The search revealed nothing. The girl growing frantic with urgency had explored every nook and cranny of the ancient bam but found no tool or rock with which to pound a padlock into yielding liberty. Jill Prospect stood in the open doorway at the limit of her tether and disgustedly beheld rocks aplenty but all well beyond reach. The links around her waist had been drawn unkindly tight and the pendent padlock mocked the tugs and twists of angry fingers. The other end of the long chain was anchored around one of the poles of the ancient roof. Two padlocks, a length of chain, and a frightened girl. The old barn lay sleepily in the Irish air and gave no sympathy.
She knew him only as Fingal. While cinching her waist in chain, he had explained the necessity of keeping her prisoner. She had seen too many faces and heard too many names. It would not be safe for The Cause to let her go free. It was hard to see Fingal or his followers as murders, and they satisfied their own conscious by killing four The Cause. Jill sighed in exasperation. This was Ireland!
She could not relax. Trailing her metal bond, she searched again. Fingal had told her he'd be back to pick her up in a couple hours but, as the afternoon wanes, she wondered how much of what he had said was simply Blarney. And would she remain chained in the old bam overnight? Or longer, until some searchers discovered the make-shift prison and took her back to normalcy. She was resigned to the loss of her car, Fingal had driven it away.
The prisoner of the padlock kicked a pile of straw against the wall and sat sadly against the wall to await her fate. It would be miserable to stay as she was for the night but, if that meant Fingal had abandoned her, it would be worth the misery. Jill Prospect had no sooner come to that conclusion then Fingal's shadow darkened the doorway to stare her at her dour satisfaction.
"So you're still here, lass, I thought you might be gone."
Jill got to her feet and shook her chain at him angrily. "You have to be kidding. This beastly thing would hold an elephant. Please let me loose."
"You're finding it a wee bit tight. Miss Prospect?" He would have searched her handbag and thus found her name.
Angrily tossing her head, she retorted, "You know its too tight. Get me out of it."
He was infuriatingly casual. But actually produced a key and a moment later the weight of links she had carried so long fell noisily to the ground. Gratefully she rubbed the circle and guessed wryly she would bear the marks for a while. "Thank you, that's a great deal better." She tried to match his casualness. "I hope you've had different thoughts about that nonsense about keeping me prisoner. Can I go now?"
It evidently too silly a question to answer. Fingal had produced thin cord and abruptly demanded, 'Turn around, hands behind your back."
It was as frightening as the chain. The waiting man could not fail to feel the sincerity of her plea, "Look, you don't need to tie me. I don't want to be tied. You're just being melodramatic."
"Practical is a better word, lass. Can't afford to have you running around loose." We Jill made no effort to obey, he warned, "I can put you face down in the straw, kneel on your back, and tie your hands and there's nothing you can do about it. Is that what you want?"
It was not what she wanted. But she harbored no doubts about his ability to do exactly as he wished. She had already discovered she was no match for his strength-if he wanted her bound, he would have her bound. But still she put it off. "Can't you understand how hateful it is?" she asked. "Being tied up like an animal. Please don't tie my hands. Look, can't I make a promise not to run?"
"Stop your nattering and turn around."
Fingal stood between her and the door. It was hopeless. With a sob of surrender Jill Prospect presented her back, her wrists neatly crossed. She longed to scream.
"Sensible girl," he said as cord bite savagely at defenseless wrists, looped and wrapped again and again until the final knot. The girl in process of loosing her hands stood straight and taut and breathing heavily. She had never in her life been bound, nor made such abject surrender to a man. Jill was thankful that, for the moment, he could not see her heaving breasts.
"Stand still, it's only a collar I'm locking on your neck. It will be easier on you than if I used a rope noose."
Instinctively the girl realized this would be the way of it from now on. With hands tight bound behind her back, she became a passive creature, subject to whatever humiliation Fingal chose to impose. The leather collar was snug upon her neck and fastened a small padlock. "Is it the collar of a dog you've locked on me?" she demanded as a leash was snapped to the lock. "This is ridiculous!"
"It's damned becoming, lass, you're a pretty girl." Fingal gave a small tug to demonstrate his new mastery. "See how convenient it is? Come along now, we'd best be going."
Feminine steps were hesitant until an firm tug on her collar told Miss Jill Prospect of a male possession of her person such as she had even imagined. A couple more tugs left no doubt what she must do. In docile obedience she walked beside the man who held her leash.
Fingal's car was an nondescript as Fingal's clothes. Both were well designed to blend within the Irish scene. Jill demanded, "What have you done with my car? Can I consider it stolen?"
"Consider it your donation to The Cause, luv. 'Tis a generous gift you've made, my pretty, and it's much appreciated."
"I wouldn't give that rotten Cause of yours the time of day, let alone my car. And you know it. I hate... " The harsh male hand and its slap upon her cheek do not knock Jill to the ground but stung. "You'll be watching your tongue when you speak of holy things, lass. Any more of the English lip and I'll be hurting you, so I will. You'd best remember."
The blow was like her bound hands and collared neck, an unbelievable act by which the captive girl knew the limits beyond which she must not transgress. Miss Jill Prospect was under control.
Seated in the car, Fingal leaned across the flushed anger girl to tie the end of the leash to the door handle. "Given time and opportunity you could get it loose with your teeth," he conceded, "but if I catch you working at it with your teeth, you'll wish you hadn't. Sit still and enjoy." The Irish scene is rarely spectacular but never without charm. In her four day's tour on Irish soil, Jill Prospect had not seen very much of it yet.
She would have found the journey pleasant had she not been a prisoner and with hurting wrists. Jill would have liked to have complained but the blow had taught her a lesson and she was determined not to provoke the use of more restraint or force. Her feet were free, and if she had a chance, she would use them to flee, even with her hands tied as they were. Every moment must no be alert to possibly.
Listlessly, she said, "It's a beautiful country, I could become fond of it if I had the chance. Or if... Well, never mind."
"I'd like you to remember a couple of things." Fingal turned to grin at the girl. "You're not going to be raped. At least not yet. We'll sort of keep that for a last resort. The Cause respects women even though we do shave an occasional head if its owner lacks the sense to keep her hair and her tongue." Once again the friendly smile. "I don't have a prison to lock you in so most of the time you'll be tied or on a chain. Sorry, lass, but that's the way of it."
"Where are you taking me?"
"To a place that's safe enough for the time being. You'll be moved from time to time. We're never left alone too long."
"How long do you intend to keep me prisoner?"
"I can't tell you that, either. I simply don't know. It's unlikely you'll be free in a week."
"My family will be frantic."
"We'll let you write them a letter. I'll read it before posting it. You'd best be careful what you say. I had it posted from across the water... Just to keep them guessing."
The bound girl considered her position and considered herself less frightened than she should have been. Something about this ancient land had an air of whimsy about it and made it hard to take even terrible things seriously. But the ropes cutting into the flesh of her wrists was very real, as she reminded herself. Hating it, she still managed to understand the practicality of the collar on her neck. Putting herself in Fingal's place, she could have done no less.
"I'm a prisoner," she said, "and prisoners do have the right to attempt escape, don't they... ? I mean, you wouldn't punish me for trying, would you?"
"You'd be well and truly punished, lass, but only as a deterrent. They're be no malice. We're a friendly lot when we're at home." Fascinated by a curiosity beyond reason, Jill asked, "What would the punishment be? What would you do to me?"
Fingal chose to treat it as joking. "For a minor offense, my girl, you'd have to lower your panties, bend down and get six swift ones across your pretty little seat. If you made a fuss you'd be tied."
"That's uncivilized!"
"Are you sure about that, luv? My grandparents were both caned that way in school. I think it's still being done here and there." He gave her an acute sideways glance. "I'm told there's girls who enjoy it."
"I'm not one of them. I think it's disgusting."
"For serious offenses," Fingal continued, "you'll loose your clothes and get strung up for an honest-to- goodness flogging. Nothing medieval, of course, but you'll be well marked. I strongly advise against making that happen."
Jill found herself twisting at tied wrists and she fought down a mental vision of herself enduring what Fingal described. If only he would stop the car and go away on some errand and leave her alone long enough to deal with the tether, she would flee for her life. Thinking of the possibility, she could almost feel the pounding of her feet as she fled. Primly, she said, "Thank you for telling me, it's just as well I know. But, if I get a chance to escape, I will, and you can do what you damned well please about it."
"That's my girl! I would have expected you to say nothing less. I will be a gentlemen and I expect you'll find the opportunity to get your pretty skin striped. I'm told it's extremely painful."
Jill sniffed and fell silent. Her immediately future seemed dark. Fingal had undoubtedly killed people, yet, seated beside him now, she felt no fear of him, only of the situation and of the unknown men who would also be her jailers. When Fingal stopped the car in the parking lot of a rustic pub, it seemed too good to be true. "I'm getting myself an ale," he told her without concern. "Can I bring you something?"
"How about a double whisky? Scotch, not Irish."
"Okay, it's a deal. But remember, I'll expect you to be here when I come back."
Jill watched him leave, her heart pounding painfully. Immediately he was out of sight, she leaned down to employ her teeth on the leash, fighting the leather thong feverishly in a terrible need, and finally freeing it from the handle of the door. She looked up to find Fingal surveying her with amused tolerance and holding her double whiskey on one hand, and his watch in another. "Four minutes, sweetheart," he said admiringly. "I'm proud of you. Here take a good swallow of this." He held the potent drink against Jill's lips.
Miss Jill Prospect gulped avidly before accusing, "It was a trap, wasn't it? You wanted to see if I really would. Give me another gulp before you tell me what will be my punishment."
Jill's second swallow almost emptied the glass.
"Just what I told you, sweetheart. I'll consider it a minor infraction so you will get the minor punishment. I can't do it here at the pub but when we get where we're going, you'll bare your cute ass and get your ten stripes. It's a nice, modest beginning. Here, finish your drink."
Jill obeyed, longing for enough of the drink to make her appreciate Irish humor. She then watched Fingal once more tie her leash to the door handle, this time she was certain it was twice as tight as before. When he vanished from sight with the empty glasses, she sat fuming impotently, shamefully aware of impending punishing and not daring to strive for freedom again. This time it would take her teeth twice as long to free the leash. She longed to cry and was angry with the whiskey for giving her no help at all.
When Fingal returned, he made apology. "I would have taken you in with me, luv, but there's a few in there I'm not sure about. They would have seen your tied hands and jumped to conclusions."
"You didn't have to take me in there tied, I would have walked beside you. Even if my hands were free, I know when I'm beaten."
Fingal laughed away my comments. "It worked fine the way it was, sweetheart," he said. "From now on with you it's going to be half a loaf is better than no bread. In other words, be thankful for small mercies. Looking forward to your ten with the cane?"
"I can't believe you'll do it. I'm sorry, but I just can't believe it. In any case, please don't."
"You know I will."
Jill twisted tied wrists helplessly and looked at the tied leash with disgust. She was in a crazy state of disbelief. Thrusting the outrageous vision from her mind, she asked, as quietly as she could, "My parents are rich. Why don't you let them ransom me? They'd willingly pay your price and I'd be back home in a couple of days. Please don't take me where I'm going to be whipped and chained. I never did you any harm."
Fingal was delighted with his prize. Jill Prospect would provide endless entertainment. Her rebellions against authority would keep him constantly amused, and there were those who would loyally watch over her while he was away on business. She could be released in a few months when the present danger was passed, and The Cause would gain honor in the fact that her own true travail would be marked skin. Laughingly he asked himself what a few scarlet and purple stripes on a girl's skin mattered to ancient enemies. Jill's voice broke into his thoughts.
"I suppose you know my wrists are hurting horribly?"
Fingal turned the car into a dirt track for a hundred yards or so, then stopped. He opened the door to which Jill's leash was tied and invited, "Step down a minute, my pretty one, I'm going to give you something to complain about."
Even though fearful of what was to happen, she obeyed, knowing herself in no position to complain. Without releasing the tether, Fingal turned her around and looped rope around bare elbows.
"Oh, no, please don't!" Jill's plea was urgent. "Please don't tie me any more. I only told you my wrists were hurting so you'd know. I thought maybe you could tie them a different way."
"And so I can, my pretty one." Fingal swiftly freed the cords and, placing the imprisoned hands palm to palm, bound them tight again while their owner fought back tears. He then resumed the binding of the elbow, clamping them together hard enough that Jill's forearms were welded tight together and so the bite of cords would be a constant reminder not to complain. With the final knot, he inquired. "Well, there you are, you silly girl. How's that?"
"It's horrible, it really is! Oh, please don't make me sit like this."
"Would you sooner run behind?"
"You know that's not what I meant. Please show a little mercy, I can't possibly endure this."
"You can and you will. Up you get, back in the seat. Here, I'll give you a hand."
It was hateful and demeaning. Jill longed to wipe away a tear but she know Fingal saw it trickle down her cheek. The stricture she now bore within bare skin precluded any thought of escape. In addition, she was conscious that her elbows so bound thrust her breasts outward outrageously, a protrusion her companion commented upon without shame.
"Your tits are showing, luv. You've got a lovely set, and I'll be looking at them when the time comes. You must be a proud girl."
"Proud! Like this! You're shaming me completely so I want to die."
"You don't want to die, and if you feel shamed, it's no more than you should. Tied elbows are simply a good way to control as girl. You're not the first one who's had them corded together. Now, let's go."
The captive of The Cause kept a solemn silence. The helplessness of her condition seeped deeper and deeper into her mind with each revolution of the car's wheels. When, at the end of a rutted lane, they came to the isolated farmhouse, Miss Jill Prospect was led by a leather leash to meet the farmer, a stout adherent to The Cause, his wife and daughter, undoubted similarly pledged to The Cause, They accepted her with pure joy.
"I can't tell how long you'll be stuck with her," Fingal said without concern. "You know how to keep her safe. And young Moira has my permission to amuse herself. She's always wanted an English bitch at the end of a rope, so here she is." He glared at the daughter of the house. "If you let her get away, I'll flay you alive."
"Amen to that," said the farmer with deep approval, supplemented by his wife's nod. "You needn't worry, Fingal, Moira will keep her safe enough and teach her a few good, Irish lessons to boot. And, anyway I'll be keeping an eye on them both. How about a bite before you go?"
For the captive girl it was a miserable meal. Her leash was tied to the table leg, and Moira, sitting close, fed her as she might have fed a dog. Miss Jill Prospect ate hungrily but without hope. When the meal was done, she was made to earn her keep. The cords were, taken from wrists and elbows, and she was made to wash the dishes. From somewhere a long, thin riding crop had made its appearance and was hung where she could not fail to see it.
"You wouldn't be thinking of disobeying us, now would you?" the farm woman asked mockingly. "When you're through with the dishes, Moira will be tying you up again." She sighed delightedly. "You're such a lucky girl."
It was one of the moments Jill was to come to know all too well. The command to which she turned and surrendered her arms behind her back. Moira placed the passive hands palm to palm, bound them needlessly tight, and then advanced to the elbows which still held marks from their earlier imprisonment. The somewhat thicker cord bit deep and viciously as Ireland got its revenge on English flesh. When Jill was turned around by youthful hands, she knew herself more cruelly tied than with Fingal in the car.
Fingal was there and had not forgotten. "She gets ten with the cane," he said as if imparting good news. "She earned them on the way here. Look after it, Moira, we'll watch."
It was hard to see them as enemies but they were certainly not friends. The Irish eyes smiled in anticipation of things to come. Moira said helpfully, "I'll take your panties off for you, dear. You can't do it yourself. Not the way I've tied you. You'd best not make a fuss."
The tied girl about to be taught her lesson stood with flaming cheeks as the daughter of the house tugged the panties down to where she could step out of them. When Moira had plucked them from the floor, Jill stood miserably to await what came next.
"Bend down, dear, Moira is going to cane your bottom. She'll lift your skirt so you can hold it while she gives you the strips." The farm woman sounded as though bestowing gifts.
Looking around her at four pairs of laughing eyes, Miss Jill Prospect knew herself incapable of such indignantly. It might be inflicted on her by force but she could never willing concede such a baring of her skin for punishment. It was bizarre! She heard herself saying, "I'm sorry, but I can't possibly do what you ask. I think you're being totally unreasonable."
"Perhaps you'll be telling us why?"
"It's indecent, that's why. To bare myself with two men watching, and then to be whipped by a girl who is a teenager. It's... It's... I'm sorry but I just can't."
"We do understand, dear. Young Moira feels the same way when she earns a caning, and so do a lot more young girls I know. 'Tis an easy probably to deal with, Miss Prospect. You can bend over yourself for ten or get twenty if you insist on being tied."
With efficiency created by practice, the farmer tossed a rope over a beam and the end .was lowered behind Jill where it was quickly tied to that around her wrists. The rope was pulled and Jill's arms went up high behind her back, forcing her to bend forward in the manner she had refused. Moira thoughtfully provided a safety pin to pin her skirt high up, revealing a delightfully curved and smooth bottom. Jill moaned in the sudden realization of a punishment about to begin, a punishment she had not thought she would really get.
She could scarcely move but managed to look from side to side at those who now beheld her naked flesh. From somewhere Moira had produced a long, wicked length of cane which she was flexing reflectively and happily from hand to hand. Suddenly and swiftly she struck the first of twenty strokes.
It was not Miss Jill Prospect's day. Never in her whole life had she been bound or gagged or whipped. The mere idea of such things was unthinkable, things that never, never happen except to other people far away. The maiden had little experience of pain and Moira's first slash across the two innocent mounds imposed a degree of agony their owner could scarce believe. Jill was suddenly transformed into straining and jerking mass of muscles which could move little but tried very hard to get away. She fought for a freedom the ropes denied. Pain spread outward from her bottom as a burning to make her totally aware of a feminine sex made clearly visible to watching eyes. She was positive her female lips and venus mound had been thrust into an obscene exposure. She moaned and moaned again and tried to scream but the tight-bound panties in her mouth imposed a silence against which she bore her agony without effective complaint.
"Isn't she positively gorgeous, Mummy," Moira breathed in ecstasy. "Mummy, dear, how long do you want me to pause between each stroke?"
"Give her time to catch her breath, count to ten." It was the authority of Fingal's voice. No doubt Moira made her own silent count between the swing and swish of lithe young arm and the whining sound of the cane cutting the air before implanting itself upon the waiting skin. Jill counted also in fearful anticipation of the stroke to come. Weaving her hips hopelessly and striving stressed arms against the tether from above. When they reached the count of five Moira paused.
"You're doing fine, sweetheart." It was Fingal's voice. "Carry on the way you're going until you reach the count of ten, that's the time for pause."
Agony piled itself on agony. Jill was certain her bottom must be cut to shreds as the strokes sped by. At that moment Moira was undoubtedly the happiest girl in Ireland, while Jill made muffled sounds. She remembered reading somewhere of a girl's arms being drawn up behind her back in this fashion. It was a medieval torture called the Strappado. But now did no more than keep her positioned of the next stroke, never final but forever going on and on. As from a great distance she heard Fingal's voice. "If you'd been sensible, sweetheart, it would not be over. You've had your ten strokes and that would have been all if you'd been willing to bend over and bear your bottom. Do you get the message?"
Incoherent sounds behind the gag told him that, indeed, Miss Jill Prospect had gotten the message. The pathetic sounds fought the soaking wet panties until the inquisitors voice sounded the second half of punishment. "Carry on, Moira. Make them as hard as you can."
Agony returned and consumed Miss Jill Prospect utterly.
After the twentieth stroke had found her flesh and her punishment done, the left the punishing girl exactly as she was, no doubt so she could consider her misdeeds and the penalties they would extract. Before leaving her alone, Fingal said quietly, "Think about it, Miss Prospect, what you've just suffered need not have happened. It need never happen again if you've got any sense."
The two men and two women who had witness Jill's humiliation went to the front room to watch the telly and left their captive to reflect upon the wisdom of doing what she was told. At the moment. Miss Jill Prospect would have obeyed anything rather than suffer the cane again.
They left her alone for an hour, during which time she tried to shift her weight from one foot to another and ease the stress upon raised arms. It was all quite useless and she suffered through the sixty minutes. Her bottom was a constant bum, a part of herself terribly aflame, which she longed to comfort with tender fingers. But this, too, was denied, and when Moira finally returned. Miss Jill Prospect was a pliant prisoner without will or wish for other than what her captors might demand. In her present condition, even thoughts of escape fled from her mind.
"Gosh, Miss Prospect, I wish you could see yourself." Moira was enthusiastic at the sight of purple stripes and puffed up weals. "Gosh, I sure did a job on you."
Jill failed to be amused, but humbly asked, "Could I please have my arms let down now? They're hurting."
Moira slapped the two wounded rounds playfully. "Not half as much as these, I'll bet. Your frock is still pinned up, so how'd it be I let down your arms and we go to my bedroom where there's a mirror? You simply must get a look at your pretty arse."
From sounds in the other room, it seemed probably her captors had opened a bottom to celebrate victory. Moira and her captive were alone and when her arms fell back into place and she was able to stand erect, Jill uttered a heart-felt thank you, and stood there with her bared bottom to await her captor's pleasure. "I am keeping your hands tied behind your back. Miss Prospect, but I'm holding on to the leash of your collar, so don't try any tricks." Moira was relishing authority. "Come along."
It was shaming and frightening and strangely erotic. Jill twisted and strained bound arms to get the best possible view of the punished portion of herself in Moira's mirror. It was hard to believe that what she beheld was her own bottom, the one she had had since birth. It was so crisscrossed by the imprints of the cane that Moira's summation was as close as anyone could come, "I done a real good job, Miss Prospect. Look at all them lovely purple lines. I hope it hurt something awful, it was suppose to."
The raised skirt was an shaming as the bruised flesh itself. Having seen all she wanted to see, Jill did what seemed least likely to give offense. She straightened up to face the girl who held her leash. "Thank you.
Moira, you did a wonderful job and I'm quite sure your parents will be proud of you. If it's really of interest to you, I can certainly say it hurt and it's still hurting. What would you like me to do now?"
"We'll go and join the rest, Miss Prospect. There'll be a toast or two and I'm sure they'll give you a drink."
They went back downstairs. The kitchen door was still open to the mild, moist benison of the Irish evening. The air, scented from the garden, struck the captive girl with a blow of longing. Jill Prospect wanted no Irish cream or home brewed "white lightning." She wanted only freedom, which seemed now so distant. But like a whipped bitch she followed the leash.
It happened swiftly. Moira made a squeal of disgust, "Damn it, I've got to run back upstairs. Look, you're not going to be silly enough to run away, are you?" She didn't went for an answer but fled from the kitchen. For a moment the girl with tied hands and collared neck stood in disbelief but only for a moment. Without pause for thought, Jill leaped for the door and then beyond, into the scent of flowers.
Two things were uppermost in her mind. She must stay away from the roads they would surely use to follow her. And the conviction she had best flee across the fields and run until she could run no more. In a wild exhilaration, Jill's feet flashed, taking her on to freedom.
The field was pasture land, horses and cattle gazed without interest at a speeding maiden who's skirt was still pinned up high, exhibiting curves of punished flesh.
Jill's frantic effort accentuated the bum and scold of whipped skin. But the fleeing girl was scarcely conscious of her shame or the pain. She was thankful Moira had removed the gag, flight demanded the full capacity of her lungs. As she ran, she formulated a modest plan of action. She could thrust no one, so the best thing she could do was run across the fields until exhausted, then seek a hiding place where she could work to free her hands and await a police patrol. It was a long shot but it was her only chance.
She had little hope of freeing the cords with which she was bound, but she would probably have time on her hands and perhaps she could find a sharp rock, or bit of iron to rub the cords on. She had had no reason to think about it previously but a girl with hands tied tight behind her back was close to being as helpless as a girl could be. She was positive she was not running as swiftly as she might have had her hands been free. She traversed the space of two Irish pastures before she saw the hedge of a type to tell of a road sunken by centuries of use. By then Jill was panting and exhausted but knew herself too close to the farmhouse to be safe. She would rest a moment in the ditch then continue. It would not be safe to make herself known to anyone during the night for she could not tell if they were friend of foe. The hedge was solid but she soon found the offset posts which gave entry and exit. Wiggling through them she came face to face with disaster.
"I figured you'd come this way!" It was Fingal's laughing voice from the dark bulk of the old car she had not seen. "Welcome back, I expect you'll be glad of the rest."
Jill's first instinct was to turn and run again. But what was the use? He could catch her easily, and she was too tired to fight. She knew her effort to escape had been a sadly pathetic thing without much hope. But there would surely be penalties for attempted escape... !
"Don't stand there gawking, luv, get in the car and sit down." She did not instantly obey. The whole thing had seemed too cruel to bear. She twisted angrily at tight bound wrists to say without hope, "Please don't take me prisoner again. Please untie my hands and let me go. You're silly to think I could do you harm. I couldn't, not even if I tried." Her voice was swallowed by the darkness.
"Come here, you little idiot. I'll undo that safety pin of Moira's so you arse isn't sticking out for everyone to see. Stop being silly."
First one step and then another. She knew that inevitably she must return to prison, that, in fact, she never left it. Miss Jill Prospect stood beside the open door and turned her back to enable an Irish outlaw by the name of Fingal to lower her skirt to hide a bottom most soundly whipped. "Moira's a good girl, she did a good job on you. You've learned a lesson, even though you don't think so." It was Fingal's only comment on her punishment.
It hurt to sit but Jill scarcely noticed, she was far too concerned with other things and the threat uppermost in her mind. Pressing her face against Fingal's rough shoulder as he drove, Jill unloosed a flood of tears and sobbed as though her heart would break, a demonstration of feminine weakness Fingal endured for several minutes until uttering gruffly, "Stop it, girl. Tears never cured anything. I won't be influenced by them so you might as well sit up and we'll talk. You'd like to talk, wouldn't you?"
Her captor's voice had been gruff but not unkind. Jill used his sleeve on which to dry her final tears then sat up erect and sniffed unhappily.
"Look, sweetheart, you can't get loose, don't even try. You're just as well off with your hands the way they are. I've got you and there's no way you're going to run back to the police with what you have to tell. By the way, we won't be going back to the farmhouse. I told them I'd pick you up and take you home with me. If you show some sense, you can sleep in a soft bed."
"Where are you taking me?"
"It will probably be a surprise. You are going to be a guest of the nobility. Every hear of Rintoule Castle?"
"I seemed to remember it somewhere on a map. Are you going to throw me into a dungeon?"
"Depends on you, luv. A girl tossed into a dungeon isn't much good to anyone, not even herself. But the castle does have a very nice dungeon."
"You're treating me horribly. You took me prisoner this morning and since then I've been tied and gagged and whipped. Now we're talking about dungeons. Can't you imagine how I feel?"
The old car slowed to a halt. Fingal produced a bottle. "Sorry, lass, I'm a damned poor host." He held the bottle to her lips. "Drink as long as you want. Drink the whole bottle if it pleases you. Yes, I do know how you feel. I'm not fool enough to believe you're going to be happy. Let's look at it this way, you've simply been unlucky. And you'll be held prisoner for a while and then you'll go back to your family and everything will be just the way it was. I promised you won't be raped, what the hell else is there to worry about?"
"You told me about punishments and I've had the first. That girl, Moira, practically flayed my bottom with that cane. Now I suppose you'll flog me because I ran away." The young voice trailed away into a sob.
"Stop that, I can't stand a girl crying and you're not going to manipulate me with tears. You can forget it about being flogged. I only captured you this morning and you've had no time to adjust. Young Moira and her cane have given you an idea what to expect if you refuse to accept what's happened. Damn it, girl, I didn't want to be saddled with you. I don't want the job of keeping you a prisoner. Can't you understand, you're a bloody nuisance. Dry those tears we'll talk about the dog races." Jill say his logic. The very violence of his outburst made it credible. She heard herself say, meekly, "Very well, so I'm your prisoner. But please don't give me opportunities to escape then punishment me terribly for trying to go home. All I want to do is go home and surely that's not so bad."
Fingal put the bottle away and restarted the car.
Rintoule Castle had been completely modernized without detracting from its outward appearance of slow decay. The family was rich with English investment, but contrived to remain in favor with The Cause by gifts of cash and a limited sanctuary for those in need. It was also a convenient prison for the enemies of an ancient land. At the moment Fingal was privileged guest, having the run of a refurnished wing plus the use of certain facilities referred to as "downstairs." Fingal and the captive girl left their little car at the front steps, a truly impressive flight of ancient stone, and watched the little vehicle driven out of sight by a retainer who actually wore livery.
"We do things right here," Fingal told his captive. "Come along and remember I can jerk your head off with this leash. You can meet the family tomorrow, for this evening it's just you and I."
Awed, Jill followed where she was lead. She had given up tugging at bound wrists. If she got them loose, they would just be replaced with something worse. She was annoyed at herself for beginning to see Fingal as a person, a male who, under other circumstances, she might have liked. He possessed a streak of wry humor she admired and knew herself capable of matching had it not carried a threat of punishment. Perhaps the punishments would leave the picture and they could be friends. Or, as close to friends as a captor and captive could ever be. It was the best she could hope for.
Everything spelt money, money, money. And more money. Fingal lead her through hallways and up and down stairs as if he owned the place to his wing, which was twenty times the space of an average house. There was even a modem kitchen. When Fingal mentioned food, Jill offered to prepare it if he would untie her hands. Unexpectedly, he did so, showing her then the contents of cupboards, and sitting himself down to watch like a hungry husband. Irritated but grateful for this freedom, Jill thrust escape from her mind and found a strange happiness in the task of feeding her lord and master. She was very hungry and first set about a pot of American coffee to counter the potent effect of the whiskey she had taken in the car.
"You're sensible." Fingal spoke as if assessing her quality as a domestic or as a wife. "Maybe I shouldn't ever let you go, you could be useful." Jill ignored the implications, wishing this strange man could understand her need of home. But she made the meal as well as she could and severed them both at the table. Brightly she inquired, "You said I was as bloody nuisance, and I'm sure I am. So what are you going to do with me?" She managed a grin before adding, "I don't get punished for asking that, do I?" Fingal laughed at her concern. "Forget it," he told her easily, "You're not going to be flogged. That escape attempt of yours was too damned silly to deserve anything, except maybe a spanked bottom. And young Moira did a pretty good job on that already. This is a good supper, all things considered."
"Thank you for not punishing me." It sounded a foolish thing for an adult woman to say but Jill was grateful. She bit into a slice of toast before asking, "So after supper, what are you going to do with me?"
"You're a problem. You're not for rape or ransom. And there's no secret code or hidden treasure I have to persuade you to reveal. I can't be your jailer all the time, so you'll be looked after by someone else a lot of the time."
"Looked after?"
"Don't play the innocent, you know you'll have to be restrained."
Jill Prospect groaned inwardly. Being free to fix and eat the meal had restored a pleasant normalcy she had hoped would last. In protest she exclaimed, "But you can't keep me tied up all the time!"
"Don't see why not. What else could I do with you?"
"You could set me free. This whole business of keeping me a prisoner is silly."
Fingal did not answer her but changed to other topics of conversation until the dishes were finished. Then he inquired, "Ready for bed?"
"Yes, I'm tired." Jill paused uncertainly.
A firm grip upon her arm led Miss Jill Prospect to a bedroom, obviously male. The commend was curt. "Get undressed, let's have a look at you."
"I can't, not with you watching. Surely you have another bedroom?"
"You'll share this one with me."
"You said I wouldn't be raped."
"That's right, I won't use force. You'll give yourself willingly or not at all. Get undressed."
Captor and captive stared in confrontation. "I can't see much difference," Jill said defensively. "I won't do it."
Fingal shrugged. "It's your choice," he said carelessly. "If you'll got any sense, you'll chose the bed with me. It's a very comfortable bed. The other alternative is a stone floor."
She stood, flushed and hating every moment, baffled by Fingal's casual attitude. Humbly, she tried to explain, "I'm sorry, but I absolutely can't do what you ask. Please don't make me."
The collar and leash were back upon her neck. She was turned around and her wrists crossed. The cord bit harshly. She wondered if he would strip her when she was safely bound. After the final knot, he took a blanket from a shelf and tugged her leash demandingly.
Their journey was down, down, down. When the key turned in the massive door, the captive girl guessed what was in store.
"Don't think of it as a dungeon, sweetheart," Fingal advised. "There's been a lot of money spent on this prison for silly girls. Look around, I'll bet it's better than you expected."
Perhaps it was, but it was still grim. A modernized dungeon with hidden artificial light, strangely warm but with a daunting array of chains hanging from its walls. Jill got the impression of newness, there was no hint of rust on any chains nor dust on the floor. She stood in shame as Fingal took shackles from the hook and locked them on her ankles, their weight feeling like one more hindrance to freedom. She bore the indignity in silence. Fingal tossed the blanket to the stone floor and, with a brief good night, left her alone and slammed the heavy door on the helpless girl.
Jill stood in disbelief that this could happen. A true dungeon with its filth and rusted irons might have been easier to understand. But there was something even worse about this modem version. But evidently she was not to be raped and there was comfort in the thought. Of course, that was tempered by the fact that she could have chosen a nice, soft bed. The shackled on her ankles were something new and had probably been placed upon her simply because Fingal was unhappy with her. Confined as she was, they served no useful purpose other than to place emphasis on her condition. She was getting used to corded wrists and the collar wasn't too bad, but the heavy weight of steel on her ankles was going to take some getting use to. Jill was suddenly stricken by the total absence of anything on which to sleep other than the rumpled blanket on the floor. Fastened as she was, she could not even pick up the blanket. The dungeon was unquestioningly a victory for The Cause.
CHAPTER TWO - THE LOVELY PRISON
It was the most miserable of Jill Prospect's life. She had never been so helpless and it took a good many trials and errors before she could wrap enough of the blanket around herself to get benefit from it. She was in constant fear of the light being turned off to leave her in darkness but this did not happen and she settled herself in dismal discomfort upon the stone until weariness took her to sleep. When she awoke in the morning the electric light was gone to be replaced by the sad, semi-gloom of a couple of barred windows recessed high in the wall. Her prison was below the ground. She was stiff and hurting and bound wrists made a constant complain. She managed to drag her blanket to the wall and sit upon it while she leaned back against the stone to review her capture and what she might expect from it. It was a profitless survey but there was nothing else to do. She gained no comfort from sight of her heavily shackled feet, the restrictions of which had made her short journey to the wall a thing of shame with its tiny steps and tinkling links. She could never get free, not ever!
The chained and bound captive of The Cause had no way of telling time. It was probably an hour or two after awakening that the sound of key turning in lock revived hope. The massive door opened slowly to reveal the day's first shock. The one who entered was not Fingal but a woman, a woman neatly and domestically attired but contriving to look as expensive as the real of Rintoule Castle. Her smile was warm with curiosity. "Good morning. Miss Jill Prospect. I'm Lady Rintoule. You may call me Connie."
Jill's reactions was purely feminine-a fear of looking untidy and disagreeable. She managed a good morning and awaited what came next.
"That idiot Fingal didn't tell us you were here until this morning, dear." Lady Rintoule was suddenly a concerned hostess. "I take it you refused to sleep with him?"
"Yes."
"If I'd invited you to my bed, would you have accepted?"
Jill suspected it was a loaded questions but said a polite, "Yes, I would, and I wish you had. That man was a beast making me sleep helpless on cold stone."
"All men are impossible, dear. Which do you prefer first, breakfast or a bath?"
"Oh, a bath, please! You're being terribly kind."
"Am I!" There was cynicism in the words. "Not really, darling, I am simply seeing you a potential prey. We'll use my own bathroom and that's a long walk. We'd best take those beautiful shackles off your ankles. They're lovely, aren't they?"
"I can't see anything lovely about this situation I'm in." Connie was easy to speak to. "It's horrible being a prisoner like this. I do hope you'll let me go."
Lady Rintoule had come equipped with a key which she used to unlock the shinning steel circlets from the slender ankles. She hung the empty shackles back on the wall and pocketed the key. "Here, let me help you up," she offered cheerfully. "I'll bet you're stiff and sore and probably angry. The collar and leash effect is really useful, isn't it? You won't mind if I use it to lead you where we're going? I think you're sweet."
Jill Prospect felt herself overwhelm by this personality. There was something about Connie that spelt authority and purpose. And a vast love of living. Obediently she answered the tug upon her neck. It was a gorgeous bedroom, every bit as feminine as the room Fingal had used had been masculine. Once more the captive girl sensed wealth and repeated her most urgent query, "You will let me go, won't you? Surely you won't keep me prisoner?"
There was no answer. The self-appointed lady's aid busied herself with taps and temperatures while saying casually, "I can't possibly trust you, darling, so your hands will have to stay tied. I'll get your clothes off, and I'll love giving you a bath. You're not shy, are you?"
"No, I'm not," said Jill without conviction. "But I do wish you'd let me have my hands. I could undress myself and give myself a bath and save you a lot of trouble. I promise I won't be a bother and I'll let you tie me up again afterwards if that's what you feel you have to do. I won't struggle."
"Really sweet the way you said that." Lady Rintoule's breathing quickened. "It won't do you any good, of course, because I have to keep you prisoner. Now, I do hope you won't mind my using a pair of scissors to cut your clothes here and there."
"Oh, please don't. This frock is the only one I seem to own. I do wish you would give me my hands." Jill's only answer was the snip of shears as the strip of her frock and both straps of her bra fell victim to female purpose. In a minute Jill Prospect was as naked as a girl could ever be, and her companion was standing back to exclaim, "You're positively gorgeous, darling! With a figure like that and those lovely breasts, you must be a model or something."
"No, I'm not." Jill was blushing. "But may I step into the water now?"
"Please do, darling. I really am going to enjoy getting you soaked all over and smelling like you should. A night in a dungeon doesn't do much good for a girl."
It was a very nice bath. The hands were soft and very wise, lingering longer than need be on breasts and pubic hair. The demand was not one to be denied, "Get your legs apart, darling, I'm going to soap you good until I have you panting. Aren't you lucky!"
Jill was by no means sure how lucky she was but she had forgotten her tied wrists and was immersed in pleasurable feeling. When she was told to sit down, she did so with second thought. She was rewarded by more soap rubbed over her breasts and other choice parts of her body. When she had been soaped and laved far more than was necessary to any bath, a regretful feminine voice whispered, "You're not one of us, are you, dear?" I'm so terribly sorry."
From within the feeling of pleasant sensations, the captive girl computed swiftly. "You mean I'm not a lesbian," she said simply and without regret. "No, I'm not. It's always seemed to me disagreeable."
"Not with me, darling."
"I'm not a lesbian." Jill's tone was flat.
"Not even if you got your hands free?"
"Not even for that. But I wish you would untie me. I promise not to give you trouble, and being a lesbian or not shouldn't have anything to do with it."
"If I keep you tied, I would use compulsion, darling."
"You mean a kind of rape?"
Lady Rintoule sighed unhappily. "You prudes really are a problem. But I won't tie you down and work my wicked will with you without Fingal's permission. You're his property, dear, the spoils of war, you know. Out you get now, and I'll towel you down."
The tied girl could have been happy under the tender hands but it now appeared she must contend with male lust on one hand and female love on the other. It was a lot to hope that neither would prevail. Tied as she was, either could do with has as they pleased. Lady Rintoule was enjoyably stroking her captive's posture curves and remarking, "You bottom's been beautifully caned, darling. I think I can recognize that young Moira's work. I'll bet Fingal didn't put these marks on you."
"You're right, it was Moira who caned me. It was horrible and hurt more than anything I've ever known."
"Still sort to sit on?"
"I didn't deserve it."
"Well, let's hope you don't earn any punishment here, dear. There's a set of rules you're suppose to pay attention to but I've forgotten about them."
There was a sudden tug on the leash. "Come along, Jill, I haven't had breakfast either and I'm hungry."
Jill hadn't taken a step before she realized that she was completely naked. "But I can't go down stairs, I can't let servants or anyone see me like this! I'm naked!"
"That's right, darling. I'm glad you noticed. Come along."
"But I can't, I positively can't!"
"Yes, you can, dear. Our servants are well trained and won't lift an eyebrow." The hands were once more tender as the lips were warm. "I may as well tell you now, sweetheart, you'll never wear clothes again. Rintoule Castle has never allowed it's feminine prisoners to wear a stitch of covering. Having you naked like this makes you beautifully vulnerable. And it would be silly to cover up all those treasures."
It could have been a battle of wills but a girl with hands painfully bound behind her back has little will to fight with, only a hopeless wish. With a more demanding tug on her collar, Jill Prospect realized she was about to expose her nakedness to domestic eyes and some how contrive to eat her breakfast without hands. Glumly she followed where her mistress led.
They were attended by only one maid, a pouting pussycat who obviously approved of Jill's captive condition. She raised no eyebrow and made no comment as the mistress of the house arranged the chairs to sit beside the girl with bound hands and raise the coffee to captive lips. "I'll look after you today, darling, but I can't promise this service always. I'm going to suggest to Fingal that he keep your feet safely ironed but gives you the freedom of your hands instead. You can't possibly go romping across Ireland with your feet hobbled."
Domestic indifference was reassuring enough that Jill's spirits rose enough to enable enjoy of her breakfast and three cups of gorgeous coffee, hot and beautifully American. Lady Rintoule enjoyed chuckles over here ward's obvious discomfort from the fabric of the chair on which she sat. "I should explain to you, darling," she said mischievously, "that Fingal gives me authority to cane or whip you should I so desire. I can even punish you by pure caprice. You don't have to do a damned thing in order to find yourself in my torture chamber! Castle Rintoule actually has one, you know. But don't worry, sweetheart, you're all together too delicious for random punishments. I'm going to give you lots of time to think about all those lovely maiden's on the island of Lesbos. From what I know of The Cause I've no doubt we've both got lots of time. Should you need persuading, I can always suspend you by your thumbs. You'd find it a most interesting discomfort."
