Whiplash (8 page)

Chapter Six

At seven o’clock sharp I was standing in line with the other girls, all of us visibly anxious.  I kept telling myself that morning would come soon enough – that all of it could only last for a finite amount of time.  It didn’t improve my disposition though, and I just stood in that line silently praying to be blessed with the fortitude it would take to survive until dawn.

Laughter rolled from the foyer and into the parlor, sending with it a wave of bourbon-scented cigar smoke.  Julian’s powerful voice bellowed over all the others, and his guests all sounded very enthused and entertained by his banter.

“We’ll have to see how long Mr. Pike can last, gentlemen.  From what Mrs. Pike talks around town, it should be a relatively easy night on whomever he draws.”

“Well, I do believe you’ve just talked yourself into trouble, Mr. Devereaux,” said a man - presumably Mr. Pike - walking through the arched doorway into the parlor. “Because
I
intend prove you wrong, sir! And when I do, your wench won’t be any good to anyone for a solid week!”

More laughter ensued at his brash comment, and he seemed rather pleased with himself as his companions all clapped his back in encouragement.  He was a portly man – probably around fifty years old; with thinning white hair, a red face, and yellowed, scattered teeth.  My stomach rolled and knotted from my repulsion, and I could barely keep my dinner down at the thought of me having to be with him for the night. The patrons all entered the parlor, each of them surveying the ten of us, sizing us up.

              “Now then,” said Julian, “we can get on with our business here.”  He pulled a little sachet from his pocket and jostled the contents.  A grin spread over his mouth as he eyed each of us, one by one, with some kind of perverse pride in us all.  “Mr. Pike, you may have first honors sir,” Julian said as he held the little pouch out for Mr. Pike to reach into.

He pulled out a smooth, black stone and held it up for everyone to see.  In seconds, Jet was kneeling in front of him with her eyes cast down to the floor.  He nodded his approval to Julian and then slid the stone into his pant pocket.

During the next few minutes, three more men drew stones, sending Turquoise, Pearl, and Emerald over to kneel at their feet.  After they were situated Julian cleared his throat, and in a manner that was a little too knowing said, “Now it
seems
that we’ve more suitors than ladies tonight.  This next draw will be for the both of the DeCortes gentlemen.”

“Well go on, son!” snapped the older of the two.  “Get us a live one!”  He leered at all of us that had yet to be claimed, and when his son pulled out the stone he’d chosen, my heart sank.  It was a sparkling, clear, colorless stone.  When Hannah saw it, she instinctively caught my hand and squeezed it.  I squeezed back quickly and then let her fingers slide over my palm as she left my side to go kneel between the two men.

A single tear spilled from each of her eyes and splashed down onto the skirt of her white gown.  Julian saw her fear and sadness and looked right at me, finding the same expression.  I bit my lip to distract me from the sorrow in my heart over my friend.    Still, I had to keep my wits about me if I was going to make it through the night. 

Coral and Amber, Opal and Jade were drawn next, leaving only a red stone in the sachet.  Julian spilled it out into the last man’s hand, and I was on my knees in front of him even before the ruby made it to his pocket.  The man’s shoes looked to be straight from the cobbler – they were smooth and unscathed, and the light of a chandelier overhead reflected off of their shiny leather.  In fact, every man’s shoes looked new and expensive, and it made me wonder just how much money Julian would be making that night.  Whatever the figure, it couldn’t have been enough as far as I was concerned.

Julian went to stand at the entryway of the parlor and addressed all his patrons, giving them their final instruction.  “Gentlemen, if you’ll all step across the way into the lounge, you can have a drink before retiring upstairs with your lady.  Remember, they’re at your full disposal with the exception of their wombs.  These are not breeding gals, gentlemen, and believe me when I say that
none
of you can afford to put any of my ladies out of commission.”  He paused for several moments, perhaps waiting for any dissention. It never came, of course, so he continued.

“In the morning, you will each return your stone to me.  Your girl
will
be thoroughly inspected. If there’s anything amiss, then you’ll answer to me,
and
my beloved weapon.”  I peeked out of the corner of my eye in time to see him pull his coat back to reveal his whip, hanging coiled at his side.  I shivered reflexively then did my best to recover and mask my anxiety.

