by Quig Shelby
She noticed the numerous vases placed around the floor. The one with a large goldfish motif caught her eye.
‘It’s my favourite too,’ said Hui.
‘They can’t be genuine,’ she said.
‘Do they not look Imperial to you,’ said Hui smiling.
‘Let me get Yi,’ he said.
‘Alain Fontaney,’ said Yi.
Alain stood up, and was immediately embraced by Yi.
‘Thanks for the swap,’ said Yi ‘I don’t have to drop any of my classes now.’
‘Yes Hui was telling us,’ said Alain.
‘And how long have you been ...,’Alain was about to ask.
‘Practising Kung Fu? Well it feels like centuries,’ said Yi.
‘I can only apologise for Marcus,’ interrupted Verity, but when she had something on her mind she had to let it out.
‘Over the vase you mean,’ said Yi.
Hui brought in a pot of green tea and cups.
‘What else can one expect from the Qianlong Emperor,’ said Hui.
‘You know?’ asked Alain.
‘We know everything Alain,’ said Yi ‘about Chien-lung, Heshen, Wa Yu, and you of course. Tell me what’s it like being a Jesuit priest?’
Alain and Verity were astounded. It was much more than they had imagined.
‘How?’ asked Alain.
‘We have waited a long time for the Emperor, Heshen, and yourselves to come back. We would like to return to our families, but that is only possible when events of the past are altered,’ said Yi.
Alain looked a little puzzled.
‘We must help save Wa Yu and the priest, and ourselves into the bargain. Last time our treachery was discovered, and we have been exiled from our homeland ever since,’ said Hui.
‘The vase has found the Emperor for us,’ said Yi smiling.
Verity knew Yi was her eunuch, and therefore somewhat surprised he had a family of his own.
‘My brother and his children,’ explained Yi.
‘Well I know who Yi is, but with all respect who are you?’ asked Alain turning to Hui.
‘I am the Emperor’s most favoured tailor. But wait, you shall see the role I was forced to play,’ said Hui mysteriously, and there was almost a look of resentment in his eyes.
‘You were wise to move Yi,’ said Hui.
‘Why?’ asked Alain. He’d done it on a hunch.
‘The psychologist Adam Blake is Jie Tang,’ said Hui.
‘Meaning,’ asked Verity.
‘Jie Tang was a rapist in the villages before he was captured,’ said Yi.
‘Then he was killed right,’ said Alain.
‘Correct,’ said Hui ‘but not before he had raped thirteen women.’
‘And how many has Blake attacked thus far?’ asked Verity.
‘Twelve,’ said Yi ‘and I saw the way he looked at you.’
‘When do you see him again?’ Alain asked Verity.
‘Tomorrow afternoon,’ she replied.
‘Cancel,’ said Alain.
‘And risk being readmitted,’ she said ‘not a cat in hells chance. Besides Yi will be around, and he is my guardian eunuch right?’
‘Right,’ said Yi smiling.
But history always repeated itself, and twelve wasn’t thirteen.
‘It’s getting late,’ said Hui.
‘You should be in your quarters Wa Yu,’ said Yi.
‘I’ll escort her home,’ said Alain.
‘Of course what else should I expect from the priest,’ said Yi.
Hui explained.
‘It was in your previous incarnation Alain that you put us all in great danger.’
The priest’s infatuation had left Yi and Hui estranged in place and time. Alain could understand the eunuch being in danger, but not the Court’s tailor. And how had they’d stayed around for so long? Unlike himself and Verity they were not reincarnations.
‘You’ll come to understand,’ was all Hui would say on the matter.
On the journey back Alain had his free hand all over Verity.
‘That’s it,’ she said ‘you’ve brought it on yourself Alain. I’m going to get that thing locked up.’
A shiver of excitement ran through his aching body.
Chapter Twenty
‘You’re early,’ said Verity.
It wasn’t quite eight in the morning.
‘I couldn’t wait,’ said Ivy.
‘I haven’t had my bath yet,’ said Verity.
‘I’ll run it for you.’
Ivy was wearing a short skirt, with the tightest crisp white blouse she could find; her nipples poked out, and she looked like a new mum.
Ivy held the warm towel as Verity stepped out of the bath.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ said Ivy and ‘so soft.’
‘Thank you. You’re not bad yourself, especially for a maid,’ said Verity smiling.
‘I like that. Is that what I am, you’re maid?’ asked Ivy.
‘No, I don’t think it will fully cover your job description. Let’s try slave instead,’ said Verity.
‘And can I call you Miss?’ asked Ivy.
‘If you like.’
Ivy finished towel drying Verity.
‘Can I give you a massage Miss?’ asked Ivy.
‘You know I’m already beginning to think I might have trouble replacing you Ivy.’
Ivy gave her a full body massage on the bed, using the oils she had brought along. Verity was floating in the clouds, but Ivy hadn’t finished yet. It was time to seal her appointment with some very special lip service.
‘That’s the third time Ivy. I can’t take anymore my dear, honestly.’
Ivy relinquished.
‘Come here my pet,’ said Verity, and Ivy lay next to her on the bed stroking her hair.
