Follow/Fav Fall of the House of Usher
For a minute or two, Cathy kept her head down and tried to compose herself. What else could they possibly have in store for her? When would this whole nightmare come to an end? But her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone approaching. Looking up, she noticed Dolores' silver-suited henchwoman standing over her. But what really caught her eye was the pair of boots that she was carrying, which looked vaguely familiar to her, although it took a second or two longer for the truth to register. Yes, these were indeed her own boots!
Lifting Cathy back to her feet, the woman grabbed the reins and looped these around a sturdy railing, so that her neck was tethered only inches away from the wooden pole. Cathy suddenly felt a hand grab her left leg and pull her foot up behind her, and seconds later the undersized boot began to slowly slide down her calf. The tight fit made this a laborious process, but after much pulling and wrenching, the stubborn boot finally released its grip and hit the floor with a dull thud. With her right foot soon succumbing to the same process, for a brief period Cathy stood with nothing but the moulded feet of her spandex cat-suit between her and the carpet of straw. But within a matter of seconds, each leg in turn was once more forcibly bent backwards, as she experienced the sensation of her own boots gliding over her foot and up her shin. After the pain of the alien, cramped foot apparel, the familiarity of her own boots comforted not only her aching toes and arches, but also served to calm her mind to a certain degree, as the threat of falling and injuring herself - during whatever task she was about to be set - now receded somewhat. And it was soon apparent that this was Dolores' reason for the change of foot attire also.
The reins being released from their mooring post, Cathy found herself once more being led from her stall. At the main stable door, Dolores stood watching as her team of pony-girls made their way back into the open air. She caught Cathy's eye.
"You didn't really think that we were going to make you race in those heels, did you? No, they were just for the dressage event. If we'd let you all go cavorting around like that on the uneven terrain of the racecourse, we'd have lots of ponies with broken ankles by the time we'd finished."
Cathy looked at the other girls as they were marshalled by their handlers out into the warm afternoon sun. She noticed that they too had relinquished their high heels, and were now also shod in sensible footwear.
For a minute of two, the harnessed and bridled beauties, with their artificial manes and tails dancing in the soft breeze, were left milling around in a small group by the stable door, under the watchful eyes of Dolores and two of her helpers, whilst the other stable girls momentarily disappeared. Cathy's gaze strayed from the group, however, desperately hoping for a sign that some member of the general public - anyone from the outside world, in fact - was within range to observe what was happening and would choose to investigate. But the house was surrounded by trees and high walls, with no view possible from the road outside. She looked into the clear blue ether, hoping that a helicopter or light aircraft might just happen to be flying at low altitude over Shackleton Grange, and that the pilot might take note of the strange events taking place below and become suspicious. But the sky was devoid of Saturday afternoon aviators and their flying machines, and as had been the case since yesterday evening, luck seemed to have deserted her when it came to potential saviours appearing on the scene.
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Anyway, as night came falling and we choreographed the evenings caper,I felt that we were carrying on an old-fashioned, longstanding tradition:the natural reaction of the democratic (small D) tradition to elitist powerthat conceals itself within the cloak of privilege and secrecy.
Was 'Skulls and Bones' Member at YaleBackground to Skull and BonesNew York Observer investigationThe investigation continuesRites of initiationSkull and Bones videoEsquire articleThe TombBackground To The Skull and BonesInformation on Antony SuttonBuy Sutton's book on the Skull and Bones here'America's Secret Establishment, an introduction to the Order of Skull andBones' published by Liberty HousePress, Billings, Montana in 1986 is available priced £28.75 from BloomfieldBooks, 26 Meadow Lane, Sudbury,Suffolk, England, CO10 2TD.
Posts about The Fall of the House of Usher written by Lady Lazarus
Yet, althoughone of his first social gatherings at the White House was a Skull and Bonesreunion, Bush feigned ignorance when asked recently about Bones: "The thingis so secret that I'm not even sure it still exists," he replied.
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met the press with his choice for attorney general, John Ashcroft,before Christmas," Dowd wrote, "he vividly showed how important it is tohim that his White House be as leak-proof as the Skull & Bones 'tomb.'"Later that year, the Universal Pictures film introduced the secret societyto a new demographic perhaps uninitiated into the doctrines of modern-dayconspiracy theory.
