Kiera of
Gor (1)
(a
sporadic new mini-series)
1: Café
Gold
I was drinking
expensive coffee at a fashionable Notting Hill café in the heart of
London when I first saw the Gorean coin. Of course at that time I had
no concept that it was Gorean. I had never heard of the world, nor
had I considered the possibility that a Counter Earth could exist on
the far side of the sun. I knew nothing of Priest Kings or Ubars or
worlds with multiple moons or steel ships. I simply stared at the
coin as Sophia placed it on the café table in front of me and
watched her sit back, pleased with herself for the first time in many
months. The coin was quite large, larger than any of the Earth coins
in my purse. It was roughly made, crudely stamped and yellow like raw
gold. I picked up the coin and was surprised at how heavy it felt.
The script on the edges was unfamiliar and the curious designs made
no sense as far as I could tell. I looked at Sophia, hoping for an
explanation.
"Is this
some sort of film prop?" Sophia was an actress, or rather she
like to call herself an actress. In the three years since we'd been
at University together she had found parts for herself in two
commercials and a voice over for a documentary about geese. To make
ends meet she had been forced to take up employment in a corporate
call centre, just as I had. It was gruelling work and neither of us
particularly enjoyed it.
"Not a
prop, no, Michelle." She smiled and raised her own coffee to her
lips. Sophia was beautiful - not as beautiful as I of course, but I
could see why many men fought hard for her attentions. Like me she
wore the prescribed office uniform of a white blouse, knee length
black skirt and heeled shoes. Personally I resented being made to
wear a skirt to work. I felt it was demeaning - making me out to be
less than my male colleagues. I wasn't of course forbidden to wear
trousers, but I knew only too well from past experience that women
who did so saw their careers suffer. My Manager had strict opinions
on how women should dress and there were a thousand ways he could
make my life difficult if I chose not to comply.
I turned my
attention again to the coin and placed it back onto the table. The
metal glinted in the warm sunlight as I touched it.
"What is
it? Where did you find it?"
"It's made
of gold. It's my pay."
"Your
pay?" I was, I admit, curious. Firstly, if the coin truly was
made of gold it must be worth a tidy sum. And secondly it struck me
as a very unusual way of paying anyone's wages.
"I'm no
longer working at Pierce and Morgan. I quit yesterday and walked out.
That's my first day's wages."
I looked at the
coin again. It was a day's wages? Surely not. I speculated that the
coin might be worth as much as nine hundred pounds. I thought of my
own hourly wage and suddenly felt very jealous.
"Tell me
about your new job."
Sophia smiled
but suddenly seemed very evasive. "I can't say much." She
glanced around as if concerned that someone might overhear what she
had to say. There were other diners in the café, but no one seemed
to be paying us much attention as we drank our coffee and chatted
during our lunch hour. True, from time to time we received the
attention of men, their eyes studying us closely, but this was
something I was used to. We were of course both very beautiful women.
In truth I enjoyed being aware of male attention. I enjoyed the fact
that they could look but not touch. I enjoyed the power that I
possessed to deny them my body.
"At the
moment I'm on a retainer of sorts, and I'm going to be working
abroad. I'll receive full training and the job includes its own
accommodation."
"But what
will you be doing?"
"It's a
service role of sorts. Well, that's how it was described to me over
the phone." Sophia continued to sound evasive.
"Over the
phone?"
"Yes - it
was so strange. I was working at the Pierce and Morgan call centre as
normal, and I received a call from a man who called himself Mr Smith.
He said I had been highly recommended by one of his employees and
would I be interested in a job contract with exceptional pay."
I reclined back
in my chair and considered this. The idea of Sophia suddenly becoming
rich and successful, seemingly overnight, was an unsettling one. True
we were friends but we were also rivals. Ever since University we had
aggressively competed in everything we did. Clothes, boyfriends, it
was always a contest of one upmanship. I would secretly hate Sophia
whenever she wore a nicer dress than me, or whenever she had a
boyfriend that I secretly wanted for myself. Sophia was dark haired,
with soft tanned skin and sea blue eyes. My hair was a light blonde
in contrast, slightly longer than Sophia’s and, dare I say it,
better cut, though I am of course possibly biased. I was an inch
taller than her, and, as I constantly reminded her, my breasts were
one cup size larger too. Like Sophia I too frequented the tanning
salons and enjoyed a healthy looking skin colour despite the lack of
sun in London.
"You're
jealous!" Sophia looked at me and laughed.
"No I'm
not," I snapped quickly. "I'm pleased for you. Well done."
My smile felt stretched on my face.
"Michelle,
there's no need to be jealous. You see, here's the best part, Mr
Smith is looking for additional employees. In fact, he's told me to
recommend someone. I'll even receive commission. I could recommend
you."
I stared at the
solid gold coin as it lay on the café table cloth. I so much wanted
it. Several of those would pay off the student loan that still hung
like an albatross around my neck.
"What
qualifications would I need?"
Sophia looked
puzzled for a moment. She shrugged. "You know, that's really
strange."
"What is?"
"They
weren't interested in my qualifications come to think of it. I told
them about my degree in English, but…"
"They
hired you on the basis of the interview alone?"
"Not even
that really… I had the offer on the phone. The meeting was just a
formality. They already had my CV and picture it seemed."
I thought this
sounded very strange, but the sight of that gold coin made me ignore
the circumstances for now.