‘What can I do for my beautiful slave?’ asked Verity.
Ivy paused in thought, almost frightened to ask.
‘Don’t be shy, nothing surprises me,’ said Verity.
‘You won’t laugh?’ asked Ivy.
‘And why would I do that?’
‘Can you paddle me over your knee?’ asked Ivy.
Verity smiled. Was she going to be everyone’s wicked teacher?
‘I think I can manage that,’ she said. ‘But first, stand in the corner with your nose to the wall and your drawers down. Don’t dare move. Oh and put those hands on top of your head,’ said Verity.
Ivy was in seventh heaven, and the fun had only just begun. Verity went downstairs to get an old school bat; a souvenir from her university days, and used to tanning many a wayward young lady’s hide.
‘Come here slave, over my knee,’ said Verity.
It was pure theatre, with Ivy looking perfectly miserable; the only things missing were a trembling upper lip, and real tears.
Verity pinned one of Ivy’s arms behind her back, and held her legs in place with one of her own. Wriggling was anathema to a good firm lesson.
‘Do you know why you’re here?’ asked Verity.
‘No Miss.’
‘No?’
‘I mean yes Miss.’
‘Well which is it? Yes, or no?’
‘I’m not sure Miss. I don’t know.’
‘Well let me enlighten you . You’re here because you’re a bitch and a tease, isn’t that right,’ said Verity.
‘Yes Miss.’
‘And how many swipes of the bat do you think you deserve Ivy?’
‘Six?’
‘Higher .’
‘Ten.’
‘Ten? You’ll get thirty for that.’
And Verity began to count; often letting her fingers dwel
l between Ivy’s reddening cheeks.
When it was all over Ivy was wrecked, lying utterly subdued and submissive across Verity’s lap.
‘You poor thing,’ said Verity ‘let me help you onto the bed.’
Verity placed a cushion under Ivy’s red and purpling derriere, and went to the bathroom for some moisturising cream.
‘This will help,’ she said, rubbing butter cream into the two beautiful planets; red for Mars with the fleshier parts glowing like a purple Venus.
Verity had to explore, and Ivy let out a muffled whimper.
‘There, isn’t that better?’ asked Verity.
‘Much better Miss.’
Between Ivy and Alain, Verity hardly needed a house anymore, more like a dungeon.
Verity whispered in Ivy’s ear at the front door, before biting it.
‘Call me as soon as you need correcting,’ she said.
It had been a thoroughly pleasant start to the day, and now she had to get ready. Her own backside was about to get its comeuppance courtesy of a hospital tranquiliser.
Ivy was back home, looking into the mirror and dreaming of Verity; they’d talked of love and lovers. But how could she make herself more beautiful, more alluring, to please Verity, and gain access to all of her secrets? But more than that, how could she catch Marcus Forster’s eye, and get a share of his millions?
‘But it doesn’t say which side they gave the last injection,’ said the pretty but scatter brained nurse to Yi. Verity Forster’s notes were open on the desk.
‘Oh I’ll just give it on the right side,’ said the nurse.
She opened the clinic fridge, and removed the carton of small risperidone bottles.
She read the box and vial number aloud, whilst writing them in the notes, and including expiry dates. She left the prepared syringe in a kidney dish, and marched into the waiting room. Yi quickly swapped it for the one Alain had given him.
‘Verity Forster please,’ she shouted.
Verity followed her into a small room with a table at one end, and was instructed to bend over with her pants lowered. Such an indignity thought Verity; and she wore her favourite lace pants too. The nurse swabbed the area on her backside, pulled the syringe to check for any blood and, satisfied the stick wasn’t in a blood vessel, slowly injected. She covered the pin prick with a plaster.
‘Thanks Verity,’ said the nurse ‘you can go back in the room with the others, until Adam’s ready for you.’
Poor thing she thought. Like all the girls that caught his illustrious eye she knew Adam Blake was only full of hot air, and himself.
Leaning back in his seat Adam lectured how Verity needed to adapt her thinking and behaviour. Unfortunately the voices may never leave her alone; like his eyes that were constantly glancing down her top, or at her shapely thighs. Just as well her corset was at home, on the back of the velvet bedroom chair; he might not have kept his hands where she could see them.
Verity was still recovering from the indignation of her ass becoming a pin cushion, and wasn’t in the mood for his leering.
‘Are you going to look at my legs or notes?’ she asked.
Her voice remained soft, her poise defenceless; confronted men could quickly turn nasty.
‘Sorry, it’s the light.’
Neither did he want a confrontation. If was shamed once, it might give the other girl’s the nerve to complain.
He buried his head in her file, not bosom, hoping he could make up for lost ground, and leave her with a good impression.
He couldn’t, and Verity held her bag close. She had a rape alarm, and reassuringly knew Yi was next door ready, to tear him limb from limb.
In way she felt sad for Adam. If he’d been younger, slimmer, with hair, maybe she would have been flattered, at least amused. But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it?
‘Well I think we’ve covered everything Verity,’ said Adam smiling falsely, and with his eyes fighting from crawling over her body.
‘When’s the next appointment?’ she asked.
‘Next week, same time. I shall look forward to it,’ he said.
