The Facility (31 page)

Abul signaled to Mi Jong who came forward to place a small leather box on the floor in front of Kathy. “Open it,” Abul said. “It is for you.” Holding the box, Kathy cautiously lifted its lid.

When she looked inside, she gasped, “Oh, my God!”

“It is familiar, is it not?” Abul asked.

“It’s...it’s the ring...the ring I gave to my husband on our wedding day.” She could see the inscription she had the jeweler engrave on the inside of the gold band. It read, ‘My Beloved Jeff’ followed by the date. Tears quickly formed and ran down her cheeks.

“I had my people take it from his dead body,” Abul said.

Kathy looked up at him, pleading with her eyes, “May I...may I keep it?”

“Of course,” Abul answered. “It is yours now. If you want to keep it, you can. I’m sure it calls up fond memories and has great sentimental value.” She stared at the ring in the palm of her hand, remembering that happiest of days, remembering the strength and gentleness of her young husband. Abul watched her and drummed his long fingernails on the wooden arms of his chair. Except for the clicking of his nails, the room was quiet. With the fingers of her right hand, Kathy touched the ring. Abul cleared his throat. Kathy looked into his derisive face. He was mocking her. She reached up and, taking his left hand, slid Jeff’s wedding band onto the ugly Pakistani’s third finger. If he was surprised, he concealed it. “I assume you no longer want to keep the wedding ring of your late husband? You wish, instead, to give it to the man who sent him to an early grave?”

“Yes, that is true. I wish for you to have his ring. I thank you for taking it from my husband. I thank you for accepting it from me.” She bowed her head again, convinced that she had won the last three contests. Abul struggled to control his growing rage.

After a moment, he turned to guests behind him, “I have a question for our female friends,” Abul said evenly. “Tell me, ladies, would you like more drinks now, or would you prefer to watch Mi Jong apply the riding crop to Mrs. Ryan’s painted nipples? What is your desire, Mrs. Withers?”

“I’d love to see the slut whipped.”

“Mrs. Heisei?”

“Whip.”

“And you, Mrs. Arhita?

“She is a disgrace to all women. Let her be whipped.”

He smiled and held up his hands, “The rest of you?”

“Whipped,” they said in a chorus.

“Finally,” Abul nodded to his left, “our own Madam Khe. A martini or the riding crop?”

“The martini can wait,” Madam Khe said.

“You heard my guests, Mrs. Ryan.” Abul pointed toward to stage. Kathy glanced at Mr. Satomi whose head was turned away from her as he whispered something to Madam Khe. The small woman between them, who was completely hidden under a heavy black caftan, had not uttered a word nor, it seemed to Kathy, had she even moved. Kathy tried to see her eyes behind the mask, but could not.

“Come,” Miko said and started up the ramp to the stage. Kathy, crawling behind her, followed. Mi Jong had retrieved the riding crop from behind the screen and joined them at the edge of the stage. Still kneeling, Kathy faced Abul and the guests.

“Clasp your hands behind your neck, and push your breasts forward so that they invite the whip,” Abul ordered. When Kathy had obeyed, Abul shook his head. “Your recent exertions have take some of the luster from the double badges you wear in my honor. Would you like to paint them again?”

“Yes, Master,” Kathy said. Miko handed her the small jar, which was very warm.

“Stir it up,” Abul instructed. “And put in more of your Master’s golden nectar.” The guests laughed. Miko gave her the plastic rod and the thin vial of Abul’s piss. Kathy’s hand trembled as she added a few drops of it to the jar. When she finished stirring, the reeking mixture was the color and consistency of a thick chocolate syrup.

Abul stood to address the guests. “My friends,” once more, he half turned to face the second row, “as part of her training here at the facility, Mrs. Ryan has learned to love two things because they make her quite hot... ‘aroused’ and ‘excited’ are the words she uses. Her sense of sight, her sense of touch, and her sense of smell have been conditioned to the point where she is easily aroused. Her nipples stiffen, the flow of her vaginal secretions increases, her clitoris swells, and her breathing becomes rapid. All of this is happening at this very moment, isn’t it, Mrs. Ryan?”

