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1903, Lasënbourg Catriona shifted in the coach’s seat, feeling the strain on her buttocks from the long ride since they got off the train in Munich. “Are we nearly there, Miss Otto?” “Cease your prattle.” Her mouth dropped open at the sharp
rebuke from the older woman. Catriona frowned, wondering what she had
done to stir Miss Otto’s ire. The companion had seemed like charm
itself from the moment she arrived at her relatives’ home in London to
see Catriona to the special school. As the journey wore on, she had
become less pleasant. Perhaps she had asked too many
questions. Her curiosity might have grated on the other woman’s
nerves. She bit her tongue, forcing back the sharp comment about Miss
Otto being her eyes. Instead, she smoothed her woolen skirt and shifted
yet again, seeking a comfortable spot on the hard seat. The horses
traversed the terrain at a brisk pace, rocking the carriage from side to
side. She would be relieved when they arrived in Stossburg and the
companion dropped her at the school. She sighed and gave up trying to
find a comfortable way to sit. Her thoughts wandered from the unpleasant
journey to what awaited her at the small school in the heart of Lasënbourg.
Aunt Victoria had assured her she would relearn everything she had so
easily known before the accident claimed her vision. Uncle Frederick
hadn’t said much of anything, but she was used to that. During the year she was forced to
live with them, the only time he spoke to her was to remind her to be
grateful to them for taking her in and to tell her how expensive she was
to maintain. Her mouth twisted as she mused she must be, considering her
relatives had already frittered away a large sum of her inheritance,
mostly on her spoiled cousin Prudence. She was under no illusion that they
were sending her to the school because it was in her best interests.
They simply wanted her out of the way. She stiffened as she heard the
horses step onto a different texture. It sounded like their shoes now
rang out against cobblestone, rather than hard earth. She could also
hear the bustle of a crowd and smell the underlying stench always
present in a city. She risked incurring Miss Otto’s wrath again.
“Have we arrived in Stossburg, Miss Otto?” “Yes.” She didn’t bother to
expand on her answer. She hid a grimace at the woman’s
abruptness. During their ride through London and traveling via boat from
England to Germany, Miss Otto had occasionally provided a visual
commentary. Again, she wondered what had caused the woman to change so
drastically. The carriage ride lasted another
ten or fifteen minutes, during which time Catriona repositioned her hat
by touch and tried to banish the case of nerves twisting her stomach
into knots. Her aunt had assured her of the school’s fine reputation,
letting her know it only accepted young women from the best families.
Victoria had hinted there was trouble getting them to take her, but
Catriona had ignored her aunt’s implied insult. She had tried to grow a thick skin
to their derogatory comments, having heard them so plentifully in the
past thirteen months. Catriona knew a great deal of their bitterness
sprang from the fact she was still more beautiful than their plain
daughter could ever be, even minus her sight. Part of it she attributed
to sourness that she had survived the accident when her parents
hadn’t. If she had only had the good grace to perish as well her
parents, she would have eased their burdens. Catriona sighed, reminding herself
of her vow to not think of the Bonners again. This school was a new
start for her. She had to focus on the positive, for she had dwelled in
the dark pit of her memories long enough. She might go mad if she
continued to live in darkness. But it was difficult to escape when
darkness would be her companion for the rest of her life. It was
impossible to forget when the knowledge pressed on her from the moment
she opened her eyes in the morning—and saw nothing—until she
eventually fell into a restless sleep at night. The carriage drew to a stop near a
noisy crowd. Catriona heard bawdy singing, raised voices, and angry
words. She could also smell alcohol fumes wafting to her, though she
didn’t know if she could have done so before losing her sight. Her
other senses had sharpened to compensate, but it was little
compensation. “Where are we, Miss Otto?” “I don’t want no fuss from you,
Fräulein.” The sound of the door opening accompanied her words,
before Miss Otto slid her wide girth across the seat. Seconds later, the
heels of her boots struck the cobblestone with a dull thud. Catriona shook her head. “I
don’t understand.” “It’s best you just accept
things as they are,” the woman said. “Come along now.” Fear paralyzed Catriona, making it
impossible for her to slide across the seat. “Please, Miss Otto,
what’s happening?” “Come out of there now,” Miss
Otto barked. She shook her head. “I should
prefer to go straight to the school.” She didn’t know where they
were, but she knew it wasn’t any refined school for blind young women.
Panic clawed at her throat as she began to wonder if there even was a
school. Miss Otto’s cold laugh answered
her internal question, even before she spoke. “You daft cow, there is
no school. Your family wanted you out of the way. Seems the young man
your cousin set her heart on has the eye for you.” She shuddered, imagining a life as
Barnus Townsend’s wife. She almost thanked her aunt and uncle from
saving her from the fate of spending the next forty years with that
small-minded prig. Almost. “I still don’t understand, Miss Otto.” “They sold you to me, Fräulein.”