"But you
met this Mr Smith?"
"Yes."
Sophia lowered her eyes for a moment. I noticed her hands trembled a
little as she held them together.
"What is
he like?"
"Strong."
"Strong?
What does that mean?"
"I'd
rather not talk about him. Or the meeting. He gave me the coin at the
end of the interview and assured me I wouldn't regret my decision."
"You'll be
working for this Mr Smith?"
"Oh no.
He's just a local recruitment officer. I'll be working abroad."
"Where
exactly?"
"Um…"
Sophia thought hard. "I was rather excited at the time, I didn't
really take in all the details. I think he mentioned a city called
Corcyrus. It may be in the Mediterranean."
"I've not
heard of the place." It didn't really matter. All that mattered
was the promise of a gold coin each and every day. I thought of the
things that gold could buy me. So many lovely things. I looked at my
watch. If I didn’t leave soon I’d be late back to work and that
would entail a verbal warning from my manager. But if this new and
mysterious job offer came through, such things would be history.
Sophia
understood that look in my eye. She reached over and took hold of the
bill. “My treat. I’ll speak to Mr Smith and he’ll call you.”
“When?” I
tried not to look too desperate for this. Sophia’s hand closed
around the gold coin as she placed it back inside her handbag.
“I don’t
know. Soon I expect. I imagine he’d want us to leave together.”
Sophia rose from the table and it was then that I caught sight of
something around her ankle. I looked as she picked up her jacket from
the back of the chair and I saw that it was a slim ankle chain of
some sort. But whereas most ankle chains were made of gold, or made
to resemble gold, this one seemed to be made of steel. True, the
links were small and feminine, but even so it seemed strange that
Sophia would have bought an ankle chain. Sophia suddenly noticed what
I was staring at, and blushed.
“Is something
wrong?” I asked.
“No. Why
should there be?” She shivered and drew her jacket on. She seemed
very conscious, perhaps a little too conscious of the ankle chain. I
stared again. It couldn’t be. Was that… “I have to go now. I’ll
speak to you soon.” Sophia hurried off into the busy street,
looking to her left and right as she did. I chewed my lower lip and
considered what I had just seen. Perhaps I was wrong, but it seemed
to me that the ankle chain had a small metal disk in place of one of
the links and, although it was too small to read, there seemed to be
some kind of symbol engraved on its surface. But it was the second
thing which seemed most strange. Again I could have been mistaken,
but it did seem that the ankle chain had a small lock on it.
I picked up my
own jacket and hurried back to my office.
2:
A Whispered
Conversation
“Good
evening, you are through to Pierce and Morgan. My name is Michelle.
How may I help you?”
I was nearing
the end of my shift in the call centre when Mr Smith rang. I somehow
knew it was him the moment he spoke. What I didn’t know was that I
was addressing a Gorean man.
“I am
speaking to Miss Frost I trust.” The voice sounded like strong dark
coffee would if it could speak. The tone was hard, cultured and
commanding.
“Yes.”
I hadn’t expected this. Calls come through at random in a call
centre. It is not possible to dial an individual unless you can
somehow bypass the automated switchboard that administers the queues.
“My
name is Mr Smith. I understand you are expecting my call.” I tried
to imagine what the face behind that voice might look like.
Distinguished, rich, handsome, tall, strong. Wasn’t that what
Sophia had said? Strong? She had called him strong? I sat back in my
chair and looked around the call centre. It was late and only half
the cubicles were filled. It was unlikely at this time in the evening
that my calls would be personally monitored by my supervisor. Even so
I kept my voice low. I didn’t want to be overheard by anyone
walking by.
“Yes,
Sophia told me that…”
“Sophia
works for me now.” He cut me off just like that. Interrupted my
sentence as if whatever I was about to say wasn’t important. I hate
men like that. I hate the way men expect me to listen to them. But I
held my tongue and thought simply of the gold coin and others like
it. “The question is, would you like to work for me too?”
“What
sort of work?” I enquired casually, though my heart was beating
hard and my pulse was quickening.
“The
kind of work that will pay you a gold coin every day. Does that
interest you?”
“Yes.”
I fidgeted in my seat again. The man in the cubicle opposite was
watching me. Carl often stared at me throughout the day. Sometimes I
wondered whether he was composing fantasies about me to alleviate the
boredom of working for Pierce and Morgan. I hated him. I hated the
way he looked at me as if he owned me.
“Good.”
The voice almost purred, but it was the purr of a powerful lion.
“But
I’d like…”
He interrupted
me again. “You will listen carefully and you will speak only when I
specifically ask you a question. Even then you will restrict your
words to providing me with a concise answer. If you forget this I
will simply hang up and employ someone else. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
I was shocked by this. Who did he think he was?
“Tell
me - what are you wearing?”
I sat there,
speechless with rage. Sophia had said nothing of this! My finger
moved towards the ‘panic’ button that would disconnect the call.
I wasn’t going to put up with this.
“You’re
silent. Sophia answered my question. Sophia was paid a gold coin.
Sophia will receive another one tomorrow. I see you are different.
Goodbye.”
“Wait!”
There was a trace of panic in my voice as I said it.
“You
are free so you are entitled to one second chance. Do not waste it.”
I thought that
was a very strange thing for him to say. I breathed in, tried to
control my nerves, and replied “I’m wearing a black, pin dot
pencil skirt, a white long sleeve cotton blouse, with the top two
buttons undone, and a pair of black, two part leather shoes with
three and a half inch heels.”
