Ginevera gazed wearily up the length of her bare arm to where the leather band was tight buckled around her wrists. The straps by which both her hands were held above her head and well apart, were indented within her skins now the same as before she had been whipped, and before Westley Wallace had taken her to be his bride. It was not the strap that held her interest now but the golden circlet on her third finger, left hand. When she thought of its implications she shivered and ineffectually struggled to deliberately hurt her wrists as her only expression of frustration. For Miss Ginevera Anderson, it had been an eventful day.
The whipping had been routine, a fortnightly ritual by which the Trinity Academy for Young Ladies constantly reaffirmed a strange imprisonment. The first time a girl was thus corrected was always a shock but for Ginevera the first time had been long ago. What bothered her most at this moment was to wonder what was taking place upstairs and how long she would have to stand with strapped wrists to await something at which she could only guess. Wearily, she thrust her cheek against a bare arm and closed her eyes to wait. Waiting was a virtue every girl at Trinity soon learned.
Bare feet make little sound but a sixth sense warned the prisoner of a second presence in the room. Ginevera tensed and came alert to stare wide-eyed at a girl she had not previously seen, a girl as naked as she, herself, but standing free of tethers or bonds except for handcuffed wrists. She was a dark -haired, dark eyed beauty no longer a teenager. Ginevera's guess was her visitor could be twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and had about her an air of quiet competence exhibited by the small, secret smile and bright, inquiring eyes. The manner in which this new comer wore the handcuffs by which her wrists were joined told clearly she was still in. revolt against the imposition of the irons. Her voice spoke of education and an out of place authority.
"I'm Avon Adderly. You're Ginevera Anderson," she stated easily. "I was told to come down and talk to you but I don't know why."
"You were told where to find me?"
"Yes, of course. I was also told not to bother trying to escape and I can well see why." She laughed in genuine amusement. "This old castle is a fortress, and what isn't solid stone is iron bars. But I discovered this yesterday and the day before when I arrived."
"But Alyth-I mean Lady Hardcastle didn't mention you. No one's said anything about a new girl. I suppose you were kidnapped?
Again the laugh. "No, I wasn't kidnapped. I gather most of the girls were. I came for reasons of my own and I know I'm going to be sorry for the decision. I take it you were one of the abducted ones?"
"Sure I was abducted but it was so long ago I had almost forgotten. Did anyone say anything about coming down to unfasten me? I'm sick of standing like this." Hurriedly, Ginevera added, "This is the way they fasten us for the whipping we get every two weeks. You probably noticed the marks on my skin."
"They were the first thing I noticed when I tiptoed in. You seem wonderfully casual about it."
"It's the only way to be. Did anyone say anything about Westley and me being married?"
"You mean they have wives and husbands here! Gosh, you've got a wonderful figure. What do you think of mine?"
"It's too good to waste in a prison."
"Well, I only sentenced myself to six months and I only did that because Grandma insisted. I've got a grandma to pay attention to. Tell me about this being married business."
"I don't know much about it. They had a gathering, just enough to make it legal, and all the proper words were said, and, because Alyth seemed to want it so much, I made the proper responses, half believing the whole thing was a joke. Then Westley slipped the ring on my finger and they all went back upstairs. Are you sure no one told you?"
"Not a word. They seemed to want me to come and talk to you. And I figured I'd get a bit more conditioning. I hadn't the faintest idea I'd find you like this."
"Well, if I weren't like this, I'd be like you are. Have you gotten used to the handcuffs? We all wear them." Avon shrugged. "I try and get used to them but I can't. You girls wear them as though they're a part of you. Look, this silly marriage thing you talk about, it isn't going to happen to me, is it?"
"Not unless Westley takes a liking to you. Haven't you met Westley yet? He's Alyth's favorite nephew and can have any girl he takes a fancy to. He's taken a fancy to me ever since I came. And now I've got his ring on my finger and I'm wondering if the wedding was just a joke or if I'm still Alyth's favorite slavegirl-that's what we are, you know."
"I have yet to meet this Lady Alyth. I think I'm scheduled for tomorrow when I get whipped for the first time. She does it to us, doesn't she? I'm told she's a real charmer." Avon suddenly looked concerned. "Would you like me to try and unbuckle those straps on your wrists. This all seems so weird."
"If you touch my straps, you'll find yourself like me. You mustn't let me lose, it's a no-no."
Avon shrugged disgust. "Maybe this will all make sense to me after a week or a month, but right now I feel like Alice in Wonderland. The way all you girls seemed resigned to being prisoners makes me want to scream."
"I know it's frustrating and hard to understand, but if you came here for a purpose you must surely have been told something about Trinity." Ginevera looked shrewdly at the lovely girl still playing with the metal around her wrists. "Weren't you told about being naked all the time? And the handcuffs? And how you'd be whipped every couple of weeks? Damn it, someone must have told you something!"
"I got the whole prospectus but I didn't believe a word of it. I thought that poor, dear grandma was passing on a bit of senility. Golly, I never actually believed any of it!" She managed to laugh, somewhat bitterly.
"What sin did you commit to get sentenced to Trinity? Was it sleeping with a man?"
"It was sleeping with a woman, actually. I believe that's considered even worse." Avon chuckled at a memory. "I'd really love to undo those straps around your wrists. Ginevera. How long have they made you stay that way?" , "Several hours, but it's not the first time so don't worry. Are you really a lesbian?"
"That's the funny part, I'm not. But I was experimenting. Am I likely to be ravished by this Westley character?"
"If I was a man, I'd want to get you into bed," Ginevera admitted honestly. Then she added, "But Westley's gone and got himself married to me. Not that I kid myself about fidelity having any part of our contract.
It isn't even a contract, I'm simply his to do whatever he likes with. But that's not new, either, he's done whatever he wanted to with me from the beginning."
"Sounds an ogre."
"That's one thing he's not. He's charming and witty and he's mostly smiling. Even when he whips you, he wants you to feel it's all a lot of fun. And he's ever good in bed with a whole bunch of notions no man should inflict upon any girl." Ginevera sniffed. "The trouble is that he refuses the cold shoulder and sarcasm and goes blissfully ahead until you wouldn't have him stop even if you could."
"Then what are you complaining about?"
"Did I say I was complaining? It's just that they've kept me standing here, strapped up tight, longer than usual. I'm tired. I want to be let loose. Please don't look so concerned when I wiggle around like I do. It sort of eases things a bit. You'll know what I mean when it happens to you."
Whatever Avon might have said was lost in the grand entry of Westley Wallace, his amiable grin including both captive girls. The new girl's nakedness obviously met his approval. "You're a beauty," he said. "And I expect you know you'll get your first whipping tomorrow. I wanted to do it but Auntie prefers you get it at her gentle hands this first time. She'll whip you beautifully so don't feel you're loosing anything."
"I'm looking forward to it." The words were heavy with sarcasm.
"I may take you to bed afterwards and try you out. Did you know it's better for both after a girl's been whipped?"
"No. Really! Please don't feel you have to!"
Ginevera longed to warn this beautiful creature her sarcasms would earn nothing but punishment. But the opportunity passed as Westley said, "Run along now, Avon, go back the same way you came. You can rejoin the other girls in class. Prompt!"
Now the sole focus of Westley's attention, the tightly strapped Ginevera, had a hundred things to say but they all emerged in a small, sad request, "Westley, please unfasten me."
"I don't see why you wish to get loose, you look very pretty the way you are. Quite delightful, in fact."
"Please don't tease. My hands have been strapped up there for hours and I'm terribly tired. Please. What's going on upstairs?"
"Don't complain, we sent Avon on down to talk to you so you won't get bored. Upstairs we're doing a bit of after the ceremony partying. Your presence is requested. I'll undo those straps."
"Westley, I'm a mess! I've been whipped and my hair's a mess! I need a bath. How can I possibly ... ?"
"Well, if you prefer to stay the way you are...?"
"No, no. I don't want to stay the way I am. I'll go with you." Ginevera knew herself defeated but asked hopefully, "May I have something to wear?"
"Of course you may, sweetheart. I've brought your prettiest pair of handcuffs, the ones you love."
"Westley, you're still teasing. Is that minister man still there?"
"He's very much there. Last time I saw him he was eating a sardine sandwich and discussing with Auntie the trouble he has keeping his curtea off the incense. He wants to see you again."
"Well, I don't want to see him unless I've got some clothes on."
"If the handcuffs are not enough, dear, I can add some leg irons. They're very dressy."
"Never mind, the handcuffs will do nicely." Ginevera's voice sank to a whisper, "Westley, we aren't really married, are we?"
"Of course we're married, honeybunch. Auntie wants me to father a son to inherit Trinity Castle and the family fortune."
"She wants me to have a baby! Oh, Westley, what are we going to do!" In shock Ginevera stood there rubbing the marks on her wrists and staring at her husband in dismay.
"I'm not too keen on the idea myself," Westley admitted ruefully as he produced the beloved handcuffs. "Here, put your hands out before I forget."
Ginevera knew she shouldn't meekly offer her wrists for the steel circles but she did. It was more instinct than decision. As the rackets clicked and the shinning steel became smoothly snug, she continued her protest, "Well, if you don't want a baby and I don't want a baby, what are we to do?"
"It's simple, love, Lady Alyth will take you off the pill but I'll put you back on and we'll neither of us say a word."
The naked bride used her joined hands to tidy her hair on her way to an ordeal she could not avoid. It had been all well for the Reverend Clarence Bull to see her naked as he read the marriage lines, but then she had been fastened tight and helpless. Now she would move among guests in relative freedom to render her nakedness ten times as outrageous as before. She supposed she would live and wondered if Lady Alyth was quietly laughing over this charade of her own creation.
Ginevera need not have worried. Her nudity was as implicit as the carpet on the floor. To ease embarrassment, Lady Alyth had extracted several naked girls from Class to add their chained erotism to an atmosphere already heavily charged with sex. The Reverend Clarence Bull appeared not to notice.
"Isn't this all wonderful, darling?" Lady Alyth nudged her favorite slavegirl. "I'm so happy for you and for darling Westley. Please do get him a son as quickly as you can. And please be extra nice to every one here."
"But Alyth, I don't want a son!"
"I do understand, darling, this is all a bit of a shock. But I've told Westley to tie you down to the bed if you become difficult. And, of course, I'm taking you off the pill. You're going to be so happy!"
If the White Rabbit and the Mad Hatter had made an appearance, Ginevera would not have been surprised. The handcuffed girls from Class were looking at her enviously as a girl who had done well for herself by marrying millions and snaring a husband who's expertise in bed was something they well knew, having often chuckled over the fact that Lady Hardcastle's favorite nephew left no girl unturned.
They were joined by a very happy Erin, who had been allowed to dress for the occasion and who's wrists were free. "Isn't it absolutely wonderful, darling?" the teenager bubbled over. "I'm not sure about your baby but I expect Mommy will work it out. Aren't you thrilled?"
"Erin, don't be so pleased about it. I'm not going to have a baby and that's final."
"But, darling, you absolutely must!" Erin was shocked. "Mommy wants you to have a son so bad she'll do whatever she has to do to make sure it happens." Erin giggled. "You know what I mean, she'll have you tied down to the bed for Westley to do you know what, or she'll whip you until you say yes, you'd love to have a baby. Darling, you're blushing!"
For the first time in a long while, Ginevera longed to slip the handcuffs from her wrists and flee Trinity Castle and everything it stood for. The wedding, which she was still not positive about, was the last straw. Bitterly, she inquired, "Where am I being taken for Westley's honeymoon?"
"Mommy's taking you to New York so you can take in all the theaters." Erin sighed. "I wish I could go alone but after this party I have to go back to Class and be bare and handcuffed again." Her tone became wistful. "Darling, can't you persuade Westley to ... well, sort of try me out? I'd be ever so willing."
Ginevera sighed. She was in no mood for ardent teenagers. No doubt Westley had been forbidden to touch Erin or he would have taken her long since. But suddenly the thought of a honeymoon became the answer to a prayer. If he took her to New York, he couldn't possibly keep her chained in a hotel room or tied to the bed in the manner of Erin's imaginings. She would have a chance to escape, a chance she had not thought about for a long time but which now hammered demandingly at her conscious. She gratefully accepted a drink and then another to circulate among the guests and pretend she was as delighted as they. All the while her mind was at work. Even when the Reverend Clarence Bull had eaten his last sardine sandwich and departed into the evening's gloom, and Erin had sulkily gone back to the Class. The prisoner found herself alone with a man who said he was her husband and a woman who wanted her to have a baby. Ginevera longed to scream.
"Everything went wonderfully," Lady Alyth said. 'The Reverend Bull and I are old friends and I've always found his ability to avoid looking at the feminine figure remarkable. He is truly celebrate. The girls in from the class enjoyed themselves." She bestowed a knowing look at the blushing bride. "They envy you, dear. I know you're still in something of a shock, and uncertain whether to be pleased or sorry, but those girls would willingly change placed with you. I want you to remember that."
"Yes, I know. But I want to belong to you, not Westley. I wish we could have left things the way they were."
"You're in a bad mood, dear. If you hadn't already been whipped today, I'd whip you again to straighten out your mind. But I'll leave that to your husband when he takes you up to bed. I'm sure he'll have ideas."
"My husband! Oh, you mean Westley. Yes, Westley will have ideas, he always does."
"Well, that's settled then," Lady Alyth said brightly. "What we should talk about now is your honeymoon. I've booked you into a good hotel in New York, and arranged for theater tickets." As if issuing an order, she added, "You'll enjoy it."
"Don't I get to plan anything about my own honeymoon?"
"Don't be difficult, dear, you don't get to plan anything. And in case you're thinking of escape, Westley will look after that, too. I want you to be very happy through the whole nine months."
"Nine months! You mean the honeymoon is that long!"
"Your pregnancy, dear," Lady Alyth reminded gently. "Please don't pretend you've forgotten or don't know. For the sake of Westley's son you will be happy throughout. After the fifth month you will be excused from the whipping every two weeks. I have every confidence you'll be a good girl and come through with flying colors."
"And great big belly!"
Lady Alyth's smile remained. "Westley, dear, your bride is being difficult. She's all yours now and I will rely upon you to create in her a proper frame of mind. During the first few weeks the darling girl may be whipped as frequently as you deem necessary. This includes the period of honeymoon."
"But I don't want to be whipped at all," Ginevera asserted forcefully. "Surely Mrs. Westley Wallace doesn't get whipped the same as the girls in the Class?"
"You won't get whipped at all if you behave yourself," Westley intervened. "I've written up a few rules I'll be wanting you to follow, particularly for your behavior on our honeymoon. I know you're thinking how easy it will be to run away-forget it."
For Ginevera the day had been just too much. Blindly she groped her way into Lady Alyth's warm embrace, clasping her arms around the woman who first had made her a slave and then chosen her as favorite from among the girls of the Class. Lady Alyth Hardcastle held her slavegirl tight and arranged handcuffed arms more comfortably around her neck. Neither woman spoke to Westley.
When they finished their communion, they discovered Westley munching a ham sandwich.
For Westley and Ginevera, bedtime was pure anticlimax. The supposedly happy young couple made their way to the appointed place, closing the door behind them, while Ginevera advanced to center stage to gaze around in sardonic humor at familiar things. Her first request seemed obvious. "You can take my handcuffs off now, Westley. I'm no longer one of the girls."
"You know I won't do that, poppet. I like you just as you are. If you complain too much. I'll add the leg irons."
"But Westley...."
Westley waved his wife's freedom into limbo. "I don't want to hear a thing about it." he said grandly. "The box of pills is on the dresser, keep it somewhere handy."
Ginevera sighed inwardly, raising her joined hands to admire the sleek metal bracelets which told her she was still a prisoner. It did not matter, she was no worse off than before and was still half inc-lined to believe the wedding ceremony a deception designed for everyone's amusement but her own. It would be useless to ask Westley questions. He would flippantly refuse to be serious.
Ginevera inquired. "What are you going to do with me on our honeymoon, chain me to the bed?"
"Only at night, sweetheart. Can't have you running around a hotel dressed the way you are."
"You mean I get to wear clothes! Look, Westley, I don't see how you can possibly take me on a honeymoon without there being all sorts of opportunities for me to run away. I can't help being curious, how am I to be ... controlled?"
"You'll be provided with an adequate wardrobe. And I'll take you shopping. I can't lead you around on a chain so I'll willing to accept your word of honor. If that isn't forthcoming, you will indeed stay chained to the bed." With a wry grin, he gathered his wife in two comforting arms to whisper, with unusual tenderness, "I'm sorry about this, sweetheart. It wasn't my idea and I know it's a bit of a pain. It's damned unromantic considering the number of times we've already slept together. I'm fond of you, and if you don't hate me we can let it go at that."
Holidays are infectious. New York gave of its best. The sparkle and lights of dinner found Ginevera bubbling with the excitement that any girl would feel on just such an occasion. She was totally free and expensively clothed. Westley had insisted on a costly bracelet for each wrists. And Ginevera found the beautiful bracelets gave her a thrill she could not deny. There was no connecting chain but the symbolism was understood. Just as with the gold band upon her finger. To add an extra touch of excitement to the honeymoon, they had agreed that each morning, upon arising, Ginevera should renew her vow of honor not to attempt escape or remain morally free to run away. If she chose the latter option, Westley assured he would take whatever precautions he saw fit. Laughing he refused to satisfy Ginevera's most vocal curiosity as to what such precautions might be. Even though his wife sniffed with disdain, Ginevera knew in her heart the honeymoon was going better than expected.
Smiling in a friendly she spoke to a man equally please with himself and with her, "Westley, dear, you've given me a wonderful day. Now I'm wondering if we really have to live at Trinity Castle after the honeymoon or couldn't we have a little place of our own somewhere?"
"You mean, if you haven't run away in the meantime?"
She twinkled, "Yes, there's always that possibility ... if you let me."
"Forget the escape, sweetheart, and forget the pretty little place off on our own. Auntie wants was at Trinity, so that's the way it's going to be. I have to agree it's a good idea, because where else would we have the dungeon and the cells and the ... well, let's call them 'playrooms.' So long as you're aware of them being handily available it will help you behave yourself. See what I mean?"
"What I see is I'm going to remain a prisoner as I have been from the first." Ginevera shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Westley. I suppose that terrible wedding ceremony achieved nothing except to give our son a legal status. If he ever happens, and if we really are married."
"Still not quite sure, are you? Well, sweetheart, it doesn't really matter. Although I will admit to a touch of pride when I registered us as Mr. and Mrs. Westley Wallace of Trinity Castle, Dorset, England. Don't tell me you haven't noticed the respect we're getting.
"If they only knew!"
A good dinner, costly wines and ancient brandy sent Ginevera to their room with a comfortable feeling of well being and belonging. She decided to amuse herself by compelling Westley to call the shots. She refused to undress until ordered to do so, and then compelled this man who might or might not be her husband to order her about.
"You know damned well what comes next, honeybunch. Turn around and give me your hands."
No doubt it was the brandy but the unusual request seemed no more than amusing. Instantly obedient the lovely girl turned her back upon her master and delivered her hands for whatever he might do. The command to remove the bracelets was instantly obeyed to be followed by the familiar clasp of steel upon her wrists and the familiar clicks which spelt captivity.
"Is this because I've been extra bad or something?" Ginevera twisted at hands she knew she could not free. "Why can't I wear them in front?"
"Just because, that's why. Get yourself on that bed and lay on them. It will be a nice change."
Ginevera did as told. It was not the first time and previous experience enabled an arrangement of her arms with some comfort. From somewhere Westley produced rope. It was pleasant to allow her master to do the work. Ginevera was in that condition of mild intoxication in which everything was funny. While her ankle was being firmly tied, she heard Westley's voice as in a lecture.
"Now we are married, sweetheart, we must avoid the mundane. Let's us avoid getting into a sexual rut. Can you guess what I'm about to do?"
"Spread my legs and tie my ankles to the corners? Westley, you're so funny."
There was no answer. Instead her ankle was raised and drawn back and back, passed and over Ginevera's astonished head to be tied to one of the top corners in a position almost painful but not quite. The left cheek of Ginevera's exposed bottom was slapped before Westley tied and pulled up her other leg to tie it to the other top corner. It was not until her second limb was completing it's arch, that Ginevera realized that avoiding a rut could be femininely embarrassing.
"Westley, I don't think I like this. Westley...." she complained. "I've got an awful feeling it's obscene. Please untie me and we'll start again."
"I wouldn't dream of spoiling this masterpiece, honeybunch. It's a work of art, you should see yourself." Westley's voice was earnest and sincere.
Ginevera tried to wiggle but achieved only small, ineffectual motions. Her voice, however, had become more irritated. "I don't want to see me. I've sure you've fixed me up so I'm obscene. Westley, please, if you must tie me like this, cover it up. Put a towel over it."
"But there's no one here except me."
"Then I don't want you to see it, either."
"Do you realize I'm staring right at my little what's it! How on earth do you expect to make love to me in this position?"
"You've got a point! I'll get my clothes off and see how I make out. This is interesting."
"You wouldn't think so if you were me. You've got me tied up like a pretzel."
"Pretzels don't get tied up, sweetheart. Would you like me to cane you first?"
"You haven't got a cane."
"Actually, I have, dear girl. A nice, slender cane I was able to fit in the suitcase. Would you care for a few strokes, just for atmosphere?"
"No, I wouldn't. I don't want to be caned when I'm fixed like this. Get on with your experiment, I'm curious."
The experiment was not a success. Westley soon discovered the manner in which Ginevera was tied rendered the center of his concern illusive and hard to get. A fresh approach from a new direction ended with him sitting on the rug beside the bed, bemused and baffled. He complained, "I don't get it! First you see it, then you don't. Got any ideas?"
"It would be better if you allowed my bottom back down upon my arms. Westley, why can't we just be normal and risk boredom? These upside down positions aren't all they're cracked up to be."
Westley's mood was not thus easily disposed. He untied Ginevera's ankles to enable her to thankfully return her legs to the bed. In what she hoped was wifely concern, she spread her legs and raised her knees invitingly to plead, "Come alone, Westley, no little slavegirl or wife would ever offer you more than I do now."
Westley stared and was forced to agree. "Trouble is you're not tied up enough," he proclaimed. "But you've given me a damned good idea."
Once more it was pleasant to lay still and let her husband do the work. She was curious as to his next disposition of her person. But she remained quiet and uncomplaining as her ankle was once more snared and drawn back tight against it's tight. It took several strands to satisfy Westley's idea of what was proper, strands drawn cruelly tight then cinched and knotted out of sight. The determined husband had gone to great pains to make sure the job was neat and tidy and robbed his wife of legs. Encourage by initial success, he completed this new bondage position with her other legs. Laughing inwardly, the bound girl longed to tell him he was now back to square one, having stolen with his rope no more than she had offered freely of her own accord. But her legs were now stumps and she could do little but lay upon her arms and open and close her legs. It was at that moment that Westley Wallace fell forward with his face within her furry pussy and went to sleep.
It took Ginevera several moments to realize what had happened. But then she raised herself upon pinioned arms to survey the head and shoulders of the man no longer her master, a man seemingly intent upon performing oral sex acts upon her but not making any progress. She also took a quick look at the shortened legs and at the strands of rope deep in her flesh. She sank back in unconcern and went to sleep herself with Westley's hot breath upon her puss.
Westley Wallace was not easily embarrassed. "It happened to a lot of couples on their honeymoon," he explained as if trying to right a wrong. "Just had too much to drink. But I found it damned interesting. That's cute the way I've got your feet tied back to your thighs. Would you like me to untie you so we can go to breakfast?"
"Perhaps you should. I can't hobble on my knees like this. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, I missed the boat."
Sheepishly, Westley untied the tight ropes, then turned their owner over on to her face to unlock her hands. Once more freed and returned to normal, the slavegirl massaged the deep rope marks on her skin, and was suddenly excited about the prospects of a new day in which all she had to do to enjoy the delight of a strange city and to wear clothes was to make her declaration to no escape. Westley had designed a pleasant little ritual for this and, when it was completed, his possession was allowed to dress and accompany him to breakfast. Everything was wonderful.
It remained thus for several days. The morning oath was followed by the delights the Big Apple could bestow. During this period it was doubtful if Ginevera's thoughts strayed in the direction of escape at all. But as the days passed and the excitement lessened, Ginevera's final declaration became inevitable. At the appointed time she said quite simply, "No more promise, Westley. If I get a chance to run, I'll run."
"Big deal!" Westley sounded disgruntled. "I know you're testing. You're getting bored with a good time. And you want to see what happens." He chuckled at some inward vision. "If you're thinking I'll handcuff you to the bed, and wondering what you'll say to the house maid when she comes to tidy up, you can think again. That's not what is going to happen."
"So, okay, Westley dear, tell me what is going to happen, I'm curious."
"I was hoping we wouldn't reach this point for a while," Westley said. "We've been enjoying ourselves, why spoil it? Come on, sweetheart, give me your word and we'll romp off to explore wonderland."
"No."
"You'll be sorry."
"I'm sure I will. But I'm still curious"
"There's no way I'm going to let you escape."
"Sure, sure, I know. But I've still got a feminine curiosity. You can lock me in the clothes closet, or tie me into a hogtie and push me under the bed where the maid won't see. Or maybe you can put a noose around my neck and lead me around New York under complete control. That is the word, isn't it, control?"
Westley sighed and shook his head in a mock regret. "I think you like being tied up or handcuffed. But you won't enjoy what I've got in store for you the least bit. Look, sweetheart, I've got everything arranged for today but suppose we say your promise ends when we're dressing for dinner? After that you can run. If you want to."
"Okay, that's a deal, Westley. Not even handcuffs."
"Not even handcuffs."
"And I won't be tied up or anything?"
"Not until after your parole expires before dinner."
The slavegirl was satisfied. Embracing her lord and master with a pair of totally free arms, she said with complete sincerity, "Thank you, Westley, I'll be looking forward to dinner all day long."
The day brought heart-searchings to the girl who was uncertain whether she was married or not. Compared to the stone walls of Trinity, New York was heady stuff, plying one delight upon another, but always in the knowledge of it all being possible because of Trinity's wealth. Ginevera knew herself a much pamper young woman and wondered if this lush luxury would make freedom a little less attractive if the chance came. Such restraints as Westley had imposed were nothing more than fun.
In this uncertainty, the slave from Trinity approached the deadline of her pledge, wondering if Westley had forgotten. But it was Westley who broached the subject of renewal. "Sure you don't want to extend your parole through dinner, sweetheart?" He kissed her gently. "You're foolish if you don't."
She offered apology, "I know you're right, dear. But, like I said, I'm feminine and curious. Maybe all I want is a masterful male to put me under control. I don't see how you possibly can."
"Take off whatever you intend to change." Westley's suitcase now yielded a length of wire with a small eyelet at each end. He held it up for Ginevera's inspection. "Want to change your mind?"
"No really. Westley, that looks like a bit of wire. What are you going to do with it?"
"This goes along with it." Westley now produced a small padlock. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"
Slowly it dawned. Even Westley's order to clasp her hands behind her neck failed to explain the innocence of the length of wire. Attired only in panties and bra, the obedient girl stood in the revealing pose and held her breath as she was turned around for Westley to perform whatever foul deed he had in mind. A moment later she gasped as the wire encircled the narrowest part of her waist above her hips. There was nothing dramatic in the discovery as Westley inserted his padlock and drew the wire tighter and tighter until his padlock entered the eyelet at the other end to complete a circle of acute discomfort. The slavegirl's gasp was more of fear than of pain. "Oh, Westley!"
"Okay, sweetheart, revert to normal. You can put your hands down, I'm sure you want to."
The reaction was instant. Female fingers flew to the wire now deep within her flesh and the padlock which rested within the small hollow of her spine. Nowhere could the wearer of the wire insert a finger or even a fingernail beneath the firm wire. When she walked she almost laughed at the outrageous assertion of her hips as they swayed from side to side as in the invitation of a whore. Westley actually did laugh at the imposition on his wife. "It fits you perfectly, sweetheart," he chuckled. "Want to go for a walk?"
"I can't possibly go for a walk with this thing biting at me. Oh, Westley, don't be mean, take it off."
"If you don't want a nice walk then how about running away?"
Her fingers still frantically searching for some way to rid herself of the thing, Ginevera now understood: this biting constriction would be the control, hidden beneath her clothes, it would inhibit anything she sough to do. In a mixture of laughter and tears she surrendered.
"All right, Westley, I'll give you my word. This thing would drive me crazy! Take it off."
"Sorry, love, you made your decision."
She stared, horrified. "You mean you won't? You mean you expect me to do go dinner with you like this! Westley, be reasonable."
Westley was enjoying Ginevera's slavegirl concern. His voice, as always, was loaded with sweet reason, "You want a chance to escape, dear girl. Well, I'm giving you one. There'll be all sorts of chances for you to walk or run away during the things we'll be doing this evening. What's a bit of discomfort compared to the opportunity I'm dangling before your nose? I want you to run away, I want you to get the damned fool notion out of your mind. If I never see you again, it will be my loss. But I'm betting you'll be seeing the sights with me again tomorrow."
There was now a flare of anger with the pain. Westley was so damned smug, so convinced of his power over her that she longed to beat her fists against his smile and tell him what she thought of a man who would do a thing like this to a girl he was suppose to love. Women possess an unsuspected fortitude against agony, so spurred on my the mockery, she angrily commenced to dress.
"You think you're so damned smart, don't you? Well, all right, if I have to wear it, I have to wear it. But if I get a chance to walk away without the two of us making some awful scene in a restaurant, you can bet that's what I'm going to do. Come along, I hope you're proud of walking beside a woman who's hips behave like a prostitute on the street corner."
Savagely she inserted earrings and put on the new bracelets. Somehow she was going to wipe that smile from Westley's face.
It was an exercise in self control. In the elevator and the lobby the constricted maiden fought to control her hips and at the same time keep her features properly composed. The pain was constant and would get worse. Even to sit on the chair the waiter held for her drew a fresh response from the enemy around her waist. Her eyes sought her companion's in appeal but Westley only grinned and nodded approvingly. "You're doing fine, honeybunch," he told her as though the pain was his. "I'm sure you're hating me right now but what you have to remember is that you're free to walk away at any time. I won't tell you want I'll do if you get up and make for the door, I'm not sure I know myself. This whole evening is going to be a marvelous experience for both of us." Ginevera swallowed hard and gave her full attention to Oscar's menu and Oscar's comforting wine. Westley was always a good companion and his cheerful chatter skirted the subject of wire around a girl's waist and dwelt largely on their plans for the next day. By the time dessert arrived, Ginevera had taken in enough wine to boaster her false sense of courage and make the wire seem a little less wicked. She excused herself on the grounds of need to visit the restroom.
They both acknowledged what she had in mind as the hurting walked towards the fatal door. She closed her mind to pain.
First things came first and Ginevera had no doubt what the first thing was. A department store yielded pliers with small cutting blades. A ladies room provided a place for the fleeing girl to uncover enough of herself to test her purchase. There was no way she could get the open jaw beneath the wire other than in the hollow of her back. Even this was difficult, as was the force needed to close the blades and cut the wire. Ginevera gave the metal tool everything she had but the result was absolutely nothing. A searching finger failed to find even a scratch. And she dismally recalled something Westley had said about it being a special type of steel. She tried again and again without result.
Next she tried the pliers on the padlock. Another defeat. She then resorted to frantic hacking at the wire again. At the end of thirty minutes she disgustedly put the pliers in her bag and conceded Westley Wallace and his wire a total victory. She considered the police but they would ask questions she would not wish to answer and the embarrassment of what she would be forced to reveal to suspicious male eyes was an ordeal she could not face. What she needed was some special tool or something like that. She phoned airport but the last plane had gone for the evening, and anyway she doubted her ability to fight the enemy for the many hours of an Atlantic crossing. She could imagine the expression on the flight attendant's face if she should ask for help.
by now the pain was intolerable. Flushed with shame, she returned to the restaurant to plead for mercy. Westley was sipping coffee and proved unexpectedly sympathetic. "You can't get it off," he said gently. "I'll except your parole if you're in the mood."
Shame did not matter, nothing mattered expect to rid herself of the enemy. Looking at Westley, she repeated the ritualistic vow by which she renounced freedom, then accepted the tiny key. It was a painful walk to the restaurant's restroom where she unlocked the padlock and gratefully removed the wire from her tummy. There was a fiery agony as the wire peeled from her flesh but she tried not to cry.
With the wire and padlock and key safely in her bag, Ginevera marched determinedly back to the table, refusing to consider how easy it might now be to run away.
At bed time Westley was unusually tender in his caress. Playfully he removed her clothes, handcuffed her wrists and led her to the big mirror to admire the slender scarlet band created on her skin. Ginevera gasped when she saw the redness and knew the mark would be a few days in fading away.
"It's truly beautiful," Westley assured her. "Thank you for compelling me to put it on. If you hadn't, that pretty belt might never have happened."
Ginevera felt loved and was strangely content with escape safely behind her and the future only an ill-defined dream. When Westley unlocked the handcuffs to place them on the dresser, he told her, "Don't want these on you tonight." His slavegirl threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
That night, in the slavegirl's giving and her master's taking, they discovered a joy they had missed before. Both were happy. In the morning Ginevera performed her daily pledge of parole with more sincerity than ever before. And she did it without being asked.
But had the happy couple guessed the events that day were to bring, they would have fled from danger.
CHAPTER TWO - Avon
The whole thing was insane and I was old enough to know better. But when you love someone the way I love Grandma it's easy to find yourself between a rock and a hard place, that's how I came to Trinity Castle and the beautiful woman I was to know as Lady Alyth. Grandma and I discussed my six month sentence, the punishment she considered appropriate to my sin.
"I do so want you to understand, dear." My Grandmother's voice was both troubled and tender. "We live in a world that has lost sight of right and wrong but I have never wanted you a part of it. As long as I live you never will be a part of it. You have been raised in decency, and I want you to tell me now you accept this punishment. I am sending you to Lady Alyth and Trinity Castle. It will do you so much good."
"Grandma, I said I'll accept it. I will."
Grandma nodded, pleased, but continued like an army on the march. "Lady Alyth is unconventional, dear child. You must go to Trinity without illusions. For instance, you will be as devoid of covering as all her other young ladies."
"Yes, Grandma, you told me this."
"The school you enter is totally feminine, nudity emphases that quality. You will also remain handcuffed throughout your sentence."
"handcuffed for six months!" Right there I should have made a stand but I wasn't believing any of it. It was too much to be true. I was willing to believe I would not enjoy Trinity but was buoyed up a raging curiosity. I found a piquancy in being old and more mature than most of Lady Alyth's pupils. Lady Alyth may have been ten years old than I but certainly no more.
"Dear Lady Alyth maintains a schedule by which all her girls are whipped once every two weeks." Grandma smiled at me with love. "I understand that function is by no means a flogging but simply a painful remainder to each girl of her condition and of the punishments she must bear should she rebel. I have talked with Lady Alyth about this so I can understand its implications. Can you understand them, Avon?"
Once more I should have called a halt but if I was in for a penny, I might as well be in for a pound. And I was sure Grandma was making it sound worst then it was. So I simply told her I would got to Trinity, put in my time, and return at the end of six months still loving Grandma and determined to behave as the heiress to a vast fortune should. Gosh, how ridiculous can a girl be!
I didn't go to Trinity, Trinity came to me in the form of a buxom woman with a steely eye and the skills to subdue any rebellious females. She was respectful, and just before I said goodbye and accompanied her to her car, she asked me to extend my hands. I did so in a state of disbelief to watch her encircle each of my wrists in a band of steel, joined by a single link. I twisted, turned and tugged at the metal bands in simple curiosity. I think the look I gave my Grandmother was one of pure shock.
When it came to parting, I could not embrace the woman who's sentence I must now serve. But she hugged me and whispered over and over that I would find Trinity a wonderful experience and would return to her a better and wiser girl. We both shed tears.
Seated in the car beside Radcliff, I looked at the passing scene and knew myself no longer a part of it. It was very strange to feel the handcuffs on my wrist, and I knew they were telling me of an imprisonment such as I had not believed possible. I held my steel-clad hands demurely in my lap while shame flushed my cheeks and caused my face to burn. By way of helping me over the first bridge, Radcliff struck a constructive note.
"I have to admire you. Miss Adderly. What you're doing can't be a bit easy for a girl your age. Please don't bother to explain, I know the story."
I rejected sulkiness and hurt. A friendly word was welcome and deserved response. "My Grandmother has told me a great deal about Trinity Castle," I said frankly. "She told my about these handcuffs but I don't think cither of us expected I'd wear them this soon. They make me feel terribly ashamed."
"Of course, that's part of their purpose. Did your grandmother explain that you'd be whipped?"
"Once ever two weeks, isn't it?" I tried to sound casual.
"That's right, miss. And you won't be wearing clothes. You won't be wearing anything."
"I understand I'm to be part of a group of girls all in the same condition. That we're kept prisoners without a chance to escape?"
Radcliff actually smiled. "And are you aware, Miss Adderly, that few of the girls are volunteers the way you are obeying your grandmother? They come to us by way of different means."
"You're telling me they were kidnapped?"
"Lady Alyth prefers to use the word 'sequestered'. But, yes, they were snatched from their former life to become the prisoners of the woman rich enough to indulge her whims. It is usually Lady Alyth who will whip you."
The passing scene diluted horror. Everything looked far too normal to make Trinity Castle credible. But just the same I shivered. Innocently I asked, "It sounds awful. They must be terribly unhappy?"
"Not once they get adjusted. You'll see, Miss Adderly. Apart from the handcuffs and being naked, they lead a very plush life. So will you."
by the time we reached the place which was to be my prison for the next six months, the metal has ceased to burn my wrists and the scarlet departed from my cheeks. Radcliff drove us into an underground garage, and that was the last I saw of the world.
I will always be grateful for the sympathy I saw in the eyes of Miss Audrey Wingate. to who Radcliff delivered me with the air of a task well done.
"I'm the junior mistress at Trinity," she offered. "And mostly the girls call me Audrey instead of Miss Wingate. I want you to call me Audrey, and after you've undressed I'll take you to meet the senior mistress. Miss Angela Prelate. You'll find her a bit stern and a lot older than I. Does this all seem hard to believe, dear?"
"I feel like Alice in Wonderland. But don't the authorities, I mean the police, make a fuss?"
Audrey was nice. I could tell right away. She was not much older than I and actually seemed embarrassed as she explained. "Lady Alyth has so much money, no body's going to complain or try to stop her. And none of the girls can complain because they really and truly are prisoners in a portion of the castle especially made over for the purpose. You'll be joining them there. And you mustn't start worrying about escape. You can't escape, none of them can. No girl every has escaped from Trinity Castle." She again smiled. "Now please let me have your hands."
It was nice to be rid of the handcuffs. I shivered in distaste as my fingers explored where they had been. But there was no marks, no wound.
They had left my wrists as virgin as before. The brand they had burned was in my mind.
Audrey's voice was gentle, "And now your clothes, dear. Please take everything off."
It was not that I hadn't been told, but was still the hardest task I had ever had to do. Audrey did not discretely turn away but stared expectantly in a manner to compel me to reach for the first of the fastenings by which I would bare my body for anyone in Trinity Castle to see. But steadfastly I completed an act which violated all the preconceptions of my life. With Audrey Wingate watching it wasn't a bit like having a bath or stealing an erotic peek in the mirror. Even with a girl as sweet as the one who watched, this baring of my body had something about it akin to rape. When I had made myself naked, I stared back, using all of my self control to avoid the urge to try and cover myself.
Audrey invited with two open metal jaws and I found my hands reaching out for the steel. The wrists meekly placed themselves within the circlets and Audrey clicked them snugly shut. Trinity had me for sure now!
"I know how you feel, dear, but this first embarrassment will pass. Tomorrow the shame will go away as you find yourself like all the other girls. What comes next will be bad for you but come along and let's get it over with."
Miss Angela Prelate was busy lecturing her class of naked girl when we arrived. She stared at me as if angry at me for interrupting, while twenty more youthful pairs of eyes positively ate up my nakedness. Perhaps they were recalling the first time they shed their clothes. There were a couple of giggles that were instantly halted.
"Welcome to Trinity, Miss Adderly." Miss Angela Prelate was delightfully formal. "You can take any empty seat, and join our class." She turned to the junior mistress, "Thank you, Miss Wingate, that will be all."
It appeared there was nothing more to be said or done but for moments I stood in disarray while my chained hands sought and failed to find a place to hide. But under the compulsion of twenty-one pairs of eyes, I hurried to the nearest vacant seat. I had to fight down an instinct to flee. The seat was outrageously cold upon bare skin.
When class was dismissed. Miss Prelate had no interest in me but the girls were wonderful, introducing me to the luxury in which they lived and warning me of pitfalls by which punishments were earned. All of them were serious in telling me to forget escape.
When Radcliff chained my ankle at bedtime I would have been shamed had not all the other girls been similarly chained to their beds. I could tell it no longer bothered them any more than did the handcuffs. They talked a bit before drifting off to sleep. But in the darkness I lay in the narrow cot, hatefully conscious of the embrace of metal on my skin, and going over and over in my mind my memories of the outside world I would not behold again for six long months.
Morning brought my introduction to routine. But in the late morning I was ordered to go and talk with a girl who would take me one step further from reality, and be an object lesson I should not forget. I was given directions to find her. Pandora's box would have been kid's stuff compared to what I found.
She was naked. Her back was turned to reveal the scarlet imprints of a whip from shoulders to above her knees. She stood in the uncaring pose of weariness with raised arms and wrists tight strapped well above her head. As I walked softly into her line of vision I knew I had interrupted her thoughts. But her smile was curiously warm. Such was my first meeting with Miss Ginevera Anderson.
To me this girl was a miracle in her acceptance of a condition I first saw only as torture until she explained she had just received the whipping each of us must bear once every second week. And since my initial introduction to the routine was to happen on the following day, I now understood the reason. I would now have twenty-four hours in which to avoid hysteria when the moment came.
We questioned each other and answered each other until we were interrupted by an attractive man in a place where I had been assured no male was allowed. In confusion I fled back to Class to wonder about a girl who either had an incredible tolerance for pain or had become so accustomed to being whipped she endured each ordeal as simply "one of those things." The true beginning of my imprisonment at Trinity took place the following morning.
The same place, the same horizontal bar above with the twin straps hanging motionless. I was escorted there by Audrey Wingate who said that since I had seen it yesterday there was no need for explanations and would I please stand beneath it and raise my arms. It was so damned matter-of-fact I could have screamed.
Anyway you took Audrey Wingate, she was a sweetheart, and I came close to asking what she was doing in a place like this. But I was very much confused and simply did as I was told, and looked up as each strap circled a wrist and was buckled tight behind the bar. Audrey was strong and apologetically explained the Rule which said every stricture must be drawn as tight as possible. It was very tight indeed to tell me most clearly I could not free myself, and to make me aware of a terrible vulnerability in standing thus exposed.
"It's much the best position, dear," Audrey explained helpfully. "It makes all of you available to the whip and whatever bits a mistress may wish to punish." She shrugged. "I'm terribly sorry, dear, but you'll come through okay. I have to leave you now but don't be bothered if you have to wait a while, you won't be forgotten."
She was right, I waited a while. Quite a long while. Until rewarded by my first meeting with Lady Alyth Hardcastle. She immediately came across as a woman used to being obeyed and exercising power over others. But there was also an instinctive affection there, too, as often happens between girls. She wasted neither words nor motions but enfolded me in her arms, thrusting breasts against me. It seemed as natural as was her kiss upon my lips. I instantly felt that anything this woman did had to be right.
"My mother and your grandmother grew up together," she whispered in my ear. "Your grandmother has always been sweet to me and I'm glad she's sent you here. I feel close to you already and I'm glad you're not a child."
She stood back while we exchanged banalities. "You've been told all you need to know," she said at last. "I won't bore you by repeating the Rules. You do understand I'm going to whip you now?"
"Yes, I know. I'm shivering and I'm frightened. And I don't understand this business of being whipped. I wish I did."
Lady Alyth's laugh was the tinkling of silver bells. "Darling, it's so very simple and I refuse to be ashamed of it." Once more she held my nakedness close. "I simply love whipping naked girls. So my girls have to put up with it whether they like it or not. There's enough of you so that once every two weeks works out well. It means one or two of you will receive my lash each day."
