Cathy
by F.E. Campbell
(HIT-126)


Chapter One 

The Quiet Kidnap I knew it was the best time of my life. I knew for sure 
that no matter how long I lived, this moment would be the ultimate, the 
apex, my minute of utter glory. My heart was thumping so loud I figured it 
would probably bring her back to consciousness better than cold water and 
all those other things you're supposed to do. I had to fight back the urge 
to be forever testing the wristlets and anklets I'd made for her. They were 
good and snug and she'd never get out of them in a million years. But it 
felt good to finger them and see if they would go up and down on her wrists 
or ankles. They wouldn't. And the chains were just right, too. 

They kept her spreadeagled on the cot, but sort of comfortable. When she 
woke up she would not be in pain. I wanted her first impression to be good. 

I wondered if she'd realise first thing she was naked. I was going to watch 
every flicker of expression on her lovely face. I was hoping realisation 
would come bit by bit - no screaming hysterics. Noise did not matter, there 
was no one to hear. But it was not part of my dream. Girls aren't pretty 
when they scream. I was determined that Cathy would always be 
beautiful...always! 

I'd given a lot of thought to her nudity: whether it would be more exciting 
for me to strip her while she was out cold or whether I'd get more a thrill 
out of making her do a strip tease for me later on. I'd decided on taking 
her clothes off myself to make it easier for her I mean, no awful decision 
to make before what she'd likely see as lecherous male eyes. Having her 
naked was very important. Perhaps later on when she'd got so she understood 
me I could let her wear a little something, and I had the cutest ideas about 
those little somethings. But at the start it would be much the best for her 
to know just where she stood. It would help with the explanations. Girls are 
awful uppity with their clothes on. This way she'd wake up to what they call 
a fait accompli. Along with my heart beats I was shivering, but not with 
cold! 

Cathy sure was beautiful. I'd never had a good chance to look at a naked 
girl before. I'd seen some, but never so I could get down to a good hard 
look. The way I had her fastened was super - all spread. While she didn't 
know a thing I took the opportunity to really examine the hair and the slit 
between her legs. Hers was nice. 

Some of those you get a look at in girlie magazines are ugly, but not 
Cathy's. Hers was near and sort of cute, cute. I looked forward to having 
the damnedest times with it. It was warm and sort of moist when I held it. 

It was the same with her breasts. A guy gets to see a lot of pictures, but 
it's not the same. Cathy's were nice and firm and conical and her nipples 
were what they call inverted I mean they weren't sticking out, but I'd read 
about that so I wasn't worried, and anyway the effect was smooth and kind of 
exciting. The way I had her chained helped. The wristlets held her arms up 
and back and her skin taut. There was no way I'd ever be calling Cathy's 
breasts boobs or cans or knockers the way some guys like to do. 

I've often tried to draw a naked girl. I expect you have too. You'd think it 
would be easy, not the face but all the rest. But it isn't. Nothing comes 
out right, just sort of lumpy. No, looking at Cathy fastened naked on that 
cot, I could see why. A girl is all lines and curves you don't expect. The 
words "Hills and hollows" came into my mind as I traced her hips and waist 
and armpits and all the rest. The discovery made me tremendously excited. 
Her armpits were nicely exposed so I could see how closely shaven they were, 
with quiet reflection as to whether I'd let the hair grow there the same way 
we men do. I decided I would. I could always shave her smooth again if I 
didn't like it. Thinking about that, little things made me realise just how 
totally I owned her. I owned a naked girl! Like I said, if I live to be a 
hundred... 

Cathy's return to consciousness began with a sort of pull on one of her 
tethered arms and then on the opposite leg. She was trying to turn over, 
still mostly asleep but wanting to change position. I do it myself before I 
open my eyes. A million dollars wouldn't have taken my gaze off her. It was 
as though I was inside her mind, knowing what was going on in there. She lay 
still for a moment and then tried, again, making a funny petulant little 
sound when it didn't work. I expect her mouth was dry from the drug because 
she swallowed and gulped and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. I 
thought she'd gone back to sleep when suddenly she made a determined heave 
to get possession of one of her hands, then opened her eyes. 

She lay still for a moment, looking at the ceiling and tugging pettishly at 
her chained hand. She probably thought it was in someway trapped in the bed 
clothes. Then when the knowledge of something wrong hit her head on, she 
surged against her fastenings in an effort to sit up. It was then she saw 
me. 

"What...what's happened?" she asked in a far away voice. 

She was too beautiful! She was still straining at her bonds in a sort of 
instinctive reaction. She had her head and shoulders raised in an effort she 
wouldn't be able to hold for long. The stress brought out all the female 
lines of her, it accentuated everything and nearly drove me crazy. The 
leather bands I'd made were doing fine, holding snug on her wrists and 
ankles against her tugs. It made me feel guilty to have her looking at me so 
hopefully. 

"Please help me get these things off. I don't." she broke off, uncertain of 
what to say. 

"It was me who put them on." I said in a sensible down to earth sort of way. 

She digested this and come out with: "Why?" 

"Because I want to own a girl." I said It hit her all of a sudden. She was 
naked! She looked up and down at what she could see of herself and back and 
forth at me as though connecting the two. Her cheeks got red and the pink 
spread down. A spasm of frantic tugging and twisting turned her into a 
frenzy of motion which, I'll swear, was more to cover herself than an 
expectation of getting loose. When she had satisfied herself about 
helplessness she sank back, panting, and asked in a small scared voice: 
"Unfasten these things please, I want to get up." 

"No." I said firmly. "Not yet." "Then cover me. Use a sheet or something." 

It was like she was giving me an order. I knew I couldn't have that. It was 
best I start her off right. "I like you naked." I said casually. "That's the 
way you stay." 

I could see it was a bad one for her. It was sort of cute the way she 
examined everything I said. I could almost hear her mind working. 

"Have you raped me?" 

I hadn't. But I was surprised. "You mean, you couldn't tell if I had?" I 
asked her, interested. 

'If that's what this is all about, you'd best get it over with and let me go 
home." I could tell she was fighting hard to be brave and not get me riled. 
What she said then was pathetic and sort of sweet. "I seem to be quite 
helpless. I expect you can do anything you want with me. Especially in 
this...in this ... position" 

"That's not what it's all about." I said quietly. 

"Then why?" 

The poor kid was really up the creek and I couldn't blame her. She lay flat 
with her head turned sideways so she could look at me, and she kept moving 
something as though not believing she was really tied down: her fingers or 
her toes, and little testing tugs at the bands on her wrists and ankles. I 
was loving every moment. 

"Because I want a slave girl." I said. 

She turned that 'one over and came back with: "Haven't you a girl friend? If 
you're nice to a girl friend and she's fond of you she'll do most anything 
you want." 

She was telling me! "Sure she will for a week or until she marries you." I 
said scornfully. "That's not what I want. It's a gyp. 

"We don't always get what we want." She tugged at a fettered ankle to 
emphasise her point. 

"I've got you." Saying it made me feel like a million. 

"Could I have a drink of water? Whatever you drugged me with has made my 
mouth dry." 

I got a glass of water and she asked to have one hand free so as to hold it. 
But I refused and held her head up and fed her the water myself. It felt 
awfully good. 

Her hair and her skin and being close and seeing her strain against those 
lovely chains I'd put her in. She smelled good too. I couldn't tell whether 
it was some sort of perfume or just her. 

"Thank you." she said politely. "Why did you pick me for this... whatever it 
is - an experiment?" 

"It's not an experiment. I picked you because I saw you in the office where 
you work and I fell in love with you. I made a few inquiries and found out 
your name. It's Catherine Hazlett. You live alone. Your folks live in Omaha. 
You're a steno and receptionist. I saw quite a lot of you when you didn't 
know I was watching." 

"if you wanted to know me, or wanted me to like you, why didn't you go about 
it in the ordinary way?" 

"I don't want it like that. This is better." 

"It's not better for me. I do wish you'd unlock these things you've got 
fixed on me. 

I'm willing to talk." 

"we're talking now. If you were free you wouldn't be half as reasonable." 

"You've got an inferiority complex? Is that your trouble?" 

"I don't have any trouble. I've got you." 

"You mean I'm all you want!" 

"Yes." 

"And you're going to keep me chained to this bed?" 

"Gosh no! We'll do lots of things. But I'll keep you chained or tied some 
way." 

She looked at me, really serious. "Are you sure you don't want to ... to ... 
you know - do it to me? I think you should. I think afterwards you'd feel 
better." 

I have to admit that one hit me hard. It meant she'd been used, that it was 
no longer any big thing. She was so beautiful I'd never even dreamed she 
could do something like that. But then I realised all she had was words, 
she'd use them to get the best of me. I had to remember she was female and 
would use everything she had to twist me her way. If I wasn't careful, I'd 
be feeling guilty, or just maybe doing what she'd just suggested. I didn't 
want to do that, not now. "I don't want you talking like that." I told her 
sternly. "You're too nice." 

"Cover me up then." she demanded quickly. 

Girls always have answers, they're good at it. I could tell she was feeling 
me out, seeing how far she could push. I came back at her with: "I won't do 
that. Does being naked bother you that much?" 

Her voice was like an angry mama, testy: "Of course it does and the way 
you've got me tied or strapped, or whatever it is, it's beastly all spread 
out this way. If you don't want to have sex with me I don't see why I have 
to be stretched like this." 

"You're not really being stretched." I pointed out reasonably. "You're not 
hurting." 

"I don't see why I can't sit up. You can tie my hands or my feet or 
something?" 

"I've got proper chains for you. I made them special." 

"Gee thanks!" She piled the sarcasm on real thick. 

"Well, they're a lot more comfortable than being tied with rope all the 
time." 

Seemed like I'd given her something to think about. I guess I had. I expect 
the idea of being restrained permanently was strange and hard to take. She 
lay there, thinking hard. 

"I want to go to the bathroom." 

She popped it out like it was a sure fire winner. I got the biggest charge 
out of being three jumps ahead. Her eyes were wide as I fitted the collar 
round her neck and locked it with the chain tether dangling. I had to lift 
her head and arrange her hair, which was nice. But she was scared. She 
didn't say a thing, but raised up to watch me loosen her feet and then chain 
them loosely so she could walk. When I unlocked her hands I could feel the 
tension radiating from her in waves. She was breathing fast. 

"I've got everything fixed for your comfort." I said, and then added: "And 
safety." 

She was busy stretching and rubbing her wrists. I could tell she was longing 
to use her hands to cover bits of herself but she wasn't going to give me 
that satisfaction. 

She said accusingly: "What you mean is you've got everything fixed so I 
can't escape." 

It was cute holding the chain and watching her learn to walk. She made a big 
production out of it, probably so I'd feel guilty. She kept snubbing the 
chain or getting her toe in it. But we made it to the bathroom and it was 
worth a million dollars to see her face when I padlocked her neck chain to 
the ring I already had in the wall beside the toilet. 

"You've got lots of chain." I told her helpfully. "You can do everything you 
want in here, but if you cause damage or break the window you'll be 
punished." 

She still didn't say a thing. But stood there sort of incredulous about the 
whole deal. 

She was everything I'd ever wanted, standing there with the chain hanging in 
a loop from her neck and the links taut between her ankles. I wanted to tell 
her how sweet she was, but I didn't feel I really could. I just didn't feet 
that I really knew her well enough yet. So I just left her there and just 
shut the huge door. I'd taken the lock out so she couldn't get up to 
mischief with it though the chain wouldn't stretch that far anyway. 

I gave her lots of time. I wasn't going to be in any way a bastard. The only 
thing she'd be able to hold against me would be the kidnapping and any 
punishments she made me inflict. She'd get over being mad about them after 
awhile when they had fallen into their proper perspective in her mind. 

She used the time well. When I went to get her, first knocking at the door, 
she'd prettied herself up, done something to her hair, and draped a towel 
around her hips to cover what girls worry about the most. The look she gave 
me was embarrassed and uncertain. 

"You can take the towel off." I told her bluntly. 

She turned on all her femininity and looked at me wide eyed. "But please, 
I've got to have something!" 

"Why?" I made it curt. 

She gestured with her free hands. "Well, because" 

She smiled at me brightly as though we were buddies, "You'll get awfully 
tired of looking at me bare. What I've covered up isn't all that 
attractive." 

"It is to me." 

Again the gesture. I could tell she was surprised to have her hands to wave 
around. 

"But that's because it's new and because of those gatefolds in the 
magazine." 

Her voice had gained assurance. I could tell I'd have my hands full with 
her. She'd prod like crazy, and wheedle things out of me. I repeated my 
command: "Take it off." 

"I won't!" She turned, Sulky. "Take it off yourself." 

I took it off. It was only tied loosely at two corners. When I brushed her 
pubic hair she slapped my face. 

She was everything I wanted, even the slap. I stood back and looked. She was 
breathing fast and seemed scared. She made a real sweet picture with her 
fists clenched and the chain trailing from her collar to the wall. I figured 
the slap was a reflex: now she was expecting me to beat her. But I saw, too, 
she'd been right about the towel: it did something for the ensemble. Fixed 
the way she'd had it, kinda' loose, made it sort of plead to be yanked off. 
On impulse, I made a mistake. 

"If you ask nicely I'll let you put the towel back on. But it's because I 
say so, not because you want it. Understand: " 

She just stood there and sulked. I could almost hear the wheels turning. But 
she wanted that towel. Finally she asked, stiffly: "Please may I wear the 
towel over my hips?" 

I wasn't sure who'd won the round. But I handed it over and watched her tie 
it back on. It was a damn sight cuter than panties. You could damn near see 
her morale flourish as she tugged the knot and arranged the folds. I didn't 
feel any loss. I could still enjoy her breasts. She'd better not try 
covering THEM!. 

"How about lunch?" I said. 

"What, chained in a bathroom!" She made it sound like a snake pit. She let 
me have one of those looks withering! 

I unlocked her chain from the wall and led her into the hall. She clinked 
along in silence for a few steps and then gave me another shaft: "I'm not a 
dog. You don't have to hold the chain. I'll follow. I can't run away with 
these beastly things on my feet." 

She had a way with her, and she looked so damn cute! So I made another 
blooper. I let go the chain. It fell from her neck down between her breasts 
to the floor. As though it was some kind of reptile, she gathered it up and 
told me haughtily she'd prefer to carry it "If I didn't mind! 

"It's a nice house." I told her on our way to the kitchen. 

"I'm sure it is." she said stiffly. "Have you many other girls chained up 
around the place?" 

I let it go. I was enjoying her hands. Her hands were bothering her. The 
chain on her ankles made her feel helpless only up to a point. I'm sure she 
was wondering why I didn't have her hands fixed some way. But since I hadn't 
tied them she was aching to use them to bop me or find a weapon anything! 
She was quietly hefting the handful of chain from her neck and looking right 
and left as though interested in the decor. "Don't hit me with that." I said 
cheerfully. "It won't knock me out and I'd have to punish you." Then it 
clattered and trailed on the floor. In the kitchen I picked it up and locked 
it to one of the rings. Cathy could sit comfortably at the table with it 
looping off to one side. I could see she was furious. 

I'd fixed a nice breakfast. I passed up her frosty remark: "What, not bread 
and water!" We both ate in silence. We had a lot to think about. Over the 
coffee I tried to get a conversation going, but all I got was hostile 
sarcasms. So I moved to the next item of business. 

The ring in the wall beside the sink was a real shocker for Cathy. When I 
locked her chain to it she knew as well as I did what was coming. "Will you 
wash or dry?" I asked casually. 

It burned her ass. The way her breasts rose and fell told me of the battle 
going on inside. She fingered her collar and looked down at her chained feet 
as though assessing chances, then said listlessly: 'I'll dry." 

Doing something helped. Or curiosity! She talked, nosey as hell. 

"What do you do for a living apart from kidnapping?" 

She just had to be snarky, but I didn't mind. "I inherited some money." I 
told her simply. 

"Just buy the house?" 

"Yes." I added darkly: "It's got no neighbours." 

"Don't you have any friends?" 

I laughed catching her drift. "Of course I do. When they visit you'll be in 
a nice safe place. I've had a lot of work done: soundproofing and such." 

And a dungeon and a torture chamber, no doubt?" 

"Of course! How did you guess?" 

She was startled, and polished a plate busily to hide it. Her remark had 
been another bit of sarcasm but my reply had not. She didn't like the sound 
of it. 

"Do I get to view these useful facilities?" she inquired jauntily, "Or are 
they reserved for when I've been a bad girl?" 

"Both." 

She looked at me intently. "You're serious, aren't You?" 

"Dead serious." 

She dabbed at her eyes with the dishcloth and sniffed. "Don't frighten me. 
more than you have to." she said apologetically. "But I'm in a spot, aren't 
I? Doesn't seem I've got much to look forward to." 

I nearly said: "There's me." But this wasn't the time. I was about the last 
thing she wanted right then, But she had my sympathy. The poor kid was 
having to digest a helluva' lot in a little while. "It's going to be a 
lovely life for you once you've settled down." I said a bit lamely. 

"Oh, for Pete's sake. Damn it." She gave me a withering glare. for a girl to 
be kept tied and chained like an animal and, and, dishes! " 

"What sort of life is it and made to do the We stood there facing each 
other, and suddenly it happened: At precisely the same moment we burst out 
laughing. 

You've no idea how good it was. Like the lifting of a weight. We roared and 
chuckled and then exploded again. The way she'd said that about the dishes! 
When we returned to normal she was annoyed with herself and said huffily: 
"It's no laughing matter for me." 

"Time's the big thing." I said. 

She brushed that off. "I'm a slave?" Right?" 

"Yes." 

"So OK, What are my duties?" 

I'd never thought of it that way. Strange, eh! She'd caught me out. "You'll 
just do whatever I tell you." I said. Then added hastily: "Whenever I happen 
to choose." 

"Must I sleep with you?" 

"Don't talk like that! I don't want to talk about it, not yet..." 

Cathy sighed and managed to look disillusioned and martyred. She couldn't 
keep the scorn from her voice when she said, pettishly: "That means you're 
impotent. I've read about... " 

"I don't care what you've read. Just shut up about it. You'll find out 
whether I'm impotent or not when the time comes. And remember, I won't be 
nagged I've told you about punishment." 

I could tell right off she was taking my outburst as the bluster of 
weakness. a faint smile on her lips said plainly her suspicion was now 
confirmed: I wouldn't be able to do it to her. She pushed her luck: "This 
punishment fetish you've got. Tell me about it." 

Superior as all get out! I was letting her get away with things - it was 
that damn towel. I shouldn't have given it to her. She was getting strength 
out of having her cunt covered. I hate that word but anger made me use it in 
my mind. I made my voice very clear. 

"Fetish my foot! It's an essential part of our relationship." 

"My, my! So we have a relationship!" 

"You're damn right we have! You're a slave - mine! I'm your Master. You act 
stupid, you get whipped." 

I could see her flinch. The word 'whip' had gotten to her. But she was not 
surrendering. "Do you have a list of "Do's & Don'ts for me to memorise 
Master?" 

Her question was as loaded with sarcasm as she could pile on. And her 
"Master" was designed to make me feel ten years old. 

"You don't need a list." I said roughly. "You'll always know just the same 
as conscience when you're free. You'll say 'yes' and 'no' in the right 
places and be obedient." 

"Or be whipped!" 

She was trying to make me sound silly, but I was having none of that. I was 
loving every moment of her resistance, but I had to keep on top. "Yes, Or be 
whipped on your bare skin. It will hurt a lot more than you think." 

"Will it! Kind of you to mention such a detail. But how do you know I 
haven't been whipped and know all about it?" 

"Have you?" 

"Well, no I haven't. I think it would be a demeaning experience for both of 
us." 

"You don't believe I'll do it? You think I'd be chicken"? 

Very slowly she wiped a basin. "I don't know what I think." she said dully. 
"I don't want to think about such a thing at all. I wouldn't have thought 
you'd want to either." 

She looked up in sudden alarm. "You're not a sadist ?" 

"No I'm not" I exclaimed hotly. "Punishing a Disobedient girl doesn't mean 
I'm one of those." 

"What are you then?" 

She sounded triumphant, as though she'd scored. I realised the poor kid was 
just keeping me at bay with words, and testing at the same time. I laughed 
at her earnestness. 

"You're making something out of nothing." I said. "It's simple really. You 
behave or get punished." 

"Whipped?" 

"Not necessarily. There are other ways." 

"Like what?" 

"Never mind. The way you're going you'll find out soon enough." 

"And this behaviour? I have to do everything your way?" 

"*Of course. I own you. 

"Why didn't you punish me over the towel? I wasn't supposed to put it on. 
And I slapped your face?" 

I smiled to tell her she didn't have to be scared. "You're a brand new 
slave." I said. 

"You need a bit of time. I'll always try not to fly off the handle and be 
mean. 

"I'm on probation?" 

"Hmmmm! In a way. I'm trying to be kind." 

"Kind my aunt Fanny!" Cathy glared. She grasped her neck chain and tugged it 
against the ring in the wall. "Do you call this kind!" 

"It doesn't hurt, does it?' 

She let her tension ease. "I suppose not. Oh damn, it's all so crazy! Look, 
on this punishment fetish or whatever: I'd like to dispose of it. It turns 
me off. It's a threat. 

I don't want to be whipped or any of that stuff. if that wasn't there we 
might work something out." 

"You're dictating. I wish you wouldn't. It's got to stop." 

"O.K. big man. But this whip thing --" 

"Hold it a minute!" I demanded, seeing daylight. "Have a look at yourself, 
the way you're acting. Tell me if you can see any other way you're likely to 
accept things as they are. Not the way you want them, but the way I want 
them" 

She turned sulky. she probably didn't like what she saw. She pouted and said 
petulantly: "You belong in the dark ages." 

"You don't belong anywhere." I said. "Until you smarten up." 

She did the damnedest thing. Her breasts were heaving like crazy and she 
looked at me in the strangest way. Suddenly, she lifted the basin she'd been 
drying, and slammed it down on the floor. 

Dramatic as hell! It actually shocked me, the noise and the challenge. It 
was a declaration of war, a war Cathy couldn't possibly win. But why did she 
want to fight it! Pride: some feminine thing I wasn't wise to yet! Stupidly 
I looked at the scattered pieces on the floor, and then up to her flushed 
and resentful face. Right off I could tell she was scared at what she'd 
done. She tossed her head and said bitterly: "Well, now's your chance." 

It's never the way you think leastways, not the way I think! I'Il admit to 
have enjoyed thrills in the past thinking about tying up a bad girl and 
caning her bottom, or birching her, or whipping her, or something. 

For sure this was my chance! In fact, if I was to hold on to my dream, it 
was a necessity. But looking at Cathy standing there frightened and defiant 
I didn't want to. I wanted to kiss her instead. But I had to make a stand. I 
made my voice calm and even. 

"Five strokes with a cane." 

"My, you're generous." 

"Six. 

"Impertinence? Sorry." 

"Seven." 

She cooled and asked quietly. "Here, at the sink?" 

"No, not here. When you're to be punished it will be done properly in a 
proper place so you'll have time to know what's happening and why." 

"I still think you're in love with an obsession." Cathy said quietly. 
"You'll never go through with it, y'know. You're not the kind." 

"We're going to go to a room I have prepared." I told her with a seriousness 
to match her own. "And you are going to allow yourself to be fastened for 
your punishment. If you feel you have to fight, do so. But it will double 
the penalty. Will you agree to behave?" 

"Of course not! This is fantastic nonsense." 

I took the key and was reaching for the padlock on the wall when I saw her 
go for the jug. She was quick and clever. I got my head out of the way but 
the heavy piece of china broke on my shoulder. It hurt like blazes. I backed 
beyond her reach and nursed my wound. Cathy stood there in defiant dismay. 
Dismay that her try had failed, so now she'd really be for the high jump. 
But she put on a bold front: "You asked for that. What do you expect a girl 
to do all this frightening silliness." 

I wasn't mad, and I wasn't damaged. But she was really asking for it, so I 
said reasonably: "I'd say that should bring the total up to ten?" 

She sniffed imperiously. "Hell, make it twenty while you're at it" 

Bravado! My heart went out to her so that I had to force myself to say, "As 
you wish. But we'll make it fifteen. Now, are you going to be sensible?" 

"I'm not going to be a snivelling idiot." 

"You can stay there until you've changed your mind." I said, and I left her 
to it. 

For thirty minutes I considered the situation. I was right, I knew I was! 
Then I went back to the kitchen. Directly I was inside, Cathy picked up a 
plate and threw it to the floor beside the broken dish. She never said a 
word, she didn't need to. I took the drainboard and the dishes away out of 
her reach and told her calmly: "You stay there until you clean up that mess 
and are ready to say you'll behave." 

I got a toss of her head and a glare. After the next thirty minutes she was 
sitting hunched on the floor. She wouldn't look at me. That lasted my next 
two visits, but the next time I went she'd scooped up the broken bits into a 
neat small pile. She refused to meet my eyes as she said bitterly: "All 
right, you win." 

I hadn't called it a punishment room. But that's what it was. It had all the 
things, and the space. I made Cathy walk ahead of me and play safe. Once 
inside, she looked around disdainfully and brightly exclaimed: "So this is 
the Torture Chamber." 

"It's you who's being silly." I said. 

She put a finger under her chin and pretended to consider. "And how many 
extra lashes for the plate?" 

"None. Like I said, you're being silly." 

She kept silent while I let down the trapeze bar with its waiting straps 
each end. 

Then she got sarky again. 

"Gymnastics?'. 

"You put your wrists inside the straps and keep still while I buckle them." 
I said. 

"That's all you have to do." 

"You're too kind to me." 

She just wouldn't let up. But I didn't mind. I loved it. I guess that's why 
I picked her. 

She clinked her ankle chains over to where she was going to be whipped and 
reached out her hands to the bar. "Just a bit lower please." she asked 
politely. 

I should have guessed, or seen it in her face. But she was smart. She had 
the trapeze rope 'round my neck and a knee in my back in two seconds flat. 
For a moment I though I was a goner, she was that strong. It doesn't take 
long for things to go black when there's a rope 'round your throat and 
someone drawing it tighter every moment. What saved me was her ankle chain, 
it wouldn't let her get her knee all the way up, and when I fought she 
tripped in it. She hung on like crazy, but once I got to turn she'd lost the 
battle. At the end of it she was huddled on the floor crying into her hands. 

"You were trying to kill me." 

I suppose I was a bit scared., It had been damn close. I made the words 
accusing. 

She kept on crying, then sobbed: "I wouldn't have, I wouldn't!" Then as a 
feminine afterthought, "It serves you right." 

It was one of those times! I kept silent. 

"Can I finish crying before I have to do that?" 

Pitiful as all get out. I felt a bastard. But the rope bum on my neck helped 
me keep balance. I was thankful the handkerchief I handed her was fresh. She 
said a snivelling thank you and buried her face in it. When the sobs 
subsided I put a hand under her arm. She got up without demur, wiped her 
eyes and cheeks one last time and returned my bit of linen. Without 
prompting, she examined the bar and the straps and inserted her small hands 
within the leather loops. I buckled them tight quick! 

"You don't have to worry. I can't fight any more." 

"Pathetic! I almost cried myself. 

'"ought I had to bend over for this?" 

She was watching her strapped hands rise before her face, and then, her 
arms. She was puzzled and scared, but still perking. 

"It hurts more when you're bent over. But this is the first time." I said. 

She gulped and managed to hold the sarcasms. When her heels left the floor 
she turned to me anxiously. she got back to normal. much success. 

I flipped the switch to keep her just as she was. Right away She tried to 
make her words light and careless, but not with "what have I earned myself 
with that little tussle?" 

"Nothing, It didn't happen. Forget it." 

Standing on her toes she was quite something! 

Well a look! Makes you feel a giant, doesn't it! 

She turned and gave me a look. 

To be so magnanimous? 

Cathy had read me exactly. I felt like a kid caught out in something. If I 
didn't watch out she'd always be a jump ahead of me. But I did not mind. I 
wouldn't have changed her for anything. She was beautiful. 

"Stow it." I said abruptly. "Quit while you're winning." 

"Am I winning!" She gave me the strangest look and then whispered, as though 
to herself: "Yes I suppose I am." 

I let it go. I mean what the hell! 

When I was a kid at dinner we saved the best to last and called it 'the good 
bit.' Well, that's where I was now with Cathy. The pose in which she had to 
stand was perfect. 

It made her breasts and tummy doubly gorgeous. The surge of sex l 
experienced swept away all the doubts and guilt and everything. I knew for 
sure that all the kings and emperors that ever were. would never have had it 
so good as I was about to do whipping Cathy. I was scorching up with the 
lust of it. But that wasn't what I wanted. I thrust it back and went and 
selected the cane I'd use to stripe her bottom fifteen times. 

Her eyes followed me everywhere. She had a real vested interest in what I 
was doing. She'd twist and try to turn sideways when I went in back. I think 
she was scared there must be more to it than the cane. 

"Look." she said desperately. "I'm properly frightened. It's awful having to 
stand here like this all naked and exposed. I've learned my lesson. You're 
the strongest. 

Let's call this off please?" 

"But we haven't started." 

She didn't say a thing, just stared. Her eyes were beautiful, wide and deep 
and troubled. 

"You know I have to finish it, don't you? I have to" 

She was full of surprises. "Yes, I know you have to, or think you have to. I 
suppose it's the same thing." she admitted in a resigned sort of voice. "But 
I just hoped..." 

She gave me a small smile. "Can't blame a girl for trying." 

I couldn't answer. There was a lump in my throat. She was just too lovely 
for a man to cope with. But my resolution was still there. I couldn't even 
be positive she wasn't foxing me. My respect for her was growing all the 
time. I'd kidnapped a treasure. 

I could understand her feelings when I reached for the towel on her hips. 
She looked down in distress, then up at me, wide eyed. 

"Must you?" 

"Would you sooner I used the cane across your back? 

"No! I suppose not." 

She turned and twisted to get a good look at what I was doing. It was cute 
the way she'd contrive to look back anxiously over a bare shoulder. 

I pulled the towel away and threw it aside. Her eyes followed it in longing. 
I'll swear she flinched and shivered as though the air on her bottom and 
pubic hair was cold. 

Maybe it felt that way to her. 

"There." I said briskly. "That looks after that. You're all ready." 

She was exquisite. If the towel had made her erotic, its loss made her 
doubly so now. "Please hurry." she said in a quavering voice, "And get it 
over with." 

She hadn't a clue. That 'Please hurry' bit proved it. After number one 
'hurry' would be the last thing she'd be wanting. I didn't tap her or 
anything first with the cane. I stood well back, positioned, took aim, and 
sliced the willowy cane square across both her soft curved cheeks. 

She sort of froze. Her head thrust itself against a raised arm. Her breath 
came in funny sounding gasps. But she did not scream. One chained ankle 
raised up jerkingly, then went back down. That was all. I walked round to 
face her. 

It would always be the same. She was beautiful. No matter what spot she was 
in she'd come through immaculately lovely. Her eyes were closed, as though 
to hoard and treasure her courage. Her breasts were taut from the pull on 
her strapped wrists. Her pubic black triangle stared at me accusingly. Her 
spasmodic respiration were substituting for screams. It was quite a little 
time before she opened her eyes and looked at me. 

"You were right." she said, sort of tremulous. "It's worse than I thought 
oh, terribly worse." 

I didn't gloat or anything. Just stood and enjoyed her. 

"I was silly. I didn't know " She gazed at me hopefully. 

I never said a word. I knew what she wanted. 

"You're not going on with it? Not now you've proved your point are you? 

She asked the question as though my answer was a foregone conclusion. To 
clinch matters, she added: "Fifteen like that would kill any girl." 

"You asked for twenty. Remember?" 

"I've said I was silly. I didn't know what I was talking about. And I was 
angry." 

