"There," the Oriental girl whispered. "All done."
Behind her, Emily could hear the door opening. Kai locked her wrists together above her buttocks, so that her shoulders were pulled back and her breasts jutted forward, brushing their swollen scarlet tips against the sheer cotton. Emily felt someone approaching and then hands snapping leashes into the rings either side of her collar.
"Good," said Kai softly, "I think we're ready."
Emily walked slowly, the ankle restraints slowing her progress. Her mind flickered with wild terrifying possibilities about events that might follow. She tried to stay calm. After all, she had seen Deuvar, seen the faces of the guests and the girls when she had worked in the dining room. Surely nothing that Leonora could arrange for her could be any more humiliating than clearing tables, naked except for the harsh leather harness.
She thought about the way the diners had looked at her, eyes moving across her body like invasive fingers. She began to blush, longing for whatever was to follow to be over and done with, confused by the strange mixture of feelings she was experiencing. Deep in thought, the unseen guards lead Emily through the rabbit warren of corridors and passages. She didn't even take notice of which way they turned.
Finally there was the sound of doors opening and subdued voices close by. As she moved along under the guidance of the guards, the voices faded to an expectant hush.
"And today's final lot, ladies and gentleman -" Emily heard Leonora's distinctive voice. "Lot 27, a Caucasian female, 19 years old. This lot comes with a certificate of virginity. The sale price is for exclusive rights for a twenty four hour period to be agreed post sale."
Emily was guided up onto a low step. The voices rose again.
"Turn around, let them look at you -" said a male voice close to her.
Slowly Emily circled – even behind the blindfold she could sense the eyes. Eyes that explored and roamed freely over her almost naked body, assessing her worth, her capacity for compliance. She shivered, imagining the images the bidders could see. Her nipples had hardened in the cold. Their scarlet peaks pressed against the thin cotton, silver rings glittering as she shivered. Her naked sex, barely veiled by the wisp of transparent cotton, offered an untested pleasure.
She bit her lip, trying to hold back the fear, and the tears – and, more disturbing, the little dark glimmer of pleasure that curled low in her belly. She shuddered again, trying hard to quell the bubbling sense of panic that was growing inside.
From amongst the subdued hubbub came the first bid. The size of it took Emily's breath away. She thought miserably about Peter Howard's debt; at this rate she would clear it in a single day.
A single tear soaked into the blindfold as a voice on her left raised the bid. She recognised it as the voice of the man she had met so briefly in the dining room, when she had knelt beside him and his lover.
"We've barely had a chance to view this lot," said another voice from the room. "What are we getting for our money?"
Emily flinched. Rough hands closed on the neck of her shift and she let out a thin unhappy shriek as the fabric was ripped down over her shoulders. Cool hands lifted her breasts.
"Plump, ripe and ready," said an unnerving masculine voice.
"And the rest," snapped a voice nearby.
The unseen man laughed dryly and jerked the thin shift up around her waist, fingers splaying the lips of her quim amongst the flutter of rags. "As I said, all ready. Turn around. Let the punters see you."
Emily flushed scarlet as the unseen porter splayed the cheeks of her backside. "Open an' eager," he said brushing the bruised bud of her backside. "This is a prime lot, nicely stretched for your pleasure, gentleman." He slid a finger into Emily's backside making her tremble.
"Now," snapped Leonora. "The bid is on my left, any advance?" Leonora kept the bidding brisk, the sum rising every few seconds, the voices rising in a clamour of excitement. Emily tried to block out the voices until finally she heard the unnerving sound of the hammer falling and Leonora's voice.
"Sold to Mr and Mrs Haroldson -"
Emily thought she might faint as she felt a strong jerk on the leash.
Close by, Kai whispered. "Come on, it's over now." She jerked the lead again. Dumbly Emily fell into step, the sound of her heart beat thumping out a calypso rhythm in her ears.
Kai led her into a back room; it was quiet there. Emily couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They coursed down her face soaking the blindfold. She had been sold. Her virginity, the prize she had held onto for so long as a gift to a treasured lover, for a wedding night, was forfeit to an unseen buyer.
