A Girl Called 51

by Roger Clarke

  ‘Just what exactly are you saying here?’ Erica felt flushed and confused, barely able to believe what she was hearing.

  ‘I think I’m in love with you.’

  The candidness of the short sentence stunned Erica.

  ‘You’re what?’ she gasped.

  ‘That’s why I want your loyalty. I’m hoping you can learn to return my love one day. I could have you to myself anyway; I’ve spoken to the other controllers and it’s all set up. But I want your acquiescence first. I want you to want to be with me too.’

  ‘I…’ Erica was eager to agree; anything had to be better than living here and there was surely more chance she could escape at some point, but Grace stopped her.

  ‘Before you say anything, I know what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘Don’t imagine any freedom goes with this. I’ll punish you daily and you’ll be chained and bound just as you are here. I entertain guests a lot and you’ll be used by them too, men and women. Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’ll be lenient with you. Possibly because I love you I’ll be even harder, I’ll test your loyalty whenever I can.’

  Erica still wanted to take the chance. She had been in The Complex long enough to know there was no possibility of escape – but this would perhaps at least present her with an opportunity at some point. Surely Grace on her own could not be totally vigilant at all times.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, taking a deep breath, ‘you have my loyalty, Mistress. Test it now, any way you want to.’

  ‘I intend to,’ Grace smiled back. ‘Go and fetch a selection of implements from the cupboard. Things you particularly dislike.’

  As Erica walked to the cupboard, aware her choice had to be right or this opportunity could disappear, Grace unzipped her dress and slid out of it. Erica returned with a cat, a cane and a crop, all of which had caused her considerable pain in the past.

  ‘Put them on the bed,’ Grace instructed, then sat beside them and spread her legs wide. ‘Kneel, my slave. Kneel and pay homage to your Mistress.’

  Erica sank to her knees and leaned forward to press her lips between Grace’s thighs. She had done this for Grace many times before, but had never known her so wet, nor so responsive to her tongue’s darting caress. However after a few minutes Grace pushed her head away and stood up.

  ‘Go to the door, 51,’ she said.

  Puzzled, Erica stood and obeyed, and when she reached the portal she realised it was very slightly ajar.

  ‘Open it,’ Grace went on, and as the door swung wide Erica saw the usual morning business going on in the corridors beyond.

  ‘Now push it to again. Don’t close it completely or it’ll lock itself, then come back here.’

  Erica was more puzzled than ever. Grace climbed on the bed and lay face down, settling her cheek on the pillow and closing her eyes before stretching her arms towards the headboard. Her voice was gentle and relaxed. ‘Tie my hands to the bed frame, my slave,’ she said.

  ‘But Mistress, I don’t understand,’ Erica said.

  ‘Do as I tell you, 51. Tie them tight so I can’t escape.’

  ‘Are you a submissive too?’ Erica asked.

  Grace’s eyes opened to look at her. ‘No, I never have been and I never will be. Nor do I like receiving pain or humiliation. Now do as you’re told.’

  Erica shrugged and climbed onto the bed, wrapping one of the ropes that had secured her all night a few times around Grace’s right wrist before tying it to the frame, then she quickly repeated the operation with her left wrist.

  Grace sounded almost sleepy. ‘Push a pillow under my hips and tie my feet as well.’

  Erica glanced nervously towards the ceiling. Was this some horrible trap?

  ‘Don’t worry, there are no cameras on, nobody’s watching or listening,’ Grace said, as though reading her thoughts.

  The pillow had the effect of raising Grace’s bottom off the mattress, a perfect target for anyone of a mind to use it. Erica took the two remaining ropes and secured Grace’s ankles to the foot of the bed, spread wide and making her totally accessible. Then she stood, not knowing what to do next.

  ‘Um, what now, Mistress?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Have I ever been cruel to you, 51?’ Grace suddenly asked.

  ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Erica replied honestly, ‘very.’

  ‘Often?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress, often.’

