Even at a distance measured in inches and with her hair wet from the lapping of the waves beneath the ship's bowsprit, the ocean seemed as green as when viewed from the deck above. The girl suspended by the rope around one ankle could gaze at the infinitely deep ocean to behold the sleek silhouettes of sharks, predators who knew she was prey, but who's sudden, swift jaws had so far been foiled by those who controlled the rope above. They lifted her struggling nakedness just the amount needed to bring them out of reach of the little, pig eyes and the underslung jaws. But the sharks were patience as each saw it luscious girl flesh rise out of reach another would measure distance and in its own time make another attack. But it would miss, and the naked girl, one Miss Amaril Summers would scream anew and bend to clutch frantically at the rope tether she could not reach. At such moments the biting band of rope around a single feminine ankles seemed a mere thread by which to cheat the predators below. When the next ravenous lunge thrust pig eyes and questing jaws above the surface, the girl being drawn swiftly out of reach, contorting fearfully to clutch her legs, felt the solid impact of the hard blunt nose upon her spine before the huge fish slid back from where it came.
It was the sixth time.
Karl Kypers sought profit where he found it around the world. The deck on which he stood was his own property as was a hundred more. His heavy blonde muscular body stood with feet apart as he gazed down at the lovely nudity who's sobbing breathes were those of hysterical and ultimate fear. Miss Amaril Summers had come close to running the course. The shark treatment was effective, he had used it before. This girl, striving to catch her breath and calm her emotions, was conditioned to yield profit. Pleasure would follow as the captain's perquisite.
"Turn over and stop that noise." Kypers' foot thrust demandingly below a breast.
Amaril complied. Compared with the sharks, nothing mattered. The whole crew had seen her frontal nakedness and if Kypers wished to leer at it again, he could. The still wet rope constricting her ankles told Amaril, with a bitter eloquence all its own, the totality of her defeat. Instinctively her hands covered her eyes to blot out a world she did not wish to see. But her arms were kicked aside to leave them limply out thrust and her body open to male desire.
"Want us to toss you overboard again?"
Amaril's negative shake of her head became a full length shutter and her whispered, "No, oh no!" was barely audible.
"Damn it, girl! Look at me, speak up."
Kypers was ageless within a tolerance of thirty years. Amaril had first seen him at one of those dinners where the very wealthy get together and make deals that will make them even richer. There Karl Kypers' wealth had assured his inclusion. He towered above her now, sun-bronzed and clad only in shorts, his quiet regard holding only the assurance of possession.
"No, I don't want to be tossed overboard again," she said with a quiet firmness. "I beg of you, don't lower me again." She frankly met his eyes. "That's what you want, isn't it, for me to beg?" In sudden urgency she added, "Please may I get this rope off my ankle, it hurts?"
"Leave it alone. You're not home free yet. Stand up and cross your wrists behind your back."
This was no time for disobedience. Slowly the captive girl stood up and turned her back. Passively she crossed her wrists behind her and held her hands away from her body to make it easy for the ropes. When they came, they bit savagely to make her gasp but withhold protest. From the rail the two men who had jerked her up and down between safety and the sharks watched in cynical amusement as she was tied. One still held the far end of the rope by which her ankle remained tethered. In genuine curiosity Amaril asked, "Why must you tie me? I can't hurt any of you. And I'm certainly not going to jump overboard."
"A bit of rope around a girl's wrists tell her where she is and what she is." Kypers' tone was as if stating the obvious.
"Please, may I be covered? A towel or something?"
"Don't be silly Miss Summers. Keeping you bare is as useful as keeping you bound. You'll get used to it."
"Very well. When will you release me?"
The reply was swift and silent. Karl Kypers picked up the naked girl and carried her with ease to the rail and the waiting men. In pure terror Amaril fought to control her voice. "No! I'll do or say whatever you want. Don't hang me upside down again. Oh, please don't."
"You were starting to talk to me like a lackey. You need a lesson." The dark shapes were still there, waiting. Rope once more burned her ankle. Now she was robbed of hands but they had not helped before, a naked girl cannot fight a shark. Amaril's wail was not only of fear but also of anguish and frustration.
Half way to the water the rope held her motionless. Kypers' voice was casual. "If I were to pull you up, would you forget Preston Summers daughter?"
"Yes! Oh, yes... ! I'm - I'm sorry. Not again, oh please not again!"
All pride had fled. Amaril's sobs were hard to control as she stood once more upon the deck, head bowed in total humility, wrists twisting against the cord. At a nod from Kypers the two crewmen departed to other duties than the torture of a girl. They left reluctantly but Amaril took heart from their departure. But the rope remained tight upon her ankles.
"I'm frightened," she confessed miserably. "Please tell me how you wish to behave. I guess questions are out of order."
"Damn right they are. I'll tell you all you need to know. But you don't need to stand there like a drowned rat. Get your chin up."
"But I am a drowned rat. You've taken all the fight out of me. Please tell me what I must do. I don't want to go over the side again.
Kypers grasped her by the shoulders, his eyes aflame, and shook her gently.
"It does me good to see the daughter of Preston Summers like this. That son of a bitch turned me down on a deal and wasn't all that polite about it." He chuckled comfortably. "I'll have one of the boys take a few pictures of you as you are. When he gets them, he'll get the message."
The captive girl choked her obvious, "What are you going to do with me?" into silence. She shook water out of her hair, the most she could do with bound wrists, and looked at her captor.
"I'll keep you as long as you amuse me," he answered her unasked question. "I'll use your body... You expect that?"
"Yes."
"Remember that old term about 'putting someone in irons?" Kypers' voice held a sneer. "That's what I'll do with you when you bore me. There's a well-equipped brig aboard this ship, you'll get to know it quite well."
Once more Amaril choked down protest. She feared his second threat less than his first, confinement was implicit in her new conditions. "Irons" might hurt her less than cords savagely tight such as those she now wore. She frankly met his gaze.
"I must accept what you just told me. There's nothing I can say, is there?"
"Hell, yes, and it will make things easier for you. For starters, give me the details of your old man's deal with Triangle. I might give your hands back to put it in writing."
"I don't know about the deal with Triangle." Amaril felt her heart sinking. "It's my sister, Megan, whose the businesswoman. She's father's right hand even thought she not much older than I. She doesn't attend social functions so I guess you mistook me for her. I don't hold it against you, its an honest mistake."
She saw his brief flicker of uncertainty before he barked, "What's your name?"
"Amaril."
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"Lying would do me no good, not the way you've got me. You can easily check. Have someone check is Megan's not in the office. She will be. Now that I've been kidnapped, the whole organization will be on the alert. She'll be guarded day and night."
"The invincible Preston Summers, eh! Any way you look at it, I've got his daughter. Anyways he'll come to terms."
"I suppose ransom wouldn't do?"
"Hell no! I've more money than any ransom every paid. I'll take it out of your hide."
Amaril kicked at her imprisoned foot and twisted at imprisoned wrists. She had never felt more helpless in her life, nor more frustrated. Karl Kypers could do as he pleased with her. He was, in fact, actually doing as he pleased right now. Surely no girl had every been more ashamed or more terrified than she. The idea of hanging upside down as a feast for hungry sharks caused a fresh shutter to possess her nudity. Kypers noted it.
"Got you scared, haven't I? Every have your ass whipped?"
"Don't be silly." Amaril recoiled in horror at her own exclamations. "I'm... I'm sorry! Really, I'm sorry, it just slipped out. It just seemed so incongruous. No one's ever whipped me, why should they?"
"You'll be whipped aboard this ship, honey." Kypers' tone was almost kind. "You've got a lot to learn and I don't know a better way than tracing you up to the rigging and having one of the boys redden your bottom."
Amaril winched at the vision his words evoked. It was unreal but yet could happen. She was unsure of this man. Rumor had named him both sadist and saint. Actually he had not yet hurt her - unless terror counted as hurt! Contemplating his threat, she said simply, "I don't want that to happen to me. If there is anything I can say or do to avoid it, please tell me. Please understand, those sharks have taken away my courage."
Kypers made no reply. Instead he slowly and thoughtfully looped the long rope from her ankles until it was all in a smooth coil. He hung this around her neck, partly covering her breasts. Taking her by the arm he led her from the seen.
Kypers' cabin bespoke the man, it was pure luxury. The coil of rope was taken from her neck but its grip remained firm about her ankle. Amaril, herself, was thrown, like a bag of potatoes, upon the bed and there, with hands still bound, was raped with immense competence. She supposed rape was the proper word but that was academic. The act which should have been of love was cunningly prolonged to where she no longer had the will to hate or feel revolution. Kypers' powerful loins conquered her totally to bring her to orgasm after reluctant orgasm. The bound girl knew herself conquered beyond any vision of her dreams. Afterwards Kypers slept and his captive maiden made no move to leave the bed. She was exhausted and there was no where to go. Awaking, Karl Kypers took her once more by the arm and gave her the coil of her own tether to hold behind her back in helpless hands.
The desk between them was a wide expanse of polished mahogany. Amaril could see in it the man who held her prisoner should she chose to raise her head, but raising her head had become difficult. Mostly she stared at the floor and its expensive rug. No time had been wasted on her arrival at Kypers' office, her bound hands had been raised behind her back to some apparatus above. Her arms were now just high enough so she could not stand erect but was forced to bend forward, her hair falling around her head in disarray, as if paying homage to the men who now owned her. Her fastening had been accomplished with an extreme ease to tell her clearly she was not the first victim of such treatment. Her tethered ankle still throbbed against the rope, the coil of which was beside her on the floor as if a constant reminder of the awaiting sharks.
Kypers' voice was crisp and businesslike. "If you look up you can see this sheet of paper. I'm prepared to jot down anything you would care to say. I would suggest, for your own benefit, you give me material to fill this page and several others."
He had to be bluffing - surely Kypers must know he had gotten the wrong girl! Amaril said so in quiet, desperate tones. "I'll tell you all I know but you won't be satisfied with it, you'll think I'm lying. I just don't know about that Triangle things, I only just heard of it."
The silence was dreadful. The bound girl asked that her strictured arms be lowered to comfort. Her condition was demoralizing but she knew it would be made much worse. She remembered reading of the strappado of the Inquisition. She could be raised until her feet were off the floor, the dislocation of her arms would follow. Her whole being was possessed by an overwhelming vulnerability. Striving for normalcy, she said quietly, "I'm not much good to you except for the purpose you have just used. Please don't punish me uselessly. If you enjoyed me, keep me just for that."
Kypers left his chair and made adjustments by which Amaril's arms rose higher from her bound hands. Her shoulders were cruelly wracked and it was doubly painful to try and raise her head. Kypers resumed his seat.
"How about I leave you alone like this for an hour or two? Give you time to think?"
"No, oh no!" Amaril's voice was feverish with anxiety. "Please check on what I've said, you'll discover it's true. Please don't punish me."
She might not have spoken. When the door closed to leave her alone in Kypers' office, Miss Amaril Summers knew pure panic. Never in her rich and pampered life had she known of treatment like this. She and Megan had talked of the possibilities of being kidnapped but neither of them had seriously believed it would happen. Being kidnapped was something that happened to others. To be kidnapped by a man like Kypers and for his motives was way, way out beyond imagining. Thoughts of her family brought tears which fell softly upon the rug.
It was a beastly way to be tied, tantalizing and effective. In hope of easement, Amaril stepped tentatively forward and then back. She could move only twelve inches. Her binding was so unreal she felt certain there must be someway out, some way to ease the awful stress upon her arms. But if there was it eluded her so that, clutching at straws, she turned around as she was free to do. It helped her not at all but brought the chair into view. It was an ordinary office chair but if her foot could bring it close, she could stand on it and find comfort until her captor returned. What might happen then she did not chose to think.
Amaril spent a painful minute in painful contortions before realizing Kypers had probably placed the chair deliberately just out of reach. She abandoned the effort, allowing her gaze to return to the rug beneath her feet. She did not even consider trying to free her hands. Her wrists hurt enough without adding to the pain. In any case her fingers were becoming numb and the captive girl realized it was best to do nothing and make no move. Had Kypers returned she would have pledged anything for the lowering of her hands. Kypers' "hour or two" stretched endlessly into infinity.
It was not Kypers but a youthful and grinning seaman who came to bring relief to tortured arms. Amaril's response to his appearance was computer-swift, "Help me get free. Notify my father, he'll make you a rich man. Please!"
He stood and cheerfully surveyed her awkwardly bound nudity in a manner to make her blush. "The name's Vince, Miss Summers. Can the bribes, there ain't no way you can get back to your Papa. How'd it be I screw you for starters? You're in a real fancy position."
Amaril's blush was hot enough to feel, her reply crisp, "Kypers would kill you."
"You're wrong there. Kypers is a good guy. What you've got there can't be worn out, he could care less."
"Please untie me. I'm hurting something awful. At least lower my arms."
"Every try it dog-fashion, you're fixed just right?"
Dog-fashioned? Raped in the rear in a millionaire's office by a grinning young seaman? But all Miss Amaril Summers could think to say was to plead wanly, "Please set me free, I promise I won't give you any trouble."
Vince was a virile as she feared. He held her hips and entered her with ease, his hands strong enough to hold her and move her as he pleased. Her posture excited him and the act was soon over. By the sounds Vince made, he must have found joy within her sheath. But for Amaril it had been only one more unsatisfactory shame.
"Didn't expect you'd enjoy it much but I sure did. You've got damned good equipment. Miss Summers, in case you've never seen yourself like this. Sometime you should back up to a mirror and bend over."
Amaril's rapist and rescuer did what was needful to allow her bound hands to fall into place behind her back, the tethering rope was gone. She stood erect, suddenly stiff and unexpectedly grateful for his hand on her arm.
"Don't suppose it was much fun for you," he said as he brushed her hair back to tidied her up a bit. "Want I should screw you every chance we get, Miss Summers? We'll get lots of opportunities and it's a pity to waste them."
"Whatever you wish. I've got nothing to say about it, I'm helpless."
"It's nicer when the girl wants it, Miss Summers, you know that. Don't be a spoil sport. The boss ain't gonna miss what you got to give away. I hear tell he's damned good at it. You're a lucky girl."
The girl with tied hands and roped ankle did not answer. She felt only the depths of abasement which brought the tears once more to her eyes. What events had just done to her seemed and accentuation of all that had gone before. Glumly, she pleaded, "Can't you take that rope off my ankle, it serves no purpose?"
Unexpectedly he bent and loosened it. Then he coiled the rope. "Don't be too sure you won't yet make a shark's dinner," he told her seriously. "That trick's a favorite with the boss. A nip or two from a shark makes any girl says yes in a fast hurry. There was one time... But never mind that." He grasped her arm with one hand while carrying the looped rope with the other. "Come along. I've got something to show you."
"I'm sure you have. But first please untie my hands. I promise I won't cause you the least bit of trouble."
He did not answer. Evidently the untying of a girl's hands was too absurd to even consider or warrant a reply. Miss Amaril Summers allowed herself to be led from the office out into the corridor and was quite certain the frequent encounters with crew members was not accidental. She sought each pair of eyes but there were none that offered hope. She was simply a piece of cargo upon a rich man's ship.
Amaril shivered even though the air was warm. She gazed at bolts and rivets and the narrow bench that ran along one wall. It, too, was of steel but would presumably be her bed as well as a place to sit. Iron rings hung suggestively here and there around the walls, there were even a couple heavily imbedded in the floor. A sizeable porthole provided sufficient light but was bolted and locked against any escape. She easily guessed the purpose to which the pole would be put but her more instant attention was riveted to a pile of chain and the open jaws of shackles. She had not believed the term "put in irons" but she believed it now. Those polished circlets of steel were waiting just for her!
"It ain't exactly what you'd call home, Miss Summers, but you ain't suppose to be all that comfortable."
"But those chains and... things! Surely you don't intend to use them on me?"
"Come of it, Miss Summers, you know damn well there's for you. C'mon, let's try you out for size."
"But you can't possibly! There's made for male prisoners or animals. I'm just a girl!"
"And a damned pretty one, Miss. You got the loveliest tits I ever did see. And that nice patch of black curls... Jeepers, I can see why Kypers grabbed you, you're grade A pussy."
The tied girl stood passively as the pile of metal links were pulled apart to reveal the purpose of each length of chain. Each shackle was exquisitely crafted and must have cost Kypers a great deal of money. The first one place upon her ankle revealed a snug fit as if tailored, its chain snaking away to be padlocked to one of the waiting rings in the floor. The rope bum on her other ankle was now replaced by smooth and shinning steel. There was nothing feminine about the irons but Amaril found herself grateful they were not of ugly, rusted metal as the words "ironed" implied. She did not bother to protest, there was something inevitable about what was taking place. Perhaps some distance ancestor had be so fastened by such things in ancient times! Had not many of the Virginia colonists come to their new land similarly shackled? She had read of it.
"They won't stop you doing much, Miss Summers, they're mostly for the principle of the thing. Keep you knowing where you're at."
"I'm kidnapped and I'm going to be locked inside this horrible steel cell. I don't need these as a remainder."
"You get them anyway, Miss. This collar is sort of rough but you'll notice the chain is lighter than the others, you'll handle it." Amaril from the pounding of her heart and was well aware of the heaving of her breasts as her head was tilted to accommodate another band of shining steel. She was surprised at its tiny diameter but it fits as snugly as the others and snapped with an ominous click. It would be uncomfortable but could be endured. Thankfully she felt Vince tugging at the ropes on her wrists. When they were free she gratefully massaged one while Vince, with surprising chivalry, performed the save service for the other. But he warned, "They gotta be chained, y'know. Can't have those pretty little hands running around loose."
"I don't see why not. I don't see why I have to be chained at all. That boss of yours is simply being mean."
Vince made no comment. Disgustedly, the captive girl held out her wrists to receive the metal bands, each closing with the snap of finality, each now bearing the weight of many links.
"You get off light this first time, Miss Summers. Could be a lot worse as you may find out one of these days," Vince warned with his usual bonhomie. "You look real pretty. Take a gander."
There was no looking glass, the horrible cell held no amenities whatsoever. But these chains allowed a strange freedom. Amaril stepped away from the bench, turned this way and that, and stretched her arms. Discovering the limits of this new bondage, she walked boldly towards the end of the cell and found herself snubbed short of the far wall. She could reach the door and the port hole and accommodate herself full length upon the bench. What more did she need! Having made these discoveries and noting that each link of chain was locked to accommodating rings, she turned to her jailer to ask, "What happens now, Vince?"
"Nothing happens, Miss Summers," Vince said apologetically. "That's gonna be the hell of it, this nothing business. You just sit still and wait. I hope you're good a going to sleep."
"Can't I have things to read?"
"Sorry, you don't get nothing 'cept lots of time to think."
"But what about water and... and...?" She broke off in blushing confusion.
"That's been figured on, Miss Summers, look." Vince lifted the surface of the bench to a length of three feet to disclose a tab, a bowel and a cup. To one side was the facility which had caused her blush. There was also a towel which, quaintly enough, was chained so it could not be used as covering for a girl's nakedness. "I wouldn't tear that towel loose if I was you," Vince advised earnestly as he replaced the lid. "There you are, all ship shape. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Only give me freedom."
It was their last exchange. The brig's steel door closed with a frightening clang followed by the sound of bolts thrust home. Then silence, the silence of the grave.
Along with her thoughts, Amaril explored her bonds. Each one was separate, leading from wrist, ankle or neck to its ring bolt. She could scratch her nose or do push ups if she wished, but never, never escape. These links of chain told her too well of being the property of Karl Kypers. She was his utterly! Unhappily she seated herself upon the bench which would also be her bed and considered her misadventure from its beginning.
Her capture had been outrageously simple. The parking lot of her father's building and the question about directions in a strange city from a most polite man who, when she approached, thrust a wad of cloth soaked in some strong smelling stuff over her mouth and nose.
A few seconds and darkness descended.
When she recovered her hands were bound behind her back, her elbows tightly corded together and her ankles ruthlessly roped. She was, moreover, gagged, her mouth filled with wet cloth, her lips covered by soft leather, buckled at the back of her neck. She had flopped around uselessly until she fell to the floor and then had to remain in extreme discomfort until her journey's end. The end had been the SS Kypers' Queen. Even on the wharf there had been no raised eyebrow when she was covered by a rug and carried up the gang plank. Her abduction had been so easy she bitterly wondered how any girl remained free. Apparently every female possessed a treasure between her legs which justified her kidnap even when no money was involved. Every girl, unless downright homely, was a treasure for the Male.
There had been several hours while the ship got underway and steamed south. Amaril had struggled and tried give voice to her protest but to no avail. When the ship finished the relatively brief journey from San Pedro to the shark-infested waters of Triburon, an island in the Sea of Cortez, her gag had been removed, with it also went her clothes until she was naked. It was the beginning of a series of blushes which seemed to have no end. Kypers had exhibited her nudity to the entire crew on the basis that it was best to get their curiosity appeased. No breasts or buttocks had been more intently scrutinized than Miss Amaril Summers as she stood and tethered on bound feet and hands.
Her mouth was her only freedom. She had used it vainly. Kypers and his crew had listened with amused grins to her threats and promises until the bound girl realized she had nothing to offer except herself. She could not even bargain with the pleasures of her sex, Kypers already possessed her body and could do with it as he pleased. Miss Amaril Summers, daughter of Preston Summers of Carlton Industries and the Summers string of banks, came to know herself lacking hope or authority as it was possible to be. It was then they prepared her for the sharks.
Amaril was thankful she had no tendency to claustrophobia. To reassure herself, she once more made her noise pilgrimage back and forth between the limitations of the brig's confinement. There was little satisfaction in the exercise, it bespoke only impotence to remind her of the potency of Males beyond the bolted steel door. Since she had no useful information to offer, she saw herself only as a female body to be used at Kypers' whim. Perhaps she could prevail upon him, after he had used her to his pleasure, to improve her condition and allow her the freedom of the deck. She hoped this chaining in the brig was no more than a softening up to prepare her to accept male use without complaint. No doubt it was irritating to The Male to find the victim of his lust argumentative and uncooperative before, during and after the act. The captive girl sensed that the greatest pleasure for the male was not the penetrations of her loins but the mental submission by which she acknowledged his mastery. It was a pretty thought she wished was academic instead of cruelly real.
Her thoughts drifted to Megan and her father. They would find her car in the parking lot but that meant little. Their knowledge of her kidnapping would come only by Kypers' communication. To get her back meant her father would have to scuttle the Triangle deal and make a gift of it to Kypers as a form of ransom for his daughter. Amaril had no doubt he would do this but mourned the loss and hurt it would entail, cursing her own care-free thoughtlessness by which she had made herself so vulnerable. Even had Kypers kidnapped the right girl, she felt certain her sister Megan would reveal nothing by which he might profit. Megan would have endured the sharks and the still vague promise of the whip far better than she. Megan was strong.
The chained girl turned her thoughts to Kypers' promise of the whip. It sounded impossible, uncivilized and barbaric, but his use of her as shark bait dissolved every sense of value. Amaril would well envision herself nakedly tressed to a convenient bit of rigging or post and the crew summoned for this special occasion, this treat, standing around while one of their number beat her defenseless flesh with any one of the instruments she had read about or perhaps simply with a "rope's end". Even the rope's end was a thing only of fiction to her, but it actually existed and would no doubt hurt. This threat of being whipped brought Miss Amaril Summers face to face with the possibility of pain and shame beyond her concept, quite beyond her rich and well-ordered world. She wondered if there would be blood.
Kypers ignored her. No doubt this was part of her conditioning. This was puzzling, he could take her at will so why bother to condition? The methods of conditioning were hardly conducive to generating affection. With female wisdom she knew all too well the need of the Male to be loved. Men were, under the surface, weaklings to be conquered by feminine seduction, but when she saw herself in the role of seductress she found small hope. It was a role she had never played and was uncertain of her ability to play it now. She saw Kypers as a giant impervious to persuasion. Kypers owned her, owned her totally to a degree which left her without a single weapon.
A pattern formed. Each day Amaril spent in the intolerable boredom of being chained within a confined space. Those who cared for her were constantly changed, presumably to avoid undue familiarity or the forming of a dangerous bond of friendship. Each evening male hands divested her of irons but turned her about to bind her crossed wrists tight behind her back. There seemed no reason for this other than that Kypers evidently enjoyed using her while she suffered the discomfort of laying upon bound arms. The captive girl was given no chance to argue nor escape. With her wrists bound behind her back, she was thrust nightly into the bedroom where Karl Kypers might, or might not, be waiting. Often she was forced to wait for him. In these shameful periods while waiting to be used, Amaril tried, without hope, to free her hands. It hurt to twist and tug but was something to take her mind off the purpose of her naked presence in that bedroom. Kypers knew her mental state when her eyes sought his in mute appeal when he choice to vent his lust upon captive charms. He was always cheerful.
"Why do you have my hands bound like this?" It was an oft repeated question.
"Because it pleases me, a girl looks best with her arms as yours are now. If you thing you are hard done by, how would it be I have the boys use thin twine on you? Or maybe wire? Those pretty wrists of your would then really see some pain." He laughed. "Things can always get worse, honey. Don't kid yourself about that."
"But you know I won't struggle. I'll obey you. You've done this thing to me so many times now it doesn't matter any more. Haven't you been in contact with my father yet?"
Kypers tossed her on the bed and began taking his savage delight, a brutal coupling Amaril could not resist and which reduced her always to a mindless bundle of female responses of which she was always wickedly ashamed when it was done. He rarely bothered to answer questions, but on the first night made a irritated response. "So, okay, I've had you checked out and what you said is true, I should have got you sister instead of you. Since you've got no information of value. I'll take it out of your hide. And I'll make quite sure he knows what's happening to his little girl. He'll come across with Triangle sooner or later. In the meantime be my guest."
Amaril knew herself a prisoner beyond price. After her nightly sleep of total exhaustion, she was returned to the brig and the almost loving caress of metal bands and noisy links she would wear until it again came time for her evening sacrifice to Kypers' lust. The pattern held until the sixth night when, thrust as usual through the waiting door, she discovered not an empty room nor Karl Kypers, but the amused regard of a girl as naked as herself.
CHAPTER TWO - CORDED WRISTS
Donna Martine had been an extra on a movie set when she caught Karl Kypers' eye and sparked desire within the Kypers' loins. He had checked her out to discover there would be few eyebrows raised if she disappeared and then arranged for her to be picked up in the same manner as he had used to acquire Amaril. His virility had quickly broken her to his will, her subjection being cemented by a couple of cruel and very public applications of a whip upon her sun-tanned skin. He had described the results to her as a "study in scarlet and gold." Donna had quickly adjusted to her master's disciplines and since being carelessly informed of a trust fund growing daily with her captivity, had come to accept her role as the only female aboard the "Kypers Queen" with increasing satisfaction and a secret wish to never be freed.
The two girls stared, one in astonishment, the other in an amused appraisal of a captive rival for her master's attention. It was Donna who spoke, "You're the Summers girl. Who gave you such a damn fool name as 'Amaril'? Call me Donna. And since you'll have to be wondering, I'm a prisoner the same as you. Except I've sort of come to like it. I'm not sure I'd escape if I could, but I'll bet you would?"
"Sure I would! Can you... Would you help? My father would be immensely grateful and so would I... Please?" "Hold it, Honey, we'll get around to that in a minute. Let me explain these things you're looking at." Donna held up a slender wrist tightly circled with a band of steel as was her other wrist, her ankles, and her neck. "These things are fastened on me but good. They're there to stay. Karl tells me they're to tell me where I'm at, and I expect he's right. They allow him to attach me to various fixtures around this ship so he can lock me to fifty different places where I have to stand or sit until he chooses to use his key. I've got used to that, too, it's not so bad. Do you know what Karl wants us to do?"
"No."
"He wants us to do a sixty-nine trick while he watches. I've never done it and I don't suppose you have, either?"
"I haven't, and I won't!"
"I don't want to do it either but I've washed my pretty pussy already for you and I'm not going to allow you to get me whipped because of distaste over something you haven't tried. We'll both get whipped if we don't put on a good show. But apart from that I'm also offering a bribe. Play along with me tonight and I'll help you escape. I know a way to get you off this ship."
Amaril twisted unhappily at tied wrists, this was all too much, too soon. But there was a calm assurance about the girl to inspire confidence. The unmentionable had now become something to examine in the heat of hope.
"Untie my hands," she demanded absent-mindedly. "Let's talk."
"Don't be silly, you know I can't do that. Look, you do know what the sixty-nine trick means, don't you? Will you play?"
"Yes, I know what it means. It's something I said I'd never do. But...." Amaril knew herself blushing fiercely. Her twisting of bound arms intensified in embarrassment. She realized that to scorn an act this other girl was prepared to perform might lose her a friend. And the magic word "escape" was still ringing in her ears. "I expect I'm being silly," she said. "Don't be mad at me. I think you're a nice girl. If you really mean what you said about helping me escape, I'll play along. The two of us can give Kypers the best show ever. I might not be able to do it with someone else but I think I can with you, you're nice."
"Don't think I don't have butterflies, too. But there's no way I'll get myself whipped again if I can help it. Don't worry about your escape, I think I can make it happen within two or three days."
"Without getting into trouble?"
"That's a toss up. Karl just has to know you had help. I'll be the prime suspect. And if that earns me a whipping - well, I'll just have to put up with it." Donna offered an apologetic shrug and wry grin. "It's a price I'll willingly pay to get you off this ship. Don't hold it against me, darling, but Karl has been all mine this far and I don't want that to chance. You're a damned beautiful girl, you're tough competition."
"You're welcome to him, Donna. All I want is freedom." Amaril resumed her embarrassed twisting against tied hands. "While we're alone together could we... I mean... Would you mind if we sort of... well, tried it out? Did a dummy run? I think I'm going to be an absolute idiot."
"You want to be the undertaker or on top?"
"Well, with my hands the way they are...!"
It was suddenly fun. To lay upon bound arms for the convenience of Donna Martine was very different from doing the same thing for Karl Kypers. In spite of professions of amateur status, Donna's hands were busy arranging the nakedness of the girl she was about to feed upon. At Amaril's own suggestion, she brought a face cloth from the bathroom and laved the female place soon to know the touch of exploring lips and tongue. Amaril was too embarrassed and chagrined to make more suggestions or to do more than make her fastened arms as comfortable. There was a slithering of female skin, gasps and little exclamations of amusement and apology, and then it actually happened - thrust down hard upon Amaril's lips was the private place of this girl while her lips came down upon Amaril's sex. There came a succession of gasps and giggles before the wet frictioning of feminine tongues began to work wonders upon feminine nerves and both girls began to tense with excitement and pleasure. It was at exactly that moment that Karl Kypers entered the room, seeking only to find the pleasures of female flesh with his bound-up Amaril, unknowing that Donna was also present.
But the busy females scarcely noticed his arrival. A rapport had joined the two girls as one and they now fiercely and avidly pursued the very thing they had deplored. Kypers sat down and, as he explained later, allowed nature to take its course. The course was protracted and much marked by feminine cries and the heaving of two beautiful naked bodies. It went on and on as both girls sought to maintain or recapture the unsuspected ecstasy of union. If thoughts occupied the feminine minds at those moments it was only to wonder why women ever bothered with men.
The master of the "Kypers' Queen" was heatedly content with his possession of the wiggling nudities upon the bed. It may have been an era, or perhaps two, before he jovially put an end to an experience neither girl wished to terminate. His voice was pure raillery, "Champagne, my pretty ones, you've earned. I didn't thing either of you had the nerve. Damn it, I'm going to keep you apart from now on. Come on, drink up, you've given me the damndest erection."
Reluctantly the two girls found their feet. Donna accepted the two glasses and held one up to Amaril's lips. Both drank deeply. Both realized there was more to come.
"You've had your fun, sweethearts, now it's my turn. Let's see if I can't do better than either of you. But first, some more champagne." This time Kypers held the glass to Amaril's lips himself, their eyes in silent communion as she drank deep and wondered what was next. She say herself certainly as a sex object, a plaything for pleasure, her role only to respond. The champagne would held. She asked for more.
The three of them talked happily, mostly about the act, or acts, just performed. "We're going to find out if I'm not better than both of you put together," Kypers boasted. "Don't be polite for fear of getting your ass whipped. How do you feel now about a good piece of tail?" Silence was his answer. Both girls wanted only sleep.
"Figured as much," he replied without hostility. "What you both need is a bit of livening up, a touch of regeneration." He went to a draw and returned with a length of whippy yellow cane with which he sliced the air suggestively to make his victims cringe. "Just the thing for the tired libido. Puts life into a girl's ass better than anything I know. What do you say, Donna?"
"Oh, Karl, we're both willing, we don't need to be punished. We don't deserve to be punished, we're trying so hard to please."
"You've mostly pleased yourself so far. Now you'll please me. Which of you wants me first?"
They remained silent while their master divested himself of clothes. He was wickedly rampant which caused Amaril to feel fresh heat within her loins, a heat of which she was bitterly ashamed but it was there. "Okay, I'll be first," Donna volunteered as if resigned to the inevitable. "But I don't need to be caned, goodness knows, I'm wet enough already! Please, Karl, please...!"
"You know the drill, Donna. Set a good example for your girlfriend. I'm thinking in terms of only five but that can easily be raised to ten if you want to argue."
Donna did not argue. She bend over and touched her toes to demonstrate to a breathless Amaril the required pose of stiff knees and out thrust posterior. She stared at the floor beneath her bowed head, accepting her punishment with only the slightest of sighs.
In spite of misgivings, Amaril was fascinated by the lovely symmetry of Donna's creation of beauty in submission. The twin cheeks of the taut young bottom thrust up and out in pure innocence. But, for very sure, Donna had struck this pose before and suffered the coming pain perhaps many times. There was a shared familiarity about Kypers' sly nudge at Amaril's ribs.
"That's a bottom in a million," he observed thoughtfully. "The first time I saw her I knew it would be. And what's more, she's got the ability to blush. If you've never seen a girl's rump change colors you just watch now." Kypers pushed the watching girl aside as he took up position to swing the cane through the air with a slicing sound to plant it firmly across the waiting rounds. "See what I mean!" he added with obvious satisfaction.
It was true. Donna's seat responded not only with the weal of impact but slowly became blushing pink. Whether this resulted from pain or shame no one could tell, but the effect was to arouse between Amaril's legs the same heat as came from the sight of Kypers' rigid rod. Donna had done no more than wince. She held the pose as the yellow cane impacted viciously again in the softer flesh below the deepening scarlet of the first stroke.
"You'll notice how that plump little mound with its pretty little slit sticks out behind," Kypers' observed helpfully. "It varies quite a bit from girl to girl. We'll see about you in a minute. When I'm giving her only five I make sure it gets only one. It's a pretty little thing and I want to make sure it doesn't get too swollen. Watch the reaction this time."
If Amaril had possessed her hands she would have used them instinctively to the girl who now squealed in shock at the pain and who's knees buckled as though to let her fall. But Donna was a Trojan. After the first evidence of unbearable anguish, she stiffened back to rigid attention and made no further sound beyond the quick gasping breaths. Her sex glowed darkly as the centerpiece of a scarlet line flaming in jubilation across her flesh.
"Got it just right," Kypers observed. "Notice how it swells a bit and does a bit of blushing itself. It's a quite little doosie. I'm damned proud of it! Donna is, too, but she ain't gonna say so right now." The punished girl no longer remained immobile beneath the cutting cane. Donna's hips weaved briefly after each blow and her bowed head jerked in dismay at each fresh pain. But she absorbed the final two and held her shameful pose until Kypers gave permission to stand erect. Kypers nudged the girl with bound hands with the same familiarity as before. "This bit's real cute," he informed with a chuckle. "Watch her rub her poor little ass to see what the damage is and let it know she still loves it even if it does hurt. Go ahead, sweetheart, ain't no way we're going to miss the best part of the show."
Amaril was quick to catch Donna's involuntary desire to put her hands anywhere except where they must invoke fresh shame. But discipline was strong. Blushing furiously, the caned girl allowed her hands to do exactly what Kypers most desired, turning her back on the two who watched but allowing the eloquence of soothing fingers to tell their own story. Once more Amaril became shockingly aware of erotic heat.
"Okay, sweetheart, on the bed. I'll take over from now on," Kypers boomed affectionately. "Wasn't I right when I said I would put fresh life in that little pussy of yours! I'm expecting action!"
Donna obeyed quickly. Amaril supposed she wished to hide her punished portion from the world. Kypers positioned the meek legs and bent knees to an exact nicety before impaling the swollen sex. Donna greeted the male entry with a moan which could have meant anything. Donna's arms were at first out flung but slowly rose to the shoulders of the man who had conquered her. It was a total victory for the male.
Amaril had heard plenty of stories about those who watched, even those who paid to watch. She had even once been invited to watch another couple but had recoiled at the idea. This time she could not have dragged her gaze away even had she wanted to. She was seeing herself where Donna now lay and her breathing was fast and heavy as her breasts rose and fell while her wrists twisted helplessly within Kypers' cords. While the male and female Act was in progress she completely forgot the cane.
A realization that she was still due a caning came back when, after an amazing demonstration of vigor and endurance, Karl Kypers bounced out one side of the bed while Donna slithered sheepishly out the other. If the waiting girl found relief in the limp male member glistening with Donna's fluids, the relief was short lived. Kypers was in full command.
"You turn now, dear Miss Summers," he announced with formal politeness. "If you're thinking I can't get it up, I'll let you in on a little secret. What the cane is going to do for you, it works twice as well for me. A good cane is the finest aphrodisiac in the world. Get into position, you know the drill."
"But my hands are tied!"
"So what! You don't need hands, they stay tied, sweetheart. Don't bitch."
"It would please you a lot better if you would let me touch my toes. I'm sure I'll look silly with my hands behind my back."
"You'll do just fine, honey, no use getting ourselves in a rut when it comes to whipping a girl's ass. Over you go."
It was, of course, hopeless. The Male, who was once more flexing the yellow wickedness back and forth between strong hands, would enjoy protest. Why add to his pleasure! With a pathetic shrug, the girl about to provide a painful stimulus to virility, stood where Donna had been and bend over, blushing outrageously. As her head lowered her hair tumbled towards the floor. Amaril was painfully conscious of bound hands.
"That's nice," Kypers approved. "But you need to arch your back and stick you ass out and back. Try and raise it so you get your skin stretched tight."
Amaril did as she was told, almost forgetting pain to come in the awkward shame of posturing her nakedness for the gloating male eyes. "I'll be damned," Kypers' voice boomed approval. "You've got as pretty a do-thingie as Donna's! See if you can get it exposed backward a bit more, it's surprising the control some girls have."
Speechless, Amaril did her best with an exercise never previously attempted. She had never backed up to a glass and bent forward to examine an exposure she had never dreamed of. Feeling only shame she did her best to please.
"Ata girl!" Kypers fingered the plump mound before grasping it in a male palm and striving to aid nature by kicking apart his captives feet and pulling back on a handful of maiden sex. At that moment Amaril's only wish was that Donna should not be there to witness her shame. And there was more punishment still to come. When Kypers freed his damp handful, the spot he prized so highly felt suddenly cold.
Amaril knew it was about to happen. Something new was being introduced to the daughter of Preston Summers, something she hoped her father would never know. Suddenly she was shivering, finding the pose unbearably difficult to hold, the round, taut flesh screamed silently. When the cane cut hard she screamed in the actuality of fervent disbelief that pain could be so intense. Her knees buckled and she fell forward to the rug, hands fighting furiously to give aid and comfort to her punished bottom. But the cords mocked as Karl Kypers observed without rancor, "That was a poor show, sweetheart. Your papa wouldn't be proud of his little girl if he were watching."
Amaril's mind was a turmoil of the urgent need to impart a discovery she felt certain was hers alone. "I'm sorry. I simply can't stand it. It's too awful for words. I never dreamed...." Her anguished eyes sought his as she stood erect while her bound hands sought vainly to assuage her wound. "Please, not again! I positively can't endure it!"
"So, you're telling me you don't want any more?" Kypers' tone was conversational, his smile amused.
"Yes. I'm terribly sorry."
"If Donna can take it, so can you."
"I'm sorry, I simply can't explain. All I know is I cannot possibly stand still to endure such agony."
"Got any better ideas?"
"Only that I'll do anything else you wish. Please forgive me."
"You've got a nerve, girlie! That rule I told Donna about applies to you just the same. You can take five without a fuss or you can get ten for arguing. Think about that."
Amaril's mind cleared as agony receded. Her bottom was on fire but Kypers' threat could not be ignored. Ten strokes made five seem almost humane. The hurt girl's mind fell into the rationale of reason. The eyes of Karl Kypers were upon her in firm intent, against their relentless promise she could only whisper, "Please, oh please, not so hard?"
"Get yourself back into position. You're still only getting five, don't push your luck."
Miss Amaril Summers got back into position.
The cut of the cane was every bit as hard. The bent over girl had no idea how she managed to remain motionless and silent but she did. Her concern no centered on stroke three which would bit her sex. But when it came the impossible was suddenly possible. The whipped girl dived deep into the well of agony, as if inviting it would hurt the less. Conscious of sounds of approval, she endured the remaining two. When her master ordered her to stand erect she did so in pure disbelief - it was over! Like a child seeking the comfort of its mother's arms, she dived for the bed and in the positioning of bound arms and scolded skin discovered warmth from the girl who she had matched in punishments. When Karl Kypers entered Miss Amaril Summers, she had no other feeling than relief. Soon she was in the mindless land of ecstasy.
