Some workers would allow their customers to make them suffer within limits. The customers had to be able to tolerate a watcher who made sure the sex worker was not harmed too much and they had to pay more, too…more than anyone else. Still two sex workers had actually died and a few more seriously injured before Albert could intervene.
It was the part of the business that bothered Isabelle the most. How could anyone enjoy being hurt during sex?
Not that any of them had much normalcy after the Earth Wars. All their lives had been irrevocably altered when the old governments had started slinging rockets around the globe. Only the most isolated places had survived and they were forever changed, too. The few survivors were thrown back into a much more primitive world. There were far fewer people, lots of disease, little effective medicine, no electronics and vehicles, no comforts, and little in the way of law and order. Lives tended to be short and brutal for people incapable of defending themselves. Anarchy was always cruelest for the weak.
As the wars continued every electronic device on the planet had ceased to work, destroyed by magnetic pulses. The world was literally thrown back to about the Iron Age in just a few months. The companies that had manufactured nearly everything had also been destroyed. The knowledge to make such things with their multiple steps, long travel times and needs for abundant power simply ceased to exist. No one could make steel or plastic, mine metals, run power grids, or do anything else most people had taken for granted without any knowledge of how to duplicate the processes.
Cars and trucks rolled to a stop, there was no refrigeration, there was no medical treatment beyond folk medicine, and horses suddenly became much more valuable. Of course average people knew nothing about how to care for animals, grow food or make anything that used to be manufactured.
Large banking centers and governments in the world’s largest cities were obliterated almost immediately. If anyone survived the bombs they died shortly of radiation poisoning. More isolated communities became bastions of a shaky civilization.
In the immediate area of her castle as much as ninety-five percent of the population had simply died off either from fighting, radiation or disease, The rest of the people were able to eke out an existence based on a combination of the ability to find or grow enough food and fight off others who would try to take it.
She had a place in this new world based on her hereditary ownership of a castle that had been in her family for a short time, having been imported by her grandfather to Michigan in the former United States. Her grandfather bought it for pennies, but the purchase had only been the beginning. It had been painstakingly disassembled from its original location in Eastern Europe and reassembled in the American Midwest as some strange hobby for her grandfather to play with during his retirement. It was a terrible financial burden before things changed, but it was now the most valuable of locations because it was defensible. Few homes or even towns had survived the wars, but the stone walls of this ancient, imported castle had stood against all comers so far.
Isabelle had skills like a knack for organization and the knowledge to manage daily life without the old conveniences they had lost in the wars. She also had a degree in agriculture and herbal and gardening knowledge, along with knowledge of animal care, both human and domestic.
She could also plan strategies that she never discussed with anyone else. There was no one she could trust completely, especially since her uncle had moved in on her and started acting like he owned everything that should be hers. He had come to visit her father. With in a few days her father was dead and her uncle had taken over most decisions.
The last four years had been a nightmare. Anyone who resisted her uncle and his men came to bad ends. None of his people feared any type of authority because there were no authorities except them. Isabelle could hide things from them and even help some people who got in trouble with them, but in reality she was as trapped as everyone else in the castle.
Her uncle and his rough guards had overthrown her without a fight. They had turned the place into a vacation destination/brothel. Isabelle was the one who really ran things. The castle had a capable fighting force armed with antique weapons, along with food, and homemade wine and ale, and soft feather beds and other comforts most places lacked. But she hated being a brothel keeper. It just happened that the world and her uncle found it her most valuable skill.
Amazingly enough, considering what went on at the castle many single women sought refuge in her home. They were willing to service the guests within certain limits. Life was way too risky for women in this new world. Even some men worked the bedrooms. Isabelle would not allow her uncle to force anyone into the sex trade, however, though it required her to nag him endlessly. Still many people seemed to see it as an acceptable way to make a living and they turned away more people than they would have imagined wanting the jobs. She set up a pay system and ran it herself and all the sex workers were good with it. None of them were interested in marriage and they liked the time off between “parties” when they could live more normal lives without anyone making them do things they did not wish to do. Other people in the castle could take on whatever work they wanted as long as they worked at something. Uncle kept most of the profits, of course.
One of the most difficult parts of her job involved entertaining the wretches who showed up at Uncle’s parties when they were not actually engaged in sex. What constituted entertainment in their minds usually required a bit of slapstick comedy, some sexual shows with multiple partners, or strippers. If she had ever had a sense of humor, it was long gone but she had discovered a book about Vaudeville that she simply handed over to a group of residents who had a flair for acting. They took it from there. If something was raunchy enough the guests usually loved it. Low humor, group sex shows, strippers and bathroom jokes were what they wanted. Castle residents had seen all the skits so often that they could quote them or perform them in their sleep.
