Part 6
At some point I must have lost consciousness for the next thing I knew,
I was lying across the threshold of the doorway at the foot of the stairs,
the animated riding crop nowhere to be seen. I took stock of myself, half
expecting to discover I had broken something in my fall, but the total
extent of damage was a slightly tender hip and a very reddened face as I
realized how very pleasurable had been the beating I had just received.
I was now convinced that I was not to discover the upper floors secrets
just yet. Accordingly, I picked myself up with care, straightened the
wrinkles from my garments and dusted off the rubber as best I could. Then
I turned away from the mysterious stairs to explore the second half of the
hall.
I walked past the five rooms I had already explored, crossed the landing
and selected the first door on the right. I paused for a moment, my hand
on the knob, my heart pounding. What of the sounds I thought I had heard
last night, the voices, that delicious moan? And how (and why) had the
statues downstairs managed to disappear and reappear? I couldn't have
imagined that! The smart thing I told myself, was to leave that house
then and there, never to return. Who knew what bizarre fate might befall
me, with no one in the outside world ever to be the wiser?
But I was a prisoner of my perversions, a slave to my curiosity- I could
no more have left the mystery behind at that point than I could have slit
my own wrists. Marshalling my courage, I turned the knob and shoved the
door wide, not yet daring to set foot across the threshold.
Within was the strangest thing I had yet seen in that house. Just past
the open door, the entrance was occluded by a taught black membrane of the
ubiquitous India rubber. It was twisted slightly, and bulged outward in a
spiral from a central point, as if it were a... well, modesty forbids my
describing what it reminded me of. The way was blocked. I had no way of
knowing what actually lay within the confines of that room, and I wasn't
at all certain I wanted to find out. It was then I noticed the moisture
dripping from the central point where the folds met. I was overcome then
by the things obscene anatomical appearance and I slammed the door in a
panic, my breath coming in gasps.
I turned my back on it and flung open the door across the hall before the
growing knot of fear in my stomach could become an urge to flee.
Thankfully, this door opened onto a scene more comprehensible, if not
entirely ordinary. The room was appointed with bizarre contraptions the
prurient intent of which was immediately obvious, as well as opulent and
beautiful furniture and draperies, as if the builders could not decide
whether to construct a perverse boudoir or a sitting room.
I crept in cautiously, half expecting someone or something to jump out at
me at any moment. The elaborate mechanical constructs took up most of the
space in the room, and although it was apparent that each was intended to
make use of one or more human bodies, the exact function of most of them
escaped me at first. Every piece was different, and I could fathom the
intended purpose of only a few. Here, a simple horse with padded shackles
on either side, over which a body might be bent; there, an elaborate
framework of metal tubing, festooned with straps and buckles, it's use a
complete mystery. Another item which hung from the ceiling by chains,
held my attention for some time. It appeared to be a sort of soft case or
binder for a person. It was made from very soft white leather, in the
general outline of an Egyptian mummy case, and was equipped with numerous
straps, lacings, and buckles, as well as several rubber hoses connected to
a wheeled cart with tanks, valves and other plumbing on it.
The ingenious devices here made me nervous, and I quit the room after
only a cursory inspection of the contents.
When I opened the next door I had to blink a few times to be certain of
what I was seeing. Revealed was a chamber far more inviting, nay even
pleasing to the eye, than any I had so far entered. It was a kind of
bed chamber I realized, but decorated like a mans smoking room, with a
fireplace, heavy drapes, two book shelves, several large candelabra, a
few small tables, and a pair of overstuffed chairs facing the fire. The
giant bed stood almost unnoticed in the shadows at the far end of the
room. There was a distinctly masculine feel about the whole opulent
boudoir.
Very pleasant, at first glance.
I looked more closely and was afraid.