There was more champagne, a toast to Kypers' regenerated virility and another to Amaril's introduction to the cane. She still was not granted the freedom of her hands but drank avidly from any glass offered by the man and girl. She actually managed to smile at the thought of the ordeal being over, and at the flaming bottom that somehow still generated sexual heat along with the glow of abused skin. It was a time of discovery.
"How would it be I make you her jailer this evening, Donna?" The Master inquired casually. "You've had lots of experience, you wore them irons plenty yourself, as I recall?"
"I'd be glad to. It's a nice way to end our day." Donna carefully screened any emotion from her voice.
"No tricks now. No locks half closed, I'll be making a check myself later on."
"Oh, Karl, don't you trust me!"
"A man can't ever trust a woman. You were feeling sorry for Amaril while I was caning her ass. Don't get to feeling too damned sorry or I'll give you something to feel sorry about."
"Okay, Karl, I'll iron the poor girl tight."
Kypers eyed his female possessions with pride. He had never been in love with a girl but was close to it with regard to Donna. He was surprised at the depth of his feeling for Amaril. There was a sweetness about her he rarely met in his conquests. Reviewing the last couple of hours his sex burned demandingly. These were girls he could lay with all night and in the morning still be horny. Kypers knew himself a lucky man but discounted the discovery by giving himself full credit for judgment in selection. He also gave full credit to the cane.
"I want you two girls to turn your backs to me and bend down. I want another look. I don't think either of you have the least idea...." He allowed his tribute to hang silent in the air as his captive maidens meekly obeyed. "Not much to chose between your two pretty rumps," he mused thoughtfully. "We'll do this again sometime, maybe promote you to ten and see which of you comes out on top."
Amaril was aware of excitement, an ordeal had passed, a promise lay ahead. Moreover, to be ironed by Donna Martine carried far less menace than male hands locking the steel bands upon wrists and ankles. Passively she allowed Donna's gentle grip upon a bare arm to lead her from the room. Kypers was dressing and had lost interest in either of them.
"I've spent a few days and nights in the brig myself," Donna said cheerfully as she unlocked the door to the dread prison. "You won't have counted the links of your chains any more than I, it's about the only thing a girl has left to do."
"Don't worry about untying my hands," Amaril reassured, "I'll be a good girl and stand still to be chained. You've no idea what a relief you are after the manhandling I've had to put up with." Donna busied herself with the all too familiar metal. As her wrists and ankles and neck were gripped in iron, Amaril asked breathlessly, "You said you'd help me escape, but how can you? We're both prisoners on this ship."
"I'm supposing you can swim?"
"Yes, but after the shark torture there's no way I'm jumping overboard."
"If you want to escape, you'll do it. There'll come a night when the Kypers' Queen passes real close to an island, your swim would be short and there's no sharks in that area."
"Well, okay, but I don't see...?"
"A lot depends on me knowing our course. If it works as I think it will, I'll bring you here to be ironed but I won't put a chain on you. I'll open that big porthole and you can squeeze through. There'll be lights on short so you'll know I'm not giving you a bum steer. Do you have the courage?"
Amaril shivered, thinking of nakedness and dark water and a foreign land. The prospect was frightening but a chained hand exploring her wounded bottom said plainly it was a risk she had to take. She should be grateful instead of quibbling. Donna would almost certainly be blamed and be punished. As best she could within the limits of her chain, Amaril hugged her companion in thankfulness. But her voice was still troubled.
"You'll be punished, won't you? How bad will it be?"
"Karl will probably have me strung up above the deck some place and whipped with one of those beastly whips he keeps some place. Look, dear, don't worry about it, I'll be whipped in a good cause. Consider it my parting gift."
"Come with me, we can escape together."
"No! Karl and I have got something going, I don't know what you call it but it works. I'm better off as his prisoner, or his mistress, or his slave, or whatever you want to call it, than I ever was when I was free. I'm being selfish in helping you get away, you're dangerous competition."
"He won't sell you the way I've heard of girls being sold - to a brothel or a millionaire or a slave dealer?"
"No way! In his way he's fond of me. What I have to do now is stop him from getting fond of you. Do I make sense?"
It was a strange mixture of motives. Amaril did the best she could but knew it would take every ounce of courage she had to slip through the portal hole when the fatal hour came. She was troubled about Donna's sacrifice but could see its logic in this turmoil of emotions of which she was the center. When Donna had kissed her and locked her in, she arrange her irons and quietly considered Karl Kypers.
It might be true Kypers was resigned to having kidnapped the wrong sister, it seemed foreign to what she knew of him. But the sexual orgy in which all three of them had just indulged did, indeed, indicate his determination to get his value out of her as a sexual object, to be used in ways to cause her shame and pain. Nothing in her previous life had conditioned Amaril to the sensation she now felt as she sat upon her wounded flesh and played with the lengths of her chains. She should have been frightened and hysterical, but was neither of these things. Memory of what Kypers had done with her and to her kept alive the flame engendered, in her sex. She assured herself she should feel no shame in this introduction of the potential of her nakedness, seeing now her nakedness as only a natural state in her new condition. She had unquestioningly become a slave and slaves wore clothes only by the permission of their Masters. Her father and the wealth he controlled seemed infinitely remote.
It was undoubted a new era. Male members of the crew vanished from Amaril's captivity, their place taken by girl who's beauty matched her own, the girl Kypers appeared to trust. Donna fed her and checked her chains just as Kypers had done the night before. Without Donna's miracle there was no way Miss Amaril Summers would ever get free.
"He won't be the least suspicious, he had no reason to," Donna assured earnestly to allay Amaril's anxiety. "Goodness knows why he's letting me look after you but in a way it's the decent thing to do. And while you won't believe it, there is a streak of decency in Karl Kypers. What he made the two of us do together, and then making our seats inflamed and hurting, doesn't seem the least bit out of the way to him, to Karl that's what men do to women, it's what girls are for. He'll be shocked out of his mind if I got pregnant, it's a female function he would never even consider. Every night he makes me take the pill and watches while I swallow it." Donna came up with a doubtful grin. "He doesn't give you the pill, so I've wondered if he intends to send a pregnant daughter back to Preston Summers. It is the sort of thing he would get a big charge out of. Let's hope he doesn't screw you too many times before I get you off this ship."
The hope was vain. Each day Donna freed her fellow captive from the weight of irons which seemed a part of imprisonment in the brig. On each occasion she bound Amaril's crossed wrists hard and tight behind her back, a binding Karl Kypers later examined and approved of. Before using the two girl in a multitude of ways to leave Miss Amaril Summers gasping but not always as shocked as she felt she should have been. In the course of these explorations with her nakedness, Amaril was again and again the recipient of Karl Kypers' sperm within her pussy to produce an army of fledgling Kypers. But, by the time Donna's plan came to fulfillment, she was not aware of pregnancy. Perhaps there was something in the food!
Their master was not what Donna described as "whip happy." Amaril came to realize his caning of Donna's bottom and her own was more in a spirit of good will than a wish to punish. It was a vivid discovery for the daughter of Preston Summers that the implantation of vivid weals on her flesh was an aphrodisiac, not only for he who owned her but for herself as well. She came from each fresh caning in a dither of flaming lust, of which Kypers was all too lewdly aware. To catch his eye on such occasion was to invite a blush all the way down to her bare breasts. Each day, when she was not left locked in irons, was a day of fresh discovery. She came to understand Donna's attachment to this strange and powerful male, and to increasingly wonder if she truly wanted to leave his ship in the manner Donna planned. Donna's heavy waves of platinum hair was a perfect accompaniment to her own dark tresses. It was as if nature had designed them to be together in this strangest of captivities.
After being ironed and cared for my Donna for a couple of days it came as a surprise when Karl Kypers opened the brig door and stood surveying his chained and naked prisoner. He stepped inside, closed the door and stood with his back against it with the easy pose of possession. His questions was outrageous, "Happy, Amaril?"
The prisoner wanted to scream but wealed skin prompted caution. Amaril motioned with chained hands and kicked a chained foot as she retorted, "Happy! When you keep me like this! You have to be joking."
"No, dead serious. What I said was more a statement of fact than a question. I know you're happy."
Amaril found herself on dangerous ground - Kypers was closer to the truth than she cared to admit. Her day in irons was a bore, but at the end of it was the most vivid experience a girl could ever know. She shifted uneasily beneath his intense regard.
"Why do you always have my hands tied behind my back when I'm taken to your bedroom?" she asked. "Is that your idea of making me happy?"
"You know damned well why I have your hands tied behind your back, sweetheart. I like to see you that way. It's damn cute watching you long to cover your breasts or scratch your nose when you can't do either. Don't think there haven't been times when Donna's hands were tied that way, too."
Amaril sniffed disdainfully but allowed the matter of bound wrists to drop, but returned to her most urgent need. "What about my father? Does he know?"
"He knows enough to make him squirm, but not where you are.
I'm not so sure I still wish to bargain with him over you, you're habit forming. You and Donna make a perfect pair. How'd you like to stay my prisoner the same as she? I'd dispense with the irons though I'd always do something with your hands, you're a natural for bound hands."
"I don't see that what I want matters, you've got me, you'll do what you like with me and that's the end of it."
"Donna's happy, I'd want you the same."
"We'd be jealous, always fighting over you. You know the way females are."
"I can cure that with the cane."
"You'd cane us anyway, you like doing it the same way you enjoy my tied wrists."
Kypers remained unconcerned. He might have been discussing the weather. "Thought I'd pass the idea before you and get your reaction."
"When you tire of me, please send me home. That's it!"
Kypers chuckled, "Still your father's daughter, heh! Tenderizing your seat hasn't been enough. Sometime in the next week, sometime when you're not thinking about it. I'll have you whipped in the good, old-fashioned navy style, tressed up to the rigging and the crew there to hear you scream. Did wonders for Donna, it will do the same for you, cut away some of your bitchiness."
"I'm not a bitch! Please don't have that done to me, I'm doing the best I can to behave the way you want." Amaril got no answer and was suddenly alone. The door closed with a clang and all she saw was his back. He had cleverly left her at the peek of indecision and dismay over his promise of a formal flogging. Even though she had used his Christian name for the first time, she sensed the interview had taken her deeper into slavery. Even had she agreed to his suggestions, her condition would change little. She might get rid of her irons to join Donna in perfumed idleness awaiting The Male's pleasure, her wrists, ankles and neck circled anew in steel, picturing herself attached somewhere on deck for the crew to leer at as they passed. It would be better than the brig but that was all she could say for it. Amaril realized her decision to accept Donna's plan of escape with the terrible hazards it imposed arouse not only from longing for escape but a fear of the emotional involvement with Kypers by which she would become a slave without chains.
That evening, when her irons had fallen to the floor and Donna was binding her wrists behind her back, Amaril spoke of Kypers' visit and his promise of the whip. If they could be alone long enough it would be nice to have a girl to girl discussion of the man who held them prisoner. Donna treated the awful disclosures lightheartedly. "Don't worry, Amaril, my pet. I plan to have you off this ship before your time comes to be tressed up to the riggings for a formal whipping. Forget it. If things break the way I plan, it will be me who gets the formal whipping and does the screaming - you'll be far away on dry land. Forget the whole thing and let's go and see what his lordship has in store for us tonight."
Their master was in a mellow mood. The cane was neither used nor mentioned. Perhaps it was Amaril's previous mention of bound hands that prompted his order for her to stand straight and erect while Donna tongued and teased the nipples Amaril could not touch. Once again Kypers played observer only as the breathing of the girl who's hands were tied became more and more labored until, greatly daring, she broke pose to throw herself upon the bed in the most inviting surrender a girl could contrive. Her voice was husky as it pleaded, "Please, please! Do it to me, do it to me...!"
Amaril went unpunished, her female anguish appeased by a delighted Male. Miss Amaril Summers had progressed far down a hitherto unknown road. Everyone was pleased with her including Amaril herself. When the hour became late and their play was done, Kypers' mellow mood persisted to the point to taking his newly acquired slavegirl into unfamiliar territory. He grinned at Donna. "Untie her hands," was his unexpected order.
Once more Amaril was breathless, this was something new. Her heart leaped when Kypers ordered, "Don't iron her tonight, Donna, she's being prompted. Lock her in the brig but that's all. I want her to do some thinking."
As cords were peeled from crossed wrists and hands were freed, a shinning eyed girl flung her arms around Kypers' neck in an ecstasy of gratitude. He patted her gently in paternal affection before dampening her ardor. "Don't get too carried away, honeybunch," he suggested casually, "but remember what I said about hands. You can rub your wrists a bit but then stick them out."
Amaril winched at the sight of the black handcuffs. She had never seen such things before and certainly never had them locked upon her wrists. Their slender circles were a mere trifle compared to the ship's irons. She extended her hands willingly enough and watched fascinated as each metal restraint was tightened click by click until snug. When she held joined hands up for inspection, everyone laughed delightedly. "You'll scarcely know you've got them on but they'll remind you of me," Kypers assured. "Now, run along. You two girls plumb wear me out."
The warm Pacific night enveloped the two girls lovingly on their way to the brig. Amaril, alight with pleasure, Donna strangely silent until blurting out, "I don't have the key to those damn things. Why in hell did he have to think of them tonight of all nights! Damn!"
"It doesn't matter, darling, you wouldn't dare take them off anyway. And Karl's right, they scarcely bother me."
As she unlocked the wicked metal door, Donna said bitterly, "I suppose I should have told you but I didn't want you to mess up the evening by being apprehensive and alarmed. But, tonight's the night. We're passing the point of land where you were to do your swim. Damn and double damn!"
For a few moments Amaril shared dismay but then remembered the rigid training of her childhood. "It doesn't matter, darling," she reassured. "I haven't had these things locked on me before, but as a kid part of your teaching was to have our hands tied so we could master every stroke in the book. It didn't bother me than, it won't now."
"Are you sure?" Donna's concern was real. She had come to love Amaril more than she realized and the water below the porthole was dark and deep and filled with menace.
"Yes, I'm sure." Amaril spoke with more courage than she really felt. "So far as the swim goes, it won't stop me. I'll be confined to a single stroke but I can float on my back for a rest from time to time. " Donna retrieved a twisted shape of metal from a hook by the door. The screw on the porthole yielded instantly to the demands of youthful arms. When the port was wide and the sea air flooded in, the two girls were suddenly shy, suddenly aware of the dangerous thing Amaril was about to do. Donna had said there were no sharks, but who could be sure of this in the wide Pacific?
"I think you'd better go," she said brokenly. "I'm getting all choked up. I hadn't expected to feel this way."
Fiercely they embraced, knowing they meant more to each other than either had supposed. Determined not to think or give herself a chance to change her mind, Amaril turned swiftly to the waiting port, going through it feet first then to clutch its rim with chained hands. She dared not look down for fear the dark, deep water would make her change her mind. There was a final, whispered farewell before Amaril released her grip to fall. Water possessed her.
Neither girl had thought of Donna and the whip.
CHAPTER THREE - NO ESCAPE
The chained and naked girl, alone in the wasteland of the waves, thrust as hard as she could away from the passing ship and swam as quickly as she could to evade the chum of the ship's propellers. Amaril then tread water and the dark shape passed and knew one of the loneliest moments of her life as the ship which had been her prison moved on into the night. She refused to think of sharks.
She must reach land before she tired or some unthought of shark found a midnight snack. Amaril took heart in having seen lights off in the distance. It was as Donna promised, land and people. She had only just been introduced to handcuffs, they were a strange restriction to bare young arms but she was grateful to former training and struck out bravely for the shore. She knew the deceptiveness of distance at night and knew there could be miles between her nudity and safety. On the upward surge of the swells could catch sight of the reassuring lights. At other times she could see the stars and guide herself by them. Her mind was still alive with the events of the evening. She used them to drive the thoughts of sharks and sharp teeth away. She had escaped! She would not be whipped! Her father's name anywhere in the world would insure a speedy return to normalcy. She fought the water as she had never fought before.
Amaril well knew that in her choice of escape she risked hazards unthinkable. She was bare but the water and air were warm and the handcuffs chaffed no than the irons had in the brig. She used the breast stroke and made good progress.
When, after an hour, her feet touch sand, she scream in the mistaken assumption it was a shark beneath her, but her shoulders and her breasts were soon above the waves and she had only to wade through the gentle rollers of a beach to find safety on dry land. She was panting, not so much in exertion but thankfulness in being safe.
But was she safe! Amaril knew herself in Mexico, far, far south of the border. Her movie-conditioned image of that land was of dark men intent on rape. Promise of future cash might have little attraction compared to the free and unconditional use of a naked girl, a girl handcuffed and therefore suspect. Amaril drove that thought also from her mind by keeping herself, the first task being to dry what she could of herself with chained hands and to ring out an shake free her mop of auburn hair, her mind alive and anxious when confronted by the obvious fact that, so far as she was concerned, the sharks were not all out in the ocean. Those on shore might be just as fatal!
Amaril Summers stood upon a long strand of silver beach, the familiar lights now hidden by the growth of trees advancing to the sand. She was close to exhaustion so it was easy to decide to curl up beneath a bush until daylight. She did so and went instantly to sleep.
In the light of morning, Amaril saw the beach, the surf and the rollers as a tourist's joy. But there were no tourists and no Mexicans. Feeling hungry, she crawled from beneath the bush and took stock of her surroundings. Nothing had changed, the trees hid whatever there was to hide. In grim determination, and aware of vulnerability, she chose a direction and stepped lightly forward on friendly sand. Miss Amaril Summers wished she could enjoy escape with a carefree mind but was well aware of hazards still to face, the first of which was the handcuffs on her wrists, they damned her utterly as criminal.
The naked and cuffed girl had been too tired the night before to examine the dark bonds encircling her wrists but took time now to twist and turn and tug, but soon resigned herself to being handcuffed and, as Kypers had laughingly said, "Would remind her of him. " She strode forward angrily.
The house came suddenly into view, from it a wide expanse of grass slopped to the sand. There was a table with a gaily stripped umbrella and someone eating breakfast. Suddenly it all seemed normal and civilized. With fast-beating heart, Amaril walked barefoot through the grass. As she approached the huge house, the occasional scent of cooking reached her. Amaril sniffled avidly, she was hungry.
An ancient woman at the table ate pickily, paying not attention to anything except her plate. But, when Amaril was close enough to touch, she rose her head and spoke.
"Saw you on the beach. Knew you'd come. Sit down and have breakfast." She continued her nibbling as if naked girls wearing handcuffs on their wrists were a daily occurrence unworthy of comment.
Amaril sat. Almost instantly a Mexican boy was at her elbow with a trey filled with food. She helped herself. After the boy had gone, she felt called upon to say, "I've sort of been ship wrecked. You're being very kind."
"You're being very beautiful, glad to have you."
"I hope the way I am doesn't... Well, I'm sorry about not having any clothes." Amaril gulped coffee.
"Wouldn't have you any other way." The ancient voice was by no means cracked or senile . The eyes were wise and shrewd. "Both of us are lucky you found me." There came a surprisingly youthful chuckle. "I've been wanting a girl like you a long time. And, if you had taken a wrong turn down here, you could have ended up in a brothel."
The old eyes were frankly assessing, missing nothing. Blushing, Amaril managed to stammer, "I expect you're wondering... But I can explain these handcuffs. I'm sorry about them, too."
"Don't be, I like 'em. All girls your age ought to be handcuffed. She stared at Amaril but seemed for a second to be seeing someone else. "I was married once," she said. "Taught me a lot."
"I don't suppose you have a key or perhaps some man with tools who can... Well, we might be able to get them off?"
"Stop bothering about them, dear, you don't seem to know when you're well off." The careful picking at the food continued.
Amaril realized she had walked in upon something strange. This ancient lady was rich, she smelt of money as did the house. But Amaril gratefully gave her attention to the food. Even if the old lady was a bit cracked, she could surely help. It was a few minutes before Amaril tried again.
"Do you get many girls like me... I mean minus clothes and wearing handcuffs?" she inquired.
"You're the first, an answer to prayer. I've been wanting a pretty female for a long time. I'll be kind to you... Mostly!"
"My father is Preston Summers."
"How nice for you! My father died when I was young... Left me a lot of money. Are you a good girl or a naughty girl?"
"Oh, you mean these?" Amaril held up cuffed wrists. "I'm not the least bit naughty. It wasn't a policeman who put these on."
"Good! Policemen are a pain in the you-know-what. Anyone likely to be looking for you?"
"Only my father. He's in America."
"Good place to have him!" The old voice obviously approved of distance. "You've just escaped from someone or something, dear. Who was it?"
Amaril blurted out the details of Kypers and the Kypers' Queen. She felt better with a full stomach, but there was something about this woman not quite right. She asked, "If you'd phone or cable my father, he'll arrange for me to go home. I'm sure he'll pay all expenses. If you need money...?"
"Of course I don't need money. I'm probably richer than your father. I'll think of this getting in touch with him but not right now." There was definitely something wrong. It could be senility or something more ominous. Amaril considered herself lucky to discover this old woman, but on the other hand... ? Striving for a natural tone, she asked, "Would you mind if I used your telephone, I'll make it a collect call?"
"No. I want you to remember that's forbidden."
"But how else can I get to go home?"
"You don't. You don't need to go home. I'm sure home's a frightful bore."
Amaril took fresh stock of what had now become a problem. This elderly woman, obviously rich, was a puzzle but the old eyes were kind and the ancient voice had the tone of one who explained things to young children. The handcuffed girl wondered what would happen if she made a sudden dash for the house and the phone. Her answer, as if her thoughts were easily read, was almost instant. A button was pushed on the table and two burly males, obviously servants, took up position, one on each side of Amaril's chair. She was not touched but there was menace.
Angrily she said, "There's no need for this demonstration. Do you want me to understand I am under restraint?"
"Just wanted you to meet my gardeners. They're nice boys and very loyal." The hostess motioned and her loyal servants vanished as silent as their coming had been. "You sure don't suppose I'm going to allow you to go away, do you! you're a gift from the sea, you're mine!" She was Mrs. Elizabeth Hampton, she was very rich, spending her time between the United States in summer and Mexico in winter. She was accustomed to being obeyed. Her age did not matter, she was ageless. To her it was the most natural thing in the world to desire and cherish this gift from the Sea. That was how she saw Amaril and nothing the naked girl could do or say could ever change the innocent assurance of Elizabeth Hampton's mind. When Amaril expressed a wish to walk down to the water after breakfast, her request was treated as the notion of a child. She finally demanded, "Are you trying to tell me I'm a prisoner?"
"Of course I am, child." The old voice was kind as if dealing with a rebellious grandchild. "I'm certainly not going to allow you to wander around and get yourself raped or put into a brothel. You don't seem to have a lick of sense."
"But my father, he's my only hope of getting back home. Please let me phone him."
"No! I don't want to hear anything more about that. From no on you're an orphan and I'm your aunt, an aunt who loves you terribly and keeps you safe. Do you understand?"
"Well, yes, I suppose so. I expect you're being very kind. But don't you see I'm an adult and have to go home. I can't possibly stay naked like this all the time. And there's these handcuffs... Couldn't those two men take them off?"
"Stop dithering, dear, and be sure and call me Aunt Elizabeth. I'm going to be kind to you and we'll have a wonderful life together. Think of yourself as my companion. And if you want money, I'll give you all you need. Don't bother me with a lot of tiresome explanations. I'm getting old and I hate people who natter."
Amaril sighed and looked longingly towards the sea. This was a kettle of fish more complex than Karl Kypers.' It would take some sorting out. But in the meantime Aunt Elizabeth was pure benevolence. Amaril tried again, "Well, if I have to stay handcuffed, how about letting me wear clothes. I'm not naked because I want to be."
"Don't be silly, dear, clothes would be sacrilege on you, a defilement. Don't you realize how beautiful you are?"
"I hadn't thought about it."
"Of course you've thought about it, dear, every girl thinks about it. I remember I thought about it a great deal but that was a long time ago. I'm going love and cherish you but you do understand, I hope, you could be punished if you don't act sensibly. I'm talking about behaving yourself."
"You're taking an awful lot for granted, Mrs. Hampton. If you won't help me contact my father, I'll have to go in search of someone who will. If I get raped along the way, that's my hard luck."
Aunt Elizabeth sighed. "Really you young girls...!"
"I'm not all that young, I'm twenty-six. Please help me."
"You're becoming tiresome, dear girl. Have you forgotten what I've said about punishments?"
"Well, no, I haven't forgotten. But I haven't done anything to be punished for. And, anyway, civilized people don't punish girls who are twenty-six years old."
"I do, dear. You must always remember that. While you belong to me you must always do the things I say, not the things you want. I don't want to hear about your father or about your being raped or about your going away from here. If you persist with this nonsense, I will have you punished. But please don't. You're so sweet, I like you as you are."
It was like clutching at moonbeams or shafts of sunlight. Elizabeth Hampton made her own rules as need arouse. Amaril wondered if she had walked out of one captivity into another. But as yet she had really only found kindness. It would be wise to explore Elizabeth Hampton to the full, and if she had to be a prisoner, this was certainly a most beautiful prison.
Resigned, she asked, with seeming unconcern, "What are you going to do with me?"
Elizabeth Hampton's small bright eyes twinkled over a coffee cup. "Do with you? I'm not going to do anything with you except keep you save and love you. You're such a sweet girl."
"But my father will look after me and I'm probably not nearly as sweet as you think I am. Right now I'm sort of lost and far from home."
"I can easily train you, dear, the same way I did young Phyllis. Don't worry."
"Who is Phyllis?"
"Oh, just a nice young lady who sort of wandered in here one day. I looked after her for a couple of years before the dear creature escaped. I remember I was difficult myself at that age."
The word "escape" caused Amaril to tense and tug at cuffed hands. Perhaps she should be careful of this funny little woman. "What do you mean about escape? Probably she just went home the way I wish I could right now. It's sweet of you to wish to look after me but there's no need, my father's a very rich man."
"So was mine, dear. He built this lovely house and named it after the village where he was born. It's called 'Clifton.' Isn't that a nice name down here in Mexico, so easy to remember."
The handcuffs which had seemed so light and nearly meaningless on the Kypers' Queen now seemed to bit Amaril's wrists more tightly and weight a ton. The naked girl's mind was busy with possibilities. The most obvious was to cut and ran. But frightful visions of Mexican prisons flashed before her. Perhaps when no one at Clifton was looking she could manage to reach a phone. In the meantime Amaril was uncertain of her status. Was she a prisoner, a guest, or simply the victim the a senile old lady. But was Elizabeth Hampton senile? Her words were sharp and incisive, belaying her age. Perhaps it would be best to bide her time and explore the massive bulk of Clifton for a phone, some way of ridding her hands of the cuffs, and clothes to cover her nakedness. Clothed and with free hands she could face Mexico with more assurance.
A dark-eyed Mexican maiden came to clear the dishes. Amaril guessed her age as close to her own and found herself blushing beneath frank female assessment.
"This is Lola, dear. Lola is such a sweet girl and I've taught her English so you'll have no trouble communicating. Lola is going to look after you. You're not going to let this one get away like dear Phyllis, will you Lola?"
"No, Madam." The assurance seemed unnecessarily fervid. Amaril rose, once more extending handcuffed wrists. "Please, are you sure you don't have a key or someway of getting these things off my wrists? They're terribly embarrassing and they won't go any good... I'd be so grateful."
"I like them, dear. Please don't be tiresome."
An utterly baffled young woman was given plates to carry while Lola carried the tray. Their progress across the green sward was followed by the approving eye of benevolent hostess. Out of earshot, Lola forestalled the questions burning Amaril's tongue. "The senora is not a silly as you think, Miss Summers. How do you say it, she has all her marbles? She is very wise, old lady." Lola laughed softly. "You are going to ask me to get those handcuffs off your wrists, but this I cannot do. You must wear them. You must also stay naked the way you are. The senora Hampton is much loved by all. She is very rich."
"Get me to a phone and I'll make you rich."
"You are very bare, senorita, you have not the pesos. Please not to ask again."
"Well, all right," said Amaril in exasperation. "But this whole thing is crazy. Tell me about it."
"It is most simple, Miss Summers. Madam is very rich and can do whatever she likes. She is fond of young girls like you and me. She was most fond of Phyllis who stayed with us before I get careless and she run away. I will not be so careless with you. I do not wish to be punished so terribly again."
"You mean you were punished because you allowed a girl to go home!"
"Madam had me whipped most terribly, I thought I would die with such pain."
"Then why didn't you run away, too?"
Lola sighed at such innocence. "Because I am paid so much money. All the staff are paid many, many pesos. They are very loyal and you must never ask them these things you ask me." Lola turned an understanding gaze up Amaril's troubled features. Supporting the tray with one hand, she reached out and gentle touched the bare skin of the captive arm. "Please to be happy here, it is much the best."
"Happy! Happy with chained hands and no clothes!"
"You will get used to it, Miss Summers, the way Phyllis did. You must smile a lot so you do not get punished. I will help you."
"But not to escape?"
"Of course not, that is very bad word. Madam does not like it and Lola does not wish to hear it. I have permission to punish naughty girls. " The dark eyes twinkled mischievously. "But I will not punish the pretty senorita unless she is very, very bad. You must tell me know you will be obedient?"
"Oh, all right, anything you say. I think I've stumbled into a nuthouse but I'll make the best of it."
It was a lovely bedroom, with it's own equally luxurious bath. All windows were barred and, when Amaril tried the door after Lola's departure, she found it locked. There was a closet filled with gorgeous clothes the handcuffs forbid her to try on. There were draws containing much expensive lingerie. But there was no use asking for trouble. Amaril resolutely turned her back on temptation and ran herself a bath just for something to do. The bathroom was well equipped with things a girl might desire. The cuffed captive spent a couple of hours reveling in hot water, cosmetics and a variety of perfumes. When their allure was exhausted, she sat upon the bed, face to face with boredom, loneliness and fear. She thought of the Kypers' Queen and of the man and girl who had changed her life.
The telephone was hidden in a draw. Amaril discovered it only because it's presence was betrayed by the wire running from the wall jack. In feverish haste she dialed but was rewarded only by a flood of Spanish. Carefully she repeated over and over her message, promising rich rewards until a male voice interrupted in English to demand she repeat herself once more. When she did so the line went dead. Nothing she could do extracted life from it again. Amaril put it back in it's draw and shed a tear or two of pure frustration. Before she could compose herself again, the door opened and Lola told her brightly of an invitation to coffee in the garden.
It was a break she needed. She allowed Lola to chatter away happily about Clifton and, when they emerged into the sunlight of the patio, Elizabeth Hampton became visible beneath a shading tree at a table. She had been writing letters. But there was something else, something that caused Amaril to stop dead in her tracks. "There's a man with her! Oh, Lola, I can't possibly let him see me like this!"
"He has seen me like that many times, senorita," Lola said patiently. "Do not be alarmed. He is a very nice young man. He is also madam's grandson."
"But I can't, it's too... Too...."
"Yes, you can." Lola was laughing. "If you do not go to him, he will come to you and that will be very bad. Do you not remember obedience?"
What was the use! There had been plenty of men to see her naked, what did one more matter! It was hard to adjust but Amaril forced her steps to Lola's bidding. Reaching the shade of the tree she found herself absurdly piqued by only cursory attention while grandson and grandma finished what they were saying. She was then introduced to Mr. Nigel Asbury who, before stooping to kiss her hand, gave her the broadest of understanding winks.
Miss Elizabeth Hampton dispensed both coffee and information. "Nigel is my favorite grandson, my dear. He spends a lot of time with me at Clifton and I want you to obey him completely just as you obey me. This includes enjoying sexual intercourse together. And I don't want you to be difficult about this, it is part of your duties.
Amaril accepted her cup, stunned and furious, but another wink from Nigel modified the impact of the elderly ladies mention of the unmentionable. Mrs. Hampton continued. "Nigel likes to play with girls, he does the most amusing things with them. I am continually entertained by his ingenuity. He had so much fun with Phyllis."
"Was that the reason Phyllis ran away?" Amaril asked innocently. "Phyllis was a naught, ungrateful girl. Nigel should have punished her much more than he did. But she was very good for you, Nigel... In bed I mean."
"Absolutely grade A," Nigel confirmed. His speculative gaze upon Amaril's breasts hid none of his interest. "You'll be grade A, too, Miss Summers, I can tell. You won't go short while I'm around." Blush followed blush. Clifton was becoming increasingly hard to deal with. The conversation suddenly became ridiculous. "Ever been tied to a tree. Miss Summers?"
"Of course not! I think you're teasing me."
"No, honest. I've got a favorite tree in a delightful setting. Care to have a look?"
Amaril was about to angrily refuse when she realized Nigel was likely to be a lot more rational than his grandparent. She rose and said, "Thank you very much. If Mrs. Hampton doesn't mind...?"
The man and the naked girl walked slowly towards the trees. Safely out of hearing, Nigel laughed. "I'll bet you think we're all nuts. But you're wrong. What you're witnessing is the stained self indulgence of the very rich. Grandma has a quaint little quirk about keeping girls naked and handcuffed. Phyllis was busy keeping up with the old girl." He nudged his naked companion playfully in the ribs. "Don't take anything here too seriously. There's probably not another place like Clifton in the whole world. I'm just a playboy. You'll probably get to like me after your first distaste. I don't suppose you're a virgin?"
Nigel was easy to talk to. Amaril refused to thing about copulation, and anyway, she was most decidedly not a virgin. Suddenly she found herself pouring out the whole story of her kidnapping and the Kypers' Queen. Whatever else Nigel might be, he had a sympathetic ear.
"Makes sense. Explains how you got here. Phyllis was just a tourist who innocently walked in through an open gate and it took her a couple of years for her to walk back out. We won't be so trusting the second time, so you'll stay her a lot longer. There, what do you think of my favorite tree?"
It was indeed a nice setting, a sylvan glade of peace and shadows. The tree had a five inch trunk and the underbrush had been cleared away. It was no longer jungle but a park. Unmistakably present and the base of Nigel's tree were several considerable lengths of rope and cord.
"I see what you mean about the place," Amaril said politely. "It's quite lovely. Can we go back now?"
"I planned on trying it out with you, I thought you'd have guessed."
"You mean you want to tie me to that tree, Mr. Asbury? Really, isn't that going a bit too far! I'm getting awfully tired of this whole thing."
"Call me Nigel and I'll call you Amaril, or maybe something else I'll think up. Look here, Amaril, after what you've told me of that ship and what they did to you there, I'd think this would seem pretty damned innocent." Nigel sounded aggrieved.
"After all I had to put up with on the Kypers' Queen, I had to escape and now I'm confronted with something as bad. It seem more than coincidence."
"Face it, coincidences do happen. Being tied to a tree isn't the worse thing that can happen to a girl." Nigel's tone was persuasive. "I'll screw you first as a reward."
Amaril was becoming flustered. "Well, anyway, I'm already handcuffed. So you'd find it awkward to tie me up," she retorted.
"No problem!" Nigel fumbled in a pocket and came up with a key which caused Amaril's eyes to widen in fresh hope. "Here, sweetheart, hold out your hands."
Amaril never knew quiet how it happened. Perhaps some backlog of courage drove her to watch the unlocking of the cuffs and then to kick hard at Nigel where it hurt the most before fleeing for her life. But a girl's bare foot does little damage, Nigel's recovery was swift. As was his pursuit, he caught her easily before she was halfway to the house. He snapped one handcuff on her right wrist and jerked it painfully.
"My fault," he apologized, "I might have guessed you'd try that. You've got spirit, we'll have to be careful. Come along. This time I'm not asking, I'll telling."
Breathless from exertion, Amaril allowed herself to be led back to the tree. She knew it useless to fight Nigel, he could get the best of her easily. Arriving at the tree, she did not wait to be told but thrust her back against the trunk and stood listlessly in defeat as her arms were pulled around and back. Once more the wrists were handcuffed, more tightly than need be. She was now, indeed, a prisoner. When Nigel picked up rope she exclaimed in outrage, "Look, I'm as helpless as a girl can every be. You don't need to use rope on me as well. Go easy on me, I'm not accustomed to these silly games."
"You kicked me in the balls."
"I evidently didn't hurt you much. I thought I could run but you caught me easily. Please, Nigel, I'm helpless handcuffed like this with my hands in back. Rope is only going to hurt or make me uncomfortable."
"That's the general idea. It will also make you more beautiful than you already are, if that's possible." Nigel was busily looping rope. "You've got a lot to learn, Miss Amaril Summers. And this is the first time I've tied up the daughter of a multi-millionaire... Or should I say billionaire? You father's well up the ladder, I believe. Now, just relax." Nigel was a painstaking craftsman. First, Amaril's slender waist was cinched painfully back against the tree. Then her shoulders above the breasts which responded to the stricture by standing out with a prominence not normal to a girl's figure. He elbows could not be made to meet but where tightly secured by several strands which, from the very first, began to hurt. Amaril angrily refused to complain about the pain. Then her ankles and knees, it was a very thorough job.
"I could make a few additions to the ensemble," Nigel told her thoughtfully. "But this will do for the first time. I'll show you all the tricks eventually. And, anyway, this is only the tree effect, just good for starters."
The tightly bound and naked girl wanted to cry. She could scarcely move anything below her neck. But she had picked up a sinister note in her captor's last remark. "You mean you've got dungeons and torture chambers and chains and pillories?" she demanded anxiously. "Look, this is bad enough. I don't want anything worse!"
Nigel did not answer her question but explained apologetically, "I forgot to screw you first. Damn! Blame it on your running away like that. But don't worry, I'll look after you for sure when I set you free."
"When will that be?"
His lips were suddenly on hers, she could not draw away. Amaril gasped as a strong male hand thrust into the softness of her thighs and grasp her sex. As he busily kneaded the softness below her mound, he lowered his lips to her left nipple while teasing her right with gentle fingers of his free hand. His touch was skilled and could bring about but one response, in the choking voice of urgent emotions, Amaril gasped, "Oh, stop it, stop it! A climax is the last thing I need right now."
For a moment Nigel released an ardent rosebud to reassure, "Stop worrying, do you a world of good. Never look a gift horse in the mouth."
"But it will be horrible with me... Like this!"
It was no use. Her tormentor's lips and tongue were once more busily employed in the arousal of a girl. The girl, comfortingly helpless, accepted what she must. And when the time came for the gasps and moans, disgusted herself by her own intensity of sensation. She was a flushed and shamed young woman when Nigel stepped away.
"I knew you'd enjoy it," he said. "Now I'll leave you to sleep. Bye for now."
Amaril did not watch him go, her head was bowed, her eyes closed as though hiding from the world. Every breath she took expanded flushed, damp flesh against the cords, the handcuffs were slippery with sweat but still tightly clamped on her flesh. Rigidly supported by Nigel's strictures, she was willing to seek the solace of sleep. She could not fall and over taxed emotions screamed for the mercy of oblivion. Miss Amaril Summers was at a new beginning.
CHAPTER FOUR - A TRIP TO TOWN
The bewildered nude bound to the tree supposed she had slept, fitful relapses into an unconsciousness, heavily laced with lurid dreams of sharks and deep waters, along with a silvery haired old lady. When the captive girl woke it was to an increasingly painful helplessness. Nigel had done a rope job on her amounting to a punishment. Amaril moaned softly in dismay as she fought the cords and tugged at handcuffed wrists. After a long time she finally gave in and ceased to fight the ropes and metal cuffs.
The sun was still high, modifying the jungle sounds. Imagination flamed and Amaril wondered about the night. Surely they would not leave her thus through the hours of darkness, at the mercy of living things easily imagined. She did not know why she was bound like this at all, it made no sense. Amaril knew she was not being punished for some misdeed but only to appease a strange human emotion first glimpsed in Kypers' caning of her bottom and his insistence on bound hands. It was ironic that in her plunge from the Kypers' Queen, she had gone from the frying pan to the fire. She keep hysterical panic at bay by remembering the benevolence of her new captors. It was as if they had acquired a new pet who would learn their house rules day by day. She was as far removed from her father as at the moment of being kidnapped.
Elizabeth Hampton came in mid afternoon, spry and alert and walking with the aid of a stout cane but giving no evidence of needing it.
"I knew I'd find you here," she said. "Dear Nigel used to tie Phyllis to this tree all the time. I think the dear girl came to think of it as her tree. I hope you're enjoying it, too?"
"No, I'm not. Oh, please Mrs. Hampton, get me loose, get me untied. These ropes are hurting."
"It's your first time, dear, you'll be getting used to it. I can't possibly free you because he's got your hands locked behind the trunk and I don't have a key. Handcuffs are wonderful, aren't they!"
"They're horrible, they reduce a girl to nothing. Mrs. Hampton, I'm sure you can get me free if you really want to. I'm begging, I've had enough."
"Just the same words Phyllis used at first." The bright old eyes drank in the bound nakedness in pure affection. "It's such a pity Phyllis ran away. If Lola hadn't been careless, I'd now have two of you. It would have been so nice and I'm sure you would have gotten alone famously." The visitor contrived a dry chuckle. "The two of you would have given Nigel a wonderful outlet for his sex drive. He's quite accomplished in that area. I'm really quite proud of him."
"He says he's going to... Do it to me when he let's me loose. Mrs. Hampton, please don't allow him. I'm not that kind of a girl."
"I'll bet he's already given you an orgasm?"
"Well, yes he has. I hated it. Please don't allow him to molest me."
"You didn't hate it, dear, you're simply not accustomed to a man owning you. I'm very fond of Nigel, he's my grandson and heir to my estate. One day he'll be very rich and make a most desirable husband for any girl. Why don't you try and please him, it might be you." The generous suggestion filled Amaril with outrage. "What! And have him tie me to a tree everyday! No thank you!"