I could not help but share her smile, it was infectious. But there was nothing ugly about this glorious creature who bestowed affection before pain. I knew myself in a trance and held myself as from a distance saying, "If it gives you so much pleasure, I'll try and not be silly about how I behave." Ruefully, I added, "I don't suppose I'll behave very well."
Never in my life had I been whipped. I had no background of experience on which to call for help or draw comparisons. I had approached what I must now endure with a tongue in cheek conviction that it would never happen at all or be a discomfort at worst. When Lady Alyth disappeared behind my back, I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth just in case it turned out worse than expected. Holly cow! Was I an innocent!
The stroke across my bare shoulders was so much worse than anything I had dreamed that I tensed in shock. It burned! It was much more than mere burning but there aren't words to adequately describe the pain. The first one or two are always difficult for a new girl, but they're not half as bad as you think they are or could be. Lady Alyth kissed the wound she had planted upon my skin before adding cheerfully, "We will now continue."
We continued for sure. I managed not to scream and the second and third blows impacted bare skin. I remember my breasts heaving as I gasped and kicked uselessly. The straps held me as thought I was a child. When the leather impacted its sixth kiss, I could hold my tongue no longer. "I'm sorry, Lady Alyth, but I can't stand this. I absolutely take any more. Please stop."
She did not answer with words but her fingertips explored the burning lines upon my skin.
"Every girl says what you've just said. You did well to reach six before coming out with it. You can stand it very well and we've only fourteen more to go."
"Fourteen! At that moment it might have been a hundred. In a purely animal revolt I flung myself against the leather straps confining my wrists and generally made an ass of myself with what kicking and jerking motions I could manage. There were also statements and pleadings I look back upon with shame. In the end I stood gasping and completely helpless as Lady Alyth swung the whip and picked up the count. Each stroke across my flesh drove all other thoughts out of my mind save the pain. Right then I did not believe I would or could come to accept twenty strokes every fortnight.
I collected my twenty, the punishment Lady Alyth always referred to as "Trinity's routine reminder." When they were done and I was kissed, I really felt surprised and cheated that I had not died. Or at least lost consciousness. I had never been more keenly alive or aware of myself as at that moment. Lady Alyth stood back to survey my figure, still holding that awful whip. She actually laughed.
"You see, darling, you're not dead! And you're not bleeding. And I'll wager you never felt better in your life."
I had no reply. Perhaps a moan or two which were probably now of thankfulness rather than of pain. I hung in my strapped wrists, not caring about anything.
"We usually leave our girls hanging for a while after being whipped," she said as it speaking of some trivial domestic routine. "Standing the way you are now gives a girl time to collect herself and do a bit of thinking. She'll also realize the punishment was not as bad as she thought it was while it was happening. I really ought to leave you to stand like that, but since I'm a friend of your family and you came to me on a voluntary basis, I'm going to invite you to tea."
It was all very funny but I had no wish to laugh. In fact, I wanted that cup of tea so bad I was actually feeling joy at the idea. As the leather bands were unbuckled, my arms fell limply to my sides. Lady Alyth gathered my once more in loving arms. This was my introduction to Lady Alyth Hardcastle, a noblewoman who enjoyed whipping girls and maintained a stable of them for that purpose. Now, for six months, I was to be one of them!
We had our tea in Lady Alyth's office, and I lifted the cup to my lips with both hands because her Ladyship had once more locked handcuffs upon my wrists. I had, by no means, become accustomed to this restraint. But, perhaps in time?
"I'm curious about you, Avon, and what you expected to find here at Trinity Castle. Please tell me, don't be shy." Lady Alyth beamed at me across the desk.
"I did something my Grandma considered very sinful. She felt that I had to be punished. She gave me my choice of being disinherited or coming here." I shrugged. "It was a messy affair with a man and I was disgusted enough with myself that some sort of punishment seemed in order. And, anyway, I love my grandmother. So here I am. I've been here a couple of days and I've already been chained and whipped." I managed a small smile. "Is this par for the course?"
"Yes, dear, it's the same for every girl. But now, if you don't break any of our rules, it's a whole two weeks before it's your turn again. Your grandmother wants me to treat you the same as all the other so you won't be getting special privileges, unless, of course, I want you to share tea with me, like now." Lady Alyth's eyes twinkled. "After all, I do own the place. I can do what I like with any of you. I've been called both a saint and a sadist. But either way, it's been tremendous fun!"
"Must I take the Class seriously? I'm passed the age for school, and I don't think Miss Angela Prelate approves of me."
"You're better off in the Class than in a cell, dear. I can't have you wandering around Trinity Castle aimlessly. I can keep track of the girls by simple confinement. Now, Avon dear, if you're a bit uncertain, would you like to be placed in a cell for a day or two instead of being placed in the Class? I can't imagine that you'll enjoy it. But I never cease to wonder how different girls can be." Lady Alyth busied herself with the tea things. "I have a daughter, you've met her, name's Erin. She's a pure delight and loves this whole creation of mine. She can't get enough of it. The girls adore her and so do I. So, if you would like to try the cell for a couple of days, I'll put Erin in there with you for the first day and night, so you won't be morbid. Would you like that?"
"Are you sure you're not being kind to me because of Grandma?"
"I'm not being kind at all. Being locked in a cell isn't much fun for anyone. But at least it doesn't hurt. Want to try tomorrow?"
"Yes, please."
"Well, that looks after that. Now I'm sure you have other questions."
I had a hundred questions but most of them sounded silly even to me, as though I was complaining or a masochist seeking pain. I tried the most obvious. "I'm told it's impossible to escape from this place. Is that true? Has no girl ever managed to get away?"
"It's very true indeed, dear. Try it yourself. In these two days have you seen an opportunity?"
I shrugged that one off. I was going to be a prisoner for six months and that was that. I tried the second on my list. "You've spoken of breaking the rules and being punished accordingly, Lady Alyth. I don't want to be punished. That is not corporal punishment. Would you mind telling me what type of punishments that is? I mean, is the whipping the only punishment?"
Lady Alyth smiled. "You'll find out if your disobey the rules," was all she would say.
After a sip of tea, she added, "Don't forget Trinity Castle will not tolerate sulkiness or pouting." Then added, "A serious attempt at escape will earn your the worst punishment."
From the silence that followed, I guessed that was all she would say on that subject. I was to find out later that caning the palms of our hands was a favorite. Even caning the bottoms of a girl's feet was included in the Trinity list of punishments. And there were others, even more terrible. One day was to turn a corner and find a girl gagged and tied viciously to a post, with whip marks crisscrossing her large breasts. But that was a little in the future.
I tried another subject. "How about Audrey Wingate? Is she a pupil or one of the guard? Is she subject to punishment the same as the rest of us?"
"Darling, they are called mistresses. Angela Prelate is the senior mistress and Audrey Wingate is the junior. They have my full confidence and can both assign punishments to you for breaking the rules."
I had to be content with that. There was another subject, one I was a little hesitant to bring up. "With a group of young, healthy girls such as you keep, you can't ignore the subject of ... well, sex. I guess there's no men around-at least most of the time. There was that Westley Wallace but he's married. There could be some of the girls who just have to find some outlet for the sexual urge? I mean...." I didn't want to tell her that lesbian sex was the real reason I was there.
"I guess the girls do get horny," she chuckled. "It's only natural. I'll admit I don't make a practice of being inquisitive about what goes on in the dorm. I have suspicions some of the girls have formed lesbian relationships. I am not a lesbian myself but I do realize the need for an outlet, a sexual outlet for the young women here. It's simply a subject I don't care for so as far as I'm concerned it doesn't exist. But there is my nephew, Westley. He's heavily involved with someone at the moment but Westley is my heir and will someday own all of Trinity Castle. I'm afraid I've granted him a great deal of freedom, including access to the girls. He's rather thinks of it like a private harem in which he can pick a different girl each night. I see no harm in this, it seems to be good for all concerned. I've told the dear boy to spread his favors around and not stick with one girl. That is, except for the girl he is presently involved with. Ginevera has been my favorite girl for some time but that is a story I won't bore you with. I do wish you were here permanently, Avon dear, I think after you've been trained in Trinity ways you could take her place. But this is for the future and we won't worry about it now. I think best you go and join the other girl at lunch."
If ever a girl was baffled and bewildered, it was I. I made my way through the stone passages after being dismissed from Lady Alyth's presence. Since I had been under Lady Alyth's supervision, I was not questioned about being late, although Miss Prelate insisted upon an examination of the whip marks I was beginning to wear with pride. Everything was crazy and, as far as I was concerned at the moment, I was content to leave it that way. Carefully I watched how the other girls handled knife and fork with chained hands.
I spent the first ten days of my imprisonment absorbing female gossip, which turned out to be more colorful and diverse than I would ever have suspected from young women. They took me far deeper into the affairs of Trinity then Lady Alyth. The most informative was Lady Alyth's own daughter, who had happily spent twenty-four hours with me in a cell, our wrists handcuffed, our ankles chained, and locked around our necks an iron collar. When Erin was taken from me on the second day, I found myself in a cage of bars and stone in a quite shocking loneliness and silence. If I walked across my small prison, the clatter of the leg irons seemed almost indecently loud. What I principally learned from this solitary confinement was that Lady Alyth was absolutely right. Being locked and chained in a cell and being left alone was no fun.
My most vivid impression were of the Class where I rapidly discovered Miss Prelate did not share my conviction of being too old for such nonsense. Miss Prelate took her class seriously. When my inattention was made evident by pointed questions I was politely requested to leave my desk and stand before the class in evident disgrace. I was read a formal lecture which was as much for the other girl's benefit as mine, then told to hold out my hand, palm up, to receive the cane. That request left me staring at her in blank dismay, until I was crisply informed that the longer I took to obey the order, the more severe my punishment would be. My cheeks on fire, I extended an unwilling arm. I felt a fool and shocking afraid.
It was, of course, quite painful. My hands had never been caned any more than my back had been whipped. It was surprising how much burning pain a small yellow cane can inflict upon one's soft palm. I squealed and bend over.
Miss Prelate allowed several moments to pass before uttering, "This time, Avon, I wish you to kneel. There is no symbolism in the act, it simply enables me to deliver a more accurate stroke. Kneel and extend your other hand."
I could scarcely believe my ears. Surely I had suffered enough for so trivial an offense. I look Miss Prelate in the eye to say, "I simply can't." I could positively feel the sensation my declaration sent through the room. Miss Prelate's voice was ice.
"Hogwash, Avon. I had intended to give you two strokes on each palm. For this impertinence you will receive three. On your knees and extend your hand."
There was a force in the woman I could not resist. And behind her was all the power of Trinity, itself. Suddenly I was kneeling to perform the task. I looked up and begged, "Please, not so hard. Miss Prelate. Please, not so hard."
It was every bit as hard, perhaps harder due to the wider arc the cane could make before hitting my hand. I could not suppress my cry of pain as I knelt before the class, hugging both hands between my legs. After a brief period, the senior mistress of Trinity said, without emotion, "Since you appear to find this difficult, Avon, and because you are new to our rules, you may receive your other four strokes upon your bottom. Stand and touch your toes."
What a hell of a choice for a girl to have to make! I think it was partly the shame and humiliation of bending over and having your bottom and pussy protrude behind you towards the class. The four strokes were cruel and hurt but weren't as bad as the whip had been upon my back just a short time before. I dabbed at the tears I could not control when it was over. I thought of flight to Lady Alyth but remembered her statement that she never interfered. If I had made such an error, I could well believe Miss Prelate would have me flogged.
For the rest of that day my hands were sore as was my bottom. The girls sympathized and told me of their own misadventures with the cane but I could not help realizing my hurt palms and bitter shame was no big deal. In the days that followed I came to the bitter realization of paying more attention to what Miss Prelate had to say than I had done before. It was during this time I was again summoned to Lady Alyth's office. "Miss Prelate tells me she had occasion to give you strokes of the cane on your hands, dear. I am sure you enjoyed it, but I am also sure you found it trying. Do your hands still hurt?"
"They still hurt some. Please, Lady Alyth, don't allow that to be done to me again. It was awful beyond words."
"It will be done to you again if you're bad. But you're a sensible girl. Come, let me give you a great, big hug."
Once again I was at sea in a mixture of emotions. Lady Alyth's arms were comforting but it was an embrace I could not return. My cuffed hands hung limply before my sex as my nakedness was squeezed and kissed. Her next words caused me only fresh concern.
"I have two girls to be whipped today, Avon, and I think you deserve a little diversion. Something to make you forget the shame I know you feel. I want you to come with me to where they are being prepared. And I want you to watch the manner in which they accept the pain. These are two young women who have adjusted admirably to Trinity and I am proud of them. Come along, dear, I want to take off your handcuffs. But there is one other little precaution I must take."
I followed the woman who I now thought of as my mistress to the room of memories. The little precaution turned out to be a collar locked around my neck and from it a short chain to the wall so I must stand and watch what was to befall the two girls. With a quickening pulse, I leaned back against the wall. I knew my chain and collar would hold firmly and did not bother to test them with tugs. Once again, Lady Alyth's magic had captured my imagination to compel my innocent interest in what was taking place.
They were two beautiful girls I had talked to the day before. They had spoken of their coming ordeal casually. They now stood ten feet apart, their hands raised to the horizontal bar to which their wrists had been strapped tight, to expose them totally to Lady Alyth. They had been well trained and were docile to a point I never expected to obtain. Their simply request clutched at the heart to tell the pathway of pain I was expected to follow. I held my breath as the girl who was first to accept her punishment said, "Please whip me, Lady Alyth. Please whip me up and down my back."
Lady Alyth did exactly that.
I realized I was watching a formula repeated everyday. If there was a fire in her ladyship's loins, it was appeased daily by this total possession of a girl. I felt each blow as they fell upon the innocent, naked back of the girl who had done no wrong. All of them had told me that their only offense was to be a girl and to possess a beautiful body to arouse the noblewoman's lust. For this they were condemned to chains and slavery for life. They had spoken in awe of Lady Alyth making a present of a girl to someone to whom she felt a debt, an obligation, or simply an affection. Such girls disappeared from Trinity and did not return. It was the wish of all of them to thus be given. The main reason, I gathered, was the hope that such giving would lead them to enslavement to a man. Or, if they were lesbians, to a woman who would keep them safe and secure and greatly privileged while engaging in nightly sexual activities.
I am ashamed now to tell of the erotic joy I discovered in watching these two girls being whipped. True, there was nothing I could do about it, I had to stand against the wall. But it was still a highly erotic scene, made even more so when Lady Alyth, herself, stripped to reveal her own beauty. I winced with ever stroke and shared the maiden anguish of their flesh. Sometimes they caught my eye and tried to smile, but never did they scream or make complaint. They accepted their twenty strokes with only gasps and moans. It was never a slow or easy punishment and I had the feeling Lady Alyth was drawing it out for my sake. When it was done I was left to stand, chained to the wall, in company with the two whipped girls.
Chained by my neck to the wall, I stood there like a dummy while the two whipped beauties panted their way back into the world. At least I knew how it felt so we had that in common.
"We try not to scream," said one of them in apology. "It's such a horrible sound. Isn't Lady Alyth wonderful?"
"She'd never whip us harder then we can handle," offered the other. "We feel safe with her because she's so very wise and clever. If Miss Prelate whipped me twice a month, I think I would die."
"We have to stand here like this for quite a while now," said the first girl. "I expect you'll have to stand there, too. But at least you won't be hurting. Your marks are fading nicely from the first time you were whipped, and it will be at least a week before you get another. Lady Alyth gets so much pleasure out of whipping us, I almost feel the pain is worth while. Is that how it was with you?"
That was exactly how I had felt. I told them so and shared their grins, buddies with whom I had passed through travail. Still curious, I asked, "There's all these things around the walls, these frames and instruments. What's a girl have to do to get herself fastened in one of them?"
"Oh, you mean the stocks and pillory and the rack. Every girl gets them sometime. But mostly because she's been whipped enough that Lady Alyth doesn't consider it wise to whip her anymore. I'd a lot sooner have the twenty strokes then stand in that damn pillory all day. After the first hour you know for sure you can't bear it anymore but it goes on and on and on." She laughed humorlessly. "It's pretty much the same with all of those horrible things. Stay away from them if you possibly can."
I should have left well enough alone but I was in the grip of an erotic curiosity. "I was told one of the bunch got the soles of her feet whipped," I said. "She couldn't possibly stand still for it so I suppose there's some way she's fastened. Is it one of these things here?"
"Of course it is, silly. They simply use the stocks. They set her on the bench, make her put her ankles inside the holes provided, and then lower the yoke so she couldn't move her feet to save her life. The whole affair is then padlocked so she hasn't a hope of getting free and has to sit there and look at the place where her ankles are held tight and beyond which her feet have disappeared. When they whip her soles, she can't do a thing expect sit or throw herself around while she watches what's happening to her feet. Look, Avon, do anything you must to avoid this one. It's just too wicked. They call it the bastinado."
Foolishly I felt myself immune from such horrors because, after all, Lady Alyth was a friend of grandmother's and I was sort of family. Lady Alyth would never do such things to me. But I'm ashamed to admit this punishment of girls was imposing a greater and greater fascination I could not control. Innocently I asked, "What about the rack?"
"Well, you know what that is, surely. Your wrists are fastened at one end and your ankles at the other. The big wheel they turn, which pulls them in opposite directions. Trinity doesn't take it far enough to break bones or tear muscles but they stretched you out to flatten your breasts and your belly so you're hardly a girl. Your wrists and ankles are quite sure you're going to die. If they leave you like that long enough you finally wish you could."
Number two laughed at my obvious dismay. "Don't worry, darling, none of this has to happen to you. Just watch your behavior and be polite to Miss Prelate. She's the one who puts you in stuff like this.
Unfortunately I simply could not shut up. I was impelled to know what the future might come. "They brand girls, don't they? And hang them by their thumbs? Surely that doesn't happen?"
Their laughter was hearty. "Of course it does, silly. If you look closely at some of the girls, you'll see the marks. Hanging is the sort of thing they don't want to talk about but I expect they'll tell you if you ask. Hanging by your thumbs doesn't leave much marks but it sure does put an imprint in your mind."
"Are you a student of the Spanish Inquisition," asked the other, "or are you expecting to get it all? You'll go home after six months so I would think you're quite safe. Stop torturing yourself." They were so sweet. They had suffered intense agony while all I was forced to do was watch. They were concerned that I should avoid the implements of torture around the room, quoting Miss Prelate as my enemy because they were quite sure Lady Alyth would use none of these things on a girl related to someone she held in high esteem. I saw them as two sweethearts I longed to help. But there was no way I could release their strapped wrists or unlock the collar from my neck. We talked a lot, mostly my questions and their answers. We admired each other's breasts and narrow waists, together with chuckled about men we had known. They told me about the manner of their kidnap. And of their agonies of adaptation to Trinity. But each insisted they were happy now, seeing the Class as their principle punishment but enjoying all the rest.
They were slaves owned by a beautiful woman who would never let them go. They accepted that and loved it.
In this chronicle of the things Trinity did to me I must certainly include the visit of my grandmother to Lady Alyth and myself. That Lady Elizabeth Pankhurst should thus honor Trinity was distinctly an occasion, a time for a girl prisoner to learn the rules by heart and recite them on demand. Lady Alyth was obviously pleased to a degree which told me of her affection for my grandmother. I was informed of the impending visit well before it was scheduled to take place and spend the waiting speculating as to what I would say and how I would behave. But in this, Lady Alyth was well ahead of me, so I was giving no chance to speculate about anything, and come to realize all I had to do was be obedient. That was what Grandma would most wish to see, a granddaughter who had become obedient and docile beneath authority. Lady Alyth had left me with no doubt as to how I should act.
"You can be delightfully docile," she told me earnestly. "And that's your cue. I'll arrange things so your grandma will feel sure she's got a granddaughter on the straight and narrow path." She paused to look at me searchingly. "Or are you going to implore her to take you home, that Trinity is just too much?"
Strangely, I had not thought of that. I was pledge to my six months imprisonment with whatever sufferings it might entail. I knew this is what my grandmother desired and would not cheat her from this wish. I had seen myself as fully clothed and without the handcuffs, sharing tea with grandmother and Lady Alyth in the lounge in an atmosphere of quite normalcy. I could not have been farther from the truth, because an hour before she was due to arrive, I was inserted within a cell to be in chains, hand and foot, and to remain completely naked with a collar locked upon my neck and a length of chain fastening me to the wall. I came close to tears in realizing my impotence. I sat in my chains upon the hard bench to reflect that in the coming interview I couldn't possibly win-I was a slavegirl serving my time in Trinity, and in this context I must be viewed.
It was pure heartbreak. There was the old lady I adored beyond the bars, peering in at me as if I were an unusual specimen in a zoo. With her stood Lady Alyth in the silence of complete authority. My grandmother examined my chained nakedness a long while before she spoke. "Darling, I want your happiness so much. Are you discovering this is the path to it? Please tell me the truth."
I told her the truth, simply saying, "Yes, Grandma, Lady Alyth has been very kind. The way you see me now is the way by which I've come to realize how stupid I was when I was free. Please don't worry about me, I am very happy."
"But, Avon, dear girl, this cell ... these chains...."
"They are part of my training. Grandma." I turned to reveal my back with the whip marks. "You see I have been punished and I deserved whip. You knew me better than I knew myself."
Looking back I see myself as an outrageous hypocrite. I must have made an astonishing picture, chained and naked inside that cage. And to profess pleasure at this punishment was indeed stretching it a bit. Lady Alyth refused to catch my eye but Grandma was hearing from my lips the words she most desired. I lied deliberately, comforting myself with the thought that six months is not forever. What I wanted to do and perhaps should have done was to fight my chains in anger and plead forgiveness; The chains by which I was fastened would have made a dramatic noise for such a performance. Grandma would have been shown my whipped back with all the moaning and protests of incredible suffering I could muster up. She would have taken me home and Lady Alyth would have let me go. Perhaps this is what I should have done but the two women looking at me through the bars exerted upon me a profound effect. So there I stood, a naughty girl, suffering her punishments and grateful for this cleansing of her sins. Oh, shit!
We stood and stared through the bars until I began to feel silly and become conscious of a blush. Grandma had never seen me naked, quite probably she had never seen any woman naked, and I wondered what she must be thinking of the vision she beheld. It would have been nice if I could have reached out and touched her hand. We might have kissed and unlocked a treasure house of words embarrassment now denied. But the chain from my collar snubbed me short to make me a remote figure undergoing a punishment I had just acknowledged as well deserved. Lady Alyth said nothing and it was my grandmother who finally exclaimed, "But, my darling girl, are you sure everything is truly all right? You seem so ... well, so ... so punished." She turned to Lady Alyth. "My dear, are you sure Avon is really all right? Is she truly a model prisoner? I've never seen her like this before and it's all so strange."
I suspect Lady Alyth had been awaiting this cue. Smiling in her assurance of authority, she patted Grandma's shoulder reassuringly and then unlocked the door to my cell. My heart leaped in thankfulness but there was even more to come. She knelt and took the leg irons from my ankles, and then took the chain from my collar, but left the collar and my wrists in their handcuffs. When she stepped back and motioned to the open door, I wore only the Trinity handcuffs, which I lifted over Grandma's head to give her the hug I had longed to give. When I finally stood demurely to await direction, my cuffed hands, as usual, seeking a hiding place they could not find, I think we all felt better. And I could tell my grandmother was reassured and no doubt felt she had me on the proper path to virtue. Lady Alyth led us upstairs to tea.
The British have a Thing about their Tea. The trolley with its pot of steaming brew and its little plates of sandwiches and cookies got grandmother back on track with a normalcy in which she felt in home. My chained hands now had something to do in filling the cups. I knelt before each to hand them the cups of steaming tea. When I had served the sandwiches, I knelt before them with my own cup and saucer. Everything was cozy indeed.
Grandmother was now beginning to view my nakedness without being upset. I am sure that I was quite a picture with my hands cuffed and the collar still around my neck. I think the old woman finally began to enjoy my nudity. In fact, she seemed fascinated with my breasts. She turned to our hostess, "I suppose you keep the collar on the dear girl's neck as a matter of convenience?"
"Of course, it makes it easy to attach her to any handy ring. Just the click of a padlock and the deed is done. It's a constant reminder of imprisonment."
I was actually enjoying myself.
Grandma's visit welded me to Trinity and Lady Alyth more than before. My aged relative had departed so pleased and so convinced of the lightness of my imprisonment, that is would hurt her bitterly if I changed my attitude. My attitude was about the only thing I could change because Lady Alyth kept me handcuffed and naked by day, and added a chain upon my ankle ever night. The girls were right, none of us would ever escape.
I was now more often invited to her Ladyship's office for tea and was told to drop the title and address her by her name. But I never did feel comfortable calling her Alyth. We were not equals and I preferred to address her as Lady Alyth. When I was called from Class to attend these little teas, I could not fail to feel Miss Prelate's disapproval. Lady Alyth was aware of it but laughingly said there was nothing the old sour-puss could do, and if I ever got punished because of it, I must let her know. In this growing relationship, I wondered if she might one day take the handcuffs from my wrist.
by this time I had become aware of the duties of Audrey Wingate as she took the Class whenever Miss Prelate found herself otherwise engaged. She had her own office and was accessible therein to any girl who wanted to see her. She always did her best to cheer us up but frankly admitted her lack of real authority and the need to consult Miss Prelate on any important decision. She was permitted to punish us but if that ran to more than five strokes, she had to refer that to the senior mistress.
I picked up from the others their wishful thought that if Audrey Wingate was properly handled, she could provide an avenue for escape. A number of them that made this breathless approach but found the subject a definite no-no. They were not punished but were told severely never to mention it again. Miss Wingate was solidly on Trinity's side.
The second Trinity correction came and went to leave me with an additional feeling of belonging and a closer feeling to Lady Alyth. There is a strange bond between she who punishes and she who is punished. It is psychological and I can't explain but it is real. In my case I had to believe it was Lady Alyth's personality which brought this about. But nonetheless I approached my second session with the whip in a state of fear. The first time had been a shock from which I had not yet recovered. I knew, of course, the results were never fatal and all the girls had adjusted to what they could not avoid. Presumedly I would be the same. But as I stood naked before the horizontal bar and raised my arms to the waiting straps, I had to wonder about this slavish obedience in which men go to the gallows or girls to their whippings. Surely we should fight with all our strength but somehow the condemned accept their punishment. In my case, I suppose I was aware of a total inability to run away or escape. I have been told before of additional strokes for those who revolted and it just seemed automatic that I should wish to avoid them.
I was whipped in exactly the same manner as before but Trinity had robbed me of the shock so all I now had to cope with was the pain. Having suffered it before, and because of my increasing intimacy with the woman who plied the whip, I reached my twentieth stroke without making much of a fool of myself. The panting and moaning were still there, of course, but I had not screamed. When it was done I was hugged and kissed and told how wonderful I was in taking it so well, a fact I was quite willing to believe. This time I was not taken up for tea but left in the custody of the straps for an hour in which to think upon my humility.
That afternoon, while my back was still a flaming testament to Trinity's system of biweekly whippings, I was summoned to the office of Miss Audrey Wingate to find her flushed and angry and obviously frightened beneath the stern and forbidden gaze of the senior mistress. Miss Prelate had preempted Audrey's chair behind her desk, forcing her to stand as if in judgment. Something was terribly, terribly wrong!
Any girl who has been in Trinity long enough comes to recognize a cycle of small horror seemingly dependent upon Miss Angela Prelate's disposition. We supposed they were triggered by the fatal time of the month. And that turned to vicious punishments for the female prisoners of Trinity. As Audrey and I stood before the desk, we shared a terrible premonition.
The concept was terribly simple and so false. We heard it's venom with tummy's churning in dismay, our minds turmoils of denials which went unheard. We were told in Miss Prelate's cold, hard voice of my plan to enlist Audrey's aid in a duel escape, a plan Miss Wingate had agreed to and was about to begin. We stood in shock as the bitter sentences dripped their poison from a woman's tongue. We were given no opportunity to deny or refute. No one of the three of us had illusions as to what was taking place. The authority vested in Miss Angela Prelate allowed her to frame us at will and get away with it. Our protests were vehement as she pressed the buzzer on Audrey's desk. When Radcliff and a fellow guard appeared we knew we were in trouble up to here.
I'm sure the guards had seen it all before, for them authority was authority and their course was clear. They handcuffed Audrey's wrists behind her back to match mine, and inquired if there was any other service they could perform. Once more we were victims of a relentless hatred. Miss Prelate glared at me before coming out with, "I trust you two young women are prepared to be obedient through your forth coming punishment." Miss Prelate paused to savory the moment. "Should you feel indisposed to reason, I will order those two to handle you by force. What is it to be?"
Audrey and I looked at each other unhappily but there was never any doubt as to what was best. Obedience would be bad enough but to be manhandled was an indignity we could do without out. Shamefully we gave our promise to obey.
Our journey to the class room was a punishment in itself. Neither of us knew why we were taken there or what was to happen. I was still terribly conscious of the caning of my palms and of the fact my feet had not been punished upon the soles. But it was a quite different thing we had to face. We were marched before an attentive class were we were positioned to one side and told to stand still. Miss Wingate was less fortunate and I could easily believe the senior mistress' cruelty was pointed at her rather than at myself.
Miss Prelate's voice was cold. "Kindly strip naked, Miss Wingate. Come here and I'll unlock those cuffs."
The junior mistress made no demure. She turned her back that her hands could be free, then undressed before us all without undue speed or delay. When she was as nude as nude can be, she stood to face twenty breathless young women who knew better what to expect than I.
"Miss Wingate has behaved disgracefully," intoned Angela Prelate. "She has accepted and will receive an adequate punishment." The senior mistress paused for effect. "But I will warn you now, there will be no unseemly noises from the class. None of your will giggle, none of yon will protest. And tomorrow you will accord Miss Wingate the same respect as yesterday. What you see this afternoon is merely an incident in Miss Wingate's career, a career I'm sure all of us wish her well in."
It was one of those times a girl longed to scream. Miss Prelate turned her naked victim around to handcuff the unresisting wrists with a precision I could easily tell made the chrome circlets far too tight. She pushed a wooden box against the wall and, as though the act had been rehearsed, Miss Audrey Wingate stood upon it with her back to the class and reached up above her head to slip her handcuffs over and into a waiting hook. When this was done the box was kicked aside to leave a nude girl standing on her toes to await what she guessed was about to come. It occurred to me at that moment that the victim had a truly lovely figure with firm, large breasts that were now pressed hard against the wall. Needless to say, her bottom was thrust out behind in perfect position to receive the cane.
Miss Wingate did not look back but kept her eyes riveted upon the wall. Angela Prelate now possessed herself of a cane, flexing it delightedly back and forth for the class to observe. Looking at the rapt, attentive faces I beheld those who were prepared to enjoy the feast of anguish soon to come and some who looked as is they might share that anguish. Here and there a sympathetic smile came in my direction to tell all too clearly my turn would come.
"I am about to begin," Miss Prelate said grandly. "I command all of you to watch and thus be properly educated as to the wages of sin." The cane cut the air with a shocking whine.
Miss Audrey Wingate was well and truly thrashed by a steady succession of blows. When one cheek proclaimed itself unfairly favored, Miss Prelate moved to the opposite side to correct the balance. The twin rounds went from white to red and then to scarlet which, in its turn, slowly gave way to wicked purple. The punished young woman with her hands held high and the steel cuffs biting at her wrists did her best to keep still and make no sound but as Angela Prelate continued punishing the tender flesh, Audrey moved from foot to foot, sometimes kicking at the air, and striving to move the target of the cane. Miss Wingate moaned steadily but did not scream. It was a long time before blood began to fleck the puffed and wicked weals. But when it did. Miss Prelate put away the cane and directed her class to learn a lesson from what they had beheld. To the punished girl she added, "You will stand as you are, Audrey Wingate, as an added lesson to all."
The rest of Audrey's punishment was a bizarre horror, a tableau of cruelty to delight the Spanish Inquisition at its worst. I stood there wishing the floor would swallow me up while sometimes Audrey stole a glance in my direction and tried to smile. The darkening, punished flesh of her bottom must have been a constant anguish while the steel cuffs added a distress she tried constantly to lessen by stretching on tip toes in a painful effort. I am sure that for Miss Angela Prelate it had been a deeply satisfying experience.
It was still early afternoon when the box was again pushed beneath Audrey's feet. After coming off the hook, her joined hands hung limb before her. Angela Prelate roughly unlocked one cuff then drew her hands behind her back and re-locked it. I had discovered unhappily that having your hands fastened behind your back was considerably different from having them fastened in front. Audrey and I could not even hold hands. But at a signal from Miss Prelate we followed meekly from the room to whatever the afternoon might still hold.
It was a different room, one I had never seen before. It was a large chamber, well lit for the occasion. As its centerpiece there was a large structure of hardwood and padlocks which sent my heart to zero. We stood there, looking at the massive timbers and guessing at their intent. Our attention was drawn to a long wooden bench or seat which ran the full length of the object of our concern. Miss Prelate's voice had come almost gracious in the saturation of her senses arising from the discoloration of Audrey's seat. "I am bearing in mind, Miss Adderly, that you received the Trinity correction this morning, and I can tell from the marking on your skin that her Ladyship has given extra attention to that portion of you on which you sit. For that reason you did not share Miss Wingate's thrashing. Kindly sit down."
I stepped within the timbers facing what I presumed to be the proper direction and sat down upon the hardwood seat. Instantly my bottom protested but I held in any vocalization. I knew it would be hard for me but Audrey's bottom was in much worse condition than mine and would hurt her far more. This was not going to be a good day for Audrey Wingate.
"You will share the bench with Avon, Miss Wingate." There was nothing I could do, there was nothing either of us could do except obey. Cautiously Audrey found her place and delivered herself to pain. I heard her gasp as the hardwood accepted her flesh. At that point Miss Prelate became instructive. "You will notice the half circles in the timbers before your eyes," she said cheerfully. "You will position your ankles within and I will do the rest."
As usual we obeyed but only to discover the half circles were far enough apart to keep our legs spread and our pussies open. But if our mistress wished to behold our sex, what did it matter? The yoke was lowered over our ankles and the hasp slammed down and the padlock snapped. We had no hope.
Now that we were well secured with our feet held solidly, our mistress considered it prudent to unlock our handcuffs, not for any humanitarian reason but because she wished to further utilize our hands. She busied herself with adjustments and the end of which we found ourselves confronted with another board like that which held our ankles but a little smaller and a little closer. The yoke was raised to reveal the waiting half circles and we were invited to place our wrists in. To do this we were obliged to bend slightly forward. When the yoke was lowered, we were, to all intents and purposes, without hands and feet. Audrey and I gazed at each other in a terrible realization we could scarcely move.
"This is a punishment by immobility," Angela Prelate declared. "You will not instantly become aware of its affect. That will come later. As you sit to await release, which in your case will be much delayed, the two of you will find that the bench grows harder and your muscles beg for movement. You two make a delightful picture but I have work to do, so I'll drop in form time to time to make sure you're enjoying yourselves." Her tone became heavy with sarcasm. "Should you succeed in freeing yourselves, would you please come to my office? Goodbye."
We waited until she had gone and closed the door before expressing the opinions we had held in check. But what good does it do? Almost immediately we turned our attention to the manner in which we were secured. It took only a minute to realize there was no chance of freeing ourselves. The padlocks were firm and we couldn't reach them anyway. I turned to examine my companion's nakedness at close range and silently admire her magnificent breasts. But aloud I said, "You must be in agony, sitting like this?"
"You've been whipped, too. We're both in the same boat."
"No, not near as terribly as you. Your bottom is black and blue. The woman's an absolute bitch."
"She's a lonely, frustrated spinster who needs a man," Audrey said with surprising tolerance. "For that matter, we all need a man. And I don't suppose we'll get one. Westley used to bestow his favors upon us from time to time but he's gone again on one of his trips. Jeepers, I wished she had punished me some way I could stand up. How is it with you?"
I told her how it was. It was hateful. I tried to move but failed to shift any part of myself that mattered. The only freedom I still possessed was to fling my head to get my hair out of my eyes. In curiosity I asked, "Why on earth do you stay here, Audrey? You've been punished before?"
"I'm afraid so. I was ashamed to tell you before. You've seen my shame and now you're sharing my punishment. All the girls have seen me punished before. And the only reason I don't pack up and go away is that Lady Alyth is fully aware of what I have to put up with but pays me so much money I can't afford to let it go. I've got a couple of disabled parents who need the money so I'm confined here just as much as you but for a different reason." He paused to look up and down my nakedness. "Darling, I do admire what you're doing. I mean this acceptance of six months imprisonment and punishment. You must love your grandmother a great deal."
I lapsed into silence. There was no use extending sympathy beyond its purpose. Whatever we said we were going to hurt every bit as much as if we kept quite. With the passage of time we realized just how much that hurt would De. Punishment by immobility seems so innocent. In actuality it's deadly. My bottom was not badly wounded but I was soon trying hard to ease it from the pressure on the bench but without the slightest success. My bottom was solidly planted upon the wood and there it was going to stay for as long as my hands and feet were in the stocks. Audrey and I discussed this immobility at length, with her admitting it was an anguish she was finding more and more impossible to bear. I knew what she felt but what the hell could I do! What the hell could either of us do except to sit and moan!
Time becomes meaningless in such endurance. It might have been an hour or two before Miss Prelate came to gloat. She walked around us and the beastly contraption in which our limbs were held several times to assess its effects and our ability to endure. Audrey didn't bother to say a word but I pleaded eloquently for release.
"It's beginning to get to you, isn't it?" Angela Prelate told us. "I'm glad to tell you it gets worse, much worse. And, if it's any comfort, I'll tell you how beautiful you look. You're so sweet and so sad I could positively gobble you up. Would you like me to whip your backs?"
We tensed. It didn't seem possible that on top of our present pain we should be whipped. We kept silent but I'm sure our eyes spoke volumes.
"I know just how you feel," our mistress said in simulated warmth. "I really should whip you but I won't. When I eventually release you, and I refuse to tell you when that will be, I want you to carry a memory of our time together this afternoon. And I also want you to remember that there are so many lovely things one can do to you both whenever I feel the need. I must leave you again. Goodbye."
The hours slowly passed. After a while we lost our shame about making sounds, and when our bottom spoke of agony we moaned. Quite apart from bruised flesh, the pillory or stocks or whatever held us in a posture we willing would have exchanged for anything. Every part of our bodies ached. When darkness came, we were well and truly scared.
When a girl is free the advent of the night is the time for bright lights. But when you can't move your hands or feet, the darkness is no friend and there are no bright lights to ease the fear. Ghosts haunt the dark corners and play upon your mind. For Audrey and myself the coming darkness did little for our mental states, and made us long even more for release.
We could hardly see our mistress when she finally came. The electric lights exploded into being and startled us. I think she had had a drink or two because her communication was unusually frank. "I am sure, dear girls, why I go to the bother of making up your imaginary sins to provide me with an excuse for infliction punishment upon you." She paused as if for effect, but we were too far gone to worry about dramatic effect. She continued. "We are all aware of Lady Alyth's pleasure in whipping the fair skin of young ladies. I have no doubt her enjoyment of this is quite normal and I have no quarrel with it. Most people would adore to whip a girl but lack the courage or money. Lady Alyth has both but I have something even better, and that's the opportunity. I'll admit to treating you shamefully and gloating over your misery while I stand free. Surely you realize, dear girls, that in this world there are those who suffer pain and those who inflict pain. Sometimes it is an economic imposition but it is always present in our society. As the two of you sit there, unable to move, and with your pretty little bottoms screaming for relief, I'm sure you realize this truth. It is not yet time for your release so once more I will say goodbye and leave you to quiet reflection upon the tragedy a slave must endure."
"Piss on her," said Audrey without conviction.
"I hope that someday someone will fasten her in this contraption," I added, also without belief it would happen. The two of us lapsed into silence. We had the night to look forward to, the dark, lonely night. The very dark night, for Angela Prelate had turned off the lights as she left. We could only sit in the dark and on our suffering bottoms and know the dawn was very, very far away. We suffered and we moaned.
I supposed we should have realized there were limits to the time Miss Prelate could use her victims. It must have been somewhere around two in the morning when she came again. She was brisk and decisive. "You may hate me forever, dear children," she said, "but you have given me joy. In your suffering I have found pleasure. I need a man but since there is no men I slake my lust on you. Are you ready for release?"
We assured her instantly that release would be most welcome and would win our gratitude. I don't suppose anything we said mattered a damn, the bitch had probably considered it wise to turn us loose in time to prepare ourselves for the coming new day. Audrey, after all, had her duties, and I had a class to attend. Gratefully we stood on wobbly legs and stretched as best we could limbs long unused.
I was taken to the dorm where I sank in thankfulness upon my cot. My ankle was shackled as usual but I did not care. Neither Audrey nor I managed any sleep while in the stocks and a few hours of sleep before dawn was most welcome.
On the following morning I was summoned to the office, and there, without preamble. Lady Alyth casually asked if I would care to serve the balance of my sentence in the United States.
CHAPTER THREE - Kidnapping
It was in an atmosphere of the morning after that the supposedly happy couple started their next day. Westley absentmindedly forgot the handcuffs and Ginevera discretely failed to mention them. Taking advantage of total freedom at breakfast and after, she announced her wish to pick up some nylons at the boutique down the block. Westley said he would catch up on the stock market while sitting in the lobby to await her return. It was a perfectly normal beginning to a day. When Ginevera went out the door, neither had the faintest idea they would not see each other again for a long, long time.
Ginevera became aware that Westley was falling in love, and she was too absorbed in analyzing her own feelings to notice the long black car following her. When it stopped at the corner, two men got out, picked her up bodily and tossed her into the back seat. Therein another of their kind quickly pressed her to the seat with his superior weight and began buckling a gag into her mouth. The car surged off. The whole operation had taken all of five seconds and left no witnesses would could do more than describe the car as long and black.
Ginevera's hands have been crossed behind her back and tied with cord so tightly as to prevent even the slightest struggle. Her ankles were also bound. By the time the car passed its fifth intersection, bound hands and bound ankles had been joined with a tie so brutal as to bend her backward in a bow. Thus she stayed for the balance of the journey. She was not blindfolded, so caught a view of male features from time to time as she listened in horrified fascination as male voices discussed her body and their plans for it
"We got ourselves a winner this time, fellows," said he who had done the binding. "This gal's got the damndest tits you ever did see."
The bound and gagged girl easily and picked up the story of her fate. Her captors were hoods in their twenties who made their living by a number of minor criminal activities. Discovering that the art of kidnapping was one of the easiest of all, they had made a point of keeping on hand at all times some unfortunate female who had not run fast enough or had not run at all. When they wearied of her, she was sold to any interested individual or a brothel. As far as these boys were concerned, they had an unbeatable system, they had it made.
Ginevera's prison turned out to be a mildewed old house on a dirty street on the outskirts of New York. Her captors were anxious she be properly informed. "It's got a basement, sweetheart, where you can be tied up or locked up. But it's a bit miserable down there so we're gonna start you out on the first floor. There's a couple of fellows upstairs that, whenever they got ten bucks to spare, they can come down and screw you. We'd give you a cut of the take but there ain't no way you can spend it You ain't gonna need money no more-maybe never."
Ginevera's mind was chaos. Behind her was Trinity, Lady Alyth and Westley. Ahead there was only degradation and helplessness. The gag denied her questions but the coarse talk had already answered most of them. She was a piece of merchandise these boys would use to quench their glands, and to pick up petty cash from other males. She wondered what her prison would be like.
It was a sad, sad room. There were no bars on the window but the glass was cracked and the plaster was broken and absent in patches. Wallpaper hung in strips, and the door was without a lock.
"Don't really need no lock, honey," one informed. "You'll be fixed good and safe, and so it will be handy for us to come and go. Every guy ought to have a gal handy around the place somewhere."
She had been tossed upon the bed, and sarcastically told not to move while the trio brewed coffee in her honor. Everything hurt too much to struggle and the gag was still tight strapped within her mouth. The terrible part was that Ginevera knew she had disappeared without a trace. There had been almost no one on the sidewalk and the whole thing had taken only a few seconds. Inside the car she had been pushed down to the seat and was well out of view as the cords were tightly tied around her. No one would ever find her, she moaned to herself, feeling very desolate. Ruefully she wondered if it might not be better to be whipped each day rather than be forced to service a collection of young bucks without morals. She supposed there was always the chance of the police raiding the establishment but that was a very slim hope.