  ‘Well, here’s your chance for revenge. Anything you want to do, go ahead. I can’t stop you and you have my word there’ll be no comeback. I won’t hold anything against you. Make it good, though, because this will be your one and only chance, a never-to-be-repeated offer.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘Or you could make a bid for freedom,’ Grace continued. ‘The door is open. My dress is there, so are my shoes. Maybe, if you have enough nerve, you could make it. Nothing is set up here. Nobody is aware you might try, but nor are they primed to let you succeed. You’ll just have to take your chances. But before you say another word, get a ball-gag and put it on me. That way I can’t call out to alert someone. Do it now.’

  Erica knew all too well where the ball-gags were kept, so she chose a large red one, pushed it into Grace’s mouth and tightly buckled the strap at the back of her head. As an extra touch she reached for the blindfold still lying on the bed and fitted that too. Grace settled down into the softness of the mattress and the pillow beneath her hips, and waited.

  Erica had some decisions to make. Cautiously she picked up Grace’s dress and slipped it on, zipping it up. Should she make a run for it? She had tried it once before and failed, but she knew so much more about the place now. Her chances of escape were probably still pretty slim, but if she could defy the odds and get away she could fulfil the revenge she craved. She did not care what happened to her after that – they could lock her away forever if they wanted to. But the tantalising prospect of making her stepfather pay for what he had done to her made the huge risk she was considering very, very tempting.

  But then, what about Grace? Could Erica afford the time to take revenge on her too, as the woman was tempting her to do? She feared it was a set-up that would surely end in her suffering, but since Grace was now unable to call out or raise the alarm Erica could use the very same implements that had been used so many times on her. Erica was feeling very bitter, still smarting as she was from her stepfather’s betrayal.

  She always found the cane to be the worst, so she picked it up in her right hand, moving to the side of the bed from where she could strike.

  One thing worried her, though. Why should Grace do this? Why invite pain and humiliation when she had just admitted she hated both? And could it be that the sadistic woman really was in love with her? She even wondered if Grace was the only person to have loved her in her whole adult life, since her grandmother died all those years ago. Her stepfather certainly did not, he’d proved that, and how could her mother allow what had happened if she loved her? Tears welled in Erica’s eyes as she placed the cane back on the bed and moved towards the door. As she reached the heavy portal, saw again the light showing through the narrow gap where it was still open, she stood still and stared at it, her barrier for so long.

  Erica reached forward and ran her hand gently across the smooth surface.

  ‘Damn you,’ she whispered to herself as she put her hand flat and pushed it firmly closed.

  Walking back towards the bed she unzipped the dress and let it fall to the floor before she climbed on the bed and pressed her lips to one of Grace’s smooth, naked shoulders.

  ‘I accept your ownership, my Mistress,’ she whispered. ‘I am your property. May I make love to you before I untie you?’

  Grace lifted her cheek from the pillow and slowly nodded. Erica knew it was only the rubber ball that stopped her smiling, but she did not want to remove it yet.
She settled down on top of Grace, pressing the length of her body into the woman’s naked back and resting her head between her shoulders. She was content to stay there for a while, enjoying, for once, tender contact without any of the cruelty that had become the norm.

  Erica kissed her neck, ear and cheek, and then traced butterfly kisses up and down her Mistress’s spine, dipping into the valley between her buttocks in a gesture of total surrender.

  ‘You are my Mistress,’ Erica breathed, and the realisation hit her that even though it was Grace who was physically helpless, it was still her who was being submissive. She let her hand seek down between Grace’s cheeks until she felt warm dampness and the excited bud of her clitoris. She wanted to suckle it, but could not in this position, so in a sudden burst of need she was scrabbling at the bonds holding Grace to the bed, unfastening them sufficiently to let one wrist free, pulling off the blindfold and leaving Grace to unfasten her other arm while Erica started at her ankles. Both sensed each other’s needs and worked rapidly, almost clumsily in their desire to have each other. When Grace was untied she unfastened her gag and dropped it to the floor.