"It wouldn't be the tree everyday, dear. Nigel has all sorts of other nice things he does to girl. He used to get Phyllis into the most remarkable situations. I made a point of visiting the poor girl sometime during her day just as I'm visiting you now. I do want you to understand you belong to me and not to Nigel. I just allow him to use you when he's in the mood. I'll have Lola do things to you in my own way, you'll never be bored. You're so lucky."
"Please tell my father where I am. He must be worried. Even if you don't want to give me freedom, you can at least let him know I'm alive. Please...." The request was ignored. Elizabeth Hampton held all the cards and played them as she wished. She glowed in possessive pride at Amaril. "You do have the most marvelous breasts and a wonder triangle of pubic curls. Phyllis wasn't nearly as wonderful. I'm so glad you came."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hampton, but I'm hurting all over. Please help me."
"I never interfere with Nigel's pleasure, dear. If you don't stop asking me, I shall have to find a switch and teach you a lesson. Girls really do respond to a good thrashing. I hope you agree?"
"Yes, I expect you're right. I hope you'll forgive my inexperience in such things."
"Your bottom has been recently caned or whipped, child. It was one of the first things I noticed," the older woman accused. "Please don't play the innocent with me. I'll arrange to have you properly whipped when I'm in the mood."
Amaril felt like a little girl whose parents loved her deeply but punished her without mercy at their own discretion for faults she failed to comprehend. It was terrifying to realize that within the confines of Clifton reason had been set aside to be conveniently replaced by strange desires. Miserably, the tied girl asked, "How long do I have to stay tied to this tree?"
As usual her question remained unanswered. The dear little old lady was in the grip of concupiscence. "I'm am sure your nipples become very hard and very large when Nigel plays with them, my dear. Is that not a fact?"
"Yes, I suppose it is. I believe it's normal, something a girl cannot control. If I could, I would."
"Don't be ungrateful for your body, dear. I remember I got a great deal of pleasure from mine. Young girls are so lucky."
Amaril tried to remember where she was and under who's power she was. Mrs. Hampton's obtuse and careless benevolence should be nurtured, it could all too easily find expression in a whip. It was all too evident that to this woman a whip was often, perhaps always, the final answer in handling a young woman. Quite probably girls were more amusing to whip than men, no doubt providing erotic sounds and emotions not possible from a man.
Elizabeth Hampton appeared to have read her thoughts. "A girl can be whipped upon her front as well as upon her back, my dear. It is most diverting to whip her breasts and belly. I used to have Phyllis whipped like that all the time. You are nicely tied for it right now. But we mustn't tax you too much on this, your first day with us. We can leave it as something you can look forward to."
It was a subject best dropped. Amaril watched in surprise as Elizabeth Hampton, without a word of farewell, turned to resume her stately walk. Suddenly fearful of being left alone, the bound girl cried, "Don't leave me, please don't leave me like this!"
There was no answer, there never was an answer.
For Miss Amaril Summers, Clifton and its owner were quicksilver, slipping through the fingers, evading definition. The tree was a beginning, one more example of the strangest of sensation by which one human being is compelled into immobility by another's wish. A girl put in her time of standing or sitting still, always trying fruitlessly to free herself, and was then released to join the family without comment. There had been some logic about Karl Kypers holding her prisoner, at Clifton there was none!
Amaril slept behind barred windows and locked door, but in the sensual luxury of her bedroom, personally restricted only by handcuffs. They were the same handcuffs Kypers had locked upon her the night before. She had never been free of them and the captive reflected wryly on the possibility of them being locked upon her forever. But they did not inhibit sleep.
"Nigel will drive us to the village to do some shopping, dear," Elizabeth Hampton announced at breakfast. "I used to take Phyllis shopping all the time and I'll do the same with you. I don't suppose there's anything you need but, if there is I'll buy it for you. I do so want you to enjoy being my pet."
Amaril, naked but otherwise well groomed, was contriving to eat and drink with Kypers' handcuffs still locked upon her wrists, a trifle piqued by the unexpected comfort in which she coped. She knew it was useless to protest her status as the old lady's "pet," it was probably as good a description of her condition as any. Nigel was quietly enjoying breakfast and seemed satisfied to occasionally wink at the captive girl he had casually raped the day before. Good will hung above the breakfast table like a rose-colored cloud.
"You're going to' take me into the village like this?" Shock and hope mingled in her question.
"Yes, dear, but I'm afraid you'll have to wear a few trifles. It used to annoy me with dear Phyllis but the people here are all Catholics and we must never give offense. A summer and a pair of shoes is all you'll need. Lola will look after you in a little while. Wearing handcuffs the way you do adds a nice touch of costume jewelry."
"The so lovely dresses are of two kinds, senorita," Lola said an hour later as they explored the feminine treasures of the bedroom closet. "There are those we can fit tight above your so wonderful breasts and there are others with shoulder straps. The handcuffs most, of course, be worn."
"Why?"
"You chose to make the joke. No young lady guest of Clifton must have free hands. It is forbidden."
Seeking lost modesty, Amaril chose a lovely dress with shoulder straps. Nothing in the closet had much substance but she was thankful how few had see-through material. When she asked for panties and bra she was told the young ladies of Clifton never wore such things. Giggling, the dark-eyed maiden lifted her own gaily printed skirt to shamelessly expose her thick, black triangle of curls.
The shoes were a work of art! They were sleek and expensive and with a strap locking tight about the wearer's ankle. But their main feature and true purpose was the heels, heels so high Amaril knew she must learn to walk again.
"It is in case you run upon your toes," Lola explained matter-of- factly. "They make you beautiful but tell you you are not free. I know, I have worn them."
The captive girl knew her hosts insane but said no word. Escape was within her grasp. There would be those in the village who would give her aid and listen to her plea. Nigel and his grandmother were overstepping the bounds of caution and reason. Surely none can parade a near-naked girl around a civilized place without raised eyebrows and awkward questions. Amaril was excited but knew it must not show.
"You are very beautiful, senorita Summers. But none will help the way you think. Lola tells you not to be foolish girl and earn bad punishment."
Lola refused to say more. Amaril paid scant heed. A handcuffed girl with hobbled feet would evoke aid somewhere. The days of banditry in Mexico were long past. Mexico was now a civilized state. Amaril longed for Spanish words but perhaps there would be tourists. Someone would speak English, she felt sure of it.
The car was, of course, a Rolls, driven by a uniformed chauffeur. Amaril was given the honor of a window seat in the back. But when she waved handcuffed hands at a passerby on the highway there was no reprimand. If her captors knew the intent in her mind, they gave no sign but pointed out items of interest and spoke together casually of estate affairs. To Amaril the whole affair was quite unreal.
The village of Estobar fell just short of being a full sized town. It was a busy place, with a long main street well decked with shops. Amaril's cruelly shod feet found the hot pavement to absorb her first attention. Only later could she stare around. She thanked her stars she had practiced walking in those ridiculously high heels before they left. She was able to walk between her captors and keep up. If she got a chance to run, it would be upon her toes!
"You can carry this, my dear, if you wish." Mrs. Hampton thrust an empty handbag into the conspicuously joined hands. "You'll feel less awkward if you have something to hold. Please look around and enjoy yourself."
"I'll leave you two girls to your shopping," Nigel said flippantly.
"I'd only get in your way. See you back at the car. " He walked briskly away into the crowd.
Elizabeth Hampton was obviously well know. Women inclined their heads and men saluted formally. Few glances lingered upon the girl at her side. Amaril supposed they had become accustomed to Phyllis and were making allowances for an eccentric and very rich old woman. Her task might prove more difficult than supposed.
As if reading her thoughts, Mrs. Hampton said, "Don't hesitate to speak to anyone, dear, they'll be very polite. They know me and dear Phyllis used to ask one of them for help. You can do the same, I won't mind in the least."
It was cruelly deflating. The captive girl kept her own console and walked where Elizabeth Hampton led, going from store to store. Always the owner or his staff bestowed upon her such smiles she knew it futile to ask their help. There appeared to be no tourists.
Amaril was resigning herself to a humiliating return to Clifton when Mrs. Hampton's acute eye was attracted to something in a comer window. When the old lady walked ahead into the open door, Amaril turned and quickly fled down the intersecting street.
There was no time to do anything about the shoes. Running on nimble toes (which she knew would quickly tire), Amaril preyed the outrageous heels would find no surface fault by which to fling her flat upon her face. Those who saw her paid no heed.
The speeding girl slowed to a sedate walk at sight of an approaching uniform. A policeman would help her. A policeman would listen. A policeman might even remove the handcuffs. Her breathing slowed but her pulse quickened. Here was hope!
The man within the uniform bestowed the broadest of smiles and very white teeth. He listened gravely and it was some time before Amaril realized he understood nothing of what she said. In desperation she dropped the handbag and held up her linked wrist before his eyes, shaking her hands in an unmistakable plea for freedom. The smile broadened approvingly and his, "Si, senorita," was easy to understand. Amaril stood in shock as strong male hands tightened each cuff another notch painfully upon her wrists. If this policeman had a handcuff key, he most certainly did not use it. His hand upon her arm was cruelly strong.
The Estobar police house was not impressive and smelt of urine and stall food. The place absorbed Miss Amaril Summers like a return to the womb. Spanish flew back and forth in volleys but neither Spanish nor English was aimed directly at the trembling girl with hurting wrists. There was some laughter. After Amaril had been discussed to the satisfaction of all and her own pleas and protests ignored, she was escorted through corridors of brick and stone and locked behind iron bars in a small, unattractive cell. Her protest through the bars followed her jailers back down the corridor until they fell silent in defeat. The name of Preston Summers found no response.
The view beyond the bars was limited and unattractive. Amaril disgustedly shook the locked door without result and then sat upon the bench provided as a bed. Mrs. Hampton's handbag had been collected and then tossed upon the floor. It provided only a Kleenex which the prisoner used gratefully to wipe away the tears of self pity. Once more Amaril had leapt from the frying pan to the fire.
Elizabeth Hampton with Nigel in tow arrived within the hour. The arrested girl was thankful. The prospect of an indefinite incarceration in the little cell had demoralized Amaril to a point where Clifton became attractive. At the first sound of voices she had clutched the bars to listen.
"I am tremendously grateful to you, senior," Mrs. Hampton was saying in her sweetest tones. "It is so comforting to have men like you in charge, I feel so protected."
"It is a pleasure, madam," the male voice oozed deference. "No charges will be laid, the young lady was obviously lost and seeking aid." The amused voice of Nigel added, "I'll certainly give her some aid when I get her back to Clifton. The dear girl needs a lesson." They were now in view, surveying their prisoner through the bars with utter benevolence. "If you feel punishment is deserved, senora, the conveniences of my department are at your disposal. We have excellent instruments of correction?"
"You know, that's an excellent suggestion," Elizabeth Hampton glowed approvingly. "I think a touch of Mexican justice might do our little girl a world of good. Do you agree, dear boy?"
"We shouldn't be too hard on the kid," Nigel said grudgingly. "She doesn't deserve her back cut up for this little mistake. But, yes, let us accept the Captain's offer. The dear child will surely benefit." The "dear child" knew terror. The bars and the stone were without mercy and she could well guess at the "instruments of corrections." Pitifully she said, "I don't deserve to be punished, I haven't done anything. I've a perfect right to try to escape and go home if I can." She look directly at the Captain. "I'm the daughter of Preston Summers. He'll make you rich if you tell him where I am. And don't whip me... Please don't have me whipped!"
As usual no one heard. Chatting pleasantly, the trio unlocked the cell door to invite the quaking inmate to join them in the corridor.
"Let me help you with that dress, dear, you can't possibly wear clothes during correction. It simply isn't done."
It was hopeless. Amaril stood tearfully while being made naked, a condition of which the Captain obviously approved. One handcuff was briefly unlocked to enable the removed of the dress. Then her hands were raised above a cross piece of the cell bars and the handcuff reattached. The steel bit unkindly at her wrists but she enjoyed the privilege bare breasts against the bars or turning around to do the same against her bare back. For the moment she choose the latter in an endeavor to communicate.
"Please don't do this to me." He plea was directed straight at the grinning Nigel and his benevolent grandmother. "Please, it's barbaric. It's uncivilized. Please tell this man not to punish me."
"The senorita speaks as do all the other girls we fix thus for correction," the Captain observed helpfully. "Madam," he added, "would you prefer her correction to be with the whip or strap?"
"Make it the strap this first time. Her seat has been pretty well done with by someone else so she might as well get these on her back. I believe you have a female officer to perform the task?"
The "woman officer" arrived carrying a length of soft leather, at sight of which Amaril instantly turned around to face the bars, thrusting her bare breasts to each side of one of the metal struts to protect them. "How many?" inquired the new arrival. "Tell me when to start." Amaril was forced to conclude the strap a concession. She was well aware that her bottom was still an reminder of the erotic and arousing evenings with Kypers and Donna Martine. She doubted there would be such eroticism in what was about to be inflected upon her now. Hard against the bars but looking back with imploring eyes she whispered, "Don't, oh please don't."
"Isn't she sweet!" Elizabeth Hampton chuckled approvingly. "You may now begin."
The first crack of leather upon bare skin drove the breath from Amaril's lungs. She tugged vainly at the handcuffs above her head, and in honest disbelieve, looked back to exclaim, "No! Oh, no! Not any more. I can't stand another one like that."
No one heard, least of all the strap. It bit with frightening explosions of impact again and again across her shoulders, her rib cage and her waist. The punished girl thrust hard into the bars but they offered no refuge from the supple leather. Blood appeared around the handcuffs on her wrists but Amaril Summers did not know. All she knew was the impossibility of what was happening. But it continued to happen. "She marks beautifully," this from Nigel.
"We really must get one of these straps ourselves," commented Mrs. Hampton warmly.
"Allow me to make you a gift of this when we are done, " the Captain suggested. "We have a good stock on hand."
"Get many girls to use them on?" Nigel inquired, raising one eyebrow.
"Alas, yes," the Captain mourned. "The little girls who chose to prostitute themselves are given a good application of the strap before we send them home. Should they return, we advance them to the whip. "
"Is that better than locking them up?" Mrs. Hampton asked in genuine curiosity.
"Indeed, yes. If we lock them up they offer themselves to our staff and even to me. They are a disturbing influence. The whip deals with them most competently. There are those for whom there is no cure, their backs become well marked."
"Did you ever think of a pillory and whipping the little dears in public, Captain?"
"Indeed I have, senor." The Captain's tone leaked longing. "But those above will not permit. Alas, we have become too civilized. I fear the United Nations is on the side of prostitution."
Amaril heard the exchange through mists of pain. The woman with the strap was highly skilled, each blow impacting with a resounding crack or splat almost as frightening as the pain itself. The whipped girl shifted from foot to foot and strained vainly against ironed wrists. Nothing really helped, but from time to time after a vicious explosion of pain, she heard her own voice plead and beg and moan. "Please don't whip me any more," became an often repeated plea but one simply ignored as if never uttered. Mostly she did no more than gasp or moan, and thrust her forehead against the bar. At times the pain became too much and the beautiful American girl bit hard into the flesh of her upraised arm. There is very little a whipped girl can do except endure.
"Hold it a minute, ma'am," requested Nigel politely. "I'd like to test her reactions."
The proceedings halted while a male hand thrust hard between clenched thighs to cup and kneed her sex. The helpless girl moaned constantly at this violation of her flesh but was grateful for it held off the strap from bringing more pain.
"The little darling's as wet as a sponge in the bath tube," Nigel said. He thrust his wet palm against captive lips. "Here, this is all yours, lick it off."
The strap bit savagely again.
In the midst of her travail, an incongruity entered Amaril's mind. She wondered what she looked like, naked but with feet firmly locked to stand on high heels, knowing her body was stretched out. And how did she look when the pain crashed in on her? What expression did her face assume?
When the strapping of her bare flesh ceased it was hard to believe her punishment was over. She needed the support of a male arm as one cuff was freed and her hands fell to her sides. But they were not content to let her remain free of restraint, they were brought up before her and cuffed again in front.
"We'd like you to dress again, dear," Elizabeth Hampton's voice was solicitous but firm. "Here, I'll slip it over your head and do the fastenings. Your poor hands are probably numb."
Amaril sobbed quietly as gentle hands attended her. In a burst of chivalry, Nigel picked her up and carried her bodily past the curious eyes behind the bars, out to the waiting Rolls. The chauffeur held open the door while she was placed in the back seat. Escape had vanished from Amaril's mind. She would never escape, she knew that now. Her every effort must be to avoid the whip or whatever other "instruments of correction" Clifton might provide. She was carried directly to her bedroom but that night did not sleep along. Nigel was quite different from Karl Kypers but had his own technique. Miss Amaril Summers slept very deeply.
Amaril awoke to an empty bed. "Nigel is such a dear boy, he's away looking after my affairs," Elizabeth Hampton intoned at breakfast. "Now that you're naked again we must have to backing up to the big mirror from time to time to check on how the strap marks ripen. It was so generous of the Captain to give me such a lovely instrument by which a girl comes fact to fact with truth. I do hope you feel some benefit, dear?"
"I know I'm a prisoner and can't escape," Amaril admitted weakly. "But I'm puzzled. It all seems so senseless and unkind. I've never done you any harm, I don't see why you'd want me whipped."
"Amaril, dear child, you forget! Don't you remember you ran away from me, you tried to escape. That wasn't a bit nice."
As usual, Amaril allowed the matter to drop. Instead, she inquired politely, "I'd be awfully grateful if you would tell me what my life will be like as your prisoner. I know you call me a 'Pet' but I'm really your prisoner. Please tell me what I have to expect."
"Oh, darling, that's silly. Take away all suspense, all anticipation - I wouldn't dream of such a thing. I want everyday at Clifton to be a discovery for you. You're so lucky. My pets find out about life in all sorts of ways they never would had they failed to come here. You've had two really interesting days, first the tree and then the prison and the strap." Elizabeth Hampton sighed happily. "That strap made the most wonderful sounds on your bare skin!"
"You're so very sweet, Mrs. Hampton, I can't understand why you allow me to be hurt the way you do. That strap yesterday hurt more than anything I've ever known, more than I would have believed possible?"
"I don't suppose we'll need to punish you too often, dear," Mrs. Hampton mused thoughtfully. "After you've had a number of different punishments, you won't transgress any more, and then you won't be punished. You can understand that...?"
"I suppose I can. But do also approve of Nigel raping me whenever he feels like it?"
"Amaril dear, you exaggerate. That isn't rape and you know it. The dear boy is giving you pleasure. He does it with my complete approval. Isn't that what girl's are for?"
"I had hoped there might be others things...."
"I expect you're back is sore, darling. You'll feel better after breakfast when I should you around Clifton. You haven't really seen my home yet, it's such a lovely and interesting place."
"Thank you, I expect I'll enjoy it immensely. I haven't mentioned these handcuffs during breakfast but I'm wondering how long I'll have to wear them. Would you care to tell me?"
"Why, always, dear! You'll wear them always!"
"How long is always?"
"That's a silly question. Always is always. Please don't complain about them, they look sweet on you. I can't imagine a pet of mine without handcuffs."
Amaril sighed and allowed the subject to drop. She seemed forever dropping subjects, it made her realize how totally she was owned by this sweet little old lady who left her "pets" nothing much of their own lives, surrounded by a captivity. No doubt there were far worse things than wearing handcuffs. If only her imprisonment stopped there, it might be bearable.
The naked girl who was now a "Pet" was unhappily aware of a change within herself. The leather strap of yesterday had broken all barriers. While the resounding splats were loud upon her skin, all hope of escape had vanished. All through the night and on into the new day, Miss Amaril Summers had known herself conquered and diminished. The idea of someone communicating with her father now seemed ridiculous. Quite obviously Mrs. Hampton would never do it. And there was no reason why she should, she was happy in the possession of a charming pet and, if the pet was not happy in her lot, that was just too bad! The skillfully wielded leather planting its percussive retorts upon her skin had effected Amaril's entry into a new world of obedience, carnality, and a cautious tongue. Despite the dictates of reason, she thought longingly of the Kypers' Queen.
"My great grandfather owned slaves in the Old South," Elizabeth Hampton informed as they moved slowly from room to room. "It was so wrong of Mr. Lincoln to destroy such a wonderful way of life. But my grandfather and then my father carried on the tradition. I grew up with slaves around the house. Mostly they were girls who came to us the same way as you came to us. I never gave up the privilege of owning what I now call a 'Pet.' The almost miraculous way in which Phyllis and you came to me is proof that slavery is a part of the human condition. I find it wonderful, it is so very, very right."
"Is that what I really am, Mrs. Hampton, a slave?"
"Of course, dear, but you are a pleasure slave. You do not work in the fields nor labor in the kitchen. You are my own, darling pet."
"But what good am I? What do I achieve in life?"
"You amuse me, dear, and you'll save Nigel the trouble of running off to the city all the time. I don't know if the dear boy will ever marry but that's beside the point. He enjoyed Phyllis and now he's using you. I'm sure you see the logic of it all."
Amaril said no more. She knew it dangerous ground. Instead she made appropriate sounds of adoration and delight. The Clifton house was a treasure house of beauty, a period piece almost a museum. She could understand how, in these surroundings, an aging woman of unlimited wealth could come by ideas of omnipotence. The ghosts of liveried darkies were almost visible. They toured the basement and cellars but found no dungeon, no cells, no torture chamber. The huge area was confined to storage and domestic conveniences. But the topmost floor greeted her with shock.
"I think that dark dungeon idea is so silly," Elizabeth Hampton said as they viewed the cell beyond the bars. "I do like to see what I'm doing, and I don't want my pets getting morbid in the gloom. Look at that bright barred window which makes this little prison so cheerful." Amaril looked and shivered. She shivered many times as the top floor revealed its secrets. Elizabeth Hampton had been right about the daylight beyond iron bars but that was the only redeeming feature about these rooms designed for the imprisonment of girls and the special chambers designed to give them pain, or to fasten them in immobility. In a mounting tension Amaril could not stop herself from asking, "Will I be imprisoned here? Will these things be used on me?"
"We won't talk about that, dear." The ancient voice was as gentle as ever. "You must view Clifton's top floor in the same spirit as you have viewed everything else. Should you ever sojourn here... well that's a bridge you can cross when you come to it. There's just one more thing I want to show you."
The "one more thing" was Lola. Breakfast had been served by another maid and Amaril now saw why.
Lola's golden skin gleamed sweat. The Mexican girl was chained from an iron collar locked upon her neck to a ring in a stone wall. She was slowly and laboriously turning the crank of some instrument unseen in another room, its shaft entering the wall and lost to sight. It was obviously not an impossible task but was unquestionably hard work. Lola turned at their entry and contrived a smile.
"The dear child has been naughty," Mrs. Hampton said softy. "I dislike whipping girls all the time, it's so unoriginal and sometimes the marks last all too long. A girl's skin is very beautiful and should only be wealed at rare intervals. Dear Lola will learn her lesson from the task you see her engaged in now." Mrs. Hampton turned to the laboring girl, "Just stop a moment, Lola dear, I would like you to tell Amaril about your punishment."
Lola let go of the crank. Her voice was strangely monotonous as if reciting a repetitive script. "I have been naughty girl, Senorita Summers. It is necessary I be punished but my mistress is very kind, I do not get whipped. I must turn this handle many times before I serve at dinner. If I fail to do this, it is then I feel the whip." She sighed without rancor. "It is very hard work, I get much tired."
"There is a device on the other side of the wall to register each turn, " Elizabeth Hampton explained. "Lola can stop at anytime she wishes and rest as often as she likes. But her tally must be complete by the end of the afternoon or her skin will be marked in the manner I deplore. "
"How does she know how many turns she's made, she cannot see the machine?"
"She doesn't know. Not unless she counts in her head with no mistake. It adds a nice touch of anxiety to the punishment."
"I try so hard to keep the count but I always forget," Lola mourned. "I give up trying today because I forget so much. Please, Madam, may I turn the crank again?"
"Isn't she sweet!" The old voice was warm with affection. "Yes, Lola dear, you may go to work again. I am so proud of you, I am sure you will not need to be whipped. Come, Amaril, it is time for morning coffee."
Amaril hesitated only long enough to behold Lola resume her enforced labor, her chain to the walk swaying musically as she turned the crank. The rippling muscles of her gorgeous body showed the stress required complete even one turn of the crank. The handcuffed girl wondered how long it might be before she also was chained where Lola labored now.
"I expect you wonder why Lola remains in my service and discipline?" Mrs. Hampton suggested as she poured coffee. "All my staff is subject to such discipline. None are exempt. They accept it gladly for I am most generous with their pay. I have often considered punishing one of them so severely as to test the potency of cash compared to pain, a matter of interest I have not yet dealt with."
Amaril did not respond. The top floor had given her shivers. She drank her coffee and they talked of other subjects. Handcuffed and nude, she was the ideal pet. Elizabeth Hampton told her so in glowing terms. That night she was delivered once more to Nigel.
CHAPTER FIVE - AMARIL AND THE POST
Nigel looked down at the handcuffed girl sprawled on the bed. "Damn it, Amaril, you look good! You put Phyllis in the shade. Could be it's because when I screw you I'm shoving it into a couple of billion dollars, whereas poor Phyllis didn't have a dime. Do you think that's what it is, just money? Or did Kypers teach you something?"
"It's in the mind, Nigel. And I wish you wouldn't talk about Phyllis and screwing the way you do, it's not a bit nice. As far as I can see, Phyllis was a nice girl."
"We won't let you escape as easily as she did," Nigel declared firmly. "By the way, I ran a check on that guy Kypers. I knew about him previously, of course, but I wanted specifics. He's quite a guy. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him. He may even have more dough than dear Grandma. Ready for another screw?"
"How do you want me this time?" It was the ancient question of the whore.
Amaril had abandoned complaint, no longer thinking of Nigel's use of her as rape, but gaining what pleasure she could from it the same as she had with Karl Kypers. Nigel was not in Karl's class but was capable of imparting much pleasure. After the cloying sweetness of his grandmother, he was a distinct relief. At least he called a spade, a spade.
The Shakespearean quotation of, "Once more into the breech, dear friends...." could have been Nigel's battle cry. He pierced Grandmother's pet in as many of the thirty-six positions as could be contrived. There was more humor in him than in Karl, but with either of them a girl got herself properly ravished. Quite probably a slavegirl's bedtime with her master was her only recreation. Once more Amaril was what her present master described as "Rogered." Once more she made herself receptive to conservation.
"Damned interesting, that about Kypers' caning your bottom as an aphrodisiac." Nigel mused thoughtfully. "Don't need it myself and you certainly don't. Is that the only place he whipped you?"
"Yes. Nigel, please don't try it out on me. I'll be sorry I ever told you."
"Okay, okay. I'll save it for emergencies. If you or I get a bit jaded it can be a quick pick-me-up. Has the old lady told you yet what she wants."
"Obedience, isn't that all?"
"Hell no! She wants us to get married."
The sweet bedewed nudity tensed. "You have to be kidding!" It was all she could think to say.
"She'll tell you herself sooner or later. I've known about it every since she first set eyes on you. When you come to think of it, the logic sort of hits you in the eye. Two vast fortunes merged in matrimony. Used to be the proper thing to do. Thing of all those British noblemen who dragged an American heiress to the alter. Worked out pretty good as far as I know."
"I suppose the bride was whipped before and after the wedding," Amaril said in a bitter tone.
"Well you do have to admit that whipping you got in the prison has made you a much better piece of ass."
"It's made me hurt, that's what it's done!"
"Well, anyway, what do you think of Grandma's little plan?"
"It's crazy! There's no way...."
"Damn it, am I that ugly!"
"No, you're rather sweet in an unkind sort of way. But you'd make a terrible husband."
"I'll bet your old man would think it a wonderful idea. You can provide him with a balance sheet that's damned impressive."
"Neither of my father's daughters are for sale. He'll kick you downstairs and probably grandma with you. Nigel, just drop it."
"But Amaril, my pet, just think what a chance it is for you to talk to daddy and persuade him to rescue you from the wolves?"
"You've made it damn good and plain you won't allow me to talk to Daddy. If you won't allow it now, I'm sure you won't allow it then." Amaril twisted restlessly upon the covers. "Having me whipped that way robbed me of hope. I don't expect to very be free again, not even as you wife."
"It didn't hurt that bad!"
"Yes it did, that and the shame. It was horrible!"
"Gosh, sweetheart, after you've been whipped a few more times it will seem kid's stuff. You'll even laugh at it."
Amaril sniffed and kept a cautious silence. Finally she retorted, "If all this is a proposal of marriage, the answer is no."
"Supposing I have you whipped until you say yes?"
"I'd run away at the alter. I'd refuse the responses."
"Ahhhh... But you're thinking of a wedding in the good old USA. Suppose we invite a Mexican magistrate to perform the ceremony. You'd still be handcuffed but we would allow you some clothes. You'd have no place to run to."
"If I did marry you, would I get rid of the handcuffs?"
"No."
"Well that's the answer. Nigel, please don't let's talk about this any more. If we go on, I'll just get myself punished. Why don't you roger me again and forget the whole thing."
Nigel unexpectedly let the subject drop. At breakfast the next morning it was revived. A smiling Lola, naked above the waist as if to display a back free from whip marks, was back on duty as a demonstration of the changing fortunes in this strange house.
"Nigel tells me you are aware of my desire, dear," said Mrs. Hampton, "for you both to be joined in marriage." Her voice was sweet with approval. "You are such a lucky girl, Nigel is so wonderfully virile. His is also my only heir. Have you set a date for the wedding?"
"I'm not going to marry Nigel or anyone else. Please don't let's talk about it, I'll only get myself punished."
"Please don't be silly, Amaril my pet. I can easily have you dealt with in such ways as to make you happy to say yes. Surely you realize that."
"Of course I do. I'm scared to death. But there's not a thing I can do about it. I can't marry Nigel and I can't escape. You've got me, I'm helpless. Can't you realize the awful spot I'm in?"
Without apparent reason the subject was dropped. They talked of other things but Amaril was aware that she had not heard the last of it. At noon her fears came true.
It was the familiar beach, but now the tide was low to reveal a long expanse of wet sand. At the water's edge a post had been embedded in the sand. When Nigel heaved his weight against it, it stood firm against the thrust. It would certainly hold a girl!
"I suppose you can guess about this little pleasantry?" said Nigel carelessly. "It's been done before. When the tide comes back in and starts lapping at you chin, you'll be willing to say yes to anything. Do you really want us to go through with this?"
"Please don't be so silly, darling!" Grandma's voice seemed touchingly sincere.
Amaril never really understood her motives. She only knew she must hold out until the last. She liked Nigel and was fond of Mrs. Hampton but they were so far out of her world and promised so unattractive of an enslavement that she could see no other course. Amaril did not bother to run, it would be useless. Flaunting courage she did not feel, she thrust her naked back against the post. She asked defiantly, "Which direction to you want me to face?"
Elizabeth Hampton watched, regretful but enchanted as Nigel took charge. He positioned the unresisting naked girl, his sacrifice to Neptune facing the ocean by which she would die. Unwilling to remove the handcuffs, he bound them to the post so she must raise her arms above her head in the most flattering pose a woman can achieve. Then he bound this maiden to the wood which would hold her to the last feminine curl of hair was beneath the waves. There was no need for additional binding, the roped handcuffs would have held her to the bitter end but Nigel was an artist who could not scorn a virgin canvass. He looped cords upon bare shoulders and bare beasts, pulling them wickedly tight to cause the girl pain with each in-drawn breath. He did the same with her waist, band after band of rope, cinched cruelly. From this rope belt he allowed two strands to fall. Carefully he opened the lips covering her pussy and tucked the rope within. Those ropes were tightened down and disappeared into Amaril, covered over by her soft flesh. The ropes went between her legs and were tied very tight behind the post. Paying no heed to Amaril's pleading that such shame was pointless with a girl about to die, he knotted the rope firmly.
"Don't be silly, darling, you know why I'm doing you up this way. Sort of an artistic touch which makes you perfect, absolutely perfect. Now for you knees and ankles and then you'll be ready."
Amaril knew what she'd be ready for, there was no need to ask. With her knees tight clamped to the wood, she said, as if in wonder, "All I can move is my head. Is that what you want?"
It was most definitely what they desired. Risking wet feet, they circled the post and its lovely victim several times. They both kissed her warmly and issued an assurance that they would return in time for her to recant. They seemed in genuine regret in her decision to hold out to the very last. They obviously had not doubt about her eventual surrender. Amaril doubted everything. Her mind was a turmoil of emotions she could not control. She said, "I hope you know what you're doing, I think you're condemning me to death. You think this an amusing game but it's not that at all. I could easily die."
Each of them kissed her warmly again and went away.
It was almost a relief to be alone. Amaril fought her bonds vainly for a few minutes but then resigned herself to being a prisoner to the very end. She had no doubts that she would give in. But there was something within her that would not allow her to give in easily. Yet, when the water rose to her neck... The urgent question was, would they be back in time? Perhaps they would misread the chart by which they were timing their actions? A few minutes too late would be too late for Amaril.
By the time they were out of sight, sea water was creeping between her toes. It seemed only a little time before her ankles were covered with the cold water. She wondered if there were marine creatures likely to feed upon her flesh before she drowned. She felt safe from sharks but that was about all. She remembered reading about two women in Scotland subjected to this ordeal. Both had died. It was such a waste when men adored girls as much as Nigel had shown adoration in his enjoyment of her body. By the time the water reached her knees, Miss Amaril Summers was in a state of panic, accusing herself of stupidity in allowing her test of independence to go this far.
Once more she tested her bindings. She could not move. Perhaps such immobility was merciful. If she had been held only by the handcuffs above her head, she would have thrashed this way and that, tugged and pulled, and at the end be no better off than now. She tried to look back around the post to see if help was visible but could not. Her view was of the ocean from whence she came. Miss Amaril Summers wished she were back in that dark water, handcuffed and naked, but free and swimming for shore again. Any motion would be merciful but she could not move. Nigel had bound her painfully tight against the spar and was probably chuckling with his grandmother over what a stupid girl she was.
When the first wavelet lapped her pubic hair she cried hopelessly for help. The ocean was filled with dark, fearsome shape and the relentless promise of death on the tide. It was a slow upward progression, a perfect form of torture. Small creatures were now finding her flesh, tiny crabs crawled across her toes, small fish nudging at her skin. To the creatures of the deep, Miss Amaril Summers was a most interesting piece of edible animal that did not seem to mind their probings and tiny nips. At least she didn't push them off or back away. They became braver when they found that their attention was not prevented.
Again Amaril cried out in growing fear. The roll of breakers was now not far distant. Each closer, and each freshly wetting her skin. When one of these lapped her naval, the bound girl knew herself half way to whatever fate Clifton wished for her. She tired to close her eyes so as not to see the water, but it was useless. She could not black out the feeling as more and more of her body was claimed by the sea. Amaril felt certain that when her breasts disappeared under the waves, fear would drive her into hysteria and she would become a screaming, gibbering idiot.
"Gosh, Amaril darling, is that what they do to a girl here? Oh, wow!"
She was already going crazy. Donna's voice could not possibly be real, and Donna's concerned features must be an insane projection of a brain breaking under stress. If it was not imagination, then Donna stood before her, naked and carefree, her own breasts close to being covered by the wave. This image of Donna gazed at Amaril with concern.
"The bastards, the absolute bastards to do this to you," the vision of Donna proclaimed with feeling. "Hold still, I've got a knife."
It took the rescuer several dives beneath the surface to carefully sever unseen ropes without slicing Amaril's flesh. The visible ropes were easily disposed of as were the cords holding cuffed hands above her head. In thankful disbelief the freed girl could only grasp, "Oh, Donna. Oh, Donna. Oh, darling...." The two girls scrambled towards the sand until Donna's fingers were restraining on a bare arm. "It's not safe to go up there. Whoever they are, they may be watching and I don't want to get myself to a post at low tide. The Kypers' Queen is around the point. Can you make it?"
"Of course I'll make it! Get me out of here. Let's get going while we can."
They swam side by side but using different strokes. "Sorry I don't have a key to those cuffs, darling," said Donna. "But they didn't stop you before." Donna sounded like a girl who had matters well in hand.
"What the hell goes on back there?" she asked.
Amaril told her story between the lunges dictated by joined hands. Her back bore mute testimony to the truth of what she told. When the shore was well behind, a huge swell lifted them high enough to behold Nigel running along the beach, shouting something they could not hear. The top of the wicked post was still visible until the swell lowered them. Clifton's great house and green trees also disappeared. Amaril was still expressing incoherent thanks.
There is something majestic and awesome about the sudden emergence of a large ship from behind a point of land. The Kypers' Queen steaming carefully close to shore was huge within their view, a heaven within easy reach.
"Boy, am I glad to see that!" Donna exclaimed. "Look, darling, are you sure you want to go back to what is waiting for us aboard that ship, or do you want to swim around the bend and take your chances on dry land?"
Amaril was breathless, this whole adventure beyond belief. Sharks and men were forgotten in this joy of motion, this freedom from the ropes and chains of slavery. "I'll stay with you," she said firmly. "I want to, believe me I want to. And, anyway, I won't stand a chance on land. Whoever I ran into would take me back to Clifton instantly. Come along, I can swim like this pretty good."
The ladder was waiting. "The crew is watching," Donna said, breathlessly. "I can climb that ladder but you can't, not with those handcuffs. I'll shout for them to lower a rope."
Minutes later Miss Amaril Summers stood naked and glistening wet on the deck of the Kypers' Queen. Besides her was a very happy Donna, and around both of them and admiring circle of male eyes. Amaril could not have cared less. In the great thankfulness, she clasp hands behind her neck and turned nudity around and around for male inspection, laughing at their astonished faces.
"Have a good look," she taunted. "Goodness knows where I'll be tomorrow."
Donna took Amaril by the arm. The men made way. They shared a bath while Donna explain, "Karl is called away. He went by helicopter. We'll pick him up again when we reach San Pedro." She made a wry grimace. "He made me confess about how you escaped and where. I couldn't be too definite, I had only the lights for guidance, but Karl knows the coast. And he also knew about that couple who made you prisoner. Their pleasures are well known but ignored because of their wealth. Besides, the old lady can't last long.
"We finished the errand we were on and he decided that on the return journey, I should either get you back or learn enough details about your fate so he could do it. Gosh, darling, you must have had courage to dive into that dark, black water in the middle of night. It scared me, even in day time. Jeepers, I'd have looked damned silly with no clothes and no Spanish!"
The two girls sat in Kypers' lounge and sipped Kypers' cocktails. In answer to Amaril's urgent concert, Donna ruefully admitted, "No, Karl hasn't had me punished yet. I think he felt confident he'll get you back, and he plans to punish us together. There's no earthly reason why he should punish you but he had you scheduled for a good whipping before I opened the porthole. He assumes we're equally guilty about your escape, and I didn't argue. We'll both have a bad time when he returns but the pain won't last forever. If Karl insists on having two girls instead of one, I'm not going to complain. I was jealousy but if I'm to share him with another girl, I'm glad it is you. You're a very nice girl, Amaril, and Karl's got enough for both of us. Especially when he canes our bottoms the way he does. That's sure fire!"
"May I phone my father while Karl is away?"
"No, you know you can't. Karl sort of left me in charge and he was insistent about that. You mustn't go near a phone."
"So, okay, I can't speak to Daddy, but how about you phoning him and telling him I'm okay?"
"That's forbidden, too. Karl will deal with your father in his own way. Darling, this probably sounds a bit mean but it's my opinion he'll probably use you until he's bored then send you home. Believing that makes it easy to share him with you. Gosh, does that sound awful?" The things the two girls did on the voyage back to San Pedro was dictated by Karl Kypers: no clothes, no telephone, handcuffs on Amaril at all times. The final admonition was delivered hesitantly with embarrassment. "Darling, I can't help this but every evening one of the crew has to chain you in the brig the way it used to be. We can be together all day but his majesty wants us apart at night. He says I'll turn you into a lesbian."
Amaril was not too much concerned, she was so thankful to have escaped Clifton that the exchange of one captivity for another seemed of little import. When night came she followed the crewman in complete docility and stood still to be chained without complaint. It was almost laughable that the handcuffs remained upon her wrists with the heavier bands of iron. The port hole was screwed tight shut. Amaril sensed the sailor would like to do more than chain her to the wall, but the edicts of the man who owned the ship were Law. He locked the door upon the girl he had ironed and went his way. Within the brig Amaril sat upon the bench and wept in thankfulness. All things are relative, it was like coming home.
It was a happy halcyon time without authority. Donna and her captive did as they pleased within the tolerance of Karl Kypers' orders. Amaril never tired of telling of Clifton and Donna never tired of listening. They speculated upon Donna's possible fate had she gone first to the house before discovering Amaril against the post.
"That guy wouldn't have married me the way he wanted to marry you," Donna said with conviction. "I'm not in his class, money-wise, but I wouldn't mind trying him out one evening. What I really want is Karl to marry me, if he ever gets around to it. I'd sure like to be Mrs. Karl Kypers."
"I'll bet he'll still keep you prisoner," Amaril said sagely.
"I wouldn't mind. If he married you, he'll keep you handcuffed or in irons when he wasn't showing you off." Donna snorted indignantly. "But he doesn't seem to see me in the same way. He told me straight you were absolutely designed to be ironed or handcuffed but I didn't strike him the same way. I wish I was, it would give me stronger hold on him."
"And give you a bad time."
