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CHAPTER FOUR - Madam's Place

The next day I waited until late afternoon before leaving my hotel. I had in mind that this was the best time to go in search of Rachel Joyce, and so it proved to be.
I called a taxi from the hotel foyer, and when it arrived I asked the driver to take me to the address on the piece of paper given to me by Sheila the night before. I only gave the driver the street name, and he dropped me off on the corner. By the way he sped away, and the general rundown appearance of the area, I guessed that it was the sort of district not recommended to hang around for too long.
I walked the street looking for the number on the piece of paper. All the houses were the same on both sides. They were those old Victorian terrace houses with a low wall at the front and about six feet of garden just big enough to hold a few rubbish bins.
There were kids playing in the road. Some were just three or four years old, others were a lot older and should have been at school. I kept my distance for I guessed they'd probably all got knives, or something to club me with before running off with my wallet. I guess luckily it was still daylight otherwise I could well have been set upon.
To keep you fully in the picture, I did not go into this with my eyes closed, and I'm not talking about being beaten up in the street by kids - I'm a black-belt at karate and can handle myself in a brawl - I'm talking about the address I was looking for. I already knew this to be a rough area, and a street where prostitution was rife. I also expected the address I'd been given to be a brothel of some sorts. So I'd dressed and set out hopefully looking like a typical punter. I wore a raincoat that fitted the bill, and perhaps that's the reason why I was allowed to pass by unscathed.
Anyway, I found the house I was looking for and approached the front door by climbing several steps to a porch. I rang the bell and waited.
A short, tubby woman of advancing years answered the door. Her face bore ten layers of make-up to hide the wrinkles, and her lipstick made her mouth look like something from a Picaso painting. She looked at me quizzically. I was obviously someone she'd not met before, and I could see that a cautious approach was needed if I was ever to gain access to the premises.
"Yes, what can I do for you?" she asked rather bluntly.
I decided to just generalise upon the situation to start with. I showed her my piece of paper with her address on it.
"I was given this address by a friend. You come highly recommended," I told her.
I don't think the woman could read without her glasses, for she squinted hard as I held the paper up to her face.
"Who gave you that?" she asked.
"It was a friend of Rachel's," I answered. "I'm told she works here, and that I might get to see her."
The woman looked mystified. I got the impression that Rachel wasn't here, or if she was then she didn't have many friends.
"What do you want then?" she asked gruffly after giving the matter some thought.
It was time for me to reveal what little I already knew about Rachel Joyce. I just crossed my fingers and hoped that this was really a house of ill repute and not her grandmother's home, otherwise the situation might have turned a little embarrassing.
"A session with Rachel. She used to do me at the massage parlour before she was sent down. We go back a long way, me and Rachel, and I'd sure like to see her again," I explained.
The woman thought for a moment then opened up the door wide. I guess my explanation sounded plausible, and in a way it ought to have been, since most of it was the truth.
"You'd better come in and wait then," she told me. "Rachel's with another client at the moment. But if you're prepared to wait a bit, she won't be much longer."
I smiled and entered.
"What's your name then?" she asked as she closed the door behind me.
"Mr. Smith," I told her, then added: "and yours?"
The woman looked at me as if to say it's none of your business, then simply nodded her head.
"Mr. Smith hey!" she remarked rather snidely, "you can just call me Madam. Everyone else does."
I guess I was about the ten-thousandth Mr. Smith to appear in her life, so I understood the indifference. Anyway, the formalities were over, and we knew what to call each other from now on, that was the main thing.
From the hallway I was taken into a room with easy chairs and told to sit down and wait. The woman then left me in the room alone. This was the front room to the house that looked back out into the street, though the view was obscured by lace curtains. The room was probably quite posh at one point in its long history, but now the fireplace had been boarded up and replaced by a gas fire. The armchairs were a little tatty too, the wallpaper faded and the carpet showed signs of several cigarette burns.
There was a great pile of pornographic magazines on a low table so I picked one up and began to browse through it. It was a glossy BDSM magazine, in fact on closer inspection I discovered that all of them in the pile were of the same topic, which made me a little suspicious as to the true nature of this premises. I was also aware that the sound proofing in the building was not up to much, because, from below my feet, somewhere down in the cellar, I could hear the sound of whiplash striking flesh, and accompanied by low, muffled screams of pain.
