Teena: A House of Ill Repute (26 page)

'I'm sure there is,' I replied, smiling, 'but a portrait takes time to be painted, whereas this box of tricks does it in about two seconds and it's a real picture, not something someone's painted. And we can have lots of copies made too, all of the same thing.'

At this Erik suddenly looked very alert. 'Ah!' he exclaimed. 'Believing I am that I know what it is you plan, mistress.'

'Yeah,' I said, sure he had caught on. There was so much more to Erik than met the eye and he was still surprising me. 'It's called blackmail,' I said, 'and if this works, we'll be setting a trend that will continue for centuries to come, unfortunately.'

By now I had realised, as I'm sure you have too, that Anne-Marie's plan to get Andrea back in time with me hadn't worked out, because Indira was still most definitely Indira. As to why the plan had failed, I entertained my own ideas, but more of that later. In the meantime, the real Indira was turning out to be a great help, and with Erik's calm Scandinavian attitude and apparent natural instinct for management and organisation, we were turning into a formidable team. In addition, pieces of the plan were falling nicely into place and luck seemed to be favouring us, so the original strategy was almost refining itself as we went along. Paulie was a perfect example of this, and I discreetly obtained an address where he could be contacted directly, without having to use Archie as a go between.

Meanwhile, my various artisans - the shoemaker, dressmaker and the young carpenter - were completing the various projects and tasks I had assigned them. I just wished we had a usable cellar at the house, but shutters, heavy curtains and the application of a lot of black paint eventually turned what had been the large rear sitting room into an acceptable substitute. As a fallback position we also had the barn, which now that we had extra horses, Erik and the builder had given a bit of a facelift. Even with five horses stabled inside there was still plenty of room, and so I had two hoists installed and the main beam strengthened, just in case.

'If this doesn't all work out the way I intend,' I confided in Indira, 'then at least you and your mistress will have the basis of a profitable business here. Of course, I hope we'll get her fortune back for her eventually, but then who knows, she might want to continue with a profitable hobby?'

At this, Indira burst out laughing. 'When you are not here - not in her body, I mean - she talks to me of this,' she explained.

'And what does she tell you?'

'That she thinks you must have corrupted her mind, but that she is helpless to do anything about it.'

'That's funny - funny as in curious, I mean. I was wondering whether or not that was the case, or if perhaps it was the other way around.' I sighed heavily and lowered my eyes. 'Ever since all this started,' I continued quietly, 'I've been thinking I must have inherited some family trait from the past, which is the present here, of course, and that it was the Hacklebury genes to blame.'

'You seem sure you are descended from Miss Angelina,' Indira said.

I nodded. 'Pretty sure, yes.'

'And you think Hacklebury must have fathered a child with her?'

'Yes, of course, at least—'

'Well, it hasn't happened yet,' Indira stated. 'I can swear to that. Don't forget, I am with my mistress, or with you, very nearly all the time. I would know, and what I do know is that you are most definitely not carrying Hacklebury's child at this time, not unless one certain rule of nature has changed drastically.'

I pondered this statement, understanding exactly what she meant, and although this cheered me in one way, in another it did not bode well, for it indicated Hacklebury might not yet have finished where Angelina was concerned and that was a far from pleasant prospect.

The days passed by steadily, punctuated by further lessons for the three girls, making sure they remained 'match fit', and interspersed with other matters so routine as to be humdrum. It was about now I found I had enough time on my hands to sit back and consider properly what was happening here, and as the weekend approached for us to return to Chichester, for the first time I reflected on how truly unbelievable all this time tripping was. This time around I had been back here for nearly two weeks and yet, back in my own time, I was pretty damned sure I was exactly where Anne-Marie had left me only a matter of minutes before my last jump. At this rate I was going to end up effectively living through a couple of hundred years back in the past whilst living maybe seventy or eighty in my own time.

As events since have unfolded, this proved to be more than true, and that was before I came to realise my time in the past seemed to be adding credited time to my life expectancy in my present existence.

I opened my eyes and immediately realised I was back in nineteen seventy-five. It should not have come as a surprise by now. In fact, the actual time jumps did not, but what did catch me on the hop this time was the fact that I had been many days back in Angelina's body, with little of import apparently happening, and then suddenly, just twenty-four hours before we were due in Chichester, I reverted to being myself again. Or rather, I reverted to being the helpless doll Anne-Marie had left impaled upon Andrea's huge artificial cock with my arms bound about her as hers were bound about me, an unbreakable embrace of coitus Anne-Marie had been convinced would be the answer to the pair of us making the next jump in unison.

Wrong.

I knew why, but the frustrating thing was, I could not tell her, for apart from the fact that she had left us alone in Andrea's bedroom, she had replaced our dolly gag inserts, twisting them to engage the snap fitting securing them, so that we remained locked in silence, me filled to bursting by an outsized inanimate phallus and Andrea with her own equipment trapped and feeling nothing within its soft lining and rigid outer layer.

Not that this lack of sensitivity seemed to be stopping my rubber lover from making a good attempt, for as I came back to consciousness, I could feel her making good use of the little slack our bonds allowed, pumping steadily in and out of me. It was then I remembered the vibrating plug Anne-Marie had inserted into her just before leaving us. I groaned silently and made a note that when I was finally loose from this impossibly stupid and unproductive situation, Anne-Marie and I were going to have words - lots of them, and few of them overly subtle.

If there was a way to get Andrea back to help me as the plan moved towards its climax, it was not this, and from now on, whether Anne-Marie liked it or not, things were going to happen in this timeframe as they were happening in the earlier one,
my
way and my way only. Meanwhile, all I could do was sit there with my legs wide open and think of England, nineteenth century England, as it happened, not that it would have made any difference to twentieth century Teena's situation.

