Chapter 40: the Senator Explores

The Senator was in no hurry.

He opened the door to his suite and peered the length of the hallway in each direction. The fluorescent illumination overhead in the hallway had been reduced to three rectangles of light, each one recessed behind a herringbone-patterned grill. The one in the middle of the hallway lit up the elevator doors, while the two end rectangles illuminated the stairwell doors. No one but party-goers would be up this late, and the hallway was empty. Ellsworth exited, and he walked briskly down the carpeted corridor toward the nearest stairwell.

He was dressed lightly, with a short-sleeved white polo shirt over tan walking shorts; on his feet he wore tan sandals. He had dispensed with underclothing: Undershorts would be a particular hindrance, and few male clients in the Academy wore any. Female clients often wore brassieres but never panties.

Ellsworth carried a briefcase. At this hour it would look odd but less revealing than a bag. It contained everything that he might want, including a coil of rope, a large tube of petroleum jelly, a strap that Kelly claimed was 'a real stinger, Master!', a cat-o-nine tails, and one of Jeff's experimental prods.

He entered the stairwell. During the day the top stairwell was usually oppressively hot, but at this hour it was refreshingly cool. The basement that housed the slaves would be downright chilly. He grinned.

How unfortunate for them.

It would be doubly entertaining for him, to compel a female down there to undress. Not only would she dislike the exposure, but she'd hate the cold.

Unless their cells are heated, which I doubt.

For prominent clients like Ellsworth, Crane provided all the comforts in the expensive fourth floor suites. He had cut corners in the third floor apartments, though; each of those comprised no more than a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and a bath. Moreover, the bedroom contained only one double bed and its entrance had neither a doorbell nor a buzzer. Of course, those were for intended for less influential clients as well as for his paid staff, including the doctor and dentist.

The cells on level B where the slaves were kept must be even less inviting.

His sandals clattered on the concrete stairs and echoed strangely in the silence.

What a contrast with the day, when he always heard background noises, especially the shrieks from the Discipline Room, located adjacent to the stairwell. He often developed an erection as the cries echoes upward and he imagined trainers bringing birch riding whips across the naked bodies of the females there. During his first sojourn in the Academy, the sounds had induced him to look in on the scene, but he seldom bothered anymore. Usually, the room was too crowded. One had to arrive early, and that meant bribing a guard to inform him when a female was scheduled.

These fucking floors have such high ceilings: twenty-two stairs between each one! At least I'm not climbing. I could have taken an elevator, but I might encounter party-goers. There's little danger of meeting anyone here in the stairwell.

The guard was easier to corrupt than Ellsworth had anticipated. No consequences had developed from his first bribe. When he proffered the second one--five times that of the first--the boy took it with alacrity.

That had slightly disappointed him. Five hundred had been too generous.

Generosity rankled like a pebble in his shoe.

He continued down the stairs, shrugging it off. The amount was insignificant...

Anyway, Lindsey will provide the money, as long as her supply holds out.

He doubted that Crane would learn of the guard's misconduct. All that he asked of Miguel was to make a trip to the fourth floor each evening and slip the keys under his door.

In the morning Ellsworth would return the keys under his door.

Miguel isn't as stupid as I thought. He hasn't asked-not once --what I plan to do with them.

Ellsworth reached the basement. He opened the stairwell door.

The hallway was dark: All of the fluorescent overhead lights that illuminated the corridor during the daytime were extinguished. Only two solitary incandescent bulbs, very dim ones (he guessed they were seven and one-half watters) were lit. These were located at opposite ends of the long passageway. As he held open the door he was unable to see very far beyond it into the hall. He couldn't even perceive the doorknobs of the closer cells. He peered into the hall, but all he could distinguish was the dim light from the bulb at the far end of it.

Fuck! Why didn't I put a flashlight in this briefcase?!

What little light that there was would have to serve. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

Christ! I hope the lights in the cells are on!

There was no assurance that they would be, and he'd been doubly stupid not to have brought a flashlight. It would be a problem to even locate a wall switch.

Ellsworth moved cautiously. He felt his way along the right hand wall.

His fingers encountered the frame of a door. Suddenly, he saw the bright dot of the peephole and he sighed with relief.

The cells are lighted!

He leaned forward and put his eye to the lens. The interior was brightly illuminated. A girl lay asleep on a bench-like shelf against the left wall. She was completely naked, and shivering.