The two females were very close, eye to eye, and, despite the colorful threat of punishment, Jill felt a warmth in this woman who was her jailer. Not wishing to face anything too directly, she inquired, "But don't you have husband? What about Lord Rintoule? What's he going to think about having a naked girl imprisoned on his premises?"
"Don't give it a thought, darling. If you haven't earned yourself some sort of punishment, you'll meet him at dinner. He's frightfully charming and will wish to take you to bed, but he won't do it unless Fingal gives him permission."
"Is it you or Fingal who owns this castle?" Jill's voice was acid.
"Don't worry, I'll admit we're a little unusual group, and you may get used by any one of us, or by one of our servants if we wish to shame you. You see, dear, the weakness of your position is that, even though you're a sweet girl, you are still The Enemy. The Irish are good at remembering." Jill sighed inwardly. It was like sinking deeper and deeper into an Irish bog. There was no rhyme or reason to anything, and those who had the price did pretty much as they wished with any enemy of The Cause. She was certain that Lady Rintoule could be merciless. But the magic of the hands and the voice was still potent, and all the captive girl could feel was a wish to possess her own hands and use them as eloquently as Lady Constance has used hers. Jill knew she was not a lesbian and never would be despite the allure of this woman who held her prisoner. But a girl was a girl was a girl, and she was still quivering from the contacts of the bath.
The only good thing about helplessness was the absence of decision. She could not make a decision. Decisions were made by people who had options. She was a prisoner and had not options.
The collar was still snug upon her neck and she would obey the leash. At the end of breakfast there was enlightenment.
"I'm going to have to put you in a safe place," Connie said brightly. "But for this morning there's quite a bit of time and I'm going to show you around. If we can stretch things a bit, I may even get you out into the park."
"What, naked like this!"
"Of course, dear, please don't be silly. You'll get used to this matter of walking around without clothes. You've a lovely body and shouldn't mind showing it off. I certainly enjoy looking at it."
"I don't enjoy showing it at all, it's shameful."
"That will pass. I'm now going to show you what the castle has to offer girls like yourself in the way of containment. What I really mean is nice little prisons where we can keep you safe. We give Fingal permission to use them, but we use them more ourselves. I pick my own young ladies for our staff, and most of them need a course in conditioning. I make sure they get it."
"I suppose you know how hard it is for me to believe everything you're telling me?" Jill's tone was appealing. "I know you're going to tug the leash on my collar and I know I'm going to obey, but just the same I don't believe what's happening. Please be patient with me."
"The French have a word for you, darling, it's dolce. You have the most delicious way of saying things, or trying to express how you feel. You've got me excited all the time. Come along now."
Lady Rintoule's torture chamber was exactly that. With a small thrill of terror, Jill recognized that it was both modern and yet adhered to the ancient principles of torture chambers. Everything was beautiful and function, and designed to punish a girl. Lady Constance exhibited the stocks and the pillory and the rack, the thumbscrews and the hoist, and all the exciting viciousness of an age long past with an air of purpose. There was a contrivance hanging from above, a trapeze bar with a soft leather loops at each end, that Lady Constance took pains to make sure Jill saw. "They go below the knuckles of you thumbs, darling" Connie explained. "I pull them tight then touch this button on the wall and up you go. See how it works?"
It worked very well. Slowly the bar with its wicked circles of leather rose up before Jill's eyes to impose the awfulness of feeling her arms raise with them, until her toes could no longer touch the floor. "Once you're properly suspended, darling," her glowing guide explained, "you'd probably be like all the other girls and very anxious to tell me whatever I need to know or to promise anything. You do get the idea?"
Jill got the idea and said so without enthusiasm. It seemed improbable that any of these devices would be used by this nice lady, or their venom expended on herself. But she could not be sure. A lot of money had been spent on that room and Lady Rintoule's enthusiasm about its use had carried conviction. Struck by a sudden thought, she asked, "But all these things, all this torture stuff, is for a girl! Don't you ever like being mean to men?"
"Of course not, dear. Men are a waste of time. The things that were originally in here were sized for men but, as you can see, these are all new and just right for a girl like yourself. Isn't that sweet? Remember what I said about the isle of Lesbos? My husband doesn't bother with this room, he leaves it entirely to me. I'm so lucky."
The good fortunate of Lady Rintoule was beyond dispute. The tied and collared captive made what she hoped were the appropriate responses and followed her leash meekly to where bars replaced stone walls. "You see these lovely little cells, darling," Lady Constance gushed, "there's pretty much what you'd find in any modem prison. There's nothing medieval about them at all except their isolation. We pop you inside and slam the door, and there you are! I want you to notice the lovely furnishing. The nice hard bench, the wash bowl, and the toilet. You could be comfortably keep in one of these cells forever if that's what we wanted. Aren't they something!"
Had the bars been rusted or the stone in a state of crumbing away, Jill might have felt hopeful. But the hateful little cages were in perfect condition and once she was locked inside she knew there would be no escape. Even if her hands had not been tied behind her back, the bars would hold her prisoner quite well. And each had a large padlock fitted in the front. Timidly she said, "Yes, they're lovely. Could we move on to the next exhibit?"
There were several cells and Lady Constance insisted on a proper viewing of each. One held stocks. Another exhibited a frightful display of chains and shackles. A third boasted a whipping post dead center with its sinister straps and whip hanging upon a hook to be admired by any captive girl. Jill wished she could think of them as fun things but knew they were terribly real.
There was also a plain room which held nothing but a cage, a cage of iron bars but small, just barely girl sized. A captive placed within there would be very restricted even without other bondage. "You either curl up and go to sleep, darling, or clutch the bars and wait for something to happen," Lady Constance explained cheerfully. "If I ever lock you inside, you'll look quite charming and always hopeful that on my next visit I may unlock the door. Just one more pretty little exercise in captive."
Being lead naked into the open air of the park was the same for Jill as a leap into icy water. She felt certain the whole world was looking at her nakedness and making its own cruel comments. She knew she was beautiful but her beauty was her own, not something to be shared by all. But the leash tugged and she walked forward into the soft and warm air of Ireland, wondering if she dared kick Lady Constance where it would hurt and run away. As if in answer, the girl who held her leash exhibited an instrument she had picked up on the way, a riding crop which would probably hurt terribly, and which the captive girl eyed in apprehension and respect. The crop banished thoughts of freedom as effectively as did every thing else.
"There's quite a lot of young ladies go through our hands," Lady Constance explained. "Our idea is simply to teach them a lesson and then send them back to behave themselves. There's cases that never do reach the newspapers. Mostly the parents are grateful for us to do the job for them. And I really do believe the girls themselves are grateful for the attentions we bestow. We have to cure the poor darlings of an inclination to fall in love with British soldiers. We've had several cases where this infatuation has been so deep that the whip or cane isn't enough. These poor dears get their heads shaved and lose their pubic hair. We find this treatment hurts a lot worse than more physical treatment. Would you like to have your head shaved?"
"No, I wouldn't. And I haven't done anything to deserve it!"
"Don't get excited, that wasn't threat. I've mentioned these girls because the park was partly designed for them. It's full of all sorts of devices, the same as the lovely room back in the castle. We've done it all unintrusively in the bushes, so as not to spoil the general atmosphere. But we're coming to something now I want you to see."
They arrived at a sun-lit glade where a couple of upright posts held a horizontal pole four feet above the ground. Centered upon it with her feet bound wide apart to either side as a girl. She was as naked as Jill herself.
Her hands were stretched above to either side and secured to an overhanging bough by thin wire, a ingenious configuration Lady Constance explained with relish. "Poor, dear, Anna has been a naughty girl. So she has to sit with her little pussy hard down on that pole the way you see her, and there's really not much she can do about it. The wire will cut her wrists if she tries to ease her weight. And her ankles are nicely tied out to either side so she won't fall this way or that. She simply has to sit and let her little pussy take all her weight." She turned to the suffering girl, "Anna, dear, I want you to tell Jill what it feels like to ride the pole." The invitation was sweet but the reply held real anguish, "Oh, my lady, it's awful. Please let me loose." "That's not what I asked, Anna. I want you to tell Jill exactly how you feel."
The girl looked at Jill with pity in her eyes. "It's cutting me in two, so it is. And I can't do a thing expect sit here and feel myself split in half," the punished girl explained. She quickly returned her attention to the lady in authority. "Oh, Lady Constance, I'll never do it again. I won't every disobey again. This punishment is ruining me, so it is. Please forgive me, please, please, please... " The agonized voice trailed off into a sobbing silence.
But Lady Constance was concerned only with Jill. "You see, girl, how effective this punishment is. Poor Anna has to sit like that all day, and if she's repentant now, she'll be every so much more so when we take her down. Would you like to sit there just to try it out?"
"No thank you. I think you should take that poor girl down, she's suffering terribly."
The crop cut cruelly at naked flesh. "Never give me orders, dear," Lady Constance said calmly. "Have you any other opinions?"
The agony of the single stroke was intense. "No, I'm sorry I spoke," Jill said in surrender. "But it's hard for me to believe in everything I'm seeing."
"Would one more cut with the crop help you understand, dear?"
"No, never mind. I'm learning fast."
"Of course you are, dear, and that's the purpose of this little trip. Come along now, there's a few other things I want to show you. We'll leave poor Anna with her pain and good resolutions. You will be a good girl tomorrow, wouldn't you, Anna?"
"Oh, yes! I will, I will!" It was evident the girl astride the pole had abandoned thoughts of mercy. Then the suffering girl addressed herself to Jill, "Be sure and do whatever Lady Constance says. Don't get lippy and never disobey."
Lady Constance and her captive continued on their way. "The trouble is that kind of punishment only lasts a while then the girl forgets and becomes bad again. There's usually one or two of them out here in the park getting a refresher course in good behavior." She tugged mischievously at Jill's neck. "I hope I won't have this trouble with you, darling."
The naked girl with hands tied behind her back walked sedately beside the woman who owned her totally. What she had just beheld had made a deep imprint and left her with the hateful impression of being disgustingly submissive and anxious to please. Never in her whole life had Miss Jill Prospect felt thus under the control of someone else. She felt pretty sure the more often she pleaded for freedom, the most distant it would become. The crop cut upon her skin burned horribly.
The ant hill was no more remarkable than most, but, like all ant hills, it teemed with industrious ants hurrying upon their tasks. "They're such silly creatures, aren't they?" Lady Constance had halted to admire the part of nature. "You'll notice the four stakes, dear. They're for you wrists and ankles. When you're tied down tight, I think they call it spread-eagled. You'll find your pretty little bottom is squarely upon that busy bunch of ants. And, in order to make them more interested in you, we'll anoint your pretty little puss with honey. I think that idea originated in Africa, but, of course, their ants are far more vicious than ours. But don't think you'll like being tied down there one little bit." Lady Constance giggled. "It really is a sight to see all those busy little creatures enjoying themselves with a real, live girl. Naturally, we take the girl's clothes off before tying her to those stakes. Want to try?"
Jill shuddered and stepped back a pace as though threatened. She could easily visualize her own agonies if subjected to such a punishment. Strangely enough, that punishment evoked both horror and laughter. Crisply she said, "It's very interesting, but I wouldn't want it. May be go on to the next exhibit?"
"Haven't you had enough, dear?"
"I'd a lot sooner be out here in the park with you than locked in one of those little cages you showed me back there."
"What makes you so sure I'm going to lock you in one of them?"
"What else can you do with me? Fingal said I was a bloody nuisance, and that's the end of it. If you absolutely must keep me a prisoner, you won't want to hang on to my leash all the time. And I suppose the other alternative is one of pretty little cages." Jill's tone was bitter.
The lady with the leash laughed delightedly. "All right, sweetheart, I'll indulge you with just one more visit to a correctional instrument. I'd love to subject you to all of them but I doubt if you'll give me a good enough excuse." Lady Constance sighed. "But I can always hope."
It was pretty little pond, it's dark depths holding a promise of sinister monsters and clutching tentacles. "It's an old marl pit," Lady Constance informed. "These pits are always deep and I want you to note that heavy plank sticking out from the shore like a diving board. You're hands get tied behind your back and you have to walk the plank just like in ancient pirate days. You don't have any choice about it but have to go out there step by step and off the end. And then, so you don't drown, we haul you back to shore by a rope attached to you somewhere. And then, when you've got back to normal, you have to do it all over again. In fact, you have to do it quite a number of times according to how naughty a girl you've been. You get to drink quite a lot of water but it's every so much fun."
"I think it's horrible and dangerous."
"We can try it out right now, dear, if you wish to be critical."
"No. I'll take your word that it's a real fun thing." Jill gazed into the dark water and found herself shivering at the thought of jumping in while naked and helplessly bound.
"Gets too you, doesn't it, sweetheart?"
"They all get to me. Constance, you've got me scared." Jill looked at her smiling captor imploringly. "You and Fingal have made me understand the spot I'm in, and you've made your point by showing me all these punishments. Please help me avoid them. I'm not the least bit heroic about things like this."
The kiss and hug from Lady Constance was reassuring. As she was led back to the castle, Miss Jill Prospect actually managed a couple of laughs. The soft, moist Irish air caressed her naked skin lovingly, as though to hold her prisoner forever.
"You'll be having dinner with us this evening," Lady Rintoule advised. "There'll just be the three of us, and I'm afraid you'll have to wear clothes. Poor Tom is an absolute prude about dinner. He won't mind me having you naked anywhere else but in the dinning room he objects to nudity as if he thinks it's unsanitary or offends his Irish gods. Will you mind terribly?"
"I'll love it. But with tied hands... ? How will I dress?"
"Don't worry, dear, I'm not going to give you the least little chance to escape. You won't get untied to put on clothes. I have the most ingenious way to handle clothes."
Jill was too entranced by the prospect of once more being covered to bother her hostess with questions. Her heart went out to Sir Thomas Rintoule for what might seem an aberration to his wife, but which Jill saw as no more than common decency. Instantly she asked, "Will it be format?"
"Not all the way, dear. His lordship dearly loves to keep up appearances. Dear Tom is often rather randy as the rest, but never at dinner. When he picked me from a chorus line from the good old USA, he was stuffy as all get out, and I've had to do a lot of work with him to make life tolerable. But in some ways I still find him rather quaint."
Jill wondered if Sir Thomas might be quaint enough, or honest enough, to set her free. He sounded vastly different from his wife, or from Fingal. But these reflections were erased from her mind as they entered Lady Constance's bedroom.
Everything was splendid, and Jill's spirits might have soared in this delightfully feminine atmosphere had it not been for the shinning chain hanging from the middle of the room. The chain was a false and fearful note in what should have been the happy music of a pair of girls enjoying each other's company. "Let me get you dressed before we get to talking." Constance was suddenly businesslike. "You've probably figured out what that chain is for?"
Jill had guessed nothing, she was still in a wonderland she would gladly leave. Silently she allowed herself to be positioned under the heavy suspended links were touching her cheek. Laughing, Lady Constance looped the chain around Jill's slender neck and snapped a padlock through a pair of links to collar her captive. "Get the idea, darling? I think it's wonderful."
"I don't think it's wonderful at all," Jill rejoined disgustedly. "It's heavy on my neck and means I can't sit down but have to stand right here. I think you enjoy making me helpless."
Lady Constance paused long enough to bestow a kiss. "You'll get used to me and the things I'll do to you, darling," she said. "Now, if you'll turn around, I'll show you how kind I can be."
Jill knew it as one of the most wonderful moments of her life. The cords were peeled from her crossed wrists and her hands suddenly free. She held them up in pure wonder to glory in their possession, and exclaim about the weals purple from the long binding of her hands. Constance exclaimed, too, and grasped a wounded wrist to massage it tenderly. "Gosh, aren't they gorgeous marks! Tom will dote on them. He adores anything erotic, and finds the hint of things past or still to come far more entrancing then reality. What's it like to have your hands back?"
"It's wonderful. Please don't tie them again, there's no need."
"I'm sure when you get the hang of it, Jill, you'll be able to dress yourself. I think it's a beautiful arrangement."
Jill looked down at her bare feet but the snub of chain upon her neck made her say, "Yes, I suppose it's ingenious enough. But I can't possibly put on nylons or shoes. And I probably can't even handle panties. How long do I have to stay like this?"
"I'll help you with what you can't handle, dear. And don't sound so sad. Or would you like another cut with the riding crop?"
It was a strange scene. The titled hostess was busy at her dresser while behind her a naked girl stood forlornly under compulsion of a chain and padlock on her neck. Jill unhappily realized her condition as one more from which she could never escape. She felt as if she would forever be at the mercy of these people she could not hate but who saw her as a menace to their Cause. She sighed and clasped her chain with one free hand.
No doubt what was taking place within Lady Constance's bedroom was entirely normal for Rintoule Castle.
The naked girl was left to pose in her pretty obedience to the chain. Lady Rintoule came and went while her captive remained standing in what Jill still felt was naked shame, a shame intensified when a serving girl came to perform some task in the bathroom and passed by her with a polite and fine, "Good afternoon to you, Ma'am," as though a nude woman standing with a chain around her neck was par for the course. But even under the stress of that shame and humiliation, Jill knew for sure she preferred the bedroom to the cage downstairs.
Lady Constance provided feminine clothing which hid the essential parts of Jill's nakedness but not much more. The mistress called it a summer dress and asked how she liked to be much more respectable. If a good deal of her skin was visible, it was certainly less than she had shown off while wearing a bikini to the beach. The two of them shared giggles over the chained girl's inability to bend, and it was the mistress who tugged on the clothes and dealt with the shoes.
"They cost a awful lot of money and were made especially for girls." Lady Constance held up the shinning handcuffs for the approval of she who must wear them. "See how small the circles are, dear, and how everything is nicely rounded and polished? I think they're sweet."
"I've never been handcuffed? Do you really have to?" Jill asked doubtfully.
"Of course I have to! Or would you prefer I tied your hands again behind your back?"
"No, never mind. It's just that they'll make me feel a criminal. Handcuffs are for criminals, aren't they?"
"You'd be surprised how many respectable young women wear them, dear. They're beautifully convenient."
Jill fought back her impulse for evasive action. She knew for sure she did not want her hands tied behind her back. Perhaps these handcuffs would be kinder to her wrists than the bit of cord. But she shrank from their obvious association with murder trials and prison. She know nothing about handcuffs but could well see the truth of Lady Constance's assertion of their beauty. They would indeed have been pretty bracelets had they not been joined by a single link of steel. Without demur, Jill allowed her self-appointed jailer to take one of her hands and then watched as a circlet came magically around to close their jaws snugly upon her skin. When her second wrist joined her first, she knew herself possessing a greater freedom than with hands behind her back but sensed also a fearful loss of liberty. And a deep shame at what her mind could think of only as "being chained."
"There we are, darling. Try doing things, you'll be surprised at how much freedom you have. In case you're worried, I can tell you for sure you look sweet in them."
Obediently, the handcuffed girl twisted and turned her hands, raising and lowering them, and fingering the smooth steel surfaces. It was true, she had a great deal of freedom, and if she refrained from tugging at them, the handcuffs did not hurt. Jill went through these motions and then raised her joined hands to examine their metal bond in pure curiosity. It was a new experience. The eyes of Lady Constance glowed with approval.
"I suppose they're so I can eat my dinner," Jill mused allowed. "I'm going to feel an awful idiot in front of your husband."
"Those lovely little things are delightful on your wrists. Be grateful for them."
"I don't see how any girl can be grateful for being handcuffed." Thoughtfully Lady Constance picked up the length of cord previously discarded on the rug. Her tone was curt, "Give me your hands."
Jill felt suddenly guilty of ingratitude. "No, please, I'm sorry I spoke. The handcuffs are sweet. Please don't tie my hands again."
Lady Constance shrugged but discarded the cord. "You complain too easily, darling. I should use that crop on you once more. When I free your neck, you'll have things good... Except for one small thing."
One small thing was a replica of the handcuffs expect obviously designed for ankles instead of wrists and with a longer linkage. Jill admired their silvery beauty in a horrid fascination. "You mean you're actually going to chain my ankles?" Her tone was disbelief.
"With your hands locked in front, you're practically a free girl," Lady Constance pointed out reasonably. "I wouldn't blame you for running away, so I dare not take chances. I'm sorry, dear, but I'll simply have to hobble your feet."
It was swiftly done. In a few seconds she was hobbling around in a mixture of loathing and curiosity. She tested the length of the stride she could take and found that she could walk but never run, and would make metallic music as she moved.
"But don't you see how humiliated I'm going to be, kicking my way around with little short steps? And probably tripping?" Jill looked at Lady Constance imploringly. "Please don't do this to me, the handcuffs are enough. Really they are."
"Remember what I told you about complaints?" Lady Constance picked up the riding crop and flexed it thoughtfully. "I ought to lift that skirt and give you a round half dozen," she said with menace. "You're altogether too lippy for a prisoner." With a shrug she threw the crop aside. "I'm being a real softy, but you look so damned sweet in those lovely restraints, I just don't have the heart. But don't get the idea you'll always be let off this easy. What I want you to do now is practice walking."
"But my neck's chained!"
They shared laughter as the captive neck was freed. Jill's fingers went to her neck as the weight of the chain was taken off and she suddenly realized that the handcuffs hindered her not at all.
"Now, walk up and down the whole length of the room. If you stumble, you won't hurt yourself. I want to hear those pretty links sing their song." It was useless to protest. Jill was humiliatingly away of the riding crop laughing at her from the rug. Remembering the strip it had inflicted, she had no wish to have that happen again. Curious about her new condition, Jill took her first step. Secretly she was, for some strange reason she couldn't understand, pleased with these two pieces of restraint jewelry. The handcuffs and leg irons were so dainty and feminine, they were surely more like jewelry than restraints. Lady Constance was rewarded by the gleeful song of confining steel. The chained girl took a series of successful steps before she trod on one link and stumbled. Jill Prospect suddenly realized she would have to learn to walk all over again.
"You're doing fine, dear. I adore you." Connie's exclamation rippled with delight. Concentrating on the chain between her feet, Jill found only irritation in the length which joined her hands. Where ever she held them as she walked made her feel untidy and not fully in control of herself. She compromised by holding her cuffed hands between her breasts as she walked. When reaching the far wall, she turned to retrace the path of captive to where her mistress stood. Quite suddenly it was fun.
CHAPTER THREE - BITE OF STEEL, CUT OF CORD
Sir Thomas Rintoule may have had Irish blood but was tweedily British in attire and Oxford in his speech, as became a county squire. He rose to explain, "You're a beauty. Miss Prospect. I trust Constance is treating you well?"
He was not what Jill expected. She was very conscious of being chained. She allowed Lady Constance to lead her towards the shinning silver of the table, praying with each step she would not stumble and make herself more of a fool than she already felt. Her cheeks were pink. But as Sir Thomas politely indicated a chair and helped her sit, the captive girl of Rintoule Castle felt only good will radiating upon her from every side. Sir Thomas eyed her breasts from beneath their flimsy covering with deep approval. "Fingal's mostly a bit of a nuisance," he confided cheerfully. "But this time he's come up trumps. Welcome to Rintoule Castle, Miss Jill Prospect."
"It's a beautiful old place, I envy you." Jill made polite conversation. She saw Sir Thomas as an unknown quantity, perhaps to be exploited. He seemed a kindly old soul so why wait? Jill caught his eye, carefully avoiding the wife's cold stare. "I'm hoping you'll agree this outrageous business with Fingal has gone far enough," she told him with an even tone. "Your wife has been sweet to me and I'm treating these restraints she has compelled me to wear as something of a joke. But I do hope that after supper you'll allow me to go free."
Sir Thomas barely paused with his soup, his response off-hand and gruff, "Doesn't do to interfere with Fingal or my wife, Miss Prospect. Don't bother your pretty head with such things. Enjoy your dinner." He cast a glance at his wife. "Hasn't the dear girl broken one of your rules, Connie? This going free business?"
"You've been very silly, Jill," Lady Constance admonished. "You've earned three with the riding crop, which you'll get later on, maybe with the coffee and brandy. You really must try and accept your present status."
Jill knew herself blushing scarlet. That at this delightful table she should be sentenced to three strokes with a whip upon her bare skin was utterly incongruous. But she felt certain it would happen and felt once more shamed. She changed the subject, "When do you expect Fingal back? When he comes, what will he do with me?"
"No one expects Fingal. The damned fellow comes and goes as he pleases," Sir Thomas said without concern. "As to what he'll do with you, I expect he'll leave you exactly as you are. He knows he can trust Connie." He pushed aside his plate and beamed, "Which one of us will this delightful creature spend the night with, Connie, my dear?"
"Neither of us," Lady Constance told him. "It seems she is not for me and I'm damned if I'm going to hand her over to you. She can spend the night alone and it will serve her right."
Sir Thomas was unruffled as he turned his attention to the chained girl. "My wife's a bit of a problem over this getting into bed bit," he explained. "But if you'd like to sleep with me, just say so and I'll make sure it happens."
Miss Jill Prospect's blush was already as scarlet as it could ever be. She was painfully aware of her mistress' cold glare. "It's kind of you to offer, Sir, but I'd rather not if you don't mind," she ventured cautiously. "I'm not accustomed to being used by either sex. This is all strange to me."
"See what I told you, Tom," the wife said icily. "She doesn't want either of us." There was a pregnant little pause before she continued with, "Do you wish her punished?"
"You've already sentenced her to three, so I guess we could around it out to an even five. By all means, give the poor child her correction."
"I prefer an even six."
"Just as you wish. dear. I don't want our guest to think she's not welcome."
Jill was well aware of Sir Thomas watching the play of her chained hands with a pleasure all his own. "Please don't be too hard on me," she asked politely, "I'm not used to this sort of thing. But I expect I'll get used to it."
It was hopeless and Jill Prospect felt a need she would feel often in times to come-she longed to buy her face in her joined hands and weep. Instead she fought to eat her meal in as normal a fashion as her joined hands would allow. At least it was good food.
It was not until dessert that Sir Thomas inquired, "If Miss Prospect is not spending the night with either one of us, what do you intend to do with her, dear?"
"The silly creature deserves the dungeon."
"Isn't that being a bit rough on a girl her age?"
"Damn it, Tom, she's not a child. We're pampering her enough already."
Sir Thomas grunted and the captive girl from certain that under the right circumstances she would find him an ally. He offered, "Why don't you chain Miss Prospect to the wall in the bedroom. If you put the collar on her neck so she has to stand, she'll be longing to get into bed with you before long." He turned to Jill to add, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"It sounds terrible. Am I allowed to decline?"
"Well, if you talk nicely to her, she may chain you to her bed so you can sleep on the floor. Nice touch, what?"
"Leave her alone, Tom, she doesn't know whether she's coming or going. Don't worry, there's plenty of places where I can put her. Let's all retire to the lounge so I can cane her bottom before we all have coffee." Following the guidance of gentle fingers on her arm, Jill accompanied her hosts to where she would receive the pain of punishment before coffee. The whole thing was utterly bizarre!
The lounge was delightful but Lady Constance's demand was not. "I want you naked, dear. I told you I'd have you naked all the time except at dinner. And nakedness is so much more convenient for your punishment."
"Jolly good idea," Sir Thomas approved. "Let's have a proper look at you. Clothes are a bore, except at mealtimes."
"I'll have to set you free so you can undress yourself. But before I do that I want your promise you'll behave yourself. No running for the door or leaping for a window. I expect complete obedience."
It was useless to refuse. Jill uttered, "Oh, okay, if you insist."
"I do insist. And I'd rather you didn't bother to tell us you'd rather not. Here, give me your hands."
It was wonderful to be free. Demurely Jill asked, "Do you mind?" as she stretched her arms. While doing so she became shamefully aware of Sir Thomas's interested regard. He wanted her naked and so disrobe before him was an ordeal difficult to face. On the other hand, how could she possibly ask him to leave the room. She must suffer six strokes now and it would be wise not to invite more.
"Never mind stretching, darling. Take off those clothes and show yourself properly to poor, dear Tom. He hasn't seen a naked girl except myself for quite some time. Don't quibble."
It was a strange mixture of emotions as the captive girl used free hands to remove clothing. She felt herself blushing and avoiding the eyes of those who watched as she stripped. When completely naked, she was told to slowly turn for Lord Rintoule's inspection and to hold her hands behind her head to accent her curves. Jill closed her eyes. It was silly but it helped.
"You're playing coy, dear. Open your eyes and look directly at Tom and myself as you turn. Don't spoil a good performance."
"I've said it before and I'll say it again-you're a beauty, Miss Prospect. Magnificent breasts, a waist as if you've been corseted all your life, and a pubic patch as nice as I've seen." Sir Thomas was sincere in his compliments.
'That's enough of that little exercise," Lady Constance said finally. "Let me have your hands again."
Jill thought of refusing only for a second. But she was resigned to under the control of these people, for now at least, and she didn't want to spoil the good will. Obediently she extended her hands to watch the small and costly handcuffs bit her wrists and hold them tight. The next command was a shock but no more than she could expect.
It was humiliating to have to position herself for the whip, but Jill obeyed the command to place the chair, stand on it, and loop her handcuffed wrists over the hook high on the wall, and then step back upon the floor. When this was done she was not exactly stretched but knew that without the chair she would be unable to lift her hands high enough to free herself of the hook. Lady Constance pulled the chair back, well out of reach. Miss Jill Prospect was a naked woman who's chained hands were high above her head, standing helplessly for her painful fate. "Damned pretty picture," Lady Rintoule offered.
"She'll be a lot prettier when she gets her strips," his wife observed cheerfully. "You will, won't you dear?" She patted Jill's tight, round bottom. "You won't believe right now but you're going to love this."
The girl about to be punished said nothing as a loving arm drew her back from the wall to place in the space thus provided a small desk thrusting itself into her belly and forcing her bottom into a more pronounced position. She was in a posture perfectly designed for what was about to be done. She thrust one cheek hard against raised arm and clenched her teeth.
The pain was terrible. And despite her vow not to move, Jill found herself raising and lowing a leg, and shifting hips uneasily against the desk. She did not yet scream but found herself panting from the pain. When the second stroke cut hard, she implored urgently, "Not so hard! Oh, please, not so hard! I just can't bear it."
"You're bearing it very well, dear. But that little outburst will cost you one extra. You are now up to seven. Do you wish to try for eight?"
It was frightening to be so totally exposed and so totally helpless. The handcuffs were now cutting Jill's wrist and the desk did the same for her middle. The two strokes had set her bottom vividly aflame. Once more she clenched her lips and closed her eyes.
Two more cuts with the crop drew praise from the man who watched. "You're right, Connie, my gal, the strips set her off beautifully. When she gets her next three, she'll have the most prettily marked arse in Ireland."
"Don't be vulgar, Tom. I do wish you'd use the American term, 'Ass'. The British arse is disgusting." Lady Constance cut hard again across two agonized cheeks.
"It's a British arse you're working on now, dear," Sir Thomas chuckled loudly. "Seems to me there's a term you use across the Atlantic, something about a belt. Well, you belt her as hard as you can for the last two. I haven't enjoyed anything as much as this for a long time."
By the time the sixth stroke had marked her, Jill was moaning in disbelief that such pain could possibly exist. Lady Constance paused to point out reasonably, "You've had your six, dear, and this could have been the end of it if you'd had enough sense to keep your mouth shut. This seventh one is going to hurt."
The hurt was bitterly real. She managed not to scream for her mind was filled with a great thankfulness that the ordeal was now done. Miss Jill Prospect had been well and truly beaten with a riding crop, wealed and caned by a titled woman, and shamed before a man.
The desk was withdrawn and Lady Constance kissed her neck tenderly. "You did wonderfully, darling."
Never had a girl stood upon a chair or stepped down from it more eagerly. The handcuffed Jill was soon striving to sooth inflamed skin with chained hands that could not properly reach. "I'm sure you're anxious to see yourself, darling," Lady Constance offered. "So why don't you run up to the bedroom and use the mirror."
"Go on up and have a good look," his lordship said cheerfully. "Than come back and tell us what you think of it."
Jill obeyed the order, and in a few moments was staring in amazement at a multicolored girlish bottom on which each imprint of the crop was clearly defined in glowing colors. The pain of them, coupled with the handcuffed wrists, was enough to drive thoughts of escape from her mind. Quietly, Jill went back downstairs.
"Pleased with them?" his lordship demanded.
"Yes, they're wonderful." She felt a fool.
"I'll try and keep them nicely marked while you're with us," Constance said kindly. "Be honest now, doesn't that whipped bottom make you horny?"
It was the missing ingredient. The whipped girl had known all the other emotions that go with punishment, but her mistress' inquiry unlocked a storage of revelation previously unrealized. Once more Jill blushed as she replied stiffly, "Yes, I suppose it does. I never dreamed...!"
"And you still don't want to share a bed?"
"No. Really. And please don't try to make me."
"I haven't chained your ankles, dear, so you're now free to do as you like in this room. Walk around or sit down, or more probably, you'll wish to stand, in which case please do so facing Tom and I, and turning around now and then to give us the full effect of your punished bottom. Anna will now serve us coffee. If you prefer, you can go to the bar and pour our brandy later. We'll have a lovely evening."
"With me naked!"
"Of course, dear. In any civilized group there should be at least one naked girl."
"And handcuffed?"
"Of course handcuffed, darling. The world has always had slavegirls and you're the prettiest we could hope to find. Pity Fingal isn't here, he'd be proud of you."
She felt like a child showing of talents before parents. Jill had no wish to sit down and compromised by kneeling before her captors, her chained hands falling towards her pubic patch. She was suddenly tired and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee from the maid. The maid appeared not to notice her lack of clothing. Jill felt like Alice in Wonderland.
"I don't want you to think we don't understand how trying an experience this has to be for you, Miss Prospect," Sir Thomas said with genuine feeling. "Rintoule isn't exactly a girl's idea of a vacation spot, not the way it's happening to you. Constance and I are a unconventional couple who wouldn't put up with Fingal for a minute if we didn't enjoy the fun and games we often provides. We're impressed with you dear girl, and I'm going to make you an offer. How would you like to remain our prisoner, more or less exactly as you are, for a period of months or years? We enjoy having you around."
Kindness can be defeating. It was that way now with the chained girl, dissolving all her anger. She looked down at the pretty handcuffs on her wrists and then squarely faced those who held her prisoner. "I expect I'm being flattered and I don't want to be unkind in anything I say. When you speak of months and years it frightens. But couldn't you have a trail run in this period when you're obliging Fingal by keeping me? By the time that's done with you may be sick to death of me."
"We won't."
The reply came from both husband and wife together. "You realize, don't you, darling, we don't have to ask your permission? We can just keep you our prisoner for the rest of your life if we want. No one going to search Castle Rintoule looking for you. You've vanished."
A shiver running up and down Jill's spine told her it was true. This couple had her and could certainly keep her. Fingal would be glad to be rid of an unwanted responsibility. With a small break in her voice, Jill said, "I know you can do as you please with me, but let's leave it that you're keeping me for Fingal, and that's the way I prefer to leave it right now."
"Scared of a life sentence?" Sir Thomas chuckled.
"Yes, I am. I'm only a girl, you know."
"You're not much younger than Constance. We'd make a marvelous trio."
"With my bottom suitably marked all the time?" Jill's query held mischief.
Lord and Lady Rintoule laughed away the doubts. They knew themselves immune to disaster if they should decide to keep this young lady as a slave. After all, why not! In control, they held all the wining cards. The chained and naked captive could actually feel the vibes of affection and good will. The whole thing was baffling and hard to deal with.
For all three of them, the brandy which Jill served carefully with cuffed hands, created a mood totally benign. Everybody loved everybody, and Jill assured herself she could not imagine a life in which the joining of her hands did not have a part. Her ankles remained unchained, and this fact keep alive a small, nagging insistence in her mind that perhaps Castle Rintoule would not hold her as tightly as they thought. She set the thought aside, remembering the riding crop. But it lurked back there in the recesses of consciousness and would not go away. When bedtime came the captive girl was far less concerned than she might have been.
Jill was taken to the bathroom and then to a room she had not previously seen. It was easy to recognize it as the bed chamber of Sir Thomas Rintoule, and the captive girl had to wonder why he and his spouse chose to sleep apart in separate rooms. But this query found no utterance for the naked prisoner was thrust against the wall without preamble or explanation and a collar placed upon her neck. She was kissed affectionately and told that whenever she wished to go to bed, she had only to say so. Constance wished her a warm good night and went away.
The man of the house was not long in arriving. He surveyed the naked girl standing helplessly against the wall with deep approval. No doubt he was an authority on female nakedness.
"So that's where Constance decided you could spend the night," he said without surprise. "Well, I suppose there's worse places and you can just make the best of it."
Jill felt certain she was being played with and stood in docile helplessness while Sir Thomas donned pajamas.
But when he got into bed and turned out the lights, she voiced her main concern into the darkness, "Surely you're not going to leave me standing her all night?"
"You can come into bed with me anytime you say, dear girl."
"I expect I can." Jill's voice was bitter. "But don't you realize that I can't bend down, or sit. I can't even kneel. I have to stand."
"That's right, dear girl."
"But you can't possibly leave me like this, I won't get a wink of sleep. I could fall and break my neck."
"Don't think about such things. Miss Prospect. I'm going to sleep now and if you disturb my rest, you'll enjoy another session with Lady Constance and her riding crop in the morning. Good night."
Jill longed to cry or to beat her fists in frustration against one of the smiling faces into who's care Fingal had delivered her. The threat of the crop was frightening. When Sir Thomas began to gently snore, she felt isolated from the rest of the world, and desperately frightened of the night. In one sense she had a great deal of freedom but in another had none at all. With the handcuffs on in front, Jill was able to raise her hands to explore her neck collar. It was metal. The chain from it to the wall was metal. The small padlock connecting the chain to her neck was metal. She could do nothing about it and would stand throughout the hours of darkness. The heavy breathing of Sir Thomas told her sternly not to disturb his rest.
It took less than an hour for Jill to realize that her noble captors were both fast asleep and her own chained condition would continue at least until morning. At first she stood in tense revolt but gradually sagged into a passive acceptance of the collar and its chain. The floor was only a few feet away but it was not for her. So far as her hands were concerned, she never expected to have the use of them again.
It took more than an hour of darkness before the girl held captive to the wall allowed her thoughts to drift toward the bed. The bed would be soft and warm, and even though it contained a male, it would not be her first time. Whatever Sir Thomas chose to do to her would be done with gentleness, she was sure. The darkness was an enemy in which lurked ghosts and the collar and chain laughed at any thoughts of comfort. It was at least two hours before Miss Jill Prospect said firmly, in a loud voice, "Please, Sir Thomas, I would like to share your bed."
It was as though he had been faking sleep all along. Instantly he was standing beside her and busy with a key. Grasping one arm. he led her to his bed, pausing then only long enough to clasp another set of handcuffs upon her ankles. Arranger her for sleep, he drew the covers up to her neck. Returning to his own side of the bed, he went, as far as Jill could tell, instantly to sleep.
When the doubly handcuffed maiden came awake the sun was high. Sir Thomas was gone, and Lady Constance stood beside the bed, looking down with sure amusement.
'That standing against the wall really gets to a girl, doesn't it," was her greeting. "I let dear Tom do it to me once just to see what it was like. I lasted only a couple of hours before I was imploring him to take me to bed. Please don't feel ashamed, you did damned well."
As thought caught in the act, Jill blushed and looked at her mistress imploringly, only to have her mistress laugh and say. "Don't tell me, darling, I already know. Darling Tom didn't touch you, did he? You had said you didn't want it and Tom's a perfect gentleman. You're a damned lucky girl."
Jill watched the unlocking of the lock to the handcuffs on her ankles but her wrists remained in bondage. She was escorted to the bathroom then to breakfast by a glowing mistress concerned only with Rintoule affairs. At breakfast she revived Jill's blush with directive to the serving maid. "Anna, run upstairs and get Miss Prospect's leg irons, will you please? She's not feeling properly dressed."
A naked girl could hardly complain about not being properly dressed. Seething silently, Jill put up with the tight clasp of anklets above her feet, clicking to become tightly snug, they told her there would be no escape for a girl named Jill.
They talked girl talk. Constance was insistent upon their forgetting the handcuffs and chained feet in order to talk of clothes and shoes and the absurdities of men. The breakfast was delicious and it was not long before Jill forgot herself a prisoner.
"Tom's off making money," his wife explained. "It takes a lot of money to support this place and contribute to The Cause. Fortunately Tom has the gift. I don't know how he does it but we're probably the wealthiest family in all of Ireland. You'll never get free, dear."
"So, okay, I haven't a hope," said Jill. "What are you going to do to me today?"
"You'll stay in one of the cells while I look after things I have to do. I did show you those cells downstairs, didn't I?"
"You mean those stocks and pillories and stuff!"
"What's wrong with them, dear? They don't hurt if you don't struggle. And you look very sweet in them." She paused to look at Jill. "You're not really broken, are you? You still need a bit of subduing."
"Those things are punishments and I haven't done anything to deserve punishment!"
"Don't quibble, darling, you'll endure whatever I decide you'll endure. Or would you prefer the crop?"
"No, I wouldn't. I hate the damned thing. I suppose you've noticed my bottom's every color in the rainbow. Look, Connie, couldn't you just lock me in a cell and leave it at that?"
"I could but I won't. Darling, you're delicious. I simply can't resist being unkind to you. Wouldn't you like to sit on a nice hard bench with your feet stuck out and safely locked in the stocks? I mean, it doesn't hurt and you'd have lot's of time to think. And I promise I'd come and visit you sometimes. You wouldn't be alone all the day... "
"Haven't you something less medieval?"
"I think it dates from the sixteenth century. Or something like that. I wouldn't really call it medieval. How about being suspended by your thumbs?"
"Oh, Constance, please, you're frightening me. Couldn't I be tied to a tree or something?"