The snarling face of the great bearskin rug on the floor did not startle
me, nor even the fire burning merrily, impossibly, in the hearth. It was
not the grotesque andirons in the form of gargoyles at either side of the
fire. No, what caused icy fingers to clasp abruptly round my heart was
the single crystal wine glass, half full, and the bottle, sitting on the
table between the chairs. The wine or port, or what ever was in that
goblet, glowed a dark red- a deep, blood color, lit from within by the
flames dancing on the grate. But not even this disturbing fancy affected
me so much as the actions of the liquid itself.
The wine was moving, ever so slightly. Swaying, swaying, back and forth,
a quick-tempo tide of red in miniature. It was as if it had been set down
only moments before. The whole scene was quite impossible. Impossible
that is, if I was to believe the house truly empty, but after what I had
seen so far, I was beginning to expect the unexpected. I did not however,
expect what happened next.
"Please come in Miss Swanson, and make yourself comfortable."
I am proud to say that upon hearing that voice I did not immediately run
screaming from the house, even though that was my first inclination. I
think my already inflamed curiosity immediately overcame my startled
terror just long enough for me to stop and think.
The voice was deep and resonant, and sounded neither unfriendly nor
sinister. I realized then that someone was sitting in one of the chairs,
concealed by the high back and wide wings of its upholstery. The light
of the fire was in my eyes, casting the chairs into shadow. I would have
to enter and walk around the other chair, in fact stand right before the
fire place, before I would see his face.
What was more, this person knew my name, another impossibility since I
had travelled under an assumed name, and given yet another name in
Harrowgate.
"Please... that is... please, I'd rather not," I said, ashamed of the
tremor in my voice. I was twenty-four, an adult! It was intolerable
that I should stand in that doorway, quaking like a little girl before a
schoolmistress, yet there I stood, and quake I did. I could not have
moved to enter or flee at that moment had I wished to. I felt as if my
clothes, already restrictive enough, had turned to iron, and me with them,
I was that paralyzed with fright.
"Come, come, my dear," the voice crooned, more fatherly and familiar now,
it seemed to me, "I shan't hurt you... in fact, that is the furthest thing
from my mind right now. At least close the door, you're letting in a
draft."
I felt foolish of a sudden, and given a decent, civil request to fulfill,
I found myself galvanized enough to move again. I stepped forward only
enough to pass the threshold, turned, and closed the door behind me.
"Ah, good. Thank you. This old house is a bit drafty, and often becomes
chill of an evening. Won't you join me for a short while, warm yourself
by the fire?"
I had no intentions of joining him for any purpose whatsoever, but I
wanted desperately to know to whom I spoke, and what his purpose here
might be. I stepped cautiously around the empty chair, gazing all the
while at the other. As I drew closer to my goal, I noticed the room
seemed to be growing dimmer, and a suspicious glance at the fireplace
confirmed this- the fire was inexplicably dying.
"Ah, I am sorry. My nocturnal habits have accustomed me to darkened
chambers. But I fear I am being inhospitable... some light then!"
I had a brief glimpse of a smoking jacket sleeve, the gesture of a pale
hand, and with that, the huge candelabra behind his chair lit by itself.
This time I did jump.
"My apologies, I did not intend to startle you. But there, that's much
brighter, what?"
Despite the improved illumination, his chair was now back-lit, with
virtually no light hitting him from the fireplace, and it was now quite
impossible to make out who (or what) occupied that seat, let alone his
features. I decided to take the offensive.
"How did you do that?" I demanded.
"Do what?" he asked blandly.
"That, that... lighting the candles."
"A parlour trick, a curiosity. Nothing more, I assure you. I dabble in
a few... arcane... fields of study, areas poorly understood by the common
man... occasionally I learn something that affords a convenience, such as
lighting candles. It is unimportant."
His voice was resonant but soothing, reassuring and familiar, and I found
myself believing him, relaxing rather more than I had intended. It seemed
his voice spoke to my body, not to my ears.
"Your feet must surely be tired if you have worn those boots for long,
why don't you sit down there, and rest a bit. I assure you, I shall
remain the perfect gentleman."