Three men warily stood around the bed as their prize was untied and the gag taken from her mouth. Her clothes were then ripped from her body amid gasps of delight from the male onlookers. Crude comments as to her rather large breasts and perfect legs were intermixed with remarks about her flat tummy and furry patch.
Perhaps there was some kindness in the bunch for they offered her coffee, which did a lot to revive. Hopefully, she asked, "I know what are you going to do to me. But wouldn't you sooner have a lot of money? If you're willing to hold me for ransom, I can promise you a great deal of it. I'll tell you how to get in touch with those who will pay for my safe return. Please, I beg of you."
"No, we ain't getting into no hassle with no ransom. What we wants is a gal. When yous is finished another cup, you can lay down and spread them legs for us."
It was brutal and direct. There would be nothing subtle about this fresh captivity. This trio knew what they wanted and would take it. Ginevera lingered over a second cup.
"Yous finished. Lay down."
The prisoner from Trinity was oddly thankful that she had been naked enough before men and women. It made the stares easier to take. The boys told her of their appreciation of her cooperation, lest they have to exert themselves with forcing her down. But, expecting immediate and rough rape, Ginevera was surprised when they explained the need to tie her down first.
"Yous ain't gonna escape. We jus' tie yous down and use yous when we likes! Don't gotta worry that way."
Each wrist was tied to one of the bedposts with the arms spread wide. Her legs and feet were left free for obvious reasons.
"We could stretch your legs and tie them down, sweetheart," one explained. "But there ain't no need for that. We got you fixed. Ain't no way you gonna get them hands free. An' a gal can do a lot more for guy when she can wrapper her legs around his hips while he screws her." They all laughed at that one. "Honey, you're starting out on a whole new life."
"I don't want to start out on a new life, I've already got a life. And people who care about me. Look, would ten thousand dollars help?"
"You figure that's all you're worth?" The tone was loaded with pity.
"All right then, twenty. Or thirty. Or forty. Surely you can use money?"
"Forget it, honey." The speaker looked around at his companions. "Which one of us gets her first?"
Ginevera looked from side to side at corded wrists from which she could never escape. To have her legs and feet left free doubled the impact of hands thus tied. She could almost feel the lust radiating from these men like a heat. And they would soon be satisfying that lust upon her naked body, she was sure. She could kick and buck and heave but it would avail her nothing. These men would probably just enjoy it. She thought wistfully of Westley and wondered how he would interrupt her disappearance. If he supposed she had run away, she was indeed lost. If he glimpsed the possibility of kidnap, there might be hope yet. Lady Alyth's money would open doors and loosen tongues. But her failure to return to the hotel lobby and her waiting man could easily be seen as no more than desertion, or careless disloyalty to reveal her as less than Trinity's best. The spread-eagled girl tugged fretfully at her bound wrists and prepared her mind for rape.
It was a lesser agony then the captive had supposed. Everything is in the mind, and Ginevera eased her conscious by thinking hard upon the fact that she was not giving in to either these men nor the pleasure of the sex act. As each demonstrated his technique, which ranged from crude to barbaric, she held her silence and tried to ignore what was happening to her body. But at the end of the third rape she was softly crying to herself.
Perhaps she had been fortunate that each man had already been in a high state of excitement and spent his wad quickly. The ordeal was soon over and Ginevera was left to her own devices by men who were more interested in zipping up their pants.
It was a captivity almost absurd in its simplicity. Ginevera's wrists were tied tightly to the bedposts. No matter how she struggled or kicked, there was no escape. When the male creatures stood close to gaze down upon her feminine charms, she had no choice but to bear their eyes and then their fingers or lips.
As terrible as the rapes had been, the worst part was that none seemed interested in ransom. Money just didn't interest them. Or, if it did, they preferred to have the living doll to play with. There very little hope that she would ever see Trinity or Westley again.
It was a simple routine. Each morning and before bedtime, she was taken to the dingy bathroom and left alone with a guard outside the door. Ever watchful for opportunity, but forever frustrated, she came out each . time to yield to a renewed captivity upon the dirty bed. The open door was a constant provocation, offering as it did easy freedom. But the rope around her wrists mocked that freedom and held her. During the times of her rapes she did not think at all.
The two men and the girl from upstairs came to pay respects. They seemed little interested in what was to them just another naked broad. The two men drifted away with promises of returning when they had the ten bucks. But the girl lingered long enough for a greeting of, "Hi, ya, cunt!" which revealed her evaluation of herself and her sex.
Pathetically, Ginevera could not resist the plea, "Please untie me. Please let me loose."
"You think I'm crazy! Shit, they'd murder me."
"So let me loose and help me escape. I'll get you a great deal of money."
"What good's that if I'm dead or cut to bits. Forget it, sister! Spread your legs and don't beef. You'll make out okay."
Over time she picked up some of her captor's name. Brad and Chet were two of the original one. Later she found the quiet one was named Buck. Someone had named them the Roosters and the name had stuck. In their first pride of possession they were no unkind to the captive girl. Each used her as they wished, which, as far as Ginevera was concerned, was too often. But their skill was such it was hard for her to prevent response, a fact which pleased the boys very much. Soon she learned the whore's trick of simulating orgasm. Even with her hands tied, there was still a good deal of motion available to go along with the gasps and moans of make-believe ecstasy. She tried hard to keep her mind on dwelling upon her ultimate fate.
Ginevera remembered reading somewhere of a scene similar to that being enacted by the Roosters and herself, some famous kidnapped girl or another. Perhaps it had been a film star which had been captured and held much for the same purpose as she was. In the story she remembered how the girl had finally gained liberty by turning one gang member against another. She doubted the Roosters would be affected by such attempts. They simply didn't care for her as a person, only as a piece of ass. But she tucked the thought away to await opportunity.
The tied girl spent a lot of time alone while the Roosters spent time with other activities. The girl upstairs, who for some reason was named Prune, was suppose to keep an eye on her but it was a hostile eye. During these long periods of laying with arms outstretched and eyes roving endlessly, Ginevera occupied herself with a hopeless task. Looking from side to side she could see the neat cording of her wrists and the manner in which she was fastened to the frame. It seemed impossible that her constant twisting and fingerings could bring no result. It was pure cruelty for her to lay in the obscene nakedness with arms outspread like angel's wings, while both the window and door whispered freedom. Sometimes, in pure weariness, she slept.
There was plenty of time to think but memories of Westley and Trinity Castle generated only tears. Her immediate possibilities for escape focused on her twice daily journeys to the bathroom, the only time in which she were completely free. Since she was untied and tied again twice each day, it had at first seemed possible for whoever tied her to make a slip and leave a bit of slack. It did not happen. The gang was expert, no doubt from long practice upon a series of young women they cheerfully talked about.
Ginevera discovered it was possible to strike some sort of rapport if she laughed at jokes and seemed to be enjoying the rapes. When she asked how long she would be kept prisoner she was told she was altogether too good to part with. But persistent questioning revealed that the Roosters usually wearied of a girl after a few weeks. She pointed out how stiff and painful her arms became. She was telling the truth. The boys nodded in unconcern and said that every girl made the same complaint and she would get used to it.
One day, when left alone, Ginevera heard what she hoped was voices at the front door. She immediately screamed out cries for help. But the cries did nothing more that summons a female from above, a female armed with a length of leather strap she threatened to use upon two helpless breasts if screams were repeated. Ginevera never did find out what the voices were but Prune apparently knew and was unconcerned. But Ginevera was concerned about the leather she had seen in the girl's hand. A shutter ran through her at the thought of the leather slashing down upon the soft flesh of her breasts. She made wild assurances of good behavior and was ashamed of them after the girl had gone.
The first week passed.
The second week brought a visit from the odd man out of the upstairs trio. He paid his ten dollars and treated Ginevera gently enough to generate hope in the helpless girl. While they were alone, she whispered in his ear, "Please help me. Please, I'll get you all the money you want if you let me loose."
There was no answer. Ginevera's lips were sealed with a kiss she tried hard to return. When he had gotten his money's worth of Ginevera, he joined the Roosters to tell them of her offer to bribe.
It was most definitely an occasion. Ginevera's wrists were freed, the bed pushed against one wall to provide ring side seats for a show which had been enacted often enough before. Miss Ginevera Anderson was compelled to stand nakedly against the wall to face a ring of accusers, including that of Prune, and defend herself against a charge for which there was no defense. She was formally sentenced and Prune was chosen to evoke the gangland penalty with her strap. Prudently it was explained to the prisoner she would not be injured but simply suffer pain to deter future efforts at escape. Ginevera looked around at the grinning faces without mercy. She buried her face in her hands and wept.
Prune and the Roosters enjoyed the tears. They were in no hurry and were willing to wait until the sobs subsided. Ginevera was then invited to step forward and extend chaffed wrists to be joined and bound. When they were tightly secured, willing hands lifted her nakedness up where a stout hook hung from the ceiling. The wrists were placed over the hook, leaving the girl hanging with her feet at least three from the floor. When the boys released her weight her nudity was examined by the only other female present, who declared herself satisfied with the naked girl's exposure. She teased Ginevera's breasts and bottom with the leather strap, indicating to the boys where she planned to strike the punishment blows. Prune's strap, while not as cruel as a crop or whip, was supple and heavy. It impacted Ginevera's skin with an alarming report to leave a perfect imprint of its shape. Moving from side to side, Prune proudly showed her prowess in the punishment of a girl and soon had Ginevera dancing in agony and pleading for mercy. It was when Prune enlisted the aid of a couple of the boys to pull apart and hold Ginevera's legs, exposing the tenderness of her sex, and when the first slap of the strap impacted this private place, that Ma Bristol burst in like an avenging angel. With a gun in one hand and a club in the other, her most unfeminine form defeated an assembly never before confronted by righteous rage. Ginevera was hoisted down and carried from the house with none daring to oppose this armed and obviously dangerous woman.
The wealed nakedness was set firmly in the front seat of the waiting car, which Ma Bristol drove away with an air of having dealt satisfactory with a minor problem, while Ginevera groped her way back into reality.
"Those bastards," Ma Bristol said. "I figured they wouldn't have no guts."
"You're wonderful!"
"I ain't all that wonderful, sweetheart, but I sure do know how to deal with assholes. You okay?"
"I'm okay, they didn't get to do what they really wanted to. I expect I've got a few welts and my hands are still tied but that's all."
"Your hands can stay tied, honey. Guess you know why."
"Oh, sure, and I really don't mind. Oh, Ma, you're so wonderful."
"There's been stuff about you in the news. That woman's who came to get you before has been tossing her money around and making a fuss. I figured they wouldn't fine you so I hot-footed to this damned city and made a few inquiries with some horse traders I used to know. Looks to me like I found you just in time. I should have brought that bitch of a girl along and taught her a lesson. Honeybunch, it's so damned good to have you back."
Ginevera was so immersed in thankfulness it was some time before she began to examine this fresh change in the direction of her life. Once more she found herself captive to an affection which was almost love. But also an obsession by which it was unlikely her hands would be untied. She could count herself fortunate if her ankles did not get tied as well. For the moment she simply did not care. Ma Bristol would not be needlessly cruel and the rapport previously reached would be still alive. It was natural she should ask, "Are you taking me back to the farm."
Ma Bristol grunted disgustedly. "Wouldn't be no use, sweetheart, that's the first place they'd look. They been there once already, poking around and asking a lot of damned fool questions. I got us a cute little broken down farm place in the Ozarks where I can keep you safe and no one's gonna snoop. If I drive all night, we'll be there by morning. Honey, you ain't sorry I done what I done, are you?"
The plaintive question from a heart torn by loneliness reawakened Ginevera's sympathy. She knew it pure chance that she had come into this woman's possession in the first place long ago. Now she owed Ma everything, maybe even her life, and certainly for release from degradation and despair. To be Ma Bristol's tenderly cared for prisoner was pure luxury compared to the hateful room where she was bound down to a spoiled bed. Her answer was from the heart, "Ma, I'm so damned grateful I just don't have the words to tell how good it feels to belong to you again. What a miracle it was to see you scare the daylights out of them guys!" She laughed ruefully. "I can't complain about anything you want to do to me because I was a prisoner before we met and I've been a prisoner ever since, so as far as I can see life has decided that I should be tied or chained or locked up. Sort of my natural condition. It doesn't bother me like it did once, I'm getting used to it."
"You're one in a million, love. Ain't no way I'm ever letting you go again."
Ginevera felt sure she was being ridiculous but all she could feel for Ma Bristol was love. She recalled primitive societies where, if someone saved your life, you owed it to them always. And unquestioningly the woman beside her had save it, if not from death itself, then from something worse. She remembered the bed and her outstretched arms and shuttered.
"Them assholes give you a real bad time, didn't they, honey?" Ma Bristol offered. "I should have killed a couple of them bastards and broke the legs of all the rest, including the bitch. But I was in an all-fired hurry to get you away safe. The feel of your pretty skin over my shoulder was something so good I ain't got no words for it." The horsewoman looked sideways in placid approval. "We're a lucky couple and that's a fact."
Finally free of the city's sprawl. Ma Bristol pulled off the highway to drive down a lonely side road, well away from prying eyes. "I got me a rug in the trunk," she said. "There'll be times you'll need to be covered. Would it brother you much, honey, if I tie your feet? It ain't that I don't trust you but you're a pretty bird that might want to fly away."
"Of course not. I think you should. I'm only human, MA, and if the right opportunity came I might run." Ginevera's pause was heavy with embarrassment. "Whatever you want to do to me, I'm not going to mind a bit. It makes me feel good to be wanted by somebody like you. Why don't you tie my hands properly behind my back, and then neither of us will have to worry about my doing something silly."
It was quickly done. With none to see, Ginevera stepped out of the car and stood erect while the Rooster's bindings were taken from her wrists to be replaced by Ma Bristol's expert loops and knots behind her back. The naked girl was still enveloped with a deep content in once more being free of the soil of gangsters. She then sat sideways in the seat so she could put her feet forward and watch her ankles bound tightly. From now on she would belong to Ma Bristol and that was the end of it. The Roosters, Westley Wallace, and Trinity Castle would fade into memory. Westley would not give her a child and her wrists would not be strapped above her head every second week for the whipping of her back. In a condition which might have drove many girls to hysterics she was increasingly feeling a warm content. And when she swung her bound feet back inside the car and wiggled to find the comfort her bonds allowed, she found herself falling easily and naturally into a decision of the horse ranch Ma Bristol had once owned as though Ginny Green and the disgusting old man called Hiram were forgotten memories. Whenever they stopped for gas or when in heavy traffic, Ma Bristol's rug was drawn up beneath Ginevera's chin to cause them to both chuckle over what others might say if they knew of the fastened nudity beneath the colored wool.
"Ginny and old Hiram been real friendly since they come back from that screwball trip to England to try and pick you up," Ma Bristol said. "Seems like them English cops scared the daylights out of them. Ginny said they was so damned polite you knew for sure they was getting ready to do something real bad. But as far as I can figure all they did was tell Ginny and Hiram to go back home. When they got here they wanted to cry on my shoulder because I supposed all three of us had lost you. Don't you worry none, Ginevera, I ain't sharing you with them nor no one else."
The tied girl snuggled beneath the rug. Trying to free her hands was instinctive. She knew she couldn't get them loose but there was a reassurance about tied wrists when it was a friend who pulled tight the cord.
"Shit, there ain't no use busting our ass to get there," Ma Bristol said in the darkness of early night. "There's a little place near here with cabins where I could pick you up and carry you in without no one noticing. That okay?"
It was a good idea. Ginevera was deposited lovingly upon the bed, her ankles then untied. Ma had enough rope to tie one end of it around Ginevera's neck and it's other neck to an overhead beam where Ginevera could not reach. This left the captive girl with hands tied behind her back but the full run of the cabin and its bathroom. Ma sent out for fried chicken which Ma fed to the girl who could not feed herself. As they comfortably prepared for sleep. Ma said, "I won't ever get tired of having you tied up, honey. It's an incurable bug I got planted in my mind and I ain't sure I should be sorry. Sort of rough on you, though."
"That bug of yours is shared by others," Ginevera laughed. "And when you figure it, sleeping beside you in the bed with my hands tied really isn't all that different to the way any other girl spends her night. Rope simply doesn't bother me any more."
During the rest of their journey Ginevera thought much of this statement, questioning its truth and her own sincerity. She knew herself in a plight that would make most maidens hysterical. But she was not only calm, she was downright relaxed and feeling comfortable. Perhaps she had finally and really turned into a true slavegirl, one dedicated completely to her master, or mistress, as the case may be. She knew that, if given the chance, she would escape to return to Westley and the influence of Lady Alyth. But being owned by Ma Bristol made escape purely academic. She did not concern herself about it.
"I'll bet I know what you're thinking, honey," Ma intruded upon her captive's thoughts. "It don't seem real, does it? I mean, you tied up in the front seat with me, and us hightailing it to a place where I'll keep you hobbled always. It's pretty much like them movies where they're taking a girl to prison and she's handcuffed in the back seat. A body has to wonder what they're thinking about and how they're aiming to behave."
"They're probably frightened. I'm not frightened. And we're friends with each other. Look, Ma, in this place where you're taking me to, won't there be nosy neighbors?"
"Oh, sure, I've met a few of them. But they mostly treat their women pretty rough and their daughters get their little asses stripped from time to time. But there's one thing ain't none of them gonna do and that's go to the cops. Cops is a dirty word."
"You mean, if they drop in for coffee and find me naked and chained to the wall, they're not going to think it unusual?"
"That's right, love. They may be nosy as all get out but that don't stop them minding their own business. They won't see nothin' wrong in me keeping you like that. Makes things a lot easier for us. And I'll be glad to be away from Ginny Green and old Hiram. Them's two what got ideas about you."
Their hideaway was a pure delight, everything sufficiently rustic and decayed enough to not attract attention amidst the hills. It was early in the day so their inspection was immediate. Ma untied Ginevera's feet and noosed her neck to give her a leash by which to lead the naked beauty around the grounds. There was turkeys and ducks, and even a billy goat peacefully chewing a piece of newspaper and eyeing them both with distrust. Needless to say, there were horses. Upon their return journey to the house, Ma Bristol pointed out with pride the various posts and other items to which a young lady could be attached. Ginevera almost felt a privileged visitor.
The farmhouse was more of the same with ringbolts solidly anchored where ever Ma might wish to park her slave. The sight of these iron threats engendered laughter which they shared. "I fixed these just because I was so gosh darned lonesome," Ma Bristol confessed. "I had not idea I'd ever use them. But I would sit over coffee and figure I had you attached to this one or that. It were better than nothin'. But now I got you back, honey, I'm gonna use every one. That pretty neck and little wrists are gonna get fixed for sure. That okay with you?"
"Of course it's okay, though I expect I've nothing to say about it."
"You're damned right, sugar. Wouldn't be no fun for any of us if you could tell me to chain your here or chain you there or maybe not chain you at all. I'm going to stay the boss."
"You've always been the boss. Ma. Have you got anything in that iron pot on the stove?"
"Sure have, sugar, and that tells me you're hungry. How about I chain your feet and give you back your hands so you can tend the fired and get us supper while I sit and watch how pretty you are? Sugar, you is the loveliest thing I ever did see."
That's the way it was. Determined to quench the nagging in her mind, Ginevera stood quietly for her bondage to be rearranged. But she was given no opportunity to run. The ankle bondage was applied before the noose was taken from her neck or the rope from her wrists. Ma Bristol padlocked the chain about her ankles with only a short linkage, allowing her very short steps.
Ma Bristol summed it up, "If only folks knew how easy it was to keep a girl safe around the house, there'd be a lot more bits of chain and padlocks sold. Tell me, honey, if you was aiming to get away and you was fixed as I got you fixed now, what is the first thing you'd have to do?"
Ginevera shrugged. "It's so far from happening, I simply don't know. With my feet like this I'm not going anywhere. I suppose I'd have to try and knock you unconscious and find the key. But I wouldn't do that even if I could. Don't worry, I'm not even thinking about running through that door."
Ma Bristol gave the thought serious consideration. "Don't it make you sort of mad then, having to wear them chains. If you ain't gonna run anyway, ain't no sense hobbling your feet. That leaves the hold reason for you being fixed the way you is to the fact I like to see you that way. Damn it, sugar, it curls me up inside with the nicest as I watch you." She sighed cheerfully. "I'm so damned lucky to have a gal like you."
"I'm a pretty toy, like a Barbie doll you can dress up," Ginevera admitted without concern. "Look, Ma, why don't you fix me to your favorite ring, where ever it is, after we've had supper. In fact, why not try me out on all of them? I can tell you how each one feels after I'm fixed and you can simply sit and enjoy."
"Crazy, ain't it, sugar?"
"Not unless we want to think it is. I don't think it's crazy at all."
Supper was a delightful normalcy. Ginevera knew herself still shaken and uncertain from the horror of the gang kidnap so swiftly followed by Ma Bristol's repossession. Her life had become a series of captivities, each different from the other. Evidently Ma was still a good hunter of the wild things in the woods around the farm.
While they ate, Ginevera became strangely sad. She realized it was because her thoughts of Ma Bristol led her to remembering the time Lady Alyth had fetched her from Ma and taken her back to Trinity Castle. And that made her long for Westley and Lady Alyth even while still seemingly happy to be with Ma Bristol. Perhaps the memory of the Roosters was already fading and with it the comparison between that horror and the relative safety of Ma Bristol's farm. But now ... well, now she remembered sharing a warm bed with Westley, the man she supposed was her husband. She knew she wanted to get back to them.
But her return to Trinity Castle had to be done without hurting this farm woman who had done so much for her. It was a formidable task from which she slimnk. Without the keys which Ma Bristol kept well hidden, it was an ambition impossible to achieve.
That evening, after supper, with her left wrist bound tightly to one ring and the right to another such that she stood against the wall with wide spread arms, she did her best to put it into words. "Ma, I shouldn't be telling you this, but somehow or the other I really should escape. It's not just you but there are others involved in my captivity. Look at the larger view. I suppose I ought to think one day of getting a husband and having children. Gosh, Ma, am I crazy to be playing this game with you tonight?"
"No, sugar, what you said is correct. But don't you see, it adds a bit of spice to what we do. You want to go and I don't want to loose you. So I make sure you don't ever get the chance to get away. I use every rope and lock I can to keep you from running away, while you use every bit of slack to try and work yourself free. Great idea!"
Ginevera was not a bit sure about this. She sighed unhappily but gave herself as a willing victim to the various bondage positions Ma contrived with the aid of her numerous rings. Neither of them had to worry about decision, there wasn't any decision. The chains never left her feet, so whatever was happening to her hands made no difference, she was still a prisoner.
And the hobbled girl actually found amusement in going from tie to tie and ring to ring while the metal around her ankles said clearly she had no chance to run. As her wrists were tied again and again, or her neck made captive to a ring, she stood in beautiful nakedness at Ma's disposal, and allowed her mind to drift back to the Roosters, to Trinity Castle, and to a man named Westley who she sincerely hoped was concerned about her disappearance. Hanging as a hopefully ray of sunshine was Lady Alyth, who might or might not be able to track her down again. By the time the captive was ready to be chained for the night, Ginevera realized she had had a pleasant evening.
It gave the captive girl and the woman who owned her a deep contentment. Ginevera was always controlled by some sort of chain from which there was no possibility of escape and was thus relieved from worrying about it. There were incidents, for instance the evening a farm wife came to call. Ginevera served coffee with as much of a flourish chained feet would allow. When, after the ritual of the cups. Ma Bristol thoughtfully handcuffed her to a ring above her head, the prisoner settled herself for entertainment.
"She's a pretty piece," said Hattie Simpson. "Where did you get her. Mar
"Picked her up in New York," replied Ma. "Guess I was lucky in finding this one. If you're aiming to do the same, you'll have a bit of a job for yourself. Although they are certainly there. Buy yourself a pair of handcuffs first."
"Huh? If I brought something like that home, my Hank would be on top of her all day long, and where would that leave me? You'll so damned lucky you ain't got no man. If I ever get to be a widow, I'll have one of these right quick. Do you have to train them? This one of yours acts like she's been gentled. She does everything you say."
Ma Bristol was enjoying a vast superiority in which Hattie and her ambition to have a slavegirl was left far behind. "That's another thing where I was lucky. Ginevera, here, was pretty well trained before I laid hands on here. All I had to do was teach her who's boss."
"How do you do that? Whip her ass?"
"Only once. If you do it hard enough the first time they remember it. Pain is a great teacher. I haven't whipped Ginevera in a long time, have I, honey?"
Ginevera agreed that, no, she had not been whipped for quite some time. Then she added her intention to behave so she would not be whipped again.
"Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, would it?" said Hattie doubtfully. "You sure she ain't stringing you a line?"
"What do you think? Look at her now, Hattie, the way I got her fixed so there's nothing she can do. That's the secret, just keep them helpless and they'll be the best little girls you ever saw."
"How about letting me whip her ass, just to see what she does?"
"No way. Forget it. Ginevera gets whipped when she deserves it and then it's me what does the whipping. What the hell you want to whip her for?"
"Just because." Hattie's voice was filled with visions. "She's a pretty girl, ain't she? And as far as I'm concerned, pretty girls are for men to shove it into and for wives to whip. Want to loan her to me for a month?"
"Hell, no. That Hank of yours would knock her up right fast. No man ain't never getting near Ginevera if I can help it."
Hattie sniffed and fixed the chained girl with an inviting eye. "You'd like to have a man again, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" She chuckled lewdly. "And, maybe me, too. If you come back home with me a while, I promise you won't ever be bored."
"Thank you, but I belong to Ma Bristol," the slavegirl said demurely.
Hattie Simpson made an impatient gesture. "I'm offering it to you either way, honey. You get screwed with my Hank or you can service me, or you can do both. I'll bet if you asked real nice. Ma Bristol would let you go home with me. I promise I'll keep you chained so you can't run away." As though struck by sudden inspiration, Hattie turned to an increasingly indignant hostess. "Look, Ma, you know that colt you was admiring? It's yours if you'll let me have this little sweetheart for just one month."
"No."
"Two weeks?" The female voice was filled with yearning. "I said no, and that's the end of it."
"You're a hard woman. Ma. Tell you what, you fix this little trick the way you do when you whip her little ass then let me have a go at her with a riding crop. I don't have no whip but I expect you do. Ma, be a sport."
Ma Bristol laughed from the security of knowledge and experience. "It wouldn't be no kindness, Hattie, neither to you or to the gal. If I was to let you whip her right now, you'd be back tomorrow for some more, and the next day, too. Whipping a gal is what they call addictive, sort of like a good home brew where you want just one more. Wait until you're a widow then take a trip to New York."
Ma Bristol and her slavegirl laughed about it afterwards. But there was a bit of sympathy for the farm wife who had led a life in which there had been far too little fun. "The poor woman is like all the rest," Ma Bristol said. "A gal like you sets them on fire, especially if she's naked. There ain't way Hattie would want to whip her old man or one of the farmer's wives around. But one sight of you drives her wild." She chuckled. "I ain't worrying about it none because I got you and they ain't. I guess there's reasons women look at gals that way. But I ain't bothering to figure them out. Which way would you like me to chain you next?"
It was the loveliest feeling to be tied and chained helplessly by Ma while the neighbors viewed her with unadulterated lust. On such occasions Ginevera was usually quite helpless and would have been completely at the mercy of the visitor had Ma not been around. It was pretty much like being staked out for a lion's dinner but with an expert marksman standing close by with a loaded gun. Another hilarious memory was of a male.
His name was Jimmy Gates. He had come to borrow a scythe and, was the habit in the backwoods, had walked in on them unannounced at a moment when Ma had handcuffed her captives slender wrists and collared her neck to the wall with barely a foot of chain. Jimmy Gates stared in pure disbelief.
"Who the hell told you to barge in here," Ma Bristol blustered, momentarily at a loss. "Get out of here, go peddle your papers."
Ma might have as well saved her breath for Jimmy was frozen in his tracks, staring at Ginevera. His fascinated gaze remained fixed up Ginevera's big breasts. "That there's a girl," he said as if making a discovery. "She ain't got no clothes on! Gosh, she's beautiful!"
Ma Bristol was about to enforce a harsh dismissal by the use of force but callow youth's astonishment touched some vein of mischief within her. "Ain't you ever seen a gal naked before, Jimmy Gates," she said good-humoredly. "What in tarnation you blushing for?"
Jimmy Gates did not blush alone. Beneath his stare, Ginevera was producing a fine range of pink all her own. She could not move from the wall without jerking her collared neck by its chain. But handcuffs are versatile and she joined linked wrists to enable captive hands to cover her breasts. Sensing the trend of her owner's mood, she returned Jimmy's stare and earnestly intoned, "Please rescue me! Please rescue me, kind Sir!"
Jimmy swallowed hard. Since the breasts were now covered, he transferred his focus to Ginevera's pubic curls. "Gosh!" he muttered.
As though flustered by male attention, the stripped maiden lowered one hand to cover her furry triangle while the other attempted to stay up at the breasts. The effect was comical. "Oh, Sir, you shouldn't be seeing me like this. I'm ... I'm naked!"
"You want I should get you loose from them there chains? Gee whiz. Miss, I'd need a whole raft of tools...."
"Oh, kind Sir, if only you would, I'd be so grateful."
"Look, you two, I'm still here, in case you've forgotten." Ma's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Ain't no way you're getting that gal loose, Jimmy Gates, so just you forget the idea." In simulated wrath, she thundered at the girl in chains, "If you don't want to be whipped raw, you young Jezebel, you'd best stop tempting this poor boy...."
"I ain't no poor boy, I'm a growed man." He tried to sound as forceful as he could. "Does Ma Bristol really whip your ass, Miss?"
"Well, only when I'm naughty."
Jimmy Gates was torn between lust and the desire to do what was expected from a gentlemen. And there was Ma Bristol, who might have the legal right to do this to the naked girl. Transferring his gaze from Ginevera to her owner, he pleaded, "Look, Ma, would you mind if I sort of copped a feel-down there where she's trying to cover up?"
"Jimmy Gates, you ought to be ashamed, wanting to grab hold of sugar's snatch!" Ma bristled with indignation. "Honeybunch, would you want this young fellow grabbing a handful of your you-know-what?"
"Oh, no! Oh, Mistress, please don't let him! That would be terribly naughty and I'd have to be whipped...." Ginevera trailed her exclamation.
Jimmy Gates was prepared to make concessions. "Then how about one of them nice tits?" he whined in heart broken yearning. "You want them boobs grabbed, sugar?"
"Oh, that would be naughty, too, so I'd have to be whipped again." The chained girl turned the full power of her reproach upon their visitor. "Oh, Mister Gates, you shouldn't never no way talk about things like that to a poor, innocent slavegirl like me." She extended handcuffed wrists. "But if you really want to, I'm sure it's okay for us to shake hands."
"Weren't thinking of shaking no hands," Jimmy Gates stood his ground. "Don't see as it would do no harm if you turned a bit so I could take a hold of your bottom." He turned to Ma imploringly. "She wouldn't get no baby out of me doing a thing like that."
"Oh, Sir, are you really sure? I mean, a girl can't be too careful."
Robbed of purpose, Jimmy Gates looked desperately from the slavegirl to her owner and tossed chivalry to the winds. "Look, Ma, how'd it be the next time you have to whip her because she's been naughty, you let me do the whipping. I should would admire the chance."
"Ain't no man touching my gal."
"Maybe I could watch?"
"Maybe you should go back home, Jimmy Gates, and stop giving my sugar bad ideas."
When Ma Bristol returned from seeing the infatuated youth off the premises, she freed her laughing slavegirl totally except for the chained feet from which Ginevera was destined to never be free. "You got to feel sorry for the poor kid," she said good humouredly. "He don't get much fun and, if he lives to be a hundred, he won't ever see nothing like you. I'll swear that when he got back in his car, he got an erection in his pants a foot long. When you think of guys like that, you got to be sorry for the poor bastards. Brew us another coffee, sugar."
As the days passed quietly there were other visitors which Ma dealt with easily with hindrance to the life she and her slavegirl enjoyed in their quite solitude. They were happy in their dreams and time in the sun. More and more Ginevera realized there could be no escape for, no matter what Ma Bristol did with her body and limbs, shackled always remained at least upon her feet. In resignation, Ginevera shared Ma Bristol's happiness.
The day came when chores took Ma to the barn and to leave her handcuffed slave with hands and arms held above her head by a length of rope. It was not unlike the pose she had assumed at Trinity for her biweekly whippings, and one of Ma Bristol's favorite forms. She often used it on Ginevera, but never for more than an hour or two, time in which Ginevera stood and dreamed and deliberately snub one ankle against its twin in an endless affirmation of captivity. She was thus engaged when she heard the motor of a car and caught a quick glimpse through the kitchen window as it passed by. This was a bad moment which happened often enough. Ginevera knew herself helpless and naked and alone, and wished the visitor would go to the barn instead of coming to the house to be redirected by a blushing maiden. Listening intently, she breathed a sigh of relief when there was no footstep upon the porch.
But it was not long before footsteps brought her owner to the door to reveal something so totally out of place in the rural scene as to cause Ginevera to stare in dismay at a feminine figure she never thought she would see.
It was the girl named Prune.
The two girl viewed each other, Ginevera in a stare of shock, but Prune in satisfaction. "You don't need to call for help," she said, "I crept upon on that old bitty and locked her in the barn. You're already packaged for delivery-this is my lucky day."
Ginevera gulped down her fear. The handcuffs were tight upon her wrists and were, moreover, held above her head to deliver her nudity to a pair of gloating eyes. There seemed nothing worthwhile to say except a plaintive query, "What have you come her for?"
"I want you."
"You can't have me. And, anyway, I'm chained."
"Figured you would be. Brought myself a key. All I got to do is get them hands down and put them behind your back. Gosh, I never expected it would be this easy."
Ginevera fought, knowing she could never win but obeying instinct which screamed at the thought of returning to the Rooster's lair. She waited until the steel band had been unlocked from one wrists, then launched herself upon her kidnapper.
When Prune reeled back from the onslaught, Ginevera tried to follow up but was instantly tripped by the chain between her feet. A moment later she was face down on the floor with a triumphant slut upon her back, forcing arms behind her and locking home the steel cuff. With good will, Prune dragged the once captive to stand erect in defeat.
"You never had no chance," Prune laughed. "And you ain't never gonna get a chance, honeybunch. What I got to do now is get you someplace where I can hang you up proper and finished the job I was doing when that old witch busted in on us and screwed things up." Her voice became almost a croon. "Didn't that strap have the loveliest sound up between your legs?"
There was no conversation on the journey to the car. Ginevera cried for help and fought as best she could until Prune gathered a handful of her hair to compel her towards a hated slavery. It was while Prune awkwardly used one hand to open the trunk that there came a resounding crash and a bellow of rage as Ma Bristol emerged from splintered wood to charge the startled girl. Quickly she pounced upon the girl too shocked to turn and run. It was over quickly as Prune was carried in triumph to the kitchen.
Ginevera followed with hobbled and cautious steps.
Tough and wiry as she might have been. Prune's struggles were ineffectual. As the girl from New York mouthed a steady stream of obscenities, Ma cuffed her into obedience, crossed her wrists, tied them tight, then used the same rope as had just moments before had held Ginevera upright to hoist the angry young woman to where her reaching toes and four inch heels fought vainly for the floor. Ma stood back in righteous wrath.
"I'll bet your guys will want to know what happen to you, you city bitch," she said. "But first thing I got to do is strip you down. Kick all you like, gal, it ain't gonna do you no good."
by this time Ginevera had reached the place of punishment to watch in fascination as Prune's odd clothing was tore from her torso until she the young girl hung in kicking and cursing nakedness. Frantic with fear, the Rooster's girl shouted, "Please don't hurt me! I ain't like some girl what likes pain. I couldn't bear no whippin', I'd go nuts."
"If you play, you pay." Ma Bristol's voice was curt. "If you didn't want to risk getting yourself whipped, you should have stayed back where you come from." She turned to her radiant but still helpless slave to say, "You want to blister her pleat, sugar?"
Ginevera shook her head. "I'd be no good at it, Ma, please don't make me."
"Then turn around. You may as well have your hands. And we'll be wanting coffee after a while. This scrawny bitch can hang all day without hurting."
Ginevera backed up and was thrilled to feel motions of freedom as Ma fumbled with the key. "I could lock these on your ankles, bitch," she said to the trembling female in suspension. "But I want to see you kick them legs of yours. But, come to think of it, I got to tie them well apart, ain't I? That's the way you had Ginevera back when I made your acquaintance. I ain't forgetting that."
There was a squeal of anguish as the thought of what Ma was promising hit Prune. "Oh, god, don't you whip me there!"
Ma simply took one leg, held it tight as she bound the ankle tight with a loop of rope. Then it was spread wide and tied taut to one of the convenient rings. The other legs proved even easier, leaving Prune in the posture of a ballet dancer's splits with all her weight still hanging from tied wrists. Ma gazed at the female facility thus exposed without approval. "Ain't got yourself much of a crop of hair," she said. "Maybe by the time I'm through with you, won't be no hair left at all. Why don't you stop your cussing and say something sensible?"
"I want to go home."
"I'll just bet you do. Anything else you want to tell us before you get the strap-it was a strap you was using on my gal, wasn't it?"
With Ma safely out of ear-shot, Prune lost no time. "You got your hands now so hurry up and get me loose. I'll bat that old bitch over the head when she comes through the door and the two of us can get safely away. Come on, hurry!"
"Don't be silly. My feet are chained and I'm not going anyway. I can't win a fight with you so you'd haul me back to those horrible Roosters and that filthy bed in that filthy room. I'd have to be crazy!"
The strap with which Ma Bristol was armed upon her return was every bit as formidable as the one Prune had used on Ginevera long ago. A wicked slice of leather, supple and limber, and obviously of a weight to cause the eyes of the stretched and suspended female to distend in anguish. "How did you do this," Ma asked innocently. "Up inside from knee to the place where you pee? And then work on that for a while before you start down the other side? Best I get started before you run out of cuss words."
Prune screamed obscenities at the first blow which left its vicious imprint on the inside on one tight just above the knee. Then the lash imprinted the softer flesh just next to the first impact. Ma Bristol certainly knew how to use the strap. Prune's pleadings became frantic, almost mindless in her need to stop this pain before it reached her private parts. She did seem to have a healthy respect for the amount of pain she thought the strap would cause there. Or perhaps she knew from painful experience.
With the first strike squarely against spread open pussy, Prune screamed. It wasn't a word, but a primitive sound that echoed from the walls and told very well of the pain the leather had evoked within the helpless girl. As more strokes landed upon the well used sexual facility, Prune's screams oddly lessened, almost turning into gasps and whimperings. Perhaps the area was becoming numb from repeated blows of the heavy leather.
When the strap no longer lingered at that target and began its slow descent down the other leg, Prune resorted to steady moans of pure pain. When the strap had completed the painful path, Ma laid aside the weapon of vengeance and freed the ankles. Prune's legs hung motionless as she whimpered in her bondage.
"You can put the coffee pot on now, sugar." Then she turned to the moaning girl, "That's just the beginning, bitch. You still got a nice round ass and a good bare back I'll get worked over in time for supper. Tits ain't much but maybe I can whip them too. Need a small whip, the kind that sort of cuts a thin line 'cross your skin. Maybe by supper you'll remember never to touch my gal again."
From the first, Ginevera remembered only the horror of her own being thus fastened with a Rooster dragging hard on each leg to split her wide open for Prune's strap. But, little by little she found herself melting in sympathy over a punishment which awoke all to vividly her own memories of pain. She said nothing, knowing that Ma would sense her mood but would not alter her punishing of this girl. As she brewed the coffee at the end of Prune's first lashing, she knew she dared not intervene.
As Ma, breathing heavily, laid her strap aside, she eyed approvingly the sweat-stained nudity hanging limply from it's wrists, eyes closed and moaning softly as it swung from side to side. Her eyes locked upon a pair of stretched feminine breasts and she rubbed the helpless nipples with fingers. "How'd it be, sugar," she asked Ginevera, "if I was to mark these up a bit? We got all afternoon."
"Please don't. I remember when somebody wanted to whip mine. It's the most terrible feeling."
"Okay. You got a kind heart, sugar. I'll leave them be if that's the way you wants it. But her rump and back are going to get it good after we let her hang a while. Come on, sweetheart, you can pour the coffee."
It was a bizarre taboo: the comfortable figure of Ma Bristol drawn up to the table with her coffee, a naked girl who's chained feet made music as she went to and from the stove, and overshadowing the entire scene was the suspended nudity of a punished girl who's thighs were scarlet and purple and who's sex was swollen.
The hung up nakedness still moaned in the aftermath of punishment until Prune asked pathetically, "Ain't you gonna give me a cup of coffee?"
Ginevera looked in Ma's direction for instructions. "Ah, go ahead," said Ma contentedly, "you old softy. You want to." The slavegirl held the steaming cup to grateful lips. For Ma Bristol everything was well in hand.
The middle aged woman and her chained possession sipped coffee and chatted cheerfully while Ma Bristol made no effort to look elsewhere than at her handiwork which she obviously found deeply satisfying. Ginevera was smart enough to keep silent. If she nagged Ma in the wrong direction, she could easily find herself suspended along side Prune. She sat and glowed in the comfort of Ma Bristol's approval and possession. A slavegirl much loved is a privileged female, and that was something Ginevera was determined never to forget. Since she was more and more giving up the idea of escape, she more and more choose the path of obedience. The absence of whip marks upon her skin perhaps proved her choice the right one. Looking from time to time at the well-whipped Prune, she could not but help to shutter.
Ma Bristol had been thinking, and after a while revealed inspiration. "Ain't no way I'm going to turn this gal loose," she announced. "But I ain't keeping her around here to mess things up between you and me, sugar. What I've decided is to make a gift of her to Hattie. And that young Jimmy Gates." She chuckled at a vision in her mind. "Young Jimmy can't take this home, his mother would have kittens. But there's nothing to stop him from going over to Hattie's place and whipping her ass whenever he wants to. Although I'm sure he's more interested in shoving his rod inside than he is in making her squeal. But that ain't what Hattie is interested in. I'll bet in less than a week there ain't a bit of the bitch what isn't marked with red or purple streaks. What you think of that idea, sugar."
Ginevera wanted to laugh. But all humor aside, she saw virtue in Ma's suggestion. It would make Jimmy Gates very happy. It would fulfill Hattie's yearnings, and no doubt Hattie's husband would be a beneficiary. She had never met Mister Simpson but Ginevera was sure he would find the charms of even Prune very attractive compared to those of his wife and whatever else could see seen in this rustic backwoods. Prune, herself, no longer mattered. Prune had entered slavery and Ginevera knew all too well what slavery entailed. Prune had said goodbye to the world of the free and her former life. From now on she would know only the rope and whip and obedience. All was well.
Ma Bristol was a woman of action, and with it went decision. Having sealed Prune's fate, she went to the phone and thirty minutes later a flushed but immensely grateful Hattie Simpson was staring almost in awe at a naked girl hanging by her wrists and with a bottom and back as yet unmarked by whip or crop. "Ma, you're a true friend," she stammered earnestly. "What you're giving me now is as good I as could ever hope to get in this life. She's not as good as yours, of course, but I ain't complaining. Gosh, I wish I'd been here to see what you'd done between her thighs."
"Still plenty left, Hattie, and it's all yours."
Prune could see her fate going from bad to worse. She exclaimed, "You needn't think I'm kissing your ass, you old hag. Get back where you came from!"
With a nod of approval from Ma Bristol, Hattie selected a riding crop. Without preamble, she took a stance to deliver a truly awful cut squarely across the bottom of the young lady from New York. Prune emitted a squeal of anguish which trailed off into assurances of kissing Hattie's ass anytime. Prune even suggested that if they would let her down right now and free her hands ... !
The offer was ignored. Hattie thoughtfully cut away at the convenient girl skin so kindly provided by a good neighbor she would be forever in debt to. The recipient of her attentions screamed and kicked protesting feet in all directions. Ginevera had vowed not to watch but found herself fascinated by the sight of something she knew all too well.
For a woman who had never owned a slave, Hattie Simpson was amazingly proficient. She cropped and whipped Prune from her neck on down to her knees, applying either instrument with equal cunning. At the end of it she was sweating hard while Prune hung limp and lifeless.
