Deceived and Enslaved (19 page)

She quickly put on her clothes and walked downstairs. There didn't seem to be anybody in the corridors. She searched for something she could use as a weapon but everything had been removed from her bedroom and there was nothing in the corridor. All the doors to the other rooms seemed to have been locked.

She looked across the banister into the hall downstairs. There was nobody there. It must be a trick. Surely they were watching her from somewhere, but what if they weren't? What if they felt so sure of her obedience that they thought they didn't need to guard her? Maybe she could just walk out the front door. But surely they must be waiting for her somewhere? No, it was a trap. Even if the front door would open from the inside, she suspected that Everton or Willingham would be waiting for her outside. The house was so isolated.

Then it suddenly dawned on her, yes, the telephone. Her Italian was good enough. Surely she could call the police, but she didn't know the number. Then she could at least call a friend in England who would do the rest for her. It surely wasn't impossible. The telephone was the best option. It would only take a minute and then soon she might be free. The alternative of being locked away under the instructions of Lord Willingham and that horrible servant of his was just too much to bear.

But the door beckoned her first. She rushed across the hall as quickly as she could in the high-heeled shoes that Willingham had left for her. She wondered now why she hadn't taken them off. She could have used them as a weapon but now it was too late.

She reached the door but as she suspected it was locked and there seemed no way of opening it from the inside. There seemed to be some electronic gadget that she needed to unlock using a code. She had noticed it before but thought nothing of it, thinking it was only a question of security, maybe a way of locking the outside gate from within. It certainly hadn't been switched on when she had first come here, when she could come and go as she pleased.

The telephone! She must try the telephone. It sat on a table at the side of the grand hall. Quickly she dialled the number of her closest friend. She heard it ringing. The receiver was picked up, her heart was racing. Soon she might be free. How long would it take the police to get here? Not long, she suspected. It would be too late then for Willingham to do anything about it. Why wasn't her friend answering? Maybe she should try another number. Then she heard the click as the receiver was picked up.

'We're waiting for you, my dear, in the study. I think you've been a naughty girl, don't you?' Willingham said before replacing the receiver.

With mounting trepidation, Lillian began mounting the stairs leading to Lance Willingham's study.

When she entered the room there was a young man waiting for her. He looked strong and muscular, and she thought she recognised him as a gardener she had seen on her first day there.

Willingham was standing by the window.

'I'm so glad you decided to stay, Lillian. I was beginning to worry that you weren't going to come. Looks to me like you wanted to go for a little walk.'

Lillian didn't say anything. She felt so frustrated and frightened, frustrated by her failure to escape and frightened of what they might now be going to do to her.

'Don't look so perplexed, my dear.'

'I'm not perplexed, just frightened... Master.' She knew it was the wrong thing to say to Willingham, that the thought of her being afraid would only excite him more.

'Don't be frightened. We'll take very good care of you. And don't worry about the boy here. You don't need to know who he is. I'm not even going to bother introducing you because you will probably never see him again, not unless of course you are a very naughty girl.'

Lillian noticed the tone of threat in Willingham's chill voice. But what terrible thing was this young man going to do to her. She looked at him more closely. He was handsome, about thirty, taller with a ponytail and a goatee beard and piercing dark eyes. Maybe in another context she would have felt attracted to him, but the darkness of his eyes seemed to make him sinister in Lillian's mind.

'Of course, as always,' Willingham continued, 'you must do everything I say. I can't say I was very impressed by your rather pathetic attempt to leave us, Lillian. I really thought that you were a more intelligent girl than that. You understand that that kind of ungrateful and selfish behaviour will not be tolerated while you are a guest in my house.'

Lillian wanted to protest, to say that she was no longer a guest in their house at all, that Willingham was keeping her against her will, but she knew she couldn't, that any complaint she made, no matter how intolerable her treatment in the house, would only be met with severe punishment.

'Yes, master,' she said reluctantly.

