Sentenced
by F.E. Campbell


CHAPTER ONE - Ginevera 

Ginevera gazed wearily up the length of her bare arm to where the leather 
band was tight buckled around her wrists. The straps by which both her hands 
were held above her head and well apart, were indented within her skins now 
the same as before she had been whipped, and before Westley Wallace had 
taken her to be his bride. It was not the strap that held her interest now 
but the golden circlet on her third finger, left hand. When she thought of 
its implications she shivered and ineffectually struggled to deliberately 
hurt her wrists as her only expression of frustration. For Miss Ginevera 
Anderson, it had been an eventful day. 

The whipping had been routine, a fortnightly ritual by which the Trinity 
Academy for Young Ladies constantly reaffirmed a strange imprisonment. The 
first time a girl was thus corrected was always a shock but for Ginevera the 
first time had been long ago. What bothered her most at this moment was to 
wonder what was taking place upstairs and how long she would have to stand 
with strapped wrists to await something at which she could only guess. 
Wearily, she thrust her cheek against a bare arm and closed her eyes to 
wait. Waiting was a virtue every girl at Trinity soon learned. 

Bare feet make little sound but a sixth sense warned the prisoner of a 
second presence in the room. Ginevera tensed and came alert to stare 
wide-eyed at a girl she had not previously seen, a girl as naked as she, 
herself, but standing free of tethers or bonds except for handcuffed wrists. 
She was a dark -haired, dark eyed beauty no longer a teenager. Ginevera's 
guess was her visitor could be twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and had about 
her an air of quiet competence exhibited by the small, secret smile and 
bright, inquiring eyes. The manner in which this new comer wore the 
handcuffs by which her wrists were joined told clearly she was still in. 
revolt against the imposition of the irons. Her voice spoke of education and 
an out of place authority. 

"I'm Avon Adderly. You're Ginevera Anderson," she stated easily. "I was told 
to come down and talk to you but I don't know why." 

"You were told where to find me?" 

"Yes, of course. I was also told not to bother trying to escape and I can 
well see why." She laughed in genuine amusement. "This old castle is a 
fortress, and what isn't solid stone is iron bars. But I discovered this 
yesterday and the day before when I arrived." 

"But Alyth-I mean Lady Hardcastle didn't mention you. No one's said anything 
about a new girl. I suppose you were kidnapped? 

Again the laugh. "No, I wasn't kidnapped. I gather most of the girls were. I 
came for reasons of my own and I know I'm going to be sorry for the 
decision. I take it you were one of the abducted ones?" 

"Sure I was abducted but it was so long ago I had almost forgotten. Did 
anyone say anything about coming down to unfasten me? I'm sick of standing 
like this." Hurriedly, Ginevera added, "This is the way they fasten us for 
the whipping we get every two weeks. You probably noticed the marks on my 
skin." 

"They were the first thing I noticed when I tiptoed in. You seem wonderfully 
casual about it." 

"It's the only way to be. Did anyone say anything about Westley and me being 
married?" 

"You mean they have wives and husbands here! Gosh, you've got a wonderful 
figure. What do you think of mine?" 

"It's too good to waste in a prison." 

"Well, I only sentenced myself to six months and I only did that because 
Grandma insisted. I've got a grandma to pay attention to. Tell me about this 
being married business." 

"I don't know much about it. They had a gathering, just enough to make it 
legal, and all the proper words were said, and, because Alyth seemed to want 
it so much, I made the proper responses, half believing the whole thing was 
a joke. Then Westley slipped the ring on my finger and they all went back 
upstairs. Are you sure no one told you?" 

"Not a word. They seemed to want me to come and talk to you. And I figured 
I'd get a bit more conditioning. I hadn't the faintest idea I'd find you 
like this." 

"Well, if I weren't like this, I'd be like you are. Have you gotten used to 
the handcuffs? We all wear them." Avon shrugged. "I try and get used to them 
but I can't. You girls wear them as though they're a part of you. Look, this 
silly marriage thing you talk about, it isn't going to happen to me, is it?" 

"Not unless Westley takes a liking to you. Haven't you met Westley yet? He's 
Alyth's favorite nephew and can have any girl he takes a fancy to. He's 
taken a fancy to me ever since I came. And now I've got his ring on my 
finger and I'm wondering if the wedding was just a joke or if I'm still 
Alyth's favorite slavegirl-that's what we are, you know." 

"I have yet to meet this Lady Alyth. I think I'm scheduled for tomorrow when 
I get whipped for the first time. She does it to us, doesn't she? I'm told 
she's a real charmer." Avon suddenly looked concerned. "Would you like me to 
try and unbuckle those straps on your wrists. This all seems so weird." 

"If you touch my straps, you'll find yourself like me. You mustn't let me 
lose, it's a no-no." 

Avon shrugged disgust. "Maybe this will all make sense to me after a week or 
a month, but right now I feel like Alice in Wonderland. The way all you 
girls seemed resigned to being prisoners makes me want to scream." 

"I know it's frustrating and hard to understand, but if you came here for a 
purpose you must surely have been told something about Trinity." Ginevera 
looked shrewdly at the lovely girl still playing with the metal around her 
wrists. "Weren't you told about being naked all the time? And the handcuffs? 
And how you'd be whipped every couple of weeks? Damn it, someone must have 
told you something!" 

"I got the whole prospectus but I didn't believe a word of it. I thought 
that poor, dear grandma was passing on a bit of senility. Golly, I never 
actually believed any of it!" She managed to laugh, somewhat bitterly. 

"What sin did you commit to get sentenced to Trinity? Was it sleeping with a 
man?" 

"It was sleeping with a woman, actually. I believe that's considered even 
worse." Avon chuckled at a memory. "I'd really love to undo those straps 
around your wrists. Ginevera. How long have they made you stay that way?" , 
"Several hours, but it's not the first time so don't worry. Are you really a 
lesbian?" 

"That's the funny part, I'm not. But I was experimenting. Am I likely to be 
ravished by this Westley character?" 

"If I was a man, I'd want to get you into bed," Ginevera admitted honestly. 
Then she added, "But Westley's gone and got himself married to me. Not that 
I kid myself about fidelity having any part of our contract. 

It isn't even a contract, I'm simply his to do whatever he likes with. But 
that's not new, either, he's done whatever he wanted to with me from the 
beginning." 

"Sounds an ogre." 

"That's one thing he's not. He's charming and witty and he's mostly smiling. 
Even when he whips you, he wants you to feel it's all a lot of fun. And he's 
ever good in bed with a whole bunch of notions no man should inflict upon 
any girl." Ginevera sniffed. "The trouble is that he refuses the cold 
shoulder and sarcasm and goes blissfully ahead until you wouldn't have him 
stop even if you could." 

"Then what are you complaining about?" 

"Did I say I was complaining? It's just that they've kept me standing here, 
strapped up tight, longer than usual. I'm tired. I want to be let loose. 
Please don't look so concerned when I wiggle around like I do. It sort of 
eases things a bit. You'll know what I mean when it happens to you." 

Whatever Avon might have said was lost in the grand entry of Westley 
Wallace, his amiable grin including both captive girls. The new girl's 
nakedness obviously met his approval. "You're a beauty," he said. "And I 
expect you know you'll get your first whipping tomorrow. I wanted to do it 
but Auntie prefers you get it at her gentle hands this first time. She'll 
whip you beautifully so don't feel you're loosing anything." 

"I'm looking forward to it." The words were heavy with sarcasm. 

"I may take you to bed afterwards and try you out. Did you know it's better 
for both after a girl's been whipped?" 

"No. Really! Please don't feel you have to!" 

Ginevera longed to warn this beautiful creature her sarcasms would earn 
nothing but punishment. But the opportunity passed as Westley said, "Run 
along now, Avon, go back the same way you came. You can rejoin the other 
girls in class. Prompt!" 

Now the sole focus of Westley's attention, the tightly strapped Ginevera, 
had a hundred things to say but they all emerged in a small, sad request, 
"Westley, please unfasten me." 

"I don't see why you wish to get loose, you look very pretty the way you 
are. Quite delightful, in fact." 

"Please don't tease. My hands have been strapped up there for hours and I'm 
terribly tired. Please. What's going on upstairs?" 

"Don't complain, we sent Avon on down to talk to you so you won't get bored. 
Upstairs we're doing a bit of after the ceremony partying. Your presence is 
requested. I'll undo those straps." 

"Westley, I'm a mess! I've been whipped and my hair's a mess! I need a bath. 
How can I possibly ... ?" 

"Well, if you prefer to stay the way you are...?" 

"No, no. I don't want to stay the way I am. I'll go with you." Ginevera knew 
herself defeated but asked hopefully, "May I have something to wear?" 

"Of course you may, sweetheart. I've brought your prettiest pair of 
handcuffs, the ones you love." 

"Westley, you're still teasing. Is that minister man still there?" 

"He's very much there. Last time I saw him he was eating a sardine sandwich 
and discussing with Auntie the trouble he has keeping his curtea off the 
incense. He wants to see you again." 

"Well, I don't want to see him unless I've got some clothes on." 

"If the handcuffs are not enough, dear, I can add some leg irons. They're 
very dressy." 

"Never mind, the handcuffs will do nicely." Ginevera's voice sank to a 
whisper, "Westley, we aren't really married, are we?" 

"Of course we're married, honeybunch. Auntie wants me to father a son to 
inherit Trinity Castle and the family fortune." 

"She wants me to have a baby! Oh, Westley, what are we going to do!" In 
shock Ginevera stood there rubbing the marks on her wrists and staring at 
her husband in dismay. 

"I'm not too keen on the idea myself," Westley admitted ruefully as he 
produced the beloved handcuffs. "Here, put your hands out before I forget." 

Ginevera knew she shouldn't meekly offer her wrists for the steel circles 
but she did. It was more instinct than decision. As the rackets clicked and 
the shinning steel became smoothly snug, she continued her protest, "Well, 
if you don't want a baby and I don't want a baby, what are we to do?" 

"It's simple, love, Lady Alyth will take you off the pill but I'll put you 
back on and we'll neither of us say a word." 

The naked bride used her joined hands to tidy her hair on her way to an 
ordeal she could not avoid. It had been all well for the Reverend Clarence 
Bull to see her naked as he read the marriage lines, but then she had been 
fastened tight and helpless. Now she would move among guests in relative 
freedom to render her nakedness ten times as outrageous as before. She 
supposed she would live and wondered if Lady Alyth was quietly laughing over 
this charade of her own creation. 

Ginevera need not have worried. Her nudity was as implicit as the carpet on 
the floor. To ease embarrassment, Lady Alyth had extracted several naked 
girls from Class to add their chained erotism to an atmosphere already 
heavily charged with sex. The Reverend Clarence Bull appeared not to notice. 

"Isn't this all wonderful, darling?" Lady Alyth nudged her favorite 
slavegirl. "I'm so happy for you and for darling Westley. Please do get him 
a son as quickly as you can. And please be extra nice to every one here." 

"But Alyth, I don't want a son!" 

"I do understand, darling, this is all a bit of a shock. But I've told 
Westley to tie you down to the bed if you become difficult. And, of course, 
I'm taking you off the pill. You're going to be so happy!" 

If the White Rabbit and the Mad Hatter had made an appearance, Ginevera 
would not have been surprised. The handcuffed girls from Class were looking 
at her enviously as a girl who had done well for herself by marrying 
millions and snaring a husband who's expertise in bed was something they 
well knew, having often chuckled over the fact that Lady Hardcastle's 
favorite nephew left no girl unturned. 

They were joined by a very happy Erin, who had been allowed to dress for the 
occasion and who's wrists were free. "Isn't it absolutely wonderful, 
darling?" the teenager bubbled over. "I'm not sure about your baby but I 
expect Mommy will work it out. Aren't you thrilled?" 

"Erin, don't be so pleased about it. I'm not going to have a baby and that's 
final." 

"But, darling, you absolutely must!" Erin was shocked. "Mommy wants you to 
have a son so bad she'll do whatever she has to do to make sure it happens." 
Erin giggled. "You know what I mean, she'll have you tied down to the bed 
for Westley to do you know what, or she'll whip you until you say yes, you'd 
love to have a baby. Darling, you're blushing!" 

For the first time in a long while, Ginevera longed to slip the handcuffs 
from her wrists and flee Trinity Castle and everything it stood for. The 
wedding, which she was still not positive about, was the last straw. 
Bitterly, she inquired, "Where am I being taken for Westley's honeymoon?" 

"Mommy's taking you to New York so you can take in all the theaters." Erin 
sighed. "I wish I could go alone but after this party I have to go back to 
Class and be bare and handcuffed again." Her tone became wistful. "Darling, 
can't you persuade Westley to ... well, sort of try me out? I'd be ever so 
willing." 

Ginevera sighed. She was in no mood for ardent teenagers. No doubt Westley 
had been forbidden to touch Erin or he would have taken her long since. But 
suddenly the thought of a honeymoon became the answer to a prayer. If he 
took her to New York, he couldn't possibly keep her chained in a hotel room 
or tied to the bed in the manner of Erin's imaginings. She would have a 
chance to escape, a chance she had not thought about for a long time but 
which now hammered demandingly at her conscious. She gratefully accepted a 
drink and then another to circulate among the guests and pretend she was as 
delighted as they. All the while her mind was at work. Even when the 
Reverend Clarence Bull had eaten his last sardine sandwich and departed into 
the evening's gloom, and Erin had sulkily gone back to the Class. The 
prisoner found herself alone with a man who said he was her husband and a 
woman who wanted her to have a baby. Ginevera longed to scream. 

"Everything went wonderfully," Lady Alyth said. 'The Reverend Bull and I are 
old friends and I've always found his ability to avoid looking at the 
feminine figure remarkable. He is truly celebrate. The girls in from the 
class enjoyed themselves." She bestowed a knowing look at the blushing 
bride. "They envy you, dear. I know you're still in something of a shock, 
and uncertain whether to be pleased or sorry, but those girls would 
willingly change placed with you. I want you to remember that." 

"Yes, I know. But I want to belong to you, not Westley. I wish we could have 
left things the way they were." 

"You're in a bad mood, dear. If you hadn't already been whipped today, I'd 
whip you again to straighten out your mind. But I'll leave that to your 
husband when he takes you up to bed. I'm sure he'll have ideas." 

"My husband! Oh, you mean Westley. Yes, Westley will have ideas, he always 
does." 

"Well, that's settled then," Lady Alyth said brightly. "What we should talk 
about now is your honeymoon. I've booked you into a good hotel in New York, 
and arranged for theater tickets." As if issuing an order, she added, 
"You'll enjoy it." 

"Don't I get to plan anything about my own honeymoon?" 

"Don't be difficult, dear, you don't get to plan anything. And in case 
you're thinking of escape, Westley will look after that, too. I want you to 
be very happy through the whole nine months." 

"Nine months! You mean the honeymoon is that long!" 

"Your pregnancy, dear," Lady Alyth reminded gently. "Please don't pretend 
you've forgotten or don't know. For the sake of Westley's son you will be 
happy throughout. After the fifth month you will be excused from the 
whipping every two weeks. I have every confidence you'll be a good girl and 
come through with flying colors." 

"And great big belly!" 

Lady Alyth's smile remained. "Westley, dear, your bride is being difficult. 
She's all yours now and I will rely upon you to create in her a proper frame 
of mind. During the first few weeks the darling girl may be whipped as 
frequently as you deem necessary. This includes the period of honeymoon." 

"But I don't want to be whipped at all," Ginevera asserted forcefully. 
"Surely Mrs. Westley Wallace doesn't get whipped the same as the girls in 
the Class?" 

"You won't get whipped at all if you behave yourself," Westley intervened. 
"I've written up a few rules I'll be wanting you to follow, particularly for 
your behavior on our honeymoon. I know you're thinking how easy it will be 
to run away-forget it." 

For Ginevera the day had been just too much. Blindly she groped her way into 
Lady Alyth's warm embrace, clasping her arms around the woman who first had 
made her a slave and then chosen her as favorite from among the girls of the 
Class. Lady Alyth Hardcastle held her slavegirl tight and arranged 
handcuffed arms more comfortably around her neck. Neither woman spoke to 
Westley. 

