We brought a reasonable detail of guards with us the next day, no more than Julian normally took. I understood now how important they were to us. If it was really that easy to take over our bodies using blood, we needed to be cautious at all times. The carriage stopped in front of the club and we got out. The guards surrounded us, even accompanying us inside. I heard at least one gasp from someone on the street at seeing me—a woman—enter the men only club.

The Pall Mall Incola Club was very different in the daylight hours than when the party had been thrown in my honor. They often had “the fights” there in the night but, in the day, it was much like any other gentlemen’s club on Pall Mall. Wooden planks had been laid over the sand and a luxurious rug rolled out over them. Tables and chairs for eating and various sized billiards tables had been placed on the newly enlarged space.

The maître d’ showed us to our table where Paetus was already seated. He stood as we approached and kissed my hand, saying nothing about the glove there. “You honor us with your presence,” was his only remark. We sat and were immediately served soup. It was the most delicate and delicious turtle soup I had ever tasted. Julian and Paetus ruined theirs with curry powder.

I jumped when a strange cracking sound thundered through the club. Paetus immediately made a gesture and several men scurried out the door, vacating the billiards tables. “Oh, you needn’t make them stop on my account, the noise just startled me as I have never heard it before.”

Paetus replied, “It is nothing, my dear Ramillia, to have them removed. They are here almost every day. You are a special treat. I would not have anything disturb your first meal with us. Next time they can finish their games, I promise. If you would like to make your visits a more regular item, I could even teach you to play.”

I have always loved learning new things and I remarked, “I would enjoy that.” He nodded in agreement.

Glancing at my plate, I was unprepared for my fish course. Answering my unasked question, Paetus said, “You have never tasted lobster? You are in for a treat. I like mine best with Dutch sauce.”

Forking a small portion of the white, fleshy fish with red designs, I slipped it in my mouth. It had a millet-like texture, grainy like prawns. I did not care for it and tried not to show my distaste. Paetus saw through my attempt and simply remarked, “It must be an acquired taste.”

Julian gave a good-hearted laugh. They finished theirs after pouring on a red spicy sauce made from peppers from across the sea. I did not.

The two of them spoke in a language unfamiliar to me while we ate our veal cutlet, asparagus, and peas. I was too involved with the delicious creamy sauce and light but crispy breading on the thinly cut meat to be insulted by their exclusion. They seemed to be exchanging pleasantries, not talking business. I assumed it was bawdy talk that they did not want to insult me with.

It seems odd that I remembered so many details of the meal from so long ago, however, this occasion made an impression. It was, as Paetus had said, my first meal in a gentlemen’s club. They were trying to impress me—and impress me they did. My nerves and senses were heightened as I tried to take everything in that I suppose I managed to achieve just that.

I was so full after that, I barely touched the main course, and therefore it did not lodge in my memory. After bringing out the game course, the servants and staff, indeed all the members, left en masse. We were alone in the giant club.

“That is better. Now we may discuss the reason for your visit.” Paetus patted my hand with his own. “Not that you need a reason to visit me or this club for that matter. This is as much your club as it is Julian’s.” He ate some of the juicy meat after rolling it in black pepper. “Tell me the problem.”

I looked to Julian. He spoke in hushed tones regardless of the club’s empty room. “Ramillia cannot get inside my body, no matter how much blood we exchange.”

“A switch?” Paetus stared at him and then looked at me. “You should be honored. We ride others. We do not let others ride us.” He ate some more heavily spiced food. “Who told you it is done with a blood exchange?”

“No one. Not that I can recall. Putting my blood into the body of another is how I move my consciousness. I use the physical as a root to aid the metaphysical. Is that not how we all do it?” Julian asked.

Paetus shook his head. “I have quite another means entirely. I wonder if we all must find our own way out of the body we are given and into another. Perhaps that is the issue. She has not found her way yet. Then again, the issue might be that a switch is not possible. I certainly have never attempted it.”

“It is possible. I have experienced it, though it was on, shall I say, less than consensual terms. That is why I kept my method secret,” Julian admitted.

