Candice In Custody
by F. E. Campbell 


I 

The Riding Crop 

Mostly I lunch at shops, and I lunch alone. It gives me a tiny oasis of 
isolation in a hectic day. I had been aware of the watching eyes for most of 
that week but a girl is accustomed to male assessment and so, while 
conscious of the male interest, I paid it no more heed than any other. It 
was not until the forth day, when he interjected himself into the second 
seat at my small table, that I gave him serious attention. I rated him as 
expensively dressed and with good features, his smile was infectious. 

"We've been looking at each other long enough," he said charmingly. "It's 
time we did something about it." His smile enveloped me in a strange new 
warmth. "Since-I first saw you I'm been impelled by the damnedest compulsion 
to whip your bottom." 

That was my introduction to Quinlan Robins. 

It seemed natural he should be there the following day. He had done most of 
the talking and picked up with consummate ease where he had left off the 
previous day. I knew he was deliberately trying to please me by being 
cleverly amusing. When he suggested we dine that evening and then go to bed 
together at his apartment, it was all very much of a pattern, a pattern I 
did not wish to break. 

I allowed his statement about the whipping of my bottom to go unchallenged. 
No doubt it was a clever approach to any girl and sufficiently outrageous to 
arouse curiosity. But I refused to be tempted, if Quinlan Robins wanted to 
toss such remarks into the wind he could pick them up himself, I was not 
going to do it for him. I acted as though the words had not been said, but 
they would not leave my mind, they were an intriguing presence all the time 
we were together and for the rest of the time while I was at work. It was an 
approach no man had ever used on me, why shouldn't I be intrigued. Quinlan 
knew damned well I was withholding comment and, very cleverly, he did the 
same. In his planned seduction he knew all the tricks. 

Quinlan Robins was housed as expensively as he was dressed. I had no idea 
where he made his money and did not care. I enter his tower apartment in the 
full knowledge I would pay the usual price for male admiration. I wanted to, 
I had no qualms. His lovemaking was on a par with all the rest, exactly and 
perfectly right. He led me into a roseate world of wonder and brought me 
back again all in one piece, albeit breathless, sweating and adoring every 
inch of his virility. He had a delightful body and was immensely strong. I 
could tell his was accustomed with naked girls by his familiarity with every 
secret corner I possessed. With Quinlan Robins, girls withheld no treasure, 
he used me to the full. It was in the damp, sweet pungency of aftermath I 
drowsily popped the question. 

"Quin, what did you that first time, that thing about whipping my bottom?" 

"Oh, that." His chuckle told me my voice had sounded scared. "When would you 
like it? Do the thing right, you know. Nothing casual about whipping a 
girl's bottom." 

"It's a ploy, isn't it? You use it to get us interested and the first thing 
we know we're in bed with you." 

"Not really, although I admit it's a good one. No, I'm deadly serious, I 
want to whip your bottom." 

I loved his effrontery and nestled closer to his damp nakedness. "You know 
that's not going to happen, Quin. Girls don't want men to whip their 
bottoms, it's a preposterous idea." 

"Most natural thing in the world," his voice assured me blandly. "And you're 
going to do it, you know. You'll put up a bit of a fuss and pretend you'll 
never do such a thing. But you'll do it, don't ever doubt you'll do it. And 
what's more you're going to ask me." 

It was right there I knew for sure I was going to get my bottom whipped by 
Quinlan Robins. 

Neither of us spoke of it again. Quinlan knew he had planted a seed in my 
mind and was content to let it germinate and I nourished the damned thing 
with feminine curiosity. I kept telling myself it would not happen, that it 
was absurd and outrageous and not to be considered. But a strangely 
comforting voice assured me it was indelibly marked in my future as tomorrow 
and tomorrow and tomorrow. 

Days passed and our lovemaking became increasingly skillful as we adjusted 
to each other. He was unfailingly courteous and an amazingly good talker. He 
kept me endlessly amused. I supposed I recognized most of his little tricks 
by which he kept forever a step ahead of me even though I am not slouch when 
it comes to repartee. After a while I was content to let him lead the way. I 
was falling in love. 

I thought about it a lot but found a comforting contentment in stuff I 
remembered reading about the caning and whipping of bottoms as a preliminary 
to sex. I could understand it being excitingly potent but I was envisioning 
the thing in childish terms and expecting to get, at the worse, a slightly 
pink bottom before I was rolled over on the covers and my legs spread wide. 
The more I thought about it the more I wanted it. 

As usual, Quin was a jump ahead of me. He made specific requests about the 
things I would wear for the theater. He wanted me soignee and slinkily sexy 
in full evening dress. He directed the whole ensemble right on up to a 
choice of perfume and he made me dowse myself with the costly scent in the 
most outrageous places. As I made myself redolent and pungent as for love I 
thought of the effect on those close by in the warm darkness as we gazed 
upon the stage. Quin knew innumerable ways of making a girl aware of being 
female. I had been so engrossed with these sensual preparations of myself 
that I got the damnedest shock when I turned around to my companion to seek 
approval of my perfection. Quin was holding a long, lean riding crop and 
flexing it back and forth between his hands. He laughed at my dismay. 

"Time's come, sweetheart." 

"But Quin, we're going to the theater. I can't possibly undress and I've 
taken such trouble." 

"You're absolutely perfect for the effect I want," he assured me. "We're 
going to do this right. I don't want you naked." 

Once again he was well ahead of me. Unprotesting and eaten with curiosity, I 
allowed myself to be led to the room he had turned into an office. It 
contained a desk. When I saw its shinning uncluttered surface I knew it was 
the alter upon which I would pay my dues. Unhesitantly I said, "Quin, I'm 
not a bit sure about this. I'm scared." 

"And so you should be, honeybunch. You're about to enter a remarkable 
experience." 

I stood there feeling foolish while he flexed the crop and eyed my lower 
curves. I can understand Quin's cleverness in making me dress to the degree 
of perfection which would give his riding crop a wickedly erotic contrast. I 
was trembling. Stupidly, I said, "I don't think I want to go through with 
this." 

He paid no attention, it was as though I had not said a word. He kissed my 
forehead gently and led me, like a bride, to the altar. I knew I should 
break his grasp and turn and run but set the thought aside. Somehow I knew 
if I did that he would never brother with me again. In my heart I knew I was 
were I was as much by my own choice as his. I felt delightfully mesmerized 
as thought from half a dozen cocktails. I had to force myself not to close 
my eyes. 

"At'a girl. Hips against the edge and now lean forward. Stretch out your 
arms above your head." 

Bitterly I told myself, "Candy Cosgrove, you're an absolute idiot!" But I 
did what I was told. 

The rope should have been a shock but it wasn't. When Quin looped my wrists 
with it, strand after strand, and knotted them bitterly tight, I discovered 
only a strange content. The sight of that wicked looking crop had told me 
all too clearly I was about to suffer pain, and I was not at all sure of my 
capacity for enduring stripped skin in impassive immobility. I felt quite 
certain that, left to my own devices, I would leap around and disgrace 
myself. With my hands fastened I would have no choice but to bear this 
bizarre punishment. The only bright spot was my clothes. The riding crop 
would bit far less across the protection of skirt and panties. When Quin 
cinched down by bound hands to the desk leg below, I realized that for the 
purpose he desired I was completely helpless. 

"I'm surprised you don't want me completely naked," I said with a touch of 
bitterness. 

"That would spoil it, sweetheart. Here, let me show you what I mean." 

What he meant was shame, the uncompromising shame a society beauty would 
feel to be held thus and have done to her what Quin was not doing to me. 
Carefully he raised my skirt, folding it upward as he went until it revealed 
my bare skin between panties and bra. He fastened it there with a safety pin 
he had ready. "Feel a draft, darling?" 

"Quin, don't be a bastard. I'm sure you know what this is doing to me. Of 
course I'm ashamed but I've never felt more horny in my life. You knew 
that's the way I'd feel, didn't you?" 

"Can you get loose, Candice?" 

I struggled. I tugged and twisted, more to oblige him than from any hope of 
getting free. I looked up the length of my outstretched arms to my bound 
wrists and dutiful reported, "Of course, I can't get loose. I can't do a 
thing but stay bent over this damned desk and wish I was somewhere else." 

"Good. You look charming. And now for the piece de resistance. I suppose you 
know what comes next." 

I knew! I quivered like a jelly as the firm male fingers inserted themselves 
beneath the band and tugged my scanty panties down to my knees. Cold air 
flooded my thus bare skin as though from as arctic blast. "Take them all the 
way off," I demanded unhappily. "They feel untidy.. . Please, Quin." 

"But a nice effect. I like them as they are. Besides they'll keep you from 
kicking too much. I haven't bothered to tie your feet." 

I understood now his insistence upon garter belt and nylons. I could easily 
imagine what I looked like and the thrill he would get from the indecent 
exposure of my buttocks. I would much have preferred to be totally naked 
than thus exposed in a semi-Victorian salacity. Naturally he palmed my pussy 
and made an appropriately vulgar comment upon its condition. He didn't need 
to feel, I could have told him! 

"And now, my pet, a touch of the risqu'. Tell me how it feels." 

The son of a bitch was endlessly inventive. In anything I'd ever read no man 
had ever thought of using a powder puff on the bottom of a mistress he was 
about to whip. The fluffy object patted and spread its balm upon my shamed 
flesh with a lovely attention to my cheeks. Quin was a past master in the 
art of making a girl love she knew she was going to hate. He gave me a few 
final pats here and there then blew away the excess talc to make me quiver 
anew beneath his warm expulsion of breath. 

"You are now ready, beloved girl." 

"I bet I am!" I turned to glare at him as he again picked up the crop and 
performed the familiar flexing act. Fervently I exclaimed, "You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself." 

"Oh, but I am, darling. I can't possibly let you have all the gorgeous 
sensations. Are you ready for your first taste of erotic pain?" 

"I suppose so. But, Quin, I do wish...." 

Whatever it was I wished was lost and forgotten in the blaze of a pain so 
horrendous as to make me gasp in pure shock and to tear wildly at my bound 
hands. I was vaguely aware of flaying feet and legs, and was momentary 
irritated by the failure of my panties to tear asunder in my urgent need. I 
was so preoccupied with pain I forgot to scream or to say anything. It was 
not until Quin cut at me with his second stroke that we began our lopsided 
conversation, for my part agonized, for Quin amused. 

"Quin, stop it! I'd no idea! I can't possibly stand this." 

I might as well have saved my breath just as I might as well have saved my 
struggles. Both were ineffectual other than to generate male satisfaction. 
Beneath the impossible urgency of number three I tried a different approach. 
"Quin, I don't think you understand. This is too awful for any girl. You 
absolutely must stop and let me up. Please...." 

"You're doing magnificently, dear girl. I think you're afraid you're not 
behaving well, but I assure you a man could ask no more. I'm going to make 
your next one a little harder, you're doing so well." 

I was sure I'd die, no girl could stand such pain and live. I'd never 
imagined such pain until this moment, but now...!" 

"Then have some decency, a little compassion, I simply can't stand it, Quin. 
You must stop, you must!" 

"Getting a hot pussy, darling?" 

"No I'm not! I'm in agony. Oh, Quin, be reasonable...!" 

"Pity you can't see yourself, sweetheart. You're putting on the most 
marvelous show. Damned good thing I tied you hands. And your poor little 
panties...!" His hands were roving across my scolding seat. "Did you realize 
you're rubbing your puss against the desk? Don't stop, I like it." 

By the time number five burned and seared its path across my flesh I was 
abject and probably hysterical. "Quin, I'll do anything you want, anything 
at all. But please don't whip me any more, please don't. I can't bear it." 

He whipped me again instantly, perhaps the crudest cut of all. His voice was 
thoughtful, "You see, dear girl, you can bear it. You bear it very well. I 
think you just had an orgasm in your love affair with my desk, didn't you? 
Don't worry, I won't make them any harder." 

Somewhere dimly in my mind I had supposed he would strike me five or six 
times. I recalled books in which it was always five or six the girl got in 
such punishment. But the fifth came and so did the sixth without any sign of 
pause or halt. In a terrible need to know I implored, "How many, Quin? How 
many?" 

"You don't need to know, sweetheart. Must better for you if you don't. Try 
this one for size." 

I tried it for size. I had to, I had no choice. It was as awful as any of 
the others. I suddenly realized this man could go on beating my bare flesh 
as long as he pleased. He could give me ten, twenty, a hundred strokes and 
there was nothing I could do about it. In this realization I bore the 
seventh and eighth strokes while striving for something effective to say to 
bring the awfulness to a close. But, with his usual cleverness, Quin was 
well ahead of me. Eight was a number no girl could possibly expect. In my 
mind it had to be five or ten or twenty but never eight. I found the 
lengthening pause impossible to believe until the omnipotent male voice told 
me cheerfully, "That's all darling. Just a teaser for your first time." 

I wanted to tell him the first time would be the last. But I was still 
firmly bound and very, very helpless and deemed it wiser to keep silent. I'd 
caught sight of nothing vicious in Quinlan but a girl in my situation had 
best be prudent. He was now running gentle fingers across the weals he had 
planted on my skin, his voice warmly concerned, "Did you enjoy it, 
sweetheart?" 

"Of course I didn't enjoy it. It was awful. Oh, Quin...!" 

"Ah, yes, I can follow that. But how about now, darling. Are you enjoying it 
now?" 

I saw the subtle distinction and became hotly ashamed by a sudden awareness 
of the knowledge shown by the man who just whipped me. Damn it! He was 
right. The heat filling by curves beneath his questing hand was a 
quintessence of pleasure I had never known. But grudgingly I conceded only, 
"Yes, I suppose you're right, it is a beautiful relief that it's over." 
Quickly I added, "And to save you asking I'll tell you now, sure I'm horny 
as all get out. Please take me to bed." 

"But darling, we're going to the theater." 

"Damned the theater, take me to bed. Please, Quin.. . ? " 

Quinlan did not take me to bed. He did not untie me. My wrists were hurting, 
and I complained about them and how needless it was to keep me tied. But he 
was in no hurry and seemed more concerned in fingering my burning bottom 
than in anything else. I was feeling increasingly ashamed, and what was 
worse, damned untidy. I wanted to go to the little girl's room and cry. But 
Quinlan insisted on going through all the motions in reverse. First the 
gradual, slow inching up of my panties to finally envelope my demanding sex. 
He did this with much attention to detail and needless pantings and 
pullings. Then there was the lowering of my skirt, which took every bit as 
long. When he finally untied my hands and helped me to stand erect, I stood 
there, fingering my wounded seat, and feeling much abused. But I was given 
little time for such diversions when abruptly he led me back to the bedroom 
and told me to get ready for the theater. 

"The theater! Oh, Quin, don't be absurd. I can't possibly go to the theater 
like this." 

"Why not?" 

"Well, because.. . I'm all hot and bothered and I don't want to sit down." 

"Exactly the way I want you, my pet. I wouldn't change a thing." 

It was in my mind to refuse, but I was pretty sure he'd tie me down and beat 
my bottom again. I could not have resisted, he was terribly strong. Quinlan 
Robins had mastered me and I knew my only choice was to leave him utterly or 
conform. I made myself as beautiful as I could and, from the expression on 
his face, I knew I'd done a good job. We went to the theater and all the way 
there in the taxi I was breathing heavily from unsatisfied sexual arousal 
which remained at fever heat because of my wealed flesh. Sitting on my 
wounds I longed for nothing more than to seduce Quin into raping me there on 
the back seat. He knew what I was feeling, damn him! I had never felt more 
at odds with everything and myself in my whole life. 

The theater was worse. I sat on my inflamed rump and fumed. Quin possessed 
himself of one of my hands and held it, patting it gently in a soothing way 
which did keep me in my seat and admonished against rash acts. I realized, 
for him, this was probably the best part of the whole affair. Sure, he'd 
loved whipping me, but this damned play would go on for a couple of hours 
and I'd spend the whole damned hundred and twenty minutes being conscious of 
my hurt buttocks on which I sat. It was not exactly agony nor was it true 
pain, it was a mixture of pure lust and a girl's worst enemy, feeling untidy 
and disorganized. I felt positive, too, that the heavy libations of perfume 
were not enough. I was certain that some of the smell of ME in heat must be 
telling the immediately neighbors of my horny condition. 

When we got home that night and I was told to strip naked I have never been 
more thankful. I was allowed to back up to a mirror and inspect my lover's 
work. There was a fascination with the gaudy marks. I was certain they would 
not fade in a month. On my back, my twin buns still protesting, I was 
impaled again and again, and never in our entire association had our 
sexuality been so impossible to appease. The next morning I was late for the 
office. 

It was typical of Quinlan that he should not mention the incident again. For 
him it was over. I found myself loathed to broach the subject, I preferred 
to follow rather than lead. But in the week following the whipping of my 
skin I because aware of something within myself. If ordered to accept 
another such infliction, I would comply. I assured my conscious this was not 
a cow-like subservience to a man's lust but rather my own curiosity probing 
at a human relationship not previously glimpse. If, after the act itself, my 
bottom adored being whipped and all the subsequent sensations, then why 
should I deny myself! I shrugged away the question. Perhaps Quin would never 
ask again. We were very happy. Quinlan was always kind and tremendously 
amusing. He appeared to possess an unending supply of money which he spent 
on my pleasure and to cloth me lavishly. He frankly admitted to enjoyment in 
spending a vast sum of money on a gown or dress only to strip it from me 
when we got back home. He was not ashamed about any of his notions about sex 
or the things he wanted to do to girls. He saw the whole thing as what he 
himself described as "fun and games." It was precisely one week after my 
introduction to the riding crop and while we were dining, I was casually 
informed, "I'll whip you again this evening, sweetheart. But don't worry, 
we'll go to it right after dinner. No theater." 

"But, Quin, it's only a week and I've still got the marks...!" 

"I'll not whip your bottom this time, lover girl, you've been promoted. This 
time it will be a proper whip and I'll use it on your back." 

What I longed for right then was the courage to rise, express disgust, and 
walk right out on this man. I was supposing all it took was courage, but 
there I was wrong. It did not take courage at all. All it took was a 
willingness to renounce a pleasure and a pain so exquisite I could not bring 
myself to cast it from my life. I choked back all the words of protest and 
indignation and tried to match Quinlan's nonchalance. "After the brandy, 
darling?" 

"That's my girl!" He was staring across the table with unfeigned pleasure 
and a touch of surprise. He cocked an eyebrow, "No questions?" 

"There is one," I admitted slowly. "Shouldn't I do something, I mean 
something bad or disagreeable to deserve punishment?" 

"It's a good thought, sweetheart, but between us two there's no need of it. 
I will reserve the right to punish you as I see fit when you do something to 
deserve it. But mostly I'll whip you or give you pain in other ways for 
nothing more than the simple enhancement of sensation we both derive. 
Whipping a girl's bare skin is the most delicious love play ever invented." 

"And you invented it." 

"Gosh, no! Whipping girls is as old as time itself. I wouldn't be a bit 
surprised if Adam didn't use a switch on Eve over that apple affair." 

"But, Quin darling, I haven't got enough skin. Those eight strokes you gave 
me a week ago took out my whole bottom, and now if you move up to my back, 
what's left then?" 

"That's no concern of yours, dear girl. You're in my hands, leave everything 
to me." He looked at me shrewdly. "Or do you want to walk out of my life 
forever? You can, you know." 

"No, I can't! You know damned well I can't. You're a drug and I'm hooked. 
But I suppose if you hurt me bad enough...." 

"I can't hurt you bad enough. Once you're hooked, you're hooked. But I do 
want you to know you have a free choice." 

Quinlan probably believed what he said, but I knew better. Right then I had 
no choice other than to stay with him until he went beyond some unseen 
boundary of anguish or married me. I was deeply in love with him and I'm 
sure he knew this. But he never mentioned it. With all the hugs and kisses 
and fervent admiration of my body he avoided the one thing I wanted him most 
to say. If he had laid it on the line that, as his wife, I would be whipped 
regularly once a week, I would have said, "Yes, yes, yes!" with a truly 
shameful disregard of common sense. 

Our lives followed a normal pattern, from breakfast to dinner we were like 
any married couple. Things happened to me after dinner or on weekends. But I 
never had a feeling of enslavement or any sense of being abject. These 
emotions were there but were so mixed with all the rest as to defy 
separation. If Quinlan Robson desired to whip my bare back, then that was 
what I wanted him to do. I didn't bother with analysis, the bottom line was 
happiness. 

There are always milestones. Quinlan's use of the riding crop upon my bottom 
had been one, though not the first. I suppose the first milestone in my 
relationship with this man had been the first time in our talking when he 
told me of his wish to whip my flesh. It should have damned him utterly in 
my eyes but it did not! The second milestone was in the actual whipping of 
my bottom while I lay spread over his desk. The third milestone was in the 
whipping of my bare back. Throughout the rest of dinner and after while we 
sipped our brandy I was in the most shocking state of emotions, mostly fear. 
It is one thing to speak of hurting the bottom of a girl, but something else 
again when it comes to the hurting of her back. I had no previous knowledge 
but I had the strong feeling that my back would hurt much more than by 
punished buns, and there was a lot more of it to whip. In dramatic terms it 
removed me from the quivering little girl in the school room up to a mature 
woman about to be flogged. 

As was customary between us we did not speak of what was soon to be done to 
me. We sipped our brandy and talked of other things. That we could do this 
successfully was a tribute to our adjustment to each other. The adjustments 
were mostly mine, I had come a long, long way in seven days. 

There was always surprise with Quinlan. I really believe that had I known 
what he had in store for me I would have made the break and have done with 
him. But, just as with the semi-Victorian approach to my bottom, he also had 
a new and unexpected twist to what he now referred to as "the ritualistic 
whipping" of my back. He was not simply going to hang me up by my hands and 
bash away at me, it was to be done with finesse and keeping with my status 
as a young and successful businesswoman. 

My anticipation, with all its quivers and qualms, was all there, all working 
over time to reduce me to a naked package of girl who hadn't a thing to say 
in her own defense but went to her martyrdom without protest or the will to 
fight. My new milestone began in our bedroom where Quin stripped me naked 
and then covered my shrinking nudity with a white sheet. It enveloped all of 
me including my hands and arms and was held in the safe protection of my 
breasts and pubic hair by a safety pin at my neck. As though I was being 
escorted to a Roman arena before a cheering multitude, my arm was grasped 
and I was led from the room to the other room where I would suffer pain. 

It was only the lounge. But changes had taken place as if by magic. 
Furniture had been thrust to the sides and from above dangled a couple of 
ropes, the purpose of which I could guess all too well. But what made this 
event a milestone was the presence of a woman, a woman attired as a nurse, 
all in white, and who stood beside a tray of instruments and from whose neck 
there dangled a stethoscope. My first glance told me she was extremely 
beautiful, older than me but not by much. She did not wait for an 
introduction but said crisply, "You will bring the prisoner to me for 
examination. She cannot be whipped until I have decided her tolerance." 

I turned to look at the man who held my arm but he was entranced with a 
scene which I now recognized had been rehearsed. This was quite probably a 
genuine enactment of a scene in prisons where and when girls like me had 
been subject to the lash. They wanted no dead bodies so took the precaution 
of having a paramedic in attendance. As I was led toward her I looked at 
this woman and beheld the gleaming in her eyes. I shivered. 

"Be good enough to strip the prisoner." 

It was quickly done. Only a safety pin stood between myself and total 
nudity, with it gone I stood nakedly for this woman's approval. She plied 
her stethoscope with intent concentration but I soon realized she was 
actually playing with my breasts. I was turned about and the same attention 
given to the back so soon to be stripped with weals. With his fingers firmly 
clutching my arm, Quinlan inquired, with unusual respect, "Your verdict, 
Doctor?" 

"The prisoner is a healthy girl. She can well endure a whipping. I will 
observe her progress from close by." 

Well, that was that! I could pick up the vibrations from both the man who 
held my arm and the woman who had plied her stethoscope upon my breasts. 
There was something electric, an intense bombardment of vibrations filling 
the air as I was led below the hanging ropes From his pocket, Quinlan 
produced leather wristlets and buckled them tight around my wrists. The 
ropes above had hooks and it was a simple matter to attach me and press the 
button on the wall by which I was raised. When I was taut but not suspended, 
the motor stopped. I was ready to be whipped. 

But this was, in its way, a charade. The other two were acting a part but I 
was not. I stood nakedly on tiptoe, my breasts heaving above the pounding of 
my heart, while once again the stethoscope probed. This time there was 
something very personal about its contact with my flesh and I found myself 
eye to eye with the woman who would watch while I was whipped. Perhaps she 
was actually a doctor or a nurse but it did not matter. Quinlan's lust, 
coupled with my own, condemned me. The white starched uniform and the 
equipment on the tray was just trappings by which the whipping of my flesh 
would be made doubly erotic for them and perhaps for me. The doctor's voice 
was vibrant as it intoned, "You may commence the whipping of this young lady 
any time you choose, Mr. Robins. Do not allow her to deceive you, she is in 
excellent condition to receive her pain." 

I suppose this must have actually happened to other girls at other times in 
other places. But even though it was an enactment it would be, for me, 
nonetheless real. I was about to be whipped, presumably in the same manner 
that convict girls had once been whipped in ages past. I looked from the 
woman who condemned me to the man who was now holding the whip he would wrap 
around my body. It was immensely authentic and I had no will to dispute its 
authenticity with Quinlan. I took one last look at the intent female eyes 
reading my every thought and emotion before I closed my own. 

It was not a repetition of the cropping of my bottom. This was a quite new 
and different agony which led me to different sounds and emotions. This time 
I did not bother with conversational gambits, nor with pleadings. All I was 
concerned with now was to endure and emerge out the other side intact. Once 
more I did not know the number of strokes I was to endure, it might be ten 
or twenty or a hundred. But I must bear them in some way to gain the respect 
of the watching woman in white. For some reason this was important to me, I 
could not tell why only that it was so. 

It was very different from being bound across the desk. Even under the first 
blows I contorted in ways I could not have done before. I had my legs and 
used them to express my pain in all their elegance of motion and kicking. In 
sudden, unexpected agonies I raised myself from the floor by my leather 
wristlets and held myself thus suspended from the floor, kicking and flaying 
with my feet in mute protest. Through all my travail my greatest fear was 
for the woman. If she remained a presence after the final stroke had seared 
my skin she might interfere with the lovemaking. Judging by the heat searing 
within my loins, I knew our lovemaking would be fierce and barbaric. There 
should be no other woman present but ME, ME, ME! 

2 

The Whip 

I disgraced myself completely. I managed the first few strokes well enough, 
doing no more than moan and jerk and tug against strapped wrists. I saw the 
so-close female eyes gloating over my agony and I longed to kick and scream, 
so much in pain as in anger. I hated that woman and her stethoscope. After 
the first few blows had cut my shoulders and my back I actually did scream 
and did kick, but not at her. I was too damned scared. I was certain that if 
I planted a kick upon that part of her person that hurt the most, my penalty 
would be twice as bad as now! Now I was a punished innocent, but I would not 
be then. From a great distance I heard her voice, "You are a very beautiful 
child. I will make certain you are well and properly whipped." 

I was most truly "well and properly whipped." I lost count but I got twenty 
or thirty strokes. I am now certain Quinlan was not whipping me as hard or 
as heavily as he could. But I did not know that then. Each stroke seemed an 
unbearable agony and I was certain I could not bear the next.. . And the one 
after that.. . ! Long after, when I had been whipped to the satisfaction of 
all concerned, except myself, it was my punished wrists that told me how I 
had tortured them beneath the torture of the lash. They bore a scarlet 
circlet for days afterwards and I was obliged to resort to all sorts of 
expediencies at the office to prevent comments and conclusions I did not 
want. In meantime Quinlan used the whip upon my skin with an immense 
precision and skill. When 

I had received ten blows I was assured by those who watched that I bore ten 
perfectly spaced bars of scarlet from below my neck to above my already 
whipped bottom. I took their word for it but the whipping went on and on 
until I knew the whip marks were no longer evenly space but now made a 
lattice of etching on my skin. It was a very competent affair. 

There were pauses for the nurse to ply her trade. I was sweating and panting 
and could have cared less and the rubber dingus probed and prodded at my 
breasts and nipples. Later I was to be ashamed at the pain sweat with which 
I was heavily dewed. I was slippery with sweat and smelt outrageously of all 
the carnal goat smells of which a girl in heat was capable. Those who 
punished me picked them up and smelled them appreciatively and returned 
their own. The room was alive with the pungency of pain. 

"The prisoner is fully capable of continuing her punishment," the nurse 
intoned the solemn words. I could have cheerfully killed her. 

For the last three I was instructed to separate my legs and push my feet far 
apart. Unthinkingly and unknowingly I obeyed and was rewarded by three 
terrible upper cuts which slashed into my crotch and expended their venomous 
tips upon my belly. I screamed. I like to think the prime ingredient of my 
screams was outrage and not of pain. It could be true. 

When they were done with me and I was assured my punishment was past I was 
kissed by both the woman and the man, each was ardent. They left me hanging 
as I was, assuring me they would drink a brandy in a toast to my fortitude. 
I bit back the obvious retorts and bowed my head in submission and pain and 
weariness. I was assured I looked extremely pretty like that then left 
alone. 

It is terrible to stand naked and be robbed of hands. I longed to search my 
wounds or to lay down and go to sleep. I wanted anything but what I was 
forced to do. Dejected I thought of their friendly conversation somewhere in 
another room and the potent brandy they would sip in my honor. But here I 
stood alone and longed to weep. For some reason the tears failed me. I could 
not cry. I looked down at my breasts and was thankful they remained 
unmarked. The tip of Quinlan's whip had bit hard into my armpits and hurt 
most brutally, but had left my cones untouched, and I was thankful. 

When I was finally freed and taken to our bed for Quin to impale, the 
unnamed woman stood beside us and drank deeply at the visual fount as I paid 
tribute to Quinlan's loins and mine. After my first bitter glare of hatred I 
only hoped she was jealous of Quinlan's joy and mine. 

After our first paroxysms had wrecked us into gasps and moans and I returned 
once more into a world in which I was going to be regularly whipped, the 
woman in the nurse's uniform was gone. 

Later I was to learn her name was Helen Mathis. 

My life resumed. But freedom had, by some intangible method, been taken from 
me. I was now wholly subservient to Quinlan's will, there was no demand he 
could make of me I would not fulfill. I did this joyfully in the discovery 
of a new emotion hitherto unsuspected and unknown, the quality of total 
submission to another's will. I had never been like that and, outside of 
Quinlan's home, was un-like it still. But once within his door my office 
image fell apart and I became as much a slavegirl to this man as I might 
once have been to Haroum El Raschid long ago. Most certainly I was not 
bored. 

We now talked, at times of Quin's own choosing, of what I had become and of 
the things he proposed to do to me. I listened enthralled and in disbelief 
as he told me of suspension, of being locked inside dark closets while 
tightly bound, of sleeping on the floor besides his bed, chained by a collar 
on my neck to a ringbolt in the floor. It was all tremendously exciting and, 
since none of it seemed beyond my capacity to bear, something I awaited in 
anticipation which kept me constantly sexually aroused. True, my sexuality 
was appeased each night, but regenerated itself through the turgid 
imaginings of my mind throughout the following day. I had to be constantly 
alert at the office to insure the concealment of any telltale marks on any 
part of me visible during business hours. Quinlan loved to mark my wrists or 
neck so I must needs resort to expedience by which to hid the scarlet marks 
made by collar or wristlet or rope. It was in this first acquaintance with 
punishments beyond the whip that I was introduced to the novelty of 
handcuffs on my wrists and leg irons on my ankles. Quinlan brought the box 
home one day and we examined together its shinning nickel and chrome 
contents. Within a few minutes my wrists were joined in steel and my ankles 
hobbled by a chain. We did a lot of giggling, these things were fun and did 
no more than cement the new relationship into which Quinlan had guided me. 

The new relationship was ritualistic by nature and imposed upon me a great 
deal of determination to be the girl of his desires. For instance, upon 
coming home earlier that he, I was compelled by his command to strip naked, 
put away my clothes, and enter into a corner of the wall within the hallway 
and there to stand facing the blank walls and with my hands neatly clasped 
behind my back. We discussed whether I should be required to handcuff myself 
for this subservience but decided against it on the basis of its falsity. 
Quinlan wanted nothing false, whatever we did it was to be real. I hate to 
think of the hours I spend submissively naked and facing into the limited 
view of my chosen comer while awaiting the arrival of my master. There was 
no longer any question of Quinlan being my master, that was what he was. 

He purchased a safari cage. It was just big enough to hold me, not in 
comfort, but so I could dispose my nakedness either sitting or on all fours. 
It had not been constructed for girls but served the purpose most nicely. It 
was intended for the use of hunters to bring home the puma, the cheetah, or 
the baby lion. While held safely captive within its heavy mesh I often 
wondered how many other girls there were like me for whom the tiny metal 
prison satisfied a master's heart's desire. I never knew the answer but most 
certainly I followed my own master's instructions. Whereas once I had stood 
within the corner and faced the wall, it was now my duty to strip and insert 
myself within the cage and then click shut the heavy padlock by which my 
incarceration was insured. When my master came home I would be there 
awaiting his pleasure. It was all very satisfying and I can't claim the 
satisfaction was all for him, I was becoming accustomed to a constant flare 
of sensuality resulting from the things I had to do. 

There was also Quinlan's unkind conceit about our meals. He had a special 
chair constructed for me in which I could be held a dozen different way by 
ropes or straps or chains. But the main pleasure he found in it was at 
dinner time, a meal previously informally enjoyed but which now compelled me 
to a most unnatural posture which it took me a week to get used to. The 
chair had a high back and from this rigid vertical hung a collar and a very 
tiny length of heavy chain. When this cute notion was locked upon by neck I 
was forced to sit upright and bring the food from plate to mouth by a steady 
hand. By this time it was understood I would be always naked when in the 
house, and therefore any spillage of food in transit was-likely to embellish 
my breasts or thighs or other unmentionable portions of my person. I was 
inspected after each meal and appropriately punished for such lack of 
control. I think the Victorians would have enjoyed this had it existed in 
that time. 

By then I was besotted, as must be obvious, by this man and his carnal 
amusements. We had become a part of each other and I no mooned dreamily 
about marriage. The whip and all the other erotic devices diverted me 
utterly. I'm sure there were those at the office who wondered what had 
happened to Candy Cosgrove, but I did not care. All I wanted was Quinlan, 
and most certainly I was getting every bit there was of him. If the 
pseudo-nurse, Helen, occasionally dropped by for a cocktail, which I was 
compelled to serve nakedly upon my knees, so what! It was just one more 
piece of the pattern and as valid as anything else. There existed between 
Helen and me a hostile truce, I was constantly awaiting a male demand for me 
to serve her, it would have been quite in keeping with the role I now must 
play. But the command did not come, my lips and tongue remained untouched by 
her sex. I served her politely in normal ways and never once did she request 
that I be whipped. 

At any time throughout this period I could have walked out on Quinlan and 
his games, but the thought never entered my mind. I was content and still 
convinced I had not yet sampled the full extent of his sexual inventiveness. 
I suppose I was happy, that's the way I remember it. 

I often wondered if there were other girls who shared my role, I felt sure 
there must be. But who was to know any more than someone would know about 
Quinlan and myself. My office might know I was up to something but they had 
no clue. Throughout this time I felt certain I could not possibly be the 
only girl endowed with extra facilities of joy. That's the way I saw it, an 
extra facility for extracting from the act of love and from a man far more 
than the ordinary girl or wife ever glimpsed. I had to wonder if it had lain 
latent within me since birth and if it had taken only Quinlan's key to 
unlock this door to sensuality. I was willing to bet that the latent factor 
was deep within the feminine psyche, touching at least half of us, and 
requiring only the hot rapport with the proper male. I was lucky to have 
found Quinlan and Quinlan's fantasies. In this I knew myself more fortunate 
than he for a man can place his hand upon many girls whereas for the female 
such approaches are conventionally forbidden. 

In our home I was now always naked. Immediately upon return from the office 
I cast aside my garments and did what needs be done awaiting the return the 
male who was, I suppose, my Master. Thought we never cemented our 
relationship in that way. Quinlan owned me by virtue of an unnamed 
something. I called him "Quin" and he called me "Candy" and these endearing 
abbreviations of our names in no way affected his domination. 

I often faced up to the question as to whether I was truly as submissive as 
Quinlan made me. By this time I would obey any command he made of me and 
only a part of this obedience was due to my awareness of the whip. It was 
understood between us that disobedience would meet with the lash. But I 
obeyed Quintan because I wanted to, because it seemed the most natural thing 
to do. Out in the world I was no more submissive or dominant than any girl 
my age. Most of those I associated with knew nothing about either. But I did 
not bother my head much about these things, they were interesting to muse 
over in idle moments but that was all. I accepted Quinlan as a gift life had 
made to me and I was grateful. I often made invidious comparisons between my 
own condition and those of the young married woman of my acquaintance, 
laughing quietly to myself at the shocked expressions on their faces if only 
they knew! 

There was in all of this the additional amusement of my restraints.' Since 
everything I did was voluntary, it seemed pointless to add the final touch 
of chain or cord. There had been only a single incident by which a cord and 
me had been valid companions. I suppose you could call it a lover's spat, 
and I had been prepared to flounce out of the apartment in feminine 
indignation when Quinlan simply picked me up, stripped me naked, and bound 
by hands behind my back with one of my own nylons. I had never previously 
known of that virtue of a woman's leg coverings, but they bit deep and held 
my hands as firmly as the most wicked cord. Quinlan used the second one to 
bind my ankles. 

There I lay on the bed, fuming, and quite certain in my mind that as soon as 
he left me alone I would have no difficulty in freeing myself and carrying 
out my original intent. But I was wrong! Those two nylons held me as 
securely as a dozen chains or a barred cell. They laughed at all my efforts 
towards freedom and, when Quinlan caught me rolling across the floor towards 
the dresser in hopes of finding scissors, he quietly returned me to the bed, 
bend my feet up behind by back and attached them to my bound hands in a 
perfect hogtie. I was now so damned helpless that, after he had gone, I fell 
to weeping and was sorry for myself until the heat within my loins vanished 
all other sensations. I was still new to this strange life and the idea of 
sexual heat being generated because I was uncomfortably bound naked by a 
man, was a whole fresh concept of something I was learning piece by piece. 
Quinlan kept me tied the whole weekend. He sometimes came to jeer or attend 
my needs. He also read me stern lectures about the matter of behavior. But 
he was magnanimous in the matter of punishment, saying I would not be 
whipped this time, that my punishment would be the time I spent bound upon 
the bed, describing my condition by an amusing word-play all his own, 
"Nyloned Naughtiness." It taught me a lesson. 

The handcuffs and leg irons, which were the first restraints Quinlan 
purchased for me, served much the same purpose as a wedding ring for married 
couples. I wore them as bracelets and anklets and gloried in their musical 
accompaniment to anything I did. But there principle potency lay in the 
knowledge of Quinlan holding the key. Only Quinlan could set me free, I 
would wear the shinning, pretty chrome as long as it pleased him. My own 
sentiments about them did not matter. The trouble was, I adored them, too. 
There was something about them which enhanced my femininity in a manner 
similar to erotic lingerie or the use of cosmetics. Quinlan assured me 
blandly they were made for girls and not for convicts at all. He coined a 
small pleasantry he often repeated to the effect that the world would be a 
better place if every girl wore irons. I found the word "irons" devastating. 
When Quinlan learned of this he used it often to my annoyance and his 
delight. That I was actually "ironed" was an enchanting imposition I could 
scarcely bear without pleading to be taken to my master's bed. It became an 
understood prohibition between us that when I asked for something I was 
never granted it. It was all exciting and erotic and utterly delightful, 
keeping me in a state of constant arousal and dark longings for the phallus 
he withheld. I was ashamedly irritated by the knowledge that Quinlan's 
potency was capable of far more penetrations of my sheath that he vouchsafed 
me. It was all beyond belief but deeply satisfying. I got so I could do 
almost everything while ironed. The chain swirling between my ankles and the 
single link between by wrists impeded little. It was not long before I 
realized the immense sexual gratification Quinlan was getting while watching 
my performance while chained thus. I was compelled to use both my hands for 
any task, even if only one was needed. I could not walk fast and absolutely 
could not run. But I could manage a graceful motion that soon became my 
natural gate after going through a period of tripping and falling and 
tangling my toes. In this, I suppose we were much like a pair of children 
with a new and exciting toy. 

Quinlan had friends. I suspect he jettisoned most of them during my staying 
at his apartment. But a few filtered through, a couple of curious males who 
had obviously seen all this before but nonetheless enjoyed Me immensely, 
paying verbal and often vulgar tribute to my charms. I was required to serve 
them cocktails on my knees and then to lean to one side, my legs wide apart, 
to present my most genital view and wait fresh commands, speaking only when 
spoken to. On these occasions I was always completely ironed. Helen was the 
only female and appeared much privileged. I jealously suspected a long 
previous acquaintance in which things had happened to render what she now 
beheld in me something undeserving of comment. Her attitude was that, if 
Quinlan kept a slavegirl, so what! She discussed me with him at great length 
and often asked me a question or two which Quinlan allowed me to answer. I 
longed to have her alone for a while to ask questions of my own, but this 
was never permitted. Quinlan was always present and kept an eye on both of 
us as though we were equal in his possession. But I was never easy with her 
around, she gave me the impression of a brooding something from way outside 
getting ready to pounce. She never removed her clothes or, to my knowledge, 
indulged in anything carnal with Quinlan. From their casual talk I gathered 
once more the impression of being within a center core of immense wealth. 
They spoke of possessions and business deals that left me breathless with 
envy. It occurred to me I was not costing Quinlan a single penny, I was 
still self-supporting from my job, and apart from the gown and lingerie and 
chains he purchased on my behalf, he contributed nothing to my material 
existence. They discussed this fact, too, as if I were not there, and made 
it clear they were convinced it best to keep a slavegirl as close to penury 
as possible. 

It was during one of these visits Helen slipped me pure shock. In the most 
mundane of conversations, and in a pleasantly polite monotone, she asked, 
"Quinlan, I'd like to whip Candy, May I?" 

I should have been expecting it but I was not. I tensed with fright, a fear 
not without excitation. Here was eroticism indeed! A casual caller 
requesting permission to whip the mistress of her host. Wow! I knelt there, 
frozen and with my eyes riveted upon the man who could yield my flesh or 
withhold it as he choice. Quinlan showed no surprise but, offhandedly, 
suggested, "The poor girl hasn't done anything to deserve a whipping, my 
dear. Can't just whip her without a cause, you know." 

"Don't be a hypocrite, of course you can. You've whipped her plenty and I'm 
sure she's never done a damned thing to deserve it." 

"That's me, not you, Helen." 

"So, OK, you're her master, she's your slave. I'm politely asking a 
privilege, you don't have to grant it." 

I felt like a maiden martyr in a Roman theatre waiting for Caesar to turn 
his thumb up or turn it down. My most fervent thought was the wish to be 
whipped only my Quinlan and not be this intrusive female with her privileges 
of long acquaintance. Somehow I could not image Helen whipping my bare skin, 
only Quinlan did that. 

