When they were in the room he locked the door, lit the lamp and unbuckled his belt. He laid it over the end of the bed, and then sat down in the armchair. Meggy fiddled with her buttons to undo her blouse.

"I want you to bathe," he commanded.

She looked through the dim light at him. He had crossed his legs, leaned back in the chair and had his chin resting in his hand, rubbing his fingers backwards and forwards over his clean-shaven skin.

"There's water in the jug." He pointed to the duchess against the wall.

Meggy nodded, knowing that every room had water. After all, she had filled every jug. She poured some into the bowl, and then moved toward the screen.

"Here. You bathe here in front of me," he ordered.

Hesitating, Meggy looked over at him. "Sir, I'd feel more comfortable behind the curtain."

The man smirked, sat up straighter and folded his hands together in front of his chest. "I want to watch."

"I only do sex, sir." Meggy swallowed nervously.

He laughed without making a sound. "You'll do as I tell you."

"I'm sorry, sir." Meggy placed the bowl of water on the dresser and turned to face him. "I'm nae the girl for you. There are others who'd be more willing."

He stood, moved toward her and took her by the chin. "It's not another I want. I've paid for you. More money than was necessary. You'll do the right thing for me won't you?" He rubbed his fingers gently on the side of her face. "I want to see you bathe. I like my women clean. If I watch I'll be satisfied you are."

Meggy drew in a breath and nodded. Though his tone had softened and his words reasonable he made her feel uneasy.

"Good girl," he said as he patted her on the face, and then sat back down. Once she was naked, he leaned forward in his chair. "What is your name?"

Meggy had been naked in front of many men, but for some reason she felt truly exposed and ashamed of her bareness in front of this man. She stood sideways, trying to shield herself from his gaze, wet the cloth and began to wipe it over her body. "Meg-Anne," she said without looking at him.

"Ah... Meg-Anne. A pretty name for a pretty girl." He leaned back in the chair, clasped his hands together and watched as the lamplight highlighted her curves as she moved. "How old are you, Meg-Anne?"

She turned her head to face him and frowned. She had never been asked this before by a customer.

He smiled at her confusion and said, "You don't look much older than sixteen."

She looked at her arm as she was washing it with the damp cloth and said, "I'm twenty, sir."

He tittered. "Can you read and write, Meg-Anne?"

She looked back at him, bit down on her lip but didn't answer.

"You can't can you, Meg-Anne?"

"Nae, sir I can't." She didn't like the way he kept saying her name.

He sighed and shook his head. "Then how could you possibly know how old you are?"

She didn't answer immediately, but instead rinsed the cloth, bent and lifted her foot to rest on the lower edge of the dresser so she could wash her leg. She focused on what she was doing, trying not to expose herself too much. "I just ken is all."

He stood quietly and moved soundlessly toward her. Meggy didn't realise he was behind her until she felt his hand on her backside. She jerked to a stand. He pushed her forward, made her bend and ran his hand over her behind. "I think you're a very naughty girl, Meg-Anne. You're no more than sixteen."

His breathing changed. Meggy tried to straighten up but he held her firm and continued to rub his palm over her. He let his finger linger between the cheeks of her buttock. Meggy didn't like what he was doing and tried to stand once more.

He murmured, "I love naughty little girls." Then he squeezed the back of her neck forcing her to bend lower.

Meggy strained to move out of his hold. As she did, he slapped her hard on the backside. She screamed and struggled against him so he shoved her to the floor and laughed as she scuttled backwards.

He smiled and followed her. Took slow steps, one foot after the other until she was cornered, frightened of what he would do to her next. He held his hand out to her. "Stand up, Meg-Anne."

She shook her head.

"Stand up!"

Meggy shook her head once more. "Nae, Sir I want ta leave."

He crouched down in front of her and dangled his hands together between his knees. "So, Meg-Anne doesn't want to play anymore."

"Please let me go."

"I want to play, Meg-Anne. I want to play grown up games."

He was scaring her. Tears filled her eyes. "You hurt me," she cried.

He touched her face gently, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I won't do it again, Meg-Anne. I'm sorry."

Meggy swallowed, somehow, she didn't believe him. She felt like the child he thought her to be.

He stood and held his hand out to her. "Come. I want you on the bed."

She looked at him warily and said, "I just do sex, sir. I dinnae kiss."

He smiled down at her as she rose to her feet, and then slapped her hard across the face. "I'll be the one to tell you what you do or don't do."

