The Sensuality Club
by F. E. Campbell 


Chapter 1 

Sensuality in Cord 

After four days Angelique was still not sure. When Avis was around it didn't 
seem so bad or so unusual for Angelique to have her crossed wrists tied 
behind her back. She and Avis had always prided themselves on being way out 
front. Between them was a trust born of years of a certain kind of intimacy, 
an intimacy only two girls can know. And which had made it easy for Avis to 
remove Angelique clothes and keep her nude. For them nudity was no big deal. 
Most of their intimacy had been without clothes. There was also the matter 
of the Sensuality Club. 

It had been sweet of Avis to pay the membership which Angelique could not 
afford. It was a very large sum of money designed to keep the club 
exclusive. It was a feminine club and girls entered it only by virtue of 
being erotically inclined as well as rich. There were, of course, the girls 
like Angelique who were sponsored and financed by a member of some standing. 
These girls were rigorously tested and examined. But once admitted, 
possessed the same rights and privileges as their sponsors. Very few people 
had ever heard of the Sensuality Club and that was the way they liked it. 

Angelique shifted unhappily upon the couch and wished Avis would come home. 
She had rubbed the cords with which she was bound against almost every 
object in the penthouse and no longer believed she could ever free her 
hands. She tugged and twisted a lot but no longer expected to discover the 
vital bit of slack she needed to escape. Avis had proven to be far better at 
binding a girl than one would expect. Angelique sighed and wandered to the 
bedroom which Avis laughingly had said was all her own. It was a nice room 
except for the bars through which she had to gaze if she wanted a penthouse 
view. She was given the run of the place the bars didn't matter much. Avis 
had explained that she didn't have to be tied up and put behind bars as 
well. The penthouse was locked in ways Angelique could not overcome. Nor had 
she access to a phone. The only restriction to her wanderings was the bit of 
nylon rope bound around each ankle and joining them with only about a foot 
and a half of slack, enough to walk but not enough to run. And she could not 
even kick. 

There was, of course, the television and stereo, both of which could be 
controlled by a maiden whose hands were tied like Angelique's. There was 
also an abundance of reading material which the nude captive discovered was 
best dealt with by kneeling against the couch to awkwardly twist and turn 
the pages with bound hands with occasional help from cheek and tongue. Since 
the available entertainment was difficult and of little interest it left the 
expertly controlled girl with plenty of time to ponder the how and the why. 

"It's wonderful the club accepted you, Angelique dear. The selection went 
without a hitch. Not a single negative vote. I really am pleased and you are 
going to be thrilled to bits. Let me kiss you. Everything normal!" 

They had kissed perhaps a little too hungrily but that was nothing new. The 
new member was not thinking all that much about the club when she inquired, 
"The initiation you mentioned, what is it?" 

"You'll take it in stride, Angelique, my sweet. It takes a little time and 
maybe I'll get you started this evening. Don't worry about it." 

The Sensuality Club's newest member wasn't much caring but was curious. She 
could sense something was up and she knew from past experiences that it 
might not be a good something. But curiosity still prompted, "Get me 
started! Avis, what are you talking about?" 

The loving arms of Avis Banner encircled Angelique's slenderness as willing 
lips once more engaged. "Darling, you're thinking of hot irons and ice cubes 
and having to service all the members, and all sorts of things like that. I 
know, I went through it myself." 

"Sensuality." Angelique rolled the word upon her tongue. "It sounds 
gorgeous. And you told me some of the things. Do I really have to go through 
this initiation business?" 

"Of course you do, we all do. And if you're going to worry about it, maybe I 
should get you started on the first step. Angelique, my pet, would you mind 
terribly if I tied your hands?" 

"You mean that's part of my initiation?" 

"What else!" 

"It sounds harmless, not a bit dramatic. That is, if it is you who does the 
tying. No, I won't mind." 

"You'll have to take your clothes off, darling. You can always refuse." 

"There'll only be girls there, won't there? I mean like now?" 

"Just girls, not a man anywhere near." 

Angelique had made a swift and unconcerned shedding of everything she wore. 
"You've seen me like this often enough, and I suppose that seeing me in the 
buff wouldn't be that big a thing for the members. I'm thinking of that 
word, sensuality. What do I do now?" 

"Turn around and cross your wrists behind you back. It's very simple." 

The length of cord had come from nowhere. But then, why not! This was Avis's 
home and Avis had known this moment would come. Angelique found an 
unexpected thrill as her crossed wrists felt the cord, which Avis seemed to 
use with a remarkably special care in the encirclement of slender wrists. 
There was, she noted absently, not one single, final knot but several 
tightly tied ones applied as the cord went on. Then there was the final 
command, "I want you to try and get loose. I mean, tug and pull so as to 
show me whatever slack I've left behind." 

That was easy, too. Angelique twisted and pulled her hands in the conviction 
that if she did so enough she would defeat the ropes and poor, dear Avis 
would have to do the job all over again. It did not happen. It was Avis then 
who did the tugging and pulling, checking all wrappings and knots. 

"Where on earth did you learn to tie like that?" Angelique asked innocently. 
"I don't believe I can possibly get loose. I mean it feels so ... so ... 
Well, anyway, it's a real neat job. Oh, wow, if a man was to walk in now, 
I'd die! Just die!" 

"The next thing is for you to sit down." 

Angelique sat. This was exciting. It was something new. In obedience to a 
command she stretched out her legs to watch a thicker bit of rope bind her 
ankle before being carefully measured then tied to her other foot. "It's 
what they call being 'hobbled', Angelique darling. You're hobbled for sure." 

"Is it to prevent me kicking someone? Or simply to stop me running?" 

"Both. But that's the lot for now. You've had it for this evening and it's 
just a case of becoming accustomed to losing your hands and sort of having 
only half your feet. What's it feel like?" 

"It's made me excited. I don't know why. Is it okay if I get loose?" 

"Sure, go ahead, struggled all you like. If you do get loose, I'll have a 
red face!" She grinned at her friend. "And then you can tie me up! The girls 
probably wouldn't mind which one of us they got to do things to. Go ahead, 
give it all you've got, Angelique, my pet." 

Angelique had twisted and tugged for a long time until she realized she was 
beginning to sweat and had made no progress. At the end of ten minutes she 
was as tightly tied as when Avis had tugged the final knot. Still curious 
she inquired, "I don't think I can get loose. There's no way I can get 
loose. What happens now?" 

"Nothing." 

The single word contained a message. Angelique was positive of that. The 
only thing left was to ask the obvious. 

"How long are you going to keep me like this? An hour?" 

"Until I'm ready to let you loose. You are staying the night, aren't you?" 

"Try and stop me! This being tied up the way you've done it has got me three 
times as horny as I've ever been. Is this something those sensuality girls 
have discovered? Or is it just me?" 

"Just a fact of life, Angelique. I've just remembered, there is one other 
thing." 

Angelique had looked at the long slender switch, a branch cut from some tree 
and stripped until it was smooth. And she felt some apprehension for it 
seemed a wicked instrument to introduce to what had, up to now, been just a 
bit of fun between two friends. It was swishy and flexible as Avis played 
with it as she cooed, "You don't ever have to feel this, Angelique, my love. 
But it will be kept around as evidence of authority in case you disobey." 
Avis's voice became intensely sincere. "Don't ever disobey. It simply isn't 
worth it. Do whatever you're told and keep your skin unmarked. I hate this 
cane and I'll never use it on you unless you force me." 

"Avis! You actually would! On me!" 

"Only if you made me, it's up to you." 

"All right, all right. But please put it away for now. Put it away somewhere 
that I can't see. I wish you had never brought it out." 

"It's part of your initiation, dear." 

Angelique became very aware of how useless her hands were when tied behind 
her back. And of feet with a limited value. The cane had vanished the good 
feeling and the heat of carnal interest. 

"I think I've had enough," she said with firm decision. "Please untie me." 

For answer. Avis kissed her gently and went away. 

That had been the beginning! 

She was victim to a tease, undoubted that was the answer. Avis would come 
back and untie the ropes so they could have a civilized nightcap and go to 
bed. Angelique felt positive her erotic impulses, dissolve by sight of the 
yellow cane, would then return and everything would be beautiful in the way 
it always was. But at the end of an hour the twinge of fear was once more 
nagging at her mind. And at the end of two hours she set out to do what she 
had been ashamed to do previously because of the hobbles on her feet. She 
went in search of Avis. 

Avis was not in the apartment. There were locked doors behind which there 
were probably telephones. But nothing alive anywhere. Angelique shivered. 
For something to do, she deliberately tested her ability to adjust to 
hobbled feet. It no longer mattered that she would appear ridiculous, there 
was none to see. She learned how to walk but with slow, snubbed steps and 
felt frustration that she couldn't simply step out and walk normally. 

When Avis did finally return, she was going to get a piece of Angelique's 
mind. But before she had finished compiling a number of bitter things to 
say, Avis returned to defeat the acid retorts by taking Angelique in loving 
and protective arms to kiss and fondle until anger was replaced by gasping 
breath and shinning eyes. 

"Poor, darling Angelique, I was mean, wasn't I? I'll bet you were getting 
scared. I'll bet you were getting ready to give me a real blast." 

"Well ... yes, I was." 

"I wanted you to have that time alone and get those feelings you just 
experienced. We'll go to bed pretty quick, but let's first have a brandy and 
I'll tell you something else you'll have to know. Okay?" 

"Of course it's okay. But first untie my hands?" 

"Not yet, love. Hold your horses and you'll soon see why." 

Everything was suddenly normal. It was cute having Avis hold the brandy 
sniffer to two willing lips. And to be kissed warmly by a very good friend. 
When it came time to refill the glasses, Avis, obviously struggling for 
words, changed the life of Angelique Martin forever. 

"Darling, there's something I have to tell you and I'm not sure how to go 
about it," Avis said thoughtfully. "You asked me to untie your hands. But 
I'm not going to untie your hands or your feet ... not ever." 

"Darling, I do wish you'd stop teasing. I'm not a child, I'm twenty-four, 
and that's too old to be teased as far as you're carrying this. May I have 
another drink?" 

"I'm not teasing." 

The blight statement hung heavy in the air until Angelique gulped greedily 
at the offered glass. Avis continued, "We've resigned your job for you and 
discontinued the lease on your apartment. We've let it be known that you've 
run into an attractive offer overseas. But instead you've become the 
property of the Sensuality Club, and I've been elected to break the news." 

"And what else is new?" 

"I know it will take time to sink in, Angelique, my sweet. That's why I've 
doing it by easy stages. I love you and don't want you frightened." 

"I'm already frightened." Angelique snuggled close. "Please get on with 
this. This is the most boring practical joke I've ever been victim to. Is 
there anything more?" 

"There's about twenty-five members of the club right now, and you'll be 
passed from member to member. While you're in any member's possession, she 
can do as she pleases with you. The club will make quite certain you are 
always kept completely helpless as you are now. Goodness knows when your 
hands will ever be untied, perhaps never. We have to keep you so you can't 
possibly escape and become obedient to the members' every wish." 

"I don't believe a word of this. Avis, you're making it up. Please untie my 
hands, they've been tied back there so long." 

Avis did not answer. A silence lengthened. It was one of those silences in 
which Angelique realized everything had already been said. She sat still to 
brood on the impossible while Avis watched anxiously, knowing full well how 
close to impossible it would be for any girl to immediately digest and 
adjust to such news. Angelique herself was wondering how much of it to take 
seriously. She was still inclined to see it as a joke, a tease, but this 
conviction weakened with every passing moment and the sight of her 
companion's face. As though trying to end the impasse, she said flatly, "I 
simply refuse to believe any of it, darling. Where does that leave us?" 

"It leaves you with your hands tied behind your back, my pet, and that's 
where they're going to stay. So we will now go to bed together the way we 
always do. Come along." 

The bound girl wrenched at her cords rebelliously. "I don't want to go to 
bed now. You've spoiled everything with your talk. I don't care if it's a 
tease or not but you've got me out of the mood for anything. Please untie me 
so I can go home. See, I'm trying hard not to be mad." 

Avis took the selection of the Sensuality Club by one bare arm and led her 
to where they would share the night. Angelique had nothing to say about it 
because a handful of her hair was firmly grasped by Avis's other hand and 
she quickly found that it was just too painful to argue. She allowed her 
nudity to be thrust upon the bed where Avis made short work of her hostile 
silence. 

Avis had things well in hand. 

It was one more beginning. 

Awakening was a strange experience for the girl. She had no hands and sadly 
restricted feet, along with memories of a night in which Avis had given all 
of herself to please. Having checked her bonds again, Angelique Martin was 
content to quietly dream until the girl who had bound her hands came awake 
and would no doubt end the stupid tease. Angelique had no doubt of it. 

"We'll both bath together, darling," Avis informed brightly. "That way I can 
wash every little bit of you and get you properly dried and smelling nice. 
Oh, and by the way, I won't untie you. Don't even think about it." 

"I think about it all the time. I want to be untied." 

"Of course you do, darling. But you'll never really be untied again. We know 
it takes you a little time to adjust to, and that's the reason I've been 
elected to break you in. You needn't be frightened with me. You know that 
whatever I tell you is the way it is." 

Angelique wrenched at tied wrists. "This doesn't have to be the way it is. 
Look, Avis, if having me tied this way gives you a kick, if it really makes 
you happy, I'll go along with you. I'll stop trying to get loose and I'll 
stop complaining. But I'll want your promise to untie me before we go to bed 
tonight. I'd say that was a pretty good offer." 

"Of course it would be if freedom was in the cards, darling. But it isn't. 
You'll never be free again and that is going to take you a little while to 
realize. There's no way I'll untie you. No way at all!" 

Momentarily Angelique saw it as time of decision but then realized decision 
was something she no longer possessed. Never in her life had she been so 
helpless, with her hands behind her back there was nothing effective she 
could do. The cords around her wrists imposed an inevitability, something 
final. 

Angelique was strangely grateful for the steel band locked safely around her 
neck. Leather would have chaffed horribly through the night. But now the 
metal collar evoked a compulsion she could well have done without as Avis 
snapped a leash upon the small ring set in the collar. 

"Next thing is breakfast. You can watch me make it." 

A forceful tug made the information a command. 

It appeared the leash had a snap at each end. Reaching the kitchen, Avis 
attached her seething prisoner to a ring already solidly embedded in the 
wall. Beholding this conveyance, Angelique retorted angrily, "You've 
prepared for this, haven't you? You've got everything fixed so you can 
attach me anyplace you want. And there's nothing I can do about it. Avis, 
darling, what's gone wrong? Why are you doing this to me?" 

"Not me, darling, it's the club." 

"Don't give me that! You could set me free right now and that would be the 
end of this whole silly business. I'd have breakfast with you and then go 
home. This isn't fun anymore." 

"Drink your coffee and stop beefing." 

"I can't even lift a cup any more, you'll have to do it for me. I don't want 
to be this way, I just don't! Please!" 

Angelique sat and watch the best friend she had ever had prepare the morning 
meal. There was nothing scrappy about it and the constrained girl sipped 
coffee from a cup lifted for her benefit and ate food from a fork held for 
her. Angelique was hungry and the smell of food was good. The eyes Avis were 
close as she was fed and her revolt against tied wrists diminished with 
every mouthful. 

"That's my girl!" Avis approved affectionately. "Look, darling, Debbie is 
coming to lunch and Betty will drop by for tea. You can talk to them all you 
like and they'll make a report to the rest. It really is an important day." 

"I'll kick and scream." 

"You can't kick, darling. And, if you scream, I can easily stop you be 
putting a gag in your mouth. Gags really do exist, you know, and the club 
has left me several samples in case you prove difficult." 

The naked girl knew she was being tested but she wasn't sure why. But more 
and more the realization of helplessness was becoming a part of her 
awareness of the world as it now existed for her. Deeply hurt, she accused, 
"You trapped me, you persuaded me to let you tie my hands while I thought it 
was just a fun thing. Avis, darling, how could you do such a thing?" 

"Better me than someone else. With someone else you might have fought and 
had to be subdued with force. You wouldn't have liked that and neither would 
I. Believe me, Angelique, my sweet, the way we're doing it is much the best. 
It takes a little longer but saves you getting into a panic." 

Angelique was standing, panting heavily, her arms forever twisting and 
tugging against the cord, while her eyes searched the girl she loved for any 
sign that this was just a joke. There was no such sign. Fretfully, she 
complained, "But, Avis, it's unreal! You're telling me that a bit of cord is 
enough to keep me prisoner all my life, a prisoner to be passed around a 
bunch of sensation-hungry girls. Tell me that's not true." 

For answer Avis held up for inspection the letter by which Miss Angelique 
Martin had resigned her job. And another in which she had canceled the lease 
for her apartment. Angelique read and damned near wept. "You're messing up 
my life! You're making me into a nothing! It's too cruel, I don't believe 
it." 

"You will believe it, dear. Take your time and it will all sink in. Don't 
think about it too much. We've got Betty and Debbie coming and they're bound 
to give you some sort of new perspective. And you always did like them. What 
you have to try and understand is that although we keep you helpless, we all 
love you. We love you just as much as we ever did." 

"Horseshit!" 

Avis grinned. "You have to be feeling badly to use a word like that. But 
it's not horseshit, it's absolutely real. Take it as it comes, darling, 
you'll soon get used to it." 

"No I won't. I won't ever." 

"Stamping your foot that way hurt, didn't it? It's one of the reasons we'll 
always keep you naked. A naked girl has to be careful what she does and 
says. Darling, would it help if I gave you, say, five strokes on the bottom 
with the cane?" 

"No, it wouldn't. Don't even think about it!" 

"If one of the other girls was looking after your tuition, you'd be caned by 
now. None of them would have been as patient as me." 

"Avis, if you love me, set me free. Tell the rest of them I escaped. Or this 
didn't happen. Or anything you like. But, Avis darling, I don't want to be a 
prisoner all my life, not even your prisoner. And I don't want to live in a 
house where there are rings in all the walls to attach slaves to. It reduced 
me to the level of a pet!" 

"That's right, darling, you are a pet. You're my pet and you also belong to 
twenty-five other girls. Even if you don't realize it, you're terribly 
lucky." 

Words were useless. In a frenzy of frustration Angelique heaved and surged 
and tore at bound wrists and roped ankles. Never in her life had she so 
exerted herself towards so urgent a need. Avis stood and watched the twists 
and the wigglings with a clinical eye. The poor darling was taking things 
hard and had an obvious need for an assurance beyond the power of speech. 
Avis fetched the yellow cane. 

The tied girl refused to stand still for punishment. After the first blow, 
with its quite incredible pain, she jumped up to trip and stumble on the rug 
where more cuts imposed venom she had never realized so innocent an object 
could possibly possess. Muttering savagely, Angelique rolled and tried to 
get back on her feet, but the swishing cane found her bottom no matter what 
tactic she employed. After a dozen strokes she heard herself pleading, "Oh, 
stop it! Please stop! Darling, you can't possibly know how much this hurts 
or you wouldn't do it to me. Please stop!" 

Avis tossed away the cane. "This is where I ought to clasp you in my arms 
and kiss and cuddle you until you feel better. But, Angelique, my pet, I'm 
not going to this time. I want you to let pain sink in and understand how 
helpless you've become. What you've just endured can be repeated by any girl 
in the club, in fact, I could start in and whip you all over again." She 
raised the disorganized captive to her feet. "What I want you to do now is 
kneel down, humbly bow your head and tell me you're a sorry, a silly girl, 
and thank me for caning you and ask for forgiveness." 

"You're out of your tree! You sound like one of those cheap books they keep 
under the counter where the haughty heiress gets her just deserts." 
Angelique glared. "It's not me who has to make adjustments, it's you!" 

"Kneel down and get it over with. Darling, I honestly will use the cane on 
you again if you don't." 

With a dry sob and an air of "well, if that's the way you want it," the 
stripped girl sank to her knees and recited her lines in a voice boiling 
over with anger. 

"That tone of voice won't be acceptable, Angelique darling," Avis explained 
patiently. "But you're under stress so I'll let it go. Let me get a hold of 
you, you deserve a hug." 

Angelique was somewhat put off by Avis's approach. This was, after all, her 
best friend. She was taken in loving arms, but the scolding agony of the 
cane was still vivid on her bottom and in her mind. But helplessly she 
allowed herself to be fondled and kissed until she thrust her breasts hard 
against the girl she had always loved, the girl who had imposed the pain. 
Angelique could put no name on what had happened but something was forever 
changed. 

Bemusedly she remember the knowledge of good and evil back in Eden, and drew 
a parallel. The strips now on her skin, which any one of twenty-five girls 
could repeat at will, created a vast gap compared to the Angelique of two 
days past She found herself crying on Avis's shoulder and sobbing in Avis's 
ear. "What's going to become of me! Oh, Avis, what's happening?" After a 
tearful pause, "Please untie my hands." 

The Sensuality Club had made a wise choice in Avis Bonner as the girl most 
capable of breaking Angelique's natural rebellion without brutality. They 
wanted Angelique to comfort to a pattern in their sisterhood fantasy before 
being passed from one to the other for the pleasure of all. The Sensuality 
Club wanted two things from the chosen girl, submission and obedience. 
Telling Avis to put the girl into circulation when she was satisfied 
Angelique met this criteria. Perhaps they claimed to love Angelique, perhaps 
they did. But they were imposing upon her equal parts of slavery with that 
love. They felt awe in their own concept of a young woman utterly unique in 
the loyalties she could be forced to acknowledge. 

Angelique's sobbing slowly died. Avis guided the hobbled girl to the waiting 
couch where the two girls sat side by side, one naked and bound, one fully 
clothed and free, to gaze upon each other in discovery. Avis estimated the 
distance Angelique had traveled down the appointed path. The girl with tied 
hands tossed away thought of freedom or being teased. For the first time 
Angelique Martin was catching a glimpse of herself as the Sensuality Club 
desired. As yet it was only a glimpse but it was there, and the cord 
securing her wrists seemed alive with intent. Everything had changed. 

For the girl who now acknowledged herself a prisoner, there remained 
uppermost in her mind a fierce determination to escape, something she could 
no longer achieve by the good graces of Avis Bonner. She must contrive it by 
herself. Surely she could not become a prisoner for life because of a cord 
around her wrists, surely there it could not be so! 

She twisted her wrists as she had done before but got back only a message of 
helpless as she had before. With an anger she dared not show, she determined 
never to allow the word helpless to become hopeless. Resignation to 
captivity was something she could not yet consider. Slowly she said to her 
companion, "I still love you, Avis, I don't know why. Not after what you've 
done. I don't want you to stop loving me. But what comes next? What are you 
going to do?" 

"First off, I'm not going to untie your hands. You absolutely must 
understand that, Angelique, dear. Your hands are nicely tied and they'll 
stay that way. I'm positive you can't get them loose. The same goes for your 
feet. I love you every bit as much as I used to. But I have to ... well, I 
have to implore you to believe what I've just said. Stop thinking about your 
hands, or your hobbled feet. These things are a part of your life now, part 
of the new Angelique Martin." 

"I just heard a door. Someone's come into the apartment!" Angelique was 
suddenly tense. 

"That's Possie, the maid, she's come to make lunch. Or have you forgotten, 
Debbie? She'll be here in an hour." 

"Oh, no!" Angelique was once more thrown into disarray, her voice a cry of 
shame. "You're going to let Debbie see me like this. Oh, Avis, please!" 

"Why not?" 

"Because I'm naked and because my hands are tied behind my back. That's why 
not!" the reluctant captive explained. "I'll simply die if Debbie sees me 
like this. She'll laugh her head off, and go back and tell off the girls. 
And she'll guess about you and me for sure. I don't want any lunch. Let me 
hide." 

"You really must stop these emotional turmoil's, darling," Avis said evenly. 
"You got to remember Debbie is a member of the club, she's a girl who's 
going to own you now and then. I always thought you liked each other." 

"Yes, we do, but not with me naked and tied the way you've got me!" 

"Don't be silly, it's all in your head. At lunch Debbie is going to feed you 
the way I've been doing. You needn't think you're going to be a recluse 
because you're tied. 

"Oh, by the way, about Possie, she's in on the whole thing and there's no 
use getting after her to untie your wrists. Possie will be as polite to you 
as ever but there's no way she'll help you escape. Understand?" 

She was in a net closing tighter and tighter every moment. The club had 
thought of everything, there was no escape! Sulky, Angelique awaited her 
next ordeal. 

Debbie Duval was ebony to Angelique's gold. She was thirty years old, swift, 
decisive, and intelligent. She surveyed the captive Angelique with complete 
approval. "She's positively darling, Avis. Give you any trouble?" 

"Only twelve strokes. But she's not the least bit reconciled. She's been 
sulky for the last hour when she found out you were going to see her naked 
and tied." 

"If you think I enjoy having you see me like this, you're crazy, Debbie," 
Angelique interjected angrily. "I don't seem able to do anything about it, 
but sooner or later ... !" 

"Turn around Angie, I want to see the tie." 

Angelique caught Avis's warning glance and with ill-grace turned around to 
flap bound hands, demonstrating helplessness and distress, kicking snubbed 
ankles with the same intent. "I think you're all being terribly unkind. I 
hope you're ashamed of yourselves." She shot the newcomer a questioning 
glance. "I suppose it's no use asking you to untie me?" 

"Not a bit, darling. And, in any case I wouldn't infringe upon Avis's rights 
and privileges. You belong to Avis until she passes you on. By the time you 
reach me, you'd better be well trained or you'll quickly become 
well-marked." 

"I'm told you're going to feed me at lunch, can't you imagine how I must 
feel about all this!" 

"It's not how you feel about us but how we feel about you from now on. And, 
Angelique, my sweet, you'd best remember that." 

Lunch diminished Angelique's sulk. After all, she knew these two girl so 
well. And after she'd gotten used to Debbie seeing her naked and touching 
her body, what was it if another girl saw her too? At the lunch she was 
terribly conscious of her breasts in their prominence above the plate placed 
before her. But after Debbie had pinched pert nipples and commented on the 
superb contours of the twin mounds Angelique could not hide, the shyness 
wore away until it seemed quite natural to have her hands tied behind her 
back and to be fed by a girl who was, after all, an old friend. Miss 
Angelique Martin said nothing to offend but quietly bided her time. 
Something, she told herself, had to break sometime. Surely ... 

"The Club spent all that money on those handcuffs and leg irons and such, 
when are you going to use them on her?" Debbie inquired over coffee. 

"I think she's better tied the way she is for the time being. There's 
something very final about handcuffs and such. Maybe after she's learned to 
accept what she's become." 

"That's right, talk about me like I was a package of nothing," Angelique 
sniffed disgustedly. 

"You'll never be a nothing, Angelique. What you will be is a gorgeous body, 
gorgeous hair, and a gorgeous face. You'll make a marvelous slave when you 
get used to the idea." 

"I'll never get used to it. Forget it, I'm me, and I refuse to be any girl's 
baby doll." 

"The handcuffs will be nice for her, Avis, as well as those leg irons. What 
a lovely combination they make! I'm glad we got an assortment with varying 
lengths and weights of chain we can use. Every time she changes ownership 
the whole collection must go along." 

"You're going to keep me in chains!" Shock and shame mantled captive cheeks. 
"Isn't that going a bit far? It sounds like the dark ages. Or are you just 
trying to scare me?" 

"They're for you own good, dear," Debbie explained patiently. "They'll be 
much more comfortable than rope and cord and they're also escape-proof. But 
what's best about them is they're permanent. Once you're locked in them you 
can stay that way forever. You ought to be grateful." 

Angelique sniffed again, her voice loaded with doubt, "That's very funny. 
And I suppose you've got a fine assortment of whips?" 

"I forgot to mention them," Debbie admitted. "We made what we think is a 
nice selection in that area, I mean there's no Russian knouts or South 
African Sjamboks, but just nice leather things to keep you in line. And 
quite a number of canes and riding crops. Most of the riding crops are not 
for riding at all," Debbie giggled. "I did wonder as we looked at them who 
they were really made for. I do suppose they were really made for girls." 

"Gee, thanks! I'm sure I'll love them all." 

"Debbie is trying to get you accustomed to the idea of these things which 
must sound absolutely bizarre," Avis said anxiously. "You're not being told 
about the chains or whips as a tease or to get you scared. They're simply a 
useful way to help you get accustomed to being a slavegirl ..." 

"Is there a torture chamber in my future? It sounds as if there will be." 

"Don't be angry with the poor girl, Debbie, she's going through a lot of 
stress and I think she's handling things as well as we can expect. Best not 
to harp on the whips and crops and things, because they won't be used on her 
all that much." 

"They won't be used on me at all, and you're a pair of dreamers. This thing 
can't possibly last," the bound and nude girl interjected forcibly. 

"Hush, darling, you mustn't be rude to Debbie. You mustn't forget that 
you're subject to discipline and none of the club members want to be called 
names." 

The sometimes heated exchange lasted on through the afternoon with Angelique 
becoming increasingly aware of authority. She could say nothing that was not 
gently corrected or drew a reprimand. Summing it up later she realized for 
sure her afternoon with Debbie had taken her a step deeper into a condition 
she did not wish to name. When Debbie departed, Betty Harmon took her place. 

Betty Harmon was something else again. Angelique was kissed and hugged and 
pawed. Betty Harmon was very much physical with a keen concern over female 
features and how heated the female was by discussion of intimate subjects 
and the bondage place upon her. Although she grabbed private parts of 
Angelique in a very overbearing manner, Betty had a sweetness all her own 
and did not inspire fear. 

"Get me out of this, Betty!" Angelique demanded loudly. "You've felt me up 
all over so now you can untie my hands." 

"Isn't she absolutely sweet!" Betty bubbled. "I see you've whipped her, 
Avis, and I'm sure it was a good idea. Are you certain she couldn't stand 
another dose? It's the cane you used, wasn't it?" 

"Betty, not you too!" Angelique exclaimed. "All afternoon I'm been hearing 
about whips and chains and things. Untie my hands and we'll all go home." 

Once more the captive was turned around that an interested visitor might 
examine the cords which held her helpless. They were duly admired and the 
girl they bound was admonished to stop asking to be untied. Possie served 
cocktails before dinner and the captive girl was alternately attended by one 
or the other of her two mistresses and she gratefully gulped more alcohol 
than she normally would had. With the loosening of her inhibitions, the 
conversation became increasingly frank. 

"Avis, have you told the poor dear some of the girls will compel her to 
service their boyfriends?" Betty giggled. "Or perhaps the butler?" 

"No, I haven't and I wasn't going to. I wish you hadn't mentioned it, Betty. 
Angelique is doing her best to cope but we mustn't overload her. Just look 
at her, you've scared her half to death." 

"You have to be joking!" said Angelique, knowing full well it was no joke. 
"You wouldn't do that to me, I know you wouldn't! That's horrid!" 

"Leave it at that," Avis interrupted quickly. "If one of the members decides 
to give you as gift to a man, it's just part of what you may expect. Don't 
dwell upon it, it may never happen." 

"Damn it, that's rape!" 

"Not for a slavegirl," purred Avis. 

The captive girl had one too many cocktails and assured her captors in no 
uncertain way that they were dealing with fire and would probably end up in 
prison. At some length she explain her disappointment in their behavior, and 
on a number occasions requested that they untie her hands, a request which 
always was ignored. The tied maiden hobbled her short, snubbed steps to the 
dinner table, falling only once upon the way. She assured her captors that 
picking her up served them right for treating her in this outrageous 
fashion. With Betty plying Angelique's knife and fork, the nude prisoner ate 
hungrily and paid no more attention to any further mention of cane or crop 
or cord. Far back in her mind, Angelique held a small hope the whole thing 
might prove a great, big tease. 

The nights were a bonus Angelique could not deny. Surprisingly, bound hands 
and hobbled ankles hindered nothing, but did in fact lead to giggles and 
laughter and a return to the love bond nothing had yet severed. The two 
girls gave and received hot flesh and skin slithering in sweat. They slept 
like logs. 

Thus Miss Angelique Martin, upon the fourth day of captivity, came to a 
confrontation with herself. 

It was easily summed up. She could free neither hands nor feet, the 
penthouse held her helpless. Anyway, the entire building was owned by Avis. 
In this building, everyone would bow to Avis's wishes, probably even to the 
point of returning her slavegirl should she manner to escape the penthouse. 
Avis's use of the cane upon her skin had made a more potent impression than 
Angelique wanted to admit. In its way, it was a far more forcible statement 
of what the Sensuality Club required than even bound hands. And goodness 
knows, they had become potent enough as hour followed hour and day followed 
day with them still tight in Avis's original tie. Escape had become 
impossible. 

The tied girl, now left alone for considerable periods, was coming to regard 
the cord upon her wrists as a part of herself and almost an old friend. She 
no longer expected to be freed and recognized this loss of hope as wickedly 
significant in her condition. It had been shameful and humiliating to have 
to stand while visitor interestedly amused themselves with her body, their 
comments as disgraceful as their hands. 

"What a wonderful thatch of pubic hair! The poor darling will be lucky if 
she keeps it, one of the girls is sure to shave it off." 

"We should have rings inserted in her nipples. They do a lot for a girl. 
And, of course, there's always her nose. A nose ring is really something." 

Such comments had become commonplace and Angelique refused to allow herself 
to become frightened by them, but sought the comfort of Avis as a child 
seeks its mother. And that comfort was always there. She loved Avis very 
much. 

Angelique Martin made the acquaintance of handcuffs on the sixth day. 

It was a day the slavegirl would always remember. 

 Chapter 2 Joined Wrists 

The suitcase was innocent enough, its contents were not. Angelique viewed 
the pile of chrome and steel that fell from it with a thrill of dismay and 
to the tune of Avis's laughter. 

"You'll be so much more comfortable in this, Angelique, my pet. And I think 
they'll have a psychological effect. Let's try them out. Which pair of leg 
irons would you chose?" 

"I don't want any of them. Take them away." 

"Aren't you tired of these old ropes?" 

"I sure am but I'm not going to like that stuff any better. Avis, darling, 
please stop this nonsense." 

Avis Bonner paid no heed. Darling Angelique was coming along nicely, but 
constant spasms of revolt were to be expected. She would deal with them 
kindly. She now selected a pair of leg irons with a short but heavy chain. 
"Watch what I'm going to do, Angelique. Just think, for half a minute you're 
going to have free feet! For goodness sake, behave." 

It was Angelique's first step into an uncharted land. She could not deny a 
thrill as she watched the untying of the rope from her bare ankles. She was 
conscious of breathing heavily as the rope, which had served its purpose 
well, was cast aside and Avis picked up her choice of irons. All Angelique 
could think to say was, "Please don't. Oh, Avis, please don't lock those 
things on me!" He voice was close to breaking. 

Avis Bonner carefully adjusted the chrome circlets and clicked them shut to 
form a tight, neat band upon each ankle. "There, surely that's a lot better! 
Or would you prefer I used the rope again?" 

Angelique sniffed sulkily. .She was not going to admit to any kind of 
preference for begin bound or chained in any fashion. She wanted out! All 
she could think to say was, "Well, if that amuses you ..." 

"You're hands are the real test, sweetheart, I have to free them before I 
can use the handcuffs." She was looking at her captive doubtfully. "Are you 
going to give me trouble?" 

"Suppose I do?" 

"I'll whip you." 

So simple! So easy to weaken Angelique's resolve. 

"Go ahead and do what you like," Angelique said despondently. "I know I 
can't beat you. Go ahead, I'll behave." 

It was beautifully simple, even the girl who now wore metal instead of rope 
had to admit the convenience. And felt an absurd affection for the cord she 
had worn upon her wrists for the five days as it was cast aside. It was a 
new and quite strange thrill to feel the chromed steel close around her 
wrists and click shut. She wished she had thought to ask permission to 
stretch her arms but quickly it was too late. Then it occurred to her that 
these iron shackles might just remain on her forever. For the first time in 
this strange captivity, the thoughts of teasing and practical jokes 
dissolved to be replaced by a new reality. She could never free herself from 
these chains and would never know where Avis kept the key. It was a solemn 
thought she now voiced, "You really mean this, Avis. You and the club 
members are never going to let me free. You've got me and you're going to 
keep me." Her voice took on a tone of wonder. "And it's so easy, so damnably 
easy! All you have to do is buy a pair of handcuffs and that's the end of 
Angelique." 

"You've got that wrong, darling, it's not the end but the beginning. From 
now on you'll live with an intensity you've never realized. When one of us 
makes love to you, it's going to be twice as good. Darling, I'm thrilled to 
bits. Give me a smile." 

Since the final click of the locks, Angelique had been testing the metal by 
which she was now held prisoner. It was smooth and held her with a firm grip 
and a certainty which said all too clearly she could stop tugging and 
twisting. But that she knew she would never do, it would always be a testing 
of a captivity she must somehow escape. She gave Avis the requested smile 
and said, "You've really got me. You and the girls have got me forever. This 
is the first time I've really believed ..." 

"They really feel good?" 

"Yes, if I have to be a prisoner, they feel good." 

"Try walking." 

Each careful step produced a metallic jingle before the chain snapped taut. 
Except for the" sound, there was little difference from the rope. Of course 
the rope could be cut, whereas the heavy chain could not. Angelique was 
still practicing when they received a visitor. 

"I simply couldn't wait. I've been simply dying of curiosity since I got the 
news. Avis, you're simply wonderful!" Dark eyes flashed and black hair was 
swept aside as one more member of the club drank in the chained and lovely 
girl she would one day own. Isabel Travis was entranced. 

"I've just handcuffed her for the first time. Quite something, isn't she?" 

Angelique's blush was not as vivid as before, she was beginning to wear 
nakedness like an invisible cloak. She stood passive as the newcomer ogled 
her handcuffed wrists and leg-ironed ankles. Isabel Travis took Angelique's 
head in her hands and looked deeply into captive eyes. 

"Tell me, dear, how it feels to know you'll never be free again. We own 
you." 

Angelique debated refusing to speak, but why deny herself the pleasure of 
these two vivid girls who, expect for a few clothes and a couple of bits of 
metal, were the same as she! "It's frightening, you've no right to do it to 
me." Her retort was an explosive bitterness, "I hate it!" 

"You don't really, you just think you do." Isabel's laugh was catchy. "We 
all knew it would be a shock for you but I think you're doing fine. I see 
Avis has whipped you?" 

"Yes, a real fun thing. She does it with a long, yellow cane." Once more the 
bitterness burned bright 

"I expect we'll have to whip you a lot to get rid of that anger and 
resentment, darling. I've been reading up on the subject, dear, and the whip 
or the cane is sure fire! But, isn't it nice to know we'll never be brutal?" 

"I wish you'd all come to your senses and let me go." 

"That's a song she sings constantly," Avis explained apologetically. "I 
could probably whip it out of her but I expect she'll wear it out herself." 

"I love the way you girls talk about me as if I'm not here, or as though I'm 
a bag of potatoes," Angelique said sarcastically. "If you girls want to play 
this silly game, you should take turns with one of you submitting herself 
for seven days every twenty-fifth week. I don't see why you have to pick on 
me for my entire life, you'll be bored stiff with me by the end of a year." 

Isabel turned shining eyes to Avis, "Shall I tell her?" 

"Sure, why not?" 

Isabel playfully pinched an unprotected nipple. "We'll never get tired of 
you, darling, I'm sure you know that. But we're not going to have you carry 
the whole load. You're our prototype, we're going to learn a whole lot from 
you. And when you've got really settled down, and stop this silly business 
of thinking of escape and what a rotten deal you've got, when you're exactly 
as we want you, we'll get a second slavegirl and let you train her for us! 
You will, won't you, dear?" 

"No, I won't!" But stuck by a sudden thought, Angelique added, "Not unless 
you draw lots and she's one of your twenty-five members. I'd like that." 

"That's still under debate, darling. If none of the members want to take the 
chance, we'll pick up an outsider." 

"You'll kidnap a girl? You're crazy!" 

"But what's the difference? You're every bit as much kidnapped as if we 
picked you up at the beach or the park." 

"You'll all get yourselves into trouble," Angelique sounded pleased. "When 
you're all in prison, I'll come on visitors day and remind you about right 
now. And ask you how you like handcuffs. And what's it like to see 
everything through bars." Angelique sniffed. "That's what's going to happen 
if you don't watch out." 

"Oh, we're watching out alright, we've made you disappear as if you never 
happened. Darling, what does it feel like to be whipped?" 

"I don't want to talk about it. You're only asking to get yourself excited. 
If you really want to know what it's like, I'm sure Avis will cane your 
bottom, why don't you take your clothes off and ask her nicely?" 

"My, my, she is adjusting!" Isabel's exclamation was filled with admiration. 
"Angelique, you're far too pert and impudent. When it comes my turn to own 
you, I've got this darling little whip you'll just flip over. It will cure 
you completely. I'll see if I can't talk the girls into letting me have you 
right after Avis." 

"Isabel, you're forgetting, she's been a prisoner less than a week. Today's 
the first time she's been handcuffed. By the time I'm through with the 
sweetheart, she'll be a lot different than she is right now. How would you 
feel if you were in her shoes?" 

Isabel Travis laughed. "Okay, okay, I know I'm a bit of a bitch. But dear 
little Angelique needs a lot more than you've done. If you're squeamish 
about it, how about letting me do it? She needs training." 

"Wait your turn, Isabel, right now she belongs to me and I'll use a cane on 
her when I think she's ready. You would beat Angelique purple and get 
nowhere. Hold your horses." 

The handcuffed girl felt tension slip away. Avis was sweet. Isabel had 
always been fun but the naked captive shivered at the thought of being 
delivered to her in this state of helplessness. Angelique felt a wave of 
thankfulness for the way things were. 

"When you get me, I'll be tremendously obedient, Isabel," she assured 
earnestly. "I won't give you a single reason for punishment, I'll be very 
well behaved, I promise." 

The avowal earned a kiss. "I'm sure you mean that, honey, but for sure I'll 
find some excuse to whip you so you might as well get used to the idea. Gee, 
I wish my turn wasn't so far down the line." She turned to Avis, "Are you 
sure you wouldn't like me to give our little Angelique a small thrashing?" 

"Quite sure. But thanks anyway " 

Isabel was saddened but not upset. Her roving mind seized upon another 
opportunity to make the captive cringe. "Avis, shall I tell her about that 
other thing I spoke of?" 

"You will anyway, so go ahead." 

This time Isabel pinched both defenseless nipples and kissed the naked girl 
full upon the lips. "I'm getting my money's worth in thinking about the 
things I'm going to do to you, and with you, when I get you. I've thought of 
the nicest thing I'm sure you're going to hate. One of the things is that 
I'll make a gift of you for one hour to my boy friend. How does that grab 
you?" 

Angelique shrugged. "I can be thankful I'm not a virgin. Really, Isabel, 
aren't you carrying this too far? If you actually did that, it would be 
rape." 

"Who are you going to tell?" 

"Isabel ... please don't do it. I suppose you'd deliver me to him chained 
the way I am right now so he can rape me to his heart's content. I think 
that's disgusting." 

The voice of Avis was soothing, "Someone had to tell you about this, 
Angelique, and I suppose it might as well be Isabel or I would have had to 
tell you myself. The thing was discussed among the girls. The general 
feeling was that it would be a really erotic kick none of them could resist. 
I don't know how often it will happen but it's there." 

"Gosh, Avis, you really are a sissy, you're going about this all wrong. I'd 
have the darling whipped and in shape in no time. There's no need to take 
your whole thirty days to bring her around. It's a good thing there's 
twenty-five or the poor dear would never get herself anywhere." She turned 
to Angelique and smiled. "You do want all the experiences you can get out of 
this, don't you dear?" 

"I want to go home," said Angelique flatly. 

Isabel said her goodbyes and departed. It was impossible to dislike Isabel, 
she was so vividly alive and curious about everyone she met. In spite of 
assurances of shame and pain, Angelique found herself wondering what it 
would be like when she was delivered as a chained captive to the dark-eyed 
girl who wished to whip her and whip her hard. She did not know but would 
undoubtedly find out. In the meantime there was Avis Bonner, the girl she 
loved who was also the girl who had whipped her with a long, wicked yellow 
cane. None of it made sense and Angelique Martin wondered what the final 
results would be. Would they, could they, really keep her a prisoner all her 
life? Even when she ceased being an attractive young women? 

Angelique tugged at steel-clad wrists and knew they could indeed keep her 
prisoner. She turned to the only friend she had, "Hold me for a little 
while, Avis, darling. Isabel scared me. These handcuffs scare me. I've been 
turned into a frightened little girl. I can't face forever." 

