In the Castle of the Hawks, some days later, Emma, clad in her 'Story of O' outfit, was polishing the large walnut dining table, when she noticed a small door in the corner of the room.
She quietly crossed over to the door and to her surprise, it opened and there was a staircase leading down -- but to where?
Later, when she was in her room -- her cell. She lay back on her bed and visualised her escape. Where would she go? What could she do? Could she manage it?
There was a quiet tap on the door and Adrian sidled in. He sat on the bed and smiled shyly. 'Hey, Emma. Long time, no see eh?'
Emma remembered his firm, yet gentle training. How he never bullied her, had led her around on her leash gently, without tugging in order to push her off balance, how he fucked her gently during anal preparation and how he'd confided in her, after being taken by 'The Monster'.
'I'm tired Adrian. My marriage was a disaster; I've been abandoned here by my husband, who used me as a lab rat.
They used me to help sell this horrible and addictive implant that turns me into a sexual android. I hate it. I want to leave or die. My whole life has been a sham. My parents never loved me or spent time with me. No one knows who I am - not even me!'
Adrian put his arms around Emma and whispered in her ear. 'Ssh, I know. I've spent more hours comforting girls like you than I've had hot men.'
Emma stopped sobbing and whispered back to Adrian. 'What? This has happened before?'
Adrian put his hands on her shoulders and solemnly nodded. He carried on whispering, telling Emma that the Order of Saint Ishmael was nothing more than a very, very exclusive and expensive brothel.
'Your husband, Sir James married you on the recommendation of the board. He suckered you into falling in love with him, but it was never going to work, as deep down, I think he hates women. I suspect that his parents were members as well. This organisation goes way up to royalty.
The schools, the money, the houses and the fake Order of St Ishmael set up is a shallow mind fuck for the very rich.
We are pawns for pornographers and I want to get out. Do you?'
Emma nodded. 'How?' she whispered. 'How do we escape?'
Adrian told Emma that there was another way in and out of the castle. It would be dangerous, but as long as they held their nerve, they could leave.
'Give me a few days to work on it, but you look for secret staircases and doors that no one seems to use. I know that there is another way in and out, but I've never had the courage to try it.'
Emma hugged Adrian tight and whispered 'I'm in. I'll do anything to get out.'
The Fates were not working for them. The next few days were a blur of demonstrations of the electrical subcutaneous implants the 'SubStim' and Emma was exhausted.
The implants were instruments of torture. Once activated, the reaction was instant and Emma was transformed from a self-possessed, cool young woman, into a moaning, begging sex addict. Emma was used, just as though she was a prostitute being pimped out to all-comers.
'I swear, that when I escape, I'll become a nun -- a Buddhist nun, with a shaven head and live in Thailand and never have or think about sex ever again!' Emma was in the shower, having sobbed for an hour on Adrian's shoulder.
'No, you won't. You'll be strong and just like this damn castle, impregnable. No one will enter and no one will ever use you again. Hold on to that thought, as we have a week's rest starting tomorrow.'
Emma slept well, despite her sore and bruised body. She was up early the next morning and using her house-keeping duties as a cover, she investigated the small door that she'd spotted in the grand dining room.
The stairs led down to a terrace, but one that wasn't used much by the look of it. The stone flags were dirty and had grass growing in the cracks. Emma carefully peered up, to see if any windows overlooked her, but there was none.
She looked over the parapet and closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks -- surely this couldn't be true?
Emma looked again, hardly daring to check, but she was correct.
There was a pathway leading down the mountain and at that moment, Emma believed in miracles. The path was overgrown and neglected. Oh, thank goodness, thought Emma, now, all I need are clothes and shoes and I'm out.
Adrian was less excited. 'We need to find our passports -- don't' worry, I can get them and we also need a large amount of cash. We either do this quickly or leave as soon as I've collected everything, or we do it slowly and just slip away, with no one to raise the alarm. I'd go for the second option, as there'll be fog later this week.'
