(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 14: The Wheel and the Well) Chapter 15: A Plethora of Tortures The almost inaudible flutter of what seemed like a thousand candle flames; the soft plopping sound as a drop of molten wax fell to the stone floor; the gentle straining sound of the rope as it chaffed against the pulley, high above on the ceiling; the creak of the timber cogs, behind her back and out of sight. All these sounds paled into insignificance when compared to the thump, thump, thump of Cathy’s heart, and the irregular sound of her breath as she fought to keep her terrified mind and body under some sort of self control. Although remaining motionless wasn’t a problem for her in the short term, how would she fare after many hours of this stretched out immobility? What if she fell asleep and inadvertently stirred during her slumbers? Would this be enough to submerge Bethany in the deadly waters of the well? ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 15: A Plethora of Tortures) Chapter 16: Saskia the Amateur Sleuth Saskia checked the CCTV footage for what must have been the hundredth time. Although the image wasn’t crystal clear, she was convinced that the female figure seen walking along the platform at Ipswich station and then getting onto the East Suffolk branch line train was the missing woman. She leaned back in her chair and gazed out of the window of her office. After this morning’s rain, the late afternoon sunshine seemed to have brought the crowds out onto the streets of Ipswich, as directly below her window in Giles Circus, late shoppers mingled with people leaving off work for the day, with running and playing school children wending and weaving their way between the ever moving throng. Pigeons strutted and fluttered between peoples’ feet, whilst herring gulls wheeled overhead and landed on window ledges and roofs, waiting hawk-eyed for any scraps of fast food dropped by the passing human melee. Although dulled by the double-glazing, a general hubbub of everyday life could still be heard above the office sounds created by her fellow workers. Saskia gazed upon this scene for a minute or two, before her eyes were drawn further afield, to where the sun’s rays reflected back off the glass façade of the Willis Building. Pondering, she bit her lip. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 16: Saskia the Amateur Sleuth) Chapter 17: The Party A short series of slaps to the face was the catalyst that brought Saskia back into consciousness. These blows weren’t particularly hard, but they had the desired effect of forcing her to open her eyes and stare groggily at the person responsible for this assault upon her cheeks. As her eyes regained their focus, they made contact with those of another female only a few inches in front of her. These eyes, however, were about the only feature visible in a face otherwise covered from neck to crown of the head in a vivid pink hood which appeared almost glued to the contours of the wearer’s face. Saskia also received the impression that she was staring upwards at this woman, as if she were laid out on the floor, or maybe a bed. Behind the masked woman, another woman could be viewed, standing only feet away and looking down on the scene before her. She was wearing a bright red cat-suit that was moulded to every curve of her body, and the sight of this vision in crimson brought back to Saskia where she was and what she was doing here, although the exact circumstances of how she’d fallen asleep were a bit hazy. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 17: The Party) Chapter 18: A Clearer View of Things When Cathy again saw daylight after the conclusion of the ordeal she and Bethany had shared in the cellar, it was obviously late afternoon. Although the passing of the hours and days was not easy to gauge in her almost continuous state of sensory deprived imprisonment, a quick calculation told her that she had been held here for five days and five nights by this time, which meant that it must be Wednesday. So if Dolores’ assertion that this effort to brainwash both herself and her fellow captive was to commence next week, there were still at least four days in the interim period to be negotiated and survived prior to this form of mental indoctrination being forced upon them. What was going to happen in the meantime? None of the probable scenarios bore too much thinking about. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 18: A Clearer View of Things) Chapter 19: The Padded Cell There is a quote, often attributed to Albert Einstein (although there is some dispute over its provenance), which states that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If this is true, then Cathy would most definitely have been certified by now, as she had by this time spent a week in extreme bondage, and had continually fought her restraints without success, yet still persevered with her attempts to free herself from what she must have by now known were inescapable circumstances. (The irony of this is, of course, that had she been pronounced insane, then the chances are that she would have ended up in a straitjacket and a padded cell, which would bring her full circle back to a situation not unlike that which had caused her to be diagnosed as mentally unstable in the first place). ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange) Chapter 2: Kangaroo Court To say that Cathy’s mind was in a state of turbulence would have been an understatement. With her future a complete unknown, the stricken woman spent a sleepless night on the hard, uncomfortable floor of her cell, with little to take her mind off the grave situation she found herself in. In all her years of breaking and entering, she had had a few close shaves. Once or twice, the owner of the property that she had been targeting had almost caught her in the act. Once she had even been chased by an irate, shotgun wielding elderly gentleman, whose valuables she had just managed to liberate. But each time, her feline like agility and speed had been sufficient to get her out of a fix. Even when, on two occasions, the police had arrived whilst she was still at the ‘scene of the crime’, she’d still managed to slip away and avoid capture. This time, however, there was no getting away. Although she knew that being arrested would probably result in her being given a custodial sentence – especially if the numerous other offences she’d committed could be linked to her and taken into consideration – she began to wonder whether this might actually be a more preferable outcome than the one looming large before her now. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 19: The Padded Cell) Chapter 20: The Training Room - Revisited Monday morning saw Cathy visiting the room with the three TV screens and high backed metal chairs for the second time. In contrast to her first, accidental, foray into this windowless chamber, however, the room was now bathed in bright light, with the three seats unoccupied - their attached straps hanging loosely from the rigid arms, legs and backs - and the screens merely lifeless grey rectangles against the backdrop of the featureless walls. The headphones lay discarded on the chairs; silent… at least for the time being. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 20: The Training Room - Revisited) Chapter 21: Saskia’s Unexpected Discovery With great difficulty, Saskia propelled herself, caterpillar fashion, across the floor of her padded prison. Reaching a corner of the room, she rolled over awkwardly and pulled herself up into a sitting position, with the soft, yielding wall at her back. The effort needed to achieve this posture had made her breathless, and the rag filling her mouth, plus the tape that held it in place, made taking in air a task that could only be accomplished through her nostrils. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 21: Saskia’s Unexpected Discovery) Chapter 22: Dolores’ Little Secret Dolores entered her spacious boudoir and closed the door behind her. To ensure that she received no uninvited visitors for the next hour or two, she secured it with the small key that protruded from the lock, before testing the handle to ensure that it was no longer capable of being opened. Not that this was a particular concern to her, as neither her three servants, nor the equal number of reluctant house guests that currently resided here, should have had any way of making it to the entrance of her own private apartment. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 22: Dolores’ Little Secret) Chapter 23: Saskia’s Plans Take Shape Saskia walked out into the hallway directly outside Dolores’ apartments, her mind reeling from the discovery she’d just made and – more importantly – what she’d just done. For several seconds, as she made her way towards the nearest staircase, the sound of muffled screams and stifled banging assaulted her ears. But as she put more distance between herself and the hellish rumpus that the Mistress of Shackleton Grange was stirring up, the less pronounced the sound became, until, once on the landing of the next floor down, it faded away, to leave the old house in a state of ghostly silence. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 23: Saskia’s Plans Take Shape) Chapter 24: A Shift in the Balance of Power What do you think would happen if, after having been kept tied up by their host for days on end, humiliated and scared out of their wits, three spandex-clad young ladies suddenly found that they had the run of the rambling old house in which they’d been imprisoned, with all the dungeons and other places of incarceration now available to them, and with copious amounts of bondage equipment such as ropes and shackles just sitting there waiting to be experimented with? ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 24: A Shift in the Balance of Power) Chapter 25: Dolores Alone Shackleton Grange basked in the shimmering heat of a languid spring afternoon; those ancient towers and spires standing proud against the gently rolling Suffolk landscape, as they had for centuries. And yet, today something was different. In the woods, a parliament of rooks held their daily conclave; their cawing that little bit more frenzied than normal, as they discussed the news filtering from the crumbling brickwork that a monarch had been dethroned, and debated the uncertainty of the interregnum. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 2) Chapter 3: Horse Play After what seemed like several hours, during which Cathy had no option but to remain in immovable stasis, the sound of several sets of feet approaching slowly but surely built in volume, until they sounded as if they were just outside the door. The turning of the key in the lock, then the creaking of the ancient wood, was swiftly followed by the unmistakable tones of Dolores’ voice permeating through the layers of latex. