HIT-143 Chain Me Forever
By F.E. Campbell


CHAPTER ONE - THE SILKEN CORDS

Philippa Coyle assured herself this was not happening. The thudding of her heart denied 
her denial, but it was a delicious savouring of a moment by which her life must be forever 
changed.

"With mademoiselle Lafleur my hands would be tied behind my back now." Adrienne 
informed brightly. "She always tied me in certain ways for certain occasions. I brought the 
rope."

"Yes, of course." Philippa was aware of striving to keep pace. "The rope--"

"It's silk, and we've got it in lots of colours and different weights. For tying my wrists it 
shouldn't be too thick, y'know. "The bright young eyes sparkled helpfully.

"No, no I suppose not."

"I say, would you mind if I called you 'Lippa? I've been wanting to terribly."

"Of course not. It's rather sweet."

"I adore it, it's so much You! And you'll call me 'Dree?"

"That's nice too. Dree and Lippa... ! We're going to be so much together--"

"Oh, ever so much!" The younger girl's eyes twinkled. "You've never done this before, have 
you. I can tell. Don't be nervous about me, I'll help."



Philippa chose her words carefully. She must spoil nothing. She did not know how fragile 
this loveliness might be, but it must be preserved. "I only know what I've been told, dear." She 
grinned amusedly. "I'm twenty-six, so that puts me a year on the safe side. Isn't it twenty-five 
when a girl stops being tied?"

"And I'm eighteen. That gives us seven lovely years. But, I say, Lippa, would you mind 
dreadfully tying me now? I think you should."

The soft rope felt alive. Philippa could swear she sensed a current. The gaze of the two 
girls locked in female communion for several long moments before she dared trust her voice. 
"Front or back, Dree?"

"Oh back, of course!" There was a childish reproof in the instant exclamation. "I must 
never, never be allowed to wriggle loose. But tied in front--!"

"You can use your teeth or find a sharp object... " Philippa laughed. "I've seen the movies."

"I've always been surprised at what I can get out of." Dree apologized. "But mademoiselle 
was ever so clever. When she tied me I stayed tied. I'm sure it won't take you long-?"

"Turn round then, and give me your hands, Dree." Compliance was graceful but almost 
eager. "Palm to palm or wrists crossed, Lippa?"

Philippa was choked with emotion. This girl was desirable beyond imagining. Why not tell 
her now! Make confession? But there was still so much of her own self of which she was 
uncertain. "Which way do you like best, Dree?"

"You're not supposed to ask me." The young voice was amused and faintly superior. "A 
Governess doesn't ask a naughty girl how she'd like her hands tied."

"But I'm not a Governess, and you're not a naughty girl!"

"No. I'm just being silly. And it's so nice to have someone again-I'll cross my wrists, Lippa. 
That's the easiest-" The young hands and slender wrists were of a sweetness beyond fantasy. 
There was none of the rebellion of clenched fists. Beyond the obediently crossed wrists Dree's 
hands were limply natural but, testingly as the rope circled and tightened, they flexed to get 
the feel of a fresh new binding. She said nothing as she stood erect with shoulders back while 
the silk made her captive. Both girls were breathing fast, Lippa totally absorbed in her winding
of the cords.

"You're going to be clever, darling, I can feel." The strained shoulders weaved as fingers 
stretched. "I may be able to get out of this first one... though I'm not a bit sure--"

"What happens then, Dree?"

"I have to be punished. I'm sure Auntie told you. But not this first time." Dree's voice sank 
to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or maybe the second?"

Philippa tugged as hard as she deemed wise. "Yes, she told me. It seems awfully unkind."

"Oh, but it isn't!" The self elected captive sounded shocked. "If I didn't get punished 
nothing would be right. Anyone anywhere who does something wrong gets punished, don't 
they!"

Philippa saw faint lines of distinction demanding caution. But she could not hide 
amusement. "Is it so bad for a captive girl to seek her freedom?" She asked mischievously.

"Of course it is. When it's me. Or someone like me." The young judgement was firm and 
final.

"Where are the others who are like you, Dree?"

"In Auntie's Book. I'll tell you in a minute when we're talking."

"But about the punishment. If you didn't bother to get loose you'd never be punished. So 
why bother?"

"I think you're teasing, Lippa." Dree half turned, pouting. "You know perfectly well why."

"Mmmmmmm, I'm not sure. I want to hear it from you. Tell me."

"I have to get loose if I can, silly. Otherwise it would be cheating, to let mademoiselle or 
you think you had me safe when actually you didn't."

"Well then, shouldn't it be Mademoiselle or I who gets punished for not tying you 
properly?"

"You are teasing!" Dree admonished. "Haven't you got me tied yet?"

"Almost. But there's another reason you try and get loose, isn't there?"

"Just mischief. Playing with fire. A sort of gorgeous fear of what's going to happen to me if
I find the right knot. That's not strange for a girl, is it?"

"I'm sure it's not for you." Philippa laughed. "There! You're tied. How's it feel?"

"Yummy! I bet you I get loose. But not right quick. Now let's have that lovely talk. On these
occasions I have to sit on this stool, or when I've been bad I stand."

Philippa felt herself one huge thudding pulse as she watched her bound captive wriggle 
and grimace, then use a foot to edge a tall three legged stool to where she desired it. Having 
her wrists tied behind her back did not appear to discommode this magic creature in the least.
She edged herself up and sat smiling and expectant. The older girl knew herself in possession 
of perfection. Stumblingly, she explained: "We each inherit half of Auntie's Estate, there's quite
a lot of it. You come into possession on your twenty-fifth birthday."

Dree giggled. "When I'm untied."

"Until then I'm the executor and your guardian. I look after the estate."

"And keep me properly tied up."

"Yes. Auntie was very definite about that. She had talked to me a year ago. As though she 
had a premonition--"

"But you do want to, darling? Please say you do?" The young pleading voice was urgent.

"Of course I do, dear!" It was in Philippa's heart to say she wanted to tie Dree's exciting 
femaleness more than she wanted anything else in the world. But the time was so young and 
it was all still incredible. "I may tie you tighter than you want."

"Oh Lippa, it's so good to have you." The girl perched on the stool exhaled a sigh of 
immense relief. "I've been so lost. Auntie's been... gone... for two months. And you in the 
States... ! And there was all that running around London with mademoiselle to lawyers and the
bank and... places. Then poor dear mademoiselle returned to France-I'm so glad Auntie left 
her some money. But do you realise I wasn't tied at all during all that time! Mademoiselle 
wasn't sure what we should do about it, or if it was quite proper. This is the first time my 
hands have been tied in simply ages. It feels so good."

Philippa Coyle knew a wave of concupiscence beyond anything she had ever experienced. 
The insouciant nymph on the stool radiated an aura of innocent lubricity hard to bear without 
response. Dree was a treasure worth guarding with her life. "I'll always make it good for you, 
darling." She promised. Then, soberly,: "I suppose you know a condition of my inheritance is 
to live here with you for the next seven years?"

"I know. But, Lippa, does it make a difference? I mean--?"

"It makes no difference--" Philippa Coyne swept to her feet and embraced the slender 
figure on the stool with loving arms. "I want to stay. I want you... " She kissed two ready lips. 
"Do you believe me?"

"Yes, oh yes... Oh darling! And tying me isn't a nuisance?"

"Tying your hands was the most beautiful thing I've ever done. Auntie told me a lot about 
it, and the two of you.

Now I understand." Philippa turned her captive about and examined her work. The silken 
strands were still tight round the girlish wrists. The hands and fingers moved in their own 
sweet illustration of helplessness as though endowed with gamin mischief. In a wave of 
tenderness she asked anxiously: "They're not too tight? They don't hurt?"

"Only a nice hurt." Dree giggled. "I bet you don't know about nice hurtings." She wriggled 
back into position. "Do sit down, darling, and let's get on with this talk. You can read the book 
Auntie's left you anytime later. But for now-I say, Lippa dear, do you want me naked?"

"Naked...?" Philippa was groping in memory.

"Of course, naked. Auntie and mademoiselle kept me naked nearly all the time. It's much 
the best, y'know. 'Cept when we go out or there's company--sometimes even then."

"The best...?" Philippa was beginning to feel younger than her charge. "Why is it best, 
Dree?"

"Well because...!" The laughing superiority was back in Dree's voice. "A girl ties better when
she doesn't wear clothes. I mean she's more available and less likely to get loose, and when 
I'm punished I have to be naked anyway." Once more Philippa's loins flamed. This 
child/woman's assured naivete was incandescent. Any question seemed superfluous or stupid 
but she asked another. "Why naked when you're punished, dear?"

"Well, you can't whip a girl with her clothes on, can you?" Dree asked reasonably. "And 
there's other things too where naked's best." Her face lit up as with an afterthought: "And I'm 
awfully pretty when I'm naked. Oh, Lippa, I know you'll like my breasts and things!"

A cornucopia of riches! And it was bound. It could not go away. Philippa Coyne took a 
deep steadying breath and strove for the practical. Her query was casual: "Do you remember 
when Auntie first tied you, Dree?"

"Not really. It was sort of always there. Up until I was twelve Auntie used to tie me 
whenever it pleased her, a sort of mood thing. I think I must have been ten when she started 
to tie me in bed every night as a regular routine. First it was just my ankles, I remember we 
laughed a lot about me not being able to walk. Then she tied my wrists too. Or maybe she 
tied me to the bed in various ways, but always so I could sleep. That was why she got the 
handcuffs."

"Handcuffs... ? You actually have some?"

"Oh, of course! Several pairs. They're ever so convenient."

"Why not use them then?"

"Oh, we will, Lippa, we will. But rope's really the nicest because you've sort of woven it on 
me with your own fingers. It's like a piece of you on me." Dree grinned in memory. "That first 
pair of handcuffs had to be put away in a drawer, they were too big for me then. I could slip 
out of them easily. Auntie spent a lot of money to get a pair made to my measure. They fit me
beautifully and enabled her to cuff my wrist to the bed at night. It was terribly simple but we 
both adored the effect."

"When mademoiselle came did she... did she... did she-?"

"Understand about me being tied? Why yes, she had been experienced in France. Auntie 
chose her specially. She was my twelfth birthday present. The first thing she did was take away
my clothes and tie my hands behind my back. She disapproved of my ever being untied. She 
believed it was bad for a girl that age to have her hands fluttering around. Sometimes she 
even took me into London, naked and with my hands tied under my cape. She was so 
wonderful...!"

"And she was a Governess, she taught?"

"Of course. Mademoiselle and Auntie. Between them they taught me three languages, and
we gave literature a good going over. I won't ever disgrace you, Lippa."

"You wouldn't disgrace a Prince, darling." Philippa mused thoughtfully over something she
was compelled to know. "Did they explain why you must be kept tied and why most of the 
girls out there--" She waved vaguely at the Universe, "are allowed to run around free?"

"Lippa, don't you know?" It was Dree's first embarrassment.

"Auntie explained. But I'd sooner hear it from you."

"It sounds so conceited, Lippa." Pink flooded captive cheeks. "Girls like me are the 
"Special" ones. We're kept captive for women... or other girls. We aren't allowed to waste 
ourselves on men." The youngsters reassurance was anxious. "There's ever so many like me. 
Mademoiselle told me... All over Europe... and here too."

"And you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind! It's all so wonderful. I'm so lucky." Dree's anxiety was patent. "I've met 
so many boys and men around town and socially. I wouldn't want to be let loose to go to 
them, not even when I'm twenty-five."

"You felt no attraction, no curiosity?"

"No." Again the cheeks were pink. "Auntie and mademoiselle both told me about Sex. We 
discussed it, and they got me books." The pink deepened. "They were ever so kind, and did 
something they must have hated. Just to--Well, to be fair to me, I suppose. One day when I 
was fifteen they put me in a room. I was naked and my hands were tied the way you've just 
tied me. Waiting for me in that room was a man. He was naked too...

Philippa Coyne was angry. Her exclamation was breathless with disgust. "How utterly 
beastly--?"

"Not really." The youthful apology was placating. "I was shocked out of my skin, of course, 
and I tore like crazy at my bound wrists. But he was polite and pleasant and didn't come near 
me at first. He explained he was someone Auntie knew in business, and that he was doing this 
as a favour to her and for money... " · Philippa was furious at the vision of Dree at fifteen, 
naked, bound, and tossed to a man. "Auntie did that to you?" She asked incredulously.

"I expect I'm telling this badly." The captive twisted against the ropes on her wrists as 
though in memory of shame. "It wasn't the way you think. Sure, I had to do whatever he told 
me. But it was an object lesson. We had all afternoon for me to discover all about men. He 
would teach me. I could ask questions--"

"But, Dree darling, bound and naked--!"

"I was always bound and naked. You have to remember that. After the first moments I lost 
awareness of both those things, they were natural to me. He kept his distance, and after a few 
minutes I was able to... well, sort of examine him. To begin to learn--"

"But at fifteen! To lose your-!"

"My virginity!" Dree laughed at the older girl's outrage. "No, I didn't lose that, or my 
maidenhead, or anything. He talked to me in an ordinary sort of way, and I asked a question 
or two. By that time I was curious. He seemed harmless, neither young nor old, handsome or 
ugly. He was just plain ordinary, which I suppose was part of the whole idea. Then he told me 
he was going to hold me in his arms."

"Ugh!"

"That's what I thought too. But he was being literal. It was a demonstration of that silly 
thing they have hanging between their legs. With my nakedness up against his the penis 
began to harden and become erect, just as it had said in the books. I became fascinated by 
the feel of it against me and asked if I could look. He stood back and gave me a detailed 
instruction on the nature of the thing."

"But he didn't use it?"

"Not the way you mean. What he did do was play with me-all over! I didn't like that, but he
persisted until my pussy responded. Then he pushed the tip of that big hard thing up and 
down against my slit so it finally got about half its head inside me. Then he took it away and 
repeated the process behind. I had to bend over for that. He made it clear he was only 
demonstrating the mechanics. The real thing would have been for the whole of that monster 
to go up my inside."

"A perfect gentleman!" The comment was bitter.

"Well, I suppose he was." Dree squirmed apologetically. "He didn't use force, y'know. But 
the next thing I didn't like at all. He had me kneel and take his male organ in my mouth. I had 
to take as much of it in as I possibly could and then suck it a few times. I thought I'd choke--"

"He made you do that! You know what it's called, don't you!"

"Yes, I know. But there again he stopped. Nothing happened. I had just been allowed to 
make a discovery. He stood back and talked about odds and ends until his penis sort of lost 
interest and went limp. I say, Lippa, can men control those things?"

"Not entirely. They're a source of embarrassment sometimes." Philippa was about to add a 
caustic comment when she became aware of something that should not be. A mischievous girl
was holding out a length of rope.

"Is this yours, darling?"

"You little so and so! How the devil...?"

"I told you I'd get loose. I'm awfully clever at it. You're not angry are you?"

"Of course not, silly. Just astounded. Maybe I should use handcuffs on you."

"No don't! Not right away. You've got to get used to using rope on me. All you did wrong 
was one strand too many. It's fatal. Once I get my thumb under I can get more and more 
slack."

Philippa Coyne knew a great welling of joy. To tie this darling Dree... and tie her, and tie 
her forever! Her command was pure laughter. "Alright, Smartypants, turn round."

"Shouldn't I take my clothes off?"

"No. Wait 'till I punish you."

"But, Lippa, that might be ages! I'm going to be ever so well behaved for you. And I've got 
one more free escape-haven't I?"

"Yes, I'll allow you another. As for punishments and nudity, leave that to me. Are you sure 
you're not an exhibitionist?"

"Oh, Lippa darling! It's just that mademoiselle kept me naked always. I feel sort of 
disrespectful like this."

"Be a nice change for you. Now, turn round and put your hands behind your back."

Obedience was instant. Laughing eyes looked back over a squared shoulder. "Mmmmmm, 
so fierce! You said that beautifully."

With Dree's female scent teasing her nostrils, Philippa thoughtfully uncrossed the willing 
wrists and placed the small hands palm to palm. She felt her girl captive tense, and heard the 
indrawn breath of surprise and excitement, but neither spoke. With care and rapt attention 
she circled the pinkly chafed wrists several times then banded them snug with a cinch around 
the centre."

"Oh, Lippa, you do know tricks!"

"I know that one, you little minx. Where will I find more rope?"

"But, darling, that was lots! Remember what I said--"

"Quiet, monkey! More rope?"

"The bureau. Lower right." Dree was breathless.

There was rope aplenty. Lippa chose heavier silk. She was watched by shining eyes. Her 
command was joyously terse. "Turn your back."

Such sweet elbows! Such a tenderness of flesh! Philippa tossed away guilt. A lesson would 
do this darling girl no harm. She drew home band after band of silk. Pulling, pulling... 
thrusting the two captive arms closer and closer. When Dree's elbows met she pulled the 
lacings tight... and tighter still until their owner gasped. "Oh, darling, darling...!" There could be
no mistaking ecstasy.

"I'm sure that hurts, Dree. Too much?"

"Oh, Lippa, as if I'd complain!" The youthful slenderness was transformed. Young breasts 
thrust themselves at shielding fabric. The young stomach was concave beneath the stressed 
rib cage. Young shoulders were wracked back so as to lose their normal contours. But the 
whole effect was exquisite.

Philippa was breathless with creativity. She could play Pygmalion to Dree's Galatea! 
Endless vistas of delight beckoned. "You look delicious, Dree." She said almost in awe.

The bound girl sparkled and wriggled awkwardly back upon her penitence stool. "I feel 
delicious, darling." Her tone was ardent. "For a little while anyway." She fluttered her captive 
shoulders so as to emphasise impotence. "I think you've got me this time. No way I'll wiggle 
out of this." She giggled deprecatingly. "Mademoiselle tied me like this when I was bad. It's a 
punishment really. But don't you dare untie me!"

"Your poor bare arms!"

"Fiddle on my bare arms! Let me suffer."

"I'm going to." The words surprised the girl who had uttered them. Philippa was wallowing
in pure erotic delight. Before her on the stool there sat a gorgeous feminine youthfulness 
most stringently bound. It would remain securely fastened until such time as she chose for its 
release. She sighed in pure happiness.

Dree read her thoughts. "What's it like to own me, Lippa?"

"It's pure unadulterated happiness."

"You really do own me, y'know." The girl with bound arms twisted and wriggled to cause 
her to grimace at the self inflicted pain. "I think that was Auntie's intent. She liked you a lot. 
Isn't it a beautifully solemn thought that if you keep me tied some way, even the littlest way, 
for the next seven years I can't possibly escape. I belong to you." Philippa nodded. "You 
belong to me. It's overwhelming at first but I'll get used to it. I promise you I'll make you know
you belong. But, Dree, you were telling me about the man--?"

"Oh him!" Dree wriggled happily. "It was all a sort of anticlimax. I asked all the questions I 
could think of. You know, about all the ways he could push that thing into me. Then we talked 
about my breasts and my nipples, and his nipples too. He did quite a lot of things with my 
nipples, including sucking them and teasing them with his tongue. I didn't make a fuss about 
any of it. I knew Auntie wanted me to get the whole picture, even if it was disgusting."

"Were you disgusted, Dree?"

"Not really. He could excite my nipples but that was all. His genitals repelled me, they 
seemed so... so... surplus."

"But, with your hands tied behind your back, and naked, weren't you too frightened to 
be... objective?"

"Not after the first couple of minutes. I soon found myself wanting to find out all I could 
about him, about the marvelous Male. I looked and looked. I can still remember every part of 
him." The girl with bound elbows giggled. "At the end of it I was left with a feeling of: Why 
bother! He wasn't anywhere near as beautiful as a girl. He wasn't beautiful at all, sort of untidy.
And he didn't smell nice, not the way girls smell."

"You mean he hadn't washed?"

"Oh no, it wasn't that. He just smelt odd and strange and sort of foreign. I realised I'd been
given a tremendous experiment but I had no wish to do it over again. As far as I was 
concerned that was the end of men. I'd always seen them around the streets, of course, but 
only in the same way you see dogs and cats and bicycles."

Philippa sighed and wondered at her own naivete. This girl was 'special.' Auntie and 
mademoiselle had created something potently rare from some secret knowledge of their own.
It seemed impossible there could be other Drees around the world. And yet ! She 
remembered the book still waiting for her somewhere. But that could wait. For the moment 
she was concerned with a naked fifteen year old girl and a man. Hating the unknown male, 
she asked: "Was there some sort of grand finale?"

"Only him kissing me for quite a long time. He asked if I liked it, but when I said 'not much'
he didn't seem offended. He told me to watch him get dressed. He said if a girl can endure a 
man in his underwear she can stand anything." Dree laughed. "They do look silly, don't they."

"Absurd. But where was Auntie in all this?"

"She wasn't in it. Not then. After he'd dressed he told me I was a 'sweet kid,' and left. He 
locked me in. I sat and pondered over the whole thing for a couple of hours before Auntie 
came and released me. We talked and talked... But all I could tell her was what I've just told 
you. She seemed pleased. Are you pleased, darling?"

For Philippa it was not merely pleasure, it was rapture. Adrienne was perfect beyond 
dreams. In a glow of empathy she clasped her tied captive and slipped her from the stool. 
With breasts thrust against breasts they kissed and kissed. The strained bound arms imparted 
a warm eroticism under her questing hands.

"I'm so glad it's you, Lippa. So glad."

Soft hair and warm lips! Enveloping them both was a heady perfume Lippa dared not 
name, a drug distilled of female essence. Guiltily curious, she turned the compliant loveliness 
around. "Oh, Dree!" it was a gasp of consternation. "Your poor arms! The ropes are so deep in 
you. Keep still. I'll untie--"

"No! Lippa, you mustn't."

"But why not, dear? Your skin's all red and blue."

"That's the way of it, Lippa. Don't worry."

"But you must be hurting terribly."

"Well, sort of." The younger girl turned and kissed again. "Don't you see, darling, you're 
still learning. I'm something new to you. You'll have to get used to all sorts of lovely things. 
One of them is that sometimes I have to hurt. It's part of being Me."

"Alright, I will get used to it." Philippa promised, "but in my own way." She turned a 
laughing girl around once more. "Remember, I own you. Now, keep still."

Dree said no word. She radiated obedience. When the ropes were peeled from her skin 
they left behind a perfect imprint in the angry weals. Unsuccessfully, Philippa Coyle fought the
conviction they were the loveliest jewelry a girl could ever wear.

Philippa Coyle wryly realised she was at grips with enchantment. There were things she 
should do. But to tear herself away from Adrienne took an act of will she was loath to make. 
She was, however, determined to enlarge initiative. It was vital. She might be at a loss now, 
but this must pass, and soon! She wished, moreover, to savour each discovery. To explore her 
captive at her leisure, to possess the palpitating flesh in her own time and in her own way. 
Dree's anxiety to impart the methods of Mademoiselle Lafleur arose only from love and a 
desire to return to a condition inherent in her psyche. She placed Dree back upon her stool, 
leaving the passive hands tied palm to palm but with the additional safeguard of a rope 
binding them down to the stool. The rope was long enough, so she tied an ankle too. Miss 
mischief would stay put. The one free foot would be an amusing aggravation.

"I've things to do, Dree. Be a good little penitent."

The girl on the stool made kissing motions with her lips. "I love you, Lippa. Terribly...!"

The tasks were mechanical. The older girl did them with her mind elsewhere. The girl tied 
on the stood had become her world. But they could not possibly spend every moment 
together-or could they! Determinedly she worked. Ahead loomed her first hurdle--bedtime!

"You'll have to see me naked now, darling."

Philippa laughed. "And I'll have to untie your hands."

"You mean so I can undress? You really don't have to. I'm naked under my dress, and that 
comes off without tearing."

Trembling, Lippa's fingers sought the hidden fastenings. It was one more moment to be 
always remembered. But she had seen many naked girls. Was she being silly... ? But no, she 
was not silly! The dress fell to the rug, and a nude Dree stepped into view. "You're lovely!"

"See, I told you!"

The nymph with hands still tied behind her back danced and pirouetted her nakedness in 
blatant sensuality. She made certain no inch of herself was hidden to Philippa's entranced 
attention. Archly, she taunted: "With my hands tied you're going to have to bathe me. D'you 
mind?"

Eighteen and twenty-six! It was no great difference. Essentially they were two girls 
together. But as she dealt with her laughing captive Philippa's comparisons were of nymphs 
and naiads. They belonged somewhere on the slopes of Mount Olympus... or the island of 
Lesbos! Sappho would have known what to do with both of them.

It was glorious to soap Dree's breasts. They were still outthrust from the tug of the bound 
hands. As she frictioned the pert nipples their owner gasped and writhed in agonized ecstasy.

"Oh, ohhhhhhh! Oh, sorry, Lippa!" The young eyes were brilliant with longing. "No other 
hands--Oh, darling, your hands tear me to bits. They're gorgeous."

It was as a bow upon a sensitive violin. The slightest touch evoked response. Not just 
tremors and vibrations but the full twistings and squirmings of agony. Lippa came to see her 
washcloth as a whip excoriating female flesh to wincings and spasms beyond control. Panting 
in her own tumescence, she laved and frictioned the youthful breasts far beyond their need. 
She found herself fervidly glad of Dree's tied wrists. They kept their owner's struggles within 
bounds. When she lowered her attention to the mop of pubic hair, thrusting asunder young 
thighs to give herself scope, Dree froze in the tension of sensations too deep for violent 
motion. She uttered small sweet sounds of delight, tugging at her bonds as though to 
reassure herself of being safely bound.

"Bathe me always, darling?" Dree pleaded as she was dried. "Please say you will?"

"I won't promise. I refuse to spoil you."

"I'd bathe you too, y'know. All you have to do is handcuff me in front. I'd give you the 
most wonderful bath."

"Mmmmm, maybe. But not the handcuffs. I'd want your hands free for such a privilege."

"My hands mustn't be free, Lippa. Not ever. Remember that. I can do all sorts of wonderful
things in handcuffs." Philippa surveyed the room. It was definitely Dree's. Everything spoke of 
her. The single bed was expensively luxurious. From a corner of the headboard a handcuff 
dangled on a longish chain. On the other side was an exquisitely fashioned steel collar, its 
links trailing to a padlock. She found both these things strangely beautiful, and once more 
wondered about guilt. "Do you really sleep naked and with your hands tied the way they are?"
She asked doubtfully.

"Darling, don't start being grandmotherly."

"I don't believe I could sleep like that."

"Well, I can. But, Lippa dear, do anything you like with me tonight. I won't mind."

"I'm going to be selfish and lock that handcuff on one of your wrists. That's all. Then I 
won't be worrying."

"You're so sweet, Lippa." The youngster glowed. "I'll love that cuff because you locked it 
on. Every time I wake I'll kiss it."

Philippa was enjoying herself. When a naked Dree slipped between the covers and 
proffered a willing wrist she fitted the shining cuff and clicked it tenderly snug. She would 
never again underrate this moppet twinkling up at her from the pillow. "Can you stand it a 
notch tighter?" She asked kindly.

Dree tested her shackle. "Oh sure." She agreed with bravado. "The key's hanging on that 
string. If you turn it upside down and push into that tiny hole it locks the cuff from tightening 
further. Mademoiselle never bothered. But just so you don't worry."

The cuff was now most definitely tight upon the captive wrist. In the act of locking it thus 
Philippa again felt the heat flare between her thighs. "You won't slip that." She said with 
assurance. She held up the loop of string on which hung two keys. "And I'll keep these, both 
of them."

Dree was playing with the cuff and chain as though she had never worn it before. For a 
moment she was utterly absorbed with her tether, a fascination Philippa shared. Like a child 
put to bed by an elder, she asked: "Are you going to stay up for hours and hours?"

"Maybe one. There's a letter and a phone call... "

"Take your clothes off, darling, and get in with me."

"And lock that collar on myself?" Lippa bantered.

"Put that on me too if you're nervous."

Temptation was like a demanding clutch upon her sex. The older girl quenched it firmly. It 
was too soon. Whatever might eventuate between herself and her captive should not be 
casual. To crawl naked into that single bed now would be like a romp in the hay. Dree was 
precious. She must be kept precious. And she herself must hold to her authority. This delicious
morsel must never be allowed to get the bit too firmly in her teeth. After they had kissed 
beyond prudence a heavily breathing young woman hurried from the room. From the bed a 
chain clinked musically.

The letter was hard to start. Philippa Coyle's mind and libido overwhelmed the mundane. 
Visions of a naked Dree intruded to a degree in which it was hard not to return to the 
bedroom and the chained girl. Dazedly she reviewed the day but, more importantly, the days 
ahead-and the years! This cornucopia of delights was leaving her breathless. It was well past 
the hour when she went upstairs.

The shock of the slenderness beneath the covers of her bed was instant but momentary. 
Dree's voice, quivering with laughter, was accusing. "You said an hour but you've been ages 
and ages."

"You little vixen! I left you chained to your bed."

"Yes, darling, but you wouldn't get in with me so I had to come and get in yours."

Philippa felt miffed. Her tone was acid. "How many keys are there to that handcuff?" She 
demanded ominously.

"I had an extra one hidden where I could get at it." The escapee informed insouciantly. "I 
sort of expected you'd be shy on our first night."

"I'm not shy! I simply want--"

"Yes, I know. You have an image. Take your clothes off and pop in with me."

"You cheated!"

"Yes. I've been really bad. You can punish me another time but please not now. I'm 
surrendering the extra key. Here, it's on your pillow."

"And what if I'd put the collar on you?"

The girl in the bed was a picture of sweet contrition. "I had one of those hidden too. I 
forgot to bring it. I'll give it to you tomorrow. Please, darling, don't be too mad at me. I do 
want you so."

Philippa felt she should be angry. It was not easy. "Suppose I put you back in your own 
bed and hogtie you there for the night?"

The young voice was heartbreakingly pathetic. "Please don't."

"Or give you a thrashing."

"Yes, darling, but not now."

"I suppose you're completely free?"

"I'm afraid so. But I did bring some handcuffs just in case you-?"

"What's the use! You'll have keys hidden all over--"

"No I haven't, and I won't Not after tonight. But tonight-!"

In desperation and in a searing desire she could not counter, Philippa cast aside her 
clothes, turned out the light, and welded herself to that other nudity ardently waiting. It was 
sweet beyond her wildest dreams. The two girls forgot all else and made love with a violent 
passion again and again until exhaustion took them into sleep. For both it was a homecoming.
Surfeit was a drug that kept Philippa in her world of dreams until the sun was high.

She awoke to discover herself alone.

Her wrists were handcuffed tight behind her back.





CHAPTER TWO - PRISON


"I am incorrigible." Said Dree demurely.

"Yes."

"And I cheat."

"Yes."

"And I deserve a really awful, awful punishment."

"Yes."

Philippa Coyle was far from satisfied with her three monosyllabic affirmatives. She could 
have said more. But a girl with her hands cuffed behind her back needs to be careful. Dree was
fully dressed, it seemed in some way ominous.

"But you will forgive me, darling?"

"I might have done if you hadn't kept me in bed all this time with a beastly chain locked 
round my ankle."

"You really should, y'know."

"I don't see why. Especially since I need to go to the bathroom."

"It's always worse when you know you can't, darling. Don't fret."

"What am I supposed to do?"

The two girls surveyed each other from vantage points widely separate. Lips might tremble
with laughter but features were kept politely composed while eyes assessed. The atmosphere 
was heavy with words unsaid.

"I'm making us the loveliest breakfast, darling. But first I'll give you a bath."

'Til give myself a bath, thank you."

"But, darling, how can you!"

There, it was in the open. The thing Lippa had feared to voice. Shamingly conscious of lost 
initiative she said, wanly: "I could if I wasn't handcuffed."

"Do they bother you, darling?"

She was being played with. Philippa ironed chagrin from her features and choked back 
anger. She too would play this game of nonchalance. Carelessly she countered with: "Only 
when I try and do something useful."

"But, Lippa darling, I'll do everything for you."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing everything for myself."

"Darling, are you really?"

Overtaxed emotions betray us. A tear hovered and fell from Lippa's eye. Furiously she 
shook her head in denial. In a voice she did not recognize she pleaded: "Dree, please take 
these things off my wrists?"

"Things...?"

"Yes. Please unlock the handcuffs on my wrists, and the padlock that chains my ankle to 
the bed."

"You mean someone's chained you to the bed! Darling, you really are in a fix."

A second tear of feminine frustration further weakened Philippa's authority. The bite of 
handcuffs and chain warned her of how little she knew of Adrienne Laidlaw. Was this just a 
tease they would laugh about later! But if it was not... ? She was naked and helpless and at a 
loss for the right thing to say. Lamely, she ventured: "Dree dear, this isn't right. What is it you 
want?"

"I'll give you a bath first thing, Lippa. Then breakfast."

"I can't eat breakfast like this."

"Yes you can. I'll feed you."

"You mean you won't take these handcuffs off me?"

"That's right, darling. You look so lovely."

"You're going to make me a prisoner?"

"Well, sort of-In a nice way."

Dree was Dree. Their roles had changed but she had not. She was still the delectable 
morsel, radiantly happy. Philippa sat awkwardly and watched the unlocking of her ankle chain.
She was still helpless. Handcuffs were a new experience. She was shocked by the finality of 
their being behind her back. She was naked and without defense. When the younger girl 
possessed a handful of her hair and said: "Come along, darling." She did not resist.

"Your body is just as beautiful as mine--in your own way, darling." Dree assessed with an 
air of possession. "You look so gorgeous standing there in the water, all boiling angry and 
covered with soap."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

Sarcasm might be a mistake but the older girl could not forbear. Her emotions were 
multiplying in a conflict she was unable to control. Dree was far too much heart's desire to 
hate. The anger was against herself for allowing this to happen, and for the truant waves of 
pure joy engendered by the youngster's hands as they soaped and laved and lingered lovingly
where they could evoke gasps and drive her to distraction with waves of desire. Her nipples 
and her sex were both betraying her. When she met Dree's laughing eyes she knew she had 
no secrets.

"This is yummy, yummy, darling. Mademoiselle used to let me bathe her, and she always 
had to bathe me because I was tied." Dree giggled, "Just like you, you poor dear. But her 
figure wasn't as eatable as yours, even though it was awful nice and had a real mat of black 
curls on her pussy."

"How old was mademoiselle?"

"Same as you. When she came I was twelve and she was twenty. She seemed terribly 
ancient and I was frightfully in awe of her. Especially after she'd whipped me a couple of times.
I say, darling, isn't it nice the way we're talking naturally again!"

Lippa was not sure about the nice. Instinctively, she could not refrain from twisting her 
wrists against the circlets of steel by which she was robbed of her hands. She was well aware 
that Dree was enjoying this hopeless seeking of escape. With a sudden gasp from the probing
of a too wise finger, she complained petulantly: "If you can't control those hands of yours, 
Dree, I suppose you know you'll make me have an orgasm right here in the tub?"

"Yes, darling, isn't it lovely!"

For a couple of minutes the handcuffed girl abandoned sulks to absorb a series of 
explosions and earthquakes within her sex, aided and abetted by vibrant fingers and febrile 
lips. When she returned from a Dree inhabited paradise to the steamy utility of the bathroom 
she felt exhausted and subdued. She said nothing, even her hands had given up their battle 
with the chrome.

