by Leigh Turner
Max had extricated her holdall, and asked her to follow him as he opened the front door with a key, after walking past the outer double doors, which remained pinned back.
‘Take a seat, miss,’ he beckoned.
Sally was happy to do so, on a well-upholstered leather bench in the square hallway. The hallway alone was considerably larger than her parents’ living room, and accommodated a double stairway which rose above her at 180 degrees to the first flight, near which she sat. Under this upper flight one could see a junction of three corridors, one toward each wing of the house and a third leading further into the building, directly away from the front door.
Max put her luggage down and headed along this third corridor after asking her to wait. He turned into a door on his left and soon emerged again.
‘The director will be down shortly,’ he said as he walked up to her.
‘Thank you, Max.’
‘A pleasure to meet you, miss. I will see you again soon.’
As he turned and entered the same door, she began to wonder just what she had let herself in for.
After a couple of minutes, she heard the muffled sound of steps on the carpeted stairway. A moment later a large blonde lady turned the corner at the foot of the stairs. She was attired in a straight black skirt under a white medical tunic which covered her hips. Black tights or stockings encased powerful calves which tapered down to quite large feet in sensible black high-heeled shoes.
‘You must be Sally.’ The older woman beamed. ‘So lovely to meet you. We’re sorry you’ve had such a last-minute arrival, but don’t worry, you’ll catch up with things in no time. My name’s Jane Taylor, by the way. I’m in charge of proceedings here. Has Max taken your bag? I see not,’ she mused with a slight frown.
‘Max!’ She bellowed in the direction of the door through which Max had disappeared. Sally found the sudden change from reassuring smile to belligerent gracelessness slightly disconcerting.
The door opened and a young woman appeared, whose brown skin indicated that she was of mixed race origin. Stunningly beautiful, she could have been a model, although her body was healthily padded, more than the stick insects such clothes horses tended to be nowadays. She was dressed in a longish skirt and kitchen apron.
‘He’s gone to open the garage, Mrs Taylor.’
‘Well tell him to get back here, our guest’s luggage is still in the hall.’
‘Yes, Mrs Taylor.’
‘You haven’t been distracting him, have you, Lena?’
‘Certainly not, Mrs Taylor.’ The woman bristled slightly. ‘I’ve got enough on with tonight’s meal.’
‘All right, Lena. Get him though, will you?’
Nodding, Lena disappeared through what Sally assumed to be the door to the kitchen area.
While this interchange took place, Sally had felt the proverbial coin drop. Taylor was Nick’s name. This then must be his wife. She would have to exercise some care in any dealings with her.
‘I’ll show you round, dear, in a minute,’ said Jane Taylor, ‘when that dozy Max gets back. On second thoughts, leave your bag here. He’ll carry it up when he comes through. You’re in Room Eight on the top floor by the way. Come with me. Oh … Did you sign the contract on the way?’
‘Er … No.’
Jane Taylor’s face creased slightly in annoyance. A moment later Max appeared, contrite.
‘Max, her bag is here and she hasn’t even signed the contract.’
‘Oh no. Sorry madam, I’ll get it from the car.’
‘Don’t bother Max, I’ve got copies in the office, I’ll get her to sign in there. You really must get a grip. Do you know how the tests are going?’
‘Lena said they’re on the fifth.’
‘Excellent. Come.’ She spoke directly to Sally, ignoring the chauffeur.
Sally followed her along the corridor which went toward the right of the hall area. She was given a brief tour, throughout which Jane Taylor was sweetness personified, like a friendly aunt concerned for her welfare.
They saw on the left a sumptuous dining room, with a long table in the centre of the oblong space, immaculately set for dinner with fine cutlery and white cloth. There were eight places along it and one at either end, making room for ten.
Next, also on the left of the corridor, came a comfortable lounge with many soft chairs. This, being at the end of the house, had windows on two walls. Those parallel with the dining room windows looked out onto a large ornamental garden bounded by a low hedge, while on the end wall, the windows presented a vista of extensive grounds, ending with a wooded area in the distance.
