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  tears. There was no way out. What form would her "redemption"

  take? She lay, quietly sobbing, staring into the pitch black emptiness

  that engulfed her.

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  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE MANIPULATOR

  Lily slept fitfully in the cold, dark hours before sunrise, finally

  waking to the dim grey light of a late December dawn. She was so

  cold she could hardly move, her body stiff and aching.

  I'll catch my death of cold and perhaps that would be a good thing.

  The paltry light seemed to come from somewhere above. Painfully

  turning her head, Lily tried to look upwards. She lay on a large bale

  of cloth, not a mattress, in a small empty room with blank walls, a

  single door and a narrow, barred slit of a window, high on the wall

  above her. The smell of the room reminded her of the many weaving

  mills and clothing factories in Spitalfields. She was very thirsty and

  her hands and feet were swollen and quite numb, the harsh rope

  cutting into her tender flesh.

  "Help me! Please, somebody help me!"

  Her cries sounded pathetic in the stillness of the room. Her voice

  cracked with exhaustion and emotion and further tears rolled down

  her cheeks. Stumping footsteps sounded outside the door and she

  caught her breath and listened intently. A key turned in the lock and

  the door swung open.

  "Good morning, sweet little missy. Brought you some breakfast."

  Lily looked up at Poole, the hideous man who had abducted her in

  the night. He banged down a tray with a plate of bread and butter and

  a mug of tea on the bare floorboards then crouched down to undo her

  bonds. The relief was almost unbearable but it took Lily some

  moments to be able to move her limbs at all. They were locked with

  the twin effects of chilling and immobility. She looked at her swollen

  purple fingers and reached for the hot tea.

  "I'm cold."

  Poole grinned.

  "I daresay, little miss. It'll be warmer where you're going when

  you've had your vittles. Much warmer."

  He began to laugh, a mocking sound that made Lily long to throw

  the scalding tea in his grotesquely twisted face. She knew she had to

  90

  remain calm, to look for any opportunity to escape. Slowly, she

  raised the tin mug to her parched lips, feeling the steam from the tea

  bathing her face. It tasted sweet and good. Her entire body was

  painfully rigid, as if her bones were old iron that had rusted together at

  the joints. She watched Poole leave the room and heard the key turn

  in the lock. What next?

  * * * *

  Her abductor had been correct – it was warm. Very warm indeed.

  Poole had carried her down the spiral staircase to another much larger

  room, one that contained a glowing furnace. Instinctively Lily

  stretched out her hands to warm them before the fierce heat.

  "Don't get too comfortable, little miss."

  Poole was behind her, his powerful arms clasping her in an iron

  grip.

  "Stop it! Leave me alone!"

  "I have orders from the master. He thinks it's time you were taught

  a little lesson."

  Lily kicked and struggled but she was no match for the brawny

  manservant. Suddenly, she noticed a peculiar looking machine in one

  corner of the room. She had never seen anything like it. It resembled

  a steel cage containing a sort of little padded swing seat, a mass of

  intricate cogs and wheels and a long rod with an ivory shaft at its tip.

  Now that looks like one of those expensive dildos Charlie Dunn-

  Keith gave to Sophie.

  Before she knew it, Poole had manhandled her into the cage and

  thrust her into the narrow seat of the machine. Swiftly and brutally he

  locked her wrists into manacles above her head.

  "Now, my lovely! Let's get that nightgown off."

  Lily gasped as Poole drew a cutthroat razor from his waistcoat

  pocket. Obviously enjoying himself immensely, he flicked it open

  and began to cut through the hem of Lily's nightgown.

  "So easy to slit a maiden's throat, master tells me. Like a knife

  through soft sweet butter."

  Terror rose in Lily like a black tide. She thought of the murdered

  prostitutes she had read about in the newspaper. The girls at the

  91

  Snake Pit had talked about it, filled with fear. Her mind made

  frightful connections as Poole slit on, neatly ripping the fine cotton

  from hem to neck as coolly unconcerned as if he were filleting a fish.

  "That's better! Now we can see your pretty belly and tits."

  Lily was too horrified to move. Helplessly, she watched as Poole

  lifted her legs, one by one, carefully slotting them into two steel

  holders, reminiscent of the braces worn by cripples. She was trapped,

  totally unable to move. Grinning maniacally, Poole pushed a lever

  and the entire contraption began to vibrate, the cogs and wheels

  slowly grinding into action.

  "Oh no!"

  "Oh yes, little missy. Meet The Manipulator. It's a fucking

  machine, guaranteed to teach obedience. Even a trollop like you will

  have a sore cunny by the time it's done."

  Poole laughed and moved towards the furnace. Lily watched him

  open the door and shovel some coal onto the blaze within. She cried

  out in alarm as her legs were suddenly moved upwards and outwards,

  exposing her naked pussy to the long ivory shaft that shot forward and

  pierced her so deep and hard that she felt as if she were being

  skewered.