The line was
silent and for a moment I feared he really had hung up on me after
all.
“Surely
that’s not all you’re wearing, is it?” He said it as a matter
of fact.
I was blushing
now, realizing what he meant. This was too much! “Flesh coloured
tights,” I whispered into the phone, “and a white bra and
mini-briefs.”
“You’re
finding these questions embarrassing. I can tell from the tone of
your voice.”
“They’re
hardly appropriate!” I replied.
“On the
contrary. Your answers tell me quite a lot about you.”
“Such
as?”
“Such
as whether or not you can work in Corcyrus.” There was that word
again. Sophia had mentioned it. It did sound Mediterranean.
“Where
is Corcyrus exactly?”
“Far
away. You will see it soon.”
“I’ll
be working there?”
“Possibly.
In some capacity.”
“Then
you think I’m suitable for the job you have in mind?”
“Miss
Frost, There is no question that you seem potentially suitable for at
least one of two jobs. The question is which one. One is in a…”
he hesitated for a moment, “managerial capacity, and the other most
certainly is not.”
“I
would obviously be interested in the managerial position.” It was
safe to assume it would pay more.
“Of
course, though most women find themselves selected for the…”
again he hesitated as if searching for the correct description, “more
junior position. We are people who expect results. That is why we pay
well.”
"I am not most
women.” I turned my swivel chair round. Carl was also on the phone
to a customer, but I could see that his eyes were on me again. From
the expression on his face I could tell that he had guessed I wasn’t
taking a business call. I tried to speak as quietly as I could. “I’m
confident I won’t disappoint you.”
“We
shall see. I will assess you personally tonight. You will attend a
house in Belgravia at ten o’clock. A car will be sent for you.
Dress appropriately.”
I tapped the
end of my pen against the monitor as I listened to this. “You wish
me to dress for a formal interview?”
“No,”
the voice sounded almost angry. “I said dress appropriately.”
“I
don’t understand.”
“You
are a woman. Dress appropriately for your sex.” And with that he
ended the call. I flicked the ‘off line’ button on my phone set
and swiveled round on my chair again. I could hardly contain my
excitement. I was going to have a new job, well paid, and be working
somewhere foreign and mysterious. And yet through all of this, I
still hadn’t discovered exactly what I would be doing. How very
naïve of me.
3: The
House of Three Moons
Any doubts I may previously
have entertained as to the resources of my potential employer were
swiftly discarded as soon as the black London taxi drew up outside
the exclusive Belgravia residence. The house was large and stood in
an area of London where most of the foreign embassies were located.
Indeed this house resembled the embassies as it too had secure iron
gates in front of its courtyard and discreet security cameras
overlooking the entrance to the driveway. Two men, both tall and
powerfully built, with short hair, wearing smart black suits, stood
at the entrance way, presumably acting as security guards. Whoever my
new employer was he certainly possessed the resources needed to
maintain an exclusive address in the heart of International London.
As I approached the iron
gate one of the men said something into his walkie talkie. The other
man pressed a button that slid the gate open electronically. I walked
through feeling suddenly very important. I was glad that I had chosen
to wear a simple black trouser suit. There was an air of old world
authority to this place and I didn’t want to appear awed by my
surroundings or the people who owned it. It struck me that these men
must want the services of Michelle Frost quite badly and this meant I
was in a position of advantage. I would negotiate with them with the
cool air of a professional business woman. They would soon discover
that my price was not cheap.
“This way Miss Frost.”
The taller of the two men, though they were both impressively tall,
took my arm, quite firmly and escorted me towards the main door. The
top of the archway contained a heavy stone carved with a symbol of
three moons orbiting a planet. Blinds were drawn against the lower
windows and curtains were drawn on the upper floors. I was led into a
beautiful hallway with elegant wood panelled walls and antique
furnishings and on into a spacious reception room. A log fire burned
in a 19th century hearth. Two sumptuous armchairs were
drawn up next to the fire and, to the side of the larger chair, stood
an antique side table big enough to hold a crystal decanter and two
barbaric looking goblets.
I was about to sit down in
one of the armchairs when the man who had escorted me in suddenly
spoke. “Do not sit yet.”
“Oh.” I froze and
remained where I stood in the centre of the room.
“You will be told if and
when you can seat yourself.”
“I see.” My voice
betrayed my irritation at this. Why should I have to stand?
“Mr Smith will be here
shortly. In the meantime, remain where you are.”
“Very well.” I clenched
my hands. This was hardly an appropriate welcome. “I trust he will
not keep me waiting long?”
“He will keep you waiting
as long as he feels is appropriate,” replied the man in the suit.
“If you have a problem with that you may leave.”
“No, I do not have a
problem with that.” I thought again of the gold coin I had seen.
All I had to do was put up with this charade a little longer and then
I too would have one. So what if I had to stand for a few minutes.
“You were told to dress
appropriately.” The man regarded my choice of clothing with what
amounted to disapproval.
“I am dressed
appropriately.” Who was he to speak to me like this? I stared him
down, and made it quite clear that his opinion was of little interest
to me.
“Men will be the judge of
that. You should have worn a dress or a skirt.”
I was about to say something
dismissive when another man suddenly entered the room behind the
first. This man wore an expensive looking Italian suit and boasted a
very healthy looking tan that reaffirmed my suspicions that the
proposed job involved the Mediterranean. He was, I suppose, handsome.