"What's your thought on the subject, Candice?" 

I knew myself under some sort of test. Perhaps the two of them had hatched 
this up in private. What a hell of a question to toss at me out of a clear 
sky! Quinlan was no doubt enjoying his role of voyeur, but Helen was for 
real. Her eyes upon me told all too clearly of her wish to see me writhe and 
hear me cry out in pain. We made an interesting trio. All I could think to 
say was, "If it is something you wish, Quinlan." 

"I asked you, Candice. Would you like Helen to whip you." 

"I'm sorry, but no, I wouldn't." 

"Why, darling?" 

"Because she's a woman. I've only been whipped by you, Quin, and I don't 
want to be whipped by any one else." 

"But supposing I order you to make yourself available to the dear girl?" 

"In that case, I'll obey." 

"You see?" Quinlan sounded as though he had performed a miracle. "See, isn't 
she wonderful?" 

"She's in love with you, that's all." Helen's dismissal of my being 
wonderful was curt. She turned to me, "Is it you who's saying she'll obey or 
is it those irons you're wearing?" 

I lifted my chained hands as though only then aware of them. Raising them to 
the level of my face I drew the linkage taut so I could gaze above it 
through the frame of my joined hands directly at the woman who wished to 
give me pain. "It is not these," I said with sweet simplicity. "Quinlan 
wishes me to give myself to you, so I obey." 

"But you don't really want me to whip you?" 

I lowered my hands to give Helen my full attention. "What I want or don't 
want has nothing to do with it, Helen. It's what Quinlan wants. If it 
pleases him to watch you whip me, then you have my motive." 

She nodded but was not yet satisfied. "I'd like you to ask me to whip you. 
Make it sincere." 

There might be more to this than I first supposed. I turned a quick glance 
to where Quin watched us intently. I turned back to Helen's demanding beauty 
and said, as firmly as I could, "Helen, I want you to whip me." I paused 
long enough for my words to sink in then added, "Please whip me." 

My unearned punishment went forward smoothly. I held out my linked hands to 
Quinlan and he used the tiny key. I then stood below the rope which Helen, 
evidently well acquainted with their use, was lowering to the proper level. 
She strapped the leather bands around my wrists, attached them, then used 
the switch to raise me taut. I was not really stretched, just made 
available. Helen looked over my doubly revealed nakedness, touching it here 
and there, then walking in a circle to make sure she missed no portion of my 
person in her inspection. She roughly pulled one of my legs to one side to 
enable her to look within my crotch and to palm the pussy I usually managed 
to keep discretely out of view. I sensed her growing excitation. All I felt 
was a creeping numbness and wished I could become unconscious for the period 
of this female-inspired punishment. Helen even knew where the whips were 
hidden and made her selection with great care. I didn't expect her to flog 
me in front of Quinlan but I expected to be hurt so her choice was not 
overly important. Much would depend upon the vigor with which she applied 
the beastly thing. When she returned I cringed at the sight of what she now 
carried, and was aware of her pleasure in beholding this tiny response of my 
reflexes. Her voice was no longer casual, "May I gag her, Quinlan?" 

Quin avoided my eyes. He was well aware of my loathing of things bound 
within my mouth. His, "If you want to Helen," was studiously unconcerned. 

I should have guessed. Helen reached beneath her dress and dragged down the 
skimpy covering of her sex. I suppose it was clean enough and not cause for 
complaint, but what girl wants another girl's panties in her mouth 
especially when freshly taken from her crotch and redolent of her juices. 
But, unhappily, I opened my mouth and accepted the tiny garment without 
complaint. Helen found a scarf and bound it tight between my teeth and over 
my lips. It was a most effective gag. Sarcastically she said, "Makes a bound 
between us, doesn't it dear? I know you'll enjoy my flavor." 

She tugged the scarf once more and knotted it viciously. I was now in the 
posture of her choice and utterly mute. Never in all Quinlan had done to me 
had I felt this bare or so vividly exposed. I was turning to Quinlan when 
Helen grasped my chin and turned my regard upon herself. She smiled deep 
into my eyes and her smile was the smile of love. I was more lost than I had 
ever been. I longed to speak but the panties in my mouth and the scarf 
between my lips denied this comfort. I stood, expectant and most terribly 
ready. 

Quinlan watched with intent interest. Quite probably he had seen Helen whip 
other girls and would make comparisons. I wish I understood the relationship 
between but had no time for such academic considerations. Helen's fingertips 
were playing softly up and down my back and across the curves of my bottom 
to make he gasp and quiver within my bounds. She chose the center of my 
naked back for her first stroke of the thong. I screamed but made no sound. 

I don't know why we speak of someone being whipped as receiving "strokes." 
You strokes a cat or a dog or someone's hair, the act has no relation to the 
whipping of a girl's bare skin. A woman being whipped thinks the strangest 
thoughts, often totally illogical. Why should I think in terms of strokes 
when obviously cuts, or lashes, or blows would be more appropriate. But, 
regardless of how I thought of it, Helen's whip continued to impact its 
venom from my shoulders to my bottom's lowest curve. She was hurting me 
terribly and enjoying every sound her leather made upon my flesh, enjoying, 
too, the sounds I could not make but the contortions I most certainly did. 
The leg irons had not been taken from my ankles, and my involuntary kicks 
and lunges with chained feet were music to her ears. I knew these things by 
instinct. I am a woman. 

"How many shall I give your darling, Quinlan?" 

Quinlan's "darling" gazed imploringly but he would not meet my eyes. His 
tone was faintly amused, "Whatever you think, Helen dear girl. But don't 
kill the girl, I value her." 

I had never felt more friendless or more in need of a friend. 

Perhaps it was as well I could not speak. I was a victim between two diverse 
personalities, a wrong word could offend either and I was in no position to 
offend anyone. My one concern was to get this beastly whipping over and done 
with and to see Helen go home. Nothing would be normal until Quinlan and I 
were once more alone. Helen had resumed her slow and methodical whipping of 
my person and I was giving her all the motions of agonized nakedness she 
could possibly desire. The rattle and clink of my leg irons was incessant as 
was the creaking protests of the leather on my wrists. Whenever I lifted 
myself from the floor by my tethered hands it was never by my own free will, 
but rather by the spur of pain. I did it often and was well aware of the 
indrawn breathes of admiration by twisting helplessness displayed. Whenever 
she could manage it, Helen contrived to strike me an especially hard blow at 
that precise moment when my arms had lifted me as high as I could go. The 
sharp, swift lash across my bottom at such a time painted a fearful 
eroticism for us all. I include myself, I was as much involved as they. 

Helen called a halt for cocktails. She mixed one for me and held it to my 
lips while I drank. It was all extremely civilized. The conversation covered 
all subject except that of a naked girl suspended for the whip. Helen's 
panties had been removed from my mouth to enable me to drink and I was given 
the freedom of my lips so I might participate in the matters under 
discussion. I will never know the degree to which this was contrived or was 
simply a sincere acceptance of a situation often played. But I found myself 
making polite responses while I stood there, glistening with sweat, my 
breasts heaving with the pain slowly receding from the last blow. I 
supposed, in my way, I was a part of a quintessence of civilized behavior. 
When Helen once more stuffed the now-wet panties behind by teeth above my 
tongue, I had to suppose we were at the half way mark but could no longer 
ask. The scarf once more bound my lips and insured I should not scream. I 
had lost count of the impacts on my skin. 

As whippings go, I suppose what Helen dished out to me was no big deal. It 
hurt terribly while she plied the whip but my skin was not cut and even I 
knew she had not struck the blows as hard as she might have done. She had 
simply enjoyed a pleasant diversion which had given me a good deal of pain 
and perhaps revealed to her some facet of my character she sought. Quinlan 
and she kissed a goodbye and she went upon her way while I remained in 
semi-suspension and still sweating and panting from a punishment quite 
undeserved. When he had seen her to the door, Quinlan came back and 
cheerfully inquired, "Could have been worse, yes?" 

Helen had not left without her panties, I could therefore speak. I did so 
with bitterness. "She enjoyed giving me pain. I wish you hadn't let her do 
it, Quin. I had to go along. I don't see what else I could have done." 

Quinlan came and gently touched my nose and kissed my lips. The admonishment 
that followed was typical, "Since you wish to be temperamental, darling, you 
can stand where you are another hour. I had intended to let you down." 

It was the only real spat we ever had and I knew it was due one hundred 
percent to Helen. Female intuition told me she had done it only to insert a 
wedge between Quinlan and myself, she was jealous of what we had and what we 
did. But it seemed best to keep quiet about these feelings, I was already in 
some sort of disgrace and faced an uncomfortably hour with my hands held up 
above my head while I longed for nothing more than to soothe my whip marks 
and be kissed. "Well, if that's the way you feel about it," I said savagely. 
"Why don't you make it two hours instead of one? After all I'm only a 
slavegirl." 

"Not a bad idea," said Quinlan. "Let's make it three." 

3 

Female 

By the time my penitence had run its painful course I was a tearful, 
contrite young woman, anxious only to please and placate. Three hours with 
your hands and arms held high above your head can be a long, long time. But, 
hidden within the humility Quinlan discovered when he came to set me free, 
was a seething resentment against Helen, my punishments had been all her 
fault. I dared not voice my feelings for fear of being obliged to stand for 
three more hours of correction. But I longed for a revenge I knew I would 
never get. 

Helen's adventure in thrashing me appeared to have no significance, there 
was no aftermath and no one mentioned her taking me back to where she lived 
to punish me in the isolation of her own desires. I soon recovered from my 
snit and returned to my role as Quinlan's heart's desire. I couldn't claim 
it a one-way street, I was getting Quinlan! 

The fact that my activities beyond the office were heavily laced with sex 
changed nothing of my life in the streets and corridors and cafes. Sometimes 
Quinlan would meet me for lunch at Sharp's and we would vividly relive our 
first meeting. It was during this time I discovered my love affair with 
rope. 

I had mentioned what I always think of as "the nylon affair," that first 
time when I was bound and hogtied on the bed. Goodness knows I was 
helplessness enough and the punishment had all the earmarks of validity, but 
my female soul was revolted by the manner of my binding. I was a girl and 
did not wish to be bound with the nylon from a girl's leg. Nylon belonged in 
the bedroom and when I was to be tied I wanted something else, I wanted rope 
or cord. That is so long as I had to be bound and not ironed. 

Quinlan sensed my emotional involvement and pandered to it with his usual 
skill. He would cross my wrist and bind them tight in front with a nylon 
cord I could not bite, then order me to make his supper or mix his drinks. 
Sometimes I remained thus bound throughout the night, since it hindered 
little the making of our love. There were also those times when he pretended 
I must be punished for an unnamed sin and would bind me spread-eagle on the 
bed, a naked, helplessness which often extended into the night, during which 
he would use me as he pleased and, in the end, fall asleep with his head 
upon my breast. It was all deeply satisfying. 

I used to watch while I was bound, and I'd thrill to each tight stricture of 
the cord. Quinlan was tolerant enough to allow me a full view of each of the 
bindings he imposed. Thus I could see the looping of the strands, the 
tugging tight to indent them in my skin, and sometimes the final knotting 
from which I never managed to extricate myself. Since we both became more 
and more involved in this business of binding the naked girl who was Me, 
Quinlan devised strange frustrations much in the manner of a girl fastened 
by one handcuff to a wall, the bond was simple but absolute. I was to 
discover how implacable handcuffs are, a girl can never get out of them, not 
if they are clicked sufficiently snugly on her wrists! My master or my lover 
or whatever other name you might call Quinlan by, had implanted in the walls 
of his domicile a number of metal rings. They were unintrusive enough to the 
disinterested eye but they enabled him to attach me almost any where he 
chose and there I would stand, sit, or bend over according to the placement 
of my hand or ankle or neck. He laughed at a vulgar joke that said the June 
bride knew she was going to get something but didn't know how long it was 
going to be. That was the way with me. Sometimes I stood or bend or sprawled 
an hour, sometime two, sometimes all night. It was all tremendously 
exciting. 

Quinlan broke me in gently. The beginning of his "quaint notions" was for me 
to serve the cocktails and then stand against the wall. He allowed me to 
hold my drink in my left hand but then bound my right wrist tight, tight, 
tight while I stood watching and breathless. My punished member was then 
raised to a ring not too far above my head and there securely bound. I never 
knew what the rope was, but I had no knife and my fingers were powerless 
against the knots. Perhaps if I had been left alone and my bound hand been 
at a level I could reach, I might have been able to free myself, but I had 
little belief in that. During my whole life with Quinlan I have never 
succeeded in freeing myself from any bond he placed on me. It was not for 
want of trying, goodness knows I tried enough. Often when he left me alone 
long enough for panic or desire to invade my person, I have striven 
desperately to defeat the frustrating bindings but I never manage it. I 
speak here of those case of a single wrist or a single ankle or my neck to 
be held immobilized in a single spot by one of those metal rings, pure 
aggravation to a girl. She feels positive she should be able to get loose 
and equally positive that if she were a man she would be able to do it 
easily. But it never works. I was always still there when Quinlan came 
smiling back to release me and usually to take me to bed and put to good use 
the flaming lust engendered by my captivity. 

The irons, when they came, intrigued me in much the same fashion but with a 
quite different effect. I could fight the rope and know, in the event of a 
miracle, I could get free. But with the handcuffs or the leg irons, they 
nestled around my limbs with an implacable clutch I could never break. But 
yet their generation of lust within my loins no less potent, it had for its 
source the initial clicking around my wrist or ankle, a process I could 
watch breathlessly and in wonder that a bond so easily placed on could be so 
impossible to remove. From being made captive in the shining metal I 
graduated to the exasperation of having to stand where ever Quinlan chose to 
place me and await his return. During this time I was constantly conscious 
of my nickled-plated enemy, I tugged and pulled and even spit upon my wrists 
in an effort to lubricate their withdrawal from the cuffs. Nothing worked. 
When Quinlan came back I was always there awaiting his pleasure. I have 
often speculated on how disappointed I might have been had I gotten loose! 

Quinlan had rings everywhere. I sampled all of them at one time or another. 
The one I hated most was where I was obliged to kneel against a wall and be 
attached to its ring by a collar on my neck. There was only one single link, 
it prevented me from hurting myself but it kept me kneeling upright and 
prevented me from sitting or standing or doing anything other than stare at 
the blank wall. I was completely controlled. If I complained I was blandly 
told I could always obtain release by pleading for the soles of my feet to 
be beaten with a rod for twenty strokes apiece. Quinlan showed me the 
instrument, and when I thought of it impacting across my bound and helpless 
soles I always cringed in horror and put up with whatever discomfort I was 
suffering. If, in all of this, you see me as no more than a feminine 
masochist, you are wrong. I endured it because I adored Quinlan, and because 
anything he did to me was so much a part of him I adored that, too. Maybe if 
he had burned me at the stake I would have gone up a flames and smoke still 
in adoration. It is a emotion I still cannot explain. 

Between cords and cuffs I was gloriously and erotically content. The 
generation of my secretions kept pace with any demand Quinlan made. So great 
was their response I was often impatient to be punished or impaled. I 
suppose I was the vision of very man, a female totally insatiable and 
forever to be desired. If I wanted to make a pun I could say I was so happy 
it hurt. 

The apartment was large. Quinlan had used one of the rooms as an office, it 
was fully equipped and very business-like. He had a habit of catching up on 
his business affairs on Saturday and fell into the practice of restraining 
me, totally naked, somewhere around the walls where he could gaze up from 
his paperwork and enjoy Me and any mood of frustration I might betray. 

On the day I took another stepping stone into the future, he had indulged 
another whimsy by tying my right wrist well above my head to the inevitable 
ring. I don't know what the cord was but it was soft and bit at me 
gleefully. Quinlan stood on a chair to complete the knotting process by 
which I would be forced to stand like a small girl in class raising her arm 
for the teacher's attention. It was not the first time he had attached me 
thus. Frustrated as I may be, I was also conscious of concupiscence 
generated by his frequent pauses to admire my person. I had become 
accustomed to nakedness but somehow this exposure got to me. I always felt 
an idiot, standing there with one free hand trying to cover everything I had 
and finally abandoning the effort to hang limply passive at my side. If I 
endured a little discomfort from my bound wrist, it was quite possible for 
me to turn and face the wall, giving my tormentor my naked back and bottom 
for a change. But I never held this posture for long, the view was boring 
and Quinlan made vulgar remarks about what I now displayed. There was also 
the possibility that, if I thrust my bottom at him long enough, he would 
probably use the crop on it. 

On the day I'm thinking of I had stood thus bound for a hour or so watching 
my magnificent male busy with his papers when the front doorbell rang 
insistently. I listened avidly from my standing position to murmur of 
voices, and cringed unhappily at what I heard, there should have been only 
two but there was three! When our visitors entered the office I beheld, to 
my dismay, not only Helen, but also a bright-eyed girl of fourteen or 
fifteen who regarded me and and nakedness with bright interest. 

"This is my daughter, her name's Audry," Helen informed me. "Don't bother to 
cover your pubic hair with that one hand and don't cross your legs, dear, 
that makes you look silly." She turned to Quinlan, "You sure do think up the 
damndest things for her, don't you Quin? Audry's going to love her to bits." 

Throughout the following silence I fought a battle. The youngster's eyes 
were eating every inch of me and I had to exert all my will to avoid the 
silly gestures of covering a breast or reaching for my crotch. I debated 
turning around to face the wall as an expression of my disapproval of this 
invasion but I felt sure this would be considered rude and I would be 
punished accordingly. I suspected I was treading a very thin line between 
good behavior and the riding crop. I wanted neither, and cursed Quinlan's 
contrivance of this situation. I felt pretty certain it happen only by his 
consent. 

"She's real, Audry, you can go and touch her." Helen's voice oozed maternal 
affection. "She'll say whatever you want her to say, but don't pinch her 
nipples. Not now anyway." 

I died a hundred deaths as the sparkling eyed teenager continued her 
inventory of the sexual attributes of a mature girl. "You're the loveliest 
woman I've ever seen naked," Audry assured me politely. "I hope you won't 
mind if I do what Mommy says." 

I minded a lot but Audry did what Mommy said anyway. I looked at Quinlan and 
picked up the message I had best behave. I knew both he and Helen were 
getting a big kick out of my embarrassment. Bitterly I said, "Help yourself, 
Audry, if you want me to turn around, just say so." 

Audry's examination of my naked body was almost clinical in its totality, 
she missed nothing. Inevitably the probing fingers and clasping hands ended 
up with one of them between my legs and taking a firm grip on my sex. I 
could easily have kicked her but prudence prevailed. I stood and winched 
with each tight little grip of curious fingers. When she was done she, 
giggling, wiped her palm upon my bare hip while she looked at Quinlan to 
exclaim, "You're so lucky, Mr. Robins, she's beautiful, I wish I owned her." 

"You do own her, darling," said Helen with a sweet, motherly smile. "We'll 
take her home with us." 

I wanted to die for sure. This was too damned much! I looked at Quinlan but 
all I got was his most secretive smile. This was one more situation 
contrived for his amusement. He said, very simply, "Don't worry, Candice. 
Stop looking so shocked, you and Audry will be good for each other." 

"No!" My negative was a tiny explosion shattering a truce. "Quin, don't do 
this! I belong to you not anybody else." 

"You belong to anyone to whom I either sell you or make a gift of you." His 
eyes were suddenly cold and left me friendless and afraid. This might well 
be only one more of his cute notions but I was not going to like it or make 
any pretense of pleasure. If I was kept in any kind of restraints, the 
things this child could do to me left me breathless in dismay. Audry's 
voice, heavy with reproach, returned me to reality. "Don't you want to 
belong to me, Candice. Mommy's told me you'd be ever so pleased. And she 
told me I shouldn't whip you too long or too hard or too often. You ought to 
feel grateful." 

"Can you think of anything you can do about it?" Helen asked evenly. "That 
is your wrist corded to the ring, isn't it, Candice dear? You don't have 
much bargaining power." 

I was close to panic, but common sense told me this might be annoying and 
humiliating but nothing more. We were a civilized quartet engaged in a 
bizarre play to please a man. I felt as though arrested and given a choice 
of behaving like an ass or going along quietly. The bindings bit at my wrist 
in mute warning. In the same rationale I played my trump card, "Quinlan, you 
can't possibly dispose of me, I have to go to work on Monday. I've got a 
job, responsibilities." 

"On Monday they'll be canceled, sweetheart. I've been thinking of separating 
you from that damned fool job for some time. Helen and I will take care of 
the necessary details. We can tell them you've been called away to some 
distant place." 

They could do it! My mind, quickly flashing over possibilities, told me how 
easily it could be done. By the end of Monday afternoon, Miss Candice 
Cosgrove could officially cease to exist. Feverishly I turned to the man I 
loved, "Quin, please don't, please don't.. . . ! " 

Quin did not answer. The silence was picked up by young Audry, "Mommy, don't 
you remember, you promised Candice would serve us drinks and be a slavegirl 
for us. I want to watch." 

Humiliation claimed me completely when the shinning chrome of my enslavement 
was placed in Audry's busy little fingers. She was obviously very happy and 
I could think of nothing to do except stand and let her clasp the leg irons 
on my ankles. With my wrist up high I really didn't have much choice. The 
moppet then got Quinlan's chair and stood upon it in order to deal with my 
tightly knotted cords. Immediately my hand fell free it was snapped into a 
metal cuff and, then while I was still uncertain what to do, the other 
wrists was clicked into the adjoining cuff to leave me in the shinning 
restraints over which Quinlan and I had so often laughed and found joy. I 
felt no joy now but stood uncertainly and massaged what the handcuffs 
allowed me to touch of my weals. 

"You know what to do, Candice. I want you to do it with your usual charming 
pleasance. You know the penalty for disobedience." 

I knew! Boy did I know!! But I was not about to give the watching eyes the 
pleasure of seeing me whipped. The handcuffs and leg irons were now serving 
the purpose intended, they were confining me to the will of others. I spared 
Quinlan a glance of reproach before going about my duties. Hating the whole 
thing I contrived to smile and perform my acts of servitude with good grace. 
My smile for young Audry was genuine enough, I had little doubt she was 
without guilt in what was taking place. When I had finished with my tiny 
tray, I set it aside and knelt submissively in the pose Quinlan loved so 
dearly. I bowed my head not so much in submission as in shame and listened 
while I was discussed. 

"I want her treated kindly," said Quinlan. "And I don't want her to know how 
long her sentence is to be. You'll find you can have a lot of fun with 
Candice without being intentionally cruel." 

"You're saying that to salve your conscious, Quinlan," Helen said firmly. 
"You know damned well we'll do what we want with her. If you want to make it 
permanent, we'll buy her. Name your price and I'll write you a check. She'll 
keep Audry amused for several years." 

"Sorry, Helen, no sale." 

I listened intently for regret in my master's voice. I was uncertain why he 
was doing this. 

"Just return her in one piece the way you got her," was his next comment. 

I had expected to serve a second round but Helen and Audry were impatient. 
When I had gathered their glasses and set them aside, Quinlan called me over 
and held up the tiny key. A moment later I was free and watching him hand my 
lovely silver shackles into Audry's eager grasp. Quinlan looked at me and 
this time I could believe there was a message in his eyes. "Go and get 
yourself dressed, sweetheart, can't have you walking into slavery with 
nothing on." 

I was half way to the bedroom when I realized what Quinlan's message really 
was: I was totally free! If I chose not to return to the lounge and our 
visitors, the choice was totally mine. I stood there, frozen in indecision, 
facing something I had no wish to face. 

I am sure Quinlan was quietly chuckling to himself over my dilemma, he would 
understand it perfectly. Furiously I realized he ran no risk. If I voluntary 
returned to Helen, he still owned me. If, on the other hand, I chose to 
leave the apartment and return to mine, he would feel quite certain that by 
evening I would come knocking on his door. In this he was quite right, there 
was no way I was going to easily give him up or renounce the erotic delights 
of his apartment. I was half dressed with the full intention of turning my 
back on the waiting trio when I realized I would not easily escape Helen's 
grasp. Inevitably I would drift back within my semi-imprisonment with 
Quinlan and with equal certain he would again hand me over to the waiting 
woman who's status in his life I could not tell. I had no doubt that if I 
chose that path I would be considered delinquent and punished accordingly. I 
didn't want to be punished. I could not win! In dumb misery I finished 
dressing, fixed my hair, and returned to whatever fate awaited me. 

"I want her handcuffed. Please, Mr. Robins, may I?" Audry was alight with 
joy. 

"Why not! She's yours." 

"Oh, Mommy, this is so exciting!" The young voice was vibrant with pride. 
Audry selected the handcuffs and approached me smiling. 

"You will stick your hands out, won't you Candice?" 

I looked at Quinlan but the face I loved was impassive. I turned to Helen 
and found her absolved and curious, concerned only with what her daughter 
and I might do or say. I stood for a moment indecisively and in an element 
of disbelief that this was happening. I held out my hands for the smiling 
nymphet. What the hell else was there to do! 

I could sense Audry's ecstatic glee as she clasp her metal around my wrist 
and clicked it shut. It was not until my hands were locked together that I 
thought to ask, "But you can't lead me through the streets like this. How 
can you take me out in public handcuffed like a criminal?" 

"Yes me can, sweetheart," Helen's voice was smooth and feline. "But we're 
not going to, we're taking you home in our car. Where did you get the idea 
we were walking?" 

"Candice can wear these lovely things for her feet, too, Mommy? Please let 
me put them on?" The nymphet was in full cry. 

I stood still for this extra attention, feeling foolish. For Quinlan and me 
these constraints to my freedom had been synonymous with nakedness but here 
I was fully clothed, a quite normal and business-like young woman and yet 
ironed like a criminal. I shrugged it off, it was one more incongruity. 

I guessed they were hoping that I would stumble over my shackled feet, that 
I would be humbled and brought low at the very commencement of my captivity. 
But I had learned too well how to walk with hobbled feet and denied them 
that satisfaction. Quinlan came with them to the car which was in the 
underground parking so I was not exposed to public view. Quinlan clasped me 
warmly in his strong and ardent arms. He kissed me and I kissed him. And 
again until we broke apart and I was lifted into the back seat of Helen's 
expensive transportation. Young Audry choose to sit beside me while her 
mother drove. I waved a pathetic little wave with handcuffed hands as my man 
disappeared from view. 

"Isn't this exciting!" Audry exclaimed breathlessly. "Mommy, may I pinch 
Candice's nipples now?" 

"No, you may not." Helen's voice was severe. "Remember what I told you, if 
you go overboard on nipple pinching, I'll free Candice's hands and let her 
pinch yours. How does that grab you?" 

"Ohhhhhh, that would be simply gorgeous Mommy. Would you really?" 

I could imagine that few of their conversations would include me. I had 
become a toy, a Barbie doll, a plaything for a child. I sat there fuming, 
and wondering what the hell to do with my chain hands. I never wondered this 
before but I do so now. I was suddenly ashamed of them. I was ashamed of 
this whole damned business and the subservience leading me to be possessed 
by this bizarre couple. Audry possessed a warmth her mother lacked, she 
would probably love me as a girl loves her dolls but she would probably give 
me pain, of that I was certain. 

I had expected magnificence and was not disappointed. It was a fine old 
house, undoubtedly worth a vast sum. The garage door opened silence and, as 
we entered the gloom within, I thought of Dante's inscription above the 
fatal door, "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." But things never turn out 
as you expect. With Audry's eager young fingers clutching my arm to lead me 
to my prison cell or whatever else she had in store, Helen's voice was 
incisive, "Run along, Audry, I'm going to have a talk with Candice. Have 
Mandy send up coffee to my room, it won't hurt you to wait an hour longer 
for something you've wanted all your life. Run along." 

I viewed Helen with a less jaundice eye, she was human. And whatever she 
wanted to say to me, I was anxious to listen. As the daughter flounced 
indignantly away I said to the mother, "Thank you. You're making me feel 
better about this whole thing. I don't mind telling you I feel an absolute 
ass." 

I followed her upstairs and along the corridor's passages. Helen guided me 
but her hand was gentle on my arm. Everything was contradictory, unexpected. 
I'd always seem Helen as something of a bitch but now I was unsure. If she 
was willing to act as a buffer between me and the teenager to whom I now 
belonged I would be grateful. I thought of Quinlan and the tears brimmed 
over in my eyes. 

It was a pleasant room along the lines of Quinlan's office. There was a desk 
and a filing cabinet and the like. But there was also a couch and chairs and 
a deep pile rug. The coffee arrived and was remarkably good. I don't know 
what there is about some people's coffee, but it can be so vastly superior 
to one's own that it makes you wonder. I sipped my appreciatively. There is 
something tremendously civilized about a cup of coffee. 

Helen gestured me to the couch, selecting an arm chair for herself. We held 
out cups, mine between chained hands, and sipped much in the manner of 
battles lines drawn in preparation for the fray. The maid who served us was 
a pert little trick who's eyes gleamed appreciatively at the sight of my 
irons. She did not linger even through I suspect she would have liked to. 

"I'm curious as to what you're expecting, Candice?" 

Helen was forwarded, I could be no less. "I'm expecting to be whipped," I 
admitted morosely. "And I'm expecting to be compelled to a lot of acts I'll 
loath. Is Audry a lesbian?" 

"What you're really asking is am I a lesbian? Isn't that right, darling?" 
Helen's voice was dry. 

"Well, I suppose so. None of this is easy for me. you know. I've been having 
a love affair with a man and all of a sudden I'm thrust into this atmosphere 
which is nine hundred percent female. Forgive me if I'm less than happy." 

"Sweetheart, you're wearing clothes and that's all wrong for you. Wearing 
those lovely metal bands you should be nude all the time." Helen's laughter 
tinkled. "I set you free so you can undress. Will you allow me to put the 
handcuffs and leg irons back on?" She paused to give me time to consider her 
suggestion before adding an enticing or aggravating, "Will you?" 

There might be no end to these decisions I was asked to make. Admittedly 
they were testing me but also they were inherent in the situation. I 
considered the possibility of flight from within this fortress of a house 
and deemed it nil. "Yes, I'll let you iron me afterwards." 

I'm sure I sounded surprised. "I don't understand why you think I'd feel 
more comfortable without clothes." 

"But it's true, isn't it darling." 

"Well.. . Yes, I suppose it is." 

Striving for nonchalance, I finished my coffee, put down the cup, and asked 
without preamble, "Now?" 

It was very much "now." The tiny key worked its magic and freed from 
handicaps, I stripped naked without the embarrassment I might once have 
felt. I was given little chance to change my mind but held out hands 
listlessly for the inviting cuffs and extended my feet for the bite of steel 
on ankles. Returned to normal I accepted another cup of coffee. 

"I want to tell you about young Audry," Helen said soberly. "She's a darling 
child but she's got this Thing about you. She thinks you're made to be 
whipped and that she can slash away at you to her heart's content. Apart 
from that she's a darling child." 

"You make her sound lovable," I said bitterly. "Are there also red-hot 
irons?" 

"Don't be bitter, darling. Audry will do only what I sanction. She'll hurt 
you a lot. You'll hate a great many of the things she makes you do or does 
to you." Helen smiled and shrugged. "But that's the nature of slavery, isn't 
it?" 

"I don't see myself as a slave. I see myself as a young woman who has been 
messed around and pushed around and disorganized until she can't see where 
she's at. I don't see why Quinlan couldn't have gone on as we were. This 
affair with you and Audry is utterly bizarre." 

"Perhaps." Helen swept my vehemence aside with a negligent wave. "But I'm in 
this too, you know. I'm curious as hell to watch young Audry go to work on 
you. And I'm curious about the way you'll act. In between times I'm going to 
enjoy you myself. I've got a few notions.. . . ! " 

I loved the coffee and drank it gratefully. I wondered about the pert maid 
and what the servants would think of a chained and naked woman in their 
midst. Bluntly I posed that question. 

"Oh, they'll simply adore you, Candice. It's nothing new in this house 
except this is the first time I've given a girl to Audry, she's still quite 
young. Previously I've enjoyed them for myself and the servants enjoy them, 
too. Just to keep an even balance I sometimes allow one of the servants to 
get in on the act." 

"If they're so damned willing and anxious I don't see why you don't use them 
instead of me." 

"Don't be bitter, darling. There is far more interest and excitement in you 
than in a servant who is paid a weekly wage. I've got you, you can't get 
loose even though you wish to." She busily poured more coffee. "You had you 
last chance at freedom. Quinlan gave you one and I gave you one a few 
minutes ago. Don't feel badly when I tell you that you could have gotten 
away in either case. You could have been on you way back home to your own 
place right now if you had so chosen." Helen laughed gaily. 

"I'll always be an absolute bitch, darling, in reminding you of things you'd 
rather forget. Mostly of lost opportunities." She mused quietly for a 
moment. "I've told you I won't let young Audry whip you to bits, but that 
doesn't mean that I won't. I adore whipping girls. I'm sure you sensed it 
the other day when Quinlan watched the two of us in our chosen roles. That 
whipping I gave you wasn't half as bad as you expected, was it? Come on, be 
honest?" 

"No, I suppose it wasn't. But I'd done nothing to deserve it and it still 
hurt. I don't think there is such a thing as whipping a girl with kindness. 
Anyway you slice it she gets pain." 

" You' re sweet the way you concede to that." Helen bestowed upon me a long 
and lingering gaze of speculation. "Audry is immensely sexual, you know. 
She's a regular little sex pot and I'm sure she'll put you through all sorts 
of sexual indignities. She's still reaching out for fresh discoveries. I 
can't promise you your nipples won't be sore as well as those lips down 
below your pubic hair. Sometimes it's an absolute bitch to be a girl, 
Candice. But then I suppose you already know." 

"Which comes first then, you and your whip, or young Audry with my tongue 
inside her crotch?" I demanded bitterly. "Or would you by some mischance 
have some good news for me?" 

"Oh, darling, that was so sweet. You're so mixed up, aren't you? You're so 
confused by awful decisions and wondering whether to speak your mind or 
remain silent. It must be a regular bitch of a thing to be a slavegirl, I 
almost wish I'd had the experience." 

"I'm sure Quinlan will offer it if that's what you want." 

"No, dear, it's not. Once I might of been intrigued enough but now I'm 
satisfied with the way I am. I'll live the enslavement vicariously between 
you and Audry. This morning the little so-and-so asked me if it would be OK 
to whip your cunt." 

I wanted to cry. All I said was, "Don't be beastly, that's a horrible thing 
to tell me. I want to like Audry, don't make me hate her." 

"She's also got some cute little clips for your nipples, darling. Audry has 
a real Thing about nipples. She's got some lovely ones herself and has an 
insatiable curiosity about the nipples of other girls. She's almost certain 
to whip your breasts sometimes so, just to be on the safe side, I've bought 
her a special whip with silken thongs. Don't get too concerned darling, it 
won't injure you." 

What a prospect! I moved uneasily within my bracelets and leg irons. Cruelty 
in silk and satin and lace, venom in lycra panties, and beastliness within 
the cups of a Maidenform bra. Helen must have read my thoughts for she came 
out with, "A real pair of bitches, aren't we! Quinlan's delivered you into a 
snake pit." She laughed at my dolor. "Forget it darling. Enjoy us both the 
way we're going to enjoy you. You've found a marvelous and wonderful game 
with Quinlan and the same things awaits you here. Of course, getting rid of 
your job delivered you to us full time, which is going to call for quite an 
adjustment from you. Think of it, Candice, a prisoner twenty-four hours a 
day, every day!" 

I had already thinking about that twenty-four hour thing. As far as I could 
see I was entering an imprisonment far more severe than anything I would 
endure in a state or federal institution. That is was heavily laced with 
eroticism and lust might alleviate whatever suffering I felt, but of this I 
could not be sure. I looked at the vibrant woman who held my life in her 
hands and pleaded abjectly, "Helen, please don't let Audry go wild on me? I 
like the girl, I don't want to hate her, I like you, I don't want to hate 
you. Please.. . Please.. . Please.. . ? " 

Helen laughed. "You're coming along nicely, darling." 

It was my only comfort. 

4 

Painful Pleasures 

My delivery to the nymphet named Audry was quaintly formal. She was summoned 
by a bell and Helen explained sweetly, "Darling, Candice and I understand 
each other. She knows that she will have to do what you tell her and that 
she will have to be an obedient companion. I've told her we will use the 
word companion instead of slave, I think it's so much nicer. You have my 
permission to hurt Candice quite a lot but, at the same time, I'm going to 
give you a test and see if you can make her love you. Her affection for you 
will be the goal. If you fall down on it badly I'll give you the whipping of 
your life. What do you say?" 

"Of course. Mother darling. I don't except anything else. I'll do what you 
say, I'll hurt Candice beautifully and gorgeously but I'll make her love me, 
too." The nymphet laughed outrageously into her mother's stern regard. "I 
won't get whipped, Mother. You'll see, I won't earn a whipping. I'll make 
Candice love me far more than she thinks she loves Mr. Robins gosh, he's so 
handsome. Please ask him to fuck me, Mommy, I think it would be so 
wonderful." Audry turned a glowing face to mine. "He has fucked you a lot, 
hasn't he, Candice? I'm going to make you tell me all about it. Just 
thinking of Mr. Robins gets me all wet between my legs and all goosey." She 
returned her appeal to her mother, "Please, Mommy, do ask him, even if it's 
only once. I have to start some time." 

The child was outrageous, but Helen simply looked at me, shrugged and 
smiled. It was evident I had much to learn about teenagers. 

"You're going to take over Candice from this point on," she told Audry 
soberly. "She can't give you any trouble, handcuffed and ironed as she is, 
but you'll have to devise your own ways of changing her around. There will 
be times when you might have to give her limited freedom and she might take 
advantage of it. No matter how you get to love each other you must never 
trust each other." 

She kissed me lingeringly and whispered, "Happy hurting, Candice," then left 
me alone with her daughter. I stood there feeling foolish and not knowing 
what to do with cuffed hands. The question was soon settled by Audry's 
unlocking the cuff from my left wrist and gathering my arms in back and 
relocking my hands there. She did it swiftly and I suppose I could have 
struggled but it never occurred to me to do so. With my ankles linked 
together I could never get out of the house and a tussle at the start would 
be a poor beginning. But now I was indeed helpless and felt quivers of 
delicious apprehension running up and down my spine. Audry had me, but good! 

I stood without a word to say, vividly conscious of a new vulnerability, my 
hands twisting anxiously of their own volition behind my back. I was not yet 
ready to either plead or to be an insincere sycophant. Gazing at my youthful 
mistress I noted she had, no doubt deliberately, dressed herself to seem 
younger than she was, a simple woolen sweater and tartan skirt, it reduced 
her to somewhere around twelve years old. Quietly and with great 
deliberation Audry approached and, her eyes mocking, reached up and clasped 
my nipples between mischievous fingers and thumbs. I stood still and allowed 
it to happen, if she only played with them it would give me intense 
pleasure, but if I was to be hurt, it was useless to fight a battle I could 
not win. 

"Want me to hurt them, Candice?" 

"No. I'm sorry, but I just don't." 

We stood, two females linked by avid young fingers from which flowed an 
electric current to set me afire. They were clever fingers and I knew this 
child was as old as the hills in spite of her seeming immaturity. Without 
warning twin fires burned my breasts to make me gasp with the pain of it and 
bend at the knees. Audry laughed, the pain stopped to leave behind a 
throbbing burn on each of my breasts. "See how mean I can be, Candice. I 
love having your hands behind your back, you can't do a thing. Let's 
experiment with something else. I'm going to pull out one of your pussy 
hairs." 

I stood passive. I didn't want to but was still working on the premise it 
was best to cooperation rather than antagonize. The amount of pain Audry 
contrived from a slow, slow plucking of a single hair was surprising. I 
presumed a gasp and wince permissible and did both. As reward I got the 
warmest of kisses. Audry was a clever little witch and was going to keep me 
posed between pain and pleasure. She was intently and ardently involved. 

"I think, darling, it would be so nice for us to talk but I don't want you 
to just stand and listen to what I have to say or the other way around. 
Let's do something while I chatter away, I've got the loveliest idea. Come 
along, it's right in this room." 

It was a massive, polished mahogany box. It could have passed for anything 
had it not been for the two holes on its upper surface. Audry commanded me, 
and then helped me, to lay upon the rug. She unlocked the leg irons and then 
dragged me, with surprising strength, to a position she desired. She then 
unfastened and removed that half of the contrivance against which my knees 
rested. I was putting two and two together and getting something I would not 
relish but decided to go along. I would withhold complaint until she hurt me 
enough to justify an appeal to her mother over her head. 

She straddled my bare shoulders and thrust me back until my knees were 
inside the contrivance as were my legs and with my ankles snug within the 
half circlets ready and waiting. When this eager girl replaced the free 
segment and locked it fast, I found myself laying on my breasts and tummy 
and with my legs lost to me within the heavy box which also imposed a firm 
grip upon my ankles to hold them as within a vice. It was a heavy box, 
solidly anchored, its wood at least two inches thick. I tentatively tested 
and discovered I was immobilized from my knees to my ankles, the soles of my 
feet pointing to the ceiling in open invitation. With my wrists handcuffed 
behind my back I was totally helpless and completely available to the young 
mischief about to work her will on my. 

"It's called the Bastinado, Candice. I expect you've heard of it." 

"Isn't it a way you torture people?" I asked unhappily. "Well, yes, sort 
of...." Audry was trying to pass a sober judgment on the horror within which 
my feet were solidly encased. Her voice brightened, "There's two ways of 
doing it, Candice dear. I can slash away at those lovely little soles right 
from the start and have you screaming away very nicely. Or there is the old 
fashion method were I just sit down and lightly rap the soles of your feet 
until you go crazy. I've never really tried that and I'm afraid it takes an 
awful long time. But that's the way we'll start out." She giggled. "That 
sort of makes it a conversation piece." 

Her instrument was a slender, supple wand. She let me have a good look at it 
before she drew up a stool and made herself comfortable facing the box so we 
could see each other clearly. She laughed, "Gosh, darling, you do look 
woebegone. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you first off. Mother would 
have my hide if I beat you so bad you couldn't walk. You can keep me posted 
as we go along. Please ask questions, Candice, if there's anything you want 
to know." 

So there I was, flat on my tummy, hands behind by back, but able to look 
sideways at the teenager who was about to work her will on me. My mind was 
in absolute turmoil between the three individuals who had placed me was and 
made a gift of me to this glowing girl. Hanging in there was the frightening 
prospect of loosing my job and being divorced from the way of life I had 
made for myself. I didn't want to loose that position in society I had made 
for myself. What I did want was to belong to Quinlan, preferably as his 
wife, but if not that then as his plaything. But I wanted to go to work each 
day and not be totally and permanently prisoner to anyone. With this woman 
and this child in this house my whole fabric of existence would be rent and 
torn to shreds and I would be nothing but a naked female constantly 
restrained so she could never go back to her former life. I thought of these 
things as I saw Audry pick up the wand. 

