At this moment, five floors below, her private secretary entered the lobby of the building with a briefcase under her arm.
Erika Kostler was a very pretty girl, a slim brunette twenty-five years old. The men in the lobby turned their heads to gaze at her as she made her way to the lift. She was wearing a provocatively cut blue silk dress and shoes with high stiletto heels. She gave the impression that she was wearing nothing else. Her legs were very shapely, her waist was small, and her bosom firm. She enjoyed the knowledge that eyes were undressing her as she got into the lift.
She pressed the button of her employer's floor. She had come, ostensibly, to bring some files and papers from the office; in reality, she had come to give herself some pleasure.
Her employer, she knew, had left for Paris that afternoon for the beginning of a five-week foreign business trip, and she assumed that the maids would have been given a holiday. The flat, therefore, would be empty. She had a key to it, for one of her duties was to keep her employer's home-desk tidy as she kept the desk at the office, and she came frequently in the evenings to do this work.
She had come one evening several weeks before, when her employer was at a dinner party, and had found the flat empty. She had seized the opportunity of inspecting more than the study in which the desk was situated. She had gone to the bedroom and opened drawers and cupboards, fingering and admiring the clothes they contained.
It was the wardrobe, however, that gave her a strong, and unexpected, thrill of delight. She had found a number of garments made of rubber-a raincoat, a negligee, a large apron, a smock, a floor-length cape, and even a pair of pyjamas.
Her thrill of delight increased as she gazed at the garments. She had a powerful fetish for any clothing that was made of rubber.
Her own wardrobe, of course, contained many similar garments, which she wore next to her skin on all possible occasions. She experienced a good deal of physical sexual excitement when she was wearing them. She experienced, in addition, a strong mental excitement whenever she saw anyone, man or woman, wearing even a simple raincoat, provided it was made of some sort of rubber. She would mentally undress the person and picture herself slipping the garment back on again over his, or her, naked body. And her heart would begin to pound…
The sight of so many different rubber things in her employer's wardrobe took her breath away. She took them out, one by one, and held them against her, letting her hand slide over the cool, silky material. It was when she took the pyjamas in her hands, light flimsy things of pale-blue rubberised silk, and realised that these at least must necessarily be worn by her employer over naked skin, that the blood went to her head and she sat dizzily on the side of the bed, her heart pounding furiously. She let herself fall slowly on her back, and pulled the garments up to her face. She breathed in the sweet, heady mixture of rubber and perfume. Her loins tingled with sexual longing.
She lay for a few moments and then stood up. She took off all her clothes. She slipped quickly into the pyjamas, shivering with pleasure as the material enveloped her. She stepped to a long mirror and regarded herself. She looked down quickly at the front of the pyjamas and frowned in puzzlement. The material was covered with many dark spots. She put a finger to one of them and scratched. It came away in a sort of dust. She shrugged her shoulders. Her employer had obviously been careless and had spilt something. The important thing now was the discovery that a very lovely woman seemed to have the same fetish as she. There was nothing she could do about it, of course; it was out of the question for her to speak of it. But it did not matter. The knowledge itself was enough. It would be very exciting, in future, working for her employer, picturing her in all these garments.
She stood for some moments more, and then, fearful lest the maids should return and find her, she took off the pyjamas, replaced them and the other things in the wardrobe, dressed herself, and left.
Tonight, she thought, as she got out of the lift, there would be no hurry. She could take off her clothes and put on all the exciting garments, slowly, one after the other, and take all the time she wanted.
She let herself into the flat and closed the door behind her. She was surprised to find lights burning. She heard a swishing sound, and something like a human groan, from the direction of the bedroom. She paused for a second, surprised, and then walked quickly into the living-room.
She was brought to an abrupt halt by the sight of a cruel- looking whip lying curled on a newspaper on the floor. Then she saw the other instruments on the divan.
"Gott in Himmel!" she breathed. "What's going on here?"
As the sound came again from the bedroom, followed by another groan, she realised that it was the swish of some sort of whip. For a moment her impulse was to turn and run, but curiosity got the better of her. She walked on tip-toe to the open bedroom door.
