Teena: A House of Ill Repute (30 page)

'I - I'm not—' Paulie stammered, his face growing pinker than ever.

'Oh shut it, Paulie!' I snapped. 'The fact that you fancy the odd woman from time to time doesn't change a thing, and why should it? You are what you are, so you might as well be proud and enjoy it for what it's worth. Now, let's see if we can wake this here sleeping beauty, shall we?'

It didn't take much effort on my part; a few gentle stroking motions and the odd encouraging squeeze of his ball sack and Paulie's little soldier started to grow, until within a few seconds it was standing straight to attention.

'Guess what he's going to do with this, Gregory?' I leered.

Hacklebury's face was a mask of horrified disbelief.

'Oh indeed,' I continued, 'it's such a terrible thing, isn't it? Shame you never thought of that before, but at least you'll have plenty of time to contemplate the error of your ways.'

'You bitch!' he hissed through clenched teeth. 'I'll kill you for this, all of you!'

I reached out and patted him on the head, and it was funny to see the way he flinched at the approach of my hand. The bigger the bully, the bigger the coward. 'In case it had escaped you, Gregory dear,' I said, 'you're not exactly in any position to kill anyone, quite the reverse, in fact, and if you continue to annoy me I might just let Indira cut your throat at the end of all this.'

'You'd have to kill all three of us then,' he rasped. 'You'd have trouble explaining—'

'There's nothing to explain,' I retorted. 'Your two friends are quite happily playing down in the barn. We drugged them too, though with a different thing. They'll just think they're very drunk and in the meantime, Millie and Mandy will give them plenty to occupy their docile minds. They'll eventually fall asleep, of course, and when they wake up they'll just think they had such a good time they exhausted themselves. I'll just tell them you couldn't wait for them and that you rode off before first light. If your body is ever found, it'll be miles from here and weeks from now, so the authorities will assume you were attacked and robbed on the road.'

I released Paulie's shaft and nodded at him to continue stimulating himself. 'Of course, things needn't come to such extreme conclusions,' I went on. 'All you need to do is sign a few documents I've had drawn up, and then write a note to get Megan to come here with that so-called marriage certificate and then we can all go happily on our separate ways.'

'Documents? What documents?'

'Nothing too involved,' I replied. 'Just a full confession of what you've done - which I won't show to anyone unless you make me do so in the future - plus a document saying you renounce all claims to my estate, now and forever, and that you will not seek to interfere in my life or the lives of any of my friends.'

'You expect me to do that?' Hacklebury all but shrieked.

I nodded. 'Only if you want to escape from here in one piece. Of course, we could always burn your body afterwards. People disappear so often on the roads these days. It's a scandal, really, don't you think? And if we don't have to worry about your body, then we don't have to let Indira kill you quickly. I think she said something about cutting off your balls and then your prick and feeding them to you. Oh, the lady in white there is Indira, in case you hadn't worked that out yet. And she owes you big time, buster.'

'You can't hope to get away with this!' he yelled. It was a line straight out of a bad melodrama, but people really do say such stupid things.

'Whether we get away with it or not,' I said firmly, 'you're not going to be around to know either way, so it's up to you. And don't think you can sign and try to say afterwards you were forced to do so. That might work, I suppose, but we're going to get ourselves some insurance. You won't have heard of photographs yet, or if you have I doubt you know much about them. The prints are still a bit rough, but they're good enough so everyone who sees them will recognise you and be able to see what it is you're getting up to. Here,' I said, taking the print that Indira, right on cue, held out to me. 'Here's one I prepared earlier.' I held it under his nose.

The print showed two young women standing outside a house - our mill house actually, for although the image was grainy, Indira and I were clearly recognisable, and although the light outside had been better than it was in this room, the magnesium powder I'd had Erik buy in London would take care of that. All we had to do was set it off, click the lever on the rather cumbersome camera, and our French friend, who was currently staying at the hotel in Arundel, would do the rest in exchange for a fat fee.

Hacklebury's head slumped and he groaned quietly, but I grabbed his hair, pulling his head up again. 'What did you say?' I demanded.

He swallowed and ran his tongue along his upper lip. 'I said I'll sign your damned papers.' His voice was barely more than a cracked whisper.

I released my grip and stepped back. 'A wise decision.' I turned slowly to smile at Indira and wink at Erik. I then patted Paulie gently on the backside before clapping my hands. 'Right then, people,' I announced. 'It's party time!'

Epilogue

And that, as I finished explaining to Anne-Marie and Andrea, was more or less that. The photographs we took were not top quality and the majority of them didn't even print properly, as we had trouble synchronising the flash with the shutter, but those that did come out were more than enough for my purpose. Hacklebury would not risk them being circulated in society, not when they showed him dressed the way we had dressed him, and one clearly illustrated the moment when Paulie first thrust into him, with another shot, taken later, showing him bound to the cross and Paulie bringing him to a climax with his hand.

In the end we kept Hacklebury with us for a total of four days, much of which time he spent strapped in the chair with the dildo preventing him from shifting about and the straps preventing him from rising. In due course Megan arrived, complete with the false marriage certificate, which I locked away as potential evidence, together with a statement from Maudie regarding her part in the deception. Megan at first refused to sign a confession to her own role, but when we showed her Hacklebury and threatened her with an identical chair and a few other assorted options, she finally gave in, though as she sat at the table carefully inscribing her signature, the look she gave me was pure venom.

In the end Hacklebury was released to go to London and instruct the bank, though there was little left of the initial dowry payment he had received. Erik accompanied him, and together they went to see the lawyer who would be responsible for releasing the balance of my inheritance on my coming birthday. Papers were drawn up and notarised and my fortune was removed from the Hacklebury clutches for evermore.

