“No hands for you, my girl. You make a beautiful picture the way you are. Right now you’d be a glorious subject for a camera. Don’t you dare get up.”
I didn’t want to get up, I didn’t want to move at all, but was content to kneel as if in homage to the man who’s eyes, less fierce than usual, was devouring my nakedness, the nakedness which I could not hide, and which, no doubt, belonged to Andrew Everleigh. I asked weakly, “Please don’t have me punished anymore. I’ve had enough.” Once more I bowed my head.
A silence grew, a silence in which I could feel Andrew Everleigh’s satisfaction with my condition but saw within my own mind a vision of my nakedness stretched tautly for the whip and several other assorted horrors. At that moment I would have found the solitude of the dungeon and chains a merciful blessing. I never wanted to see a man again.
“I intend to marry you, Diane,” said Andrew Everleigh.
I was jolted! I heard a voice from far away say, hopelessly, “You can’t marry me, I’m going to marry Hugo Markham.”
“Like hell you are!” Andrew Everleigh did not even raise his voice.
“Hugo and I have had an understanding for a long time. I thought you knew.”
“Understand, my arse!” Everleigh said coarsely. “That boy has never owned you the way I own you. Don’t tell me you’ve failed to guess why I bothered with such a contentious bitch?” He eyed me. “I’m not sure I understand why myself. You need your ass whipped at least once a week to keep you from reverting to torts, and statements of claim. But that can easily be arranged, along with any other disciplines you earn. I hope you’re flattered.”
Damn this impossible man! I actually did feel flattered in the way he took for granted. Married to Andrew Everleigh, I’d become one of the richest women in the world. I could well believe a multitude of young women would gladly suffer the permanent pains of sitting down as a small price to pay for the privilege of being rich. In evasion, I demanded, “Do you have to keep staring at my pubic hair?”
“It’s not your pubic hair, my gal, it belongs to me, and I’ll look at it as often as I like. I’ll keep you naked after our wedding long enough to get you properly adjusted to me looking at any bit of you I want. Is that clear?”
“I don’t believe any of this, it can’t be happening. If you ever did get me to the altar, you’d have to tie me tight and whip me into saying yes. I’m sure that won’t happen.”
“It can be easily arranged, if thats the way you want it.” Uncle Andrew chuckled. Then his voice became less stern, “But that’s not going to happen tomorrow. I’ve got several jobs for you to do first.”
Any bit of euphoria I felt vanished right there. Uncle Andrew’s ‘little jobs’ would almost certainly be painful, and the last thing I wanted at that moment was any more of the outrageous notions men have about what they want to do to females. When I was much younger I used to suppose a girl’s ultimate joy or degradation lay up inside the soft spot between her thighs. But Hugo and Uncle Andrew had shown me this was but a prelude to the main events, the last of which had placed me here upon my knees in shameful humility. I asked. “I don’t see why you bother with me. You’ve got a great big cage filled with girls much younger and more beautiful than I, and there’s those other girls on Plessious I expect Naomi would allow you to play with, should you chose. Compared to those little tricks at Rockley. I’m ancient.”
Andrew Everleigh heard me out, his voice became more reflective and tolerant. “You sell yourself short, Diane. When I first met that lady lawyer, all I wanted to do was cane her rump. Every action you took on Hugo’s behalf made me want to do it more and more.” He laughed down at the anxiety my face betrayed. “But the Estate got you involved in things you never dreamed of. You got yourself involved in all things which benefit a wench like you. You’ve been punished, imprisoned, shamed, and broken, and the effect of it all has been to put beauty in your face, and finely hone that lovely body into a man’s desire. Diane Durrant, you’re a beauty!”
I was mollified and wondered if what he said was true. Anytime Andrew Everleigh said something kind, I got shivers and thrills up and down my spine to a degree I despised. But the feelings came from someplace deep inside. I was still wet and messy from my trauma on the beach and said sulkily. “So, okay, you find me attractive, and you want to marry me and whip me the rest of my life. Does that make sense?”
Everleigh waved our discussion into limbo. Jacob helped me to rise then fell back respectfully as we made our way to the house. I felt shockingly untidy in front of this man who I knew I had to please, and who I wished to please if it didn’t hurt too much. Longing to tidy my hair, I asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to untie my hands? I sure could use them.”
My plea was ignored. Uncle Andrew did not believe in females possessing their own hands unless performing chores. I was handed to Juanita who bathed and attended to me prior to delivery at the dinner table where Uncle Andrew sat in State. I was forced to my knees beside his chair, a leather collar strapped around my collar, and from it a leash attached to one leg of the table. It was a very short leash! My master thrust food into my mouth whenever the thought occurred, and as we ate he talked. If I would have had a tail to wag, I would have made the perfect pet.
“This young buck. Hugo Markham, he’s a bit of a nuisance,” my master said. “According to the advice I’d had, he’s due here this evening, probably after dark. I expect he has a plan to rescue you.” Uncle Andrew chuckled. “He’d call it a rescue but it’s pure theft. He’d be stealing my property.”
“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”
“Just send him away with his tail between his legs, I’ll allow you time together if you wish.”
“Yes, please! I want that, I want that very much.” Kneeling, tethered beside his chair I dared not disturb the great man as he enjoyed his food. He passed me enough to keep me munching. There was a hidden something in his voice as he spoke of Hugo and I, but I knew it useless to ask. I’d find out soon enough, whatever this extraordinary man had up this sleeve. After dinner we took a brandy in the lounge with me still kneeling at his knee and sipping as he might choose. My master steered the conversation from dangerous ground to subjects which held my interest until, as darkness fell, Jacob came to politely inform, “All is ready, Sir. It is the time.”
The servant observed my plight with deep approval. The night air was warm as Jacob led me from the house and down the fine flight of stone steps to where massive stone pillars stood like sentries guarding entry. They were all five feet high, and to one of them was attached something I recognized all too well. Once again Uncle Andrew was going to score.
Jacob carefully clicked the collar shut around my neck. It was plenty tight and from it trailed the inevitable chain, just long enough to allow me to either stand or sit He felt called upon to explain, “Is special steel. Missy, very strong!”
“I’m sure it is, Jacob. Anything else?”
“No. Missy, you just enjoy the starlight and maybe go to sleep.” Alone, I tested my tether. It’s anchor was a solid ring about half way up the pillar, thus enabling the short chain around my neck to reach down far enough for me to sit, or up far enough for me to stand. But I couldn’t walk away. Disgustedly I sat, not bothering to think of escape. There would be no escape for Diane Durrant until her master chose to turn a key. For a few moments I considered trying to fray the cords around my wrists by rubbing against the comer of the stone but simply didn’t bother. What the hell was the use!
It was an hour before I discerned Hugo striding towards the house in the starlight, obviously a man with a mission.