The Price of Hannah Blake (6 page)

“Now, some of the others grew excited. ‘Stop him!’ I cried to them, ‘help me, help me! In the name of God, help me!’

“But some watched me, their lips parted. They breathed hard, excited. A woman, a countess from the German court, whose husband favored me, cried out, ‘Let me try!’ The duke handed her the whip. I knew she would have no pity. I would die; and I wanted to die.

“This countess was a beautiful woman, far crueler than the duke. She began to whip my breasts. I screamed and begged for her to stop. The pain was terrible, and I thought: Who will look at me, again, with scars on my breasts?

“When the blood covered my breasts, and ran down my belly, she began to whip my sex. I don’t remember, now. I fainted, at last. She must have gone on, lashing my poor belly.

“I awoke here, lying on a cot. For days, I could only moan or weep. Often, I fainted, and only when I fainted could I sleep.”

She passed one slender hand across her bush, and looked at Hannah. “For months, I felt nothing but pain, here. And then, I felt nothing for two years. As I lay unconscious that night, she must have kept whipping me between my legs. Why did the duke not stop her? He adored me? And for years, I wondered: why did they all hate me so? I was beautiful and I lived for their pleasure and amusement? Why destroy me?”

Hannah gazed up at her, unable to speak or to turn her face from this woman who recounted her story only in bewilderment, not with anger or indignation.

“I could never appear naked on stage, again. The duke, later, was furious. He told me he had punished the woman who did this thing. I am sure that he always loved me.”

She stopped and looked down at Hannah, as though seeking confirmation. Hannah could only nod.

“And so, for seven years, I have taught others what I know. I will never leave here. I know that.”

“I will die if I have to stay here,” said Hannah, her voice choked.

“Do you think I pity you? You are young. Life is stronger than you are. It is stronger even than I was when I first awakened and saw this.” She gestured down at her body. “Even with this, I wanted to live!

“Little girl with wonderful brown skin, you may never have to dangle on the rope and feel your living flesh flayed from your body. You may never have to watch people fascinated to see…this.”

She knelt on the rug beside Hannah. She touched Hannah’s thigh where the shift did not cover it. She reached up to smooth Hannah’s hair. Hannah trembled. The hand traveled over her shoulders, down her back. The woman’s face, very beautiful, came close to hers. “No,” Hannah whimpered. “Please, no?”

But the hands like iron were on her shoulders, pushing her back. Back, down, into the folds of the wonderful fur. If Hannah struggled, this woman could overpower her, utterly. Maria’s naked body now bent over Hannah’s. Hannah felt a rising panic, a dread of what? The unknown. The woman’s quiet story carried such a burden of unimaginable violence that Hannah was terrified of her.

Gentle, persistent hands pulled Hannah’s blouse up over her shoulders. In another moment, she would be naked with this naked woman. She flung herself up, rolling over, and screamed, “No!” She was startled to find herself free. Free to leap to her feet, run for the door. There, she stood gasping, struggling to pull her blouse back down.

Maria sat up. She gazed at Hannah. “Very well,” she said. “But listen, there is only one way to survive, here.” She held up her hands, and said, “These hands, these lips…I give and accept pleasure wherever it is wanted. I have learned that. Men have lain with me, and women. I feel no modesty, no shame. If the duke summoned me before his whole court, naked, and demanded that I lie with my legs spread and my sex to see—I would feel no shame even with this body. Perhaps I would enjoy it.”

When Hannah did not reply, she said, “All right, no one believes that. Not at first. Each must learn. You are free to go.”

Hannah tried to open the door. Maria came up behind her so silently that Hannah jumped when the bare arms reached around her with a key. Maria said, “Two floors below this. The room is number 29. It is not locked. You may go alone, but go directly. If you enter forbidden areas, you will put yourself at the mercy of men who will joy in punishing you.”

The hand turned the key. Hannah felt the heat of the naked body behind her. Maria said, “One thing you will learn, and it will save you much suffering.”