"A neat idea, darling. That's exactly what I'll do to you. The park is a lovely place in which to spend a day. And there's some of the nicest trees." Lady Constance laughed at Jill's dolor. "I've used those trees often, and a lot of my girls have been bound to them and then wished they'd chosen a cell instead. We'll see if it's that way with you."
Jill was led out into the park and offered an opportunity to chose her own tree. "It's such an intimate relationship, darling," Lady Constance offered. "My ropes will positive clamp you to the tree. And you'll spend the day together. Best not chose one too great in diameter because I'll want to draw your arms back around it to tie your hands."
In considering her day, Jill was soon wishing she had kept quite about the trees. At first it had sounded like a fun idea, but now she was having second thoughts. Perhaps a cell might be better. Sitting on a bench with her ankles locked in stocks might not be all that bad. While at the same time, Connie's tight ropes would probably be not that good. But she had asked for it, and dared not complain. Finally she picked a tree.
"You've made a good choice," Lady Constance approved. "It's nice and smooth and just right for the binding of your arms. Back up to it."
It was a fine, soft trunk and Jill found it impossible to stifle thoughts of perhaps escaping the ropes, followed by flight and freedom. But those thoughts were immediately dispelled by the way Lady Constance bound her to the tree. First her handcuffs were remove but not the leg irons. Jill knew that she wouldn't make it a dozen steps before Lady Constance would be on her with the riding crop she carried at her side. Meekly, Jill allowed herself to be backed up to the tree and her arms pulled around behind the trunk. It was frustrating but she couldn't think of what else to do. Her wrists were crossed and tied together with tight cords. Then half a dozen loops of rope were tightly wrapped around her middle, pressing her hard against the tree and narrowing her waist considerably. She wanted to complain but wasn't sure it would do any good. Besides, complain tended to earn one extra punishment around this place.
Lady Constance used her little key to remove the leg irons. But now free feet would do her little good. Her arms and waist were secured tightly to the tree. Absorbed in her work. Lady Constance said no word as she pulled Jill's feet apart and back to tie them on either side of the base of the tree. Then she stepped back to survey her handiwork with pride.
"You look delightful, darling." The soft, feminine voice was rich with love.
"I don't feel delightful, and I hope no one comes near to see the disgraceful way you've tied my legs apart. Do you really have to tie them like that?"
"Prisoners don't have secrets. You won't be crossing your legs while I have you."
Jill now eyed another length of rope in her mistress' hand. "Don't tell me you've got to tie me any more. I'm helpless already the way you've got me tied."
"This is just for effect, darling. If you could see what I'm going to do, you'd be as pleased as I am. I don't want any more complaints."
The girl being bound bore the cut of fresh ropes in sulky silence while her mistress took studious care and thoughtfulness in binding back the young, bare shoulders, and criss-crossing the ropes to frame the lovely breasts. "That looks very nice, darling," Lady Constance said as she stepped back to survey the tight ropes about the very beautiful young body. "There is one other thing I can do, darling. You're not likely to know about it because you're not used to being tied to a tree, are you?"
"No, I'm not, and I wish I hadn't said a word about trees today. Oh, Connie, I'm starting to hurt already."
"You'll get used to it. If you don't like the fresh air, I can lock you in a cell tomorrow. Castle Rintoule really does try to please."
"You're not really going to do anything else to me, are you?"
"I think I should. There's a subtle punishment in which a couple of ropes come down from the bands around your waist to pass between your legs to outline or little puss. Then they get drawn up good and tight behind to squeeze your sex so that you're aware of it all day."
"Please, I don't want orgasms."
"You won't get any, dear. These two nice thin ropes will simply hurt."
"And I suppose if I complain, I get whipped?"
"That's right, dear, you're learning fast. Now, see here's the way this works."
A naked girl painfully and helplessly tied to a tree watched the departure of Lady Constance. Jill had been hungrily kissed, her nipples tweaked, and told to be a good girl before she was left alone with the final indignity of the crotch cords tugged tight within the lips no one was suppose to see. She could not see them herself and, while they were not painful beyond bearing, they were a constant nagging reminder that she was a girl wickedly exposed for any passerby.
Except for her head, Jill could not move. Every rope cutting her skin and tightly indented in her flesh contributed its own to her immobility. Her breasts seemed huge and terrifyingly vulnerable. She might have shared Connie's laughter and endured the crotch cords for five or ten minutes had their binding been in play. But the day stretched endlessly ahead and all she could feel down there was a shameful bum. Jill's gaze roved the pleasant vista of tress and grass and flowers. She was utterly alone.
The tied girl tried not to think of mice and other creatures who undoubtedly lived in the outdoors. But it was not long before what she thought of as "UFO's" discovered her expanse of pink skin to alight thereon and sample its quality. Most of the things that chose to sample her flavor she could not name. There were only a few flies but some other types of flying bugs seemed to like her flesh even more than flies. There would undoubtedly be mice if she were left there long enough, of that she was sure. And that brought up the possibility of her remaining there into the darkness hours-a frightening prospect she refused to think about.
Slowly she became a part of the little wood in which she had chosen her tree. Had she wished to doze off within her bonds, she soon learned she would not be alone long enough to let that happen. Everything with wings found her of interest. She could not move.
It was not until mid-day when the pain of the ropes had become a steady throb and no visit from Constance had occurred, when the wasps made their appearance. The tied girl was frankly frightened. She remembered stories the if you kept quite still they would do you no harm. Jill doubted the truth of it and struggled vainly to find some way of repelling the invasion. The vibrations of the wings were a wicked menace. She could do almost nothing, her only weapon was to blow upon the invaders when they approached her face. Inevitably it was her private place below that drew their attention. So far as her wide open crotch was concern, the ropes buried deep within her was now a protection against invasion. But there was still plenty of soft flesh they could find, and her breasts became, strangely enough, a target for the flying beasts. The wasps were cautious, sensing their prey as very much alive and failing to understand its immobility. But finally one had the courage to make a landing upon the tied girls left nipple. Jill screamed.
The male voice was a miracle, seeming to come from everywhere, and a second miracle was the male hand flicking the wasp from its perch and waving the rest away. "I don't suppose he would have strung you, Miss Prospect. Have you been standing her all morning?"
Jill did not answer but was very much aware of male eyes upon her nakedness. "Please cover me, you shouldn't be seeing me like this."
"I don't see why, you appear most attractive."
"I'm naked, that's why. Please cover me enough to make me decent. Please?"
Fingal looked around. "Sorry, Miss Prospect, not a fig leaf in sight. Would you like to be untied?"
"Yes, oh, please, please, please!"
"Her Ladyship told me where you were and the condition I'd find you in. Don't get so worked up about it. You girls with your precious tits and twats!" He laughed at her spreading blush. "You all need a course in being posed when being naked. You all loose your clothes on your wedding night and don't think a thing of it."
"I suppose you're right. But please untie me."
"Don't know why I should. I've a good mind to go and get something to sit on and enjoy that beautiful body of yours. Have you any idea how beautiful your shape is? Damn it, you're positive prime!"
"Please don't tease. I'm hurting. Please get me out of these ropes."
"If I untie you, what do you aim to do then?"
"Don't worry, I won't run away. You can tie my hands or whatever you want." Jill snorted indignantly. "I'm becoming a model prisoner."
"Did Constance give you a bad time?"
"Probably not by your standards. I suppose everything considered, she's been sweet and kind. I like her."
"She's pure gold. If Tommy didn't have her cinched and hogtied, I'd be after her, myself." Fingal chuckled at the question he saw in her eyes. "You'll find me using a lot of yankee phrases, sweetheart. I spend a lot of time in the USA, raising funds or keeping out of sight when the need arises. I don't know where I'd be without the good, old USA."
"I'm enjoying our conversation, honestly I am, but couldn't I be untied?"
Fingal took his time. The naked girl suspected he had spoken no more than truth in his statement he wished to sit and look at her naked body. It was as if Lady Constance had bound her so wickedly exposed for his special pleasure. She kept silence as rope after rope was peeled from within her flesh, gasping in a strangely pleasurable pain as the peeling process set her free. When she took her first free step, her thanks were sincere. She longed to kiss this strange man in gratitude, but Fingal was not a man a girl kissed easily. Naked she stood rubbing her wounds and very aware of Fingal's gaze upon her private parts.
"Stand still, sweetheart. I'm not through with you yet."
It was to be expected. But no matter how Fingal tied her, it was likely to be less painful than the bindings by which the ropes had held her to the tree. Jill stood passively while her wrists were crossed behind her back and tied tightly in a manner very familiar. She wondered why Fingal didn't use handcuffs as a matter of convenience. When she felt her elbows looped with cord, she broke away to exclaim fearfully, "Oh, not my elbows! Please not my elbows. Can't you understand how terribly it hurts?"
"It also keeps little girls from trying to run away or get their hands loose. Stand still."
Jill stood shamefully still while rope was looped and knotted tightly to create its own fresh wounds. She was once more helpless and wanted to cry. When Fingal used more rope to belt her waist, she knew instantly his intention. "Not a crotch rope, don't do that, it's horrible!" Jill stepped back to stare in a mixture of fear and defiance at the smiling face of this man who held her life in thrall. "It hurts and its indecent and it doesn't serve any useful purpose except to make me feel helpless."
"Good. Spread your legs a bit, I want to make a good job of this."
"But why? I don't see why?"
"Anything that gets you this worked up has to be good for you. I want you tame enough so you'll stop arguing. You know I'm going to do it so you might as well stop all this bickering."
Damn him, he was right! The helpless girl knew she would submit and bear the naked shame of the binding of her loins. Desperately seeking evasion or delay, she said something so outrageous as to cause the familiar blush to flare her cheeks. "Please don't do it to me now, I need to pee-pee."
"Nothing to stop you taking a leak. Miss Prospect. Go right ahead."
"You're impossible. Surely you know a girl can't possibly do it with a man watching. At least have the decency to turnaround."
"So you can run away?"
"I'm not going to run away with my arms tied the way you've got them, they hurt too much. Please, Mr. Fingal, be reasonable."
"I'm being reasonable. You can take your leak. I don't mind if you take ten minutes to get going. Get with it or I'll tie you as you are."
"You're playing with me, having fun in your own way. Haven't you the least streak of decency?"
"Stop nattering."
There was nothing else she could do. Jill Prospect looked at the smiling male in desperation, then from side to side without finding any source of help. With a small sight, she began the act that no man should watch, praying he would die of shame for having watched her. Or be struck by lightning as punishment for the act.
The task finished, Fingal had her stand a few feet away and ordered her to spread her legs. With sure fingers he wrapped the rope around her waist and between her legs, cinching it tight into the soft flesh of her private place. Jill realized helplessness.
"Okay, sweetheart, try it out."
"You mean you want me to walk? You want me to hurt myself? I can't take a step without pain. You've got the damned thing far too tight."
"Do it anyway."
Jill took a few steps and then came back to stare him in the face. "Well?"
"Looks damned nice to me. Don't worry about how it hurts when you're walking, we won't be walking all that far. I couldn't bring your car because every copper between here and London is looking for it. But I've got one of my own. That make you feel better?"
"This beastly tie you've put on me will hurt, no matter what. Please, Mr. Fingal, don't make me wear it."
"Shut up! Look, girl, don't call me 'Mister.' All I get called is Fingal and that's good enough for me."
"Well, you've been damned formal with me with your 'Miss Prospect this', and 'Miss Prospect that.' My name is Jill."
Her captor unexpectedly took her chin and then kissed her with a fine, masculine arm around her shoulders. She was then led away.
CHAPTER FOUR - CUT CORD
It was impossible to be comfortable in the little car. The constricted captive changed position again and again in a search for comfort but, bound as she was, there could be no comfort. Jill knew without doubt that Fingal was well aware of her discomfort and enjoyed every twinge of the ropes by which he had bound his captive. At last Jill could bear it no longer and exclaimed, "You're being beastly to me. There's no need to keep me trust up like a turkey. Are you sure you're not a sadist?"
"Probably some." He seemed to dismiss her accusation casually.
"Look, you've got me as helpless as a girl can get. Is there anything I can say or do that will get you to untie me? My elbows are hurting. And those beastly ropes inside my... You know what."
"Not a thing, luv. You're exactly the way a girl should be." Playfully Fingal pinched a nipple. "By the way, Constance knows I'm taking you. Aren't you curious about why?"
"Sure I'm curious but I'd a lot sooner be untied than find out."
"The Rintoules are a power in the land, there's a lot more to Tommy than meets the eye. This coming week there's a hoard of VIP's descending on the castle to talk business and politics and goodness knows what else. It's best, therefore, that you be away from the place. If some of the big wigs want a tour, Tommy can show them the downstairs as a curiosity. If the found you in one of the cells, they'd blow their tops. See what I mean?"
"Yes, I suppose so. Where are you taking me?"
"I don't suppose you want to work for The Cause, luv? But that's exactly what you're going to do. We've decided to put you up for ransom."
"But my people don't have any money, you're wasting your time."
"It's not your people, it's a collection of ancient crows and old bastards who should have been long since dead. They've got more money than they know what to do with and they'll part with some of it to see you whipped everyday in glorious technicolor. You might bring us in as much as ten million."
"That's ridiculous. No one is going to pay a penny for me."
"We think they will, sweetheart, if it's handled properly. We'll take a bunch of pictures of you undergoing various distresses, and make sure they get them. I am not going to show you to the boys who don't believe what I say about your being a beauty. If you were a homely girl, the whole thing would fall flat. But a girl with your looks and figure is going to reach to reach out and grad a lot of people, and a lot of money."
"I have to be tortured for this cause?"
"Not really, Jill. You may earn yourself a bit of pain because you're still not cooperating, but not that much. Of course, we'll make sure that the little tortures you are pictured in are real. Wouldn't want anyone to see them as faked. But no permanent damage will be done."
Jill sighed and held back protest at coming pain. She knew herself slipping into apathy in the awful helplessness she could not escape. Fingal and Rintoule with their damned silly "Cause" could kick her this way and that. The nagging bum of bound elbows plus the scold of the crotch ropes spoke only of submission. If Jill Prospect had once believed in the possibility of escape, she did not believe it now. Miserably, she inquired, "I hope you don't intend to exhibit me to his group of your friends while I'm in this condition?"
"That's why you're in that condition, luv. Those lovely curves of yours will sell you better than any talking I could do. By the way, they'll treat you like gentlemen, you won't be raped."
"I'm supposed to be grateful?"
"You should be, but I can give them freedom to do as they wish... If you want a bit of fun."
They drove on for a while before Fingal added, as if it had just occurred to him as an amusing thought, "There's even a girl or two in the group. But they could be worse to you than any of the boys. Girls don't like other girls, and especially very pretty girls, like you."
Jill did not answer that. She devoutly wished she had been left at Castle Rintoule. Lady Constance, with all her quaint notions of how to treat a female prisoner, now seemed kind and gentle and warm. Jill's immediate concern was to talk Fingal into not exhibiting her naked before a group of men she could think of only as murders. Bluntly she said, "You insist on trying to show me to you men while I'm naked like this, I'll kick and scream and curl myself into a ball."
"Do that, sweetheart, there's riding crops and whips where we're going. If I turn Colleen loose on you, you'll soon behave."
It was a huge old farmhouse with an equally oversized bam. Men were working in the yard and the fields, while a girl walked from the huge vegetable garden to the house carrying a basket. Fingal drew up to the house to await her arrival.
"Her name's Jill Prospect, and, Colleen, I want you to look after her, she's in your care. Punish her if you need to, but I want her presentable to show the boys after supper. I'm going to get rid of the car now, but I'll be back."
"A pretty bitch!" the girl said as she tilted Jill's chin. "You can trust me, Fingal, she'll not be getting herself free. Someone's used a crop on her ass already, I see."
"Yes, but never mind that." Fingal was obviously in a hurry. "Her neck is leashed and she's scared to death of being seen naked. You may have to plant a few strips to persuade her to face the boys."
Fingal and the car were suddenly gone. Jill stood unhappily as Colleen possessed herself of the dangling rope. She gave it a sharp jerk for starters before saying, "You're a pretty piece, indeed, so you are. You'll bring us money."
There was the inevitable ring in the kitchen wall. Jill's leash was tied to it and she was told to stand and watch while Colleen prepared the veggies in the basket. The Irish girl seemed unconcerned with her new possession. Conversationally, while she peeled potatoes, she said, "Fingal did good job on you, so he did. I'm thinking you'll not be getting loose."
"If it means anything, he did indeed do a damned good job," Jill said remorsefully. "I'm hurting and there's no need for it."
"Do you good. You're English, aren't you? And I'd like to see every English girl stripped and tied the way you are. Suffer a while. I'll bet those crotch cords inside your cunt are bothering you."
"I don't see any point in those cords. I don't think Fingal actually dislikes me, so I don't know why he tied me this way. Look, Colleen, I absolutely shouldn't be shown to his friends while I'm tied like this. It's obscene!"
"It's a nice idea, it is. And I don't see what you're complaining about." Colleen sniffed and tossed a potato into the pot. "If I wanted to punish you. I'd show you what it's really like to be properly tied."
The conversation seemed unprofitable, Jill let it drop. But then the last potato had been peeled, a surprising thing occurred. Colleen came to the wall and thoughtfully played with captive nipples while their owner trembled in a terrible expectancy. But quite suddenly Jill was turned around by strong, young hands when then fumbled with Fingal's knots and a minute later the punished elbows were peeled free of rope. The belt and crotch ropes were also removed. In confused gratitude the captive girl gave thanks and knew herself flushed and awkward beneath the amused look of Irish eyes.
"I'm thinking that will be a lot better for you, Miss Prospect," Colleen noted without any visible sign of good intent. "Men don't think about what they're doing when they tie a girl. I've been tied myself so I know. Now, don't you be asking me to untie your hands, or take that noose off your neck. Do you understand?"
Jill understood, she was so flushed with thankfulness and release from pain, she would ask nothing more. Evidently Colleen had an Irish heart hidden beneath an gruff exterior. Knowing she could never free herself, Jill did not try. She had come to accept the loss of her hands as a fact of life, and wondered ruefully if she would ever have the use of them again.
The two girls ate early, before the men returned. The still naked captive being fed by a spoon in the hand of a girl who seemed to think their condition unworthy of comment. Jill was then led to a bedroom and her leash tethered to the bed rail while Colleen went downstairs to serve the men.
Jill was conscious of a fast beating heart in anticipation of the coming ordeal, an ordeal she had sworn to fight. Yet, how could she fight? A rope circled her neck and cords held tight her wrists behind her back. She was better off than previously but still helpless. She could neither fight or run and was having disquieting visions of being manhandled into whatever postures the men might desire. Disgustedly she knew she would do as she was told.
Jill examined her leash-it was fastened well beyond her reach. But there was enough slack for her to lay upon the bed and wait. It was better than standing. For something to occupy her mind, she wondered idly if Colleen had possibilities. Colleen had been kind and Jill was grateful.
When Colleen returned Jill was treated to a bath, cosmetics, and a hairdo. Scrubbed and dried, and presentable, she looked inquiringly at her jailer and got the answer she did not want to hear. "Sorry, Miss Prospect, I've got to tie you again. Please don't be awkward."
Leached and without hands, being awkward was nearly impossible. Knowing the bitterness of defeat, Jill stood in pathetic compliance while rope bit and joined bare elbows, and the hateful crotch binding was again placed upon her loins. In the grip of a fearful anxiety, Jill was led downstairs.
They were the most ordinary group of men to be found anywhere. Obviously they had spruced up for the occasion but did not turn in unison to eye their captive visitor. They continued their talk while Colleen positioned their captive in the center of the lounge. Colleen patted the many-hued bottom, dropped the leash, and announced in a firm voice, "Here she is, gentlemen, have yourselves a good look while I'll be helping myself to a drink."
By Jill's normal judgement, these men would have been murders, all were killers for The Cause. It all depended on your point of view. As though loath to give her the satisfaction of being admired, they took their time in bringing their attention upon this naked girl. Their comments were diverse.
"Look at that cunt."
"We should do something with those saucy tits."
"She's had her arse well whipped, and that wouldn't be Fingal, I don't suppose."
"You got her fixed for sure, Colleen, you scared she'll run?"
The unhappy object of their comments stood awkwardly like a cow in an auction pen, and was painfully aware of her blushing. The comments became more personal.
"Fingal says we're not to fuck this one."
"Who wants to, anyway? She's a lousy Brit."
"I'd do her for sure if I got the chance."
A middle aged man detached himself and came close to say gently, "You won't be harmed, miss. You may be punished if you do something silly, but we're not the sort of men you think we are. I've got a wife and a family." The male voice sank lower. "You can trust Fingal, lass, he's a good boy."
The whole thing became quickly civilized. Colleen held a drink to captive lips and whispered while the bound girl drank, "You're doing fine, miss. Keep it up and they'll all love you. Maybe I'll love you, too."
"Wasn't so bad after all, was it?" The second drink was placed against captive lips. 'This business of being naked is damned silly when you figure it out. Why shouldn't men look at a naked girl's body? We look at theirs. Not that most of them are worth a second glance. You been fucked often or not at all?"
"I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."
"That means you've been fucked several times and didn't get much out of it," Colleen said wisely. "If you want to get something out of it, you'd better do it with Fingal. He's the best of them. I think after you've killed a number of times, the thrill of pulling the trigger replaces the thrill of pointing the prick. Most of these fellows wouldn't screw you if you laid down and spread your legs."
"Untie the little filly, we'll catch her if she runs away." The voice from the group held mockery. "We'll square things with Fingal if he finds out. She's a beauty, all right, but for my money. I'd sooner see her free."
Jill could have loved the man. She looked at Colleen inquiringly, well aware of being slightly tipsy. Male voices left Colleen with no doubt as to what she should do. She untied Jill.
"Her hands, too. She has to have her hands." The demand was insistent. When Jill stood free from bonds she could have cried from the absence of pain and the good will she sensed from the members of The Cause, who were no far busier with Dewars Black Label and other bottles than with the nudity of a girl who would make them rich. Colleen's voice at her side was alive with laughter, "There you are, dear, you're free. I'll leave the leash around your neck unless they want it off. But you're free enough to do whatever you want. Go ahead and enjoy yourself."
Jill looked at the girl. "How do I do that? I mean, enjoy myself? I've got a feeling these men could care less."
"That's right, Miss Prospect, their sex is in the bottle. I've managed to persuade it to come out once or twice but it's not worth the effort."
"You mean they're impotent?"
"Not really. It's a mental thing. If you spent your whole life planning death, you'd feel the same way." Colleen laughed bitterly. "Men are ridiculous!"
Jill could not tell how it happened but without obvious intent she was included in the party. Men asked questions and offered opinions. They shared with her the potent liquor and she found herself growing more than a little tipsy. They talked boldly but did nothing.
"Want me to grab a handful of what you've got down there, Miss Prospect?"
"I'd like to bite those lovely tits, would you mind?"
"We'd like you to bend her over for half a dozen real hard ones with the crop."
Jill emerged unscathed. And when the party broke up was mostly unhappily returned to normal by Colleen's whisper, "Cross your wrists behind your back, dear, you've had your fun."
It was strangely comforting to have her hands bound once again. Jill had felt nakedly awkward and less of herself than need be while circling among the men. As Colleen's cords bit the captive girl once more knew exactly where she was.
"Fingal isn't here so you can share my bed," Colleen said as she exerted pressure on the leash. "Fingal's a strange man and there's no telling what he's want of you. Maybe nothing at all."
Jill exerted herself to bring her bound hands partly into view above a bare hip. "Is this all, Colleen? I mean, you're not going to put those other horrible ropes on me for the night, are you?"
"I'll tie your ankles, that's all. You'll still be here in the morning."
Jill watched her ankles bound together. Binding was becoming commonplace for her. A girl simply held still while someone made her more helpless than before. When her feet were clamped tight together, she was tossed on the bed to lay there while Colleen stripped off her clothes. The body revealed was a very fine one, indeed. Colleen had nothing to be ashamed about. The Irish girl slipped into bed, pulled Jill close and covered both of them with the blankets. At first Jill tensed but Colleen's hands did not start exploring her body. Instead the untied girl seemed content to press their bodies together. After a few minutes Jill slipped into sleep.
"It seems we've got work to do," said Colleen the following morning. "I have to pain whip marks on your back."
"What?" asked Jill in wonderment.
"Fingal says that he wants photographs of you with whip marks on your back but he also says not to actually whip you right now. So I pain whip marks on. Simple, no?"
Jill didn't understand but also didn't argue. It would be too easy for Colleen to put real whip marks on her back.
"If I untie you so I can position you for the camera, do you promise not to give me a bad time?"
"I'm not giving anyone a promise not to try and escape if I get the change. Is that what you mean?"
"That's what I mean, but don't worry about it. I can tie your feet so you can't run. If you give me any trouble then, maybe I won't have to pain whip marks."
It would always be the same, her life governed by rope and cord and chains. And above all the terrible agony of the whip. Jill's voice was bitter, "You don't have to worry, Colleen, I'll behave."
The stretch of bare wall had not been significant yesterday, but now it was. The rings were waiting for her wrists as Jill thrust herself against the rough plaster and Colleen explained, "We have to be careful with the pictures that they don't give clues for the coppers. This stretch of wall you're up against tells then nothing." Colleen paused awkwardly. "Look, I know how you feel about escaping, so I'm not going to give you the chance. We won't have to worry. I'm going to tie your feet."
Once more sensation of having done this thing all her life. Jill stood passively in apathetic indifference. If she were not bound in one way, it would be another. So what did it matter? She stood there on tight-tied feet, while her hands were freed, only to be tied to the rings above. This left her standing in the conventional pose of a flogged girl, hands well apart above her head, her back bare and virgin for the lash. "I don't use paint and a brush the way Fingal probably told you," Colleen laughed. "The best thing is wet crayons, which I can rub into your skin to get the effect of natural looking discolorations. It comes out real well on the camera."
To have the Irish girl busy on her bare back, Jill was comforted by the knowledge she was not about to be whipped. Apparently there was some compassion in The Cause, despite what Fingal had told her.
The captive girl was not immediately untied after Colleen finished what she laughingly called, "art work." Within minutes a surprising amount of gear in the way of cameras and lighting had been dragged into place and the tied girl became the focus of attention.
"I'm going to take a lot of pictures," Fingal advised. "And what we want you to do is to constantly struggle, act as though you are in agony from the whip. Tugged at your wrists, weave your hips, look over your back at us imploringly. Anything you think you might do under the circumstances." He chuckled. "If it will be any help, we'll give you a few licks to get you started."
It was not hard to obey. Jill wanted freedom and fought for it with all her strength. She fought the cords around her wrists with tugs and straining that were for real. The camera clicked away.
The bare, plastered wall served as an ideal studio. Untied from it, the girl, still with bound feet, was surprised to see a two foot long bar lowered itself from the ceiling to rest suspended before her eyes. At each end it held a loop, loop that were seemingly far too small to be on concern to any girl. No longer caring about her nakedness, Jill watched the snaring of her thumbs in those loops, and then in growing compression, saw the bar raise up before her face. Suddenly she realized this sequence was not to be simulated. It was for real!
Miss Jill Prospect had heard of people suspended by their thumbs. That it should happen to her was unthinkable and impossible. When her bound feet had left the floor, she found herself swinging in space, thumbs screaming their agony. Fingal's voice consoled, "No more than a minute, love. Throw your head around and give all the signs you can invent. Hold it, hold it... Just one minute."
When it was over she realized Fingal had spoken the truth. But with her nakedness swinging slowly back and forth, bound feet protesting, the pain was such it could have been an hour or a day. Jill was positive her thumbs were lost forever. When her feet were lowered to the floor, she was trembling in shock.
Unexpectedly Fingal's arms were around her, his voice alive with warmth. "We'll do it as little as possible, sweetheart, and when we do it, we'll make it as short as possible." He kissed her.
The brief torture plus Fingal's kiss left the captive of The Cause confused. It was simply too much for a girl to cope with, but as Jill panted her way back to reality, she discovered her thumbs were not injured. They hurt, but she could move them and surprisingly little damage had been done.
The next scene involved a couple of sawhorses and a section of plywood with the familiar rings at its four comers. It told her something of what was still to come. But in the beginning there was only the hard surface of the wood and the tight binding of her wrists and ankles to spread-eagle her for another ordeal she could not guess. Once more she was shamingly conscious of the exposure of her sex. There was Fingal, the cameraman, and one other who could not view every treasure she possessed, but who seemed strangely indifferent to her charms.
When Fingal raised her hips high enough to bow her back, he slipped under her a metal spiked piece of wood, and Jill know what her torture was to be. Gently, Fingal relinquished hold upon the bare hips to caution, "Just another minute, love. If you keep arched the spikes won't touch you. Give us a feel of those and then lower your back to make contact. The expression on your face will do nicely."
For the first few moments, Jill knew only panic as she fought the four bindings which held her above the spikes. In a terrible fear of the metal spears beneath her back, she arched her nude body as far as she could while the camera clicked approval. Returning reason told her to allow the contract Fingal had advised, and that she did with a fearful caution. "You're doing fine, love. Just a few seconds... " Jill became used to the simulated tortures, and some, like that hanging by your thumbs, not so simulated. The very idea of standing before men, naked, bound up and being subjected to tortures lost its terror. She even forgot the camera clicking away, recording her nudity and travail for others to see. Part of her mind wondered at the mercy being shown by The Cause in making these tortures make believe.
There was even a scene in which Jill's hands were tied behind her back, she was placed upon a packing crate, and a hangman's noose placed around her neck. It was a picture needing no words of explanation. By that time Jill had given up being afraid, knowing only a terrible weariness which resulted in male assurances that the resulting expressions on her face was exactly according to their need.
"Do you want me to tie her again," Colleen inquired while the men were cleaning up their gear.
"Well, of course," Fingal said, leaving no doubt that she was still very much a prisoner. "Hands behind her back, at least. If you have to leave her alone, tie her feet. Or use the leash from her neck."
It was hateful to be treated as an object, a piece of baggage to be tucked away. Jill wailed despairingly, "Do you have to? For goodness sake! I don't know if I've even got hands anymore. Give me a break, leave me free for a little while."
Fingal looked at his watch. "Okay," he said crisply, "You can have an hour. You can help Colleen with whatever job she has so she can keep an eye on you. If you break and run for it, you'll wish you hadn't."
It was better than Jill had hoped for. She followed them out to their cars, jogging in small circles and throwing stones in the joy of freedom. She was invited to join the camera crew and Fingal in a drink, and for a little while life was as it should be. The captive girl had become accustomed to nakedness. At the height of Jill's enjoyment Fingal said abruptly, "Go and have Colleen tie your hands again and put the collar around your neck. We've got to go."
Colleen shrugged and produced the familiar cord. As it bit Jill's skin, she begged, "It was so wonderful to be free! Can't you arrange it for me from time to time? Ask Fingal if he'll accept my promise not to escape. I'd love to run around the field."
"And over the hill and far away," Colleen said cynically.
When Jill made the same request of Fingal she got an abrupt negative, but he took her arm and led her out of earshot of the others. "Look, sweetheart, it could be we've been wasting our time with these pictures," He told her seriously. "I've had an offer for you which is damned attractive."
"An offer for me?" Joy departed from her voice. "What do you mean, an offer?"
"I know someone who wants to buy you. they'll pay a cool couple of million. Maybe not as much as the pictures might bring but it's safe and easy."
"Women aren't bought and sold anymore!" Jill looked at him askance. "And, anyway, I'm damned sure no one is going to pay two million pounds for me. What on earth would this person want me for?"
"A pet."
"You're joking. Please don't make me any more frightened than I am already. Do I know this person?"
"It's Lady Constance."
Jill Prospect was stunned. Her first thought was feminine. "She mustn't do that, I'm not worth it. And I like her too much to see her spend that kind of money. Oh, Fingal...!"
"It's a lot of money to you or I, sweetheart. But to the Rintoule's it's a drop in the bucket. Tom's worth a few hundred million if he's worth a penny." Fingal laughed without humor. "You appear to have made an impression on them."
"Why do you tell me this? Do I have a choice?"
"If I thought Connie would be really mean to you. I'd give you a choice. In fact, you've got a choice anyway. If you want me to reject Connie's offer, you can say so right now and that's the end of it."
"If I don't, I have to stay here tied up indefinitely while you bargain about my ransom, is that right?"
"That's about right, Jill. The decision you have to make is to forget escape, forget someone setting you free, forget thinking that sometime somewhere you will untie yourself. None of that will happen."
"I thought you said it wasn't safe for me to return to Castle Rintoule? Those people you mentioned?"
"That's only for a week. You can put up with Colleen for that long. She feels sorry for you and won't be cruel."
Jill stood bewildered. She had no faith in the pictures and the ransom. To circulate such graphic pictures of her being tortured would do The Cause more harm than good. She supposed it had been Fingal's followers who thought up the idea. That left only Lady Constance. Lady Constance was a darling and loveable. But it had been Lady Constance who had put the whip marks on her skin. Suddenly Jill asked, "Why don't you take me with you. I've been no trouble, and you can keep me tethered. So why not take me with you?"
"You're talking nonsense, girl, there's no way I can do that. You're far better off with Lady Constance or Colleen."
"But two million pounds... And you say she'll keep me as a pet? How long will she keep me as a pet?"
"She's figuring on a life sentence. You'd be a privileged prisoner."
"For life! That's absurd!"
"Not for two million pounds, luv." Fingal laughed at her dismay. "Look, luv, I should tell you about that two million pounds. It's probably just a large contribution to The Cause because the Rintoule's regularly make money available. They also give me a safe place to live and a safe place to park my occasional prisoners. You're not the first foolish girl to come here as a tourist when she would have been a damned sight better off in Brighton. Stop dithering, Jill, I've got to get away."
"Can't I stay here with Colleen? She's clever with knots."
"No."
"Okay then. I'll chose Lady Constance."
She was kissed and patted affectionately and thrust towards the waiting Colleen. It seemed only a minute before Fingal and his men were gone. An unnatural quiet settled on the homestead. With a tug at the leash, Jill accompanied her jailer to the kitchen and the iron ring waiting in the wall. Fort the tethered girl the whole affair was taking on a shocking resemblance to normalcy.
* * *
It was on the second day the two policemen came. Their uniforms were frightening in the peaceful scene. They darkened the kitchen door quite suddenly while Colleen was ironing shirts and Jill seated on a high stool, hands behind her back and her tether tied to the ring she could not reach. As though in justification for the intrusion, the uniformed man explained, "Well, if it isn't Nancy Kelly! Last time I saw you, my girl, you were going up for six months. Didn't expect to find you here."
Jill was electrified! Here was rescue, here was freedom! Here was an end to all the bizarre nonsense of The Cause. But she was held speechless by Colleen's obvious distress and police joy. "I served my time, so I did," Colleen said hotly. "You don't have a thing on me. Or is ironing shirts now a crime in Ireland?"
There was no immediate official response. The eyes of the law were now focused upon a naked girl seated on a high stool, hands tied, and neck roped. Their response was classic.
"And what have we got here?"
Colleen's face, which should have been scarlet with the blush of embarrassment, was white with fear. Should these policemen make a search, they would take her away with them as a proven member of The Cause. Jill's rapid reflections were interrupted by an official insinuation, "You two girls wouldn't be having anything to do with the trouble makers, would you? If you've gone over to Fingal and his boys, it's not six months you'll be doing but more like six years."
Colleen was frightened, there could be no doubt of it. No doubt all sorts of charges could be brought against her and quite likely the farmstead would yield the sort of clues the policemen needed for an arrest. Suddenly the vision of Colleen behind bars for the rest of her youthful life was something not to be born. "You'd better untie me, Nancy, and cover me up," Jill said as casually as she could. To the policeman she added, "It's a silly game Nancy and I play. Please don't take offense at seeing me naked."
The uniforms were suspicious but watched cautiously as Nancy Kelly took her cue. Using a knife to cut the cords from Jill's wrists and deftly freeing the captive neck. "Go get dressed," she said tersely.
"You'll be staying right here, young woman. You can use that blanket on the couch for decency. It's a search we'll be making and the two of you will come with us. This whole thing smells of trouble."
With Jill feeling ridiculous beneath the covering, and Nancy Kelly stiff with fear, the girls obeyed. But the search yielded nothing. If there was incriminating evidence on the farm, it was well hidden. The uniforms were obviously put out by not finding what they expected. They told Jill to get her clothes on and be decent again. And not to play such damned fool games. "If you'd been outside the house, miss, we'd be taking you in for indecent exposure, so we would." They accompanied a much relieved Colleen downstairs. Thankfully, Jill helped herself to enough of the Irish girls clothing to make herself presentable. Rejoining the group, she found the policemen quaffing a glass of Guinness, and joking with the girl they knew as Nancy Kelly about the possible results of Saturday's soccer match. The atmosphere ceased to be electric and have come benign. Uniforms told Colleen they were pleased to find her following the straight and narrow and holding down a decent, but advised Jill stiffly that if she wanted to play silly games and take her clothes off, she should do so in her bedroom. They were obviously chagrined over being unable to think up a law by which they could take her into custody. They departed the farmhouse with expressions of good will.
The two girls stood and stared, Jill's face betraying a terrible indecision while Colleen exhibited only relief, a relief to cause her to clasp her captive in her arms to kiss and hug in a demonstration of gratitude.
"If you'd told them who you are, I'd have gone up for life," she sobbed. "If you'd done anything at all to cause them to take you away with them, I'd have had the biscuit, and that's the truth. Oh, Jill, how can I ever thank you!"
As is usual in such human affairs, Jill was now feeling remorse at a lost opportunity. If she had told the policemen she was kidnapped, they would have taken her back to a world of freedom. And Miss Nancy Kelly would have been handcuffed and bound for a different destination. But she was still free and she was clothed, benefits denied for far too long. Jill supposed she could still walk out of the farmhouse and down the road, and take her chances on who might pick her up. She looked at the weeping Colleen. "I couldn't do it, I just couldn't. I know I'm in trouble myself but I just couldn't cause you to go to prison." In her turn she hugged her jailer. "Colleen, you've been kind to me. I simply couldn't do it. What happens now?"
They drew apart, Colleen dabbing at wet cheeks, and Jill wondering why she stayed and did not run. Somewhere in her mind a joyful young woman was proclaiming, "You're free, free, free!"
Colleen was suddenly matter-of-fact. She looked at the clock. What she now asked was a loaded question, "What are you going to do now?"
"Is there any reason why I shouldn't just go, walk down the road and take my chances? Someone would probably take pity on me and drive me home." Jill looked at Colleen's still tearful face. "Is that what I should do? Is it?"
"If it is what you're wanting, and I suspect it is. I'll not try and stop you"
" What happens to you then, Colleen?"
"I expect I'll get the worst whipping of my life for letting you escape." Colleen shook her head as though to rid her mind of torments. "But don't let that stop you. Miss Prospect. I can't possibly be unkind to you now. And if the boys whip me, it will be a damned sight better than spending most of the rest of my life behind British bars."
"It wouldn't be British, it would be Irish."
"Whatever. Oh, darling, I'm so grateful I don't care if I'm whipped half to death."
"That's what is going to happen, isn't it?" Jill was suddenly in charge.
"For sure it is. For sure I'll not be telling enough lies to deceive anyone. The boys will whip me and likely throw me in the black hole under the barn for a week." The young voice became fierce. "Don't you worry about me, Miss Prospect. The boys won't kill me, I'm far too useful. And far too loyal to The Cause. Get out of here while you still can."
Once more the meeting of the eyes. Finally Jill said, tonelessly, "I'm not going. They'll be other chances of escape where no one is going to have to pay a price. Thanks, Colleen, but I won't be running over the hill."
It took a long while for Colleen to believe Jill. She was resigned to punishment and quite prepared to kiss her suddenly freed captive goodbye. That the captive refused to go was one more evidence at to who incomprehensible an English girl could be. Brokenly, Colleen said, "If the boys come back and find you free, it will be just as bad as if you'd run away. Don't you understand?"
"I understand, Colleen. Tie me. I suppose I ought to run upstairs and take these clothes off."
Sensing Colleen's agonies of spirit, Jill did exactly that. In five minutes she was back, as bare as any man could wish. She laughed, "You ruined that lovely piece of cord when you cut it with the policeman watching. I hope you've got some more."
"I've more but I'm not wanting to use it. Oh, Miss Prospect, you're an absolute miracle."
"If we know no one would arrive for the next hour or two, I would ask to be free until the time got close. But it's close now, isn't it?"
"Yes, they won't be long."
Jill turned her naked back and crossed her wrists. It had come to be a natural act of her life. If her mind was loaded with guilt over lost opportunity, she made herself deaf to useless regrets over what might have been. 'Tie me tight," she urged. "Fingal often inspects the way I'm tied."
The noose and tether were still intact. With it drawn snug upon her neck. Miss Jill Prospect hoisted herself back upon the stool and returned to captivity. If she had thrown away the chance of a lifetime, it was her own fault and she would deserve whatever came her way.
Seated upon her stool with her wrists once more securely corded, Jill reflected upon the events of the last couple hours, and wondered what Fingal would think of her rescue of Colleen from the clutches of the Law. She had a terrible feeling that, should he fail to understand her choice to remain a prisoner rather than endanger Colleen's freedom, it might seem to him an act impossible to credit. She could have gone away with the police and told her story of her kidnapping and her conflict with The Cause. She would have been out of the country by midnight. Why hadn't she done so? That question weighed heavy on her mind. And she wasn't sure she would be able to explain it to Fingal, either. Colleen, busy with her pots and pans, now voiced doubts of her own. "If we tell what happened and what you did for me, and how you didn't take the chance to escape when you had it, Fingal's going to be suspicious," she offered. "Just doesn't make sense that any girl wouldn't run when she had the chance."
