Tales of Drysdale House (11B)

(The second part of  Hannah Quigley, the chapter was so long it needed to be broken up into three parts. Part 1 was yesterday, Part 3 will be tomorrow. This is part 2)

Tale of Drysdale House (11b)

The whipping of Hannah Quigley

“Did they take you directly to this place? I asked Hannah Quigley.

“Yes, sir. When Mr Montgomery and Mr Jackson grabbed me, Mr Vansittart was shouting that I must be taken someplace quiet where I could be ‘interrogated properly’. Miss VanRijn was trying to hush everyone up ‘so you won’t disturb Uncle’, I was shouting to them to let me go. I almost twisted away from Mr Jackson when Mr Montgomery started looking among his keys. But Mr Jackson was too strong for me. Men are so strong, they should defend women, not attack us!

Mr Montgomery said he knew the exact place I belonged. Mr Jackson covered my mouth and said if I said one more word, I would regret it. I screamed and then…..’

“And then?”, I asked.

“Then he hit me, me slapped me. It was awful. Men are such brutes.”

“So you were quiet then?”

“Yes, sir. I was afraid of what Mr Jackson would do to me. They dragged me out of the hall and down a flight of stairs. It was a part of this house, Dragonwyck, I had not been in before, This house is so large. Did you know there are over thirty guest rooms?”

Hannah shifted uneasily. She had been kneeling on the hard flagstones for some while.

“May I please stand up, sir, my knees are very sore.”

I was pleased that she had asked It showed that although she was still technically a free woman, she understood that her status as a captive chained to the wall diminished her freedom of action. That she was naked, save for a wisp of silk caressing her loins would add to her discomfort and feeling of inferiority.

“Stay as you are for the present. It will help you remember how you came to this point. And remember to keep your knees apart. You have closed them too much.”

“Yes sir. I am sorry sir.”

Hannah looked very small and vulnerable, kneeling there. I might have been moved to pity, but for two things. She was there as a result of her own actions and foolishness. She had disobeyed her sister and had gone to Vansittart to resolve a situation best left alone. Secondly, she looked attractive and frankly hot, kneeling there with her legs spread wide. Many women do, I was finding, I nodded at her to continue.

“Then brought me to this creepy old place. Mr Vansittart told me I had one last chance to confess it was Barbara’s fault that Mr Frick found out whatever it was he found out. I still wouldn’t confess to something that was not true. I just couldn’t. Then Mr Vansittart picked up that whip over there and threatened he would whip me until I told the truth. I said nothing. I didn’t believe that could happen in this day and age. I didn’t believe something like that could happen.

I looked in the direction Hannah had indicated. On a low table there was a coiled whip, not too long, a wide leather strap with a handle, and four or five leather thongs, thickish about two feet long. I picked up the whip.

I asked, “This whip?”

Hannah leapt back. She backed away, her hands held out in front of her.

“Please sir, please no. I am a good girl.”

“This whip?” I asked again.

“Yes, sir. That is the whip he used.”

“Back to your position.”

Hannah reluctantly knelt. I pointed to a spot just in front of me. She crawled to the spot, and knelt again, legs very wide, head lowered. She was very flushed.

“So he whipped you then?”

“No, sir. Mr Montgomery said it would be more effective if the whip was hitting bare skin. He told me to undress. I couldn’t do that. I crossed my arms and said I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. Then I screamed. Mr Jackson had struck me across my bottom with that wide strap sir. I had never been hurt like that. My parents never spanked me, at least once I was more than two or three years old. I thought I could appease them by taking off my cardigan at least. So I did that. Mr Jackson told me not to drop it on the floor because it was cashmere, but to fold it carefully and put it on that table over there. They had more consideration for my cashmere cardigan than for me!

I thought that it was as bad as it was going to get, then he told me take off my shirt. It was a lovely off-white sea island cotton. I folded it as well and put it with the cardigan. Then the brutes…the brutes had me take off my bra sir, and put it with the rest. They made comments about my breasts, sir.”

“Well, you do have nice tits.”

I made sure that she saw looking at her breasts again. The nipples were quite erect. Her hands came partly up and the subsided back to resting on her thighs.

“I tried to cover myself, sir, but they would not let me. Mr Jackson used that strap again, sir. It was very embarrassing.”

“But you took your clothes off yourself, they did not tear them from you?”

“They would have beaten me with the strap if I had not sir. And I did not want the clothes ruined.”

“But you did remove them yourself” They did not tear or cut them from you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And then you were whipped?”

“Not right then, sir. Then I was told to remove my shoes.”

