Chapter One - Stephanie

 

'So,' blue-eyed, fair-haired Bryn asked Della as they sat facing one another in an intimate corner of the cosy cellar wine bar, 'what's the deal with this Southdown Refuge place you're going to tell me more about?'

Brown eyed Della's bobbed hair was artificially blond, full and curved about her head and cheeks with a fringe that swept down to brush her left eye. 'Okay,' she replied, 'Olivia and me - or all three of us, if you fancy giving it a go, will meet up at Andrea's shop on Wednesday evening to agree on terms and conditions. Then on Saturday we'll be driven up there by one of their staff. Apparently it takes less than an hour. Easy enough.'

'Right,' he shrugged, 'but whereabouts is the place? Andrea wouldn't tell me.'

'I don't know either,' she replied, lifting her glass, 'somewhere in the Pennines Andrea said.'

'But what's with all the secrecy?' he asked, raising his own glass. 'We'll know where it is by the time we get there, won't we?'

'Apparently not because the location has to be kept secret and everything about it must remain highly confidential. Andrea said there's no mobile phone reception there either and we have to go in a van without windows so we can't identify the route.'

Bryn placed his glass down and stared at her. 'No mobile phones and a van without windows! Sounds like it's run by the Mafia or the secret service. I'm not sure about this - no, Della, I'm not.'

'Please yourself, dear,' she said, 'but it won't cost you anything to talk to Andrea again will it? And if you decide not to bother then you just carry on as you are - without me, of course, as Olivia and I have confirmed with her that we'll be going.'

***

It was six o'clock on a dull, blustery Wednesday afternoon when Bryn left his shop to join Della and honey-blond, blue eyed Olivia outside Through The Looking Glass; Andrea's back street sex shop. All were dressed casually with the two girls wearing light topcoats. Della was about to press the bell button when the door opened. 'Come in,' invited Andrea.

Bryn had good reason to be wary of those searching, dark blue-grey eyes yet he was still intrigued by her appearance, her well made up, short, swept-back, frizzy black hair and crimson lips - and the manner of her attire. They entered and the door closed behind them. Andrea was wearing her skin-tight vinyl cat suit; once more a lithe and sensual, serpent-like figure in polished obsidian black. As the girls slipped off their coats and hung them from the stand, Bryn stared for enticing moments at Andrea's alluring figure; stared at her as a temple supplicant might gaze in awe upon an effigy of the revered deity. He wondered who she was trying to impress since the shop was at present closed to the public. If it was himself then she had entirely succeeded. Suddenly Andrea was staring at him. Was there mischief in her eyes? Bryn blinked, cleared his throat and peered beyond her into the gloom of the shop where the only light was from her desk lamp at the far end. Memories of his experience on the floor above when he had been rendered helpless before them, feminised for their amusement and masturbated into a wineglass were never far away. Worse still, Andrea's assistant, Danielle, had recorded the whole episode in full digital detail. Now those memories returned in lurid profusion.

'Is Danielle not with us today?' queried Olivia, glancing about.

'Not today,' replied Andrea, 'she is working at home on her posh computer building our new website to include some of the shots we took the other day.'

Bryn caught his breath and murmured, 'Huh, not all of 'em, I hope.'

They walked by the racks and displays of erotic and fetish attire that so fascinated him to where the cafetière and cups waited. 'I'm not altogether happy with this windowless van bit and being stuck in the dark for a one hour journey,' said Bryn as they sat at the table drinking coffee. Before Andrea's three visitors was spread the paperwork relating to their proposed employment.

'You will not be in the dark, Bryn,' she assured him, 'the van has a transparent roof.'

'Oh, brilliant,' he muttered. He placed a hand on his chin and thought for a while. Andrea's eyes were all the time upon him, a searching, mesmerising, dark-eyed gaze that all but confounded his ability to think straight. Her crimson lips were parted with a silent question that demanded an answer if only he knew what the question was. At last he said, 'Okay, I'm in. Mel knows all about the business so he can manage everything until I get back.'