"Well, he can just think what he wants," Jill said without thinking. But after a second's reflection, she offered, "But perhaps we shouldn't tell him at all. If he gets any funny ideas about me, I could find myself tied up in some horrible, extra tight way. I've gotten used to having my hands tied behind my back, but there are worse ways to be tied."
Their conspiracy of silence seemed innocent enough but was doomed to failure. When Fingal and the boys returned, he passed a few casually remarks before absent- mindedly inspecting the cords on Jill's wrists. She had known that he was concerned with keeping her prisoner so the inspection of her bonds was natural enough. His exclamation was instant, "You've got fresh cord on her, Colleen! What the devil's going on?"
It took only a few minutes of questions and answers for the whole story to be revealed. Fingal passed no judgement as to motives but was instant in action. "Damn it, girl, you should have more sense than to hid a thing like that. Those two police were here for a purpose in the first place and they'll be back. When they tell the story about the naked girl with her hands tied, there'll be someone at the police station who might guess who she was. We've got to get out of here. Pack up. We'll go to the Molvane place, and the sooner the better." He turned his attention to a pair of trembling young women. "You two will be dealt with later. Damn it, I would have thought you'd have more sense."
Jill sensed disaster.
CHAPTER FIVE - CANED AND CAGED
The Molvane place was a big old house on a street of big old houses, all of which had big back gardens and tall brick walls. It was beautifully nondescript, as was the cars in which Fingal and his boys drove there in. Miss Jill Prospect made her journey to this fresh refuge bound tight into a blanketed bundle in the back seat of one of the cars. She didn't even see the new prison that was to hold her.
She was dumped upon the floor of a bare and cheerless room and left there as the door slammed shut. It took her fifteen minutes to wiggle out of the blanket with it circling ropes, and be what she had been for so long, a naked girl with her hands tied behind her back and a rope around her neck. By the time she had gotten herself back to his semi-normalcy, she was cursing herself for a fool.
Jill was almost sorry she had saved Colleen's neck when the police came. Now Colleen was in trouble with the boys, she was in tight bondage still, and the boys were mad at having to move.
The room was a cheerless box with a couple of windows looking onto the house next door. Both were heavily barred. Jill felt that both she and The Cause had suffered a social setback.
There wasn't much else to do but try and free her hands, an act without logic but an act almost instinctive. In these dismal surroundings it was hard to think back to her insistence Colleen tie her hands again. In an hour the door was opened and Colleen thrust within, and the door slammed behind her.
The Irish girl was as naked as Jill, her wrists crossed and tied tightly behind her back. She wiggled in awkward embarrassment at her fall from grace. "I'm so embarrassed you should see me like this. It's punished I'm going to be, and you'll be punished, too. Oh, Jill, I'm so sorry."
It would have been nice to cling, but since they had not hands or arms, they rubbed cheeks and frictioned breasts in feminine consolation. Jill, nevertheless, asked, "What are we being punished for? As if I didn't know."
"Fingal and the boys think I've let them down. They also think I gave you a chance to escape." Colleen sniffed unhappily. "I told them over and over about how kind you were and how you didn't want to see me go to prison. But they're suspicious. They think maybe you've got another reason for wanting to stay a prisoner. I expect they think you're a spy."
"That's ridiculous!"
"I know that's ridiculous but that's what they think. They think those two coppers showing up as they did was on account of you. They should have taken you away, and since they didn't, there has to be a reason. Oh, Miss Prospect, I'm so upset, so I am. And they won't believe a word I say."
"Who's going to cook their supper?" Jill inquired.
'They got a girl, Miss, there's lots of girls want to be a part of The Cause. Her name's Millie. There ain't no use expecting help from her."
"I don't suppose we'll get help from anybody. Colleen, you spoke of punishment... What will they do to us?"
"We'll be whipped for sure. I've been whipped a couple of times already because I did or said something they didn't like. They sure enjoy whipping a girl."
It was disquieting. If they suspected Jill of double dealing, she might well be whipped to force secrets out of her. Secrets she did not possess. Men were so silly with their suspicions. Jill knew that she and Colleen deserved no punishments, only praise because they had not given away The Cause. In a spontaneous warmth, the two girls thrust against each other, helpless to do anything but use their lips. They did so in a pathetic need for comfort.
Had food been offered, they could not have eaten it. Instead of food there came one of the boys with a bag of tools. As he worked, he cheerfully explained that his efforts were to provide two suitable devices by which a pair of naughty girls could be suitably whipped. He referred to it as "whipping your arse."
Their next visitor was a young woman who offered only water. Undoubtedly this would be Millie and she greeted Colleen as an old friend but quickly told them both to expect no favors. She would untie no hands. "You're both going to be whipped," she informed them cheerfully. "I love seeing a girl get her bottom stripped, and I'm going to ask Fingal if I can watch. I'll bet you howl your heads off."
That cheerful prediction plus ropes now hanging from the ceiling and other items with sinister intent gave no cheer to either girl. Each of them contemplated the wrath of The Cause from different angles. They discussed their plight and agreed woefully that no matter how you approached the impending ordeal, it was going to hurt.
Fingal and his boys, accompanied by a radiant Millie robbed the room of its coldness and filled it with throbbing life. The boys spread out around the walls to watch Fingal's justice, a justice beginning by the lowering of two trapeze bars from above, the freeing of a pair of maiden hands which were immediately tied tight to a strip of wood which, to Jill, once again had the aspect of an old acquaintance. For her the wrists were bound far tighter than necessary. She watched them raised above her head. When her heels were in danger of leaving the floor, the lifting stopped to leave her standing wickedly naked before the avid eyes of men and the gaze of one woman. Unhappily she turned her head and beheld Colleen fastened in exactly the same way. They exchanged glances that clearly spoke of no hope.
Fingal evidently had a penchant for rituals, and the solemnity of applied justice. As two naked young women stared hopelessly, he delivered the judgement of The Cause. "Twenty stokes for each of you." His words were without anger. "As for you. Miss Prospect, you'll get as many more as it takes to loosen your tongue. You're up to something and I mean to find out what it is."
The luckless prisoner quailed. Her plight would have been bad enough had she possessed a secret, but to be whipped on and on to extract what did not exist was something no girl could cope with. "I'm not up to anything, there's nothing to tell," she said tonelessly. "If you hurt me enough, I'll probably babble some nonsense to make you stop. Is that what you want?"
"I want the truth."
"She's telling you the truth," Colleen wailed in desolation. "Just was just being kind and look what you're doing to her. If it wasn't for Miss Prospect, we'd all be in prison now. You men are so dumb."
It was Colleen's last words as a gag was fitted into her mouth and buckled tight behind her neck. She could moan but that was all.
"She's lying, lace 'em both well, Fingal." It was a voice from the boys and drew applause. Millie added her own touch of bitterness, "She's too damned good looking to be honest. The whip will get it out of her."
Friendless and without a hope, Jill watched Fingal walked back out of sight. A hurried glance over her bare shoulder showed him picking up a cruel looking riding crop. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth.
It was so senseless, so useless, so much terrible mistake. The first sounds that the riding crop drew from innocent flesh were squeals of anger. Jill knew it as terrible wrong but this knowledge seemed hers alone as the riding crop bit deep into the soft rounds.
'Ten each across your rump with the crop before we move on to the whip," pronounced Fingal in a pleasant tone as he went back and forth from one nude girl to the other. Colleen screamed outrageous into her gag. The watchers around the wall breathed heavily in satisfaction.
Unconsciously the two girls danced. First a raised leg when the crop bit, then the other leg as dry lips uttered moans. Here and there a girl lifted herself completely from the floor to kick wildly in a dance of pure anguish. Their punishment was being deliberately prolonged.
Within the pain Jill wondered dully if the long pauses between each stroke made the whipping easier to bear than if it had been delivered swiftly. In spite of their own distress, each girl would turn in fascinated horror to watch her companion dealt the same crop cut as had scolded her own skin just moments before. By the time Fingal set aside the riding crop in exchange for the whip, Colleen and Jill were far gone in a world of agony they knew would never end.
The first stroke told Jill the whip was terribly worse across her back than the crop had been across her ass. It was a new and different kind of pain, sharp and terrible, and it caused her to suck in her breath. She was sure her back was being cut to pieces. But as the boys could see, there were only wicked red lines left where the whip had kissed. Two strokes and Fingal switched to the other girl, delivering her pain in turn.
When each naked girl had received the twenty strokes The Cause had declared atonement for their sins, Colleen was freed and led sobbing from the room. Fingal, still holding his whip, cast a caustic eye upon the audience and suggested they would do well to follow, he wished to be alone to extract in his own way the truth from a female prisoner suspect of plotting against The Cause.
Silence claimed them. They stared at each other across a sea of anguish and suspicion. Jill knew she should hate Fingal for what he had done to a pair of innocent girls but hate was absent from the mute appeal in her eyes. Fingal, at that moment, seemed lost in thought of his own. After a few moments he spoke.
'Tell me the truth, I don't wish to hurt you more."
"You have the truth, Colleen and I both told you the truth." Her voice was filled with emotion.
"If I believed that you wouldn't be hanging as you are."
"Please don't start whipping me again. It's just too awful. You don't know how awful it really is."
Fingal was suddenly gone but the lash was once more at work upon girlish skin. Twenty was a terrible punishment but that it should continue on and on... !
Jill wondered if she could faint.
Jill lost count at forty but the thong sought her still. So great was Jill's agony she failed to realize when it stopped. A moment later she was held in two demanding arms as Fingal kissed her lips again and again, and passionately whispered in her ear, "Damn you, I can't go on. If you've got a secret you can keep it. Stay here a whip and think about The Cause. The Cause could use a girl like you."
Fingal's words were etched upon Jill's mind, but she was still deep in the mists of punishment and failed to know she was now alone. What she knew for sure was a great thankfulness for Fingal's lips and his tribute to her worth.
Scolded and burning from neck to knees, Jill Prospect hung against her ropes and could think only of a freedom she had rejected and now might never know.
It was a long while before Colleen was once more thrust within the place of punishment. She was still naked but otherwise free to throw her arms around Jill's neck, thrust hard with breast to breast, as though striving to weld herself against a nakedness more punished them her own. "Did he hurt you terrible, Jill?" she whispered.
It was good to have a sister to share her travail as she slowly emerged from the mists of pain. Once more a loving whisper in Jill's ear. "Fingal says I can untie you. Would you enjoy that?"
"Of course, why wouldn't I?" Colleen's hot nakedness wiggled against her as though embarrassed. "He says if I untie you I've got to tie your hands again. It seems terrible unkind after all you've done for me."
Jill actually laughed. "If you know how to get my arms down, I wish you would. Don't worry about tying me again."
Colleen was unsure and took some time before the bar was lowered for her to tug and use her teeth upon the knots. When Jill was free, her rope burns were massaged by a girl who's own wounds were probably the equal. Reaching behind her, Jill discovered very painful ridges upon her skin but no blood.
"It's time to tie me again, Colleen," said Jill finally. "Don't give them a chance to punish us any more. Look, here's my wrists, tie them."
"I'm not suppose to tie them with rope this time. They've given me some wire which they say will never break. It seems a terrible thing to have to tie a girl's wrists with wire."
"If that's what they want, do it."
Jill turned back to share an examination of the wire which would bind her. Nothing seemed to matter any more. She hardly glanced at it then turned her back, crossed her wrists and told Colleen to go ahead.
It hurt! But the hurt was no greater than Jill expected. Colleen was cautious as she looped and twisted the metal wire upon tender wrists which must never know freedom again. 'Tell me if I'm hurting you too much, Jill," she said. "I have to do a proper job but there's no use hurting you any more than I have to. This okay?"
It was okay. Jill now knew there was a bond between her and this Irish girl. Nothing seemed to matter anymore and all she wanted was to lay quietly somewhere with her pain and go to sleep. Jill wondered if there had been some connection between Fingal's whipping her bare skin and the ardent clasp of her boy. And would Fingal later take her to his bed? Somehow, strange as it might be, that seemed logical to Jill. A man whips a woman and then beds her.
Jill realized why the wire as she turned around to face Colleen. She could still struggle but if she did so there would be pain and blood. The cord seemed kind by comparison. What did it matter, she never managed to get loose anyway?
Once more Colleen's whisper was urgent. "I have to leave you now because I have to make supper for the boys. They're sending Millie home and have told me I have to show them my whip marks while I do the cooking. It's a saucy lot they are. But I'm thankful they still want me. I couldn't bare it if they sent me home."
Barred windows and bare walls! There was little to give comfort to the naked prisoner left alone. Colleen's breasts against her own had been vastly comforting but now were gone, no doubt to be wasted on the snickering glances of men who probably regarded the poor girl only as a receptacle for sperm. Jill wondered why she, too, had not been raped. Or was this a fate waiting for her beyond the door.
It was natural for her to spend the time by exploring the new strictures upon her wrists. Fingal and his boys would be laughing at her frustration and dismay in finding herself tied by a metal bond. Jill gave up trying. What was the use!
It was Fingal who replaced the noose on Jill's neck and led her to where they would share supper with the boys. Millie was gone but Colleen was once more dressed but flushed by her labors and awareness of whipped skin chaffing against her dress. Colleen had been terribly punished and cruelly shamed but remained a faithful member of The Cause. Fingal fed Jill himself. After the meal she was passed from hand to hand to enable all present to observe at close range the multicolored evidence of punishment. That night she was locked in the ugly bare room, wrists still wired, and with only a blanket tossed in with her. Most certainly it was not one of Miss Jill Prospect's better days.
The Molvane fitted The Cause like a glove. Colleen confided it was only one of many which could be occupied or abandoned on a few minutes notice and the police none the wiser. Fingal and his boys stayed only a couple of days before dispersing on their own affairs, leaving their captive girl in the sole custody of Colleen who's name was Nancy Kelly.
Both girls suspected they were being tested. To leave their female prisoner in Colleen's sole care seemed a large risk. But Jill was well aware of Fingal's cunning. Even if Colleen offered another chance for escape, she would not dare take it. To do so would damn Colleen to a terrible punishment and label her a traitor to The Cause.
Colleen was grateful. Jill resigned herself to more captivity.
Wired wrists robbed Jill of an occupation which previously had given comfort. She dared not struggled against the wire for fear of cutting her skin. But a passive acceptance of her bound wrists would be maddening. Maddeningly but undoubtedly the wisest course. Between compassion for Colleen and the cut of the wire, Jill knew herself more firmly Fingal's prisoner than before.
The captive girl became increasingly aware of Fingal. Whenever he came to the Molvane house, she asked questions he refused to answer. Jill's persistent request for the use of her hands was passed over by a shrug. But there was in Fingal's eye an increasing awareness of Jill Prospect as a woman rather than as a captive girl who must be given no opportunity for escape. Jill wondered why he did not take her to his bed.
On the forth night in their new quarters, Fingal had a message to break the tedious monotony of watching Colleen do all the work while she could do nothing except and chafe her wrists. "Lady Constance will be picking you up tomorrow," he said. "The VIP's have gone about their business so Rintoule's a safe place for the likes of us again. Connie's pleased to get you back again."
"She enjoys torturing me, if that's what you mean."
"Don't be silly. You can't tell me that the little bits of play the two of your get up to isn't a damned sight better sitting here doing nothing." Again Jill was aware of the signal in the outlaw's eyes.
"I envy you, Miss Prospect, and that's a fact," Colleen mourned. "Lady Constance is a real nice lady. If I could go and live in Castle Rintoule with her, I'd be willing to be whipped every day. You'd best be away from Fingal and his boys. I've been wondering how much longer they'll leave you alone."
"She'll keep me chained all the time."
"Well, isn't that better that Fingal's bit of wire? Gee whiz, Miss Prospect, you're a lucky girl!"
It was all in the point of view, and, after all, this was Ireland. Jill twisted restless wrists against loops of wire and wondered why she was not more happy than she was.
Lady Constance Rintoule was her usual sunny self, laughing at the loop of rope around her captive's neck and Fingal's wire wound wrists. "I've brought lovely handcuffs for you, darling," she said cheerfully. "But maybe I should leave you wired the way you are. You're beautifully secured."
"No, oh no! I've been like this for days and days. Please give me back my hands, I promise I'll be a good girl."
There was a sweet innocence about the handcuffs which Lady Constance played with while Colleen used wire cutters on the wire. Before the handcuffs were placed on her, Jill was allowed to message and move her arms around, a pleasure she really enjoyed. But in docile compliance she finally held out her hands.
"Behind your back, remember you're going to be in transit."
Jill did not complain, captivity had come to be her way of life. The only part that varied was how restricted she was. Almost pleasurably she watched one wrist circled by smooth, shinning steel and was then turned about the joining of her hands.
No mention was made of clothes and Jill was tired of asking. Nimbly she took her place on the front seat and watched as Lady Constance, with evident relish, tied the slim, bare ankles. It was a tearful Colleen who leaned through the window to kiss a last goodbye before the Rolls purred its way down the road.
"What are you going to do with me?" Jill's query was blunt.
"What would you like me to do, darling?"
"Give me freedom to go home."
"That's a no-no, don't talk about it."
"Will it really be four months? Four months of being tied and chained seems forever."
"Come on, dear, it's not that bad. And I'll do the cutest things to you. And we'll have lots of time to talk. Tom misses you. He likes talking to you at dinner."
"I was told you paid two million pounds for me?"
"That's right, darling, you really and truly belong to me now. I want you to think of yourself as a beautiful slavegirl."
"But slavery's for life!"
"You'll love every moment. And you mustn't get a swollen head over that two million pounds. It was as much a donation to The Cause as it was the price of a slavegirl. We're going to have so much fun."
The cords were beginning to hurt the slender ankles they confined. But the owner of the ankles had other things to think of. "You talk of buying me the same way you would buy a dress," Jill mused aloud. "But girls aren't bought and sold anymore. I'll admit I'm flattered you want me that badly but there's no title goes along with your gift to Fingal's damn fool cause. You can think of me as a slavegirl if you wish but I'll never be one.' "Don't be tiresome, dear. You're my slavegirl and that the end of it. I'd do something really unkind to you this afternoon, just to get you back in the grove, but there is something else I have to do so I'm going to lock you in the cage like a pretty bird. It will be a lot nicer than sitting in Colleen's kitchen."
The captive girl sighed. Lady Constance was wonderful, a radiance to be adored, but to be her prisoner in Castle Rintoule would be as implacable a bondage as any girl might hope to find. There was now also the factor of a release become more and more indefinite. The handcuffed girl had no doubt whatsoever that her cheerful companion saw the two million pounds as very much the purchase of a girl she could very much play with as a pet.
With feet freed but a guiding hand upon her arm, Jill allowed herself to be led through halls and down stairs. Rintoule was beautiful and she could not avoid a feeling of coming home, a knowledge of being wanted and safe. When they reached the cage, she allowed a wrist to be freed and locked again in front. Wryly, she reflected that things were getting better all the time. And when the cage door clanged shut Jill grasped a pair of bars and looked between them at a freedom she had best forget.
Lady Constance stepped back for effect. "You're simply too beautiful for words," she breathed adoringly. "Those handcuffs on your wrists set off the picture to perfection. One of these days I'll bring a photographer I know to immortalize you on film. Sorry about this, Jill, but I really have to run."
The cage was exactly that. It sat in the center of a larger room, giving every opportunity for the girl locked behind its bars to be viewed from any angle desired. The big room was bright and airy with nothing of the dungeon effect. The naked girl now locked inside made a tour of her circular prison, testing its bars and using her strength upon the door. The effect of that exercise told her only that, once again, there would be no escape for Miss Jill Prospect.
The floor of the cage was carpeted and, in addition, held one of those huge floppy pillows. Jill viewed it with disgust but, since it was better than standing up and feeling foolish, sank into its depths to arrange her nakedness as best she could. If she was left thus alone, the boredom might be even more intense than Colleen's kitchen. Once again she admired the handcuffs upon her wrists, playing with them as might a child. At least they were better than the wire or Fingal's cord.
It was at least an hour before Annabell arrived with a cup of tea. The Irish maid was obviously intrigued. "You look awful pretty in there, Miss Prospect," she said enviously. "If you reach through the bars, you can take the cup."
Rintoule tea was always good and what Jill drank now was a potent Irish brew.
"You've been whipped, haven't you since you were last with us. Was it Fingal made them marks on your skin?" Annabell was bright eyed in curiosity.
"It was a girl named Millie," Jill offered. "She whipped Colleen and I at the same time for what was considered the same crime. It hurt terribly."
Annabell's eyes sparkled with delight. Obviously to be whipped by any member of The Cause was an honor she might not enjoy but would not refuse. She looked behind the bars with increased respect. "This is a really wonderful experience for you, Miss Prospect." Her smile broadened. "How would it be I let you out of the cage and whip your bottom?" She paused shyly. "I'd only use a cane the same as they use in schools. That would be a bit of fun between us girls."
"No thank you, Annabell, I hate being whipped."
"Well, maybe you do, miss, but it's something I've never tried. When Lady Constance whips my bottom, she loves every stroke. I'd like to try it out for myself. Honest, I wouldn't do it very hard."
"Thanks, but I'd rather not."
Annabel! nodded. She accepted the now empty cup and assuring cheerfully, "When I come back I'll be bringing the cane. And I'll let you out of that cage. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I'd like to be getting out of that cage, but I don't want to be whipped. Please, Annabell, don't be unkind. And, anyway, what would Lady Constance say?"
Annabell giggled. "She's already said I can do it, Miss. Just so long as I don't mark you up too bad. Just you hold tight and I'll be right back."
The girl behind the bars held tight. Annabell might be joking but Jill had little hope of this. The naked captive promised the bizarre punishment awaited in wonderment mixed with fear. No matter how it was done to you, the caning of naked skin had to hurt. Jill wondered how much authority Annabell possessed.
The Irish maid arrived with a wicked slenderness of yellow cane tucked beneath her arm. Jill sighed. "Was you ever stripped bare," Annabell asked sincerely, "and caned before you came to Rintoule, miss?"
"Good gracious, no! What you're talking about, Annabell, is uncivilized." Jill gulped as Annabell fingered the cane.
It was girl play, but girl play like no other. Jill watched the unlocking of her cage and eagerly stepped out into a relative freedom. She was still handcuffed.
"I don't have the key to them lovely handcuffs you're wearing," Annabell mourned. "I'd like to tie you up so you won't try to run. But I'm also sure you won't mind bending over and touching your toes. Will you?"
"Of course I'd mind! I don't want to do it."
"Well, I'll just start in caning you where ever I get the chance. There's all sorts of places on a girl that hurt real bad. And while you're moving around I'm bound to get a good cut at some of them. Honest, Miss Prospect, you'd be a lot better off just to touch your toes."
Jill stood there with bound hands and wished she had clothes on. With a sigh she knew that reasoning with this girl would do no good. But before touching her toes she sought delay. "All right, Annabell, but how many cuts do you intend to give me?"
"Six, miss. It's only six. You ought to know that, coming from England like you do. It's only more than six if a girl jiggles around and tries to run away. Would you like to try and run away?"
The final questions was almost hopeful.
"Trying to run away would be silly, you know that." Jill was now reconciled to the Irish maid's intent. 'Tell me when to bend over and I'll do my best."
The fingers positioning her hips were vibrant with love. Jill had no doubt of it. She allowed herself to be pushed this way and that into what Annabell considered the perfect pose. Touching her toes, straightening her knees and bowing down her back, the girl about to receive six strokes held her breath and wished to be elsewhere.
Annabell was playing for keeps. Her first slash across bare skin drew a wail of anguish from the girl who now snapped erect and sought her wound with chained hands. "You're not suppose to do that, Miss Prospect. When you stand up and try to feel your bottom, you have to take the stroke all over again," Annabell informed pleasantly. "I thought you knew that. Only six more and it will be over."
"I can't stand it, you're hitting me too hard."
"Don't be silly, miss, you can. Bend over or I'll make it seven instead of six."
With a sound of bitter frustration the handcuffed wrists reached once more the her toes. Jill's lips were clenched hard.
It was no use. The Irish maid knew only one way to strike, and that was as hard as her young arm could swing the cane. Once more the pain was beyond baring and evoked the same response, to leave the owner of whipped skin staring in mute question at the girl who held the cane.
"It's right sorry I am. Miss Prospect, but that one don't count, either. The way you stand up and try to rub your ass, it simply ain't allowed. Gee whiz, you got yourself a couple of strokes you didn't need. Maybe if I could tie them hands some way... ?' "I'm already handcuffed, you don't need to tie me."
"Well, I gotta keep you from waltzing around, miss. I'll just use this bit of cord... " It was so simple when a girl was helpless to protest. Jill watched as her handcuffs were tied low down to one of the bars of the cage to insure her bending over. "Why can't you tie my hands above my head?' she asked reasonably. "The way I'm fixed now I can still kneel."
"But you're not going to kneel, are you, miss?" Annabell's voice was sly. "You're going to stay nicely bent over and you can struggle all you want. And I'm going to give you them six strokes like I said and you can't do nothin' about it. If you insist on kneeling down, I'll give them to you across your back, and that's a great deal worse. You know that, don't you?"
Jill knew! There was no way she desired Annabell's cane across her shoulders or her back. If a girl absolutely had to be caned, her bottom was undoubtedly the best place. Once more she clenched her teeth.
"Spread your legs, miss, so I can see what's up in them there. You mustn't clench at all, at all."
It was hard to conceal a moan as the bound girl obeyed. Did it hurt more like that? She did not know. All she could think of was Lady Constance and Colleen. When the fresh stroke bit bare skin, she expended its agony by tugging at a rope which yielded nothing. Jill's hips were wiggling and she had exert all her will power to keep her knees straight as desired. Annabell was delighted. "There, see what I mean, Miss Prospect. Now you got one that counts and there's only five more to go. Ain't you glad I tied you?"
Jill stifled everything she wished to say and substituted a meek, "Yes, thank you very much." Then she braced herself for the next one.
After delivering the fifth cut across Jill's defenseless curves, Annabell said, "Ain't it a pity, miss, you got two extra. If it weren't for them I could space the whole thing out nicely across your pretty arse. Them two extra means I gotta overlap. It's a pity, and that's for sure."
"Thank you. Give me the rest, please."
"Oh, I can't hurry it up, miss. You'll notice how I'm giving you a pause between each stroke. That's so you can absorb the pain and be ready and fresh for the next one. That's a trick I learned from Lady Constance, so I did."
It was a demeaning pose. The shamed girl was by no means sure how much of her was showing between her parted legs. She wondered dully if she had to endure a punishment like this every time Lady Constance was called away. For sure Lady Constance was going to get an earful when next they met.
"Ain't no use you telling tales on me," Annabell assured. "Her ladyship calls what I'm doing to you 'proper punishment', she does. She says I can whip your arse. It's a real nice job I got here at Rintoule, it is." Another slash and scold left Jill breathless. "If we gets the time together, miss," Annabell continued, "I won't always be whipping your arse. There's lots of other places I can punish you. And there's all those places out in the park." Annabell sighed happily. "We'll have so much fun."
Everything comes to an end. In the relief of knowing the punishment was finished, and when Annabell untied the rope to permit her prisoner to stand, a couple of tears of relief were shed and brushed away by chained hands.
"There, so I went and made you cry, miss. It's real pretty when a girl cries, so it is. It shows I been doing things right. You will forgive me, won't you?"
Jill had not time to answer before a pair of warm, young arms encircled her neck and she was being wetly and emotionally kissed. When that was completed, a pair of Irish fingertips ran an exploratory test upon ridged flesh to make its owner gasp and wince in fresh pain and apprehension. But Annabell had had her fun and now held wide the cage door, smiling the sweetest smile to invite a naked girl to once more be a bird inside a gilded cage. Jill sniffed but placed herself within the bars. The door clanged shut and it's lock engaged to mark the end of a pleasant afternoon incident in an Irish castle.
Jill had no wish to sit but now found the huge welcome. Waiting until Annabell returns to her duties, Jill cautiously extended her nudity in a curve across the surface, rested her face upon bound hands, and wondered how long the bum would continue.
The wait seemed long, and held no joy. Sometimes the caned girl laboriously stood and walked the pathetic circle of the bars. Jill found herself constantly playing with Lady Constance's lovely handcuffs, fascinated that things of such beauty could impose enslavement. When Lady Constance burst into the room like sunshine after storm, her first words were a demand.
"Jill, turn around and let me see your bottom."
Jill obeyed, she had visions of Annabell being similarly punished. But those visions were cut short by Lady Constance's smile. "How many did she give you?"
"Eight. She started out to give me six but said I earned extra because I couldn't stay bent over. Oh, Constance, it hurt something awful. It's still hurting."
Lady Constance sounded unusually regretful. "I give the silly girl a free hand in these affairs. But I forgot to tell her you were exempt. Oh, darling, I'm so angry with myself."
"You mean Annabell gets off scot free?"
"You'd really like to see her punished, wouldn't you? Well, I really can't do it. Being the lady of this castle has its obligations, and this sort of thing is one of them. If Annabell had done it against my orders. I'd bum her seat something good. Please forgive me."
Constance was easy to forgive. Especially since she now inserted the key and unlocked the door of the cage. "Come alone, Jill, dear, you'll have a nice hot bath before I dress you for dinner. His lordship's been asking about you, so don't do anything to make me jealous." Connie paused grinning. "Oh, by the way, we're going to have a guest. His name's David. You'll like him a lot, all the girls like him. I don't know how he's managed to stay single this long."
The hot, scented water diminished Jill's pain to where it was almost pleasurably bearable. Constance insisted upon soaping and washing the soft round cheek of Jill's bottom herself. Jill didn't say out loud how- much she appreciated the attention.
As the titled fingers worked upon the flesh they owned, the handcuffed girl forgot everything else except those delicious sensations only a girl can know.
'Tom and I want you to be nice to David. He's a dear boy and needs a wife. You'd be crazy not to give him a try."
"Seduce him from inside a cage? I can't seduce anyone."
"Yes, you can, dear. Any girl can. As soon as he proposes to you, I'll set you free. There, isn't that a fine Irish gesture?"
"I think it's crazy." Jill laughed. "But I'm glad you're showing me to him with clothes on. Do I stay handcuffed?"
"Never miss a trick, do you, dear? Of course you'll be handcuffed. That's one way of having the dear boy notice you."
Jill took Lady Constance's cheerfulness and babblings with a grain of salt. Maybe Sir Thomas Rintoule had taken a fancy to her, and maybe this guest at dinner would be charming. But the girl who had to wear handcuffs during that meal saw little in these assurances to change her condition. But at least it would be a lot better than being locked inside her cage. It was with a pleasurable expectancy that Jill allowed herself to be dressed and led down for cocktails.
David Reed was every Lady Constance had said he would be. Masculine charm radiated from him in waves. And when he was introduced he raised and kissed the backs of fettered hands without seeming to notice the shinning bands upon captive wrists. Jill liked him instantly and hoped she wasn't going to be silly.
"Mix David a drink, dear. You know how I wish you to serve it. Annabell will look after Tom and I."
Jill shrugged. Why not! The suave visitor must see her as something less than upper class so one more humiliation would make little difference. Jill mixed the cocktail and knelt before their guest to serve it. She offered the drink in outstretched hands.
"You do that extremely well, Miss Prospect." His voice was soft. "I see Lady Constance has you trained. Isn't she a sweetheart?"
"Don't listen to him, Jill, he's kissed the Blarney Stone. Go mix yourself a drink and come and sit down."
Being handcuffed did not hinder the filling of a glass much. Jill returned to the company only to be struck by a query. Lady Constance had ordered her to sit down, quite probably Sir Thomas Rintoule shared a knowledge of Jill's wounded seat with his wife. But what about David? Had the visitor been made aware that when she sat it would impose considerable pain upon her sore bottom? Forthrightly, the prisoner chose her chair and tried hard not to visible wince when the curves beneath her clothes met their unkind destiny. If David Reed noticed anything untold, he gave no sign.
Jill's role after dinner was simply to listen and observe. She was thankful for the skills previously acquired with knife and fork while handcuffed. To have fumbled and spilt things would have been too shameful to bear. Often she intercepted David's glances at the steel bands upon her wrists. But there was nothing pointed about his regard of her and nothing was said. In the conversation she gathered that David Reed was an educated man who had inherited an estate similar to the Rintoule's except for being a wilderness of neglect. Lady Constance made frequent reference to David's happy go lucky treatment of his possessions. David did not seem to be affected by her comments and, in turn, accused Castle Rintoule of being too ornate and neat.
If David was a member of The Cause, no mention was made of it.
The evening was a delight with Irish wit and costly brandy, dispensed for this occasion by the butler himself. Rintoule's prisoner wished it would go on and on. But when the hour grew late, Lady Constance motioned for the handcuffed girl to follower her from the lounge. In the bedroom, Constance exploded her bomb.
"You like David, don't you? I can tell," Lady Constance said approvingly. "I thought it best to let you know he's staying the night with us." Constance paused as though to debating when to light the fuse. "Darling Tom has given permission for an unusual request David has made." Her voice trailed suggestively into silence. The eyes of Lady Constance sparkled with delight.
"David wants you to sleep with him."
CHAPTER SIX - CAPTIVE TO CAPRICE
Jill groped in bewilderment. Sir Thomas and his lady were the height of respectability. And David Reed had not uttered a wrong word all evening. The captive girl was torn between gratification in a girl who knows herself desired as against the unsought penetration of a girl. Jill fell back on early training for her retort. "I can't. I can't possibly. It's a sort of rape. Oh, Connie, don't make me."
"I've told you I want you to marry David Reed," Connie said. "Are you scared that if he satisfies his lust in you this evening, he'll lose interest? Don't tell me you're all that shy?"
"I don't know what it is. All I know is I can't possibly walk in on David as a gift." Jill was panting. "Just image you shoving me into his bedroom and me announcing I was ready to lay down and spread my legs for his approval. Constance, dear, I simply can't!"
Lady Constance was laughing delightedly over something in which her prisoner could see no trace of humor. "So, all right, darling, you don't want to sleep with David," she said. "So be a good girl and take off your clothes."
To be naked was to be expected. Jill was surprised she had remained clothed this long. Sensing that Constance was withholding some delicious secret, Jill held out her hands to be freed then reduced herself to being totally bare. Automatically she offered her hands to have them once more joined.
It was a shapeless mess of odd things without obvious purpose that Lady Constance produced mischievously.
"No, I can't," said Jill. "What on earth are you going to do to me?"
"First I want you to step into these lovely shinning circles of steel. See how I tug them up higher and higher until they nestle into your thighs close up to your pussy. Then this lovely belt goes around your waist... " Meaning dawned and gave birth to laughter. "It's a chastity belt!" Jill declared. "Constance, you're up to something."
"You can tell David it was the leprechauns that put this on you and locked it." Lady Constance was busy tugging and fitting the thing on. "No one can possibly get it off without the key or tools. Only I have the key. That means that as long I want you'll be chaste. Tell me of David's reaction in the morning."
Holding handcuffed wrists behind her neck, the girl who's sex was being made unapproachable, bend her head to watch what was being done to her most private part. Beneath Connie's busy fingers, the end result was become clearer.
The belt around Jill's middle was tightened click by click. As the chain mail which was apart of it clamped tight to over her sex. Chains passed between her legs and up to the belt in back. "You can easily pee through this part, darling. And where it comes up to join your belt in back, it spreads out to either side. For you convenience." Lady Constance giggled. "Now, I'm going to fasten you u so tight neither you nor David can insert a finger."
Jill stood breathless. She had nothing to say as she stood there with hands behind her neck and the belt was tightened more and more around her narrow waist. The chastity belt tightened all around and pressed very tightly against her vagina. It was not an unpleasant feeling but it would certainly prevent anything at all from enter her. Everything was very tight. But despite that slight discomfort, the girl now protected from piercing by a male realized the total effect was one of lovely symmetry. Jill wiggled her hips and was rewarded by the clutch of metal feeling very good.
"Isn't it simply gorgeous, darling!" Constance, too, was breathless. "It fits you like a glove. Or would you like me to make it tighter still?"
"Gosh, no, it's too tight already! Connie, may I try and walk?"
Both girls laughed at the exaggerated hip motions the chastity belt imposed as the naked girl cautiously stepped back and forth.
"That's enough. Sorry, love, but you'll have to dress again because I want you to get David's full reaction when he strips you or makes you strip naked and discovers his defeat. Frankly, I've no idea whether he'll be amused or angry. Or what he'll do to you. Or make you do for him. This is one of the most delicious situations I've ever contrived."
Once more Jill was thankful for clothes. She might not wear them long but they would fill a gap. And, despite her knowledge of her being a female body being used, she was erotically curious as to David's reactions and temper when he discovered her steel-clad loins.
Outside David's door, she was hurriedly kissed before being thrust inside.
David was half undressed but viewed his visitor with surprise. "I wasn't a bit sure whether they'd go along with it," he confided as thought to an old friend. "This is Irish hospitality at its finest. Aren't angry about it, are you?"
"No, I'm not angry but I don't know how I'm suppose to act when I'm the Irish hospitality offering."
"Don't blame the Irish, luv, it was the North American who were discovered to provide an honored guest with a willing wife or daughter, compliments of the house. Chinese did it, too, I think. I see you're still wearing the handcuffs. Wear them all the time?"
Jill extended her hands. "I wear them far too often and far too long. Please take them off, I expect they've given you the key."
"Oh, sure. I've got the key. They gave it to me along with a wicked wink. Connie's quite a girl, I don't know how Tom keeps pace with her." David used the key and then placed it alone with the handcuffs upon the dresser. "I'm looking forward to seeing you naked," he confessed without embarrassment. "A naked girl is probably the most beautiful thing a man can hope to see. Go ahead, don't keep me waiting."
"Wouldn't you prefer to undress me yourself?"
"Not a bad idea. Stand still. I have done this before, you know."
There were not very many clothes to begin with. It was not long before Jill stood revealed in nothing more than a bar and shinning steel covering in the place of panties. She heard him gasp and then his laughing voice. "I might have known. Was this your idea or Connie's?"
"I can't have ideas. I'm a slave. This one belongs to Lady Constance."
"I suppose it makes you one hundred percent secure?"
"I'm afraid so. Please don't punish me for something I can't help."
David turned her slowly around. "Do you get punished for everything?" he asked seriously. "I can see you've been quite wickedly caned. You'll be marked for a long while to come. I'm certainly not going to mark you any more."
Jill sighed thankfully. There eyes exchanged message while male fingers removed the bra to leave her clad only in handcuffs and chastity belt. His voice was heavy with understanding. "Did you really expect I'd punish you for something you didn't contrive?"
"Well, I can sort of imagine your frustration."
"Hell, it's no big deal, sweetheart. I'm not sort of female companionship. I haven't replaced the handcuffs on your wrists and I don't intend to. Dispose yourself anyway you please and let's talk before we go to sleep."
David Reed gathered Jill gently within his arms and kissed her willing lips with surprising passion until she whispered, "I don't think I can stand any more. This thing locked on my sex works against me every bit as much as it works against you."
It was a nice note on which to go to sleep.
When Jill woke up she found herself nestling against a bare male shoulder with a bare male arm holding her close. Sensing her wakefulness, David said with wry humor, "Was it good for you?" Then he laughed. "But seriously, I won't kiss and touch you now for it's too damned frustration. And I don't want to give Constance the satisfaction of going to breakfast with both of us hot and bothered. She'd detect that instantly. So would Tom. I expect the old devil has been chuckling right alone with her. I suppose you'll have to dress for breakfast if good, old Tom's around."
"It's nice to be dressed sometimes," she replied.
"So she keeps you naked most of the time, does she? I sort of guessed." David chuckled. "I'm afraid I'd do the same. You've got the loveliest body I've ever seen."
It was natural, the girl and the man falling into an easy acceptance of each other and Jill's captivity. It was a long and pleasant time before David said abruptly, "Stand up, sweetheart, I want to have a good look at this thing locked on you. What I ought to do is have one made just like it and lock it on her sometimes. Does it hurt?"
"Not really. It's like tight handcuffs, if you don't struggle, it's okay." Jill stood erect, put her hands behind her neck, and turned slowly for male inspection. She was still curious about the chastity belt herself. And when David had looked his full, she used her hands for her own exploration of the metallic means by which her hips were imprisoned with her sex. "I can't deny it's a work of art," she said ruefully. "Can you see any way of getting it off?"
"Now without the key or expensive tools," David said with disgust.
"But don't you worry, I'll get even with Constance for this. Put your clothes on and let's go down to breakfast."
Jill obeyed but slowly. "I have to feel sorry for girls who wore one of these while their husbands went to the crusades," she said as she bent and twisted. "The damn thing's not all that bad if I move carefully, but I'm very sure I wouldn't want to try and run."
"Okay, luv, if you're ready we'll go on down."
"Shouldn't you handcuff me? No girl is properly dressed at Rintoule unless she's properly handcuffed."
"I suppose you're right. Give me your hands."
The smooth steel was familiar on her wrists. David tightened the metal bands click by click until satisfied Constance would have no cause for complain. On the way downstairs, David said, "I'll be leaving after breakfast. I've things to do. Don't worry, you'll spend another night with me before too long. A night when you're not wearing that thing."
Not a word was said. Throughout breakfast it was as if everything was understood. With Sir Thomas and his lady appreciating the subtly of humor by which their captive had been defamed and their guest enraged. But David showed no rage. He was his usual charming self.
With Lord Rintoule and David Reed gone about their own affairs, Lady Constance took her slavegirl up to the bedroom, stripped her naked, and rolled happily upon the bed in burst after burst of hilarity while the maiden wearing the chastity belt stood in disarray. "Got him hook," she told Jill. "If I had sent you to him with only the handcuffs, he would have screwed you to his heart's content and could have cared less if he ever saw you again. But now he's well and truly in love. I know, I can tell the signs."
