Steel World Inc. Chapter Sixteen

 

“Lord Jeremy,” said Magnus, pleasantly enough as he gazed at the furious aristocrat. “Thank you for calling round. I hope you enjoyed your time with Judy tonight? Can I offer you a drink?” 

 

“Never mind that, Magnus! I have just found my wife! Have you any idea the state she is in?!”

 

Magnus gently swished the amber whisky round the inside of his cut glass tumbler as he regarded the middle aged aristocrat. 

 

“Unless things have changed significantly, I would say you found her wrists locked in a set of slave bracelets behind her back, and the connecting chain fastened to a bolt in the wall. She would have been gagged, and the lower half of her expensive gown would have been torn away.” He raised the tumbler to his lips and sipped the liquor. “Am I missing any details?”

 

“The nerve you have!” Lord Jeremy Grantham marched into room, brushing aside the security guard. “You bloody foreigner! You bloody damned foreigner!”

 

I thought that was a bit harsh. There was certainly no need to bring his nationality into it, whatever his nationality might be. I for one am not in any way racist. I read the Guardian newspaper. 

 

“Clearly, you are upset.” Magnus placed his whisky tumbler down on the small circular side table. 

 

“Upset! I will have you run out of this country! I’m phoning the Home Secretary tonight, and whatever trumped up visa you have is going to be torn up within days! And that’s just the start! I know men from special regiments!”

 

Magnus leaned forward and smiled. “Threats. Yes, I understand threats. Those things I understand.” He nodded as he clasped his hands together in thought before his lips. “I use threats myself sometimes.” He rose from the sofa. “Between you and me, Lord Jeremy, I’m rather good at them.” Karl Magnus was easily six feet five inches tall as he stood up. 

 

“My wife has been molested! She was helpless, chained, and she has been touched! Intimately touched!”

 

“I know.”

 

There was silence in the room for a moment as Magnus said that.

 

“What? You know?”

 

“Of course I know. In fact I know who touched your wife. He’s sitting over there.” Magnus suddenly pointed to me and, as he did, my blood ran cold. 

 

Oh God. I’d gone too far. What was I thinking? I’d touched Lord Jeremy Grantham’s wife! It was a moment of madness. A cold chill ran down my spine. What had I been thinking? This place… this place with its kinky sex games… I had let it all go to my head.

 

Lord Grantham would have me crucified. I was unlikely to go to court, because he wouldn’t want the publicity, but men like him had connections with the police, with the security services. Anything could happen to me. And Karl Magnus was cutting me loose to save his own skin!

 

I began breathing heavily, feeling very scared now.

 

“Him?!” Lord Grantham turned on me. “You snivelling little pleb,” he spat the words at me. “Your life is about to be ruined.”

 

I was about to plead, but my throat was dry. But then Magnus interrupted.

 

“Am I to understand you desire revenge for what Simon Rogers did to Lady Penelope?”

 

“Of course! And that’s just the start. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your ape of a man who chained her to the wall. But..." he rounded on me again. "I'll have this boy hung drawn and quartered first!”

 

“And such is your right,” said Magnus with apparent approval. Suddenly I had no support. The bastard was only too eager to save himself if he could. 

 

I froze as Magnus reached under a table and produced two heavy looking knives in matching scabbards. These were the kind of knives carried by professional soldiers. Deadly looking knives. He placed them on the table. 

 

“I would ask you both to strip your shirts and jackets before you take up your knives. It is the way.”

 

“What?” Lord Grantham stared at the knives, not really comprehending what was now happening. “What the hell are you talking about, Magnus?”

 

“You feel this man, Simon Rogers, has wronged you? You require satisfaction? It will be with blades. I honour you, Lord Jeremy, with the use of my own. We will clear a space for you to fight.”

 

“What? I’m not fighting with a knife!”

 

Magnus now walked slowly towards Lord Jeremy Grantham. He stopped, turned and regarded me.

 

“Do you accept Lord Grantham’s challenge, Simon?”

 

For a moment I said nothing, my mind clicking and whirring with random thoughts. I had no idea how to fight with a knife. I certainly didn’t want to fight with a knife, but… Lord Grantham was two and a half times my age and certainly didn’t know how to fight with a knife either. I was scared, but then so was he. I stood up. “Yes. Yes, I do, Sir.” Possibly making the biggest mistake of my life, I stepped forward and selected one of the blades at random.

 

“You can’t be serious, Magnus,” said Lord Jeremy. I hoped he had no idea I was trembling like a leaf inside. “What are you playing at?”

 

“I’m not playing at anything, Lord Jeremy. You require satisfaction. This house and grounds is Gor. Do you think that this…” he waved his arm, "all of this, is some sort of decadent country club, hmm? Were you not paying attention that day we first approached you?”