"Not really. I'd be quite happy in irons or handcuffs so long as Karl was around. I'm not too keen on the brig but maybe he wouldn't put me there." Donna laughed. "This is crazy! He'll probably not marry either of us. I'll simply remain his concubine and forget the rest of it. After a while you'll be sent home to Daddy." She sighed. "It's hell to be a girl."
The return of Karl Kypers to his ship was typified by his statement to a pair of anxious young women, "We'll have ourselves a time tonight. Tomorrow you'll both get what's coming to you. How's that for a good deal? Pleasure first then pain."
Amaril knew she had nothing to say about any of it. She was keenly aware of Kypers' pleasure in once again possessing her. By normal standards she should fear the man, but by her standards she did not. She saw Kypers as a force, a power, an element using her as he saw fit. Amaril could no more contest Kypers' authority than attempt to change the course of stars. She refused to think of the punishment to come but dived into the evenings orgy with an appetite. When she slept, her bottom hotly aflame, she did not dream of whips or cords or irons but of the blonde giant who held her enthralled.
It was a glorious day. Amaril sighed in mourning for what might have been. The sun was warm on bare skin and the sea was a model of good behavior. In a faint disbelief at what was happening, Amaril gazed up the length of her arm to where her handcuffs were locked around the hollow above her elbow. There they were handy for when next required. Her wrists, freed of steel, were now stretched to either side above her head and corded tightly to the rigging. She was waiting to be flogged.
A few feet to one side Donna was fastened in a similar manner except that in her case the wristlets she always wore were used to affix her wrists. Their view was out to sea, the blue water shimmering peacefully in the morning sun. They frequently exchanged glances but apprehension limited conversation. Their still-free feet changed position from time to time in an effort to easy the weariness of standing still. Each girl longed to lower her arms. If it pleased Karl Kypers to leave them alone with their thoughts, there was nothing they could do about it.
"I'm frightened." The whisper barely reached Donna's ears.
"Of course you are and so am I," she answered despondently. "I'm sorry I got you into this, I should have known better. Look, Amaril my sweet, we mustn't be ashamed of the way we're going to behave. Don't try and hold back your screams, I'm not going to. Let's give them every decibel we've got." With a touch of cynicism she added, "Men hate to hear a girl scream. They'd much prefer us to make ladylike sounds and polite requests to not hit us so hard. Every guy on this ship will get an erection while our skin is being marked."
Amaril was ruefully thankful for the leather used upon her in the Mexican jail. She knew this was going to be worse but the strap had introduced her to a new reality. It had been a prelude, a conditioning for the man who would soon come with the whip to make her and Donna scream as he cut away at bare backs and bare bottoms they could not protect. She wondered if she could effect a convincing faint. But that would have to be very real indeed to fool Karl Kypers. She glanced around fearfully but no one was in view. If she was to be whipped there was as yet no evidence it was about to happen. Hopelessly she allowed her head to fall forward as her bound, bare arms compelled her to stand.
The faces of the crew showed varying expressions as they gathered for the show. The exclusioner, a bored looking man in his thirties, took pains to allow the girls to examine the instrument by which they were to be made highly aware of their condition as slaves. He patiently explained it was not as long as expected because a girl's naked back was a relatively small target, especially when the thong must not curl to bite a breast or draw blood from a tender groin. Amaril got the impression he was a man of some experience in the whipping of girls.
Kypers was in high humor, patting female bottoms with a hearty assurance that what they were about to receive would be highly beneficial. He lost no time in urging the man with the whip to use it on the prisoners. He told him to let the first stroke fall on Amaril. The second was assigned to Donna, the third to Amaril, and so on, back and forth. He was to perform this function slowly for maximum effect.
Two nudities stood tense, the crew was breathless. If Karl Kypers was a sadist his behavior was hardly what one would expect. He announced he was busy in his office and would leave the boys to do the job and there was no need for him to hang around. "May as well gag the little darlings," he said. "They'll make a hell of a noise if you don't. Even with their mouths locked tight, they'll manage more sound than you'd expect. Get busy."
Neither of the girls had said a word and their chance to do so rapidly vanished nibble fingers of the man in charge. Their cheeks were filled, their tongues depressed as they obediently clenched lips to accommodate the shaped leather band which covered their mouths and buckled tight behind their necks. Their lips sealed, the two girl exchanged anguished glances before staring out to sea to await the leather kiss. When it came, a diagonal cut across Amaril's shoulders, she screamed again and again behind the gag, flinging her head back and forth, lifting herself by her bounds. The thong had left a vivid imprint she could not see.
It was the same with Donna. Even in her own demonstrations of agony, Amaril beheld the whip cutting Donna's back as it had cut her own. Donna's screams were muffled as were Amaril's, but the sounds that came out would tear at your heart. These were two girls in real, true pain. The crew watched on, collectively holding its breath, as the two blows were slowly dealt, one to each girl.
After Donna's stroke, there was a pause. The man with the whip said cheerfully, "That's all girls. Have a nice day." He left them standing with backs and bottoms afire and walked away. The rest of the crew departed to return to their duties. Amaril saw them go in disbelief. Something was wrong, this had to be some kind of a cruel joke! A girl to be whipped was never granted the boon of just a single stroke! She longed for Donna's explanation or guess. But since neither girl could speak, she could only stand mute along side her friend with scolding wrists and throbbing back to await her master's pleasure.
It was long in coming. The girls bound to the rigging were certain hours had passed before they heard Kypers' cheery, "You two girls hanging around for something?" Shivers ran down Amaril's spine. She turned to meet the frankly amused eyes of her lord and master. "Damn it, that asshole forgot, he left you gagged!" Kypers' laugh sounded sincere. "I'll bet you're bustin' to say something."
It was pure glory to loose the gag. Amaril's, "Thank you, oh thank you!" was most sincere. The dryness of her mouth was eased by a bottle thrust between parched lips. She drank avidly, not even caring what the bottle might contain. The contains burned down her throat and, when the bottle was removed from her lips, she gasped. After a deep breath she blurted out, "Is it over? Are we still to be whipped?" All Amaril got for answer was some fatherly pats upon her bottom. She hadn't expected an answer, anyway. She watched Donna freed of the gag. Her wrists pleaded for release but she dared not ask. She was also utterly weary of standing with outstretched arms but knew nothing she could say would influence her master's treatment of his pets.
"Just wanted to see how you were making out," Kypers said in a friendly manner before walking away.
"The son of a bitch, he's having fun with us." Donna's exclamation was without heat. "He's going to keep us guessing, it's at times like this I'd willingly jump overboard with you. Oh, shit!"
"Has he done this to you before?"
"Oh, sure. But a girl never gets used to it. A girl expects terrible things to happen. Sometimes they do, but mostly they don't. That's what makes it fun for Karl. He'll be chuckling all day about having us on the hook."
"Oh, Donna, not all day!"
"Sure, why not! If we're not going to get our skins marked up more, this is a cinch." She sighed longingly. "I have to be nuts but I'm in love with the guy. He'll worm his way into your heart if you're not careful. It's those things he does to us in the evenings and all night, sometimes. It's addictive. I don't know about you but I'm hooked for sure."
"But, Donna, I'm so tired. He's kept us this way for hours!"
"That's all in your mind, darling, Enjoy the ocean view and let's see if we can't find something to talk about. I'U bet right now you'd be glad to go back to the Clifton place and those two crazies. " Shrewdly, she ventured, "You would, wouldn't you? I just know you would." Memory of the post and the raising tide made it easy to deny but Amaril unhappily added, "Anyway I look at it, I'm a prison to people who aren't exactly normal. I wouldn't know which to chose even if I had the chance. All I want to do is go home. Donna, are you sure there isn't some way...?"
"Only the way you did before. Want to try it again?"
"You mean jump overboard? Would you come with me? I mean if we sight land somewhere?"
"No. Karl isn't often this mean. I'll stay with him. Cheer up, darling, and be thankful you only got one stroke. If you'd have twenty of thirty like that, you'd have something to complain about. Don't tell me you don't have a tender spot for the big, blonde brute?"
It was crazy but true. When Kypers had held the bottom to her lips their eyes had met and she had seen in his something she longed to explore. Karl's impositions had all been bearable, even this! Her worst ordeal had been with the sharks just after being kidnapped. Since his interest had become purely carnal, Amaril had come to see Karl Kypers in the manner of a slavegirl, yearning for a master's affection. If you master loved you, nothing would hurt so much. That the daughter of one of the richest men in the word should be reasoning along these lines had to be absurd, but there it was! Amaril twisted at her bindings and settled down to stand for the pleasure of a man who had been no more but a name a month before.
The time passed slowly. Crew members wandered by but none spoke or touched. The bound girls had little to say, they had exhausted comment previously and now stood unhappily, shuffling feet from side to side without finding comfort. It was late afternoon before their owner announced his presence.
"Well, well, still there! I would have supposed you would have gotten yourselves loose long ago. Or seduced one of the boys into cutting those ropes."
Donna contented herself with a meek, "Hello, Karl." Amaril said nothing but was suddenly shocked as a massive male hand thrust between her legs, rose up to grasp her most private place. Her feet were suddenly off the deck. The strain taken from her wrists as the hand clamped with authority between her thighs, and the bound girl experienced a flare of lust to drive all else from her mind. She was held, she was owned and the man she belonged to was obsessed by the beauty of her nakedness. Amaril did not fight or squirm but accepted the perch, her feet dangling, her tied hands clutching at air. Amaril was gasping in a well of pure sensation.
"You like that, heh!" Kypers chuckled as his grip tightened, causing his property to gasp anew. "Now let's have a look at the damage." He sat her back upon her feet and drew a hard finger squarely upon and for the full length of the whip mark on her back. Amaril never knew how it happened but she climaxed in an explosion of strained senses. Kypers watched and listened with clinical interest as the lovely torso jerked and the dry lips moaned tribute to his skill. He patted her bottom before turning his attention to Donna.
When Amaril's hands were finally freed, she threw them around her master's neck, lifting herself from the deck in the feeling of gratitude. She knew this gratitude was inconsistent. Kypers had been the one to order her bound and whipped in the first place, but she had given up worrying about guilt or innocence. All she knew was a comforting security in being possessed by the blonde giant she could not escape. Kypers laughed, genuinely pleased at her response, then eased her down as he unlocked the handcuffs from above her elbow and replaced them upon her unresisting wrists. It all seemed very natural and as it should be.
Once more the friendly slaps across bare bottoms, followed by the order, "Go to my office, Amaril. Wait for me there while I attend to my other little lady."
Amaril was puzzled but obeyed. Puzzlement was a part of her life now, her owner calling the shots in an alternation of cruelty and kindness. The captive felt certain there was affection in there somewhere. Or was it only a reflection of her own feelings! She did not know.
On her way to Kypers' office Amaril stopped long enough to look back and see Kypers and Donna earnestly talking. She shrugged. Kypers would have to deal with two women, one of whom was dedicated to being in love with him, while the other knew herself drifting in the same direction. Karl Kypers' methods of dealing with feminine jealousy and female ambition would probably be painful. But, continuing her errand, the handcuffed girl found comfort in the single whip weal upon her back, it could so easily have been twenty or thirty. Kypers was not the blonde brute she had at first supposed.
The most important facts of life fall upon us unawares. The first object to catch Amaril's eye as she entered her master's office was the telephone. Refusing to think or count costs, she feverishly lifted the receiver and dialed, her gaze anxiously upon the stairs Kypers must descend to find her. There were the usual clinks and buzzes and phantom voices before she realized she had contact with her father's office and the familiar tones of his secretary. The harassed captive, fearful of her own bravery, blurted out her message to a receptive ear. Before she could ask for her father she heard Kypers on the steps and, in a panic, hung up to be seated besides the desk when its owner took the opposite chair. The first thing to catch his eyes was the phone. He lifted the receiver to pick up the dial tone before fixing the quaking girl with a cocked eye.
"This phone's connected, didn't you try it?" he demanded as if her answer was a foregone conclusion.
"You told me not to. I'm trying to be obedient." Amaril hated the lie and prayed she showed none of the signs of guilt. She was thankful she no longer blushed as easily as when first captured.
Kypers shrugged and grunted. "I've got me a problem with you two girls," he confided earnestly. "If one girl is good, then two should be better. But it don't work that way. If I'm real mean, I can cure both of you from thinking I'm in love with you. But you're in love with me. This love business is a pain in the ass." He chuckled and winked. "You can take that literally. I sure do love caning your little rump. You're a gal, give me a gal's eye view of where we're at."
"Donna loves you terribly. So send me home and the two of you can be very happy together. You don't need me."
"Who says I don't!"
"You'll get bored with me sooner or later. Karl, I'll admit I've become fond of you but please send me home. Please...."
"Suppose it's Donna I get bored with?"
"You won't! She's an absolute darling."
"Hell, you and me haven't got properly acquainted yet... No way I'm turning you loose."
"If there's punishments you want to subject me to, why not inflict them and get it over with? Then send me home."
"You're a spunky little trick," Kypers conceded with a touch of pride of ownership. "You don't know what you're asking for. You haven't been properly whipped yet. And there's all sorts of tricks with ropes." He allowed the sentence to drift away while viewing his nude prisoner. "Damn it, the way you girls try to mix a man up! Plumb makes me humble."
"What I'm really doing is bargaining for my freedom. I'd suffer a lot of agony to get free."
"No, you won't. You'd be pleading for me to let up on you before we got properly started. Don't ask for punishment, gal, I might just give it to you."
He chuckled for a moment. "I'm still the same bastard I was when they first hauled you on board."
"All right, I know my place. I'll shut up and be a good girl," Amaril retorted flippantly. "Where's Donna?"
"In irons, in the brig."
The quietly spoken words were a shock.
"But what's she done," Amaril asked in surprise. "Are you going to put me in there with her?"
"A gal doesn't have to do anything to get herself in the brig," Kypers said with a chuckle. "You know that as well as I do. What happens to girls aboard this ship happens because I want it to. I figured that Donna might be feeling neglected."
"She makes you mad at her. Oh, Karl, please let her out. She doesn't deserve to be locked in that horrible place."
"She looks damned cute when she's chained up. Want to take a look?"
"You mean we'll both go and gloat at the poor darling?"
"No, not me. You. I'll give you the key to the brig. It won't touch her irons but you can get in and have as good a look as you want. But don't make it too long, I've got something in mind for you."
With the key hot and heavy in her hand, Amaril made another walk into unreality. As she inserted the metal into the huge lock she felt guilt. If the crew were watching they'd think something was wrong. And, anyway, it was she who should be ironed and not the innocent girl she had become fond of. She was almost certain Kypers was watching as she pushed open the impressive slab of metal.
Donna was seated in dejected resignation on the bench. Her eyes opened wide in surprise and pleasure. She leaped to a wrong conclusion. "Amaril, he'll kill you for this. How did you get the key?"
"Kypers gave it to me. He told me to come and see what you look like in irons." Amaril grinned ruefully. "You look positively gorgeous. There's no need to tell me what they feel like, I know."
"He's up to something," Donna asserted. "He wouldn't tell me why I'm in here and wearing this ton of junk. I'd feel easier if we'd been whipped before, the way he promised. He's playing tricks."
"Well, anyway, he's in a good humor. I've been pleading with him to set me free but he absolutely refuses."
Donna stood, bedecked in iron bands and links. Every part of her had been ironed and .chained to the wall, the metal collar around her neck was unnecessarily heavy as was its chain. She displayed, for Amaril's benefit, the shackles by which she was being punished, punished without sin. "I'm glad you think I look nice in all this metal," she said meekly. "I don't feel a bit nice. And this collar around my neck is killing me, its far heavier than the one they used on you. Our lord and master has become mean and unpredictable since he captured you. I think he figures he has to prove himself. Oh, shit! Do you mind if I sit down? These irons aren't as heavy when I sit."
Amaril could not deny the erotic aspect of the picture before her. Links trailed away in all directions. There was chain enough to give her the freedom of her small cell but their weight was a load no girl wished to carry. "Look, why don't you escape with me if we ever get a chance," Amaril urged. "Surely sometime we'll come close enough to land to swim. We can both jump over board."
"They'd launch a boat and catch us. Think how we'd be punished then." Donna grinned up at her fellow captive. "Don't let seeing me like this throw you, sweetheart. It's months since Karl last ironed me in her like this. He's just asserting authority. Slavegirls have to roll with the punches, you know."
"I feel awful seeing you like this and me only handcuffed."
"Don't be silly, darling, I've seen you ironed like this often enough. Let's both work on his majesty to set you free in a nice, civilized fashion. He might just do that after a while, you know. Right now he's got a male Thing about you. He has to wear it out. Let's hope the process doesn't hurt too much. Cheer up, Amaril. Even though this hasn't been one of our best days."
Amaril pursued another concern. "Has it seemed to you that this ship has been going around in circles or just going up and down the coast line? I don't have any feeling of a destination, just of moving."
"Oh, sure, Karl uses it as a floating office. With wireless and the telephone he's as much in touch as on shore and it gets him away from those who want to bug him for money."
Karl Kypers was busy at his desk. He greeted Amaril with a grunt of recognition, tidied some papers, and then, without preamble, grasped a handful of her wrist with one hand while inserting the other between her legs and lifting her with frightening ease high enough to slip the center link of her handcuffs over a hook hanging down from the ceiling. When he lowered his naked girl, Amaril was thankful to discover her feet on the floor, she had feared suspension. She stared at the giant with a question in her eyes but remained silence. Kypers had the air of a man with a notion. Chuckling, he picked up her right foot, twisted several turns of rope around ankle, and knotted it. The rope then passed up to the same hook as her hands. Amaril teetered on one foot while staring at the other which was at her eye level. She was sure this stressful position exposed her pubic patch in a shameful way. Karl Kypers walked studiously around the exposed nudity a couple of times before saying, in obvious approval, "Throw you off balance, honey? You look damned cute."
"I can't stand like this. You've stretched me until it hurts and its beastly indecent. Please let my foot back down?"
"Hell no, I'm enjoying the effect. I've never seen your cunt from this angle. Pity you can't see it too."
"Well, if you won't let it all the way down, at least give me some slack so I can lower it some...." Amaril's request died in her throat as a giant arm encircled her shoulders and a giant hand once again possessed itself of her sex, the huge male paw engulfing her mound, her lips and the soft very private flesh beyond. Kypers lifted her until they were eye to eye. His was peacefully searching her mind while Amaril's was in total surrender. For a few moments while she was thus held, her stretched cleft and wrists felt no pain, only a float of fire within her loins. For the brief time their gaze had locked, the punished girl had read something in Kypers' eyes that told her there would be no escape, no freedom, perhaps forever! In those short seconds she did not mind.
With her feet back on the ground and her wrists again burning from the clutch of steel, Amaril tried to twist and turn for easement but without success. In pure horror she watched Kypers touch the button on the walk and realized that button controlled a pulley over her head, a motorized pulley attached to the hook that she in turn was attached to. Her foot rose another six inches to a height she would have never thought possible, and her wrists were tugged up so much that her free foot could find the floor only with her toes. Balancing became much harder as the stress and pain also increased. He patted her bottom approvingly and went away, closing the door upon a startled girl.
It was bad! Amaril's right leg was high enough to take some of the strain of her weight. But if her other leg left the floor she would hang suspended by her wrists and one roped ankle. That frightened her very much. The steel circlets dug into her wrists, burning the flesh and causing much pain. It would only get much worse if she didn't have the one foot touching the floor. Feverishly she clutched at the rope by which her arms were held high and pathetically sought to lessen the strain of an obscene posture in which she must stand for as long as her master choice. She quickly found that she could move only at the expense of agony in her wrist, so she ceased all movement save for the small jerks and muscle shifting in her free foot as it fought to maintain balance on the ball of a single foot. Everything hurt! Unconsciously the lovely head bowed hopelessly. Miss Amaril Summers wondered if it might not have been better to be whipped.
Suffering alone has its own cruel quality of terror. The wracked girl knew her true enemy was not knowing how long Kypers would force her to remain in this vertical version of the splits. She tried hard not to move, any motion hurt. Miss Amaril Summers reflected bitterly upon the unpredictable behavior of the man she thought of as Master. Donna was heavily ironed in the brig, and she was inflected with an ordeal which, while not truly torture, was a wickedly unkind punishment by any standard. She fought panic with hope, the hope born from a single, quick phone call to her father's office. Surely it was believable, surely they would not consider it the act of a prankster. But she sadly realized the phone call might not mean the freedom she so longed for. Kypers had her, had her good! He would fend off questions or demands. If the Kypers' Queen, it was likely he would simply bind and gag her in some dark place in the hidden places of the ship where none could find her nakedness. If only Kypers had not interrupted the call before she could talk to her father. If only... !
Kypers did not leave her long alone. Amaril's heart leaped in thankfulness when he returned. Instantly he repeated his grasping of her sex in one strong hand and lifting her from the floor. He eyes searched hers.
"Bad?"
She nodded in mute misery. "Bad. Oh, Karl, its worse that bad. Please, oh please let me down. If I've done something wrong please tell me."
Cupping her weight with ease, Kypers began masterful kneading of her sex. Amaril could not resist and probably did not want to. She moaned instantly as nerves tingled and screamed alarms of sexual excitement at her brain. Her sensations were far more acute under the wicked stretching of her body. When Karl Kypers bent to bit her nipple, Miss Amaril Summers knew herself totally his. She belonged to this blonde giant, she had no power to resist. When she was about to enter wonderland, he placed her back on the single foot and once more want away. His closing of the door was his only answer to her pleadings.
It was a bitter disappointment, she felt certain he would free her to take her to the bed where she paid her nightly tribute. But she was hurting too much to bother with reason or logic, or to wonder why Karl Kypers was the man he was. The only thing that mattered to her then was the tight hold of the cords and steel on her limbs. For a long time there would be nothing else in the universe for Miss Amaril Summers, daughter of one of the richest men in the world. Her head sank lower in despair, her breathing becoming more labored with the increasing pain.
It was evening when Karl Kypers set her free with the cheerful admonish to catch herself a bath and then join him for dinner. Amaril could hardly walk.
"Here's to you, sweetheart, you took that better than I thought." Kypers raised his glass to touch hers, declaring, "To a brave little gal who's going to be tortured every day."
"Why, Karl? I don't understand."
"It's what you asked for! Don't you remember? You said for me to punish you all the ways I could think of then send you on your way back to daddy. I'm going to do the first part but I'm not sure about that sending you home to daddy bit. You may be habit forming. It's a chance I'll have to take. Or should I say, you'll have to take."
"I asked for it! But if you give it to me, you'll have to keep your part of the bargain . Oh, Karl, why can't we have Donna with us? Please have her unlocked to come and join us at dinner."
"Maybe I didn't raise that foot high enough, Amaril, my sweet. Remember, don't ever tell me what to do. Donna stays in irons and she's getting bed and water for supper. Might toss in an apple for dessert. Want to know what I've got in store for you tomorrow?"
"No, thank you."
The naked and still handcuffed girl was hungry, she ate steadily while her master mused thoughtfully. "Like I said, you two girls are going to gang up on me. So long as I have you both, I'm going to have to give you a refresher course from time to time. I'd much the best keep you two apart, and punish you separately and alone. And, what's more, I should take you on alternate nights so I can give each of you my full attention. I do enjoy caning your ass. Looking forward to it tonight?"
"Yes." Amaril voiced the simple truth.
"I'll make a slavegirl of you yet. You're still Miss Amaril Summers in your mind. But I'll get rid of that smart-assed young lady and replace her with a maiden who doesn't even think of escape, a girl who thinks only of pleasing me. Think you can make the grade?"
"If you torture me the way you promise, I expect I will. I'm only a girl, you know. But, Karl, there's no need for all this torture and stuff. I'll obey you right now. I'll do whatever you wish. Have you considered how you can get a better slavegirl with honey than vinegar?"
"Get under the table and service me." The demand hit the neophyte slavegirl like a blow. But, without hesitation, Amaril slid to the floor to edge herself towards her shameful task. The agonies of this shameful day were still too fresh to consider disobedience. Miss Amaril Summers was eager to give her master the service he desired.
When it was done she could not meet his eyes but resumed her meal with her thoughts a chaotic jumble. The service she had just performed was not the first time Kypers had compelled her to that act. During other evenings she had been introduced to oral sex upon a man under threat of the whip. Those times she had usually had her hands bound behind her back and she kneeled while he stood before her, legs wide spread and hands on hips. Her bottom had hurt more than usual those nights but she had come to realized how the impossible became easily possible under the influence of the rod. As if to add good measure to an overflowing bowl, she said, with heart-felt sincerity, "Thank you, Master, for allowing me the privilege of servicing you."
It was undoubtedly Karl Kypers' day.
He would always keep them off balance, always keep them uncertain if their master would be cruel or kind. When he was kind, the adored him. When he was cruel they wished only to convert him with their love. Karl Kypers' training was creating for his pleasure a pair of slave maidens par excellence.
Amaril hurt at the junction of her thighs but not enough to dampen her pleasure at being only handcuffed in the usual way. She no longer expected to have free hands, and contrived to do as well with them joined as with them free and separate. It was different with Donna. Donna had spent the night heavily ironed in the brig but showed little signs of the ordeal. Her wrists had been crossed in front and tied tight with nylon cord, and imposition she accepted without complaint. She exhibited her bounds hands to a startled Amaril as evidence she did not care.
Kypers kept his own consul, watching with amusement the bafflement the two maidens who's every existence depended upon his good will. They spoke of ordinary things, ignoring Donna night in irons and Amaril's orgy of lust with the customary caning of her bottom. All was well aboard the Kypers' Queen. If Donna's wrists were crossed and bound unusually tight, it was a small detail not worth mentioning.
"I got things to do," Kypers dismissed his handmaidens with a lordly wave of a hand. "I ought to hang you both up by your thumbs but I won't. Do what you like for the day. If you want me, I'll be in the office. But don't keep bugging me with complaints about wanting your hands loose. You got it good! Enjoy!"
The captive girls did exactly that, wandering the decks at will, talking with any member of the crew who would reply, well aware of the terrible hunger their nakedness imposed upon these males, and getting secret thrills from that knowledge. The eyes of the crew burned with carnal longing as they talked or passed on by.
"I'd almost like to lay down for the poor bastards," Donna admitted without shame. "They want us do damned bad. I'm surprised they don't mutiny and take us away from Karl. I wonder what they would do if we flopped on the deck and spread our legs?"
The mischievous thought was never consummated, the girls were definitely out of bounds, and the crew enjoyed their nakedness. One of them, seeing the laughter in Donna's eyes, said quite frankly, "Sure, I'd love to fuck you, Miss. But there's girls in San Pedro at the end of the voyage. We know who you belong to. Best not forget that yourselves. You're Karl Kypers' property. But, just the same, you've got beautiful breasts, four of the loveliest tits I ever did see."
Once more Amaril sensed the power of her body, sensed the conquests a girl can make by submission. It was a good felling but reduced her status to that of a sexual object, a pretty little slit between her thighs. It was shattering to realize the world saw she and Donna as no more than that. But it still was power and she resolved never to forget that power. One day it might set her free.
Donna refused to have her hands untied. "Don't be silly, darling, there's no use either of us asking for punishment. Seems as if we're in for enough anyway. I've lost my hands before, and those handcuffs don't bother you enough to bother you. Sure, I'd rather be handcuffed than tied with cord, but what the hell!"
The Kypers' Queen cruised slowly within sight of land. The two girls stood at the rail and looked longingly at a promise they could not make real. The distance was far too great to swim, especially for girls with bound hands. Donna shared Amaril's memory of escape into the unknown. Either girl wanted to belong to anyone like Nigel or Mrs. Hampton. If they should, by lucky chance, set foot in US territory, the best they could hope for would be arrest for indecent exposure and illegal entry. Embarrassing as that might be, it was as impossible as to rid their wrists of bonds. But it was pleasant on the deck in the sun with the added thrill of the crew's hunger for their nakedness. Amaril and Donna were prepared to enjoy their day.
"A night in irons in the brig doesn't change a thing for me," Donna admitted. "But it's different with you. If he was that mean to you as you told me, it could be the beginning of a grand finale. He'll expend all his animal maleness on you and, if you're not dead by the time he tires of it, he'll send you home. Is that any comfort?"
Amaril's answer was to excitedly exclaim, "We're heading closer to land! Look, darling, if we get close enough. I'm going to jump! I don't care about what may happen. That business in his office last night was the last straw. Why don't you jump over the rail with me? Half the time there's no one looking. We could be miles away from the Kypers' Queen before anyone misses us." Her voice became rich with longing. "Darling, I wish you would. I don't see why Kypers should own you the way he does, he doesn't deserve you. There's no way he deserves you."
They batted Donna's loyalty to her master back and forth, finding both laughter and tears in their strange condition. Amaril kept pointing out their increasing approach to land. Her previous success in swimming to the beach had emboldened her, if she could do it once, she could do it twice. If only Donna would come too! To step naked upon a beach, handcuffed and alone, may take more courage than she had. But with Donna along... !
Decision was taken from them by the appearance of an angry giant storming from his office down to the deck, his face thundering bolts of anger. "One of you girls got to a phone," he spit out. "Damn it, the only way I'm safe is with you both ironed in the brig. I don't care which of you it was, but you've opened a hornets' nest. There's a pair of US ships due to intercept us within an hour. I just got word about it from my own sources. I'm damned if I'm going to be caught with you two little tricks on board."
He looked from one to the other, his face softening in regret. "You brought this upon yourselves, sweethearts. Let's hope we meet again."
Without another word he picked Amaril up and tossed her over the rail into the Pacific. On her way down she could see a beach not too far off. When she hit the water, her splash was followed by another. A pair of naked girls tread water and watched the Kypers' Queen turn out to sea.
"The son of a bitch!" Donna said loudly. "I wouldn't have believed he would do it. Damn it, Amaril, you got your wish."
The two girls swam. The Kypers' Queen was soon far distant and, like the beach ahead, could be seen only upon the crest of a swell. Young arms, bound but not helpless, drove their naked owners forward with energy.
There might have been sharks but none came near. Occasionally they spared the breath to comment upon their plight and speculate upon their fate. It took an hour's hard pumping to bring them within easy sight of the land. To Amaril there came a terrible feeling. It was not long before they felt sand between their toes and were able to walk out of the water. Both gasped at what they saw.
It was still there, the wicked post Amaril had been bound to in what seemed ages past. Once more they were at low tide and the stark threat of that timber waited as though in a sure knowledge of their return. Amaril gasped, "Oh, no... Oh, no! Oh, jeepers, Donna, we're back to square one!"
Breathless they sat upon the sand to allow the sun to dry them out. They ignored the wicked post. The cords binding Donna's wrists proved impossible for Amaril to unknot.
"Don't let's waste time trying to get me free. It's not as if they were behind my back. We're neither of us completely helpless. The thing is, what do we do now? There's no way I want to go up to that Clifton place and those two screwballs."
The naked girls knew themselves in full view of the house as they trudged across the sand in their chosen direction. Some one must eventually see them, and it was a fifty-fifty chance of their being treated with kindness or cruelty. But each girl knew their nakedness would condemn them as harlots in the eyes of the local population. What they needed most was an automobile and a man in a business suit. Rounding the first headland they came upon a paved road.
"We can't wander around the Mexican jungle with our hands fastened," Amaril said. "Come on, darling, let's follow the road and take a chance."
The cars were few, ancient for the most part or, if not so old, banged and battered and running on their last legs. The occupants eyed the naked girls askance and trod heavily on the gas to flee the scene.
"At least they don't rape us," Donna said. "I suppose from their point of view we are strange. They probably don't know what to do with us."
"What we need is covering. We can't buy so we'll have to steal. What we need is washing on someone's line."
The cars had all been going in one direction. But now the two girls sighted a vehicle bearing down upon them from the other sided of the road. Their hearts beat faster when they discerned it's occupants as a pair of formally clad civilians. The car drew level and stopped, its passengers getting out, obviously interested. Volleys of Spanish beat upon the defenseless girls, there was much waving of arms. It was not until Amaril timidly asked, "Doesn't one of you speak English?" that the identification was produced and the well-dressed pair took on their proper guise as detective sergeants attached to the police force of the town of San Miguel.
* * *
Captain Salazar, the senior of San Miguel's police was enjoying himself. The two young women facing him across the wooden desk failed to share his pleasure. From the point of view of Amaril Summers and Donna Martine, the Captain had but one virtue, he spoke excellent English, which he was using now to placate American indignation.
"You walk in the sunlight on our highway without clothes. You cannot blame my officers for performing with you the act of love."
He was explaining in puzzlement. "Did they not give you much pleasure? Was their performance not what you expected?"
"I expect they meant well," Amaril said resignedly. "May I use you phone?"
"It is forbidden."
"My father is Preston Summers, he will make you rich if you will return us to him. I will reverse the call."
"The daughter of so great a man would not walk naked upon the street. Please to tell the truth."
Amaril sighed hopelessly. The truth was far worse than any fiction but she had to try. "You can easily check my story. I will give you the phone number of my father's office. Please do this for us." Captain Salazar fixed Donna with an inquiring eye. "And you, senorita, are no doubt the daughter of the President of the United States?" His voice was bland, he held the cards.
"Would you be kind enough to free our hands, there is no need to keep us like this?" Amaril held up her hands in full view. "I'm sure you have a key."
"That, too, is forbidden."
"Then how about something to cover us? We don't enjoy being naked, it wasn't our idea."
"There will be no sheet, you are decorative as you are. I compliment you both on your loveliness. I am sure you gave my men much pleasure, a pleasure I intend to share." The captain beamed in pure enjoyment of four breasts visible above the table and what he knew was hidden out of sight.
"If you will not allow me the use of the phone, what do you intend to do with us?"
It was easy to tell this was the nitty-gritty. The captain had been waiting to get around to this. He fixed Amaril with a firm stare. "You will be charged with illegal entry, indecent exposure, and the attempted seduction of members of this force," he proclaimed grandly. Then his tone softened to add, "You are also the young woman Senora Hampton and Mr. Asbury have been searching for. You departed from their home with costly jewelry."
"That's a lie! They were holding me prisoner, I escaped." Officialdom appeared bland but thoughtful. "You cannot expect less than fifteen years in one of our prisons, senorita. You companion would, of course, be sentenced right along with you. No doubt she is equally guilty."
Amaril knew pure animal fear. A net had closed around both she and Donna, a net soon to be steel bars and stone walls. This man would never phone her father. It would please him to keep them both behind prison bars. Desperately she asked, "Aren't we to be tried? I demand a lawyer, it is our right!"
"You have been tried and found guilty, senorita. It is done." The words spelt doom. Donna quietly asked, "Where is the prison in which we will serve this sentence?"
"Why, her in San Miguel, of course! Where else!" Captain Salazar beamed at the girls. "I will be most humane, you may remain together, naked as you are now, and with your hands as they are fastened now. You will be available for the pleasure of my staff and myself. Discipline will be maintained with a leather strap and a length of cane. This building possesses and isolation cell where you will not be seen or heard."
"But... But... that's cruelty!"
"Not at all, senorita, you will be well-fed, well-housed, and most adequately entertained. I will, moreover, assure an adequate supply of the pill to relieve anxiety. We men of San Miguel are most potent." It was a good line, deserving laughter, but neither girl was in the mood for merriment. Donna twisted at bound wrists to demand, "Look, Captain, this stuff I'm tied with hurts. It's been soaked in water and it's shrunk. If you must rob me of my hands, couldn't you at least use handcuffs?"
"It shall be done," the captain declared. "It pleases my sense of what is proper that you both remain chained with perhaps the addition of certain refrainments. We will discuss these when the time comes. By the way, for you're reassurance, it will be a woman who attends you in your cell. It is my wish to keep you happy."
The two girls looked at each other not knowing what to say. Anything they could say would carry no weight, the captain made his own law. In the utter fear of the prospect of the future, Amaril pleaded, "Should you not return us to Clifton? I'm am quite sure Mrs. Hampton will value the privilege with our bodies you so desire. Would not justice not be best served by sending me back where I belong?"
"Perhaps, in due time, a few years, senorita. Not now." The captain touched a button on his desk. "From now on I must ask you to cease your pleading and the implied threats about your father. If you do not, you will be whipped. And I should tell you that Juanita has the authority to whip you as required." His smile was pure benevolence. "We will make you into model prisoners, the envy and pride of all in San Miguel."
Amaril bit back her angry words. For the moment they were this man's prisoner to do with as he wished. Their only hope for the future lay in whatever memory Karl Kypers held of them to spark desire for their recovery. Perhaps there could even be hope of rescue from her father. After all, her phone call had at least alerted him to where she was in general. It was vague but perhaps enough. Anxious to avoid punishment she said quietly, "We must obey you, Senor, we will do our best not to earn punishments." Pathetically she added, "Please be merciful."
Juanita's knowledge of English was sparse but graphic. "You be good girls. You do what I say. If you are bad, I whip. I whip very hard." She paused for effect. "When men come for fuck you it is best to be most polite. If you do not please, that also is for whipping. Please to follow me."
There was corridors after corridors. The isolation cell was indeed exactly that, far from the rest of the building. But it was large and well lit by a barred window giving a view of what appeared to be a barracks square. Certainly no chance of escape there. Amaril stood in a claustrophobic horror of iron bars and stone walls while Juanita cut the cords from Donna's wrists. They were replaced immediately with shinning chrome handcuffs.
"I get you other things," she promised vaguely. "You may call me Juanita. If you offer bribes, I whip. " She left her two charges standing in the middle of the floor, and slammed and locked the door with the air of a woman with better things to do.
Amaril took Donna's chaffed wrists and massaged them. The cord had left deep red marks in skin. The gleaming steel of the handcuffs could be moved up and down just enough to permit this attention. Donna sighed. "Well, at least I got rid of that damned cord, it was hurting. Karl never handcuffed me much, so this is something new. They're sort of cute."
"Except they tell the whole world we're criminals to be returned to the police," Amaril said dismally. She looked around at their stone and iron prison. "So, what do we do now!"
The captain was the first. He tossed a coin to show complete impartiality before ravishing Amaril with great vigor and much sweat, while Donna looked out the window with much disgust.
This first day of imprisonment for Miss Amaril Summers and Miss Donna Martine was filled with visits from male members of the San Miguel Police Department. Sometimes there were two coming at the same time, thus eliminating the need for the one girl to look out the window while her companion "enjoyed" the attentions of another nameless man. At approximately five PM the carnal traffic ceased and Juanita produced leg irons by which she linked Amaril's left ankle to Donna's right. She led them, stumbling over their chain, to a dismal bathhouse where she hosed them down, ordered them to soap with particular attention to their pubic hair, then hosed them down again. She did allow them to wash their hair, even producing a couple of cheap combs. Back in their cell, Juanita told them, with real sincerity, "You very lucky girls. The men all say you very good screw. Soon I bring you supper." She always slammed the cell door with unnecessary noise.
"She really meant what she said about us being lucky." Donna mused as the used the comb on her damp hair. "Are we lucky? It's a point of view I hadn't thought of."
"I suppose it's better than being tortured," Amaril observed sagely. "I guess if I were offered a choice of fifty strokes of the whip or having to put up with what we had today, I'd just lay down and spread my legs. I feel so damned ashamed."
"I think grandpa would have felt we should have fought and made them knock us about a bit before we spread our legs." Donna giggled. "According to the fiction of his day, we should both be dead. I don't know what of but I suppose we could call it an overdose. Oh, Amaril, this is awful, talking about it like this." She grinned ruefully at Amaril. "What will you bet that tomorrow that we're not visited by the city council?"
"We made out today, we survived. But you're right. There will be tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. And before too long we'll be glad to see them come, just to fight off the boredom of this beastly cell. I can also see us using our female allure of the sons of bitches to try and earn some privileges. Maybe we could persuade one of them to bring us a candy bar or a tooth brush."
"Oh, shit! That woman's forgotten to take this leg-iron thing off our ankles!" Donna kicked the offending chain angrily. "Doesn't matter much, I guess, but we'll have to remember we're attached. Oh, Amaril, this whole thing is for the birds!"
Supper was the traditional bread and water with the luxury of a few figs. As day waned they sought comfort in each other's arms. Handcuffed wrists imposed a difficult entanglement but they did their best, finding in the heat of each other's nakedness the only comfort in this new life possible. It was while they were thus engaged they heard and unusual sound and turned towards the bars.
Peering at them approvingly through the metal bars was the pert, bright eyes of Mrs. Elizabeth Hampton.
CHAPTER SIX - PRISONS
Flushed and fumbling awkwardly, the two girls disengaged beneath a pair of sharp, shrewd old eyes. "I hope you two were not doing something nasty."
Embarrassed and surprised, Amaril took refuge in the conventional. "Why, hello Mrs. Hampton! Fancy see you here!"
"Nothing remarkable it, you belong to me. I've come to look at my property. Introduce me to your friend."
As Amaril's lips uttered mechanical words, her mind was hard at work. Clifton, with all its faults, was better than the San Miguel jail house. They had best endeavor to get back there, even as prisoners. Sweetly she asked, "Please take us home with you, Mrs. Hampton, we'd be ever so grateful. I've been telling Donna about your lovely home."
"Ha! Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, would it? You little so and so. Do you realize you went away without my permission? With even a civil goodbye. I presume it was this young woman who set you free from the post? I am sorely vexed with you both. Captain Salazar has consented to have you both whipped on my behalf. He is such a nice man, so kind."
"But Donna saved my life... The tide was coming in...."
"Nonsense. You were in no danger. Nigel was watching through binoculars and was prepared to release you when the water rose a little higher. It would appear this young woman cut you loose while he was in the bathroom. Really!"