On the opposite side of the corridor at the end of the house was a large games room featuring a snooker table. The room’s shape mirrored the lounge, its front window looking out on to the gravel driveways framing the lawn in front of the house.
In here were two people, perhaps a year or two younger than Sally. A dark-skinned youth crouched over the table, and had just cracked a red ball toward a far corner pocket as they entered. He looked up as they came through the door, the ball ricocheting around the table having narrowly missed its target.
In a chair near the window on their left sat a girl Sally recognised from the Psychology course, albeit the year below hers.
‘Hello,’ she said, in that tone one uses to convey a degree of surprise.
‘Hi,’ said the girl. Sally expected her greeting to be a little friendlier, since they vaguely knew each other, if only by sight. One is normally relieved to see a bird of similar feather, as it were, in a new and challenging environment. Perhaps the second-year girl was just a bit unsure of herself. Or was she very sure of herself and rather cold? Sally found it hard to decide.
‘This is Oliver, and Liz, two of your fellow subjects. This is Sally, who will be joining you; she arrived a little late.’
With a broad smile, the black youth offered his hand.
‘Oliver Agu.’ He spoke in a deep, clear voice tinged with pride. ‘Of Nigeria via Yorkshire.’
Sally smiled and was formulating a response when Jane Taylor interrupted.
‘There’ll be time for proper introductions later, my dear. We’ve got a little paperwork to do and time is getting on.’ She looked at Sally in a way that conveyed polite yet definite command.
‘See you later, then,’ said Sally chirpily to her fellow “subjects”, and followed Jane out of the room.
After passing a door marked “Library” on their left, they regained the hall area. Jane explained that they had come from the east wing and were now entering the west wing, as they passed under the large stairway landing. Here there were two doors on the right, both labelled “Staff Only”. On the left were two doors, in turn designated “Secretary” and “Director”.
At this latter, Jane extracted a key from her pocket and, opening the door, beckoned Sally to follow and take a seat, two of which were available near the window. Jane’s desk faced the window with her large leather swivel chair behind it.
‘I like this spot because I can see who’s coming down the drive,’ said Jane as she picked a document out of the top drawer of the imposing, old-fashioned desk. Giving it to Sally, she said, ‘I gather Nick explained this all to you. Read it carefully before you sign it, you’ve got time.’
Sally perused the document but there was little to it, other than what Nick had said. The main gist of it was that if they were to get to the end of the two-week experiment, they would have to do as they were instructed during that time. Any free will involved merely extended to walking away, in which case they would forego any right to the £5000 reward. Moreover, a gagging clause threatened that strong legal action would be brought to bear upon any participant who spoke about the experiment afterwards, whether they were successful or otherwise.
Sally was reasonably comfortable with all this. She was by now quite psyched up for some sort of adventure anyway, and was not about to turn back unless she sensed anything too sinister. The general atmosphere was secretive
rather than threatening.
Nevertheless, she had a question.
‘Just one thing …’
‘Certainly.’
‘Nick mentioned some sort of extra reward possibly.’
‘Oh yes. That’s a fair one. Well, there is a considerable sum available for the best and second-best students. But I can’t disclose how much.’
On uttering the word “best”, Jane raised her hands and, with the two forefingers of each, made the “parentheses” gesture, while smiling enigmatically.
‘So what constitutes “best”?’ said Sally, boldly if impulsively.
‘You will have to accept that I can’t tell you that, dear. The experiment is founded to some degree upon a certain lack of knowledge amongst the subjects about what is being aimed at.’
‘Oh. Well, OK. Have you got a pen?’
‘Surely. You have read the parts about all subjects and staff having been thoroughly medically vetted and being clear of any communicable diseases and infections?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that you will not suffer any lasting or severe physical harm as a result of anything we do here? And you are OK with all this?’