It was a strange, silly sort of sensation as she rhythmically began to beat 
the bottoms of my helpless feet in a manner not exactly painful but 
certainly not pleasurable. She could take her choice of placing her blow 
across both of my waiting soles or she could apply the wand to one or the 
other. She could go straight across or, by shifting position, apply the 
instrument from my toes to my heels. I was frighteningly conscious of the 
agony she could inflect but did not ask about it, deciding to wait until I 
was hurt before I screamed. The gentle impacts became a menacing 
counterpoint to what Audry had to say. 

"Just think, Candice, a few hours ago you were being happily fucked by that 
beautiful Mr. Robins. I'll bet you never even dreamed of this." 

"We did do other things beside that four letter word," I informed her 
primly. 

"Mommy tells me you often got whipped. Was it nice, I mean having a man whip 
your bare skin?" 

"It's nice if you love the man." 

"And he bought those lovely chain things for you?" 

"Yes, it made the things we did together more authentic." 

Audry grinned down at me while keeping up her steady application upon my 
soles. "This is going to be a big change for you, isn't it?" she said 
sagely. "I mean, what you did with Mr. Robins was just a five to bedtime 
thing and weekends, but now you're going to be a prisoner all day long and 
all night, too. And, like Mommy said, I'm going to have to keep you fastened 
so you can't ever get free." Her grin widened. "How does that grab you, 
Candice?" 

"What grabs me most right now is what you're doing to me feet. Do you really 
have to work at it so steadily? Couldn't you stop for a rest sometimes?" 

"It's not hurting, is it?" 

"It's a queer sort of feeling, not a bit nice." 

"Well, that's the way the book said," Audry said brightly. "Now I want you 
to tell me what it's like to have that great big thing pushed up inside 
you." 

"I don't want to talk about that." 

Her response was instant. The rhythm was shattered by a sharp blow across 
both my feet. I yelped with the pain and struggled uselessly there upon the 
rug. So far as moving my feet was concerned, they might as well have been 
encased in cement. 

"That hurt, didn't it, Candice dear?" The young voice was interested. "I'll 
hurt you like that every time you don't cooperate. Now tell me what it's 
like to have Mr. Robins way up inside you." 

I was close to tears of exasperation. I was so damn helpless! The rug was 
rough against my nipples and whatever part of my face rested on it. It was 
an outrageous indignity to be so totally robbed of hands but, while the wand 
busily tapped and rapped at my feet, I concocted some horribly pornographic 
descriptions of something I should not have had to speak of except to 
Quinlan himself. But since I was committed to the carnal tale, I made it as 
good as I could, a mouth-watering descriptive for Audry's edification. In 
spite of her attention she never for a moment paused in the incessant 
punishment which was now beginning to make itself evident in ways far from 
pleasant. I moaned and stirred restlessly. 

"You're beginning to feel it, aren't you Candice?" She sounded so damned 
pleased. 

"Of course I am. You've been doing it to me for five minutes or so and I 
can't move. Audry, please, haven't I had enough?" 

"But darling, we've scarcely started." Her surprise was genuine. 

As usual the things I wished to say were forbidden. I remained silent. But I 
could not refrain from the fretful motions of discomfort and reproachful 
glances at the child who held the wand. It was becoming evident that, if 
Audry kept up her impacting the wand against my flesh, I would undoubtedly 
reach a point of pain and then agony. Anxiously I inquired, "Have you done 
this to a girl before?" 

"No, but Mommy has. That's why she got this lovely thing you're fixed into." 

"But where does she get the girls and why do they allow themselves to be 
treated this way?" 

"Mostly she pays them," Audry informed wisely. "She says you can get a girl 
to say yes to anything if you give her enough money. But there were a couple 
who were genuinely kidnapped and didn't like this at all. When Mommy was 
through with them she had to sell them to a brothel. Would you like to be 
sold to a brothel, Candice?" 

"No, I wouldn't. What girl would! Audry, I think you're hitting me harder 
all the time, it's beginning to hurt. Please go easy." 

"No I'm not, darling. It's just the effect we have to expect. The book said 
that if you do it long enough each teeny-weeny stroke feels like a hammer 
blow." 

"How do you know so much about it?" 

Audry giggled. "Mommy punishes me sometimes for things she thinks I've done. 
One of the things she does is to lock me in the cell with one of her girls. 
You're the only girl we have right now so maybe I'll get locked in with you. 
She chains our necks together and makes me be all naked the same as the 
slavegirl. Then, just to be real mean, she tied our hands behind our backs 
so we can't play with each other." She laughed cheerfully at the thought. 
"It wasn't much fun at the time, but it did give me a chance to ask a bunch 
of questions. Boy, were those girls mad at Mommy! By the time morning came I 
wasn't very pleased with her myself." 

"I don't see why she has to get me this way when she can get other girls so 
easily. And I don't see why Quinlan made a gift of me, or whatever he's 
done. I'm sure I'm not a bit like those other girls." 

"But you've got too lovely nipples on two lovely breasts and you've got a 
wonderful patch of pubic hair and a cute pussy and a nice slim waist, 
darling. You're grade A material. I hope I get to keep you for the longest 
time, perhaps for life." 

Audry was not fantasizing, the wand told me that with authority. I was 
starting to jerk and gasp in the same rhythm as the beating of my feet. But 
through the growing pain I glimpsed the true awfulness of what Audry had 
just said. It was so damned plausible, I was already captive and could be 
kept thus indefinitely. I had less hope of escape than a girl in a prison. 
How the devil had my love play with Quinlan gotten me into a mess like this? 
I was feeling the beginning of hysteria when Helen came back into my view. 
She watched her busy daughter for the space of a minute before asking, 
"Everything going OK?" 

"Oh, yes, Mommy. She's a perfect darling and she's just beginning to jerk 
with the pain. We've had the nicest time talking." 

Uncompromisingly I said my piece. "Helen, get me out of this. Put a stop to 
it immediately. Quinlan doesn't want me tortured." 

"You're not being tortured, darling. Audry's just playing with you. I expect 
she'll stop after an hour or two." 

"I can't stand an hour or two. It's getting worse all the time." 

"Yes, that's the way it's suppose to me, Candice. I expect you to hang tough 
and give me a report on your experiences. If you suffer a little real pain 
later on, well it's all in a good cause. Don't be less of a heroine than 
I've judged you." 

It went on and on, steadily getting worse. After a while Audry had to 
admonish me to get answers to whatever she was talking about. I had become 
oblivious to her chattering and could only think of the increasing pain on 
my soles. I was beginning to comprehend this punishment as the fraying of 
the nerves, the rhythmic blows becoming more than the system could cope 
with. I was fearfully anticipating the next stroke while the last was still 
burning on my flesh. I remembered it as an Arabic punishment, and that's 
where it should have stayed. The soles of girls who walked besides camel 
trains would be tougher than mine. I was feeling sorry for myself and much 
abused. 

I don't know how long it lasted, but I do know I had been making shameful 
sounds for a long time before the bitter little strokes ceased to cut my 
feet. I don't know how to describe those sounds, I've made them often and am 
always shocking ashamed in thinking of them. I think them represent the 
nadir of consciousness, the point at which sensation compounds into nothing 
more than bitter pain which promises to go on endlessly. It is this vista of 
unending suffering which defeats a girl. But throughout my acquaintance with 
this horrible device, I could never discover the extent of what eventually 
would become pure torture. I suppose it is the not knowing which is the most 
potent part of the punishment. When the wooden block was divided to release 
my feet I continued to lay as I was in the blissful halting of the pain. I 
didn't want to move or do anything, most certainly not to walk. When Audry 
replaced the leg irons on my ankles, I said no word. "Darling, aren't you 
making a big thing out of this?" Audry asked sweetly. "You think you can't 
walk but you can, you know. In fact that's what we're going to do next, I'm 
going to give you the grand tour." 

I did not want the grand tour, but what I wanted no longer counted. A loving 
young hand helped me to my feet and I was shocked and a bit chagrined to 
find them only tender and not agonized. I clinked musically beside Audry, a 
dismally unenthusiastic tourist in a land she did not want to see. 

It was a truly beautiful mansion. When we encountered staff they nodded and 
smiled to tell me wordlessly how many other girls like me must have trod 
where I was now led in captivity. Having her hands chained behind her back 
makes a girl so shockingly helpless it's almost frightening, emphasizing as 
it does the protrusion of her breasts and availability of what lies between 
her legs. 

"The downstairs is not a bit dank or dismal, Candice. It's cleverly heated 
and there's a couple of cells and a couple of dungeons. Yes, honest! And 
they're the real thing," she giggled as she remembered times past. "And I 
should know, I'm been in them enough." 

"Your mother locks you in a dungeon!" 

"Well, not too often, dear, but sometimes when I've really messed something 
up.. . I do my damnedest never to get locked in a dungeon. Dungeons are the 
absolute pits. But if you do get locked in one, I'll try to get locked in 
with you. We can rattle our chains at each other and tell ghost stories. I 
was always sure there were ghost in there after dark, lurking in the shadows 
and waiting to do terrible things to me. I think that's the worst thing 
about dungeons, the things you can't see over there in the dark places. Do 
you notice the lovely rings Mommy has in the walls everywhere, just like Mr. 
Robins. They're ever so handy when you want to 'park' a girl." 

I saw everything. A prisoner's eyesight is acute in observing things by 
which she will be hurt or held. Everywhere beneath the normalcy of this 
lovely dwelling the conveniences of bondage lay in wait for unwilling wrists 
and ankles and necks. Helen could have made captive twenty girls at a time 
without crowding. 

The cells were authentic enough to crinkle the spine. They made me remember 
a trip to Alcatraz and the shivers I had found in the tiny concrete cubicles 
behind the bars. It was not so much that they were dark or gloomy, but 
instead it was their implacable threat of something inescapable. This and 
the ugly utilitarian plumbing. But any shivering I had failed to provide in 
the cells, I more than made up for in the dungeons. Audry, giggling happily, 
pointed out all their disagreeable features and I could well understand what 
she said about their ghosts. When she closed the door the sound of the thud 
sent my heart plummeting. 

It was about evening and time for dinner. The meal was glitteringly 
conventional and in all ways normal except for the guest. I remained naked 
and chained and by way of dressing for dinner I was given a gem-studded 
collar around my neck. I did not placed it there myself, it was put there 
for me and closed with a formidable sound, almost as horrible as the thud of 
the dungeon door. The servants did their smiling and nodding and Helen 
carried the conversation with such skill I found myself almost forgetting 
where I was and what I was. Audry maintained strict decorum. Evidently her 
latitudes of outrageous conduct and speech did not extend to dinner. 

I will never know if Audry asked or if the idea was purely Helen's. But 
after I had done my waitress act and served the brandy after dinner, it 
seemed no more than right and to be expected when Helen said, "You'll spend 
the night in one of the cells Audry showed you, Candice. It's one of the 
experiences you must not miss. We're much better equipped here than Quinlan 
in that department." 

Audry discretely disappeared. I was to find out why later, but for the time 
Helen and I were alone. The handcuffs had been taken from back to front for 
the serving of the drinks. They were now completely discarded and my hands 
bound behind my back with twine. Helen crossed my wrists with severe 
competence and wound strand after strand of the thin stuff deep into my 
skin, crossing and crisscrossing and then knotting it tightly in a place my 
fingers could never reach. 

"A bit more sporting, Candice dear. Handcuffs are so.. . Well, they're no 
use fighting against, are they? But tied with twine the way I've tied you 
now, you can always hope. I know you can't get free but you can't be sure. 
If you struggle too hard that thin stuff will cut your skin." 

She was right on all counts. The twine made me more captive than the 
handcuffs ever could. If it did indeed hold the possibility of an un-likely 
freedom, well that was something I would have to find out about. I was taken 
downstairs, safely leg-ironed, tightly bound, and thrust within a cell and 
the door slammed shut. It seemed to have a great many bolts and locks which 
Helen took pleasure in noisily fastening. She blew me a kiss through the 
bars then left me alone. 

It was pure desolation. A desuetude of lonely misery. I stood there looking 
at the concrete and the bars, the toilet and the washbowl, and the bench. I 
wanted to cry but no tears came. I looked out into the passage between the 
bars but only concrete and brick were visible. I went to the door and thrust 
at it with my hip in an absurd hope but all I accomplished was a bruised 
hip. The jeweled collar around my neck must have seemed an incongruity in 
this forbidding place. I wish I could reach it but could not. 

I was sitting on the bench an hour later, idly kicking at the chain between 
my ankles and wondering how I could possibly sleep in this stark loneliness 
when I heard the sounds, they were unmistakable. Audry was on her way. 

This was not the Audry I had seen before. This one was as naked as I and on 
her neck was exactly the same collar, every bit as tight. Her complaints 
echoed to me down the corridor, "But, Mommy darling, I haven't done 
anything. Why must I be punished?" 

"Because you're a impertinent little snippet who says the wrong things at 
the wrong times. Those remarks of yours about Mr. Robins are unforgivable. 
You can spend the night with dear Candice." Helen chuckled. "You'll keep her 
from going stir-crazy." 

"Oh, Mommy, is this were she is, is this what you've done with her? Oh, 
jeepers!" The young voice was suddenly vibrant with pleasure. "Mommy, 
darling, please don't tie our hands behind our backs like you did last 
time." 

They came to a halt outside my cell door, the nymphet sparkly-eyed, the 
mother grim. Audry maintained a steady flow of complaint while her arms were 
gathered in back and her wrists crossed and bound as were my own. She 
obviously expected this treatment but felt compelled to protest. But the 
most remarkable thing about Audry was her nakedness. She might lack the 
luscious curves of maturity but she certainly had their beginnings together 
with a large, black triangle above her crotch. She stood, chin up, while her 
hands were immobilized by twine, and winked slyly at me through the bars. My 
ankles bore the leg irons but hers were join by the simple expedient of a 
length of chain fastened around each ankle by a padlock. When she was 
propelled within my cell, she was pushed close and we were locked together 
by another two foot length of chain and a padlock to each of our collars. It 
became most evident the collar was more than just decoration. But it was 
difficult for either Audry or me to move without snubbing our neck. It was a 
remarkable togetherness. 

"Make her behave herself, Candice. If she becomes too impossible, you can 
bit her nipples or her ear or something. She's a bit smaller than you so 
you've got the advantage this time, use it. The little vixen will twist you 
terribly if you let her." Helen kissed me and patted her daughter's bare 
bottom before she went away and once again through the ritual of the 
clanging door. 

"She's so mean!" Audry said angrily when her mother was out of ear shot. "I 
mean I do want to be in here with you, Candice, but the way she's tied our 
hands and the way she's chained our necks, we simply can't reach each other. 
Except to lick each other's tits and that'll simply drive us crazy. Were you 
scared when she left you here alone?" 

"It was horrible," I told her with deep sincerity. "You don't know how glad 
I am to see you even if we are fixed the way we are. You've got the 
loveliest body." 

"Well, yours isn't all that bad, is it Candice? I hope I swell out in all 
the nice places like you but keep that taut tummy. I suppose you know we're 
both going to get our bottoms caned tomorrow? She told me on the way down." 

"Well, don't let's think about it," I enjoined solemnly. "We've got enough 
troubles the way we are. I don't suppose there's any use our trying to untie 
each other's hands?" 

"No way! Mommy's got a deal on that, too. If we did by some mischance get 
free, we'd be punished by being whipped twice as hard and maybe in twice as 
many places," she snorted angrily. "That's the frustrating thing about being 
tied with cord, you really do want to try and free yourself. But then, if 
you succeed, all you get out of it is another punishment. This whole thing's 
a real pussy pucker. Are you horny?" 

"Of course, I am. Having you chained to me like this is erotic as hell. 
Can't you smell?" 

"I wasn't sure if it was you or me. I don't know yet if we have different 
scents. Oh, damned this chain on our necks. It's worst than having our hands 
tied." 

"Look, Audry, this has got me all mixed up. I thought I was your slave, that 
I belong to you. But here you are being punished right along with me." 

"Well, darling, it's a bit of a mixed up affair all around. I'm not sure I 
can explain it. It may not seem like it but I think Mommy's being very 
practical this evening. She was nervous about leaving you chained and tied 
and alone down in this cell. She was worried about you getting hysterical. 
And she did promise Mr. Robins not to let you get hurt. So I think that's 
why we're chained together, not that I mind a bit, I think it's real groovy. 
Do you think you could get your knee up inside my crotch? And I'll do 
yours?" 

Audry was irrepressible and impossible but delightful. This was indeed a new 
experience for me, I'd never been chained or bound to another female in my 
life. I could imagine Quinlan laughing his head off back in the apartment. 
But what I was concerned about was how the two of us were going to sleep on 
the hardwood, narrow bench. 

"Why, one on top of the other, of course darling!" Audry assured me without 
seeming to find anything wrong with the idea. "I'll sleep on top of you if 
you like because I'm much the lightest. But I don't mind being on the bottom 
if you like." 

"But isn't there any other way.. . ? " 

"Only on the floor and I've tried that and it's bloody awful. But don't 
worry, we'll sleep on the bench and we can turn ourselves over in the middle 
of the night like a pancake. But now darling, about what I was saying.. . 
You know, getting you knee up inside?" 

I did my best at it and Audry was almost professionally competent with her 
youthful knee. It was a quaint introduction to Lesbos. 

5 

Perennial Prisoner 

The familiar streets would never, for me, be the same again. Walking them in 
freedom on my way to the office, my mind was still carrying the image of the 
cell, of the concrete and the bars and the chains. I was still intoxicated 
by Audry's female scent and all her wiggling sensuality. Audry was an 
immature Houri to drive any man or woman insane with lust for that very same 
immaturity which would later flower into something totally devastating. I 
was still tasting her salty skin. 

I was gloriously happy for once that in all this strange mixture of emotions 
I was free of awful decisions. I was going to my usual place and my usual 
office. I had not lost my job and was not a prisoner for life. Yet it had 
seemed so real! 

It was Helen who had freed me from the cell, leaving her indignant daughter 
chained to one of the bars by the small chain that had linked our necks. Her 
hands and feet had remained bound as they were. We were allowed to kiss and 
say goodbye before I was taken away. Audry was as thunder-stuck as I. 

"This may be unkind, sweetheart," Helen told me as she untied the bitter 
twine from my wrists, "but it was something Quinlan wanted, so why not! You 
got something out of it, and I want to tell you in all sincerity you could 
just as easily be chained in this house for life. I wasn't fooling about 
that possibility. It was very real and still a possibility. But if that 
becomes something you desire, you'll have to come here and ask for it of 
your own free will." 

"I'm hardly-likely to do that, am I?" 

"I don't know, dear, only time will tell us that. You're still not sure of 
me and what I could or would do to you. I find you exquisitely delicious." 

I gazed down to watch my feet unlocked. I then lifted my head to allow the 
collar to be removed. I was nakedly free! My bare bottom was patted and I 
was laughingly told to run along and get myself dressed. I would be driven 
to within walking distance of my office. In terrible excitement and fear 
that someone might change their mind, I obeyed everything. Now, here I was 
back to square one. The only question mark remaining was of Quinlan. Was he 
at square one, too? 

It felt so good to be back in the apartment, nothing was changed even though 
it seemed I had been gone a century. I did my daily act of removing my 
clothes and going through the ritual Quinlan had devised, I handcuffed 
myself and locked the leg irons on my feet. When Quinlan returned I was 
kneeling submissively in the accustomed place, my tray ready for the 
expected drinks. But I could not wait, I wanted him too much for any rituals 
to stand between. I got to my feet and, snubbing my chain at ever step, went 
to him and, lifting my cuffed hands over his head, embraced him with a 
fervor as though I had thought he lost forever and all of a sudden my world 
was well again. Whatever Quinlan did to me would not matter I belonged to 
him utterly. If he choice to make any experiments at my expense, I would 
obey. I whispered a strange mixture of adoration, explanations and 
excitement in his ear, until he lifted my hands back over his head, swatted 
my bottom, and told me to get busy mixing the cocktails. No girl ever obeyed 
more fervently than I. 

"Why did you come back her this evening, Candice? Why didn't you go back to 
you own place and wash your hands of me?" 

My answers was prompt, "Because I'm in love with you." 

"You're in love with love, Candice, my pet. Or maybe all these lovely 
amusements we share. I was a bastard to you Saturday. For all you knew you 
belonged to Helen and would a whipping girl for her little daughter for the 
rest of your life." 

"It was what you wanted so I did it, it was that simple." I reconsidered to 
add, "Or maybe it isn't simple at all. Maybe you've unearthed in me some 
latent submissiveness I never knew about. But even it that's so, it would be 
only with you." 

"You want to marry me, don't you.? " 

"Of course I do, it would solve everything if there is anything to solve." 

"No it wouldn't." Quinlan laughed at my little girlishness. "If we were 
married, you'd want to do over the apartment and you'd resent the time and 
pain you'd have to devote to my erotic amusements." 

"I won't! You know I wouldn't. I couldn't possibly give up the things we do 
together, they've become a part of me. I think they always were. Quinlan, 
don't underrate me." 

"OK, OK!" Quinlan waved an airy hand. "I never have underrated you, 
sweetheart, I think you've overrated me. I really am a bit of a bastard, you 
know." 

I fetched the second drinks. As I leaned forward to present his I picked up 
his man smell in pungent waves. Kneeling between his knees I was close to 
the weapon by which I was impaled. It exuded Quinlan's pungency to make me 
long for bed and to hope he was picking up my woman smell in return. 
Fiercely I said, "You remember the story of O, and how she told her beloved 
how he could put her to any test and she promised to come through. Well, OK, 
do that with me. I passed some sort of test with Helen and that outrageous 
child. Well, give me another. If I come through then marry me." 

"Marriage would spoil the whole thing, sweetheart, believe me it would." 
Quin's eyes, looking down at me, were tender and a little sad as though 
performing an onerous task. He said, "Marriage isn't the answer to 
everything, it's not the answer to me. You want to be put to a test, well 
OK, I'll go along with you. Instead of going to bed we'll go to that room 
you can't possibly love. If you wish to ask for it, I'll make absolutely 
sure you do not love me when we come out." 

"I can't ask for... What you said. But I'll accept the rest gladly." 

It was one of those halcyon moments. Something had been settled and would 
follow a course. We were content with each other as we were and, if this man 
who was my master thought I needed some kind of lesson, well then, why not! 
Outrageously I plied us both with cocktails to make our "happy hour" longer 
than was our wont. Heedless of dinner, the man I adored picked me up bodily 
and carried me to where he would try to kill my love. 

Instruments and engines of torture are a bore. They are rarely aesthetic and 
mostly look like what they are. To be placed in the embrace of any of them I 
must be relieved of irons. And this Quinlan did with a preoccupied air, 
setting them aside for future use. I stood quietly aside, awaiting his 
convenience. I had never felt more enslaved. 

"First you bottom and the cane, sweetheart." 

It was a simple device, fastened solidly to the wall, not un-like the wooden 
box Audry had used to imprison my feet. This one imprisoned both my feet and 
my hands to leave me standing well bent down with my bottom beautifully 
available. It was a frightening experience. My "cure" was to be a yellow 
length of whippy cane my master flexed back and forth for my regard. 

"It hurts like hell when you're bent over and stretched, Honey." 

"I'm sure it does. You won't mind if I do some screaming?" 

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't. I'm not going to gag you." 

Quinlan's fingers on my skin were gentle and strong and altogether to be 
desired. I hated the position I was in, not because of what it was and the 
pain I would suffer therein, but because I felt untidily exposed and was 
blushingly aware my pussy had chosen this moment to explore the 
possibilities of peeking out behind. Some pussies do this when you least 
want them to. Mine is one. 

"Remember, Candice darling, you'll be able to stop this anytime by saying 
yes, I am a brute and you want nothing to do with me. I'm not actually going 
to work on you with that end in mind but it just could happen." 

"Oh, shut up, Quin. I've got enough to think about without a decision like 
that. The only sounds I'll promise to make are screams. Or do you want to 
gag me?" 

"No gag, beloved girl, you look exquisite as you are, beautifully bent." 

Quinlan was right about that. I was in the ancient "touch your toes" 
position of childhood in other days. But within the firm and solid box which 
held my feet and hands most firmly but out of sight, my fingers could not 
find my toes. Not that it mattered, they were in there somewhere. I felt at 
least ninety percent bottom. 

Always when I had been whipped or caned or strapped there had been pauses, 
they had been deliberate for their mental effect as well as to let the agony 
of each stroke expend itself to the full before being followed by the next. 
Perhaps in need of some diversion, or just wishing to break the trend, 
Quinlan now swished away with his cane with a swift series of blows which 
paused only long enough for him to change sides and treat both sides of my 
bottom to their fair share of anguish. The shock as each blow piled upon top 
of blow was such as to drive me to screaming instantly. I didn't care a bit 
about dignity or how I looked. I was simply a naked female thing who's 
bottom was wickedly being caned and who was making sounds appropriate to the 
occasion. I did not apologize then nor do I now. The beating of my bottom 
was cruel and unenduringly painful. It was not until I bend at the knees and 
began to sway dangerously that Quinlan let up. By then I must have received 
twenty or thirty strokes. 

"A wonderful performance, Candice. Want some more?" 

I could not match his flippancy. The best I could manage was, "Oh, Quinlan, 
ohhhhhhh...!" 

"Ah, well, perhaps you've been in that quaint device long enough. I'll tell 
you honestly, sweetheart, I hate to release you, you've the prettiest 
picture ever. Quite sure you wouldn't like a few more?" 

"Quite sure, darling. I'm on fire back there still. Jeepers, you've never 
done it to me like that before." 

"Variety is the spice of life, my pet. Unfortunately I have to break the 
news that what you've just had is only the first installment. Sure you don't 
hate me yet?" 

"Yes, I'm quite sure, Quinlan. If you want to leave mc standing here because 
I look pretty, I won't complain. This device doesn't really hurt." 

Playfully, Quinlan took the pouting lips of my rearward, exposed pussy and 
pinched them. "What's this little item doing sticking up behind? It's 
suppose to stay discretely hidden." 

"I don't really know, but that's the nature of it," I admitted in that 
absurdly polite conversation. "You hit it several times with that cane and I 
expect it serves it right. Is it badly swollen?" 

"Still serviceable, my lover, we'll put it to good use later For the moment 
I'm thinking of graduating you to some treatment of your back." 

"What you're saying is you intend to whip my back, is that right." 

"Alas, yes, I am insufferably cruel. Don't hesitate to say you don't love me 
any more." 

When my hands were freed and I stood erect with fingers feeling my wounded 
bottom, I inquired, still in the same vein, "You could have whipped my back 
the way I was. Why didn't you?" 

"Just a sense of what's proper, my pet. You bend over for your bottom, you 
stand up for your back. Do you mind?" 

That "do you mind" was pure satire and we both knew it. I had just come 
through one of the most terrible bouts with pain I had ever endured and I 
was wondering about this stupid exchange, but I realized it was a form or 
repartee designed to boaster my morale and keep me on an even keel. It was 
not everyday a girl got her bottom caned and then, for desert, got her back 
whipped. I was going to be outrageously marked and I hoped I would not faint 
beneath the lash. There was moments under the cane when things had been 
getting a bit hazy. I was getting the severest of punishments and wondering 
why I was so calmly resigned. I suppose it could have been that I had no 
choice. My feet were still firmly locked, and I could easily be whipped the 
way I stood if Quinlan so desired. I tried hard not to think of anything 
except how good it would be when it was all over. 

I suppose, theoretically, I had one more chance to make a break for freedom 
when Quinlan freed my feet and I stood nakedly without bonds, still 
massaging my burning rump. It was strange to move my fingertips across my 
flesh and feel it ridged and scolding. I remembered the corrugated 
washboards my grandmother had once used. But soon, and very gently, Quinlan 
possessed himself of my reaching arms, crossed my wrists in front and began 
binding them together with cord. I watched without much interest. I took it 
for granted I would be made helpless and it did not matter much by what 
means this would be achieved. Watching Quinlan's work I supposed I was to be 
hung up by my arms, maybe with my feet off the floor, and thus whipped to 
his pleasure. I underrated him. 

When my wrists were securely bound, my master gathered me in his arms and 
laid me on the floor. He bandaged my ankles tight together an entire roll of 
soft, wide bandages, which felt good but held me as securely as rope. The 
rope came next, it was threaded between my legs and knotted around the 
bandages. It was one of those that went up to the ceiling and which had held 
me previously. For a moment or two I did not realize what was about to 
happen but when Quinlan touched the switch and the motor whirled, my feet 
started to raise towards the ceiling. After half a minute I was totally 
suspended by my ankles. It was the strangest feeling in the world, 
everything was upside down and once more I knew how vulnerable I was. Once 
more my hands were a problem, I knew not what to do with them. They could 
reach nothing that mattered and anyway I held them, they seemed to interfere 
with something that did. I comprised by holding them tight against my 
concave tummy. "Get the idea, sweetheart?" 

"You're going to whip me while I'm upside down. Ohhhhhhh, Quin...!" 

"I won't keep you upside down too long, darling. I think the record is two 
or three hours but we're not trying to break a record. If you're worrying 
then please stop. The whipping of your beautiful back is going to be just as 
fast as the canning of your beautiful bottom. Do what you like with your 
hands, they can't bother anything." 

Quinlan was right. It was the same only different and much, much worse. 
Bottoms are made to be whipped or caned but backs are different. Backs hurt 
like crazy. Quinlan slashed away at mine with stroke after bitter stroke, 
building to a crescendo of pain in which I heard myself screaming and 
screaming. He turned my nakedness to make it revolve as might a puppet on a 
string. Each time my back passed by, he cut at it with first one whip and 
then another. I suppose none were too savage or cruel but they hurt bitterly 
and I was curling up inside with the increasing pain when my whipping ceased 
and my love held out his hand to stop me turning. 

"Guess how many you've had, darling?" he asked in a voice vibrant with 
feeling. 

"Thirty?" 

"Close enough. Actually twenty-eight. You screamed beautifully." 

Quinlan let me down. I suppose neither of us was experienced in the matter 
of upside down ladies. I remember reading once that the period of survival 
was only a matter of minutes but this must have been false. It had not taken 
Quinlan longer than ten minutes to whip me the twenty-eight times and I was 
still, as far as I could tell, normal. That is, except for the searing scold 
of agony upon my skin. I was able to help my return to the carpet by using 
my bound hands but once there I lay supine and breathless and bathed in 
sweat, the smell of me was both beautiful and awful according to the point 
of view. 

"I could whip the soles of your feet, darling," Quinlan suggested 
conversationally. 

I started to cry. I just couldn't help it. I had been punished so much and 
now he wanted to whip my feet! I allowed my tears to flow without concern 
for what I looked like. I somehow knew I could not endure the whipping of my 
feet without going overboard into a mental unbalance. A moment later I was 
picked and comforted within male arms. Quinlan's voice held urgency. "I told 
you I was a bastard. Do you still wish to love me?" 

"Yes." 

There wasn't much else to say. 

We were extraordinarily happy with each other. I contented myself with the 
thought that my most awful punishment had exorcised a devil from Quinlan's 
mind. I could have no doubt of his love. The hurts I received in this time 
seemed playful things and most needful in the role I played. I kept thinking 
of it as a role but I knew it was not that at all, I was simply being ME. I 
was grateful Quinlan loved me as I was. Every evening after five and every 
Saturday afternoon I gave myself to him in totality. I was rarely free of 
marks. The weals left by my caning and the whip took almost a month to 
disappear. We checked on them daily and lavished praise upon their cycles of 
recovery. A girl's skin is a constant joy to herself and anyone who owns 
her. 

By now I thought I knew Quinlan very well. There would be other tests and my 
only concern with them was my ability to survive with my love for my master 
undiminished. It was during this time I received a promotion at the office 
and realized, with an element of wonder, I owed my increased ability to cope 
with problems and remain alert to Quinlan's treatments in the apartment. A 
whipped girl becomes exquisitely sentient, a caned bottom is most vividly 
alert. I took my promotion home and boasted of it with joy but Quinlan was 
unimpressed, saying it was only woman stuff and didn't amount to much. He 
dealt with millions! I felt more enslaved than ever. 

It was at the end of this happy time the "awful thing" happened. 

It was Saturday. Quinlan had gotten up early for a quick trip to the office 
in order to be back by noon. I was lazy and still in bed when the doorbell 
rang. The doorbell never got answered when Quinlan was not here. I obviously 
could not perform the function while handcuffed, leg-ironed and minus 
clothing. I had got used to it ringing and people going away. I thought that 
had happened now when I heard an unfamiliar sound within the apartment 
itself. I sat up, startled, then hastily wrapped the coverlet around my 
nudity and clinked my way out into the hall. Two men were there, we stared 
at each other in surprise and shock. They looked tough and middle aged and 
their clothes didn't look right. Neither was their speech, "Damn it, Luke, a 
lousy broad!" 

"What the hell else can you expect, a guy with all that dough?" 

"Damn it, Vincent," the first man replied, "lookit them chains she's 
wearing. And I'll bet ya she ain't got a thing on under that there cover." 

Vincent gave me his full attention. "Say, lady, you been arrested for 
something?" 

I still didn't know they were burglars and said the wrong thing. "Mr. Robins 
is still at his office. You can phone him there until noon." 

"We know. We seen him go. You may as well go back to bed, we're only going 
to pick up a few things. We'll soon be gone." 

"Shit, Vincent, we can't leave her loose. First thing she'll do is go to a 
phone. Best things we take her with us and keep an eye on her." 

"Maybe Robins has to keep an eye on her, she's chained up real good. C'mon 
lady, show us his office." 

I stood in disgusted helplessness and watched them make a shambles of 
Quinlan's desk and break open his filing cabinets. Here was helplessness 
indeed! But even without the handcuffs or leg irons I could have done 
little. They could have easily controlled me anyway. It was not until they 
had gathered up a pile of documents and stuffed them into briefcases that my 
real agony began. 

"Damn it, Luke, the broad's had a good look at us. We can't leave her 
running around." 

"What's it matter! She ain't gonna see us again and Robins ain't gonna know 
who's messed his office up. After we're out the door she can make all the 
phone calls she wants." 

"Yeah, Vincent, I know. But ain't you noticed something the girl's a 
looker." 

My heart beats slowed then raced. The two of them were looking at me in a 
way I knew all too well, every girl knows it. But I was naked and chained 
and totally aware of helplessness. Vincent was looking at me and nodding as 
though suddenly noticing something. 

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? " he asked his friend. 

"You want we should take her along? This ass-hole Robins might pay a million 
to get her back." He looked me up and down, "How come he got you chained up 
that way, lady?" 

I racked my brain to try to come up with an answer to deter them. But there 
was none. Lamely I offered, "It's a game we play. It's none of your 
business. Just leave me alone and go away. Mr. Robins will unlocked them 
things when he gets home." 

They shrugged. It did not matter. But they were practical men. "You got a 
key to get yourself loose or can you tell us where there's around this 
place?" 

"I don't know of one. There'd be no sense in Mr. Robins' locking these 
things on me then leaving the key around. Please go away." 

"We ain't so sure 'bout that. Could be you's worth more than this stuff in 
this case." 

"Don't be silly, I'm just a girl he picked up overnight. He put these chains 
on me just so I can't leave until he comes home and pays me. Look, if you're 
frightened about me phoning, you can easily tear the phones out of the 
wall." 

"Don't matter much what her story is, we gotta get her outta here." There 
was a course guffaw. "For sure, we can't walk her out the way she is." 

"Best way is we use the freight elevator. We tie her to a chain, damned good 
and tight, and we gags her so's she can't do any yapping, then we carries 
her out draped with a rug over the whole thing. Ain't-likely no one is 
asking no questions, seein' how it's early Saturday morning we ain't-likely 
to see anyone." 

"Shit! It's taking one awful big chance." 

"Hell! If things go sour on the job we just drop her and leave. By the time 
someone's got her so she can talk, we gone." I listened to this exchange, my 
heart in my boots. I didn't have any boots, I didn't have anything. And what 
was worse I couldn't think of anything to say that they would pay attention 
to. When they started tearing a curtain into strips I knew I had the course. 

The first thing they did was gag me. I suppose that's that most practical 
thing to do with a girl who's-likely to scream. I went through all the 
motions of struggling and trying to scream, none of which did me a particle 
of good, they handled me as if I were a child. And being handcuffed and 
chained didn't help either. My mouth filled with rag and my lips tightly 
bound with several strips of cloth, I was mute during the indignity of being 
bound to the chair. First off I lost my covering but these men seemed little 
interested in female charms other than for commercial value. They bound me 
to that damned chair quite firmly, taking their time to do a good job and 
insure I would be completely immobilized. I was! When the last band was 
tugged and knotted tight upon my nakedness I could do nothing more than 
twitch. They draped the coverlet over me and my chair. In darkness I was 
carried from my home. 

I could not follow whatever breathless moments they had while carrying me to 
their car. I could follow only the general sounds of the elevator and then 
the traffic. I struggled for I realized this was my only hope of attracting 
help and attention. I persistently tried to scream but that was a lost 
cause. In fact the whole thing was a lost cause. Vincent and his friend Luke 
got me and my chair into whatever vehicle they drove and the sound of the 
motor told me I was on my way to whatever, perhaps even the famous fate 
worse than death. Or maybe even death itself, but most certainly away from 
Quinlan and our love. 

It was the neatest of kidnappings and no doubt owed much to their taking 
advantage of a golden opportunity. 

Throughout this whole time I was in a fine dither with the realization that 
all around me there were people but I could do nothing to attract their 
attention and get their help. Never had ropes and gag made a girl more 
helpless. Never had I been so denied freedom. The awfulness of not being 
able to move or speak during this period dwarfed all previous restrictions 
imposed by Quinlan. From the depths of my immobility I was willing to 
recognize the degree in which Quinlan and I had played a precious game. This 
was real! 

When the car stopped I sensed an underground garage but could see nothing. I 
was left alone. It was a terrible darkness for I knew not what it contained. 
Once again I fought the ropes and gag. It was a useless but better than 
thinking. I knew if I could get one strand free.. . ! But Luke and Vincent 
had made a masterly job of my binding, I was as secure as ever when they 
returned. I recognized them only by their grumbling voices while they 
carried me. Once more we were in an elevator. Doors opened and closed and 
voices murmured until I was dumped firmly on a floor and the coverlet 
whisked away to leave me blinking in the light. 

He was smooth and heavy with a caustic eye. He was expensively dressed and 
was the typical concept of the owner of a casino or the leader of a labor 
union. He eyed me, my nakedness arousing no interest. He continued what must 
have been a previous diatribe. "I need another broad like I need a hole in 
the head. She'll just be a pain in the ass!" 

"But, Lucio, think of the ransom! That guy Robins has got dough." Vincent 
was aggrieved. "Shit, we could ask a million!" 

"You think Robins will pay money for a broad he keeps handcuffed and 
legironed?" Lucio sounded derisive. "Hell, if he was in love with the dame 
he wouldn't keep her in that kind of a fix." 

"She told us it's some damned fool game they play, it don't mean nothing." 

"Take her gag off, let's here what she has to say," said Lucio. "At least 
you did a good snatch job." 

I was scared to death. I said just about what a scared girl would say under 
those circumstances, "Mr. Robins will give you money to get me back. Please 
don't hurt me." 

I might as well have kept quiet. 

"Tells us about them irons you got on and why you're naked. You working on 
your own or do you belong to a house?" 

I did my best but they listened in a predetermined disbelief. I never felt 
more naked in my life and less a girl than a piece of merchandise. I pleaded 
hard, "Just phone Mr. Robins, let me speak to him. This whole thing can be 
disposed very easily." 

Lucio cocked an amused eyebrow. "Don't kid yourself, honey, anything to do 
with kidnapping a broad gets the FBI, the CIA, the Army, and the Boy Scouts 
down on us. I got other things to do than play pretty games about picking up 
a ransom." Once more he was derisive. "So I get a million for you! What the 
hell's a million? Who needs one these days! Money starts higher than that." 

The ropes were hurting. Unhappily I tried to shift and twist and ended by 
asking meekly, "Please could I be untied? You don't have to worry about me 
giving you trouble, I'll still be handcuffed and legironed." 

"Untie her, Luke, ain't no sense having her hands and feet fall off. You 
done a real good ropin' job." 

I said a meek but sincere thank you, then added, "Please let me phone Mr. 
Robins. I know everything will be all right." 

"Yeh, I bet it would be," Lucio agreed with caustic disbelief, "sounds like 
a trap to me. The way them Feds have been bothering everyone lately you 
could easy be one of them." He laughed sardonically. "How would that grab 
you boys? Supposing you've brought home a federal agent to have a good look 
at us all. Shit, I'm not sure we shouldn't dump her in the garbage right 
now." 

I had never felt more redundant. Even to a racketeer I had no value, I was 
not negotiable. By this time Luke had gotten me untied and I was moving my 
numb fingers to get the circulation going again, and feeling foolish over 
being naked before these hoodlums not that the premises or Lucio fell into 
the hoodlum class, but I doubted if any male present had ever heard of 
Oxford or Harvard or gotten beyond the sixth grade. I was certain I couldn't 
win this one. I was beginning to expect I was in for a gang bang and then be 
tossed into a brothel or the Bay. I sat there being leered at while I toyed 
nervously with my handcuffed wrists. This kind of nakedness before these 
eyes was different to any other kind of nakedness I had ever known. This was 
foul, this was ugly. But it was frightening principally because of it's 
evident lack of interest for these men. That meant they saw me as a 
write-off or else were so used to the kidnapping and ravishment of maidens 
that I was no big deal. I thought of Quinlan and longed to cry. 

"I ain't making up my mind in no hurry," Lucio decided. "Fix this broad up 
someway safe while I think things out." He waved me out of existence with a 
careless hand. 

I was no longer tied to the chair, but I suppose it was a handy way to 
transport a hobbled maiden. Vince and Luke picked the both me and my chair 
up and carried us from the room as though I was the victim of an accident 
and they were a couple of paramedics. Lucio had picked up the phone before I 
was out of sight. 

"How'bout the big storeroom? We can hogtie her real good." 

"Shit, we can't leave her hogtied all the time. I been thinkin' about them 
walk-in clothes closets but she'd go hairy in the dark," Vince snorted 
disgustedly. "Way I see it, we got something here worth a lot of money. 
Ain't no sense ruinin' it right at the start. She's a good looking bit of 
stuff." 

I was glad I met with approval. It is not every girl who had two gorillas 
worrying over her. They had again set the chair upright while debating Me, 
and I sat there dejectedly, too scared to run, and knowing it would be 
hopeless anyway. It was heartbreaking to think of Quinlan's lovely chains 
being used to hold me in this frightening captivity. Once more I pleaded, 
"Please let me call Mr. Robins, everything can be fixed so easily." 

They appeared not to hear. But Luke was suddenly filled with inspiration. 
"Damn it, Vince, got me the very thing! It ain't a good idea to keep the 
silly bitch kickin' round this apartment. Robins might be doing a bit of 
figuring and have the Feds nosing around. What's you say we take her out to 
that little place of mine in the sticks? That woman of mine, Gertie, can 
look after her better than we can and she'll keep her good and safe. 
Gertie's a good girl. Ain't none of us don't have faith in Gertie." 