The handcuffed girl wanted to say how mean a trick it was to play upon an honored guest and a helpless captive, but the first thing she knew she was rolling upon the bed beside her mistress. The Lady Constance had proved herself a master planner. But even as she laughed, Jill conceded female wisdom. "You really mean it? You think he likes me?"
"Of course he likes you! When you're naked you're really something any man would like. But I think it's more than that."
"Well, okay, if you say so. But how would you like to take this thing off. Haven't I worn it long enough?"
"Well, okay. I would prefer to leave it on but you seem to have behaved yourself, and done and said the right things."
Lady Constance's captive stood in gratitude as one by one the metal strictures fell from her loins to leave vivid marks of their own upon her skin. When the mistress had put the wicked thing away, Miss Jill Prospect hopefully held out her joined hands to ask, in seeming innocence, "These too?"
"Don't be silly, child. You know they don't come off. Without them on your wrists your nakedness would be indecent."
"I wouldn't do anything silly like trying to run away. David took them off when he undressed me last night and didn't put them back on until this morning. He trusted me."
"Of course he trusted you, you little idiot. He knows from past performance that once he gets a girl in bed, she won't be heading for the door." The eyes of Lady Constance sparkled. "Not even if she's wearing a chastity belt. Darling, I'm going to get David Reed respectably married. You'll make him a wonderful wife."
"Connie, I think you're crazy. It will never happen."
"We're going to stop talking about men," Lady Constance said firmly. "You're beautifully naked, dear, but I'm wondering-would you like to wear something? Make a nice change after being around me a while."
"Oh, Constance, would you really let me? I'm so tired of feeling like some domestic animal."
It seemed a small package from which to dress a grown girl. But perhaps it was only one of several. Jill eyed it in pleasurable anticipation.
"It's a basque, darling," Lady Constance explained. "It's gorgeously expensive and beautifully appointed. You're going to love it."
"Appointed? What's that mean?"
"I've had a few little things added to the original. You do know what it is, don't you?"
"It's a sort of corset But you're right, Constance, it's beautiful."
"It will certainly be a lot nicer than nothing."
"Don't get too carried away, my pet. We need to take a little trip down to that trapeze bar in the basement. Come along."
Jill followed, puzzled but well behaved. But faced with the wooden bar with the straps at each end, she couldn't contain the questions, "I don't see why I have to be fastened just to wear a corset. Connie, dear, I think you've got something up your sleeve."
"You're forgetting the way it used to me. Girl's clutched at bedposts while the laces were drawn tight. And there did actually exist what they called a lacing bar very similar to what I'm going to do to you. Don't spoil the fun by playing tricks when I unlock those handcuffs."
Obedience had become Jill's second nature. She knew she could never escape Castle Rintoule so why bother and why earn punishment. She watched her wrists free from steel only to be strapped tight at each end of the bar. It was then raised to a point where she exclaimed, "Oh, please, you'll have my toes off the floor."
"That's right, darling. I need you nicely stretched with your pretty little tummy as nicely taut as it is right now. You look delicious. Good enough to eat."
"I don't feel delicious. My wrists hurt. Please, Connie, there's no need to string me up like this. If you'll let me down, I'll even hang on to the bar and help you... Please?"
"Stop trying to fox me." Lady Constance was busy with adjustments. Leaving her captive standing on her toes, she pridefully displayed the lovely creation of red and black satin and frilly lace. Its fastenings were not of the old, conventional strictures, but were instead of cunningly disguised metal which, once fastened, would be hidden within a fold of scarlet. Even the girl who was to wear it felt excited.
"Silk on smooth, bare skin," Jill gasp with pleasure. And gasped again as the lovely creation molded itself to her contours to cling and possess her nakedness. Lady Constance began the serious business of confining a maiden waist by making the first contacts. The girl with arms held high became increasingly aware that the basque was like no other garment she had ever worn. Both girls were now erotically excited while the captive wondered what would happen next.
"Does it feel good, darling?" The voice of Lady Constance throbbed with a passion all her own.
"It's gorgeous but I'm frightened," Jill confessed.
The unseen fingers continued their task. But now it was not simply the tightening of a single garment but the basque was demonstrating an increasing ability in snuggling in the portion desired in order that no curve or hollow of the flesh to be confined should fail to reach its true potential. Connie's fingers were skilled, her breathing fast.
"I think that's tight enough," Jill ventured.
"Don't be silly, darling, you're looking better every minute."
"I'm not feeling better. Oh, Constance, it's like you're putting me in a vice."
It was an entirely new sensation replacing the vicious cut of cinched rope with a wicked encasement from breasts to hips. Jill's breasts were strained by the posture in which she was held. But as the relentless tightening of the basque continued, they were thrust into a greater prominence in which it seemed they had grown. "It's starting to hurt when I breathe... "
"That's right, dear. Think of yourself as a true Victorian."
Jill's voice was hesitant. "Is this just for fun or am I being punished?" Lady Constance giggled. "Nothing as beautiful as this could possibly be a punishment, darling. Just wait until I get you in front of a mirror. You'll love it."
The tightening process now required Constance to walk slowly around her prisoner to examine the effect achieved much as an artist will measure his model against his brush work. After each survey some portion of Jill's anatomy was adjusted and pulled in more to confirm to what the artist's eye saw. It may have been the stress of standing on her toes but Jill was trembling.
"All I'm going to do when I put your arms down is put you back in handcuffs," Constance explained. "That way you'll be able to spend the day trying to free yourself. That is, if you want to be that silly. Darting, you were beautiful before but this basque has made you erotically desirable beyond man's fondest dreams."
The tractioned girl endured the tightenings which Connie referred to laughingly as "adjustments," until, quite suddenly, the mistress announced her satisfaction with a job well done. "I'm going to let you loose now, dear," she said happily. "But I want you to be careful in what you do to yourself. Take everything gently."
Jill's first reactions was thankfulness to get her heels back on the floor. This was followed by pure shock as her wrists were freed from the bar. Nestling with their frilly lace, her breasts were enormous and apparently resting on to half circles of pain. Jill's freed hands flew to them instantly but nothing they could do achieved anything other than to make things worse. She turned to the smiling eyes of Lady Constance in mute appeal.
"It's not as bad as you think it is, darling." Lady Constance kissed her subject reassuringly. "Just a lot of little needle points against your skin. To make sure you're a good girl."
"But it's awful! Oh, Constance, I can't stand it."
"If you want it to stop, hold your hands back up the way they were. Or clasp your fingers behind your neck, dear. You're wearing an most interesting garment."
It was true. Hands clasp behind her neck gave instant relief. But the relief was short. Lady Constance was holding up the handcuffs. "Your wrists, darling, let me have them."
Jill obeyed but the pain was more than she could bare. She twisted away and stepped back but only to create a second band of fire around her constricted waist. Further motion brought the same agony to play upon her hips. In a swift realization of the purpose of the basque, the hands of Jill flew back behind her neck. Standing stiff and erect all pain vanished to leave Jill tightly corseted and faced with terrible decision.
"Remarkable, isn't it, sweetheart?" Constance might have been speaking of something else. "Give me your hands, I insist on you wearing handcuffs. And they won't stop you clasping your fingers behind your back if that's the way you wish to spend your day." "Oh, Constance... Please!"
"Give me your hands, dear, and stop being shocked. You'll be surprise how quickly you become accustomed to this lovely thing." The needles beneath her breasts came back into play as she brought her arms down. Jill was fascinated to watch her wrists encased in shinning steel which gave Lady Constance so much pleasure. But when her hands were joined they flew back behind her head.
Miss Jill Prospect would never forget being led to the big mirror by the firm fingers of her mistress. But once standing before her reflection, the pure wonder and beauty of Constance's creation drove all else from the captive mind. Jill gasped at her own loveliness and slowly lifted her hands back over her head and suffered the pain of allowing them to fall naturally. Jill simply stood before her own image, unwilling to deny herself the enchantment of what she had become. The basque was beautiful!
"I've things to do, dear, so I'll leave you alone to admire yourself. Do as you like, dear, except run away. I'll probably be in my office." Constance gave a backward glance on her way to the door.
The captive resumed her pose with her arms behind her neck. Cautious to avoid bending, she slowly turned from foot to foot in order to behold the exquisite creation she had become. To properly see herself she was forced to twist and accept the pain that brought. Finally, having seen enough of how beautiful she was, she turned her attentions to release.
It cost the corseted girl an agonizing hour of twists and turns and strivings to realize and accept the fact she was a prisoner to the basque. It held her in an erotic mixture of thrilling loveliness and stern pain. Finally she simply stood defeated with arms held high.
To spend her day in this punishment unearned was something Jill could not conceive. She had best go to Lady Constance and somehow convince her owner that the basque, while beautiful beyond words, was impractical on anyone you did not positively hate. Painfully, Miss Jill Prospect made her way to the office.
Lady Constance was not there but Sir Thomas Rintoule was. In a preoccupied fashion he was looking through files and drawers. He looked up at Jill as if expecting his wife. He stopped what he was going and stared in frank admiration. "My goodness. Miss Prospect, Connie's really fixed you up, hasn't she? I've never seen a more delightful costume."
"Thank you. But could you please get it off. It hurts. It hurts me every time I move."
"I couldn't possibly do that, dear girl. I wouldn't think of infringing upon Connie's work. Please," said ST, "have a little mercy on me."
Jill was putting her heart into her words. "I know this thing is absolutely beautiful and does wonders for a girl. But it's designed to punish. There's all sorts of little needles... "
"Well, I'm sure there are," said his lordship, absently-mindedly. "I expect you'll be looking for my wife. If you find her, tell her I need that Blessington contract. I can't find it anywhere."
"But I don't know where to look for her."
"Neither do I, my dear. Please stop being so excited and sort of calm down." ST eyed her with affection. "I'm sure you can put up with a bit of discomfort until her ladyship decides to take that thing off." He chuckled. "She put it on one of the downstairs maids when she first bought it. Did wonders for the girl. She wore it for several hours, as I recall. And after the initial tears and protests seemed to me to do very well. I thought at the time she was sorry when Constance took it off."
"It couldn't have been this one, this one is torture."
"It seems to me the girl said exactly the same thing." ST smiled. "I suppose it's natural to see it that way before you get used to it. Cheer up, Miss Prospect, you're not going to die!"
ST was a big, loveable hunk of man, far removed from his wife's diversions with female captives. He dismissed his visitor with a lament they could both share. "Fingal's a good fellah, and we help him were we can. It's a loosing battle he's fighting but there's no way to convince the silly idiot. But if he wants you keep out of circulation for three or four months, the very least Connie and I can do for him is make sure you stay our guest that long." Sir Thomas was busily still searching. "If Constance wants to do things to you, I'm not going to interfere." He winked at the lovely girl. "I'm a model husband."
Jill smiled and didn't bother to point out that Lady Constance had now bought her and was probably planning to keep her forever.
Jill's search for Lady Constance was both painful and embarrassing. Since every movement hurt, she had to lift her handcuffed wrists over her head often. And if the servants chose to laugh at her, they could damned will do so. Jill knew herself within the grip of that beautiful basque and would cope as best she could. She was very much aware of a hundred needles waiting to pierce her skin if she were not careful. Blushing but stiffly erect, she continued her search.
The cruelly corseted girl discovered Lady Constance in the rose garden. With her was a visitor. It was Fingal. They both greeted her and obviously knew why she held her hands high. Lady Constance was only amused but Fingal showed concern. He turned to his companion. "Isn't that the corset made for punishment? What's the girl done to deserve it?"
"Fingal's being male for your benefit, darling," Constance told her with a wink. To the man she said, "What are you complaining about, Fingal? Have you ever seen anything more beautiful? If it's a little bit uncomfortable, that just keeps the girl in line."
"Are you in pain," Fingal asked firmly.
"Yes, I'm in pain. It helps to hold my arms up."
"What did you do to get yourself punished?"
"Nothing that I know of. Constance thinks this is fun."
"For goodness sakes! Don't be such a worrier. The girl's in the best of health and nicely controlled." Lady Constance was irritated. "Why can't you be like any other man and simply enjoy those beautiful contours."
"If you're going to have a fight about me, I'll go away," Jill offered helpfully.
"Stay where you are." The male demand was brisk. "Put your hands down. The way you're holding yourself looks obscene."
"It will hurt if I do."
"Do it anyway."
Jill did as she was told. The pain carried no shock. She had the measure of it. But even so she could not control the natural gasp as the needles imposed their points within her breasts. With chained hand held against her middle, she stood rigidly erect in the outrageous punishment the basque imposed.
"You see, Fingal, she loves it."
"Like hell she does. She's scared to move."
"But have you ever seen a girl more perfectly under control?" Constance chided his male concern.
'Take it off."
"Fingal, don't be silly. You want her captive so don't complain of the ways I keep her safe."
"I don't want the poor kid tortured."
"Are you being tortured, Jill?"
"I don't suppose torture is the word for it," Jill admitted unhappily. "May I please go back to the house?"
"Of course you can, darling. I'll deal with Fingal. Run along."
"Stand still." Fingal's command held fierce authority. "Connie, take it off. I'm telling you to take it off."
Surprisingly Lady Constance produced the key and said, with undiminished good humor, "Come here, darling, this idiot's working himself into a dither. He's probably fallen in love with you. But don't you dare marry him, he'd make a rotten husband."
Thankfully the captive took the couple of steps to turn her back for Connie's attention. Fingal looked on with a dole expression. One by one the strictures were loosened. Jill could feel only a great deal of gratitude. Without Fingal's powerful presence she would have spent the day with the needles driving deeper and deeper into her skin. With the basque removed, she would stand before him naked but she did not care. Fingal had seen her naked often enough. But as the key made its final turn, Miss Jill Prospect knew herself blushing.
"Damn it, Constance! Look at the marks that thing's made on her."
Lady Constance frowned. "It wasn't nearly this bad when I tried it out on Annabell," she said defensively.
"You didn't have it on Annabell half as tight. Damn it, I'm ashamed of you."
"Okay, so I'm a bitch." Her fingertips were tracing the lines of tiny wounds the needles had left beneath Jill's breasts and middle. "Look, darling, run up and soak yourself in a nice hot tub. In half an hour you won't even know it happened." She turned to Fingal and sniffed, "I hope you're satisfied."
"It's me who will be giving her a bath," Fingal announced as he grasped Jill's arm. "Come along, girl, there's things I need to say while I'm washing you down. And Constance is busy with her roses."
The message was clear, both girls accepted it. Jill was led back to the house in anticipation. It was wonderful to be free of the basque and doubly so to be forcefully held and led by this strong man. She was conscious of nothing beyond the grip upon her arms.
Except for those moments when binding her, Fingal had never previously been this intimate with her. Without the faintest hesitation he soaped her nakedness and then raised it to stand still while he soaped it vigorous to wash away the tiny specks of blood. Comically, he insisted on the handcuffs behind her neck pose to give him full scope in this endeavor. Fingal was no longer the rebel but now just a man to her. And he was very aware of her as a girl. Jill could sense that.
Satisfied with his soaping, he laid her back down within the warm and scented suds and sat himself comfortably to talk.
'Tell me your feeling towards Constance."
"I expect it's silly but I've become fond of her. She's mean to me sometimes but the rest of the time she affectionate. She's a good companion." Jill held up handcuffed wrists. "I don't count these in the evaluation. They're a lot better than your rope."
"If I leave you here, she'll continue to do what she calls playing with you."
"Is there an alternative?"
"Not a convenient one. Or anything half as comfortable as Rintoule." After a second he added, "You were very beautiful in that bit of lace and satin she had you locked in."
"Don't you like me without it?"
"You're the stuff dreams are made of. Of course I like you." His tone became earnest. "Look, there's a trip to American I have to make. It would fill up a bit of your time."
It was too sudden for her, and she said the first thing that came to mind. "You can't take me across the Atlantic, not while I'm handcuffed."
He laughed at her innocence. "What good would it do to have you handcuffed when you could howl your head off to the flight crew. Or the police at the airport."
The girl in the soothing heat sensed a deeper purpose than was yet revealed. Feeling she had nothing to loose, she said, "I suppose you realize the first thing I would do is run away home. Unless you keep me bound or chained I don't see how such an idea is practical... Not for you."
"Are you fond of Colleen?" Fingal asked casually.
"Of course I am, she's sweet."
"Supposing you knew she would be flogged every time you were a naughty girl?"
"You wouldn't do such a thing!"
"Yes, I would, sweetheart. I've already talked to Colleen about it. And for the good of The Cause she's given me and the boys carte blanche to do with her as we please." Fingal laughed. "She's fond of you, too, and doesn't believe you'd do anything to get her hurt. It's a neat arrangement to keep you in line."
"Bizarre and impossible."
"It's entirely practical. Think about it."
"But suppose I don't want to go to America?"
"Then you'll stay as you are. I have to keep you at Rintoule for quite a while anyway."
"I thought I was bought by Lady Constance? Doesn't she own me?"
"Well, yes and no. It's not as simple as that."
Jill waited but no more explanation was forthcoming. She would simply have to accept that Fingal still, for whatever reason, controlled her life to a great extent.
Jill sighed. She found herself faced with days stretching into months or more of the kind of treatment she had faced this morning, or with a trip to America with this ruggedly handsome man. Knowing she would do nothing to hurt Colleen, Jill knew she would behave if she were to take the trip. The Cause had been clever, their hold on Colleen would hold Jill more surely that chain.
"Suppose I went with you to the USA, would I be free?" she asked doubtfully. "I really don't see how you would give me total freedom." She paused. "Would you?"
"You'd have freedom to go and come with me or with anyone I trusted. If I have to leave you alone, I'll put a rope or chain on you as needs be. You're only human, sweetheart, and I'll not tax you beyond your ability."
Surprisingly Fingal took her in his arms to kiss her gently and hold her very tight before suddenly relinquishing her warmth. He turned away and left the room. Jill was as bewildered as she had ever been.
Jill discovered Lady Constance in her office. Her greeting was typical, "Aren't men ridiculous, darling? I'm sort of fond of Fingal but he's the worst of the lot. The silly idiot is no kidding himself he's in love with you. He won't do anything about it, of course, he's too deeply wedded to The Cause. But he'll give you a few hearth throbs. And himself an erection." She snorted disgustedly. "I'm really mad at him about the basque. It wasn't killing you the way he seems to think. I'm a damned good mind to put it back on and see if I can't get it a notch tighter. Would you like that?"
"You know I wouldn't."
"I have to do something with you, darling, I don't want you to get bored. I have a meeting I have to go to this afternoon. I'll give you a choice, wear the basque again or get yourself fastened to a tree outside."
"Am I permitted to decline both?"
Constance sighed. "Look, dear, I have to keep you safe. I can put you in a cage or load you with chains so you can only clank around the castle. The cage is the easiest for me, I just pop you inside and lock the door. But it's a lovely day and I'm sure you'd enjoy being in the sunlight... With just a mild restraint."
It was a fine day to make the heart sing, despite the weight of heavy chain draped around her shoulders which she must carry to where ever they were going. She was entering the feeling with Lady Constance. It was a fine day and anything was better than the basque. She refused to dwell on whatever it was she would have to endure for the afternoon. "Constance, this chain is shockingly heavy," she said. "It would hold a couple of horses. You don't need anything so heavy."
"Yes, I do, dear. That chain is more for me than for you. It looks good. I don't want you in silly little links I can hardly see."
Lady Constance knew her trees and had chosen well. It was a pleasant spot, surrounded by bushes and shrubs. The sunlight filtered through the leaves to make patches on the ground. The mistress of Rintoule went directly to the tree, looped one end of the chain around it and padlocked it. The other end of the weight of metal held a shackle which she proceeded to lock upon Jill's ankle. The band of metal was heavy and solid and told the captive girl she was there to stay. "Walk around to the limit of your tether, darling, I want to see the effect," Lady Constance insisted. "I want to watch you trying to get yourself free. "
"That's silly, I know I can't."
"Try anyway, dear, and get that pout off your puss or I'll put your hands behind your back."
The prisoner shrugged and did as she was told, followed around by the metallic clink of chain links. When her ankle was snubbed short, at which point, she tried to take another step, straining so that her shackled foot was well behind her. She looked over her shoulder at Lady Constance. After a while she went back to the tree, leaned against it and surveyed the woman who had chained her.
"I feel a fool," she admitted. "I always feel a fool after you've fixed me. Are you really going to leave me here?"
The tree was a friend as well as an enemy. By virtue of the chain it held Jill in a relentless restraint, but, on the other hand, when Lady Constance had left her alone, she made several sorties to test her tether before returning to the massive trunk to lean once more against its solid strength. All she could see was the green of shrubbery, brown and grey of tree trunks, and the blue of a lovely Irish sky. Jill could not restrain a silent chuckle at the fidelity by which her helpless nudity created the perfect picture of a damsel in distress.
CHAPTER SEVEN - SOLD
The bark was harsh on bare skin so Jill disposed her nakedness on a patch of grass where the sun was warm. Resting thus, her mind fluttered back and forth but the events of captivity were too recent and too wrought to make good food for thought. She was soon asking herself why she could not be reconciled to Fingal's sentence of four months. At least she thought that was the figure he was still quoting. And, anyway, some of that time had already passed. She was willing to believe that at the end of that time she would be freed to return home. Over and over she told herself that was the way it would be. On that thought she fell asleep.
Jill must have slept soundly for when she awoke she had an awareness that something was wrong. The man was standing a few paces distance to survey her in frank disbelief at what his eyes beheld. He was middle aged, florid, heavily tweedy. Even the floppy hat was tweed. Beneath one bent arm he carried a double barreled shot gun. He vented shock, "Well, I'll be damned!"
Jill sat up in alarm. Linked hands strove to cover bare breasts until she let them fall to shield a more private place. She said the first thing that came to mind. "Please pay no attention to me. Leave me alone. I'd be grateful if you would go away."
"Would you now!" He spoke with buff hardiness. "You're a sight for sore eyes, and that's the truth, miss." Then he suggested, "Can I offer you this jacket I'm wearing?"
"No. Really. It's kind of you but all I want is to be left alone. Please don't stare as though I'm something out of a legend."
"But that's exactly what you are, miss." It was an educated voice, colored by the country brogue. "Is that chain on your ankle real?" He paused, flustered. "I mean, are you really chained to that tree?"
"Yes, I am. Were you thinking of getting me loose?"
"Well, have you free in no time." Male bombast was thankful for something positive to do. The gun was laid carefully upon the ground while it's owner took the chain and heaved mightily without result. Gruntingly disgustedly, he then examined the metal shackle on a maiden ankle. But here too he was defeated. "Damn the thing," he said. "What we need is tools."
"You mean you really will try and get me free?" Hope was vibrant in her voice.
"Don't see why not," her visitor said gruffly. "But," he added, "I don't see where this in any of my business, and I'm a trespasser on Rintoule property. Do they know about you?"
"They fastened me like this." Jill could almost see his face change. He retrieved the shotgun before delivering his verdict. "In that case, dear, I'd better not interfere. Lord and Lady Rintoule are the Law hereabouts. If they've fixed you the way you are, there's a good reason for it. And I'll no be sticking my nose where it don't belong."
They stared at each other until Jill explored another hope. "If I give you an address, would you write then a letter and tell them where I am? I'd be tremendously grateful."
"Ha! I expect you would, miss. But, as I said. I'm leaving this little lot alone."
Jill wondered whether if she should stand up, knowing full well that such an action would show the man a great deal more of her nudity. Instead, she gathered raised knees within the clasp of joined hands and said, evenly, "What you're really saying is you refuse to help me. Please think again."
"I've nothing to think about, miss. I've told you the way it is. My name's Col. Riley. I'd be glad if you wouldn't mention seeing me. Technically, I'm poaching."
"Couldn't you shoot that padlock on the tree with your gun?"
"I'm loaded with number six shot, miss. Wouldn't even make a dent." Once more they stared until Jill exclaimed harshly, "Well, if you're not going to help me, you might as well go and shoot your rabbits or whatever you're looking for. I don't enjoy a man seeing me like this."
"I was thinking of asking you to stand up, miss. Old buffers like me don't see a girl like you around these parts." He laughed. "My wife's a bit long in the tooth, same as me, and it's a real bit of luck, so it is, to have a pretty filly like you... Would you mind?"
"I don't wish to be ogled. Please go away."
"I can cut a switch from a bush and persuade you, miss. It means a lot to me, so it does."
Disgusted, Jill got to her feet. There was no use suffering pain as well as indignity. If this middle aged man wanted to see her total nakedness, she supposed it would be little different from any of the other men who have had a good look at it in the passed few days. She clasp her handcuffed hands behind her head and turned slowly around to reveal every contour she possessed. "There, you've had a good look. Will you leave me alone and go away?"
"That's a lot to be asking, miss. You're a lot to be looking at, miss. I'm thinking of taking this little friendship of ours a step further."
"Don't bother. I know I can't get away but I'U fight you tooth and nail. I would have thought if you'd been an officer, you'd be a gentleman."
"No man's a gentleman when he's looking at what you're showing me, miss. Loveliest thing I've ever seen."
"Thank you. May I sit down?"
"I suppose," said the colonel. "Probably couldn't rape you if I tried."
Jill resumed the hugging of her knees, thankful for the colonel's awareness of his age. Her visitor made a few more wistful comments before disgustedly turning to walk back the way he came. The chained girl heaved a sigh of relief but when she sought it, sleep became illusive. She sighed and told herself at least this was better than the cage.
Sir Thomas Rintoule's notions of propriety insured Jill would dress for dinner, and sometimes, when his lordship was present at breakfast. Brief thought this wearing of clothes might be, it kept her in touch with reality. And she adored the unlocking of the handcuffs from her wrists. Lady Constance dismissed his lordship's insistence as nothing more than nuisance.
"I'm going to give you a choice, Jill, dear. I can lock you in the cage for the day, or you can take a chance on a quaint little notion I've been wanting to try?" The voice of authority was loaded with mischief.
"Thanks. I'll take the chance. If you kept me in that damned cage enough, I'll go crazy."
At first glance it appeared a shapeless structure of probably expensive planks. Jill gazed upon it with distrust. "Oh, Connie, what on earth is it?"
"First you sit on the bench, dear, and then I raised this nice heavy plank and you spread your feet out wide and put your ankles into those neat little half circles waiting just for them. Get with it, don't be scared." Always she must obey. Miss Jill Prospect had given up thoughts of fighting her way to freedom or arguing her way out of any wish her ladyship might have. With a curiosity difficult to conceal, she went through the desired motions to watch her companion lower the plank to encase on her slender, captive ankles in costly oak. Jill's legs now disappeared at the ankles where they were gripped tightly and snuggly. Jill was now confronted at close range by a similar structure at the level of her shoulders. When Lady Constance raised the upper plank invitingly, she knew what to do.
"Isn't that sweet," her ladyship enthused. "You can't move much, can you, dear?"
"Hardly at all. Oh, Constance, must you do these things to me?"
"Of course I must. Or would you prefer to go back to the cage? See how generous I am? I'm giving you an opportunity."
It was too early for a judgement. Jill found herself comfortable enough with outstretched legs and outstretched arms. The boredom of the cage prompted her decision. "I'll stay where I am. But do you have to stretch me so wide down below? I'm wide open. I'd hate to have visitors."
"I don't suppose you'll have any," Constance retorted. She chuckled. "If you do, you can cross your legs. By the way, you forgot to say thank you when I unlocked your handcuffs."
"Well, I didn't gain anything. With my hands this way, I think I'm worse off."
"Don't complain. You look charming. I expect you'll get used to it and stop pouting after a while. I'm sorry I've got things to do but I'll drop in and say hello as often as I can. I'll remind Annabell to drop in and bring you a glass of water from time to time. And I'd suppose you won't really object to her having a look at what you've got. What's more. I'll warn her to behave."
The sunlight always seemed less when Constance went away. Robbed of the vivid presence, it was not long before Jill was wondering if she should have chosen the cage. The twin stocks in which she was securely locked seemed deceptively innocent. But after they had held her for ten or fifteen minutes, their captor was not so sure. Jill soon realized this was punishment by immobility. She hoped Lady Constance knew what she was doing. After an hour of sitting with legs obscenely wide apart and arms held motionless by captive wrists, Jill Prospect wished she were in the cage.
Unexpectedly it was not the snugly held wrists or ankle which were the focal point of distress. Instead it was that portion of her nakedness on which the girl sat. Jill soon found it impossible to give easement to her cheeks. She could neither shift them from side to side, nor lift them off the hard wood. Her backside slowly became numb and finally became an aching pain. No matter how Miss Jill Prospect sought for motion, she found herself securely foxed.
Annabell came at noon and by that time Jill's bottom was sufficiently distressed to make her plead. She drank the water held to her lips gratefully but listened only to words of doom.
"Ain't nothing I can do for you, miss," Annabell said with genuine regret. "I ain't got no key and I wouldn't use it if I had. It's hard on your ass, isn't it? I sat there myself once."
"Can't you get me loose for ten minutes so I can get the circulation back?"
"Like I told you, miss, there ain't no way." Annabell brightened and giggled. "Ain't you luck, though, your ass ain't been caned before she set you down. That's something to be grateful for."
"I can't stand it, Annabell. I know I shouldn't cry but my bottom hurts so much. How long did she make you sit in this horrible thing?"
"Only two or three hours, miss, so I'd know what it was like. But don't you worry, miss, it ain't gonna do you no harm, and it ain't gonna kill you. Her ladyship could have made it a lot worse."
"I don't see how."
"Well, for one thing, she could have put a sheet of sandpaper for you to sit on. That's really bad. Or she could have put a couple of those horrible clips on your tits or down below-ain't no way gonna get them off."
After Annabell had gone the tears came, a flood of desolation Jill could not stop. When they subsided she allowed her head to droop down upon bare arm. She was in that dejected condition when Sir Thomas Rintoule opened the door and seemed to fill the chamber with good will. She surveyed the girl in the pillories without surprise. His greeting was simple, "Connie do this to you?"
"Yes."
"It beats me the things that girl thinks up. I lost trace of the girls she's amused herself with. Had to put my foot down, of course, when it came to mealtimes or she would have had them sitting at the table stark naked." He snorted. "Have to draw the line somewhere."
"Could you please set me free?"
"You mean you're hurting, you're not comfortable?"
"It's killing me, it's not bearable."
"Does it really hurt that bad?" Sir Thomas sounded doubtful.
"I can't tell you how awful it is." The captive girl put her heart into her plea. "Every hour makes it hurt more. And the terrible thing about it is I can't move, I simply can't move."
Sir Thomas seemed embarrassed. Jill wondered why he had come. Surely he was not the type to gloat over a naked girl in pain. His next words were as much a shock as if he had promised to have her whipped. "Well, if that's the case, Miss Prospect, let's see if I can get you out of there. I've got the keys somewhere if I can find them."
He fumbled absent-minded. It was a breathless time for the girl who could not move. The key was small and his fingers large. He grunted but finally lifted the upper plank to enable the prisoner to withdraw her hands. They were stiff and hurt some. The process was repeated with her feet. Soon a huge Irish hand held her erect and steadied her lest she fall.
"How long you been in that thing?" he inquired.
"Ever since early morning. It seems a lift time."
The nobleman was evidently thinking deeply. "I'm going to have to speak to Connie about her fun and games," he confided. "The dear girl ought to try them out on herself before inflicting them on anyone else. I can easily turn the key and come back in an hour to see how she likes it."
"I'm sure Constance didn't realize how horrible this thing is." Jill was rubbing her bottom. "I'm terribly grateful to you, Sir Thomas. Do you want to put me in the cage until your wife comes home... Or maybe one of the cells?"
"Eh? Good gracious no! What would I do that for?" Sir Thomas seemed surprised. "Look, girl. I'm going to set you free completely. Go to Connie's wardrobe and help yourself. There is a little car in the garage and I'll give you some money. If you drive to the airport at Cork, you can catch the transport plane that accommodates the car and be safe in England by nightfall. How's that?"
It was too much, too soon. Jill found her cheek nestling against his lordship's Bond Street jacket, while her free arms groped for his shoulders. She was weeping in a storm of relief which the nobleman sought to cope with by gently patting her back and then her punished bottom.
He told her with a tone of amusement, "There's no need for Fingal to keep you here for four months, or even four days. The police know the names of everybody you could reveal, there's nothing you could tell them they don't already know. That poor young man is chasing rainbows. And he'll get himself killed for it. You mark my words."
It had all the urgency of a dream, the naked girl dressed in Connie's clothes and no longer naked. The handcuffs she had worn so long remained unseen and without mention. She could have wept again when taken to the little car. When the benevolent nobleman pressed upon her one of the bags women loved and a bundle of bank notes far beyond her need, she said thank you so many times she was fearful of becoming a bore.
Jill trod upon the accelerator hard.
Everything was unreal. Conscious and the memory of her mistress brought only guilt to the fleeing girl. Constance was real while flight and escape was a betrayal. But the little car sped onward until the need for gas drove it into a service station. While its fuel was being replenished, the potently familiar voice exclaimed, "Well, if it isn't Miss Prospect! Who would have expected you?"
It was David Reed.
Jill laughed joyously, as thought the appearance of this man had put the seal of approval on her escape. While feeling his magic, she told the story of events.
'Tell you what, sweetheart," David said without emotion. "There's a good little restaurant nearby. What say we go and have dinner?"
"But I have to catch a plane."
"By the time we finish talking, you may not wish to catch that plane." The suggestion clutched the girl with a potent hand. Jill followed where she was led and was soon sitting across from fine Irish linen and listening to a proposition she felt certain no other girl had ever received. The magic of David Reed enveloped her now as it had done on that first time. While he spoke of the incredible, it seemed incredible no more.
"You're going back to England, I take it?" he asked conversationally. "Yes. I'm scared to death of Ireland. I want to go home."
David nodded understanding. "Of course, why not? What are you going to do when you get there?"
Jill sensed a hidden depth to his questions but had her answer easy. "I'll go back to my apartment and I'll go back to my job. I'll lead a sane and sensible life. I'll wear clothes and I'll never be handcuffed again."
David nodded. He was seeing the picture. But his next picture made the fleeing girl think hard. "So you go back to square one. And then you discover a guy who's been kicking around all the time and you'll see in him virtues you hadn't previously noticed. You'll marry him and on the wedding night he'll get you pregnant. This guy will never make a lot of money but he'll get you some kind of home on a thirty year mortgage, and you'll be so damned busy with his babies you won't have time to wonder if you've made a good deal." David's eyes sought hers. "Is that what you want?"
"Isn't it the normal?"
"The normal was way back when the man went over the hill and snatched a female from another tribe. He dragged her home by the head to keep his cave clean and become a reproductive orgasm in which he planted his seed every night." He chuckled. "Really not all that different to the little villa on Laburmum Grove. Am I right?"
"I don't now. I'm all confused. If I could only get home and think about it. If I could talk to my parents. I'd know the answer. Right now I don't." Jill looked at David imploringly. "Please don't mess you up."
"I'll mess you up for sure. I like you. I'll plant my seed in you when the time comes." He chuckled boyishly. "Can't very well do it in a restaurant. Why don't you come home with me?"
"I'm going home to England."
"You said that before." David's magic voice became even more potent. "How would you like to be my prisoner instead of Connie's?"
"I'm not going to be anyone's prisoner. I'm free and I intend to stay free. Please, David, don't be silly."
"I've got handcuffs. Expensive ones like those Lady Constance put on you. They'll hold you just the same, handcuffs are marvelous to stop a girl from changing her mind. Don't you agree?"
"Oh, David, don't be silly. And this is the first I've heard of you having inclinations to keep a girl tied up or chained or locked up in a dungeon." Jill sniffed disdainfully. "Does that stuff really turn you on?"
"It is the very stuff of life, sweetheart."
"It's a deviation, and you know it is." Jill was shockingly pointed. "Why on earth would you want to keep me prisoner the why Constance did?"
David Reed's voice was charming as ever as he explained, "In the beginning, sweetheart, men possessed the female by brute force. If he was a good hunter, she came to appreciate him. After that ear, men owned the females as slave. And, with the growth of civilization, there was slave markets in which the girls could be bought and sold, and no one saw anything wrong with that. Regrettable at the end of the era chivalry had raised its ridiculous head and the girls began to catch a glimpse of the possibilities of twisting men around their little fingers to gain their desires."
"I suppose so. But, really, David, I'm in a hurry.' "It hasn't changed much in a thousand years," the rich male voice continued as though Jill had not spoken. "The slave markets were gone but men paid in other ways and the girls twisted them to make that payment doubly expensive. About a century ago it was made illegal to beat your wife." David sighed. "Mankind had gone back a thousand years."
'David, I simply have to go. Thank you for the drink, and, if you try and stop me, I'll call the police."
"I was thinking in terms of taking off those clothes you wear and tying your hands behind your back with a simple piece of cords," David continued dreamily as though beholding visions. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"No, I wouldn't."
"You think you have to say that so I won't hold it against you. Perhaps as the first step in making you realize I'm your master, I should whip your bottom. Using either a cane or whip, which ever you prefer. It cements the relationship and puts you in a receptive frame of mind. Still with me?"
"I haven't been with you from the start. I hope you joking but I'm afraid you're not. Really, David, I wouldn't have thought this of you."
"The girl in the jungle who got dragged off to her captor's cave by her hair hadn't thought it, either. The whole history of womanhood is one long protest against the inevitable. Nature constructed her to obey the male. See what I mean?"
"I see the trap you're trying to lead me into. Thank you, David, but no." Jill gazed across the small table at the intent male features which seemed to possess everything a woman sought. In the eyes was both love and understanding. The lines and wrinkles were too few yet to betoken age, they simply added character to a face already richly endowed. The lips were full and of a humor to make a woman laugh or make her wiggled in the ecstasy of giving. Jill listened absently as David's voice rolled on, while she ate the food without tasting any of it. Forty minutes later she walked with him to his car.
"I'll send a man to pick yours up," he said with comforting authority. "You will ride home with me. Don't you think this is the time to tie your hands?"
"No, thank you. I never want to be tied again."
It seemed so natural to turn and yield her arms and feel male fingers across her wrists and then the bite of cord. Jill Prospect knew herself held within a trance, knew without anger that David Reed's charm and purpose had lured her into a second captivity which might be worse than the first. Fingal and Lady Constance receded into limbo as possessive male fingers positioned her in the front seat before looping her ankles with cord, twisted tight to tell this girl she had lost her liberty, a liberty she might never know again.
Nothing was loose. The girl corded into helplessness was carried downstairs by the victorious male who held her in a thralldom which made the cords a needless precaution. The servants passed upon the way must have played this scenario before for they said nothing. The flight of stairs which took the captive girl from reality down into fantasy revealed a scene familiar enough to cause her to exclaim, "You copied everything Lady Constance has! The cells, the punishment room, the cage! Oh, David, please don't lock me up and leave me alone. Please don't do that, I couldn't bear it."
"That's happened to you before, eh?"
'Too many times. David, it's terrible to be left alone."
David walked the passage, his precious burden beholding everything she did not wish to see. But at the end of the journey, which was no more than a threat, the freshly capture girl was carried back upstairs to the bedroom she knew was his. Completely helpless, she was tossed upon the bed.
It followed an expected pattern. With David standing above her, holding shears, his new captive said, "You don't need those. If you'll just untie me, I'll undress myself. I'll do a strip tease for you if that's what you want. But please don't cut up Lady Constance's clothes."
The shears heard not a single word. They were sharp and filled with purpose. In a couple of minutes Miss Jill Prospect lay stark naked, bound and cruelly available upon the bed. The clothes of her former mistress were a ruined pile of material which David tossed into the waste basket. He asked, "Feel pleasantly submissive, sweetheart?"
"How else can I feel the way you've got me fixed? Oh, David, you don't need to do this. You can have me without all this silly business of bits of rope. It must be the climate here, everyone's crazy!"
"Forgive me, beloved girl, I'm working out a fantasy. You're very much a part of it. I'll free your feet, the rest will be easy."
Jill took small comfort from the cutting of the cords about her feet. If a girl is to be raped or to enjoy the simple act of love, she must most certainly be able to spread her legs. It should have ended there but did not.
"I'm going to undress," David told her as though speaking of the most mundane. "While I'm doing it, I want you to kneel. And when I present you with the weapon of your impalement, I will expect you to know what to do with it."
With male garments flying in swift discard, the girl who's hands were still tied tight behind her back, but who's ankles now held only the scarlet brand of cord, knelt as directed. Her mind was bewildered and distraught by the swiftness of events and the knowledge she must now do something she had never done before. When the male phallus was thrust hard against her lips, she took it within her mouth in a preknowledge of female destiny.
It was less than a minute before David's voice was abrupt in command, "That's enough. I simply want you to sample it and understand its mastery. Lay on the bed and spread your legs."
Instantly obeying, Jill rested her back on bound wrists and spread wide her legs. Quickly he was on top of her and inside her, pumping away in an age old pattern. Jill, for her part, matched his thrusts with thrusts of her hips and little cries of ecstasy. Perhaps it was better with wrists crossed and tied behind her back. Jill did not know. But at the end of it, Jill knew only that she wanted it done to her again, and yet again.
After a while the male voice penetrated the mists of lust. "You're good, sweetheart, better than I thought. I've decided to keep you."
"Then tie my feet so I can't get away." She matched her mood to his, and lay still happily as cords once more bit her ankles and was knotted tight. Mockingly she accused, "You're not going to trust me, are you, David?"
"Sure I trust you, sweetheart. It's just that I'm a real son of a bitch who loves to see a girl tied tight. Don't ask me why men adore to see a girl thus bound. But it's like your nakedness. We want to see that, too. It's all part of a picture I can't explain. But I don't have to explain. I've got you and you can't get away... You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, I know. I can't understand any of it, but with you I don't care. With you it's a lot better than with Lady Constance. Explain that!"