“Yes...yes it is.” Kathy still held the jar and the brush Miko had handed her.

“Tell us, what is the sight that makes you hot?”

“The whip,” Kathy answered.

“And the painful touch of the whip or the crop?”

“Yes, I have learned that being whipped...excites me.”

“What fragrance makes your cunt wet and your nipples stiffen? Is it the expensive perfume your husband bought for you?”

Looking down into the jar caused the same reaction as her morning ritual over the bowl. She could feel the heat in her nipples. She closed her eyes as it moved downward to gorge her clitoris. “The smell that most excites you?” Abul taunted.

“Not the perfume, Master. I...I...am aroused by the odor of your...your... urine.”

“Apply the brush now, Mrs. Ryan. Make your nipples glisten.”

For the second time, Kathy coated her swollen nipples with the foul mixture. When she finished, Miko took the jar and brush. Mi Jong stood to one side of Kathy, the riding crop in her right hand. She exchanged a quick smile with Miko. Abul was still standing. He looked to his right and left then back at Kathy. “We see that your long, black nipples are now quite wet. Did you want to do that for me?”

Kathy stared out over his head, “Yes, Master.”

“Are you hot? Very hot?”

“Yes...yes I am.”

“We’ve conditioned her sight and smell, my friends,” Abul smiled at his guests, “but, unfortunately, we’ve neglected to cultivate her sense of taste.” Kathy began to rise and was ready to protest, to refuse. She glanced at Madam Khe who nodded at her almost imperceptibly. Kathy sank back to her knees. “Mrs. Ryan!” Abul shouted. “You are my woman. Do you understand?” Kathy nodded. “First one nipple, then the other.” There was a murmur of disbelief among the guests.

“Abul,” Satomi raised his hand, “that is enough. Let her be whipped.”

Abul frowned, then quickly nodded. He realized that, so far, he had not succeeded in making her resist. He was sure she would have refused to lick her breasts. She was winning. “Mi Jong has waited long enough,” he said. “Take the proper position, Mrs. Ryan.”

Immediately, Kathy placed her hands behind her neck and, raising her head, she thrust her breasts forward. Abul sat back in his chair and nodded to Mi Jong. With a quick, hard snap of her wrist Mi Jong brought the crop down on the nipple nearest her. Kathy jerked, and let out a muffled cry as if someone had kicked her in the stomach.

Kathy determined that she would not scream. She squeezed her eyes shut. With each blow, her body twitched and she expelled short audible breaths. Mi Jong moved to the other side. Kathy’s nipples protruded even further as they were flogged. With each crack of the riding crop the wet garbage and urine mix spattered Kathy’s gown with black stains. The pain shot like white-hot fire from her tender nipples to the rest of her body. She wanted desperately to protect her breasts with her hands, but she kept them locked behind her neck. Mi Jong stood in front of her now, quickly striking one nipple then the other.

When it looked as if Kathy might pass out again, Abul shouted, “Stop, Mi Jong!” Kathy unclasped her hands and fell forward before regaining her balance. Her black nipples were crisscrossed with lash marks. Her gown was spotted and saturated with sweat. The whip had cut the material so that her breasts were fully exposed. Kathy, breathing hard, tried to keep from trembling. “We found that quite amusing, Mrs. Ryan. How did you find it?” Abul asked.

Kathy’s throat was dry, her voice a raspy whisper, “I’m pleased to have entertained my Master and his guests,” she said.

Abul signaled to Miko, “Take her behind the screen. Clean her up.” He clapped his hands. The music began and serving girls appeared bearing trays of drinks.

Once more hidden from the main room, Kathy lay on the plastic covered mattress while Miko kneeled over her, cutting away the saturated gown. Mi Jong then sponge bathed her with warm, soapy water. Kathy bit her lip when Mi Jong wiped away the remaining smelly mixture. “I did not whip you as hard as first time,” Mi Jong said, as she treated the welts with healing lotion.

“Thank you,” Kathy said.

“Not my decision,” Mi Jong replied. “Madam Khe say not to cut you.”

“What if Madam Khe had left it up to you?” Kathy asked.