Her words were beautifully humble. She believed what she was saying. She 
pulled against the leather bands on her wrists and twisted a bit to ease the 
strain. The motions did miraculous things to her figure. I knew I'd never 
see anything better anywhere than I was seeing then. 

"Please loosen me. This is a terrible way to be fastened. I'm all -- all -- 
it hurts! " 

She had to learn. I knew that if I weakened now she'd be twisting me always. 
Not by con jobs, but by being what she was. I indulged in a bit of 
psychology. 

"We're both trapped, Cathy. You got yourself into this deliberately. You 
refused to believe I had any strength of purpose. I can't forgive you the 
punishment. If I did the whole thing I've planned for us falls apart." 

"Damn you and your plan!" She flashed into sudden fury. But slowly dissolved 
into realisation of the spot she was in. "I'm sorry." she apologised. Then, 
as though needing a vent for something she couldn't hold in, she flung 
herself against the straps, twisted and turned, and kicked at her ankle 
chain as she gasped out: "I'm not sorry at all, and you know it. There's no 
use me pretending. You don't have to be a mind reader to know what's going 
on inside me. I don't want to be hit any more. I want to be freed. I'II do 
anything. I'II be an absolute whore if that's what you want. 

Give me a break." 

"It's still fifteen." I said. 

"I can't stand it. I know I can't." 

"Yes you can. And anyway, what can you do about it?" 

Every bit of her was busy testing the hopelessness of her bondage. "I can't 
do anything." she admitted defiantly. "But I don't see how you can feel 
proud about having me in this fix." 

"It's time for me to hit you again." 

"No don't -- Wait! -- Let me --". "Weren't you the one who wanted me to 
hurry and get it over?" 

"So alright, I was stupid. I beg you, have mercy" 

I sauntered around back and. gave her another just below the first. I 
watched it sort of blossom and rise up, a lovely thin red line. Number one 
was darker now. 

The effect they had on me was startlingly erotic. 

Cathy dealt with her pain much the same as the first time. It was quite 
something to see. She had my heart thumping as I watched her go through the 
stages until she looked at me again. The look itself fanned my fire. 

"*Two. Only thirteen to go." I said. 

"You're mocking me." 

"No. Just keeping count. Not dying are you?" 

"You are too mocking me." 

"No. But I'm curious. You can see now that you're not going to die?" 

"I don't want to talk about it." "That means you're ready for number three." 

"I'm not! I'm not! No!" 

The stripe that came up after that one was a honey. I just stood and sort of 
drank it in until she started to try and peep back over her shoulder to see 
what I was doing. 

Then I hit her again. She screamed. 

Cathy's scream startled me. I suddenly realised I'd never heard anything 
like that before in my whole life. A girl screaming in pain! It was 
wonderful, and exciting, but scary. I knew no one could hear her but still! 

I went back front for the view. It was a lot more animated. Her face was 
sort of twisted and there were tears. Her wrists were taking a real beating 
from the straps. 

I sensed that a lot of what she was doing came from anger and frustration. 
It must be the very devil to be tied naked like that and have someone hit 
you with a cane whenever they wanted. When she saw me this time she sort of 
surrendered. Her eyes were bitterly accusing. 

"It's no use, is it - no use " 

It was, strange. She had been given four strokes. The remaining eleven 
loomed as large and interminable in my mind as I expect they did in hers. In 
a frenzied wish to get the number down or maybe it was just a dither of 
lust, I went back and added six more as fast and as hard as I could lay them 
on. 

She was remarkable. It was another case of being different than you expect. 
After the second of the six I was hitting a moving target. Cathy was trapped 
tight. She couldn't get away from that spot. In theory she had to stand and 
take it, but that wasn't the way it came out. She went wild, absolutely 
crazy. Her screams and exclamations were continuous. She flung herself madly 
against her buckled wrists and kicked and jerked her ankle chain in a 
constant clatter. She even raised herself off the floor in her efforts to 
get her striped cheeks away from the cane. It made whipping her doubly 
exciting. Since I couldn't always be accurate with her bouncing around like 
that, there were a couple of slashes that lapped those already there. 

When this happened she made the most awful noises, noises that were not 
erotic at all: noises that scared me a bit until told myself I was as new to 
this as she was. 

Cathy didn't have much to say. When she finally quieted down she half hung 
there like she'd given up hope. She was panting and her whole body was 
glistening with sweat. Beads of it had trickled down from her armpits. Seems 
out of place to speak of sweat and a girl. But that's the way it was. There 
was also very strong sweetness in the air girl -- smell. It really turned me 
on. 

"Is it finished?" she asked at last. 

"No. 

She looked shocked. "Haven't I had fifteen?" 

"Ten. Five more to go." 

I'd expected an instant clamour for forgiveness but she silently digested 
the bad news. I felt certain she was facing the fact that having survived 
ten, she was not going to die under the other five. She kept flickering a 
glance at me hoping! When I did not respond she tried another approach. 

"I hope you don't think I'll be able to like you after this?" 

"I haven't even thought about it." I said. 

"Don't you care?" 

Foxy as all get out! Screaming her head off one minute, conning me the next. 
I set her straight. "You can get punished for being sulky, or coming out 
with those snarky comments" I said. 

"Love under the lash!" 

"Like that one." I said. "I ought to keep you gagged." 

"But you won't. You'd be lonely." 

The same thought had struck me. Damn rummy that I'd have sort of dependence 
on her. "I'll gag you sometimes, just as a lesson." I said gruffly. "You 
don't learn easy." 

"You've taught me something with that beastly cane." she said grudgingly. 
She mused quietly for a few moments. "I wouldn't have believed it hurt so 
much or had such an effect on a girl. If it's any satisfaction to you I'II 
concede your physical superiority." 

"But you still figure you're smarter than me." 

"Oh, never mind! ' I don't want to be hurt any more than I have to be. Are 
you really going to hit me five more times?" 

"It's six now. You were sarcastic." 

"You don't have to do that!" She was angry again. "You'd be a fool to stop 
me being ME. You'll enjoy me much more if I'm intact. I can obey you without 
becoming a dummy." 

"You'd never be a dummy." 

"I will if you whip me every time I open my mouth." 

"Alright. Say what you like. But I'm making no promises." 

"When do you start hitting me with that cane again?" 

"In one hour." 

"A rest! Oh good! Let me down quick." 

"You stay as you are." I said. 

I could see her wilt. But her voice! Talk about indignant! "I can't rest 
like this! It's awful. It's such a punishment in itself." She looked at me - 
what's the word - balefully. "Unstrap my wrists, please. I promise I'II help 
you fasten me again." 

"The way you are you'll have time to think. To know you're a slave." 

"I'm a slave, I'm a slave, I'm a slave! ! Let me loose." 

"You know better than that." I said. 

I went away and slammed the door. 

Chapter Two 

I only know two things about him. He hates his name, and I would too if I 
was christened Cedric Hollings. The other is that he's scared of me. I'll 
have to play that for all It's worth. But with care. I've already discovered 
it can backfire. Look at me now! What a damn awful mess for a girl to get 
herself into! Naked! Hung by my wrists! Ankles chained! And a derriere cut 
to shreds with a cane. At least that's what it feels like. I can't see the 
poor abused thing the way he's got me fastened. 

He says I've got to stay like this for an hour before he comes back and 
starts caning me again. Five and one extra. Oh damn! He says I should do 
some thinking. expect the bastard's right. What the hell else is there I can 
do! It's for sure I can't get my poor wrists loose. I've tried and tried. 

I've been kidnapped. 

I have not been screwed. That's puzzling. I jibed him about impotence, but 
I'm not a bit sure he is. But of course, there's plenty of time. His time! I 
don't have any now. 

It's all his. I'm all his. Oh shit! 

No ransom. 

He just wants a slave girl. I'm elected. 

I don't have a slave temperament. That's going to be bad. It will probably 
get me a lot of pain. Hell break me if he has to. Hell, I'm half broken now! 
I've already told him I'd do anything to escape more punishment. And I would 
too! I wonder what he might make me do! 

He's a softie. 

Oh sure, he'll beat me and tie me. But then he'll always feel a teensy bit 
guilty. It will bother him, so he'll want me to love him. I think all men 
want that but we girls are just as bad. The whole thing's nuts. 

Can I handle him? 

But he's not stupid. 

Even if he became convinced I'd fallen in love with him, he'd keep me some 
way chained. Play it safe. He's that kind. 

All the rest of my life! Like this! 

Oh no! No, no, no. Oh please Heaven, no! 

With chains I can never get free. Never! Chains are merciless. If only he'd 
tie me with rope! I'm sure it would be uncomfortable but there might be half 
a chance. 

Why must he keep me shackled! Oh well, I suppose if he didn't I'd cause him 
a lot of trouble. When you think of it, the idiot's got himself into a 
bushel of work and bother. But then, I expect he enjoys it. 

He can't let me go. 

That's the worst thing. He dare not let me escape. Even if he came to want 
to give me my freedom he couldn't. I'd tell on him. I'd run to the police. 
Even if I'd promised not to, I'd go to the police. He'd spend most of his 
life in prison because of what he's doing to me. I find the thought 
exciting, thrilling. What power I'd posses at his trial! Oh balls, I'm no 
better than he is. 

He can't trust me. 

That's frightening. It's always going to be there between us when we try to 
communicate. because of it he'll be harder on me than maybe he wants to be. 
We are both boxed in. Damn and double damn! 

That thing I read about. 

I didn't pay much attention. But Dinky Anderson got all excited. She 
borrowed the magazine and never gave it back. It was about girls tying each 
other up so they were helpless. I think a man got in the act somewhere. 
Dinky said thousands do it. 

A sort of love play. I'm damn sure she did it with her roommate - there were 
always bits of white cotton rope lying around their apartment. But I wasn't 
curious. Not then. Maybe I should be now! Suppose Cedric has a fetish! Damn, 
damn, damn! 

It has to be something like that. On account of no tail yet! 

Gosh, I wish I could get loose! 

Just a minute or two to sit down and massage my wrists and get rid of this 
pain in my shoulders. I wouldn't have believed how awful this is. No girl 
could imagine. If only I could have a rest! I'd gladly let him tie me again 
afterwards. 

I'm being punished. 

I've been a bad girl, so I'm stripped and strapped and beaten. 

It's that simple. 

My life: Vast stretches of ennui interspersed with vivid pain. I'II never be 
able to behave to suit him. Never! 

Oh damn, here he is! My Master? Oh no, no no! But that's what he is. He can 
do what he likes with me. Right now his eyes are positively eating up my 
nakedness. 

Gosh, it's crazy the way men adore a girl's body. I hate being looked at 
like that - mostly. 

"Hello Cathy." He wants to be friends. 

"Hello Cedric." I can see him wince, so I pile it on. "Or would you like me 
to call you 'Master'?" 

He won't bite. But asks: "How d'you feel now?" 

"I hurt." 

"I don't mean that. I mean about things?" 

It was a relief to talk, so I talked. "Well, I've found out for sure I can't 
get loose. I haven't much hope of talking you out of caning me some more, 
but I'll try. I understand how I'm going to have to do the things you tell 
me, be obedient. I suppose I've become a slave or is that just another way 
of admitting I'm quite helpless?" 

He nodded, sort of absently. "Are you ready for the other five, and the 
extra one;" 

"No. I'll never be ready. Please let me have some way to earn remission." 

He didn't even answer. Just stepped back and hit me: my bottom that is, with 
his lousy cane. 

That pain drives me nuts. I can't stand it or be heroic or even respectable. 
I go crazy. A puppet on a string. I'm sure he gets a charge out of watching 
my performance. That's the reason he lets me have time between strokes. I 
scream as loud as I can. It helps me and I hope it hurts his ears. 

It goes on and on. Slash after slash. Five lasts Forever!. 

Why can't I become unconscious! I can't. I'm more vividly alive than I have 
ever been. It's not fair. Nothing's fair. 

"Number six, Cathy. The last one. Extra hard." 

Hell, they're all extra hard! When my bottom explodes in agony I pull myself 
off the floor and kick and kick. I've forgotten my bruised wrists, they'll 
have to look out for themselves. But my poor bottom, my poor wounded 
derriere'!. 

Time passes. Probably quite a lot of it. But I am busy with my pain. It is 
something real and alive I have to cope with. It has a personality. 

But then I remember I am now a slave girl. I have a master I must, at least, 
notice. 

Abjectly, I offer him a sad small smile of apology for being so feminine as 
to be hurt by his cane and to make all that fuss. I quiver in anticipation 
of release. 

"I'm glad you understand." He's almost shy. 

I try and look as though I have all the understanding in the world. Hell, 
how lucky can a girl get! I swallow sarcasms by the score. 

"You're not getting loose, y'know." 

I hadn't known? How should I know! The knowledge is like a blow. I long to 
stamp my feet and beat at his silly face with my fists. My wrists are 
suddenly screaming their own protest. Meekly I ask. 

"Why?" 

"Because you want to. Because it's what you expect and think you deserve." 

"But I've had my punishment. It's not fair to leave me like this." 

He grins. He thinks he's proved a point. "You've just hit on the very word." 
He says proudly. "Fair! You have to learn that, for a slave, nothing's ever 
fair. She always has to do what someone else wants." 

I hate myself, but I start to cry. My eyes fill with tears of self pity. He 
had a chance to be kind to me but he isn't using it. The salt drops course 
down my cheek and I cannot touch them. I rub, my cheeks against my bare 
raised arms and feel sure I look a mess. 

"I'm sorry." he says. "But I'm sure it's best." 

He goes away and leaves me alone again. 

The tears help. But I am now dogged by fearful spectres of the night. How do 
I know he won't leave me hanging by my wrists 'til morning! I don't know! He 
could leave me this way for a week if he so chose. I belong to him, a 
chattel. Perhaps hell gag me! Perhaps he'll tie my legs or blindfold me! I 
stamp on the hysterics hard. 

Reason tells me they are born of helplessness. I'm so well fastened I can't 
do a thing. All of me is in my mind and I'm going crazy. 

The bastard can read me. Same as I read him. He's left me long enough to get 
me properly frightened. Now I'm so glad to see him I could weep for joy. 
When he presses the switch and the pulley lets my arms down, the look I give 
him is probably one of adoration. When he unbuckles my wrists it is an 
enchanted moment. I have never known such glory. 

He locks the collar and chain back on my neck and fastens me in the bathroom 
the way he did before. As he leaves he says: "Have a real bath. Take lots of 
time. Then well have dinner." 

Dinner! A bath! Breakfast! Can such normal mundane things still be a part of 
my life! I finger the chain that links me to the wall. It is amply long for 
what I need to do. But it holds me. I am a prisoner, even in a bathroom. It 
feels strange and demeaning to be captive only by my neck. But the single 
chain keeps me as much his prisoner as would the darkest dungeon. I bathe. I 
make myself pretty and perfumed. He has spent a lot of money on feminine 
bottles and jars and little boxes. 

All for me! I feel better. l sit on the closed toilet to await my master's 
coming and release. Prudently I refrain from a towel across the hips. If he 
wants to see my cunt I suppose, by his standards, he's entitled to. 

He carries things. Things I don't like the look of. But I stand meekly while 
I get a leather belt locked tight ,round my waist. It has a ring at the 
back. Through the ring runs a chain. At each end of the chain there is a 
shining metal wristlet. When these are locked round my wrists I can place a 
hand on each of my hips. That is all. I certainly can't fight. I discover 
that by putting one hand way behind I can use the other to do things. The 
chain slips back and forth through the ring to give me this very limited 
freedom. I can even feed myself, Hooray! 

"I spent a lot of money on all these preparations for you, Cathy." 

He's fishing for a compliment. I give him the smallest I have. 

"Thank you." 

"I think it's better for you not to have the full use of your hands." He 
pontificates. 

"Saves you decisions and temptations." 

"Like murdering you?" I ask sweetly. 

I'm a blabbermouth. I can't help it. I'm. scared witless by what I've said. 
But he treats it as humour. My visions of being whipped again fade 
gratefully. But, oh, I'm going to have to watch my tongue! 

"I'm looking forward to dinner. Just the two of us." 

"Romantic." I offer guardedly, and clink my chains. 

"You'll find you can manage things very well chained like that." 

He says it as though my hardware was a diamond bracelet. 

It's a sizeable house. I have not seen it all. I am sure there are parts of 
it I will not like at all. But the dining room is resplendent. Candles and 
silver and white linen. 

My Master has done well for us. I am suddenly hungry. 

"I do it all myself." he says proudly. "With the help of a few cans. And I 
have some wine." 

I test my fetters. sure enough I can raise the goblet and drink. It's 
awkward but I get it all down in thirsty gulps. I look at the empty glass, 
surprised. My manners are atrocious. 

"Gee, I'm sorry. I needed that." 

He approves. Probably wants me drunk for what comes later. He refills my 
glass. I don't sip. I drink. I don't care. Maybe I want to get drunk too. I 
hold my left hand religiously behind my back. The chain from my right wrist 
clinks musically. He refills again. 

I cannot use a knife and a fork. One or the other, but not both. We laugh 
over my dilemma. With ostentatious chivalry my master cuts every thing on my 
plate so that I can now get by with just a fork. We eat. 

"Nice, eh?" he says after the first plateful. 

"Lovely." I agree and keep eating. 

"We must do it often." 

I tense. I get a message. "You mean I won't always be allowed up to the 
table?" 

"There's bound to be times." he says vaguely. 

"Like what?" 

"Well, I expect there will be times when you're locked up, or in some sort 
of punishment." 

"Not if I can help it." 

He grins winningly. "I'd rate you as punishment prone." 

"That's because you enjoy punishing me." 

He goes pink. "Say, is your - does it hurt to sit?" 

It does hurt. but not half as much as I'd expected it to. But I'm not going 
to tell him so. I want him to feel guilty. "You ought to be ashamed." I tell 
him severely. 

"Making a girl sit in this misery." 

"Dammit, I'm sorry. How about a towel?" 

"To wear or sit on?" 

"I was thinking of the chair What a clod! "I've already bled on it." I tell 
him with satisfaction. "You're too late." 

"You're not cut badly, are you?" 

"I don't suppose Nero would think so." 

He pinks a bit more. "Look, I've got you some panties. Can I get you one?" 

I perked. I hated having my pussy and all that black hair sort of lying 
around. 

Panties would make me feel whole again. I hadn't much hope of ever getting 
to cover my breasts. "Yes, please." I said. "I'd love a pair." 

He romps off like a puppy I think 'Now's my chance! " I even get to my feet. 
But all these chains! Hopeless! I sit down again and wince. It's just as 
well, he's back in a flash. Proud as punch. 

I might have known what he'd buy. They were a wisp of gossamer. The effect 
of wearing them would have to be mental, but even that was something. We 
both burst out laughing at the same time when we realised I couldn't put 'em 
on. Not with all those chains he got on me. So Young Lochinvar unlocked a 
shackle on one of my ankles. Then, with a lot of wriggling on my part and a 
lot of pulling and tugging on his, he finally got them where they belonged. 
I'll admit they were snazzy. But I wouldn't want Mother to see them. Cedric 
was tickled right out of his tree and almost forgot to lock the shackle back 
on my ankle. Then we sat down to dessert. 

He wouldn't let me have my hands back to help with the dishes. Couldn't 
blame him much considering how I'd acted before. He left me chained, but 
made me stand and talk to him. The chain from my collar fastened to the 
wall. It felt funny standing there nearly naked and quite helpless while he 
worked away. But at least it didn't hurt. 

Seems like bedtime comes early for slaves. After the dishes I'm taken to the 
damnedest place. It's a cell. The kind you see in the movies. Downstairs, of 
course. 

But warm. Bars and stone walls. Ugh! And a sad little cot with a thin 
mattress. 

"Want your chains off?" he asks brightly. 

"Yes, please." I'm all eagerness. 

He locks my tether to the wall. 

"Playing safe?" I ask derisively. 

"Sure. Wouldn't you?" 

He has a point. I stand in happy innocence while my shackles are removed. He 
manages to rub his head into my triangle. I do not slap. He pushes my 
restraints under the cot and brings out rope. Soft white nylon stuff that 
will bite. 

"You might get bored with chains. I'll tie you up for the night." The idiot 
beams. I long to smite him. 

"You don't have to bother." 

"No trouble at all. Cross your wrists behind your back please." 

I make this really sincere. "Look, I really don't want to be trussed up with 
ropes all night. The collar and chain hold me safe enough, and there's a big 
lock on the door." 

"It's not to stop you escaping, Cathy." the bastard says blandly. "It's to 
keep you in the proper state of mind." 

"I'm humble now. Please don't tie me." 

"It's not going to be a big production. Just your wrists and ankles. 

"It will hurt. I'll never sleep." 

"Yes you will. Besides, it will give you an interest. If you're clever at it 
you could get loose. More sporting than chains." 

"Haven't you a nice pair of handcuffs?" 

"Yes, but it's the rope for you right now. Don't sulk." 

I remember the cane. What's the use! I cross my wrists behind my back. 
Cedric ties them tightly. and, I suspect, skilfully. I know right off I'll 
never get loose. Then I set down and watch him bind my ankles tight 
together. He makes a very neat job. 

All knots are underneath. I have never been tied up before. There is 
something personal and vaguely exciting about it. It hurts, but not enough 
to matter. 

"How's it feel?" He's so damn eager! 

"Helpless." 

"Good. Mind if I kiss you good night?" 

"Go ahead." 

I am kissed. I am locked in. I am alone. 

I look at my tied ankles and the neat way he's corded them together and sort 
of cinched in between. They are snug as a bug. I try and get a look at my 
wrists but can't. Anyway, they're tied the same way. I test. Then I 
struggle. I don't expect to get free but I have to try. It's like having his 
hands on me all the time. Unrelenting. Panting, I flop over on the cot. My 
neck chain clinks. It is generously long. 

It's worse than shackles. Much worse. I can't do a thing. If I don't 
struggle the ropes don't hurt much, but they give me no freedom at all. 
Chained, I could do some small things. It's for sure I can't now I 'thought 
of how heroines on the T.V. always slip out of their bonds. Nuts! No girl 
was going to slip out of these nylon bands biting away at me. I was getting 
ready to shed a few. tears when my lord and master showed up. 

"How you doin?" 

There was something on his mind. I moaned and gasped and twisted. 

"It's not that bad, is it?" 

"Try it sometime. Can I be chained instead?" 

"Look." he says diffidently, "I'm lonely." 

"It serves you right." 

"Want to come back upstairs for an hour or two?" 

My heart's thumping. "Yes. Oh, yes please." I struggle to sit up. "I'm 
afraid you'll have to carry me. I've had it. 

The handcuffs gleam excitingly. I expect my eyes do too while I am untied. 
"Back or front?" I ask helpfully. 

"In front. It's social. But I'll chain your ankles." 

I do not care. I hold out my hands and am intrigued by the clicks by which 
the steel bands encircle and imprison my wrists. I admire the cold lovely 
things while Cedric fetters my feet. He then takes off my collar . I am 
wondrously excitingly happy. If he asked me to marry him, I expect I would. 
It's like winning a sweepstake. 

I clink happily ahead of him from the cell. 

With a couple of drinks, Cedric gets sentimental. Not mushy. He still 
doesn't want me to lay on my back but romantic. He comes up with goofy 
sighing exclamations. 

"Who'd have thought this possible!" He's looking at my breasts. 

I am looking into the drink I am busy sipping. I hold it easily in my 
chained hands. 

But I have to use both, it's sort of cute. In their way, the handcuffs are 
cute too - lovely wicked bracelets! I'm determined to drink all he'll let 
me, and get an hour's comfort in this nightmare. I've just poured the 
drinks, and served his on my knees as I proffer it. He doesn't know how 
close he came to getting it in his smirking face. 

But this chair is lovely and soft on my poor bruised behind, and it's a 
lovely room. 

He's getting me so I'm grateful for anything that doesn't hurt. 

"You must have thought it possible." I remind him. 

"It's every chap's dream." he says enthusiastically. "Actually, all it takes 
is money. 

They ought to have slave markets the way they did in olden times. Then I 
wouldn't have had to kidnap you." 

"You didn't have to now. You could have courted me normally. I might have 
surprised you." 

"Oh come now! One look at a pair of handcuffs and you'd have run for your 
life." 

He has a point. He is now looking at the cleft in my panties. I cross my 
legs hurriedly, but then uncross them slowly. If all he wants to do is look, 
maybe I'd better be grateful. 

"Why does the woman in your life have to be chained or tied up. If she liked 
you or loved you she wouldn't run away?" 

He dismisses that with a grunt. "Marriage and living together and all that 
jazz is for the birds. How often does it work! The girl always messes it up 
by getting to be boss and spending all the money." 

"You've got an inferiority complex. that's all that's wrong with you." 

For an awful moment I sense the cane hovering. But he evades my accusation 
by an oblique diversion. 

"I want you to be happy." 

His eyes have left the rest of me and are focused on my face in a fatuous 
smile. 

What a jerk! My answer is ready made. 

"So you hang me up and whip me half to death! Then tie me in a mousey little 
cell!" 

"But that's just today. It's bound to be difficult for you at first. 
Actually you're doing fine." His smile has wilted but he goes on manfully: 
"It's a well known fact that slave girls were a lot happier in their slavery 
than if they'd been free." 

"Baloney!" 

"No, honest, it's a fact." 

Hold it girl! Don't get him arguing and angry. I've got it good for an hour. 
Play it cool. "How will you make me happy?" I ask brightly. 

"You're happy now." 

Damn him, he's right. I am. I feel gorgeous all over. I've even got used to 
him ogling my breasts. But the answer to that is easy too. 

"So all right! I'm happy. You've been so mean to me all day it makes what 
you're giving me now seem like heaven." 

"Well?" He seems to think something's been proved. 

Oh damn! I can see it now. He wants power. And he's got it! He's got me. I'm 
a sort of instrument he can play on at will. He can make me scream or make, 
me laugh. He can make me beg, he can starve me, he can load me with chains, 
he can use my body or he can make me purr with content the way I am now. Oh 
shit! I could kill the S.O.B. He's reduced me to a responsive doll. 

"It works fine for you." I admit lamely. "Aren't you lucky! " 

I clink half way to the bar with my empty glass before I remember what I am. 

Absurdly, I blush and stammer. 

"I'm - I'm sorry. I should have asked." 

"Go back and sit down. Then ask properly." 

He is Genghis Khan. He is a Roman Caesar. I am actually frightened, at my 
temerity. 

I return to my chair. I am very humble and only slightly sarcastic. 

"Please, Master, may I refill your glass first, and then mine?" 

The bastard radiates graciousness. Damn and blast! To what extent are these 
roles going to take hold of us and become real! Once more I am on my knees 
before him. it seems quite proper I should be there, raising his refill in 
my chained hands, I am a slave. This room has slipped back in time two 
thousand years. 

"You did that very well, Cathy." 

I suspect he is pleased only because he wants to be. This social evening 
suits his mood. I should leave well enough alone, but I harbour a concern 
that nags. 

"Does the scenario call for me to be whipped tomorrow, Cedric?" 

"Not if you behave." 

I distrust the word "behave", so prod a again. "You won't do it to me just 
for - for fun -- Your fun?" 

He becomes cautious. "I might. I don't have to justify anything I do with 
you." 

It's there! I knew it was. I'll always be prey to his whims and fancies. Oh 
damn, I wish I could get out of this bind. Keep my cool, I've just got to 
keep my cool! I try and lean his way. 

"I'm not sure how to address you. I feel strange about it. 'Cedric' seems 
familiar and pally. 'Mr. Hollings' or 'sir' sounds like I'm your secretary. 
That only leaves 'Master'." 

"I was coming to that. Call me 'Master'." 

"Yes, Master." 

I savour it. I ought to hate it but I don't. It lends itself to sarcasm, and 
maybe it will help me keep perspective. I'll fight this slavery, but he'll 
make me one. I know he will. 

A slave can't call her owner 'Cedric' without upsetting apple carts. My 
bottom constantly prompts caution. 

"There is something." he says diffidently. "You've got parents. Do you want 
to write them a letter?" 

Hastily I praise. "Thanks. It's nice of you to think of that. But what can I 
say to them? You'd edit it, wouldn't you?" 

"I'd have to. I wouldn't blame you for trying something. But I thought a 
simple statement that you were . . might help." 

"I can't. Figure it yourself. I've disappeared. Suddenly they get a note 
saying I'm all right. Then nothing. Nothing ever! It's better they think I'm 
dead. You've created this situation. D'you feel happy about it?" "Not 
really. But you weren't that close. I made inquiries." 

I think we're on dangerous ground, so I say. "Please, Master, let's drop it. 
Maybe another time." 

He's a real flitter, and slips me a new one. "You're not frightened of me, 
are you?" 

"Do you want me to be?" 

"Don't be cautious. Just tell me." 

"No, I'm not afraid of you." I say slowly. "But I'm scared stiff of the 
things you do to me. does that make any sense?" Does it? I wonder. 

"Right on." he pontificates. "It's my authority you fear, not me." 

"You'll get bored with your slave girl after awhile. "What then?" 

"I've thought of that. But I've got some business affairs and some social 
ones. You just round out a full life. When I'm not around you'll be kept in 
a safe place. If you've behaved there'll be the usual diversions. "Sitting 
in chains in front of the T.V?" "What's wrong with that?" 

"And if I haven't 'behaved' I'll be uncomfortable?" "Of course. What else 
d'you expect!" So that is it. I've got the picture. I'll let it drop. Be 
happy. I'm a slave girl. I don't have a future. 

I'll behave so I don't get beaten. 

Oh shit! 

It's not a bad evening. The drinks help. He talks about himself and my 
slavery. I listen and clink my chains. He finally announces bedtime. 

"Could you make my ropes a little less tight, Master?" 

"You're not going back to the cell." 

So I've graduated already! Gosh, he's going to prove he's potent. 

The bedroom is splendid, so is the four-poster. Every thing is splendid 
except me! 

I'm back in a collar and chain. My bathroom attire. I'm excited and curious 
a bride in chains! Expectant is the word for Cathy. Briskly, my master locks 
my chain to a ring in the floor, too far distant for me to touch the bed 
with my cuffed hands. He throws me a blanket. 

"If you prefer the cell. Just say so. I'll take you down." 

I do NOT prefer the cell. I sit on the deep rug and watch him undress. He 
has a neat clean body and a fine erection. He points to it triumphantly and 
tells me it gets used only when he decides. He does NOT decide now. He puts 
out the light and gets into his bed. I wriggle under my blanket. When a 
girl's chained nothing is easy. 

I'm a slave. 

At the foot of my master's bed. Chained. 

Why the hell am I horny! 

Oh shit! 

Chapter Three 

It's been a wonderful couple of months. Far better than I expected. I 
realise it's Cathy's 'intelligence that's made it so. She's come up with a 
neat blend of resistance and compliance. It's made for a very flexible 
relationship. If I feel like whipping her there's nearly always a legitimate 
excuse. And for her part she's arrived at what she believes to be the 
minimum degree of obedience and humility I'll stand for. She nags a bit 
about being chained and tied and more or less naked, but not more than I 
find amusing. She's beautiful. The whole thing's beautiful! 

She's longing to be screwed. I'll admit that first day I was a bit miffed to 
discover she wasn't a virgin and had done it a good many times. But that's 
turned out good too. Before I kidnapped her she'd acquired an appetite for 
it. Under the right circumstances she enjoyed a good piece of tail. Right 
from the first she wanted it from me not because I'm me, but because she saw 
it as a brief bit of happiness in what seemed a damn rough deal. I've 
refused to give it to her because it keeps her wondering, off balance. If I 
screwed her every night, she'd think she had me. She'd get uppity. This way 
it's cute. I catch her looking at me, puzzled. She drops hints. 

