The Golden Age

Chapter 28: Atlantic Crossing (1)

Bertie stared out of the window as the giant seaplane sped across the inlet. The buffeting of water gave way to a steadier sound of rushing water as the craft lifted up onto the step of the plane’s hull. The white painted houses of the port of Abu Kammash disappeared behind them.

Then they were airborne, climbing steadily across the water. The plane banked in a steady turn across Ras Ajdir and the Tunisian border and headed west. In time it settled down into level flight. The throb of the engines quietened as the throttles were eased back for cruise speed.

Bertie decided to explore. The tour Clegg had given them, when they arrived had impressed him but he hadn’t really had a chance to investigate the ‘plane properly. He looked around the cabin. It was furnished rather like the lounge of the Friedrich Nietzsche but, Bertie was pleased to note in a rather less functional style. As well as the lounge area and the dining table, each of the passengers had a large, comfortable chair with a side table and reading lamp. A small cocktail bar stood on the port side of the cabin, a table holding a gramophone and a pile of records stood to starboard.

Bertie walked aft. A gangway led away from the cabin first past the six small sleeping cabins available for the passengers to the rather simpler accommodation that had been installed for the “cargo”.

Clegg had been delighted that they had been able to use Gabriella as cargo on this maiden flight. “Hardly a maiden flight without a maiden, Bertie had joked. Now he decided to look in on their unfortunate travelling companion. Aft of the cabins, there were two cells, each with their own barred door, one on either side of the gangway. Each cell contained four rows of three seats set close to one another. Each seat was well equipped with straps.

Only the first seat in the port side cell was occupied for this trip. Gabriella sat helpless, strapped to a solid looking chair. Bertie peered through the bars at her as she glowered at him and tried to struggle against the straps.

Forward of the main cabin was a gangway. A metal ladder led up to the flight deck. Beyond it lay four crew cabins and then finally in the nose of the seaplane, the galley. Alice and Sally were hard at work fixing a meal.

Bertie was pleased. He’d been worried in case the transition from the dirigible to this new form of transport was to lead to a down turn in culinary standards but it looked as if the girls had access to all they needed.

Back in the cabin he watched the jungle slide by beneath the hull of the seaplane. They were heading across a mountain range, the High Atlas Bertie assumed. It was easy enough to navigate here, once they reached the coast and headed out over the Atlantic, Hermione would really start earning her keep.

The plane droned westwards but soon lost its race with the setting sun. Lights lit up the cabin as it fell dark outside. Bertie looked out to see the coast of Africa disappearing behind them. A few minutes later, he heard Clegg and Elspeth coming down the ladder from the flight deck. Almost at the same time Jennings appeared from his cabin aft.

“Are our friends all right on their own?” Bertie asked. “I mean after the business with Hermione and that poor nurse?”

“I think Insing’s re-orientation has taken adequately,” Clegg answered. “But I can keep an eye on things from here, anyway.” Clegg slid back a wooden panel over the cabin’s bar. Behind the panel a set of brass-rimmed, black-faced, instruments displayed the seaplane’s heading, altitude, speed, and rate of climb. Six smaller dials showed the rpm and oil temperature for each of the massive engines. “They’re wired to repeat the instruments in the cockpit,” Clegg explained. “It’s partly for the amusement of the passengers but it does mean that I can take some time off from the flight deck. As you can see Addams and Alardyce are steering a steady course so far.”

Jennings waited for Clegg to finish his explanation. “Is there anything I can get for you, Miss, Gentlemen?”

“Capital thought, Jennings, I could do with a drink,” Bertie responded.

“Thank you, Jennings but I think our other two friends should be looking after us.” Clegg interjected. “You take it easy for this evening at least – you’ve earned a rest. Sit yourself down and enjoy the ride.”

“If you say so, Sir.” Jennings looked pleased as he eased himself into one of the cabin’s large armchairs. “And if you’ll allow me to say so, Sir, this is a whole lot more comfortable than that airship. We may have a little less space but at least the furniture doesn’t feel as though it is bending every time that you sit on it.”

Elspeth grinned and turned to head forward. “I’ll go and chivvy up the girls.”

She reappeared after a few moments and Bertie was delighted to see that his original impression of the girl’s uniforms had been wrong. “This is more like it,” he beamed. “I can’t see Luftwehr or Schneer embracing the idea of Cabaret on board their ship! Wilkommen, bien venue, welcome!” he called.