When they finished their communion, they discovered Westley munching a ham 
sandwich. 

For Westley and Ginevera, bedtime was pure anticlimax. The supposedly happy 
young couple made their way to the appointed place, closing the door behind 
them, while Ginevera advanced to center stage to gaze around in sardonic 
humor at familiar things. Her first request seemed obvious. "You can take my 
handcuffs off now, Westley. I'm no longer one of the girls." 

"You know I won't do that, poppet. I like you just as you are. If you 
complain too much. I'll add the leg irons." 

"But Westley...." 

Westley waved his wife's freedom into limbo. "I don't want to hear a thing 
about it." he said grandly. "The box of pills is on the dresser, keep it 
somewhere handy." 

Ginevera sighed inwardly, raising her joined hands to admire the sleek metal 
bracelets which told her she was still a prisoner. It did not matter, she 
was no worse off than before and was still half inc-lined to believe the 
wedding ceremony a deception designed for everyone's amusement but her own. 
It would be useless to ask Westley questions. He would flippantly refuse to 
be serious. 

Ginevera inquired. "What are you going to do with me on our honeymoon, chain 
me to the bed?" 

"Only at night, sweetheart. Can't have you running around a hotel dressed 
the way you are." 

"You mean I get to wear clothes! Look, Westley, I don't see how you can 
possibly take me on a honeymoon without there being all sorts of 
opportunities for me to run away. I can't help being curious, how am I to be 
... controlled?" 

"You'll be provided with an adequate wardrobe. And I'll take you shopping. I 
can't lead you around on a chain so I'll willing to accept your word of 
honor. If that isn't forthcoming, you will indeed stay chained to the bed." 
With a wry grin, he gathered his wife in two comforting arms to whisper, 
with unusual tenderness, "I'm sorry about this, sweetheart. It wasn't my 
idea and I know it's a bit of a pain. It's damned unromantic considering the 
number of times we've already slept together. I'm fond of you, and if you 
don't hate me we can let it go at that." 

Holidays are infectious. New York gave of its best. The sparkle and lights 
of dinner found Ginevera bubbling with the excitement that any girl would 
feel on just such an occasion. She was totally free and expensively clothed. 
Westley had insisted on a costly bracelet for each wrists. And Ginevera 
found the beautiful bracelets gave her a thrill she could not deny. There 
was no connecting chain but the symbolism was understood. Just as with the 
gold band upon her finger. To add an extra touch of excitement to the 
honeymoon, they had agreed that each morning, upon arising, Ginevera should 
renew her vow of honor not to attempt escape or remain morally free to run 
away. If she chose the latter option, Westley assured he would take whatever 
precautions he saw fit. Laughing he refused to satisfy Ginevera's most vocal 
curiosity as to what such precautions might be. Even though his wife sniffed 
with disdain, Ginevera knew in her heart the honeymoon was going better than 
expected. 

Smiling in a friendly she spoke to a man equally please with himself and 
with her, "Westley, dear, you've given me a wonderful day. Now I'm wondering 
if we really have to live at Trinity Castle after the honeymoon or couldn't 
we have a little place of our own somewhere?" 

"You mean, if you haven't run away in the meantime?" 

She twinkled, "Yes, there's always that possibility ... if you let me." 

"Forget the escape, sweetheart, and forget the pretty little place off on 
our own. Auntie wants was at Trinity, so that's the way it's going to be. I 
have to agree it's a good idea, because where else would we have the dungeon 
and the cells and the ... well, let's call them 'playrooms.' So long as 
you're aware of them being handily available it will help you behave 
yourself. See what I mean?" 

"What I see is I'm going to remain a prisoner as I have been from the 
first." Ginevera shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Westley. I suppose that 
terrible wedding ceremony achieved nothing except to give our son a legal 
status. If he ever happens, and if we really are married." 

"Still not quite sure, are you? Well, sweetheart, it doesn't really matter. 
Although I will admit to a touch of pride when I registered us as Mr. and 
Mrs. Westley Wallace of Trinity Castle, Dorset, England. Don't tell me you 
haven't noticed the respect we're getting. 

"If they only knew!" 

A good dinner, costly wines and ancient brandy sent Ginevera to their room 
with a comfortable feeling of well being and belonging. She decided to amuse 
herself by compelling Westley to call the shots. She refused to undress 
until ordered to do so, and then compelled this man who might or might not 
be her husband to order her about. 

"You know damned well what comes next, honeybunch. Turn around and give me 
your hands." 

No doubt it was the brandy but the unusual request seemed no more than 
amusing. Instantly obedient the lovely girl turned her back upon her master 
and delivered her hands for whatever he might do. The command to remove the 
bracelets was instantly obeyed to be followed by the familiar clasp of steel 
upon her wrists and the familiar clicks which spelt captivity. 

"Is this because I've been extra bad or something?" Ginevera twisted at 
hands she knew she could not free. "Why can't I wear them in front?" 

"Just because, that's why. Get yourself on that bed and lay on them. It will 
be a nice change." 

Ginevera did as told. It was not the first time and previous experience 
enabled an arrangement of her arms with some comfort. From somewhere Westley 
produced rope. It was pleasant to allow her master to do the work. Ginevera 
was in that condition of mild intoxication in which everything was funny. 
While her ankle was being firmly tied, she heard Westley's voice as in a 
lecture. 

"Now we are married, sweetheart, we must avoid the mundane. Let's us avoid 
getting into a sexual rut. Can you guess what I'm about to do?" 

"Spread my legs and tie my ankles to the corners? Westley, you're so funny." 

There was no answer. Instead her ankle was raised and drawn back and back, 
passed and over Ginevera's astonished head to be tied to one of the top 
corners in a position almost painful but not quite. The left cheek of 
Ginevera's exposed bottom was slapped before Westley tied and pulled up her 
other leg to tie it to the other top corner. It was not until her second 
limb was completing it's arch, that Ginevera realized that avoiding a rut 
could be femininely embarrassing. 

"Westley, I don't think I like this. Westley...." she complained. "I've got 
an awful feeling it's obscene. Please untie me and we'll start again." 

"I wouldn't dream of spoiling this masterpiece, honeybunch. It's a work of 
art, you should see yourself." Westley's voice was earnest and sincere. 

Ginevera tried to wiggle but achieved only small, ineffectual motions. Her 
voice, however, had become more irritated. "I don't want to see me. I've 
sure you've fixed me up so I'm obscene. Westley, please, if you must tie me 
like this, cover it up. Put a towel over it." 

"But there's no one here except me." 

"Then I don't want you to see it, either." 

"Do you realize I'm staring right at my little what's it! How on earth do 
you expect to make love to me in this position?" 

"You've got a point! I'll get my clothes off and see how I make out. This is 
interesting." 

"You wouldn't think so if you were me. You've got me tied up like a 
pretzel." 

"Pretzels don't get tied up, sweetheart. Would you like me to cane you 
first?" 

"You haven't got a cane." 

"Actually, I have, dear girl. A nice, slender cane I was able to fit in the 
suitcase. Would you care for a few strokes, just for atmosphere?" 

"No, I wouldn't. I don't want to be caned when I'm fixed like this. Get on 
with your experiment, I'm curious." 

The experiment was not a success. Westley soon discovered the manner in 
which Ginevera was tied rendered the center of his concern illusive and hard 
to get. A fresh approach from a new direction ended with him sitting on the 
rug beside the bed, bemused and baffled. He complained, "I don't get it! 
First you see it, then you don't. Got any ideas?" 

"It would be better if you allowed my bottom back down upon my arms. 
Westley, why can't we just be normal and risk boredom? These upside down 
positions aren't all they're cracked up to be." 

Westley's mood was not thus easily disposed. He untied Ginevera's ankles to 
enable her to thankfully return her legs to the bed. In what she hoped was 
wifely concern, she spread her legs and raised her knees invitingly to 
plead, "Come alone, Westley, no little slavegirl or wife would ever offer 
you more than I do now." 

Westley stared and was forced to agree. "Trouble is you're not tied up 
enough," he proclaimed. "But you've given me a damned good idea." 

Once more it was pleasant to lay still and let her husband do the work. She 
was curious as to his next disposition of her person. But she remained quiet 
and uncomplaining as her ankle was once more snared and drawn back tight 
against it's tight. It took several strands to satisfy Westley's idea of 
what was proper, strands drawn cruelly tight then cinched and knotted out of 
sight. The determined husband had gone to great pains to make sure the job 
was neat and tidy and robbed his wife of legs. Encourage by initial success, 
he completed this new bondage position with her other legs. Laughing 
inwardly, the bound girl longed to tell him he was now back to square one, 
having stolen with his rope no more than she had offered freely of her own 
accord. But her legs were now stumps and she could do little but lay upon 
her arms and open and close her legs. It was at that moment that Westley 
Wallace fell forward with his face within her furry pussy and went to sleep. 

It took Ginevera several moments to realize what had happened. But then she 
raised herself upon pinioned arms to survey the head and shoulders of the 
man no longer her master, a man seemingly intent upon performing oral sex 
acts upon her but not making any progress. She also took a quick look at the 
shortened legs and at the strands of rope deep in her flesh. She sank back 
in unconcern and went to sleep herself with Westley's hot breath upon her 
puss. 

Westley Wallace was not easily embarrassed. "It happened to a lot of couples 
on their honeymoon," he explained as if trying to right a wrong. "Just had 
too much to drink. But I found it damned interesting. That's cute the way 
I've got your feet tied back to your thighs. Would you like me to untie you 
so we can go to breakfast?" 

"Perhaps you should. I can't hobble on my knees like this. I'm glad you 
enjoyed yourself, I missed the boat." 

Sheepishly, Westley untied the tight ropes, then turned their owner over on 
to her face to unlock her hands. Once more freed and returned to normal, the 
slavegirl massaged the deep rope marks on her skin, and was suddenly excited 
about the prospects of a new day in which all she had to do to enjoy the 
delight of a strange city and to wear clothes was to make her declaration to 
no escape. Westley had designed a pleasant little ritual for this and, when 
it was completed, his possession was allowed to dress and accompany him to 
breakfast. Everything was wonderful. 

It remained thus for several days. The morning oath was followed by the 
delights the Big Apple could bestow. During this period it was doubtful if 
Ginevera's thoughts strayed in the direction of escape at all. But as the 
days passed and the excitement lessened, Ginevera's final declaration became 
inevitable. At the appointed time she said quite simply, "No more promise, 
Westley. If I get a chance to run, I'll run." 

"Big deal!" Westley sounded disgruntled. "I know you're testing. You're 
getting bored with a good time. And you want to see what happens." He 
chuckled at some inward vision. "If you're thinking I'll handcuff you to the 
bed, and wondering what you'll say to the house maid when she comes to tidy 
up, you can think again. That's not what is going to happen." 

"So, okay, Westley dear, tell me what is going to happen, I'm curious." 

"I was hoping we wouldn't reach this point for a while," Westley said. 
"We've been enjoying ourselves, why spoil it? Come on, sweetheart, give me 
your word and we'll romp off to explore wonderland." 

"No." 

"You'll be sorry." 

"I'm sure I will. But I'm still curious" 

"There's no way I'm going to let you escape." 

"Sure, sure, I know. But I've still got a feminine curiosity. You can lock 
me in the clothes closet, or tie me into a hogtie and push me under the bed 
where the maid won't see. Or maybe you can put a noose around my neck and 
lead me around New York under complete control. That is the word, isn't it, 
control?" 

Westley sighed and shook his head in a mock regret. "I think you like being 
tied up or handcuffed. But you won't enjoy what I've got in store for you 
the least bit. Look, sweetheart, I've got everything arranged for today but 
suppose we say your promise ends when we're dressing for dinner? After that 
you can run. If you want to." 

"Okay, that's a deal, Westley. Not even handcuffs." 

"Not even handcuffs." 

"And I won't be tied up or anything?" 

"Not until after your parole expires before dinner." 

The slavegirl was satisfied. Embracing her lord and master with a pair of 
totally free arms, she said with complete sincerity, "Thank you, Westley, 
I'll be looking forward to dinner all day long." 

The day brought heart-searchings to the girl who was uncertain whether she 
was married or not. Compared to the stone walls of Trinity, New York was 
heady stuff, plying one delight upon another, but always in the knowledge of 
it all being possible because of Trinity's wealth. Ginevera knew herself a 
much pamper young woman and wondered if this lush luxury would make freedom 
a little less attractive if the chance came. Such restraints as Westley had 
imposed were nothing more than fun. 

In this uncertainty, the slave from Trinity approached the deadline of her 
pledge, wondering if Westley had forgotten. But it was Westley who broached 
the subject of renewal. "Sure you don't want to extend your parole through 
dinner, sweetheart?" He kissed her gently. "You're foolish if you don't." 

She offered apology, "I know you're right, dear. But, like I said, I'm 
feminine and curious. Maybe all I want is a masterful male to put me under 
control. I don't see how you possibly can." 

"Take off whatever you intend to change." Westley's suitcase now yielded a 
length of wire with a small eyelet at each end. He held it up for Ginevera's 
inspection. "Want to change your mind?" 

"No really. Westley, that looks like a bit of wire. What are you going to do 
with it?" 

"This goes along with it." Westley now produced a small padlock. "Haven't 
you figured it out yet?" 

Slowly it dawned. Even Westley's order to clasp her hands behind her neck 
failed to explain the innocence of the length of wire. Attired only in 
panties and bra, the obedient girl stood in the revealing pose and held her 
breath as she was turned around for Westley to perform whatever foul deed he 
had in mind. A moment later she gasped as the wire encircled the narrowest 
part of her waist above her hips. There was nothing dramatic in the 
discovery as Westley inserted his padlock and drew the wire tighter and 
tighter until his padlock entered the eyelet at the other end to complete a 
circle of acute discomfort. The slavegirl's gasp was more of fear than of 
pain. "Oh, Westley!" 

"Okay, sweetheart, revert to normal. You can put your hands down, I'm sure 
you want to." 

The reaction was instant. Female fingers flew to the wire now deep within 
her flesh and the padlock which rested within the small hollow of her spine. 
Nowhere could the wearer of the wire insert a finger or even a fingernail 
beneath the firm wire. When she walked she almost laughed at the outrageous 
assertion of her hips as they swayed from side to side as in the invitation 
of a whore. Westley actually did laugh at the imposition on his wife. "It 
fits you perfectly, sweetheart," he chuckled. "Want to go for a walk?" 

"I can't possibly go for a walk with this thing biting at me. Oh, Westley, 
don't be mean, take it off." 

"If you don't want a nice walk then how about running away?" 

Her fingers still frantically searching for some way to rid herself of the 
thing, Ginevera now understood: this biting constriction would be the 
control, hidden beneath her clothes, it would inhibit anything she sough to 
do. In a mixture of laughter and tears she surrendered. 

"All right, Westley, I'll give you my word. This thing would drive me crazy! 
Take it off." 

"Sorry, love, you made your decision." 

She stared, horrified. "You mean you won't? You mean you expect me to do go 
dinner with you like this! Westley, be reasonable." 

Westley was enjoying Ginevera's slavegirl concern. His voice, as always, was 
loaded with sweet reason, "You want a chance to escape, dear girl. Well, I'm 
giving you one. There'll be all sorts of chances for you to walk or run away 
during the things we'll be doing this evening. What's a bit of discomfort 
compared to the opportunity I'm dangling before your nose? I want you to run 
away, I want you to get the damned fool notion out of your mind. If I never 
see you again, it will be my loss. But I'm betting you'll be seeing the 
sights with me again tomorrow." 

There was now a flare of anger with the pain. Westley was so damned smug, so 
convinced of his power over her that she longed to beat her fists against 
his smile and tell him what she thought of a man who would do a thing like 
this to a girl he was suppose to love. Women possess an unsuspected 
fortitude against agony, so spurred on my the mockery, she angrily commenced 
to dress. 