It was while the assembly was discussing the method of binding the sad and suffering maiden from New York, that a polite knock was heard upon the door. None had heard the entry of a car, or the footsteps of its owner, and when they gazed in startled shock at the figure in the doorway, Ginevera wished her feet where free to enable her to greet a man too astonished to say a word.
It was Westley Wallace.
CHAPTER FOUR - Avon
I'll admit when I thought of Grandma I felt guilty. I had only served about a month of my six month sentence at Trinity when I suddenly discovered myself on what seemed then a holiday to New York where I would be wined and dined and no doubt screwed by Lady Alyth's one and only nephew, Westley Wallace. I have to frankly admit that, fully dressed, without handcuffs, but with an uncertain future in which there lay a man, I bored the plane at Heathrow in a state of excitement. I wish I'd known then what I know now.
I could imagine the impact on one of the Trinity girls had she suddenly found herself as privileged as I. Some had been at Trinity several years whereas I had been only a month. At any rate, for me it was like being born all over again, and everything I did and saw was wonderful. An amusing feature of this new freedom was doing things with two hands instead of one. When the flight attendant offered me something, I reached out both my arms automatically, handcuffs had been habit forming.
There is something boyish about Westley. For one thing he's still in his twenties, and, considering his always had everything he wanted in life, he's turned out remarkably stable. Except that he never takes anything seriously. This includes girls. He takes us to his bed, bound or free, with the same carefree enjoyment in which he ate his meals. Westley was far stronger than he looked and could subdue me easily. But whatever Westley was or was not, I wanted him and I wanted New York.
He was at the airport and couldn't have been sweeter had we been in love. The hotel was one of the best, and the suite larger than most homes. I found myself suddenly shy and wondering what I had gotten myself into. There was a bar at which Westley poured drinks for us both. But before he gave me mine he took something from his pocket I had hoped wasn't there. With his delightful, boyish grin he dangled the metal cuffs and inquired, "Do you mind?"
I minded but did not say so. I was walking between two different worlds and this young man with his handcuffs was my only refuge in a foreign world. My only protest was a weak, "Do you really have to?"
"Of course I have to, sweetheart. Aunt Alyth insisted that I shouldn't let you forget. She also told me you had to be whipped. But we won't do that this evening unless you want it."
I was back in wonderland as I shrugged and held out my hands for the steel bracelets which were the normal dress for girls at Trinity. When the circles were firmly locked upon my wrists, Westley handed me my drink which I now had no choice to take but with two hands.
"I expect you'd like to know all about it," he said with a trace of urgency. "Look, I'll sit down and you can kneel at my feet while I bring you up to date. Do you mind?"
Kneeling, I felt ridiculous. It was the clothes that spoiled it. Girls who kneel should wear nothing. But I was rather pleased with the wardrobe Lady Alyth had been so generous with so I knelt down and held my glass in cupped hands in what I hoped was the approved humility. I caught the glint in Westley's eye and we both laughed. That told me I was on the right track and everything was alright.
I drank my cocktail far too rapidly. "I forget what you know," Westley said. "Anyway, there was a girl named Ginevera. You did meet her, I know you did. Anyway, she was my wife. We came her for the honeymoon. We'd scarcely got settled when she disappeared in a way to leave the police and every one else totally baffled. Aunt Alyth was furious and I felt a bit of a fool because I didn't have a single clue. But I had to do something so I occupied my time to become a detective." Westley's shrug said volumes. "I soon discovered the best approach to anything was a lot of money. With Auntie helping, that was easy. I picked up pieces here and there, and in the end they led me to the damndest old shanty of a farm in the damndest bit of backwoods a man could ever see. When I found my wife she was stark naked, her ankles were chained so she couldn't run away, and she was drinking coffee with a middle aged lady, all comfortable, cozy and unconcerned. Before my arrival they'd been watching something Aunt Alyth would have dearly loved. There was a naked girl hanging by her wrists and another middle aged lady busily whipping her with a riding crop.
The suspended girl was obviously glad to see me but the one with the riding crop was not. She gazed at me from the other side of the naked girl to say, "I don't know what you're selling, mister, but whatever it is, we don't want it. Fuck off!"
Westley chuckled and leaned forward to stroke my hair as though I was a kitten. "It was too absurd for words," he continued. "My wife and I both laughed, we couldn't help it as she hobbled to where I stood to embrace me. I was then invited to sit down and have a cup of coffee and was introduced to one lady who Ginevera called Ma and a Hattie Simpson, who's work with the crop I had interrupted. She was now flushed and said she was simply teaching Prune a lesson. And this girl called Prune took the opportunity to burst out in what seemed a single word, 'Pleased-to-meet-ya-mister-get-me-the-hell-out-of-this.' We all then sat down to sip coffee to the turn of my wife's ankle chain and I wondered what the hell I'd walked into.
Westley paused, then looked down at me as though figuring I wasn't believing a word. But he continued on as if wanting to get it off his chest. "I know what you're thinking, Avon. I should simply have picked up Ginevera and carried her out to the car. That would have been the end of it. But coffee to the Americans is the same, more or less, as Tea is to us. I found myself sipping away with three females, one of them my wife, while the girl hanging to one side seemed to have given up hope. I was getting ready to make an announcement when that Hattie woman announced her immediate departure and apologized for intruding upon a family visit. At that point she and the one called Ma allowed the hanging girl to get her feet back on the ground. But they instantly retied her hands from over her head to behind her back, adding ropes around her elbows for good measure. I don't think the girl could have fought, but the ropes would have prevented any useful struggle. You've been tied with your elbows touching behind your back, I assume. Well, a noose was put around her neck and Hattie said goodbye to all. Then she marched the naked girl out to the car where she loaded the unprotesting girl into the trunk. It was slammed down and the car disappeared quickly. I turned to sit down again and listen to the damndest story a man could hear."
Westley shook his head in disgust. "Seems as if Ginevera had been Ma's prisoner more than once, and for some crazy reason I can't explain, the two of them had come to some sort of understanding. There was even a strange degree of affection in which the older woman was now emotionally dependent upon my wife. My wife looked at me to say she couldn't possibly leave Ma stranded without a girl to chain and punish so would I please arrange for one of the Trinity girls to take her place? And, little by little, my wife sold me on the idea that it would only take a little while to make the exchange and then everybody would be happy with a clear conscious."
Westley looked down at me tenderly, his voice almost apologetic. "I suppose by now you know why you're here...."
So that was why I was in New York! I looked down at my hands with handcuffs. My first thought was to protest, even to try and run. But the second thought was oddly one of excitement. "Why me?" I asked innocently.
"Because you're intelligent and because of the length of your sentence you wouldn't be Ma Bristol's slavegirl forever."
"But suppose I don't want to be a slavegirl?"
"You're a slavegirl already, sweetheart. You can't possibly escape unless you throw a skid under that beautiful scheme your grandmother hatched up with Lady Alyth. You're hooked."
He was right, of course, I knew I was hooked. Grandma imposed a greater restraint upon me than any chain could. I did some rapid thinking which ended with, "Okay, Master, when do we leave for the farm."
I knew Westley liked the "Master" bit and his assurance was earnest, "You don't have to worry about-your sentence, Avon. At the end of six months, Ginevera and I will come and take you home. If you think by then Ma really deserves another girl, we'll get her one. If she hadn't been so sold on the idea of really beautiful girls, she could have kept that poor creature they called Prune, the one Kattie Simpson walked away with." He patted my cheek in a brotherly sort of way. "You're taking this remarkably well, Avon. I'm going to take you out to dine."
"Handcuffed?"
For answer he produced the key, put the handcuffs back in his pocket, and told me to go and make myself beautiful in the finest dress I had. I wasted no time.
One of the nice things about Westley Wallace is that money doesn't matter. Trinity Castle kept a constant stream of funds flowing his direction. So when he takes a girl to wine and dine, she knows she's had the best. By the time we came back to the hotel room I would have been ready to go anywhere he asked. But first we reverted to what, for me, was simply normal.
"Take off your clothes, sweetheart. A girl in clothes isn't really a girl at all."
I knew I'd obey but it wasn't all that easy. I'd worn these garments just long enough to make me want to wear them longer. Men just don't understand that girls enjoy their clothes. In less than a minute I was naked and kneeling at my master's feet. The next thing was the handcuffs but I knew I'd get them anyway so I meekly offered my wrists. With everything perfectly normal, Westley suggested brandy. Brandy helps anything.
I had to pour. I did so happily, still glowing from the fine dinner and wine, plus the warmth that Westley Wallace projected onto me. Girls adore being loved and I really felt this man cared for me. Happily I knelt at this feet. We sipped cautiously, neither of us wishing to get looped.
Conversation with Westley is a gift every girl should share. He has that gift of making every mundane thing seem hilarious. We had given the more obvious topics a good going over before the voice of Trinity spoke through Westley's lips. "About this whipping, Avon, my pet, would you like to get it over and done with?"
Tossing caution to the winds and replacing it with mischief, probably from too much wine and brandy, I said, "You can't possibly whip me, Westley, we're in a hotel suite in New York and what on earth would you tie me to?"
"I'll think of something."
"For instance?" I was pushing my luck.
"Couldn't you just stand up or bend over or something?"
"No girl could. Oh, Westley, be merciful."
His eye roamed the room. "How about that ottoman thing? I'd have to tie your knees instead of your ankles, but it should work with your wrists tied to the other two legs. Make a nice change."
I pouted my prettiest pout. "I think it's simply horrible. I'd feel like a turtle without a shell. And it would probably hurt a lot worse than being tied the proper way." I grinned at him. "Why don't you call the desk and see if they can bring up some sort of device. I can't possibly be the only girl who gets her bottom caned in a hotel suite."
"Very funny." Westley was beginning to enjoy me. "How many strokes does a girl get in the ritual affair at Trinity?"
"Fifteen," I lied.
"You know that's not true. Try again."
I worked my pout overtime. "Well, maybe twenty."
"That's better, Avon. In your case, right now, it is twenty-one and will continue an upward trend so long as you feel so foxy. Understand?"
Without regard for consequences, I drank more brandy and continued by reckless course. "Yes, Master! I am now to receive twenty-one strokes on my bare bottom. Could we make it for some time next week?"
"We won't be here next week. And if you continue like this, the figure advances to twenty-five."
Brandy can help a girl only just so far. The promise of twenty-five across my bare bottom brought be back some. I continued to pout but said with enthusiasm, "I couldn't bear twenty-five, Master. If I was caned here and now could you be satisfied with the original twenty?"
"Twenty-one."
"Tied down across that ottoman thing?"
"Can you think of a better way?"
"I could picture a girl with tied hands facing a door and the rope lifting up her arms and tied on the other side somewhere. Would you, Master?"
"What I should do is wait until you're sober and then give you a good thrashing to cement this relationship. I doubt it hurts all that much when your pickled."
"Oh, but it does, Master. It hurts terribly."
I became aware that Westley was never short of rope. He produced a coil and led me to the bedroom where he tied one end to the links of my handcuffs and threw the rest over the door. I stood against that damned door, my breasts tighter and tighter against its cold wood while Westley fiddled out of sight and my hands rose higher until I was on tip toes. It was not the way I would have chosen to end a nice evening.
"Trust a woman, a woman always knows." Westley running his fingertips up and down my spine and over the curves of my bottom.
I looked back over my shoulder in what I hoped was deep reproach for what I was about to receive. I don't suppose another stroke one way or the other makes much difference really but I somehow didn't want that extra one. Breathlessly, I awaited and wondered if Westley's strokes would be worse than those of Lady Alyth.
Nothing happened. After a while Westley let my hands down and untied the rope to leave me only handcuffed. He ordered, "Make us another drink, sweetheart. You've had your whipping and it has been duly noted. Get with it."
"But I haven't been whipped at all."
"That's right, and you're not going to be. But I'll enter it in the book because no one but you and me is ever going to know. Come on, we have other things to talk about."
I adored him utterly. I suppose this just proves a girl can be mastered by the whip. But I knew in my girlish heart I was more than half way to being in love with Westley Wallace. When it came bed time, my handcuffs were changed from front to back because Westley said it was more fun that way and a girl wiggled around like a fish out of water. I wouldn't have minded if he made me lay on sharp spikes.
In case you're interested, I learned a lot of tricks I hadn't known.
It was a long overnight drive to where we had to go. Over breakfast we discussed my disposal. I had little trouble choosing between the wearing of clothes with handcuffs as opposed to being hogtied and naked in the trunk. Westley was an absolute darling, and if any girl has to be kidnapped and have a master, I recommend him highly. We giggled a lot on the journey, especially when my handcuffs were taken off and returned very time we stopped for a cup of coffee. We only took a chance one in a tumbled down place and the lovely steel upon my wrists drove our waitress into a frenzy of conjecture that Westley was a plainclothes policeman taking me to prison. And when, in a thrilled whisper, she inquired my crime, I simply said I'd murdered my husband and thereby earned her respect. You just can't tell about people.
The place in which we spent our second night was a moderately expensive motel on the outskirts of some city or another. But what was most evident when I saw the room was a post in the middle and some rafters above. I don't know if Westley knew this motel or not but he couldn't have chosen a better place for binding a girl. It was a homey room, in which I could be fastened most anyway. I pretended not to notice the post or beams but Westley inspected them with obvious glee. I knew ideas about my body were going through his mind. Evidently our journey had made my master horny.
I was well passed the point of argument and so offered Westley my wrists for him to remove the cuffs. I stripped naked and arranged myself with face against the post without being told to. It was wonderful, really, the way we didn't have to speak. He used the handcuffs to fix my hands on the other side of the post, then some of his rope to cinch my tummy tight against the wood with many strands of rope. Every time he tugged I knew my bottom protruded one more inch. I wished for a cocktail because I was pretty sure what was coming next.
I got precisely twenty-one, delivered without haste with an instrument that was by no means harsh. The whipping was not quite up to Trinity standard but Westley and I both understood the way it would salve his conscious should the subject ever arise. For my part, I did not scream but held tight to the wooden post until the pain-giving was over. Then I said a rather sincere "Thank you, Master," to Westley.
For supper we sought a small restaurant where I tried to sit down as if it did not hurt. I know Westley was waiting of me to wince but I managed a minor victory and smiled at him. As we ate, I felt myself thinking of the night before and what I would receive again tonight. Westley was damned good and I found myself envying Ginevera. Everything was crazy and I had to wonder if I wasn't the craziest of the bunch.
It was wonderful to be owned by Westley, he was so much fun and made me laugh even when I was hurting. I'm sure he knew what I was thinking, and when at long last we drove into the run-down farm yard, he reached over to gently pat one of my chained hands as though to tell me everything was going to be all right. For myself, I was in a dither of doubt and wishing I was safely back at Trinity.
Everything was as Westley said, even to the cups on the table and the pot simmering on the stove. There was the middle-aged woman. There, also, was the naked girl who wore chains but who came rattling across the floor to be embraced and kissed by Westley in what seemed to me to be a lukewarm sentiment on both sides. I remembered I asked Westley about his wedding but he had brushed the subject aside. But that was their affair. I stood there, fully clothed but demurely handcuffed.
Ma Bristol gave me a long, hard look before her features softened some. It dawned on me that she was comparing my curves against those of Ginevera! And I'll admit, Ginevera was first class all the way. But I could hold my own with most any girl and finally Ma Bristol smiled, apparently satisfied that she was not getting the dirty end of the stick.
We sorted ourselves out and coffee put the finishing touch on our acquaintance. I couldn't help but notice the way the older woman and the chained girl touched each other and exchanged glances. For them there was a sadness, and I remembered the lines, "Parting is such sweet sorrow." As usual, everything was nuts!
"I ain't been sure about this whole idea," Ma Bristol finally admitted. "I got me a gal what suits me fine. And I said there wasn't no way I'd ever part with her. But, Mr. Wallace, you done me proud. Where the hell do you get them?"
"I have a relative who keeps a number of them on hand," Westley said modestly. "You'll find Avon as well trained as she is beautiful."
"How 'bout she gets them clothes off? Let's have a look."
I had to be embarrassed. This was the strangest strip I've ever had to do. Ginevera would be a hard act to follow. But if this farm woman rejected me, I hadn't lost a thing. As thought we rehearsed the act, Westley freed my hands and I began the business of baring my body.
When I was totally nude, I turned to Westley with outstretched hands to get my wrists locked tight again. I could tell this simply act of submission pleased our hostess. I was getting vibes from her in increasing waves of approval, which I now intensified by striking a pose in the center of the kitchen floor to slowly turn with my hands above my head and then, as though affirming their helplessness, to place them at the back of my neck. I offered Ma Bristol everything I had.
After a while I stood still and returned my hands to normal. This jerked my new owner out of what appeared a trance, and turned to a grinning Westley Wallace to proclaim, "I wouldn't have never believed it. And I ain't never going to let this one go." She paused to stare me in the eye. "This deal we're making okay with you?"
It seemed silly to just say yes, so I held up my handcuffed wrists and said with a sweet innocence, "I don't have anything to say about it. I'm a slave and, if you're willing to give up Ginevera and keep me instead, I'm sure Mr. Wallace will give you a bill of sale."
My sarcasm went unrecognized. But parts of me were prodded by hard fingers to make sure I was real. Then a silence fell upon the group for a few minutes, as if no one was quite sure what came next. Finally Ma Bristol produced keys and unlocked the padlocks on Ginevera's ankles. The hobble had never been leg irons or shackles, but simply a length of chain passed around and locked upon each ankle. Rising from her feet, Ma Bristol kissed the girl who had worn her chain so long. Then, with practical good sense, suggested, "You want to wear Avon's clothes, sugar? She ain't gonna need them no more."
I think Ma Bristol was beginning to think of the occasion with some joy. Holding the chain and the two padlocks, she sought my eyes. "You know if I lock this chain on those ankles of yours, it will be for keeps?"
"Yes, I know."
I expect she was being fair and offering me a way out because she added, "There ain't no way you'll ever get loose. You sure you can take it?"
I repeated my act with the handcuffs and a bland assurance, "I have to take it. I told you, I'm a slave."
I wondered if Ma Bristol realized how easily the three of us could have walked out of that house and out of her life. And if she realized the depth of Ginevera's affection. Suddenly she knelt and all three of us watched her chain possess my bare ankles and the padlocks make their authoritative snap to tell me I had passed from one owner to another. Ginevera donned my clothes without concern over being watched. Then there was a good deal of kissing and hugging. But finally I stood alone in the farmhouse kitchen while my new owner accompanied them to the car and waved them out of her life. For me, it was a double poignant moment and I could swear I felt the heat of Ginevera's flesh still in her chain. I was thankful to wipe away a tear before Ma Bristol came back.
I felt more helpless then I really was. I could walk slowly and use my joined hands. But I was very aware of how completely helpless I was. There was simply nothing I could do to get my hands or feet free. I envied Ginevera her possession of a male. My two nights in bed with him had been habit forming, and what he did to me would leave a vacuum in my loins for the next five months. I wondered if Ma Bristol knew I would be taken from her at them time. But it was a subject I had best keep quiet about. When her bulk darkened the door and she stood there looking at me as though she couldn't believe her luck, I blurted out, like a silly kid, "I'll be very obedient, Ma. Please tell me the things I have to do."
She didn't say a word but took me in her arms and held the two of us cheek to cheek as she whispered, "You don't have to do nothing, sugar, except help with the coffee and dishes. What I want is just to see you around. You got whipped a lot back where you come from?"
"Yes, quite often."
"And tied and chained and locked away?"
"Yes, all of that, too. Mr. Wallace told you I was well trained."
"Well, sugar, I ain't gonna make no promises. I may do all them things or just keep you around as a sort of pet. Most of the time I'll just keep your feet chained the way I did Ginevera. Worked fine for her, will for you, too."
I kicked my foot to test. It was quickly snubbed to tell me how simple and effective it was to deter escape. I couldn't think of anything else to say so I went back to being a little girl again with a simple, "Thank you." I could feel Ma growing more and more pleased and confident. Evidently I met her standards. And since I was effectively chained, she must have felt all was well with her world.
"They was always looking for Ginevera, and she was always thinking about escape. It ain't gonna be that way with you, is it, sugar? What I mean is, there ain't no one coming to tell me I got to give you up because you belong to them, is there?"
"No, I belong to you completely."
It must have been at least an hour since we had coffee but I was now told we'd have it again while we talked. And it was me who would do the honors. The handcuffs wouldn't bother me but I wasn't sure about chained feet so I took dainty little steps back and forth, which made us both laugh and eased the tension. I got to sit down just the same as Ma and we passed sugar and cream back and forth until she asked, "How'd that bunch back in England get a hold of you in the first place?" I told her the story, couldn't see any reason for holding it back. But I refrained from mentioning my six month sentence. Once more my guilt returned as I wondered if Grandma would consider my present condition as punishment. When I told Ma about this, she had a ready answer, "You ain't meaning I got to whip you every day, sugar?"
"Not really. Not unless you want to. Trinity Castle had a dungeon and cells and things like that. If you feel an obligation, I'm sure you can think of something." We were giggling like old friends. I felt safe with this woman who probably saw me as a gift from another world. 'Then hold about do something to you every day? Like tying you to a tree out in the yard? Or on the back of a horse? Bet you've noticed all these rings I've got around the walls." She chuckled at memories. "I tied poor Ginevera to them every which way. Them rings is good. And I can tie a girl to them in more positions than you could ever dream. Would your grandma figure that was rough enough?"
"I'm sure she would. But don't feel you have to."
"Shit, honey, I'll be telling you, it ain't your grandma I'm doing it for, it's for me! The two of us is gonna have the grandest time. Sugar, the way I got you fixed right now, you're so damned beautiful!"
So far, so good. I thought of Trinity but there was no way to compare that place with Ma Bristol's farm. Her eyes followed my chained wrists lovingly.
"What we'll do now. sugar, is give you the grand tour. There isn't much to see but you might as well see what there is. Come on now, I'll hold your arm so you won't trip."
On our cautious journey to the barn I realized this was a whole new deal. I wasn't so much a prisoner but rather a sort of model, a manikin on which she could try out her bondage inventions, a subject to be posed and fastened. But I sadly realized the chains upon me now were also necessary to insure I did not run away from an obsession I did not share.
The barn was in even worse shape than the house, and there were several sheds and a corral. All were plentifully equipped with iron rings stoutly fastened to the ancient wood. To a number of these I was attached as Ma invented excused for leaving me alone. But she was never gone more than a few minutes so all I got to do was take a good look at her rings. And there was one plain, ordinary metal snap which Ma used on my handcuffs as she might a tethered horse. It was such an ordinary looking thing I was tempted to see if I could get free. And I spent ten busy minutes discovering I could not. While it didn't matter much now, I caught a glimpse of how it could if the barn was on fire or Ma had a heart attack. If she left me there a month, I could not have gotten away.
It was a pretty country, Ma's bit of land. There was a slope looking down into her pasture which contained several grazing horses. And there was a stretch of woodland in which I was told I would soon be tied to a tree. On the way back she was struck by inspiration. 'Tell you what," she said, "let's go visit Hattie Simpson. I'd like to check up on that poor gal I give her as a gift. I was real mean to that there gal and I'm wondering if Hattie knows where to draw the line when she whips her ass. I'm willing to be money it's the first thing she done when she got her home. Want to come for the ride?"
I was grateful for the ride but not a bit sure about being naked in the car. Ma laughed my apprehension aside. "No one around here cares a damn about stuff like that. There's old Hawkins who lives way over west. He strips his daughters down naked every Thursday and whips their bare hides until they's a pretty pink. And if any neighbor comes along while he's doing it, they're welcome to stay and watch, or maybe give the poor critters a few licks themselves. Every so often he gets his wife in on the act. And I'm telling you, sugar, they're a real happy family."
Before we got into the cat Ma felt the urge for change. She unlocked the cuffs and from the trunk selected a length of quite thin cord. 'Turn around and cross your wrists behind your back, love," she ordered as if this were something we did all the time. But I grinned and did as I was told, standing passive while the cord bit and looped and tugged until Ma's final knot proclaimed a bond from which I would never get free. I was then picked up and dumped in the front seat by a woman who's strength was almost frightening.
I was now twice as helpless as before but it didn't matter much because it was nothing new. Trinity had made certain I sampled steel and cord and strap many times. So I settled down and made myself as comfortable as a tied girl can be. And I listened politely while Ma did the talking. When we got to the Simpson place, I was marched to a house a little bit more modern than the one we had left. Ma assured me earnestly that while Hattie would certainly wish to use a riding crop on me, there was no way this would be allowed. Inwardly I chuckled because it seemed from the way these people talked and acted a girl's main purpose in life was to endure a series of punishments. All painful enough to keep her skin forever marked.
I sighed and wondered where Westley and Ginevera were now.
It's wonderful the way these people walk in on each other. I was primed to meet Hattie Simpson, but I wasn't prepared for her husband. Mister Simpson was repairing a harness on the kitchen table and, when Ma marched me in, I could tell he thought he had died and gone to heaven. We were instantly regaled with more coffee and when I said thank you, I'd had enough, I was told curtly that in this house, no one ever refused coffee. I'd drink it whether I wanted it or not. Since I had no hands I was assured from three directions of an earnest wish to lift the coffee cup to my lips. My skin was crawling under Mister Simpson's gaze.
I was told that having a naked girl around the place was a new thing and that I should therefore go and stand in the middle of the room where they could all enjoy the view. I was also told I didn't need to turn or do anything but stand up straight so they could admire my front.
I stood and blushed, which pleased them immensely, and Ma was complemented for having my hands tied behind my back which assured a good view of the front parts for I couldn't cover them in any way. Ma Bristol firmly declared a policy of "hands off but did kindly concede Mister Simpson a cupping of my breasts with his hard and horny hands as if he had a real need of making sure they were real. By the time my blush began to fade, I was enjoying the whole affair. These people lived in a world I hadn't known existed. To them I represented something they probably could not name.
"It ain't that I'm complaining, Ma," Hattie said earnestly, "but this here gal you're showing us now makes the one you give me look like a pullet which ain't been eating regular. Couldn't Hank and me whip this one just once?"
It shows the degree of respect in which Ma Bristol was held that they accepted her "no you can't." I give you one already today, and I only brung Avon over because I knew you'd be curious. Lay off the kid or I'll take her home."
What I want to know is where these gals come from?" Mister Simpson pondered. "You come up with a pair of real beauties, Ma. And that one Hattie's got tied up in the old chicken coop makes a real good screw. But the whole time I was working on her, she keeps on about wanting to go home and wouldn't I quite if she give me a blow job." He looked at us confidingly. "I ain't never had no blow job. Guess I should have asked her what the hell it was."
"I doubt you'll find out," Hattie said. Then she turned to Ma Bristol. "That Prunes' gonna be real handy with Hank so he ain't bothering me all the time. Ma, I gotta thank you again for that little bit of fluff. She ain't no way as good as what we're looking at right now. But she's got all the right parts in the right places, and Hank's as happy as cat with two tails."
"Look, Hattie, you ain't whipping that girl to bits, are you?"
"You don't have to worry. I got to thinking on the way home. The girl's was cropped pretty good and I figures I shouldn't wear her down too much or she won't be much good to Hank. And, anyways, I'll chain her feet and make her earn her keep. Ma, you give us a whole new life."
While everyone was sharing the overflow of good will, Hattie suggested that since they had a good look at me and I didn't want any coffee anyway , so why not take me to share the chicken coop with Prune while they visited. Ma thought this a good idea and, even though Mister Simpson had no wish to loose sight of the way I was put together, he didn't say a word. First thing I knew I was inside a musty old trap of a place who's roof was supported by a couple of poles about ten feet apart. To one of these the girl called Prune was tightly tied with a severity to gain my instant sympathy. She looked at me with curiosity but at the older women without hope while they debated the manner in which I should be fastened. Hattie favored what she called "bang up job" but Ma Bristol firmly ruled that since I was already helpless all they needed was a noose around my neck tied well up on the other post. When this modest piece of bondage had got me safely anchored I could walk towards my fellow prisoner only a few feet before my neck was snubbed. We were then left alone.
Prune was not a prepossessing young woman but her need to talk was urgent. Her story spilled out in a steady stream of obscenities to end accusingly, "I'll bet if you tried hard enough you could get free of that pole, then you could come and get these ropes what are cutting me in two off. Hell, we could both take a powder and they wouldn't know."
"I can't take a powder, my feet are chained."
"Well, at least I could get away. And, if you wants I could send the cops after you." She gazed at me in reproach. "If someone don't help, we gonna be here for life."
"If I could reach you, I'd free you," I assured. "But you can see how I'm fixed. I can't possibly free myself. Tell me about you and Ginevera."
"I'm ashamed about her," Prune admitted thoughtfully. "This is the first time I've ever been tied up. And back then when they Rooster boys had her spread out on the bed with her wrists tied to each post, I didn't figure it was all that bad. There was lots of time I could have cut her loose but I would have had to run with her and I didn't figure it made sense...."
"Didn't you feel sorry for her?"
"Hell, no, that bunch of assholes was giving it to her regular. And if she hadn't been tied, she probably would have enjoyed it. Jeepers, being tied that way day after day...."
"But, Prune, you're not chained at all the way I am. Are you sure you can't find a bit of slack in those ropes?"
"Shit no! If I could have wiggled out of this, I'd been long gone. And I wouldn't care how naked I was, I'd run for a main road and hightail it down the center until somebody picked me up." Prune gazed at me hard. "This whole thing don't make no sense! There's no money in it! I don't know about you, but there ain't nobody's gonna ransom me. Are these people a bunch of kooks?"
"I suppose you could call Mrs. Simpson that but the woman who owns me isn't like that at all. Look, Prune, I've got friends. I'm bound to get rescued sometime, and when that happens I'll make sure you get rescued, too."
Unhappily, Prune said, "I'm afraid it won't happen for a while. You're here because you wanted to be," she accused. "Didn't take me long to figure that out." I couldn't answer that one because it was true. "I just came her to get that Ginevera," Prune continued, "I didn't know I was gonna to run into no bondage club convention. Shit, just look at me! And I got a sore bottom to boot!"
"Are you sure you don't deserve it?"
"You mean because I slept with them Rooster boys? And the chaps upstairs? Or that I didn't cut her loose when she asked? Hell, I wouldn't wish a riding crop across no girl's ass no matter what she done."
I sighed. This girl was emotionally mixed up and that was understandable. But her callous treatment of a girl she could have helped made me feel she wasn't the best companion in the world. I was about to say something disagreeable but was interrupted by the entrance to our coop of an obviously enraptured male.
I had never seen him before in my life.
CHAPTER FIVE - Ginevera
No girl likes to be chained and locked inside a dungeon. Ginevera was not even certain why she was thus treated, which left her uncertain whether to laugh or cry. She suspected Lady Alyth was having fun. But a girl could never be sure of Lady Alyth. Or, for that matter, of Westley Wallace. And, in the meantime, the dungeon's creeping dread was clutching at her nudity even through the air was warm. It was very much a case of going back to square one.
The chains were what Ginevera thought of as the "full treatment." Every bit of her was fettered with heavy links and bands and locks. There were even bands and chains locked around her arms above her elbows. In a voyage of discover, the prisoner walked slowly and with effort around her prison to the accompaniment of much metallic clanging. Finally she sat back down. Everything had the flavor of having been done before. Ginevera knew an extra irritation in not being able to scratch her nose because, while her wrists were chained together in the ordinary way, they were also attached by a small number of links to her waist. No doubt someone in Trinity Castle was laughing.
Ginevera found her plight devoid of humor, seeing it as an ungracious welcome to her return from the United States and the Ozarks where Ma Bristol had kept her prisoner. It would have been nice to beat her fists against something human but all she could do with them was keep them tightly clenched. But she did shake her chains in anger. It was an outlet for frustration but didn't help much.
Resolutely she fought back tears.
Trinity's timing was always perfect. She spent the rest of the day and the entire night huddled in the corner of her cell, fearing the night and wondering why she was being so harshly treated. It was not until the sun was well up in the morning that her new condition was explained.
In the darkest of dungeons, Lady Alyth Hardcastle would always be a ray of sunshine, a vivid assurance that all was right with the world. And, even though she sometimes brought pain, her captive would always know that she was loved. Thus it was with Ginevera as she began her first new day back home.
"I'm sorry I was away," Lady Alyth said as she kissed her slavegirl gently. "I had them chain you down here because I thought it would do you good after everything that happened. From what Westley told me, I guess there were times you doubted Trinity existed. Welcome home!"
Lady Alyth took her time with the chains as though reluctant to free the lovely limbs. She turned the key slowly and paused in pleasure as each shackled fell away from Ginevera's skin. But when at last her slavegirl stood entirely free, she asked mischievously, "How does it feel darling?"
"Wonderful! Oh, Lady Alyth!"
"I knew it would, dear, I knew these lovely chains would make your homecoming more pleasant. Let's have a little hug before I lock on your handcuffs. You're so terribly sweet."
Their hug lasted a long time but finally Ginevera stood back and offered her wrists for the familiar bite of steel, which compared to the weight of metal she had worn throughout the night, seemed a mere trifle.
"I'll bet you're hungry," Lady Alyth said. "I don't suppose you want to be whipped before breakfast, so let's go and see what the cook has for us today."
Ginevera found herself enveloped in a warm mist of happiness. Lady Alyth made everything wonderful, defeating fear and tension, along with memories. Ginevera knew herself suddenly starving and was grateful for Lady Alyth's arm as she was led to food and coffee and a butler who failed to notice the young girl was both handcuffed and bare. Benson was a jewel. Ginevera wondered why he had never whipped her bottom the way everybody else in Trinity had.
"I felt sure you'd prefer breakfast before I whip you, dear." Lady Alyth sounded anxious for approval.
"Whipped?" Ginevera was still trying to catch up.
"To get you back on schedule, dear. Westley told me he'd whipped you at the proper time but I'm not at all sure he's telling the truth. And, if he did, I suspect he probably did more than tickle. Be truthful, darling, isn't that the way of it?"
"Well, yes, I guess you're talking about what you give all us girls every second week ... I'd forgotten."
"It's going to be so lovely having you again, dear. I've missed you terribly. I was terribly upset when you disappeared. Maybe I should never send you to American again."
"Where is Westley?" Ginevera suddenly felt remiss.
"Do try the grilled kidneys," Lady Alyth urged. "I'm a great believer in a good breakfast, especially when a girl is facing....Well, don't let's talk about that at mealtimes. You were speaking of poor, dear Westley. Well, I have to you he's off on another of those business trips. But he left you his fondest wishes and love. And suggested I reduce your ritual whipping from twenty to fifteen. I won't do it, of course, but his thought was sweet."
Ginevera was still trying to get her feet back on the ground after a bad night in the dungeon. Doubtfully, she said, "Westley's suppose to be my husband. He shouldn't leave me round like I'm a piece of luggage."
"Well, boys will be boys, dear. Eat your breakfast and don't worry about Westley. He'll show up sooner or later. By the way, I'm now offering my girls a choice between their back or bottom or a combination of both. It's a nice idea and has been well received." Lady Alyth beamed benevolence. "Do you have a preference?"
Ginevera managed to laugh. "What happens, Lady Alyth, when a girl tells you she doesn't want either?"
"She gets an extra ten. I'm sure you won't say anything silly like that."
"I was thinking of it but I won't. But, about Westley, I'm puzzled...."
Lady Alyth Hardcastle took a sip of coffee and speared a kidney. For a moment or two she actually appeared embarrassed. "I'm afraid I've got a bit of a shock for you about Westley, dear. But I'd rather tell you about it while you're being whipped."
Ginevera let the matter drop. She had never expected Westley Wallace to be like other husbands, and if he was now bedding down some other girl in a foreign land, that would be normal. 'Tell me whenever you want," Ginevera said calmly. "But are you going to send me back to the girls?"
"I really think I should. Do take a slice of this French toast, dear. Oh, yes, about the Class ... Miss Prelate was asking after you. She's afraid your habits and deportment may have become slack in what she insist on calling the American colonies. But she mustn't punish you on your first day back. Cheer up, darling. Miss Wingate loves you dearly."
Ginevera ate busily, wondering if she would ever get back to normal, or if in fact there was such a thing as normal for Trinity. On the other hand, it could well be that everyone who now touched her life was the only normalcy she would every know. She remembered telling someone or the other that being a prisoner was her normal condition in life and she expected nothing else. So what had she to complain of? She clinked her handcuffs and smiled across the table at a lovely woman who owned her totally. When Benson tempted her with sweetbreads and pastries, she explained that a girl about to be whipped shouldn't eat too much.
"You're behaving splendidly, darling." said Lady Alyth as she circled Ginevera's raised wrists with the familiar leather strap. "If this was a punishment, I'd forgive you and let you go. But it isn't that, and we both understand what it really is. Don't we, dear?"
"It's because you really enjoy whipping me, Lady Alyth."
"That's calling a spade a spade, dear, but, of course, you're right. Give me your hand, dear."
It was fearfully and wonderfully familiar. Ginevera felt as naked as on that first day long ago, and just as helpless as she had ever been. Staring deep into Lady Alyth's eyes, she went through the familiar motions of tugging at strapped wrists. "I think I'd like the whole twenty on my bottom, if you don't mind, Lady Alyth. I think don't think I'll ever grow accustomed to having my back whipped. Will you please use the cane?"
"Of course I will, darling. I enjoy caning your sweet rump. Isn't that a delightful word for your bottom? Please, count out each stroke."
"Must I?"
"Of course you must, I'm in that sort of a mood, darling. Be a good girl and pay attention or you'll earn yourself some extras. Or do you enjoy some extras?"
Aware of being in a no-win situation, Ginevera kept silent-except for the hateful counting. She knew she could handle somewhere about the first four. But if Lady Alyth applied them too fast and too hard, Ginevera knew she might become flustered and perhaps miss a count. She did and earned an extra, so much more severe than the others that she whimpered in manner to leave her ashamed. Had Ginevera been noticing, she would have seen Lady Alyth's eyes spark at that extra hard stroke and her breathing increase. This owner of Trinity Castle and the girls within fed upon female suffering and marked bodies. Ginevera tried to be careful about the numbers.
When she had called out twelve, the whipping stopped and she was lovingly kissed and held tight. "You were asking about Westley, dear," Lady Alyth whispered. "Are you still interested?"
"Of course I am. He hasn't been hurt or something, has he?" Ginevera forgot her pain and the strokes still to come.
"No, he's okay, sweetheart," Lady Alyth laughed. "Westley's always okay, he's got a gift for it."
"Then what is it you have to tell me about him?"
"Only that the two of you aren't married and never were." Lady Alyth allowed her statement to hang heavy in the air. "Blame me, darling, it's all my fault. I arranged the whole thing, including that minister, who isn't a minister at all."
"But why!"
"Because I wanted Westley to produce a son. Or maybe I should say I wanted you to make me a baby, a baby who would one day inherit Trinity."
Enveloped in shame, Ginevera said, "I'm sorry, so sorry, Lady Alyth. Please forgive me."
"I thought it was you who should forgive me." Lady Alyth's tone had returned to its customary authority. "You mustn't worry about this, honey, Westley's young and you're young and maybe one day it's going to happen. But I've cheated you...."
"No more than I cheated you, sweetheart." Ginevera laughed. "Remember when you took me off the pill? Well, Westley put me right back on."
"Oh? Well ... and it was the same with you whipping. If he did it at all, I'll bet he just gave you a light, token attempt at a real whipping. He's a terribly sweet boy."
"But he's gone away and left me."
"He'll be back, dear, and I'm sure he'll give you all the attention you could desire. I suspect dear Westley is habit forming."
Suddenly it occurred to the hung up girl that she was in the middle of being whipped. Lady Alyth's revelation had driven most everything else from her mind. But she was somehow grateful that her wedding had meant nothing more than a hoax, a dummy run to test her willingness to conceive. On one hand she was happy but a new cloud appeared on her horizon.
"I feel as if I've been demoted," she admitted slowly. "I mean I'm not the sultan's favorite anymore. And we don't even have a sultan, either. Oh, Lady Alyth, where does this leave me?"
"It leaves you my favorite girl, darling, just as you were before. To tell the truth, I was jealous of Westley. Especially this honeymoon thing in New York. I could have murdered the boy when he lost you."
"You mean I'll be kept naked and handcuffed and sent back to the Class?"
"Of course. Otherwise you'd be bored stiff."
"Are you going to finish whipping me now?"
"Goodness gracious, I almost forgot. I'm so glad you reminded me, dear. I do so think these whippings do you girls so much good. You've got eight more coming." The whip swished as Lady Alyth cut cunningly and without favor up and down the curves held available. The impacts upon Ginevera's smooth skin were accompanied by her gasps and the screams bitten off before they passed her lips. The eight strokes were neither swift or slow, but beautifully measured with Lady Alyth's usual skill. When Ginevera was kissed and left alone, she knew everything was back to normal for Lady Alyth's favorite slave.
Ginevera's whipping was over for the time being and that was comforting to the hurting girl. Affectionately she thought of Avon and Ma Bristol and wondered if Avon was happy in her punishment.... It was at this point in Ginevera's musings that Erin came to call.
It was nice to be kissed and hugged even thought Ginevera had no arms with which to hold the nymphet close. But Erin's affection was enough for two. Mischievously, the youngster rubbed Ginevera's nipples and shrewdly watched the effect on Ginevera's face. Ginevera told her to cut that out, at which point Erin simply transferred her attentions to Ginevera's furry patch. When this too had gone far enough, curiosity took over.
"I'll bet it was really wonderful to sleep with Westley every night in that hotel in New York. Do tell me how Westley does it to a girl. He still refused to do it to me. Sometimes I could scream."
Ginevera did her best. Any way you looked at it, it was best to have this lively girl hanging upon her ever word instead of just standing in solitary nakedness.
"You look so gorgeous like that after you've been whipped, darling." Erin kissed two hard nipples and patted Ginevera's pussy. "You're so wonderfully beautiful, and Mommy has promised I can take a turn at whipping you. Once in a while, I mean. Yummy!"
Ginevera agreed it was, indeed, yummy and she could hardly wait. "Is Miss Prelate still teaching the class," she asked.
"Oh, that old trout. Of course, she's still teaching. We'll never get rid of her and I don't know why Mommy keeps her on. Maybe it's because Mommy doesn't want to punish us the way Miss Prelate does." Erin drew in indignant breath. "Darling, she actually caned my hands yesterday. It was only two strokes on each palm but it hurt. And when I went to Mommy, she simply laughed. She told me that maybe next time I'd be lucky and get four."
"Aren't you suppose to be in class?"
"I got time off to come and visit you. And the old bitty actually took the handcuffs off my wrists so I could give you a good hug. The other girls think I'm privileged because I'm Mommy's daughter. I guess they're right. And Mommy tells me you're not to be punished for at least your first day back in class." The nymphet sighed. "Now I know I can be punished the same as any other girl. It adds a bit of icing to the cake. Except I have to behave very well. I'll bet Miss Prelate will punish me just to show authority. Just you wait and see."
"You're growing up, Erin."
"Yes, I suppose I am. And I'm so pleased with the way my breasts are coming along. But I'm not sure I want to stay in the Class forever, and be naked, and wear handcuffs, and be chained to the floor every night. I keep asking Mommy what she's going to do with me when I really grow up, but she just laughs." Erin pouted. "I suppose I can marry Westley. If you don't want to. Look, darling, please ask him to break my maidenhead when Mommy isn't looking. I'm sure it's time." The youthful voice suddenly became anxious. "Mommy wouldn't be able to tell, would she? I mean, after Westley's done it to me?"
"I wouldn't bet on it, sweetheart, mothers sense these things. You'd probably earn yourself a real punishment."
"I wouldn't mind, no I wouldn't. I mean, a girl has to start somewhere."
Ginevera felt better. Erin's chatter was always a delight. And they were still involved when Lady Alyth came to give Ginevera back her hands.
"I want to two of you back in the Class after lunch," she ordered. "Miss Prelate is expecting both of you." She kissed them both and left.
Ginevera could not have asked for a warmer welcome among her fellow prisoners and the Class. Even Miss Prelate was cordial and told her to take her own time in settling back into the old routine. But, in spite of a friendly atmosphere. Ginevera felt deflated. Westley Wallace and New York City had been heady stuff. And then there had been the Ozarks farm and Ma Bristol. Given a chance to return to that farm, Ginevera would have refused but nevertheless carried a lingering memory of something good.