 

“Now look here Magnus!” Lord Jeremy took a couple of steps back as Magnus advanced upon him. “I’m friends with the Home Secretary! I’m having dinner with her on Tuesday!”

 

“So you keep saying. Perhaps I can put you in touch with someone right now.” Magnus produced his mobile phone and dialled a number from his address book. The phone rang for a good twenty seconds before it was answered.

 

“David,” said Magnus, with all the charm of a snake. “Thank you for taking my call at this hour. Yes, it is very early. I’m sorry for waking you and Samantha. No, please don’t panic. Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s just, I have Lord Jeremy Grantham in my house tonight. He’s rather annoyed with me, it seems. Perhaps he could have a word with you?”

 

Magnus held the phone towards Lord Jeremy. “What’s this, Magnus?”

 

“For you,” he said.

 

I watched as Lord Jeremy took the phone and, with a degree of uncertainty, put it to his ear. “Hello? Who is this?” His eyes widened in surprise. “Prime Minister!” he glanced in shock at Magnus, who simply stood there looking patient and calm. “Yes, um. Well, the thing is… oh. But…” Lord Jeremy lowered the phone. “He… he hung up.”

 

“He didn’t say anything?” enquired Magnus.

 

“Just… ‘go home. Don’t make a fuss.’” Lord Jeremy didn’t look quite so confident anymore.

 

“Go home,” said Magnus as he repeated the words carefully. “And don’t make a fuss. Sound advice, I suppose. Though… it’s a little late for that, isn’t it, Lord Jeremy?”

 

“I… perhaps I should go home now.” The man placed the phone on a small side table as if it was a red hot coal. “It’s been a long night. God knows I’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately, rather,” he said with a forced laugh. “Splendid night really. Judy was… really quite lovely.”

 

Magnus stood there, just staring at the middle aged man with the pot belly.

 

“Look, I suppose you had your reasons for chaining Penelope. Was she out of order?” He glanced at me and saw me holding the first of the knives. I tried to summon up my inner Clint Eastwood as I gazed back at him. “I’ve told her many times what’s expected of her as a Free Woman! Silly bitch. Getting herself into trouble.” There was that nervous laugh again. “What do you think I should do, Magnus? Give her a sound spanking when I get her back home? I can do that.”

 

“Pick up your knife, Lord Jeremy.”

 

“Now look here, Magnus, point taken. I stepped out of line. Fair play. Won’t happen again.”

 

“Pick up your knife, Lord Jeremy.”

 

“Please… Magnus… I can’t.”

 

Magnus nodded. “I will have a car waiting for you at the front of the house in a few minutes. It will take you to Waterloo train station where you can board the next Eurostar to France. You ca have breakfast in Paris in just a few hours. I don’t really care what you do after that, or where you decide to live, but if you ever set foot in Britain again, you will wake up in an old warehouse close to Dover. There you will find yourself naked and chained to a steel backed chair and you will take at least forty-eight hours to die.”

 

“Magnus… please!”

 

“Goodbye, Lord Jeremy Grantham.”

 

The guard took hold of his upper arm and force marched him out of the room. 

 

No one spoke until Lord Jeremy was long gone.

 

“Nicely handled,” said Frick as he poured two fresh tumblers of whisky. 

 

Magnus nodded in acknowledgment, and then turned to me. “Were you afraid, Simon?” 

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“I’ll say this just the once – don’t ever lie to me.”

 

I nodded. “I was afraid, Sir. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry. Men in shield walls are afraid, too. Any man who tells you otherwise is a liar. Bravery is not acting without fear, bravery is overcoming your fear. A brave man is a man who does not permit fear to control his head.”

 

“What he said, boy,” said Frick. “You’re not a warrior. We don’t expect that much of you. But you’re a man, and you acted as a man should.”

 

I think they were complimenting me, but my head was still spinning from what I’d just witnessed. Then I became aware of a lovely sound – the soft slither of steel chain against the mosaic tiles as a collared woman shifted her position.

 

“Karl?” her voice was soft. There was no longer any trace of brash authority in it. “Is my service done? Please?” Miss Madison’s hand touched the chain hanging from her collar ring. “I would like this chain removed, please.”

 

Magnus didn’t say anything.

 

“I have served wine,” she continued. “Perhaps I could return to the alcove and get dressed?”

 

“I didn’t chain you,” said Magnus.

 

“No, of course not.” She moved, placing one hand – her left – against the tiled floor. She was kneeling on her side, no longer in nadu. “Simon did.”

 

“Then perhaps you should ask Simon to release you? It would be rude of me to remove another man’s chain.”