The two girls arrived ready to serve drinks, Sally pushing a trolley carrying a splendid selection of bottles, Alice carrying a tray of glasses. The two girls were dressed identically but all that remained of their earlier uniforms were their caps. Both wore flared skirts that barely came below the level of their crotch, their dark stockings were rolled down and held by garters just above their knees, leaving their thighs milky white above. Above the waist, each girl’s midriff was bare, their breasts only just covered by white, diaphanous cloth that only served to draw attention to their nipples.

After a few cocktails, Bertie and Jennings were enjoying the services of the girls in other ways as each compliantly put her mouth or hands to good use. Bertie and Jennings each had one of the girls kneeling by their side, pleasuring his cock as they downed their drinks.

Having satisfied himself that the arrangements for both the flight deck and the cabin service were working effectively, Clegg decided to turn his attention to the cargo. “Elspeth,” he said, “shall we check that our Italian friend is comfortable?”

Elspeth put her drink down and got to her feet. “Good idea, it will be a long trip for her. Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen,” she announced to Bertie and Jennings, ”we’re going aft for a minute or two.”

Clegg led the way back towards the cells. When he unlocked the door to her cage, Clegg could see that she had nothing to show for her struggles but rivulets of sweat running down her naked body, and a stream of drool, dribbling from the corner of her ball gagged mouth. “You see, Elly,” he gestured proudly, “our friend is quite secure, if not comfortable.”

Gabriella groaned and renewed her struggles without effect.

“These seats are terribly close together,” Elly mused.

“I know,” Clegg responded. “I thought about that but there was a difficult balance to strike between space for the cargo and comfort for the passengers. Once the girls are strapped down in their seats there’s really no need for leg room and this way we got an extra row in, that’s a third more cargo with all that implies.” 

“Isn’t eighteen hours a long time to keep her sat there?”

“No, not really. The toiletry necessities are taken account of in the design of the seat. There’s no real need to feed them. We can provide fluids if necessary. Do you see up there?” He pointed above the girl’s head. Elspeth nodded. “In the event of there being a need for water we can drop a tube down from the panel above the seat. It simply plugs into a valve on the ball gag and she can take on as much fluid as she needs. If we’ve got a full cargo we can leave the water tubes connected permanently. So, apart from an occasional check, the cargo needn’t distract us too much. Now Gabriella, do you need a drink?”

Gabriella glowered at Clegg over her gag and shook her head vigorously.

“Oh dear,” said Clegg, seeing her reaction, “that’s not right at all.” He reached across and pulled another strap from behind her headrest. “We don’t want you waggling your head around like that. It could be dangerous if we encountered turbulence. This should have been fastened before we took off.” He drew the strap tightly across her forehead, pulling her head back against the head rest and fixing it so she could not move. She gave a whimpering grunt. “There, that’s much better,” said Clegg. “We’ll pop back later, there’s only about another ten hours to go.”

Chapter 29 Atlantic Crossing (2)

If Gabriella’s accommodation was cramped then that which Sandy, Agnes and Heather were enjoying was considerably better.

With customs officials all watching the ports after the apparent abductions of Agnes and Heather, Sandy had come up with a plan that allowed them all to join the next transatlantic sailing from Southampton.  As a result they were to enjoy the comfort of an ocean liner’s first class cabin. Well at least Sandy and Agnes were.

While the ports had been alerted to watch out for the novelist and the publisher’s secretary and their presumed abductors, they weren’t particularly worried by a woman leaving for America with her elderly, wheel chair confined aunt and her aunt’s nurse. Every assistance was provided to help the party board, the crew being particularly solicitous over Sandy’s aunt, the poor old lady in the head scarf and dark glasses, who put up so stoically with her wheel chair being man-handled up the boarding ramp. They were even provided with a cabin that opened directly onto the promenade deck so that Sandy could take her aged aunt out for air. It was just a shame that at such short notice they had only been able to accommodate the nurse in one of the third class cabins on F deck.

In Sandy and Agnes’s cabin, Heather was being thoroughly un-amused. She had thrown her starched white cap on the bed angrily as soon as she entered the cabin. “It’s completely unfair,” she protested. “You two are up here enjoying the comfort and I’m stuck down in the bowels of the ship. Have you the slightest idea how hot and stuffy it is down there? Not to mention the noise? Have you?”

Agnes was sitting back on the bed, her head scarf and glasses tossed to one side. Sandy was at the cabin’s dressing table. “Let me think, Heather, let me think,” she said, smirking. “Well, on reflection, no. No, I don’t think we do.” She giggled.

Heather was standing with her arms folded. Well it’s jolly unfair. I had by far the worse kidnapping – dumped in the back of that van and then bouncing around in the side-car. And now I have to wear this stupid uniform on top of being in the smallest metal box that could be possibly referred to as a cabin. It doesn’t even have a window.”