"You think you're so damned smart, don't you? Well, all right, if I have to 
wear it, I have to wear it. But if I get a chance to walk away without the 
two of us making some awful scene in a restaurant, you can bet that's what 
I'm going to do. Come along, I hope you're proud of walking beside a woman 
who's hips behave like a prostitute on the street corner." 

Savagely she inserted earrings and put on the new bracelets. Somehow she was 
going to wipe that smile from Westley's face. 

It was an exercise in self control. In the elevator and the lobby the 
constricted maiden fought to control her hips and at the same time keep her 
features properly composed. The pain was constant and would get worse. Even 
to sit on the chair the waiter held for her drew a fresh response from the 
enemy around her waist. Her eyes sought her companion's in appeal but 
Westley only grinned and nodded approvingly. "You're doing fine, 
honeybunch," he told her as though the pain was his. "I'm sure you're hating 
me right now but what you have to remember is that you're free to walk away 
at any time. I won't tell you want I'll do if you get up and make for the 
door, I'm not sure I know myself. This whole evening is going to be a 
marvelous experience for both of us." Ginevera swallowed hard and gave her 
full attention to Oscar's menu and Oscar's comforting wine. Westley was 
always a good companion and his cheerful chatter skirted the subject of wire 
around a girl's waist and dwelt largely on their plans for the next day. By 
the time dessert arrived, Ginevera had taken in enough wine to boaster her 
false sense of courage and make the wire seem a little less wicked. She 
excused herself on the grounds of need to visit the restroom. 

They both acknowledged what she had in mind as the hurting walked towards 
the fatal door. She closed her mind to pain. 

First things came first and Ginevera had no doubt what the first thing was. 
A department store yielded pliers with small cutting blades. A ladies room 
provided a place for the fleeing girl to uncover enough of herself to test 
her purchase. There was no way she could get the open jaw beneath the wire 
other than in the hollow of her back. Even this was difficult, as was the 
force needed to close the blades and cut the wire. Ginevera gave the metal 
tool everything she had but the result was absolutely nothing. A searching 
finger failed to find even a scratch. And she dismally recalled something 
Westley had said about it being a special type of steel. She tried again and 
again without result. 

Next she tried the pliers on the padlock. Another defeat. She then resorted 
to frantic hacking at the wire again. At the end of thirty minutes she 
disgustedly put the pliers in her bag and conceded Westley Wallace and his 
wire a total victory. She considered the police but they would ask questions 
she would not wish to answer and the embarrassment of what she would be 
forced to reveal to suspicious male eyes was an ordeal she could not face. 
What she needed was some special tool or something like that. She phoned 
airport but the last plane had gone for the evening, and anyway she doubted 
her ability to fight the enemy for the many hours of an Atlantic crossing. 
She could imagine the expression on the flight attendant's face if she 
should ask for help. by now the pain was intolerable. Flushed with shame, 
she returned to the restaurant to plead for mercy. Westley was sipping 
coffee and proved unexpectedly sympathetic. "You can't get it off," he said 
gently. "I'll except your parole if you're in the mood." 

Shame did not matter, nothing mattered expect to rid herself of the enemy. 
Looking at Westley, she repeated the ritualistic vow by which she renounced 
freedom, then accepted the tiny key. It was a painful walk to the 
restaurant's restroom where she unlocked the padlock and gratefully removed 
the wire from her tummy. There was a fiery agony as the wire peeled from her 
flesh but she tried not to cry. 

With the wire and padlock and key safely in her bag, Ginevera marched 
determinedly back to the table, refusing to consider how easy it might now 
be to run away. 

At bed time Westley was unusually tender in his caress. Playfully he removed 
her clothes, handcuffed her wrists and led her to the big mirror to admire 
the slender scarlet band created on her skin. Ginevera gasped when she saw 
the redness and knew the mark would be a few days in fading away. 

"It's truly beautiful," Westley assured her. "Thank you for compelling me to 
put it on. If you hadn't, that pretty belt might never have happened." 

Ginevera felt loved and was strangely content with escape safely behind her 
and the future only an ill-defined dream. When Westley unlocked the 
handcuffs to place them on the dresser, he told her, "Don't want these on 
you tonight." His slavegirl threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. 

That night, in the slavegirl's giving and her master's taking, they 
discovered a joy they had missed before. Both were happy. In the morning 
Ginevera performed her daily pledge of parole with more sincerity than ever 
before. And she did it without being asked. 

But had the happy couple guessed the events that day were to bring, they 
would have fled from danger. 

 CHAPTER TWO - Avon 

The whole thing was insane and I was old enough to know better. But when you 
love someone the way I love Grandma it's easy to find yourself between a 
rock and a hard place, that's how I came to Trinity Castle and the beautiful 
woman I was to know as Lady Alyth. Grandma and I discussed my six month 
sentence, the punishment she considered appropriate to my sin. 

"I do so want you to understand, dear." My Grandmother's voice was both 
troubled and tender. "We live in a world that has lost sight of right and 
wrong but I have never wanted you a part of it. As long as I live you never 
will be a part of it. You have been raised in decency, and I want you to 
tell me now you accept this punishment. I am sending you to Lady Alyth and 
Trinity Castle. It will do you so much good." 

"Grandma, I said I'll accept it. I will." 

Grandma nodded, pleased, but continued like an army on the march. "Lady 
Alyth is unconventional, dear child. You must go to Trinity without 
illusions. For instance, you will be as devoid of covering as all her other 
young ladies." 

"Yes, Grandma, you told me this." 

"The school you enter is totally feminine, nudity emphases that quality. You 
will also remain handcuffed throughout your sentence." 

"handcuffed for six months!" Right there I should have made a stand but I 
wasn't believing any of it. It was too much to be true. I was willing to 
believe I would not enjoy Trinity but was buoyed up a raging curiosity. I 
found a piquancy in being old and more mature than most of Lady Alyth's 
pupils. Lady Alyth may have been ten years old than I but certainly no more. 

"Dear Lady Alyth maintains a schedule by which all her girls are whipped 
once every two weeks." Grandma smiled at me with love. "I understand that 
function is by no means a flogging but simply a painful remainder to each 
girl of her condition and of the punishments she must bear should she rebel. 
I have talked with Lady Alyth about this so I can understand its 
implications. Can you understand them, Avon?" 

Once more I should have called a halt but if I was in for a penny, I might 
as well be in for a pound. And I was sure Grandma was making it sound worst 
then it was. So I simply told her I would got to Trinity, put in my time, 
and return at the end of six months still loving Grandma and determined to 
behave as the heiress to a vast fortune should. Gosh, how ridiculous can a 
girl be! 

I didn't go to Trinity, Trinity came to me in the form of a buxom woman with 
a steely eye and the skills to subdue any rebellious females. She was 
respectful, and just before I said goodbye and accompanied her to her car, 
she asked me to extend my hands. I did so in a state of disbelief to watch 
her encircle each of my wrists in a band of steel, joined by a single link. 
I twisted, turned and tugged at the metal bands in simple curiosity. I think 
the look I gave my Grandmother was one of pure shock. 

When it came to parting, I could not embrace the woman who's sentence I must 
now serve. But she hugged me and whispered over and over that I would find 
Trinity a wonderful experience and would return to her a better and wiser 
girl. We both shed tears. 

Seated in the car beside Radcliff, I looked at the passing scene and knew 
myself no longer a part of it. It was very strange to feel the handcuffs on 
my wrist, and I knew they were telling me of an imprisonment such as I had 
not believed possible. I held my steel-clad hands demurely in my lap while 
shame flushed my cheeks and caused my face to burn. By way of helping me 
over the first bridge, Radcliff struck a constructive note. 

"I have to admire you. Miss Adderly. What you're doing can't be a bit easy 
for a girl your age. Please don't bother to explain, I know the story." 

I rejected sulkiness and hurt. A friendly word was welcome and deserved 
response. "My Grandmother has told me a great deal about Trinity Castle," I 
said frankly. "She told my about these handcuffs but I don't think cither of 
us expected I'd wear them this soon. They make me feel terribly ashamed." 

"Of course, that's part of their purpose. Did your grandmother explain that 
you'd be whipped?" 

"Once ever two weeks, isn't it?" I tried to sound casual. 

"That's right, miss. And you won't be wearing clothes. You won't be wearing 
anything." 

"I understand I'm to be part of a group of girls all in the same condition. 
That we're kept prisoners without a chance to escape?" 

Radcliff actually smiled. "And are you aware, Miss Adderly, that few of the 
girls are volunteers the way you are obeying your grandmother? They come to 
us by way of different means." 

"You're telling me they were kidnapped?" 

"Lady Alyth prefers to use the word 'sequestered'. But, yes, they were 
snatched from their former life to become the prisoners of the woman rich 
enough to indulge her whims. It is usually Lady Alyth who will whip you." 

The passing scene diluted horror. Everything looked far too normal to make 
Trinity Castle credible. But just the same I shivered. Innocently I asked, 
"It sounds awful. They must be terribly unhappy?" 

"Not once they get adjusted. You'll see, Miss Adderly. Apart from the 
handcuffs and being naked, they lead a very plush life. So will you." by the 
time we reached the place which was to be my prison for the next six months, 
the metal has ceased to burn my wrists and the scarlet departed from my 
cheeks. Radcliff drove us into an underground garage, and that was the last 
I saw of the world. 

I will always be grateful for the sympathy I saw in the eyes of Miss Audrey 
Wingate. to who Radcliff delivered me with the air of a task well done. 

"I'm the junior mistress at Trinity," she offered. "And mostly the girls 
call me Audrey instead of Miss Wingate. I want you to call me Audrey, and 
after you've undressed I'll take you to meet the senior mistress. Miss 
Angela Prelate. You'll find her a bit stern and a lot older than I. Does 
this all seem hard to believe, dear?" 

"I feel like Alice in Wonderland. But don't the authorities, I mean the 
police, make a fuss?" 

Audrey was nice. I could tell right away. She was not much older than I and 
actually seemed embarrassed as she explained. "Lady Alyth has so much money, 
no body's going to complain or try to stop her. And none of the girls can 
complain because they really and truly are prisoners in a portion of the 
castle especially made over for the purpose. You'll be joining them there. 
And you mustn't start worrying about escape. You can't escape, none of them 
can. No girl every has escaped from Trinity Castle." She again smiled. "Now 
please let me have your hands." 

It was nice to be rid of the handcuffs. I shivered in distaste as my fingers 
explored where they had been. But there was no marks, no wound. 

They had left my wrists as virgin as before. The brand they had burned was 
in my mind. 

Audrey's voice was gentle, "And now your clothes, dear. Please take 
everything off." 

It was not that I hadn't been told, but was still the hardest task I had 
ever had to do. Audrey did not discretely turn away but stared expectantly 
in a manner to compel me to reach for the first of the fastenings by which I 
would bare my body for anyone in Trinity Castle to see. But steadfastly I 
completed an act which violated all the preconceptions of my life. With 
Audrey Wingate watching it wasn't a bit like having a bath or stealing an 
erotic peek in the mirror. Even with a girl as sweet as the one who watched, 
this baring of my body had something about it akin to rape. When I had made 
myself naked, I stared back, using all of my self control to avoid the urge 
to try and cover myself. 

Audrey invited with two open metal jaws and I found my hands reaching out 
for the steel. The wrists meekly placed themselves within the circlets and 
Audrey clicked them snugly shut. Trinity had me for sure now! 

"I know how you feel, dear, but this first embarrassment will pass. Tomorrow 
the shame will go away as you find yourself like all the other girls. What 
comes next will be bad for you but come along and let's get it over with." 

Miss Angela Prelate was busy lecturing her class of naked girl when we 
arrived. She stared at me as if angry at me for interrupting, while twenty 
more youthful pairs of eyes positively ate up my nakedness. Perhaps they 
were recalling the first time they shed their clothes. There were a couple 
of giggles that were instantly halted. 

"Welcome to Trinity, Miss Adderly." Miss Angela Prelate was delightfully 
formal. "You can take any empty seat, and join our class." She turned to the 
junior mistress, "Thank you, Miss Wingate, that will be all." 

It appeared there was nothing more to be said or done but for moments I 
stood in disarray while my chained hands sought and failed to find a place 
to hide. But under the compulsion of twenty-one pairs of eyes, I hurried to 
the nearest vacant seat. I had to fight down an instinct to flee. The seat 
was outrageously cold upon bare skin. 

When class was dismissed. Miss Prelate had no interest in me but the girls 
were wonderful, introducing me to the luxury in which they lived and warning 
me of pitfalls by which punishments were earned. All of them were serious in 
telling me to forget escape. 

When Radcliff chained my ankle at bedtime I would have been shamed had not 
all the other girls been similarly chained to their beds. I could tell it no 
longer bothered them any more than did the handcuffs. They talked a bit 
before drifting off to sleep. But in the darkness I lay in the narrow cot, 
hatefully conscious of the embrace of metal on my skin, and going over and 
over in my mind my memories of the outside world I would not behold again 
for six long months. 

Morning brought my introduction to routine. But in the late morning I was 
ordered to go and talk with a girl who would take me one step further from 
reality, and be an object lesson I should not forget. I was given directions 
to find her. Pandora's box would have been kid's stuff compared to what I 
found. 

She was naked. Her back was turned to reveal the scarlet imprints of a whip 
from shoulders to above her knees. She stood in the uncaring pose of 
weariness with raised arms and wrists tight strapped well above her head. As 
I walked softly into her line of vision I knew I had interrupted her 
thoughts. But her smile was curiously warm. Such was my first meeting with 
Miss Ginevera Anderson. 

To me this girl was a miracle in her acceptance of a condition I first saw 
only as torture until she explained she had just received the whipping each 
of us must bear once every second week. And since my initial introduction to 
the routine was to happen on the following day, I now understood the reason. 
I would now have twenty-four hours in which to avoid hysteria when the 
moment came. 

We questioned each other and answered each other until we were interrupted 
by an attractive man in a place where I had been assured no male was 
allowed. In confusion I fled back to Class to wonder about a girl who either 
had an incredible tolerance for pain or had become so accustomed to being 
whipped she endured each ordeal as simply "one of those things." The true 
beginning of my imprisonment at Trinity took place the following morning. 

The same place, the same horizontal bar above with the twin straps hanging 
motionless. I was escorted there by Audrey Wingate who said that since I had 
seen it yesterday there was no need for explanations and would I please 
stand beneath it and raise my arms. It was so damned matter-of-fact I could 
have screamed. 

Anyway you took Audrey Wingate, she was a sweetheart, and I came close to 
asking what she was doing in a place like this. But I was very much confused 
and simply did as I was told, and looked up as each strap circled a wrist 
and was buckled tight behind the bar. Audrey was strong and apologetically 
explained the Rule which said every stricture must be drawn as tight as 
possible. It was very tight indeed to tell me most clearly I could not free 
myself, and to make me aware of a terrible vulnerability in standing thus 
exposed. 

"It's much the best position, dear," Audrey explained helpfully. "It makes 
all of you available to the whip and whatever bits a mistress may wish to 
punish." She shrugged. "I'm terribly sorry, dear, but you'll come through 
okay. I have to leave you now but don't be bothered if you have to wait a 
while, you won't be forgotten." 

She was right, I waited a while. Quite a long while. Until rewarded by my 
first meeting with Lady Alyth Hardcastle. She immediately came across as a 
woman used to being obeyed and exercising power over others. But there was 
also an instinctive affection there, too, as often happens between girls. 
She wasted neither words nor motions but enfolded me in her arms, thrusting 
breasts against me. It seemed as natural as was her kiss upon my lips. I 
instantly felt that anything this woman did had to be right. 

"My mother and your grandmother grew up together," she whispered in my ear. 
"Your grandmother has always been sweet to me and I'm glad she's sent you 
here. I feel close to you already and I'm glad you're not a child." 

She stood back while we exchanged banalities. "You've been told all you need 
to know," she said at last. "I won't bore you by repeating the Rules. You do 
understand I'm going to whip you now?" 

"Yes, I know. I'm shivering and I'm frightened. And I don't understand this 
business of being whipped. I wish I did." 