Everyone was pleased, including me. If I was to be kept prisoner, I would 
damn sight rather have a woman as jailer than these two thugs. I suppose 
Vince and Luke weren't really thugs but they looked like some to me. I kept 
a cautious silence. 

In their own territory Vincent and Luke had no trouble finding a handcuff 
key. I learned later that Lucio kept a pair of handcuffs around for reasons 
of his own. I was quickly freed of metal, tripped so I fell forward on my 
face, eased down my male arms and then Luke bound my wrists while Vince tied 
my ankles. The way they went about it, they must have done this before. When 
I was dismally prepared for my hands to be joined to my feet behind me, 
Vince suddenly came out with, "Tie her elbows. Get'em good'n' tight. Get'em 
tied together so it hurts, ain't no better way to make a broad behave." 

Vince was right. I moaned silently as my elbows were looped with rope and 
drawn tight. About all I can say on Luke's behalf is that he used quite a 
few strands to spread the stress. But by the time he was through with me my 
elbows were tressed so firmly behind my back that, had it not been for the 
pain, I would have believed I had no arms. They completed the hogtie with 
rough, swift competence. This time my gag was a wet wad of cloth to fill my 
mouth and extend my cheeks plus a wide band of adhesive tape. The boys must 
have used adhesive tape on a girl before because they were insistent on my 
clenching my lips before adjusting it into place and molding it firmly over 
my mouth and cheeks. It was a truly terrible silence. Seeing myself as a 
girl totally sealed, I snorted to make sure I could. But the resultant sound 
was small. My companions took it as some kind of greeting and nodded 
approvingly down at my appealing eyes. 

"She's a good kid, Vince. We can throw a good screw into her when she's back 
at my place. Gertie won't mind." 

Our vehicle turned out to be one of those anonymous sort of vans people 
favor so much these days. I was treated as freight and dumped in the back 
while Lucio's cohorts settled themselves comfortably in front. The motor 
started and I knew myself on my way to the cruelest period of my life. 

Being hogtied is awful anyway you look at it for a girl. If she rolls around 
she hurts her breasts and chaffs her wrists. But to be hogtied and to have 
your elbows bound the way mine were behind my back is pure hell. I wondered 
if the boys had any idea how awful it was for me. Quite probably they 
didn't, but then they wouldn't care! I can easily understand why a man feels 
safe once he's got a girl's elbows tied, she's had the biscuit for sure! 

I waited on the floor of that damned van, wetting the hard wood floor with 
my tears, realizing the fact that they had all happened in the space of two 
or three hours. I wondered what Quinlan would do! 

Gertie was one of those good natured, plumpish types with a jocund eye. 
Somewhere between thirty and forty. She stood gazing down at me when the 
boys opened the van door, "Well, look what we've got here!" 

I suspected she was one of those people who's voice would always sound 
cheerful and pleasantly surprised. "A little birdie already trussed for the 
oven. Now, with some sage and onion dressing...!" She laughed hilariously at 
her own humor. They boys kept silent. "Well, lug the little beauty in and 
I'll make sure she doesn't get away. Damn it, Luke, we can call this place 
the chicken coop." 

I was dumped just as I was on the kitchen floor while Gertie made coffee and 
provided a plate of Danish for the boys. I did not rate either. I remained 
hogtied on the kitchen floor to watch their coffee klatch, and wondered if 
Vince and Luke would actually rape me when they were done. It just didn't 
seem possible. 

Gertie must have read my thought, she spared me a sideways grin as she said, 
"Don't worry, honey, about that. The boys ain't screwing you in my house. I 
put the kibosh on that first thing." 

She chuckled and added, "Not unless you'd like them to, that is?" 

Her question might have be made in sarcasm but I took no chances. 

I shook my head. My negative drew a chuckled from all three. Fifteen minutes 
later I was alone with a woman. I thought of Helen and her precious 
daughter. This would be different. 

Gertie dealt with me leisurely. She obviously enjoyed my cruelly bound 
nakedness. Before pouring herself another cup of coffee she tore the gag 
from me and extracted the wet gag from my mouth, saying as she did, "Look, 
honey, I don't want no complaints, I don't want no bribes, I don't want to 
hear 'bout how bad you've been treated or how much dough you're sure someone 
will pay for you. There's just you and me here, you understand? Let's try 
and get along. All I want from you is to do what I say." 

It sounded like a second Declaration of Independence. I said, "All right, 
I'll try and do what you want. But don't get mad at me if I slip." As an 
urgent afterthought I added, "Would you please untie my elbow?" 

"Not right now, honey. Them ropes around your arms do you good, they make 
you stick out way in front. And if there's one thing I like, it's a girl's 
tits. You've got a pair of beauties!" 

"Do you know about Mr. Robins.. . ? " 

"No more than I need, and I don't want to hear no more. Remember what I told 
you." 

I had lost the first two rounds real quick. I tried again, "Do you have to 
keep me prisoner by keeping me tied all the time or do you have someplace to 
put me?" 

"Nosy little trick, aren't you? I ought to slap your face but I won't. And I 
shouldn't answer your questions but I will just in case you start going 
hysterical on me. No, you ain't gonna be hogtied twenty-four hours a day. I 
got a few real neat places for a gal like you. Don't you worry, honey, you 
and me's gonna get along real good." 

I was not sure of Gertie. But the ropes binding my elbows in what had become 
real agony influenced my judgment. It was a real killer-diller knowing I 
must await her convenience in getting untied and that I dare not ask. I felt 
sure she hadn't the faintest idea how I felt and my suffering. But on this 
question she instantly informed, "Don't you think I don't know what's it 
like to have a girl's elbows tied together behind her back? It's a regular 
bitch of a deal and I've been tied that way more than once." She sipped 
coffee and winked in my direction. "I've a rough life, kid, and I've had to 
be tied down more than once. Ain't no one knows more 'bout being bound in 
the bare than me. I know you're in pain. I'm enjoying you. Don't worry, I'll 
get them ropes off you before your arms go bad. I'm trying to figure out 
where I'll get the most kick out of keeping you safe." 

Gertie had not pinched my nipples, she had not mentioned a whip or a cane. I 
lay there, hogtied on her kitchen floor, and tried to feel some gratitude 
for small mercies. "I'd like us to be friends," I assured earnestly. "And, 
believe me, I'll be obedient, I'll be real obedient." 

"You sure will, honey, you sure will!" 

And that was that! 

Candice's Dilemma 

Luke's "little place in the sticks" appeared to be well out on the city's 
fringe among those widely spaced little wooden shanties in which people just 
manage to get by, an area of the destitute and dispossessed. I could see 
nothing of it through the heavy mesh and steel struts of my cage, but Gertie 
had put me wise. It appeared that a former owner of the "little place in the 
sticks" had been one of those optimists who tried to eke an existence out of 
an improbably enterprise, in this case kennels, of which I was now the sole 
inhabitant. It no longer even smelt of dogs. This sturdy cage was an 
addition to the back of the dwelling in the enclosed yard, now a lush jungle 
of bushes and weeds with a couple of trees tossed in for good measure. This 
was my view. I found comfort in assuring myself it was better than a dark 
basement or a stuffy storeroom. I had spent my first day in the cage, 
exploring the wire, the metal, and the concrete for weaknesses. This 
exploration assured me that I could be kept in this cage for life, I would 
never get free. 

The most degrading feature of my imprisonment was a shaped aperture in the 
back wall into which I could crawl with difficulty and find a bit of straw 
on which to sleep. It was barely big enough for me to stretch out. Gertie 
assured me it would also provide shelter in the event of storm. For some 
reason the whole damned thing tickled her immensely. But in imprisoning me 
thus she had taken no chances. On the day of my delivery she had untied me 
piece by piece, handcuffing my wrists behind my back in snug security. She 
had done the same for my ankles. Once more Quinlan's lovely gifts to me had 
been put to a use of which we had never dreamed. 

I had stood in Gertie's kitchen, testing this new captivity and 
rediscovering how vulnerable I was with my hands cuffed behind my back. My 
feet didn't matter so much, not unless I figured on running and that was an 
improbable dream. Clutching a handful of my hair, Gertie had propelled me 
out the back door and around the corner to the awaiting cage. From somewhere 
she had gotten three padlocks and, when I was safe inside, invited me to 
watch her click them shut upon the door, pointing out that one would have 
done the job just as well. It was not until that moment that I realized that 
I have been locked inside a cage while entirely helpless and without the use 
of my hands. When I pointed this out, Gertie laughed delightedly and 
demanded, "What the hell you want hands for, honey, you're a puppy dog now. 
I'll shove your food through that little slit beneath the wire and you can 
eat it any way you want. You can lay flat on your tummy or maybe do it on 
all fours, even though you've only got two. It's gonna be a real fun thing 
watching you eat. As for the rest, you don't need no hands. I'll hose you 
down once in a while and maybe led you around the yard for a walk. I'll put 
a noose on your neck so you won't give me no trouble. How's that for looking 
after a naked girl?" 

I had nothing to say. Gertie had said everything. When she had gone I tested 
my hobbled feet to discover I could take six short steps in one direction 
and five in another. This was my home. The heavy mesh was just above my 
head, I was much taller than a dog! If it rained, I would crawl inside the 
arched opening into gloom and waiting straw. For something to do and to 
discover the limits of my confinement I did it immediately. It would have 
been easy with hands, but with mine locked behind my back, I was like a seal 
inserting itself into a small hole. I did manage it finally but felt an 
absolute fool and hoped Gertie had not returned to watch. When I stuck my 
head back out of the hole the effect was as of a gopher surveying an 
unfriendly world. 

That had been yesterday. In the time since then I had confirmed Gertie's 
opinion of the absolute inescapability of this prison. It was made to order 
for a naked girl who must never, never escape. Around dinner time she had 
thrust a couple dishes beneath my wire and I eat supper. She watched while I 
went through the humiliating performance of eating while crotched in my 
knees and with no hands. I managed in a disgraceful sort of way. It appears 
a girl can do anything if she tried. I sucked up water from the second dish. 
Gertie was delighted. I crawled into the confinement of the straw and weep 
myself to sleep. 

My imprisonment was a bore. My helplessness total. I simply enjoyed the view 
or crept into the semi-darkness to sleep. It seems boredom is conducive to 
slumber, I slept a lot. The only bright spot in my day was Gertie and I 
suspect I was the bright spot in hers. It must have been lonely living out 
here in semi-isolation. Anyway she visited me often and talked of most 
anything except what I wanted to hear. She refused to tell me if my release 
was being negotiated or if I was to be what she called "sold down the river" 
to a brothel. Everything is comparative and I found myself thankful I would 
not be killed and disposed of as dangerous evidence. She assured me that 
Lucio was a "real ass-hole" and left it at that. When I pleaded for my hands 
she laughed and told me she liked me as I was. "Makes your tits stick out, 
honey, and like I told you, I'm a real tit girl. So is Luke. Lucky he ain't 
here, but if he figures on screwing you, he'll have to take you off my 
place, he ain't doing it here." 

In the interests of hygiene I was to be hosed down every other day. I had 
nothing to say about this, but when I learned how it was to be done, it 
seemed more like a punishment than a way of keeping me clean. Gertie 
unlocked the three massive padlocks, put a noose around my neck, and led me 
to one of the three trees. There I was tethered to await her attentions. 
While she went for the hose I stood dejectedly, realizing I was out of the 
cage but as helpless as ever. Gertie had handled me with the greatest of 
ease, there had never been a moment when I had a chance to fight or run or 
anything else. I longed for a hot bath or a good shower or anything 
civilized. When I saw her dragging the hose, I positively quailed. 

I don't know how Gertie managed it but the water was luke warm. She 
explained that to have it stone cold wouldn't wash me as well and, anyway, 
she wasn't mad at me. When I received the first wicked jet, I supposed I 
should feel grateful and after a while I did. I guess a girl can get used to 
anything. I was twisting and turning and suggesting it would be nice to get 
the water here, and here, and here.. . I even did an act of cocking up my 
leg and then bending over to make sure the water did me the most possible 
good. When I was taken around the other side of the tree where the dirt was 
still dry and roughly toweled down and my hair given a quick drying, I was 
assured, "It's a real test of a girl, honey, when you can hose her down and 
she still looks as screwable as before. I ain't sure you don't look better. 
I got you nice and pink all over. I'll bet that guy you keep telling me 
about is crazy over loosing you." 

I couldn't have agreed more. I could almost feel Quinlan's vibrations of 
frustration. He had evidently not been inactive. "He got the Feds in on 
Lucio, sweetheart. Happened a few hours after the boys brought you down 
here. Damned good Luke thought of here. Ain't no way your boyfriend is gonna 
to learn about this little dump." She cackled with real enjoyment. "Hell, 
they could search my little house and not even find you unless they knew 
about the dog kennel. Even then a quick look around the place wouldn't show 
nothing." 

It was more of the same hopeless helplessness. More or less dry, I was led 
back to my cage and turned loose within. That is, the noose was taken from 
my neck but my hands and feet remained constrained in steel. The door 
clanked, the locks clicked. I looked through the wire at Gertie dolefully 
and asked, "How long is this going to last? How long is it going to take 
Lucio to make up his mind what to do with me?" 

"Don't know, sweetheart. And, if I were you, I wouldn't worry my pretty 
little head about it. Isn't my dog cage better than some lousy little cat 
house where the madam whips the ass off you when you fail to please the 
customer?" 

"But I get so bored, Gertie, I can't even play with myself the way you've 
got me fixed." 

"Tell you what, sweetheart, how 'bout tomorrow morning I take you out of 
that cage and tie you to a tree for the day? Don't seem like a good deal to 
me, but if you want a change...." 

I supposed it showed the measure of my desperation that I utter an eager, 
"Yes, Please." I deliberately refused to think of what I might be letting 
myself in for, I was so damned glad to be ending my pacing of the tiny wire 
mesh cage like an animal in the zoo. In fact, that's the way I say myself an 
animal caged. Maybe a day standing out in the sunlight.. . ? 

It was as easily done as everything else done relative to me. The unlocking 
of the padlocks and the placing of the noose on my neck to control me. 
Gertie also armed herself with a newly cut willow switch which she assured 
me was only in case I chose not to behave and "got damned fool notions." 
Demurely I allowed myself to be led from my prison out into the open to 
where the tree awaited for me as if it had been planted there only for my 
benefit. Gertie tugged at my neck to demand, "You're gonna back up against 
that there tree while I change your hands from where they is to back 'round 
the trunk. You aim to do anything stupid?" 

I would certainly have done something stupid if I could but the noose on my 
neck, the willow switch, and my still hobbled feet all deterred. Gertie 
could cut me to pieces with that switch while all I could do was engage in a 
futile struggle with a chocking noose around my neck. Hating every word, I 
said with an appearance of good will, "No, Gertie, honest, you only have to 
unlock one cuff and I promise I'll back against the tree and you can lock 
them again. I promise I'll be obedient." 

That was exactly how it happened. There is something intensely frustration 
about performing an act over which you know you have no choice. I guess it 
is the "so near yet so far" syndrome. It was no more than a minute before I 
stood with my back against the trunk and my hands once more handcuffed 
behind my back and also behind the tree. I was well and truly foxed. When 
Gertie produced rope I eyed it with disfavor. "But you don't need to tie me 
as well! I'm quite helpless. If you use that rope on me, I'll be hurting 
before night comes. Please.. . ? " 

"That's the idea, honey. You said you was bored so I'm making sure you ain't 
bored, not for today anyway. A girl what's hurting won't ever be properly 
bored, now can she?" 

I did not so much submit as endure. Any protest I made had to be verbal and 
might earn me the switch. With Gertie I was to learn often enough that it 
was wise to make a virtue of necessity. I stood against the tree and said 
not a single word while I was bound tight to its trunk. Gertie, for reasons 
of her own, was obviously enjoying the exercise. She took a lot of time and 
care in the placement of the cords and I soon realized she knew where and 
how to make the cords hurt a maiden the most. She even did that horrible 
cinch thing to the ropes around my tummy and brought the harsh stands down 
to bisect and enter my pouting pussy then back behind the tree to clamp my 
loins in a manner to deny motion. 

"I tied up a few gals in my time, honey" she said as she knotted the rope. 
"And me and the other kids used to do a lot of it in school. This rope 
cutting your twat is real mean, a girl figures on getting something out of 
it but she don't hardly manage anything but a rope burn." 

Gertie assured me I made a pretty picture. Probably I did. I was the 
conventional damsel in distress and needed a hero to come along and cut me 
free. He would also need a handcuff key rescuing distressed damsels is not 
as easy as it used to be. I contented my humility by observation, "You've 
made a wonderful job of tying me, Gertie, I'll never get loose." 

"That's right, honey, you sure won't." Gertie surveyed her work with immense 
approval. For the first time since I had come into her possession she became 
carnal. First she kissed me long. It was a warm and hardy kiss, just the 
kind you'd expect from Gertie's ripe womanhood. Then her fingers found my 
nipples and I gasped in a need more desperate than I've known. From there 
her lips took over one nipple while the free hand traced it's pathway down 
over the ropes to cup my corded cunt within a firm and female hand. This 
time I moaned out loud. 

I suppose the events of my strange captivity and enforced living in more or 
less open air, to say nothing of the hosing down, had held latent my hot 
desires of the flesh. I reserved such ecstasies for Quinlan and if I thought 
of Gertie lustfully it was only to suppose she was concerned with doubly 
securing my imprisonment. But now my deprived flesh was finding an almost 
intolerable ecstasy in what she was doing. She was immensely skilled and 
would occasionally look at me above one breast while she continued her 
excitations. It was not long before I was making the most outrageous noises 
and surging against the binding ropes in a way to indent them even further 
into my skin. My body demanded more, more, more.. . ! My climax suddenly 
flowered and blossomed into an incandescence probably aided by the cord 
within my scolded pussy lips. But it was not until my last throes and spasms 
that Gertie stepped back to view my sweating nakedness with amused but 
hungry eyes which feed most greedily on every part of I had once possessed 
but which now belonged to her. 

"Damn it, honey, you must have needed that! I ain't never seen a girl pop so 
quick or make a fuss over it. Hell, if I didn't have you tied so good, I'll 
make you attend to me. I'll bet you'd do that real good. Golly, the way you 
heaved, I thought you'd bust a rope!" 

I watched Gertie's return to the house not knowing whether to be grateful 
for what I had received or to be resentful for the way I felt. Sure, she 
hadn't left me on the brink, in fact she'd been with me right to the very 
end. But I must have really lunged against the ropes, some of which were now 
hurting, especially that one down below that I don't needed to describe 
right now. That bastard of a stricture would be with and within me for as 
long as I was bound to the tree, that meant all day. I signed and consoled 
myself that my gain out-weighted my loss. I relapsed within my bonds. 
There's one good thing about being tied the way Gertie tied me, you can't 
struggle and you can't fall down. You could probably go to sleep if you 
wanted to bad enough. I simply gazed back at my reversed view to where my 
cage with its open door awaited me come night. 

It was not long before I decided I had made a mistake. I kept looking 
longingly back at my cage, remembering the relative freedom I enjoyed 
therein. I scolded myself for failing to know when I was well off. But it 
was the hands behind back helplessness that smoldered my discontent. If I 
ever got back in that cage I would keep my mouth closed. Maybe Gertie was 
teaching me a lesson. From time to time I struggled. I only did it in the 
belief I'd feel guilty if I didn't. In the heat of the afternoon I must have 
dozed and in that semi-asleep state became aware of watching eyes. I came 
awake in a state of pure fright to stare in disbelief at wide, innocent 
female eyes. 

It was little Audry. 

I stared at her sparkling innocent eyes while she turned and cheerfully 
called out, "She's here, Mommy! I've found her!" 

"I don't believe this," I said in fervent thankfulness. "How the devil did 
you find me, Audry?" 

Audry came close and began to tease my nipples. It was an attention I didn't 
need right then but it was nice. It didn't stop her talking, "Pure luck, 
darling. Mommy and I were coming to visit when we saw the men take you away. 
The police took ever so long to get to some guy named Lucio something but 
you weren't there. When Mommy realized the police weren't getting any place, 
she decided to do something on her own. It took us a long time to find this 
place. Oh, Candice, I'm so glad we've got you back." 

"You'd better stop what you're doing, Audry, you know how it always ends." 

"Don't be silly, darling, you know you love every minute of it. And besides, 
you can't do anything about it. That woman really tied you good, didn't 
she?" 

The fingertips became more demanding of my flesh. "I can't wait to ask you, 
Candice dear, but did those men who grabbed you stick their great big things 
in your pussy?" 

"No, they didn't." I had now started to moan, oblivious to everything except 
the wicked little fingers so busy on my breasts. When Helen joined her 
daughter I treated theip both to an explosive orgasm of which I felt 
thoroughly ashamed. In the midst of it I was making the same sounds I would 
have made if they were whipping me. The only motions I could make were with 
my head and I was tossing it from side to side as if to make up for the 
inability of the rest of my body to move. 

Helen's voice was approving, "My, my, Candice, Audry really is good for you, 
isn't she? Are you pleased to see us." 

"Oh, jeepers yes! Where's Quinlan?" 

"Hounding the police and giving Lucio whats-his-name a bad time. You've 
beautifully disappeared, darling. Audry and I can keep you forever, no one 
will ever know." 

I stood there against the damned tree trunk, my breasts still wet from 
Audry's lips, my heart pounding over news which wasn't all that good. I 
asked, "What have you done with Gertie?" 

"I brought a pair of handcuffs along, darling. I've got her nicely attached 
to some plumbing. Audry and I could never have handled her if I hadn't 
brought a gun along. She couldn't be sure I wouldn't fire it. Really, 
darling, I think Audry and I have hit the Mother Lode." 

"Helen, I so glad to see you both. Would you please untie me?" 

"That's a question you're going to have to learn to keep from asking. I seem 
to have heard it a lot from you," Helen admonished severely. "You're the 
most tie-up-able girl I've ever seen and you'll have to expect a certain 
amount of it in your life. Right now I'm enjoying watching you, so stop 
asking to be untied. I'll untie you when I'm damned good and ready." 

"My wrists are handcuffed behind the trunk, in case you don't know." 

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I have a key. Anyone who comes within a mile of 
you, Candice, has to have a key ready. Do you realize I've hardly ever seen 
you without you being handcuffed?" 

"Well, that's not my fault. I really do wish you'd untie me. I hurt." 

"Well, I'm sure you do. I expect it's mainly that lovely strand so prettily 
tugged up into your crotch. Darling, wouldn't that make a simple marvelous 
title for a book,'The Girl With The Corded Cunt?'" 

"That's not a bit funny." 

"I think it's funny. So does Audry. It's what we think that counts, you know 
dear." 

I cursed my luck that Quinlan hadn't found me first. These two were all 
right in their own way, and I preferred being rescued by Helen and Audry 
over remaining bound to this tree or being locked in that dog cage. But I 
was uncertain of them and it was all too evident they were not going to give 
me true freedom. My was the case of being out of very hot frying pan into a 
cool fire. 

Wearily I said, "Helen, please, I've really so glad you rescued me. But I'm 
entitled to a life, I don't want to spend mine tied up and chained up by you 
and Audry. Even though I like you both it's not what any girl would want. 
Please give me back to Quinlan." 

"You recognized something important there, dear," Helen said, making herself 
rather feline. "You asked me to 'give' you back to Quinlan. That implies 
ownership, a right and ability to dispose of you as I see fit. Honey, you're 
a natural-born prisoner, you're nicely designed for ropes and cords and 
handcuffs and things. Against that tree you look a hell of a lot more 
natural than you do walking down a city street." 

"I don't! I bet I look awful. Helen, stop being mean to me and teasing me 
like this. I want to be untied so damn bad...." I looked at mother and 
daughter in urgent appeal, they gazed back at me with glowing approval. If 
they wanted a captive girl they certainly had one. I wondered what Gertie 
was thinking of this whole thing, back in the house, handcuffed to a "bit of 
the plumbing." 

It dawned on me that I might as well shut up and be a obedient little girl, 
I wasn't really going to be freed at all. Absurdly I was ready for Quinlan 
to come galloping over the hill. I was tired of the Helens, the Gerties, and 
the Audrys, I wanted a man! Glumly I acknowledged, "Forgive me if I seem 
disappointed. I thought I was being rescued but now I see that just isn't 
the case." 

"Well, you are an ungrateful wretch!" Helen said without rancor. "If that's 
the way you feel about us maybe you'd like I should let Gertie loose and 
Audry and I will leave you to her tender mercies?" 

"You know that's not what I want! If I have to be a prisoner, I'd sooner be 
your prisoner. The point I'm trying to make I that I don't see why I have to 
be a prisoner at all. I'm damned sure I don't look any prettier naked and 
tied than Audry would. Or maybe you yourself, Helen. If you want a tied up 
girl, why don't you practice on each other? And let me go back to Quinlan." 

"I'm the one who gives the orders, dear." 

"Very well, I now belong to you. How about you and Audry amusing yourselves 
with me overnight and tomorrow whipping me then sending me back to Quinlan? 
Isn't the pain I'm asking for enough to square our account?" 

"Silly girl, what you're offering is not yours to give, I already have it. 
Your skin belongs to me," Helen tenderly informed. "Darling, you really must 
get used to the idea of not having a say in anything. A beautiful slave 
who's going to do what she's told or I'll know the reason why." 

It is hard for a naked girl, bound stoutly to a tree, to shrug. But I tried. 
I didn't move much against Gertie's bonds but at the same time I made up my 
mind to just keep quiet and take whatever came, I really didn't have any 
choice in the matter. But it was so damned hard to relinquish my life and 
Quinlan and whatever else I was or would ever be to this charming woman and 
her mischievous daughter. They were a hell of a lot better than Lucio's 
brothel. But the imprisonment they offered might be every bit as complete 
and inescapable. I fell silent, absorbing my pain. 

"You really do look too sweet for words, darling. Audry and I are enjoying 
you immensely. Don't look so dismal, you're giving us a lot of pleasure, 
isn't that enough?" 

I refused to be drawn. By such facial contortions as I could make, I managed 
to convey a sort of resigned disgust. The two of them truly did enjoy me 
immensely, they were still walking around and around and taking an 
occasional prod at some part of me and then testing the firmness of the 
strictures binding me to the tree. I was some sort of sacrificial offering 
which they accepted gleefully, no doubt planning ways to make me squeal. 
After quite a long while this diversion paled and they started to work on my 
knots. 

Even though they were two to one they took no chances. First they untied the 
bindings above and below my breasts, the loosed the cinched waist but did 
not free me there. Their aim was to then unlock the handcuffs, bring my 
hands around to where they could relock them again behind my back. This 
meant they had me helpless as always. They then finished the job and offered 
an arm as I stumbled from the tree, commenting pleasurably on the pink, red 
and scarlet indentations of the rope within my skin. If a girl stays bound 
long enough these marks are very much like whip marks. They led me towards 
the house, chattering gaily but with me uncertain whether to be sorry or 
sad. I need not have bothered. 

When my hobbled steps reached where they had left Gertie in confinement, 
Gertie was gone. 

Gertie was either damned clever or damned lucky. Her noose slipped easily 
around Helen's neck and was drawn wickedly tight to make my would-be rescuer 
stand upon her toes clutching wildly at something she could not cope with. 
Audry yelped and started to run but it was too late. Another noose captured 
her and Gertie had no trouble raising both mother and daughter in positions 
threatening to strangle them if they did not stand still. I was already 
helpless and could do nothing to aid them. I couldn't ever run, my hobbled 
feet made sure of that. I simply stood back to survey Gertie's triumph and 
Gertie herself. 

"I had a handcuff key, you must have been damned dumb not to know that," 
Gertie taunted her captives. "Hell, I was loose in no time! I've been 
waiting here for you to come back, I knew you would." 

"How much money do you want?" Helen demanded in a strangled gasp. "Name your 
price." 

"Wish I could," Gertie mourned. "You and me would easy come to terms, we'd 
understand each other. But my life wouldn't be worth a plug nickel if I let 
you go. You walked into this, remember? Can't blame anyone but yourself. You 
and your little flossy here. Probably does what you tell her to, a chip off 
the old block. Thing is, what the hell am I going to do with you now that 
I've got you?" Gertie pondered for a few moments before inspiration 
prompted, "Guess the first thing is to get rid of them clothes. You two 
undress yourselves. You can, don't give me no lip." 

"What do you want us naked for?" 

I could see Helen was having a hard time against the strangling rope her 
fingers could do nothing about. "Look," she managed to say, "leave Audry out 
of this. If you want to be mean, be mean to me." 

"like I said. Both of you. Strip!" Gertie's demand was firm. 

It was something to watch, I almost felt privileged. What Gertie demanded of 
her captives was certainly practical. They could not removed the strangling 
noose but they could certainly remove their clothing, their hands and arms 
were free. I watched Helen's sour disgust at what she was forced to do, 
along with her daughter's excited interest in anything erotic. Both easily 
stripped themselves to the waist but when it came to their panties and 
nylons, the task became more difficult. They coped by using one hand to 
avoid strangulation or a broken neck, and the other to thrust down unwanted 
garments. When they kicked off their shoes they were in grave danger from 
the lost elevation of their heels. Not wishing to do her victims serious 
injury, Gertie quickly retrieved the handcuffs used on her wrists and 
fastened them upon the unresisting hands behind Helen's back. All she could 
find was a piece of rope for Audry but that was enough. But that was enough. 
She bound the crossed young wrists with a savage intent that made the 
youngster squeal in protest, a protest entirely ignored. Next she tied both 
pairs of ankles before removing the ropes above by which she had gained so 
easy a victory. The woman and the girl who had possessed me so briefly stood 
there in all their glorious nudity, sharing glances of shock and dismay. My 
heart went out to them. I knew what it was like. 

Gertie still had a problem. She had two naked bodies, but what was she to do 
with them! All either could do was hop and inevitably fall. She solved her 
problem with another piece of rope. That one went from Helen's chafed neck 
to the neck of her daughter. Gertie compelled them to hop close enough 
together to give them only a three foot link between their necks. Her method 
of compulsion was a firm thumb and finger on a nipple. Again, from previous 
experience, I knew how such a grip could easily change a girl's mind. She 
then untied their feet. Armed with the willow switch, she marshaled all 
three of us into a group and more or less drove all of us into the back 
yard. I guessed what was coming. The kennel cage door was still open and, 
one by one, we were forced to enter. And then the door clanged shut and the 
padlocks clicked closed. For me it was much like coming home. 

"You can catch up on your gossip," Gertie said agreeably. "Have a nice day." 

"The rotten bitch, she damned near killed me," said Helen vehemently. She 
stood there, twisting uselessly against her handcuffed wrists. "If I ever 
get my hands on her...!" 

"But, Mommy, this is so exciting!" Audry was aglow with a new emotion. No 
doubt she was seeing herself as the captive maiden of classic fiction. 

Bitterly I added my comment to the group, "You asked for this, you know. It 
serves you both right." 

We were a pretty cage full. Drawn by curiosity, and probably some carnal 
urge, Gertie came to view us often. She would stand and toss verbal jibes 
through the mesh and watch their impact. Helen was bursting with 
semi-restrained fury while her daughter was still viewing the whole thing as 
an erotic adventure, certain to turn out well. 

During one of our periods without surveillance, Helen turned her anger to 
me. "The least you can do, Candice, is untie this beastly rope from our 
necks. Look, we'll both kneel down and you can do it easily." 

They knelt, hopefully, gazing up at me with expectant eyes. It was in my 
mind to refuse the service, I was by no means sure Gertie wouldn't use that 
switch on me if I did, but damsels in distress should stick together so I 
backed up to Helen's neck and went to work. It wasn't half as easy as she 
said it would be but after ten minutes of fumbling the rope fell free and I 
turned my chained attentions to the mischievous teenager who's bottom I 
would most happily spank. When both of them had necks free of bonds, they 
rose to their feet and I got warmly kissed in gratitude. As one kissed my 
lips, the other sought the lips lower down, and I was forced to wiggle from 
their grasp. I had had enough of unwanted climaxes and their damp and untidy 
aftermath. 

"Now you can untie my hands, Candice dear," Audry piped up brightly. Audry 
was placing her bound hands conveniently for me but I was scared, 
remembering Gertie's willow switch. She might go for the removal of the neck 
tethers but take a dim view of the removal of binding on the wrists. "Sorry 
but I'm scared. You mother can do it just as well as I can but I wouldn't 
advise her to. Sorry." 

Audry couldn't have cared less. For her this was a wonderful adventure. She 
wiggled happily her cross-bound wrists, more in their sensuous enjoyment 
than in any expectation of getting loose. 

"That's all right, Mommy. Perhaps it's best as Candice says for us all three 
to be in the same fix. I can't get you two loose because you're handcuffed. 
And I don't mind the way I am, it's fun." 

The cage held all three of us comfortably. I pointed out its meager benefits 
and the two of them did a bit of prowling up and down against the straw 
before Audry gleefully inserted herself within the sleeping area. She could 
slip in and out without trouble but I could guess that Helen might scrape a 
bit of skin. 

Helen was not taking kindly to captivity within a cage. "We got to get out 
of this place," she informed us decisively. "Candice, there just must be 
some way?" 

They listened with disdain to my assurances that escape was impossible. They 
had not been in the cage as long as I had. I knew how they felt but was 
secretly amused by their reactions. This was not the role they were 
accustomed to. I leaned against the wall and watched them fume and prowl. 
When Gertie showed up, she watched us with keen approval and mocked, "Three 
pretty little birdies in a cage! My you look sweet. I've a good mind to feed 
you bird seed instead of water." 

"Drop dead," snapped Helen. 

"Up your ass, Gertie," added Audry. 

"Anything come through about a ransom?" I asked politely. 

"Sure is, honey." Gertie looked squarely at Helen. "Seems like you're a rich 
bitch. Lucio knew all about you. Makes things damned good and easy." Gertie 
beamed around at the now expectant trio. "What I do is take you to town and 
we make a visit to the bank and then we come back her loaded with dough. 
Nobody's goin' to interfere, nobody dare say a boo because I'm goin' to 
leave your little quail in such a damned uncomfortably situation that you'll 
be damned glad to get back and set her free. Lucio says we may as well 
include Candice in the deal. You can get hold of that guy of hers on the 
phone and he can add to the loot. Lucio ain't being greedy, I think it's 
just a million or two. How's that grab you?" 

It was Audry who reacted first. "Oh, Mommy, that's wonderful. Don't worry 
about me, I'll be all right here with Candice. And then when you come back 
we can take Candice with us. Please, Mommy, don't ever let Candice go. I 
want her." 

There was a lot of distrust in the air. Helen wasn't a bit sure about the 
deal or a bit pleased at the prospect of parting with a million dollars. 
Can't say I blame her. For Helen and Audry their captivity was still too new 
to have sunk in. Audry's exuberance lent an atmosphere of farce to what was 
actually a grime and dangerous situation. The general air was that I was 
securely chained enough that no one had to brother about me. I couldn't get 
loose. And, anyway, I didn't have any money. It was finally decided the trip 
to the city and the bank would take place the next morning. We spent a 
dejected night within the sleeping straw with Helen bitterly resentful about 
her abrasions. It was not until the sun was well up in the morning that we 
got the full impact of the iron hand within the velvet glove. 

Gertie was almost apologetic about what she had to do and blamed it all on 
Lucio. Because all three of us were so hopelessly bound or chained, Gertie 
had no hesitation in entering the cage. She first of all looped Helen's neck 
with the previously discarded rope and tethered her to the wire while she 
rummaged through a box of chains and padlocks. After a few minutes it was 
evident the picture Helen was to carry of her daughter's plight would not be 
a happy one. It was very simple, a chain and padlock around the youngster's 
bound wrists, its other end padlocked to the wire above her head, not only 
to the wire but to one of the supporting steel struts that could bare all 
the teenager's weight. To achieve this, Gertie had raised the young arms 
high and then higher and secured them fast to leave Audry gazing at the 
ground and bent almost double. There was nothing new about it, but it was a 
brutal position to have to hold for any length of time. Helen was outraged. 

"You can't possibly do that to my daughter," Helen stormed angrily. "That's 
torture and we'll be gone hours. You could have left her as she was, she 
couldn't possibly have gotten free." 

"Lucio's instructions, dear." Gertie spoke gently but firmly. "I simply do 
what I'm told. Don't blame me. And, anyway, probably won't do your little 
girl any harm." 

"I'll be all right, Mommy." Audry's tone was brave but not as cheerful as 
before. 

We argued, but Gertie held all the cards. I was helpless and it was useless 
for Helen to fight with the only woman who could offer her release and 
Audry's release as well. I suppose it was a neatly devised situation. Audry 
and I watched her mother being led away at the end of a rope and sighed in 
unison when they disappeared. Three padlocks were firmly snapped on the 
door. We were on the wrong side of it, even without bonds we could not 
escape. 

"You're tied with rope, Audry," I said hopefully. "If I can get my teeth at 
it, maybe I can get you loose." 

It was a cruelly frustrating experience. Perhaps it had been designed 
intentionally to that end. My hands could reach the rope not at all. And 
when I tried to reach the binding with my teeth, I discovered they were 
inched beyond my reach. If Audry had been tethered with rope she might have 
been able to tug and pull enough to get her hands down within my reach but 
with chain.. . ! I stood looking up and the crossed and bound young hands 
and their circling chain and tried every trick I could devise to get my 
teeth to the ropes. But it was hopeless. There was no box I could stand on, 
nothing! If finally admitted defeat. 

"Don't worry, darling, I'll make out." 

I'll say this for Audry, she had courage. This was still an erotic adventure 
for her, the pain had not yet reached a point of distress. I knew it would. 
Poor Audry, in an hour she would know. I retreated to where we could get a 
good view of each other before saying, "I feel such a useless bitch, Audry, 
but there's nothing I can do. I'm just going to have to stand around this 
cage and look at you.. . . Well, shall we call it discomfort?" 

It was at least ai hour before Audry cried. 

7 

Wire and Chain and Change 

It was a bad, bad day. I was by no means sure about Gertie and Helen, it all 
seemed far too easy. But I did not tell Audry about that, the poor kid had 
enough problems of her own. She was a real good sport about my inability to 
help. I know that in her place I would have thought that surely there was 
something she could do to help. 

My thoughts were divided between the suffering girl before me and the two 
woman in the bank. If everything went as Gertie wanted and if Quinlan failed 
to locate me in time, I would simply be transferred from one slavery to 
another, no doubt imprisoned in these same handcuffs and leg irons. It 
seemed I was to always be an available package for anyone who wanted to take 
me. I held my hands for Audry to see and assure herself as to the tightness 
of the cuffs about my wrists. I didn't want the poor girl to think I was 
falling down on any rescue operation. She agreed tearfully I was as helpless 
as she. 

It was a good thing Audry was a limber girl, an adult woman would have found 
the posture far less bearable. 

I ended up sitting as I always did with my back and chained arms leaning 
against the wall, my knees hunched. It wasn't all that comfortable but it 
enabled me to doze in the heat of the day. Audry and I exchanged frustrated 
glances as from time to time she fought against the wicked chain. She could 
twist and kick and punish her shoulders all she wished in fits of anger 
which found vent in motion. It's a funny thing about a girl tied that way, 
if she's willing to hurt her shoulders enough, she can straighten up. Not 
fully and not for very long, only a few moments, but it relieves the strain 
of the bent over position. Audry did it with increasing regularity as time 
marched on. 

Long after we were left alone and long after the cruel bondage became very 
painful to the teenager, I heard her whisper, "Darling, please make me happy 
for a little while. I'd do it for you." 

I was not a lesbian then or now, but there was something so simple and 
direct in her plea I knew I had a duty. We were two damsels in distress, one 
more than the other, but in very similar predicaments. The kennel cage held 
us as effectively as it had held the dogs of long ago. I knelt between 
Audry's legs which she spread as-wide as she could, the action causing her 
body to lower and even more pain on her shoulders, wrists, and arms. She was 
bitterly sweet. 

It was when I had completed my task I had the bright idea of laying myself 
flat upon my tummy on the floor and inviting her to step up where ever she 
could upon my back or bottom. It showed my desperation that I was willing to 
experiment with such a demeaning posture. At first Audry refused. I was 
getting to like Audry more and more. Or perhaps I was just feeling more and 
more sorry for the poor kid. Anyway she did finally take a tentative step 
with one foot on my back and then another to stand between my chained arms 
near my shoulders. Her weight was not excessive, but enough to grind my 
breasts and nipples hard upon the floor. After five minutes of this she got 
off and I moved enough to enable her to tread my bottom. I could not get a 
good view of the effect but Audry assured me the relief was tremendous. It 
did not help her get loose but gave her a small recess. Naked female 
prisoners are grateful for anything. 

We were two naked girls bored with captivity, one of us was hurting. From 
time to time I experimented with fresh positions in an effort to give Audry 
another inch or two advantage and some more relief. I was doing a crotched 
down position and Audry was experiments with short hops to reach this new 
position when a sardonic male voice invaded upon our world. 

"Training for the Olympics? You look like a pair of chickens doing a 
breeding exercise." Quinlan's mockery was unmistakable. 

Audry resumed her punishment. I got up sheepishly but, once erect, flew to 
the wire in wild excitement. All I could say was, "Oh, Quinlan. 
Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h, are we glad to see you." 

"Could you use a bit of help?" 

"Oh, Quin, please don't joke. Audry's in agony and I'm so damned sick of 
being in this cage." 

"Figured I'd find you in some sort of jackpot so I brought these along." 
Quinlan held up a huge pair of some sort of cutting device with wicked 
looking jaws. "They call them bolt cutters. I'll have you out of there in no 
time." 

Audry and I watched breathlessly. At that moment we were both prepared to 
yield male superiority in all things, Quinlan was an omnipotent presence, a 
male answer to our maiden's pray. My heart leapt with joy as the jaws found 
the padlocks, one after the other, and bit them asunder. When the third lock 
fell away and Quin opened the cage door, he made me the happiest of girls by 
taking me in his arms and kissing me as hungrily as I kissed him. When we 
came up for air, I held out my hands for those hungry steel jaws. But 
Quinlan was Quinlan. "No way, sweetheart, I paid good money for those irons, 
they belong to me, remember? Don't worry, I've got the keys." 

"Please use them then. I'm so tired of being chained." 

"All in good time, sweetheart. Shouldn't we look after dear little Audry?" 
He patted the wide-eyed nymphet on the bottom and asked, "Or are you 
enjoying the way you are? You look so damned cute." 

"Oh, please Mr. Robins, I'll be ever so grateful if you'll get my arms down. 
I'll be so grateful I'll let you do that lovely thing to me. You know what I 
mean, that lovely thing you do to dear Candice." 

Quinlan looked at me and grinned. "Is the little darling offering me a piece 
of tail?" 

I had to laugh. Audry was irrepressible. She was offering as a reward the 
very thing she herself desired. "Cut her down, Quin," I pleaded. "She's been 
like that for so long. We can talk about the other thing when she's 
comfortable." 