Hannah turned, She had to acknowledge this woman She said, “Thank you, thank you, for telling me.”

“Never show modesty. It is an intoxicant to them. What you wish to cover, they will want to see. What you cover, they will strip. If you show them your modesty, they will become drunk on it. And then, be careful!”

Hannah let her gaze travel down the body. It was the body of a martyred goddess, still proud. Then, she closed her eyes. She heard Maria say, “I can punish you as I wish, any time. Your suffering means nothing to me. I can favor you or have you removed from this place.”

Hannah watched her, waiting. Maria asked, “Do you know what that means? Smuggled onto the duke’s ships, sold to the East—in Cairo, Damascus. There are savage chieftains who would pay in gold and ivory to have your body. Do you understand? No one leaves this place to tell of it. You must see why?”

Hannah turned, pulled open the door, and walked into the hall. She turned and said, “Thank you, Maria.” Then, she walked down the corridor, looking for a staircase. Just to get to her room, close and lock the door. To be
alone
! Just to think, remember. She walked rapidly, looking side to side.

The kidnapping in the forest, this place of beauty and wealth, the stern wardresses, Cara, Maria and her branded body…It must be true. All of it. But the duke? The queen’s own brother? That was a lie. The royal house in its unapproachable glory, its grandeur—it could not be true. What was the real purpose of this place?

She hurried down the stairs. She kept seeing the naked men. She had known she would marry someday, be naked with her husband in their bed and she would be happy. So that is how naked men, grown men, looked. Their sex was so strange, frightening, rooted in dark hair, looking like an animal. Did she like it or loathe it. Or simply fear it?

She would not sleep. She would think and plan. Because tomorrow they could come and strip her and then would be the leaping, the nakedness. Before that, she must
do
something. She stopped at the door mark “29” and glanced around. No one must see her enter. She would step in and lock the door.

She pushed open the door and stepped through, pulling it shut behind her. She twisted the key. Thank God! Relief made her knees weak. She almost sobbed because, all day, evil had swirled around her, but God had kept her safe.

She turned from the door and decided to turn up the gaslights, as she had been shown. And then she gasped and almost cried out in fear.

Her hand flew to her mouth and she backed against the door, already breathing hard in her panic. Around the shadowy room—on the bed, chairs, even the window sills and perched on the dresser—were young men. Ten? They sat silent, but they grinned at her. In the sticky evening, some wore no shirts, so the light played on muscled bodies, smooth chests and arms, and on their handsome faces.

Sprawled in an easy chair, his leg thrown over one arm, his slender torso naked above the waist, was the bold man who had stared at her at breakfast. In the soft light, his curly, coal-black hair shone. His white teeth showed in a broad grin, like a predator. Hannah stared at his stomach and chest, covered with the same jet-black hair; it clustered around his dark nipples.

“I’m Charles,” he said. Hannah backed against the door. Charles had risen and come toward her, but, when he stood close, he did not touch her. He merely pulled the key from her fingers. When she felt him take it, she closed her fist, but too late. He dropped the key into the pocket of his trousers. Then, he returned to his seat. She was trapped. They sat watching her, saying nothing.

She put her hands over her face. “Please,” she said. “Please, no.”

Maria had said, ‘Never, ever, show your modesty. It is an intoxicant. They will become drunk on it. And then, watch out!’ Hannah forced her hands down by her sides. She lifted her head and walked to the middle of the room. Inside she shook, but she stood within the circle of men.

“I am Charles,” said the young man in the easy chair, again. “You had your interview with Maria, didn’t you? But you don’t believe her. You hope she is lying. But she is not lying, and that puts you in danger. You are one of us, and we must help you.”

“I am Hannah,” she said.

Charles said, “Before we leave this room, you will be naked. There are enough of us to ensure that. We don’t care if you scream or cry. Do you want to do it, or do you want us to do it?”