“Port-hole, dear,” Agnes corrected. “Didn’t you learn anything at that publishers?”

“Window, port-hole who cares?” said Heather sulkily.

“And besides,” chimed in Sandy, “I think white suits you.”

“Yes, and so do half the perverted old men I have to pass from my cabin to get up here! My backside must be black and blue.” Heather ran her hands tentatively over her buttocks.

“Most unfair, Heather dear,” Agnes replied. “I thought I was the only one allowed to take advantage of you below the waist. You must show me later. Now don’t be difficult or I’ll be asking the Captain to clap you in irons. Do be a good girl and fetch me some tea.”

Heather gave an irritated snort and left for the dining room. She had just reached the foot of the stairs leading down up to the main saloon when she heard a voice behind her.

“Heather Logan! How extraordinary!”

Heather turned around to find herself face to face with Jennifer Bayliss.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” Jennifer gushed. “It must be eight years or more. How are you? What have you been up to? What are you doing now? Oh, silly of me.” She noticed Heather’s uniform.

Heather thought swiftly. “Well you can see, I went in to nursing. I’ve got a really good job now, looking after an old dear on the crossing. It’s a bit dull but not too much hard work,” she laughed.

“It’s funny seeing you here. I met Lucy Jordan just before I left England, you remember her, she thought you were working for some publisher – she was worried in case you’d been caught up in that dreadful business with Agnes Crystal. She must have been thinking about someone else.”

Now Heather was worried. Lucy wasn’t thinking about anyone else, she Lucy and Jennifer had been firm friends at school but she’d kept in contact with Lucy and they’d often used to meet for tea at Lyons Corner House in the Strand. There would be a real problem when Jennifer and Lucy next spoke - by then Lucy would be sure to have heard about her supposed abduction. It would only take a call on the ship-to-shore radio telephone and she, Agnes and Sandy could be in real trouble.

“Yes, she must.” Heather tried to gather her wits and think what to do. “Still it’s lovely to see you. How are you enjoying the trip? What have you been up to?”

“Oh, I’ve got a wonderful opportunity. You know I was always keen on sports at school,” Heather remembered that Jennifer had been captain of the school netball team and she still had the lithe, loose limbed body and the long blonde hair that had made her the crush of every girl in the lower fourth. “I’ve been invited to Boston as part of a sports exchange programme between the Americans and ourselves.”

“Goodness,” said Heather. “Will you be in America long?”

“I’m not sure, I… ” An elderly couple were trying to make their way along the corridor and Jennifer edged back to let them pass.  “Well look, we can’t stay here chatting,” she said. “Look, you’re obviously in the middle of some errand, why don’t you stop by my cabin later on? I’ve got a bottle of gin down there – it’ll be quite like some of those dorm parties back in school.” She laughed.

“Hmm, yes, that will be great. There’s so much I have to tell you,” said Heather conspiratorially.

“All right then. How about five o’clock? It’s cabin B227.”

“Lovely,” said Heather, “I’ll see you then. But you’re right I really must get back to the old lady.” She waved and scuttled off back to Agnes’ cabin.

Two hours later, Jennifer responded to a knock on her cabin door and opened it to Heather. “Come in,” she urged. “Or are you still on duty?”

“Oh, no, no,” said Heather looking down at her uniform. “I’ve just finished but I thought I’d stop by before I went back to my cabin. I’m right down on E-deck, I’m afraid.”

“That’s all right. It’s good to see you anyway. Come on sit down. Put that satchel down anywhere.” Heather tossed her first aid bag down on the couch and sat down alongside it. “What do you keep in there anyway? All your pills and potions?”

“Yes, it’s a regular drug store as the Americans would say,” Heather laughed.

“Well, I’ll fix a drink. Gin all right for you?”

“No, look, this should be my treat. Here,” Heather pulled a bottle of champagne from her satchel, its neck blocked by an ornate silver stopper. “I liberated a bottle of bubbly from the old dear – she keeps having them sent up but never seems to get around to drinking them. It’s only just been opened so there’s still plenty of fizz in it.”

“Lovely,” said Jennifer producing two glasses from a wall cabinet. “I’m all for freebies.”

Heather poured each of them a glass. “Happy days,” Jennifer laughed taking a big gulp.

“And old times,” replied Heather joining her.

A few sips later, Jennifer said, “Oh, this is really going to my head. I know I haven’t had any for a while but I feel really giddy from just those couple of sips. Oooh, I must sit down.”