I stood in the centre of our now completed 'torture chamber' and nodded in satisfaction. The room was not large, not by the standards of the cellar dungeon complex in Chichester, but it would more than suffice, especially as we had moved one or two items of equipment into the corner bedroom, leaving only the X-shaped cross against the end wall, and a faithful copy of the Chichester whipping horse in the centre of the floor area, with one of the two bondage chairs pushed back into a corner, where it stood in shadow outside the circle of light cast by the four lanterns now hanging from the ceiling.

In contrast to the black walls and dark wood of our bizarre furnishings, Indira, who stood beside me, was a vision in pure white, having chosen this moment to unveil the results of her many hours of needlecraft. From head to toe she was dressed in dazzling kid leather, a close-fitting bodysuit that showed every single one of her ample curves, with a hood and mask completely disguising the colour of her skin. She had even added a fine horsehair ponytail to the top of her hood, bleaching that to match the leather. When the time came, Hacklebury would never make any connection between this exotic creature and the hapless Indian girl he had so brutally banished from Angelina's company.

'You look stunning!' I told her in genuine admiration, and wondered what Andrea would have thought of the outfit had she come back this time. I imagined her strutting around the room, poised and full of attitude on those high heels, swinging the coiled whip, itching to be able to put her new persona to good use. But then again, I marvelled, that was exactly what Indira was doing now. The change in the former serving maid's personality since the night of our escape was incredible. In many ways, she was now the dominant personality in the household. Even Erik seemed wary in her presence, even when she was wearing her normal dress or sari. In this mood, and looking more like a modern day superhero, she was truly terrifying.

'I am glad you like it,' she said, offering me a mock little bow and clicking her heels together in military style. 'I wish to use it to practice my techniques with the young man.' I knew she was referring to Paulie, who was due to arrive within the next two hours or so.

I nodded. 'He's all yours, if that's what you want. Will you want Erik with you?'

Behind the mask, Indira trilled a laugh and shook her head. 'No, indeed, that will not be necessary.'

'Fair enough, if you're sure.' I smiled at her. 'Would you mind if I sat in, as an observer, that is?'

She seemed to hesitate and there was a silence of several seconds. 'Would you agree to
sit in
, as you put it, on my conditions? I wish to discover if I have the ability to exercise control, and your presence in the room as the Contessa would not make it a fair trial.'

'I could get a screen in here and hide in the corner behind it,' I offered.

She made a negative gesture. 'No, that was not what I had in mind. A corner, yes, but in full view.'

'Then how...?' I began and stopped, my jaw dropping and my eyes flickering towards the bondage chair. 'Oh!' I exclaimed, momentarily at a loss for words. 'You mean...?'

She nodded. 'You will pretend to be one of the girls. You are smaller than any of them, of course, but I doubt whether young Paulie will remember much about the other evening. Well,' she corrected herself, 'he will remember plenty, but the height and bosom size of the female company will not be that clear in his silly mind.'

I turned away from Indira, considering the proposal, feeling my pulse rate quickening as I pictured the scenario. I walked over to the cross and fingered the heavy straps I knew would soon be holding Paulie ready for whatever Indira had in store for him, and answered without turning back.

The chair could have been the model for what was later to become the electric chair in America, but this particular one would be generating electricity of a totally different nature. As Indira led me into the room and paraded me once around the helpless naked figure already stretched over the horse, I struggled to remain calm, breathing with difficulty due to the corset she had laced so tightly about me and tottering on one of the highest heeled pairs of boots we had.

My arms were clad to the shoulders in soft kid gloves, my wrists bound together in front of me with a wide satin ribbon tied off in a huge bow. My legs, apart from the ankle boots, were sheathed in black silk stockings held up by black and red lace garters. Between the tops of the stockings and the lower hem of the corset I was naked and completely hairless. From behind the mask hood I peered out at the brooding scene, reflecting that we had indeed done a good job with the room as I looked across at Paulie, wondering what was going through his mind. If it was anything like my thoughts then he was not, I suspected, about to be disappointed.

Indira drew me around in front of him and pushed me forward, so that I was standing with my denuded crotch only inches from his head. She reached out, grabbed his hair and lifted his head so his face was raised and he was looking straight at my already moistening jewel. I knew his nostrils would now be full of my scent, for I could smell my own arousal even over the dull musk of my hood.

'This is a low slave bitch,' Indira said, and for a moment I wondered which of us she was actually speaking to, until she continued. 'However, boy, you are even lower, a vile little dog, and you will demonstrate your lowly status by worshipping this slave as if she were a goddess. You will kiss and lick her temple until I tell you to stop and
you
,' she added, addressing me now, 'will control your urges. If you weaken, you will be whipped and this creature will be permitted to put his filthy little snake rod inside you later.'

I was stunned. The change in Indira was more than external, obviously, but it appeared to have gone much deeper than even I had suspected, and she was revelling in this new dominant role as if she had been doing it all her adult life. The expression on Paulie's face was quite something to behold, a mixture of fear, adoration and lust, and I wondered what he would have looked like had he realised the anonymous slave girl standing before him was in fact the same creature who had begun his re-education in that Chichester cellar room.

'Open your legs, slut, and step forward!' Indira reinforced her order by slapping me across my bare rump with the short-coiled whip. I let out a sharp yelp, but instinctively obeyed. Immediately, Paulie's mouth was there to receive me and I felt the wet heat of his lips on mine, the rough tip of his tongue pressing between the soft folds of my flesh. I groaned, gritting my teeth, determined I was going to resist what was usually the inevitable, for I knew now Indira's threat had not been an idle one. If I lost control and climaxed she would most certainly have me over the horse after Paulie, and Paulie would have me, and that was a complication I didn't want.