Alexa watched as car made its way down the short gravel road, slowing down a little as the heavy gate swung open ominously, and engaged on the access road that led into the valley. She followed the glow of the headlights zigzagging down the hill, heard the distant roar of the engine carried over to her by the light breeze, until the car reached the main road and its red tail lights faded into the night.
Alexa quickly stowed away her binoculars and grabbed her flashlight, slipped on her backpack and started making her way down the hill. Her long brown hair, tied casually in a pony tail, bobbed on her shoulders as she jogged behind the trembling cone of her flashlight. She was wearing a dark runner's outfit: leggings, a tight long sleeved top, jacket and sneakers. She stumbled over rocks and tree roots until she found herself by the edge of a shallow river. She followed its bank, looking for a way across, until she saw a makeshift stone path cutting through the water. It was made of large, evenly spaced rocks lying sufficiently close together so that she could jump from one rock to the next until she reached the opposite bank. Once she was back on firm ground she switched off her flashlight. The ground rose again, steeply at first but then flattening out. She followed the curve of the hill, staying low, away from road, until she stood at the foot of the perimeter fence. There, she squatted down to catch her breath.
The air was cooler now. Above her head, stars were twinkling in the black dome of sky. She looked up and studied the fence. It consisted of closely spaced wrought-iron pickets, about three meters high, sunk into a low stone wall, each topped by a kind of gilded spire. She opened her backpack and withdrew a thick foam camping mattress. She unrolled it and flattened it out on the grass. Then she held on to one end and tossed the other over the fence. She needed several attempts until it was positioned properly, hanging securely like a protective cover over the pointed tips of the fence pickets. When she was satisfied she stepped back a few steps and hurled her backpack in a steep arc over the fence. She heard it land on the other side with a dull thud. Then she removed her shoes and socks, and climbed up, using only her hands and feet. She had a slight frame, almost petite, and her body was lithe and athletic. She reached the top without breaking a sweat and sat straddling the foam mattress. She took one final look around to check the coast was clear, then jumped and landed on the soft grass. She was now inside the property.
A tremor of apprehension rippled through her body. She could feel her pulse quicken, all her senses were on high alert. She retrieved her backpack and dashed across the lawn to the back of the house. Adjacent to the rear wall was a shed used as a garage for Evelyn's luxury cars. Its roof sloped up to the wall, meeting it just below an unlit window on the first floor. A rain gutter ran along the eaves to a pipe that descended straight into the ground. It was almost too easy. Alexa climbed up the pipe until she could grab the gutter with both hands. She pulled on it a few times to make sure it would carry her weight. Then, in a single fluid motion, she heaved herself onto the roof. She clambered up the steep incline to the wall, tiptoeing over wobbling shingles. There she squatted down and pressed her head against the window, hands cupped around her face.
She could see a large bed set against a wall to one side. It was covered with a thick bed spread, crisp and immaculate, and strewn with pillows, arranged more for lounging than for sleeping. On the opposite wall was a small fireplace with two armchairs, both oddly turned towards the bed, silent witnesses to the lewd acts that she knew must routinely play out on its sheets. Alexa realised she was looking at Evelyn's bedroom, and she smiled at the happy coincidence, for she knew this was the very room where the Countess' painting was to be found.
Feeling calmer now, she fished out her tool set. Using a glass cutter, she carved a twenty centimetre hole into one of the window panes, carefully reached through it with her forearm and unlocked the window from inside. It swung open noiselessly. She slipped into the room, felt her feet sink into soft carpet. She drew the curtains and began sweeping the room with her flashlight. As the beam wandered over Evelyn's bed, she noticed the leather shackles bolted into the sturdy bedposts. She pulled on the chains a few times, playfully. Her curiosity piqued, she pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand. To her amazement, it revealed a range of dildos of varying shapes and sizes. She picked one up and touched its cold metal surface. It was smaller than the others, barely the size of a finger, and Alexa briefly wondered if it had a some special use. Then she returned it carefully and closed the drawer. She let the beam wander further, searchingly, over the far wall, and suddenly she saw it, hanging over a small wooden cabinet. It was smaller than she had expected, about sixty centimetres wide and forty centimetres tall.
She moved closer to examine the painting in more detail. Monks in cassocks with oversize, swollen penises; nuns that looked more like eighteenth century noble ladies, pale and plump, with legs eagerly spread; curled flames in the shape of the devil rising through the church windows. It looked farcical somehow, she thought, but at the same time strangely unsettling.
Suddenly a strange uneasiness crept over her, a chill, the indistinct sense that there was somebody else in the room, watching her. The floor boards creaked, close behind her, and she felt a warm breath on her neck. It happened quickly. Before she could turn around, a strong arm locked around her waist. A towel was pushed against her mouth and nose. The sharp, acrid smell cut her breath away and almost at once she began to feel dizzy. Alexa struggled, but she felt weak, so weak. Stars were dancing in front of her eyes. Then everything went black.
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When Alexa opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was candle light. Long shadows were dancing eerily on the wall. She smelled the scent of burned wax, heard the soft hissing and crackling of tiny flames. She turned her head. More candles, held in brass chandeliers and standing on shelves amid pools of molten wax. "Where the hell am I?" she thought.
The room looked like a cellar. She could see exposed brick walls, a low ceiling traversed by wooden beams and a heavy door. There was no furniture except for the table she was lying on and a stool in a corner. She tried to sit up and look around, but something was pinning her down. She looked up along her arms, and saw that her wrists were held in thick leather shackles. She pulled on them reflexively, and heard the dry rattle of chains binding them to the table. She tried to push herself up with her feet, but found that her legs would not move.
She was becoming agitated now. She raised her head and looked down at herself. To her horror she discovered that she was stark naked. Candlelight was shimmering on her bare skin. She instinctively tried to close her legs but found that her ankles, like her wrists, were shackled to the table with her legs spread wide open. "This can't be real," she thought in disbelief, "I must be trapped in some horrible dream." With all her strength she pulled on the restraints. She twisted and turned her body, her small, perky breasts bobbing in futile attempts to pull herself free. She screamed for help, but her cries were met only with silence. Before long she let herself sink back resignedly, panting from her exertions.
Suddenly she glimpsed movement from the corner of her eyes. She looked up and saw somebody floating upside down, directly above her. For a few seconds her mind reeled in confusion, until she realised that she was looking at her own reflection in a life size mirror mounted on the ceiling. She gasped in shock as she caught a full frontal view of herself, lying spread-eagle on the table, legs splayed obscenely with her sex in full view. She noticed that her pubic hair had been shaven clean off. Her knees were bent outward slightly, causing her labia to part invitingly. In her entire life she had never felt so humiliated. She could feel tears of shame welling up.
Suddenly she heard footsteps coming closer. The door opened and two women entered the room. Alexa recognised the tall woman she had seen earlier leaving the property in her limousine. The other was shorter, wearing glasses and dressed in a kind of nurse's uniform.
