tears. There was no way out. What form would her "redemption"
take? She lay, quietly sobbing, staring into the pitch black emptiness
that engulfed her.
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CHAPTER XVIII
THE MANIPULATOR
Lily slept fitfully in the cold, dark hours before sunrise, finally
waking to the dim grey light of a late December dawn. She was so
cold she could hardly move, her body stiff and aching.
I'll catch my death of cold and perhaps that would be a good thing.
The paltry light seemed to come from somewhere above. Painfully
turning her head, Lily tried to look upwards. She lay on a large bale
of cloth, not a mattress, in a small empty room with blank walls, a
single door and a narrow, barred slit of a window, high on the wall
above her. The smell of the room reminded her of the many weaving
mills and clothing factories in Spitalfields. She was very thirsty and
her hands and feet were swollen and quite numb, the harsh rope
cutting into her tender flesh.
"Help me! Please, somebody help me!"
Her cries sounded pathetic in the stillness of the room. Her voice
cracked with exhaustion and emotion and further tears rolled down
her cheeks. Stumping footsteps sounded outside the door and she
caught her breath and listened intently. A key turned in the lock and
the door swung open.
"Good morning, sweet little missy. Brought you some breakfast."
Lily looked up at Poole, the hideous man who had abducted her in
the night. He banged down a tray with a plate of bread and butter and
a mug of tea on the bare floorboards then crouched down to undo her
bonds. The relief was almost unbearable but it took Lily some
moments to be able to move her limbs at all. They were locked with
the twin effects of chilling and immobility. She looked at her swollen
purple fingers and reached for the hot tea.
"I'm cold."
Poole grinned.
"I daresay, little miss. It'll be warmer where you're going when
you've had your vittles. Much warmer."
He began to laugh, a mocking sound that made Lily long to throw
the scalding tea in his grotesquely twisted face. She knew she had to
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remain calm, to look for any opportunity to escape. Slowly, she
raised the tin mug to her parched lips, feeling the steam from the tea
bathing her face. It tasted sweet and good. Her entire body was
painfully rigid, as if her bones were old iron that had rusted together at
the joints. She watched Poole leave the room and heard the key turn
in the lock. What next?
* * * *
Her abductor had been correct – it was warm. Very warm indeed.
Poole had carried her down the spiral staircase to another much larger
room, one that contained a glowing furnace. Instinctively Lily
stretched out her hands to warm them before the fierce heat.
"Don't get too comfortable, little miss."
Poole was behind her, his powerful arms clasping her in an iron
grip.
"Stop it! Leave me alone!"
"I have orders from the master. He thinks it's time you were taught
a little lesson."
Lily kicked and struggled but she was no match for the brawny
manservant. Suddenly, she noticed a peculiar looking machine in one
corner of the room. She had never seen anything like it. It resembled
a steel cage containing a sort of little padded swing seat, a mass of
intricate cogs and wheels and a long rod with an ivory shaft at its tip.
Now that looks like one of those expensive dildos Charlie Dunn-
Keith gave to Sophie.
Before she knew it, Poole had manhandled her into the cage and
thrust her into the narrow seat of the machine. Swiftly and brutally he
locked her wrists into manacles above her head.
"Now, my lovely! Let's get that nightgown off."
Lily gasped as Poole drew a cutthroat razor from his waistcoat
pocket. Obviously enjoying himself immensely, he flicked it open
and began to cut through the hem of Lily's nightgown.
"So easy to slit a maiden's throat, master tells me. Like a knife
through soft sweet butter."
Terror rose in Lily like a black tide. She thought of the murdered
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Snake Pit had talked about it, filled with fear. Her mind made
frightful connections as Poole slit on, neatly ripping the fine cotton
from hem to neck as coolly unconcerned as if he were filleting a fish.
"That's better! Now we can see your pretty belly and tits."
Lily was too horrified to move. Helplessly, she watched as Poole
lifted her legs, one by one, carefully slotting them into two steel
holders, reminiscent of the braces worn by cripples. She was trapped,
totally unable to move. Grinning maniacally, Poole pushed a lever
and the entire contraption began to vibrate, the cogs and wheels
slowly grinding into action.
"Oh no!"
"Oh yes, little missy. Meet The Manipulator. It's a fucking
machine, guaranteed to teach obedience. Even a trollop like you will
have a sore cunny by the time it's done."
Poole laughed and moved towards the furnace. Lily watched him
open the door and shovel some coal onto the blaze within. She cried
out in alarm as her legs were suddenly moved upwards and outwards,
exposing her naked pussy to the long ivory shaft that shot forward and
pierced her so deep and hard that she felt as if she were being
skewered.
