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This time, she had far less time to wait. As soon as she appeared in the alley, a parked car pulled forward and the door to the passenger’s side opened. The driver leaned over the seat. “Laney Priestly?”
“Yes, I’m Laney Priestly.”
“Then get in. The Marquis would like to see you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Pillows, fluffy sweet-smelling pillows, and satin sheets with the scent of lilac clinging to their fibers, and coffee, a rich French roasted brew and a bathroom spa with gilded fixtures…
She wondered if the man was rich, or just a clever pauper with a carefully manipulated set to make women mad with lust, women foolish enough to fall for his line. By the look of it, the Marquis was rich and civil with a house that reeked of his good-breeding, kinky though that was.
As soon as she was escorted through the back door of the Prague house and up the stairs to her room, it seemed to close around her like a warm blanket. She had to smile, feeling in that moment, almost as safe and free from care as she would be if she were home. She’d not been left to bat around the Prague underworld forever, lost to the Marquis, or the life she knew. Her fears seemed to flee altogether as soon as she dipped her toe into the rose-scented bubbly water of the bath she’d drawn. She felt as if she were sliding into cream, although as soon as the soothing water hit her scorched and battered skin she immediately winced, reminded of the punishment, the scourges and whips and quirts and paddles that were used to cause her pain. The burning tightness in her flank where the tattoo had been etched into her flesh turned into a strange though subtle trigger for her physical arousal. She almost smiled, until she remembered whose tattoo that was. If she could have prevented it from happening she would have…but of course that had been impossible.
At least, she could finally see the mark Kafka left permanently imprinted on her skin. She expected initials, similar to the brand. There were letters, all right, but these were oddly aligned: an ‘M’ covered by an ‘X’ of the same size. Exactly what that meant, she could not be certain. Given that there was a war between the Marquis and Kafka she imagined that the ‘X’ was crossing out the ‘M’, simple as that. Kafka’s not so subtle message.
For three days, Laney rested in the wonderful, sweet-scented room, where she masturbated often in the heavenly bathtub to alleviate a constant ache in her groin that made her restless and weary. She slept for long hours, and spent the rest of her time reading paperback novels she found in a bookcase, and quietly contemplating her recent past, and her uncertain present and future. She was waited on by naked servant girls, most of whom didn’t speak a word to her. (She thought of them as girls, while they all looked to be in their mid-twenties or as old as she was. She was reminded of Jannie calling her girl—and now she understood how right that sounded). Several of the girls were actually gagged with ball-gags or bridled, making it impossible to converse with them. All of them were pierced in their genitals with a number of rings, none pierced exactly in the same way as the other girls. But the arrangements all looked like insignias of their servitude. Most wore bracelets like Laney’s bracelet, and most were branded in the same place on their left ass cheek where Laney’s EP brand and now the tattoo was emblazoned. They served her trays of food, removed them when she was done and cleaned the room. When they left her, they always carefully closed the door and locked it, making sure that she could not leave on her own.
Because she assumed, though she had no proof, that she was in the Marquis’ house, she didn’t fight her imprisonment. But after three days she was becoming restless and started to imagine herself overpowering one of the smaller servant girls so she could set off to find the Marquis on her own.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, Laney luxuriated in a warm bath for nearly an hour, when there was a sudden knock on the door. The unexpected sound lifted her from a pleasant reverie and returned her to the present…
“Come in,” she said.
The bathroom door creaked open and she watched as one of the servant girls moved inside. Like all the others, she was completely naked except for a collar and wrist cuffs, and on her left arm was a duplicate of the Marquis’ bracelet that Laney wore.
“I help you, Ma’am?” the woman deferentially bowed. Her accent was so thick that Laney could hardly understand what she was saying.
Laney stared at her a minute.
“Is there some reason I should be getting out now?”
She waited, but the woman didn’t answer.
“Well, I guess I should get out before I shrivel like a raisin,” and she smiled, as she pulled herself from the tub and allowed the woman to dry her with a pale yellow, terrycloth towel.
“Must dress, Ma’am,” the woman said. “Clothes. For you.” She pointed to the bed where, through the bathroom door, Laney could see what looked like a skirt and blouse laid out on the bed. Until now, she’d been dressing in the robes and shifts that were hanging in the closet, since no other clothes had been provided.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
The woman backed out of the room as if she were a Medieval serf and Laney were landed royalty.
The pink satin blouse and burgundy skirt she found on the bed looked exactly like something Laney might have worn for Erik. They felt like her own clothes. She buttoned the tiny pearl buttons as she looked in the mirror, thinking for a moment that she was getting ready to go to court. She brushed out her hair and applied the make-up she found in the bathroom, finishing off with a shade of lipstick that accentuated the color of her clothes. Although she felt almost relieved to finally be emerging from the mindless limbo of the last several days, she was so nervous, that she could hardly put on the four inch heels provided for her, and when she did, she could hardly stand up straight. Just as she was getting her bearings, she heard a knock on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” she called.
The same submissive female who had summoned her from the bath opened the door a crack and peeked in.
“He’s ready for you.”
She took a deep breath and for the first time in nearly four days she left the lovely sanctuary.
Following the saucy naked derriere of the female servant, Laney descended two flights of stairs while tightly gripping the handrail. They walked down a long, but wide corridor until they came to a room with an impressive hard wood door and a gold name plate, etched with the name “The Forum.”
The naked servant girl knocked twice, then without being prompted, she turned the knob and opened the door wide, revealing a room with a slick marble floor, paneled walls and a huge chandelier hanging in the center. Nearly two stories tall, the space felt as cold as a mausoleum and as formal as the grand parlor in a 17th century estate house. As if on stage waiting for their cue, a tableau of men dressed in dark suits were scattered around the room talking quietly amongst themselves. It was an eerie sight that immediately made Laney want to flee. As soon as she stepped inside, all eyes turned her way within seconds, with the exception of two men directly in front of her who continued to confer with their heads together as they whispered. One had his back to her, the other man was angled slightly toward her. As the two continued their conversation, the rest of the room waited in silence until they finished.
Suddenly, the gentleman with his back to Laney swept around and faced her while striding to the center of the marble floor.
“Come closer,” he ordered immediately. His voice was clear, steady and authoritative without being particularly loud.