I looked over at the table where her shoes were sitting besides the neat pile of her clothing. I did not know the make, but they looked expensive.

“And what happened next, Hannah?”

“Then I had to remove my tights and my skirt. It was lovely, suitable for a fancy dinner. Mid-calf, fine wool. I folded that too.”

I walked over to the table and fingered the material. It was fine and soft. I spoke to the kneeling girl again.

“At least they let you keep your silk underwear, Hannah.”

“These are not mine!”

The girl sounded indignant. How curious.

“Mine are there on the table”

I found the underwear on the table. Cotton, not skimpy at all. Almost granny panties.

“And you removed your skirt, your tights, your underwear by yourself? They were not torn or cut from you?”

“I am sure that I would have been beaten if I had not, sir?”

“But they weren’t torn from you, you were not beaten?”

“No, sir. But I am sure I would have been.”

“But you did remove them, when they asked you to.”

“I was afraid!”

“They told you to bare yourself, they told you to remove all your clothing, and you did so? Your clothing was not cut from you, nor torn? They told you to stand naked in front of them, and you did so?”

“Yes, sir, but..”

“No, buts. They told you to remove your clothes and stand naked in front of them and you did so. Yes or No”

Cross-examination is a crucial skill for a lawyer. Getting a witness to admit to what they don’t want to is the essence of that. I had just got Hannah Quigley to admit to me, and more importantly, to herself, that she had removed her own clothing; it had not been torn or cut from her. She was trembling on her knees before me; naked except for that wisp of diaphanous red silk that clung to her loins. I had one last admission to wring from her.

“Did you at least try to cover yourself with your hands Hannah? Did you try to preserve some modesty.”

“No sir. They said it wasn’t allowed.”

“Did you at least try?”

“No sir. I just stood in front of them. Mr Jackson and Mr Montgomery just made comments, sir, beastly comments. Mr Vansittart just wanted to whip me at once. He was afraid that unless he could get me to admit Barbara made a mistake, Mr VanRijn would believe me.”

“So, you just stood naked in front of them, no clothes, no effort to cover yourself, while they assessed you.”

“Yes, sir.”

The girl slumped in front of me. I think she was more abashed now as she relived the episode than when it had occurred. Over the past twenty-four hours she had become at least a little accustomed to her nudity; now the full import of her condition came flooding back.

“Well, at least they found you comely. Were you then whipped?”

“Yes sir.”

“Tell me.”

“Mr Montgomery tied my hands together in front of me with one of those leather thongs. He tied them very tight indeed. Then he tied my hands to that hook sir.”

I looked to where the girl pointed. There was a beam running up the length of the wall. It had hooks to which a girl who was to be whipped could be attached.

“They attached me sir, like a beast to be killed or a prisoner in a medieval dungeon. Then he whipped me, Mr Vansittart. He would not let one of the others do it. He said he had to punish me for me and Barbara getting him in trouble with Mr VanRijn. He struck me with the whip. The pain was ever so terrible. I have never felt anything like that it my life. Blow after blow. It was awful. I screamed, I cried. Oh that terrible whip. I begged for him to stop. He said I needed to confess, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. He must have whipped me a hundred times.”

The girl was crying again. I got her some more water in the small tin cup. As before, I held the cup, while she drank. Then I crouched behind her and examined her back. There were almost a dozen red marks across it. Nowhere near a hundred. Still, it must have hurt the girl, although not as much as a Gorean slave whip. Doubtless Hannah had been shocked, though, as well as scared.

“You did not confess?”

“No sir. Barbara and I had done nothing wrong. Barbara is a hard worker; and so am I.”

Anders had given me a salve he had brought from Gor while we were walking in the woods. He had said it was good against all manner of hurts. He had meant thorns and insect bites in that instance, but I decided to try it on Hannah.

“I have something I think may help your pain.

I took a small amount of the salve from a flat round tin, and put it on the girl’s hurts. Slowly I rubbed it into her skin. The redness started to disappear; the girl relaxed and almost purred.

“Is that better?”

“Yes sir, it helps a lot.”

“Did he strike you anywhere else?”

Hannah hesitated. “Sometimes the whip hit my back and curled around, uh curled around my side and then it hit….”

“Hit where?”

“Hit my breas…hit my tit sir.”

My fingers followed the red marks around her side, rubbing in salve, then I started rubbing salve into her firm tits. Hannah moaned. I applied massage longer than the faint red marks warranted. Hannah leaned back into my chest. I stood up, pulling her up with me.

“Did the whip hit anywhere else, your rear perhaps?”

As I asked my fingers were exploring her butt, only half covered by the clinging red silk. Hannah hesitated before answering.

