Pt. 04: Restitution

Kate jumped as the door flew open, banging hard against the wooden wall. Two people entered, both dressed in the customary black clothing. The man carried a crate on a sack truck which he'd used to force the door open. The woman following behind carried a clipboard. The two who'd been chatting left the table to join the newcomers.

"We've come to collect one," said the man with the sack truck as he lowered the crate to the floor. He unscrewed the fixings, releasing the top from the crate, and then slid out the bars which formed the crate's front wall.

"Which one?" Asked one of their over lookers. The woman checked her clipboard.

"Grace." The other three slaves gave a sigh of relief. Grace showed no emotion. Released from her chains she stood when told.

"Sit with your back against the wood. Good. Knees touching either side." With cords placed just above her knees the man secured her legs to the sides of the crate, close to her shoulders. The position stretched her legs wide open to the gaze of the others. Her wrists were secured in the same manner: one either side of her head. Even in that position she still looked elegant and classy.

"Nice and comfortable?" he asked, in a sarcastic manner. Grace moved slightly trying to improve her position.

"Yes thank you."

"Good. Where's she going?"

The woman consulted her clipboard as the man slid the bars back and screwed down the top of the crate.

"Let's see...to...here it is...to Robert Hardcastle, in the City."

"Oh dear, you're in for a hard time then, I've heard about him."

So had Grace and knew the man's information to be correct. She looked forward to it.

After manoeuvring the crate back onto the sack truck, he wheeled Grace from the room.

"What's happening to these three?"

The woman once again checked her clipboard.

"The other two are going to the kitchen, Seventy Three's coming with me. Stand up."

Fearful of what she would face, Kate obediently followed as they climbed the stairs. Making their way through the main house and up a further flight of stairs, the woman ushered her into a first floor room--a bedroom. Kate looked around. An open door revealed an en-suite bathroom. The large room could belong in any high class hotel. The flat screen television on the wall, the well-stocked drinks cabinet and the large, high bed gave an air of luxury denied to Kate since her arrival.

"You're to remain here today," the woman told her, "your lunch will be delivered later. Feel free to make use of the facilities."

With that she left the room, and Kate panicked. She wanted to rush after the woman, tell her there had been a mistake, she was a slave and this was not how slaves were treated. In her confusion she felt like crying. This must have been what the manager had been discussing on the telephone. Soon she would be returned to her old life. His phrase, 'so there's nothing more to be done' now became clear. Flinging herself onto the bed she put her face in her hands and wept. For how long she lay there she had no idea. It took a long while to control her sobbing, after which she decided to make the most of the luxurious surroundings. No doubt Richard would be along later to pick her up. For over half an hour she enjoyed a long hot bath, after being subjected to the freezing showers twice a day it was pure luxury. After watching some television, she found out that nothing of any great interest had happened since her arrival. Trying to take her mind off her imminent departure she read an assortment of magazines. It didn't work, her mind kept wandering back to try and work out where she'd made her mistake, or what she hadn't done correctly-her thoughts drew no conclusions.

The only break in the day came when her lunch arrived. A member of staff, dressed in black, supervised a chained slave who carried the tray. The crab salad, and fresh, warm, crusty bread accompanied by a glass of white wine tasted divine, but Kate would have swapped it for a bowl of stew in the scullery if doing so would mean that she still had a chance to alter the course of her future.

As early evening approached and the light began to fade, the door to her room opened. Kate expected to see Richard, there to take her home and comfort her, instead the manager entered accompanied by a female member of staff. Kate stood, unsure of the conventions to adopt in the situation. She remained silent.

"You're to be tested again; you did well in the reception area yesterday and very well in the lounge."

"But...I thought..."

"You thought what?"

"That I was leaving, being thrown out... from the group."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well I..." Kate stopped herself, she could hardly admit to trying to listen in to his telephone conversation. "I just assumed that I'd failed to meet your needs, that I'd proved unsuitable."

"Far from it...so far you've done well, but tonight is confirmation time--make or break."

"What does that mean, what's to happen now?"

