The Facility

by Charles Arnold

  “Tell us who you are and where you are from,” Abul’s voice sent the old terrifying chill through her.

  She was silent for a moment, trying to gather the composure to answer without revealing how frightened she was. “My name,” she said, “is Katherine Ryan. I am an American.”

  “A wealthy American widow,” Abul added, “with a degree from a fine American university. Isn’t that right?” He never tired of showing that he had complete power over a woman who was rich, cultured, intelligent, and American.

  “Yes. My...my husband died recently. We were well off. I do have a degree from a good university.”

  “And you chose to leave your country. You chose to give up your big house and your soft life there? These were free choices, were they not?”

  “Yes. As you have said, I willingly left that life. My choices were freely made.”

  “Explain to us, Mrs. Ryan, exactly why you are here on your knees before us tonight.”

  Again, Kathy paused before answering, trying to select the words he wanted to hear her speak. “Quite by accident,” she began, “I met a man in America who I came to realize was the only man who knew what my purpose in life should be and knew where I belong.”

  “Who is this perceptive man, Mrs. Ryan? What did you learn from him about your purpose in life? And where did he say you belong?”

  “The man is you, Master Abul. You have taught me that my only reason for being is to serve. My place is to kneel at your feet.”

  “That is an acceptable answer, Mrs. Ryan. Still, it is nothing but words. Perhaps you can tell us how you hope to demonstrate your respect...your devotion?”

  Kathy glanced up at the dark figure of Mr. Satomi, then quickly lowered her eyes. “Before these honored guests I will do whatever you wish in order to show that my devotion to you is complete and unconditional.”

  “Good. I anticipated that you would wish to prove your...your...what is the word Madam Khe is so fond of?”

  “Adoration.”

  “Ah, yes, adoration. I have devised several tests for you, Mrs. Ryan. They should determine whether your adoration is, as you say, complete and unconditional.” He sat back in his chair and observed her for a moment through the narrow slits in his mask. “For the past five days, Mrs. Ryan, I have not bathed. Earlier this evening at dinner no one wanted to sit next to me.”

  He looked to his left and right as everyone except Mr. Satomi and Madam Khe chuckled. I informed my guests that you would do your best to rid me of those odors they found offensive. Yes, Mrs. Ryan?” He waited.

  Without raising her eyes, Kathy answered, “I will, Master.”

  “And how do you wish to begin this exercise?”

  Kathy knew what she must say and do. In a steady clear voice she replied, “I will cleanse you of all that might cause discomfort to your guests.”

  Abul had expected at the very least some hesitation, some sign of aversion. “Where do you wish to begin?” he asked.

  “At you feet, Master.”

  From under his chair, Abul slid a footstool and, as he had two weeks ago, he placed his filthy bare feet upon it. Kathy had been aware of a ramp that extended from the front of the stage to the floor. Pointing to it, Abul said, “Crawl to me, Mrs. Ryan.”

  On her hands and knees, she made her way down the ramp and across the floor until she knelt in front of the hassock. If anything, Abul’s feet were dirtier than they had been before. His dark toenails had still not been cut. Their undersides were crusted with black grime. She noticed, too, the accumulation of foul smelling matter between his toes. The rancid odor sickened her.

  “Look up at our guests, Mrs. Ryan. I want them to see your lips.” Kathy lifted her head. The light reflected off the glossy pink lipstick. She was aware of Mr. Satomi’s eyes behind his mask burning into her. Abul leaned forward, “Now, show us the tongue that is accustomed to tasting rich ice creams and expensive desserts.” Kathy circled her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “Tell us, what is your tongue eager to taste now, Mrs. Ryan.”

  Tentatively Kathy leaned forward and touched his foot gently, “I kneel before you, Master, and request permission to...to suck your toes until they are clean.”

  “And between them, Mrs. Ryan?” He paused. “I ask you again, between them?”

  “Yes, between them.”

  “But, Mrs. Ryan, my feet, as everyone can see are unclean, sweaty.”

  “Abul!” one of the men yelled, “you are my friend, but in truth, you smell like camel shit!” Everyone laughed as others shouted their agreement.

