3
She wakes up in the dark. Hands tied before her, ankles bound, a gag in her mouth, lying on her side. She moves a little and her knee knocks against something. She moves more, and bumps her head and back and feet. She hears the sound of an engine, feels movement, and realises that she must be in the back of a car. In some kind of box in the boot of a car. They must be taking her out of the hotel.
She starts knocking on the side of the box with her feet and knees, her screaming muffled by the gag. Horrible images course through her mind: that she will be left here forever, abandoned, to die of asphyxiation; that the car will be plunged into a river with her inside; that she will be dropped into a vat of concrete; that she is being handed over to snuff film makers... Panic and claustrophobia overcome her. She has never been so terrified in her life. Like a wild animal fighting death, she thrashes in the dark, desperate to break the box, to make enough noise that someone will hear,
anyone
...
Either the driver has heard or they have arrived at their destination, but after an endless time the car stops. She hears the boot of the car being opened, and feels the box being lifted and dropped - something like a forklift? - then being pushed on wheels. She can hear voices outside, a distant car, the sound of wheels on gravel. She tries to make a noise, but feels suddenly paralysed, so that even her gag would not be required. She is incapable of screaming.
Finally she feels how the box is lifted again, placed on the floor, and opened. She blinks in the sudden light - even though she finds herself in a dimly lit room, the lighting is hard enough after the blackness of the box. She realises her face is sticky with tears and saliva, her body covered in its own urine. She must have wet herself with fear.
Her handler moves into her field of vision and gently lifts her out of the box. She feels suddenly so weak that she cannot even resist or try to stand, but just nestles gratefully into his arms. "I wet myself..." she whimpers, hardly knowing what she is saying.
"You have been in there for a long time, Anna. Hush. Everything's all right."
He carries her through what seem to be endless corridors: dark wood, carpets, dim lights, high ceilings. A country house? Then he walks into a bathroom suite that is almost as large as her old apartment, with a large Jacuzzi tub filled with water in the middle. Two naked women are standing next to it.
Her handler kneels on the edge of the tub and carefully places her in the warm, foamy water. It's such a relief and comfort that she starts sobbing quietly. "I'll see you early tomorrow, Anna. Take good care of her." This to the two women, who, immediately after her handler leaves, get into the water with her and carefully start washing her with sponges.
She tries to make a question, but is too weak and stunned to say anything, and, in any case, the women don't seem too willing to talk. In complete silence, they wash every inch of her body, taking away the foulness and the sweat and the grime. Then one of them gently starts to caress her body, starting at her breasts, then gradually moving down to her vulva, caressing her lips. It is not a teasing movement - rather, she seems to know exactly what to do, what to press, how to stroke - until Anna is on the verge of orgasm. The woman's face remains inexpressive throughout.
She is about to cum, when suddenly the two women make her stand up, dry her in a fluffy bathrobe, and lead her to an adjoining room, where a huge white bed is awaiting her. The women pull back the bed covers and help her to climb in. But they down pull the covers back over her again. Rather, the woman who had previously stroked her - a dark woman of about her age, with large, pendulous breasts and wide hips - goes back to work on her vulva, while the other woman - a younger, slim blonde - kisses her breasts and gradually moves up to her mouth.
A concerted onslaught. She is assailed, unable to defend herself against this intrusive, intense pleasure, but is too weak to struggle or even protest. The dark woman brings her mouth to Anna's lower lips while the blond probes into her mouth, and she surrenders herself to the pleasure. The orgasm, when it comes, is slow and languorous and surreal, like the entire situation. She cries out against the blonde's mouth and almost immediately sinks into a heavy, heavy sleep, oblivious to everything, even to the sound of the two silent women as they close the door on their way out.
***
She wakes to find the two silent women standing at the foot her bed, staring at her. They are dressed now: the blonde is wearing a short dark blue dress, the dark one is wearing a cream button-down blouse and a dark grey pencil skirt. They are both wearing heels.
"I thought you would be wearing long skirts and your tits would be bare," she tries to joke. "Like in the Story of O?"
The women say nothing, but just bring out some clothes from a wardrobe and proceed to dress her. Dark blue bra and culottes, blue suspenders, dark grey stockings, and a dark blue blouse and black pencil skirt similar to the dark woman's. Black heels.
Once she is dressed, the blonde sits her down on the bed again and starts to do her makeup while the dark woman looks on appraisingly: something creamy on her face, then eyes, mouth, perfume (she sprays in Anna's cleavage, then lifts Anna's skirt to spray some between her legs). Even though she is no longer so weak, Anna submits passively to these strange women's ministrations with no protest, feeling a bit like a doll being passed to and fro. She remembers last night's kisses, and her moisture starts to well up again.
Wordlessly, the dark woman leads her out of the room. They walk down corridors and passages, the dark woman leading, the blonde behind her: past endless dark wooden doors and framed pictures, up flights of stairs, until they reach a large double door. The dark woman knocks, then opens the door, motions for Anna to walk in, and closes the door behind her.
The library in a 19th-century English library, or as close as you can get to it, at least: a huge room with book-lined walls up to the high ceiling. Large windows at the end, overlooking a garden. Her handler is sitting at a desk in front of the windows, writing something in what looks like a ledger. He looks up.
"Ah, Anna. Good morning. I hope you slept well. Breakfast? You must need it after yesterday." He smiles. "And no doubt you'll need your strength again today. Would some toast do?"
She nods mutely, and her handler rings a bell. The blonde comes in. "Sylvia, would you please bring us some toast and... some coffee, yes? Coffee, excellent. And some orange juice too, I think." The blonde nods briskly and - silent as always - closes the door behind her. Anna can hear her steps on the soft carpeting as she hurries down the corridor.
Anna can't help herself. "Are they mute?"
"Sylvia and Astrid? Oh, no. They can speak perfectly well - several languages, actually. It's just that we prefer to keep them silent most of the time. Seen but not heard. They are more useful that way."
