm going to leave her at your disposal. Each of you will be... free to use it wherever she pleases. On the other hand, Ladies can whip and penetrate her with the various objects they find in the corresponding place. The night is long, so I recommend using Cascabel little by little, leaving for the end everything that could cause her more harm—just as solemnly as a vain mayor would unveil a statue of himself on the town square on his inauguration day, Elisabeth discovered her slave, leaving her naked in front of her guests—Ladies, I present to you Cascabel.
At this moment, all gazes fell simultaneously upon the poor wretch. Elisabeth experienced a feeling of pride she had rarely enjoyed before. She considered her husband a fool and her daughter a disobedient demon, unable to control his impulses. It couldn't be said that she felt very proud of them, but she did feel proud of her slave. She was truly hers; her body, her fear, her shame, her modesty...; all of her, down to the deepest part of her person, belonged to her, and the best thing is that her guests knew it. What immense pleasure she felt! 'I'd give anything for her to be mine forever...' she said to herself.
—Cascabel: Go to the vitrine and choose a whip, the one you like most.
Eugene removed the blindfold from her eyes. Having done this, Claudine approached the vitrine, looked up, and examined the various torture instruments on display. Among them, she fixed on a rod used by schoolmasters to point out a specific spot on the blackboard and, in some cases, correct the wayward behavior of rebellious pupils.
Claudine chose this object; perhaps influenced by her relationship with school, and believing that if it was used on children, it would be less painful. She opened the vitrine doors, removed the fine wooden table, and returned to her mistress, who was giving instructions to... Eugene. Looking at the floor, he extended his hand to deliver the object to its owner.
--It's not for me; lower your hand. Choose the person you prefer to whip, Cascabel. Come on, Cascabel, who do you want to hit first?
Claudine, making an effort not to cry, raised her gaze and looked vaguely at the people gathered there.
--Okay, Cascabel; deliver the rod --said Elisabeth.
At that moment, Eugene and Fabián entered with a rather archaic wooden horse to which they had attached iron rings on the lower part of each leg, somewhat disproportionate for the size of the torture instrument. They left it on the floor and retreated. Claudine was so disoriented that she didn't even notice the entrance of that contraption. She advanced a few steps and, casting another furtive glance at the small group formed by four people seated in front of her, delivered the rod to the one closest to her who, against her nature, most desired to be chosen. Before accepting the delivery, the chosen one waited for her Ama's approval.
--Forward, Chloe --said she, smiling-- take it.
Claudine turned around and, as if seeing it in a dream, discovered the horse. Naked as she was, observed by those strangers, she couldn't help but shiver at the new discovery.
She approached her Ama and waited silently while still listening to the supervisor's harsh voice.
Elisabeth took Claudine's arm and led her next to the horse. Chloe followed without releasing the rod. Elisabeth separated Claudine's legs with her hands and inclined her over the horse.
--Fabián --said she, pointing to her slave--: hands and feet.
With this order, Elisabeth indicated to her butler that he should tie the slave's feet and hands to the rings of the horse. Claudine, as if she were a doll, let herself be done with. laughter among the group.
Chloe didn't flinch. Few times did she do so, even when being hit. The corners of her mouth, naturally fallen, gave her face a serious and stern look, as if constantly annoyed. Suddenly, she fixed her gaze on Claudine's backside, and without saying anything, lifted her arm with the whip and struck her buttocks; she did it with such violence that left everyone present stunned and barely out of breath from the laughter that had awakened with the joke. A couple of seconds later, during which a sepulchral silence reigned, Claudine let out a scream that made more than one person's hair stand on end. It was a scream so agonizing, so tearing, that even the stout man who was isolated in a corner of the salon, taking advantage of the fact that Claudine, due to her position, couldn't see him, approached to contemplate the damage caused by the blow up close. Already from afar, he could see a red line drawn on Claudine's buttocks; a line that changed the intensity of its color until it became garnet and mulberry.
Confused by her slave's anger and recognizing an expression of disgust on her hostess's face, Madeline got up from the armchair and, before Chloe could again show off her violence, approached her and stopped her.
-- Calm down, dear; you must control your strength. Two more blows like this one and we'll wear out the poor creature. We want it to last a bit longer...
Claudine was crying desperately. She shook her feet and hands in an attempt to flee from there, something completely impossible.
Chloe's jealousy had obscured the possibility of being punished if she didn't follow her Ama's instructions, but repressing her anger proved as or more painful than receiving a punishment, so, catching everyone off guard, she launched two new blows, one after another, with the same ferocity with which she had launched the first. On this occasion, as she furrowed her brow and pressed hard on... jawbone, left visible her anger. Claudine began to scream, and amidst her desperate screams, she repeated several times that they should not hurt her again. And Elizabeth, who was alarmed by the first blow, felt a cramp in her stomach with the next two. The slave's rebellion and her own suffering excited her as it had been some time since she was so excited.
'Chloe!' Madeline shouted angrily, 'I told you to control yourself! Let go of that now! Right away!
'Let her continue,' Elizabeth said softly.
'She'll be marked if she keeps hitting her like that,' Madeline replied.
Elizabeth gagged her slave with a piece of cloth.
'It will make a nice memory of today, don't you think? Come on, Chloe, ahead...
The three blows were followed by nineteen more, which, to the delight of those present, were executed almost with the same intensity as the first ones. This caused Claudine to lose consciousness.
Madeline had never seen her slave behave with such sadism before. She was surprised, and while the servants tried to revive Claudine, she wanted to know why her behavior.
'Have you been treated well?'
'No, Ama.'
Madeline looked at her fixedly; the other one lowered her gaze.
'I would say yes, Chloe.'
'Si, Ama.'
'Then?'
'It's strange, Ama.'
'Nothing is strange, Chloe. What you did and how you did it has a reason. If you don't explain it, I'll let the bell-ringer's slave hit you until you stop feeling strange. Do you want that?'
'No, Ama.'
'Well, then make an effort to explain it.
Embarrassed by shame, Chloe lowered her head and said:
'I saw that you were paying attention to her and felt jealous.'
In a certain way, the confession of her slave filled her with satisfaction, but she couldn't let it show, and decided to punish her. She ordered her to kneel behind the bell-ringer's slave and calm the wounds she had caused with her tongue. really wanted, Chloe got down on her knees, grasped Claudine's hips and licked the wounds drawn by herself.
That's it, said Madeline, parting Cascabel's buttocks. And while you're healing her wounds, I'll enjoy her precious body and, as a bonus, give her the pleasure she deserves.
Rising up onto Claudine's back, she leaned over her and, without letting her buttocks close, began to lick what they held in reserve with such modesty.
Although Claudine was still a bit dazed, she was able to thank them for stopping the beating; and although it seemed repulsive to her now what they were doing to her, she preferred it to being beaten. What she didn't know, nor could she imagine, was that she would prefer the beatings to what was yet to come.
Elisabeth, with the cloth that had served as a gag for Claudine and which one of the mayordomos had removed to revive her, tied her eyes shut. Then she gestured to the tall, robust man who had remained in the shadows during the introduction.
It didn't need saying; the man approached, unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his flaccid sex from his clothes. After Elisabeth ordered her slave to open her mouth, he introduced it into her. Once inside, it began to take shape slowly.
The rest of the group gathered around Claudine. Whoever had been awakened by the scene wanted to be a part of it too. Madeline moved her face away from Claudine's buttocks, told her slave to stop licking the wounds and, after caressing the battered buttocks with the palm of her hand and feeling the relief of the wounds, both of them stepped back into the second row, leaving more space for the rest of the torturers.
I'd like to propose something, if I may, said Mr. Boldt.
Go ahead, said Elisabeth.
Before we use her, wouldn't it be a good idea to make her walk the plank? he said.
That sounds fine, Robert, said Elisabeth. Eugene: bring the rope.
What a great idea, added Carol, as usual, with her mouse-like smile—. And... what if we tie her hands behind her back? —Fine —said Omar—, and let's leave the blindfold on her eyes. I also propose that we put pins all over her body, and an anchor inserted in her rear orifice to pull her along. —Yes! —Carol exclaimed — that would be very good. Before he could ejaculate, the man forcing Claudine's mouth stopped and stepped back, a moment Fabian took advantage of to free Claudine from the horse and tie her hands behind her back. Shortly after, while the group discussed how to torture Claudine, Eugene returned with the rope and, with Fabian's help, stretched it from one end of the salon to the other, tying the ends about a meter high, so that if someone walked between her legs, she would be forced to do so on tiptoes, or else she would burn. The rope was made of hemp or perhaps esparto, quite thick, and had many knots along its length, about a palm apart from each other. Someone thought it would be more fun if some parts of the rope were greased with spicy sauce, and even someone proposed rubbing her with nettle leaves; but fortunately for Claudine, the terrain around the house lacked this vegetation, and the idea was discarded. With the help of the muscular man, Eugene lifted Claudine and placed her on the rope, which fit into the groove of her sex. Elisabeth tilted her head down, pushing her by the back of the neck, to have the anchor inserted into her rear cavity. This consisted of a metal object shaped like an arrow, whose points were folded inward to facilitate penetration, and which, through a simple internal mechanism designed by Mr. Wallace in his free time and built in his factory, would open once inside. If someone outside pulled on the rope attached to the object... extreme, the points were piercing the inner walls of the cavity. Madeline was in charge of introducing the object, not without first sucking on the hole where it should be introduced, to continue exciting her slave's jealousy. Once introduced, she activated the mechanism that opened it and stepped back. Claudine, more from sensation than pain, let out a scream, Elisabeth then allowed her slave to turn over again. Carol and her partner were in charge of placing the tongs on Claudine's body, pulling faces of pain from her face. Now it was about making her walk so that the cord would burn her sex and the knots would hit her clitoris. To do this, each of the guests, except for Chloe and young Aidan, took one of the whips exposed in the vitrine. The first to launch the first blow was Mrs. Rose. She did it accompanied by a walk, foxy! that humiliated Claudine even more, and which, of course, made her take another step forward. And almost instantly, poor Claudine received the order not to stop and immediately received a terrible lash that marked her arms and back. Claudine began to walk very slowly to reduce the effects of the friction, but suddenly all the whips fell on her, and desperate, in a state almost of hysteria, she accelerated her steps in vain. When the pain of her sex was greater than that of the blows, she stopped. She bent forward and stayed like that, no longer caring what they did to her. The lashes ceased. There was a moment of silence. Only Claudine's labored breathing could be heard. Finally, she thought, they have pitied me. A thought that lasted until the moment she felt a pinch and pressure inside. Someone was starting to pull on the anchor and forcing her to move back. When, after a while, Claudine seemed to lose consciousness, they took her off the cord and carried her semi-conscious to the stocks. There they placed her and They used all their entries: women, with various objects, while men, with their members. Thus they had her near two hours; then the thing decayed and little by little they were leaving her. Never a woman was so brutally treated in that house. Claudine's aspect, once they had finished with her, was so deplorable that Elisabeth herself pitied her, so she ordered Eugene and Fabian to untie her and both take her up to their room. This is how the first group session of Claudine ended.