Shell even use her legs to tempt me. I discover she plays with herself. When 
I tie her so she can't she gets sulky as all get out. I don't suppose I can 
abstain forever, but while I do I get a kind of respect from her: keeping 
her guessing. 

There was the one time she went too far. 

From that first day she'd often ask me, politely curious, why I didn't do it 
to her. 

When I'd laugh it off she'd drop the subject, not because she wanted to but 
because girls think they mustn't ask. But this time something grated and she 
turned on me like a tigress. 

"You're gay! That's it! I might have known!'. 

If I'd been gay I wouldn't have kidnapped a girl. But she wasn't thinking, 
she was mad. But she'd hit me wrong. I hate gays and their whole lousy 
scene. You can't hurt me worse than to call me one of them. I saw red. 

Without thinking, I pronounced sentence. 

"Twenty." 

She sort of recoiled, hand to mouth, eyes wide. By that time she'd come to 
evaluate her punishments and know the amount of pain she'd have to suffer, 
from one stroke up. Twenty was bad. I wished I'd stopped to think. But I'd 
said twenty, so twenty it had to be. As I cooled, I resolved to make 'em a 
bit lighter than I usually laid them on. 

"Oh, Master!" 

"Downstairs on the bench. Bottom well up" 

She fell to her knees and pushed her hair against my pants, her head was 
well bowed in submission. Her voice was tremulous. 

"I'm sorry. Oh, Master I'm sorry! My fool tongue. Forgive me." 

"No one will ever call me that." 

She was sobbing. "I didn't know. I didn't know!" 

"You'll know for sure when I'm through with you." 

She positively wailed in anguish as she rubbed her wet cheek against my 
thigh. "But, Master, please, not twenty!" 

No play acting. All for real. I get the damnedest erections at such times. 
Like I said, at the start I was half scared of her. But more and more I'm 
getting a new assurance. Cathy's my slave. 

"Don't try and twist me. You know I don't bargain over punishment." 

"Oh, Master, twenty's too awful. I can't stand twenty." The last comes out 
as a despairing wail. She bowed herself lower and beat on the floor beside 
my shoe with a small clenched fist. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry! Please, 
Master, let me say I'm sorry?" 

"You've just said it." 

"Forgive me oh please?" 

I'II admit it would have been easy to pick her up and kiss away the tears. 
I'd have felt much macho. But it wouldn't have been a good idea. Cathy's 
right in there if I show a weakness. So I just repeated: "Twenty." 

She blinked up at me through her tears. "Master, please! Maybe ten?" 

"Twenty." 

A nice thing about Cathy is that when she knows she's beat she accepts it 
and stops snivelling. She did know now. She got to her feet, gave me her 
best sad reproachful look, and wept her way ahead of me to the room where 
the bench is. Only her feet were chained. She had her hands for her tears. 

At that time I'd had her about five weeks and she was pretty well trained. 
She was beautifully obedient, she hated being whipped. It was mostly her 
tongue that got her into trouble. Mostly I did not chain her heavily. 

She stood still while I unlocked the shackles from her ankles. She was going 
to be tied tight with rope and they'd have got in the way. Even when she 
stood completely free and knew she was about to be terribly punished she 
didn't do anything silly. By now she'd stopped crying, and in a businesslike 
way stepped out of the panties I'd let her wear, then arranged her nakedness 
on the bench the way she knew I liked - she's been on it before. As I tied 
her ankles, strapped down her waist, and bound her wrists out at the side 
above her head, she helped. When I went to tie a hand or foot it was already 
in its place. Cathy was resigned. Now all she had to do was please. She had 
come to accept that she was a slave, and was doing the best she could with 
it. I tied her very tightly. Her raised bottom wouldn't do more than quiver. 

The ropes were deep into her skin at wrist and ankle. She did not complain, 
but what she did do was pretty nice. You may say she was just being clever, 
but I thought she was sincere. I still do. 

"Master?" 

"Yes, Cathy?" 

"I deserve this I don't know about the twenty, that's a terrible punishment. 
But I shouldn't have said what I did. I wish I hadn't said it. I know it's 
not true; at least I know it now." She wriggled against the ropes in a way 
that told me she was embarrassed. "Master, I don't suppose you can believe 
this, but I didn't say that to get let off anything, honest I didn't! I know 
you're going to cane me the full, whole lot. I'm saying it because I was an 
idiot." She paused a moment and then blurted out: "You don't have to say a 
thing. Just start my punishment." 

Amazing, eh! Quite a girl! 

In telling you about Cathy and me there's no use giving a blow by blow 
account of every mark she got on her pretty skin. There were a lot of them. 
she was constantly getting punished for something or other. In fact, I 
sometimes figured the deliberately provoked me into giving her some small 
number of stripes just to relieve whatever tedium she might be feeling or to 
get us both sexually excited, that's possible too. By the time I'm speaking 
of she'd been a slave long enough that she could take up to five hard one's 
on her bottom or back without screaming mostly without much noise at all. It 
wasn't that she didn't feel 'em as much as ever, it was simply control and 
getting her ideas about being punished into a proper perspective. 

I realised this time was different for her. It was probably the first 
occasion in which she felt genuinely guilty of something she regretted. From 
the first cut across her raised bottom, I'd forgotten and made it good and 
severe, I sensed she was going to be stoic I think that's the word for what 
the British call a stiff upper lip. She just gasped and tensed. And she kept 
right on gasping and tensing right through the whole twenty. Not a single 
scream. Oh sure, I was making them light after the first. 

But they hurt plenty. Each one left its red line across those lovely curves. 
She was experienced enough that she had to know I wasn't going full out, 
that she was getting off a bit easier than she'd expected, but she didn't 
say a word. Neither did I. 

It would have been an awkward admission for either of us. 

"Thank you, Master." 

I'd scarcely laid the last cut across her skin before she came out with her 
ritual thanks. She actually made it sound as though there was a bit of 
gratitude in it, and maybe there was. That night I roped her in the little 
cell. 

She never spoke the word I hated again. 

There's something Cathy hates. It's being left alone. 

Can't blame her much, she's always more or less helpless. 

But I'm not entirely a loner. I have to be out and around sometimes. So I 
pull a crafty one on her by once in awhile leaving her tied or chained in 
the cell or the punishment room, or even the dungeon. If she knows I'm in 
the house it doesn't affect her too bad. So now when I go out I don't let 
her know. I put her safe and go. But the idea got to bothering me too, 
finally it gave me the notion. The notion is part of this story and comes 
later. But first there happened something that damn near scared me out of my 
skin. 

I'd been out for the afternoon. When I came back to the house from the 
garage the small broken pane of glass was like a scream of warning in the 
night. 

I kept my cool. It might be nothing or it might be everything. I had to find 
out about Cathy and if she'd been found. I let myself in silently and went 
on tiptoe to the door that led to the steps downstairs where my slave girl 
was locked in her cell. Sure enough, there was a light. 

Talk about luck! From the bottom step I could look down the passage to where 
a woman was also doing a tiptoe act. I could tell she was youngish. She had 
a camera kit slung from one shoulder. She was just approaching Cathy's cell, 
when she drew level with the bars she stopped dead, sort of frozen by what 
she saw inside. 

I had but one thought. This snooper must not talk to Cathy. If they 
communicated I was sunk. I leaped down that passage with a speed that caused 
the interloper to to turn and view me with pure horror. She was younger than 
l'd thought and I expect I was a frightening sight. 

She fought like a fury. I could have beaten her down with my fists, but I 
didn't. I don't think there's many of men who'd fight a woman the same way 
we'd fight a man. but I did manage to drag her away from the bars and down 
the passage a bit. 

I'll never forget Cathy's startled face or the way she ran to the bars and 
gripped them The main bout got started then. I only won it by being quite 
brutal and twisting her arm up behind her back. That way I got her into one 
of the rooms, pushed her back into a closet and locked the door on her. 
Panting, I retrieved the satchel she'd lost in the tussle and examined the 
contents. I had to know what sort of a tiger I had by the tail. 

A camera, not too expensive, a light meter, the usual junk. There were 
letters, a little money, a bank book showing a four dollar balance, and a 
driver's license. Her name was Nancy Dwight. Nothing to tell me why she was 
snooping in my house. I set it all aside, found handcuffs and slipped them 
in my pocket, and unlocked the closet door on which she had been steadily 
pounding. 

She leaped at me like a cat. So we did it all over again. She lost bits of 
her cute little frock and her bra strap broke, but I finally managed to turn 
her on her face and get a knee in her back. She was tired by then and 
getting the handcuffs on her wrists wasn't all that hard. I clicked them too 
tight. I was mad and scared! The silly bitch was messing up my life,. 

When I got off her she struggled awkwardly to her feet, pulling madly at the 
handcuffs behind her back as though she really expected to break the 
connecting link. Her breath was coming hard and fast as she backed into a 
corner and glared at me. I said the first thing that come to mind. 

"I'll call the police after you've told me what you're up to. 

She didn't answer at first, just stood at bay assessing me. I saw now that, 
even with a smudged face and torn clothes, she was a damn pretty girl. One 
conical breast was peeping shyly at me through a tear. 

"YOU call the police!" All the indignation in the world was in that first 
word. "You're some sort of a kidnapper I knew there had to be something!" 

"Tell me more." I suggested pleasantly. 

She twisted her shoulders and gave an extra hard tug at the cuffs. "Well, 
look what you've done to me! Let me loose. 

"What's your line? Burglary?" I motioned to the camera. "Blackmail." 

It hit her hard. If she hadn't seen a naked girl locked in a cell her 
position was damn weak. Even having seen Cathy, it wasn't that good. 

"You can let me go." She gives me a real haughty sniff. "I won't lay charges 
about what what you've done to me. You can just pay me for the dress." 

That was better. But I had to know. "I asked you question" "I'm a press 
photographer." "Where's your Press Card?" Hating me, she says: "I don't have 
one. 

I'm free lance." 

"Where have you been published?" 

"I haven't yet, I've only just..." 

She broke off in confusion and looked sheepish. She tried to pick up the 
slack by snapping at me. 

"I suppose you know these these things you've put on my wrists are hurting 
me." 

"Why are you in my house?" 

Damn her wrists! Right then I couldn't have cared less. But she did look 
amusing boiling over with indignation, and wondering what lie to invent. 

"This isolated house looked interesting - the trees. It's a bit eerie. I 
made inquiries and learned there was a man no one knew. When I came back for 
a second look I felt sure the place was deserted. It does look like it, 
you've let the garden go to weeds. So I broke in. I know it was wrong, and 
I'll pay for the glass. If you like, we can can call it quits about my 
dress." 

She looked at me hopefully. But I wasn't a bit sure. 

"Oh, come on. You can do better than that." 

"Well it's the truth. I've just got to sell something soon or I won't eat." 
She stared back at me defiantly. "My intuition wasn't that far wrong that 
poor girl down the passage! In a cell! Boy, what a story!" 

"It's not necessarily what you think." 

She sneered. "Your wife, I suppose? Naked!" 

How lucky could I be! It wasn't often I locked Cathy in there without either 
the handcuffs of the collar, but this was one of those times. I took a shot 
in the dark. 

"And what was this poor naked girl doing?" 

My captive looked sheepish. "Reading a book." 

"Well, well, not using a file on the bars or screaming for help!" 

The sarcasm reached her. She tossed her head angrily but kept silent. A 
second bit of luck occurred to me. Cathy was wearing a pair of panties that 
hid the worst of her welts. If snoopy here had seen any she'd have blurted 
it out for sure. She herself now came out with the answer. 

"There wasn't time for anything. She was getting ready to say something when 
you grabbed me. Look here, there's no need for these handcuffs. I'm not a 
bandit. 

They hurt. It's damn fishy you having a pair - what are you." 

"I write. Hence the solitude." 

"Who's your publisher?" 

She snapped it at me quick, hoping to score. I'd stretched the truth once, 
now I had to do it twice. 

"Ballantyne, and some stuff with Random House*." 

She wilted a bit under those names. "Well, now we've been sort of introduced 
you can let me go. I'm sorry I've been a nuisance." 

"Get back in the closet." 

She visibly flinched., "No I won't! It's horrible in there in the dark. 
Besides, why would I!" She looked genuinely puzzled. "I mean, why do you 
want to lock me in there?" 

"I have to make some phone calls. Can you give me a reference I can call to 
check on you?" 

She squirmed and her breast came through completely. She looked down at it 
in surprise and, quite laughably, tried to wriggle it back in. The face she 
turned to me was pink. "Look what you've done! and no, I don't have numbers 
to give you. I just came here. But there's the apartment manager. The office 
number is nine four three seven one six eight. I think there's his card in 
my satchel." 

"Into the closet you go." 

"Damn you. That's a rotten way to treat me. I'll get terribly frightened 
alone in there. 

Look, will it be for long?" 

"Half an hour." 

"It will seem like days." 

"I can't help that." 

She shrugged resignedly. Then did the cutest thing - smart too'. She backed 
up to me, bent forward a bit, and raised and wiggled her handcuffs at me." 

"You'll wear those." 

She shrugged again. I suppose she figured it was a good try. Without a word 
she flounced her way to the closet, turned, and let me have a glare of hurt 
resentment, then stepped inside. 

I locked her in. 

Can you believe that kidnapping a girl is like marrying her? Your lives 
interlock. 

What happens to one involves the other. I'd no sooner closed the door on 
Nancy Dwight than I hotfooted it down the passage to Cathy. Even before I 
got there I could see her knuckles 'round the bars. Her face was a study. 

"What have you done with her?" She'd been bursting to ask. 

"Locked her in a closet." 

"Oh, thank God!" 

She buried her face in her hands and started to cry, a sort of hysterical 
sobbing. I stood there like an idiot. This was something new. 

"What's the matter, Cathy? What's wrong?" 

"I thought you were killing her." 

The shocking words came to me though her muffling hands. They were faint and 
broken by sobs, but they struck me like a thunderclap. I was horrified. 

"You thought I'd do that!" 

She didn't answer right away. But sobbed away her tears and finished them 
off with my handkerchief, for which she reached through the bars as though 
knowing I'd offer it. Then she cocked a questioning eye at me, an eye 
stricken by an awful knowledge. 

"What else can you do with her! She's seen me." 

Like I said, Cathy's got brains. Right off she'd seen what I was still 
trying not to see. 

She'd hit the nail right on the head. What the devil was I going to do with 
that blasted girl back there in the closet! What indeed! 

"Set your mind at rest." I said, a bit hurt. "I'm not killing anybody." 

She brightened. Then in the natural way she'd become used to, she thrust 
both hands at me between two bars. In an absent minded way, I took the 
handcuffs from the hook on the passage wall where I'd hung them when we had 
earlier done the reverse motions, and tightened them upon her wrists. It was 
understood between us now that she would never be allowed an unfettered 
freedom in which she might be tempted to do something silly. then I unlocked 
the door and went in the cell with her. I sat on the cot while she knelt 
before me. all her slave actions had become ingrained. Her handcuffed wrists 
rested easily in her lap. I told her the story. 

"What will you do with her, Master?" 

"I don't know." 

"She sounds a little stupid. Maybe, Master, if you say the right things 
she'll just be glad to go and do nothing." 

I gave my slave girl a look she understood. She clinked her cuffs in an 
admission of guilt. 

"I'm sorry, Master, that was feeble." She gazed up at me appealingly. 
"Forgive me for wanting freedom. I know perfectly well she'd go straight to 
the police. a naked girl behind bars in a cell makes too good a story. She'd 
have nothing to lose. Will I be punished for that?" 

"No." 

Cathy made me see the trap I was in with such a hard shocking clarity. That 
damn girl in the closet had my life in her hands. I wasn't about to kill 
her, but I could well see why some chaps did kill girls in binds like that. 
What could I do with her! Apart from being scared, I was irritated enough to 
want to go in there and whip her silly bottom the rotten little snoop! 

For a little while we were silent with our thoughts. In between wondering 
what to do with my amateur photographer I caught a glimpse of a knowledge 
Cathy must be finding bitter. If I'd stayed away thirty minutes longer, 
she'd have been free by now. 

In her place I'd have been tearing my hair and swearing. But then I switched 
back to worrying about me. In the middle of it a small quiet voice said.: 
"Cedric?" 

Cathy's use of my silly name was about on a par with all the rest. I looked 
down at her in surprise. I could tell she was up to something. 

"You thought of something?" 

"Yes, Master." She sort of squirmed and looked embarrassed. "But I don't 
know how to say it." 

"Say it anyway." 

"Promise you won't punish me?'. 

Ordinarily, that bit of wheedling would have got her five with the cane 
right quick. 

Masters don't have to promise slaves anything. But I remembered her voice 
when she'd pronounced my name. I was curious. 

"I'll only punish you if you don't come out with it." 

"It's crazy and you almost have to be suspicious." 

"What file hell of?" 

"Me and my motives." 

"Out with it." 

"You're in trouble, Cedric. I don't want to get you angry and be beaten." 

My name again! She had me going., "Alright, alright! I promise." 

"She only got a quick look at me through the bars." 

"So?" 

"She didn't have time to see my whip marks. But she must have noticed I wore 
panties, your most respectable pair. I wasn't chained or tied. I was reading 
a book." 

Cathy was recapitulating, marshalling facts. Her eyes were on me, but 
intent. 

"You were still locked in a call." I said glumly. 

"She can't be sure of that." Cathy had become eager. 

"She did not try the door. I didn't run to the bars until the fight 
started." 

"Does all this prove something?" 

"It proves I could get dressed and go in there and laugh her out of her 
confidence. 

Make her feel a fool." 

Masterly, wasn't it! It takes a woman! Then I saw the hitch. 

"She'd never buy it. Not with you handcuffed or your ankles chained." 

"I wouldn't be handcuffed or chained." 

She said it quietly, a little fearfully. Her eyes were very anxious. 

"Then you'd just walk out with her and go home, Or to the police." 

"No." 

We looked at each other, seeing only the shocking thing she had propounded. 

Everything was closing in on me. Even my own slave girl was able to jockey 
me into a comer. 

"Cathy, don't be silly. You'd be crazy not to. Even if I tried to subdue the 
two of you, one would get away for sure." 

She nodded. "Yes, I know. This is why I'm scared you'll punish me. It's an 
outrageous proposition and I'd deserve to be whipped if it wasn't sincere." 
she looked up at me earnestly. "I wouldn't even try to escape." 

This had to be nuts! Cathy sounded so damn genuine. But I expect my face was 
loaded with doubt. 

"Why, Cathy, why*?" 

"Look, Master. I'm not going to call you Cedric any more. Try and look at 
this from where I'm at. I'm in as much of a bind as you. First, look at 
these handcuffs." 

She held up her linked hands and I looked at them. 

"I'm always helpless, aren't I. I'm never given the faintest hope of escape. 
Right?" 

"I suppose so." 

"No matter what you do with this Dwight girl I'll remain a hopeless 
prisoner. Is that not so?" 

"No need to make it sound so awful." 

"So I've nothing to lose?" 

There was excitement in her voice as she made her points. I couldn't see 
where we were headed but I sure wanted to know. 

"No you haven't." I said morosely. "The loss is all mine." 

"So! If I go to work on little brighteyes and either succeed or fail, I then 
let you chain me again and go back to square one. I haven't lost a thing." 

"Except a marvellous chance at freedom." 

"Not really. The chance could not exist under any other terms but these." 

I think it's what they call "devious logic", I couldn't pick a hole in it 
other than it was far out - far, far out! But, for sure, one thing screamed 
aloud. 

"You'd be doing this to save my neck, Why?" 

Her eyes became very large. She was ready with her points though she 
stumbled a bit at the start. 

"Look, you've kept me your slave a long time now. We've got to know each 
other. 

You've refused to sleep with me. I don't know why; you've known I wanted you 
physically. We're not in love with each other, so that doesn't enter into 
this. But I don't hate you." She grinned ruefully. "Except sometimes when 
you whip me. I certainly don't hate you enough to make me want to see you go 
to prison for life. Maybe I'm crazy, but I wouldn't want that. I just 
wouldn't! What you've done to me is something you felt you had to do even 
the pain." 

Her voice became as still as her body. She looked down at the handcuffs in 
her lap. 

I hadn't a thing to say. I mean, when you're offered the world you can't 
just say "Thanks", I had never seen her more beautiful. 

"It's a sort of parole." I said stupidly. 

"Just trust me, Master." 

I trusted her. 

I mean - what the hell... 

It was quite a moment when I took off her handcuffs. We both recognised it 
as symbolic. Cathy did a strange thing. She took my hand and kissed it 
lightly. Just a brush of her lips but it burned like fire. Then she got to 
her feet briskly. It was a good thing I didn't have to speak. I couldn't 
have done it not with that lump in my throat. 

For a few minutes we were busy as bees. We planned while she dressed and 
fixed her face. The first time I'd stripped her before tying her to the bed 
I'd kept all her clothes. They were undamaged. She was tremendously pleased 
to see them. She even took my panties off and put hers on. It's true what 
they say about clothes. 

They're far more erotic than nudity. Watching, I even Considered if I'd let 
her dress sometimes afterwards if there was an afterwards! 

"I'll have to let her out, Master." 

I gave her the keys to the closet, and the handcuffs. 

"Oh damn!" She grinned at me. "I can't call you Master again until after. 
Since we're supposed to be married I'll mix in a few darlings with the 
Cedrics." 

Strange how I trusted her. 

I do have a study and I do have a typewriter. I put a sheet of paper in it 
and scattered others around. My heart was thumping. There was nothing to 
stop those two girls trotting off down the road. I might never see 'em again 
except in Court! 

I made sure I was tapping busily when laughter heralded their entry. I 
looked up as though they'd interrupted a genius at work. They must have been 
busy with girl tricks. They both looked smart as mannequins. Nancy Dwight 
seemed a bit stunned, but not unhappy. 

"Cedric dear, this is all too idiotic." Cathy was giggling enough to get a 
smile out of our guest. 

"I still don't like snoopers." I said uncompromisingly. 

"Nancy's explained all that." My one time slave girl waved away my objection 
with an airy hand. "I might have done the same thing myself. Look darling, I 
think we owe her a drink. and she's going to stay for dinner." 

I let out a sad, sad sigh over leaving my authorship, but said politely. 
"Well, O.K. 

Let's go have the drink. Maybe I could use one myself." 

Cathy was a miracle. Girls have a natural gift for dissembling. I suppose it 
comes from twisting men all around their fingers for centuries. Between her 
own hot effervescence and the gin, Nancy Dwight blossomed. I wouldn't have 
given her points for real intelligence. But once she'd forgotten the closet 
and the handcuffs she became a very acceptable bit of female. I had to 
entertain her while Cathy prepared dinner. I was on tenterhooks the whole 
time, wondering how she was making out. We'd decided it had to be her and 
not me who did the job. But I suppose a bit of absent mindedness is 
forgivable in an author. I began to have a feeling things were going to work 
out. 

I needn't have worried. Like I said, Cathy is a miracle. 

Being a husband, I grumbled a bit but ate it with relish. Nancy was now 
enjoying herself immensely. She insisted on helping with the dishes. I let 
them go, and for several minutes heard the echo of their laughter. They were 
having a ball. It looked as though we'd won our battle. 

When Cathy came in alone I could tell from her face we were sunk. She had a 
finger on her lips. 

"I have to hurry. She thinks I'm in the john. Whatever you decide will have 
to be quick." she whispered "That damn girl's just dropped a bomb, she's 
going to write an article on us and try to sell it." 

"Can't we talk her out of it?" 

"It's worse than that. She's going to a big newspaper and the police." 

"What in hell for?" 

My slave girl waved her hands in disgust. "She's talking about it as though 
I ought to be pleased. That cell jolted her. She says that even though I 
seem free and happy I may be under some sort of compulsion. 'Coercion' is 
what she suspects. I can't laugh her out of it. She says for me not to worry 
because, either way, I'm going to be alright. And she's got it in for you 
over those handcuffs. Oh Master!" 

My mind raced. I didn't waste time wondering why Cathy was so incredibly 
loyal. 

That was a miracle by itself for another time. I considered holding our 
guest long enough to get rid of the house and move away. But that was 
hopeless, tracing would be easy. The fool of a girl was almost asking to be 
murdered... 

Then I remembered my notion. "Cathy." 

"Yes, Master? 

"Remember the times you've been scared to be left a prisoner here alone?" 

She nodded. 

"How'd you like company?" 

It was so simple we almost laughed. 

Cathy's whisper trilled amusement. "But Master: two of us!" 

"Why not!" 

"Master, I may hate her." 

"No you won't. Besides, she's to be your slave, not mine." 

Cathy's eyes widened in delight. She put a hand over her mouth to stem 
giggles. 

We headed for the kitchen. 

Nancy Dwight wasn't there. 

Neither was her satchel. 

We caught her at the car. In her rush to get away she'd pushed the wrong key 
into the ignition. This was our third fight. Without Cathy's help I would 
have been obliged to hurt her. For Nancy, this one was a no holds barred. 
She probably guessed what she was fighting for. 

Her life? 

Certainly a good portion of it. 

Chapter Four 

He's taken me to bed. 

A reward?' 

He loves me? 

Or just a male reaction? 

It doesn't matter really, the thing is he's done it. It was wonderful, 
wonderful, wonderful! We never mentioned Nancy all night. We forgot her 
completely. Oh, sure, I was chained to the bed by one ankle. We never 
mentioned that either. 

There was bound to be a change. Both of us changed. 

Not basically. But in our knowledge of ourselves. Especially me! 

When the time came I couldn't bear the electricity between us. I'm surprised 
it didn't spark. But it was a moment of portent and we both knew it. I 
simply held my hands out for the handcuffs while he was still wondering how 
to open the subject. Then I insisted on having my ankles chained as well. I 
was frightened of freedom. I'd held it in my hand and flirted with it. I'd 
had enough of awful decision. The chains came as a relief. Honest! 

Men are so difficult about emotion. Cedric was so smitten with gratitude for 
what I'd done, or tried to do, that we was prepared to let me continue to go 
about the place with clothes on and absolutely free of bonds. This happened 
after we'd put Nancy in a safe place and before he took me to bed. I had to 
be severe. I told him straight I'd honour my word and allow myself to be 
chained now this crisis was over, but I'd be damned if I'd walk around free 
and stay there. It was asking too much. I told him to either make me keep my 
promise or to say goodbye. I swore I'd never tell on him if I went. The poor 
goof looked so stricken that it was right there I took off my clothes and 
offered my wrists. 

Was I crazy? 

Am I kinky? 

I don't know. 

Oh, shit! 

So I was a slave girl again. And taken to bed by my master! It did us both 
good. I wanted it, and it sort of made him my Master again put him back on 
top no pun intended. I was terribly, terribly happy. I know that has to be 
ridiculous, but I was happy. And it didn't go away. 

I expect that in that decision I made I was influenced a bit by memories. 
I'd been Cedric's slave a long time. If his fool of a name makes him sound 
namby-pamby, he isn't. True, I'm mostly a jump ahead of him except when I'm 
being whipped. But he's good looking and well set up and can be a lot of 
fun. Right from the start he'd mostly let me have dinner with him, and they 
were very good dinners! Afterwards we'd go to a the lounge and sip drinks. 
We had a helluva' lot of laughs. I got so I never noticed I was chained and 
minus clothes. Crazy! 

I don't think I'm in love with him I don't think he's in love with me. 

It's nicer than that. 

A lot simpler. 

Nancy helped our readjustment after the crises. She unwillingly gave us a 
common interest and stopped us being shy or self conscious because of that 
awful day. Boy was she a handful! With her around I'd never be bored again. 
When my master told me I could have her for my own personal slave it seemed 
like fun. But that first day - Holy Cow! 

"You're nothing but a traitor." 

Because I'd been promoted, we had locked her in my cell for the night. 
Handcuffs in front. Another pair on her ankles so she could only hobble. We 
had also removed what was left of her clothes. She glared at me now through 
the bars. 

"How about breakfast?" 

"You know what you can do with breakfast!" 

"How about the bathroom?" 

I had her there. I knew how she felt. 

"While I'm using the bathroom you can get my clothes. I'll leave immediately 
after." 

She said it like she believed it. I could feel the shock waves as I chained 
her ankles and put the collar and chain on her neck. "Your feet are 
chained." she said accusingly. 

"You guessed right, Nancy. I'm a slave girl too." 

"What d'you mean 'too!' I'm not such an idiot as to allow myself to be 
treated the way you do." 

I slipped my panties down and showed her my bottom. 

"I knew it!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "He beats you. There had to be 
something." There came a little break in her voice. "And you've got whip 
marks here and there all over. Oh Cathy!" 

I had to feel sorry for her. After all, I knew the feeling. I put a 
comforting arm 'round her shoulder and kissed her lightly. "You can get the 
same marks too." I warned her gently. "Just be sensible. It's a case of: if 
you can't beat 'em, join 'em." 

I led her to the bathroom and locked her chain to the wall. I'll admit I got 
a bang out of it. I couldn't but wonder if I'd looked as outraged as poor 
Nancy. 

Now I had a problem with myself. Maybe you've caught sight of it. My ankles 
were chained. I could walk slowly but not run. I was naked. But on the face 
of it there seemed no reason why I couldn't grab a cover, walk out the door 
and down the road. 

It was part of this new master I now had. He was trusting 'me in a way he 
shouldn't have. He was giving me a half a freedom so I could take away all 
of Nancy's. But I was ungrateful for the nervous strain of it. Should I walk 
down the dusty road or shouldn't I! If I did and he caught me he would 
punish me bad: that was a deterrent. 

On the other hand I might make it and be rescued. But then how would I 
explain being naked with chained feet! There would be awkward questions I 
couldn't answer. Sure as shooting I'd end up with the police. Being a slave 
has its own problems. Slavery and freedom comes in degrees. Each is 
comparative. 

"Where are my clothes?" said Nancy. 

"Come and have breakfast.". 

"I refuse to be naked in front of that man." 

"Would you sooner go back in the cell, hungry?" 

"I can't walk with my feet chained like this." 

"If I can, you can." 

Grudgingly, she followed my tug on her chain. 

"Good morning, Nancy." said my Master politely, eyeing her frantic efforts 
to do something with her cuffed hands. "You can only cover one thing, so 
don't bother." 

She chose her left breast for a few moments and then abandoned the project. 
She was all blushes and anger, not all that scared. We ate, and my master 
laid down a few rules. 

"You'll obey us both, Nancy." 

"Up yours!" 

"You can never escape. You may be here for life." 

"It's you who'll get life." 

"You are going to become a slave." 

"Please don't be ridiculous. And take these handcuffs off me, How d'you 
expect me to use a knife and fork!" 

"You are doing very well." 

"You're a couple of kooks. She's as bad as you." 

"You can be punished for impertinence." 

"Drop dead." 

"You will be punished for disobedience and for attempts to escape." 

"How you do natter on!" 

"Cathy was once in your situation." 

"She should be ashamed of herself!" 

"You will be assigned small tasks." 

"Laying down to be screwed, I suppose?" 

My Master's lips betrayed amusement. "That comes only as a reward for good 
behaviour." 

"You can give her my share." 

Nancy Dwight was not easy. She was a self-important little busybody. Her act 
in breaking into the house demonstrated her assurance. She was probably a 
spoiled brat. My master sighed. 

"You must consider yourself Cathy's personal property." 

Considering she was wearing handcuffs, Nancy's aim with the cup of coffee 
was pretty fair. Some reached my master's face, the rest splattered on his 
shirt. Our unwilling visitor sat with eyes blazing defiance. 

My master rose. He did it grandly and with purpose. 

"I'll clean up." he said evenly. Then to me: "Cathy, advise this absurd 
child." 

I remembered how I'd broken that dish on the floor! 

"I suppose he'll knock me around now." Nancy was prepared to enjoy 
martyrdom. 