"You're to be used, in front of an audience--by Sebastian Lloyd." He waited to see what reaction the news invoked.

"Very well," Kate said, trying to keep her face neutral. Inside she was more than happy with the news. What could he do to her, surely nothing which she'd not already experienced, and he was unlikely to have brought a tramp. No, she welcomed the challenge. She'd sort the problem that night-for good.

"Kelly here will help you prepare. Bring her down when she's ready."

As soon as he left the room the woman relaxed, chatting in a friendly manner as Kate bathed and cleaned herself with one of the enemas. Sitting Kate at the dressing table the woman brushed her hair and applied heavy make-up, the first Kate had worn for a long time.

"This will be hard you know, I've seen it done before."

"What happened?"

"She couldn't handle it, she gave in." Thinking about how negative that must have sounded she quickly qualified her statement. "But she wasn't like you. I saw you yesterday in reception, and I heard this morning how well you stood up to it in the lounge. No, you'll be fine."

"I know this man and what he's capable of, nothing about it will be easy," Kate told her.

"Have you had dealings with him before then?"

Kate gave her a brief outline of the story.

"What a nasty slob."

Kate laughed at her precise but accurate character assessment.

"You show him you're better than his biased opinion."

"The problem before was that I'd no desire to give myself to him, he wasn't worthy of it. I only wanted to suffer for people who deserved to have power over me."

"Do you think you can handle this then?"

"I'll give it a damn good try. He'll only be testing my body not my emotions. The more he does to me the more I'll be able to prove my worth to those that do matter to me."

"Go girl, you show the pig. Come on it's time."

She secured the wrist and ankle straps before carefully fixing the collar.

"Put your shoes on. Ready?"

"Yes, let's go."

Clipping the lead to her collar she led Kate from the room. Walking in heels once again felt strange, extra care needed to be taken on the stone stairs.

The layout of the lounge had been changed; one wall left clear and the chairs arranged in semicircles around a low, raised stage. They waited for a crying slave to be led out. The general murmuring and discussion probably centred around the treatment she had received and her response to it. Kate scanned the room, looking at the back of the heads, trying to spot Richard. There he was, at the front and to the left sitting with Graham Weston. Just behind them sat Janet and Colonel Mason. For the first time Kate suddenly became nervous. Failing was one thing, but doing so in front of the people who mattered to her was something else.

"Here we go then, come on."

The lead guided her forward, through the crowded room. Kate spotted Elizabeth and Robin. The audience quietened as she made her way to the clear area at the front. The murmuring soon turned into a deafening, expectant silence as the audience eagerly awaited the main event. The woman turned Kate to face them.

"Legs spread, hands behind your head," she said, before undoing the lead and whispering "good luck, and you show him." The kind gesture heartened Kate. From the corner of her eye she saw him, standing, and waiting.

He stepped forward to address the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're here this evening to test the suitability of this slave--to see whether she deserves to be kept in the group. She defied me once but this time will be the last."

Kate noted that, from the very start. he was speaking of defeat and her failing, He was there to finish the task, not to test her but to try and break her, and in front of people who care for her. Her determination soared, she would not let him beat her again.

"Name?"

"Seventy Three."

"Seventy Three what?"

"Seventy Three, Sir."

She hesitated, her voice reluctant. The leather belt slashed across the front of her thighs.

"See, no respect, that's why she's here. She needs," slash, "to learn," slash, "some manners."

Kate winced from the blows but stood still.

"Lean over the table."

She moved forward and carried out the instruction. Facing the audience but unable to see them due to the lights in her eyes, she gripped the front edge, her legs widely spread, and waited. Five or six strokes cut into her buttocks forcing her to cry out. Drawing only a minimal reaction from her he moved upwards and placed five blazing lines across her back between her shoulders. Then he moved down lower and repeated the exercise on the tender flesh in the middle of her back. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table, determined to remain in position. She hoped he would move his attentions from the middle of her back, he must have damaged the skin, she had no idea if it was blood or sweat trickling along her ribs.

