"Exactly, His Lordship said.
She heard a high-pitched whirring sound. Then a sharp pricking pain, over and over on her finger. His Lordship’s fingers tightened on her wrist. She was sobbing with the pain of it, the sick whining whir.
The noise stopped. Her finger was bandaged lightly. His Lordship let go of her wrist and got up. She heard noises, and the door open and close. He came back.
"It is an altogether splendid tattoo, he said. Altogether splendid that needle in your flesh. And the sight of your beautiful blood. Bloodied for a second time. He laughed to himself. When it heals, they shall be very pleased with the sight of it. I am very pleased indeed.
He put the cream on her so she became desperately aroused, and took her over and over and over, until he could do no more and fell asleep pressed tightly against her.
They woke her up and put the hood over her head although her blindfold was on. They laced her into the corset so she could barely breathe. They unchained her from the bed and put the heavy thing she remembered around her, lifted her up, and carried her, slung over someone’s shoulder, the blood rushing to her head. Through a hallway, into rooms, down a long staircase. She thought she was going to be sick, she was so dizzy. They kept going down steps. Finally, she was put down gingerly, and they took the heavy thing and the hood off. She was sitting on the end of what seemed to be a comfortable wide chaise, thickly padded. Her wrists were uncuffed and attached to hooks on the wall. Then her head was pushed very close to the wall, near where her wrists were fastened, her forehead pressed into a padded headrest. A strap went around the back of her head so that it was immobilized.
"Are you comfortable? It was His Lordship’s voice in her ear, and his arms around her. He’d seated himself directly behind her on the chaise. Hogarth thought of it, he said. Don’t move while we make some adjustments.
After he got up, a panel lifted exactly where her face was. The air was slightly colder on her face. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Fingers touched her face, the unmistakable feel of his hot, dry fingers, caressing her lips. Then the panel came down.
"Excellent, he said. He was back behind her, arranging himself so she was impaled on his lap. She cried out in pain and alarm. Then, suddenly, he pulled away.
"Don’t move, he warned again.
The panel went up and his face was there. He kissed her hard then pulled back. Open your mouth, he commanded. She opened it. She had no choice. He forced himself into her mouth, until she gagged.
He came back, his arms around her.
"Excellent, he said again to someone behind him, except we need the hand. First they must see the tattoo; then the hand must be available.
He got up, and a few minutes later was back. She heard other voices. Her left hand was unhooked and moved closer to the panel. He was back on the other side, she realized, when his fingers came through the hole in the wall and grabbed hers so she could fondle him until he was hard again. Hard and implacable.
"Lovely, he said
That was how it started
On and on and on it went.
"You shall do as I say, he said Each one of them has paid a king’s ransom for a caress from your lips. Each one of them. Perhaps they are members of the Club. Perhaps not.
She lost count of how many times he made her do it. Dozens, hundreds. Time had no meaning. She had no meaning. She was disembodied; her hand, her fingers, her lips, there where His Lordship touched her. As a person, she no longer existed.
Nothing pleased him more than what he made her do in this little room. To have her wedged tightly in his lap as other men abused her, her lips around them while he whispered in her ear, telling her what to do. Sometimes as she was being strapped in he put a tiny bit of the cream on her and went away, leaving her to go mad from the squirming until he returned and he heard her beg.
That always made him laugh with delight.
Then he started taking her out of the house. First they laced the corset tight, put the hood on her head, and wrapped a thick cloak around her so she couldn’t move. Then she was carried through the labyrinth of hallways and stairs into a garage, into the backseat of a car. Sometimes the drives were so long she’d fall asleep. Sometimes they stayed in the car, waiting. The sound of gravel crunching, a driveway. The car stopping. There was no thought of escape. She had no clothes, no shoes, only the corset. They were all around her"they had to be. His Lordship was in the car; she felt him there, smelled him, although he never touched her. He wanted to wait. She was carried out, into a building. Through rooms, up and down, it made no difference. Their hands on her, the smell of them, the hideous feel of their bodies.
He was always there behind her, whispering in her ear.
"Who are you?
"I am yours, my lord.
One time, though, she snapped. The drive to the house had been bumpy and uncomfortable, and she was aching all over. His Lordship left her alone for a few minutes with a man who made her scream. She bit him, hard. She wanted to keep her teeth sunk into his odious body until he screamed worse than she had.
They took her away, back to the house where His Lordship kept her, but not to her room. A different room, down a long staircase and a narrow hallway. The farther they walked, the colder and more damp it became, and she started to struggle. It was useless. She heard a heavy door open. They dumped her down on a bed, took off the heavy cloak and hood attached the cuffs on her wrists to chains in the wall, and left. She couldn’t breathe in the corset. She couldn’t see.
It was the dungeon he’d told her about. The dungeon down below. She heard awful animal noises, the harsh sound of her sobs.
She screamed and screamed, but no one came for her.
They left her trays of food, and things to drink, but she had no appetite. There was a pail for her to relieve herself in. Nothing else. No light, no sound, except the awful animals scrabbling.
They were going to leave her in there forever.