Her astonishment was so great, as she took in the scene, that she could scarcely breathe. She stood at the door and watched her employer, naked under a long black rubber cape, flogging someone who was hanging from a hook in a door. His back was covered with blood and he groaned piteously as each lash struck him.
A part of her mind told her to go-to go at once, quietly and quickly. But she stood there watching, unable to move.
And at that moment her employer turned her head and saw her standing in the doorway. Her whalebone birch stayed motionless above her head for a full three seconds. Then she let it fall to her side. "What are you doing here, Erika?" she said coldly.
Erika swallowed some saliva and stammered: "I brought some papers, Fraulein Reitter. I-I'm sorry. I thought you left for Paris this afternoon."
Marlene Reitter stared at her for several moments. Then she laughed. "Yes, of course you did. I changed my mind at the last moment." She paused and laughed again. "It's not your fault, but it's rather unfortunate that you should have come here now. I think we had better sit down and have a drink-and a talk."
Erika nodded her head quickly. "Of course, Fraulein Reitter. Anything you say." She glanced again at the man who hung from the hook. Her eyes slowly widened. "But that's- isn't that Carl Gunther from the design department?"
"It is," said Marlene. "And I think I'd better let him go home now. We shall have to have our talk. Unless"-her eyes twinkled a little-"you're a sadist, too. You wouldn't like to give him a bit of a whipping yourself?"
Erika caught her breath sharply. "There's nothing I'd like better," she said quickly.
Her employer raised her eyes. "You are a sadist, then?"
"No, I don't think so," said Erika. "I don't really know. I only know I'd like to give Carl Gunther a few strokes with that whip."
"I have a score to settle with him."
Marlene held out the birch. "Go ahead. You'll tell me about it later."
Erika took it in her right hand and gazed in fascination at its blood-drenched ends. She walked across the room to the man. "Do you know who is going to whip you now, Carl? Why don't you turn your head and look?"
He twisted his neck with difficulty and glanced at her. She saw the surprise in his eyes.
"Yes," she said. "Erika Kostler in person. With a lovely whip in her hands. You can easily understand, can't you, why she's going to whip you?" She raised the birch quickly and swung it across his back. A savage thrill coursed through her. She lifted the birch again.
"Stop a moment," said Marlene, behind her. "You'd better put something over your dress. His blood is flying all over the place. You don't want ruin it." She opened her wardrobe and took out one of the raincoats that Erika had examined a few weeks previously. It was a shimmery white thing, made of very flimsy rubber. She held it open for Erika to slip into. "This will protect it."
So, thought Erika, this is the reason why your pyjamas have those spots on them. Well, well! Aloud, she said: "Thank you very much, Fraulein Reitter. You are most thoughtful." She thrilled at the idea that Marlene Reitter was holding the garment for her. She wished she could take off her clothes before she put it on. But this was not the time. Later perhaps. Who knew what was going to happen later? Events had begun to move fast, and most surprisingly.
She slipped into the shimmery raincoat, transferring the birch from one hand to the other as she put her arms into its sleeves. She buttoned it and then belted it tightly. She lifted the birch again. She hit with all her force. The whalebone ends splayed out as they fell, and cut into a wide area of the bleeding back. "This is what I've wanted to do," she muttered breathlessly, as she lashed rapidly and repeatedly, "what I've dreamed of doing, for the last six months. Oh God, I'd like to kill you with this whip!"
"You may do," said Marlene, a few moments later, after another dozen lashes had fallen. "You'd better give him a rest. I've been working on him rather a lot myself."
Erika sank on to the side of the bed, panting hard.
"I'd better stop altogether," she said. "While I can. I might not be able to in a little while."
Marlene took the birch from her hand. "You must tell me all about it. But first I'll cut him down. He can rest a bit and then go home." She went into the living-room and put the birch on to the newspaper with the whip. She opened the cedar chest and took out a large sheet of plastic material. She came back into the bedroom and spread the sheet over the bed, Erika standing up as she did so. "Thank you," she said. "I've got to put this down for him to lie on. He'll really destroy the whole of the bed otherwise." She glanced at the front of the raincoat Erika was wearing. "It's a good thing you put that on."