Meanwhile, as added insurance, we kept Megan with us. She spent the five days in the barn wearing the dog suit that first I and then Maudie had suffered in, for Simeon Marsh had brought the hateful garment with him in case we needed it as further proof of the cruelty that had been inflicted upon us. Paulie - who eventually entered into the spirit of things and expressed a desire to remain with us for a little while - was given the job of dog handler. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say he carried out his duties with all diligence, and that by the time Megan finally left with Hacklebury, she was walking a little gingerly.

And so all was well that ended well, although I suspected this would not be the final ending. Neither Hacklebury nor Megan would dare try anything openly, but neither was the type to take defeat graciously, and Megan in particular was the embodiment of evil, so I knew we would have to be careful and watch our backs. Whether or not it would be Angelina on her own now, or whether I would continue with my back and forth existence, I had no idea, but I knew that in Erik and Indira I would be leaving my ancestor in safe and loyal hands.

'So that's it, is it?' Andrea asked me when I had finally finished my tale.

'More or less, though I still want to work on tracing my family tree properly. There are still too many unexplained gaps and I'd like to find out why, if it's at all possible.'

'Work out how the wicked Hacklebury genes found their way down to you, eh?' Anne-Marie chuckled.

I smiled back at her. 'Funnily enough, that doesn't worry me any more. That's the one other thing I haven't told you yet.'

My two friends looked at me, puzzled.

I grinned. 'Unless something happened afterwards, which I don't think it did,' I explained, 'then the one thing I now know is that Gregory Hacklebury isn't one of my ancestors.'

'What?' they chorused in unison.

I chuckled. 'Apart from Indira's assertion that she knew Angelina wasn't pregnant when she got away from Hacklebury, I now know who did father her child - her first child, anyway, as she could have had others. While we were waiting for Hacklebury to come back from London, I started throwing up everywhere and getting these weird cravings for pork with cream on.'

'Ugh!' Anne-Marie snorted and Andrea pulled a face.

'Yes, I agree, not a nice thought, but I knew it could mean only one thing. I, or Angelina, rather, was pregnant, and because Indira knew her mistress had had a period since the escape, there could only be one father. It was Erik who was my ancestor, not Greg Hacklebury,' I concluded, beaming happily. 'Good old Erik. Could account for why I'm so damned tall, I suppose.'

The End (Until Another Time)

Author's Footnote

Well reader, there you have it, the conclusion of our Teena's first adventure in time, and good eventually triumphing over evil, as it must surely do in every satisfactory story.

Of course, as our heroine herself said, much remained unresolved, but then life has a habit of leaving loose ends around to trip the unwary. Perhaps Teena will one day unravel the twisted branches of her family tree, perhaps she won't, only time will tell and she seems to have plenty of that.

Will she go back?

Yes, most certainly, but whether or not it will be to that time or another, I couldn't really say, as she hasn't confided in me as yet. As I said at the beginning of this book, our Teena is a wilful minx with a mind of her own, so we'll have to wait and see what she decides to do next, or what fate throws at her.

I hope you've enjoyed reading about her as much as I've enjoyed the writing, and once again we thank you, Teena and I, for your support and loyalty through the three books so far. And so all that remains now is a promise and here it is, in the words, more or less, of good old Arnie...

We'll be back.

-oOo-

Enjoy
more of
Teena's
damsel in distress,
time-travelling adventures,
also
exclusively
published
as eBooks by us...

Teena Thyme

I nodded and opened my mouth to say something, but immediately it was filled for me, as Anne-Marie pressed a soft rubber ball between my teeth and buckled a retaining strap at the nape of my neck to prevent me spitting it out again.

'Oh, sweet,' she trilled. She came around and knelt down, so that she was looking up into my face. 'I'll have to let you see yourself gagged,' she said. 'A gag does make a girl's face look so gorgeous, I've always thought; makes those big eyes look even bigger.'

Born in the fifties, a child in the 'Swinging Sixties', Teena Thyme comes to adulthood in the even more outlandish seventies, a self-possessed eighteen year old with the ability to see the funny side of most things. Little does she know, when she inherits the estate of a great-great-great aunt she never knew she had, that she will need all her wits, resolve and downright bloody-mindedness in order to survive the trials of time travelling and the perils of being a woman in an age when men ruled - either with a rod of birch or a whip of leather.

Whisked back through the ages, Teena finds herself as the very unwilling pawn in the power games of the black hearted Sir Gregory Hacklebury, who is determined to marry another of her previously unknown ancestors and seize her inheritance, even if to do so means that he must kill the unfortunate Angelina Spigworth, whose body Teena is now inhabiting - a body constrained by corsets, abused by everyone she comes in contact with and finally, it seems, destined to be left to rot in a forgotten prison.

Thyme to Thyme

I struggled into a sitting position, no mean feat without the use of my hands, which were still trapped inside those awful disabling gloves, my wrists locked to the broad corset belt that was part of the suit. Then, grunting into the foul tasting leather gag that was strapped between my achingly distended jaws, I managed to stand up using the rough stone wall as support. Just as before, my feet were encased in those ridiculously high heels and I had to pause for a moment to re-accustom myself and balance before finally tottering across to where the top half of the stable door stood open, the bottom half locked and bolted against any hope of escape.

Eighteen year old Teena's apparent journey back through time into the body of her ancestor, Angelina, has left as many marks on her psyche as Sir Gregory Hacklebury's whip had left on her borrowed body 130 years earlier, and her encounter with the dominant lesbian Anne-Marie back in her own time in 1975 has asked even more dark questions and opened too many secret doors to the depths of her soul.