'First take off your clothes,' Willingham said.

They were only doing this to humiliate her again. She automatically hesitated, but Willingham raised his eyebrows. She hated him, but she was so terrified of what would happen to her should she refuse to obey him.

First she removed her stockings, then her panties, before slipping out of the tight-fitting dress. Suddenly she felt timid, disrobing before the handsome ponytailed man, as she always did in front of a new lover. In a few seconds she was standing completely naked before him. She could see the pupils of his eyes dilate with pleasure at the firmness of her breasts and her hairless mound.

'Isn't she beautiful, quite delicious?' Willingham walked up to her and turned her body around.

The man nodded, but said nothing, merely continuing to look at her greedily.

'Everything is laid out over there on the table. Let's start with the blindfold.'

Willingham could see how dismayed Lillian looked at the prospect of donning a blindfold again. 'No harm will come to you, my dear. In fact, I imagine that the blindfold will only enhance your pleasure.'

The ponytailed man stood behind her. She could feel the pressure of his cock pushing against her naked back, even through the constriction of his jeans. He tied the blindfold in a tight knot and suddenly Lillian was cast into darkness.

'Now the collar,' Willingham commanded.

Oh my god, Lillian thought. Why were they putting a collar on her?

The ponytailed man attached a studded metal collar around her neck, the leather neither loose nor tight. She reached up to feel the studs that protruded from it.

'Get on your knees, my dear.'

Lillian obeyed Willingham's command, noticing a mounting excitement in his voice. She could also feel the heavy excited breathing of the man who stood behind her.

As she slipped down on her knees she went to remove her blindfold, but two hands grabbed and held her firmly by the wrists. She imagined it was the handsome man.

'If you remove the blindfold you will receive another beating and you are already going to be punished for your defiance. Do you understand?' It was Willingham's voice seemingly coming from the other side of the room. 'And another thing, no speaking. Speaking means beating.'

She felt a tug on the collar pulling her to her feet. They had obviously attached some lead to it. She felt like sobbing at the rough injustice of their treatment. They were treating her like an animal.

She felt the breeze coming from the door as it was opened and she was escorted out of the room. They were obviously going to make her walk around the house like this. How terrible that seemed to Lillian.

'Now, my dear, you wanted to go for a walk. Well that is precisely what you are going to do.' There was a cruel laugh in Willingham's voice.

The man led her out of the room by tugging the collar.

She was walking along the corridor now, completely naked, apart from the blindfold and the collar she wore around the neck. Occasionally she would feel the tug of the belt instructing her to go faster. When they came to the wooden staircase her hand was taken and placed on the banister so she wouldn't fall over. She was marched down the stairs. The outer door was opened and she was led out onto the gravel path, causing her some pain on her naked feet.

It was a warm but a surprisingly blustery day and she was aware of the sharp bite of the wind on her skin.

The man who was leading her suddenly stopped, pulled her down so that she was at first sitting, then lying on the loose gravel. She felt the tiny stones digging into her, all over her sensitive breasts, up and down her thighs, on the flat of her stomach.

'Why are you doing this?' she demanded.

'Your master told you not to speak,' the heavily accented voice said authoritatively.

Suddenly there was a flash of pain, as the man brought down a whip onto the small of her back, then another and another.

It took her a while to realise that there were other people standing around, watching her humiliation. She felt her bum cheeks being separated by a gloved hand. She felt a finger sliding inside her tight hole.

She tried to fend him off with her hand but felt the crack of leather on her bottom again. She was then aware of feet standing on her, one in the small of her back, another on her shoulder, one foot resting on the back of her legs, pressing her body firmly into the gravel.

She realised words were useless. She knew what this was. It was an absolute demonstration of Willingham's desire to control her. She was mute against her humiliation, realising just how futile it would be to protest.

Eventually she was dragged back to her feet and taken indoors. She was walked down some stairs, and led into a bathroom.