“Would have whipped harder. Make nipples bleed.”

Kathy looked up at her, “Why do you hate me, Mi Jong?”

“Feel same as Abul. You rich American. Very pretty. Go to college. Have house. Have everything. You sign paper. Come here to be a whore. I would never sign paper. I would never choose to be whore. Men here, and maybe men all over, want to think women no different than animal. Like pet dog. You give up everything to be animal. Worse. Not even dog do what you do. You bring down all women. You make life harder for me, for all women. I would be glad to beat you until nothing left.”

It was the longest speech she’d ever heard Mi Jong make. “What you say is true, Mi Jong. I understand. I’m sorry I signed the paper. I’m sorry for the disgrace I’ve brought...”

“Enough talk,” Miko interrupted. She handed Mi Jong a big towel and taking one herself, they quickly dried Kathy then rubbed her with the scented oil. She was given another white gown. It was form fitting and made of silk with delicate lace embroidery and was slit in the front. On her feet they placed white open sandals that consisted of little more than thin straps and four-inch heels. Her eyes were heavily made up with dark eye shadow and mascara. Miko applied bright red lipstick and gloss. “No time to paint nails again,” she said. She went in front of the screen and nodded to Abul. He dismissed the serving girls as the guests settled back in their chairs to await what they knew would be the final test.

When Miko saw that they were ready, she took Kathy by the arm. “Go to the front of the stage. Bow head but not kneel this time. Abul will tell you what to do.”

When Kathy appeared, the guests murmured their astonishment at her remarkable transformation. She was astonishingly beautiful and seemed to epitomize American wholesomeness coupled with a shy innocence. Abul wanted her more than ever and determined once again that he would make her fail. “Look up, Mrs. Ryan,” he began. She lifted her head, quickly glancing at Mr. Satomi before attending to Abul. “Are you grateful for the opportunities I have given you this evening to show these guests how much you respect your Master?”

“Yes, I am very grateful.”

“Refresh our memories. In what ways did you acknowledge your devotion?”

“I pressed my lips to your feet and cleaned them with my tongue.”

“Did you enjoy that?” Abul asked.

“Yes, Master. It gave me great pleasure.”

“Go on,” Abul grunted.

“You wished to see me whipped and the whipping excited me because I know that watching me be whipped pleases you.” Abul nodded. “You gave me the opportunity to destroy the last connection I had with my late husband.” She paused for a moment to get control of her emotions. “I broke his gift and was honored to accept yours.”

“My gift?”

“Yes, the gift. I painted my...my nipples with it. After that I was permitted to...to lick your anus. That, too, excited me.”

Abul realized it had been a mistake to ask her to list the examples of her devotion. However, he now had to let her continue. Kathy also understood he had made a mistake. Trying to catch her off guard he asked, “Are you grateful to me, Mrs. Ryan, for murdering your husband?”

It was a moment before Kathy answered. She thought of what Mi Jong had said, ‘you had everything’. The best of that ‘everything’ had been Jeff. She looked squarely at Abul. “Yes, Master, I am grateful. As you have so often reminded me, my husband was weak. You are strong. My place is to kneel at your feet.”

“The ring?” Abul questioned.

“I feel honored that you have accepted the wedding ring I once gave to my husband.”

“Continue,” Abul muttered.

“Finally, Mi Jong whipped my breasts for your pleasure and that, too, excited and pleased me. Thank you, Master, for granting me these opportunities to demonstrate my devotion.”

Abul was silent. Kathy bowed her head again and waited. She heard a rustling in the audience and, looking up, saw that Swart and another servant were coming up the ramp with the chair in which sat the small woman draped in black. Kathy had noticed that the woman in the chair had neither moved nor spoken during the entire evening. The men placed the chair in the center of the stage. Swart remained beside it. The other man returned to the audience.

The black shroud, which covered the figure, draped down over the arms of the chair until it touched the floor, completely obscuring the body of the woman. Her hair was covered with a cowl that also hid the lower part of her face. She wore a black mask with tiny slits for her eyes. Kathy noticed that the tent-like covering was fastened by a single hook at the woman’s neck and was simply overlapped along its front.