Well yes, very handsome, but in a stern, almost dangerous way. His
hair was short, cropped in a close cut Roman style that added to his
air of sombre authority.
“Is there a problem?” he
asked.
“No Sir,” replied the
first man who was obviously a subordinate of some kind.
“You are Miss Frost?” He
regarded me casually as he walked towards the fireplace.
“Yes.”
“My name is Smith. Unbind
your hair." He was referring of course to the fact that I
currently wore my hair tied back with a black ribbon in a pony tail
fashion. I found the style more convenient for day to day working. I
love my long hair but it often got in the way when I was working.
Also, and this was something that annoyed me, I found that men tended
to treat me differently, less seriously when I wore my hair loose and
long. I was awarded more respect and treated more appropriately as a
serious scholar when I tied my hair back.
"I prefer it the way it
is."
"I do not." The
tone of his voice didn't suggest he was in the mood to discuss the
matter further. My hands shook a little as I undid the ribbon and
brushed my hair forward. Mr Smith watched me carefully as I complied
with his wishes. Only when I finished did he speak again.
“You are quite beautiful.”
He sat down in the largest of the two arm chairs and crossed one leg
over the other.
“Thank you.”
“Believe me, I am
something of an expert when it comes to recognising and assessing
beautiful women. And I think you are truly exceptional.”
I basked in his praise and
allowed a little smile to cross my face. He noticed this and laughed.
“I also think you are
quite vain, Miss Frost.”
“Perhaps. May I sit?”
“No.” Mr Smith clicked
his fingers – a signal to his subordinate to leave. He did so,
closing and locking the double doors behind him. I don’t know why
but the sound of the lock made me twitch. “There is a rug close by
my feet. You may kneel on it while we talk.”
I couldn’t believe I was
hearing this. Kneel? When there was a perfectly good arm chair
opposite his? “Perhaps I do not want to kneel,” I replied.
“Perhaps I will not stay to be treated like this.” I walked
swiftly towards the great double doors and placed my well manicured
hand on the door handle. It was stiff and it refused to open. "The
door is locked," I said, with a slight quaver to my voice. I
tried to appear unconcerned as if there was nothing to be worried
about.
"Indeed it is." Mr
Smith placed his hands on the arm rests of his chair.
"I can't open it."
"That is correct."
He regarded me curiously. I shrugged and adjusted my shoulder bag.
"I would like to
leave."
Now Mr Smith reached into
his pocket and produced a flat golden coin similar to the one that
Sophia had shown me. I grew excited now as he casually placed the
coin on the wooden surface of a small coffee table. As I watched, he
folded his fingers together and regarded me again. From where I stood
I could see that the surface of the coin was stamped with three
moons. “Are you quite sure you want to leave?”
“Perhaps I was hasty.”
The coin sat there, heavy and golden, promising me more money than I
could earn in a fortnight.
“Perhaps you were. Kneel.”
Swallowing my pride, I knelt
where he indicated, on the curiously woven rug, close to his feet. I
knelt with my knees together, my bottom resting on the heels of my
feet. I looked up at this strong, confident man, and I felt suddenly
very small and weak in comparison.
“Good.” He seemed
pleased at last.
"Where is Sophia?"
I asked.
"Preparing to travel."
"Travel? Where? She
didn't tell me she was going anywhere so soon." Mr Smith didn't
reply. "I want to see her."
"I'm sure that can be
arranged. In fact I'm certain of it."
“Then… I have the job?”
“I think so, yes. If you
accept, you will be paid one of these every day.” He pointed to the
gold coin.
That was all I wanted to
hear. In my greed I reached for the coin, but suddenly his hand shot
out and seized hold of my wrist mere inches from the coin. I
screamed, but I couldn’t free my hand. It was held in a vice like
grip.
“You’re hurting me!”
He relaxed his grip a
little, but still held me firmly. “You understand, Miss Frost, that
if you take that coin you are in my employ. We will have a contract.”
I nodded.
“You understand then that
I would not take kindly to second thoughts once you have taken my
money?”
I found this rather worrying
but the lure of the gold was still too much for me. Perhaps he was
hinting that his business operated in the grey area of the law.
Perhaps he was less than forthcoming when it came to paying his
taxes. None of this really mattered to me. “I understand
perfectly.”
His grip relaxed and I was
allowed to take the coin. I held it tightly in the palm of my hand.
“So now you work for me.”
“Now I work for you.” I
nibbled my lower lip. His voice suddenly sounded cold.
“Extend your left foot.”
Mr Smith removed something else from his pocket. It was a steel ankle
chain, like the one Sophia had been wearing at the café. Like hers,
it too had a small engraved disc and a sturdy looking lock.
Placing my weight on one
hand, I extended my foot as instructed and felt Mr Smith take my
ankle and quickly lock the tight chain in place. I drew my foot back
and touched the cold metal links. The disc clearly stated my name
along with a set of numbers.
“I don’t understand. Why
do I have to wear this?”
“There are two types of
girls going to Corcyrus. I wouldn’t want you to be mistaken for the
wrong consignment.”
“Consignment?” I ran my
fingers over the links. The chain was locked on me, that much was
certain.
“Yes, consignment. Until
tomorrow Miss Frost.”