"Nice, Lippa?"

"Too nice."

Dree towelled busily. "I always made Mademoiselle pop in the tub. She always tried not to,
and then got angry when she did. I'm an absolute menace. I should never be given my 
freedom."

"I didn't give it to you. You took it. You were sneaky and took a mean advantage."

"I know, darling. I shudder to think of my punishments."

"Dree, stop mocking me. I can't punish you. I can't do anything. If somebody gets 
punished it's more likely to be me.

The younger girl affected a judicial air. "Well, perhaps you're right. I always got punished 
for sarcasm or complaining. I suppose you should too. I'll show you the whip, darling, but 
after breakfast, not now."

"Stop talking about such horrible things. I don't want to hear."

"What... breakfast or the whip?"

"The whip, of course! It's unkind and--and--"

"And there's a simply marvelous cane, Lippa. It's lean and ever so flexible. It's best for 
bottoms."

Philippa Coyle sniffed disdainfully but allowed herself to be led to the kitchen. She 
debated the wisdom of sudden flight and a reliance on her flailing feet for protection. But 
nakedness and the handcuffs robbed her of confidence. It would be too humiliating to be 
forcibly restrained and punished by this darling bundle of sensuality. Passivity was best. Surely 
this enforced penance would soon end!

"You kneel beside my chair, Lippa darling. That way I can feed you easily."

"I'll do no such thing! Dree, this has gone far enough." The smile on the young features 
was angelic as their owner produced the cruel length of cane from a cupboard. She flexed it 
enjoyably. "You won't like this a bit, Lippa. It hurts terribly."

Lippa knelt.

The tears, now, were of mortification and self pity. They were copious. The handcuffs 
denied her need to deal with them and the frustration increased their flow. They fell as they 
pleased. Philippa Coyle was bitterly ashamed. Dree was busy, and spared them only an 
indulgent glance. "Crying does help so, Lippa. Don't stop."

Being fed was worse still. The first 'open up, darling,' almost spurred revolt. But the 
kneeling girl swallowed her pride and obediently accepted what was offered. Her hands 
worked in furious protest against their bond. Painful as it might be, it was the only expression 
of her feelings she dared make.

"You're terribly cross with me, Lippa. I can tell."

Why shouldn't she be cross! She was human and a girl, and was being treated shamefully. 
It was vexatious beyond words to be so uncertain of this girl who held her captive. This period 
of teasing and humiliation might be momentary mischief. But suppose it was not! Suppose it 
lasted seven years! The nature of their circumstances made such a captivity eminently practical
should Adrienne Laidlaw so decide. At eighteen she was still in some ways a child. But in 
others was infinitely wise. Without optimism, she was an emphatic as she dared be.

"I'm hurt and disappointed."

"A lovely bath and a lovely breakfast! Oh, Lippa!"

"And lovely handcuffs!"

"They suit you. Next time you're shopping you should buy a pair for always."

Philippa voiced what she had feared to ask. "Will I ever go shopping again, Dree?"

"Ooops, I forgot!" Dree affected solicitude. "I suppose it's possible you may not. Will you 
miss it terribly?"

"Yes."

"You sound so bitter, darling. But you'll soon get used to being the way you are. If only 
you were like me! If you were the way I am we could have such wonderful times out and 
around. But I suppose when we came home you wouldn't let me tie you up again?"

The kneeling girl kept a prudent silence.

"Darling, if it's just that you hate being tied I'd be quite willing to keep you in handcuffs 
and some lovely chains we've got?"

"Dree, P-L-E-A-S-E-!"

"You're so sweet when you're upset."

"I'm more than upset. I'm frightened at what you're doing with me."

Dree offered a fork with toast and bacon. The captive lips accepted it without gratitude. 
The younger girl's voice was suddenly adult: "Philippa, if I ask you questions will you give me 
honest answers?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"In the tub just now: you were erotically excited, even before I made you climax?"

"Yes."

"You loved what we did in bed last night?"

"Yes."

"Yesterday, whenever you tied me you became sexually aroused?"

"... Yes."

"Don't sound so guilty. I was the same."

"You're stripping me worse than naked, Dree."

"Fiddlesticks! A long time ago Auntie told you about me, and about herself and about 
mademoiselle?"

"Yes."

"And she asked if your fantasies were the same as hers, and you told her they were?"

"Yes."

"No need to squirm, Lippa. Gosh, you'd think I had you on the Rack and was using a hot 
iron."

"It's not a bad simile."

"You mean these admissions hurt that much!"

Philippa squirmed unhappily. "No, they don't. But I should be asking them, not you! You 
should be kneeling here, not me!"

"My, my! Our feelings are hurt! Don't you love me any more?"

"I love you altogether too much. I'm just a raging seething mass of desire for you--and it's 
not just carnal."

"Darling... ! That won't get you free, of course. But I'm so glad you said it, so terribly glad. I 
adore you. I'd get beside you on the floor... but then we'd never finish breakfast "

"What are you going to do to me, Dree? I have to know?"

"No you don't. You just think you do. You and I don't need a schedule. We can live by the 
hour or the day."

"More likely by your caprice."

"What's wrong with that! Oh, by the way, today we'll spend in training-yours, of course."

Lippa shrugged. She had never felt so helpless and hopeless and at a loss. All because of a 
slip of a laughing girl. A pair of handcuffs had changed her life. She writhed against them 
impotently, and pleaded: "Don't use a beastly whip or... things... on me. Please!"

"Darling, you can't dictate, y'know."

"Yes, I know. Dree, be a little kind. I've never been in a spot like this before. It's all so new 
and sort of-impossible."

"Haven't I been kind?"

"Yes, you have. I'm sorry! Except for making me kneel like this. It shames me terribly."

"But if it was me kneeling there and the handcuffs were on my wrists it would be O.K.?"

"If I say yes to that it will sound awful. But I do say yes--Yes, yes, yes...!"

"You're absolutely gorgeous." Said Dree dreamily.

Philippa Coyle took it for granted she would be kept off balance. She was off balance now.
She was still handcuffed, but a chain, and a metal collar round her neck attached her to a 
stone wall in what could be nothing else but a prison cell. There was a cot but her chain was 
too short. It tethered her to exactly where she stood. It would not even allow her to sit on the 
floor. She stood, within its short tolerance, naked and seething and bored. There was no view. 
There was nothing except some bars, and she could not reach them to peer through as 
prisoners were supposed to do.

"I'll just sort of park you here, darling, while I do the dishes." Dree's fingers had been 
tender as they locked the collar on the slender throat of her captive. They had kissed until 
passion was kindled, then the girl had gone away and locked the barred door. It seemed to 
the chained girl the slam of iron and the heavy click of the lock had been ostentatious.

For the imprisoned girl time had ceased. She was as deprived of it as she was of liberty. Its 
passage would be slow. This was certain. Robbed of any means of amusing herself, unable to 
rest, her view a complete sterility, Lippa realised she would have to fight both boredom and 
panic. Rather than stand tiringly she thrust her bare shoulders against the cold stone. The 
contact was hatefully cold. But as her flesh warmed the masonry she could lean, tossing her 
head to thrust aside the links of her tether. It was the most comfort she could manage. She 
longed to finger her collar. Wearing it was an even stranger sensation than the metal on her 
wrists.

Time passed, far more time than was needed to wash dishes. Evidently she was to 
experience the dolor of solitary confinement. She fought its vacuum by experimenting with 
her tether. But what did it matter whether she could walk an extra foot this way or that! She 
judged the chain confining her neck to the wall as about two feet long. It was a tantalising 
imposition. No doubt it was meant to be. She wept in exasperation. Why must the radiant 
Dree treat her thus! But, guiltily, she realised the girl herself had probably stood like this many 
times. It was a sobering thought.

"More tears, darling! I'm so unkind. Poor Lippa!"

Dree transformed the little cell into a place of light and warmth. She was carrying rope and
a clock. She placed both on the cot, and gave her full attention to kissing away the salt drops 
on her captive's cheeks. There was a whispered murmuring of endearments.

"I wish I could hold you." Philippa Coyle was trembling with relief.

"I can hold enough for both." Dree proved her statement, then sent an inquisitive hand to 
search in pubic hair. Did you think I'd never come?"

Lippa had comprehended the items on the cot. "Is that clock right?" She asked 
incredulously.

Dree giggled. "I brought it so you wouldn't have any doubts."

"You mean I've been chained here only fifty minutes?"

"Did it seem like fifty hours, darling?"

Philippa felt foolish. Dree had banished tears and fears so utterly they became shameful. 
"Or fifty days... She shook her head so the links of her tether chattered musically. "I can't 
believe...!"

"Neither could I, not the first time. Mademoiselle saw how frightened I was, and sort of 
kept this one in reserve. It's not half as bad if there's a longer chain from your collar so's you 
can use the cot."

The older girl wanted none of the cell at all. It made her feel criminal and soiled. She was 
suddenly overwhelmed by a need to know her fate. She cast hesitancy to the winds: "Dree 
dear, how long are you going to keep me like this?"

"You mean chained here in the cell?"

"You know that's not what I mean. You've made me your prisoner. How long is my 
sentence?"

"What a lovely way of putting it!" Dree returned to kisses and a wicked searching of 
fingers. "You know I'm not going to tell you."

"Is it for--always?"

The eighteen year old nymphet sobered. "Would that be so bad, Lippa?"

Philippa Coyle hung her head, evading eyes. She was emotionally stunned by her inability 
to give a quick and honest answer. She wanted desperately to be free. But not at the cost of 
hurting the girl who was studying her with unfathomable gaze. She shifted uncomfortably 
under the quiet regard. "I would not choose it." She admitted forlornly. "But if it was 
something you wanted--I mean, if it meant a lot to you--"

"You know it means a lot to me."

Their declarations hung potent in the stillness of the cell. The naked girl knew her question
still unanswered. But the metal circlet had become doubly heavy as though welded forever on 
her neck. Prudence warned against pursuing the subject of freedom. If it was something she 
had permanently lost there was at least the consolation of Dree. To possess Dree, or to be 
possessed by Dree were two hypotheses that, strangely, seemed to have merged within her 
mind. Docilely, she asked: "Dree, this collar holds me safe. Could you unlock my handcuffs? I'm
so tired of them?"

"Prefer some rope, darling?"

"Is that why you brought that? To tie me?"

"Well, it wasn't for the Indian Rope Trick." Dree chuckled. "If I take the handcuffs from you 
will you promise not to be difficult?"

Philippa Coyle squirmed. Such a promise diminished she who gave it. She kept silence.

"Are you thinking of how, once they're off, you can grab me?" Dree's question was brightly
helpful.

"I--I suppose so."

"Naughty, naughty!"

"Well, you can't blame me, can you!"

"Of course not, darling--But that reminds me... "

The chained girl waited in resignation. The reappearance of her captor and the whip of 
yellow cane confirmed her fear. "You don't have to use that thing on me." She said 
defensively.

Dree tossed aside her frock and became instantly naked. "If we're going to have a tussle I 
may as well be dressed for it." She said brightly. "That dress would give you something to 
grab."

"Gosh, you're beautiful, Dree!"

"Gee, thanks!" Dree was suddenly a little girl with candy. "I'm going to unlock your 
handcuffs. The important thing for you to remember is that the key to your collar is with my 
dress on the cot. When your hands are free you can fight or you can obey. I think a fight 
would be fun. But if you lose it you get your bottom caned. Darling, you're almost certain to 
lose it, y'know. A girl shouldn't go into battle with her neck chained to a wall."

Philippa Coyle longed to stamp her feet, to scream or throw things at the wall. Frustration 
derided her with a word--Foxed! She was foxed. Ignominy hovered, a delicious feminine 
ignominy to bring tears to her eyes and heat to Dree's loins. Quite probably, and 
outrageously, it would inflame her too! It wasn't fair! It just was not fair! With a choked sob 
she turned to face the wall and proffered her hands.

"Do you want to wave your arms a bit, Lippa? It feels nice after they've been behind your 
back a long time?"

"They may as well get used to it." Said Lippa, miffed. "You seem to want them there full 
time. Get busy with your rope."

"If you say so." The girl was unperturbed. "I'm going to love tying you. My pussy's 
positively engorged. I bet yours is too."

"Don't be ridiculous."

A shrewd young hand slipped between Lippa's thighs and cupped a plump sex. Its owner 
laughed delightedly. "My hands come away all wet, darling. You really are a bit of a humbug."

The young woman who had lost both authority and freedom surrendered herself to 
sensation. Why fight a battle she could not win! If enslavement offered compensations she 
might as well enjoy them. She was quivering like a reed in the wind beneath the touch of 
Dree's fingers. Her inmost flame scorched fiercely as the silken rope took possession of her 
chafed wrists. When the shrewd bands were drawn tight by the cinching tie between she could
not restrain a gasp of rapture. If the nymphet heard it and was quietly laughing: let her laugh!

The elbows were a shock. No word was said as the silk captured the soft flesh above the 
quivering forearms. Lippa ruefully bit off protest. She had tied her darling thus. Why should 
she complain! She stood, erect and breathless, as rope after rope was passed around her 
arms, lacing them tighter and tighter as the binding progressed. When her arms were crushed 
together from wrist to elbow and the final knot was being tied, she looked down in 
astonishment at the taut jutting of her breasts and the concavity of her stomach... To have her 
loveliness thus enhanced was almost worth the pain.

"Mmmmmm, gorgeous! Turn round, darling."

How absurd to blush at her breast's arrogance before a girl! But blush she did. Philippa 
longed for covering but knew it would be denied. She tried, unsuccessfully, to appear 
insouciant as her nipples were pinched and played with.

"Lippa, if these two protruded any more they'd push me right out of the cell." Dree 
laughed delightedly. "I'll keep 'em sticking out always." She imparted a final pinch. "Ready for 
the collar?"

The hinged metal by which her throat had been prisoned clattered back against the stone 
and hung there open and waiting. Lippa shuddered and stepped away. She had had enough 
of that wall. "Is there any particular way you want me to behave?" She inquired diffidently.

"If you ask me another question like that I'll climax on the spot." Dree affirmed gaily. "Yes, 
there is something you can do. Bend over."

"What!"

"Yes, you heard me right. Bend over and stick out your bottom. I'm going to hit it one 
wicked cut with the cane."

"But, Dree, I've obeyed--!"

"Sure you have. So you don't get six, or ten, or twenty. You get only one. I want you to 
know how terribly it hurts. It may save you a lot worse another time."

"Dree, don't make me obedient under the threat of a whip. I'll obey you. We love each 
other."

"Bend over, darling."

It was one more unreality and one more blush. It seemed that, without volition, her body 
was obeying Dree's command. Philippa's shoulders screamed protest as she bent forward and 
surveyed her toes.

"Just sort of keep pliant, darling. I'll mold you into position."

The young hands were devastating, both in their vibrant contact and their intent. Philippa 
had never been caned at school. That she be caned now on her bare bottom at the age of 
twenty-six was outrageously impossible. She felt like a small child as her knees were 
straightened, her waist thrust down, and her inclination from her hips accentuated. The result 
was a cruel protrusion of her bottom. She felt it as a ripe melon about to split asunder from its
own ripeness.

When the air snickered and the pain came, the punished girl uttered one shocked cry and 
fell to her knees. Her arms were lost to her. She could touch nothing. The cheeks of her 
bottom flamed to incandescence, the sickening pain spreading and spreading to possess 
every crevice of her being. She knelt and sobbed in silent horror of an agony beyond anything
she had anticipated.

With her usual wisdom, the girl with the cane sat quietly on the cot and allowed her 
prisoner to absorb the awfulness of the cane in her own way. It was not until the shaking and 
the spasms had passed and Lippa had stumbled to her feet that she clasped the bound nudity
in her arms and kissed and kissed again. When that too had passed her voice became brisk. 
"Hate me?"

"No."

"Will that help you in doing... what you must?"

"Yes--Oh, yes!" The affirmatives were fervid.

"Glad I did it to you?"

"... Yes."

"Good. Now we'll go to the study. I'll need your help with some papers."

"Aren't you afraid I'll run, or kick, or something...?"

"Go ahead, darling. Feel free--" Philippa Coyle went to the study.

Her arms punished her with every breath.

They spent a busy day with the Estate. Two naked young women concerned with letters 
and files and statements. Philippa could not use her hands but she could use her mind. Dree 
did the rest. Half way through the ropes round the captive's elbows were replaced by 
handcuffs. It was the only concession. They fell into the easy comradeship of those who share 
a task. When night came the bound girl was led upstairs.

"Did you notice this, darling?"

Philippa gave her full attention to the heavy metal ring nestling in the rug beside her own 
four poster bed. Premonition was instant.

"Kneel beside it, Lippa."

She submitted with docility when her neck was ringed and the end of the chain padlocked.
It was not long enough to let her stand. She knelt and waited.

"The slave sleeps beside her Mistress's bed, darling."

"That's my bed."

"It was. Once it was Auntie's. She used to have me sleep as you are now about once a 
week. She insisted it built character."

"Dree, I can't possibly sleep with my arms fastened like this."

"Yes you can. But I will give them a rest."

It felt so good to have her hands back. Philippa said a sincere 'thank you' and instantly 
explored the metal on her neck. It felt very permanent. The weight of the chain, whose links 
were her tether, was unkind. She shrugged it into what comfort she could and massaged her 
wrists.

"You get a blanket later."

"Thank you."

"I found it very annoying when I was chained by only my neck. You're all free but you can't 
go anywhere."

"Yes. Dree darling, wouldn't you like me in bed with you?"

"Of course I would, idiot. But abstinence builds character. Yours, that is. Mine's already 
built. You are now going to service your owner. If you don't give me a really marvelous 'come' 
you'll be punished."

She was so helpless and so shamingly controlled. When the juncture of a pair of scented 
thighs was thrust against her face there was no escaping them. She could grovel. It was all her 
chain would permit her to do. She could evade nothing. In a guilty honesty she knew she had 
no true wish to escape this feminine duty of her slavery. Abandoning sulkiness she buried her 
face in pungent pubic hair. Her lips and tongue were avid. Her hands reached for the twin 
curvatures and dragged them close.

Long, long afterwards the woman slave asked hopefully: "Was it good for you, Dree?"

"Darling, you were incredible. Simply gorgeous."

"Don't I get anything?"

"Of course not, dear. That's the abstinence part. In a little while I'll fix your hands so you 
can't play with yourself. That used to drive me wild. Auntie used to whip me to keep me 
quiet."

"I suppose that's a hint?"

"Sort of, darling. Oh, and if you make a fuss or a lot of noise in the night you get tied tight 
to a bedpost so you can't move."

"Standing up! Dree, did Auntie do that to you?"

"Not often. I tried hard not to wake her." Dree giggled. "I discovered how important it is to
pee before the last lock clicks. Don't let me forget to take you to the bathroom-Oh, don't get 
your hopes up. You'll be handcuffed."

"Oh, I'm sure I will. I'm dangerous." Philippa sniffed resignedly. "But how on Earth could 
either you or Auntie sleep with you tied to one of the posts of her bed? If I had you tied like 
that I'd be conscious of you every moment." Dree laughed. "Sometimes it did end up with her 
untying me and taking me to bed. But mostly I stood against my post and dozed. The ropes 
held me up. Like I said, it all built character. Darling... If you'd prefer the post to the ring--?"

"Don't be such a tease. Either way I'm not going to have a very good night. Remember, it's
my first... like this." Philippa Coyle was wrong. With wrists crossed and bound behind her back 
she slept like a log.





CHAPTER THREE - SERVITUDE


"It's called a single glove." Dree explained helpfully. "It's rather dressy and quite deadly."

Naked before the big mirror, Philippa Coyle watched herself being rendered helpless. Her 
hands were already snugly gloved in sensuous leather. The luxurious harness incorporated a 
soft strap, now firmly buckled round her wrists. She was past any point of argument and had 
only to watch while her youthful captor pulled and tugged at laces. Already she felt an 
inexorable encasement.

"Sort of like an old fashioned corset." Dree panted. "Nice thing is though, it doesn't hinder 
the circulation, even though you do get a bit numb."

"I take it you've worn this horrible thing?"

"Of course I have. And don't be so negative. When I've finished with these laces you'll love 
yourself."

"Couldn't I just be handcuffed?"

"You see, darling, it's all comparative. Yesterday you were complaining about handcuffs."

It was true. Humiliation was now her daily bread. She was never freed or given a chance to 
assert herself. Philippa sighed but watched her straining shoulders and breasts with an 
increasing approval. At least this desirable effect was being achieved without the agony of 
roped elbows.

"There! Now straps over your shoulders, just in case." The straps exerted an upward pull on
the glove. Never, never could she free herself of it. Once more she thought of the word, foxed.
"Must I always be naked, Dree?" She asked wanly. "That mirror's made me realise how 
shockingly naked I am."

"It's the pubic hair, darling, that makes the rest of us seem so frightfully bare. Would you 
like me to shave yours off? Mademoiselle always shaved her pussy. I liked the effect." Dree 
giggled. "And I didn't get so many hairs in my mouth."

"No. Leave mine alone. I don't want to be naked there too."

"Don't be alarmed. Some things are sacred. Er, did I tell you, Lippa, there's a little more to 
this ensemble than just the glove?"

Lippa tensed. She scented mischief. "Please, Dree, don't be too unkind." She pleaded 
wistfully.

It was a leather belt, two inches wide. When it was buckled round her waist Lippa said a 
most sincere 'Ouch!' She felt as constricted round her middle as an ant. But the red and black 
garter belt was a pleasant surprise. So were the nylons.

"Are we making porno' pictures?" She asked tartly.

Dree held the next item up for inspection. It was a shortish strap, narrowing down to 
become circular at its centre. There was an attachment at each end. "Does it ring a bell, 
darling?"

"Yes it does! Dree... please!"

It attached neatly to her belt at the front. Nimble fingers drew it down and between 
unwelcoming thighs. There was a click at the rear and a slow steady pull... !

"Dree, stoppit'! Don't do that! That round part is going right inside me... Ouch!"

The girl paid no heed, but knelt and carefully separated the lips of her captive's vulva to 
ensure safe and complete entry for the narrow rounded section within. It's so ingenious, 
darling. The other end's attached to the glove.

Here... I'll tighten some more and you'll get the idea."

It was wicked! Lippa's gloved arms were tautly held down. To struggle with them meant a 
see-saw of the strap between her thighs. To ease the tension she was almost doing a 
backwards bend. Her breasts were pointing like twin artillery. She was flushed with shame at 
this tight entry within her sex. Unhappily, she gasped: "O.K., you've shown me how beastly it is.
This strap will make me obedient anytime. But now... Oh, Dree darling, get it out of me. Take it 
away!"

"I've worn it myself, y'know, Lippa. A girl does learn to cope."

"I won't! Not ever! It's awful!"

"Maybe because you're a bit older, and your cunt--"

"Dree!" Philippa's reprimand was genuine shock. "Don't ever use that hateful word."

"Yes, I know. It's on the forbidden list. But do you know a better--?"

"Yes, and so do you!"

"Not really, darling. Pussy is for kids. A girl can have a pussy up to fifteen or sixteen, after 
that she's got a cunt."

Philippa sniffed and twisted unhappily within her harness. "There's plenty of others--"

"Oh sure! All clinical. Girls shouldn't ever use words about themselves like 'vagina' or 
'vulva' or pudendum. They're horrid."

The tightly laced girl wryly admitted the same thoughts within her own mind over the 
years. But she had conformed and banned the four letter explicit from her vocabulary. 
Compared to Dree's innocent honesty she felt stuffy. "Well, whatever you want to call it." She 
said dismally. "I'd be grateful if you'd get this frightful strap out of it."

"But, darling, it's only just getting nicely acquainted with you!"

"Dree, It's awful! My poor--cunt!" Lippa sniffed. "See, you've got me using that--word."

"But you are getting used to it, aren't you! It's so wonderful for keeping a girl--well, sort 
of... aware of what she really is while she's out and around town."

Philippa Coyle stood tense and unbelieving. Surely this mischievous elfin creature had not 
meant--?"

"I thought some shopping would be nice for you, darling. Much better than being tied to a
post?"

"Dree, stop kidding. I know you're just trying to get me bothered."

"No really, Lippa!" The young voice was emphatic. "You and I are going to have the most 
wonderful day--"

"It's not possible--with me strapped in this harness!" Dree giggled. "That's your going out 
dress."

"I can't even walk!"

"You haven't tried."

Angrily, the captive took a step, then another. Tentatively and painfully she walked around 
the room. Her feet were her only freedom. The rest of her was rigidly restrained. "It's too 
impossible!" She retorted. "This thing inside me--!"

"Nothing's that far inside you, darling. Now, be honest. Your last step hurt less than the 
first, didn't it?"

It was an irritating truth. Philippa Coyle commenced another indignant circle of cautious 
steps. If Dree truly intended to take her from the captivity of the house the results would be 
on her own young head. Release would be available on every hand. A little pain between her 
own legs was a small price to pay for such a chance. Why quibble! "Well, I suppose 
everything's working itself into--place." She admitted sulkily. "But, strapped like this, I'll be as 
stiff and erect as a lamp post. I can't possibly bend forward--"

"You look scrumptious. And I don't know why you'd need to bend down. I'm not going to 
cane your bottom in the middle of Regent's street."

The older girl flushed at the vision evoked. This moppet was unpredictable. "Well anyway, 
you'll have to take away this horrible thing on my arms if I'm to get into a dress."

"No dress, darling. Naked as you are. But under a cute little cape that's only just long 
enough-"

"No!" It was a cry of agony. "No! No! No!"

"But yes, dear Lippa!" Dree's voice was bubbling laughter. "Think of it: Your dear little 
pussy and all that lovely pubic hair just barely hidden--No pun intended."

"Someone's bound to see--something! Dree, don't be outrageous. At least let me wear 
panties?"

"No panties! Darling, haven't you caught sight of the fiendish killer diller in your awful 
plight?"

Realisation dawned. Hope died. Philippa wanted freedom. But not badly enough to reveal 
herself as she was to some kindly disposed stranger. Nudity was bad enough. But the garter 
belt... ! Her arms laced into the single glove... ! The utterly shameful strap sundering her 
crotch... ! What could she say! How explain! A sudden vision of a constable and his notebook...
! It was too utterly bizarre and intolerable. She shook her head angrily against tears of 
disappointment. She was going to be far more controlled than by a visible tether from a collar
on her neck.

The young voice was annoyingly wise. Dree had read her thoughts. "Frustrating, isn't it! I 
know. But, of course, I never wanted to have a kindly stranger rescue me. I found the whole 
thing erotically yummy. The lovely strap between my legs gave me all sorts of orgasms. When 
I knew I was going to explode we'd pretend to look in a shop window or something while I 
spasmed and moaned. Darling, do try and see the bright side. We're both going to be so 
amused."

"I'll be frightened to death... and hurting... and terribly ashamed. Please, Dree, don't make 
me."

"Of course, I could tie you to a post so you couldn't move, everything ever so tight. Then 
leave you there 'till tomorrow morning... " Dree mused thoughtfully.

Philippa Coyle snorted in disgust, and began another practice walk.

"Auntie and I used to talk a lot about men." Dree said comfortably as they made their way 
round Picadilly. "She always believed that once a girl had got rid of them in those silly 
romantic ways, and decided against being pierced with those ridiculous prongs, there were 
some of the males who were quite good company and were useful in business. David's one 
like that."

Most of Philippa's attention was on the City of London and the pain in her crotch. Both 
seemed bent on mischief. She was positive her pubic hair flashed into view at every second 
step, and had a terrible suspicion the trifling little cape might be transparent in certain lights. 
She had abandoned concern over her arms. They had become slightly numb and seemed lost 
to her forever. Absently, she enquired: "Who's David?"

"Don't you remember, darling? He's the junior partner: The Ripon in "Hazlett, Krepps, 
Bundberry, Slade and Ripon." They were Auntie's lawyers. Now they're ours."

"How jolly for David." The caped captive said without enthusiasm. "Look here, Dree, can't 
we go to a 'Ladies' long enough for you to let this strap out a notch? Just one notch?"

"You're supposed to say it's killing you, Lippa dear. No, we won't stop. You'll have to put 
up with it. I always had to. Besides, David's waiting at the restaurant. He's buying us lunch."

"No!" The captive's heart was in the denial. It was too much! A man--while she was 
strapped and nude... ! "I refuse. It's impossible. I absolutely--"

"Don't be tiresome, dear. You know perfectly well you will."

"He's bound to suspect. Or catch a glimpse of a bit of me."

"So what! Don't fuss so."

"What will he think when I can't even touch a knife and fork?"

Dree giggled. "Intriguing, isn't it. He'll adore you."

"I don't want to be adored, not by a man. I want to go home."

"Come, come, darling." Dree had adopted the tone of a parent with a fractious child. "This 
is ever so much nicer for you than that little cell, or being tied to the post, or the ring in the 
floor. I hope you've noticed I haven't mentioned whipping you for being so sulky. But if you 
don't cheer up a bit, I will."

Philippa Coyle sniffed. It was best she did not say what was on her tongue. One day she 
probably would be whipped by this darling girl whose captive she might forever be. But she 
would delay that awful day for as long as she could command prudence or the shame of 
being humbly obedient. She entered the restaurant with her heart thudding, her cheeks 
aflame. She longed for freedom.

David Ripon was a perfect blend of charm and business. He eyed his stiffly upright guest 
sitting across the table with approval. His voice was public school. "Nive of Miss Laidlaw to 
leave us alone for a minute. She's a charming girl."

The harnessed girl tried hard to mask her fury at Dree's perfidy. To be left alone--like this! 
Helpless! She was quite sure this handsome product of The Establishment must be wondering 
about the cape and her absence of hands. But his smile was as reassuring as his voice as he 
shattered the last remnant of her poise.

"Miss Coyle, I am well aware you are naked under that thing you're wearing. Please don't 
feel embarrassed."

Frozen in shock, she stammered: "How... how can you-?"

"I would further surmise that your hands and arms are in some way secured behind your 
back. You are helpless."

He made it a statement, not a question. Unless she was to blurt out the outrage of her 
shame, it left Philippa nothing to say. She was cringing in anticipation of him speaking of the 
strap so deeply embedded at the junction of her thighs. Surely--surely--!! His eyes twinkled at 
her chagrin. "And I would believe this to be your first excursion into this wicked little 
escapade. Please don't look so distrait. I find this a charming flirtation with the erotic."

Realisation struck the bound girl like a blow. If this man knew, then she had nothing to 
lose, nothing to explain, no apologetic fumbling for the right words. He was her lawyer as well
as Dree's. There would be no nosey policeman or gaping pedestrians. All she needed was tact 
in asking what she must.

"Yes, it is my first time, Mr. Ripon. Adrienne is a persuasive little minx. But I'm afraid it's not
my cup of tea." She smiled confidingly. "I'm afraid the dear child is likely to tease me beyond 
my tolerance. She is inclined to be--imprudent. I'd be immensely grateful if you would now 
take me to some private place where you can release my hands. My hands and arms are laced 
into an odd leather device which causes my stiff posture. It is also intensely uncomfortable." 
Philippa composed her features and her request in conspiratorial confidence.

"Can't possibly, y'know. You're naked!"

"Yes you can. You have my permission."

"But it would be far less-awkward if-? Miss Coyle, this is a matter between you and Miss 
Laidlaw."

"She won't release me. I know she won't. I've already asked her. Please, Mr. Ripon?"

"But where could I take you? It can't be done in public."

He had a point. Philippa was close to tears at seeing freedom so close yet so denied by 
British righteousness. "Damn the details!" She said acidly. "Get me out of this."

David Ripon lost none of his sauvity. "You could not have got into this predicament 
without your consent." He said gently.

"I was tricked. Please! I am actually in pain."

"Let us await Miss Laidlaw's return."

"Dammit, man, don't you understand. The mischievous little baggage is keeping me 
prisoner against my will. Not just this bit of nonsense, but permanently."

David Ripon sighed. "I suppose I'd better tell you." He said resignedly. "Your Aunt confided
in me the eccentricities by which her family and your own have lived. The knowledge resides 
with me as a professional confidence. I will not violate that confidence, nor will I interfere in 
personal situations between you two cousins. In the long run neither of you would thank me if
I did."

"I would thank you now. I will pay-"

"Save your money, darling." Dree had returned in time to catch the damaging offer. "David
is a gentleman and a lawyer. You mustn't ask him to mess about with naked girls."

"Dree, stop that talk. Let me loose."

"Sorry, darling."

"All I have to do is scream or run and find a policeman."

"Run along, darling."

Philippa would have wept in defeat had it not been for a male hand gentle on her 
shoulder. David Ripon exuded comfort and normalcy. "You are overwrought, Miss Coyle. 
Believe me, in a week you will look back at this and laugh." Philippa did not believe, but was 
strangely comforted. She glared up at the recently arrived waiter and demanded a double 
whiskey. When he had gone she struggled furiously against her bonds, uncaring of who might
see or of what her scanty covering revealed. She achieved no more than a little extra pain and 
the exposure of her pubic hair. Dree refused to cover it again, and David Ripon affected not to
see.

"You do expect to be punished, Lippa?" Dree's cheerful solicitude held a hint of curiosity."

"Yes, of course." Philippa Coyle had decided to take her medicine without complaint. "I'm 
quite sure my conversation with David Ripon was unforgivable. You're going to whip me, 
aren't you?"

"Seems most appropriate. 'Sides, you've never been properly whipped. D'you feel a trifle 
vulnerable?"

"More than a trifle." Lippa looked up the length of her bare arms to where her wrists were 
strapped to a bar. They were a couple of feet apart and held her helpless. "Is this it, Dree? I 
mean, do I just stand like this on my toes while you whip me?"

"Oh, I could tie your feet. But I'll enjoy watching you kick and squirm. I used to try and 
stand quite still while I was lashed. But I never could, not after the first few."

"Do I really have to be naked? Whipped on my bare skin?"

"Of course, silly. It wouldn't hurt near enough otherwise." The younger girl giggled. "You're
not really stark naked, y'know."

Lippa knew! The belt was still tight round her waist. The strap between her thighs still 
viciously within her flesh. Anything she did made it hurt. Standing strained on tip-toe did not 
help. "Must I wear it while I'm whipped?" She enquired without complaint.

The loosing of buckles and snaps came without warning. When the punishment strap was 
peeled from her most secret place with one swift flash of agony, Philippa screamed. In a 
strange mixture of relief from pain past, and apprehension of pain to come, she burst into 
tears.

"You're a big girl to be such a cry baby." Dree chided without vexation as she dealt 
competently with her prisoner's tears. "But cry away. Right now you haven't much to laugh 
about."

"Thank you. Oh, thank you, Dree!"

"What on earth for?"

"For taking that awful thing out of me, and that belt. Oh, darling, I'm so grateful."

"You didn't think I was going to leave it there for life, did you?"

"Noooo, I suppose not. But thank you anyway."