He was, and he wasn’t. She was gorgeous, sublime, and he wanted to smell her hair. But now she had the power, and that was not his aphrodisiac; even his hands felt limp.
He followed her swinging hips out of the room, until he could see no more. He stood up to close the door, hoping for a final glimpse, but she was gone. He thumped the back of his chair in frustration, and it spun around like a centrifuge in a lab. He’d wanted to pin her against the wall, force himself upon her; but the slut was playing hard to get.
Yi was in the clinic on his own, swapping antipsychotics for syrup. Alain needed more time capsules, but which maniacs would just be getting a placebo this month?
It was a shame Marcus was coming back tomorrow. Verity had never had so many adoring followers on her bed, since her days at finishing school.
‘So how did you get on?’ asked Alain.
‘A pain in the butt,’ she replied.
‘The injection, or the psychologist?’
‘Both. Thank god Yi was there. Are you certain he swapped the drug?’
‘Yes, he phoned me,’ said Alain.
Apart from their concern over unnecessary sedation, Alain was unsure the effects prescribed medication would have on his own cocktail.
‘Alain seriously: I don’t want to go through it again.’
‘And my pill?’ he asked.
‘If you’ll let me.’
‘Let you? I’m you’re slave aren’t I?’
Now who had said that earlier in the day? But she had to watch herself, Ivy had left her drained. Fortunately if Alain wanted anything it would be his bondage, pain, and who knows electric shocks.
‘What are you laughing at?’ he asked.
‘Oh nothing, I’m just in a good mood.’
Chapter Twenty One
‘I brought you back some chocolates,’ said Marcus.
They were Belgian.
‘How nice,’ said Verity.
‘Sorry I couldn’t be here for your first hospital appointment,’ he said.
‘It doesn’t matter; I had a friend cheer me up in the morning.’
‘Anyone I know?’
‘No. A friend of a friend from Treetops, she’s very giving.’
‘That’s good,’ said Marcus, checking his hair in the mirror.
Did it need dyeing, or could it wait until the end of the month?
‘Any luck?’ she asked.
‘Only bad luck: No one wants to pay the asking price,’ he said.
‘So it is the auction.’
‘Unfortunately.’
‘Is that a problem?’ asked Verity.
‘Only if Mr Hui sees it,’ said Marcus.
If only he knew, thought Verity.
‘I guess I could always bump him off,’ joked Marcus.
‘Really Marcus, you’ve already swindled the man.’
‘I haven’t swindled anyone my dear, I’m an art dealer.’
‘And how was Brussels?’ asked Verity.
‘The same,’ he said.
He didn’t mention his tiff with Jennifer. She was pushing for more of his time and money. He sent her packing; the world was full of prostitutes.
Verity was looking rather fetching, in fact radiant might be more appropriate. Whatever had she be doing with herself he thought?
‘I need to wind down in bed,’ he said.
‘I’ll see you later then,’ said Verity.
‘I thought you might join me,’ said Marcus smiling.
‘I’d love to dear, but after the injection I’m a little bruised on the posterior.’
‘Have you lost your imagination?’
‘For today,’ she replied.
Perhaps she was miffed he’d been away again. Maybe she knew he’d returned two days ago, and this time really was screwing someone.
‘I’m having forty winks then,’ he said.
‘OK darling.’
What a relief thought Verity. She couldn’t bring herself to sleep with him. Not after Ivy, then Alain’s toned muscles, even if she was only whipping him. She no longer wanted an out of body experience with Marcus, thinking of another whilst he groaned and grunted.
Marcus was undoing his sports car cufflinks, when he suddenly decided to check the vase.
‘Is it still there?’ asked Verity.
‘Yes. Have you looked at it?’
‘Of course, it’s exquisite.’
He did a double take on Heshen. He must be tired, but it looked like he was no longer in front of the moon bear.
Adam Blake couldn’t get her out of his mind. Those perfect pins covered in black nylons, and her demure almost icy stare. He should have ravished her in the office; no doubt she wanted him.
It was late at night in an underground car park. Adam hadn’t driven but he was hoping to get a lift. There were three cars and a van left.
She was carrying a briefcase, wearing a tight fitting pencil skirt with a side split. She wore glasses, her pretty blonde hair was tied up in a bun, and she looked like a legal secretary from the nearby law courts. She’d been to a party, staggering to her car. She unclipped her bun, and shook her head; the golden tresses cascaded down, calling him.
She dropped the keys to the floor near her car. She bent over, as he moved from behind the pillar; the slut was wearing stockings. He held the knife tight as he approached from behind. The woman was giggling, struggling to open the door. Adam would have no such trouble.
He put a hand over her mouth, heady with excitement.
‘Police,’ shouted a man covered in black, as four armed men jumped out from the back of the van.
‘Drop the weapon,’ shouted one.
‘On the floor,’ another.
He fell to his knees, but not in prayer.
Adam was cuffed roughly from behind, whilst prostrate on the floor: Such an ignominious end to his career. Though, in a way, he was glad it was all over. The beast within him had been snared, and would finally be caged. He would comfort himself with one thought; it wasn’t the real Adam Blake, but a monster within his soul.