Injustice
Marie finished dinner and retired to her room, as usual, to escape with the reading of her books. After finishing Wuthering Heights, she removed from the shelf the book titled The Count of Monte Cristo, following the preferred order of her mental list. Next would come The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and then - here was a small confrontation - it would be the turn of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland. As she left the book on the nightstand, she realized that her mother's photo was missing. She looked around, thinking maybe a draft had blown it away, but neither under the bed nor anywhere else did it appear.
As she had seen her two small cousins rummaging around there several times, she suspected them at once. She left her room, nervous, and entered theirs. She took a look around, not finding what she was looking for, then registered the drawers and looked under the two beds, but found nothing. Disheartened, just as she was about to leave, an impulse led her to lift the mattress. Just there, underneath it, she found it, exactly as the children had left it. Marie picked it up gently. Her mother's face had disappeared, although for a moment it seemed to be looking at her from the paper, more alive than ever. A little later, it vanished. Marie covered her mouth with the photo, as if it were would be kissing and began to cry. Two small children pushed in, stopped abruptly when they saw their cousin in the room with tears in her eyes and the crime evidence in her hand. Unable to control their laughter, they covered their mouths. One of them ran out the door, and when the other tried to follow him, Marie's arm caught up with him by the collar of his sweater. With a nervous laugh, something hilarious, the boy assured that he hadn't done it, and before he could finish accusing his brother, Marie slapped him in the face. The boy went from giggles to incredulity, and incredulous, began to cry. His cheek, white just moments before, was turning red. Instantly, scared and repentant for what she had just done, Marie released the boy and asked for forgiveness, but without even listening, he ran out of the room. Marie chased after him, but stopped when she got to the hallway, because at the end of it, Aunt Rose was standing with her two puppies, looking very angry. Marie approached her and showed her the photo.
—Look what they did to my...
—Did you hit my son?!
Rose made an effort to control her anger.
—I'm sorry, Aunt Rose. Excuse me...
But before she could apologize, Rose turned her back and left.
During dinner, Rose told Marie:
—I can't say that my relationship with your father was especially close, since it wouldn't be true, but I still loved him like a brother of mine. Now, unfortunately, you are the only thing I have left of him. However, I think I rushed into the decision to let you live with us. I thought you would adapt; I had hoped you would, but today you've shown me that you won't. After much thinking, I believe it will be better for everyone if, until you're old enough, you live with another family.
Nothing could make Marie more desperate to leave that house. She immediately thought of the... parents of Darrell, as they were the closest to the family and those who showed the most interest in taking her in at first. Marie was about to show joy thinking of them, but restrained herself. Doing so would have been impolite and lacking respect towards her aunt, so she pretended to feel sad.
—Since, being my brother's daughter, I feel morally obligated to care for you and your future, I'm going to leave you in the care of a very respected family in this country, whom I can trust—
—But, Aunt Rose, I don't want to go to the home of strangers! Please, Aunt, the Tillmans...
—How dare you question my decision? Do you think I don't know what's best for you? I'm still responsible for you, and I won't let your education fall into the hands of a family I barely know.
17. Emily
Someone said that Emily was an abominable being. Certainly she was, although it wouldn't seem so to everyone.
Emily embodied vice, depravity, injustice, perversion; Emily was the unbridled, unnatural, unpredictable one; a wonderful being who found her freedom by coercing others'.
With permission, I'll jump ahead in time to tell a brief chapter from Emily's life, which has little to do with this story but will help us delve deeper into her beautiful way of being.
A long time ago, within a prosperous London family, a creature of extraordinary and monstrous nature was born, much to the dismay of some and joy of few. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wallece, baptized her with the name Emily. These, as they became aware of their daughter's twisted nature over time, instead of correcting it, fed it with an education based on the supremacy —through degradation, torture, and pain— of some people over others, especially those who belonged to the lower social classes. lower links.
This education, along with the lifestyle she had led for years, paved the way for the small one to enter the dark world of the prohibited and perversion.
The curtains opened, and the sunlight, radiant like few times it could be enjoyed in London mornings, colored the already dimmed furniture in the room.
—Good morning. Allow me.
Lord Richter, barely opening his heavy eyelids, let his wife, who had sat down on the edge of the bed beside him after drawing back the curtains, put on his glasses, and thanked God one more day for staying alive with her.
He met her at a party; four years ago, she was then a rather ugly girl, not very tall, too thin, with very white skin, dotted on the cheeks and nose by a faded streak of small freckles, which gave her an innocent and childish appearance, and an inquisitive look. He, at seventy-nine years old, one of the richest men in London, was struck by her when, at the party, she approached him without saying anything and offered him a crystal sphere while saying: I give it to you. It was my mother's. She always said that if you looked at it for a long time, you could see the future; but my mother told many lies.
And although they never dedicated a single minute to carnal matters during their marriage, the old man was showered with a large number of kisses, hugs, and caresses.
For a year, the young woman frequented the old man's house, during which time a very close relationship formed between them. She kept him company, told him stories she had read in books or simply invented - with an impropriety of maturity for her age - showed affection, shared confidences...; in short: she returned his youth to him. During that time, the young woman was experiencing a progressive change: physically grew (albeit slightly) and lost weight, its expression became less innocent, more serious and stern; and as for his character, it became more tempered, less impulsive and anxious, more calculating, qualities that were detrimental to a being lacking empathy.
After a year, ignoring the pleas of his closest relatives, they got married.
Lord Richter admired the beauty of his wife. She had skin as white as black hair was dark, and her pale blue eyes seemed like two ice chips.
—They'll bring breakfast in bed today —the young woman announced, combing her husband's sparse hair with her fingers—. How are you feeling today, Frank?
There was no response, as the old man had already been struggling to pronounce a word for some time; yet he tried again.
—Shhh... don't say anything —the young woman said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead—, I see that you're getting up with a lot of energy today. You look good.
Despite having become more distant since they got married, he was sure she loved him almost as much as he loved her.
—Emi...
—Shhh…
At that moment, the doorbell rang and Chloe, a young maid hired by Emily two years earlier, entered with a tray in hand. She had brown skin, large round eyes like an owl's, and a peculiar shadow around her mouth due to prominent lips.
—Good morning. May I...?
—Good morning, Chloe. Put the tray over there and close the door.
Why did he allow his young wife to serve him breakfast in bed when she was someone who so much disgusted him? The old man wondered, scowling. If only he could have exclaimed Get out and close the door! But Chloe not only closed the door but also locked it, an act that irritated and confused the octogenarian. Aware of the rejection she provoked in him, Chloe winked at him. Shameless eye. That scoundrel's gesture awakened Emily's laughter, and this, in turn, her husband's confusion.
—Chloe is not bad, my dear husband—Emily said, indicating Chloe, gently tapping her hand on the bed, which caused her to sit beside her—. She only obeys, and very efficiently, I assure you. I don't understand why it bothers him so much. He should know... hasn't anyone told him? No matter, I'll tell him... he should know that if it weren't for her, my nights in this house would have been desperately long and desolate. Why is he making that face? Already I see... he doesn't know what I'm talking about.
Chloe sat on the bed beside Emily, and the soft mattress reacted to her weight with a gentle undulation that made Lord Richter's inert body balance.
—I mean that when I'm bored, I call Chloe and we play. She likes obeying everything I tell her. For example, if I tell her to suck my foot, she does; and if I tell her to suck here (opening her legs and touching herself above the clothes), then she does too.
Chloe took the hand Emily offered her and sucked on her fingers with a libidinous expression. The old man was perplexed by his wife's bold and unknown attitude, and his anger began to mix with other sensations, such as fear or excitement. His heart was starting an unstoppable race.
With a firm, natural tone, Emily said:
—Dear Frank: I hate the way you look at Chloe. I'm going to have to punish him. Punishment is the only method for correcting human behavior. I know many methods, thousands of them, one for each person and situation. Using them, I could even make her sing. For good and for bad, we swore on our wedding day. It's time for the bad, my dear Lord Ridiculouster. Chloe: when you look at her like that, hit her.
Emily removed her hand from Chloe's mouth. Who, without prior order, got up, removed all the clothes she was wearing -- a coif, an apron, a bra, and panties --, fell to her knees in front of her mistress, put her hands under her dress, took off her panties, and kissed them. The old man's breathing became perceptible throughout the room. Even the sound of his saliva crossing his parched throat could be heard.
Conscious of the pain she was causing, Emily opened her legs and let the maid introduce her head between them. She leaned on the bed with one arm and guided Chloe's head towards her sex with the other hand.
Not even the warm rays of the sun were able to give a little color to the old man's pale face, who looked at the scene disheveled as the dirty Gypsy maid dived into the warm seas that his unrecognizable wife was offering him. What vulgarity, what impudence, what indecency those two prostitutes from the suburbs were, and how exciting it was at the same time, since one of them was not her beloved wife.
And if Emily was enjoying anything, it wasn't because of the humid massage she was being subjected to, but because of the pain it produced in her wealthy husband. That excited her, but not much, as all that was just a naughty game for children compared to what she really wanted to do.