'Quite,' said Andrea, 'until you get back. But when you do, Bryn, you will know all about Southdown Refuge so before you go you must sign to agree, as have Della and Olivia, that nothing will later be disclosed about the business. This will be a legal requirement. Della herself has prepared the paperwork so it is essential that you comply in full.'

'I guess I do,' he said, taking up the pen to sign, hesitating, applying his signature and knowing there would be no choice but to comply.

And before any further points arose, Andrea said, 'You will, of course, require materials for any work you have to undertake. These may be ordered on line but will be delivered to this address from where, Milton, will collect them.'

Bryn laid the pen aside and picked up his coffee but Andrea's eyes were still upon him as she held something out in the palm of her hand, saying, 'Bryn, darling, now you have agreed to join us you must wear our house emblem as a pendant. Look, it is the same as the little golden sun disk Della and Olivia are wearing. You will see others at the house wearing them, too. The girls have it as earrings but as a pendant you will find it quite discreet.'

'I'm not really one for male jewellery,' he replied.

'Oh, Bryn, put it on,' insisted Della. 'Who's going to bother?' Had anyone later asked, she would have had little or no idea why she had spoken out so forcibly to persuade him.

Bryn took the pendant from her and Andrea watched as he examined the clasp and fixed it about his neck so that the little gold disk glinted at the open collar of his shirt.

'Perfect,' breathed Andrea.

***

Early Saturday afternoon revealed a black van, rear doors open, parked outside Through The Looking Glass. By the shop door stood Andrea, at present more conventionally attired, in conversation with charcoal-grey suited Milton and the two girls. Bryn emerged from Bright Sparks, crossed the street and approached them with suitcase in hand, to observe Della and Olivia's cases had already been placed in the van together with a number of cartons.

'Ah, Bryn,' smiled Andrea, 'meet Milton; he will be driving you over to Southdown.'

Milton was of slightly better than average build, fair-haired, blue-eyed and some thirty years of age. The two men shook hands and Milton said, 'Nice to meet you, Bryn; glad you could join us.'

'I look forward to it,' Bryn replied, thinking how normal a gathering this must appear to the passer-by. Yet as he looked at Andrea, large in his mind loomed yet again the events of that Sunday in the bizarre realm above her shop.

They clambered into the van where fold-down seats awaited. Andrea stood looking inside and before Milton closed the doors she smiled at Bryn, saying, 'The pendant, Bryn - it really does suit you.' The doors closed and only a grey sky was visible through the transparent panel above.

'D'you know,' said Della as the van lumbered on through town centre traffic, 'I intended to ask how we removed these earrings and completely forgot. It's not the first time, either.'

'At least he can remove his pendant,' Olivia commented, looking at Bryn.

'Yes,' responded Bryn, raising hands to the back of his neck, 'I don't know why I agreed to it. It can come off now and I'll keep it in my pocket.' He drew the fastening around to his front and fumbled for a time before adding, 'At least I would if I could undo the thing.'

'Can't you pull it over your head?' asked Della. 'D'you want me to have a go?

Bryn tried then said, 'No, the chain's too short; see if you can undo it.'

Della peered close at the fastening, turned it about in her fingers then said, 'No, I can't even figure out how it undoes.'

'I'm convinced,' said Olivia, 'that they don't intend to have us remove any of these little sun-disk things until they feel like it.'

'Pity you didn't mention that in the shop,' Bryn remarked.

'Never gave it a thought when we were there,' she responded. 'Strange because I really did mean to.'

'Let's keep an eye on the time and count the number of turns we make,' said Bryn as the van revved and rocked at the first unseen junction. 'I'll try to work out the direction we're going in by looking at the sun so when we get there maybe we'll have a rough idea where we are.'

'There isn't any sun to look at,' commented Olivia.

'No there isn't,' added Della, 'it's another miserable day.'

'Yes, you're right,' he agreed, looking up through the transparent roof, 'then it'll have to be pure guesswork.'