“Wait!” I turned on my
hands and knees, still kneeling on the rug, as he walked back towards
the door. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to go! What am I
supposed to do?”
“Ignorance can be bliss.
We will come for you when the time is right. Until then, enjoy your
gold.” And with that he left. I quickly rose to my feet. This was
too much. I would find Sophia tonight and discover once and for all
what this was about.
4: A Call
in the Night
By the time I got home to my
small one bedroom flat it was close to midnight. Although a car had
been sent to deliver me to the House of Three Moons, I had been left
to my own devices to find my way back again. The tube stations were
running slow due to bomb scares in London and many of the stations
were shut altogether.
As I closed the door behind
me and switched on the light I stared with distaste at the cramped
and unwelcoming room, with its cheap carpet, yellow patterned
wallpaper and tiny windows overlooking an alleyway. The steady thud
of a stereo from the floor above mine reminded me how low my fortunes
had sunk since I had moved to London in search of work. But now
everything would change. With this much gold I could save for a
deposit to buy a place while I was working abroad. Life would get
better. I clutched the heavy coin in the palm of my right hand as I
picked up the telephone with my left. Speed dialling Sophia’s
number brought no response except her answering machine. It was
unusual for her to be out at this time of night on a week day, and
hadn’t Mr Smith said something about Sophia packing her travel bags
tonight?
“Sophia, it’s Michelle.
Call me when you get in. I’ve just back from meeting Mr Smith. I
want to talk to you about it.” I was about to put the receiver down
when suddenly there was a click at the other end, signifying the
phone had been picked up.
“Who is this?” The voice
belonged to a man, and for a moment I was confused by the accent
until I suddenly realised it was the same accent that Mr Smith had.
“Who are you?” I asked
in return. “Where’s Sophia?”
“Is that Miss Frost?”
The man had ignored my questions.
“Yes, yes it is.” I
placed the gold coin down on the surface of the cheap dresser and
cradled the phone receiver against my chin.
“Why are you calling
here?”
“I wanted to speak to
Sophia. Is she there?”
“Go to bed. Sleep and
shower in the morning. Then phone your place of work and notify your
manager that you have resigned. You will be contacted later in the
day. Do not leave your flat until you hear from us.”
“What?” I began to pace
about my tiny living room, feeling frustrated by all this mystery.
The light, feminine steel chain, for I had ascertained it was made of
steel, felt cold and tight around my ankle, reminding me only too
well that it was locked upon me.
“In future men will not
repeat instructions to you. I suggest you learn to listen to them
carefully the first time around.”
“I find your attitude very
rude. What is your name?”
“Santos.” It was the
first time he had deigned to answer one of my questions. “Remember
it well, woman. Be sure I will remember yours.” And then he hung
up.
I dashed the phone receiver
against the base unit and swore to myself. But then the sight of the
gold served to calm me down. By the end of a week I would have seven
of those coins, and by the end of a month thirty. Yes, I could afford
to bite my tongue and put up with the rudeness of men. I laughed to
myself. Why, wasn’t it true that in a way I was using them? I was
taking their money just as long as it suited me, and then when they
were no more use to me, I would tell Mr Santos and Mr Smith precisely
what I thought of them.
I glanced again at the steel
chain on my ankle, and shivered. There were numbers engraved on the
disc, like the reference for a shipment of some kind. I had no idea
what it meant. Also, and this thought had just occurred to me, the
chain and the disc around my ankle effectively labelled me, as if I
were some sort of commodity that could be numbered and documented.
Such a thing afforded me little in the way of dignity. Moving across
the room, I sat down on the second hand sofa and stretched out my
leg. Pulling the leg of my trouser suit up, I caressed the chain with
the extended fingers of my left hand. It felt strange to have steel
locked on my body; in particular to know that I could not simply
remove it if I wished to. A man had secured the chain to my ankle and
it was a man who would have to remove it. I felt sure that these were
no ordinary men that I was dealing with. Each man I had spoken to
possessed a surety and confidence that was altogether absent in my
previous dealings with their sex.
I was considering whether to
go straight to bed or to watch some TV first when my phone rang. For
some reason I jumped as the ring tone sounded. Why was I nervous?
What was there to be nervous about? I was Michelle Frost, and I was
quite capable of controlling the situation to my excellent benefit.
The phone rang again several times before I gingerly reached out and
picked up the receiver. “Hello?” I said, choosing for some
unconscious reason not to identify myself.
“Michelle?”
“Yes.” I recognised the
voice as belonging to Sophia. “I’ve been trying to reach you. You
got my message then?”
“Message?” There was
something wrong with her voice. She sounded out of breath, and on the
edge of tears. “I didn’t get any message.”
“I just called your flat.
A man answered and was very rude to me. Are you okay?” I curled my
feet up beneath me as I sat on the sofa.
“No… no, I’m not okay.
Can you meet me, Michelle? I mean now? I’m scared. I’m in a bar
not far from you.”
“What’s wrong?” My
feeling of alarm grew at the sound of her breaking voice.
“I can’t talk on the
phone. But I really want to see you. Please come now.” She gave me
the address of a bar that stayed open until two in the morning.
“Is this to do with Mr
Smith and your new job?” I asked. I heard sobs by way of reply.
“Please come, Michelle. I
don’t know what else to do.” And then her money ran out, which
meant she was calling from a public phone box instead of using her
mobile. Instinctively I dialled 1471 to obtain the number of the call
box, but by the time I got it and pressed redial, she had gone,
presumably back into the bar.