Listening through the thin floorboards, the sound of beating ceased after about five minutes and I heard footsteps climbing stairs to the hallway beyond the room where I sat. I listened to voices. It was a male voice speaking to the madam of the house. I could not quite make out what they were talking about, but it sounded like the normal 'thanks for coming and I'll see you again next week' type of conversation. I also think the man's name was Mr. Smith. It was either that or she was telling him about me.
Anyway, I waited until I heard the front door open and the man let out before opening up my own door and peering out into the hallway.
The woman was just closing the front door when I appeared. She turned round and looked at me, then gave me the stare that said she was not ready for me yet. In fact, she went on to tell me so.
"Rachel's finished with her client, but she's still down in the dungeon. I'll need time to get her ready for you Mr. Smith," she told me.
I'd been sitting listening to what was happening down below, and I guessed Rachel probably needed reviving, and her wounds attending to before she was fit enough to endure yet another punishing session. I wondered how long that would take.
"Is she in a bad way then?" I asked and trying to sound concerned.
The woman shook her head, which was surprising.
"The last client's usually pretty good with the girls. He uses a soft whip, so she'll not be hurt much, but he always leaves his girls chained up. I'll need to go down and release her before you can start your own session Mr. Smith," she explained.
I decided not to wait. I reckoned it was probably to my own advantage if I could start my questioning without having to bother to go through all those preliminaries. I decided to get straight down to business.
"You needn't bother to release her. I'll do that myself. Just tell me how much for an hour if I take her just the way I find her?" I said and putting a proposition to her.
The woman looked bemused. She'd obviously not had this sort of request before.
"What are you into Mr. Smith? What do you intend to do?" she asked.
It was my turn to look bemuse.
"Spanking?.. Whipping?.. Bondage?" she prompted.
"Just bondage," I told her, "I'm not into any brutality."
"Any sex? Intercourse?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"No, just bondage," I repeated.
Madam smiled, possibly with relief for Rachel, but I could not tell for certain.
"Well Mr. Smith, we charge two hundred and fifty pounds an hour for bondage and use of the dungeon, regardless of how you start," she said after giving the matter some thought.
I opened out my wallet and counted out the money into her hand.
She took it, gripped the notes tightly, then smiled gratefully.
"Well Rachel's down below in the dungeon," she said pointing to the cellar door, "if you've not been down there before I'd best take you down and explain a few things."
I stood to one side and let the woman lead the way. She move to the door, opened it up and then proceeded to descent the stairs on the other side. At the bottom there were two doors, one to the left, the other to the right. I was taken through the door to the left. It was not a very big room, and the ceiling was not very high. There was an X-frame against the far wall, and eye-bolts and chains affixed to the other three walls of the room. Otherwise, apart from a rather battered old cupboard next to the door, there was nothing else to the room. There were no windows, no furniture, the walls were of exposed brickwork and the floor made up of large, red square quarry tiles. I guess it wasn't your typical dungeon, but all the same, it did have an air of gloom and doom about it.
A leggy, dark-headed girl was chained to one of the walls. She was naked and spreadeagled, and facing the wall so I could not see her face. Her arms and legs were outstretched, held there by chains and manacles. From the presence of two straps about her head I presumed that she was both gagged and blindfolded. Furthermore, her backside, buttocks and rear of her legs were marked with thin red stripes, presumably put there by her previous client, and she was slumped down, taking all of her weight on her arms. My first impression was that she hung there unconscious, but as it turned out I was mistaken.
"Rachel, I've someone here to see you. Someone from your massage parlour days," Madam informed the spreadeagled girl.
Rachel raised up her head, then moved to take her weight on her feet. As she righted herself and her face turned a little my way, I could now confirm that she had a bright red ball-gag in her mouth and a black blindfold across her eyes.
Madam raised up her hands with the intention of removing the ball-gag, but I stopped her quickly.
"No! Leave her just the way she is please Madam," I said and interrupting, "I can take over from here."
Seeing that Rachel had never set eyes on me before, I intended to make the most of the situation and keep it that way until Madam was gone.
Madam looked at me, dropped her hands, then walked over to the cupboard stood against the wall next to the door. She opened up the doors to show me what was inside. I knew what to expect and was not disappointed. It was full of whips and a fair assortment of bondage equipment. From off the top shelf she handed me a bunch of keys.
"Take these then Mr. Smith. These bigger keys will unlock Rachel's chains, and these smaller ones fit the handcuffs here inside the cupboard if you ever come to use them," she explained.
I took the bunch of keys from her, and bounced them up and down in my hands.
"Thank you Madam," I said with a smile.
Madam returned the smile then turned to face the cupboard.