"But we don't deserve to be punished, Mrs. Hampton. Please tell the Captain not to whip us. It hurts a girl so terribly when she's whipped."
The old lady snorted. "How would you know! You've never had a proper whipping. It will do you good so don't mention it again. You've been a very naught girl. You both have."
"If we're whipped the way you want here, will you take us back to Clifton?"
"Are you trying to bargain, girl?"
"No, of course not! It's just I want you to know I appreciate your kindness. And your house is such a lovely place to live. I don't suppose you would be willing to set us free?"
"Of course not! You will never be set free, you will both remain a prisoner here or at Clifton the rest of your lives. You know that, don't argue. Oh, and by the way, that father of yours has gotten wind of your presence down here somehow. He's got men running all over the place looking for you, and ships going up and down the coast. I was even visited and questioned. Such effrontery! I felt like sending a message to tell him you are only a girl and not worth all this commotion."
"I expect you're right, Mrs. Hampton," Amaril confessed. "Do you think you could persuaded the Captain to take these things off our wrists and ankles?"
"Certainly not. I told you long ago girls should always be handcuffed. Really, my dear, you're being very trying."
"I'm sorry but this is such a grim place, and we're both frightened. We don't seem to have much to look forward to except a life time's imprisonment. And we haven't done anything!"
"You're a girl, aren't you? That's enough. You really should try and accept your sentences gracefully, dear. There are certain things a girl should reconcile herself to."
"But I'll bet you weren't whipped and put in prison when you were my age!"
"Perhaps not. " Mrs. Hampton's tone had become sharply disapproving. "I was born into the upper classes, the Hampton's have always been extremely wealthy." She gave her now familiar snort. "Thinking back, I'm not a bit sure I would not have envied you the fun you're having now.
"Oh, by the way, I arranged for Nigel to visit you for sexual congress whenever he wishes. I want you both to accommodate him with good grace. The poor boy is using Lola at the present time, but I don't approve of undue familiarity with the staff."
"If you had us both at Clifton, he wouldn't have to bother to come here." Amaril heard her voice as the honeyed words of whoredom. "And as for being rich, my father's one of the richest men in the world but it doesn't seem to be doing me any good."
"You are being impertinent, dear. I will ask Captain Salazar to have the whip applied upon your back with extra hard strokes. Really...!"
Mrs. Hampton went as silently as she had come.
"Are you sure we'd be any better at Clifton than here? I'm not too fond of that old bitty," Donna said bitterly.
"We'd never have gotten ourselves whipped if she hadn't shown up. Do you think we could talk the Captain out of it? After all he is screwing us."
For Amaril the chained imprisonment was doubly frustrating. That a man of the wealth of Preston Summers should be unable to locate a lost daughter seemed ridiculous. Yet, as she surveyed her three captivities she realized only this last one in San Miguel might shed clues for those searching for her. She certainly hoped so! Her father was a resourceful man who surely could pry the truth from someone by threats or bribes. The peasants they had seen on the highway would surely respond to offers of a large reward! On the other hand they might fear the authority of Captain Salazar. It all seemed hopeless. It rapidly became useless to even think about. They had no way of telling what was happening. It became useless to torture herself with thoughts of release and freedom. Miss Amaril Summers, with her hands chained and herself securely locked in a prison cell, was even farther from going home than ever.
Morning brought the bread and water breakfast and something even less attractive. When Juanita proudly produced a second set of leg irons, the two girls groaned, but not too loudly. Juanita worked the old and new pairs until each girl had her ankles shackled by a chain only three feet long. "Is plenty of chain for you to dance," Juanita laughed as if telling a joke. "But if you run, you trip and fall on face. Best you don't run."
"Where are you suggesting we could run to?" Donna asked sarcastically. "These things on our ankles are just there to be mean. They'll make the damndest noise on our ankles when we walk around." The leg irons were not all. Juanita produced a pair of quite handsome leather collars studded with silver. Amaril endured the tilting of her chin for the unkind circlet to be fitted around her neck. The padlock snapped and there was no way of getting it off without a key.
"What's the sense of putting these things on our necks?" Donna asked as she, too, accepted the heavy leather bands. "It's just to break us down, isn't it? Just to tell us twice over we're prisoners?"
"Maybe you bad girl and get chained to wall," Juanita explained. "Or if you run away, everyone know where you come from. Collar cannot cut with knife."
It was one more cross to bear, one more shame to carry night and day. The two girls figured their new restraints in diminishing hopes. It was a poor way to start their second day as prisoners of San Miguel. They tried to joke about the length of chain between their feet which sent a swirl of links with every step they took, wondering what male visitors might say. But they knew the sexual act could be consummated as easily with feet chained as when they'd been free. The chains were symbolic, no doubt satisfying someone's idea of what was proper for a naked girl. By the time Juanita brought their bread and water not a single man had shown his face or tested out their irons. It was early afternoon when they were summoned to the captain's office.
Their journey through the corridors was pure shame as the chain of their leg irons rattled and sang its metallic song upon the floor. They constantly tripped and wondered if they would ever learn to walk gracefully. They stood before Captain Salazar in sad humility, the chains and collar had subdued them both.
The captain was his usual suave self, his eyes bright in admiration. "I must compliment you ladies on your new adornments, they make you ever so much more beautiful," he assured them gravely. "Please not to sit but to stand before me as you are so that I may enjoy what should not be hidden. I suppose Mrs. Hampton told you of her wish? To have you whipped?"
"Yes." It was a dismal affirmative indeed.
"I'm giving some thought as to how and when this should be done to you. Have you any ideas?"
"Since I am to be whipped anyway," I will ask you again to contact my father and receive the million dollars he will pay for me. Please be merciful and do this for me?"
"Ah, so! You should remember, Miss Summers, a young lady can be whipped twice for separate offenses."
"Very well then, whip me twice. But call my father. A million dollars must mean a great deal to you."
Captain Salazar beamed a smile of a man showered with good fortune. "Indeed yes, Miss Summers, a million dollars is a vast sum for a humble Captain of Police. But it is less than is offered by another source. I have received hints that the sum of two million dollars is awaiting the safe return of both of you."
Amaril stared at him. Surely the residents of Clifton could not value her at such a price. "I do not understand," she stammered. "You must be joking."
"No joke. There is a certain Senor Kypers... Perhaps the name if familiar?"
It was the sort of capricious act Karl Kypers might enjoy. His wealth was power and he loved using it. Amaril could believe he had thrown them both overboard with reluctance but with a shrewd knowledge of where he might make a recovery. For a moment the familiar heat was within her loins until she remembered the ordeal of the raised leg and their day standing trussed to the rigging! No, Clifton was still their best bet if they could not go home.
"Yes," she acknowledged weakly, "we know Karl Kypers, he owned us once and I supposed wishes to own us again. Are you accepting his offer?"
"It is a lot of money, senorita, but it is possible that sweet little old lady, Mrs. Hampton, may offer more. You are both in much demand." The captain effected a deep sigh. "I wish I could afford you myself, you are both of superior quality. I had intended to fuck you again myself today but have been too involved with business. Perhaps later. Perhaps after you have been whipped."
She was not sure of him. There was an evasive quality about Captain Salazar hard to name. But, astonished by the news, the chained girl demanded, without thought of punishment, "Are you peddling us around the country, Captain? If you are willing to negotiate with Mrs.
Hampton, then why not with my father? I believe he has more money than either of the other two."
"His is also very powerful with much influence. I would not relish his anger. But the Senor Kypers or the so charming Mrs. Hampton... Ah, that is different!"
"You do intend to sell us then?"
"It was not my original thought, senorita, but I am overwhelmed by the generosity of those who desire to possess your body. I am only human."
It was absurd and outrageous, but Amaril was aware of a growing excitement and the generation of familiar heat. She guessed Donna would sooner return to the Kypers' Queen. But her own choice was Clifton. At least she hadn't been hurt too much. At least not by the new standards her life was forced to run under. If she would obey and be a good slavegirl... At least there her sex would be the guest of but one man, Nigel Asbury. While here in San Miguel she beheld the promise of becoming the town whore without reward. There was a female part of her desiring Karl Kypers' strength and sexual potency. But he could be cruel and was unpredictable.
In a calm tone she pleaded, "Please sell me to Mrs. Hampton, I would be most grateful."
"You have nothing to say about your next position, Miss Summers." The Captain was enjoying his omnipotence. "But Mr. Asbury is visiting this afternoon to enjoy your body. He has expressed a wish to witness your whipping and to have congress with you afterwards with you laying upon your punished back. He tells me the effect of sure a combination is unique. I will endeavor to make the effort to explore his theory upon Miss Donna Martine." Captain Salazar beamed his benevolence upon them. "You will both soon be taken to place where you will be whipped. I am sure you will endure the ordeal with fine sangfroid. Will you join me in a sherry. Please do be seated now with your chains facing me and your legs well apart, I do not wish to waste one bit of your charms." Amaril fought to control the bitter words raising to her throat. Captain was about to become a wealthy man while she and Donna were soon to be whipped on their naked skin. She gulped down the offered sherry and asked boldly for another. He smiled knowingly and refilled her glass before blandly suggesting, "The senora Asbury can make his carnal experiment upon one girl, he does not need two." His eyes remained upon Amaril. "I believe him fond of you, senorita, I suspect he would happily explore the responsiveness of a whipped girl with Miss Martine. Mr. Asbury is a most reasonable man and thus only one of you would suffer?"
"All right, I'll do it," Donna said forcibly. "At least you'll get home free, Amaril. There's no need us both getting our backs cut up."
"I'm not going to ask such a thing of Nigel. I absolutely won't. This whole thing's crazy," Amaril said with considerable feeling.
"It is a most painful thing for a young lady to be whipped, senorita."
"I'm had some small experience. I would willing offer myself to be whipped or to be whipped twice if only you would allow me to phone my father." Amaril was breathing heavily. "I know I have nothing to say about anything but that's the way I feel."
Captain Salazar nodded thoughtfully. "It does occur to me, ladies, that in the normal course of my duties I would not be ordering you whipped. You have given me no reason to do so. It is the good Mrs. Hampton who believes you deserve such a marking of your skin." He paused to gaze from one to the other and to pour more sherry. "Since the senora Asbury will be present to witness your... shall we say discomfort, I suggest you discuss this whole matter with him and allow him to decide. He has Mrs. Hampton's confidence and would, I'm sure, make a wise decision. I would appreciate if you were to encourage him to make a substantial bid should he wish to own you."
Amaril raised linked hands holding the refilled glass. "You may rely upon it, Captain," she said disgustedly then drank it down.
The two girls were made to wait. Amaril reflected that to stand nakedly helpless reflecting upon what was to come was in its own way a part of being whipped. It was that way now, a simple bare stone room, each girl with her handcuffs attached to a chain well above her head and her feet fastened well to each side. They were wickedly exposed and no doubt Mrs. Hampton would approve. When Nigel finally appeared, he stood as if in awe and exclaimed, "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! You are both too beautiful for words. I see they have collared you. Every girl should be collared, it adds a nice touch and a promise of things to come. I trust you are ready to be whipped?"
"No, we are not. But go ahead anyway."
"Grandma sends her apologies. She desires you whipped but is indisposed to watch. I take her place."
"And fuck us afterwards, so I'm told."
"Of course, what else! You really have been a tiresome pair, causing everyone trouble. How many strokes has the Captain ordered for you?"
"We don't know. He said you could run the show. Oh, Nigel, do you have to have us whipped? Captain Salazar's not concerned and if you want to be merciful and let us off, I don't think anyone will complain. Please be a good guy. Please...?"
"Sorry, ladies, she'll want to see the marks on your skin."
"She won't unless she buys us. I suppose you know we're up for sale. Oh, Nigel, please buy me and get me out of here. Donna wants to go back to the Kypers' Queen. I'm sure you can arrange that, too. Oh, please, please, please!"
Nigel took a stroll around both strung out beauties, patting a bottom or breast as he desired. "What was the last bid?" he inquired. "The Captain says two million dollars."
"From Mr. Kypers, I believe. It's asking a lot of Grandma to go that high."
"She would if you ask. Please get us out of here." Her nakedness and the threat of the was pushing her closer to panic.
"Look at me, Nigel. You can have me and use me any way you want. Then you can arrange for Donna's return to Kypers. And last of all you can arrange for me to phone my father. He'll pay you back the money. Daddy will, I know. He can top any bid anyone makes. Captain Salazar is scared of him in a way you need not be. Please don't let us be whipped."
There was no reading Nigel's mind. But suddenly she was in his arms, Nigel was holding her very tight indeed and the chained girl was straining her nakedness against him until the cuffs cut her wrists. When she thought she had the battle won, he whispered softly in her ear, "Sorry, love, but you're in for it. You get the works. But its only a whipping, don't take it too hard, it will do you good."
Donna received a kiss. Then, as an afterthought, Nigel bent and bit her nipples, one by one, until Juanita came. Donna stirred restlessly as he did but made no protest. She watched him leave her side to take up his stance to one side. There was no emotion in his voice.
"You may now whip them, Juanita. Whip them hard."
"I whip you back and forth, one stroke at a time," Juanita explained helpfully. "It is much the kindest way."
Amaril remembered being triced up to the rigging, it seemed such a little while ago. And the mark of that one single, terrible stroke was still upon her flesh. Juanita admired it and placed another besides it. For Miss Amaril Summers the world exploded into pain.
Juanita was highly skilled. She was impartial and made certain each girl received exactly the same as her companion. She also ignored their pleas and screams. And they did scream and plea and moan. And beg for the pain to end. Both knew it would not end, not for a long, long time.
There is no true criteria for the whipping of a girl, so much depends upon the girl, her owner, and the nature of the whip. As the leather thong cut and slashed at her from every angle, Amaril ceased to care, seeing herself only as a prisoner for life for whom this agony would recur to relieve the boredom of her cell. She had read of those who came to love the whip and those who wielded it in a strange way. To be totally owned as she was now meant relief from all decisions and a continual sexual excitation. As the leather thong bit her back and bottom again and again, she was well aware of the heat in her pussy and the juices flowing there. Miss Amaril Summers wished she had been born a man.
"Half time!" That from Nigel. The whipping stopped. Juanita drank deeply from a pitcher of water she had brought. Then she offered it to each girl.
"Juanita not want to do this," she said. "It is orders."
Once again Nigel's arms were around Amaril's nudity and they were thrusting at each other shamelessly. His male strength and male scent was comforting. A girl was suppose to have a man to look after her. In this strange way she was in love with him. She should have hated him but she loved him instead! And was grateful for the arms and lips and male smell, for the moment it filled her world and keep the fire on her back and bottom at bay. It was there but did not feel so bad. All she remembered saying was an insistent, "Buy me, Nigel, buy me, buy me!"
Then he was gone and Juanita once more began to mark the flesh of her back and the soft rounds below. When the whip cut at a hip Miss Amaril Summers screamed again. The handcuffs held against her jerkings.
When the last stroke had bit savagely across bare skin, Nigel carried her back to the cell and ravished her with vigor. He was rewarded by her cries and thrustings as he pressed whipped skin hard against the bench. It was a most successful union.
Nigel's experiment was repeated with Donna. Donna had been compelled to walk the shameful corridors to the tune of the clink and rattle of her chains. Juanita had restrained her long enough for Amaril to receive the onslaught of the rather homy Nigel. By the strange chemistry governing eroticism, Nigel was more than ready for Donna when she arrived.
"Okay, okay, don't worry, I'll lay on my whipped back," Donna said, "and let you have your fun."
It was a most successful afternoon.
The next day two well whipped maidens were sold from the jail of San Miguel to Clifton for the sum of two and a half million dollars, American. Delivery of two naked girls was casual, they might have been sacks of potatoes. Each was hoisted into the back of a covered truck and their handcuffed arms bound tight to one of the struts. Amaril had little doubt the discomfort was all a part of conditioning for their new captivity. Captain Salazar wished the purchasers of his merchandise to received submissive young females anxious to please. When Lola accepted delivery, they were exactly that.
"Just in time for tea, darlings," Elizabeth Hampton chirped. She seemed remarkably happy for a woman who had just parted with a great deal of money for a couple of girls. She eyed them both and demanded, "Turn around now and let me look at your backs. I wanted you properly whipped and I hope that nice Captain Salazar has done a good job on you."
The girls turned to exhibit their wounds. Previously examining each other in their cell they had considered them serious. But Mrs. Hampton was inclined to be critical. "I suppose its good enough to teach you a lesson," she conceded. "But it evidently was not the proper whip. Those marks will be healed in two or three weeks. But never mind. Now that I have you back you can be whipped any time I think you need it. Isn't that lovely? I'm so happy."
In a burst of generosity, the jail of San Miguel had donated the collars padlocked upon slender necks and the leg irons upon slender ankles. The two girls stood before they owner reflecting upon how little difference there was between Mrs. Hampton and Captain Salazar. Either way they were captive and helpless to capricious discipline.
As a good will offering, Amaril said quietly, "Thank you for buying us, Mrs. Hampton, we're both terribly grateful."
Elizabeth Hampton was pleased, this was undoubtedly her day. She had recovered not one but two beautiful young women who would do her bidding as desired. Shrewdly she calculated upon selling one of them to that strange Mr. Kypers for a great deal of money. She hoped, with equal shrewdness, he would not demand them both. It would be too awful to part with darling Amaril. It had been so lonely after Amaril's escape from the post. She was glad Amaril had been properly whipped, perhaps it would encourage her not to try such tricks again. Perhaps quite soon she could be whipped once more for special emphasis.
"We wish to please you, Mrs. Hampton," Amaril ventured. "If you tell us what to do, we'll be very obedient."
"Drink your tea, dear, Nigel's waiting and wants you in the bedroom. But he can wait, these young men can be so impatient. Honestly, I probably wouldn't bother with him if her wasn't all I've got. If I decide to marry you off to Nigel, you'll be such a lucky girl. You'll be so rich, and he'll make you happy with that enormous thing of his between his legs. Really, I do think young people are absurd."
The tea was good and so were the cakes and sandwiches. After the cell in San Miguel this was paradise. Amaril applauded herself for shrewdly contriving to get them into the right place. Everyone was going to be happy except she and Donna. She had a strong feeling Karl Kypers might be whip-happy when he got his darling back in irons. Whatever its strangeness, Clifton seemed her best bet. Striving to be one jump ahead, she inquired, after finishing her tea and sandwiches, "Would you like me to go to Nigel now, Mrs. Hampton? I wouldn't want him to think me unwilling."
"Boy, have you made the old girl happy!" Nigel bubbled in the lovely bedroom Amaril supposed she could call her own. "She wants to marry the two of us off together after she'd you whipped a few more times and properly trained. That's the word she uses, trained. She really is an absolute scream. But she wrote the check for you two without the quiver of an eyelash. Now I've got you but good!"
He allowed the pause to lengthen before uttering the simple, "Happy?"
Such a small word which meant so much! Amaril knew she was happy within the context of having achieved one half of her goal. But Nigel must not know this limitation, she must be seemingly happy without reserve while in his presence or that of his grandmother. She had best watch her Ps and Qs while conniving to use a telephone. If only she could make that one impossible call this whole chimera of punishment and lust would vanish into limbo. Was it too much to ask of Fate? Was it?
"I owe you a lot, Nigel," she said demurely. "I want to please you. Tell me what to do."
They did the things which pleased Mr. Nigel Asbury for quite a long time until the call for dinner.
"Captain Salazar has impeccable tastes," Elizabeth Hampton said as she began the most important meal of their day. "Those leg irons and those collars are most effective, they set a girl off in a way I would never have dreamed. The dear man was kind enough to make a gift of them when he sold you both back to me. " She beamed. "Are your backs hurting? I do hope they are, a little such pain would be so beneficial for you both."
Amaril hide the fact that the euphoria she was feeling at being back at Clifton and away from the prison was at about fifty percent. On the strength of it she ventured, "We don't understand the collars, Mrs. Hampton, they're awfully hot and uncomfortable and we can't get them off. Do they serve a useful purpose?"
"Of course they do, dear, you're so delightfully naive. With those collars around your necks I can attach you at anytime to almost anything. It's such a convenience," she assured. "I can lock you in the bedroom or basement and feel quite certain you'll still be there when I need you. I'm sure you understand."
Amaril understood. She let that one drop.
"We're wondering about our chained feet," she explained patiently. "We're not going to run away, it's not a good idea while you keep us naked and handcuffed. But these leg irons make it difficult to walk properly, we keep tripping. Would you care to take them off?"
"No, dear, absolutely not."
That was that. Amaril had not expected much else. Elizabeth Hampton would cherish her two treasures with every power at her command. Changing direction, she asked, "I expect you're talking to Mr. Kypers about Donna. Dear Donna would be happy with whatever you decide. She's like me, she's been well whipped and knows her place. But she really would like to be sent back to the Kypers' Queen. You would still have me and I promise I would try my best to be everything you desire."
"What about me?" Nigel demanded across the table. "Particularly you, Nigel, you've been so sweet to me. Your idea about laying with a whipped back on a hard bench while you made love to me was so wonderful. You know so many things. I'm a lucky girl for you to have me."
Amaril wondered at her owns ability to lie. She was spreading the bullshit all over the place in a manner calculated to deserve a whipping more than any previous behavior. She had to wonder why the grandmother and her grandson did not detect her lies as such. It should have been evident to both but seemingly was not. They lapped up her docility in a manner almost nauseating. She pressed home what seemed an advantage. "I love these bonds you place upon me," she assured outrageously. "Please keep me chained and collared as you wish, it's such a comfort to a girl to be so desired. Thank you for taking us both from San Miguel."
"San Miguel was good for both of you," said Elizabeth Hampton sagely. "Perhaps we should have left you there longer. Captain Salazar seems to have all the right ideas about you young girls. I must admit I'm a bit out of touch. Have you ever suffered the whipping of the soles of your feet?"
"I say, isn't that a bit extreme!" Nigel interjected.
"Not at all, dear boy. Girls must be taught their lessons by every means. The use of rope or cord upon them has its own points and advantages. But in the end it is the application of rods and whips and straps upon their flesh which trains them. I am by no means persuaded these young women are as anxious to please me as they say, I am inclined to believe that in the whip lies truth rather than that cliche, 'In vino veritas. What do you say we have them whipped again while the weals are fresh upon their skin?"
"Not as far as I'm concerned, Grandma," Nigel said with certainty. "Let's give the little darlings a chance to behave, if they fail we can always whip them then."
"You are so very wise, dear boy, you understand the psyche of a young woman so well. You are so thoughtful and so kind. For this evening for until bed time I will be content to impose a correction upon these two delightful young women of suspension by their thumbs. They are subservient now, think what they will be then!"
Amaril was ashamed. The nauseating exchange of compliments had done no good. She and Donna were prisoners beneath an iron heel. She felt guilt at what Donna must be thinking at these promises of punishment. Their only hope was Nigel who's main interest in girls was their natural function. Gratefully she heard him say, "They've had a bad couple of days. Shouldn't be go easy on them for now? I'm not a bit sure about the thumb business, it's pretty damned rough."
"They're young and healthy, dear boy. When they have suffered this little notion of mine you can take them to bed for the night. Just make sure you give them no chance to escape."
Nigel caught Amaril's eye. He shrugged but said no more. The two girls exchanged glances of dismay. Elizabeth Hampton had evidently been more angered by Amaril's escape than she professed. This talk of punishments was terrible.
"I'll have Lola suspend you, dears, and I do trust you will help her. If you prefer to make a fuss, I can have Juan and Manuel take care of you."
Amaril considered kneeling and begging for mercy. She could only vaguely conceive what suspension by her thumbs would be like but knew it had to be terrible, but in this new captivity she wanted desperately to please and return to her former status of trust. Mechanically she retorted, "Of course we'll be helpful and obedient, we promised we would. We wouldn't dream of fighting with Lola."
They were given no chance to fight with anyone. Amaril was first, being gently positioned beneath the trapeze to have her ankles bound tight with a couple of quick turns of rope before her hands were freed. It should have been a wonder moment to have her hands free but the moment was spoiled as the trapeze lowered before her eyes. The bar was long enough to spread her arms well apart. From each end was hanging the soft leather noose by which she would be taught a lesson Mrs. Hampton believed she needed. Even though her hands were freed, a single handcuff dangled from one wrist, interfering with nothing but ready for use when needed. To the naked girl it seemed a symbol of her life. It was difficult to think of herself without joined hands. In fearful fascination Donna watched, knowing her turn would come.
"Please to put the small thumbs in the loops, senorita, while I hold steady the bar." Lola was cheerful, but then she wasn't the one getting herself tortured. "I am sorry," she continued, "but this is something I must do."
Disgustedly Amaril obeyed. Lola positioned the small loops behind the knuckles and tightened them down. Amaril watched her own hands and arms rise up by her face until she was tightly stretched. Lola once more checked each loop for proper positioning. Suddenly the daughter of Preston Summers gasped in shock as she was raised to tip toes and then lifted completely from the floor. Lola thoughtfully removed the rope from her ankles then informed Donna, "And now, senorita, it is you turn. Please to obey."
Amaril moaned steadily.
CHAPTER SEVEN - AN ANCIENT TORTURE
During the preparations for her punishment Amaril told herself she would not do any of those things she knew she would when punishment started. Not to scream, not to plead, not to vow she could not possibly bare the pain - these things would do no good and would only shame her in memory. Instead she contented herself with moans and little sounds of distress. She had to do something, there was easement in the small, sad sounds she permitted to leave her lips. The punishment of suspension by her thumbs was a new dimension in agony, utterly demoralizing, utterly fearful by the suspended girl's certainty that her thumbs would soon rip off her hands. Any motion she made added to the unbearable total of her pain. She kept motionless and breathed with caution. Amaril looked up once at her spread arms and the two hands with fingers spread wide and stiff against the torture of her thumbs. Lola gave each of four nipples a kiss before leaving the two girls alone, "I can't stand this, oh Amaril, I just can't!" Donna moaned loudly.
"We have to stand it, we can't do anything else. Try not to scream."
Donna screamed, a long, wailing peal of anguish which echoed around the big stone chamber in which they hung. Donna screamed no more.
The slender nudities hung motionless. One dark head and another with its platinum hair towed forward in total surrender while two pairs of lips moaned. Amaril bitterly considered how Lola had done her work with extreme competence.
Elizabeth Hampton was their first visitor. Leaning upon her stout walking stick, she nodded approvingly at what she saw. Then she circled the girls to take up a position facing them both.
"Lola is such a good girl," she assured conversationally. "You both look absolutely adorable. I had Lola do this to Phyllis a couple of times - instead of whipping the dear girl too often. She assured me the effect was beneficial in banishing silly ideas about escape." She sighed, "If I'd had Lola suspend her more often I expect she would still be here. Doesn't it hurt terribly, darlings?"
Without hope they assured her it hurt terrible, their moans continuing. "Such lovely sounds!" Elizabeth applauded. "I'm so glad I thought of this, the evening might otherwise have been wasted."
Their owner hobbled from the room. Two punished young women complemented themselves upon curbed tongues. Time passed slowly.
When Nigel came his first act was to lower each suspended girl until she could stand flat-footed on the floor. "Best I can do," he told them apologetically. "I don't suppose we'll be interrupted but this will give you a little break."
They said their thanks. When Nigel's hands sought her sex and breasts, Amaril had to speak. "No, please don't. I can't make love like this, I'm... I'm just a... Thing! I'm not a girl, I'm a nothing."
"That bad, heh?"
"I can't tell you how bad it is, Nigel. I don't think your grandmother realizes how bad it is. She thinks its good for us but it isn't, it's torture!"
"Look, I'm damned sorry about the way the old girl is being so mean. I guess she was hurt by losing you. She lost Phyllis and you disappear and she's got nothing. Possessing a captive girl was so much a part of her life it throws her for a loop when the girl is gone."
Nigel was obviously concerned. "You're going to have to put up with this thumb business. I know how far I can push the old lady and tomorrow I'll start pushing, even if she disowns me, I'll make sure there's no more of this thumb business. Whipping your bottom is one thing, but this is another. This is torture! Look, darling, I'm going to fuck you the way you are, try and play along.
Amaril knew everything was possible for a captive girl. She viewed the removal of Nigel's pants and the disclosure of a rampant weapon. When his strong hands encircled her hips and lifted her high enough to gently allow her sex to sink upon his rod, she made no complaint but was grateful for this easement of the pain. Her thumbs throbbed and screamed constantly but most of that was overridden by the sexual heat generated by this novel impalement of a girl. Amaril did the best she could within the limits of Captain Salazar's leg irons and was soon gasping in an all too familiar ecstasy. She didn't even care how she looked to Donna, who would undoubtedly be the next recipient of Nigel's loving. She heard herself gasping, "Make it last, oh Nigel, make it last."
Amaril belonged to Nigel Asbury, she was totally his.
The strange coupling under Nigel's skillful manipulation took Amaril into one more unexplored kingdom of delight. For a little while she forgot her chains and pains to exist only as an instrument of a man's pleasure. When the orgasm enveloped her in fire, she screamed in a manner she had not used against her punishment. They clutched each other fiercely and kissed demandingly before the naked girl, still to be punished, was lifted and then lowered so her feet could find the floor.
"You're wonderful, absolutely wonderful," Nigel whispered as he let her go.
Nigel talked a while, mostly about his intentions to ease their lot and make them happy prisoners, subject more to his will than that of his grandmother. He then took Donna with the same masterful competence while Amaril watched, her mind a seething turmoil of emotion. When the coupling was done, Nigel quietly said, "Sorry girl," and raised them once more with their toes above the floor and went his way.
The sexual glow lasted but a little while before agony reclaimed the suspended pair. Again their thumbs screamed against the constant pain and they tried to remain as still as possible. After a while the whole thing became hazy as Amaril lapsed into unconsciousness to come awake only when she crumpled to the floor. Standing over her was Lola. Amaril felt the click of handcuffs upon her wrists but did not care. When the two girl were led stumbling to the bedroom and thrust within, they threw themselves upon the bed and wept at the hopelessness of their situation and the throbbing pain in their thumbs.
"We'll never escape," Donna moaned. "You thought this would be better than the Kypers' Queen!"
Amaril clutched her tortured twin in chained arms to hug and to weep in a mingling of tears. Probably Mrs. Hampton was enjoying a late cup of tea before going to bed.
The tears of the two slavegirls finally ceased and they sheepishly dried their eyes and wet cheeks by rubbing them on each other. Amaril was trying to think of some topic not totally dismal and discouraging when the door opened unexpectedly and a surprising apparition thrust within the bedroom. As the door slammed shut and was relocked, they beheld the engaging prettiness of a blonde girl with bright, intelligent eyes, whose hands were bound behind her back, and whose elbows had been cruelly tied to meet beneath many strands of cord. Young eyes examined the room and its two occupants in quick understanding.
"Hello, darlings," she said with a voice under perfect control. "My name is Phyllis. I expect you've heard of me."
* * *
It was a simple story, starkly familiar. "It scares me to think how easily us girls are kidnapped," Phyllis began. "After I escaped I swore I would never get caught again. But there's so many ways. This time they simply knocked on my apartment door. When I answered a pad was shoved in my face and here I am.
"Oh, by the way, I'm suppose to tell you that you're not to untie my hands or arms. Having them fixed this way is the beginning of my punishment for being a naughty girl and running away. In a way it wasn't too much of a surprise, I had sort of been waiting for it. I went to the police but they simply told me they didn't dabble in the affairs of another country. I was on my own."
"You mean you've just been brought here after being kidnapped?" Amaril asked.
"Of course, they had me gagged and my feet tied in the trunk of a car. It was a long drive from my apartment in California to here. They'll never let me escape again... Oh, shit!"
They told their stories. To Amaril, who might easily spend the rest of her life at Clifton, the things Phyllis had to tell were very relevant.
"After I had escaped and got back home there were lots of times I was quite sure I had been an idiot," Phyllis went on. "I don't belong to the privileged classes back home and I hadn't realized how much I had come to take all this wealth and comfort for granted. I soon learned to behave myself, that's the term they use for doing what you're told here, and I didn't get punished more than once a month. The old lady seemed really fond of me and Nigel certainly looked after my love life. Oh, did he! When you know there is nothing you can do about it, being fucked is fun. I missed that part! The readjustment to being a clerk in the USA was more difficult than I had supposed. I had to make a decision and chose my friends and be careful what I told them. I early on realized no one was going to be the truth. They'd simply figure I provided Nigel with a nice piece of tail and buttered up the old lady to let me stay at Clifton." She eyed them in appeal. "You've no idea how hard it is to convince the folks back home about slavery and getting your bottom whipped if you didn't behave. After I'd told a couple of my friends about it I didn't bother again.
"There was something else I didn't expect, either," Phyllis continued, "I soon realized how lovely it is to be a slave and not have to worry about anything except you bottom and sometimes your back. You get this house and all your meals and, of course, you get Nigel. Old lady Hampton is really sweet if you butter her up and wear her chains as if you loved every link. It wasn't long before I realized I had had a standard of living down here far better than anything I'd be likely to get back in California. No man I could ever marry could give me half as much. But I kept telling myself that freedom was worth much more than any amount of money. And everyday I did some of those arm stretching exercise just to remind myself that I wasn't handcuffed. I think they had me handcuffed ninety-nine percent of the time, I see they've got you fixed the same way. It's not all that bad when you get used to using two hands instead of one."
"How cruelly did they punish you," came an urgent question from Amaril.
"Whenever I made a mistake. I made a lot of mistakes at first but I soon got wise. Mostly I was whipped but there were things like being hung in suspension or tied up in a tiny little cage or being tied naked to a tree. They never did punish me without what they considered a good reason. The rest of the time I was simply handcuffed while everyone, including the servants, kept an eye on me to make sure I didn't stray. I almost feel guilty for giving them the slip. And I know damned well I'm going to pay for it now that they've got me again."
Phyllis eyed the new girls with amusement. "I bet you're worried about this slavery going on forever, I sure was. But after a while it dies, you comfort yourself with the pretty thought that someday a guy will come along to set you free. That's silly. The only guy who could set us free is Nigel but Nigel's got his eye on the old lady's money and he's careful not to offend. You two have really been whipped, haven't you! I sure hope I haven't got that many marks on my back tomorrow."
Phyllis refused to be untied and even began the task when she jerked away from the. "Don't be silly," she told them, "let me tied. It's the way I'm suppose to be and I'll have to put up with it."
The three captive girls arranged themselves into what comfort they could find and went to sleep.
The beginning of their morning was abrupt. Lola opened the door but it was Juan who carried in the long, lean box so suspiciously like a coffin. Lola sought and captured Amaril's eye to wink broadly in a manner to convey anything or nothing. Quietly she pointed at the dark haired girl and said, "This is the one, Juan, we tie her tight." Amaril knew she should protest, at least say something or ask questions but things moved too quickly to comprehend. One cuff was taken from one wrist and clasp with its fellow on her other. The leg irons were unlocked as was the collar from her neck. Her arms were gathered behind her back and tightly corded in a way to hurt and to discourage motion. Wrists and elbows and then her ankles to render her completely helpless. And then the gag which filled her mouth and bit her lips as it was buckled behind her neck. She stared at Phyllis and Donna in wild dismay as she was lifted and placed within the box and its lid clamped down. Darkness descended upon Amaril, the darkness of the grave. She felt the motions of being carried and then the motor of a trunk became the only sound to reach her. Miss Amaril Summers was going somewhere but she knew not where. At first she struggled in furious anger against both the constriction of the cords and the dark of the box, but soon desisted and lay quiet in the realization of escape from Clifton. True, it was hardly the way she would prefer escape from Clifton but she was still leaving. Leaving in a completely helpless state for a destination she knew not. But still it was an escape. There was faint hope.
After a while she smelt the salt of the sea and the noises of a boat and wildly guess the improbable.
The boat noises lasted a little while and then came the motions of being hoisted aboard the Kypers' Queen. She was carelessly dumped upon the deck. After a while, a breathless time, she heard the familiar, heavy footsteps and then the thrusting aside of the lid of her box. Miss Amaril Summers found herself staring up without surprised at familiar male features that showed considerable more surprise.
"Well, I'll be damned!" said Karl Kypers with feeling. "How in hell did I get you! Somebody's screwed the pooch!"
Had she not been tightly gagged, Amaril would have answered. As it was she made no sound but wiggled her nakedness invitingly, hoping to be untied. But first she was lifted from the crate and stood upright against the rail. Karl kicked away the box and cursed in a good humored tone. He tugged at the strap of her gag. Feeling happy, Amaril waited for the freeing of her lips and the moistening of her tongue before saying brightly, "I'm sorry you're disappointed, Master. If it was Donna you expected, I'm afraid she's still back at Clifton." She remembered Lola' wink and knew who she had to thank for this wonderful substitution. "I expect there's a mistake. Don't you want me?"
Kypers carried her to this office to stand her against his desk on teetering bound ankles while he sat in his massive chair. "Okay, kid, tell me what goes. I didn't buy you, I bought Donna."
Amaril happily told him what she knew and what she guessed. After the whippings and suspension, Clifton seemed a bad dream against which the sunlight on the Kypers' Queen and the tang of salt air had an effect almost euphoric. Kypers heard her out, obviously amused.
"Do you realized, sweetheart, this is the second time you've pulled this trick on me? First time I should have got you sister, now I was suppose to get Donna. But so far as wanting you goes, sure I want you! The man who didn't want you should have his head examined. Your only trouble is your old man and his money - that screws up a normal relationship. And you're always thinking about your rich papa doing a repossession job." Kypers grunted sourly at recollection of Preston Summers. "Your old man gave me a hell of a lot of trouble. Tossing you two gals overboard the way I had to had cost me a lot of dough. How'd it be I take it out of your hide?"
Somehow Amaril was not afraid of this blonde giant. She felt at home with him regardless of possible punishments in store. Almost gaily she replied, "I'm already beautifully marked from the whip. I don't know if I've any skin to spare."
"Sure you have! But I will say whoever laced into you did a thorough job. Look, kid, I'm homy - how about we screw?"
Servicing men appeared to have become Amaril's vocation. But she knew there was only one answer she could make. Brightly she laughed, "Sure, will you lay me on the floor here or do you want me to hop to the bedroom?"
"I'll be damned! You looked so damned cute I forgot there's not much you can do the way you are. Just a minute and I'll get you the way I like you."
He tugged and pulled at knots anxiously. When his reclaimed slavegirl swayed and threatened to fall, he straightened her. When finally Amaril could separate her feet, she stretched gloriously and said one of the most sincere thank you's of her life. Kypers massaged the wealed skin to help work back her circulation. There were deep rope marks where the cords had held her severely tight for so long. But he didn't leave her free for too long. Gathering both her hands, he unlocked one of the cuffs and locked it on the other wrist.
"That's the way I like it," he said forcefully. "A handcuffed gal is a good gal. Take them off and there's no telling what notions she'll get. As far as I'm concerned, you'll wear them handcuffs for life, Miss Amaril Summers."
Amaril laughed in his face. "I don't mind, I've got used to them. I suppose you'll keep me naked, too?"
"Hell, yes! Why the hell would you be wearing clothes? The moral of me and the boys on this ship depends upon our getting a look at them pretty rosebud tits of yours and that little dingus you keep down below. Come on, we'll go to the bedroom. Want I should cane your ass first?"
Amaril realized how much of a slavegirl she had become. She had no thought of escape or even of pleading on the telephone, her only wish was to please this giant of a man who owned her. No doubt Karl Kypers would be mean to her on occasion but the last thing she desired was a return to Clifton. In her new docility she bent and touched her toes immediately they were in the bedroom. But all she got was a hearty slap from a huge male hand before being picked up and tossed on the bed. She was then told that she had better be good or for sure she'd have a burnt ass afterwards.
Miss Amaril Summer was very good indeed!
For the daughter of Preston Summers it was the beginning of a new life. Kypers, who seemed forever busy, fell into the habit of attaching her handcuffs to anything handy while he went about his affairs. Often it was to a ring in the wall of his office so that she stood and listened to his lengthy conversations on the phone, most of which were boring to say the least. When there were things he did not wish her to hear, he unlocked the padlock to lead her to a more distant captivity. In response to Amaril's request, these attachments were mostly in the sunlight in contrast to the prison at San Miguel. Amaril was happy, her back and bottom healing rapidly in the sunlight and the weals were not replaced. The captive girl was cautious in her total obedience to her master. Kypers bestowed upon her a different feeling, quite possibly the easy-going relationship he had enjoyed with Donna. He admitted to being a one girl man and that two females aboard a ship were a pain in the ass. True, he still caned Amaril's bottom before their couplings but it was a punishment without guilt and an erotic excitement of their sex for both. Amaril knew that should she not receive this attention, she would miss it terribly.
Amaril sensed a change within herself, a change due mainly to the blonde giant who's slave she gladly was. But it was also a change due to the diversity of her captivities, each of which had tempered her as a blacksmith would harden a piece of fine steel. Her understanding of the psychology of enslavement increased considerably. She could feel no animosity for any of those who had held her chained or bound or locked behind iron bars. She was particularly enamored of the discovery of the pleasures she now took in nakedness. Amaril took female pleasure in the admiring glances of the crew. Often in her fastenings here and there she was exposed shamelessly to the interested eyes of men and it had become common place for her to engage one of them in conversation while standing naked with her wrists handcuffed to a rail or ring. Kypers admired her nudity in far greater detail in his often vulgar tributes to face and figure. In short, Miss Amaril Summer no longer cared about clothes and, had she been offered them, she would undoubtedly refused to wear them. Even her father had become a distant figure, abstract and not quite real. The same was also true of escape and freedom, these things were there but no longer bothered her. Kypers no longer bothered to call her the mascots of the Kypers' Queen.
