The King in Yellow Chapter Eighteen

KATYA’S ORDEAL

Entering the main hall, Katya looked around in wonder. The room was a riot of Bokhara carpets and cushions, hangings of silk and muslin, loops of chain and rope. At irregular intervals along the walls preserved heads hung by their hair. There were nameplates beneath them; Alexandra’s and Rosa’s heads were there and a beautiful blonde head in the centre of the facing wall was labelled “Elena”. She turned to Grigori to ask about this, but then remembered her place.

“Lie here” he told her, indicating the great refectory table. It was lit by bleeding women who hung from their ankles by chains slung between pillars, each with a candle lodged in her cunt and another in her arse. They sighed and panted as they writhed in their bonds, hopelessly straining to avoid the hot wax running over their lips. Katya climbed onto the polished oak surface and lay sprawled on her back like a bride awaiting her man – or a victim awaiting the priest. Grigori went back the way he had come and left her for several hours, alone with the soft moans of the human candlesticks and the memory of Dana’s ecstatic sacrifice.

At last, a door creaked open and Katya opened her eyes wide, chewing her lower lip and digging her nails into her palms to contain her excitement. Leon and Andrei took their places either side of her; they had washed and changed into silk suits and they were discussing the new editor of ‘Cinema Review’. Out of the corner of her eye, Katya saw a pale-skinned girl with fine, ash-blonde hair. Completely nude, she hurried to and fro bringing the men glasses of wine, heavy cutlery and linen napkins in ivory rings.

“We should find the text of his address to the academy,” said Leon “then we could decide for ourselves”. Andrei murmured assent, and then both turned as Grigori entered from the kitchen. He, too, was dressed immaculately and he carried a great mound of bloody steaks on a silver salver that he placed on the table between Katya’s trembling thighs. She panted and ran her tongue around her lips as he leant across her to lay slices of rare meat over her outspread body, warm and dripping. All conversation had ceased, and the men paid close attention as Grigori placed the steaks across her bosom and stomach slowly and carefully; Katya ran her fingers over her face and through her hair, fighting the urge to arch her back and writhe at his gentle touch.

“Eat, all of you” Grigori laughed.