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 3) Chapter 4: The Crypt When she came to, Cathy found herself lying in the recovery position on the grass. For a second or two she forgot where she was and tried to sit up. But immediately she discovered that her arms were still encased in the unforgiving leather sleeve, although, on the plus side, she was no longer lashed to the trotting cart, and the bit had been loosened to allow it to slip from her mouth. The harness was still fastened tightly around her torso however, and the bridle straps continued to bite deeply into her face and neck. As the comprehension of where she was finally returned and her eyes were once more able to focus, she realised that there was a general hubbub of noise somewhere away to her right. Turning her head, she noticed most of the stable girls, plus Dolores and her three right- hand- women, all milling around a trotting cart that seemed to have overturned at a distance of around fifty yards from where she lay. It was obvious straightaway that one of the participants in the time trial had crashed, spilling her rider in the process. This was evidenced by the fact that the main group were now clustered around one of the woman, who was gingerly getting to her feet; her hair dishevelled and her skin-tight suit covered in dust and dirt. The ponies, all still harnessed to their carts, stood around gazing on helplessly. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 4) Chapter 5: Conflicting Emotions “Just where do you think you’re going young lady?” Less than two yards away, leaning against the wall, stood Dolores. Cathy froze. In her single-minded quest to exit the bathroom, she had failed to look further ahead for any potential hazards that might be blocking her route. Dolores sighed, disappointedly. “You really do like making life difficult for yourself, don’t you Cathy? I deliberately left you here all alone to see if you’d try something stupid, or whether you’d finally learnt that disobedience will always get you into trouble. I was hoping it was the latter, but I now see that my trust in you is misplaced. Looks like you need another lesson in discipline.” ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 5) Chapter 6: Bethany the Novice Bethany leant back in her seat and gazed out at the rolling Suffolk countrywide. The gently undulating fields, the farmhouses, the picturesque villages with their ‘Suffolk Pink’ cottages, and the occasional windmill, all flashed by in the late afternoon sunshine. But despite the views on offer, the pleasant scenery failed to make much impression on the twenty two year old, as her distracted mind wandered elsewhere. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 6) Chapter 7: An Evening of Discovery As Bethany entered the room, the soft hubbub of conversation died down, and all heads turned in the direction of the newcomer. She paused and stood nervously looking around at the assembled women; numbering twelve, if the calculation gleaned from her swift glance around the room was accurate. All wore tightly fitting cat-suits of various materials, which showed off their long legs and shapely figures perfectly. Eight of the women sat in two rows of chairs that had been laid out theatre-style in a semi circle. They sat giggling nervously and whispering to each other behind their hands, and shifted somewhat apprehensively in their seats. These, Bethany guessed, were her classmates. The two mute and hooded servants that Bethany had already encountered, stood to one side, as if waiting for orders. And they had been joined by a third, similarly dressed female, whose outfit, in contrast to the neutral tones of the other two, was a bright vivid pink. The final figure, who had been standing with her back to the door upon Bethany’s entrance, was Dolores. Sensing the new arrival’s presence, she turned and beckoned her to come forward. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 7) Chapter 8: A Shared Experience Dolores took two steps forward, her shadow looming large over the two figures hunched in the dark corner of the room; one entirely cocooned in duct tape, the other swathed only in fear. She bent over and grabbed the spandex neck of Bethany’s cat-suit, forcing her to stand up to her full height. From a distance of no more than six inches, she glared at her house guest, fury flashing in her dark eyes, although when she spoke, her words were those of someone calmly in control of the situation. ...

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 8) Chapter 9: Ice and Fire For Cathy, the last twenty four hours or so had been a rollercoaster ride that had risen skywards and plunged the absolute depths between both ends of the emotional spectrum. **** Having found a strange yet satisfying sexual fulfilment through Dolores’ efforts on Sunday night, she’d slept well for the first time since her capture, and had woken only when a sound from close at hand disturbed her slumbers. The memory of that brief but enlightening encounter was still fresh in her memory, as was Dolores’ assertion that Cathy would - given a few days - begin to enjoy her time spent in inescapable bondage. But was that true? Could she really learn to love the sensation of not being able to move of her own volition? Whilst the experience of last night did indeed shine brightly in her memory, it was no more than a solitary lighthouse beacon on an otherwise unlit stretch of desolate rocky shoreline. ...

“I don’t know.” “Yasmine, I need the money.” “But porn?” “I like to think of it as portraiture.” “Uh huh.” “With ropes.” “Oh, Christ.” “He’s very nice.” “Meaning?” “Meaning he’s very nice. Kind of fatherly.” “Kind of like an old pervert.” “No! He’s not.” “Uh huh. So when are you going to do this.” “In about 30 minutes.” “Today?!” “Well, yeah.” “Where?” “At his place.” “I’m coming with you.” “Oh?” ...