For large portions of each weekday, Avis Bonner looked after the estate 
inherited from her father, an estate comprising the entire building in which 
they lived and several others. Such an estate demanded supervision, and 
while the owner was busy with these duties she left Angelique along without 
even the cheerful unconcern of Possie. Possie enjoyed two or three hours of 
liberty each afternoon before returning to make the evening meal. Possie was 
alright as a companion when available, but showed no pity or desire to help. 

"I don't see why you's beefing, Angelique. I thinks you got it good," she 
explained patiently. "You girls are all rich and you gets to live in nice 
penthouses like this. And all you had to do for a living is wear them 
handcuffs. I wish I could be so lucky." 

"Then why don't we trade, Possie? You can wear my handcuffs and I'll go 
home." 

"That's plum silly, Miss Angelique, and you knows it is. Ain't no way I'm 
going to get you loose even if I could. Ain't go no key so that's the end of 
that. If I tell Miss Bonner 'bout what you said, she'll whip your ass." 

"You may think I've got it good, Possie, but I'll tell you it's just plain 
horrible." 

"You ain't never been poor, that's why," Possie affirmed with feeling. "All 
you got to do is sit around and look pretty while I gots to work my ass off 
'cause I got Ma and Pa to look after. And there's all that rent-shit! Them 
handcuffs don't amount to nothing." 

It was a point of view which led Angelique to the comforting reflection that 
things could always be worse. Perhaps being terribly poor was worse than 
having your hands cuffed behind your back. She would never know. Possie's 
"No Help" policy was daunting, leaving the chained girl in a claustrophobic 
isolation. 

"You gals don't know what it's like to be the way I is. You ain't never done 
a lick of work, an' you don't have to get up at five o'clock to do two jobs. 
If Miss Bonner offered me a hundred bucks to cane my ass, I'd grab it so 
damned quick!" 

"Would you like me to suggest it, Possie?" 

"I already done that. She said it weren't no good that way. She give me the 
hundred but I never felt right about it." 

"I'll give you a thousand to let me loose, Possie." 

"Yeah. Ah bet you would. And then I wouldn't have no job and there'll be 
twenty-five gals looking to make me trouble. You stay the way you is. Miss 
Angelique and think yourself lucky. Gosh, nothing to do but nibble a girl's 
what's-it!" 

"Would you do that, Possie? I mean, with your wrists handcuffed behind your 
back and your feet chained together?" 

"Gosh, yes! Just give me the change. I'd do whenever she wanted and I'd do 
it good. The rest of the time I'd sleep. You ain't got no idea how lucky you 
is." 

"But I've been told some of the members will whip me and others will give me 
to a man. You wouldn't want that." 

"You're so damned fussy," Possie complained. "A little whipping don't hurt 
no girl none. My old man used to belt into me real proper with a strap he 
left hanging on the wall. He'd warm my ass so bad I'd cry myself to sleep. 
But it ain't nothing to worry about. I got so I sort of enjoyed the first 
few swats. And, as for them handcuffs, if you ain't doing nothing, what's 
the difference?" 

Possie had a logic all her own. It was hard to refute, comprising as it did, 
a commentary upon the life and times of a black girl without either 
influence or cash. In it also was some faint comfort for Miss Angelique 
Martin who still hoped the-black girl might be a path to freedom. Angelique 
wondered if Possie knew where the key was hidden. On the next occasion she 
voiced the question. 

"If you can find the key to these chains Avis has locked on me and can set 
me free, I think I can gather five thousand dollars real quick. Please give 
me my freedom." 

"No way, Miss Angelique. And, anyway, I don't know where the key is." 

"You could buy one." 

"Maybe I could but I ain't going to. Miss Bonner, she been real good to me, 
and what's more she told me you were gonna to try and put ideas in my head 
jus' like you're doing right now. I'm suppose to let her know. I'll bet if I 
were to tell her what you said, she'd lace into you real good. And I ain't 
so sure it won't be good for you." 

The five thousand was the best Angelique could manage. She abandoned Possie 
as a channel to escape. The black girl was fun to talk to but that was all. 

"Possie tells me you offered her a bribe if she would help you escape," Avis 
said casually. "Is that right, darling?" 

"Yes, wouldn't you do the same?" 

"I should whip you." 

"Go ahead." 

"I'll think about it. But if it's all still new to you and I absolutely must 
make allowances for the way you feel. You're right, I would have asked 
Possie, too. But that doesn't alter the fact that the club expects me to 
whip such notions out of your pretty head. They want you so you don't even 
think of escape, let along proportion Possie." 

"All right, I'll leave Possie alone. But, darling, what's the next item on 
our agenda, I get so terribly bored when I'm alone here in the afternoon? 
Sitting on the couch, naked and chained, seem such an awful waste. Avis, 
don't you understand, this is my life." 

"Very well, supposing I come home early and cane your bottom every day 
before dinner. Would that make you feel better?" 

"Oh, Avis, please! We always get back to the damned cane, and I'm beginning 
to think you're as bad as Isabel. She would have cut me to bits with it. And 
you mention it once or twice every day." 

Angelique wrinkled her nose. "I know I'm chained so I can't do anything but 
I really suppose I'm behaving rather well. I've become obedient to the point 
of nausea. I no longer ask anyone to unlock my hands. Where do we go from 
here?" 

"Tomorrow's Saturday so I won't be going to the office. I could start your 
training." 

"What do you mean 'training'? I'm trained already. Good gosh, everything's 
happened to me so what else is up your sleeve?" 

"Oh, Angelique, I'm so sorry I'm the way I am." Avis paused as she thought. 
"Minding your Ps and Q's comes next, sweetheart. As well as a few touches of 
humiliate which, right now, you're not all that strong on." 

The Sensuality Club's captive maiden did a lot of wondering about the word 
'Training" but said no more and asked no questions. When the fatal moment 
came she was troubled by sight of the yellow cane. Avis Bonner meant 
business, 

"Darling, your kneeling posture needs a bit of polishing up," she said 
casually. "Kneel down and I'll give you a few pointers because this is the 
first thing every girl will expect." 

"Do I have to?" 

The answer was swift and painful. The yellow cane cut bitterly across an 
unprepared bottom. The pain was terrible, and when Miss Angelique Martin 
returned to normal, she wasted no time in falling to her knees. Her only 
comment was, "I think you're mean." 

"You took that cut well, Angelique, I expected tears." 

"I haven't any left. What do I do now?" 

"Try and get a touch of humility in both your mind and your pose. Keep your 
knees wide apart and bow your head." 

Angelique obeyed. But her breasts were heaving rebelliously, her wrists busy 
with shinning steel. Her remark was to be expected, "Shall I lick your shoes 
or something?" 

Sarcasm earned a second stroke, this one squarely across the lovely, naked 
back to send its owner jerking onto the floor in agony. But with the easing 
of the bitter scold, Angelique got back into position and was silent. If her 
breasts had heaved before, they were doubly active now. 

The mistress viewed in pity her unwilling subject. No doubt Isabel had been 
right, Angelique was rebellious and inclined to sarcasm. Avis found herself 
trembling in strange sensations of her own as she surveyed the scarlet strip 
she had placed upon the lovely skin of the submissive girl. It was 
beautiful, there was no other word for it! Crisply, she recited what was 
expected of slavegirls who knelt and bowed their but only to be countered by 
Angelique's pained exclamation, "But, Avis darling, do we have to deal in 
all this nonsense?" 

As though by magic the third scarlet line sprang into terrible relief across 
Angelique's skin. This time she screamed. When the scream died down, she had 
to admit, "Alright, you've made your point! I'll stop being lippy and do 
what I'm told. Please don't hit me again, you simply have no idea how awful 
it is. What do you want me to do next?" 

"Get back into the kneeling position and name those parts of yourself I'm 
going to touch." 

Avis Bonner felt a bitch. But if she could conclude this job without giving 
Angelique more than three strokes, she could consider the time well spent 
and the penalty no more than to be expected. She tried to keep the strange 
passion she felt from her voice, "Kneel, keep your back straight, and name 
those portions of yourself I'm going to touch." 

Angelique longed for tears, for screams, and above all, her freedom. Instead 
she quietly did as she was told, awaiting the touch of the quivering cane! 
Avis teased a frightened nipple. 

"Name it," the demand was not to be ignored. 

"A nipple. I've got two of them, one on each breast." 

The tip of the cane now made a winder circle to encompass a firm, youthful 
mound. "And what's this?" 

"It's my breast, I have two of those as well." 

"It has other names, use them." 

"They get called all sorts of things. Mostly it's boobs, or cans, or 
knockers. I hate them all." 

"But if I told you to shake your knockers, you'd know what I meant?" 

"Yes, I know." 

The tip of the cane explored once more. "Name this, Angelique." 

"It's my navel. I never did discover what it's for but it's there. You've 
got one, too." 

The forth stroke two and three across the back. The owner of that back 
moaned dismally upon the rug before getting back to her knees. She said 
abjectly, "I'm sorry, Avis, I really am." 

"But you wouldn't be if I hadn't struck you." 

"No, I suppose not. But, Avis, I am trying." 

"Watch it!" 

This time the tip of the cane played idly within the very private silken 
fronds. "Come along, name it." 

"That's my pubic hair." The chained girl dared say no other word. 

"And this?" 

"There's all sorts of names for it. Would be enough if I just say it's my 
pussy'?" 

"No. Give me more." 

"It's my twat, my cunt, my snatch. A doctor would call it my vagina." The 
young voice registered a slight break. "I thinks there's also nats, and pub, 
and there's also slit." Hurt eyes met the mistress in anguished appeal. "Oh, 
Avis, that's all I can think of and I'm not even sure about all them. Did I 
please you?" 

It went on. Angelique had never realized how many parts of herself were of 
interest to others, nor how many names there were for them. What mattered 
was that there were no more vivid strokes across her back and her bottom 
burned under only a single mark. When it was done she was fondled and kissed 
most comfortingly by loving arms and tender lips. She knew she must obey. 
Both girls know the training session a success. 

It was a somber reflection for the Sensuality Club's captive girl that 
everything now took her one more step away from the free life she had once 
led. The cane imposed a great deal of instruction to help her on that path 
from freedom. She tried to hate Avis Bonner but could not. The club had 
clearly mapped a course for the training of its slave and Avis would 
interrupt that course as kindly as possible. It was questionable if other 
girls who would get her would be as kind. The thought arose in her mind, 
"Avis, am I a member of the Sensuality Club?" 

"Of course, dear, and with all the rights and privileges." 

"I haven't noticed any privileges or rights. What they've done to me is an 
outrage." 

"You best not tell them so. They're getting a big bang out of it being an 
outrage, but they don't want to hear it from you. Darling, the club is 
holding a meeting at Dorothy Dawson's place tomorrow. Would you like to go?" 

"I can't possibly go anywhere like this. Or could I possibly have my hands 
back? And some clothes?" 

"No clothes, and no hands, Angelique, dear. But there's no trick to getting 
you to Dorothy's place and back again. You'll never be free, not ever, but 
that doesn't mean you won't be taken around. We'll probably have a short 
meeting tomorrow, and you'll be entitled to a vote, the same as me." 

"Twenty-five girls all staring at my body! No thanks!" 

"Wouldn't it be better than sitting her alone? You say you're lonely when 
I'm away. In fact, sweetheart, I won't allow you a decision, I'll take you 
to the meeting and that's the end of it." 

Angelique did not argue. To be taken from the penthouse would be an event. 
There would be a ride in a car. No doubt she would be covered by a blanket 
or something but there might also be some happy change opportunity to find 
help or hobble far enough to hide! It was a very small hope for freedom but 
it burned with a flame. Angelique found herself excited at the prospect and 
wondered how deep her blush was going to be. 

One of the benefits of owning the building was the private elevator to .the 
penthouse. Confronted by its open door, Angelique balked. "You can't take me 
in there like this. Avis!" She tugged at handcuffed wrists and kicked her 
chain. 

"Why not? It's my building and my elevator. We go straight to the garage." 

"Well, yes, I know, but aren't you going to cover me?" 

"Don't be silly, Angelique, the club wants you naked and that's the way 
you're going to be. Do you want me to get the cane?" 

"No, never mind." She took short, hobbled steps into the unknown. There was 
none to view as she was inserted into Avis's car and laid face down on the 
back seat to have the leg-iron chain drawn up to handcuffed wrists and there 
fastened to take away initiate. 

"It's not all that far and if you lay there quietly, you'll be comfortable," 
Avis admonished. "But if you struggle and fall on the floor, I'll leave you 
there." 

"But, Avis, this is a hogtie!" 

"A very mild one,. Stop beefing." 

"But suppose we have an accident or something? I can hardly move. And, 
anyway, I hate laying on my face like this." 

Avis started the motor. 

The invisible cloak which protected Angelique in the penthouse now dissolved 
beneath the bright eyed stares of twenty-five pairs of expectant eyes. It 
had been Isabel Travis who came up with the inspiration of having the 
Sensuality Club's latest possession stand on the platform at the end of the 
big room for them all to see and to deliver a short speech on the subject of 
being a chained and naked slavegirl. A displayed cane assured that she would 
feel like public speaking at this time. Her further cooperation was assured 
by Isabel's guiding her up the steps and then standing to one side with the 
cane in hand. The naked girl stared back at the twenty-five girls who had 
been her friends and wished the floor would open and swallow her up. This 
was nakedness and helplessness for sure! 

"I think you're all mean!" Shyness fled, the handcuffs and her nakedness was 
forgotten in a vital need to make these girls under the seriousness of their 
actions. "I wish everyone of you could be the way you see me now. You 
wouldn't like it one little bit. You don't have a right to take away my 
life, to keep me chained and naked for you amusement. The only reason I'm up 
here making this silly speech is because you'll whip me if I don't. You can 
make me do or say anything by whipping me. It's not fair." 

The applause was spontaneous and undoubtedly sincere to tell the girl on the 
stage most clearly that they heartily approved of her status and spirit. It 
was the death knell of liberty. Angelique became more heated. "You've made 
me helpless, there's very little I can do for myself. I have to be fed like 
a baby, and bathed like a child. If I say something wrong, I'm punished. If 
it happened to you, you'd hate it every bit as much as I do. Please give me 
back my life." 

There was more applause but Angelique realized it was more a recognition and 
approval of their slavery than of her statements. She was becoming what 
wanted and they were pleased. Once more she poured out her heart in motions 
and well as word, twisting her shackled wrists. When the final round of 
applause had diminished to a silence there came an innovation. 

Carrying and expensive looking box, Debbie mounted the steps to the 
platform. She addressed the naked prison as well as the audience. "We think 
you're wonderful, Angelique, darling, and we're all so glad we've got you. 
We'll never allow you to escape, you're too precious for that. But all the 
girls have joined to show their appreciation of what you have become by a 
couple of little gifts I have here in this box." 

Angelique would not have been surprised by thumbscrews or gold-plated 
handcuffs. Instead she gasped and glowed at sight of an excellent example of 
the metal-worker's art, a round circlet that might have been of sliver. It's 
beauty lay in its symmetry and the manner in which its ring was contrived 
without either weakening or spoiling the effect. Her name had been engraved 
upon its surface to be followed by the words, "Property of the Sensuality 
Club." When Debbie placed it around the captive neck and clicked it shut, 
Angelique shivered in a mixture of emotions in which pride vied with fear in 
the knowledge the rite just performed was forever. The weight of metal upon 
her neck would be there always. The fit was perfect. 

There would have been applause had not Debbie held up a warning hand and 
once more reached into the expensive box. This time the gasp was both from 
the audience and the naked girl and was one of awe. The belt, seemingly so 
small for maiden waist, was larger copy of the sliver band already locked on 
Angelique's neck, except that instead of being perfectly round, it had been 
curved and widened enough to fit the contours of her waist. It too had a 
metal ring firmly attached to it but, in addition, was made more beautiful 
by inserts of emeralds and sapphires to thrill a feminine heart. Like the 
collar, it fitted Angelique's taut waist to perfection. When its lock was 
final, the girl who wore it was able to use her joined hands to explore its 
surface and the heavy ring the purpose of which she could easily divine. 
Before leaving the stage, Debbie prompted, "Say a few words to them, 
darling. These things cost an awful lot of money." 

How does a slave say thank you for chains? Angelique was vividly conscious 
of the weight of both circles she must now wear. But she was thrilled by 
their beauty and supposed them made her no more helpless than she already 
was. And obviously they were tokens of affection and a strange gratitude for 
being what she was. She shrugged at her audience and smiled, "I have to 
thank you, I want to thank you. And I suppose this could be me cue to say 
that if you love me enough to spend all this money on these lovely things, 
then surely you must love me enough to let me go. But I mustn't say that ... 
right?" She grinned in sudden humor, "I should say how proud I am to wear 
these always in memory of this moment but I have no choice. I'll wear them 
always because you've locked them on me and I'll never, never get them off." 
Her voice quivered. "I wish I had hands to feel them. All I can touch is the 
ring behind my back and I know what that ring means"' She raised her chin to 
stare, almost defiantly, at every member of the club. "Please be kind to 
me." 

Angelique was kissed and fondled and had a variety of intoxicants pressed 
upon her, which, having no hands to push them away, she had to drink. Every 
girl in the place loved her and could scarcely wait to get possession. There 
was reverence about them as if they were well aware of privilege in owning 
this girl who wore her signs of captivity with such grace. Once more the 
invisible cloak descended upon the naked girl as she talked girl talk with 
friends who held glasses to her lips and whispered longingly of things they 
would do when she became their personal slave. Most prefaced their remarks 
with a breathless, "I can hardly wait ... ." 

"Darling, you were a knock-out!" Debbie was delighted. "They all told me 
what a wonderful job I had done. But it wasn't me at all, it was you. I 
might not have done half as well with another girl. Darling, that's the 
finest steel you've got on your neck and around your tummy. We chose steel 
because it can't be easily cut if anyone tries to take it from you. It's 
some special stuff that cost a lot of money. Is it too heavy?" 

"I'll get used to it." She stared hard at Debbie. "They're made for me to 
wear forever, that right? I'll bet there isn't even a key." 

"That's right, darling. But they're something you should ever be ashamed of. 
Do you like them?" 

"I love them, darling, thanks a million. Honest, I think they're positively 
gorgeous." 

"Well, that looks after that, I really am pleased about the whole affair. 
There were a couple of girls there with the bright idea of giving you your 
first public whipping right there on the stage as a sort of get acquainted 
act. But the rest wouldn't go along. I thought you ought to know." 

"So, whenever I fall into their clutches I'll know what to expect? Avis, 
dear, I wish you could keep me always instead of handing me around from girl 
to girl. I can guess which ones will be mean. Gosh, I wish I was free!" 

They went to bed but in their love-play, Angelique was constantly aware of a 
sliver circlet around her neck and a band locked around her waist, each 
bespoke another step to slavery. 

The communal slavegirl had a myriad of memories to occupy her mind when left 
alone. One was of a tawny-haired beauty at the party, a girl she know only 
slightly but who singled her out to say, without preamble, "I want you so 
badly. I can hardly wait for you. I'm going to whip you and whip you and 
whip you. I hope I get you soon." 

Once it would have seemed bizarre but now was no more than within the 
context of the Sensuality Club's purpose with their new possession. Perhaps 
the alcohol generously given to her helped her take the bad news in stride. 
She even retorted casually, "I don't see why you would do that. I've never 
done anything to you. I thought we were friends." 

"Oh, but we are, darling!" The tawny-haired girl was anxious to exonerate 
herself from any thought of cruelty. "It's just that you're so ... so ... so 
whippable. I've wanted to whip a naked girl all my life and this is the 
first chance I've had. You do understand, don't you?" 

"I understand that I'm frightened to be handed over to you. Please, do you 
have to!" 

"Oh, absolutely! I couldn't possibly keep you around the place .as a prison 
without doing it. For me, it is a positive MUST. Maybe if I give you one 
horrendous whipping right at the start and get it out of my system ... ?" 

"I'm never going to want to be whipped so what do you expect me to say?" 

"You might show more enthusiasm. It's not as though you've never been 
whipped, there's some lovely marks on your skin right now. Aren't you one of 
those girls who enjoys it?" 

"No, I'm not. I hate it! If someone whipped you, you'd know what I mean. And 
after you've been whipped you wouldn't want to ever have it done again. Or 
to anyone else." The cocktails prompted recklessness. "Look, darling, before 
you get possession of me, why don't you get one of the girls to give you the 
same whipping you're thinking of doing to me? You really should, you know, 
so you'll know how bloody awful it is ... please?" 

They had parted friends but without her future owner changing her mind one 
bit. When tawny-hair got possession of Angelique the chained girl could 
expect to be well and truly whipped without mercy. 

There was also the auburn hair with whom Angelique had often shared coffee 
or tea. Auburn hair worked hard to maintain an air that she was not over 
eager to get her hands on the naked and chained girl. "Really, Angelique 
dear, this is all a bit too much, don't you think? I can understand your 
being mad. What I'm wondering is what the girls will do when they get you 
alone with them." She cocked a speculative eye. 

"I'm sure they'll think of something. Some want to whip me." 

"Well, that just goes along with the whole thing, you know. You've read the 
books. I mean those special books that nice ladies are not suppose to read." 
Her eyes glinted. "You know I've got some money so I don't have to work. 
That means that I can devote all my time to you. You know what we'll do at 
night, of course, but I'm wondering how it would be during the day. I mean, 
like I start making you uncomfortable at nine AM and carry on through to 
five each day. After that there would be dinner and brandy in the lounge, 
then bed. How does that strike you?" 

"How uncomfortable do I have to be to give you a kick?" 

"I don't think you're suppose to ask questions like that, Angelique. I 
believe a respectful silence would be better. But what I had in mind was a 
few little notions that will keep you all hot and bothered but won't do you 
any harm. Have you ever heard of that ancient device called the 'horse'?" 

"That's torture, pure and simple." 

"Well, I suppose it is, but I'm thinking of a nice, wide, round pole that 
won't cut your poor pussy to bits. I'll show you what I mean when I get 
you." 

"Couldn't we just talk? Or go for a ride in the car? I mean, with these 
handcuffs I'm completely helpless. And then there's the leg irons on my 
ankles. I can't possibly escape." Angelique's eyes were pleading. 

"We'll do that too. But there has to be some more ... more dramatic things. 
I know some of the girl want to whip you but that's old hat, it's been done 
before. And besides it leaves a lot of marks I don't care for. I've brought 
myself a safari cage and it's positively darling. You'll love being locked 
inside." 

There had been a long list of similar delights, all of which told the 
captive girl she was in for it. He apprehensions were partly relieved by 
Betty Hunt. 

"Gee, Angelique, you were wonderful up there on the stage. But I do hope all 
the girls will do what you say and be at least a little bit kind. Gosh, when 
they talk to me, they sound positively blood-thirsty!" 

"I think it's the cocktails." 

"Well, anyway, Angelique dear, I'm not going to whip you. I'll make a gift 
of you to my boyfriend once or twice, that is if he behaves himself! I'm 
sure you won't mind that. He's got the loveliest, big you-know-what." 

"I'd think it a lot nicer if I just belonged to you, Betty. I don't want a 
man to make love to me while I'm in chains." 

"But, darling, that's a thrill, it's a bonus, it's something extra!" Betty's 
eyes shone. "I know a guy who does the nicest things to a girl once he gets 
her clothes off. He's terribly inventive and ties me up in knots. When he 
goes home I just lay on the bed and live it all over again. Next time he 
shows up I'm terribly, terribly ready. Don't you see, that's the way it is 
going to be with you?" 

That had looked after Betty, Betty was simple sex. It was evident that 
between the twenty-five girls who shared her body, there was real diversity 
of interest. Angelique could see she would not be bored. 

At that point, and in a desperate longing for the freedom she would never 
know, Angelique went wild in panic to tug and twist frantically at handcuffs 
which held her easily. The steel mocked her frenzy until she knew it 
hopeless. 

She would never escape. 

 Chapter 3 Connie 

I mean this just isn't possible! I mean. I'm twenty-three and an adult and 
I've got my own apartment. I know I'm good to look at but I can't possibly 
be good enough to be kidnapped! I think that's what's happened, I've been 
kidnapped! 

My name is Connie Lipton and I've known this girl quite a while. We've 
talked about boys. When I say her looking at me the way she does, l just 
figured she was wondering what I had that she doesn't, although she seemed 
to me to have everything. I think she put something in the coffee. How else 
would I be here with my hands tied behind my back! I know it's a lovely 
bedroom but bedrooms aren't always a good thing for a girl like me, if you 
know what I mean. 

I've been trying to get loose ever since I woke up. I tried the door but 
it's locked. I just can't get loose these cords around my wrists. I figured 
I could get loose if I was left alone long enough but up to now I haven't 
made any progress at all. It's the damndest feeling! 

I expect it's white slavery, that's the most likely thing. But I have to 
wonder how I'm going to adjust. I mean, some bozo walks in here and expects 
me to spread my legs while he has himself a fun time with my pussy and then 
gives the money to someone I've never seen. I think I'm in trouble. 

I wish someone would come and tell me what it's all about. 

Sure, I can fill in the time by trying to get my hands free. But, even if I 
do get the cords loose, where do I go from there? The door is locked and 
there is bars on the window. Thanks heaven there is a bathroom. But I can't 
get these cords off and I suppose that should tell me something. I've been 
tied by an expert, someone who's accustomed to tying a girl's hands. This 
doesn't look like a whore house bedroom but I don't know what else it could 
be. I don't know how I'll take to being a whore but I'm going to find out. 
Shit! 

Someone's coming! Oh. boy, this is it! 

She's a pretty girl and she's carrying a cup of coffee, and says, "Hello, 
Connie, how are you feeling?" 

"Lousy. And where am I? And why are my hands tied?" 

"All in good time, dear. Here, I'll hold this to your lips. Drink it 
slowly." I think she's done this before. But I gulp the coffee and it tastes 
real good. 

When I've finished the cup I ask again, "Please untie my hands. I don't know 
why on earth you ever tied them." 

"To keep you safe, dear. We don't want you going around smashing things or 
hurting yourself." 

"Am I in a whore house?" 

She actually laughs. 

"No, you're not in a whore house, Connie. But you are a prisoner and you'll 
have to get used to the idea. We've kidnapped you and you'll never be free 
again." 

"Who's we?" 

"The Sensuality Club, dear, we found out about you so I'm pretty sure you've 
heard about us." 

The name didn't mean much to me. I looked at the pretty girl who was holding 
the empty cup and demanded, "So, okay, you've kidnapped me. What do you want 
me for? Why shouldn't I go to the police?" 

"You won't go to the police because you can't. And we want you because we 
enjoy possessing a beautiful young woman to do with as we wish. You'll get 
used to the idea." 

"I won't! I want out. Untie my hands." 

That didn't get me anywhere. The lovely creature said, as though I had been 
a real pain in the neck. "It will be a shock, I know. We allow for that. But 
just to shorten this period of questions and answers and wondering, I'm 
going to put you in with a girl we've owned for quite a while. She'll clue 
you in on everything." 

I'm only a little scared, nothing bad the way I ought to be. But right off 
this dame tells me her name is Dorothy Dawson and she's going to remove my 
clothes which makes me think maybe I'm in a whore house after all. 

"I've already had one bath today, thank you," I tell her real polite. "But 
if you'll untie my hands, I'll undress myself. What do you want me undressed 
for anyway?" 

She smiles real sweet and says like she's talking to some kid, "Girls like 
you don't need clothes, dear." She comes up with a pair of scissors. "I have 
to snip a few bits and pieces to get you undressed. I'm sure you won't 
mind." 

"Of course I'll mind. This dress cost me twenty-nine ninety-five on sale ... 
. 

"You'll never wear it again, Connie, so it doesn't matter. You'll never wear 
anything again. Now just hold still." 

I'm actually holding still, I mean this is crazy! About all she has to use 
the scissors for is shoulder straps and I watch those fall away like I 
simply don't believe. Then she pulls things down and down until everything's 
tumbled around my shoes and then they get yanked off, too, and the whole 
bundle gets put away in a draw. Suddenly I'm sitting on the bed stark naked. 
What's more, I can't cover anything, I've got no hands. I tell Dorothy 
Dawson this is for the birds and she says she knows how I feel but it's all 
a case of getting adjusted and they'll allow me lots of time. All the while 
she's doing this her eyes are simply eating me up. 

I don't mind another girl seeing me bare, I've got nothing to be ashamed of. 
I know I'm nice and grade A with a nice tight waist and really lovely tits 
so I have to suppose if this isn't a whore house, the club she mentioned has 
to be for a bunch of lesbians. But the way this girl is looking at me, I'm 
surprised my pussy hair doesn't go up in smoke. And I realize that all this 
time I've been twisting and turning my wrists to try and cover up what 
matters but I'm beginning to doubt if I'll ever cover up anything again. 

"This way, dear." This Dorothy Dawson takes my arm. "This is going to be 
real good for you, and you'll love darling Angelique. She's really sweet and 
we've owned her long enough so she's become very wise about everything. I'm 
very glad you're not being difficult." 

The first I get to see of this Angelique dame is through bars. She's sitting 
on a wooden bench and safely locked in what looks like one of those prison 
cells you see on the TV. Her arms are behind her back same as mine, and 
she's stark naked, same as me. And I wouldn't say she looks all that happy. 
Her smile is nice but it's like she turns it one with reservations. As far 
as her looks go, she's a whiz. Dorothy Dawson opens the cell door, shoves me 
inside, then locks it again and goes away. I stand there with my hands 
behind my back. 

"Your name's Connie, I'm Angelique," says the girl on the bench in the 
nicest voice. "I'd give you a hug because I think you could use one but 
we're not allowed to have hands." She got up and turned around so I could 
see how her wrists were handcuffed. "We're not allowed to have our feet, 
either. We have to wear leg irons." She kicked at the silver chain between 
her ankles to show me how short it was. "It's not as awful as it seems at 
first. A girl gets used to it." She came to me and gave me a real nice, 
sisterly sort of kiss. "We're both slavegirls, Connie. Come and sit down." 

Seeing Angelique walk back and forth that way showed me why that lovely 
nakedness was doubly effective. They had got the most beautiful belt thing 
I've ever seen locked snug around her waist and a similar sort of thing 
around her neck. I felt certain she couldn't get them off. Maybe no one else 
could, either. It wasn't hard to figure why they had rings at the back. 
Those rings would make it easy to fasten Angelique to most anything. I sat 
close beside her on the bench and asked right off, "What do I have to do to 
go home?" 

"You never will go home and neither will I. They've owned me a year now and 
I don't ever expect to escape." 

"But surely you've tried!" 

"How could I? I've been handcuffed and leg-ironed the way you see me now 
almost since day one." 

I was picking up messages, none of them good. I now saw something I didn't 
like at all. "You've been whipped! Those marks on your skin!" 

"It happens. You get whipped at the start because they have to teach you 
things. Then, as you learn, they demand more and more in the way of 
obedience. If you slip up, or get lippy because you're mad, you get whipped 
for that, too. It's not a fun thing, at least not for the girl being 
whipped. But don't worry about it, you won't die." 

"I'm lippy, I know I'm lippy." 

"In that case you can expect to be whipped a lot." 

She smiled again and shrugged. "We have to try and see it their way. If a 
girl won't conform, what else can they do?" 

"They've broken your spirit." 

"Maybe. The Sensuality Club calls it 'getting me properly trained'." Once 
more the lovely smile which is also a little bit sad. "The club has at least 
twenty-five members and I've been passed around to all of them at one time 
or another. They can do anything they want except injure me. You fall in 
love with half of them, they're so sweet. The other half comes in all types. 
It took me quite a long time to accept the fact I'm a slave. I don't like 
the word but don't know what else to use. The girls call you all sorts of 
names like 'pet', or 'damsel in distress', or 'property'. Some of them do 
actually call you slave or slavegirl. I'm chained. I'm naked. And I do what 
I'm told." 

"Don't any of them feel ashamed for treating us like this?" 

"They overcome that by keeping us in really marvelous luxury. This cell is a 
punishment thing and it's the first time I've been in it. I guess we're here 
because it's a good place to keep us while we talk." 

Holy Cow, was I ever getting the low down! I sat on that bench and listened 
to the most beautiful girl and wondered what I would look like after I've 
been a prisoner a whole year like she had. It was like the handcuffs behind 
her back and those silvery irons on her feet had become a part of her, I 
mean the way she moved and everything. It was like she didn't even know she 
was chained. She saw me shiver. 

"You're scared of being the way I am, I can tell," Angelique says quietly. 
"They've kept me handcuffed like this the whole year now and you notice how 
I've come to accept it as natural. I think they've been clever in this 
because keeping me handcuffed has told me better than anything else how 
totally I belong to the Sensuality Club. It's because I can't do anything 
for myself. I'm so dependent on one of them. You'll be the same way." 

Angelique was really a dish and I wished I had my arms so I could love her 
to bits. I could see how nice it would be to have a girl like that chained 
and naked to make love to and know she would do whatever you wanted her to. 
A voice whispered in my ear that I'd be that way soon, myself. But I shut it 
up real quick and told myself it might happen to other girls but not me. I 
mean, I simply couldn't believe any of it even though I was locked in a cell 
behind bars with a chained girl who was trying to save me from getting my 
ass whipped for being the way I am. I simply had to ask, "This whipping 
business, how do they go about it?" 

Angelique shrugs like we're talking about the weather. "You can stand still 
and take it, or they may want you to bend over and get it on your seat. If 
they're going to be really mean, they hoist you hands up behind your back so 
you have to bend forward and that gives them everything you've got to work 
on. It's beautifully simple." She saw the expression on my face. "Don't 
worry about those awful things you've read about, the club doesn't use them. 
What they do use hurts plenty but doesn't break the skin. When they cane 
your bottom, that's a part of a girl designed for the purpose. It's padded 
and bouncy. There's been quite a collection of instruments they've used on 
me." 

"Don't you scream?" 

"Sometimes. It depends on whether the girl who is whipping you wants you to 
scream or take it in silence. If she wants silence, she gags you." 

"Sounds like torture to me." 

"Not really, in fact I sometimes think there's a terrible beauty about it. 
Look, I might as well tell you there's going to be a show put on this 
afternoon just for your benefit. And, of course, it will be a sort of get 
acquainted thing for you. You will be the main attraction but I'll be up on 
the stage with you. I'm going to be whipped." 

That is a real zinger. I stand and stare, and finally come out with, "What 
on earth for?" 

"The mistress I had last week figured I insulted the man she gave me to one 
afternoon. At least he claimed I did and that was enough to get me 
sentenced. The only reason it hasn't happened yet is they've been keeping my 
skin for you to watch as a demonstration." She smiled cheerfully enough. 
"They think that if you see me being whipped, they'll not have to whip you 
as much. It's probably a good idea." 

"It's crazy. I won't let it happen!" 

"What can you do about it, dear?" 

She's right, there's nothing I can do about it. And Angelique certainly 
can't do anything, either. Suddenly this cell seems smaller but I get an 
inspiration. "Look," I say, "I'm not handcuffed the way you are, if we back 
up against each other you can use your hands to untie mine and then I can 
put up a fight and maybe get somewhere." 

"It wouldn't do any good," Angelique tells me sorrowfully. "So much of this 
is testing us, if I did get your hands free, what could you do anyway? We're 
both still locked in this cell and would be punished for our act." She gives 
a terrible, resigned shrug. "I doubt if I could get those tight knots out 
anyway. Just take it easy and let things happen." 

Things happened but not in any way I had dreamed of. I mean, if some bozo 
came in and beat us both us I would realize how much trouble we were both 
in. But it wasn't like that at all. This Dorothy Dawson dame comes and 
unlocks the door and says she's sure we had a lovely talk and Angelique will 
show me around before lunch. I must have looked the way I felt because 
Angelique bursts out laughing and tells me she knows how I'm feeling and not 
to worry because Dorothy Dawson's lunches are very good, indeed. I walk with 
her out of that cell into absolute luxury. 

It's a beautiful house full of beautiful things, way beyond anything I could 
ever afford. We have to walk slow because of Angelique's chained feet. She 
shows me around as if she owns the play until she takes me into lunch to sit 
at a table with Dorothy. A black girl stands between us to spoon stuff into 
our mouths and hold cups to our lips. Once I got over the embarrassment, 
everything tasted marvelous and I could see what Angelique meant. There was 
also some wine and I drank all of it the black girl would let me have. But 
the time I finished a fine lunch, I no longer cared whether my hands were 
tied behind my back or not. Just shows you, doesn't it! 

I'm not sure I like this standing on the stage with twenty-five girls 
staring at my snatch, but Angelique seems unconcerned and moves around with 
that easy grace she has. Dorothy Dawson gives a little talk and displays me 
from every angle, and I would kick her in the crotch if I thought it would 
do any good, if fact I'd kick all their silly faces if I got the chance. But 
I take my clue from Angelique who knows a lot more about these situations 
than I do. So I listen to the oh's and ah's over my tits and the color of my 
hair, and then I get stood to one side and told to stand still and watch. 

Poor Angelique! Holy Cow, I'm not believing what I'm seeing! Angelique takes 
up a position in the center of the stage and a rope comes down from up above 
and is hooked onto her handcuffs which are then raised up and up until she's 
bending over with her bottom sticking out behind. Dorothy then gets the 
damndest looking cane and slashes that bottom as though she's mad at it. 
Angelique gasps and makes noises with her chain as she kicks one foot. After 
a couple more strokes, which leave the damndest marks on that lovely skin, 
Angelique gets turned around so as to give the audience a different view 
before Angelique gets three more of the same. I can see her face now and 
know she's really hurting as each blow lands on her soft flesh. When she 
gets turned again, and gets four, I can tell she's having a hard time and 
trying very hard not to scream. I guess she's not suppose to scream or she 
would have. I would have screamed my head off right from the start. 

They lower Angelique's arms. I give a sigh of relief and I guess Angelique 
does, too. Her bottom is blazing red and she gets turned this way and that 
so the membership can get their jollies. I'm shivering as though it's cold. 
I figured this would be the end but it isn't. Angelique gets hoisted up 
again and this time her arms are pretty near straight up so she has to be in 
agony. It's a new whip this time, a wicked thing Dorothy swishes around a 
bit before striking the first blow across Angelique's back. It leaves a 
wicked red line and Angelique screams. I was right about Angelique not 
suppose to scream because the whipping stops long enough for a strange 
looking collection of straps and rubber and metal can be shoved into her 
mouth and buckled tight behind her neck. Angelique can't do anything, she's 
hurting too bad to move. Dorothy picks up the whip and goes back to work. 

Angelique can't really scream but she sure makes a lot of noise through her 
nose and around that thing filling her mouth. I get the idea they don't want 
to leave her stretched up that way too long because the whip strokes across 
her back are must faster than the cane strokes had been. She had ten with 
the cane and now ten with the whip. And they didn't lose any time letting 
her arms half way down. I guess it didn't matter about the gag now because 
she isn't going to scream anyway. But they left it in her mouth and let her 
stand there several minutes, all wet with sweat and still bent over enough 
to be uncomfortable. She kept turning her head from side to side and I'm 
sure she was longing to get that gag out of her mouth. I stand there feeling 
foolish and working at my bound hands and wondering how all this can happen 
just because of a bit of cord around my wrists. But even though my arms 
weren't strung up behind, I was every bit as helpless as Angelique. 

The twenty-five girls were now chattering away with cocktails, so Dorothy 
Dawson took the rope completely off Angelique's arms and the gag from her 
mouth. 

"Go down and join their fun, darlings," she said to us both, brightly. "It's 
over now." For a moment she looked from me to Angelique and back. "We all 
hope you've learned a lesson. Did you?" 

What a hell of a thing to ask! But I mumbled that, yes, I had learned a 
lesson, and secretly realized that I had. There was no way I wanted to be 
whipped the way poor Angelique had been. Angelique said, yes, she had 
learned her lesson and thank you very much, Dorothy. Then I'll be damned if 
the whip wasn't held up to her lips and she kissed is as if she meant it. We 
then went down and joined the girls. 

Angelique gave me a little grin that told me not to worry and showed me the 
marks on her back and bottom, which I swear were getting darker every 
moment. It was easy to figure that even if a girl only got whipped only once 
a month, she'd always have some marks on her skin some place. As we went 
down together, Angelique positively swamped me in her sweat smell, and her 
lovely female scent hovered around us like a cloud. I wondered if the other 
girls could smell it too as they clustered around and made a tremendous fuss 
telling us how beautiful we were and holding cocktails to our lips. I gulped 
down as fast as I could. They made a big thing out of examining Angelique's 
handcuffs and my bit of cord. There were comments about how marvelous they 
made us look and how we could never escape. They all knew Angelique but I 
seemed to be a curiosity and they made me spread my legs and bend over and 
all sorts of things so they could get acquainted with my tits and pussy and 
bottom. Some went overboard about my breasts and others about my ass. They 
all agreed it would be nice for me to be leg-ironed the same as Angelique. 
After they got me half-way pickled, they made me go back on the stage and 
stand facing them while they had a draw to see which of them got me first. 
Angelique didn't get in on this because Dorothy Dawson owned her for the 
present and she wouldn't be moving on for a week or two. They made her turn 
her back to the glass bowl in which the names were neatly folded on little 
slips of paper. She reached in with cuffed hands and picked the winner. The 
name on the slip was Muriel Scobie. 

This has to be crazy! I mean, this Sensuality Club thing is absolutely out 
of this world. This idea about owning a girl, which is me, is way far out! I 
keep wishing I owned a few of them and get them to understand what a hell of 
a deal this is for the girl they make their prisoner (that's me again). And 
then there's Muriel Scobie, who's something else again. She says she loves 
me very much and I can call her Mu. Her way of getting this idea across is 
to cane my ass. 

Muriel is sweet and she's a beauty like the rest of them, and she's all 
fired up about making me over into a slavegirl who will turn out just like 
Angelique. When she gets me back to her place, she sits me down and talks 
real serious about how I'm going to have to be real submissive and obedient, 
and please her pussy. I act like I'm taking it all in but secretly I'm 
saying to myself, "Up yours, Lady!" And I wonder a bit if she is ever going 
to untie my hands. 

There's been so much of everything that I'm all in a dither. First off 
there's this business about Muriel Scobie taking me home. I figured that I'd 
be drugged or tied up in the trunk or laced up in a sack or something, but 
I'm damned if I don't get to sit in the front seat besides Mu and all they 
do to keep me what they call "behaving" is tie my ankles together so damned 
tight it hurts. I sit there pretty, and naked, and all tied up while we take 
quite a long while to get where we're going. And, believe it or not, no one 
even notices me! There's cars and people and even an occasional police car. 
But no one can see I'm tied up and Muriel has a thing she calls a cattle 
prod. If I start making faces out the window to attract attention, she holds 
this thing against me and I go wild until she switches off the current. I 
only did it a couple of times but that was enough. I sit still like a good 
little girl and listen to whatever she has to talk about, and hope she'll 
untie my hands when we get home. Muriel doesn't answer my question about my 
hands. I guess it was a silly question. 

More luxury! These girls are all loaded. After she's untied my ankles, 
Muriel puts a collar on my neck and leads me on the grand tour. Gee, I 
should be so lucky. Muriel then sits me on a couch and from the way her eyes 
are shinning, I know she's up to something. 

"Connie, dear, I'm so lucky to have you. And I want this first evening 
together to be something we'll both remember all our lives. Right now your 
hands are tied with a piece of rope but I'm going to fix you up with some 
lovely handcuffs and a bit of beautiful chains for your ankles. That way 
we'll both know where you're at and we'll both get a proper felling of 
permanence." 

Muriel has lovely reddish hair and green eyes and lovely white skin. The way 
her dress sticks out in front tells me she also has tits. But she's left me 
in no doubt I'll get a good look at everything she's got when she's ready to 
show. This moment evidently means a great deal and she's sort of looking at 
me hopefully as if expecting a speech. I'm still clutching at the idea of an 
escape so I ask meekly, "Couldn't I stay tied as I am? I couldn't possibly 
do anything you wouldn't approve of?" 

That one doesn't get answered, either. Muriel gleefully upends a box on the 
rug to show me the damndest collection of shinning metal I've ever seen. It 
scares the shit out of me just to look at it. But she's almost breathless 
with excitement which gets me to feeling excited too and wondering what it 
will feel like to wear this stuff. 

She then ties my ankles again so when she unties my hands I won't be a 
problem. To emphasis this, she grabs a handful of my hair and shakes my head 
gently. "Connie, dear, don't ever make me be cruel. All I want of you is 
simply obedience. Be a good girl." 

I wanted to tell Muriel that being a good girl means different things to 
different people and the last thing I want is to be her kind of a good girl. 
I really want to run but I don't think I'll be doing much with my feet tied. 
I say very simply, "Sure, Muriel, I know what you mean. I'll behave. What 
would you like me to do now?" 

"Stand up, dear, your ankles will hurt but it won't be for long." 