  ‘Tell me what to do, Mistress, please,’ Erica begged.

  ‘Just make love to me,’ Grace coaxed. ‘No whips, no ropes. Not this time.’

  Erica pressed down to her again, their lips melting together in a passionate, deep, hungry kiss, their tongues searching each other’s and their breasts moulding together. They rolled, not caring who was on top, and ending in a head to toe ‘69’ position on their sides, their upper thighs raised to allow each other full oral access. Erica needed this – after her stepfather she needed honest love, honest lust; she just prayed she was not being played for a fool again, and for the second time in two days she was about to reach a real, shattering climax…

  Afterwards the languid pair collapsed back on the bed, exhausted, and Grace giggled lightly.

  Erica slid to the carpet beside the bed, still feeling submissive on her knees. Grace swung her legs off the bed and sat facing her. ‘Good, 51. I’m glad you didn’t see that as weakness on my part.’

  ‘No, Mistress, not at all,’ Erica said. ‘But may I ask a question, please?’

  Grace smiled again. ‘You can ask.’

  ‘Will the rules be the same as here?’

  Grace thought for a few moments. ‘Not quite, 51. You’ll obey the same rules in terms of requests to speak and complete obedience, but your obedience, from this point forward, will be to me alone. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress, I do,’ Erica replied clearly.

  ‘That does not mean other people won’t use you, but you will only obey them if I alone have instructed it. I warn you, though, that any attempt to escape or disobey in any way will see you brought right back here immediately. I happen to know that one of our Middle Eastern guests was about to buy you, and I don’t recommend that at all.’

  Erica shuddered. She had heard rumours of slaves being taken overseas to situations that made The Complex seem like a holiday camp, and she definitely did not want to find out if they were true. ‘Thank you, Mistress,’ she said, with growing sincerity.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For buying me. For showing me some love.’

  ‘Just don’t imagine it will buy you any favours, 51.’

  ‘No, Mistress.’

  ‘I think a measure of proof of your devotion is needed. Lean over the bed, and remain still.’

  Erica did as she was told, resting her breasts and face on the cool bedcovers while Grace stood and picked up the cane. Taking a position behind her new possession she struck hard and swiftly, six times in all, while Erica cried out with each powerful stroke.

  ‘And one other thing,’ Grace said as she placed the cane back on the bed. ‘I don’t want to be thanked for administering a punishment like so many of the others do. If you’re grateful after I’ve punished you, it means I’ve not punished you enough and I’ll do it harder the next time. I expect honesty from you at all times. If I hurt you cry, scream, beg me to stop. If I amuse you, laugh. I want honesty, remember?’

  Erica nodded meekly. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘Good. Anything you want to add, while you are permitted?’

  Erica nodded again. ‘Yes please, Mistress.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘That really hurt.’ Erica managed a rueful smile through her tears, and Grace smiled back, reached for her dress and started to put it on.

  ‘OK, wait here,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to do anything; it’s all arranged. You’ll be packed up and delivered, as is the tradition. Do you have any questions?’

  ‘If I may, Mistress?’ Erica dared. ‘Can I say goodbye to 83 before I go?’

  Grace looked her up and down. ‘No, you cannot. Firstly, it’s not permitted, and secondly, 83 has been bought already; by your disappointed Middle Eastern gentleman. She’s being packed for shipment as we speak. You’ll not see her again. Now get some rest; they’ll come for you in less than an hour.’ Grace slipped her shoes on and knocked on the heavy door, which quickly clicked open. She glanced back at Erica for a moment before she left.

  Erica felt euphoric to be leaving such an odious place, but also felt a tinge of sadness. She had a few friends here, bound by their mutual desperation and suffering, and she guessed she would never see any of them ever again. She lay on her bed for the last time and closed her eyes, wondering what the future would hold, particularly fearful for Beth.

