"Dream all you want, mate. Where these are going they'll be getting plenty of stick from a sheik if they don't behave themselves. I've heard some pretty hard things about that, probably have them done."
"Done?" asked Pat.
"You know, cut." He transferred his interest to the fiery red triangle between the other girl's thighs, and opened her up with his fingers. "You know, here. But that would be a personal taste and maybe he's buying for one of his sons, or for breeding stock, then who knows their fate." He finished his fumblings and motioned towards the door. "Well, you better leave."
Peter was not reluctant to do so! He made casually for the door, where the Irish man spoke again.
"If you want them, you'll have to take your chance at the auction, the same as the next man."
"I might do that," said Peter nonchalantly. Then he turned and left.
"See you there," Dan shouted after him.
Peter raised a hand in acknowledgement. "How about a drink before it starts?"
Dan came out to the main area of the trailer. "OK, where'll you be?"
"The beer tent?"
A quizzical look crossed Dan's face. "It'll be all shut up then. Auction don't start 'til eleven."
"Of course," stammered Peter. "I was forgetting. Where then?"
"The Forge about ten?"
"Fine by me."
"See you there then," said Dan smiling, then he returned to the Irish man and his examination of the two fettered girls. Peter did not think they would enjoy it.
Chapter 10
"Hello Melanie. Long time no see."
Through groggy eyes Melanie was unable to recognise the voice, or what was visible of the caller's shadowy face. She was desolated that it wasn't Peter returning with a change of heart. She took a step out of the dim light of the passageway, noticing that the chicken fried rice had completely dried, and appeared like a black hole in the night time pavement.
"What do you want?" she asked, angry at being disturbed in the early hours.
The man said nothing until his head was properly lit.
Suddenly galvanised into frantic action, she turned and fled back into the flat. But her attempts to slam the door were futile. Unable to resist his superior weight she released the door and leapt up the stairs, managing three steps before the strong grip of fingers wrapped about her ankle and brought her to the floor.
"Where do you think you're fucking going, bitch! I want a word with you."
With a heavy boot he kicked the door shut and Melanie was trapped. Her desire to resist and fight back dissolved as he looped rope around her wrists. He continued winding, finishing only when he had secured both hands tightly together.
"Remember this?" he growled. "You should have known you'd never be free. But we'd have left you alone if only you'd kept your big mouth shut. It's your own fault." He got up from the stairs and went towards the flat, Melanie stumbling behind. Inside he took one look at the room and spat out his thoughts.
"What a fucking mess! You're still a dirty pig!" He pulled the rope hard, sending her crashing onto the settee, her legs flailing upwards revealing her pantieless gash which he spotted straight away.
"No fucking knickers, the place like a tip, nothing changes, does it? You're still a fucking scrubber." He glared hard at her, trembling with anger, waiting for her to agree. "Ain't you?" he roared again. "Still a fucking scrubber, still sucking cocks for half a lager! Well?"
She simply stared up at him towering above her, half numb with shock, half terrified with fear. "Well?" he repeated. "What are you?"
"A scrubber," she whispered.
"I didn't hear you."
"A scrubber!"
"And what do you do?" he asked again, in a quieter voice.
"I suck cocks."
Knowing he had her beaten he slumped down in a chair opposite.
"Don't you worry about sucking cocks tonight," he told her. "There's going to be plenty of time for that after you've told me who this bloke is."
Melanie climbed off the settee and onto the floor then crawled across to her tormentor and clasped his knees.
"Please Colin," she pleaded. "I don't know anything. Honestly. I haven't seen you or Lincoln for years, I haven't said anything to anyone." She moved her tied hands along his thigh hoping to appease him but he rose and walked away. Still on her hands and knees she followed him around the floor trying to think how she could please him and diffuse his anger.
"Why don't you take me to bed?" she suggested. "You used to like to fuck me. You and your brother."
Colin moved to stand near her head then raised his diesel drenched boot and brought it firmly down on the back of her neck, pressing her face into a cold, greasy dish of black bean sauce, forcing her to gag as the mixture covered her mouth. Leaning over her, he gathered a knot of the flimsy kimono in his hand and tore it from her back leaving her naked backside jutting upwards, then he whipped around the loose end of the rope and lashed her arse crevice soundly, bisecting the buttocks and leaving a red weal that was broken only by the spot of her clenched arsehole.
"Give me his name, and no shit."
He pressed her face further into the juice, staining and stinging her eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been working the pub for a couple 'a weeks. I haven't seen no-one."
He gave her another lash with the rope, landing the hairy hemp in the same spot as before.
"Let's try again, shall we? Who's the fucking guy you were seen with?"
"When?"
The rope bit again leaving a thick red weal along the smile of her bottom, as if she'd applied lipstick to it. Colin gave her another stroke to brighten it further.
"Don't get smart, bitch," he warned. "You weren't smart when we fucked you stupid in the wagon and you're not fucking smart now. Stupid yes. Smart, bollocks."
He dragged her along the floor towards the bedroom, burning her skin on the nylon fibres of the carpet.
"Still got shit for brains," he scorned, and began loosening the belt on his jeans. "Looks like I'm going to have to teach you all over again."
Melanie looked on in terror as the thick leather belt slipped through each loop of his trousers.
"Please," she begged. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm past listening, bitch," he replied. "Past worrying about you. I've worried for you long enough. No more second chances, no more time. I'm going to have the skin off your arse for a waistcoat." He pulled Melanie up on the bed and gagged her with a pair of her own knickers, forcing them deep inside her mouth. Then he picked up a lacy suspender belt and wrapped it tightly around her face, preventing her from pushing the panties out.
"Now," he said, with cool detachment. "Let's get that arse up in the air." He pulled the ironing board Melanie had left open into the centre of the room and forced her to lie along it, the curved end pushing into her thighs. After tying the rope to the one end he tipped open her dressing table drawers until he found her underwear, then he took some stockings and secured her ankles to the legs of the board.
Then he picked up his belt.
He gripped the buckle firmly in his palm then wrapped the leather strap tightly around his hand several times. Without any more conversation he brought the leather around in a great arc to connect with Melanie's already stinging buttocks.
The slap of leather on skin sent quivers the length of her body, sending her head snapping backwards in response to the pain. He left it at the one for the moment, walking around to see the tears welling in her eyes.
"Do you remember now?"
She shook her head, not in defiance, for she wanted to tell him Peter's name more than anything. She wanted to stop the pain, wanted to go back to being a nobody, like she was last week. Just another tart in another pub. But Peter deserved more than betrayal. He was a decent bloke and she longed to do something decent for once in her life.