***

The van was crunching gravel and slowing to a standstill when Bryn, peering at his watch, announced, 'Fifty-six minutes is how long we've taken.' The engine stopped. They heard the driver's door slam. Footsteps crunched then the rear doors rattled and opened. Bryn scrambled clear with his suitcase then with Milton he assisted Della and Olivia from the van with theirs. The three looked at the building and peered around at the mist-muted hills before trudging to the porch where the front door was swinging open. The cases were lowered as she appeared; a woman in her mid-twenties wearing a dark blue, short-skirted business suit. Her black hair was grey highlighted and swept back away from a soft face with striking green eyes set beneath fine arched brows. There was the hint of a smile on her full and sensual lips as Milton introduced her. 'Miss Freya, here are Bryn, Della and Olivia.'

'Pleased to meet you,' nodded Freya, though she did not offer anyone a handshake. 'Do come inside. I will show you your rooms, Milton will bring your cases through and as soon as you are sorted we will sit down for tea.'

They followed her into the dim hallway where Bryn was naturally drawn to the sway of her behind, the rear-split mini-skirt, her sheer stockinged legs and impressive stiletto heels. Every woman in his life of late seemed to be wearing stiletto heels but Bryn was not inclined to complain. He was as always impressed but at the same time wondered why any woman would contrive to appear so glamorous in such an isolated location. He now felt any misgiving over his decision to go there might have been misplaced. Even more assured was he when they paused at the door marked, 'Reception.' There Freya halted to point out the occupant, saying, 'Calypso is our interface with the outside world by telephone and on-line. Della and Olivia - your office will be next to hers, opposite the stairs and the lift. Bryn, your room will be on the same side further along the hallway. Upstairs is strictly out of bounds except for any maintenance work but our dining room and all the facilities you are likely to require are on this floor.'

Bryn, tempted to gaze hard at Calypso's compellingly beautiful face framed in long copper-brown hair and deep fringe, smiled weakly, gripped hard on the suitcase handle, nodded and turned away. But her green eyes were fixed steadily upon him with an expression that suggested she had been waiting for him, and for him alone. He drew breath and, with her face freeze-framed in his mind, the image of her eyes grew larger and faded as he moved on.

Directly after they had passed the stairs and lift, Freya paused again at a part opened door on their left to inform them, 'The dining room is in there. You will meet others of our staff and some of our residents. A number of those girls with special requirements are catered for in their own common room upstairs. Our consultant, Julian - Doctor Greenswood, is presently away in London on business but his assistant, Carla takes responsibility for his work meanwhile.' At the next door on their right she stopped. Milton let down the girls' cases and opened the door. 'Della, Olivia,' said Freya, 'this is your room. Milton will leave your things in here. Have yourselves organised and join us at seven o'clock in the dining room. You will find everything you need and more - yes, much more, so perhaps it might be as well if -.'

She was interrupted by the appearance of a figure with long, corn-blond hair who emerged from the kitchen a short way further along to the left of the hallway. Della and Olivia stared. Milton stared. Bryn stared even harder, mouth ajar, at the fetish-maid figure of Stephanie in her revealing, polished vinyl, flare-skirted uniform, small tray in hand, her walking restricted by the leather hobble at her ankles. Freya regarded her coldly, stepped promptly over and demanded, 'What are you doing down here?' She ushered the girl, tottering along awkwardly, to the lift. 'You did this deliberately, did you not,' she hissed. 'I should have had you confined!'

Stephanie gazed past her at Milton and the new arrivals. 'I - I just came down to get milk and sugar; we ran out up there.'

'Do not lie to me!' snapped Freya, slapping her smartly across the mouth. 'You have plenty of everything and we both know it. Now get into the lift and up to your room. You will be dealt with later.' Stephanie backed inside, peering out at the newcomers as the lift door closed. Freya returned to them, saying, 'I am sorry about that but it will need to be explained more fully sooner rather than later. And Bryn, you had better get used to it or pretend the likes of Stephanie are not here at all. Join me in thirty minutes in my office through the reception area and we will discuss certain matters.'

