Angela brought a very late breakfast in on a tray.
Peter had slept all night and most of the morning. The sun was high. He finally felt rested and his body was beginning to feel more like the familiar machine which he knew, and if not exactly loved, then certainly less abused. After breakfast he did a little gentle physio, watched over by his resident nurse, rather fetchingly attired in a caftan that suggested she was naked beneath. When he'd finished she knelt at his feet and gently began to massage his aching legs. She pushed her hair back off her face and handed him a towel.
"How does that feel?" To his surprise her voice was throaty and excited.
He glanced down at her. A fine line of perspiration had lifted on her top lip and she was glowing with pleasure.
"Do you enjoy waiting on me?" he asked casually.
She bit her lip and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do."
He smiled, as she turned her attentions back to manipulating the muscles in his calves.
"Take off your caftan."
She flinched and then glanced up as if she had misheard him. "What?"
"I prefer my masseurs to be naked."
Angela's hands lifted slowly to the neck of her robe. Her fingers trembled as she struggled with the tie and then pushed the fabric back over her shoulders. Her heavy breasts fleetingly brushed his legs as the material slithered to the floor.
It was obvious that the role of body slave came naturally to her. He stroked her face and without another word she bent lower and pressed her lips to his toes. Her kisses lifted higher, ankles, calves, knees, thighs – she pushed aside his dressing gown and traced a line of wet kisses to the hard arc of his cock. Peter leant back and moaned softly. His lessons were paying unexpected dividends. Her lips closed around him almost gratefully, sucking his cock deep into her warm compliant mouth.
Her breasts pressed onto his thighs as she worked on and on. Her lips and her kisses drove away the pain in his body as he was caught up in the compelling spiral of pleasure. She worked him skilfully, her fingers tightening rhythmically around the base of his cock while her lips worked around its sensitive crown. The moment of release was so close; Peter's breaths came in hot desperate snorts as Angela's tongue and fingers worked a wicked dark magic.
Finally, just before the white hot crystals flooded his mind, he jerked his cock out from between her lips in time to splash her breasts and face with hot steaming semen. She gasped, stunned by the liquid exploding in glittering plume across her. He cupped her breasts, twisting her nipples. She let out a little mew of pain. He grinned and dipped his finger into the slick trail of pleasure where it trickled down over her skin. Slowly he traced patterns back and forth, marking her with his pleasure, making her his. She began to writhe, his touch seemingly driving her wild with desire.
"Please," she whispered desperately. "Please."
He drew a trail of semen up over her throat to her waiting lips. Her mouth seized upon it, drawing his finger deep into her mouth, lapping at his excitement.
He smiled, watching her face. Her eyes were closed, her features suffused with pleasure as if the taste of his delight had evoked rapture. Her ripe breasts were flushed with excitement, the intricate spirals of semen adding a strange exotic glisten to her flesh.
"What do you want?" he said quietly.
Angela's eyes snapped open.
"What do you want?" he repeated more slowly.
She blushed crimson.
Peter's face hardened. "Tell me, I won't ask you again."
"I want you to – to -" she looked at him, eyes alight with need. "I want you to fuck me," she said desperately. "I need you to make me come, please."
He laughed dryly. "Stand up," he said, straightening his dressing gown to cover his exhausted cock. "Open you legs."
Angela's face was scarlet, her nakedness raw and almost uncanny. He slipped a finger inside her, and grunted with satisfaction. Her quim was so wet that she was dripping. Her juices ran down over his fingers. His thumb brushed her clitoris and she quivered with pleasure. Slowly he circled the engorged peak, each touch rewarded by Angela letting out a little eager whimper of delight.
She came in seconds, impaling herself again and again on his fingers, her sex clutching and tightening around him until finally he pulled out from inside her and she collapsed back at his feet in a sobbing gasping heap. He smiled, wiping his fingers on a towel she had given him.
"Get up," he said. "I'm going to have a shower and then get back to the computers."
Angela, still red faced, glanced up at him.
"Thank you," she muttered thickly and began to drag her caftan back on.
Slowly she got to her feet and started to tidy away his breakfast tray. He noticed that she hadn't re-tied the neck of the robe and the curve of her heavy breasts was clearly visible. She was learning. At the door she turned.
"By the way, who is Magenta?"
Peter stiffened. "What?"