“Mmm, I feel quite muzzy, myself,” said Heather. “It must be because it’s warm in here, don’t you think…”

“Well, I,….” Jennifer began but suddenly her eyes drooped shut and she slid back unconscious on the bed. Heather smiled for a moment but then the effects of the drug took hold on her and she slipped into unconsciousness too, falling to the floor beside her old school friend.

The soft thump of the two girls sliding into oblivion was Sandy’s cue. With a stolen pass key she opened the door to the cabin and slipped inside, bringing with her a folding wheel chair and a small soft bag. Surveying the scene she slid Heather away from the bed where Jennifer was sprawled before setting to work. She turned to the chest of drawers and rummaged in each drawer in turn, pulling out a selection of stockings and scarves. Sandy tied Jennifer’s ankles together with a stocking. Working quickly, she took each wrist in turn and tied it to her leg, just above the knee. Finally she tied her knees tightly together as well. Then picking up two scarves she jammed one into Jennifer’s mouth before tying another across it. She had only just worked quickly enough. Jennifer gave a choking grunt from behind her gag as the effects of the drug began to wear off. Heather gave an equally inarticulate groan from the floor but was soon sitting up, holding her head to try to stop the throbbing ache that remained now that consciousness had returned.

“That’s definitely dedication above the call of duty,” said Sandy, helping Heather groggily to her feet. “Are you all right?”

“Hmm, yes, but, oh, my head hurts.  If we need to do that again can we try a different way to lull the suspicions of our victim?”

Jennifer, now fully conscious, had realised her situation without understanding the reason for it. Even so she was not afraid to show that she was both angered and scared by what was going on, grunting vigorously into her scarf gag and throwing herself around the bed in an attempt to get loose.  Sandy looked down at the struggling girl. “You were right she is quite athletic, isn’t she. Are you OK for the next bit?” 

“Mmm, yes, fine,” said Heather. “No worse than after one of Snipcock’s book launches. Now where’s my satchel?” She picked the bag up from the floor and rummaged inside. Triumphantly she pulled out a hypodermic needle and a small phial containing a colourless liquid. She pushed the needle into the cork cap of the phial and drew a measured dose up into the barrel of the hypodermic. “Now if you could just help the patient to be quite still. This has to go into a vein and I wouldn’t want to have to try too many times.”

Sandy grabbed hold of Jennifer and twisted her right fore arm around exposing the veins in her wrist. Heather tapped the syringe, peered at it and pushed a small amount of the drug out to ensure that no bubbles of air were trapped in the needle. Then, ignoring Jennifer’s wide eyed terror and muffled protests she slipped the needle into a vein and pushed the plunger.

Jennifer felt a cold sensation in her arm and then unconsciousness returned.  

Sandy and Heather bundled the drugged Jennifer onto the wheel chair, put a blanket across her lap, pulled a scarf around her head and put a pair of dark glasses on her. They wheeled her out of her cabin and back towards the lift that would take them up to the promenade deck. As far as anyone they met in the corridors of the ship was concerned, the old lady was simply being taken out by her nurse for a breath of air.

“She’ll be out for several hours,” said Heather to Sandy, as they got her back to Agnes’s cabin. “She can have another shot this evening and she’ll be ready to leave the boat like this when we dock tomorrow morning.”

“No one will miss her from her cabin tonight with all the jollity of the Captain’s dinner,” said Sandy. “You couldn’t have met at a more convenient moment, if you have to bump into friends from your past.”

Jennifer, bound, gagged and unconscious was stretched out on Agnes’s bed. “What a very healthy looking young lady,” Agnes smiled, sitting beside her and running a finger down her cheek. “I do like the tone that exercise brings to the skin. So much more attractive than the pallor of a life of alcohol and tobacco.” She looked across at Heather who was sitting at the cabin’s cocktail bar with a drink in one hand, cigarette in the other. Heather simply scowled in return. She was used to Agnes’s bitchy comments.

Chapter 30: Atlantic Crossing (3)

Heather’s cabin on the liner may have been primitive when compared to the stateroom that Agnes and Sandy occupied but it was luxury indeed compared with the conditions that the triplets were enduring.

Their ordeal had started when they had been approached by the man, Crewson. He was in advertising he had said. Promoting a new soap. He was looking for three beautiful young ladies to be photographed for the advertisements. What could be better than triplets? The advertising slogan said “Three Ways Better; softer lather, deeper cleansing, smoother skin.” Triplets were ideal. He was sure he could get them a very good fee. It would all be very tasteful he said. He showed them the costumes that they would be photographed in; flowing Greek robes. Like goddesses, he had said.