  Abul grinned at Kathy, “You see, even you must admit the odor is offensive. Am I not correct?”

  “Yes, Master, it is. But I am not offended. It is of no consequence to me. I feel honored to show my devotion to you in this way and...” She did not finish.

  “And?” Abul prompted.

  “Pressing my lips to your feet...touching you with my tongue, even there, even between...it...it excites me, Master.”

  “Show us your cunt,” Abul demanded.

  Obediently, Kathy pulled her gown up to expose her smooth mound. Parting her knees, she leaned back slightly and, with the fingers of both hands, spread the outer lips of her vagina. They could see that her pink folds were slightly moist but not wet. “Now, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul whispered harshly, “to your task.”

  Taking his left foot in her hands she bent over it and, as she had done before, slid her lips down the length of his big toe. She couldn’t help gagging as she felt his sharp toenail scratch the roof of her mouth. She sucked his big toe for several minutes and licked in the horrible space between it and his second toe.

  One of the women turned away, “Disgusting,” she said. “Obscene and disgusting!”

  “It is difficult to believe,” her male companion commented dryly, “that this Mrs. Ryan is a wealthy American who holds a university degree. And, my God, she is exquisitely beautiful!”

  “Yes,” another of the wives said, “even the poorest, most ignorant of our peasant women would not degrade themselves in this abominable way!”

  Kathy had moved to the second, then the third toe, carefully licking between them and sucking the filth from beneath Abul’s toenails. They are right, she thought, but to resist would result in something infinitely worse.

  “Enough!” Abul shouted and roughly jerked his foot away from her mouth. One of his ragged toenails cut her lip. Angrily, he shoved the hassock under his chair and put his feet on the floor. Kathy continued to kneel before him, her head bowed, a small drop of blood forming on her lower lip.

  “I neither saw nor did I sense your devotion, Mrs. Ryan. Our guests observed that you are competent but, I’m sure, they will agree that in your performance there was no reverence, not a trace of adoration. I also suspect that serving me in this way did not arouse you. Show your cunt again.”

  Quickly, Kathy sat back and parted her labial lips. The crease was just as it had been, moist but not wet. “I think, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul glared at her, “you are pretending an emotion you don’t really feel.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Go back to the stage,” he said. “Crawl,” he added.

  When Kathy reached the stage, Miko and Mi Jong helped her to stand, then led her back behind the screen. A string quartet, which she had not noticed at the far end of the darkened room, began to play classical music. Over it she heard the chatter of the guests as they were served drinks and pastries. Kathy sat on the stool next to the small table. Miko touched her bleeding lip with a stringent antiseptic before applying a fresh coat of lipstick and gloss. “Must not get infected,” she said.

  Mi Jong slid the gown off Kathy’s shoulders and tugged at it until Kathy’s breasts were exposed. She rubbed Kathy’s long nipples with a stimulant, which caused them to stiffen. Then, with Kathy’s help, she pulled the gown up and smoothed it over the protruding nipples. “They stay like that rest of night. I forget to do it before,” Mi Jong said.

  The women had worked qui
ckly so that in less than five minutes Kathy once more knelt at the edge of the stage facing Abul. With her appearance, the music stopped and the serving girls hurried away. “So, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul began, “we have agreed that your demonstration failed to prove what you had promised me, which was...” He waited for her response.

  “Devotion,” she said softly, “complete and unconditional devotion.” She began to feel that she could not win. Even if she did all that Abul demanded, he would argue that she was only acting, that her show of devotion was no more than a shallow pretense. But how could it be made to seem real when every moment intensified her hatred of him? Unless she could somehow become more convincing, she would certainly belong to him when this night was over.

  “Do you know what happens when you fail to please your Master?” Abul questioned.

  “I am whipped.” Kathy lifted her head to glance at Swart, who was grinning at her.

  “You have displeased me. Your demonstration of reverence was less than satisfactory,” Abul said.

  “I am truly sorry, Master. My only wish is to please you. Since I have failed this first test, I ask to be whipped.”

  “Seeing you whipped will amuse my guests, and I notice that Swart is anxious to mark you. I suggest you ask him, the creature you’ve chosen as your lover.”