Erika looked downwards. The raincoat was heavily spattered with blood. "Oh dear," she said. "Let me go and wash it off."
"Later," said Marlene. "We'll have our talk first." She was a little fearful of the outcome of the talk, but it was clearly necessary. Somehow or other, she had to make certain that her secretary would not chatter about what she had seen. "Don't you want to take it off, though?"
"I'd rather keep it on," said Erika quickly, and added, "until I go and wash the blood off."
"All right," said Marlene. "There's a pair of scissors in the top drawer behind you. Give me them, will you?"
Erika found them and brought them to her employer. Marlene stepped up on the chair and began to cut through the twine that she had tied to the hook.
Erika gazed up at her in openmouthed wonder. She had long realised that her employer was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, but she had never dreamed of seeing her like this, totally naked under a heavenly-looking long black rubber cape. She wished she could be naked, too, under h r own shimmery raincoat. She wished they could lie together on the bed, and fondle each other. She shivered a little as she thought of the whipping she would herself receive if she were to dare to express the wish-and she realised that she would not mind being whipped by so lovely a creature.
The man's body slumped heavily downwards as the twine was cut. He staggered and just prevented himself from falling. He moved his legs stiffly and painfully, and held out his thumbs as Marlene stepped down from the chair. She cut through the twine that bound them. He began to massage them gingerly. His eyes were half-shut and expressionless.
Marlene untied the stocking at the back of his head and took the panties from his mouth. "Now you can lie down."
He moved like an automaton to the side of the bed. He flopped forward on to his stomach.
"Now," said Marlene, putting an arm round her secretary's waist and leading her towards the living-room, "we can go and have a drink and a talk."
She released the girl's waist when they were inside the other room. "I'll get out of this cape and put some clothes on."
"Oh, please don't," said Erika at once. "Please keep it on. Stay as you are."
Marlene raised her eyes. "Of course-if you want. But why? I'm finished with whipping for tonight."
Do you only wear it for whipping, Fraulein Reitter?"
"Yes, of course."
"Because of blood splashing about?"
"Yes. Whyever else?"
Erika's face fell. "Oh, nothing. I only thought-" She wondered for a moment whether to say what she had thought. She decided she had better not-or, at least, not yet. "But please keep it on. It looks so wonderful on you."
Marlene raised her eyebrows again. "There's more in this than meets the eye. But, all right I'll keep it on if you want. You must tell me the real reason later on. It seems we have quite a lot to talk about tonight." She put her hand to her right shoulder and pulled the folds clear. They fell, with a quick swooshing sound, into their proper position around the right-hand side of her body. With some surprise she saw Erika catch her breath. She said nothing. She went to the bar- cabinet. "What would you like to drink? Whisky? Brandy? Kirsch? I think there's everything."
"A little brandy, please."
"Straight, or with soda?"
"Straight, please."
"All right. Do sit down and make yourself comfortable." She poured brandy into two balloon glasses and returned to the centre of the room. She gave one glass to Erika, who was still standing. "Do sit down." She sat down herself in a deep armchair. The folds of her cape fell open for an instant and revealed the whole length of her lovely legs. She covered them at once.
Erika sat in another deep chair facing her. She crossed her legs, smoothing the shimmery rubber of her raincoat over her knees.
"Zum Wohl," said Marlene, raising her glass.
"Zum Wohl, Fraulein Reitter," said Erika, and took a welcome drink from her glass. Though outwardly she seemed fairly calm and possessed, she was in a turmoil of emotions and sensations. To be sitting here with her lovely employer, who was quite naked under a maddenly exciting cape, she herself wearing a beautiful raincoat whose front was spattered with blood that she had herself made fly, to have the awesome knowledge that only a few feet away from her was a divan that was literally covered with whips and other fearful-looking things, to know that on the bed in the next room was a man who had been savagely flogged both by her employer and by herself, to remember that her employer's wardrobe contained several other exciting garments made of the rubber she loved-these were things that prevented her from feeling calm and possessed in her mind. She strove, however, to keep her outward appearance as collected as she could.
