Angela's Trial and Tribulations by Mark Andrews Page A

disgusting performance,” he said. You will be punished for daring to insult us with so mean an offering... But first, Imogene...?”
    A tall, dark-complexioned girl rose gracefully to her feet. She was as naked as the rest of them and her body was voluptuous. Full-breasted and very narrow-waisted, her thighs were full and so were her buttocks. She was perfectly built for the belly-dance. Her hair was black and straight and gleamed and it hung right down to the small of her back, she now began her dance and Angela stared, goggle-eyed at the sheer beauty of it. It was of course, sexy. A belly-dance is supposed to sexy but it was also sensuous. It was also a study in skill and artistry. Angela couldn’t believe the girl was so able to keep parts of her body quite still while other parts moved so violently. She watched in silent appreciation, realising this was quite as difficult as ballet and just as demanding on her body. As the dance proceeded, Angela realised there was a story to it. Imogene was telling a tale of a poor girl driven to a life of prostitution. It was at once forlorn and beautiful and Angela thought it quite wonderful, despite the lasciviousness of the actions of the lovely girl’s body.
    It was over at last and she bowed to Barker and returned to her place. He pointed to Angela. “Bring her,” he said curtly. They descended into the cellars of the old house and to a room on which John Barker had lavished a great deal of money as well as much personal care and attention. It was not a room for the squeamish, however, nor for those who were not interested in pain - a great deal of pain.
    As Angela was dragged in she stared around in horror while Barker watched her. “Here is where you learn to obey me, instantly and without murmur. Here you will learn that when I wish you to perfect a new skill, you do quickly and with enthusiasm, for not to do so will bring you here to be punished for your sins ...” He moved over to the rack, that prized instrument of torturers throughout the ages and stroked the age-worn, dark timbers lovingly. “The rack,” he mused, “has been used for centuries to elicit information as well as to punish. It might be useful now... See the heavy chains with their manacles that are attached to ankles and wrists... See this bed? It drops down to the floor, leaving the victim dangling between the chains. A wonderful instrument of torture ...” He left it, as if disappointed to be doing so but it was a sham on his part for he well knew exactly what he was going to do to this slender young woman. But it helped to let her see some of the other pieces.
    He moved to another item. “The Shrew’s Chair. Used in centuries past to punish waspish women. Note this model, though. It has spikes on the legs, arms and back as well as the seat. A naked girl, manacled down to this item by her ankles, wrists and neck, will know after a few days that she needs to keep her tongue inside her mouth. It is impossible, you see, girl, for you to keep still and every little movement causes the spikes to tear your flesh...”
    He moved then over to a rack on the wall. “The finest collection of whips and canes in the country, if I do say so myself. These can give exquisite pain to a girl’s body... See this one? Crafted from rhinoceros hide, it is as rough as a coarse file and it can lay open the flesh in one stroke. Or this one, very expensive. Made from the cured pizzle of a stallion...” He took up this item and snapped it lightly across the tips of her breasts. He was pleased as she screamed, as much from the thought of what the thing was as from the pain in her breasts.
    â€œBut no, I think this one is for you.” He moved to an item that had Angela puzzled. It looked horrible but as to its precise function, she wasn’t at all sure. “Bring her over, Sun, while I explain its finer points. The base, you see, is steel. It measures six