She felt the young man's hands on her again, this time soaping her, creeping over her sex, sneaking between the cleft of her bottom, hands washing her breasts, but all the time the blindfold remained on, and the collar attached to her neck.

Her body was powdered and scented and then she was led back up the stairs. But this time she was forced to walk on her hands and knees, and occasionally the man would lash her bottom lightly with the whip.

She was sobbing now and whimpering, just as a wounded animal might, but she knew that this too displeased the man. She felt the leather on her again, this time much harder. It was difficult to stop crying, but the more she cried the more she would feel the lash of the whip.

It was so humiliating. Sometimes she heard people passing her, the clip of female heels, the plodding footsteps of men on the parquet floor. Fully clothed people were witnessing her humiliation, her shaved mound, could if they wanted, and as one man did, stroke her bottom.

Eventually, and she must have walked through every passageway of Willingham's grand mansion, she was led back into the room on her hands and knees.

'Did you enjoy your little walk, my dear?' Willingham grabbed her by her hair. 'You must answer, you really must.'

'No... no...' she started to sob loudly, breaking down, her body and mind consumed by self-pity, by every act of pain and humiliation that had been perpetrated against her.

'No, Lillian, this won't do. Either you stop this nonsense now or else I really will get very angry with you.'

Willingham's words scorched her mind. Fear overcame self-pity. With an act of great will she just about managed to stop crying.

'Lillian, you are really a naughty girl to think that you could escape like that. It really is going to make things a lot worse for you. You do know that, don't you?'

Lillian nodded. She hated it, the way he called her a naughty girl, as if she was a mere child, but she was so frightened of him, so frightened of what he might do to her.

Suddenly there was the noise of metal; cold steel dangling against her skin, then the clipping noise as it was clamped first against one ankle then another. Her hands were suddenly tugged behind her back and fastened in a handcuff. She was pulled by Willingham.

'Well, we had better take you back to your room and lock you up again to make sure that you can't escape,' Willingham said, tugging on the lead of her collar.

Over the next few days Lillian was chained to the bed in her room. The only time she was permitted to leave was when Willingham came to either take her for punishment or to take her to be bathed or use the toilet. And always he would drag her along the corridor on the collar and she would have to crawl on her hands and knees.

Sometimes she desperately wanted to use the toilet, but Willingham had told her that if she relieved herself without his permission he would beat her for it. It was an agony for her to be chained to the bed urgently needing to use the bathroom, desperately trying to ignore the mounting pressure inside her, especially as often Willingham would force her to drink a lot of water and fruit juice to increase her desire to urinate.

She suspected too that Willingham watched her through the cameras that he no doubt had placed around the house. After watching the video with Sonia, Lillian had realised that Willingham probably had cameras in every room. She had even thought she had seen them herself in her own room, but they were placed so high up that there was no way she could have disabled them.

The worst thing about her situation was that time became meaningless for her. Deprived of her senses, for Willingham had also covered her ears with a specially designed hood, she lived in an interminable temporal space. She thought of Dante, of what purgatory must be like. This is exactly, she thought, what purgatory was like, a place where hope died, a place without sensation except for pain, a place of darkness and impotency.

It almost came as a relief when Willingham made her crawl to his study and thrashed her. He would remove her blindfold and her gag, but not permit her to speak or make any kind of noise. That would be so difficult as he lashed her with a belt or a cane and on one occasion the whip. How much she wanted to shout out against the horrible pain being inflicted on her. But at least she could hear and see, and had some sense of what time of day it was, if the curtains were parted, or if Willingham appeared in his dressing gown she could usually infer whether it was day or night.

The only other time the gag was removed, and again she was not permitted to speak, was when Willingham came to feed her. It was horrible not to know what she was eating and she always suspected that Willingham would feed her something horrible to eat, not knowing what she was eating, and having Willingham there playing his horribly cruel jokes on her.