Though many the residents were engaged in the sex trade there were few babies. The more likely consequence was disease. Live births of healthy babies were extremely rare. Life was too rough most places. Women rarely got enough to eat so they didn’t have periods or ovulate very often. Many men were infertile because of radiation as were many women. Cancer and other similar illnesses were everywhere. The birth rate was nonexistent. Even breeding animals, fish or poultry for food was difficult.
Cards and other games of chance also kept some people entertained. Of course the house, or in real terms, Uncle always won. He knew gambling and other games that few people could follow or win against his well-trained gamesters. Isabelle kept completely out of that side of the business, allowing Uncle and his cohorts to handle it as they wished.
Isabelle slipped into the dungeons through a small space between two large support columns, walked through a storage room and looked in on the people who avoided the parties on the way to the locked main door. Old Doris waited for her. She whispered, “That bunch of dirty old men are waking up and leaving finally. We should be free of them by early afternoon.”
“I’m relieved,” Isabelle said. “Everyone is getting restless and cranky.”
“Your uncle wants to see you as soon as possible,” Doris said. “I think he and that woman of his are hatching some plot. They are up to something, for sure. He’s never liked it that you hide so many people down here.”
Ironically many people were housed in the castle dungeons during parties, along with anyone else that found rough sex objectionable. Many people who had taken shelter at the castle had great fear of being used sexually, but felt safer than they did outside. She held the keys to the locks that were on the insides of the dungeon doors, not the outside. All the people who avoided the parties were expected to help with other tasks. The protection of the dungeons served as time for sewing and knitting. Adults were separated into groups to take lessons, do essential tasks, nap or even play games.
They had found wool clothing worked best in a world where everythi
ng had to be line dried, plus the sheep could also produce food. Cottons, especially things like jeans wore out too fast and simply took too long to dry. Many workers also did metal reshaping, repairs for furnishings and other tasks. Isabelle and her workers had gathered up lots of paper immediately after the wars and some workers spent time rolling wax and fat into paper to make logs for heating fires and cooking.
Most of the people who served the party guests upstairs were older and unafraid of the guests and their sometimes, perverted demands. There was a cooking area that served both the dungeons and the guests.
“I assumed he would summon me immediately after the guests started leaving. Nothing new in that,” Isabelle said. “I get really tired of his demands and his whining. I’m running this place and making him a lot of money. He has to put up with me if he wants the income.” Her uncle tolerated her out of laziness. She and her friends did all the work and he reaped all the benefits.
“But, it’s your place, not his. We were fine until he came and you were a respectable woman with a career. You might even have found love again after your fiancé died.”
“Ah, but Doris, I don’t want to marry some man who will abuse me and rule me. That’s all we see here. Their so scummy, I don’t want to marry at all.”
Doris looked at her and shook her head. “You have only seen the bad stuff about men. Albert and I are married and relatively happy, even working in this place as it is now. With the right man you might be happy, too. Your uncle is just using you and all the rest of us, too.”
“You and Albert are really lucky. If I could find a man with his qualities I might marry, but I can’t imagine that ever happening for a brothel manager, can you? As things are, even as bad as Uncle is, ‘better the devil we know.’” Isabelle said as she unlocked the door and headed for the stairs.
Chapter 5
Isabelle walked into the great hall and was pleased to see cleanup was already well underway. Albert had things under control. He was a rough looking man, but he was just right for the task he had ended up with after her father’s death. It was a comedown for both of them to be occupied with running Uncle’s brothel. Albert was made for finer things but life did tend to bring surprises. He managed just as Isabelle did, without complaining. He looked nearly as tough as he actually was, so the guests generally left him alone, but he also knew how to clean up after the visitors, hogs that they were. He was a former military man and he and Doris had seen the world before he retired after 20 years. He still had capabilities though he was no longer young. He and his men could impose order when necessary and he could clean up the place afterwards. Isabelle hated to see blood or various leftover bodily fluids drying on the furniture, walls and floors.
“Your uncle wants you,” Albert said.
“I heard,” she told him. “I’m on my way now.”
She started up the stone steps as she spoke, hurrying so that her uncle might not take out his irritation on someone else, as he was prone to do.
She knocked on the door of her uncle’s room and waited impatiently for his permission to enter.
“Isabelle, is that you? Why have you kept us waiting so long?” Her uncle sounded sort of weird, not drunk, but excited in some prurient way. It made Isabelle very wary and more than a bit frightened.
Isabelle stepped into the room but stayed near the door. Her uncle and his woman were mostly naked and piled up in the bed together like a couple of pigs. They smelled, too, worse than pigs. Maybe like something rotting. It grossed her out to be in the room with them. The girlfriend had only been around a short time. Her name was Angela, but a less angelic woman never existed. Isabelle usually examined potential workers for signs of disease but Angela had been installed in Uncle’s bedroom before she’d had the examination. It was too late now. What would be would be without her interference. Isabelle was just as glad the decision was not hers to make.