"Mercy!"
Poole grunted as he shoveled more coal into the furnace.
"No mercy, little miss. You made your bed and you can lie in it."
Again and again the mechanical dildo cruelly entered Lily's body.
It was too harsh to be arousing and she felt herself becoming sore
after a few strokes. The machine whirred and squeaked horribly.
Worse, it seemed that the higher the fire in the furnace burned, the
harder and faster the rod pumped, piston-like into Lily's body. Poole
dropped the shovel and came to observe his captive's desperate plight.
"You'll never want to be fucked again, little slut. You'll want to
join a convent instead."
Oh God, you may be right!
Lily's pussy burned with the friction from the un-lubricated dildo.
"This machine could even shaft you to death."
I don't doubt it.
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The speed of the thrusting rod increased to a fierce pace,
mercilessly pounding into the helpless young woman's body like the
piston of a steam locomotive. The blazing furnace began to fill the
room with intense heat. Finally screaming out in fear and pain, Lily
lost consciousness again.
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CHAPTER XIX
A PROPOSAL
When Lily regained consciousness she found that she was lying on
a chaise lounge in a smart-looking parlor.
Where am I now, for God's sake? This doesn't look as if it could be
part of that factory place.
An ornate clock on the mantelpiece indicated that the time was ten
past three in the afternoon. Where had the day gone? Had they
drugged her? Heavy brocade curtains we
re drawn across the three
sides of a bay window allowing just a slit of grey winter light to enter
the room. A lamp burned on a side table and a fire leapt in the grate.
Lily's head ached and she was vaguely aware of an odd sweetish
smell. They had drugged her. Warily she tried to sit up, afraid that
she would find that her limbs had been bound again but she was quite
free to move. Looking down at herself, she realized she was dressed
in a plain white linen shift, almost like a shroud. A few tiny spots of
blood marred the pristine surface of the cloth. Her insides felt raw
and swollen.
I hate you, you hypocritical bastard.
As Lily looked around the room, she noticed that there were
various items of religious significance – a large crucifix hung in an
alcove, several small statuettes of the Virgin Mary and a bookcase
filled with Old and New Testaments and a wide selection of volumes
on biblical themes.
Am I damned for choosing the pleasures of the flesh? I don't think
so. I think God is much more forgiving than some of his followers.
Lily tiptoed over to the window and peered through the gap in the
curtains. A small front garden was visible, containing nothing but the
barren twigs of dormant rose bushes and a gravel path leading to a
wrought-iron gate set into a tall privet hedge. The house was silent
but for the crackle of flames in the grate and the soft ticking of the
clock on the mantel.
Could I escape?
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Lily moved towards the door of the parlor and tentatively reached
out to touch the handle.
"I don't think that's a good idea, little one."
Oh, Jesus!
Lily almost jumped out of her skin with shock. The American sat
in a shadowy corner of the room, almost concealed by in the leathery
recesses of a high-backed wing chair. Lily backed away from the
door, suddenly suffused with fury and hate.
"Why are you doing this? You're mad!"
"Am I? Is it insanity to desire purity in my life? Why, you look
much more respectable in that simple gown, my dear. It has no
ribbons, bows, lace or flounces. It is entirely plain. I like that. It has
honesty and integrity. Already you seem purified."
Lily was speechless. She gazed down at the expanse of bleached
linen that made her feel like a corpse or perhaps an inmate of some
dreadful institution where all frivolity and individuality were
ruthlessly denied.
"I hate it. It's as if I don't exist any more. As if I've been erased."
The American smiled condescendingly.
"You don't understand, Miss Lily. But you will in time. A few
more sessions with The Manipulator and you will never again take the
slightest interest in committing a mortal sin. I plan to take you as my
wife. A vast undertaking but one I know will be profoundly
rewarding for both of us."
Lily stared at the man in utter horror.
"Your wife! But why? You think I'm a whore, a 'demonic
daughter'. Why should you want to marry me?"
The American rose from the depths of the chair and Lily backed
away from him until she felt the chill of the marble fireplace against
her spine.
"I want to save your soul, Miss Lily. Even your name speaks of
purity. Why should the lily be gilded when she is lovely in her
simplicity? When I first encountered you at that wretched
whorehouse, I thought you were just like all the others, empty-
hearted, hardened sluts. But you didn't want me to defile your body.
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You clenched tight in refusal. I liked that. Denial. The Lord was
speaking to you then, Lily, telling you to preserve your body from
such temptations..."
"Oh, you pompous fool! I was bloody terrified! You were choking
me. I thought you were going to kill me."