Lady Alyth's laugh was the tinkling of silver bells. "Darling, it's so very 
simple and I refuse to be ashamed of it." Once more she held my nakedness 
close. "I simply love whipping naked girls. So my girls have to put up with 
it whether they like it or not. There's enough of you so that once every two 
weeks works out well. It means one or two of you will receive my lash each 
day." 

I could not help but share her smile, it was infectious. But there was 
nothing ugly about this glorious creature who bestowed affection before 
pain. I knew myself in a trance and held myself as from a distance saying, 
"If it gives you so much pleasure, I'll try and not be silly about how I 
behave." Ruefully, I added, "I don't suppose I'll behave very well." 

Never in my life had I been whipped. I had no background of experience on 
which to call for help or draw comparisons. I had approached what I must now 
endure with a tongue in cheek conviction that it would never happen at all 
or be a discomfort at worst. When Lady Alyth disappeared behind my back, I 
closed my eyes and clenched my teeth just in case it turned out worse than 
expected. Holly cow! Was I an innocent! 

The stroke across my bare shoulders was so much worse than anything I had 
dreamed that I tensed in shock. It burned! It was much more than mere 
burning but there aren't words to adequately describe the pain. The first 
one or two are always difficult for a new girl, but they're not half as bad 
as you think they are or could be. Lady Alyth kissed the wound she had 
planted upon my skin before adding cheerfully, "We will now continue." 

We continued for sure. I managed not to scream and the second and third 
blows impacted bare skin. I remember my breasts heaving as I gasped and 
kicked uselessly. The straps held me as thought I was a child. When the 
leather impacted its sixth kiss, I could hold my tongue no longer. "I'm 
sorry, Lady Alyth, but I can't stand this. I absolutely take any more. 
Please stop." 

She did not answer with words but her fingertips explored the burning lines 
upon my skin. 

"Every girl says what you've just said. You did well to reach six before 
coming out with it. You can stand it very well and we've only fourteen more 
to go." 

"Fourteen! At that moment it might have been a hundred. In a purely animal 
revolt I flung myself against the leather straps confining my wrists and 
generally made an ass of myself with what kicking and jerking motions I 
could manage. There were also statements and pleadings I look back upon with 
shame. In the end I stood gasping and completely helpless as Lady Alyth 
swung the whip and picked up the count. Each stroke across my flesh drove 
all other thoughts out of my mind save the pain. Right then I did not 
believe I would or could come to accept twenty strokes every fortnight. 

I collected my twenty, the punishment Lady Alyth always referred to as 
"Trinity's routine reminder." When they were done and I was kissed, I really 
felt surprised and cheated that I had not died. Or at least lost 
consciousness. I had never been more keenly alive or aware of myself as at 
that moment. Lady Alyth stood back to survey my figure, still holding that 
awful whip. She actually laughed. 

"You see, darling, you're not dead! And you're not bleeding. And I'll wager 
you never felt better in your life." 

I had no reply. Perhaps a moan or two which were probably now of 
thankfulness rather than of pain. I hung in my strapped wrists, not caring 
about anything. 

"We usually leave our girls hanging for a while after being whipped," she 
said as it speaking of some trivial domestic routine. "Standing the way you 
are now gives a girl time to collect herself and do a bit of thinking. 
She'll also realize the punishment was not as bad as she thought it was 
while it was happening. I really ought to leave you to stand like that, but 
since I'm a friend of your family and you came to me on a voluntary basis, 
I'm going to invite you to tea." 

It was all very funny but I had no wish to laugh. In fact, I wanted that cup 
of tea so bad I was actually feeling joy at the idea. As the leather bands 
were unbuckled, my arms fell limply to my sides. Lady Alyth gathered my once 
more in loving arms. This was my introduction to Lady Alyth Hardcastle, a 
noblewoman who enjoyed whipping girls and maintained a stable of them for 
that purpose. Now, for six months, I was to be one of them! 

We had our tea in Lady Alyth's office, and I lifted the cup to my lips with 
both hands because her Ladyship had once more locked handcuffs upon my 
wrists. I had, by no means, become accustomed to this restraint. But, 
perhaps in time? 

"I'm curious about you, Avon, and what you expected to find here at Trinity 
Castle. Please tell me, don't be shy." Lady Alyth beamed at me across the 
desk. 

"I did something my Grandma considered very sinful. She felt that I had to 
be punished. She gave me my choice of being disinherited or coming here." I 
shrugged. "It was a messy affair with a man and I was disgusted enough with 
myself that some sort of punishment seemed in order. And, anyway, I love my 
grandmother. So here I am. I've been here a couple of days and I've already 
been chained and whipped." I managed a small smile. "Is this par for the 
course?" 

"Yes, dear, it's the same for every girl. But now, if you don't break any of 
our rules, it's a whole two weeks before it's your turn again. Your 
grandmother wants me to treat you the same as all the other so you won't be 
getting special privileges, unless, of course, I want you to share tea with 
me, like now." Lady Alyth's eyes twinkled. "After all, I do own the place. I 
can do what I like with any of you. I've been called both a saint and a 
sadist. But either way, it's been tremendous fun!" 

"Must I take the Class seriously? I'm passed the age for school, and I don't 
think Miss Angela Prelate approves of me." 

"You're better off in the Class than in a cell, dear. I can't have you 
wandering around Trinity Castle aimlessly. I can keep track of the girls by 
simple confinement. Now, Avon dear, if you're a bit uncertain, would you 
like to be placed in a cell for a day or two instead of being placed in the 
Class? I can't imagine that you'll enjoy it. But I never cease to wonder how 
different girls can be." Lady Alyth busied herself with the tea things. "I 
have a daughter, you've met her, name's Erin. She's a pure delight and loves 
this whole creation of mine. She can't get enough of it. The girls adore her 
and so do I. So, if you would like to try the cell for a couple of days, 
I'll put Erin in there with you for the first day and night, so you won't be 
morbid. Would you like that?" 

"Are you sure you're not being kind to me because of Grandma?" 

"I'm not being kind at all. Being locked in a cell isn't much fun for 
anyone. But at least it doesn't hurt. Want to try tomorrow?" 

"Yes, please." 

"Well, that looks after that. Now I'm sure you have other questions." 

I had a hundred questions but most of them sounded silly even to me, as 
though I was complaining or a masochist seeking pain. I tried the most 
obvious. "I'm told it's impossible to escape from this place. Is that true? 
Has no girl ever managed to get away?" 

"It's very true indeed, dear. Try it yourself. In these two days have you 
seen an opportunity?" 

I shrugged that one off. I was going to be a prisoner for six months and 
that was that. I tried the second on my list. "You've spoken of breaking the 
rules and being punished accordingly, Lady Alyth. I don't want to be 
punished. That is not corporal punishment. Would you mind telling me what 
type of punishments that is? I mean, is the whipping the only punishment?" 

Lady Alyth smiled. "You'll find out if your disobey the rules," was all she 
would say. 

After a sip of tea, she added, "Don't forget Trinity Castle will not 
tolerate sulkiness or pouting." Then added, "A serious attempt at escape 
will earn your the worst punishment." 

From the silence that followed, I guessed that was all she would say on that 
subject. I was to find out later that caning the palms of our hands was a 
favorite. Even caning the bottoms of a girl's feet was included in the 
Trinity list of punishments. And there were others, even more terrible. One 
day was to turn a corner and find a girl gagged and tied viciously to a 
post, with whip marks crisscrossing her large breasts. But that was a little 
in the future. 

I tried another subject. "How about Audrey Wingate? Is she a pupil or one of 
the guard? Is she subject to punishment the same as the rest of us?" 

"Darling, they are called mistresses. Angela Prelate is the senior mistress 
and Audrey Wingate is the junior. They have my full confidence and can both 
assign punishments to you for breaking the rules." 

I had to be content with that. There was another subject, one I was a little 
hesitant to bring up. "With a group of young, healthy girls such as you 
keep, you can't ignore the subject of ... well, sex. I guess there's no men 
around-at least most of the time. There was that Westley Wallace but he's 
married. There could be some of the girls who just have to find some outlet 
for the sexual urge? I mean...." I didn't want to tell her that lesbian sex 
was the real reason I was there. 

"I guess the girls do get horny," she chuckled. "It's only natural. I'll 
admit I don't make a practice of being inquisitive about what goes on in the 
dorm. I have suspicions some of the girls have formed lesbian relationships. 
I am not a lesbian myself but I do realize the need for an outlet, a sexual 
outlet for the young women here. It's simply a subject I don't care for so 
as far as I'm concerned it doesn't exist. But there is my nephew, Westley. 
He's heavily involved with someone at the moment but Westley is my heir and 
will someday own all of Trinity Castle. I'm afraid I've granted him a great 
deal of freedom, including access to the girls. He's rather thinks of it 
like a private harem in which he can pick a different girl each night. I see 
no harm in this, it seems to be good for all concerned. I've told the dear 
boy to spread his favors around and not stick with one girl. That is, except 
for the girl he is presently involved with. Ginevera has been my favorite 
girl for some time but that is a story I won't bore you with. I do wish you 
were here permanently, Avon dear, I think after you've been trained in 
Trinity ways you could take her place. But this is for the future and we 
won't worry about it now. I think best you go and join the other girl at 
lunch." 

If ever a girl was baffled and bewildered, it was I. I made my way through 
the stone passages after being dismissed from Lady Alyth's presence. Since I 
had been under Lady Alyth's supervision, I was not questioned about being 
late, although Miss Prelate insisted upon an examination of the whip marks I 
was beginning to wear with pride. Everything was crazy and, as far as I was 
concerned at the moment, I was content to leave it that way. Carefully I 
watched how the other girls handled knife and fork with chained hands. 

I spent the first ten days of my imprisonment absorbing female gossip, which 
turned out to be more colorful and diverse than I would ever have suspected 
from young women. They took me far deeper into the affairs of Trinity then 
Lady Alyth. The most informative was Lady Alyth's own daughter, who had 
happily spent twenty-four hours with me in a cell, our wrists handcuffed, 
our ankles chained, and locked around our necks an iron collar. When Erin 
was taken from me on the second day, I found myself in a cage of bars and 
stone in a quite shocking loneliness and silence. If I walked across my 
small prison, the clatter of the leg irons seemed almost indecently loud. 
What I principally learned from this solitary confinement was that Lady 
Alyth was absolutely right. Being locked and chained in a cell and being 
left alone was no fun. 

My most vivid impression were of the Class where I rapidly discovered Miss 
Prelate did not share my conviction of being too old for such nonsense. Miss 
Prelate took her class seriously. When my inattention was made evident by 
pointed questions I was politely requested to leave my desk and stand before 
the class in evident disgrace. I was read a formal lecture which was as much 
for the other girl's benefit as mine, then told to hold out my hand, palm 
up, to receive the cane. That request left me staring at her in blank 
dismay, until I was crisply informed that the longer I took to obey the 
order, the more severe my punishment would be. My cheeks on fire, I extended 
an unwilling arm. I felt a fool and shocking afraid. 

It was, of course, quite painful. My hands had never been caned any more 
than my back had been whipped. It was surprising how much burning pain a 
small yellow cane can inflict upon one's soft palm. I squealed and bend 
over. 

Miss Prelate allowed several moments to pass before uttering, "This time, 
Avon, I wish you to kneel. There is no symbolism in the act, it simply 
enables me to deliver a more accurate stroke. Kneel and extend your other 
hand." 

I could scarcely believe my ears. Surely I had suffered enough for so 
trivial an offense. I look Miss Prelate in the eye to say, "I simply can't." 
I could positively feel the sensation my declaration sent through the room. 
Miss Prelate's voice was ice. 

"Hogwash, Avon. I had intended to give you two strokes on each palm. For 
this impertinence you will receive three. On your knees and extend your 
hand." 

There was a force in the woman I could not resist. And behind her was all 
the power of Trinity, itself. Suddenly I was kneeling to perform the task. I 
looked up and begged, "Please, not so hard. Miss Prelate. Please, not so 
hard." 

It was every bit as hard, perhaps harder due to the wider arc the cane could 
make before hitting my hand. I could not suppress my cry of pain as I knelt 
before the class, hugging both hands between my legs. After a brief period, 
the senior mistress of Trinity said, without emotion, "Since you appear to 
find this difficult, Avon, and because you are new to our rules, you may 
receive your other four strokes upon your bottom. Stand and touch your 
toes." 

What a hell of a choice for a girl to have to make! I think it was partly 
the shame and humiliation of bending over and having your bottom and pussy 
protrude behind you towards the class. The four strokes were cruel and hurt 
but weren't as bad as the whip had been upon my back just a short time 
before. I dabbed at the tears I could not control when it was over. I 
thought of flight to Lady Alyth but remembered her statement that she never 
interfered. If I had made such an error, I could well believe Miss Prelate 
would have me flogged. 

For the rest of that day my hands were sore as was my bottom. The girls 
sympathized and told me of their own misadventures with the cane but I could 
not help realizing my hurt palms and bitter shame was no big deal. In the 
days that followed I came to the bitter realization of paying more attention 
to what Miss Prelate had to say than I had done before. It was during this 
time I was again summoned to Lady Alyth's office. "Miss Prelate tells me she 
had occasion to give you strokes of the cane on your hands, dear. I am sure 
you enjoyed it, but I am also sure you found it trying. Do your hands still 
hurt?" 

"They still hurt some. Please, Lady Alyth, don't allow that to be done to me 
again. It was awful beyond words." 

"It will be done to you again if you're bad. But you're a sensible girl. 
Come, let me give you a great, big hug." 

Once again I was at sea in a mixture of emotions. Lady Alyth's arms were 
comforting but it was an embrace I could not return. My cuffed hands hung 
limply before my sex as my nakedness was squeezed and kissed. Her next words 
caused me only fresh concern. 

"I have two girls to be whipped today, Avon, and I think you deserve a 
little diversion. Something to make you forget the shame I know you feel. I 
want you to come with me to where they are being prepared. And I want you to 
watch the manner in which they accept the pain. These are two young women 
who have adjusted admirably to Trinity and I am proud of them. Come along, 
dear, I want to take off your handcuffs. But there is one other little 
precaution I must take." 

I followed the woman who I now thought of as my mistress to the room of 
memories. The little precaution turned out to be a collar locked around my 
neck and from it a short chain to the wall so I must stand and watch what 
was to befall the two girls. With a quickening pulse, I leaned back against 
the wall. I knew my chain and collar would hold firmly and did not bother to 
test them with tugs. Once again, Lady Alyth's magic had captured my 
imagination to compel my innocent interest in what was taking place. 

They were two beautiful girls I had talked to the day before. They had 
spoken of their coming ordeal casually. They now stood ten feet apart, their 
hands raised to the horizontal bar to which their wrists had been strapped 
tight, to expose them totally to Lady Alyth. They had been well trained and 
were docile to a point I never expected to obtain. Their simply request 
clutched at the heart to tell the pathway of pain I was expected to follow. 
I held my breath as the girl who was first to accept her punishment said, 
"Please whip me, Lady Alyth. Please whip me up and down my back." 

Lady Alyth did exactly that. 

I realized I was watching a formula repeated everyday. If there was a fire 
in her ladyship's loins, it was appeased daily by this total possession of a 
girl. I felt each blow as they fell upon the innocent, naked back of the 
girl who had done no wrong. All of them had told me that their only offense 
was to be a girl and to possess a beautiful body to arouse the noblewoman's 
lust. For this they were condemned to chains and slavery for life. They had 
spoken in awe of Lady Alyth making a present of a girl to someone to whom 
she felt a debt, an obligation, or simply an affection. Such girls 
disappeared from Trinity and did not return. It was the wish of all of them 
to thus be given. The main reason, I gathered, was the hope that such giving 
would lead them to enslavement to a man. Or, if they were lesbians, to a 
woman who would keep them safe and secure and greatly privileged while 
engaging in nightly sexual activities. 