But now she sat in the classroom, wrists joined by the familiar cuffs, while at night her ankle bore its shackle and chain. Everything about her return to this captivity left Ginevera in a vacuum of discontent.
There were undercurrents, Ginevera sensed them. Gradually they took shape and form. Miss Prelate returned to being the severe authority with the result that many female palms were caned. And the curves of girlish bottoms were made scarlet by the crop. When the girls were left alone in recreation or before it was time for bed, there were mutterings. But Angela Prelate's venom was focused on someone closer to Ginevera's heart.
An educated man might reason that Audrey Wingate was everything Miss Prelate was not. In face and figure the two women were a world apart, as were their temperaments. It was understood by all that the punishments Miss Prelate inflicted upon her pupils were not motivated by any desire to correct a fault, but out of some fire of resentment the older mistress held for the young and beautiful.
The situation was understood by all, and when Ginevera was called to Miss Prelate's office she was not as shocked as she might have been. She found Angela Prelate behind her desk while and obvious shamed and frightened Audrey Wingate stood at attention to one side, cheeks flushed and breasts heaving. Miss Prelate wasted no time.
"I'm about to punish Miss Wingate, Ginevera, dear," she said sweetly. "And I wish you as a witness to increase her shame while she enjoys the pain of her punishment." Miss Prelate paused only long enough for a single deep breath of satisfaction. "The reasons for the punishment are understood, as are Miss Wingate's need to obey and endure. We have no mood for pretense here, nor for appeals to a higher authority. Miss Wingate, I will be obliged if you now remove your clothes."
Ginevera shrink as she knew herself witness to cruelty for the sake of cruelty. And she wondered how much longer Audrey Wingate would endure such unfairness before marching into Lady Alyth's office to tender her resignation. The unwilling witness clenched her fists and had to watch the scene unfold before her.
Quite obviously the two mistresses had arrived at an understanding before Ginevera had entered the room. Even though she was trembling in fear, Audrey Wingate had evidently decided to endure one more punishment as the price she believe she had to pay for the scrape of authority which earned so generous a salary. Without haste but wasting no time, reluctant fingers found the fastenings and set a side one garment after another until the young woman's loveliness was displayed for all to see.
"I expect you to stand quite still and remain silent." Miss Prelate spared Ginevera a wintry smile. "If you insist upon interfering, you will join Miss Wingate in her correction." She turned her attention to the waiting girl. "And now, Miss Wingate, as a preliminary to our main task, I will ask you to extend your palm, properly taut, for the cane. You will receive two strokes on each before your hands are bound."
The nude mistress swallowed hard. She extended her bare right arm in the sacrificial surrender so dearly beloved in the schools of yesteryear. The cane cut its agony across Audrey's palm.
"You other hand, Miss Wingate."
Audrey's self-discipline was complete. Having endured the same punishment herself, Ginevera now watched in breathless admiration as the naked woman extended her other palm. It was not that the junior mistress showed no response to pain, but her acknowledgments by sounds and motions were so controlled as to evoke admiration even in Miss Prelate's eye, and leave Ginevera longing to beat cuffed fists against Miss Prelate's face.
One stroke became two, and two became four to leave Audrey's hands hanging limply at her side.
"When you've wiped away those silly tears, Miss Wingate, you may extend your hands to be bound. In front, please, with wrists crossed."
Once again the total obedience. The briefing before Ginevera's appearance must have been total. With obvious pleasure, Miss Prelate wound the cords and tugged them tight to slender wrists below the anguished hands. And a minute later Trinity's junior mistress stood with hands high above her head, tethered from above, in a total revelation of her nakedness. Miss Prelate was almost drooling. "As a further punishment, I intend to cane your bottom, dear Miss Wingate. Considering your academic background, I'm sure you will see this as appropriate. I have no number of strokes in mind but see this whole thing as a contribution I made to the correction of your character. Prepare yourself."
It was obvious Audrey found it difficult to remain silent, a difficulty Ginevera shared. Both girls swallowed hard before Ginevera found herself witness to the punishment of female flesh far beyond the norm. The cane bit hard to remove the punishment far beyond anything a girl might expect in a Victorian schoolroom. Each impact was a solid thud, indenting feminine flesh and etching a weal across the soft skin. Audrey would wear marks from this caning for a long time.
Surprisingly, Miss Prelate was satisfied by far fewer strokes than either girl expected. When the caning stopped Audrey's relief was obvious. But both the watcher and the watched remained alert. "You are doing well, dear child," Angela Prelate viciously said. "It is time now for us to emphasis something more personal. Ginevera, if you will be so kind, I would like you to apply to Miss Wingate's breasts and nipples such attention as you need to firm and enlarge them for the whip. Come alone now, don't be shy."
Once more authority won. Ginevera felt the command as she might have an actually blow. Her eyes met Audrey's and shared her anguish. But her steps took her to the semi-suspended girl to gently kiss the already erect nipples. Then her teasing fingertips traced lines on the her breasts and around the taut nipples. At a sharp command from Miss Prelate, Ginevera took an entire nipple in her mouth and sucked. Audrey moaned. When ordered to, she switched to the other breasts to suck that tit into a highly rigid state and evoke moans of pleasure from the bound girl. Finally she was told to quit. Face to face, the two girls stared, Ginevera imploring and Audrey forgiving. Then, returning to stand and watch, Ginevera beheld the wicked little whip of several thongs. It must have been designed by someone who hated girls for the slender thongs were of a perfect size for lashing a girl's breasts.
The voice of authority was relentless, "You would do well, Miss Wingate, to keep your breasts well thrust forward for the lash. If you shrink away and contort, you will affect my aim and I have no wish to mark your face. I consider ten with this pretty little whip across each breast a most moderate correction. And, since I don't think we have done this before, you should find the experience worth while. And now, dear, before I mark up these two fine breasts, I must compliment you on their size and contours and those superb nipples, which I assure you will not be cut. Kindly prepare yourself."
The preparation was simple. Fearful of the whip, the junior mistress tossed back her hair and stared up at the ceiling and her bound hands, a motion which further protruded her breasts. She bravely held that pose as best she could as her breasts bobbed beneath the leather thongs. Expertly applied, the lash dealt with each breast separately and with an accuracy to cause Ginevera to marvel as she beheld first one breast then the other change to scarlet. When the second anguished sphere was similarly crimson. Miss Prelate put away her wicked little whip and became conversational.
"You look exquisite, Miss Wingate. I would suggest you contrive to have your breasts regularly whipped. I find the effect most pleasing. If I had my way, I would redden the breasts of any member of my class whose behavior merited correction. A girl's breasts are very personal and I'm sure you will agree. Miss Wingate, that to have them whipped is a dimension of punishment more effect than the conventional palms or bottom." She smiled upon to anguished young women, then continued grandly. "We will now move lower in our endeavor to promote character where most desired. I'm sure, Miss Wingate, you are well aware of that portion of yourself I have in mind."
Both girls were instantly aware. Miss Prelate's fine flourish of eloquence left them with a longing to scream and somehow break the authority which held them both. But neither young woman was prepared for Miss Prelate's piece de resistance, which took the form of binding Audrey's left ankle with several loops of rope the pulling her foot up high towards another ceiling ring. This left the naked victim standing on one foot only to watch her other bare limb and suffer the mental anguish of knowing her private sexual parts were wide open. When her left foot was higher than either girl would have thought possible, the rope was made secure and Angela Prelate made a selection of a fresh instrument from the rack upon the wall, a single thonged whip of vicious intent. At sight of this wicked whip, Audrey's resolve failed.
"I can't stand any more," she wailed. "You're not being reasonable. No girl should ever be whipped on her sex. Please, I beg you, no more ... no more!"
"Were you not ordered silent, dear child?"
"Yes, but I can't help it. I have to ask you to stop whipping me. I've tried so hard to be as you wish, but you don't know where to stop. You'll kill me if you keep on like this."
"Nonsense, you know it's doing you good."
The raised leg enabled the leather to find its mark from either front or back. Miss Prelate paid no attention whatsoever to Audrey's pleas but methodically whipped the exposed sex as though it were a thing which had to be subdued. Probably, in her mind, that was what it was. She vent all her pent up anger onto that poor girl's sex with vicious upward strokes that evoked loud screams from the bound girl. After the third stroke each new impact brought Audrey's unfettered foot off the floor to dance uselessly in the air as an expression of the pain.
Miss Prelate whipped away happily to the accompaniment of Audrey Wingate's whimpers of protest and pain. It is doubtful if Trinity ever so cruelly marked a mistress or a pupil upon her sex. The unusual nature of the punishment was emphasized by Miss Prelate's lack of interest in a virgin back. When she returned the whip to its place upon the rack, Audrey Wingate hung sweating and panting, and almost unconscious.
Miss Prelate was in no hurry to free her punished mistress. But as full conscious began to return to the whipped girl, small motions of revolt against the bizarre bondage and Angela Prelate thoughtfully freed the suspended foot to return both captive feet to the floor. Audrey looked at Ginevera as her leg came down and smiled a pale, wane smile.
The senior mistress as Ginevera stood to watch and to admire her handiwork. Audrey's skin was red from the impacts of the thong with patches shading to purple. Gingerly she lifted one foot and then the other to try and ease the pain between her legs. The cruelly whipped nakedness seemed a perfect picture of submissiveness but, as the last knot was untied to give her back her wrists. Miss Audrey Wingate performed a truly shocking act. Her arms suddenly swung and with all her youthful strength she implanted a fist in a resounding crack across Miss Prelate's cheek. While the senior mistress was occupied with shock, Audrey gathered her clothes and shoes and stamped from the room.
"You're excused from class for the rest of the day, dear," Miss Prelate said as she rubbed a red cheek and gazed thoughtfully at the closed door. "I have decided not to follow up this outrageous incident. That young woman has been punished enough today. But will most certainly be punished again. I would be much obliged if you would seek her out and try to persuade the silly creature to see her punishment in it's proper context. If fear I taxed her fortitude a step beyond its limit. I should have spread the several whipping out over the afternoon. But really I have no time for the silliness of tears. I know you two have a rapport, that's why I invited you here. We will now consider the incident closed. You may go."
Ginevera went. But it was not until she was well beyond the door that her clenched fists relaxed within their handcuff, and their owner realized there was but one thing she must now do. Resolutely, she turned in the direction of Lady Alyth's office.
An artist would have found delight in the sweetness of the scene. A beauty in her customary chair and, draped across her lap like a child seeking forgiveness, was the lovely nude form of a girl whose head was on Lady Alyth's shoulder and whose arms were around her neck. Audrey Wingate was sobbing as though her heart would break. At a nod from Lady Alyth Ginevera found a chair to wait in silence for the Madonna-like tableau to run its course as Lady Alyth's hand reassuringly patted a bare shoulder damp with the sweat of pain.
"Stand up and let me look at you," Lady Alyth demanded. "Angela suddenly went all out on you." Her eyes sought the crying girl's. "Are you sure there was no reason for her to punish you like this?"
"She hates me! She hates me!" Audrey's sobs had given way to a fury of injustice. "She hates me because I'm young and pleasant to look at in a way I don't think she ever was. I just can't cope with her anymore."
Lady Alyth raised a quizzical eyebrow at Ginevera to inquire with a touch of caustic, "I suppose you, too, have come to register a complaint?"
"She's cruel, and Audrey's is absolutely right about the hatred and jealousy. Oh, Lady Alyth, I'm so mad I could burst."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Can't you get rid of the woman? Trinity doesn't need a tyrant. I've kept a count and Miss Prelate has caned twenty hands and seventeen bottoms in the last two days. That's too much! Oh, Lady Alyth, it's far, far too much."
Lady Alyth Hardcastle was examining the secret places of a whipped girl, her fingertips extracting fresh gasps and moans from lips already overworked with expressions of pain. "I'm sure you both think I should discharge the woman," she said evenly. "And I don't really blame you." Lady Alyth paused, her mind occupied with private thoughts. Then she continued, "I am not yet ready to remove Angela Prelate from her office. In many ways she is exactly what the Class requires. But, since her animosity is now centered upon poor Audrey as we see here now, I think it prudent of me to make a change." She gently kissed the brow of a troubled junior mistress and asked, "Would you not be better off, dear, as a pupil instead of a mistress?"
Audrey visibly tensed. Her voice held disbelief. "You mean ... !"
"Yes, that's what I mean, Audrey. As a pupil you will no longer be a focus for poor Miss Prelate's suppressed frustrations. I must tell both of you right now that I do not want to discharge her at this time. There is between us something which is of no concern of yours but which leaves me with an obligation to leave her as the head mistress of Trinity. So let us forget Miss Prelate for the moment and consider the best course for darling Audrey."
As the female with most at stake, Audrey had listened carefully and now expressed doubt. "But I can't be a pupil, I have to make a living. Lady Alyth, you know my circumstances."
"Don't be silly, dear, of course I know your circumstances and I will look after them. As a pupil at Trinity, you will receive the same weekly stipend as a mistress. I fear you may have been discredited as an authority because of the constant disciplines Angela Prelate has thrust upon you. But you are much loved by the pupils and could be happy as one of the girls. I will simply have to instruct Angela to leave you alone. She may give you mild punishments as needed, but that is all."
She gently kissed a pair of astonished female lips. "I cannot possibly have a class any girl totally absolved from punishment. My daughter Erin is sin the Class and you are well aware of her being naked and handcuffed and punished whenever she deserves. The same is true of Ginevera. I will make certain none of you are injured by cruel inflictions from now on." Lady Alyth looked from one girl to the other with her most endearing smile. "How does that sit with you, darlings?"
Ginevera went and knelt at Lady Alyth's feet, gathering Lady Alyth's hand and kissing it, before returning to where she had been seated. As if in a trance, Audrey Wingate followed suit, kissing the loving hand over and over in gratitude. Lady Alyth's hand rested within the lovely black hair as she made a gentle reminder. "You have said goodbye to clothes, Audrey, dear. Can you handle this?"
"I must handle it, I have to. The girls have all seen me naked during punishments, it is nothing new."
"And you will be always handcuffed?"
"Yes, I will be handcuffed. I don't mind being handcuffed."
"The ones I will use upon your wrists, dear, are in that draw over there. I want you to bring them to me and kiss them before handing them to me. You will then extend your wrists in their final freedom."
Audrey went one better, finding the pretty bracelets, she sank to her knees before the noblewoman who was her friend, kissed the steel, and handed the bonds to receptive hands, the extended her own. Then, for the first time in her life, watched Lady Alyth encircle her wrists in shinning chrome, to feel the bit of the smooth, shinning metal and listen to the final clicks. When her hands were joined, Audrey surveyed the scene almost in disbelief that this could happen to a mistress. Then she suddenly remembered that Miss Audrey Wingate had become a pupil in a school were she had worked. Suddenly there was rapport. Three females looked at each other and glowed. There was hugging and kissing. Under Lady Alyth's guidance they went to the dorm where Audrey was told to sit upon a cot while her ankle was encircled by the heavy shackle, the chain of which was solidly anchored in the floor.
"There you are, darling," Lady Alyth said brightly. "The best thing for you is sleep. But when the girls come they'll want to see your marks and have you tell them why you're here. They'll be kind to you, and if anyone is not, you must tell me. Please don't mind the shackle and chain, every pupil has one."
They went away to leave the girl who had once been Miss Audrey Wingate, junior mistress of Trinity. "Doesn't she look adorable like that," Lady Alyth whispered as she and Ginevera closed the door. "Please look after her, darling, and try to make her happy. It is going to be a vast humiliation for the first few days but she'll adjust."
"Wouldn't it be a happy solution if you made a gift of Audrey to one of these people you wish to please, you know, you've done it with others? The way you did with me and that Murdoc woman?"
"Audrey isn't ready for that yet. Give her time to become accustomed to her chains."
The Class took Audrey Wingate unto itself with joy. They embraced her fresh nudity and laughed with her over the handcuffs on her wrists. But among them was a growing conviction that Angela Prelate had brought her vindictiveness to its inevitable conclusion by reducing her junior mistress to the status of a slave. They insisted that a blushing Audrey display her whip-marked skin in all the secret places sought out by the whip. Audrey's bottom and breasts vividly proclaimed their punishment. And as the cruelty of that punishment was more and more revealed there rose up among the Class a feeling against the woman who had done it. It didn't help that over the last week or so that same woman had dealt most of the pupils pain and punishment above the average for Trinity. Groups formed to mutter among themselves, and by supper time there was a general atmosphere of discontent.
Radcliff, the guard, came to unlock Audrey's ankle shackle to enable her to attend dinner with the rest. But when the meal was done, the newly enslaved pupil was returned to the dorm to wear her metal chain once again until morning, an infliction which bothered Audrey little for all she wanted to do right now was sleep. But, by bedtime, when the ankles of the other girls were similarly shackled to the floor, the pupils were in a ferment of revolt, not so much against Trinity or Lady Alyth, but focusing upon the woman they believed the true enemy. Among the twenty shackled girls were malcontents who discovered in the general outrage over Audrey's wounds a weapon to be used in seeking the escape they had dream of since first imprisonment. A forceful young woman whose captivity was in its fourth year, gravitated by natural selection to a role of leader, a post Miss Diana Majors seized upon hungrily.
"I haven't spoken of this before," she said as her eyes roved the expectant faces suddenly at her command. "But I've known for a long time this chain on my ankle is coming loose from where it's fastened to the floor. I haven't thought about it much because even if I got it free, there was nowhere I could go. But now I have a plan for all of us to get the hell out of Trinity and to freedom. We can do it if we work together.
There's twenty of us and, with Audrey and Ginevera there's twenty-two. If we get ourselves loose, we can jump Angela Prelate and get the keys. If we deal with the bitch who's been punishing us, we needn't bother with anyone else." She paused for effect to let her words sink home. "I'll have to pull my own chain loose by myself. But once I've done that the next girl and I will have four hands to use. And then six and then eight...." She looked around in triumph. "Think of it, we're going to be free!"
Ginevera was appalled. Diana was prey to wishful thinking and longing for lost freedom. But she was confronting many handicaps and hazards she did not even realize. She would surely find defeat. Ginevera shuttered to think what would happen to any girl who instigated and lead so courageous a revolt against authority. The best she could hope for was the dungeon and the worst was too awful to contemplate. Ginevera stood up to and the voice of reason.
"Diana, don't start something you can't finish. Supposing we actually did drag loose our chain. It would still be locked on our ankle and then what would we do with it. And if we did find the mistress' keys they would only get us free of the shackle and our handcuffs. We'd still be prisoners inside Trinity Castle itself. We've all seen the doors and locks and bars. We can't possibly get through. And, even if we got out into the patio, we couldn't get over the wall." She gazed around unhappily. "It's a bad plan and I won't have any part of it."
"That's all right for you, you're Lady Alyth's pet. And Westley Wallace, when he's around, can't get enough of you. You've got it good." Diana turned to her larger audience. "We don't need Ginevera, leave her out of it. And leave Erin out of it. She and Ginevera can stay and enjoy their chains. For my part, I'm going to see if I can't drag this thing out of the floor right now."
The air in the dorm was electric. Girls were standing on their cot for a better view as Diana, desperate and alone, fought her battle with the iron symbol of captivity. The task was obviously not as easy as supposed but, using her chain for a whiplash effect, she discovered a weapon which, after several minutes of intense effort, brought victory. Holding defeated hardware in her hand, she held it up to view. "You see, it can be done. Damn it, girls, we're going to be free!"
The dorm split into two factions but the timid and wise were outnumbered by those who found in Diana's plan the answer to a prayer. Diana was now working with willing hands to find the second anchorage loose enough to pull loose. In a small space of minutes the labors met with success and the two girls moved on to number three. The atmosphere in the dorm was electric.
Ginevera could not blame them and wondered if she should not join the majority in her search for a freedom she had once desired. She looked at Erin and shrugged resignation as the process of freeing feminine ankles went on.
But victory proved more elusive than Diana has supposed. Most of the chains were so firmly anchored as to solidly resist the effort of all hands that could pull upon them. By the time every chain had been tested, there was a total of only seven which had been torn free of the floor and which the girls were now busy tying the loose ends to their waists with strips from a torn sheet. Ginevera was thankful that Audrey Wingate's chain was one of those too solidly fastened to drag free.
A triumphant Diana now led her troops to seek the enemy but not before there had been tearful farewells and promises of help should the revolt succeed. When the door had closed behind the seven, the dorm was strangely still and silent, as though those who should have been asleep were tensely listening.
CHAPTER SIX - Avon
The last thing I wanted was a man. No girl with her hands tied behind her back and a tether on her neck can ever possibly desire a man. Unless she knows he's good for a heroic rescue. And maybe good in bed. But it wasn't hard to guess the name of the male who stood in the doorway to look at Prune and I as though not believing his eyes but grateful for what he saw. He took several hesitant steps toward Prune and I, and once more with a strange male I felt my blush begin to creep and longed for several hands with which to cover everything I had. As it was he got a full frontal view of both of us.
He was young, maybe not even twenty. He was embarrassed but determined. "I ain't never seen nothin' like this," by way of introduction. "I never knowed gals could be this beautiful."
"I'll bet your name's Jimmy Gates," Prune exclaimed as though it was good news. "Look, kid, get me untied and you can take me where ever it is you're going. I ain't the least bit fussy. Just get me out of here."
It was doubtful if he heard. He was still busily involved with a visual inventory which included four feminine breasts, and a pair of pubic patches. It was not hard to guess he had never seen such an inventory before and felt the need to comment upon it. "I never knew you gals had all them things," he said reverently. "I'm sure glad I come over because I didn't have no idea there'd be two of you." He looked hungrily at me. "Mrs. Simpson said I could whip a girl's bottom. Gosh, miss, I sure hope it's yours."
"It ain't hers, it's mine," Prune interjected jealously. "What you're looking at don't belong to Mrs. Simpson. Look, you asshole, how about untying me? We ain't got all night."
Jimmy Gates was slow on the uptake but not dumb. "If I untie you, miss, you'll just run a way," he pointed out reasonable. "Mrs. Simpson would be real mad and I wouldn't get to whip no ass."
"Shit, all you have to do is fix me the way Avon's fixed. I wouldn't be able to do nothing but you and I would sure have ourselves a time."
Once more poor Prune's words missed their mark. Jimmy Gates was looking at me longingly and I'm sure his suggestion struck him as reasonable. "Look, miss, if you're just visiting then maybe I don't get to see you no more." His tone was sincere and honest. "Couldn't I just whip you a little while you're here and then you could lay down so I could have a piece of tail. I ain't never had no piece of tail but I bet it would be real good with you."
Poor kid, I wanted to laugh. There's something pathetic about a man who's never made it with a girl, and his request to whip my bottom was so sweetly wistful, I almost told him to go right ahead. Fortunately I thought of Ma Bristol and told him with a touch of severity, "I'm sorry but I don't belong to me. If you know what I mean. I belong to Ma Bristol and can't give myself away. Besides, I don't want to be whipped, so why don't you untie Prune over there so the two of you can run away and be happy ever after. Just leave me the way I am."
"Couldn't I leave Prune and take you?"
"No, you can't. Be kind to the poor girl, she's willing to do things for you. Get her untied."
Prune was far from flattered and to emphasis the need for urgency was tugging and straining feverishly at Mrs. Simpson's ropes. I would have dearly loved to kick Jimmy Gates for his lack of chivalry. But since he could not have me, he turned his attentions to what he considered the next best thing. He went to work on the binding securing the object of his lust to that pole. Prune was in a dither and constantly glancing towards the door and the possible appearance of the woman who would probably send Jimmy packing and resume operations with the whip. But it was only a couple of minutes before Prune stood free, at which point Jimmy looked at me to ask, "There, I done it. What should I do with her now?"
I knew Prune had been figuring possibilities. Her car was at Ma Bristol's place. Naked and alone there was no place she could run without the danger of being returned to a woman she had cause to fear. Jimmy had a car and was thus undoubtedly her best bet. For Prune the giving of her body to a man was a trifling thing by which a rich reward might come to her. Decisively she crossed her wrists behind her back and demanded, "Okay, go ahead and tie me. That way you'll have me safe. But, for Pete's sake, let's get out of here." Even through tied and relatively helpless, she strode towards the open door. Jimmy Gates turned to me with a motion of apology before hurrying off after a girl who could make his dreams come true. A few moments later I heard the starting of a car and the shifting of its gears as it left the scene. I was suddenly very much aware of being alone and naked and helpless, but consoled myself with the reflection that it was a condition of my own choice. Disgustedly I leaned back against the pole to await developments.
The developments were almost instant, triggered by the departure of Jimmy's car. I learned later they had been aware of Jimmy's arrival and had been chuckling over the boy's embarrassment and ineptitude with the two naked girls he would discover in the building where chickens had once laid eggs. Mr. Simpson volunteered the opinion that the astonished young man would suffer a premature ejaculation at the mere sight of the goodies helplessly displayed for his approval. Of course, I'm sure it wasn't in just those words. Anyway, his wife belabored her favorite topic of whipping my bare back. Ma, secure in her possession of my body and limbs, simply chuckled over their convictions.
I did not feel either happy or secure as my owner and her neighbor darkened the doorway to survey the vacant post and discarded rope. I received the full brunt of Hattie Simpson's indignation.
"What's you know about this, you bitch?" she demanded.
"Jimmy Gates untied Prune and took her away."
"Then why didn't they take you?"
"I told him I belonged to Ma and I think he understood. And, anyway a boy like that doesn't need two women to keep prisoner."
"You didn't tell him not to? You didn't scream for help?"
"What good would it have done?"
"She's right, you know, Hattie," Ma said. "You can easily pick them two up because Jimmy's mother won't have no part of a tied up girl in Jimmy's bedroom. He'll have to tie her to a tree in the woods someplace. Why don't you go to the Gates place and way until he shows up? You'll have a decent excuse for whipping the gal's ass instead of doing it just for fun. It's a lot better that way."
I could understand Hattie Simpson's next demand. "Why don't I do just that," she agreed. "But first off I want to whip this pretty trick of yours what just stood still and let it happen." Her tone became wistful. "Just twenty or thirty strokes, I ain't greedy."
I cringed. It is awful to be tied the way I was in the face of a woman's hunger for female skin. At that moment I wished I had run away with Jimmy Gates. I had little doubt that Prune and I would easily have gotten the best of the poor boy with promises of sexual delights to spark his lust. Had we shamefully exploited those parts of ourselves which set his loins on fire, we would probably been free by nightfall. Had we been able to steal his car, we could have been far away in a very short time. But the familiar guilt took hold to tell me I would never break my obligation to either Ma Bristol or Trinity. Or Ginevera. It seemed I was obligated in more directions that enough. I was grateful when Ma Bristol untied my tether to the pole and led me to the car.
"That was all my fault, I shouldn't have never taken you over there," Ma Bristol moaned as she gave me a sideways wink as we sat in the car. "That there Hattie is a real caution the way she's got herself stuck on you. Whenever she gets a look at my property a fire gets to burning inside her pants and all she can think of is whipping your ass. Sugar, I'm real sorry."
"What about Jimmy and Prune?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm a bitch but I'd be pleased if Hattie got her gal back so she wouldn't be getting the hots over you." She chuckled wisely. "I'll bet that there Prune twists Jimmy around her finger. And she'll probably be hightailing it down the road in his car by the time its dark. You gotta feel sorry about kids, they is so all-fired concerned about what's in their pants. I'm so damned thankful I'm past the age."
"But you enjoy me the way I am now: hands tied, feet tied, naked?"
"Sure I do, sugar, but that's different. It's like looking at a pretty picture or a sunset. There's a word that I read once. It's 'Elemental'. It don't have nothing to do with cunts and cocks and all that foolishness which just makes a lot of laundry. You want them hands untied?"
"That would be nice. Ma. They've been hurting for quite a while."
"Well, they can hurt a bit longer, sugar. I like you the way you are and that's the way they'll stay. Am I being mean?"
"Of course not, you explained it in what you just said. I'm a slave and a a slave expects such things. I'm grateful you don't whip me all the time the way Hattie Simpson would."
"You're a gal in a thousand, Avon. And I'm all-fired grateful to that there Ginevera for getting you for me." Ma's tone became wistful. "I sure would admire to take a trip to that castle you told me about, that place where Ginevera is now, and see with my own eyes them twenty naked girls, all handcuffed and getting theirselves whipped once every couple of weeks. It just don't see possible."
"It's terribly real, Ma, and, if you wanted to take me over for a trip, you'd get a royal welcome. There'd be a girl being whipped every day you were there. And I expect Lady Alyth would let you do the whipping at least once. Maybe more. I think you'd love those twenty girl who sleep naked and handcuffed and with one ankle chained to the floor. Can you afford the trip, it's expensive?"
"Sure I could afford it. But I'm damned sure there ain't no airline gonna let me get on a plane along with you and them chained feet of yours. Don't suppose I could even tie your hands. And it's for damned sure I ain't making no trip alone."
"I'd give you my promise, my parole, not to escape. I'd keep my word."
"It's a damned nice idea. I'll think on it but I got a feeling I'm too damned old. I'd be a fish out of water along side that there Lady Alyth you told me about." She thought for a while. "I'll be damned if all this talk about whipping pretty bottoms and chaining up pretty girls ain't put me in the mood, sugar. Would you hate me real bad if I whipped you when we got back home?"
I groaned inwardly. Everything always got back to square one, the infliction of pain upon a girl's bare skin. I longed to tell this Ma how much I would hate the idea or the act itself of having my skin once more stripped in scarlet. But my ever present guilt prodded me into memories of my grandmother and Lady Alyth, and of Ginevera. Grandma would wish me to suffer the pain of penitence. While Lady Alyth and Ginevera would expect me to live up to the standards of a slavegirl. After all, I had in the first place volunteered my body for the whip, the chain and the cord at a time when I was most ardently concerned with Grandma's conviction I needed these punishments. Once more I consoled myself with the thought that the six months were steady passing by. At the end of them I would be once more free. Cheerfully, I contrived to lie. "Yes, Ma, if you want to whip me, I won't mind. I'm surprised you haven't whipped me before this. You're really terribly kind."
It was utterly absurd. No girl wants to be whipped. I will admit the first few strokes can often start a fire within a girl's loins, but none of us want twenty or thirty strokes during which we scream and make a ridiculous spectacle of ourselves. But there was no way I could tell Ma this because her hand had found mine to squeeze it in communion far more potent than any word could be. I squeezed back hard and hoped she would not lash me with more than twenty strokes.
We made a big thing out of it. On arrival back home, Ma took me to the barn where there were upright stanchions supporting the roof, and to one of these she tied my wrists at the level of my eyes so I might see each loop as it was drawn tight to compel my standing where I was no matter what the pain or how great my fear. She took her time and made a very neat job with one of my wrists on each side to leave me enough freedom of movement to bounce up and down but not too far to either side. It was a most practical tie for the purpose intended. And when the final knots had been tugged tight I was told to stand a while and give serious thought to what was about to happen. Ma put it into simple words, "I'm gonna whip your ass, sugar, and maybe I'm gonna whip your back. What I want is for you to stand a while and think how it's gonna hurt, and wonder if you ain't done something to make you deserve what you're gonna get." She was breathing heavily as she continued. "I want you to do this real bad, and then, before I starts in on you, to tell me what you've dreamed up. I don't care how innocent it seems, I want to hear about it 'cause that way I'll know I'm whipping you for something. Sugar, do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand, Ma. I'll do my best."
I watched my owner leave the barn, then tried to free myself as a sort of obligation to the true me who wanted nothing more than to escape. When I confirmed my bitter helplessness, I turned my mind to concocting a simple sin to enhance the pleasure Ma Bristol would feel in whipping those portions of me she found most potent. By the time she returned I had my story ready. With a rueful smile at Ma Bristol's anxious face, I went down the list.
"I'm always wanting to escape, Ma. I'm sorry but there it is. I wish you would take me back to Trinity where you could whip some other girls instead of me. I've got a knife hidden in the kitchen to cut the ropes when I might have the chance."
I had made a long list that went on and on until, looking back over a bare shoulder, I saw Ma was panting over the stress of emotions I had fed too long. To make a complete job of my sins, I added, "Please, Ma, you must punishment me now. Please whip me."
I got whipped for sure. What else is new!
by the time I had finished the accounting of my sins, my owner was so worked up and choking with the need to mark my skin that I couldn't have stopped her if I could. I thrust my face hard down upon my arm and tried to think of grandmother as the heavy strap bit at me resoundingly. By the time the twenty strokes were half way through, I was sweating and hurting. When my owner paused to inquire how I was doing, I said yes, I could, and would she please lay on the strap harder. Crazy, crazy, crazy!
Ma Bristol and I had the gift of rationalizing everything. Over dinner we spoke of trivial things as if nothing had happened. I knew a strange comfort in knowing I could not run because of the chain around my ankles. I guess the comfort came with the knowledge that regardless of feelings of guilt and punishment, that chain would always keep me safe and from making the wrong decision. I was a slavegirl and that was the end of it.
We were finishing the dishes when Ma heard the sound. She stiffened like a pointing dog and then jump through the door for parts unknown. I didn't follow-my tiny steps would not have gotten me very far. I went to the window and stared in amazement at what I saw, the reenactment of a previous scene with Ma Bristol vigorously holding a girl's hair and shaking its owner's head back and forth. The owner was as naked as I and her name was Prune.
She was marched back into the house with arms waving in protest.
"Stop your yapping and stand still. Cross them wrists behind your back and then we'll be having a nice chat. Avon, put the coffee pot back on."
A firm grip on her hair had subdued our prisoner to a point of resignation where she simply did as she was told. The cords went tight on. With a smile both pleased and amused, Ma got another length of chain and two more padlocks so that within a minute Prune's steps were as hindered as mine. Prune didn't seem too happy about freedom disappearing down the road.
Ma sat her in a kitchen chair, and that was that. Prune was told to come out with her story and make it snappy, an order she was only too anxious to obey.
"I come back here to get my car," she explained defensively. "If you hadn't taken the key, I'd be long gone. You shouldn't have pulled my hair. I've had the most bloody awful time." She paused to wiggled against tied hands and to kick in disbelief at a chained ankle. "There ain't no need to fix me like this," she complained. "I ain't no wild animal. And if you'll protect me from those assholes there ain't nowhere I want to run." She looked up at us hopefully.
"You're safe with me. Get on with your story."
"When you made a present of me to that Hattie woman, she takes me home and shows me to her old man pretty much as she'd shot me out in the woods and they were having me for dinner. She lets the old goat take me into a bare little room where he lays my on the floor and gives me the damndest screwing I'd ever had. I thought I got screwed right royally by those boys back home but they ain't got nothing on old man Simpson. When he finished he goes back to his harness and tells his wife to take over where he leaves off. So she hauls me off to a stinking old shed and hung me up like I was an animal. She tied my legs together and hauled them up by the ceiling so I was hanging upside down! She then whips parts of me that shouldn't be whipped. Then she tied me to a pole. I spent a long time trying to get out. Then you comes in and leashes Avon to another pole. You all know what happened. I wish that were the end of it but it ain't."
"You're safe here. Get on with it."
"Well, this Jimmy Gates fellow turns out a real bummer who don't know his ass from a hole in the ground. He had me tied so tight all I could do was beef. And I could see right off he don't know whether to whip the few bits of me Hattie Simpson hadn't gotten around to or shove his dink in my what's-it. He got so damned excited over having me safe so I couldn't do nothing and having me naked which I figures he never seen before, that he goes off in his pants while we driving down the road." Prune grunted. "The kid must have been well brung up 'cause he keeps telling me how sorry he is that it happened without my help, and he was sure he could get it up again real quick. He must have thought I was real grateful for being used. It wasn't long before he finds a bit of woodland with a dirt road running off into the trees and he says this is going to be a wonderful place where he can whip me all afternoon. I told him what I thought of the whole idea but I don't think he was listening."
Prune gazed upon her audience as if wishing we could share in her travail. She gulped and continued. "It must be the climate here abouts or maybe the food you eat, but for my money you're all nuts, a bunch of kooks what thinks a piece of tail is a sort of appetizer before the main course. What I mean is them boys back home wouldn't have thought of whipping a gal unless she acted up. I never got whipped in my life until I come here. And now look at me!"
Prune stopped only long enough to give her twisting and tugging at bound wrists everything she had. She didn't mind us watching and I expect it was her way of telling us to let her go. Her feet were playing footies all the time. "That young son of a bitch was absolutely right about them trees," she continued. "Didn't matter what kind of a tree or how big or how small, that asshole figured out a way to tie me to it. And sometimes he tied me to two at once. When he tied me with my back against the trunk and my hands and arms pulled way back behind, it wasn't hard to figure what came next. It was one time I was glad my boobs ain't as nice as Avon here. But they must have been nice enough for Jimmy 'cause he bounced them up and down and sideways with a bit of strap I would love to make him eat. I yelled and yelled but there weren't anyone to hear. And I kicked out at the young shit until he tied my feet. What he did then was worse then the lousy pain. He made me say thank you for each stinking stroke he laid across my tits. Ah, shit! And his mother probably loved him."
I have to suppose Prune was getting a kick out of telling us her troubles. "When the young asshole figured he'd whipped my front enough, he untied me and tried his luck lower down. He must have been saving it up all his life, just waiting for me. This time he managed to stay a while before screaming into my face like my pussy was a steel trap. Boy, he was getting such a charge out of having his first go, I would have gotten a kick out it myself if I hadn't been so busy looking around and figuring how to knock him on the head. Not that he gave me no chance, 'cause every time he wasn't doing things to me he tied my hands the way you got them tied right now. Shit, if I ever get my hands free I'll never come west again."
I felt sorry for the girl. It's one thing for a girl to get herself whipped when she understands the reasons. But Prune obviously knew nothing of the how or why. I don't suppose she ever heard of human psychology and its perverse little turns. I could see how her adventures out west were a shock. She was now wound up enough to continue.
"The young bastard's car was filled with rope and sometimes I got it all. But after I landed a few kicks on him and while I was laying down, he lays me on my tied hands between a couple of small trees and tells me he got an idea I'm really gonna love. First I get one ankle tied up to one tree and then the other ankle to the other tree. Shit, my legs were way up in a big V and spread wide. He pulled the trees down before tying my ankles to them and they tried to bend back, you know what I mean? It felt like they was trying to split me in two! Hell, my ass was off the grass and I figured my slit was wide open for him to see. But when I sort of got adjusted to laying on my tied arms I could look up and see that the lips weren't even apart, and I gotta tell you right now it beats all what a girl's cunt can take without tearing apart."
Ma held a cup of coffee to Prune's lips, cradling the captive head within a massive arm. Prune drank eagerly. "Well, anyway, you can easy figure the jackpot I was in," she continued. "If Jimmy Gates had been wanting to look at what a girl's sex looks like, he sure had a chance. I couldn't do a thing except look up at his silly face as he stared then got the courage to cop a feel. Then he pulled the lips apart and look inside as though he'd just opened a Christmas present. He seemed surprised there wasn't more room and started using his finger like he was drilling for oil.
I'll bet he had me fixed like that a good half hour by which time I guess he memorized what a girl's sex looked like. Then he began probed my pussy with the tool that was meant for that purpose. It was an odd angle but he managed."
Prune sighed. "After that piece of sex he ties me standing but with my arms pulled up behind my back, way up so I had to lean way forward. Then he spreads my legs and ties my ankles to trees so's my legs are wide open. Didn't do my arms or shoulders much good. I figured maybe he was gonna leave he hang there for a while or maybe even get the whip again, certainly not screw me again so soon. But when he saw what I looked like tied like that, up springs that damn prick of his and he brings that damned thing around to the back of me."
We gave Prune more coffee. I don't think either Ma or me were much interested in Jimmy Gates's sexual prowess, or maybe I should call it ineptitude. "The silly asshole must have been reading a book. He wasn't a bit sure which hole he was aiming for. Although the way he had me fixed he could have driven a car up either. I didn't aim to give him a scrape of help. But it was right about then, seeing me the way I was, he looses interest in what he was going to do and decided to whip my ass.
"There was lots of things he could have used to whip my ass, he had a car full of junk. But I'll be damned if he doesn't go and cut a willow switch and peels it. I started to promise everything in the book until I realized the young bastard had it all anyway. I guess you both know what it's like when a girl gets her ass whipped? And I was sure bent over to get it good. And what's more, it was on top of what Hattie Simpson gave me already. After he swished at me a while, I felt so miserable and damned hopeless I start crying like a baby. That's something I ain't done for quite a while. And that worked out real good, 'cause he wiped my tears with his shirttail and untied everything except my hands. But then he remembers he's got this thing sticking up in front so he has me lay down and Jimmy plows away at me almost as good as old man Simpson." Prune stopped and sighed. "This is all pretty much the same, ain't it? You want I should go on?"
We said, no, we'd heard enough, but how did she manage to get loose and run to where she had her car?
"He just plain got tuckered out but was trying all sorts of new ideas. Some of them meant there would be a few moments when my hands would be untied. I simply grabbed an old branch and hit him on the head. I took his car and drove here. You saw it sitting out there beside mine." As though she had talked her way to freedom, she look up at us with pleading in her eyes. "Please untie me and let me go."
Discretely I kept a slavegirl silence. I knew my place. And what Ma Bristol might have said was lost by the sound of another car. It wasn't too hard to guess who, but when Jimmy Gates came in the front door, he fell instantly beneath Ma Bristol's spell and was as polite and shy as on that first occasion. However, since Prune was the real centerpiece, she could scarcely be ignored. Jimmy said his howdy-do's to Ma and me, and turned his attention to the tied girl in the chair. But Prune beat him to the punch.
"Get out of here, asshole! Don't you know when you're not wanted. Fuck off!"
Jimmy was not bothered. Association with Prune had done a lot to cure his shyness. He looked to Ma. "Thank you for catching her, Mrs. Bristol. If you don't mind, I'll take her back where she belongs."
"I thought I knocked you out. How'd you get here this quick, you creep!" Prune glared.
"She did knock me out, Mrs. Bristol. She's dangerous. If I hadn't staggered out to the road and caught myself a ride, I'd still be out in them words. I aim to punish her real good when I get her back where she belongs." Jimmy was showing every sign of becoming addicted to whipping a girl's bottom. I felt sorry for any girl who attracted his attention. I felt sorry for Prune. But it was Ma Bristol who made the rules.
"You ain't taking that gal no place, Jimmy Gates," Ma said. "Seems to me you punished her enough already. You and Hattie Simpson ain't to be trusted. Damned it, a gal's only got so much skin. You've used all she's got. Ain't you ashamed."
"But Mrs. Simpson said you gave her to me. Didn't you say I was underprivileged or something?"
"Jimmy, this gal's had all she can take. Best I put her in her car tomorrow and send her on her way. The law ain't a bit happy about beating girls up, especially when they die. The two of you would kill Prune inside a week."
Jimmy gulped. He was on dangerous ground. As usual, his eyes fastened on me and the fresh whip marks Ma had placed up me that day. He became argumentative. "How come, then, the cops don't do something about this gal you keep chained all for yourself. Looks to me she's just been whipped, so you ain't got no call to stop me beating Prune."
Ma sighed. Jimmy Gates was young. Her gaze was maternal, as was her voice. "Look, Jimmy, you've had yourself a time. You've made a dream come true and this is a hell of a lot more than other men do. Why don't you let it go, there'll be other girls."
"They won't let me whip them. I've already asked."
Ma sighed again. Her youthful visitor had a long way to go. "Look, Jimmy," she said patiently, "you don't just walk up to a girl and say, 'Can I whip your ass?', or tell her it's your birthday tomorrow and could you lay a strap across her tits to cerebrate. Gals ain't unreasonable. And if you work at it, you'll find lots of way to get them to take their clothes off. Get yourself a nice girl and have her tell you a few things. You'd be surprised how many you'd find who like a few slaps with a strap."
"I don't want to kiss no asses. What I want is a gal who has to obey whether she wants to or not. Either one of these two right here would suit me fine. Although, I'd sooner have the one you call Avon."
Ma looked at me mischievously. "Get your handcuffs, sugar, you're almost naked."
I did as I was told. I kneeled before the woman who owned me and held out the shinning steel, and implored, "Please lock these upon my wrists, Mistress, without them I'm not decent." Poor Jimmy, he was now far out of his depths. He watched my wrists encircled. It was easy to tell that for him it was a whole new world. And when I was back on my feet and having a girl's usual trouble as to what to do with joined hands, he voiced complaint.