  Chapter 14

  Erica had never seen what happened to slaves when they were bought, though she’d heard rumours. She had no idea whether her treatment was usual, either. Three men arrived at her door noisily, one telling her to stand while the other two wheeled in a trolley on top of which was what looked like a coffin. Maybe that’s how the girls were transported without anyone noticing, in a coffin in a hearse. She thought it was stupid considering Grace had said her house was in the grounds, but the controllers did like to adhere to their rituals.

  The man who had spoken lifted the lid of the padded box while the other two men picked her up and lifted her into it. The cream-coloured satin was cool on her skin as she settled in, the padding moulding itself comfortably around her shape. A strap was fitted across her forehead and tightened, and then another around her neck, with one at her waist, across each thigh, knee, ankle, elbow and wrist, until no movement was possible at all. What looked like a combination of a breathing mask and a ball-gag was pushed into her mouth and fastened over her nose, the pipe leading to some sort of hidden vent in the top of the box. Erica fought back the mounting panic as the lid was closed and heavy clasps fastened noisily in place. In her padded darkness she heard voices, but could not work out what they were saying.

  She became aware that she was moving, that the wheels on the trolley were crossing her doorway and travelling along the carpeted corridors towards the main entrance. She tried to imagine where she was and almost wished she could have gained the satisfaction of seeing those rooms for the very last time.

  The movement stopped suddenly and she was being carried. She imagined being taken down the steps to the gravel drive where the car would be waiting. She thought she heard the car’s door being closed and she certainly felt it start to move. It travelled for perhaps ten minutes before she felt it stop, and soon she was being carried again, up steps, judging from the angle, and into her new home. Her new prison.

  She felt herself being placed on something solid and unmoving, and waited for the lid to open; yet nothing happened. Nothing. Silence. No motion. She was alone, she was sure of that. Another test, maybe. Whatever it was she could do nothing but wait, and sleep maybe; despite her confinement she felt unusually relaxed.

  She had no idea of how long she slept, but when she awoke she was immediately hungry. The clasps on the box were being unfastened one by one. The light hu
rt her eyes when the lid opened and she clenched them shut against it.

  ‘Welcome to your new home,’ Grace said. ‘Take your time getting used to the light, and I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Erica gradually opened her eyes. The ceiling above her was a lot more classical than the modern sterility of The Complex, with ornate covings and a classic chandelier almost directly above her. She could not see any more of her new surroundings, but the light filling it looked natural. If this was to be her room was it possible she would actually have a window to gaze out of, and be able to tell when it was day or night? After years with a windowless room the thought filled her with the kind of excitement a child would have at Christmas.

  When Grace returned a few minutes later she was talking to a man whom Erica could not see, but was sure she recognised his nervous voice. Her mind tried to match it to memories, and all too soon she remembered – he was the man who had welded her nipple rings in place. She felt cold fear inside, wondering what torture could require his presence again.

  ‘I bought you a present,’ Grace told her, as if in answer. She was holding a velvet box, which she opened and tilted forward so that Erica could see its contents. Inside was a heavy gold collar, with small eyelets attached at the front and the sides. ‘I had it made especially for you. It’s solid gold, and engraved. It says, “51, property of Grace Roberts”.’

  Erica’s eyes must have reflected her question: how had Grace known she would agree to being her new slave, or did it matter? Grace reached down and removed the breathing apparatus from Erica’s face.

  ‘Ask your question, 51,’ she permitted.

  ‘How did you know I would succumb to you, Mistress?’ she said, her voice a little timid. ‘Or didn’t it matter?’

  ‘Yes, it mattered. I’d have probably bought you anyway, but it mattered. I’d not have given you this unless you’d agreed. I can force you to do anything, you know that, but that doesn’t mean you’ve surrendered, only that you’ve been compelled. This signifies your willing acquiescence and that turns me on immensely. So will you wear my collar, 51, permanently?’