Mastering the Virgin Box Set Five: A BDSM Ménage Erotic Romance novel Chapter 51

“He’ll be back.”

The following night, three dozen small alert bodies lie under their covers, waiting.

And in the cold dark hours, there is the sound of scraping and grinding. “Tommy?”

“Yes, it’s me. Just keep quiet and let me know if you hear anyone moving.”

Two girls dart to the door to the corridor, listening. All is silent save for the slight metallic grinding noise, the rasp of metal biting metal.

Somewhere in the building, a toilet flushes.

“There's someone below you.” a piping voice warns.

The rasping noise stops.

After a few seconds, there are the dull thuds of heavy boots echoing on bare wooden boards and the bang of a door somewhere far off in the building.

“I think it’s alright now.”

And the noise resumes, a thin quiet fretting sound heard only by those gathered closely around.

With the grate and scrape of grit and cement, a bar slides out of its socket.

The voice murmurs through the glass. I’ve got one out. It’ll be faster now. I can pick at the cement for the others. A ripple of excitement runs through the group.

The scraping noise changes tone, the picking away of mortar from stone. After only a few minutes there is another sliding, grating sound. “That’s the second one. Katy, get whatever clothes you’ve got on. This last one won’t take long. We’re leaving.”

Girls of all sizes, ages and races scuttle around, silently as they can, pulling on threadbare dresses, tattered woollens, extra socks; anything they have. Layer on tattered layer. None of them owns a coat. You only need a coat if you go outside. None owns outdoor shoes or boots. Light indoors slippers must suffice against the winter.

The last of the steel bars sucks out of its socket and with only a moment more effort on cracked and perished caulking, the glass follows.

Arms fling out through the gap. “Tommy! Tommy! I thought I'd never see you again.”

“Whoa! Careful now. Don’t topple me. It’s a long way down. Now, come on, we're getting out of here quick.”

Katy hesitates, looking around her. “But what about everyone else?”

“What about them? I came for you.” Tom dithers, then looks through the window. He sees faces young and very young, pale, pink, brown, black. All big-eyed, expectant, watching him.

“They don't want to be here either,” says Katy, matter-of-factly.

Of course they don’t….

Do they have brothers somewhere?

Mothers? Fathers?

“Ah, shit!” he mutters. “Let me in, quick now, and quietly.”

A dozen pairs of hands pull him in, rolling him over the ledge to the floor. And as he settles, flashing his torch around, his stomach clutches. “Ah, Christ Jesus…”

A tiny girl, perhaps six years old, pixie-faced stares at him, sucking her thumb. Another girl, much taller than the rest, offers a hand to help him upright. She’s a looker. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

And he knows that her luck has timed out. “What’s your name?”

“Isabella.”

“Right all of you, come on. You’ve got to be quiet and careful. Isabella, the bigger ones will have to help the little ones. You climb down this ladder to that ledge on the roof over there….” He points. “It’s roped on. The ladder won’t fall, but you have to hang on. From there, follow that roof-line….” He draws paintings in the air as heads hang out of the window, following his fingers. “At the end, you can scramble down a broken-down wall and out. Isabella,” He jabs at the tall girl. “You go first, and I’ll pass the other ones out and down.”

She nods. “What about the boys?”

“The boys?”

“They’re in the next dorm. It’ll be the next window along.”