  “I beg your pardon, Master, but will watching Swart whip me also give you pleasure?”

  “As you know, it always does, but especially when he whips you hard.”

  She turned toward the black dwarf, “Please, Mr. Swart, whip me. Whip me hard.” Miko had come up behind her. Mi Jong was lowering the leather cuffs that dangled from the ropes hanging from the overhead pulleys.

  “A few questions while they prepare you,” Abul said. “My guests are surprised that you selected Swart as your lover. It’s true, is it not?”

  “Yes. I asked to be permitted to go to his bed.” Kathy had to raise her voice since she now had her back to the audience. Miko was buckling her wrists into the cuffs.

  “Tell us how you made love to this handsome, dark skinned Casanova,” he laughed along with the others.

  Mi Jong pulled on the ropes until Kathy was standing on her tiptoes. As Mi Jong secured the cords, Miko lifted Kathy’s gown. She gathered it above Kathy’s waist and fastened it there with a wide leather belt that she pulled very tight, enhancing the flare of Kathy’s bare buttocks. “I kissed him...” Kathy began.

  “You actually kissed that horrible thing on the lips?” one of the women shouted.

  “Yes. I kissed him for a long time. I took his penis in my mouth and sucked it. I begged him to...to...fuck me...to fuck my anus and he did.”

  One of the men spoke up. “I simply can’t understand it. I honestly think you are the loveliest woman I have ever seen. Obviously you are intelligent, cultured, worldly...how, how on earth could you bring yourself to take this...this...mindless animal as your lover?”

  “As he was taking me in that way, in my anal passage, he gave me permission to insert his whip handle into my vagina. I came quickly. I came several times. After he was satisfied, I was beaten.”

  “You are a disgrace!” the woman shouted. “You are worse than an animal yourself.”

  The whip whistled and Swart’s first blow raised a long red welt across the firm white cheek of Kathy’s ass. She made no sound. Again and again Swart struck. Her feet were almost off the floor so she could not turn away. “Tell us what you want!” Abul shouted. Swart paused, waiting for her answer.

  In a hoarse whisper she rasped, “Harder.” Swart raised his muscled arm high and putting the weight of his powerful shoulder behind it, brought the whip down so that Kathy’s swaying body was driven forward. “Aggggh,” she cried in a muffled voice.

  Once more the black dwarf’s whip flashed and then cracked with the sound of a shot as it bit into Kathy’s flesh. Now, tiny spots of blood rose along the welts. At fifteen strokes, Abul stood up, “Is that hard enough?” he cried. Kathy had no strength to answer. After three more blows, she hung limp from the ropes. Swart turned to look at Abul who shook his head and sat down. “Enough,” he said.

  The string quartet took up their instruments and began to play. The serving girls came forward with trays of drinks. Swart coiled his whip and returned to stand next to his Master. Quickly Miko and Mi Jong released Kathy and, after Miko revived her with smelling salts, they supported her between them as they made their way to the back of the stage and the cover of the screen. Mi Jong unrolled a thin mattress and Miko lowered Kathy to it so that she rested on her stomach. Mi Jong lost no time in gently spreading the healing ointment over the bleeding crisscross marks. Kathy flinched and bit her lip. As before, in a remarkably short time, the intense pain subsided to a dull ache. Miko offered Kathy a steaming cup of fragrant smelling tea. “No drugs,” she said. Kathy accepted it gratefully. They allowed her to rest for ten minutes before wiping her tear stained face and reapplying the eye make-up and the lipstick. As Mi Jong pulled the gown over the angry welts, Kathy gasped.

  “You asked for, ‘harder’,” Miko reminded her. “Can see red marks through gown. Good. Men like.”

  They led Kathy to the front of the stage. As she got to her knees, the lights dimmed and the room became quiet once more. “Does the whip arouse you, Mrs. Ryan?” Abul asked.

  “Yes...yes it does.” Kathy said softly, not looking up.

  “Let us see,” Abul said.

  Kathy lifted the hem of her gown and, spreading her knees, she again parted her vaginal lips. This time there was a noticeable coating of opaque secretion. “Since the whip excites you and others are amused by it, I think you should be whipped often. Yes?” Abul waited for her response.