“No sir, only as I told you.?

“And then what happened.”

“Mr Vansittart was disappointed I had not confessed. He said I was to have only Nutri-girl to eat. He said he would think of something else. Then he left. Mr Montgomery left with Mr Vansittart. Mr Jackson stayed. I was still tied to the whipping post. He touched me, sir. He touched me places he should not have. He was a brute.”

“Did you tell him to stop.”

“He didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until Mr Montgomery returned with this collar and chain.”

I turned the girl around and examined the collar. It was an old iron collar, very heavy and thick, far thicker than needed to secure a girl. Likewise the chain was iron, not still, both were a little rusty. The collar was secured by a build-in lock, then the chain was locked onto the collar at one end and locked to a ring-bolt in the wall at the other. The chain was long enough to allow her to lie down and to reach the buckets. In all, I would estimate about eight feet. She could not reach her clothes, or the whip or the strap.

“After that they left you alone?”

“No sir, after that, terrible things happened.”

“Describe them.”

“Please, sir, no.”

“Describe them.”

“Mr Jackson returned. It may have been an hour later. He said…he said there were other things that can be done to a naked girl who is collared in a stone cell. It was like a dream, a terrible dream.”

“Do you often have dreams about been chained up, collared in a stone cell?”

“I sometimes have nightmares, awful nightmares. I wake up drenched in sweat. Sometimes I have pulled off my nightgown, so intense are the dreams.”

That was interesting.

“Continue your story.”

Mr Jackson made me stand up. He had me put my hands behind my head. He looked me over. He touched me.”

“Did you try to cover yourself?”

“He forbade it. I had to obey. I was collared to the wall. I found myself obeying. He took a leather thong from the table by the whip, the awful whip. He tied my hands behind my back. He touched me, he made me moan. There was nothing I could do, I was a collared girl in stone cell, like the dreams, I mean nightmares, of course. Then he laid me down and had me.”

“Was it terrible?”

“My body betrayed me; it would not let me fight him.”

She covered her face.

“It was shattering. How my body betrayed me. He was so strong.

The way she looked as she recounted the episode made me think that her body was about to betray her again.

“Then what happened?”

“He washed me. My hands were still behind my back. He washed my face, my breas…I mean my tits where he came on them, my other places. At last he was done, then he took them out of his pocket.”

“These.”

She touched the red silk, running her hands over it.

“I asked for my clothes. He said that if I wanted to wear something, I could wear these. The package is over there. He said they suited a girl like me.”

Her voice broke. I retrieved the package. The red silk panties that so inadequately covered Hannah were made by K-girl. K-girl was a brand of slave silks made by Don Emery, a minor member of the Emery Family. He made custom dancing silks for kajirae. He had provided silks for Juli and Veronika. He also sold K-Girl silk apparel for women who liked to cosplay as slaves for their amusement and that of their boyfriends which he sold on the internet. Zack Frick had told me that the mailing list of such purchasers was very useful in targeting acquisitions.

“He made you put these on?”

“No. He said I could.”

“You put on this silk to ride so near your skin, to ‘kiss and caress your intimate areas’ as it says on the back of the package, of your own free will.”

“I needed to put on something!”

“You put on this intimate silk of your own free will?”

“I needed to wear something!”

“You put on this intimate silk of your own free will?”

“Yes sir.”

“Does it ‘kiss and caress’ you?”

“Yes sir.” Her voice was lower.

“Does it ‘kiss and caress’ your intimate areas”

“Yes sir.” Her voice was quieter still. “But I had to wear something instead of being naked.”

“It doesn’t hide much as it ‘kisses and caresses’, does it?”

“It is something, at least sir. I can’t help if it is soft on my skin. I can’t help if it ‘kisses and caresses’, sir.”

I looked at her. As I continued to look, Hannah Quigley sank to her knees in front of me. It was an appropriate action for a naked girl who was collared and chained to the wall. A naked girl but for a wisp of red silk kissing and caressing her loins. She parted her knees, laying her hands down on her naked thighs. It was the appropriate stance for her, even though she might be not a slave, but a captive free woman naked and collared and chained to the wall.

“Did Mr Jackson do anything else?”

“He left shortly afterward. But I heard something as he left. It was the sound of a woman laughing. As Mr Jackson went out the door, I heard say to him, ‘you really made her cry out, I think she liked it. Now hurry up, we only have until midnight when you go on watch duty’. Then they hurried off.”

“Do you know who the woman was?”

“Yes sir, it was Nicola VanRijn.”

Well, that was an interesting development. I gave Hannah a scotch mint.