They discussed Donna, both feeling guilt over her continued imprisonment at Clifton. At first Kypers had been inclined to demand delivery, but he had purchased only one girl and now found himself unwilling to part with Amaril in any possible exchange. Amaril was staggered by the immense sums of money men paid for girls, she could not see herself as being worth such a price. As a ransom, perhaps, but certainly not for the privilege of keeping a naked, handcuffed girl around the place. And yet she often wondered what Kypers' joy in her, his endless pleasure in what they did together, and in his possession of so lovely a female body. Perhaps if you were a man and had the money, the right girl would be worth whatever she cost.
Increasingly she knew herself the right girl, laughing in her knowledge of those who would consider her condition deplorable and her state of mind ridiculous. She did not care and there was no one aboard the Kypers' Queen who would point a finger.
One morning as they lay happily abed in drowsy satisfaction, Amaril's bottom burning, the man she called "Master" dumped a bombshell in her lap.
"How'd you like to become a trustee, sweetheart? Be on parole, give me you solemn oath not to use a phone or ever escape or try to escape even if given the opportunity. Could you handle it?"
"Oh, Karl!" She used his Christian name unthinkingly in this confrontation with decision, decision fraught with implication. If she said yes, it meant she was forever wedded to the Kypers' Queen or any home in which Kypers chose to live. If she said no, it would be a slap in the face of a man who had lately been kind, a man who was undoubtedly her lover and who found in her handcuffed nakedness his heart's desire. She gasped again, "Oh, Karl, do you trust me that much, do you think I'm ready for it?"
"Wouldn't have said it otherwise."
"I can't possibly say no," she mused aloud. "But if I yes but then break my word because of something I can't control, what then?"
"You'd go back on the rigging or maybe have another session with the sharks," Kypers said heavily. "Wouldn't want to do these things but we've got to have a positive and negative, a right and a wrong, and punishment is the only way I know to make things real."
"I'll go along with that," Amaril said slowly. "But my life has been so crazy. How would you judge me if Clifton or someone else had me kidnapped against my will?"
"I wouldn't judge you at all. I'd get you back pronto. And I'd make sure whoever snatched you knew they had made a mistake. Sweetheart, whether you say yes or not, you still belong to me, you're mind. There's no way I'm ever going to let you go."
Amaril giggled. "I've called you by your first name several times, I'm sorry, Master, I forgot."
"It's okay, but I like the "Master" best. Every time you use it, I get hard."
Amaril's confession came haltingly. "All this time, while I've been obedient and a good girl slave go you, Master, I've always had in the back of my mind the telephone and my Father and escape. I haven't done anything about it, not that you haven't really given me any chances, but thinking about it was a sort of safety valve. I knew I was yours and you might keep me enslaved for life, but the freedom thing has always been there. Now you want me to tell it to go away."
"Keep going, kid, you're doing fine."
They pushed it back and forth and round about. Finally, without qualms or mental reservations. Miss Amaril Summers gave Mr. Karl Kypers her solemn promise to turn her back on freedom and belong to him in even greater totality than she ever had. They made love a long, long time even to the ritual caning of her bottom. But in it all the handcuffed girl found no regrets.
There were quaint complications. Over breakfast, Amaril demurely inquired, "About my handcuffs, Master?"
"They stay on your wrists, sweetheart, there's no way I'm having any girl around who isn't handcuffed?"
"Even a trustee?" Her tone held mischief.
"That's right, even a trustee. You'll never get rid of those handcuffs so don't even try."
Surprisingly Amaril didn't feel bad. A male decision as firm as Karl Kypers' had been possessed a most comforting quality. She basked in it, glowing in their mutual possession of each other. She explored more step further. "Are you going to continue fastening me here and there around the ship for the crew to stare at?"
Kypers glanced across at her, surprised. "Hell, yes, why not!"
"Well, I've never been quite sure if I was chained up like that to keep me from jumping overboard or because you enjoyed the effect, much the same as my being handcuffed. If it was done to keep me from escape, you shouldn't do it anymore."
"You know damned well why I do it, it pleases me. You look cute. It's a marvelous for the men. I don't suppose I could fire one if I tried. Knowing they can't touch doesn't seem to bother them, without trying I've instilled an aesthetic appreciation in the whole crew. It's a sort of new philosophy - it is better to see than to screw."
"But if my parole is respected...."
"Shit, sweetheart, what the hell would you do with yourself all day while I'm busy making money so I can afford you?" Kypers grinned. "I can't think of anything to please a girl more than a constant stream of male adoration. Damn it, if I stopped fastening you here and there, you'd be bored stiff."
Amaril recognized the truth in his argument. She knew herself too deeply immersed in the atmosphere of the Kypers' Queen and Karl's desires. Ruefully she realized his wishes had become her own. There was still mischief in her voice as she inquired, "And will you still cane my bottom?"
"Look, girl, you're being silly," Kypers warned severely. "You'd bend over and get your bottom caned whether I wanted to do it or not. Don't you realize you're a positive little mink when it comes to playtime and bedtime. What you need is a good thrashing but you'll have to wait for it until you give me a reason." He grinned. "If you're looking for logic in all this I don't suppose there is any. Just stop worrying your little head over trifles and just enjoy!"
Amaril did exactly as she was told, seeing herself as a dutiful bride, deeply in love and worshiping her chosen male who could do no wrong. In sweet submission she accompanied her master to where her handcuffs were fastened for his pleasure, received the customary kiss which now spelled wedlock stranger than any girl even knew. Alone, she look down at her steel-encircled wrists to realize nothing had changed. This was as it had been yesterday and as it would be tomorrow. Why then had Kypers sought her promise? The answer burst upon her suddenly. Now her master could take her anywhere, chained or free, naked or clothed and she would be bound to him by a promise far stronger than links of steel! It was a prospect almost frightening when she realized the tax it might place upon her loyalty to the blonde giant who held her prisoner. Now she was sure she would always be Karl Kypers' captive!
Idly and with amusement, Amaril considered her predicament in the event of a Coast Guard boat drawing level and the inevitable boarding party among which would be the august figure of her father. It could just happen! It had already happened during her absence from the Kypers' Queen, while she was playing whore in the prison of San Miguel. It could happen again for most surely Kypers was the prime suspect in her disappearance. Would she then tell her father to forget her freedom and forget her too? That she belonged to the owner of the Kypers' Queen and that was the end to it? She could imagine her father's face. But perhaps it would never happen!
Amaril's mind was alive with conjecture. She truly imagined she would honor her parole, choosing Kypers against any temptation, choosing her handcuffs over freedom. Wryly, she realized again that handcuffs and nakedness were her natural state, she wanted no other and would accept no other-at least not willingly! Still in a mischievous examination of her new condition, she saw its pitfalls and temptations more clearly then when in bed with the man who had thus enslaved her mind as well as her body. A fierce heat enveloped the sex of Miss Amaril Summers to tell her she was owned more utterly than ever supposed.
It was as if the gods conspired. Temptation was almost instant. She had talked often to the member of the crew who accosted her now with an urgent whisper, "I know you want to get free, Miss. I know you father will pay a lot of money to any man who safely delivers you home." The greedy eyes were drinking in the nakedness he probably hoped to enjoy. "I decided to quit. There's a boat I've fixed for a quick getaway. I'll take you with me if you say the word."
It was the drama of television. But it was also a promise and a hope. It was Amaril's first test, suspiciously close to the declaration she had made that day in bed. Quietly she asked, "How do I know I can trust you? I'll be terribly punished if we're caught."
"You don't know. But you've nothing to loose, Miss Summers. I'll get you decent and there's no reason we can't make it the way I've planned. This ship has been cruising up and down and we're never far from a coast. There's nothing to worry about, no risk at all. I know what I'm doing."
"I'm sorry, I'm not interested."
The seaman shrugged and went away.
Karl Kypers laughed uproariously when she related the incident. "You mean to tell me you didn't catch on? That you didn't realize he was just feeding you a line to see if you would take the bait?"
"Oh, Karl, don't tell me...?"
"Of course, honey, it was a put up job. I was testing you and you came through with flying colors. Sweetheart, you're a positive jewel."
"But you didn't trust me!"
"Don't get snooty about it, don't be mad. I asked a lot of you. You promised a lot. Now the whole thing is for sure. You ought to be pleased, I am."
She was in Karl Kypers arms, her handcuffs crushed against his chest to the point where they clicked an extra notch to become very tight indeed. Amaril made not complaint, the hurt she had felt over what she saw as a needless test vanished within the magic of her master's embrace.
"I have to be crazy," she whispered in a small, woebegone voice. "But I still love you, I still want you to own me. Test me again any time you like, it will keep me on my toes." She knew not what she asked.
The next day she was once more approached by the man who offered her escape. He was sheepishly apologetic. "Don't let it bother you," he said, "it was something Mr. Kypers wanted me to do. I don't mind a bit."
In sudden feminine sympathy for his obvious hunger, Amaril said without proper thought, "You desire me, I know you do. The way you keep looking at my breasts. I'm terribly sorry about belonging to only one man. No, no, you must not touch but I want you to know I understand."
"It's not right the way he keeps you chained around the ship." He sounded sincere. "Look at you now, handcuffed and chained to the rail of those steps. It's no life for a girl and I'd offer to get word to whoever you want." His grin became once again sheepish. "But I guess we blew it, didn't we? We can't trust each other."
He went away.
That night Kypers broached a new idea.
They were happily in bed. Amaril's bottom burned and throbbed demandingly even after they first coupling. She knew she was becoming greedy and insatiable but did not care. The best she could hope for was to match her master in the games they played. She was laying upon his outstretched arm when she heard, "I'm going to be a real bastard, honey." Her blonde beast whispered, "Are you ready for a shock?"
"You wish to cane my bottom twice this evening, is that it?"
"Hell, no! I've been thinking about the boys aboard this ship. They're something more than ordinary crewmen. They've been a lot of help to me in one way or another in the past. I've been picking up rumbles."
"Rumbles? What about?"
"You! Every man jack of them is nuts about you. They're getting so the most important thing in their lives is to give you a good screw. "
"That's all right, Master, a girl gets used to it. It isn't just on this ship, it's all over the place. Every man wants to screw girls. We get so we'd like to slap their silly faces. There ought to be a pill...."
"I've got a real wicked idea, Amaril, my pet. Supposing I declare tomorrow open season on my property. Any man desiring you can have you. That means the whole damned crew!"
"Karl, you're joking!"
"That's the hell of it, sweetheart, I'm not joking. I'm dead serious. I'm using you to pay off debts. I owe these boys and you're the best currency they understand."
"Isn't that like tossing someone to the lions?"
"In a way but I'm suggesting it in the knowledge of what you are. Those men have been looking at you hungrily. But the way you've looked at some of them isn't exactly without desire yourself. Am I right?"
Amaril knew he was right. Girls had the same desires as men but in a lesser and more selective manner. She would have cheerfully given herself to the crewman who had spoken to her today but considered it impossible. Miss Amaril Summers thought back to all the men who had used her sex and the carnality of desires beyond control. Outrageously she felt heat within her loins. There would be a dozen men to whom she would be hostage to their lust. Each of them would be more potent than any man on shore for the life at sea, far away from girls they could screw, and exposed daily to her naked beauty, had surely built up in them a great, burning, overwhelming desire for sex. Add to that her chains and she wondered how they had managed to not rape her so far.
Quietly she asked, "Is there any use my arguing?"
"No, honey bunch, there ain't a lick of good. This hasn't a thing to do with your parole."
"And you won't mind me fucked by a dozen other men?"
"Don't put it that way, honey. The way I see it is sharing something, paying off a debt You're the most valuable thing I've got so the boys will know I'm sincere." Kypers voice became an excitement-charged whisper, "You know damned well you'll love the whole thing!" Would she!? Would Amaril Summers love repeated male thrusts hard into her secret place? A month ago the question would have been academic, her answer firm and assured in the negative. But she was no longer the same girl. Quietly she heard her own voice say, "Of course, Master, if it pleases you. " Guiltily she knew the pleasure would be hers!
They amused themselves talking about ways and means. There were elements of rape but consent was there so the question was to the means by which she would be made available. Karl Kypers would make the announcement early in the day. After that it was up to the crewmen and to Amaril herself. They laughed over the picture of her running around the deck to elude naked, homy crewmen with carnal intents on their minds. It would add a sporting element but was hardly practical. The ideal would be for her to be sweetly generous with her body and make each man feel it was for him alone. It became a question of how and where she would be chained. Amaril insisted upon being chained as an aid to courage. If she were helpless she could not change her mind. They chose fifteen feet of chain and padlocked her to the rail in the bright sunlight. She could walk back and forth upon the deck and the fifteen feet gave enough slack for most any position a crewman could possibly dream up.
She was told to caution each man to go away and not to look when a companion enjoyed her favor. The moment in which Karl Kypers snapped the padlock of her chain was one of the most potent of Amaril s life. Even after he was gone and she stood alone, there was an excitement and tingle inside her.
The first was the boy named Vince who had once placed her in irons in the brig. His eyes were shining as if in sight of the Golden Fleece. "Is it true, Miss, I really can?"
"It's true, Vince, you may use me for whatever time it takes. Is there any special position?"
There was no special position. The men must have come to an agreement of their own for none were in view when Vince shed his pants to reveal his rod at full mast. Amaril pretended ecstatic admiration to tell him she was eager for his tool. She lay upon the deck and spread her legs, holding up joined hand in invitation. It did not take long. Vince was quite excited and beyond control. The chained girl, who had received his seed, felt a terrible sympathy as she kissed him fondly in farewell. In the back of her mind she keep tally: number one.
Number two was middle and caution itself. "You sure I won't get into no trouble, Miss?" he inquired doubtfully. "Can't hardly believe I can have you, you're so damned beautiful. Did the boss chain you the way you're fixed?"
"Of course, it's for your convenience. Would you like me to lay on the deck?"
"There's them that done it standing up," he said doubtfully. "I'd feel better if you was laying down. If you don't mind."
Amaril lay down to accommodate number two. She felt a whore but drew comfort from the fact no money changed hands. The middle aged member of the crew used her to the best of his ability then departed, muttering apologies for defiling something so sacred as the owner's concubine. Amaril wanted to laugh.
It was a steady progression. Amaril supposed some girl might have remembered each man by the contours of his cock. She could not. There was a quite shocking similarity about them all with the exception of one quite young man who proved impotent. That one she would remember as he stared unhappily at his limp member and said, "It ain't gonna work, Miss. Gollies, I'm so damned ashamed."
"Would you like to whip me?"
He stared aghast, then cast aside his veil of innocence. "I'd like that more than anything in the world," he admitted in a soft voice.
"Okay, go and get something to beat me with. I'll still be here when you come back."
"You're kidding me, Miss, the boss would kill me. Whip something as beautiful as you!"
"Sure, I don't mind. If you don't have a whip then get a rope or something."
He got a rope. Amaril bunched herself up to protrude a round bottom. But as the first blow fell there came a triumphant cry. "You done it, Miss, you got the right idea. Look what I got now!"
Amaril looked and was thankful for the face-saving erection she beheld. This young man would find nothing to regret in his union with the owner's mistress. Both of them gave splendidly to leave the chained girl conscious of a strange virtue.
When the last of them had claimed his privilege, Amaril lay quietly in the sun. She supposed she should feel defiled and, by Victorian standards, should have succumbed to the lethal thrusts of a "fate worse than death." But she actually felt only a deep content as at a job well done and a hunger satisfied. After a while she stood up to lean on the rail and watch the waves swirl. When Kypers appeared, she said, without accusation, "Master, it is done. Each man has used me. What now is you desire?"
Amaril was kissed, her bottom patted in Karl Kypers own paternal way. The fifteen feet of chain was taken from her handcuffs as she was told, "That's it, honey, you've done you duty. There isn't a one of them expects a second go at you. I've a happy crew! Want me to screw you now?"
"Would you, Master? I mean, there's so many horrible things about using a girl who's been used too much already. What to they call it... 'A wet deck?' "
"Go and have a douche, sweetheart, you'll feel better." He chuckled quietly, "So will I."
Late that night, while she was in his arms, he asked suddenly "Forgive me?"
Amaril's answer was instant, "There's nothing to forgive. I adore you, you big brute. Next time you should be really mean." Everything was crazy but Amaril did not care.
CHAPTER EIGHT - CONTENTED CAPTIVE
Amaril's mischievous request for something "really mean" stuck a cord in her lord and master in a predictable fashion. They continued their halcyon existence aboard Kypers' floating office for a couple of days before the blonde giant thoughtfully reminded her.
"Remember your saying I should do something real mean to you, honey?" he casually said. "You still that crazy?"
"Of course, so long as it's you." She mocked him with mischievous eyes. "What is it this time? Tied to the rigging or ironed in the brig?"
"I'd have thought you would be bored with them by now." Amaril laughed in a mood to invite trouble. "Isn't that what punishment mostly is, waiting for something awful to happen and not being able to walk away?"
"And you don't like being shark bait?"
"That scares me to death, Master. I just don't have enough faith in that single rope the boys hold. A second's delay too much and I'm a shark's breakfast. But if you want to be really mean...."
"Okay, no sharks! But you've given me an idea. After the first five minutes you're going to hate it."
Amaril shrugged, delicious tremors running up and down her spine, heat swiftly generating. "You own me, Master," she said simply. "I don't have anything to say about anything. When doesn't it happen?"
"Tonight. You'll go to it with a scorched seat."
Amaril made a pert grimace and tried to reach back to soothe a pert bottom still tenderly aware of the previous evening. That was one of the bad things about handcuffs, a girl couldn't adequately explore that portion on which she sat. "I do everything with a scorched seat," she pointed out without complaint. "You make it a permanent condition for me and I wish my bottom would toughen up."
"No you don't. Do you think I haven't seen you admiring yourself in the mirror? You're sporting some marvelous colors back there." Amaril spent a lazy, sunny day upon the deck, her owner joining his girl slave from time to time for a drink. Both were relaxed and happy and inclined to speculate about their tomorrows.
"How would it be I take you ashore and we have a fun day in Century City?" he inquired. "You'd have to wear something, of course, and I haven't the nerve to sport you around handcuffed. You'd be free in a way you haven't been in quite a while. The naked girl's heart slipped a beat. Free! But would she really be free... ?
"I'd still be your prisoner by my parole," she taunted without too much concern. "Could you trust me? Could I trust myself?"
"The answer to both of those is yes," Kypers said decisively. "If you're really mean to me tonight, I may chose to run away. You're taking an awful chance."
"I have to take that chance sometime, you won't let me down." It was a good feeling to be thus owned and thus desired. The handcuffed girl reveled in it as if it were a real, physical object she could see and touch. It was one of those happy days we all remember and cannot explain. Karl Kypers and Amaril Summers embraced it in a sane awareness of good fortune. He took her to bed and the reddened her bottom before heavily ironing her in the brig. Amaril was disgusted.
"Oh, Karl, this is plain, old anticlimax! Can't you think of something more exciting?"
He patted her bottom and locked her tight within the confines of the metal cage. What he intended to do to her could wait until tomorrow. In the meantime a night in irons in the brig, which they now laughingly called the Iron Maiden, would do her good. In his wisdom, Karl Kypers knew how the steel bands on wrist and ankle, with their dragging weight of chains, would have a beneficial effect on any female, any time. They both slept surprisingly well.
Century City gathered them unto itself in late afternoon. Amaril insisted on only one dress and beyond that renounced window shopping. "What's the use of me buying clothes, Karl, you never allow me to wear any and I don't even want to any more. If you keep be aboard the Kypers' Queen, I don't suppose I'll ever were clothes again."
She got patted approvingly. But they spent a lot of time selecting the single, lovely thing they did buy. She changed into it in the shop and wore it with pride.
Miss Amaril Summers on parole was alive with vivid sensation. Walking free and unrestrained for the first time in a long time, she was proud to be seen beside the blonde giant who made it evident he was equally proud of her. They drew glances for people rarely saw such a matched pair of physical beauty. Century City with its several levels and towers was all the capitals of the world rolled into one. It was also Camelot.
They did a show and, in late evening, crossed the Avenue of the Stars with it wild excess of fountains, to dine at the Century Plaza. After dinner they got a preferred seat in the Rotunda where they sipped brandy served by a pair of Islamic Houris from an Arabian Nights. The crowd was huge and varied and held a tremendous fascination for the girl who had been a prisoner for so long. Not that Century City to Amaril Summers but tonight it was transformed by magic into a paradise. They spread their drinks as best they could to make the evening last. By the time they went back across the Avenue of the Stars the hour was late and the many brandies was hot fire in their veins. To add to the euphoria there was a full moon which bathed even the hard concrete in silver radiance. Trespassing upon grass they entered a tiny area of pine trees.
Karl turned and said abruptly, "This is it, honeybunch, take off your clothes."
The daughter of Preston Summers should have been shocked but was not. The grass was dry and would make a kindly cushion for her back. If her master desired possession of her body in this magic place, why not! Amaril would never have done it sober, but now it seemed the most natural request in the world. To remove the lovely new dress, kick off the lovely new shoes, and stand naked to await the pleasure of her lord. Century City was a sleeping giant which paid no heed.
"Give me your hands, sweetheart."
The request seemed entirely rational. The girl thrilled to the familiar feel of steel upon her wrist and the familiar click of ratchets as the circlets tightened upon her skin. Amaril was too bemused by Cognac and moonlight to comprehend the swift instructions.
"The car is in that little layby off Santa Monica Boulevard on the north side of the California Interstate. Meet me there. If you don't panic, no one will see."
A moment later Karl Kypers had vanished with her clothes and shoes. The once more naked and forever handcuffed maiden stared after him aghast, not fully comprehending the hazards of her task. More inclined to giggle than to shout out in alarm. No doubt the few trees would shield her briefly while she stared at the nearby traffic, the silvery fountains and the illuminated bulk of the Century Plaza Hotel. Everything of delightfully familiar to the daughter of a wealthy man. But it was indeed something from the Arabian Nights for a girl sans clothes and with her hands joined by steel. She could imagine Kypers' chuckle as he carried her clothes.
Still glowing under the heavy fumes of France, Miss Amaril Summers realized slowly she could not remain forever under those few trees. She was familiar with the area, familiar enough to realize she had a long walk, or a long run ahead of her to reach the mentioned place. She would have to slip, ghost-like, from cover to cover to evade the few pedestrians within the maze of towers and walkways. The wide avenues would offer no cover at all to fleeing nudity and she would have to cross many of them. Standing there Amaril planned her route with a mind just beginning to sober to the task ahead.
It was sensory sensation plus! The naked girl, certain that every eye in Los Angeles was upon her, flitted swiftly into the same shadows where her master had disappeared. She was thankful for the golden skin of suntan. At least she would not reflect moonlight and become a ghostly white apparition. With her linked hands flat against a stone pillar, she cautiously peeked at the possibilities before sneaking silently from pillar to pillar. So far, so good!
Amaril's erotic excitation kept fear at bay. It was well past midnight and Amaril seemed to have Century City mostly to herself. At least so far she had been able to spot the few people out and about and avoid them. A wider road was her next hazard. She fled across it in a blind panic, hoping there were none to see. Once more she was in shadows, flitting as rapidly as she could. Rounding a sharp comer disaster claimed her in the form of a huge hand from the shadows clasping her hair to force her painfully to a halt. A gruff voice proclaimed, "What the devil do you think you're up to, young lady?"
It was a security guard, middle ages, a bit paunchy, obviously interested. "Aha! Where have you escaped from?" he exclaimed upon seeing her chained hands. "Didn't think the cops were careless enough to let something like you get away from them." He laughed coarsely. "I suppose you left them holding your clothes when you made a run for it."
"I'm doing this for a bet. Please let go my hair, you're hurting," Amaril demanded angrily. "Just leave me alone, I know where I'm going."
"I'll bet you do. And you've had some expensive drinks. How many times you've been laid tonight, lady?"
"Let me go, you've no right to talk to me like this."
"The hell I haven't! Naked, handcuffed broads don't come my way every night. We'll go in this doorway here where no one's going to see. It's nice and private."
He evidently took Amaril's obedience for granted. Holding her hair, he grasped for a bare arm which was not where it should have been. Uncertain whether she could outrun this nuisance, Amaril kicked savagely for his groin and felt, with keen satisfaction, the solid impact of her heel. While the guardian of security gasped and clutched, she turned and fled in the first true panic of this ordeal Karl Kypers had set up for her. She could no longer play cat and mouse, the guard would catch for sure. And now he would show her no mercy.
The naked girl ran as never before, join hands clasp against her breasts, her feet soft whispers against the tiles. Uncaring whether she was seen, she ran in terror until panting and breathless, she braved the lights of the last large street, leaped across an area of grass and into an open door of Kypers waiting car. She found the fierce embrace of Kypers' eager arms. A moment later she was sobbing uncontrollably upon a male shoulder.
"Probably a damned fool idea," Kypers admitted as the car wove its way to the Harbor Freeway and the waiting ship. Amaril was busy inserting her nudity into her dress. In the vast relief of a successful mission she conceded, "It wasn't all that bad. That damned guard scared me but he was old and fat and I suppose it gave a bit of spice to the whole thing. Don't feel guilty, Karl, its given us something to laugh about when I stop trembling."
"Next time we get drunk under a full moon, honey, we'll do it again. But next time I'll handcuff you to something solid and not too public, and I'll come and pick you up later. By that time you should have a story or two to tell."
So long as that plan was far in the future, Amaril had little interest in it now. Still emboldened by the brandy, she laughed, "Wouldn't it be a lot easier just to whip me?" she asked mischievously. "Or am I allowed to be hung upside down for the sharks? I could probably handle that better a second time. A girl gets accustomed to anything.
"No use doing it to you then,'- Karl said reasonably as he enclosed her femaleness within one free arm. "I'll think of something else. Trouble is, I have to be mean if we're to get a kick out of it. When I'm mean with you I feel guilty. Isn't that a laugh?"
Amaril thought it wonderful.
* * *
The Kypers' Queen steamed slowly out of the harbor. His choice of a floating office was probably a good one, it gave him freedom and impeded none of his business affairs. As an added bonus it enabled him to keep captive girls, handily chained, as a diversion. True, he could have maintained on shore, but not without complications. As it was Amaril could sunbath naked upon the deck without a single eyebrow being raised. The crew desired her but had a working arrangement with he who paid their wages. The owner, the single passenger, and the crew knew they had the best of all worlds. Amaril's multi-colored bottom was admired by all.
"That race you ran in Century City was just a notion, came to me all of a sudden and I couldn't resist," Kypers mused as they sat together in the sun. "Wasn't what I'd call really mean, just a bit of fun for both of us. But what really gets to me is that never once in the whole time did I remember that parole deal you and I have going. It plumb slipped my mind."
"I never thought of it, either," Amaril confessed. "Doesn't that make you feel you can trust me now?"
"I trusted you then. Don't ask me why but I have a feeling about you. There's no way I'm ever going to set you free."
Instead of the cold clutch of fear Amaril felt only the scold of hot desire. Silently she rated herself as shameless. In the same spirit of a new freedom she asked, "What are you going to do to me next?"
"Shouldn't ask that, honey, give me ideas."
"Why don't you make me swim ashore the same place as before so I could trade myself for Donna who could swim back out to the ship and everybody would be back at square one?"
"You have to be kidding! You know there's no way I'll part with you."
The handcuffed girl found comfort in the male assurance, allowing the subject to drop and dreamily wondering what her next ordeal might be. She had no thought of evading it, these Quixotic forays into penalties and pain had become a delightful diversion for them both and given her surpassingly little pain. She felt comfortably certain that even though Karl Kypers might sometimes be cruel, it would change nothing. Her test came late that night.
It was after the canning of Amaril's bottom and the fierce lovemaking which followed that, instead of seeking sleep, Karl picked her up and carried her on deck. Rope was ready by the rail and the sleepy but startled girl stood meekly while the handcuffs were taken from her wrists and, for safekeeping, clamped above her elbows. Her hands were then painstakingly tied together, palm to palm, with thick, soft rope, strand after strand which, when finally knotted, was finally encircled by stout nylon. There was a considerable coil of it and the girl who was about to endure a punishment of her own inspiration began to catch a glimpse of what the punishment might be. They stood looking out to sea at approximately half way between the ships blunt nose and its churning propellers. Suddenly lacking courage, Amaril gazed wide-eyed at the smiling giant and said, "Oh, Karl, please not the sharks again!"
"Not the sharks, honey. And not upside down. This one shouldn't be all that hard to take."
He kissed her gently before lifting her over the rail while clutching her tether in a hard, strong hand, playing it out a foot at a time to lower his beloved towards the deep, black water. When Amaril's toes were six inches above the swirling surface, he snubbed her lifeline and fastened it swiftly and surely before taking a last look at the swaying nakedness and going back to bed. In the morning he would get a full accounting of Amaril's peril filled night.
Amaril's first impression was of the tremendous and sinister bulk of the Kypers' Queen. She instinctively lifted her feet in shrinking apprehension of things unseen in the deeps below. It was a pose she could not hold for long and little by little she allowed herself to relax in the certainty of Karl's keeping her from harm.
Suspension from bound hands is no picnic at any time. True, Amaril's wrists had been bound as kindly as rope can allow. She was certain her tether above was safe and secure. It was a measure of her faith in the blonde giant that she was able to control the mental image of the ship as a huge, black monster ready to drop her into the jaws of some terrible creature from the ocean's depths. Her wrists burned to match her caned and smarting seat.
As dark water passed beneath the captive girl's bare feet, Amaril gazed above in the hope Kypers might still be there, leaning over the rail to survey his work and her nude antics at the end of her rope. But there were heads and no eyes to behold her plight. To look both back and forward necessitated her kicking her legs out to turn upon the rope. The ships contours insured her free suspension without contact against the steel hull. Soon the naked girl made the adjustments by which she met punishments head on to survive insanity. Except for the terrors within her mind what she suffered now was no different than being hung with arms up high in Kypers,' the bedroom, or to the rigging of the ship. If there were sharks below, it was scarcely probably they would leap from the water to attack.
It was a peaceful night, the moon turning everything to sliver while the ripples spread outwards under Amaril's feet in a luminescent carpet. Up on deck the scene would be beautiful and the naked girl swinging at the end of her rope wished devoutly she were there to see it.
Amaril stoically endured her punishment while maintaining silence. She was sure that screaming would only earn her more punishment. Mostly she closed her eyes to shut the very real situation she was in. She could imagine herself hanging from the beams of Karl's office cabin, her toes only an inch above the thick green carpet, and Karl due to soon return and make love to her. But from time to time she opened if for no other reason than to make sure no triangular fins cut the water only inches below her toes. In these occasional glances she became aware of a small dark spot upon the sea, a spot that came closer and closer to the Kypers' Queen. The suspended girl suddenly felt fear. Was this a sea monster? No, it could not be for there were no sea monsters. If what she saw was real, it had to be a small boat.
The forward motion of the Kypers' Queen was slow. The approaching small craft had no difficulty overtaking the much larger ship. The coast was probably no more than five miles distant so a fishing boat or small pleasure would not be unexpected. But to the naked girl it seemed this boat was looking for her and her alone. She became more and more sure of that when it heading directly towards her from aft. She was sure that, in the bright moonlight, who ever was on that boat could easily see the naked girl hanging from the railing. Perhaps it would come close enough to confirm what they thought they had seen then go away. But Amaril did not believe this, watching eyes were concerned with her and her punishment. She could scream but it was unlikely anyone could hear. And, in any case, curiously got the better of her. Fascinated, she realized the quiet sound of a motor had stopped but the intruder continued to nose towards her. It seemed as if the pilot would run the sharp nose of the boat right into Amaril as she hung helpless. At the last second the nose turned and presented its side to her. A live figure presented itself and with a quick slash severed her lifeline. Miss Amaril Summers fell into waiting arms to be carried to a small cabin where she was dumped on the rough deck. Over her the pilot made swift motions in the shadows and moonbeams and the little boat quickly moved away from the Kypers' Queen.
It had happened swiftly. The audacious plucking of a naked girl from the Kypers' Queen had taken only a few minutes. The bound girl had been too helpless and too frightened to influence what might be her rescue or a fresh abduction. Amaril rose to her feet awkwardly to stand not far from the figure steering the boat, her hand held before her, the slashed tether trailing down but not quite reaching the wooden deck. It was all quiet unreal and a quick glance out of the window showed the Kypers' Queen vanishing into the distance.
A male voiced demanded, "Well, don't I even get a thank you?" He was young, maybe thirty, clad only in shorts to reveal a bronzed muscular body that would catch any girl's eye. His own eyes constantly strayed to Amaril's ample curves.
"Gosh, you're quite something. You're a beauty. Gosh, this is my lucky night! But what the hell were you doing hanging overboard from Karl Kypers' ship?"
Absurdly she knew not what to say. This rescue of a maiden in distress promised nothing but embarrassment. If she told the truth, she would be laughed to scorn, but this new twist of her wheel of fortune held promise. "I'm terrible grateful, really I am. Preston Summers is my father and if you'll take me to him I'm sure you'll be well rewarded. And I'll be tremendously thankful." She held up roped hands. "Would you mind untying me?"
It was as if she had said nothing. Almost in mockery he told her, "And my name's Thomas Tilsberry. You can call me Tom. Please do sit down." He kicked a heavy stool to where she stood.
Amaril was glad to sit but had no sooner done so than her rescuer took the severed rope and tied it down to the rungs of the stool in such a manner as to compel his visitor to hold her bound wrists in her lap. Like everything with this assured young man she had been fastened with swift efficiency but now indignation rose up within her. "Why did you do that? Why have you tied me like this? Let me loose!"
"Hold it, hold it!" her new acquaintance said. "Never can tell about girls, they do the damndest things. I need a bit of time to talk to you and do some thinking. I've never heard of this Summers guy and I don't need a reward. What I'm curious about is you and the Kypers' Queen."
"What Mr. Kypers and I do together is none of your business," Amaril told him stiffly. "If you had asked me I would have told you to leave me hanging there. I wasn't hurting much and I would have been pulled back up on deck before morning. Now you've caused every one a lot of trouble. Please untie my hands, you've no right to hold me like this."
"Wheels within wheels, heh?" Tom Tilsberry looked at her sardonically. "A spoiled, rich bitch who plays dangerous sexy games aboard the Kypers' Queen but still wants to go home to daddy, and daddy will pay to get her back. What do you expect me to make out of that?!"
"Make what you like out of it. Where are you taking me?"
Amaril knew herself ungrateful for a rescue that, under other circumstances, might have saved her life. She probably sounded churlish and spoiled but this young man was just one more problem. Amaril could scarcely believe herself kidnapped again, no doubt his play with her tied hands was done to keep her guessing or perhaps spur her to be more informative.
"You should have left me alone," she said defiantly. "You should try minding your own business."
"Judging by your suntan you spend most of your time naked," Tilsberry observed thoughtfully. "Do you always have a pair of handcuffs clasped to your arm?"
"They're none of your business. A friend put them there. Sometimes he puts them on me for fun. Look, Mr. Tilsberry, I'll repeat my offer of a reward for taking me back to my father."
"If I had a key, I'd take them off and put them on you instead of that rope. Would you happen to have a key about you?"
"Don't be silly, where would I keep a key!"
"I can think of places?"
"I'm sure you can! Please don't go prodding around, you won't find anything."
"I'll have a look anyway. Besides I want a better inspection. You're quite something, you know... Those breasts!"
Amaril fumed silently while her tether was taken from the stool and threaded through an eye bolt in the ceiling. When it was pulled tight she was very much on her toes and increasingly indignant. But the man called Tom paid no heed to her blush while he searched her hair and then, spreading her feet apart, inserted a questing finger down below. Finding nothing, he made apology. "Well, I had to look, you know. Those handcuffs would be damned handy if I had a key. But I expect I can find a bit of chain and a padlock to keep you happy."
"Please don't bother. If you won't take me to my father, then put me ashore anywhere you like and we'll say goodbye."
Tilsberry did not answer, his fingers toyed with Amaril's breasts, increasing her indignation no end. "You're quite lovely," he assured her. "The loveliest thing I've ever seen. Everything about you is perfect. That tiny waist and those hips. And, by the way, where did you bottom get these lovely colors, someone must have used a crop or a cane on you."
"Those colors are my business, Mr. Tilsberry. Please stop your concern about my body and put me ashore. You don't seem the sort of person from whom I can expect any real help."
"Want me to beach you in San Pedro harbor? Without a stitch and without a dime? Come, come, Miss Summers, let's be practical." Amaril tossed her head, conscious of her blush and even more conscious of the degree of her exposure. But there was always her trump card. She played it now.
"You men who get a girl the way I am always want the same thing. If you'll untie my hands, I'll lay down and spread my legs for you. I'm not a virgin, this scene has been played before."
"You telling me you're kidnap prone?"
"Something like that. Doesn't my offer interest you?"
"In my own place and time. I don't like to be invited inside a girl's legs. I prefer to kick them apart."
"Very well, then kick my apart and return me to my family. " Amaril was breathing heavily. "Damn it man, what the hell do you want with me?"
Tom Tilsberry's eyes looked shrewd. "A little civility to begin with." He slowly withdrew his belt from its loops to dangle it before her eyes. "Think this would help?"
"Yes it will," the trapped girl said with complete candor. "I'm not stoic heroine. I don't want you belting my skin. I'll do whatever you say."
"My, my, you've played this game before, too, haven't you."
"What if I have, my Master often...!" Amaril, in confusion, stopped dead after the tell-tale word. Quickly she added, "A man made my bottom the colors you've just admired. I'm quite familiar with belts. "
"So Karl Kypers put the leather to your pretty little ass, heh?" Tilsberry's voice became almost reverent. "I'm going to do the same. Stop me with you're prepared to be an obedient and polite little girl." Thomas Tilsberry's first blow across the naked back was swift and sure before Amaril could muster a reply. The leather made a frightful sound and hurt bitterly. Amaril Summers stamped her bare feet as best she could, tugging at tied hands. "Stop it! I've told you I'll do what you want, there's no need to whip me. A belt hurts horribly across a girl's bare back. You ought to have more sense."
The second resounding bite of leather drew a more humble response, "I keep saying I'll do whatever you want. I'll try and be polite. If you wish, I'll kneel and do all those silly things that will cause a man to get an erection...." The third cut with the belt was the unkindest one of all. It hurt distressingly and the tied girl realized these leather impacts could go on and on and on. Tears escaped her eyes to stain her cheeks as she sobbed, "Please, I'll be as humble as you wish, please don't whip me any more." Miss Amaril Summers was tired and sick to death with the absurdities of men.
Without a word she was untied and placed upon a tiny cot. Obediently she opened her legs to receive the ancient ritual of the slave maiden and the victorious male. When it was over her new captor rummaged around to find a length of chain and a padlock. The chain was just long enough to encircle her neck and attach it to the cot on which she lay. Uncaring about anything she sobbed herself to sleep.
When Miss Amaril Summers awoke in late morning the first thing she observed were the concerned features of Nigel Asbury.
CHAPTER NINE - PRISONER
Amaril sat up, or tried to! Her neck was instantly snubbed by chain and she said, miserably, "Oh, Nigel, please help me. Please get me out of this."
A key dealt with the padlock to leave her free. She sat up and exclaimed, "Oh, Nigel, it's so good to see you! I don't know where we are. But now I'm away from Clifton and the Kypers' Queen. Oh, please take me or send me home to Daddy. I'm so tired and I'm frightened and I don't want to be a naked slavegirl any more." Her eyes sought his. "Oh, Nigel... Please!"
Nigel kissed her forehead gently before making an abrupt demand, "Roll over."
Amaril obeyed, wishing things were different. Then she heard the whistle of his in drawn breath. "Kypers had himself a time with your bottom? I'll bet you enjoyed every minute of it? I suppose the three across your back came from Tilsberry?"
The once more captive girl lay on her face in silence until Nigel roughly grasp her arm to say, "Come on. say something. I want to know about you and Kypers."
"There's nothing to tell, he made me a prisoner the same as you. Don't you remember, he was suppose to get Donna instead of me. Are you still holding Donna prisoner?"
"You sure do love that word, don't you? Yes, Donna is a guest at Clifton. The old lady's become quite attached to her."
"If Mr. Tilsberry took me from the Kypers' Queen on your orders then you're being dishonest," Amaril accused. "Karl Kypers paid a lot of money for a girl and now he hasn't got one. He'll be made as a hornet when he sees that cut rope. Please, Nigel, don't mess my life up any more than it already is."
She might as well have saved her breath. Nigel was obviously thinking hard and enjoying the sight of her naked body again. Catching sight of the handcuffs above her elbow, he produced the key he always carried and unlocked them. Too disgusted to protest, Amaril meekly held out her hands to receive once more the familiar bite of steel upon her wrists.
"There, that's better!" Nigel was happier. "I knew there was something wrong with the way you were sitting. You should remind me of these little details. Cheer up, girl, you're now properly dressed."
"No I'm not. I'm naked. The whole lot of you should be ashamed to keep me with way. Please send me home."
"Don't be silly, you'd be bored still. Daddy wouldn't cane your pretty bottom and I doubt you could exist now without being handcuffed."
"Sure and I wouldn't mind trying," Amaril snapped sarcastically. "Look, Nigel, what are you going to do with me?"