"You'll most likely be whipped." 

"Oh, come off it! He wouldn't dare." 

"I showed you my behind. He whips me when I'm silly." 

She dismissed my weals with a clink of cuffs. "You're one of those that like 
it. I've read --" 

"I don't like it! I hate it! It hurts something awful!" I was getting miffed 
with this imperious little snippet. "I scream and beg and promise the same 
way you will." 

My vehemence got to her. "He won't will he?" 

"He will." 

Her eyes strayed to my unfettered hands. "Why don't you walk out?" 

"The doors are locked, the ground floor windows are barred. Besides, I can't 
walk much faster than you can. There is also the little matter of getting my 
fanny flayed." 

She munched and asked for another cup of coffee to replace the one she'd 
used as a missile. Nancy was thinking hard. 

"Why don't the two of us jump him?" 

"You won't get such bright ideas after your bottom's been striped." 

"Isn't there something we can hit him on the head with when he comes through 
the door?" 

Thought of my master with a battered head revolted me. I wanted freedom, but 
at a lesser price. I told her so. 

"You're in love with him." 

"No, I'm not! But it's just - oh damn, it's more complicated than you can 
see right now." 

Nancy's vexed admonitions were lost in my master's re-entry. He said in that 
lovely terse way he'd often used on me, "Ten strokes." 

"For other folks!" Nancy's eyes flashed. "Why don't you grow up!" 

"If you've finished eating you can do the dishes." "You know what you can do 
with your dishes." 

My Master sighed happily. I have to admit I was pleasantly excited myself. 
Nancy needed guidance. I hate to admit it, but in certain circumstances 
there's only one guidance us girls really pay attention to. Little Miss 
Muffet was about to make its acquaintance. 

"She's all yours, Cathy. I'll inspect the job later." 

Good gosh, me! 

Thrash a slave girl! 

Wow! 

I had to be quite brutal with the chain to drag my new possession to her 
place of punishment. something was wrong! This wasn't my role. 

I found myself resenting the expostulating little bitch who was making each 
step a tug of war. Why the hell couldn't she have kept her nose out of my 
affairs! 

"All this fuss over a few dishes!" 

"Oh shut up!" 

The punishment room and its contents had only faintly sobering effect on my 
charge. 

"Stage props! I'm not impressed." 

"Lay on this bench." 

You lay on it." 

With an unexpected push I got her face down. With frantic hands I got the 
strap round her waist and cinched it as tight as I could. I knew from 
experience a girl was helpless after that., She kicked and pounded for 
awhile and then gave up. 

"You're being absolutely beastly to me." 

"I'm going to free your wrists and ankles, Nancy." 

She perked. So did suspicion. "What for?" 

"It's best to tie you down tight with rope. "I refuse. I won't let you." 

"You can't stop me." 

"There's something wrong with this bench a hump." "That's to raise your 
bottom. 

It's sticking out beautifully now. After I've got you tied it will be even 
better." 

That hump was more eloquent than my words. I knew how she felt. She kept 
quiet while I used the keys and don't think it wasn't a damn funny feeling 
for me! But when I put the first rope around her ankle she went wild. She 
kicked so much she hurt herself on the bench. When she tired I managed to 
get her lower half nice and tight. She had a lovely round backside. In fact, 
she'd a pretty good figure all around. Her face would have been good too if 
she could stop being petulant and demanding. It was when I knelt beside her 
face to tie her wrists that she became girlish. Her eyes were turned my way 
and very close. The pulse in her neck was beating hard. 

"We ought to be on the same side." 

"We are." 

"We're not. If we were you'd let me go." 

"Then I'd be thrashed too." 

"My pussy's showing up behind, isn't it?" 

"Yes." 

"I don't want him to see it like that." 

"He's seen mine often enough." 

Her eyes widened. It was as though she saw me for the first time. "Honest? 
You mean you've been tied like this?" 

"Of course." 

Poor kid. I suppose it was hard for her to digest. 

Really hard. 

"Look, Cathy. He doesn't go through with it, does he? He isn't really going 
to hit my bottom with some lousy stick or whip or something?" 

"Of course he is. How d'you think I got my marks!" 

She looked interested. "What did you do?" 

"I lost my temper and said something I shouldn't Slaves aren't allowed to 
lose their tempers. You'd better watch yours." 

"I think you're both doing this to scare me. But if he does, you know, if he 
hits me down there he could get my pussy." 

"That's an occupational hazard." 

"0 Cathy, don't be so callous! Look, you've tied that wrist awful tight. If 
I let you tie the other one without struggling will you tie them both a bit 
looser? Please?" 

"Slaves aren't allowed to bargain." 

"Oh wow! You're hurting." 

I knew there was only one thing that would put a dent in Nancy's conceit 
with herself. I hurriedly finished tying, using all the tricks of cinch and 
knot my master used on me. When I was finished she was very helpless and 
looked cute as can be. 

"I can't move." 

"You're not supposed to." 

So there I was! Face to face with a situation I'd never dreamed of. Total 
power over another girl. I could whip Nancy as long as I wanted. 

But I didn't want. 

I found my master in his study. I was already crying. I sank to my knees and 
buried my wet face in his lap, my arms clung. He put a hand in my hair and 
left it there. 

We said nothing. We didn't need to. After I'd given him a nice wet patch, I 
mumbled. 

"It's no good." 

"What's wrong, Cathy?" 

"She's spoilt things. She's spoilt everything." 

"Where is she now?" 

"Oh, I've got her safely tied to the bench. But I can't whip her. I just 
can't. It's not my thing. It's not me." 

"But I want you to." 

"Oh, master!" 

He went on smoothing my hair. He'd grown a up a lot since he kidnapped me. 

"If you refuse to cane her bottom, I'll whip you, Cathy." 

"Yes I know, Master. I'd sooner it was that way." 

The hand continued its play. After a while I wanted to puff . 

"That bad, eh?" 

"Yes, master." 

"You mean you dislike her, or you just don't want to punish her?" 

"I don't like any of it, Master. It's lousing us up. Before she showed, I 
knew where I was at. Now I don't. Look at me now, I'm running around this 
house almost in freedom - just my ankles chained. I've got so I can walk 
real good like this." 

"Is that bad?" 

"Of course it is! Don't you realise I could wrap something around my best 
parts and slip out of a window. You might not catch me before I found help." 

"Is it a chance you wish to take, Cathy?" 

"I don't know. It's not as simple as just being frightened of the punishment 
you'd give me if you caught me. It's that I don't want to live like this, 
always tempted. With Nancy Dwight yelling at me because I don't cut and 
run." 

"But I can't chain you more heavily or keep you locked up. You wouldn't be 
able to handle Nancy or keep your authority." 

"That's right, Master. The best thing is to keep us both properly chained or 
locked up together. I don't want a slave. We both belong to you." 

"Well, when we knew we, were stuck with her it seemed a nice idea that she'd 
be company for you." 

"I don't want her." 

My master's voice was troubled. "I don't want her either." 

I raised my head in surprise, but his hand continued in my hair, so I put it 
back down. 

"You'd think if one slave girl was good, two would be better." he said 
slowly. "But I can tell already I'm not going to like it. I'm no Solomon, 
but I can see where jealousy is going to pop up. I've got used to you." He 
chuckled. "And besides, last night in bed was habit forming." 

"It was beautiful, Master." 

"So what do we do?" 

"Let me go and keep her. I won't talk." 

"Oh come off it, Cathy!" he paused. "Do you want freedom that bad? 

All of a sudden, I was crying again. It was just much too much. I didn't 
know what I wanted, and I couldn't even think of a way to say I didn't know. 
My master let me cry it out, just gently patting my bare shoulder from time 
to time. Finally I said the thing I was sure I ought to say. It came out in 
little sobs. 

"Yes, Master, I want freedom. Wouldn't any girl!" 

"Is this so bad?" 

"In a little while you will have to whip me. I wear chains." 

"Is that an answer, Cathy?" 

"It is all I have, Master." 

"Do you love me?" 

"No. I don't think so." 

"Well don't you know?" 

"No, I don't know, Master. I'm sorry. You made me a slave. I'm all mixed 
up." 

"I won't let you go, Cathy." 

Everything was crumbling. My beautiful happiness of the night and of the 
morning dissolving. On top of Nancy Dwight we were now all smothered in 
emotion, emotions we hadn't known were there. Emotions that were going to 
rob me of a master and replace him with a total stranger. I could sense that 
Cedric was not every going to whip me again, or chain me, or lock me in the 
cell. I wasn't going to be a slave. I wasn't going to be anything. If he 
gave me my freedom I wouldn't know what to do with it I'd be out there 
somewhere, a nothing! 

This can't be happening. 

It's crazy. 

Unreal. 

"We'd better go and deal with Nancy." I said listlessly. 

"I don't want to do that either." said my Master. 

We looked at each, other in dismay. And then laughed. We'd gone over a brink 
into hysteria. But it brought release. I sparked my screwball idea. 

I told my idea to my Master. 

My Master said it was nuts, but if that's what I wanted... 

We went down to the punishment room and our waiting guest. 

She was not pleased to see us. Her wrists were already red where she'd been 
tugging, so where her ankles. 

"This has gone far enough." 

From the way she said it, it was obvious she expected it to go further. My 
Master picked up the cane that awful one that's wrapped around my hips so 
often! 

"Don't you use that thing on me!" 

My master used it on her, but good. 

I was entranced. I'd never been a spectator. It was like watching the 
scarlet line form across my own bottom and the flesh begin to raise. I 
didn't feel a bit guilty. I was cheesed off with Nancy. 

"Damn you, that hurt!" 

She looked up at my master indignantly. I'm sure she thought she was 
imparting information of which he was unaware. 

My master swished her again. I was able to see how a girl's skin depresses 
under the impact and then bounces back and blossoms. Nancy became quite 
animated and tugged delightfully. Her voice was now uncertain. 

"Stop it. I think we'd better talk." "You make a habit of breaking into 
people's houses?" "Don't make such a big thing of it. It doesn't entitle you 
to do this to me." 

"You prefer the cops?" 

Nancy tried to wriggle, but I'd tied her too tight. I understood the 
desperation building up insider her angry mind. "Well... I mean, that's what 
I want to talk about." 

My master gave her number three. It was quite beautiful the way they were 
spaced. 

Lovely tattoos on pink skin. When a girl is whipped she ought to be able to 
see her stripes. The sight would help a lot. Nancy howled and made my ropes 
creak. 

"Damn you, I said I'd talk. Hold it." "What about?" 

"Well, are you doing this to me because I snooped or because you enjoy it?" 

"Both." 

"You're a kook. But O.K. Maybe I owe you. Give me five and let me go. We'll 
call it quits." 

"You don't want me to call the police?" 

"Stop talking about them. You don't suppose I'm going to bare my bum and 
bend over for 'em to have a look, do you" 

"That isn't what I meant." 

"Alright, alright! No, I don't want you to turn me in. Give me five of these 
beastly agonies and let me go. 

"Ten." 

"I'll die." 

I recalled saying that myself. A girl actually believes it. My master laid 
on number four. I gasped when I saw what it had hit. Poor Nancy! She would 
have done well in opera. 

"You bastard! You hit my cunt!" 

"You shouldn't stick it out like that." 

"I can't help it, idiot! Look, don't hit it again please! 

My master hit it again. I could swear I saw it swell. Nancy had lovely plump 
lips. 

Some man would be lucky probably had been!. 

After the vocals and the heavings against my ropes she gasped: "That's five! 
Please, Please, that's enough I've paid for your rotten window." 

My Master gave Nancy her other five. The effect was remarkable. 

She screamed steadily. 

Caned bottoms are beautiful. 

I got horny. 

I was ashamed of myself. I would not have wanted to cane Nancy's pleasant 
little posterior. But watching it done by my master - wow! I could 
understand why he'd often caned mine, just for the fun of it. The whole 
effect of those scarlet cheeks was exquisitely delicious. 

"I shall never forgive you." said Nancy. 

"You can untie me now." said Nancy. 

We broke the news to her. 

"You mean I have to stay tied up like this and watch that! She made the 
final word sound an obscenity. 

"I've been a very bad girl." I said demurely. 

If I'd have been her I'd have been a bit more humble after those ten. But 
Nancy was unquenchable. Her bottom flamed, so did her scorn. 

"I guessed it right. You're both kooks." "It's because I absolutely refused 
to cane your bottom, Nancy. I didn't want to. My thing is the other way 
'round." 

"Your cunt! Oh sorry, yeah, I see what you mean. You love it, don't you! I 
was sure you did. Those marks..." 

"Yes, I love it." I hoped my lie didn't show. 

"You must be crazy. The pain's awful." She looked up at me, puzzled. "Or 
doesn't it hurt with girls like you?" 

"It hurts, Just as much as with you and I'll scream. But I have to have it, 
I have to. 

But you're not interested." 

Nancy was interested as all get out. But she wasn't about to admit it. 
"Well, if I have to watch I have to." She said with false dolour. "I suppose 
having another girl see you whipped makes you hornier still?" 

"I can't help it. That's the way I am." 

The little biddy didn't realise how lucky she was. A front seat to watch the 
greatest show on earth. The fact she was tied to it wouldn't spoil her view. 
My Master and I went all out. What I was about to suffer had to pay a 
dividend. 

"The bar and the straps, Master?" 

"Get over there, Cathy." 

"Master please, not too hard?" 

"You need a lesson. And if I don't do it hard, you beef." 

"Not the bad whip, Master?" 

"That's her way of asking for the bad one." my master informed our wide-eyed 
audience. Then to me: "Off, with those panties." 

"But isn't it my back you're going to whip?" 

"Never mind. Off!" 

I parted with my panties slowly as though they were my last friend. I didn't 
have to act. It was real. Baring her last private bits is just plain anguish 
for a girl at such a time. 

"What's this 'Master' business?" Nancy was getting interested. 

I snapped at her. "What else should I call him! I told you, at times like 
this I'm his slave. I can't help that either." 

"Well, don't get shitty. I'm just asking." 

"Get your wrists in there, Cathy." 

Hastily I obeyed. Cedric strapped them extra tight, then up they went until 
I was on my toes. 

"You've a nice figure." 

From Nancy, that was a real bouquet. Her eyes were popping. I strove for a 
nice blend of poignant expectancy. I heard her gasp when Cedric took the 
whip from the rack on the wall. 

It was by no means his cruellest whip. But to the uninitiated it looked 
wicked. the punishment I was about to get wouldn't be my worst. But it would 
hurt bad enough even though it was in a good cause. 

"Please, master, not too many." 

He didn't bother to answer, just whipped me. 

I screamed and danced. He'd taken my ankle chains when I'd removed the 
panties. I was able to put on a real display of flashing legs and writhing 
rump. The lash he was using was just enough to get a response out of me with 
each blow. I didn't have to act. When I pleaded for him to stop, I meant it. 
When I begged him to stop and to fuck me instead, I meant that too. From the 
corner of one eye I could see Nancy was getting all the right impressions. 

I threw in a simulated orgasm for good measure. I heaved and gasped and 
lifted myself off the floor. Cedric paused with the whip to allow Nancy a 
ringside view. 

But at the peak of my act he gave me a real dowser of a lash and I'll be 
damned if I didn't explode! I was furious with myself. I didn't mind putting 
on an act for Miss Nosey. But that she should see me actually reach such a 
shattering climax! I curled up in chagrin. But the whip kept slicing me so I 
had other things to worry about. 

At the end I hung sweating. All very familiar. 

"Satisfied?" 

"It was gorgeous, master. Thank you!" 

I put my heart in it. I was panting hard and feeling that wonderful 
thankfulness I'd known so often. I can understand girls wanting to be 
whipped just to get that glorious relief. It's a sort of glowing orgasm that 
lasts and lasts. 

Nancy understood it, too. The things she wanted to believe of us were 
falling into their appointed slots in her sharp little mind. 

"Gee." she said in a hushed voice. "I really envy you." "Master. I want you. 
Bad!" 

Cedric freed me and carried my whip streaked nakedness from the room. 

Nancy watched fascinated. But not a peep! 

This time it was even more beautifully wonderful than the night before. I 
knew why. 

I was getting to know a lot of things. After a long, long time, I knew I did 
not want to do the next thing on our agenda. 

But I had to. 

No other way. 

Oh, damn! 

Why was I a girl. 

Men own us always. 

Chapter Five 

"It's nice of you to give me a ride, Nancy." 

Her satchel was on the back seat, along with the overnight case Cedric had 
miraculously produced for me. He had thought of everything, including a lot 
of money popped into my handbag. Nancy's little car purred its way towards 
the city. 

"I guess I sort of owe you something." Her sideways glance held awe. "That 
was quite a show you let me in on." 

"Worth the sore bottom?" "Gosh yes!" 

"Want to do it again?" 

"Jeepers no! Once is enough. But I wouldn't have missed it. How on earth do 
you stand that pain!" 

"I don't stand it. It happens. It's love play. Try yourself an orgasm after 
being whipped." 

"I wish I could have taken pictures." Her voice was real wistful. "But who'd 
buy 'em! 

It was nice of your guy to give me that fifty bucks." 

"We knew you were disappointed about no story. But, Nancy, do you often 
break into houses like that?" 

"First time. Never again. Honest. Say, Cathy?" 

"Yes." 

"Stay the night with me." 

"But, Nancy why?" 

Again the sideways look. This time appealing. "No reason. I just like you. 
I'm lonely." 

It was perfect. Her awful suspicions were buried. A night between two girls 
would cement them away forever. I said "O.K." and "Thank you very much." We 
stopped to eat, then went to her apartment. It was dinky but had a nice 
large bedroom. She made us drinks from a lonely and sadly depleted bottle of 
vodka. I told her I'd go out and buy another when we'd finished it. I wanted 
to stop my nagging thoughts of the man who had owned me as a slave and let 
me go free. I was mixed up between sorrow and excitement. Maybe it was as 
well to spend the night with this nosey little snippet who was actually 
improving on acquaintance. It would stop me thinking. 

I took a refill into the bedroom when we went to unpack my things. In doing 
so it became evident Cedric knew more about girls than I'd have thought. It 
was all there. 

Stuff he'd bought for me before he'd even kidnapped me. Everything Nancy 
would expect me to have. Perfect! 

They gleamed wickedly. Shining steel chrome. And the key attached by a 
rubber band. Beside them nestled a tight ball of white rope. 

The final authenticity of my depravity. 

Handcuffs. 

Pure genius. 

"I suppose you always carry them?" Nancy's query was intrigued. 

"I'm incorrigible." 

"Is there - Is there someone in town?" 

"One never knows. Remember the Girl Guides: 'Be Prepared!' " 

"You take it seriously, don't you. Gee whiz!" 

Her regard had become faintly respectful. It flickered between the handcuffs 
and me. "It actually means a lot to you. Not just being whipped ... but 
these things." 

"Everything. don't be shocked." 

"Oh, I'm not!" Nancy was nothing if not avant garde. "But I've only read 
about them up to meeting you." 

"Read about what?" 

"They have names. Sadsomething and masosomething." 

"Forget 'em Nancy. It's just good clean fun." 

"But it's awfully painful." 

"So was your first bit of nooky." 

"Yes, I suppose it's a bit the same." She giggled. "Do you ever put them on 
yourself, to keep in training?" 

I'm stuck. 

Pure fiction. 

Help. 

"Oh sure." I told her glibly. "It makes me horny." 

"And do you...?" 

"Course I do. Handcuffs don't stop a girl reaching her . clit. Not unless 
they're behind her back." 

Her eyes were shining. I hoped I hadn't started something. "Look, you're not 
thinking of writing an article on the sex life of masochists, are you?" 

"It's an idea." she said thoughtfully. "But right now I'm wondering if 
you'll let me put them on you?" "You're not in the scene." 

"No. But you've made it all so interesting. You seem to have such a full 
life. And I don't know when I'll see you again. Please Cathy." 

"Let's sit and sip. We've had a hard day." 

"You can sit and sip just as well in handcuffs." 

"I'd feel silly. It's lovely with Cedric but " 

"You must carry these things for a reason. don't you trust me, Cathy?" 

"If you were like me I'd love it. But your not." 

"Well love it anyway. Just to please me. Pleaseseese?." 

I was stuck with the role. I had to play it. Best keep her happy. 

"O.K." 

"Naked?" 

"What on earth for?" 

"I want to see those lovely marks on you." 

"You'll see them when we go to bed." 

"Don't be mean." 

She was a child. I found myself wanting to please her. I was damn good and 
relieved by how good things were going. I undressed. I'd been naked for 
months. 

Why be shy now? And with a girl! Nancy was fingering the gleaming metal with 
fascinated curiosity. She ran the curved cuff ,round and 'round, delighted 
with its clicks. 

I held out my hand. Nancy captured it in steel, slowly compressing and 
loving every click, click, click, until it was snug Click. Click. Click. 

"It's like a lovely bracelet." 

I held out my other hand. My enraptured companion reached for it, then 
hesitated. 

"Cathy, would you mind?" At the back? 

"Then I couldn't lift my glass." 

More giggles. "I'll lift it for you - real fun." I turned and put my hand 
behind my back. The cold metal felt familiar, so were the clicks, so was 
being handcuffed. The whole damn act was familiar. Once more I was helpless. 

In Nancy's power. 

I scarcely knew her. 

Oh what the hell! 

She almost poured the rest of my drink down my throat. I swallowed 
gratefully. The situation was quaint. It might be fun after all. Better than 
sitting in a hotel room and glooming. 

"What's it feel like to have a slave girl all your own? 

"I'm going to love it, Cathy. Now I'll tie your ankles and go and get 
another bottle. 

Sorry about my poor stock. I've been so damn broke!" 

I let her do it. I told her to take the money from my bag. She romped off in 
a great dither to get back. When she'd gone I flopped over on the bed. She'd 
tied my ankles so damn tight I wasn't going to do any hopping around. In 
about two minutes I was asleep. But it was a short nap. 

He stood at the foot of the bed, eyes popping with approval. Nothing special 
one of a million. Jeans. 

"Where's Nancy?" 

"She'll be right back, go away." 

"No sense going if she's coming that quick." 

"Go anyway." 

"Nice tits." 

"Throw the cover over me." 

"Throw it over yourself." 

"I can't. Look, be a gentleman and go." 

"You can't, can you! Nance' do that to you?" 

"None of your business. Just a game." 

"Mind if I play?" 

It was beastly. I remembered that time I'd awakened to find myself 
spreadeagled, and Cedric looking at my pubic hair. This was worse. I knew 
his type. Every girl knows them. 

"There's nothing to play. If you don't leave, I'll scream." 

"Where'd you get those marks? Not Nance!" 

I glared. 

He gagged me. 

I fought like crazy. But all I could do was flounder. He could control me 
with two fingers. I was fastened but good. Laughing, he used my discarded 
panties, thrusting the stained crotch over my tongue. He tied it in there 
with one of Nancy's nylons. 

"Pity to waste that lovely cunt, honey." 

He untied my ankles. 

Then he raped me. 

He was most competent. After he'd elicited the last gasp from both of us, he 
thoughtfully retied my ankles leaving enough of a length so as to tie them 
back up to my handcuffs. He did it brutally. 

"Can't have you running around, honey." 

He went away. 

He hadn't been gone three minutes before Nancy showed with her bagful of 
bottles. 

At sight of my changed status she gasped. 

"How the hell did you do it?" 

I made the glugging sounds all gagged heroines are supposed to make. I made 
them damn good and negative so that she might drop the fool notion I could 
have done this to myself. She pulled out the gag... 

"I've been raped!" 

"Oh? Who did it?" She sounded politely interested. 

"Please get me out of this hogtie." 

"Don't you like it! You look cute." 

"It's beastly. It's hurting." 

"Oh well, alright. While she struggled with my rapists' knots I put her in 
the picture. 

"Oh, that's Dusty." She sounded relieved. "He often drops in." "Just for a 
spot of rape! " 

"Is that what you'd call it, darling? I'd never have thought of that." 

It was evident there was more to Nancy Dwight than met the eye. One of 
today's moderns. Liberated! 

"Is that all he comes for, to rape you or your guests? I demanded. 

"Mostly. Oh, Cathy, didn't you enjoy it? He's awfully good." 

"He is good. And I didn't enjoy it! You mean you let him come in here any 
time and do that to you for free?" 

"Well, he usually brings a few groceries or a bottle or something." 

"He didn't bring me any groceries." 

"I noticed a bag on the counter as I came through the kitchen. Oh, darling, 
please don't take on so." 

"But I've been raped!" 

"Well, it's only your second time today." 

"That wasn't rape. This was!" 

"You mean because you were tied up." She giggled. "It must have been the 
darndest fun." 

"Nancy!" 

"O.K., O.K. I'm sorry." More giggles. "I suppose it was a bit off-putting 
not being introduced." 

I could have murdered her. She wasn't being funny, or callous. She was just 
being Nancy Dwight. This was a very different girl to the one I'd tied to 
the bench. 

"Untie my ankles please. That bastard tied 'em far too tight." 

"Yes, hasn't he! They look awfully cute, digging away into your skin." 

"Nancy!" 

"Don't bug me, darling. They do look super. Really! But your feet are 
turning purple, so I'll untie them. And, anyway, I want to take you to the 
bathroom." 

"I don't need to go." 

"I'm going to give you a douche." "I'm on the Pill." 

Nancy giggled again. "Not for that, darling." 

I didn't ask the obvious question. I could guess. But I liked the thought of 
water and soap. I was soiled. I followed my surprising hostess and stepped 
obediently into the bath. 

"I can do it myself, Nancy. Take off these handcuffs." 

"No." 

"Please take 'em off. That louse killed my mood." 

"He didn't kill mine. I simply love doing things for you while you're 
helpless. You said I could have this bit of fun." 

I stood ankle deep in hot water, legs apart, while I was ministered to. It 
was not unpleasant. Her fingers were as pushy as the rest of her. I sighed 
and thought of Cedric and the big house where I'd been a slave. I wasn't mad 
at this absurd girl. 

She was a naive bit of femaleness adrift in the city. I let her lead me back 
to the armchair in the living room. But when she got the rope I balked. 

"I don't want my feet tied again." 

"But, darling, it's sort of de rigueur." 

"I don't care. It hurts." 

"I won't tie them as tight as Dusty did. They do look cute and you're not 
going to use them. Please darling?" 

I'm a sucker for a pretty please. Nancy tied my ankles tight enough. I'll 
admit she made a very classy job.. I'm sure my ankles were the best tied 
ones in town. I remembered that precept about: "Oh what a tangled web we 
weave when first we practice to deceive!" I was reaping a real harvest of 
discomfort out of the deception of Nancy Dwight. Don't ever let yourself in 
for acting the masochist. 

"Open up, darling." 

I opened up and swallowed all she'd let me have at one go. The vodka 
repelled my rapist. the girl who was keeping me helpless suddenly popped an 
obvious question. 

"Cathy, how on earth did Dusty get into you with your feet tight together?" 

"He untied 'em. Then tied 'em again after." 

"He didn't do it to you -- at the -- at the --?" 

"No, he didn't. Maybe he'll oblige you next time." 

My irritation and dismay dissipated under the influence of the drinks. The 
chair was lovely and soft so I could bury my shackled wrists and arms in the 
padding. I stuck out my tied feet and shared Nancy's admiration for the neat 
white bands holding them close. 

Nancy Dwight ingenuously admired me. I mean that she admired my breasts and 
my dark triangle and my navel. She couldn't see a lot of my pussy on account 
of having tied my feet so tight. I couldn't separate my thighs, But she took 
inventory of all the rest. It was a bit like having a man look at you naked 
when you didn't want him to. 

"Such a lovely body." she breathed. 

"You're not so bad yourself." 

"Oh, do you think so! I'm glad you like me." 

"Can I have a glass again?" 

She chuckled. "You want to get high. Does my looking at you like this, and 
being helpless, bother you?" 

If I'd been what she thought I was, it would not have bothered me to be in 
this silly spot. So I said, "No, it's lovely." 

"I wish I could get a bang out of being the way -- the way you are." 

"Trade places. See how you like it." 

"No chance!" she wriggled happily. "I've got you for the evening." 

"What shall we talk about?" 

"I was coming to that." Her eyes sparkled. "How'd it be if I invited a 
friend from upstairs?" 

I stiffened in alarm. I'd had enough of Nancy's friends. My negative was 
vehement. 

"But darling. She's a girl. You won't mind a girl?" 

"I don't care. I just don't want to be seen like this by anyone." 

"I'm seeing you and she'd be ever so grateful. It would be something new for 
her too." 

I was about to protest when it occurred to me that Nancy alone might be hard 
to take for a whole evening. She'd want to talk about Cedric and the desires 
I did not possess. so I put on a good front and said O.K. After she'd beamed 
her way out of the apartment I cursed myself for getting into her clutches. 
But it was too late. I could not get out of the snug grip of my handcuffs 
and, for sure, I couldn't untie those tight bands of rope that robbed me of 
my feet. 

The worst was to come. 

Not one girl. 

Three more like Nancy. Bright. Pert. Men just would have loved 'em. I did 
not. 

They sparkled down at me in pure joy. 

"Gosh, Nance, you're lucky!" 

"She's been whipped!" 

"She's been handcuffed." 

"How did you pick her up?" 

"She likes it." Nancy said proudly. 

"You mean for kicks!" The speaker thrust an imperious small hand into the 
softness of my thighs and cupped my puss exploringly. "She's not all that 
wet" 

"I just bathed her. And she's embarrassed." 

"Are you going to keep her?" 

"Don't see how I can. Bit of a drag looking after her." 

"Well keep her!" 

I was sure they would. The way they were looking at me made me into a tasty 
morsel. "I'm just here for the evening." I told them with a nonchalance I 
did not feel. 

"Oh, Nancy, what fun!, Thanks for letting us in on it. Be a sweetie and let 
us have her for a couple of days" 

"You'd better ask her about that." Nancy said, not all that happy with their 
exuberance. 

Three pairs of eager eyes embraced me. "Darling, you'd love us to keep you, 
wouldn't you!" 

"I have to go to work. Sorry. " 

"We'd phone and say you were sick? 

My heart missed a beat. How appallingly easy it would be for them! Handcuff 
a girl's wrists behind her back and she's had it. She becomes a package for 
disposal. 

Unexpectedly it was Nancy who balked. She was miffed by losing initiative. 

"No kidnapping! Be grateful for this evening." 

"Oh, we are! It was a chorus." 

I wished they would sit down and have a drink. But they didn't. They more or 
less lifted me from the chair and stood me upright in full view. My weight 
made my ankles hurt like blazes, the ropes cut. I teetered and did not even 
want to hop. I longed to swat all four of them with a giant hand. 

They arranged their seating so as to enjoy my helpless nudity. Our hostess 
busied herself with bottles I'd paid for. 

"Lovely shape." 

"Wow! 

"Who whipped her?" 

"Her boyfriend." Nancy was back in her chosen role of exhibitor. She 
positively preened. "The darling loves it. Don't you, Cathy?" 

"Only when he does it." I said guardedly. 

"Isn't she gorgeous!" 

"We must buy a pair of handcuffs." 

"And some rope." 

"Tie me first." 

"NO! Me! " 

"You can do that on your own time." Nancy said huffily. 

I resigned myself to a nervous evening. Nancy was coming through as an 
unwitting ally. But it was three to one. I prayed they did not have a whip. 
If this was their first time, they must have read a lot of books. I stood 
there and simmered under their frankly lascivious appraisals. 

"Stick out your tongue, Cathy." 

I missed the true inference. Glad of a diversion, I stuck my tongue out 
rudely at each of them. 

"Ooooo! Lovely!" 

"Isn't she darling!" 

"Can you get it out a bit more?" 

In the middle of striving for that extra inch, it hit me. The little 
bitches! My tongue went back behind angry lips. I glared. 