There wasn't even a sheet covering her! She lay in a fetal position, her feet in his direction. Ellsworth could observe her buttocks and, between her thighs, her labia. Hers were framed by an oval of brown fuzz. Ellsworth moved his head. Opposite was another girl, this one a blonde. She too was naked.

Ellsworth's heart raced in his chest. He felt like a schoolboy who was flush with pocket money, one who had arrived, unchaperoned for the first time, at a candy store.

He checked his watch. Three-thirty.

The cells are illuminated all night.

He proceeded to the next door. Inside he again observed two females. He recalled seeing each of them at an auction the previous year.

The clients who purchased them must have returned them to Crane. I suppose these are for rent.

Ellsworth continued to feel along the wall, proceeding cautiously. After what he guessed was Cell 30, he encountered recesses. His fingers found a long vertical separation in the 'wall' and then, groping about, he found buttons.

An elevator. I'll take this when I return.

Nina and Kelly were asleep in the next cell. Each girl lay under a blanket, her head on a pillow. He saw blue uniforms hanging neatly from coat hangers against the rear wall.

There are a dozen females down here that I'll have to fuck!

But he'd never remember all of their cell numbers. Next time he'd bring a note pad.

Two other blue girls, Polly and Cheryl, were in the cell opposite that in which Nina and Kelly lay. He'd seen these two arranging chairs and otherwise aiding Crane during the last auction.

He proceeded to the next cell.

The blonde!

To his surprise, Sheila also lay beneath a blanket like Nina and Kelly, and her head lay on a pillow.

He was even more surprised when he observed the opposite bunk.

Judith!

The bitch is wallowing in the same luxuries as the blonde, with blankets and pillows. What the fuck is Crane up to?

He peered through the glass at the back wall, straining his eyes to distinguish the clothing that hung from two hooks. Neither garment could be that of a trainee. The dress above the foot of Sheila's bed looked like a blue girl's uniform; that above the brunette's appeared to be a black evening gown. It could be of silk, and looked spangled with stars.

I suspected that Crane was up to something when he didn't produce Judith during the auction. As for the blonde, she should be in training, but that's a blue girl uniform.

The Senator shrugged. Crane planned to swindle him, but now that he had discovered where the blonde was, the manager's plans were of no importance. However Crane planned to use Judith didn't matter, either. He'd outwitted the man.

Despite that fool's attempts to thwart me, I'll use both of these sluts. I'll make the blonde serve my prick in every possible way. When I tire of her I'll make her serve my friends' pricks on her knees. As for Judith, she's what Jeff has been looking for, a female subject to test his electrical devices on.

On the Senator's last visit to the shop, Doc Kreff had been there, having a heated technical discussion with Jeff.

A naked female was there also, her hands bound over her head by a rope to a ceiling hook. Ellsworth was considerably more interested in the girl than in the boring discussion that the two men were having about electrical devices. The female was one of the pretty waitresses who served the Senator in the Dining Hall. At the moment, her legs were conveniently separated by a spreader bar, and Ellsworth took the opportunity to explore her cunt with his fingers.

Ellsworth was amusing himself by flicking her clitoris and, as it swelled, observing her embarrassment, when he found himself becoming interested in their conversation.

Doc and Jeff had been stimulating female genitals electrically. They had experimented on the bound girl over the previous week, during which Doc had inserted acupuncture needles into her nipples, her labia, and her clitoris, where they served as electrodes through which Jeff applied electrical currents from his generator.

The most interesting effects were produced with one needle located low in the subject's clitoris. Any distant needle, such as one in a nipple, could serve as the grounding electrode. Application of electrical pulses into the clitoral needle produced orgasms in the subject whether she attempted to resist or not. Surprisingly, even after the subject became exhausted and hung limply from the ceiling rope they were able to produce the spasms in her genitals.

The two men discussed replacing the needles, which they deemed unnecessary, by implantation of a miniature receiver which Jeff had constructed. About the size of a thick postage stamp, one of its two hair-thin wires could be surgically connected to the nerve nexus in the clitoris. Doc considered the implantation to be routine and simple, but he resisted performing it because it lacked safeguards.

"Jeff, boy. You know the clients that Crane gets!" he said; "Damn few would use your generator sensibly!"

He argued that the slave's owner would be tempted to increase the generator's voltage and the duration of its use.

"Young man," he told Jeff; "Sure as snow in winter, they'll injure the girl. If a client complains to Crane that our device ruined a slave who is worth over ten thousand big ones, Crane will fire us."