When His Lordship finally came, it was the first time she felt genuine gratitude for his presence. Another person, breathing and touching her so she knew she was still alive.
"You deserved to be punished, he said You have made me very angry. Your mouth is meant only to give pleasure, not to inflict pain. Do you understand?
"Yes, my lord, she whispered. She had no voice left, nothing.
"Why are you here?
"To serve you, my lord.
"Did I give you leave to bite him?
"No, my lord.
"Will you ever bite anyone, ever again?
"No, my lord.
"Should you misbehave, you shall be left here in my dungeon for a very long time. Much longer than you’ve been here already. Is that what you want?
"No, my lord. She shook her head so violently he started to laugh. Then he pressed her down into the mattress and"
[Note from Tomasino: Pages missing.]
He didn’t let her out of the dungeon for what seemed like forever. Often he came in with someone else.
"Do you want me? he asked.
"Yes, my lord.
"Do you want him?
"If it pleases you, my lord.
[Note from Tomasino: Half-page missing.]
Finally, they came for her and took her back to her room. Never had she been so happy to feel a warm bed and soft pillows and a bath. Clean space around her. Books to read
They wouldn’t let her outside, though.
He didn’t return for a long time.
"Remember this? Hogarth asked. He came into her room, carrying what looked like a bundle of emerald satin. You looked particularly fetching in green.
"Why do you have those clothes? She asked.
"We’re going to a very exclusive costume ball, he said.
He’d used those words before. Before everything, before they’d tricked her. Before, in her other life, when she could think.
Before, when she was still alive.
Hogarth smiled broadly.
"It’s time
, he said putting the bundle on the bed then pulling the emerald and diamond necklace out of his pocket and waving it languidly before her. It’s been three years, my sweet. Time for another auction.
"It can’t be, she said. That meant three years had gone by.
"And since you’ve been such a good girl, His Lordship has decided that you should keep this magnificent necklace. An anniversary present, of sorts. After tonight, of course.
Then he pulled a smaller box out of his pocket and blew an imaginary speck of dust off it. He opened it and showed it to her. It was a huge emerald, flanked by two slightly smaller yellow diamonds, on a thick band of gold.
"Your wedding ring, he said. Or had you forgotten? It will be fitted soon, when they are finished with you. Tonight, they must see the tattoo. Only you of all our guests have been marked. It is a great distinction.
He snapped the box shut and went away.
She was twenty-one, with millions in a bank somewhere in Switzerland and a magnificent emerald necklace and now a matching ring. It meant nothing. She meant nothing. She was nothing"
[Note from Tomasino: Half-page missing.]
She didn’t know which was worse, the not knowing, or the certain knowledge of what they were going to do to her. She couldn’t think, though. Her mind didn’t work properly anymore.
There was the painted screen before her, the pole behind her, with its thick band pressing her up against it. The bright light in her eyes, the men in monk’s robes and masks at her feet, looking up at her hungrily. Their paddles in their laps, waiting.
"Gentlemen, Hogarth was saying. Some or all of you may have sampled the delights of forbidden fruit in private, thanks to the graciousness of our most generous previous bidder. Tonight, as you may already have divined, two of you will have the most unusual and delightful opportunity to have our exquisitely lovely creature"she who is worth one million pounds"bestowing her favors upon you. The vote has been tallied, and it is unanimous. The two top bidders, gentlemen, the two top bidders will be permitted to take her here, for one hour. One hour only. The shy and inhibited amongst you need not apply, naturally.
There was a low ripple of laughter.
"I take it that none amongst you is shy and inhibited? Hogarth asked with a sly chuckle. Very well. The bidding begins at ten thousand pounds. Ten thousand pounds, sir. Fifteen thousand pounds. Twenty thousand pounds.
As before, they took off her bodice, then skirt and petticoats as the bidding progressed. She wondered wildly if His Lordship was bidding. What they were going to do to her, what"
"One hundred thousand pounds, Hogarth was saying. His gavel crashed Excellent. You sirs, ninety-five and one hundred, may approach in five minutes exactly.
The screen was replaced and the blindfold wound tightly around her head. She heard furniture being moved. She was unhooked from the poles and pulled several feet toward where Hogarth was standing, then forced down on her hands and knees on a narrow, low table.
His Lordship was there. She could smell him, recognize the touch of his hot, dry fingers tracing a line down her spine, then farther down, where he rubbed a little dab of the cream on her. He dotted a bit on her nipples, then pinched them. She bit her lip not to cry out.
"You must do whatever they want, he said, whispering in her ear, his hands in her hair. You must do it because I am telling you that you must. You belong to me and you must do whatever they say and you must beg them not to stop. Because I say so. If you displease me, I shall throw you in the dungeon and leave you there to rot. Do you understand?
"Yes, my lord, she whispered
He kissed the tears on her cheeks.
"Gentlemen, Hogarth said, she is all yours.
After that, she stayed in bed for a long time. Someone brought her bitter tea. It was always bitter, the tea they’d served her since she arrived, but they made her drink it. Eventually, she felt a little better, and His Lordship came often. He wouldn’t leave her be. How he could keep at it, however old a man he was, she couldn’t understand. She only knew that he was insatiable. Sometimes they stayed in the room with the little panel in the wall for so long, one man after another, that they fell asleep on the chaise. Until he woke her and it started all over again.