Marlene sipped her drink and regarded her secretary thoughtfully. To say the least, the situation was highly annoying-and possibly dangerous. She had always been very careful with her sadistic activities because, though Munich was a very large city, she was a well-known figure in it. The needs of her publishing company enabled her to make frequent business trips abroad, and she satisfied her sadistic appetites in foreign cities where she was unknown. In Munich she restrained herself as much as she could. It had been easier for her in the past few months because Carl Gunther had fallen helplessly into her clutches, and it was safe to give him a weekly whipping, even in Munich. The circumstances of his fall into her clutches, and her resultant total power over him, ensured that he would never open his mouth outside her flat about the things that happened to him in it. Her secretary-was another matter. She might well open her mouth wide about what she had seen this evening.
She put down her glass and held out a silver cigarette box. "German on the right, Virginian on left."
Erika took a Chesterfield. "Thank you, Fraulein Reitter."
Marlene held the lighter for her. "You said yon had a score to settle with him. I'm terribly interested. Do you want to tell me what it was?"
Erika nodded. "With pleasure." She took another drink. "He gave me a baby and then refused to do anything about it. I didn't expect him to marry me, or anything like that, but-"
"Good heavens!"
"What is it?"
"Nothing, now. I'll tell you later. Go on."
Erika moistened her lips. "Well, I did expect him to do something. Find out where I could get rid of it, for instance. But he refused to do anything. He said I should have it and give it to an orphanage."
"What did you do?"
"I had an abortion."
"Yes, I see." Marlene glanced at her sharply. "You said a moment ago-while you were whipping him-something about six months ago. I think I remember something. You asked me for a week off, didn't you, about six months ago?"
"Yes. It was to have the abortion. And he refused even to pay for it. So you see I had quite a score to settle with him."
"How very, very curious," said Marlene. "My own power over him is because of an abortion.' She had made up her mind. For some time she had been wondering whether to try to spin some plausible tale to her secretary, and hope for the best. Now she decided to tell her the whole truth-and still hope for the best. There would be a good deal more hope, however, since her secretary was not likely to have any sympathy for Gunther in anything concerning an abortion. "Do you remember a girl called Fuchs? Elise Fuchs. She was in the design department, too."
"Yes of course. She died, didn't she, some months ago?"
"She did."
"Peritonitis, wasn't it?
"No. She died of an infection that followed an abortion. It was given out as peritonitis-that is to say, the doctor signed the certificate to say it was peritonitis. But it wasn't."
"Do go on. How does Gunther come into it? Did he arrange it-the abortion, I mean?"
"He did it."
Erika stared. "He did it? He did the abortion? Himself? You can't mean it!"
"I do," said Marlene seriously. "He has some medical knowledge, you know. He started out to become a doctor, but threw it up after two years at the university. So he thought he could do an instrumental abortion himself. He did, in fact. He got rid of the baby. But he killed Elise Fuchs. You should thank your stars that he didn't do the same to you. I'm amazed that he didn't attempt it."
"My God!" said Erika softly. "One of his reasons for not helping me to find an abortionist was that he didn't trust them. He said they were never safe."
"He evidently thought he was safer-with Elise Fuchs, at any rate."
"But the doctor? The certificate showing peritonitis?"
"The doctor is a close friend. They were at the university together."
Erika took a deep breath. "And how did you find out about it?"
"Elise Fuchs sent for me. I was her employer, she had no family. She didn't die at once, you see. She told me all about it. Like you, she was very angry with Gunther. He didn't go anywhere near her after he'd done the abortion. She told me a lot of details and facts which give me now a total power over him. The infection set in soon after I saw her, and when she died I had Herr Gunther up to my office for a little talk."
"I wish I could have seen his face."