"That one's simply," David laughed. "Girls don't want other girls unless they're queer. They want The Male. My role is to keep you happy in your bondage... " It was delicious and wonderful and impossible. Knowing she did it only to please the man who watched, she fought her bonds as if frantic to be free. Then she subsided into her passive nudity to point out, with most logical reason, "You'll have to untie my ankles again, David. I can see you're ready and I'm just a girl who is always suppose to be ready. Isn't that the way of it?"
The second time was better than the first.
They were on their last cup of coffee at breakfast before Jill made a shattering discovery and exclaimed, almost in alarm, "David, I've only just noticed, but don't you realize I'm not tied or handcuffed or anything. You didn't forget, did you?"
"I cut the cord while you were asleep, love. I've been wondering how long it would take you to notice." David's Irish eyes were alive."
Jill sensed a mystery. In disbelief she raised her hands to examine the red marks circling her wrists from bondage past. But there was no bondage now and her heart raced with hope.
"Feel like there's something wrong, sweetheart? Those hands of yours have been tied a long time."
"Yes, that's just how I feel. David, there isn't something wrong, is there?"
"Just Irish whimsy. I can understand why you don't feel right about it." David was amused by the strange look on her face. "You'll find cord in the bedroom. Go and get it. I'll tie your hands again and then you'll feel better." His eyes became more serious. "That is what you want, isn't it?"
It was what Jill wanted. Refusing to think or try to make sense of anything, she ran her errand and handed her master his length of cord. Demurely she turned and crossed her wrists for the familiar bite and relentless stricture. When it came she gasped in a strange mixture of emotions. But suddenly David unloosed what he had done and turned his naked prize around. He took first one hand and then the other to brush them gently with his lips. He threw the unwanted cord upon the breakfast table where it coiled like snake awaiting a chance to strike.
"It's not good," he said disgustedly. "I can't play Connie's game with you. I thought I could but it just isn't right. I won't make you a prisoner. You're absolutely free."
Jill was stricken. "Are you telling me to go away and not even be your guest?"
"That's about the size of it, love."
"You don't like me... ? I don't perform the way you expect? David, you're not sending me home in disgrace, are you?"
"You're the loveliest girl I've ever had. I'm too fond of you to do any of the things I planned."
"But those cells and the cage downstairs? I thought they were for girls like me."
"They're for girls, alright, but not for girls like you." He gasped her bare shoulders and drew her close. His kiss was as gentle as his voice. "Let's sit down again and have an extra cup. I'm probably finding this more difficult than you."
Jill obeyed. "There's something wrong," she said, "there has to be something wrong. You can't sent me back to Lady Constance because it was her husband who set me free in the first place. Damn it, David, the only place I've got to go is home."
"That's right and that's where you're going, sweetheart. As far as the cells and the cage goes, that's quite simple. Whenever I felt in the mood to have an occupant downstairs, I brought her in and paid for the service. I'd hire her for a day or a week. I never did go beyond a month. If you give those girls enough money, they'll do anything. Mostly they gave me a pretty good performance.' "You mean ladies of the night?"
"You can call most of them that. But I ran into the odd female who was simply curious or enjoyed captivity. You'd be surprised how many of those there are. Trouble is they always expect you to marry them on the last day."
"You said you got girls from Rintoule?"
"That's right but it didn't happen often." David grinned in apology. "I always felt a bastard with those girls. I couldn't let them escape so they all thought they were having a bad time." He paused. "See, what I mean, Jill? You don't belong in either group. And because I felt a fondness for you from the first moment we met, I just couldn't cane your bottom. Connie hoped you'd marry me."
"I knew that from the start."
"Connie's a sweetheart but she's a bit of nuisance the way she thrusts tied up maidens into my arms. You weren't the first, there's been others."
"And you didn't like any of them? Or me?"
"I liked them all and you in particular.' David shrugged and added in a tone of apology, "There's a weakness in me. Or maybe it's the devil. I've been called a tom cat. I've explained it to myself by believing I fall in love with every girl I see. And, since I can't marry all of them, I marry none." He paused to sip coffee. "The answer's simple, I'm a confirmed bachelor."
With female perception, Jill realized David had not once used the word "love." Fortunately she had not allowed Lady Constance's fantasy about marrying her off to do more than cause her to examine David Reed more closely than before. A man who enjoyed removing a girl's close and then locking her in a cage could hardly be thought of as a good prospect. But, despite of that common sense view, she knew that she loved this man who might have been her captor. She saw him as she beheld Fingal, both were pursuing an impossible dream. And allowing life to slip through their fingers along the way.
"I could have fallen in love with you, David, if you'd given me the chance," she said. "In the little time I've been with you, I could have cared less about the bits of rope and chain. I liked everything you did to me. Now I'm going to go home feeling cheated."
"I've let you down," David said sadly. "I shouldn't have persuaded you to come back with me. It's taught me something about myself but it hasn't done you any good."
"Yes, it has. I've loved every moment. When I offered my hands to be tied a little while ago it must surely have told you something."
"I acted like an idiot. I'm sorry."
"David, we're probably just a couple of babes in the woods. This whole adventure has turned my whole world inside out. I'm serious about what I just said. There's the rope on the table. Would you like me to turn my back and cross my wrists."
"If I did so, it would be a weakness. Naturally it's something I want to do because a tired girl has for me a tremendous attraction. But I've said my piece and we'll let it go at that." He sighed. "But, sweetheart, nothing is forever. Today is not the end. Go home and pick up your life. Give yourself a bit of time. If, after a month or so, you want to come back, simply call me."
"David, I want to cry."
He laughed, "So do I! We've bungled this whole thing. Going home will do you a world of good." He picked up the piece of rope. "Here, take this with you to remember me by. It's as good a symbol of David Reed as anything I've got to offer."
* * *
It took only a few miles on the road to Cork for Jill Prospect to feel the heavy intoxication of freedom. In the first mile she had shed tears for David Reed and Lady Constance. But the day was altogether too lovely for grief. And in just a few hours she would be with her family and life would be normal again. Her heart was signing joyously when the black, official car drew level and motioned her to stop.
There were two policeman, both polite and utterly deaf to anything Jill had to say. Gravely they examined her documents, then searched the car while one asked her questions and the other rummaged in the boot. From the back of the car came the announcement and exclamation of triumph, "It's here, alright, Fred. She's the one we want."
Jill had never seen the small suitcase. Her retort was instant, "That's not mine, you've taken it out of your own car!"
With an air of infinite patience the men opened the suitcase to reveal the budging bags and packages. "There's enough drugs in her, miss, to get you a good seven years behind the bars." The policeman's tone was almost of congratulations.
With a terrible premonition, Jill protested and, although they listened, they did not hear. They closed the suitcase and taped the lock. The official voice was heavy, "You'll have to come with us, miss."
The sight of the handcuffs was almost too much for the girl who's hands had been joined far too often and far too much. She had to fight down an impulse to giggle, or scream or kick and run. She offered her left wrist to be cuffed. But when it was taken to join the right behind her back, she made motions of revolt. "You don't have to do this, you're exceeding your authority. You can't possibly see me as a dangerous criminal." Again there was no answer. She was politely aided into the back seat of the vehicle while the second officer drove her own car.
At the police station she was escorted directly to a cell, locked in, and left to stew.
Her world shattered, Jill stood in the center of the cage, with its stark necessities and highly visible lock. There was something wrong, there had to be something wrong! In support of this conviction the prisoner tore angrily at steel clad wrists. No prisoner once delivered safe behind the bars remained handcuffed. Certainly no girl would be treated thus by any civilized police. But her hands were locked tight behind her back and there was no one to whom she might complain. At the end of an hour of solitude, Jill was close to the hysteria of fear.
The wardress was only faintly reassuring. Like the men she had nothing to say and answered no questions. Like a mother with a child, she changed the handcuffs on Jill from behind her back to in front of her. She grasped an arm and said briskly, "This way, luv."
The keynote of the room was bareness. It spoke of prison. The furnishings were austere, a table and two chairs. In the center of the table there rested the tell- tale suitcase by which an innocent maiden was condemned. The man was surprising, ageless and well groomed. The pointed beard was finely trimmed. He spoke not to his prisoner but the to wardress, "Stand her in the light. Have her turn slowly several times, and then had her clasp her hands behind her neck."
It was no crazier than anything else. Jill found herself obeying the firm fingers on her arm. And when the wardress said, "I'll be outside the door. Call if you need me," Jill was left to face her male visitor with her hands clasped behind her neck as he desired. His voice was educated but beyond that without identity.
"Thank you. You may put your hands back to normal. You have been apprehended on behave of The Cause, for whom I am purchasing you." He smiled without mirth. "I had an Irish ancestor."
This man was too civilized for fear, but Jill gave him the benefit of her anger. "I'm sick to death of Irish whimsy," she said defiantly. "I'll also sick to death of this ridiculous Cause. Do you realize you're the second person to purchase my body? I suppose you've given them an incredible sum?"
As usual, it was as though she had not spoken. The voice was infinitely patient. "I am assuming, Miss Prospect, that you would prefer life with me to the many years behind iron bars to which that suitcase condemns you. Am I right?"
"Yes, you're right," Jill said with a sob. "I think prison would destroy me. But what would I expect from you?"
"I'm an artist. I paint girls. I also purchase them and keep a collection. You will become a prisoner but in a pleasant place."
Jill was breathing fast. She raised her hands to demand, "I could talk more rationally without these." She rattled the handcuffs. "Perhaps you'd be kind enough to take them off?"
"No, I prefer you wear them."
There was a terrible firmness about everything he said, as if no argument or logic could every change them. But desperately Jill countered, "Sir Thomas Rintoule gave me freedom. He won't appreciate your taking it away."
"I know Thomas Rintoule. He'll neither help nor hinder. We share business interests." There was a dry chuckle. "I suppose you are one of them."
It was as if it had all happened before. Jill no longer believed in escape or anything approaching a normal state of existence. For the centuries of the ancient land weighed her down. Without much interest she asked, "Where are you taking me?"
"To a garden. I'll leave you there among the foliage."
"And where is this garden?"
"It does not matter. Think of it as Eden."
"And how will I get there?"
"The lady outside will give you a shot. When your sleep is over, you will have arrived. Once you would have traversed the miles in chains. Now you'll simply dream them away." He was eyeing her intently. "When you come awake, you'll find yourself naked. As I said. I'm an artist. You'll remain handcuffed, I see no reason for a girl to be otherwise."
Jill's protests were choked by their very urgency. She heard herself say, "No, don't you do that!" as the wardress reappeared. Backed against the wall, in a state of indecision, Jill Prospect watched the needle enter her flesh. And the last thing she beheld before the darkness was the suitcase on the table.
CHAPTER EIGHT - THE GARDEN AND THE CHAIN
The first impression was one of gentle warmth, and the odors of greenery. The second of a knowledge of restraint-the familiar handcuffs and, in addition, a collar around her neck and from it a chain. Jill tested neither. And with her third discovery knew herself stark naked.
The girl was bonus, a bright eyed beauty of about Jill's age looking at her with amusement. "You've taken the longest time," she said cheerfully. "Welcome to the place without a name.' Still suffering from the drug-induced mists, she sat slowly up. She could see the end of her chain was locked to a ring bolt embedded in concrete. Her fingers explored a metal band and padlock on her neck.
"It weighs a ton at first," her companion assured cheerfully. "But you soon get used to it. We all have our necks padlocked the same way. His Nibs thinks it makes us cute."
Jill paused to ask, "His Nibs?"
"Hugo Severin is our master's name. By the way, I'm betty. And you're Jill. Welcome to the funny farm."
"He's not really our owner. Is he...?"
Betty laughed but without humor. "He sure is. He owns us completely, every tit, every bun, every twat. He owns us."
"It's insane. He kidnapped me in Ireland, but you're American, I can tell. Who is this guy?"
"None of us know. But he's very rich. He has to be to buy girls the way he does. And to own this lovely estate. He's put a collar and chain on all sorts of girls from all sorts of places. You'll get to meet them all eventually." Betty took a bewildered young woman into her arms and whispered, "If anyone, no matter if it's a servant or his Nibs himself, gives you an order, you'd best obey. Never pout or rebel, it just isn't worth the candle." Betty actually laughed. "Look what I got the last time I made a beef."
It was frightening. When her companion turned her pretty back, Jill gasped at the sight of a lattice work of whip marks. "There's a month old," Betty informed. "So you'll get an idea how severe they were back then. Be a good little girl and don't take a chance."
It was altogether too much, too soon. Questions crowded question but Jill realized time would answer all. She was still shrinking inwardly at sight of Betty's punished back and bottom when she asked, hopelessly, "What happens to us? I suppose what I'm asking is what is going to happen to me?"
Betty shrugged as if everything is commonplace. "He'll want to get you on canvass first time. But before he does, he may want to whip you as a sort of introduction or what he calls a welcome to his world." Betty sniffed. "I think the idea is to get us properly humbled and aware of being simply slaves. That's what we really are, you know-slaves. He does what he likes with any of us any day. He'll paint you in the damndest postures-one of his favorites is to hang a girl up by her wrists and see how well his brush depicts the weary agony she feels after a few hours in suspension." Betty laughed again at the look on Jill's face. "But don't worry, dear. He'll take you to bed sometimes and give you the most wonderful Rogering you could ever ask for."
Jill fingered the heavy links of her tether. "Obviously I can't escape while I'm chained like this," she admitted. "But surely some girl has managed to escape sometime. Hasn't one...?"
"Not ever, love," Better assured earnestly. "You'll be a lot happier if you forget escape and concentrating on pleasing the artistic idiot who's paid a lot of money for us. For goodness sake, don't ever get yourself whipped."
Jill felt certain it had all happened before. This concrete slab with the ring bolts and chains had, no doubt, dealt with maiden after maiden through the years. From what she could see of the garden it held a strange atmosphere of antiquity. And she could well imagine the Greek god Pan laughing at her from behind the trees. But what mattered most were the chains she could not break.
"How long have you been a prisoner here?" she asked timidly.
"Four years. He got me when I was seventeen." She shrugged disgustedly. "Not that being one of the older prisoners does me much good. When a girl gets to be around thirty, his Nibs passes her on to a brothel somewhere." Her laugh was now bitter. "His Nibs tells us this as though it were something to look forward to. But that the facts, Jill. We don't have much to look forward to." Betty gestured helplessly. "My time's up, sweetheart, and I'd best run back to the house before I overstay my welcome. Not your welcome but his. It's considered a good idea to have one of the old timers present when I girl wakes up. I wish there was more I could tell but you'll find out everything for yourself." Once more warm arms embraced the new arrival. The young lips were passionate with hunger. Jill could feel the unspoken yearning of a girl who's neck wore iron.
So she would be the same as Betty, Jill thought. And she wanted to cry as she watched her lovely companion vanish along the path into the trees and to the house. She was alone.
Jill's chain permitted her to step out beyond the concrete pad and take a couple of paces in any direction on the grass. Any attempt to go beyond snubbed her neck to make her step back to the concrete. Had the surrounding trees and shrubs, she might well have been a tearful prisoner. But for the moment she was content to sit and await the will of an artist.
Hugo Severin did not come. No one came. And the chained maiden increasingly felt the melancholy of the evening take possession of the garden and of herself. Jill was positive the place was ancient and probably peopled by a hundred ghosts. She become hungry and thirsty but there was neither food nor drink. When night descended, she curled up like an animal and tried to sleep. But the collar on her neck was an unfamiliar restraint, and even though she had chosen the grass on which to rest, she did not rest well.
The glory of the morning vied with despair. Jill found it hard to reconcile herself to the collar and the chain. It seemed so wrong and almost impossible that a metal band and a few links should hold her prisoner. The beauty of the garden beckoned with its promise of peace and exploration. She thought little of Hugo Severin and was strangely apathetic as to what he might do to her. Hating the thought, she knew she had become accustomed to lost liberty, to nakedness, and the will of others. The handcuffs might well have been grafted upon her wrists, so permanent they had become.
A servant brought food and drink. He smiled as he served but refused to speak. The tray he left with her held a hearty breakfast, and Jill attacked it with a fearful will. As is usual with good food and good coffee, she felt reborn.
There was something comical but also sinister about the male creature who served her needs. He was evil, but, on the other hand, not quite anything else. On his return he brought a pail of warm water, soap and a towel. By gestures he indicated she should wash while he watched. Jill's collar and chain were a remainder that she could neither protest or escape. Turning her back on her grinning audience, she performed as complete a washing job as is possible out of a pail. Every motion she made brought with it the song of links.
Once again alone there was a let down. She had been watered, fed and washed but was still chained to the ring in the concrete. The day stretched out ahead. Lovely as the view might be, Jill had no wish to stare at it forever.
The prisoner's ennui was relieved by the appearance of Hugo Severin, the man Jill had to come to think of as her owner. She saw him leave the house and saunter in her direction, carelessly carrying objects to cause an accelerated pulse in the girl who could not flee.
"Welcome to my home," he said cheerily in greeting. "You will have a chance to look around. I promised you a garden and here it is. Might I say how charming you look in your enslavement."
She was being played with. These pleasantries held only hints of unpleasant things to come. "Yes," she said, "thank you. But do I have to stay chained like this? It's a frightful bore."
"It's just a part of what I call the 'welcome'," he replied. "I notice you've been looking at what I carry. You're assumption is correct, they, too, are a part of the welcome you're about to enjoy."
"Please don't play with me. I know I'm helpless and belong to you." Jill made ineffectual motions with her handcuffed hands. "But I haven't done a thing to deserve your using that whip and riding crop." She paused uncertainly. "You're not going to do that, are you?"
"Ownership has its privileges, dear girl."
"Please don't tell me you're a sadist."
Severin's smile remained on his face but somehow changed, was a little harder. "I've already told you of my one-time welcome. We might call it the price of entry to my garden." He dropped the whip to the grass and cut the air with a fearful sound as though the crop were a living thing.
Jill flinched. Once more her plight was too bizarre to believe. Severin's pants were neatly creased, and his silk shirt open at the neck, an informal satyr, leaving her unsure of anything. Her voice, in hateful humility, came as from a distance, "Please don't. There's no need. I'll obey you. Please, please don't whip me."
"The welcome you are about to receive, dear, is pleasantly informal." Severin could have been a school teacher imparting Latin verbs. "Your chain permits a great deal of freedom. I suggest you adopt whatever posture you prefer."
It was real, it was going to happen. Jill stepped back a pace, and then another as the man with the crop came closer with evident intent. The chained girl knew it impossible to stand still for whatever he might do. The crop would hurt terribly. Now, having reached the end of her tether, she moved sideways in pathetic evasion. Severin was in no hurry but followed until coming within striking distance. He cut a scarlet line across the twin cheeks Jill could not hide. She yelped in shock and jumped.
Her owner followed.
In its own way the welcome was worse than being tied to receive the whip and crop. The freedom of the chain which held her was an illusion. Hugo Severin followed each move, explaining how efforts to escape the crop would only result in it cutting her in more tender spots than need be. Once more in the manner of a teacher he explained how the female bottom was perfectly designed for punishment. It could take the most punishment of any part of her body with less damage. As though to prove his point he delivered a wicked slash across her thigh to evoke a scream.
Jill knew it for what it was, a cat and mouse torture in a contest she could not win. Her hands burned where they received the crop in their effort to shield her flesh. The rest her below the waist bore scolding wounds of unlike places. No part of a girl was safe against the crop. The terrified girl knew all too well her back was being saved for the whip.
The unequal contest could have only one end. With a sob of despair sank to her knees to compress her nakedness to offer as little of her flesh as might be. When gentle male hands rearranged her position to provide a wicked openness to her bottom, Jill made no demur. She longed for the ordeal to end but knew it would be a long time coming. "I know you'd be sensible," Severin said approvingly. There are limits to pain. A human can adjust. Jill do so now, screaming beneath each fresh blow to vent what emotions her lips might the power to set free. The cut of the crop was slower now but just as hard.
There was intermission. Jill was helped to stand erect while her marked skin was examined by a man obviously a connoisseur of punishment. "You mark most beautifully," Severin assured. "Remember, I'm an artist, and after each welcome I paint a picture which always bears the same title: 'The Whipped Girl.' It is a reality to be obtained no other way."
Jill was sobbing, hard, dry, choking sobs without tears. Her face was behind handcuffed hands. The chain from her collar shivering beneath her tremors made its own metallic melody as if proud of delivering a maiden to the lash.
"You did well, my dear. Your welcome is half way through." Severin took her hands from where they hid her face to kiss the fingers with tenderness. His voice was soft beside her ear, "Perhaps if you lay flat to receive the whip its thong may not find your breasts."
Jill had lost all will to fight. The restraint to which she was captive felt heavy and demanding, telling her clearly she had no choice but to endure. Once more hating her humility, she sought the grass beyond the pad and nestled her nakedness as closely into mother earth as she could. After Severin's mention of the whip, her concern now was more with her breasts than with her back.
Jill would learn much of whips in time to come. Even as her back was streaked in agony, she realized the whip of her punishment was neither a cat-o-nine-tails nor a knout. It was a simple whip designed for teaching lessons to young women without the letting of their blood. The fearful memory of futile flight from the cutting crop made her lay still on the grass as her owner worked his will on the bare skin Jill could not hide. It went on forever until she longed to die.
All things end. Once more she was lifted to stand in hurt misery, but this time she was taken in male arms and gratefully placed her head upon a male shoulder to sob out overtaxed emotions to wet a costly silken shirt with tears. Her back was gently patted by a reassuring male hand. And even that, too, hurt.
When the last of Jill's tears had been dried and she stepped away from protecting arms, she noted the arrival of the same servant bearing a tray with coffee pot and cups. He placed it on the pad and silently withdrew.
"Nothing like hot coffee after a good whipping. Be a sweetheart and pour for both of us. A female filling cups is another of the lovely treasures of this life. Take your time."
Jill was enveloped in a vast thankfulness and managed to pour the coffee from its silver pot. Then she sipped greedily at the scolding brew while Hugo Severin talked.
"The first thing I want you to understand," Severin said easily is that there is nothing remarkable about this situation. Almost every man alive would use you as I use you, if he had the money to create the opportunity. I have purchased you with a sum of money greater than most men ever see. It goes to a good cause but, in any case, you're worth every penny of your cost." He surveyed her all over. "How are you feeling?"
"I hurt all over but I'm glad it's done." She looked right as his eyes without a trace of fear. "Thank you."
He nodded as though expecting no less. "What other reactions? I've a genuine interest. I'm a student of the female mind."
"There's a sort of shameful humbleness," Jill admitted slowly. "I'm ashamed of it, but I think it's what any whipped girl would feel. I ought to hate you but I don't."
"You're doing fine. What else?"
Jill held up chained hands and with them a loop of tethering chain. "It's made these seem more natural and less possible to escape. Of course, so far as the handcuffs go, I'm accustomed to them."
"In case you're interested, a handcuffed girl looses most of her initiative. And your adventures in Ireland?" Severin persuaded. "I know some of them but would like to heard of them from you."
"No one was really unkind. They just kept me prisoner and made sure I could never escape. At first my hands were tied with cord, not handcuffed. But then I went to Lady Constance and she amused herself by a number of mild forms of torture... It's all absurd, I came to be fond of her! I feel guilty about the way she's been cheated. She paid an awful lot of money to have me delivered to Castle Rintoule. Am I permitted to ask what you'll do with me now?"
Severin laughed. "Pretty much the same as Lady Constance, I suspect. There isn't any rule that I have to treat each girl as I discover her. You do know, don't you, that I have a big bird cage, full of beauties? Eventually you'll find yourself in there with them."
As their talk continued, its unreality faded in the light of mutual interests. Severin was hard to figure out. His welcome had been cruel but now he was charming. He made no move to set her free and the girl who bore his chains was scared to ask. When he finally carried away the tray and disappeared from sight, he left behind a baffled girl who's future held but little promise.
The whipping had subdued Jill's anxiety to escape. Severin's companionship lulled her fears. Jill felt only a dull apathy for her future which seemed composed only of pain and prison in a place so beautify as to make a vivid contrast with her plight. Finally she stretched out upon the grass. It was peaceful in the garden and the sun was warm. Overly stressed emotions felt relief in sleep.
She was awakened by girlish laugher. From the house emerged a group of seven or eight naked girls, already tossing back and forth between themselves a beach ball. Jill could discern Betty and note the handcuffs and padlocked iron collar each girl bore without seeming aware. Their play with the ball was a demonstration of proficiency with chained hands. If they saw her chained on the pad, they gave no sign. Finally their game took them farther and farther into the trees until only the sound of laugher was left.
At the end of an hour it was Betty who came to soberly report. "We have our exercise break in this garden almost every day," she told helpfully. "The girls have been told not to come and speak to you, but I'm sure you'll get to know them soon enough." She laughed bitterly, "We all end up sooner or later in the cage. I see you've had your whipping. Every girl in the place has been whipped like that so take it as conciliation. Hugo doesn't mean anything personal, it's just something he gets a tremendous charge out of. No girl's ever going to escape. Sorry, girl, I've got to run."
Jill found so casual a reference to the marks upon her skin disquieting. She had expected oh's and ah's and sympathy. But evidently in this place a girl's marked skin was not worth more than a comment. Disgustedly she wondered if in time to come, she, too, would play ball like a child in school. She lay back down and returned to sleep.
The next wakening was by the servant who still did not break silence. He unlocked the padlock on Jill's collar and dropped the heavy chain on the concrete. The padlock clicked shut once more, and within its grasp was a ring which held a strip of leather as a leash. A tug and Jill was made to understand that she should follow. Just one more shame. Jill would have preferred Hugo Severin would have at least come for her himself. Her companion also carried a bag. one of those airline hold all, the contents of which Jill could only guess. It seemed foolish to make a fuss so the handcuffed girl followed in meek obedience.
"My name Jason, and you be Jill," her guide said, surprising Jill, who had begun to think he was a mute. "Maybe one day our master let's me whip you." He bestowed a loving smile. "I promise you I do it real good."
With this promise of a future date, Jill marched disgustedly beside her jailer, who, from time to time, jerked painfully upon her collar.
Hugo Severin was already busy with a pair of easels who's virgin canvasses gave a promise of art to come. Jason emptied his bag upon the grass to reveal a mixed up bundle of rope and chain, and goodness knows what else. He gave Jill a wink of promise before retracing his steps.
"He's a useful fellow, you might as well get used to him," Severin said.
"If he ever whips you, it will be because he deserves it. Or I'm too busy to bother." He laughed. "It may never happen."
Jill stood in uncertainty, the leather leash just touching her marked back as it fell behind her. She could easily have run away but what good would it do? She know that thought was born of being flogged. Why take a chance! She stood waiting in passive surrender, an excellent example of how a young woman can be mastered by the thong.
"You're being sensible," Severin agreed as if once more reading her thought. "Come over beneath this bough while I toss a rope over it."
It was simple and hopefully painless. The rope snaked down, looped her handcuffs and was pulled back up, this time with her hands as passive cargo. The far end was then tied around the tree trunk to leave Miss Jill Prospect standing naked with her hands above her head, but not stretched or suspended. The position revealed her skin and the colors the whip and crop had added to it. Severin walked slowly around and around to express approval in the way the weals were changing color and become suitable vivid for his purpose.
"I don't expect you to stand still," he informed kindly. "You can shift within reason. And, after you get tired, you'll get the expression on your face that goes with what I pain. If you're a good girl, I'll let you look."
Jill watched her owner was now suddenly busily engrossed in placing on his canvass the image of a maiden punished. He went from canvass to canvass, making Jill turn around for a frontal or rear view of her nudity. Briefly, from time to time, he demanded her in profile. Unable to lower her arms, Jill fulfilled his prediction of weariness. And even though unable to see herself, knew she was portraying the emotions of a whipped girl to perfection. She was almost proud.
The captive model was allowed to talk. Her first question was about the group of naked girls she had seen in the garden without any seeming interest in a girl chained to the ground.
"You have to be curious, and why not? Each one of those girls is a beauty. But, one by one, I've put them in the cage while I seek the one ultimate example of feminity who can turn me on for keeps. I'm a respectful man and I'd like to marry the right girl."
"That won't be me, I'm not rich enough," Jill said. "You've got a polish I don't suppose I'll ever have. And, anyway, what you do marrying a girl who's been made to realize she's just a slave. I'd think a slavegirl would be a bore."
"That's where you're wrong, love. A true slavegirl has allure of the first Eve in Eden and all the others through the centuries. A man would have to be nuts to marry anything except a slave of proven worth. You're still in the running, my pet. Now, just a trifle to the right."
"If you keep on buying kidnapped girls, looking for your ideal, you'll end up with a hundred. How big is this cage you talk about?"
"That's not the way it works," Severin told her, obviously absorbed in his work. "I've loved every girl I've ever had, in a limited sort of way. But, just on the score of having too many around, I sell one or two from time to time to keep the herd within proper limits."
"I don't know whether to believe you or not."
"Believe me, it's true. I'm sure you think slavery and the selling of slaves is too bizarre and outdated for belief. But it's going on all the time. Lady Constance purchased you, I purchased you. I purchased every girl you saw running around today. There's an international marketing agency who will provide you with a slave, or someone anxious to buy one. It's a marvelous facility and shows the importance of being wealthy. Any man who accepts poverty is a fool."
"Wouldn't a girl from them be a lot cheaper than what you paid for me?"
"Sometimes. But you have to be careful not to get the castoff of some wealthy chap who's grown tired of her. They're pretty run of the mill. A few hookers, even. You're quality. I want you to remember that."
"I don't feel like quality-not like this."
"Damn it, girl, give yourself time! It's only this morning you got yourself whipped." Severin paused admiration. "Those marks on your skin are coming up wonderfully. Those shades and hues are simply wonderful. Turn around and let me work on your back a while."
Like everything else in the strange garden, it now seemed natural to talk to her owner while her back was turned. And Jill dared steal only an occasional backward glance. "But what do those girls do all day when locked in a cage?" she innocently inquired. "Same thing you'd be doing. I've exaggerated a bit, love," Severin admitted cheerfully. "They're only locked in the cage at night. On the other side of the house there's a big patio with a high wall in which they spend their days in the sunlight. It's got a swimming pool and a tennis court. And Jason has permission to serve cocktails at the appropriate time. But I don't allow girls to get drunk. Nothing worse than a drunken, naked girl. And then there's their glands. You've no idea, sweetheart, what a problem a girl's glands are to any guy who purchases her and puts her into a cage with other girls." He chuckled. "The more girls you lock in together, the more they all desire a man. I've even had some of them ask for permission to be whipped if they would be allowed to spend the night in my bed. Until you've owned a few girls, you'll never realize how powerful their glands can be."
"Why don't you turn them loose on Jason? I'm quite sure he's willing to help them."
"That's sorted. The girls would feel soiled with a servant servicing them. So I arranged for a virile and handsome young chap to visit from time to time. The girls and I have an auction. The girls bid on the privilege of spending the night with him. And the way they do it, since they have no money, is to offer strokes of the whip to me. How much is it worth to the girl to have sex? You'd be surprised how high the bidding will go. It surprises me. My young male friend tells me the more strokes they've volunteered for on their back, the more satisfying they are in bed. That young man has thought me a lot about the female mind."
When her gift of nakedness as a model came to an end, Jill was led to the twin canvasses before which she stood in awe. These paintings were genius! Here was an artist who extracted from feminine nudity a vivid, alive beauty surprisingly enhanced by the whip marks on her skin.
'They're marvelous!" Jill breathed. "You have a skill. I wouldn't have believed it possible to produce work like this in such short time. Where do you exhibit?"
"I don't. I paint only for me. If you're a good girl, I'll show you my collection. It's not just pictures of girls who have received their welcome. I have a good many studies of naked women in diverse distresses."
"But is that all you paint, the damsel in distress theme?"
"Of course! There is no other theme worth my skill. I adore every girl I paint and do my best to make her live."
"You've done it. You've made me alive on those two canvasses." Jill stood enraptured, gazing at herself. The girl on canvass stared back. Jill could swear she was alive.
It was a let down to be once more chained by her collar to the ring bolt in the concrete pad. Jill had been taken there by Jason who performed his task of making her secure with a good deal of relish. After his initial silence, he was no talkative.
"You are very beautiful girl," he assured earnestly. "Our master like you very much. He paint you often. Maybe he whip you sometimes and Jason get to watch."
"Is that all you think of?"
Jill was tired of these references to something she deeply feared. If, by obedience, she could avoid the whip, she was prepared to be the most obedient girl in the world. She told Jason that and added that it would be nice if he stopped staring at her breasts. Politely he deferred to her desire but transferred his visual attention to her pubic patch, thus proving a slavegirl can't win. Not even with the hired help.
Supper was a relief. The tethered girl had feared a repetition of the night before but Jason arrived with a laden tray and had his own idea as to how its contents should be enjoyed.
"I now put your hands behind your back," he said. "You see we have much fun."
Jill watched the insertion of the tiny key before exclaiming, "Don't be silly Jason. I can't possibly use a knife or fork with my hands behind my back. Leave them where they are."
She might as well have kept silent. The chain forbid flight and compelled the captive girl to allow her wrists to be handcuffed behind her back to make her totally helpless and dependent upon the male.
"You know kneel down and Jason feed the pretty lady. When you are ready you say please. And after I have fed you, you say thank you. It is best you be polite to Jason or you get no supper."
It was infuriating. Jill wondered if Severin was aware of this degradation. But Hugo Severin was far away and she was helpless, naked and alone with a grinning male who might be capable of anything. With a thrill of fear she realized rape might not be impossible. When she had knelt to her jailer's satisfaction, she said a meek and humble, "Please?"
There was a touch of childishness in Jason. The delight he now found in the control of Jill almost made the captive girl feel the shame worth while. He fed her with a spoon and she was compelled to a very artificial thank you after each bite. For Jason it was a most diverting dinner.
There were two ways to compel a girl to kneel. The bizarre supper had began with Jill kneeling erect upon her knees but after the second mouthful Jason gave his gracious permission for his captive to sit back on her heels. She thanked him for that, the only sincere thank you of the bunch.
Fortunately there was a trifle of dessert with a whipped cream topping. Since Jill's breasts were staring her jailer in the face, it was understandable he be inspired to dab each nipple with the white cream, which he allowed her to retain before himself sucking them clean with far more attention to detail than need be. Fortunately the dessert did not last long.
Jill did not like the attention his tongue paid to her nipples but her only protest was a twisting of her hands behind her back where he could not see.
It could not be said that Jason lost interest in Jill's nipples. But he ran out of whipped cream and therefore justification for cleaning off her erect nipples with his tongue.
Perhaps she would look back on it and laugh. Jill wondered if she would ever laugh again. Obediently she delivered pleases and thank you's throughout a meal she did not enjoy. But Jason's behavior was beyond reproach and she managed a good meal. She was terribly conscious of wet, pink nipples and wished they would return to normal rather than remain erotically aroused and easily seen in that condition. It was embarrassing.
When food and drink had gone, she was fulsome in her praise for services received, then waited in hopefulness for her hands to be returned to the front of her body. It did not happen.
When Jason picked up the tray with the obvious intention of leaving, she knew she had to try. "Jason, you've forgotten my hands. They're still behind my back. Please change them around."
Jason put on an admirable act of hurt surprise. "You sleep like that tonight," he explained. "It be nice chance for you. You look most pretty with hands back out of way like that."
"Jason, that's mean. Please don't leave me like this."
"Please to stand up," he requested. "Jason has fine idea for pretty girl." Robbed of hands, the act of rising was more difficult than Jill would have supposed. Jason's fine idea was something Jill would probably not like. But until she was hurt she would not cry wolf. Standing erect, she gazed at avid eyes to demand a curt, "Well?"
"Jason would like to feel up furry patch between legs."
"I don't think Mr. Severin would like you to do that."
"Master not here, Jason is here. You spread your legs so Jason get good look. And have room for hand."
"If you make me do this, Mr. Severin will punish you, I know he will. I'm his property, not yours."
"A feeling with the fingers does no harm. Pretty lady should enjoy to please Jason." His tone was full of promise. "If pretty girl stand still for Jason and not complain while Jason has good feel, Jason will be kind about her hands."
"Is that all you want, Jason?" The trapped girl hated to suggest there might be more but she did not wish to spend the night with her hand fastened behind her. Anxiously, she added, "You won't hurt me?"
"Pretty girl now being most sensible. Please to spread wide the legs."
Shame upon shame, each one worse than the last. Miss Jill Prospect considered that all a man has to do is handcuff a girl's wrists behind her back, and she was his utterly and completely. It was surprising handcuffs were not prominently displayed for sale in every store. Striving for unconcern, she stepped a foot out to either side to reveal in all its glory her pubic patch and pouting lips.
Whether it was fear of Severin or simply a natural gentleness, Jill would never know. But Jason possessed her with his left arm behind her back and his right exploring within the private place of this beautiful woman. In a seventh heaven, Jason felt to his heart's content. And thereby found glory.
Once more the chained girl was betrayed by her nipples. In response to Jason's practiced hand, Jill was responding as nature intended to hope desperately the response would not blossom into orgasm or prompt any more carnal concern that Jason already had. Her jailer bent ardent lips to her bare nipple while she stared ahead, striving to think of other things beside being Hugo Severin's slave.
As though by intuition, at the very moment he had gotten his victim erotically aroused, Jason ceased his play. Possibly he felt guilt, but like a general signaling retreat, he grandly announced, "I go now. You are very nice girl. I much enjoy."
"But what about my hands?"
"Ah, yes! Jason forget the little hands. But Jason keep his bargain. Please to turn, miss."
They were breathless moments but the servant was as good as his word. The key clicked, the cuff slipped open, and was brought around to join its fellow at the level of Jill's navel. "Thank you," said Jill, and she meant it.
With tray in hand, Jason marched victorious back to the house. Seeing little hope in anything to come, Hugo Severin's latest slavegirl disposed herself once more upon the grass.
Waking an hour after dawn, the chained girl did no more than turn upon her side and allow her mind to wander in speculations upon her fate. She might have been happier to think of other things but there was nothing more demanding to consider. Overriding all else was her sure and certain feeling that so long as she was chained in any way, there would be no escape. Even with hands cuffed in front, she would be an object where ever she might flee. Her mind turned to the playful girls of the day before, but even they had born the iron collar and padlocks on their necks, and handcuffs upon their wrists. If one of them had ever contrived escape, Betty would quite probably have told her. But more important than the chains which held her captive was the man she must obey, the man who had purchased her, Hugo Severin. If freedom every came, it must be by his decree.
Thinking of Hugo Severin, his captive girl mused of how good life might have been had she been free and the man she must now call master found his own freedom with punished girl. No matter how exquisitely he painted them, their punishment was implicit in all he did and said. In fact, in the very beauty of the place itself. Severin had hinted on her being different from the rest but quite probably all the others had been told the same story to keep up the scrap of hope every prisoner must have. Jill wondered if he were speaking of marriage or something more like a permanent enslavement of a girl. It all seemed most improbably and most ardently she longed the comfort of Lady Constance and Castle Rintoule.
CHAPTER NINE - A GIRL OF GREAT PRICE
It should have been a hero bent on rescue, or perhaps the master anxious to please a slave. It was neither and the slave watched the approach of a girl she had never previously seen, a girl who carried a tray which spelt breakfast. And a girl who's neck bore the iron collar and padlock as did Jill's.
Jill stood in greeting and said, "Hello."
"Your name is Jill Prospect and I'm Melody." The voice was cheerful as the visitor positioned the tray. "It's always a bit rough at first," she said. "And we all know the boss just purchased you. Anyway, welcome to the club."
"But you're not handcuffed!" Jill heard her own voice accusing.
"No, I'm not," Melody said without concern. "I had to carry the tray and that bag of tricks, so I get to use my hands for a little while. Don't worry, they'll be back in irons long before bed time."
Jill liked her, and here was a chance to ask questions. "Were all those girls I saw you with yesterday purchased the same way I was. I would have thought Hugo Severin would have enjoyed a bit of kidnapping."
"He's done that, too. But the end result is always the same. You're handcuffed and get a collar on your neck. I wear the same iron collar as you and it's never been off in the two years his highness has kept me prisoner. Come on, let's eat breakfast before it gets cold. It was better than yesterday. Melody did the honors, laughing about bringing her own breakfast to share with the new girl who had so much to learn. This magic of a good companion, plus good food and hot coffee lifted Jill's spirits. But one more question was still there to be asked. "You look so free, aren't you tempted to escape?"
Melody shrugged. "What's the use? I'd never make it. You can't see it but there is a wall around this garden even a monkey couldn't climb. Then I'd be hauled back and have to endure some damned awful punishment. I'm afraid I'm prone to punishment. Look at my back." Melody had obviously not been recently whipped but the faded marks were testimony enough to past punishment.
"Did Severin do that to you?" Jill asked in a return to dolor.
"He didn't do it himself, what he did do was his favorite trick of making one of the other girls do it for him. He's got a sure fire system of making sure the girl whips the victim real good, or she gets twice as much herself while watching the first girl get hers." Melody seemed unconcerned as she added, "Slavegirls can't possibly win."
"Does he take us to bed?"
"Sometimes. He's real good at it. But you'll find he rations himself. You actually have to beg for it or he'll leave you alone. He's got it made there, too, because with as many of us as there is, there's always one or two in heat and not much caring what they had to do to earn his attention. I'll bet there never was a guy anywhere, any time who had it as good."
It was so good to eat and drink like that with a girl who might have been a replica of herself. Jill felt better until, towards the end of their meal, she though to ask, "What's in that bag you brought along? May I see?"
"Oh, that." There was a great deal of disgust in Melody's voice. "I haven't told you, but I've been a naughty girl and have to be punished." She smiled brightly. "And it's you who has to do the punishing. Just the way I told you, remember?"