There was a rustle of papers. “It’s all legal and binding.” Catriona gasped, clutching her hand
to her heart. “Sold me? Fo…for what purpose?” The sounds coming
from the building seemed to increase in pitch, and she swallowed
thickly. She had never ventured inside such places, but she knew of
gentlemen’s clubs and worse, where young men frittered away their
purses. This seemed like that sort of establishment, judging from what
she heard. “To please the gentlemen.
You’ll adjust soon enough,” Miss Otto said pragmatically. “You
might even come to enjoy it, Fräulein.” Catriona shook her head. “I
can’t. Please, you can’t make me do that.” The woman’s voice was hard. “I
paid good money for you. I’ve wasted enough time on this foolishness.
Remove yourself from the carriage, or I’ll have someone carry you
in.” She dug her fingers into the bench,
sitting tensely. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she held her
breath, listening for any sounds that might herald a way out. Instead,
all she heard were heavy footsteps, followed by the coach dipping
sideways as someone stepped inside. She screamed when large hands
fastened on her arms and dragged her forward. Her fingers slipped from
their death grip on the seat, and she was soon out of the carriage. The man holding her smelled of
spirits and sweat. He had a large frame, and his unwashed hair brushed
against her cheek as he slung her over his shoulder. Catriona kicked
against him, but he seemed not to notice as he walked forward. She heard
the sounds from the tavern getting louder, then the fresh air
disappeared, and the pitch of the sounds changed. She choked on her first lungful of
smoky air. The piano played a jaunty tune as two women sang a song she
never would have heard in the salons of London. She heard whistles and
catcalls intermingled with angry words and a lewd comment. She struggled
to hide her fear as the man carried her through the room. When he started climbing the
stairs, she dared to hope she would receive a temporary reprieve.
Surely, she could reason with Miss Otto. There must be some other duty
she could perform instead of whoring. She knew when they emerged onto the
landing because he held her straight again. She heard the sound of
giggles and drunken male voices as the man’s boots clomped down the
wooden hallway, landing with a heavy thud with each step. He stopped
walking, and she heard a door open. When he entered, she gagged at the
odor in the room. It smelled of unwashed bodies and
something indefinable. She could smell cheap perfume, probably used in
an attempt to mask the other scents, and the acrid smell of cigar smoke.
It seemed to be a stale layer in the air, and not fresh. “Please, sir,” she said, trying
to keep the tears from her voice. “Don’t let Miss Otto do this.” His only answer was a grunt as he
dropped her. Catriona cried out, preparing for
pain. Instead, she bounced against a sagging mattress. The air rushed
from her, but more from surprise than any pain. She heard his boots
clomping away, and then the door closed. She heard the sound of the key
twisting, and she screamed. “Please don’t leave me here alone.” Her heart raced, and she clenched
her hands together. She had no idea of the layout of the room, and she
feared being alone in unfamiliar places more than most anything these
days. Memories too easily encroached, and fear stole her courage before
she could muster any. She knew from experience that the panic would only
build, until she was sobbing and beyond coherence. It was a relief when she heard the
key turn again, seconds before the door opened. The hinges needed
oiling, she thought disjointedly, listening to several sets of footsteps
enter the room. “H-he-hello?” “Aye, she’s a pretty one, Fräulein
Matilda.” “Yeah, she is, Inga,” Miss Otto
said. “I paid a pretty penny for her, but it was worth it. She don’t
even need the surgery.” Someone gasped, and it was a
high-pitched, girlish sound. “Why not, Fräulein Matilda?” Catriona shrank away as they
surrounded her, hovering too close for her comfort. Their perfumes
clashed together in a disorienting cloud of stench, not adequately
masking their unwashed states. They all smelled of that scent she
couldn’t identify. “What’s happening?” They ignored her. Miss Otto said,
“She’s blind. Some accident—I didn’t get the specifics. All I
know is it took her sight and her ability to provide heirs.” She
laughed, but it held little amusement. “She’s a Godsend, right,
girls?” They made various sounds of
agreement. Tears pricked Catriona’s eyes at the reminder of her shame,
and she hung her head. She flinched when someone touched her cheek and
tried to dodge as one took her hat, pulling out several strands of her
hair by forgetting to remove the hatpin first. She whimpered. “Can I have this, Fräulein
Matilda?” “You may, Bettina. Fräulein
High-and-Mighty won’t be needing it.” The older woman cackled. Catriona felt fingers in her hair,
loosening the pins that held her knot. “She has pretty hair,” the
other girl said. “I’ve never seen a shade like this. What’s it
remind you of?” “The bronze lions guarding
Midnight Manor,” said the girl who had stolen her hat, and there was a
hint of fear in her voice. Miss Otto made a strange sound.
