The Mortification of Isabel (14 page)
Mr. Povey summoned me to his presence one evening.
“John, we appear to be harbouring a thief.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Some objects are missing from these display cases.”
He waved in the correct direction having a good sense of the lay out of his rooms. “Are you certain, sir?”
“Quite certain. See for yourself.”
At first I could see nothing amiss, but closer scrutiny revealed some gaps, the outline of where some articles had rested on the velvet could be discerned by the absence of dust in contrast with the surrounding area.
“When I get my hands on the culprit…”
I knew it was no idle threat coming from Povey.
“Who should we suspect, sir?”
“It looks as if a woman has betrayed me, Margaret…Millie…the new girl Emma? What do we know about her? I left the matter in your hands, John. Did she come with a good character?”
“I am still waiting for her reference, sir.”
“Why is it delayed? Is that not suspicious?”
“Possibly, sir. What about Bella?”
At that moment I felt more protective of my new slave rather than Isabel Dance.
“Nonsense! The girl is always naked, where would she hide anything she took away? And why would she steal when she has no opportunity to sell the items, being confined to the house? No, I fear your Emma is the guilty one. Bring her to the dungeon in half an hour. We will wring the truth from her.”
I wondered which form of torture Povey would use on Emma knowing the range of equipment available and his full repertoire when it came to extracting information or administering punishment.
First he required her to be naked and I had the task of undressing her.
The girl was trembling with fear as I took off her bodice and kept looking up at the chains and pulleys above her as other victims had done before. Well she might look to the ceiling as I was certain Emma would be suspended by one method or another.
Povey ran his hands over her full breasts and the rounded curves of her naked body.
I was assailed by a familiar temptation.
Why did I not strike him down there and then? Why did I not eliminate this travesty of a human being who had so abused me in the past that I was almost as corrupt and vile as he?
Why did I hesitate?
If I killed him now, Emma would escape punishment.
And yet I continued to assist him, still the craven slave at heart. How I despised myself.
“Confess, and save yourself,” I heard Povey whisper into the girl’s ear.
“What is my crime, sir? How have I displeased you?”
“What have you done with my treasures? Who did you sell them to?”
He jabbed his fingers into her pussy as he questioned her, stretching her lips apart so they gaped like a mouth distorted by pain.
“Your treasures, sir? I know nothing about them.”
“Don’t lie, whore.”
“I do not tell lies, sir.”
My opinion of Emma was changing. I had thought her very meek and mild but she seemed affronted by Povey’s accusations and determined to defend herself. It was sad to witness in another sense, however, because I knew my master would find ways to humble her.
“Use the stockings, John,” he ordered.
The stockings were in fact like leggings or half stockings that fitted round the legs just above the ankles but were made of leather and had chains with hooks attached. They enabled the torturer to suspend his victim upside down by the legs. Povey usually used this device in conjunction with the giant glove that pinioned the girl’s arms behind her back. I was not surprised when he gave me the order to make use of it now.
I held Emma across my arms at first once the appliances were attached then turned her so she hung down vertically when Povey turned the wheel to activate the hoist.
He knew the layout of the dungeon as well as he knew the configuration of his rooms upstairs.
“There is still time to confess you are the thief,” he told Emma, putting his face very close to her upside down, tearful visage. “Now would be a good time before I flay you alive.”
He held a gag ready to stop up Emma’s mouth if she didn’t reply.
“Hold out your hand to signal when you are ready to make your confession,” Povey told her.
“I am innocent,” said Emma. “You are making a terrible mistake.”
Povey thrust the black ball gag between her red lips and signalled to me to secure the pulley system.
He went to the bench where his whips and canes were laid out before him. I noticed he was his old self, sure of his bearings, confident, not needing me to take his arm or assist him in selecting the instrument of punishment. He came back with a whip and took up his position with equal confidence, not requiring my guidance to show him how far he was from the trussed and suspended victim.
And he had made no error in his calculations.