The magic shears did their work. Audry's arms fell back to normal and from 
the ceiling a piece of chain dangled. The padlock was next to go and it left 
Audry with her crossed wrists simply bound with rope. She was done with the 
brutal chain and locks. Buoyantly she tripped to her rescuer and kissed him 
soundly on the cheek. I was pleased he did not take her in his arms as he 
had me. What Quinlan did have was two naked girls with their hands securely 
fastened. He remained very much the dominant male. When Audry backed up to 
him and suggestively wiggled her tied wrists, he ignored the invitation but 
slapped her soundly across one of the equally inviting cheeks of her smooth 
bottom. 

"Do you want to stay here, Audry, and wait for your mother or do you want to 
come with Candice and me! Decide either way, we don't have time to waste." 

"Do you know about Mommy and the ransom and all that?" 

"I know the whole bit, sweetheart. But I'm not taking time to explain the 
whole thing. I'm taking Candice and, if you want to be taken along, just say 
the word." 

It was like inviting a starving person to eat. Audry's eyes sparkled. She 
jumped at this wonderful opportunity. "Oh. Mr. Robins, of course I'll come 
with you. Will you keep me prisoner like you do Candice?" 

He took my arm, and when my hobbled steps could not keep pace, picked me up 
bodily and carried me to the car. Audry, dancing in delight, followed were 
we led and, without demur, allowed herself to be lifted into the trunk where 
she sat with the spare tire and the jack and hopefully inquired, "Shouldn't 
my feet be tied, Mr. Robins? And maybe I should be gagged.. . ? " 

Audry's request was denied but Quinlan took the precaution of examining her 
bound hands, finding them secure. He gently pushed down the lovely young 
head and slammed the trunk lid. "I don't know what we'll do with her," he 
admitted. "But she's safer with us that running around loose. Come along my 
proud and shackled beauty." 

There was a blanket in the car, it was draped over my shoulders. It no 
longer seemed to matter whether I was ironed or not, my instinct for freedom 
was appeased. Quinlan now had me and that was freedom enough for any girl! 

Smitten by conscious I suddenly inquired, "But what about Helen?" 

"The police are looking into the Helen affair. Sorry I took so long in 
discovering where you were and who had you. But I had some leads and some 
help and they paid off. I've got my captive maiden once more. Are you 
happy?" 

"I'd show you how happy I am, Quin, if you'd let me have my hands." 

"I like your hands the way they are. You know that." He spared me a sly, 
sideways grin. "You'll probably never have your hands again, or you feet 
either. But if you're tired of those chains, I'll tie you with rope when we 
get home. How's that for generosity." 

"Don't bother." 

A small, blissful silence held us both until he asked, "How'd you like to 
have young Audry for your personal slave? The kid never need be free again. 
I can fix it." 

"Good gosh no! I don't want any competition for your affections from that 
little bundle of mischief. She'd have you in bed with her within an hour of 
getting home." 

"No she wouldn't. Remember, I said your personal slave, not mine. You can 
lock the little so-and-so safely away before you and I make love. You can do 
anything you like with her. Think about it, Candice. It's not a bad offer." 

"No! The answer is a firm negative," I told him decisively. "like I said, 
the last thing I need around is teenage competition. Teenagers are deadly, 
they get their man every time." 

"Oh, all right, just thought I'd ask." He gave me another wicked sideways 
glance. "I'm working on something, something big. I can probably work Audry 
into the picture." 

There came another blissful silence that I had no desire to break. I was 
basking in a tremendous relief and was longing to make love to Quinlan with 
every fiber of my being. The details of his rescue of Audry and me did not 
seem to matter, I was not the lest bit curious. I knew there was something 
on his mind, something he would get around to telling me in his own way and 
his own time. In his failure to remove my irons he had given me a hint of 
things to come. 

I felt snug and cozy sitting there beside Quinlan, the man I always thought 
of in my mind as my Man. By now I knew him so well I could easily detect his 
preoccupation with something beyond me and the teenager in the trunk. His 
refusal to remove my irons had made them doubly heavy, not so much in the 
true sense of weight, but in the unspoken. For reasons of his own Quinlan 
wanted me in that degree of helplessness they imposed. From past experience 
I realized that often meant he wanted the advantage in an argument. A girl 
handcuffed and legironed is at a disadvantage in presenting a point of view 
contrary to the man who held the key. But I could care less. I clutched the 
blanket tight over my shoulders and wiggled as close to the man smell as the 
car allowed. All was well in my own beautiful world. I thought of Audry and 
her hands bound behind her back beneath the lid of the trunk, and how she 
would be very happy in discomfort. 

They were waiting for us in the underground garage. Quinlan had gotten out 
of the car to release Audry from her prison when the five shadowy shapes 
left the gloom of the poorly lit portions of the garage. Confronting four of 
them, Quinlan had put one down with a swift karate kick but was struck down 
by a fifth from behind, the pistol butt crashing against his skull. He 
crumpled to the concrete to lay there inert. I was plucked from the front 
seat, a bag tied over my face, my irons unlocked so they fell with a loud 
metallic clank. They were instantly replaced with a thin piece of rope, 
applied with vicious intent. It was all over in a couple of minutes and I 
was carried away to one more unnamed fate. 

It was the same Lucio. I was dumped against his desk to stand tottering in 
tight tied ankles and terribly aware of being bare naked. He waved away 
those who had carried me and said carelessly, "'No need to untie her, she'll 
be going right out again. She's perfect the way she is. Stick around outside 
while I talk to her a minute." 

My mind was frightened with conjecture but I kept silent. In his own 
sardonic way Lucio provided half an answer to what I needed to know. "I 
don't have to waste time telling you things, Candice, or whatever your name 
is. But you're not a bad kid and I want you to know the time you spent in 
the chicken coop was only because I was trying to place you to your 
advantage and mine. I think you'll be pleased, it's better than a brothel." 

Damned the brothel, damn everything. I spoke my most urgent need. "What's 
being done with Quinlan Robins?" 

Lucio appeared surprised at my concern. He waved Quinlan into limbo with a 
careless hand. "Oh, him. He's dead. I thought you'd know. Bosco hit him too 
damned hard. Bosco's got a heavy hand. It doesn't matter. The damned guy 
would have been a bloody nuisance if he'd lived. He's caused me enough 
trouble already looking for you." 

My world was shattered. I stood there, naked, bound, and staring at the 
smooth talker behind the desk with wide, fearful eyes. I heard my voice 
saying, "He can't be dead. He can't possibly be dead. I love him." 

"He sure is, babe, whether you love him or not," Lucio assured me 
cheerfully. "But don't you worry none, I've got a real dandy of a deal fixed 
up for you. It's taken a bit of time but it's worth it. A month from now 
you'll be thanking me." 

"But Helen.. . And the ransom.. . ? " 

Lucio was enjoying his mastery of the situation and of me. He was getting a 
huge kick out of my bewilderment. "That Helen deal didn't work out just the 
way you and Quinlan and Helen wanted it. The police just make a social call. 
The police and me are real good friends. I've got a place to put this Helen 
woman, too. Not as profitable as you maybe but still a nice piece of 
chance." He gave me a smile, "Honey, you're about to start on the biggest 
and best adventure of your life." 

I was about to ask him what he had done with Audry but I bit the question 
back. Perhaps he did not know about Audry. Perhaps the bound teenager was 
still in the trunk of the car. And since the car would be stolen they might 
ditch it somewhere and she might find rescue, even without her hands. 
Certainly she would find no kindness here. Miserably I kept my knowledge of 
the girl to myself. Instead, I asked, "Why the mystery about me? Why can't 
you tell me where I'm going?" 

Lucio grinned and shrugged. He had a fine, large way of disposing of people 
and questions he had no intention of answering. He struck a bell and almost 
instantly the man came with the hypodermic needle. Seeing it, I went into a 
frantic panic. He was doing that professional bit of pressing the plunger to 
expel air bubbles and having the needle ready for the plunge, the plunge 
into my veins that would surely bring unconsciousness at least. 

"Give it to her and get it over with," Lucio ordered gruffly. 

I twisted. I struggled. But once more the bell summoned the hired help and I 
was firmly held while the needle found its target. It acted almost instantly 
and I sank down into oblivion. For all I knew it might be forever. 

When I came back into this world it was with the knowledge of a great 
distance and a strange place. The air was warm and the smell flowers drifted 
in through the huge glass doors that led onto a balcony. I sensed rather 
than saw these things, my attention, when it started once more to focus, was 
upon the aquiline features of a man working at a desk. I knew instantly he 
was Castillan. I thought of Quinlan and blinked back tears. I thought of 
poor Audry bound in the trunk of the car. I thought of Helen's possible 
fate. My mind was a turmoil of drugged memories. But as awareness returned I 
felt the pain of cords on wrists and ankles. I was still bound with the same 
cords and just as tight as when I had stood uneasily before Lucio. I did not 
move, I was certain motion would give me pain. In my newly awakened state of 
mind my feeling was: why bother? Nothing mattered anymore. 

"I trust your journey did not harm you, Miss Cosgrove?" The voice was as 
aristocratic as the finely chiseled features. "You have been unconscious a 
long time. Please accept my apologies." 

I did not come up with the conventional, "Where am I?" I didn't care where I 
was. With Quinlan dead, I didn't care about anything. I spoke only because 
pain motivated me. "Please untie me. I've been tied for so long. I hurt." 

I was not untied. My aristocratic companion, who was as far removed from 
Lucio as the two poles, raised me into a sitting position on the couch and 
fetched water. I drank greedily as he held it up to my lips. 

"I am the Don Felipe Avildar." He introduced himself with grave courtesy. 
"You are on my estate in San Beueno. You are very far from what you used to 
call your home." 

"Could I be covered please? I'm.. . I'm naked." 

"So I noticed, my dear." This time there was dry humor in his thin voice. 
"You have no need of clothes. You have become my personal slave. I have 
purchased and paid for you." He gazed down at me with a strange benevolence. 
"I ask you now to accept a status quo you cannot change. Everything has 
happened. It is done." 

"Could I have more water please?" 

Instead of water he gave me wine which I gulped just as hungrily. My mouth 
was dry and the heaviness of the drug was still upon me. It took my wits a 
time to gather themselves, then I said very simply, "There are no such 
things as slaves any more, you can't buy me and own me." 

"I have done both, my dear. Let us not split hairs. Let me say that I am 
more than pleased at my purchase." 

It occurred to me that, if I must belong to some man, then this courteous 
old man might be the perfect man. I remembered Lucio's assurance I would be 
happy with my lot. But I thrust these traitorous thoughts away and demanded, 
"I don't see why you don't untie me. I'm only a girl and I'm naked, you 
don't need to keep me helpless." 

"Ah, but I do! I have no doubt you would assure me of humility and 
compliance but the moment my back was turned you would run for what you see 
as freedom. Is this not so?" 

I could not deny the truth. I shrugged and retorted, "Every prisoner has a 
right to escape. And you have no right to hold me prisoner. The condition 
you hold me in right now should make you ashamed. You seem a cultured man, I 
cannot understand what you would want with a bound and naked girl from 
another land." 

"I do not want a bound and naked girl. I want a companion and an 
affectionate and obedient slave." He smiled and nodded at me benignly. 
"Since I am not prepared to whip you into submission or to break your spirit 
myself, I am passing you into the hands of some more skilled in such matters 
than I. This first acquaintance of ours is therefore brief. It explains why 
you remain bound." 

His thin parchment smile embraced me once again. Beneath this man's polished 
and kindly exterior were iron bars and steel. "I could have sent you to your 
destination directly from the plane. But I wished this meeting and to assure 
you of a future you will find more than desirable, a future such as few 
girls ever obtain. I want you to remember this in the trials and 
tribulations into which I am about to thrust you. Remember there is a 
purpose in what both you and I now do. You will emerge a far more desirable 
and costly piece of merchandise than now." 

I looked at Don Felipe askance, "You mean you're sending me somewhere to 
be.. . tortured?" 

"You dramatize with that terrible word, and there may be moments when you 
believe it true. But no, I am not sending you to the torture chamber. I 
prefer to look upon what you are about to endure as simply basic and 
practical education. When it is over you will agree with me." 

Don Felipe Avildar was easy to talk to. I might have gone on asking 
questions a long time but he clapped his hands and almost instantly a burly 
indio woman answered the call. At a nod from her master she smiled into my 
eyes as she enveloped my head in a hood to make me blind. She then knelt and 
untied my bound ankles. Evidently I would be required to walk. Her firm grip 
upon my bare arm led me from the room and from the presence of a man in whom 
I sensed a tremendous latent power. 

For the first few days the iron collar riveted on my neck chafed horribly 
but a girl's skin is as adaptable as the rest of her and it was not long 
before I wore my collar and chain as I might have a pendent. It was very 
much a part of me and controlled my life utterly as, naked and sweating, I 
heaved on the pole to which it was firmly bolted. There were six poles, like 
spokes of a great wheel, and six girls. I never learned much of the other 
five because we were forbidden to talk and, in any case, had little breath 
to spare from our exertions. When, with the coming of night, the wheel we 
propelled was allowed to come to a stop and we sank to the floor and were 
instantly asleep. We were not unchained but remained tethered by the iron 
links until work started again the next morning. 

I suppose by the standards of San Beueno the mill was modern. Its retention 
of girl prisoners with which to turn one of the big wheels was a punitive 
thing which not doubt some official had instituted with tongue in cheek. Our 
labors were doubly infuriating because within sight of our wheel was another 
shaft motivated by electricity. It revolved briskly day and night without a 
drop of female sweat. We eyed it longingly and with much bitterness. The 
floor of our work place or prison or whatever they chose to call it was of 
smooth concrete. In it was the grating of a drain. The management was much 
concern with feminine hygiene and made certain the overseer, a woman, hosed 
us down twice a day with cold water. These jet streams funneled themselves 
into the drain and carried away the normal waste products we toilers passed 
in our endless rounds. It would not have surprised me to be told I was 
working in this slavery to turn the shaft against a hidden brake. But 
instead I was informed there actually was a mill above and we were grinding 
something useful. This knowledge did not help much but it did help. When we 
lagged in our attention to your labors we were whipped. The chain to our 
collar was just long enough to allow us to stretch out at night. There was 
no escape. 

A loyal application of hard labor to our efforts was assured by the pleasant 
custom of making each of us a stool pigeon. If any of us fell short in what 
our fellow prisoners considered her fair share of the load, the overseer was 
immediately informed and the culprit was whipped whether she was guilty or 
not. These whippings were not of long duration, just a stroke or two upon 
our naked flesh, but they were enough! 

It was a bitter and frustrating captivity. Its labors were punitive and 
wearying. There was about the collars on our necks and the chains a terrible 
mocking implication of freedom. We could all work easily at our labors but 
the chains and collars kept us prisoners. There was always the feeling that 
there should have been something we could have done. Surely six pairs of 
hands and six pairs of feet should be been able to get the better of the 
woman with the whip or break one of the poles. In fact, we could not do 
anything at all except put our shoulder to the spoke and thrust with every 
muscle we possessed. We were utterly condemned, a tiny lost legion of 
sweating girl who had probably committed no sin. My status had been made 
clear to me by the woman who led me to my fate. 

"You be good girl. You work very hard. You please Don Felipe and then he 
take you back and be very kind." 

It was useless to ask questions, they were not answered. I was taken to the 
blacksmith to have the collar fashioned to fit then have it riveted on my 
neck. There would be no escape from it, it had no key. It did, however, have 
a single link at the nap of my neck and to this the chain from the pole was 
padlock. The five girls who were to be my companions and fellow prisoners 
eyed the procedure apathetically as they leaned against the poles, panting 
and without hope. The overseer was, in her own way, kind. I was not as 
toughened or hardened as my companions by their constant thrusting against 
their poles. At the start I was constantly sweating and being hosed down by 
the icy jet from hose as I passed it by. I tired easily and, if I devoted 
all my strength to my tasks, I would have been falling had the overseer not 
correctly gaged what I could take and whipped me only sparingly. The other 
girls soon tired of complaining of my failure to carry my weight. A new girl 
was evidently valuable merchandise and not to be killed the first day. I 
toughened up more than I ever dreamed possible and learned the tricks of 
thrusting at my pole and the art of sleeping on the concrete floor. 
Sometimes the overseer nodded at me knowingly as if we shared a secret. 

It was not until I had been chained thus for five days that Don Felipe 
visited the mill with its captive maidens. He was attended by a male 
supervisor and the two of them exchanged Spanish with our wardress and her 
symbol of authority, the whip. Don Felipe viewed us with his usual grave 
courtesy. If he asked questions about us, we did not hear them above the 
grind of the machine we turned. He did not appear to single me out for 
attention any more than any other of the six of us. I was bitterly piqued 
but dared make no complaint or draw attention to myself. Had I done so I 
would have been whipped, it was the rule. But as we slowly revolved I felt 
his eyes burn my skin each time we passed him by. It seemed each one of us 
chained girls sought his approval by straining and thrusting with extra 
vigor beneath his quiet regard. I hated myself for doing this but I was as 
bad as the rest of them. When you consider the situation you will see there 
was not much else we could do. 

By the time I had been chained to my pole a week I was thrusting with the 
best of the rest and took a strange pride in my ability to keep up my end. I 
think each one of the girls felt the same. Our labors ensured our perfect 
physical condition, and our sparse diet defeated any tendency to a tummy we 
might possess. I had never had much, now I had none at all, only a concavity 
which hardened day by day. I was absurdly proud of this and silently vowed 
it must never change. I do not know what my mental condition might have been 
had not the Don made me a promise and the overseer given me an occasional 
nod of approval and conspiracy. Not that she failed to give me the whip, I 
got the bitter strokes along with the rest of them when I absent-mindedly 
slacked in my efforts. 

On the eleventh morning, before we started work, my hands were once more 
crossed and bound behind my back, the padlock was taken from the collar on 
my neck, and I was led away, my place being instantly taken by a quaking and 
obviously frightened new woman who was still distraught by unaccustomed 
nakedness. My hope of freedom was short lived. I was being led to one more 
manifestation of male omnipotence in the punishing of female flesh. 

The ten days had taught me much and I was well aware of the lessons I 
learned. I beheld in the quiet gaze of the woman with the whip her 
increasing satisfaction with my humility and submission. Her keen eye noted 
the improved contours of my flesh as I strained at my daily work. I could 
look down at my own breasts and watch them tighten and take on lives and 
motions of their own under the stress of the pole. I had time enough to 
think in the deadly round under the constant treat of pain. But what was 
there to think about? Quinlan was dead, Helen was probably enslaved else 
where as was I. I could only guess at Audry's fate. All of us had been taken 
from our lives and I, at least, was being remolded to someone else's heart's 
desire. Sometimes I wept as I pushed at the pole but at night I too utterly 
tired for tears. As I became increasingly capable of coping with my 
punishment I became more and more curious where it might lead. The eleventh 
day revealed my fate. 

It was a strip of ditch, dry, arid and without purpose. Beside it was the 
earth excavated to bring it into being. I was guided to one end of it where 
my punishment mocked me with it futility. It was a huge iron ball and chain 
which was quickly snapped to an anklet around my ankle. My hands were untied 
and I was presented with a spade and it was made clear to me that, if I 
failed to fill the ditch by evening, I could expect the whip. My mentor went 
away chuckling. 

I stood there in a desolation of loneliness and bitter disappointment. We 
had approached this fresh punishment along a narrow dirt path and the woman 
with the whip was disappearing back along that path. She had assured me that 
there would be others coming along to view my labors and nakedness. I looked 
down at the three feet of chain by which I was fastened to the ball, I bent 
and tugged but the weight of it was beyond my strength. I could move it only 
by a sort of sideways roll. Well away, beyond shouting distance I could see 
another naked female figure hard at work. I looked at the spade I held and 
at the pile of dirt. It did not seem possible.. . ! 

I could not fool myself. The threat of the whip in the evening time was as 
potent now as it had been when chained to the pole. It would always be 
potent, always compelling me to some task I hated. I sensed in my present 
predicament a fresh subtlety in what was being done to me. Here I had a 
choice, a choice I had not enjoyed upon the pole. I could shovel fast or 
shovel slowly. In fact, I need not shovel at all, there was no one to spur 
my ambition. But my skin was already well whip marked from my pauses on the 
pole. I shuddered to think what would await me come evening if I failed this 
task. Hating every motion I threw a spade full of dirt into the ditch and 
then another and then another.. . . 

There were not many passersby. I came to realize that I must be on some kind 
of prison farm and those who used the path were beholding a familiar figure 
in a naked girl struggling with a spade. But there were both men and women 
who eyed me with avid curiosity and sometimes dropped a word of English to 
caution me about the whip and Don Felipe and what might await me at day's 
end. One woman laughingly assured me I would be violated by every man on the 
place before I was allowed to sleep. She lied, but I did not know it then. 
The ball and chain kept me were I was. In spite of its utilitarian purpose 
it was wickedly shaming. I hated to be seen thus shackled to the ball. I 
hated the thing, it was forever snubbing my foot as I worked. I had little 
need to move it for my pile of dirt receded slowly. When I did wish to 
advance it a few inches I discovered I could use my spade as leverage. A 
girl thus chained was prisoner for sure. Early afternoon brought the 
unkindest shame of all in the presence of Don Felipe. My labors had raised 
dust which clung to my sweat-stained nakedness to turn me into a mockery of 
feminine allure. I was positive I looked disgusting and smelled terribly of 
sweat. Don Felipe had driven out to visit me in a tiny car from which he 
descended and addressed me with courtesy, "You are gaining much benefit from 
the exercise, dear child. You are very beautiful." 

"I do not feel beautiful, I feel loathsome. May I sit down?" 

"No, you may not." His voice was sharp. ' 'You may however kneel. You may 
sit back upon your heels with your knees well apart with you hands upon your 
thighs. Do you understand?" 

I understood. I did as I was told, hating every movement. I felt a great 
deal of fresh shame and humiliation but I realized, too, that these emotions 
were not as deep or devastating as they would have been ten days ago. I was 
learning fast. For something to do I said, "I am glad I please you. Sir. How 
long must I go on being punished?" 

"That is not for you to know, my dear. But let us not call this punishment, 
it is simply a form of toil to which you were unaccustomed. It is turning 
you into something quite magnificent." 

We stared. Me with the chain trailing from one ankle to the ball and the 
iron collar still about my neck. I felt quit certain Don Felipe was gaining 
tremendous erotic satisfactions from me, who was, after all, his own 
creation in the condition I now was. Wanly I said, "I am ready to obey you 
in everything. There is no need to punish me further." 

Don Felipe eyed my pile of dirt and said, thoughtfully, "It is probable you 
will be whipped this evening, dear child. I doubt your work will produce 
results to satisfy those who must judge your efforts." 

"Please don't let them?" I begged in a passionate humility. "I'm not used to 
work like this, it's not my fault, whipping me won't do a particle of good." 

"Ah, but indeed it will. Pain is a refining influence on a girl, especially 
a girl such as you from a distant place and with white skin." His eyes roved 
up and down the immense mound. "But I suppose if you exerted yourself 
vigorously.. . . " He let the inference hang between us in the hot afternoon 
air. He had come only to look, to confirm some opinion of his own, perhaps 
also to gauge the quality of my body under the "refinement" of my labors and 
his lash. He bowed and wished me well, got in his little car and drove away. 

After he had gone I knelt there and wept. When I once again rose wearily to 
my task it was with a deliberate fury to determine if it was actually 
possible to do the work allotted to me in a single day. I discovered it was 
not. 

That evening I was whipped. 

8 

Maiden Skin 

It was a man who came to get me. He looked over the remaining quarter of the 
huge mound I had been unable to cope with and then, in surprisingly good 
English, consoled, "Well I guess you did your best, girl. But it wasn't good 
enough. It's the high jump for your this evening. But tomorrow you'll do 
better. Mark my words." 

He tied my hands behind my back. This act was becoming automatic. Even if I 
hadn't been ordered to do so I think I would have turned and crossed my 
wrists for his convenience and waited patiently for them to be bound. The 
factors governing my present life were so implacable, so impossible to 
combat, that I was resigned to anything. I could well understand the 
convenience of binding my hands, a girl about to be whipped or flogged or 
whatever they wanted to call it is apt to become hysterical. I could become 
as hysterical as I wished but it would do me no good. My new jailer took me 
by the arm, having first unlocked my ankle from the ball, and led me to my 
punishment. I was a naughty girl who had failed to complete her task. 

It was pretty much routine for this man who grasp my bare skin. I learned 
later that most of the girls who passed through his hands were simply there 
to be punished. Some to make them amenable to a man's will. Others, like 
myself, being molded and taught the lessons of submission by which they 
would walk their future paths. There were also girls who were legitimate 
inmates of the prison farm for some criminal act. I never found out the 
tasks these girls were allotted, but one of them was ahead of me in her 
payment of penalty for delinquency. 

The place was pretty much like an ordinary farm yard, well separated from 
the big house on the hill. Everything was wide and spacious but starkly in 
the center of the whole compound was a whipping post, a pillory, a set of 
stocks, and a gibbet sort of affair by which a girl could be suspended. The 
maiden to be punished ahead of me stood as submissively as I, hands bound, 
eyes wide in dismay, her arm clutched by the fingers of authority. An 
official who look very much like an army officer read out her crime and 
allocated a sentence. She was to receive ten strokes with a cane across her 
bottom and twenty more across her back with a whip. Upon hearing her 
sentence she wept in great bursts of grief and fear she could not assuage. 
Her hands being firmly bound at her back necessitated her guard doing the 
chivalrous thing and providing a bit of dirty rag which, to wipe away the 
salty evidence of her grief. Still sobbing she was led below the outrageous 
arm and then suspended by her wrists, the bindings of which were changed 
from her back to front. When her toes were searching for the ground they had 
lost and she was swaying gently in total suspension and total nakedness her 
punishment began. Seeing her dealt with before it was my turn made my own 
punishment twice as bad. I listened to her screams, I watched her dance as a 
puppet on a string. I watched her twist and jerk and seek to evade the 
seeking cane and the leather thong. When her feet were once more allowed 
upon the ground the poor girl was hysterical and was led away while still 
choking and gasping to regain the breath driven from her by pure pain and 
agony. It was then my turn. 

I had never felt more lost, more lonely, more alone. I did not even know if 
I was to receive the same punishment or more or less. I was led before the 
magnificently uniformed and beribboned officer to learn the fate this place 
dealt out to girls who failed to fill their quota. 

My sentence was read to me in somber tones of wicked potent. I had failed in 
an assignment and there was the suspicion of deliberate action on my part 
contributing to that failure. I would therefore receive twenty strokes with 
a riding crop across my bottom and thirty more with a whip across my back. 
It was a cruel punishment which left me gasping and inarticulate with fear. 
I had expected pain but this would be pain in a degree which may well render 
me unfit for the labor expected of me. The military had even provided a 
couple of drummers who did a magnificent drum roll as I was led to where my 
nakedness would be hung and made fully vulnerable to the whip and crop. I 
was just a little innocent girl faced with pure terror. 

I remember standing, quivering, as my bound hands were freed from my back 
and changed over to the front. A lot of cord was used and I could easily 
deduce the purpose was to do as little damage as possible to my wrists and 
circulation. That was damn little comfort. I was then led to the beastly 
gibbet with its damned outstretched arm, from which there dangled the 
inevitable rope awaiting my presence. There I was bound and then suspended 
with my feet above the soil, my toes reaching helplessly. But that, in my 
case, was not enough. A rope looped my left ankle and another was threaded 
to the metal ankle on my right ankle. They were then pulled towards rings in 
the sides of the gibbet, forcing my legs wide apart, obscenely spread and 
cruelly exposed. There was no part or crease of my femininity not open to 
the whip and the gaze. This was a one of the worst moments of my life. Over 
to one side I beheld the car of Don Felipe and his noble features appearing 
hungrily, his eyes burning into my nakedness. The roll of the drums rose 
then suddenly stopped. The silence was devastating. In that silence I 
received the first of fifty strokes. I heard myself scream but did not care. 

I suppose there are worst things that can happen to a girl than for her to 
be stripped, hung naked, and have her bare skin whipped, but I have not 
experienced them. There is a awfulness about the whip for it goes on and on 
and on, and a girl looses count as the weals mount on her skin and she feels 
as distant from her last reprieving stroke as when the first one cut so 
bitterly at her unsuspecting flesh. It was so now. The careful cruel strokes 
went on and on until the punishment of my twin cheeks below was discontinued 
in favor of the relative virginity of my back. The wicked, limber riding 
crop was cast aside and the whip took its place and, without pause, resumed 
my punishment. I was a girl who had failed to fill a hole with soil and must 
be punished. 

Within his car, Don Felipe had a clear view of my punishment, he probably I 
achieve fresh virtue from each stroke. I looked down at my naked breasts and 
beheld a thong mark where the lash had kissed. No part of me was safe, 
nothing! 

I remembered the term "hung out to dry," and wondered if that was why I was 
left to hang in total isolated loneliness after the final stroke had cut my 
skin. The staff disbanded and Don Felipe's car cheerfully disappeared, those 
who had whipped me gathered up their instruments of pain and went elsewhere. 
I was left to hang. And, no doubt, to reflect upon my sins. It was 
completely dark when I was let down, and then without ceremony hoisted into 
a truck and taken back to the ditch and the awaiting ball. There once more 
my shackled ankles was padlocked to the immovable sphere and I was left 
there to spend the night in company with my wealed back and bottom. I slept 
the deep sleep of exhaustion and agony, waking only intermittently to test 
my shackle and find it firm around my ankle. For me there would never be 
escape. 

I suppose they had to pay some attention to common sense. In the morning I 
was well and hardily fed, there was even a thermos of hot coffee but it was 
evident I was not considered I was invalid or even convalescent. I was 
expected to do a day's work and that work was to fill the ditch. Stiff and 
sore and wanting to cry I picked up the hateful spade, once more tested the 
shackle on my ankle, fingered the metal band around my neck, and went to 
work. I had no courage with which to resist or do aught else. I simply could 
not face another whipping in the coming evening. I had had enough. If I had 
had someone to make a vow to I would have pledged to do my master's will. 

It lasted a week. Only once more was I whipped and that time the sentence 
was relatively light ten strokes upon my back and bottom. Everything is 
relative, I felt glad at so light a sentence. The next day I was fastened 
and harnessed to the cart. I remember men who, laughingly, referred to young 
woman as fillies, well that's what I became. I was fitted with a bridle 
which exercised a savage control between my lips and above my tongue. It 
strapped above and around my face and from it there were reins. There was a 
belt for my middle and wristlets for my hands. The cart was equipped with 
shafts between which I was harnessed, fastened and bound. None of my binding 
inhibited anything, they left me free to run and stand and, above all, work. 
I was driven by a cheerful young indio who's English was limited to whoa and 
giddy up or "you want your ass whipped?" To get me started he yanked 
unkindly at the reins and flicked the buggy whip in a sharp snap across my 
skin. Longing to revolt but frightened to death I pulled and tugged and got 
the two wheeled cart into motion. Thereafter we spent the day on the prison 
farm, fetching and carrying and sweating even more than I had when chained 
to the pole. 

His name was Jose and I suppose he was no more cruel to me than any other 
teenager might have been. This punishment between the shafts and secured 
without any hope of relief or any hope of argument was not purely punitive 
but served some useful purposes around the farm. The whole thing was 
designed to precisely fit the physical limits of a girl. When we stopped for 
Jose to load and unload, I stood naked and panting, tethered by one of the 
reins, my forearms strapped tight to the shafts at either side, and traces 
from strapped shoulders and belted waist helping in my task of pulling a 
quite sizable delivery cart. To keep me enthused in this task, Jose had a 
whip and used it with gusto and total indiscretion. None of his blows were 
hard but most were intensely sexual. Once more I abandoned thought of 
protest. 

As a punishment it was not so bad, my main concern had to be Jose's whip. 
There were enough starts and stops to give me brief rest between the heaving 
and pulling. Jose did not walk beside me but sat jauntily upon the seat and 
flicked the reins and gave the strange English commands while cutting 
happily at me with his whip. like everything else done to me at this place, 
it was damned hard work. When night came I was as exhausted as I had been on 
the pole. To make this punishment appropriate I was housed in a barn with 
horses and cows, my right ankle shackled firmly to a ring bolt in the floor. 
I slept on straw and I slept stark naked. I fully expected Jose to violate 
me during the night but he did not. No doubt there was protective rules and 
the magic of Don Felipe. 

I was viewed and discussed and driven as a prize horse might well have been. 
I was not myself allowed to speak and, in any case, the bridle and bit 
prohibited even attempts. Mine was a stern purpose and, under the watchful 
eye of young Jose, I got more red strips upon my skin that I truly earned. 
But his weapon was not the crop or cane or the awful whipping of the formal 
flogging. I accepted it with grateful thankfulness. If hard labor cultured 
virtue, I was gaining heavily. 

Once again it was seven days before my hands were bound behind my back and I 
was taken from the ring bolt. I was even allowed to speak and since it was 
the woman jailer who tended me I lost no time in asking, "How many more of 
these punishments do I have to bear?" 

"They ain't punishments, you ain't had real punishment yet. What you've had 
is fun things. Don Felipe is very kind to you. Pretty soon I guess he take 
you to his bed." 

As we traversed what I thought of as the barnyard, I thought unhappily that 
I was probably to spend time in the pillory, stocks, and even the whipping 
post. Not that they needed the whipping post when they desired to whip me, 
they did it anywhere convenient. But something new had been added, my eye 
picked it out instantly. It might be called a table or a bench. Bits of rope 
were on the ground beside its legs but I could not figure out its purpose at 
first. When we reached it I could see that it was divided into sections at 
the middle. My hands were untied and I was told to lay upon my back and keep 
quiet. 

I loved that brief moment of freedom but dared not use it. Obediently I 
edged my nakedness up on to the hardwood surface and lay down as ordered. If 
I was to lay there long the wood would become increasingly hard. The bench 
was narrow enough to enable my jailer to tug my arms down to either side and 
bind my hand tight to the frame. This alone made me completely helpless but 
it was only the beginning. She now fitted stanchions vertically to either 
side of my waist, looped my ankles with rope, each one separate, then drew 
them up and back to tie them fast against the stout uprights securely 
anchored. Having completed this task to her satisfaction, she removed from 
beneath my hips the support from the lower half of the bench so as to 
protrude my bottom and hips suspended in air and cruelly exposed and lifted 
by these new bindings. I was held fast in a posture of total obscenity. 

"Pity not to let folks take a look at that pretty cunt you got." He who had 
bound me thus now patted, in a surprisingly male manner, the object of her 
four letter word to make sure it was tautly exposed and fully available to 
view. Without humor she said, "Be seeing you," and went away. 

I could not move, my hands were corded tight below, and my feet similarly 
bound but raised and spread unnaturally high to reveal that portion of me 
they usually hid. I had an excellent view of my own pubic hair. 

The day was different, it held no hard labor. It was purely sexual and 
cruelly shaming. Everyone on the huge estate came to look at my private 
parts and pass their own judgment upon their quality. And making jokes, most 
of which I could only guess at. I lay upon by back upon the bench, unable to 
move, totally naked and bitterly ashamed. For the first few hours my face 
was a continual pink, red or scarlet according to the interest of my 
audience. They were allowed to pat or to feel, but evidently there was a 
rule against penetration or insertion, none did. I had not been bound thus 
an hour before I realized to my own horror that the series of pats and 
probes could have but one results. To have so public an orgasm as these 
attentions might generate was humiliation indeed. I didn't struggle much, I 
knew from the beginning I could not free myself. 

Don Felipe delayed his visit until the afternoon. By that time I was willing 
to believe my vulva had been viewed and touched by half of South American. 
It had also been the resting place for innumerable flies and other insects I 
could not move enough to dislodge. It was a hateful and shameful way for a 
girl to be viewed by a man as cultured as the Don. But the Don had caused me 
to be fastened thus so his polite observations were enough. 

"As usual you look charming, dear child." His eyes approved everything they 
saw. "It is good that you be thus exposed and made to feel the shame of 
outraged modesty. When you are through this course of conditioning you will 
be an exceedingly whole young woman." 

"Please.. . ? " I pleaded urgently. "Don't keep me like this any longer. 
Even children have come to look at me and view what no child should ever 
see. I must appear disgusting. It's terrible that I should be so open and 
bare before your eyes." 

"You would prefer the ball and chain and shovel?" 

"Yes, I would! Please, I know you can break me but where is the profit in a 
broken girl?" 

"A shrewd observation, my dear. But have no fear, you will not be broken. 
You are making steady progress towards the final perfection I demand in you. 
Are you not pleased?" 

Secretly I was pleased with the end result. I might not enjoy the methods 
employed to bring it about but they were effective. The young woman Don 
Felipe would honor with his bed would be in superb physical condition. But I 
would not want to go to his bed, I did not want any part of what was being 
done to me, I did not desire perfection. I simply wanted to go home and 
cuddle in Quinlan's arms. But Quinlan was dead! Perhaps, since I had already 
sunk so deep into slavery, the Don Felipe might be a blessing for a girl so 
far from home that is if he ever stopped this damned conditioning process. 

His bland voice was accompanied by an equally arid smile, "I have received 
good reports of you, my dear. You are becoming increasingly humble and most 
desirably obedient. Congratulations! You are following a path and benefiting 
hereby far more than beneath an endless scoring of the lash." 

I wanted to assure this older gentleman of my conversion to slavery. I would 
obey and be as humble as he wished if only he would free me from these 
terrible tortures. I told him this things anxiously and brokenly in the 
distress of this punishment. He listened in a nodding attention but told me 
what I should have expected before I spoke. My course was not yet run. It 
would be he who decided when I reached the standard of excellence he 
desired. He walked away and the flies and insect reposed themselves of that 
portion of my person from which he had removed them with his riding crop. 
Some children also drifted up from nowhere and surveyed me with wide, brown 
eyes. My Spanish is poor but I could figure that the little boys were 
teasing the little girls that one day they, too, would lay bound upon the 
bench with legs spread wide for male approval. 

I suffered the bench only one day. I suppose its purpose to was to pinpoint 
the inherent sexuality of all I suffered. I was a sexual object being 
conditioned and made prime for the final penetration of the master's 
phallus. 

The next step in my progress towards perfection was a return to honest toil. 
I suppose the fact that the labor was to no useful end simply increased its 
punitive quality. I was take to a walled yard, peopled solely by the same 
five maidens with whom I had shared the poles and chains on that grinding 
wheel. They were attached to widely distance walls, two to one side, three 
to the other. There was a wheelbarrow and, when I saw the shackles hanging 
from its handles, my heart sank. When they were locked upon my wrists and I 
beheld the piles of gravel by which the maidens stood expectantly with 
shovels at ready, I knew how my day was to be spent. 

It was beautifully simple. I stood beside the empty barrow to which my hands 
had been chained and watched my companions in misfortune go to work shoving 
the gravel into my barrow's waiting maw, I then heaved with all my might to 
raise its legs from the ground and trust it forward across the yard to the 
other side and those who waited with their spades. Staggering against the 
load I thankfully tipped the barrow on its side to dislodge the useless 
cargo and then I stood passively but panting while by fellow delinquents 
shoved it back in again ready for my next journey. My jailer stayed for only 
the one round trip to give me instructions and warning. When he left us 
alone, the yard held five naked and chained young woman, anxious only to 
please. 

They shoved and I pushed. The smell of female sweat was heavy in the hot 
air. 

It lasted the usual week. The days were long, and if we paused to pant and 
seek a breathing space for too long a time, the door would open and the male 
warden above would shout an order that sent us hurrying back to work. But 
the nights were better than they might have been. We could not escape the 
courtyard with its high walls and locked door so we were granted a limited 
freedom controlled by shackled feet. Metal anklets joined by short spans of 
chain kept us aware of our condition and inhibited any gymnastics by which 
some might have scaled the walls. There were pails of water and we could 
roam the enclosure at will. But mostly we slept, but in our brief verbal 
exchanges, I gathered my five companions were in the same predicament as 
myself for similar reasons. They were either owned by, or had insulted an 
omnipotent male and were working towards redemption by this horrible, 
sweating labor and loss of pride. We were six unhappy girls with nowhere to 
go. The most defeating thing about my punishments was that they worked. I 
could not disguise from myself my increasing anxiety to conform, to be what 
Don Felipe desired. My paramount wish was to gain this perfection as soon as 
possible and reach some sort of comfort in the sun of his approval. As day 
passed into day I had to wonder how many days and months it might take to 
refine me to his heart's desire. I was never told. 

We were only whipped enough to keep us alert and anxious to do our work. But 
the strips we received kept us aware of hovering pain, of punishment ready 
to pounce. The whip and cane were never far from our conscious. They were 
vividly in mind now as I was led again into the wide sunlit barnyard towards 
the place of punishment. I hated the barnyard, it was so brutally public and 
a girl punished therein could be sure of a constant, interested audience and 
shame. My hands were, as usual, crossed behind my back and tightly bound. It 
was a precaution they no longer needed to take but it was religiously 
performed on each occasion when I was freed of chain or shackle. As we 
approached the stark and forbidding center piece of the several acres, I 
beheld a change, something had been taken away and something added. 

It was of stout timbers, wickedly bolted together and anchored firmly at 
either end to hold it immovably upright. What it amounted to was a heavy 
wooden panel, three feet high and five feet long. Dead center there was a 
hole, a hole far too big for either my hands, ankles or neck. I soon 
realized what it was for. As I stood there, naked and bound, my guard 
flipped back a lock and lifted the upper half to set it back upon its hinge, 
leaving an exposed half circle to invite my trembling flesh. When my hands 
were untied I was invited to insert myself in the obvious posture. Unhappily 
I obeyed, feeling nothing but silly and ineffectual in the posture to which 
I was now forced. Half of me knelt on one side and half of me was supported 
on the other by my hands and arms so as to leave me, in effect, on all 
fours, with my bottom well exposed back out of sight and presumably waiting 
to be caned or whipped as someone might desire. The top half of the panel 
was then lowered upon the small of my back to leave me tightly embraced in a 
circle made to fit most snugly and unable to do anything about anything. 

I was a naked, helpless body, pinched neatly at its center to divide it more 
or less equally into to two half, the lower of which was hidden from my view 
by the panel. I supported my frontal section with hands, well able to 
conjecture the appearance of the part of me behind and out of view. It was 
not long before my presence was discovered by a group of children who 
availed themselves eagerly of the chance to prod and feel that portion of 
myself I could not shield. Evidently I was to be fair game for any 
interested person. I could only suppose I would be whipped or caned sometime 
later in the day. Why else would I be thus held? 

I kicked back blindly at inquisitive hands but hurt only myself. I soon 
ceased that useless action and bore what I must in silence. It was wickedly 
tiring on my arms and shoulders, but the only way to ease this strain was to 
allow my breasts to fall towards the ground and fold my arms beneath my 
cheek. I suspected this made my appearance more absurd than ever and I 
resorted to it as seldom as possible. Most of my thinking was of the sounds 
I was going to hear and the pain I was going to feel as the chosen 
instruments impacted upon my curves. 

"Good gosh, Candice, you have a positive genius for disaster!" 

I froze in disbelief. The male voice from behind the panel addressing my 
protruding ass was that of Quinlan Robins. But Quin was dead! 

It must be the sun playing tricks with my tired mind. 