She turned towards her husband and felt his member over his pants.
'Detain yourself, Chloe. We're not here for that. Bring breakfast.'
Drying her mouth with her forearm, Chloe went to get the tray and left it on the bed.
'Let's see what we have here...' Emily said, lifting the shiny, oval-shaped lid that covered the contents of a plate -- 'Look at this (lifted an object made of marbled ivory and phallic shape); it's an... a device to relieve tension and calm anxiety in women who are poorly screwed, like poor Chloe, who can't find a well-endowed man to console her. Instead, and although you may not believe it, my beloved Lord' Richter, it's she who gets me the men with whom I spend most of my nights. Of course! Doing that you're thinking and many other things more than I would ever imagine. It's time to think about poor Chloe, so let's leave her to enjoy today. Chloe: from now on, your husband is mine.
The maid, who was naked and smelled like a wet dog, got down on her knees over the old man's legs and pulled down his pants and underwear. The old man's member had a depressing appearance, and his eyes, wide open, shone with fright. Chloe sat on him and moved her hips, massaging it with the wet surface of her pubic area. At times, the member would slightly increase in size, only when her wild heart deigned to expel blood towards that place. Meanwhile, Emily grabbed her husband's hand and took it to the voluminous breast of her maid.
—Touch them; they have young and smooth skin. Or do you prefer to try them?
Emily doesn't undress.
—Open your mouth.
The old man looked at his young wife with wide-eyed, filled with fright.
—Chloe: make her open.
Chloe lifted the old man's face by the chin, and with her other hand hit him so hard on the cheek that one of his few remaining teeth was about to fall out. But the old man, scared, pressed his lips together with all his might.
Emily, calmly but without losing the firm tone, ordered Chloe to hold the old man's face, and while she did, she closed his nostrils with her fingers, forcing him to open his mouth to breathe, and took advantage of it to introduce the object through the base.
—If you don't want it to go down your throat, grab it tightly with your mouth.
And as the old man listened to the painful words his wife was directing at him, he watched with resignation how the exuberant gypsy woman with a thick and curly hair twirled around herself and brought her round buttocks close to the comforter. From that distance, he could perceive the strong smell of his groin, especially when he opened his buttocks with his hands to facilitate the entry of the object. From that perspective, the view was overwhelming: a lengthened object rose upwards from his mouth to the entrance of a malodorous sex, whose folds of brownish flesh, flanked by a dark and dense hair that extended beyond the anus, shone due to the fluids flowing out of its interior. And so unpleasant was everything for him as the fact that his wife, the artist of such a scene, remained seated beside him, immobilizing his head with her hands and smiling. Then, the same folds that kept him troubled began to devour the object, approaching without pause towards his face until they finally collided with it. He made contact with his mouth, and his anus with his nose, preventing him from breathing. While inclining his torso forward, he grabbed his flaccid member and put it in his mouth.
Struggling between pleasure and pain, Lord Richter felt his member tensing up.
The fluids of Chloe have a different taste. They create addiction. Come on, suck it.
He then turned her around and forced her to bite the object at its base. Guided by Emily, Chloe lowered her buttocks until she inserted the object again; this time, held in the mouth of the old man, who felt that he would soon release his last reserves of semen if his heart allowed it.
(Chloe came, and a foamy substance, similar to saliva, emerged from her vagina and slid down the object, penetrating through the corners of the old man's mouth. Breathing became more difficult. When the object was fully inserted, Chloe's anus took care of pressing against the old man's nose, causing violent vibrations in his member and more violent spasms in his heart.
It was almost over...
The old man's testicles swelled up, and Drops of pre-seminal liquid emerged from his member as his body reacted with violent spasms.
—For —ordered Emily—; I don't want him to come. It would be a very sweet gift for such a glorious ending. Let him suffer.
Chloe stopped immediately and, seeing that the poor old man was struggling to breathe, decided to increase her torment by placing her tongue where she had previously had her hand and continuing with this masturbation, pressing skillfully on the glans area.
The old man's eyes turned white, and he exhaled.
18. A walk in the city.
Emily, holding Eugene's arm, walked down a street in central London. They had covered the several kilometers that separated Wallace Residence from the city to make some purchases. As they passed by the gate of a school, she stopped to watch children running and playing on the patio. In one corner, she discovered three young girls blocking the path of a short-statured boy with rough skin and scared eyes. One of them, the tallest, pushed him against the wall. The boy tried to wriggle free, but one of them grabbed his hair and threw him against the floor. Then, another of the girls, the smallest of all, sat on top of him and immobilized him by his arms. At that moment, Emily felt a sense of joy inside her, an excitement that burned her stomach.
—Eugene —said Emily, admiring the natural perversity of children—: take me to Clerkenwell.
Eugene, cunning as he was, recognized the look in his mistress's eyes, full of such terrifying perspicacity, and intuited the reasons for her unexpected change of direction towards the city's lower depths.
—It's not the most appropriate place to go, Emily. It's dangerous.
The young woman tightened her grip on her butler's arm and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
—and that's why you're coming with me —she replied with a cold smile.
Of all the living beings that inhabited the earth, Eugene was the only one for whom she felt a kind of affection, an affection that... other side, very rare did manifest. —Yet, Emily, it is still dangerous. Returned to the car, parked a few meters away, and headed towards the Clerkenwell neighborhood. Emily, seated as usual in the back seat of the vehicle, gazed at the urban landscape without paying attention. She thought about the scene she had seen a little earlier, with children, and a final for it that was nowhere near the real outcome. —We've arrived — said Eugene, waking Emily from her daze. —Good, Eugene. Go slower. Eugene slowed down and sharpened his senses. Driving through this neighborhood worried him. Emily, on the other hand, enjoyed the landscape, poor and decadent, full of misery. She rolled down the window and perceived the putrid aroma that came from the streets. —If Mrs. discovers I brought her here, she'll kill me. —It's possible. —What will discover it? —Not; the other one. Several streets later, as they passed in front of an alley, Emily ordered Eugene to stop, since she believed she could distinguish in the darkness, lying on the ground, a poor vagrant. Emily got out of the car, ignoring her butler's request not to leave the vehicle, and walked up to the entrance of the alley. Eugene got out of the car, positioned himself behind her, and both could glimpse, almost at the end of the alley, what Emily had believed she saw and was looking for. —Convince that man to come with us — said Emily—. Give him some coins, and tell him if he does what I ask, he'll receive much more. —That man might be sick. —I won't touch him. Go. —Still, Emily. —Go. Eugene furrowed his brow and entered the alley. He reached the height of the man, looked at him coldly and kicked him in the side. The man woke up, hitting the bottle of Macallan whiskey that was standing next to him; and as he tried to stand up with limited success, began to mutter all sorts of insults and curses. Eugene pulled out several pounds from a small black bag and threw them over his head. The coins clinked against the man's torso and fell to the ground with their consequent tinkling sound. For a few seconds, that drunk looked at the coins in incredulity; then he picked them up one by one.
Do you want more? I'll give you many more if you come with me; thirty times what you have in your hands.
The man looked at him suspiciously.
My wife wants to use you, Eugene continued, pointing to Emily with his head—Concede her whims and the money will be yours.
The man looked at Emily, who was waiting in the alleyway entrance. In a flash of lucidity, that wretched person wondered why a young woman like her would be interested in someone like him. But the idea disappeared soon after, overwhelmed by a more powerful one: the money.
Eugene helped the man get up from the ground. He could barely stand on his feet. Eugene noticed the bloodstain on his clothes.
What's that? he asked.
The drunk, who was struggling to keep his eyes open, took a few seconds to respond.
A dog attacked me.
Eugene thought for a moment and concluded he should take him with him. As they crossed paths with Emily, the man, so drunk he was, only saw her feet. They got into the car and, after a journey of over two hours through roads that crossed towns and forests, arrived at home.
Before getting out of the car, Emily made sure no one was around the house, and gave Eugene instructions to take his guest down to the basement. To get down the stairs, Eugene had to pick up the man, as he risked hitting his head if he tried to walk down on his own.
And my money? the drunk slurred when Eugene left him on the floor, immediately closing his eyes. He had fallen asleep.
Wake him up, Eugene, and tie him, Emily said.
After a few shakes, the drunk was woken up, and as if he were a puppet, Eugene managed it until he immobilized him, on his knees facing the wall, using ropes hanging from an iron ring. He stripped off his clothes, leaving his back naked, and brought his pants down to his knees. As he did so, he saw something in a pocket and took it out. It was a pendant with a beautiful design in the center.
—This is yours —Eugene said, showing the pendant to Emily.
—Is it gold?
—No doubt.
—Where do you think he stole it from? Something tells me that his clothes have something to do with it.
—Most likely, Emily. We shouldn't have brought him.
—Why? We'll help this wretched man redeem his sins through suffering.
Emily didn't want to draw attention, so she decided not to risk going up to get a good whip to destroy the back of that filthy creature and rummaged through the multitude of trunks stored on shelves and in cabinets or left on the floor. She found an elastic band a short time later, closed, quite flexible and thick. She took it, passed it under the man's feet, pulled up his clothes covering his torso, and placed the band around his abdomen. She stretched the end of the band a few steps until she was very close to the wall. She made an effort to reach it but couldn't. Eugene approached and, with some effort, stretched the band until it touched the wall. There was an iron hook there, and he secured him.
—Let's give him a scare —Emily said.
She was about to release the band when she thought of tying some screws, three or four, to it with a cord. The man woke up. He emitted a few grunts, vaguely asked to be released, called those who had tied him up that way whores and demanded his money.
—Make that fool shut up —Emily said.
The butler took a roll of adhesive tape from one of the shelves and covered his mouth.
Impatient, as soon as the butler stepped back, Emily lifted the band off the hook. the nails barely marked the skin of the man. Emily was disillusioned. Then she grabbed a fairly thick rope and began to whip the drunk's back with it. But when, after a while, she saw that she wasn't getting any thanks for her effort, she got tired and asked Eugene to untie him.
—Let's get out of here. This is like punching a sandbag.