  “In the matters of my training, you are always right, Master. Yes, I should be whipped often. If seeing me whipped has given pleasure to your guests, I am grateful to you and to Mr. Swart.” She lowered her gown and tucked it under her knees.

  “In your absence I’ve been telling my friends about the badge you wore at your last appearance. If I recall, there were two badges and you wore them with pride to honor me. Is that correct?”

  The nasty smelling garbage with urine mixed into it...the thought of it caused a sinking and churning in her stomach. “Yes, Master, I did as you have said.”

  “Did you ever adorn yourself with such tokens to honor your late husband?”

  He knew that references to Jeff would be her weakness. “No,” she said, blushing, “that would have been unthinkable.”

  “Describe for our guests, Mrs. Ryan, your feelings about your husband. Also, tell them when and how he died. Who was responsible.” She looked up quickly, then lowered her eyes. “It’s all right,” Abul continued, smiling. “Speak the truth. Leave nothing out.”

  Kathy raised her head and looked out into the semi-darkness. “I loved my husband as deeply as it is possible for one human to love another. His death has not diminished that love. If anything, it is even greater now. Several months ago, he died near Washington D.C. as he was flying home on a commercial airliner. He was given a poisoned meal, although the fact that it had been deliberately poisoned was never known.” She stopped.

  “Who arranged to make it look like the airline was at fault? And, finally, let it be known now, Mrs. Ryan, who actually poisoned his last supper? Who murdered this fine man you loved so deeply and claim you still love?”

  Kathy bowed her head for a moment, then slowly raised it and looked squarely at Abul, “The guests of Abul should know that their host murdered my husband. Abul poisoned the meal and Abul arranged for it to be served to my husband on the plane.”

  “Ahh!” Abul shouted. “That is right. I took from Mrs. Ryan the one person she loved most in the world. It gave me much pleasure to do it , because I knew his wife would become mine. And so she has. You are mine, Mrs. Ryan, is that not true?”

  “Yes, I am yours.”

  “And you wanted it that way. You wanted to belong to Abul?”

  Kathy was silent fo
r a moment. Then, bowing her head again she said quietly, “Yes, I wanted to belong to Abul.”

  “That brings us to another test, Mrs. Ryan. Do you remember the last gift your loving husband gave you?”

  Kathy thought hard. It seemed so long ago. After a few moments it came back to her. “On the night before he left on his last trip he gave me a bottle of my favorite perfume, Chanel.” She tried to force the happy memory of that evening from her mind.

  “Move back a few feet from the edge of the stage, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul instructed. After she had pushed herself back, Miko appeared at her side carrying a shallow cast iron bowl. Behind Miko, Mi Jong held a beautiful wooden box. As Miko placed the bowl in front of her, Kathy saw that it contained a steel hammer and a pair of scissors. As a spotlight came up over their heads, Miko removed the scissors. Taking hold of Kathy’s gown where her left nipple protruded, Miko cut a hole that exposed the smooth pink nipple and the aureole. She did the same thing to bare Kathy’s right nipple.

  “I have always thought,” Abul spoke from the darkness, “that Mrs. Ryan’s nipples are one of her best features. As you can see, they are perfectly formed, quite long, a pleasing shade of pink, and uncommonly smooth. They also respond quickly and decisively to the slightest stimulation.” The guests murmured their agreement. Mi Jong handed Miko the box she had been carrying. Miko knelt beside Kathy and took from the wooden box a smaller one made of cardboard. She handed this to Kathy. “Open it, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul said.

  Lifting the lid off, Kathy cried out.

  “Do you recognize it?” Abul asked.

  “It’s...it’s...Jeff’s gift. It’s his last gift to me...the perfume. But how...?”

  “Miko took it from your house when you invited us there. Look under the perfume.” From beneath the bottle Kathy took the note Jeff had included. “Read it to us,” Abul ordered.

  Kathy’s voice shook and the tears formed and spilled down her cheeks. “To my beautiful wife with all of my love forever and ever...your Jeff.”