"She does eat, Nancy?" The query was anxious. 

"I don't know. Ask her." 

They did not bother to ask. I have never seen three maidens strip more 
rapidly. I longed for release. 

"I hope you're good at it, Cathy?" 

I am not a child. I am not naive. I am not unduly shy. I'd done a few 
sixtynines with girls out of curiosity. I was glad I did. It taught me I 
preferred men. It wasn't that I had a distaste for females: I simply got a 
more exciting union from a male. But the prospect of servicing these four 
boisterous damsels was daunting. Besides, who wants to be pushed!" 

"I'm not a lesbian." I said with calm disinterest. 

"But well teach you." 

"No thanks. I know all about it. I don't enjoy." 

"She knows all about it. Goody!" The speaker shone all around. 

I took a desperate gamble. "Oh, O.K., O.K.! Let me loose. I'll play." 

They laughed down my request with the derision they thought it deserved. 

"She wants to get loose." 

"What a hope she's got." 

"Don't trust her." 

Desperately, I looked to Nancy. She was undressing. Her eyes shone. They had 
infected her. I had never felt more abandoned, more naked, or more helpless. 

"You first, Nance. She's yours." 

Pleased as punch, Nancy stepped forward for my martyrdom. But she had 
forgotten something. 

"Nance! Your bottom!" 

"How?" 

"Who?" 

"A man. Never mind." Nancy was flustered. "I was just testing. Don't every 
try it. It's simply awful." 

"You lucky so and so! Bend over. Let's look." 

The exclamations were ecstatic. The striped behind winced under exploratory 
fingers. 

"Did it make you horny?" 

"Did he screw you after?" 

"He screwed her instead." said our hostess with some bitterness. 

"Spread your legs, darling, she can make it up to you" 

Nancy blithely placed a huge cushion down on the carpet and planted her 
striped seat squarely on it. She spread her legs and lay back in sensuous 
anticipation. 

I made my voice severe. "Please forget this. I'm not playing. I am not a 
Lesbian." 

"But you just said!" 

"That was on condition you untied my feet and took off these handcuffs. Be 
sensible. I can't possibly do what you want while I'm fastened like this." 

"Yes, you can. We'll lay you down with your face in her fur." 

"Look! Can't you understand how miserable this is for me! I can hardly 
move." 

"But you like it?" 

"Not any more. I've had enough. You've spoilt it for me. I was just 
expecting a nice evening with Nancy not eating half the girls in town." 

"She doesn't want!" 

They looked at each other in mock dismay. 

"Let's make her want." 

I never had a chance. One sat on my face, another on my breasts while the 
remaining two untied my feet and then tied them again, about a mile apart, 
to the furniture. 

"There you are, darling. You're frightfully lucky. We're all terribly good 
at this." 

I was sure they were. But when the pungent flesh was removed from my person 
I struggled in a frenzy of protest. If only, if only I could get free! Or if 
I hurt myself enough, impress them with my loathing. But it was useless. I 
could scarcely move. 

The handcuffs hurt. I had to thrust my joined hands to one side and lay on 
my arm. 

They thrust the cushion strategically beneath my rear. 

"Cathy, don't be so silly. We're going to make you happy." 

I suddenly realised. the truth of it. All I was going to get was a tongue 
induced orgasm. Why get all worked up! 

I relaxed and. lay still. You could have driven a car up between my legs. 

"That's better. But you do have to promise to lap all four of us after for 
as long as we want?" 

The thought of four cunts staring me in the face was nauseating. "I told 
you." I said wearily. "I'm not going to." 

"She says she won't." 

"We'll change her mind." 

"You first, Nance." 

It was nothing new. I lay as still and as silent as I could under the busy 
tongue. It was a clever tongue, but my mood was negative. It tired and was 
replaced by another, equally avid. It defeated me. Hating every gasp and 
spasm I rendered them the response they sought." 

"Gosh, she sure wasn't in the mood." 

"She'll have to do better than that." 

Another tongue entered me without pause. 

Do I have to tell you! I'm sure I don't! An orgasm can be wonderful. But 
it's an end or should be! Mine wasn't! When it is not an end it becomes 
agony. 

Three pleased smiles looked down and watched my surging struggles against my 
bonds, and listened to my sounds of outrage. Motions and cries that slowly 
subsided into feminine surrender as my flesh became freshly grateful for the 
friction. In the new explosion, one of my feet moved the chair to which it 
was tied. 

They pushed it back and one of them thoughtfully sat in it. A fresh tongue 
went instantly to work. 

"Alright!" My voice was urgent. "I'll do it! I'll do it." 

"She's going to tongue us." 

"Isn't she sweet." 

They untied my feet. Then debated the matter of my control. They compromised 
by hobbling my ankles so I could not kick, but leaving them joined by about 
a foot of rope enabling me to do their bidding without having to be carried. 
I thought of Cedric's slavery with longing. Holding hands, they lined up in 
a giggling row, legs well apart. 

"All ready, darling." 

"You lucky girl." 

"Nibble a bit at each, then move to the next." 

I never had believed girls look all alike down there. They don't. No one 
ever had better chance for comparison than I did right then. Different hair, 
different curls, different folds, different slits! All beckoned enticingly. 
On my knees, I shuffled my tethered way to number one. 

"She's awfully good." Gasp, gasp. 

I was thankful to be given approval. I did not want the things they would do 
to me if I failed. I worked hard and steadily until the gasps became too 
urgent. Then I walked on my knees to number two. 

"I could do a much better job if you'd let me have my hands." I told them 
truthfully. 

"Forget it, darling." 

"Handcuffs make it better." 

"She has to try harder." 

"But I'd still be helpless with tied feet! I can't argue with you with my 
feet like this! 

"Get with it, Sister." 

I sighed. But, at least, I'd rested my tongue. I thrust it questingly into 
number two. 

When bedtime came and the girls departed, kissing me with lips redolent of 
my own musk, Nancy gigglingly refused to unlock the handcuffs. I went to bed 
with her with my hands behind my back. I slept remarkably well and dreamed 
of Cedric who was my Master. 

Chapter Six 

The very air was funeral, the house was as a tomb. I existed in a vacuum, a 
void that ached. Ghosts were everywhere, wraiths of beauty. All of them were 
Cathy. 

I Was surprised by the intensity of loneliness, and of longing. After all, 
she would be back tomorrow! But, of course, that was the rub: Would Cathy 
come back! She had to be nuts if she did. 

Cathy was free. 

I remembered her eyes as she promised. She had turned the hurried moment 
into a most solemn giving of her word. Her pledge. She would butter Nancy up 
until the interfering little bitch had no suspicion left. Then she would 
return and resume her slavery, hold out her hands to be tied. She had made 
her flirting with freedom as logical as she had done the day before. 

But she would never return. Never! It was expecting to too much. 

Paradise lost! 

I roamed about the place, seeing her everywhere. The whole damn house was 
scattered with remembrances. Bits of rope, her anklets, some books she'd 
loved, a bra. I went down to her cell and sat on her cot. I'll swear the air 
was alive, with her scent, the woman-scent no bottle ever spilled. I bloody 
near cried. I did end up dabbing at my eyes with a handkerchief. But it was 
one on which she had dried tears of her own not long ago..so away I went 
again. 

No call that night. I'd hoped there might have been. But there was still the 
morning. 

The telephone rang at ten. Cathy's voice was breathless. Not from urgency, 
but - "Oh Master! It's so good " A pause for heavy breathing. "I've got rid 
of her. I couldn't call before. 

"Who cares! Oh Cathy... you've called now." 

"You thought I wouldn't, didn't you master?" Her laughter was joyous. 

"You're a stupid slave. Run for your life." 

"Do you want me to?" 

"No." 

"Master, I'm calling from a phone booth. I stayed the night with Nancy. 
Where do you want to pick me up?" 

I swear I could feel her vibrations coming over the wire. She was happy. In 
a couple of hours I could have her back in her cell, safely chained. A 
miracle. 

I was scared. 

"Go to the Humbolt." I told her. "Book a room. I'll come to you there, I 
should make it in an hour." 

She picked up the alarm instantly. "Master, what's wrong?" 

"Just me." I said. 

I made it in fifty minutes. The hugs and kisses were pure honeymoon. When 
she opened the door her anxious concern vanished as she saw my face. Her 
arms flew 'round my neck as I lifted her off the floor. There are moments 
when a girl can seem a very light and very fragile thing. I love her. 

"Will you marry me?" I said. 

"Yes." she said. 

I carried her to the bed. 

We made love the rest of the morning. But not before she made me use the 
handcuffs to lock her left ankle to the frame. Having it fastened way over 
there made her pussy a prominent part of the landscape but we did not mind. 

She was more wonderful than ever. 

We actually took time to have lunch. I chose the quiet table in the dining 
room as the best place to tell her. When you're in bed with a naked girl 
it's hard to be serious. 

I was trembling. 

Cathy let me stutter and ramble before helping me out. Her manner became 
soothingly maternal. 

"You want to tell me you screwed a lot of girls before you kidnapped me?" 

"No. It isn't that old favourite." 

"You did it with 'a man." 

"Not that either." 

"A little boy?" 

"No." 

She toasted me with wine. She radiated happiness. I felt a heel. 

"You're not telling me something silly like talking in your sleep or having 
bad breath after eating kumquats." 

"What's a kumquat?' 

"I'm not sure." She grinned. "But it's edible. I'm not sure of anything you 
tell me. 

Come on, Master, out with it." 

"You don't have to call me Master any more." 

"I know that." she said impatiently. "But there's something on your mind. 
Tell me." 

I took a deep breath. "It's this tying up." 

Cathy calmly carried on eating. "So?" 

"It's a part of me. I can't drop it." 

"Who's asking you to!" 

Marvellous, eh? An incredible girl! 

"There's more to it than that. You've put up with it because you had to. But 
I've never really talked to you about it. I mean, sort of clinically." 

"I didn't have to ask you to cuff my ankle to the bed awhile ago. You never 
even thought of it yourself." 

I squirmed. Women are the very devil to deal with. 

Cathy's eyes became very deep and filled with love. "You are an absolute 
idiot of a master." she said between her chewing. "Think I'm stupid! I'd 
have to be stupid if I didn't know by now what it means to you." She paused 
and eyed me earnestly. 

"Look, darling, when we marry I'll make some vows in front of the minister. 
But here's one now: I promise you can tie and chain me all you like. Pop me 
in and out of the cell as often as you wish. And cane my bottom whenever I'm 
bad." She sighed happily. "Have I overlooked anything?" 

I mean, what's a guy to do! 

"Thank you" I said. 

You're welcome. And I'll do it all with love, too. Here Master, try these 
fried zucchinis, they're super." 

"You really mean...?" 

"Oh sure. I'm part addicted. Get on with your lunch before it gets cold." 
She cocked an anxious eye. "Has this answered your question?" 

"It's got me over the hump. But there is something else." 

"No torture chamber and no Nancy." My darling's voice was firm. 

I blurted it out in a rush. "I want to take you to the Templars." 

"We'd have to go back about seven hundred years." 

"Not the Knightly order of the Crusades, Cathy. I only heard of this lot 
about a month ago." 

"What have you in mind for me, Master? Chain mail?" 

"They're a wealthy group who are all like me, more or less. They have a big 
place in the country where they do, authentically, all the things that are 
meaningful to me and a whole lot of their own. It's girls and women and men. 
It's expensive, so there's no rubbish. I want you to meet and talk with 
these people so you'll always know I'm not alone in these things I kidnapped 
you for." 

"But, darling, you don't have to prove a thing." 

"Not for you, Cathy. I have to prove it for me." 

"When do we go?" asked. Cathy. 

"This afternoon." I said. 

She was a very beautiful girl, not quite naked. She stood against the pillar 
as though sculptured, her chains symbolic. They held her wrists loosely 
above her head so that she leant against the marble., her eyes distant in 
some dream of her own. 

"Rather a nice effect, don't you think?" Mr. Dimbleby commented as we stood 
in the foyer. "The girls take turns. Creates atmosphere. Breaks the ice for 
visitors and neophytes." 

I envied Mr. Dimbleby his English assurance. He had relieved me of a 
sizeable cheque as though doing me a favour. But he was a perfect guide., He 
blended. 

Cathy was amused by his suavity. She was looking now at the chained girl 
with intent interest. 

"The chains are absolutely real." said Mr. Dimbleby "She cannot possibly get 
free. 

There are no facsimiles or simulations here." 

I felt Cathy shiver. She was putting herself up there against the column. 

Mr. Dimbleby read her mind. "You would look charming there, Miss Hazlett. We 
may hope for that." 

We were introduced to men as we met them. My money was too new for me to be 
able to match their monied assurance. They were gravely courteous, their 
eyes lingering on Cathy. Wise eyes but never carnal, their interest beyond 
lechery. I could sense Cathy's reaction, a feminine reaction, to their 
projections of male power. 

There were women. The older ones were appraising, not of me, but of the girl 
clinging to my arm. The young ones were exuding camaraderie, seeing in Cathy 
a recruit to their own dedication. The atmosphere was discreet but electric 
with purpose. There were no dilettantes among the Templars. Mr. Dimbleby 
steered us through the polite and interested exchanges with easy 
familiarity. 

"We think the social amenities important. The subject associates share in 
them as a matter of course between their more meaningful involvements." 

Cathy looked up at me and winked. Mr. Dimbleby was precious. She was holding 
on to me very tightly. She was also stifling some sarcasms. I knew! 

"Subject members are not permitted embarrassment. Coyness is interdicted." 
said Mr. Dimbleby. 

We saw his point. The girl stood in the centre of the small room. Her hands 
were tied and raised above her head. She was totally naked. She looked at us 
without curiosity. She had the bored air of someone putting in time. 

"In two hours time she will be whipped." Mr. Dimbleby said pleasantly. The 
rooms were all the same size, though not similarly appointed. They were 
surprisingly pleasant compartments considering what took place in them. 

"Subject associate, Mr. Dimbleby. Just what does it mean?" Cathy asked. 

"It refers to our more youthful female Templars, Miss Hazlett. Their wish or 
function is to serve. They are therefore subject." 

"What had that girl done to deserve a whipping?" 

Mr. Dimbleby looked pained. His glance reproved. "Come, come, Miss Hazlett, 
you are not that naive surely?" 

"Oops sorry! I'm just learning. It is permitted to ask questions, isn't it?" 

"At this stage we strive for frankness and informality, Miss Hazlett. We 
also endeavour to innovate, as witness here." 

This one was far from bored. She wore a silly but cute little jacket thing, 
open at the front so that her breasts were never really concealed. It 
totally failed to hide anything below her hips. One of her feet had been 
raised and tied to a parallel bar. 

She stood unhappily on the other. Her wrists were crossed and tied behind 
her back. She turned to us with a hope that swiftly died. I had a feeling 
she came close to pleading for help. 

"An original afternoon." Mr. Dimbleby said with approval. 

"She doesn't look a bit happy." Cathy said doubtfully. "I know I'd get 
awfully tired standing like that." 

Our guide and mentor turned his august attention upon the hapless captive. 
"And how is your afternoon progressing, my dear?" 

His "dear" swallowed a couple of times before answering. "I'm, I'm awfully 
tired, Mr. 

Dimbleby." She twisted her tied hands and fluttered her jacket. "Having to 
stand like this it's awkward." 

"I am sure it is, Daffodil." Mr. Dimbleby agreed heartily. "Perhaps you 
would like to ask me for a conditional release?" 

The poor girl positively recoiled. "Oh no, Mr. Dimbleby. Thank you." 

When we got back out in the passage, Cathy bravely inquired: "What's a 
conditional release, Mr. Dimbleby?" 

Our fount of knowledge cleared his throat portentously. "One might describe 
it as a safety measure, or perhaps an alternative course, Miss Hazlett. The 
young lady we have just left could, had she so wished, asked me to release 
her on the understanding of a different situation at another time being 
imposed. She preferred not to do so. " 

"Well, I suppose the alternative would be a lot worse?" 

"The imposition of conditional consequences lies in the discretion of the 
young lady's sponsor, Miss Hazlett." intoned Mr. Dimbleby sonorously. "It is 
usually deemed proper for it to be more severe than the one rejected." 

"I'll just bet it is!" Cathy observed gloomily. "But honest now, is her name 
really Daffodil?" 

"It is the privilege of any sponsor to rename his subject as he sees fit. 
The new names are often fanciful." 

"And these sponsors, what's their relation to these poor girls?" 

"I do wish you would not refer to our subject members as 'Poor girls,' Miss 
Hazlett." 

Mr. Dimbleby had his pained look doing double duty. "They are highly 
privileged young women enjoying an emotional transcendence impossible 
elsewhere. Their relation to their sponsors is the same as your own with Mr. 
Hollings." 

Cathy looked suitably squelched. But I was beginning to find Dimbleby hard 
to take, and to wonder if The Templars were really a good idea. The next 
room helped a bit. 

The nude girl was tied to a post. She was exquisite. So was the rope. There 
was a great deal of rope. But it had been drawn into her flesh with such 
consummate skill that it in no way obtruded upon her basic loveliness. There 
were plural strands cutting into wherever there was a muscle or sinew she 
might have tensed against her bondage. 

"A nice blending of aestheticism and authority." said Mr. Dimbleby. 

It sure was. It was too beautiful for any neat bits of phrase old Dimbleby 
might spout. I looked down at Cathy. She and I were thinking the same thing, 
seeing her naked and secured to the post instead of this girl whose eyes 
followed us in mute question. I could feel her trembling. 

We did a slow circle. Like you might round a statue in a museum. The girl's 
hands had been crossed and tied behind the post where the thin rope crossed 
and crlss- crossed about her wrists so that the whole effect was the same as 
a smooth heavy weld. As though to demonstrate her impotence against the 
cords, the girl splayed open her fingers, spreading, and flexing them in a 
tiny flutter of the only movement she was allowed. It was pathetic and 
poignant and demandingly erotic. 

Ankles, knees, waist and shoulders even a crossed bisection of her breasts 
... but there was an exquisite cruelty. Two strands came from her waist and 
disappeared back between the junction of her thighs. They parted her pubic 
hair and wholly entered the soft plump orifice of her sex. They served no 
purpose in her immobility but would keep her constantly in pain. 

"Desiree's sponsor is an artist." The British voice droned. He often takes 
upwards of an hour to rope his subject for the effect he seeks. You will 
note the careful placement and even tension of each band. Tell us, Desiree, 
how long have you been against the post?" 

"All day, Mr. Dimbleby. I have to stay here until evening." 

"But you must me hurting in...in...in, that place!" Female sympathy welled 
from Cathy's exclamation. 

The lovely eyes mocked us. "Of course I'm hurting. Isn't that the name of 
the game!" 

"The stricture to which you refer, Miss Hazlett, has, I understand some 
feminine compensations." Mr. Dimbleby offered diffidently. 

"But not when it's that tight!" Cathy knew whereof she spoke. 

"You're new, or neophytes, aren't you." The captive voice was faintly 
amused. 

"Maybe visitors? Were you thinking of joining?" Her eyes were on Cathy. 

"Yes" 

"Then don't!" 

It was a small thunderbolt. I could almost see our pompous friend reel under 
the impact. "I fear your sponsor would not condone such a sentiment, 
Desiree." 

"Don't tell him then. Oh please, Dimbleby, don't. He'll do something beastly 
to me." 

"Kindly refrain from diminutives in addressing me. I shall certainly report 
your unpardonable lapse." 

You could see her wilt. Her voice became humble. "I'm sorry. Can't a girl be 
allowed one mistake?" 

"Your mistake was in becoming a Templar, Desiree. As I recall, your pledge 
does not expire for a couple of months yet. Perhaps in that time..." 

We were ushered from the room, followed by the stricken gaze of a girl who 
could not move. 

"I must apologise." Mr. Dimbleby said smoothly. "Desiree's was an 
unpardonable rudeness. I expect she must be finding today's imposition 
exceptionally trying." 

Cathy has heated. "I bet she is! The guy didn't need to drag those ropes up 
into her" 

"Please, please, Miss Hazlett!" Mr. Dimbleby was anxiously warding off a 
four letter word. "If you will come this way I am sure you will find the 
next subject amusingly diverting." 

The old hypocrite was right. Diverting was the word. The girl stood inside a 
barred cage. Just enough room for her to stand, just enough for her to lay 
down. She must have heard us coming. She was clutching a couple of bars and 
watching the door. Cute as all get out. But that was only the half of it. 

She wore a gag, an expensive looking thing of shining chrome padlocked at 
the back of her neck. It was the only thing she did wear. It grotesquely 
accentuated her nudity. 

"This dear child is reducing." 

Dimbleby was back to normal. He noted our puzzlement. 

"Undine's sponsor believes she put on weight. I am unable to discern this 
myself, but she is his property. She has also been inclined to chatter. He 
has therefore killed two birds with one stone. She is spending a week in the 
cage and is fed only juices, imbibed orally, through this unique gag which 
inhibits and reproves her tedious loquacity." He turned a courteous 
attention upon the captive. "Are you enjoying the gag, my dear?" 

Undine shook her head vigourously. But her eyes twinkled. 

"And can you remove it?" 

Shake, Shake. 

"Can you escape from the cage?" 

Another silent negative. 

"Tell our visitors how long you have been in there." 

Undine held up four fingers. 

Well, it takes all kinds! Since we could not talk, we did not say anything. 

"Our next subject is named Drusilla." Dimbleby informed. "Her sponsor is not 
imaginative: a most conservative man. In this imposition he has made but one 
concession to originality, a small distress that, I personally find 
unrewarding." 

Drusilla stood naked in a pillory. A pillory evidently designed solely for 
females. Its yoke fitted her so snugly at wrists and neck as to preclude its 
use on a man. She looked up at us without hope and offered a wan smile." 

"A charming young woman." Mr. Dimbleby approved. "A true Templar." 

The true Templar's bare feet stood unhappily on what I took to be her 
sponsor's one original concept. It was a. metal plate of a dimension beyond 
which she could not step. Its surface offered the feminine sole as ugly an 
assortment of small knobs and points as one would hope to see. No inch of it 
gave Drusilla's foot a painless resting place. 

"The flesh is not pierced." Dimbleby informed kindly. 

"I still think it's horrid." said Cathy. 

"My dear, will you reassure our young friend?" 

Drusilla raised her head awkwardly within its imprisonment and gave Cathy a 
quite genuine smile. "I've had a lot worse than this." she said brightly. 
"It's a bit hard on the feet. But we have to expect a bit of discomfort, 
don't we." 

I beat Dimbleby to the punch. "Spoken like a true Templar." I said. 

"You men!" said Cathy. 

We waved and went. Drusilla did not wave back. 

The next room was empty. Mr. Dimbleby fixed me with a stem eye. "I am 
beginning to wonder if Miss Hazlett is Templar material, Mr. Hollings. 
Certain remarks she has made..." 

Cathy answered for me. "I'm sorry Mr. Dimbleby. I'm flippant." 

"Flippancy is a fault we can cure, Miss Hazlett. We pride ourselves on its 
treatment." 

"I'm sure you do." 

"I must deplore the tone of that response." 

"What do you use? Hot irons and pincers?" 

Dimbleby winced. He bestowed the full weight of his censure on me. "I 
suggest, Mr. 

Hollings, that I allot you a suitable room and that you use it to correct 
this subject's attitudes." 

"Ohhhh! Mr. Dimbleby you want to watch me get my bottom caned!" 

"I would suggest a more stringent measure, Miss Hazlett." 

"Has the room got a nice rack, and a thumbscrew, and an Iron Maiden, Mr. 

Dimbleby?" 

I remembered my first days with Cathy. Her sarcasms had faded under my cane 
and my whips. This idiot man had given them rebirth. I felt like popping a 
few myself. I wished Id never brought Cathy to the place. "Behave yourself." 
I told her severely, and hoped the old boy didn't see me wink. 

"Forgive me, master." 

The 'Master' seemed to brace our companion and restore his faith. He curtly 
assented to my suggestion that we carry on. 

"I have no wish to bore Miss Hazlett." he declaimed coldly. "We will confine 
our inspection to a few of the more interesting subjects." 

Cathy kept a penitent silence. 

The girlish face we next beheld turned to us with an expression of mixed 
emotions easily understandable considering her circumstances. She was 
seated, bare, upon a low bench. Her widespread feet were firmly locked into 
a pair of old fashioned stocks. And there was something else. 

It's funny about B & D, and goodness knows there's no one loves it more than 
me, but there are times when I have to laugh. This was one of those times. 
Mind you, I don't see why we always have to be portentous with heavy 
breathing and maybe an erection. But then, I'm talking about it from the 
male point of view. For the girls, I guess it's not often exactly hilarious. 

Anyway, old sourpuss's latest exhibit had her hands tied behind her back. 
Nothing remarkable: just that she couldn't use 'em. And her feet sure were 
wide apart. They were as neat and snug in their wooden yoke as Drusilla's 
had been. Between her thighs was a dog. A busy dog. Boy, was that hound 
busy! He spared us only a short disinterested glance and then returned to 
his serious employment. He was a noisy eater. 

Cathy was a flash of motion. In an instant she had that pooch by his tail 
and dragged him back from his preoccupied task to where she could deliver a 
well aimed kick that sent him down the passage in yowling disarray. She 
turned an indignant face upon our guide. 

"The least you could do is keep the door shut." 

"But my dear young -- " 

"Do you realise what that rotten dog was doing?" 

Dimbleby's face was a fine magenta. Whilst spluttering indignation kept him 
mute, the captive in the stocks came to everybody's rescue. 

"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry. But I'm afraid that dog is part of this act. He 
belongs." 

Cathy was outraged. "You mean you enjoy it!" 

But Dimbleby was back on the ball. "This young woman is sentenced to a day 
of canine attention. May I remind you." 

"You mean he was put in here on purpose to lick that poor girl's cunt! Don't 
you realise he could drive her nuts!" 

"Some degree of sensory tumult is the intent." 

"But he could go on licking for an hour." 

"He does, darling." came the tired, but now more faintly amused, voice from 
the stocks. "Then they take him away and give me a fresh one. I've lost 
track of my orgasms. I think it's seventeen. I'm pooped." 

Quiet, you vulgar snippet!" Dimbleby was outraged. "How dare you!" 

"Please don't be angry, Mr. Dimbleby. The young lady's only trying to be 
kind." 

Captive eyes focused on me. "Perhaps, sir, you'd be good enough to see if 
you can find that dog. I'm afraid I'm supposed to have him." 

You see what I mean. I was having the damnedest time not to howl with 
laughter. 

Instead, I went back down the passage. When I found the dog he gave, me a 
reproachful look, but followed me back willingly enough. When reintroduced 
to his interrupted task he resumed operations, but it was plain to see his 
heart was no longer in his work. 

Mr. Dimbleby viewed the lacklustre performance. 

"I will attend to his replacement." he said. 

"Don't bother." Cathy said. 

"You're all awfully sweet." said the girl in the stocks. 

"I wish I could help." Cathy said. 

"I expect we'll see you again." I said. 

"I think it most improbable." said Mr. Dimbleby. 

It was now a bit like being escorted by a super battleship. Distant, cold, 
implacable. 

Dimbleby's assessment of our social inferiority was all too clear. His 
British heart was probably thinking longingly of Old School Ties. But he did 
his duty. 

"We have here a process of attrition." 

We sure did! She was hanging by her wrists, her arms separate and apart. She 
was one more subject who didn't look all that happy. She opened her eyes to 
have a look at us but, seeing Dimbleby, closed them again and retreated into 
some world of her own. 

"Her wristlets are softly padded. They are human." 

It was the voice of the curator of a museum. We were the rabble. I looked at 
the lovely strained nakedness in breathless reverence. It was easy to guess 
she had hung there a long time. Cathy squeezed my arm. She had been 
suspended, herself, like that not so terribly long ago. 

"A most conventional imposition. We add a thoughtful addition. Perhaps, Mr. 

Hollings, you would be so kind..." 

Three things hit me. The girl's eyes came wide open in alarm. Upon her 
ankles were leather bands, on the sides of which were rings. Below her 
dangling toes and a bit to one side were a number of small canvas bags, 
presumably containing sand. From the fastening of each rose a hook. 

O.K., I'm a bastard. But this was closer to B & D than half of what we'd 
been shown. 

And it was one of those deals where if I didn't do it someone else would. I 
stepped forward. 

"Don't you you dare!" 

If Dimbleby was a battleship, Cathy had become at least one of the more 
heavily armed cruisers. She planted. herself squarely in front of the pile 
of bags. I'll swear Dimbleby groaned in anguish. 

I don't know how well I've told this. But you'll have gotten the idea I 
wasn't all that happy with what I'd got us into. I sure wasn't, In front of 
the girl I was going to marry, I felt like an asshole. 

"You should both be ashamed." Cathy stormed. 

Cathy has taught me something that, once, I did not know. It is that girls 
relate only to a type and to a few. With the right male they can relate to B 
& D. With the rest it's an absolute "no-no". I realised the missing link in 
what we'd been seeing. Girls suffering without the sustenance of a man to 
sublimate their anguish. Goodness knows where their men were, they were 
obviously absent. For very sure none of these poor kids were going to relate 
to good old Dimbleby. They needed courage. 

They possessed courage, or fortitude, or maybe dedication. I had to hand it 
to 'em. 

They were doing fine. Not a scream. Not a plea, a bad word. So O.K. these 
girls were Templars. But the atmosphere was not the one I'd expect. Not 
Cathy's cup of tea anyway from Sunday. Once more it was the subject herself 
who saved the day. 

"I have to have them." The 'quiet feminine voice was resigned. "Please Miss, 
whatever your name is, don't make a fuss. Thanks, but let them do it to me!" 

Poor Cathy! Betrayed, and by one of her own sex! The flag of her crusade 
slipping down into the mud. I held out my hand to her, but she sniffed and 
stood once more by my side. I hung a bag of sand on each of the ringed 
ankles. 

"I am pleased some sanity remains." Dimbleby was sounding the Last Post. 

The tautly suspended girl once more closed her eyes. 

Dimbleby was, dramatist enough, to keep silent and when he ushered us in and 
stood to one side, an impresario confident and aloof. 

I had sudden sense of coming home. The impressions of the other rooms faded. 

Here was beauty! In the girl we looked at now we saw the dream. Cathy's hand 
tightened on my arm. 

She was a picture of utter simplicity, bound naked to a cross, her out 
stretched arms held against the crosspiece by leather bands upon her wrists. 
The taut concavity of her centre had been circled again and again by 
carefully placed ropes, which themselves were cinched between the small of 
her 'back and the wooden upright. Her feet were shackled loosely. That was 
all. 

It was enough. 

For many, it is hard to know it it is the configuration or the naked girl 
that speeds the pulse and catches at the breath. But not for me! I have 
always known it was the girl. What she is, and the manner of her response 
make the bonds that hold her a secondary concern. Tie Cathy and tie Nancy 
and you'll have the proof. 

Her head was sweetly bowed. We may have woken her from sleep. From the 
placid serenity of her features she may well have dreamed. She raised her 
head, blinked, and smiled at us as though being bound naked to a cross was a 
most natural state for girls. Then her head slowly inclined again as she 
returned to happiness. She was drugged, but only with fulfilment. 

"Your approval restores my faith." 

Dimbleby's voice was stiff. We were forgiven. The faintest of smiles 
flickered on the captive's lips and then was gone. 

"It's the loveliest thing I've ever seen." Cathy was awed. 

"Please look you fill," Dimbleby said. "You will then find me in my office." 

We did not see him go. The room contained the three of us in peaceful 
silence. We had no need to speak. To rouse the captive girl and question her 
would be to despoil a mood. All of her proclaimed joy. She could move but 
little, but from her emanated heart's desire. After several minutes we 
tiptoed out as from a church silent in prayer. 