The first lash curled round Emma’s upper body and left a livid line across her white breasts.
The second was aimed to circle her hips and wound the soft flesh of her bottom.
He flogged her with all his strength and she swung back and forth on her chains; it was like the worst of the whippings he’d dealt out as a much younger man; his vigour seemed restored.
I nearly stepped forward to stay his arm but shrank back again like an abject coward.
I screamed inside my head for Emma to put out her hand to give herself some respite.
When at last he stopped whipping her, she was cruelly marked from head to toe.
Povey removed the gag and demanded her confession again.
She could hardly speak. I could imagine how dry her mouth would be. When words came they were halting and hoarse.
“I… am… innocent,” she said.
He hit her face with the back of his hand, cursing her.
“We’ll find another way to hang our little hen,” he said and I knew instantly what he meant. “Let her down, John.”
He returned to the bench and fumbled with the equipment stacked below it. I knew what he was searching for.
“Find the barbs and board,” he shouted to me. His was angry now and his former composure had deserted him; consequently his handicap re-asserted itself. He was less sure of his ability to cope without assistance.
I kept back because I wanted no part of what he was proposing.
“John!” he yelled at me and his voice echoed round the bare walls of the dungeon. “Do what I ask or it will be the worse for you!”
And still I lacked the courage to face him down.
I found the hooks on their lines and the board to which they would be attached.
Povey was going to pierce her flesh with the hooks and suspend her by her breasts. The lines were attached to a board directly above her head and the board was lifted by chains on the pulley. There was nothing but her body to take her weight so her flesh would become distended and would probably tear.
As he knelt above her supine figure ready to insert the first hook in her left nipple I hit him over the head with a branding iron I picked up from the grate. Years of resentment welled up inside me and I went on hitting him and watching his skull cave in whilst Emma screamed out in horror.
The blows began to splinter his mask and gradually his face was revealed and the scars around his eyes. I was finishing what I had begun when I thrust the flaming torch at him in a far off place so many years before. It was right I should be his executioner, having so many scores to settle. I wasn’t doing it for Emma. I was doing it for myself.
***
When I opened my curtains the following morning, I saw Emma, moving painfully slowly, and Isabel together in the garden
I first saw Bella, naked on all fours, squatting down to relieve herself on the little patch of ground she usually used, then I saw Emma embrace her. After some moments passed, Emma tried to assist Bella to stand, and I saw her take off her dog collar and hurl it to the ground in anger. Emma draped her shawl over Isabel’s naked shoulders and they began to walk away at a slow pace.
Without summoning a general hue and cry, I dashed for the stairs and ran down them as fast as I could, leaping three or four at a time and skidding across the landings between each flight. I was fearful I might lose two women who were important to me. When I reached the garden the two figures were nowhere to be seen. I ran across the lawns and caught a glimpse of them leaving the garden by one of the side gates that led onto the road. There was a carriage waiting and a man was beckoning to the escaping figures to hurry. It seemed I would be too late to prevent them but I kept running as fast as I could.
By the time I reached the gate, the stranger was waiting with hand outstretched ready to help them board the carriage. He was clearly agitated and exhorted them to speed up their progress. I saw Isabel stand still, clutching the shawl round her shoulders. I saw her turn and take a few steps towards me. The man was still shouting. Then Emma turned her back on him too and they both walked towards me.
Just as I reached Bella, she let the shawl slip from her shoulders and she was naked again. She met me by dropping on her knees to kiss my feet. Then she assumed her usual position on hands and knees and looked up at me.
She led me to where her collar had been cast away and paused for me to buckle it round her neck again.
I patted her rump and told her she had my permission to speak.
Emma stood beside her smiling at me.
“Emma is my sister and the man in the carriage was my brother Clive. He thought we needed rescuing.”
With that said, she led the way back to the house, walking between us, Emma on one side limping a little in her pain, and I on the other.
Like the girls, I had decisions to make that would determine the course of the rest of my life though it was likely fate would also play its part.
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