The clock on my wall showed
it was now half past twelve. It would take me half an hour to get to
the bar on foot, and probably longer if I had to wait for a taxi at
this time of night. I chose to walk.
The bar was small and in the
back streets away from the main thoroughfares that served as central
arteries through London. I walked quickly down narrow side streets,
between tall imposing buildings, grey and impersonal in the night
sky. Why had Sophia chosen such an out of the way place to meet me?
Inside the bar I saw my
friend seated at a corner table. There were several other late night
drinkers present, mostly winding down after an evening out at the
West End or the South Bank. I made my way quickly to Sophia’s table
and sat down opposite her.
“What are you doing here?”
I asked as I placed my hand bag on the table.
“Something awful is
happening to me.”
“What do you mean?”
looking closely I could see my friend was close to tears.
“I had a phone call this
afternoon.”
“Mr Smith?” I asked,
though the answer was obvious.
“Yes. I was told to report
to the house in Belgravia because our employer wanted to record some
personal information pertinent to my new role. Having turned up on
time, in fact ten minutes early, I was led into a secluded suite of
rooms towards the rear of the house. A woman was waiting there for
me.”
“A woman?” This
interested me as until now the House of the Three Moons had seemed to
be a peculiarly male environment. Women had been conspicuously
absent, and nothing about the furnishings or interior design had
suggested any kind of feminine touch. The House of the Three Moons
was such an exercise in masculine vanity that it almost seemed to
sweat testosterone.
“She introduced herself as
Lisa and explained that she was there to assess me. Her choice of
clothing seemed very incongruous considering the old world
environment of oak panelled rooms and displays of antique weapons and
armour throughout the house. Lisa wore a very short silk dress,
sleeveless and little more than a slip really. It was tightly belted,
accentuating her slim waist. She was barefoot and I could tell that
she wasn’t wearing a bra.”
“This just got weirder.”
“Yes. Other than the thin
filmy dress, she wore a black silk scarf wrapped several times around
her throat.”
I thought this was a strange
fashion accessory to be worn indoors, particularly in conjunction
with a slip-like dress, but then everything about this affair seemed
bizarre from the very outset.
“The door was closed
behind me, ensuring privacy for when Lisa asked me to undress.”
“Undress?” I stared
blankly at my friend. “What on earth for?”
“It seems they wanted to
measure me.”
“What for? A uniform? Will
we have to wear uniforms?”
Sophia blushed as she
recalled the events that occurred to her earlier today. “Somehow I
don’t think so, for the measurements they took were unusual. Lisa
seemed uninterested in my waist, hip or bra sizes.”
“Then what did she measure
exactly?”
“Well…” again Sophia
blushed. “She measured my collar size.”
“For a blouse? But surely
she would need other measurements than that.”
Sophia nodded in agreement.
“And she made careful and exact measurements of my wrist and ankle
sizes.”
“But that doesn’t make
sense. How can these measurements be used to clothe you?”
“I don’t know. Lisa went
on to record things like my finger prints and toe prints, the width
and length of my fingers and toes, the width of my heels, and the
distance between my nostrils, the size of my earlobes, all manner of
trivial things. She examined my teeth and…” and now Sophia looked
away, unable to meet my gaze.
“What? What else?”
“She examined me…
intimately… to determine if I was a virgin.”
“No!” I sat back in my
chair in amazement. “You’re making this up…”
“I swear I’m not.”
“What did you say?”
“By this stage I didn’t
know what to say. Oh Michelle, I’m feeling really nervous about
this. I don’t like this. And there’s more.”
I wondered what else Sophia
could possibly say that would surprise me. But in fact she didn’t
have to say anything. She simply pointed at her ear lobes which I
suddenly noticed were pierced with simple gold studs. I knew for a
fact that her ears hadn’t been pierced before today.
“When did…”
“Lisa told me I would be
required to have pierced ears where I was going. She did it at the
end of my examination.”
“This is too much. They
have no right.” I thought of my own ears – they had never been
pierced and never would be. Yes I sometimes wore clip on earrings,
but to have one’s ears pierced… it seemed too feminine, too
conventionally feminine, too submissive. I wanted to be taken
seriously by men, and did not want pierced ears to remind them of my
sex.
“When I returned home
afterwards I saw a light switch briefly on in my living room, as if
someone was looking for something, but didn’t want the light on too
long for fear that it might warn me that someone was inside my home,
for a few seconds later it went off again. It was only by chance that
I saw it at all.”
“You didn’t enter your
flat?”
“No, of course not. I was
suddenly very scared. I ran to a public phone box and called the
police.”
“Good. What did the Police
find when they searched your flat?” I suddenly recalled the man who
had answered Sophia’s phone just before midnight. The man hadn’t
answered any of my questions but he seemed to know me.
“It never got that far.
When I gave my name, the policeman at the switchboard seemed to
recognise it, perhaps from a list. He told me that I would have to be
put through to a special department.”
“A special department to
deal with intruders?”
“I don’t think so. I had
barely explained what was happening. When my call was transferred,
the man I now spoke to sounded cold and distant, and I instinctively
had a bad feeling about him. He wanted to know where I was. He would
send a patrol car round to pick me up. But he didn’t seem to be
very interested in why I had called. I put the phone down and ran –
I don’t know why – and I ended up here, where I’ve been all
night, only leaving the bar to phone your flat every hour.”