She's right, my ankles hurt as I stand watching her sort out the lovely, 
wicked things by which I will be robbed of freedom for the rest of my life- 
that's the way the girls tell it but I don't believe. Muriel chooses a pair 
of handcuffs and, even though I don't know anything about handcuffs, they 
look terribly expensive and terribly small. The two sets of jaws are joined 
by a single link which is a strong and heavy as all the rest. I'm sure that 
once they're locked on a girl, she's had the course. Muriel unties my hands. 

It feels so damned good I actually say thank you. She lets me massage my 
wrists a bit and stretch my arms. It's so lovely I forget it may be for the 
last time in my life. If I had any ideas about putting up a fight, Muriel 
made it plain I had better not by keeping hold of my hair and making it 
clear that she could break my neck any time she wanted. Her voice was 
vibrating with some sort of passion as she ordered, "Put your arms behind 
your back, dear. This is so wonderful!" 

Mu's got me going! I get a bit breathless, too, and really gasp when the 
cold metal goes around my wrist and there comes the click, click. The final 
click make the circlet really snug. By the time Muriel had done that to both 
hands, she really had me going, I entirely forgot she was using her own 
hands on the cuffs and no longer holding my hair. I could have made a fuss. 
But by the time the last click came it was too late, so I just stood there 
sort of bemused while my ankles hurt and I got some of the hottest kisses 
I've ever know from the girl who said I now belonged to her. I was clenching 
and unclenching my fists and fingering the shinning metal. Boy, talk about 
creepy! 

The next thing was to sit down while Muriel made up her mind about which of 
the chain things she would lock on my legs. The ones she had were different 
from the ones Angelique had on, Angelique had told me hers were the regular 
police thing except for the shorting chain. But Muriel was telling me she 
had these made special and they were a lot heavier and a lot more beautiful 
than they could be. I said they were lovely and thank you very much. How 
crazy can I get! 

Seems like my chained ankles were going to be really something. They had 
been made to fit just exactly without that click, click, click effect. 
Muriel told me, and I knew this meant a lot to her, that no one but she 
could take them off because there was only one key, and she also said that 
they had been made out of a special steel that couldn't be cut. As long as I 
was wearing them, she said, I could kiss freedom goodbye! The chain between 
my ankles was the same length as Angelique and I wondered if I would ever be 
able to walk as nicely as she or if I would forever be falling on my face. 
There was a really heartbreaking snap whenever a circlet snubbed tight on my 
ankle. There was a message in those clicks, a message I picked up for sure. 
Muriel had untied the rope on my ankles in ordered to make the change and I 
hadn't even kicked or anything, and I knew I was going to be sorry. 

She now puts everything in the box and puts the box away and tells me to 
practice walking around the room. She's still looking at me as through I'm 
something good to eat. 

A little voice inside my head was whispering, "This is it, you've had it. 
This is the way it's always going to be." I rattled my handcuffs and kicked 
the chain joining my ankles to make one snub the other. And then I took my 
first step into something I was finding hard to believe. On my first trip 
around the room I stumbled twice. Everything was wrong and out of balance. 
To be like this always ... ? It's awful when you fall and have no hands. 
With my ankles chained together the way they were, it was even hard to get 
up. Gosh, when I think of the way I used to leap around! Anyway, the next 
round I fell over only once, and the third round I managed to make without 
error. But with my hands linked and my ankles linked the way they were I 
never felt so helpless in my life. I wanted to cry, so I went ahead and 
cried. I'm very pretty when I cry and a few tears often helps. I got myself 
kissed and hugged by a delighted girl who wasn't much older than I. Muriel 
licked up my tears and told me how good they tasted and I should cry some 
more. So, of course, I stopped. She said we could now go to the kitchen and 
she would make coffee. She said she had a black girl for a maid but the girl 
had gone home so we had the place to ourselves, and wasn't that lovely. 

"You mustn't try to ask my maid for help, she won't do it." Muriel was 
playing very gently with my nipples, as though to show me how good captivity 
could be. "Dinky will do lots of things for you in this house if you ask her 
nicely, but if you keep bothering her to get off your chains, you'll have to 
be punished. You saw poor Angelique get punished today. You wouldn't want 
that, would you?" 

"Gosh, no!" I had never been more sincere in my life. "Please don't ever 
whip me, I couldn't bear it. I nearly died watching poor Angelique getting 
marked up. And that awful position being sort of hung up backwards-well!" 

Getting to the kitchen was an adventure, my longest journey with chained 
feet. But Muriel keep hold of my arm and I got there in one piece. Muriel 
had something waiting for me. The leather collar had snap fasteners and was 
easy to fix on my neck. I had no hands and couldn't touch it or remove it. 
There was a leash attached about five feet long and at the end of it a snap, 
which now got clipped to a ring in the wall. I realized that ring was there 
for just that purpose. 

"I've got rings all around the house to attach you to, darling," Muriel 
assured me as if I ought to feel pleased. "Rings stop you having to worry 
about what to do. Once you're clipped to them there's nothing you can do 
except behave. It's just a leather leash and collar." 

I got a charge out of sitting there all naked and helpless while Muriel did 
the work. But I was embarrassed when she had to lift the cup to my lips so I 
could drink. Boy, I wished I had my hands. In between drinks I realized I 
couldn't even get up and leave the room. The collar and leash would keep me 
right where I was. I couldn't even get up and walk to the sink. I guess 
Muriel read my thoughts because she whispered, "You'll get used to it, 
Connie, after a while everything will fall into place. We'll all help you be 
happy. Please don't worry about being whipped, there's only some of the 
girls go for that in a big way. The rest of us would rather not. Don't stop 
smiling." 

"But I'll never be as good as Angelique," I wailed, "she moves around as if 
she's not fastened at all. And she never trips or anything. I don't see how 
she could possibly deserve to be whipped like you did to her." 

"I told you to forget about the whip, Connie." 

"I'll never forget it," I sniffed unhappily. "I know it is going to happen 
to me sometime so I can't forget it, but I'll try." Maybe the coffee was 
acting as a stimulate or the cocktails were getting to me, because I dived 
right in, "Please tell me the real reasons I've been made prisoner. What are 
you girls going to do to me?" 

I must have sounded real down because Muriel comes around and kisses me and 
pants me and tells me everything is going to be all right, and gives me 
another slug of coffee before she goes back to her chair and tells me she'll 
do her best to make me understand. I have to like her because she seems to 
like me so much. 

"The Sensuality Club adores girls and that's what it's all about," Muriel 
said seriously. I know she hoped I was listening. "In a little while you and 
I are going to bed and I suppose you know what you're going to have to do? 
Tell me you know." 

"Isn't that something we should do as it happens, I mean sort of let things' 
flow as they will ... ? And can I even do it properly without hands?" 

"Angelique does it beautifully and wonderfully. What you've just said is 
right enough, darling, but you're forgetting there are twenty-five girls who 
love you and who you're going to love. Nobody's going to stand over you with 
a whip." 

"I'll blow it for sure. What happens then?" 

"Nothing, we'll try again." 

"And if I tell you I hate the whole idea and don't want any part of it?" 

"If you insisted, you'd have to be trained." 

"You mean I'd be whipped until I agreed to nibble you where you want it?" 

"Darling, you're being negative. Don't you like me?" 

She had me there! Sure I liked her. And because I was so bound up I needed 
her badly. Every time she put her arms around me and kissed me, it felt real 
good and took away the fears. I had to admit, "Okay then, I'll try to be the 
way you want. I never used to be that way-you know-with a girl, but I'll 
try. We've all heard about it, haven't we? It's not as if I didn't know." 

"Honey, you'll do fine, Connie, I know you will. You'll taste good. And I 
know I taste good, I've been told over and over." She looked across at me 
with such lovely, anxious eyes I positively melt. "Why don't we take going 
to bed for granted, stop thinking about it." 

"Okay, but that's not the only reason I'm sitting here naked and chained and 
being told I'll never be free again. It can't be!" 

"The most important reason is something you'll find hard to understand. You 
see, the club is a group or girls who all possess what is called a sexual 
aberration. It's very simple. Because we're all the same, we all adore 
owning a girl like you. Owning Angelique has given us more happiness than 
you can ever imagine. We love your nakedness and the handcuffs we put on 
you, and the irons on your ankles. We loved Angelique so much we bought her 
that collar and belt you've seen on her. She has to wear them because she 
can't get them off. None of us can, either." She giggles like a kid. "Having 
you around like that all the time keeps us horny as hell." 

"That doesn't give you the right to keep me a prisoner, to take me away from 
my life, and chain me." 

"Perhaps not. But look at it this way, darling, think of all the canaries in 
cages, and all the puppy dogs on leashes, and all the other pets people keep 
because they love them. Whether it's right or wrong everyone believes that 
the pets are a lot happier being owned than running around. It's sort of a 
natural state. Angelique was a member of the club and we trapped her into 
being what she is. She had things good before we made her prisoner, but with 
you it's different. We can give you so much you never had. If Angelique is 
happy, they we can make you happy, too." 

"I don't think either of us is really and truly happy. I'll bet Angelique 
wasn't the least bit happy when you whipped her." 

"There's bad and good for everyone. The club figures that if we can give 
Angelique more good than bad, we don't need to have a guilty conscious. 
That's the way it is." 

I digested slowly. I mean, it wasn't all that much of a shock. I'd done some 
figuring on my own and when I was out and around I had read books and talked 
to all sorts of people, and I even ran into a fellow who wanted me to tie 
him up and whip his ass! I told him where to go but I always wondered. This 
Sensuality Club was the same thing in reverse. 

"I don't see why you get a charge out of keeping my wrists handcuffed behind 
my back." 

"We do. Don't tell me you don't get some sort of sensation out of it 
yourself. Come on, Connie, be honest." 

She's right, of course. But I'd been putting any sensations I'd felt down to 
the business of belonging to twenty-five girls with their twenty-five 
pussies all waiting for me. But when I saw Angelique moving around and seen 
her whipped, and then the way she'd talked to me in the cell, I could see 
what Muriel was talking about. Sure, it was far out but it was there. 

"Why don't you girls put on a pair of handcuffs sometime so you prisoner can 
get the hots, too?" I asked innocently. 

"That's impertinence, Connie, a month from now it can get you whipped." 

It was a damned funny feeling to realize how these girls wanted me and the 
way I'd have to behave." 

"Is that the reason you keep us helpless?" 

I pout and look sad. "So you can do anything you want with us anytime? I 
pretty girl who can't do a thing to defend herself and can't run away, and 
who's scared shitless of saying the wrong word? It's not much fun for the 
girl, is it?" 

I bothered Muriel, I could tell. She shrugged my question away without an 
answer but I got the message. If I had been a prisoner a month and said 
something like that, I'd get a scolded ass for sure. I tried another 
direction, "I guess part of what you're saying is Angelique and I won't ever 
get a man again, is that the way of it, Mu?" 

"Some of the girls have boyfriends and it's amusing to make a gift of 
Angelique to the guy for maybe an hour or so, sort of on loan, although he 
can do what he likes with her. I expect it will work the same with you so 
you'll get to see a man again, whether you want to or not. You don't have to 
worry about that with me but some of the other club members get a real bang 
out of it." 

I let the man thing go, I was learning fast. In a half-assed sort of way it 
all made sense. The club had fingered out a way to give them all a lot of 
pleasure for the price of a bit of chain. And their conscious wouldn't 
bother them too much because they figured they were being kind to their 
pretty pet. I tried again, "Hasn't Angelique tried to escape? It doesn't 
make sense not to try." 

Muriel grins and pours more coffee. "Angelique hasn't tried because she's 
never had a chance. And you won't have a chance, either, dear. We keep both 
of you with your hands and feet fastened and helpless twenty-four hours a 
day. After a while you'll get used to the idea." 

That looked after that. But I still wasn't believing anything. It was all 
just too damned much. I wiggled my handcuffed arms around to where I could 
see the metal circlet on my wrist and complained, "I don't see why you 
couldn't handcuff us in front. Or maybe not handcuff us at all. We can't do 
much with our feet joined. If you keep me handcuffed like this for a year, 
I'll go crazy." 

"No you won't. But we're not doing it to you just to be mean. The club 
thinks it's doing something absolutely unique with its prisoners. We think 
we've invented a captivity for a girl that's never been done before." 

"Even in ancient times they never kept a girl's hands cuffed behind her back 
that long." 

Muriel grinned at my comment. "We're making history." 

"At the risk of going to prison for most of your life?" 

"That's the icing on the cake, darling. None of us thinks it will ever 
happen but that's a panty-wetting thrill in knowing it just could. Nothing 
really good ever happens without risk." 

"But you talk about some girl making a present of me to a man. Why wouldn't 
that guy talk? To his friends. Your secret isn't a secret at all." 

Poor, dear Muriel, I think she's finding me a pain in the ass. But she puts 
it to me straight, "Have it your way, darling. Let's say the police walk in 
here right now, would you lay a charge against me and send me to prison? 
Think about it seriously. Would you do that?" 

If I hadn't been aware of the handcuffs before, I was doubly aware of them 
now. Muriel was right, I couldn't possibly bear the thought of sending her 
to prison. I'd love to be free, of course, but not at the expense of putting 
her behind bars for years and years and years. Gosh, what a jackpot I'm in! 

I get bathed. I can't do it myself so Muriel gets in the tub with me. I can 
tell by the way she popped off her clothes she does it all the time with 
girls. She's also very beautiful and I begin to feel hot between my legs 
because anyway you look at it a beautiful girl is a beautiful girl. We're 
suppose to get men all hot and bothered but I guess it works both ways. I 
know the bed isn't that far away and I'm trying not to think about it. For a 
girl with chained feet, even getting in the bath is a problem. Muriel shows 
me how to sit on one corner and sort of throw my joined feet up and over the 
edge. The chain makes the damndest clatter but she says not to worry. Golly, 
I'm so damned helpless! 

I have to admit it's fun. Muriel soaps and wets us both until we're covered 
with lather. Then she rubs her breasts against mine until we're breathing 
fast and then she switches to down below and my pussy gets soaped like never 
before. She knows there's nothing I can do but just stand so that what I do 
as she gets me more and more in the mood. After a while she gets me going so 
I no longer care about the handcuffs or the shackles on my feet. This is the 
best bath ever! 

We have just as much fun getting dry. When she's through with me, she takes 
a ribbon and fixes my hair in a ponytail so it doesn't get in the way. I'm 
pretty sure I know what that mean. 

When Muriel gets me to the bedroom I'm scared. I've never done that before 
and don't want to. But I don't have to be all that smart to know I don't 
have a choice. On a chair there rests a long, thin cane. Muriel doesn't 
mention it but it's there. I've never been caned in my life but I can almost 
feel its cut. I'm told to sit on the bed. 

The collar is like the one I had to wear in the kitchen but the tether is 
chain that trails off under the bed where I guess it's fastened to the 
floor. It's a real long chain, but I can't walk far from the bed. Muriel 
explains she had to know I'm safe while she's asleep. I suppose she's right 
but I'm have to ask if this collar and chain won't spoil what we're going to 
do. She says, no it won't, and the way it moves around on our skin while we 
get in position is a real turn-on. Muriel pushes me over on my back so I 
have to lay on one forearm. Then she pushes my feet back against my bottom 
and pushes my knees apart and I suddenly realize that for now I'm not going 
to do it but she's going to do it to me. I have to love Muriel for being so 
thoughtful and knowing how scared I was and how this would be a good way to 
get me broken in. The handcuffs hurt and so did the steel on my ankles 
because I had to pull them apart real hard. 

All of a sudden she was kneeling between my legs and looking down at me with 
shinning eyes and face all flushed. When she lowered herself down, she dove 
right in and began. I was taunt and actually glad to be fixed the way I was 
so I didn't have to make up my mind about anything. Muriel would do it all 
for me. 

Did she ever! 

 Chapter 4 Angelique 

I've been the Sensuality Club's pet prisoner more than a year, spending that 
bit of time with poor Connie brought that fact home and made me feel sorry 
for her because I know what's ahead of her. She's a lot younger than I and 
in some ways I think she really is innocent. She's been around but nothing 
she's ever done will prepare her for what she'll have to do now. You have to 
do these things, there's no way a girl can refuse unless she wants to get 
her skin all cut up. Mostly I do whatever I'm told. But sometimes I slip and 
act naturally and that's why there are always marks on my skin just as there 
are always handcuffs on my wrists. 

I sometimes think the handcuffs are the worst. I've been handcuffed the 
whole time without a break and I feel as though I don't have hands at all. 
Very rare is the occasion when I can use my hands for something I want to 
do, but only with much struggling and wiggling. I've come to understand why 
the club keeps me this way, it's simply so damned convenient they can't see 
it any other way. I can't struggle, so I'm ever so easy to handle. And, like 
I said, after a while you don't even think of resisting. Your hands are 
behind your back to stay and that's the end of it. 

It's sort of cute the way I get passed around. I'm never certain if my new 
mistress has me for a week or a month, and mostly they refuse to tell. I 
think that surely there has to be opportunities to escape in this process of 
rotation where the membership shares me. But even when the passing is 
happening there's no chance of escape, not ever. I guess this is the reason 
they grabbed Connie. The whole twenty-five of them insist they can never get 
me long enough. Now, with Connie safely chained and all, they can own a girl 
twice as often. The Sensuality Club has it good. 

I often think back to when I was a member and when we used to talk about 
capturing a girl and making her prisoner. It was something to speak of in 
whispers and with giggles and with a terrible longing. I wish that we had 
done the same as they did with Connie. I mean, simply kidnapped a girl 
instead of drawing lots to see which of the members was to lose her liberty. 
I mean, with that big a membership the chances weren't very heavy. In that 
time when we were all breathless while making the draw. But it was a secret 
draw and I was as surprised as anyone when I was later "captured" by my 
friend Avis. The chosen girl was to be a real prisoner and the members were 
to pay no attention to any pleas or struggles or protests she might come up 
with. And when it was necessary to whip her, she's be whipped for sure. I 
look back at when we made those rules and remember the delight at thinking 
of us owning a slavegirl under such conditions. It never occurred to me that 
I would be the slavegirl. 

How could any of us have been so crazy. But it was the thrill of wanting to 
own a girl. And maybe, for some, the thrill of wondering what it would be 
like to be that girl. I, as did many others, never really thought about 
being the slavegirl, it just wouldn't happen to me. 

Avis was wonderful with me. I couldn't help being resentful and rebellious 
and feeling fate had been unkind. In those first days and weeks I 
passionately longed for the freedom I had lost. I still do but it doesn't 
hurt that bad any more. Young Connie will be going through it now. And, from 
the way the girls are talking, Connie won't be the last girl they will 
kidnap. I can see in some of their eyes a glow that says they are looking 
forward to having a good supply of us to pass around. Just having me this 
past year wasn't near enough. 

I've been completely trained in lesbian lovemaking. Belonging to the 
Sensuality Club meant that I had to be that way. Well, I was before, but ail 
the new things I've had to learn since becoming a slavegirl! The girls are 
sweet about making sure I'm not frustrated, but for themselves it has to be 
just the way they want. There's been a few "or else's" and they hurt so bad 
I don't offend twice. 

The highlights are the men, and I don't get to pick them. There's just a few 
of the girls who get a charge out of giving me to a boyfriend of theirs. The 
general reaction on the part of the man is delight. It really is something 
to see their faces when they discover me all naked and chained and well 
aware I have to do whatever they want. And they want quite a few things. In 
some ways they're worse than girls. I've learned a lot about that, too. 

I'm going to escape and one of these men will be the tool I use to get 
myself free. It won't be easy because the girls have talked about this and 
are careful. Whenever I'm given to a man they've padlocked a chain to my 
silver belt. The other end is under the bed or to a ring in the wall and 
solid enough so that an elephant couldn't pull it loose. Without the key, no 
man is going to get me loose. 

I really am a prisoner and it is not going to be easy. I often wonder if I 
should feel guilty about wanting to escape but then tell myself that there 
is nothing wrong with prisoner wanting to escape, it's almost the expected 
thing. But I also think about the damned awful punishment if you get caught 
trying to escape. I'm scared of that punishment, it comes in several parts. 
The first part is to get the letters "S" and "C" branded into my skin with a 
hot iron. It's the only punishment where the Sensuality Club is that rough 
on a girl. Regardless of that, there has been no single opportunity in the 
last year when I could even make a good try. I dream of escape often. 

The men who get me as a gift are not all that bad. They only have me for an 
hour but that's long enough to talk, especially if I try and hurry things 
along. I've learned those tricks, too! There's only one I think has 
potential. He belongs to Mary Lipmann, or maybe she belongs to him, however 
you look at it. He listened to what I have to say and said he understood how 
I wanted to escape. But he had also heard of the punishment and asked if I 
wanted to take that risk. When I told him I was willing and pleaded him to 
get me free of that chain and then carry me away, he said he'd do it. And he 
laughed at how mad Mary was going to be. The deal was he could own me for a 
whole month afterwards before setting me really and truly free. He could do 
what he wanted to me in that time. Both of us knew he was getting a bargain. 
He's going to make it happen the next time Mary hands me to him as a 
present. The trouble is I don't know when that will be. The suspense is 
murder. I've blocked the thought of failure from my mind because if 
something goes wrong, the girls would be merciless. Especially since they've 
now got Connie and would want her to learn a lesson from my stupidity. But, 
anyway, Dorothy's just come home and we've got things to talk about. 

"Hello, beautiful, had a good day? I'm pooped. 

"If the TV and the book is a good day, then I've had a good day." I do not 
mention my search for the handcuff key which is something I do every time 
she's gone. 

"You're so beautiful, darling." I get a kiss and a hug and then get turned 
around so Dorothy can examine my handcuffs and leg irons, which is something 
the girls are always doing. It's silly but they get a charge out of just 
looking at my wrists in steel circles and my ankles joined by chain. I'm 
sure they do it because they have the same feeling as me about how 
remarkable it is to keep a girl prisoner. They've admitted to me they're 
scared to death of me getting loose and blowing the whistle. They're sure I 
would but I'm not sure myself. If I could get free, I'd let it go at that. I 
will admit, though, to a couple of cute fantasies in which I own the girls 
who have been really mean, the whip-happy ones who are a lot of fun if only 
they can forget marking up my skin. 

Dinky has served dinner but won't be feeding me tonight. Dorothy has given 
her permission to run off and meet her boyfriend for a heavy date. So I have 
to sort of bend forward and sort of lap it up off the plate like a puppy 
dog. I've gotten quite good at this and no longer get much of a mess on me. 
Dorothy tried out the idea of putting my coffee in a dish for me to lap up 
but it got cold right quick and made slurping noises and she stopped that. 
Through this whole business of eating my hands are busy tugging and pulling 
at the handcuffs which is something instinctive. A girl needs her hands at 
times that it seems impossible you can't get them free. 

As far as escape goes, Dinky is a lost cause. I repeatedly tempted her with 
all sort of offers but she just listened and then talks about something 
else. I think she tells Dorothy about these but Dorothy is a sweetheart and 
doesn't punish me. 

I ask about Connie and Dorothy tells me Connie's been given to Avis the same 
as I was. She says Connie is doing nicely and they're pleased with her but 
she'll never be as good as me. When I ask what's so special about me, I'm 
not so sure the answer is a compliment or not. 

"Angelique, my sweet, there are some girls born to be handcuffed and you're 
one of them. Don't ask me why but handcuffs are as natural on you as that 
glorious golden head of hair." 

I said a polite thank you and add how nice it would be if I could comb my 
lovely golden hair, but all I get out of that is agreement that it would be 
nice but Dinky and she would comb and brush it for me. 

"Yeah, I sure am!" I go heavy on the sarcasm. 

"Well, cheer up, darling, we're having company this evening. It's Nancy 
Turpin, you like Nancy, don't you?" 

"I like her here with you but I'm glad she doesn't get to own me. Sometimes 
I catch her looking at me in a hungry sort of way and I know she adores my 
handcuffs." 

"Well, what's wrong with that? I adore them, too. I'm sure I often look at 
you as if I'm starving." 

"It's not the same. I feel safe with you, but I'd never feel safe alone with 
Nancy. You know the kind of things she loves doing." 

"We shouldn't begrudge the poor dear a little bit of fun. If she joins the 
club, you'll belong to her sometime." 

"She'd make me scream." 

"That's all in your mind, dear. Come on, let's clear the table." 

I can actually help so long as I stay away from anything that spills. 
handcuffs are wonderful but they keep a girl helpless. We did try out my 
washing and drying the dishes but I'm too slow at that and usually break 
something. So Dorothy stacks them and leaves them for Dinky. 

Nancy Turpin looks good and I'm surprised the club hasn't thought to take 
her prisoner. I make a mental note to suggest that to Dorothy after Nancy's 
gone. I'd love to see Nancy fighting handcuffs and kicking at leg irons. 
Slavegirls get a lot of fantasies like this. 

Nancy exudes an air of conscious virtue when she arrives exactly on time. I 
pick up the usual vibes and shiver inwardly. But we are three girls who love 
each other so she and Dorothy sit on the couch and I'm told to kneel before 
them on the rug. That is after I'm stood a while with my feet wide apart so 
Nancy can get a good look. Dorothy loves showing me off. 

"You haven't painted Angelique's nipples," Nancy complains right off. "You 
know I like them painted." 

"We thought we would let you decide the color, Nancy." 

Nancy pretends to think about it, "Let's paint her black this time, I think 
black would be nice." 

This is one more thing a handcuffed girl can do. I clink my chained steps to 
get the things by which our visitor will paint my nipples a color she knows 
I detest. What girl wants black tits-good gosh! 

I don't expect to enjoy the evening. After I back up to hand Nancy the 
things she wants, I once more kneeled submissively for their approval and 
I'm told me to move up against Nancy's knees so my breasts almost pressed 
against her legs and were easy for her to handle. From some place she has 
produced a soft brush and black paint. I even manage a smile as the brush 
tickled my nipples, painting them a deep indigo. Then I am told to resume my 
submissive pose, and allow the paint to dry while Nancy thinks up something 
else. I'm pretty sure she'll think of something because just having black 
nipples is fun and doesn't hurt a bit. My two mistresses chat about this and 
that and Dorothy deliberately includes me in the conversation whenever she 
thinks I've got something to say. It does not last. 

"Dorothy, we're forgetting something," Nancy says. "I like this black on her 
nipples but don't you think they deserve something more. Would you mind, 
just to please me?' 

Dorothy's glance is a message. Once more I get to my feet for an errand 
easily accomplished. The spring clips by which a girl's nipples can be hurt 
can be carried in one hand. Once more I back up to our guest to deliver the 
beastly little things I wish she hadn't thought of. I then kneel close to 
offer my black nipples. Even Dorothy's eyes glow while I wish it was Nancy's 
tits getting the clips instead of mine. I don't struggle or complain because 
I don't want any more pain than I have to get. 

"You have the darling trained so beautifully, Dorothy," Nancy says 
breathlessly as she rubs my nipples to make them rise. "Angelique is 
heart-breakingly beautiful the way she obeys and now kneels here without a 
single peep, even though she knows what I'm going to do. You do know, don't 
you, Angelique?" 

"Yes, Nancy, I know. I'll try and keep still." 

Nancy makes a great fuss over doing the job properly, getting the clips so 
they point up while biting my flesh. It's just a matter of practice and she 
actually does it very well. With the first bite I can't suppress a gasp and 
flinch, but I know what's good for me so I now turn enough to invite clip 
number two and do my gasp and winch all over again. When both my breasts are 
thus adorned and burning with a fire, I'm told to resume position. The clips 
bob merrily as I edge back the way I was. My breathing has quickened and I 
wonder how long Nancy will make me wear the tiny instruments of torture. 

I am much admired as I kneel for their enjoyment. I have painted nipples and 
two burning breasts and am trying hard to make no complaint. I even try to 
smile when I meet their eyes. There is nothing unusual about this, Nancy 
does it every time. Now I notice her looking repeatedly at the pubic hair on 
display, especially so because the approved submissive position includes 
having my knees spread wide, leaving my sex open. She comes up with what 
I've been nervous about. 

"Dorothy, dear, the girl's got a lovely pussy and it's sort of staring me in 
the face. What about two more clips, on her pussy lips? She can stand it." 

"No! Nancy, you're being greedy." 

"It's you who's being stingy," Nancy pouts. "Look how much lovelier I've 
made her, and she'd be lovelier still with a couple more below." 

"No. Nancy, you're a sadist. If you want to go in for torture, get a 
slavegirl of your own." 

"Okay, lend me Angelique for a week. Darling, I wish you would." 

"It's against club rules. Nancy, if you love doing things to girls, why 
don't you join the club?" 

"You know perfectly well why, it's too expensive, I can't afford it." 

"You could if you saved up like some of the others did." 

"Sure, sure, tell me about it! Dorothy, I can't possibly wait that long. 
Right now if the furnace in my belly gets any hotter, you'll have to call 
the fire department." 

"Don't be silly, Nancy, you know ever well we'll look after that for you, 
but right now." 

Dorothy is not really as upset as she seems. 

"How about letting me whip Angelique while I'm waiting?" 

Dorothy laughs. "That's forbidden, too, and the poor darling has got quite a 
few marks on her already." 

"Don't be mean!" Nancy really thinks she's being reasonable. "Give me your 
mildest whip and let me use it on her just a tiny, little bit. Maybe twenty 
strokes?" Nancy sounds heart-breakingly sincere. 

"How would it be you take your clothes off, Nancy, my pet, and let me whip 
you with your twenty tiny, little strokes. You'd be howling before you'd 
have the first five." 

Nancy relapses into a hurt silence. It won't last long but conveys a strong 
impression of an ill-used girl. Boy, am I glad I don't belong to her! No 
matter how still I try to be, the little clips on my nipples jiggle merrily. 
I love Dorothy for her determination to whip me herself without making my 
skin available to our guest, who clearly thinks herself hard done by and 
demands, "Gosh, surely there is something else I can do to this beautiful 
creature. I'm not hard to please, I'll be quite satisfied with the rack, or 
caning the soles of her feet, or something. You name it." 

"Nancy, you know damned well I don't have a rack, and no one is going to 
cane the soles of Angelique's feet while I'm around. Caning a girl's soles 
is bloody awful. How about I do it to you?" 

"Funny, funny! Well, seeing as how you're such a skinflint with the dear 
girl, can I leave her nipples black while she services me? And right now, 
why don't I rum the clamps to insure they give maximum pain? I think her 
tits are getting numb." 

Well, so much for Nancy! 

Dorothy and I laugh about Nancy afterwards. My nipples will remember her for 
quite a few hours but Dorothy has put the clips away, until next time, and 
has washed them tenderly to get rid of the black. Because I've had a painful 
evening, and because Nancy kept me working between her thighs a long time, 
I'm told my duties are over for the day. Then my mistress services me 
instead of my servicing her. Dorothy is one of the best of the twenty-five 
members, and I wish she had me more often. Or always. Maybe putting Connie 
into circulation will help me. But that is something a slavegirl never 
knows. 

The next afternoon Dorothy is not busy so she takes me visiting. 

I've become accustomed to being driven all over the city and country side 
while sitting in the front seat beside whoever owns me at that time. I no 
longer see it as a possible escape route, I am fastened far too helplessly 
for that. And since I start out in my owner's garage and end up inside the 
garage of whoever we're going to, no one ever sees me. I don't have to even 
be gagged because with the car windows shut I can yell my head off and no 
one even looks at me. It's become routine. 

Dorothy is having fun with me, we are visiting a man. Despite a few other 
similar exposures, I blush furiously and try and cover my most female parts 
with hands I do not have. This is not the first time, but up to now the 
effect on me has always been the same, I wish the floor would open and 
swallow me up. 

He is personable and no longer a boy. He is taking a full frontal assessment 
of the things I have and he is interested in. Dorothy introduces him as Tom 
Fredrick's. He is told I'm available but not for whipping. Tom Fredrick's 
shrugs as if it does not matter. And I can tell he's seen a lot of naked 
girls. My blush recedes. Tom Fredrick's is dark, almost Arabic. His voice is 
very, very male. 

"If I can't whip her, then I won't fuck her. I'll do it to you instead. Damn 
it, Dorothy, you get away with murder." 

"Tom, you're dreaming. I'm not available. I'm her to talk investments." 
Dorothy is not the least bit fazed by the promise and the four letter word. 

"Okay, we can go to my office. Do you want this girl kneeling on the floor 
with us, or do you want we should put her in the cage with Jennifer? Gets 
her out of the way." 

I longed to kick the son of a bitch but girls leg-ironed the way I was never 
kick anyone. I stood there like a piece of property while they made up their 
minds the cage would be a nice disposal of a female body Tom Fredrick's said 
he did not want. We all went down stairs. 

The cage was about a third of a largest bare room, partitioned by iron bars 
from wall to wall. The bars were sturdy enough but were also reinforced by 
horizontal metal braces about every four feet. There was also a door of bars 
and braces I wouldn't want to try and open without a key. Jennifer was as 
naked as I but without restraints. She was clutching a couple of bars and 
leaning forward against them in a pose I suspected she had been holding a 
long time. I could tell right away that our arrival was a bright spot in a 
dull day. Tom Fredrick's unlocked the door and pushed me inside and that was 
that. Tom Fredrick's and my owner lost no time in leaving us alone, so 
Jennifer and I stood there inside the cage to stare in curious surmise. 

"Has Tom bought you?" For Jennifer the question sounded ominous. 

"No, I'm parked while they talk upstairs. You mean Tom Fredrick's bought and 
paid for you?" 

"He gave me five thousand dollars for a month, I mean a month in which he 
can do anything he wants with me. I've sort of lost track but I think I've 
been here ten days." 

Tom Fredrick's was getting his money's worth in this girl. Jennifer's skin 
bore whip marks everywhere. When we swapped stories, our captivities proved 
similar except Jennifer's would end in thirty days while mine went on 
forever. When I told of the handcuffs and leg irons, Jennifer explained that 
Tom Fredrick's was a purist who used a special kind of cord only and kept 
her well tied with it about half the time. 

"He always ties me spread-eagle on the bed when he's going to rape me. I 
guess it does something for him," Jennifer explained. "But he'll tie me to 
almost anything when he's in the mood and the rest of the time I'm locked in 
here. If I had only known what I was getting into ... !" 

I wanted to hug the poor kid. I could well see how five thousand dollars as 
bait could get a girl into such a spot. 

"The way you've been whipped!" I was shocked. She bore many more marks than 
I did. "Didn't the bastard tell you about the way men love whipping girls? 
You can almost figure on it the same as being raped." 

"Well, yes he did, and that's what helped me make up my mind," Jennifer said 
apologetically. "I get five dollars for each streak the cane or the whip 
puts on my skin. I figured that along with the five thousand I'd be doing 
real good." Once more the tone of apology. "You see, I'd never been whipped 
in my life and I hadn't the faintest idea it hurt the way it does. I thought 
that maybe it would smart or burn a bit but I could easy get an extra 
hundred a day." She looked at me in search of sympathy. "I was dumb!" 

"Is he going to continue whipping you even though you're marked up so bad?" 

"I don't know. He never tells me anything." 

Damsels in distress have a lot in common besides the marks of whips. I 
gathered Jennifer had never made a lot of money and the offer seemed real 
good. Now she was trying to find consolation in Tom Fredrick's promise to 
tie her up a lot from now on. I had to envy the poor kid because her agony 
would come to an end in what seemed to me a very short time. But I had to 
ask, "You sure he'll let you go at the end of thirty days? Is there is 
chance he'll decide to keep you? Did you leave word with anyone?" 

"No, I didn't. I was so ashamed I didn't want anyone to know." 

I hadn't the heart to berate the poor girl. And, anyway, behind those bars 
there was no changing of her mind or going back on the deal any more than my 
handcuffs or leg irons allowed me. But there was no use getting her upset, 
and anyway, I had just had an inspiration. "When you get turned loose at the 
end of your thirty days, will you tell some friends of mine where I am and 
that I'm being held prisoner?" 

"Of course, but what about the police? If you've been kept prisoner the way 
I see you now for over a year, the police ought to know. Gosh, that club of 
yours could just as easily kidnap me!" 

"Okay, then tell the police. If this Fredrick's guy keeps on whipping you 
the way he's done, I'd tell the police about him, too." 

"I wonder if I should. He's paid me the five thousand and I've put it safe 
away. If he lets me loose on time and pays for the whippings, I don't really 
want to get him in trouble. I expect they'd put him in prison for a long 
time. I did make a deal with him and I haven't been able to break it because 
he keeps me locked up in this cage or tied on the bed. I just feel guilty 
about it because I was so silly." 

Jennifer puts her arms around me in a sisterly hug. "You can rely on me to 
do everything possible to get back your freedom. Gosh, to be handcuffed with 
your feet chained all the rest of your life, it's unreal!" 

We left it at that. Two girls locked inside a cage couldn't do anything 
else. 

That evening after she got me home, Dorothy played me the tape. 

In pure horror I listened to my voice talking to Jennifer and Jennifer 
talking to me. That bastard Fredrick's had the cage bugged, and I'd fallen 
right into the most obvious trap in the world. As the two girlish voices dug 
our graves deeper and deeper, I felt myself going apart at the seams. I had 
tried to escape and everyone knew the penalty for that! 

When the last words died and Dorothy turned off the recorder my actions were 
involuntary. I slid to my knees beside her to bury my head in her lap and 
sob, "I can't bear it, I can't possibly stand that awful punishment." I shed 
tears shamefully. 

"I don't suppose you can, Angelique." Dorothy's voice was saddened. "I would 
have thought you would have had more sense. Tom told me what he was doing 
and bet me you'd fall for it. I never dreamed ... ." 

Between sobs I asked, "Will Jennifer be branded and all those other things?" 

"No, why should she? Jennifer wasn't trying to escape. In fact she came 
across as a really honorable innocent in abiding by her contract. It was you 
who wanted out." 

"Can you blame me?" I was sniffing and feeling terrible about how I'd gone 
and wet Dorothy's dress with all that flood of tears. 

"No, I suppose I don't. The girls have talked about this very thing and most 
feel it is unreasonable to expect a prison to not want to escape. That's why 
the punishment is so server. We don't want a slavegirl to even think of it." 

The compassionate fingers were tender in my hair as I sobbed, "It is. it is 
... but, Dorothy dear, don't have me branded. Don't let the girls brand me, 
I couldn't handle it!" I buried my fact deeper into a familiar refuge. 

"Tell me why I shouldn't, Angelique?" 

"Because I'm frightened and because I couldn't bear that awful pain. I know 
I'm guilty, I know I did what I'm not supposed to. I know the rules say I'm 
to be punished." In as absurd and inconsistent wail, I implored, "Please 
don't punish me, please don't punish me." 

We stayed like that a long time, the slavegirl on the rug, her mistress on 
the couch. One of the old masters would have found inspiration in the 
picture of a naked slavegirl seeking absolution for her sins. I couldn't 
fail to note what a tax I was putting on Dorothy in asking her to betray the 
Sensuality Club. I realized full well I deserved some sort of punishment by 
that fatal Sensuality Club Code. I muttered, "Couldn't you whip me instead? 
Dorothy, please whip me. I think I could stand that." I dared not raise my 
head. 

"I won't whip you and I won't brand you," Dorothy said decisively. "I think 
you've just been a silly girl and acted without thinking. No one but the two 
of us need hear this tape, and I won't tell. You'd better keep quiet 
yourself." She chuckled to herself. "I expect you will." 

I loved Dorothy to distraction, and, as usual, longed for hands to show that 
love. Bitterly I condemned myself over and over until Dorothy closed my lips 
with a gentle hand. "Hush. That's not the Angelique I know, babbling away 
like a frightened child. You can think yourself lucky for belonging to me 
when it happened. Some of the others would have had you up on a trial. I 
don't know if they would have branded you or not but the best you could 
expect was a ritual whipping on the stage. Connie would have been dragged in 
to see your punishment. Angelique, darling, it's over, I've forgiven you. 
Let's not talk of it again. Just tell me that as long as you're my prisoner 
you'll be a good girl." 

"I'll be a good girl." 

I now dared raise my tear-stained face to gaze at a girl so merciful I could 
scarce believe. 

We thought it was over but it was not. 

The following day Dorothy decided to be busy. She has all these financial 
affairs I don't know anything about. Mostly she left me to my own devices 
because handcuffed and ironed the way I am I can't get into any trouble or 
even dream of escaping. Dinky has been trained so well to rebuff my pleas 
for help that I'm quite safe. However there are days when Dorothy feels I 
ought to suffer a little. On those days I get tied up. It happens to me now. 

In one of the downstairs rooms, and this isn't a dungeon but just a plain 
old bare room, there's a metal pole dead center which runs from floor to 
ceiling and is four inches in diameter. It makes a perfect way to park me 
for the day. It's already been equipped with two snaps which latch on to my 
belt and my collar. All Dorothy has to do is back me up and I hear a couple 
of clicks. That's the end of Angelique until someone comes to unlock me. 
When my belt is clicked it happens between my forearms and holds my hands a 
prison even more than they usually are. The click on my neck makes me stand 
very straight. I can't do much of anything except stand. And what girl wants 
to stand up for nine hours at a time! Boy, do I ever know what it means to 
be a nine to fiver, gee whiz! 

That's the way I get fixed, beautifully simple and safe. And that's the way 
I'm going to stand until Dorothy comes home. She acknowledges it as a 
punishment and says that maybe that it is some sort of punishment for my 
attempt at escape. I say, "Thank you, darling," and brace myself to suffer. 

Having done her worse, Dorothy goes about her own affairs and leaves me 
wishing I hadn't done whatever it was that got me in this fix. It's terribly 
lonely and Dinky checking in every couple of hours isn't all that much help. 
Dinky doesn't linger and doesn't show any sign of letting me loose. 
Sometimes she brings me a glass of water, but that's the only comfort. 

I get so damned tired and so utterly bored. I fought all day the first time, 
trying to get loose. I still try each time I'm put on the pole but I haven't 
made any progress. I sometimes cry but there's no one there to see and 
afterwards I cannot dry my tears. Being a slavegirl isn't all that good a 
deal. 

I don't know what else to call this except punishment. I am bound and can't 
even see the snaps that hold me. In way of adding punishment, Dinky shows up 
with a gag she says I have to wear for the rest of the afternoon. I point 
out there is no one to talk to and I'm not screaming, so why bother? But I 
might as well save my breath, Dinky makes me open my mouth and clamps the 
horrible thing on my tongue. It's not one of the balls, it's some kind of 
metal clamp that fills my mouth and holds my lips closed tight. The metal 
inside even holds my tongue! It's horrible! The only sounds I can made are 
sad moans. Four hours later Dinky checks on me. I moan at her but she 
ignores it. I would have promised to get down on my knees and lick her sex 
feverishly if she would only get that damned gag out of my mouth. But I 
can't tell her that and she pats my left breast with her wonderfully free 
hand and goes away. 

I long to scream. 

When Dorothy comes to unfasten me, I go into a act I'm always ashamed of 
afterwards. I fall to my knees in outrageous gratitude. After all, it was 
this woman who put me there in the first place. Then I thrust my face into 
the legs, my mouth just about where it could offer tribute to this woman if 
she had her clothes off. Afterwards we go to dinner. 

Dorothy, I think, loves that little scene where I get very humble. 

The days pass by, bringing boredom, discomfort and occasional pleasure in my 
mistress' bed. Sometimes the discomfort is really much more. There is the 
Pit. The Pit is very simple. It is simply a hole in the floor in which a 
girl is lowered so that her chin is just above the surface. There is a 
wooden plank in two parts, like a stock, which encloses my neck. There is a 
lock that holds the halves together and the whole thing to the floor. There 
I stand, my naked body below and out of sight, and my head above the floor 
level. What a strange perspective one gets looking up at the world from the 
floor! How helpless it makes one feel! It's horrible. 

I asked Dorothy what happens with any girl who is not a slave and isn't 
handcuffed and leg-ironed when she's put in this hole. She says sometimes 
she's just left free but naked under the wood, she can't get out, and 
sometimes she is tied so very tight that it is a punishment. I don't know 
the gleam in her eyes as she says that. This is a punishment but I guess it 
could be worse. I could be one of those girls who is tied tightly with cord 
and left in the Pit for hours. Since the Pit is in the basement, any cries 
or screams would not get out of the house. I can imagine how horrible it 
would be to be so bound and left alone. Perhaps in the dark. Perhaps even 
gagged. I shutter at the helplessness. 