On and on until Hogarth appeared one day and told her they were moving.
"There’s a war coming, he said. We’ve been in one place long enough.
She didn’t understand. She thought he was speaking in some cryptic code. Her mind was not working anymore. She couldn’t remember anything from one day to the next, except the sound of His Lordship’s voice in her ear and the feel of his fingers and the smell of the leather headrest he loved so much to strap her into so he could feel her and watch at the same time.
She ate the soup they gave her and drank the tea and a glass of cold, sweet water, and felt a profound lassitude overtake her. She could barely keep her eyes open as they bundled her up and carried her away, down to a garage and a car. They wrapped her in blankets in the back and she slept. They drove for days, it seemed. It could have been only a few hours. It didn’t matter that they’d drugged her and were taking her away to hide her somewhere more remote. Nothing mattered.
She was dead to the world.
He was never going to let her go.
The new house was colder than the other, and it was foggy and windy and raining all the time. When they kept the shutters closed she never knew if it was day or night. It didn’t matter. It was always gray and wet. There was a long terrace outside the house, and they let her walk on it and the grounds nearby. She could see a high, smooth stone fence topped with barbed wire all the way around the property. The house was large and made of stone and seemed to have many rooms, but she saw none of them save her own.
His Lordship soon came and stayed for what seemed like longer than usual. At first, he installed himself in the room with her nearly all the time, which was unlike him. He told her she could keep the blindfold off if she behaved. He did paperwork at the desk his back to her, while she read or dozed Sometimes she sketched with sharp, hard pencils, trying to teach herself to draw. Once he stretched and she caught a glimpse of something flashing on his finger. His thick gold ring. She wondered idly where her ring was, the one Hogarth had showed her. The one he’d said was her wedding ring.
Then His Lordship told her to tie on the blindfold and lie down. He couldn’t seem to get his fill of her. Over and over and over again.
He stopped only once, when there was a knock on the door.
"Don’t move, he said.
He got up, and she heard voices. Then felt his hand tight on her left wrist. Something cold was placed on her ring finger. Then she heard a whirring. Not like the tattoo needle, a thicker sound. They were doing something with the ring, but it didn’t hurt.
She didn’t understand.
He let go of her. The voices went away. He lay down next to her and picked up her left hand.
"You are mine, he said. You’ll never take it off.
He wouldn’t let her up. Not for days and days and days. It didn’t matter. She was nothing. Nothing but what he wanted. She was lying in the dark and he was next to her, on top of her, behind her. Savage one minute, caressing her the next. She had no idea what time meant any longer.
When he was there, time stopped.
Then he left. She woke up and he was gone. Her blindfold had been snipped off and the shutters were open. She looked at her ring. It was the huge emerald, flanked by two yellow diamonds. She tried to twist it off until she bled, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she saw that there was a radio on the desk. She hadn’t heard the radio in years, she realized. There were voices on the radio. Real people. In a real world. She could tell the time again. Five years since she’d heard a radio.
The world was at war and she was locked away from it. She wondered what His Lordship was doing in the war. Something as horrible as he was, most likely. And Hogarth. She could picture him in a crisp uniform, shining his buttons.
She li
stened to the radio, day and night. She had no one to talk to, so she talked to the radio. Her voice sounded odd, and far away. The servants in the house who fed her and watched her did not say a word to her. They worked for His Lordship"that was all she needed to know. Matilda, that was the name of the woman. The squat, ugly one who’d been stirring something, that night a long time ago. That first night. Matilda, who laced her into the corset so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Matilda gave her the bitter tea, and her meals on trays. The other servant was Markus. She’d heard Hogarth call him that one day. He was strong and he scared her.
She wondered if he’d been one of them, behind the panel. Or the man who’d said he would slit her throat.
They put piles of new books in her room, more sketchbooks, a palette of watercolor paints. One day they wheeled in a piano, and sheet music. Books that taught her how to read music, to play.
She almost felt like a person, sometimes, a person who was alive. She listened to news of the war and worried about the fighting and started to think again. Every day, she could think a little more. She started to try to write, with one of her sketch pencils, tiny, tiny scribbles, then words. Words turned into sentences. She wrote them on scraps of her watercolor paper, only a few at a time, because she was scared they were watching her, and then she tore them into minuscule pieces and swallowed them.
She was less fuzzy, wherever it was they were keeping her. Maybe it was the cold, wet air. Maybe it was because His Lordship hadn’t come in nearly three years. Not once. There must have been another auction, but she wasn’t taken to it. Maybe it was called off because of the war.
No one touched her. No one spoke to her but the voices on the radio.
Then His Lordship did come, waking her in the middle of the night, his hands all over her like a madman’s. It was pitch-black in her room, but he had his mask on, as always. He held her wrists tightly and put her hands up to his face. He kissed her fingers. Then he stroked her fingers down his neck, down his chest, down down down"
"Did you miss me? He said.
"Yes, my lord, she said.
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