I am ashamed now to tell of the erotic joy I discovered in watching these 
two girls being whipped. True, there was nothing I could do about it, I had 
to stand against the wall. But it was still a highly erotic scene, made even 
more so when Lady Alyth, herself, stripped to reveal her own beauty. I 
winced with ever stroke and shared the maiden anguish of their flesh. 
Sometimes they caught my eye and tried to smile, but never did they scream 
or make complaint. They accepted their twenty strokes with only gasps and 
moans. It was never a slow or easy punishment and I had the feeling Lady 
Alyth was drawing it out for my sake. When it was done I was left to stand, 
chained to the wall, in company with the two whipped girls. 

Chained by my neck to the wall, I stood there like a dummy while the two 
whipped beauties panted their way back into the world. At least I knew how 
it felt so we had that in common. 

"We try not to scream," said one of them in apology. "It's such a horrible 
sound. Isn't Lady Alyth wonderful?" 

"She'd never whip us harder then we can handle," offered the other. "We feel 
safe with her because she's so very wise and clever. If Miss Prelate whipped 
me twice a month, I think I would die." 

"We have to stand here like this for quite a while now," said the first 
girl. "I expect you'll have to stand there, too. But at least you won't be 
hurting. Your marks are fading nicely from the first time you were whipped, 
and it will be at least a week before you get another. Lady Alyth gets so 
much pleasure out of whipping us, I almost feel the pain is worth while. Is 
that how it was with you?" 

That was exactly how I had felt. I told them so and shared their grins, 
buddies with whom I had passed through travail. Still curious, I asked, 
"There's all these things around the walls, these frames and instruments. 
What's a girl have to do to get herself fastened in one of them?" 

"Oh, you mean the stocks and pillory and the rack. Every girl gets them 
sometime. But mostly because she's been whipped enough that Lady Alyth 
doesn't consider it wise to whip her anymore. I'd a lot sooner have the 
twenty strokes then stand in that damn pillory all day. After the first hour 
you know for sure you can't bear it anymore but it goes on and on and on." 
She laughed humorlessly. "It's pretty much the same with all of those 
horrible things. Stay away from them if you possibly can." 

I should have left well enough alone but I was in the grip of an erotic 
curiosity. "I was told one of the bunch got the soles of her feet whipped," 
I said. "She couldn't possibly stand still for it so I suppose there's some 
way she's fastened. Is it one of these things here?" 

"Of course it is, silly. They simply use the stocks. They set her on the 
bench, make her put her ankles inside the holes provided, and then lower the 
yoke so she couldn't move her feet to save her life. The whole affair is 
then padlocked so she hasn't a hope of getting free and has to sit there and 
look at the place where her ankles are held tight and beyond which her feet 
have disappeared. When they whip her soles, she can't do a thing expect sit 
or throw herself around while she watches what's happening to her feet. 
Look, Avon, do anything you must to avoid this one. It's just too wicked. 
They call it the bastinado." 

Foolishly I felt myself immune from such horrors because, after all, Lady 
Alyth was a friend of grandmother's and I was sort of family. Lady Alyth 
would never do such things to me. But I'm ashamed to admit this punishment 
of girls was imposing a greater and greater fascination I could not control. 
Innocently I asked, "What about the rack?" 

"Well, you know what that is, surely. Your wrists are fastened at one end 
and your ankles at the other. The big wheel they turn, which pulls them in 
opposite directions. Trinity doesn't take it far enough to break bones or 
tear muscles but they stretched you out to flatten your breasts and your 
belly so you're hardly a girl. Your wrists and ankles are quite sure you're 
going to die. If they leave you like that long enough you finally wish you 
could." 

Number two laughed at my obvious dismay. "Don't worry, darling, none of this 
has to happen to you. Just watch your behavior and be polite to Miss 
Prelate. She's the one who puts you in stuff like this. 

Unfortunately I simply could not shut up. I was impelled to know what the 
future might come. "They brand girls, don't they? And hang them by their 
thumbs? Surely that doesn't happen?" 

Their laughter was hearty. "Of course it does, silly. If you look closely at 
some of the girls, you'll see the marks. Hanging is the sort of thing they 
don't want to talk about but I expect they'll tell you if you ask. Hanging 
by your thumbs doesn't leave much marks but it sure does put an imprint in 
your mind." 

"Are you a student of the Spanish Inquisition," asked the other, "or are you 
expecting to get it all? You'll go home after six months so I would think 
you're quite safe. Stop torturing yourself." They were so sweet. They had 
suffered intense agony while all I was forced to do was watch. They were 
concerned that I should avoid the implements of torture around the room, 
quoting Miss Prelate as my enemy because they were quite sure Lady Alyth 
would use none of these things on a girl related to someone she held in high 
esteem. I saw them as two sweethearts I longed to help. But there was no way 
I could release their strapped wrists or unlock the collar from my neck. We 
talked a lot, mostly my questions and their answers. We admired each other's 
breasts and narrow waists, together with chuckled about men we had known. 
They told me about the manner of their kidnap. And of their agonies of 
adaptation to Trinity. But each insisted they were happy now, seeing the 
Class as their principle punishment but enjoying all the rest. 

They were slaves owned by a beautiful woman who would never let them go. 
They accepted that and loved it. 

In this chronicle of the things Trinity did to me I must certainly include 
the visit of my grandmother to Lady Alyth and myself. That Lady Elizabeth 
Pankhurst should thus honor Trinity was distinctly an occasion, a time for a 
girl prisoner to learn the rules by heart and recite them on demand. Lady 
Alyth was obviously pleased to a degree which told me of her affection for 
my grandmother. I was informed of the impending visit well before it was 
scheduled to take place and spend the waiting speculating as to what I would 
say and how I would behave. But in this, Lady Alyth was well ahead of me, so 
I was giving no chance to speculate about anything, and come to realize all 
I had to do was be obedient. That was what Grandma would most wish to see, a 
granddaughter who had become obedient and docile beneath authority. Lady 
Alyth had left me with no doubt as to how I should act. 

"You can be delightfully docile," she told me earnestly. "And that's your 
cue. I'll arrange things so your grandma will feel sure she's got a 
granddaughter on the straight and narrow path." She paused to look at me 
searchingly. "Or are you going to implore her to take you home, that Trinity 
is just too much?" 

Strangely, I had not thought of that. I was pledge to my six months 
imprisonment with whatever sufferings it might entail. I knew this is what 
my grandmother desired and would not cheat her from this wish. I had seen 
myself as fully clothed and without the handcuffs, sharing tea with 
grandmother and Lady Alyth in the lounge in an atmosphere of quite normalcy. 
I could not have been farther from the truth, because an hour before she was 
due to arrive, I was inserted within a cell to be in chains, hand and foot, 
and to remain completely naked with a collar locked upon my neck and a 
length of chain fastening me to the wall. I came close to tears in realizing 
my impotence. I sat in my chains upon the hard bench to reflect that in the 
coming interview I couldn't possibly win-I was a slavegirl serving my time 
in Trinity, and in this context I must be viewed. 

It was pure heartbreak. There was the old lady I adored beyond the bars, 
peering in at me as if I were an unusual specimen in a zoo. With her stood 
Lady Alyth in the silence of complete authority. My grandmother examined my 
chained nakedness a long while before she spoke. "Darling, I want your 
happiness so much. Are you discovering this is the path to it? Please tell 
me the truth." 

I told her the truth, simply saying, "Yes, Grandma, Lady Alyth has been very 
kind. The way you see me now is the way by which I've come to realize how 
stupid I was when I was free. Please don't worry about me, I am very happy." 

"But, Avon, dear girl, this cell ... these chains...." 

"They are part of my training. Grandma." I turned to reveal my back with the 
whip marks. "You see I have been punished and I deserved whip. You knew me 
better than I knew myself." 

Looking back I see myself as an outrageous hypocrite. I must have made an 
astonishing picture, chained and naked inside that cage. And to profess 
pleasure at this punishment was indeed stretching it a bit. Lady Alyth 
refused to catch my eye but Grandma was hearing from my lips the words she 
most desired. I lied deliberately, comforting myself with the thought that 
six months is not forever. What I wanted to do and perhaps should have done 
was to fight my chains in anger and plead forgiveness; The chains by which I 
was fastened would have made a dramatic noise for such a performance. 
Grandma would have been shown my whipped back with all the moaning and 
protests of incredible suffering I could muster up. She would have taken me 
home and Lady Alyth would have let me go. Perhaps this is what I should have 
done but the two women looking at me through the bars exerted upon me a 
profound effect. So there I stood, a naughty girl, suffering her punishments 
and grateful for this cleansing of her sins. Oh, shit! 

We stood and stared through the bars until I began to feel silly and become 
conscious of a blush. Grandma had never seen me naked, quite probably she 
had never seen any woman naked, and I wondered what she must be thinking of 
the vision she beheld. It would have been nice if I could have reached out 
and touched her hand. We might have kissed and unlocked a treasure house of 
words embarrassment now denied. But the chain from my collar snubbed me 
short to make me a remote figure undergoing a punishment I had just 
acknowledged as well deserved. Lady Alyth said nothing and it was my 
grandmother who finally exclaimed, "But, my darling girl, are you sure 
everything is truly all right? You seem so ... well, so ... so punished." 
She turned to Lady Alyth. "My dear, are you sure Avon is really all right? 
Is she truly a model prisoner? I've never seen her like this before and it's 
all so strange." 

I suspect Lady Alyth had been awaiting this cue. Smiling in her assurance of 
authority, she patted Grandma's shoulder reassuringly and then unlocked the 
door to my cell. My heart leaped in thankfulness but there was even more to 
come. She knelt and took the leg irons from my ankles, and then took the 
chain from my collar, but left the collar and my wrists in their handcuffs. 
When she stepped back and motioned to the open door, I wore only the Trinity 
handcuffs, which I lifted over Grandma's head to give her the hug I had 
longed to give. When I finally stood demurely to await direction, my cuffed 
hands, as usual, seeking a hiding place they could not find, I think we all 
felt better. And I could tell my grandmother was reassured and no doubt felt 
she had me on the proper path to virtue. Lady Alyth led us upstairs to tea. 

The British have a Thing about their Tea. The trolley with its pot of 
steaming brew and its little plates of sandwiches and cookies got 
grandmother back on track with a normalcy in which she felt in home. My 
chained hands now had something to do in filling the cups. I knelt before 
each to hand them the cups of steaming tea. When I had served the 
sandwiches, I knelt before them with my own cup and saucer. Everything was 
cozy indeed. 

Grandmother was now beginning to view my nakedness without being upset. I am 
sure that I was quite a picture with my hands cuffed and the collar still 
around my neck. I think the old woman finally began to enjoy my nudity. In 
fact, she seemed fascinated with my breasts. She turned to our hostess, "I 
suppose you keep the collar on the dear girl's neck as a matter of 
convenience?" 

"Of course, it makes it easy to attach her to any handy ring. Just the click 
of a padlock and the deed is done. It's a constant reminder of 
imprisonment." 

I was actually enjoying myself. 

Grandma's visit welded me to Trinity and Lady Alyth more than before. My 
aged relative had departed so pleased and so convinced of the lightness of 
my imprisonment, that is would hurt her bitterly if I changed my attitude. 
My attitude was about the only thing I could change because Lady Alyth kept 
me handcuffed and naked by day, and added a chain upon my ankle ever night. 
The girls were right, none of us would ever escape. 

I was now more often invited to her Ladyship's office for tea and was told 
to drop the title and address her by her name. But I never did feel 
comfortable calling her Alyth. We were not equals and I preferred to address 
her as Lady Alyth. When I was called from Class to attend these little teas, 
I could not fail to feel Miss Prelate's disapproval. Lady Alyth was aware of 
it but laughingly said there was nothing the old sour-puss could do, and if 
I ever got punished because of it, I must let her know. In this growing 
relationship, I wondered if she might one day take the handcuffs from my 
wrist. by this time I had become aware of the duties of Audrey Wingate as 
she took the Class whenever Miss Prelate found herself otherwise engaged. 
She had her own office and was accessible therein to any girl who wanted to 
see her. She always did her best to cheer us up but frankly admitted her 
lack of real authority and the need to consult Miss Prelate on any important 
decision. She was permitted to punish us but if that ran to more than five 
strokes, she had to refer that to the senior mistress. 

I picked up from the others their wishful thought that if Audrey Wingate was 
properly handled, she could provide an avenue for escape. A number of them 
that made this breathless approach but found the subject a definite no-no. 
They were not punished but were told severely never to mention it again. 
Miss Wingate was solidly on Trinity's side. 

The second Trinity correction came and went to leave me with an additional 
feeling of belonging and a closer feeling to Lady Alyth. There is a strange 
bond between she who punishes and she who is punished. It is psychological 
and I can't explain but it is real. In my case I had to believe it was Lady 
Alyth's personality which brought this about. But nonetheless I approached 
my second session with the whip in a state of fear. The first time had been 
a shock from which I had not yet recovered. I knew, of course, the results 
were never fatal and all the girls had adjusted to what they could not 
avoid. Presumedly I would be the same. But as I stood naked before the 
horizontal bar and raised my arms to the waiting straps, I had to wonder 
about this slavish obedience in which men go to the gallows or girls to 
their whippings. Surely we should fight with all our strength but somehow 
the condemned accept their punishment. In my case, I suppose I was aware of 
a total inability to run away or escape. I have been told before of 
additional strokes for those who revolted and it just seemed automatic that 
I should wish to avoid them. 

I was whipped in exactly the same manner as before but Trinity had robbed me 
of the shock so all I now had to cope with was the pain. Having suffered it 
before, and because of my increasing intimacy with the woman who plied the 
whip, I reached my twentieth stroke without making much of a fool of myself. 
The panting and moaning were still there, of course, but I had not screamed. 
When it was done I was hugged and kissed and told how wonderful I was in 
taking it so well, a fact I was quite willing to believe. This time I was 
not taken up for tea but left in the custody of the straps for an hour in 
which to think upon my humility. 

That afternoon, while my back was still a flaming testament to Trinity's 
system of biweekly whippings, I was summoned to the office of Miss Audrey 
Wingate to find her flushed and angry and obviously frightened beneath the 
stern and forbidden gaze of the senior mistress. Miss Prelate had preempted 
Audrey's chair behind her desk, forcing her to stand as if in judgment. 
Something was terribly, terribly wrong! 

Any girl who has been in Trinity long enough comes to recognize a cycle of 
small horror seemingly dependent upon Miss Angela Prelate's disposition. We 
supposed they were triggered by the fatal time of the month. And that turned 
to vicious punishments for the female prisoners of Trinity. As Audrey and I 
stood before the desk, we shared a terrible premonition. 

The concept was terribly simple and so false. We heard it's venom with 
tummy's churning in dismay, our minds turmoils of denials which went 
unheard. We were told in Miss Prelate's cold, hard voice of my plan to 
enlist Audrey's aid in a duel escape, a plan Miss Wingate had agreed to and 
was about to begin. We stood in shock as the bitter sentences dripped their 
poison from a woman's tongue. We were given no opportunity to deny or 
refute. No one of the three of us had illusions as to what was taking place. 
The authority vested in Miss Angela Prelate allowed her to frame us at will 
and get away with it. Our protests were vehement as she pressed the buzzer 
on Audrey's desk. When Radcliff and a fellow guard appeared we knew we were 
in trouble up to here. 

I'm sure the guards had seen it all before, for them authority was authority 
and their course was clear. They handcuffed Audrey's wrists behind her back 
to match mine, and inquired if there was any other service they could 
perform. Once more we were victims of a relentless hatred. Miss Prelate 
glared at me before coming out with, "I trust you two young women are 
prepared to be obedient through your forth coming punishment." Miss Prelate 
paused to savory the moment. "Should you feel indisposed to reason, I will 
order those two to handle you by force. What is it to be?" 

Audrey and I looked at each other unhappily but there was never any doubt as 
to what was best. Obedience would be bad enough but to be manhandled was an 
indignity we could do without out. Shamefully we gave our promise to obey. 