Gingerly, I sat then, with some trepidation, sticking my tightly laced
boots out in front of me like two stilts. Despite the corset, I found
it easier to sit than I had expected, and I leaned back a bit into the
incredibly soft upholstery of the chair. Inexplicably, I felt almost at
ease, as if I had suddenly been transported to the sitting room of an old
friend, and was quietly discussing the weather while sipping a sherry.
"Who... if I may ask," I stammered, once again embarrassed and unsure of
myself, "who are you? Do you live here?"
"But of course, this is my home! As for my name, I think you may already
have guessed that. I have, alas, acquired some notoriety hereabout. But
no matter. Who I am is of no consequence at the moment. Who you are is
far more important, who you have been is almost as interesting, but who
you are to become... now that is quite fascinating, and it is my greatest
concern!"
"I don't understand... you knew my name..."
"I make it my business to know something about those who visit us here.
You are a treasured rarity, my dear. It isn't often we receive guests.
Why then should we not take a pointed interest in you?"
His voice was interfering with my ability to concentrate. It's
vibrations seemed to resonate within me, stirring something deep in my
belly. It was not unpleasant. I tried to remain on the offensive though,
despite a sudden, inexplicable longing for whoever owned that voice.
"All right then, but what about those statues downstairs? When I came
here the first time, there were ten pieces of erotic, perverse sculpture
standing in a row. Then when I left, they were gone! And today, they
are back..." I faltered. I wanted answers, but I felt somehow that I
didn't quite know the right questions to ask.
"Statues? Ah, of course. Statues. The front hall. In good time, my
dear, all in good time. I fear you are not quite ready for that...
revelation, but rest assured, you will learn all about the many...
features of my house, eventually. But I am curious, why did you come here
in the first place? And how did you come to be dressed so... strangely?
Surely that is unusual fashion for a woman, even in this progressive age."
I heard rather than saw a faintly knowing smile as he said this, and I
was taken aback for a moment. He had cut to the heart of the matter,
exposed what I was here to confront but had never dared speak plainly
of except to a rare few lovers. I was certain now of his identity,
impossible though it seemed- he would have to be over a hundred now! But
what made my heart beat a little harder was that that this man might be
willing to accept me for who and what I was. I suspected that he already
knew the answers to his questions, that he was trying to evoke a reaction
from me. And I wanted to oblige him, too.
And yet I found myself quite unable to speak, of a sudden. I stammered,
made several false starts, and tried again.
"I ah, well... it's not easy for a lady to discuss these things..."
"Nonsense!" he rebuked me gently, "let us not delude ourselves! By the
standards of today's society, you are no lady, else you would never have
found your way here."
Before I could retort, he cut me off. "Oh, don't look so offended! To
speak of a `lady' in this day and age is to speak of an empty, fragile
flower- a pretty and decorative thing, but ultimately without PASSION,
without LIFE. It is plainly obvious that you are no such blushing virgin.
"You have the look of a woman accustomed to a comfortable life, yet you
are no doubt a pariah among high society. You have chosen the path of a
libertine, a hedonist, and for that I salute you."
"But I... I'm not sure I'm ready to..."
"Compose yourself. I know perhaps more about you than you know about
yourself. You need fear no judgement, no disparagement from me or mine on
any score save self-denial. I understand what drives you, it burns within
me as well, just as it burns in the hearts of all my... guests. Never the
less, I will hear it from your own lips, else you may expect no further
hospitality from me. I ask you again: why do you wear such strange
garments, and where did you obtain them?"
I struggled with myself for a few moments more before the years of social
conditioning relented and I could vocalize my desires. I stared at the
cooling embers in the hearth rather than meet the unseen but palpable gaze
of my host. When I spoke, it was almost a whisper, and I addressed my
feet more than my host.
"It's true. I am a libertine. But... I'm not like the other women I
know who have a... a `reputation'. I have a great many... strange...
desires, perversions, some would say... have had, for as long as I can
remember."