You get so terribly tired and there's not a thing you can do. You can't move 
enough to ease the aches. After a while the wood chaffs your neck. It's one 
of those cases where a girl would like to play with herself simply as an act 
of desperation to fight the endless hours. But I can't do that, I can't do 
anything. I've tried pulling one hand around to my front, straining the 
fingers towards my sex, hoping that I can perhaps reach it just enough to 
tease the right spot. But I fail. I can't even reach my breasts. The only 
stimulation I can generate is to grab my own ass and squeeze. That helps 
some but is not enough to bring a blessed orgasm, it only makes my hornier. 

Dinky does sometimes stay a little while when I'm in the Pit. She goes to 
the wall and pulls a lever. The first time I stood in fear of water filling 
the pit or an electric shock or some other painful occurrence. None of them 
happened. But suddenly my foot was aware of motion. Something was on my 
foot, something alive. 

"It's mice," Dinky explains kindly. "There's seven of them. You'll have so 
much fun." 

She leaves. Perhaps my screams and pleas were bothering her ears. Every girl 
knows the reason she's so scared of the little furry animals. We're scared 
they'll run up our legs and then into our sex. I don't suppose that's even 
possible but the fear is there. Our imaginations tell us we've got a wide 
open part of us that attracts mice. We know it can't be true but it's still 
terrible. 

I stand there, frozen with fear, as the small rodents tease and tickle my 
skin with their tiny whiskers. I dare not stamp on the creatures for fear 
that I wouldn't kill them and they would attack. For a long time they 
content themselves with crawling over my feet and terrifying me. After a 
long while I realize that there has been no contact with them. Perhaps they 
have grown bored and escaped back up the passage that Dinky opened. Dorothy 
and Dinky finally come to hoist me up to a world that has no mice. 

Dorothy laughed the whole thing off, saying mice never ate girls, so what 
was I worrying about. I didn't argue because I was so grateful to be out of 
the Pit. 

For Dorothy I was a delightful pet, in the true manner of the Sensuality 
Club's concept of the girl they would pass from hand to hand. Mostly we 
loved each other the way girls do. But now and then her conscious would 
bother her and she would feel that she had to punish me somehow to keep a 
proper balance. We talked and laughed about it but couldn't think of a 
better way for a mistress to treat her slave so that's the way it was. I 
never enjoyed the punishments she imposed but I knew they could be one hell 
of a lot worse. I simply put up with them. I wished Dorothy could have kept 
me always. 

After the Pit and Mouse affair, Dorothy and I had several days of girl-girl 
stuff without any problem. It was wonderful until she thoughtfully said one 
evening, "I really should do something to you, darling. I'm spoiling you 
rotten. I'd like to clip you to the post again, you look so sweet standing 
like that. Would you like that?" 

"I don't want anything," I say firmly. "But I know I'm going to get 
something. What's it going to be? Standing at the post all day is a drag." 

"I'm not suppose to let you have a thing to say about it, Angelique my 
sweet. But suppose I let you stay in the pillory. I can't put your head and 
hands in the way they ought to be because your hands are behind your back. 
But you can certainly stand there with your head in the yoke." She giggled, 
"You'd stand and stand and stand." 

"Thanks. I'd prefer the cage." 

I knew half of this was a tease and the other half deadly serious. Dorothy 
was enjoying every moment and studying my face for reactions. "It's so 
difficult," she said, "coming up with something different every time. Don't 
you have some ideas?" 

"How about locking the long leash under my bed on my collar and letting me 
sleep?" 

"That's impertinence and I'll remember it. Look, darling, I just had the 
cutest notion. How would it be I put a knock in that hair of yours and ran a 
rope from it up to the ceiling so you just simply stand? I'll give Dinky 
orders to give your bottom a good, hard spank every hour just so you won't 
be bored. I think this one's rather sweet." 

I hate having my hair mussed up but I have to agree with Dorothy. I'm going 
to get tired and ticked off with anything she does to me but standing isn't 
too bad and I guess I can put up with Dinky's swatting my bottom now and 
then. The most I could get that way would be eight strokes. Even with a 
whip, that wouldn't be too bad. Not compared to a regular whipping. I catch 
Dorothy's amused eye and say simply, "Thank you very much." 

I stood still while my hair was tied into a knot with the rope inside. 
Dorothy then hoisted it up to tug at my scalp. She then kissed me and off 
she went. 

I stood there feeling untidy. Standing is bad any way you look at it. If 
you're tied up, the ropes give a bit of support but with my hands in 
handcuffs all I could do was stand. 

I could move my arms and legs as much as ever. Not to any purpose but enough 
to stop being cramped and aching. I would suffer fatigue and Dinky's hourly 
visit which turned out to be with a cane in hand. Gloomily I was looking 
forward to each visit just to break the terrible boredom. She had me strung 
up taut enough so I couldn't take a step in any direction without my scalp 
crying out. After a while I just stood there, meekly and passively but not 
with my head bowed. There was no way I was going to bow my head! 

Dinky seemed very slow in coming. Dinky was always bright and cheery, "You 
ready for me to cut your pretty ass with this cane, Miss Angelique? I aims 
to give it all I got." 

Under Dinky's watching eyes I stuck out my bottom as best I could. Not that 
I wanted to, but she insisted. It didn't go any good to the pain in my head 
from pulled hair but that didn't seem to matter to her. Dinky was very happy 
and I suspected she had been wanting to do this a very long time. I heard a 
swish before everything below my waist was consumed by flame. When the fire 
died down, I stood up and said a meek, "Thank you. Dinky." 

"You're very welcome, Miss Angelique." Dinky patted my sore bottom then went 
away to leave me standing unhappily and trying to reach the strip I had just 
acquired. 

That was my day, weariness and frustration and boredom to a point where I 
was actually grateful for the mark Dinky placed on my skin once an hour. I 
got my eighth stroke just minutes before Dorothy's return and was striving 
to massage my pain when she burst in upon her punished prisoner and I knew 
right away something bad had happened. Without releasing me she kissed and 
clutched as though she was the victim and not I. Her arms felt so good, so 
very good. 

"Angelique, darling, something's happened. The club's got itself a new 
member and she's been given permission to possess you for the next two 
weeks. She's coming to take delivery after dinner tonight. Oh, darling, I'm 
so terribly sorry!" 

"I suppose I was about due to be passed on," I say unhappily. "What's her 
name?" 

"It's Nancy Turpin!" 

 Chapter 5 Nancy Turpin 

I wanted Angelique so bad it hurt. I went away from Dorothy's place that 
evening knowing I would have to do something about it. But doing something 
about it was actually very easy because I knew all the girls and they always 
figured I'd be a member whenever I could afford it. Saving up the money 
would take far too long, I'd bum up with desire long before then. So I sold 
that lovely old piece of Chinese pottery Grandma left me, the price I got 
for it was ample to insure my membership in the Sensuality Club and I was 
given the nicest welcome. When I asked for darling Angelique for a couple of 
weeks there was some doubts and discussions. But they had a new girl named 
Connie and that helped. I got the girl of my dreams. I've have never been so 
breathless for so long. It was agreed that my initiation could wait a couple 
of weeks until I passed Angelique on to another girl, and it was made pretty 
clear that if there was any evidence that I abused Angelique, my initiation 
would be correspondingly painful. I could have cared less, I was so damned 
happy. 

I had to laugh when I took possession of my slavegirl, poor Dorothy had her 
doubts about me and Angelique was frankly scared. The poor darling was 
remembering the things I had wanted to do to her, and now I could do them 
and she was helpless, Having her helpless was a gorgeous sensation. 

Dorothy wanted my slavegirl to sit beside me in the front seat of the car. 
She said that we could tie her ankles tight and that was all that was needed 
to keep her safe. That was the way they had always done it. I pointed out 
how ridiculous it was for a slavegirl to share the same comforts as her 
mistress, and the proper place for dear Angelique was in the trunk with her 
elbows tied tight and a nice gag firm in her mouth. Once more I had to cope 
with Dorothy's distress over what she said was being mean, and this I did 
this firmly. 

"You've spoiled the dear girl," I pointed out reasonably. "If you had her 
around much longer it would be you who wore the handcuffs. Stop being silly. 
What I am going to do with Angelique will do her a world of good." 

Dorothy gulped. Probably her guilty conscious about being too soft on a 
slavegirl. The Rules taught us all that being too easy on our slavegirls was 
a thing to avoid. Slavegirls were to always know their place. I'll hand it 
to Angelique that she kept quiet during this discussion. She'd been well 
trained and was probably scared to say a word. 

I brought my own strap for Angelique's elbows. I should have used rope but 
know how Dorothy would feel about that. The sweet thing stood still while I 
buckled her arms back tight. She then opened her mouth in the nicest way for 
the gag. As I strapped it tight my heart was thudding so hard I thought 
they'd hear. The three of us then went down to my car. I thought Dorothy's 
heart was going to break as she said goodbye to my new possession. Angelique 
couldn't say a thing. Dorothy kissed and fondled those lovely breasts that 
were sticking out so nicely under the thrust of my strap. I let her carry on 
for a while, contenting myself with the thought that those large breasts 
were going to be mine, all mine. 

But enough is enough. I said sharply that perhaps I should leave them alone 
so they could go to bed. Angelique couldn't step into the trunk so Dorothy 
and I took half each and lifted her over and in onto the rug I had there. We 
watched her wiggled to find the most comfortable way to lie before we 
slammed down the lid. Dorothy and I had always been the best of friends but 
I could tell she was wishing none of this had to happen. But she put on a 
brave face and kissed my goodbye as though she meant it. I drove away in a 
state of excitement beyond anything I had ever know. My pulse was pounding 
out a rhythm in my mind, "I've got her, I've got her, I'VE GOT HER!" 

It's quite a ride to my place. By the time I got into the garage and opened 
the lid I could see Angelique was scared. I'd never thought about being tied 
up and naked in the trunk of a car but I suppose it isn't really all that 
much fun. I decided to leave the gag strapped tight for a few more minutes 
because it really did a lot for her. Most gags are horrible and don't do 
anything for any girl. But the one I used was maybe a bit cruel but it had 
nice artistic qualities I valued. I'm sure Angelique didn't like it but it 
was something she would have to put up with. 

Getting slavegirl out of the trunk was easily than getting her in. She 
helped all she could and I soon had her standing on the garage floor. 
Angelique's collar and belt and the handcuffs and leg irons are the property 
of the club and have to stay on her all the time. The girls really hammered 
it into me about never giving the girl a chance to escape. They weren't 
being mean but just cautious. For sure Angelique would not escape from me! 

It wasn't terribly late so I took my slavegirl up to the lounge where I 
unstrapped her elbows and took the gag out of her mouth. She said a polite, 
"Thank you, Nancy," and then, without being told, knelt on the rug to await 
my pleasure. I was brimming over with lust. 

Angelique's been beautifully trained and in that way I'm extra lucky because 
I don't have to teach her. When I decide to be mean it will simply be for 
the sake of being mean. I will be the severe mistress, ruthlessly dominating 
a chained maiden who's nakedness was all mine. I was almost panting and 
could hardly keep my hands or eyes off this beautiful and most certainly 
sexy woman. "She's mine, she's mine, she's mine," kept running through my 
mind. 

I didn't want a tipsy slave so made coffee instead of sipping brandy. I 
couldn't bear to be apart from this gorgeous creature I owned for the next 
two weeks so told her to stand up. When she did I bit her nipples and palmed 
her puss with the assurance of ownership. Angelique didn't say a word but 
stood passively for me to use her body while her hands were fastened safely 
behind her. I would have kept her elbows strapped were I not a little afraid 
of harming her. I had her follow me to the kitchen, and then had her sit and 
watch while I did the work for both of us. 

I was chatty to break the ice to give Angelique a chance to get used to me 
and know what was expected of her. Or maybe I should say what she might 
expect from me. Unexpected it was Angelique who started things off. 

"I hope you like me, Nancy. I'll try and do the things you want. I've been 
very well trained." 

Angelique is far from being a child but the sweet innocent of her statement 
grabbed me so hard I bent down and kissed her nipples then played with her 
breasts while she sat motionless for my convenience until, with the same 
childish innocence, she asked, "Would you like me to stand so you can touch 
all of me?" She stared up into my eyes and actually smiled. I almost melted. 

"Nancy, I'm a pretty pet, you know. I'm supposed to be played with for my 
owner's pleasure. I'm not embarrassed anymore." 

"You're so damned perfect, you almost embarrass me." 

Her grin was actually pert. "If I'm not perfect, I'm punished so I'm 
perfect. I try to be. It's not easy being a slavegirl. But I guess you know 
that." 

"Why should I?" 

Angelique shrugged. "Well, the things you did to me and said you would like 
to do. You know what you want from a slavegirl and you know it is going to 
hurt her. And I guess you also know there's nothing I can do about it except 
be obedient and hope to please." 

"While all the time you'd love to slap my face." 

"I've been taught my feelings don't matter." 

I was fascinated. This lovely creature had a mind and used it. I would whip 
her tomorrow after having her give me release in bed tonight. But her mind 
was bonus it would give me pleasure to explore. I asked the obvious, "Don't 
you hate us all for what the girls have made of you?" 

"I was at first but what's the use. I can't possibly escape, you all keep me 
a prisoner. And since most of the girls are kind and we shared a lot of 
laughs I'd be crazy to live with a chip on my shoulder. I've been enslaved 
and that's the end of it." 

"But doesn't having your hands fastened behind your back drive you up the 
wall?" 

"You get used to that in time." Angelique grinned. "As far as I'm concerned 
I don't have hands anymore." 

It was fine to grin at your mistress but I thought it best to strike a sober 
note. "You expect to be whipped tomorrow?" 

"I expected to be whipped tonight." 

She was getting ahead of me so my voice was sharp, "You want that?" 

"No. But you were so interested in asking Dorothy to allow you to whip me I 
naturally supposed ..." 

"Don't the Rules forbid a slavegirl thinking?" 

"You're right, they do. I'm sorry. Please punish me." 

This was far, far out. I stared awestruck. "You're having me on?" 

"Not according to the Rules. That's the response I'm suppose to make 
whenever I offend." 

"I actually will whip you tomorrow, Angelique, my beauty. How does knowing 
about it affect you?" 

"At the start, long ago, I would have been awake all night but now I'll 
simply say thank you, Nancy, and put it out of my mind until it starts to 
happen." 

"Can you really do that!" 

She tossed her lovely golden hair and shrugged. "Well, about half the time." 

"I have some other things besides the whip." 

"Most of the other girls have got those things, too. I try not to scream 
unless they want me to." 

"If this girl hadn't been a prisoner of the club for over a year I would 
have figured she was putting me on. But a prisoner that long might well be 
trained that well. I could see a few fading marks from prior whippings on 
her skin. Perhaps some of those marks were even from Dorothy. 

"Was Dorothy one of those who wanted you to scream?" 

"She preferred me to be silent so I did my best." She smiled meekly. "You 
see, it hurts so terribly. I often think it hurts a girl far more than 
another girl can realize unless it's been done to her. Honest, the pain 
really is hard to endure." 

This really got to me. It would have been so easy to kiss and hug that girl, 
and reassure her about not making it hurt too bad. But I realize that I've 
never been whipped so what do I know about it. And, anyway, I mustn't go 
soft the first night together. Perhaps a comprise. 

"I won't pretend I won't hurt you, Angelique, we both know I will. But I'll 
try to remember what you said. If you were allowed to have your hands free, 
I'd allow you to give me one really awful stroke so I would know what it was 
like. But you can't do it. Maybe I'll get one of the other girls. Dorothy 
probably would." 

While we finish our coffee I tried to embarrass this lovely plaything by 
frankly discussing her breasts, tits, pussy and sex. But Angelique is not 
the least bit embarrassed and discusses herself with an innocent frankness. 
I could easily realize Angelique had been forced to talk about her body 
before. I guess that is a part of slavery. Angelique was way ahead of me in 
some areas. When I took her up to bed both of us here quivering. 

I'd never done it with a chained girl and the way Angelique slithered around 
on the covers was a pure delight. She no longer needed hands because she'd 
figured out every motion to perfection. My favorite position is for me to 
stand with hands clasp behind my back and feet apart for the other girl to 
kneel between my legs. That way everything she could possibly need stares 
her in the face. Angelique was perfect. Boy, has she been trained! 

Oh, wow! 

A girl to be whipped must first be tied. I can't see it any other way. 
During breakfast we discussed the many ways she has been tied by other girls 
and I pick up a lot of useful hints. Angelique discusses being tied to be 
whipped with her usual unconcern as though we were talking about the 
weather. I gather some of the girls have been really inventive with benches 
and frames and things to make me feel my resources inadequate. But when I 
speak of this, Angelique assures me that the best possible way to whip a 
girl is to raise her hands up high behind her back and there she is. The 
handcuffs work fine. With a quaint modesty she tells of other bindings 
designed to expose her sex and make it easy to whip her thighs. My slavegirl 
eats normally but I do not. I am a quivering bundle of desire and can hardly 
wait to hear my slavegirl scream. When I explain I would like her to scream, 
she innocently states that it is something easily arranged. Holly cow! 

This is it! I know my slavegirl is frightened but that's the way it should 
be. If she kept up the perfect submission while I whip her the way I intend, 
I would have to be cruel. I want Angelique to scream. I want to make her 
scream so damned bad! I make a frank admission of this to see how she 
reacts. But even though she shivers in fright, she tells how other girls 
have said the same thing and how she can understand the way it is. She does 
not ask for mercy. 

In my past fantasies I have always envisioned binding her hands together and 
raising them above her head to hold her taut with every inch of her 
loveliness exposed. Girls have such beautiful curves to make my mouth water. 
But with Angelique's handcuffs behind her back I don't see how I can 
possibly get the same effect. I consider unlocking the handcuffs and binding 
her wrists but this is against what the girls told me. I tell Angelique my 
problem. "That way would be nice," she admits thoughtfully. "Even if you 
hung me upside down my arms would still be in the way. Unless all you wanted 
to do was cane my bottom." She paused as though struggling for decision. "To 
raise my arms high enough behind wrenches my shoulders quite terribly. But I 
have to tell you it's quite possible to be done. It's been done to me. If 
you want to whip all of my back, I'm afraid that's the way you'll have to 
go." 

If I don't do something quick, I'll explode. I have a hanging tether with a 
hook at its end. I fix the hook in Angelique's handcuffs and pull on the 
other end of the rope. Immediately she bends forward as her arms go up and 
her bottom sticks out so beautifully that I pause and wonder if I need go 
further. But Angelique instantly comes up with, "This position is only good 
for my bottom, Nancy. I thought you wanted to whip my back?" 

I did. But that beautiful bottom sticking out there ... . 

Her voice was quivering as she said, "You can leave me this way and whip my 
bottom. When you're finished with it, you can raise my arms up higher to 
expose my back. Nancy, I'm going to scream." 

It was quite wonderful. I don't suppose my slave's bottom was any more tight 
or exposed than if I had had her bend and touch her toes. But the knowledge 
of her being fastened and unable to get away from anything I chose to do was 
worth a million dollars, it crinkled my cunt and prompted me to chose the 
whippiest cane I had. From the first blow Angelique took me into an 
enchanted land beyond my dreams. 

We both knew she could do a lot of movement if she chose, even to turning in 
a complete circle. But she did not move and took my first few cuts with the 
softest of sounds and a slight weaving of hips. Her bottom remained an easy 
target. I slashed it savagely to make her straighten up and stamp one 
shackled foot. As she did that her arms sort of pulled up to bring the 
handcuffs closer to her neck. She did not hold the pose beyond one more 
stroke, I guess it was too awkward or too painful. Quickly she bent forward 
again with her hands held well above the tight curves I knew I could whip 
forever. In recognition of this obedience, I made her next stroke lighter 
than all the rest. 

"Why haven't you asked how many I'm going to give you, Angelique? I'm 
curious." 

"Mostly the girls don't tell, it's worse when I don't know." 

This pause is pure delight. Angelique's breathing is mixed with gasps and 
even when I cease the strokes, her hips still weave and she makes small, 
nervous motions with chained feet. I assure myself this is the quintessence 
of every fantasy, that I no longer need wonder what the sound is like when 
lash impacts on maiden skin. I try to name the sound, straps or crops might 
make sounds of impact for which there is a word, but now I think only of cut 
and splat and thunk. There is also the sound of violins. I cut her curves 
again. This time Angelique screams to make my happiness complete. 

Actually I am a novice but I wish to make myself a connoisseur of maiden 
suffering. It would be too easy to flail away in a frenzy of lust to drive 
this girl into a fearful hysteria by wondering into what dark hell she has 
been delivered. I have considered keeping Angelique fastened for the whip 
throughout the day and perhaps I will. I can visit her often and space her 
total punishment, and my own joy, across the hours in varied inflictions on 
her skin. It is so wonderful that I am the mistress over this slavegirl. 

I tell Angelique of my wish to prolong her agony and am rewarded with a 
little "Thank you" which tells me she is relieved by the spacing out of 
punishment. I would have thought she would prefer to get it over with. But I 
expect she was accustomed in immobility and standing there didn't bother her 
so. By the end of the fourth hour I had caned Angelique's curves enough. 
This punishment was going to have to last me a while, I couldn't possibly 
whip the poor girl every day. But my voice trembled with eagerness as I 
explained, "I'm not going to raise your arms all the way, Angelique, dear." 

It was beautiful and it was terrible. As my slave's bare arms rose slowly to 
evoke an owner's gasps and the distressful shifting of shackled feet. The 
effect was to do away with the lovely bend and curves and replace them with 
a stressed torso who's shoulders would come close to dislocation before the 
upward raising of the handcuffed wrists would cease. When my slavegirl began 
to moan I presumed I had gone far enough. Anyway, her back was no totally 
exposed. I gazed upon it's virgin skin in a hunger I could appease in only 
one way. I picked up my choice of whips and ran its thong lovingly through 
my fingers. Stretched thus, Angelique could not move. 

My aim was flawless. The scarlet streak springing to live was fittingly 
accompanied by my slavegirl's scream. It was a beautiful scream, she had her 
heart in it. I did not strike immediately again but stood in awe to watch 
this creation of my own stand panting in a posture perhaps every bit as 
painful as the whip. Those handcuffs cut deeply into innocent wrists. I 
could not leave her thus for long and had to get on with it. The next stroke 
encircled her waist. I then allowed the rope to fall. I'll never know if it 
was the slave's training or the slave's true feelings that prompted her to 
say, "Thank you, Mistress," from her knees. 

At that moment I could easily have called it a day. 

But a mistress must be a mistress and I did not want Angelique to think me 
weak. But just the same I raised her erect and held her very close while 
kissing her savagely on the mouth and breasts. She was gorgeous, gorgeous 
beyond belief! It was with reluctance I positioned her again and re-engaged 
the hook. I'll have to speak to my fellow members about moving a girl's 
hands from back to front that she might be properly whipped and then left to 
stand for as long as a mistress wishes. Angelique did not even whimper when 
I raised her arms. 

I was learning more about myself than about slaves. I had always thought 
myself a bitch but Angelique's perfection in enslavement was giving food for 
thought. With unseemly speed, as though ashamed of what I did, I raised her 
arms to the full limit of endurance, and then whipped her back again and 
again but without full force. Guiltily I once more let down the arms and 
listened to the screams quiet. Once more I held a sweating nakedness very 
close indeed. 

My fingers traced the wounds raising upon skin that was without blemish. It 
was blemished now and I was the bitch behind the thong. I held my slavegirl 
for a long, long time. 

It was not yet time for lunch. It is awful to think how little time it takes 
to whip a girl. But at least my hunger had been appeased and the need to 
whip Angelique more was no longer urgent. I had the darling for fourteen 
days so why exhaust my lust immediately? I led her to the lounge and poured 
us both a stiff brandy. I needed mine and from the way she gulped tier's, I 
knew she needed it as much. Suddenly we were a pair of girls sitting on a 
couch. 

"Why didn't you raise my arms again and whip me more, Nancy?" my incredible 
slave asked. 

"Enough is enough," I said with a fine mistressy finality. "Surely you don't 
want me to take you back and do it over!" 

"No, of course not. I just want to say thank you for being kind." She came 
to a blushing pause. "You were being kind even if you don't realize it" 

"Have you ever been whipped that bad before?" 

"Yes. I thought you knew. I've been whipped terribly several times in the 
past year. But they've been punishments because I've been naughty." 

"For instance?" 

"Well, once for impertinence. And another was for arguing. That sort of 
thing. I had been properly warned so I can't say I was not fairly treated." 

"Did I treat you fairly?" 

"No, of course not. You were whipping me out of caprice. You wanted to see 
me in pain. Since you are my mistress for two weeks, I cannot make 
complaint. I am simply grateful it is over." 

I adored her and could easily understand Dorothy's feelings. Looking down at 
her as she knelt, I found myself wondering what it was like for a girl to 
have her wrists handcuffed forever behind her back. I squelched sympathy and 
knew I would have to watch myself and hold the line against a degree of 
submission more power than whips. I laughed but said, "Would you enjoy clips 
on your nipples, darling?" 

"No. But thank you anyway." 

"But suppose I put them on you?" 

"Then I will wear them. Oh, Nancy, it's so terribly simple, you can do 
anything you want with me. Please don't tease." 

"It pleases me to clip your nipples." 

"Very well, then, I will stick them out. There, you see, I am a well-trained 
slave." 

Angelique was glorious, so were her nipples which she thrust to point at me. 
Once more I was defeated by an emotion I could not name. I retorted, "All 
right, all right, don't worry I'm not going to put the clips on your nipples 
or anywhere else right now. Dorothy stopped me putting them on your pussy 
lips and maybe that's something I will really do. Right now I want you to 
tell me of some of the punishments other girls have given you. Come on, 
don't be shy." 

"May I have some more brandy, Nancy?" 

"I was hard on you, wasn't I?" 

"Well, yes, I suppose so. Don't give me the brandy if you don't think I 
deserve it." 

Right then I would have given her anything and kicked myself for doing it. I 
poured brandy and held it to her lips with tender, loving care. I was more 
and more sympathizing with Dorothy, this girl was a witch. 

"I really don't get tortured a great deal." Once more Angelique's voice was 
apologetic as if wishing she had numerous tortures to relate. "No many girls 
have what you would call instruments of torture. But one of them has a rack 
and she stretched me on it enough to scare me to death and hurt quite a bit, 
mostly my ankles and wrists where the ropes cut as she turned the wheel. But 
it wasn't really dramatic because after a while she had to let me loose. My 
hands and feet were going purple." Angelique contrived a chuckle. "I guess 
when a girl is really and truly racked by a torturer, those little things 
don't count. Anyway, that's how it was with me. 

"Oh, I almost forgot, I also got whipped a little between my legs. But it 
wasn't a very bad whip and I didn't scream much." 

"This is interesting, carry on." 

"There was the girl who suspended me by my big toes, but she got in trouble 
with the girls because she might have damaged me real bad, and none of the 
members want a damaged slave. They gave her the choice of being kicked out 
of the Sensuality Club or taking twenty hard strokes with a really beastly 
whip. She chose the whip and the club made quite a deal out of it, an 
evening's entertainment up on the stage. I felt sorry for her as she 
screamed. Especially when two girls pulled her legs far apart and the girl 
with the whip slashed up inside. I would have asked them to be more kind if 
I hadn't been gagged at the time. They always gag a girl when she's got 
something to say." 

"Sounds reasonable to me," I said helpfully. "How's she treated you since?" 

"The rotation hasn't taken me around to her yet. But I expect you'll be 
amused by the girl who stuck me on the pole." Angelique was in full stride. 
"It should have been a plank set on its edge with sharp sides close together 
but I guess that was too awful for any of them to allow, so all I got was a 
pole. I guess you know about the horse?" 

"No, I don't." 

"It's pretty simple," Angelique mused. "They sit a naked girl on anything 
with sharp edges like a plank and stretch her feet as far as they will go to 
either side so she can't fall off. They raise her arms up behind her back. 
There she sits with her full weight on her pussy and whatever sharp thing it 
is she's sitting on. It isn't a bit nice and after a while even a round pole 
got so I couldn't bear it and I started to scream. Fortunately the girl who 
did this to me had invited guests and it was them who insisted on her taking 
me off. She caned my bottom instead. The Sensuality Club doesn't really 
believe in torture." 

"Are you warning me, dear?" 

"No, of course not. AH you've done is whip me and that's not torture at all. 
Not as long as it's done with an approved whip." 

The lovely hurt voice trailed off into silence. I could well imagine 
Angelique thinking back to the agonies endured at the hands of club members. 

"You say being whipped is not torture, how bad is it?" 

"Oh, that!" Angelique positively laughed. "It hurts beyond bearing. It's so 
bloody awful during those first moments you want to die. But after a while 
the pain spreads itself out all over and the place where the whip cut your 
skin becomes a slow burn which makes a girl shockingly horny." 

"You're horny now?" 

"Yes. I'm terribly sorry." 

"Don't be sorry. Would you like me to whip up between your legs?" 

My slavegirl looks at me mournfully. "I would only last through one or two 
strokes and then I would be screaming again." A pause and then she raised 
her chin defiantly. "It's still early in the day and you can do anything you 
want." 

"That sounds as if you want me to whip you again." 

"I know it does. I'm crazy. But when a girl gets sexually aroused beyond a 
certain point, that's about all you can do with her." 

Then she suggests that she is talking silly and we should change the 
subject. Well, that sounds too much like she's talking equality with me, 
suggesting what we should talk about. The Sensuality Club is very strict 
about that, a slavegirl is a slavegirl. I should whip Angelique until she 
becomes once more submissive and demure. But my taste for the thong has 
diminished as I watch the marks I've put there rise up and glow their 
scarlet scald. Surely there must be something else, and I realize how 
totally I have been obsessed with the whipping of girls, forgetting the 
other things so easily inflicted on a helpless, naked girl. I say, "I'm not 
going to punish you any more now. I'm still learning about punishing girls. 
I will think up a simple punishment that you won't like and then try it on 
you. How does that sound?" 

I get a look sort of like a smile and a retort, "Sure, why not!" 

She is maintaining equality. I wonder if she knows! Perhaps it has become 
commonplace during her year of slavery to discuss punishment with the girl 
who will inflict it. No doubt striving towards a happy medium of pain she 
can endure. I am forced to realize Angelique is more experienced in the 
matter of enslavement than I. Somehow, without seeming to try, I must regain 
initiative. 

"Never mind, darling, I've just thought of something I'll enjoy. I've got a 
little cage just made to fit a girl and after lunch I'm going to put you 
inside and lock the door. It's something I can't imagine you enjoying." I 
tell her this with a full feeling of control. Then she defeats me. 

"Thank you, Nancy. I'm sure that will work out very well. I've been told 
about these little, cages and how awful they are if she's kept inside too 
long. I'm sure I'll become very well behaved." 

Gosh, what the hell else can I do! 

Lunch is delightful. I never tire of watching Angelique's breasts hover 
above her plate. It occurs to me how sweet they would appear with the little 
clips alive on the nipples. It's wonderful how owning Angelique removes 
urgency. 

I'm not rich like most of the rest, so I don't have maids or cooks or 
servants, just this old house I inherited. Lunch, therefore, is just 
sandwiches. She eats so well with her hands handcuffed behind her back. What 
a strange thought that this lovely girl will be handcuffed all the rest of 
her life. Jeepers! 

I sort of apologize to Angelique for the lack of splendor in my home. The 
luxury she's used to isn't here. But she shrugs that off by pointing out 
that the more money a mistress has the more likely she is to have cells down 
in the basement or a dungeon. I laugh at the vision of that and then feel a 
bitch when I think of the little cage in which this gorgeous creature will 
soon crouch. We are both aware I do not have to punish Angelique at all but 
simply keep her prisoner and enjoy her company. But two weeks seems so 
little time in which to do all the lovely things possible to the body of a 
girl. I don't want to waste a minute and am now increasingly aware of 
wanting to whip Angelique all over again. As I eat my sandwich and think of 
her jerking under the thong, I am aware of heat. There is nothing I can do 
to Angelique from which I can get so great a happiness as placing marks on 
her skin, and I realize she has a lot of skin still untouched. It is 
potently there. 

I speak to Angelique of this hunger in my flesh. 

Angelique does not answer right away with quiet assurances of submission, 
but quietly thinks of what I say. "If the urge to whip me is that strong, 
Nancy, you almost have to do it. If you don't, it's going to bother you and 
it will be something between us we do not share." She eyed me doubtfully. "I 
desperately don't want to be whipped again. But if it's something you must 
do, then it's something you must do." 

"Do the other girls feel as guilty as I do after they've whipped you?" 

Angelique's laugh is almost gay. "I'm always hurting too much to know what 
they're feeling. But I'm sure I'm hurting much more than they are. I don't 
think they do feel guilty. We both know I'm a slave and a girl doesn't have 
to feel guilty for whipping a slave. You'll get used to owning me after a 
while and then you won't feel guilty." Anxiously she adds, "Are you really 
going to whip me again today, Nancy? Don't feel you have to." 

This girl is just too much! I take her downstairs and lock her in the cage. 

Owning Angelique is more of a problem than I had ever dreamed. It's not her, 
it's me! I no sooner come back up stairs than I'm lonely. I've taken this 
two weeks off from my job and I'm not like the other girls with their 
investments and things. I keep thinking of that lovely girl with her arms 
handcuffed behind her back and her legs bend up around her chin so she can 
fit into that small wire mesh cage in the corner of my basement. Angelique 
had given me a grin as I left her alone but she can scarcely move and can't 
be enjoying herself all that much. I should have left her upstairs so we 
could talk and I would hear some more about her slavery. I might also have 
taken her for a ride in the car. This ride in the car bit is another thing 
with which I was becoming intrigued with. This time I wouldn't put her in 
the trunk but let her sit beside me as Dorothy wanted. The fact was 
Angelique had got under my skin and I needed her a lot more than she needed 
me. After all, any girl who is owned by twenty-five other girls cannot 
possibly be too dependent on any one. 

I was on my way down stairs when I pulled up and told myself to smarten up. 
I was a member of the Sensuality Club and if I spoiled their pet slavegirl 
rotten, I'd be in dutch with the whole bunch. To keep Angelique's respect 
for me as a part owner of her person, I'd have to leave her in that cage for 
at least an hour or two. Of course, I could always whip her again. I was 
debating this possibility when the doorbell rang. 

If I'd needed a policeman I expect the uniformed male on my doorstep would 
have been all right. And the uniformed female beside him was pretty. But the 
last thing I needed was the police. I stood there stupidly and stared which 
they stared back in obvious suspicion. 

"Miss Nancy Turpin?" 

I said yes and this was where I lived. He then handed me a search warrant 
which said he could turn my home inside out if he wanted. They both walked 
in. 

The policeman told the policewoman to stay with me while he looked things 
over. I was so scared I was trembling. The policewoman was looking at me in 
a way that shouted criminal. I wanted to come up with some words to make 
contact with her and let her know I not a criminal, just a normal human 
being, but my mind shut down. One vivid picture stood before my mind, that 
of a tiny mesh cage in the basement with one naked and chained girl in it. 

 Chapter 6 Fetters in Fragments 

From the first moment I was locked in the little cage Nancy and I did 
everything wrong. Boy, did we ever! It didn't take me very long to get good 
and mad with that little prison in which I had to sit all hunched up and 
unable to stretch anything. By evening I would be a sad little slavegirl 
indeed. I was pretty sure Nancy hadn't the faintest idea how terrible these 
punishments can be. For her they were a fun thing and I was a pretty 
prisoner, or more likely a pet who had nothing to say about anything. 

I was feeling really sorry for myself by the time I heard the heavy 
footsteps and the policeman walked in. 

He stared at me in disbelief. I think I stared back, also in disbelief. It 
was a minute before either of us said a thing. 

My first reaction was relief. Here was the Law and freedom was ahead. But 
that feeling turned to horror when I realized I was naked in a cage before 
this male. Perhaps he thought I was crazy. But most of all I was thinking of 
Nancy and how the two of us could possibly wiggle out of this. 

"You are Miss Angelique Martin?" he finally found his voice. 

"Yes, I am. Would you please get me out of here?" 

"I am acting on a complaint made by a Miss Jennifer Seabright. She states 
you have been kidnapped?" 

He is staring at me in a fearful manner. He have to realize how queer this 
whole thing must look. I mumbled, "I suppose you could call it that. Would 
you mind getting me out of here?" 

I then experienced a miracle. He had a bunch of keys and I was soon standing 
up. For a girl used to being naked, I was generating a fine blush. He then 
turned his attention to the keys and unlocked the handcuffs I'd worn for 
more than a year. I didn't tell him that because I wasn't sure what was 
best. The uniform seemed doubtful. My policeman was reserving judgment. He 
also removed my leg irons. 

My spirits danced to a tune of "Free, free, free!" 

For brief moments I was happy as I stretched all of my limbs. Then his 
comment brought me back to earth. 

"You've been restrained a long time?" 

"Well, yes, quite a while." 

"Against your will?" 

"Well, in a way." 

"You are being evasive, Miss Martin." 

"I'm not accustomed to being naked with a policeman. Would you mind if I 
found some covering?" 

"There's a female officer upstairs, she will deal with you. Do you wish to 
sign a complaint against Miss Nancy Turpin?" 

"Good gosh, no! Why would I do that!" 

"She has been keeping you prisoner, isn't that reason enough?" 

I was mixed up and sure the poor guy had to think me nuts over the way I was 
using and stretching my legs and arms. But the way the cop was acting told 
me of dangerous ground either for Nancy or myself, or both of us. Stupidly, 
I told him, "Nancy is my friend and this isn't what you think is it. Thanks 
for getting me out of that cage, but if you'll now just run along ... ." 

He did not run along. He took my arm and led me upstairs. 

The first thing I saw upstairs was Nancy's anguished eyes. I realized the 
poor darling was seeing her future in the context of fifteen years behind 
bars. The policewoman all too obviously disapproved of both of us and barked 
at her sidekick, "Damn it, O'Brien, did you find her in bed?" 

"No, in a cage. Cuffed and leg-ironed." He turned to Nancy. "Are there any 
clothes around?" 

"She doesn't need any, she's not going out." Nancy wasn't thinking too 
quickly. 

"That's what you think. I'm arresting you on a charge of kidnapping and 
taking Miss Martin along to straighten out her story, it's full of holes." 

It was all unreal. I heard the girl reading out all that silly stuff about 
rights. Nancy kept trying to say something but the words wouldn't come out. 
But the worse thing was when Nancy was turned around she was handcuffed 
behind' her back, I could see she was scared out of her wits. And I wasn't 
feeling all that secure myself. 

"Nancy is my friend," I blurted out. "I won't sign a complaint." 

"In that case we'll take you along, too, as an accomplice." 

"You have no right to take me anywhere, I haven't done anything." 

They read me my rights and I knew the woman enjoyed every moment. In her 
eyes my being naked damned me utterly. The real heart-break was when they 
produced another pair of handcuffs and locked my wrists behind my back! I 
was so anguished I could cry. 

The policeman insisted that I should be clothed before being taken to the 
station house. When I admitted I didn't have any clothes to put on, my 
credibility sank even lower. They found a blanket they draped around my neck 
and marched to two of us to their car, leaving Nancy's home unoccupied 
worried them not at all. 

The station staff absorbed Nancy and she disappeared from my sight. A kidnap 
charge was nothing much but a naked girl was great news. I kept losing my 
blanket to the delight of my fans. We didn't lose our handcuffs until the 
desk sergeant was through with us. 

I made such a fuss about the way I was being treated that I was allowed to 
occupy the same cell as Nancy. Then they took us to make that one phone call 
that prisoners are allowed. I phoned Dorothy and when it came her turn, 
Nancy phoned Avis. 

Then we sat on the silly little cot inside the cell and went to pieces, 
clutching each other for security. It was a bad moment and I wouldn't want 
to live it over. 

Wealth is wonderful! It is doubly wonderful if it also carries a respected 
name. Dorothy and Avis, and in fact the whole Sensuality Club, descended 
upon that station in an avalanche of feminine fury. We were extracted from 
our cell: Once more I knew the very acme of happiness as forms were signed. 
Nancy was probably more relieved than I when we were escorted out in public 
by a huge crowd of friends. I was still clothed in a blanket but didn't 
mind. 

It was at this point I should have had more sense but I loved everyone and 
everything, and was so damned glad to be back among loving arms and hot lips 
that I wasn't thinking straight. I allowed myself to be ushered into one of 
the cars and shared an excitement at the prospect of a steak dinner the 
girls had arranged at Sardo's Restaurant. I couldn't feel more loved. With 
all this wonder I simply stopped thinking. 

The girls brought me clothes which I donned in the car. They also did their 
best with my hair. Hair is important to a girl. When we marched into Sardo's 
I was one of the bunch and happier than I had ever been. 

There were cocktails and I knew the pure glory of raising the glass to my 
lips with my own hands. Filled with love of life, I gulped whatever drinks 
were put before me without thinking. The food was wonderful, and I think my 
happiness must have been infectious for I was treated as royalty. 

I think I was more than a little drunk. 

I think I told them how I loved Jennifer. And Nancy Turpin. And Dorothy. And 
Avis. And ... and ... . 

I might have noticed shrewd glances between Sensuality Club members had I 
been more under control. There was wine with dinner. There were after dinner 
drinks. And then we were finished and I couldn't care less about anything. 

You know how it is when you've had one too many. The world doesn't quite 
right and you see life as fragmented scenes, like switching channels on a 
TV. The next thing I remember is a continuation of our party in the home of 
Isabel Travis. It all built up to a climax in which Avis held up a pair of 
handcuff of a beautiful gold color. 

"These are for you, Angelique darling, we want to show our appreciation for 
everything you've been to us. Come here and turn around." 

It was as if someone had poured cold water over me. I had been so happy but 
was now looking at a pair of metal cuffs that spelled imprisonment. I wanted 
no part of it and told them so in no uncertain way. "You know what you can 
do with those," I said. "I'm a free girl and I'm going to stay free." 

There was a shocked silence. I don't know why, what else could they expect. 
But I had to realize almost every girl in the place had owned me at one time 
or another and would forever see me in handcuffs and a pet for their 
pleasure. 

They stared at me. I stared at them. 

"But you're a slavegirl, darling, don't be difficult." It was Avis. 

"That's all behind me. You've got Connie and I'm sure you can get someone 
else. I've had enough." 

It was now Betty Harmon who held the golden handcuffs and mounted the little 
platform to hold them out invitingly. "Come, Angelique, darling, we want to 
make a little ceremony out of giving you these, you know, the return of the 
lost sheep to the fold, to the arms of those who love her very much." 

The love was there, true, I loved every one of them, even those who had been 
unkind to me with the whip. But freedom was a drug, a need I could not deny. 
The thought of returning to slavery was something I simply could not 
contemplate. I looked toward the door and could not fail to see the three 
girls standing firmly before it. Falling back upon basics, I said simply, "I 
won't do it. Let me go free." 

I don't know at just what moment I made my lunge towards the door. But it 
was too little, too late. Frantically I punched and clawed and kicked. 
Within a minute I was flat on my face with enough girls standing on my back 
to crush an elephant. Someone gathered up my arms and called for the 
handcuffs. Then there was clicks and I was a prisoner again. A slave. A 
slavegirl in the hands of twenty-six owners. When they got off me I lay upon 
the rug, sobbing my heart out. I knew my wrists were handcuffed behind my 
back forever. 

When I ceased to cry, I was escorted to the stage and turned around and 
around for everyone to witness the repossession of the slavegirl they 
adored. By that time I had ceased to care and all I wanted was to die. 

Regardless of my feelings, the club was determined to have its ritual 
occasion. One of them stood beside me to tell the audience that I would not 
suffer the normal punishment for attempted escape because I had been taken 
from Nancy by a policeman, and hadn't had much to say about any of it. 

While I stood there, disgusted with myself and the world, she hammered home 
the point that I had been a willing participant in the drawing in which my 
name had been picked to be a prisoner of the Sensuality Club for life. I had 
done this with my eyes open and with full knowledge of all entailed. 

I looked down at the membership without hope. 

Perhaps my new golden handcuffs were more pleasing to the eye but they felt 
the same as had the old pair I wore for a year. That pair was probably still 
at the police station. I didn't think anyone would walk in to claim them. 

I was bitter and sad and hopeless. But what could I do? This was the same as 
I had been in before my all too brief freedom. I knew I could do nothing. 

The ritual was only half complete. I looked at the lovely golden shackles in 
delight. I know that sounds silly but they were beautiful. I listened as we 
were all told how this gorgeous replacement for my lost leg irons had been 
created especially for a slavegirl they all loved. There were none of the 
adjustments needed, these bands were made for my ankles only and fit snugly. 
I thought that perhaps the span of links joining the golden bands was a 
little shorter than my original ones but dared not protest. They were truly 
beautiful and I was told that once locked on my ankles they could not be 
removed with a key but needed a slender piece of steel to insert in a tiny 
slit. The snap that closed each band around my ankle could be heard around 
the silent room. 