Our journey to the class room was a punishment in itself. Neither of us knew 
why we were taken there or what was to happen. I was still terribly 
conscious of the caning of my palms and of the fact my feet had not been 
punished upon the soles. But it was a quite different thing we had to face. 
We were marched before an attentive class were we were positioned to one 
side and told to stand still. Miss Wingate was less fortunate and I could 
easily believe the senior mistress' cruelty was pointed at her rather than 
at myself. 

Miss Prelate's voice was cold. "Kindly strip naked, Miss Wingate. Come here 
and I'll unlock those cuffs." 

The junior mistress made no demure. She turned her back that her hands could 
be free, then undressed before us all without undue speed or delay. When she 
was as nude as nude can be, she stood to face twenty breathless young women 
who knew better what to expect than I. 

"Miss Wingate has behaved disgracefully," intoned Angela Prelate. "She has 
accepted and will receive an adequate punishment." The senior mistress 
paused for effect. "But I will warn you now, there will be no unseemly 
noises from the class. None of your will giggle, none of yon will protest. 
And tomorrow you will accord Miss Wingate the same respect as yesterday. 
What you see this afternoon is merely an incident in Miss Wingate's career, 
a career I'm sure all of us wish her well in." 

It was one of those times a girl longed to scream. Miss Prelate turned her 
naked victim around to handcuff the unresisting wrists with a precision I 
could easily tell made the chrome circlets far too tight. She pushed a 
wooden box against the wall and, as though the act had been rehearsed, Miss 
Audrey Wingate stood upon it with her back to the class and reached up above 
her head to slip her handcuffs over and into a waiting hook. When this was 
done the box was kicked aside to leave a nude girl standing on her toes to 
await what she guessed was about to come. It occurred to me at that moment 
that the victim had a truly lovely figure with firm, large breasts that were 
now pressed hard against the wall. Needless to say, her bottom was thrust 
out behind in perfect position to receive the cane. 

Miss Wingate did not look back but kept her eyes riveted upon the wall. 
Angela Prelate now possessed herself of a cane, flexing it delightedly back 
and forth for the class to observe. Looking at the rapt, attentive faces I 
beheld those who were prepared to enjoy the feast of anguish soon to come 
and some who looked as is they might share that anguish. Here and there a 
sympathetic smile came in my direction to tell all too clearly my turn would 
come. 

"I am about to begin," Miss Prelate said grandly. "I command all of you to 
watch and thus be properly educated as to the wages of sin." The cane cut 
the air with a shocking whine. 

Miss Audrey Wingate was well and truly thrashed by a steady succession of 
blows. When one cheek proclaimed itself unfairly favored, Miss Prelate moved 
to the opposite side to correct the balance. The twin rounds went from white 
to red and then to scarlet which, in its turn, slowly gave way to wicked 
purple. The punished young woman with her hands held high and the steel 
cuffs biting at her wrists did her best to keep still and make no sound but 
as Angela Prelate continued punishing the tender flesh, Audrey moved from 
foot to foot, sometimes kicking at the air, and striving to move the target 
of the cane. Miss Wingate moaned steadily but did not scream. It was a long 
time before blood began to fleck the puffed and wicked weals. But when it 
did. Miss Prelate put away the cane and directed her class to learn a lesson 
from what they had beheld. To the punished girl she added, "You will stand 
as you are, Audrey Wingate, as an added lesson to all." 

The rest of Audrey's punishment was a bizarre horror, a tableau of cruelty 
to delight the Spanish Inquisition at its worst. I stood there wishing the 
floor would swallow me up while sometimes Audrey stole a glance in my 
direction and tried to smile. The darkening, punished flesh of her bottom 
must have been a constant anguish while the steel cuffs added a distress she 
tried constantly to lessen by stretching on tip toes in a painful effort. I 
am sure that for Miss Angela Prelate it had been a deeply satisfying 
experience. 

It was still early afternoon when the box was again pushed beneath Audrey's 
feet. After coming off the hook, her joined hands hung limb before her. 
Angela Prelate roughly unlocked one cuff then drew her hands behind her back 
and re-locked it. I had discovered unhappily that having your hands fastened 
behind your back was considerably different from having them fastened in 
front. Audrey and I could not even hold hands. But at a signal from Miss 
Prelate we followed meekly from the room to whatever the afternoon might 
still hold. 

It was a different room, one I had never seen before. It was a large 
chamber, well lit for the occasion. As its centerpiece there was a large 
structure of hardwood and padlocks which sent my heart to zero. We stood 
there, looking at the massive timbers and guessing at their intent. Our 
attention was drawn to a long wooden bench or seat which ran the full length 
of the object of our concern. Miss Prelate's voice had come almost gracious 
in the saturation of her senses arising from the discoloration of Audrey's 
seat. "I am bearing in mind, Miss Adderly, that you received the Trinity 
correction this morning, and I can tell from the marking on your skin that 
her Ladyship has given extra attention to that portion of you on which you 
sit. For that reason you did not share Miss Wingate's thrashing. Kindly sit 
down." 

I stepped within the timbers facing what I presumed to be the proper 
direction and sat down upon the hardwood seat. Instantly my bottom protested 
but I held in any vocalization. I knew it would be hard for me but Audrey's 
bottom was in much worse condition than mine and would hurt her far more. 
This was not going to be a good day for Audrey Wingate. 

"You will share the bench with Avon, Miss Wingate." There was nothing I 
could do, there was nothing either of us could do except obey. Cautiously 
Audrey found her place and delivered herself to pain. I heard her gasp as 
the hardwood accepted her flesh. At that point Miss Prelate became 
instructive. "You will notice the half circles in the timbers before your 
eyes," she said cheerfully. "You will position your ankles within and I will 
do the rest." 

As usual we obeyed but only to discover the half circles were far enough 
apart to keep our legs spread and our pussies open. But if our mistress 
wished to behold our sex, what did it matter? The yoke was lowered over our 
ankles and the hasp slammed down and the padlock snapped. We had no hope. 

Now that we were well secured with our feet held solidly, our mistress 
considered it prudent to unlock our handcuffs, not for any humanitarian 
reason but because she wished to further utilize our hands. She busied 
herself with adjustments and the end of which we found ourselves confronted 
with another board like that which held our ankles but a little smaller and 
a little closer. The yoke was raised to reveal the waiting half circles and 
we were invited to place our wrists in. To do this we were obliged to bend 
slightly forward. When the yoke was lowered, we were, to all intents and 
purposes, without hands and feet. Audrey and I gazed at each other in a 
terrible realization we could scarcely move. 

"This is a punishment by immobility," Angela Prelate declared. "You will not 
instantly become aware of its affect. That will come later. As you sit to 
await release, which in your case will be much delayed, the two of you will 
find that the bench grows harder and your muscles beg for movement. You two 
make a delightful picture but I have work to do, so I'll drop in form time 
to time to make sure you're enjoying yourselves." Her tone became heavy with 
sarcasm. "Should you succeed in freeing yourselves, would you please come to 
my office? Goodbye." 

We waited until she had gone and closed the door before expressing the 
opinions we had held in check. But what good does it do? Almost immediately 
we turned our attention to the manner in which we were secured. It took only 
a minute to realize there was no chance of freeing ourselves. The padlocks 
were firm and we couldn't reach them anyway. I turned to examine my 
companion's nakedness at close range and silently admire her magnificent 
breasts. But aloud I said, "You must be in agony, sitting like this?" 

"You've been whipped, too. We're both in the same boat." 

"No, not near as terribly as you. Your bottom is black and blue. The woman's 
an absolute bitch." 

"She's a lonely, frustrated spinster who needs a man," Audrey said with 
surprising tolerance. "For that matter, we all need a man. And I don't 
suppose we'll get one. Westley used to bestow his favors upon us from time 
to time but he's gone again on one of his trips. Jeepers, I wished she had 
punished me some way I could stand up. How is it with you?" 

I told her how it was. It was hateful. I tried to move but failed to shift 
any part of myself that mattered. The only freedom I still possessed was to 
fling my head to get my hair out of my eyes. In curiosity I asked, "Why on 
earth do you stay here, Audrey? You've been punished before?" 

"I'm afraid so. I was ashamed to tell you before. You've seen my shame and 
now you're sharing my punishment. All the girls have seen me punished 
before. And the only reason I don't pack up and go away is that Lady Alyth 
is fully aware of what I have to put up with but pays me so much money I 
can't afford to let it go. I've got a couple of disabled parents who need 
the money so I'm confined here just as much as you but for a different 
reason." He paused to look up and down my nakedness. "Darling, I do admire 
what you're doing. I mean this acceptance of six months imprisonment and 
punishment. You must love your grandmother a great deal." 

I lapsed into silence. There was no use extending sympathy beyond its 
purpose. Whatever we said we were going to hurt every bit as much as if we 
kept quite. With the passage of time we realized just how much that hurt 
would De. Punishment by immobility seems so innocent. In actuality it's 
deadly. My bottom was not badly wounded but I was soon trying hard to ease 
it from the pressure on the bench but without the slightest success. My 
bottom was solidly planted upon the wood and there it was going to stay for 
as long as my hands and feet were in the stocks. Audrey and I discussed this 
immobility at length, with her admitting it was an anguish she was finding 
more and more impossible to bear. I knew what she felt but what the hell 
could I do! What the hell could either of us do except to sit and moan! 

Time becomes meaningless in such endurance. It might have been an hour or 
two before Miss Prelate came to gloat. She walked around us and the beastly 
contraption in which our limbs were held several times to assess its effects 
and our ability to endure. Audrey didn't bother to say a word but I pleaded 
eloquently for release. 

"It's beginning to get to you, isn't it?" Angela Prelate told us. "I'm glad 
to tell you it gets worse, much worse. And, if it's any comfort, I'll tell 
you how beautiful you look. You're so sweet and so sad I could positively 
gobble you up. Would you like me to whip your backs?" 

We tensed. It didn't seem possible that on top of our present pain we should 
be whipped. We kept silent but I'm sure our eyes spoke volumes. 

"I know just how you feel," our mistress said in simulated warmth. "I really 
should whip you but I won't. When I eventually release you, and I refuse to 
tell you when that will be, I want you to carry a memory of our time 
together this afternoon. And I also want you to remember that there are so 
many lovely things one can do to you both whenever I feel the need. I must 
leave you again. Goodbye." 

The hours slowly passed. After a while we lost our shame about making 
sounds, and when our bottom spoke of agony we moaned. Quite apart from 
bruised flesh, the pillory or stocks or whatever held us in a posture we 
willing would have exchanged for anything. Every part of our bodies ached. 
When darkness came, we were well and truly scared. 

When a girl is free the advent of the night is the time for bright lights. 
But when you can't move your hands or feet, the darkness is no friend and 
there are no bright lights to ease the fear. Ghosts haunt the dark corners 
and play upon your mind. For Audrey and myself the coming darkness did 
little for our mental states, and made us long even more for release. 

We could hardly see our mistress when she finally came. The electric lights 
exploded into being and startled us. I think she had had a drink or two 
because her communication was unusually frank. "I am sure, dear girls, why I 
go to the bother of making up your imaginary sins to provide me with an 
excuse for infliction punishment upon you." She paused as if for effect, but 
we were too far gone to worry about dramatic effect. She continued. "We are 
all aware of Lady Alyth's pleasure in whipping the fair skin of young 
ladies. I have no doubt her enjoyment of this is quite normal and I have no 
quarrel with it. Most people would adore to whip a girl but lack the courage 
or money. Lady Alyth has both but I have something even better, and that's 
the opportunity. I'll admit to treating you shamefully and gloating over 
your misery while I stand free. Surely you realize, dear girls, that in this 
world there are those who suffer pain and those who inflict pain. Sometimes 
it is an economic imposition but it is always present in our society. As the 
two of you sit there, unable to move, and with your pretty little bottoms 
screaming for relief, I'm sure you realize this truth. It is not yet time 
for your release so once more I will say goodbye and leave you to quiet 
reflection upon the tragedy a slave must endure." 

"Piss on her," said Audrey without conviction. 

"I hope that someday someone will fasten her in this contraption," I added, 
also without belief it would happen. The two of us lapsed into silence. We 
had the night to look forward to, the dark, lonely night. The very dark 
night, for Angela Prelate had turned off the lights as she left. We could 
only sit in the dark and on our suffering bottoms and know the dawn was 
very, very far away. We suffered and we moaned. 

I supposed we should have realized there were limits to the time Miss 
Prelate could use her victims. It must have been somewhere around two in the 
morning when she came again. She was brisk and decisive. "You may hate me 
forever, dear children," she said, "but you have given me joy. In your 
suffering I have found pleasure. I need a man but since there is no men I 
slake my lust on you. Are you ready for release?" 

We assured her instantly that release would be most welcome and would win 
our gratitude. I don't suppose anything we said mattered a damn, the bitch 
had probably considered it wise to turn us loose in time to prepare 
ourselves for the coming new day. Audrey, after all, had her duties, and I 
had a class to attend. Gratefully we stood on wobbly legs and stretched as 
best we could limbs long unused. 

I was taken to the dorm where I sank in thankfulness upon my cot. My ankle 
was shackled as usual but I did not care. Neither Audrey nor I managed any 
sleep while in the stocks and a few hours of sleep before dawn was most 
welcome. 

On the following morning I was summoned to the office, and there, without 
preamble. Lady Alyth casually asked if I would care to serve the balance of 
my sentence in the United States. 

 CHAPTER THREE - Kidnapping 

It was in an atmosphere of the morning after that the supposedly happy 
couple started their next day. Westley absentmindedly forgot the handcuffs 
and Ginevera discretely failed to mention them. Taking advantage of total 
freedom at breakfast and after, she announced her wish to pick up some 
nylons at the boutique down the block. Westley said he would catch up on the 
stock market while sitting in the lobby to await her return. It was a 
perfectly normal beginning to a day. When Ginevera went out the door, 
neither had the faintest idea they would not see each other again for a 
long, long time. 

Ginevera became aware that Westley was falling in love, and she was too 
absorbed in analyzing her own feelings to notice the long black car 
following her. When it stopped at the corner, two men got out, picked her up 
bodily and tossed her into the back seat. Therein another of their kind 
quickly pressed her to the seat with his superior weight and began buckling 
a gag into her mouth. The car surged off. The whole operation had taken all 
of five seconds and left no witnesses would could do more than describe the 
car as long and black. 

Ginevera's hands have been crossed behind her back and tied with cord so 
tightly as to prevent even the slightest struggle. Her ankles were also 
bound. By the time the car passed its fifth intersection, bound hands and 
bound ankles had been joined with a tie so brutal as to bend her backward in 
a bow. Thus she stayed for the balance of the journey. She was not 
blindfolded, so caught a view of male features from time to time as she 
listened in horrified fascination as male voices discussed her body and 
their plans for it 

"We got ourselves a winner this time, fellows," said he who had done the 
binding. "This gal's got the damndest tits you ever did see." 

The bound and gagged girl easily and picked up the story of her fate. Her 
captors were hoods in their twenties who made their living by a number of 
minor criminal activities. Discovering that the art of kidnapping was one of 
the easiest of all, they had made a point of keeping on hand at all times 
some unfortunate female who had not run fast enough or had not run at all. 
When they wearied of her, she was sold to any interested individual or a 
brothel. As far as these boys were concerned, they had an unbeatable system, 
they had it made. 

Ginevera's prison turned out to be a mildewed old house on a dirty street on 
the outskirts of New York. Her captors were anxious she be properly 
informed. "It's got a basement, sweetheart, where you can be tied up or 
locked up. But it's a bit miserable down there so we're gonna start you out 
on the first floor. There's a couple of fellows upstairs that, whenever they 
got ten bucks to spare, they can come down and screw you. We'd give you a 
cut of the take but there ain't no way you can spend it You ain't gonna need 
money no more-maybe never." 

Ginevera's mind was chaos. Behind her was Trinity, Lady Alyth and Westley. 
Ahead there was only degradation and helplessness. The gag denied her 
questions but the coarse talk had already answered most of them. She was a 
piece of merchandise these boys would use to quench their glands, and to 
pick up petty cash from other males. She wondered what her prison would be 
like. 