I wish I'd realised what we were going to. 

Your cheque is, in any case, forfeit." Dimbleby said. 

'I understand that." I said. 

"I regret we have failed to please." Dimbleby said. 

"We're sorry we failed to please too." I said. 

"Here, hold on!" Cathy exclaimed. "Cut the gloom. If some of these Templar 
bastards give their girls a rough time, I suppose it's their own business. 
Sorry I boiled over." 

"The word 'bastard', Miss Hazlett!" 

"Oh alright! Sorry 'bout that too. I know I'm inclined to fly off the 
handle." 

"Perhaps because you are. not properly secured to it, Miss Hazlett." 

Cathy giggled and looked at me. "Am I properly secured, darling?" 

"I deem Mr. Hollings biased on the question." 

Irony oozed from Dimbleby like small drops of acid. His disapproval of Cathy 
was patent. He regarded me as a weak master whose slave girl was thoroughly 
spoiled. 

"Cathy and I have our own methods." I said. 

"They appear to have failed." 

He was too damn much! Even with me around, I just wasn't going to subject 
Cathy to this place. I felt an urgent wish to take her home and start a 
large family. I stood up and offered her my hand. 

"Sit down, Mr. Hollings." 

I sat down. Damn Dimbleby! He had that way with him. 

"We will not impede your departure, Mr. Hollings. It is Miss Hazlett who 
needs us." 

"Not on your life!" I was out of my chair like a shot. 

"Oh, do sit down, darling. All that lovely money we should at least hear 
what Mr. 

Dimbleby proposes." 

Already she was thinking of our family finances. My heart glowed. We would 
drop in at a Safeway on the way home and buy a huge roast. I looked at her 
with love. 

"It is very simple." Mr. Dimbleby said. "You go, she stays." 

Simple! Good gosh! I was trying to think of a better word, a word to 
demolish him with, when Cathy came up with one of those feminine kickers. 

"What would you do with me, Mr. Dimbleby: "Excise your flippancy. Instil 
humility." 

"Oh dear! Would it be painful?" 

"Nothing is achieved without travail, Miss Hazlett." 

"I'd get my bottom beaten?" 

Dimbleby sighed, a man abused and battered by vulgarity. "I would not have 
chosen that term, Miss Hazlett. But yes, that and other refinements." 

"Such as?" 

"I reject interrogation. Really!" 

"Not racks and thumbscrews?" 

"Please don't be absurd." 

I was feeling left out. After all, it was my cheque. "Look here." I said. 
"I'm not..." 

"Oh, do dry up, darling. Mr. Dimbleby and I are reaching an understanding." 

"Mr. Hollings, do you condone ?" 

"Of course he does, Mr. Dimbleby. We're going to be married." 

Dimbleby closed his eyes. Perhaps he was praying. "You require a parson, not 
a Templar, Mr. Hollings." His voice was icy. 

"You're right." I said. "Let's go." I rose. 

"Oh, darling, do please sit still." 

Cathy sounded as testy as the mother of triplets, all with dirty diapers. 
There was something in her voice that made me relapse. She was hot on some 
trail of her own. 

"Look, darling." she said earnestly. "You wanted me to come here, so I'm 
here. If we walk out mad we'll have accomplished nothing. We'll go home and 
the thought in your mind will still be there. I want to get rid of it. Let 
me." 

"But you hated most of what we've been shown!" 

"Blame it on Women's Lib. I loved the last." 

"A triumph of Reason." Dimbleby said, sarky as hell. "I don't want you 
hurt." I said. 

"Will I be hurt, Mr. Dimbleby?" 

"You will not be damaged, Miss Hazlett." 

"There you are, darling. Stop worrying." 

"How long?" I said. 

"I suggest a month, Mr. Hollings." 

"Then I'll come back to you the bestest girl!" 

"I don't like it." I said. 

"We could not care less." Dimbleby said. 

"That's settled then." Said Cathy. 

There were a few details. Here and there through them I'd look at Cathy and 
say: "To hell with this!" But it was like trying to stem the tide. The House 
of the Templars flowed over me, drowning doubts and disaffection. Cathy had 
become dedicated. It was as though she was going through a door to become a 
nun and lost forever to the world. I felt redundant as all get out. 

My feelings were salved a bit by the girl who came in answer to Dimbleby's 
ring. She was nice. Her greeting was warm. The way she looked at Cathy set 
my mind at rest. 

This girl was happy and in expensive clothes. She exuded normalcy in a 
scented feminine wave. She stood, smiling, as Cathy clung and we kissed. At 
the door she stopped purposely so they could turn and Cathy blow me one more 
kiss. 

Then they were gone. 

Oh damn! If only I'd known! 

Chapter Seven 

She said she'd been renamed Delphine. She made me undress. Then she put the 
bracelets on my wrists. There was a whole box-full of the bracelets. She 
said they were terribly expensive and each was individual to the girl who 
wore them. They locked on and no one knew where the key was until the day 
the girl left and they went back in the box. They were quite heavy and she 
found a pair that fitted me snug as could be. Each had a ring. When she 
pushed the rings together they snapped into each other. She invited me to 
get them loose. I couldn't. It seemed crazy that I couldn't. But there was 
just no way! She did it for me and told me it was just the girls who had no 
sponsor who wore the bracelets. 

It seemed Mr. Dimbleby did not approve of handcuffs. He said they were 
plebeian and not quite respectable. Templar standards were high. I asked her 
if she had whip marks under her dress and she said yes of course she had. 
She smiled readily. I liked her. In between thinking of my master I liked 
her a lot. 

It hadn't been easy for me to go through the door and leave him on the other 
side. I made it look like it was easy, but it wasn't. I knew if I looked sad 
or scared he'd kill his big experiment. I was sad and scared but I wanted to 
go through with what we started. I wanted to get married to man without 
hangups. Cedric had taught me slavery, I wasn't worried about keeping him 
happy that way. But he had a guilt complex over me: as though I'd be getting 
into something I did not understand. I did not think there was anything 
about what he'd made me do that I did not understand perfectly. But 
still...I'm female and curious, "With no sponsor, you'll be sort of 'at 
large'." Delphine explained. "That means any man can take you. The first few 
days here are awfully difficult. It's a good thing you've been whipped as 
much as I can see you have. A lot of those marks, are quite recent, aren't 
they." 

"Will I... will they... oh damn, will I be screwed?" 

"Yes. Does it bother you?" 

"Noo, but I thought there was none of that here?" 

"You know men, Cathy." She grinned. "When they punish us they get the 
darndest erections - can't blame 'em really." 

"Does Mr. Dimbleby?" 

Delphine giggled. "No, not him! Anyway, I don't think he can get it up. He 
professes to think it vulgar. But he sure does enjoy watching while a girl 
gets a bad time. He never whips me but he likes to stand there approvingly 
like a sort of High Priest." 

"Is there some sort of initiation?" 

"Not really. But you probably won't like what happens now." She turned me 
about and snapped my bracelets so they were joined behind my back. They made 
me as helpless as handcuffs had ever done. "Now we'll go out and meet the 
family." 

"I've had some introductions." 

"Not naked, you haven't. We're all different girls without our clothes." She 
paused awkwardly. "Look, darling, you have to be nice to everyone. We get 
punished if we're not. And we are punished for sarcasm and wisecracks. 
Anyone can do what they damn well please with us and we have to pretend we 
like it. Half the time we do of course. You are into B & D, aren't you.?" 

"I was kept prisoner and enslaved for months." 

"You're lucky. It's the very devil for girls who start out cold. There 
actually are a few. The men lap 'em up like virgins." Her face clouded. 
"There are some ripe bastards out there. I can't shield you. My status is 
the same as yours. Some guy may grab me directly we go out. All he has to do 
is close my bracelets. But there's one good thing: with those welts on your 
skin, most won't bother. But if your back or behind were bare white it 
wouldn't be five minutes before you were triced up." 

Naked in a public place. 

No hands. 

Oh golly! 

The Templars came in all kinds. Some were nice. Some prodded me like I was a 
cow. One chap insisted on looking at my teeth. Another made me bend over so 
he could push a finger up my rectum. I realised I was being tested. Gosh, 
was I humble and polite! I wondered if my blush would ever wear off. It was 
almost no time before some fellow took Delphine by the hand and led her 
away. She looked at me helplessly and I was on my own. 

I'd be whipped. 

Or worse! 

We saw each other the moment he came in the door. One of those instant 
recognitions of someone you have never seen before. He strode to me as 
though by assignation. 

"New today?" 

"Yes, Master." 

"Part broken, eh?" 

"Yes, Master." 

He excluded the rest. I was for him only. He gathered my hair into a taloned 
hand and jerked my head this way and that, scrutinising my features, turning 
me full face and profile. Then, at arm's length, he caresses my breasts and 
belly. My sex received the individual attention of a grasping hand. 

"Why aren't you wet?" 

"No one has made me so, Master." 

He was not young, maybe fifty. Tall, big boned, a craggy face, his eyes deep 
and private beneath brutal brows. He used few words, shooting them at me in 
muted staccatos. 

"You know why you are here?" 

"To be punished, Master." 

He permitted me a half smile. "What else can a man do with a girl!" 

"He can love her, Master." 

He shrugged. "They are one and the same." 

His intent eyes never left me, but his thoughts seemed absently elsewhere. I 
sensed his vision of me, screaming. I shivered. 

"Frightened?" 

"Yes, Master." 

"So you should be, come." 

He propelled me, his hand grasping my hair as though I might seek escape. I 
was scarce aware of faces, but carry an impression that none were curious. 
Perhaps they turned discreetly from a slave girl about to be thrashed. Or 
was I now a 'subject'! I supposed I was. 

"What's your name?" 

"Cathy, Master. Or Catherine." 

He stopped our purposeful march, jerking my head, turning me to be once more 
assessed. 

'Wrong for you. You're a natural Elayne. Elayne is a slave's name. 
Understand me?" 

"Yes, Master. I am Elayne." 

"Not always this tractable, are you?" 

"No, Master." 

"What's your fault?" 

"I am flippant and sarcastic, Master." 

"Humph, I'll deal with it!" 

We resumed our march. 

The room was well appointed, more so than most. He released my bracelet 
rings and seated himself comfortably. 

"Lay out the crops and and canes." 

I sought and found the wicked things and laid them on the floor for his 
approval. 

"Which of them do you. wish to be thrashed with?" 

I picked the least painful and proffered it. 

"Honest choice. Put it away." . 

I put it back where I found it. Following his pointing finger, I knelt where 
we could both examine the things he would use to mark my skin. He discussed 
with me the relative venom of each. 

"What are you ,Elayne?" 

"I am a slave, Master." 

"Whose?" 

"His name is Cedric Hollings, Master." 

"Get me a whip, Elayne." 

I found one of the hated things and had scarce placed it in his hand before 
it slashed across my shoulders and then my thighs. I screamed and fled. The 
whip followed, cutting me wherever my panic turned. 

"Kneel." 

Trembling and sobbing I knelt as before. 

"Whose slave, Elayne? 

"Your slave, Master." 

It had been thus always. 

He was in no hurry to whip me. I was sent for drinks and found my way as 
best I could, none halting or querying my quest. One of the stray girls 
helped and whispered wisdom. I adored my bracelets and was scared to death 
of them. Once more I knelt. Proffering the tiny tray. 

"May it please you, Master." 

"You please me. Kneel as before. You may drink." 

His talk was mostly questions. From them I gleaned his view of Cedric my 
first master, as a callow youth. In his eyes no doubt he would be. I dared 
not protest. 

The stripes from his whip still scorched my skin. 

"Has he not whipped your cunt?" 

"No, Master. 

"I will remedy that too. But with the proper tool." 

"Thank you, Master." 

"No sarcasms?" 

"I fear you, Master." 

"And your favourite punishment?" 

"I have no favourite, Master. I wish none of them." 

"There is a reason you are here." 

I told him my story. All of it. He listened and was amused. It was a child's 
tale told to an adult. In the middle of it he sent me for drinks . He sipped 
quietly as I spoke of slavery and love. I gulped my potion between 
paragraphs. His comment was brief. 

"It begins today, Elayne." 

"Today, Master?" 

"Stand beneath the bar." 

Breathless I stood. The Templars had things easy. One wrist ring snapped to 
one end, its fellow to the other. A motor whirred until I stood upon my 
toes, "You have been caned thus before, Elayne?" 

"Yes, Master - often." 

"The boy had sense. Your breasts and pubes would be wasted on a bench." 

"The cane hurts more upon the bench, Master." 

"Did he not score you with a crop and draw your blood." 

"A crop, Master. But never to cut my skin." 

"I will attend it another time. The instrument is not here." 

"Thank you, Master." 

"Glad, aren't you that it's not to hand?" 

"Forgive me, Master." 

"It starts now, Elayne. Your most bitter pain." 

I did not answer. But looked back fearfully as he made his choice. Why oh 
why was I here when I need not have been! I was stupid, flirting with fire, 
wanton. 

Nostalgically I though of Cedric and The Humbolt and our home. I was a fool, 
an idiot girl wading into something beyond her depth! 

He thrashed me without mercy. Bitter, bitter blows across the ripeness of my 
cheeks and thighs. The cane he had chosen was alive, a hateful limber 
cruelty cutting me from hip to hip. 

I did not scream. I cannot tell you why, other than as a measure of this 
man's total possession of me. It seemed implicit that I should not scream. A 
thing understood between the two of us. Our first collusion. Instead, I 
writhed, I contorted. My legs flailed so that I feared he would surely tie 
my ankles. But he did not. It is a pretty sight to see a naked girl display 
her limbs in agony. 

Suddenly it stopped. A hand thrust apart my burning thighs and grasped my 
sex. It squeezed and kneaded until I moaned. Its owner came and stood before 
me and held up the wetness he had garnered from my swollen lips. He made me 
clean his hand with my tongue. His male skin had a potency of flavour 
drowning the taste of me. He took his hand from my mouth while I still would 
have been content to lick it. 

My thrashing continued. 

After a century of pain I was set free, my loins ablaze. "Crawl!" 

I crawled to where he sat. I was sobbing and uncaring of degradation. 

"You know what to do." 

I kissed his shoes. Again and again my lips sought the leather. I wanted no 
more of that cane. 

"Wash my feet." 

I paused at what seemed a strange request. But looking up at him, I knew 
what I must do. Feverishly, I removed his shoes and socks. Hating myself, I 
took his big toe in my mouth and sucked as though privileged. 

"No flippancy's, Elayne?" 

"No, master." 

He waited until I had sucked and licked his feet as clean as they could ever 
be. 

When I retied the last lace, he said bluntly: "Ask me to fuck you." 

His cane had taken my courage. But I looked up in dismay. "Using that word, 
Master?" 

"Now." 

"Please fuck me, Master." 

"Where?" 

Inwardly I squirmed. "Where it may please you, Master." 

"Name the places." 

I named them. 

He used them all - all three. 

That night he took me to a small stone chamber and collared me so that my 
neck was tethered to the wall by six feet of chain above the tiny cot. He 
left without a word. I thought yearningly of Cedric and cried myself to 
sleep. 

A whip cut my skin. 

A month! 

Ravished. 

He was called Ravel. The Templars ignored me, treating me as his. Nothing 
was said, but he took me for his own. I was both frightened and fascinated 
by a treatment more ruthless than I had ever known. He whipped my skin and 
pierced my sex with a dark intent purpose that left me nothing of myself. 
When my despair approached hysteria he would suddenly be kind. His favourite 
relaxation was to affix my bracelets as for a whipping, and then to sit 
before me ten feet distant as I stood upon my toes. Cringingly expectant, I 
would await the lash that did not come. 

His eyes would devour me all the time whilst intermittently he would talk. 

"Elayne, do I pleasure you?" 

"Master, you are incredible." 

I had no need to lie. His virility was such as legends are made of. My 
violations followed my thrashings to take me to a peak of sensitivity and 
out beyond into a dark world of screams and ecstatic agonies. He had the 
power to keep me thus for hours on end to leave me limp and devoid of will. 
Loving and hating and lost. 

"You are looking forward to the crop that will mark you for life?" 

"No, Master." 

Three fearful lashes with the cane, When would I learn! In among my moans he 
tossed my cue. 

"Try again, Elayne." 

"I want you to mark me for life with your crop, Master." 

He was erratic and unpredictable. I never knew what the night would bring. A 
cell. 

A dungeon. Or simply abandoned at large to find my own resting place. My 
wristlets might or might not be locked. Twice I managed to spend a 
comfortable and happy night with Delphine. At night Ravel went away. He was 
a mystery. 

He made a big production out of the event he had primed me to fear. He told 
me it would happen. Then fastened me in his favourite pose, stretched and on 
my toes. he drank as he talked to me, but would give me none. He savoured my 
shivering fear. I knew him well enough by then not to plead. 

He had it in a slender case which he placed upon the bench and opened before 
my cringing gaze. He fingered the strange thin strip of whalebone or 
whatever it was fashioned from with love. His eyes glowed and his fingers 
flexed and tested the extraordinary suppleness that was neither crop nor 
whip but a creation all his own. By the time he turned to me I was 
breathless. 

At such a time I should have though of Cedric and the warm normalcy I had 
turned my back upon. But I did not. In the night and in the morning I cursed 
my folly often but when in the presence of Ravel my awareness was for him 
alone. He absorbed me by his strength and unnamed preoccupation with the 
enslavement and agonies of girls. I learned I was not his first. But, while 
we were together, none existed save myself. 

"Ask for it." 

How delicious his cruelty! How well considered for my abasement! I dared do 
naught else but plead. 

"Whip me, Master. Please. Now." 

"On what part of you, Elayne?" 

I had never even thought of it. There was nowhere "Master Please! I don't 
know oh Please!" 

He sneered at my fear. I followed his contemptuous steps to the place where 
he could strike me best. Then turned my head to stare only at the wall. My 
heart was pounding at my breast with frightening thuds. 

It was quite different. I had expected that. It was the difference between a 
bruise and cut. What I had not expected was his choice of my back, barely 
below my shoulders. Its wound began beneath one armpit and spent itself 
below the other. I am not certain of the sounds I made or of the motions of 
my limbs. I am glad. I don't want to remember. 

Ravel gave me the three promised wounds in fairly rapid succession. The 
agony mounted in such a crescendo that my consciousness became blurred. I 
remember his eyes as he came and stared: eyes alight with his own joy and a 
terrible, terrible hunger. He took me there, standing. His thrusts of such 
force that he used an arm to hold my loins receptive to his piercing. A long 
time afterwards a girl came and laved the three spaced cuts across my back 
with water and then with an antiseptic that made me moan anew. I hung there 
for the day. 

I think the Templars saw my cut back as a symbol, a brand marking my 
ownership. 

They were examined and much admired. Certainly they were well and carefully 
cared for so that they should heal rapidly and well. Ravel adored them. I 
knew, with a terrible certainty, he hungered to etch more of them upon my 
skin. Delphine told me of a girl he had almost killed. 

The wounds hurt me little after a couple of days, except at those times when 
Ravel forced me to the floor and held my shoulders down while he used my 
sex. He did it on purpose, loving my pain. He forced me to tell him my 
orgasms were of a double intensity because of my cut back screaming beneath 
his male weight. My shame was that it was true. I had never known such 
concentrations of sensory joy. They left me limp and uncaring of anything 
but him. I had become a not unwilling vessel for both his pain and his 
sperm. 

In between, I hated him. 

Owen changed things. 

He joined the Templars on the first of three days during which Ravel had 
warned of absence. Ravel had told me I was "at large" but left me without 
guidance. I did not ask him for orders, I feared what they might be. I had 
little hope of surcease. If Ravel did not use me someone else would. 

I was serving drinks in the Lounge, a self appointed task that made me less 
obviously available. I was naked, flaunting my stripes. I was always kept 
naked. 

Other girls sometimes were allowed clothes, but never me. Busily doing 
little, I became aware of eyes. The eyes were, behind spectacles and 
followed me assiduously. Their owner was a slight, nondescript young man who 
looked as little like a Templar as might be. He appeared lost and lonely and 
did not belong. I thrust my beaten breasts forward and offered him my tray. 

"Oh I say, that's frightfully decent of you." 

British, but not a Dimbleby! He seemed so innocent he stole my sympathy. A 
rising pinkness attested to his observation of my female parts. 

"Your first time, Master?" 

He visibly jumped at sound of the title. He was probably mostly addressed as 
"Hey you". 

"Well, yes, actually" He blinked and gulped. "I say, you do know, don't you 
you don't have any clothes on?" 

"You mean I'm naked?" 

"Well yes. I though perhaps something had slipped, y'know - fallen off." 

He was dead serious. Not trying to be funny. He was trying not to see my 
breasts, so looked at them all the harder. 

"Nice, aren't they!" 

"The drinks? Oh delicious." 

"No. My breasts." 

He gulped and downed the cocktail. "Oh really, Miss" 

"I've been named Elayne, Master." 

"Jolly nice name. Mine's Owen." He dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. 
"Are all these chaps, and girls and things, and you - I mean well, do they 
all do they actually?" 

For few moments I turned so that he enjoyed a close-up of my back. "Does 
that answer your question, Master?" 

"Good heavens! Did you do - I mean, misbehave or something? 

"No Master. I am whipped because it gives pleasure to Templars." 

"But that's pretty awful. Your back! You've been whipped many times!" 

"Are you going to whip me, Master?" 

He took another drink to tide him over the shock. "You mean I could? You'd 
let me?" 

"I couldn't stop you, Master if you'd tied me properly." 

"That's what I love: the reason I'm here. To tie up a naked girl! 

"Don't look so embarrassed, Master. That's why everyone is here." 

"Do you call all the men Master?" 

"If I didn't, Master, I'd be punished." 

Poor little chap! I felt sorry for him. Or perhaps I selfishly, thought I'd 
be a lot safer with him than one of the others. I had also had a couple of 
drinks. The idea. of teasing this innocence appealed. Delphine had come into 
view, clothed. I beckoned. 

At the introduction he insisted on formally shaking hands. "Are you a 
matron, a hostess perhaps visiting?" 

Delphine shared my mood. "Oh, the clothes! Pay no attention to them. It's 
mostly a dress, nothing underneath." 

"Well" 

"It comes off easily. Did you want to pick me up or something? We have 
lovely rooms?" 

"Oh I say, do you get paid? I mean a commission? Are you? 

"No we are not! Don't look so anxious. We're quite nice girls. We've been 
put here to please, and to get the sharp edges knocked off our 
personalities." She giggled, "They do it with a, whip. Have you noticed 
Elayne's back and bottom?" 

He reeled a bit under the word 'bottom' but rallied strongly. "You seem 
awfully cheerful?" 

"I love it. Except most of the chaps go too far. I'm sure you wouldn't 
though. Want to practice on us?" 

"That's awfully decent" 

"Start by grabbing a handful of Elayne's cunt. Here, darling, let me take 
the tray." 

Even for me the suggestion was a shock. It defeated Owen totally. He 
replaced his empty glass on my tray and fled. 

But it was not over. 

The following day I was claimed early and taken to one of the rooms by a 
Templar who seemed to have other things on his mind. He stood me against the 
wall and locked my bracelets to rings. Then left. 

Ten minutes later Owen walked briskly in. 

He had evidently come to grips with himself and B & D. There was a "do or 
die" quality in his inspection of my freely available charms. 

"Sorry about yesterday." 

"It does not matter, Master." 

"I'm going to tie you up. Found this on the news-stand. Like to see how 
practical ..." 

It was one of the better glossies, a quality magazine. On its cover a nude 
maiden, exquisitely bound with a white nylon rope, knelt at the feet of what 
was presumably her master. His hand was in her hair. 

"These people do it awfully well." said Owen. 

"I'm afraid you'll have to unlock me, Master." 

"Oh! Well, of course." His briskness faded a bit. "I suppose you - you will 
let me?" 

"Yes, Master, I'll let you tie me any way you wish." 

He fumbled with my bracelets, breathing heavily at the gates of paradise. 

I had to stand at attention with my breasts stuck out. Beautifully painless. 
I wondered if I could doze! He locked the bracelets behind my back and tied 
my elbows together. He should have taken lessons from the chap on the 
magazine cover. But he managed to hurt me a bit, and anyway I couldn't get 
loose. 

He then tied my ankles, a fair job. embarrassment radiating in waves. 

When he came to doing my knees I could feel the A man bending to such a task 
can hardly pretend to be far from an unforgivable word. He fumbled from one 
side to the other, but my pubic hair defeated him. He knelt. 

"You're very lovely, Elaine." 

"I'm glad you like it, Master." 

"It! Oh, oh yes. Oh dear! I really didn't mean..." 

"Yes you did, Master." 

I would never have dared with Ravel. It was a relief to be a bit myself with 
Owen. 

"Well, I must admit." 

"You can use my pussy if you wish, Master." 

The result of that coy suggestion was surprising. Without preamble, pause of 
by your leave, he thrashed my bottom savagely with the first cane that came 
to hand, fortunately for me, not the most severe.. 

"Let that be a lesson to you." 

We were both panting. He from exertion and me from pain and shock. He'd even 
made me scream. It was the sort of caning Ravel gave me when he was a bit 
bored. 

My bottom blazed. I twisted until I was in danger of falling. My boy was 
feeling his oats. I'd better be respectful. It was a chastening thought that 
even Owen could improve my humility with a cane. Dimbleby would be 
delighted. 

"I'm sorry, Master." 

"In England a lady does not use such words." 

"They call it a fanny there, don't they?" 

He started in on me again. But I wailed and howled so much he desisted, and 
held my arm to steady me from falling. 

"Watch your tongue, Elayne." 

"I'm terribly sorry, master. I will be good. I promise." 

He wiped my tears. He did it competently since he was not close to any of my 
more intimate portions. He was suddenly very macho. 

"I was sorry to have to cane you over all those those cane marks." 

"It doesn't matter, Master. I get caned a lot." 

"Why don't you behave better. A nice girl like you shouldn't have to be 
constantly punished." 

"I will try, master." 

Poor idiot! If he only knew! He was another evidence of how men prefer to 
have a supposedly good reason to whip the girl they control. My mention of 
my un- offending pussy had put justice into partnership with lust to give me 
a very tender bottom. It had also sent Owen's inhibitions scurrying. But 
there was still one left. 

"There's a picture here in fact there are quite a number. This, this 
arrangement seems absolutely de rigueur over here." 

He showed me the picture. I almost laughed. The rope was wickedly cinched 
into the model's crotch. I wondered if they got paid extra. 

"I'm afraid you'd have to untie my legs, Master. Or sort of thread the rope 
through between my thighs." 

Poor Owen! He just had a tiger by the tail and was, himself the tiger. He 
was blushing but thrilled. 

"I don't quite get the motive. I mean, it doesn't really tie up anything at 
all, does it." 

"It ties her - oops! Oh, Master, I nearly said it." 

"You see, the caning did you good." He just luxuriated in virtue. 

"You're ever so kind to me." 

"Yes. But this rope effect, what's it for?" 

"It's sort of punishment, Master. But it does sort of help a girl behave. 
Every time she moves she hurts." 

"Is it I mean, is it actually?" 

"Inside her four letter word? Yes, that's where it goes. A girl gets her 
lips parted and it's cinched in." 

"I... Oh really, I'm afraid I..." He looked at me in dismay. "It's quite 
easy, Master. And, of course, you can make it as tight or as loose as you 
wish. The girl doesn't have anything to say about it." 

"The effect is pleasing." And his mind was obviously filling with visions. 
"Does it have... I mean, is there a pleasant...?" 

"You mean, does it pleasure the girl's clit, master. Not if it's very tight 
it doesn't" 

He gazed at me, boggle eyed. "The 'it' word you used, is it spelled with a 
'C' or..." 

"A 'C' Master." 

"Good heavens! I've never heard. I say, d'you think we might try it.?" 

"I am for your pleasure, Master." 

Owen played it safe. He untied my ankles and knees. Like the good slave girl 
I was, I spread my legs. 

"That's extremely kind of you." He looked at the rope in his hands, and at 
the crevice of my thighs. 

"I hope you'll forgive..." 

Poor Owen! I do myself a favour. "If you prefer, you can use two strands 
underneath me. That way you can tug one up each side of that thin gully I 
mustn't put a name to." 

I've heard the British have a gift for compromise. Owen used it. He worried 
away at my loins with tugs and pulls and knots. He pinched my skin horribly 
with the bands 'round my tummy. I had to explain the down and under bit, but 
when he was through my pussy was neatly framed by two bits of rope which: if 
he'd tied 'em any tighter, might have cut it off. I had the feeling it was 
pouting and sticking out a mile. 

Add to that the ropes ,round my elbows and you have a normal Templar day. I 
hurt. 

Owen turned a page of his magazine. Then looked at me meditatively. "Would 
you mind kneeling down, Elayne? By those rings." 

I knelt. It would be hard on my knees, but better than Ravel. 

"From this illustration it would appear they should be somewhat, further 
apart." 

I moved my knees somewhat apart. Owen bound my knee hollows tight down, then 
my ankles. I was fixed but good. 

"Quite lovely, quite lovely. His voice was hushed. He stood and gave his 
full attention to my nipples, my navel and my bound vulva. Sight of the 
latter inspired him to a height of daring. "Perhaps the, er, lips - a small 
adjustment." 

He was blushingly fumbling with my cunt when Ravel walked in. 

It was one of those moments. 

Owen picked up the vibrations. My stricken face betrayed my fear. Seeing it, 
he backed away. 

"Sorry." 

Silence. 

A clashing of eyes. 

"Expect I'm intruding." 

Maybe someone had told him about Ravel. Maybe he guessed. Owen looked from 
one to the other of us. The air was thunderous with portent. "I'll leave you 
two together - Mustn't ..." Owen faded away as though he had never existed. 

The silence remained "Why? you little bitch!, why?" 

"I was at large, Master. He chose me." 

"You know better than that. You're mine." 

"I didn't know, Master! I didn't! Oh please!" 

"Please what, bitch?" 

"Please forgive me, Master. I did not know." 

Ravel did not bother to speak or to command., Standing before me, he thrust 
his immense phallus at my face. 

I did my slave girl duty. 

Replete with his semen, my tongue and lips tired. I knelt there to await my 
sentence or his forgiveness. My heart was pounding. The ropes cutting me 
everywhere told me all to well I was delivered to his wrath. 

"Kneel there, bitch." 

"Thank you, Master." 

"Tomorrow, I'll whip you. Today you can think of it." I looked up 
questioningly. He read my eyes. 

"Yes, bitch, it's the crop; nor will I stop at three." 

He went away. 

It is terrible to kneel. 

In an hour I was in tears. I could not move. My knees screamed their 
protest, my elbows ached and scalded. The ropes 'round my tummy were too 
tight. Had she been able to my pussy would have wept in pain. Owen had done 
a better job than he knew. 

I could not dry my tears. I could do nothing. It would have been kinder had 
I been able to close my legs, but I could not. I knelt there, strained and 
open as though no more than a frame displaying the darkness of my pubic 
thatch with its swollen pouting lips below. 

I was a fool. The word went over and over in my mind: "Fool, fool, fool!" To 
have delivered myself willingly to this! It was maddening. Had he been able 
to see me, Cedric would have been equally dismayed. He had not wanted this 
for me. I had wished it on myself. And for why! A girlish fancy about 
nobility and sacrifice for the man I was going to marry. Or was it a selfish 
striving for a psychological perfection to erase from his mind any thought 
that I could not live up to what he would demand of me as his wife? I wept 
in frustration, in anger and in pain. 

The whip. 