It was at that point Nancy Turpin chose to raise her hand to propose a 
motion, a motion to amend the rules to allow any mistress to removing the 
handcuffs from a slavegirl if it was necessary to have her hands before her 
for a certain punishment. The motion passed. 

I thought that was the end of it but one more announcement was to be made to 
the effect that the slavegirl known as Angelique was hereby removed from the 
cared of Miss Nancy Turpin and placed in the care of Miss Mary Lippman for 
an indefinite period pending the obtaining of a fresh girl to bring the 
Sensuality Club's inventory of slaves up to three. I heard this piece of 
news without interest, knowing their use of the word "obtaining" meant 
kidnapping. My main concern was with Mary Lippman and her presenting me as a 
gift to Tom Fredrick's, who would really and truly take me into freedom. 
With that fresh hope I clattered my steps back and forth across the stage. 
Everything was back to normal. 

"That new girl, Nancy Turpin, had the right idea. I'd thought of it long ago 
but never figured it would pass," Mary said as she stood back to view me 
with approval. "It's a lovely pose and you can stay that way all day, 
darling. I'm not going to be too mean but you do deserve something. I don't 
think you realize how lucky you are. We've let you off the main penalty for 
an escape attempt." 

I sniffed and wrinkled my nose at my new mistress before looking up at the 
golden handcuffs with my wrists inside tethered above my head from a chain 
from the ceiling. As usual there was nothing I could do about anything and I 
would spend this first day of a long imprisonment standing up. "I didn't try 
to escape," I retorted. "Everything just happened and I never did get free." 

"Yes you did, you were free all through dinner and then again at the party. 
We'll all been kind and then you go and do that dash for the door. It took 
six of us to hold you down." 

"It was only four, it wasn't six, and I've got as much right to freedom as 
anyone. Now I'm a prisoner all over again and it just isn't fair. Do you 
have to hoist my arms like this?" 

"Don't beef, it's a nice little punishment that won't do you a bit of harm. 
Tomorrow I'll give you something else. After that I may be nice. Maybe. I 
just love to hug and kiss and play with you but you don't deserve it so you 
can just stand like that and think about how lucky you are." 

"Lucky?" 

"Dear," she purred, "I should be whipping the hell out of you. And branding 
your skin, too!" 

I gulp and shut up. Mary leaves me alone. 

I'm always watching someone go and leave me in some sort of jackpot. It 
seems strange to be able to see the handcuffs that hold my wrists prisoner. 
I'm so used to having my hands behind my back. 

All I can think of is that I should have made my escape when I was allowed 
to walk out of the police station. Or in the restaurant. None of the girls 
had thought to handcuff me and I was totally free to fight or run. I suppose 
it shows how much of a hold the club has on me. How much affection flows 
back and forth. I guess I never made a break because I really loved all the 
girls and was feeling such gratitude for them rescuing them from jail. Being 
the prisoner of the club is one thing, but that horrible jail cell and the 
cold, impersonal way they handle you is another. 

Jennifer Seabright is the real heroine of the whole piece. And nobody even 
knows her except me. I wish she'd phoned those names I gave her instead of 
going to the police. Then my freedom might have lasted more than a few 
hours. I guess it was easier to phone the cops. If the policeman hadn't 
found me in that awful little cage, that might have helped, too. The poor 
guy looked so shocked to see me all curled up inside that wire mesh, far 
worse than if he simply found me walking around the house with Nancy and my 
arms behind my back. It's hard not to rehash the events over in my mind, but 
what's the use. I wish I could ask Mary about Tom Fredrick's. What I have to 
do now is wait for something that may never happen. In a way I'm back to 
square one. 

This punishment isn't so bad. But, of course, I'm not tired yet and I'm sure 
to get good and tired before Mary lets me loose. There's one thing about 
this new idea of unlocking my hands for punishment, it gives me a few 
moments of a sort of half freedom which, if I pluck up enough courage, I 
might use to get the best of whatever girl owns me at the time. I can't 
really see this happening because the punishment would be really bad. But 
it's an intriguing thought and this evening when Mary lowers my hands and 
changes my handcuffs from front to back there'll be another chance. Oh, 
shit! I'll never, never dare! 

I wonder if I'll ever get to say thank you to Jennifer Seabright. I may 
never see her again but she really did try to help and I have to be grateful 
for that even if it didn't work out. Poor Jennifer, I wonder how many whip 
marks she collected and if she's happy spending the money. 

It's noon before Mary comes by with a cup of coffee. I'm so tired standing 
with my arms up in the air, and so glad of her company I forget all the 
lovely sarcasms I've planned all morning. But my suggestion of a coffee 
break in which I get to use my hands for a few minutes is ignored. She lifts 
the cup to my lips and I drink which she says how nice it is to have me back 
in all my nakedness and she's wondering if she should whip me just a little 
or is my skin marked up enough already. I keep silent. I'm a slave. 

There's a wooden box in the bare room where Mary makes me stand. She sits 
down and chats about club affairs but it's hard for me to remember that I'm 
a member and would have a vote if I weren't always a prisoner. She goes on 
excitedly about having a third slavegirl along with Connie and me. Not that 
she needs another slavegirl but all the girls get a thrill out of snatching 
the chosen one from her life and into their possession. We debate as to 
whether this unique concept goes on anywhere else in the world. 

Standing like this is horrible when Mary leaves me alone. I can't ease any 
part of myself beyond standing first on one leg and then the other. I can 
take some of the weight with my hands on the chain but the handcuffs hurt 
and I have to cease. I just stand and stand and stand. If only I'd run away 
when I had the chance. 

Mary visits me more and more in the afternoon. I expect that's to check how 
I'm holding up under the strain. I know she wouldn't want me to lose 
consciousness and hang by my handcuffs. I repeat to myself regrets over not 
taking the chance and running when I had the chance. 

But then, if I failed, I'd get the letters "SC" branded into my skin! And 
that idea scares the hell out of me. 

I wished Mary loved me enough to let down my arms. She claimed openly that 
she and all the other girls loved me. But my arms remained over my head and 
I hurt. All I could do was try to look sad enough to touch her heart. But 
Mary had owned me before and knew my standard tricks. I was ignored except 
for one look that clearly said tricks like that would do me no good and 
might even get me additional punishment. 

I stood out my day until dinner but for the last hour of what I could only 
see as a punishment but Mary says is not bad enough to be a punishment. For 
a while she sat on the box and talked of many subject, not the least of was 
what she should do with me the following day. I was invited to offer ideas 
on suitable punishments, just as though we were talking about some third 
party. 

"I had doing the same old things over and over, you know. All I really want 
is a nice humiliating discomfort like you're suffering today. Is that too 
much to ask? Just a playful little game to keep you wishing you hadn't done 
what you did. See what I mean?" 

"How about just tying me in a cage so I could sit down. You could tie me 
tight so I'd be uncomfortable?" 

"And with clips on your nipples?" 

"I don't remember mentioning that." 

"Well, I suppose we could forego the clips. At least for all day. Perhaps 
now and then for ten or twenty minutes, just to give you a change of pace. 
But, goodness knows, you're experienced enough to take them all day. Come 
on, help me out." 

"How about the Chinese Water Torture?" 

"I know that one but it takes too long to become effective. What on earth 
made you think of that?' 

"I suppose it is because water doesn't leave marks. How about that one arm 
and one leg stand?" 

"That's too severe, darling, go easier on yourself. Good gosh, if I go on 
like this I'll be letting you spend the day in bed." 

"I think that would be nice if you were with me." 

"With you doing all the work?" 

"Sure, I'll do all the work. I know you think I've been a bad girl and 
deserve the frustration. I'll make you happy." 

"With the chain around your middle so you can't wander off while I'm 
asleep?" 

"I don't mind. Whatever you wish." 

"That reminds me, do you remember that guy I gave you to that other time, 
Tom Fredrick's?" 

"I remember all my punishments." 

"I wouldn't exactly call Tom Fredrick's a punishment. He's never a 
punishment with me and you look damned good and starry eyed after he left. 
If you ask me nicely perhaps I'll let him have you for two hours instead of 
one." 

"You mean he's coming again?" 

"I think he'll be here next week. I've a good mind to tell him to give you a 
really bad time. Would you like that?" 

"Yes!" 

I hoped the single word kept my secret. What Mary told me set my heart to 
thumbing and my hopes to soar. I hadn't achieved freedom at the party but 
perhaps fate was giving me another chance! Carelessly I said, "Please don't 
let him whip me. I only want to be whipped by girls, I hate getting myself 
marked up by a man." 

Before lowering my arms, Mary went behind me. I don't know where she got 
that whip from but suddenly my bottom blazed into flames and a startled gasp 
escaped from my mouth. It was only a single stroke but it hurt. She must 
have swung with all her strength. 

It was a silly game but at least we were loving each other. A single stroke, 
even a hard one, is tolerable. I did not protest. In fact, I thanked her as 
sincerely as I could. 

That's what it's like to be a slavegirl. 

"Feel better Angelique?" 

"Yes, Mary, thanks a lot. That bit of freedom got me spoiled and I'm glad 
it's you who is putting me back into my place. That really hurt." 

"I'm so glad, dear. Would you like another?" 

"Oh no, oh please no!" I wailed. Then I realized I was being teased. Looked 
up at the golden handcuffs that kept me standing where I was and wondered if 
Tom Fredrick's would free me from them. 

Mary seemed to have decided tomorrow. "You might have been a new experience 
for Nancy Turpin, darling," she said, "how was she as a mistress?" 

I had to think about that one but did the best I could. "It's like that old 
proverb about the month of March, she came in like a loin and went out like 
a lamb. Poor Nancy wanted very much to hurt me but felt guilty about it. She 
was like someone who constantly reaches out then pulls back. Putting me in 
that tiny cage was one of the worse things she did. But that policeman 
rescued me after I'd only been there an hour or so. I think she's one of 
those cases who needs to whip a girl half to death at the start and then 
they would be friends forever every afterwards. Does that make any sense?' 

"Anything that gets you good and properly whipped make good sense, darling. 
I'm not nearly as severe as I should be, darling, and all the other girls 
would be disappointed with me if they knew how kind I was with you. Suppose 
I stop pussy-footing and really give you a good thrashing tomorrow? That's a 
good idea." 

It's an idea I want her to forget so I quickly offer the first thing that 
comes into mind, "Wouldn't you sooner tie me tight into a kitchen chair and 
put the clips on my nipples? I'd look ever so pretty but I wouldn't enjoy it 
the least. I hate my nipples being hurt." 

Mary let the subject drop to return to Nancy Turpin. "I never really felt 
sure about Nancy," she confessed slowly. 'To begin with, she really doesn't 
have all that much money. I think money is important when it comes to owning 
a girl. What I mean is that, if you've never had much money, you feel sorry 
for the poor creature. Because we took you away from her, we're presenting 
her with young Connie for a week, and I'm wondering if she'll kill the poor 
girl or spend the entire week with her in bed. What do you think?" 

"Somewhere between the two, Nancy is a compromiser." 

Our conversations drifted on to other subjects. I constantly looked up in 
longing at the hands chained up above my head. But my mistress refused to 
bit. In fact, she told me at one point to stop it or she would get the cane. 
She expressed the idea that I needed a good caning just on general 
principles. "How does it feel when you sit down, darling?" 

"Just normal, I don't feel anything." 

"In that case you need the cane. I should always keep you tender where you 
sit, you need it." 

I didn't argue, I was getting terribly tired and knew if Mary caned me one 
more time I'd be in tears. Finally she announced it was five o'clock and let 
down my arms to allow me to slump to the floor. It was gorgeous to let the 
arms down. I thanked her. 

I was handcuffed in front and Mary said I could stay that way through dinner 
so I wouldn't have to be fed. It was wonderful. Once more my gratitude was 
sincere. It was one of the nicest dinners I have ever had, and the girl who 
owned me and I laughed every time I clinked the golden handcuffs as I plied 
a knife and fork or raised a glass. 

But I pressed my luck. "Wouldn't it be nice," I suggested, "if my hands were 
always in front? Then I could do much more. I mean, it saves you so much 
trouble." 

"That questions," she replied sweetly, "evokes visions of an Angelique being 
punished." 

"Well, I was just trying to be helpful." I felt my skin crawling in 
slavegirl fear. "I'm sorry if I offended, I didn't mean to." 

"All right, all right! Tell me where your hands do belong." 

I know Mary is too lazy to punish me this time. Obediently I respond, "My 
hands belong behind my back, Mary." 

That was that. After coffee my hands were changed to behind me, and I was 
once more at square one. I wished the lovely chains on my ankles were not so 
beautiful so I could hate them but they were very beautiful indeed. Damn it! 
I couldn't hate anything! 

That night Mary was extra special nice to me in bed. 

As is common with mistresses, Mary ignored my suggestions of punishments for 
the next and chose one of her own for me to put up with. It was that deal 
where a girl stands on a box with her back against a low partition of 
plywood and gets her hands and arms thrust over the top and tied down tight 
so the edge of the thick plywood sticks into her armpits. When the box is 
removed the girl's weight is almost totally on her armpits. Except whatever 
she might find if her toes can reach the floor. It was much worse than 
yesterday. When she yanked the box from under me I know I was in for a bad, 
bad day. 

"You look too beautiful for words, standing there like that, darling," she 
sighed. 

"I'm not really standing, I'm hung up here and it hurts." 

"Don't be picky, Angelique. Your armpits are being hurt today because it's a 
part of you that usually gets away scot free. Be thankful it's not your 
pussy on that wooden edge. Would you rather that?" I am not thankful for 
anything but do not say so. I can't move at all except to kick chained feet 
and that hurts. I hope I look as nice as Mary says but I doubt it 

Mary's fingers tease my nipples as she explains, "I absolutely have to do 
something to you, Angelique, my pet. I don't think you've been decently 
punished for a long time and I'm concerned with that attempted escape of 
yours. Have a nice day." 

The last thing I want is to see Mary go. I want to explain how. terrible 
this is and that I can't possibly bear it, but my words die in my throat as 
she disappears. I think this is a punishment a girl would have to experience 
to judge it's awfulness as my armpits settle onto the edge. My shoulders are 
quickly aching and I know it will grow only worse. I try not to move, it 
hurts too much. 

My pussy gets in on the act. Damn thing warms up and send tingles into my 
body. I don't know why that is when the rest of me is aching, but there it 
is. Maybe it's because I haven't have this punishment before and my sex 
considers me attractive female as I hung plastered to the board over which 
my arms are drawn. My wrists are still handcuffed and make their own 
complaint. I feel sure it will be an interesting day. 

This punishment causes my breasts to stick out. Looking down at them, I am 
stricken by a terrible fear that Mary will succumb to the obvious and put 
clips on the nipples. That's the trouble with being a slavegirl, you see 
everything that's negative and likely to hurt. Mary is a sweetheart and I 
excuse her giving me this agony because she probably doesn't know just how 
bad it is. When she comes back, if she ever does, I'll tell her for sure. 

A punished slavegirl has so much time to think she tends to envision horrors 
that never will really come to pass. But the horrors are really possible and 
she hopes her mistress won't think of them and make them real. The clips 
upon my nipples, for example, When Mary returns I try to tell her 
graphically how awful this position is, but I can tell she doesn't agree and 
finds me inviting without my arms being usable or even in sight. Instead of 
putting the clips on my nipples she kisses them both and goes away to leave 
me still hanging against the plank. This is the worst possible torture she 
could impose. I wonder if she know! 

I don't get the clips, I don't get anything except occasional visits from 
Mary who thinks I am putting on a show of pretend agony for her benefit. She 
finds me a beautiful creation as I hang against that board with my toes 
reaching for the floor. I can't really blame Mary but it is not one of my 
better days. When she frees me in late afternoon, I slump helplessly to the 
floor and shed enough tears to float a battleship. 

The next day I revert to being only a companion to a rich and pampered young 
woman who keeps my arms handcuffed behind my back. All is as it should be 
and I'm sure the Sensuality Club would bestow their seal of approval on a 
punished slave and her benevolent mistress. 

As yet Mary has not whipped me. The days slip by and I am as happy as a 
handcuffed girl can be. Mary forgets punishment and I carefully avoid them 
by being as good a slavegirl as I can be. I am aware that somewhere forces 
are at work to affect my future. But for now I can only cherish them and 
hope. Tom Fredrick's is out there somewhere. And Jennifer is there, too. I 
have to wonder if perhaps she might try against to free me. Ah, the 
fantasies by which slavegirls pass the time. 

Finally there comes the day when Mary tells me that tomorrow Tom Fredrick's 
will visit and that she will present me to him. She thinks it is a 
punishment but I know better! 

When events are favorable they move swiftly. When agony is in the cards they 
move slowly. It is as though for a gala event that Mary takes me to the 
chosen room with its waiting bed and chains my middle with an impressive 
padlock. 

"Just so he can't steal you away, darling. Never trust a man." 

I stand there, trembling, fearfully secured. This is the moment I have 
cherished for a long, long time. 

The moments lengthen and I stand there trembling, the chain padlocked around 
my waist, to await The Male. I wonder what Tom Fredrick's will do to me in 
those thirty days which are his reward for my freedom. I finger the chain 
and padlock doubtfully, they are heavy and very strong. Will the tools he 
brings be enough? Poor, darling Mary, she will be devastated when he carries 
me downstairs. 

Enough time passed that I have to wonder. It is not long before Mary bursts 
in to bring me up to date. 

"Something's gone wrong, Angelique, darling. I don't know what it is. I've 
had to cancel Tom Fredrick's because the Sensuality Club wants me to deliver 
you right now to Dorothy's place." She looks at me with anguished eyes. 
"Don't ask me what's happened, darling, because I simply don't know. But I 
feel it's bad. They picked Dorothy's place because she's got that room with 
the little stage. Come along, I'm curious." 

My chain and padlock are swiftly dealt with. I do not ask about Tom 
Fredrick's because it is possible Mary already knows, and this is the cause 
of the flap. Even as I sit beside Mary on the car ride, my ankles tied tight 
enough to hurt, we can only debate possibilities, we do not know. I wish I 
could stop trembling. 

Dorothy's place evokes a lot of tender memories. But the Sensuality Club's 
pretty well taken it over and the place seems filled with excited girls who 
look at me in a way I can't read. They are warm in their greetings to Mary. 
I am swiftly put up on the little stage and told to stand her, facing the 
audience. Dorothy is nowhere to be seen. 

My ankles were untied so I am able to shuffle my feet as I stand there 
awkwardly. I do not try to talk to anyone. I feel very naked. I get a bad, 
bad feeling about this. 

It is not long before the little theater fills. The membership is all there 
and I see familiar faces, none of which smile back. It soon turned out that 
a couple of the huskier girls have been appointed as guards and they come up 
on the platform with a gag, the sort of gag I detest. When it is firmly 
strapped in my mouth I won't be making any speeches so I wonder why I'm on 
the platform. They leave me alone up there. 

With a shock to stop my heart, I see a naked girl coming towards the 
platform. This is Dorothy's house but here is Dorothy herself, stark naked 
between two large girls, with her wrists handcuffed behind her back. She is 
also gagged the way I'm gagged so when they march her up the stairs and 
stand her by my side we can't communicate. We only exchange looks of agony 
with our eyes. 

I am eaten with curiosity and Dorothy obviously wants to tell me something. 
But the tight straps in our mouths keep us silent. I am not kept in doubt 
for long-it is now a courtroom with one of the club's favorite members 
standing trial. And their favorite slavegirl! Each of us is represented by 
one of the members who carries up a chair to stand behind while she espouses 
our cause. These two actually have notes they refer to while the atmosphere 
becomes tenser. It is a gala day for the Sensuality Club! The crime is 
treason and even though we seem to be already convicted our console will 
pled our case while we stand mute. If is all very official and I'm sure they 
are loving every minute of it. 

Dorothy and I keep looking at each other in bleak distress and I have to 
wonder at her sensations at standing naked before an audience. For all I 
know this could be the first time she's ever been handcuffed. Poor darling, 
the girls are being mean. 

Everything well planned, disaster moves swiftly. One of the girls adjusts a 
little table on the platform and places thereon a small tape recorder. The 
tape plays. In the hushed stillness I hear my voice. 

It is the tape that son of a bitch made the time he had me in that little 
cage with Jennifer. It comes through beautifully and the Sensuality Club 
gives every word their undivided attention. I want to die. I dare not look 
at Dorothy. I am positive she did not give the girls the tape. But how they 
got it does not matter, they have it now and it condemns me for sure and 
shows Dorothy as aiding and abetting my escape from punishment. Oh, shit! 

When the tape is over our consoles take up the battle. It was a good defense 
but woefully inadequate when placed against the evidence. There was never a 
chance. 

Dorothy is sentenced to one year imprisonment to serve as a slavegirl for 
the club, while I am to bear the letters "S" and "C" upon my skin forever. 

They have forgotten Dorothy's feet and she uses them to leap into the wings 
and head for an exit. I don't know what the poor girl planned to do in the 
street, naked, handcuffed and gagged, but it doesn't matter. She was almost 
brought to the floor by two large girls who must have been expecting just 
such an action. Quickly she is standing beside me again. 

From somewhere the product leg irons and clamp her ankles so she will not be 
running for a long, long time. She tugs at her wrists and ankles as if not 
believing that they are ironed. Both of us have had the course. 

The club is compassionate. They will administer Dorothy's estate while she 
serves her time in slavery. They have also taken over house and 
demonstration good will by taking Dorothy downstairs and locking us as we 
are in the cell Dorothy had intended for slavegirls only. But she is now a 
slave and it is only fitting she gaze through iron bars from within. Their 
sympathy for a fallen angel runs far enough to unbuckling our gags. 

We made an instinctive motion to clasp each other but we have no arms. For 
Dorothy this is something new and she fights savagely at the restraints. 

"Oh, Angelique, I am so terribly sorry! It's all my fault, I should have 
burned that terrible tape." 

I silence her with my lips. Two naked girls can easily find comfort in each 
other's naked bodies and that we do. Our passions are intense and we find 
our hands being behind our backs little determent to lovemaking. 

Later, we lay on hard benches and talk. 

"They can really do what they say," says Dorothy. "They can easily handle my 
affairs and take over this house. Darling, is it very bad?" 

I gently explain the worst of it is the handcuffed wrists and shackled feet. 
It is easy to remind the shackled girl of how she treated me and that is the 
worst of it. I do not speak of the two girls who are really mean. Nor do I 
remind her that a year will soon pass. Compared to a lifetime. 

"I'm going to feel so silly about kneeling down and being humble. I mean, 
I've know these girls so well and so long. Now I'm their prisoner and 
they'll whip me. They'll probably be a lot harder on me than they've been on 
you. Oh, darling, I'm scared!" 

That makes two of us. I try not to think of it but my quivering flesh feels 
the glowing iron. 

Dorothy suddenly remembers. "I'm being a selfish beasts, just thinking about 
myself," she moans. "I've only got a year's imprisonment but you'll be 
marked for life. Darling, if they give me half the chance I'll try and talk 
them out of branding you. Damn it, you don't deserve to be branded, you're 
too sweet and lovable. Damn it!" 

We are terrible grateful for each other. I wouldn't have wanted to be locked 
in here alone to await the red hot iron. 

Dorothy tells me that I'll be Mary Lippman's prisoner for the next two weeks 
while she is going to belong to Avis for the same time. It seems my branding 
is to be turned into a ritual for another occasion as if the girls are 
little children, keeping the real goodies to last. 

We get a sad little laugh or two over Dorothy leaning to walk. The poor dear 
cautiously explores the tiny steps allowed her and snubs her ankles 
constantly. I cannot ease her falls. 

We face each other on the hard bench and talk. As ask if the club will 
bother to kidnap another girl now that they have her. How many slaves do 
they need? Dorothy tells me this is something she does not know. But owning 
a slavegirl is like a drug, the more you get of it, the more you want it. 
And even with three slavegirls, there is still twenty-five club members. 
While we talk there hovers in the back of my mind the awareness of Tom 
Fredrick's still being in my future. If Mary is to own me for the next two 
weeks, I have to suppose he may visit yet and steal me away from slavery. I 
would like to confide in Dorothy but I'm afraid the cell maybe bugged and 
hold my tongue. It's best she does not know and thus cannot tell my secret 
beneath the whip. 

Dorothy tells me that business of Mary and me being hauled off to jail made 
a deep impression of the Sensuality Club. From on they will make very sure 
we have no chance of escape. I hug my secret and resolve that should I soon 
find freedom I will somehow rescue Dorothy from slavery. I'm not sure about 
Connie, I think she probably enjoy the luxury and accepts her whip marks as 
just one of those things. 

Poor Dorothy, she will find out so many new things. Just imagine being 
whipped by one of your best friends. When that happened to me I felt as if 
the world had ended. Slavery is not the least bit easy. 

I have to smile at the way Dorothy fights her handcuffs. She doesn't know 
she's doing it but never stops. When she sees me watching her, she says, 
"Well I can't just do nothing, can I? There's always the chance that 
something isn't quite right or something will break." She gives me a faint 
smile. "So, okay, I'm being silly, handcuffs never break, handcuffs never 
come loose. I'll try and remember." 

It gives my poor, sad companion amusement to tell me the cost of the lovely 
collar and belt, and my golden shackles. The amount is staggering and for 
several moments I feel gratitude and pride. Ruefully she explains that not 
only was the craftsmanship costly, but since they were made to fit me alone, 
they are a one of a kind deal. She tells me frankly I'm never likely to get 
them off. She laughs bitterly when I suggest the girls may love her enough 
to do the same for her. 

Woefully, we realize that with me going to Mary and she to Avis we will not 
see each other again until after Dorothy has served her sentence. Since that 
first time I have not seen Connie and have only heard about her. Dorothy 
vows that she will demand my services upon release. But the club does not 
have to grant her wish and we can only hope. When night falls we do on that 
hard bench all we have ever done before. Since both of us are helpless we 
could have done it better but the end result is marvelous and we assure each 
other that after Dorothy's year has passed we will simulate our mutual 
helplessness and do it again. I mentally compute my age, I will be 
twenty-nine. 

Mary Lippman is grateful to get me back. Because of the clubs new concern 
with security she has to transport me from Dorothy's place in the trunk with 
both my ankles and elbows tightly bound, and joined in a hogtie to assure I 
make no disturbance. I'm also gagged. I hate the whole damned thing. 

Mary is a sweetheart, as soon as she dares she frees me from the biting 
cords and gag. It is like old times when she takes me to the kitchen and 
makes coffee. She is bursting to talk but she is Mary Lippman and her talk 
is sometimes quaint. 

"Would you like me to whip you just a little, darling?" she inquires 
anxiously. "I mean, sort of counter-irritant to get the bad taste out of 
your mouth over everything that's happened. I'd love to whip you." 

I ask to be excused and the request is granted. I'm sure that Mary will whip 
me pretty soon but if I can delay it, I will. We both talk about poor, 
darling Dorothy. And then about my brand. It appears I am to be branded at 
the end of Mary's ownership when I am passed on. It is to be a gala event 
and take place on the stage. Mary explains that so large a room will absorb 
my screams. She adds that she, too, will try and talk the girls out of this 
awful punishment but doesn't hold much hope. They are all getting damndest 
erotic charge out of the thought of my flesh branded with "Sensuality Club". 

Naturally I do not mention my hope that Tom Fredrick's will extract me 
first. I long to know his arrival but dare not ask. Never in my whole life 
has so much hung in the balance so simple as a man visiting a girl. Without 
thinking what I say, I agree with Mary that it would be nice for me to 
finish out my time in her tiny cage. 

We sip our coffee and Mary admits she is longing to possess Dorothy, not 
with any special intent but simply to experience to the thrill of having a 
onetime equal on her knees, fearful of being whipped. I point out that she 
now has me and that is really my circumstance. I was once a member and still 
am. She says this is not the same thing at all because Dorothy was one of 
the founding members and the very last girl any of them expected to have a 
chance to whip or put behind bars. She says that even thinking about it 
makes her horny as hell. It is a time of laughter and Mary is good for me, 
so long as I do not think of her beastly little cage. The night in bed with 
her is wonderful. 

In the morning Mary decides I should have my hands in front instead of 
behind my back. This will make it easier to put me in the cage and make my 
time in there a little less weary. The cage is a soundly constructed little 
prison. The wire mesh is solid and the corners made from steel, and the lock 
a solid padlock. I hate the whole idea now and wished I hadn't been so 
agreeable yesterday. Slavegirls should never say yes to anything. 

Entrance to the cage is by a door at one end which opens up and over to 
admit me. I crawl inside and arrange my chained nakedness as best I can. It 
takes a lot of compression, even the crinkling of toes, to make it possible 
for the door to close. Mary almost has to push the door to get it to close. 
And the snap of the padlock is an evil sound. I can move my hands a little 
and turn my head from side to side but can't move, my legs or body. Mary 
loves the thing; I do not. 

I have to admit it is a lot easier to crawl inside than last time. Having my 
hands in front is wonderful and I wonder if I can talk Mary into letting me 
leave them there after my time is up. Anyway, I can now do a decent crawl 
into the cage. I grin back at Mary and accept her assurance that she won't 
leave me a compact bundle of female all night. Slavegirls must be ready to 
accept whatever their mistresses think is good for them. 

After about an hour Mary visits to make sure I'm all right. I consider 
asking her to let me out but know within that it has been far too short a 
period to ask for such a boon. I would probably earn a few strokes of the 
cane. In spite of cramps and hating the whole thing I say everything is okay 
and I'm not dying. She blows me a kiss and there isn't room for me to return 
it. She leaves me to wonder when she will come again. 

When she returns after only thirty minutes, my world is changed. 

Tom Fredrick's has phoned to say he will be there right away. I am in the 
damndest dither as the cage door is unlocked and I edge my way to freedom 
with no more than a few nicks and chafings on my skin. I am trembling in 
excitement but Mary will attribute this to the knowledge that I will soon be 
the hapless victim of a male rape. For one hour I am to be given to Tom 
Fredrick's for his sole delight. And whatever punishments he may chose to 
inflict should he so desire. I am so thankful I want to sing but dare and 
try to mold my features to those of a maiden about to be sacrificed to male 
lust. 

I love Mary very much and wished I did not have to deceive her I love her 
more when she forgets to padlock the chain around my tummy as she hurried to 
greet the visitor. I stand there with my hands in front instead of behind my 
back. Boy, how lucky can I get! 

The wait is long but the action, when it comes, is swift. Tom has his bag of 
tools which may or may not have dealt with the chain had it been locked 
around my middle. After picking me up an kissing me most ardently, Tom 
Fredrick's grunts, "Didn't bother to chain you, eh? Mary's a real honey of a 
girl and I hate to steal her property but here we go." 

He picked up his bag in one hand and me in the other as if I weighed 
nothing. I will be forever grateful to the kindness of Fate that between the 
bedroom and Tom's car we did not find Mary or anyone else. My mistress was 
somewhere behind a closed door and considered me safely prisoner. Tom was 
taking no chances, he dumped me in the trunk and slammed the lid. I lay 
there in the dark and was overflowing with happiness. 

Every girl thinks about the bridal night and a confrontation from which she 
cannot escape. I know most couples have done it before but in those cases 
where they've held off until the vows have been spoken, it must be an ordeal 
to tax endurance. That's the way it was with me and Tom. We simply stood and 
stared until he said roughly, "The hell with this," and laid me on the floor 
and fucked me until I was I crazy with lust. His thrusts were hard and had 
no end. But after he was finished inside me, he sat me on a couch and gave 
me the biggest sniffer of brandy I had ever had. I was still panting and 
sweating but it was wonderful to hold that sniffer in my hands. 

Tom was accustomed to girl, he was not afraid of us. From the first I was 
aware of him as the Master. He accepted a girl as a creature who's function 
was to serve her male. He noted my golden chains and informed that he was 
inclined to leave them on me. "They won't stop me from doing most things and 
they're damned becoming. But I have to wonder if I can get them off if I 
have to." 

He rummaged in a draw while I sat, demure and worshipful, and sipping the 
brandy which was getting me back to normal. After all, I had just been 
stolen from one owner and introduced to another with a violent, hard and 
wonderful screwing. What I mean was Tom Fredrick's had a male weapon out of 
this world! 

He turned with a couple of key rings and an assortment of bits of metal 
which he used to probe at my ankle bands. He actually found one that slid 
home and turned the lock. The anklet fell away. For a few seconds we stared 
at the bare ankles. Then he put the band back on. It was the same with the 
handcuffs. 

But this time the handcuffs went on behind my back. When I pouted he laughed 
and explained that he completely approved of the club's concept of the 
handcuffed maiden who had lost her hands for life. It intrigued, there was a 
thrill in it. He was positive the attitude of the girl had to be affected by 
the knowledge that everything she had in front was open and available, she 
could deny no use of her body. 

Tom Fredrick's found a vast amusement in what he called the antics of the 
SC. He had been intimate enough with Mary to learn the whole story which he 
found endlessly intriguing. He had experimented with slavegirls of his own 
but had always been too busy to get the proper girl or give her enough 
attention after he had her a prisoner. He's given girl after girl money and 
sent her on her way with an apology for his lack of interest. He frankly 
admitted with me it would be different because I was a trained slave, well 
seasoned and experienced. He went on to say, without apology, that he would 
leave me alone most of every day, and would keep me securely enough chained 
so I could forget escape. Until my thirty days were up, that is. Had Tom 
Fredrick's been other than he was, or my new servitude indefinite, I might 
have been less happy than I was. 

I resolved to find out why he had never married. I was also curious about 
his addiction to the whip. I would be a lucky girl indeed if he had no 
interest in marking up my skin. If what he did to me last night was 
repeated, it might well be enough to keep him happy. I hated to admit that 
it would keep me happy, too. 

Tom Fredrick's was positively enthralled by the story of Dorothy and of me 
begin sentenced to the hot iron. He had me relate Dorothy's story over and 
over, and admitted it was a real erector in its implications of pride 
brought low and of a beauty who had possessed a slave now forced to serve a 
sentence as one. Being a man, he found the thought of all that girl flesh 
being passed around as something much to his liking. It was the reason he 
had taken the trouble to possess me. 

The story of Connie held less appeal. He had found younger girls a bore, and 
kidnapping as a prelude to enslavement unlikely to provide the same 
stimulation as my enslavement by lottery. Casually he brought out 
conversation to a close by saying, "It's time I whipped you, Angelique." 

I felt no shock, only disappoint. But I'd been whipped all over the place by 
so many that I mustn't take this too seriously. But I shouldn't take it 
lightly, either. I asked, "Even if I haven't done anything?" 

"That's right, it's for my own pleasure. You're not too badly marked right 
now." 

"You're right, but I'd sort of hoped ... ." I shrugged. "You can't blame me 
for hoping you might be someone who would enjoy my body for the pleasure it 
can give, not for the pain you can cause it." 

"Your pain gives me pleasure," he said simply and that was that. 

I'd been taught not to complain. All I said was, "Please don't whip me every 
day." 

Tom Fredrick's laughed at my doleful face and pathetic voice. He picked me 
up and kissed away my gloom. "Forget the blues, honey, I've said I'll whip 
you so I will. I refuse to be influenced by what you say or the way you 
look. But you've had more whippings than one. Come on, smile." 

There was something about Tom that made smiling easy. With his hand on my 
bare arm, I was led to where I would be shown pain. 

"What part of me gets whipped," I asked, trying to sound casual. 

He evidently found that amusing, once more there was the fine masculine 
laugh. "Just your pretty little ass this time, sweetheart." 

I was surprised when he unlocked my handcuffs. I had supposed he would 
simply raise them up behind so I would have to bend over. But while he was 
unlocking them I realized the unbroken tradition no longer applied, the club 
no longer owned me, I belonged to Tom. He slipped my golden cuffs into his 
pocket, along with the key. He looked down at my feet. "I'll leave them as 
they are right now. They allow you just enough room to kick, and I do like a 
girl to kick. See those parallel bars? Stand here and stick your wrists up 
on that one about two feet apart. I'm using a couple of pieces of nice, thin 
rope that should be a change for you. Rope is beautiful and I love to see a 
girl wearing ropes tightly pressing into their skin." 

He was right about the rope sinking into my skin, he wrapped it tightly 
around my wrists and the bar. I found myself breathless as I watched the 
cords possess my wrists, I felt pretty sure Tom had tied one or more girls 
before in just this way. My heart was beating away like a bass drum as I 
watched. Tom was tying tight enough to hurt. 

"If you're going to tie a girl at all, you'd best tie her tight," he 
informed. He cinched savagely. "That hurt?" 

"Yes." 

"Good. Now we'll do the other." 

"I'm not accustomed to being whipped by a man." 

"You were in a rut, sweetheart. Thirty days with me will do you a world of 
good." 

I didn't believe a word. Thirty days with Tom was going to hurt. But he was 
a nice man, and boy could he screw a girl! I was finding the most 
extraordinary fascination in looking at my bound wrists held on the bar. I 
felt very bare and helpless. 

There was more to come. It was a bench Tom thrust below the bars and against 
my pubic curls to compel me to back away until I was bending over with my 
arms rigidly out thrust. My master next walked around to feel with a hand up 
my thighs. He cupped my puss and used that to raise my hips and pull the 
bench back. When he released me, my belly was on the bench and my bottom 
nicely curved. The bench now hurt because my chained feet were lifted from 
the floor. I felt certain I looked ridiculous but perhaps that was what Tom 
wanted. 

His "How's that grab you, honey?" told me I was in the hands of a Master. 

"It's horrible. And it makes me look horrible. I wish you'd forget it. 
Please, Tom, don't whip me in this horrid position." 

"You don't like it!" He contrived to sound hurt. "It's got your pretty ass 
positioned just right." 

"I don't care! Look, Tom, if you'll take me off this damned bench and take 
it away so I can stand, I promise I'll stick my bottom out every bit as 
good. Or as bad?" 

"Yeah, I bet. You'd handle the first one or two okay but then try to hide 
your bottom." 

"I wouldn't! Oh, Tom, really I wouldn't! I'd stick it out there for you 
every time." I was hating that damned bench more and more. "Don't forget 
I've been whipped an awful lot and I really do have some control. I won't 
like it but I'll do it." 

That gained my master's attention. He walked around me a couple of time. 
"Okay, Angelique. You asked for it. I'll take away the bench. But if you 
don't deliver, I'll make you a very sorry girl." 

"I'll deliver." Getting rid of that bench and being allowed to stand, even 
with tied hands, felt almost as good as if I'd had the whipping and done 
with it. All I had to do now was pretend it wouldn't hurt any more if I 
stuck it out than if I tried to hide my bottom. To demonstrate good faith I 
bend as best I could, depressed my waist, straightened my knees, and stuck 
out my behind. Tom's tribute didn't help much. 

"Angelique, you're really beautiful! You really think you can stick it out 
that way for every stroke of the whip?" 

"I'll give it my best try, I really will." 

His words suddenly registered. "What do you mean, the whip? I thought you 
were going to cane me? You'll cut my bottom to pieces with a whip. A girl's 
bottom always gets caned or cropped." 

"Not this time! There's a swing and a sound to the whip I enjoy. Don't 
worry, I'm not going to cut up your hips. Hold still." 

That has to be the most awful moment. But I had learned the trick of putting 
myself in neutral until my skin got the impact of whatever instrument was 
being used to give me pain. I did that now but it was only a couple of 
seconds until the thong kissed my tender flesh. I let out one of those awful 
sound I'm always ashamed of and tried to jump away. Of course, my hands were 
held rigid and I could not escape. It was not easy to force my sore bottom 
to stick out for stroke number two. My mind kept telling me that none of the 
girls hit this hard or painful. Why did I ever let a man whip me? 

"Bravo!" I knew his tribute was sincere but it didn't stop my hurt. "See how 
you make out with this one." 

I didn't do so good. The pain was bloody awful. My knees grew week and I 
jerked like a puppet on a string. 

"Want me to gag you, Angelique? I'm not too keep on screams." 

"Thanks, but I'll try to keep them down. Please don't hit me so hard." 

"Hard? I'm going easy on you." 

The next one was the same. Hard and painful. My inflamed flesh registered an 
explosion of pain. I was learning what it was like to be owned by a master. 

I knew that after each stroke I was becoming less brave, that my knees bend 
and I was wiggling ass around. But at the same time I was more ardently 
anxious to prove I could really deliver myself to his whip without 
complaint. I felt certain Tom Fredrick's would show little sympathy to a 
loser. I pulled by back down to thrust my bottom far out. After the sixth 
stroke, which isn't that many, Tom told me I could stand up. 

Standing straight had ever felt so good! 

He brought his face near mine. I smiled back, probably faintly, and spread 
my fingers to demonstrate how tightly I was tied. Below my bottom blazed. 

"I've decided not to give you more than ten, sweetheart," he said. "Feel 
better?" 

I didn't dare say how much better I felt. The four strokes I had to endure 
would be bad but I was resolved to pay my dues. "Thank you, Tom, Master. 
I'll try to be a good slavegirl." 

I was sincere but didn't know why I talked like that. He was my owner for 
only thirty days, not life. 

We stared at each other. He smiled. I smiled, too. Strangely we both broke 
into laughter. 

"The final four are going to be bad but see what you can do with them," I 
was told. 

They were bad. The sort of pain that curls your stomach into knots. I 
clenched my teeth against the screams he did not want and pulled uselessly 
against my wrists. When it was over I made no demure when he clasp my 
nakedness from behind, frictioned his rod against my flaming seat and cupped 
my breasts into male hands. 

"You're all right, Angelique. You're good. You and I are going places. Let's 
go get ourselves a drink. 

The impossible was made possible by the untying of my wrists. Of course the 
bands of gold were replaced but they were in front and not behind my back. I 
was grateful for this just as I was thankful for the ten strokes. I had, 
after all, expected twenty of more. 

I had been whipped by my new master but Tom was not yet through with my 
tender flesh. Disposing ourselves on the couch for the drinks, he placed 
thereon a circular board with a surface of the roughest looking sandpaper 
I've ever seen. Then, as if proud of what he had done, "There you are 
sweetheart, it on it." 

There are worse things than sitting on sandpaper. But with my bottom whipped 
the way it was, I'm not sure what they are. I obeyed my master's command 
carefully and wishing he hadn't thought of this. When I had settled my full 
weight, I couldn't hold back a gasp and looked up into his eyes with a plea 
in mine. 

"Oh, Tom, this is going to be horrible." 

"Discipline, my pet. Think of it as building character. Brandy okay?" 

I was being beautifully managed and controlled. Just when I was thinking 
that at least I had my hands in front of me, Tom casually unlocked one cuff 
and refixed my hands behind me. 

"This is one thing I have to admire about that SC. Their concept of keeping 
your hands behind your back is quite something." 

"But how can I drink?" I exclaimed unhappily. "You seem to forget that when 
you put my hands behind my back I'm helpless." 

"That's the way you should be, darling. I want you helpless and that's the 
way it is going to be. I'll lift your glass. Was ever a maiden more richly 
blessed?" 

"You seem to forget I'm sitting on sandpaper and I'm not enjoying it one 
bit." 

"We mustn't quibble, darling, life's full of minor tribulations. Be thankful 
you bottom was properly tenderize. I trust it chaffs?" 

"It's worse than that. It's like sitting on a hot stove." 

"Excellent. That tells me where you're coming from. Just a minute and I'll 
be back with the drinks." 

While he was gone I wondered what he would do if I got up and sat somewhere 
else. Probably ten more strokes. That would be just too much. If Tom 
Fredrick's wanted to sandpaper my bottom I would just have to put up with 
it. 

One thing about Tom, he was generous with the drinks, I eyed the sniffer of 
brandy and drank deep before it was taken from my lips. 

The fiery drink helped. 

I wanted to protest the sandpaper as it seemed to grow worse. When I could 
no longer hold it in, I blurted out, "Oh, please, Master, this hurts so!" 

Tom surprised me by picking me up with strong hands. He sat me to one side 
and pushed the board away. "There, sweetheart, that better?" 

"I can tell you how much better it was if I had my hands. But, anyway, Tom, 
thanks a million. Thank you." 

"Don't mention it. My mercy has a selfish motive-I wish to talk." 

I wondered if he always tenderized a girl's bottom before starting a 
conversation. 

"I've got you for thirty days, Angelique. What will you do then?" 

"Pick up my life where I left it." 

"Think you can do that, sweetheart?" Tom's voice was serious. 

"I don't see why not. I'm not dependent on a job, I've got an income." I 
chuckled at the thought. "What I'll do is visit all the girls one by one and 
tell them what it is like to be free. I'll stay away from their meetings 
because there's too many of them there, I'd get jumped. But I can handle one 
by one." 