It was a sad, sad room. There were no bars on the window but the glass was 
cracked and the plaster was broken and absent in patches. Wallpaper hung in 
strips, and the door was without a lock. 

"Don't really need no lock, honey," one informed. "You'll be fixed good and 
safe, and so it will be handy for us to come and go. Every guy ought to have 
a gal handy around the place somewhere." 

She had been tossed upon the bed, and sarcastically told not to move while 
the trio brewed coffee in her honor. Everything hurt too much to struggle 
and the gag was still tight strapped within her mouth. The terrible part was 
that Ginevera knew she had disappeared without a trace. There had been 
almost no one on the sidewalk and the whole thing had taken only a few 
seconds. Inside the car she had been pushed down to the seat and was well 
out of view as the cords were tightly tied around her. No one would ever 
find her, she moaned to herself, feeling very desolate. Ruefully she 
wondered if it might not be better to be whipped each day rather than be 
forced to service a collection of young bucks without morals. She supposed 
there was always the chance of the police raiding the establishment but that 
was a very slim hope. 

Three men warily stood around the bed as their prize was untied and the gag 
taken from her mouth. Her clothes were then ripped from her body amid gasps 
of delight from the male onlookers. Crude comments as to her rather large 
breasts and perfect legs were intermixed with remarks about her flat tummy 
and furry patch. 

Perhaps there was some kindness in the bunch for they offered her coffee, 
which did a lot to revive. Hopefully, she asked, "I know what are you going 
to do to me. But wouldn't you sooner have a lot of money? If you're willing 
to hold me for ransom, I can promise you a great deal of it. I'll tell you 
how to get in touch with those who will pay for my safe return. Please, I 
beg of you." 

"No, we ain't getting into no hassle with no ransom. What we wants is a gal. 
When yous is finished another cup, you can lay down and spread them legs for 
us." 

It was brutal and direct. There would be nothing subtle about this fresh 
captivity. This trio knew what they wanted and would take it. Ginevera 
lingered over a second cup. 

"Yous finished. Lay down." 

The prisoner from Trinity was oddly thankful that she had been naked enough 
before men and women. It made the stares easier to take. The boys told her 
of their appreciation of her cooperation, lest they have to exert themselves 
with forcing her down. But, expecting immediate and rough rape, Ginevera was 
surprised when they explained the need to tie her down first. 

"Yous ain't gonna escape. We jus' tie yous down and use yous when we likes! 
Don't gotta worry that way." 

Each wrist was tied to one of the bedposts with the arms spread wide. Her 
legs and feet were left free for obvious reasons. 

"We could stretch your legs and tie them down, sweetheart," one explained. 
"But there ain't no need for that. We got you fixed. Ain't no way you gonna 
get them hands free. An' a gal can do a lot more for guy when she can 
wrapper her legs around his hips while he screws her." They all laughed at 
that one. "Honey, you're starting out on a whole new life." 

"I don't want to start out on a new life, I've already got a life. And 
people who care about me. Look, would ten thousand dollars help?" 

"You figure that's all you're worth?" The tone was loaded with pity. 

"All right then, twenty. Or thirty. Or forty. Surely you can use money?" 

"Forget it, honey." The speaker looked around at his companions. "Which one 
of us gets her first?" 

Ginevera looked from side to side at corded wrists from which she could 
never escape. To have her legs and feet left free doubled the impact of 
hands thus tied. She could almost feel the lust radiating from these men 
like a heat. And they would soon be satisfying that lust upon her naked 
body, she was sure. She could kick and buck and heave but it would avail her 
nothing. These men would probably just enjoy it. She thought wistfully of 
Westley and wondered how he would interrupt her disappearance. If he 
supposed she had run away, she was indeed lost. If he glimpsed the 
possibility of kidnap, there might be hope yet. Lady Alyth's money would 
open doors and loosen tongues. But her failure to return to the hotel lobby 
and her waiting man could easily be seen as no more than desertion, or 
careless disloyalty to reveal her as less than Trinity's best. The 
spread-eagled girl tugged fretfully at her bound wrists and prepared her 
mind for rape. 

It was a lesser agony then the captive had supposed. Everything is in the 
mind, and Ginevera eased her conscious by thinking hard upon the fact that 
she was not giving in to either these men nor the pleasure of the sex act. 
As each demonstrated his technique, which ranged from crude to barbaric, she 
held her silence and tried to ignore what was happening to her body. But at 
the end of the third rape she was softly crying to herself. 

Perhaps she had been fortunate that each man had already been in a high 
state of excitement and spent his wad quickly. The ordeal was soon over and 
Ginevera was left to her own devices by men who were more interested in 
zipping up their pants. 

It was a captivity almost absurd in its simplicity. Ginevera's wrists were 
tied tightly to the bedposts. No matter how she struggled or kicked, there 
was no escape. When the male creatures stood close to gaze down upon her 
feminine charms, she had no choice but to bear their eyes and then their 
fingers or lips. 

As terrible as the rapes had been, the worst part was that none seemed 
interested in ransom. Money just didn't interest them. Or, if it did, they 
preferred to have the living doll to play with. There very little hope that 
she would ever see Trinity or Westley again. 

It was a simple routine. Each morning and before bedtime, she was taken to 
the dingy bathroom and left alone with a guard outside the door. Ever 
watchful for opportunity, but forever frustrated, she came out each . time 
to yield to a renewed captivity upon the dirty bed. The open door was a 
constant provocation, offering as it did easy freedom. But the rope around 
her wrists mocked that freedom and held her. During the times of her rapes 
she did not think at all. 

The two men and the girl from upstairs came to pay respects. They seemed 
little interested in what was to them just another naked broad. The two men 
drifted away with promises of returning when they had the ten bucks. But the 
girl lingered long enough for a greeting of, "Hi, ya, cunt!" which revealed 
her evaluation of herself and her sex. 

Pathetically, Ginevera could not resist the plea, "Please untie me. Please 
let me loose." 

"You think I'm crazy! Shit, they'd murder me." 

"So let me loose and help me escape. I'll get you a great deal of money." 

"What good's that if I'm dead or cut to bits. Forget it, sister! Spread your 
legs and don't beef. You'll make out okay." 

Over time she picked up some of her captor's name. Brad and Chet were two of 
the original one. Later she found the quiet one was named Buck. Someone had 
named them the Roosters and the name had stuck. In their first pride of 
possession they were no unkind to the captive girl. Each used her as they 
wished, which, as far as Ginevera was concerned, was too often. But their 
skill was such it was hard for her to prevent response, a fact which pleased 
the boys very much. Soon she learned the whore's trick of simulating orgasm. 
Even with her hands tied, there was still a good deal of motion available to 
go along with the gasps and moans of make-believe ecstasy. She tried hard to 
keep her mind on dwelling upon her ultimate fate. 

Ginevera remembered reading somewhere of a scene similar to that being 
enacted by the Roosters and herself, some famous kidnapped girl or another. 
Perhaps it had been a film star which had been captured and held much for 
the same purpose as she was. In the story she remembered how the girl had 
finally gained liberty by turning one gang member against another. She 
doubted the Roosters would be affected by such attempts. They simply didn't 
care for her as a person, only as a piece of ass. But she tucked the thought 
away to await opportunity. 

The tied girl spent a lot of time alone while the Roosters spent time with 
other activities. The girl upstairs, who for some reason was named Prune, 
was suppose to keep an eye on her but it was a hostile eye. During these 
long periods of laying with arms outstretched and eyes roving endlessly, 
Ginevera occupied herself with a hopeless task. Looking from side to side 
she could see the neat cording of her wrists and the manner in which she was 
fastened to the frame. It seemed impossible that her constant twisting and 
fingerings could bring no result. It was pure cruelty for her to lay in the 
obscene nakedness with arms outspread like angel's wings, while both the 
window and door whispered freedom. Sometimes, in pure weariness, she slept. 

There was plenty of time to think but memories of Westley and Trinity Castle 
generated only tears. Her immediate possibilities for escape focused on her 
twice daily journeys to the bathroom, the only time in which she were 
completely free. Since she was untied and tied again twice each day, it had 
at first seemed possible for whoever tied her to make a slip and leave a bit 
of slack. It did not happen. The gang was expert, no doubt from long 
practice upon a series of young women they cheerfully talked about. 

Ginevera discovered it was possible to strike some sort of rapport if she 
laughed at jokes and seemed to be enjoying the rapes. When she asked how 
long she would be kept prisoner she was told she was altogether too good to 
part with. But persistent questioning revealed that the Roosters usually 
wearied of a girl after a few weeks. She pointed out how stiff and painful 
her arms became. She was telling the truth. The boys nodded in unconcern and 
said that every girl made the same complaint and she would get used to it. 

One day, when left alone, Ginevera heard what she hoped was voices at the 
front door. She immediately screamed out cries for help. But the cries did 
nothing more that summons a female from above, a female armed with a length 
of leather strap she threatened to use upon two helpless breasts if screams 
were repeated. Ginevera never did find out what the voices were but Prune 
apparently knew and was unconcerned. But Ginevera was concerned about the 
leather she had seen in the girl's hand. A shutter ran through her at the 
thought of the leather slashing down upon the soft flesh of her breasts. She 
made wild assurances of good behavior and was ashamed of them after the girl 
had gone. 

The first week passed. 

The second week brought a visit from the odd man out of the upstairs trio. 
He paid his ten dollars and treated Ginevera gently enough to generate hope 
in the helpless girl. While they were alone, she whispered in his ear, 
"Please help me. Please, I'll get you all the money you want if you let me 
loose." 

There was no answer. Ginevera's lips were sealed with a kiss she tried hard 
to return. When he had gotten his money's worth of Ginevera, he joined the 
Roosters to tell them of her offer to bribe. 

It was most definitely an occasion. Ginevera's wrists were freed, the bed 
pushed against one wall to provide ring side seats for a show which had been 
enacted often enough before. Miss Ginevera Anderson was compelled to stand 
nakedly against the wall to face a ring of accusers, including that of 
Prune, and defend herself against a charge for which there was no defense. 
She was formally sentenced and Prune was chosen to evoke the gangland 
penalty with her strap. Prudently it was explained to the prisoner she would 
not be injured but simply suffer pain to deter future efforts at escape. 
Ginevera looked around at the grinning faces without mercy. She buried her 
face in her hands and wept. 

Prune and the Roosters enjoyed the tears. They were in no hurry and were 
willing to wait until the sobs subsided. Ginevera was then invited to step 
forward and extend chaffed wrists to be joined and bound. When they were 
tightly secured, willing hands lifted her nakedness up where a stout hook 
hung from the ceiling. The wrists were placed over the hook, leaving the 
girl hanging with her feet at least three from the floor. When the boys 
released her weight her nudity was examined by the only other female 
present, who declared herself satisfied with the naked girl's exposure. She 
teased Ginevera's breasts and bottom with the leather strap, indicating to 
the boys where she planned to strike the punishment blows. Prune's strap, 
while not as cruel as a crop or whip, was supple and heavy. It impacted 
Ginevera's skin with an alarming report to leave a perfect imprint of its 
shape. Moving from side to side, Prune proudly showed her prowess in the 
punishment of a girl and soon had Ginevera dancing in agony and pleading for 
mercy. It was when Prune enlisted the aid of a couple of the boys to pull 
apart and hold Ginevera's legs, exposing the tenderness of her sex, and when 
the first slap of the strap impacted this private place, that Ma Bristol 
burst in like an avenging angel. With a gun in one hand and a club in the 
other, her most unfeminine form defeated an assembly never before confronted 
by righteous rage. Ginevera was hoisted down and carried from the house with 
none daring to oppose this armed and obviously dangerous woman. 

The wealed nakedness was set firmly in the front seat of the waiting car, 
which Ma Bristol drove away with an air of having dealt satisfactory with a 
minor problem, while Ginevera groped her way back into reality. 

"Those bastards," Ma Bristol said. "I figured they wouldn't have no guts." 

"You're wonderful!" 

"I ain't all that wonderful, sweetheart, but I sure do know how to deal with 
assholes. You okay?" 

"I'm okay, they didn't get to do what they really wanted to. I expect I've 
got a few welts and my hands are still tied but that's all." 

"Your hands can stay tied, honey. Guess you know why." 

"Oh, sure, and I really don't mind. Oh, Ma, you're so wonderful." 

"There's been stuff about you in the news. That woman's who came to get you 
before has been tossing her money around and making a fuss. I figured they 
wouldn't fine you so I hot-footed to this damned city and made a few 
inquiries with some horse traders I used to know. Looks to me like I found 
you just in time. I should have brought that bitch of a girl along and 
taught her a lesson. Honeybunch, it's so damned good to have you back." 

Ginevera was so immersed in thankfulness it was some time before she began 
to examine this fresh change in the direction of her life. Once more she 
found herself captive to an affection which was almost love. But also an 
obsession by which it was unlikely her hands would be untied. She could 
count herself fortunate if her ankles did not get tied as well. For the 
moment she simply did not care. Ma Bristol would not be needlessly cruel and 
the rapport previously reached would be still alive. It was natural she 
should ask, "Are you taking me back to the farm." 

Ma Bristol grunted disgustedly. "Wouldn't be no use, sweetheart, that's the 
first place they'd look. They been there once already, poking around and 
asking a lot of damned fool questions. I got us a cute little broken down 
farm place in the Ozarks where I can keep you safe and no one's gonna snoop. 
If I drive all night, we'll be there by morning. Honey, you ain't sorry I 
done what I done, are you?" 

The plaintive question from a heart torn by loneliness reawakened Ginevera's 
sympathy. She knew it pure chance that she had come into this woman's 
possession in the first place long ago. Now she owed Ma everything, maybe 
even her life, and certainly for release from degradation and despair. To be 
Ma Bristol's tenderly cared for prisoner was pure luxury compared to the 
hateful room where she was bound down to a spoiled bed. Her answer was from 
the heart, "Ma, I'm so damned grateful I just don't have the words to tell 
how good it feels to belong to you again. What a miracle it was to see you 
scare the daylights out of them guys!" She laughed ruefully. "I can't 
complain about anything you want to do to me because I was a prisoner before 
we met and I've been a prisoner ever since, so as far as I can see life has 
decided that I should be tied or chained or locked up. Sort of my natural 
condition. It doesn't bother me like it did once, I'm getting used to it." 

"You're one in a million, love. Ain't no way I'm ever letting you go again." 

Ginevera felt sure she was being ridiculous but all she could feel for Ma 
Bristol was love. She recalled primitive societies where, if someone saved 
your life, you owed it to them always. And unquestioningly the woman beside 
her had save it, if not from death itself, then from something worse. She 
remembered the bed and her outstretched arms and shuttered. 

"Them assholes give you a real bad time, didn't they, honey?" Ma Bristol 
offered. "I should have killed a couple of them bastards and broke the legs 
of all the rest, including the bitch. But I was in an all-fired hurry to get 
you away safe. The feel of your pretty skin over my shoulder was something 
so good I ain't got no words for it." The horsewoman looked sideways in 
placid approval. "We're a lucky couple and that's a fact." 

Finally free of the city's sprawl. Ma Bristol pulled off the highway to 
drive down a lonely side road, well away from prying eyes. "I got me a rug 
in the trunk," she said. "There'll be times you'll need to be covered. Would 
it brother you much, honey, if I tie your feet? It ain't that I don't trust 
you but you're a pretty bird that might want to fly away." 

"Of course not. I think you should. I'm only human, MA, and if the right 
opportunity came I might run." Ginevera's pause was heavy with 
embarrassment. "Whatever you want to do to me, I'm not going to mind a bit. 
It makes me feel good to be wanted by somebody like you. Why don't you tie 
my hands properly behind my back, and then neither of us will have to worry 
about my doing something silly." 