"You're hardly decent, Candice, my sweet, the way your bottom sticks out 
behind...!" Quinlan Robins strolled into my range of vision and stood 
looking down at me with the casualness I so well remember. His voice was 
tender, "Sweetheart, it appears I've found you." 

"But Quin.. . You're dead!" The stupid words escaped my lips without 
thought. I stared at Quin in a tremendous surge of happiness, not even 
concerned with how I must appear. Forlornly I added, "I love you so much." 

Quinlan knelt, and taking my chin in his hand, kissed my squarely on my 
lips. I kissed him back and even spared one tired arm to clutch at him in 
support and affection. Between kisses I muttered, "Take me away with you, 
Quin. Take me away from this awful place." 

Nothing is ever as we expect. I listened, panting with excitement, while my 
master explained he had no key with which to effect my release. It appeared, 
however, he did have an acquaintance with Don Felipe, assuring me with 
absolute certainty that, after a conversation with the Don, my release would 
immediately follow. Apparently the two of them belonged to that 
international fraternity of the intensely wealthy who scratched each other's 
backs. He told me that he had been stunned but not killed by Bosco's blow. 
Chuckling he related the total defeat of Lucio's minions and Lucio's power. 
Lucio was in jail and-likely to stay there. In seeking to best Quinlan 
Robins, Lucio had bitten off more than he could chew. I listened to the 
glorious sage with baited breath and with a resurgence of joy such as I had 
not felt since I had been with this man before. After we had kissed again 
and again, he got to his feet and told me to "hang tough" while he bearded 
Don Felipe in his den. I heard the car drive away and felt myself once more 
alone except for the occasional passerby. Time passed. 

I gauged the hours only by fatigue. I wish somehow Quinlan had an ax to hack 
me free from this wooden bondage. But I could understand the civilized 
transfer of my person was much to be desired. I looked forward to a flood of 
Castilian apologies. 

As time dragged and I was forced to resume the cycle of being on all fours 
or crouched in the effort to ease my arms, I most ardently yearning for the 
sound of an approaching car. 

It was not a car. it was the same man who had locked me with the timber 
grip. He walked within my view to survey me with approval. 

I am sure he would have been shocked to death had I not still be pinched 
within the wooden grip. But it was now I who was shocked. Dangling from his 
right hand was a length of limber leather which could have but a single 
purpose. My bottom cringed as did my voice, "You mustn't use that on me! I'm 
going to be set free, you mustn't whip me!" 

"Hell, girl, what you beefing about?" he demanded pleasantly. "I ain't using 
no whip and no cane. I got me a strap, it's nice and supple and will wrap 
around that ass of yours real smart. Where you get this silly notion about 
getting free?" 

I could have wept in frustration. This man and his length of leather was a 
hazard unforeseen. He would know nothing of Quinlan or of Don Felipe's visit 
from abroad. Moreover he would not believe a word I said, a girl in my 
position would make any lie to delay the impact of that terrible object he 
held with such carelessness. Desperately I pleaded, "Wouldn't you go to Don 
Felipe before you whip me? Please.. . ? " 

"You think I'm nuts, girl? A guy don't bother the Don with stuff like this. 
What's a whipped ass more or less? You've been a good girl up to now. Don't 
break your good record by being trouble now over a few marks on your rump." 

It would hurt terribly, I knew it would! Just looking at the beastly, limp 
length told me of bitter pain to come. Never was any maiden in greater need 
of rescue than I! If that rescue did not come at once I would be a sadly 
welted girl. As though to signify his contempt for my protests, my jailer 
swung his leather weapon and brought it smacking down across the center of 
my bare back. The blow and its resultant pain bent my elbows to cause me to 
thrust my face against my bare arms. Contemptuously he gave me a lighter 
blow across my shoulders, bringing tears of bitter frustration to my cheeks. 
He bent and raised me up to cause me to resume the all fours position and to 
tell me, not unkindly, "Is best you stay like this, kid. Getting your head 
down on the ground raises your rump and stretches it real good for the 
leather. I ain't aiming to break no skin." 

I knew I was trapped. It was a bitter refection that I would received this 
punishment perhaps only a few minutes before rescue and release. Even now 
Don Felipe and Quin might be on their way here, but by the time they arrived 
I would be a well-whipped young woman with a burnt and scolded bottom. I 
turned to watch my jailer disappear from view behind the panel. I waited in 
a tense and awful anticipation. 

Fire lanced my loins as the first blow fell. I could see nothing of what was 
being done to me but I certainly could feel. The leather flagellum was 
living up to my worst fears, it was a vicious instrument of pain and had 
about it a personal quality of venom. I beat a clenched fist upon the ground 
and kicked wildly with one foot, an exercise instantly inhibited by a shrewd 
stroke upon my upraised sole. The agony was so intense that thereafter I 
knelt submissively to endure whatever punishment I was given. Bitterly I 
reflected that obedience was the word for Candice. 

The jailer must have changed sides, no doubt with a view to strict 
impartiality upon my flesh. The second blow struck resoundingly across what 
I could neither shield or hide. Its pain was merciless. I was tautly 
motionless in expectation of number three when I heard the car. I received 
the awful impact of the blow with tears, but they were tears of joy. 

I was rescued in the nick of time. 

9 

Wealed Joy 

"No stroke upon a girl's skin is ever wasted," said Don Felipe. "She profits 
from all." His eye twinkled. "It is not impossible a seeming rescue of a 
damsel in distress might be ill-timed. A few more strokes might have made 
your Candice even more glad to see you." 

"How do you feel about that, sweetheart?" Quinlan inquired humorously. "But 
don't answer that one. If you deserve any more, I'll give them to you 
myself." 

"She's a young woman of extreme virtue and has benefited much from her stay 
here as my guest, Mr. Robins." The Don nodded sagely, "I will not pretend 
other than deep loss. But I am indebted to you for reimbursement for my 
costs. You are an honorable man, Mr. Robins." 

They were enjoying themselves hugely at my expense. I am female so my joy 
was tempered by the delay in returning me to citizen status. I was still 
naked. My hands were still tied behind my back. I was being discussed as 
though I were a domestic animal changing hands. Politely I inquired, 
"Wouldn't one of you two gentlemen like to cover me up?" 

"No, we would not!" My master's voice was stern. I was too close to the whip 
to demur and so tried another approach. "My hands are tied behind my back, 
in case you haven't noticed.. . . " 

"And very nice, too," said Quinlan with approval. 

"A bound maiden is forever virtuous," intoned Don Felipe. 

So, OK, let them have their sport. I was kneeling and resting back upon my 
heels. I bowed my head to show how deep was my submission to their will but 
kept one eye cocked hopefully. My bottom burned terribly. I was thankful my 
punishment had been limited to three, but I would not have put it past these 
two gentlemen who had found such a rapport to send me back to the panel and 
the remainder of whatever strokes I failed to get. Within it all I was 
gloriously and wonderfully happy. 

The hospitality of Don Felipe's house knew no bounds. We were to stay as 
guests for the night. I was not consulted about the invitation and would 
have much preferred whatever other accommodation San Beueno had to offer. 
But since that first moment of hearing Quinlan's voice and knowing him alive 
I had been consumed with pure lust, I desired Quin deep within me with an 
intensity of which I was almost ashamed. The stripes upon my flesh did no 
more than fuel my fire. By the time we reached our bedroom I could have 
cared less where I spent the night. Quin and I were fortified by a good 
conversation and the fine wine from our host. I could, with feminine 
intuition, pick up the Don's disappointment over this failure on his part to 
consummate his enslavement of me. I will admit I was curious as to what I 
would have received at his hands. He was an elderly man beyond the age of 
ordinary potency. But then, a girl could never be sure.. . ! 

Perhaps my consummation as his consort for a night might have been the 
benediction of my lips and tongue, a tribute I would have gladly paid and 
would be content to pay now in return for freedom. But Quinlan picked me up 
and carried me to where we were to spend the night. When he stood me upright 
beside our bed I asked, testily, "Darling, aren't you going to untie my 
hands?" 

There was no immediate response. Quin eyed me up and down in a manner to 
crinkle my spine but then did something to curl it up for quite another 
reason. He unhooked the belt from his waist and drew it free, running it 
thoughtfully through one hand and looking meaningfully at my already marked 
bottom. "You seem to have forgotten something, sweetheart. Being freed 
enslavement to Don Felipe does not free you from enslavement to me. You 
belonged to me before this happened, you still do. Do you want me to use 
this belt on you to prove my point?" 

Quin was right! I had completely forgotten. My mind had been filled with 
joyous ecstasy at being freed from the frightening captivity, but 

I realized this freedom released me from nothing previously enforced. From 
the moment of the assault in the garage in which I had believed Quin had 
been killed. I had been handcuffed and legironed and bound and very much his 
property. Nothing had happened to change this. Abjectly I said, "I'm sorry, 
I forgot. If you give me a little time, I'll get back into the grove. But if 
you want to whip me, please do. I won't mind. I expect I deserve it. But 
after you've whipped me, please give it to me good." I looked him in the 
eye. "I want you terribly." 

I'll admit to a sigh of relief when he treated the belt back in his pants. I 
wanted to be loved, not whipped. Sensing my needs, my master laid me on the 
bed and, with my hands still bound behind my back, subjected me to the 
roughest ravishment of our lives. It was wonderful. It was pure ecstasy. It 
sent me into an orgasm way up among the stars. When my last gasps were over 
and I was breathing more or less normally, he started in on me again. I lay 
with crossed wrists firmly bound behind my back, uncaring of the pain. All I 
wanted was his pounding thrusts and his gentle strokes in and out of my 
sheath to last forever. 

In the morning it was Quinlan who bathed me but a woman was provided to fix 
my hair. My master and I presented ourselves for breakfast in immaculate 
condition. Other than being still naked and with hands tied behind my back, 
all my master had done with the cords denying me freedom was to tighten 
their knots. When I considered it in the light of day I realized I was 
indeed back to normal. For me this was normal, and thinking along these 
lines set the smoldering fire within my sex to burning brightly. Drugged 
with sex I would have welcomed anything so long as it was my master who gave 
me pain or took away my freedom. 

The female servant stood beside my chair and fed me while Quin and Don 
Felipe carried on an animated conversation, ignoring my existence. The woman 
did not speak as she lifted the food to my lips. I sat and smoldered. The 
outcome of this delightful threesome was Don Felipe's suggestion, instantly 
accepted, for us to stay upon the estate one more day and to observe and 
participate in certain San Beueno customs I would gladly have foregone. But 
the offer was kind and Quinlan accepted it because he was genuinely 
interested in the place and he was truly grateful for an easy repossession 
of my person. What I wanted did not matter. 

The iron around my neck had gone unnoticed. I had become so accustomed to it 
I had forgotten about this symbol of my slavery. Thinking about it while the 
two men talked, I resolved to bring up the subject of its removal while Don 
Felipe's blacksmith shop was still available to us. I felt that my request 
would be refused and that Quinlan would take me home wearing it for all to 
see. I blushed to think of that, yet at the same time my fire flamed. 
Towards the end of breakfast they actually deigned to speak of me. 

"Your beloved Candice will, of course, accompany us today, and will enjoy 
sufficient freedom that I suggest a further restraint, Mr. Robins." 

I saw Quinlan hesitate but he was trapped just as I was trapped. 

"Of course," he agreed hardily. "Shackled feet perhaps?" 

"I have found a binding, not too tight, of a girl's elbows a most inhibiting 
restraint," the Don suggested gently. "If you concur I will instruct the 
servant according and he will make a proper job of it with some soft bands I 
use on such occasions." Don Felipe bestowed his thin smile upon us both, 
"Such a binding is not only an admirable restraint but it does a great deal 
for a girl's posture. You understand, her breasts.. . . ? " 

Everybody understood. I was going to get my elbows tied behind my back the 
same as my hands and this was going to cause my breasts to flaunt themselves 
even more than usual. It would also make quite sure that throughout the day 
I would forever be reminded of what I was. These two men were not going to 
give me the faintest chance of self-assertion. Once more I said nothing, it 
would have done me no good. But I did spare a reproving glance which 
elicited only a cheerful smile and a meaningful fingering of the belt around 
his waist. I sighed, this was normalcy indeed! 

The Avilidar Estate was vast, we could not see it all. But what we did 
behold was a measure of Don Felipe's power, he possessed a kingdom in which 
he reigned supreme. I even forgot the ache in my arms and became as 
interested as my two male companions. In the afternoon he suggested we 
attend a local function which took place only rarely and offered a unique 
opportunity to observe a facet of San Beueno life. We did not question, we 
went along. 

It was a dusty little village fighting an eternal battle against the 
encroaching jungle. On the bare outskirts was a dilapidated structure which 
might once have been a barracks or a fort or perhaps an ornate warehouse. 
Don Felipe's car drew up at the impressive portal. We were greeted in a 
manner we were now used to. Floods of Spanish flew back and forth and our 
new host, a man almost as distinguished looking as Don Felipe himself, 
turned his attention to me. I had become inured to stares and rarely blushed 
but as my nakedness was examined and I was turned around to ascertain the 
tightness of my bounds, I felt a familiar pinkness raising to my cheeks and 
then down to the collar on my neck. This collar was also a subject of 
comment. A question was asked and the Don answered. Then everyone but me had 
a good, hardy laugh. I began to put two and two together, I had been 
examined as available merchandise. 

The place inspired in me a nagging disquiet, there was something forbidding 
about it and I entered its cool gloom with misgivings. Quinlan was involved 
in another animated conversation with the Don and our new host. I had 
possessed a small store of Spanish before being kidnapped to this place, a 
store which was increasing by leaps and bounds. Ears alert, I picked up 
words and threads of a topic I found hard to believe. But disbelief was made 
a positive when Quinlan patted my bare bottom and whispered, "Think of it, 
darling, a real honest-to-goodness slave market." He laughed delightedly. 
"But dealing only in girls, of course. The owner thought we'd brought you 
here to be sold. That's what all the talk was about." 

I gazed up at Quinlan Robins in some panic. "You won't.. . ? I mean, you're 
not going to let them.. . . ? " 

"Don't be silly, of course not. These people understand about slaves so 
you're nothing remarkable to them. They asked a question and it was 
answered, that's all there is to it." 

He kissed me lightly, patted my closest curve. "But this is too good to 
miss. I'm damned interested. Damn it, Candice, don't you have a bit of 
curiosity?" 

What I had was a blush, an iron collar riveted on my neck, my hands and arms 
tied tight behind my back. I was now in a fortress devoted to the buying and 
selling of girls like me. There was no way I could fail to feel goose 
pimples. I was kissed again and assured everything would be all right. 

If this was fiction it would be about now Quinlan would get knocked on the 
head again and I would be whisked off to the auction block and sold and long 
gone before my hero regained consciousness. But it wasn't like that. It was 
beautifully civilized and, despite my fears, I began to become interested in 
both the place and those who occupied it. The old building must once have 
been a prison or else someone had recently spent a lot of money on iron 
bars. Cells and cages were all over the place and in at least half of them 
were girls, girls like me. Although most of them had a touch of coffee color 
to their skins, there were some actual blacks. Each wore the same thing, an 
iron collar around their necks, as did I, and each of them had her wrists 
crossed and bound behind her back. They were also beautifully naked. They 
viewed us through the bars with varying degrees of apathy or hope. The whip 
marks on their skin told me they had been told not to be impolite to 
visitors. They gazed upon me with sympathy as one of themselves. 

It was explained to us that the merchandise came to this place from all over 
the world, mostly because it was desirable to remove it from where it had 
been. The reason for a girl's enslavement could fall into many categories. 
The political, a jealous lover, a genuine need of cash by the girl's family 
or whoever had kidnapped her, perhaps simply a punitive wish to punish. All 
this was best done far from home and thus the slave market in the half 
deserted village within San Beueno. It appeared San Beueno had a tolerant 
eye for such activities and was content to pretend it did not exist. 

There were about fifteen men, most of them dealers. Those who purchased the 
girls had no wish to be seen, they delegated the role to others and paid 
commission. Most of the men held a few slips of paper to which they 
constantly referred, no doubt listings of the physical characteristics 
desired by the purchasers. There was a raised platform, the "block," and 
below it a desk at which a clerk would collect the bids and hand over a bill 
of sale. Don Felipe spoke of it with pride. I gathered he had purchased 
those other five girls I had shared the wheel and wheelbarrow with. He 
gravely explained he kept a small inventory both for his own amusement and 
as gifts for those who rated an honor. Perhaps he would buy another girl 
today to take my place. 

The girls varied, some obviously glad of a chance of escape, others fearful. 
There was also the small minority of proud and haughty beauties who's spirit 
was not yet broken and who might require the whip before they were properly 
trained. There were ten girls to be sold that day and we watched them go one 
by one to an undetermined fate. It would have been hard to believe had it 
not been for the iron around their necks and hands so tightly bound behind 
their back. The bidding was orderly but rapid, as though everyone wanted to 
get it over and done with. Breathlessly I watched nine naked girls sold into 
a life slavery, knowing how easily I might have stood upon that block myself 
and fetched a sum of money as huge as all the rest. It appeared that girls 
were worth more than precious metal. The atmosphere was such that I could 
understand the whole thing. Of course, I was conditioned and deeply 
impressed by Don Felipe and his power. He did not bid on any of the first 
nine, they went to others. He told me he was waiting for number ten. Number 
ten was special. Number ten was Audry. 

I was shocked, my breathing quickening as I gazed at Quinlan in mute 
question. But he shrugged and was as shocked as I. Seeing the interplay, the 
Don inquired, "You know this girl?" 

In a rapid exchange Quinlan and I told him of our knowledge of number ten 
and our concern for her. "Am I allowed to bit on her?" Quinlan demanded. "I 
can't just abandon the poor kid." 

"You forget it is I who will buy her," Don Felipe gently reminded. "No, your 
bid would not be acceptable here. They are wry of strangers here. I will buy 
as I first intended. She is quite beautiful, is she not?" 

Audry was indeed beautiful. Her spirit was unbroken and she was flashing 
insolence around the room as though her back was unmarked by the whip. She 
twisted against her bound wrists as though refusing acceptance of this 
helplessness. She had obviously been prepared for this sale, her nakedness 
enhanced by cosmetic arts, her hair a crowing glory. Judging by the rest, 
Audry was going to cost Don Felipe a pretty penny. The bidding started 
immediately, and Audry's absorption with those who sought to possess her was 
such she failed to notice our little group well to one side and uninvolved. 
But the auctioneer was aware of us and from time to time caught Don Felipe's 
eye to receive a confirming nod. At the end of the bidding Audry had fetched 
the highest price of the day and it was Don Felipe who was her new owner. 

Dinner was the same as the previous evening except that now a cloud hung 
above the three of us while my master and Don Felipe ate and I was fed. But 
the conversation was in English and came too swiftly to its inevitable 
conclusion. "I would not have inflected this contretemps upon you for the 
world. Believe me I regret this deeply." Don Felipe's voice was troubled. 

"She is the daughter of a personal friend, she is little more than a child. 
We cannot possibly go away and simply leave her in San Beueno." Quinlan was 
obviously as troubled as our host. Reflecting on my observations of Audry on 
the auction block I was positive Quinlan could not make good his objection 
about the child status. Audry had thrived on whatever they had fed her, or 
maybe the prison had just gone to work on improving her for sale. She was 
gloriously beautiful, I had to admit this fact. She was sparkling and 
buoyant and a challenge to the virility of any man. For those who provoked 
her. Audry would fight them. Her breasts were simply gorgeous and her 
nipples had been tinted deep scarlet. I wondered, fearfully, if Quinlan was 
realizing it was the Don who now owned her and would value her charms as he 
had mine. It was asking a lot of him to part with both of us. 

"I must ask you, dear friend, to take your beloved back to whence you came 
but leave me mine, this young houri I have purchased before you eyes. Surely 
I do not ask too much?" 

"You will keep her? You will not sell her elsewhere?" Quinlan was fighting 
in retreat. 

"She will remain with me. She will be trained." 

"You mean she'll suffer everything I suffered?" I asked without thinking. 

"Indeed, yes. I suggest you owe me thanks and not reproof." The Don's 
reprimand was faintly acid. 

I knew him right. He was stating no more than the truth. I may have hated 
what he described as "training" but I can not deny its effect on the person 
of Candice Cosgrove. I was constantly aware, since our reunion, of Quinlan's 
increased interest in my body. We had been constantly absorbed with other 
things but I caught him gazing at my figure from time to time. Whenever we 
got away from the influences now surrounding us, we would wallow in 
concupiscence and dissolve our love in sex. But now was now. I felt the hand 
of Don Felipe cold upon my flesh. 

Our trouble was we were too damned civilized. Even the enslavement of girls 
in San Beueno gathered into itself a culture lacking elsewhere, this place 
was on the right path, all else was out of step. Don Felipe had sold me back 
to Quinlan for a horrendous amount of money, but he was prepared to be 
offended if we pressed our demands for Audry's release too hard. He would 
understand but he would n forgive. By his standards we were imposing on his 
generosity an hospitality. He told us so in his own quiet, dignified fashion 
and at the end of it there was nothing for Quin and I to do but agree. I 
suppose that in the back of our minds there was the awareness that, if Don 
Felipe chose to use force, he could put me back on his chain gang and send 
Quinlan Robins packing. I could well imagine him doing this and returning my 
price to my former master with his usual bitter courtesy. Quin and I 
understood. We shrugged and exchanged glances of hopelessness. But I could 
not leave well enough alone. I had a vision of Audry engaged in some dull 
and futile labor under the constant threat of the whip. It seemed so wrong 
for her to enter this servitude when I was there to help. 

"Then please let me spend a day or two with her at the start so she won't be 
too devastated by what her 'training' really is," I pleaded. 

Quinlan was disgusted, "Don't be ridiculous, Candice, that little girl is 
hard as nails, she'll survive anything. Don Felipe did not torture you, he 
won't torture her. She'll probably be flattered to belong to an aristocrat." 

"I'll bet she's crying her eyes out right now." 

"What Candice suggests is not without merit," Don Felipe interposed quietly. 
"Its principle benefit would be to allay your sense of guilt. And I'm sure 
its effect on the girl you call Audry would be beneficial, a helping hand at 
the beginning of her new life. If Candice is willing.. . ? " 

I had got myself into something. I was suddenly trembling and afraid but had 
set a ball to rolling in a way I could not stop. Later on, while we were in 
bed, Quin was heavy with reproof, irritated at an unexpected delay, 
uncertain of the wisdom of my choice. But Don Felipe had shrewdly placed his 
finger on the pulse, the male pulse which so easily responds with guilt to 
frustration it cannot cope with. Even with all his money, Quinlan could not 
rid himself of San Beueno or the man who's word was authority here. It was 
decided that in the morning I would become his slave again. Quinlan would 
leave to do business in the coastal city but would keep in touch by phone 
and return to pick me up and take me home. It was a beautifully conceived 
plan by which everyone benefited, even me, I was not without guilt of my own 
when it came to leaving Audry here in chains. The lovemaking between 

Quinlan and me suffered from mutual irritation. But did not suffer long and 
the irritation gave way to a splendor we had never previously achieved. I 
went to my fate with a reasonably light heart. 

The "estate" was endlessly inventive. My reunion with Audry took place as my 
guide led me to a bit of woodland beside which a slender, nude female figure 
was busy sawing logs. There was a trestle upon which the branch or segment 
of tree was laid and a bucksaw in the hands of a young woman who obviously 
knew little of its use. I guessed that Audry had been busy at this task for 
some time but only a couple sawn-off chunks were visible. The trestle was of 
heavy timbers, well anchored in the ground. To it was bolted the chain which 
trailed to the shackle on Audry's ankle. On its other side was another 
shackle, invitingly open. My heart sank. When we drew close we stared at 
each other, Audry in wide-eyed disbelief, me in pink embarrassment. 

"Candice.. . ! Oh, darling...." 

"Audry! Oh, Audry, I'm so terribly sorry...." 

We embraced. My hands had been untied on arrival and I was free. Never had 
two girls held or kissed each other with such fervent ardor or thankfulness. 
While we were still close and nakedly together I felt the inevitable shackle 
close about my ankles and hear the harsh male voice, "You be done this job 
by night or you get whipped." The voice departed. We did not see him go. 

There was so much to tell. Audry was unconscious of impending punishment but 
I was not. After breathless minutes of endearments and the tale of Audry's 
coming to this place and my own misadventures told, I reminded that 
sparkling companion that if we did not get the logs sawn as directed we 
would both be soundly whipped that evening. I might as well have been 
speaking to the wind. 

"Oh, that. Don't pay attention to that stuff, Candice. Look, I simply have 
to tell you...." 

I listened to how Audry had lain quietly bound within the trunk of our car 
while I was taken and then had been driven to where the stolen car would be 
made over, repainted, and resold. There she had been discovered and returned 
to Lucio. By that time I was gone and she was conveniently purchased by a 
representative of the slave market which had transported and trained her in 
its own way until yesterday. I could fill in as many blanks for her as she 
for me. 

The logs were solid. There were costive. They would not go away. 

When I came to try the saw on them I found I was not much more adept than 
Audry. The bucksaw was well named, it bucked. But gradually I mastered it 
and developed a somewhat successful technique. Audry sat and watched, 
playing with the anklet and chain which held her to the trestle until I 
threw the saw at her in disgust and told her to pull her weight. Little by 
little she got the feel of the saw and a pile of sawn logs began to grow. 
They had to be cast aside to make room for others and we shared that task as 
we shared the labor of the saw. Soon we were sweating and all the cosmetic 
art bestowed upon dear Audry disappeared, to be replace by the determined 
anger of a naked girl determined to beat the system. I consoled her as best 
I could, warning that I would be her companion for only a couple days. 

"Darling, you mean you're enduring this just to help me?" she demanded. "Oh, 
Candice, I hadn't dreamed...." 

"Well, I thought it would save you heartache and fear of what's going to 
happen," I admitted guiltily. "Nothing is going to happen to you except a 
lot of hard work and some punishments when you don't make your quota. At the 
end of it is Don Felipe, the aristocratic old gentleman who purchased you." 

Audry stood, digesting my information. I was then embraced in a storm of 
young gratitude which ended when she broke away, her features heavy with 
expectancy. "Darling, you mean he'll fuck me? Isn't he a bit old?" 

"He'll make you service him in a sexual way, you can be sure of that, Audry. 
Now let's get on with this job." 

"Oh, damn the job." She stamped a shackled foot to make it rattle in 
protest. "You have Mr. Robins around to fuck you all the time. All I get is 
some old fart." 

"You'd best stop thinking about sex, Audry." I advised. "Even if you love 
the guy, you can't do it day and night. There has to be other things." 

"What other things!" she demanded with a pout. "There isn't anything else. 
Oh, Candice, you know there isn't anything else. These chains on our ankles 
are only there because some man wants to fuck us." 

"Audry, stop using that horrible word. If you have to keep saying it then 
use the first letter, I'll know what you mean." 

"Well, OK then. You know, Candice, we're both were we are, naked and chained 
and working like crazy, because a couple of guys want to.. . F us. The whole 
world revolves around F'ing. You can't tell me different. I want it and so 
do you and so do the men who tie us and chain us and strip us naked. Isn't 
it fun!" 

It was an argument I could not win, I gave up trying. I devoted my energies 
to persuading Audry to do enough work to save us from getting whipped. 
Neither one of us could have sawn enough logs to escape punishment. But I 
was hopeful that the two of us could combine our efforts might actually win 
out. We sawed busily. We tossed the logs into an ever-growing pile from 
which I took heart. But then the fading day brought the man to tie our hands 
behind our backs. There remained a pile of untouched wood to condemn us 
utterly. Thoughtfully the jailer joined our necks with a loop of rope and a 
three foot span. He winked at me as though we were old friends but obviously 
distrusted Audry. I could understand his sentiments. 

I was sure it was simply a sense of what was proper that caused me to be 
punished by the same, unfinished punishment I was just starting when Quinlan 
had rescued me. It was the same panel and the same waist-wide hole in the 
center. The flagellum was thoughtfully hung from a nail driven into the 
heavy timber. When my hands were untied, I had no thought of running away. I 
knew escape was impossible and why screw things up when freedom was only a 
day away or the day after. I knelt obediently and inserted my middle into 
the hole then cringed as the lock clicked shut. Audry stood by, her hands 
still bound and watched the proceedings with wide-eyed dismay. It would be 
about now she would be wishing she had exerted herself more at the woodpile. 

Unexpected and for reasons I could not name, it was the woman who came and 
took the flagellum from its nail. Helpless on all fours I watched her test 
and turn the wicked, supple leather in her hands as though in affectionate 
memory of other girls she had punished. The limber leather had a life of its 
own, or so it seemed to me, who was about to feel its bite. But she smoothed 
and measured it as though with love, and then, in a surprising burst of 
humor, held it to my lips to be kissed before it cut my skin. I kissed it 
dutifully and avoided Audry's eyes. 

I suppose it could have been worse. The blows were not as cruel as I had 
taken from the man that previous time but they were placed shrewdly on my 
unprotected rear and beat at me steadily in a rhythm I found impossible to 
bare. The steady beat of strokes, one after the other, led me to the 
humiliation of the age old plea, "Oh please, not so hard! Please can't you 
do it slower! Please, I can't bare it, I just can't...." 

The slap of leather on my skin went on and on. The flagellum seemed to 
burrow deep within my being to dissolve me in a well of agony. I know it was 
not the most severe of punishments but while it was happening it hurt like 
hell. It was made no easier to bare by the realization that I should not be 
getting it, that the deal was for me to keep Audry company, not to share her 
punishments. It was a bitter thing to know that Don Felipe had failed to 
leave instructions to protect me. Or had he forgotten.. . ? Perhaps I would 
never know. I knew it would be useless to try to persuade the woman to stop 
using that leather on my bottom. She would continue until convinced I had 
had enough and that was simply that! Glances I stole at Audry while I 
pleaded and kicked and cried told me that my punishment was having an effect 
on her teenage ebullience even though it had none on me. When the leather 
stopped its rhythm and I was released from the panel, I was weeping and 
bitterly ashamed. I was left in freedom for a few moments and tenderly 
rubbed my wounded rear. The weals were easy to feel with my fingertips. Then 
my wrists were once more crossed and corded and I stood aside obediently to 
watch Audry get her share. 

Audry did not yield passively, the had to be manhandled into position until 
the hinged upper half was firmly locked on her waist. She was only then 
resigned to what she could not evade. She looked at me with a mixture of 
pleading and fear on her face until the leather made its first cut at her 
unprotected rear. After that Audry's behavior followed about the same course 
as my own. A girl simply can't help but to plead while so being tortured! 

We were a pair of subdued and tearful slavegirls as we were led back to the 
trestle. We could not dry our tears for our hands, as usual, were tied 
behind our backs. We stood forlorn as the shackles bit our ankle and locked 
tight. When our escort turned to leave I exclaimed, "But we're still tied 
and our necks are roped!" 

He paused and looked back, enjoying his own quiet humor, "You untie 
yourselves. Will be no punishment. You be loose in ten minute." He resumed 
his march back to the buildings. 

"Rotten ass-hole!" said Audry. 

"He could be right," I ventured optimistically. "It would take us longer 
than ten minutes to untie each other. Do you want to try or are you too 
tired?" I asked. 

"Tired my foot!" Audry sniffed angrily. "I'm not tired, I'm mad. Fancy 
beating us with that leather thing just because of a few lousy damned logs. 
Darling, this isn't going to happen every night, is it?" 

"Not if we make our quota." 

"Piss on their quota!" Audry wiggled to try and touch her wounds. "I've 
never been whipped like that to hurt so much before. And that beastly thing 
they locked us into. I could have died. Darling, will you work on me or will 
I work on you?" 

We were cleverly tied. It took longer than half an hour before we stood free 
and took the tethering rope from our necks. If we hadn't wanted each other 
so badly, I don't suppose we would have taken the trouble. But we did want 
each other and our first act after tossed the final rope aside was to clutch 
and hug and kiss. Before taking our lovemaking farther, we stood apart and 
kicked despondently at the metal locked on our ankles. It responded with its 
usual clink in a derisive, metallic taunt. "Oh, shit, this is for the birds, 
Candice. We're almost free and we have to stand here like a couple of 
dummies!" 

I shared Audry's irritation. I was sure we were two of the most frustrated 
females in the world, but certainly not the most frustrated in the matter of 
sex at least not for long! We gave up bemoaning our chained feet and dried 
our eyes and cheeks with fingers suddenly free. We then treated the pile of 
logs against which we must spend the night to a vision of lesbian love, I am 
sure they failed to appreciate. After that we slept, we were terribly tired. 

In the middle of the night we awoke and made our love all over again. If the 
logs laughed silently to see us, we could not tell. All we knew was we were 
two naked girls, chained and very far from home. A pair with wealed bottoms 
who were-likely to have wealed backs on the morrow if they did not smarten 
up! 

Slavery is sad. 

10 

The Links of Longing 

We were awakened in the morning by a cart unloading a further supply of 
wood, rough stuff from the trees on which we would have to labor through the 
day. But is was not us who would do this particular grind. Tethered behind 
the cart were a pair of girls I had not previously seen. Their necks were 
roped, their hands were bound as ours had been the night before. Audry and I 
were routed out of slumber and our shackles unlocked and left open. We were 
taken to the back of the cart and there exchanged with the two newcomers who 
appeared apprehensive. Within a minute their ankles were chained within the 
still-warm shackles. Our hands were tied behind our backs and our necks 
noosed and tethered behind the cart. It was a business-like exchange and I 
heard the girls given the same warning we had received the morning before, 
with the same threat of the whip for failure. The poor dears flew instantly 
to the task in a fumbling, feminine futility reminding me of Audry's first 
efforts. The sawn logs were then loaded in the cart and I was surprised 
Audry and I were not commanded to perform this task. Perhaps it was not 
worth the bother of untying us and then tying us up again. In wan dejection 
Audry and I trudged behind the departing wagon and glanced back at a new 
pair of nude beauties laboring at a task with which we were well acquainted. 
I think we would both have preferred to stay with the logs, we had become 
used to them. But what we wanted didn't count. Obediently and trying not to 
trip and break our necks we strode dutifully behind the cart to whatever was 
next on our list of "training." It was an isolated trough, the sort of 
system to which animals came to drink, besides which was an old-fashioned 
water pump with large, curving metal handle. Running from the pump into the 
huge trough was a spout. It was a very big trough, seeming to us poor girls 
like a small swimming pool. When I realized what we were to do that day I 
resigned myself to the whip once more that evening. I could tell Audry did 
the same. 

But it appeared we were not yet ready for our day's work. While we were 
still tethered to the back of the cart the two male servants in charge 
proceeded to fill pails with water from the pump and douse us down. We could 
not get away from the icy water and they refused to listen to our assurances 
we would sooner be dirty than frozen. Our hairdos and cosmetic work 
disappeared under that deluge we could not avoid. Because our hands were 
tied behind us we could not even shield our faces from buckets of water 
thrown at us. When they had finished with this sport, they varied our 
tethers by removing the ropes tying your necks to the cart and padlocking 
the bands around our ankles with a length of chain the other end of which 
was padlocked to the platform of the pump. There was a chain and padlock on 
each side so we wouldn't tangle as we worked. We were then tossed a couple 
packets of food for our breakfast and laughingly told we would not be short 
of water. They freed our hands and, still laughing, drove away. The system 
looked dauntingly empty. 

There are times when labors of life seem too overwhelming to even try to 
cope. It was so now. Audry looked at the empty trough and expressed my own 
point of view, "Piss on it, we'll never fill that damned thing. Come on, 
let's sit down on the platform and eat what they've given us. I don't 
suppose there's any chance of freeing our feet, is there?" 

There was no chance! We tried for a while but gave it up. It was pleasant to 
sit on the small platform and consume the food. When it was over we looked 
at each other in conjecture. "It's hopeless," said Audry, "I'm not even 
going to try." 

I stood up, fingering my wealed rump with its ridged reminders of my 
delinquency the day before. Some how I couldn't face that panel and the 
agony of what was done to me back where I could not see. "We have to try," I 
said dolefully, "I'll go first. Your bottom may be tougher than mine. Audry, 
but I simply can't stand another whipping this evening." 

"Neither can I. But we're going to get it." 

I leaned on the handle with gloriously free hands, the effort needed to work 
the handle up and down was neither hard or easy. The water came after the 
fifth stroke and thereafter ran in a continuous stream so long as we worked 
the handle. It was hard work, not the sort of stuff for girls or children. I 
was soon short of breath and yielded the curved metal handle to a sulky 
Audry who soon desisted and announced revolt, "Piss on them! They don't give 
a girl a break. We can't fill that lousy system if we pump for a week." 

"We haven't tried yet, Audry." 

I felt sorry for Audry even as she stood there pouting while I worked. 
Chained as we were we had nothing else to do all day and it seemed to me we 
might as well gauge the capacity of the system to defeat us. The water 
splashed out the spout and down the trough. It took a long while to get the 
bottom surface totally covered and that was a far ways from filling the 
damned thing. We had thirty inches to go and a rough calculation told me 
(based on how long it had taken to cover the first inch) the task was 
actually possible if we applied ourselves. I broke this news to our 
companion who's retort left me with little doubt that if she ever reached 
Don Felipe at all she would by that time be a well whip-marked girl. But 
there was something lovable about Audry and I continued to work until she 
caught the rhythm and took over from me when I needed rest. 

I stood the labor best for I had been conditioned in all the previous 
punishments I had borne. But we both sweated profusely and exchanged each 
other's girl smell while we pushed the plunger up and down endlessly and 
kicked our chained ankles in discontent. Watching Audry at work I saw how 
exquisitely beautiful she was. Such beauty made her price beyond rubies and 
I stood close by to watch the play of her breasts and the concavity of her 
almost nonexistent stomach with a narcissistic wave of pleasure. I could not 
behold myself as I worked but Audry and I were a mirror for each other as we 
worked. 

"How long do we have to go on doing these beastly jobs, Candice?" 

Audry listened to my disclaimer of knowledge, retorting, "What I expected, 
what I hoped for was the Odealesque thing, you remember the painting, 
Candice, I'm sure you do. That beautiful painting of the harem girl 
reclining on the divan waiting for the master to come and fuck her. I'll bet 
she never had to pump water." 

Probably Audry was right, yet thinking over the spectrum of female slavery 
and the privileged status of the harems, I could not but wonder how many 
masters might have got wise to the wisdom of a bit of manual labor for a 
girl who was beginning to put on weight! I could well believe Audry and I 
were not the first. Consolingly I said, "You'll be proud of yourself when 
this is all over and done with. I'm already proud of myself, and I didn't 
finish the course." 

"Well, Candice, you were beautiful to begin with. You must feel damned good 
about going back to Mr. Robins today or tomorrow." She paused a moment and 
added, doubtfully, "That is if they really let you go. Making you work this 
way and whipping you last night seems damned odd to me if you're the 
mistress of a millionaire who's a friend of his nibs who owns me. Jeepers, 
Candice, what a hell of a mess!" 

When the cart returned at end of day, the system was still five inches short 
of being full. Actually I thought we'd performed wonders, a small miracle 
for a couple of girls, one of whom was untrained and not inclined to toil. 
But the other half of me bitterly reflected that if Audry had really put her 
back into the task, and had I worked just a little harder, we might now be 
going home to a peaceful place instead of to a punishment. Glumly we watched 
our guards measure the deficiency before they unlocked our shackles and took 
us to the tailgate of the cart. There were rings. Our arms were extended and 
our wrists bound tight to the metal eyelets. Audry and I would walk behind 
the cart when it was in motion and stop when it stopped. All the time our 
arms would be stuck out straight in front of us and our hands firmly secured 
to its tail. It was one more humiliation I supposed I could endure. 

But is was far, far more than that. Our punishment must have been a foregone 
conclusion, for the villagers stood at points of vantage to watch our 
progress around and around a predetermined course. Our punishment became all 
too evident when the cart stopped, one of our guards dismounted and 
retrieved a whip from beneath the seat, then took up position behind our 
backs, our naked backs. "You walk, I whip," he informed us briefly. "You hop 
around all you like, I whip you just the same." 

He was as good as his word. Audry and I yelped and hopped around evasively 
after each stroke had wound itself somewhere around our nudity. Our whipper 
moved from side to side so as to cause us to cringe in anticipation of his 
return to us. The cycle was brief, and gave us little breathing space 
between the blows. It was a thin and tapering whip biting at us with pure 
venom. And neither Audry or I was stoic enough to bare its bite impassively. 
Instead we jumped, we kicked, we danced a dance of pain to the gratification 
of all viewers. The driver of our cart looked back as he slowed the single 
horse to the barest of walks that we might enjoy our travail to the fullest. 
His act was applauded by those along the way, it gave them a longer time to 
enjoy the rise and fall of the whip and to hear the impact of the thin thong 
upon our skin. Our bottoms were ignored, they had had it yesterday. Today 
our backs were delivered to receive their weals. Audry and I tugged 
frantically to free our bound hands, it was a waste of time but the only 
satisfaction we were granted. Our wrists were soon chafed and red, but the 
ropes as tight as ever. When we kicked back in anger and pain, we were apt 
to receive a cut of the lash across the sole of our foot. We were soon cured 
of that one. He was a clever bastard and good at snaking the thong up 
between our legs and biting our crotch. This specialty of his really got 
results, each time he did it we went berserk, not only from the pain but in 
outraged femininity at so needless a violation of our secret place. I don't 
know how many times we followed our cart around the circle, it seemed 
forever. 

At the end of the final lap, Don Felipe was waiting. The cart came to a halt 
for his convenience and he stood examining a pair of sweating maidens who 
were, by any standards, far from attractive. His eyes measured Audry with 
approval but it was to me he spoke. "Candice, I have a message from your 
owner. His business delays him but he asks I give you a choice. Tomorrow 
morning you may enter my hacienda and there be my honored guest, clothed and 
tended as the princess you are. On the other hand you may prefer to stay 
with this youngster who is mine. Please feel no obligation either way." 

"I'll stay with Audry," I said decisively. 

"It is the answer I expected." Don Felipe bowed to me in his quaint, courtly 
fashion and added, "You are a young woman of great quality." 

Audry had been weeping and drying the tears on her bare, pinioned arm. She 
cocked a chastened eye at her owner. "Don't I have any quality, too?" she 
asked, almost humbly. 

"Of course, child. You are responding admirably. I am proud of you. But you 
must forgive me if I express regret at loosing Candice. I must leave you now 
but wish you luck on your third day." 

"You're an absolute idiot, Candice, you could have gone home free. You 
didn't have to stay with me," Audry accused. "Gosh, I feel lousy getting you 
into all this. Look at the way we've been whipped now, we don't deserve it, 
either." 

"I got into it myself, Audry," I told her severely. "I'm still glad I got 
into it. I'm glad to be with you for this brief time. After I'm gone do try 
not to get too angry and get yourself punished too much." 

"Well, I suppose his nibs is right," Audry conceded defensively. "You are a 
bit older than me and you do handle things pretty good. In fact, I'll never 
handle this slavery thing the way you do. My ass is going to get cut to bits 
the first month, I can see it coming. Why the hell don't they untie us from 
this lousy cart and put us to bed?" 