"Yes," said Marlene. "It was quite a study." She paused, and then said gently: "You see, I was born a sadist. And this gave me a new victim-a new and absolutely helpless victim." She got up and reached out her hand for Erika's glass. "Let me get you another drink." She went to the bar-cabinet and took her time pouring the brandy. She wanted to give the girl a moment or two to digest this last item of information.
Erika digested it with a blend of surprise and pleasure. She herself had felt the stirrings of sexual sadism from time to time but had done nothing about it; opportunities had been lacking. She had envied other women who, according to vague rumours, had no lack of opportunities; women like her employer: beautiful, worldly, and wealthy enough to do what they wanted. With excitement she realised that a curtain was going to be lifted for her. She was about to hear some definite facts, not vague rumours.
She said: "How wonderful, Fraulein Reitter! How marvellous! Do please tell me more. Do you whip him very often?"
"Once a week."
"Once a week! So often? Do you really? And he has to submit to it!"
"Exactly." Marlene gave her the glass of brandy and sat down again.
"Do you only whip him-or do you do other things? Tortures and so on?"
"Oh, many other things." Marlene laughed. "I'm a thorough-going sadist, you see. I just like to give pain.
"To men only? Or to women, too?"
"I haven't either tortured or whipped a woman yet but I don't see why I shouldn't. I prefer men, though.
"Oh, naturally." Erika was thinking again, however, that she would not at all object to being whipped, or even tortured in other ways, by this lovely woman-provided she wore one of her rubber garments while she was doing the whipping or the torturing.
She's taking this very well, thought Marlene. She seems to be quite excited by the whole situation. I wonder whether she's a sadist herself. She could very easily be. It will be very nice if she is. I can take her with me on my trips. She said: "You seemed to get quite a pleasure from whipping Gunther just now. Was it simply revenge, or anything else? Are you, by any chance, a little sadistic yourself?"
"I don't know," said Erika, running her hand again over the shimmery rubber that covered her knees. "I think I could be. I've often thought about it, anyway. And I've read a lot of books about it. De Sade and so on."
"And you've felt that you'd like to do it?"
"Oh yes. Certainly I've felt that. It's just that I haven't seemed to find the way to it."
So Gunther is the first man you've whipped, is he?"
"Yes, he's the first."
Would you like to do it to someone else-for pure sex, I mean; not for punishment?"
"I'd like to, very much indeed," said Erika simply.
So that's that, thought Marlene, and thank God! If I play my cards carefully, she'll not only be safe she'll also be a very nice little assistant. "Would you like," she said, "to come with me tomorrow on my foreign trip?"
Erika stared at her. "To Paris?"
"To Paris, and then back into Germany. I have to see Baron Franz-Ruller in Kiel on some business but it'll be quite interesting in Kiel too. There's a Swede there called Per Petersen who is quite a masochist. And after that, London."
"Oh, Fraulein Reitter"-Erika's eyes were shining-"are you really serious?"
"Yes, very serious. I'd have taken you on other trips if I'd known you felt like this. I've always gone alone because I need privacy for what I want to do."
Erika gazed at her with awed devotion. "Do you whip and torture people when you go on your trips?"
Marlene laughed. "Of course. I can't do it here in Munich- except to our mutual friend Herr Gunther."
"How do you find them? They're men, of course. You said you haven't whipped or tortured a woman yet. Are foreign men as masochistic as German men?"
"English, American and Scandinavian men are-or perhaps not so much. No one is quite so masochistic as a German man; no one loves so much to be disciplined. But the English and the Americans run a pretty close second. And the Scandinavians aren't far behind."
"What about the French? And the Italians?"
"They're hopeless, really. One can find a masochist here and there, but it's difficult."
"How do you find them? They don't just simply announce that they're masochists, of course. So how do you find your- your victims, as you called them a moment ago?"
Marlene sipped her drink. "There are all sorts of ways. In England, for instance-and in America and Scandinavia-they do announce it, in one way or another. All we've got to do is to put the idea into their minds."
"But how do you do that? If I'd known how to do it, I would have whipped every man who's ever made love to me."