And like a sandbag, Eugene loaded him onto his shoulder and took him back to the car to take him back to the city. Halfway there, Emily ordered him to stop and leave him there.
Eugene grabbed his legs, pulled him out of the car, and dragged him to the edge of a rocky and steep embankment.
—Can I leave some coins? —he asked Emily
—My money... —the drunk mumbled with his eyes closed, without strength, as if he were speaking in his sleep.
Emily looked at him impassively. It would be hard to explain what she felt in that moment; perhaps an excessive hatred, the tender compassion of a mother, mixed with a wild surge of adrenaline; whatever it was, it led the little devil to take a coin from her pocket; the wretched man opened his eyes and looked at the coin, and when he tried to lift his arm to grab it, Emily threw it away.
—Go get it —she said.
And Eugene, quick on his feet, grabbed Emily by the waist and separated her from the wretch just as she was about to kick him towards the white and sharp rocks.
—By God, Emily! Have you gone crazy?
—Let me go! He's a thief! He'll be better off dead.
—But you're not an assassin.
—I make justice!
Eugene threw Emily against the ground, angry but still looking calm. The dust she raised quickly dissipated.
—What do you know about justice... —he said.
Emily, overcome with hatred, got up and sat down on the ground. Seeing her hands covered in dirt, she shook them off.
—You're just waiting to hit me, servant. —Emily stood up from the floor.— Come on, hit me, Eugene, the defender of the rabble.
—Do you think your hands are cleaner than hers? Look at yourself, Emily: there's nothing good in you.
—you're so weak…
—My weakness, Emily, is the most abominable thing that has ever existed.
—Hit me.
—I'm not going to hit you. Get into the car; we're leaving.
—I'm not going anywhere, stupid servant. I'm the one who gives orders.
Without making much effort, Eugene let out a slap at Emily that sent her back to the floor again. The young woman began to bleed from her nose. As she realized it, she smiled with malice. She wiped the blood on her hand and smeared it on her lips and chin.
—you liked it. I can see it in your eyes—said Emily.
Eugene approached her and held out his hand.
—that's enough, Emily. We're going home.
They got into the car and returned. At one point during the trip, Emily asked Eugene:
—Do you hate me, Eugene?
But he didn't answer.
19. Marie moves in with the Wallece
As they exited the car, two dogs showed up, exhibiting their fierce teeth and expelling a foamy white bubble from their mouths, showing their hostile character. Not even the wind, which was blowing so strongly that it lifted tiny particles of earth that hit against the vehicle, could chase them away. Marie got scared. With each bark, her body would spasmically shrink due to fear caused by the beasts.
The driver honked the horn a couple of times.
A little later, a butler came out of the main door of the house and, shielding his face with his arm, approached the car. He chased away the dogs at the cry of: Come on... get away from here!, and they immediately turned around and walked slowly away as if the cold wind blowing was imperceptible to them.
When they saw that the dogs had disappeared behind the house, Aunt Rose and Marie got out of the car after the man opened the door for them. door. Aunt Rose, quick on her reflexes, grabbed her hat before the wind could take it from her.
Protect your eyes! said the butler, raising his voice to be heard. This wind is the devil's own!
He turned around and went back towards the house. Rose and Marie followed him, covering their faces as well to protect themselves from the wind. Once inside, the butler closed the door, preventing the air from continuing to agitate the leaves of the only plant that decorated the vestibule.
Aunt Rose took off her hat and styled her hair.
It's been a while since I've seen you, she said to the butler. How are you?
I'm very well, ma'am.
I'm glad to hear it, Aunt Rose said vaguely examining the room for any defect that could be used to annoy the Wallaces.
Is there any news?
There is, ma'am.
I'm glad to hear that.
Do you want to accompany me to the salon? asked the butler, opening the double door that separated the salon from the vestibule. I'll inform Mrs. Wallace that you're here.
Aunt Rose and Marie followed him to a sofa in front of an open fireplace and sat down. The man went up the stairs. The salon, like the reception room, was an example of harmony, elegance, and cleanliness. It had a white marble table in the center where fourteen people could sit.
Listen, Marie: I'm not angry with you. In some way, I understand your behavior. I'm still getting used to the idea of not seeing your father again. All this is very difficult for everyone.
But Aunt, Darrell's parents...
Enough, Marie! We've talked about that many times before. I don't know anything about that family. I'm responsible for your education, and I consider there's no one better than the Wallaces to take on this task... a task that at the moment I'm not prepared to face. The Wallaces are a family of great reputation who can...
As Rose said this to her niece, a woman came down the stairs and approached them. Rose stood up and Marie instinctively imitated her.
—Rose... it's so good to see you —said the woman—. What brings you here?
Both women greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek.
—Do you know my niece Marie?
The woman cast a glance at the young girl.
—Is this beautiful creature your brother's daughter? Oh, poor child, I'm so sorry about her parents.
Marie lowered her head and blushed.
—I need a favor from you —said Rose.
As particles of dirt and dust were blown by the wind against the windows, a faint tinkling sound was heard passing nearby, which gradually faded away into the depths of the house, causing the conversation to pause for an instant. The sound disappearing, the conversation resumed as if nothing had happened.
—Of course, my dear friend! Let's sit down and I'll tell you what I can do for you. But first, would you like something? Do you want something, Marie?
—I don't need anything, ma'am.
—And you, Rose? Do you want something? Maybe some tea?
—Yes, thank you.
—Bring us some tea —said the woman to the butler—. Come on, tell me what I can do for you?
—I need you to take care of my niece and her education.
Elisabeth looked very seriously at Marie.
—Do you mean a radical education?
Marie, not knowing the meaning of that word, didn't see anything unusual in it.
—No, of type r.i.
—Ah, I see... it's white. Don't worry; I'll take care of her. Do you have luggage?
—Yes; one bag. The rest of my things will be brought next week.
Just then, a young woman entered the salon and saw Mrs. Rose accompanied by someone around her age, so she approached to greet them.
—Emily —said Elisabeth—: Marie will stay with us for a while. She'll sleep in the guest room at the end of the hallway. Do you want to go with her and show her around?
The butler arrived with the tea. After serving it, the woman said:
—Go to the Lady's carriage, fuck... Suitcase and lift it up to the guest room; the one at the end of the hallway.
—Yes, ma'am.
Offstage, the two creatures and the butler, Elisabeth asked Rose:
—Who knows she's here?
—Nobody. I'll say she escaped; tomorrow I'll report her disappearance. She mustn't leave this place ever again.
—I understand...
—I hate you, Elisabeth! You're a repulsive creature!
—She's a beautiful and white creature, and now she's where she has to be.
—Well, her beauty repulses me.
—I'm fascinated by it.
—I'd kill her!
—and I would too, dear, but... don't you think that would be a frivolous act? A show of ostentation. I don't know about you, but pieces like this don't fall from the sky every day.
—You're right, Elisabeth, but I can't help it. I hate her. It doesn't matter. At least...
—Yes?
...make her the most miserable person in the world, but don't touch her, at least not for now.
—Don't worry, no one will touch her. She'll keep her value.
—Thanks, Elisabeth —said Rose, getting up from the chair—. I'll call you in a few days.
The day after, from the window of her new room, wrapped in a cape, Claudine observed the arrival of several cars that were parking in front of the entrance. People who got out of them were entering the house. That movement troubled Claudine.
Eugene entered Claudine's room and left some clothes on the bed, very similar to those he brought in the morning.
—Good morning, he said calmly.—Please get dressed. You have to come with me.
Eugene turned around to give her a little intimacy, but didn't leave the room
Of all the inhabitants of the house, that was the only one who inspired a little confidence in Claudine. He wasn't a depraved person like the others, and he addressed her with kindness.
While Claudine was putting on her dress, she dared to ask him:
—Won't they hurt me, right?
—Please turn around; I'll blindfold you.
After blinding her, Eugene took her gently by the arm and led her out of the room
When they arrived at the staircase leading to the lower floor, Eugene told her:
—Be careful on the stairs. Let's go down.
Halfway there, Eugene stopped Claudine.
—Do me a favor, Claudine: when the time comes, try not to think about anything; leave your mind blank. Relax. It'll be better. Do you understand?
If what Claudine felt in that instant had been experienced by Eugene, it's possible he would have tried to convince her to break off the deal and go back home, assuming the consequences of his disloyalty.
Mrs. Wallace, holding onto the arm of one of her last guests, entered the salon. The man accompanying her was named Omar Binns, and he was the owner of several hotels in the city. Omar Binns became known in the most select social circles when one of his friends, the wife of a high-ranking government official, took her own life. Before doing so, she wrote a note accusing him of being the cause of her Disasters. His mother, of Arab origin, was the cause of his attractiveness; from her he inherited his brunette skin, wide mouth, and deep gaze. From his father, on the other hand, he inherited his distinguished bearing and a great fortune. What no one knew, what was then unknown, was where his sadistic sexual tendencies came from.
With the intention of greeting the rest of the guests, both made a protocolary tour of the salon.
As they passed by the sofa, Miss Madeline Galloway and her slave Chloe got up from their armchairs. In the perverse world that united them, both women constituted two opposite parts of the same reason. Madeline was a beautiful woman with soft features; she had red hair; hair that usually wore it asymmetrical. Her elongated mouth, formed by very fine lips, guarded almost perfect teeth. She was all an image clean, self-assured and incorruptible; everything the opposite of her slave, who was dirty, left and corrupt; a beast that would have darkened the beauty of her mistress and any women who approached her.
Among beautiful women, the brunette's beauty is to the redhead what, in intelligence and most aspects, is the woman to the man: superior in all its dimensions.
Almost at the same time, the young married couple formed by Aidan and Carol got up from the sofa. Both, young and wealthy, represented an exemplary marriage. They were one of those couples that, like Madeline and Chloe, complemented each other perfectly. She had a pointed nose with a certain air of superiority, which, added to her gracious and permanent smile, made her often show her superior incisors, giving her face the appearance of a charming mouse sniffing out cheese. She was wearing a brown flower-print dress that matched her skirt, long and smooth. Elisabeth thought she was dressed like a common secretary, very much like Fashion among young women of that era. Her husband, a young tall man with red hair and deep forehead lines, had an adorable, pleasant, and gentle face.