"My, my, your dear little pussy sure is grateful. Are you ready to be whipped now?"

"Yes, I'm ready."

"You're awful matter of fact about it, Lippa. How come?"

The tractioned girl strained against her strapped wrists. '"I'm not sure I know." She 
admitted awkwardly. "I think it's because I've known it has to happen. Ever since you caught 
me trying to bribe David Ripon I've realised you almost had to punish me. If you forgave a 
prisoner something that bad you'd have to forgive almost anything." Dree had stripped to 
wield the whip. Now, as she lovingly clasped the girl she would punish, two pairs of young 
breasts crushed tight against each other as their owner's lips met in an avid need. After a long 
time when the two nudities became separate again, the younger said determinedly: "That 
doesn't change anything, y'know, darling."

"Yes, I know, Dree. You're still going to whip me."

"I'll make you a little happy first though." Young lips and fingers became teasing on the 
older girl's flesh. "I do love you a lot, Lippa dear."

"I know... Oh, I know...!"

"Do you realise how far you've come in so few days, darling? Sort of resigned and 
understanding. You've stopped rebelling."

"It doesn't do me any good to rebel." Philippa Coyle was gasping and straining at her 
straps. In selfless honesty, she added: "But I'll escape if I ever get the chance."

"In that case I'll stop making you feel good. Here, lick my hand. You've made it all wet."

"You'd have stopped anyway." The prisoner surmised wryly between licks. "I know when 
I'm being punished. But thanks, Dree dear, for being that kind. Its left me all hot and bothered,
but I expect the whip will cure that."

"The first couple may not, darling. I've discovered it works awful strange on us girls--Here, 
lick between my fingers now... Oh, and Lippa dear, aren't you curious about how many strokes
with the whip you're about to get?"

"I didn't think I was allowed to know."

"Your sentence is fifteen lashes. Ten on your bottom, five on your back."

Philippa Coyle quailed. The whip that had been abstract was abstract no longer. She 
assiduously licked and sucked. Her heartbeat accelerated. Finding no suitable retort she said, 
abjectly: "Thank you."

"What for this time?"

"For telling me how many strokes I have to have. I'm not sure right now, but it seems to 
me it has to help."

"And thank you for a clean hand-" Miss Philippa Coyle took the first four blows of her 
whipping in silence. After that she ceased to care about anything but pain. Every inch and 
crevice of her being responded to the snapping thong as it bit her nakedness again and again 
in long, slow, measured, strokes. She screamed without shame, and astounded herself by the 
gyrations she performed below her strapped wrists. She kicked, plunged, writhed and raised 
herself from the floor in a continual tribute to the skill of her youthful captor. Feminine 
intuition told her she was not being whipped with the full strength of Dree's bare arm. But 
that was small solace in an agony seemingly without end. Feverishly she counted each cut. 
But, strangely, never once did she think to plead. Glistening with her own sweat, and panting 
in the exhaustion of pain, she was left to stand alone in her strapped helplessness for an hour 
after the fifteen had been counted into silence.

Helpless and naked, the whipped girl stood as she must. Her wrists hurt, her toes were 
tired beyond bearing, but between them they must bear her weight. She had been told this 
penance was to last an hour. But she had no way of telling time. She was sure the hour would 
be long. But, even so, she knew a welling thankfulness. She had been whipped and it was 
done.

There remained an enigma. It was Dree. The two of them had discovered adoration for 
each other, yet the girl had pronounced sentence and executed it with a brisk efficiency, 
almost impersonal. Lippa knew that, for many girls, the whipping she had just endured would 
be traumatic. But throughout the agony the current of affection between herself and the girl 
with the whip had flowed undiminished. It was cruel to make her stand thus. But she was no 
longer ashamed by the certainty that if she was free to test her sex she would find it wet. So 
where were her judgments! She did not know.

Philippa Coyle wanted freedom. If she ever achieved it she would make certain it was never
again lost. But she was puzzled and uneasy about her ability to endure captivity. Did it mean 
she was latently submissive: that the reversal of roles was a case of water finding its own level! 
Did Dree possess some wisdom by which she knew, or was she only carrying mischief a step 
too far! Nakedly, Lippa squirmed in search of easement. There was none. The tight buckled 
straps around her wrists mocked her female strength. This was how it would always be now. 
She would never get loose from anything. Dree would always keep her helpless, even if it was 
only the handcuffs. Once you had a girl tight bound it was so easy to keep her forever. What 
Dree's motive might be in what was taking place remained a mystery. Her demeanour in her 
enslavement of her cousin spoke of purpose. But she was so young. Perhaps no more than a 
laughing naiad having fun. Lippa sighed in bafflement. The scorch of stripes was potent on her
skin.

"You poor darling. I'm a monster, aren't I, to make you stand like that--and after being 
whipped and all."

"Yes you are."

They kissed passionately. The captive sex was tested and found loaded with lubricant. Dree
stood back and surveyed her handiwork without any visible signs of regret.

"You look terribly beautiful, Lippa."

"Thanks. Is my hour up?"

"Yes. I'm cheating. But you're so glorious. You ought to see your whipmarks. They're 
yummy."

"There is a mirror, y'know. If I could ever get to it."

"You do so want to get loose, don't you! Darling, why do you still love me?"

"I've been wondering that myself. I honestly don't know."

"If I whipped you again, would you still love me?"

"Don't let's find out. Dree dear, please unbuckle these straps."

Dree laughed. "Golly, Lippa, you sure did dance and howl."

"Don't make me more ashamed than I am. But it hurt so damn awful."

"Yet you're still perky and sarcastic."

"On the surface." Lippa wriggled in a wry admission. "But if you said jump I'd jump."

"O.K. then. If I free you now, will you give me your hands to be tied or handcuffed?"

"No I won't!"

"Call that obedience?"

"I've a right to escape if I can." Lippa said sulkily. "I don't think that has anything to do with
obedience."

"Mmmmmm." Dree considered the proposition. "Maybe if I leave you fastened there for 
another hour or two...?" She asked blandly.

"Nooooo, oh Dree! Oh, don't tease. Promises made under coercion aren't supposed to 
hold."

"But if you made one you'd keep it?"

"Yes, I suppose--"

"Darling, I can easily cuff your ankles and put a collar on your neck before I loose you. It's 
no problem."

"Please hurry up and do it then. I'm so tired."

"Yes I know, darling. But this intrigues me. How about we call it giving me your parole for 
those couple of minutes?"

"I might as well give you my parole for life. Then you wouldn't have to keep me tied or 
chained. I'd simply do whatever you told me."

"That's a splendid idea."

"Oh, Dree, do be practical! My poor wrists...!"

"Your poor wrists will have to put up with it. Darling, I've decided. I want your parole. 
P--L--E--A--S--E! Just this once. I want to see you totally obedient."

"I'd be totally ashamed of myself. I'd be kicking myself forever that I didn't cut and run."

"It's a delicious situation to put you in. I love it."

"I don't! Dree, you little so-and-so, you've got me scared you'll keep me prisoner for life. 
You could. The way you've just whipped me shows you're not playing kid's games. I'm as 
deadly serious about escaping as you were with that whip."

"I want your parole, Lippa. The idea of you squirming in that mental agony lights a fire in 
my cunt. It's scrumptious."

Philippa Coyle pouted at a prospect she did not relish. True, she could break her promise, 
then overpower her youthful tormentor and exact a terrible vengeance. But she could not see 
herself doing this. She shrank both from the breaking of her word and the violent physical 
battle that must ensue. Her protest was logical: "But don't you see, you outrageous child, if we
do this once we may as well do it all the time. We'd have established a sort of principle."

The whip snapped round her taut waist in a cut more cruel than any of the others. It left 
Philippa Coyle wide eyed in surmise and breathless in agony.

"That's for the 'outrageous child' crack, Lippa dear." Dree informed blandly. "There remains
the matter of your parole."

"You mean you'll whip me until I give in?" Lippa asked, aghast.

"No. The whip's too cruel. All I have to do is leave you there." Dree surveyed her whipped 
cousin wistfully. "But I don't want to do that to you either. Why won't you humour me just this
once? I've already said the prettiest P-L-E--A--S--E I know how."

It was hopeless. Philippa Coyle knew it was hopeless. She had no defences against this 
adorable girl. If she did not capitulate one way she would another. She knew it would be so 
much nicer if she was willing. It would be a bond between them. And anyway... she was terribly
tired of standing on her toes with her wrists strapped up in the air above her head. She 
grinned ruefully. "Alright, Dree, you've got my parole."

The younger girl was breathless with delight. The straps fell away beneath her eager 
fingers. "There." She said. And then again: "There... you're free!" She backed away and drank in
her captive's movements with sparkling eyes.

For the captive girl herself it was a haunted moment. She was ashamed of her thumping 
heart. She had intended to instantly proffer her hands, putting herself beyond temptation. But,
instinctively, she found herself massaging her punished wrists. "May I?" She asked wistfully. 
"For just a moment? I won't renege."

Dree was a whirlwind of delight. There were kisses and hugs and gasping exclamations. In 
the end it was the younger girl whose fingers and lips ministered to the indentations of the 
straps. But when that was past she stood back as she had been before. Her face was vividly 
alive in full awareness of the moment in time in which they stood, wide eyed in questioning. 
She said, simply: "Lippa, you're my whole life."

Philippa herself longed to stretch her moments of freedom, to savour them as something 
precious and unlikely to recur. She was like the person who is allowed to hold a treasure in the
hand as a momentary privilege, the thrill of a lifetime, before it is relinquished. She was naked 
but she was free. No part of her was restrained. How easy it would be to reject captivity! It 
seemed almost a duty. And yet... ! "How do you want me?" She asked brightly, and stared, 
smiling, into her captor's eyes.

"Cross them behind your back, Lippa."

It was a relief to feel the bite of cord. Decision was past. Her life now would follow a 
pattern she had not chosen. She would bitterly regret lost freedom. But she had known that 
when she gave her parole. The solemnity of the moment was unexpectedly affected by a wave
of feminine lust as she stood erect and passive while the young fingers bound her crossed 
wrists behind her back with firm tight bands from which there would be no escape. Wryly she 
conceded this moment as the beginning of a lifetime of imprisonment as Dree's slave. It was 
as though she had voluntarily asked for this new captivity. With every part of her being aflame
with desire, she did not care.

When night came, Philippa was allowed to share Dree's bed. She was granted the total 
freedom of her own limbs, but her captivity was emphasised by a metal collar round her neck 
and a chain only long enough to suit Dree's needs. Whenever it proved too short for all their 
lovemaking, the younger girl would arrange her own person to accommodate the shortfall. 
During all their ecstasies Lippa never doubted her own slavery. The short chain, and the whip 
weals on which she often lay were testimony enough.

In the morning she was half way to the bathroom before realisation struck her like a blow. 
The collar was still on her neck but its chain dangled uselessly, fastening her to nothing. The 
bed was empty, but that was unremarkable. On Dree's pillow lay a note: "Most darling 
Executrix of Estates: You will find me in the Cell.

Dree."

On the note was a key. It fitted the collar. Taking the metal circlet from her neck, Philippa 
Coyle knew one of the strangest sensations of her life. She was free! Nakedly and with 
thudding heart she sped downstairs. Against the cell's stone wall drooped Dree's exquisite 
nudity. Her neck was collared and tethered by the short chain Lippa remembered all too well. 
Her wrists were handcuffed behind her back. As the cell door opened, she sprang erect in 
gladness.

"Oh, darling, I've been waiting for you simply hours. Oh, this is so good...!"

"I'm here, Dree. I'll always be here--!"

They wallowed in adoration. Lippa had never realised before how good it was to have 
hands. She used them. Dree stood, chained. Neither of them thought of keys.

"Don't ever let me go, Lippa."

"Nunnuh!"

"And be sure and whip me this afternoon."

"Mmmmmm!"





CHAPTER FOUR - GIRL CAGE


For a bird the cage would have been large. For a girl it was small. Dree could just sit upright 
without bowing her head, but she could not stretch her legs. Her knees were not far from her 
chin. "Are you sure you want my arms handcuffed behind my back, Lippa?" She asked placidly.
"I can't possibly do anything in here."

"You could if I gave you your hands."

"Oh, that! Darling, I'm replete, satiated, loved to bits and exhausted. The only thing I might
do with my pussy is scratch it if it itched."

"Trying to wriggle out of the handcuffs will give you something to do."

"Darling Lippa, as if I could--or would!"

"I'll never take chances with you again. You're a wanton little witch."

"Oh, thank you muchly. I say, darling, how long are you going to keep me in here?"

"For several days at least."

"That's the same as saying you won't tell me. Lippa dear, I'm going to get awfully stiff and 
cramped."

"You will, won't you! But you can look forward to the bathroom morning and evening. It's 
a nice long walk and I'll bathe you once a day. That's the real reason I want you handcuffed. 
Saves fuss."

The woeful captive gave momentary attention to the very solid bars, the very solid door, 
and the very solid padlock. She tugged at her joined wrists fretfully. "This isn't really my 
favourite punishment." She admitted slowly.

"I'd thought you were going to whip me?"

"I know you did. That's why I put you in there. It's not really a punishment: just a small 
prison."

"Hmmmmm, I'm glad you think so. Are you sure you wouldn't like to take off these 
handcuffs? You can always put them back on before you take me out to pee. You can do it 
through the bars."

"Yes, I'm quite sure."

"If you're going to keep me in this little pokey several days I'd much sooner be whipped."

"I'm so glad you told me. Let's make it a week."

"Darling, be nice to me. Please whip me."

"Well, Dree dear, if you absolutely insist. I'll take you out and whip you this evening and 
have you back in there by beddy-bye."

The caged captive sniffed. "You're teasing." She accused. "You really should treat me with 
loving kindness instead of putting me in here. Do you realise all the things I thought of to do 
to you but didn't?"

"You did quite enough."

"I was going to stretch you out and pull all your pussy hairs, one by one."

"I don't believe a word."

"And I was going to put a vibrator against your clit and leave it running for hours."

"Don't be disgusting."

"And I was going to shave you bald-Up top, I mean. Either that or shave off your 
eyebrows."

"You're a small sadist. Perhaps we should make your stay in there ten days."

"And I did think of strapping your wrists like when I whipped you, and then having a man 
come in and look at you naked."

"Perhaps you'd like me to do some of these things to you?"

"I wouldn't mind, Lippa. So long as it was you."

Once more, Philippa felt the compelling heat and the surge of desire. The girl in the cage 
was irresistible, a sexual magnet. But, more than that she was love. Her simple affirmation, just 
uttered, melted the heart and brought tears to the eyes. In deep thankfulness the older girl 
glimpsed her blessedness in this caged gift from a woman now dead and who she had known 
but little. She owned Dree. Dree was utterly and totally hers in both spirit and flesh. She would
wonder forever at her luck. In a burst of affection she used the tiny key and took the 
handcuffs from the small passive hands behind the bars.

"Gee thanks! Oh, darling, thank you... thank you. I didn't believe--"

"Always temper justice with mercy, dear."

"Well, yes . . The caged youngster took a deep breath and plunged: "Lippa dear, don't let 
me fox you. I will, every chance I get. But you're so damn sweet, and I'm so crafty. You mustn't 
let me wheedle and cozen and twist you. Being a permanent captive I don't have any 
conscience about taking advantage--" Lippa was close to laughter in her chagrin. "Those 
handcuffs--You mean I've just been foxed?"

"I'm afraid so. Aren't I awful!"

"Seems I've got a lot to learn."

"Maybe you can teach me to behave. Lippa, put them back on. Here, I'll help--and make 
them tight."

Philippa looked at the two small hands thrusting themselves between bars, and knew she 
was foxed indeed. "You're quite impossible, Dree." She laughed. "But you're forgiven the 
handcuffs. Scratch your pussy all you like."

"I've been bad. Punish me."

"No I won't! You can earn remission by telling me your reasons for doing what you 
did-what you did with me." The naked nymph within the bars twisted unhappily and looked 
up with wide innocent eyes. "I'd sooner you punished me, Lippa."

"I'll decide when and how you get punished." Lippa said firmly. "You'd be shocked out of 
your skin if I took you out of there and thrashed you."

"No I wouldn't-Honest! I feel penitent. It would do me good.' "I refuse to indulge you. I 
think you're getting your pussy hot with all this insistence on being whipped. I want your 
confession. If you don't start on it right now I'll cover your cage with a blanket and you can sit 
there in the dark."

"Mmmmmmmmmm... " Dree cocked a cute eye at her guardian as though assessing how 
far she might stray from the truth. "There isn't much to tell." She said doubtfully.

"Tell it anyway. What I want to know is how you managed to handcuff my arms behind my 
back without waking me that first night."

"That's where the whole thing began, darling. When I woke up and realised you'd 
forgotten to tie or chain me I just couldn't resist. You were deep, deep in sleep, but I never 
expected to get more than one cuff on you before you woke."

"What good would that have done?"

Dree giggled. "A sort of reprimand, darling. Teach you not to take me for granted. You 
really mustn't trust me, Lippa. Not ever."

"O.K. You're sentenced to seven years in chains. Now carry on."

The youngster in the cage wriggled ruefully. "You must blame the way you were laying. It 
was just exactly right. All I had to do was be quiet and careful. Even the clicks didn't warn you. 
You were dead away. You looked so sweet. So I covered you up and went down to the 
kitchen."

"But you did have a motive?"

"No I didn't." The captive squirmed in her confinement. "I was bursting with laughter. I 
thought it would be a great big hoot. I was going to tease you awhile and then let you go and
I'd take the consequences. But you look so long to wake I got to thinking."

"Weren't you ashamed? Taking advantage-?"

"Not really. Like I said, I'm incorrigible. And anyway, I thought you'd get a giggle out of it 
too."

"I would have, if it had stopped there."

"That's your fault. You should have woke up. But you gave me time to think, and the 
longer I thought about it the better the idea seemed to show you the other side "You could 
have asked... suggested--"

"That wouldn't have been any good. It had to be against your will. You had to be a real 
prisoner so you'd know how a prisoner feels when she hasn't any hope of escape, not ever."

"You had a nerve--"

"But, darling, don't you see--" The prisoner in the cage had become intent in what she was
trying to say. "Here you and I were with a whole life ahead of us, or at least seven years. I've 
been a captive on and off all my life, I wouldn't want to try and live any other way." Dree 
chuckled. "Auntie used to say I was born handcuffed. But it was different with you. Sure you'd 
had a wish that had never come true until now. But you didn't have any experience at all."

"I didn't need any."

"Yes you did! Lippa, think a bit. Think about standing alone and chained in the cell. Think 
about having your neck chained to the ring and laying naked all night on the floor with just 
one blanket. And then just suppose the time came, and it would have, when you decided I 
needed whipping... ? Could you have whipped me as intelligently and sensibly as you can now
you know what it's like?"

It was Philippa's turn to twist against the irrefutable. But she yielded ground reluctantly. "It 
was pure self interest, you little monkey. You wanted to make sure I never gave you more than
you could take."

"O.K. I'll go along with that. Now punish me."

"You claim that little cage is a punishment. Enjoy it, dear."

"Oh alright... " Dree twinkled at a memory. "Y'know, Lippa darling, I loved every moment of
what I did to you." She laughed delightedly. "There were times when you looked so upset--"

"Was I supposed to give three hearty cheers?"

"Well no, but there were times when your cunt hotted up to where you could hardly stand 
it. You were sort of half ashamed of that, but I knew. You made a most satisfying captive, 
darling."

"For that, you can stick your hands back through the bars."

"For what, darling?"

"The four letter word: used in relation to myself."

"Oh gee... " The caged girl wriggled and contrived to extrude her hands as ordered. "Oh 
gollies, Lippa... "

Philippa imprisoned the delinquent wrists in steel, clicking the chrome tight. "There, let 
that be a lesson. And now I have a lot of things to do." She was half way to the door when she
was followed by a small wan voice: "Lippa."

"What now?"

"I need to scratch my cunt."

"Good! It will give you something to strive for all day."

Philippa Coyle, her loins scorching demandingly, slammed the door with unnecessary 
emphasis, and strode to a task too long delayed.

The familiar handwriting brought tears to Philippa's eyes as she scanned the first page of 
her Aunt's Journal. The date on the top corner was seventeen months previous. Determinedly, 
she sat down to read.

----

Dearest Philippa:

Today the doctor told me for certain. My time is short for these things I must say. You and 
Dree are the last of our family. Since our women have been lesbians for as far back as I can 
trace, this is not more than an inevitability. My Estate will give you both the freedom to be 
what you are. Enjoy it.

I have long known you were one of us. Let me use no synonyms, no silly euphemisms. You 
love girls. You adore them bound, and chained, and locked behind bars. So do I. We are alike. I
have been blessed with Dree. I bequeath her to you. She is infinitely precious. Keep her always
bound and lovingly punished. She will adore you as she has adored me. But watch her, she is a
delicious little cheat.

Aware of our dying family, I have taken steps to ensure the perpetuation of our Sapphic 
Sisterhood. Aylebury Court is a highly respected school for girls. It is patronized by the better 
families. But its students are girls like Dree. A discreet grapevine spreads the word, and 
puzzled parents, or those who can't be bothered, send us a small select group of exquisitely 
feminine captives who range in age from ten to twenty. At the moment there is a girl there as 
old as you.

We average about thirty-five girls who stay with us for the full period of their schooling. 
The associations they form at Aylebury ensure they will never be alone. We are, moreover, 
providing facilities by which graduates may return to us should their heart's desire elude them
in society. This is a functioning profitable property on which our lawyers can give you details.

Aylebury Court is presided over, and most competently managed, by the Head Mistress, 
Miss Jessica Kilroy. She and I are old friends. She will be your friend too. You must visit her. 
She will expect you. If it amuses you, take Dree. See how the darling child relates. Jessica is a 
woman of character. She is tremendously aware. Frankly, I cannot tell how Aylebury Court may
affect you, or you influence it. It is simply one more treasure in this cornucopia of femininity I 
have poured into your lap. You are a lucky girl! I was not granted the time to explore all of 
Aylebury's possibilities. Perhaps you will.

I have been besotted with Dree, and with mademoiselle Denise Lafleur. Denise is your own
age, and you must remember I am not terribly much older than you. The sap runs high in all 
of us--at least, it did."

Mademoiselle Denise knows I am dying. She will return, by her own insistence, to the small
provincial French town from whence she came. I predict she will grow bored and long for 
Dree. Should you wish to contact her... ?

I find myself wanting to tell you of Denise. She forms a background of which you should 
be aware. One day she knocked at my door. From then on it went something like this: 
"Madam, I beat not the bush. You are possessing a jeune fille for whom I wish to be the 
Governess."

"But mademoiselle, I have no need--"

"You have a need of my academe, Madam. The child must learn. I am also much aware of 
what goes on. I will tie your petite lovebird most tight."

Philippa dear, what would have done? I just gasped. Then I was angry. I stammered out: 
"What on Earth! What is it you think you've found out?"

"That you and your cherie adore the bonds. I watch. I observe. I make with the questions. I 
pry. I am deplorable and without shame."

She suddenly seemed like a little girl, earnestly pleading. "I am as you are, madam. For me,
the rope and the chain, the strap and the whip are of a necessity. Without them there is no joi 
de vivre."

"But I don't know you!"

"Madam. I show my credentials-The reference... " Philippa, the French are an odd lot. But in
the basics they're damned pragmatic. Before I could say or do anything mademoiselle Lafleur 
started to undress in the middle of my lounge. She went about it in a forthright sort of way 
that stifled my protest. As she removed some extremely unattractive clothes I began to see 
her for what she is: an exquisitely lovely young woman, from who was emanating a scent or 
perfume, evocative and potent, t could not place. I learned later it was of herself. Denise 
Lafleur needed no perfumier. When excited she exuded a scent provocatively her own.

"I pay the money, madam, for this my reference. A girl of the streets obliges me for cash."

Denise was naked and I was breathless. My pulse was thudding and I was alive with lust. 
Quite matter-of-factly she posed for me, pointing out the quality of her breasts and the thick 
black curls of her pubic hair. Her waist was amazingly narrow.

"Now, madam, I turn and you will observe."

Her back and her derriere were as gorgeous as the rest. But their ivory whiteness was 
crossed by the scarlet and purple bars of weals. A whip or a cane had been used upon her 
cruelly.

"The girl was of a greediness, madam. One pound for each is her charge for what you now 
behold. There are fifteen-"

"But why--?"

"Are they not better than words, madam? How else could I convince. They were much 
hurting, so she must tie my wrists to her bed."

"But, mademoiselle, for a Governess--Why?"

"That I may make a gift of my body to you." Her face became a sweet mask of longing. She
made a small moue of deprecation. "You see, madam, it is that I am of both. The child need 
never know. For her I am The Governess. But for you I am the petite slave girl who obeys... "

Philippa, I was in agony. I knew there was no way I could refuse. In a way, Denise was the 
stronger of us. More probably it was the practical French in her and her great need. She 
confessed afterwards that she trembled there, naked, awaiting my reaction. All I could see was
the nude slenderness of brunette beauty. All I could hear was her simple request:

"Perhaps madam has a whip... a cane...?"

I had a riding crop, light enough to be used on girls. In the drawer with it was rope. I heard
my voice asking from a great distance: "Do you wish to be tied, mademoiselle?"

"Mais oui!" She looked around my lounge. "But this is not the place for the tying of girls so
they cannot move. But it would please me much for just the symbol... " She offered me her 
crossed wrists. "With my hands tied I will stand much still."

It was me who was trembling now. I tied the wrists of mademoiselle Denise Lafleur so tight
I knew they hurt and must be loosed soon because of circulation. She watched, with a vivid 
intensity, as I took away the freedom of her hands. When I had pulled the knot tight she 
tested and seemed tremendously pleased. Politely, she said: "Merci beaucoup. Madam is 
highly skilled." Again she looked around. "Where and how would madam wish me to 
position-?"

I had her stand dead centre. Then I cropped her bottom and back with medium strokes, 
well spaced in time and to avoid existing weals. She took my whipping with a delectable 
French poise that set me afire between my thighs. Half the time she managed to look back, 
her crossed hands covering her breasts, as though to lend me encouragement. Her smile was 
as French as the rest of her. She swayed and writhed a bit but never broke her stance. She was
utterly splendid. Towards the end she wept. But I was never sure whether her tears were of 
agony or joy.

The whole thing was just too much to bear. Without caring for her trussed wrists we fell 
upon each other like a pair of ravening she wolves.

I said, yes, she was hired in whatever capacity she chose. We never did speak of money. It 
simply did not matter.

That left us with darling little Dree. But first I insisted on Denise wearing something of 
mine. She might be a Governess but she did not have to look like a hospital matron. We went 
up to Dree's room where I'd left her handcuffed and reading a book. She was wearing a few 
bits of clothing, bright coloured stuff she loved. When she looked up at our entry I knew 
everything was going to be wonderful.

I expect we sense each other, send out vibrations. Dree was eyeing her new Governess 
hungrily even before I'd finished explanations. It was as though the three of us had always 
been together. I could tell they could hardly wait to get at each other. After I'd trailed into 
silence, mademoiselle cocked a French eyebrow at me and asked politely: "If madam permits?"

I handed her the key and watched her unlock Dree's handcuffs and set them aside. She 
stood back and measured a brightly expectant girl.

"And now, ma petite, those clothes, n'est ce pas?"

Dree had not always been naked. It had been a mood thing with us, but very much de 
rigueur when she was to be punished. She thought she was to be punished now, and looked 
to me for permission to obey. When I nodded, she was bare in seconds.

"Absolument exquisite!" Denise exchanged a female glance with me. "If we could but keep
her thus forever!"

"Well, you can jolly well keep me naked if you want to." Dree volunteered cheerfully.

"And perhaps, ma petite, you have rope or cords?"

In a flash our special silken rope was in Mademoiselle's hands. She fingered it lovingly. 
"And now, little Dree, your arms behind your back s'il vous plait."

Dree was in a seventh heaven. She turned her back and arranged her arms for binding. 
She positively glowed. I watched, entranced.

"The little hands palm to palm, n'est ce pas."

Denise's dexterity with rope was almost lethal. In about a minute Dree's wrists were neatly 
corded. Only two strands, cinched through the centre. That was all.

"And now the petite elbows-" I almost protested. Elbows hurt. But Dree caught my eye and
shook her head. Twelve years of girl stood very erect, head back, nostrils flared, while rope 
laced her arms and, little by little, clamped them tight together. The half dozen bands were 
cinched and knotted with much care. They were a pretty picture. Neatness in bindings doubles
their potency. I liked the effect so much my sex was blazing.

Mademoiselle turned the naked Dree around as though she was an upright package. Her 
scrutiny was thorough and more for the girl than her bonds. Dree was breathing quickly, eyes 
sparkling. At twelve she had young breasts, and I well remember their erect nipples as she was
approvingly inspected. Her pubic hair also was lush for her age. The new Governess fingered it
lovingly as though to do so was the most natural instinct in the world.

"And perhaps a gag?"

That one shocked. I'd only used them as a punishment too. But Dree's eyes still sparkled 
so I showed mademoiselle our collection. She selected a ball small enough to fit well inside a 
girl's mouth. Dree engulfed all she could of it and held steady as the straps were buckled 
behind her neck. The little minx actually looked at me and winked.

"And so there may be no going for the walk."

This time we were back to handcuffs. Mademoiselle locked them tightly on Dree's tiny 
ankles. They looked sweet. She stood back with me and shared my admiration. Dree was too 
pretty for words--and too helpless!

"We have much to talk of, madam. We leave our douce child to her own devices. Should 
she wish rest she can hop to the bed."

Dree could not speak, but her bright eyes cautioned me.

She was strangely content in so harsh a bondage. I could sense her happiness. We both 
kissed her and went down to my study.

That was the beginning. For me it has had no end. Denise and I are lovers. In private she is 
my slave. I treat her cruelly. Far more cruelly than I treat Dree. But we have fallen into an easy 
acceptance of our submissions and authorities. Dree knows only that she has a Governess and
an Aunt. She gives herself to us and to what we do with her joyously.

For the first couple of years I could thrash Denise as I wished. But it was inevitable that 
Dree ripen early. At fourteen she sought and revelled in moist thighs and seeking tongues. I 
don't think either of us taught her a thing. She knew instinctively what to do. It never occurred
to her to see anything remarkable in making female love. She had heard the word, Lesbian, 
but never used it. For her it was all a part of loving and being loved. But girls do not make love
with their clothes on, and it would never do for Dree to see her Governess with welted skin. So
my floggings of Denise's lovely back and bottom had to cease. It was Denise herself who 
bravely came up with an answer I would never have mentioned.

"But I must be punish'. I cannot live without." She looked up at me pathetically from where
she crouched naked beside my chair.

I leaned down and kissed her upturned lips. "I'll punish you with bondage and the gag." I 
promised.

"Mais non! It is not the same. I have a need." She looked up jubilantly. "I have inspiration. I 
have little feet that can be tied tight with their soles turned to the ceding, and the little soles 
can be whipped so that I cry." She sounded like a child who has just found a treasure in the 
bushes.

"Denise, don't be absurd. The pain would be awful."

"It would be only what you made it, beloved. And the marks won't show."

She had a point. And, of course, I wanted it as much as she did. But it wasn't a really 
perfect solution. Denise's soles were tiny, they were an inadequate substitute for her bottom 
and her back. When I pointed this out she came up with another brainwave. But, my hands... 
The palms of my hands... ! They are swished with a cane like once in school?"

It was only a second best. But we settled for that.

And so, darling Philippa, there it is. That is the main story. This Journal contains, in later 
pages, notes, comments and information.

I love you and Dree very much.

Auntie.

----

Philippa Coyle closed the hard covers of her Aunt's testament. She blinked back tears. She 
doubted that any woman ever had been willed such a plethora of femininity as had been 
poured into her lap. Dree was enchantment. Aylebury was magic. Denise beckoned. All were in
her hands. Ruefully, she realised that any one of them might know better what to do with such
riches than she herself. Dree alone was a handful.

The cage had only slightly subdued the girl it held. The closely imprisoned child ran true to
form. "I bet you've run off and read Auntie's journal?" She accused mockingly.

"I should have read it before."

"So should I." Dree giggled. "I found out where it was after Auntie died. Mademoiselle 
caught me just when I was on the last pages. Was she ever mad!"

"I hope she whipped you."

"Did she ever! Gosh, she was upset." Dree sighed in memory. "It was the most marvelous 
whipping she ever gave me. You should have heard me yell. She left me tied to the post all 
day. But at night we cried each other to sleep in her bed. It was then she told me she really 
was going back to France. She insisted that since I now knew all about her and Auntie and 
what they did she couldn't be my Governess any more. And anyway, you were coming."

"Do you want her back?"

"Darling, she'll come when she's ready. Don't worry. I say, Lippa, how about letting me out 
of here for a rest?"

"You've not been in there long enough."

"How about just thirty minutes?"

"Goodness, no!"

"Fifteen... Or maybe ten?"

"No."

Dree sighed. "You really are learning, darling. But, honest, I sure would like to get out of 
this damn cage. I can hardly move, and my knees are really cheesed off. Can't you hear them 
screaming?"

"No."

"My pussy still needs scratching. I haven't been able to reach."

"Good!"

"Would you mind reaching in and helping out?"

"If you don't stop nagging I'll gag you."

"No you won't, darling. You want to talk. I can tell."

As usual, Dree was right. The Journal had left questions. At thought of a forcibly muted 
Dree Philippa Coyle realised her emotional dependence on the moppet in the cage. Passing 
the ball, she asked: "After stealing your peek, and after you'd been whipped for stealing it, 
what thought was left uppermost in your mind, Dree?"

"That sometime I'd be sent to Aylebury."

"Would you like that?"

"How do I know, darling? I might hate it. But my cunt crinkles at the thought of stern 
Mistresses and caned hands."

"That word will cost you a gag. But not right now."

"Oh. Lippa, if I say pussy six times in a row will you let me off the gag?"

"No. But about Aylebury, wouldn't the regimentation of an institution stifle that crinkle of 
yours?"

"Lippa, let's both go?"

"I could take you down, and leave you there."

"No. You stay too!"

"After I'd delivered you and had a talk with Jessica Kilroy I'd be very much de trop. One 
thing I must not do is interfere at Aylebury."

The caged girl giggled. "Darling, you miss the point. Let's both of us go as pupils, or 
delinquents, or whatever they call the inmates. Doesn't the thought curl your--pussy?"

Lippa was furious. But with herself. Her hand had come close to clutching her crotch at 
Dree's wickedly perceptive suggestion. It would indeed be erotically stimulating to place 
herself in such a plight. To set in motion a wheel she could not stop, with herself at the hub. 
But she made a terse disposal of the temptation. "Miss Kilroy would never agree--"

"See, you actually would like to! I can tell by your voice and your clutching at excuses. Oh, 
Lippa, it would be such fun, and our attempts to escape would be for real. You've got me all 
excited."

"You've got yourself excited."

"You can let me out of the cage now that's all settled."

"Nothing is settled, and you stay as you are."