"Avon does that real beautiful, Mrs. Bristol. But this gal you gave me, all she wants to do is run away. Ain't no way she'd offer me a pair of handcuffs. You got another pair I could buy?"
"Sure I got another pair but I ain't parting with them. Who was you aiming to use them on, anyway?"
"Maybe on Avon? I was hoping, Ma, that you'd lend her to me a little spell."
"Don't be silly," Ma disposed of the plaintive request with a wave of her angry hand. "Avon can't give you anything that Prune can't give you also. And look what you done to her. I ain't lending you no girl, no way."
Jimmy gulped, his mind hard at word. "Suppose you watch me and Avon, Ma. You would be there to make sure I don't do no damage to her. I may never get a chance like this again. It wouldn't hurt you to let me use her just a little bit"
"Use her!"
Jimmy shuffled his feet and deepened his blush. "I was thinking maybe we can copulate first. That's what they call it in the doctor's books. And then I could whip her maybe just twenty or thirty strokes, anyplace you say." He paused to look me up an down. "She's got quite a lot of places, Ma."
I could have laughed. Jimmy was pathetic, but also heartbreakingly sad, a product of a society far from reality. I could understand him reaching out to grasp this opportunity to touch a girl who would not tell him she was pregnant on the first day. Left to the customs of his tribe, Jimmy would marry a girl who would become fat after presenting him with a collection of children he could not afford. I'm not the least bit modest about me, and I haven't a doubt I represented Jimmy's ultimate longing. Perhaps, had I been free, I would have allowed him to find his Eden within my body and upon my skin. It's really shocking the things us girls do because we feel sorry for a man. I was glad I was handcuffed and my feet chained.
But even the handcuffs had riveted Jimmy's attention to bring about a visible bulge beneath his pants. I arranged my hands to cover as little as I could and that showed a little strain between the wrists, as if I was gently fighting the steel cuffs.
"Jimmy, you're out of your class," Ma told the boy, her words tinged with the same sadness I, too, had felt. "I know I'm damned lucky having Avon, but I got to look after her. And I can't go loaning her around to every man with a hard on. Jimmy, you go back home and join one of them correspondence clubs. Maybe you'll get lucky."
"He ain't gonna get lucky so long as all he wants to do with a gal is whip her ass," Prune said. "But living out here among all these kooks ain't gonna teach him nothing. If I though he wouldn't keep me tied up all the time, I'd offer to spend some time with him and teach him a few things about girls." Her voice turned bitter as she glared at a sadly baffled young man. "If I walked out of here with you, it wouldn't be more than ten minutes before you had me tied up so you could beat me whenever you felt like it and I'd have to do anything you said. You're crazy!"
"You're tied up right now," Jimmy pointed out reasonably. "If I didn't keep you tied, you'd run away same as you done a while back. If Ma Bristol didn't keep you chained, I bet you'd be miles away." Seeking to rationalize his argument, he pointed at me. "Look at Avon. Avon's feet are chained so she can't run."
"It weren't me what chained them, it was Mrs. Bristol. She knows about chaining girls. I'm just learning."
My owner looked at me and winked before turning to our two disgruntled visitors. "Best thing you two could do is go back home. Hattie Simpson ain't no better with a girl than you is, Jimmy Gates, so the best thing for you, Prune, is to hightail it back where you come from. I won't be stopping you."
"What? Naked and with no money? I won't get too far."
"Don't look like you're going any place in that chair."
"Who's fault is that? It was you who tied my hands and it was you what chained my feet. And, anyway, I ain't sure I want to go back to the Roosters. I'll bet they're waiting for me with rope and leather straps."
Ma Bristol tossed me a key. "Here, take the girl and get her dressed. Give her a hundred dollars. You know where I keep the money. This key will get the irons off her ankles but won't touch yours. Run along."
I led a highly suspicious young woman from the room. In the bedroom I untied her hands. She immediately whispered, "You come with me. I'll bet there's some way we could."
For answer I simply shrugged and unlocked the padlocks on Prune's ankles. Then I showed her that the same key would not work on mine. "Prune, I'm a prisoner, I can't run anywhere. You'd best run before Hattie comes knocking."
Prune looked better with her clothes on and was finding comfort in the small wad of money I gave her. With her clothed and me still naked, Jimmy Gates shifted his attention to me.
"Get your mind off her," Ma admonished sharply. "We're going with her to her car while you have yourself another cup of coffee. Then we'll talk about whatever you want to ... so long as it ain't whipping Avon's ass."
My companions shortened their steps to match my chain. I was so damned glad not to be left with Jimmy Gates I didn't care how it hurt to hurry. But the opposite now applied to Prune, whose steps became increasingly reluctant as we approached her car. She looked at Ma and I appealing to frankly say, "I don't want to go. I'm scared. I'm all alone. And I have no where to go to. Please let me stay with you a while?"
"Hustle your butt into that there car and get going," Ma ordered. "I'm giving you your freedom, and I'll have to put up with all the beefs I'll get from Hattie Simpson and that boy back in the kitchen. Don't you know when you've got it good?"
Ma was not a women to argue with but I felt sorry for Prune as she took the keys and got into the car. It gave me a funny feeling to know how I was desired by this girl from New York. Not to mention the young man in Ma's kitchen. And Lady Alyth. And I guess Westley, too. We kissed all around. Ma and I watched Prune and her car disappear into the night.
"Well, after that I could use another cup of coffee. Come along, sugar. take my arm."
Jimmy Gates was moodily sipping and, as I got Ma her coffee, his eyes followed my every move with a hunger I could easily feel. With a pent up emotion, he was moved to speech. "If ain't for me to complain, Mrs. Bristol, not after what you done for me, but it's real cruel to send that gal away when I was getting used to the idea of having her around. Honest, I don't know what I'm going to do."
"You can't have a girl, Jimmy. You know that, you're mother would blow a fuse."
"I would have kept Prune out in the brush where no one would ever know. So long as I kept her safely tied to a tree."
"Hattie Simpson would have your hide and you know it."
"That may be but the way it is I ain't got nothing." The young male voice became plaintive. "Look, Mrs. Bristol, it wouldn't do you no harm to let me have Avon one day a week. I promise I wouldn't be too mean."
"You ain't gonna be mean at all 'cause you ain't gonna get her." Ma was tolerant but final.
"Couldn't I visit you for an hour maybe every Sunday? To take Avon out to the barn to be whipped? Seems to me that ain't asking too much."
It was me they was talking about, so I said my piece. "Jimmy, can't you understand? I don't want to be whipped at all. I hate being whipped and I'm not going to like you any better because you want to do it."
"Ma Bristol whips you," he said solemnly.
"I belong to Ma and what she does with me is our affair. I certainly don't belong to you."
"Well, then how about that other thing ... ? You know what I mean."
"No."
We walked him to his car, probably the unhappiest young man either of us had ever seen. Jimmy had had his glimpse of paradise, the principle portion of which was now speeding into the night, while I was still held in Ma Bristol's custody. He said a glum goodnight and drove away.
That night the handcuffs were taken from my wrists, and a metal collar locked upon my neck and from it a chain locked to the wall behind our bed. Neither of us spoke a word of it but we both knew it was not to prevent escape.
I was girl flesh, much desired.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Punished Escapees
Nothing happened!
For Ginevera and the remaining girl of Trinity it was hard to sleep. Things were happening within Trinity Castle but they were powerless to discover what. Several girls wept bitterly because their chains had withstood the inadequate strength of girlish hands, and the ankle remained tethered to the floor. But Audrey Wingate, Erin and Ginevera remained dried eyed, but in a sense of foreboding over the reckless seven who had not stopped to consider the cost of an adventure that was sure to end in failure. Ginevera shivered and Erin declared unhappily, "They'll be punished, terribly punished, I know they will. If I could get this chain off my ankle I'd run straight to mother and see if I couldn't help."
The night dragged on.
In the morning it was Radcliff who unlocked their shackles but refused to inform them of anything. Breakfast was routine but-Ginevera noted the seven vacant places. The servants answered nothing. In the classroom the mystery deepened for Miss Prelate was in her usual place, behaving in her usual way. If her class was seven girls short, she appeared not to notice. At mid-morning Ginevera was summoned to Lady Alyth's office.
Once again everything was normal. Ginevera took the familiar seat across the desk, arranged her handcuffs demurely in her lap, and looked expectantly at the woman who she sensed was bubbling over with amusement.
"I expect you're curious," she finally offered. "And I ought to keep you curious if it wasn't that I'm curious myself and want to know what happened last night. I'm bound to get Erin's version but I want you're first. Spill it out, darling, don't be shy."
Ginevera told the facts, feeling them inadequate but not knowing what to add. Finally, Lady Alyth asked, "Seven girls tore their ankle chains loose? What about the rest, did they try?"
"I'm afraid so."
"What about you?"
"They tried to pull mine loose, too, even though I told them to leave it alone. Lady Alyth, I'm too involved here at Trinity to want to escape like that. Erin and Audrey and I told them they were crazy but they were too excited to listen."
"They must have had a leader. Who was it?"
"It was a girl who knew for a long time her chain wasn't secure. It was easy for her to tug it free. After that it took two or three girls to drag one loose. They couldn't get some to budge."
"The leader had a name?"
"It was Diana."
"I might have guessed. Darling, you're such a sweetheart," Lady Alyth glowed and came around her desk to kiss an apprehensive girl on the forehead. Then on the lips, another kiss which lasted so long it ended in girlish laughter.
"What's happened to them, Lady Alyth?" asked Ginevera.
"They're safe in the dungeon, dear, each one with her hands safely cuffed behind her back. I'll let them stew a while. I haven't yet made up my mind what to do with them."
"I suppose they'll be whipped?"
"Darling, whipping a girl isn't any big thing in Trinity. I suppose I could have they really flogged but I have to admit I feel sorry for them."
"You won't punishment them?"
"I didn't say that. I have to make an example of them, one way or another. But they surprised me, getting free the way they did. I'm been thinking all along they were more content."
"Are they?"
"They're content so long as they know there's nothing they can do about their imprisonment. But dangle an opportunity to escape and they lose all judgment."
Ginevera wiggled in embarrassment. "I was like that once. The kindest thing you can do with The Class is fasten them so securely they stop worrying about false hopes. Before Diana got her chain loose, they were happy."
"I suppose their glands have something to do with it," Lady Alyth mused. "What they need is a good dose of Westley." Facing a fact of life, Ginevera grinned her frank admission. "They miss Westley and so do I. I had him quite a while and he's habit forming. When he's not around, the girls sort of shrug it off as part of being a prisoner. I won't tell you then don't find their own relief but we'd all sooner have a man. Sorry!"
"I think I'll get in touch with the dear boy. But even if he comes back there's a bit of a problem there. I can't reward the seven with his instant attentions, and I'm not sure if he can appease thirteen sets of feminine glands in the way he looks after you're when he's around. I suppose I could persuade him to bring a friend ... but there again we've got this habit forming problem. Got any ideas?"
Ginevera wanted to laugh and did so without any inhibition. "I wouldn't bother if I were you. We'll all make out. After we've lain under a man, we're disgusted with ourselves. If Diana hadn't gotten the idea, we'd have been going on the same as usual. Please don't punish her too severely, I'm sure she thought she was doing the right thing."
Lady Alyth laughed over Ginevera's concern. "Those girls were ridiculous," she confided in simple amusement "Angela Prelate keeps her door locked at night so they couldn't get at her. And then roamed up and down the corridors and hallways, looking for a door that wasn't locked or a window they could crawl out of. By that time. Trinity was alert and Benson and the two guards had no trouble in rounding up those silly girls and putting them were they are right now. Would you like to visit?"
"Not really. I hate that dungeon and they'd all be suspicious."
"Well, darling, I'm going to put you in there with your hands prettily cuffed behind your back the same as all the rest of them. You can tell them whatever story you want. But what I need is an accurate reading of their state of mind. I really do love my girls and I want to be quite sure I'm handling this to the best possible advantage, not just to those seven but to the rest as well. Maybe even to you and Audrey. I'm not concerned with Erin, she's completely happy."
"Lady Alyth, I really don't want that dungeon, please don't put me in mere with the rest."
"Don't be silly, darling, it's only for a few hours. But you may gather some ideas of an effective punishment. I don't want to be cruel, darling, but I have to make some sort of example so the rest will get the message. I'll have Radcliff get your handcuffs and pop you in. And, for heaven's sake, don't look so sad. I feel bad enough about this whole thing already."
Radcliff drew the bolts and opened the locks to the great door of the dungeon. As the door slammed behind her back, Ginevera stood bewildered before every female eye in the place. She had no hands, nor did the girls who surrounded her. "How's she going to punish us?" they demanded. "Are you a spy?"
"Does her ladyship wants more on us than she's got already?"
"Are you being punished, too?"
Ginevera thought it best to sort it out, telling her fellow prisoners what she could and shrugging away what she could not answer. Their demands were insistent.
"We'll all be whipped, won't we?"
"I'll bet we all get horsed for the longest time."
"I'll bet she puts chains on us and keeps us in this dungeon for weeks and weeks, maybe for months."
Ginevera hated her task but listened to the complaints while tugging at her hands behind her back. She wondered where her own thoughts would now be centered. And, despite her knowledge of immunity, found herself sharing the maiden anxieties of girls who knew they had transgressed too far. The mental images these girls were dreaming up for themselves were too horrible to contemplate.
"She'll hang us up by our thumbs."
"There's that horrible little cage and I'll bet we'll have to sit in it a week."
"I'll bet even if Westley comes home, she'll cut us off and he won't get to take us to bed. Oh, shit, we should have had more sense."
Diana was no different from the rest. She was now a fearful girl, anxious to please and make amends. Everyone of the seven was willing to promise anything, especially humiliations and obedience, if she would not be punished for her sin. As though in derision, Lady Alyth had instructed that their ankle shackled remained untouched, forcing each girl to drag her chain and its fastening where ever she walked. In the animation of despair, the girls walked back and forth to make a laughable clatter as speculation continued.
"She'll keep us locked in here forever, and whip us everyday."
"We'll never get out of Trinity, never in our whole lives."
"I'll bet she'll come out with something really awful like hanging us up by our thumbs or upside down by our ankles. There's no way she's going to be sympathetic."
"She'll whip our cunts and breasts. You see if she doesn't."
"Lady Alyth will be looking for a punishment to fit the crime. What we're going to get won't be anything ordinary."
It was a sad group of young women who looked on enviously as Ginevera was taken from the dungeon. Some felt certain she was an informer as, indeed, she was. Others speculated on the punishment she might even now be enduring. Unhappily, they knew Ginevera was a world apart and what happened to them would not happen to her. They would have been vastly entertained had they been able to tune in on the conversation in Lady Alyth's office.
"I never did find out the punishment the hate the most," Ginevera confessed. "Oh, Lady Alyth, it's so sad but they're all convinced of a really terrible punishment. Things like being horsed for a long, long time. Or being hung up by their thumbs. Or being locked in a tiny cage for weeks." Ginevera looked dolefully at her mistress. "Please don't leave them there wondering. Please tell them about their punishment and get it started."
"Being flogged, sitting on the horse, hanging by their thumbs. Good gosh, Ginevera, they're not very original, are them!" Lady Alyth had digested every word and was still seeking a solution. "I'll tell you what, Ginevera," she said finally. "It will do the little darlings good to sit in that dungeon and think up their own punishments. I suspect they'll dream up horrors far worse than I could. I'm fond of those girls and I have no wish to hear them scream. I'm not so ancient I can't remember what it is like to be a girl. I'll probably just give their bottoms an extra caning and let it go with that if it weren't for the need to set an example for the whole Class. I can't have this whole thing happening every day. But there is one good thing that has come out of this, all the little darlings will now know it's not that easy to escape from Trinity Castle. I wish I could have watched them wandering around with their chains tied to their tummies and realizing with every door and barred window they've got themselves into something they couldn't get out of." Lady Alyth sighed. "Ginevera, darling, just leave it with me, I'll think of something."
The Class, although diminished in size, was vocal in demanding of Ginevera all she knew. At bed time they sat on their cots, dandling a chained ankle and playing with the handcuffs on their wrists. But even though Ginevera told them everything she had to tell, they remained apprehensive as to whether they, too, were to be punished with the guilty seven. Ginevera kindly omitted mention that desire and intent carried with it much the same guilt as the act itself.
Erin was, as always, a fascinated spectator of girls older than herself and thus to be envied in their full development of breasts and growth of pubic hair. She took a delight in being similarly naked and handcuffed and with the shackle on her foot to prevent nocturnal exploration. She knew herself protected by her mother.
There was one girl among the many who most of all attracted Ginevera's attention. Audrey Wingate had obviously suffered agonies of shame and humiliation in becoming a pupil instead of a mistress. She had tried and failed in reconciling herself to being naked, and felt all pairs of eyes were upon what she had always been able to keep hidden. The fact that every girl was also nude in no way lessened this maiden modesty. Audrey was also shockingly conscious at all times in handcuffed wrists, failing to find the easy acceptance of shinning steel bracelets which the rest of the class regarded as a fact of life. She confided these traumas to Ginevera's sympathetic ear, discovering in Lady Alyth's favorite girl a maturity to match her own.
The former mistress spoke ruefully of her determination to be stoic both before and during the first of her biweekly whippings at Lady Alyth's hand. But by the time the tenth stroke her resolve crumbled. By the end of the twenty, she hung in the straps she had vigorously fought just a minute before. She was left alone for the usual hour of contemplation.
Later she confided in her friend, "What bothers me is that I would have run with them if I had had the chance. For most of the girls it was the chain on their ankle what kept them on their cot. If that chain had been torn loose, they'd be in the dungeon with the rest. But with me there's something beyond that chain." Her lovely eyes gazed into Ginevera's. "I need the money. You know the terms by which I'm here, and I dare not break the contract so long as my family still lives and needs that weekly check." Audrey smiled weakly. "I don't know what this makes me but it certainly isn't a hero."
A day passed and then another to leave the Class still wondering and Ginevera uninformed. Presumedly the seven nude girls in the dungeon were still there, bemoaning their fate. But when the girls adjourned to their dorm at the end of class on the third day, they discovered the seven missing shackles back beside the empty cots and fastened to the floor very solidly indeed. The same applied to every shackle in the dorm, every one of which had been reinforced. It sent shivers up and down their spines but also gave them reassurances that their missing companions would never be trying escape again. The following morning when they went to class, the girls were dramatically confronted by the lesson Lady Alyth wished to teach.
The scene of one of stark horror or exquisite artistry, according to the view one took. Like ever other room in Trinity Castle, the classroom had a high ceiling from which there now hung, in pitiful suspension, seven naked girls. Some one had given thought to the arrangement of the nudes to cause them to enhance rather than offend the classroom scene. An artist's eye had placed each punished girl to impose her maximum impact to the scene as a whole. Each girl was gagged, across each pair of no longer pouting lips, a wide band of silver tape proclaimed silence by which the classroom would remain undisturbed. Bandages had been generously bound around young wrists to join them for the rope by which they now were suspended with their toes well above the heads below. The bandages told a story of their own, that circulation was being cared for in a long, protracted punishment.
Anguished eyes sought those of the more fortunate companions who now took their desks beneath the stern eyes of Angela Prelate, who appeared to find nothing remarkable in a classroom decorated by hanging nude girls. She pointed ignored the lovely bodies. Sixteen young women made themselves busy at their desk and tried not to look up.
Trinity Castle was undisturbed.
That night at bedtime, seven shackles lay waiting beside seven vacant cots and the sixteen girls were forced to wonder if the delinquent seven were still suspended above empty desks. Each knew how terrible it would be as the daylight hours drifted into darkness.
The next morning the classroom was back to normal without the punished girls hanging overhead. The unpunished girls wondered and whispered until Miss Prelate called girl after girl before the class to extend her palm for the cane. The girls learned to be quiet.
The girls could only guess the suspended seven were back inside the dungeon.
The particular wing of Trinity Castle occupied by Lady Alyth's academy for kidnapped maidens had it's own great central hall, the roof of which was suspended by stone pillars, giving an effect not unlike a church. In was in this usually quiet hall that Lady Alyth saw fit to produce the second infliction upon the seven naughty girls. The Great Hall boasted only six pillars so that each stone column provided lodgment for a single girl, while the central and most massive of them all provided a place for two. The girls were tightly and cruelly bound, their backs against the stone, their hands tied well above their heads, ropes belted their middle to compress captive tummies to a great degree. Between this belt and the bound hands above, there was not a single bond to mark the lovely breasts of a girl who could not move. An unkind stricture descended from this belt to part the pussy lips and burry itself deep into soft flesh. The knees were bound, as were the slender ankles. Each girl must have been compelled to stand upon a box before her binding, and then the box removed, for each girl hung with toes barely touching the stone floor.
Once again the configuration had been contrived by an artistic eye. Lady Alyth much preferred it that way. As with the suspension of the previous day, the stone columns provided graphic backdrop for maiden anguish. It was a punishment the other sixteen girls were forced to view by being slowly paraded around their punished classmates in a procession for which the Great Hall provided ample space. One could well believe ghosts of the past were gazing upon strained breasts and stretched naked bodies. There were no gags.
It was difficult to concentrate on what Angela Prelate sought to teach. Once more palms burned and smarted from the cane, and those girls who had transgressed on more than one occasion were ordered to touch their toes to accept the rod upon bare flesh.
To insure that no lesson might be lost, the sixteen girls were paraded every hour on the hour up and down the Great Hall. It was worthy of note that while anguished lips spoke greetings, there were none who pleaded with Miss Prelate for mercy or forgiveness. Each girl was reconciled to the punishment she must bear. Not that tears were not shed, young females bodies did suffer and occasionally a girl gave vent to the pain inside. Miss Prelate's treat in class rang loudly in their ears. "You will behave yourselves and walk in an orderly procession," Angela Prelate had instructed in cold precision. "Any of you who chooses to misbehave may expect to be whipped between her legs before being fastened upon the horse for the rest of the day. That will be all."
It was more then enough. The Class went about its affairs in total obedience. Never had there been sixteen more submissive young women. Even Erin keep her girlish giggles to herself. Ginevera was compelled to be a part of each procession to the Great Hall, and sadly watched the effect of this punishment grow worse and worse as time passed. As the day passed on the heads of one girl after another bowed in fatigue and anguish, none every passing out but all showing the strain of prolonged bondage.
As with the suspended nudes in the classroom, there was a cruel beauty in the scene. Naked girls, like impaled butterflies, bound tight to their columns by the cut of cords, suffered against the ancient stone. Moans and soft crying attested to the pain within those lovely bodies.
Viewing the scene as a whole, Ginevera knew how deeply the beauty of it would appeal to the owner of Trinity. Ginevera was sure these girls would not be let down until the hours of darkness had claimed the Great Hall, and that they would spend yet another night in the cold confines of the dungeon. And tomorrow ... ?
Lady Alyth was unpredictable. At bedtime when each girl tendered her ankle to be shackled for the night, they were joined by those who had been bound against the pillars and never had rope-burned beauties been more thankful for release. Most were so exhausted and relieved that they fell instantly asleep. It was then that Ginevera noticed a significant omission. There was still one empty cot and beside it on the floor the shackle and chain for which there was no ankle.
Diana was missing.
Lady Alyth beamed across her desk at her favorite pupil. "A sensible sort of whipping once every two weeks works perfectly. It keeps my darlings in a proper frame of mind and provides me with a bottom or two every day on which to imprint the Trinity insignia. In other words, some nice red strips which will wear away in time for the girl's next appointment." Lady Alyth sighed. "There's only one disappointment about this -the dear girls do become blase about this. I don't mean that they yawn during their whipping, they make the usual sounds and emotions while it's happening. But after their usual hour of mediation they go back to class with the feeling that some one loves them enough to mark their skin. Does that make sense, darling?"
Ginevera knew it did make sense but wondered silently how many other would agree. If the Sunday Press every got wind of it the headlines would flare across England. She nestled her handcuffs and listened.
"The only bad thing about this lovely arrangement is that if you chose the whip for a girl's punishment, the application has to be severe to separate from what the girl receives every two weeks." Lady Alyth looked earnestly at her favorite slave. "That's the problem I'm up against with Diana. A really good whipping up before the entire Class would fill the bill nicely but would mean being damned unkind to a girl I don't dislike. Got any ideas?"
"She's been punished enough already. And I'll bet she's unhappy down in the dungeon. It's awful being in there all alone. And I'll bet because you've got her all alone, you'll have her heavily chained." Ginevera shivered. "Isn't that enough?"
"You know it's not enough, dear. What can I do to impress Diana that escape is not a good idea."
"She's been enduring punishment several days and she's going to get morbid if you keep it up," Ginevera said thoughtfully. "That dungeon is deadly. I should know.... Consider doing something with Diana out in the park. There's a high wall all around so she can't get out. If you turn her loose out there, all alone, and dependent upon her own resources, she's soon going to think longingly of the Class and her waiting cot. It would make me sorry for anything I'd done."
"I like it! It also gives me an idea. I've noticed that Audrey Wingate is moping. She's finding it hard to take being submissive. So why don't we turn the two of them loose out there together. And another idea immediately suggests itself. I'll have a collar locked around each of their necks and a connecting chain, say about four feet long. That won't bother them all that much unless they wish to go in opposite directions. A few days of that and we can consider honor satisfied. I can be rid of the whole affair and I'll make sure no damned anchor bolt will comes loose again."
During the ensuing days Ginevera discovered boredom and was ashamed to admit to herself she wanted Westley. But Westley didn't seem to want her, although she tried to attribute his lack of interest to Lady Alyth's insistence upon a fruitful marriage. Ginevera knew herself spoiled by the make-believe honeymoon in New York City. Westley's prowess in bed made him addictive. She thought often of their time together and condemned herself bitterly for turning a cold shoulder on something good. Even when he whipped her, Westley did it with class.
Lady Alyth was not deceived. She was deeply sensitive to the reactions of each young prisoner she owned. She often spoke of them as her children and, even though there was not enough years between them, saw Ginevera as her daughter. In the spirit of this understanding, she summoned Ginevera often to her office for afternoon tea and to share laughter over some diverting aspect of Trinity's life.
"You're bored, sweetheart," she said on this occasion. "Don't tell me you're not. I suppose you're missing Westley's rod?"
"How did you guess!"
"I know my girls, darling. I've been a real bitch about Westley, thrusting him upon you then allowing him to disappear." She laughed. "The rest of the class would like another around of his attentions, too. What is it men need to eat to aid virility? Eggs? Oysters? Do you want me to get him on the phone?"
"Goodness, no! If he can't come of his own accord, I don't want you to pull rank."
"I simply can't allow you to become bored, dear. Would you like me to whip you? It makes a pleasant diversion."
"I don't want that either." Ginevera knew she was being laughed at.
"And I don't want any of the other nice little diversions Trinity has to offer. I know I don't have anything to say about it, but please don't."
"If you were one of the other girls, I'd refuse to listen. I'd take you downstairs and whip your pretty little bottom until you said you were sorry for being such an idiot. It's the best medicine I know. Please tell me you agree."
"You make me feel grateful and humble and ashamed for at least twenty-four hours. After that I would probably be back to square one. But, if it would please you to whip me, Lady Alyth, I won't complain."
The mistress glowed in pride and pleasure. "You're a girl in a million, darling," she whispered lovingly. "I'm constantly repressing my carnal wish to whip you to bits. You're the most delicious female I know." Her ladyship twinkled mischievously. "Darling, would you like me to turn you loose?"
It took a moment to properly impact. As though Ginevera found herself confronted by a cosmic event too huge to contemplate. She slowly repeated Lady Alyth's own words, 'Turn me loose ... ?"
"That's right, dear, turn you loose, give you your freedom, return you to liberty.... Would you like that?"
"No!"
Lady Alyth said nothing and Ginevera realized the negative had escaped her lips. The handcuffs suddenly felt warm and protective on her wrists. "What would I do with freedom? Where would I go ... ? Oh, Lady Alyth, you're teasing."
"I'm offering you freedom, take it! No handcuffs, no shackle on your ankles, no whip. Darling, just think at what you could do. I'd outfit you properly and give you a monthly salary. There must have been some sort of life you enjoyed before I made you one of my girls? Or why don't you go and visit Ma Bristol and Avon? The Bristol woman intrigues me, she's worth a study. I'm sure she'll let you share Avon's captivity. And, of course, you could always track down dear Westley ... T
"My family and friends must have written me off as dead a long time ago. As as far as Ma Bristol goes, I think I've had my fill of chained ankles and that old black iron stew pots, and those neighbors lusting for my flesh." She was still trying to sort out the enormity of the gift Lady Alyth was now offering. "As for Westley, I don't know ... I wish he'd come and pick me up and carry me away. Or maybe take me downstairs and whip me as a prelude to the way he rapes a girl."
The mistress laughed at her bewildered slave, circling the desk to kiss the willing lips and hug the lovely nakedness she knew she owned beyond any ordinary possession. She wondered how her other prisoners might have met this challenge. It might be an amusing experiment to try some other time. But for now, Ginevera was occupying her full attention. Resuming her seat, she waited patiently until, lifting an amused eyebrow, she inquired, "Well?"
Minevera's answer was decisive and might have been foretold by anyone aware of the union between the mistress and her slave. "take me downstairs-you've been right about that all the time. It's what I need. Whip me hard."
They rarely spoke on these occasions, it was as though the two women were governed by a single mind. The lovely bracelets departed and the limp wrists were encircled with familiar straps to compel the naked girl into the most terrible exposure a female can ever know. The first cut of the leather thong confirmed Ginevera's plea. Lady Alyth was going to whip her very hard indeed. Ginevera moaned but neither in ecstasy or pain but in a language only she and Lady Alyth understood.
It was in the sweat-drenched and scolded aftermath in which the whipped girl stood alone for the hour, still panting, still twisting at strapped wrists, while searching for decisions when decision itself was torn from her grasp by another of those unexpected visitation by which her life was changed. Startled by an intrusive sound, Ginevera raised her bound head to find herself confronted by the amused regard of a man she had supposed far away.
"Westley! Oh, Westley!" Her voice betrayed her joy. "I didn't know .... We hadn't expected.... Ohhhhh.... Westley, darling!"
It was immensely satisfying to be hugged and kissed and to feel firm male fingers explore her freshly punished back. Words were spoken which were no more than the mating sounds of a male and female too long apart.
"Westley, I can't hug you the way I'm fixed. Please unstrap my wrists."
"I like them as they are, sweetheart. They'll stay a while and so will you while I take an inventory. Gosh, that sweat of yours smells yummy."
In a way it was good not to have hands which might interfere. She was swept by gorgeous sensations of possession as Westley's knowing hands cuffed scented breasts and kneaded them and her sex. She spread her legs as wide as she could to allow access to his palm. For the man and girl thus engaged time stood still and it was not until Westley was satisfied with this prelude to better things to come that he stood back to fondly regard the helpless nudity he knew was his for the taking.
"Didn't I find you in this same state when I dropped in once before?' he inquired cheerfully. "What did you do this time to get yourself in another fix like this?"
"I'm not sure I know but your aunt thought it a good idea so here I am. Westley, please be a darling and get me loose."
"Seems to me that other time I gave you a second whipping on top of your first. The effect was beneficial, as I recall."
"Don't you dare! I don't want to be whipped again, I've had enough."
"Perhaps just once over lightly?"
"No! Oh, Westley, it's so good to have you back. Please stop teasing and give me my hands back."
"Don't be impatient, I really do want to whip you. It makes me so wonderfully horny. And since you'll be the beneficiary, I thought you'd be grateful?"
"Well ... yes. But you're horny enough right now. Don't think I can't tell. And you've got me so excited I can hardly wait. There's no need to whip me again. And Lady Alyth whipped me so hard, I've had all I want, thank you."
Westley shrugged and did a slow circle tour of his helpless love, examining Ginevera's wealed back and caned bottom with an expert eye. "Auntie certainly did a good job on you," he agreed. "Maybe for the time being we'll let the matter rest. By the way, I hope Auntie's kept you on the pill."
"Yes, she has. I expect she thought you might show up unexpectedly. Are you going to do it to me standing up?"
"Much as I hate to do this, I suppose...." Swiftly he freed the captive wrists and laid their owner on the floor. "We can use the bedroom another time," he said in a preoccupied manner as he removed his clothes. "Get ready for the rape of a lifetime. Spread those legs."
The nice thing about Westley Wallace was that nothing mattered. Bathed in the sunshine of content, Ginevera simply relaxed and let Westley run the show. If Westley really did want to whip her again, she decided not to complain.
Lady Alyth was delighted, instantly aware of Ginevera's glow and laughing at the handcuffs against locked upon her wrists. "You've really got this girl in a dither," she reproved. "She's been pinning for you, or at least that thing you keep inside your pants. Westley, why on earth do you keep disappearing the way you do?"
"The male ego, dear lady." Westley refused to be serious about anything. "The poor old male ego needs constant nourishment, and if I let you support me constantly it starts to starve. So I go out and do battle with the infidel and make some money. There's nothing like some good old cash for polishing a chap's ego."
He paused with one eyebrow raised. "Do you still want Ginevera and I to tie the knot?"
"Of course. Where would you suggest for our honeymoon?"
"Well, not New York City. Have you told the poor girl of that terrible gift you brought for her enjoyment?"
"Sorry, quite forgot. It will wait until after dinner."
"I'm sure it will." Lady Alyth brushed the gift aside to return to her favorite subject. "It would be a good idea for you to tell us how you view marriage, Westley, dear boy. Where do you intend to keep your darling bride, an Italian villa? A wing in Trinity? I do hope you're not contemplating a cage or keeping her tied to a tree."
"Well, I did have something like that in mind." Westley stared in his aunt. "What else would a man do with a wife when he's away on business?"
"You could try staying at home with the dear girl and amusing yourself with her."
"It's a nice idea but don't you realize that takes us back to square one. Amusing myself with beloved Ginevera means popping her in and out of a cage, tying her to a tree or anything else that's handy, and whipping her bottom. Isn't that the normal way of married life?"
"You know it isn't Westley, be serious. I'm surprised Ginevera even likes you." She turned a stern eye upon a blushing young woman. 'Tell this idiot you want a lovely modem kitchen with a baby in a crib upstairs and the washing machine busy with a load of diapers. Don't say that isn't want you want"
Ginevera raised her handcuffs and made them clink. "This is what Westley wants for me," she said demurely. "And that's what I want, too."
"You're both crazy. But if that's the way of it I'd best call in a builder and have him make over some of Trinity's unused space. Would you like a dungeon of your own for Ginevera?"
"I think yours would do nicely," said Ginevera.
"We'll have our own private dungeon," said Westley firmly.
"And a little cell and a punishment room...?"
"Of course, what else! The dear girl may not get in them too often but it will keep her in the right frame of mind to know they're there."
"And you call that a normal married life?"
"Absolutely. It's the rest of the world that's out of line."
"I was asking Ginevera."
"Sure it sounds crazy," Ginevera confessed, "but what Westley is talking about is only making real something most couples want but tuck away in the back of their minds because they either don't have enough money or are scared the people next door would call the police. We're terribly, terribly lucky."
"You call the being handcuffed the way you are normal?"
"If Westley wants me handcuffed, yes." Ginevera laughed. "If we lived in suburbia and he wanted a special color for my panties then no one would mind. What's the difference?"
Lady, Alyth was well content, congratulating herself on having built better than she knew. Ginevera was close to perfection and made an admirable foil for Westley's erotisms. She kept to herself the image of a young wife changing a baby's diapers while her wrists were firmly handcuffed. Of course, Westley would probably employ a youthful nanny to perform such tasks, but would probably lock handcuffs on her as well. The whole affair promised to be diverting ... if it every happened.
"Will you show her my present or shall I?" Westley asked offhandedly.
"Why not let Ginevera find it for herself. If she wanders around long enough down there she'll find it."
Ginevera looked from one to the other of the smiling faces and was easily aware of something untoward. Quite probably a new kind of cage for Westley to lock her in or some restrictive device. But since it was something she could discover for herself, she shrugged and made her way to the grim stone stairs.
Westley's gift was not difficult to find. It had been placed in the smallest of cells, a youthful, girlish shape in blue jeans, seated on the hard bench of bitter memory, its head buried in its hands in quite mediation. She looked up in surprise as Ginevera came into the room. Instantly she stood and came to the bars through which Ginevera was staring at a girl she had never expected to see again.
It was Prune.
The voice of New York was more friendly that its words. "Hi, ya, cunt! They said you'd be coming. Can you get me out of this cage?" Prune paused then added, "Bet you never expected to see me again?"
"That's right, I didn't. How on earth did you get inside that cell?"
"It's a long story."
"I'd best hear it anyway. But welcome to Trinity. Here, let's shake hands."
"Holly cow, you're handcuffed!" Prune was in shock. "Any you ain't got no clothes on, neither."
"It's the custom here, think nothing of it."
Hands reaching through the bars found a feminine communion. Prune's grip said she was a frightened girl in need of help. But, as always, her tone held a defensive hostility. "Get me out of here before I tell you about how I got here in the first place. Ain't ya got no key?"
Ginevera laughed and, lifting joined hands above her head, did a slow circle. "Of course I don't have a key! Where on earth would I keep it? I can't even get these handcuffs off my wrists."
Prune snickered. "I can think of a place. But, if you ain't gonna let me loose, I suppose I can tell it through these here bars. This ain't the first time I been in a cage. You sure you interested?"
"Of course I am. Hurry up and tell me."
Prune snorted. "Well, once they let me free from that funny farm, I didn't have no place to go 'cept those two guys and the Rooster bunch where I come from. A gal like me don't ever have no friends so that's where I went. And the first thing those Rooster guys did was strip me bare and hang me up by my wrists and beat me half to bits with a coat hanger. About the time I knew they was gonna kill me they let me down and spread me out on that damned bed. And tied my hands out so they could easy take what I'd given them anyway. Those bastards don't value a piece of tail and as they wants a gal fixed so she has to take it. They're a bunch of real assholes." Prune swallowed hard and demanded, "How long I gotta stay behind these here bars?"
"I don't know, really I don't. I've been locked in there a lot myself so I know what it's like. But please tell me the rest."
"Well them Roosters give me a real bad time. And they put the cost of my cunt down to where the boys upstairs could afford to visit. So I got them, too. There was one of them I'd been sort of friendly with and one day, when the rest of them were all away someplace, he let me loose and give me some money. Let me tell you it felt damned good to walk around again. I got some clothes and hightailed it out of there as quick as I knew how. The Roosters had sold my car but since it was stolen in the first place didn't much matter. I got on a downtown bus and by the end of the ride I was the loneliest and most scared little trick in the city. And there ain't but one thing a gal in that spot has to do. I hadn't never seriously peddled my ass but I had to do it. So there I was standing on the street corner when along comes this guy and I weren't never so pleased to see anyone in my life."
"What guy?"
"The one you call Westley, the one who came to get you on the farm.
Directly I caught sight of him right away I knew just what I had to do. I stopped him and when he recognizes me, we goes to a coffee shop where he buys me breakfast and treats me like I amounted to something." Prune sighed. "He was so damned polite and so kind and he even smelt good so I blurted it out over the first cup of coffee and asked it he'd bring me to that castle place I'd heard about and let me join the rest of the girls and get myself educated."
"But the girls are prisoners ... like me. None of us can come and go like a student in a school."
"Shit, I knowed that! But it didn't bother me none 'cause if them girls is the same kind of folks as that Westley what bought me coffee, that's were I wanted to be." Prune suddenly became a small child. "You see, I ain't never had nothing. If it wasn't for what I got between my legs I'd have starved. And this Westley fellow, the way he talked and spoke of money as if it didn't matter, was from a world I ain't never been but where I knew I wanted to go more than anything else in the world. He listened to everything I poured out. In the end he brung me back here when he come. These here bars make me wonder if I done the right thing."
Ginevera eyed the prisoner behind the bars in a new light. As she told her story Prune had become more human and faintly likable. Prune seemed out of place in Trinity but The Class and Angela Prelate might easily change her.
"Well, if that's what you really want, I expect Lady Alyth will allow you to stay," Ginevera told her doubtfully. "Maybe for you being a prisoner won't matter...."
"Of course it won't matter, darlings." Lady Alyth had come up behind me as we had talked. She smiled at my obvious confusion. "We put this girl in the cell while we got you straightened out upstairs. She's got a tremendous potential for improvement"
"Never mind all that shit! You gonna get me out of here?" Prune inquired. "This place gives me the shivers. Like that time they sent me up for six months just because I picked up a few things in a department store. I ain't liked iron bars since."
"And yet you want to be a prisoner?"
"Sure I do, but didn't figure on no cell." Prune's tone became pathetic. "It gets awful lonely in a cell."
"The first step towards getting out of there, dear, is to take off all your clothes and shoes and hand them to me through the bars."
From Prune's manner it was obvious she had expected the demand. Solemnly she kicked off her shoes and began stripping down. Being naked before others had been a fact of life for her for a long time. "I betya I know what comes next," she said as the parted with the clothes. "That's right, dear, let me have your hands."
Ginevera watched entranced, sensing an unusual intensity of feeling in the girl who now thrust both hands between two bars to watch them joined by the handcuffs Lady Alyth had thoughtfully brought with here.
"It ain't the first time I been handcuffed," Prune admitted. "But it ain't never been like this. I figure you folks here must get a charge out of seeing these things on a gal's wrists. What happens now?"
"You get whipped, dear."
"What!" Prune was obviously upset. "That the sort of thing them Roosters do to a gal." She paused in embarrassment. "Although I gotta admit that nice Westley fellow could say something about it. Do you really gotta?"
"I'm afraid so, dear. Every girl at Trinity gets whipped once every two weeks. It's the rule."
"Looks like Ginevera got hers today. Them marks on her skin is real fresh. Look, ain't there something else you can do to me? I ain't all that fussy about being whipped...."
"Rules are rules, Prune. I can't make an exception on your account. It would be nice for you to get if over with right away, don't you think?"
Prune had been playing with her handcuffs as if in disbelief. Perhaps she was considering the price of being a prisoner of a better class of people. "Don't I have nothin' to say about this whippin' business?" she asked meekly.
"Nothing. But if you wish, we'll let you put your clothes back on and return you to New York. But, remember, you won't get that chance again."
"Oh, hell, like a stuck pig I will. No way I can take a whippin' and not make no fuse."
"We can gag you, dear, if that's what you wish."
"You sure talk pretty for a woman who's about to mark up my ass.... All these 'dears.' "
"Simply a civilized approach, Prune. You'll lean to speak properly while you're here. Isn't that one of the reasons you're here?"
"I suppose so."
"I should warn you, Prune, that the teacher who governs the class you'll be a member of is strict and severely punishes vulgarity. Do you still wish to attend?"
"Hell, yes. But if she's real mean you'd better fix me so I can't run.
And so I can't punch out her lights." Lady Alyth smiled in agreement and Prune shook her head. "This has to be the nuttiest thing I ever tired. Led me to where I get my ass whipped and let's get it over with."
"I just know you're going to love it here," said Lady Alyth most cheerfully.
CHAPTER EIGHT - Avon
I was ridiculously content to be Ma Bristol's captive girl. Each twenty-four hours was one more day off my sentence, which was getting nicely whittled down without the expected pains of punishment. Ma kept control of me by the chain between my ankles but that was all. Except for the nightly precaution I secretly considered unnecessary. But the collar and chain upon my neck didn't bother me all that much so I wore it in the spirit Ma intended it. Sometimes I wondered how Lady Alyth would repossess me when the time was up. But that was a bridge I would have to wait to cross. For a girl who was a prisoner it was pleasant time.
I should have evaluated the compulsions of lust as did my owner. I was well aware that out and around there was two separate entities, each desiring my body in their own way. And who would make me ten times as much a prisoner as Ma Bristol's gentle restraints. I was pulling weeds in the vegetable garden when it happened. Pulling weeds is an absorbing task and I didn't hear Jimmy Gates approach until it was too late to run. I straightened up in helpless dismay and could only hope his visit was purely social. I knew this was unlikely but a girl with chained feet has to cling to whatever hope there is. Trying to suitably compose my features, I said a polite, "Hello, Jimmy, were you looking for Ma?"