 

“Oh.” Again she touched her collar. I could tell she didn’t want to ask me to free her. But what choice did she have? “Simon… could you please unlock this collar and chain?”

 

“I would like some more wine,” I said. The level of the wine was now at the point of the first ring on the outer surface of the goblet. I crossed my legs where I sat and placed the goblet on the small table.

 

“It seems your service is not yet complete,” remarked Magnus.

 

I could see Miss Madison bristle at that suggestion. “Very well. I shall refill his cup.”

 

She crawled a couple of steps to the small round side table where the bottle rested, with the steel chain trailing her. She took the goblet and poured more wine until the level was once again at the point of the second ring. Frick’s eyes narrowed as a small drop of wine fell from the bottle mouth to touch the table. I don’t think Miss Madison noticed. Her hand had been shaking, I think. Serving a man, on her knees, wearing a steel collar, seemed to make her nervous.

 

“Your wine, Master,” she said. She had once again pressed the cup to just below the line of a brassiere, and then she had softly kissed the rim, before extending it once more to me, on her knees, arms outstretched, with her head and hair dipped low between those outstretched arms.

 

“I enjoyed the more personalised phrases you used earlier, Emily. You will use such phrases in future. Offer one now.”

 

Her body trembled.

 

Her voice sounded a little broken as she said, “A slave called Emily offers her Master wine. A girl called Emily is his to use, if it pleases him.”

 

I took the goblet and watched as she raised her head and lowered her arms to her side.

 

“Nadu,” I said. She blushed and moved back into her earlier position which I now assumed was called nadu. She parted her thighs, straightened her back, and placed the palms of her hands on her thighs.

 

“She is stiff, clumsy. She doesn’t feel her slave belly,” pronounced Frick.

 

“She’s a Free Woman,” said Magnus. “What more do you expect?”

 

I sipped the wine. It was really good, but then I wouldn’t have expected Magnus to have cheap wine in the house. 

 

“That reminds me - what about Lady Penelope?” asked Frick.

“What about her?” said Magnus as he picked up his glass. “She’s a Free Woman, too.”

 

“You’ll just let her go?” Frick seemed disappointed. 

 

“She’s not responsible for the poor showing of her Free Companion.”

 

“I suppose.” Frick clinked his whisky glass against that of Magnus. “She disgraced herself though?”

 

“She caused a scene, yes. But nothing that would earn her a collar on Gor.”

 

“Hmm.” I could see that Frick continued to look disappointed. “If this was Pittsburgh…”

 

“And I keep reminding you, Willard, this isn’t Pittsburgh. You seem to have forgotten that Free Women can expect protection within the authority of their Home Stone.”

 

“We have less problems with our Free Women in the first place, as you well know. We ensure they remain demure Free Women.”

 

“Yes, I do know, and you know I do not approve. But Pittsburgh is North America, and the North American families set the rules there.”

 

What were they talking about? This was getting more and more surreal. I was no longer quite so certain that this was an elaborate Eyes Wide Shut game after all. 

 

“I’m curious, Mr Frick, how do you do things in Pittsburgh?”

 

“An enquiring mind.” He nodded. “The boy wants to know.”

 

Magnus turned away. He gazed at the far wall. Something about this didn’t meet with his approval. I wasn’t sure now that I should have asked that question.

 

“Karl is referring to my Free Companion.”

 

“You have family, Sir?”

 

“I do.” He beamed. “A beautiful daughter, through my first Free Companion. My daughter’s name is Chelsea Savannah Frick.” He produced a photograph of a pretty girl, possibly nineteen years old and resident at some American college. She wore glasses and a modest over the knee skirt and brown jacket over a white blouse and was posing ironically for the camera in a mock curtsey of some kind. She looked like a proper, well brought up young lady. 

 

“She’s a pretty girl, Sir.”

 

“Yes. And bright. And modestly dressed, unlike some of her so-called friends. Loyal to her family, too. We had some issues with one of her friends who took liberties recently – a girl called Fleur – always thought she was a bad influence anyway - but Chelsea did the sensible thing and let me sort it for her. She’s a good girl. Told me everything I needed to know.” He smiled to himself. “I certainly sorted the Fleur problem, yes I did.”

 

He didn’t go on to give any details. I wondered who this girl Fleur was, and what she had done to annoy Mr Frick’s daughter?

 

“You’re separated from her mother?”

 

“Afraid so.” Frick gazed at the photo of his daughter with pride for a moment before returning it to his wallet. “Janelle disgraced herself when Chelsea was just three years old.”

“Oh?” I was aware that Magnus wasn’t showing signs of listening, though no doubt he was listening.

 

“Turns out Janelle had needs that were inappropriate for a Free Woman. Needs I wasn’t aware of when I permitted her to be the mother of my child. I caught her playing with herself when she didn’t know I was in the house.”