Instead of a wedding dress she was wearing a garment designed to make her look like a slave – a possession. It wouldn't be Peter whose loving hands undressed her, whose body moved across hers. She let out a miserable wail. Sobs wracked her body as she curled into a ball on the floor. 'Peter,' she whispered on a thick breath. 'Oh, Peter…'
Upstairs in the impressive offices of Deuvar, Leonora was writing a receipt for the cheque that had purchased Emily Lawrence for a day, while Max Fielding looked on. He had delayed his departure to watch the sale – and, in view of the fact that it had been the Haroldson's that had been the successful purchasers, he was wondering whether it might be worth staying on a little longer.
The Haroldson's rented a particularly nice guest house in the grounds of Deuvar. Set back amongst a stand of mature copper beeches, their house was on one of his favourite walks through the park.
But, of course, it wasn't the scenery that was persuading him to stay. George Haroldson was an ageing socialite and his wife… Max smiled as the stunning six foot blonde folded the receipt into her handbag. Dressed in haute couture, her shoulder length hair cut into a gleaming bob, Naomi Haroldson's tastes were legendary.
She glanced at Max and ran her tongue around her wide perfectly painted lips.
"Would you care to join us, Max?" she purred.
Max raised an eyebrow. "Very kind, Naomi, I thought you'd just spent a small fortune securing exclusive rights to our little friend."
Naomi pouted. "Oh, Max, I don't want you to play. I just thought you might appreciate a front row seat."
Max nodded. "I'd be delighted."
Naomi's reply was a bright tinkling laugh. "It's time we had another playmate for Franz. Such a shame Leonora won't consider selling the girl with slave rights. I should have liked to have trained her myself."
Max grinned and opened the cocktail cabinet. "We all need a hobby," he said.
Naomi snorted. "Max, you are such a fool. Shall we say eight for eight thirty?"
He nodded and lifted a glass in her direction. Naomi Haroldson shook her head. "Not for us, we need to get home to organise everything for this evening." She turned on her spiked black heels. Her diminutive husband followed in her wake without a word.
When the door had closed, Leonora laid the cheque on the desk. "Showing the video tape of her with the guard last night was master stroke. Do you think Johnson will be satisfied with the price we got for her?"
Max shook his head. "The only thing Johnson wants is Peter Howard and Magenta. Twice that amount wouldn't be enough." He looked up at the office clock. "You'd better ring him and let him know what she made. Oh, and don't tell him I'm still here -"
Leonora smiled. "Or that you'll be staying another night?"
Max snorted.
Emily lay very still. The floor beneath her was carpeted and soft. The tears had dried on her face and she had lost all sense of how long she had been lying there. Since the auction it seemed as if she had been forgotten. Her arms ached from being secured so tightly behind her and the leg chains meant that she could barely move. Even if she stood up, blind folded, she would probably injure herself if she tried to walk. She strained to pick up some sound, any sound. All that she could hear with any certainty was the whisper of the wind.
She hesitated; if she could hear the wind then she must be close to a window or a fireplace. Wriggling she tried to get her bearings, wishing she had taken more notice as she had been led into the room.
They had come downstairs – most likely the ground floor. The dining room overlooked the grounds, but this room seemed too small to be a dining room and she was certain that if it was she would be able to hear voices. She rubbed her face against the floor, trying to slide the blindfold up a little.
"What are you doing?" snapped a male voice. Emily froze; she had assumed she was alone. Lying still, she heard the muffled sound of feet crossing the carpet.
"I want to use the bathroom," she said lamely, wriggling a little to add emphasis.
The man snorted. "You'll have to wait for a bit longer. I'll ring for someone to come and take you." Footsteps receding. Rubbing the mask a little more, lifting it fractionally, she could peer down over her cheeks. She struggled to look round and get her bearings, moving very slowly so that the guard wouldn't suspect she could see.
She spotted him by the door, cradling a phone. Peering left and right, straining to take in as much detail as she could, she discovered they were in a small panelled room.