"Darling, you're so slow. It screams aloud how we'd have to do this. You start the wheels in
motion. Get us enrolled. Two naughty girls... ! One's a bit older than the other, but that won't 
matter at Aylebury. You can lay it on thick about us being naughty."

"Dree, don't be absurd. By their standards I'd be considered a very adult woman."

"You're going to do it! I just know you are. I'd clap my hands if I could but I can't. And as 
for your age: remember what Auntie said! Gee, Darling, I sure hope I'm present the first time 
they make you hold out your hand for the cane."

"You're a little monster." The older girl sobered. "Dree, how do you see me? How do we 
relate?"

"You're another Mademoiselle."

It was the same as being suddenly stripped. Lippa's hands sought her breasts, her cheeks 
flamed. Denials died on her tongue as she faced a truth about herself she had not seen. But 
Dree had seen. Dree saw everything. "You mean...?" She asked slowly. "I'd be just as happy in 
that cage as I am out here?"

"Of course. But you don't have to face any awful admissions. Anyway, now that's looked 
after we might as well change places."

"Dree!"

"Ooops, sorry! Don't rush for the gag. But don't feel badly about what I've said. I mean, 
don't, be like mademoiselle and rush off to France or somewhere. But, darling, it is true, isn't 
it?"

"... Yes."

"It hurt to say that. Darling Lippa, you're so sweet. Sometimes you seem younger than 
me."

"You seem born with a thousand years of wisdom, Dree. Half the time you make me feel an
adolescent."

"Right now you're half ashamed of being what you are. But don't you see! You and 
mademoiselle can have the best of two worlds. You're terribly lucky--ever so lucky."

"I'm ever so confused."

"No you're not. You're just a bit miffed about what I've said. But another thing you have to 
consider is ME. I'm not a bit like mademoiselle. I'm just ME, a little naughty girl in a cage with 
her wrists handcuffed so she can't scratch her puss."

Philippa Coyle sifted the words of their exchange. Her eyes devoured the caged and 
handcuffed loveliness of her ward. It would be foolish to feel chagrined by this revelation of 
herself. The younger girl had been a captive all her life. But she had revelled in the beneficence
of her Aunt's bequest for only a matter of days. Feeling like a child, she asked, hesitantly: 
"When you made me your captive, did I appear to be enjoying myself?"

"Your puss was always wet. There's your answer."

"But you enjoyed what you-did to me?"

"Darling, I loved you. I enjoyed all the expressions on your face. You were so upset, and 
bewildered, and a bit scared. But I felt guilty all the time, and out of place. I had to do some 
acting. Secretly I wanted to be where you were. I'm no way dominant. If I'm not made captive 
for at least a part of each day I'm unhappy."

"But you'd like to get out of that cage?"

"If I can talk you into letting me loose I will. It's really not much fun in here, and 
handcuffed and all. It's a punishment. But, like Auntie said, I'm not to be trusted."

"Hmmmmm!" Philippa found herself at a loss. "Alright, so I change places with you now. 
Would that give you a thrill?"

"Of course. But it would pass. I'd soon want to revert. The important thing right now is 
YOU, darling. Subconsciously you've always wanted to be bound. Now you can be! I tied and 
whipped you enough for any girl, and you made your discovery. But it gives you the same 
delight to tie me, or put me in this cage. Lippa, you've got it made! I'll shout out for joy with 
you if you're still shy." For Philippa Coyle it was a thoughtful afternoon. She did everything 
slowly, savouring visions. Dree intruded on her most. When evening came she went, with 
accelerated pulse, to match her wits against her ward.

Each was chary of words. But the air was electric as the key snapped open the big padlock 
and the cautious captive edged her way out of her small prison. Because of the handcuffs, 
Lipps helped the slim nudity to its feet and was instantly kissed and kissed again.

"Oh, Lippa darling... ! Oh, thank you! Oh jeepers, I wanted to get out of that cage so damn 
bad! My poor knees!" Dree took a couple of tentative steps and shook herself as though 
sloughing off some stigma unseen. Her voice was only half banter. "Darling, I've been so long 
in there. I'm afraid you've got a very subdued little girl."

"Good."

"I haven't even asked you to take off my handcuffs."

"I wouldn't anyway."

"And I need to pee so bad."

"The bathroom's yours."

"It's awful to sit chained in a cage and just bursting to go to the bathroom, and not 
knowing when you're going to be let loose."

"I'm sure it is."

"Oh well, if you're going to play the high and mighty... " The naked youngster made a 
crippled progress toward relief. Philippa was not impressed by an artificial limp. When the 
teenager reappeared there was a weighted silence.

"Get back in the cage, dear."

Dree tugged at her pinioned arms. "Oh, darling, must I?"

"Yes."

"But it's so awful in there, and I'm so tired of it, and my knees hurt, and I've forgotten why 
I had to be in there anyway."

"I haven't."

"Lippa, don't be so terse with me. I'll cry."

Lippa steeled her heart. She felt genuinely sorry for this penitent child. But she knew these 
moments of love and welling sympathy would occur again and again. She had to learn to 
cope with them. If she was going to allow Dree's histrionic talents to sway each confrontation 
she might as well crawl into the cage herself and hand the younger girl the keys. She infused 
her voice with sweet reason: "Get into the cage, Dree."

The tears seemed genuine. So did the plea: "You're being terribly unkind, darling. But if 
you absolutely must put me back in there, at least do something nice for me first. Give me a 
bath?"

It was a delicious torment to soap and water the teenage curves. But Lippa excused her 
weakness. After all, the child had been cruelly confined! A bath was actually in order. She 
worked briskly on Dree's nakedness, resolutely setting aside any thought of lips and tongues.

"Please soap my pussy a bit more, darling."

"Just this once. Then forget your pussy."

"My breasts then. You know you love them-and it feels so nice."

"Oh, alright... "

"I do love you, Lippa."

"I love you too, Dree."

"Are you sure you want to put me back in that cage?"

"Yes, quite sure."

"Hmmmmm. Couldn't we make love for a little while first?"

"We never make love for a little while. If we start it goes on all night."

"That would be nice."

"Well, it isn't going to happen. So forget it."

"But, Lippa dear, it's not as though I'm free. You've got me handcuffed. I have to obey you.
I can't argue--"

"You never stop arguing. That reminds me. You're going to be gagged."

"Nnnnnnng... Oh, darling! Oh no!" Dree's wail was real.

"Oh yes! Really, dear, you absolutely must curb these complaints. When your present 
punishment is over you can behave and never go in the cage or be gagged again. But in the 
meantime--!"

"In the meantime you're going to put me in there for days and days!"

Lippa, busy towelling beloved flesh, compromised.

"Alright, you persuasive little monkey: Five days instead of ten."

"But they're both impossible. I'll die."

"Very well. Just three. That's final."

The youngster's tears were genuine as she fell to her knees to reenter her barred 
confinement. But she opened her mouth without demur for the ball, and kept still as it was 
strapped tight and deep within her mouth. When she looked up and tried to smile, it took all 
Lippa's fortitude to snap the padlock tight. She backed away slowly, loath to leave her darling 
through the night. The girls looked longingly at each other through the bars before Philippa, 
in swift determination, went away.

But, for Philippa Coyle, there was no sleep. That part of herself bared by Dree's perception 
was a constant nag. It both frightened and intrigued. It could change her life. But over all the 
events of the day there loomed a constant picture in her mind. It was of a naked girl in a small
cage. A girl with handcuffed wrists, and in her mouth a gag most cruelly strapped. Philippa 
Coyle fought temptation, but did not win. Naked, she went downstairs and used a key.

But she also used judgement. The handcuffs remained behind Dree's back. Safely in their 
bed, the metal collar was locked upon Dree's neck, its chain was short. It was not until then 
that Lippa took the gag from her darling's mouth. After they had kissed rapturously and long, 
their avowals held a terrible sincerity.

"I love you, Lippa, oh so much."

"I love you, Dree... I love you terribly."

"Darling, don't trust me. Don't give me even half a chance."

"If I can remember, I'll chain your ankle too. But not until after."

There was no after.





CHAPTER FIVE - TWO MISTRESSES


The four pairs of childish eyes were defeating. Philippa Coyle had planned an air of 
nonchalance, a composed but distant tolerance of what might befall. There was also the need 
of caution. From behind this self imposed mask of a false indifference, she hoped to observe 
and to enjoy.

The pubescent regard was daunting. It was far too wise for comfort. The quartette of ten 
to twelve year olds had about them a ripeness, a libido beyond their age. They were frankly 
assessing her with interest. An examination Philippa returned in puzzlement. Each moppet was
neatly clad in an identical tunic, evidently a required dress. It was scanty, its tiny skirt scarcely 
managing to protect the small nude pudendum forever on the verge of exposure. The feet 
and legs were bare. Slender ankles were joined by fifteen inches of metal links from shining 
anklets which the youngsters wore with the unconscious ease of long usage. If one of them 
tripped on her chain it evoked neither notice or comment. They could walk but certainly not 
run.

"I don't suppose they'll leave her like this all day." Said one.

"After Class she'll likely be gone. We'd best take her tunic now and have a decent look."

"She's way over twenty, I bet. One of that New Group. C'mon, let's see if her cunt and 
boobs are much bigger than ours."

Philippa realised the only difference between her tunic and theirs was that hers was bigger.
It was fully as inadequate. She felt certain that, with her arms stretched so high, her pubic hair 
was probably doing a peep show down below. Still striving for nonchalance, she suggested: "If
you want to see my pussy, all you have to do is lift my tunic. There's no need to take it off."

They vouchsafed brief blank stares. She was a talking exhibit. One of them lifted her skirt.

"Wow, look at that hair!"

"Feel her. She's big and soft--there's a mound... "Mmmmmm, I can't wait. All I've got's a bit
of floss."

"Take off her tunic. It's the same as ours."

Two zippers screeched, leaving her nude. The trifling garments were evidently designed for
girls likely to be bound. Philippa Coyle felt herself scorched by childish lechery. She could not 
move.

"She'd like to get loose. Lovely the way Miss Royd's got her stretched. Shows everything, 
even between her legs."

"But just look at her breasts! Zowie, if we had boobs like that!"

Miss Philippa Coyle studiously surveyed the far wall of an uninspiring room while the 
secret places of her body were cupped and probed and tweaked. She could make no motion 
of protest. She wore broad leather wristlets which were tethered to a bar above, far, far apart. 
Her ankles were similarly attached to rings in the floor. She stood, a perfect naked 'X,' for the 
inspection of anyone interested. She had stood thus for a considerable time. The moppets, 
had their hands been gentle, would have made an amusing diversion. But their absorption 
with her female sexuality made her long to knock their heads together.

"Think they'll whip her the first day?"

"Depends on her file, doesn't it?"

"Gosh, I wonder how anyone managed to make a girl her age come here!"

"Maybe her other choice was to go to prison. Remember Phoebe."

"Probably no big deal. Likely as not she's the same as us. Came here because she wants to.
I've discovered a girl can commit herself so long as she's over twenty-one."

"Gollies! My term ends when I'm eighteen. That's a long while to have to wait."

There was a self satisfied giggle. "I'm here 'till I'm twenty-five. Then if I commit myself-"

"She's not gagged. Wonder why she doesn't speak. If we had the time I'd hurt her 'till she 
howled."

"We'd better run. It's Class time."

The cruel little hands fell away from Miss Philippa Coyle's nakedness. Her tunic was zipped 
back on with the same facility as when removed. The eldest of the girls said, in sudden 
warmth: "Don't feel badly. I expect it's your initiation. Unless you're going to be whipped, I 
expect you'll be untied before too long. You're terribly stretched out. But you really are lovely...
really yummy."

The clinking departure of the moppets left a bare silence in the stark room. Lippa watched 
them go in wonder. She was aware of a spreading loneliness and a longing for Dree. She also 
wished she could move beyond the trembling of muscles and tendons against the straps. For 
an initiation, her bondage seemed unkindly stringent. Perhaps her age... or had someone 
smelt a rat! She looked up and down at the manner of her binding. She was foxed for sure.

Miss Helen Royd was thirty. She was the games Mistress and general confidant of the 
Aylebury girls. Her figure was athletic, her hair the tawny color of a lion's mane. She adored 
females, but saw men as something abstract to be treated politely. She possessed a shrewd 
and discerning eye, and thus was elected as a welcoming committee of one in the 
indoctrination of new recruits. Jessica Kilroy's ivory tower was achieved only by the delinquent,
the very wealthy, or the unusually erotic. You mounted the steps to its rare altitude in fear and 
trembling.

Helen Royd docketed the ill assorted pair in swift assessment. The youngster would be 
impertinent, rebellious, and inclined to ill timed humour. If firmly dealt with she would give no 
trouble. Some good tight ropes... ! But the older girl was hard to place. Embarrassment was 
understandable at twenty-six. Motive was the key. The initiation would reveal its hiding place. 
That first interview... ! It was always illuminating.

Philippa Coyle viewed the brisk entry of the Games Mistress with mixed feelings. She 
hoped she would be freed but did not really expect it to happen. She saw Miss Royd as a 
formidable authority of the wrong age. She would have felt easier with a younger girl or an 
older woman. The moppets had left her with a nagging apprehension of being whipped. But 
surely not this first day... !

"Ah, I see you're nicely settled." Miss Royd surveyed the female 'X' with satisfaction. "Had 
no luck getting loose, eh?"

"I'd be grateful to be untied, Miss Royd. This is terribly uncomfortable. There's quite a bit 
of pain "

"Yes, of course. You won't be. Not now. Why did you come here? I mean, at your age...?"

It was easy to blush, less easy to wriggle. Lippa did both. "Isn't the information all in my 
file? We tried to be terribly frank."

"I want to hear it from you."

"W-E-L-L-L-L-, my family... You know families."

"Do I! Continue."

"I'm a lesbian!" Lippa ejected the word as a domestic explosive. "They don't like it."

"Are you here to indulge this need or to be punished for it?" Helen Royd managed a 
companionable grin. "We do not advertise a cure for a couple of girls amusing themselves in 
bed."

"I'm afraid it's to be punished. They think that if you're severe enough with me I'll be cured
automatically."

"Ridiculous! There must be more?"

. . Yes there is." Again the spreadeagled girl contrived an explosive confession. "I wouldn't 
have come--I mean, committed myself, if you hadn't been entirely female. And... and I've 
always had a secret longing to be--constrained."

"You mean bound?"

"Yes. I suppose like I am now. Except this seems awfully extreme."

"Hmmmmmm and discipline?"

"That too." Lippa's embarrassment was genuine enough. "Is it terribly silly to have fantasies
about being whipped or fastened on a Rack all such things?"

"Goodness no! Most girls have them. But mostly it's rape: which is simply wishful thinking. 
Silly bitches! By the way, have you ever been whipped?"

"Not quite the way you'd do it, Miss Royd. When I was thinking of coming here I paid a girl
to whip me. I felt I had to know... ! I think some of the marks are still on my skin."

"What did you have to know?"

"Whether I could bear it. Or if it was just too damn much."

Helen Royd smiled as at a memory. "What did you discover?"

"Well, it's sort of silly really. While I was whipped I was tied so I couldn't make a fuss. So 
there was nothing I could do about it anyway. I'd have stopped it if I could, but I couldn't. So 
that was that. When it was over I discovered the pain didn't go on and on, just a tenderness. 
So there was nothing to be tragic about. Only a mixture of pride and relief."

"Mummmmmuh, let's have a look." Helen Royd strode forward and stripped the zippers. 
"O.K., so you were whipped. I've seen better marks but I expect they hurt a bit." She stepped 
back to view, walking a slow circle. "I suppose you know you're a luscious piece of female?"

"Yes. I know."

Miss Royd chuckled. "You do, don't you!" This time her hand cupped forcibly between 
Lippa's spread thighs. "Yes. You're responsive, damned responsive." She wiped her wet palm 
thoughtfully on Lippa's tunic. "D'you know that little trick who came in with you on the train?"

It was the first real lie. Lippa did her best with it. "No. We just arrived together. Poor girl. I 
think she was nervous. Have you got her fixed like this somewhere?"

"None of your business. But no, I tuniced and handcuffed her and let her go with the girls. 
She's probably in Class and palpitating from the shocking lies they'll feed her. New girls are 
fair game."

The nakedly spread girl hoped her relief did not show. Timidly, she returned to her own 
discomfort. "This really is hurting. Would it be possible-?"

"No it would not! Ask once more and I'll whip you. You're a big girl and should be able to 
handle it."

Lippa was thankful for the leather bands. Had it been rope deep in her wrists and ankles 
she would have been in agony. Sulkily, she said: "Yes, I'll try and handle it and not complain. Is 
the, the whole curriculum this strict for girls my age?"

"Want to go home?"

"... No."

Helen Royd laughed. "Not too sure, are you! Look, dear, the next thing is to decide what 
you'll do with your time. Any ideas?"

"I didn't think I was allowed ideas. I thought I came, and things happened to me?"

"We could leave it at that. I'd make sure the things happened. But would you like to study?
This is a school--"

"Goodness no!"

"O.K. So you're educated. Want to be tied up full time?"

"I--I suppose so. I really don't know."

"Bothered by the family thing? Feel you should do a penance?"

"Sort of. I think they expect it."

"No doubt about where they think your sin is, I suppose?"

"None. It's between my legs."

"O.K. then! Once a week I'll whip your pretty pudendum because its been naughty. How's 
that grab you?"

It grabbed hard. Philippa Coyle wished she had been less enterprising. She looked at the 
Games Mistress askance. "Must you... ? Isn't that a bit much?"

"Oh don't worry." Helen Royd was amused by her captive's obvious distress. "I use a 
special whip. Vulvas thrive under its friction." She grinned confidingly. "You'd be surprised by 
the number of naughty pussies sent to this school. I had the whip specially made so their 
punishment could fit their crime."

The stretched student swallowed hard. Maybe she was being spoofed, but she did not 
think so. There clung about Helen Royd an aura of sincerity. Philippa sought compromise: "I 
don't think I want to be punished all round the clock."

"You're quite innocent, aren't you." Helen Royd's eye was shrewd. "What you need is a 
Mistress. D'you realise you've found one?"

Philippa Coyle knew it was absurd. It was outrageous. She was ashamed. But Helen Royd's 
quiet statement sent her pulse to thudding and a surge of carnal excitation to every fiber of 
her being. She could not move. She stood nakedly exposed to the watching woman. But, 
instinctively, she hung her head to hide her blush and the tell-tale admission of her eyes. She 
began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Well, well...!" Helen's gaze softened. Without haste, her fingers tilted up the shamed chin 
so that she and the bound girl stared face to face. "You poor kid. Have you had some sort of a
bad time?"

Philippa Coyle wept. She did not know why. Like all the rest of the past hours and days her
tears were illogical. She sobbed denial: "No--Oh, no! I'm really very lucky. Miss Royd, I'm so 
sorry, so ashamed."

"What of?"

"That's why I'm crying. I don't know what of. I don't know anything. I keep finding out 
things about myself that are scary. I mean... I never knew... about... about what you just said. 
But when you said it I knew instantly it was true. I've never been more sure of anything. But 
why didn't I know! To wait all these years to find out-And now look at me!"

"You look delightful."

"Tears! All weepy... And I expect I'm wet."

"I'll dry your pubic hair along with the rest." Helen said matter-of-factly. Look, dear, no 
more questions. I expect I can guess well enough. But I'm your Mistress now. I'll do what I like 
with you."

"Yes, oh yes!"

"Sometimes I'll be cruel."

"Of course, I don't mind."

"My, my, child! I haven't discovered you a moment too soon."

"Don't untie me--ever!"

"Now you are being silly. You're emotionally overtaxed." Helen Royd applied herself to the 
drying of secretions. "There are two ways I can effect a quick cure. One is to whip you good. 
The other is to make love. Either one would cheer you up no end. But I don't have the time. I 
actually dropped in for a quick chat before I left you there for the day--"

"Leave me like this. I don't mind." Lippa was bathing herself in the waters of mortification.

"Quiet, girl! That bit of nonsense was pure self indulgence. What I'm going to do is untie 
you and let you have the run of the school for a few hours. You can't escape."

"You mean free? Really free?"

"Mmmmm, just these. Most of the girls wear them."

Lippa found herself viewing the ankle shackles with delight. They were beautifully made. 
Heavy as they might be, they held a hint of the feminine in their silver gleam. It was 
comforting to be relieved of the leather bands and to be able to join her legs. Their stretch 
had been acute. Now, one at a time, she offered her feet for the metal circlets and their links 
by which her enrollment at Aylebury Court was made final. She was still trembling but did not 
care.

Helen Royd busied herself with the freeing of the raised arms. "Watch the walking." She 
advised. "Don't get over confident. It's possible to take a nasty tumble over chained feet."

"They're beautiful-The chains, I mean." Lippa wanted to say 'thank you' but was too shy.

"They are. And they keep you from running. You can't even take a full walking stride. It's 
the swirling chain as much as anything that foxes you. They also keep you erotically aware of 
yourself."

"You mean--?"

"Of course. You're tremendously responsive. If you find the agony more than you can bear,
you'll probably be able to get some helpful girl...!" Helen Royd laughed. "Don't look so 
shocked. We don't punish girls here for acting like girls. Look now, I absolutely must run."

"But what do I do-?"

Lippa's bewildered question fell in empty air. She was alone.

The first thing she did was clatter round the room. On a bare floor her chains were noisy. 
Even on a rug they made their presence known. It would be a long while before she wore 
them unconsciously. They snubbed each step she took.

Her second act was to pick up the discarded tunic. She felt little inclination to wear it but 
supposed she must. A school full of naked females seemed unlikely. She struggled into the 
tiny thing and zipped it fast. It was a little girlie garb and far too small. Glimpses of her pubic 
hair would show as she walked. Her nipples bid fair to thrust themselves through the fabric. 
Her breasts were more obvious than if bare. Lippa shrugged resignedly and strode for the 
door. It was her first fall. Picking herself up, she kicked at the tether between her feet, the 
chain swirled. Bending down, she examined her hobbles and the smooth, scarcely noticeable, 
swell of the lock by which they prisoned her ankles. Her fingers caressed the chased wrought 
silver which, for all she knew, would stay to inhibit her movements for a long, long time. It was
as Helen Royd had promised: the chain seemed a living entity holding her captive. A surge of 
libidinousness within her loins was her acknowledgement. In cautious carnality Lippa resumed 
her walk.

Aylebury was a world of its own. Serenely ancient, beautiful, richly modernized. But a world
where a basic human premise was in reverse. Except for the faculty, freedom was a naughty 
word. It was, in fact, a condition not to be desired. Freedom was never mentioned. It did not 
exist. Philippa Coyle clinked her fettered steps in wonder as she explored this vast asset which 
she and Dree owned but in which they were now both captive. Her aunt's concept had been 
staggering. Yet it was shrewdly simple. Within its atmosphere the chained niece was 
breathless. Uselessly tugging down her little girl skirt to hide her pubes, she met the smiling 
acknowledgements of those she passed. Her presence surprised none, few paused in their 
mission. Each girl was chained as she was chained, their progress distinctly metallic. Some 
were handcuffed or had their wrists tied behind their back. They ran from ten on through the 
teens, some were naked. Lippa noted one thing they had in common, an unusual quality of 
serenity reflecting content.

Philippa was thrilled by the collars. Not all the girls wore them. They were of bronze and 
were locked upon slender throats by an ostentatious padlock. Some positioned it in front like 
a pendant. The ensemble was heavy and implacable, yet the effect was still feminine. It was 
hard to guess whether they were punishment or reward. Lippa longed to try one on. Their 
practical utility was demonstrated by a nude teenager who lounged, standing, against a pillar. 
As Lippa approached, she was able to see the short length of heavy chain from the padlock at 
the collar to the ring in the stone. The girl could go nowhere. Intrigued, she stopped to look 
and to speak. But it was the prisoner of the pillar who spoke first.

"Gorgeous, isn't it."

"Yes. I've never seen anything quite like it, or the way you wear it." Lippa grinned. "Maybe 
it's you that's gorgeous."

"Oh, I'm nice." The girl conceded without modesty. "But it's my collar that caught your eye.
You're either a new girl or a teacher who's testing out the rules." She tittered. "You can't walk 
in those chains worth a darn."

Miss Philippa Coyle grinned ruefully. "I'm a new girl." She admitted bashfully. "I expect I 
seem a bit old?"

The chained teen laughed in sophisticated amusement. "Gosh, no! Seems like when us 
girls get let loose we've got a problem. The idiots out and around think we're nuts. No way 
they're going to tie a knot or click a cuff. I'm going to get booted out of here when I'm 
twenty, and as far as I can see I'll have the choice of giving myself to some man so he can stick
his cock in me, or returning here and beating on the door to get back in."

"But the Aylebury associations? Don't you keep-" The girl changed posture, her chains 
responding as though a part of her nakedness. "That's chancey. Anyway, I've got five years to 
go, and I've been told of a solution." She chuckled. "It's movie stuff, but it's ever so easy for a 
girl to sell herself to one of those middle East chappies with pots of gold."

Philippa wrinkled her nose. "But you'd be owned by a man!"

"So what! He'd be giving me something I have to have in return for what I'd be compelled 
to do for him. If a woman bought me it would be super."

"Ugh!" Lippa shook herself in disgust. "Don't do that. Visit me instead." She cocked an 
amused eye. "I expect I'll be turned loose before then. "But, tell me... The bronze collars?"

"Scholastic achievement in Class!" The girl snickered. "You have to swat like crazy to get 
one. But then its locked on you for keeps. After you've been proud of it for about a week 
you'd give anything to get rid of it. They're not exactly featherweight, y'know."

"They're so lovely-"

"They're so damn convenient for the Mistresses." The youthful chuckle was rueful. "A 
collared girl can be attached all over the place: there's rings, and the Mistresses have keys. 
Miss Levinson locked me here this morning "But why?"

"She says I've a gift for leaning against pillars. After I get real tired later on she's going to 
take a picture."

"But that's... ! It's not fair!"

"Don't feel deprived. If you can find her I'm sure she'll fasten you some way for the day."

The teenage voice was deadly serious. It held no hint of irony or sarcasm. It was being 
helpful in a matter it well understood.

Continuing her bizarre excursion, Miss Philippa Coyle's fettered feet led her to an 
inevitable door. It was ajar. Within was a class in session. Compelled by a strange loneliness 
she clinked her way inside. Then stood, ashamed and embarrassed by her intrusion.

Miss Royd had been blonde. Heather Prowse was brunette. Apart from that there was a 
similarity. Either her Aunt or Jessica Kilroy evidently preferred youth in authority. Lippa judged 
this girl smiling at her in welcome as not much older than herself.

"You're Lippa, aren't you?" The handshake was pleasantly sincere.

"Yes--I'm awfully sorry--"

"Don't be. It's what we want. Take a desk and watch."

The variously aged Class accepted her without much interest. Casual glances, a grin or two,
a swift appraisal of her chained feet. The desk was a tight squeeze. Lippa inserted herself and 
sat like a small girl, blushing.

Miss Prowse taught with expertise. The industry of her girls was explained by swift 
punishment for error. Lippa was impressed.

"Amy! You are not listening. Come here please."

A shamed child clinked her way to the front of The Class. As though automatically 
condemned, she removed her tunic, placed it on a hook, then stood in impudent nudity to 
receive her sentence. Miss Prowse disposed of her with brisk decision, wasting no time. She 
crossed the small arms behind the innocent back and corded them tight. Lippa winced as she 
watched the strands bite deep. Amy was now quietly shedding tears as she was propelled by 
gentle hands to the wall and thrust in to face a corner. The business of the day resumed.

As she merged into the scenery Lippa felt more at ease. Amy had made a diversion. 
Looking at the white back and tied wrists brought her a surge of concupiscent pleasure 
accompanied by a twinge of guilt which she repulsed by a realisation that the pleasure was 
shared by all present, perhaps even by Amy herself. Though she shrewdly guessed that 
Aylebury dispensed discipline by the medium of shame and ridicule. She herself would find 
small joy in standing naked in a corner to stare at a wall while twenty girls quietly snickered.

However, the principle of pain in punishment was not ignored. Aylebury was evidently 
aware that, no matter how heated the moist young thighs might become before and after, the
actual whipping of a girl's bare skin was never pleasurable while thong bit and the stripes rose
red and purple on female flesh.

This time the delinquent was in her mid teens. Her stumbling guesswork and evasions 
revealed sloth. Her journey to the front of the Class earned her commiserating glances from 
either side. She was pert and pretty and handcuffed. She waited for the order before placing 
her tunic on the hook and then standing in naked expectancy for what must ensue.

"The third time this week, Prue. I have been too lenient."

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Prowse. I promise I'll try. Please don't punish me."

"Give me a reason I should not punish you, dear."

There was an awkward silence. Chained feet shuffled. "I-I- don't like being punished, Miss 
Prowse. I'll cry."

"I am awaiting a good reason, Prue?"

"What I mean, Miss Prowse, is I can't stand pain the way some girls do. I love my chains 
but not--not the other things."

"Are you asking me to inflict something you enjoy?"

Prue knew herself trapped. Bravely, she fought a rearguard action. "Please, Miss Prowse, 
couldn't you tie me in some horrid way I won't enjoy--like tying my elbows together tight? I 
don't like that even a little bit."

"I suspect you enjoy any form of bondage, dear. I intend to cane your bottom instead."





Tears welled. Prue fell, abjectly, to her knees in supplication. "Please don't, Miss Prowse, 
she wailed in evident anguish. It hurts something awful. I can't bear it."

"We will help you bear it, Prue, by securing you firmly for your punishment. I am sure you 
will gain some small pleasure--"

"I won't! Oh, I won't... ! Oooooooh... "

"You will now fetch me the cane, dear, and you will arrange the table." Heather Prowse's 
order was soft but implacably firm. It made Philippa Coyle shiver.

Sobbing in resignation, a woeful Prue revealed an old familiarity with her task. She kissed 
the long slender cane before handing it to the waiting hand, and then drew a small 
rectangular table to where it could best be viewed by all. She paused then to bestow one 
more imploring look... ! Receiving no response, she climbed aboard her perch of penitence.

It was very simple. The straps were already in place. The naked moppet knelt forward and 
placed the full length of her forearms on the oak surface. Miss Prowse instantly buckled 
leather bands on wrists and elbows, the small hands perhaps a foot apart. Prue's pretty little 
posterior protruded itself towards The Class in a shrinking defiance against their absorbed 
attention.

"Please, Miss Prowse... Not those others. Prue was peeping back in acute apprehension.

"Don't be silly, dear. We can't have you flopping around like a gaffed fish. You ought to be 
grateful."

"Oh, I am, Miss Prowse! I don't mind being strapped up tight 'cept it makes the cane hurt 
me so much more."

"Exactly, dear."

Watching the tableau, Miss Philippa Coyle again felt guilt. She was breathing heavily and 
the fire between her thighs was a fervid tribute to strap and cane and the lubricity of the 
participants. Breathlessly, she awaited teenage screams. She was mentally placing herself in 
Prue's plight and shrinking from the cut of cane upon girl skin so tightly stretched.

Delinquent knees were separated just enough to allow The Class a vision of Prue's 
immature pudendum. Then they were thrust forward to meet the already fastened elbows. 
Straps sought their hollows and were made fast. Prue sobbed in moaning disquiet, a pathetic 
little sound that rose in frightened protest as a strap was carefully adjusted across the small of 
her back and drawn tight. Little by little her tiny waist was compressed down and down to 
arch the young girl's back into a delicious bow. When Miss Prowse decisively buckled the 
bond that portion of Prue to be punished reared itself in a tautly stretched isolation almost 
unbelievable. The adolescent cunt was now impelled from its secret crease into a shaming 
rearward exposure.

"Miss Prowse, I don't think... I don't think I'm--Oh gollies! I don't think I'm quite 
respectable behind."

"The condition is temporary, Prue dear. Do try and be brave."

"I can't be brave. It hurts too much.

"Please don't be absurd. I haven't touched you yet."

"No, but you're going to."

Heather Prowse disdained response. Taking the cane she flexed it suggestively and 
swished it in the air a couple of times, her attention more upon the watching girls than on the 
wide eyed nymphet strapped to the table. "I want you to pay strict attention." She told them 
evenly. "I am about to give Prue ten strokes with this cane. They will be severe--"

"Not ten! Oh, please not ten. I can't possibly bear ten, Miss Prowse." The young 
immobilised nude was frantic in her appeal.

"You are going to bear them, Prue. You have no choice."

"But not severe--please not that hard--" The adolescent plea was cut short by the whirr of 
the limber wand. Heather Prowse exhibited a fine co-ordination and follow through. Her arm 
was vigorous. The cane bedded itself momentarily in girlish flesh before it fell away to reveal 
the line of bruised skin which would soon become a multi coloured weal. Prue's shocked 
scream filled the room with the decibels of anguish.

Watching the rise of the angry welt across Prue's bottom Miss Philippa Coyle climaxed in a
blossoming orgasm of which she was thoroughly ashamed. No one noticed her spasms.

The caned girl became vividly vocal. Her distress was acute. Every part of her did battle 
with the straps but failed to move. "I'll die! It's too awful. You'll kill me. Oooooh!"

"Would you like to be gagged, dear?"

"Nooooh, oh nooooo!"

"It would save you shaming yourself, Prue?"

"That cane will cut my cunt--I know it will. Ohhhh!"

"The gag, dear?" Heather Prowse's reminder was gentle menace.

"No gag--No gag! Ohhhhh, I'd go crazy."

"A gag might save you from saying something rude which could earn you more strokes 
than the ten you are in the process of receiving, dear. Are you quite sure...?" With deliberate 
cruelty the Mistress administered an even more savage stroke across the full expanse of Prue's
pretty curves.

"You rotten bitch! Oh, damn you! Yahhhhh!" The youngster's control vanished against 
agony.

The Class was breathless but enchanted. Miss Prowse quietly waited until poor Prue's 
vocals had diminished to apprehensive moans. "Two extra strokes, dear. A total of twelve--"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Ohhhh--Forgive me. It hurts so awful."

"You are forgiven, dear. But to make sure you are sorry I will make the total thirteen."

The girl postured by straps upon the table fought uselessly against the restraints which 
exposed so cruelly that part of her the cane would wound. In low key she keened her anguish 
while Heather Prowse turned her attention to The Class.

"Hands upon desks! Instantly now." Her keen eye scanned shamefaced girls. "I'll not have 
you playing with yourselves in Class, not for any reason." She smiled demurely. "I'll have you 
know that I'm as aroused as any of you. But there are times and places...!" Her focus swivelled. 
"That applies to you too, Lippa."

Lippa blushed. She was sure her face had revealed her lascivious enthrallment. Prue's pert 
bottom emblazoned by its two scarlet striations was the most exciting thing she had ever 
seen. Its pain was as much an anguish to the libido as to the delinquent flesh. The twenty-six 
year old young woman placed her hands passively on the desk surface and resumed attention.

The snicker of the cane in the hush was electric, as was the slow formation of the puffed 
ridge of skin marking its contact with Prue's epidermis. The Class sighed. Prue screamed. But 
as her involuntary sounds subsided they merged into her admission of total defeat. "The gag, 
Miss Prowse-Oh, I'm so sorry--That awful cane!"