 

Masturbating? Hardly a crime. But then I looked into Frick’s eyes and realised this man felt very differently about the matter. Had he divorced Janelle because of that?

 

“My Free Companion.” Frick seemed angry. “The mother of my beautiful daughter. Lying on our bed in broad daylight, her legs apart, her pretty summer frock scrunched up past her thighs, and her sticky fingers…” He growled. “Well, that was the end of our companionship, obviously.”

 

I nodded, though I felt this was a rather extreme reaction. 

 

“You have a new companion since?’

 

“Yes,” he beamed warmly. “Ashlyn and I have been together for nearly fourteen years.” He produced another photo of a beautiful blonde woman in a pink patterned 1950s dress that flared out dramatically, presumably with the help of a wide crinoline petticoat worn beneath it. 

 

“A lovely companion, Sir. She looks very happy indeed.”

 

“Thank you. She is very happy. She has everything a Free Woman could reasonably want for. She bakes wonderful cakes. If you’re ever in Montana and care to visit, Ashlyn will be fussing all around you, making sure you leave with a full stomach and probably a cherry pie for your journey. Lovely girl. Of course, when we first met at a society ball, I was determined not to make the same mistake twice. I was now an important man in North America. The North American families look to me for leadership. The Fricks have served the Steel Worlds for generations. There could be no question of my good name being disgraced by a Free Companion who might have slave needs. Some Free Women do, you know. Oh, they appear demure and respectable, but deep down they are in truth natural slaves. Imagine finding that out after the ceremony?”

 

“This is perhaps a bit soon for Simon, Willard.” Magnus still had his back turned. “He probably doesn’t want the details.”

 

“Rubbish. The boy is made of strong stuff. No point handling him with kid gloves. He shows spunk.”

 

“If you’d rather not say, Sir…”

 

“Happy to tell you. You’ve heard of New Feminism?”

 

I nodded. It was an American thing. Back to basics for women – all those 1950s values and fashions. Wives in the kitchen in A-line dresses baking cookies for the kids and welcoming their man home after work with a smile and a dry martini ready mixed for him beside his armchair. 

 

“Ashlyn was a New Feminism girl from a good family. Just the sort of girl I needed to meet. Clean, healthy, always interested in what a man has to say. Certainly a good step mother for Chelsea. Daughter of the Davenports, in fact. The senior families in North America take reasonable measures to ensure their Free Companions don’t disgrace themselves in public or in private, of course. Certainly not the way some of the Free Women in this country have done.” He gazed down at Miss Madison, who slid back a few inches with a lovely sound of loose chain. 

 

“Measures, Sir?”

 

“It’s a simple operation,” remarked Frick. “Quick, with a minimum of fuss.”

 

“Operation?” For some reason a chill ran down my spine, even before he said what he then said.

 

“Still quite common in certain parts of Africa, Asia and the Middle East, though their surgical techniques leave much to be desired. Not like our modern hospitals. It was even practised in the enlightened time of 19^thcentury Europe and the United States to treat insanity or unhealthy masturbation amongst certain women. The co-founder of St. Marty’s Hospital wrote in the Lancet that masturbation in women or ‘unnatural irritation’ of the clitoris caused hysteria, spinal irritation, fits, idiocy, mania and led to early death. While that type of thinking is a little extreme, it’s true to say that female masturbation does lead to slave-like feelings in Free Women. That in turn can lead to disgraceful behaviour in public. The procedure is conducted under full anaesthetic, and is perfectly clean and safe. The surgeon first removes the woman’s clitoral hood, clitoral glans, inner and outer labia - removing most sources of  stimulation - and this is followed by a clean surgical closure of the vulva with stitches. The technique is called infibulation. A small hole is left for the passage of urine and menstrual fluid – two to three millimetres wide. The vagina can easily be opened again for intercourse, should it be required, though my kennel slaves keep me content on that score. I can now rest easy in the knowledge that Ashlyn will never disgrace herself the way Janelle did. She’s far happier without the risk of any inappropriate needs surfacing, and she can concentrate on being a good companion to me and step-mother to Chelsea.”

 

I felt like I had just had a bucket of cold water thrown in my face. Magnus turned round and regarded my expression without saying anything.

 

“Ashlyn… Ashlyn wanted this, Sir?”

 

“Well, boy, the truth is women often don’t know what’s best for them. They look to their men to make these important decisions for them.” 

 

For one brief moment I thought this was all some sick joke. But then I saw the way Frick looked and I knew to my horror it wasn’t. He had paid a surgeon to mutilate his wife. 

 

I had thought this was all some kinky game that maybe I might have taken a step too far. But these men… these men were monsters.