"They've been Germans?"
"Yes."
Marlene laughed. "You poor innocent chicken! All you had to do was to show them a whip or a cane or something, and tell them to bend over."
"I wouldn't have dared. They looked so serious."
"So pompous, you mean. Dear Erika, our menfolk are very pompous in sex. But just take a whip to them and you'll see how unpompous they become. They fall over themselves to kiss our feet."
"Good heavens! Life is going to be more interesting in the future, I can see. But foreign men-Englishmen and so on- aren't so easy, you say? What happens with them? You put the idea into their minds, you say. But how do you do that?"
"I'll show you in the next week or so."
"And do they submit to everything you want to do to them?
"Oh, no. Not by any means. You have to make sure they're quite helpless-tied up and gagged and so on."
"Don't they make a fuss afterwards?"
A fuss? You mean with the police or something?"
"Yea."
"Good heavens, no! Their ego! Think of their ego. Would they like it to be splashed over the front of a newspaper that they've been whipped and tortured by a member of the weaker-.the so-called weaker-sex?"
"No, I suppose not."
"But the best thing of all is to get someone really under your thumb, and let him know what is going to happen to him before it happens."
"How do you do that?"
"I'll show you that, too. There are a number of ways."
Erika took a deep breath. "Oh, life is wonderful! Thank you for taking me, Fraulein Reitter."
"You'd better call me Marlene from now on-when we're off duty, at any rate."
Erika looked at her gratefully. "All right. Thank you- Marlene."
"Good. Now I have something to ask you."
"Do, please. Anything."
"Why did you want me to keep this cape on?"
Erika hesitated for only the merest second. "Because I love rubber. I love any clothing that's made of rubber."
"Sexually, of course?"
"Yes."
"It gives you a thrill to touch it?"
"Oh yes. And to feel it all over my body when I've nothing on."
"But how do I come into it. This cape isn't over your body?"
Erika looked at her shyly. "I-I enjoy seeing someone else wearing it, too. And when it's someone like you"-her words came in a rush-"and when it's over her-I mean, your- naked body, it's all I can do to stop going crazy."
Well, well, thought Marlene, so she's a lesbian, too. She probably doesn't know it, either. There seem to have been a number of men in her life up to now. But she's a lesbian, all right. And that's nice. It'll be pleasant to poke her. I'd like to whip her a little, too. I wonder how she'd take it? Better wait, though, for a bit. Aloud, she said: "You poor darling. Sitting in that raincoat over your clothes all the time. I'm so sorry. Do get undressed and wear it naked." She let the folds of her cape fall a little away from her knees.
Erika stood up at once. "Oh, yes please," she said breathlessly. She slipped out of the raincoat and began to undress rapidly. When she was quite naked she picked up the raincoat again and held it up in front of her for a moment, regarding it adoringly. "It's such a wonderful thing!" She put it slowly over her shoulders, and put her arms into its sleeves.
Marlene stood up. "Let me button it." She put her hands on the girl's shoulders and let them drop slowly, over the rubber surface of the raincoat, to her breasts. Lightly she caressed the firm hillocks. Then, still through the flimsy rubber, she felt for the nipples and squeezed them lightly.
Erika closed her eyes and began to breathe very fast.
"Hasn't a woman done this to you before?" said Marlene.
"No," murmured Erika, dreamily. "But it's heaven, from you."
"Why don't you do the same to me?"
"Oh yes. I'd love to." Erika, her eyes still closed, put up her hands, opened the folds of the cape, and felt for Marlene's breasts. "No," said Marlene. "Do it through the rubber, as I'm doing."
Erika opened her eyes at once and stared at her.
"So you do like rubber, too? It's not only for whipping that you wear it?"
"Of course not," lied Marlene glibly. "I love the feel of it against my skin, just as you do. And I adore the smell of it, too." And that, she thought should do the trick. She'll never open her mouth now.