Heidi, Hanni and Helen had been flattered by his words, attracted by the promise of the fee, and won over by the thought of their pictures appearing in all the newspapers.

He’d sworn them to secrecy. Other soap manufacturers were anxious to discover the secret of the promotional campaign. They’d gone to an old house where there was a folly of a Greek temple in the grounds. They hadn’t even been startled by the chains and manacles. “Like Andromeda,” he’d explained. “Imprisoned by problems of poor complexion, set free by Orion, the soap of the gods.”

And then, once they were chained, all pretence was abandoned. The gags had been pulled across their mouths, the chains replaced with harsh ropes. They’d been pushed into the wooden crates, the crates pushed onto a truck taking them away, until finally they were loaded onto the ship and handed over to the brutality of the captain and his crew.

They had been freed of their ropes and gags and shackled like the others in the cage at the bottom of the ship’s hold. They had been allowed to keep their robes but in a few days these were sweat stained, soiled, torn and grease streaked from the conditions in the cage.

As a result of Crewson’s threats neither the captain nor the crew dared rape any of the triplets. But, as the captain said, he hadn’t mentioned the others. The Scandinavian girl was popular with the crew and bore the brunt of their attentions.

And of course, Crewson had only said that the triplets had to stay unmarked. But, the Captain thought, they might prove susceptible to coercion and threat, especially threats to the well being of the others. They had been four days out at sea when the Captain sent for Hanni. They had kept the shackles on her wrists and ankles, of course, and Helen and Heidi had sobbed as they took Hanni from the cage but they had not hurt her. The Captain had given her soap and a bowl of warm water so that she could wash. There had been hot soup and bread which she had eaten greedily.

He wanted some company, he explained. It was a terrible job he had, having to cope with the animals they gave him as crew. He was pleased to have her there, he wanted her to spend the evening with him.

Hanni viewed the Captains advances with suspicion, but took the food nevertheless.

“Do you know what will happen to you?” the Captain asked as Hanni spooned broke another chunk of bread from the loaf.

She shook her head. “No, no,” was all she could say.

“The men that took you – they want to sell you. They’ll take you to where they have a market, you’ll be sold with the others.”

“Sold?” said Hanni. “How can people be sold? Why?”

“There are always men that will pay for women,” the Captain said. “For sex. To be their slaves. Who knows what else. There are many terrible men, you know.”

“Oh, we know nothing of sex. Heidi, Helen and I are virgins. What use would we be?”

The Captain almost choked on his beer. “You will need help. Perhaps when we get to our destination I could find some way to see that you are well treated.”

“Oh could you? It would mean so much to my sisters and me.”

“Possibly. I am not sure I could help your sisters as well though. It would be difficult. Three of you, you see.”

“But please, we’ve never been separated. It would be terrible to be parted!”

“Well, there is a chance, I suppose. If you have the skill. If you can please men in other ways. Then perhaps I could convince the people in the market that you should be sold together, but I don’t know, three times the cost – you see.”

“Oh, please, you must. What skills? I am sure we can do all sorts of things that would please these men.”

The captain sat down beside her and whispered in her ear as he slid one strap of her robe slowly from off her shoulder. Hanni began to sob as she listened to him, clutching her hands to her mouth as the Captain explained just how she could pleasure a man with her lips and her tongue. She shook her head in disbelief. “How can such a thing bring pleasure? To have a woman cowering on her knees before a man? To have her burying her head in his lap?”

“I know my dear,” the Captain said sympathetically, “it seems extraordinary but it’s true. And if all three of you could learn such a trick there is a chance that I can keep you together. Such skills would have a high price in the market.”

“So you could save us? Let us be together?”

The Captain shrugged his shoulders in a non-committed way. “Perhaps, with luck,” he said.

“But how could we learn? Heidi and Helen know nothing of this either. I had never even seen a man’s,” Hanni coughed with embarrassment, “thing, until I had to watch one of the crew with one of the other girls in the hold.”

“That must have been awful for you,” the Captain said with understanding, sliding his hand down from her naked shoulder to cup her breast.

Hanni shuddered but did not attempt to pull away. “Yes,” she said, “but I will try. My sisters and I, we will all try. Would you let me try with you now? Then I could tell my sisters what they must learn to do.”

“If you like,” said the Captain. “I’m sure you will not find it difficult.” He moved his hand from her breast to the back of her neck and guided her head towards his crotch. “Now unfasten my trousers, I am sure that you will catch on quite quickly.”