Suddenly, a gong sounded, the double doors were flung open with a flourish and four swarthy men entered the hall, each bearing a corner of a large solid silver platter on which a bound girl lay. Her body glistened like molten silver in the flickering candlelight, and, as she was brought to the table, Cressida recognised Katrina. She noticed that the raised welts on the sides of the girl’s thighs were, although carefully coated with paint, still discernible. Her short blond hair was slicked down like a golden helmet around her head. Her arms were stretched above her, the wrists lashed together with scarlet cord, palms inward. Her legs were splayed, the little strip of curls and her shaved, plump cunt lips on display for all to admire, ankles cuffed and securely attached to a spreader bar. S