“Sophia, this sounds
unbelievable.” A thought crossed my mind. “You haven’t been
using cocaine again, have you? You know how paranoid that used to
make you.”
“No! No, I haven’t taken
any drugs! I’m not imagining this, Michelle. It happened, every bit
of it. Look at my ears!”
“It just seems…”
“Michelle, I’m so
scared. I don’t know why, but I am. I can’t go home and I’m now
too scared to phone the police.”
I reached over and took
Sophia’s hands in mine. “It’s okay, there’s bound to be a
rational explanation for all of this. But you can’t stay here. This
bar will close in half an hour. Come back to my flat and spend the
night with me.”
Sophia sobbed. “I don’t
even know if that’s safe. You’re known to them too.”
“Don’t be so
melodramatic.” I softly dried her tears with a clean tissue from my
bag. “Nothing is going to happen to you in my flat. I think you’re
worrying needlessly. Okay, so there are aspects of all this that do
seem strange, even intrusive, but there’s nothing illegal going on.
These people are obviously foreign. This is probably how they do
things in their country. But they’re not criminals. Come on.” I
helped Sophia to her feet and led her to the door. Somehow, in
reassuring her, I had banished my own concerns and doubts. Her
obvious paranoia was so out of proportion to what I had seen that I
felt confident that everything would work out fine.
“Michelle, there’s one
other thing that I didn’t tell you.”
“Oh? What?” I hesitated
as we stepped outside into the cold night air.
“I told you that Lisa was
wearing a silk scarf.”
“Yes you did.”
“Well, at one point when
she knelt down to measure my ankle size, the silk slipped a little
and I caught a glimpse of something underneath it.”
“What?” For some reason
I suddenly felt nervous about hearing the answer.
“I only saw it for a
second. I could be mistaken. But I think Lisa was wearing a steel
collar.”
5:
Strangers in the Night
They came for Sophia at four
o’ clock in the morning. I don’t think I was really their
intended target that night, but as I was with Sophia, the rest is
history. As I have already stated, my flat was very small. The
bedroom itself had little room for anything other than a double bed,
a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. It was now gone two in the morning
and I for one was feeling tired. Sophia claimed she was too nervous
to sleep but, after much prompting from me, she accepted one of my
old t-shirts, undressed down to her underwear, pulling the t-shirt on
over her head, and slid between the sheets with me. The last time I
had shared my bed with a friend was in my first year at university,
and it felt strange to be doing so again, after so long living on my
own. The room was cold and we shivered together while we waited for
our body heat to warm the bed up. Without meaning to, my foot brushed
the ankle chain around Sophia’s foot and I was suddenly reminded
how we were both effectively labelled, awaiting our respective
consignments.
“Can I see your ankle
bracelet?” I asked, as I turned on to my side to face her.
“But it’s cold.”
Sophia snuggled deeper under the sheets and slid her braceleted leg
up towards her hand so that she was able to touch the hard steel.
“I want to see what you’ve
got written on yours.”
With some reluctance, Sophia
drew herself up from under the sheets and sat at the head of the bed.
She extended her ankle towards me and I took it with my left hand,
turning the chain so that I could see the engraved disc. “You can’t
remove it can you?”
“No.” Sophia sighed.
“It’s locked and won’t open.”
“Only a man can open it,”
I added.
“Why do you say that?”
Sophia looked at me.
“I don’t know.” That
was true. I didn’t know why I had said that. Why should I think in
terms of the ankle chain being removed by a man?
“You’re always thinking
of men!” Sophia turned her head away.
“I am not.”
“Yes you are. You always
worry about what they think of you.”
“It’s not like that.”
“But your boyfriends never
last long. You always grow tired of them.”
“Sophia!” It was true,
but it was a cruel thing to say to me.
“And you know why. It’s
because you always pick nice men. Boringly nice men who are afraid to
upset you in any way. I think deep down you want someone stronger.”
“Can we stop talking about
this?” In the dim light of my bedside lamp I could make out
Sophia’s first name on the disc, a serial number of sorts and a
consignment reference which differed from mine. “I don’t think
we’re travelling together. Look. You have a different flight number
to me.”
“You know for a fact that
we’re flying somewhere?”
“Well how else will we
travel?”
“Perhaps we are being sent
to different cities. Perhaps we will not be working together.”
I looked at Sophia and I
remembered how Mr Smith had decided I might be suitable for a
managerial post. I wondered whether that was still the case for my
friend. Perhaps, I thought, she would be in a junior position to me.
Perhaps I would be travelling business class while she was packed in
to economy. Perhaps that was the meaning behind the different
consignment references. Actually, as I gazed at Sophia, I quite
enjoyed the thought of being in control of her. We had been rivals
too often in the past for me not to feel competitive now. It would be
nice to tell her what to do; to correct her if she made a mistake; to
discuss her performance with my superiors. I smiled, and decided that
I would be a strict manager to Sophia.
When they did come, I of
course didn’t hear a thing until I awoke with a hand clamped over
my mouth to stifle my screams. There is that first moment of
wakefulness when you are disorientated, not knowing whether you still
sleep or not, not knowing what that pressure on your face could be. I
tried to move, but hands gripped me and turned me quickly over onto
my belly. I was aware of the cotton sheets being pulled away, and of
Sophia, still lying beside me, struggling helplessly.