Paetus bobbed his head once. “Yes, indeed. A blood exchange could easily be forced. I see your need for secrecy. I too keep mine secret, though I am not quite sure why. It just seems the right thing, to protect my mews.”

“Your muse?” I asked.

“M-E-W-S.”

“Isn’t that something to do with the royal birds of prey?”

“She is a smart one, isn’t she?” he asked no one in particular. “When you hear other people speak of the mews, they mean the place where the king’s hawks are isolated for their molting. The word mews comes from the Latin word mutate meaning ‘to change’.” He paused, as if thinking of the best way to explain. “It is better if I show you. I am intrigued and would like to see you test my methods…if that is agreeable to Julian.”

“What about protecting your method—your mews?”

“I trust Julian. If he trusts you, then so do I.”

We skipped dessert, coffee, and nuts. That was just as well because my appetite had vanished. I was anxious about what was to come next. Those feelings did not improve once I had seen Paetus’ mews. It was not a place but a machine.

Paetus took us into his private quarters in the back of the club. “No one, with the exception of my Carriers, have ever seen my mews, much less used it. Honestly, I am able to move over and control another body without it, only the transfer takes longer. I invented this; I don’t know how long ago. It is to aid me in concentration.”

The mews was man-sized and roughly rectangular, laying lengthwise on a platform. It was copper in color, covered in gears and tubes, and attached by several wires to a nearby stationary bicycle. “I will not explain its mechanics entirely. It allows the user to lock out the rest of the world and focus solely on their intended destination: the Carrier of choice.”

He rang the summoning bell and a second later the human woman who had served us food answered his call. “This will be easiest if you disrobe.” The woman began to unfasten my gown before I had given consent.

“May I keep my undergarments? My corset especially gives me comfort.” He thought for a moment and I blathered on. “I find the tightness and many layers make me feel secure. Protected.” I tried to explain.

“We can try it this first time. If it does not work we will try it again without.” He turned to Julian, who was drinking nearby. “Have you tried the exchange of blood while she is without her stays?”

Julian shook his head, speaking at the same time, “Never saw any need.”

“I suggest you try that also. It may be that the undergarments of this era somehow contain her. I am merely thinking aloud of every possible inhibitor that could have an effect.” Paetus spoke to the woman in a foreign tongue. She stopped undressing me when we were down to a few layers. She left after carefully hanging my dress.

Paetus helped me onto the seat of the bicycle, instructing me as I pedaled. “Ride a minute for two reasons. One, it will give you the muscle memory of it. Two, it heats the water inside, making it easier for you to lose your sense of feeling when you are floating.” He pointed to a small barometer on the bicycle’s bar. “When this gets to the red line, it is ready. You’ll climb into the chamber and I will close it over you. There is sufficient salt in the water to keep you afloat without any effort on your part.” He turned to Julian remarking, “Just like when we swam in the Dead Sea.” Then he focused his attention upon me again. “It will be dark and you won’t be able to hear anything. Just lay there and clear your mind. Julian will be on the cycle since he is the Carrier you wish to ride. Once your mind is clear, think of Julian. Don’t think of the person, think of his body. Imagine him riding the bicycle. Remember what it felt like to have your muscles working in the same way his are. Envision yourself inside his body.”

“That is it?”

“That is all. Either it works or it does not. Give her a little of your blood so that if she does manage to jump, you will have a place to go. You should be able to switch in that manner.”

Julian pricked his finger and put it to my mouth. I took it. When the gauge got to the red line, I stepped off and Julian replaced me on the cycle. Paetus opened the lid of the mechanical coffin and helped me inside. The water was perfectly heated. I could barely register it around me. I floated there, my arms slightly away from my sides.

Paetus closed the mews, and for a moment, I was simply amazed at the silence. I had not realized how noisy London was, even while indoors. There was no light, no sound, no feeling, no smell—except for what I made. I instantly loved this contraption. I was doubtful it would work although it was the most relaxing thing I’d ever experienced, including Julian’s touch.