The cart was simply a convenience, they drove it to where ever they wanted 
us and we followed along, our bound wrists telling us to be good girls and 
not act silly. 

They took us first to be washed down with a hose, a distinct refinement from 
the buckets. Next it creaked out beyond the village and into the surrounding 
fields, one of which was planted with potatoes, ready for harvesting. We 
knew our fate. There were the two huge metal balls, the chains, the 
shackles. Our hands were untied from the tailgate and our ankles safely 
shackled. We were tossed a couple of garden forks and told of authority's 
expectations for us on the following day. We scarcely cared, tomorrow was a 
long way off. We accepted with thanks the pail of water, the two bags of 
indifferent food, and stood there as the whipping cart made its protesting 
way back to the town. Audry and I looked at each others and our weals, 
twisting and turning for a full view at what they had done to us, we were a 
colorful sights for anyone who liked colorful sights, that is the pink and 
red and scarlet of whip burns on maiden skin. We stood there in loneliness 
as dark descended upon the land, a pair of punished girls who could be sure 
of being punished tomorrow, too. But there was food. And there was each 
other, and if this should be our last night together.. . ? 

Audry and I made love beneath the stars. There is a cathedral quality about 
the night and the light of open places never entirely dark. This pair of 
naked shackled girl could barely see each other in the dim starlight, but 
that was enough. We could have made our love by touch only. 

I think that in our touching, our lapping of tongues, our excitement in that 
lonely field, Audry and I may have found all the happiness we could ever 
want. I suppose the whip marks on my skin had something to do with this, 
being whipped makes me terribly submissive. I just don't want to be whipped 
and I'll do anything to avoid it. But girls also easily forget and the 
fertile soil was hot beneath our backs as we took turns in the oldest 
position in the world. When Audry anxiously whispered in my ear that I would 
never be freed and would have to share her life-time slavery, I was almost 
in the mood to agree. It was a distinct possibility. I could well see how 
foolish Don Felipe must feel at parting with me. I know I am beautiful, I 
know I am seductive, I know I am better than good beneath a man. But, as I 
said before, we were only two girls chained to two great spheres of metal 
and condemned to labor with the coming of the dawn. 

Labor can be summed up in a single or it can be divided into the many facets 
by which man earns his bread. When Audry and I started to use the garden 
forks we discovered an entirely new dimension of effort. The first thing we 
discovered was the bareness of our feet, we had no shoes with which to push 
down on the tines. It was possible to do this with our bare feet but it 
hurt. We hadn't dug a bag full of potatoes before we got our breakfast. It 
was a girl who brought our food and water for the day. No doubt we were 
deemed harmless. Even had we chosen to overcome this visiting maiden, it 
would have served no purpose. We were securely anchored to this dirty field 
by those iron balls. To treat her unkindly would be folly. It was the old 
case of "not going anywhere." When she had gone we resumed our labors, 
tugging and rolling our iron appendages as needed, the range of our chain 
tether allowed only the digging of five or six hills of potatoes before 
moving on. The one certain thing the girl had told us was our allotment. It 
seemed an impossible number of bag full of potatoes, that early in the day 
it seemed for sure we could not possibly make it. But we had been whipped 
two nights running and wanted no more. We worked as best we could. By 
evening our passage across the field was marked by an array of a sufficient 
number of bags to absolve us of punishment, beside these bags was an even 
line most clearly marked where we had dragged our metal balls. The same girl 
brought us food and more water but no message for either of us. 

Alone for the night, Audry dismally predicted, "See what I told you, they're 
not going to let you loose, they're going to make you work here with me. Oh, 
darling, I'm so terribly sorry!" 

We slept in each other arms, satiated with work and with each other. But no 
matter how deep my slumber it was interspersed with a succession of dream 
images of slavery. 

Dinner was late on our second day with the potatoes, a day in which for the 
second time we evaded the whipping. This dinner was vastly different. Don 
Felipe had provided me with both a wardrobe and a maiden who skillfully made 
me something to be proud of. I wore my unaccustomed clothes with pride but 
an uncomfortable feeling of stuffiness. Don Felipe approved my choice of 
gowns, my owner did not. Quinlan made no bones about his preference for 
having me naked and somehow restrained. I was not restrained at all at 
dinner time and I gloried in an unaccustomed freedom of movement and speech. 
It appears that I was almost human and privileged to converse with the 
omnipotent males. This was heavy, heady stuff and I was a little drunk with 
it. Tomorrow we were going home. 

Don Felipe was in a playful mood but his questions were shrewd. "My estate 
here is the ideal situation for the enslavement of a girl, her slavery is 
real she will never have doubts of it." His eyes twinkled back and forth 
between us. "But with you it is so different. You seek to achieve the same 
results within a urban community in North America. I don't believe this 
possible. What part of it are you forced to simulate?" 

Quinlan and I had often asked ourselves the same question, answering it by 
affirming our dependence upon our moods. Fortunately these moods were always 
mutual and if they dictated I be ravished or put in a dungeon or taken out 
to dine, they were completely real. I had always borne the pleasure and the 
pain without thought of evading either. From the first Quinlan had made 
certain that whenever I was in anyway restrained there would be no hope 
whatsoever of my achieving escape through my own efforts. He was right, 
never once had I ever freed my hands or my feet or my neck from any 
restraint he had imposed. 

"But this going out to dine? It seems irrational for a girl to yield her 
freedom every time she is exposed to a civilized amenity. I suppose there 
were times where a return to the whip and the cord might be intolerable. 
Tell me about it, I'm most curious." 

We told him what we could of our life together but he exposed chinks in our 
amour with ruthless accuracy. "There are often times when Candice could run 
away or assert her independence or set herself up in a separate home and 
return to the job you tell me was discarded in her name. I would not dare 
trust one of my slaves thus, I will not trust your little Audry to so severe 
a test. But what of you?" 

"What about it, sweetheart," my owner demanded, not much caring. 

"It's easy," I told them flatly. "I'm in love with you. You'd have to keep 
me chained in the deepest dungeon if I weren't." I looked from one to the 
other. For the moment mistress of the situation. "And that's the simple 
truth of it. You men are ridiculous, you don't understand girls at all." 

I got a round of applause. They were delighted with me and I basked in their 
approval. It was a lovely feeling to have the attention of two distinguished 
men. And Quinlan and Don Felipe were nothing if not that. I thought of poor 
Audry somewhere on a chain, contemplating her labor of another day. 
Outrageously I asked Don Felipe, "Is there any use my asking you to set 
Audry free? I'm sure Quin would pay for her." 

"I didn't put Candice up to that," Quinlan informed our host instantly. "If 
you wish to whip Candice for impertinence, I will not complain." 

There is was! The steel hand beneath the velvet glove. These two men would 
happily accept from me all sort of mischief but always there would be a 
limit, always a demarcation between the freedoms I was granted by caprice 
and the slavery that held me in a permanent thralldom. I waited quivering. 

"I want no more of the whip for this delightful girl," the Don assured my 
master without hesitation. "She is a treasure and I envy you. But I will 
mold her successor to my heart's desire and to my will. Audry is young and I 
have plenty of time. The young absorb whip marks as the soil the dew. How do 
you propose to take your slavegirl home, Mr. Robins." 

"Please, Quin, not the needle," I pleaded instantly. "I'll wear the 
handcuffs or this collar around my neck or anything you like but please 
don't knock me out and put me in a box. I promise I won't complain about the 
way people stare." 

"I'll take her on the regular plane," said Quinlan with decision. "By the 
way, Don Felipe, could I enlist your aid in the matter of that riveted 
collar? Could I use your blacksmith for its removal?" 

"I don't want it removed, it's beautiful," I said without thinking. "I've 
gotten used to it, I don't notice it any more." 

"You see!" the Don was laughing at my master. "She is as I told you, the 
perfect woman. Oh, how I envy you!" 

"But I can't have her walking around in public with that thing around her 
neck! It's a bit much." 

"If she does not complain, why should you, Mr. Robins? I had that riveted 
around her neck for life." 

I should have shut up, my objection simply led to a decision I would wear my 
collar, perhaps forever! My flame burned strong beneath my clothes. I looked 
at Don Felipe Availdar. "You see, Don Felipe, this is one more case of my 
ability to escape but my failure to do so. I will go with my master where he 
wishes in public places were I could easily ask for help and find it. Or 
where I could easily go to the restroom and fail to return. But I will not 
do these things, I will return to my master as surely as if he held the end 
of a chain. I think some wise man once said a woman who truly loves will 
perform any act for the object of her adoration. I'm afraid that's true, it 
is for me." 

Farewells to Audry were forbidden. I was told they were would only disturb 
her and I expect that was true. Don Felipe drove Quinlan and I to the 
airport and the most civilized of leave-taking. There was a degree of 
respect between the three of us, especially since I choose to flaunt the 
collar around my neck for all to see. I cared less about it than did 
Quinlan, who was embarrassed about it. We said a difficult goodbye. The 
plane claimed us. 

"The first thing I'm going to do when I get home," I said snuggling closer 
to my love, "is to provoke you into whip me. I want us to get off to a good 
start." 

"Shut up, for Pete's sake! People will hear!" Quinlan was outraged. 

"So what!" I retorted. "If they don't like it, I'll tell them I do and it's 
good for my health." 

"You've had a drink too many." 

"I haven't had a drink at all and you know it. It's early morning. You only 
said that in case someone's listening." We were soon sparing delightedly in 
a return to a rapport none but us could understand. If those about us picked 
up threads of conversation, it mattered little. I was fully prepared to tell 
authority that I wore the collar around my neck to counter arthritis, should 
any uniform ask. The plane hummed happily and it was not until we were 
halfway home we both remembered Helen. 

"That son of a bitch, Lucio, sold her before I got on his tail," Quinlan 
said bitterly. "I couldn't trace hide or hair of her. Or of Audry either. It 
was only chance that we ran into Audry." He laughed with bitterness. "Not 
that it did the poor girl any good. She's had the course and that's the end 
to it. At least Don Felipe won't be cruel." 

"But he'd do'you know what' with her, won't he?" 

"That's a quaint way of describing a piece of tail, darling. But, yes, he 
will. I would, too, if I had her kicking around. She's a menace." 

Well, Quinlan and I were on the same wavelength about that. I was glad my 
master would not be continually subjected to temptation of Audry's parted 
thighs and ripe lips. Don Felipe could enjoy those to the full. I was 
beginning to feel that all was well in this best possible of all worlds. 
Abruptly I changed the subject. "But, darling, suppose when we get back I 
return to my old job. I'm sure they'd give it back to me." 

"Why?" 

"What Don Felipe said has stuck in my mind. I don't want there to be 
anything artificial between us." 

"okay then, sweetheart, if you want reality then you'll get it. I won't tell 
you how or why, but you'll get it. So if you find yourself chained in that 
dungeon you so often refer to, don't blame me." 

"That wasn't what I meant." 

"It's what I mean, sweetheart." 

"You're just exercising the male Derogative of demanding the woman stay home 
and cook his meals. Men don't want woman out and around, they want them 
right at home." I made my voice disdainful. "If that isn't imprisonment, 
then what is!" 

Quinlan eyed my quizzically. "There's no use us getting involved in that 
stuff, sweetheart. That's the old woman's lib thing. Neither of us can win 
when it comes to woman's lib. But I'll tell you this straight, if you want 
your job back and the physical freedom that goes with it, if you think some 
of what Don Felipe said makes sense, then the best thing for you to do is to 
enlist the aid of the first policeman you see and have him rescue you from 
the Big, Bad Wolf. Better than that, you don't need the policeman, I'll 
simply let you go. We'll kiss and you can be back on the job tomorrow 
morning." 

I was put back. I turned stricken eyes on the man who owned me. "You're 
messing it all up, Quin, honest you are. I don't want to be away from you. 
All I want is to avoid false situations which leave us uncertain of each 
other and cause others to jeer. OK, since you can't see it my way, make me a 
proper prisoner when we get home. I won't complain about whatever you do be 
it chains or straps or ropes or bars. Does that convince you I'm in love?" 

"Yes." 

We left it at that. 

ll 

Irons Unsought 

Damn it, it's working. San Beueno is a week away and I had never been 
happier. I thought I knew myself but I need Quinlan's hand in my affairs. 
Immediately we entered the penthouse Quinlan grabbed me and carried me, 
kicking and not knowing whether to laugh or protest, up to our bedroom. 
There he tossed me on the bed and, being utterly brutal against my now 
serious struggles to assert myself, stripped me naked to reveal the whip 
marks I had earned myself at the tail of Don Felipe's cart. This prelude to 
my new captivity cost us the lovely new dress Don Felipe had provided, it 
was torn to shreds by the man I loved. There was no pretense about his 
determination to subdue me or about my own equally strong determination to 
struggle. I suppose there are strange contradictions and compulsions in here 
somewhere I can not explain. But by bother! 

It was the iron collar of Don Felipe that signaled my first defeat. A 
padlocked snapped and there I was standing against our bedroom, tethered 
only by my neck, and glaring indignantly at the man I loved. 

"That's not fair," I accused. "You never told me, you never gave me a 
chance." 

"The results would have been the same, sweetheart." 

I did indeed know, and my fire was building nicely in the knowledge I was a 
prisoner in the possession of a man who owned me in more ways that one. I 
was vividly and expectantly alive. 

"Remember these?" Quinlan tossed the shining handcuffs and legirons at my 
feet. "Those bastards of Lucio's left them in the basement and I knew we'd 
need them sometime. Hold out your hands." 

There is something absolutely spine-tingling; "hold out your hands!" It 
always shivers me to bits. It is an order I always get when I'm too helpless 
to do anything else. There are times when I would like to hold out my hands 
to have them chained and there are times it's the last thing I desire. In 
this reassertion of Quinlan's authority over me the least I could do was be 
a little uncooperative. Defiantly I put my hands behind my back and leaned 
heavily against the wall. 

We stared, uncertain whether to act mad or to laugh. But Quin nodded 
thoughtfully and found a whip. Standing there naked and in full possession 
of hands and feet I felt that awful frustration that comes from being 
tethered only by my neck. I knew damned well why I was tethered that way. It 
was so I would have to offer my hands and feet for the old familiar chains. 
Quin was going to extract from me an act of submission to herald the new 
order. I knew I must not yield too easily. So, in mock heroics, I stuck out 
my tongue to invite something I did not in the least desire. I fielded the 
first two strokes with hands and arms, they hurt badly enough even at that. 
But the third cut the slope of my breast and the forth bit savagely across 
my hip. I knew my surrender was convincingly abject. 

"OK, OK! That's enough, I'll hold out my hands." 

This could have been Quinlan's cute to tell me blandly I had made a mistake 
and would pay for it with a certain number of strokes but neither of us was 
pushing it too far. This was a delicious game that was not a game at all. 
Pouting, I stuck out my hands to have them joined and almost burst at the 
seams with lust as the familiar clicks made the metal bands snug upon my 
wrists. 

"And now the legirons? If you kick you know what will happen." 

I did not kick. I held out first one leg and then the other in meek 
obedience. The clasp of chrome felt good. I was indeed back to square one 
with a vengeance! 

"So, OK, you've got me." I crinkled my nose at my lord and master. "You'd 
better make sure you keep me. If you give me half a chance I'll get loose 
and you won't easily get me back." 

Quinlan shrugged. "I guess you had to say that, sweetheart, get it off your 
chest. You've never got free from anything I've put you in before, I don't 
see why you think you'll manage it now. Hell, girl, you've asked for it, I'm 
going to be a real mean SOB." Quinlan kissed me and made me hobble under my 
own steam to our bed. It wasn't exactly a honeymoon but it might have been. 

After breakfast, which I had been compelled to prepare under the handicap of 
my lovely irons, we discussed to what degree I might enjoy the run of the 
penthouse as before. We conceded my chains would prevent me walking out the 
door, we dismissed the phone as being too impractical and too shockingly 
embarrassing for all concerned. 

"Should have got one of those ball and chain things from Felipe," Quinlan 
suggested thoughtfully. "Looks good and keeps you in your place." 

"I'm sure you could get one made for me somewhere in the city," I suggested 
demurely. "Or would you feel embarrassed?" 

"I'm contacting a contractor and having him build an addition to this 
penthouse. I own the building so that's no problem there. I'll have him make 
it of good, heavy stone and we can call it Cell With a View. You'll be able 
to look through the bars at freedom. Romantic enough for you?" 

I felt the familiar shiver. It was gorgeously romantic and I told Quin so. I 
could also imagine the new room the way he spoke of it. But he wasn't 
finished yet. 

"I'll have heavy, sliding panels for each window. They'll be on one side or 
other of the bars and be controlled from outside the dungeon door." 

"Dungeon?" 

"Sure, why not! When I press the button outside they'll close and shut out 
every particle of light. Or I'll have them so as to achieve gradations of 
gloom. How's that hit you?" 

"I don't like that one, Quin. Please, not the shutters?" 

"Well, we'll see about that, sweetheart. Anyway we'll have rings installed 
around the walls in the granite and maybe a few in the floor. I'll arrange 
things to come down from above, electrically. You ought to be flattered at 
all this expense I'll willing to go to on your behalf." 

"It's not on my behalf, it's on yours. You'll love being able to hold it 
over my head," I said. "How soon can they have it ready?" 

We laughed together, it was a very happy time. Before he went to his damned 
office, Quin announced an innovation. I knew approximately when he'd be home 
and the instruction was that prior to that time, and so he would behold me 
first thing on his return, I was to snap a padlock on myself in such a way 
as to hold a hand or both hands above my head, or to use my collar and 
fasten it so I must stand to await his pleasure. It was a delightful conceit 
but I did not tell him so. 

"But suppose you get run over or have to leave town or something.. . ? " I 
inquired doubtfully. 

"In that case you'll have a long wait, won't you, darling?" 

Life was wonderful. 

I spent a housewifely sort of day clinking around in my irons. I spent an 
hour searching around for the key. It was something to do but the key was 
not to be found. So I went to domestic tasks and thought about how the devil 
I was to fix myself for my master's pleasure come five o'clock. I looked 
around the hallway, that being the place he would see me on entering, and 
sure enough there were rings aplenty. I had to choice between locking my 
already handcuffed wrists above my head or padlocking my collar to force me 
to stand erect. I decided upon a ring which would hold my hands just above 
my head without stretching. There was no use imposing discomfort upon 
myself, there was no telling about Quin's humor. I wouldn't have put it past 
him to delay homecoming an hour just for the hell of it. 

Masters have things good! 

It was a good simple little conceit of Quin's but I prepared for it with 
care and caution. Once I had snapped the padlock I would be there to stay so 
I had best leave nothing to boil over on the stove or burn in the oven. 
There was also the unknown factor of precise time. Quin could either be late 
or early. And, if he was early and I was not chained for his approval, I 
would certainly be punished. I had had enough of punishments with Don Felipe 
so decided I had best lock myself in position at four-thirty. If that meant 
I had to stand a long while in anxious waiting, well, that was the name of 
the game. It would be just like Quin to come home real early and catch me 
napping. I began to realize there was more to this return of the warrior 
that at first supposed. It would get to be a real pain in the neck, although 
at the moment all it was doing was fueling my fire. I found the bit of chain 
and the padlock, I threaded the links through the ring and left it hanging 
on the wall, ready for me. It looked shockingly sinister and sent another 
shiver down my spine. It was a gorgeous shiver, I wish there were more of 
them. 

I puttered happily, knowing the man I loved held the key to the hobbles on 
my feet. Hobbles are beautifully heat-generating, they remind a girl at 
every step of what she has become. Each snub on my ankle was like a voice 
whispering, "So far but no further." I thought of all the criminals who must 
have been legironed in the past centuries and I wondered if any of them had, 
in desperation, made a dash for it and fallen on their face. They limited me 
far more than the handcuffs on my wrists, although if the cuffs had been on 
my hands behind my back, that would have evened things up. 

In the penthouse quiet I thought a lot of Don Felipe, the events of his 
possession of my body were vivid in my mind. Frequently I posed in front of 
the big mirror to admire the marks on my back and the weals on my bottom. It 
was hard to believe they were so new and would not be gone for two or three 
weeks. It was as though Don Felipe was out there waiting! 

I was bothered about Audry. I could picture the darling nymphet chained 
somewhere beside a fearsome task and whipped each evening to subdue her 
impertinence or spur her work. It hurts about the same either way. 

My next thoughts were of Helen. Audry's condition in life might be dire by 
American standards but Helen's could be infinitely worse. She could be in a 
brothel or owned by some brute who beat and ravished her alternately. 
Somehow I just couldn't believe a man who bid in the girl auction could 
possibly treat the purchase with affection. Quinlan had told me he was 
continuing the search for clues as to her whereabouts. But supposing we 
located her, what could we do? Even Quinlan could not declare war on a 
banana republic or a sheikdom. I had always associated those places with 
slavery. Which is silly when you think of it because her I am in the good, 
old USA and as much a slave as you could care for. 

At four-thirty I went to do my penitence in the hall. I had made a 
ridiculous round of the penthouse to make sure everything was in good order 
and there wasn't anything to worry about while I stood helpless under my own 
duress. I'd admit I got the maximum possible thrills out of the whole 
exercise. I stood looking up at the chain which would soon hold me and the 
padlock which would mock my efforts to escape. They were there, they waited 
as though daring me to take the final step. I dashed to a mirror to make 
sure my hair was in order and my makeup in place. I even smoothed my pubic 
bush to assure its sheen. Then, as though fearing to change my mind I went 
swiftly to the wall, raised my hands, slipped the waiting chain around the 
links by which my wrists were joined, then snapped the lock shut with a 
decisive purpose. I was a prisoner. 

As usual, I suddenly needed to scratch my nose. I defeated this absurdity by 
turning around and rubbing it against the wall. The distinct advantage about 
the way I had locked myself was this ability to face either the wall or the 
hall. The wall was an uninteresting view and need be faced only if Quin 
desired to whip me. My inch relieved, I turned around and leaned my back 
against the solid surface. I tugged at my fastened hands to make sure they 
would not betray me by getting loose at the last moment. But the were as 
firm as the Golden Gate Bridge. I sighed happily and settled back to wait. 

It was not the easiest possible position for waiting, it kept me alert and 
awake and thinking of all the things I should have done or didn't do or 
wanted to do. It was silly, I had been in similar states of helplessness 
before but now, because I had clicked the padlock shut on myself, I was heir 
to a hundred alarms. I contented myself with a speculation as to how 
beautiful I might appear in this, my first penitence. I even debated whether 
I should turn and face the wall and thus offer a more innocent but vividly 
marked area of bare skin. I decided the goodies were mostly in the front so 
that's what I put forward, sticking out my breasts for a nice effect and 
hoped I wouldn't get too tired to keep them in arrogant protrusion. 

If this were fiction, if would be about this time the villain would walk in 
and whisk me away from under my master's nose, or maybe one of his girl 
friends would show up unexpectedly and amuse herself by whipping me. There 
were all sorts of possibilities to keep my fire weHfueled and at fever heat. 
It was a good thing I could not reach my pussy for relief. Nothing happened. 
Quinlan came home punctually at five-thirty. He kissed me warmly, 
complimented me on my choice of posture, then went on into our penthouse and 
left me standing. 

A girl who is loved must expect to be teased, we don't always like it but 
put up with it on that basis. I wanted to mix Quinlan's drink and share one 
with him. I was prepared to do the most delightfully submissive kneel. I 
was, in fact, a well trained slavegirl anxious to demonstrate prowess in an 
ancient art. 

Quin prolonged the agony by dropping in from time to time to seemingly 
search for something on the hall stand, affecting not to notice the naked, 
chained beauty on the wall. After being ignored three times I said, with 
acid in my voice, "I hope you're enjoying yourself. I think you're mean." 

He leaned against the wall with hands to either side of me and kissed me 
hard upon the lips. I kissed him back but was helpless to hold him, I had no 
arms. I had started something and had to finish it. "I'd be very grateful, 
Quin, if you would unlock me. I did everything right, didn't I?" 

"Indeed you did, beloved child. Can't you guess. I'm simply being mean by 
ignoring you. You expect to be released immediately upon my coming through 
the door, so I ignore you and simply go about my work, leaving you in that 
delightful pose you chose for yourself. I commend you highly." He kissed me 
again but added, "No matter how I adore you I don't have to set you free. 
You can stand a while and stew." 

Outraged. I watched him go, then tugged at my locked hands in fury. A tease 
was a tease, but this was going a bit far. I wasn't even being punished, he 
was just having fun and at my expense. Females get awful cheesed off about 
things like this and I was in the midst of composing some bitter sentences 
and curses when he walked back in and, without a single word, unlocked the 
padlock, picked me up, and carried me to the lounge. Standing me on my feet 
he said the single word, "Drinks." 

Everything was suddenly wonderful. I could kick myself about this but it's 
true. I suppose it's part of being in love with a guy but the more he 
outrages you the more submissive you become. I mixed our drinks and 
carefully carried them to serve on my knees. I then knelt before him to sip 
my own and to gaze up at him in adoration. What the hell more can a girl do! 

I was happy. 

I was still handcuffed and legironed. I was willing to believe these would 
be a permanent part of me for now on with the possible variation of putting 
my hands behind me when I've been a bad girl. I listened, more or less 
breathlessly, to the chronicle of my master's day. I understood only a 
little of it but got a comforting impression of millions of dollars passing 
back and forth and some percentage of each clinching to Quinlan's 
outstretched palm. It was a fanciful fiction, probably not all that far from 
being true. Towards the end of it, without warning, he said, "I've purchased 
a title, a small holding that belonged to Luke and Gertie. Luke's in jail 
along with Lucio and the rest of them. But I sort of got Gertie along with 
the rest of it. You'll be interested to know she's in the dog cage now." 

I stared, thinking he was kidding, but he was not. He was deadly serious, 
looking down at me in amusement. Without warning we were both giggling 
together at a single thought. Gertie in the cage was just too much to keep a 
straight face over. Breathlessly I asked, "But how.. . ? " 

"Well, she didn't exactly appear on the title deed, sweetheart, but she was 
present when the deal was finalized and I had no trouble having her picked 
up and locked safely away. I got a guard, a fellow who I trust and his wife, 
looking after the place now and giving Gertie regular meals through the 
wire. Did I mention, she is very much sans clothes. She is now the same way 
she had you." 

"But, Quin darling, you can't possibly.. . ? " 

"Yes, I can. No trick at all. Gertie has lived on the wrong side of the law 
too long and no one will be rescue her nor will she try to rescue herself. 
Wonderful chance for you to get you own back." 

"But, Quin, Gertie was never cruel to me. I sort of like Gertie." 

"OK, then, so she wasn't cruel. We won't be cruel either. She'll just have 
to stay in the cage the same way Luke is staying behind bars in the state 
prison. If he ever gets out we may let her go, too. In the meantime she's 
being well fed from the couple in charge. What say we drive out and you can 
feed her peanuts through the mesh?" 

I did some more giggling. It was just too, too delicious. I forgot my peeve 
in this new diversion. Quin was still thinking aloud, "I suppose we don't 
have to keep her in the dog cage forever. We could bring her here for a 
change. You would like to whip her bottom, wouldn't you?" 

I am still ashamed at the wave of hot desire which flooded over me at this 
suggestion. Gertie's flesh was undoubtedly well designed for the rod. I 
suspected Gertie was a woman who would take her beating philosophically as 
part of the price of being a woman. I could just bet the first few strokes 
would make her horny as hell, in fact, what a glorious adventure it would be 
to explore Gertie. Her reactions would never be dull! Eyes sparkling, I 
asked, "Are you giving Gertie to me as a gift, a gift to play with?" 

"Sure, under supervision, I don't want you letting her get free. But first 
off we'll visit her in the cage. She should be right at home about now." 

As a topic of conversation Gertie lasted us through dinner then I tucked her 
away in the back of my mind as a treasure for future enjoyment. In bed, and 
firmly within my master's arms, and after our first explosive lust, I 
whispered in his ear, "What about Audry, Quin? I can't forget Audry." 

"You have to forget her, precious child, you know you do." 

"But it seems so unkind, all the awful things she's going through." 

"They won't last long, she'll soon be in Don Felipe's bed. and that was what 
she wanted, wasn't it?" 

It was true. Even when she was being whipped with Don Felipe's whip she had 
expressed that wish above all others. His aristocratic charm and wealth had 
fascinated her but. apart from that, it wasn't much of a life for a girl of 
her age. I forgot realities to once more whisper, "But to be a slave.. . All 
the rest of her life?" 

"What's the difference between that and you. Gosh, Candice, you just entered 
an enslavement far more severe than that little nymphet will ever have to 
endure." 

I was about to say that she and I were different but then I realized we were 
not different at all. We wore the same chains and were bound with the same 
rope and whipped with the same whip. Don Felipe would ravish Audry just as 
Quinlan ravished me or if the Don was a bit old I am sure the two of them 
could find adequate substitute with a "blow job." Still trying, I whispered 
again, "But she's so young, probably too young...." 

My master bit both my ears hard. I liked getting my ears nipped by a male 
but this was hard enough to hurt. I liked that, too! 

"I'll tell you what, sweetness, I'll keep in touch with things over in San 
Beueno. The Don and I have some mutual interests so it won't seem like 
prying into his affairs. If I get any hint he's tiring of your little 
nymphet, I'll make him an offer of her and give her to your for your 
birthday. Damn it, Candice, we're going to have more pussy hair around 
here.. . . " 

"Oh, darling, would you? For me? I adore you!" 

"The vast discrepancy in their ages is a hope, my pet," Quinlan mused 
thoughtfully. "On the other hand, quite often these old men really fall in 
love with a teenager. And, if that happens, I wouldn't put it past the old 
boy to marry the girl. Damn it, Candice, stop worrying about the little 
so-and-so, she can handle herself. And I have a suspicion she'll have things 
damned good on Don Felipe's estate." 

"But, Quin, that awful training.. . ? " 

"It will do her good, it did you good. Don Felipe has the right idea about 
females. A month of hard labor and a month of whippings will mold that 
delicious little teenager into any man's heart's desire. Stop worrying." 

I stopped worrying. 

The next day Quin reminded me to be in the desired position at five. I 
assured him I would be and that he had nothing to fear. Casually, and with a 
twinkle in his eye, he said that he was afraid I would be bored and with 
that in mind he brought home with him in his briefcase a small purchase. I 
was instantly alarmed. Small purchases of this sort are almost always 
certain to hurt. I was envisioning sharp clips for my nipples or a giant 
dildo when the briefcase opened to reveal Quinlan's surprise. It was a gag. 
I didn't recognize it at first but when he held it up for my inspection, its 
intent was all too clear. There was a wicked looking rubber wad for inside 
my mouth but lovely, soft leather to seal my lips. I was still alarmed. 
"That looks a bit odd," I said, "back where you bucket it." 

"It's simply, my poppet. This is no ordinary gag. This one locks." 

"Oh, Quin, you're not going to lock that over my mouth for all day, are you? 
Jeepers...!" 

I was made to drink a lot of water because I wouldn't be getting any from 
then on. I was very ardently kissed before the rubber wad was inserted and 
jiggled into place until I knew for sure I'd hate the damned thing before 
evening. Then came the supple leather over my lips, lips I had been 
instructed to clench tight. After that the most deadly thing of all, the 
ensemble was buckled tight behind my neck and, after the straps were 
adjusted to my master's satisfaction, there came the ominous snap of the 
lock. I could feel its weight and, if I shook my head, it made tinkling 
sounds in contact with the iron collar I was still forced to wear. Quinlan 
patted my bottom, tweaked one of my nipples, and went away to make a few 
more millions. 

The first thing I did was find a mirror. I suppose this was typically 
feminine and I can't pretend to be displeased with what I saw. If a girl had 
to be gagged she had best be gagged as I was now. The effect was not as 
displeasing as it might have been. I turned from side to side, shook my 
head, and tried to speak. I even tried to scream. The only sounds I could 
make were unintelligible snortings through my nose. The whole damn think was 
particularly punitive because there was no one in the penthouse to talk to 
anyway. I wondered if I dared phone Quin at his office and make snorting 
sounds he would probably recognized. But all I'd get would be his secretary 
and she wouldn't be in the know. It is truthful to say that I went about my 
affairs without a another word. 

By four-thirty I had become accustomed to my new companion. The rubber wad 
in my mouth was kinder that a dry rag or a ball. I could live with it. I 
wondered how long I'd have to! If I could have chained the damn thing to a 
ring someway, I would have done so. But, as a variation from yesterday, I 
chose to chain my neck to a ring at exactly its own level. I wouldn't enjoy 
it much, not standing the way it compelled, but felt sure I should seek a 
variety and wondered how many ways I could contrive if this notion went on 
and on. There are an awful lot of four-thirties in twelve months. 

It is a sobering experience for a girl to have her neck padlocked to a ring 
behind her neck. I had reduced my travail by finding several links of chain 
to give me the freedom of movement I would need to shift from foot to foot 
to ease the boredom of waiting. I figured these few inches of links would 
not give Quinlan cause to criticize my choice of what I now thought of as 
the "waiting penitence." 

Clicking the first padlock to the chain and the ring was easy. I stood and 
regarded it for several moments before turning around and fumbling with 
cuffed hands to insert the second padlock through the link of chain and the 
ring in my collar. It wasn't all that easy but I was finally rewarded by a 
loud snap and knew for sure I'd had the course. I stood rigidly through the 
moment of panic which comes when a girl wonders if she has made a terrible 
mistake. But I fought it down and leaned back against he wall to await the 
return the head of the house. At least I had my joined hands. 

A chained girl has time to think. I allowed my mind to rove and inevitably 
returned to the subject of Quinlan and me and just how real this game we 
played truly was. Certainly my present condition was real enough but 
self-contrived. I entered the penthouse of my own free will. True, once I 
delivered myself to the chains I then had no choice. But there remained the 
nagging thought of picking up the telephone and calling for help. Yet I knew 
I would not do this, there would be no point in it. But I had to ask myself 
to what degree these possibilities of escape mocked the validity of my 
imprisonment. After going around in circles a few times I simply shrugged it 
off with the conclusion my fears of something artfully contrived arouse 
simply from my love for Quin and whatever emotion he felt for me. I was 
different from other kidnapped girls in that they hated it and I loved the 
clutch of steel around my limbs. I wondered how many girls there were like 
me! 

I was almost enjoying this brief captivity. But then my thoughts turned to 
Gertie out there in her cage in the country. The validity of her captivity 
could be questioned, too. It was made possible only because of her being on 
the wrong side of the law. She was no doubt consoling herself with the 
thought of the heavy wire mesh circling her was better than the iron bars 
and concrete circling Luke. I wondered what on earth I would do with her if 
Quinlan brought her here and presented her as a naked, chained gift to his 
mistress. She would probably be highly indignant and, considering her 
muscles, would have to be kept well ironed. I would never dare trust rope on 
Gertie. What was more, I knew I did not have whatever it took to whip her 
into submission. In my custody Gertie was-likely to remain very much Gertie. 

Next came Audry, she was never far from my thoughts. I suppose being whipped 
at the cart's tail with another naked, bound girl at my side forms a bond. I 
could look back now at the days with the potatoes and the water system with 
nostalgia. There is something about hard labor a girl does not easily 
forget. Don Felipe had been right in his assessment of its effect upon the 
female psyche. Just as a raped girl feels herself isolated and apart, so 
might the tiny minority of females who were force to labor in the fields and 
drag an iron ball from a shackled ankle. We were a small sisterhood, forever 
looking with scorn on those who had not thus toiled. 

It was about this moment I wondered what the time was. 

I kicked myself for not leaving a clock around where I could see. I well 
knew the deceptiveness of isolation in chains. Time is your enemy and you 
cannot even see it. By the time I had worked myself into a fine dither, I 
knew it was well after five o'clock. When I heard the phone ringing in 
another room, I knew damned well it was Quinlan. But I could not answer it 
and Quin would know the reason. It was a beastly feeling of frustration 
which caused me to laugh bitterly at my fears about my captivity being 
valid. How the hell could it be more valid than this! Anyway I sweated and 
stewed for what turned out to be nearly an hour before I heard Quin's key 
turn in the lock. It was a good, good sound. Quinlan nodded with approval at 
the way I had fixed myself. He tilted my chin and I got gorgeously kissed. 
When I came up for air I tried to keep the accusation out of my voice, 
"You're late." 

Quin nodded in an absent-minded sort of way and produced the holy key by 
which I might gain freedom. He actually used it without even the smallest 
tease. "I sure am," he admitted soberly. "I got a phone call. In fact I got 
several." He kissed me again and, drawing me from the wall, held me close 
for satisfying moments during which my curiosity grew without enthusiasm he 
broke the news, "My boys have discovered where Helen is." 

The time I had spent as Helen's prisoner had simply got us acquainted, it 
had not developed into a love affair. But it was good news anyway you looked 
at it, so I mused, "Darling, how marvelous! Where is she?" 

"She's just being delivered to that damned slave trading place where we 
found Audry. She missed Audry there by less than a week. First thing I did 
was phone Don Felipe. But all he's prepared to do is be sure she'll be held 
as a slave awaiting sale until one of us gets there." My master's laugh was 
sardonic. "He says he doesn't want to own a mother and daughter, it never 
works. He would prefer we dealt with Helen ourselves. These damned old 
aristocrats have got damned stupid ideas. They're back in feudal times." 

"Oh, Quin, you mean you and I have to go and collect her?" 

Quin did not answer immediately. After a few seconds he said, "How about I 
chain you and we go out to supper. I'm a bit cheesed off, I need bright 
lights and chatter." 

What girl was going to refuse that! I held out my hands and then I held out 
my feet. In a few moments I was a free girl. I used the freedom to throw my 
arms around Quinlan's neck and thrust my pubic patch at him hard. For a 
moment I absolutely forgot about Helen as I dashed upstairs to make myself 
beautiful for my lord and master. Looking at myself in the mirror I could 
now wish the iron collar had been taken from my neck, but I did the best I 
could with it. It was not until we were settled at our favorite table and 
the waiter had pretended not to notice my iron collar that Quin returned to 
Helen. He made it short and sweet. 

"Sweetheart, this couldn't have come at a worse time. I can't possibly leave 
town. There's so many deals hanging fire and there's a few hundred million 
dollars involved." He shrugged. "If San Beueno was a truly civilized place I 
could handle the thing over the wire. But not the way it is. Yet I can't let 
Helen down. Oh, shit.. . ! 

"Don't worry, Quin darling, I'll go." 

I had said the asinine words without thinking. I was remembering San Beueno 
as its airport, its one big city, and Don Felipe's hospitality. My 
recollection of the slave market was tinged with curiosity about a relic 
from the past. Audry had gone in and out of it without a single whip mark. 
Quinlan's face was study. 

"Candice, don't be silly. That's no place for a pretty girl." 

"Call me a pretty woman, then. I wouldn't have to do much, would I? Just 
give the slave trader you check or whatever and bring Helen home. If Don 
Felipe doesn't want Helen, I'm sure we can get along without him. And I 
think it best not to tell Helen about Audry until we get back here. If I did 
tell her, I can see her getting me into trouble." 

Quinlan had listened with a heavily raised eyebrow. His retort was instant, 
"Candice, grow up!" He gazed at me searchingly. "Would you really do that." 

From then on it was easy. I don't know what fool impulse was prompting me. 
But if it had been Audry I would have gone like a shot so why not for 
Audry's mother? After all she had never been cruel to me. San Beueno was not 
that uncivilized that I would be anything but safe under the protection of 
Quinlan Robins and Don Felipe. I saw it only as a three day trip there and 
back and wondered mischievously if Helen would be subdued enough for me to 
bring her home in handcuffs. I tingled at the idea and immediately saw other 
vistas of pleasure with a mature woman who, for a little while, would be 
entirely in my power. I looked at my master earnestly and pleaded, "Darling, 
please make the arrangements right away. I can be there and back in no time. 
If I'm being presumptuous, you can whip me on my return. How's that for a 
deal?" 

"Why not before and after?" 

Quin was entering into the spirit of the adventure. It took most of dinner 
for me to get him talked into letting me go. But I actually managed it and 
when he took me home he didn't even whip me or anything a slavegirl might 
expect other than to take me to bed and love me so savagely that I might 
have been leaving him for a year. 

I had sobered up a bit by the time I was kissed goodbye and was on the 
plane. I could not fail to remember my first trip, drugged and bound and 
naked. This was delightful. I could even have cocktails. An occasional hard 
stare from a passenger reminded me of the metal circlet around my neck. 
Somehow there hadn't been time to get it off and. in any case I had become 
sort of attached to it. Or would it be better to say it had become attached 
to me! 

The hotel was reassuringly ordinary as was the car and driver provided me 
the following morning. With his broken English and my broken Spanish we 
discussed the scenery. He raised only the slightest eyebrow at the sight of 
my collar. 

There were no open gates and I did not get the run of the place but it 
looked just the same, a grim relic of other days without hint of the naked 
girls chained within. I told myself defiantly I could not possibly be 
mistaken for a recruit or an addition to their inventory. I had made a point 
of being exceedingly smartly attired. The iron band around my throat was the 
only fault to note. There could be no doubt this grim stone pile would 
recognize it for what it was. 

With courtesy and ceremony I was escorted to the office of the Commandant. 
like the hotel, it was very ordinary and reassuring. The Commandant himself 
was a paunchy man who could have used some exercise. But he greeted me 
politely, ordered coffee, and graciously offered me a seat. He also 
graciously accepted Quinlan's check. I was not a bit sure if he was in the 
army or a private citizen. Maybe the uniform was to impress the girls. His 
attention left me flattered and I sat down opposite him and sipped my coffee 
in a glow of the satisfaction and magic of Quinlan's money and Quinlan's 
name. 

"The woman named Helen, Miss Cosgrove," the Commandant eyed Quinlan's check, 
"we will have her made ready for you. I presume she will cause you no 
trouble? There will be no need of restraints?" 

"She ought to be overjoyed." 

"Ah.. . Yes, of course." The Commandant sighed. "She was sold to us very 
cheaply by a man who had been far from kind. You will discover she is well 
whip-marked." He shrugged to show what a really small matter that was but 
added, "She was not whipped here. We do not whip our girls if we can 
possibly avoid it. Only the most rebellious...." 

It was not until the Commandant and I had talked for five minutes over two 
cups of coffee, I realized he had been asking all the questions and I had 
been giving all the answers. But then, I could understand his curiosity 
about a woman performing a task such as I was, San Beueno was not a woman's 
land. In an almost somnolent voice he inquired, "Has it ever occurred to 
you, Miss Cosgrove, how very easily a girl may disappear?" He smiled 
engagingly, "For instance, you?" 

My heart skipped, my pulse raced and my beloved penthouse was suddenly far 
away. 

"I suppose every girl considers that possibility," I agreed crisply, in a 
business-like tone. "But I'm afraid I do not belong to the class of young 
woman who makes herself vulnerable." 

"An educated young woman of good breeding fetches a large price. Miss 
Cosgrove." 

This was too close to home. I shot him a swift glance but he was still 
smiling, his voice the purr of a tiger. "The man who drove you here-likes 
cash. For a small sum he could forget anything. When you left your hotel 
this morning, you disappeared." 