The American frowned.
"Choking you? No, I was simply trying to drive the demons from
your God-desiring body. Sweet Lily, I love you. I would never hurt
you except for your own good. Don't you see that?"
The marble fire surround felt like a tomb, its deep chill penetrating
the shroud-like gown. The American bent down and kissed Lily on
the mouth, his lips hot and dry as if he were running a fever. Unable
to bear it, Lily bit his mouth as hard as she could and thrust him away
from her with all the strength she could muster.
"Demons!"
"Get away from me!"
Desperately, Lily threw herself at the parlor door and grasped the
handle. The American was at her back, clawing at her hair, and she
screamed as she tore herself free, leaving long strands of hair in his
frantic grip.
"No!"
Somehow she reached the hallway and began to fumble with the
heavy front door. Again her captor made to take her by the hair and
she lashed out, kicking at his groin with the fierce energy of utter
terror. There was an umbrella in a stand by the door and Lily
whipped it out of its container and used it as a weapon, repeatedly
beating the man over the head with it.
"Let me go!"
At last the door opened and she ran out into the cold December
afternoon, screaming at the top of her lungs. The gravel path
crunched beneath her bare feet and the latch of the iron gate felt chill
and damp beneath her clutching fingers. She heard the American's
sneering voice taunting her from the doorway.
"Why, you'll be caught and locked up, my dear one. Just look at
yourself."
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I must get away!
Lily pushed open the gate and almost fell out into the street beyond.
Which way to run? It didn't really matter so long as she escaped the
clutches of her captor. She didn't recognize the street at all, a genteel,
residential road of tall detached houses. There seemed to be no one
around to witness her plight. Should she knock at the door of one of
the other houses or was he right – would they simply believe she was
insane? Lily slowed to a fast walk, repeatedly glancing over her
shoulder. He didn't appear to be following her. She reached the
corner of the street and scanned the skyline for familiar landmarks.
Ah, St. Paul's!
The vast dome of the great cathedral rose up against the dull grey
sky. Everyone she cared about lived within a short distance of St.
Paul's. Sweet Rosina. Dear Sophie.
I must see my darling Sophie again.
Thoughts of the kind-hearted blonde brought further tears to Lily's
eyes and she began to run again, her arms folded protectively against
her chest to partly conceal the odd shift she was wearing. Did the
insane really wear such a garment? Could she be picked up on the
street and carted off to some dreadful Bedlam? She had to find a
shawl or cloak, perhaps pretend to be a poor beggar woman.
The dark December day was dimming quickly and a wispy yet
insidious fog had begun to creep, miasma-like, from the great stinking
river Thames. A shiver ran down Lily's spine. The fog could conceal
her from predators but also shroud her captors should they decide to
come after her.
Guide my way, dear St. Paul!
Already, the huge dome of the cathedral was losing its definition,
becoming softened like a watercolor in the fading light. The
residential area swiftly gave way to a more familiar-looking street
with shops and public houses. Lily bowed her head and shuffled
along, the very image of some poor impoverished shoeless creature.
As she passed The White Hart two young men stumbled out, full to
the brim with drink, and jeered as she crept past.
"Daft cow! Where's your boots then?"
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One of them stepped in front of Lily and tried to block her way.
"Please let me past!"
"Look, John, she's quite pretty."
The other drunk lurched forward and grasped a handful of Lily's
mass of tousled hair.
"Show us your face."
Lily tried to turn her head away.
"Leave me alone!"
"Now, lads!"
The publican's voice boomed out from the doorway and the young
men drew back, swaying and laughing. Lily dodged past them and
continued her flight into the ever-darkening day. A filthy old shawl
lay discarded in the entrance to an alley and she snatched it up,
shuddering with disgust as she wrapped its damp and dirty folds
around her body. Now she really looked the part of a pauper and the
strange cotton shift was far less noticeable.
The gas lamps were being lit, jaundiced pools of yellow/grey in the
thickening fog. The dome of St Paul's had all but vanished but Lily
knew where it was. On she ran through the choking dirty mist.
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CHAPTER XX
AT ST PAUL'S
Again and again Lily wondered if she heard soft footsteps
following her but she could not be sure. The fog had turned the entire
world topsy-turvy. Shop windows glowing with pretty trinkets left
over from Christmas resembled luminous Aladdin's caves in the
murky evening. The crowds pushed on, faceless as walking corpses.
Once a hand reached out to grasp Lily's arm and her heart lurched
until she turned and saw it was a blind girl begging on a corner.
"Spare a penny for a poor blind girl, miss!"