Chapter 5 – A Bid for Freedom
The next morning, as Emma ate her breakfast, the phone rang.
"Good morning. Emma Stewart speaking!" she announced brightly, refreshed after a good night's sleep, with no nightmares.
"You are NOT Emma Stewart, Slut!" shouted a familiar voice.
Emma was suddenly flustered. "Oh! Sorry, Madam; I forgot. Leila speaking, Madam! What can I do for you, Madam?"
"That's better! But don't forget in future, or I will need to punish you. I just called to remind you of your appointment at ten o'clock..."
"Oh, yes, Madam, I remember. I'm looking forward to it."
"...and to congratulate you!"
"Congratulate, Madam? For what?"
"We have the results of your tests. You are quite clear, and officially declared 'Clean'. I will discuss with my colleagues this afternoon the appointment of a trainer for you, and we might even be able to start to-morrow."
"So soon?" exclaimed Emma.
"Yes, why not? The sooner we start, the quicker you will be trained. I see no point in delaying."
"Yes, Madam. If you say so, Madam."
"OK. I will see you later."
The phone went dead. Emma felt suddenly dazed. Training might start to-morrow! That meant she had to escape to-day! She mustn't panic; she had several hours to go through her plans, and refine them.
Promptly at 9.55, Boris the palace guard unlocked her door, hooded her as usual, and escorted her to the resident physiotherapist. Exhibiting a thorough professionalism, the physio discussed with Emma means of alleviating aches and pains, and a regime of exercises to increase the suppleness of Emma's body so as to minimise pain and the risk of permanent injury. Emma felt unsettled at the matter-of-fact way in which the physio accepted that Emma would in the following days be beaten, stretched, tortured and tormented. It was as if these degradations were viewed as 'normal'.
It was the same with the palace beautician. She accepted as inevitable that Emma's body would be subject to unusual strains and stresses; her job was simply to advise Emma how best to avoid damage to the perfection of her body, and how to rectify any possible blemishes.
For over two hours, Emma's body was cosseted, massaged, and titillated. Her limbs were subjected to professional attention, following thorough manicure and pedicure. A hot scented bath was followed by a refreshing cold plunge, and further massage. Her hair was washed and carefully set. The range of available beauty products was explained and discussed.
When Emma was returned to her room just before one o'clock, she admired herself in the full length mirror. Her blonde hair bounced on top of her head. A fresh, beautiful face smiled back at her, flashing perfectly-formed bright white teeth. Emma thought she had never looked so good.
Emma ate her lunch hurriedly, not even glancing at the half bottle of wine provided. She added more fruit, water and bread rolls to her secret cache, impatient to act.
After lunch, Emma reviewed her plans. It HAD to be this afternoon; she couldn't afford to delay. It had just passed two o'clock, and she meant to make her escape at about five. That gave her nearly three hours – more than enough to get ready.
Emma laid out the items she planned to take, and divided them between her back-pack and shoulder bag, so that if she lost one, there would still be some clothing, food, water, light and jewellery in the other. She wondered if she would be able to disguise herself by changing clothes with one of the maids, but rejected the idea – both of the oriental girls were considerably smaller than Emma, and in any case, it might be too complicated to get one of them to undress. She finally settled on a loose-fitting long linen dress, with long sleeves, and a pair of comfortable trainers. She would have liked socks, but could find none, and settled on a pair of thick denier hold-up stockings. A floppy sun-hat completed the outfit.
Yasmin watched attentively from behind the secret mirror, and sent for Boris and Clyde.
As the hands of the clock moved through half-past-four, Emma made her final preparations. She used the phone to order tea, as planned, and then managed to cut the phone connection with her steak knife. That would prevent the maid from phoning for help and raising the alarm.
Emma waited behind the door, wearing her back-pack and shoulder bag, holding the knife in her hand.
"She's going to make an escape attempt," announced Yasmin. "You know what to do; go to your places now."
"Yes, Madam," agreed Boris and Clyde in unison, leaving at a trot.
Yasmin continued to watch. The door of Emma's room opened, and one of the maids entered, wheeling a small trolley. She looked surprised not to see Emma immediately, and then started in astonishment as Emma shouted from behind the door, "Don't be afraid; I don't want to hurt you!" She brandished her knife at the terrified maid. "Lie on the bed, face down!"
The maid obeyed. Inexpertly, Emma managed to tie the maid's hands behind her back, using silk stockings, and secure her to the bed-post. A large silk scarf around her mouth served as a rudimentary gag.
"Don't make a sound!" ordered Emma. "They will miss you before long, and come to look for you."
Emma carefully closed the door behind her, and looked left and right along a wide corridor. She saw no clues as to the best exit, and headed off to her left, running as lightly as she could. She had covered no more than fifteen metres when a large figure in combat uniform appeared from a side corridor and began walking towards her. Immediately, she recognised Clyde, swore gently, and turned to run in the opposite direction, hoping that he hadn't recognised her.