He didn't answer at first because he was too busy making his usual inventory of my body parts, all of which seemed to fascinate him. When he spoke he didn't bother to drag his eyes away from my nakedness. "I seen Ma out in the fields. That's why I figured it a good time to pick you up. Will you walk with me to my car or would you sooner be carried?"
In pure panic I turned to run but Ma's chain tripped me up at the first step to send me sprawling among the carrots. Then Jimmy was on top of me, pinning me down, gathering my arms behind my back and tying them brutally together without concern. Next he tied my elbows and with his last knot I knew I'd had the course. There is a moment when a girl realizes a man is twice as strong as she and can do as he pleases despite her struggles. It never occurred to me to scream, there was no one to hear. I was picked up and carried like a child.
"You rotten son of a bitch, Ma will kill you for this!" I could not hold in my feelings on this fresh kidnapping. "Look, let me go now and Ma doesn't have to know. There's still time. You can easy untie me and let me go on with my weeding. You rotten young bastard, don't you realize you can go to jail for this?"
It did no good. Jimmy had things cleverly figured out and me conveniently under control. There were tears of fright and frustration in my eyes as he dumped me in the trunk and slammed the lid. It was dark and hot and smelly in the trunk and my arms hurt. By the time we got to where we were going I was a suitably submissive young woman.
"Don't see why you're making all this fuss," Jimmy said. "You ought to know by now I ain't gonna do nothin' bad apart from some good screwing. And a little whipping of your ass. You're the first girl I've ever had and I don't see why you have to spoil my fun by being so snooty and pretending you don't like it. I know you like it so don't try and kid me."
"Let me go! Oh, please let me go!"
"See what I mean? You ain't fooling me." He dumped me on a pile of straw to look at me earnestly. "If you'd just let yourself go, natural like, and try and like me, we could have such marvelous times. I'd have to keep you tied up some because I can't trust you but that don't mean we can't have a ball."
"Jimmy, you're heading for trouble. Ma will kill you and Hattie Simpson won't be far behind. Please don't let Hattie get hold of me, she's so mean."
"Well, then, if I keep you safe from Hattie, why can't you be nice to me?"
So long as we were talking I wasn't hurting. And I was beginning to wonder if I couldn't get the best of Jimmy Gates by sweet talk and loving hands. But I didn't have my hands and, even if the sweet talk worked, I still wouldn't be able to run away because of Ma Bristol's chain upon my ankles. I was so frustrated that I wanted to scream but instead tried the most important thing to me right then. "Jimmy, please untie my elbows. They're hurting like crazy and there's no need to have them tied tight together when my wrists are bound anyway. Please?"
Jimmy had hardly listened. His eyes were still busy with my frontal offerings. "Beef, beef, beef, that's all you do," he complained. "You look real pretty the way I got you tied right now so you can stay that way. And shut up about it hurting, it's suppose to hurt."
Having her elbows tied tight behind her back is awful for any girl and Jimmy had really gone overboard in tugging his cords deep into my skin. I tried another approach. "Well, okay, you've got me. I can't get loose and I can't run away so I might as well make the best of the situation. Get me untied and we'll have the roll in the hay you want so bad. This pile of straw you've dumped me on should do us fine."
"You mean you'll...." Jimmy was suspicious.
"Yes, really. You're young and you're vigorous, and when you get inside me I really know you're there."
'Huh? That ain't the way I want it. I want you laying on your bound arms 'cause that raises up your ass up off the floor which makes it real good. That's the way you're gonna get it."
"Okay, we'll do it that way. But how about playing it the way I want the second time? I'll make it real nice for you, Jimmy, I promise."
Jimmy was suspicious but his erection wanted me at any price. He proceeded to do a most competent job on me with my arms deep in the straw and my bottom at the height he desired. I felt as whore in the way I acted and the things I said, but they were the oldest weapons a woman has. When Jimmy got ready for his second time around, it felt so good to have the cords peeled from my skin and get my hands back that I was sincere in my thanks. They were thanks which my hands made physical for this boy who was my master. I think Jimmy understood Ma's chain would keep me as safe for him as it had for her and he slowly relaxed as he spent himself within my sheath again and again. Finally he talked with me asking just enough questions to prove my friendly interest in the man by whom I was being raped. Ma's chain hadn't bothered me before but I hated it now and wondered what I would have to do to get it off. Of if getting it off was possible.
Jimmy could never leave well enough alone. All the years of his young life had been saved for this day and my body. Having satisfied lust, his mind now turned to an original theme.
"I'm better tie you up mow, Avon," he said as if speaking of a blanket on a cold night. "Gosh, I'm glad we got this old barn, there's so damned many ways I can tie you in here I don't know where to start."
"Jimmy! You don't have to tie me. Tying me up is just a notion in your mind. I don't want to be tied up like a turkey."
"You ain't got nothing to say about it." He voice sounded as if he were simply stating a fact of life. "If I could marry you and take you away someplace, I'd keep you tied up all day long. If only you'd think sort of kindly like, you'd see how good this could be for both of us. Right now I'm thinking about one of the posts that holds up the hay loft."
I moaned. Talking Jimmy Gates out of the idea of tying me up would always be an uphill climb. Every moment in which I enjoy my hands free was profit. So I tried a diversion. "Isn't someone going to come and find us here? And won't they raise an awful stink about what you're doing with me?"
"Nah! It ain't likely. You seen how I drove the car inside her so it ain't gonna show. And you saw how it's way off the road and behind a hill. And, anyway, it's owned by my Uncle Faucet, and he's a funny old buffer who sort of likes me. Don't get no ideas about being rescued, honey, you ain't got a hope."
Jimmy Gates was wrong, I had a hope in Ma Bristol. But before she discovered where I was there was always the hazard of Hattie Simpson and the continued attentions of this boy who was so totally enthmlled by everything I was. With admirable persistence he made a suggestion I knew to be an order. "Why don't you back up against that there post, Avon, and we'll see how good a job I can do on you." He laughed. "I'll bet you I can get it so you can't even twitch. Get on over there."
I could claw his face before he could grab my hands but I couldn't kick him where it counted. Against his strength I couldn't do much of anything so I simply shrugged and did as I was told. A girl who's feet are chained is always doing something she's told. That bit of chain and those two padlocks robbed me of power, replacing it with frustration as I took tethered towards being what Jimmy Gates referred to as "tied up." Thrusting my bare back against the post I tried to soften my captor's obsession with my most winning smile.
All of us are suppose to possess some sort of natural gift. Jimmy's must have been artistry with rope. He took care with fastening me so I couldn't move with all the seriousness of a master craftsman. First he fastened my wrists behind the post and tied them there with very tight knots. Next I got my waist belted with several strands until I yelped in protest, a sound I don't even thing Jimmy heard as he framed my breasts with ropes from above my shoulders, crisscrossing in the hollow between then going back behind to be tightened and tugged with all the strength he had. I secretly hoped he would be satisfied with this arrangement because I was pretty sure I could gain slack from it immediately he was gone. But Jimmy was too wise for that and tied his ropes where needed with thin twine to insure none of the bindings had the faintest chance to slip. When he had finished this bit of artistry, I could tell my breasts, even though themselves untouched by rope, were sticking out a mile. Jimmy had left a convenient cord dangling down in front from my cinched tummy. Almost reverently he now pulled this between my legs, making sure to insert between my pussy lips. When he had it in place to his satisfaction, he disappeared behind to heave and tug until I exclaimed, "Jimmy, don't! Jimmy, stop! Tying up a girl doesn't mean you have to hurt her."
Once again he seemed not to hear. The rope was knotted to clamp my bottom against the post and inflict a steady burn within my female private place. He then continued down with ropes between my knees but left my feet alone, thoughtfully explaining he didn't want to impair the artist quality of Ma Bristol's chain. He then backed away to admire his masterpiece, and from that moment I couldn't be sure it was his rope or me he was getting such a charge out of.
I can't move an inch, I told him disgustedly. I hope you're satisfied.
Undoubtedly he was. Not hearing a word I'd said but continuing his fascination with his own creation. I wondered just how beautiful I looked, if what he saw was really that fantastic a creation to inspire the awe in his face. Certainly my breasts were ticking straight out and the nipples erect. But while we were both wondering about my bondage there came an ancient Ozark voice.
"Figured it was you, Jimmy boy. What's ya got there?"
"It's a gal. Uncle Faucet."
Uncle Faucet had not bothered his razor much for the past few days. He wore an old straw hat and denim overalls, and effected a gangling gait which I suspected hid strength. He stood beside his nephew to enjoy the view.
"You're damned right, she's perty," he affirmed. "You brung her here to fuck?"
"That was sorta the idea, Uncle Faucet," Jimmy conceded, quite obviously wishing his relative hadn't interrupted.
"Allus figured on something like this myself, boy. Just never got around to it. Where in the hell did you get her?"
"He kidnapped me and he's holding me against my will," I cried. "Please let me loose and take me home before the police get involved and Jimmy finds himself in trouble."
"You hear what she just said, Jimmy boy?" Uncle Faucet sounded as if he didn't believe his ears. "I'll bet ya this is that gal what Ma Bristol's been keeping up at her place. I heared about it but didn't pay no mind.
Son, Ma Bristol's gonna have your hide."
"But if she don't never find where I'm keeping her?"
"That's just a matter of time, Jimmy, but I recon you got a few days. Tell you what, Jimmy boy, why don't you take yourself a walk. Go up to the house and sit yourself a spell. Get out of here and go for a ride. I want to be alone with this pretty little piece. Jus' you leave us alone for an hour or two, I ain't greedy."
"But, Uncle, she's mine, it were me what brung her."
"I ain't denying that, son. Just give mew a few hours with her and after that she's all yours and I won't be telling a soul where you got her hid."
I watched Jimmy's face darken as he realized the power of this ridiculous old farmer to shatter his idyll with me inside this barn. But there was not doubting that Uncle Faucet held all the cards. After a few verbal struggles in which he was easily defeated, Jimmy Gates walked out into the sunlight and away from the greatest treasure he had ever owned, or might ever hope to see. I felt sorry for him and even more sorry for myself.
"He's a good kid but he don't know nothing," Uncle Faucet addressed me. "Glad I dropped by all right. My, my, you sure is a lovely piece of fluff."
"Aren't you going to untie me?" I demanded. "You know, before the police come. Kidnapping can put you in prison for years and years."
"You can can that talk, gal. There ain't no sheriff nor no deputy I can't make a deal with. Hell, if I offer them a bang at you, they'd jump for it. Mind if I feel around a bit?"
I stood there against the post, the ropes biting at me like living things while providing Uncle Faucet with a full frontal exposure of all the female things men most dearly love. Fortunately I couldn't move or I would have gotten myself in trouble. As it was I had to helplessly endure his probing fingers, sometimes very carnal as he cupped my sex and breasts in hard and horny palms, and generally had himself the best of times.
"What I gotta do now is get you fixed so we can have a piece of tail," he confided. "Sort of hate to spoil Jimmy's work 'cause he sure got you tied real pretty. But I ain't much at trying to do it standing up." Surveying possibilities, he exclaimed, "Shit! Can you get them feet far enough apart? With that there chain on your ankles?"
"No, I can't."
Uncle Faucet's tone became sly. "I'll just bet you can't, honey. But I'm getting it sort of figured out. What we do is lay you on your back and tuck that chain up there under your ass. There's enough chain for that. And then we spread your knees. Want I should get you untied?"
"No." It was a useless negative because Uncle Faucet immediately went to work and which ever of the knots defied his fingers got cut swiftly with the knife. Soon I was standing there, rubbing chaffed skin and looking feverishly around for a club I could hit this old goat over the head with. But there wasn't any, Jimmy had made quite sure of that. So I was now led lovingly by the arm to the pile of straw where Uncle Faucet invited, "Get yourself down there, honey, tuck that chain under your ass and spread them knees spread wide."
I hated him bitterly. I hated myself for possessing no magic by which to break the chain and run. In total defeat I sank once more into the straw and arranged myself to Uncle Faucet's specifications. My whole being cringed in shame at what was about to happen. And when he unzipped his fly to produce a truly impressive erection, I exclaimed in revolution, "Do you intend to do it to me with your pants on?"
"Well, honey, you got a point there." Uncle Faucet studied what appeared to be a fresh concept in his life. He then slipped out of his overalls to reveal a soiled and tattered shirt which he also tossed aside. When he performed the act of what he described as "climbing aboard" I closed my eyes and longed to die.
In an evaluation of performance, I suppose Uncle Faucet was better than his nephew. He lasted longer, plowing away at me in a hearty determination to honor the name of Faucet. His breath was foul.
I provided Uncle Faucet with what was probably the time of his life. When I had been what he described as "well Rogered", he debated with me the idea of tying me up once more so Jimmy would have no complaint and could wonder as he pleased about what had happened in his absence.
"Seems like one hell of a lot of trouble that there boy went to tie you to that post," the Ozark ravisher said. "How'd it be I throw a rope over that beam and hoist you up by your hands?"
"I don't care how you tie me but I don't see why you have to tie me at all." I tried to talk him out of it but with little hope. "You can see how my feet are chained, I can't run away. You've got me and I know it. Don't tie me up."
"I'll bet you tell that to all the boys," Uncle Faucet cackled. "But you'd best be tied, kid. Wouldn't want young Jimmy to say I let him down. And, since I'll be wanting to visit you tomorrow, we'd best keep him happy." He eyes searched me up and down for inspiration. "Tell you what, honeybunch," he said delightedly, "since you're all-fired agin' being tied up proper like I gonna fix you with just one hand you ain't gonna get loose from. Here, give me one, which ever you ain't aiming to use."
I hated the submission in which I offered my left hand and watched him knot a couple of strands around the wrist. He took a lot of care, making it far too tight, and being certain he tied the final knot below the back of my hand where my fingers could never reach. He then tossed the loose end over the beam to haul up my hand and arm until I was almost on tiptoe.
"See if you can reach up and untie yourself, honey," he invited. "I think I got me a real smart way to fix a gal."
I tried to reach the knots but fell short by the full length of a hand. Uncle Faucet nodded, satisfied. But he laughed, "You ain't really trying, honey. But I can see that even if you give it all you got you'll still be standing here when Jimmy comes back. What you think of it?"
"It hurts."
"Well, I can't let it down no more," Uncle Faucet pointed out. "A bit of hurting ain't gonna do you no harm. And you got a free hand to do whatever you like with. I'll bet you play with yourself."
"That's the last thing I want to do. I've been played with enough already," I said bitterly. "This is a horrible way to leave a girl. I'm all stretched and out of shape. If you must tie me, I don't see why you can't tie my wrists behind the post and leave it at that."
"Figured you'd had enough of that post, but if that's the way you want it...." Grudging he slipped the rope back down the beams. Almost thankfully I backed against the post and crossed my wrists behind it. But this was too conventional so he turned me around to push my breasts hard against the wood and cross my wrists and tie them on the other side where I could actually see him tug the knots. Once more I had a wild hope of freeing myself from the knots until he had me actually try and then I discovered my teeth could reach nothing, and my fingers couldn't touch the knots either. Uncle Faucet seemed pleased but there was something about my new posture which gave him the idea I'd been hoping against all along.
"That's a pretty little ass you've got there," he mused. "A girl's ass like that deserves a bit of strap. You won't mind, will you?"
"I wish you wouldn't. I don't deserve it."
"Ain't a case of what you deserve, darling. It's a case of what gives me a good feeling. Got me a nice strap out there in the car. Just you stand still a minute."
I had no choice, I stood still. Uncle Faucet's bit of strap was a horrendous looking thing at which I cringed but told myself it was better than a cane or riding crop. When he impacted it across my bottom it made a sound like a rifle shot and left behind a burn quite different from anything I'd been whipped with previously. Uncle Faucet was immensely pleased and tried again.
I struggled. I fought. I cried out in anguish. But these efforts were glowingly approved by this old man with his hunger for my flesh. He began a slow but rhythmic succession of leather slaps which cracked across my behind when Jimmy Gates reappeared to appraise his uncle's enterprise. I was already making enough noise that he need have no doubt as to my feelings on this matter. Pathetically, he explained, "I was saving that bit of her for me. I was gonna mark it up with a willow switch. Now you done spoiled it."
"I ain't spoiled nothing, Jimmy boy. Just got her nicely warmed up for whatever you aims to do. She's got the loveliest little ass I ever tanned--come to think of it, I ain't never tanned a girl's ass before. Jimmy, this is our lucky day."
Good will flowed like water, none of it was mine. I was panting my breasts hard against the post and looking longingly at bound wrists I could not touch. My curves were knowingly discussed until Uncle Faucet said, "Well, Jimmy boy, she's all yours. I got to get back in time to milk the cows but I'll likely drop back in tomorrow to have another go. Don't worry none about the girl's ass, it's still ripe for a switch. Be seeing ya!"
I heaved a sigh of relief and Jimmy did the same. I suppose it's all in the mind but if I have do be raped by a male I prefer youth to age. My scolded seat blazed its burn from Uncle Faucet's strap in a manner I felt certain would inspire my present audience of one to further action. I longed for Ma Bristol with an intensity of desire. But Ma was not there and Jimmy Gates had me but good!
Alone once more, Jimmy Gates put his arms around me from behind and, nuzzling my neck, whispered, "He didn't hurt you none, did he, Avon?"
"Of course he hurt me! Look at the place I sit down, it's absolutely on fire."
His next whisper was a tenderness I could almost believe was real concern for me rather than worry about the condition of a piece of property he temporarily owned. "I ain't gonna let him hurt you too bad, honey. I ain't ever figured him as mean but if he gets too rough, I'll take you away from here. I don't know where but I'll find a place."
"Thank you, Jimmy. Your Uncle Faucet is probably a nice old guy but not with girls. Why don't you take me somewhere else right now?"
"I'm doin' some figuring but there ain't no places good as this. If Uncle Faucet just steals you for a couple hours per day, we'd best put up with it." There came a pregnant pause. "You ain't gonna mind that, is you?" Then he continued before she could reply. "I'm gonna get a willow switch now. You won't mind that, either, right?"
"Yes, I'll mind, I'll mind a lot. Jimmy, you've got me, be kind to me."
"But a willow switch ain't gonna do you no harm. Besides, it depends on how hard I lay it on. I just do love to whip you, Avon."
It was hopeless and I was helpless. I kept on looking at the hands I longed to free while obligingly separating my feet to the length of Ma's chain to make easier what Jimmy called "feeling me up."
He seemed to find it interesting that my pussy was wet. He even advanced the argument that although I protested, I really didn't hate it at all. I liked it!
I saw no point in this discussion and kept silent. Then stood in helpless apprehension as my master left the barn to find a willow and cut a switch. Quite probably he would cut several. I cringed at the thought.
It was worse that I had thought it could be. It cut where the strap had burned my bottom, seeming to slash deep into my skin under the force of Jimmy's arm. I grunted the first time and moaned with the second. After that I screamed and made a tremendous fuss as my feet kicked and stamped. I knew it useless to struggle, but to simply stand still as the willow cut and seared took more self-control that I possessed. Swish after swish proceeded stinging agony across my bottom. I wanted to cry at the injustice of it all but my eyes were dry as Jimmy Gates build himself another erection at my expense. After we had once more performed our act upon the straw, he confessed, as if in wonder, how difficult it had been for him to stop. And to realize how a girl could be injured. When I told him how the straw hurt my wounded skin, he expressed pleasure in what he described as "the extra humpin' of my ass." As Jimmy took me into the mindless vacuum of lust, I knew there was no hope.
As the light faded, we shared a can of beef stew and a banana, and fell into a discuss on the manner in which I should be bound in the night to keep me from running away while Jimmy slept. I tried the usual argument about the chain but it didn't work. I suppose there was no reason why it should, because if I was left alone long enough, I could probably hobble away to someplace where I could actually find help. Even very short steps will get a girl somewhere.
My master decided my best place was right there on the straw where he could tie my hands out to either side and let me sleep with reasonable comfort but still be instantly available to his erection should he get one in the night. I felt ashamed I should be talking this awful stuff as if it were the weather. I suppose my state of mind proved something about a girl who's body had been violated repeated and who's bottom was still protesting its abuse. It shows how far gone I was in submission that when the time came I positioned myself exactly as required and offered first one wrist and then the other to be tied. Jimmy was clever about this, refusing to cinch me tight but leaving enough slack that I could move my hands a few inches either way. That didn't help escape at all but made this fresh helplessness more comfortable than it might have been. The way it turned out he could have tied my anyway he liked because neither of us woke up before the sun was shinning through the cracks in the walls. My hands were then untied.
Then we discussed breakfast and I came up with what I thought was a really brilliant idea. "You love tying me up, Jimmy," I suggested, "so why don't you do it and put me in the back of your car and we'll go to your place for breakfast. You said your folks were away so let's both have a civilized meal in a civilize fashion. You've got to go there anyway for something to eat."
"Hell, no, someone will get sight on your for sure. I'd best tie you here in the barn. Unless you'd sooner I tied you real tight and gagged your mouth as well, and put you in the trunk with the lid down." His eyes sought my approval.
"Why can't be go and visit your Uncle Faucet? Wouldn't he give us breakfast?"
"He would. But he'd screw you six times and want to beat your butt again before lunch."
"All right, tie me tight and put me in the trunk. I know it won't be fun but it's better than being tied up in this barn alone."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. If you tie me and leave me here it could be someone else than your uncle who comes to call. And I don't want to think what a stranger could do to me. I'd rather go with you in the front seat but if you won't do that, I'll take the trunk."
"You're a wonderful girl, Avon. I wish you didn't think the things I does to you is mean."
"And I wish you didn't do them so that makes us even. Come on, get going, I'm hungry."
Beside his car Jimmy made my stand still to over my hands and see them tied, not in back as I had supposed, but in front. When he opened the lid I could see why. At each end of the trunk was a metal brace, part of the car. Jimmy explained how my hands would be tied to one and my ankles to the other so I couldn't move much. He lifted me inside where I sat on a rug while he went to get something to use for a gag. It was simply a wet wad of cloth and a thin strap and buckle. When I caught sight of them, I pleaded. "Jimmy, you don't need those things. You don't need to gag me. Look, I'll promise I won't scream."
"You might be tempted real bad, so I ain't taking no chances. You sure you wouldn't sooner be tied up in the barn."
I'd made my choice and stayed with it. I opened my mouth so my tongue could be buried under a wet wad of some cloth and compressed in place by the thin strap buckled at the back of my neck very tightly. I tried to protest but couldn't say a thing. Jimmy was becoming a most successful kidnapper.
My master now laid me on my back and drew my tied hands up to one strut to tie them there. He then did the same with my feet, this time cinching me hard and tight. When he asked if I could move, I shook my head in complete honesty. There came the plunge into darkness, the motor started and I was once again being hauled away like some wild, captive animal.
No matter how I struggled I couldn't move a thing or reach a knot. Another of Jimmy's favorite expressions described me perfectly-I was horn-swaggled.
I could easy guess the period I stayed in my trunk prison with the motor dead was when Jimmy was in the Gates' yard, busy raiding his home for provisions for himself and a kidnapped girl. But when I heard the sounds of another car coming in and parking beside where I lay in helpless darkness, I could not even guess what was happening. That is, until the sound of a familiar voice sent me surging against the ropes and mouthing painfully against strapped lips.
"Jimmy, you young bastard, where's my girl!" Ma Bristol's voice was unmistakable. I heard it with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.
Jimmy must have heard her arrival and come out to investigate. To make things twice as bad for me, they choose to lean against his car where I could hear every word they said. Jimmy turned out a better actor than I would have thought.
"What's you mean about your gal, Ma? I ain't got no gal."
"Someone has. Avon's plumb disappeared and it's a cinch she didn't just walk away. Not with the way I had her ankles chained together. You sure you ain't seen her?"
"Why would she come here?" Jimmy was doing a good job of his innocent farm-boy act. "Wouldn't she be more likely to go to the Simpson place?"
"Not if she's got any sense, she wouldn't. But I suppose that applies to you, too. I don't trust you, Jimmy, so you'd mind if I look around?"
"Go ahead."
I heard Ma's retreating footsteps and ceased my struggles to attract her attention. Jimmy's voice was low but managed to reach my ears. "Don't worry none, Avon, let her have her look around. When she's satisfied, she'll go home. The poor old bitty thinks a lot of you."
My reply was lost against the wad filling my mouth. I longed earnestly to communicate but lay there in mute misery in the darkness of the trunk. After a while I heard Ma Bristol's voice again.
"Well, she's not here, lad. But I ain't trusting you an inch. If I find you've got her hid someplace, you'll be the sorriest young buck in the county. And I've said the same to Hattie Simpson. If neither of you have got that girl, I'll be damned if I know who has. But, with her feet chained the way I had them, she ain't wandered off on her own."
by the time Ma Bristol had delivered her dire warnings, I'd exhausted myself. Evidently the sad, small sounds I could make would not penetrated the metal of the car. When the motor started up again, I knew I'd had the saddest and most frustrating joy-ride a girl could ever dream about. I cursed my helplessness but had to pay a tribute to the young master who had acted with such cool under fire. He had certainly been right in guessing that I should be fastened and gagged very securely.
I wept all the way back.
When he untied my helpless naked body and unstrapped the gag from my mouth, Jimmy was anxious I should appreciate his foresight. "You should never have come," he pointed our reasonably. "But since you did I'll bet you can understand why I had to fix you so hard and tight the way I did. No hard feelings?"
"No hard feelings, Jimmy. I thought I would burst while you and Ma were talking, I was trying so hard to say something or get my hands free. You did a wonderful job on me."
Breakfast made us both feel better. But then I was back to square one with Jimmy's rod rampart for my sheath. And after that the inevitable debate as to how I should be tied up for the day. I fear I argued very little, it just seemed like a loosing proposition. It hadn't done me any good the day before and I didn't suppose it would now. But my anxiety was fertile with suggestions.
"Why don't you leave me on the straw, Jimmy, but tie one of my ankles to the planks on that partition? I can't reach the knots so there would be no danger of me getting loose."
"Maybe you couldn't but I don't trust you. And, anyway, I want you so you'd be handy when I want a screw. We ain't done it dog fashion, so that's the way you're going to be tied. Hands behind your back, sweetheart."
What else could I do but obey! I stood miserably as cords robbed me of my hands, and when that was done the beam above was once more used with my tied wrists and one end and Jimmy hauling on the other end of the rope. The results was my arms raised up and up while I bend over. When he'd raised my arms so far I was sure my shoulders would dislocate, he stopped to tether me in exactly that position while I complained. "Jimmy, you can't possibly leave me like this all day! I'll be hurt!"
"Yes, I can, honeybunch. If you want to sort of come up for air, you'll find you can. It's hard on your arms but you'll find you can manage it. You don't have to panic."
My captor was right. By straining I could raise my head to a proper level until the stress became too great to bear and I once again bend shamefully to expose those portions of a girl that should not be shown. I was tired of pleading so just kept quiet.
What was inevitable. Jimmy must have read about it in a book but it was certainly new to me. But some girl, when they're bent over the way I was, stick their pussy out back to provide the conquering male with an easy target. Jimmy grasped my hips in control of my body and drew them back against his loins and the once-more erect phallus by which I was to be impaled. If there are girls who like it done to them this way, they're welcome. I could see no virtue in this approach, but, since I couldn't do a thing about it, I simply endured Jimmy's hard rod as it rammed into my sheath.
From his point of view, my impaling in this position was unique and evidently rather satisfying. He left me tied like that throughout the day. He explained this to me as if I might be pleased but my struggled and protests told a different story to anyone who would listen. But he had a one track mind and he saw me fulfilling two delightful functions. I was most certainly "Tied up." And, with an equal certainty, was available for a "good screwing" whenever he wished.
I discovered a little while later that this way of being tied provided his tool with more than one target. I was forced, under threat of a willow switch across my bare bottom, to raise my head up and accept his rod into my mouth, therein to perform and ancient but nevertheless shaming act of oral sex. Evidently Jimmy found that pleasing for he climaxed in my mouth with a cry of delight. I felt like a whore, a sex object, not a human being.
I was kept available and employed for various sex acts throughout the morning until I gave up hope and struggling to simply hang against my tied wrists with my hair falling around my head. It's a real shocker when I girl concedes the potency of male strength in complete mastery over her. Jimmy Gates was very happy with his fresh discoveries.
Jimmy gave me back my hands so I could join him at lunch. I was discovering that whenever I was untied I would be enveloped in a wave of pure joy in a return to some sort of normalcy. We chatted as we ate even though Jimmy's topic was his favorite one of how to tie up Avon next. I was at that point of mind where a girl feels nothing matters anymore. I'd been screwed both front and behind to a fare-thee-well and was beginning to realize that a girl could probably be used as a sex slave forever.
And the worst part was that a part of me liked it! I would not have voluntarily have allow these things done to me, but my body seemed to accept them, even embrace them with a sexual warmth that shocked me. A girl treated thus was just not suppose to like it.
I ate lunch with surprising gusto.
Confrontations were now a part of my day. When Jimmy inquired how I would like to be tied up for the afternoon, I had my answer ready and asked why didn't he tie my hands behind my back and leave it at that! My feet were already chained and if he robbed me of my hands, he could feel he had me safe. He listened doubtfully to my suggestion before admitting he had something else in mind. After that I simply allowed myself to be pushed around and posed in any way he pleased. We ended up with him tying my hands behind my back but then lifting me to put me astride the top of one of the partitions between the stalls. It was only possible when he bend my legs backward to accommodate the chain joining my ankles. I could balance only by holding tightly with my knees and thighs against the wood partition. My hands were useless in keeping my balance and I feared a fall to the hard earth floor might come at any time. But the worst part came when I realized that my weight was squarely upon my pussy and the wooden board I was astride. I tried to hold myself up with my thighs pressing against the wood but it was a loosing battle. Slowly I settled down until the wood dug deeply into my tender and private place.
It would have been a horrible way to spend any time and there might have really been a possibility of my falling from my perch, but Jimmy fixed me so that falling was impossible. He tied a rope to my leg just below the knee and pulled that away from the partition. Then he did the same with my other leg, leaving me with knees spread wide and all my weight upon that thin wooden board. I was pleading, begging him to realize just how painful this was and the terrible harm he was doing to my sexual parts. He ignored me.
I could not fall now but was in a horrible position that I knew would grow more and more painful as each minute crawled by. It appeared I was once again an artist creation of this young man. I could make few motions but what I did pleased Jimmy mightily, no doubt generating a fresh erection within his pants. Pathetically I sat upon my sex, fearing to move least I grind the wood against my tender flesh. I had rarely felt so helpless.
I don't know how long it was before my moans turned into cries and then to screams. But it was about that point when Uncle Faucet reappeared.
"What you think you're doing to her, Jimmy boy? That there ain't just a way to tie a girl up. That there's a way to torture them, it is. Get her off of there before you mash her cunt."
"But, Uncle, I was only trying out...."
"Boy, you're still wet behind the ears. Get yourself out of here and I'd take over for a while. That poor girl needs some tender, loving care. And that's just what I came to provide. There's an apple pie in the cupboard. Why don't you go eat it?"
Jimmy departed and Uncle Faucet took charge. I managed to bottle my screams while he was fumbling with knots but then, when he lifted me off, a sad little scream left me as my weight came off the board. My thanks were sincere as I was laid upon the hard ground. I wondered what I would have done if Uncle Faucet had not come in. It certainly appeared that Jimmy had plans to leave me sitting there for a painfully long time, perhaps the rest of the day. Uncle Faucet seemed a real nice guy right then.
He had also shaved.
"Here, let me rub it for you, girlie. That young asshole might have done you harm." His voice was actually caring as his hands sought my sex. Since my hands were still tied behind my back, I could do nothing but let him enjoy himself. I have to hand it to Uncle Faucet that his hands were gentle.
We must have made a strange picture-a naked girl with ankles chained and hands bound behind her back while a rustic palmed her puss and earnestly assured, "I'd take you over permanent, girlie, if it wasn't for Ma Bristol. Wouldn't be long before she found out where you was and then there'd be hell to pay. That feel better?"
"Yes, thank you. You can stop now."
"Getting you excited?"
"No, I'm not sure I'll ever be excited again. That was awful on the edge of that wood. Would you like to untie my hands."
"I'll untie them if you promise to be a good girl while I knock off a piece. I've been in rare form thinking about you over night. My Willie wants you bad."
"I'll promise that if you'll promise not to whip me after you're through with what you just said. Please don't whip me today."
"Look, gal, you trying to tell me what to do?" Uncle Faucet was offended. "You got lots of places ready for that strap of mine and I aim to get to them after I've cooled my cock in your cunt. Get down on that straw, girlie, won't hurt you none to lay on tied hands."
It was hateful and demeaning. And I had to wonder what Grandma would be thinking of me if she knew. I suppose any girl in the fix I was in thinks there ought be something she could do about it. But I couldn't run and I couldn't fight. And anything I said would just antagonize this old man. I figured it was best to have Uncle Faucet as a friend. So I lay on the straw and arranged myself in a posture of shame for his convenience. He then proceeded to avail himself of my body with all the gusto of a much younger man. I lay there wishing the ugliness would end yet dreading the sensation of uncles thrusts for that would certainly mean a resumption of his obsession for putting marks upon my skin. But end it finally did, with Uncle Faucet resuming his pants.
"You're the best I ever had, girlie," he avowed as he looked down upon the seat of his pleasure.
But I just didn't care any more. I waited expectantly.
Uncle Faucet lifted me erect and untied my hands. It shows how far gone I was in humiliation that I said a most sincere, "Thank you, uncle," for the small mercy of their release. While I massaged chaffed wrists his palm returned to my moist mound to busy itself with comforting my injury although I could see no connection between what he was doing and my roped wrists.
"You spoke of Ma Bristol," I said finally. "Why don't you take me back to her, she'd be ever so grateful?"
"What good would that do me, honeybunch?"
"Well, it's better to have Ma as a friend than an enemy. And maybe she'd lend me to you once in a while if that's what you want."
"What! That old bitty!" Uncle Faucet laughed. "She don't lend nobody nothing. And, anyway, I got you right now, all safe and sound with your pretty little slit in real good shape and ready for the next ride. Although it's gonna have to wait 'cause I ain't as young as I was and I'll need to lace into you with the leather before John Willie's ready to go again. Your back ain't marked so how'd it be I use it this time 'round?"
"Please don't whip me. I haven't done a thing wrong and don't deserve it." I sniffed.
Uncle Faucet paid no heed. Probably he never heard a word I said. Busily he roped each of my punished wrists and positioned my nakedness beneath the beam to toss the ropes up and over. They were pulled tight to raise me up on my toes. He next found an old battered wooden box on which I was ordered to stand enabling him to raise my arms again. When he kicked away the thing on which I stood, I found myself suspended with my feet off the floor and my wrists once more screaming murder.
There was an awful moment of disorientation as I swung back and forth after the removal of the box and I realized how well Uncle Faucet had positioned me for the purpose he had in mind. I could dance and kick to my heart's content but because he had tied my hands well apart I could not turn or take evasive action.
"That's real perty, young lady," said Uncle Faucet. "And the nice thing 'bout havin' you hung up is you can kick all you want. I dearly love to see a girl kicking when there ain't nothin' to kick. I'll go and get what I plan to use on you."
I was gasping and making enough noise to let anyone know how horrible it was to be hung up like a side of beef. He returned a few moments later, not with the leather strap, but with an old fashion buggy whip which I eyed with apprehension.
"I ain't aiming to cut you up or bruise that pretty pelt," Uncle Faucet said cheerfully. "But if you ain't had no buggy whip used on you before, this will be a real experience. Now don't you forget to kick all you want because watching a gal kick is half the fun. Let's try this for size."
I had expected the slender whip to be slashed around my waist to curl and lick and bit, and perhaps sometimes marking one of my breasts. But it now appeared that skill was involved as in flicking a horse fly from a horse's rump. Whatever it may be called, Uncle Faucet was adept in it's use. The effect was a sharp, cruel snap to make me yelp at the sudden burn which would leave a mark upon my skin no more than five inches long. By the time he had neatly snapped me a dozen times, I had small but painful wounds in one armpit, my waist, and one of the cheeks of my bottom. I am shamed to say I kicked lustily against each snickering snap. But such relief I discovered in the act was counter-balanced by uncle's shrewd snapping inside my thigh. In his hands the buggy whip was intensely personal and charged with venom. I didn't give a damn about Uncle Faucet's pleasure but kicked and danced in a physical effort to rid myself of pain. Or perhaps unconsciously to show how cruel he was being to a helpless naked girl. I think had cut at me about twenty times when a male voice exclaimed from the doorway, "Well, I'll be damned! This is the place."
Startled, I looked back over a bare shoulder to behold a man in uniform and one other. It was Westley Wallace.
CHAPTER NINE - Prune's Whipping
Ginevera knew herself privileged to watch Prune's painful progress down the pathway to becoming eligible for entry to Miss Prelate's Class. The maiden from New York was as far removed from Trinity and the atmosphere of the ancient castle as any girl could be. But throughout her ordeals, Prune was obviously intensely motivated to wear the Trinity handcuffs on her wrists and the shackle on her ankle every night, suffering them gladly in her search for education. That she was complaining verbal throughout this period of initiation was no more than in keeping with the character Trinity sought to modify. As Lady Alyth, Ginevera and their new recruit walked to the room of punishments, Prune's vocalizing was a commentary on everything she saw.
While entering the fateful chamber her reaction was instant, "Holly cow! Ain't this some sort of torture chamber? What I mean is look at all these wooden things with holes. And I'll bet those holes are for a girl's neck and wrists and ankles. Gee whiz, you do things right, don't cha?"
"If our only punishment was the whip, our girls would soon be bored, dear," Lady Alyth explained gently. "But with these things we can do all sorts of punishments. I expect you'll get to try these things out. For instance, should you wish to try we could stand you in the pillory right now for an hour or so. So you'll know what it's like?"
"Shit no! Let's get on with this whipping business and get it over with. That Rooster gang used to whip me now and then but I'll bet it weren't nothing like this. You do things right." There was a pause as she looked down. "Why are you unlocking the handcuffs?"
"You hands get strapped above your head, dear. It's by far the best position for a girl, beautifully simple. Just do what Ginevera says, she'll make sure you're properly secured."
Ginevera was aware of a guilty feeling at the excitement she felt during the process of binding Prune. Using a box to help her get high enough, Ginevera inserted a youthful hand into the leather loop and buckled it tight around the slender wrist. With both hands secured well above the girl's head, Ginevera took away the box to join Lady Alyth in surveying the naked girl who had never been thus whipped before. Prune was looking up at her strapped hands and tugging as though to measure helplessness.
"Makes me sort of pubic, don't it?" she remarked. "What I mean is anyone comes by can cop a feel or bite my tit or maybe lift me up for a knee-trembler." She eyed them in a truly human anxiety. "Look, you two, for Pete's sake, don't hit me too damned hard."
Standing to the rear and one side, Ginevera watched Lady Alyth's first swish across Prune's shoulders. That brought an instant response. "For Pete's sake, not so hard!" Prune was busy pedaling a non-existent bicycle. "I asked you not to let me have it real hard but here you go and belt me like I was a horse. Can't you take it easy, that hurt something awful."
Lady Alyth did not seem to hear. Her second stroke was exactly like the first except lower down. It drew another complaint. The third and forth followed quickly with Prune's exclamations becoming more personal and loud. Lady Alyth's fifth was in the nature of a reprimand, being more severe than all the rest.
"You rotten bitch! You absolute asshole! No one said nothing about whipping me to bits. Lay off, will ya, I've had enough!"
Lady Alyth paused. Her voice was gentle but Ginevera could see a tension in her lovely face. "I would advise you to watch your tongue and control yourself. You are now one quarter through our ritual. And the strokes still to come need not be as hard as the one I've just given you. That was a warning. Jump around all you like but be careful what you say."
Lady Alyth swung the whip again to bit at tender thighs. Ginevera watched breathlessly, sharing every blow. Ginevera suspected that Prune, despite her loud protests, was actually doing her best to be stoic. Walking to where she could stand face to face with the quivering neophyte, Ginevera consoled wisely. "The things you say in New York are not the things you say here. Why don't you scream instead?"
"Shit! You mean I'm allowed to?"
The blows were continuing as the two girls spoke. "Of course you can scream. But watch what you say. And the things you call her. Remember, she's our mistress, she can do whatever she likes with either one of us.
You're not the least bit free."
"You're telling me! This politeness thing-you want me to tell her thank you every time she takes a whack at me?"
"It might be a good idea if you can manage it."
Prune actually tried and Ginevera's heart went out to the whipped girl as she gasped each pathetic thank you for strokes received. Four strokes later Prune began to scream and Ginevera stood back in awe at such much sound. Lady Alyth caught her eye and smiled her wise and knowing smile. But she made no pause in what was, after all, only the regular fortnightly ritual for every girl in Trinity.
When the last slash had marked the young girl's skin, Prune hung silent and limp in her straps. As the two watchers made to withdraw. Prune plead, "Please don't go. I know you're suppose to leave me like this for a while but please leave Ginevera here. Just a little while?"
"Ginevera, come here with me." Lady Alyth's rebuke was stern. "We'll leave our guest to think about the things a pupil at Trinity should know and how she should behave. Maybe in an hour she'll be more polite."
Ginevera was obedient and the two women left the room to the tune of Prune's pleas not to be left so bound and alone. When they came back an hour later it was to discover a nude young woman who obviously had done a lot of thinking and was apprehensive about what came next.
"How'd I make out?" Prune inquired.
"You did splendidly, dear. A pity you spoiled it with some bad remarks."
"I figured I done all right. What was it I said."
"You called me a bitch, dear." Lady Alyth's tone was a tiger's purr. "A bitch is a female dog-hardly a compliment."
"It just popped out. I'm sorry."
"You also mentioned me as an asshole."
"You mean that's bad!" Prune sounded shocked. "Shit, I'm calling someone an asshole all the time. Most people are assholes."
"Look at me. Prune, and repeat what you said."
The fastened girl moved from one foot to the other uneasily, twisting at wrists. Reluctantly her eyes fastened on the woman before her. "Didn't aim to hurt your feelings. I promise I won't call you an asshole anymore." She paused hopefully. "How about unstrapping my hands?"
"Of course. Ginevera, would you mind?" To the whipped girl she said coldly, "I can't possibly forgive those two foul names. You'll be punished for them."
"What do you mean punished! You just whipped my ass and most of the rest of me. Ain't that enough?"
"That was not a punishment. Prune. It was your first taste of a ritual we practice here at Trinity. In two weeks it will be done to you again. You will be punished for calling me names."
Prune looked from one to the other of her companions, finding pity but no forgiveness. In the ringing tones of a declaration, she affirmed, "I don't want to be punished no more. Them two words don't mean nothing."
"They mean a lot to me and to Trinity, Prune. Will you do as you're told now or would you like me to call the guards?"
"Oh shit! Don't want no guards. What ya want me to do?"
It was a dejected but curious young woman who surveyed the bench and stocks the upper yoke of which Ginevera was holding invitingly open. "You sit down and position your feet where Ginevera's waiting for them," said Lady Alyth. "You're a sensible girl, Prune, not to make a fuss."
Gingerly Prune lowered her whipped bottom upon the hard bench and looked doubtfully at the waiting half circles. Obviously hating ever move, the punished girl inserted an ankle within one of them and, then discovering no hurt, simply put in the other. At that point Ginevera lowered the upper yoke to encase a pair of transatlantic feet solidly in oak. Down went the iron latch and padlocked snapped shut.
"Well, I'll be damned," Prune said in admiration. T read about these things but didn't ever figure to get fixed in one. This all there is to it?"
"Tie her hands behind her back, Ginevera. I don't want her easing her weight off the bench."
Ginevera could have performed the task quickly had she not been handcuffed. But she crossed Prune's wrists and bound them tight in the manner of long experience and bitter memory. Laughingly she kissed a baffled prisoner and then rejoined the woman who owned them both. Prune was making tentative motions of discovery. "You've got my feet so far apart my sex is showing," she accused modesty. "You should have let me wear panties."
"You look fine, dear."
"My ass hurts."
"That's because it's been whipped and the bench is coated with sandpaper. You have to expect some discomfort."
"I read about these here things. Seems I seen a set someplace once. I'll bet I'm going to get awful sick of sitting with my ass on sandpaper. You ain't gonna leave me here long, are you?"
"Long enough, dear. You can sit and think about the words you shouldn't use. Come along, Ginevera, we'll leave the poor girl to her thoughts."
