strained voice from the other side of the door. “No, please, not that.”
“That doesn’t sound understanding to me,” said Robert.
“Legs apart, Jocasta. Now repeat after me: I must not come…”
“I must not come…” Smack.
“Until the day of the moon…”
“Until the day of the moon…” Smack.
“Delivers me to…”
“Delivers me to…” Smack.
“The animal spirit.”
“The animal spirit.” Smack, smack. “Again please, Jocasta.”
“I must not come…” Smack. “Until the day of the moon…” Smack.
Robert looked to Georgina for some help in deconstructing the events on the other side of the door, but she just shook her head.
“You have to trust Regina, she knows what she’s doing. There’s no lasting damage. It’s part of the desensitisation process.”
“But won’t pleasure and pain get mixed up in her head?” said Robert. “It’s gone quiet again.”
“Release her, Wimple Two.”
“Thank you Regina, I’ve learned my lesson.”
“That’s not the lesson. This is the lesson. Up you get. Wimple One, arms and legs please. Make sure she can’t move.”
They heard the teeth of a wooden ratchet being engaged by the turn of a wheel.
“Oh my god, be careful. I’m getting splinters in my bottom. I have sensitive skin.”
“You are learning to control your autonomic system,” said Regina. “Now stop moaning.”
Robert looked horrified and grabbed Georgina’s wrist. “We can’t let the poor woman suffer.”
“It’s for her own good,” said Georgina. “And it’s really not that bad. I kind of liked it. Anybody but Jocasta would have been off the island by now. She’s had problems with tranquillisers and booze. She’s on three month’s leave of absence from her job. The deputy editor is covering for her. Jocasta told me she hadn’t felt a thing for two years but since she stopped the drugs everything has become incredibly sensitive. She only has to touch herself and… boom.”
Georgina’s diagnosis was confirmed by a crescendo of cries from the dungeon. Robert edged to the door so that he could better hear what was going on.
“Can’t we do anything?” he said. “Could we rescue her?”
“She’s on the other side of a locked door and the only other way in is through the shaft down from the courtyard and the steel door. So unless you’re Batman and you want to take on Ness single handed…”
Regina’s steely voice pierced the door: “Continue, Wimple One and Wimple Two, until she learns to control herself. Or would you rather leave the island, Jocasta?”
“No, please, I want to stay. I want… to feel the power… of the vagina spirit… one day.” Her words were interspersed with sharp intakes of breath as she desperately tried to postpone or better still cancel the approach of the next orgasm. Her gasps became rhythmic cries. Robert sat down at his desk but it was ridiculous to pretend he could calmly carry on his research. Georgina hovered, discomforted but fascinated by the sounds coming from the dungeon.
“Christ, I know it shouldn’t, but this is making me feel randy as hell,” said Georgina. “It’s like when we do group practice. One of us sets the others off.” She looked at Robert’s crotch and it was obvious that he was having a similar reaction.
“No, no, please no more…I can’t…oh…yes…yes…YES.” Jocasta’s instruction evidently still had some way to go.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Georgina. “I can’t listen to any more.”
Georgina led him up the stairs and along the courtyard to the spirit room, decked out in yellowish tapestries and scattered with cushions. Above the fireplace was a vivid painting which could have been a ripe fig or possibly a burst pomegranate. Georgina sat comfortably crossed legged on a big cushion. He stood and looked at her, amazed by the symmetry of her oval face. Shiny black hair fell to her shoulders then curled under her chin, framing dark eyebrows and red lips.
“That doesn’t sound understanding to me,” said Robert.
“Legs apart, Jocasta. Now repeat after me: I must not come…”
“I must not come…” Smack.
“Until the day of the moon…”
“Until the day of the moon…” Smack.
“Delivers me to…”
“Delivers me to…” Smack.
“The animal spirit.”
“The animal spirit.” Smack, smack. “Again please, Jocasta.”
“I must not come…” Smack. “Until the day of the moon…” Smack.
Robert looked to Georgina for some help in deconstructing the events on the other side of the door, but she just shook her head.
“You have to trust Regina, she knows what she’s doing. There’s no lasting damage. It’s part of the desensitisation process.”
“But won’t pleasure and pain get mixed up in her head?” said Robert. “It’s gone quiet again.”
“Release her, Wimple Two.”
“Thank you Regina, I’ve learned my lesson.”
“That’s not the lesson. This is the lesson. Up you get. Wimple One, arms and legs please. Make sure she can’t move.”
They heard the teeth of a wooden ratchet being engaged by the turn of a wheel.
“Oh my god, be careful. I’m getting splinters in my bottom. I have sensitive skin.”
“You are learning to control your autonomic system,” said Regina. “Now stop moaning.”
Robert looked horrified and grabbed Georgina’s wrist. “We can’t let the poor woman suffer.”
“It’s for her own good,” said Georgina. “And it’s really not that bad. I kind of liked it. Anybody but Jocasta would have been off the island by now. She’s had problems with tranquillisers and booze. She’s on three month’s leave of absence from her job. The deputy editor is covering for her. Jocasta told me she hadn’t felt a thing for two years but since she stopped the drugs everything has become incredibly sensitive. She only has to touch herself and… boom.”
Georgina’s diagnosis was confirmed by a crescendo of cries from the dungeon. Robert edged to the door so that he could better hear what was going on.
“Can’t we do anything?” he said. “Could we rescue her?”
“She’s on the other side of a locked door and the only other way in is through the shaft down from the courtyard and the steel door. So unless you’re Batman and you want to take on Ness single handed…”
Regina’s steely voice pierced the door: “Continue, Wimple One and Wimple Two, until she learns to control herself. Or would you rather leave the island, Jocasta?”
“No, please, I want to stay. I want… to feel the power… of the vagina spirit… one day.” Her words were interspersed with sharp intakes of breath as she desperately tried to postpone or better still cancel the approach of the next orgasm. Her gasps became rhythmic cries. Robert sat down at his desk but it was ridiculous to pretend he could calmly carry on his research. Georgina hovered, discomforted but fascinated by the sounds coming from the dungeon.
“Christ, I know it shouldn’t, but this is making me feel randy as hell,” said Georgina. “It’s like when we do group practice. One of us sets the others off.” She looked at Robert’s crotch and it was obvious that he was having a similar reaction.
“No, no, please no more…I can’t…oh…yes…yes…YES.” Jocasta’s instruction evidently still had some way to go.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Georgina. “I can’t listen to any more.”
Georgina led him up the stairs and along the courtyard to the spirit room, decked out in yellowish tapestries and scattered with cushions. Above the fireplace was a vivid painting which could have been a ripe fig or possibly a burst pomegranate. Georgina sat comfortably crossed legged on a big cushion. He stood and looked at her, amazed by the symmetry of her oval face. Shiny black hair fell to her shoulders then curled under her chin, framing dark eyebrows and red lips.
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