"I don't think you'll ever be safe, sweetheart. The club hasn't raided my 
home because I know too much about them. But once you're out on your own 
they'll repossess you just like a finance company on a delinquent car. 
Haven't you thought of that?" 

I hadn't thought of it but did so now. "They wouldn't dare," I said with 
fine assurance. "They're not going to walk into my house and drag a 
screaming girl out to the car." 

"You know damned well that isn't how they'll do it. They'll employ a couple 
of the boys to handle it easily, or there will be something in your coffee 
sometime and you'll wake up with your hands and feet in irons." 

"Like now?" 

"Like now. That's what will happen." Tom was regarding me soberly. With the 
sandpaper gone I was paying attention. 

"That SC bunch will be hoping mad and thinking up things to do to you when 
you're once more their prisoner. What I'm saying is, it is shockingly to 
make any girl a prisoner any time. If I were to turn you loose on the 
street, I could repossess you again within a day. Honey, you're on the 
spot." 

Tom was so serious I had to think about what he was saying. I had a feeling 
he was looking after me and didn't want me to fall back into the clutches of 
the SC. Without much thought I challenged, "I don't have a future, do I? But 
suppose you don't let me loose at the end of my thirty days? Suppose you 
keep me chained as your slave. What about that?" 

"It would be easy, do you want me to do it?" 

"No, of course not. I want to be free so bad. Oh, Tom, is my situation that 
bad?" 

"Every bit. Angelique, you're an exquisite creature ideally designed for 
chains and slavery. I don't think you realize it yet but you enjoy most of 
it, too. Am I right?" 

"No!" I found myself panting and a little comer of my mind said that he was 
right. There wasn't much those girls did that you really hated, it told me. 
I found myself on the defensive. 

"Well, all right then, I suppose there was a thrill in most of it, even the 
handcuffs forever bit. But never enough to compensate for loss of liberty." 

Tom was laughing at me. With a quick switch she demanded, "How's your seat?" 

"It's terrible. May I stand up?" 

"No, keep sitting on it. I've never seen you so well behaved." 

"It burns and hurts something awful. Please let me stand a little bit." 

"You've been taught not to complain." He reached down and replaced the 
sandpaper circle on the couch. "Sit on this again until you're ready to make 
an apology." 

"I'll make an apology now." 

"You're not getting off that easy. Sit!" 

I sat. And hurt. 

"You're a smart girl but I can see that you don't believe me about how easy 
it is to pick up a girl." He sighed then glanced at his watch. "Well, I have 
some business to attend to in the town. I'm sure you won't mind waiting 
right her for me?" 

I didn't answer as it didn't really seem to be a question. He helped me to 
my feet and walked me over to a wall. There was a ring set solidly in it 
with about a foot of chain dangling from that. The end of that chain just 
reached my neck collar where he padlocked it. Then he left, I could stand 
with my face looking at a blank wall a few inches away or I could awkwardly 
turn around and stand with my back against the wall and stare out into the 
room. I sighed and felt my tender bottom gently with my fingertips. 

It was most of the afternoon before he returned. My bottom was still 
sensitive but no longer burning when I heard the sounds of his return. I 
gazed expectantly towards the door but it was not Tom who walked in. 

It was Dorothy Dawson. 

 Chapter 7 Breast Strokes 

Dorothy shuffled her way in on chained feet. She was naked and wore her 
hands cuffed behind her back as I did. Behind her was Tom Fredrick's. With a 
grin he made her walk over to stand beside me. 

"I told you it would be easy to kidnap any girl if you set your mind to it. 
I just walked in and took this lovely creature out." 

I could just stare in disbelief while Dorothy blushed and averted her eyes 
from the male gloating before us. She had lived such a sheltered life before 
and just wasn't used to being a prisoner. She had to wonder if she had been 
rescued by this handsome male or taken to a deeper captivity. 

"And you should have seen the face on Avis Bonner when I walked right past 
her, carrying Dorothy away." He laughed as he sat down on the couch to view 
with unrestrained joy his two possessions. 

"Please," began Dorothy weakly, "I'm grateful for you rescuing me but could 
you please let me go now?" 

"No." The reply was simple and straight to the point. 

"Well, when will you let me go?" she asked. 

"When I get tired of you in bed." He looked her up and down in a way to make 
any girl blush. "That may be a long time." 

"Please, Mr. Fredrick's, need I remind you that the SC is not without power. 
The girls will not let this invasion of our homes go unanswered." 

"That so?" 

"Yes," she continued, warming up. "I should think that you will very soon 
find out the power of the SC in a way you will not like." 

"Is that a threat?" 

"Let me go, you bastard." Dorothy immediately realized her mistake and 
turned a little pale. 

Tom just continued that grin. "I think a lesson is in order. You both are my 
slaves and you had better remember that. Bend over." 

The order was unexpected. Dorothy knew what was expected of a slave in this 
situation but it was hard for her to emotionally accept and obey. She had 
been made a slave only a short time before and was still used to giving 
orders, not taking them. But she saw in his eyes that he was serious. She 
bend over. 

The first stroke took her by surprise. She had expected it but not the 
terrible fire and pain that exploded in her bottom. 

"I've told Angelique about my preference for whips on a girl's bottom rather 
than canes or riding crops. Probably hurts a little more but, well, that's 
the plan, isn't it?" 

Dorothy had stood up and hopped around with the first stroke. It was very 
hard for her to force herself to bend over. The second stroke brought tears 
to her eyes and a gasp of pain that was close to a scream. Her tears flowed 
as she bend over again. 

My heart went out for the poor girl. It was my guess that she had not yet 
been whipped by Avis and just wasn't prepared for this. She fell to the 
carpet with the next stroke, and the gasp was a scream. She struggled to her 
feet at our master's order and readied herself for the next cut. 

After the fifth stroke, Dorothy was allowed to stand next to me. 

"Just so you'll know I'm serious. But I can be kind, too. Every evening, 
after I've given your bottoms a whipping, I'll put you two together so you 
can cry on each other's shoulders. Now, what was that you were saying about 
the SC coming to get you?" 

It was an effort for Dorothy to get her voice under control but the sobs did 
stop. "The girls will be mad." 

"I'm sure," Tom replied. "Go now, what will they do?" 

"Well, for one thing the girls might get together and all come here to take 
us back. I don't think you could do much about twenty-five angry women." 

Tom grinned. "Go on, what else?" 

"Most of the girls are quite rich. And powerful. They hired a couple of 
gangsters to kidnap Connie, guys who do that all the time for money. They 
could hire a dozen such men to come here and take us back." She shuttered. 
"They might even punish us for something we didn't do." 

Tom nodded. "Anything else?" 

"Let me go. I think I could talk the girls into some kind of a compromise. 
I'll come back and be your slave again. What I want to avoid is a sort of a 
war." 

"Come off it. Those bitches would have you stripped and in chains in a 
minute!" Tom appeared to consider for a moment. "I'll trade you back to them 
in consideration of them forgetting about Angelique. When I'm through with 
Angelique I want to know that she's really free and won't be kidnapped again 
or hunted by the SC or anyone else. How 'bout talking on the phone?" 

Dorothy looked first at me then at the man who held her prisoner. "Very 
well, if that's what you want. It won't do any good." 

Tom dialed the number and held the receiver to his prisoner's ear, leaning 
close to pick up the message. I watched poor Dorothy's face and her 
pleadings, until Tom took the receiver himself to speak forcibly. When he 
returned the phone to its cradle he looked at his two girls in disgust. 

"Those little bitches think they own the earth." His voice held contempt. 
"I've a damned good mind to kidnap the whole lot of them one by one and whip 
some sense into their pussies and heads. Best thing is to forget them, they 
can't do anything." 

Poor, dear Dorothy! So far as the SC went, we were both escape prisoners and 
subject to repossession. In a month Tom would set me free and I could look 
forward to the club getting me back. And Dorothy would remain his prisoner 
for as long as he chose. 

I was glad when Tom broke the somber reflections. "I told you girls I'd give 
you some time together. It's getting late so I can't take you down and put 
you in the cage." Instead he locked Dorothy to another ring in the same wall 
as I was tethered. "I've fixed you close so you can do whatever you want to 
do, except what you probably want to do most of all. There will be no more 
of that while you belong to me." 

He patted our bottoms before going away. Dorothy and I kissed in a great 
thankfulness at being so close, our breasts rubbing together in a very nice 
way. Even when excitation told us to stop, we remained pressed close 
together to find what comfort we could. 

"I won't use that beastly four letter word but Tom is going to rape me, 
isn't he?" 

"I expect so, he's done it to me already and he's very good at it. Dorothy, 
it's not the end of the world, you know." 

"Avis Bonner told me how angry the bunch was over loosing you and now Tom's 
stolen me as well. There'll be a bunch of hornets ready to stink." I could 
feel her quivering. "Don't you see the spot I'm in? If the girls rescue me, 
I'll have to finish a year's sentence. If they don't succeed in that, Tom 
Fredrick's will keep me for goodness knows how long. Do you think we can 
talk him into letting both of us go free at the end of your thirty days?" 

"I doubt it but we can try." 

She managed a snicker. "The trouble is I don't know which one I want, or if 
I want either of them. I mean, the girls might punish me. But Tom might whip 
me, too. Would he?" 

"Damned right he will." 

"Which one would punish me the least?" 

"The girls, some of them are kind. I'm sure Tom doesn't think of himself as 
cruel but his whip hurts." 

"Has he given you any chance to escape?" 

"Gosh, no. This handcuff and leg-iron routine is foolproof." 

It was terrible not to be able to give Dorothy some good news. We were a 
pair of helplessly chained prisoners, now of a man instead of a bunch of sex 
hungry girls. But we were owned either way. 

It was lovely to press close to this girl. We whispered possibilities back 
and forth without reaching any kind of conclusion. When Tom Fredrick's 
unsnapped our collars to take us to bed, I have to admit to quivering 
delight but was pretty sure poor Dorothy was viewing it as rape, and was 
probably wondering how bad it would hurt. I wished I could help but it was 
too late now. Two slavegirls made metallic music as they walked towards what 
Queen Victoria would have considered a fate worse than death. 

Tom had already installed a second chain for his new captive and snapped it 
shut on her collar. He then snapped me and brought Dorothy's blush back to 
life by stripping as naked as we were. After a single horrified glance at 
male genitals, Dorothy hung her head. 

"Come on, Angelique, my sweet," Tom commanded happily. "Show this lost 
lesbian how it's done." He sneered, "She probably doesn't even know." 

I placed myself on the bed and made myself as comfortable as a chained girl 
can while Dorothy stared in fascinated horror. The random thought raced 
through my mind that Dorothy was probably consigning me to a horrible 
whipping when she got me back under her control. Perhaps I did look a little 
wanton. Perhaps it was the smile on my face. 

The thought that Tom might soon convert Dorothy away from lesbianism was a 
comfort to me but I was more interested in that more than ready rod. I 
spread my legs as wide as the golden shackle permitted. 

When I blinked my way back into the real world, Dorothy was still standing 
and staring in what I suspected was a blend of disgust and desire. 

"Angelique, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" 

"Oh, I am," I said. 

I was suddenly shy, not wishing to witness the shame of a girl I loved. 
"Please chain me somewhere out of sight," I pleaded. "Dorothy will hate 
having me watch." 

"Too damned bad! You'll watch, sweetheart, and she'll like it. Was fun, 
wasn't it?" 

I am sure it would be useless for any girl to try and think only pure 
thoughts and feel only revolt at the nearness of a male tool about to pierce 
her vagina. When it actually entered her, there was no chance of Dorothy 
maintaining a dispassionate separation of her mind and body. Tom's vigorous 
thrustings quickly had the chained girl responding and every trace of 
rebellion wiped from her face. Her eyes closed and she made tiny sounds of 
delight. Thereafter I knew I was watching the age old battle of the sexes 
and one more phallus victory. 

That night Tom Fredrick's slept happily between a pair of chained and naked 
girls who owed him much. 

Had the sortie been successful, it would have had about it a sort of poetic 
justice. In the morning Tom announced an absence due to business and locked 
us both in a downstairs cage. As an emphasis he locked a chain around 
Dorothy's middle and another to the belt I would wear forever. There was 
plenty of chain so they did not matter much. At least that's the way we 
figured it when he kissed us goodbye and locked us in. Once more alone, my 
former mistress and I dived straight away into speculations on our captivity 
and why the devil Tom had added the heavy chains around our tummies and 
anchored them to the heavy ringbolt in the concrete wall. 

We were busy whispering when the door opened and Avis Bonner walked in. 

Avis was not alone, she was followed by two large girls and Betty Harmon. 
"We've come to take you back home, darlings," Avis announced happily. "That 
idiot man has driven away somewhere so now's our chance. We'll play the same 
trick on him that he played us. Except you two will walk to the car instead 
of being carried. Sorry it's taken so long." 

They had all sorts of keys and a bolt cutter. The cage door yielded to one 
of the keys. After some kissing and hugs, they went to work on Tom's fresh 
chains on our waists. None of their keys would open the padlocks. Dorothy 
and I could do nothing to help. We stood and watched. And we could not help 
but notice that none of the girls had done a thing about our handcuffs or 
leg irons. And no doubt they were happy to find us still packaged for their 
convenience. They were also happy to discover the golden restraints upon my 
hands and feet. 

Since the keys failed, they now inserted my tethering chain into the jaws of 
the bolt cutter. Gleefully, they pushed down hard. 

Nothing happened. When the girls tried another link the first one failed to 
show even a scratch. After much effort neither Dorothy's nor my chains had 
parted and we were still prisoners to the wall. The SC was not equipped to 
deal with his heavy duty bondage. 

"The son of a bitch must have figured on something like this," Betty Harmon 
exclaimed disgustedly. "What do we do now!" 

"I said we should have brought a couple of men with tools." 

"The only way we'll get them is to smash the concrete to get that ring bolt 
loose. We can't even cut away Angelique's lovely belt." 

The four girls looked at each other and us in bafflement and anguish. "Could 
we phone and get help," Avis suggest, 

"There isn't time," Betty Harmon said. "The bastard has us beat this time 
and what we'd best do is lock the door again and creep away as if we'd never 
been here. If these two don't say a word he'll never know. That way they 
won't get punished. Maybe we can come back another time with more equipment 
or a couple of men." She gazed at Dorothy and I. "Darlings, I'm so terribly 
sorry." 

The girls did not give up easily, trying their keys again. So absorbed were 
we in these efforts we failed to see or hear the presence of our man. By the 
time realization dawned, Tom Fredrick's had the cage door locked with the 
four would-be rescuers safe inside. 

Happily, he used a bit of chain and a padlock to insure the closing of his 
trap. Not a single girl spoke, so complete was his surprised on them. None 
protested or threatened. It was Tom Fredrick's who spoke first. 

"I'm so glad you came. I know you would so I was waiting." He picked on Avis 
as the leader. "What are you expecting to happen next?" 

"If you have any sense at all, you'll unlock this door and let us all go." 

"I'm afraid I'm a bit short on sense today. The last thing I intend is to 
turn you lose. Think again." 

"The club won't let you get away with this. You really are playing with fire 
Mr. Fredrick's." Avis sounded desperate. 

"Playing with fire!" The phrase appeared to please. "A nice idea. I'll warm 
my hands before I warm your rumps. How's that grab you?" Not a single girl 
answered. Dorothy and I were simply an audience. Our four rescuers looked at 
each other with fear in their eyes and allowed the Master to once more take 
the floor. "Now, here's what I'm going to do," he said heavily. "I'm going 
to whip those pretty little bottoms of yours before sending you home." He 
beamed cheerfully at all present. "When you get back you'll tell them I'll 
do the same thing to any of the rest of you who have the nerve to enter my 
house without invitation." 

"You wouldn't dare," said Betty Harmon without conviction. 

"The first thing I want of you is your clothes. Throw them out through the 
bars. I'll put them in a pile so you can have them later." 

"You're dreaming." 

"There's no way we're going to do that." 

The denials were serious. Even I had to wonder how Tom would impose his will 
on four healthy young women, two of which were brought along because they 
were the largest members of the Sensuality Club. My doubt was needless, Tom 
had things well in hand. 

"You almost have to refuse, don't you," he agreed. "But we've got lots of 
time so you can stay behind those bars until you decided to strip. You may 
take several days. In the meantime you'll get neither food nor drink. Think 
about it." 

Four clothed girls looked at each other in dismay. "The son of a bitch means 
it!" 

"And he can get away with it. Oh, shit!" 

The four looked at me and asked, "You know him best, Angelique. Will he do 
"Yes, he will. He's a Force." 

There was now a debate which beat back and forth within the bars to arrive 
at an obvious conclusion. "Let's do it now and get it over with." 

There was unhappy agreement and promises to go home and get help once he let 
them go. 

"Angelique, darling, will he hurt us? I mean, real bad?" 

"He certainly will. He doesn't use a cane. I don't know what to tell you to 
do. He can do whatever he likes with the whole bunch of us." 

We were still arguing when our master returned. "Well!" 

There were a few moments of silence before one of the girls slipped out of 
her dress and tossed it to the waiting man. Slowly and hating every second, 
the other three followed her lead while Tom looked eagerly on. When four 
naked girls were trying to hide behind their hands, the male gathered up the 
discarded clothes and disappeared with them. When he returned he had another 
demand. 

"The club has sentenced Angelique to be branded. I want your assurance that 
will not be done." 

"What does it matter? You've got her, we haven't. She's safe. Besides it 
takes a vote by the whole club to do what you want." 

"Angelique goes free at the end of thirty days but I'm holding on to Dorothy 
Dawson. The day you repossess Angelique will be the day I bum some letters 
of my own in Dorothy's skin. You wouldn't want that-would you?" 

"All right then, no brand," Avis said with heat. She turned to smile at me. 
"Angelique, dear, we're going to get you back. If we don't reclaim you 
before this man turns you lose, we'll get you afterwards. We all love you 
and simply will not let you go." 

"Well, that looks after that," Tom said. "The only thing left to do is whip 
you bottoms. Just be patient a moment." 

Six girls watched a man preparing to whip for girl's bottoms. At the same 
time he passed us comments that we be informed. 

"I'd keep the whole jolly lot of you if I weren't a practical man. But life 
is mostly compromise and you can't push too hard in one direction you'll get 
hit from another. Wouldn't you agree that if I keep you for visitors, that 
club of yours might get so mad that they'd do something stupid? If I let you 
go home, they'll respect my judgment. And you can show them your bottoms so 
they'll know I'm not a man to mess with. These little whippings I am about 
to administer will nicely fill the bill." 

The four new nudes were still blushing and trying to cover three places with 
two hands. Since I had been nude for over a year it was no big thing to me. 
I almost laughed at these girl's attempts. But poor Dorothy was as upset as 
they. Our master's voice continued. 

"There's a fellow I know who would play quite a price for the privilege of 
putting you four in a whore house. I don't suppose you'd enjoy that much. 
The only reason I'm not doing that is to prove to you I'm a reasonable man 
who believes in moderation. I'll make sure your ass is a pretty purple but, 
unless you provoke me with wisecracks, that's all that will happen to you. 
Remember this and know yourselves lucky while it's happening." 

We surveyed the suspended hooks with misgivings, having little doubt as to 
their use. Tom Fredrick's had thought of everything and no commanded, "I 
want the bunch of you to get over to the far wall. When I open the door one 
of you will come out. If all of you rush the door, I'll just slam it and you 
can spend a day or so until I ask you again." 

"He's paying us a tribute." said Betty Harmon. "The bastard figures he can 
handle one of us but not four." 

Betty Harmon was the first one to step forward as the door was opened. She 
offered her hands to be bound without a word. A hook came down to snare the 
rope and raise her arms to relief her of the effort of trying to cover 
anything. 

"Hey, stop it, you're lifting me off the ground!" came her shocked cry. 

"That's right, sweetheart, give you a chance to kick. Wiggled all you please 
and I'll catch you with the whip when you come around. Ever been whipped?" 

"Of course not! Let my feet down, you mustn't do this." 

It is a sad fact that a naked girt suspended from her wrists is often more 
lovely than at any other time. It was so with Betty, who was now busy 
peddling an invisible bike in her efforts to find the floor. Tom watched 
this approvingly for several moments before he struck. 

I'm been whipped so often but the whole performance still fascinates. It's 
largely sexual, of course, the thunk of thong on flesh lights a fire in 
anyone's loins, even that of the girl who's flesh is marked by the leather 
kiss. Betty Harmon heaved herself up by bound wrists in pure shock and 
emitted a chocked scream, more of anger than of pain. 

Tom Fredrick's did exactly as he had promised. He stood still and lashed out 
as the struggling beauty presented a good angle. The cuts were swift and 
hard. I doubt I would have accepted those blows without screaming. Betty 
Harmon held out until the fourth stroke, showing the pain mostly by a crazed 
and jerky dance she performed at the end of her tether. After the fourth she 
screamed. Her bottom began burning. As her punishment progressed she no 
longer tried to hold in the screams. It was shameful and beautiful in some 
strange way. 

Without pause, Tom Fredrick's administered twenty strokes, turning her 
bottom purples. When finished he left her to hang and opened the cage door. 
"Next?" 

One of the larger girls was number two. I knew she wanted to fight but 
didn't dare. Her wrists were swiftly bound and soon her feet were lifted 
from the floor. By some miracle she contrived only gasps and moans as her 
flesh was wealed and the scarlet streaks gave way to purple. But her dance 
of pain was every bit as vivid as Betty Harmon's had been. Again and again 
she raised herself up by the bound wrists, only to jerk back down. When the 
twenty strokes had done she was left to hang. 

The male demand of "Next!" extracted Avis Bonner. She gave me a wry grin in 
passing before offering her own nakedness to be bound and suspended with the 
other two. As her wrists were tied, she addressed Tom Fredrick's quietly. 

"I think you're making a mistake, Mr. Fredrick's. This won't deter, it will 
only enrage the rest of the membership." It was the tone of sweet reason. 

"Will it now!" The masculine voice had a ring of steel. "That's one of the 
remarks I didn't want. You've earned an extra five." 

I saw Avis flinch and longed to cry aloud in bitter protest. But fear kept 
me silent. I could soon be hanging with the rest. Dorothy and I exchanged 
horrified glances as Avis's feet left the floor and the frightful ritual 
began again. I think we all winced with every stroke. 

Avis screamed throughout her punishment. From the frightful purple welts I 
know he was hitting her far harder than he need. After twenty he paused. 
'This could have been the end of it for you. You were lippy and I won't 
tolerate a lippy broad. Now you get your extra five." 

"Yes, I understand." Even in her agony. Avis Bonner's voice was quietly 
resigned. 

The five were needless cruel. When Tom left the sweat-drenched and vividly 
beaten nude, Avis was weeping. The opening of the cage door and the cry of 
"Next" was automatic. When the seat of number four finally bore the vivid 
strips of male disapproval, its owner was allow to hang in anguish while my 
master turned his attention to Dorothy Dawson in the cage. 

"I've changed my mind, Miss Dawson," he said politely. "I aim to make that 
club of yours to forget this whole thing and leave Angelique and me alone. 
No more invasions of this house and no more kidnappings beyond." He sighed. 
"I had intended to keep you but I will allow you to go back to the club if, 
of your own free will, you ask me to whip you the same as I have these 
girls. Seems to me I'm offering you a pretty fair deal?" 

She, too, flinched under the impact of this unexpected proportion. But 
freedom is a powerful lure she could not resist. "Thank you, I accept. 
Please whip me in the same way you have whipped my friends and send me home 
with them. 

Her surrender was exquisitely simple. 

Alone in the cage I pressed my breasts against the bars to watch. If Dorothy 
had expected freedom she would be disappointed. For the whipping of her 
bottom there was no need to free her hands. Tom simply raised them up behind 
her back in the manner I know all too well. When she was bent wickedly 
forward, he messaged the tight, young bottom before taking up his stance. He 
then whipped poor, darling Dorothy Dawson. She did not even have the relief 
of kicking or jerking herself up by bound hands as did our would be 
rescuers. True, she could used chained feet in evasive but scorned so 
useless an act and with extraordinary courage, considering how virgin her 
skin was to the thong, did no more than kick at shackled feet and sway from 
side to side as purple took the place of red and moans turned to cries of 
distress. 

Having delivered Dorothy's pain, he lowered her punished arms, unlocked the 
handcuffs, and took the leg irons off, to leave Dorothy standing in 
disbelief. One hand went back to explore the throbbing weals which were her 
tribute to the male. Tom then lowered Betty Harmon to the floor. His command 
was curt, "Get yourselves dressed." 

"But I haven't any clothes," Dorothy protested. 

"Then go home naked." 

Three nudes hung in silent doubt. I gazed longingly through the bars at a 
freedom I was not to share. When Betty Harmon was once more clothed, the 
second girl was lowered and told to dress. With two girls back to normal, my 
master thrust at them a swift decision. "Here's your beautiful Dorothy 
Dawson, and I'll give you handcuffs and leg irons. You can fasten her or 
give her freedom, I don't care. But if you chose to give her freedom, she'll 
walk out of here stark naked and without a dime." 

It might have been a cruel decision to have to make but was not a decision 
for the girls. "Darling, if you think you can get the best of us, let's have 
a fight and see who wins. Don't forget, you're still under sentence and that 
twelve months of slavery still holds." 

I had to admire their single-minded purpose. Behind them was the power of 
the club! 

I think if Dorothy would have been clothed she would have elected to walk 
out the door and take her chances on being repossessed and punished as a 
runaway slave. But naked is terrible for a girl, you feel so terribly 
defenseless. We watched until she said unhappily, "Okay, keep me prisoner. 
I'll go back with you." She sighed miserably as she turned her back and 
offered her hands. When her feet were ironed she was back to square one with 
nothing to look forward to save a year's enslavement. But at the end of 
twelve months she would be free and once more a mistress in the club. 

Feeling more and more alone behind the bars I watched my fellow members get 
dressed while Dorothy stood to one side, chained, obviously feeling low, and 
probably wondering what the girls would do to her when she was once more 
back in her house. It is amazing what handcuffs and leg irons do to a girl. 
The poor darling was obviously already very much a slave. Once more her 
wrists were busy with their steel shackles. 

I cannot tell how the message passed from girl to girl but immediately all 
four were fully clothed they rushed Tom Fredrick's in outraged fury. For an 
instant he disappeared beneath a pile of girls who kicked and clawed and 
bit. With some men it might have worked. Four healthy young women against a 
single male might have placed most men at an disadvantage. But Tom 
Fredrick's must have picked up a sign somewhere and was ready for the rush. 
For a few moments I thought the girls would win, but he prevailed. For a 
man, when necessary, does not hesitate to use his fists while a woman can 
only kick and claw and, if she tries to hit, deliver pitifully weak blows. 
Superior strength also allowed him to man-handle the girls around, pulling 
an arm behind a back here and clicking a handcuff on a wrist there. Suddenly 
all four girls lay panting on the floor, all eight arms locked in steel 
behind backs. 

My heart went out to them, freedom had been so close for them and was 
snatched away by their own stupid actions. All were silent as they awaited 
sentence. Tom Fredrick's grinned at a couple of breasts hanging out of tore 
clothes. "You girls don't have a lick of sense," he casually informed. "What 
the hell do I do with you now!" 

"Please send us home," said one girl. "We'll apologize and promise to behave 
ourselves. We won't bother you again." 

"You're damned right you won't!" My master seemed little inclined to 
sympathy. "Seems like you girls need breaking in. I thought sending you back 
with a whipped ass would be enough, but I guess I was wrong. Well, never 
mind, I've thought of something else." 

Tom Fredrick's must have purchased handcuffs in wholesale quantities. I 
never saw were he got all those pairs from and he had done it right in front 
of me. He then arranged the handcuffs so that each girl had her left wrist 
locked to the bars of the cage and her right wrist free. "Strip!" came his 
sharp command. 

Slowly, sadly, they removed her clothes. That being done, her master bound 
her wrists with rope from a drawer and cinched her elbows cruelly tight. 
Next he removed the hook from a suspension rope and noosed it around her 
neck to compel her to stand erect with breasts out thrust. 

"I suppose you know what I'm going to do?" 

She knew! So did the rest of us. Confirmation came. "You've guessed where 
I'm going to whip. Ten on each breast. Maybe by that time you'll learn. In 
case you're figuring on leaping around all over, I'll give you a choice. 
Stand still and stick them out for ten each or leap around for twenty. Don't 
say I never try to be helpful." 

What a choice! It was far more cruel than binding a girl so she can't move. 
And I wonder how any girl could possibly stick out her breasts to have them 
whipped. It was just too much. 

But before any of us could say a word, Tom flourished a small but wicked 
little and cut it across the right breast of the girl so cruelly bound. As 
though carved in marble, the girl stood still and continued to stand still 
as stroke after stroke left imprints on her lovely mounds. It was an amazing 
demonstration. She whimpered and gasped throughout but never once screamed 
or sought to move her breast out of harm's way. 

It was very simple. Tom now freed that bound girl but handcuffed her wrists 
to the bars of my cage again. Then he took Avis and bound her arms as 
before. 

I could well understand how a girl would try her best to stand still for ten 
but I was not a bit sure I could do it myself. I realized Tom was using a 
special kind of whip to do no injury while delivering a healthy sting. Avis 
cried out in pain. She stamped her feet. She even screamed. But she stood 
her ground bravely and was rewarded with only ten on each breast. 

Then there was the next girl. Tom took his time, enjoying each tightening of 
the ropes, each swish of the whip, and each gasp of pain. When four pairs of 
breasts had been reddened and their owners tethered to the cage, they were 
told to stand at attention and face their captor. Tom took each girl's photo 
and then of them as a group. No girl said thank you but all obeyed quickly 
when told to face the bars to give Tom's camera the opportunity to record 
bottoms terribly wealed. Even Dorothy was included in that shot. 

My loins responded to such a sight with a heat that shamed me. How could I 
get excited about my friend's suffering? Yet there is was. I had never seen 
so much battered flesh in my life. These girls would not be comfortable 
sitting down for a while and would prefer not to wear too tight a bra, 
either. 

Tom freed captive wrists and told them to dress and depart without delay. 

I was suddenly alone. 

 Chapter 8 Maidens in Distress 

I was alone again. I missed Dorothy even though I had been jealous when my 
man turned his attentions to her. I fought my handcuffs furiously while she 
was getting fucked! Even when she was whipped I felt a longing that my 
master not have another women in his house. 

It was therefore with a feeling of relief and getting back to normal as I 
stood inside the big cage to gaze through the bars at the man I now called 
Master. If ever a man had mastered a girl, it was me. Watching him whip 
eight breasts and five bottoms had left me scared of his authority. The way 
he was looking back at me left me uncertain as to whether my own breasts and 
bottom were safe, or whether he would change their color. 

I went close to the bars and said, "Thank you, Tom, for getting me off the 
hook over the brand. That was wonderful." 

"It would only be wonderful if they recaptured you, sweetheart. He winked. 
"Think, only twenty-nine days until you walk out to the world and become 
fair game. That bunch I just whipped told you how much they wanted you." 

"They won't get me. I'll never let them take me again!" 

He was delighted by my feelings but cynical as ever. "The only way you're 
going to be safe from those girls, sweetheart, is to talk the police into 
locking you in a cell and keeping you there for the next ten years." 

"That's not going to happen, either." 

"How'd it be I let you out of that cage? I don't know why we're standing 
there talking through the bars." 

Once out of the cage Tom gathered my into his arms to become a tender and 
loving male who couldn't get enough of me. This is a nice feeling for any 
girl and I loved every moment so when I stood back gasping it was easy to 
say, 'Tom, please let me be free. I couldn't put my arms around you just now 
and it was something I wanted very bad. Please, take the handcuffs from my 
wrists and the leg irons from my ankles. I'll love you to bits forever." 

I'd touched him, I could tell. But I was a long way from wining a battle. 
Except that Tom's voice was now more sober and more thoughtful. "Honeybunch, 
you're forgetting I want a slavegirl, not a wife." 

"Any man could say the same thing about marrying his secretary." 

"But, gosh, we're not talking about marriage." He shook his head. "That's 
the way with you girls, if we give you an inch you want a mile. No, the 
proper way to handle you is exactly the way I have you now. And, anyway, 
what the hell would you do with yourself if you were completely free? You'd 
be bored stiff." 

"That's another way of saying I'll be bored stiff in twenty-nine days." 

"Well, won't you?" 

The longing for my hands and feet had never been so great. And I knew ... 
Tom had somewhere a few bites of metal that could unlock my shackles and set 
me free. Unhappily, I shrugged. "If you think I'd be bored all day because I 
wasn't chained or tied, you reduce me to nothing more than a female body, 
convenient to appease your sexual urges." Even I heard the heart-break in my 
voice. 'Tom, is that the way of it? Is that all I really am? A convenient 
cunt?" 

I could swear Tom Fredrick's winched at my vulgarity. I'd hit a nerve. But 
he was not defensive, simply matching his wits against a woman. "That's 
really all any girl is," he insisted. "A man can't even be sure of her being 
available for that unless he keeps his eye on her. Right now I've got you 
the way a girl should be." He shrugged. "It may be rough on the girl 
although you seem to thrive on it. But if a man is physically strong or 
financially stable, it's the best bet. The divorce statistics don't make a 
free girl the least bit attractive." 

"If I were free, I'd be a lot more fun for you in bed." 

"I'm not even sure of that. In fact, I think it's probably just the reverse. 
Think about it." 

I had thought about it often. He was probably right. There had been 
something gorgeously erotic and exciting in our sexual encounters, some sort 
of extra factor, quite apart and in addition to his extraordinary sexual 
abilities. 

I sniffed and put on the feminine act of pretending the subject beneath 
consideration. Tom wasn't fooled. "How would you like me to whip your ass 
again?" he asked as if offering help to a girl in need. 

"That's your answer to everything, isn't it?" I sniffed again. "If a girl 
disagrees with you, whip her ass. In fact, whip her ass anyway, it will do 
her good. Tom Fredrick's, you make me so damned mad!" 

"Just trying to help. Honeybunch, don't you realize it's the handcuffs and 
leg irons which make you back side as available as your front. If you were 
free, you'd make the damndest fuss about being whipped and probably run back 
to mother every second day. This way works fine." 

"It works fine for you because I'm a slave, you own me. No need to be proud 
about it." 

"Not a matter of pride, sweetheart, just convenience." 

I stood there before The Master, my breasts heaving angrily, and my hands 
twisting for a freedom they weren't to get. This was getting on dangerous 
grounds, and I could tell I was likely to be whipped at any moment. Nothing 
bad, perhaps, but enough to calm me down and make me humble. "But, Tom," I 
pleaded, "couldn't we sort of forget that for now and you make me a present 
of half an hour's freedom? We could go upstairs and have a drink. Whenever 
you said the word, I'll stand quietly for you to chain me again the way I 
am. Please?" 

Tom would always be a surprise but I did not underrate the pathos in my 
voice as I made my pitch. In less than a minute my golden shackles were on 
the floor and I was embracing my owner with two arms gloriously free. I 
nuzzled my lips against his neck, twisted a free foot around one of his, and 
generally behaved in a manner mother would not approve of. 

The thank you I whispered in his ear was sincere. I got my bottom patted and 
was told to precede my lord and master upstairs. Reaching the lounge I was 
further instructed to mix the drinks for both of us and serve my master on 
my knees. I played my part very well. 

"May I have permission to do the thing I want most of all?" I asked while on 
my knees. 

"I won't ask. Go ahead." 

All I wanted to do was leap and jump and kick and wave my arms in wild 
abandon. I was well aware my master approved and enjoyed this exhibition of 
a female body. When I once more knelt for his approval I was breathless and 
panting. Once more I said a demure thank you and meant it. 

We later talked about the Sensuality Club's intent to recapture me and my 
coming freedom. I was sure I knew the Sensuality Club so well that I could 
avoid their traps. I could have the girls I liked visit me one at a time. I 
could handle one girl at a time. All I had to do was avoid their meetings. I 
will admit the seriousness of what the girl said to me really struck home. 
But I was sure they did what they did out of love. 

"I sent that Dorothy Dawson back home, sweetheart, because I preferred you. 
No use having two girls around when you're happy with one. And, anyway, I 
proved my point that I can pick on up any time I wish. That Sensuality Club 
bunch now know that now a single one of them is safe. How would you like me 
to pick up that Connie slavegirl tomorrow?" 

"Please don't until after I'm free. We don't need company." 

"Jealous." 

"I'll be everything you want in a slavegirl so you don't need Connie." 

We sparred back and forth, enjoying ourselves. I felt wonderful and, of 
course, I was hoping Tom wouldn't chain me again. Then it occurred to me 
that I wouldn't mind marrying Tom. I was pretty sure I could train him so I 
wouldn't get whipped more than once a week, or once a month. I was pretty 
sure I could handle him even if I did get my skin marked once in a while. I 
was so happy with this pretty dream I forgot time. But time goes on and my 
fantasy fell shattered to the floor when Tom announced that time was us and 
I should stand for rechaining. 

I was as sad little girl indeed as I put my arms behind my back and 
positioning my feet. I was bitterly disappointed but I had really hoped that 
Tom would really enjoy me running free enough to prolong that freedom. He 
must have read my thoughts for he said frankly, "Sorry, Angelique honey, but 
I didn't want that freedom to become a habit. Fact is, I am in love with you 
in these golden chains and I don't want you any other way. I guess I'm a 
kook." 

If you're so much in love with my golden chains, why don't you let me go and 
sleep with them instead," I inquired bitterly. 

"You're being lippy but I'll overlook it this time. I knew damned well I was 
making a mistake giving you that bit of freedom. You would be happier right 
now if I had left you chained in the first place." 

"It's cruel to give a girl something than snatch it away." 

"The thirty minutes was your idea, honey." Tom grinned and snapped the lock 
on my leg irons. 

I wanted to cry. I know it was silly but that was the way it was. I should 
have known that lovely dream could not come true. My voice was teary as I 
asked, "Shall I kneel before you in my chains once more, Master?" 

"Of course I want you there. And since you can't control your tongue you can 
leave your knees well apart and keep your head bowed for the next five 
minutes. Damn it, I must be going soft!" 

It was then the door bell rang. 

I could have eased dropped but the sound of my chains would have betrayed 
me. I stayed kneeling on the rug and heard only the distance sound of 
voices. I didn't care much who it was or what they wanted because I was 
pretty sure it wouldn't be the Sensuality Club again and I wasn't in any 
danger of being rescued. Besides, I wasn't sure I wanted to be rescued. It 
seemed a nice idea to serve out my time. I was pledge to Tom, and then a 
walk into freedom. 

Approaching footsteps told me I would get to see the visitor. I looked 
expectantly to the door and will be damned if Tom didn't usher in a very 
pretty girl. It was several moments before I recognized Jennifer Seabright. 
The pleasure in her greeting was genuine, and I wished Tom had left me free 
long enough to use my arms in greeting. 

I expect Jennifer knew the way I felt. Her reassurance was instant, "Don't 
worry about being chained, darling. The brute of a man used to keep me 
chained the same way." She paused dramatically, her "Angelique! Those 
glorious golden chains! And that beautiful belt and collar! Oh, wow!" 

"I'm glad you like them, I get tired of them myself." 

"You've been a slavegirl too long, dear," Jennifer said. "Or has Tom been 
abusing you? Let me see your bottom." 

"She's sitting on it," Tom said shortly. "And I've whipped her ass if that's 
what you're thinking of." 

"It wouldn't be you if you didn't." Jennifer seemed well in control of 
things. "Angelique has given me the loveliest idea. Perhaps you would like 
to tell her why I'm here today." 

"It's your story, you tell her." 

Jennifer made herself comfortable on the couch in such a way that I was 
kneeling as much in front of her as my master. "We haven't see each other 
since that little time together in the cage," she said. "But I guess you 
remember I was working out my time with Tom, who had purchased me for a 
month, and a bonus of so much per stroke. It worked fine. Tom is a very 
honorable man." 

Jennifer was cute and very sure of herself. I realized she had been Tom's 
prisoner for a month and they must have become close enough to reach some 
type of a rapport. I was jealous! I didn't trust their ease way with each 
other. 

"I would have thought you would be scared to visit in case Tom tied you up 
and plumped you back in the cage," I suggested uncertainly. 

"I'm not nervous. Like I said, Tom's an honorable man." 

It now occurred to me I owned this girl a lot. It was not Jennifer's fault 
that going to the police in her effort to help had gotten me in deeper 
trouble. I now expressed the thanks I should have said before. But as I 
poured out gratitude I was only too aware that Jennifer was free and clothed 
while I was naked and chained. There was a gulf a mile wide between us. 

"The reason I'm here is because I want to sell myself again." Jennifer 
shrugged. "I know it's ridiculous, but I belong to a family that's got more 
troubles than you can shake a stick at and I need a lot of money to bail 
them out. I'm going to ask Tom to make me his slavegirl again for a month or 
two. Or as long as he likes. I know he gets you free. Angelique, and I cost 
him a lot of money but I hope you two won't mind." 

"I'm a slavegirl and I'm not allowed opinions," I said unhappily. 

She turned to Tom. "How about you ... Master?" Her voice was loaded with 
mischief. 

"I'm losing Angelique, so why not. I can afford you." Tom was enjoying the 
interplay between two females. "Owning Angelique for a month isn't all that 
important, I stole her." 

"I don't see why you'd let her go, why don't you keep her?" Jennifer smiled 
at me. "She certainly can't get loose and run away." 

"She and I made a deal. Forget it." 

"I don't think she wants to share you with me." 

"That's too bad. I can easily whip her into thinking it's a good idea. And 
that's free, too." 

I was really burned up. I had never felt more helpless and scared. I knew 
myself the classic girl slave who must listen in silence while her owner 
carelessly discusses disposal of her body. This girl could interest a man 
like Tom and I didn't like that. 

"How would it be you come the day after I set Angelique free?" 

I longed to shout no at them but I was a most bitterly a slave and kept 
silent. 

"That would be nice," Jennifer said. "But the trouble is I have to have 
money right quick and plenty of it." She allowed the words to hang for a 
moment. "The fact is I've fixed things so I can take off my clothes and 
offer my wrists right now." 

Tom laughed delightedly. "Aren't you pushing things too hard?" he inquired. 

"Not if you knew the story behind my need." Jennifer turned from Tom to me. 
"We shared a cage for a little while before and we can do it again. Please, 
darling, don't be jealous." 

"You really are pushing your luck, Jennifer, my sweet," Tom said. "I think I 
should test the sincerity of what you've just offered. How about you pay an 
entry fee of fifty strokes without reward?" 

Jennifer was stricken in shock. So was I! Fifty strokes was a terrible 
punishment, more than I had ever to endure. Unless he was joking, Tom was 
being terribly cruel so that now sympathy displaced jealousy in my mind. 
While Jennifer was gathering her wits, I said, 'Tom, that's too damned 
awful. Fifty strokes would half kill a girl." 

"How about fifty for you, too, sweetheart. Give you something to share." Tom 
was very much The Master. 

"Please don't punish Angelique for feeling sorry for me," pleaded Jennifer. 
She had suddenly become a small girl. "I've been too pushy, I know I have. 
I'll take the fifty." She visibly swallowed. "No charge." 

There is something about a girl and a whip that changes the girl utterly. It 
was so now with Jennifer. She had become a young girl sentenced to a 
terrible punishment. Even though she was clothed and free, she had become a 
slave. 

"My clothes ... ?" 

"Strip." 

I knew she was beautiful, I had seen her naked before. In this moment of 
anguish she seemed lovelier than before. Clothes slowly went off and were 
neatly folded. Then she knelt submissively the man who had become master to 
us both. I could also feel the power surge in Tom Fredrick's as he gazed 
down upon his new-found prize. He enjoyed the sentenced nakedness for 
several moments before barking, "Get the whip, you know where it is." 

Jennifer said no word but rose swiftly to obey her master's command. I could 
not believe a woman would hurry to fetch the whip for fifty strokes. Fifty! 
Terrible! 

Her need must be great, indeed. I longed to comfort her. But handcuffed 
denied that ability. 

Jennifer had been well trained. She knelt once more, kissed the whip, and 
offered it to the man who would use it to wound her skin. She said nothing 
but was breathless in suspense. Tom turned to me. His voice had changed, 
"What do you think, Angelique?" 

"She's perfect. I've never seen anything more beautiful." 

My tribute was sincere. I knelt in chains but Jennifer knelt in freedom. It 
was a tremendous gesture in giving. She did not move as Tom and I surveyed a 
submission complete in every detail. Tom broke the spell. 

"Okay, Jennifer, you've prove your point. You're home free." 