Carol looked at the handsome and elegant man in front of her with a mischievous smile. He was good-looking and attractive, and he had something that, even being a woman with dominant principles, made her feel like she wanted to be dominated by him.
A little further on, looking at the vitrine that protected from dust all sorts of whips, there was a small, thin man with a serene face and intelligent gaze. He stood out for his oratory ability, which he showcased during his interventions in the House of Lords. This man was called Robert Boldt, and he had the vice of strangulation. He was accompanied by Rose, a middle-aged woman addicted to deception and lover of discipline.
At the back of the room, next to the fireplace, with her head bowed to hide her face and her arms crossed, a corpulent man remained separate from the others. Omar Binns greeted all the present guests except for this character whom everyone knew but nobody spoke to; then he focused his attention on the hostess, dedicating all kinds of flattery and good words to her.
Among all these people there was a common denominator: perversion, which also enjoyed by little Emily. But between all those guests and little Emily existed the difference that, while some could see their acts modified or affected by a feeling of compassion; this was impossible for our small devil.
After a while, Elisabeth apologized to her guest and then approached Eugene, indicating that he could now prepare Claudine and bring her down.
Claudine entered the salon with her head bowed, dragging her bare feet. All the present guests noticed her arrival, but no one, except her owner and an invited guest, showed greater interest in her, so the conversations that were taking place continued uninterrupted. They maintained little or no effect on her. These, even carried out without much commotion, formed such an effect in the salon that Claudine believed she was facing twenty people, all of them perhaps disposed to enjoy her body, a conclusion she reached after being led into the salon with her eyes blindfolded and wearing nothing under the cape that covered her body.
—Stay quiet —Eugene said indolently—. Don't move.
Among the intermittent gazes Claudine received, one remained faithful to her and observed her closely. This gaze belonged to a person who had learned to appreciate the difference between this slave and the others. He had recognized in her the true terror, the anguish, and glimpsed the two wet spots that had formed on the bandage covering her eyes. This slave suffered before being tortured; he liked that. The person examining her was Madeline, and she did so without realizing that she herself was being observed by Chloe, her lover and slave, who saw the interest this dirty slut awakened in her mistress and burned with jealousy.
Fabian strolled among the guests, changing their empty cups and offering appetizers.
Eugene released Claudine's arm and stepped back, leaving his position to Elisabeth, who grasped her slave's arm just as her majordomo had been doing.
—Gentlemen... —she said—, please pay attention. When she saw that everyone was listening, she continued with great eloquence.
In the time we've been holding these gatherings, we've seen ourselves under the obligation to respect the agreements made with the different women contracted; this is, for us, to act with our hands tied. For now, it hasn't been beaten or slapped in any way; nor has it been sodomized. Cascabel has a virtue that will surely be to everyone's liking: she suffers when someone possesses her. That's why I'm going to leave her at your disposal. Each of you will be... free to use it wherever she pleases. On the other hand, Ladies can whip and penetrate her with the various objects they find in the corresponding place. The night is long, so I recommend using Cascabel little by little, leaving for the end everything that could cause her more harm—just as solemnly as a vain mayor would unveil a statue of himself on the town square on his inauguration day, Elisabeth discovered her slave, leaving her naked in front of her guests—Ladies, I present to you Cascabel.
At this moment, all gazes fell simultaneously upon the poor wretch. Elisabeth experienced a feeling of pride she had rarely enjoyed before. She considered her husband a fool and her daughter a disobedient demon, unable to control his impulses. It couldn't be said that she felt very proud of them, but she did feel proud of her slave. She was truly hers; her body, her fear, her shame, her modesty...; all of her, down to the deepest part of her person, belonged to her, and the best thing is that her guests knew it. What immense pleasure she felt! 'I'd give anything for her to be mine forever...' she said to herself.
—Cascabel: Go to the vitrine and choose a whip, the one you like most.
Eugene removed the blindfold from her eyes. Having done this, Claudine approached the vitrine, looked up, and examined the various torture instruments on display. Among them, she fixed on a rod used by schoolmasters to point out a specific spot on the blackboard and, in some cases, correct the wayward behavior of rebellious pupils.
Claudine chose this object; perhaps influenced by her relationship with school, and believing that if it was used on children, it would be less painful. She opened the vitrine doors, removed the fine wooden table, and returned to her mistress, who was giving instructions to... Eugene. Looking at the floor, he extended his hand to deliver the object to its owner.
--It's not for me; lower your hand. Choose the person you prefer to whip, Cascabel. Come on, Cascabel, who do you want to hit first?
Claudine, making an effort not to cry, raised her gaze and looked vaguely at the people gathered there.
--Okay, Cascabel; deliver the rod --said Elisabeth.
At that moment, Eugene and Fabián entered with a rather archaic wooden horse to which they had attached iron rings on the lower part of each leg, somewhat disproportionate for the size of the torture instrument. They left it on the floor and retreated. Claudine was so disoriented that she didn't even notice the entrance of that contraption. She advanced a few steps and, casting another furtive glance at the small group formed by four people seated in front of her, delivered the rod to the one closest to her who, against her nature, most desired to be chosen. Before accepting the delivery, the chosen one waited for her Ama's approval.
--Forward, Chloe --said she, smiling-- take it.
Claudine turned around and, as if seeing it in a dream, discovered the horse. Naked as she was, observed by those strangers, she couldn't help but shiver at the new discovery.
She approached her Ama and waited silently while still listening to the supervisor's harsh voice.
Elisabeth took Claudine's arm and led her next to the horse. Chloe followed without releasing the rod. Elisabeth separated Claudine's legs with her hands and inclined her over the horse.
--Fabián --said she, pointing to her slave--: hands and feet.
With this order, Elisabeth indicated to her butler that he should tie the slave's feet and hands to the rings of the horse. Claudine, as if she were a doll, let herself be done with. laughter among the group.
Chloe didn't flinch. Few times did she do so, even when being hit. The corners of her mouth, naturally fallen, gave her face a serious and stern look, as if constantly annoyed. Suddenly, she fixed her gaze on Claudine's backside, and without saying anything, lifted her arm with the whip and struck her buttocks; she did it with such violence that left everyone present stunned and barely out of breath from the laughter that had awakened with the joke. A couple of seconds later, during which a sepulchral silence reigned, Claudine let out a scream that made more than one person's hair stand on end. It was a scream so agonizing, so tearing, that even the stout man who was isolated in a corner of the salon, taking advantage of the fact that Claudine, due to her position, couldn't see him, approached to contemplate the damage caused by the blow up close. Already from afar, he could see a red line drawn on Claudine's buttocks; a line that changed the intensity of its color until it became garnet and mulberry.
Confused by her slave's anger and recognizing an expression of disgust on her hostess's face, Madeline got up from the armchair and, before Chloe could again show off her violence, approached her and stopped her.
-- Calm down, dear; you must control your strength. Two more blows like this one and we'll wear out the poor creature. We want it to last a bit longer...
Claudine was crying desperately. She shook her feet and hands in an attempt to flee from there, something completely impossible.
Chloe's jealousy had obscured the possibility of being punished if she didn't follow her Ama's instructions, but repressing her anger proved as or more painful than receiving a punishment, so, catching everyone off guard, she launched two new blows, one after another, with the same ferocity with which she had launched the first. On this occasion, as she furrowed her brow and pressed hard on... jawbone, left visible her anger. Claudine began to scream, and amidst her desperate screams, she repeated several times that they should not hurt her again. And Elizabeth, who was alarmed by the first blow, felt a cramp in her stomach with the next two. The slave's rebellion and her own suffering excited her as it had been some time since she was so excited.
'Chloe!' Madeline shouted angrily, 'I told you to control yourself! Let go of that now! Right away!
'Let her continue,' Elizabeth said softly.
'She'll be marked if she keeps hitting her like that,' Madeline replied.
Elizabeth gagged her slave with a piece of cloth.
'It will make a nice memory of today, don't you think? Come on, Chloe, ahead...
The three blows were followed by nineteen more, which, to the delight of those present, were executed almost with the same intensity as the first ones. This caused Claudine to lose consciousness.
Madeline had never seen her slave behave with such sadism before. She was surprised, and while the servants tried to revive Claudine, she wanted to know why her behavior.
'Have you been treated well?'
'No, Ama.'
Madeline looked at her fixedly; the other one lowered her gaze.
'I would say yes, Chloe.'
'Si, Ama.'
'Then?'
'It's strange, Ama.'
'Nothing is strange, Chloe. What you did and how you did it has a reason. If you don't explain it, I'll let the bell-ringer's slave hit you until you stop feeling strange. Do you want that?'
'No, Ama.'
'Well, then make an effort to explain it.
Embarrassed by shame, Chloe lowered her head and said:
'I saw that you were paying attention to her and felt jealous.'
In a certain way, the confession of her slave filled her with satisfaction, but she couldn't let it show, and decided to punish her. She ordered her to kneel behind the bell-ringer's slave and calm the wounds she had caused with her tongue. really wanted, Chloe got down on her knees, grasped Claudine's hips and licked the wounds drawn by herself.
That's it, said Madeline, parting Cascabel's buttocks. And while you're healing her wounds, I'll enjoy her precious body and, as a bonus, give her the pleasure she deserves.
Rising up onto Claudine's back, she leaned over her and, without letting her buttocks close, began to lick what they held in reserve with such modesty.
Although Claudine was still a bit dazed, she was able to thank them for stopping the beating; and although it seemed repulsive to her now what they were doing to her, she preferred it to being beaten. What she didn't know, nor could she imagine, was that she would prefer the beatings to what was yet to come.
Elisabeth, with the cloth that had served as a gag for Claudine and which one of the mayordomos had removed to revive her, tied her eyes shut. Then she gestured to the tall, robust man who had remained in the shadows during the introduction.
It didn't need saying; the man approached, unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his flaccid sex from his clothes. After Elisabeth ordered her slave to open her mouth, he introduced it into her. Once inside, it began to take shape slowly.