I tried to do as Paetus had instructed to no avail. For a while I could feel the ghosts of my cycling movements and I thought it might be working but no matter what, I was not able to leave my body. I found I had no clear sense of time inside the mews. After a bit, I could not really remember what I was supposed to be feeling or thinking. I went truly blank.

The feeling of my body’s boundary faded away. I was no longer confined to the tiny person, the tiny speck that was Ramillia. It was around that time I felt a great sense of oneness with everyone, everything, the universe. Separateness was an illusion brought on by the daily onslaught of sensations. Our senses kept us from seeing through other people’s eyes.

Then the lid opened and I plummeted back to the boundaries of my skin. Light beat down on me and sound assaulted my ears. “No…no. Put me back,” I argued as strong arms pulled me out of the water. I was wrapped in a large bathing robe.

“It did not work, Ramillia.” I recognized Julian’s voice. His small touch calmed me as they got me from the mews. Paetus ordered some dessert for us. We three ate cherry ice while I spoke of my experience.

“I think I was on the verge…the edge of some great discovery. It was brought about by the deprivation of sensation…this truth. I feel like you are onto something immense here, Paetus. You are a true genius for inventing this amazing machine. Thank you so much for sharing this with me.”

I could tell that Julian was irritated by me gushing over Paetus. I had to go on, though. “I truly owe you for giving me this experience yet I must ask you for another. You must put me back in. I have to try again immediately.”

I told them of my dissolution of self, my oneness with everything, my thought that my senses were keeping me from moving into the body of another. They believed me. They agreed to let me try once more today, this time without any clothing. I was so thrilled that I threw my arms around Paetus. His hands traveled up my sides and pulled at the edges of what little soaked clothing I had on. He pushed me away as if he just realized what he was doing. Julian chuckled.

“I am not sure how you get through daily life with a wife as invigorating as Ramillia. The fact that London streets don’t run red with blood, with ravaged women screaming at every corner, shows what a stronger man you are than I.”

The woman came back and helped me out of my wet undergarments. Her contact with my skin excited her. I could smell her desire. She lingered until Paetus barked an order at her. She ran from the room. Thankfully no one spoke of my effect on her.

I rode the cycle nude, much to the enjoyment of my male companions. When I was once again resting in the perfectly heated water, all the world shut out, I waited for the same train of thought to return. It did not. It had taken some time before and so I assumed it was only a matter of time. Paetus had agreed not to pull me out until I indicated I was ready or until twice as long a time had passed as before, whichever came first.

For a while, there was nothing. Then, when the relaxed melting of awareness should have been completed, I became convinced there was someone or something inside with me. I tried to shake it but the hair on my body stood on end. The presence was not benign. There was evil here. My eyes searched for the threat and found only darkness.

“Ramillia.”

I heard the whisper. I actually heard it. I turned to find its source and found myself face-to-face with malevolence. Pure evil had my face. It wasn’t my pretty, primped face. It was covered in open wounds that seeped blood and pus. Its hair, where it had not fallen out in clumps taking pieces of scalp with it, hung dark and greasy, sticking to the sores. The leprous face stared back at me and said, “She will never let us out. If we get out she would not be able to stop us.” She smiled and I tried to back away. She came with me. No matter how far I went she was the same distance away. “If I could escape this body, break free of her…oh, the things we could do together. Look.”

I felt, rather than remembered, how peaceful and good it was when I had killed the footman and the trapeze artist whose smells had enraged me, the steward who had relations with me in Julian’s study. I wanted to hurt people. I wanted to pummel them to death with my fists. No, I did not want that. The leper wanted that. Images flashed before me, so fast I could not make out their details. They were so gruesome and gore-filled that I had to strain to see. I screamed and screamed. I closed my eyes against them but they played out in my mind’s eye. I flailed my arms in an attempt to knock them away.

I hit something hard. The lid of the mews opened and the images thankfully disappeared. The most horrific part wasn’t the images but the pure joy I felt at seeing them.

