Chapter 6

The next morning, the girls were granted a period of grace, for they woke with absolutely no memory of what was to take place that day, until the door opened and the doctor came in.

“Oh!” Lavinia said softly.

“Good morning, Lavinia, Matilda,” the doctor said. “I have the medicine for you. It won’t take effect until about noon. There is no nausea, so you won’t have to omit breakfast. I suggest that when Mrs. Hatchett shows you into your separate rooms, you lie down and close your eyes and just let your minds go. The drug will take effect much faster, and your period will begin sooner. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. I would like to see you after breakfast, but I can’t, so Mrs. Hatchett will give you any necessary last-minute instructions.”

“Are you busy?” Lavinia asked.

“Yes,” the doctor chuckled. “Mr. Rimmer did a strange thing last night. He escaped. The same way you two escaped, only out through a different route. But the result was the same. He was arrested and brought to court. I’m going in to bring him back. He has to do another year here beyond his cure date, now. Same as the two of you. I know it’s bad for him, but I can’t help seeing the humor in the old man’s conduct. He’s a funny old fellow.”

“Here, you may as well take these now, then go on and have breakfast. I’ll see you in a couple of days at most.”

He handed the pills to the girls, and they swallowed them. Then the doctor was gone.

On the light note of Mr. Rimmer’s escape and capture, Matilda and Lavinia went off to eat, ate little, and on their way out of the cafeteria, they were approached by Mrs. Hatchett.

“Come on, girls,” she said cheerfully, “I’ll take you to your rooms.”

They entered a seldom-frequented wing of the building and stopped before a door.

“This is yours, Matilda. Go on inside and lie down on the bed. We’ll be watching, and it will be pleasant anyway, so don’t worry about a thing, dear.”

Lavinia kissed Matilda goodbye and went on down the hall with Mrs. Hatchett. A few doors more, and they were at her room.

“Here you go, Lavinia. Have pleasant dreams.”

“I will, hopefully,” Lavinia said. Then the door closed behind her, and she was gone.

The room was an ordinary one-room apartment with an adjoining bathroom. The bed was wide and soft. She took her clothes off, showered quickly, and dried herself, then stretched out on the bed. She was already drowsy, but had no idea if this was a result of the drug or natural weariness.

The walls of the apartment were pale blue. Very pleasant. And the soft mist seeping from the invisible pores of the walls was also pleasant. Very soft, damp, shimmering, as if veiling a muted light. She felt the comfortable mattress under her body and saw the ceiling, obscured completely now by the mist. Something was there. A painting? A ceiling mural? She couldn’t be certain. She tried hard to focus her eyes and peer through the mist. Leaves. Heavy branches covered with thick leafy foliage towered above her, breaking away into patches of clear blue sky. A few birds sailed far overhead. Somewhere water lapped at the edges of a pond. Grass rustled. The air was rich and loamy with the fecund odors of virgin woods.

Lavinia, dripping naked, emerged from the crystal stream and walked across the thick green grass of the forest floor. The water was like liquid crystal, cool and refreshing. She liked the way it glistened in little diamond droplets over the smooth, tawny surface of her skin. She hadn’t wet her hair, and it hung now in dry, sheafy bundles down her back. It swirled and brushed luxuriously against her slim waist, the smooth, round globes of her ass.

She reached the grape-hung clearing where she wanted to lie in the drowsy shade, and she stretched out on the moss. Then she heard the music. Faint at first, so it was impossible to determine what sort of instrument was producing the music, it became more distinct second by second, as if the music source were mobile, approaching her with sure, strong strides. She sat up and listened intently now. There was some alien factor, some strange quality in the music which fascinated her. It was like the wood itself had awoken, giving voice to its deep, leafy fecundity. The music was the soft wind blowing over still dales, through the leaf-gorged knots of trees and shrubbery, out of the dank, mysterious caves. She became entranced. She rose and walked a few steps toward the approaching music, passing out of the clearing and into the thicker part of the forest. She was surrounded by thick shadows, and the green incense of trees, untouched directly by sunlight for years.

The satyr came out of one of the darkest of these shadows, with a bound, stopping short on his cloven hooves, slowly taking the pipe from his heavy, sensual lips. His body carried the rank odor of fur and perspiration, and another, unmistakable odor, similar to the heat odor of livestock. His legs from the waist down were thick with dark fur, and from the waist up he had the human physique of a bodybuilder. His whole facial expression was one of uninhibited lust and joy.

Lavinia saw the creature and gasped. Not frightened to flight, she became even more entranced by the creature’s beauty. He was pure animal grace as he did a little expressive dance around her, bringing once more to his lips the reed flute with which he had made the lovely music. This time, the sharp, clear notes went through her like arrows. Her nerves tingled, and then her attention shifted, almost as if forced by some external entity, toward the satyr’s genitals.

His nuts were like billiard balls, in a leathery, furry pouch that swung low between his legs as he danced. And his cock was the most splendid organ Lavinia had ever seen. As wide and thick as a man’s wrist, it was about nine inches long, with a glans the size of a crab apple. The sheath was covered with a fine, felt-like fur. The bestial cock was partly erect, but growing firmer with each step toward Lavinia.

At the last instant, when the satyr dropped his pipes and leaped for her, she panicked! With a frightened, girlish shriek, she bolted and dashed back toward the clearing and the stream.

But her flight was useless.

She felt the thing’s hot, musky breath on her back, then his strong, sinewy arms around her waist, and the great weight of his body dragging her to the soft earth. She squirmed and struck at the satyr, who laughed now, lustily, with a sound approximating the joyous whinny of a goat, or perhaps a small horse. His toothy jaw closed over one of her firm vanilla breasts. His teeth sank in, and with his rough, porous tongue, he worried her nipple until it burst forth, swollen like a ripe fruit.

Aware that she was at the creature’s unnatural, whimsical mercy, she stopped resisting and pretended to have fainted.