Ballo in Maschera

'You see, my pretty little one, we have our ways of teaching you the discipline that you master has, regrettably only begun to instill in you.'

Maria knelt, knees apart, hands on her thighs. After Pulcinello had returned to her last night, she had been freed of her bonds and her mask, and allowed to bathe and eat. She had been collared and given a hooded robe, similar to that she had worn when she arrived, and had been kennelled for the night. The kennel had not been uncomfortable. Long enough to lie in, and high enough to stand; it was floor with leather, and there were blankets enough to stay warm and comfortable. The door was low enough that she could only enter or exit on hands and knees, the reason for which she had guessed at, but only fully realised when she had been leashed like a dog on all fours as she was allowed out in the morning. Pulcinello had then pulled back the hood on her robe and pulled a mask of soft leather, close fitting like the rubber mask, and lacing at the back to hold it snug. Again her hair had been gathered and pulled into a ponytail through a loop at the back. She had been pulled, roughly to her feet by the leash, and led to a pannelled room in the pallazo. There she knelt in front of a raised dias on which a chair stood.

She recognised the voice of Il Dottore, though he had discarded the full mask for a smaller and lighter one of black velvet that covered the upper part of his face.

'You have heard of the three degrees of torture?'

She shook her head. Somehow, the words seemed to stick in her mouth, and her lips moved noiselessly.

'It described the practice of the Inquisition in the sixteenth century. No matter, we have refined it. The first degree was to tell someone what ordeal they faced. The second was to have them watch it done to another. The third degree, if it was necessary, was then to carry it out.'

She nodded, swallowing hard. Still the words would not come and she licked her lips anxiously.

'You have experienced the first two degrees. We know that the mind conjures greater fears than the body can experience. When you arrived you were bound and blindfolded?'

She nodded again, beginning to squirm; the gaze she was under was unwavering. The robe may as well have been of gauze for the protection it offered.

'You heard another new arrival cropped?'

A nod, and another nervous swallow. The memories brought back a knot of fear, anticipation and arousal.

'Master. I heard muffled cries of pain. I knew she was gagged as I was, and I waited to feel the crop myself. I had never been cropped before. The pain was electrifying, but the anticipation was terrible, knowing that there was nothing I could do in my helplessness.'

'Exactly. Our first degree is to let you experience the dread and the fear of knowing and not knowing. Our second is to allow to feel, momentarily, to taste for an instant the sensation. We may yet take you to your breaking point, but you must know that your punishments are to be feared. Your discipline will be based on rewards and punishment. You will experience further degrees of ordeal before you leave us.'

'May I ask a question, Master?'

'You may, though I might not answer.'

'My use last night, was that a further degree of my ordeal?'

'No. It was for our amusement. In the widest sense it was, as you will come to learn that your are our plaything, and that you will be use, mercilessly and brutally if we desire, but we simply wanted to use you for our pleasure.'

'Thank you, master.'

She was becoming aroused again. Surely this man could see that in her breathing, in the flush of her skin. Possibly even in the scent of her readiness for him. The mask felt hot and oppressive, but at least it hid the blush of her cheeks from his view.

'Do you remember Lucrezia, the first girl?'

'Master?'

'She has displeased me. She has forgotten her place as one of my slaves. I have decided that she should be punished. She is no longer first girl, and she will be punished every day for the next two weeks. I have allowed her to choose her own punishment. You will see how far I value perfect obedience in my women. Now go.'

He pointed to the door behind him. Maria stood, the leash depending from her collar. She curtseyed to him, as Pulcinello had told her. Walking to the door, she was met my Pulcinello. He took the leash and led her into the hallway.

'Cross your wrists!'

Her wrists were quickly and tightly bound with rope, the ends of which he took up and attached to the ring on her collar, fastening her helpless wrists at her throat. He took a large red ballgag and pushed it into her mouth, buckling it at either side of her mask. A leather blindfold followed, also buckled to the mask. He untied the robe and removed it before leading her out into the yard. He pushed her to her knees, directly in front of a thick wooden post, on top of which was an iron ring, surrounded by thick leather padding. The leash was tied through the iron ring, being knotted safely out of reach halfway down the post. Maria was held fast on her knees, her neck and bound hands against the padded post.

The blindfold was removed, and Maria found herself face to face with an identically bound and gagged woman. They faced each other, inches apart. Maria saw recognition dawn in the other's eyes, and saw the panic that followed. Lucrezia was facing humiliation before a private, but select audience. She squirmed in her bonds, uselessly twisting her wrists and whimpering incoherently behind the gag. Pulcinello laughed, and left the courtyard, leaving the bound slaves together.