In one wall, adjacent to the door, was a window that extended from the ceiling to a foot or two above floor level, flanked by rich drapes. The room was empty except for a single chair by the door, where presumably the guard had been sitting whilst she had been lying on the floor. She twisted slowly round, arching her head around. Behind her was an ornate fire place with a painting above it. There was nowhere to hide even if she could get her hands free.
The guard mumbled something into the receiver and a second or two later Kai appeared, neatly dressed in a tailored suit. She glanced at Emily.
"Help me get her on her feet," she said to the man. "I'll ask Leonora if she can go back to her cell. The Haroldson's don't want her delivered until tonight. No point in her lying about down here -"
Emily flinched. Delivered like a gift wrapped package, she thought miserably. Suddenly more than anything else she wanted to get away, contract or no contract. As she was helped to her feet she stumbled and moaned theatrically.
"What's the matter?" asked Kai.
"My arms," Emily said unhappily. "I can't feel my arms. I've got cramp."
With a little noise of frustration, Kai turned her round and undid the wrist cuffs. What followed next seemed to take place in a split second. The instant her hands were free, Emily pushed up her blindfold and stooped to unsnap the chain that linked her ankles. Before Kai or the guard had time to react she made a lunge for the door, jerked it open, and dashed headlong into the main hall that lay beyond.
There were very few people around and they were all stunned by the sight of Emily, still dressed in the ragged transparent cotton shift, running across the elegant hallway. Ahead of her the main door was flanked by two guards. Emily saw with horror that one of them was the man who had visited her the previous night. He looked up, recognised her, and immediately gave chase. Emily gasped, turning sharply to avoid his outstretched arms and ran back into the corridors that led away from the entrance hall.
In the far distance she could see light – an open door. She swerved to avoid a couple standing in the shadows, dropped her head, and ran towards it. Close on her heels the guard followed, barking information into the radio on his lapel. The breath roared in her chest, pulse crackling in her ears as she ran headlong towards the exit. It seemed to get further and further away. She let out a thin high pitched wail and put on a spurt, sensing the man behind was rapidly gaining ground.
Finally she was there and hurtled outside into the cold morning air. The change in temperature took her breath away. She was at the top of a short flight of stairs that led down into a service area. Glancing up she could see a Deuvar van, door open, parked near a cellar door. She took the steps two at a time and made her way across the Tarmac, praying that the keys would be in the ignition.
"Stop!" commanded a female voice.
In spite of herself, Emily slowed down and glanced over her shoulder. Leonora was standing at the top of the steps, her face pale and furious. Turning threw Emily off balance and she stumbled, tried to regain her footing, and fell straight into the arms of the Deuvar security man whose van she had intended to steal.
"Let me go," she screamed. "Let me go!" Fighting and clawing to get free, she turned and twisted in his arms. His grip closed tighter grabbing her wrists, while behind her she heard Leonora and the guard heading towards them.
"Well done," said Leonora breathlessly as the man relinquished his grip and Emily fell into the first guard's arms. She spun round, flailing wildly, desperately trying to escape. The night guard, eyes glinting, grabbed her hands, snapping a short chain into the links on the wrist cuffs. Another man arrived hot on the heels of Leonora and the guard and made a lunge for her legs.
Emily bit and kicked, wriggling, the shift dress tearing her shoulders as they tried to hold her tight. Finally one of the guards caught her round the throat with his forearm. She staggered back and felt a second guard grab her legs. An instant later he caught hold of her ankles and snapped a rigid pole between them, holding her legs open.
Emily was still struggling when Leonora stepped closer, rubbing her cheek where Emily had caught her as she had been fighting to escape.
Leonora smiled thinly and slapped Emily hard across the face. "Total obedience," she hissed, as Emily's head snapped back.
Emily was breathless, her face stinging and flushed, her heart still ricocheting against her ribs. She could taste blood.
Leonora watched her coldly. "I ought to let them fuck you here," she said, nodding towards the guards. "You signed a contract or have you forgotten. You're ours -"