Almost at once, another figure – Boris – appeared from further down the corridor, holding up his hand in a clear order to halt. Emma slowed down, her brain racing. She had Boris in front of her, and Clyde behind. Certainly Boris had already recognised her. But she couldn't just give up. Hoping to gain a small advantage by surprise, and that the larger man might be less agile, she turned quickly and ran towards Clyde, waving her knife in front of her. Clyde watched her approach, crouching. With astonishing speed for such a large man, his actions looking like something out of a martial arts movie, he was upon her. His clenched fist struck the side of her head, stunning her slightly. He then grasped her right arm, twisting it painfully behind her, and the knife fell uselessly from her hand. Somehow, the hold completely paralysed her. She blinked back tears from the pain, as Boris also approached. Emma kept telling herself to move, to fight, but her muscles wouldn't respond. She stared in disbelief as Boris pulled a large, squishy ball from his pocket and began forcing it into her mouth.
"No!" she finally managed to shout, just as the spongy sphere slipped past her lips, expanding to fill her cheeks. She struggled to suppress her gagging reflex. Boris immediately began circling her head with a bandage which was obviously meant to prevent her from spitting out the ball. All the while, Clyde held her helpless. He twisted her wrist and hand in a way that caused indescribable pain whenever she tried to struggle.
They set about binding her. Clyde moved to one side, allowing Boris access to her wrists, which were quickly immobilized with tape. More tape was applied to her elbows, drawing her arms painfully close together behind her. At last, Clyde let her go. She stood there glaring at her captors, unable to move, apparently rooted to the spot. Fear seemed to constrict her chest. She couldn't seem to catch her breath.
She heard the click-clack of high-heeled shoes approaching from behind. "Well done boys," announced Yasmin. "No injuries, I hope?"
"No, Madam," replied Clyde, smiling, "but she did try to stick me with that little knife on the floor!"
"Stupid girl!" grinned Yasmin. "Fancy trying to attack a hulk like you with that little thing! She needs a lesson, but first, blindfold her, and bring her to the tower. Leave her bags here; I'll see to them later."
Boris removed a hood from his pocket, placed it over Emma's head, and secured it with a loose knot. He picked up the tightly-bound girl, and threw her over his left shoulder. The sudden movement sent agonising shivers through Emma's arms, and she screamed into her gag. Boris took no notice. Emma could hear Yasmin's high heels tapping down the corridor. Boris followed, with Clyde just behind.
In her blindfold, all was darkness for Emma. She felt Boris come to a halt, and then heard doors opening. After a forward movement, the doors closed, and she felt the ground rising as the lift sprang into action. Boris' left arm held her tightly, over his shoulder. To her horror and consternation, she felt his right hand under her skirt. His rough-skinned fingers forced themselves between her thighs, and worked upwards. She tried to clench her thighs together, but every movement increased the agony she felt in her arms as the binding dug into her flesh. Inexorably, his thumb found her slit. She tried to force her legs together, to prevent access, but his thumb parted the dry lips of her naked pussy. Suddenly, she felt herself becoming damp. 'NO!' she screamed to herself. 'NO! I don't want this! I don't do this! I am not aroused!' She fought, but could not resist the flow from her pussy as Boris' fingers explored further.
The lift stopped, she heard doors open, and Boris moved forward. It was as if he had carried her into a hot oven. She gasped as the hot air hit the back of her throat. She winced in pain when Boris lifted her to the ground, and blinked in the bright sunlight as he removed her blindfold.
Emma looked around her. They seemed to be on top of a slim tower, about forty metres high. Radiating out from the tower were various buildings, enclosing courtyards, and covering an area of about five hectares, completely surrounded by a high wall. Many of the courtyards had elaborate gardens, with shady trees and tinkling fountains. Beyond the wall, in all directions, was sand – nothing but sand, undulating into the distance. The sun blazed down unremittingly. Even in the late afternoon shade at the top of the tower, the temperature was well in excess of 40ºC.
"OK, you stupid bitch," started Yasmin, "where the hell did you think you were going? From here, there's nothing but sand in all directions. The nearest oasis is fifty kilometres away. If you look over there, to the north, you can just make out a caravan. Their next water is eighty kilometres away. Most of our essentials come in by helicopter, from the capital; that's over sixty kilometres away. Even if you'd managed to get out of the palace, how long do you think you'd have lasted out there?"
Tears rolled down Emma's cheeks, reflecting not only the excruciating pain in her arms and elbows, but the hopelessness of her situation. She tried to speak, but the gag muffled her words.
"OK, boys," Yasmin continued, "it's just gone five o'clock. You can have the bitch until eleven tonight. That should give you ample time to teach her a lesson. Use Room 48."
