The Castle
The small private jet landed and taxied for a few minutes. Emma, who had never felt so alone in her whole life, walked down the steps and saw that there was a large Mercedes waiting for her.
To Emma's surprise, the car didn't leave the airport, but stopped at a large hangar and she was helped out and stood, shivering slightly in cool air of the early morning.
The driver, giving Emma the ages-old up then down again look, told her to please wait a few minutes. He tried to start a conversation but Emma put up the hood of her robe and looked at the ground, folding her arms in front of her.
After some long minutes, Emma heard a helicopter approaching. 'Zis ees for you, my lady' said the chauffeur and with some nervousness, she walked, head bowed to the open door.
The helicopter had eight seats, all of which were empty and Emma sat nearest the door that she had entered through, looking down at forests and ravines. She fantasised about crashing down there and walking her way back to civilisation, avoid the terrifying ordeal that she was sure was waiting for her at the castle.
The helicopter climbed still higher and Emma saw a fairytale castle perched on top of a stone promontory. There was an enormous terrace with an 'H' painted on it and this was where they landed.
Emma waited until the rotors had stopped turning and almost jumped out of her skin in fright as the door was yanked open.
A man in a long brown robe, which looked like the one that Emma was wearing, was standing in front of her. 'Lady Stornoway?' Emma nodded.
'Please follow me. I am not permitted to climb the steps to the front door, but you must do this and knock three times.'
Emma, trembling so much that she feared her legs would give way from under her, followed the man.
They passed through an ornamental gate. Emma saw several majestic, wide stone steps leading up to an enormous wooden door.
Holding onto the stone balustrade, as her legs were now very weak, Emma mounted the steps and stood in front of the door. There was a wrought-iron knocker, with a lion's head and closing her eyes and offering a quick prayer to every martyred virgin, Emma knocked three times.
A young woman opened the door. She was dressed in the uniform that Emma had read about in 'The Story of O', long, full skirt, tight corset-like bodice, a transparent fabric showing her bare breasts and high-heeled clogs. To Emma's horror, she realised that she knew this girl from school. She had been in the year above and she had left before her A level exams. 'A-aren't y-you Francesca?'
Emma stammered, as a result of the cold mountain air and enormous fear.
'Come in Emma, we've been waiting for you!'
Emma walked through the door and into a dark hallway.
'Are you naked under your robe?' asked Francesca.
'Yes, I am, and I'm freezing' said Emma.
'Follow me' ordered Francesca and she walked off, with Emma trailing behind, along long stone-flagged corridors, past closed, dark wooden doors and up some stairs, finally halting in front of a double door.
'This is the refectory and we take our meals in silence. Eat something and stay quiet and afterwards, we'll go and bathe you and dress you.'
Emma sat at the end of a long table. There were about thirty young women and ten young men eating quietly. Some of the girls wore the long hooded robes, but most were wearing the classic serving-wench style of corset and skirt. Emma noticed that several had painted nipples and lips, just as described in 'that book' as she had started to call it.
Emma had imagined what would come next and she was correct. She was taken to what resembled a beauty salon, re-waxed, hair washed and blow-dried, nails manicured, painted with a clear, slightly pink varnish. She was given an enema, lubricated and then left alone, naked for a few minutes.
She had the feeling that someone was watching her, but again, she expected this. It provided her with an odd, small germ of courage and intent.