As the punishment continued she reverted back to her training, remembering what Colonel Mason had told her. Breath hard and get a rhythm to match the strokes, out with the strike in between strikes. But Lloyd changed the tempo. He was shrewd, a skilled wielder of the whip. The noise from the punishment echoed around the room, but still the assault hadn't achieved the effect he'd hoped for.

"Get up."

Had he stopped? Was it a small victory?

"Turn around, lean back against the edge of the table and grip the edge behind you." Delivered with a sneer his next instruction made his intentions clear, "and open your legs."

Kate dreaded punishment to the front of her body. The extra sensitive flesh and seeing the blows coming added to the agony. Standing to one side he slashed the first blow across her stomach. The burning pain caused an immediate red line to appear; only to be repeated as he covered the area above, marking her breasts. The most painful part came from the tip of the belt catching her nipple. She fought to bear the agony until he finally stopped, leaving the room filled with the sound of her continued screaming.

What will Richard think? Will he be turned on or will he consider Lloyd to be taking things too far?

As her screams turned to sobs she opened her eyes to see Lloyd standing before her. She knew what to expect and closed her eyes.

"Look at me," he shouted, "how dare you look away."

The belt sliced down between her legs, her body reacted--curling up in agony. As soon as she regained control she recovered her position, opened her legs and looked him in the eyes. He saw her defiance challenging him.

He repeated the cruel act, eliciting the same response. She screamed and moaned convinced he must have broken the skin. She looked down to check. No sign of blood but a deep red mark. He gave up the struggle and moved on. Kate inwardly smiled. It was her day, her opportunity to shine. She'd been punished for her mistake and Lloyd's cruelty didn't form part of that punishment; she was the innocent party. It was a one on one bout between him and her. She had submitted and endured. Round one won on points.

Once her breathing had returned to normal he used her hair to pull her upright-her scalp burned. Forced down onto hands and knees, she faced the audience, before having her face and breasts flattened against the floor. With her backside high in the air she waited to feel the sting of the strap, none came. Instead she felt him hard and warm, pushing at her opening. He knew Richard was there. With one violent thrust he filled her, more easily than she would have expected, she must be moister than she imagined.

Her attractive looks and slim figure meant nothing here, her face pushed into the floor and her body doubled up to make her holes more accessible, she became just an opening for his use: the only part of her he considered to be of any use.

Being as hard and rough as he could, he used her. Even to him the sex meant nothing. He used her just to make the point that he could, that she was the lowest of beings, there for his use whatever she thought of him. He withdrew completely many times before thrusting into her again to repeat the act of taking her, of opening her and demonstrating his power. The sex wasn't the goal, he didn't want to climax, that wasn't the point. Thick, stiff and pumped up from his arousal, she thought it would have felt good in other circumstances. Her body gripped him, the walls of her hole sensitive, but she felt no lust, not there and not with him. The mentality had changed, his anger overcame him and the adrenaline flowed. He was raping her; wanting her to suffer--and suffer she did.

He moved to her smaller opening; she felt him at the entrance. Slaves often got more physical pleasure from being used that way, and he would know that. Kate also knew why he wanted to use her that way, in front of all those people. Despite the physical pleasure she may get from it, being used there was always degrading. Having her backside used at any time was humiliating but there, being used by Lloyd, in front of Richard and all those people, she wanted to curl up and die from the shame.

She could have avoided it. She could have run away, and he knew it. She wouldn't run again; once was a mistake, twice would be the end. He had no mercy, he was big and hard. There were no preliminaries and he took no care, he just wanted to hurt her, and he did. She screamed from the discomfort as well as her distaste. He pounded at her and thrust into her as deeply as possible, his hair scratching the raw skin on her buttocks. When he could hold out no longer he withdrew, grabbed her hair and spun her round before making her clean the disgusting slime from him. Perhaps he hoped she hadn't been as thorough with her preparations, making the task more sickening.