"You wish me to gag you, Prue dear?"

"Oh shit--Oh dear! Oh it hurts so much--and I'm sure you'll cane my cunt. Yes please, the 
gag. Oh... Miss Prowse, can't you forgive me, please? I'll be ever so good." Miss Prowse's 
selection of a gag was unique. But it was understood. She produced a male sized handkerchief
with which she proceeded to dry any secretions produced by Prue's very visible sex. 
Dissatisfied with the result, she handed the white square to the closest girl who gleefully made
good use of it and passed it on. Lippa watched the linen's soggy progress from desk to desk. 
When it reached her own she mechanically did what she must. She was nervous of touching 
herself down there for fear of what friction might trigger. She passed the damp and pungent 
wad on with relief, thankful it was not in her mouth it would be bound.

Prue took no pleasure in these feminine contributions. Straining, she had looked back and 
seen enough to evoke one more plaintive wail: "I won't! I absolutely won't! Not in my mouth. I
don't want everybody's pussy pee rammed down my throat-"

"Prue!" Miss Prowse's exclamation was outraged.

"Well it's not fair." The young protest was tearfully sulky. "I bet that horrid thing's sopping 
with girl juice I wouldn't mind my own so much. But "

"Prue!"

"I will! I will!" The teenage tone was vehement in assent. Prue had scented further stripes. 
"Shall I open my mouth?"

It was impossible! Surely it could not be! Miss Philippa Coyle replaced shame with clinical 
amazement. Tomorrow she could be amused or ashamed, but at the moment the relentless 
tide of female lust possessed her utterly. She clenched her firsts upon the desk as the first 
overtones of climax seethed within her loins. Fascinated, she watched the potently scented 
wad inserted in the young, and fearfully willing, mouth, and its binding there by a strap 
between unwilling teeth, the buckle of which was tugged tight at the nape of the delinquent's 
neck by Heather Prowse's capable fingers. As Prue's head sunk in silent resignation upon her 
strapped forearms Lippa's second orgasm within the hour rent and tore at her in a crescendo 
of joyous lechery.

"I want you to realise any one of you could be on this table." Miss Prowse's tone was bland
as her cool gaze scanned her audience and lingered on a moist and hastily composed Lippa. 
"There are a couple among you who envy Prue her punishment. I am aware of them. But for 
the most of you my cane can be as painful as it is for this foolish girl. Bear it in mind."

The cane in question sped to its task. The swift sure arm of Heather Prowse rapped the 
sacrificial flesh with its tip in shrewd measurement of each stroke. Six fearful lashes in quick 
succession beat upon the buckled nudity with slashing impacts that brought gasps of 
sympathy or of uncontrollable tumescence from female throats. The bottom receiving the 
stripes did not move. It was held immovable by the strap cinching down the slender waist. It 
acknowledged its punishment by a visual testimony of crimson bands of fire arising side by 
side upon the stretched skin.

Prue's agony must have been intense. She evidenced it in the only ways she could. Her 
head reared and was flung from side to side, the eyes wide in silent appeal. Her fingers clawed
the oak. Her feet sought to beat a tattoo of dire distress. They were free from the knee 
hollows down. But there the straps were so tightly buckled that all she could achieve was an 
agonized wrinkling of her toes and small sad little motions of her feet. When a girl was bound 
by Heather Prowse she was bound indeed. Everyone in the room, with the possible exception 
of Prue herself, was thankful for the secretion saturated gag which kept her mute.

By the time Prue's caning was completed Philippa felt exhausted by the child's pain. She 
had shared each stroke. When the straps were unbuckled and the punished youngster guided 
from the table by gentle hands she longed to do as did the girl: stretch painfully, massage the 
indentations of the straps and, most tentatively feel back with questing fingers to explore the 
furrows and the ridges imprinted on her bottom by the cane. By the time poor Prue had once 
more kissed the cane and said a fervent Thank you, Miss Prowse' the welling tide of climax 
was threatening again. She repulsed it by amusedly watching other girls cope with the same 
turgid arousal of their senses. As Prue donned her tunic and returned to her now painful seat 
the pungency of female musk was potent in the room.

What happened then was a shocker.

"We have just watched a young woman receive punishment. We have heard her plaints 
and pleas." Miss Prowse's address was carefully modulated as her inspection roved the room. 
"I was not satisfied with Prue's approach to her just penance. This tendency to quibble, 
question and complain is far too prevalent among you girls. You should know by now that a 
silently respectful acceptance of justice is in your own interest."

The room was breathless, mute in expectation. Something was about to happen.

"I would like you to witness a demonstration of decorum and gratitude proper in a 
delinquent girl. Lippa, will you come forward please?"

It was like a blow. It was a betrayal .by someone she did not even know. But Heather 
Prowse was smiling warmly as though the two of them had rehearsed the play. Hypnotised by 
an authority she did not wish to dispute, Miss Philippa Coyle clinked her chained feet to centre
stage. Intrigued and entranced, twenty female adolescents watched her progress with bated 
breath.

By an inclination of the Mistress's head, Lippa realised she was being invited to render 
herself nude. As in a trance, she used the zippers and hung her pathetic tunic on the waiting 
hook. Naked, she faced the Class.

"None of you know this young woman." Miss Prowse said briskly. "But you will note from 
her growth of pubic hair and the development of her breasts that she has reached maturity. I 
am sure she will be glad to give you evidence of the common sense which all of you, under 
proper guidance, may hope to achieve."

The hush was pregnant. The naked Lippa felt her breasts and loins scorched by the 
concentrated interest of twenty girls. Even Prue stopped sobbing to bestow her own rapt 
attention. Out of the corner of her mouth Lippa contrived a desperate whisper to the woman 
at her side: "I'm not experienced. I don't know a thing. I may not be any good." Heather 
Prowse was equal to any contretemps. Radiating an arch confidence, she cheerfully informed: 
"Lippa has just whispered to me that her hands have been caned many times. She expects to 
acquit herself well for your edification. I think it is very sweet of her."

The Class clapped.

"I will give her one hard stroke on each hand. Since she is without guilt we can hardly 
expect her to accept more." Miss Prowse radiated benevolence.

Lippa was nonplussed. Her instinct was to mow this precocious female down with a few 
crisp words. But the words would not come. It was as though she and the Mistress were old 
friends who could be trusted not to let each other down. Heather was regarding her now with 
a glowing regard it was impossible to refute. Was it a kind of hypnotism, the overpowering 
compulsion of a strong personality! Lippa did not know. But she did know herself trapped. For
better or for worse, she was about to play a game for which Heather wrote the rules. With 
equal aplomb, she asked sweetly: "How would you like me to position myself, Miss Prowse?"

"Since you are a big girl I think it might be nice for you to kneel, facing The Class, before 
extending your hand, dear."

Carefully choosing the most exposed section of the floor, Lippa lowered herself to her 
knees, watchfully avoiding a tangle of toes with the chain joining her feet. If she was to indeed
play the role Miss Prowse had chosen for her she had best do it with grace. Cringingly, she 
conceded the practicality of getting her arms to a lower level. The swinging arc of the cane 
would find her open palm with far greater accuracy and force. She longed to leap for the 
door.

Instead, she asked meekly: "Should I kneel upright or sit back on my heels, Miss Prowse?"

"Upright, please. That will place your hands at an excellent level. Have you something to 
say to me dear?"

Had she! For a moment Lippa was at a loss. But comprehension dawned. "Just to ask you 
to please cane the palms of my hands, Miss Prowse, and to say thank you for this trouble I'm 
putting you to."

An audible gasp was expelled from twenty female lips. Lippa felt absurdly proud.

"It is not a trouble, it is a pleasure, dear." Triumphantly the Mistress faced her charges. "You
are now beginning to understand what I expect of you." She said evenly. "We are all indebted 
to this young woman who is being so kind."

Lippa knew herself under a spell. Part of it came from the woman with the cane, but part 
was of herself. She would not be kneeling thus to suffer pain had not Heather Prowse 
detected in her some quality of submission. She could almost hear Dree laughing in the wings.

"You may extend either arm, dear. The palm taut."

This was it! The kneeling girl knew not how she would react. The pain would be 
excruciating, far beyond the schoolroom penalty of long ago. In instant obedience she thrust 
out her arm, smiled up in gratitude and sweetly enquired: "Is there any particular ritual you 
would like me to follow, Miss Prowse?"

"Just a respectful acceptance, Lippa. No gymnastics."

Miss Philippa Coyle held her arm rigid, tensioned a flat palm, and clenched her teeth. The 
watching faces became a blur. Nothing had identity except her waiting hand. The cane tapped
it testingly.

The agony was exquisite. Shocking enough to momentarily inhibit. As the waves of it 
spread and possessed the punished girl she seized the vital instant to be and to do the thing 
she most wanted. So they should not betray her she closed her eyes and moulded her 
features in serenity. By a vast effort of will she divorced her hand with its screaming, throbbing
demand to be comforted and nursed, and allowed it to fall slowly to her side. She willed it to 
stay there, wondering how any hand could hurt so much. From far away she heard her own 
voice, brightly helpful: "Thank you, Miss Prowse. That was wonderful. It hurts terribly." Without
prompting, Miss Philippa Coyle raised her other arm.

She had borne it once. She could bear it twice. But had her sentence been more than two 
strokes she would have grovelled abjectly on the floor and pleaded for mercy just as Prue had 
done. Lippa was sure of it. But as she knelt with both hands wounded and agonized there 
arose within her consciousness a vast relief and an equal measure of pride. It had been an 
appalling test and she was winning. Once more her thanks seemed from the heart. "You cane 
so beautifully, Miss Prowse." Still under the spell of a magic she only half understood she 
bathed The Class in a radiant smile and told them, reprovingly: "You're all so lucky to have 
Miss Prowse to punish you."

The Class clapped. This time in awe.

"Thank you, Lippa. Let me help you to your feet."

A girl's hand on a girl's bare arm! It sent waves of desire into every crevice of the girl with 
wounded hands. Within Heather Prowse there was a cauldron of femaleness affecting all who 
came within her reach. Its heat was potent in the eyes, the full red lips, the heaving breasts. 
Meeting the Mistress's intent regard Lippa knew there was now a link between them, a bond 
forged securely by the pain she had borne. She had been tested and not found wanting. 
Under the compulsion of this turgid sexuality Miss Philippa Coyle found herself demurely 
asking: "Is there anything else you would like me to do for you and the girls, Miss Prowse?"

It was neither challenge or surrender. It was a giving of herself, an immolation. Heather 
Prowse's smile was for Lippa alone. It was infinitely understanding and infinitely wise. The 
bond between her and this femaleness that had become her slave was almost tangible. She 
gently kissed the subservient lips and casually suggested: "Why yes, dear. I'm sure you could 
improve on Prue's performance on the table. Would you care to?"

Ridiculously joyous in her own entrapment, Lippa's response was up to the standard she 
had set. "I think that would be lovely." She enthused. "Should I get into position?"

Heather laughed. "Don't you want to know how many strokes?"

Butter would not have melted in Lippa's mouth. Her eyes glinted, her voice was dulcet: 
"That is not for me to say, Miss Prowse. I am sure you will whip me in whatever manner is 
most fitting."

Again the heat! It was flowing between them in waves. The Class was forgotten. They were 
listening, spellbound. But the two older girls who were, after all, scarcely separate in age, were 
in a world of their own. A world holding agony for one and joy for both. As Lippa climbed on 
to the table the hand on her arm was less to help than to heat. Panting, she arranged her 
nakedness in the most obscene posture of her life.

The straps were delicious. Lippa had given up pretence. She adored being bound, just as 
did Dree. Why prevaricate! She made whatever small motions were necessary to enable the 
Mistress to loop and buckle her limbs. Soon Lippa could move no more. But she could blush. 
Miss Prowse's casual instruction caused her cheeks to flame.

"You will notice, girls, that with a mature female strapped tightly thus her vulva becomes 
much more prominent at the rear than you might expect. It is larger and has acquired a 
plumpness... Some of this young woman's excellent growth of pubic hair manifests itself."

The Mistress paused to lovingly stroke the two round, but tightly stretched, cheeks she 
was about to cane. Her voice glowed tribute: "I must say again how lucky you girls are to have 
this demonstration. Lippa is about to receive great pain on your behalf. Almost certainly her 
delightfully ripe pudendum will receive an impact or two. But they are resilient, it will not be 
damaged."

The crouched and cruelly strapped nudity on the table cursed her own folly. She had 
brought this entirely on herself. She was ashamed. The posture was outrageous. How could 
she ever look the girls in the eye after they had seen her thus! After Heather's dissertation her 
pussy felt as big as a football and frighteningly vulnerable. She had a mental vision of poor 
little Prue strapped as she was strapped. And suppose the cane cut her, not twice, but many 
times... ! Well, she was an idiot and probably deserved what she was about to get.

"Are you ready, dear?"

"Yes, Miss Prowse. This is awfully kind of you. Please cane my bottom really hard."

"I will, dear. We will do this properly. I am thinking in terms of ten strokes."

The sentence almost stopped her heart. Lippa tensed, horrified. But her voice did not 
betray her anguish. "Thank you, Miss Prowse. I think ten will be nice." As Prue had done, Lippa 
buried her face in her clamped forearms and consigned herself to agony.

"Oh, there she is! I've been looking everywhere." It was the voice of Helen Royd. She 
strode into the Classroom, a woman with a mission. "That is Lippa's rump and cunt you're 
about to cane, isn't it?"

"Yes it is." Heather sounded disgruntled. "What about it?"

"I'm afraid I need her. A previous commitment, Heather. You don't mind, do you?"

"Well... actually I do. I was about to cane her bottom."

"I noted that. What's the poor girl done?"

"Nothing. This is a volunteer demonstration."

"Oh, one of those! Look, Heather, I promised this girl--and I've set aside the time. Cane her
bottom another day. You'll all enjoy it just as much."

"But she's already nicely strapped and ready!"

"She most certainly is!" Helen Royd chuckled. "The poor dear wouldn't recognize her own 
bottom... That incredible posture!"

Lippa cocked a hopeful eye. Obviously Miss Royd outranked Miss Prowse. She offered a 
silent prayer for rescue.

"I've sentenced her to ten strokes." Miss Prowse allowed her statement to hang heavy in 
the air.

"Good heavens, and she agreed!"

"Lippa is a remarkably fine subject."

"I can see she is." Smilingly, Helen Royd surveyed the strapped nudity with grudging 
approval. Her eye lingered on the obvious. "Are you sure, Heather, you're not giving an 
illustrated lecture on postured cunts?"

"In this time we're wasting I could have given her five of her strokes." Miss Prowse pointed 
out icily. "The whole ten need not be unduly prolonged."

"Well, I suppose... ! But dammit,' Heather, I can't have her limping or saying ouch every 
time she sits down. Give her a couple of good ones and she and I can get on with our 
business."

Lippa moaned inwardly. But two was better than ten. Once again she buried her face in her
pinioned arms. She heard Heather's disgruntled "Very well then! I'll get it over quickly for you."

The cane sliced Lippa's flesh but not her resolve. In a blaze of agony she buried her face 
more deeply and took one more deep breath. She had never dreamed of such pain. No 
wonder Prue had asked for a gag! It was hard not to believe herself sliced open. But when she 
slid stiffly from the table on release she managed to smile brightly and blithely lie: "Thank you 
so much, Miss Prowse. I enjoyed those two immensely. You are so capable! Perhaps sometime 
the other eight...?"

"Go away before I fall in love with you." Said Heather Prowse.

Docilely, Lippa allowed herself to be handcuffed and led away.





CHAPTER SIX - THE TRACTIONED ARMS


"You are not a child, Adrienne. Stand properly to attention in front of my desk and stick your 
breasts out." Megan Levinson surveyed her new girl with approval. "You are a beautifully 
constructed young woman. You should never forget to protrude your breasts, even when 
being punished."

"Thank you, Miss Levinson." Dree's hands were tied behind her back, but the rest of her 
was available. She tensed her assets to the best possible advantage. "Would you like my legs 
further apart?"

"Yes, slightly. Or was that sarcasm? You have a tendency "

"Oh no, Miss Levinson, I just want to please."

Dree was enjoying Miss Levinson. She was testing provocations, mischievously playing 
with fire. Miss Levinson was said to be strict. It was thrilling to be made to stand, naked and 
tensed, before such a severe regard. The air of The Mistress's study vibrated with possibilities 
of punishment. Megan Levinson had a no nonsense voice: "We are both here, Dree, at 
Aylebury because of our need of the cord and the whip, to impose or to receive. Is that 
understood?"

"Oh yes, Miss Levinson."

"You are new, so I must draw your attention to the fine line we must constantly perceive 
between what a girl enjoys and what she does not. Those pains and constraints she dislikes 
become her punishments. Girls appear to have an endless need of punishment. They have an 
inborn insolence."

"We do, don't we!"

Miss Levinson looked up sharply. "Your manner of saying that: are you being insolent 
now?"

"Oh no, Miss Levinson. But I've often been told how difficult I am. I'm sure you'll be able to
improve me--"

"I intend to, Dree."

"Oh, thank you. I simply adore being tied up ever so tight-"

"Dree!" Miss Levinson's lips firmed. "You are quite outrageous with your sweet girlish 
innocence which, I suspect, may not be innocence at all, but pure mischief. It is not for you to 
tell me what I am going to do with you. You will be tied, or not tied, according to my 
judgement."

"I expect you'll whip me too sometimes."

"Hmmmm, that sounds very much like a request?"

"It's just that I know how us girls are, Miss Levinson. We're an awful lot of bother."

"We will minimize the bother, Adrienne. I intend to put you through an introductory 
Course during which your attitudes will enable me to assess your tolerances." Megan Levinson
smiled grimly, "And perhaps my own."

"I've been ever so well behaved."

"... Yes, I suppose you have. In an impudent manner."

"I'm a really nice girl "

"That is something I must discover for myself." Miss Levinson smiled blandly. "Now, if you 
will come with me... "

Dree cheerfully followed where she was led. She approved of Aylebury. She approved of 
her chained ankles with their tether clinking as she strove to keep abreast. She approved of 
her crossed and tied wrists behind her back. They were bound almost as well as Lippa might 
have done.

Lippa! Darling Lippa, where was she! If only they could have been captive together! But 
their ages delivered them to different Mistresses. She suspected that Miss Levinson was about 
to teach her a lesson. She was by no means sure about Miss Levinson... ! "Are you taking me 
to the torture chamber?" She enquired politely.

"Ah, the girls have told you their pet name for the Correction Room."

With bright eyed interest, Dree scanned the largish compartment. There was no rack, no 
glowing brazier with irons, no visible thumbscrews. There were, however, other things of 
which she took a quick appraisal. There was also a tenant!

"Gwenneth is one of our incorrigibles." Miss Levinson explained without censure. "I'm sorry
she won't be talking to you, but you can exchange sympathetic glances."

Gwenneth was pertly blond in her mid teens. She was naked, she was standing on tip-toe. 
Her hands were tied together and hoisted up above her head. She was gagged. She looked 
tired and wan but brightened at sight of company. She shifted weight from one foot to 
another. It was about the only movement she could make.

"It's a simple punishment." Miss Levinson commented off handedly. "But if she's left like 
that long enough she'll get to feel sorry for herself." She chuckled. "Much the same principle 
with this--" Dree's hands were forcefully thrust high behind her back. While she was still 
gasping in a forward bend to ease the strain, there came one more heave to enable a 
suspended hook to snare the rope between her wrists. Miss Levinson stepped back. "I don't 
think you can get off that hook." She said equably. "But by all means try."

"I can't even try, Miss Levinson. My arms are up too high."

"Are you complaining?"

"Oh, I wouldn't complain." Dree assured virtuously.

"It's just that I'm up on my toes and my shoulders hurt and it's hard to look at anything 
but the floor."

"Excellent!"

Dree was not sure about the excellence of her position. She suspected she had been taken
beyond the fine line The Mistress had mentioned. She abandoned a good view of her chained 
feet in order to twist uncomfortably and send the Mistress an appealing glance. "Are you 
going to leave me like this a long time, Miss Levinson?"

"That is not for you to enquire, Dree. But most certainly, yes."

"I was wondering... " Dree infused her words with all the humility she could muster. I was 
wondering if you'd approve taking away Gwenneth's gag? While we're standing... she could 
advise me about behavior?" She smiled apologetically. "I know I've got a lot to learn."

Megan Levinson took the impact of such impudence with commendable restraint. She 
drew the deep breath preparatory to blasting this snippet of a girl into her proper place. But 
she did not use it. Instead, she conceded reasonably: "You should not have asked, Dree, but 
your suggestion has merit. If I relieve Gwenneth of her gag, there should be a compensating 
penalty to balance--"

"You mean I should wear it instead?"

"Don't be absurd!" Miss Levinson produced a feline smile. "Let us ask dear Gwenneth if she
will accept a small substitution." She turned to Dree's companion in distress and asked, 
winningly: "Gwenneth dear, would you prefer the nipple clips to the gag?"

The teen-ager's face was a study. It was easy to deduce a difficult decision. Dree was not 
sure about nipple clips, but suspected they would not be fun. Contritely, she strove to amend: 
"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't know. I mean... about having to!"

"If you don't stop trying to take charge of the situation, Dree, I will gag you too."

Dree subsided. Against wracked shoulders she offered the younger girl an apologetic 
smile. It weighed the balance. Gwenneth nodded.

Dree shifted against her tether sufficiently to obtain a sideways view of Miss Levinson 
frictioning two captive nipples to ensure the young buds reaching their maximum dimension. 
As though not wishing to observe what was to be done to her the captive closed her eyes.

"Open up!" The demand was terse. "I want you to look down at your breasts and watch."

Dree watched Gwenneth. Gwenneth watched her own nipples rise and harden under the 
wise hands. Her twin gasps of shock acknowledged her new jewelry. When Miss Levinson 
stepped away from the standing nude the young breasts each wore a sparkling butterfly of 
silver and Zircons. It was as though the tiny winged creatures were feeding on the nipples they
clamped and hid. "Now I'll leave the two of you to your conversation." Said their Mistress 
brightly. With a brief nod of approval she was gone. The door closed gently.

"I'm terribly sorry." Dree said lamely.

"What, about the clips on my tits?" Gwenneth asked carelessly. "You don't have to be. My 
tits get clipped often. If I'd been here alone I'd have kept the gag. But with you to talk to the 
clips are best."

"Don't they hurt awful?"

"What doesn't! They'll burn my breasts steady all day. But I'd sooner have 'em than what 
you've got."

Dree was already having misgivings. Her shoulders complained steadily and her wrists 
burned. It was tantalising to realise she had no power to lift them off the hook. "Will it get 
more than I can bear?" She asked unhappily.

" 'Course it will, silly! That's the idea. Same with mine. After a few hours you know you're 
going to die. My wrists and toes have been calling for help for the last hour." She grinned 
shyly. "Just because you're older, don't be 'fraid to cry."

Dree deferred tears. She wanted information. "I thought Aylebury Court was for girls who 
needed to be tied, and maybe for the ones who wanted to be whipped but not too hard? But 
what's this?"

Gwenneth giggled. "We're tied, aren't we! But we're being punished too. You're getting it 
because Miss Levinson wants to test you, and I'm like this because I put the mouse in the 
teapot. So far as lessons and discipline goes, Aylebury's the same as any other school."

"Another school wouldn't have us like this."

"No. They'd have us writing five hundred lines or grounded for a month. This is much 
more exciting." The standing nude looked down at her breasts.. "Aren't they lovely? My 
butterflies, I mean. They're almost worth the pain."

"You look beautiful standing like that."

"Oh, I know! Everything a girl's got shows up so well when she's stretched a bit. I always 
get a hot pussy out of this one the first hour before I get tired. How's your puss doing with the
way you're tied?"

"It's happy right now. But I don't know if it will last an hour. I've been tied like this before 
but never for very long."

"Sometimes Levinson comes and ties my cunt. You know, the belt and the rope between 
your legs. It makes a break for a girl who has to stand here all day. Keeps your puss from 
going to sleep. Gosh, Dree, you've got a lovely shape. I bet she punishes you often."

"Even if I'm not bad?"

Gwenneth giggled again. "It does add a bit of spice, y'know."

"You're happy, aren't you?"

" 'Spose I am." Gwenneth mused reflectively. "I used to cry a lot when I was punished. I 
thought I was guilty and bad. Now I know it's all a gorgeous game."

"Don't you want to escape?"

"Only for the big hoot it'd be to get one up on Levinson."

"You mean, if you escaped you'd come back!"

"Where else would I go!" Gwenneth grimaced at an unattractive prospect. "I've been here 
since I was ten. When I go back home for a holiday I'm lost. It's such a waste of time. They 
refuse to tie me up. They won't even buy a pair of handcuffs." The teenager sniffed 
disdainfully. "And the girls I have to go around with there... ! They're a pain. All they want to 
do is whisper about some fellow pushing his prick into their cunt. Ugh!"

"Isn't a male ever allowed in here?"

"Gosh, no! Why would there be--?"

"To humiliate, or scare, or discipline? I'd wondered."

"The Mistresses would never allow it." Gwenneth said complacently. "We all belong to each
other. We all love each other. A man would be terribly unsanitary. You've never let one into 
you, have you?"

"Don't even talk about it." Dree was emphatic. "Mmmmmm! I'd use my tongue on you 
now if I could. You look so sweet and punished." Gwenneth made cooing carnal sounds. 
"That's the bad thing about being punished. A girl gets cut off. We mustn't be touched. Look 
at us two: all look and no touch."

"I wish I could get at you." Dree admitted longingly. "Well, sometimes a girl will get at you 
while you're being punished. I've been sort of hoping... ! They creep in, make you happy for a 
little while, and then run like crazy. If they get caught they get terribly whipped and have to 
wear a chastity belt for a month. They lock the beastly thing on you so's you can't get it off."

Dree's next query was vanquished by the opening of the door. A damsel of some twelve 
summers surveyed the two captives possessively. She wore the school tunic, chains on her 
ankles, and a pert grin. She carried a small, slender, thin lashed whip.

"Go away, Mabel." Gwenneth said decisively. "We don't want you."

"Miss Levinson sent me."

"That's probably not true. But, unless you want to be nice to our pussies, buzz off."

"What! And wear a belt for a month! Not likely!" The youngster surveyed the tied nudities 
companionably. "Miss Levinson sent me to whip the new girl. She said it would save her from 
being bored."

"She's not bored. We were talking. Take a powder."

"I got to do it, Gwenneth. If she hasn't got marks I'll get 'em on me instead." The young 
features became beatific. " 'Sides, I want to."

"You mean Dree gets whipped and I don't?"

" 'S' 'right." Mabel beamed. "But she said if you want me to take those clips off your tits 
you can have a good whipping instead?"

"Big deal! Leave 'em on me."

"I'd whip you ever so nicely?"

"Yeah, I bet!" Gwenneth looked at her companion in distress apologetically. "There's 
nothing we can do about this little monster, Dree. They let the kids whip us for the extra 
humiliation. The little demons adore doing it."

"You mean I've got to be bent over helpless like this while a child uses that whip on me all 
bare?"

"I'll hurt you extra for calling me a child." Mabel said haughtily. "And of course you're bare.
You're being punished."

"Look, Mabel, it wouldn't hurt you to be sweet to our pussies first." Gwenneth wheedled. 
"We both need it bad. I'd make it up to you some way after I'm freed?"

"Would you like me to gag you, darling?"

"Shit!" In disgust, Gwenneth gave Dree a rueful grin. "She can do what she likes with us. 
Mabel's a real little twerp. But it's part of the treatment, so don't feel abused. Just par for the 
course."

Mabel assessed the nakedness she was about to whip. "Why did you just close your legs?" 
She demanded imperiously.

"Well, if you're going to whip my bottom--?"

"Who said anything about your bottom! Bottoms are old hat at Aylebury. Open your legs 
as far as your chain will let you, please."

Dree's instant plea was sincere. "Mabel, please don't whip the insides of my legs. It's a 
beastly sort of pain."

"Yes, isn't it." Mabel agreed amiably. "Open your legs." Dree recognized defeat. She 
opened her legs until her chain was taut, knowing herself cruelly exposed.

"Don't whip her too hard, Mabel." Gwenneth pleaded. "You don't have to, y'know."

"But I want to whip her hard. I want to see her kick."

"Any girl will kick if she gets whipped where you're going to cut at her. Go easy, Mabel. 
Don't forget you do get punished yourself once in awhile."

"Oh alright. Now, Dree, tell me how you like this?"

"Ouch! Oh wow! Oh damn! That was right across my cunt!"

"That's where I aimed it, darling. Did it hurt?"

"Something fierce. Please don't hit me there again, Mabel. There's lots more of me, 
y'know."

This time Dree kicked lustily. She could not stop herself. The pain from the thin lash 
burrowed deep. Her pussy was scorched in a fiery blaze. "That's the same place!" She accused. 
"The very same place."

"Of course, Dree dear." Mabel's tone was entirely reasonable. "You've only got one cunt, so
the poor little thing's bound to get a lot of attention. Open your legs again. You're forgetting."

Dree woefully absorbed a leisurely whipping of the insides of both her thighs. Mabel knew 
where a girl hurt most. The blows were not as hard as they could have been but they kept the 
chained legs kicking against the snub of their tether. But when, suddenly, the thong bit deep 
into the cleft of her crotch, Dree screamed and went into wild gyrations of protest. She could 
not escape but she danced an evasive gig as best she could. Mabel watched, enthralled.

"You're scrumptious." She enthused. "I'm sorry I mustn't whip you any more for now. But 
Miss Levinson said I could come back later. I expect you'll both be here all day." Unexpectedly,
she bent and kissed the back of Dree's bowed neck. "You've got the loveliest marks, darling... 
And I've got a Class. 'Bye for now." She was gone.

As she caught Gwenneth's commiserating gaze, Dree was possessed of a sudden wave of 
erotic heat. True, her loins were burning from the whip. But that she and Gwenneth were 
obliged to stand as they were now, nude, helpless, and at the mercy of any moppet who 
might walk in was a concept of bondage and discipline potent beyond words. Aylebury was 
clever. Miss Levinson was clever. She was in the hands of Mistresses of their art... !

"The little so and so could have whipped you harder, Dree."

"I know." Dree mused thoughtfully. "I've been whipped quite a lot by people who've loved 
me. If I'd been bad and they were angry they whipped me real hard. But they hardly ever 
whipped my cunt."

The nude girl with hands held high made a moue of disparagement. "You've probably just 
been a victim of Ayledury's wish to please. All the girls who come here have had their bottoms
whipped. Or they are thinking in terms of punishments on their bottoms. So Aylebury gives 
'em a shock. They get it somewhere else."

"Never on our bottoms?"

"Oh sure on our bottoms! A girl's bottom is much the best place to punish her. But when, 
that first time, she gets her cunt whipped instead, she sits up and pays attention. I know I did."

"But there's so many other places on us!"

"But none quite the same, Dree." The nude statue was pontifical in her wisdom. "Getting 
my boobs whipped doesn't get me near as horny as with my Kitty. I bet you're horny now?"

"... Yeeeeees, I am."

"See!" Gwenneth was amused. "But what makes it so-so tingly those first times is guilt. We 
all come here feeling guilty about sex. We've all done naughty things-even if it's only sticking 
our finger inside ourselves. So when they whip your Cat you're quite sure you deserve it and 
that you're certain to be whipped a lot more. I remember it absolutely palpitated my puss for 
days and days. Mostly now they just whip my bottom, or if I've been very bad, my back. I hate 
having my back whipped. It's so... so sort of... It makes me feel like a criminal in ancient days, 
and hurts something wicked. Gee, I howl!"

Dree felt more and more naked. Her thighs burned as badly as her Pussy. And there was 
going to be more of the same! Her chained feet sought to ease her wrenched shoulders, but 
that was useless. She discovered she could almost stand erect by allowing her bound and 
tethered hands to strain upward against her back. It was a small brief comfort but it hurt. She 
was still helpless.

"There's just no way with that tie." Gwenneth sympathised. "Whatever a girl does she ends 
up in the same old position looking at her toes. 'Course, come to think of it, I'm not much 
better off. I'd give my left tit right now to be able to lower my arms... and we've got hours and 
hours and hours--" Her dolor was cut short by the re-entry of Mabel. Mabel looked pleased. 
She still had the whip. "Miss Levinson says that, since you felt cheated, I can whip you too, 
Gwenneth. Isn't that super!"

"No it isn't! And I didn't feel cheated."

"You sounded like it. And the clips get left on your tits. I asked about that."

"You little devil! You probably asked about the whole thing!"

Mabel slashed her slender lash across Gwenneth's shoulders, a hard swift cut. "What was 
that you said, darling?"

"I said you were too sweet a girl to think up such a thing."

"That's not true either." Mabel's whip burned a thin scarlet line over the flat plane above 
Gwenneth's bottom. "Try again, darling."

"I'll say whatever you want me to say." Gwenneth vowed, defeated.

"That's better. Be nice and contrite. Say you're sorry you were a smartass."

"I'm sorry I was a smartass, Mabel."

"You know what comes next, darling."

"Thank you for whipping me, Mabel. Please whip me some more."

Mabel turned triumphantly to an apprehensive Dree. "You see how easy it is to train a girl! 
Just the littlest whipping... ! Although I'm not quite through yet."

"Mabel, don't be mean." Gwenneth was visibly aware of vulnerability on all fronts. She 
twisted unhappily against the rope from above. "You don't have to use that thing on us. 
Anyway, not so hard."

"Yes I do. You've got to have marks. Besides, you've asked me."

"Oh alright then! But just my bottom... Please?"

"If it's only your bottom it has to be hard."

"No it doesn't--Ow... ouch! Oh damn!" Gwenneth kicked distressfully against the snub of 
her chain. "Mabel, you little beast, you lapped that round my hip!"

"Lovely mark." Mabel said judicially. "I'll match it on the other side."

Gwenneth yelped and danced and yelped again. "That one was across my tummy, you 
little rotter."

"Only because you were dancing around on that rope. Are you going to stand still now?"

The teenager sniffed but held her tongue. She stood flinchingly still while the enraptured 
child flicked and lashed the passive bottom with gusto. It was by no means a flogging. But 
Dree, watching, understood the control Gwenneth had to be exercising not to scream or to 
twist. Her own loins scorched in sympathy.

"I'm getting all hot and bothered whipping you." Mabel announced without pausing in her
plying of the whip. "You look so sweet and helpless."

"I am sweet and helpless."

"And your bottom's getting the loveliest colours! Gosh, Gwen, I do admire the way you're 
standing still."

"Well, I can't go for a walk." Gwenneth retorted fretfully as she twisted her shoulders 
against the strain of the suspending rope. "Mabel, you little--! Well anyway, please stop. 
You've whipped me quite enough."

"I could go on all day, darling. I love your bottom."

"So do I. Look you--darling--Oh, ouch!"

