Chapter 14

He left me for a while and I sat silently, doing nothing, wondering what would happen next. I did not feel better. I was still confused; nothing felt clear. My thoughts were shrouded by a thick mist, my feelings of expectancy lost in a fog of disappointment. But deep in the back of my mind I knew what he said was true. It was all over. The story had ended. It had brought me to this point in time and to this place and there was nowhere else to go.

I had finally remembered what happened to me in the bullring. I had suppressed the memory, but now the images and feelings and smells all came back to me... numerous avaricious cocks penetrating me while the hot sand chafed my naked flesh, the burning sun and glimmering explosions of semen blinding me as I was tossed from man to man like a rag doll pierced by endless erections... I could see it all now clearly, and I could understand why I buried the event so deeply in my subconscious. I shivered as memories flooded back, pictures filling my mind, showing what I had done and what had happened to me as a result. But I could also see now into the beginning of my salvation. I could feel Galen lifting me in his arms afterwards, cradling me against his comforting chest and carrying me out of the arena, back through the dark tunnel and placing me gently in the taxi. I could remember looking back and seeing him standing near the entrance, with Eve on his arm. I could remember staring through the car window in a daze, watching the wires dipping between the telegraph posts, seeing the outspread wings of birds gliding by in the deep blue sky. I could remember the feeling of relief when he brought me here, laid me down on the floor and bound my ankles. I could feel again the sense of deliverance that swept over me when he first beat me with the cane and the deep, comforting heat that filled me.

Now he will be coming again, perhaps for the last time. He has cared for me long enough. He has protected me from myself and now he will let me go. He has punished me enough, not with anger but with compassion, and he knows he can do no more for me. Yet my recovery is incomplete, I know it. I hesitate to say I am cured, but he must release me and I must face the world again. I wish I could still claim his protection, but I know I cannot stay here forever. I will no longer have the safety of being bound, tied like an animal, and locked away in a dark, safe cell. I must face the risk of being free, of facing again the wickedness that has been released inside me. I must walk out into the light.

When he returned, he held my arm and led me out of the dingy cell. I wanted to look back, but I did not. I could not remember when I had last seen sunlight, and as I emerged from the cellar I tilted my head back and closed my eyes as though bathing in it. When I opened them, I saw I was standing in the hallway of the apartment I had stayed in when I first arrived on the Costa del Sol. A wave of anxiety drenched me. I wanted to fall to my knees and let him put the collar around my neck again and hold me against his legs. I wanted to feel the tug of the lead, the safety of his power, but as my panic receded I realised my thoughts were nothing more than vague desires. They were pale reflections compared to the burning clarity of my self-awareness.

We walked through the French doors into the small, enclosed garden. I looked up into the sun again, and flinched. He picked up a wide-brimmed sunhat from the stone bench and set it gently on my head. A mottling of light and shade fell across my arms, and when I looked down I was reminded of the fact that I was still naked. The flecks of sunlight skimmed across my skin and played around my feet as though enticing me to dance with them. He drew me over to the bench, and I sat down. I felt unsteady on my feet and was relieved to sit. The warm stone made the flesh of my buttocks tingle.

The large wooden door in the enclosing wall opened and a man walked towards us. I squinted to see if I could make out his features, but he was no more than a silhouette in the bright light.

‘Professor Lange,’ my keeper said to the approaching figure, ‘it’s good to see you again. It has been some months now.’

I was seized with confusion and bit my lip uncertainly. I did not know what was happening. The figure stretched out his hand and my heart leapt into my throat because it was Galen. Yet my keeper - my old supervisor, Dr Baal - was calling him Professor Lange, the psychologist I admired so much. How could Galen be Professor Lange?

‘Max, it is always a pleasure,’ Galen said as they shook hands. ‘How has the treatment gone? Is she recovered?’

‘Not completely,’ Dr Baal replied, talking as if I was not there. ‘But I cannot help her any more. I have brought her back as much as I can. At least she feels pain again. But I cannot guarantee she can control her desires any more than she could the last time you saw her, in the arena.’

‘You have caned her frequently?’

‘Of course.’

‘And spanked her?’

‘Every day, and she has responded, but the episode in the bullring was too much for her. She was overcome by the experience. I think she will never be quite the same again.’

‘Syra, my pet,’ Galen said gently, ‘look, your friends are here. See, not only has your old supervisor, Dr Baal, given up his time to care for you, but your other friends are here to help as well.’

I looked beyond him. More figures were arriving, moving out of the sunlight like phantoms. Eve walked to Galen and stood beside him, looking compassionately down at me. Cleo smiled at me warmly and flicked her long hair back over her shoulders, while holding Espartaco’s arm. Then the girl I had watched in the alley stepped forward and offered me her hand. I shook it weakly, and looked up at Dr Baal for a moment, hoping he would explain, but as he smiled and handed me a drink, I realised I did not need an explanation.

I had been Galen’s experiment all along. Everyone else was either an associate or a colleague he recruited to help set me up.

We all sat together in the small garden as the sun dipped behind the wall and draped us in the warm shadows of evening. I wondered how many of Galen’s experiments had needed treatment when their desires overcame them. I wondered how many had survived and how many had failed, and into which category I would fall in the end.

It has been several weeks now since I left Galen and the others. I miss them in a strange sort of way, but I am glad to be free. Galen did not try to stop me from leaving. He seemed happy for me, as though he knew I needed to go, and as I sat in the back of the taxi, I did not look back. Instead, I gazed into the rear-view mirror and held the driver’s dark, smouldering eyes. I asked him to stop the car just before we reached the airport. I did not want to leave without once more feeling the heat of his hand on my bottom, without once more squirming beneath a firm, unforgiving spanking.