"I came in to check on you last night. I thought I heard you moving around. You were talking in your sleep. The only word I could make out was 'Magenta'."
Peter tried to retain his composure, but couldn't resist glancing at the carefully waterproofed box beside his bed. Angela was still watching him.
"You really don't want to know," he said flatly.
Angela stood the tray down and crept closer.
"Oh, but you're wrong. I really do want to know. Look, Peter, if you're in some sort of trouble maybe I can help. For God's sake, I'm helping you already. You say you don't want to put me at risk, but surely, just by being here, you're putting me at risk already? I want you, I want…" her voice faded, the colour returning to her cheeks.
Peter leant back in the wheelchair. She was right. He glanced back at Magenta.
"If I tell you -" he began.
Angela nodded. "When you tell me, then I'll help you all I can. I used to operate a computer."
Peter glared at her as she stepped towards the key board. "Don't touch any of this. I have to get in unnoticed. Magenta is my way in."
Angela grinned. "Like a key?"
Peter blew out a long stream of air. "No, not a key, THE key."
He would need Angela to do things which he couldn't do whilst he was still so weak; driving, fetching, carrying. He would have to tell her. He sighed and switched on the computer. Johnson and Fielding's logo appeared out of the gloom. He touched the screen like a talisman.
"All right. Magenta is the key to a huge computer network. There is no way to lock Magenta out. Each time the combination changes Magenta is programmed to change with it. The system and the key, Magenta, were created at the same time."
Angela crouched beside him, listening with obvious interest. Her eyes were alight. His eyes lingered on the inviting shadowy curve of her breasts.
With determination he dragged his mind back from her enticing body and keyed in an opening sequence.
"This is the front door." The design on the computer screen changed seamlessly into a menu page. "All lovingly designed by the same man."
Angela stared at the screen and then across at Peter Howard. "You?" she whispered. "You designed Magenta, didn't you?"
Peter nodded. "Yes, it was me. I designed the whole package. Magenta is the only key into a huge business network. A corrupt business network. Johnson and Fielding are involved in manipulation on a global scale. With Magenta I can unlock their system and give the information to anyone who wants it: Interpol, the Fraud Squad, MI5, FBI, CIA, DPP -"
Angela reached forward and stroked the waterproof wrappings of Magenta. "How many are there?"
Peter grinned. "This is the only one – at the moment. That's what I was doing when the plane crashed. Taking it to Switzerland to get a friend to give me a back way into this system." He indicated the computer screen.
Angela pulled a face. "This is the only one?"
Peter nodded again. "That's right. I'm good. I made it fool proof. The only way we can get a copy, is to let it -" he grinned – "the term I used was to let them was mate with the master computer. It will then make a copy which I can then transfer off from the main system."
"You mean like a baby?"
"More or less, I'd intended to make a copy and put Magenta back before anyone knew it was gone. Trouble is, since I've been in hospital, someone seems to have closed off the back doors I left open."
Angela glanced at the second screen. Roderick Banyon's message still hovered in the top left hand corner.
"And what about your girl friend?" she said flatly. "What about Emily? Are you going to trade Magenta for her?"
Peter felt a gut wrenching pain. It was the question he couldn't bring himself to face. Magenta was too big to trade for… he stopped the train of thought, snatching it back. "Even if I traded Magenta I'd undoubtedly lose her anyway. There has to be some other way. The people who are interested in this machine are totally unscrupulous."
"Johnson and Fielding?"
Peter shook his head. "A lot of people are interested in who has access to this knowledge. Organised crime, Dictatorships -" he stopped. "Look, I've told you enough, probably too much. Emily is the bait in a trap to draw me out into the open. If they know I'm alive, if they know where I am, none of us are safe."
Angela pushed herself to her feet. "I'll make us some coffee. Is there anything else you want?"
Peter grinned, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. "Oh yes," he murmured. "I want a lot more."
Angela wriggled away from him. "Shower first. I've got to ring in to let the hospital know I won't be in this week. I won't be long."
Watched by a different guard and Kai, Emily showered in the bathroom at the end of the landing. The events of the previous night weren't mentioned as Kai dried and oiled her body. Emily's backside still glowed from the attentions of her late night visitor. She was relieved when Kai undid the harness that had held the anal dildo in place. After tending to Emily's nipple and quim rings Kai removed the fine covering of stubble that had grown over the lips of her sex and rubbed a soothing lotion into the delicate flesh. Emily surrendered totally to the other woman's attentions. What other choice did she have?