The question was rhetorical. Amaril was staring out of the cabin window, mouth open in shock, eyes wide in amazement at the sight of the trim white ship with its guns fore and aft. A dingy was being lowered and a voice came over a bullhorn.
"Stand by to be boarded."
"Oh, shit!" It was all Nigel could think to say. Within minutes uniformed men, armed and serious looking, were in charge of the tiny boat. With them was the authoritative figure of an older man. Amaril exclaimed, "Daddy, oh Daddy, it's really you!"
She dived into the comfort of parental arms.
"Take this man into custody," Preston Summers motioned at Nigel. "I'll press charges later. Search the boat."
"No, oh no! Don't touch Nigel, he hasn't hurt me!" the rescued girl said in blushing confusion. "Nigel didn't kidnap me, he was trying to help."
The occasion should have been joyous but no one except Amaril seemed pleased. There was an atmosphere of expectant embarrassment while a coat was found to wrap around the naked girl. Amaril's blush intensified immediately. She had been so used to being without clothes she had forgotten for a father to see his daughter thus was indeed shameful. Nigel added to the awkwardness by casually suggesting, "I have a key to those things she's wearing on her wrists. Would you like me to use it?"
"Yes, take them off!" Preston Summers barked. "Was it you who put them on?"
"I suppose you could say that."
"What the devil for?"
"You had better ask Amaril that when you get her home. Don't bark questions at her now, she's embarrassed enough already." Nigel unlocked a cuff then locked it along side its fellow on her other wrist. He pocketed the key and Amaril hid her hands in the jacket pockets.
A seaman, saluting smartly, reported the fishing boat free of drugs and totally devoid of other naked girls. Leaving a silent Nigel in charge, the party climbed into the dingy and made for the larger boat. To Amaril the humming of the engine sounded wonderful, it meant freedom. She, too, felt the vibrations of tension but did not care.
Preston Summers had thoughtfully brought a packed suitcase for his daughter. In the privacy of the captain's cabin the rescued girl excitedly bathed, dressed and fixed her hair. She looked beautiful. Under the eagle eye of a male parent an embarrassed young man fiddled with small tools to take the two locked handcuffs from Amaril's left wrist. She said her sweetest thank you and dropped them into the handbag she had found in the suitcase. It was wonderful to have a handbag again, she was not sure about the clothes!
Every one was polite, no questions were asked. Preston Summers listened to his daughter's confused account of adventures too incredible to believe, his eyes where somber, searching her consistently for answers to the questions he did not ask. The family Rolls was waiting at the dock and after it had whispered away the miles for more than an hour, Amaril exclaimed, "Why, Daddy, aren't we going home? We're going the wrong way for that...."
"There's something you and I have to settle first, sweetheart." His voice was both sad and firm. "Don't ask questions. We're going to unravel this whole thing properly." It took Amaril Summers the next hour to fully comprehend that she was considered insane and was on her way to one of the expensive and very private establishments where young women who's minds had broken under stress were dealt with. Nothing she could say had the slightest effect upon her father's loving inflexibility. The daughter of Preston Summers was going to get the best of care.
* * *
Amaril supposed the Restwell Institution must be ashamed of itself, it was so well hidden in a magnificent park land behind large trees. Within its seclusion the institution was modem and no doubt efficiently functional. The first thing Amaril noted about it was the barred windows and the solid sound of the door as it closed shut behind her back. Amaril had sat alone in a pleasant lounge while her father performed whatever functions fathers of deranged daughters have to do including, no doubt, signing a large check.
Their parting and Preston Summer's assuring of an early return for a visit would always be one of Amaril's bitterest memories. What was happening to her made no sense. Her protest was ignored. She was assured that a certain Dr. Norton would know all the answers and that she would find him a delightful man to deal with. When she noted a gleam in the attendant matron's eye at her increasing excitement, she put a curb upon her tongue and silently hoped Dr. Norton would have more sense than any of the rest. Silently making her own examination of the story she had to tell, she began to glimpse the pitfalls waiting in her path. Amaril watched her father's Rolls slide downs the drive way and then, in a docility she loathed, allowed the matron to take her arm and lead her upstairs.
Dr. Norton was sleek, a Rolls Royce among men. His smile embraced the world and the young woman to whom he was talking that moment. His voice held a fine ring of masculinity.
"I am honored, Miss Summers, that you father has chosen Restwell. I chose the name myself, it is symbolic of the attitude towards our guests."
Amaril was not sure of Dr. Norton. She refused to be defensive so chose the opposite. "Are you sure I'm a guest? I suspect I'm a prisoner."
Dr. Norton waved the vulgar thought away. He quickly seated Amaril in a comfortable armchair. His desk was a half acre of polished mahogany across which he now beamed at the young woman. His eyes seemed to wandered down to the rise and fall of her magnificent young breasts.
"You and I, Miss Summers, are well aware of the fears of those concerned with your mental well-being are not well founded. But they are based upon a series of extraordinary events, events such as most people would never believe, we must treat these concerns with respect and an intelligent response." Dr. Norton paused as though bowing to an unseen audience. "I trust you agree."
"If you say so."
"You're hostile towards me and that is understandable, Miss Summers. What I would like to do now is discuss your adventures step by step as they were told to me." The doctor visibly braced himself to cope with the outrageous and unmentionable. "First of all there was the matter of your kidnapping by a man of international renown, and immensely wealthy financier and owner of a fleet of freighters. The name of Mr. Karl Kypers is one to reckon with. Do you wish to continue to insist that he actually had you kidnapped?"
"Yes."
"And Mr. Kypers was suppose to have sought your father's secrets from your lips by suspending you by one ankle above shark-infested waters?" Dr. Norton sighed. "An act so improbable as to belong only in infantile comic books."
"It happened."
"Mr. Kypers then held you captive, subjecting you to various indignities, some extremely colorful, until his mistress aided your escape. Handcuffed and without clothing you swam to shore to encounter another name well known in the world of finance, Mrs. Elizabeth Hampton, who you state made you prisoner in the same manner as Mr. Kypers and subjected you to very much the same treatment?"
"That's right. I can provide details."
"I am sure you could! It appears then that Mrs. Hampton has a grandson with whom you enjoyed sexual congress. I presume this was a diversion you had enjoyed previously with Mr. Kypers?"
"Have it your way. Most people would call it rape."
"Quite so." Dr. Norton contrived to looked pained. "When you escaped from the place called Clifton you were arrested by the police of a small, nearby village. Before you were returned to Mrs. Hampton you received a whipping on your bare skin as a farewell... ? I hope, Miss Summers, you begin to perceive a pattern."
"Maybe you do but all I can see is a series of misfortunes for which I deserve some sympathy instead of an inquisition."
"And through all this you remained handcuffed without interruption?"
"That's right. The handcuffs pleased everyone but me. But even I finally got used to them."
The doctor's tone became sly. "And I understand these handcuffs now reside in your purse?"
"That's none of your business, but, yes, they do. You wish to make a big thing of it!"
"Of course not, my dear, it is simply one more piece in the puzzle, the definition of a pattern. After this you are suppose to have had future misfortunes in a prison in the town of San Miguel, sundry punishments and were more or less auctioned back into the care of Mrs. Elizabeth Hampton? You then made another escape with the help of a young woman named Donna Martin and swam out in shark-infested waters to rejoin Mr. Kypers ship...?"
The fine, rich voice droned on and one until Amaril wished she had said no word to anyone of the ordeals she had suffered. With a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach she realized how such a chronicle could seem the product of a disordered mind. She realized the less she said the better. When finally a maid brought coffee, she sipped it gratefully while Dr. Norton finally got down to what was, for him, the nitty gritty. He leaned forward for special emphasis.
"Why not admit to me, Miss Summers, that you are obsessed with a mental aberration commonly referred to as B&D, a commercial term used to describe bondage and discipline? Please be frank."
Once more Amaril beheld a yawning pit. She wanted to giggle about the B&D but this was no time for humor. Earnestly she said, "Don't you understand that all this time I was constantly told that I was a prisoner for life? When that gets home to you a girl adjusts as best she can. One of the things I adjusted to most easily was being handcuffed. Handcuffs don't bother you much after a while, you look upon them as a sort of bizarre costume jewelry." Amaril prudently provided a smile. "It was the same with the people, I got used to them, I had to."
"All these different ways in which you were bound or fastened, and, of course, continually handcuffed... Would you consider all this restrain with occasional whippings thrown in, as normal?"
"I didn't have anything to say or think about it. The people who kept me prisoner obviously thought they were a normal and proper condition to keep me in. Probably they were. No girl can be a prisoner without restrains." Amaril glared breathlessly. "I do wish you'd stop harping on these handcuffs. They were simply the most convenient way for my captors to keep me under control. It's discovering a significance that was not really there."
Dr. Norton accepted the blow without a tremor. "I suggest that now you should take these handcuffs from your bag and allow me to lock them upon your wrists. The use of a stethoscope will then give me clue to your reactions. Please do cooperate?"
"I don't want to be prodded with your damned instruments, the next thing I know you'll have me undressed." Amaril's alarm was evident. "Leave me alone, you know damned well I'm as sane as you are."
"Please, Miss Summers, do as I ask. This harmless experiment will be the first of the means by which I can declare you cured and sane. "
"I don't want to be handcuffed, you'll probably refuse to take them off and then I'll be in the same boat I just got out of."
"Please don't be difficult, I can easily ring for the matron. Miss Pembrie is extremely physical, and could easily subdue you."
It was useless and hopeless and Dr. Norton was probably a screwball. But slowly she reached into her bag for the steel circlets and their link of chain. Rising, she took them to the waiting man and, as if from long habit, meekly extended her wrists.
The suspect girl could not deny a thrill as male hands carefully clasped the steel bands click by click until they were snug upon her skin. She was curious as to whether Dr. Norton had handcuffed many girls or if this was his first adventure into bondage. Acidly she inquired, "Do you want me to sit or stand while you prod my chest?" Considering Amaril's previous permanent nakedness and handcuffed hands, there should have been no reason for her to blush. But blush she did as the cold stethoscope poked and prodded and sought the secret places around her breasts. She was ashamed of that blush, well aware it would be carefully noted and used against her. Doctor Norton nodded sagely to remark, "You are in a state of considerable excitation, Miss Summers, exactly as I supposed. I suggest to you that this fabrication, this colorful fiction you have invented, is nothing more than striving to make real the fantasies you have in your mind. I can well understand Mr. Kypers and Mr. Asbury humoring you in these desires." Doctor Norton paused a while for lull effect before continuing. "If these desires are persisting in your mind, you must be frank in telling me, and your proper course of actions would be a request to enact them with me or Miss Pembrie or Miss Gates as your co-workers. You have a ghost, Miss Summers, helps us lay it for you."
The pit at Amaril's feet loomed larger. Just as she had once longed for return to her parental home, she now desired more than anything to be magically deposited upon the deck of the Kypers' Queen, naked and handcuffed. Defiantly she searched for something really vulgar and voiced it, "Bullshit!"
Doctor Norton was visibly shaken. "I presume you picked up that vulgarity in your travels," he said icily. "When you are better established as one of our guests such a lapse will be subject to punishment. Please remember that. I will not ring for Miss Pembrie so we may take this increasingly sad affair one step further."
Miss Pembrie came fully equipped and only slightly bored. "The things we are going to do, Miss Summers, are far better achieved if you wear no clothes. Do you mind?"
"Of course I mind! I mind this whole damned thing. Look, I'm already handcuffed, and I was right when I said he wouldn't take them off. You notice I'm still locked in them. Would you care to take them off?"
Surprisingly Miss Pembrie did exactly that. She then reached for the shoulders of Amaril's dress. "I suggest that if you don't want this lovely thing tore to shreds you take it off yourself, my dear. Please don't try to fight us, we're only trying to help."
Amaril looked at her chaffed wrists. At least the freedom of her hands was one small, unexpected victory. If these people wanted to see her naked, well, what the hell! Miss Amaril Summers believed herself the most stared at nude in North America. Slowly she began to strip.
Miss Pembrie and Doctor Norton watched with somewhat more than clinical interest. Divested of every scrap of covering, Amaril clasp her hands behind her neck and stuck out her breasts in as provocative a pose as she could manage. Then she asked, "Well, is that what you want."
Miss Pembrie's thank you sounded sincere. Events then moved swiftly. First, a broad leather band laced outrageously tight around Amaril's middle. It was almost wide enough to be a corset but would not come off. At each side were straps and a few moments later her free hands were free no more, her wrists snug within buckled straps. Once again she was helpless, even more so than with handcuffed hand before her. Her fingers could not meet, her elbows stuck out behind. "It's called a 'hobble,'" Doctor Norton said kindly. "It is painless but effective. Now, once more the stethoscope."
Amaril wondered what they would do if she kicked but killed the thought, it would only confirm their opinions of her mental unbalance. It would have been nice to see Doctor Norton gasping and clutching his groin. But the naked girl allowed the opportunity to pass. The stethoscope sought every secret she possessed and provided the doctor with fresh ammunition. "You respond most amazingly, Miss Summers." He turned his attention to the matron. "Miss Pembrie, would you be kind enough to test this young woman's vagina?"
"It's wet," Miss Pembrie viewed a moist palm. "I'd say she was more than ready for a man."
"Don't be beastly." Amaril looked from one to the other. "I don't think you're doctors at all. I don't think this is a rest home or anything else. I think you get girls here to use us and enjoy our bodies. You're frauds!"
A brief nod passed between the master of Restwell and his senior nurse. Miss Pembrie said crisply, "Come along, Amaril, I have something to show you."
Amaril miserably guessed what the something would be. But the tuggings and pullings she had already tried had told her to total helplessness. She allowed herself to be led away.
"We do not usually feel the need to go this far with a girl's treatment this early." The voice of Miss Pembrie was purely informative. "But you, Miss Summers, exceed all bounds of common decency. Your accusations are uncalled for. A correction is in order. It will aid you to understand Restwell's insistence upon discipline and lady-like deportment."
Amaril was learning fast about Restwell. A collar buckled around her neck and a leash snapped to the posts between which she stood told her from long experience what came next. The blows with the leather strap across her back and around her waist hurt viciously. The sound of the leather impacts was daunting to a girl who was trying hard not to scream. The hobbled and collared girl wondered if screaming would do her any good, whether it would shorten this painful experience. But she still had her pride and using every ounce of self control said as evenly as possible, "This does no good, you know. My father will not like it when he hears of it. Can't you realize that everything I've said about myself and this place is true. Whip me to bits and it will still be true! " Amaril stood as bravely as she could until the steady beat of the leather upon her flesh brought the tears she could not hold back. Which was evidently what Miss Pembrie wanted for the whipping stopped, and she was tenderly kissed by lush, red lips.
"Are you ready to behave now, dear?"
"I'll do what you tell me, if that's what you want. I know when I'm licked."
The bedroom was plush. No mention was made of clothes or nightgowns. "A young woman, Miss Nancy Gates, will attend you," Miss Pembrie informed. "Please don't try to take advantage of her, she's very sweet but very wise and will report everything you say or do to Doctor Norton."
"Oh, all right," Amaril said irritably. "Look, will you please take these horrible things off my neck and tummy? They're far too tight."
"We think it wise you should wear them, dear. Miss Gates will look after your needs and give you a bath. In your present state of mind it is better that you stay under control. You have only yourself to blame."
Left alone within a locked door, Amaril wondered if this were true. Had she behaved outrageously? Perhaps she had. She spent a futile five minutes striving to unstrap her wrists but without success. She did not bother with the collar, that was obviously impossible. When Nancy Gates introduced herself, Amaril's first request was, "Would you be good enough to handcuff me instead of this contraption with its straps, buckles and laces? I'm not a lunatic."
Nancy Gates was pure gold. "I can't do that, Miss Summers," she said regretfully. "You have to stay strapped as you are for the night. But don't worry, I'll look after everything for you. They don't hurt, do they?"
"I suppose not... Except they're too damned tight. What is this place, a prison or a nuthouse or what?"
"It's mostly a place to look after young women who've made a nuisance of themselves at home," Nancy said with unexpected candor.
"They're usually sent to us for two or three months and at the end of that time are willing to do anything or say anything just to get back home and back to normal. Is that how it is with you?"
"Of course not! I don't know how it is with me, I wish I did. Is there any chance you'd help me escape?"
"I'm suppose to report a request like that to Doctor Norton," the youthful nurse said. "I won't this time. I know you're bothered and distressed and don't like being fastened. None of the girls like being fastened. But that's part of Doctor Norton's treatment, he's a great believer in fastening girls and he's got the facilities to do it in all sorts of quaint ways, most very uncomfortable. I always feel bad when I have to lock a girl in the pillory or stocks, or make her stand for hours with her arms in the air. You're going to see all this so I might as well tell you now."
"The pillory! The stocks!" Amaril stared aghast. "You mean that sweet-talking son of a bitch gets his jollies out of subjecting girls to mild torture! For Pete's sake, Nancy, get me out of here! I promise you'll never regret doing so. I've got lots of money of my own, I'm not dependent on Daddy."
Nancy looked distrait. "That's the second time, Miss Summers," she chided gently. "Would you like me to punish you now or would you prefer I reported your transgression to Doctor Norton?"
"You have to be joking!"
"No. I'm terribly sorry...." The two girls stared. There was not much difference in their ages, their reactions to a situation would be similar.
"You can't possibly mean you want to whip me the way Miss Pembrie did a few minutes ago?" Amaril's exclamation was loaded with disbelief. "Tell me that isn't so... I'm so blasted helpless!"
"It is so, Miss Summers. Every time you break the rules you will be punished. I think Doctor Norton would be satisfied with ten strokes upon this occasion and I'll be glad to give them to you if that's what you chose. If you want to make a fuss about it, you'll have to wait and tell him tomorrow. I should warn you he'll probably instruct one of us to inflect far more than ten. He's very severe when it comes to a girl trying to escape."
Nancy Gates eye's shown with sincerity but her voice let no doubt of intent.
"Oh, damn this place!" Amaril exploded. "Okay, okay, go ahead and whip me. I hope you don't mind if I scream. That bastard in the front office thinks I like being whipped but he's dead wrong!" There came a brief pause before she asked, "I suppose I have to be fastened some way...?"
"Don't worry about that, Miss Summers, I'll look after it." Nancy looked after it with great competency, bending her subject over a waiting chair and snapping her collar to a conveniently placed ring. Restwell was truly well equipped!
"Your poor bottom has been caned terribly, hasn't it? It was a cane someone used...?"
"Yes, it was a cane. Go ahead and cane me some more, if that's what you want."
"Miss Pembrie used a strap so I'll use a cane on you, Miss Summers." Nancy sounded as if she hated the whole affair. "I'll cane your thighs and a few places on you which don't seem to have been used too badly. Gosh, Miss Summers, please don't make me do this too often."
Nancy's cane was more painful than Miss Pembrie's strap. Amaril had reason to wish her bottom could have received it instead of those other parts of her person Nancy felt preferable. Her thighs hurt terribly as the limber cane bit and snapped and curled. Several other places selected brought the naked girl close to tears and screams.
"You were quite wonderful," Nancy enthused as she loosened the snap from Amaril's collar and helped her stand erect. "Some of the girls make an awful fuss but you did wonderfully. Please forgive what I had to do?"
"Oh, sure, I'll forgive you." Amaril was attracted by the girl's sincerity. "Somebody said something about a bath... Do you want to give me one since I can't do it myself?"
"Of course I do, you've got such a lovely body. Gee, Miss Summers, I wish I was as beautiful as you. I've never seen breasts as firm as yours. Most of the girls who get sent here are good lookers but there's none that can match what you've got. Come along."
The bath was a disappointment. "I can't possibly let you lay down, Miss Summers , and get that lovely harness all wet. It's too tight to dry underneath and will probably shrink a bit and get tighter. Now, if you'll just stand straight up in the bath, I'll attend to all your other places."
Standing with legs braced well apart while Nancy soaked the thighs she had so recently caned, Amaril felt only irritation and a terrible despondency. Nancy's hands were soothing and deliberately lingered tenderly within the pubic patch and over the red and tender cheeks, sighing often over the shameful marks of strap and cane, a sigh Amaril was uncertain how to figure. Her leather bonds kept her helpless and, although they did not hurt, they kept her far more humiliatingly helpless than handcuffs had ever done. So much had happened so quickly at Restwell that this was her first opportunity for her to reflect upon her father's belief that she was receiving the best of care while actually enduring one more captivity, this one without a trace of love or humor. Restwell had none of the excitement of Kypers' Queen or Clifton. It was a nothing place in which a girl's body was explored and used much as it would have been in grade school had some disagreeable young buck been allowed his way with it. Amaril was tired, tired of the whole damned thing. And, without protest, allowed herself to be chained by her neck to the bed to seek rest. Tomorrow was another day she would have to face when it came. But there was little hope for anything but shame and pain.
* * *
Doctor Norton viewed his latest patient with a satisfaction Miss Summers did not share. Amaril was trying hard to stare haughty into space, avoiding the doctor's eye. This was far from easy since her wrists and neck were locked fast in the heavy wooden pillory in which she had disgustedly stood for the previous two hours awaiting his august presence. She had refused to answer his first questions but was no so utterly at his mercy that he had but to gather a handful of her hair to turn her face to where she was forced to both look and pay attention.
"Let us start again," Doctor Norton said in a friendly voice. "Good morning, Miss Summers, I hope I find you well?"
"Good morning," her greeting was a strained politeness.
Doctor Norton freed the lovely head which immediately tried without success to shake away the damage his fingers had done. "Don't bother with your hair, Miss Summers, you look quite charming as you are. I trust you've give though to deportment and attitude?"
"Please, you've got me. I'm helpless, you can do whatever you like to me. What more do you want! " Her voice was as colorless and grey as her spirits.
"You're a difficult young woman but I will endeavor to give you a treatment with which I am sure you are all too familiar." Doctor Norton patted the disordered hair gently then disappeared from view.
The hand between her legs was a shock even though half expected. What followed made her long to scream but held her speechless in anger. But some means unseen, the yoke of the pillory slid lower to force the girl it held to bend and to separate her feet to avoid buckling her knees. When the machinery stopped, Miss Amaril Summers was held in a posture she recognized all too well. Unseen hands fondled her breasts as without warning an enormous male phallus nuzzled within her widely open cleft. It sought an entry Kypers or Nigel would have scorned. Amaril's protest turned to gasping dismay as Doctor Norton achieved his desire and thrust his rampant rod hard home within an orifice ill-prepared for such a visitation. Guiding his subject by firm hands clutching her hips he obtained motions such as gave him pleasure as he thrust and thrust again.
Amaril had never found herself so diminished or so drained as during those moments when the pillory once more rose to enable her to stand. She had seen nothing of the rape of her rectum but had winced bitterly throughout and had felt an infinite loathing for the approving pats on her bent curves when the ordeal was over. It was sometime before Doctor Norton came into view, no doubt he wished himself presentable.
"A fresh experience, Miss Summers?"
"Yes."
"What, gratitude!"
"Thank you for sodomy?" The imprisoned head glared contempt and defiance. "You must be insane. When my father hears of this...!"
The cane appeared from nowhere, supple and limber in male hands. Its tip was not extended to gently warn a female cheek.
"But no one will tell him, certainly not you, Miss Summers?" The threat was soft as silk.
"No, I suppose I won't." Amaril cared little for what she might be forced to say. "I don't suppose Daddy will ever know a thing about it."
"Charming, charming! With cooperation like that you may stand no longer than perhaps dinner time this evening."
A shock tensed Amaril within the yoke. "But that's the whole day!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "You surely can't expect me to stand like this the whole day through!"
"It is no more than our usual pillory punishment for a naughty girl, Miss Summers."
"It's inhuman. I'll faint and break my neck."
"I will visit you periodically and bring you comfort. You will not faint."
Amaril got the implication! "Please show me mercy," she muttered brokenly.
"Restwell will most certainly show you mercy, Miss Summers." The assurance was suddenly unctuous. "I will make sure you are freed at four pm. There, that's a genuine concession. It leaves you only five more hours... And considering my visits... ! You are really a very fortunate girl."
Amaril dared say no more.
Not all of Restwell's surprises were bad. Amaril's first day in the pillory was followed by the indulgence of being allowed to sleep late. It was not until mid day that, in the sweet simplicity of handcuffed nudity, she was taken to the same room with its instruments of torture. But she was led past the pillory which she had gotten so used to the day before and taken to the less frightening stocks.
"At least you do get to sit down, Miss Summers," Nancy Gates explained as she raised the upper half of the device by which a pair of captive feet would be clamped wide apart. "Please sit on the bench and rest your ankles in the little half circles."
Amaril dejectedly arranged her punished cheeks upon the massive bench to place her ankles as directed within the equally massive timber with the ankle holes. Her reaction was instant. "But they're so far apart, they stretch me wide open!"
Nancy prudently lowered the board and snapped the padlock closed. "I know, dear," she consoled. "It makes a girl feel terribly ashamed and... Well, exposed. But I guess that's the whole idea. You have to sit and can't hide a thing except your seat. Like I said, I really am sorry but I honestly think you'll be happier than yesterday." She grinned and patted her captive's cheek. "One of these days I expect Dr. Norton will forget about you and then there won't be any punishments at all."
"But, Nancy, I can't possibly sit like this all day. If my legs were any further apart, I'd split!"
"You know you won't. Miss Summers. You'll get adjusted and spend a nice, restful day. I don't mind telling you that Dr. Norton sometimes canes the soles of a girl's feet while she's held the way you are now. It's very convenient for that purpose. But I can tell you too that it won't happen today. I only mention it to show you how things can always be a lot worse."
Amaril took her word for it. Helped by handcuffed hands she twisted this way and that to adjust as best she could to an outrageous stretch and indecent exposure. She would be force to exhibit everything to anyone coming to view. But, at least, she told herself, she would no longer be sexually available the way she had been in the pillory. But then she remembered her mouth! There seemed endless ways in which a girl's body could be used for male pleasure. She said no word and if Nancy Gates noticed her blush, she asked no questions. The next shock was the handcuffs. They were unlocked and taken from front to back.
"They have to be like this, the doctor prefers it. It does make it a little more trying for you but nothing too serious."
Amaril tensed resentfully but said no word. She supposed herself far too timid, but it would do no good to fight. It would only distress Nancy and perhaps earn some fresh punishment. What she had to do was endure until her father's first visit, then things would be different. With the story she had to tell there was no doubt in the daughter's mind of being taken to the family home by a remorseful parent who would make amends and, hopefully, prosecute Dr. Norton to the hilt. Behind her back Nancy was achieving the snugness so much to be desired with handcuffed wrists. Having completed that task, Nancy Gates stepped away from the stocks in a freedom Amaril longed to share. The two girls eyed each other from different worlds.
"You look very sweet as you are, Amaril," Nancy Gates assured earnestly. "Forget about your pubic hair, and if you are thinking your lips down there are wide open, I can assure you they are not. Everything's nice and tidy. Would you like me to tickle the soles of your feet?"
"NO!" The negative positively exploded from Amaril's shocked lips. "Don't you dare!" The two girls shared genuine laughter. It said much for Nancy's personality that her captive could fine wry humor in her plight. Instead of tickling helpless feet the youthful nurse took position behind the bench and began to play with her victims-helpless nipples. Soon Amaril was soon approaching ecstasy. But suddenly she pleaded, "Stop it, Nancy, do stop. You've already got me excited and first thing I know I'll be aroused and the very last thing I want when I'm like this is an orgasm. " She shifted and tried to twist her breasts away from the affectionate cress of skillful fingers. "Oh, Nancy, please do stop. Please!"
"Okay, okay! You're beautiful to bring to a climax but I won't be a bitch about it today. I wouldn't want to be hot and bothered if I were where you are. Now, let me just have another look."
The fastened captive watched without concern as her companion circled the stocks several times in thoughtful regard. "I thought so! You're slumping, Miss Summers, and I expect you'll slump some more as time passes. Dr. Norton was insistent on this point so I'll have to use a rope to straighten your back. Don't worry, it's not going to be all that bad."
Amaril had little time to protest. The rope was already in place and snapped conveniently upon the single link between her hands to draw her shoulders back and raise her arms enough to compel erect posture. Her breasts became prominent as the arms rose. Wanly Amaril exclaimed, "Oh, Nancy, don't think of anything else, this is awful. And I don't see why...." Nancy placed a warning finger on protesting lips. She kissed a lovely forehead and went away to leave Miss Amaril Summers efficiently erect and posed but far from happy.
As silence gripped the room and the naked captive found herself totally alone, she sighed and started the rebellious small motions by which to test her bonds. There was, of course, no escape, no easement of her travail. Tractioned arms prevented a decent look at the shame between her thighs. There was no use in hurting her ankles in attempts to free her ankles, that was hopeless! Amaril spend a brief but painful minute striving to disconnect her handcuffs from the rope but that also was beyond her power. As with the pillory on the previous day there was nothing she could do but miserably endure. This craftily conceived punishment for a young woman certainly had Amaril's attention. And she doubted she would spend a very restful day. Some where Dr. Norton was chuckling to himself!
The loneliness with its sense of isolation soon became frightening.
Amaril longed to cry out against injustice but had enough sense to keep quiet. Soon she abandoned all motion, anything she did hurt. Even to the taking of a deep breath. It was not yet torture but might yet become such before the day was over. She puzzled over the care Nancy had taken at the behave of someone else in the matter of her positioning. There was an air of purpose she could not define. Restwell wanted her uncomfortable and exposed to show her nudity to best advantage. She realized her breasts were stuck out and the tummy pulled in. Nancy had given special attention to her hair. Wryly she wondered why the nurse had not also brushed her pubic triangle. The real killer was her old friends the handcuffs, who were friends no more as they exerted a steady pain to keep her tensely alert for the appearance of any person who might possibly come to unfasten her from this torture.
As was to be expected Dr. Norton took his time, allowing pain to soften up the young lady with whom he would have a pleasant chat. Amaril was actually pleased to see him for surely he would have the decency to lower her arms... ! But Dr. Norton was not alone, beside him walked a woman of thirty who viewed the strange chamber and its bizarre tableau with a vivid interest.
It was Amaril's stepsister Megan.
CHAPTER TEN - SISTER IN CAPTIVITY
Megan Summers never failed to dominate a conversation. She was shaken but had been warned by both her father and Dr. Norton. While the good doctor beamed benevolence, she stood beside the tractioned nude and bent to kiss her sister warmly on the lips. She showed no sign of shock and stepped back to stand beside the man when her greeting was done.
Dr. Norton was in good voice, his manner expansive. He spoke directly to Amaril: "Your sister and I have had a long talk, dear. I have briefed her on your fantasies and have arranged this one so she might have a visual representation of your needs. I have given her carte blanche in the matter of treating you within this room. She has the key to your handcuffs and the key to the padlock and may use them as she wishes. I have, however, requested that should she desire you have complete freedom within the Institute, she place your wrists handcuffed in front of you. I will now leave the two of you together." He showered them with love and his brightest smile. "I know you would like to be alone together, you will have much to talk about. It is possible your sister may stay as our guest overnight. Please be sure you spare her pain." With regal style she strode out the door.
Dr. Norton was instantly forgotten. "Oh, darling, am I glad to see you!" Amaril was suddenly very happy. "Get me out of this silly thing and take me home. Oh, I'm so glad it's you! Daddy seemed so strange-it was so very difficult to understand. " She paused uncertainly. "If you've got the handcuff key, I'd be so grateful."
With an air of thoughtful detachment, the older sister unclipped the rope to lower Amaril's arms and was rewarded with a huge sigh of relief. Continuing with her errand of mercy, she unlocked one cuff to bring both hands to the front. Amaril watched while they were once more joined. This time the sound of the ratchet seemed to the prisoner a normalcy. Her thanks were sincere as she clasped her pubic patch in embarrassment. She and the older girl had never been warmly, simply friends with the same father but different mothers. Amaril was about to start expressions of affections and fresh hope when Megan's dispassionate voice took charge.
"I'll like to unlock that wooden contraption you feet are in," she explained patiently as to one not entirely well. "But I've been brief about your enjoyment of these things and I'll not be a spoilsport. There is a chair I'll drag over and you can tell me everything you wish to. Believe me, I'll listen."
Amaril was speechless as she watched the placement of the chair and her sister's calm positioning of herself in the manner of a judge. A flood of indignation fluttered the words she wished to utter. "You've been told the lies and you believe them. Oh, Megan, I would have thought you would have more sense! Can't you tell the guy's lying, he's the biggest liar in the state!"
Megan gestured casually with one hand. She chose not to speak so Amaril continued. "He's not a doctor at all, he's a practicing sadist. This institute is full of girls who's parents he's duped into believing they need his treatment." Amaril snorted. "That treatment consists of whipping us, keeping us constantly tied up and using the orifices of our body as a cheap convenience for his pleasure. He's screwed me as much as four times in one day, twice up the wrong hole! Look at the horrible things you can see in this room! Look at this thing I'm fastened in! The man's a kook."
Megan nodded sagely. "Those stories you tell are hard to believe. I met the man when he tried to buy into our Triangle project and we turned him down. He seemed entirely civilized. But your story says he intended instead of you and intended to hang me up as shark bait until I agreed to give him what he wanted. Really, Amaril, my pet, that one's a bit hard to stomach."
"It sure was, he hung me up instead of you." Amaril snorted again. "Look, my darling sister, I hate sitting like this with my legs split wide apart. I don't want you seeing me like this. Please use that key."
"Just because I'm your sister?"
Under the influence of a creeping chill, Amaril declared, "Of course not! I wouldn't want anyone seeing me like this, especially that bastard who stares at my cunt the whole time he's in the room."
"That's not a very nice word, dear. Your manners have gone downhill in all these adventures."
"I don't care. I'll say some more four letters words if need be. Get me out of this thing so I feel like a girl instead of a remake of Jaws. " Megan battled with the padlock and then was massaging one ankle while the Amaril dealt with the other. The clink of handcuffs was the only sound until Amaril said, "Thank you, oh thank you! You've no idea how good this feels. And how good it is to have someone like you to talk to who believes what I say."
"I'm not sure I do believe what you say, dear."
"Well, you will." As if playing a tramp card Amaril displayed the glory of her beaten bottom. "Look at that! You surely don't think I enjoy getting my bottom marked up like this?"
"I have to wonder about that, too," Megan admitted thoughtfully. "You appear to have been whipped by everyone you've met since you've left home. It does stretch credibility a bit." She cocked an amused eye at her younger sister. "There's a lot of girls who like getting themselves whipped. I've read about it. In fact, I have an acquaintance, a girl who positively loves getting... But never mind that, it's a common enough sexual pleasure which I understand enhances the enjoyment of the act."
"Oh, Megan, if you had my bottom!"
"I wish I did have your bottom, dear. It's a most beautiful bottom. "
"You mean, you're willing to believe everyone but me?" Amaril demanded bitterly.
"Put yourself where I am now. What would you believe, darling?" Big sister's voice was vibrant with logic. Amaril did indeed strive to put herself in Megan's position and was suddenly overwhelms by shock as she realized that she, too, might disbelieve. Dr. Norton had made a most plausible explanation of everything. She wished Karl Kypers would stride into the room and whip her sister's bottom until Megan came to her senses.
But that was not going to happen. This disbelief meant that she would have to find some way to convince her elder sister of her integrity before being left once more to the untender mercies of the Restwell Institute. What she heard next shocked her to the core.
I gave this thing a lot of thought before I walked in her today," Megan advised quietly with a terrible seriousness. "In order to properly place myself in your position, I have asked Dr. Norton to allow me to join you as what he calls a 'guest' of the Institute. I'm to stay with you overnight and I'm to be handcuffed the same way you are. Someway I'll get to the bottom of this damned silly business."
Amaril stared in horror. "But, Megan darling, you're crazy! If you let that man make you a prisoner the way I am, you'll never get out of here - or is Daddy in town and have you warned him?"
"Well, no, he isn't. He's in Europe. But I've left word at the office. They know where to find me and I suppose there's a phone I can use. You've got me interested in this handcuff syndrome, let's see if I can figure it out."
"Darling, you mustn't let anyone here handcuff you or tie your hands or anything at all!" Amaril gave every possible emphasis to her warning. "If you've planted a notion like that in his mind, you'd best escape and take me with you. Why on earth can't you understand what I'm trying to say? The man's a nut, a screwball, a psycho!"
As though no word had reached her ears, Megan's quietly reasoned tone once more took charge. "Don't take on so, Amaril dear, you blow up so easily. I thought you'd be pleased to have me spend the night with you. And in a pretty much the same condition. Won't you get a charge out of seeing me nude and handcuffed?"
"No, I won't. I'll be scared to death. He'll find some believable reason to keep you prisoner. And once he's got you no one's going to get you out of here except Daddy and Daddy's far away. Oh, Megan, please try and see it my way."
"But, Amaril my sweet, I'm not going to be put in irons or locked in a cage. I've simply agreed to wear handcuffs just the way you are now. I'm quite sure this handcuff thing is just some fetish, perhaps some memory of childhood I don't know about." Megan laughed at her sister. "There has to be some sort of symbolism you attach to them. But so far as wearing them, it seem to me they wouldn't stop a girl doing anything. I think if you and I wanted to walk out of here with our hands locked that way, we still could. The real kicker about this walking out is not the handcuffs but being naked. I'm sure that has some sort of symbolism for you too."
"Men love having naked girls around," Amaril affirmed defiantly. "Megan, somehow I've got to stop you doing this crazy thing. It's going to prove my point, but it's no good proving my point if you're as much a prisoner as I. There's no telling what he'll do to you after making you prisoner, or how much he'll whip and cane you. It can happen!"
"I am the older sister, dear," Megan said. Megan was, as always, Megan. There might be a tenderness in her tone but there was also steel. "After all I am doing this for you, dear. You'll have to let me use my own judgment. I believe this test I've planned is rather helpful. If everything you've said is true, it's time I found out. You may walk out of here tomorrow a totally free girl, I do earnestly hope so."
"We won't either of us walk out," Amaril wailed dismally. "Do you have any idea what it's like when no body will listen to you or believe a thing you say? It's awful! It's the most awful isolation in the world. It's as if everything you say and are has formed around you a circle of disbelief from which you can't escape. I almost wish Karl Kypers had kidnapped you instead of me."
"More fantasy, darling?"
"Well, at any rate I wouldn't be a prisoner in the Restwell Institute right under the noses of my family. Don't you see that if you hadn't decided to visit today I'd still be fastened in that contraption he calls the stocks. There's a whole line of things he's got ready to try out on me. For what he calls rest and recreation I get whipped or fucked. Oh, Megan, don't you see what a spot I'm in?"
The frightened nude girl was gathered into a protective sisterly embrace. "Hush, you mustn't talk like that," Megan whispered into a rebellious ear. "Every time you get me half believing what you say you go and blow it with a four letter word or ridiculous accusation. Darling, cry on my shoulder a while and you'll feel better. I expect Dr. Norton will be joining us soon and we can get my amusing experiment under way."
Big sister patted little sister's shoulder. "Shush now, I don't want to hear another word."
The owner of the Restwell Institute was at his best. His quick eye noted Amaril's changed condition and Megan's stern air of purpose. He was a man greatly blessed. "It does me good to see you so much better. Has our charming guest decided to spend the night, Amaril?"
"Drop dead!"
The benevolence of Dr. Norton's good will absorbed Amaril's epithet as a sponge does water. His voice dripped with concern. "I fear you are finding being with your sister difficult, Miss Summers."
"I appreciate your concern, Doctor. And, yes, I will indeed accept your invitation. Amaril and I have been going at it and each other hammer and tongs and we've made some progress. I'm trying to understand her point of view and she's trying to see my position." Megan provided a tolerant shrugged. "You see it's difficult for the poor dear to understand why she can't simply walk out of her and go home. If I spend some time with her we can give each other a good going over. I will desire the full treatment as previously discussed."
"May I invite you both to dine?"
"Yes, thank you. That would be nice."
"And your sharing of your sister's fantasy, would you wish to begin that now or later?"
"I'd like to get started immediately, if that's convenient?"
"I agree, and, of course, it's convenient. My dear Miss Summers, you've no idea how delighted I am over your decision. Amaril is a lucky girl to have someone like you so interested in her case." Dr. Norton was pulling out all the stops and exuding charm in waves. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll go get another pair of handcuffs for you. While I'm gone you might find it desirable to remove your clothes."
"My clothes!" For a moment Megan looked vague, but she was not easily put off. She was again instantly in charge. "Sorry, I forgot. But you're right, it's something I have to do. It is very much a part of Amaril's fantasy as are the handcuffs. Yes, I'll be ready."
"You idiot!" Amaril stepped away to give her sister the benefit of her most severe glare. "You're throwing yourself to the lions. Good gosh, Megan, you don't want that man staring at your breasts and pubic hair, do you?"
"Not particularly," Megan replied as she removed her shoes. "But, after all he is a doctor, something you seem inclined to forget. Fortunately I'm not a very prudish person. At least Dr. Norton has been considerate enough to spare me from performing a strip tease in his presence." Megan pushed the dress from her shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor. "I can't compete with you, darling, but I'm sure I don't look all that bad without my clothes."
Dr. Norton's admiration for his new "guest" could not be hidden or doubted. His eyes shown in a nice blend of approval and honest lust. But he raised an eyebrow over the panties and bra still in place, insinuating gently, "But I thought we had agreed upon the 'all together'?"
Megan had sought a small advantage but was not prepared to fight over it. "I like you term, 'the all together.' I don't suppose anyone has used it in years. But it says so much without saying anything at all. Do you insist?"
"I insist."