Jill stared aghast. "You mean he expects me to whip you or something else equally as horrible? That's silly. I wouldn't dream of such a thing."
It was as if Melody were happy to let the subject drop. "Darling, I really ought to tell you how becoming your lattice work of whip marks is. The sob really let's a girl have it during her welcome. But I don't suppose yours is any worse than mine was long ago. I'm really sorry you've got stuck with me this way but we can't fool around much longer. I've only been given a couple of hours to have breakfast and have you whip me. I have to be back at the house before noon."
If Jill could have run away, she would have done so just to escape an outrageous demand she could not believe. Doubtfully, she asked, "But do you have the key to the chain. I can't go far the way I am."
"Sure, it's here in the bag. Take it and unlock yourself. It's a nice feeling. I would have freed you before breakfast if I had thought of it."
It was, indeed, a good feeling as Jill's heavy chain clattered to the concrete. She returned the key but said, with firm decision, "I'm not going to do it. I absolutely won't."
"I know a good tree, one we've used before," Melody said matter-of- factly, as if Jill had not spoken. "Come along and I'll show you a bit of the garden, and then we can get the job over with."
"But I said I won't do it."
Melody clasp the freed maiden to hold her at arm's length with firm hands upon bare shoulders. At this close range Jill could detect tears waiting to be shed. "Please," Melody pleaded in a voice close to breaking. "Just do it the way I tell you. If you don't, we'll both be a lot worse off. Come on."
Jill followed to the edge of the concrete pad where she paused, expecting the snub of the chain. They both laughed over that.
When the girl about to be whipped said impatiently, "Don't just stand there, love, you're not chained anymore. Let's go."
It was true, except for the iron collar padlocked on her neck, Jill Prospect became excitingly aware of the sweetness of freedom. Had it not been for the bag Melody carried, Jill would have been a very happy girl.
The two naked girls made their way across the greenery of lawn with the trees looming suddenly close. Jill's heart was betting fast in her search for words by which to finally refute the task her master had imposed and Melody happily took for granted.
They found a pleasant, sunlit place where Melody exclaimed, "This one will do just fine. I'll put my arms around the trunk and you can handcuff my wrists on the other side. She laughed grimly. "I wish we didn't have to bother with fastening me at all, but I'm damned if I can stand still for it. I tried once but earned extra strokes by rolling around on the ground." She held up the handcuffs. "You won't mind, will you?"
It was Jill's opening. "Of course I mind," she retorted defiantly. "I can't do it, I know I can't. And I'm not even going to try."
"But you'll be punished horribly, darling."
"So, okay. I'll be punished. Do you think whipping you wouldn't be a punishment?"
Melody shrugged. Without concern she snared her wrist in one steel cuff and clicked it snug. "There, I've done half the job for you. I've been waiting for you to say what you just did and get it out of your system. It's a natural way for a new girl to feel."
"It's a natural way for any girl to feel."
"He should have given you more time to get whipped again yourself and watch other girls get whipped. You don't have the background to do this job yourself. It's just a case of too much too soon. Come along, darling, fix me to the tree. It's a lovely tree, isn't it?"
"I'm not going to."
Melody's second sigh was a patient as her first. "Let's do a bit of quiet thinking about this," she suggested reasonably. "I've been sentenced to five strokes on my bottom with the riding crop and ten on my back with the whip. It's not all that terrible a punishment. But if we both go back, me without a mark, my sentence gets advanced to ten on the bottom and twenty on the back. His Nibs would probably lay them on me himself, and he strips hard. This is only a case of being cruel to be kind."
"I don't care, I won't do it."
"I've just told you about me," Melody continued. "But will also earn yourself the same punishment as me. That's the last thing you need on top of the way your back and bottom are already. Jill, please stop being heroic."
"I'm not being heroic, I'm refusing to be cruel."
"Dear, we simply must get on with this job. I told you about the time limit. If we don't get back by the deadline, there'll be other punishments in addition. This place has got a punishment waiting around every corner." Melody thrust her breast and belly hard against the trunk and embarrassed it with open arms. Looking back over a bare shoulder, she invited, "Come along, darling, Gets get it over."
Jill was conscious of being influenced by the awful punishment Melody had described. Another twenty five strokes with crop and whip was just too much. Slowly and doubtfully she went to the fatal tree to take the handcuffs awaiting her attention. She had never handcuffed another girl, this would be the first time. As though in desperation, she savagely encircled Melody's right wrist in shinning steel to click shut the wicked jaws from which no girl could ever escape. Miss Jill Prospect stepped back to distastefully survey her work.
"Thank you, sweetheart," came Melody's voice, still holding laughter. "I knew you would do the right thing. And don't you ever forget it's the right thing. Every time you mark my skin, I want you to assure yourself it's right and sensible for both of us. The crop and whip are in the bag." Melody was gorgeous, full curves and lovely full breasts pressed hard against the wooden trunk. Her blonde hair danced around her head whenever she turned to look at Jill. The bag was at her feet and it was easy for Jill to pull out the instruments by which the inviting flesh of the handcuffed girl would soon be marked. She swung the crop in the first experimental strike on maiden curves.
"sweetheart, you'll have to do better than that." Melody was looking back anxiously. "I won't tell you it didn't hurt but it could hurt a great deal more. I've got to go back and show some honest to goodness weals." Jill was dismayed, she had supposed her blow more than adequate to produce the desired result. Watching for a scarlet weal to form, she beheld only a pink blush which slowly faded before her eyes. In desperation she abandoned caution and struck again with all the strength of her young arm, and then stood appalled.
Melody was frantically tugging at pinioned wrists after emitting an yelp of shock and pain. Instantly she was panting and her words were interspersed with gasps. "Darling, you've got the hang of it. Don't mind me or what noises I make or how I tug at the tree. Proceed."
Jill was suddenly back, chained upon the pad with Severin slashing the bareness of her bottom with a vicious strokes she could not endure. She recalled her feelings then, the sounds she had made, and her pleadings so easily ignored. She struck again in fearful curiosity.
Melody's scream was bitten into silence to be replaced by the sounds of anguish. Jill had to suppose that all girls made these sounds, and tugged with all their strength against their fastenings. She heard Melody's voice in disbelief, "I'm almost certain I'll scream, darling. Don't let it bother you. I'll be okay a few minutes after you give me the full sentence. Please try and don't let the tip lap over across my hips or breasts...
Whatever else she might have said was shattered by the scream, Jill had to suppose was a tribute to her skill.
The wealing of the lower curves was quickly done. Five strokes with a riding crop are easier to impart than to receive. The now sweating Melody was gasping her way back to the present, leaving her hands limp within the cuffs. Jill observed her work with anguished eyes and found it good. Bitterly she knew the greater her revolution, the more certain she could be of approval, both from the girl who bore the marks and the man who owned both of them.
"Terribly sorry, love." Melody's tone was rather apologetic. "I'll be proud of you when ever I get back to the house and have a look in a mirror. You're quite wonderful, you know. And we're half way through."
"No we're not. You said your back had to have ten."
"Never mind that. You're through with one part of me and now you start on the other. I'll make a shocking amount of fuss and noise over the whip you're going to use but don't let it bother you. If you hit a gong, it makes a frightful racket and that's the way it is with us girls."
Jill know Melody was correct. The whip she held was the same one as Severin had used on her for his outrageous welcome. Remembering maiden breasts crushed hard against the bark, and the concave belly seeking the protection of the tree, she measured each stroke of the thong in a bizarre but cautious cruelty. She paused often but never long enough to elicit complaint from the girl who's wrists screamed anguish as she punished them without intent. Melody was fixed but good!
Ten lashes are by no means a lattice work on virgin skin. The novice sweating to match her victim found herself able to place a succession of weals down from the shoulders to meet the scorch of punished hips. She then stood, holding the wicked whip, to watch the fastened girl gasp and sob her way back into the small world of her captivity.
Jill searched the bag and could scarcely use the tiny key fast enough to free sadly chaffed wrists and then to clasp their owner in her arms. She then sobbed out her own sorrow in what she had been forced to do. It took Melody a surprisingly short time to return to normal.
Once more they held each other as girls are apt to do, deeply moved. After hours and days of male dominance, Jill found in the close clutch of female skin and in the smell of female sweat comfort to assuage a hunger which had mounted steadily from her last day at Rintoule. The two girls took turns filling the bag then walked briskly from the scene of Melody's punishment and Jill's indoctrination into an erotic rite.
Suddenly beholding things she knew too well, she asked, "Must you put the chain on me? I'm so sick of sitting and sitting with nothing to do."
"Yes, I must, darling. You know I must. I'm going to handcuff you as well. You can have the pair still warm from being on my wrists. Hold out your hands."
The handcuffs could be borne, Jill had come to terms with them. But the padlocked chain was an enemy and the collar around her neck a passive ally. But she stood still and accepted both with ill grace. And when she had been made secure, her joined hands flew to the metal around her throat as if to assure it was really there. Melody, feeling much better, laughed at the feminine gesture. "Yes, darling, you're safely chained, you can't get loose. And if you want to make love to your collar, no one is going to mind. Irons do wonders for you, so wear them and be glad. A lot of girls don't look half as good in them as you."
"You're just trying to cheer me up. I suppose you're going to run away now and leave me chained up and alone. Can't I go with you?"
"You will soon enough. But enjoy this place while you can. It's a lovely garden, and when our master lets you loose you'll miss it. You saw the way us girls behaved when we were let out for exercise. We love the place, it's an exciting feeling to be free."
"You weren't free, all of you were handcuffed. And, anyway, you've got those iron collars on your necks even if they're not attached to anything."
"You said yourself you don't notice the handcuffs and it's the same with all of us. Stop beefing, darling, and have a good look at my back and bottom."
"You're marked terribly, Melody. I'm sorry I did it."
Jill was suddenly kissed, the bag was picked up, and in a couple of minutes she was alone.
The next day Hugo Severin unlocked the chain from her neck and told her she was free to roam his garden. Jill was forced to suppose there was good in everything. She had hated the chain and, now free of it, discovered a glory in emotions. She ran and ran, making her exploration of the green garden and trees a joyous experience. She toured the full length of the enclosing wall and relinquished any thought she might have had of escape. The garden was beautiful but it was also a prison.
Loneliness was Jill's only companion. It closed in her quite suddenly an hour after her release. The woods were suddenly alive with the menace of darkness and the grassy slope told her she would go no where, no matter how she ran. With a terrible longing, she wished for Melody or Betty or Lady Constance. It did not occur to her to wish for a man.
Jill's time in the garden lasted five days. Ridiculously she returned each night to the concrete pad and slept there as though still chained. For her the pad had memories of human associations in a way the rest of the garden did not. Her next meeting with Hugo Severin came as a surprise.
Jill had been walking the wall in the same manner as a tiger paces back and forth behind the bars. Wearing of this, she allowed her steps to take her through the woods without either destination or purpose. Suddenly there was Severin with but a single canvass. He was intent upon it with his brush when his most recent acquisition came into view. But it was not Severin who elicited the gasp of shock, but rather the girl who was his model.
The scene held Jill rooted in amazement. The naked girl was not totally suspended, her toes still found refuge in the grass but she was wickedly stretch by a single arm who's hand was fastened above the bowed head by a rope over and a sturdy branch. The girl's other wrists was secured by a handcuff to it's opposite ankle to leave her held motionless by one stressed arm, and an ankle and wrist cuffed awkwardly. The sad nakedness was bathed in sweat and had obviously been held thus a long time.
"Come and have a look," Severin invited as though knowing Jill had been there all the time.
It was the same eerie magic. The model had simply been transported from where she stood, bound and helpless, to the canvass of a genius. "A girl has to suffer before she's ready for painting," Hugo Severin said conversationally. "I'm getting a nice effect by keeping her stressed. It's not more than she can bear. You'll notice I've left her toes where they can reach the ground. I've only fastened her like that an hour ago. Look at the work I've managed... I'll paint you again sometime."
Every strained muscle and tendon was there upon the girl herself. A stretched breast and belly screamed for help from the canvass. Even the distorted sex, pulled sideways and exposed by the binding, became alive beneath the artist's brush.
Jill wished to turn away but stood rooted in fascination at what she saw.
"I brought an extra canvass along." Severin's tone was without emphasis. "If you want to change places with the girl, I'll do one of you. You're probably a better model than she is, but an artist takes the best he can get. Are you interested?"
It was too utterly outrageous. Jill was uncertain as to whether Severin was really serious. But he was totally absorbed with his brush, and her instant denial of such a wish failed to cause a faltering of his hand. However, his voice was potent. "I didn't expect you to want to. On the other hand, you might want to give the girl a break. I'm sure she'd be grateful." It was Severin's cunning all over again.
The model, who heard every word, raised a tired head to stare directly at Jill in mute appeal. Probably she dared not speak but the message was in the eyes-the maiden being painted wanted out.
It is fatal to rationalize. If you don't want something, then turn your back and run. It was a precept Jill had got quickly learned. Already between herself and the suspended girl there were vibrations. The model who dared not speak yearned urgently for release, telling Jill that an hour bound as she was bound could not be all that bad. She was surviving, so would Jill.
Perhaps it was the magic of Severin's brush or of the man himself. Jill was not conscious of decision but heard her voice declare, "If it would please you, Master, I would take her place. I think she needs a rest."
"It pleases me greatly," Hugo Severin said. "And so it does you."
It took but little time. A girl does not struggle but willingly accepts her fate is a boon to any artist. Jill stood, wondering how stupid she could be while the weary model was giving back her strained arm and the handcuff between her ankle and wrist was unlocked. She sank to the grass to message her wounds and gaze up at Jill in adoration. "You're a sweetheart," she said simply. "I love you."
There is an excitation in the process of being bound, in the imposition of the will of others on one's self. Jill felt it now as her right wrist was roped and raised above her head, and then her left handcuffed to her right ankle, a wicked contortion she knew she was going to hate. As the tension bit her wrist and she was hoisted up on her toes of the left foot were all that touched the ground. The freed prisoner watched her replacement with a sympathy that helped Jill not at all. Jill cursed herself as a fool.
Everything hurt. Nothing was right. Jill was painfully contorted in an unattractive pose. Within minutes she knew herself racked and misshapen as had been the girl on the canvass now discarded. Severin's command was crisp, "Stay down and rest, Stephenie, I'm not finished with you yet." Jill knew it too late to chance her mind. Stephenie refused to meet her eye, and pretended to close her eyes in sleep. The maiden now suffering in her place could feel no hatred. Stephenie had earned whatever comfort she could find. For Jill there was no only an increasing protest of outrageous from wrists and arms and body in an unnatural position.
Stephenie would not dare help and Severin would see no need. Jill was serving an artistic purpose and would be in that servitude until his brush ran dry of inspiration. Increasingly Jill understood the cruelty of the bindings which held her thus. If she could have bargained for release, she would have offered herself. But Severin was a man surrounded by naked girls he could do with as he pleased. What bargaining power did another naked and bound girl have?
Time passed. Terribly long time which the tortured model had no means of measuring. Tears formed and trickled down her cheeks. If Severin notice, he made no remark. Probably he painted them in, too.
It was best not to try and move but just to hang and to thrust hard into the grass with her toes. The wrist and ankle handcuffed together were a frustration and punishment in themselves for a girl who had committed no sin. Jill was having a very bad time. Stress has its breaking point. Agonized beyond endurance, Jill broke the code, her voice urgent in her need. "Please let me down. Please give me a break, I can't stand this any longer."
Severin paid no heed but Stephenie got slowly to her feet to add her own bit. "She's had enough, Master, and I've had my rest. Please let me take my place back."
Severin surveyed his nude possessions with a measure of irritation. Disgustedly he said, "Very well, if that's the way you both want it." He used his brush in sudden inspiration before turning his full attention to the girls he owned. He freed the rope which held Jill's arm in torment. She fell limply and thankfully to the grass. He stood over her, as if searching her still bound body for inspiration for one more picture.
A minute passed before Severin unlocked Jill's ankle to use the freed cuff on her punished wrist to make her hands once more prisoner. He did the same for Stephenie to have two nude girls standing in abject surrender awaiting his command. But instead of fresh, painful poses, he indicated the easel, his pictures and the bag. Jill was thankful his voice held no anger. "I'll carry the pictures, you two can bring the rest. Walk in front and don't complain about being handcuffed."
The easel was difficult for a girl with joined hands but Stephenie had evidently performed this task before and handled it with competence. The bag was simply a bag which Jill supported with hands Severin should have left free. In awkward disarray they headed for the house.
Jill remembered the chain waiting for her on the concrete pad but said no word. She supposed that having carried the bag to its destination, she would be sent back to spend the night in loneliness. But reaching the house, they were ushered inside to be met by a smiling Jason and relieved of the burdens. Severin's tone was crisp, "lock these two in the cage, Jason. I'll be in my study."
It was a very large chamber and a very large cage. Seven naked woman bestowed their attention as Stephenie and their new acquaintance were ushered within the bars and the gate clanged shut and locked with a zestful finality by their grinning guard. "Tomorrow one of you," he said with joy, "will be sold. You be good girls."
Their stories were all the same, so none had much of interest to tell. But they asked Jill numerous questions about the outside world. It quickly became apparent that once inside the cage a girl was severed from the world. They listened avidly to even the most commonplace scraps of daily news.
Each girl was handcuffed as though they were an isolated tribe who had no need of hands. The collar and padlock was heavy upon each maiden neck, and no female skin was without its markings of the whip. Betty summed it up, "We're all in the same boat, darling." She laughed bitterly. "Severin ought to put up that sign about 'abandon hope, all ye who enter here.' That's us for sure."
The girls were unexcited about Jason's news of a sale the following day. The girls had little hope of release because, as they said dismally, they were often looked at but rarely purchased. Severin's price was either far too high or else they simply failed to please. They shrugged indifferently and said that the men who peered at them through the bars might well have been the guy next door.
The imprisoned girls admired Jill's wounds and told their own graphic stories of being whipped and of their master's ingenuity at rendering them into horrible bondage positions that contorted the female form. And all caught on canvass. They assured Jill earnestly that disobedience or disrespect was a painful indulgence she could not afford.
The girls were aware of the agency by which they were bought and sold. It was an intangible evil when out of sight. But in the morning it intruded upon their captivity by providing prospective purchasers with whom Severin discussed the virtues and vices of each beautiful package of curves. And, when requested, would extract a package from the cage for more intimate inspection and shrewd questions the girl could only hope to answer as desired. Mostly nothing happened, and a girl could find no reason for rejection. She was simply put back into the cage and, providing the client was still interested, another girl would take her place. There was an atmosphere of anticlimax about the whole thing.
On the second night Jill was taken to her master's bedroom.
Her hands were changed from front to back as Severin explained his preference with unconcern. "I prefer a girl as a helpless offering, a maiden sacrifice who can do nothing to defend those bits of herself girl's prize so highly." He looked her up and down with satisfaction. "Go, spread yourself upon the bed, my dear, I'll soon attend to you."
Arranging herself for what she supposed could not be described as rape, Jill discovered that hands cuffed behind her back were no help at all, and that, no matter how she tried, she was forced to lay upon one of her arms. As his slavegirl readied herself for ravishment without hands, Severin chatted. His only question was one Jill feared was loaded and should be answered with caution. "What did you think of the sale day we had yesterday?"
"I didn't understand it. None of us were sold. Why didn't one of those men buy a girl?"
"My price is high. When I let a girl go I get top dollar."
"Is that the only reason? I felt slighted that none chose me."
"You were not for sale." He laughed. "Don't be disappointed. Being sold is not the high road to escape. After they've been in my cage a few months or a year or so, the girls long to be picked and purchased. But those we are probably end up wishing I'd kept them in the cage."
Severin was virile beyond any previous experience. His slavegirl forgot the arm beneath her back and the bite of steel on captive wrists. Jill wiggled, thrust back, and moaned in a manner most pleasing to a male. When he was done with her, and returned her to the cage, he said no word of praise, but she sensed his pleasure and pride in ownership of a girl so gifted for his lust.
From this point on, Miss Jill Prospect spent each night in his bed, hands cuffed behind her back. He was deft to her pleadings about having the handcuffs taken off, and after a while, he captive dropped the subject to accept joined hands as a part of slavery. Jill kept no tally but when a month had passed, she was told that tomorrow there would be another sale. Without hope of purchase, she could have cared less.
The girls now laughingly called her the sultan's favorite. None had shared Severin's bed so long. But none were envious, even though admitting their master's favor being a relief from boredom. They frankly admitted that after their second whipping at time of purchase, any sense of shame had fled and they no longer felt it wrong to openly desire sex.
Jill approached her second sale day with unconcern. She felt certain she had met Severin's approval and each night she spent with him strengthened and enlarged their rapport to increase her confidence that, indeed, she was the sultan's favorite and not for sale.
The second time was different from the first. For Jill supposed herself still unavailable, she was forced to wonder if her thirty carnal nights in which Severin had taken her up a hundred unknown paths of sensuality might not have somehow put a mark on her. Made her more erotic to the male. She remembered once reading that virgins were a bore, and that only girls who found joy in their own carnal nature would survive enhanced and enriched for the delight of men. Miss Jill Prospect was not being noticed through the bars.
Jill was still escorted to Severin's bed every night. But on the forth day after the sale day, he startled the slavegirl with unexpected news.
"Something has happen to you, Jill," he told her as they sat on the bed. "You were beautiful when I bought you but you're twice as lovely now. Five of the men who came to buy and went home empty handed spoke of their desire. Their desire is you.
"But didn't you tell them I was not for sale?"
"It made no difference." He laughed wryly. "It's a disease. When a man desires a woman, he will go to any length to possess her. I turned down some bids that would raise your hair if you know how big they were."
"So you'll be feeling proud you own me. Aren't you lucky!"
Severin ignored the sarcasm but thought his thoughts aloud. "I'm a rich man but for any of us with money there is always the attraction of an unexpected windfall. I can no longer ignore your worth on the open market." He sighed. "I had plans for you, as you know. But there is always another girl and another time." He eyes became intent. "Sweetheart, tomorrow you'll be sold by auction."
Jill wept and threw herself into such an abandonment of sexual excess that here and there throughout the night, there were brief moments where she believed she had Severin conquered. And, by the next day's light, he would cancel the auction.
But money is a powerful lure. In the new day. Miss Jill Prospect was handed over to several members of the female staff to be prepared for the coming sale. The women were highly skilled and their hands harsh upon her naked whenever she demurred. In the end she was draped in a white sheet fastened at her neck and led to where men would make their bids to buy her body.
The girl to be sold wondered whether Severin had deliberately contrived the classic scene of the auction block and the steps leading up to it. Jason was resplendent in fancy dress. She was still handcuffed and wondered cynically if the steel upon her wrists would be sold with her free of charge.
The agency had come up trumps. Twice the expected number of prospective purchasers crowed the room, sipping the free drinks, and chatting in good natured humor, while their eyes constantly returned to the still empty stage. When Jason led Jill up the fatal steps, he carried an impressive hide whip as his badge of office. With it he positioned a frightened girl to his best advantage, basking in the stare of hungry eyes.
Jill had been coached, not that such a stereotyped scene needed explanation. She knew she would be stripped bare to stand before two dozen men. When Jason's fingers fumbled at her neck, it was no surprise to have her white covering tore from her naked innocence and tossed aside. Jason had a proper sense of drama and the male gasps which came as one was his reward.
Jill was accustomed to being naked in the sight of men. Fingal's boys had been the first but not the last. But the atmosphere of this place and the nature of her blatant exposure on the block set her heart to thumping as she was allowed to stand for several moments before Jason turned her slowly around and around that all might see her curves and private places. Obediently Jill clasp her hands behind her neck to stand erect, offering herself for sale as she gazed stonily above the assembled heads towards a dim future. She was grateful for the pose for, even through it shamed, it provided a place for the chained hands she otherwise would have found an embarrassment.
The bidding lasted fifteen minutes, during which time Jill was required to adopt poses, some of which she would have preferred to leave alone. Jason required her to spread her legs, then turn and touch her toes, and some other quaint refinements by which the female is shown off to the male. After the first shock, she found herself entering into the atmosphere and was soon flaunting herself in a wary that met with approval. She was knocked down to an ordinary looking male for a sum of money so large she could scarce believe her ears. Once more, Miss Jill Prospect had been sold!
Jill did not see Severin again. She hoped he was feeling guilty at disposing of a girl she thought he loved. But she had little time for such speculation as Jason, still glowing with importance, handed her cuffed wrists to the successful bidder, who, strangely enough, seemed little interested in his expensive victory. He waved aside Jill's hands and requested they be joined behind her back and the sheet replaced to hid her nudity. When this was done he led her through a doorway to an awaiting car. The Arabian prince vanished as a frightened girl was positioned in the back seat of the transportation which would take her into fresh slavery. She was trembling when her ankles were tightly bound and she discovered the familiar handcuffs were far too tight upon her wrists. Her new owner said no word as he bandaged her eyes.
It was not a long drive and when it came to an end Jill sensed some sort of garage. She was lifted bodily and in less than a minute knew herself a passenger in a rising elevator. When it stopped, she was once more gathered into male arms and carried into a future she could only guess. The next thing was to placed upon bound feet, cautioned to silence while the sheet was once more whisked away, leaving her teetering and trembling in naked apprehension made doubly terrible by darkness. Jill had no way of knowing if she was alone or the focus of a hundred eyes.
The silence was demoralizing and she was much tempted to cry for help. Lamely she tried to dislodge the blindfold against a bare shoulder.
But robbed of arms she had to stand exactly as she was and could do nothing about her blindfold. She stood naked and helpless for whatever might come next. She had no hope it might be good.
By the time she heard the footsteps, Jill was in a dither of apprehension to the point of considering hopping around the floor in each of a chair or table she might use to rid her eyes of the blindfold. Her nostrils flared when fingers did the job for her. Blinking in the sudden flood of light, she beheld the incredible that she had not expected to ever see again.
It was David Reed.
CHAPTER TEN - THE MAN WHO PAINTS WHIPPED GIRLS
Lady Constance Rintoule was annoyed, or at least put on a good facsimile thereof. She was looking across her desk in a mixture of cruelty and pure love at a picture which had no place in any business office. It's essential beginning was a broad base from which arose a steel piston four inches in diameter. A lever at the base said clearly the steel cylinder of the piston could be lowered or raised as desired. And at its top was what seemed at first glance an ordinary bicycle seat made of polished steel. This seat provided only the smallest space for an occupant. Like a saddle, it was curved in front and up at the back. Within the confines of this strange perch was a female crotch. No doubt the crotch was finding its perch painful because of its narrow ridge and hardness. There were no sharp edges, everything was rounded and symmetrical. The owner of the crotch had her wrists crossed and tied behind her back with cord which was then drawn tight through a hole in the back of the saddle provided for that purpose. Leather anklets cinched down to the base of the device made it impossible to dismount. Who ever sat within the little saddle was there to stay. The girl who sat there now was Miss Jill Prospect.
When Constance spoke again, she still contrived a tone of dark displeasure. "I wanted to immobilize you in some way or the other to keep you from getting into any more trouble. As soon as my misguided husband set you free you should have instantly sought me out and I would have put you in chains so that none of these awful things would have happened... "
"Connie, please get me off this thing, it's agony... And you know where."
"Sure I know. It's right where you deserve it, my pretty pet. This is just a preliminary to the other punishments you'll have to suffer."
The girl in the saddle was a mixture of emotions, paramount being her love for her mistress. But at the moment it was tempered and modified by a punishment she was certain was splitting her in two. "I couldn't help anything that happened," she wailed in dire distress. "Connie, you haven't heard it all. Get me off this thing so I can talk properly... Please?"
"You'll tell me the whole thing while you sit exactly as you are, dear. So the sooner you get on with it, the better. Gosh, it's wonderful to possess a naked girl again. I missed you."
"And I missed you. I missed you terribly." Jill twisted unhappily against tied hands and ankles held six inches above the floor. Dismally she voiced anguish, "There's too much of it to tell, I'll be dead before I get half done."
"I'm sure you're hurting, dear. That's the function of your pretty little horse. You look very pretty sitting here, nice and erect with your breasts sticking out. And those lovely legs held beautifully on each side. I'd advise you to get started."
It hurt too much to struggle and only Lady Constance could set her free. Jill's pussy, crushed against a ridge of steel, was demanding action. Hesitantly she began at the point where Sir Thomas had bestowed her freedom to send her upon her way. She put all the pathos she possessed into ever word. Lady Constance listened, nodding from time to time, and sometimes interposing a questions. Fascinated she watched the lovely young nudity strive as best it could to suffer its punishment, a suffering often provoking protests and pleading. But they only resulted only in admonitions to speed the story. Or a promise of other punishments if the girl in the saddle did not accept her travail with better grace. Jill tumbled out her narrative with painful speed. She, too, asked questions.
"We found out about that police thing from Fingal," Constance explained. "We might never have found you if it weren't for an extraordinary picture in one of the galleries. Pure genius but from an artist quite unknown. It was a picture of a whipped nude David Reed recognized as you. It then took all Tom's influence to discover who had you prisoner. Even then it wasn't that easy because this Hugo Severin fellow has money and influence of his own. That auction affair came as a real blessing. Gosh, I wished I'd been there to see you on the block."
"But all that money! It was an enormous sum." Jill forgot the pain in the contemplation of her cost.
"It sure was, sweetheart. You're worth every penny, of course, but I'll admit it jolted all of us. And when David Reed said he would buy you even if it meant being broke forever, old Tom came to the rescue, we all got onto the project of getting you back."
"I'm so terribly grateful. Can I get off now?"
"No, you can't. That little pussy of yours deserves a little discipline after what you've told me of your thirty nights of sin in bed with Hugo Severin. I'll make her ashamed of herself if she isn't already."
"Oh, Connie, I really am hurting."
"If I ask you nicely, darling, would you agree to stay the way you are for a little while? Say perhaps an hour?"
As always she was being pressured into accepting or even asking for punishment. Jill supposed she perhaps did deserve some sort of punishment for doing something wrong, and for failing to get back to her family and home when she had the chance. Primarily she adored Lady Constance so said, without enthusiasm, "All right, agreed. But only because I love you."
"That's a good girl. I would have punished you had you said otherwise. You probably guessed at that, you sly little fox. Now I want you to tell me more about that artist and his great, big cage full of girls. Do you think he'll let me have a look if I got in touch?"
"You'd probably find yourself in the cage along with the rest of them. Oh, Constance, don't go near the man."
"Oh, alright. But why didn't you marry him?"
"He didn't ask me."
"Then why didn't you marry David Reed? I'm real cross with you about that, darling. You had him by the short hairs when he found you tied and blindfolded the way you tell. A scene like that would have melted any male heart."
"But, Constance, it was me who was all tied up. I wasn't in any position to accept a proposal. And, anyway, I don't think David was in the mood. I think the loss of all that money cooled him off. He was very sweet but every night when we went to bed he tied my hands behind my back with very thin cord which hurt like crazy. I never complained because I knew he was trying to erase the vision of me being taken to Severin's bed very night for a month."
"And you got beautifully screwed?"
"Yes, I did. And with my arm hurting behind my back."
"Darling, it's a bit hard for me to understand. If I'd been David Reed, I would have married you for sure before bringing you back home. Are you sure you didn't do something to put him off? If I ever find out that's what you did, you'll be a sorry little girl. Is your pussy hurting terribly?"
"It's dying... Or maybe dead. Oh, Connie!"
"If it was dead it wouldn't be hurting, dear. Why did David bring you straight to me instead of using you for himself for a while?"
"He thinks I'm your property. He's very honest about such things."
"I suppose you are," Lady Constance reflected quietly. "I'm an idiot to try and marry you off. I adore you and can keep you prisoner forever. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes... " Jill found the word hard to utter.
"Well, don't sound so ashamed. I'm not the least bit ashamed of the things I do to you. You're a born slave and I'm not a bit sure you don't love every little bit of every punishment. I'm sure this guy Severin detected that quality in you. It's an honest to goodness gift."
Feeling she had milked her tortured maiden dry of incidents, Lady Constance remembered an errand and briskly excused herself. Jill was aghast. "You mean you're going to leave me like this all alone? Connie, please don't. I'll go crazy or start to scream." "That's easy to look after, dear. I should have thought of it in the first place. You look sweet in a gag. Let's try this one for size."
The painfully mounted girl eyed the contraption of steel and leather with distaste but dared not clench her teeth or complain. She opened wide for the wad of rubber, the metal clamp for her tongue, and then the neat, soft stricture of leather across her lips. Any sound she could now utter would be through her nose, her mouth was firmly closed. Her adored mistress then departed and she returned to her absorption with pain.
The little saddle she sat on was relentless, Jill could not move anything and she wondered why she had allowed Constance to tie her in this appalling way in the first place. But the little saddle had looked innocent and she was betrayed by curiosity and had walked into the painful trap which now was causing her considerable pain.
Jill moaned dismally. Prevented by her strictures from falling any direction, she was held fast, an exquisite nude equestrian.
Some people might get angry with Lady Constance but Jill could not. She was well aware of the imp of mischief in the older girl who owned her. Jill had to suppose there were elements of humor in this sad position, but she would not be laughing until release. She was positive Lady Constance had left her alone as part of the erotic play which could also be called a punishment. The pain continued and Jill longed most ardently for her mistress' return. When the door finally opened it was not Lady Constance but Sir Thomas Rintoule.
Sir Thomas viewed the horsed young woman without surprise. "I know Connie would have you somewhere around," he observed with a chuckle. "My goodness, that's an extraordinary contraption you're sitting on."
Jill had much to say but a gagged mouth compelled her to wild motions with her head as her only communication.
"Got you gagged, eh? That's damned silly in an empty room. Nice effect, though. I can understand why she does it."
Jill made distressful sounds and weaved her shoulders as best she could to demonstrate discontent. Sir Thomas took the hint. His voice was hearty. "Don't suppose it would do any harm to take that thing out of your mouth. It's damned silly to rob a girl of speech. You girls say the damndest things. If Connie couldn't talk, it would be my loss. Here, let me get at the buckle."
For the horsed girl, Sir Thomas was like a benevolent teddy bear. When he had mastered the straps, Jill flooded him in thanks, not only for giving her speech but for his massive share for her purchase at the auction. She owed him much and said so openly.
"Oh, that," he recalled in an absent minded fashion. "Wish I'd had time to be there. I'm sure you looked very charming."
"I was very naked and very frightened."
"You always seem to be naked, my dear. I suspect it's Connie's fault. I'll have to speak to her about it.
"I'm so terribly thankful for what you've done for me."
"Oh, that again. Well, don't harp on it, dear girl. I seem to have a great deal money, and spending a bit of it in a good cause is the easiest thing a man can do. You owe David a thanks, of course."
"Please take me off this awful thing? I'm hurting terribly."
St seemed taken back. His gaze roved from helpless toes to her long hair, pausing only briefly to observe what might be seen of a crushed female sex. "Well, now, that might be something else again. Might hurt a bit where you sit, but the rest of you makes a pretty picture. Are you sure it hurts?"
"I'm in agony."
Sir Thomas grunted and made a very slow circular inspection of his wife's possession. "I think you're over doing it a bit," he concluded. "I'm sure you're not exactly comfortable but I think agony stretches it a bit."
"All right, then, call it hurting. Please get me free."
"I can't do that, love. David and I have made a gift of you to my wife. And you know what wives are, a man has to keep them happy. I'm sure Constance will soon be back and let you loose herself. And that's the best solution all around. If I run into her on my way around the castle. I'll tell her you're still here.' Jill wanted to laugh or scream or beat her fists but she knew she would only embarrass a man who wished her well. Abjectly she said, "Thank you, Sir, but are you really going to leave me alone like this?"
"Much the wisest thing, dear girl," Sir Thomas said as he headed towards the door.
"Then please gag me again. Constance won't like it if she sees it laying on the floor."
"You're a champion and no mistake," Sir Thomas conceded. "Seems damned foolish but if you think it's best... " Once more Jill tried not to laugh as she found it necessary to instruct the nobleman on how her tongue must be clamped and her mouth wadded, and her lips sealed tight by the soft leather band. He bestowed a kiss upon a stressed cheek, a kiss which brushed away the first of Jill's tears. He hurried away while Jill, in hopelessness, allowed her eyes to fill with tears of desolation.
"Owning you is a real responsibility, darling," said Lady Constance after breakfast the following day. "I have a real urge to do things with you, or should I say to you. And for sure I don't want you ever bored."
"I'll never be bored here with you," Jill vowed truthfully. "I'm still hurting from yesterday... You know where!"
"Never harp on aches and pains, dear girl. You're being plaintive simply spurs me to fresh efforts. I'm trying to think of something you'll enjoy."
"Then lock me in the cage, Constance. I could use a day's rest."
"You mean you just handcuffed and naked behind the bars! Oh, darling, don't be silly!"
"What's silly about it?"
"You're a strong, healthy girl who ought to be all aquiver over what I'm going to do to you next. I mean, darling, there's a whole, fresh day stretching out ahead. How would you like David Reed to cane your bottom?"
"I wouldn't like it a bit. And, anyway, David wouldn't do it."
"He would if I asked him, dear."
Jill knew her owner spoke the truth. David would also enjoy the act, she knew. He would be polite but he would do it. She looked down at her handcuffed wrists, always seeing them as symbolic of her enslavement to this woman. The captive girl had no expectation of ever being free again and wondered what she would not do if Constance unlocked the bracelets and told her to go home.
"The more I think of it, the more I like the idea, darling," Lady Constance sparkled. "You can never tell about these things. Perhaps if he spends the day whipping you, it will get him realizing what a wonderful wife you would make."
"Constance, don't tease. I'm never sure whether you're .kidding or not." Jill rattled her handcuffs. "But, Constance, darling, I really don't want my bottom whipped. Please?"
"Come to the phone with me while I make the appointment. We could go to David's place this morning and he could cane you a bit before he and I go to lunch. Then he can cane you some more this afternoon, and we can be back for dinner with darling Tom."
Sounded so rational. Lady Constance had a gift for clothing the bizarre in normalcy. "I suppose you'll have me tied up so way or the other," Jill asked. "And leave me alone while the two of you have lunch. I think you're mean."
The phone call had the expected result. Within half an hour two young women, one clothed, the other innocently nude, her cuffed hands fastened down to the seat between her thighs, were driving through the Irish morning bend upon a mission which, to Lady Constance, was a pleasant diversion. Jill could have done without the mission.
Jill refused to be sulky and was guilty aware of heat behind her fastened hands as she thought of David Reed and the punishment he had agreed to inflict upon her skin. It seemed a most unlike enticement to the married state but, as Lady Constance had said, you can never tell about men. A man can be governed by an erection he could not suppress. The mistress and the maiden talked happily of other things.
In truth, there was a family atmosphere over David's greeting and the coffee waiting in the lounge. The three of them could well have spoken of simple things but Lady Constance was determined to extract her pound of flesh. She persuaded her host relentlessly with sly quires as to his physical sensations while planting a cane across the bottom of a girl. Jill realized this was a game the two had often played. The questions might be sly but David was skilled in evasion or outrageous flights of fancy. Knowing it was her own bottom which was to be the bottom line in this exchange, Jill sipped her coffee and eyed the strength in David's forearm.
"Shouldn't we be getting a start on fastening the sweet thing," Lady Constance said brightly. "I want you to use the darling for what's left of this morning and this afternoon. That gives you both plenty of time to enjoy each other. I'll stay, of course, because I have to take her to dinner or Tom will get snotty about what I've done with is little sweetheart. He really does have a soft spot for her, you know. Anyway, what I have envisioned is for you to fasten Jill anyway you like and cane her bottom at intervals throughout the day. Do it your way, David, what I'm thinking of is maybe one good, hard swish every ten minutes, or perhaps five of the best every half hour. Get the idea?"
Jill's detachment persisted through their journey down the stairs. The room was heavily stocked with what David referred to casually as "extras." After an awkward pause, their host inquired, "Jill, since you've got to put up with me for quite a few hours, how would you like to be fastened?"
"I don't want to be fastened at all, thank you."
"I'm thinking in terms of you hands above your head. Or that whipping bench over there, the one they used at Bridewell?" David suggested. "I'd like you to have your choice."
Jill shivered. "Not that awful thing over there, it gives me the creeps," she pointed at the bench.
"You'd find it a lot less tiring, dear, than having to stand up," Lady Constance suggested.
"I don't care, I don't want it. It frightens me. It's so... so...!" Jill was at a loss for words.
"Then I think that's where she ought to be, David," Lady Constance purred. It was a command.
Detachment slid away to be replaced by a trembling excitation as Jill's handcuffs were taken from her wrists and a male hand guided her to where she had no wish to go. Lady Constance found a stool and sat on it with another grand declaration that she would watch and not interfere.
The bench was like one short step, and the seat another. Passively Jill allowed her knees to be positioned on the lower level and then a guiding hand pushed her down on the hard, smooth surface above. A wooden yoke was thrust against the hollows of her knees to leave them in tight immobility. There were straps for her ankles and the effect of these restraints was to widen the cleft of her bottom more than she desired. Next a belt cinched down her waist to lower her waist and make her bottom stick up. Jill just about curled up inside as she felt her body forced into such a position. She could not move and her bottom was perfectly positioned for punishment. And, strangely, her arms were not fastened at all.
Jill tried not to think of it as devilish. It was too easy to imagine how terrible it could be and that frightened her. Her only hope was that she would be able to absorb one batch of strokes before the next came. Spreading them out like that might prolong the agony but make it bearable.
She looked back at a pair of smiling faces then buried her own in her hands to await the inevitable.
"Get on with it, David, don't keep the poor girl waiting." Lady Constance sounded impatient.
