Thongs

this mean? And why did I feel so intimately involved with the beautiful victim on the unholy cross? I felt myself blushing.

And then a new voice, the voice of an older man who must have entered the room while I stared at the picture, spoke out beside me: 'Well, my dear? What do you think of her?'

Almost without thinking I replied at once: 'She's beautiful!'

And then I turned to face them.

The older man was not alone. Three other men dressed in dark jackets and gray striped trousers stood expectantly near the door. They were all tall men between forty and sixty.

The man who had spoken, Mr. Oakes, was also tall and slim. He had an ageless face with penetrating gray eyes. His well-kept hair and moustache were flecked handsomely with gray. He reminded me of a British Prime Minister and I realized at once that I was in the presence of a man at least as impressive.

He laughed lightly at my answer and turned to his friends. 'Come in gentlemen! Harry will get you something to drink.' He turned back to me. 'I believe your name is Gertrude, my dear, and that your father is the … er, Razor King! I want you to know how delighted I am to have you as a guest tonight! My name is Charles Oakes. I am a good friend of your friend, Hazel.'

I glanced across at the fireplace where Hazel still stood smoking a cigarette in a long black holder. I wondered again at her. How did she ever get to know these men?

'Thank you, sir,' I said.

A fleeting expression of displeasure passed across Mr. Oakes' distinguished features. But it passed quickly.

'Come, my dear,' he said gently, 'I wish to introduce you to these other gentlemen.' We returned near the fire. 'Mr. Bing, Mr. Duval, and Mr. Coldstream. Miss Gertrude Gault.'

The gentleman bowed.

We ate in another room, much larger than the first reception room. The long wooden table was candlelit and, although the table itself was bright enough, I found it difficult to make out the rest of the furniture and decorations. Mr. Oakes sat at one end of the long table and I was surprised that I was given the place at the other end, opposite him. Mr. Bing, Hazel, and Mr. Duval sat on Mr. Oakes' right, and Mr. Coldstream and Harry Prentice on his left. It was a copious meal with many courses served professionally by two footmen. But I had no appetite. I was too excited. Over and over again I asked myself what it was all about. Why was I here? Why was Mr. Oakes interested in me?

'You're not eating, my dear!' Mr. Oakes called gently from time to time from his end of the table. I blushed and replied that I wasn't hungry.

Mr. Oakes made some remark which I didn't understand, something about spiritual hunger, to Mr. Coldstream, a blond man with a red and slightly beefy face. Mr. Coldstream laughed in a funny way: 'Ha, ha … ha, ha … ha, ha!' and twinkled at me from his side of the table. I blushed.

From time to time one of the footmen filled one of the many wine glasses in front of me, but unlike the others, I hardly touched the wine.

After the last course, before coffee, Harry Prentice got up, nodded to Hazel who got up also, and they both left the room. I made as if to follow, but Mr. Oakes beckoned me to remain seated by raising his finger.

'We shall join your friend later,' he said reassuringly.

Coffee was served, and few moments later, brandy in huge brandy glasses.

The men talked among themselves. They seemed at first to be oblivious of me. After a while I became conscious that my end of the table was brighter than the other. When I looked up, I noticed that a soft light was being shed upon me from the ceiling. This gave me quite a start. I darted a look along the table at Mr. Oakes. It was then that I realized they were all looking at me.

'Don't be frightened, Gertrude,' Mr. Oakes said, calling me by name for the first time. 'We are about to ask you some questions. I want you to answer them truthfully. If you tell any lies, you won't be invited here again. We shall know. These gentlemen and I have a way of knowing.'

I felt afraid, even more afraid than I was when I was taken to the headmaster's office at school. That was for writing something on the wall of the girls' lavatory in the playground.

'What age are you?' Mr. Oakes said.

'I was nineteen yesterday.'

'She's still young,' Mr. Bing said.

'That is excellent!' said Mr. Duval.

'Have you ever had anything to do with a boy or a man?' Mr. Coldstream said.

Before I could answer, Mr. Oakes held up his hand.

'One moment please, gentlemen! I think we should impress upon Gertrude that we are already in possession of the true answers to all the questions we pose. A childish indiscretion could ruin everything. I have great hopes for Gertrude. We should be careful.'

'I entirely agree,' Mr. Bing said.

Mr. Duval and Mr. Coldstream nodded.

'Listen carefully, Gertrude,' Mr. Oakes said. 'A short while ago you left your father's flat one night. Your father had just made love to Hazel and they had fallen asleep. You went out alone into the street. It was very late. You were driven by a great sexual need. You saw a man turn out of the street into a dark lane. You followed. The man had begun to masturbate under a lamp when you arrived. Of your own free will you got down on your knees and took his sex in your mouth. Later the man struck you with a belt. When you returned home your father held you naked on the table while he flogged you. You took pleasure from everything that happened. We know all this already. That is why you have been invited here tonight.'

I realized at once that Hazel had betrayed me. I hated her! Now everyone knew my secret shame!

'What did you feel when you took the big prick in your mouth?'

'Did you swallow his semen?'

'Did he touch your cunt?'

'Do you often masturbate?'

'What would you like to do most?'

'Would you like to be whipped with leather thongs?'

'Has a man ever put his prick into you?'

'What do you feel when you hear your father make love to Hazel?'

'Did you enjoy it when Hazel made you come with her tongue?'

'You feel guilty, don't you?'

'You feel that you ought to be whipped, don't you?'

'And you would enjoy that more than anything, wouldn't you?'

'What do you do to yourself in the lavatory?'

'You carried a used condom in your cunt for a while, didn't you?'

'You're feeling sexy even now, aren't you?'

The questions were thrown at me in rapid succession. I was in tears as I answered. Yes, yes, no, yes, yes, no, yes! YES! YES! YES! I answered frantically, but I did not tell a lie.

Half an hour later my interrogators seemed satisfied.

'She is a virgin,' Mr. Coldstream said at last.

'Our virgin, I hope,' Mr. Oakes said seriously.

The others agreed heartily.

'And now, Gertrude, we shall join the others,' Mr. Oakes said.

All the men stood up. I did likewise. Mr. Oakes took me gently by the arm and we led the way down a flight of stairs to a cellar corridor in the basement. At the end of the corridor we passed through a double doorway into a large, brightly lit room. The floor was covered with straw and the walls and ceiling were thickly padded with a kind of canvas quilting. On the far wall hung a painting identical to the one in the first reception room. But there the resemblance of the two rooms ended. This room was filled with big wooden blocks scooped out in places to fit the shape of the human body, with leather thongs and belts, and innumerable chains.

Hazel stood beside Harry Prentice near a large wooden board which was held firmly at the perpendicular by wire guy ropes. It was about six feet broad and seven feet high with thongs of leather hanging from it at various