Before she could respond he dragged her across the room and threw her onto the bed. Picking up her chemise, he leaned forward, grabbed her by the wrist and wrenched her toward him. Meg fought against him so he backhanded her again.

His movements were fast and aggressive. She wasn't prepared for it and tried to scream but he spun her around, pulled her chemise tight across her mouth and tied it at the back of her head.

She hit out at him. He pulled her arms behind her and up her back. Meggy gasped for breath through the fabric of her chemise. He seized the cord, which held the beds mosquito net in place, let go of her hands, spun her to face him, and then tied her wrists together in front of her. When she realised what he was doing it was too late. Bound and gagged he threw her back onto the bed.

Meggy lay there wide-eyed and watched him undress. He had a large ugly burn scar in the middle of his chest. It was shaped like an iron.

He laughed when he saw her looking and touched it tenderly with his hand. "Pretty isn't it, Meg-Anne? A present from my whore of a mother."

He climbed onto the bed, went to straddle her but Meggy brought her knees up and kicked him in the chest with her feet. He reeled backwards, winded. Meggy rolled from the bed, she struggled to her feet and tried to pull the chemise from her mouth but he grabbed her before she could. He pushed her face forward onto the bed and used the ends of the cord to tie her to the bed head. Meggy, tried to speak, to plead for her freedom but he laughed at her efforts and moved away. She craned her head to watch him. Shaking her head in fear as he took his belt from the end of the bed. When he brought the belt down fiercely onto her backside she screamed into the bed's mattress.

"You're a naughty girl, Meg-Anne. A very naughty girl."

The realisation that he was insane increased with every strike of his belt.

Meggy sobbed. She tensed her body for the next blow and prayed to God for this torture to end.

When it did, he lay down beside her, seized a handful of hair and lifted her face from the mattress.

Through her blurred vision Meggy could see sorrow in his eyes.

He cooed, "You made me angry, Meg-Anne. Very angry." He wiped at her tears. "You won't make me angry any more will you, Meg-Anne?"

She gulped back more tears. He was waiting for her to answer so she shook her head.

He smiled and laid her head to one side so it rested on her arm. Staring at her, he smoothed the hair away from her face. "I don't like to beat you, Meg-Anne, but I have to when you're naughty. You understand that don't you?"

Frightened, Meggy nodded.

He kissed her nose. "I love you very much," he whispered and lifted her gently so he could slide underneath her.

The cord pulled tight on her wrists as he made her straddle over him. He ran his hands down over her bruised and battered back. She closed her eyes to withstand the pain.

Touching her face he whispered, "Don't worry. I'm going to make it all better."

She felt his erect penis against her vagina, then he lifted her and eased himself inside of her. Meggy took a deep breath through her nose and steeled herself against the revulsion she felt.

When he had finished, he slid from underneath her and left her tied to the bed.

Meggy struggled to release her hands, but he had tied the cord tight. All she could do was bury her face in the mattress and sob.

*

"Oh, Meg... Jesus!"

Meggy woke confused and groggy. She heard Beatrice's panicked voice and someone tugging at her wrists. When the memory came to her, she burst into tears. Meg moved her arms slowly from where they'd been tied and turned her head to look at Beatrice.

"Meggy... what did he do to you?" Beatrice brushed the hair from her face.

Meg's throat was dry. She couldn't speak, and as she rolled onto her side she groaned, "He was mad, Bee. Crazy." Tears seeped from her eyes, flowed over the bridge of her nose and dripped onto the bed covers.

Beatrice cradled her. "I've struck the odd one from time to time," she whispered. "You can't take it to heart, you hear. It wasn't your fault, sweet. It wasn't your fault." She climbed onto the bed with Meg and rocked backward and forwards. Beatrice kissed her lightly on the head. "Timothy Bain came to me complaining that you were taking too long. He said you'd been gone for more than an hour with an officer gentleman so I came looking." She drew back to look at Meggy's face. "There ain't nothin' we can do. You know that don't you?"

Meg gasped and nodded.

Beatrice cradled her head to her chest, and continued to rock backwards and forwards. "It wasn't your fault, sweet. Just remember that, won't you and we can thank the Lord we don't get too many men like him."

In this chapter I was trying to highlight some of the horrible things ladies of the night had to endure. I was very sorry to have had to do this to sweet Meggy.

Photo - Gettyimages