“So if there isn’t anything else, I will leave you all to it – goodnight.”  And then, he was gone up the stairs and out of sight.

The men spent enough time in the lounge to each have several spots of liquor along with a cigar.  The DeCortes men were the first to leave, both eager to defile my friend all night long.  After about another hour, the lounge began to lose its occupants as the girls were taken upstairs for servitude.  I was the last one taken up.  When we reached the top of the stairs, the sounds of creaking wood and iron bounced off the walls and filled the hallway - most of the girls were already fully engaged 

We reached the door to my room.  It was closed, though I’d left it open on my way down to the parlor earlier in the evening.  My caller reached around me and opened it, hastily shoving me into the room ahead of him.  I stumbled in and caught myself on a bedpost.  Before I could right myself and turn around those two shiny, black shoes were positioned on either side of me, and hot breath was rolling down my neck.

His calloused, knotted fingers found the laces on my dress and quickly went to work untying them.  I tried to reach up and do it myself, but he just grunted out a ‘NO’ and slapped my hand away.  He ripped the bottom of my bodice when his impatience got the better of him, and the sound of the fabric ripping only excited him even more.

I tried to close my eyes and float away, just like I’d done when Caesar was on me, but I couldn’t.  I wasn’t able to escape the coppery, whiskey-laced stench of his breath, or the feel of his hands scraping over my skin like sandpaper.  He guided me to lie over the mattress, and nudged my feet apart with his own.  My dress was flipped up over my backside and my face was pushed down into the cushion of the bed. 

Just like that, I was right back in Master Bowden’s yard, with schoolteacher Graves pushing to get into me from behind.  I waited and waited for Master Bowden to save me with his rifle, but it never happened.  Instead, the man with the ruby in his pocket wiped a saliva slickened hand over my anus, and then shoved his manhood into me with all his weight behind it.

That first thrust felt like it had set me on fire and split me clean in two.  I opened my mouth to scream, but my voice wouldn’t come.  I buried my face in my red duvet while grasping handfuls of it with my trembling fingers.  Relief from the pain finally came as a result of my own blood lubricating my opening.  He quickened his stroke to a fevered pace and dug his fingers into my hips for leverage.  After a dozen or so brutal thrusts, I felt him swell inside of me and then fill me with his semen.

“My Lord,” he breathed as he collapsed over top of me.  He heaved in and out, his sweat running down off his face onto the skin between my shoulder blades.  He stayed there, embedded in me, until his trembling subsided.  Then, he pulled himself out of me and spun me around quickly while pushing me down to kneel in front of him.  I had to taste the acrid mixture of blood, sweat, and semen until he deemed himself to be sufficiently clean, but even then he was far from finished.

He stripped me down so I was completely naked and ordered me to lay face up on the bed.  I had a hard time lifting my leg up onto the mattress – the searing pain in my backside was so bad I could hardly move at all.  He didn’t, however, take any pity on me.  Rather, he grabbed me by my hair and lifted and threw me onto the bed.  I landed with a jolt in the middle of the mattress, and even though the force was enough to rattle the bedposts, more noise echoed in the room than could have been made by the bed alone.

He leapt up onto the bed and pinned my arms to my sides with his thighs.  His blue eyes were studded with black circles, and the darkness I saw in them terrified me.  The look was that of a wanton man – a man operating outside the bounds of sanity.  He couldn’t have forgotten Julian’s admonition, but it was clear that his bestial nature had won out over any sense of reason.  His shirt and trousers were removed from his body in seconds. He lowered himself back down to hover over my body before parting my legs with his knees and wedging himself between them.

At first, I didn’t really try to fight him.  I mean…I put up enough of a struggle I suppose, but there was no
real
fight in me.  I hadn’t yet thought about what being impregnated might mean for me.  Once I did though, I felt a panic sweep through me.  I had one job at Maison Devereaux, and if I couldn’t do it then there was just no telling what would happen to me.  Once the reality of that set in, I began to fight him off as best I could.  I scratched up his face and beat on his chest, but he was too big and too heavy for me to stop him from pushing his way into me.