I broke off, near to tears. I was confused. I had tied up lovers,
had been bound by them in turn. I had dug my heels into the backs of
men, had women use all manner of perverse paraphernalia on my most private
parts. Why then this reluctance to admit to my fetishes? I thought for a
moment. While I had indulged my fantasies before, I had convinced myself
and my lovers that it was all a game, that we took up our roles out of
stylish ennui, a jaded desperation. Never once had I admitted to a single
human being, in frank language, that I enjoyed these things in and of
themselves, that I pursued them for their own sake. Never before had I
been as close as I was now to opening the vaults of my heart to a total
stranger, to letting someone see all of the dark and twisted desires that
lived there. It was a frightening yet thrilling denouement.
"Pray, continue," he said after my pause had turned into a lengthy
silence.
That simple entreaty completed his spell over me and I poured out my
heart.
"I like... I enjoy being bound, and gagged, and held... immobile. It
excites me even more than a lover's caresses. I enjoy the most
restrictive of clothes for the same reason, it's as if I were in
ambulatory bondage. I love my stays and laces- I am never uncorsetted."
Once I was started again, I couldn't stop. It all came out in a torrent.
It was as if his voice had hypnotized me. I felt slightly distanced, as if
some disembodied voice were telling my secrets, not me.
"I love feeling out of control of my body. When I am tightly laced or
belted, it's almost as if the lower half of my body is divorced from the
upper. My hips sway and my gate becomes more swaggering, the muscles lose
some of their control. The same applies to my heels, I suppose. Very
high heels are difficult to walk in- they make me feel taller, superior,
while at the same time putting me slightly off-balance. When I'm dressed
this way, I can't forget about my body, I must concentrate to stay
upright, and I'm constantly reminded of what I am wearing."
"Yes..." my host murmured quietly, "go on."
"And, well, I seem to have rather more than my fair share of... libido."
"You mean that you are over-sexed."
I blushed. "Yes."
"NO,: he contradicted harshly, "you are NOT oversexed. Desire is a
scale, not some absolute standard. Each person has their own amount, and
need simply seek out those who share your level of desire, as well as the
nature of your desires. You are above average it is true, but that does
not make you any sort of freak." He chuckled then. "If it did, I and
everyone in my house would be freaks."
For this reassurance, I fought the urge to climb into his lap and kiss
him.
"Well, yes. All right," I admitted.
"And your clothes," he persisted, "where did you get them?"
I screwed my courage up and looked directly into the shadows of his
chair.
"I got them from you, as I'm sure you know."
"Yes. At least you are honest."
"But what I want to know is how it is that they all just happen to fit
me!"
"What do you think?"
I took inventory of my fears, my fantasies.
"I think... I think that you knew I was coming. I think perhaps you may
have even drawn me here somehow."
"You're insight is exceeded only by your licentiousness. Very well then.
It's true. I did know you were coming. I... foresaw it. You are not the
only visitor of your sort to come to us. And not likely the last. This
house is home to a long history of hedonism."
He paused as if to collect his thoughts.
"Are you familiar with the scientific theory of the ether?"
I said that I was.
"And have you noticed, or at least heard of, persons who are unusually
sensitive to the feelings, moods, even thoughts, of others? How do you
suppose that is possible? I have done research, made experiments... It
is my belief that our thoughts and emotions create waves in the ether,
waves that may be sensed by those who are sufficiently sensitive, or more
to the point, those who are particularly attuned to the specific nature of
those thoughts."
Here, I felt that he must be staring very hard at me, and I blushed
anew.
"The people who have stayed here over the years have reached heights of
pleasure unimagined in your ah, outside world. Because of this, the house
is steeped in a miasma of lusty energy, a psychic aroma of pleasure and
pain conjoined. It is this spreading ether of forbidden delights which
attracts the libidinous, the hedonistic, the perverse. Ah, forgive me.
In my dotage, I wax poetic far too easily."
I wouldn't have thought him in his dotage! His clear and deeply resonant
voice sounded of virility, competence, and masterful debauchery.