Watching her sister remove her last two barriers between male and female Amaril realized she was also beholding a well done strip tease. This was a side of Megan not previously revealed, but it's innocence was so highly skilled that the watching girl was compelled to admiration and the quiet supposition of something being held up in Megan's nonexistent sleeve. The bra yielded its twin treasures with a shy reluctance only equaled by the undulations with which the panties were pushed down below the hips. When it was done, Megan clasp her hands behind her neck and turned back and forth slowly for full effect. "I trust you approve, Doctor?"
"Magnificent!" There was no doubting Dr. Norton's approval, as he stood holding the handcuffs.
"Before using those things you're holding, Doctor, I must inquire about servants at dinner. I would not wish to be looked at by a male?"
"I have already assured this," Dr. Norton said with a touch of reproof. "I would not dream of subjecting you to embarrassment."
"I'm assuming it is actually your wish to have us as guest at dinner sans clothes and sans freedom?" Amaril wondered at the twinkle in her sister's eye.
"Naturally. Once you have become the character it is desirable you do not break the thread. And now the handcuffs...?"
"Of course, I have decided to leave you two alone immediately they have been locked upon your wrists. I wish to embarrass you two as little as possible. Since you do not share your sister's pleasure in such things I will give you time to adjust. Now, if you will extend your hands...?"
Megan was well ahead of the request, her smile amused as she extended her innocent hands. Visibly she braced herself for the cold contact of the jaws the doctor held invitingly.
Amaril was certain the doctor was savoring every move and clicking the ratchets deliberately slowly to prolong the experience. At the end and with male and female eyes full locked in enigmatic speculation, he clicked each cuff one more time to insure it being tight and snug. His sight when the task was done was clearly audible.
"You are quite wonderful, Miss Summers, almost beyond belief." A moment later he was gone.
Neither girl said a word. The air was electric in the hushed stillness of the room as Megan raised the steel circlets on her wrists to the level of her eyes. Perhaps now the realization was running through her head that these would remain on until someone else chose to remove them. Testingly she twisted and turned and finally, with fingers wide spread, tugged to the full tolerance of the single link. It was a very small distance in which she tried again to twist and turn and endeavored to slip the shinning chrome up and down her wrists without success. Dr. Norton had done a neat and tidy job.
Next Megan allowed her hands to fall to just above her pubic hair but found it an unattractive pose and experimented with holding them at her naval then at her breasts. Each pose had a quality of its own and Amaril once more suspected her sister of an wish to look good in Dr. Norton's eyes. No doubt her older sister was fascinated with discovery.
"It's me who's suppose to be in love with handcuffs, not you, Megan," Amaril said pettishly. "Damn it, darling, I think you're in love with them!"
"Don't be silly, I'm just testing," the President of the Triangle Corporation snapped back. "You of all people should know how difficult they are at first. I can't find a single way to hold them without feeling foolish. You've made it look natural but I have got that far yet. Give me time."
"Your loving doctor will make sure you've got plenty of time." Amaril was discovering Megan nude and Megan handcuffed an immensely greater subject for admiration than Megan clothed and going about business affairs. She said so, "Are you trying to get me horny? You're the most seductive creature I've ever seen the way you're wiggling. Why haven't you ever taken your clothes off before?"
"Did you take yours off for me, darling?"
"Oh, all right. But there's no need to practice seduction here. That son of a bitch will screw you to a fare-thee-well without even a please or thank you. Darling, you're in for the most awful shock when he refuses to use that little key in his pocket."
"That's a bridge I'll cross when I come to it. But that's a bridge not likely to happen. Amaril, I do wish you'd stop dreaming." Amaril sighed, aware of a terrible premonition she could not share with the girl still busy admiring her new bracelets. "Look, darling, if the doors actually unlocked, shall we go to my bedroom? I've been tortured here just enough to give me the willies."
The door was unexpectedly unlocked, due no doubt to the doctor's concern with his image. He would allow Megan to play out her experiment before lowering the boom. The younger girl suddenly realized she possessed a greater freedom now than at any time since coming to the Institute. Impetuously she placed two imploring hands on her sister's bare arm. "Megan, darling, let's make a run for it. We've nothing to loose and we might just make it. Come, let's hurry." Inspiration was rewarded by the clutch of strong fingers. "Don't be ridiculous." Megan was firm. "There's no reason to run and certainly not while I'll got this experiment under way. So far I'm enjoying the whole thing."
"You stay here then, I'm making a quick leap into space. Damn it, Megan, if you only realized what a golden opportunity this is. I suppose he was too excited over chaining up you to remember to lock us in. He was staring at your tits and twat."
Megan's hold tightened. "If you do this silly thing, I'll scream. And I'll hold on to you. I don't suppose you're stronger than I am so come to your senses and behave."
Amaril deflated. It was simply no use. Unhappily, she said, "You can let go my arm. We're both making a terrible mistake but I can't prove it to you. Imagine the feeling when your own sister won't help you escape-good gosh!"
The bed and bath were delightfully feminine and intimate. Tensions eased as they found a place to sit. Pointing at the waiting collar and chain, Amaril demanded, "How'd you like to wear that every night, locked to the wall like a puppy dog!"
Megan sniffed. "I think it's a stage prop. But even if you got it locked around your neck, I'm sure you do deserve it. Looks like overkill to me."
"Okay, okay! So I can't win today, but wait until tomorrow! I don't want to fight with my sister over my freedom so what else would you like to talk about?"
Megan was still making a play with the steel upon her wrists but her motions were now abstract in acceptance. "This has to be crazy but what I'm most concerned about are my decisions over you," she admitted thoughtfully. "Whether I walk out of her tomorrow with you beside me or leave you here, there's as tremendous weight of decision I have bear. Daddy failed to get the whole picture. He did what he thought best and neither of us have yet proved him wrong. But you're going to want terribly to come home with me, won't you?"
"Of course! But don't worry, darling, we're neither of us going anyway." Amaril spoke as if loosing interest.
"I wish you'd drop that negative attitude, dear. But never mind, I expect things will straighten themselves out."
"Sure they will!" Amaril agreed with false cheer. "We'll both of us be straightened out inside a cage or standing in the pillory or tied to a pole some place. Restwell is a marvelous place for a girl to get herself well straightened out. You wait and see."
It is difficult for conversation to flourish when each party is obsessed by divergent conviction. The two sisters did their best but were relieved when the doctor's call for dinner came. Even then Amaril contributed little, being content to watch her sister learnings to use two hands instead of one. But Megan dealt with this small problem with her usual competence. Even during conversation making light of her loss of freedom.
"I'm surprised Amaril has not demanded chained feet," she said in reply to Norton's praise. "Have you any other items in that line I could try out without feeling an absolute idiot?"
"Your neck will be collared and tethered to the wall while you sleep, Miss Summers," the doctor advised cheerfully as if speaking of an extra cover on the bed. "This conforms with your sister's ideas about such things. We have kept her thus secured every night,"
"Very well, Doctor. Amaril did speak of it but I thought she was joking. I'm sure I will be amused with it just as I am of these things you're watching so closely. Waiting for me to spill something?" Megan's voice was recognizably mischievous. "Are you quite sure you have nothing for my feet?"
"If you insist, I expect we can find something."
"Please do. I won't be here that long and I want to make a through test." Megan was every bit the executive. "I would, of course, appreciate each of us being treated in a similar fashion."
"Even though you sister may merit the whipping of her bottom?" The good doctor could be equally mischievous, even while slipping in a bombshell.
"I should share that, too? Let us not dwell in fantasy," Megan said stiffly. "We must not allow my desire for authenticity to intrude upon common sense. In any case, I don't believe all these stories about whipping and canings and the like. I am not yet certain how Amaril's bottom came to be so bruised and discolored. I am assuming it was done by her consent. But we will discuss this further." She shot a sharp look across the table. "You truly are enjoying seeing me handcuffed. I am assuming some sexual attraction which leaves me cold, and which I regard as a statistic in my research. I do hope you will not humiliate me by a similar scrutiny when I am put to bed?"
Dr. Norton, visibly on his mettle, was equal to the jib. "Ah, Miss Summers, you are forgetting an important connotation. You are suppose to be a prisoner and as a prisoner would have nothing to say about whether I look at you or not. Do I make myself clear?"
Megan stopped eating to raise and examine her ironed hands and cock and inquiring eye back at him. "You mean," she said, "I am already past the point of no return?"
"Indubitably!"
Megan absorbed the male declaration without surprise. She frankly laughed. "I'll tell you straight, Doctor, these handcuffs seem to me a totally inadequate control. If I now chose to run for the exit. I'm not a bit sure you could stop me."
"Would you care to try?"
"Yes, I know. You appear to hold all the cards. I am suppose to hold none. Let's leave it at that." Megan Summers was obviously feeling her way on unfamiliar ground.
Amaril sat entranced by the give and take. She was sure she knew the outcome of the game and could therefore watch the playing of it without concern. She quenched a mental vision of her sister well bent and well bound, receiving twenty strokes of the cane upon her bottom with the proper act of sodomy when it was done. She had to wonder if the thinking was wishful or simply a reflection of the obvious. Meekly she inquired, "May I go home with my sister tomorrow, Dr. Norton? I most certainly wish to and I told Megan of this wish. I am making this a formal request."
"Don't be a brat, dear," said Megan, waving off Amaril's comments. "We'll deal with this tomorrow. For now I have an understanding, leave us alone."
Amaril resentfully left them alone as requested. It was bitter gall to watch her sister blissfully walk into a trap she could do nothing to prevent. The rest of the evening was spent with brandy and debate while Amaril ostentatiously contrived to go to sleep upon the couch. At bed time she sleepily followed her companions to the bed and the shameful locking of the collar around her neck. She turned to watch her sister receive this added shame, an imposition Megan cheerfully accepted without comment. So far as Megan was concerned she had accepted the collar and chain, and that was an end to it.
Spurred by frustration, Amaril demanded, "I thought our feet were to be chained as well? Aren't you forgetting?"
No one had forgotten anything. Dr. Norton must have written a note because the chains or leg irons or whatever you they wished to call them were ready and waiting. In pure astonishment Amaril raised herself up on one elbow to view the span of links and the shinning metal bands appearing as if by magic upon her ankles. In dull despair she said, "You are an absolute son of a bitch, aren't you Dr. Norton?" She let her head fall back upon the pillow. Nothing mattered, she couldn't escape anyway!
"The dear child constantly tried to provoke me," Norton confided to the elder sister as she, too, received the chains upon her ankles. "I judge her motives to be to seek punishment. She constantly resorts to this ruse in her efforts to earn an application of the cane. I'm giving this matter considerable thought and how it may best be dealt with. There is no discomfort with this these I have done with you, is there?" - "Thank you, Doctor, everything is fine." Megan was in charge, even while naked and chained hand and foot. "I am really grateful for the trouble you are taking but when you have looked your fill and ogled my nakedness enough, I'd appreciate it if you would go away and let us sleep. I've found this an emotionally tiring day."
Dr. Norton looked his fill. Megan evidently understood him completely. But he was evidently mature enough to understand how far he could push the guest prisoner. Feeling cheated, the doctor left them to their sleep.
Amaril greeted morning with accelerated heart beat. She would win one toss and lose another. It was Nancy Gates who attended them and brought their breakfast. She unlocked their collars but refused to free their feet, stating she could only do such things at doctor's orders. Megan paid no attention to Amaril's snort of disgust. At the appointed time Dr. Norton breezed in and beamed at the two naked girls. He found two sisters very much at odds with each other. Each greeted his arrival in her own way.
"Unlock these handcuffs and leg irons and let us go home." This from Amaril.
"It's been a truly wonderful experience, Dr. Norton, I truly am grateful." This from Megan.
The doctor positively glowed with victory. In a Victorian novel he would have poured out something like, "And now, me proud beauty, the time has come." He decided not to use such a line, but the thought was there. Instead, he looked directly at his victim's sexual attributes until Megan testily exclaimed, "Really, doctor, isn't that enough? I am getting tired of your eyes lingering on my sex. May I have my feet unchained now, I am due back at the office in about an hour?" The doctor continued his enjoyment of everything Megan had to offer. He carried this scrutiny to such a degree as to drive Megan into more protest. "And these handcuffs, they've been quite wonderful but they've served their purpose. Please, if you wouldn't mind...?"
"Do you now?" It was as though Norton observed something wrong in feminine freedom. He smiled warmly and said, "I am at this moment having delivered to your office a letter explaining a protracted absence. It is the one you unwittingly signed when you signed those waiver papers for you 'short' stay as a guest patient here."
Once more Amaril's delight was tempered by the spirit of "I told you so" and black despair at confirmation of her premonition. Trying not to sound pleased, she snapped, "I told you so, Megan. The son of a bitch is now showing you his true colors. You're now his prisoner the way I told you. It's no use struggling, it's far too late."
Megan struggled. She thrust joined hands at the face of the man who held the key to them and demanded their removal. Her motions were those of an angry woman. Panting and scarcely believing what she had heard, she demanded, "I insist upon instant release! I am hoping what I just heard is nothing more than a joke in bad taste."
"No joke, Miss Summers. In a minute I intend to give you a thrashing, which I suspect is long overdue. I will then fuck you in all the ways a girl can be fucked. What you need is humiliation, and I intend to provide it. Now let's have your protests. I am sure you have a few." Megan had many protests, all accented by a futile kicking at the chain between her ankles and the shaking of handcuffed fists at the dominant male. At the end, she paused. "The police will be here by noon," she said, not believing her own words.
"There will be no police. I have looked after such details, either by phone or by your forged signature. At this moment you have lost identity and control. As I said, you are soon to be thrashed and sexually dealt with. When the time comes for your release in a few weeks, you will have learned your lessons and will make no complaint. The Restwell Institute will have made one more conversion to the faith."
"You son of a bitch, let me go, let us both go! You can't do this!"
"I'm already doing it, dear lady. I suggest you prepare yourself for your first thrashing. I intend to lay the cane across your ample posterior with all the vigor at my command."
The two girls stared, speechless, but their emotions were not the same.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - ENDLESS PUNISHMENT
Dr. Norton was content to gloat over his victory in silence. Neither girl seemed to have anything to say. There was little doubt that the older girl was shattered, broken by her loss of authority and the sudden realization of a great mistake. Megan tugged angrily at cuffed wrists and kicked at chained ankles, neither act changing her condition one iota. There was only the sound of chain in the room.
Angrily, Megan burst out with, "I demand release! I demand an apology. I expect to be home by noon."
"Oh, shove it, sis," Amaril said disgustedly. "You're a prisoner-you might as well get used to it. I gave you the chance to walk out yesterday, but you knew too much. I was just a disillusioned kid. This bastard means what he said about that thrashing. I believe among the inmates it's known as 'The Welcome.' You'll get another just before your release-'The Farewell.' I hope your enjoy them both!"
"Perhaps we should adjourn to the appropriate place." The doctor's suggestion was little more than a whisper The thrashing of the President of Triangle Corporation, was no small potatoes. Upon arrival at what the doctor had called "the appropriate room," Megan broke into tears, sobbing on her sister's bare shoulder and confessing her terrible error in judgment. Amaril comforted her as best she could, but what is there to say to a girl about to be severely whipped? The only thing that girl wished to hear was a reprieve, and Dr. Norton certainly not grant that. What he desired most was the thunk of leather upon the bound flesh of the feminine senior executive. He dried Megan's tears with his best handkerchief while ringing for the services of MP.
It was the wickedest set of strictures by which a naked girl can be held. The chains had been taken from Megan's feet to enable the wider spreading of her legs. Her wrists had already been bound, raised, and spread wide to a heavy wooden frame. Now, with the obscene spreading of her feet and the binding of ankles to rings in the floor, the corporate head of yesterday was reduced to the pleading naked woman of today.
"You still have a chance to end this, Doctor, before I consider it at a level requiring police action. If you send Amaril and me home immediately, I will not prefer charges."
"That's very white of you, my dear, but I could not possibly free you without first instilling some humility in that hard head. You are a spoiled bitch, who I intend to reduce to size."
Megan shifted in disbelief against the cord which held her in an obscene exposure she found hard to believe. She was also closing her mind to the knowledge of pain to come. Surely this absurd quack had to be agreeable to some sort of persuasion. But first she tried her sister who stood as a spectator, hands cuffed and feet chained. "Talk to him, Amaril, make him see how wrong this all is! Make him understand the terrible consequences."
"Think I haven't tried! I don't have any more influence with him than I have with you. I repeat, I told you so. I wish I didn't have to watch what you're going to get."
Megan had become an erotic exhibit. The frame held her tight, but she tried small motions of revolt against the cords, her nudity twisting in despair. For the young executive it was a case of too much too soon, and Megan was lost. It would probably be a long, long time before any employees began a serious inquiry into her whereabouts. Her voice suddenly broke.
"Doctor, I beseech you, be sensible. No female body is worth the price you will have to pay for mine. Please, please set us free."
Amaril was certain the doctor was harboring a massive erection. He now took this scene one step further. With studied carelessness, he produced the supple leather strap and held it against her ripe, red lips. "Kiss it."
"I will not!"
The blow was swift and sure. It snapped across the waiting curves, bringing their owner down one more step to degradation. "I can't stand it! You must have to desist!"
After her first shocked gasp, pain spreading throughout her being, Megan was ready to believe she might be fighting for her very life.
"Sorry, no can do," Dr. Norton said with a smile towards the other sister. "Amaril, perhaps you would be good enough to keep count? Your sister gets ten with the strap before we move on to the cane. If you miss a count, she gets it over."
Megan gritted her teeth and got what comfort she could by jerking against the cords. The bite of bonds was only a tiny measure compared to the impact of leather with its frightful sounds. Tears came to her eyes. Between strokes she tried to point out how impossible it was to endure even one more blow. The doctor pointed out that she was enduring the impossible remarkably well. Off to one side, the voice of little sister droned out the painful numbers one by one. When Dr. Norton finished with the strap, he went on to the cane, taking his wide-eyed, panting patient into fresh worlds of pain.
"No need to count anymore, Amaril, my dear," he assured in a voice oozing kindness. "I intend to whip your sister's bottom until I consider her sufficiently well marked. Move a trifle to the left for a better view." Megan found it hard to understand why she continued struggling to free herself. All her efforts had gotten her no place, and worse, had excited Dr. Norton by erotic motions and the picturesque coloration of her bottom. The cane beat steadily, biting the air with wicked sounds. Megan moaned steadily, turning wide eyes back over a bare shoulder to seek the mercy she would not find. When the doctor was satisfied his initial work was complete, he untied Megan and used the waiting steel to fasten her in the same manner as her sister. Without a word, he left his two prisoners alone in disarray.
Amaril longed to put her arms around the striped woman to comfort her, but was prevented by the handcuffs behind her back. Megan was fighting for breath, feeling only shame and pain. Finally she admitted, "Oh, Amaril darling, we need our arms. The rotten son of a bitch has fixed us like this on purpose."
"Put your head on my shoulder and try to weep the pain away. We can't touch, but we can rub our tits together. Megan, I'm so terribly sorry." It took a little while for Megan to get back to normal. To sit was unthinkable, so she ended up with her head in her sister's lap as Amaril sat on a kitchen chair. Their view was limited to Dr. Norton's engines of punishment in that depressing, soundproof room. Unpleasant as their chains might be, they gave relative freedom compared to the silent horrors around the walls. If only Megan had had more sense!
The series of crashes which broke the piece of the Restwell Institute like the sound of cannons tensed both the girls into attention. There was no time for words before the door to their prison was kicked open by a massive foot and a blonde giant strode in. One quick glance was enough. "Well, I'll be damned!" The visitor scooped a girl up in each arm to carry them in triumph through a shocked institute to a waiting car.
Karl Kypers had come to reclaim his own.
The brig of the Kypers' Queen enfolded the sisters in the heaviest of irons, leaving leave Megan appalled at fresh bondage and Amaril quivering in excitement. She also couldn't stop wondering which of them Karl would take to bed that night.
The first contact of Megan's whipped bottom with a hard surface had been achieved when huge hands lifted her up and plumbed her firmly down upon the bench before placing considerable weight of iron upon her naked body. She sat, head buried in her hands, quietly weeping against a sisterly shoulder as bare as her own. Megan treated her sister's assurances of good things to come with the contempt she felt certain they deserved.
"I suppose you're used to this, but I'm so ashamed of being looked at like this. No one has the right...."
"It's a damn sight better than that sleek asshole of a doctor with his lousy institute. No one was going to set me free anyway, so I'm better off back here."
"I would have done it, I would have taken you home."
"Sure, you would. Too little, too late. No one's going to find us here, so you'd better make the best of it. Karl won't let you loose because you'd go right to the police. I'd try to please him if I were you. If you don't, he'll sell you for some shockingly huge sum of money. I had no idea girls were worth so much until I was kidnapped."
Amaril knew herself getting a satisfaction from Megan's downfall. The older sister had already recanted disbelief, imploring forgiveness for having doubted her younger sister's honesty.
"What do you mean by 'pleasing him'?" Megan asked. "I suppose that means making my body available for whatever he asks. Will he whip me?"
"I'll ask him to whip me instead," Amaril offered generously. "He's not whip happy like that idiot at the Restwell Institute. But I'd suggest you ask him to whip you just to strike the right note from the start.
"But I don't want to be whipped!"
"Of course you don't. But if you ask sweetly enough, he'll probably be disarmed and you won't get whipped at all. If you show resentment, you'll get your bottom whipped to a frazzle."
"I've never spent such a terrible night. Fastened like this I can't even hold you in my arms. The man's a monster."
"No, he isn't-he just likes girls. He's always had a girl aboard this ship, and I'm sure he'll make damned sure we don't get away."
"We've become sex objects for his pleasure, is that it?"
Amaril's reply was lost by the noisy opening of their prison door. The man who entered was neither Kypers nor a member of his crew. It was Nigel Asbury who grinned from one to the other. "Welcome home, Amaril, my pet! Who's this pretty creature trying so hard to hide her twat?" Amaril was embraced and kissed, strong male arms doing everything hers could not. Behind them, Megan was striving hopelessly to cover her private parts. The best her irons would permit was to clutch frantically at her pubic area. Amaril could not refrain from giggling while aware of the incongruity of introductions. She was glowing and warm from the heat of Nigel's pleasure in seeing her again. Nigel's first remark was typical. "You needn't hold on to that thing, Miss Summers, I'm not going to steal it."
"Go away, you mustn't see us like this. Call the police."
"Doesn't she understand the facts of life?" Nigel inquired. "Any one whip her bottom yet to get the circulation going?"
"Nigel, she's my sister, Megan. Please help her. I know you're not going to turn me loose but it wouldn't hurt for you to return her home. She'll never make a good slavegirl, she'll always be in trouble."
"Not so fast, my pet!" Nigel gently squeezed Amaril's arm. Then he planted a kiss on top of Amaril's head. "Pure coincidence I'm here. We've been negotiating over Donna and we've reached the point to consider tossing a coin to see which of us got her. Oh, by the way, Karl sends his regards. He'll get around to you as soon as he can. It seems we were one girl short, now we've one too many. Karl says I should try your sister out and, if I decide to keep her, then we can sell either Donna or you. On the other hand if she doesn't cut the mustard... And the way she's clutching her female treasure I've got my doubts. Anyway, if the broad's no fun in or out of bed, I'm sure we can get a good price for her some place."
"Nigel, I think you're teasing. You're scaring Megan to death," Amaril reproved with the comforting mental reservation that if she got herself whipped for imprudence, it would probably have happened anyway. "Nigel, darling, can't you get these irons off us. We would seem much more like girls if we were simply handcuffed."
"I was thinking the same thing, my pet, but about you not here. Karl's offered us the bedroom, what say we use it?"
"But I thought you wanted to try out my sister? You already know about me."
"You first, sweetheart, you're the best lay on the Pacific. Donna does her best but she's not in your class. Here, let me use this key."
Megan was shocked to the core. "When you're quiet done with my sister, I'd appreciate a bit of freedom, too," she interjected sharply. "Amaril, the way you talk makes me ashamed. Surely you don't mean this man can have intercourse with you any time he gets the notion?"
"Of course he can, I'm a slavegirl. Any female who comes aboard the Kypers' Queen automatically comes into slavery. Any man who tells be to lay down and open my legs - well, I have to be obedient, I can't possibly refuse."
"Of course you can refuse. You're acting and talking like a loose woman. I'm almost ashamed of being your sister."
Nigel was enjoying himself. Two beautiful, both heavily ironed, and his selection. Megan had managed to stand erect the better to express indignation. Nigel now caught sight of her flaming rump and felt the flare of lust such visions always invoke. Such marks as Amaril's skin currently display faded into insignificance besides her sister's coloration.
"Don't knock it, sister, if you haven't tried it," Nigel addressed the flaming cheeks of this new girl. He was beginning to feel serious interest in her body. "Don't tell me you've never been fucked!"
"Don't be disgusting."
"Okay, I'll follow Amaril's advise and try you out. If you're not in the mood, I can always borrow a cane and warm you up. I like to act the gentleman so I'll leave the two of you alone for Amaril to brief you on the mechanics and protocol of being laid. I won't be away long."
Amaril's cheeks were now as scarlet as those of the girl who's reproachful eyes were hard to meet. Lamely she asked, "Do you really want me to tell you things, I mean the way Nigel suggests? Damn it, Megan, I'm so frightfully sorry. I know how you must feel, but Nigel means every word he said. It took me quite a while to think and act as a slavegirl should. You'll take a lot longer." Amaril sought for the proper words but there were no proper words for a young woman who three days ago had been the chief executive of a major corporation but was now facing an enslavement she would probably hate. Amaril was force to suppose her own character held defects but drew comfort from her memory of the cane and the whip and the strap. To say nothing of chains and iron bars. It had taken all of these over a long period of time to bring her to where she was actually happy to be ironed in the brig. She devoutly wished her sister back at home.
Megan had evidently doing serious thinking. "Okay, tell me about it, tell me what I have to do to avoid being whipped. I don't ever want to be whipped again. Oh, darling, I feel such a bitch over not believing everything you told. I probably deserve everything I'm going to get."
The younger girl found herself consoling her elder sister, speaking sagely of chains and cords and whips, but more of the spreading of feminine legs and of certain motions of the hips by which a girl anxious to please could upgrade her performance in bed and thus earn merit in male eyes. When Nigel returned he wasted no time in unlocking Megan's irons, replacing her handcuffs and leading her out into the sunlight. He winked at Amaril on the way and made a point of heavily slamming the brig door.
It was very lonely in the metal box called the brig. So much had happened, but now there was only silence. Partly to break that silence, Amaril raised her shackled hands as high as they would come to examine all the metal which was keeping her in a submissive frame of mind.
Poor Megan, everything she had heard must have sounded outrageous or downright cruel. With a faint grin Amaril realized Megan's greatest hurdle would be sexual. Any love she had previously enjoyed would be in the lap of luxury as she was serviced by adoring males who would be deeply conscious of the honor they were receiving, and somewhat awed by the immense wealth he might gain by the spreading of Megan's legs. It would be very different now!
Amaril knew herself piqued by Kypers' offhand greeting by way of Nigel. She wondered what Karl would do to her or with her when he got around to it. Supposing it was she who got sold! Amaril set the thought aside and then shed a few tears of pure self-pity as she realized how Megan had unwittingly captured the spotlight she had previously enjoyed alone. This self- indulgence was rudely interrupted by the opening of the door. Karl Kypers did not bother with greetings.
"Crying? Feeling sorry for yourself? How'd it be I warm your ass?"
Amaril sought to wipe away her tears, a project that required her to bend over to the level of her knees to reach her hands. Kypers laughed at the quaint posture thus created. He lifted her up and dried her eyes himself. When the heavy irons had fallen away beneath his key, she leaped on her lord and master in a terrible thankfulness for his strength and his obviously warm concern. Kypers gathered her up like a child and for a little while they held each other in a passionate need to feel familiar flesh. Amaril then meekly extend hands for the old, familiar handcuffs. Her manner might have been meek but there was a beating heart within her breast and a tingle running down her back. Without further ado her master picked her up bodily and carried her to the bedroom where they would make their love.
Amaril's world was complete, all else forgotten. As if she had been snatched from this erotic heaven only the day before, she found the cane and bent over in a strange mixture of docility and mischief to touch her toes and cock an upward glance at the amused and entranced male.
"Please warm my ass, Master. Please whip me."
The erotic stimulation completed to mutual satisfaction, Amaril was allowed to stand and rub her flaming bottom cheeks. "Gosh, you hit hard," she said without complaint.
It was a beautiful, wonderful game they played together without thought of the past or the future. Amaril was picked up and tossed on the bed where her wealed skin rubbed against the covers in an uncomfortable yet exciting way. Her legs were roughly thrust apart and bent up at the knees to form the portal at which the male had entered into women since time began. From that moment the chained nakedness of Amaril Summers was transported among the constellations of the stars upon the magic carpet of the man she called "Master."
Amaril s journey into the magic places of both the heart and flesh seemed to never end. No sooner was she scorched the heat of the sun then she was transported back to earth in a vortex of delight. The journey then began again, over and over in an endless ecstasy.
The aftermath was total draining of her energies in which she lay supine, join hands clenched above damp and scented hair in total surrender to her lord. Her legs were still spread. Which made it easy for Karl to begin again a teasing of her sex with his skilled fingertips. She discovered fresh energies she would have denied existed. Once again she flared into a mass of erotic incandescent.
The day was young. Kypers had dedicated it to repossession of his slave and in mischief used her as he would. Producing wide adhesive tape, he bound her ankles tight in neat but cruel bands she could never break. Lifting his slavegirl's limp and unresisting nakedness he thrust it's back against the headboard of the bed, unlocked the handcuffs, tossed them to one side, and then began his creation of a work of art.
The bed had been designed for the helplessness of girls. For Amaril in her dreaming euphoria it was a continuing excitation not towards orgasm but to keep her in the vivid suspense of not knowing. Perhaps she was to be punished or to be made love to in some strange and esoteric manner of Kypers' choice. She did not care.
First her waist. Karl Kypers bound the narrow slenderness with extreme care, each white adhesive strip being tugged to the full tightness before being allow to bind itself upon his love, the iron to which it fastened the center of a girl was itself narrower than the girl's waist. As each bond completed its circle Kypers stood away to gauge effectiveness and plan the next. Amaril ended this fresh imposition of her master's will with five carefully placed bands constricting her middle and clamping it tight to the headboard which showed no mercy.
Next an unresisting bare are was lifted and placed carefully straight out from the shoulder, only slightly raised.
"Hold it, sweetheart, don't you dare move. I'll soon have it tight." Kypers' words were as serious as his absorption with his task.
The wrist was first, demanding only two firm white bands to hold it immobile. The bands next to be placed above feminine elbows required three strips to satisfy the aesthetic need of the man who bound them tight. When the other arm was similarly bound, Amaril found herself helpless. But Karl Kypers did not finish until he had added more tape, this time around her knees, both above and below. Amaril had become an artistic triumph of strong white tape and girl. For Amaril this new restriction seemed no more than the demanding clutch of her master's hand upon her skin. She sighed happily in her dream state and lifted only one inquiring eye to meet her lord.
Kypers sat beside the immobile loveliness of his possession, his hand still gently stroking softly the tingling flesh. Amaril closed her eyes and longed most urgently that her helplessness might never end.
Karl Kypers had played a long while upon rosebud tits, upon the golden breasts firmly out thrust before a fresh idea formed in his mind. Chuckling, he left the bed to open a draw and take from it some objects. When Amaril opened her eyes the sight of those objects sent fresh shivers down her spine and along her limbs.
"Damned if I haven't forgotten whether I've put these on you before, honey," he said carelessly. "But your pretty tits are screaming for them now. Hold still."
The demand made Amaril wish to giggle, she could not move even had she wanted to. Her voice was breathless, "Nipple clips! Oh, Karl, must you?"
" 'Fraid I must, honey. They'll be the finishing touch to a pretty picture. "
"But they hurt terribly!"
"And you can't wait for me to put them on, think I don't know? How long would you like wear them?"
"Not at all."
"Anything you can do about it?"
Amaril was too breathless to answer. They both knew there was nothing she could do about it. Her eyes were wide, not in fright, but in wonder. The tight-strapped girl watched the first clip open its jaws to begin the slow, sure journey to bite the very hard and erect nipple. First the gasp of contact before the slow placement of the spring and slow closing of the metal surfaces into the clip had buried itself deeply into the soft flesh of her nipple. When each pink tit throbbed angrily under its vicious metal rider, Karl Kypers once more stood back to admire his enhancement of feminine beauty now etched in pain.
No word was spoken. The room was silent except for the gasping breathing of a girl in pain. But it was a strange, wonderful agony quite different from other punishments. Amaril allowed her fascinated gaze to linger upon her painful tits as the clips quivered with each tiny tremor of her pained body. Soon she was lost in one more esoteric fantasy. With eyes closed, she shared alone a flaming bottom and pair of throbbing globes. After a while her master quietly left her to her dream.
Amaril's "hour of the tapes" was but one of several erotic activities by which her master indulged to use her totally and to the full. It ended in orgasm in one more caned bottom and the explosion, again and again, in the brightly hued fires of overtaxed emotions. As though to warn his slavegirl of over indulgence, in the dark of night, he carried her hot nudity to the brig. There he locked upon her limbs every weight of iron the brig had. Before he closed the door, the girl who bore his bonds was fast asleep.
The return or Megan to the Kypers' Queen was effected at a time when Amaril sat on a hatch cover with one wrist locked to a ringbolt at its side. She was enjoying the sunlight and conversing with any crew member who wish to enjoy a spot of talk with a naked beauty, a naked beauty who had long since given up seeing these men as possible avenues of escape. The single handcuffed wrist would keep her there forever.
First it was Nigel to be followed by a girl who's leash he held and who's mouth was tightly gagged with a rather unkind metal gag which padlocked at the back of her neck. Amaril could not tell with what Megan's mouth was filled, but she was sure from the appearance of her cheeks and her silence that her sister's mouth was indeed well filled. Megan's hands were behind her back and she could give her sister only agonized appeal from her eyes. Nigel did better with his usual broad wink and the wave of a careless hand in greeting. Nigel and his price went to the captain's cabin.
Amaril's emotions were sadly mixed as she sat in the sunlight. Something was up, something boding no good either for her sister or herself. But her paramount emotion was simple curiosity, she longed to be present at whatever was taking place. Her wish was soon granted by Nigel with a gag.
"Open that pretty little mouth, sweetheart. We want you to listen, but we don't want you two clucking like hens and complaining about everything that might happen to you. Come now, don't act silly."
Amaril suffered the indignity with no more than a disdainful sniff. Her gag was also padlocked on but was made from a leather band rather than metal. And there was a mouth-filling leather ball and tasted like old combat boots. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her and she was led down to Karl Kypers' cabin.
Megan's chain leash had been locked to the wall. She stood in silence but her eyes were filled with disapproval and new and strange emotions. Markings on her skin told plainly of a severe whipping from knees to shoulders. The heiress was not broken, her head was high in disdain for all she had been force to bear. Yet the bitterest pill was still to come.
"Nigel tells me your sister is a snooty bitch and a piss-poor lay," Kypers imparted. "He's going to keep Donna. He and the old lady are happy with the girl so that looks after that." He imparted a wise and knowing grin. "This sister of yours is a real pain in the ass and I wouldn't know what to do with her except that Nigel's got an ideal solution. He's got a guy with him in the boat who's willing to make me an offer for her. He'll take her just the way she is and beat her ass until she gets some sense. It's sort of standard treatment. And he tells me, too, she's got this 'going home' complex, same as you, only worse. You can shake your head for yes or no, honey, not that it will do you much good but I'm interested in how you see things. What you say we sell big sister down the river?"
With big sister's eyes on her in deep reproach, Amaril felt the only decent thing to do was shake her head no. She did so to the tune of moral support from the older girl who's shakings extracted music from her chain.
"Sure, sure, you had to say no, didn't you?" Kypers said agreeably. "Maybe you'd best keep your pretty little head still so you can part as friends. Nigel tells me she doesn't take kindly to being sold to a Barbados black, no matter how much dough he's got. The poor girl right is just seeing his prick and his whip."
Joshua Morgan was a magnificent chunk of maleness in his forties and giving great promise of virility. He modestly admitted to possession of several of what he called "broads" and was prepared to add to this modest harem another unwilling guest in the person of Megan Summers. He was willing to pay one million dollars.
"She's got a nice figure and well shaped ass for the cane," he conceded generously. "But I'm buying a pig in a poke as far as a piece of ass goes and I'm not trying her out on the floor here 'cause that ain't no way to get the best outa any girl." He gave all present a very white smile. "I like your idea with the handcuffs, I can use it on the others instead of chain and padlock or a bit of rope. It's remarkable how many girls have got this thing about 'I want to go home.' Do we have a deal?"
Acceptance was instant. Megan, who up till now had stood in haughty contempt, once more became animated. The shaking of her head and the small sounds contrived from behind her gag told clearly she had no wish to be Mrs. Joshua Morgan's slave. No doubt she wished to make clear her longing to return home and resume her management of Triangle Corporation. Megan watched, almost in disbelief, as a check was written and she was consigned to new ownership. From time to time her stricken eyes sought those of her sister, but all either could do was shrug. Kypers suggestion to "let them rub their tits awhile" as a final farewell brought scarlet to Amaril's cheeks. No one negated the idea, but both girls found themselves unwilling to perform so intimate an act before watching males.
Choked by emotion, they did no more than rub each other's cheeks before Mr. Morgan led his prize back to Nigel's boat where, no doubt, he would have much to say to a silent and angry heiress to more millions than perhaps he had ever dreamed off. Joshua Morgan's silk shirt and shark skin pants were costly and would perhaps add tone to Megan's enslavement. Once more Amaril's emotions were mixed.
"Well, that's that," Nigel said with obvious satisfaction. He winked at Amaril to suggest, "Pity you don't have more sisters, we could make a fortune. Do you have any cousins?"
Amaril treated the query with the contempt she felt it deserved. No one could dislike Nigel and it was quite possible he supposed himself a factor in providing Megan with an owner whose potency could not be questioned and who's skill with a whip and cane would be more than equal to the task of training even so haughty a girl as Megan.
"I'll give Donna your love. Please do stop by any time." He winked at Kypers. "I'm sure the girls would enjoy a visit. We can bind them in a cage while we have a drink. And I expect Grandma would like to give Amaril a gently sort of whipping for old time's sake. She liked Amaril. So do I. Kypers, you're a damned lucky man."
Amaril knew herself thankful to have been only an onlooker to the sale and purchase of her sister's body. It would have been a terrible thing to discover the degree to which Mr. Morgan may finally possess Megan's mind. But that was another story, the end of which she might never know. She was soundly kissed by a cheerful Nigel before he left to join the happy couple on his boat. Unable to speak and equally unable to do anything useful with hands behind her back, she stood and bestowed a small quizzical smile upon her master who, after watching Nigel's boat depart, unstrapped and unlocked her gag with a warning, "Watch it, sweetheart, no bad words and I don't want to hear about going home." He chuckled. "Apart from the dough, I'm damn glad to see your sister hauled away in chains, it's the best thing to do with dames like that. Now, let me have it, I'm braced."
"Oh, Karl, I can't let you have it or pretend I'm not half pleased about what's happening to Megan." She vented mischief at him, "I've come out the winner, haven't I!"
"If you figure being triced up to the rigging and flogged from time to time and getting your pretty little ass caned every night before we fuck, why sure you have," Kypers agreed.
The girl who's hands were cuffed behind her back and who's every female charm was totally exposed to her master's eyes, stood silent for a while before admitting sheepishly, "I don't mind how you punished me, you know that. It would be awful if I hated it but I don't. Karl, you do know I'm in love with you?"
"Sure, honey, I know. I love you, too. And sometime in the future I'll marry you but not now. Right now I'm wondering if we shouldn't do a little something to celebrate. Any ideas?"
"Sure I've got an idea. I expect I picked it up by telepathy from you. Remember that time you had me triced up to the rigging but gave me only that one awful stroke?"
"You're a damned remarkable girl, Amaril, you can read my mind. But I'm, not half way sure I can read yours."
He rose to take her in his arms and fondle her lovingly while planting kiss after kiss on ripe, full lips.
"So, okay, seems like it's something we have to do. I'll unlock your handcuffs and then you go down and get yourself properly positioned. Ask one of the boys to tie your hands and then wait for me to come. You'll have a lot to think about, won't you!"
Quivering, Amaril stood while the handcuffs were unlocked and placed on the table for future use. Passionately they kissed until she broke away breathless to exclaim, "I've got a job to do, Karl. If I don't do it soon I'll get scared. I'll go find one of the boys. Okay by you?"
In deep content, Karl Kypers watched her go, the lovely nakedness golden in the sun. He knew himself the luckiest of men. The girl who adored him found her seaman and stood with arms well raised and far apart while her wrists were corded tight to the taut rigging.
"There you are, Miss Summers. Hope it's not too tight."
"It's wonderful. Thank you."
Once more she was alone.
The naked girl named Amaril Summers stood looking out to sea before twisting and tugging at roped wrists to assure herself she could not get free. Sometime in the afternoon her master would mark her vividly with a whip and perhaps a cane, the thought sparked only a tingling response in her overheated sex, and a dreamlike image in her mind of what was soon to happen. Amaril wondered if she would scream but did not care. She cared about nothing except the blonde giant who possessed her totally. With a sigh of happiness she stood passive in her bonds and stared out to the horizon of the sun-drenched sea.