“Don’t tell me you girls have been lurking around Midnight Manor,
waiting for a peek of Herr
Midnight. I thought you had better sense, Inga, Bettina. There’s no
accounting for the oddities of the wealthy. He’s nothing but a fancy
fop. No mystery there, I’ll tell you.” “Yes, Fräulein Matilda,” the
girl with the deeper voice said. “It’s just—“ The other girl interrupted, “The
Fräulein’s eyes remind me pennies.” “What is pennies?” a girl
asked. Catriona thought she was the one who had gasped. “American money. A gentleman
showed me one once.” “Bet that wasn’t all he showed
you.” The girl snickered. “Do you think Fräulein
High-and-Mighty will faint the first time she feels a cock?” the
girlish girl asked before giggling. Catriona winced at the callous
remark. She couldn’t believe she was in a brothel, let alone the
property of the brothel’s madam. She knew Victoria and Frederick had
little use for her, but she had never realized they hated her. How else
could they have consigned her to this fate, if they didn’t despise
her? “I think she has the makings of a
fine whore,” Miss Otto said. “There’s something about her prissy
attitude, something beneath the surface. I bet she’ll be panting to
fall back with her legs in the air in no time.” “You’re wrong,” Catriona
snapped, pushed beyond her endurance. “I won’t stay here, and I’ll
never be like you whores.” The word burned on her tongue, and she
added as much distaste as she could interject into the single word. She
cried out when someone slapped her hard on the cheek. “Keep a civil tongue, Fräulein,
lest I cut it out. I think we’ll give you a very special customer
tonight, to show you your place.” Miss Otto’s pitch changed,
indicating she had turned her head. “Is Freiherr Müeller coming
tonight, Inga?” “Yes, Fräulein Matilda. He comes
every other Saturday, hoping for a new girl.” Miss Otto’s laugh sent chills up
Catriona’s spine. “Excellent. Shall we prepare the Fräulein for her
night of passion?” Catriona tried to fight them as
three pairs of hands pulled her from the bed. She grunted when they
lifted her, and she started screaming. “Keep practicing, Fräulein
Catriona,” Miss Otto said with evident relish. “The Freiherr loves
to hear his companions scream.” “I’ll be glad it’s not me,”
the older girl whispered. “I didn’t walk for near a week the last
time I serviced the Freiherr.” Catriona’s stomached tied itself
in knots as they left the room she had been in and walked down the hall.
The floorboards creaked under Miss Otto’s weight, and she fervently
prayed that the floor would break under them. Death didn’t seem like a
bad way of escaping her fate. They entered another room, and
Catriona was set on her feet. She uttered a protest when hands pulled at
her wool traveling jacket, taking it from her. The indignities didn’t
end there. Between the three women, they soon had her stripped to her
corset and drawers. Catriona tried holding onto the bone corset, but
they removed it effortlessly. She grasped the waistband of her drawers,
but someone ripped the fine lawn from her body, leaving her naked and
shivering. She heard someone turn something
that creaked, followed by the sound of water rushing into a porcelain
basin or tub. She was surprised the whorehouse could afford indoor
plumbing, but that thought fled from her when she felt herself pushed
back into the water. “Part her legs. Let’s see what
I paid for.” She screamed and thrashed against
their hands, splashing water all over herself and the two girls as they
pried apart her legs. Her screams intensified when she felt fingers as
thick as sausages invading her pussy. One pushed inside her, making her
gasp at the sharp pain accompanying it. Miss Otto made a sound of pleasure.
“She’s pure, just as the aunt assured me. The Freiherr will be
doubly pleased.” “She has pretty tits,” the
girlish one said. “Look at her pale pink nipples.” “Ladies’ breasts,” the older
one said, with a mocking inflection in her thick accent, before
dissolving into giggles. She followed her comment by twisting one of
Catriona’s nipples hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Freiherr Müeller will leave
mark them with shades of black and blue,” Miss Otto predicted as she
withdrew her hand. Catriona huddled in the tub,
squeezing her legs shut, and giving into the tears. She heard the girls
teasing her for crying, but she ignored them. She wouldn’t find
sympathy with this heartless bunch, and what difference did it make if
she gave into her fears? Once the dreaded Freiherr finished with her,
she wouldn’t be the same. He would ruin her, just as they were ruined. “Finish her up, girls, and then
get back downstairs. The men will be getting impatient with just Patrice
and Marta entertaining them. Leave Fräulein High-and-Mighty locked in
the room she’ll be sharing with Marta, until the Freiherr arrives.” Catriona heard the horrible woman
leave, but she didn’t lift her head. She didn’t try to plead with
the girls as they went about washing her with strong-smelling soap, even
when they invaded her personal areas. Whatever goodness might have once
been in them had been burned away under the ownership of Miss Otto. She
wondered if she would end up just like them. That thought frightened her
almost as much as whatever tortures awaited her at the Freiherr’s
hands.
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