Jennifer's radiance was no longer brash. Her thanks were sweet and sincere. 
But as her voice fell away to a whisper, Tom turned to me. "Angelique, it's 
strange how things turn out. You wanted to be free and I wanted a slave ... 
and Jennifer's given us the answer." 

"You mean ... ?" 

"Sure. I take those golden chains from you and lock them on Jennifer. We get 
you dressed, we give you money and take you home. You'll be totally free in 
a wonderful world." His voice was almost anxious. "That is what you want?" 

Suddenly that was the last thing I wanted. But there was the kneeling girl 
in need and somewhere beyond was the glorious freedom I'd been longing for. 
Stupidly I heard the voice of a girl named Angelique uttering a lie from a 
fantasy, "Of course, it's what I want. And you're right, Tom, it's worked 
out wonderfully." It took everything I had to keep my voice from breaking. 
"Thank you for everything you've done. I'm very happy." 

I'm sure Tom knew. His voice was still faintly anxious, "You can still 
visit, nothing's changed, Angelique." 

"That's right! I'd love to do that." 

"You can feed Jennifer peanuts through the bars." 

A man and two girls smiled away an awkwardness. "You mean you're giving me 
those lovely gold handcuffs and leg irons? Are you sure?" 

"They're by way of the Sensuality Club," Tom explained. "If you're looking 
at Angelique's belt and collar, they belong to the Sensuality Club, too, but 
you can forget them, they won't come off. Angelique's stuck wearing that 
belt beneath her clothes. She'll have to explain to friends that she's so 
fond of that necklace that she never takes it off." 

It was the way it had always been with vacations, you don't really believe 
in them until you're in the plane then quite suddenly it's true and 
wonderful and gorgeous. Suddenly all three of us were laughing as I was told 
to stand while Tom found the magic bits of metal and gave them the proper 
turns to set me free. I threw my arms around his neck in a way I rarely 
could. Then I hugged Jennifer. Excitement had me in its grip and I was 
suddenly really and truly happy. 

I stood and glowed, still a slave, still awaiting direction. 

Jennifer became shy. She looked at Tom who was holding the golden restraints 
and asked, "Would it seem silly if I wave my arms around and kick my feet 
this one last time?" 

We watched. Jennifer was actually blushing when she turned her back to offer 
her arms. I shared with her shivers as the handcuffs clicked and snapped. 

I had to stamp hard on jealousy as the golden bands, still warm from my 
flesh, encircled Jennifer's ankles and were locked tight. 

In keeping with our mood, Jennifer's giggling suggest I wear her clothes 
seemed appropriate. Everything fitted. Jennifer had come with a handbag, the 
contents of which Tom now dumped into an envelope and sealed. He replaced it 
with a thousand dollars which he said would see me through until the banks 
were open. Jennifer looked at the money in pure envy. 

We gave ourselves no time for the awkwardness of goodbyes. Tom announced he 
and I would ride in the front seat but the newly chained slavegirl would be 
placed in the trunk to let her know where she belonged. Not only did the 
poor girl get the ride but had to stay thus imprisoned as Tom and I 
discovered the hidden spare key to my house. He inspected the place with me. 
The club had kept it in good order but tomorrow I would have to change the 
locks. All I got in the way of a farewell was a quick kiss, my bottom 
patted, plus the verbal reassurance I should call him any time I had a 
problem, and visit whenever I had the urge. Goodness knows, it is a pretty 
good deal for a girl. But as I watched him depart, it was as though I stood 
in the loneliness of space. 

My first act in freedom was to take off Jennifer's clothes. This was not 
because they were Jennifer's but because I had been naked so long I found 
clothes bothersome and uncomfortable. The clothes went safely into a drawer. 

Nothing ever turns out the way we think. In those first months of my 
enslavement to the Sensuality Club I had thought of this moment almost every 
waking hour. But now in freedom I felt let down and knew in honest it was 
because of Jennifer and Tom. Jennifer could not shed the golden chains as I 
had shed her clothes. I did not see her new enslavement as her being Tom's 
possession, I saw it as Jennifer possessing Tom. I knew it was silly so I 
went upstairs and found some of my clothes were they had been left. I 
dressed so I could walk to the corner store for food. It was evening before 
the phone rang. It was Avis and I felt so damned good at hearing the voice 
of a girl with whom I had shared love and who's whip had marked my skin, I 
am sure I sounded overly thankful. Especially when I remembered her seat was 
probably purple and her breasts scarlet from Tom Fredrick's whip. What she 
had to say only heightened my thankfulness. 

"I know you're back home, darling. That Fredrick's guy isn't as omnipotent 
as he thinks. I'll bet you're lonely." 

"Gosh, how did you know!" 

The silvery laugh was an oasis in a desert. "You're forgetting how you spent 
the last fourteen months, darling. That was habit forming." 

"Thank you, but I don't want to be chained again." 

"That wasn't why I called. And the club doesn't know I'm calling. Would you 
like me to come and spend this first night with you? It's sort of an 
occasion." 

I wanted Avis so bad. Tom was off to one side and something else again. I 
wanted to kiss her wounds and let her play with me. But I could not forget 
the club. "And in the morning I'd wake up chained hand and foot and a slave 
to the Sensuality Club again." I hoped I didn't sound too bitter. 

Once more the silvery amusement. "You have to think that way, sweetheart. 
But, honest, the club doesn't know a thing about my calling you. But there's 
things we have to talk about and I want you very much. Do you want me after 
that awful man?" 

"Yes." 

"I'll come right over. Just so you can sleep easily I'll bring a pair of 
handcuffs and the key so you can make me helpless for the night. That way 
you'll be safe. I'm coming because I think it would be fun." 

"Come on over," I said without a second thought. 

Sure, I should have known better but maybe I'm a natural born slavegirl and 
chains are my destiny. But when Avis and I danced up the stairway, we 
weren't thinking of anything except each other. It wasn't until later when 
we were sharing coffee in my kitchen that Avis insisted, "Darling, I think 
you've forgotten that I want you to be safe all night." She fetched her bag 
and removed a pair of handcuffs. "Don't be shy, do it!" 

So much in so little time! Yesterday I had been owned and kept in chains by 
a man. Today I had the chance to chain a girl who had been my mistress. 
Things were changing too fast. The handcuffs were cold to my touch as I 
picked them up and walked behind Avis. She put her hands behind her back 
without a word. The metal clicked shut and she was my prisoner. Feeling 
strange emotions, I grabbed a handful of her hair and led her to the 
bedroom. 

We laughed later but for a while there was only the sounds of lovemaking as 
I lay gloriously free upon silk sheets and my own little slavegirl serviced 
me! Wonderful! 

We slept late. When I woke up my wrists were handcuffed behind my back. Avis 
was beside me in the bed, looking as innocent as all get out. I had to 
suppose she had gotten up during the night and gotten the key where I had 
hidden it. Or had brought with her a second key. But I was now her prisoner 
instead of she being mind. Tears filled my eyes. 

I had trusted Avis and now she would return me to slavery. Without hands I 
dried my tears upon the pillow and woke her up. 

"Hello, Angelique, darling. When you sleep you really sleep. Are you mad?" 

"I'm mad and hurt." I was sitting up to gaze down at the beautiful woman in 
my bed. "I suppose this means chains and the whip and all the rest of the 
Sensuality Club?" I gave a short and bitter laugh. "Gosh, what an idiot I 
was!" 

"Helpless?" 

"Of course I'm helpless. I'm surprised you haven't locked leg irons on my 
ankles." 

"I did, darling, you haven't noticed!" 

It was true! I now felt the secure grip of ironed ankles. Avis had me for 
sure. The Sensuality Club would be laughing their heads off. I wanted to 
scream. 

"I'll bet you hate me, sweetheart?" 

"I could never hate you but I'm terribly disappointed." 

"And why shouldn't you, darling," Avis felt under her pillow and found the 
keys. "Lay on your tummy and I'll do all the work." 

"But why? I don't understand!" 

"To teach you a lesson, Angelique, my pet. You're a blonde innocent waiting 
for disaster." The keys clicked and the handcuffs fell off. Then the leg 
irons. 

I sat up, once more totally free. I had my hands, I had my feet. I looked 
down at the girl who's prisoner I had been to demand, "But why! Tell me 
why?" 

"I've just told you. Here, just to prove I love you, darling, hold on a 
minute." I watched while Avis rose up from the bed, turned her back, and 
offered me her wrists. "There you are, my beloved Angelique. Do you need any 
other proof that I love you?" 

In a flood of thankfulness I pushed Avis back down and fell upon her. The 
handcuffs were forgotten as two females engaged in lovemaking of a very 
passionate and wild nature. When we lay side by side, sweating and panting 
and knowing the world was good, Avis said dreamily, "I still want you to 
handcuff my wrists behind my back." 

"We can do that next time," I informed. "What am I saying! Avis, darling, 
I'm not going to handcuff you now or ever!" 

"Yes you are. It's an experience we both need. It think the cuffs are 
somewhere in this bed." 

"That's a good place for them. Forget them. I won't turn a girl into a slave 
like I was." 

"You mustn't think that way, Angelique. This is something I really want. 
You'll think it's crazy but I used to love watching you move in the 
handcuffs and leg irons and twist your hands against the cuffs when you 
though no one was looking. And when you made love you were so damned cute. 
Please." 

We searched the bed and I did to Avis what had been done so often to me. The 
steel clicked and she was a prisoner, just as I had been. I suddenly realize 
how right Avis was. This was going to be a glorious thrill. "Too tight, 
darling?" I inquired. 

"They don't hurt so I guess they're not too tight." Her voice was 
breathless. 

We bathed and I did all the things that had been done for me. I made coffee 
and helped her drink. It was wonderful and my mind kept repeating over and 
over, "She's mine, she's mine, she's mine ... ." 

After breakfast I put the leg irons on Avis and watched her practice walking 
the tiny steps allowed her. It was then I realized the changed demeanor of a 
girl confined. She was quickly becoming a slavegirl, submissive, obedient, 
surrendering her will to that of another. When I helped her back up after 
each fall, we shared the laughter of female happiness. 

During a pause in which Avis stood there, smiling, hands behind her back, 
she made a laughing guess, "I'll bet I know what you're thinking, darling. 
You're wondering if you should keep me for an hour or a day. Or perhaps a 
week or maybe forever. Right?" 

"Of course it's right! What else would I be thinking?" 

"How long is my sentence?" 

"How long do you want it to be?" 

Avis's eyes were shining in content. "This is the nicest feeling I've ever 
known. I want to belong to you, and I want you to compel me to do all the 
things I made you do. I want you to whip me whenever you feel like it. Will 
you do that, Angelique?" 

"Of course I will." Life was opening to fresh vista of delight. But then 
suddenly I saw the fatal flaw. "But what about the Sensuality Club? They'll 
never let us get away with it!" 

Avis twisted in her steel bonds as if it gave her pleasure. But the lovely 
eyes were slowly clouded in thought. "Oh, shit! I forgot the club and the 
club is the most important thing I had to tell you about. Darling, do you 
realize they are already making plans to repossess you? I was going to tell 
you to pack up and we could go far away." She laughed. "But now look at us! 
If the club walked in on us right now, they'd take us both, and they'd 
punish us both just like they're punishing Dorothy Dawson right now." 

"They wouldn't dare!" 

"Yes they would. And they will. Angelique, darling, surely by now you 
realize how easy it is to kidnap any girl. Look, Angelique, keep me your 
prisoner until tomorrow morning. It's something I've wanted for so long. 
Tomorrow set me free and I'll go back to the club, tell them I've visited 
you and see if I can't talk them into giving you complete freedom. But the 
way things are, they consider you a runaway slave. Your time with Tom 
Fredrick's because they believe when he let you lose you should have gone 
straight to them, instead of coming home. It's crazy but they figure you 
should have offered them your wrists and asked to resume your interrupted 
life sentence. You know the rules." 

"That's crazy, no girl would do it." 

"Yes they would. Look at me right now. If something could be worked out, I 
want you to keep me as your personal property for always. And you can't tell 
me you didn't enjoy half of your own slavery." 

"Well ... yes, I suppose that's true." I was struck by a sudden thought. 
"Avis, the club didn't send you here to talk me into going back, did they? I 
mean surrendering without a struggle? Going back to be punished?" 

"No. It was my idea. I suppose if I walked back with you, everyone would be 
overjoyed. Feeling the way I do right now, I should go back and offer myself 
in your place. In return for your freedom. Am I crazy?" 

"Yes you are. I know how you feel but the club wouldn't do it. They don't 
want willing victims, they want girl who will always be trying to escape. 
Then they've got a justifiable excuse for keeping her chained and helpless. 
Supposing I do as you and go to some distant place, where would you suggest? 
Would you come too?" 

"Sure I would go, so long as you promised to keep me captive. How about 
Spain?" 

I was suddenly excited, seeing visions while I watched Avis twist her wrists 
against the handcuffs. I went to her handbag and found the other pair I knew 
she had. "I don't see why should have all the fun," I said laughingly as I 
turned my back and closed metal around each wrist. "How's that, darling? Now 
we're both in the same boat!" 

With a tremendous erotic thankfulness for having Avis at my house, I added, 
"I'm so glad you came. Oh, darling, this is so much fun!" 

It was right there that Debbie walked in. 

 Chapter 9 Mistresses 

Debbie laughed delightedly at our shock. "You forget, Angelique, my sweet, 
the club had the keys to your house. When we got the news about Tom 
Fredrick's and you, I figured you'd head here." She looked directly at Avis. 
"I figured on you being here, too, but not in that condition. Aren't you 
ashamed of yourself?" 

With Debbie things had to be bad. And, damn her, she was right in picking up 
my instinctive glance and motion towards Avis's handbag. She beat me to it 
easily and pocketed the keys. 

"You won't be needing these, darlings, they'll be safe with me and so will 
you." Her tone was teasing as she turned to Avis. "I always figured you for 
a submissive, darling. But I never expected anything like this. Can't get 
free, can you?" 

I knew myself condemned. But Avis, as a much respected member of the 
Sensuality Club, might be treated differently. 

"I suppose you've guessed what I'm going to do to you," said Debbie, 
shattering all remaining hope within me. "I'm taking you both back to the 
club to stand trial. Angelique, darling, you're an escaped slave so you know 
what you're going to get. And you. Avis, you really should have known better 
than to sneak over her and use the club's slavegirl to play pretty games. In 
your case, Avis, I'm going to push hard at your trial for the same twelve 
month sentence we give Dorothy. Dorothy is working out remarkable well and 
so will you. 

"There's one thing you can both expect when it comes my turn to own you and 
that's a damned good thrashing." 

"Debbie, you can't!" Avis gasped. "We haven't hurt anyone. Stop looking so 
stern and let us loose. Then all three of us can go for lunch. Let's have 
fun." 

"Nice try but you're dreaming. You both know what I'm going to do with you. 
All I'm wondering is if I should torture you just a little while I have you 
and before I take you home. You wouldn't mind, would you?" 

"Yes, we would! Don't be a little beasts, Debbie. You know my standing in 
the club is every bit as good as yours and they'll listen to everything I 
tell them. I know that Angelique is a runaway slave, but it wouldn't hurt 
you to let her go. Please?" 

"That fellow member bit is a joke. Don't you realize. Avis, that you've let 
us all down by allowing yourself to be chained the way you are. Good gosh, 
if every member was a screwy as you, we wouldn't have a club. I'm taking you 
back to stand trial and that's the end of it." 

I could have screamed in frustration. Fate was being cruel beyond anything 
we deserved. If Debbie had come an hour earlier, I could have coped with 
her. In a tussle I might easily have gotten the best of her. But to be 
delivered because I had put the cuffs on myself was bitter gall. Avis and I 
watched our visitor open her handbag. 

It was cord, thin cord that I didn't like. I leaped and aimed a kick but a 
girl with hands fastened behind her back does nothing right. It was a poor 
sort of kick which resulted with Debbie grabbing my ankles and throwing me 
to the floor. Suddenly she was sitting on my back. I sobbed as my bare 
elbows were circled in a noose of thin cord. It drew tighter and tighter 
until I cried in pain. 

"There's no need for that, Debbie. It hurts something awful. Please don't do 
that." 

I might have as well saved my breath. When my elbows were firmly joined, 
Debbie unlocked my handcuffs, knowing that I was still helpless. She 
repeated the process on my wrists. I was in pain and shamefully willing to 
obey. I managed to kneel and watch poor Avis get the same treatment. The 
thin cord made dug deep into her flesh and I had to wonder if it was just as 
deeply embedded in my arms. Soon the handcuffs made a pile on the floor and 
we two girls were bound by small amounts of thin, hard cord. 

"And now, just to stop you being silly while I get the car ... ." Debbie was 
loving every minute of it. A handcuff locked to the foot of the bed with the 
other cuff locked to Avis's ankle held her prisoner. My ankle was also so 
secured and we were both going nowhere. 

Along, Avis and I stared in dismay. "She means it, she's going to do what 
she said," Avis moaned. "Oh, Angelique, what have I got you into." 

"It's not your fault, darling. She probably expected to catch me alone and 
overpower me. Debbie may do what she says but you've enough influence with 
the club to over ride her. I know I'm sunk because I'm a runaway slave. But 
Debbie could get herself into trouble for treating you this way. Golly, does 
this cord ever hurt!" 

I was suddenly panic-stricken. Debbie would be back at any moment and 
between me and a lifetime of enslavement was only some thin cord. 
Desperately I backed against Avis's corded arms and painfully made an 
attempt against the tight cords. But all I achieved was hurt fingers. When 
Debbie tried to do the same for me, she was equally defeated. It was at that 
point Debbie returned to march us downstairs to the car. As we stood by the 
car with its trunk lid open invitingly, she locked our ankles together, my 
right to Avis's left, with the leg irons. Then she gagged us with a ball gag 
taken from the trunk. The ball was huge and filled my mouth, forcing the jaw 
wide open and pushing my tongue down. She pulled the strap holding the ball 
very tight. 

"You don't need to gag us, Debbie," protested Avis as my gag was going on. 
But she was quickly silenced and the both of us shoved into the trunk with 
little care given to our comfort. 

The ride took little over an hour. It only seemed like years. In the 
darkness, surrounded by warmth and car sounds, we were pressed face to face 
and body to body. As our gagged faces pressed and our breasts merged. I 
though how exciting this could have been if it weren't for the terribly 
tight cord hurting out arms. Even so, I felt my body responding to the touch 
of Avis's body. And perhaps the fear too. Soon we were both thrusting our 
hips towards each other in a hopeless imitation of lust. 

It was Dorothy Dawson's home we saw when we were taken out of that dark 
trunk. That seemed a good choice for our confinement and trial. There was 
the room with the stage, and a dungeon in the basement. There was even a 
cage. We were escorted to that cage by eager girls who had been our friends. 
There our cords were cut off. Thankfully the gags were left in our mouths to 
silence the cries that greeted returning circulation in our arms. 

When they left us, only a leg-iron joined our ankles, we were free 
otherwise, an unusual condition for me. But then it was unusual to be 
chained to another girl. 

We hugged each other and cried on each other. We had a terrible need of each 
other. Soon our lips met and we completed the lovemaking we had only been 
able to start in the trunk. 

The Sensuality Club always did things right. They left Avis and I to commune 
unhappily in the cell throughout the night, no doubt to make us properly 
aware of the size of our sins. The next day the entire membership was 
present, all agog with the pleasurable knowledge of being completely right 
and in good standing while two of the sisters stood before them in shame of 
nakedness and with wrists securely handcuffed behind their backs. It was 
something I had done before but for Avis it was new. Of the slavegirls 
Connie and Dorothy there was no sign. 

The girls elected to provide a defense for Avis and I did a far better job 
than I would have expected. The whole affair almost sounded like a court 
with their arguments back and forth and motions. The main argument in Avis's 
favor was that her actions were merely what was to be expected from a girl 
interested in finding out what the slavegirl's life was like. 

Then sentence was pronounced. Avis was to serve only three months of 
slavegirl service, and to receive ten strokes across her back. The Court 
visibly rubbed its hands in satisfaction at a job well done. 

The advocates had a more difficult time with me. No one was quite sure to 
what degree I had welcomed my kidnapping by Tom Fredrick's. I might have 
been innocent for a kidnapped girl has to go along with her captor and can't 
make any decisions. On the other hand, there remained the concrete fact that 
when released I had failed to contact the club. My behavior was considered 
and debated until a compromise was developed by which I was to receive not 
fifty strokes but twenty with the same whip as would mark Avis. I would then 
endure three days of what The Court described as "rigorous bondage." Having 
thus endured the pains of the club's displeasure, I would then be returned 
to my status as the Sensuality Club's first and favorite slavegirl. Back 
went I to the rotation of ownership. 

I was dearly loved and must never be allowed another chance to either escape 
or be kidnapped. 

Avis and I were close to tears as we stood there on the platform for 
everyone to see. We were then locked in the cell below to await the main 
event of out being publicly whipped. Once more the clang of the closing bars 
told us all too clearly what we had become. 

"I've never been whipped." Avis looked at me doubtfully. "Is it very 
painful?" 

"Not the way you used to whip me. But the way they're going to whip us is 
going to be terrible, I just know it. The girls think they're being kind by 
giving you only ten and me twenty, but they haven't been whipped either so 
they don't know what they're doing. 

"But, Angelique darling, you're sentenced to twenty." 

"I'll handle it. If they don't gag me, I'll scream towards the end. That 
will help." 

"It just doesn't seem possible that you and I can be standing like this and 
talking but in a little while we'll be tied up someway and whipped on our 
bare skin. It just can't happen." 

"It will happen. Avis. They club's committed itself. But that three month 
sentence for you proves how high you stand in their regard. I bet every girl 
who gets possession of you will be kind. You probably won't be whipped again 
after today. Gosh, I wish Tom Fredrick's would get us both out of this." 

"He wouldn't stand a chance against the whole club. Oh, Angelique!" 

We were relieved of our leg irons and led back upon the stage, which was not 
equipped with a pair of trapeze bars with ropes. There were also some iron 
rings in the floor I didn't recall. We were surrounded by eager, helpful 
girls. We dared not struggled. Within minutes the ankles of both of us were 
tight strapped to enable out feet to be spread wide apart and tied to rings. 
We were quite helpless and it was now safe for them to free our hands and 
invite us to place our wrists in the straps at each end of the trapeze bar 
that we might watch them tightly buckled. Then they rose up before our eyes 
until our nudities stood conveniently stretched, our arms up high and our 
legs spread wide. 

I think there can be no greater loneliness than that which grips a 
tight-bound maiden awaiting to be whipped. There were girls all around me 
but they were part of the force that worked against us and would cause us 
much pain. Avis and I dared not speak to each other even though we were not 
gagged, a sign I took to mean the audience preferred to hear us scream. 

I have previously tried to tell of being whipped but there are no proper 
words by which a girl can convey the incredible explosion of pain as the 
thong impacts with your skin. Or of the burning scold it imparts. The first 
time the whip cut across my bare shoulders I screamed and flung myself 
against my bonds in an expression more of outrage than of pain. For every 
one stroke Avis received, twice the lash descended upon my skin. 

Everything was well in hand at the Sensuality Club. 

My courage cannot cope with pain. A pinched nipple will reduce me to utter 
submission. The whip takes me a step beyond into mindless agony. We dance a 
dance of pain. Avis and I, as the whip performs outrages against our bodies. 
Our screams echoed and should have pleased the membership. It was easy to 
sense the undercurrent of erotic excitement in the crowd watching. Perhaps 
they wondered who would be the ones to possess Avis and myself after our 
punishment had ended. Avis and I had little to look forward to. I am certain 
that right then Avis's three month sentence stretched out within her mind to 
infinity. We were a couple of damned unhappy girls. 

Several of the members had taken turns in using the whip but all had made 
their strokes hard. Not one of the played favorites. The club had said me 
must be punished and punished we most certainly were. 

We hung limply after the last stroke, panting and praying that it was really 
over. The club was pleased with us and gave us a round of applause as we 
were once more ironed at wrists and ankle. In the cell below, we frictioned 
breast to breast and dried tears in each other's hair. In the morning my 
darling Avis was assigned, for her first week of slavery, to Isabel Travis, 
and I was given over to the first of my days of "rigorous bondage." 

We were given no chance to say goodbye. 

Bondage comes in all types. The club explained that they could easily make 
me stand for a day with my hands tied above my head with body exposed for 
all to see. It was felt that for a slave as experienced as I, this was far 
too easy. Instead I was suspended by a single wrist while my other hand was 
bound tight to the opposite ankle, forcing me to stand on one foot. It was a 
beastly, rotten punishment on top of being whipped and I told them so. But 
they explained how kind they had been to sentence me to only twenty strokes 
when I undoubtedly deserved fifty. I should be grateful, they said, to be 
standing in this painful and contorted condition for only a single day. I 
will not dwell on that other to say that I would have preferred to be 
whipped again rather than this punishment. The club was clever in its 
punishments and I was getting the full measure to teach a runaway slavegirl 
not to run away again. Isabel Travis led Avis from my sight by a rope leash. 
This was day one. 

Day two was an even more severe isolation of a maiden in distress. It was 
not the conventional understand of "the horse", there was no narrow edge on 
which I had to sit. Instead there was a smooth, round pole suspended between 
two trestles. I was invited to sit upon that pole while my wrists were bound 
tight behind my back and raised up high. Each ankle was solid strapped and 
drawn out to either side. I was held securely upon my perch. When this was 
done the girls assured me it could be much worse and went away. In solitude 
and unable to move I disagreed with their verdict. To be worse than this 
would have called for red-hot irons. As I viewed my day ahead, I wept. 

Numbness helps. After a while my pussy gave up and resigned itself to bear 
my weight. The same was true of tied wrists and strapped ankles. Despite the 
assurance of a big, smooth pole, I knew myself subject to the ancient 
"Horse". 

I have visitors. They laughed or mocked or offered sympathy according to 
their mood. But when they went away I was still astride that beastly pole. I 
had not been gagged and thus was free to plead. I am ashamed to speak of the 
pleadings and promises I gave. But laughter was the only reply. When evening 
came I was released and chained once more in the cell. But now I was alone, 
poor, dear Avis was already in service to a mistress who might be cruel or 
kind, I did not know. All I knew was that tomorrow would be another torture. 

The girls loved to play with my breasts and to rub my pussy with skillful 
fingers. When my breath came heavily as I grew excited, they laughed and 
stopped touching my heated body. I was told to be a good girl and behave 
myself. My hands were then tied behind my back and I was raised with one 
ankle securely tied and tethered from above to spend my day upon the stone 
supported only by my shoulders and one ankle as the rest of me hung 
suspended and burned from the noose around my ankle. The girls had no name 
for it and told me cheerful it was no more than a discomfort by which I 
would come to a repentance of my sins against the Sensuality Club. I damned 
them to hell. But only in my mind. Silence if best for a slavegirl. 

When I was visited, I bore, equally mute, the playful teasing of my pussy so 
well on display for such attentions. Some even used lips upon my breasts and 
pussy. But none would allow me to get too close to satisfaction. It was a 
game they found must amusing. The hell of it was the girls were right. Long 
before my punishment was finished I felt only regret and sorrow over having 
ever thought of escape in the first place. I forgot was guilty of my sins 
but knew only determination not to sin again. I even viewed the slavery I 
would experience all my life as a relief, much to be desired. 

When I was released I would willing have knelt and kissed the feet of those 
who set me free. Thus is a maiden conditioned to submission. 

I might have known it would be Debbie. The club regretted the time it would 
take to once more equip me with golden handcuffs and golden leg irons, so I 
was delivered to my new mistress with a plain irons on ankles and wrists, 
police issue. I was indeed back at square one. 

Debbie was delighted. She and I both knew I had been given to her for a week 
because of the service she had performed for the club. When I was formally 
handed over to her, I was fearful of how she would keep me under control 
during transport. But Debbie, inconsistently, insisted I was fine with just 
handcuffs and leg irons, and should sit beside her in the car. I was driven 
thus to the place where I expected the thrashing Debbie had promised. Debbie 
owned me for seven days and could mark my skin with whatever marks and pain 
she pleased. 

We spoke of nothing important during the ride. 

I was not thrashed. No doubt the club had given Debbie a warning as to the 
proper treatment of slavegirls. Debbie, while obviously thrilled by having 
me all to herself, appeased her natural instincts by nothing more than 
subjecting me to a succession of nude discomforts inflicted by chain and 
cord in a continual progress of punishment. She was constantly aroused into 
a hot need I was compelled to satisfy as she arranged her nakedness upon me 
in such a manner as to place her sex in contact with my lips. Fortunately I 
had been well trained and passed these tests with flying colors. The 
punishments she had promised should I fail in that task were too terrible to 
tell. As a sign of her authority, she kept me chained in her bed each night 
only long enough to satisfy her need before binding me tight to a post 
downstairs for the hours of darkness. After my release each morning, Debbie 
cuffed my hands behind my back and brought me up for breakfast. 

Gossip of the club was not encouraging. Connie was giving satisfaction as a 
slave. But Dorothy Dawson was constantly being whipped for misbehavior. 
Debbie promised a meeting in which I could view the marks on Dorothy's skin. 
Debbie told me Dorothy's skin was far more vividly stripped than mine. And 
she was kept tight bound instead of loosely chained because cords were far 
more painful. I knew exactly what she meant. 

The worst thing Debbie did to me was suspend me by bound wrists throughout 
an entire day. There was nothing new that I had not suffered previously. But 
even so, it was still bloody to endure. My wrists were crossed and tightly 
bound before me and a rope passed from them to an overhead pulley. I was 
lifted from the ground until I was nearer the ceiling than the floor. I hung 
thus nakedly and did all the usual pleading and moaning. 

When Debbie came to visit, which she did frequently, she amused herself by 
chatting in a friendly manner and forcing me to conversation, all the while 
using a pair of tweezers to slowly pluck my pubic hairs. Dear Debbie made 
sure her slavegirl's day was never dull. 

By the end of the seven days I was with Debbie, I was trained to a quivering 
submission in which I would fall to my knees and perform whatever function 
she desired without complain. I spent a lot of time with my mouth up between 
her thighs. I was never free, never, never, never! 

During this first week of my return to captivity I thought a lot about Tom 
Fredrick's and cursed my indecision in accepting freedom I knew now I did 
not desire. But Jennifer had taken my play and that was that! I imagined the 
two of them as lovers as I was whipped or strictly bound and hurting. 

At the end of my seven days I might have given a tremendous sigh of relief 
had I not envisioned the months and years ahead in which I would forever be 
chained or bound. I tried not to think of the whip too much. 

Natalie Crosby had possessed me twice during the previous year and I always 
thought of her as the dark-eyed beauty with the cone-shaped breasts. The 
line "a lean and hungry look" came to mind for her. She was a very intense 
woman. She had frankly admitted to the desire to whip me steadily while she 
owned me and it was only the club which prevented her from doing exactly 
that. Natalie achieved a comprise by whipping me seldom but hard and upon 
those portions of myself I desired least. Natalie was intensely interested 
pain, no question about that. Natalie was highly intelligent and when not 
punishing me, a good companion. Of the twenty-five she was not the worst nor 
the best. 

While my two mistresses sat on the couch and sipped tea as they discussed my 
merits and shortcomings, I was told to stand meekly before them in the 
security of the Sensuality Club's standard restraints, handcuffs and leg 
irons. I had to listen to an exchange of ideas and opinions designed less to 
inform each other than to humiliate me. I had gone this route before and 
simply waited it out in meek submission which I hoped would earn me a 
comfortable seat in the car instead of being tied up in the trunk. 

Must have worked because I was allowed to sit beside my new owner as we sped 
off in her Mercedes. With her usual efficiency, Natalie had installed snaps 
where they conveniently hooked onto the gorgeous belt still snug around my 
middle and the chain of my leg irons on the floor. We both knew these 
additional marks of captivity redundant. 

Helpless, I sat awaiting the pleasure of my new mistress. Natalie could be 
relied upon for conversation. "Can you guess the first thing I'm going to do 
to you, Angelique, my pet," she inquired in a voice hushed by excitement. "I 
adore that pretty little pussy of yours so I'm going to whip it with a 
lovely new whip. I'm going to call it my "Pussy Punisher," and I'll tie you 
so you can watch it happen. I have to do this first thing because I'm simply 
raging with lust. It's your own fault, dear, for having such a gorgeous 
little cat." 

What does a girl say to that! I rejected a polite thank you, and complaint 
was out of the questions. I compromised with a trace of bitterness, "I'm so 
glad I can make you happy, Natalie. I expect I'm lucky." 

"Was that sarcasm, darling?" 

"No, really! It seemed the sensible thing to say." 

"That looks after our first hour, Angelique, my sweet. Guess what else I've 
got waiting." 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Don't be negative, it's a man!" 

"Oh, not that again! Natalie, I don't want to be raped again. The club 
doesn't approve of men." 

"I suspect you were not that picky about a guy named Tom Fredrick's." 

"I was lucky with Tom. I don't want to talk about it." 

"I can easily make you ... ." 

"I know you can, Natalie. If you hurt me enough I'll do or say anything you 
wish. Please don't." 

"I'm not thinking of a casual encounter, Angelique. Anyway, this guy wants 
to rent you from me for most of the term of my ownership. He offers a really 
staggering amount of money which, seriously, I can use. How would you like 
to be rented out?" 

"I wouldn't. As far as I'm concerned, I belong to you and I'll try to please 
you. But the club wouldn't want you renting me out." 

"He's nice." 

"Okay, then, lock me in the cell or tie me to a tree while you and he have 
fun in bed." 

"Angelique, my dear, that sounds like rebellion. And, anyway, no slavegirl 
should talk to her mistress like that. Shall I add five strokes to your 
pussy or would you prefer them somewhere else?" 

"I'm sorry. Honest, I'm sorry. But after being owned by girls for so long 
that the idea of a man ... well, it's disgusting." 

"You found Tom Fredrick's disgusting?" 

"No, I didn't. But I told you I didn't want to talk about Tom. If that gets 
me whipped, then so be it. In any case, Tom's got himself another girl. 
She's a nice girl and very much into the scene. In fact, she's right now 
wearing those gold handcuffs and leg irons the club gave me." 

"Jealous?" 

"Yes, I am. If I could go back to Tom, I would. In fact, why don't you sell 
me to Tom, he's got lots of money?" 

I could tell Natalie was interested. "I'll think about it, Angelique," she 
said soberly. "Actually I'm a fool to part with you, you're so delicious. 
But the way men pay for girls! I've never realized how much men value tits 
and pussies. If it wasn't for the club I could make a fortune out of you." 

"Then why don't you? Why don't you resign from the Sensuality Club and take 
me with you. If you took me fastened the way I am, there wouldn't be a thing 
I could do about it." 

"Nice try, Angelique! If you keep on you'll have me doing a twelve month 
stretch, and same as Dorothy Dawson." Once more her eyes searched my 
nakedness. "It's an idea and it's worth thinking about. Angelique, darling, 
your price is going up by the minute." 

I wondered what I had started. Or if I had started anything. Aware of the 
punishment I had already earned, I dared not risk another by asking 
questions. Natalie would do whatever Natalie liked, and I'd find out about 
it soon enough. I wished I had not let loose the information about the 
golden shackles the club had given me. I missed them myself for, if a girl 
must be chained, it feels good to wear gold. I wished I still wore those 
chains in slavery to the only man I ever called Master. But that was a 
pretty dream-I would never, never escape from the Sensuality Club. 

Natalie always knew what she wanted. Safe in her garage I was unchained from 
the car. I was instantly led to what I remembered as the room of punishment. 
My pussy crinkled in terror. 

"I'm going to have to remove your leg irons. You're not going to do 
something stupid, are you?" 

"I can't do anything with my hands behind me. Go ahead." 

Natalie glared at me. Had I been sarcastic? 

"You're a sweetheart and I'm absolutely ashamed of what I'm going to do to 
you. But I have to do it or I'll absolutely explode with lust. I'm strapping 
leather bands around your ankles, in case you haven't noticed." 

"I noticed." I was looking down to watch the black leather bands buckled 
tight into my skin. They would simply hold me for punishment. When she told 
me to lay on my back on the rug, I obeyed without question. I was a 
slavegirl about to be punished for her mistress' pleasure. Unable to contain 
my fear, I said, "Please don't hurt me too much. Should I scream or do you 
want me to keep quiet?" 

"Scream. I want to share your pain. Does that sound silly?" 

I was laying on handcuffed arms as my legs were hoisted upward between two 
poles. I could guess the rest, it was elementary. The cuffs were snapped to 
a ring in the pole such that my bottom was off the floor and exposed my 
crotch totally. She had been right, I would be able to see every blow upon 
my naked pussy. 

"Lovely position, isn't it, dear?" 

I didn't answer. My legs formed a big "V", a shape almost designed to guide 
the whip downward towards my exposed sex. I knew I would jerk about and cry 
out. I clenched my teeth. 

Natalie's whipping of my pussy was not really a major event but simply one 
more step in the pathway of pain I must walk the rest of my life. I slave 
must expect the whip even though it lay unused for days at a time. Natalie 
had said she was doing this to get it out of my system. Perhaps this 
whipping of my pussy would be a prelude to something nicer. I heard 
Natalie's voice, "Dead center, darling." 

I promised myself not to look but somehow I couldn't pull my eyes away that 
tender part of me. Natalie held a lean, wicked whip. I watched the sweep of 
Natalie's arm and could even see the leather coming down. I did not scream, 
I simply went crazy with heaves and twisting as the world exploded into 
red-hot pain. It was bitter, bitter pain. The scream that should have come 
stuck in my throat. 

"Natalie! Oh, my god, Natalie, please! Not again! You're killing me!" 

"Nonsense, dear," was her reply. And another harsh stroke to make me explode 
into pain. 

"Tell me how they hurt, Angelique dear, I'm curious." 

I had to make it good. Suddenly words of bum and scold and scorch tumbled 
out of me. And of fear. I was suddenly very much afraid of what would happen 
if the tip of the whip would land squarely on my clit. Thus far it had 
landed to either side. 

Natalie listened with attention and said she supposed it wasn't all that 
bad. She would not give me another stroke and maybe I could describe the 
sensations better. 

The thong was thin. But it landed directly on that most sensitive part of my 
being. Waves of pain washed over me, nearly causing to blackout. But such 
mercy did not come and I gasped and shook with spasms. I vaguely remember 
thrusting my hips wildly up in the air just after the stroke. 

I told Natalie that she was cutting me in two. And I screamed. All I wanted 
was to put to the fire now burning in my sex. Looking up at my mistress' 
lovely features I knew Natalie was enjoying herself. 

"I'll try and cut one of your thighs this time." The voice held love but the 
stroke was bitter pain. "I wish you could see the view I see, Angelique 
dear. You're starting to get very red. A few more strokes and there'll be 
purple. This is gorgeous." 

Short of using a mirror this was the only position I could think of that 
allowed a girl to watch her pussy being whipped. Stroke followed stroke and 
I paid full vocal tribute to them all. I pleaded, screamed and moaned. I 
would have offered anything to cease the pain but a slavegirl has nothing to 
give. If I had had any sense I would have been a free girl and not being 
tortured by a beautiful, dark-haired girl. 

Natalie was bright-eyed and joyous, breathing heavily as she struck again 
and again into the open invitation of my thighs. I could not believe that my 
cunt was not being slashed to ribbons. But, although discolored and swollen, 
it was still whole. She then sat on my face and told me to be a good little 
slave. 

The next day I was introduced to the man who would change my life. 

 Chapter 10 Scarlet Lines 

Natalie spared me nothing. I was terribly and sore below my waist. She told 
me I was every inch a female and could be proud of myself. She allowed me to 
stand as I pleased to assure myself that no blood flowed and my sex was 
still intact. 

"Today's the day I rent you out, darling," Natalie told me. "It's going to 
be a wonderful experience for you, especially since your cunt is so tender 
and sensitive. I hope you're properly grateful." 

"Yes, Mistress." 

"Whipping your pussy like that did so much for me, darling. But the lovely 
little whip and the service you did after put me beautifully back on course. 
You can expect a repeat next time the rotation delivers you into my power." 

"Yes, Mistress." 

"I'm never sure about that 'Yes, Mistress' bit, but I suppose it's the 
proper thing for a slavegirl to say after being whipped. Bill Masters fucks 
so gorgeously, I have to say you're a very lucky girl." 

"Thank you, Mistress." 

"Gosh, there you go again! All right, all right, I won't punish you for 
that. I want you to carry this obedience right on through after Bill Masters 
comes. If you behave the way he expects, I can raise you price outrageously. 
Would you like me to whip your cunt again?" 

"No, Mistress, thank you." 

"Okay, but I want you to remember that if you blow this deal with Bill, I'll 
whip you like you've never been whipped before." 

She patted my bottom affectionately. "But you've got more sense, darling. 
Perhaps you'll never be whipped again. I forgot to ask Bill Masters if he 
likes whipping girls." 

"I expect I'll soon find out. Natalie, dear, would you be kind and ask this 
guy not to whip me the first day? You can show him between my legs so he'll 
know I don't need it." 

I was puzzled by Natalie, she was doing something which the club would 
punish her for if they found out. Whimsically, I wondered what sort of slave 
Natalie would make for the Sensuality Club. But in the meantime there was 
me, and I couldn't see much to be happy about. If I wanted to be pawed over 
by men, I would never had joined the Sensuality Club. Now, being forced to 
lay down and spread my legs for one after another, didn't thrill me a bit. 
But it was in the rules, the Holy Rules. 

"You've got the June bride feeling, I can tell," Natalie quipped as she made 
coffee. "Butterflies in the tummy and maybe a bit lower down?" 

"It's worse than being a June bride, I've never seen the guy." 

"I don't see why you're bothered, Angelique dear, you've been given to 
several men and it's never bothered you yet. Thing is you fell in love with 
Tom Fredrick's. Am I right?" 

"I suppose so. Girls are crazy. And I've never been sure if it's the guy or 
his genitals we fall in love with. I read once they used to call it his rod 
and he used it to keep his woman in place. Maybe they grew them better 
then." 

"You mean Tom Fredrick's wasn't ... ?" 

"Yes, he was, very much so. But most of them are pretty damned feeble. 
Really, dear, I'm terribly sorry if I'm in a pessimistic mood." 

"The fellow has a right to expect something, too, Angelique dear," she 
reproved. "Let's talk about something else. For instance, why don't you soft 
talk Bill Masters into granting you freedom? A few tears and a bit of 
friction in the right place does wonders with men. I'd be surprised if you 
couldn't twist him around your finger in a week." 

"You'd be in a fine pickle if I did." 

Natalie worked hard at making me feel better. I know my melancholy arose 
from the feelings I had for Tom. A girl can't love one man and spread her 
legs for another and feel right about what she's doing. True, I would be 
helpless when delivered to Bill Masters, and whatever he did to me or with 
me would not be by my choice. The more I mulled the whole thing over, the 
more jumbled my thoughts became. I was thankful when the doorbell rang. 

On Natalie's instructions I clinked and rattled my way to the lounge and 
stood naked to await the master I must serve for the next couple of weeks. 
Natalie had also admonished to smile and look happy. Tugging frightfully at 
my handcuffed wrists, I did my best. 

I felt increasingly foolish as I stood, naked and in chains, to await 
Natalie's boyfriend. When at last they arrived I had never seen Natalie more 
bewildered or flushed as she ushered in not a man but a smiling girl. It was 
Jennifer Seabright. 

Imagine my feeling! I was even more baffled than my mistress. Not simply by 
Jennifer's presence but because she was accompanied by the sweetest thing I 
had ever seen, who could have been any age below nineteen. The girl was far 
too delicious to be walking around loose. I hungered for her instantly and 
could well believe Natalie was salivating, too. 

"Her name is Desiree," Jennifer explained. "Isn't she just too darling for 
words?" 

Along with shock I was receiving messages. With her back to Natalie, 
Jennifer contrived by her expression to tell me to shut up and let her do 
the talking. I contented myself with a, "Hello, Desiree, you're very 
beautiful." I longed to add, "Run for your life," but was too curious. 

"This is Miss Jennifer Seabright," Natalie informed. "She's brought me a 
letter and the whole thing is quite a shock." 

"I can easily explain the whole thing," Jennifer said brightly. "I'm what 
you might call a professional slavegirl and Mr. Masters, who has been my 
owner for some time, wishes to trade Desiree and I in exchange for one 
Angelique Martin." She beamed to me affectionately as if never seeing me 
before. "I expect that's you, isn't it? Please don't call me Miss Seabright, 
Jennifer sound so much better." 

"This has to be insane," said Natalie. 