Emma agreed and asked if she could help, but Adrian had it all worked out. 'We'll go over the wall on Thursday, at first light and that'll give us, I hope, two days to get right away.'
The next three days were extremely difficult. Emma was sure that someone would see her excitement, but there were only a few people at the Castle, all of whom were professional staff and all were engaged on a spring-cleaning exercise.
On Thursday, Adrian tapped at Emma's door -- released her from her restraints and handed her some chef's whites. 'All I could find, I'm afraid' he shrugged.
Emma put the clothes on and some slip-on rubber soled shoes and as the grey light grew brighter, they slipped out over the parapet and started down the crag.
One day, some ten years later, Emma looked up at the Castle and remembered the adrenaline-fed descent.
'I swear God kept me from falling' she'd later claim.
The old path was partly covered by brambles, which ripped through Emma's trousers. There was a handrail at one point, but it didn't look safe and Emma didn't want to risk falling.
There was a stone stair of sorts, which wound down the cliff face and as they reached the bottom, became less stable. Adrian almost slid off the footpath, with a terrifying gasp of fear.
Emma grabbed his arm and leaned back, pulling Adrian upright and they both took five minutes to rest and catch their breath.
An hour later, they reached a road, one which led up to the helipad, so Emma and Adrian kept a watch, hiding if they heard a car approaching.
At ten o clock -- 'exactly ten -- a sign if there ever was one!' said Adrian, they reached a small town. Far above them, the Castle was partly in the clouds and a thousand miles away.
Emma and Adrian walked into an outdoor clothing store and bought some hiking clothes, putting them on in the rest room of a nearby petrol station and they walked out looking exactly like all the other visitors, with waterproof jackets and hats and they bought rail tickets to the nearest city, which turned out to be Vienna.
At a universal hotel in the city, they sat and talked about what to do next.
'I'm going home,' said Adrian. 'I walked away from my life nearly five year ago and I haven't seen my parents in all that time. I'd been studying at Leeds University when Master Peter picked me up at a nightclub. He offered me a lot of money to come and explore my sexuality and I think I've gone about as far as I want to. I don't belong to anyone, not like you. I'm free to either stay hidden or go back. I think I'll keep quiet though. The Order has too many members in too many levels of society. I won't see you again, but I'll never forget you.'
Emma was tearful and full of fear. She'd never had a free and easy life, being at boarding school for so many years and under the strict discipline of the nuns. She thought for a while and decided to stay away from humanity for a while.
'I'm going to walk. I'll travel by rail and get back to the UK that way and then, I'm going to disappear. I'll buy a tent and a great rucksack and sleeping bag and I'll be off. I think it'll be safe. There are footpaths all over the UK and I'll keep walking until I feel safe. We have UK currency don't we?'
Adrian smiled and pulled Emma's head onto his shoulder.
'We do, Emma. I have £8000 in £10 notes and half is yours. It's new, so easier to hide and I wish you all the luck in the world.'
Emma and Adrian got back into the United Kingdom, passing through passport control without problems and she got on a bus, which took her to Liverpool and then on to Carlisle.
Emma stayed in a small travel hotel, buying a few clothes and having her long, glossy dark red haircut into a short, boyish style. She didn't look like herself and she liked that. The SubStims would have to stay for a while, but she knew that she'd have them removed as soon as possible.
Emma walked far, fear keeping her moving on. The isolation and peace was a little overwhelming. She had a strong fear reflex and found conversation difficult and pubs impossible.
She liked solitude, but missed music, so she bought an MP3 player and downloaded a lot of Bach. The logic and beauty of the music was a great comfort.
She discovered a Buddhist Convent, but she stayed for just a few weeks, not liking any discipline after all those years of school and finally found a New-Age commune in North Wales. She'd had enough of uniforms and rules.
She looked at herself in a full-length mirror one day, with a baggy cotton shirt on and cotton trousers, her hair woven into dreadlocks, face painted with Maori designs and felt good. She looked mucky and as though she slept in mud, but she was finally happy and practically invisible. Who'd look twice at a girl covered with mud?