"You were going to call me a nasty name, weren't you! I know." Mabel plied her whip 
vigorously upon the pink and cringing cheeks. "Tell me you're sorry."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry! Oh, Mabel, stoppit... Stoppit!" In pain and exasperation the teenager 
once more kicked and twisted and writhed as best she could against her bonds. "Oh--darling! 
Please stop whipping me."

Mabel stopped. She eyed the contorting pink and scarlet evidence of her small cruelty with
satisfaction. Suddenly curious, she cupped Gwenneth's unpunished sex with an inquisitive 
palm, and was delighted with the result. "You're beautifully hot and damp, darling."

"And so are you." The tied girl snorted. "Even if I can't feel." Her tone rose a pitch. "Mabel, 
we're all horny, the whole three of us. Be a sweet kid and make Dree and me happy for a little 
while. I'm so tired of standing tied like this, and it's going to go on and on. P--L--E-A--S--E... ! 
We're so excited we'll pop easily. It won't take you long."

Mabel's mood had changed. She surveyed the two triangles of pubic hair at her disposal 
with an increased interest. Thoughtfully, she fingered Dree's and found it to her liking. But she 
was still Mabel. "What would I get out of that?" She asked doubtfully. "You know you'd love 
eating us. Besides, we'll do you afterwards if you want."

"How could you, you're tied?"

"Easy! Let our arms down. Our hands will still be tied, so we can't play any tricks on you. 
When you've had enough of us you fix us back like we are now."

"Even with your hands tied you'll struggle and make a fuss."

"Don't be such a fraidy cat. You've got the whip, haven't you! If you whip me hard enough 
I'll do anything you want."

Mabel brightened. "Why sure! I hadn't thought of that."

It was a wicked, wise and avid little mouth. It fastened and fed upon Dree's sex like a leech 
with hands, small clawing hands upon girlish curves, drawing them in tighter and tighter 
against the hungry mouth. Dree burst into orgasm, a surging tide of acute sensation which 
threatened to tear her bent and stretched nakedness to pieces. Gasping in its aftermath, she 
watched Gwenneth served with equal competence. Mabel might be only twelve but Sappho 
would have been proud of her.

"There! I know you both loved it. I'm good. Gee, you're both still squirming." The 
youngster surveyed her conquests with pride. With commendable prudence she explained: 
"I'm only going to untie you one at a time. I'm scared of the two of you together. Which first?"

"I thought of it. I'll take first chance." Gwenneth volunteered. "O.K., Dree?"

Dree's strained bent punishment had become only a background distress as she had 
ridden to the clouds on Mabel's tongue and watched her teen-age fellow prisoner do the 
same. The breathless absorption continued as Gwenneth's tired arms were allowed to fall and 
the punished girl flexed them this way and that in a sensual ecstasy of relief. How good it 
would be for her too when her tied wrists fell behind her back and she could once more stand
erect! From her sideways vantage, the bent over girl watched Gwenneth fall to her knees and 
begin the feast which their young tormentor now postured for ultimate convenience. It was 
after the sounds of female flesh on female flesh had speeded in tempo over a couple of 
minutes that Miss Levinson's voice inquired icily: "I trust you're enjoying yourselves?"

It was a time of tears, of scarlet faces and lame excuses. Since Dree was still tied in 
punishment she was, for the moment, ignored. In guilt, Gwenneth diminished to a little girl, an
equal partner in crime with the weeping Mabel. They faced their executioner, still kneeling and
without courage.

"We didn't think you'd mind."

"Nonsense!"

"It was my fault." Gwenneth declaimed nobly. "It was my idea." She sniffed unhappily. 
"Please don't punish us too hard."

"Am I to believe you untied yourself?"

"Oh, but I was going to let Mabel tie me up again after--"

"After what?"

"Well... You know, Miss Levinson... What we were doing."

"As a matter of curiosity, Gwenneth, why are you still wearing your butterflies?"

The girl with tied hands and a pink bottom visibly squirmed. "Well... ! It hurts so much 
when they're taken off, and then hurts so much more when they're put back on.

"Indeed! You interest me. Come here."

Dree squirmed in sympathy. She looked instinctively at her own nipples. What Gwenneth 
was about to suffer was probably shockingly painful. Miss Levinson's command left no doubts 
as to what was about to happen.

"Bring your bound hands up and back over your head, Gwenneth. Rest them at the back of
your neck."

"Yes, Miss Levinson." The delinquent did as she had been told. Her eyes were agonized. 
She was trembling.

"You know what I am about to do, don't you, dear?"

"Yes, Miss Levinson."

"I want you to keep quite still during this small punishment. I want you to face the girls so 
they may get a good view. Can you do that?"

"I think I can, Miss Levinson. I'll try real hard."

"The penalty for failure would be severe, Gwenneth."

"Of course. I understand, Miss Levinson."

Dree's heart went out to the luckless girl as she stood with her breasts solidly protruded by
the stress of her raised arms and tied hands. Gwenneth looked very lovely and very frightened,
but her jaw was firm. She was gritting her teeth. "One at a time, dear. Slowly."

"Thank you, Miss Levinson. I'll try not to move."

Dree and a tearful Mabel watched in a feminine sharing of agony as a butterfly was taken 
from a firm young breast and the angrily red nipple gently massaged by a mature finger. 
Gwenneth's face was suddenly lined and drawn but she did not move. When the butterfly was 
carefully positioned and again allowed to exert its vicious bite she gasped and momentarily 
closed her eyes. That was all. "Excellent, dear. And now the other."

It was done. The butterflies shimmered as the two breasts rose and fell under the stress of 
heavy breathing. Gwenneth's tied wrists were brought back over her head. "Now, back where 
you were, Gwenneth."

"Please, Miss Levinson, must I! I've stood there so long. I'm so tired."

"And you will stand there a lot longer, dear." Miss Levinson promised crisply. "Move."

It seemed so cruel. Dree was painfully conscious of her own raised arms as she watched 
the young hands rise under the compulsion of the rope from above, and beheld the young 
toes lift and teeter until she could swear the youthful nudity was stretched more tautly than 
before. "You must be taught a lesson, Gwenneth dear."

"Yes, Miss Levinson. Thank you."

With one delinquent disposed of, the Mistress turned to the next. "As for you, Mabel... A 
complete breach of trust. I'm disgusted."

Mabel wept noisily. As though from a telepathic message she slipped out of her tunic to 
reveal her twelve year old nakedness rich with promises as yet unfulfilled. The child was 
evidently resigned to punishment.

"The padded leather cuffs, dear. A size to fit you."

The prettily made objects might have been a rattlesnake from the way in which the girl 
found them and passed them over. Without a word, she extended her hands and watched 
them cuffed tightly together wrist to wrist. But it was Miss Levinson's hand that guided Mabel 
beneath the suspended hook and inserted it.

"Miss Levinson... Oh please... please! Don't hang me up." Mabel's composure suddenly 
dissolved. "I couldn't stand it! I just know I can't."

"How old are you, dear?"

"I'm twelve. But-"

"Then you are old enough to have punishments beyond getting your bottom paddled or 
put in a cage."

"But I've never been suspended, Miss Levinson. Girls have told me--"

"I will now give you an opportunity to discover for yourself, dear." The Mistress's voice was
rich with generosity. "You are a lucky girl in being able to discuss your sensations with your 
friends here."

"But they aren't being punished as bad as I am!"

"Don't fuss so, child. Your weight is not such a tax on your wrists as Dree's would be."

"But I don't want to be hung up with my feet off the floor!" Mabel's was a wail of pure self 
pity.

"You are not about to die." The Mistress pressed a button.

"Ohhhhhh... Oooooo! Oh noooo!"

Mabel's feet had left the floor. They were kicking wildly at their chain. As her young 
nakedness rose higher she looked wildly about as though for help. "I'll be good... I'll be good! 
Oh, let me down please... Oh please!"

Miss Levinson smiled and left them to their pain.





CHAPTER SEVEN - THE GAMES MISTRESS


"We've several of these rooms at Aylebury." Helen Royd explained chattily. "The girls have 
their own names for them. We'll have this to ourselves for awhile. Considering your age I think
we should get to know each other."

Philippa Coyle stood in quiet bewilderment while her handcuffed wrists were changed 
from front to back. Helen Royd was a force, a beautiful competent force. "I'm afraid I left my 
tunic in the Classroom." She offered lamely for want of something better to say.

"You won't need it, dear. To cover you up is pure waste. Are the cuffs tight enough?"

"Another notch, if you want." Lippa was trying to show willingness. Shyly, she added: 
"Thank you for asking." Two clicks. Lippa felt the kindling of heat. Miss Royd's feminine fingers 
possessed magic. The cuffs were now snugly a part of her flesh. The naked girl wanted very 
much to speak and to confide as an equal, but felt only as a small girl in the presence of an 
omnipotent adult. "I feel so silly." She confessed. "If you don't mind, I'll sort of follow along."

Helen Royd chuckled. Her finger traced the two recent weals her captive's bottom bore as 
a momento of Heather Prowse. "Not much else you can do, dear. Did these two hurt as much 
as I think?"

"Indescribably! Thanks for saving me from the other eight. I wasn't as brave as I may have 
looked. I sort of got jockeyed--"

"Heather's good at that. You do understand, dear, I'm going to hurt you too?"

"Yes... I suppose I do. You see what I mean: I don't know the right responses... or motions... 
or anything."

"Just your age, Lippa. If you were sixteen you'd feel more at home. Tell me, would you like 
those shackles taken off your ankles?"

"Well, I've sort of got used to them."

Helen laughed. "That was a right response. But you're going to lose them anyway. Stick 
out a foot."

A key was used. With a foot unencumbered by chain, the captive girl flexed and stretched. 
"Gee, that feels strange."

"I'll let you walk round the room once. Go ahead. Enjoy."

The enjoyment was real. But each step felt guilty in its truancy from restraint. "You're 
spoiling me." Lippa frowned in concentration. "I was surprised by the mental authority those 
things imposed."

"Any girl will tell you the same thing. But you have to have them off to realise it. Now, 
stand still with your feet apart."

Philippa Coyle watched her ankles once again made captive. This time by a strap, buckled 
tight. On its outer side a ring. But there was no connecting chain. "Am I being punished now?"
She enquired awkwardly. "Or am I just being routinely restrained?"

"Such questions are punishable, Lippa. But I'll let you off that one. See the rug between the
slender posts? I want you to lay on it. On your back."

Miss Philippa Coyle found it awkward and ungraceful. The handcuffs compelled her to lay 
on one forearm.

"This is where I treat you like a sack of potatoes, dear. Sorry!" Helen Royd lifted a captive 
foot and heaved. The task demonstrated her lithe strength. In brief moments of effort Lippa's 
left anklet was ringed to a curved hook in one of the posts. To the naked girl it seemed a long 
way up in the air. Seconds later her right foot was similarly elevated. She lay now on her 
shoulders, her weight lifted from her cuffed hands and forearms. She was looking up at herself
in a semi upside down suspension. Her bare feet were far, far apart, their anklets biting. But, 
apart from all else, Miss Philippa Coyle was most vividly aware of an outrageous and total 
exposure of her sex. She had an excellent view of her own pubic hair. Anyone able to move 
could certainly make a convenient examination of everything within the juncture of her thighs.
She was blushingly conscious of the contours of her cunt.

"It's a most unkind posture for a girl." Helen Royd apologized brightly. "But, to be honest 
about it, it fans my flame. Do anything for you?"

"It makes me wanton. I'm so glad it's you who's looking at me."

Helen placed a hand upon the damp division, and smiled knowingly at her captive's gasp 
and writhe. "You can't take it away from me, dear."

"I don't want to! Ohhhhh... oh! Mmmmmm... "

"You're a lovely subject, y'know."

"If you leave your hand there I'll climax."

The hand was gently withdrawn. "My, my! With your emotional involvement you should 
have come here long ago, dear. For you to be running around loose is a denial of everything 
you are."

"Yes... Oh, yes!"

"Have you guessed what I'm going to do to you?"

"I can't without wishful thinking."

"Remember our talk? Remember your guilty pussy? Remember what I promised to do to 
her?"

Lippa was enveloped in a strange flood of fear and joy. Her eyes were wide and very bright
as she looked up at the smiling face framed between her tractioned legs. "You're going to 
whip my--my--"

"Yes. You guessed it, Lippa. I'm going to whip your cunt."

The orgasm was instant. Miss Philippa Coyle forgot the grotesquerie of her plight, forgot 
everything but the lovely features laughing down at her as she moaned and struggled vainly 
within her bonds. Her loins performed an obscene writhing all their own. She flung her head 
from side to side in the only real freedom she possessed. She uttered small female cries of 
discovery, within herself, of poignancies hitherto unknown. When she drifted back to the 
secure shores of her captivity, her apology was weak and uncertain: "I'm so ashamed... It just 
happened... ! Oh, Helen, I'm terribly sorry!"

"What are you sorry about, you erotic treasure!" Helen was omnipotently amused. "That's 
probably the most natural thing you've ever done. What set you off... The word, cunt?"

"That and the whip. Oh, Helen, put the two together...!"

"That's what I'm going to do, dear. I wasn't going to make you come first because I think 
it's nice for a girl to keep all the heat she has. It makes her pain more delicious and more 
bearable. But with you I don't suppose it matters. I think you have a little furnace burning all 
the time?"

"I never used to have."

"That's an admission you do have it now. Tell me, Lippa: What does this tie I've put you in 
make you feel?"

"Ninety percent cunt and ten percent furnace. Helen, you've made me utterly wanton."

"Think this might cure it?" The Games Mistress held up a small many thonged whip.

"I'm going to find out, aren't I!" It was a rueful prognosis.

"Climax all you want, darling. I'll keep right on whipping her."

Lippa could watch her own whipping: The athletic sway and swing, the swift arc of the 
cutting blow, the splat of the spread thongs within the cleavage of her moist thighs. She could
swear the sound was wet. Her flinch and her cry belonged solely to that special moment. 
Within her sex the small furnace burned with a fresh and fierce intensity. When Helen's second
blow spread its scorch upon the soft vulva so provocatively positioned for its punishment, its 
owner spasmed once again into a painful but delicious agony.

Helen Royd smiled happily and continued to beat the squirming nude sex with swift sure 
strokes of a whip specially designed for the punishment of girls. Amusedly, in her own mind, 
she had named it a 'cuntwhip.' She used it joyfully and steadily throughout Lippa's heaving 
gasping explosion of pent up lust. Fascinated, she watched the hirsute labia swell and become
engorged with concupiscent blood. The white thighs on either side become responsively pink,
then red, in a blush of anguish all their own. How richly rewarding this was in comparison to 
the petulant cries of small girls!

"Oh... oh... Oh, Helen... Oh, please, do stop!" Lippa was bewildered in a maze of sensations. 
She wanted to catch her emotional breath. This was an experience beyond all others.

Helen's smile was as small as the negative shake of her head. Without pause she continued
to whip Miss Philippa Coyle between her outstretched thighs. The areas of red were gaining 
steadily.

The bound girl began to moan, a continuous keening quality of sound, a feminine 
acknowledgement of the persistent pain of a female punishment in progress. Sometimes, as 
she tossed her head, her eyes would lock with those of the girl with the whip. Without words, 
the two of them observed a vow. The damp splatting of the lash became the symbol of its 
love. It beat incessantly within the sundered sanctuary of the bound girl's crotch.

Helen Royd paused in her plying of the thin leathers. Her eyes were bright, her sardonic 
query vibrant with pleasure. "Think your naughty pussy's had enough, Lippa?"

The upside down girl was still moaning in her world of female pain. She shook her head as 
though to clear it of dreams. Her voice was breathless: "Yes, oh yes! Oh, Helen, thank you!"

"What for?"

"I-I--I don't know. Just for everything, I guess. A thank you for stopping."

"Didn't you like my whip?"

"I don't know that either. I'm so absurd--"

"Hurt much?"

"I can't tell. I'm burning up there--I mean the place you've been whipping me. Ohhhhh... 
wow!"

Lippa's pubic triangle suddenly disappeared beneath a cascade of tawny gold. She tensed 
into momentary rigidity as a lush mouth possessed itself of her swollen and tender vulva and 
a muscular tongue entered between the drenched lips to seek its prize within. But the tension 
fled as she realised what was being done to her. The moans returned as the upended loins 
began a rhythmic pelvic thrust. Having feasted her gaze upon the flood of hair scattered on 
her belly, Miss Philippa Coyle closed her eyes.

"Like it better than the whip?" It was a long time after the final gasp. Helen Royd's 
question was loaded with affection.

"Oh, Helen! I can't hold you. I can't kiss you. I can't do anything... ! Oh, you were so 
gorgeous... Mmmmmm!"

"Well, thank you. You're not exactly a desiccated spinster yourself. Three explosions in 
almost no time flat. Want me to start whipping you again?"

"If you want, Helen. If you want to whip me some more I'll try and not mind."

Helen Royd sighed. "I suppose that's as close to the perfect response as any girl's ever 
likely to get. Damn you, darling, you're habit forming. I could go on whipping that pussy cat of
yours all night."

"Why not! I can't stop you." Lippa's eyes, which should have been heavy with repletion, 
were sparkling mischief. "This way you've got me fixed is the darndest sex heater. It's awful! I 
lay here helpless and look at my bush and up to either side along my legs to those lovely 
straps on my ankles... and it's the most shocking turn on. You've turned me into a sex symbol 
that works on me. I mean--It's my own pussy up there!"

"She's a beauty! Pity you can't see her better. And I can recommend her flavour, she's 
luscious."

"She feels as though she's been out on display in a department store under a bright 
light--and with a fire burning below."

Musingly, the tawny haired Mistress circled the spread, but tightly held, nakedness. "You're
right, Lippa. You're probably the most erotic thing I've ever seen. Sight of you like that would 
drive a man insane--although he'd have to be an acrobat or have wings... " She chuckled. 
Wouldn't it be a hoot to turn a male loose in a room with someone like you in it. Except have 
her fastened with shackles he couldn't break or open without a key."

Lippa giggled. "But don't do that to me please. Even if a man only looked--I'd die!"

"You wouldn't, y'know. Men have been looking at us girls a long time."

"But not naked! Not like you've got me. Honest, Helen, I couldn't bear it. I'd feel soiled for 
weeks."

"It happened to me once, dear." Helen held up a hand for silence. "There were some girls I 
played around with when I was about your age. We weren't too intimate. But I tried to interest
them, told 'em all about what girls can do with a bit of rope and each other. I even offered 
them the rope."

"To let them tie you up?"

"Sure, or me tie one of them. It was the damndest mistake. They decided I was a kook and 
nuts and not to be trusted with nice girls. I shrugged it off and forgot it, and them. Two weeks 
later they grabbed me and hauled me off to a public park. One of these heavily treed parks 
girls stay away from unless they're with a guy. They gagged me, stripped me and tied me 
down on the ground, spreadeagle, stretched out to four stakes. They'd brought along 
everything they needed to fix me good. They even had a flat wooden box which, when they 
shoved it under my bottom, raised my pussy cat up like a beacon." Helen Royd grinned 
ruefully and shrugged. "I fought like a demon but there were too many of them. When they 
had me the way they wanted they checked all the knots, tugged 'em a bit tighter, and went 
away laughing. I couldn't talk or plead to make a deal or anything. I was foxed but good."

"In a public Park!" Lippa was envisioning herself in such a predicament. "Oh, Helen, 
how--?"

"It was secluded. There was no one around. People don't go to parks much anymore. It 
was late afternoon and they said if I wasn't home by morning they'd come and release me. 
Imagine, all night like that! Thank goodness it was summer and a real hot evening."

Lippa was considering. She tried to voice an obvious thought: "But, Helen, was there any... 
? I mean, did you... ? It was the real thing, wasn't it. You hadn't consented or planned? You 
were really and truly a maiden in distress?"

Helen Royd laughed bitterly. "Oh sure, you guessed it. Authentic was the word, and as I 
struggled against those ropes and those four stakes I got horny as all get out. They'd done 
such a beautiful job on me. And that box under my bottom was a real turn on. I was sure my 
pubic hair took up the whole horizon. I wallowed in this lovely eroticism for quite awhile, 
tugging and writhing to assure myself I was well and truly tied, before I thought about men. 
Even when it did occur to me I took it for granted he'd let me loose. I'd have to put up with 
being looked at naked but that was all."

"But to be gagged! That was cruel."

Helen chuckled disgustedly. "As it happened it didn't matter. The man, when he came, 
gave me a good looking over before he asked: "You doing this for fun, Miss?"

"I shook my head like crazy. I couldn't utter a word."

"You want me to let you loose?"

"I nodded hard enough to jar my teeth."

"That means you haven't got anyone coming." He walked round me a couple of times to 
make sure he hadn't missed any bit of me. Then he just simply raped me and went away."

"He didn't even take out the gag?"

"Hell no! The last thing he wanted was an argument or screams. I was a neat package he'd 
found used and left where he found it. There were three of 'em who came by and treated me 
the same way. I remember one of them snickering: "Too good a chance to miss, Lady." Before 
he left me as tightly tied as ever. I thought I'd go crazy heaving and pulling at those ropes. 
Here and there bits of the good feeling came back. But I was so frightened they didn't last. 
The fourth chap was a gentleman. He untied me and helped me get home."

"Gosh!" Lippa wrinkled her nose in horror. "And was that all?"

"Wasn't it enough! I'd been fucked three times and hadn't had a single climax or even felt 
like one. That was the end of it. No dramatic ending. No revenge." Helen laughed ruefully. 
"But I may as well admit I'm glad it happened. I didn't get pregnant or infected, and nobody 
found out. So I took it for what it was: a remarkable experience that hadn't hurt me but which 
I wouldn't want to repeat."

They looked at each other in silence, sharing the bond of confidence, of pain, and of being
female. "I'm going to take you for a little walk." Helen Royd said thoughtfully.

Lippa kept mute. She had nothing to say. She thrilled happily at the other girl's touch and 
at her strength. With her feet hoisted from the hooks and the anklets removed she was able to
stand. She thrust forward a foot for its shackle.

"Not now, Lippa. Later. Here, I'll take your arm instead."

When she walked, Lippa found herself sore and tender between her thighs. She did not 
care, but said, dreamily: "I've got a pussy burn. I've never had one before."

"I promised you one every week. Remember?"

"I'll remind you if you forget."

"Heather Prowse was right. You're an erotic menace. Look, dear, we're not going far. But I 
want to show you something. Through this door... "

It was another room. Without chained feet, Lippa made a silent entry. Her wrists were still 
handcuffed behind her back. It was her only bond. In amazement she viewed an incredible 
tableau. Three naked girls: A youngster, tear stained, hanging by her wrists, her small toes a 
foot above the floor. A teenager tautly tethered from above, her bound hands held high to 
compel her rising on her toes... upon each of her nipples a gaudy butterfly. The third girl, bent 
and strained, was her own beloved.

"Dree... darling?"

"Lippa... Oh, Lippa!"

"Old friends?" Helen Royd asked casually.

Lappa bit her lip. Dree flushed guiltily. Desperately, Lippa sought to mend a fence. "We 
met on the train. We arrived together."

"Really." Helen Royd was once again the Games Mistress. Her query now was pure 
sarcasm. "Did you make love on the way down?"

"I don't know what you mean." Dree declaimed virtuously. But please could I be untied 
from this? I'm getting awfully tired."

"I never interfere with Miss Levinson's prisoners." Helen Royd said primly. She motioned to
a disturbed Lippa. "This little girl is Mabel, and this one who is old enough to know better is 
Gwenneth. It would appear you know the other girl better than I do." She swept three 
dolorous maidens with her engaging smile. "Just a brief visit, girls. Come, Lippa, I have an 
appointment."

Lippa hated the silence but dared not break it. She felt under suspicion, in disgrace. Why, 
oh why couldn't she have kept her mouth shut! But Helen Royd had become her brisk self 
again. For her, the incident appeared past. Her tone was faint apology.

"I have to leave you alone for a little while, dear. You won't mind being immobilised?"

The handcuffs stayed. Lippa was backed against the wall of the now familiar room. A collar
was snapped round her neck. Its linkage to the stone was pitifully short. She would have to 
stand. Another shackle drew her left foot slightly to the side and prisoned it fast. To the right, 
beside her foot, was a concrete cube, a fifteen inch square of stone in the top centre of which 
there wainted the iron band to which her right ankle was now raised and attached. For 
balance and for comfort the foot remained where it had been chained. The links would not 
allow it a return to the floor. The nude girl thus stood with her back to the wall and one 
negligent foot firmly placed upon the block. Lippa giggled. "This is the way whores stand on 
street corners." She pointed out in amusement.

"But they don't wear handcuffs, dear."

Lippa looked down at herself and reached an obvious conclusion. "It's a bit indecent, 
y'know. I bet my whipped pussy is well on view?"

"Not really, darling, just your nice pubic hair."

"And I'll get tired. I'm really standing on one foot." Helen Royd kissed the eager lips. "You 
can bear it for a little while, can't you?"

"Of course I can. I'm sorry for complaining."

Before she went away Helen Royd kissed her captive again. This time it was longer and 
more passionate. It left Lippa gasping and straining at her tether. She had longed to clutch 
and to hold, but handcuffed as she was her hands were lost.

It was a naughty little girl posture. Lippa was not in a corner facing the wall, but the 
necessity of standing upright against the wall held much the same connotation. She longed to
finger the collar on her but that also was denied. In turn, she kicked or tugged at all her 
tethers. They snubbed her short. All were metal, all were locked. It was a waste of time to 
struggle. But it was something to do, and she could not deny a thrill in this postured bondage 
Helen had imposed. Each bite of metal had been made snug upon her by Helen's hand. She 
would not get free until Helen made her so. It was the very essence of the longings which had 
brought herself and Dree to Aylebury. "You asked for it" she told herself wryly. "Enjoy, enjoy, 
enjoy!"

But there was a small cloud. The cloud was Dree and the memory of Dree bent and 
strained and unhappy. Right at this moment Dree was being punished. She did not know for 
what. But Lippa did know she herself would not wish to stand many hours as Dree was 
standing. Dree's arms had been hoisted far too high for bondage. They were tied for penance.

Without the personality influence of a Mistress or of Dree, Lippa stood in her chains and 
pondered the wisdom of consenting to Dree's insistence on this bizarre adventure. Her crotch 
was still on fire from Helen's whip. Her cuffed hands were constantly tracing the sore welts on 
her skin implanted by the determined Heather Prowse. She, tinglingly, considered the eight 
strokes still to come, and wondered if she would actually be obliged to receive them. 
Overshadowing all her musings was a question mark. Would d the two of them be freed and 
sent home on the prearranged date! A date not far distant in time. But if, in the span of it, they
were constantly whipped and punished it might seem very long indeed. She had no reason to 
believe Aylebury would keep them captive, but the whole situation was unusual. Helen Royd 
was not ordinary. Behind the teaching staff and the captive girls there loomed the awesome 
shadow of Jessica Kilroy. Her aunt's letter had actually told little of Miss Kilroy. It said she was 
a 'woman of character', but that was a hackneyed phrase. The character of a woman whipping 
a girl's bare back or bottom does not lessen the pain of the stripes upon her skin. The captive 
sighed and once more wriggled in search of a comfort denied. The sudden opening of the 
door came as a surprise. So, too, did Helen Royd's composed voice.

"This room makes an excellent exhibit. It holds an inmate at the moment. She adds 
something to the decor."

Miss Philippa Coyle stared in pure horror. This could not possibly be happening! It was 
too, too cruel! Helpless to change any part of herself she gazed at her visitors askance.

The junior partner of Hazlett, Krepps, Bundberry, Slade and Ripon stared back in equal 
incredulity. For a moment his male interest in female nudity feferred recognition. But, as his 
startled scrutiny rose above her breasts, the inevitable exclamation burst like a bomb:

"Miss Coyle! What the devil--?"

David Ripon was at a loss for words.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Ripon."

It sounded lame, and silly, and as though she'd done something reprehensible--which no 
doubt she had! Philippa's wrists were fighting the handcuffs in her most urgent need to cover 
something... anything! She moaned inwardly. If only she could lower her leg! She sent Helen 
an urgent message with appealing eyes, but Miss Royd was giving her full attention to the 
astounded man of Law.

"Miss Coyle just recently came to Aylebury, Mr. Ripon . The pause was pure invitation to 
confidence. "I had no idea you were old friends...?"

"Er, well... not exactly."

"But you do know each other?" The pursuit was relentless.

"Miss Coyle is one of our most valued clients." David Ripon said stiffly. "Perhaps you 
should cover her up?"

Miss Philippa Coyle was distraught. To be chained naked in front of her Barrister and 
Solicitor was a shame beyond all shames. She wondered how far down her blush was mantling
her skin. "I'm so embarrassed," she offered feebly. "Perhaps you should--"

"Our girls are always naked when punished, Mr. Ripon. I believe Miss K filled you in?"

"Miss Kilroy has been very frank. We make no judgments. But--"

"Miss Coyle will shortly be whipped. Perhaps you'd care to watch the proceeding... ? Miss 
Kilroy has given you carte blanche, has she not?"

David Ripon had recovered. He had, as it were, caught up with Aylebury Court. "Miss Kilroy
has been very kind." He said bluntly. "But, Miss Royd, have you any idea who this young 
woman is?"

"Her full name is Philippa Coyle. She is--"

"Miss Coyle, together with her cousin, Adrienne Laidlaw, is the owner of this school, of 
Aylebury Court." The regard David Ripon turned upon the Games Mistress was severe. "In a 
sense, that young woman you have chained naked to the wall is your employer."

For Lippa, it was one of the longest waits of her life. The leg bearing most of her weight 
got more and more tired, the one resting on the block became more and more frustrated. 
Chafed wrists forced her to stop the fruitless twisting against their chrome cuffs. But, worst of 
all, was the speculation. She did not even know what she was waiting for.

Helen Royd had not been dismayed. On the contrary she had been jubilant. She was in her
own element, David Ripon was not in his. She marshalled him from the room with a bland 
persuasiveness that left him off balance, and the chained girl totally at a loss. Her brisk 
assurances of a simple matter to be simply dealt with echoed back after the closing of the 
door behind David Ripon's hesitating Savile Row tailoring. When they had gone the 
punishment room seemed doubly silent and Lippa's chains twice as heavy. Miss Philippa Coyle
was annoyed with her own part in the small contretemps. She had acted as a simpering child. 
Even with David Ripon's assurance it would be hard for Helen to believe her true identity. She 
was annoyed also by a jumble of emotions she could not sort out. She kicked fretfully at a 
chain as she considered the inevitable confrontation with Jessica Kilroy and their departure for
home. Her heart leaped at that one thought of being again alone with Dree, of herself once 
more the dominant, of no more being whipped! But the roseate vision was clouded by the 
lovely features of Helen Royd. Helen might whip her every day, but Lippa knew she could not 
bear to part from this tawny maned lioness who had stolen a part of her being and made it 
her own. It was no infidelity to Dree. It was-It was... ! Lippa did not know what to call her 
passionate enslavement.

Lippa waited... chained!

"You expect to be whipped, I hope?" Helen asked briskly.

"Yes."

Philippa was vibrant with joy. She would have said yes to anything the Mistress desired. To 
be whipped seemed a small thing compared to being parted.

Helen kissed her, a light chiding kiss of reproof. "I hope you're properly ashamed?"

"Yes."

"I have known David Ripon some time. In a business sense we are friends. I have asked him
to say and do nothing until your sentence has expired. He has agreed. He assumes you are 
making a test and an experiment which can only be valid if you are incognito. Happy?"

"Yes! Oh, yes... Oh, Helen!"

The Games Mistress was amused. "I half thought you'd be thankful to be out of Aylebury 
considering the whipping Heather is still going to give you and what you know you'll suffer at 
my hands?"

"Oh, no... No!"

Helen Royd visibly preened. "I'm the only one here who knows your secret. I'm going to 
punish you terribly for making an idiot of me. You can fire me afterwards, but in the meantime
I've got you!"

"I won't discharge you. Not ever! Helen, what about Dree?"

Dree doesn't know. She'll follow a normal course. Dree belongs to Megan Levinson. I won't
punish her."

But when you took me? She was being punished then?"

Helen laughed. "Mother hen concerned about her chick? Don't worry, darling, that 
delightful nymphet is probably as resilient as you and has just as strong a fire burning inside 
her dingus. Megan won't put it out."

"But why was David Ripon here?"

School business with Kilroy. Pure coincidence. But I couldn't miss the chance. Dammit, I 
didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to pick up the names and you and Dree making 
exclamations and sheep's eyes. I put everything together and took a chance. If David hadn't 
known you it wouldn't have mattered. He'd have seen a naked girl and you'd have had the 
thrill of a good looking male examining your pubic hair and nipples." Helen laughed. "He took
his time doing it, didn't he!"

"I can't possibly face him again. Not ever!"

"Yes you can. Don't dare take your business away from him just because of what happened
today. I can look David in the face, and he knows all about me. He knows about all of us.. He 
knows about Aylebury because some of our girls come to us through his Law Firm, and 
Kilroy's never been hypocritical with him. She thought it best he knew."

Lippa relaxed. Her sentence at Aylebury was upheld but she felt reprieved. Pain awaited 
her but so did Helen. At the moment it seemed a most profitable exchange. "Are you going to
whip me now?" She asked happily.

Helen chuckled. "Do you realise the time, you beloved idiot. You and I are going to bed."

It was as though preordained. In a daze of happiness she remained passive as she was 
freed. Then the shackle was replaced on her ankles and the handcuffs changed back to front. 
"What do I get?" She asked shyly. "A dungeon, a cell, a cage...?"

"You get my bed, that's what you get, you erotic menace. And you get me in there with 
you."

The food was nice, the bath was nice, the bed was superlative. Lippa nestled in it like a 
pampered kitten. She had been shown the silver collar now locked upon her neck. It was 
beautiful. So was the twelve foot length of chain trailing from it to the ring in the wall. "It's not
just symbolic, darling." Helen had explained as she snapped the lock. "It gives you complete 
freedom in bed, but you can't walk off in the middle of the night while I'm asleep. Here, I'll 
take the shackle off your ankles. I'll need your feet wide apart. You can keep the handcuffs. 
Dammit, I mustn't spoil you entirely."

"But you are spoiling me entirely, Helen. I ought to be weeping in a cell."

"If your conscience bothers you, tell it to think about tomorrow." Helen advised grimly. 
"Tomorrow you're going to get a severe and formal whipping." She paused for effect. "But 
that's for your afternoon. In the morning there'll be a prelude. You and I are going to carry on 
from where we left off between your legs."

"But my pussy's still tender from last time!"

"Good! Open your legs wide and let me get at her. I'll make her forget."

Lippa obeyed, but wanted to be fair. "It's really your turn first, y'know?"

"We've got all night, silly! And you taste so good."

Lippa thought about tomorrow and about being whipped. But she did not think about it 
long. She was surprised at how difficult the handcuffs were when she tried to push a pillow 
underneath her bottom.