"Not really." It was as if Jennifer had her speech prepared. "For some 
reason of his own, my Master wishes to make a test with Miss Martin. He sort 
of wants to buy her from this club of yours and then give her the option of 
running around loose or enslaving herself to him." She smiled. "Men are so 
strange. But, anyway, he feels quite sure that in payment for Miss Martin 
you would be only too happy to accept Desiree and I. I think you're getting 
a very generous offer." 

I had to agree but dare not do so openly. This girl was beautiful and 
well-built. She exuded sex, it radiated from her. If anyone wanted sex 
personified, it stood before me now with shinning eyes, lovely long blonde 
hair, and fantastic legs shown off quite well by the short dress. 

"You have to be out of your tree," said Natalie. 

"Don't tell me your fellow members would not approve?" said Jennifer. "I am 
absolutely sure they will approve and will be delighted by what they 
receive. Oh, and by the way, Desiree is my younger sister." I played 
submissive and stood silent but my heart was thudding with an intensity I 
hoped no one could hear. Natalie had stared steadily at the radiant child 
since bringing her into the room. Jennifer took Natalie a step further in 
sinking the hook into Natalie. 

"Would you like Desiree and I to strip, Natalie? We're perfectly willing and 
have two of the nicest bodies you've ever seen." Then she added, "We'll let 
you handcuff us as a sign of sincere intentions. Won't we Desiree?" 

"You'll love my pussy," said Desiree's musical voice. "All the girls do." 

Desiree's fingers were already searching for the zippers. They both made 
quick work of the little clothing they had worn. And they were right. 
Jennifer was a treasure by any standards and Desiree was a fantasy come 
true. I longed to have her alone in some secret place and under my control. 
That dream would not happen. 

The impact was what Jennifer desired. "I'm nice, aren't I? And Desiree is 
out of this world." Her eyes sought Natalie's. "Please say you agree." 

"Of course I agree. The two of you are just too much." Natalie was 
breathless. "I could get a fortune for you." 

"Why don't you? By the way, I do think you should handcuff us so it will be 
too late for us to argue about things. Behind our back is best, isn't it?" 

Desiree's skin was virgin and flawless. Jennifer's bottom was vividly marked 
by whip marks. No one made reference to the colored strips. But they were 
one more evidence that Jennifer spoke true. 

"I'm afraid I'd have to have the Board's approval," said Natalie. "If I set 
dear Angelique at liberty, there could be hell to pay." 

Liberty! What a wonderful word. I had even enjoyed it once, a long time ago. 
But the thrill was every bit as strong, the desire as great now. I looked 
directly at my mistress, 'This means a lot to me, Natalie. If I wanted to be 
dramatic, I could say it means my life. And you're getting such a bargain." 

"You and I can believe that, Angelique. But will the rest?" 

Natalie was weakening. 

"I really do think you should handcuff us, Miss Crosby," Desiree said in 
sweet innocence. "Jennifer look every so nice when we're handcuffed." 

If I had been free, I would have handcuffed them myself. It was as if 
Natalie was in some sort of trance as she sought out two pairs of handcuffs 
for her visitors. When it was done, Natalie stepped back. 

"I think you should tighten them one or two clicks," said Desiree sweetly. 
"Mine are not tight enough." 

My heart melted. 

Natalie tightened both pairs of handcuffs to make their wearers wince. I 
could tell she was hooked. All that was left was to reel in the fish. If 
Natalie loved them die club would love them, too. 

There is some sort of magic about locking a girl's hands behind her back. 
She becomes helpless and everything she has can been seen. So it was with 
Jennifer and Desiree. I noted that both of them had nipples aroused and 
erect, indicating that they were also getting a charge out of this. 

"I like being handcuffed and I'm obedient," said Desiree. 

"If you want a bit of sport along with the whipping of our bottoms, and the 
other services you can compel us to provide, I'm quite willing to try and 
escape every chance I get." Jennifer contributed helpfully. 

"But I simply must contact the Board." Natalie's voice was shaky. 

"I'm afraid we can't wait for the Board to hold meetings and all that 
nonsense," Jennifer affirmed. "We think we're offering you a bargain. But if 
you don't want us, we won't be a nuisance, we'll simply leave." 

"You can't. You're naked and handcuffed. I could keep you and Angelique, 
too." Natalie was right on target. "I've got you and I don't have to 
bargain." 

"There is your conscious, you know," Jennifer said slyly. "We're not doing 
this on our own, Mr. Masters is in on it, too. If one of us doesn't report 
to him this afternoon, you'll have him knocking on your door." Jennifer 
smiled. "He told us to tell you that as a last resort, if he thinks you 
haven't played fair, he'll go to the police." 

Jennifer was wasted as a slave. She should have been in the United Nations. 
But I knew how she felt about the handcuffs and all the rest of the scene, 
handcuffs puckered up my pussy, too. Girls are shockingly weak when it comes 
to their glands. 

"Do we have a deal?" Jennifer inquired sweetly. 

"I'll be ever so nice between your legs, darling," Desiree said as if she 
could hardly wait. 

"This is something I simply can't decide alone, you'll have to give me time. 
I simply can't let Angelique walk out the way you ask." 

"In that case please unlock our handcuffs and we'll walk out." Jennifer's 
voice was firm. 

"And I would so have loved to have eaten you, Miss Crosby." Desiree sounded 
soooo sincere. 

"Very well," said Natalie, utterly enraptured. "It's a deal. When I've put 
leg irons on your ankles, I'll turn Angelique loose. I suppose she can take 
your car." 

"Of course." 

As if by afterthought, Natalie demanded, "I suppose you realize what you're 
doing makes you prisoners for life. Do you really want that?" 

"We wouldn't be here if we didn't, Miss Crosby." 

I stood in silent disbelief as Natalie took the leg irons from my feet and 
locked them on Jennifer. There was another pair for Desiree. When my 
mistress unlocked the handcuffs on my wrist I knew myself in a dream come 
true. Half an hours later I was driving Tom Fredrick's car down the highway, 
totally clothed and free. In the handbag given me was two hundred dollars 
and ahead of me Tom Fredrick's would be waiting. I had to wonder how he had 
impressed Natalie in his role of Bill Masters, but after all I'm only a 
slavegirl and needn't bother my head over such trifles. My heart was 
signing. 

A girl has to lose liberty to know how glorious and wonderful it is. Even 
though I was driving I took time to kick my feet or wave an arm. Freedom is 
also intoxicating and in my euphoria it suddenly occurred to me that I 
should not be delivering myself to Tom, even though he had purchased my 
release this second time. It just suddenly seemed so logical to return to my 
home, call Tom on the phone and make him come to me. I knew, of course, 
should he refuse, I would immediately go to him. But I would not tell him 
that. At the first safe opportunity I would turn his car around and head for 
my own home from which Debbie had unkindly snatched me a short time ago. My 
heart was now singing even more loudly because I was my own mistress again. 

I thought of the Sensuality Club and shivered. It was a really marvelous 
idea to have a pet slavegirl to pass around. That is, so long as you are not 
the slavegirl! I knew that after my more than a year of enslavement I would 
never be quite the same again. I don't mean more or less but simply 
different. My mistress had unlocked within me sensations and emotions I 
never knew I had. I had to admit to the strangest and most erotic sensations 
during all those punishments the girls thought up for me. I'd never fallen 
in love with being whipped even though it was sensual, too. I could figure 
I'd be whipped often enough if I went back to Tom or if he took me by force. 
There is something different and special between a man and a woman. 

But I refused to dwell on it and concentrated on getting home. I knew myself 
terrible in love, that much was sure. 

Thinking about Tom Fredrick's made my panties wet. I suppose one of the 
reasons for my own doubts about love arose from my inability to forget those 
powerful thrusts by which Tom made me know I was most surely female. 

I was in a dither of happiness when I pressed a little button and my garage 
door opened. When it closed again behind Tom's car I knew I must not make 
the same mistake again but to immediately phone a locksmith to render those 
keys to my home which the Sensuality Club possessed valueless. My house was 
empty as I made for the little room I call my office and the phone. For sure 
the Sensuality Club would not catch me napping again. 

Waiting for me beside the phone was Tom Fredrick's. 

I was not rooted in shock, nor did I stand with my mouth wide open as people 
are suppose to do when shocked out of their socks. Without pause I flung 
myself on him, put my arm around his neck and repeated over and over, "Thank 
you, thank you, thank you!" 

When we came up for air his welcome was typical, "I thought I should kidnap 
you before that damned fool club of yours did it again. Now take off those 
stupid clothes, you look ridiculous." 

Shedding the dress was instant nudity. Kicking off the shoes I immediately 
resumed position. After Tom had played with my nipples a little while, I 
implored, "Please take me to bed. Can't you sense that I'm in agony?" 

"I want you in agony, you aggravating pussy cat." His fingers fell away. 
"I'm still annoyed over giving you freedom and you toss it away without even 
trying to keep it. I'll make sure you're never free again." 

"Do I get whipped first thing?" 

"You deserve to. But the signs indicate you've been pretty well whipped 
already. Some girl must have been a real pussy fancier. I suppose the marks 
on your back and rump were donated by the club?" 

"That's right." Snuggled up close. "But if you want to whip me again now I 
won't mind, honest I won't. It feels so good with you." 

"You're a vixen who needs and deserves a few lessons. But you needn't think 
I'm going to whip you every day just to appease that lusty little cunt of 
your. Good gosh, just feel it now!" 

"I'm so glad you made me take off Jennifer's dress. I've been naked so long 
I hate clothes. Am I permitted to ask about Jennifer?" 

"Not really, but I'll stretch a point in this case. Jennifer was simply a 
case of too damned much, too damned often. And that little trick Desiree she 
called in to please me is too young. But I figured she'd please those 
lesbian cats at the club. I simply prefer you." 

"But the club will keep her for life, won't that cost you a fortune? That 
deal you make with her?" 

"I'll be disappointed if it does." He laughed. "I'll be damned good and 
surprised if Jennifer and her little sister aren't back home by tomorrow. 
When they got there, were they searched?" 

"They were stripped naked." 

Tom laughed again in most evident amusement. "Jennifer and that little 
nymphet had more handcuff keys tucked up in places or in their hair than 
they'll ever need. Pity the poor girl responsible for them, she'll wake up 
to an empty nest." 

I felt sorry for poor Natalie, the club would be furious. I could only hope 
she wouldn't suffer the wrath of the Sensuality Club too badly. I thrust 
concern away to demurely plead, "Please take me to bed." 

"No! You have to be punished for all your absurdities, so you can damned 
well wait until it's me who gives the word. Don't you ever start telling me 
what to do." 

"I'm sorry, Master. I'm so terribly happy, I've forgotten what I am. Am I 
still a slavegirl?" 

"Wouldn't you sooner be my wife?" 

The heavens opened and I heard violins and angels. The best I had been 
hoping for was to be his slave for always. His simple question left me 
breathless. I had been kneeling at his feet as we talked. I had been gazing 
up at him. "Master-oh, Tom! Do you really want to marry me? I want to be 
your wife so damned bad." 

"There's strings attached, honey." 

"You mean you want to punish me some way first?" 

I could tell Tom was delighted with me. I knew it the same way a child knows 
it has pleased it's elders. Tom's voice was sober as he said, "What 
punishment, sweetheart? Since I got you back this time you've been willing 
and almost anxious to be punished as if I'm a practicing sadist with nothing 
else to do. I love submission in a girl but that collection of hens have got 
you so well broken I'm not sure I like it." 

Perhaps without knowing it Tom was opening up for me fresh vistas. I could 
be myself again. I could be Angelique Martin who had opinions and could make 
them known And who could indulge in a pout or a sulk when so inclined. Tom's 
voice took me a step closer. "Whether you're my wife or not, you'll still be 
captive. I want a wife who can go out and around with me on occasion. But 
what I want most of all is my own captive maiden who will always be trying 
her damndest to escape. I don't want a doormat. Am I making sense?" 

I laughed delightedly. "What you want, Master, is the Angelique who lost 
that lottery' months ago. When I think of all the agonies I went through ... 
." 

"You've got the idea. Now I propose to make it real. I'll keep you prisoner 
for thirty days. I've even treat you rough. I don't mean whipping you, but 
cords and chains and ropes and stuff. You'll be a well confined girl. If, at 
the end of the month, you have failed to escape then that is that. I'll keep 
you prisoner and enjoy you to the full. If, on the other hand, you manage to 
escape my ropes, the two of us will go and get married. And live happily 
ever after." 

"But, darling, in all the time I've been a prisoner I've never managed to 
get loose from anything. I've never even come close to getting loose." 

"I have to hand it to that bunch of Lesbians for keeping you a secured 
prisoner. They know what they're doing. I'll admit you never had a chance, a 
girl just can't defeat handcuffed wrists and chained feet. That's why I'm 
promising you no metal. No handcuffs." 

"There were times when they simply kept me tied, I never got loose then, 
either." 

"Stop quibbling. I'll be very surprised if sometime during the next thirty 
days you don't get the best of a bit of cord." 

"Couldn't we get married now and I'll escape afterwards?" 

"A remark like that can get you a stripped bottom. Watch it!" 

"I'm sort of free right now," I said. "Do I get. . well, fastened?" 

"I'm being nice to you. And anyway, I want you free for a purpose I have in 
mind. I've got something I want to show you. But, first, do we have a deal?" 

"Of course we have a deal. I can't really lose, can I? I'll try my damndest 
to become Mr. Tom Fredrick's. But, if I fail, you're stuck with me anyway. 
I'll just have a couple of chaffed wrists." 

"Damn it, Angelique, I can't see why you can't steal a kitchen knife or 
sucker me into tying you less tight. And there's always the fictional way of 
rubbing your tied hands against something sharp. When I think of all the 
tricks girls play on men, you and I will be walking to the alter within 
seven days." 

I kept silent. After being a prisoner for so long I did not share Tom's 
optimism. If I was tied by Tom, I was sure I'd stay tied. But I could see 
this meant a lot to him. And I could see it adding a delightful spice to 
whatever he did to me or we did together. I tucked the marriage bit away in 
the back of my mind and told myself I was a very lucky girl. 

Suddenly I was in Tom's arms and for quite a long while I entirely forgot 
ropes or anything else. 

Being loved made everything right. It didn't matter to Tom or I what the 
rest of the world thought. We were happy. When, after we surfaced, he told 
me to come and see his surprise, I followed without a thought. When he threw 
open the door to my lounge and waved me in I was totally unprepared. Naked 
on my rug and bound tight into the contortion of a hogtie was Nancy Turpin. 

"She seemed to be in charge here when I arrived so I put her on hold," Tom 
said casually. "Probably you know who she is." 

"Untie me this instant, Angelique," Nancy said. "This idiot of a man is 
insane." 

I wanted to laugh. I know the reaction is unkind but emotions have been 
piled on emotions, and a tied up Nancy Turpin, stark naked was just too 
much. 

"Tom's very nice when you get to know him. I'm sure he'll untie you when he 
gets ready." 

"I'm not asking him. I'm telling you. Angelique! Do as you're told." 

I have to admit that I was tempted to obey orders. But Tom took over. "You 
can stop ordering Angelique around. I suppose you're one of those hens from 
the Sensuality Club. You've lost Angelique. Angelique belongs to me now." He 
paused a few seconds. "And so do you." 

It hit poor Nancy hard but she did her best. "I'll have the police deal with 
you," she said harshly. "You probably don't realize the power of our club. I 
have to suppose you've stolen poor Angelique again. But if you now set me 
free and allow me to dress, I will convey whatever messages you wish to the 
Board." 

Tom gently clapped in mock applause. "Magnificent, simply magnificent," he 
said. "Yes, I now own Angelique. But I also own you. I'm well on my way to a 
harem." 

"You are disgusting. These ropes hurt. Untie me." 

Nancy was very beautiful there on the rug, naked and with very tight ropes 
cutting into her arms and legs. I wondered how good a sport she would be 
about the reversal of our roles. Tom caught my eye and winked. "See if you 
can get through to her, Angelique." 

I'd seen Nancy naked before but I have never seen her hogtied. Innocently, 
and trying to please, I ventured, "You really do look beautiful like that, 
Nancy." 

"I don't. I look horrible. And I feel horrible. Angelique, if you don't 
untie me right now, I'll report you." 

"I'm afraid I don't belong to the club anymore. I belong to Mr. Fredrick's. 
So do you." 

"Nonsense! Men don't count. Either tell him to untie me or do it yourself." 

I sighed. I could almost feel the authority of the Sensuality Club from this 
tight-bound girl on my rug. Tom was right, I had been their prisoner far too 
long. I tried again, "Nancy, dear, I think you have to understand that 
you've become a prisoner of war. If I were you, I would be very polite to 
Mr. Fredrick's. If you are, I'm sure you won't be whipped very often." 

"You little cheat!" Nancy was staring at me and what she saw as my 
disloyalty. "When the club is deciding how to punish you for this, I won't 
help you at all." 

I sighed again. "It would be better if you told Mr. Fredrick's that you're 
happy to be his prisoner and that you want to please. Nancy dear, don't get 
yourself punished." 

Being hogtied and naked while a man looks on isn't the easiest thing for a 
girl, especially for a member of the Sensuality Club. Getting nowhere 
myself, I was thankful when Tom took over. 

"Stubborn little bitch, isn't she? Don't bother arguing with her, I'll just 
have to whip some sense into her. Or would you like to do the whipping? Was 
she mean to you?" 

"The way the club figured it, none of them were mean." 

"But you still collected a lot of marks on your skin?" 

"Well, yes. But, Tom, it's so hard to explain." 

"I'm sure it is." Tom's voice was harsh. "Especially with her ladyship 
listening. Maybe I should whip her immediately. I can tell she's not going 
to talk sense until she's well stripped." 

"Don't you dare!" Nancy went into a positive frenzy of rolling and twisting 
against Tom's ropes. "Angelique, tell him he mustn't. Tell him how wrong his 
is. Tell him. Oh, tell him anything you like but don't let him whip me." 
"All Tom wants to do is make you understand." 

"Go to hell." 

I was shocked by that outburst. A slavegirl, and that was what I was 
thinking of Nancy as, simply did not talk like that to anyone. 

Nancy simmered down a bit 'Tell the damned fellow I'm ready to listen to 
whatever he wants to say. But you can also tell him he's making a bit 
mistake." 

"Why don't you tell him, Nancy?" 

"Tell you what, Angelique, girl," Tom said, "you go and make coffee while I 
talk to the princess here." 

I still wanted to laugh but still felt sorry for poor Nancy. A girl who has 
been a mistress does not happily become a slave. I made coffee and enjoy 
every second of being free. I glowed with the thought that Tom loved me. All 
the days ahead seemed wonderful. And I wondered how long it would take Tom 
to tire of Nancy and send her back to the club. 

When I returned with the coffee, I got an instant command. "You can untie 
the hog, Angelique. But not her hands and feet. In her present mood I think 
she'd be a trouble. When I drew away the cords binding her feet to her 
wrists. She seemed grateful but sat up on one hip and said, "I take it I'm 
not to be set free." 

After a little coffee Nancy ventured, "Would money buy me freedom?" 

"No. Don't need it." 

"Can I abase myself some way to earn liberty?" 

"No. Don't need the service. I've got Angelique." 

The poor dear wiggled and twisted a bit before she asked, "So you keep me 
prisoner? I can't stop you. What can I expect?" 

"Pretty much the same as you gave Angelique. Depends on your behavior." 

"Is there something I can say or do or some price I can pay to avoid being 
whipped?" 

I gave her more coffee. I also straightened out her hair for which I get a 
really sincere thank you. Girls hate to have men see them with their hair 
mussed. 

"I was never all that unkind to Angelique." 

It was a cry for help. 

"Ever whip her?" 

"Well, yes. All the girls whipped her. At that time she was the only slave 
we had." 

"How many strokes?" 

It was dangerous ground and Nancy saw the trap. Looking at me, she lied, 
"Five. It was mostly five." 

"Horseshit! I might believe thirty?" 

My former mistress twisted towards me. She was distressed. She sought help. 
"I never did give her thirty. Tell him I never did give you thirty, 
Angelique ... please!" 

"Angelique feels sorry for you so I can't believe a word she says," Tom 
replied coolly. "I'll start you out with twenty. That won't be hard and with 
a whip that won't draw blood." 

'Twenty! I'll die!" 

"We'll have your remains delivered to the club. Is this your first time 
ever?" 

"Of course it is. And you're a brutal beast for tormenting me like this." 

Once more she turned to me. "Oh, Angelique, what am I to do? What is going 
to happen to me?" 

"If I knew what was going to happen, Nancy dear, I'd tell you. But 
slavegirls don't know anything. Maybe it would be a good idea for me to tell 
Tom what you did to me." 

"Please don't, it will sound terrible." 

Nancy relapsed into a sulky pout. 

I knew Tom was enjoying this whole thing. In a way I was enjoying it, too. 
There is something delicious about humiliated pride, and I'm only human. 
Dear Nancy was at the top of a slide into a humility she could not even 
imagine. 

When Tom told me to untie her feet, I knew her time had come. 

My house had a basement but no dungeon, whipping post or cage like other 
members of the Sensuality Club. But Tom said he would make do and we all 
went downstairs. When Tom paused before one of the heavy timbers, Nancy 
chose to be dramatic. "A whipping post, I presume? How appropriate." 

When he untied Nancy's wrists she went crazy. I knew she believed that she 
could run free and being naked she would attract instant attention. I stood 
there as she used all her strength to fight my man until he grabbed a 
handful of hair and shook her head. Nancy's struggled stopped. 

"I should batter you around a bit, that's the conventional way to handle a 
struggling woman. You want that?" 

She did not answer. He shifted to one of her wrists. 

"The police will get you for this." 

Tom snorted a short laugh and that was the end of that discussion. 

Nancy's wrists were soon tied one to each side of the massive timber and she 
was a prisoner. The rest of her was free and available. I wiped away the 
tear which escaped her and whispered hope, "Girl's don't die from being 
whipped. You know that from the way it was with me. It will soon be over." 

"No it won't," Tom vowed decisively. "This is her first time and she is 
going to enjoy it. None of this soon be over business. Here goes number 
one." 

I swear I felt the pain. I winched at the truly awful sound of a leather 
thong cutting into the skin of a naked girl. I knew this was going to be 
bad. Nancy refused to scream. I knew she would hold her screams for as long 
as possible out of pride. But she went wild in trying to escape her timber. 
She even went to the length of thrusting a bare foot against the wood. I 
longed to tell her how useless it was but, on the other hand, struggling 
helps. Screaming helped, too. Tom was being totally The Master. "I want you 
to get the full effect of each impact, Miss Turpin. Whether you've been 
whipped before or not it is still a unique experience, you should pay 
attention and enjoy. I'm going to note the effect of my leather across your 
skin. Fine colors form, especially when two strokes are laid over each 
other. 

The second stroke caught her still struggling from the first. It evoked much 
the same response save for a larger gasp. Nancy was breathless but Tom 
continued, "One tenth of your punishment. Think what a changed young woman 
you will be when I count out twenty." 

"You bastard! This doesn't change anything expect to make me hate you." 

"If twenty does not achieve our purpose, we can start all over again, Miss 
Turpin." 

Nancy stood there panting. This time she refused to speak and waited. No 
doubt she was thinking of the power of the club. I counted three, four, five 
and six. At number seven Nancy began to scream. At the start they were more 
gasps of agony. But as seven and eight marked her skin they were closer to 
pleas. She never ceased struggling against the ropes that held her. 

"When you feel humbled, tell me," said Tom casually. 

"That isn't going to happen," said Nancy in gasps. "I suppose you know 
you're killing me." 

The whole affair was beautifully spaced. Tom was indeed a Master. When the 
word ten was pronounced, I knew Nancy heart it only as a promise of ten more 
to go. She moaned and for the first time failed to scream as the leather 
kissed her bare shoulders. As if out of a clear blue sky, she said dully, 
"If you'll stop whipping me now, I'll do whatever you want. Please?" 

Our master did not stop. Instead he suggested, "Do I notice a change in 
tone, Miss Turpin? Are you beginning to realize you are not the only young 
woman in the world?" 

"Whatever you want. Just stop this." 

"Excellent, Miss Turpin. You are reacting beautifully. Please keep me 
advised as we progress." 

There was eleven and then twelve. The leather was wet now with Nancy's sweat 
and had a different sound. Her struggles were less wild now. And her skin 
was more marked up. It was terrible and beautiful at the same time. After 
the fifteenth impact of leather, I heaved a sigh of relief she did not 
share. So far as Nancy was concerned, her whipping still had far to go. 

At number sixteen, she gave her loudest scream of all. Then she was silent 
and immobile. When the word "twenty" was announced, she simply stood 
panting. Miss Nancy Turpin had traveled a long road. 

Tom and I stood silent as though in awe. I don't suppose either of us had 
doubt about Nancy's state of mind. We merely awaited confirmation. It came 
as she slowly said, "You were right, I've been a proud and haughty bitch. 
And I wasn't all that kind to Angelique. But please don't whip me anymore, 
I've had enough. I didn't even believe I could take this." 

It was about a beautiful a surrender as a man could wish for but Tom was not 
satisfied. His voice was crisp. "Who and what am I?" 

The answer was instant. "You are Tom Fredrick's, my Master." 

"And what are you?" 

"I am your slavegirl. I will obey. Please don't whip me again." 

"And what is Angelique?" 

"Angelique is the girl you love. I expect to obey her." 

The beautiful response had not been mechanical. But each had been filled 
with feeling. Nancy had indeed traveled a long and painful path. 

Tom consulted his watch. "I liked the way you said that. You have arrived at 
these conclusions in the space of forty minutes. Should you find your 
feelings changing, the whip is here. Draw comfort from that." 

"Yes, Master." 

Another job was done. 

We left the naked Nancy tied to the post to take her time in returning to 
normalcy. Tom and I went to the lounge where I poured brandies in what I 
suspected might be the last of my freedom. I had no doubt about how to 
dispose myself, offering Tom's drink while on my knees. 

"Think you can handled it?' 

"You mean to be whipped the way Nancy was?" 

"Hell, no! You're whip-happy, Angelique. I'm talking about the thirty days." 

"Of course I can handle it! Darling, don't you see, I can't possibly lose." 

"That's a flaw in the arrangement I should correct. It's no fun having a 
situation in which you can't possibly loose. If you fail to find you freedom 
in thirty days, you not only become a permanent prisoner, but you also 
become ..." He eyed me shrewdly. "What would be really bad for you? Fifty?" 

Fifty would kill me. I was sure of it. It was impossible. But I cheerfully 
replied, "Fifty would be nice, Master. Perhaps you should make it sixty." 

Tom laughed, recognizing bravado. "It's a deal then," he said. "You get 
yourself someway free and you become Mrs. Tom Fredrick's. Or you get the 
whipping of your life and become a slave forever. Looks like a pretty good 
deal to me." 

I did not contradict. 

 Chapter 11 Girl in Gold 

I was not bound until the following morning. Sure I could have escaped 
during the night but escape from Tom Fredrick's was the last thing I wanted. 
Poor Nancy had to sleep on the floor with both wrists and ankles locked in 
handcuffs. As an added precaution, Tom locked a chain around her neck with 
its other end locked to the bedpost. I really felt sorry for Nancy even 
though I felt quite certain she was counting my sins in her mind and 
calculating the punishment to which I would be subject once I was back under 
control of the Sensuality Club. In the meantime she belonged to Tom. 

In the morning Tom took us away. Nancy rode in the trunk. He said my home 
was not properly equipped for the subjugation of slavegirls and his place 
would work much better. On arrival Nancy was instantly locked in a 
downstairs cell. I stood trembling as Tom ran a length of cord back and 
forth through his fingers. He eyed me. 

"You know what to do, honeybunch," he said and I felt a thrill run down my 
spine. "We now begin your thirty days." 

I've already spoken of the extraordinary sensations I feel whenever I turn 
my back and offer my bare arms. It was the same now only more so. Tom 
Fredrick's quite simply crossed my wrist and with care bound them with the 
thin cord I knew I could never defeat. I did not care, this was a beginning, 
not an end. When he had tugged the final knot, he asked aggressively, 
"Well?" 

"I can't get loose." I laughed in unconcern. 'Tom, there's no way I can ever 
free myself after you tie me like this!" 

"You haven't even tried." 

"No, but I will. What I mean is a girl knows when she's helpless." 

"Okay, okay. I suppose I should do something with your feet. Can't have a 
girl running around almost free." 

My master set me down so I could watch him join my ankles a foot apart with 
rope he finally wound around and around the connecting strands until it 
looked like a hangman's knot. I could walk but my steps would be short and 
my progress slow. 

Making my voice casual, I asked, "Is that it? Does this replace the 
handcuffs and leg irons?" 

"That's it, sweetheart. Haven't you already figured ways to get loose?" 

I knew I would never get loose but did not tell him so. I simply shrugged 
and said, "I'm going to be your wife. I don't know how I'll do it but I 
will. I hope this is all the tying up you're going to do." 

"Damn!" Tom exclaimed. "Those feet! I can't get your legs apart." 

"You could have thought of that before you tied them." 

"Don't be a smart-ass. Would it be cheating if I put those golden leg irons 
back on your ankles?" 

"I don't see why you couldn't untie my feet at night and tie them again the 
next morning. You're getting lazy. I'll figure something out." 

"I could screw you dog fashion for the next thirty days. Of course I could 
always use Nancy?" 

"Use the golden shackles," I said with instant decision. 

We left it at that. 

During those first few days there were times when I thought of asking my 
master to relieve me of the cords and lock me once more in the lovely golden 
shackles. By the end of the first twenty-four hours I knew I was never going 
to escape from the way he tied me so what the hell. I didn't ask because it 
seemed ungrateful and because it might seem I didn't want to become Mrs. Tom 
Fredrick's. But I didn't worry too much because of the truly outrageous 
things he did to me, in and out of bed. His sexual use of me was so nearly 
continuous I thought I would grow numb and lose sensitivity. But with him it 
didn't work that way. I got more and more acutely sensitive in all the 
proper places. I was so happy I didn't bother much about trying to get 
untied. From my first moment of being bound I had secretly suppose my weapon 
would be in the kitchen, and went there as soon as I could. But the knives 
were all in one drawer which was locked. I could almost hear Tom laughing. 

My next try was with a pair of scissors but the stuff Tom had used laughed 
at the scissors and I actually broke a pair. Guilty I hid the broken pieces. 
I looked around the house for those sharp edges but found none. Because of 
Tom's constant attentions, I didn't much care. 

My master was interested in my progress of lack of it. And he inspected my 
tied wrists daily, always assuring me my hands were securely tied. I could 
have told him that myself. My feet were freed often, mainly because Tom 
didn't really like doggy style. The golden shackles were sometimes locked 
on. I didn't complain because it was a lot nicer to walk around with chained 
feet than tied ones. Little by little we settled down to a comfortable 
routine from which I was positive I could never escape and didn't really 
want to. Tom assured me I would make it before the thirty days was up but he 
was the only one who believed it. 

I felt guilty about Nancy. Nancy Turpin was a fellow member of the club and 
against whom I had no wish for revenge. Tom was keeping her locked in the 
cell which wasn't much of a life for any girl. When I asked why he kept her 
there, he said it would teach the club not to mess in his affairs. Even 
though the poor girl was behind bars I was jealous. Tom allowed me to visit 
Nancy on the fourth day. He opened the cell door wide and left it that way. 
It didn't matter very much because I was tied and Nancy was locked to a ring 
in the stone floor which allowed her the run of the cell but little else. 

In my whole life I don't think anyone was so pleased to see me. Nancy's 
hands were tied behind her back the same as mine so our greeting was 
inhibited. I don't think it is right to lock a girl behind bars and leave 
her long. 

I immediately gave her the only physical comfort I could by doing what Tom 
called "muff diving." When she felt better I was deluged with questions. Why 
had Tom made her prisoner? What was Tom going to do with her? What was Tom 
going to do with me? 

When I protested I didn't know the answers, I'm sure she thought I lied. 
Seeing how beautiful her nakedness was, I secretly wondering if Tom wasn't 
keeping her around because he wanted a second female body to screw. 

We backed up and tried to free each other's hands but gave up in disgust 
when we could not work the knots loose. Nancy was curious about the whip 
marks on her bottom that she could not see. I assured her that they were all 
the expected color and very beautiful indeed. She seemed relieved there was 
no broken skin. After a while she asked how good Tom was in bed and was he 
likely to use her as well as me. 

I picked the query up as wishful thinking and was again jealous. 

After a while Nancy brought up the topic that was perhaps her main concern. 
"Angelique, in those times when I whipped or the other girls whipped you, 
did you get these strange sensations?" 

"Of course I did." 

"I mean as if you had gone miles away from the here? And that you weren't 
any longer the same girl at all?" She gazed at me earnestly. "Should it be 
like that?" 

"I guess so." I almost had to laugh at how serious she was. "Being whipped 
is the start of turning someone like you or me into a slavegirl. Our owner 
then whips us once in a while to keep the knowledge in our mind. It's sort 
of basic and simple." 

Nancy nodded slowly. Then as if anxious to impart a discovery, "Your owner 
is really marvelous, isn't he?" Her eyes were shining. "You're so lucky, 
Angelique. I really do envy you. But I do wish he'd take me out of this 
cage." 

I laughed. "You're a perfect example of the before and after. You mean to 
tell me Tom actually achieved a conversion with only twenty strokes?" 

Nancy had the grace to blush. "I'm not going back on anything I said. But 
I'll admit that fellow you belong to sort of showed me something in myself I 
didn't know was there." She sighed with pleasure. 'Tom really is wonderful." 

I knew the irritation I felt over Nancy's change over heart was 
unreasonable. I swallowed it quickly. I advised, "Nancy, you don't have to 
keep calling Tom my master, or owner, or anything else. Just call him Tom. 
He owns you, too, you know." 

She held up her chain. "This tells me that and so do those bars. But I might 
as well be some wild thing he caught and put in a cage for all the attention 
he pays me." Her voice now held heart-break. "I don't know why he keeps me 
or what he wants me for." 

I had no answer. I wished Nancy was back with the Sensuality Club. For my 
money she was altogether to gorgeous and would daily tempt my master. 
Disgustedly I looked at the chain around Nancy's middle and twisted the cord 
behind my back. "Nancy, dear, I'd get you out of here if I could. But look 
at me, I'm as helpless as you. I don't know why he wants you. I wish I did." 

"You're jealous." 

"I suppose so. Two girls and one man never did work out." 

Nancy shrugged. We were both so helpless it would be useless to argue over 
something we could not control. Sadly she said, "I feel awful about the way 
the club treated you, Angelique. When I think of you being passed from girl 
to girl and getting punished by each one, I have to think perhaps I'm 
getting only what I deserve. Does Tom really have it in for the Sensuality 
Club ?" 

"He hates lesbians. If he catches us doing it, we'll get the whipping of our 
lives." I grinned at her. "Since he's owned me, I've come to understand his 
point of view. He's very much a male." 

"You must have some sort of influence with him, Angelique. Could you please 
ask what he intends for me? Why do I have my hands tied? I can't escape even 
if I had them." 

"I'll try. So far as your hands go, you're no different to me. Mine are tied 
the same as yours. Even if we had tied them, it wouldn't do us any good. 
You're still chained and I'm still shackled. Cheer up, for all I know he 
might let you lose tomorrow." 

My master was not the least bit open on the subject of Nancy. He had got her 
and was enjoying the sense of possession. As he laughingly said, "Think of 
all those clucking hens in the club wondering if I'm going to send her back 
pregnant. Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea!" 

"But keeping her locked up in chains and tied the way you have her isn't 
very kind." 

"They weren't very kind to you, were they? You were all fired anxious to 
escape the first time I met you." 

"Yes, but I don't want her around, she bothers me." 

"Not before I screw her a few times. Teach her she's female." 

"But I don't want you screwing her," I said very unhappily. "I want you 
screwing me and only me. Darling, you've whipped her and brought her down to 
size. Please send her home." 

"Seems to me you said that before." Tom's voice held a warning I didn't want 
to hear. 

"Yes I did and I'll say it again. Tom, dear, two girls and one man is simply 
not a good idea." 

"You're jealous!" 

"Yes, I'm jealous. Nancy's a beautiful girl and she wants you to do it to 
her so damned bad she's hurting. Whip her if that's what you wish but get it 
over. She belongs back in the Sensuality Club." 

"sweetheart, you're giving me orders. You're not my wife yet, you know." 

"And I never will be, not the way you keep me tied." I was becoming 
emotional but didn't care. "I've tried and tried to get loose but can't. I 
love you terribly and don't want you to have another slavegirl. Please?" 

"Maybe it is as well you brought this up." There was a terrible authority in 
my master's voice. "Even if you get loose and I marry you, that is not going 
to change me. I'll still own slavegirls like Jennifer or this Nancy. You 
ought to be pleased because they'll get the strips I could lay on you." 

His voice trailed away and his eyes burned mine. 

"Aren't I enough to keep you happy?" I looked at my master with all the 
appeal I could. "I've never complained about you whipping me. You can whip 
me all you want so long as you take me to bed afterwards and love me. 
Please, Master, don't sleep with any other girl." 

"Don't be silly, we're both adults. Angelique, I thought you had more 
sense." 

The cords around my wrists were suddenly doubly tight. The shackles on my 
feet bespoke of endless slavery. In irritation I twisted my shoulders back 
and forth and said something I should not have said. 

"I don't want to be a part of a harem. If that's all you think of me, then 
you might as well send me back to the Sensuality Club. When one of those 
girls got me, it was at least me alone." 

I knew right away I'd gone too far. I blamed myself for breaking up 
something beautiful. I had touched Tom's male pride and was going to suffer. 
He picked me up bodily and carried me downstairs. Nancy's eyes were like 
saucers as he unlocked the cell door and carried me into her prison. 

"Angelique has gone a bit off course," he announced, "and needs corrections. 
I want you to see her being whipped. With you watching it will hurt her 
twice as much." 

Tom had me! He knew I wouldn't plead or get on my knees in front of Nancy. 
In the same vein, he knew how I would hate to have her watch me whipped. Me, 
who was suppose to become his wife! I stood in anguish while he cut away the 
cords from my wrists and retied my hands well apart and above my head to the 
bars of Nancy's cell. I wanted to cry and recall every word I had said. But 
I did not say a word. 

"I hope this hasn't come about because of me," Nancy said uncertainly. 
"Please, Master, don't punish Angelique because of me." 

"Did you call me 'Master'?" 

Tom stopped the whipping of my back and sounded interested. 

"Yes, I called you Master. That's what you are. You're Angelique's Master 
and you're my Master. Please don't whip Angelique." 

"Would you prefer me to whip you instead?" 

"No, I wouldn't." Nancy sounded defiant. 

"Then watch your tongue. And speaking of watching, you can watch Angelique 
taught a lesson. She's jealous of you and thinks I should send you home. 
Fact is you both need a lesson and you'll both get one. Watch." 

I couldn't call it the worst whipping I'd ever had. It was simply bad 
enough. Whenever I looked back over my shoulder there was Nancy absolutely 
bug-eyed. 

"Damn it, a man has to keep a girl in her place. I probably should whip you 
both first thing every morning. Nancy, pay attention. This is what a girl 
gets here for being sulky." 

The whip cut again and again. 

I had promised myself I would not scream, not in front of Nancy. But I am 
sure Tom had read my mind and toward the end of my correction his searching 
thong because more vicious. Soon I screamed and cared not at all if Nancy 
heard them or not. I was a sad and punished girl. 

I had been thrust against the bars throughout, fearful of my breasts. When I 
realized my master was satisfied I simply hung and sobbed out the agony 
within. I felt defeated and deflated and longed only to go away and cry. But 
I was firmly fastened to the bars and no doubt made a graphic exhibit. I was 
sweating and panting, and altogether in retreat. 

I was not left there long. There was more to come. When my wrists were 
untied I simply stood there, not wanting to meet the eyes of either Nancy or 
my master. My master once more tied my hands behind my back. 

"Lay on your back on that bench, girl" barked my master but not at me at 
Nancy. "Spread your legs" 

It took Nancy several seconds to realize what was happening. For her this 
was it. If I was waiting for her protests, I would have to wait a long time. 
She slowly arranged her chain and herself to please The Master. I knew she 
did what she must but still felt anger. When Tom joined with her, I realized 
I had been positioned such that I had to watch. That probably hurt more than 
the whipping had. 

When Tom Fredrick's completed his conquest of Miss Nancy Turpin he said no 
word nor met my eye. He locked us both behind the bars and went away. Nancy 
pulled herself together and disarmed me utterly by the unexpected. Instead 
of seeming pleased with what Tom had done to her, she rubbed her bare skin 
against mine in concern about my whipped back. I realized she saw my 
whipping only as a punishment because I had tried to help her. How could I 
not feel warmth for her. When she whispered excitedly that Tom had been 
careless in the binding of my hands. Would I like her to untie them, she 
asked. I told her to go ahead and stood still in a mixture of emotions as 
she worked away to give my hands a freedom quite meaningless because my feet 
were still shackled and we were behind iron bars. 

When, after a long time, she came to admit defeat I was not surprised. When 
Tom Fredrick's ties a girl's hands, they stay tied. This was just one more 
proof. With our hands tied behind our backs we tried our best to comfort 
each other and have conversation. She breathlessly told me over and over of 
her startling discoveries of what the male whip and male weapon did to a 
girl. She was happy. 

Tom and I have returned to normal and Nancy was permitted a limited freedom 
around the house, wearing the golden chains that rightfully belonged to me. 
She came to be locked in them because I complained about my feet being 
chained being a violation of our agreement about my attempt to escape. He 
laughingly assured me that from then on I would be roped or corded only. 
Nancy would be the one to wear the lovely gold the club had given me. I had 
been whipped enough to cure me of complaint and kept to myself any protest. 

Tom gave me increasing freedom but never untied my hands. He tied my feet or 
hobbled them in various amusing restraints. Our wedding was a subject he 
talked about often, seeming to believe in it in a manner I did not. 

On the last night before the end of my thirty days of grace, he laughed at 
all my efforts and dwelt upon the terrible whipping I was to receive for 
that failure. Then he hogtied me on the bed while he went to sleep with 
Nancy. 

In the morning when I was sent to make the coffee, something my bound hands 
had learned to do, I tested the draw as I did every morning at this time. It 
was not locked but opened at my tug to reveal every knife a tied up girl 
could ever need. I had long determined how a bound girl could position a 
blade to gain freedom. Within minutes I was free of all ropes and seething 
with excitement. I suspected Tom had done this deliberately, and that meant 
he wanted to marry me as much as I wanted to marry him! 

But there was one task to be done. I fled downstairs. Tom kept a set of keys 
for the golden handcuffs and chains and the cell on hooks on the far wall. I 
freed Miss Nancy Turpin in less time than it takes to tell. I dragged her to 
the garage and thrust her behind the steering wheel. 

"But I'm naked!" she cried. 

"Don't worry. You won't need clothes." 

"But ..." 

"Go on home, where you belong. Go on quick. And give all the girls my love." 

I got back to the coffee making just in time. A minute later I was carrying 
a heavily loaded tray with our morning coffee and my golden shackles. My 
heart was thudding as I mounted the stairs to meet my fate. 

"Got rid of her first thing, didn't you?" he greeted. "I was curious to see 
what you would do. Thought maybe you would be go with her to the hen house 
you call the Sensuality Club." He lifted the weight of golden chains from 
the tray. "Glad you saved them. You'll wear them, of course." 

"Of course." I was breathless. 

"There will also be a punishment for allowing a prisoner to escape." Tom's 
voice was casual. "I suppose you knew this?" 

"I sort of thought there might be a penalty. It's one I won't mind paying. 
Is there anything else, Master?" 

"Yes, there is. You've been damned good and sulky these past days just as if 
I don't have the right to use my own cock. You'll pay for that, too." He 
mimicked me, "Anything else?" 

"Well, yes, when will we get married?" 

"Tomorrow. I'll whip you today but leave your other punishments for the 
honeymoon. That okay?" 

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." 

"And don't get sassy. And I don't want too much lip after the ceremony. You 
had best remember." 

"Yes, Master. I'll be very good." 

"Even when I go out for a night on the town and keep you chained up safe at 
home?" 

"Even that. Master, though I would prefer not to know." I gave him my 
loveliest smile. "After all, I'll only be a wife. Won't I?" 

"That sounds like sarcasm. I'll add it to the list." 

"Thank you, Master. I'm sure I'll be very happy." 

"That sarcasm again? You want to try for more." 

I quite while I was losing, after all a girl's back only can take so much. 
Instead of words I joined my master in our bed and neither of us had much to 
say for a long time. When that time was passed, Tom ceremoniously locked the 
golden handcuffs on my wrists and the golden leg irons on my ankles. 

The gold is really nice. 

And, like Nancy said, my master is really wonderful! 


THE END