When Kai was finished she looked appraisingly at Emily. "I'll take you to Leonora now. She wants to see you before today's auction."
Emily tensed. Kai grinned, running a finger gently over the girl's throat. "Relax, you haven't broken any of the rules today, have you? You'll be fine."
She snapped a leash through Emily's collar and led her through the maze of corridors. On the next floor Kai directed her towards a room which Emily instantly recognised as the clinical room she had been taken into on her arrival at Deuvar. When they reached the door she hesitated; Leonora and another guard were inside, preparing a trolley beside the clinician's couch.
The tiny hard-faced Eurasian women looked up at the sound of their approach. Her eyes had no warmth in them. "Good," she said to Kai. "Bring her over here."
Emily swallowed hard and climbed onto the couch, shivering as the guard fixed her arms above her head.
Leonora glanced down at her. "I'm going to check you're in the same condition as when you arrived – our clients appreciate our honesty. And then -" she glanced at the trolley. "I'm going to give you a contraceptive injection, it will be renewed three monthly whilst you are with us." She paused. "Normally we wait until our girls are sold off, so that their new owners can make the decision. Some of the overseas clients prefer their women to be fertile. Fertility confirms their status; any children born from liaisons at Deuvar are taken and raised in their own homes -"
Emily felt her colour draining as Leonora continued. "Some men prefer women who they can suckle from -"
Emily flinched as the guard lifted her legs into the stirrups for the examination. Leonora's touch was cold and perfunctory. When she had done she pulled off her rubber gloves and smiled narrowly. "Good, everything is still in order. You will remain here until we are ready for you. Kai will help you dress. Remember, we demand obedience. You already know the punishment for disobeying the rules. I would have preferred to have trained you for longer before you were auctioned off, but the powers that be have decided otherwise. Whoever buys you will have exclusive rights to your body for twenty four hours only. After that your training with us will resume whilst you earn you keep."
Emily considered the words with a growing sense of apprehension as Leonora left.
As soon as she had gone, Emily strained experimentally against the ties that held her wrists. Remembering the night she had been brought to Deuvar, she was certain that the medical room hadn't been far from the outside – and freedom. Her body was well oiled; if she could just slip the leather straps down over her wrists. She strained a little harder, wriggling on the leather couch.
Kai sighed theatrically. "Take my advice. Don't even think about it. There's no escape. Deuvar stands in its own grounds; we're miles from anywhere. The security guards have trained dogs. Even if you make it outside you won't get past the first fence."
Emily bit her lip and tried to relax as Kai unfolded a dress from a box. It was a simple shift made of thin white cotton, so finely woven that it was nearly transparent.
"Here," said Kai, leaning over her. "We've got work to do." Emily felt the tension in her stomach return as Kai cupped one of her breasts.
Kai let another deep sigh. "For God's sake, don't make it worst for yourself. I'm going to make you look lovely." As she spoke she smeared something cold over Emily's nipples; glancing down she could see it was staining her nipples scarlet. The little peaks hardened as the skilful fingers worked the oily dye into them. Next she rubbed gel into Emily's short crew cut, spiking it. Moving lower she snapped a short length of chain between the cuffs Emily wore around her ankles, effectively hobbling her. Finally she unlocked the wrist restraints and helped Emily into the shapeless transparent shift. In one corner of the room the guards watched impassively. Emily glanced right and left wondering whether she had the courage to try and escape.
As if reading her thoughts Kai shook her head. "Don't," she said quietly. "I've told you already. You wouldn't stand a chance -"
Emily caught sight of herself in the full length mirror set in one wall. She truly looked like a slave – broken – as good as naked in spite of the dress. Her oily sleek skin stuck to the thin fabric, revealing every curve and plain. The transparent dress was like a delicate gift wrapping. She shuddered as Kai moved around behind her and slipped a blindfold over her eyes.
"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 -"
Emily shivered. "I don't care about your precious contract!"
Leonora laughed dryly. "You'd better – you're Johnson's revenge for Magenta! You're paying for Peter Howard being a…"
"Hush, hush," interrupted a cultured male voice from across the courtyard.