"So what! Perhaps I should phone Don Felipe?" 

"I regret our phones are out of order. In any case Don Felipe has requested 
that there be no contact. He has recently purchased a young woman who's 
conduct might be affected." 

I was now well and truly alarmed. The battle lines were drawn. With 
uttermost hauteur I complained, "I'm not sure I know what you're talking 
about. I find the subject offensive." 

"You are the subject, Miss Cosgrove." 

I got up as though to leave but instantly a male figure blocked the doorway. 
I turned angrily to the Commandant but he was way ahead of me, his voice 
rich with satisfaction. 

"Welcome to slavery, Miss Cosgrove." 

12 

Slave 

It is the tiniest of cells, but with the heaviest of bars. I was told I was 
in here alone to "cool off." If the climate was other than San Beueno's the 
cool off might have been easy for I no longer had my clothes. I had also 
lost the use of my hands and arms and the cords circling my wrists are twice 
as tight as need be. I stood panting and indignant and terribly scared as I 
watched my jailer disappear. The door would have held a dozen elephants. I 
didn't even try it. 

That rotten, son of a bitch of a Commandant won every move. "Be kind enough 
to remove your clothes, Miss Cosgrove. You will have no further need of 
them." 

I ignored his unctuous politeness, but looked from one to the other in 
dismay, cursing myself for every kind of a fool. I didn't have much weaponry 
but I used what I had. "What Don Felipe hears of this...." 

"Don Felipe will not be bothered with such trifles, Miss Cosgrove. At least 
not yet." 

I could tell the Commandant was enjoying himself immensely. "Very well then, 
but you forget Mr. Robins. He'll have the consulate and your authorities 
around your neck in no time." 

"You don't know San Beueno. You will have left the hotel this morning and 
disappeared. Everyone will apologize profusely." He gave me full benefit of 
his oily grin. "In about a month, when you are forgotten, we here will send 
a card of condolence." 

The bastards, the rotten bastards, they had me! I couldn't pick a flaw in 
the Commandant's reasoning. Again his voice dripped with honey, "Your 
clothes, Miss Cosgrove. Or would you prefer my man...." 

I've been naked a lot but never wanted it less than now. Both these crooks 
were eying me in pleasurable anticipation. I would have thought that with 
all the naked girls they traded in, one more or less would not have made 
much difference. But I was white, I suppose it made a difference. As 
forcefully as I could I said, "I'm not doing a striptease for you or anyone 
else. You must be crazy to get yourself into trouble over me. I'm not worth 
anywhere near what it will cost you in grief." 

"Undress, Miss Cosgrove." There was now a touch of steel in the oily voice. 
"We are waiting." 

From somewhere, presumably down the passage, the man in the doorway produced 
the most awful looking whip I've ever seen. It was a knout or a sjambok, or 
something of that sort. The Commandant's voice followed my gaze. 

"You may undress of your own free will. Miss Cosgrove. Or, if you force us 
to do the job for you, you will then receive ten strokes on your bare skin 
with that delightful whip you are looking at." 

I undressed. What the hell else could I do? 

They watched me like hawks. It was a beastly ordeal but I told myself not to 
make a big thing of it. I'd spent most of my recent life naked so what the 
hell was the big deal? What I was really mad about was the way Quinlan had 
been tricked. He should have known better and so should I. When I came down 
to bra and panties I wiped away a tear or two before showing them my 
treasures. Good gosh, the way men desire us makes me sick! 

"You would prefer to strip for Mr. Robins, no doubt?" 

"Yes, I would! I'm not a floosie. I hope you're satisfied. Take a good look 
at me." 

They did just that. And took their time. I kept my hands from trying to 
shield bits of me but stood there thrusting my nudity at them as though in 
challenge. They accepted it. After a wave of the Commandant's careless hand, 
his helper bound my wrists behind my back. It was such a familiar 
helplessness I wanted to scream. 

Being naked didn't bother me all that much. I'd been naked more often than 
clothed in all the time since Quinlan had first come into possession of me. 
What I did hate was the helper's hand grasping my hair and using it to lead 
me to the tiny cell were I was suppose to "cool off." I shook my head 
angrily but I had had the treatment, there was absolutely nothing I could 
do. 

I paced the confines of my tiny cage. I was cooling off, all right, but it 
was the cold clutch of fear. This slave market worked with a cool precision 
with which I could not cope. I filled the hour or so in which I was left 
alone by working against the cords around my wrists. They mocked my efforts 
and, when the jailer reappeared, I was in no mood for his genial, "Now I 
fuck you. Lay down on bench." 

I did not hesitate. I kicked as hard as I could and connected my heel 
brutely within his groin. He want through the male motions associated with 
such successful kicks but I had not got more than half way down the passage 
when he caught up with me and dragged me back. I fully expected a brutal 
ravishment but I must have hurt his pride or something, for instead he 
raised my arms high behind my back and inserted the bindings between my 
wrists into a waiting hook suspended from above. It was a motion easily 
achieved in the space of seconds but it left me bent over with racked 
shoulders and stretched arms. I gasped with the pain, the humiliation, and a 
fresh realization of being in for a bad time. He went out and slammed the 
door. 

I wept in solemn fury at my stupidity. I also realized what a wonderful way 
this was to punish a girl about to be sold, it would leave no marks and an 
hour of it would leave me in deep distress. A day of it would have me 
hanging senseless. I watched my tears splash on the concrete below, the 
space of floor filling my view. By the time the Commandant opened the door 
to survey my misery with pleasure, I was a very humble girl. If he, too, had 
announce his intention to rape me I would not have said "Boo." But he was 
nothing if not a conversationalist. 

"You have enjoyed the benefits of quiet reflection. Miss Cosgrove?" 

I didn't dare say what I wanted to. All I could come up with was, "Yes, 
thank you." I was taking no chances. 

"Ah!" He made it sound a small cry of triumph, a confirmation of the 
lightness of things. "I was sure you would be sensible. May I expect the 
same degree of judgment between now and the time of your sale?" 

"Yes. I'll do what I'm told." 

"I am about to place you among the others who will be sold at the same 
time." The Commandant's eyes were busily drinking in all the unusual strains 
and stress on and of my body in that semi-torture. "May I hope you will 
refrain from, you American's have a word for it, inciting to riot? Or was 
that a carry over from the British. It does not matter." 

"I promise I will not plot escape. I'll be a good girl." Gosh, how humble 
could I get? 

"Among the group awaiting sale you will enjoy the company of the woman you 
call Helen. I am sure you'll have much to talk about." 

"Thank you, that will be nice." 

I was laying it on thick but, if I was to do it at all, I might as well do 
it right. It was not until that moment that I realized the obvious. "Sir, if 
you would contact Mr. Robins he would purchase both Helen and me. Wouldn't 
that be the easiest?" 

"You're thinking of the matter in terms of ransom?" 

"Please don't be offended, Sir. Either way, Quinlan will certainly buy me 
back." 

"I am sure he would, Miss Cosgrove. Your friend, Helen, has given me the 
same assurance. But such disposal of your lovely bodies does not conform to 
the plans of this house. We have regular cliental, it would be unfair to 
them to sell to anyone else our most choice merchandise." He sighed as 
though in grief. "You will be retained to look after our home market. While 
I am not attracted to your white skin, there are those for whom it holds 
enchantment." 

This polite interchange while I hung with stretched arms and pained 
shoulders was a farce. But it informed me of my fate and Helen's, too. I 
wondered what life in a harem would be like. "Do you know who will buy me, 
Sir? These matters are often prearranged, are they not?" 

"It would be only a guess, Miss Cosgrove. But it narrows down to two or 
three extremely wealthy men. But only one of them is what you'd in American 
call 'whip happy.' The other two will punish you only when you pout." 

Well, that was that. Quinlan was receding fast, so was the twentieth 
century. I approached what, at the moment, was my first concern. "Could I be 
untied, Sir? I promise not to give you any trouble?" 

"Yes, of course," the Commandant purred slowly. "But you are all together 
too delicious. You must forgive an urge I cannot contain." He went back out 
into the passage but returned quite soon with a long and limber yellow cane. 
"The strokes will be few. Let us both enjoy them." 

The Commandant hit me four times. I suppose that comes within the context of 
"few." I just had to stand there and take them. I was bent beautifully to 
enable him to cut away at my exposed bottom. By this time the rest of me was 
hurting so bad I didn't want to move. And what good would it have done me 
anyway? The pain from his beastly yellow thing was unbearable, if he had 
been giving me a greater number I would have screamed all the way through. A 
cane used on girl's flesh is cruel. As though to cement our acquaintance he 
used the cane to rap my legs wide apart, then swiftly cut upwards into my 
pussy. I screamed for that one. I was still sobbing in agony when he raised 
my arms in a way I could not do myself to lift then from the hook. When he 
let my tied hands return to normal, that hurt, too. Dully I wondered if I 
would have been better off to let the jailer have his will with me and to 
say a polite thank you afterwards. Such thoughts are futile. A slavegirl can 
never win. 

Once more a handful of my hair was used to guide me through a labyrinth of 
passages and rooms. When the final door, requiring a massive key, was 
unlocked and thrown open I beheld a large stone room, a round the walls of 
which stood or reclined young, naked women in various poses of bored 
dejection. Each was fastened to the wall by a chain connecting with some 
part of her person, an ankle, a wrist, her neck, or in one case, her waist. 

"It is to prevent them from laying in wait for the girl who tends their 
needs." The Commandant's soft voice read my thoughts. You will notice the 
space beside Helen has a vacant chain." 

It was not vacant long. I was marched across the room, the focus of every 
eye, and the end of the empty chain padlocked to the iron collar on my neck. 
More than ever I wished we had got rid of that collar, but it would hold me 
now for the purpose originally intended. The Commandant untied my hands and 
went away. Every girl present heard the turning of the lock. 

Helen was chained by her right wrist, impeding nothing. With a heartfelt cry 
of "Oh, darling," she threw her arms around my neck and we rattled our 
chains happily together while we breathlessly kissed and told our tales. 
Mine was the most heartbreaking, I need not have been there at all. But 
Helen had had no choice either. 

"They're going to sell us in a couple of days," she wailed. "Can't someone 
do something in two days." 

"They won't even discover where we are in that time," I volunteered 
unhappily. "They'll find out eventually, of course. But by that time we'll 
be save away and I don't suppose we'll ever be free again." 

The other naked merchandise soon lost interest in me. Every female in that 
room faced a similar fate. Another white girl linked to the opposite wall 
waved a greeting and shrugged to denote the uselessness of trying to 
converse. I tugged at my collar chain and Helen did the same with her 
shackled wrist. I suppose it did something for us, but it did not get us 
free. We slept in each other's arm in a terrible hunger for our own kind. 
Had the chains been a foot longer we could not have done so. Had the chains 
been two feet longer we might have been able to comfort each other in a 
different, more loving way. I don't think the other girl's presence would 
have made any difference, we saw other lesbian acts performed in that cell 
and thought nothing of it. 

In the days of waiting we had nothing to do except lounge in whatever 
posture our chains permitted and talk. But I found myself talking to a very 
different woman than the one who had made me captive and given me to her 
daughter as a gift. I told her of Audry's fate and offered what comfort I 
could, the main theme of which was "it could have been worse." Helen summed 
it up, "I suppose that's the best possible fate any of us could hope for. Do 
you think he'll buy me, too?" 

"He's already stated a refusal. He thinks mothers and daughters just spell 
trouble." 

"Then the best we can hope for is for you and me to be bought by the same 
man. Does that happen often?" 

"Don't ask me, darling, I don't know," I answered dejectedly. "You've been a 
slave as long as I have and all I've got out of it is whip marks, same as 
you," I sneered bitterly. "I expect the buyers pay extra for whip marks." 

We relaxed to examine our chains. Helen obviously hated the shackle on her 
wrist and its chain training mockingly to the wall. But with me the extra 
weight from my collar was nothing new. I fingered the links and padlock just 
from habit as though expecting the padlock to spring open. Silly, but a girl 
can always hope. 

There existed between Helen and me now only the comradeship of females in 
distress. Slavery had fined her down to where she was truly magnificent 
piece of womanhood. She would stir some buyer's pulse and fetch a good 
price. Bitterly, and as though reading my mind, she exclaimed, "I hate 
myself for what I am. The bastards have made me so obediently and submissive 
that I'm ashamed. Even if I escaped and got back to the USA, I'm not sure 
I'd be the same Helen I used to be. Damned! You and I are a pair of idiots 
when it comes to dealing with these people who seem to own us." She looked 
at me wanly, "Is it the same with you, darling? They reduce you to a mere 
nothing on the end of a chain. Even when they use rope I can't untie myself. 
I'm so damned useless...!" 

"Have they.. . I mean, have you had done to you that.. . you know what?" 

"Of course they did. Haven't they done it to you, too? I've been fucked 
enough to be pregnant twenty times over I think they put something in their 
food." 

I dropped the subject with its visions of chained girls yielding their loins 
in obedience to the whip. I would yield as ready as the others if confronted 
with enough pain. This cynical knowledge was reinforced in all of us by a 
daily occurrence. 

We never knew her sin, all we knew was her punishment. She had been 
sentenced to be whipped daily for a period of time which we were also 
ignorant. She was not one of our group awaiting sale, hence the marking of 
her skin did not matter. On the basis of making the most of a subject, our 
captors whipped the unfortunate maiden in such a way and in such a place as 
to give us the best possible view. She was brought in from somewhere else, 
bound spread eagle upright against the bars of our cage so we might see all 
her agony, and at the same time hear her moans and screams. It was not a 
real flogging, the girl would have been dead long since if it had been that 
severe. It was simply a fierce, barbaric arrangement intended solely to 
achieve maximum results on the girl who's flesh was to be marked yet again. 
She was usually bound to the bars for about an hour and whipped 
intermittently throughout. Then she was taken away and we fell once more 
into waiting a fate we did not desire. But most certainly this daily 
reminder of what could happen to us was potent. Helen and I bitterly 
conceded that we would be as obedient as our owners might demand. 
Enslavement is simply if you do everything the way you are told. Obedience 
is the word for being owned. Slave trading was evidently a serious business 
with its own techniques. Every time there was a auction there would be one 
or two of us from the group taken in to watch. We stood along side those to 
be sold, perhaps to peek the curiosity of clients when we were marched away 
after the final bid, unsold. No doubt we would be doubly attractive when 
actually offered. But our owners were extremely concerned with our behavior 
on the fatal day still to come. Our presence during an auction was in a 
sense a rehearsal. We observed and were admonished to copy and follow suit. 
We were witness to one or two incidents of rebellion. But these were swiftly 
punished by the suspension of the girl who was then ruthlessly whipped 
without mercy. She was told calmly and dispassionately she would be whipped 
until she vowed her obedience to whoever was to be her new owner. Sometimes 
it took a great many strokes. 

Most of the group with whom we were imprisoned spoke English, one actually 
was English and another American. But our stories were remarkably similar, 
all of us had been kidnapped in one way or another. There must have been 
thousands of us per year. Between us there grew a tremendous warmth of 
feeling in shared fear and a sense of being cheated out of life. Only a 
couple of the girls looked forward to being sold. Helen and I, having been 
sold before, viewed the forthcoming auction without enthusiasm. What it 
amounted to was being neatly extracted from our own lives and to henceforth 
live under the control of a stranger. 

No doubt we would have been an enticement to any male viewing us through the 
prison bars. Such a mouth-watering collection of breasts of all the varying 
contours of youth and grades of color from different origins. Breasts were 
everywhere you looked. To us girls who must gaze upon them constantly, they 
seemed the most prominent part of our landscape. But there were also our 
patched of pubic hair, and this, too, varied greatly in shade and size and 
nature. We were, in short, saturated in sensuality. Ordinarily a group of 
females would have been at odds with each other but our common fate grew us 
together in a degree often demonstrated by an embrace or the simple holding 
of each other's hands in silent communion. Helen and I did this often. In 
freedom we might have been in opposite camps but not now! One by one these 
days of our imprisonment sped their course to bring us closer to the block. 

Even we who were to be sold were infected by the excitation of the auction 
block and all its implications. The day began for us with the curt 
instruction to work upon each other with the cosmetics, the combs, the 
brushes, etc. passed to us through the bars. We had already been hosed down 
and, despite our knowledge of what lay ahead, could not avoid pleasure in 
the feminine things we were now allowed to use. It did not occur to any of 
us to rebel, our preconditioning had made this sale of our bodies 
inevitable. The door was unlocked and a woman entered to inspect our work, 
correcting it here and there, improving it where she could. Despite myself, 
I felt the common excitement as did Helen. We worked on each other with all 
our skills and grinned wryly at the success of our endeavors. When our 
temporary owners considered us in saleable condition our hands were crossed 
and bound behind our back, I expect as much to improve posture and exposure 
as to prevent us performing some act of rebellion. We spent an hour thus, 
robbed of our hands and able only to look at painted nipples and rouged 
contours. We were then marshaled along the wall in the fatal room to await 
the coming of the cash to buy our chains. 

Helen was sold first of all. I watched her mount the block to be turned this 
way and that for her nakedness to be even more total than needed. I watched 
the bound hands twist and fight the cords but she was obedient to what she 
had been told to do. After her exposure she stood proud and erect to face 
the those who would bid. I had to suppose she had been chosen as the first 
in order to separate us. I watched the final act of her disposal in a 
desolation of loneliness as she stepped back down the stairs to stand while 
her elbows were bound behind her back as were her hands. And she was covered 
by a white sheath fastening around her neck. The clerk at his desk beside 
the dais busied himself with wads of currency and the preparation of a 
certificate of sale. We knew about these certificates of sale they 
legalized, in this strange land, the disposal of a human being. No matter 
how questionable the girl's status may have been before the sale, the 
bidding and this document cemented her fate. From then on she was a slave. 
It was happening to Helen and would soon be happening to me. 

All of us watched her removed from the room, none of us knowing if the man 
who held her arm was her new owner or a lackey. We had been told that those 
who bided were mostly agents for someone else. No doubt I should have felt 
pride and honor in being kept to last, but all I did feel was a dull ache of 
despair. Quinlan and the penthouse were disappearing in the mists of 
distance. I would never now own Gertie or see her in the wire cage awaiting 
my pleasure. My life was over, had I been rescued before this auction I 
might have been returned to the living. But after the final certificate was 
signed and stamped. I would be lost forever. I blinked back tears and 
twisted my bound hands just as Helen had done as I took deliberate steps up 
to where my nakedness would be in its best display. It would have been nice 
if I had understood the language but the jokes and patter and bidding was 
unintelligible. I stood there and boldly and brazenly examined each face by 
whom I might be owned but recognized none. When it was over I stepped down 
and stood in the familiar pose of submission, erect, chin up, while my 
elbows were tightly tied and the cords around my wrists doubly checked. I 
could not even read the certificate as it was ceremoniously handed to the 
man in who's charge I was now placed, a man I guessed to be a servant even 
though he was treated with difference. With me there was an innovation, I 
was blindfolded before being picked up and carried from the place where I 
had been made a slave. I did not struggle, I did not speak. What the hell 
was the use? 

I was dumped into a vehicle and sat uncomfortably straining at my ropes for 
a journey into darkness. The process was then reversed, I was carried a 
greater distance, presumably through the corridors and passages of a house, 
until I was stood erect upon my unbound feet and told firmly to stay as I 
was, an order easy enough to obey in my condition. I stood there breathless, 
not knowing if I were alone or the focal point of a hundred eyes. 

Soon I sensed a presence. I had heard nothing but I was picking up 
vibrations and turned my bound eyes this way and that. I did not have to 
stand proud or enhance my posture, my bound arms did that for me. I knew my 
breasts were pointing in an unintentional arrogance at who ever was viewing 
my helplessness. It was only moments before fingertips explored them and 
teased my nipples before imposing a tracery of acute sensation as one hand 
was lowed to clasp the inevitable handful of my sex. Where ever a male hand 
may start, a girl can be assured it will always end in that hot, moist 
place, which for most of mankind is heart's desire. I obediently widened the 
spacing of my feet to accommodate the questing palm. I did not flinch when 
an impatient hand tore away the clasp of the shift and tossed it aside to 
reveal in full and vivid nakedness the contours the fingers had explored 
through fabric. I hoped I was not to be given the degradation of an orgasm. 
But the fingers ceased their excitation of my senses and rose to the 
fastenings of my blindfold. In moments the bands were unwound and I was 
blinking at a familiar face. It was Don Felipe. 

13 

Tight Bound 

"Welcome back to slavery, dear child." The aristocratic features bestowed 
the smile I knew so well. "Fate appears to inevitably lead you to the 
auction block." 

"Oh, thank goodness it's you. Have you really bought me, do I belong to you 
now?" 

"You belong to me, Candice. After a while I will have you whipped so you may 
properly understand you condition." His thin smile noted my wrenched 
shoulders. "I expect you would like your elbows untied?" 

"Oh, would you please! They hurt horribly, and there's really no need...." 

"No, I will not, dear child. They will remain bound as they are now while we 
talk. Come, knell before this chair where I will sit so we may converse. I 
will order a stimulant, I am sure you feel the need for one." 

I knelt, knees well apart. I was hurting and helpless enough to do anything 
I was told. My first wave of happiness at seeing Don Felipe's face was now 
fading with doubts. True, he had sold me back to Quinlan, but would he do so 
a second time! I gulped gratefully at the glass held to my lips by a serving 
wench. Never for a moment did the eyes of Don Felipe leave his new 
possession. I would not ask to be untied again, I would suffer the pain of 
joined elbows and chafed wrists at this man's pleasure. Instead I asked, "Do 
you still own Audry, Don Felipe?" 

"Indeed. Candice. You will see her but not now. There are things I must 
explain to you. No doubt you are puzzled." 

"I am puzzled and I'm frightened and I don't know what you're going to do 
with me." 

Don Felipe held up a hand to still the flood of words he knew I longed to 
release. He said quietly something he had said often in times past. "You are 
a beautiful girl, Candice, a man would be a fool to part with you." 

"Thank you." 

"Your breasts are even more perfect than I recall." 

"It's because of my tied arms...." 

His raised hand stopped me once again. "No, it is not you roped elbows, my 
dear, it is you. You are absolutely superb, I am looking forward to having 
you whipped." 

I knelt there utterly forlorn, already feeling the thong cut at my skin. 
Without assertion, I affirmed, "I belong to Quinlan Robins. You sold me to 
him. Will you inform him I am here?" 

"There is something you should know, Candice. You believe yourself the 
possession of Mr. Robins, but that possession was canceled out by your 
foolishness in returning to San Beueno as you have done. Your excursion back 
to his land is an affront, a deliberate provocation to all our 
institutions." 

"I came back for Helen. Quinlan was prepared to buy and pay for her, I was 
simply a messenger and a companion to take her home." 

"This is not a female's land, Candice. Mr. Robins should have performed this 
task." 

"He was heavily involved with business. Does San Beueno kidnap and enslave 
any female from a foreign land? I cannot believe any of this." 

"That disbelief is why you must be whipped, Candice dear child. But allow me 
to make your present status clear. You are once again a slave. I own you. I 
have bought and paid for you. The freedom Mr. Robins purchased for you some 
time ago and which you have so blatantly abused by returning here in the 
manner you have, is now canceled out. You have been imprisoned and made 
merchandise and you have been officially sold at auction, the transaction 
being officially noted on a certificate I now hold. You are not the property 
of Mr. Robins, you are mine." 

That clarified what I had guess. I knelt before the ancient man and beheld 
my life vanish into the channels he prescribed. I would disappear and only 
official shrugs and raised eyebrows would reward Quinlan in his efforts to 
locate me. I said, "Very well, I am your slave, I belong to you. What now, 
what of my life?" 

"Your life is mine." 

"Yes, I know. But what will you do with it, do with me? In little while 
you'll have me whipped. But after my whipping, what then? Am I to be kept 
forever naked, forever bound? I expect to give you pleasure, and this I will 
obediently do." I smiled a weak, desolate smile. "I am not new to slavery. I 
will render unto Caesar...." 

"There still remains your training, Candice. Have you forgotten? It improved 
you considerably back then, it will do so now." 

"Must I endure more of that slave gang labor you have said I am beautiful?" 

"Beautiful, but tainted by the freedom your Quinlan Robins purchased for 
you. Freedom does not become a girl like you." 

I could think of nothing to say, Don Felipe had said it all. In bitter anger 
and anguish of spirit I retorted, "Very well, there's nothing more to say. 
You certainly do let a girl know exactly where she's at. If you don't mind, 
I think I'll like to be whipped now, the whipping you promised me. I don't 
want it hanging over my head all the time." I looked up at him pleadingly. 
"I don't suppose you understand how the knowledge she is going to be whipped 
fills a girl's mind and excludes everything else." 

I saw compassion in the ancient eyes gazing down at me with tenderness. I 
felt a small, pathetic female bundle, deserving only punishment. I knew I 
was being viewed as a rebel strayed from the fold who must be brought back 
with the tried and true methods of centuries of slavery. I would be whipped 
with compassion but the pain would be no less. 

"You will be whipped at a time of my own choosing, Candice. You have indeed 
wallowed too deep in freedom with deplorable results. But let's forget your 
coming punishment. I am sure you're curious about the child Audry. Come, I 
will introduce you to her once again." I am sure he thought he was kind but 
his kindness was frightening, behind it was the promise of the whip which 
would now probably be twice as hard for insolence in asking for it. I 
accepted Don Felipe's helping hand to stand erect, a hand which did not 
leave my bare are but guided me. 

Audry was naked in a cage, a pretty bird bound spread-eagle to the bars, 
roped at wrist and ankle, waist and above and below her breasts. Don Felipe 
said simply, "She is not a well behaved girl, she suffers often." 

Audry and I were alone, the cage door slammed and Don Felipe went his way. 
Audry stared at me in disbelief, a disbelief which grew as I told her the 
sad story I had. We could not touch, both of us were helpless, but we could 
kiss and this we did to our heart's content. And I found fresh courage in 
the hot, young lips so ardent on my own. 

When Audry was done kissing she whispered urgently, "We can't escape, 
there's just no way. I've tried and tired but all I get is more punishment." 

There was surprisingly little to talk about, all we wanted was each other 
and we had that to a limited degree as our bondage allowed. As if by mutual 
consent we ignored the possibility I might knell and give her pleasure with 
my lips. The act seemed inappropriate to our mood. Instead I snuggled close 
and we rubbed breast against breast and nipple against nipple, frictioning 
our bodies in terrible longing. After we had done this a long, long time 
there was an interruption. 

It was a woman, one of the house servants to whom we were obviously just 
another chore. Dispassionately she said to me, "You having too much fun," 
then slipped a noose over my head and tightened it around my neck. She did 
the same for Audry but warned. "You play tricks, I break you neck. You 
follow where I say." Then she untied Audry from the bars and quickly, 
efficiently bound her hands behind her back. 

I obeyed. I had no choice. Audry also was obedient, she had learned her 
lessons well. We were a pair of docile lambs led to the slaughter. 

Our journey was only out into the garden and to a pair of slender trees. My 
noose was made permanent by being snubbed and bound against the trunk of one 
while the woman's main attention was devoted to Audry. She was backed 
against another trunk and her hands rebound behind the trunk very tightly. 
Then her waist was brutally cinched tight in a belt of many strands. The 
woman then turned her attention to a small pot waiting for us on the ground. 
In it was a brush and with the brush she painted Audry's nipples with a 
sticky substance. She then turned her attention to my own. Without another 
word we watched her go away with an uncomfortably feeling in our stomachs. I 
looked at Audry in mute questioning. 

"I'm not sure about this, darling, but I think this stuff she's painted on 
our tips attracts some kind of lousy insect," my fellow captive said 
dejectedly. "Anyway, it won't be long before we find out. I say. darling, 
can you get loose? I can't, she's got me tied but good!" 

I was tied more painfully than she but I made no mention of the fact. Only 
my noose tethered me to the tree but it was enough. I would stand forever 
there unless my master said otherwise. But at the moment I was stingingly 
aware of my painted breasts, the stuff on my nipples did not hurt and no 
doubt my sensations were mental but there were there. I felt as though I had 
stepped naked from a bath and had no towel. 

"I knew it!" Audry exclaimed in dismay. "If there's one there'll be a dozen. 
And we can't get away. Oh, damn!" 

They were beetles, some big. some small. First there was one centering in 
upon Audry's left nipple which she could not shield. Both of us gazed at the 
beastly thing in a terrible fascination as it took the nipple of the bound 
teenager and fed avidly upon whatever substance it was that anointed our 
breasts. Soon it was joined by others. Her right breasts were next seized by 
a couple of smaller members of the beetles then it was my turn. And quite 
soon each of our nipples was a busy center of excited insects, seeming to 
feed upon our flesh but as yet only concerned upon the substance from the 
jar. The same thoughts were upon our minds when they finished that sticky 
stuff? 

Audry was tied more tightly to her tree than I to mine, her struggles were 
frantic but strictly limited. The tight ropes around her tummy and her 
pinioned arms prevented much movement of her torso and the beetle-covered 
breasts. I could struggle and twist more freely but the pain from my bound 
elbows was bitter and my tethering to the tree short. To a watching eye we 
must have made an amusing pair of nudes in our fruitless protests against 
the living things feeding on our nipples. It was not until we realized we, 
ourselves, were not to be eaten that we relaxed within our bonds and 
surveyed the numerous black beetles crawling around our breasts. 

"He thinks up the damnedest things," Audry said. "I've been waiting for the 
snake pit but I suppose he's keeping that for last." 

"I doubt if the Don ordered this," I told her. "He probably consigned us to 
the servants and this is their idea of an amusing afternoon for a couple of 
girls who can't fight back. I think the Don is satisfied to just own things. 
He's collected us the way he might have collected a couple Ming vases or an 
oil painting or two. He knows a daily dose of some misery like this is going 
to keep us well behaved. 

Soon enough the beetles finished their free lunch and began leaving, our 
nippies licked and sucked clean, more or less. When we were about to 
congratulate each other and relax in our bonds to wait, we were forced to 
groan in unison at the sight of the woman and her jar making her way towards 
us with a purpose all too evident. 

"You like the beetles, huh? Pretty beetles like you." She stirred the 
contents of the jar with the brush. Once again my breast of the target of 
that brush and its sticky stuff but this time not the nipple alone, but the 
entire firm cone I was secretly proud of. Round and round went the brush, 
returning to the pot for fresh supplies of the fluid. Audry was horrified. 

"Darling, she's doing both your breasts, all of them, I mean the whole 
breast. We'll have an absolute beehive." 

I watched the poor kid struggle helplessly against the ropes when her turn 
came. The beetle bait was thicker on her than on me, dripping slightly from 
the nipples when the painting was finished. 

"You feed plenty of devils now," our tormentor gloated. "This time I make 
much better." She had plenty of the stuff left and was looking at our pubic 
brushes. 

We could have kicked. I suppose it was a tribute to our training we did not. 
But instead we obediently spread our legs and cringe as the brush applied 
the now-hated stuff to our private parts. From the feel of it we were being 
heavily plastered, I could not observe my own pussy but I could certainly 
see poor Audry get her dose of beetle bait. 

"You now have much fun, you most luck girls," our jailer informed before she 
walked away without a backward glance. 

It was hateful, a misery cleverly designed to break down a girl's pride and 
regret her sex. If being a slave meant the continual torturing of her 
breasts and the slit at the junction of her thighs, then indeed it would 
have been better to be born a man. I had never felt this way before. But as 
I struggled vainly at enemies I could not touch, I preyed most ardently for 
a return to a place were girls were girls and not naked merchandise to be 
tied to trees and be tortured. I suppose it was not really torture but it 
seemed that at the time. Our breasts were soon crawling with a multitude of 
tiny legs. We kicked and squirmed and did dislodge a few of the unwelcome 
visitors below but it was a futile effort. After a while we gave it up and 
let them feed to their heart's content. I had never felt so female and so 
ineffectual in my life. 

"I'm being to feel horny," said Audry without enthusiasm, echoing a 
awareness within my own flesh. I wondered if Don Felipe would be amused at 
the thought of two maidens thrusting their orgasm as surges against his 
ropes while beetles fed upon their private parts. 

On her next visit with brush and pot, our jailer rearranged me. I was 
fearing my bound elbows might fall off if left too long. Leaving my neck 
securely noosed, she freed my elbows and hands only to rebind the wrists 
behind the trunk. She then cinched my waist with strand after strand as she 
had with Audry. She then took the rope noose from my neck to leave me in the 
same position as my teenage fellow-sufferer. Then it was another application 
of the hated stuff, this time enlarging the scope to work the stuff well 
into our pubic patches and even painting our asses. 

A prisoner has to enjoy small compensations and I had to admit I felt very 
grateful for the freeing of my elbows, a relief which partly assuaged my 
anguish over the shinning black bodies which so happily fed upon my flesh. 

"A most charming sight, I see you are accustoming yourselves to acting as 
hostess to the insects of San Beueno," said Don Felipe in a pleasant 
conversational tone. He had come upon us unawares, we had been too busy with 
our guests to notice his approach. He bestowed his thin smile. "I am 
informed by those who have enjoyed what you now enjoy that it is not without 
its own compensation." 

"It's beastly, it's hateful!" Audry affirmed loudly. 

"What you've just said is true enough but just makes it doubly horrible," I 
told him frankly. "I'd sooner be whipped." 

"Ah, and so you shall be, my dear. This is simply a pleasant diversion for 
your afternoon. Perhaps I will have you whipped tomorrow, there is not 
hurry." 

Audry and I said nothing. What were there to say! We stood, tight in our 
bonds and were bitterly ashamed that this man should behold the feeding 
things upon our breasts and pubs. To be seen thus by an aristocrat was 
humiliation upon humiliation. It took a conscious determination of will to 
stop our struggled but both Audry and I achieved it and stood, tense and 
breathing heavily. Don Felipe nodded approvingly but did not linger. We were 
glad when he was gone for then we could resume our futile twisting with our 
legs. That dislodged an occasional beetle and was the only weapon we 
possessed. 

The two trees held us until evening then we were freed from them and taken 
to a dungeon which, I have to admit, was not too dismal. There our collars 
were joined by a two foot length of chain, our hands untied from behind our 
backs and then my left hand was handcuffed to Audry's right and vice versa 
on the other side. Had we not been so miserable we might have laughed at the 
quaint situation we found ourselves in. We could do a number of things but 
all only with difficulty. As for instance the raising for food and drink to 
our lips. At first we kissed most ardently and would have made our female 
love had it not been for the fresh memories of the crawling army of beetles. 
No doubt our flesh would again become desirable as time passed but not right 
now. 

By mutual consent we ignored our nipples and our sex, we even managed a 
chuckle of two in the difficulties of arranging ourselves for sleep. We have 
been cunningly chained. Someone, somewhere would be laughing. 

In the morning our wrists were crossed and bound behind our backs, the 
handcuffs and neck chain discarded. For some reason it pleased our captors 
to have rope upon our wrists instead of metal. We were then thrust against a 
washroom wall and subjected to the icy jet as a hose played against our 
naked bodies. For once this was a welcome attention. We need that jet, it 
made us feel whole again. 

"A thousands apologies, this intrusion is an imposition upon a valued 
friend, Don Felipe." Quinlan's voice was dry. "I would ask your forgiveness 
but probably you were expecting me." 

It was insane, it was outrageous and impossible! But it was happening. Audry 
and I gazed upon my beloved master in pure disbelief. We had readied 
ourselves for a Castilian lecture and then punishments.. . But not for this! 
We dared say no word but our hearts were in our eyes. 

We made a perfect tableau of submissive maidens before their owner. We had 
been delivered to Don Felipe's lounge and there told to kneel separately 
before the chair in which he carelessly disposed himself to gaze upon our 
kneeling nakedness with unusual benevolence. He had scarcely began io speak 
when a servant interrupted his thoughts with a flood of Spanish indicating 
an urgent visitor. Don Felipe smiled his thin and secret smile and nodded. 
Quinlan's entry followed, and there we were, the four of us with but a 
single thought. But we were not alone, there was also a fifth. Behind my 
darling master was the nakedness of Helen, prettily handcuffed, a noose 
around her neck by which, as with a leash, Quinlan had led her into the The 
Presence. Quinlan explained her presence in a few brief words, "Bought her 
at the auction, you know. Figured I'd have a use for her. Not bad material, 
huh?" 

There was a handshake. These two men, even though on opposite sides of the 
fence, respected and liked each other. Don Felipe clapped his hand and 
ordered refreshments all around. When the arrived, he directed the serving 
girls to hold them to the lips of bound maidens who's hands were useless. 
Audry and I knelt, Helen stood, her head bowed submissively we were females, 
we did not count. What counted were the men! 

"You are indeed most welcome, Mr. Robins." The Don's dry tone matched that 
of his visitor. "You are correct, your visit is not unexpected." Tiny 
droplets of humor moistened his words. "No doubt you have come to witness 
the whipping of Candice Cosgrove, it is to take place this afternoon. I am 
sure she will be honored." 

The old bastard was actually enjoying himself! But then, why not when he 
held all the cards. I stole a glance at Audry and saw she was trembling as 
was I. Behind the pleasantries was the cold steel of purpose. And we were 
well aware of it. I would have loved to kick Quinlan for what he said next. 

"I will observe Miss Cosgrove's punishment with pleasure, Don. You are most 
kind. I am sure the dear girl merits whatever it is you intend to give her. 
In fact I would be obliged if you would add several strokes on my behalf. I 
am annoyed with a slavegirl so susceptible to kidnapping. It must denote 
some weakness in the dear girl's character." 

"A weakness San Beueno will correct with hard labor and the lash," added Don 
Felipe, pleasantly. "It has worked with the two you behold kneeling in sweet 
submission as we have taught Them." There was a dry little cough. "I do hope 
you have not entered my house with any intent of disrupting or terminating 
Miss Cosgrove's servitude?" 

"I did have that in mind," Quinlan admitted, unperturbed. "I did not bid on 
the lady in question at the auction knowing your prerogative as senior of 
this district, but I brought along a bank draft or two and feel we can 
discuss possibilities." 

"Alas, no, dear friend." Don Felipe's voice held all the sadness of the 
world. "It would be quite wrong to interrupt the lady's education at this 
point. I could not dream of selling so imperfect a piece of merchandise to a 
dear friend." There was a dry chuckle, "But perhaps, since you posses the 
mother, you might wish to also avail yourself of the daughter. Audry is well 
trained and a credit to my house. Her price is quite high, but what is money 
between friends." 

They really were a prime pair of bastards, busy shafting each other. I 
listened breathlessly, my life at stake at this polite exchange of 
insincerities. I adored Quinlan to distraction and knelt there quivering as 
he indicated a further source of ammunition, "If I may be excused one 
moment, Sir. I left something outside the door, something in which I'm am 
sure you will find an interest." 

Quinlan tossed Helen's leash careless to the rug, commanded her to kneel, 
then went to the door. When he returned in a matter of moments he was 
leading another woman similarly leashed and bound. She was also gagged. 

It was Gertie from the wire cage down on the farm. 

Don Felipe was impressed, there could be no doubt of it! I was impressed, 
too. Gertie had been most adequately whipped, which no doubt accounted for 
her good behavior and tractability upon the leash. But she had also 
obviously been dieting and exercising to refine her ample muscularity and 
female curves into a new perfection. Gertie had always been abundantly 
female, she was now feminine as an additional bonus. I sensed rather than 
heard my owner's indrawn breath. For Don Felipe, Gertie was a new dimension 
in slavegirls. 

"I've had this one kicking around at home for quite a while, Don Felipe," 
Quinlan said affably. "I felt sure you'd be interested." 

The Don was interested indeed but, of course, he was not going to say so. He 
capitalized on Gertie's gag. "I note the necessity to silence the woman 
forcibly, Mr. Robins?" 

"Only on the basis of silence being golden. Sir. If you wish I will release 
her lips so she may demonstrate her good behavior." 

"Prompted by those whip marks, no doubt," Don Felipe suggested dryly. "No, 
never mind, I'll take you word for her virtues. She is most certainly a most 
impressive package of female. Not in the class of Candice or Audry, but 
nonetheless attractive. She has a figure well designed to absorb the whip." 

I hoped no one would hear the thudding of my heart. Don Felipe held Audry 
and me. My beloved Quin held only Helen and Gertie. Was a trade possible? I 
doubted it sadly. But a slavegirl can never be quite sure about the vagaries 
of the sensuous male. I had to admit Gertie was quite something as she stood 
there nakedly bound, awaiting a fate all too easy to guess. She radiated a 
female musk in the warm room and a glow from both her whipped and unmarked 
skin. Don Felipe weakened his bargaining position by rising and turning her 
this way and that for an inspection. When he knelt and thrust her legs apart 
to examine her treasure, I felt hope and allowed my eyes to rise and meet 
Quinlan's. Once the masculine superiority I saw there would have irritated 
me but now I adored it. 

It was a remarkable tableau worthy of one of the better masters of the arts; 
two naked girls kneeling, a naked woman kneeling with head bowed in 
dejection, Don Felipe busy with Gertie's curves and planes, particularly the 
massive portions of her solidly jutting breasts. In his chair, Quinlan 
surveying the entire scene in seeming quiet amusement. When Don Felipe 
returned to be once more seated, he said without preamble, "For the two I 
possess, the two you hold, Mr. Robins, plus the sum of one million dollars 
American." 

"You are a gentleman and a scholar, Sir. I have here a draft...." 

The Don graciously accepted our outrageous price. When he was locking 
Quinlan's check in a draw the silence was broken for the first time by a 
female voice, Helen's. "Audry, don't worry about me. I want your freedom 
most of all. What Mr. Robins is doing is with my consent. Look after things 
at home and perhaps one day I will be set free to return to you." 

"An un-likely event," said Don Felipe icily. He turned to Quinlan, "And now, 
Mr. Robins, the matter of the whipping of Candice, who is now your property. 
Would you wish this to proceed as planned?" 

"Indubitably." The emphasis Quin placed upon the single word made it seem a 
failure to whip me would be a moral deficiency. "I would rob you of nothing, 
Sir. Please lead the way and get the matter dealt with." 

I should have hated Quin and Don Felipe, I should have been bitterly 
resentful. But I was none of these things. My heart was beating in a joyous 
rhythm and my mind a whirl of utter thankfulness. I was going home with my 
master to the USA and Audry was coming, too. What did it matter if my back 
and bottom bore fresh strips! In obedience to Don Felipe's nod. I stood 
erect and walked proudly to the place of execution. There my audience 
disposed themselves or were placed where the Don directed while my hands 
were bound to the overhead beam and my ankles pulled wide apart to be tied 
to the vertical posts. I was utterly delivered to the whip and should have 
been close to screaming hysterics but was not. 

When Quinlan came and took my stretched nakedness in his arms and kissed me 
lovingly I whispered urgently, "It won't hurt, darling, it won't hurt at 
all. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" 

Don Felipe clapped his hands to summon the inevitable servant and the 
inevitable whip. I looked over my bare shoulder and stretched arm and 
smiled. The whip whined and snickered through the air to meet my waiting 
flesh. I screamed deliciously. 

I screamed for twenty strokes and loved each one. 


THE END