Uncle and the woman were giggling and shifting in the bed. It made her even more nervous.
Uncle turned the woman over on her back and ran his hand over her swollen abdomen.
“Do you see this?” he asked. Without waiting for Isabelle’s reply he went on, “She’s pregnant with my son. I will soon be free of you. Angela can run the household and do it better than you ever have.” He smiled as he took in Isabelle’s appalled expression.
Not that Isabelle noticed. She was seeing one of those creepy visions she saw occasionally. It was a precursor of death that had always been eerily correct in her experience. She had never had such visions until after the Earth Wars. It never came into effect except when people were ill and dying. It didn’t happen before accidents or murders or any of a myriad of ways people might accidentally or suddenly die. It only happened when people were sick, often with some deadly disease.
Angela’s face was a smiling death head, like a skeleton.
It unnerved Isabelle nearly past bearing. She had never told anyone what she sometimes saw. It was too weird. She did not know how people would react, so she kept it to herself, but it was both painful and frightening.
Her uncle continued, “I have arranged a marriage for you. A messenger arrived last night from your future husband. I put him in the room with Glory. Haven’t seen either of them since.”
But Isabelle had. They were the couple she had seen less than an hour ago having sex and looking like it was a real pleasure.
Someone knocked on her uncle’s door. He shouted for them to enter. Two of his guards came into the room in moments and they latched onto her arms on either side of her.
Her uncle explained, “You will be held under guard in your rooms until you are married. His glance wandered from her to the guards. “Leave us and guard her well.”
“When will I meet him?” Isabelle asked as calmly as she could manage.
“He’ll join us for dinner tonight,” he said with a smirk. Angela laughed, too. “He’s really big and scary. I’m sure he’ll show you a good time.” He ended the statements with mocking laughter that chilled her.
Isabelle refused to lower herself to fight the guards, besides she needed time alone to think. She was not going to abandon the people she really worked for, the ones who needed her to care for them. She could leave the room…and the castle if she wanted, but it would mean disaster for most people who depended on her. The other problem she recognized, the one that had kept her here from the beginning was where would she go? She had no friends beyond the gates of this place. No one except herself could protect her from the environmental hazards, a small fighting force or a couple of men with ill intent. Such extreme vulnerability was unacceptable. It would likely be suicidal for her to leave alone. She was not that self-destructive…not yet anyway.
Her best strategy was to stay and see what the man was like who might rid her of her uncle or take her from this place if she decided to go with him. She suddenly realized her time had run out. She was getting married.
She shivered at the thought. She had never wanted marriage since the wars. Being married meant being chattel. Being married meant losing one’s independence. It meant she might spend the rest of her life in misery, living with a spouse she hated and could barely tolerate. She considered running away. It did seem cold hearted to think of abandoning her people, but the world was a dangerous place. It might or might not be worse for her and her people if she was gone. The problem was that she knew for sure it would be worse for the younger residents in the castle if she left. But what could she do to control what might happen? Her resources were limited. She walked to her bed and reclined, intending to think. But she had been over the same thoughts so many times it did nothing but depress her. Nothing new occurred to her so she slept instead. Party weekends were a lot of work and she was more tired than she realized, plus she felt both more depressed and defeated than she ever had before.
She woke when she began to hear the preparations for dinner. The tables were being set and people were gathering in the great hall.
She stood up and
walked to her dresser. She washed her face in a basin of cold water, brushed out her long hair and re-braided it into her usual tight bun. Her concerns were reflected in her grim visage and she avoided looking at herself in the mirror any more than necessary. She did not change her clothing. She was careful to appear plain and to hide her figure in nondescript clothing. She wore baggy, dark pants and a long sleeved blouse covered by a natural colored knitted wool tunic that fell loosely to her knees.
Shortly after she finished she heard the lock click open at her door. A brisk knock sounded and then her uncle’s main guard Luther stepped into the room. He was a cruel man with a florid complexion, reddish blond hair and rough ways.
“Dinner is waiting,” he said.
She walked toward the door without answering him. He stood in her way so she stopped as she neared the door. He threatened her regularly, but so far he had only hurt her, not raped her. She was smart enough to fear him, though. She had always been afraid of him and he nurtured her fear at every opportunity.
“You could have had me,” he said, reaching for her. She got her hands between them and pushed at his bulky shoulders. She fought her way clear while he put his hands in a bunch of places where she did not want them, pinching and groping her rudely which seemed to be his way with women. It was weird he thought he was such an attractive man when really he was both rude and abusive on top of being famous for his roughness. He smiled seeming delighted to give her his clumsy brand of flirting.
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