"Oh, so do I," said Erika, huskily. How marvellously things have turned out, she thought. If only that damned man weren't in the bedroom, lying on her bed, we could perhaps go there ourselves, and lie on the bed, and fondle each other a little.
As if in answer to her thoughts, Carl Gunther appeared in the doorway from the bedroom. "Excuse me, Fraulein Director," he said quietly, seeming not to notice that the two women were almost in each other's arms. "May I take my clothes? You said I could go."
The women pulled away from each other abruptly. "I ought to whip you again," said Marlene, "for not knocking before you come into a room. But never mind. Next time. Let me see your back." She turned to Erika. "I usually do him with iodine before he goes home. I don't want him to get an infection- and rob me of my weekly pleasure."
The man turned his back to her.
Erika gave a gasp as she saw the lacerated skin, the deep weals, the half-congealed blood. For a second she felt a wave of remorse that she had been responsible for some of it. But immediately the remorse was conquered by an exciting sensation of expectation. "I should like," she said slowly, "to give him a few more strokes. May I?"
Marlene shook her head. "He'd never be able to put his clothes on. His blood is nearly dry now, you see. If you whip him again it'll all open up and it'll be morning before he can go home. No, dear, you'll have to wait till we get to Paris."
"Paris? Even Paris? You said Frenchmen aren't very masochistic.
"They're not. But there's an Englishman who lives there who is quite a masochist."
"Oh, I see. How exciting! Will you let me whip him?"
"Of course." Marlene looked closely at the back that had been presented for her inspection. "It'll be all right, but go and get the iodine."
The man went out of the living-room, across the bedroom, and into the bathroom. He returned in a moment, holding a bottle and some cotton wool in his hands. He gave them to Marlene and turned his back on her again. She opened the bottle and poured a liberal amount of iodine on to the cotton wool. Then she began to paint his weals with it. He flinched with its sting.
When she had finished he took the bottle and the wad of cotton wool from her hands. He went back to the bathroom.
Erika chuckled. "He's well-trained."
"He ought to be, after the things I've done to him."
"Do tell me. What other things do you do? Other tortures, I mean."
Marlene laughed. "Have patience, my dear. You shall see everything, in Paris and other places."
The man came back into the room and, wordlessly, put on his clothes.
When he was dressed, he looked at Marlene. His eyes were still dull. "I may go now, Fraulein Director?"
"You may, Herr Gunther," said Marlene. "Expect a telephone call from me in about five or six weeks' time."
He bowed to her and, taking no notice of Erika, walked out of the living-room towards the door of the flat. He walked slowly and very stiffly.
A pity, thought Marlene. He interrupted us too soon. Never mind, though. I'll poke her in Paris tomorrow. But what a waste! She was so much in the mood. She would have accepted anything-even a whipping.
What a pity, said Erika to herself. Things were going so well. We might have gone to the bed to fondle each other a little. And she might-she just might-have wanted to whip me a little. It would have been such heaven! Nevermind. Perhaps she'll do it in Paris-or London or wherever else we're going. Oh God! I'd love to be whipped by her. Not very much, of course. But I'd love her to do it a little-particularly if she'd wear this cape while she's doing it. And it seems that she loves rubber for its own sake, thank God. And she's a sadist. So it's almost certain that she'll whip me soon, and it's just as certain that she'll be wearing something of rubber when she does it. But it's an awful pity that damned man had to interrupt us tonight.
Marlene said: "You'll have to telephone for another plane reservation."
"Don't worry, Fraul-er-Marlene. I'll do it on my way home. I'll call at the air company's office. It's open all night."
"Are you able to leave at such short notice?"
"Oh yes. Oh yes, of course."
"No parents to consult?"
"Well, I have parents-but I don't have to consult them about my movements." She smiled. "After all, I'm going on a business trip with my boss, aren't I?"
Marlene laughed. "You are, indeed. All right. Just go over to the divan and choose two or three things that take your own fancy-and then take them home and pack them in your bags. And then I'll do the same thing."
"Will you be taking that lovely cape?"
"Oh yes, of course. And some other rubber things that you haven't seen yet. I think you'll like them."