  "Mercy!"

  Poole grunted as he shoveled more coal into the furnace.

  "No mercy, little miss. You made your bed and you can lie in it."

  Again and again the mechanical dildo cruelly entered Lily's body.

  It was too harsh to be arousing and she felt herself becoming sore

  after a few strokes. The machine whirred and squeaked horribly.

  Worse, it seemed that the higher the fire in the furnace burned, the

  harder and faster the rod pumped, piston-like into Lily's body. Poole

  dropped the shovel and came to observe his captive's desperate plight.

  "You'll never want to be fucked again, little slut. You'll want to

  join a convent instead."

  Oh God, you may be right!

  Lily's pussy burned with the friction from the un-lubricated dildo.

  "This machine could even shaft you to death."

  I don't doubt it.

  92

  The speed of the thrusting rod increased to a fierce pace,

  mercilessly pounding into the helpless young woman's body like the

  piston of a steam locomotive. The blazing furnace began to fill the

  room with intense heat. Finally screaming out in fear and pain, Lily

  lost consciousness again.

  93

  CHAPTER XIX

  A PROPOSAL

  When Lily regained consciousness she found that she was lying on

  a chaise lounge in a smart-looking parlor.

  Where am I now, for God's sake? This doesn't look as if it could be

  part of that factory place.

  An ornate clock on the mantelpiece indicated that the time was ten

  past three in the afternoon. Where had the day gone? Had they

  drugged her? Heavy brocade curtains we
re drawn across the three

  sides of a bay window allowing just a slit of grey winter light to enter

  the room. A lamp burned on a side table and a fire leapt in the grate.

  Lily's head ached and she was vaguely aware of an odd sweetish

  smell. They had drugged her. Warily she tried to sit up, afraid that

  she would find that her limbs had been bound again but she was quite

  free to move. Looking down at herself, she realized she was dressed

  in a plain white linen shift, almost like a shroud. A few tiny spots of

  blood marred the pristine surface of the cloth. Her insides felt raw

  and swollen.

  I hate you, you hypocritical bastard.

  As Lily looked around the room, she noticed that there were

  various items of religious significance – a large crucifix hung in an

  alcove, several small statuettes of the Virgin Mary and a bookcase

  filled with Old and New Testaments and a wide selection of volumes

  on biblical themes.

  Am I damned for choosing the pleasures of the flesh? I don't think

  so. I think God is much more forgiving than some of his followers.

  Lily tiptoed over to the window and peered through the gap in the

  curtains. A small front garden was visible, containing nothing but the

  barren twigs of dormant rose bushes and a gravel path leading to a

  wrought-iron gate set into a tall privet hedge. The house was silent

  but for the crackle of flames in the grate and the soft ticking of the

  clock on the mantel.

  Could I escape?

  94

  Lily moved towards the door of the parlor and tentatively reached

  out to touch the handle.

  "I don't think that's a good idea, little one."

  Oh, Jesus!

  Lily almost jumped out of her skin with shock. The American sat

  in a shadowy corner of the room, almost concealed by in the leathery

  recesses of a high-backed wing chair. Lily backed away from the

  door, suddenly suffused with fury and hate.

  "Why are you doing this? You're mad!"

  "Am I? Is it insanity to desire purity in my life? Why, you look

  much more respectable in that simple gown, my dear. It has no

  ribbons, bows, lace or flounces. It is entirely plain. I like that. It has

  honesty and integrity. Already you seem purified."

  Lily was speechless. She gazed down at the expanse of bleached

  linen that made her feel like a corpse or perhaps an inmate of some

  dreadful institution where all frivolity and individuality were

  ruthlessly denied.

  "I hate it. It's as if I don't exist any more. As if I've been erased."

  The American smiled condescendingly.

  "You don't understand, Miss Lily. But you will in time. A few

  more sessions with The Manipulator and you will never again take the

  slightest interest in committing a mortal sin. I plan to take you as my

  wife. A vast undertaking but one I know will be profoundly

  rewarding for both of us."

  Lily stared at the man in utter horror.

  "Your wife! But why? You think I'm a whore, a 'demonic

  daughter'. Why should you want to marry me?"

  The American rose from the depths of the chair and Lily backed

  away from him until she felt the chill of the marble fireplace against

  her spine.

  "I want to save your soul, Miss Lily. Even your name speaks of

  purity. Why should the lily be gilded when she is lovely in her

  simplicity? When I first encountered you at that wretched

  whorehouse, I thought you were just like all the others, empty-

  hearted, hardened sluts. But you didn't want me to defile your body.

  95

  You clenched tight in refusal. I liked that. Denial. The Lord was

  speaking to you then, Lily, telling you to preserve your body from

  such temptations..."

  "Oh, you pompous fool! I was bloody terrified! You were choking

  me. I thought you were going to kill me."