“This one has been tagged
as well. She must be on our list.”
“Good. They’ve saved us
some time by sharing the same room tonight.”
I wanted to scream; I needed
to scream, but all I could muster under the circumstances was a
muffled choke. The men holding me were strong, very strong. No matter
how hard I struggled, I couldn’t escape the firm clench of their
grip. Oblivious now to what was happening to Sophia, I felt a thick
ball gag being forced into my mouth by patient, determined fingers,
and leather straps being secured and tied at the back of my head to
hold the gag in place. My face was pressed into the white cotton
pillow as one man lifted up my t-shirt and pulled down my panties to
expose my bottom and the small of my back.
“Administer the paralysing
agent. We don’t have all night.”
I felt cold in my lower back
as a cotton swab dabbed disinfectant against my skin. The touch of
the swab was swiftly followed by the sharp jab of a hypodermic
needle. I whimpered through my gag, afraid of what the drug would do
to me. Although I couldn’t see it happen, men were also preparing
Sophia for shipment too. I reached out with my left hand and touched
the fingers of her right. We gripped each other tightly as the quick
acting paralysing agent was carried through our blood stream. Within
a matter of seconds I began to feel numb. Very quickly I lost all
sensation of touch which was swiftly followed by complete muscular
paralysis throughout my entire body. I lay there, fully conscious and
aware, but unable to move any of my limbs.
The men had pencil
flashlights to work by. In the dim light I saw one of them produce a
sharp folding knife and quickly cut away the few clothes that Sophia
had been wearing in bed. The shreds of material were stuffed into a
plastic bag, presumably because the men did not want to leave behind
any evidence of their abduction. Then my t-shirt and panties were
also cut away and discarded. I lay on the bed, naked and helpless as
the man checked our ankle chains one at a time.
“Sophia, 8A7753C,
consignment 21AA.” One of his assistants marked her name on a small
list.
“Good. Mark her. Left
thigh, common brand.”
I was rolled on to my side
so that I could see what was about to happen. One of the men gripped
my head and made sure I was facing Sophia as another man produced a
small torch-like device and pressed a button. Within ten seconds
there was a red glow from the end of the device. He pressed it to
Sophia’s left thigh. Thankfully the paralysing agent prevented
Sophia from feeling a thing, but the plume of smoke and the horrible
smell of burnt flesh told me that she was being branded. After a
matter of seconds, the instrument was withdrawn and switched off. I
could see the shape of a graceful alien letter imprinted in Sophia’s
smooth skin. What I didn’t know was that my friend had just been
permanently marked as a Gorean slave girl.
A man rolled me onto my
belly and checked my ankle chain. “Michelle, 8A7761C, consignment
23AB.”
“Hmm, this is a problem.
She shouldn't be in tonight's consignment – she's an AB, but we can
hardly let her go now that we're here. Downgrade her to an AA on my
authority, the same as her friend. I'll sort out the mess with Santos
tomorrow. He should be more careful. Mark the girl. Left thigh,
common brand. Let's secure them both and get out of here. We have two
more pick ups and then we're done for the night.”
The torch like device was
now pressed against my own thigh. I felt nothing thanks to the
paralysing drug, but again I smelt burning flesh, this time my own.
I could still see Sophia as
one of the men produced a large heavy canvas bag with air holes and
multiple handles. One by one our wrists and ankles were secured with
cable ties. Then my friend was placed inside the bag, with her knees
drawn up to her belly. The zip was then drawn shut across the top. A
second bag was prepared on the floor, and now I felt myself being
lifted and placed inside it. My legs too were drawn up to my stomach.
I wanted to scream for help but my vocal chords seemed to be as
paralysed as my body.
The zip of the bag was drawn
shut, plunging me into darkness.
What occurred next I can
only conjecture. I must have been lifted, possibly by two strong men,
one holding onto the handles of the bag at each end, and like Sophia
before me, I must have been carried out of my apartment, down the
fire escape stairs of my building and out into the quiet night where
they had a van parked nearby. It seemed incredible to me that I could
just be carried so simply from the place in which I lived, concealed
inside a thick canvas bag. Surely someone might see what was
happening and confront the men? But of course it was four o' clock in
the morning and the chances of anyone being about were very slim. And
even if someone did pass by at just the right moment, what would they
do? I imagine my abductors were armed, and if necessary they would
not hesitate to shoot a witness with a silenced automatic pistol.
These men of course were confident in their superiority. They were of
Gor, and they viewed the men of Earth as weak. They would not be
scared of them.
It was the last thing I
remembered before I mercifully passed out.
Very good indeed! Where is the rest of it?
ReplyDeleteBeing written, alongside the upcoming 'Shadows of Gor'. :) You'll see another chapter of it very soon. It's something of a mini-series. Glad you enjoyed the first part! - Emma x
ReplyDeleteVery good writing! I enjoyed the dramatic irony, as we the readers know what Michelle doesn't - that she's being assessed for a life on Gor. Her character is well brought out; she sounds like the sort of woman who will benefit from a bit of slave training. Should be a good little series :)
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed it, PL. Part 2 has been posted this evening. Although it's not obvious yet, the Kiera of Gor mini-series will tie in to the upcoming 'Shadows of Gor' fourth novel, offering some scenes that Emma can't be privy to as she isn't there in person to see/affect any of it. :)
ReplyDelete- Emma x