The rest of the group gathered around Claudine. Whoever had been awakened by the scene wanted to be a part of it too. Madeline moved her face away from Claudine's buttocks, told her slave to stop licking the wounds and, after caressing the battered buttocks with the palm of her hand and feeling the relief of the wounds, both of them stepped back into the second row, leaving more space for the rest of the torturers.
I'd like to propose something, if I may, said Mr. Boldt.
Go ahead, said Elisabeth.
Before we use her, wouldn't it be a good idea to make her walk the plank? he said.
That sounds fine, Robert, said Elisabeth. Eugene: bring the rope.
What a great idea, added Carol, as usual, with her mouse-like smile—. And... what if we tie her hands behind her back? —Fine —said Omar—, and let's leave the blindfold on her eyes. I also propose that we put pins all over her body, and an anchor inserted in her rear orifice to pull her along. —Yes! —Carol exclaimed — that would be very good. Before he could ejaculate, the man forcing Claudine's mouth stopped and stepped back, a moment Fabian took advantage of to free Claudine from the horse and tie her hands behind her back. Shortly after, while the group discussed how to torture Claudine, Eugene returned with the rope and, with Fabian's help, stretched it from one end of the salon to the other, tying the ends about a meter high, so that if someone walked between her legs, she would be forced to do so on tiptoes, or else she would burn. The rope was made of hemp or perhaps esparto, quite thick, and had many knots along its length, about a palm apart from each other. Someone thought it would be more fun if some parts of the rope were greased with spicy sauce, and even someone proposed rubbing her with nettle leaves; but fortunately for Claudine, the terrain around the house lacked this vegetation, and the idea was discarded. With the help of the muscular man, Eugene lifted Claudine and placed her on the rope, which fit into the groove of her sex. Elisabeth tilted her head down, pushing her by the back of the neck, to have the anchor inserted into her rear cavity. This consisted of a metal object shaped like an arrow, whose points were folded inward to facilitate penetration, and which, through a simple internal mechanism designed by Mr. Wallace in his free time and built in his factory, would open once inside. If someone outside pulled on the rope attached to the object... extreme, the points were piercing the inner walls of the cavity. Madeline was in charge of introducing the object, not without first sucking on the hole where it should be introduced, to continue exciting her slave's jealousy. Once introduced, she activated the mechanism that opened it and stepped back. Claudine, more from sensation than pain, let out a scream, Elisabeth then allowed her slave to turn over again. Carol and her partner were in charge of placing the tongs on Claudine's body, pulling faces of pain from her face. Now it was about making her walk so that the cord would burn her sex and the knots would hit her clitoris. To do this, each of the guests, except for Chloe and young Aidan, took one of the whips exposed in the vitrine. The first to launch the first blow was Mrs. Rose. She did it accompanied by a walk, foxy! that humiliated Claudine even more, and which, of course, made her take another step forward. And almost instantly, poor Claudine received the order not to stop and immediately received a terrible lash that marked her arms and back. Claudine began to walk very slowly to reduce the effects of the friction, but suddenly all the whips fell on her, and desperate, in a state almost of hysteria, she accelerated her steps in vain. When the pain of her sex was greater than that of the blows, she stopped. She bent forward and stayed like that, no longer caring what they did to her. The lashes ceased. There was a moment of silence. Only Claudine's labored breathing could be heard. Finally, she thought, they have pitied me. A thought that lasted until the moment she felt a pinch and pressure inside. Someone was starting to pull on the anchor and forcing her to move back. When, after a while, Claudine seemed to lose consciousness, they took her off the cord and carried her semi-conscious to the stocks. There they placed her and They used all their entries: women, with various objects, while men, with their members. Thus they had her near two hours; then the thing decayed and little by little they were leaving her. Never a woman was so brutally treated in that house. Claudine's aspect, once they had finished with her, was so deplorable that Elisabeth herself pitied her, so she ordered Eugene and Fabian to untie her and both take her up to their room. This is how the first group session of Claudine ended.
Injustice
Marie finished dinner and retired to her room, as usual, to escape with the reading of her books. After finishing Wuthering Heights, she removed from the shelf the book titled The Count of Monte Cristo, following the preferred order of her mental list. Next would come The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and then - here was a small confrontation - it would be the turn of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland. As she left the book on the nightstand, she realized that her mother's photo was missing. She looked around, thinking maybe a draft had blown it away, but neither under the bed nor anywhere else did it appear.
As she had seen her two small cousins rummaging around there several times, she suspected them at once. She left her room, nervous, and entered theirs. She took a look around, not finding what she was looking for, then registered the drawers and looked under the two beds, but found nothing. Disheartened, just as she was about to leave, an impulse led her to lift the mattress. Just there, underneath it, she found it, exactly as the children had left it. Marie picked it up gently. Her mother's face had disappeared, although for a moment it seemed to be looking at her from the paper, more alive than ever. A little later, it vanished. Marie covered her mouth with the photo, as if it were would be kissing and began to cry. Two small children pushed in, stopped abruptly when they saw their cousin in the room with tears in her eyes and the crime evidence in her hand. Unable to control their laughter, they covered their mouths. One of them ran out the door, and when the other tried to follow him, Marie's arm caught up with him by the collar of his sweater. With a nervous laugh, something hilarious, the boy assured that he hadn't done it, and before he could finish accusing his brother, Marie slapped him in the face. The boy went from giggles to incredulity, and incredulous, began to cry. His cheek, white just moments before, was turning red. Instantly, scared and repentant for what she had just done, Marie released the boy and asked for forgiveness, but without even listening, he ran out of the room. Marie chased after him, but stopped when she got to the hallway, because at the end of it, Aunt Rose was standing with her two puppies, looking very angry. Marie approached her and showed her the photo.
—Look what they did to my...
—Did you hit my son?!
Rose made an effort to control her anger.
—I'm sorry, Aunt Rose. Excuse me...
But before she could apologize, Rose turned her back and left.
During dinner, Rose told Marie:
—I can't say that my relationship with your father was especially close, since it wouldn't be true, but I still loved him like a brother of mine. Now, unfortunately, you are the only thing I have left of him. However, I think I rushed into the decision to let you live with us. I thought you would adapt; I had hoped you would, but today you've shown me that you won't. After much thinking, I believe it will be better for everyone if, until you're old enough, you live with another family.
Nothing could make Marie more desperate to leave that house. She immediately thought of the... parents of Darrell, as they were the closest to the family and those who showed the most interest in taking her in at first. Marie was about to show joy thinking of them, but restrained herself. Doing so would have been impolite and lacking respect towards her aunt, so she pretended to feel sad.
—Since, being my brother's daughter, I feel morally obligated to care for you and your future, I'm going to leave you in the care of a very respected family in this country, whom I can trust—
—But, Aunt Rose, I don't want to go to the home of strangers! Please, Aunt, the Tillmans...
—How dare you question my decision? Do you think I don't know what's best for you? I'm still responsible for you, and I won't let your education fall into the hands of a family I barely know.
17. Emily
Someone said that Emily was an abominable being. Certainly she was, although it wouldn't seem so to everyone.
Emily embodied vice, depravity, injustice, perversion; Emily was the unbridled, unnatural, unpredictable one; a wonderful being who found her freedom by coercing others'.
With permission, I'll jump ahead in time to tell a brief chapter from Emily's life, which has little to do with this story but will help us delve deeper into her beautiful way of being.
A long time ago, within a prosperous London family, a creature of extraordinary and monstrous nature was born, much to the dismay of some and joy of few. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wallece, baptized her with the name Emily. These, as they became aware of their daughter's twisted nature over time, instead of correcting it, fed it with an education based on the supremacy —through degradation, torture, and pain— of some people over others, especially those who belonged to the lower social classes. lower links.
This education, along with the lifestyle she had led for years, paved the way for the small one to enter the dark world of the prohibited and perversion.
The curtains opened, and the sunlight, radiant like few times it could be enjoyed in London mornings, colored the already dimmed furniture in the room.
—Good morning. Allow me.
Lord Richter, barely opening his heavy eyelids, let his wife, who had sat down on the edge of the bed beside him after drawing back the curtains, put on his glasses, and thanked God one more day for staying alive with her.
He met her at a party; four years ago, she was then a rather ugly girl, not very tall, too thin, with very white skin, dotted on the cheeks and nose by a faded streak of small freckles, which gave her an innocent and childish appearance, and an inquisitive look. He, at seventy-nine years old, one of the richest men in London, was struck by her when, at the party, she approached him without saying anything and offered him a crystal sphere while saying: I give it to you. It was my mother's. She always said that if you looked at it for a long time, you could see the future; but my mother told many lies.
And although they never dedicated a single minute to carnal matters during their marriage, the old man was showered with a large number of kisses, hugs, and caresses.
For a year, the young woman frequented the old man's house, during which time a very close relationship formed between them. She kept him company, told him stories she had read in books or simply invented - with an impropriety of maturity for her age - showed affection, shared confidences...; in short: she returned his youth to him. During that time, the young woman was experiencing a progressive change: physically grew (albeit slightly) and lost weight, its expression became less innocent, more serious and stern; and as for his character, it became more tempered, less impulsive and anxious, more calculating, qualities that were detrimental to a being lacking empathy.
After a year, ignoring the pleas of his closest relatives, they got married.
Lord Richter admired the beauty of his wife. She had skin as white as black hair was dark, and her pale blue eyes seemed like two ice chips.
—They'll bring breakfast in bed today —the young woman announced, combing her husband's sparse hair with her fingers—. How are you feeling today, Frank?
There was no response, as the old man had already been struggling to pronounce a word for some time; yet he tried again.
—Shhh... don't say anything —the young woman said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead—, I see that you're getting up with a lot of energy today. You look good.
Despite having become more distant since they got married, he was sure she loved him almost as much as he loved her.
—Emi...
—Shhh…
At that moment, the doorbell rang and Chloe, a young maid hired by Emily two years earlier, entered with a tray in hand. She had brown skin, large round eyes like an owl's, and a peculiar shadow around her mouth due to prominent lips.