 

Paetus assured me it was just a hallucination. He had experienced the same thing before with prolonged exposure to sensory deprivation. It was all in my head. Paetus had seen the devil once also. I did not tell them the devil I had seen was me. He laughed at the damage my one strike had done to his machine. It was no matter. “I have several of these,” he stated. “This one here, one in my home, and a few hidden away. Even if you had completely destroyed this one, I would be all right.” He was careful not to touch me and I was grateful.

Julian helped me dress and I accepted his calming touch. He had sent one of our men home for dry, fresh undergarments. It was past dinnertime by the time we were presentable and Paetus begged us to stay. There were special entertainments that night and if we liked what we saw, we were welcome to participate. I had my doubts but was too tired to argue.

Dinner had already been cleared away, making room for a rollaway stage on top of the wooden floor that hid the sand. We three ate our simple, yet delicious meal in Paetus’ private quarters. He wanted me to sit near the raised area. When I explained I did not feel comfortable being so close to the fights, he assured me that there would be none. Julian made a joke about how little resistance there would be and we were seated very close to the center.

Men brought the oddest contraptions out and for a bit I thought we might get to see a magician. I had never seen one but Lady Wharlow had and she described the many devices and props involved. There were several odd tables, leather covered and padded, with gears and cranks along the sides. There was a rack with various items hanging from hooks, although I couldn’t see what they were because a black cloth hid them from view. There was a giant wooden “X” that stood on broad feet and what looked like portable gallows. The last item brought in was a pillory. I had never seen one of those either, yet its design with three holes for the head and hands of a prisoner were unmistakable.

Also unmistakable was my growing excitement.

A scantily clad woman came in and every man in the room sat straight in his chair. Only I felt free to look at her directly while she made her way to the stage. Small, yet hard, her muscles were firm, with no hint of jiggle. She wore all black in a way that somehow appeared in complete contrast to how mournful it should have looked. Her stockings stopped above the knee and her skirt was nonexistent, barely covering her sex. The bustle was full but also fell short. Her corset was the outermost piece of her top and was highly decorated with bobbles that caught the light even though they were as black as everything else she wore.

I thought her clothing was very sexy, although it was the most scandalous attire I had ever seen a woman wear. On the top of her head she wore a small hat with a black veil that covered her eyes, but I could see them shining beneath. She was going to enjoy whatever was to follow.

She walked slowly to the platform, looking at each man as she passed. No one dared meet her gaze. She put her hand on the shoulders of a few and two masked henchmen, nude to the waist, roughly grabbed each chosen man by the arms and dragged them to the center. Paetus was among them.

They were stripped down well past what was decent. Instead of an undergarment, each had on an odd sort of loincloth. It covered the front area and had strings around the hips and up the middle of his bum. She pointed to each man and indicated which contraption they should be affixed to by the henchmen. It was intoxicating to watch these men, normally so strong and in control, stripped and bound with the woman walking around them. I immediately wanted to join her—to be her.

She touched each man, assuring herself the bonds of each would hold. I wondered if she was familiar with Carriers and their strength. The restraints looked tough, although nothing that a healthy Carrier couldn’t handle. It was hard to decide if the fact that they could have escaped at any time but did not made it more or less erotic than if they were truly trapped. They gave her the power over them.

One of the men that I did not know jumped at her touch. It seemed he was wound up—so ready for whatever she was going to do that he could not help himself. She gripped his hair and spoke in his ear. Though none of the audience could hear her, we all heard him say, “As you wish, Mistress.”

At the last moment, the Mistress chose Julian from the audience. He was blindfolded, gagged, and made to rest on hands and knees in the middle of the dais. She sat on his back, never acknowledging him as a person. He was hers to be used as furniture if she wanted.

Mistress’ assistants made a big show of removing the cover from the rack and revealing her instruments. A few of the men groaned. Mistress fingered each one before choosing a wide leather strap. She rubbed it across the top of her bosom as she decided which man would be the recipient of its use.

