Authors: Jennifer Jane Pope
Teena Thyme (32 page)
'Oh my god!' she exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth. 'You mean you went back there again?' I heard a strangled gasp from Andrea, but my attention was now firmly fixed on Anne-Marie.
'Yes,' I said. 'I went back there again. But how long have I been unconscious?' Anne-Marie's face puckered and she looked across at Andrea.
'Five minutes,' she said. 'Maybe six, no longer than that.'
'No,' Andrea agreed. 'Not long, though we were both really worried.'
'Sorry,' I said stupidly. Now I did try to sit up and, aided by Anne-Marie, I managed it, holding my head in my near-useless hands and breathing in as deeply as the corset would permit. 'Five or six minutes, you say?' They both grunted further confirmation. 'And I definitely never left here at all during that time?'
'Of course you didn't,' Anne-Marie replied. 'We lifted you onto the bed and untied everything and then I was slapping your face and splashing water on you, though nothing seemed to have any effect. I was on the point of calling an ambulance, but then suddenly you started to come to again, just like that.'
'Good job I did, then.' I chuckled, despite everything, mental pictures of the faces of any ambulance man called to revive me in my present get-up. I sighed and lowered my hands.
'It didn't feel like a dream,' I said quietly. Two pairs of eyes were fixed immovably on me. 'It felt dead real again. Too damned real, actually.' My hand went up to touch the locket that still hung around my neck and my fingers stroked the smooth metal of the casing. Idly, I noticed they'd removed the choker that had been round my neck earlier.
'And it was far longer than five minutes, believe me,' I continued. 'More like five weeks, at a guess.' I drew in another deep as possible breath and shook my head. 'I need a stiff drink,' I announced. 'A bloody big stiff drink.'
'But what about—' Anne-Marie began, but I smiled at her.
'Drink first,' I said firmly. 'Drink first and then I'll tell you all about it, though believe me, you aren't going to believe me, if you know what I mean.'
'Go get her a large brandy, Andrea,' Anne-Marie ordered.
'Bring the bottle and three glasses,' I said, 'and a spare bottle if you've got it. This is some story and you're both gonna need a drink almost as much as I am!'
And there, dear reader, I'm afraid we must leave things for now, for, as I told my two friends, the tale I had to tell - the tale I shall surely tell you, too - was as long as it was astounding, sufficient to fill at least one more volume in itself and terrible enough that I think perhaps you might like to reflect before deciding whether you really want to hear it.
If you decide not - and who could really blame you for such a decision? - let it be enough to tell you that yes, I did go back, back to eighteen thirty-nine again, back to Hacklebury and Meg, to Polly and to Erik and to yet more players in that game of subterfuge, terror, brutality and misogyny. Yes indeed, I went back, falling once again into the clutches of Meg and the evil web being spun by her master, my ancestor, Gregory Hacklebury. And I did survive, as you know - more or less unscathed, if somewhat chastened by the experience - to return to my own time, and to return with at least some of the knowledge and understanding I craved for my own peace of mind.
There were still unanswered questions, even then, as there always must be in this life and in every other life I have since entered or touched upon; and there were and are still more tales to tell, if more tales you wish to hear. I leave the choice, then, with you, but beware - judging from my own experiences over the intervening and preceding years, that may be one of the few genuine choices you ever get to make...
Well, now you've met Teena and, as she says, the choice is yours. If you do want to follow her adventures further, the second book in her story is
Thyme II Thyme
. So, until the next time, I'd just like to say thank you and I hope you've enjoyed Teena's first adventure as much as I've enjoyed writing it. And don't forget - she'll be back!
-oOo-
Enjoy more of Teena's damsel in distress, time-travelling
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Thyme II
Thyme
I struggled into a sitting position, no mean feat without the use of my hands, which were still trapped inside those awful disabling gloves, my wrists locked to the broad corset belt that was part of the suit. Then, grunting into the foul tasting leather gag that was strapped between my achingly distended jaws, I managed to stand up using the rough stone wall as support. Just as before, my feet were encased in those ridiculously high heels and I had to pause for a moment to re-accustom myself and balance before finally tottering across to where the top half of the stable door stood open, the bottom half locked and bolted against any hope of escape.
Eighteen year old Teena's apparent journey back through time into the body of her ancestor, Angelina, has left as many marks on her psyche as Sir Gregory Hacklebury's whip had left on her borrowed body 130 years earlier, and her encounter with the dominant lesbian Anne-Marie back in her own time in 1975 has asked even more dark questions and opened too many secret doors to the depths of her soul.
Has the Hacklebury gene left a permanent scar through the decades, or is it the Thyme side of the family tree that causes Teena to seek thrills through pain and degradation? Needing an answer more desperately with every passing day, Teena knows that she can probably only find it in the past, and once again must try to journey back into an era where women were merely corseted chattels and poor Angelina is still suffering an existence of bondage and suffering that her supposed husband and master would not inflict even upon his livestock.
Teena - A House of Ill Repute
I sucked on the gag and managed to swallow with some difficulty, breathing in through my nose as deeply as the stringent corset permitted.
Inside my rubber costume I felt hot and clammy. Suddenly my fetish garb did not seem so exciting and I wanted to pull it all off and simply go and lie down for a while, but I knew there was no chance of that happening. Gagged as I was, there was no way I could convey my wishes to Anne-Marie and any physical show would only be interpreted wrongly.
1839 - Having escaped from the clutches of the wicked Gregory Hacklebury and his insane 'maid' Megan Crowthorne, the youthful an supposedly innocent Angelina has been re-united with her own former maid, the beautiful Indira, but cast out into a world with only her jewellery and a few pounds.
1975 - Teena Thyme, now back in her own body, knows that it is only a matter of time before she will find herself back as Angelina, for there is unfinished business which her ancestor will not be able to take care of herself.
From a world of hot pants and kinky boots to one of corsets, garters and silken mysteries, Teena/Angelina becomes mistress of an early Victorian brothel for the well heeled - and none are as well heeled as Angelina and her girls!
-oOo-
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