—Good morning. May I...?
—Good morning, Chloe. Put the tray over there and close the door.
Why did he allow his young wife to serve him breakfast in bed when she was someone who so much disgusted him? The old man wondered, scowling. If only he could have exclaimed Get out and close the door! But Chloe not only closed the door but also locked it, an act that irritated and confused the octogenarian. Aware of the rejection she provoked in him, Chloe winked at him. Shameless eye. That scoundrel's gesture awakened Emily's laughter, and this, in turn, her husband's confusion.
—Chloe is not bad, my dear husband—Emily said, indicating Chloe, gently tapping her hand on the bed, which caused her to sit beside her—. She only obeys, and very efficiently, I assure you. I don't understand why it bothers him so much. He should know... hasn't anyone told him? No matter, I'll tell him... he should know that if it weren't for her, my nights in this house would have been desperately long and desolate. Why is he making that face? Already I see... he doesn't know what I'm talking about.
Chloe sat on the bed beside Emily, and the soft mattress reacted to her weight with a gentle undulation that made Lord Richter's inert body balance.
—I mean that when I'm bored, I call Chloe and we play. She likes obeying everything I tell her. For example, if I tell her to suck my foot, she does; and if I tell her to suck here (opening her legs and touching herself above the clothes), then she does too.
Chloe took the hand Emily offered her and sucked on her fingers with a libidinous expression. The old man was perplexed by his wife's bold and unknown attitude, and his anger began to mix with other sensations, such as fear or excitement. His heart was starting an unstoppable race.
With a firm, natural tone, Emily said:
—Dear Frank: I hate the way you look at Chloe. I'm going to have to punish him. Punishment is the only method for correcting human behavior. I know many methods, thousands of them, one for each person and situation. Using them, I could even make her sing. For good and for bad, we swore on our wedding day. It's time for the bad, my dear Lord Ridiculouster. Chloe: when you look at her like that, hit her.
Emily removed her hand from Chloe's mouth. Who, without prior order, got up, removed all the clothes she was wearing -- a coif, an apron, a bra, and panties --, fell to her knees in front of her mistress, put her hands under her dress, took off her panties, and kissed them. The old man's breathing became perceptible throughout the room. Even the sound of his saliva crossing his parched throat could be heard.
Conscious of the pain she was causing, Emily opened her legs and let the maid introduce her head between them. She leaned on the bed with one arm and guided Chloe's head towards her sex with the other hand.
Not even the warm rays of the sun were able to give a little color to the old man's pale face, who looked at the scene disheveled as the dirty Gypsy maid dived into the warm seas that his unrecognizable wife was offering him. What vulgarity, what impudence, what indecency those two prostitutes from the suburbs were, and how exciting it was at the same time, since one of them was not her beloved wife.
And if Emily was enjoying anything, it wasn't because of the humid massage she was being subjected to, but because of the pain it produced in her wealthy husband. That excited her, but not much, as all that was just a naughty game for children compared to what she really wanted to do.
She turned towards her husband and felt his member over his pants.
'Detain yourself, Chloe. We're not here for that. Bring breakfast.'
Drying her mouth with her forearm, Chloe went to get the tray and left it on the bed.
'Let's see what we have here...' Emily said, lifting the shiny, oval-shaped lid that covered the contents of a plate -- 'Look at this (lifted an object made of marbled ivory and phallic shape); it's an... a device to relieve tension and calm anxiety in women who are poorly screwed, like poor Chloe, who can't find a well-endowed man to console her. Instead, and although you may not believe it, my beloved Lord' Richter, it's she who gets me the men with whom I spend most of my nights. Of course! Doing that you're thinking and many other things more than I would ever imagine. It's time to think about poor Chloe, so let's leave her to enjoy today. Chloe: from now on, your husband is mine.
The maid, who was naked and smelled like a wet dog, got down on her knees over the old man's legs and pulled down his pants and underwear. The old man's member had a depressing appearance, and his eyes, wide open, shone with fright. Chloe sat on him and moved her hips, massaging it with the wet surface of her pubic area. At times, the member would slightly increase in size, only when her wild heart deigned to expel blood towards that place. Meanwhile, Emily grabbed her husband's hand and took it to the voluminous breast of her maid.
—Touch them; they have young and smooth skin. Or do you prefer to try them?
Emily doesn't undress.
—Open your mouth.
The old man looked at his young wife with wide-eyed, filled with fright.
—Chloe: make her open.
Chloe lifted the old man's face by the chin, and with her other hand hit him so hard on the cheek that one of his few remaining teeth was about to fall out. But the old man, scared, pressed his lips together with all his might.
Emily, calmly but without losing the firm tone, ordered Chloe to hold the old man's face, and while she did, she closed his nostrils with her fingers, forcing him to open his mouth to breathe, and took advantage of it to introduce the object through the base.
—If you don't want it to go down your throat, grab it tightly with your mouth.
And as the old man listened to the painful words his wife was directing at him, he watched with resignation how the exuberant gypsy woman with a thick and curly hair twirled around herself and brought her round buttocks close to the comforter. From that distance, he could perceive the strong smell of his groin, especially when he opened his buttocks with his hands to facilitate the entry of the object. From that perspective, the view was overwhelming: a lengthened object rose upwards from his mouth to the entrance of a malodorous sex, whose folds of brownish flesh, flanked by a dark and dense hair that extended beyond the anus, shone due to the fluids flowing out of its interior. And so unpleasant was everything for him as the fact that his wife, the artist of such a scene, remained seated beside him, immobilizing his head with her hands and smiling. Then, the same folds that kept him troubled began to devour the object, approaching without pause towards his face until they finally collided with it. He made contact with his mouth, and his anus with his nose, preventing him from breathing. While inclining his torso forward, he grabbed his flaccid member and put it in his mouth.
Struggling between pleasure and pain, Lord Richter felt his member tensing up.
The fluids of Chloe have a different taste. They create addiction. Come on, suck it.
He then turned her around and forced her to bite the object at its base. Guided by Emily, Chloe lowered her buttocks until she inserted the object again; this time, held in the mouth of the old man, who felt that he would soon release his last reserves of semen if his heart allowed it.
(Chloe came, and a foamy substance, similar to saliva, emerged from her vagina and slid down the object, penetrating through the corners of the old man's mouth. Breathing became more difficult. When the object was fully inserted, Chloe's anus took care of pressing against the old man's nose, causing violent vibrations in his member and more violent spasms in his heart.
It was almost over...
The old man's testicles swelled up, and Drops of pre-seminal liquid emerged from his member as his body reacted with violent spasms.
—For —ordered Emily—; I don't want him to come. It would be a very sweet gift for such a glorious ending. Let him suffer.
Chloe stopped immediately and, seeing that the poor old man was struggling to breathe, decided to increase her torment by placing her tongue where she had previously had her hand and continuing with this masturbation, pressing skillfully on the glans area.
The old man's eyes turned white, and he exhaled.
18. A walk in the city.
Emily, holding Eugene's arm, walked down a street in central London. They had covered the several kilometers that separated Wallace Residence from the city to make some purchases. As they passed by the gate of a school, she stopped to watch children running and playing on the patio. In one corner, she discovered three young girls blocking the path of a short-statured boy with rough skin and scared eyes. One of them, the tallest, pushed him against the wall. The boy tried to wriggle free, but one of them grabbed his hair and threw him against the floor. Then, another of the girls, the smallest of all, sat on top of him and immobilized him by his arms. At that moment, Emily felt a sense of joy inside her, an excitement that burned her stomach.
—Eugene —said Emily, admiring the natural perversity of children—: take me to Clerkenwell.
Eugene, cunning as he was, recognized the look in his mistress's eyes, full of such terrifying perspicacity, and intuited the reasons for her unexpected change of direction towards the city's lower depths.
—It's not the most appropriate place to go, Emily. It's dangerous.
The young woman tightened her grip on her butler's arm and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
—and that's why you're coming with me —she replied with a cold smile.
Of all the living beings that inhabited the earth, Eugene was the only one for whom she felt a kind of affection, an affection that... other side, very rare did manifest. —Yet, Emily, it is still dangerous. Returned to the car, parked a few meters away, and headed towards the Clerkenwell neighborhood. Emily, seated as usual in the back seat of the vehicle, gazed at the urban landscape without paying attention. She thought about the scene she had seen a little earlier, with children, and a final for it that was nowhere near the real outcome. —We've arrived — said Eugene, waking Emily from her daze. —Good, Eugene. Go slower. Eugene slowed down and sharpened his senses. Driving through this neighborhood worried him. Emily, on the other hand, enjoyed the landscape, poor and decadent, full of misery. She rolled down the window and perceived the putrid aroma that came from the streets. —If Mrs. discovers I brought her here, she'll kill me. —It's possible. —What will discover it? —Not; the other one. Several streets later, as they passed in front of an alley, Emily ordered Eugene to stop, since she believed she could distinguish in the darkness, lying on the ground, a poor vagrant. Emily got out of the car, ignoring her butler's request not to leave the vehicle, and walked up to the entrance of the alley. Eugene got out of the car, positioned himself behind her, and both could glimpse, almost at the end of the alley, what Emily had believed she saw and was looking for. —Convince that man to come with us — said Emily—. Give him some coins, and tell him if he does what I ask, he'll receive much more. —That man might be sick. —I won't touch him. Go. —Still, Emily. —Go. Eugene furrowed his brow and entered the alley. He reached the height of the man, looked at him coldly and kicked him in the side. The man woke up, hitting the bottle of Macallan whiskey that was standing next to him; and as he tried to stand up with limited success, began to mutter all sorts of insults and curses. Eugene pulled out several pounds from a small black bag and threw them over his head. The coins clinked against the man's torso and fell to the ground with their consequent tinkling sound. For a few seconds, that drunk looked at the coins in incredulity; then he picked them up one by one.
Do you want more? I'll give you many more if you come with me; thirty times what you have in your hands.
The man looked at him suspiciously.
My wife wants to use you, Eugene continued, pointing to Emily with his head—Concede her whims and the money will be yours.