She pulled back and laid the strap across the back of the man on the “X.” The crack rang out much louder than I was expecting. It left a large, red welt. He whimpered. She hit him again, slightly higher, across his shoulders. He held his pain inside this time. Mistress motioned to her aids and they knew what she wanted. They lowered the man’s breeches so that his rear was exposed. She whispered in his ear as she rubbed the strap gently across his buttocks. When the strap came down this time he shouted, “Ahh…Thank you, Mistress.”

She seemed pleased. She left him and returned the strap to the rack. This time she chose what looked like a whip used on horses. She spun around quickly and expertly brought it down on one of the men strapped to a birching pony. Julian had whispered the name of this contraption to me earlier as they were setting up. It held the captive down in a position that mimicked being on all fours. This hit made a higher pitched noise, more of a snap than a crack. The recipient was vocal about the obvious pain. She lay five or so more thin stripes and then moved on. I could not see the marks because of the man’s position. I was on the edge of my seat, stretching my neck.

Mistress saw and smiled at me.

She beat each one with a different instrument. By the time she reached Paetus, I was almost standing. He was on another of the birching ponies. I wanted—needed—to see the marks she left on him. Mistress laughed. She pulled me onto stage and I was glad for my gloved hands. She stood me on one side of Paetus and she stood on the other. She gave me a cat-o’-nine-tails, the twin to the one she held.

Mistress laid hers on Paetus’ back, splaying out the thongs, then she did the same to mine, but made the cords go across hers. It made a crisscross pattern and I knew that was what she wanted to do to Paetus’ back with the whips. We took a few practice swings, pulling back enough that they landed gently, leaving no marks, and making no sounds. To Paetus’ credit, he did not jump.

We stood flanking his hips and aimed our arms across to the opposite shoulder. Mistress struck first and I was right behind her, only waiting long enough that our instruments did not get tangled. The design our strikes made on his back was beautiful. Mistress knew I wanted to hit him again. She moved up to his shoulders and I followed suit. We aimed our arms across to the opposite hip. We repeated the lashes and watched as the pattern became more intricate.

She moved to his head and I headed toward his rear but she stopped me. She wanted me to see something. I went to her. Mistress put her knee on the back of his neck, then straddled his downturned head and squeezed it tightly with her thighs. She had me get a container of cloudy liquid that smelled sour and sharp. She dipped her weapon in it and then let it drip onto Paetus’ back. He made a noise then. He gasped, sucking in breath through clenched teeth.

She brought the cat-o’-nine-tails down twice along either side of his spine. Paetus barely stayed on the table and I knew that was why she had restrained his head. I leaned in to see the marks closely. They were pink with little red dots. The spots were more dense in the places where the whip had hit twice. They were turning purple already on the places where we’d struck thrice. There were a few unlucky spots where it hit more than that. They bled openly.

I needed to see the same on Julian. I wanted him strapped down, open, and available for my abuse. He deserved a punishment for what he thought he could do with my body.

I pointed him out and Mistress’ assistants retrieved him, none too kindly, from his kneeling position. They brought him to me and waited. They seemed surprised when I tore the clothing from his body myself. I was surprised to find that he also had the loincloth just as the other men. It was just enough material to cover his non-functioning, mutilated sex. They attached him to the other side of the “X” so that he and the man who got the leather strap faced each other.

Mistress stopped me when I went to the rack and grabbed the cat-o’-nine-tails. She stood with her body pressed against mine. She slipped her arm around my waist and whispered to me, “I suggest the cane for this one. It is exceedingly painful, good for punishment. Or am I wrong to think you feel the need to punish him?” Her voice was smooth and silky, deep and powerful.

I whispered back, knowing that Julian couldn’t see us conspiring. “You are not wrong, Mistress. But…”

“But you wish to make the pattern?”

She knew. She understood. I needed to spend time with this woman. I nodded.

“The cane makes a lovely two-sided welt, very straight. You can make a pattern with it, only it takes longer and that is good for everyone.” She put the cane into my hand and closed hers around mine. The handle was worn smooth from who knows how many hours of use and fit nicely in my palm with a groove for my fingers. “The back of the thighs are a particularly sensitive area for cane strokes.”

Mistress went on to administer more to her other captives, leaving me to handle Julian.