Thoughts of what Ravel had sentenced me to on the morrow would hound me 
incessantly until the first lash cut my skin. He planned it so. It was not 
enough for him that I should kneel naked and agonised; my mind too must be 
tortured. He chose to speak of the beastly weapon as a crop, but to me it 
was a whip. It was thin and lissom enough to cut a band around my waist, 
should he so wish. By this time tomorrow... I shuddered in remembrance of 
the girl Delphine had told me of. would I, too, nearly die! Dimbleby had 
said I would not be damaged but would he know! And knowing, would he care! 
He would probably be pleased. And Ravel outranked him, I was sure he did. 

The three wounds I now bore across my shoulders were healing. They had 
received much care. The Templars at least did that for their female 
prisoners. We were costly merchandise to be treasured. 

The rest of me was just blatantly marked, but not with wounds. In this kind 
of a house, a girl had to bear all of her weals with pride or shame 
according to her nature. 

Had mine been less I would have loved them more. 

In the afternoon Ravel came again. He brought a thonged whip with which he 
beat the soles of my feet. I could not move them. They stared up from their 
bondage on the floor, imploring attention. I twisted against Owen's ropes. I 
screamed and longed to die as the lashes swiftly fell in alternated agonies 
across the bottom of my helpless feet. Without a word, he adjusted the ropes 
on my loins, contemptuously separating my sex and thrusting the double 
strands within, then tightening them until I cried aloud in protesting 
anguish, and was lashed again. 

At night I was given to Delphine. My bracelets were locked behind my back 
and she was warned not to loose them. She tended me. 

She was as perturbed as I. She was frightened of Ravel. 

He had used her once. She wanted him no more. To Delphine, Ravel was a 
demon. a man possessed, driven by dark desires, using his potency as the 
final subjugation of his girls. Hearing her talk, my plea became inevitable. 

"Delphine, help me escape?" 

She held me close as a mother might a child. Her tears wet my nakedness and 
blended with my own. "Darling, I can't, I can't!" 

"There must be a way. Oh Delphine, is that why I'm braceleted like this? 
They think I'll try?" 

"Yes. No one would blame you. Ravel's a devil." 

"Escape is possible, isn't it? You must have thought of it?" 

"Only in an abstract sort of way, darling. We're all here because we want to 
be, remember. No use running away from something we've chosen. You wouldn't 
be thinking of it yourself if it wasn't for Ravel. You were just unlucky 
that he got a thing for you." 

I nestled against her shoulder. She felt good. I had a need of female 
sympathy. I wished I could share her satisfaction with the Templars. 

"But they're all bastards." I sobbed. "Most of what I was shown that first 
day. How can you?" 

"But the girls like it, darling. They have their own needs. We may not look 
happy while it's happening to us. But before and after...you aren't really 
one of us, are you? You shouldn't have come. I thought I was." 

"A man made you think that. There's a little bit of it in most girls and a 
man can bring it out, if he's the right one." 

"I so wanted to do it. But no one's been kind. Dimbleby, Ravel." 

"Owen was amusing." 

I had forgotten Owen. Ravel had dissipated him like a mist against hot sun. 
"Owen was just ridiculous. That's all, Delphine." 

"Look, darling, about this escape. You're desperate and might try it if 
you're given a chance. But don't! It's the unforgivable sin. The punishment 
when they catch you is just too much. It's not worth it." 

"It's worth it to me. No punishment is worse than what Ravel's going to do 
to me." 

She held me close though the night as we slept. 

Ravel never betrayed much emotion only his eyes. When he possessed me in the 
morning I saw what Delphine had seen. They were the eyes of a devil. Eyes 
haunted with visions of tortured girls. I walked before him to the room, 
trembling. 

"Why do you tremble, Elayne?" 

I dropped to my knees and thrust my cheek against his thigh. I could not 
clasp him: my wrists were still braceleted behind my back. But I pleaded Oh 
how I pleaded! 

"You don't expect mercy, do you, bitch.?" 

"Oh, Master, don't - don't call me that. I'm not a bitch, I'm not!" 

"Think of it girl, I'll mark you for life. On your feet." 

"Please, oh please! Oh, Master, I promise. I'll be a good slave." 

"You are not a slave, Elayne. You never have been. There is always rebellion 
in your eyes. You think I haven't known!" 

"I will be! I will! Master, give me a chance. Don't whip me." 

"Your back shall be bloody, Elayne." 

"No! Oh no! Oh, Master." 

He had seen what I sought to hide. I had abased myself to no purpose. I had 
abandoned flippancy and sarcasm and thought myself cured of them, conceding 
to myself that a whip upon a girl's bare skin can cure her of any fault or 
any virtue. 

Now I must be whipped anew that the little bit of Cathy Hazlett still 
surviving be excised. This man would kill me. No one would know. The 
Templars were powerful. 

"Get up." 

I struggled to my feet. There was no mercy in his face at all. 

This is how he wanted girls, bereft and in despair, walking to their 
punishments, hands bound. I turned and stumbled to where I would be whipped. 

Always the same way. Ravel adored me on my toes with hands braceleted high. 
I suppose there is no better pose in which to whip a girl. Satisfied with my 
naked helplessness and waiting skin, he possessed me. The act, performed 
thus, pleased his sense of the grotesque. Or perhaps my distaste for being 
thus violated added piquancy. His strength was so great that he was able to 
handle my nudity like a puppet on a string, raising and positioning me to 
ride astride his awesome weapon, knocking my legs to where he wanted them, 
pulling my sex forward for the piercing and the thrusts. When my cries fell 
to moans after the tumult of sensation and my toes once more found the floor 
he took a sardonic delight in lowering my tractioned arms to where I could 
kneel and cleanse the instrument of my humiliation with my lips and tongue; 
my hands still braceleted to each end of the bar. The job performed to his 
satisfaction, I must fumble with a single captive set of fingers to replace 
and make tidy before I was, once more, raised so that the whip could cut me 
as it chose. 

"You'll wait for it, Elayne." 

The bastard! The dirty bastard! To stand like this was agony. But I was 
broken by apprehension. 

"Thank you, Master." 

"You say it well, Elayne, but mean it not at all." 

"I want to mean it, Master. I do! Oh, I do!" He took the beastly instrument 
from its case and laid it where I must see it as I stood. "Worship it, 
girl." "Yes, master." 

"Open your legs." 

I obeyed instantly, puzzled by the demand. It was not easy on tiptoe. With 
my feet well apart I was almost suspended. Ravel picked up the lash he had 
used on my soles the day before. 

"A preliminary." 

"Thank you, Master." 

It was not as I expected. Far from it. The thongs whistled up from behind, 
cut me between my thighs and splatted its force upon my sex. I screamed in 
shock and pain and outrage. Always something new to fear and for which to 
offer false thanks. 

"I promised you, Elayne." 

"Yes, Master. Thank you." 

"Stop that moaning. You can moan later when there's cause. And keep your 
legs apart. Close 'em and I'll half kill you." 

I kept my legs apart. It was as hard a thing as I have ever done. But 
whatever Ravel demanded of me I would do. His power was absolute. I felt 
certain that even though I was free I would position myself to accept his 
punishments and hold that position until I dropped. I was crazily thankful 
for being tied. My wrists were bands of fire. 

Six times in the same place. Six scalding cuts on a part of me that should 
have been inviolate. My poor, poor, pussy' It shrank, scalded, beneath it's 
black bush, but could evade nothing. 

"And now your breasts." 

I screamed before he struck. Snapping my legs together upon one agony, I 
knew I could do nothing to shield another. My breasts belonged to Ravel. I 
could not move them. They stuck out taut and firm under the stretch of my 
raised arms. He whipped them one at a time, standing well to one side to 
give his individual attention to each. 

Not striking them as hard as he had struck my sex, but hard enough that I 
feared for them and to make me dance my jig of anguish. 

"I leave you now, Elayne. Thank me for what is done and plead for what is 
still to do." 

He was a devil! Extracting every drop of essence from my hurts. But 
disobedience was never in my mind. 

"Thank you for whipping my cunt and breasts, Master. Please return and cut 
my skin with the special crop." 

I got a courtly inclination from his head. Then he was gone. 

I hung there. What else could I call it! My poor toes weakened and tired so 
that half the time it was my wrists that must bear my weight. I went from 
foot to foot and feet to wrists, an endless round of seeking an easement 
utterly denied. I hurt hatefully in places where a girl should never hurt. I 
wept and dried my tears upon my upraised arms. And I hated Ravel with every 
particle of my being! 

And I could not tell the time. That is a cruelty of which I should be 
accustomed. But a girl is never accustomed to these vacuums in which she is 
tied or chained to await the pleasure of her owner. You wait, you hurt, you 
look at the whip with which you will be marked. It is a special time of 
awfulness, a time of terror. A time to panic. 

Little by little you accept all of the pain and cease to strive. It becomes 
easier to be possessed by pain and to let your head bow and your mind to 
rove. Time drifts by like a hazy nightmare. It was in the midst of this I 
heard the step. 

It was not Ravel! 

It was Delphine. Her finger was on her lips, a bundle was draped across her 
arm. 

As she loosened my bracelets she whispered instructions. 

"But they'll half kill you, darling!" 

"They need not know. but they can't be sure. good alibi." 

I'll dash right back up so I'm not missed. They may suspect I'm going 
straight to a room with a Templar. It's a pretty We kissed and hugged in a 
desperate need, then she was gone. 

It was impossible. It was a miracle. But it had happened. I drove the little 
car for all it was worth. If I could reach the city I was safe. If Ravel 
overtook me on the highway I would precipitate a collision rather than be 
dragged back to his Templar torture. 

Feverishly, I computed and reviewed. I was dressed, skimpily but dressed. I 
had a car, with directions where to leave it when it had served my need. The 
directions were written on a slip tied to the steering wheel, typewritten on 
Dimbleby's typewriter so as to betray no one. I had a small bag containing 
money and girl's basic needs. 

Delphine's terse directions had taken me from my place of whipping to the 
car with an ease born of her long knowledge of the Templar's mansion. If 
only they did not see her as the architect of my escape! I prayed feverishly 
they would not. 

I was free! Free, free, free! I sang it as a song. 

But I was free! 

Cedric. 

A slave! 

It was a bit of a shock to realise I had only this moment remembered my 
first master. Since Ravel's discovery of me with Owen, Cedric had not 
entered my mind. 

Ravel, pain and Delphine had pushed him into limbo. But he was the man I was 
going to marry. He was the man I had suffered for. Cedric was waiting. What 
a beautiful wonderful shock I was going to give him. I had been the 
Templar's prisoner for only three weeks. Three weeks so potent with pain 
they were like three centuries. Cedric and I were going to be married. I 
sang that word too in the same way I had serenaded freedom: Married, 
married, married But it didn't come out right. 

Not right at all. 

By the time I reached the city limits I was in a fine old dither. 

Decisions. 

Oh damn! 

I was not yet Cathy. Ravel had obliterated Cathy and replaced her with 
Elayne. But who was Elayne! She was nothing either. In limbo. When I turned 
my thoughts to Cedric's waiting arms, I felt only the wounds of enslavement. 
Suddenly I saw the bracelets on my wrists. I could not get them off. The key 
to them had been beyond Delphine's magic. I hated them. As long as I wore 
them I belonged to Ravel. The motions of the car chafed the three wounds 
across my shoulders and accentuated the scald of my whipped sex. My breasts 
burned against the fabric of my dress. 

My breasts had been lashed by a lunatic. 

Suddenly I saw myself with a terrible clarity: Myself as I now was as 
compared to the Cathy hazlett before she was kidnapped. Two different girls. 
A slave girl is not as others, she is a being apart and separate. I had 
allowed myself to become a slave. 

Allowed! Well, perhaps I should not be that hard on myself. A girl is made 
slave by whips and chains. If she suffers enough of them she will truly see 
herself as thrall. 

It is that simple. 

Don't go back. 

Ever. 

I was washed clean of taint by a great wave of longing for normalcy. Once 
more my skin would be inviolate, my sex a secret cache, my limbs free always 
to do my bidding. I shuddered in an involuntary spasm of revulsion at what I 
had become, what I had been made to do. If I had sometimes been privy to my 
own enslavement it was because of the disorientation of emotions tossed on 
storms of mistaken motives and wishful thinking. I could no longer focus on 
Cedric. He was gone. 

Marriage! It now seemed absurd. I though back to the exuberant and shining 
girl who had gone to the Templars so blithely to prove a point that mattered 
little or not at all. There had been a streak of perversity in that girl, 
more than a streak of bravado. She had been a girl wanting to play with 
fire. She had been burned. 

But the Templars had not made that girl. Cedric Hollings had moulded her to 
his heart's desire long before that day. Cedric might be weak or strong, but 
his whips and chains had done the task he required of them. From this 
alchemy of motives and methods had emerged Elayne. 

Elayne was dead. 

Let her die. 

It was a damned awkward couple of days, fraught with infinite 
embarrassments. The manager of the apartment, my employer, my parents. But 
there came to my rescue all the current suspicions and inferences of a 
girl's behaviour. I had been somewhere with "A Man!" I blushed and stammered 
and was evasive enough to please them all. Fortunately, no one asked me to 
strip. In a week I was back to what, in my mind, I called 'The 
pre-kidnapping era'. 

At first the bracelets bothered me. I wanted them off. But I could not face 
the ordeal of a locksmith or mechanic. I spent hours in my apartment 
fiddling with bits of wire and pins and nails and things. Quite hopeless of 
course. The bracelets had been locked on my wrists to stay. So, on the day 
before I returned to the office and my typewriter, I had the janitor borrow 
an enormous pair of bolt cutters and shear off the telltale rings. I made a 
joke of it and gave him ten dollars. This left me wearing a pair of quite 
lovely bracelets of which no girl need be ashamed. The anathema was wearing 
thin, I was almost proud of them. I'd use them as a hair shirt to remind me 
to be sensible and not look back. They would endure on my wrists long after 
the weals on my skin had gone all but the three. They were healing fast, but 
I was yet to discover that symbol of Ravel I would eventually bear forever. 

It took me several days to really believe I was free. There was unreality in 
the absence of constraint. My walk took on something of a stride to affirm 
the absence of metal bands and the chain between my ankles. I found myself 
doing things with my hands in close proximity as though still hand cuffed. 

I chose a letter. I could not trust myself on the phone. 

I could trust myself even less in a confrontation. I tore up a few 'Dear 
Cedric' effusions before dropping one in the mail. I was free. I had burned 
a bridge. 

But I was not happy. The fact was I was out of sorts with men, and a girl 
without a man is lost. We live in a vacuum. We are absurd. But we need the 
male presence, the daily reassurance of our desirability. Without it we 
wither. But the gap between the bonds of slavery and the bonds of matrimony 
was too wide. I doubted I could ever bridge it. And babies! Good heavens! If 
I had a baby the poor kid would be born wearing handcuffs. 

I was not actively unhappy. I went to work, wrote letters, watched T.V., 
went to the movies, accepted a date or two which left me feeling completely 
neuter. I even went to visit Nancy Dwight and stayed the night with her, 
leaving in the morning without a wish to repeat. I was a bundle of female 
something or other going no place. 

So was I in love with Cedric? No, it wasn't that. Well then, I yearned for 
my Svengali Ravel? But the thought of the Templars could still send cold 
chills down my spine. 

It wasn't that either. I did a lot of self analysis which was well reasoned 
and accurate. I had answers. What I needed now was answers to the answers. I 
was lonely. 

But not for long. 

Chapter Eight 

That damn fool letter! And old Dimbleby romping on the phone! And an asshole 
named Ravel. I wanted to kick the whole lot of 'em, including Cathy! It was 
far worse than the time she'd gone away with Nancy Dwight. The house without 
Cathy was a morgue. I was a corpse. I could tell she'd spent a lot of time 
on that letter. It was complete and explicit and answered all my impatient 
questions before I'd even asked 'em. Dammit to hell, I could see her logic. 
I hadn't an argument. I was back at square one. Why would any girl in her 
right mind walk through my front door and ask to be chained or tied so she 
could never leave again, and to be whipped if she failed to please my 
notions of what she should be! Why! Hell, there's no answer to that one. 

The Templars had been a last straw too many. What an ass I'd been! Unsure of 
myself. Doubting the perfection I'd created. Asking her to prove it one more 
time. 

Cathy was gone. 

Sure, sure, I thought of finding her, It would not be hard. But what then! 
Tears. 

Contempt. Rejection. Cathy had been hurt bad. Both physically and mentally. 
And it was my fault. Who else! 

Even though it had become a mausoleum my house had acquired an aura from 
what I had done within its walls with Cathy. I had bought it for her. Bought 
it to be her prison after I'd captured her. Bought it for the two of us. I 
could look back and realise how the fantasy of my slave girl falling love 
with her master had been there always, long before I got the money and 
perfected my plan to kidnap a pretty girl. 

My house chided me. It mocked. It cried aloud that it was bereft of purpose. 
It had fulfilled my every dream, and now I had abandoned it to echoes. 

Maybe I can blame or thank my house for what I now did. 

I had made a slave girl. I had lost her. I had killed her love. But the 
world was full of girls. I had found Cathy: I could find another. Kidnapping 
was a surprisingly easy thing to do. I should know! 

Who? 

I took to wandering the City and attending functions. Lots of girls. But I 
soon realised I was not looking for them, I was looking for Cathy. Nuts! But 
there it was. 

In desperation, or maybe to save searching, I decided on Nancy Dwight. 

It was easy to date her. She was curious as all get out. I spent an evening 
with her, fobbing off her questions and casually asking enough of my own to 
obtain the background I needed for a successful kidnap. I managed to amuse 
her enough to set up another date. She didn't know it, but it was to be her 
last date ever. 

Beautifully simple. Nancy had an apartment on the ground floor, there was a 
parking lot. I'd chloroform her and carry her the short distance to the car. 
If anyone saw me I'd pretend to be taking her to the doctor. I'd ask 'em to 
open the door for me. Honest, that's all there is to it. Once I had her in 
the car I'd slip the handcuffs on her wrists and ankles and I'd have me a 
new slave girl. 

I managed to get excited. My house approved. Nancy's peppery and abrasive 
temper helped. The thought of tying her up and reddening her rump until she 
got some sense was most appealing. I got rid of the few things that might 
have reminded either of us of Cathy. Then, on the fatal evening, I walked 
briskly into Nancy's apartment with the chloroform in my jacket pocket. I 
didn't ring, I didn't knock. I just walked in through the kitchen and on 
into the living room. The chair she sat in had its back to the door. I could 
see her crossed feet and an elbow as she thumbed a magazine. It was perfect. 
I took out the chloroform and pounced. 

But it wasn't Nancy. 

It was Cathy. 

You know all about momentum and conditioned reflexes and the impulse of 
compulsion. All of them worked on me. I could no more have stopped than 
could a planet in the sky. I had the pad well over the protesting mouth and 
nose before recognition was total on either side. As we fought she slipped 
away into blackness. 

Unthinking and uncaring. I carried my slave girl to the car. No one saw us. 

It was the same ecstasy, the same surge of joy. The knowledge of a point 
beyond return. A glory of fulfilment. I laid my treasure upon the back seat, 
brought her hands round back and handcuffed them firmly, then locked her 
ankles. Then I drove us home at exactly the speed limit. 

It was done. I was back at another square one. 

I played it the same as before. I could not conceive another way. It was a 
natural. I stripped her and spread her on the bed exactly as she had been 
the first time. I felt savage at the way she'd been used by the Templars. 
Their marks were still all over her, mostly faded, but they must have been 
bad. They were going to be hard to talk away. I fixed her comfortably and 
safely. I had hardly sat down to wait when she blinked her way back into the 
world. Only the smallest tremor, then tense realisation, followed by much 
the same tentative testing of her bonds as I had watched that first time 
long ago. She did not bother to struggle. Just said in a tired voice. 

"It's no good, y'know." 

I kept silent. I think she drifted back into the shadows for a minute or so 
before she said: "It's so silly, Cedric. It doesn't change anything." 

I let that go too. I couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say. Cathy 
pulled fretfully at the ropes on her wrists and ankles. I suspect to show me 
her distaste for them. 

"You don't need to tie me, Cedric. I'm so very sick of being tied." 

"You mean you won't run? You mean you'll stay?" The words exploded out of 
me. 

"Did I say that! I don't think I did." She was still dopey. "It's not what I 
mean. Oh Cedric, no!" 

My hope destroyed, I kept silent. Anything I said would be wrong. I ached 
with words that would not come. 

"Cedric, untie me please?" 

The biggest hurt was her use of my name. Not a single 'master', not even in 
sarcasm. Her use of my christian name made us strangers. I wanted to untie 
her but I did not dare. Oh sure, she looked delightful tied the way she was, 
and I couldn't help the thrill I was getting at having her like that again. 
But, with all that, I would have loosened the ropes if I'd thought she would 
come into my arms instead of walking out of my house. 

"Darling, I can't untie you. You know I can't." 

"Drop the 'darling' Cedric, it doesn't belong any more. Maybe it never did. 
We were in love with a dream. I'm so sorry." 

I wanted to say: "I love you." But it would sound trite. Everything was 
wrong for us. 

Just the one bright spot: I had her!. 

"Cedric! Please! Untie me!" 

Her voice had strengthened, so had her dismay. She raised herself as much as 
she could, the ropes tugging' at her wrists. She looked at the familiar room 
and then at me. I expect she was remembering things too. Then she let 
herself fall back. A moment later a tear formed and trickled down her cheek. 
She let it fall. She didn't care. It was followed by another. 

We box ourselves in, make our own traps. What the hell could I do now! I 
could keep the girl I loved a prisoner or I could let her go. Either way I 
was going to lose. 

If I freed her she would add contempt to whatever other feelings she had for 
me. If I kept her, it seemed unlikely her regard for me would be any less 
negative than now. 

Looked at that way there wasn't much choice. I tried to explain my quandary. 
Cathy lay there crying quietly while I floundered. 

"Don't try and analyse it, Cedric. None of it matters." 

"I won't let you go, Cathy." 

"You have to say that, but its silly. I'm no good to you any more. I hate 
what you love. You don't need me. Get Nancy to be your slave. She must like 
you to set me up for you the way she did." 

Another box I couldn't get out of. Cathy couldn't possibly believe the 
truth, and I couldn't tell it without playing into her hands. Damn! 

"What's changed you, Cathy? Was it the Templars?" 

She sniffed and then tugged listlessly at her tethers. 

Slowly she blurted it all out about her captivity and the man Ravel. Her 
animation flowered as she talked. At the end she said vehemently. 

"It was beastly. But, in a way, I owe them. They opened my eyes to what a 
damn stupid business this is; this whole idea of slavery and being tied and 
chained and hurt and losing freedom. It's nuts!" 

I felt a heel, but I also felt anger. "You didn't think it was nuts with 
me." I said. 

"I did at the start, when you had me the way you've got me now." She sneered 
unhappily. "You broke me. Nothing dramatic, but you punished me until I saw 
things Your way. I had to see things your way to survive. Then I got used to 
it. 

Can't you understand how lonely it is for a girl captive. She sits chained 
to await your pleasure. When you come she's so damn pleased to see you that, 
after along time, she begins to think she actually loves you, her slavery 
becomes plausible. 

She's been conditioned, that's what happened to me." 

"That's not fair. You're leaving out the best." 

"Stop it, Cedric! I don't want to talk about it. Leave well enough alone. If 
you want to talk, then let me loose so I can do it in a civilised way, not 
tied down like some captured animal." 

"I'll get you off the bed if you want, but I won't free you." 

"Leave me here then, damn you!" 

She suddenly went wild. I knew it was a fit of temper, or maybe to make me 
feel bad. But it was impressive. Cathy positively hurled herself at those 
ropes. The bed creaked and groaned. I wondered if she knew how beautiful she 
was struggling that way. By the time she gave it up and relapsed she was 
sweating, her hair in disarray. 

"Let me go! Let me go! You've no right to do this to me. You ought to be 
locked up, you're crazy." 

"You know that's not true." I said. 

"Well, haven't you mercy or kindness? You said you loved me?" 

"You told me you loved me, too." I said. 

"Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. Do something!" "What the devil can I 
do?" I said. 

"Undo these blasted ropes. I hate lying her like this with my cunt staring 
you in the face. I suppose you're enjoying my cunt!" 

I knew why she used the rotten word. We both hated it. The sound of it from 
her lips would hurt me. I wanted to hurt back and blurted out: "You've got a 
beautiful cunt. I ought to use it." 

"Go ahead." she said bitterly. "Everyone else has." 

"In the proper time and place." I said. 

"Oh shit, Cedric, grow up!" 

"We could go to bed." I said. 

She stiffened, and raised a questioning eye. "Where?" 

"You know where. The real one. Just one ankle chained?" I said. 

"Shove it." 

"Do you want to stay here all night?" I said. 

She went berserk again, and damn near wrecked the bed. "Does that answer you 
question?" 

It answered my question. Chagrin and disappointment sparked my anger. I'd 
been repulsed brutally enough to hurt my pride. 

"You tell me where then." I said. 

"In my own home. That's where." "That's not possible." She sneered again. 
"That makes it easy. Bung me in your lousy little prison cell. Thats all I 
am, a prisoner." 

"Cathy, don't. Don't talk like that. I love you." I felt like crying. 

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Cedric, not that." She raised her head the little bit 
she could and glared at me imploringly. "Look, I'll make you a deal. Untie 
me. Then I'll go to bed with you. You'll feel better after you've screwed 
me. Then we can talk. I suggest you visit me in town once a week, we can do 
things together, sensible things. I'm through with being tied up." 

"No you're not." 

She tugged demonstratively at her wrists, and turned at my words. Someone 
else had said them. They were born of my hurt that Cathy would so scorn the 
things we had come to share, to mock my fantasy, reject my inner most need. 
We who adore a bound girl cherish our dream against a hostile world, forever 
defensive. She should have respected my vulnerability. 

"You don't trust me!" 

The words popped out of her mouth almost as though I could trust her! Once 
free, she would rationalise my banishment from her life. Besides, what did I 
want with social evenings! I had kidnapped her the first time to make her a 
slave. I saw now that's the only way. If a woman is not herself enslaved, 
she will enslave you. Look around at American men,? puppy dogs, grateful for 
any bone a girl tosses their way. 

"I'd trust you in anything else, but not this." I said She made an 
inarticulate moan and fell back. Her face was a mask of misery. In a silly 
desperation I went and sat on the bed beside her and began to gently 
friction her nipples. 

"Please leave them alone. Don't touch me." 

"You can't stop me." 

"D'you think I don't know that!" 

She was as hurt as I was. But she was also right, How her face to one side 
so as to exclude me from sight. She stripped her features of expression in a 
way that made me ashamed of what I was doing taking advantage. But I kept on 
doing it. 

"Please rape me and be done." she said. 

"I'm busy." I said. 

She moaned and shifted her breasts beneath my fingers. 

It was a reflex action, a protest in helplessness "Alright! If you keep that 
up you'll get a response out of my cunt. It will get wet so you can get into 
me easy. It won't prove a thing." 

I did not answer. But I kept on the tender massage and watched her cheeks 
flush and her breath quicken. for a long time she managed to quell her 
response, lying there listlessly as though I did not exist. But after awhile 
her sensations defeated her hostility. Fighting each inch of the way, she 
entered lotus land. Transferring my attentions to the lips between her 
spread thighs I took her to the final brink. Then went and sat down. 

Cathy was so close to orgasm that her eyes were closed and her hips were 
working of their own. It took her a minute to properly realise what had 
happened. It was funny, really, but I shouldn't laugh. 

"You son of a bitch!" 

Silence "Have the decency to finish what. You started." 

Silence "Fuck me, damn you! Fuck me!" 

"Don't use those rotten words." I said. 

"Don't leave me this way." 

"I'll leave you anyway I like." I said "Oh, shit! " Her voice held infinite 
disgust." Are we back to that again." 

"All the way." I said. 

She lay there, pouting and sullen while I untied her legs. While I was 
locking on a shackle on her ankle she got in a really massive kick with her 
other foot. It sent me sprawling. 

I got slowly to my feet. I'm human. I went and got a whip. When I returned 
with it she was busy working ineffectually at her wrists, hoping that with 
her feet free she could find some advantage. When she saw the whip she 
froze. 

"You're not going to start hitting me with that beastly things, are you!" 

"Any better ideas?" 

"Alright! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kicked you. But you make me so mad." 

Cathy didn't want to be whipped. Her apology was sweet, but I knew why she 
was making it. She was looking at the whip as though it was a rattlesnake. I 
should have felt a bastard but I didn't. I gave her a real good cut across 
her thighs. She squealed. 

"Don't do that! I said I was sorry." 

This one was across her hips. She bucked and kicked in the most interesting 
manner. If I'm a bastard: then O.K., I'm a bastard. But I have to admit I 
found the sight of Cathy doing what she was doing both amusing and amazingly 
erotic. I had the damnedest hard on. But I'd made up my mind not to screw 
her. I had the feeling it would give her some sort of advantage. 

"Would you say five was fair?" I said. 

"None of it's fair. I don't want any. Oh, damn I've been whipped so much! 
Lay off me, Cedric." 

"Five." I said "No! Wait! Don't" 

She was delightful. I'd never whipped her before in this position. But it 
was one of the best. Cathy couldn't keep her legs still. They squirmed and 
kicked so that, by biding my time, I was able to cut at her in the most 
interesting ways. I wasn't hitting that hard but she made the damnedest fuss 
and the shackle on her one ankle clinked like crazy. After she'd had the 
five, she lay twitching and looking stonily at the ceiling. 

"That gets us back on a proper footing." I said. 

She did not answer. She refused to look at me. I fastened the shackle on her 
other ankle, and then the collar around her neck and locked it with the lead 
chain attached. 

She made small impatient motions but could not stop me. Just once our eyes 
met briefly. For the life of me I couldn't read hers. I don't know what she 
saw in mine. 

Then I untied her wrist. While she sat up and massaged them, she asked 
dully: "Can you get these bracelets off me?" 

"Why?" 

"Don't tell me you're not going to fasten my hands some way?" 

"When I'm ready." 

She sat there, rubbing her chafed skin. Thinking. "I suppose this sounds 
like buttering you up, or that the whip has had the desired effect. But 
anyway, thanks for untying me. It was horrible to wake up and find myself 
all spread and helpless." 

"You're welcome." I said. 

She put on a resigned air of martyrdom when I pulled on her leash. But she 
got up and followed docilely enough. She had not forgotten how to walk with 
chained feet. 

I figured the only reason she didn't put up a fight with her free hands was 
she was scared how a tussle might end. And anyway, with her ankles shackled 
and the collar and all, she hadn't a hope of winning. But she blew her top 
when I sat on the edge of the tub. 

"Cedric, get out of here. I don't want you in the bathroom while I'm using 
it. You've locked the chain to the wall. I'm fixed." 

"No." 

"Good heavens, you've seen all there is to see of me. Or do you get a charge 
out of watching a girl pee?" 

"It's not that. I have my reasons." I said. 

From her blush I figured she knew what those reasons were. With a shrug she 
sat down, and afterwards had a bit of a wash and fixed her hair. Then, for a 
moment, I though she was going to balk when I produced the rope but, with 
another shrug, she turned and crossed her wrists behind her back. It was not 
until I'd tied the last knot she said: "Don't be so unkind to me, Cedric." 

"Do you want to come to my bedroom instead?" "No." 

I led my slave girl to the cell. Everything was clean and tidy and ready. It 
was not until I had locked her chain to the ring in the wall and was part 
way through the door that she exploded. 

"Cedric!" 

I turned and cocked an eyebrow. 

"You're not going to leave me like this are you?" 

"Yes. Goodnight." 

"Oh noooo! Not with my hands tied? But it's an awful way to leave a girl. 
It's not fair." 

She was damn cute. I wanted to laugh or to kid her along. I knew her main 
concern. 

But I was severe. 

"The only reason you want your hands is so you can play with your clit." I 
said. 