Emily glanced up. It was the man she had seen at Johnson and Fielding's office the day she had signed the contract. He smiled pleasantly, taking in her dishevelled appearance with obvious delight.
"Well, well, Miss Lawrence, we meet again. I don't think I introduced myself the last time we met. My name is Max Fielding."
Leonora snorted. "This is hardly the moment for formal introductions, Max."
The man laughed. "On the contrary, Leonora, as I'm to watch Miss Lawrence this evening, I thought it was the perfect opportunity." He glanced sharply at Leonora. "And also, my dear, I would prefer it if we kept the other matter to ourselves."
Emily looked at Leonora in time to see the Eurasian women drop her gaze and redden. Magenta, Emily thought, holding onto the name, and Peter Howard – something I'm not supposed to know about. Leonora's expression confirmed her suspicions.
The guard snapped a leash into her collar, and between them they picked her up, carrying her back towards the door of Deuvar.
"Put her in the detention cell," Leonora said coldly. "And don't let her out until it's time for her to go across to the Haroldson's. Do what you like with her but don't fuck her. The Haroldson's have paid a lot for the privilege of being first."
The guard nodded. They carried her away in silence, her heart still racing, her eyes downcast. Upstairs they manhandled her past cell twenty seven towards a barred door.
Emily stiffened; inside she could see manacles hanging from a beam in the ceiling and below on the floor, ankle restraints. She began to struggle in earnest as the guards dragged her inside.
The man who had abused her the previous evening seized her feet and snapped her ankles into position. When he was done they both took her wrists and lifted them above her head.
Spread-eagled she was barely able to move; totally helpless. The guard she knew caught hold of her chin and kissed her roughly, tongue forcing between her lips.
"You should really learn to co-operate," he whispered. "Things will go so much better if you do as you're told."
Emily whimpered as he let his hands move down over her body, tugging at the shift – now reduced to barely more than a rag – that partly covered her body.
He grinned at her discomfort. "We can do anything we like now. Leonora won't say a word, she'll be only too happy to let us loose on you. Trying to escape is going to get a lot of people into trouble. Do you know what Leonora will do to Kai? She trusted Kai."
Emily bit her lip, imagining the Oriental girl's face. The guard stepped closer. She could feel the meaty bulk of his swollen cock pressing against her belly. He rubbed himself against her, rubbing his hardened phallus lower and lower towards the delicate silver ring. His gaze was steely.
"She'll whip her until she can barely stand. Kai had earned herself a good position here. Thanks to you all that's gone out of the window. There are a few of the clients who think Kai's got too big for her boots. They've been waiting for a moment like this. Up until now she used her position to get out of having to service them, not now, they'll fuck her every way, baby. She'll hate you -"
Emily started to sob, her arm muscles screaming as they strained against the manacles. "I didn't mean to," she whimpered. "I didn't want to get Kai into trouble."
The guard snorted. "Talking too, breaking the silence rule. You're getting yourself into deep deep water, baby." He paused and ran a speculative finger down over one of her nipples. "Did you like what I gave you last night? I was telling my friend here how I had you baying for more. Wasn't I, Gus?"
Wide-eyed, Emily looked over towards the other guard. The man leered at her and began to undo his trousers. Emily screamed as the first guard pulled her close and kissed her. His hands moved lower, jerking her buttocks apart.
"Scream all you like. No one is going to come running to rescue you. I'm going to hold you open for my friend, Gus. By the way, my name is Birdie. You and I are going to be friends for a very long time. When the Haroldson's have done with you – and when they've done, you'll know all about it – I'm going make sure I'm the one who brings you back here and then I'm going to fuck you so hard -" He jerked her tight against him, pressing her breasts into his chest, pulling her forward so that her backside was pushed out.
She felt the second guard moving round her, his hands dragging up the skimpy ragged shift. She froze as she felt something slick and warm glide over the cheeks of her bottom. The man's fingers stroked over the bud of her anus, rubbing lubricant into her most secret recesses. She screamed as she felt him trying to get into her without prelude and her mind went blank as he pressed his cock home.
Birdie laughed and held her tight against him as she sobbed and struggled, smoothing her ruined hair with one large paw while he pressed his lips to hers. "Scream all you like, babe. no-one's going to come and rescue you."