He was the most beautiful man she ever had seen. For fully half a minute, they held each others’ gaze. ‘Never, ever show your modesty,’ Maria had said. Hannah reached back and took hold of the blouse. She held her breath, glanced at Charles, and pulled it over her head. There seemed to be no place to put it. She dropped it on the floor. And then she bent to push down the trousers, and was naked. It was the strangest and most frightening feeling. The beautiful man looked at her nakedness and she felt quaking fear—and a hint of excitement.

She had the arms and shoulders of a farm girl, strong, and a waist lean with muscle from bending, lifting, and because there was not enough food. The tiny waist flared up to her breasts, the breasts with raised aureoles and nipples now stiffening. On her shoulders and chest were freckles, but the flawless white breasts seemed to pop out at the viewer, tender and saucy. She held her head with a natural poise, so the sandy curls swirled about her neck. In fascinating counterpoint was a lush, full bush of sandy hair at the apex of her long leg and slim thighs.

The men were studying her with the professional appraisal of connoisseurs who spent their days with some of the most beautiful young women of the realm. Charles gazed at Hannah so long, so openly, that finally she found courage to return his stare. He nodded slightly, rose, and came toward her. She held her ground. When he stood only a few inches from her, his powerful chest almost touching her breasts, she could feel his heat. She could smell his sweat. Charles looked down at her, examining her, then walked around her. Hannah was trembling, but stood still. Charles did not touch her, but, at each moment, she expected that he would.

“You are very beautiful,” said Charles. “They never make a mistake, do they? I wonder what prince of prurience spotted you.”

“The duke,” said Hannah. “He looked from his carriage. I was at the market with a baskets of carrots. We grow carrots.”

“Yes, he always comes here,” said Charles.

“What do you mean?”

“To the performances.” Charles was silent for a moment. Then he said, thoughtfully, “He sits close to the stage. Not in his box, usually. He wants to be able to see if your nipples are stiff.”

Hannah almost raised her hands to cover her breasts.

“Yes,” said Charles. “Like yours are now.”

Hannah blushed, but somewhere within her, traitorous and insistent, was a spurt of pleasure and excitement. Even Charles found her body beautiful and desirable. She cried to herself, silently, “Be careful, Hannah!”

Charles looked around at the others. “She stands so beautifully, as if showing the whole world her titties.” Her hips are strong, like a man’s. She holds her chin like the Countess Morat—but with more justification, I venture.”

All around her, like a pressure on her body, she felt gazes. Each time Charles complimented her, impersonally, like a man commenting on a fine steed, she felt the forbidden pleasure break through her defenses. She fought it, but it came. Charles said, “She is only 18 and already a beautiful woman. It takes your breath away, doesn’t it? A hateful, hot blush came to Hannah’s neck. Charles said, “I feel my prick getting stiff? Don’t you?” Laughter all around her.

“You fainted today, didn’t you?” asked Charles. He waited, demanding an explanation. Hannah said, simply, “Yes. I must have.”

“You never had seen naked grown men?”

“I never saw anyone naked,” said Hannah, in a whisper. “Just my brothers, little boys.”

“All right, lads,” said Charles, glancing around. “Light the gaslights. We have work to do.” At each moment, as the light in the room increased, as though to illuminate every part of her nakedness, Hannah expected them to attack her. But they seemed almost lethargic.

“Now,” said Charles, “I can have one of these eager young men hold you, while I give you your lesson or you can cooperate. But you already have heard that, today, and know what I mean.”

Hannah said, only, “Please.” She had begun to shake. “Please.” But then she thought, Maria’s advice had worked so far. And she said, as calmly as she could, “I will hold still, for you.”

Charles frowned. “You already have changed,” he said. “You learn, don’t you? That will help you, here.”

Then Hannah gave a brief cry, and shrunk back. Charles had lifted his hands and placed them over her bare breasts. No man had touched her breasts, ever. He said, “Are you cooperating, Hannah?”

With all her willpower, Hannah forced herself to straighten up. She felt her breasts pressing against his hands. And that unspeakable excitement ran through her. His dark, strong hands covered her breasts; she felt her nipples pushing against his palms. He opened his fingers and let the stiff nipples peek between them.