"Well, you're not going to." 

She blushed and said sullenly. "You're punishing me. I haven't done anything 
to deserve it. I kicked you but I paid for that." 

"Everything about you deserves punishing." I said. "Your whole attitude. 
You're pouting right this moment." 

She stamped a bare foot and twisted against her tied hands in frustration, 
but said nothing. When I locked the door and looked back at her she was 
still busy fighting the rope. 

She was the most beautiful thing in the world. 

I'll admit I hoped for better things come morning. But they weren't there. 
When I looked through the bars she was sitting on her cot, and my heart went 
out to her she looked so damn hopeless and defeated. When she turned to look 
at me I could see she'd been crying. 

"Morning Cathy." 

She had nothing to say. She was mad. But she let herself be led to where I 
locked her chain to the wall and untied her hands. Before I left the 
bathroom and closed the door, I said: "It's all yours, Cathy. Take your 
time." 

"You mean you don't want to watch me pee!" 

She poured a ton of sarcasm into that one. It was like the time of long ago. 
I left her to it and went to make breakfast. 

"I'm not hungry." 

We've all heard that one. I locked her leash to the chair. If she wanted to 
make a fuss she could take the chair along. She glared, hating men. she then 
proceeded to eat a hearty breakfast and lap up the coffee. 

"We'd better come to an understanding, Cedric." 

"We've already got one." 

"No, we haven't. You simply beat me or tie me up in some awful way so that I 
obey you." 

"It works." I said. 

I nearly got her coffee in my face, but she killed the impulse. "I mean 
about my release." She looked at me brightly. 

"There won't be any." 

She became sort of maternally patient with a small awkward boy. "I'm willing 
to make concessions if I can have my freedom." 

"No deal." 

This time it happened. I should have been watching, but I got it in my face. 
While I was cleaning up, she said archly: "Don't tell me. Let me guess. I'll 
be whipped!" 

"Wasn't that an invitation?" I said. 

She took a plate and smashed it on the floor. Then sat looking perky and 
smart. 

"Now I get whipped again." she said gaily. "Aren't I the lucky girl!" 

"You're a damn fool." I said. "And I know what you're up to. You're going to 
provoke me so much and pile up so many punishments I'll feel sorry for you, 
throw up my hands in despair, and set you free." 

"What a lovely scenario! May I smash another plate?" 

"I wouldn't recommend it. Let's both have another cup of coffee and talk. By 
the way, start calling me 'Master' again." 

She did not throw the fresh one at me. She sat brooding. "I haven't anything 
to bribe you with, have I Cedric! You've got all of me here now, 
conveniently chained. 

What's the use of us trying to arrive at anything? the way I am is so 
unfair." 

"You loved me once." I said. 

"That was all so silly. It's past." She looked at me mournfully. "What 
you've got us into now is an anticlimax. We both know every move. You're 
going to hurt me in various ways until I become completely tractable and 
I'll get so I'm grateful for even a kind word. Probably after a month I'll 
want you to take me to bed, just to relieve the tedium." 

"You sure have a gift for lousing up a nice situation." I said. 

"I suppose you'll make me do the dishes and clean up the broken plate? Do I 
get whipped before or after?" 

"After." 

"I'd hoped you wouldn't." She looked at me wistfully. "Don't you ever get 
bored with whipping me?" 

"Never. You are eternally beautiful." 

"And it gives you an erection." 

"I'll start punishing you for remarks like that." 

"Don't! No, please! Don't you see, Cedric, those remarks are me. Take 'em 
away and you've just got a body to beat." 

There was a witchery in her. And she was right. I liked her as she was. I 
joined her game. "O.K. Cathy. I'll whip you only for my own amusement. No 
guilt. Or if you insist on kicking me and stuff like that. And the one other 
" 

Her quick glance was fearful. She knew! 

"If you make a serious attempt to escape and I catch you." 

"Cedric, is that so bad!" Her voice had a small break. "Isn't it a human 
right! Aren't prisoners supposed to try?" 

"I've told you the way it is. You're warned." 

"Oh well." She had control of herself. "You never gave me a chance before. I 
don't suppose you will now. I'll take my chances." She gave me a wry grin. 
"I bloody well have to, don't I!" 

"Are you deliberately calling me 'Cedric' still for a reason?" 

She shrugged. "I suppose so. Dammit, Cedric, can't you understand how 
helpless and hopeless I feel! I'm screwed every way I turn. You've got me 
again. I suppose I'm trying to make the situation as impossible as I can. 
All of me is seething with revolt at what you're doing with me. When I look 
ahead there's nothing but despair. 

Try and see it my way." 

She was magnificent. I kept silent. 

"Look, I'm a girl. Just an ordinary, pretty girl. I haven't done anything 
wrong, but I've been put in prison. It's not an ordinary prison with time 
off for good behaviour and visits from the padre or the Chaplain and a week 
in solitary if I misbehave. It's a prison where I'm whipped for everything 
even for my jailer's private fun. A prison where I'm kept in chains the way 
they did many hundreds of years ago, on the slave plantations. About my only 
privilege is that you're willing to take me to bed. But, from what I've 
read, pretty girl prisoners could always rely on being screwed." She stopped 
for breath, and look at me forlornly. "Oh, Cedric!" 

Dust and ashes. 

Defeat. 

Yet Cathy had made me see her plight more intimately than before. My heart 
softened. There was no way I was going to admit defeat for either of us 
right then. 

She was in the doldrums of a new captivity. But I could show willingness. 

"You've talked yourself out of a whipping." I said. "For this one time." 

She looked at me very seriously and said: "Thank you, Cedric. I'm grateful 
for that, honest I am." 

We had run out of words. 

I transferred her leash to the ring by the sink and left her to do the 
dishes. 

She broke none of them. 

Chapter Nine 

Again. 

He'd done it again. 

For life. 

Oh, damn, damn and double damn. There are not enough expletives in the world 
for what that idiot is doing to me. And I can't move him. He's got me and 
he's glad. He feels a little bit of a bastard but not much. I'm sure he 
thinks I'll promise to marry him after I get settled. Settled! Holy 
horse-shit, that means after he's tied me up and whipped me for a month. 

Marriage! I'm already looking at it as the emergency door, the fire exit, 
the escape hatch. I can't face chains for life. I can't, I can't! I wonder 
if he would marry me now! I don't see how he can. If I said O.K. he'd be 
suspicious. He can't lead me handcuffed before a Justice of the Peace or a 
parson. He's as much up the creek as I am. 

Love! I can act. But there's vibes between us, I think he'd know. He'd 
punish me terribly for that because it would hurt his pride. I've just got 
to be careful about these punishments, I can't stand too many. I wonder if 
he can guess how thankful I am for being forgiven the whipping I practically 
asked for like a damn fool! I'm like a cat with nine lives. I've got so many 
whippings to spend and no more. I must be a miser with them. There will be 
some I can't do anything about, I'll get 'em regardless. 

Oh shit! 

Chains. 

Look at me now! Doing dishes. But chained to the wall. a metal collar locked 
'round my neck. My ankles ironed that's the term, isn't it? I'm in irons! 
Nobody would believe! When I'm done I'll stand and wait for his Highness to 
come and lead me someplace else. I'll try and hold my temper and not break 
another dish. It's going to be hard enough to clean up the one scattered on 
the floor now. My leash isn't all that long ... and I can't reach out with 
my foot. Oh, balls! 

And I've burned my bridges! Nobody's going to bother to look for me. This 
second time will prove I'm just a flighty piece of tail who's not worth 
losing sleep over. I wonder if Nancy Dwight will show up here. I wondered 
why she had me over yesterday. Now I know. Lousy little bitch! Asking me to 
read a mag' while she dashes down to the store. I wish she was chained here 
instead of me. 

Cedric's incurable. I mean, this B & D business. It's part of him. He 
doesn't want to be cured, so he never will be. It's not a lunacy. It's 
something deep, deep down. 

Look at those Templars! Rich successful men, but obsessed by visions of 
naked girls in pain. Maybe it is as well I went there. I certainly did 
learn! Ravel was a devil, but the others weren't angels either. And the 
girls, none of them would leave. Their hunger was too real. Cedric wanted to 
convince me and he'd succeeded. Out there somewhere were a million men who 
wanted to tie me up tight. 

Chains are insidious, they affect my thinking. Because of a chain, and a 
collar 'round my neck I can't go away from this damn sink. I'm controlled. 
It seems impossible that a metal ring round my neck can stop me being, me, 
but it's doing it. 

All I do or plan will be coloured by my awareness of it locked upon my 
throat. I constantly reach up and test it, trying to insert a finger but 
finding its embrace too snug, then tugging at the padlock and the ring by 
which my leash is attached to me. 

Chains are a constant reminder of hopelessness. 

I belong to Cedric. 

"What, nothing broken, Cathy!" 

I just sniff. He's pleased with himself but I'm not. 

"We now come to the matter of my proper title, Cathy." 

Oh gosh, here it is again' He can make me call him 'Master' but I don't want 
to, it's an admission of defeat I'm not ready for. Besides, it's so silly. 
But look at him smirking! 

"Cedric, those chains you've locked on me prevent me walking out of your 
house, but while I'm in it can't we both just be ourselves?" 

"That's the point!" He's jubilant. "The reality is that you're a slave and I 
am your master. You faced up to it before and accepted it, you'll have to do 
it again. That way we are ourselves. When we bicker we're not." 

It's useless. He's morally wrong but rationally right. I look at him 
pathetically. "If you break me again, Cedric, you won't have anything except 
a sort of doll with a set of conditioned responses." 

"That's better than nothing." 

I stamp a bare chained foot that comes down hard on a link and hurts. I am 
impatient with this fatuous idiot. "Cedric, for Pete's sake, you're not that 
hard up!" 

"Every man is." 

"Bullshit. Go and kidnap Nancy Dwight. She'd be flattered." 

"Be serious, Cathy. I'm talking about life." 

"Sure you are life imprisonment! With lashes." 

He is exasperated with me, and I with him. I have a vision of my empty desk 
at the office and of my poor little abandoned apartment. I have been robbed 
of a life. I glare resentfully. 

"Don't be dramatic. If you were happy here once you can be again. You're 
forcing yourself to be disagreeable." 

There's just enough truth in what he says to make me angry. I clank a chain 
at him. 

"I was nuts. I should have gone to the police. They'd have sent you to a 
hospital for screwballs " 

He's gone all white and funny. He stares at me a moment as though seeing me 
for the first time, and then unlocks my leash from the ring and leads me 
from the kitchen. I can guess where we're going. 

"I didn't mean that last bit." I offer lamely. 

"You said it." 

Oh, gosh, I've torn it now! Me and my motor mouth! He's mixing up his pride, 
his dignity, his ego into something I'm going to have to eat. 

"Cedric, don't do this to me please don't!" 

"Do what?" 

"Well, whatever you're going to do." 

"Only a guilty conscience would say that." 

He is insufferable. I give a furious yank on the leash and tear it from his 
grasp. I turn and leap and trip on the ankle chain I'd forgotten. From the 
floor I look up at a very angry Cedric Hollings and blurt out: "Alright, 
beat me if I'm not allowed to be human." "Get up." 

I stand. He retrieves the chain, he tugs harder than he needs. My chains 
tinkle musically as I follow to what awaits. 

"You can have your choice, Cathy. Either the bar or the bench?" 

Sounds as though I'm to be caned. I look at what is offered, and hate both. 
I reject. 

"I don't want either, Cedric." 

"Lie on the bench." 

He knows I hate the bench, but we have gone beyond where I may plead. I 
shrug disdainfully and drape myself on its contoured surface. A belt is 
instantly buckled across the small of my back to keep me safe while my leash 
and shackles are taken from me. The collar remains. While it is locked on me 
I will never forget what I am. 

"Cedric, I beg of you, don't do this. Don't beat me, Look, I'll be as humble 
as you like!" 

He keeps a grim silence while he ties me. His ropes are as uptight as we 
ourselves. 

Wrists and ankles: I lose them one by one to savage little bands I cannot 
fight and which he makes bite deep. Then the one is drawn into the softness 
of my thighs which, with an additional brutal buckling of the belt, causes 
my shivering bottom to rear its curves to receive the punishment I am about 
to get because I'm a scared girl who wants to go home. 

It's not fair. 

He's crazy. 

Pain. 

"There isn't any other way, Cathy. We think there ought to be but there 
isn't. After I've punished you we'll be able to talk." 

"It isn't a punishment. It's just being mean." 

My words end in a yelp of shock as the cane slices my tight bottom. The pain 
is excruciating. I cannot move. 

Cedric Hollings canes my immobilised derriere with a workmanlike vigour. He 
probably believes he's doing the right thing for us both, but I abandon 
analysis and turn to pain as its scalds and scorches, its cuts and bruisings 
take possession of my tightly tied nakedness. I have come by a thing about 
screaming. I don't want to scream. It helps the pain but diminishes Me, and 
I don't want to be diminished made less than the pitiful slave creature he 
has reduced me to. I bite my lip, I thrust my chin down on the bench, but as 
the blows cut and rake across my flesh I make small disgusting moans and 
cries which I hope will make him feel as ashamed as they do me. 

He is not ashamed. 

My beating goes on and on. He spaces the strokes, but their rhythm in 
implacable. 

I wonder if he is making the count that I am not. I am sure my wrists and 
ankles are bleeding. I try not to struggle and heave but I cannot control 
that response to my agony. What does it matter! Nothing matters anymore. 
Catherine Hazlett has been sold into slavery without a dollar changing 
hands. Her price is pain. She pays. 

"Well?" 

Cedric's voice comes to me through the blanket of agony in which I am 
enveloped. I struggle to marshal my wits. 

"Well what" 

It was the wrong answer. The cane resumes its beat. From beneath its 
ceaseless admonition I tried to capitulate. 

"Stop it! stop it! I'll say what you want." 

"Say it then." 

"You are my master, Master." 

The test resumed. I cried in desperation. "I said it' I said it!" 

In the pause that ensued his voice made me shrivel. 

"You should have heard yourself, Cathy. Such a tone of voice." 

"But it's the cane that says it not me!" 

The cane picked up where my protest had interrupted its cadence. I squealed 
in outrage and sort of despair. I reject a noble resolve to die under its 
impacts. I ejaculate gaspingly: "Master, Master, Master It stops. I cock a 
hopeful eye. 

"O.K. Now say its sensibly." 

It's a bitter pill but I swallow it. I recognise its truth and hate it the 
more. I hear a voice I wish was someone else's "You are my Master. Thank you 
for whipping me. I guess you were right, it's the only way I'm going to face 
up to being your slave. I was silly. I should have had more sense than to be 
stubborn. Master, please forgive a foolish slave." 

My master is still dubious. "Sure there's no sarcasm in that long winded 
affair someplace?" 

"No Master - oh no - honest!" 

"Hmmm!" He is pleased, I can tell. "Damn funny isn't it, that you had to 
have that beating." 

"I'm a girl, Master." 

"O.K. But now we've cleared up that little obstacle don't overdo it. You can 
be damn cunning with those 'Masters' of yours." 

Much macho! 

"Yes, Master. I'll watch it." 

I wish I was a Samson to tear my bonds asunder and slap that pleased smirk 
off my master's face. But I am not! I am a slave girl and I'd damn well 
better bear that in mind My bottom blazes hideously. I am still tied so I 
can hardly twitch. 

"I should leave you there for the day." 

"If you wish, Master." 

"But I made you a promise." 

While I am untied, I wonder. I no longer resent the locking of my leash and 
ankle shackles. Why should I! They are the only clothing I am every likely 
to wear. My hands are left free, but I use them only to explore my wealed 
behind. 

Cedric's house has everything. His workshop is well equipped. I am tethered 
to the usual ring so that I can stand and watch him being clever. 

From an ordinary tin can he cuts a wide strip. He takes my hand and gently 
inserts this thin protection between my wrist and the Templar bracelet, The 
bracelet with my wrist inside is then clasped in a vice. My Master takes a 
hacksaw and goes to work. 

In five minutes the bracelet comes apart, my wrist emerges unscathed. I 
offer my other hand. Soon that too is free. Ravel has gone. 

We stand and look at each other. One task has been completed, we must move 
forward to the next. 

But we don't have one! 

This is the weakness of the slave condition: too many vacuums to be filled. 
I would like to press this knowledge upon this man who has made himself my 
master, but my bottom still hurts too much for me to want to take the risk. 
I wait respectfully. 

"Turn around." 

The old familiar order! I reflect on how many slave girls through the 
centuries have turned their backs and crossed their wrists. I now do it 
myself to have them tightly and cunningly bound. I might as well be 
handcuffed for all the hope I have of slipping such a tie. 

My little cell! The hours and nights I have spent chained to its ring make 
it mine. It welcomes me with sunshine through the bars of its high small 
window. A massive click announces my attachment to the wall. 

"A little time to think." announces Cedric brightly. 

"But I don't want time to think." I wail. "Thinking is the last thing I 
need." 

"What do you need?" 

"Freedom." 

Thoughtless truth. Oh damn, why did I have to! Now I'll get it again. My 
master's face is a thundercloud. 

"Do you want me to whip it out of you again, Cathy?" 

"No, master." 

"Then why harp!" 

"How would you like to be tied and chained the way I am, and wear a collar 
locked to the wall, and sit alone in a little cell!" My disaffection 
overflows, I cannot halt it. 

"You've sat here often enough before." 

"Well, I don't want to again. Something's changed I'd go crazy. 

"O.K. I'll put you on the bar this time and use the whip." 

He actually sounds weary and disappointed in me. I boil over in fear and 
outrage. I emit a frantic: "No!" 

"Can anyone join in the fight?" 

Nancy Dwight's voice jolts us both. She saunters into the cell, her bright 
eyes curious and busy, her satchel slung. She holds up an admonitory finger. 

"Uhuh! No harsh words. I didn't break and enter. You left the back door 
unlocked. 

I'm just being neighbourly and making sure you're both O.K." 

"You sure do have a nerve!" 

"Well, when a girlfriend vanishes out of my apartment!" 

"O.K. So now you've seen where she is." Cedric sounded flustered. "Now take 
your little bag and leave. You can lock the door on your way out." 

"Get the police." I cry recklessly. "Run, Nancy, call the cops." 

Nancy does not run. Instead, she turns me this way and that to examine how 
I'm fixed. She is intrigued. 

"My, my. You two do take this B & D seriously, don't you!" 

I stamped hurtfully and shouted at her. "This isn't playing. He won't let me 
go. I'm being made a prisoner against my will. Help me." 

"A lover's tiff?" She was infuriatingly superior. "I sure do envy you two 
you have the damnedest times." 

I look at Cedric, he's pleased as punch, all panic gone. He is enjoying my 
dismay and Nancy's obtuseness. He's safe. But I'm in jeopardy. 

"If You don't help me he'll keep me here forever." I almost scream it into 
Nancy's delighted face. 

"Do you two sort of rehearse? I mean, write out a script, a scenario for 
each day, or afternoon, or whatever time you have?" 

"How'd you come, Nancy?" Cedric's voice was casual. 

"Don't tell him a thing!" I hurl my warning. 

"In my car. Just an impulse." She smiles sweetly at us both. 

"No commissions today?" 

"Hell no! A total loose end. If this keeps up I'll have to sell my camera." 

"Nancy please! Get out! Go to the police! I beg you!" I put everything I had 
into my pleading. 

A glimmer of concern flickered in her eyes. "Oh Cath', I'm Sorry. Look, 
darling, I'm sure Cedric will unfix you so we can all have a cup of coffee, 
or something. I didn't mean to." 

She turned to make her demand of the man I must call master. But Cedric 
wasn't with us any more. 

"He had gone out and locked the door." 

"We've had it!" I wailed. "Oh, Nancy, why didn't you run!" 

"Oh, he's just having fun." 

"He isn't, he isn't! Oh Nancy!" 

"He can't possibly keep me here. Don't be silly!" 

"He can! He can! Don't you see, you've just told him no one knows you're 
here. 

You'll just vanish the same way it happens to me." 

"A neat summation." said Cedric from beyond the bars. 

We turn and face his beaming smile. The world's his oyster. If one slave 
girl is good, two will be better. He gives his attention to Nancy. 

"You can push your clothes through the bars and your satchel." 

Nancy at last gets the message loud and clear. Her response is clarion. 

"Drop dead." 

"And I'll want you to back up and stick your hands through to be 
handcuffed." 

"Look, Cedric, grow up. You can't possibly kidnap me." 

"You are already kidnapped." 

"Open that door." 

"You are now a slave and subject to discipline. Watch it! Cathy will be a 
big help." 

He smiled. 

He departed and I get Nancy's full attention. "He doesn't mean it, does he? 
You're both putting me on still?" 

She reads the answer in my face. "You mean he really thinks I'll do those 
things?" 

"You'll have to. He can always use force." 

"Well, Cath', I'll untie your hands, just in case." 

"No! Oh don't! He'd punish us. If he wants me tied I have to stay tied." I 
gaze at her imploringly. 

Nancy shakes her head. It is sinking in slowly. I can't blame her for 
finding it unreal. 

In gasping urgent sentences I tell her the whole story. She blinks and 
comprehends. "Can't we jump him?" "With me helpless like this!" "But 
there'll come times?" "And get the skin whipped off our backs?" I turn and 
display my bottom "Oh Cath', I don't think I'd want that. You poor dear." 

"No food, no water for either of you until you comply, Miss Dwight." 

The master is back, triumphant. 

"You're a son of a bitch, Cedric." Nancy stripped and passed her total 
belongings through the bars. Then turned and surrendered her hands. When she 
turned again I saw the shining chrome joining her wrists in the same 
helplessness as my own. But she remains undaunted. 

"O.K. you rotten bastard. Screw us both to a frazzle and let us go." 

"Ten strokes, Nancy." 

"What the hell for?" 

"One son of bitch and one bastard." 

"You mean I can't even talk?" 

"Only respectfully." 

"He means it Nancy!" My sharp warning will save her another five. 

Cedric departs with his bundle. We sit on the little cot, two helpless naked 
girls contemplating life imprisonment. I related and relate. After hours and 
hours of tugging at her cuffed wrists Nancy comes to believe in slavery. She 
does not like it, and she will rebel. 

My heart bleeds for her. 

It should bleed for me! I am furious. For dinner, we are suitably restrained 
as to feet and hands. We clink our handcuffs at our master while we eat. A 
faint bonhomie is engendered by the food and wine. Our Master is generous 
and expansive in his victory. Nancy has been soundly thrashed and is 
guardedly polite. 

My own caned bottom is tender on the chair. 

Then it happens. 

Our Master chains me back here in the cell and takes a pleased and giggling 
Nancy to his bed. 

Oh damn! 

And there's nothing I can do! I turned him down, didn't I! I did not want 
him. Yet now I'm so furiously jealous I could cry. Or scream! I cannot beat 
upon the bars just to be mean he has tied my hands again behind my back. I 
can't even console myself while they make love. I have to lie here awkwardly 
on my tummy and feel sorry for myself and wonder if he's chained her to the 
bed. I lay awake hoping he'll just screw her once and then return his new 
slave for the night; presumably she gives satisfaction. I am still weeping 
in rage and chagrin when I fall asleep. 

At breakfast he can't do enough for her. She's still safely chained but she 
does not mind. Cedric's prowess in bed had earned him her respect in a 
manner no whip would ever do. I am chained to the ring by the sink to do the 
dishes, last nights as well as this mornings and I do 'em alone. Nancy has 
the grace to give me a guilty glance as she is led away. My Master scarcely 
notices me. I try and make my face register a stoney indifference. The only 
reason I do not smash every dish upon the floor is that I do not want Nancy 
to watch me whipped. 

Now I just stand. The dishes are done, but my leash is still locked to the 
ring by the sink. I feel silly and ignored, unable to leave this small 
domestic scene where I have been humiliated. I am certain my master flaunts 
Nancy at me to teach me a lesson. I wonder what they are doing. 

Cedric is pointedly offhand as he leads me to the cell. I am almost in tears 
to think I must spent the day chained there alone while they enjoy 
themselves. I do not want to plead, but I do. 

"Please, Master, don't lock me up for the day, it's so lonely." 

No answer, just a jerk on the chain. I clatter obediently, hating every 
hobbled step. 

But Nancy is already there. I feel better. She sports a collar and leash and 
shackled feet and is attached to the opposite wall. Her eyes shine as she 
watches the locking of my leash. A strange silence is upon us all as though 
we await an explosion, but all that happens is two pairs of handcuffs for 
which we silently turn our backs and proffer our wrists. I am sure he has 
clicked mine tighter than hers. 

With out a word, our Master goes away and locks us in. 

That's the end of silence. "Isn't he super!" Nancy breathes. 

"No he isn't, he's a mean bastard." 

"He screws so marvellously!" She hasn't heard a word I said. "And all these 
fun and games!" 

It is as well I am helpless. I would scratch and bite this carnal little 
mink with her inflamed twat. I try to dissolve her euphoria "Nancy, snap out 
of it. We're prisoners for life. He's never going to let us go. Can't you 
get it through your thick skull!" 

"Oh, Cathy, isn't it lovely!" 

"What's lovely about being chained naked in a rotten little cell!" 

She looks around, seeing nothing but a rainbow. "It's a darling little cell, 
and these chains...don't they give you the loveliest shivers." 

"If you're that horny." I tell her coldly, "I can give you three or four 
orgasms and then you'll feel better, at least more sensible." 

"Oh, would you, darling! I'm just absolutely on fire. I think our chains are 
long enough, he's so sweet." 

"Didn't you get satisfied in bed last night?" 

"Oh of course." She giggles happily. "I absolutely lost count. That chain on 
my ankle was a marvellous horn-maker. But it's like he's started a fire that 
gets bigger and bigger how do you want me?" 

We arrange ourselves as our chains dictate. Nancy sees only a giggling 
novelty as we get hair and links in our mouth because we have no hands. She 
does not share my frustration, she is still glowing from the attention of 
Cedric's competent cock. 

My tongue has no trouble in bringing her to a succession of volcanic 
eruptions. I'm so hurt and cheesed off I allow her to give me a little 
comfort too. I pretend it's Cedric in there working away at me. When we are 
breathless and limp we sit on the cot in our helplessness and take a good 
look at each other. 

Nancy is a pert and cute kid with a lovely body. I foresee a lot of lonely 
nights. 

"Aren't we lucky!" says my competition. 

"Don't you want get out of here!" 

"Oh no!" her eyes are shining. "This prisoner kick makes sex ten times as 
good." 

"But your life, don't you see you've lost it!" 

"Oh darling, I've found it. He's wonderful! He says I can call him 'Master.' 
Doesn't that crinkle your cunt!" 

"Not mine. I want out." 

"I don't! I think you're jealous, darling." She grins impishly. "Don't be 
that way. If he doesn't fuck you because he's fucking me I'll make it up to 
you with my tongue." 

"What if he chains us apart?" 

"Oh he won't darling. I'll ask him not to." 

She is a small rutting mink secure in her concupiscence. But surely 
something can bring her down to earth! I ask sourly: "Did you enjoy that 
thrashing he gave you yesterday?" 

She positively shivers with delight. "Isn't it awful while it's happening, 
darling a sort of beautiful awful! And afterwards!" Her eyes roll in 
ecstasy. 

I long to kick her, or slap her silly face. We are lost! Even if Cedric let 
Nancy go free she would do nothing to rescue me. For her, this incredible 
slavery has become rational, she would look back at this house only with 
longing and affection. 

Our Master enjoys us. We are his own beautiful pets safe in a cage. Next 
time he peers at us through the bars I peruse a faint hope. 

"Master, now that Nancy's so happy here you don't need me. Please let me 
go?" 

"Sorry, couldn't possibly." 

"I think she's jealous... Nancy giggles. 

"Please, Master, I'm no good to you any more." 

"That's for me to judge. Stop whining." 

I am furious, I blow my top. "Don't be such a S.O.B. Cedric. You've got what 
you want, Nancy will lick your boots." 

"Good idea, I'll have you do that. For now, stop pushing." 

"Are you such a weak idiot you have to bolster your ego by making me sit 
uselessly in this damn cell!" 

"It needn't have been useless, that was your idea." 

"You're trying to make me jealous, you're treating me like an asshole." 

I've done it again, gone too far! But I don't care, I don't. Oh damn, look 
at his face. 

Oh help!" 

Nancy is intrigued by the click of locks and by our shameful procession to 
the place where I will be given pain. There are tears in my eyes, it is all 
so unjust. Our master absently locks her leash to a ring in the punishment 
room wall where she will have a fine view of my shame. I take a silly 
comfort in knowing that, for a little while, I will receive his full 
attention how ridiculous can a girl get! 

I stand, seething and sorry, while I lose my leash and shackles. I am 
politely invited to drape myself on the hated bench. I look from my amused 
but angry master to Nancy's entranced attention. I'm damned if I'll plead or 
try to reason while she can hear every word. But I do ask tearfully. 
"Please, Master, not in front of her?" 

"Get on that bench, Cath'. Right now!" 

It is awkward with tied hands, but I manage. Perhaps in the awfulness of 
what's about to happen to me I can forget those avid female eyes. But oh my 
poor seat, its last dose was so recent! It rears itself over that beastly 
hump and cringes with a life of its own whilst my waist is buckled down and 
my ankles tied. 

"Let's try it with yoru hands the way they are." My master says cheerfully. 
"Just keep 'em well up, I wouldn't want to hurt them." 

It is horrible. I have to lay on my breasts. When I pull up my tied wrists 
to leave my bottom unobstructed for the cane my elbows seem to stick out 
like wings. My behind is immovable but I bet the rest of me behaves 
shamefully. Oh, shit! 

"Tell Nancy why you're being punished, Cathy." 

The bastard! I flare at him. "How should I know! You tell her!" 

The cane cuts my bottom in two. I almost rear off the bench. 

"Tell Nancy why you're being punished, Cathy." 

"I'm being punished, Nancy, because I was rude to my master." 

"You might mention whether you think its deserved." My Master's voice is 
studiously casual. 

"And I do deserve it, Nancy, I was silly and angry. I hope he whips me 
good." 

"Wasn't there something else?" Cedric's voice is almost dreamy. 

My tears come, he is too cruel. "I was jealous of you, Nancy." 

"And are you still?" 

"Yes I am. Oh damn! Don't be so beastly to me. Of course I'm jealous you're 
just being mean. I hate you both." 

The cane begins its rhythm on my flesh. 

My Master makes me scream. 

In front of Nancy. 

I'd sooner die. 

It is an awful kind of awful. On top of what my bottom had already gotten 
and now this! My breasts take a beating as I twist and heave and howl. I 
don't care if Nancy does watch, damn her! I can't bear this pain, I just 
can't. Piss on Nancy! I'll scream and scream I'll put their teeth on edge 
with my screams. Oh Master! 

When it stops I sob my tribute. "Thank you, Master." 

"What are you, Cathy?" 

"I am your slave, Master." 

"And Nancy. She might need your services..." 

"I will be your slave, Nancy." 

They are pleased with me and what the cane has made me. They take me back to 
the cell and lock my leash and chain my feet; maybe I will never have my 
hands again. My master checks my handcuffs and tightens them one notch. 
Nancy follows him, leashed and happy, when he goes. The door locks with a 
hateful snap. 

I am alone in the cell. 

Naked, chained, helpless. 

I hurt. 

They will be happy, and make love, and laugh, while I lie here miserably on 
one hip to ease my blazing bottom. I cry and cry, my tears are a 
distillation of pain and frustration and anger and sorrow. 

They are jealous tears. 

It it an act to punish me! Does he really like Nancy! Have I spoiled 
everything by being Me! 

Have I! 

I wrench at my handcuffs fretfully. 

Will my Master take me back into his heart! I do not know. 


End
