Doris

While Arthur was being secured to the wall, his world reduced to the rough wood against his skin and the suffocating darkness of the hood, Leo was leading Doris through a different part of the estate. They left the manicured lawns behind, following a winding, wooded path that opened into a small, secluded clearing. In the center stood a round, flagstone building, its ancient stone covered in moss, with ornate, pagan-style carvings on the surrounding pillars. It looked like a forgotten temple.

Leo pushed open the heavy, carved wooden doors, and Doris gasped. The room inside was circular, lit by shafts of light from high, narrow windows. It was not a temple, but a museum. Adorning the walls and displayed on pedestals were ancient devices and equipment of torture. Iron maidens, racks, braziers, and strange, multi-limbed chairs with straps and buckles, all crafted from dark, worn wood and pitted, rust-coloured iron.

Leo smiled at her reaction and held out his hand. "This is Lady Bellows's private collection," he said softly. "A history of persuasion." He led her around the room, his presence a steady, calming force.

Beside every exhibit was a small, elegantly written placard. But the illustrations were not the usual historical diagrams. Each one depicted a man being tormented, while a woman, serene and dominant, was the one applying the device. The Iron Maiden had a woman turning the spike-lined key. The rack had a woman at the wheel. The imagery was a constant, unblinking theme of female power over the male form. Somehow, that spoke to Doris, somewhere deep in the back of her head. It felt ancient and right.

She started touching the exhibits, her fingers tracing the cold iron clasps of a set of stocks, rubbing the worn, smooth wood of a pillory. She could feel the history in them, the echoes of suffering and submission.

Leo stopped her before a particularly menacing-looking chair, a high-backed throne with manacles at the arms and legs and a heavy band that would fit around the neck. "Can you imagine a man secured in this?" he murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through her. "These tightening around his wrists and ankles... and this band slowly, slowly tightened around his neck."

Doris could. She could see it with perfect, horrifying clarity. She looked at the piece, then at Leo, and a bizarre, thrilling thought crossed her mind. She'd love to see him locked into any of these pieces. The thought was so potent, so unexpected, that it made her dizzy.

Just then, a door at the back of the room opened, and a woman stepped out. It was Dr. Jenny, though she was no longer wearing the soft cardigan. She was in simple, practical trousers and a shirt, her hair still in its gentle ponytail. She smiled warmly.

"Leo," she said, her voice friendly. She then turned to Doris. "Hello, I'm Jenny. I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

"Doris, this is Jenny," Leo said. "Jenny manages the... exhibits."

"A pleasure," Doris said, her eyes still wide.

"We were just admiring the collection," Leo said. "I was wondering if we might be able to view the back room? The active exhibition area?"

Jenny's smile didn't falter. "It's in use right now," she said, her tone casual. "But I don't think that will be a problem. It's always educational to see a live demonstration. Please, follow me."

She led them towards the door she had just come through. Another surprise awaited Doris. The room was stark, modern, its walls painted a deep, intimidating red. And there, strapped to a large St. Andrew's cross, was a near-naked man, a black burlap sack over his head. His body was trembling visibly. Standing beside him, running the long, thin tresses of a horsewhip through her fingers, was the tall lady in leather. Doris recognized her from the feeds she had watched on her pad.

The lady looked over as they entered, her expression one of mild annoyance at the interruption, which quickly melted into a polite, professional smile.

"Apologies for the interruption," Jenny said cheerfully. "We have a guest. I thought she might benefit from observing the practical application of our methods."

The woman in leather, the head nurse, gave a slight nod. "Of course. We were just about to begin the sensitization exercises." She looked directly at Doris, her eyes sharp and assessing. "It's always good to have an audience. It helps to reinforce the lesson.”