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met the press with hischoice for attorney general, John Ashcroft, before Christmas, he vividlyshowed how important it is to him that his White House be as leak-proof asthe Skull & Bones tomb.That was less than a year after the Universal Pictures film introduced thesecret society to a new demographic perhaps uninitiated into the doctrinesof modern-day conspiracy theory.
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"Just what do you think you're doing here?"
Saskia jumped at the sound of a voice directly behind her, and turned in an instant to find a tall woman with long wavy hair of a similar colour to her own standing only feet away. She was wearing a bright red skin-tight latex cat-suit with a broad leather belt around her slim waist. On her feet she wore knee length leather boots with ultra high heels. Behind her, Saskia could see that her inquisitor was accompanied by three other women, dressed in similar attire to their colleague save for the fact that their outfits were of different colours; one in black, one pink and the third in silver. Also in contrast to the leader of the group, was the fact that these clearly subservient beings wore contour hugging hoods over their heads in the same hue as their outfits. These obscured all facial features save for the eyes and nostrils, with the only clue to their hair colour being deduced from the plume that sprouted from the backs of their heads in ponytail form. But Saskia's inspection of these unusually dressed women was soon interrupted by the voice of the leader of this patrol.
"I asked you what you were doing here. This is private property and you're trespassing. Now state your business or be on your way."
With fumbling fingers, Saskia retrieved her press badge from the pocket of her jacket and waved it under the nose of the woman who was standing no more than two feet away, towering menacingly over her. Her attempted explanation for her presence was both garbled and rambling. It was also a mixture of truth and fiction, as she tried to articulate the reasons for turning up here uninvited.
"My name's Saskia Lynton and I'm a reporter for the Suffolk Standard. I'm investigating the disappearance of a woman...well two women actually...and I've been reliably informed... well someone in the village told me...that one of them might have been on her way here when she disappeared...and I noticed lots of people turning up here today..and there was talk of strange activities - wild parties in fact - taking place here...and the gates were open... so I came in to see what was going on...I'm sorry, I didn't know that this was private property...I'll leave straight away... if you'll just open the gates for me...I'll..."
Saskia stopped in mid flow, as she saw that the woman, whose face had been stern and angry up until now, was smiling at her.
"Well you've got the bit about the party right, as we're having what we call our BATH night, this evening. As for missing women, however, I don't know who your informant might be, but they're way off the mark with that one. What do you think we do here, kidnap young damsels and hold them against their will?"
It was a rhetorical question, and Saskia was given no opportunity to respond anyway, as the woman continued without a pause.
"But if you don't believe me, I can show you around and let you see that I've got nothing to hide. As you've obviously already gathered from what you've just witnessed, our main focus here is on bondage in all its wonderful forms and varieties. But none of the girls attending today is being held against their will, I can assure you of that. Everyone is here because they either like tying or being tied."
Suddenly, an idea seemed to come to her.
"I'll tell you what, come inside and have some tea, and I'll give you an interview on what the BATH society and philosophy is all about. There's a lot of misinformation and bullshit spread by ignorant people about our work here - and bondage in general - so maybe you could print a more favourable piece in your paper and let the world know that we're quite a harmless lot really."
Saskia had no idea what BATH stood for, and was in completely uncharted territory when it came to the 'art' - if that was what it could be classified as - of tying someone up. But maybe being granted an interview would be an enlightening experience, and a tour of the house could perhaps either dispel or confirm any suspicions that she had about the missing women having ever been here.
Without further prompting, the woman moved off towards a side door situated a few yards from where they had been standing. For a millisecond, Saskia baulked at the idea of leaving the relative safety of the brightly lit outdoors and venturing inside the dark confines of the house. After all, two women had disappeared without trace in the vicinity recently. Was she about to become the third? She quickly banished such thoughts from her mind, however. She was a reporter, she told herself, and getting the biggest stories was always going to be fraught with elements of danger. So, with curiosity taking precedence over caution, she found herself obediently following the retreating latex-clad figure. As they neared the entrance, she glanced back to find that one of the hooded girls had fallen in behind her, whilst the other two were flanking her on either side, as if ensuring that she didn't stray from the route chosen for her. Saskia's mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions now, as the woman led her into a house which - she still had her suspicions - could be harbouring at least one, if not two vanished women. What questions should she ask? Should she start by asking about the so called parties that were thrown here, then gradually build up to the allegation that something underhand, not to mention illegal, might be going on? But it seemed her questions would have to wait, as the woman remained silent and aloof while she led the way further into the maze of dimly lit corridors.