The room was dim, shrouded in shadow. I shifted in my chair, tried to look around, but if anyone else was in the room, they were as quiet and still as I. No one wanted to be noticed. No one wanted to be first.
As if that thought had summoned him, a man appeared in front of me. "Come with me," he said.
No name. No introduction. He wore a white shirt and pants, more visible in the darkness than the simple brown dress I had on, the same as I'd worn every day of my life for as long as I could remember. The same as all girls wore. I couldn't remember ever seeing a man in white, though.
I followed him. I had to. I didn't know where I was or where I was going, and I would only delay the inevitable if I resisted. I'd been told that much.
He led me down a short corridor, eerily silent, and through a heavy door into a small, apparently empty room, as dark as the rest of the building. He closed the door with an ominous click, and I was seized with a paralyzing fear.
Well, this was the path I'd chosen. A woman who did not want to follow a traditional path had few other options, and the life of a laborer or maid held less appeal than motherhood.
There was a reason so few came to the Palace, though, and not only because of the whispers and rumors and mystery. The requirements for entry were strict and specific, and I met those criteria as much by pure luck as out of any desire to be selected.
The man in white carried a bag slung over one shoulder, and from this bag, he retrieved four leather cuffs, each with a metal ring attached that glinted in the low light. I stepped back from him by reflex, but he was unperturbed. There was nowhere for me to go. He fixed a cuff around each of my wrists, reached up into the darkness above my head, and brought down a metal hook until it dangled just in front of my face. I stared at it in confusion, until he guided each of my hands up and attached the rings in the cuffs to the hook. A crank on the wall raised the hook until my arms were stretched above my head. I didn't think to fight or struggle, too petrified and bewildered to do anything but allow him to continue.
Satisfied with his work and my cooperation, he went to one knee and removed my slippers and stockings, then fastened the other two cuffs around my ankles. From his bag, he pulled out two short lengths of chain, which he connected to the rings in my ankle cuffs. He forced my legs apart, as wide as possible while still supporting some of my weight on my feet, and attached the other end of each chain to a ring bolted to the floor near each foot so that I was held quite securely in place.
He studied his handiwork, inspecting me as one would inspect a piece of furniture for defects, then produced a knife from his belt. At that, I let out a gasp. He simply continued in his slow and methodical movements, a man just doing his job. He sliced through my sleeves, then down the front of my dress, and peeled it away from my body, leaving me in my undergarments. I shivered, though the room was not cold. Trussed as I was, I could only watch as the knife came toward me again, making swift cuts through the straps of my slip, then down the front, and peeled away as my dress had been, leaving my breasts bare. In these, too, the man seemed strangely uninterested, just two more breasts among the many he had seen. I, though, was not so sanguine, and wished to bring down my hands to cover myself. It was impossible, of course.
Once more the knife flashed, through the leg holes of my undershorts, then the waist, and those, too were removed so that I stood before him naked and bound, terrified. He paid me no more mind, simply gathered the scraps of my clothing, replaced his knife in his belt, picked up his bag, and left the room.
My hands tingled and my thighs ached with the strain of my bonds. I was not left alone for long. Another man in white entered the room, also with a bag slung over his shoulder. He said nothing at all, just slipped around behind me and began brushing my hair. This was unexpected, and the gentle touch was strangely soothing. He braided my hair into a long plait, then appeared in front of me again. From his bag came a small case containing several damp cloths. He cleaned my face, my underarms, then knelt to wash between my legs, igniting a fire in my cheeks at the impersonal yet intimate nature of his activity. He separated the cheeks of my bottom with one hand and cleaned me there as well. I squirmed but could not get far, and my strained thighs protested my movement.
He had one last duty, it seemed. He reached into his bag again and pulled out a long, narrow, black cloth, which he wrapped around my eyes and knotted in the back, leaving me in total darkness. I only knew when he left by the click of the door latch.
I heard the door open and close five or six times. I tried to keep count, but my fear and increasing weariness clouded my memory. No one spoke, and not even the rustle of clothing or soft footsteps betrayed anything about who may have opened the door and why. The knowledge that I stood here so exposed and vulnerable overwhelmed me, and I cried behind the blindfold.
I had withdrawn so far into myself that I was not aware someone was in the room with me until my hands were released from the hook and brought down in front of me. I swayed and could not control the muscles of my arms, but while one person held my wrists, another freed my ankles and helped me stay upright as I closed my legs, wincing at the pain in my thighs. A collar was placed around my neck, my arms were bent so that my wrists could be chained to my collar, and I was led forward by a leash. And still no one spoke. I was given no instruction, no information. As I began to walk, I found my ankles had been connected together with enough slack to take short steps so I could shuffle along behind my guide but could not kick or try to run.
We walked straight, then turned, then straight again, taking a winding path that I could not begin to track, and then the hard floor under my feet became soft rugs. I was urged forward by my leash a few more steps then suddenly lifted by the underarms and knees and placed on my back on some hard surface.
My wrists were unhooked from my collar and brought up behind my head and fastened there, and then my legs were forced to bend at the knee and my ankles were released and attached so that my legs were spread wide with my feet resting flat on the surface beneath me. To prevent me from allowing my legs to fall closed, further straps were cinched around my thighs, and those, too, were attached to the platform on which I lay.
What was to happen to me, that I needed to be restrained so securely? A simple order to be still would suffice, I thought.
Once more, I heard the latch of a door, and then the swish of slippers on carpet. None of the others who had attended me so far had allowed me to hear their footsteps. And then a male voice spoke, the first words anyone had uttered to me since I was led away from the entry chamber.
"Is it to be pleasure or pain this evening?" he asked.