More waiting! Miss Philippa Coyle wryly recognized the punishment factor in the wait. 
They tied you. They told you what you were about to suffer. Then they went away. She 
wondered if the old time torturers had done it. If they had not, then they'd missed a good bet.
She looked up at her neatly strapped wrists and the rope by which they were raised up above 
her head. Her heel were still on the floor, but only just! Next, she turned her attention to her 
left leg. It had the appearance of seeking to run off on its own but not quite succeeding. It too
was tethered, but by a separate rope raising it outrageously high and tensioning it off to the 
side so she could not pull it back. It stuck up and out stressfully and placed all her weight 
upon the single foot on which she stood. Lippa cherished no doubts about the exposure of 
her sex. It was blatant. It was extremely accessible. Its accessibility was, in fact, a little 
frightening.

It was going to be whipped.

This wait, together with her specific knowledge of the whip and where, upon her own 
person, it would be used was potent. With any Mistress other than Helen she would be in 
tears and pleading. But any other Mistress would gag her. They would not be interested in the
conversations she and Helen Royd indulged in during punishment. They would be concerned 
with whipping her cunt and thus guiding her to a proper frame of mind. At Aylebury 
everything was really delightfully simple.

"Tootsie tired?" Helen enquired flippantly.

"Terribly."

"Good! That goes with the package. Gosh, darling, I can really get in and under at you."

"I'll never be able to keep still. I'll behave disgracefully."

"That's O.K. It's the reason you're tied like that. I want to watch."

"Oh, Helen...!"

"I'm a sadistic bitch. Will you invite me to tea when I'm unemployed?"

"You'll never be unemployed. If you don't want to stay here you can come and live with 
us."

"You're forgetting darling Dree."

"No I'm not. Darling Dree won't have anything to say about it. She'll be neatly tied up 
when you arrive, and forever thereafter. You're forgetting my role with Dree."

"My, such dominance!" Helen chuckled. "And from a natural born submissive."

"I'm not submissive at all. It's only--"

"How come you're in the fix you're in then?"

"W--E--L--L--... ! Oh, damn, I don't know. It's all your fault. You've got some sort of magic, 
Helen."

"But you committed yourself to Aylebury. Remember?"

"And don't think I haven't kicked myself. But then, if I hadn't come I'd never have met 
you."

"I'm going to whip you now, you sexpot. Would you like to be gagged?"

"Nnnnnn, I don't think so."

"Not sure? Tell you what, dear. I'll whip your cunt slowly without a gag, or fast with one?"

"Slowly without please."

"Very well. But don't be scared to change your mind. You're going to hurt quite a lot today,
and I've got the nicest gag. It's a nice wide strap over your mouth with a rubber wad that fills 
you up over your tongue. It tapers and buckles behind your neck. It's nicely tailored to fit and 
looks quite feminine on a girl."

"You almost tempt me. Oh, Helen, are you going to hurt me terribly?"

"You know I am. But tell me if you think you deserve it or not?"

"I deserve it. I'll ask you to whip me if you like?"

Helen's laugh was tender. "I'd better start. Any more of your erotic submissions and I'll be 
climaxing all over the place."

Miss Philippa Coyle found it hard to judge whether the pain was less or more than last 
time. It was very awful pain and, because she could not keep still, was inflicted over a wider 
area of her loins. She surprised herself with agony inspired gymnastics, even to the point of 
raising herself by her bound wrists so that her single foot could kick wildly in the air in its own 
distress.

"Lippa, you're gorgeous!"

The pause was momentary. The measured strokes continued, biting in snapping splats 
upon her vulva or curling its thongs across the soft insides of her thighs. Sometimes, in her 
paroxysms of writhing, the small cruel whip would leave its vicious kiss upon her hip. 
Throughout all her struggles her left foot remained strung out and up and far away. She 
looked at it longingly. If only she could get it back! If only--! Helen's whip laughed at her 
yearning and gleefully sought out the cleft her thigh might once have hid.

"Enjoying my little whip, darling?"

"Ohhhhhh... Oh, Helen, I don't know what I'm enjoying. Please gag me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to start to scream. I've been trying so hard, but my whipping goes on 
and on and on!"

"This whipping is finished, darling. You don't think I'm going to ruin your sweet little puss, 
do you! I love it too much."

"She's a naughty little puss."

"Oh, I'll agree to that! So is her owner. You're the most provokingly erotic female to ever 
enter Aylebury. I've never lost my cool over a girl the way I have you. Do you want me to let 
you down?"

"No."

"You're in a glow of superheated lust, Lippa. You should be ashamed."

"Oh, I am, Helen! But the glow stays."

"Try thinking about the whipping I'm going to give you this afternoon. Maybe that will 
dissolve it."

The bound girl's tone was merely pensive. "It's going to hurt something awful, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"So I'll scream?"

"Yes."

"Could I be gagged if I wanted?"

"No."

"Mmmmmm... Gosh, Helen, you're short, sharp and decisive about me, aren't you!"

"Yes."

"And you're going to leave me with my hands suspended and my leg up in the air until it's 
time for my back to be whipped?"

"No."

They both laughed. They were attuned. A smoldering fire encompassed the two of them as
one. "I have to be insane." Lippa mourned. "I'm going to be flogged and I'm laughing. On top 
of that I've already got a burning puss and smarting thighs, to say nothing of those snaps that
cut my hips."

"You look gorgeous down there. The most beautiful pinks and reds. Anyway, I'm going to 
untie you now. I don't want you exhausted for this afternoon."

"Are you taking me out to lunch?"

"That will cost you! Actually, you're going to spend the waiting time in your new position."

"Maybe I'd be better off like this?"

"Don't be impudent. Hold still."

Lippa watched with interest. It was always thrilling to be an audience of one, observing 
what was done to herself. Her arms came down but her wrists remained strapped. Her leg 
came down and belonged to her once more. The shackles were locked back upon her ankles. 
Everything felt too good to last.

"Over by the post, dear."

Palpitating in response, obedient, excited: The girl with strapped hands and shackled feet 
stood beside the slender column, the only one still installed. Its twin was gone. Without a 
word, the Mistress unbuckled the straps and passed the limp arms around the post. There 
came the familiar click of handcuffs. Lippa drew in a breath of acute sensation as her wrists felt
the familiar bite.

"What d'you think, dear?" Helen asked chattily.

The naked girl peeped round the post at her joined hands. Ruefully she admitted: "Well... I 
suppose I'm not going anywhere. It's--It's sort of cute."

"You can stand, you can sit. You can even make love to the post while I'm not around, 
darling."

"But, for my whipping, how will you tie me, Helen?"

"You're already fixed. Try and run away."

"I can't. Being handcuffed like this is sweet." Lippa wriggled shyly. "It makes me so... 
innocent. But you can't whip me like this."

"Why not?"

"Because I can still move around. Watch me, Helen." Leaning back but clasping the pole, 
Lippa clinked her feet to complete a circle. "See! You'd have to chase me."

"That's going to be fun." Helen implanted a swift kiss on a puzzled mouth. "Round and 
round she goes, and where she stops nobody knows."

"But I wouldn't stop. You'd have to chase me."

They laughed into each other's eyes, enjoying their game. For Lippa it was a toying with 
fire. But the blaze was delicious. It matched the conflagration between her legs. She wanted 
the game with Helen to go on and on forever. She was besotted with this lovely creature with 
the tawny mane.

"While I whip you I'm going to stand in one place." Helen explained soberly. "I won't be 
using my little cuntwhip... ! Just think a moment or two."

Lippa's response was instant. "You mean that if I don't offer you my back I'll get it on my 
front?"

"Perfect first time."

"I'll never manage it. Not with this much freedom."

"You've got a pair of breasts, y'know, darling. Shouldn't you consider them?"

"You mean... ? You would--?"

"Not purposely. But if you're hopping around all over the place they're bound to be at the 
wrong place at the wrong time."

"Oh, Helen-!"

The Mistress laughed delightedly at her captive's gradual realisation of dilemma. "I'll let 
you into a secret, darling. I've whipped a lot of girls handcuffed like that, and they all react the 
same way. They hop around until they discover it hurts too much and then, just like finding 
solace in a lover's arms, they hug that post and press themselves against it and there they 
stay."

"But that offers their back, all bare and unprotected?"

"But very practical. After all, it's your back that's supposed to be whipped, darling."

"Oh, golly, that's awful!" Lippa grinned back at the laughing eyes. "It's a psychological 
tease. You're being clever."

"That's right. Bare the back and save the front."

"I'll hate it. I'll feel so-so-so foolish."

"You'll love every moment, dear. And think! You get to stand like that and wait."

"Excuse me, Miss Royd."

Two pairs of adult eyes swung towards the voice. Its owner was a widely grinning nymphet
whose interest in what she beheld was all too obvious. Her eyes were as wide as they were 
bright.

"What is it, Valerie? Couldn't you knock?"

"I did, Miss Royd. Honest. But no one-"

"What is it you want?"

"Miss Kilroy, the Headmistress, sent me." Valerie radiated pride. "She says she wants to see 
you in her study and will you please come." Intrigued, the nymphet gaze shifted to the naked 
girl handcuffed to the post. "And Miss Kilroy wants her too at the same time. Her name is Miss
Philippa Coyle, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. Thank you, Valerie. We will go immediately."

"You're welcome, Miss Royd."

"Well, run along! Run along! Don't stand there." Reluctantly the enthralled moppet 
departed. The door closed.

"The word will be all through the school I'm whipping a girl my own age." Helen Royd 
motioned irritably. "That little so-and-so had never seen a girl your age naked. Her eyes were 
popping. Oh, hell, darling, I wonder what Kilroy wants. I bet it won't be good."

"You mean... because of me? She's found out we're fond of each other? Is that bad?"

"It shouldn't be. But the only way we can find out is go. And we shouldn't waste any time."

"But I can't! Not like this. My tunic--?"

"Oh, damn your tunic, Lippa. It's probably still with Heather."

"You mean I can go--naked!"

"Of course. Kilroy's seen a good many naked females in her time. Just be your sweet 
submissive self."

"I'm not! Oh, Helen...!"

"I'll use the handcuffs on you in front." The Mistress chuckled. "You'll be able to cover one 
thing of your own choice."

"No please, I want them in back. In front they'll make me seem sillier than I am."

Breasts heaving, Lippa watched herself unlocked from around the column that was to have
been her whipping post. She turned her back, offering her bare arms. Helen snapped the steel
bands tight on the passive wrists. "O.K." She assented. "I know what you mean. You can't 
possibly cover all three, so best cover nothing."

Lippa stuck out a shackled foot. "Don't forget these."

"You wear 'em, darling. Regulations. Remember?"

"But I can't possibly visit the Head Mistress with my feet chained... clinking and rattling."

"You're going to, dear. Kilroy won't miss your tunic, but she'll miss your chain if you're not 
wearing it. It's an offence."

"Oh damn! Oh jeepers, Helen, I'm all blushes and naked and frightened."

"You look delightful. Come along."

"I'd feel more natural about this if I was sixteen." Lippa mused aloud. "I'm twenty-six and I 
ought to know better."

"Maybe she'll fall in love with you like I did." Helen took the naked girl by a pinioned arm 
and led her to the stairs. She was not laughing.

Jessica Kilroy's features had what is often referred to as "Good bones." In age she would 
still be handsome. Approaching forty, she was austerely attractive. A face to remember even 
though it seldom smiled. Lippa caught the instant flicker of a glance checking her shackle. Her
nudity brought no comment. But the scrutiny she received seemed to bum her skin. The voice 
was crisp and dry.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Royd. Please sit. The chair across the desk... Ah, thank you." 
Impassive features swiveled to the captive girl: "Philippa Coyle, I believe the name is. You will 
stand a little forward where we can both see you. Your arms are at your back. Are they 
cuffed?"

"Yes, Miss Kilroy."

"Good!"

Grey eyes assessed. The silence was painful. The voice, when it came, was a monotone 
without warmth.

"Yesterday, Miss Royd, a girl I need not name but who I have reason to trust took it upon 
herself to eavesdrop while you are viewing our premises with Mr. Ripon. Her act is 
unforgivable. She is now being punished."

Another silence. Lippa knew herself trembling. She dared not look at Helen Royd. She 
stood at what she hoped was a polite attention.

"The girl in question." Miss Kilroy continued. "Was shocked by what she overheard. So 
much so that it was not until a short time ago today she plucked up courage to come to me 
and confess. She was able to repeat a conversation between Mr. Ripon and you two young 
women almost word for word. The grey eyes focused on Philippa alone. They were stony with 
contempt. "Would either of you care to make a comment?"

To prevent another lengthening silence, Helen Royd asked, in an equally crisp tone: 
"Perhaps we should know what is alleged to be overheard."

"Simply that this naked person here, together with a girl of nineteen who is somewhere 
around the premises, are joint owners of Aylebury Court."

It was a small bomb, invisible but there. Each of the three women dealt with it in their own 
way. Helen Royd said, flatly: "The responsibility is all mine. I did what I believed best."

"It's my fault. Dree and I should never have come here." Lippa was equally emphatic.

Jessica Kilroy looked from one to the other of them in unfeigned disgust. Then fixed on 
Philippa Coyle. "Are you and-this girl, truly the owners of this property, of Aylebury Court?"

"I'm afraid so. Please don't be angry with us."

The steely eyes sought Helen Royd. "When you discovered their deception you condoned 
it?"

"I simply believed it best all round for them to finish their sentence here, it's only a week or
so to go, then return home. They could have visited you normally sometime in the next 
month."

"They could have visited me normally in the first place."

"I know we did wrong." Lippa interjected unhappily. "But please forgive us. Send us home. 
We'll come and get properly acquainted in a couple of weeks."

"No."

A cold hand touched Lippa's spine. Jessica's negative had been more than eloquent. The 
Headmistress was seething with pent up anger. Falteringly, the naked girl asked: 
"But-but--what else can we do?"

"You have told me your wrists are handcuffed behind your back. I myself can observe the 
school chain joining your ankles. Free yourself and you may go where you please."

"But I can't! Not possibly! A girl can't get out of handcuffs."

"Precisely."

Two discomforted young women looked at each other in dismay. Whatever they might 
have said was swept away in the flood of Jessica Kilroy's wrath. The Headmistress's coldly 
reasoned summation was vehement.

"I have been abominably treated. Spied upon by two creatures who may or may not own 
this School, my authority flouted and ignored, betrayed by a member of my own staff." The 
angry lips pursed. "Above all, I have been treated as a person without judgement, without 
status. Someone who simply does not matter."

"We thought we were being kind--"

"Damn your kindness! You have rendered my position here untenable."

"O, no... no... no! Oh, please--!"

"If you don't keep quite, young woman, I'll have you gagged." Miss Kilroy's nostrils were 
flaring. She was in full stride. "If Aylebury was an ordinary school I would now tender my 
resignation and leave. But it is not an ordinary School. It is a unique Institution founded by 
someone I held in high esteem. She and I have made it what it is." A note of triumph warmed 
the bitter words. "And what it is enables me to mete out a fitting justice." The grey eyes 
delivered their full venom to Philippa Coyle. "I intend to keep you and your companion here 
for at least the full term of your committal. During that time you will both be punished with a 
severity that will stop only short of injury. You will then be freed. I myself will leave Aylebury 
forever on that same day."

Lippa was heartbroken. Her voice was a wail of anguish. "But you mustn't, you mustn't go 
away. We want you... ! Dree and I are both involved in--"

"Quiet, girl!"

"I think Miss Coyle is trying to tell you something." Helen Royd's voice was carefully 
controlled. "You see, she and Miss Laidlaw are emotionally involved in the same needs as all of
us here in this School. Being bound and under discipline fulfills them as it fulfills us. It was 
their motive in coming here: most certainly not to spy."

"Rubbish!"

"To have identified themselves would have rendered their innocent experience 
impossible--"

"I wish to hear no more." Miss Kilroy's voice hardened. "But I am glad they are spiritually 
attuned to our goals. They are about to make discoveries of restraints and pains beyond their 
wildest dreams."

"We won't mind that! Please... we won't mind being punished." Lippa's frustration was in 
every word. "We only want to make you understand."

"I assure you, young woman, you are going to mind. You are going to mind bitterly. As for 
the understanding, do you question my intelligence?"

"Of course not. Ohhhhhh... Oh damn!"

"You are disposed of, Miss Coyle. Kindly keep quiet while I address myself to Helen Royd."

Philippa subsided, defeated. If only she was not chained! Free, she could have dealt with 
this contretemps by forthright acts and decisive statements. After all, she owned the damn 
School, didn't she! Bitterly she recalled her blithe request that her hands be cuffed behind her 
back. The handcuffs and the shackle now made her prisoner in a sense and situation, 
frustrating, frightening and unique. Ruefully, she realised the punishments Miss Kilroy would 
inflict were unlikely to engender a particle of warmth within her sex. She would have to bear 
them cold, and with hate. She listened askance to the Headmistress's disposal of her Games 
Mistress.

"Your comments, Miss Royd?"

"I'll pack and leave. I advise you to allow the owners to do the same."

"Your advice is impertinent. But there is no need for you to go away from Aylebury." Miss 
Kilroy sneered. "From what I learn I would suppose you an obvious choice to take my place."

"You are punishing yourself, not us." Helen affirmed impatiently. "I do not want your 
position and none of us want you to leave. Please stay and carry on as though nothing had 
happened. It's the only sensible course,"

"And I am not sensible?"

"Not in this. You're simply preening your pride."

Miss Kilroy was obviously counting to ten. She dropped another bomb. "I will hold my 
authority to the day I leave. If I order you now to join these two young women in their 
confinement and punishments, suffering both along with them, would you obey?"

"Of course not. It's absurd, pointless."

Jessica Kilroy poised a finger. "You see this button. If I press it three of the older girls will 
come, the prefects. They are intensely loyal to me. Three of them can easily overpower you."

Lippa gasped. She saw the Games Mistress tense in instant comprehension. "Would it 
prove anything?" Helen asked, puzzled. "Offhand, it seems a mean spirited revenge, almost 
vicious."

"It would prove your loyalty. The other two are already under restraint, so have no 
decision. I am curious as to yours?"

"I refuse. I intend to go to the police and end this farce."

"You will not. You know you will not do that."

Helen Royd shifted uneasily. The trap was shadowy but it was there. "These punishments?" 
She asked diffidently. "What form do they take?"

"The usual things, but doubly intensified. At the end of it you will all be well wealed."

"But it's defeating. I could not stay--after!"

"Few will know. For the majority, you are away on Business."

. Helen smiled sadly. "It's an interesting enough concept."

She admitted slowly. "Approached differently I'd have discussed the premise that the 
teachers be subject to certain disciplines. It would not be contrary to whatever is now implicit 
in Aylesbury. A month ago I might have said yes. But today... ! The atmosphere is all wrong."

"I order you to submit yourself for punishment."

Helen sighed wearily. "Press the button. Three Prefects can probably subdue me. But if 
they do not, I will leave and I will do all in my power to release Miss Coyle." The Games 
Mistress looked appealingly at the hurt features beyond the desk. "Surely you realise I would 
have no need, no hunger, certainly no conviction to sustain me in the pain and discomforts 
you propose."

"Then allow me to supply all three." Jessica Kilroy suggested quietly.

Instant attention! The air was electric. Helen's demand was blunt. "How?"

"If you voluntarily submit I will reconsider my position. After your punishment I will remain 
as Headmistress and you will continue as Games Mistress as though this interview had never 
taken place."

No one answered. Nobody spoke. Lippa was breathless, her fists tight clenched within her 
handcuffs. Miss Kilroy continued equably: "As an evidence of my own sincerity I would, 
providing your submission is total and contrite, absolve the younger girl, Miss Laidlaw, from 
the severities I promise you. She can continue as she is, just one of the girls, unaware of what 
you are suffering." Helen Royd grinned sheepishly at a spellbound Lippa. To the Headmistress 
she said, in amused resignation: "Very well. I'll be your prisoner. What do I do now?"

Jessica Kilroy pressed the button. To the girl who answered, she said, simply: "Bring 
handcuffs, Audrey-and that other thing we discussed."

The other thing was a whippy crop. Audrey held both expectantly.

"Remove your clothes, Helen.

As in a trance, The Gaines Mistress slowly stripped. Without a word, she turned and placed
her hands behind her back. She was smiling as though relieved.

The handcuffs clicked.





CHAPTER EIGHT - PUNISHED


Miss Philippa Coyle was excellently situated to assess the potency of loneliness in punishment.
She was not exactly in 'solitary' but the three days had come close. She wryly reflected that it 
was not every girl who got her own private dungeon, well equipped for her discomfort, even 
to a cunningly hidden bathroom. She supposed Helen Royd similarly incarcerated.

There was little to do and little to see, except herself. Philippa's left leg was the principle 
facet of interest. Its ankle boasted a broad leather band in which there was a ring. In the ring 
there was a hook. The hook was on a rope from a pulley. When Audrey had pulled a rope 
elsewhere, Lippa's left foot had gone up and up, her leg had followed until she lay only on her
shoulders and her bound arms.

That pretty well exhausted the view. Lippa's only occupation was to try and free her 
crossed wrists from the cords binding them together behind her back. She had no success 
with this but there was a constant temptation to tug and twist. She suspected Audrey used 
cord instead of cuffs deliberately. Handcuffs were hopeless, a girl just never wriggled out of 
handcuffs! But roped wrists might be called a prisoner's occupational therapy. They offered a 
false but intriguing hope. Lippa's wrists were well chafed from trying.

There was, of course, Lippa's right leg. Completely free, it was actually a bit of a nuisance. 
No matter what she did with it her right leg was excess baggage. It could not reach the floor 
to help out with the weight and the pain on its twin bearing the strap. To allow it to hang 
produced a vague hurt. To wave it around became a bore. It was best doubled back so its 
knee was not too far from her upturned face. That leg, untrammeled by bonds of any kind, 
was part of her punishment.

Audrey was a saving grace. She was both cruel and kind. Sometimes she would answer 
questions verbally, but mostly she replied to them with her crop. She had been fascinated by 
Lippa's scarlet loins, and continued to crop the same area for her own pleasure. Her captive 
had become aware that punishment usually called for her pubic hair to be prominently 
displayed and her crotch to be frequently inflamed. Audrey had purloined Helen's small 
female cuntwhip and used it with panache.

Lippa's real whipping was still to come. It was going to last a long time and be very 
terrible. It would cover the whole area from her thighs to her shoulders and would be 
administered very slowly so she could absorb it without fainting or traumatic shock. This 
frightful prospect was frequently mentioned. It was one of Audrey's favourite subjects. She 
was able to become breathlessly excited in speaking of how privileged she was in 
administering the stripes to both captives. Audrey radiantly admitted she could hardly wait. 
Lippa realised her constantly inflamed apprehension was also part of her punishment. Audrey 
was clever.

"You see, darling," Audrey informed affectionately, "What I have to do is keep you hurting, 
and the real bad hurts have to be magnified. Those lovely tyings up and gentle whippings 
aren't for you. You must have been a really naughty girl."

"I was. Aren't you curious?"

"Not really. I'm just interested in having you naked and at my mercy. I do have a sort of 
'Terms of Reference' to follow, but it gives me a lot of scope. If I wanted to whip your pussy 
right now, I could. I think that's nice."

"I don't think it's nice. Do you truly enjoy hurting me?"

"Of course. That's why Miss Kilroy picked me: That and because we like each other."

"Aren't you going to be kind to me at all?"

"I'm kind now. We're talking, aren't we! I could be whipping."

"I suppose so. Thank you. But what I meant was: won't there be days when you just 
handcuff me or tie me up or something?"

"So you can get yourself a nice hot pussy cat and maybe play with yourself? No, there 
won't be any of those."

"I haven't much to look forward to, have I?"

"You've got me, darling." Audrey laughed delightedly. "But I'm sure there's times you wish 
you didn't."

"No. You're fun. Even though you like hurting me, I know you do it because you've been 
told to. Miss Kilroy thinks I deserve this. Maybe I do. I just hope I can last out. It's pretty awful 
sometimes-No, I don't mean you! I mean having to lay or stand in constant pain and all alone 
and fixed so I can't do a thing."

"You feel beautifully sorry for yourself. I must be doing a good job. Want me to whip your 
breasts for a little while?"

"Ohhhhhh, A-U-D-R-E-Y... ! No!"

"I just asked, darling. A whipped tit is better than being bored."

"I'm not bored when you're with me." Lippa mourned. "It's all those hours and hours when
you aren't. I lay and hurt and think about being whipped."

"Poor darling." Audrey placed a light hand upon her victim's open sex, and laughed at 
Lippa's gasping response. "I'd do nice things to you but they're specifically forbidden. You 
mustn't have an orgasm the whole time you're being punished."

"That's not fair. I eat you every day."

"No, it's not fair. But you are a prisoner, y'know. Helen doesn't get nice things either. She 
doesn't want to eat me at all, but I compel her to."

"Have you whipped Helen yet? I mean the awful whipping?"

"You were warned about questions, darling."

In writhing dismay, Lippa watched her companion collect the wicked crop. She had learned
not to plead. When she made a mistake she paid for it, like buying something over the 
counter. During the four cuts she now received across her most available bottom she did not 
scream. She gasped. She moaned and made other small sad sounds but that was all. After she 
watched Audrey lay aside the whip she found herself weeping.

"Overtaxed emotions, darling, that's all. One trouble is you've got so much built up lust 
inside you're ready to burst. We think this sort of torture doesn't heat our pants but we're 
wrong. I don't believe you can touch a girl, in certain ways and places, without her generating 
a bit of response." Momentarily Audrey palmed her captive's distorted pussy. "See that! You're
just been hurt horribly and you're wet. Here, lick my hand clean. It's supposed to be the thing 
to do."

Lippa licked busily and without animosity. She was anxious to please, and Audrey was 
sometimes sweet. She was also curious as to how she tasted to herself. She lipped and 
tongued the small hand dry.

"How old are you, Lippa?"

"Twenty-six. I'm too old to be here. I should have known--"

"I'm twenty. We're not all that far apart. But I'm not a bit submissive the way you are." 
Audrey giggled. "I sometimes let the girls play with me--I mean, I don't have silly ideas about 
dignity and all that. But I can understand that being submissive at your age could be 
awkward."

"But I wasn't submissive. Everyone thought I was the opposite. It's this place "Aylebury's 
just brought out the latent sub' in you, darling. All of us learn the damndest things about 
ourselves. If you told my parents I was cruel they'd laugh at you. They think I just have a 
weakness for tying up little girls. In their book that's bad enough. That's why I'm here."

"Can't you go home, or escape?"

Audrey chuckled. "They don't want me home. I'm a problem. I don't sleep with men, so 
they can't marry me off. Not unless they found a willing eunuch and there aren't many of 
them around. I really don't know what's going to become of me. As for escaping, I'd have to 
be crazy. This is heart's desire." Audrey bent down and pinched Lippa's nipples so hard their 
owner screamed. "I don't know where else I could do lovely things like that... Do you?"

"You could come and live with me?"

"You mean you like having your nipples hurt?"

"I don't mean that at all. What you just did hurt horribly. But you sound sort of lost... and I 
like you."

"Gee thanks!" The younger girl laughed, pleased. "But you'd be sorry. I'd tie you up all the 
time and whip you every day."

It was often in Lippa's mind to confess everything to this sparkling girl. Audrey had a way 
with her. Her cruelties were aesthetic and clever. Lippa had a vision of Audrey punishing Helen
as she punished her: It seemed impossible. Surely that mane of tawny hair could not be 
splayed out on the floor while its owner lay naked with one foot strapped and hoisted half 
way to the ceiling! Surely not! Surely Helen's hands were not tied behind her back so she had 
to lay on her arms and amuse herself with chafed wrists! Surely... ! And yet--why not! The 
hoisted girl shed a few more tears of nostalgia. In a recurring panic at immobility Lippa flung 
herself into writhing struggles against her bonds. Tugging, pulling, heaving, raising herself off 
the floor by a tractioned leg and thrusting bound hands. She surprised herself by the amount 
of commotion she contrived. It seemed impossible that something could not break or tear or 
come apart. But nothing did. Exhausted, she lay back as she had been. It was hopeless. She 
would never get away from Aylebury, not ever! Jessica Kilroy would keep her always... ! Again 
she wept.

"It's a fascinating situation. Don't you agree, Helen?"

"Truly fascinating, Audrey. I'm glad you're enjoying me."

"Oh, but I am! Terribly. I say, darling, I hope you're hurting nicely?"

"I'd hope so too." Helen Royd rejoined dryly. "Considering I'm hanging by my thumbs with
my feet off the floor."

"You're so beautiful. I wonder if I'd look that lovely hanging by my thumbs. Will you do it 
for me sometime? Just a little?"

"With pleasure."

"Yeah, I bet! You're probably building up a real hate."

"No I'm not. I'll do it for you, Audrey. Hanging this way with your arms apart is immensely 
flattering for a girl's figure. You have to discount that."

"You were yummy, yummy before I hung you up, darling. And that hair of yours... ! 
Mmmmmm!"

"Forgive me, dear, if I'm a little distrait. This is something else! Oh, dammit, it's bad. Did 
Kilroy suggest it?"

"It's one of the things on the list. I'll show you if you like?"

"Never mind. I wouldn't want to see the rest."

"It's ever so interesting. Golly, you must really have got her upset?"

"Obviously. I say, Audrey, have I got to stay like this all day?"

"Unless you can get loose.."

"Very funny. Audrey dear, couldn't you stretch a point? Maybe a box under my feet for five
minutes in the hour?"

Unhappily, Helen Royd watched her jailer pick up the crop. "I shouldn't have asked that 
'eh? How many do I get for asking?"

"Count them, darling."

The Games Mistress of Aylebury Court longed for total control, for the same poise with 
which she disposed the affairs of Her Class. Cool, composed, a little aloof. But, naked, with 
Audrey it was only a pretty conceit. She might hold back the screams... but there would be 
demeaning sounds... and she would do things with her legs. Moaning, she gasped in agony as
each stripe was planted across her back. One... two... three... four! Instead of number five it was
Audrey's voice.

"Your back this time, darling. I've given your bottom a rather bad time already."

Ashamedly, Helen realised one of her feet was still kicking, raising itself up and down 
against its twin as though seeking comfort. Angrily, she forced it to keep still, for both to hang
limply but less painfully. "I'm sorry about the noises." She apologized. "I do try and clench my 
teeth, but you whip so hard I just can't. A few more strokes and I'd have been screaming."

Audrey nodded understanding. "You're really quite something, Helen. You'll never have to 
apologize for anything, not to me. Hanging by their thumbs the way you are, most girls 
wouldn't be talking rationally. If anyone's going to make me ashamed of what I am, it's you."

"Thank you, Audrey."

"Would you believe I used to have a crush on you?"

"All the girls have a crush on the Games Mistress. It's the bare legs and seeing other bits of
us in the locker Room."

"Well... perhaps. But in these days when I've had you all to myself to punish and hurt, and 
whip, I'm consumed by wonder. Over and over a voice keeps saying: "You've got her! You've 
got her!"

"We're all of us lesbians, Audrey. Lesbians are a possessive breed, and you possess me 
utterly. You can do what you want with every nipple and crevice that's Me. Why haven't you 
touched me? I mean, touched me like a girl? Kilroy's orders?"

"Yes." The younger girl made a motion of regret. "In a way, she's punishing us both. I want 
you so bad it hurts."

"This bad time for me will pass, y'know, Audrey--At least, I suppose it will."

"What if I told you it would not." Audrey's eyes were lambent. They fed upon the 
suspended nudity of Helen Royd with a hunger still unappeased. "Have you considered how 
easily you could be kept chained and tied in this chamber the rest of your life?"

The strained breasts expanded under the shock of an indrawn breath. "Yes, I've 
considered." She looked past her raised bare arm at the watching girl. "Do you know 
something, Audrey?"

"No. But I have wondered. I'd love to tease you by telling you you're imprisoned for life."

"Why don't you? I'd believe."

"I suppose because you're still my Games Mistress, and I had a crush on you, and I'm 
terribly ashamed of what I'm doing but I love it and I'm not going to stop. See how mixed up I
am?"

"You're the least mixed up girl I know. Audrey, am I permitted to ask about Lippa?"

"No. But she hasn't been whipped yet, if that's what you want to know. She asked that 
about you."

"Audrey, have you any idea how awful this is-a girl being hung up by her thumbs?"

The suspended girl moaned as a small hand inserted itself between her thighs. Sensation 
was intense, an instant incandescence. Helen's head reared back between her tractioned arms,
her nostrils flared.

But the hand was gone as quickly as it came. Her moans were now of protest. The most 
eloquent pleading her voice could contrive. Audrey laughed delightedly. "Part of the 
punishment for naughty girls. I'm going to get myself out of temptation and leave you alone. 
If I stay here I'll eat you."

Helen knew herself in the very nadir of subjection. Intermittently she moaned as though 
Audrey was still present. It helped and was the only relief she dared seek. Motion was out. Any
movement added to the agony of her thumbs and arms. She made her breathing shallow, 
denying expansion of her breasts in the luxury of the sighs she longed to make. She wished 
Jessica Kilroy would come and look. Complacent satisfaction in the Headmistress might justify 
the pain. But to be hung by her thumbs and ignored... ! No doubt disinterest was part of what 
she was intended to suffer. Kilroy would be sure to do things right.

She was surprised by the severity of her punishments. They were forms of non-injurious 
torture. If a male was inflicting them she would be distraught and deathly frightened. But 
Audrey possessed The Magic. The Magic touching all within Aylebury Court. The Magic by 
which she would survive the day. She was constantly impelled to lean forward and look down 
at her own suspended nudity. She was hanging limply, placing no extra stress on her thonged 
thumbs. Even the act of looking past her breasts hurt. Helen wondered if she would have 
delivered herself to punishment had she known.

Within her consciousness of wonder at her predicament something nagged. It was more 
than an irritation with herself that she had allowed this to happen. She had been intrigued like
a silly girl playing with fire. The bum did not matter, but a new awareness of herself did. Helen 
Royd had never labelled herself. The words: 'dominant' and 'submissive' floated around the 
school in a matter-of-fact acceptance that some girls were this and some that, much in the 
manner of acknowledging a blonde or a brunette. It was Lippa who had made, for her, 
positive distinctions. Lippa had been radiantly and passionately submissive to Helen's 
dominance. Each had fallen into their role by some force of feminine gravity. That Lippa had 
been as adult as herself and surprised at her own docility had to be significant.



The nude and tortured girl, suspended in pain, examined the premise that all females were
essentially submissive. Touch any of them in the right place and they would kneel. Whip them 
enough and they would slough off the pretense of a third sex immune to sex itself and revert 
to tears and the exposure of their loins.

So what of herself! She was a lesbian Games Mistress whose girls were junior to her 
eminence and worshipped her accordingly. Helen had been happy at Aylebury and taken the 
place as it came. But then had come Lippa, and now Audrey! She was mature enough to know
she adored them both. That was the nice thing about being lesbian, it was an endless sharing. 
But where did this leave her! When the Kilroy punishments were over and she was released, 
would she have to ask: 'Who is Helen Royd?' At that moment she knew it a question she could
not answer. When her musings were terminated by the quiet entrance of Jessica Kilroy her 
captive spirit burgeoned in pleasure. Her secondary sensation was a blushing shame .in 
nakedness... nakedness punished.