"There are whips, blindfolds, ball-gags, and whatever else takes your fancy in here Mr. Smith," she explained and pointing in turn to the various items stacked on the cupboard shelves.
I tried to rush matters on.
"Thank you Madam, that will be all," I told her, "I think I can manage for myself from now on."
Madam moved to the door, then turned to face me.
"Just call up the stairs if you need anything Mr. Smith," she said.
I nodded my head.
"I will do," I told her.
Madam smiled and moved out of the cellar room to the bottom of the stairs.
"Then have a nice time Mr. Smith, and I'll be back down in one hours time," she called as she began to climb the stairs.
I pushed the door shut, checked the time on my watch, then turned to Rachel. I tossed the bunch of keys up and down in my hand once more, and wondered how best to tackle the situation from now on.
I decided the first thing to do was turn Rachel around to face the front. At least that way I could hold a decent face to face conversation with her, and also show to Madam when she returned that I'd done something constructive in my time down here.
I crossed the room to the wall where Rachel was chained, and from the rear looked her naked body up and down. Apart from the lash-marks all down her back, the one other noticeable thing about her body, was her arms. There were needle marks everywhere. Both arms looked like they'd been used for pin cushions. It was at this point I realised just how much Rachel was into drugs, and I felt a little sorry for her. It seemed such a waste of life.
After a moment's reflection on what might have been, I set about unlocking her chains. It was hard to accept, but I kept telling myself that Rachel was not my concern. Judy Jones was, and I just hoped that the girl I was looking for had not taken the same slippery path to ruin and disaster. However would I break the news to Ted and Mavis Jones?
I re-focused my mind before speaking.
"Rachel, I'm going to turn you around to face the front," I informed her as I removed a manacle from a wrist.
Rachel appeared to accept what she'd been told. She couldn't answer me anyway with the ball-gag in her mouth. She dropped the freed arm and began to exercise the wrist joint in a circular motion.
I undid the other arm and then the ankles. For a while she flexed her arms and massaged her wrists whilst I turned her around bodily to face the front. There was no resistance and she simply let her arms be raised and re-fixed into the manacles. Likewise there were no objections when I asked her to spread out her legs so as the ankle chains could be attached.
Once I was done I took a step back, partly to see the fruits of my labour, and partly to ponder on how to tackle my line of questioning.
As I stared at Rachel's naked and spreadeagled figure, I must note that there was one distinguishing feature on her body that stood out above all others. At first I thought it to be a blemish, or even a birthmark or tattoo placed just below the nipple of her left breast, but on closer inspection I could see that it was a brand mark in the shape of the letter 'H'. However, the mark was small and appeared to have been there quite some time. I decided to let it pass and turned my mind to other things. At the time I don't think I really cared how or why the mark was there.
Again, thinking back, despite my sad sentiments for the poor wench, I guess at the time I was also feeling pretty pleased with myself. Because here, in this depressing little cellar room, was stood before me the girl I had set out to find. She was standing naked with her back to the wall, and with her arms and legs spread wide, all held there by chains and manacles.
With Rachel's face partly obscured by the blindfold, and the mouth held open by the ball in her mouth, it was hard to identify this face with the happy smiling one taken three years ago in Spain. But this was the same girl all right, the jaw line, the dark hair, and the shapely body all matched perfectly.
I stepped forward and removed the ball-gag. She had been drooling heavily and a stream of saliva ran down her chin and dripped onto her breasts. I looked around the room for something to wipe her clean, but could find nothing. I decided to leave everything the way it was.
Rachel worked her jaw and licked her lips clean the best she could. I waited for her to finish before speaking.
"Hi Rachel, I know you, we've met several times before, but do you know who this is speaking?" I asked.
Now I know this was a lie, and because she remained blindfolded and unable to see me, my initial intentions were simply to confuse.
Rachel worked her jaws again, shaped as if to answer, then simply shook her head.
I gave her something to think about.
"Spain, three years ago?" I said in the hope that this would focus the mind on that 18-30 club holiday.
After giving the question some thought, Rachel shook her head once more, but this time she did consent to say something, be it only one word.
"No," she said.
My plan was to keep the confusion going. It's a method of police questioning that sometimes works.
"How about two years later at the massage parlour in Soho? You used to give me your specials. Do you remember who I am now?" I asked.
Rachel, after more thought, shook her head once more. Obviously she didn't know me, we'd never met before this day, but I was working to a plan that I hoped would come up trumps.
"We're not getting very far are we Rachel?" I told her, "you still haven't got a clue who I am have you?"