‘Yes, sure.’
‘OK. Good.’
She proffered a pen and Sally signed.
A long moment passed during which Sally fantasised that at any second the older woman would snap at her that she knew all about her fling with Nick, before summoning Max to drag her down to the cellars, there to be kept in chains for her sins, having signed all her rights away.
Instead, Jane turned on her professional beaming smile and spoke in a brisk tone.
‘Right, my dear. The first thing you have to do is a medical test. Then you will have caught up with all the others. They were on the fifth when you arrived and Liz is probably in there now. Can you find your way back to the lounge or snooker room? You’ll be called soon.’
‘Of course. Thank you.’
What was she thanking the woman for? Sally wondered. Manners were a strange thing at times.
Sure enough, in the snooker room, Oliver was now alone. They chatted amiably for a while. He was a Business Studies student, funded by his family in Nigeria. She formed the impression that they were quite rich. He seemed far more enthusiastic when talking about parties and discos that he had organised than he did about his course, her question about this latter being met by little more than a grunt.
He seemed likeable enough on the whole. Perhaps a touch of arrogance about him, but, hey, let’s wait until you know him better, she told herself. He was certainly physically attractive, his T-shirt revealing long, sinewy arms, with strong, pronounced muscles evolved more in the gym than in the lecture theatre.
The door opened.
‘Mr Agu, please,’ said a very tall, statuesque woman who entered. She was dressed in black pencil skirt and pink blouse, through which a similarly coloured bra could be seen, testifying to the engineering prowess of man, as it strained to support enormous breasts, 40G or more, thought Sally. Tan stockings and unnecessarily tall red high-heeled shoes completed her attire.
She wore, in Sally’s opinion, far too much make-up. Difficult to pinpoint her age, perhaps somewhere in the mid to late 30s. She had a substantial crown of blonde curled hair, worn in a bouffant style, tumbling in a perfectly coiffed creation of unnatural randomness, down toward her shoulders.
A pair of spectacles framed in a modern style with a subtle fuchsia shade completed the look of someone buttoned up, businesslike, and super efficient, which was probably, Sally thought, just what she was.
‘OK, lady,’ said Oliver, rather irreverently.
He was regaled with a terse, ‘Follow me,’ in reply from the woman.
They disappeared, leaving Sally alone. What had she got into, she found herself wondering yet again.
Chapter Four – Examination
Sally gravitated to the lounge, where there was little to hold her interest, just a couple of out of date Cosmopolitan magazines. She stared out at the grounds. Some spread! What must it cost to run and who actually owned it?
After an inordinate amount of time, the door opened and an elegant woman of about forty appeared. With shortish straight brown hair cut in a bob, she seemed perfectly groomed yet a little flushed, as though she had been running. This impression was at odds with the crisply starched white medical tunic she wore; calf length, revealing only black stockings and shoes. It had a zipped front, straight down, protruding slightly over what seemed shapely breasts.
‘Sally?’ enquired the newcomer. A faint accent was evident, the last syllable pronounced in a charming rising tone.
‘That’s me,’ said Sally brightly.
‘Would you follow me? It is time for your examination. I am Doctor Inez de Courtanze and I will be conducting it. We are sorry to have kept you waiting so long.’
‘No problem.’
Turning right at the hall, they walked toward the far end of the central corridor, stopping near the kitchen door. On their right, opposite it, was a door marked “Surgery”, through which they entered.
The doctor beckoned Sally to sit, and explained that all participants underwent this examination, it was routine, nothing to worry about.
The room was large, with various items of apparatus in it. Sally had little time to take it in before the doctor asked her to strip to her pants.
Doing so, Sally was then put through a standard series of tests, checking blood pressure, lung capacity, vision and so on.
She was then led to a treadmill, which the doctor set to a fast jog. Sally kept up with this for several minutes, eventually breaking into a sweat. At this point the doctor, who had indicated that Sally should address her as Inez, turned off the switch.