"Good afternoon, Helen."

"Good afternoon, Miss Kilroy."

The polite exchange would have been absurd with anyone other than the woman now 
examining the curves of suspended nudity. "I would suppose that posture extremely trying?" 
The question was still politely casual.



"Beyond words. It is a form of torture."

A breath exhaled in a long "Ahhhhh yes. But you bear it well."

"I have to."

"In the sense that you are helpless. Yes, of course! Has pain diluted your purpose, Helen?"

"Yes... I'm sorry."

"But you are happy." It was not a question.

"Am I-Am I! I I Oh, Miss Kilroy, I don't know, I just don't know."

"I know."

Helen Royd was willing to believe Jessica Kilroy did know. She always knew. At this 
moment she had the advantage of not hanging naked from her thumbs. Feebly and evasively 
she rejoined: "I'm sorry you have to see me naked like this."

"Don't be ridiculous. You are glad. Any girl with a body as beautiful as yours has to be 
glad." The Headmistress made a slow circle round her punished Games Mistress and asked 
without emphasis: "Would you like to be released?" Helen knew a vast relief. To have her feet 
lowered to the floor... ! Pure ecstasy... ! "Yes, I would." She admitted slowly. "But that wouldn't 
prove anything, would it! I'd be grateful if you'd just give me a rest. A few minutes with my 
feet on the floor? I wouldn't struggle. I'd let you hoist me again?"

"You make me very proud of you."

"Was your question rhetorical, Miss Kilroy? I--I mean, would you have...?"

"No, I would not. You are committed to punishment. I have given Audrey carte blanche. I 
will not interfere. Ask her about your rest. I will not give it to you."

"Neither will she."

"Then you will continue to hang, my dear."

"Is forgiveness a part of this? Could I ask--?"

"You were forgiven long ago, Helen. But your punishments will run their course."

The taut nudity sighed. "Yes, I suppose... I suppose that's as it should be. I don't want to be
weak."

"I suppose you have fallen in love with Audrey? It is a common reaction between the 
whipper and the whipped. Did she tell you of the real whipping awaiting you?"

"Yes. It frightens me, but I can't do anything about it so I try not to think of it."

"It will be a graphic experience in pain, Helen. I intend to be present."

"No--Oh no!" The delinquent felt trebly shamed. "Please, Miss Kilroy, don't come and 
watch me like that. I'll behave so terribly, I'll be so ashamed."

"As have a million other girls when whipped. I do not ask you to be Stoic."

They viewed each other in silence. Helen felt she was being truly seen for the first time, a 
frightened little girl determined to earn the approval of an elder. "I'll never be able to give an 
order again." She said pathetically.

Jessica Kilroy produced a small amused laugh. "I'm not sure you aren't revelling in yourself.
You're getting a warm erotic sustenance by wallowing in punishment. It's not masochism, just 
sensuality. I have no intention of testing, but I'm sure your secretions are in flood. Think 
there's a chance that, hanging there like that, you're meeting Helen Royd for the first time."

"Perhaps. I don't know. Ohhhhh... Oh, this hurts so damn bad. I'm... I'm sorry--"

"I don't know what for. I think it's this latent humility coming out. Why not explore yourself
properly? When the time comes I'll summon the whole school and have you whipped in 
public?"

"No! Oh nooooooh!"

"Think about it, Helen."

Once more she was alone.

Five days were past. They were like money in the bank. Lippa cherished each one. They 
could not fail to bring her closer to her whipping and to freedom. Freedom, after these 
punishments, would seem unreal. Today's punishment itself seemed unreal. Throughout, her 
sentence they had become progressively more severe, always just beyond the line of 
tolerance. To a widely smiling Audrey she complained: "Not all day? Not like this!"

Audrey thoughtfully checked the wide softly lined bands upon each wrist. She was pleased
by the way in which they had held tight without slipping as Lippa's weight had placed it's 
burden on their grip. Her fingers ran softly down the taut strained arms, lingered lovingly 
upon the nape of a captive neck, across hurt shoulders, and then to the moist armpits 
flattened by stress to a new and lovely symmetry. "Of course all day, darling." She assured 
affectionately. "It's just that you haven't seen this one before. I think it's sweet, and you look 
yummy."

"I look horrible, distorted, split, and I'm sure I look silly too. Oh, Audrey, don't be mean."

"That complaint is punishable, Lippa."

"Go ahead and punish me then! I still think this is no way to tie a girl. Is my pussy wide 
open?"

"Your pussy is purring. I'd make it purr more if it wasn't forbidden."

"I wish you would. No one would know. I need a bit of comfort before I split up the 
middle."

"Such a lot of fuss because your legs are spread! So silly! This will probably do your lower 
half a lot of good." Audrey's fingers evoked moans of pleasure from her victim as they 
imparted a tracery of sensation upon the separate cheeks of a girlish bottom, around each 
girlish groin, lingering wickedly upon the furred sex, and then following the stressed contours 
of a pointing leg to where another leather band imposed its will. From it a rope was tethered, 
bow string tight, to a post. The fingers explored the captive ankle, testing the bond. Then 
followed the trembling limb back to the juncture of Lippa's thighs, and on to the other ankle 
similarly pinioned. Suspended and obscenely spread, Lippa moaned from the tactile tease. 
When it ceased, she pleaded pantingly: "Don't stop. Oh, please don't stop."

"Naughty, naughty." Audrey retrieved her fingers. "You see, you're actually enjoying this 
immensely."

"No I'm not. Everything hurts."

"You do exaggerate so." Audrey chided. "How about I use the dear little cuntwhip up and 
down your thighs? When I stop you'll feel better?"

"Nooooo--No! Oh, Audrey!"

"You make the cutest exclamations. I'm not sure that wasn't an invitation to whip you."

"Well, it wasn't! I don't want to be whipped. Not ever."

"Suppose I use the little whip on a breast? You can choose which one?"

"You wouldn't! Oh, Audrey, you mean you actually would?"

"I don't know why not. Gee, Lippa, you get yourself all panicky."

"So would you if you were spread out naked like I am and couldn't move."

"If I whipped your pussy you'd move like crazy."

"So alright, I'd move! Audrey please, don't tease." Audrey smiled lovingly. Her voice was 
feline. "Returning to the matter of your breasts, dear: which one would you like me to whip?"

"Neither."

"Lippa darling, don't be tiresome. You're beautifully tied. I can whip any part of you I like. I 
don't even have to ask."

"D'you think I don't know that! Oh, Audrey, you've got me so beastly helpless!"

"I'm going to give one of your lovely breasts five lovely splats with our lovely little whip, 
Lippa. If you refuse to choose which one, I'll choose it for you and give it ten."

"No don't! It hurts horribly. Please don't?"

"Fifteen?"

"Oh very well! My right."

"Your right what, darling?"

"Please give my right breast and nipple five strokes with the little whip, Audrey."

"Well, well, well! A bit sullen and resentful but very nicely done. Would you like me to 
start?"

"Yes please."

"You see! You can be a model prisoner if you try."

Lippa tilted her head back between her raised aims. She closed her eyes, hating the pain 
and the place where it would be administered. She had never felt more cruelly exposed. When
the first blow fell across the soft protuberance of her breast she yelped plaintively and 
moaned without protest.

"It marks beautifully, Lippa. Such a darling breast!"

The pain was hateful. But the suspended girl whose feet were stretched in a straight line 
from post to post knew it could be worse. The little cuntwhip was a delicacy between girls. 
They would use it on each other with female wisdom and female cruelty. As the slender 
thongs bit into her most treasured curves for the second time she heaved against her tethers 
with a vigor she had thought impossible. Her breast moved but little, absorbing its spreading 
scarlet and generating its nipple to a hard red point.

"I wish you could see yourself." Audrey enthused. "You're the loveliest thing ever. I adore 
whipping you."

Audrey was a force, an element. She could not be hated. Try as she might, Lippa could feel 
only affection for the girl who was whipping her. In a little while the five strokes would leave 
her breast red and tender and glowing with heat, a heat that would spread and spread until 
her loins too were afire. But the Kilroy edict would deny relief. There would be no climax, no 
flowering orgasm. Audrey's fingers would not enter her, Audrey's tongue would not thrust to 
tease. Lippa's moans were now of longing, a longing which even through the night she could 
never appease. She was always chained in such ways as to prevent the touching of her secret 
parts. Sometimes, in mischief, Audrey would shackle her by only a wrist or an ankle or her 
neck. But at such times the captive suffered a chain mesh chastity belt locked upon her hips. 
That area of it prisoning her pubic hair was spiked with small sharp points to discourage 
enterprising fingers. It was not the worst, but it was also not the least of Lippa's punishments.

The third breaststroke got her past half way. Lippa had learned to comfort herself with 
such small optimisms. A girl had to. If she did not she would scream outrageously and be 
shamed. She fought her straps instinctively, but she fought the pain with the assurance there 
were now only two more strokes to go.

"Enjoy having your breast whipped, darling?"

"Yes, Audrey. Thank you."

The absurd exchange had become mandatory. To be sulky and not play only earned her 
more stripes, so Lippa played. It made her pain no worse, but it did underline the growing 
bond between the two girls. Despite Audrey's insouciant inflictions of torture there had 
flowered for them the beginnings of love. For one to touch the other was an electric shock.

"That was one of your nicest 'thank yous,' darling. I'm almost tempted to whip your pussy 
so as to get another one.

"I can't stop you." Lippa mourned. "But you haven't finished whipping my breast yet."

Two swift blows! One biting into the upper slope, the other cutting up and under the lower
curve. Miss Philippa Coyle screamed, then gasped: "I'm sorry. I do try not to. I hate myself."

"Don't be silly. You have a lovely scream. You should use it more often." Audrey tantalised 
the red hurt nipple she had just whipped. "Darling, I've been meaning to ask... That girl, Dree? 
Do you treat her the way I treat you?"

"Good Heavens, no!"

"But there is a thing between you?"

"Yes. I'm her guardian. She's been sentenced to captivity until she's twenty-five."

"But she loves it?"

"She adores it. I keep her prisoner but I don't torture her."

"Don't you even whip her a little?"

"Oh, yes, that. But never to cut her skin."

"I've never cut your skin, Lippa."

"No, and I'm grateful. But this awful whipping I have to have... ? I don't see how I can get 
through that without being cut?"

"Just trust me. But Lippa, this sweet little Dree of yours? I'm curious. Whatever made the 
two of you come here?"

"Stupidity. Look where its got me."

Audrey was intrigued. "But you came here as a submissive, and with your eyes wide open, 
and you're twenty-six...?"

"Yes, I'm old enough to know better. I'm furious with myself. Whip my other breast please."

"You really are cheesed off with yourself, aren't you! No, I won't whip your other breast. 
You're not allowed to ask." The younger girl pondered the stretched and bound nakedness 
delivered to her mercy. "But hasn't something occurred to you, Lippa dear? You're still seeing 
yourself in the boss role. The way you are with Dree. I can't see that. To me you're about as 
submissive as a girl can get."

Miss Philippa Coyle shook her head in bafflement. "This place has shattered me." She wryly
admitted. "I don't know which end is up any more."

"When Kilroy releases you, what will you do?"

"Go home with Dree--"

"You'll never pick up the pieces, y'know."

"I have to. I won't let Dree down."

"How about me going home with Dree and you staying here?"

"I don't want to stay here and be tortured every day."

"You wouldn't be--just nicely chained and tied."

"And nicely flogged too, I expect." Philippa was bitter in her bewilderment. "Oh, Audrey, 
there's so much you don't know!"

Audrey laughed. "I know about you and Helen Royd. So does Miss Kilroy. The way you two
look at each other... ! You poor dear! I see what you mean. You've really got yourself into a 
mess. What you need is a nice quiet dungeon."

"I'm in a nice quiet dungeon now." Lip pa admitted. "And I want to get out."

"You may be twenty-six, Lippa, but I don't think you know half what I know. When you've 
been freed and forgiven, why don't you have a nice heart to heart talk with Miss Kilroy? 
Kilroy's really shockingly wise."

"She's also shockingly angry with me."

"But by that time you'll be so wonderfully covered in whip weals and so sweetly penitent 
she'll have to feel sorry for you."

"Aren't I sweetly penitent now?"

"You're angrily penitent. There is a difference. Tell you what, dear: I'll take you to her all 
naked and chained so she can see how severely you've been punished and the beneficial 
effect its had on you."

"I'll probably be sullen and frightened." The older girl shook her head wearily from side to 
side. "I can't get rid of the fear Kilroy will keep me prisoner, that she won't free me at all. She 
was terribly angry and treated me like an object, an object to be disposed of in some 
disagreeable fashion out of the way."

Audrey grinned and shook her head over some wise knowledge of her own. "You're 
thinking of "The prisoner of Chillon" or the "Prisoner of Zenda" or whatever it was. Darling, it's 
an intriguing thought to have you tucked away for life. Gosh, the things I could do to you!" 
Her voice lost its banter and became suddenly sharp. "Are you sure your fear doesn't come 
from wishful thinking?"

"I'm very sure." Lippa wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I'm not sure what I am. But I don't 
want to be chained in a dungeon for the rest of my days--even with you for my jailor."

"Hmmmmmm... well, alright." Audrey tidied the helpless girl's hair, her tone reflective: "In a
week you'll probably be gone, and I'll miss you terribly. But I do sort of sense Miss Kilroy's got 
something up her sleeve for you. I expect there is a lot I don't know. But there's probably 
things you don't know either.

With that, Miss Philippa Coyle was forced to be content. She spent the rest of her day in 
painful loneliness. Suspended from her wrists she could do nothing. Her legs would have been
a ballet dancer's delight. From her loins they took a straight line in opposite directions. The 
anklets held them there. Her pussy was in constant heat from an expectation of Audrey's 
return with her whip. When night came and the younger girl locked the shackles on the bed, 
Philippa waited until she was alone. Then fought with all her strength. But, no matter how she 
twisted and contorted in her chains, her finger could come no closer than within six inches of 
her clitoris.

Contrived shock! Then the abyss of confrontation. Audrey was clever. It was not until Miss 
Philippa Coyle's wrists had been raised and strapped to the overhead bar that significance 
dawned. When her feet were spread and tied down to rings in the floor it became obvious: 
She was now a nude female body postured for a purpose.

"Oh, Audrey... ! This is it! It is, isn't it?"

"Yes, darling."

"You're going to whip me? In the awful way?"

"Poor dear Lippa! Are you really truly frightened?"

"I'm petrified. What girl wouldn't be."

"You look so sweet. It's a lovely pose. And don't worry. I'll keep your hair tidied and dry 
your tears. Kilroy hates seeing a girl untidy while being whipped."

"You never told me! You mean she's going to watch you whip me!"

" 'Fraid so, dear. You must have half expected...?"

"Yes. I suppose I did." Lippa admitted ruefully. "It's being made a ceremonial affair... Is that 
it?"

"Yes, that's it. Are you comfy?"

Lippa understood the query. "That means I'm going to stand like this all day." She tested 
the straps on her wrists and the ropes binding her ankles. Her heels were firmly on the 
ground. Her arms were raised and fastened as though she was reaching. She was not 
stretched. Small movement was possible. She would be able to writhe and undulate beneath 
the lash. As was usual with Audrey, it was clever. "Yes." She agreed forlornly. "I'm comfy, and 
helpless, and frightened."

Audrey did the unusual. She kissed her captive's burning lips and admonished softly:

"Remember this, it's important. Don't panic. Don't be certain you're going to die. You are 
not going to be flogged with a cat-o-nine-tails or a knout."

Philippa stood, a passive 'X' within her bonds. By the standards of her punishments this 
could have been an easy day. But her mind was in turmoil. Constantly she peeped back over a 
bare shoulder, fearful the first blow might cut her unaware. It was in such a glance that Jessica 
Kilroy came into view. The Headmistress carried a chair.

"Good morning, Miss Coyle."

"Good morning, Miss Kilroy."

It was as though they were swordsmen saluting each other before the duel.

"You are feeling fit, I hope?"

"Fit to be whipped... ? Yes, I suppose I am."

"Excellent. Your day will be taxing."

"I'm sure it will!" Philippa Coyle could not keep bitterness from her words. "I had not 
bargained for your presence."

"You do not want me to watch you whipped, Miss Coyle?"

"I most certainly do not! It's shameful enough without--"

"You are concerned about shame... ! Well! In your position I would be thinking of more 
positive sensations."

"Please, Miss Kilroy, forgive me this whipping? You easily could. I am totally in your power. 
I don't deserve a punishment this terrible." Lippa was trembling.

"You deserve it." The statement was flat. "Let me test your skin."

Captive nostrils flared wide as the Kilroy hands slid down captive flesh, from raised arms 
across flattened armpits and down the flanks of the girl tied for whipping. "You are trembling, 
my dear. I do not blame you."

"Please. Do not have me whipped. Please...?"

"Such sweet and heartfelt pleading has a certain erotic charm, Miss Coyle. But please, do 
not be tedious." The Headmistress set her chair to obtain a frontal view. "I may move this from
time to time. But, as the first blows fall, I want to watch your face."

"Lippa and I are ready, Miss Kilroy." It was Audrey's voice.

Another instinctive glance back. A smile of tenderness. Audrey held a whip... ! Miss 
Philippa Coyle was no authority on whips. She supposed it neither the kindest or the crudest. 
It was a whip! Lippa turned back to behold Jessica Kilroy's interested regard. She bowed her 
head. She closed her eyes.

In telling of the whipping of a naked girl the old and hackneyed phrases fall too easily 
upon the pen. Whipping her is a physical act. It will bruise her skin, it may cut her flesh and 
draw blood. It will excoriate. It will raise welts that will change color as they subside and leave 
her with marks she may bear for many days, or for weeks, or for life. If the whipper is gentle 
there may be only pink lines, fading easily and imparting not agony but the heat of lust.

There are reactions. The maiden will respond as her skin is lashed. But here too the 
descriptive words are threadbare. A girl being whipped will do many things. She will clench 
her teeth. She will moan. Eventually she will scream. She will writhe, contort, and wriggle 
against her bonds. She will plead. She will shed her tears. Most girls do all.

It was thus with Miss Philippa Coyle. Bewildered and bereft, she worked her pain strewn 
passage down the ancient path of female agony. Mostly she closed her eyes. When she 
opened them there was always the intent and clinical observation of the Headmistress to turn 
from in shame. Lippa preferred to take her anguish in the dark rather than bare it through her 
stricken eyes. Only when the whipping stopped did she pick up spoken words.

"Ten strokes, Miss Coyle. Congratulations! You did not scream until the sixth."

Ten! Only ten! Lippa had lost count of everything. She had not realised the fortitude of 
silence or the shame of screams. It took her moments to believe the panting heaving breaths 
were her own. She was sure of only one thing: the whipping was not over, it could not be over.

"Poor darling! She's glistening with sweat. Look at her! Droplets form in her armpits and 
trickle... " Audrey's exclamations were an ebullience of wonder and delight.

"She is an exquisite subject." Miss Kilroy sounded pleased.

They went away.

What now! The fastened girl tugged fretfully at her strapped wrists. Hints and memory 
returned. The ten strokes were the clue. She was to receive ten strokes an hour. In the interim 
she must stand and think and anticipate the passage of sixty minutes during which her pain 
would modify and her flesh regenerate for the whip's return. Ten strokes in each hour! But 
how many hours! How long would be her day! If her day was to be eight hours she would 
receive eighty strokes. So many lashes would lattice her skin from shoulders down to knees. 
But she could not bear so many. It was not possible for a girl... ! Her only solace was in the 
flexing of her limbs. Lippa was glad she was not stretched.

"Water, darling." Audrey's voice was loving. "Here, I'll hold it up. Drink it. I want to see you 
sweat. You're gorgeous."

She drank the water gratefully. She did not care about sweating. If her glands bedewed 
her with the sweat of agony, Lippa would not be as fastidious as she might once have been. 
She smiled and said 'Thank you, Audrey. That was nice.' Then Audrey commenced to whip her 
for the second ten.

Bafflement again! As a voice counted slowly and the thong cut at her bare skin, Lippa 
became aware that this ten were no worse than the first. But she was not in panic. She 
screamed steadily but nourished a faint comprehension that perhaps she might not die. The 
panic of the first stripes was a prelude to the greater symphony still to come. But if she could 
survive the prelude... !

"Isn't she sweet, Miss Kilroy!" Audrey's voice was fresh, eager, tender with sympathy. "I'd 
no idea whipping a girl made her so much more beautiful. See how she droops forward and 
hangs her head when the whipping stops. The pain makes her tired, and I think she's 
ashamed... "

"I am pleased with you both, Audrey. Freshen the poor thing up before you leave her."

A fresh damp facecloth, a drink of something that burned on its way down, a comb in her 
hair, and a dry towel coping with the tears she knew not she had shed. Then loving hands 
vigorous on her body and beneath her arms, towelling away her sweat. It would return later, 
but while she waited for the whip she would be dry. Before the hands departed she was 
kissed.

It was after Lippa had received thirty strokes they brought in Dree.

Agony! Gall and wormwood! Utter shame. Panting and sweating, Lippa beheld her love. 
Dree was gagged, heavily gagged with ball and tape and straps. Behind her back, handcuffs 
clasped her wrists. Audrey sat her in the chair vacated by the Headmistress, jerked her arms 
over its back, and bound her tight at arms and ankles and the handcuffs cinched down to a 
rung. All Dree could do was gaze in agony at what she had been brought to see. Jessica 
Kilroy's instruction was precise: "Miss Coyle, you will inform Miss Laidlaw of your offence and 
its punishment. Please do so now. I have to leave quite soon."

Philippa was tense against her bonds, loathing this moment and all it held. Her obedience 
was mechanical. She knew that whatever they wanted, she would do.

"Dree... darling. Don't be frightened. I'm being whipped. It's part of a punishment I agreed 
to. It's because we came to Aylebury. It was wrong, a mistake. We hurt Miss Kilroy grievously 
by seeming to spy, by being deceitful and underhand. We did not come and visit her as we 
should have done. We did not even write. We were selfish and came here for erotic 
excitements... thinking only of ourselves."

Lippa paused. It sounded so stilted, so much like a confession extracted by torture. 
Unhappily, she added: "It's me who's being punished because I'm the older, I'm your guardian.
I should have known better. It was wrong to bring you here or come myself." Her voice 
became piteous. "Dree darling, you mustn't be frantic at what you see. I didn't want you to see
me like this. But I expect Miss Kilroy believes you should... I'm sorry."

Jessica Kilroy's voice was almost warm. "Yes, that will do. Come, Audrey. The girl can watch 
Miss Coyle whipped through her next quota. Then take her away."

Two girls, each helpless, stared at each other in shock. Lippa could speak but what was 
there to say! Dree flung her head this way and that in passionate rebellion against her gag. 
Defeated, she struggled furiously against her bonds. The bonds held. "I love you terribly, 
Dree." The whipped girl said simply.

Beneath the rucked up fabric of the school tunic, Dree's heavily haired pubic triangle 
declared itself as a promise now denied.

Helen Royd slept on her stomach. A collar and chain secured her to her bed. Her wrists 
were handcuffed behind her back. Despite protest, a chastity belt was locked upon her loins.

"But, Audrey, with my hands locked behind my back I can't reach myself!"

"You can straddle something, darling, and work up friction. Think I don't know the tricks."

"Alright. If you're going to make me wear the belt you don't need to handcuff me."

"For a girl who's just been whipped you're being too much like a Games-Mistress, darling."

"I wasn't whipped for complaining, Audrey. I was whipped for something else entirely. And
I'm not sure you had to whip me so hard. Gosh, that was awful! I won't be able to lay on my 
back for a week."

"Helen dear, unless you want to be whipped again tomorrow you can stop moaning and 
go to sleep. Just to teach you a lesson I'll put handcuffs on your ankles right now. You won't 
be doing any walking. And... G-O-O-D N-I-G-H-T!"

Hating everything, Helen suffered the bite of the cuffs on her ankles. They did not matter. 
But they were an emphasis telling her of an implacable captivity. She was not going to be 
freed, not ever! She was sure of it. In memory of what she once had been she cried herself to 
sleep.

"Wakie, wakie!" Audrey's fingers were busy with the chastity belt. In a bustling cheerfulness
she also removed the handcuffs from captive ankles.

Bemused, Helen examined her new day. "Isn't it awful early?" She asked fretfully.

"Darling, you should see your back and bottom! They're gorgeous! If you're not sulky and 
bitchy I may let you look in the mirror. Hold still while I take the chain from your collar."

"Take the collar too."

"Naughty, naughty! You wear the collar. It looks well on you. And your hands stay behind 
your back."

The captive Games Mistress sat up, wincing. She longed to tidy her hair but could not. She 
tugged irritably at the steel upon her wrists, and complained: "Everything stays, doesn't it, 
including Me?" j "Why not! You're a model prisoner."

"I was. I'm not now. I'm beginning to hate everything. I want out."

"You'll feel better after bath and breakfast, dear."

"No, I won't. You'll bathe me and you'll feed me. I'm not allowed to have hands... These 
lousy handcuffs!"

"Would our lovely Games Mistress enjoy another whipping today? You're going the right 
way about it, Helen."

"No, she wouldn't! Audrey, that was damn awful yesterday, the way you cut at me with 
that beastly whip." Helen stood up, flexing her pains. It is early, Audrey! Are Lippa and I 
starting longer torture days?"

"You're not to use that word. You're being punished, not tortured. Miss Kilroy is pleased 
with you both. She says you are visibly building character." Audrey informed complacently. 
"Now, get into that bath and stop beefing." The tawny haired beauty sniffed but obeyed. She 
had noticed Audrey's positioning of the riding crop across a chair. "Hasn't it occurred to you 
that if I ever do get freed you and I will have scores to settle?" She asked without anger.

"Too big an if to worry about, darling. In the meantime I've really truly got you, haven't I! If 
it wasn't for Miss Kilroy I'd own you completely. I'd never, never let you go."

Their eyes met without illusion. Gentle hands soaped and laved the female contours they 
had whipped the day before. The two girls understood each other perfectly. It was in keeping 
with their mood that Audrey said: "I'm going to soap your cunt, Helen. I'm going to soap it 
good. But don't get ideas. Once you start to pant, I'll go on to the next bit." The soapily wet 
Games Mistress said nothing. But, hopefully, spread wide her captive legs.

"I feel so damn silly." Lippa mourned. "Standing to attention like this, naked, collared and 
handcuffed."

"And in Miss Kilroy's office." Dree giggled. "It's indecent. Three pussies and six breasts all 
pointing at an empty chair. Do you think we dare...?"

"No, we daren't!" Helen snapped. "Someone's probably listening at the door to catch us 
with a tongue in a slit. I expect this is a softening up process for something hateful. We must 
have been standing on parade for half an hour."

"Isn't this the day we get set free?" Dree asked hopefully. "After that awful thing they did 
to you two yesterday--" The door opened. "Sorry, darlings, I forgot these." Audrey held up 
chains. Swiftly, she knelt and shackled six ankles, "the three of you look delectably sweet 
standing like that. Keep your tits pointing." Her exit was as hurried as her entry.

"That answer your question, Dree?" Helen Royd asked bitterly. She kicked a shackled foot. 
"Freedom's not for us." She looked sideways at her companions. "Lippa, let's try and make a 
deal for her to let Dree go. I can understand her keeping us. But if she's trying to prove 
something she doesn't need the kid."

"I'm not a kid!" Dree rattled her chain. "If they let me loose I'll go straight to David Ripon 
and get you out of here. But they won't ever let me go either. They can't."

The door again. A grinning Audrey. Chain heavy in an eager hand. "You're doing this to us 
on purpose, Audrey." Helen accused bitterly."

"You're so perceptive, Helen dear." Audrey laughed happily. "The three of you are going to
love this--"

"Before you do something else unkind, Audrey, I've something to say." The voice was that 
of the erstwhile Miss Philippa Coyle. It commanded attention. "Audrey, Dree and I are rich, 
very rich. If you will free us from this ridiculous imprisonment we will make you rich too. 
Please, Audrey... Oh please?"

Four statues! Silence! Shock! Then Audrey became Audrey again. "That's a bribe, darling! 
Oh, Lippa, haven't you got more sense!"

"The rest of your life looked after, Audrey? Just unlock these chains and get us clothes... ? 
Audrey, you can, you must!" Lippa's heart was in every word. "We don't want to be prisoners 
for the rest of our lives--punished every day...?"

"I don't know the punishment for bribery, darling." Audrey admitted blandly. "But I'll ask 
Miss Kilroy. I bet it's something pretty bad. Lippa dear, you've been so silly!"

Three naked girls stood stiffly to attention. Lippa wept but did not dare dry her tears. With 
care and devotion Audrey snapped the new chain upon their collars. It joined them as in a 
slave coffle. Four feet of chain from girl to naked girl. The linkage hung limply between them 
as they remained at attention. Audrey shook an admonishing finger at a bereft Lippa as she 
left.

"Really, I am proud." Miss Jessica Kilroy enthused as she took her seat and gazed 
approvingly at the girls in chains. "I believe, between us, we have accomplished something 
unique."

"Are you going to free us?" Helen demanded bluntly, uncaring of consequence. "And 
when?"

Miss Kilroy's voice became cold but unruffled by the interruption. "No, Helen, I am not."

"But it's wrong to keep us prisoners!" Dree flared.

"Would you like to be gagged again, dear?"

Silence. The condemned stood before their judge. Miss Kilroy's tone returned to normal. 
"None of us are the same as when you stood here before. Because of what I have discerned in 
you, Miss Coyle, and you, Helen, and from what I have learned from Mr. Ripon, I have decided 
on a course of action which I have discussed with him, and of which he has given approval. He
has laid down certain conditions to protect your interests. They will be respected."

"You have no right--!"

"Lippa, must I threaten to have you gagged too. Keep quiet."

"Dree is just Dree. We know what to do with her." Jessica Kilroy continued equably. "But 
you two older girls have had a confrontation with yourselves and made discoveries... Is this 
not true?"

They were condemned by silence. Neither could think of the right words. Slowly, they 
blushed. There was a clink of chain. The voice of authority swept on.

"You are both bewildered. I will therefore make a decision for you." Miss Kilroy's voice 
warmed. "You will remain captive in the same sense as Dree is captive, and for the same 
motives and intent. In short, I have reached the conclusion that it is in such captivity your 
future happiness lies. The world would not understand this but we do."

"But I'm one of your Mistresses! I'm thirty-!" Helen Royd clutched at a vanishing identity.

"I don't care if you're eighty. You belong in chains. When it comes to understanding 
yourself you are a silly little girl." The grey eyes swept the linked trio with approval. Miss Kilroy 
was in command. "Your punishments are over. I commend you both for accepting them with 
good grace. Considering their severity you were remarkable." There came a brief pause. "But 
you, Miss Coyle, have a penalty still to pay. You offered a bribe... ! You had best understand 
now that Audrey can not be bribed. She is incorruptible. Audrey is mine."

Miss Philippa Coyle longed to plead. But she was guilty. She had no words. Unhappily, she 
watched the finger touch the button and turned at Audry's entry. Jessica Kilroy's voice was 
silk.

"Ah, Audrey dear. In the matter of the bribe. You will take the girls to a suitable room and 
whip the soles of Miss Coyle's feet."

Shame! To walk with collars linked like slaves! On their return, one of them would limp. 
They were too frightened to speak.

So simple! Lippa face down, her legs raised and bound, her upturned soles poignantly 
eloquent. On each side of her tear streaked face there knelt a naked girl. The chain still joined 
their necks, their wrists were impotent within their chrome.

Miss Philippa Coyle screamed steadily while Audrey whipped the sacrificial soles with her 
crop, going from one to the other with only the briefest pause between. When the others 
protested she whipped them across their shoulders until they promised silence. Dree and 
Helen watched in frightened misery while Lippa threshed helplessly upon the rug and pealed 
her throat hoarse in anguish. As a practical concession at the end, her handcuffs were taken 
from her wrists. Sobbing, and with a free arm finding support on each shoulder of a chained 
companion, Lippa trod her crippled path back to the study.

"You have learned a lesson, Miss Coyle?"

"Yes! Oh, yes...!"

"No, I will not let you sit down. You can stand on your punished feet. It won't kill you. I 
want all three of you to understand the inherent rightness that punishment is implicit in your 
condition. Without punishment, justice or authority dissolves. You need never be harshly 
punished again, none of you. Or you can be punished daily. The choice is entirely yours." The 
Headmistress leaned back comfortably. "Have any of you anything to say?"

"We are afraid to say anything." Helen said weakly. "But I'm curious. Do we get chained in 
a dungeon, or attend Class with the girls?"

"Neither."

Even Lippa tensed, her sobbing checked.

"You are being expelled from Aylebury."

"But how--where?"

"You no longer fit within the policies of this school." Miss Kilroy laughed dryly. "You cannot
expect me to keep a trio of delinquent females in one of our dungeons forever." She paused 
to enjoy their dismay. "No. You will be taken to a place of more permanent captivity."

"You mean for life?" Helen was aghast.

Miss Kilroy shrugged amiably. "Who can tell! Oh, by the way, Audrey, do you have the 
item?"

A round, inch wide, circlet! Silver. Glinting. Audrey held it up before Lippa's anguished 
eyes. "Look at it well, darling. This is the best look you'll ever have." She bent and clasped it 
round the narrow waist. It closed with the snap of finality.

"You will wear it always, Miss Coyle. It cannot be unlocked. When you think of bribery, and 
I am aware of your affluence, it will be a helpful reminder."

"But it's too tight!"

"Good!"

"This way, darlings." Audrey beckoned with her crop. She was bright eyed and decisive. 
"Please don't be silly. I'll only have to whip you some more."

The side entrance. Privacy. A car which Dree and Lippa dazedly recognized as their own. A 
hesitant, clinking procession of chained and naked girls. A door open to the back seat... !

"Take it easy, darling. Handcuffed in front, you can manage."

They managed. They sat back, linked neck to neck, their ankle shackles noisy. Lippa held 
out her hands and watched them cuffed. They looked at each other in disbelief. Helpless!

"Just to keep you safe, dears." Audrey explained brightly as she raised a chain from where 
it was bolted to the floor and snapped on a handcuff's link. Three clicks of locks! Testing, each 
captive found she could raise her joined hands only as far as her lap. She was in perfect 
comfort and complete impotence.

"Good-bye, my dears. Think well of me." Jessica Kilroy nodded to each of them before she 
closed the door. In wonder they watched her go.

"I'm the chauffeur." Audrey placed her crop above the dash and started the motor. "I am 
also your jailer, you wardress and the girl from whom you'll get your punishments. As a special
treat I'll eat all three of you when I get you home."

"Where's home?" Dree demanded wistfully.

"Your home, dear. Surely you recognize the car?"

Wonder! Disbelief! Glory!

"Our own house! With all our lovely things! And you'll keep us prisoners always! Oh, 
Audrey, D-A-R-L-I-N-G... !

Lippa even forgot her hurt feet.


The End