Again she shook her head.
"No, I can't place you," she said, and then shaking her head from side to side apologised by adding: "No, sorry."
My plan was still working. It was time to turn the questioning around to something she could remember.
"How about the holiday in Spain? Do you remember that?" I asked.
This time I got a positive response.
"Yes, I remember," she told me.
I nodded my head this time even though she could not see it. I gave her something else she was able to recall.
"And you must remember working at the massage parlour?" I asked.
Again she nodded her head.
"I worked there for nearly a year, and I met lots of clients," she told me.
"But you still don't remember me do you?" I put it to her again.
Once more she shook her head.
"No, sorry," she apologised, "you'll have to give me a clue."
So far, so good. Now it was time to bring Judy Jones into the picture.
"Well let's see if I can jog that memory of yours. He's a clue then," I told her. "What would you say if I put the name Judy Jones to you?"
Above the blindfold Rachel's brow furrowed. I could see that the question was giving her trouble. Eventually she answered.
"Judy?… Judy Jones?… Yes, I remember her... We shared the same room on that holiday," she said, "but I still don't remember you? You're not Spanish are you? You don't sound it!"
I put her straight.
"No Rachel, I'm not Spanish, but it seems that you do remember Judy Jones though?" I continued.
She nodded her head. I don't know how spaced out she was with the after effects of drugs, but a response seemed to be coming more and more laborious.
"Yes, I remember Judy," she told me after a while.
I paused for a while before asking my next question. I thought perhaps a small rest was in order.
"Perhaps I can jog your memory a little bit more if I asked you where is Judy working now?" I asked eventually.
I watched as Rachel's jaw dropped, and I must admit the answer I got was something I was not expecting. Despite the blindfold masking part of her face she certainly looked very scared. She'd also come back to life and seemed to have more wits about her now than at any time.
"You're from Hendry's aren't you? Hendry sent you! What do you want?" she spat with much venom.
Now I must admit, it was at this stage my carefully thought out plan went right out of the door. My idea was to find out all she knew about Judy Jones without ever revealing my true identity to her. Rachel had remained blindfolded all the time, and had never set eyes on my face. At the time I thought it to be a cunning plan, but now I was convinced that I'd approached the business in the wrong manner.
For a while it was my turn to remain silent whilst I digested what I'd just heard. It was obvious to me that there was some sort of connection between Judy Jones and someone called Hendry. But what? And what was it that had made Rachel suddenly turn so bitter? I made a connection between the small letter 'H' branded on her breast, but concluded this was not the time to ask. Instead I decided to come clean and end the illusion. I stepped up to Rachel and pulled the blindfold up and over her head. I then waited for the blinking to stop and for her to get a good look at me before putting my real reason for being there to her.
"No Rachel, Hendry didn't send me. And we've never met until today. I was having you on there, sorry," I informed her. "I'm here for another reason. I'm looking for Judy Jones and I need your help."
I watched as Rachel's eyes focused on my face. I'd not seen her eyes before, but this was the look of a poor wretch with deep sunken sockets and drawn haggard face. It was difficult to tell that this was really the face of a twenty-one year old, she looked ten years older than that. I felt sorry for her and for her dependence on drugs. I opened my wallet and counted out one-hundred pounds in ten pound notes. I then held the money to her face.
"There's one hundred pounds here Rachel," I told her, "Just tell me what you know of Judy Jones and all this is yours."
Rachel shook her head slowly from side to side, then tears began to well up in her eyes. But the change of direction, and possibly the presence of money held up to her face, appeared to be doing the trick. She became co-operative and began to relate what she knew about Judy Jones.
"I don't know much," she told me for starters, "but after that holiday we both went to work for Hendry. But I didn't stay there for long. Me and Hendry didn't get on too well. But Judy did though. We kept in touch for a while, but I've not heard from her for quite some time now. But I think I heard she'd left Hendry's, possibly to go abroad. But I'm not sure. I'm sorry, but that's all I know. Honestly."
I pondered for a while over what I had heard. I guessed something like this would have happened anyway. Holiday acquaintances rarely last, especially if one of them then becomes drug dependant. But at least I had something fresh to have a go at. After returning from that fateful holiday in Spain, then running away from home, Judy Jones went to work for someone called Hendry. This was something new to my investigation, and a step in the right direction.
"Who's Hendry?" I asked. "Where did you work?"
Rachel looked at me through those dark, inset eyes of hers.
"You've never heard of Hendry's?" she exclaimed, and sounding as if everyone should have heard the name.