‘Now I must ask you to remove your panties, ma petite, for a final test.’
Sally did so and Inez proffered her hand for them, casually throwing them on the chair where Sally’s outer clothing lay.
Walking to her desk, Inez then took out a strange-looking device. It seemed to be all leather straps, yet with some pink object integral to it. Sally soon realised its purpose as Inez marched quickly over and clasped one leather band tightly around her waist. She then deftly manoeuvred the other strap around Sally’s front, passing it under her crotch and grasping the end to fasten it to the waistband.
Sally realised she was wearing a sort of tight thong, the main feature of which was the small bulbous pink object which belonged to it. It consisted of a thin two-inch dildo which sought to find its way into her vagina, with an auxiliary finger-like protuberance further forward, which now rubbed on her clitoral area. The tightness which Inez had engendered when she pulled the strap at the back ensured that the twin pressures would continue, no matter what position Sally tried.
‘Now chérie, run again,’ said Inez, pressing the switch.
Sally, lost for words, had little choice if she were not to tumble from the quickly moving treadmill. Inez picked up a remote control from her desk and flicked a switch.
At once, the finger part of the dildo affair began to buzz and twitch. It alternated vibrations with slower in-and-out motions, all the while bearing upon her clitoral area, where folds of skin began to move slightly, further stimulating her vulnerable pleasure button.
Gasping, Sally held the handrails tightly. More and more, she weakened and willed either machine to stop. Presently, Inez consulted the watch pinned over her left breast, and walked nearer to the treadmill, pressing, to Sally’s immense relief, the red switch which stopped it.
Now just the buzzing of the automated dildo could be heard. Freed of the need for physical exertion, Sally’s nervous system transmitted more of the delicious sensations it produced. She felt herself drifting virtually into a trance, any inhibitions at being naked, strapped into this lewd device in front of a stranger, having melted away.
‘Now, chérie, come with me.’
Inez showed no sign of wanting to operate the remote control, and instead led Sally
to another piece of apparatus hidden behind a small screen.
It was an upholstered seat, with a large backrest at a comfortable angle. Just under waist high, the seat cushion was customised in respect of two arms or was it legs? that stretched forward at either side of the main squab.
Sally was instructed to seat herself in this unusual chair, semi-bed, whatever it was. Willpower diluted by the relentlessly buzzing finger, she did as asked.
As she rested her back, Inez adjusted the angle of the backrest until Sally was most comfortable. Reaching up, she operated a control and a motor hummed as some rounded bars came around and descended from higher up on this strange rig.
‘Hold on to these, chérie. You will be more comfortable for the next stage if you support yourself.’
Bemused, Sally reached upward and grasped a bar at each side. Leather grips had been provided for this, around the chromed steel. Unsure whether she wanted the trembling finger to cease, Sally felt deprived of any decision-making capability.
The next thing she was aware of was Inez tightening a strap, containing her wrist where it grasped the bar. Walking quickly round, Inez took Sally’s free hand, which she had moved away upon feeling the bond tighten on her other wrist.
Though she offered a token resistance, Sally’s arm was overpowered nonetheless by Inez’s two. The elements of quickness and surprise, together with a vestigial faith in the habit of obedience toward a qualified person’s instructions, were enough to see the younger woman secured. She was comfortable, with arms raised at the elbow slightly, but helpless.
‘What’s going on?’ said Sally.
‘You will see, mademoiselle,’ said Inez, walking back toward the desk and picking up the remote control. ‘Would you like it to stop?’
‘I don’t know.’ Sally felt ashamed and confused as she heard her own words.
‘Do not worry.’ Inez smiled down at her, quite a kindly smile now, as she grasped the captive’s left foot. After she kicked a foot control, the two arms at the end of the seat cushion moved upward. Sally’s legs, resting on these, followed as they rose and folded at an angle, so that both thighs and calves were supported, held considerably higher than her trunk.