Somewhere, behind her back, a riding crop snickered through the air to cut squarely across both waiting rounds of tight skin. Thrusting with forearms, the hurt girl raised her head to exclaim, "It's too awful! I can't stand it. Please don't hit me like that again."
The man and the woman discussed the girlish appeal from the bench. "They always say that with the first stroke," Lady Constance explained. "It's the shock that does it. After the dear child gets a few more, she'll settle down. It would be nice if she didn't have to be gagged."
"I could go easier," David ventured.
"Don't be silly, David. You're being a typical male. IF I wasn't here, I do believe you'd unfasten the girl and take her to bed. Pull yourself together and get on with it."
The burn across Jill's bottom turned to fire and spread slowly. She lowered her head and waited for stroke number two.
"Four every thirty minutes should be ample," David judged after his cane buried itself once more on lovely skin. "The poor kid will be on that bench probably six hours, and that's forty-eight strokes." Grimly he added, "You'll be hot enough between your legs to make old Tom wonder what happened."
Jill heard David's remarks to Lady Constance and had to bite back a protest at the total number of painful strokes she was sentenced to. And six hours sounded like an eternity. But, strangely, she felt a fire growing within her lions, almost as if it were trying to match the flame on her bottom. Why did the prospect of many hours of agony excite her? Jill's wondering was cut off by the next fiery stroke. With the forth stroke she beat clenched fists against the wood.
"Nice effect leaving her hands free," Lady Constance breathed. "I wouldn't have thought of it myself. Are you sure she can't get loose?"
"Quite sure. There isn't a single fastening she can reach. Constance, I feel sorry for the poor girl. Couldn't we take her to lunch with us?"
Miss Jill Prospect did not go to lunch. She got only a drink of water. For once she was not sorry to be left alone. Lady Constance had thoughtfully tightened her strictures and put the handcuffs back upon her wrists. But these things mattered little when measured against the shame the punished girl discovered in this business of being beaten by a man she had come to like, a man who offered hope of an eventual end to her strange enslavement. She could not agree with her mistress that the manner of her present binding and its obscene exposure of her private parts could possibly arouse David Reed to thoughts of matrimony. It was ridiculous. Quite possibly he felt only disgust at the sight of scored skin. No doubt girl had been raped from the rear in this horrible contraption on which she lay but she doubted David was the type to do such an humiliating act to her. Still, the very thought make the heat in her loins flare...
When master and mistress returned after lunch they discussed the captive girl as though she were a piece of furniture. After an examination of cropped curves, the mistress could contain herself no longer. "David, I simply must have a go at the sweet thing. Do you mind?"
"Go ahead, she belongs to you."
"Yes, but we're imposing on your hospitality. I know you're enjoying the dear girl and don't want to rob you of your pleasure."
It was the usual thrust and parry. Jill had guessed its outcome from the start. David's hand had been heavy in the morning, no doubt because of Lady Constance's presence. Lady Constance picked up the crop and began her task with delight. The strokes hurt but were made easier by the warmth between the two women. And the fact that they weren't quite as hard as David's much stronger arm had delivered before lunch.
Probably just to be different, or perhaps because she really enjoyed seeing Jill gagged, Lady Constance insisted that a leather ball be shoved inside her mouth and strapped tightly in place. In addition, she requested that Jill's cuffs be taken off and her arms be tied down on each side of the bench. Jill accepted this impositions without complaint. What did it matter? The crop was going to hurt about the same either way.
Connie's use of the crop had always seemed kind but managed to hurt a great deal just the same. But to please this woman she adored, Jill fought her bonds with all her strength after each blow and tried to scream through her gag. The girl rested quietly between the visits of the Irish man and American woman who, as they cropped her bottom, discussed politics and local affairs as though the naked girl on the bench did not exist. Jill hoped they did it with a purpose and not from true indifference to her plight. She looked back over her shoulder as best she could and strangely beheld in the eyes of both the reassurance of absorption with her flesh.
"She's beautifully colored," Lady Constance observed after the forty- eighth stroke as David took off buckles to free a naked girl.
Jill thanked her rescuer even as her bottom burned. She stood uncertainly to explore a punished bottom with cautious fingertips.
"We won't let you see yourself," Lady Constance assured. "It would scare you to death. You've got the most wonderful bottom in the world. Give me your hands."
handcuffs clicked but Jill paid little attention to a comfortable confinement. Glowing with pleasure, her ladyship suggested, "Why don't you come home with us, David? Come to dinner. You'll see our little girl here fully clothed for a change. And you can speculate on her sensations as she sits down to eat."
They used one car. David sat in the rear seat to make it possible for a well-whipped girl to lay across his lap in a position Constance carefully contrived to make maiden loins cross male knees and thus expose the day's endeavors in all their glory. Jill did not demur. If David wanted to look at her cropped bottom all the way home, he was welcome to. She hoped he would feel properly ashamed at so much puffed up and bruised flesh. But she was upon a male lap and male fingertips traced her wounds in gentle exploration to make her gasp and gasp again at an intensity of sensations which drove her twice to orgasm before their reaching Castle Rintoule. She was ashamed and hoped that Connie, in the driver's seat, was not aware of her sexuality.
Upon arrival Jill as rushed off to a hot bath, followed by clothing to cover her nudity from Sir Thomas's sight. As the two of them went to dinner, Jill felt only happiness.
Dinner at the castle might be formal but the discussion was without inhibition. Jill was blushingly aware of David and Constance's close watching to detect whatever evidence the pain of her cropped bottom on which she sat might reveal. She saw no reason to be heroic so flinched and winced when ever her wounded flesh hurt. It was enough to catch Sir Thomas's eye.
"I'll bet you two have been up to something," He said, good humouredly. "If I had to make a guess, I'd say you whipped Jill's bottom. Am I right?"
"You've got a shrewd eye, Tom," David said with a trace of embarrassment.
"Don't tell me you whipped the poor girl all by yourself," Sir Thomas said. Turning to his wife, "Are you sure you didn't have a hand in the game?"
"Tom, don't be stuffy. We whipped Jill's bottom and that's an end to it." She shot a commanding glance at her slave. "You're happy, aren't you, darling?"
"Yes, I'm so happy it's all over."
"You weren't suppose to say that last part, but never mind." Lady Constance gave her husband her full attention. "The girl's happy, you can see she is. Sure, she's got a sore rump but she's not the first girl to have one of those. Please, Tom, stop embarrassing the poor child."
The child knew herself blushing furiously. She also longed to rise and ease that portion of herself on which she sat. She looked at Sir Thomas gratefully. "Thank you for caring about me. Sir. But don't worry. I'm all right. I simply gave Lady Constance and David a great deal of pleasure." Sir Thomas pondered this one a long time before confiding, "These fun and games are a mystery to me. I'm glad they keep someone happy." He glared at Jill. "Are you positive you don't want to go home?"
"I want to stay with Constance, please let me."
The Irish nobleman turned his full attention to his American wife. "Are you sure, Connie, this poor girl isn't going to get herself pregnant with all these men who, if they aren't busy kidnapping her, are selling her on an auction block?"
"I'm all right, really I am," Jill interjected.
"And what about you, Connie, are you all right?" His lordship gave his wife a searching glance. "It's high time you gave me an heir, you know." Lady Constance had the grace to blush. "I'll give you a son and heir in due time, Tom. But not right now. Really, darling, you do thing of the damndest things at dinner."
That night Jill was locked inside the cage.
The prisoner was thankful for a rest. Her time with Severin, her rescue by David Reed, and now being once more the slave of Lady Constance, had all exacted their toll. Her terribly cropped bottom was by no means the least of these travails. Jill slept soundly through the night and part of the next day. The Rintoules were absent on business and Jill was tended only by Annabell, delighted with the multi-color bottom she insisted her owner should back against the bars for inspection. "You really are lucky," she said. "They never crop my arse like they done yours. Someone loves you, that's for sure."
Jill took the youthful summation with good will, wondering if perhaps it did not hide wisdom. She knew herself shockingly stripped. But if everyone else thought the marks of crop and cane a work of art, perhaps she was foolish to disagree. She was thankful for the cage for in it she could lay on the big cushion and give her punished part a chance to heal.
In the afternoon, Hugo Severin came to call.
It was the shock of shocks. Jill stared through the bars at the man who had owned her so recently. It was Severin who spoke.
"Hello, love. That's a lot smaller cage than I gave you." He laughed with real mirth. "Seems like the Rintoules are out but a bit of paper currency got me in where we can visit. Are you happy?"
Jill was touched by his concern but also curious. "How did you get here and why did you come?" she demanded.
"You can figure out how I came," Severin said with a chuckle. "But the reason was simple. I found myself wishing I hadn't put you on that auction block. I've been wanting you back." His eyes almost burnt her skin. "How would you feel about me persuading the Rintoules to take back their money and give me you?"
A girl so desired must inevitably feel some affection for the one who treasures her. But Jill had no hesitation in assuring, "They wouldn't do it, Master. Money means little to them, they have so much. They'll never let me go. And most certainly I'll not escape." She jingled her handcuffs. "Look at me now, I can't get out of this cage. And I don't suppose you can break down the door."
Severin shrugged. "Difficulties are made to over come. If I were you, I wouldn't count on your being here forever. If I want you, I'll get you."
"Please don't. It's not that I didn't become fond of you while I was there, I become fond of the girls in your big cage and the whole scene. But this is where I first knew slavery and I belong to Lady Constance in more ways than one."
The manner of Severin's listening made Jill feel foolish, as though she had made an ineffectual speech and no one clapped. What her former master now said made sense, "I'm going to be rude and invite myself to dinner, love. I understand the Rintoules are a good natured pair and it shouldn't be difficult. I'll assess the situation and make my bid." With a change of tone, he asked, "I'm curious about you. Right now you seem so obedient and confirmed to a lifetime of enslavement. I can honestly believe you're happy. Is that it? What about your family?"
"I don't know. Please don't ask." The handcuffed nudity stepped back from the bars as from a distasteful subject. "So far as going home... Can't you see how impossible that is? I'd want to come back to Constance, and can't you see how irrational that is? What would I tell my family? They'd think me insane."
"I'd give you a week's vacation every month, sweetheart."
It had to be a bribe. But even of that, Jill could not be sure. Once the owner has a girl safely caged, promises need not be kept. A girl in a cage does not get to go back home!
But now, through the bars, the handcuffed girl had a feeling of deep sincerity. Was Hugo Severin really in love with her? She could not be sure.
The Rintoules did Ireland proud. When Constance freed her slavegirl to get dressed, she said frankly, "That man's a charmer. He's too damned good to be true. Do you think he's in love with you?"
The Rintoule hospitality was lavishly repaid. Hugo Severin turned on all his charm and studiously avoided the subject of slavegirls, acting as though Jill was a guest of the family without involvement. It was not until they were sipping brandy after dinner that he offered a sum so huge as to frighten the girl he wished to repossess. The offer was politely declined. And, in spite of this, Hugo Severin went his way in a farewell of mutual good will.
"Remarkable fellow, that," Sir Thomas mused thoughtfully as they returned to the lounge. "I don't have a feeling I know the guy. There's more to him than we can see."
"Well, anyway, we sent him away happy." Lady Constance eyed her slavegirl. "Aren't you proud to be worth so much money?"
"It's all crazy," replied Jill.
"We needn't feel too sorry for him," said Lady Constance. "He can easily comfort himself with those other girls in his big cage."
"He won't. All of them are for sale. He's used them and is tired of them," said Jill. "I have a feeling he was here with a mission. We shouldn't dismiss him lightly."
Lady Constance laughed away the threat. "If the man is that remarkable, darling, I'd better load you with every chain in the place and doubly lock you in the deepest dungeon." Her eyes sparkled. "Maybe that's what I should do."
Jill sniffed and wished she had not raised the subject. Sir Thomas dismissed the affair to his own satisfaction. "We can't possibly keep the poor gal in that condition all her life. Not because of some bloke who paints pictures. I think we're overrating the fellow."
Jill found herself victim to a strange unease. But she was conscious Severin had kept her in his cage and taken her to his bed each night for a whole month. Surely she had to be better aware of what he was or of the hidden depth of his complexity than those she sat with now. Her voice was stumbling and apologetic. "This has to be crazy but has it occurred to you that Severin's course got changed half way through dinner? He stopped looking at me and started to look at you, Constance. Maybe it's you who should be careful."
Constance laughed the whole idea to scorn. "You mean, darling, that Tom should chain me in a dungeon every night? Oh, come off it, he'd never had the nerve to do such a thing. And what can he possibly see in me when he can look at you." She shot her slavegirl a shrewd glance. "Darling, I think you're doing a bit of leg pulling."
"No, really, I'm not. Remember all that time he possessed me. I got so I could pick up his vibes. Those vibes started giving me a message half way through dinner."
"Nonsense!"
"It's not nonsense," Jill insisted. "You're a very beautiful woman. That man has the resources to invade this castle with a small army and carry you off to where no one would ever find you." She looked from one to the other in a realization that perhaps she had gone too far. "I'm terribly sorry."
"If you bottom hadn't been cropped already, I'd cane it now," Lady Constance admonished. "A caned backside is the swiftest cure for what's ailing you." She laughed delightedly. "You can spend tonight in the cage. Just so you'll be safe, I'll padlock the heaviest chain I can find around your pretty little tummy and anchor it to the floor. You do give me the nicest ideas."
Sir Thomas coughed in disapproval but said no word.
The following day, while shopping in the village, Lady Constance Rintoule disappeared.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - CAPTIVE OF THE CASTLE
Even in her first return to conscious Lady Constance knew something was terribly wrong. When she opened her eyes and looked around, she knew it was not just something being wrong, everything was wrong. Even in her bemused state after the drug, she guessed her fate. Groggily she sat erect to survey a pleasant scene of trees and grass and shrugs. But she was immediately conscious of a weight upon her neck. Fearful fingers discovered an iron collar, a padlock, and a chain.
There was no sign of life, but off to one side she could discern, through the foliage, a small stone hut that might have been a storage place for tools. Distressfully, she managed to stand erect to the tune of a chattering chain which rose up to a bough above her head to leave her little freedom. She explored that freedom but it consisted of only a few steps in any direction. Instinctively she tidied her clothes and did what she could for her hair. Then she sat back down on the grass.
Ruling out chance, she knew she had been kidnapped by Hugo Severin and, no doubt, would soon discover why. The principle amusement of her life had been the restraint and punishment of pretty girls. Constance loved a good looking young woman stripped naked and handcuffed. It was almost an artist pleasure she derived from so conditioning a girl. She had never apologized to anyone for this, she did not do so now. But she became painfully conscious that no one had every done the same to her. The collar and chain were a new experience for which she could feel only shame.
From these reflections her mind drifted to what she had always laughingly referred to as the "D" in "B and D" She had caned and cropped a great many bottoms while her own remained virgin. But now suppose... !
It was not a long time before a man and a woman appeared, carrying food and drink and a bucket of warm water. Constance had expected Severin but breakfast was served by a man and girl she did not know. She asked questions as she ate, to which they only smiled and the woman held a finger to her lips. Constance ate the food, drank the coffee, washed her face and hands in the warm water, and then allowed the woman to demonstrate her skill upon her hair. A small mirror left the chained woman in a state of surprised relief.
Feeling better, she was ready to face Hugo Severin when he arrived. He did so with excellent timing. His voice betrayed his pleasure. "Nice to see you again, Lady Constance. You and your husband were very kind to me."
They were two people of the world and knew better than most what was happening. Lady Constance advanced her point of view, "Jill told me you'd do this and I didn't believe her. You and I both know the things girls exclaim at times like this. I'll dispense with them. The sooner you send me back to Ireland, the better."
Severin poured himself the last cup of coffee. "In that case, you should understand that you may never see Ireland again."
"My husband will destroy you."
Severin shrugged. "He will try but he will fail. Early this morning the police arrived at my house with a search warrant. I gave them coffee. It was the only reward they found."
They were protagonists, probing each other's strengths. "He can make your life a misery with such incidents," Constance said. "Send me home. Take me to telephone and we'll put this to an end."
Severin was not affected by that. His charm adjusted to the mood as he smiled. "I've brought a bag with me. Would you like to see its contents?"
"Don't bother, I expect I know."
The artist nodded. "It is a pleasure to deal with a knowledgeable person. Please remove your clothes."
"You have to be kidding. Take this thing off my neck."
"The thing on your neck has a purpose. Lady Constance. You will not run away. But on the other hand you can strip naked. Please do so."
While Constance thought of all the rest, it had not entered her mind that she might be made as naked as she had made Jill Prospect. She realized that Hugo Severin was sincere in his demand. He wanted her nude and her only weapon of defense was mental agility. She tried. "If you had wanted Jill back this bad, why the devil didn't you say so the other day when you were with us? I'm sure the dear child would consent to an exchange but it's something I wouldn't push on her. You've acted totally without judgement."
"It is not Jill Prospect I now desire."
Inwardly Constance cursed her own stupidity in failing to listen to Jill. If, because of some quaint male feeling, this man now wanted her, she knew herself in trouble. "What the devil would you want me for?" she asked with acerbity. "I understand you've got a cage full of well-trained twats."
"My interest in your twat is secondary. I'll use you, never fear. But you've been kidnapped because I wish to paint your picture."
Lady Constance was frightened. She was in a spot and knew it. Throughout this thrust and parry her fingers had been busy with the collar, padlock and chain, receiving only a message of hopelessness and helplessness. The collar and chain made it most plausible to undress. She was in the hands of a master.
"I am waiting." Severin's tone reflected bored impatience.
"Drop dead."
Without dramatics, Hugo Severin emptied the contents of his bag onto the grass. A springy, old time buggy whip straightened out to its full length. He picked it up hopefully while Lady Constance backed away. The two servants stood by, watching. The intent was obvious, as was his captive's exclamation. "You surely don't think you're going to use that thing on me!"
"You know I do."
'Tom will kill you. So would David Reed. So would a hundred others." She was panting. "Look, it's not too late to be sensible." Constance had back as far away from him as her chain allowed. She clasp it with two hands to ease its weight, standing and glaring, while Severin casually explained.
"You wear a summer frock. Your legs are bare. I will flick them with this whip until you remove your clothes. It will hurt."
For the rest of her life, Lady Constance strove to forget what happened them. The first snap of the whip was instant and scolded her calf with fire. She hoped sideways and forget to be a lady. "Don't do that, you asshole! Why can't you grow up."
Severin had no need to answer. Once again there was the wicked flick of the lash and once more Lady Constance strained at her chain and tried to circle way from the snapping tip of leather. Both legs bore small red marks.
Her demand of, "Don't you have decency? No instincts of a gentleman?" went unheeded. It was cat and mouse. The servants were enthralled. Severin was undoubtedly living intensely as his eyes followed the flash of bare legs, measuring their range. He never missed and while no single cut was either too agonizing or the least bit lethal, the pain began to build until Constance was gasping in pain and cursing her tormentor without shame. She tried to stand still and thus avoid some loss of pride but it was not long before, with a cry of distress, she once more sought the evasion of motion. Whichever way she went the whip followed.
The results were inevitable. Constance condemned herself for not surrendering at the beginning. "All right. I'll do it," she said desperately. "But send those servants away, I don't want them watching."
"I want them to watch. It will add to a noblewoman's shame."
It was like an old-time melodrama. In a mixture of pain and anger, she demanded, "For Pete's sake, stop! I can't do what you want with that whip snapping at me."
"You can and you will, dear. It will snap at you until you are completely naked. But, please take all the time you wish."
Lady Constance threw to the grass the few expensive bits of clothing she had. The whip snickered and bit throughout, defeating her intention to make a stand at panties and bra. The wicked thong now reached her thigh and those last two garments quickly joined the rest. Lady Constance stood there as naked as she could be, glaring in fierce anger at the man with the whip. And at his servants with bitter shame. The whipping had stopped and Lady Constance stepped forward to allow the chain to hang between her breasts.
"All right, so you're looking at me naked," she said tersely. "What happens now?"
"Look at your legs."
She did so and gasped. The pain had been brutal, why else would she now stand naked in the eyes of men. But Constance was horrified at the many discolorations and actual cuts in her skin. For the first time in her life, a girl called Constance had been whipped.
Miserably, Severin's latest acquisition watched servants gather the discarded clothes and shoes and join the man who was already turning to leave. Severin let them go, they had served their purpose, but he was by no means finished with his new girl.
"I expect Jill told you about my 'Welcome'." His voice was silk.
"If you do that to me, you'll either die or rot in jail." Constance was truly frightened. Even thought rescue might come, it would not come in time.
Severin moved on to his next cruelty. She could not understand this man. He had everything going for him. And, if in private life, he wanted to whip girls, and paint them, that was okay. But she knew enough of enslavement to understand how great was his enjoyment in the possession of a woman like herself, to watch her become humble beneath his whip, and to using her body as he wished. Constance hated what she though of in her mind as giving away her nakedness. Very few had ever seen her naked. And this man was gazing at her breasts and pubic hair with evident enjoyment. Everything was hopeless.
"Paint me if you wish. I'll be your model," she offered. "But there is no need to whip me first. The whip won't teach me anything."
"It will teach you humility."
She had no answer and stood silent.
"It will teach you obedience."
Lady Constance said no word.
"In any case, it is not you a paint but the marks I place upon your skin. They inspire my brush, not you."
Severin would always have an answer to everything. Constance knew she could not win. But what she had been told of Severin's "Welcome" was causing her to shiver uncontrollably. The voice she heard came as from afar. "Please don't whip me. Please, I beg of you."
"Well, well, so you bend the knee, dear lady." Severin was obviously pleased, enjoying what amounted to surrender. "To be humble before the event is an achievement."
"It's what you want. I offer it to you. Please don't whip me." Constance was still defiant. "If you want me to call you master, I will do that. If you want me to kiss you feet, I will do that, too. I am trying to show you the end result without you whipping me. Can you understand?"
The sweet reason of intelligence. Hugo sighed as though deeply affected. "It is something you had best forget, Lady Constance Rintoule. You no longer have authority. Your husband and David Reed are lost to you, a pair of bumbling idiots who are searching for something they cannot find. I am introducing you to your new life in the most effective way I know. Hence, my 'Welcome.' We may as well get on with it."
There is always that point where defeat is acknowledged. Her legs scolded, Constance knew she faced the main event, and once more heard the distant voice. "Are you going to tie me someway? I can't possibly stand still for it."
"You wish to be tied?"
"Yes, I think I do. You've left me no doubt about it happening so all I can do now is try not to scream. Please tie me so I won't disgrace myself any more than I have to."
Severin unlocked the chain from the collar, allowing the links to fall with the sound of doom. "I have the feeling I'm being manipulated," he said without concern. "You're a clever woman as well as a beautiful girl. But no matter how you use your witchery, I'm going to mark you skin. I don't wish to chase you around and around, so I'll use a few bits of rope to keep you in one place."
"Not the concrete square and the ring bolt the way you treated Jill?"
"Give me credit for a bit of originality, sweetheart."
"I've not your sweetheart, don't call me that. How would a tree serve your majesty?"
"Probably very well."
"Why the hell don't you get on with it. I know I'm the mouse and you're the cat but it's positively ghoulish the way you're licking your chops about reducing me to a nothing. One of your poor, sad slaves."
"They're not sad."
"Is that my new status? Am I a slave?"
"You will be when you've been whipped. My dear Constance, you've absolutely no idea of the way in which the whip will make you over. You'll be a new girl with a whole new set of values." Severin was intensely earnest. "Please believe what I'm telling you."
The heart of Lady Constance Rintoule was thudding painfully as her master led her to the tree. Pathetically she watched him rope her wrists, one on each side of the sapling so she was forced to stand with arms outspread, unable to step forward or back. She knew herself cruelly exposed. When the first blow of the whip cut across her shoulders to be followed by a riding crop burning her bottom, she used the last of her courage. "Is that the best you can do?" she inquired casually. "You are not even a man."
After that Lady Constance screamed steadily.
* * *
The small stone edifice Constance had seen in the trees was not only a hut for tools. It was divided by iron bars and an iron barred door to provide a cage on one side and storage on the other. It was explained to the wounded woman that she would not be honored by imprisonment in the big house so long as the hue and cry of those searching for her was in the air. As if handcuffs had not been enough, a metal belt had been locked about her narrow waist, the chain from which had been locked to a ring in the stone wall. Thus humiliated, Constance had spent the night flat upon the hard wooden bench. The belt and chain made a mockery of escape.
It was Severin who carried in the tray. He casually left the door open since his captive was snubbed short of it by the chain. From the other room he brought a chair on which he sat to watch the naked woman eat her breakfast. "I'll be painting you today," he said. "How do you feel?"
"I don't know how I feel but I expected to be a model for your brush." Constance sounded tired. "I take it my wounds are now ready for painting?"
"When we have finished the last of the coffee, I intend to place you on your back on that bench and inflict upon you what they used to call 'A fate worse than death'." He sipped a cup of coffee. "Is that the way you see it?"
"No, I expect I'll survive."
"You don't intend to complain?"
"Why should I? It will just add to your enjoyment. You can damned well elevate your cock by thinking about how my back and bottom hurt. I'm sorry but I can't face a battle."
"Any other comments?"
"Just get it over with. Go ahead and fuck me. That's the word nongentlemen use, isn't it?"
She was beautiful in defeat. Severin's fire flared hot within his loins but his admiration for this woman who was now his prisoner became more intense. Whipping Constance had been wise and had the desired effect. He would undoubtedly whip her again but not now.
When they had finished the coffee, his prisoner stretched her whipped flesh upon the wooden bench, opened wide her legs, and said, wearily, "There's not much more I can do. Help yourself."
After the enforced intercourse, neither party spoke. Constance frankly did not care either way whether he had found her enjoyable or simply an unresponsive bore.
Severin used the key to release the heavy belt and chain, bring forth a thank you from the naked woman. Together they went out into the sunlight.
Shortly Severin replaced her handcuffs with soft leather wristlets, each with its own steel ring. Constance guessed his purpose and said, with a touch of her old temper, "It's not practical to suspend me for the time you need for a painting. Please don't, there's no need to injure me."
"This is not a punishment, Constance. Pain in incidental."
"Pain is pain. I wouldn't have supposed you would want to give me more after yesterday."
"I cheat a little now and then. You'll see."
Severin had chosen two narrow trunks near each other. From each a rope ending in a hook dangled incitingly. Constance was quivering but curious, and took her place obediently between the tree and raised her arms to facilitate the engagement of hook and ring. It was delightfully simple. She stood naked with arms raised to either side but without pain. While Severin searched for effect, she asked without sarcasm, "Is this all?"
The artist did not speak but busied himself with captive ankles, roping each and drawing them apart as far as the twin trunks allowed. Robbed of height there was now tension on the raised arms and Constance was breathing heavily in apprehension.
"That's as far as I need go with the stretch," Severin said cheerfully. "I want you able to look back over your shoulder from time to time. The trouble with painting a whipped girl is it's her back that gets it." He laughed. "Be a damned sight more sensible to whip your front."
"Please, I'm frightened enough. Give me a break while you do your thing."
"You don't hurt?"
"I suppose not. But I will if you keep me like this long enough. I wish I could throw hysterics or do the things expected of a girl at times like these."
He made no answered. Lady Constance saw he had already started work. There was an easel and canvass and other things ready for him. She sighed and know that perhaps she would never escape this imprisonment she found so painful.
The hook and ring arrangement made it easy to turn the model around as desired. Lady Constance wondered if, had she been a sixteen year old girl, she would have made a run for it in those brief moments when she was free of restraint. But the trees soon possessed her once again and the artist returned to his easel and his brush.
Constance hung against her wrists in a listless abandonment to her captivity.
Constance had no idea where she was held but the place was civilized for the manservant to arrive with coffee half way through the morning. Her arms were lowered, she was handcuffed, and for half an hour, she and her companion enjoyed a break. For the naked girl hope slowly re- emerged.
As Constance sipped from a cup held by closed hands, she reflected on the changes occurring in herself. She refused to hate Severin, his charm was still there and she had been allowed to see the genius of his skill. It had been very impressive. She was there upon his canvass with all her wounds. It was the first time she saw what the leather had done to her skin. It was frightening but had a beauty all its own.
"You're a beautiful woman," Hugo told her. "As a model you're a treasure. You maturity comes through as I knew it would. I'll be painting you often. You'll have to put up with a few ideas I have besides the whip."
Constance found herself laughing. "Since I can't stop you, I suppose you ought to make the most of me. These modeling sessions will always be painful?"
"It depends on the model. For instance, I'm thinking of one of you in the stocks. You know what that is, don't you? One with your feet spread out and clamped in a yoke of wood. Some girls hate it and some simply go to sleep."
"Sounds a bore."
"Not really. You see, we can talk while I work."
"When are you going to put me in with all those other girls in the big cage Jill told me about?"
"When the heat's off and those ridiculous Irishmen withdraw surveillance." He chuckled. "Wouldn't it amuse them to see us now?"
"If my husband every catches up with you, you're a dead man. Look, I don't hate you." Constance became earnest. "I don't know why I don't hate you but I can't. You are foolish in this business of kidnapping me, and I've told you that. Why don't you paint my picture to your heart's content and then send me home. I promise I'll wear clothes and prevent Tom from seeing what you've done to my back... Pretty please?"
"Like I said, you're remarkable. Not a trace of hysterics or reproach. You're a damned good sport."
Constance was feeling a return of both confidence and humor. "Next time you fuck me, I'll try and enjoy it."
"I loath four letter words. Must you use that one?"
"It's the only one I know that doesn't sound like a doctor consoling a patient."
"Well, I suppose a rose by any other name... " Hugo stopped short in confusion.
The handcuffed girl frankly laughed at Hugo's gaffe. "You missed the best part," she chided. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Considering what you were talking about, that's frighteningly vulgar."
Hugo shared her laugher but added, darkly, "I'm not a bit sure I whipped you enough yesterday. You're still pretty much the same woman I kidnapped."
"If you don't want laughter, you might as well buy yourself a marble statue. And, for Pete's sake, can't you stop talking about whipping me? You ought to watch it, you've got an obsession. I cane an occasional bottom myself but you go overboard." Lady Constance was suddenly the school teacher admonishing a small boy.
"Okay, I'll watch it. It's probably a case of power corrupts. I'm really a very lucky man."
"You sure are. With eight girls in your cage and now me, you own eighteen breasts, nine bottoms, and nine pussies. I hope Tom and David Reed never get a look at them all, they might get ideas." Lady Constance sniffed. "Please put me in your cage. I want to meet all those girls."
The end of coffee brought chance. "This one's simple," he told her. "You're cuffed hands up to the tree above your head so you can turn and look at me or give me your back. Here, let me rope your cuffs."
It was indeed delightfully simple. But the bark of the tree against which she must stand was an unkind surface for her breasts. Constance thrust her nipples hard into the surface and decided to move as little as possible.
After five minutes, both she and Severin were startled by an unexpected female voice.
"I was told I'd find you here," said Miss Jill Prospect. "This all looks terribly familiar."
After the initial shock, Constance forgot bare, wounded flesh and swung around against her raised hands to look at her formal slavegirl in dismay.
"Run for your life, Jill," she cried. "You're not safe here. You shouldn't have come."
Jill flew to the tree, clasp her mistress in her arms, kissed her hungrily, and then reached up to the rope which held the handcuffed wrists. The two girl, one nude and handcuffed, the other fully clothed, turned to brave the male. "You may as well unlock her handcuffs," Jill said confidently. "She won't be needing them any more."
Hugo Severin carefully put down his brush to step toward the two girls who had been his prisoners. He paused, hands in pockets, to ask, sardonically, "I suppose there's an explanation?"
"Sure there is and it's very simple." Jill was loving her command of the situation. "Sir Thomas knew where his wife is from the beginning. And he knows all about this place which you think is a refuge well hidden. He and David Reed were discussing ways and means of having a small army descend on her to take Connie back but they got to thinking about international problems so I simplified the whole thing by volunteering to take her place." She smiled brightly as though having solved all problems. "All you have to do, Hugo, is send Lady Constance home and keep me. Don't you remember I was the one you were after in the first place? May I have the key to her cuffs?"
Severin had not lost composure. "You must think I'm crazy, Jill, to believe that line of bull. Since you're here, I might as well keep you both. Take off your clothes."
"I will after Connie's safely away."
"That isn't going to happen. That pair of Irishmen are right about international problems. And the local police won't do a thing, they're my boys, bought and paid for." He surveyed Jill. "It's sweet of you to want to come back." He grinned at her. "But since you're both here, I see no reason to let either of you go."
Jill's voice lost some of its assurance. "Look, Master," she said earnestly, "don't loose everything by being greedy. If you don't return his wife. Sir Thomas will get you one way or another." Her voice quivered, betraying hurt. "I really thought I would get a heroine's welcome and you'd be pleased to see me. I thought you'd jump at the chance to have me again. Don't you love me anymore?"
The man's voice was still gentle. "Why don't you run on back to Ireland and tell his lordship he'll get his wife back when I've painted her a few more times." He chuckled. "I should probably keep her long enough for her welcome to fade. It's as beautiful now as yours was long ago. By the way, I suppose you realize you're making yourself eligible for a second 'Welcome'?"
"Not if you keep Constance."
"Don't I have a say?" Constance cut in. "Look, darling, do as the man says. Go back and give Tom the message and I'll endure being painted for a few weeks. It's a nice, easy way out."
"Your husband won't go for it, I know it won't. My way is a nice, easy way out, too, darling. If only Hugo will go for it."
Hugo had been thinking, enjoying the exchange. "Are you sure those two Irish champions of women aren't somewhere around? Watching us? You can't tell me you came alone."
"Why not? I'm an adult and I've been here before. Or have you forgotten?"
"I asked about your two heroes. Where are they?"
"They're safe at Castle Rintoule, sitting by the telephone. If Constance isn't back there tomorrow, they've got a couple of army helicopters and you'll find yourself invaded by Irish commandos. Not the real ones, but far worse. Every hear of a man named Fingal?"
Severin looked ruefully at the still handcuffed Lady Constance. "You begin to seem more trouble than you're worth, sweetheart," he admitted without his customary smile. "Damn it, I don't want to let you go. But I can't allow an army to invade my place. The authorities wouldn't like it."
"Well, I can tell you Tom wouldn't like this."
"Piss on your Tom. He's screwing me up."
"I'm glad you're seeing thing the right way." Lady Constance grinned at the now not so cocky man. "Now let me and Jill go home."
"You expect me to be satisfied with nothing?"
"You've got eight lovely girls in a cage. What more do you want?"
"You two have managed to get under my skin. It hasn't happened before." He turned to Jill. "Don't tell me that you really want to stay here when you know there's another 'Welcome' waiting when I get your clothes off."
"If I wasn't serious, I wouldn't be here. I don't see why I have to have another welcome, that last one hasn't faded yet. But I know what it means to you so I won't complain. You'll have to put up with my screams. You'll enjoy them."
Severin was not insensitive. He was picking up from his former slavegirl vibrations which any male ego would enjoy. In his heart he knew he had gone to Ireland to strive to own her once again. And been diverted only by his own errant fancy. To now own both these beauties was a powerful thought. They were in his power. Jill could easily be stripped and chained. But it appeared there was a price to pay and the price was high. He was touched as Jill once more pleaded her case.
"You'll never get a girl as easily as you'll get me. And once you've got me, you can do with me whatever you please. There's only one thing I'm going to ask. Don't auction me off again. I hated that."
Severin was remembering the thirty nights and his regret after selling her. Her large breasts were pushing against the soft summer dress, revealing a lack of bra. It was doing things to his mind.
"Okay, sweetheart, it's a deal. Get your clothes off."
"Not until I've seen Constance on the plane."
Severin became animated. "I've got a compromise," he said in a tone of command. "I'll tie Constance back up and finish my paintings. Two or three hours will be enough. In the meantime. Jill, there's a phone in that little stone building. Get hold of holy Thomas, don't tell him what we're doing but promise his lady love will be back with him tomorrow. Tell him I've accepted you in exchange. There, is everyone happy?"
"I'm not," said Lady Constance. "I refuse to go unless Jill goes, too. I don't mind your two or three hours to finish painting me. But after it's done, you'd better give me clothes and rush us to the airport."
It was swiftly done. The naked wife of Sir Thomas Rintoule was once again tied with hands above her head so she could turn either way. When Hugo was once more dealing with his brush. Jill managed to whisper to her helpless mistress, "Stop worrying, darling. There's a helicopter waiting just a few miles from here. When I phone they'll get the message. Try and put up with his majesty's fancies. My goodness, Connie, your back is perfect."
Two girls and a man, each intent with a purpose of their own. Severin was finding an unexpected contentment in his work and in the presence of the girl still dressed but who wore little. Sometimes Jill returned to the tree and its lovely prisoner to whisper reassurances which she secretly knew were as much for her as for the woman with tied arms. It would be too cruel if something went wrong and she and Constance became prisoners without hope of rescue. Jill was honest enough to face her own temperament. If she was to be a prisoner, she had no desire to share either captivity or Hugo Severin with Lady Constance. The continued presence of the woman she called mistress would throw the triangle out of balance. Greedily, she wanted Severin for herself.
In the joyous prospect of going home, the old girl was tingling with happiness from the tip of toes to the top of her head. Constance had consented to be bound as she was but the heady intoxication of command was canceling wounds, making the rough bark against her nipples almost a caress. Cautiously she frictioned her breasts against the rough bark as a foretaste of carnal pleasure to come. She adored the girl who came to her rescue more than she had ever done. She found it inconceivable to leave Jill in the clutches of a man who would whip her cruelly, keep her naked in a cage, and leave her handcuffed there when his mood was negative. Constance was intensely happy and resolved to give Jill a modest whipping on their arrival at the castle to keep the younger girl in line.
Lady Constance was a happily compliant as he changed her poses back and forth, and even returned her to the original stretched with arms and legs tied wide. Her day was close at hand.
The helicopter was right on time. It disgorged several of Fingal's men, obviously hoping for someone to shoot. They had brought with them clothes for Constance and also her handbag which she inspected avidly before she dressed. If Fingal's boys knew how lucky they were to see the mistress of Castle Rintoule naked, they gave no sign. The pilot and Lady Constance had to bark harsh orders to avoid Hugo Severin being riddled with bullets on the spot. He scowled beneath the menace of their guns, to watch his hopes and plans, and perhaps his love vanish into the dusk. He and the boys of The Cause were the only ones who were not happy.
It was a huge helicopter. Lady Constance entered it with regal majesty to be followed one by one by the disappointed rebels to go back to the more fruitful fields of Ireland. In that tense moment, Jill Prospect had eyes only for the man who she had called master, standing under the threat of guns. For the first time in his life, Hugo Severin looked pathetic, and Jill Prospect know what she must do. She waved farewell to the helicopter and watched it rise and soar away. Then she turned to the waiting man to say simply, "I belong to you, Master. I am not afraid."
As though by mutual consent, they went to the tree where Constance had, been bound. The repossessed slavegirl removed her clothes with her own kind of relish, as though it was something she might never do again. When totally bare she raised in inquiring eyebrow and offered Severin her hands. By an odd coincidence he bound one on each side of the tree in the position she had been whipped in not so long ago. Jill tested her ropes and knew she had stepped back a thousand years. Over her shoulder she caught her master's eye.
"This is my welcome?" she asked as though nothing mattered any more.
"It is your welcome, beloved child." Severin turned her head to kiss her lips, to kiss again and again in thankfulness for something lost and now regained. His whisper had the sound of love. "I will whip you terribly, beloved."
Jill nodded. They had gone beyond the need of words. She knew she would scream but the trees would absorb the agonized sounds. She closed her eyes and said softly, "I'm ready if you are, darling."
By the time Severin had inflicted on a maiden bottom a sufficient number of strokes with the crop to satisfy his sense of what was proper, the sounds of the helicopter could be heard again. The welcome paused as the man and the girl searched the summer sky, Severin forgetting his purpose and Jill her pain. The large machine came straight towards then and settled to the grass within a few yards of where they stood against the tree.
Lady Constance was the first to dismount. She held a gun in one hand and her handbag in the other. Hopeful members of The Cause soon joined her in a boring repetition of something done before. "Untie that girl, you son of a bitch!" Lady Constance waved her gun commandingly. "Damn you, I should have known."
It was good to be free. Jill rubbed her burning bottom ruefully and wished the helicopter had arrived sooner. On the other hand, her back was still unmarked. She supposed she was lucky.
Severin stood with the crop still in one hand as Jill threw her hands around his neck and kissed him as might a bride, a delicious occupation disturbed by Lady Constance's voice, "Don't you dare kiss that bastard, you little idiot! If I had any sense I'd let the boys shoot the son of a bitch. Come here before I lose you again."
It was the old magic, the old authority. Jill Prospect could almost see the castle in the background as she went to where her mistress was picking up her clothes. Then she picked up the handcuffs laying on the ground. The slavegirl felt neither remorse at parting from the man, or ecstasy at now being again captive to the older girl. Jill did not replace her clothes. The members of The Cause were all good Catholics and naked girls were not their cup of tea. Besides, they'd already seen her naked.
Jill caught her mistress' eye and knew herself again captive to the magic of Rintoule. Mechanically she held out her hands to accept the bracelets her mistress locked tight on them. "Wait until I get you home, you little so and so," Constance hissed through smiling lips. "Get yourself into the helicopter."
Ignoring pointing guns, Severin has his own last words. "We'll be meeting again," he told them easily. "Don't ever kid yourselves this is the end. Next time I'll make sure you don't escape." He turned and walked away.
Two girls looked out of the windows as the machine gained height and began its journey to an ancient land. Awkwardly Jill asked of her mistress, "Would you mind if I don't sit down? It's sort of painful."
"Why on earth do you think I'm standing, you little idiot. But just wait until I'm finished with you, you'll never sit down again."