I shook my head. I decided to tell her the whole truth.
"Look Rachel, I'm looking for Judy Jones, that's all. I've been hired by her parents to find her, and I was hoping you could point me in the right direction. Just tell me where I can find Hendry's then this one hundred pounds is yours and I'll leave you alone," I explained to her, and to help I waved the money before her face.
Rachel thought for a moment, I could see that scared look returning to her face.
"Promise me you won't say who told you," she said.
I nodded my head.
"Your name will never get mentioned, I promise," I told her.
She bit at her bottom lip for a while before speaking.
"Hendry owns a club just out of town. It's just off the Oxford Road. It's a very exclusive club and very expensive. That's where me and Judy went to work after that holiday, but I don't know any more, that's the truth," she said.
I needed to know a just little bit more. I think I already had an inkling, but I wanted to find out in more detail exactly what sort of club I was dealing with.
"What sort of club is this Hendry's place. What sort of work did you and Judy do there?" I asked.
Rachel stared at me for a while. I could see that my questioning was slowly getting too much for her. She looked tired and exhausted.
"Submissive work," she answered simply.
I smiled at the answer. So Hendry's was another Hugo's, and Judy Jones, the girl I was trying to find, was another Sandy. All of a suddenly I was back on familiar territory.
I knew enough. I could track Hendry's down from the information she'd given me, one call to Hugo would do the trick, so I decided not to put Rachel through any more pain and misery.
"That's fine Rachel, you've been a great help, and for that this money is all yours," I told her. "Where do you want me to leave it?"
Rachel looked relieved to discover the questioning was over. I think also she was terribly appreciative of the money. I guessed it would all go towards buying her next fix, but that was not my problem. Her answer to my question however shook me a little.
"Stick the money up my fanny," she told me. "I don't want Madam to find it. She'll only take it off me. She'll say it's to pay back some of the money I owe her."
I raised an eyebrow at the request, but did as I was told. I rolled up the notes into a tight tube, fingered her fanny with one hand in order to part her labia lips, then inserted the roll deep into her crack. The springiness of the freshly printed notes expanded once the roll was inside and moved to grip against the inner walls of her cavity. Confident that nothing was going to fall out I slowly removed my hands, but not after a little rub of the clitoris just for fun.
"Try not to let the money slip out then," I told her once it was done.
Rachel smiled probably for the first time. She knew that the money was safe.
"Thank you," she said as I stepped away.
I returned the smiled then looked to my watch. So far I'd used up just fifteen minutes of my allotted hour. I considered the situation. I was of the opinion that, if I was to leave now, then perhaps Madam would get suspicious, and start asking Rachel some awkward questions. She might even come to discover the hidden money, and somehow I didn't feel that was right, even though I was fully aware of what that money would be used for.
I looked to Rachel chained spreadeagled to the wall. She stared back at me through those sunken dark eyes of hers. I felt sorry for her, and seeing my heart was not into punishing her any further, I decided to release her from her shackles.
I stepped forward with the keys in my hand and set about undoing her bonds.
As I unlocked the last manacle I allowed Rachel to fall into my arms. For a while I cuddled her naked body and held her head to my shoulder. I got the impression that a little bit of love somewhere in her life would have prevented this sorry situation. But I was also aware that I had no say or control over Rachel's destination. In forty-five minutes time I would be gone from her life, perhaps for ever, and I told myself not to be so sentimental.
I laid my coat on the floor and we sat down together with our backs to the wall. I held her in my arms and we stayed like that until the hour was up. I then kissed Rachel goodbye and scaled the stairs to the hallway above. Madam must have heard me, for she appeared at the top to greet me. I thanked her for such a pleasant hour then departed the premises.
On the street outside I took one final look at the house then set off down the road. The kids playing in the street had gone, and all was quiet. It was getting late now and darkness was beginning to fall, but I didn't think for one minute that they'd all gone to bed. I guessed most likely they'd be hiding up some dark alley waiting to mug someone. So I kept on alert just in case something did happen.
I moved on quickly. The kids had been replaced by women. Already there were a couple prostitutes hanging around on the street corner, and I expected the numbers to increase rapidly as the night wore on.
I looked for a taxi, but as ever when you're trying to find one, there are never any around, so I walked aimlessly for a while until I came across an underground station.
I smiled at my good fortune and entered the station. I was tired of walking.
On my way down the escalator I decided there and then that all this excessive leg work was getting ridiculous, and tomorrow, the first thing I was going to do was hire a car.
 
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End of Chapter Four