With the fetish image of the girl persisting strongly in his mind, Bryn entered his allocated room to find it light, modern and complete with large, wall mounted television. He placed his suitcase by the bed then stepped over to peer into the bathroom. That, too, was twenty-first century and considerably more up to date than the facilities above his shop. He unpacked his case with an uncharacteristic urge to keep everything tidy and in good order. The half hour was approaching when he left to stroll along the hallway to the reception, pausing to gaze at the spot where the girl had appeared. The reception room door was ajar and he entered, surprised but far from disappointed to find Calypso still at her desk and reading a magazine.

'Ah, Bryn,' she smiled, rising from her seat, 'you are here to see Freya. She is through there.' Calypso gestured to a door opposite her desk and Bryn, taken aback by her appearance muttered, 'Oh, er, cheers, thanks.' Once again he freeze-framed her alluring beauty, this time seeing her attired in a long-sleeved, high-collared, mid-length dress of stretch lamé that flowed molten gold about her slim curves. The pendant about his neck felt warm as she appraised him with an expression and a voice, a whisper within his mind that seemed to imply, 'I will possess you.'

He entered the office to find Freya standing by the drinks cabinet. 'Would you like a drop of wine?' she asked. 'I feel sauvignon blanc goes down well at this time of the day. Too early for red - or would you prefer lager?'

Freya's perfumed appearance also impressed him as he cleared his throat and replied, 'Wine? Oh, yes, that sounds great.'

She had changed and wore now her revealing, sleeveless red dress, deeply cut at the front and split to her nylon-clad thigh. 'Sit down,' she said, pouring two glasses of wine. Bryn noted that the bottle was already opened and had been placed in a metal cooler. He sat at the chair before her desk and waited, staring across to the window and to the hills beyond until she placed a well-filled glass before him and seated herself in the upholstered, high-back chair opposite. With her back to the window Freya was little more than a silhouette against the light. 'Now then, Bryn,' she began, her eyes fixed firmly upon him as he drank, 'there will be much needing your attention at the house, particularly the electrics, which are rather old. This is an area I wish you to address first and it will probably involve work in some of the upstairs rooms, which you may not otherwise visit. I do not doubt you will be tempted to - how shall I put it, interact with some of the girls. Stephanie you have already encountered; she is a nymphomaniac requiring special treatment. You will soon meet Sarah and Roxanne who are here for treatment also but assist in the kitchen and dining room. Their appeal is inevitable but unless you confine yourself to Della, with whom you already have a relationship, rather than Olivia you will find developments may not necessarily be on your terms. The sensitive work we undertake here at Southdown has particular demands. I know if you leave us your discretion is assured, not least through the situation you found yourself in at Andrea's shop so -.'

'Situation!' he interrupted, almost spluttering his wine. 'You mean you know all about -?'

'Of course, and that means at some point you may become involved with our research. As time goes by you may consider this as much a theatre as a refuge and yourself a member of the cast with a role of your own. It is as well you understand this from the here on.'

Bryn drew a deep breath. 'Huh, sounds to me like blackmail!'

He pushed his glass aside, still unfinished, as Freya responded. 'No, Bryn, it actually is blackmail if you want to look at it that way since we are obliged to maintain security by whatever means. Now, for your leisure time you will find there are country walks hereabouts, at least when the weather is clear, but the nearest public house is eight miles away and there is no transport except by our own vehicles. The previous owners of this house, a religious order, required nothing less than complete isolation, which is why we chose it. So finish your wine and join us in the dining room for seven, unless you prefer to eat alone. Oh, and Bryn, have Della and Olivia come down here now, will you.'

'Okay and I'll be there at seven,' he said, taking up his glass and gulping down the remains of his wine. He pushed back the chair and headed for the door. Calypso was no longer at her desk and as he crossed the room Bryn muttered to himself, 'I'll end up a nervous wreck with much more of this. God, I'll wake up soon above that bloody shop of mine and find it was all a dream.'