"As for your clothes, we have a veritable army of unusual tailors,
smiths, cobblers, and corsetieres the world over. The garments you found
were made especially for you. I wanted to give you an opportunity to
discover, on your own, a little of what is possible. To find yourself, as
it were."
"I...I'm grateful, I assure you. But then they changed... I couldn't get
them off..."
"Correct. Once you have left that room, they cannot be removed unless
you wear my favor, the amulet."
"But... the laces of the corset simply disappeared! The collar of the
suit, and the waist band of the skirt...it was like magic."
"Yes... it must have surprised you. But that was my intent, after all.
I wanted to be certain that you were the right sort. A less... interested
woman would have panicked, perhaps cutting the garments off in her haste
to be free. Clearly, you enjoyed what was done to you, what you did to
yourself."
I blushed, but persevered.
"But how is it done?"
"The specifics are not your concern. Perhaps in time I shall let you in
on a few of my secrets. But really: magic, science, it makes little
difference. Think of it however you will. Any sufficiently advanced
science is indistinguishable from magic in any case. But speaking of the
amulet, I notice you are not wearing it- where is it?"
The question was asked almost casually, but something in his voice had
my heart in my throat and my pulse pounding instantly.
"I... I..." I glanced around the room, ready to bolt from my chair.
"Emily," he said, more kindly it seemed, "what happened?"
"I lost it!" I blurted. Instantly, I regretted my honesty.
"Ah, I thought as much. I... felt your excitement as you approached the
house this morning. I assumed as much."
"You mean... you're not angry?" I was afraid to feel relieved yet, was
still tensed in case his temper erupted.
"Angry? No. Disappointed, perhaps. It was a valuable bauble, and you
_were_ careless... but you need fear no reprisals. You were not under
my... covenants when it happened."
I heaved a sigh of relief as he continued, although I wasn't at all sure
I trusted him yet. Lusted after him, perhaps, for what reason I couldn't
say, but trusted? No.
"I want you to feel welcome here. The room in which you first dressed
is yours for the duration of your stay, if you wish it. We would be most
honored to have you."
"I... I'm not sure..."
"Do not answer yet. If you stay, you will be making a commitment. And I
would not ask that of you when you are so newly awakened. You stand at
the gateway to a strange and wondrous world, our world. But you are not
yet born into that world, and until you are, you must remain forever
outside, as a child peering through a candy store window. I would have
you join us here... join my family... Eh? You have a question?"
"You keep saying `our', `we', and so on. But you're the only one I've
seen here. Are there others living here? And if so, where are they?"
"Oh yes, there are others... a select few. My lovers, my family- loving
mistresses, slaves, and masters all. Like me, they are nocturnal in
their habits, but they are here. You will meet them, become one of them,
if you choose to remain. In fact, you have seen them, though you knew it
not."
I shuddered, afraid that I knew to what he referred. He went on.
"But I see I have taxed you... you have had a long day. You should rest
now. We will speak again tomorrow."
Untouched by any tangible hands, the doors to the room opened by
themselves.
"I believe you know the way to your room. I trust it is to your liking.
It is as comfortable as we could devise."
One pale hand gestured to the door, and I realized I had been dismissed.
Rather than taking affront, I was only too glad to escape from that
hypnotic voice and it's disturbing "parlor tricks". Besides, being in his
presence was having a tremendously arousing effect on me.
As I passed through the doors, he spoke again, softly, from immediately
behind me.
"Emily."
I whirled, but there was no one there. When his voice came again, it was
once again from the chair. A quirk of the room acoustics, I told
myself. After all, I was an educated woman, and I ought not to believe in
the supernatural.
"Emily, I do not make my offer lightly, nor will it remain open for long.
You are of a rare breed. Here alone will you be among those who
experience life as you do. If you leave us once more, we will never meet
again. In that event, I fear that you shall know an exquisite loneliness
for the rest of your life. Think on that, and sleep, and tomorrow we
shall speak again."
With that, the candelabra extinguished itself, plunging the room into
darkness and putting flight to my feet. I closed the doors a bit too hard
and fled down the hall to `my' room.