  The American frowned.

  "Choking you? No, I was simply trying to drive the demons from

  your God-desiring body. Sweet Lily, I love you. I would never hurt

  you except for your own good. Don't you see that?"

  The marble fire surround felt like a tomb, its deep chill penetrating

  the shroud-like gown. The American bent down and kissed Lily on

  the mouth, his lips hot and dry as if he were running a fever. Unable

  to bear it, Lily bit his mouth as hard as she could and thrust him away

  from her with all the strength she could muster.

  "Demons!"

  "Get away from me!"

  Desperately, Lily threw herself at the parlor door and grasped the

  handle. The American was at her back, clawing at her hair, and she

  screamed as she tore herself free, leaving long strands of hair in his

  frantic grip.

  "No!"

  Somehow she reached the hallway and began to fumble with the

  heavy front door. Again her captor made to take her by the hair and

  she lashed out, kicking at his groin with the fierce energy of utter

  terror. There was an umbrella in a stand by the door and Lily

  whipped it out of its container and used it as a weapon, repeatedly

  beating the man over the head with it.

  "Let me go!"

  At last the door opened and she ran out into the cold December

  afternoon, screaming at the top of her lungs. The gravel path

  crunched beneath her bare feet and the latch of the iron gate felt chill

  and damp beneath her clutching fingers. She heard the American's

  sneering voice taunting her from the doorway.

  "Why, you'll be caught and locked up, my dear one. Just look at

  yourself."

  96

  I must get away!

  Lily pushed open the gate and almost fell out into the street beyond.

  Which way to run? It didn't really matter so long as she escaped the

  clutches of her captor. She didn't recognize the street at all, a genteel,

  residential road of tall detached houses. There seemed to be no one

  around to witness her plight. Should she knock at the door of one of

  the other houses or was he right – would they simply believe she was

  insane? Lily slowed to a fast walk, repeatedly glancing over her

  shoulder. He didn't appear to be following her. She reached the

  corner of the street and scanned the skyline for familiar landmarks.

  Ah, St. Paul's!

  The vast dome of the great cathedral rose up against the dull grey

  sky. Everyone she cared about lived within a short distance of St.

  Paul's. Sweet Rosina. Dear Sophie.

  I must see my darling Sophie again.

  Thoughts of the kind-hearted blonde brought further tears to Lily's

  eyes and she began to run again, her arms folded protectively against

  her chest to partly conceal the odd shift she was wearing. Did the

  insane really wear such a garment? Could she be picked up on the

  street and carted off to some dreadful Bedlam? She had to find a

  shawl or cloak, perhaps pretend to be a poor beggar woman.

  The dark December day was dimming quickly and a wispy yet

  insidious fog had begun to creep, miasma-like, from the great stinking

  river Thames. A shiver ran down Lily's spine. The fog could conceal

  her from predators but also shroud her captors should they decide to

 
come after her.

  Guide my way, dear St. Paul!

  Already, the huge dome of the cathedral was losing its definition,

  becoming softened like a watercolor in the fading light. The

  residential area swiftly gave way to a more familiar-looking street

  with shops and public houses. Lily bowed her head and shuffled

  along, the very image of some poor impoverished shoeless creature.

  As she passed The White Hart two young men stumbled out, full to

  the brim with drink, and jeered as she crept past.

  "Daft cow! Where's your boots then?"

  97

  One of them stepped in front of Lily and tried to block her way.

  "Please let me past!"

  "Look, John, she's quite pretty."

  The other drunk lurched forward and grasped a handful of Lily's

  mass of tousled hair.

  "Show us your face."

  Lily tried to turn her head away.

  "Leave me alone!"

  "Now, lads!"

  The publican's voice boomed out from the doorway and the young

  men drew back, swaying and laughing. Lily dodged past them and

  continued her flight into the ever-darkening day. A filthy old shawl

  lay discarded in the entrance to an alley and she snatched it up,

  shuddering with disgust as she wrapped its damp and dirty folds

  around her body. Now she really looked the part of a pauper and the

  strange cotton shift was far less noticeable.

  The gas lamps were being lit, jaundiced pools of yellow/grey in the

  thickening fog. The dome of St Paul's had all but vanished but Lily

  knew where it was. On she ran through the choking dirty mist.

  98

  CHAPTER XX

  AT ST PAUL'S

  Again and again Lily wondered if she heard soft footsteps

  following her but she could not be sure. The fog had turned the entire

  world topsy-turvy. Shop windows glowing with pretty trinkets left

  over from Christmas resembled luminous Aladdin's caves in the

  murky evening. The crowds pushed on, faceless as walking corpses.

  Once a hand reached out to grasp Lily's arm and her heart lurched

  until she turned and saw it was a blind girl begging on a corner.

  "Spare a penny for a poor blind girl, miss!"