Ginevera had other things to think about than Prune. "Are you making a gift of me to Westley or am I sleeping in the dorm?" she asked.
Lady Alyth laughed. "How would it be I let you chose," she asked.
"But I can't do that. A girl can't walk up to a man and simply ask if he would take her to bed."
"I don't think you have to worry, Ginevera, dear. I've told Westley he can do whatever he wants with you. I'm mentioned marriage, of course, but haven't pushed it. Not after last time."
"Westley likes to whip me. He's been away long enough to get hot and bothered about it. But you've whipped me once already today. Please make him give me a few days rest."
"Persuade him yourself, Ginevera. He's only a man and a girl can do anything with a man."
"I'm not a bit certain about that. I didn't have much luck last time."
"Well, darling, between me playing a trick on you then going and getting yourself kidnapped, we were all a bit handicapped. Try again, I think the dear boy's in love with you."
Westley served the brandy in the lounge. He was only mildly concerned with the girl seated in the stocks but treated Ginevera with such an air of possession as to warm her heart and sparkle the eyes of Lady Alyth. When he announced that Ginevera would be sharing his bed, there was no trace of descent and he moved on to his next question.
"I'm wondering about that girl, Avon," he said thoughtfully. I imagine she's making out all right but she must have served more than half her sentence so what's the plan for getting her back when it expires? That old woman on the farm isn't getting Ginevera again."
"Well, damn it, Westley, we're not a bit short of girls. When Avon's sentence is finished why don't you invite this Ma Bristol to visit Trinity and bring Avon with her. I'll foot the bill and we can turn the old girl loose among the girls and she can pick which ever one takes her fancy. Diana still shows traces of rebellion so maybe a stretch on an Ozark farm will do her good. I have an impression that when Ma Bristol gets a girl, that girl stays put."
"I like that a lot, it's a wonderful idea." Ginevera was truly pleased. "I'm fond of Ma Bristol and I'm sure she'd understand. I mean about Avon's six month sentence and Avon's grandmother."
Westley nodded. "It would save me acting as courier or escort, so I won't figure on another trip out there. Look, is that girl you've got down in the stocks going to be a nuisance? If I'd been quicker on the draw I could have taken her to Ma Bristol while I was over there. Then the old girl would have had two of them."
"Prune needs polishing. We'll feed her some good food and fill out that slender body. At the same time we'll teach her how to talk. She's a bit of a rough diamond but Miss Prelate will look after that. Don't worry yourself about Prune."
"Everything seems to be well in hand." Westley was thoughtfully playing with Ginevera's hair. She was laying on the rug beside his chair. "But, Auntie, I've been away quite a while and I found myself spending too much time dreaming about whipping Ginevera's bottom. And a few other places, of course. Then when I show up I found that you've done the job for me. Looking at the dear girl from a rear view, she's beautifully marked. It's a bit of a let down."
"If you'd had phoned us you were coming, Ginevera wouldn't have gotten whipped. Life doesn't stand still while you're away, you know."
Westley grunted. "How about me whipping her all over again," he suggested slyly. "If I asked her real nice I'll be she'll say yes."
"I've already told the dear child it's between the two of you. When you take her to bed you can discuss it. Maybe she'll offer you ideas about other places. A girl has more to offer than just her bottom, you know."
Ginevera shivered deliciously but said no word. Westley grunted thoughtfully before saying, "I suppose I could use one of the others but it's not the same. Damned funny how a man makes discoveries about himself. Seems I have to love a girl to enjoy whipping her. It might be amusing to whip young Erin."
"Keep your hands off Erin, she's too young. I'll let you know when she's ready."
"She's ready now. You know damned well she's been wanting to sleep with me since way back. It's one of the nicest compliments I've had. She's a sweet child. And if it wasn't for Ginevera I'd give you an argument about how ready she really is." He pulled Ginevera's hair. "You can pour the brandy. And then we'll go to bed."
"Westley, you say the most outrageous things," Ginevera said when they were alone in the bedroom. "Would you really want to whip Erin?"
"Of course I do. She's a mischievous little nymphet who would adore every stroke. And, anyway, I'd lay it on lightly the first time. I've always known the ladyship would give the little sweetheart to me whenever she figured the time was right. Or should I say when Erin was ripe. Why don't you do some persuading on my behalf. That it is something Erin wants more than anything else. I have to feel humble over the adoration that child gives me."
"Why do you have to bother with that child when you've got me?"
"Nothing to do with you, my pet." Westley patted a whip-marked bottom. "Erin represents an unfulfilled ambition."
"You're a dirty old man. Who doesn't deserve either of us. But since you've got me and I have to do what I'm told, maybe you should brief me on what to expect. I don't want to expose myself on the bed if you're not in the mood."
"You know what I'm in the mood for, I want to give you a good, old-fashioned whipping. But I'll admit I'm not a bit fussy about whipping your breasts. That aunt of mine sometimes gets a bit far out for my tastes. She's a remarkable woman."
"How about whipping the soles of my feet. I understand it's highly thought of in some circles."
"Not in mine. You'd hate me forever. It hurts worse than you think. No. what I want to do is whip your back and cane your bottom. Sorry, but that's the way of it."
Ginevera was shocked by the wave of sexual excitement which swept over her. To be whipped by this man who was tenderly massaging her bottom and teasing her nipples was now what she wanted, perhaps more than he did. And she wondered why she had seen it otherwise.
"Very well, Westley," she said quietly. "Take me to the punishment room and whip me. I want you to. Honest, I do."
Without a word, Westley picked her up and carried her downstairs. When she was standing beneath the supple straps she whispered, "You'd best gag me, darling. I'm not a bit sure how I'm going to take this."
"For Pete's sake, do I have to sit her all night! My ass is killing me." The New York lament broke into their private little scene. Westley had failed to notice the girl still firmly locked in the stocks and Ginevera had forgotten. Westley was annoyed. "Take the damned girl upstairs and shackle her foot. I'll wait for you here," he said tersely. "And hurry."
"I can't get Prune out of the stock. Lady Alyth has the key."
Westley was not easily defeated. He strapped a gag inside Prune's loud mouth and bandaged a pair of eyes that they would not witness what was going to take place. In a return of his customary good humor, he took Ginevera in his arms and kissed her long and tenderly.
"I won't forget what you're doing for me tonight," he whispered. "I love you very much."
"Ohhhhhh, Westley!" The two words were rich in a message between a woman and a man.
"Are you sure you really want this, sweetheart?" Westley dangled the contraption of steel and rubber before her. "It's your choice, not mine."
"I not only want it but I need it." The words were grim but tinged with laughter. "Fasten my hands first so I won't change my mind."
With wrists willing to be strapped the task was simple. But Westley used all his male strength to insure a tight fit. Ginevera was sustained by a continuing glow of lust. "Open your mouth, sweetheart," came the order. She accepted the gag by which she would keep her anguish to herself. Westley strapped it savagely tight to compress her cheeks and seal her lips as though he, too, wished her screams to remain her own. He took Lady Alyth's whip from the wall. But before he used it, he held his loved one very tenderly and very long. When he at last broke from her, the helpless girl closed her eyes. In the far corner of the huge chamber a naked and bound girl listened intently for the sounds of an ordeal she was glad she would not share.
With the first cut of the whip, Ginevera bit hard upon the rubber wad while her lips strained against the leather and steel. She was well aware that half the lashes her lover planted on her skin would find some virgin space but the other half would most certainly fall upon the wounds Lady Alyth had placed there earlier that day. By and standards she had invited upon herself an ordeal beyond what any girl should bear. Thinking about it afterwards, she was never sure how she had been able to take the incredible pain save that she had drifted off into some misty world where her body was isolated from her mind. The fire and scold of her second punishment of that day had been transformed into an act of loving from the male hands she loved.
Only dimly conscious of the muted screams beating against the gag, Ginevera remembered mostly the shining eyes of her lover as his arms brought the leather to impact against her skin again and again. And of the certain impalement on his erection when this was through.
When, after years had passed, Westley cast aside the thong and with it all his clothes, he clutched in the most urgent need the stripped bottom of the girl he had sorely whipped to raise her helpless nakedness to where his seeking phallus found entry in the warm, wet sheath. Then he lowered her gently until her legs and thighs clamped hard and crossed behind his back to make the two of them as one. And even though she was still tight gagged, Ginevera's moans managed to match his own as she fought strapped wrists in an instinctive need to wrap her loving arms around his neck.
Prune saw nothing and spoke no word.
Miss Prelate accepted Prune in much the manner of someone finding a rattlesnake in their bed. Everything about the new prisoner was an offense. Prune failed to match the uniform loveliness of the Class, although Miss Prelate's eagle eye noted possibilities for improvement. The new girl was sent with a couple of member of the class to where her hair might be made more feminine and cosmetic skills improve her appearance. All three were admonished to try and do something about the new girl's disastrous speech.
The Trinity girls had always spent much of their imprisonment on personal adornment, bring to their captivity an assortment of skills. And when Prune was return for Miss Prelate's inspection she was visibly a much better looking girl. She already wore the Trinity handcuffs upon her wrists. She was told where to sit and especially to listen. With good will in both camps, the morning passed without punishment. But Prune's attention span was not the greatest and she was still troubled by sore and tender whereon she sat. The result was that she was constantly wiggling. When told to repeat the sentence another girl had read, she fell short with slang not belonging to the King's English. Miss Prelate felt properly shocked and demanded that Prune come to stand before the class and make effort to amend her scholarship. Miss Prelate should have known better.
Prune stared back at twenty expectant young ladies, all as naked and handcuffed as herself, obviously nervous. She did her best to recall the line but failed miserably.
The silence was one of shock at the mess she had made of a simple quote. The prelate pounced. "Silence! Such garbled nonsense in affront. Hold our your hand."
"You ain't aiming to hit me with that thing, is you?" Prune caught sight of the cane in Miss Prelate's hand. "Look, I ain't done nothing. What's the beef?"
"Your hand, girl. This instant!"
"I can't hold out nothing, I'm handcuffed."
"Don't quibble, handcuffs do not prevent you."
Prune extended both hands as though to receive a gift. But Miss Prelate wasted no time in argument. "Stand still and hold that hand out, palm up, you ridiculous creature," she ordered. "I expect full cooperation in your punishment and if I don't get it, you'll be a very sorry girl."
"Shit, what I done?" Prune was genuinely concerned and felt her academic future fading into limbo.
"The Class will inform you of that later. Now, stand still and behave yourself."
The swish was, as always, cruel. For a split second the punished girl stood still in shock and disbelief at the pain. Then a bare foot lashed up to connect with Miss Prelate's groin. "You rotten bitch," she exclaimed in firm conviction. "I wouldn't hurt no dog this bad. You ruined my hand."
Miss Prelate gasped and stepped back to clutch that portion of herself injured. When anger overcame pain she wasted no words but took a firm grip with thumb and finger upon Prune's closest ear to lead her, bitterly complaining, to what the Class always laughingly referred to as a "fate worse than death," a visit to the office of Lady Alyth.
Lady Alyth had coped with these scenes before. Mistresses were instructed not to go beyond the cane in their infliction of discipline. If the sin demanded a stronger punishment, the culprit was to be brought before the personal attention of Lady Alyth. In this case Lady Alyth wished that Prune had been more restrained in her reaction to proper punishment. But she listened to Miss Prelate's indignation before turning to a tearful girl to inquire what she had to say. It would have been better if Prune had said nothing.
"This rotten bitch don't like the way I talk." Prune was direct. "She figured I made a fuck up over some girl named Juliet and some guy named Romeo. Then, without me doing nothing bad, not even giving her lip, she whacks my hand with a lousy cane and damned near cut it in two. That's where I kicked her cunt."
Lady Alyth sighed. This one might not be easy. Most of her girls were submissive enough from the imprisonment, handcuffs on their wrists, and the fortnightly whippings to be careful about what the said and did. Especially about anything relative to Angela Prelate who they justly feared.
"I'm sure you were thinking of some sort of punishment, Miss Prelate," Lady Alyth said evenly. "What did you have in mind?"
Angela Prelate took a deep breath. "The girl should be flogged beyond a normal whipping. A second choice might be to keep her in the dungeon for perhaps a month." She paused and then added, "I suppose we could suspend her by her thumbs."
"They're all terribly unoriginal, Angela. I do try to avoid the banal."
"I will be governed by your own choice. Madam."
Once more Lady Alyth sighed. "I am sure the girl's thumbs will be quite adequate," she said regretfully. "Will you be good enough to take Prune downstairs?"
In the matter of reply, Prune beat Miss Prelate to the punch. "You have to be kidding," she blurted out. "There ain't no way I'm getting myself hung up by my thumbs." She turned to Lady Alyth with heaving breasts. "Why the hell don't you string this old bag up the way she says. That's the sort of lousy thing the Rooster fellows would have thought up. Shit, I'm going home."
"You can't go home, dear, you're a prisoner." Lady Alyth pressed a button on her desk.
Prune put up a valiant fight but the guards handled her with patient ease to lift her from the floor and carry her down the stone steps, followed by an indignant Miss Prelate and the owner of Trinity who wished her senior mistress would be more tolerant of her pupils.
Quick Prune was strung up by snared thumbs until her feet were well off the. stone floor and kicking wildly. Even then her courage got the better of her. "You rotten lot of bastards," she stormed. "Look, don't leave me like this and go away laughing. If you'll put me on the floor, I'll say I'm sorry and I promise I won't beef to no cops. Oh, please!"
They left her to hang in loneliness and went away. The closing of the door was the knell of doom.
The girl from New York hung motionless. She soon discovered that any motion intensified the hurt. Escape did not enter her mind, it was too impossible. All she need be concerned with was how long she would be left in this wicked suspension. The Rooster gang had amused themselves with her in many ways but never anything that promised to be as prolong and painful as this. Prune was not prone to tears but first one and then another escaped her eyes to trickle down her cheeks. She moaned and wished that nice Westley fellow would show up and take her down. If he screwed her too it would be even better. But, more urgently she wondered if she were woman enough to stand the gaff, pay attention and lean whatever it was Miss Prelate had to teach.
Not that her intention to do better in class helped her much now. She moaned and moaned again as she endured a punishment that felt like it would go on forever.
In her office the owner of Trinity Castle wondered if any other woman had to be an mentally on the ball as her. Prune was downstairs hanging by her thumbs, Miss Prelate was admonishing her class, and now her own favorite slavegirl stared earnestly across her desk.
"Westley and I have had quite a talk," Ginevera confessed slyly. "He really does want to marry me but he's come up with a set of Rules."
"I'll just bet he has. And I'll also bet I can guess most of them. Carry on, darling."
"Well, you know his thing about whipping girls." Ginevera squirmed upon a tender seat. "I'm terribly sore from getting it twice yesterday. And when I backed up to the mirror this morning I got shock."
"You were beautifully whipped, darling."
"Well, yes, I suppose I was. But he now tells me I have to be whipped once every two weeks even though I would be his wife. He says that if he has to go away on business he'll put me back here among the girls where I'll be subject to all the usual rules, naked and handcuffed and all the rest."
"What else could you expect, dear?"
"I suppose I was silly but I wasn't expecting that. I thought that when a girl gets married she was sort of ... privileged."
"You will be, darling, I'll make sure of it. What Westley is talking about is the odd bits of time when he's not around. I think it's a splendid idea."
"Westley likes the idea of the two of us having an apartment in the castle here. He says it's your idea?"
"And what a wonderful idea it is! Total privacy if you want it and all the facilities of Trinity Castle if you don't. Darling, don't complain."
Ginevera held up her hands. "You see I'm still handcuffed and that's the way Westley says he wants me always. And, of course, I have to be naked. He took that for granted." Ginevera grinned ruefully. "It's not exactly the way I picture marriage."
"You'll have a marvelous time. You'll honeymoon in Italy. Most girls would give their eyeteeth for such a gorgeous time. And Westley tells me he'll take you with him on these business trips of his. You probably get whipped and tied up in hotel rooms." Lady Alyth sighed. "I wish I was young again."
"You are young, don't try and kid me, Alyth. There's not that many years between the two of us. Why haven't you ever wanted a man?"
"Oh, I've wanted him all right. But I haven't wanted the curtailment of my freedom. I've got things good the way they are. A man would just mess the whole thing up. Take Westley, darling, and be grateful." Lady Alyth allowed the silence to length for a few seconds before adding, "And, don't forget, I want a son."
"Will my wedding be another farce like the last one?"
"I was naughty about that," Lady Alyth conceded. "This time you can pick your own. A church?"
"I thought of a Registrar, with just a few witnesses."
"Whatever you want, dear, but that sounds frightfully dull. If you'd allow me to pick the proper minister we could have a delightful innovation when it comes to him saying 'you may now kiss the bride.' I'd like to change that to, 'you may now whip the bride.' Don't you think that's rather sweet?"
Ginevera was not the least bit sure. She was in that pre-nuptial condition of hot loins and the selection of furniture. She realized Trinity would condone nothing mundane and was prepared to be whipped here and there along the course. But somehow she wanted a more traditional wedding. One with a few less ropes and chains than Westley and Lady Alyth would have.
"Seems to me the perfect marriage," Lady Alyth said seriously. "Westley is never going to be the normal husband. He'll whip you as often as he can get away with because he loves you. That's not too bad for a husband. Mostly they drink beer and look at the TV and visit whores. In Westley you've got something special."
"If I can stand the pain."
"Stop it, Ginevera! I refuse to listen to your silly ideas. You'll be a good wife to my nephew and do exactly as he says and you'll enjoy all the benefits Trinity Castle can offer. If there is a dungeon in the background it will be because you have not had the good sense to stay out of it. Make myself clear, darling?"
Ginevera always felt better after talking to Lady Alyth. She was conscious of a wet sex resulting from the discussion but consoled herself with thoughts of the new wing to be made over and modernized for her and the man whose love she could no longer doubt. Ardently she went around the kissed the woman behind the desk. "Darling, you always make me feel better. But, no thank you, I don't want to be whipped again for quite a while. I'll go talk to Westley, I'm sure he's got a lot more rules." Half way to the door she turned to ask, "What have you done with Prune?"
"I'm afraid she ran afoul of Miss Prelate. She's hanging by her thumbs downstairs."
"But that's a terrible punishment!"
"Yes, dear, but you know Miss Prelate. And the girl did go a bit overboard and kicked a mistress. Why don't you go down and whip the darling while she's suspended like that. Nothing too cruel, of course, but as an accompaniment to conversation. Run along."
Ginevera had intended to return to talk with the man who would be her husband but went instead down the menace of the stone steps to whatever she would find below. Prune was hanging limply, absorbing pain, and the girl who walked quietly in glimpsed the bizarre beauty of a punished girl. Prune's head was bowed in despair as her arms were taut in traction beneath her punished thumbs. Without hope she focused on her visitor to ask, "Won't you let me down. Please let me down."
Ginevera acted by instinct without reason. She did not think of the penalty hanging over the act she now performed. But this picture of Prune hanging there because of Miss Prelate's venom was more than she could stand. She kicked the box over by the hanging girl to stand on it and tear at knots. When Prune once more stood upon the floor she busied herself with one punished thumb while the owner comforted the other. It was thus Westley discovered them.
To be caught in the act of treason can never be something a girl would wish for. Ginevera stood with bowed head before her master's gaze. Prune was too busy being thankful for relief.
"I suppose you know what you've just done," Westley said cheerfully. "Her ladyship will skin you alive." He paused. "I'm not too keen on having you skinned alive. How would it be we hang that young lady up again and you be her side? Would that make the punishment fit the crime?"
"Westley, please don't joke. I think it's a horrible idea."
"Okay, you come up with something."
"I can't. Punishment isn't my cup of tea and you know it. Oh, Westley, don't hang Prune up again, she's had enough."
"And what did she do to get herself in this fix in the first place?"
Ginevera told the details. Then she sighed. "If anyone has to be punished I guess it has to be me. Go ahead, Westley, fix my thumbs up there."
"You'd stand for it, wouldn't you? No fighting, no complaint, just obedience." Westley's tone was reverent. "Ginevera, you really are something! Oh, all right, I hang you up by your thumbs. Then what the hell do I do with Prune?"
"I don't know what you do with Prune. Oh, Westley, stop teasing and try to be serious. I think I'm in trouble but I'm sure you could iron it out. Lady Alyth always pays attention to whatever you want. You could ask her to forgive me."
"After I've hung Prune up again?"
"Well, yes, if that's what you want."
"I don't want any of it, you idiot. Come with me, you two idiots, I'm sure my aunt will have a judgment of Solomon I can live with. I'm not sure you two will enjoy it, however."
It could well be called a mixed trio. A cheerful male and two trembling girls. Westley had thoughtfully replaced the handcuffs on the girl with punished thumbs so that she and Ginevera had at least the minimum restraints Trinity called for. Lady Alyth heard her nephew's story and one look at the culprits confirmed every word he said. Wearily she asked, "You're both impossible. What should I do with you now?"
"You don't need to do nothin'," Prune offered. "If was me that was hung up so I suppose you can hang me up again. But I wish you wouldn't."
"And you, Ginevera, what have you to say for yourself?"
"Yes, I'm guilty. I untied her." Ginevera looked around as if seeking support. "I guess you have to punish me."
"It's not me any more, darling, you'll have to ask Westley for your punishment. Really, Ginevera, I'm ashamed of you. Run along and tell Westley to slap your wrist. Stay here, Prune, I want to talk to you."
"You jolly well deserve to be punished, you silly goose," Westley said cheerfully. "I can't disobey Lady Alyth's orders and expect to get away with it. When you saw Prune hung up that way you should have just left her alone and gone on your way."
"I know that now. I know I made a mess of things. Westley, punishment me and get it over with."
"What sort of punishment would Auntie Alyth approve? As far as I'm concerned, both you and Prune should get off Scott free. I enjoy whipping girls but I'm not all that keen about hanging them up by their thumbs or making them sit on a sheet of sandpaper. I don't want to punish you right now but you've got my aunt involved. If she wants me to slap your wrist then I had better do it. Do you still want to marry me?"
"Of course I will. I'll spend the time of my punishment thinking what a wonderful life we're going to have. What are you going to do to me?"
"I don't know." Westley kissed his darling and patted her bottom affectionately. "How would it be I make you stand in a corner with your face to the wall for an hour?" he suggested sardonically. "Would that satisfy honor?"
"I wish it would but I'm afraid Lady Alyth would want something more severe."
"All right then. How about I make you sit on that horse thing for a full five minutes? I'm damned if I'm going to leave you on it any longer."
"I don't think your aunt will be satisfied with anything less than one hour."
"That's terrible. Okay, I'll go and talk to Aunt Alyth myself. But I've always tried to steer clear of interference. But you are the girl I'm going to marry and you shouldn't be treated like all the other girls." He chuckled. "You may as well come along. You can stand and look pretty and bow your head in shame. It won't do any good but I'll have fun watching you do it."
Lady Alyth was alone and busy at her desk. She eyed the embarrassed intruders fondly. "Don't say a word, I know exactly what you want to tell me. Damn it, Westley, you've gone soft on me!"
"Sure I've gone soft but only where Ginevera's concerned. I know I shouldn't butt in but I want you to forgive her. I really don't want to punish the poor girl. By the way, what did you do with Prune?"
"What could I do? She's downstairs again, suspended by her thumbs. I feel a bitch about it but authority has to be maintained. And I'll say this about Prune, she took it very well. She said she understood. Damn it, Westley, your darling Ginevera is the real culprit. She should have left well enough alone."
"Westley doesn't want to punishment me," Ginevera said. "I've asked him to do it and we've talked about it. We're both asking you to fix my punishment yourself and to make sure it's carried out. Maybe this one last time?"
Lady Alyth Hardcastle laughed and shook her head. "Maybe I should be hung up by my own thumbs and let you all watch me suffer. But that wouldn't prove anything, either. Since you've been whipped enough we'll bypass that. But how would you like to stand in the pillory and watch Prune suffer? Seems a neat solution."
"Westley, do please say yes," Ginevera pleaded. "It's letter me off easy. I don't suppose I'll enjoy it but it won't put any more marks on my skin. Darling, please?"
At that moment the phone rang. As Lady Alyth listened to the call her face changed from bright amusement to the gravity of bad news. She motioned for Westley and Ginevera to sit down and wait. The words she was speaking were cryptic but decisive. When done, she looked from one to the other of the expectant faces to say quietly, "Lady Elizabeth has just died of a heart attack. Avon inherits everything. The lawyers are frantic to get hold of her. The funeral will be delayed a few days to give us time." Lady Alyth shrugged. "Westley, you're going to have to go and bring the girl back as fast as you can."
Once more the phone rang. After that call. Lady Alyth was obviously angered. She looked at Ginevera to declare, "That call was from your Ma Bristol. Avon has disappeared and is believed kidnapped. She wants our help."
CHAPTER TEN - Avon's Tale
It's lonely here in the dungeon. I don't suppose Lady Alyth will keep me here too long but it's been a few days. There's also the chains. She'd had me locked in iron with about every restrictive shackle ever invented. I suppose they don't matter because I'm certainly not going anywhere. And there's no one to see how ridiculous I look as I shuffle the few steps my chains allow just to have something to do. All these links make the most wonderful noise and are almost comforting in defeating the awful silence. I keep looking at the huge door, wishing it would open. But it does that only twice a day, then it's only a grim-lipped guard who does what she has to do and then leaves. Oh, shit! I should have handled things differently.
Before she sent me down here Lady Alyth explained that I wasn't really being punished but only being taught a lesson. I can't see much difference myself. I'm seeing my real punishment as having to wear all these chains while I sit on the stone floor to think over and over about being an heiress with millions and millions of pounds, a lovely estate in the country and a townhouse. I'm rich, rich, rich!
But I'm still a poor girl chained in a dungeon and all I have to do to fill the time is to go over and over the events that put me where I am. There's so fresh and vivid I can't stop thinking about them.
It always begins with that old barn, with Jimmy and with Uncle Faucet When Westley showed up with that sheriffs deputy it was close to being the happiest moment of my life. When those two men saved me from Uncle Faucet's whip then took be straight back to Ma Bristol who comforted me over coffee pot and unlocked the padlocks still on my ankles. Everything happened so fast that I found myself very rich and wishing Westley would marry me instead of Ginevera. There was also Lady Alyth's to Ma to come back to England with us and pick herself another girl. I cried a lot into Westley's jacket.
I almost laughed over the deputy's obvious relief when we said we were not going to press charges on either Jimmy or Uncle Faucet. If we signed a complaint, I'm sure his heart wouldn't have been in the job. Apparently the deputy and Uncle Faucet were old friends. I still remember Uncle Faucet's protests, "Hell, all I did was warm up the girl's bottom a little! Ain't no harm in that."
Ma Bristol is kind and wonderfully adaptable. I suppose she didn't have much choice but to release me. But she took the trip to England in her stride. I suspect she was seeing herself making a choice of twenty beautiful young ladies. That idea seemed to please her. I loved my grandmother very much and she must have loved me because she left me everything. We sorted ourselves out and began to feel better. Quickly we found ourselves on the transatlantic plane. Wesley is quite wonderful.
Everybody made fun over the short steps I took. My feet had been hobbled so long it was a while before I could take normal steps. Ma chuckled right along with Westley and said I had been a wonderful prisoner. We told her nothing about my six month sentence and decided to use my need to attend my grandmother's funeral as a means to terminate my captivity. And she would get a brand new girl. I ran over their faces in my mind and wondered which one she would pick.
I made the funeral with time to spare. It was Lady Alyth who took me home afterwards, to Trinity I mean, and not to the old house where I'd be meeting grandma at every turn. And it was Lady Alyth who steered me back and forth among the lawyers who all assured me I was a very lucky young woman to inherit such vast holdings. They all wanted to tell me what to do with it but Lady Alyth steered me clear of those vultures and promised to always be with me in decisions. With Lady Alyth I felt warmly and contented secure.
To Ginevera, Lady Alyth and I, Ma Bristol's fascination with Trinity was a delight. From time to time she dropped in to classroom to find an tremendous emotional attraction to the roomful of chained and naked girls. And in Miss Prelate's tendency to use the cane for the slightest reason. She watched youthful female palms slashed with wicked cuts but, when offered the opportunity to inflict the punishment herself, she declined the honor. "It ain't really my thing," she explained with some embarrassment. "What I really want to see is a girl with her feet chained and them handcuffs things on her wrist. That class of yours is about as beautiful a sight as I've ever seen." Surprisingly, she and Miss Prelate got along remarkably well.
I suppose we should have known that Ma Bristol would select Erin as her choice. She found the darling child's pixie mischief irresistible. Erin was also the youngest member and had a body of such loveliness and future promise I might have chosen her myself. Unfortunately before Lady Alyth had a chance to nip the project in the bud, Ma had explained to a delighted maiden how they would retire to her ranch where Erin's steps would be forever chained and her wrists would wear the same handcuffs as at Trinity. The youthful darling was thrilled at the prospect.
"I don't put much stock in this here caning your hands or whipping your ass," Ma apologized, feeling herself out of step with Trinity's traditions. "But I'll make you dance a pretty tune any time you're bad."
It took all of Lady Alyth's charm to explain the facts of the case to a disappointed horsewoman and sparkling Erin who had to be threatened with three strokes across the palm of each hand unless she stopped pouting. But the incident passed well enough and Ma Bristol continued to prowl in a predatory search for a naked damsel who would sport chained feet.
Throughout this time I suppose I was in an emotional limbo. I had loved Grandma more than I ever realized and, at first, delayed my return to either of the houses in which I had grown up. I feared the memories there. Westley explained that if Ginevera didn't want Prune, I should take her along for company and that every ancestral home needed a slavegirl. I sidestepped the offer, longing instead for Erin, then wondering if Lady Alyth would make me a gift of Audrey Wingate. Audrey was older than I but not much and wore her handcuffs with such sweet submission as to steel my heart. Then I remembered Grandma's stately homes were not the places in which to maintain a chained and naked girl.
I adjusted a bit better with the passing of each day until I decided to stand on my own two feet and take over the personal possession and direction of my estate. With Lady Alyth's help I knew I'd be okay and wondered wistfully that if Westley didn't marry Ginevera, he might marry me. The thought gave me a lovely warm feeling in my pussy. And Lady Alyth, laughingly, agreed that if, for some reason, Westley changed his mind she would happily steer him in my direction. I then told them I thought I should go home sometime in the coming week.
I picked up the vibes instantly with Lady Alyth looking at me oddly as a silence drifted on to become uncomfortable. Finally the owner of Trinity Castle said gently, "Haven't you forgotten something?"
I guessed instantly what it was I had forgotten and cursed myself for loosing the initiative to mention it first. Stupidly, as thought to gain time, I found myself asking what it was I had forgotten.
"You sentence, dear, you've haven't finished it."
This time the silence was my own. It drifted on quite a while before I blurted, "But I thought Grandma's death and ... isn't it sort of canceled?"
"You know it isn't, darling."
"But I thought now that I'm rich ... and there's the estate and I'm over twenty-one...."
"It was your grandmother's wish, dear, that you inherit it along with all the others things. Lady Elizabeth left me with an obligation the same as yours, dear."
"You're not suggesting I go back to the ranch with Ma Bristol!"
"No. She's being very well looked after."
I was blushing and wiggling in my seat and must have looked very disorganized. Lady Alyth took me in her arms to nurse and comfort as she might have done a child.
"It will bother you all your life, Avon, if you don't go through with it. It would bother me, too. Tell me you understand."
"But that's more than two months! It's crazy for a girl like me to accept two month's imprisonment when she doesn't have to." I was well and truly upset.
"You do have to, dear. You know you have to. I think we should go back to the original plan. You will be a member of the Class again. You'll have the girls for company and you'll quickly fit in again."
"With the Miss Prelate caning my hands every day! Please, Lady Alyth, I just don't want to."
"Your upset, Avon. Your hands won't be caned every day unless you deserve it. I won't promise you privileges. But, unless you're a silly girl, you can spend the time pleasantly enough. The girls will envy you tremendously. They'll want to talk about the things you can do at the end of sixty-seven days."
I didn't want to hear. An even worse prospect had taken possession of my mind. In sixty-seven days the rotation would get me whipped five times! "Girls who are millionaires don't get themselves whipped."
"You will, dear. Be proud."
"But, Lady Alyth ... I...." I could hardly believe what I was hearing. "The idea is outrageous. The girls will all laugh at me! No way!"
"Stop being dramatic, dear, and stop feeling sorry for yourself." Lady Alyth's voice was almost sorrowful. "Don't make yourself seem less than your grandmother and I want you to be."
I took a deep breath and knew defeat. Lady Alyth was too much for me and a woman I could never fight. Dully, I heard my voice ask, "When do you want the sixty-seven days to start?"
"Immediately, dear."
"And the rotation whipping?"
Lady Alyth shrugged. "It could be tomorrow, dear, but I much prefer today. When I whip you, you'll discover everything slips into place. When it's over you'll feel better."
The Avon who first came to Trinity would not have believed a word but now, regretfully, I knew it true. It might not make sense but Lady Alyth was right in what she said. Ideas of escape flitted across my mind but no girl can escape from Trinity I reminded myself.
"Do you want me to undress?"
"Yes, of course. I have a pair of handcuffs for you."
Maybe I'm crazy but it actually felt good. I had found clothes stuffy and had been wearing them too long. The nakedness I rediscovered at that moment was an exciting release. Without thinking twice I held out my wrists and got myself firmly handcuffed. It felt good, too. It was like going home. Now that it was too late to bargain, I asked, "When Ginevera and Westley get married I would sure like to be there."
"I'll give you a day's freedom, dear, if you don't mind it being added to your sentence."
I was kissed and hugged and went downstairs. We both laughed when I lost the handcuffs again so my wrists could be strapped up high for the first of the five whippings between me and eventually freedom. I asked to be gagged but Lady Alyth said no, I could scream all I liked, it wouldn't bother her. I made up my mind not to disgrace myself with the sounds and words of a girl in pain. I actually managed pretty well to cope with agony by means of kicks and dancing on air. Lady Alyth's thong brought me up to date on what it was like to be a Trinity slavegirl.
In the aftermath of sweat and tears I kept assuring myself that sixty-seven days wasn't all that bad, and when I went to claim my inheritance I would feel good about it and could then visit Lady Alyth and Erin with an easy conscious. I also wished Westley would take me to bed.
While waiting for Lady Alyth to set me free I found a sensuous pleasure in twisting against my straps. As I amused myself with this special kind of sensuality I felt myself clasped in the grin of Lady Alyth. Handcuffed and with a scolded back and burning bottom, I rejoined the Class as though it was just an ordinary day in the life of an imprisoned girl. I got only a few curious glances and a welcoming nod from Miss Prelate as I found my desk and sat down carefully upon a tender bottom. Everything was very much back to square one.
In the dorm it was different. I became the center of excited chatter and the obvious envy of ever girl except Erin. It did much to make me feel better about my continuing captivity. I stuck out my foot for the guard to shackle my ankle and went to sleep with the feeling that maybe things weren't so bad after all. I should have known better.
Day dreaming was my downfall. I had a lot to dream about, far more than the other prisoners, and I couldn't keep rosy visions from my mind. I thus became dreamy-eyed and inattentive enough to draw Miss Prelate's sharp command, "Avon, repeat our last sentence."
I was sunk, I hadn't a clue. So, of course, I found myself walking those dreaded steps to stand before the Class.
"You have been indulged far too long," she said in her best authoritative tone. "Since your punishment is to be severe, I will remove those handcuffs."
I was trembling. When a girl looses her handcuffs in the Class, she knows she's in trouble. But I stood meekly as they were taken off and wondered how I was going to get through the next five minutes.
"You will extend first you right hand, Avon, and then the left. You will continue to alternate them for a total of six strokes, three on each palm. I want you palms tight and taut as you present them for the cane. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, Miss Prelate, I'm terribly sorry."
"I'm sure you are. Now your first palm...."
The pain was so bloody awful it transformed me from an obedient girl into a wild animal. I kicked Miss Prelate dead center and fled. I had no plan of escape but ran without trouble to one of the rear exits to the garden. It was pure luck that one of the maids had just opened it to go out and pick roses for the lounge. I flashed past her to cross the garden and find the gate out into the park was also open. Once out and beyond I jump in a joyous abandonment to freedom in a way I hadn't run for a long time. Having gotten this far, my mind was now busy with thoughts of climbing the wall and finding my independent freedom anyway I could. After all, I was rich and rich girls can do anything they want.
The park at Trinity is a lovely place with the central feature of a lake and by the time I had sped beyond the water I looked back fearfully over my bare shoulder to find out who pursued and what sort of lead I had. But there were no pursuers. I had the park to myself. It was up to me to take advantage of this and search the wall for a weakness. The wall was far higher than I remembered it. But I had known from the start I would have to find a place where it had crumbled or perhaps where a tree was close enough to offer escape. By now I was panting but still hurrying.
I could drag this out but I won't. I searched the wall for a long time. By the end of it my feet were dragging and I was far too close to the castle to be safe. The wall was solid and any tree that might have helped had been thoughtfully trimmed back. My prison might be wide but I was still a prisoner so I walked far back into the trees where I could not be seen nor see the castle.
I sat down as comfortably as I could and surveyed my future. It was bleak.
I know that sooner or later I would be captured but since I wasn't being chased right now I could take my time in a careful survey of the wall. Tired and discouraged, I got to my feet, not daring to think of what Trinity would do to me if I was caught. By the time I had again completed the long journey around the wall I deleted the "if and replaced it with "when." By the time I had walked around for the rest of the day and the shadows were growing longer and longer, I could imagine Lady Alyth chuckling to herself behind her desk and saying "She'll be back. Just wait until it gets dark!"
The light faded and I became aware of hunger. And the air turned first cool then cold upon my skin. With darkness I saw ghosts every where and dangerous creatures crawling and creeping around the dark grounds. I sat on the grass and wept bitterly to repent the pain I had chosen to evade. Bitterly I blamed my inheritance for giving me false courage and false pride. Without it hovering in the background I would never have kicked Miss Prelate nor made my desperate run. The sixty-seven days would have been painful but would have passed easily enough if I had given them the chance. I wondered if Lady Alyth could now double my sentence or what other punishment I could expect. I had committed an unforgivable act and was more frightened than I had ever been in my life. Sometime in the night I knocked at Trinity's back door.
It was opened by Radcliff, whose only greeting was, "You've made a fine mess of things this time, young lady." I was escorted to Lady Alyth's office where she waited in expectation of my return. I stood before her desk in naked disarray, unable to meet her eyes. I was so overwrought in a conflict of emotions that I sank to my knees to bury my face in her lap and weep. We stayed like that for a long, long time before my mistress whispered softly, "You'll have to be punished, Avon."
"Of course."
"I won't send you back to Miss Prelate."
"Thank you." I had a hard time getting my thanks out between my sobbings.
"Damn it, Avon, I wish you hadn't done this, it's put me in a spot Miss Prelate wants all sorts of things done to you and for certain I owe it to her to give you some sort of punishment. But I don't want to do it in haste, I want to think about it."
I didn't much care. It seemed silly to say thank you again so I just continued to cry until my tears were exhausted.
Both guards responded to Lady Alyth's pushing of the button. Each one took an arm arid led me from the room. I did not fight and felt bitterly guilty about the whole affair, especially its effect on Lady Alyth who had never been anything but kind. But after we'd descended the stone steps and the stone halls to pause before the awful door where Radcliff took the huge key from its hook, I knew it was the dungeon for me. I wanted to plead but knew it would do no good.
They paid no heed. The huge door was pushed open and I was carried across the threshold of doom. One guard held me while the other sorted out the collection of chains that were to make me very much a part of this dungeon. Between the two of them they fastened every limb I had in heavy chains. There was even a metal band around my tummy which cut into my flesh. There was also a collar for my neck. There were shackles for wrists and ankles and even some for my arm above the elbow. And everything was chained to everything else. I could hardly stand with all that weight of iron on me. Then a final chain was padlocked to my collar with a modern lock at one end and the other locked to a ring in the wall. That chain gave me a run of perhaps five feet in a circle around the ring. My bottom was patted and they left me alone and slammed the door.
I had used up all my tears, I had no more. There isn't much to do when you are a prisoner in a dungeon. I played with my chains and explored the tiny amount of freedom I had. I shuffled this way and that until my neck collar snubbed me to a halt. I sighed a lot.
While I was still fumbling with the heavy links an easily recognizable voice spoke from the darkest shadows of my dungeon. "What the hell did you do to get yourself in this jackpot, honey? Boy, oh boy, have they got your fixed."
It was Prune!
I don't suppose I have words to describe my flood of thankfulness. I was not alone and at that moment having a companion was all that mattered. I turned to where Prune rose up from the floor and right away considered her a lucky girl to wear only the handcuffs on her wrists. We hugged each other in a mutual need while I told Prune of the events which had brought me here. She laughed and called it the crime of the century. But she went on to complain of the raw deal she was getting because, "I ain't done nothing wrong, sugar. That there Prelate bitch was mad at me. I only been here a few hours but until you showed up I was scared shitless."
It helped a lot to thing that Lady Alyth had not really put me alone in the dungeon. She knew I'd have company and that would make my punishment easier to take.
Prune then casually inquired whether she should french me or I should french her!
In the morning when I got my dungeon ration crust of bread Prune was led away. This time when the door closed I was well and truly alone.
I suppose you could say I've caught up with myself now. And I'm now lamenting the girl who had entwined herself around my chained nakedness for the warmth and affection we imparted to each other. It isn't like that now. All I've got is four stone walls and goodness knows how many pounds of iron.
I don't know how long I'm in here for. I can't outguess Lady Alyth and I can't escape. The stones are silent. It's hard being alone and I'm sure I'll become a raving lunatic if I'm ignored too long. But I needn't have worried because along about bedtime the door opened and Ginevera was thrust inside to keep me company.
After the thudding of the bolts we entangled our bodies as best my chains allowed and I learned Ginevera was with me because she wanted to make my stay in the dungeon as bearable as possible.
"I've been locked in here myself," she said. "I know what it's like and I know about those chains. In the middle of the night a girl knows she's going to die here." She laughed. "I had little trouble persuading Lady Alyth to let me come." She held up both hands. "Look, I'm only handcuffed. I can do the things you can't. Let's cuddle for the night."
Ginevera did not become apprehensive until noon of the following day. She admitted that one reason she had so easily gained entry to my dungeon was that Westley was away for a couple of days. When she asked Radcliff why she had to stay here she got only a shrug and by the time night came around again was frankly anxious. It was now my time to do the comforting.
After another dismal night upon the stone we were both scared. The night and the following day helped not at all, especially when we asked Radcliff what we might expect. She told us quite honestly she had no idea. So far as she was concerned we were a couple of naughty girls who were being punished and we had best accept that punishment with good graces. She gave extra emphasis to thudding the bolts when she locked the door.
Ginevera and I sat through our solitary day. But then at night it was Westley who gave us back our lives when he came back to pick up his bride-to-be, admitting without a blush that his bed was cold. Then he doubtfully looked at me to ask if we knew where the key was to unlock our hardware. I hadn't the faintest idea but Westley was wise enough to find the key. In a few minutes I stood free and untroubled with irons. Westley, however, was Lady Alyth's nephew and put it to me straight.
"Look, sweetheart, I'm going to screw Ginevera six different ways. But, if you want to be chained to the wall with a long enough chain that you can sleep on the rug beside our bed, you're welcome. Otherwise you'd best stay right here and I'll lock those chains back on."
It was a joyous moment and the freedom of my limbs was wonderful. "I don't mind what you do with me," I told him in total sincerity. "I'd love to be chained to the wall in your bedroom. And if you tell me sometimes to hide my eyes, I'll be glad to. Should I be handcuffed?"
Everything was wonderful. Ginevera glowed, Westley glowed, and I was alight with thankfulness. I knelt beside his bed to have the collar locked upon my neck with it's loop of chain connecting me to the wall. Without a word I extended my arms and said very simply, "You mustn't forget the handcuffs, Westley. If I'm not properly secured, Lady Alyth will be unhappy."
Westley was delighted by my submission and put the handcuffs on my wrists one notch too tight. He then plunged into bed where Ginevera lay waiting, naked and laying upon her arms tightly bound behind her back at wrists and elbows in Westley's much-beloved ropes. I was left to my freedom. I watched only long enough to bring tears of envy to my eyes then laid myself upon the rug and tried to go to sleep.