The man looked at Emily, who was waiting in the alleyway entrance. In a flash of lucidity, that wretched person wondered why a young woman like her would be interested in someone like him. But the idea disappeared soon after, overwhelmed by a more powerful one: the money.
Eugene helped the man get up from the ground. He could barely stand on his feet. Eugene noticed the bloodstain on his clothes.
What's that? he asked.
The drunk, who was struggling to keep his eyes open, took a few seconds to respond.
A dog attacked me.
Eugene thought for a moment and concluded he should take him with him. As they crossed paths with Emily, the man, so drunk he was, only saw her feet. They got into the car and, after a journey of over two hours through roads that crossed towns and forests, arrived at home.
Before getting out of the car, Emily made sure no one was around the house, and gave Eugene instructions to take his guest down to the basement. To get down the stairs, Eugene had to pick up the man, as he risked hitting his head if he tried to walk down on his own.
And my money? the drunk slurred when Eugene left him on the floor, immediately closing his eyes. He had fallen asleep.
Wake him up, Eugene, and tie him, Emily said.
After a few shakes, the drunk was woken up, and as if he were a puppet, Eugene managed it until he immobilized him, on his knees facing the wall, using ropes hanging from an iron ring. He stripped off his clothes, leaving his back naked, and brought his pants down to his knees. As he did so, he saw something in a pocket and took it out. It was a pendant with a beautiful design in the center.
—This is yours —Eugene said, showing the pendant to Emily.
—Is it gold?
—No doubt.
—Where do you think he stole it from? Something tells me that his clothes have something to do with it.
—Most likely, Emily. We shouldn't have brought him.
—Why? We'll help this wretched man redeem his sins through suffering.
Emily didn't want to draw attention, so she decided not to risk going up to get a good whip to destroy the back of that filthy creature and rummaged through the multitude of trunks stored on shelves and in cabinets or left on the floor. She found an elastic band a short time later, closed, quite flexible and thick. She took it, passed it under the man's feet, pulled up his clothes covering his torso, and placed the band around his abdomen. She stretched the end of the band a few steps until she was very close to the wall. She made an effort to reach it but couldn't. Eugene approached and, with some effort, stretched the band until it touched the wall. There was an iron hook there, and he secured him.
—Let's give him a scare —Emily said.
She was about to release the band when she thought of tying some screws, three or four, to it with a cord. The man woke up. He emitted a few grunts, vaguely asked to be released, called those who had tied him up that way whores and demanded his money.
—Make that fool shut up —Emily said.
The butler took a roll of adhesive tape from one of the shelves and covered his mouth.
Impatient, as soon as the butler stepped back, Emily lifted the band off the hook. the nails barely marked the skin of the man. Emily was disillusioned. Then she grabbed a fairly thick rope and began to whip the drunk's back with it. But when, after a while, she saw that she wasn't getting any thanks for her effort, she got tired and asked Eugene to untie him.
—Let's get out of here. This is like punching a sandbag.
And like a sandbag, Eugene loaded him onto his shoulder and took him back to the car to take him back to the city. Halfway there, Emily ordered him to stop and leave him there.
Eugene grabbed his legs, pulled him out of the car, and dragged him to the edge of a rocky and steep embankment.
—Can I leave some coins? —he asked Emily
—My money... —the drunk mumbled with his eyes closed, without strength, as if he were speaking in his sleep.
Emily looked at him impassively. It would be hard to explain what she felt in that moment; perhaps an excessive hatred, the tender compassion of a mother, mixed with a wild surge of adrenaline; whatever it was, it led the little devil to take a coin from her pocket; the wretched man opened his eyes and looked at the coin, and when he tried to lift his arm to grab it, Emily threw it away.
—Go get it —she said.
And Eugene, quick on his feet, grabbed Emily by the waist and separated her from the wretch just as she was about to kick him towards the white and sharp rocks.
—By God, Emily! Have you gone crazy?
—Let me go! He's a thief! He'll be better off dead.
—But you're not an assassin.
—I make justice!
Eugene threw Emily against the ground, angry but still looking calm. The dust she raised quickly dissipated.
—What do you know about justice... —he said.
Emily, overcome with hatred, got up and sat down on the ground. Seeing her hands covered in dirt, she shook them off.
—You're just waiting to hit me, servant. —Emily stood up from the floor.— Come on, hit me, Eugene, the defender of the rabble.
—Do you think your hands are cleaner than hers? Look at yourself, Emily: there's nothing good in you.
—you're so weak…
—My weakness, Emily, is the most abominable thing that has ever existed.
—Hit me.
—I'm not going to hit you. Get into the car; we're leaving.
—I'm not going anywhere, stupid servant. I'm the one who gives orders.
Without making much effort, Eugene let out a slap at Emily that sent her back to the floor again. The young woman began to bleed from her nose. As she realized it, she smiled with malice. She wiped the blood on her hand and smeared it on her lips and chin.
—you liked it. I can see it in your eyes—said Emily.
Eugene approached her and held out his hand.
—that's enough, Emily. We're going home.
They got into the car and returned. At one point during the trip, Emily asked Eugene:
—Do you hate me, Eugene?
But he didn't answer.
19. Marie moves in with the Wallece
As they exited the car, two dogs showed up, exhibiting their fierce teeth and expelling a foamy white bubble from their mouths, showing their hostile character. Not even the wind, which was blowing so strongly that it lifted tiny particles of earth that hit against the vehicle, could chase them away. Marie got scared. With each bark, her body would spasmically shrink due to fear caused by the beasts.
The driver honked the horn a couple of times.
A little later, a butler came out of the main door of the house and, shielding his face with his arm, approached the car. He chased away the dogs at the cry of: Come on... get away from here!, and they immediately turned around and walked slowly away as if the cold wind blowing was imperceptible to them.
When they saw that the dogs had disappeared behind the house, Aunt Rose and Marie got out of the car after the man opened the door for them. door. Aunt Rose, quick on her reflexes, grabbed her hat before the wind could take it from her.
Protect your eyes! said the butler, raising his voice to be heard. This wind is the devil's own!
He turned around and went back towards the house. Rose and Marie followed him, covering their faces as well to protect themselves from the wind. Once inside, the butler closed the door, preventing the air from continuing to agitate the leaves of the only plant that decorated the vestibule.
Aunt Rose took off her hat and styled her hair.
It's been a while since I've seen you, she said to the butler. How are you?
I'm very well, ma'am.
I'm glad to hear it, Aunt Rose said vaguely examining the room for any defect that could be used to annoy the Wallaces.
Is there any news?
There is, ma'am.
I'm glad to hear that.
Do you want to accompany me to the salon? asked the butler, opening the double door that separated the salon from the vestibule. I'll inform Mrs. Wallace that you're here.
Aunt Rose and Marie followed him to a sofa in front of an open fireplace and sat down. The man went up the stairs. The salon, like the reception room, was an example of harmony, elegance, and cleanliness. It had a white marble table in the center where fourteen people could sit.
Listen, Marie: I'm not angry with you. In some way, I understand your behavior. I'm still getting used to the idea of not seeing your father again. All this is very difficult for everyone.
But Aunt, Darrell's parents...
Enough, Marie! We've talked about that many times before. I don't know anything about that family. I'm responsible for your education, and I consider there's no one better than the Wallaces to take on this task... a task that at the moment I'm not prepared to face. The Wallaces are a family of great reputation who can...
As Rose said this to her niece, a woman came down the stairs and approached them. Rose stood up and Marie instinctively imitated her.
—Rose... it's so good to see you —said the woman—. What brings you here?
Both women greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek.
—Do you know my niece Marie?
The woman cast a glance at the young girl.
—Is this beautiful creature your brother's daughter? Oh, poor child, I'm so sorry about her parents.
Marie lowered her head and blushed.
—I need a favor from you —said Rose.
As particles of dirt and dust were blown by the wind against the windows, a faint tinkling sound was heard passing nearby, which gradually faded away into the depths of the house, causing the conversation to pause for an instant. The sound disappearing, the conversation resumed as if nothing had happened.
—Of course, my dear friend! Let's sit down and I'll tell you what I can do for you. But first, would you like something? Do you want something, Marie?
—I don't need anything, ma'am.
—And you, Rose? Do you want something? Maybe some tea?
—Yes, thank you.
—Bring us some tea —said the woman to the butler—. Come on, tell me what I can do for you?
—I need you to take care of my niece and her education.
Elisabeth looked very seriously at Marie.
—Do you mean a radical education?
Marie, not knowing the meaning of that word, didn't see anything unusual in it.
—No, of type r.i.
—Ah, I see... it's white. Don't worry; I'll take care of her. Do you have luggage?
—Yes; one bag. The rest of my things will be brought next week.
Just then, a young woman entered the salon and saw Mrs. Rose accompanied by someone around her age, so she approached to greet them.
—Emily —said Elisabeth—: Marie will stay with us for a while. She'll sleep in the guest room at the end of the hallway. Do you want to go with her and show her around?
The butler arrived with the tea. After serving it, the woman said:
—Go to the Lady's carriage, fuck... Suitcase and lift it up to the guest room; the one at the end of the hallway.
—Yes, ma'am.
Offstage, the two creatures and the butler, Elisabeth asked Rose:
—Who knows she's here?
—Nobody. I'll say she escaped; tomorrow I'll report her disappearance. She mustn't leave this place ever again.
—I understand...
—I hate you, Elisabeth! You're a repulsive creature!
—She's a beautiful and white creature, and now she's where she has to be.
—Well, her beauty repulses me.
—I'm fascinated by it.
—I'd kill her!
—and I would too, dear, but... don't you think that would be a frivolous act? A show of ostentation. I don't know about you, but pieces like this don't fall from the sky every day.
—You're right, Elisabeth, but I can't help it. I hate her. It doesn't matter. At least...
—Yes?
...make her the most miserable person in the world, but don't touch her, at least not for now.
—Don't worry, no one will touch her. She'll keep her value.
—Thanks, Elisabeth —said Rose, getting up from the chair—. I'll call you in a few days.
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