Lifting her off him he made her kneel on her haunches. She remained still, facing the crowd of people as he went behind her, out of sight; it made her nervous. Coming back into view she saw his rapidly subsiding erection at eye level. He held it. She remained still, unsure if she should lean forward and take him into her mouth. No order came, so she waited. Then she realised his intention, but glad of the break she waited. She'd never been subjected to it before but had seen it done to other slaves at the Boardroom, and she knew the reason for it: to demonstrate the power of one person over another. It was a repulsive act, but effective. It was his big moment, the point at which she would refuse and seal her fate, he was sure of it.

Kate saw the liquid moments before she felt it hit her face, closing her eyes just in time to prevent it entering. As she felt the stream move down to cover her breasts she opened her eyes. He directed the stream upward once more, and when it reached her chin she looked into his eyes and opened her mouth. As she took in the liquid she tried closing her throat but some went down before she could spit out the rest.

Which look could he see in her eyes? Was it the look of triumph or the smirk? Either way it enraged him. His face reddened and his fists clenched. As he grabbed the whip she cringed and cowered, waiting for the onslaught to begin. Two members of the audience came forward ready to step in. He raised the whip... then stopped, his better judgement taking over. Throwing the whip to the floor he turned and stormed from the room. The men on the front row returned to their seats, sure of her safety. She had won--it was his turn to run.

Kate remained on the floor, the cold spreading goosebumps over her skin. The area between her legs felt sore, her make-up was ruined, her body welted and raw and the urine smelt foul. What must she look like to the people who'd just witnessed her debasement? Her answer came when she heard the clapping and appreciative comments. Richard put a blanket around her before picking her up, holding her tight and kissing her dirty face.

Her elation was indescribable. She knew she'd found herself. She had reached the point where she had wanted to be all along.

She'd opened that secret door and looked into a new world.

61

Golden sunlight streaming through the windows roused Kate from her well-earned sleep. Daily life at The Manor continued as normal. The staff went about their daily chores and guests made use of the facilities on offer. Waking up next to Richard in a warm and comfortable bed felt strange to Kate. She was sure there would be no blast of freezing water, no manual labour and no display in the reception area. Any movement reminded her body of the previous nights ordeal. The aching muscles, welted back and soreness below were all happy reminders of her achievement. As she turned she came face to face with Richard, his head resting on his arm, watching her.

"Morning sleepyhead, how are you today?"

"I'm fine, I've missed you so much." She leaned over to kiss him, stroking his cheek.

"I'm so proud of you."

"Good, I don't want to sound big headed, but I'm proud of myself."

"So you should be. Let's have a look at you," he gently pulled down the sheet. "Wow, look at you. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Never better. I feel like one of those boxers you see being interviewed after a fight, when their eyes are half closed and the cuts weeping. Then they say they feel great to have won and look forward to meeting the next challenger for their title."

"You're weird..."

A quiet knocking at the door interrupted him.

"Come in." He shouted as he pulled the sheet up, covering them both.

A young girl opened the door before wheeling in a breakfast trolley.

"Your breakfast Sir, Madam." Her warm smile suited her elfin face. She left the room.

"She called me Madam, how things turn around."

As they sipped the strong, steaming coffee and ate the warm croissant's with butter and jam, Kate felt tearful, it had been so long since she'd had real food. They ate in bed, safe, warm and together.

"What happens now then?" she asked, between bites.

"Later I'm taking you home, I think little Oscar's missed you enough as it is."

"You know, I have you to thank for this."

"What, your poor body?"

"No, silly, getting me to where I am, where I always wanted to be."

"You did it not me."

"No, I couldn't have done it on my own. All those times you made me carry on, risking me falling out with you and hating you. That's braver than what I did. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Madam. Anyway you need to get up and shower."

"Oh yes? Are you going to have your wicked way with me?"

"There'll be plenty of time for that when I get you home. No, you've got an appointment. I've organised a couple of presents for you. Off you go."

Spending far too long wallowing in the luxury of a hot shower put her behind schedule. Answering the knock at the door, Richard let in the same young girl who'd brought the breakfast.

"She won't be a moment," he told her, before calling through the open bathroom door, "Kate, have you finished, they're ready for you."