I began to kick and throw my legs about in hopes of throwing him enough for me to get from underneath him.  My efforts only incensed him, and he raised an open hand and slapped me across my face with it.  All I could see was white light for a brief moment.  When my vision cleared, I saw the back of his hand ready to come down on the other cheek.

Back and forth, left to right he slapped my face.  Each blow made my head a little foggier and my lip a little bloodier.  After the sixth blow, he gasped and his fingers darted up to his throat.  His eyed bulged out and began to redden as the tail of Julian’s whip was cinched tight around his neck. 

“FONTENOT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Julian roared from in front of the unhinged closet door.  “I’LL KILL YOU!”

One pull of his arm sent Mr. Fontenot hurdling off the bed and across the room.  The whip uncoiled from around his neck, and Julian strode over to where he lay on the ground coughing and driveling.  I used the blankets on my bed to wrap myself up as I watched the madness unfold right in front of me.

Mr. Fontenot was picked up by the scruff and slammed against the wall.  Julian’s left hand held the man’s face against the wall while the right one held a pistol to the base of his skull.  He turned and searched for me in the room.  It took a few scans before he spotted me all wrapped up in my blankets, my blood pooling in a spot on the red duvet.  His eyes shot fire when he saw that, and he slowly swiveled his head to look back at Mr. Fontenot.

“You’ve hurt my girl over there, Fontenot,” Julian growled through his teeth.  “You had only one restriction, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“She’s a nigger gal, Devereaux – just a nigger!  Why should this bitch get more respect -”

The butt of Julian’s gun crashed into Mr. Fontenot’s jaw, sending his blood and teeth flying into the wall.  I followed the sound of light splashing and saw a puddle forming on the ground between his trembling legs.

“Mind your tongue, Pierre Fontenot,” Julian said with composed disdain.  He looked down at the floor and saw the urine.  “
Tut-tut-tut
… You’ve just soiled my rug, you animal.  Go get your clothes, and come back over here.” 

Julian backed away enough to allow Mr. Fontenot to peel himself off the wall.  He retrieved his clothes from the floor and walked back over to where Julian stood, next to the wet spot. 

“Now clean it, Fontenot.”

“What?”

“I said…now clean it, Fontenot.  Right. Now.”

“Surely you’re putting me on, Devereaux.  You can’t really expect me to clean that.  I am a patron of your establishment - not the help!”  Julian chuckled to himself and pointed the pistol right at Pierre’s groin.

“You’d better not…” Julian warned when he saw that Mr. Fontenot was about to pee on the floor again.  “Now… You’re going to clean
my
floor, and you’ll do it with
your
clothes.  Or else, I’ll pull this trigger and splatter your manhood all over this room.” 

Before I could finish blinking, Pierre Fontenot was on his hands and knees using his clothes as a sponge.  It took him a good two minutes to get it done to Julian’s satisfaction, and less than one to put his urine-soaked clothes back on his body.  He stood over at the door with his fingers wrapped around the handle.  Just before he made to pull the door open, Julian gave him some parting advice.

“Oh, and Mr. Fontenot… If I
ever
catch you on this property again, I’ll put you in a pen with my biggest field hand.”  Julian let that information sink in for a bit, and when Mr. Fontenot’s face indicated his understanding, Julian continued.  “His dick is much bigger than yours, so I can’t imagine it’d be a pleasant experience for you, Pierre.  Now give me my stone, and get the fuck out of my house.”

He returned the ruby to Julian and left the room.  Julian followed closely behind him with the pistol trained on his back.  He pulled the door shut behind him and locked it from the outside.

I didn’t move from my spot until I was absolutely sure that Mr. Fontenot was out of the house and off the property.  Nearly an hour passed before I uncovered myself and slid down off the bed.  I went to my washroom, ran some water in the basin, and sprinkled in a handful of Epsom salt.  I did the same thing in the bathtub and after I’d cleaned myself up, I went back to my room to dress.