It was quickly done. With none to see, Ginevera stepped out of the car and 
stood erect while the Rooster's bindings were taken from her wrists to be 
replaced by Ma Bristol's expert loops and knots behind her back. The naked 
girl was still enveloped with a deep content in once more being free of the 
soil of gangsters. She then sat sideways in the seat so she could put her 
feet forward and watch her ankles bound tightly. From now on she would 
belong to Ma Bristol and that was the end of it. The Roosters, Westley 
Wallace, and Trinity Castle would fade into memory. Westley would not give 
her a child and her wrists would not be strapped above her head every second 
week for the whipping of her back. In a condition which might have drove 
many girls to hysterics she was increasingly feeling a warm content. And 
when she swung her bound feet back inside the car and wiggled to find the 
comfort her bonds allowed, she found herself falling easily and naturally 
into a decision of the horse ranch Ma Bristol had once owned as though Ginny 
Green and the disgusting old man called Hiram were forgotten memories. 
Whenever they stopped for gas or when in heavy traffic, Ma Bristol's rug was 
drawn up beneath Ginevera's chin to cause them to both chuckle over what 
others might say if they knew of the fastened nudity beneath the colored 
wool. 

"Ginny and old Hiram been real friendly since they come back from that 
screwball trip to England to try and pick you up," Ma Bristol said. "Seems 
like them English cops scared the daylights out of them. Ginny said they was 
so damned polite you knew for sure they was getting ready to do something 
real bad. But as far as I can figure all they did was tell Ginny and Hiram 
to go back home. When they got here they wanted to cry on my shoulder 
because I supposed all three of us had lost you. Don't you worry none, 
Ginevera, I ain't sharing you with them nor no one else." 

The tied girl snuggled beneath the rug. Trying to free her hands was 
instinctive. She knew she couldn't get them loose but there was a 
reassurance about tied wrists when it was a friend who pulled tight the 
cord. 

"Shit, there ain't no use busting our ass to get there," Ma Bristol said in 
the darkness of early night. "There's a little place near here with cabins 
where I could pick you up and carry you in without no one noticing. That 
okay?" 

It was a good idea. Ginevera was deposited lovingly upon the bed, her ankles 
then untied. Ma had enough rope to tie one end of it around Ginevera's neck 
and it's other neck to an overhead beam where Ginevera could not reach. This 
left the captive girl with hands tied behind her back but the full run of 
the cabin and its bathroom. Ma sent out for fried chicken which Ma fed to 
the girl who could not feed herself. As they comfortably prepared for sleep. 
Ma said, "I won't ever get tired of having you tied up, honey. It's an 
incurable bug I got planted in my mind and I ain't sure I should be sorry. 
Sort of rough on you, though." 

"That bug of yours is shared by others," Ginevera laughed. "And when you 
figure it, sleeping beside you in the bed with my hands tied really isn't 
all that different to the way any other girl spends her night. Rope simply 
doesn't bother me any more." 

During the rest of their journey Ginevera thought much of this statement, 
questioning its truth and her own sincerity. She knew herself in a plight 
that would make most maidens hysterical. But she was not only calm, she was 
downright relaxed and feeling comfortable. Perhaps she had finally and 
really turned into a true slavegirl, one dedicated completely to her master, 
or mistress, as the case may be. She knew that, if given the chance, she 
would escape to return to Westley and the influence of Lady Alyth. But being 
owned by Ma Bristol made escape purely academic. She did not concern herself 
about it. 

"I'll bet I know what you're thinking, honey," Ma intruded upon her 
captive's thoughts. "It don't seem real, does it? I mean, you tied up in the 
front seat with me, and us hightailing it to a place where I'll keep you 
hobbled always. It's pretty much like them movies where they're taking a 
girl to prison and she's handcuffed in the back seat. A body has to wonder 
what they're thinking about and how they're aiming to behave." 

"They're probably frightened. I'm not frightened. And we're friends with 
each other. Look, Ma, in this place where you're taking me to, won't there 
be nosy neighbors?" 

"Oh, sure, I've met a few of them. But they mostly treat their women pretty 
rough and their daughters get their little asses stripped from time to time. 
But there's one thing ain't none of them gonna do and that's go to the cops. 
Cops is a dirty word." 

"You mean, if they drop in for coffee and find me naked and chained to the 
wall, they're not going to think it unusual?" 

"That's right, love. They may be nosy as all get out but that don't stop 
them minding their own business. They won't see nothin' wrong in me keeping 
you like that. Makes things a lot easier for us. And I'll be glad to be away 
from Ginny Green and old Hiram. Them's two what got ideas about you." 

Their hideaway was a pure delight, everything sufficiently rustic and 
decayed enough to not attract attention amidst the hills. It was early in 
the day so their inspection was immediate. Ma untied Ginevera's feet and 
noosed her neck to give her a leash by which to lead the naked beauty around 
the grounds. There was turkeys and ducks, and even a billy goat peacefully 
chewing a piece of newspaper and eyeing them both with distrust. Needless to 
say, there were horses. Upon their return journey to the house, Ma Bristol 
pointed out with pride the various posts and other items to which a young 
lady could be attached. Ginevera almost felt a privileged visitor. 

The farmhouse was more of the same with ringbolts solidly anchored where 
ever Ma might wish to park her slave. The sight of these iron threats 
engendered laughter which they shared. "I fixed these just because I was so 
gosh darned lonesome," Ma Bristol confessed. "I had not idea I'd ever use 
them. But I would sit over coffee and figure I had you attached to this one 
or that. It were better than nothin'. But now I got you back, honey, I'm 
gonna use every one. That pretty neck and little wrists are gonna get fixed 
for sure. That okay with you?" 

"Of course it's okay, though I expect I've nothing to say about it." 

"You're damned right, sugar. Wouldn't be no fun for any of us if you could 
tell me to chain your here or chain you there or maybe not chain you at all. 
I'm going to stay the boss." 

"You've always been the boss. Ma. Have you got anything in that iron pot on 
the stove?" 

"Sure have, sugar, and that tells me you're hungry. How about I chain your 
feet and give you back your hands so you can tend the fired and get us 
supper while I sit and watch how pretty you are? Sugar, you is the loveliest 
thing I ever did see." 

That's the way it was. Determined to quench the nagging in her mind, 
Ginevera stood quietly for her bondage to be rearranged. But she was given 
no opportunity to run. The ankle bondage was applied before the noose was 
taken from her neck or the rope from her wrists. Ma Bristol padlocked the 
chain about her ankles with only a short linkage, allowing her very short 
steps. 

Ma Bristol summed it up, "If only folks knew how easy it was to keep a girl 
safe around the house, there'd be a lot more bits of chain and padlocks 
sold. Tell me, honey, if you was aiming to get away and you was fixed as I 
got you fixed now, what is the first thing you'd have to do?" 

Ginevera shrugged. "It's so far from happening, I simply don't know. With my 
feet like this I'm not going anywhere. I suppose I'd have to try and knock 
you unconscious and find the key. But I wouldn't do that even if I could. 
Don't worry, I'm not even thinking about running through that door." 

Ma Bristol gave the thought serious consideration. "Don't it make you sort 
of mad then, having to wear them chains. If you ain't gonna run anyway, 
ain't no sense hobbling your feet. That leaves the hold reason for you being 
fixed the way you is to the fact I like to see you that way. Damn it, sugar, 
it curls me up inside with the nicest as I watch you." She sighed 
cheerfully. "I'm so damned lucky to have a gal like you." 

"I'm a pretty toy, like a Barbie doll you can dress up," Ginevera admitted 
without concern. "Look, Ma, why don't you fix me to your favorite ring, 
where ever it is, after we've had supper. In fact, why not try me out on all 
of them? I can tell you how each one feels after I'm fixed and you can 
simply sit and enjoy." 

"Crazy, ain't it, sugar?" 

"Not unless we want to think it is. I don't think it's crazy at all." 

Supper was a delightful normalcy. Ginevera knew herself still shaken and 
uncertain from the horror of the gang kidnap so swiftly followed by Ma 
Bristol's repossession. Her life had become a series of captivities, each 
different from the other. Evidently Ma was still a good hunter of the wild 
things in the woods around the farm. 

While they ate, Ginevera became strangely sad. She realized it was because 
her thoughts of Ma Bristol led her to remembering the time Lady Alyth had 
fetched her from Ma and taken her back to Trinity Castle. And that made her 
long for Westley and Lady Alyth even while still seemingly happy to be with 
Ma Bristol. Perhaps the memory of the Roosters was already fading and with 
it the comparison between that horror and the relative safety of Ma 
Bristol's farm. But now ... well, now she remembered sharing a warm bed with 
Westley, the man she supposed was her husband. She knew she wanted to get 
back to them. 

But her return to Trinity Castle had to be done without hurting this farm 
woman who had done so much for her. It was a formidable task from which she 
slimnk. Without the keys which Ma Bristol kept well hidden, it was an 
ambition impossible to achieve. 

That evening, after supper, with her left wrist bound tightly to one ring 
and the right to another such that she stood against the wall with wide 
spread arms, she did her best to put it into words. "Ma, I shouldn't be 
telling you this, but somehow or the other I really should escape. It's not 
just you but there are others involved in my captivity. Look at the larger 
view. I suppose I ought to think one day of getting a husband and having 
children. Gosh, Ma, am I crazy to be playing this game with you tonight?" 

"No, sugar, what you said is correct. But don't you see, it adds a bit of 
spice to what we do. You want to go and I don't want to loose you. So I make 
sure you don't ever get the chance to get away. I use every rope and lock I 
can to keep you from running away, while you use every bit of slack to try 
and work yourself free. Great idea!" 

Ginevera was not a bit sure about this. She sighed unhappily but gave 
herself as a willing victim to the various bondage positions Ma contrived 
with the aid of her numerous rings. Neither of them had to worry about 
decision, there wasn't any decision. The chains never left her feet, so 
whatever was happening to her hands made no difference, she was still a 
prisoner. 

And the hobbled girl actually found amusement in going from tie to tie and 
ring to ring while the metal around her ankles said clearly she had no 
chance to run. As her wrists were tied again and again, or her neck made 
captive to a ring, she stood in beautiful nakedness at Ma's disposal, and 
allowed her mind to drift back to the Roosters, to Trinity Castle, and to a 
man named Westley who she sincerely hoped was concerned about her 
disappearance. Hanging as a hopefully ray of sunshine was Lady Alyth, who 
might or might not be able to track her down again. By the time the captive 
was ready to be chained for the night, Ginevera realized she had had a 
pleasant evening. 

It gave the captive girl and the woman who owned her a deep contentment. 
Ginevera was always controlled by some sort of chain from which there was no 
possibility of escape and was thus relieved from worrying about it. There 
were incidents, for instance the evening a farm wife came to call. Ginevera 
served coffee with as much of a flourish chained feet would allow. When, 
after the ritual of the cups. Ma Bristol thoughtfully handcuffed her to a 
ring above her head, the prisoner settled herself for entertainment. 

"She's a pretty piece," said Hattie Simpson. "Where did you get her. Mar 

"Picked her up in New York," replied Ma. "Guess I was lucky in finding this 
one. If you're aiming to do the same, you'll have a bit of a job for 
yourself. Although they are certainly there. Buy yourself a pair of 
handcuffs first." 

"Huh? If I brought something like that home, my Hank would be on top of her 
all day long, and where would that leave me? You'll so damned lucky you 
ain't got no man. If I ever get to be a widow, I'll have one of these right 
quick. Do you have to train them? This one of yours acts like she's been 
gentled. She does everything you say." 

Ma Bristol was enjoying a vast superiority in which Hattie and her ambition 
to have a slavegirl was left far behind. "That's another thing where I was 
lucky. Ginevera, here, was pretty well trained before I laid hands on here. 
All I had to do was teach her who's boss." 

"How do you do that? Whip her ass?" 

"Only once. If you do it hard enough the first time they remember it. Pain 
is a great teacher. I haven't whipped Ginevera in a long time, have I, 
honey?" 

Ginevera agreed that, no, she had not been whipped for quite some time. Then 
she added her intention to behave so she would not be whipped again. 

"Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, would it?" said Hattie doubtfully. "You 
sure she ain't stringing you a line?" 

"What do you think? Look at her now, Hattie, the way I got her fixed so 
there's nothing she can do. That's the secret, just keep them helpless and 
they'll be the best little girls you ever saw." 

"How about letting me whip her ass, just to see what she does?" 

"No way. Forget it. Ginevera gets whipped when she deserves it and then it's 
me what does the whipping. What the hell you want to whip her for?" 

"Just because." Hattie's voice was filled with visions. "She's a pretty 
girl, ain't she? And as far as I'm concerned, pretty girls are for men to 
shove it into and for wives to whip. Want to loan her to me for a month?" 

"Hell, no. That Hank of yours would knock her up right fast. No man ain't 
never getting near Ginevera if I can help it." 

Hattie sniffed and fixed the chained girl with an inviting eye. "You'd like 
to have a man again, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" She chuckled lewdly. "And, 
maybe me, too. If you come back home with me a while, I promise you won't 
ever be bored." 

"Thank you, but I belong to Ma Bristol," the slavegirl said demurely. 

Hattie Simpson made an impatient gesture. "I'm offering it to you either 
way, honey. You get screwed with my Hank or you can service me, or you can 
do both. I'll bet if you asked real nice. Ma Bristol would let you go home 
with me. I promise I'll keep you chained so you can't run away." As though 
struck by sudden inspiration, Hattie turned to an increasingly indignant 
hostess. "Look, Ma, you know that colt you was admiring? It's yours if 
you'll let me have this little sweetheart for just one month." 

"No." 

"Two weeks?" The female voice was filled with yearning. "I said no, and 
that's the end of it." 

"You're a hard woman. Ma. Tell you what, you fix this little trick the way 
you do when you whip her little ass then let me have a go at her with a 
riding crop. I don't have no whip but I expect you do. Ma, be a sport." 

Ma Bristol laughed from the security of knowledge and experience. "It 
wouldn't be no kindness, Hattie, neither to you or to the gal. If I was to 
let you whip her right now, you'd be back tomorrow for some more, and the 
next day, too. Whipping a gal is what they call addictive, sort of like a 
good home brew where you want just one more. Wait until you're a widow then 
take a trip to New York." 

Ma Bristol and her slavegirl laughed about it afterwards. But there was a 
bit of sympathy for the farm wife who had led a life in which there had been 
far too little fun. "The poor woman is like all the rest," Ma Bristol said. 
"A gal like you sets them on fire, especially if she's naked. There ain't 
way Hattie would want to whip her old man or one of the farmer's wives 
around. But one sight of you drives her wild." She chuckled. "I ain't 
worrying about it none because I got you and they ain't. I guess there's 
reasons women look at gals that way. But I ain't bothering to figure them 
out. Which way would you like me to chain you next?" 

It was the loveliest feeling to be tied and chained helplessly by Ma while 
the neighbors viewed her with unadulterated lust. On such occasions Ginevera 
was usually quite helpless and would have been completely at the mercy of 
the visitor had Ma not been around. It was pretty much like being staked out 
for a lion's dinner but with an expert marksman standing close by with a 
loaded gun. Another hilarious memory was of a male. 

His name was Jimmy Gates. He had come to borrow a scythe and, was the habit 
in the backwoods, had walked in on them unannounced at a moment when Ma had 
handcuffed her captives slender wrists and collared her neck to the wall 
with barely a foot of chain. Jimmy Gates stared in pure disbelief. 

"Who the hell told you to barge in here," Ma Bristol blustered, momentarily 
at a loss. "Get out of here, go peddle your papers." 

Ma might have as well saved her breath for Jimmy was frozen in his tracks, 
staring at Ginevera. His fascinated gaze remained fixed up Ginevera's big 
breasts. "That there's a girl," he said as if making a discovery. "She ain't 
got no clothes on! Gosh, she's beautiful!" 

Ma Bristol was about to enforce a harsh dismissal by the use of force but 
callow youth's astonishment touched some vein of mischief within her. "Ain't 
you ever seen a gal naked before, Jimmy Gates," she said good-humoredly. 
"What in tarnation you blushing for?" 

Jimmy Gates did not blush alone. Beneath his stare, Ginevera was producing a 
fine range of pink all her own. She could not move from the wall without 
jerking her collared neck by its chain. But handcuffs are versatile and she 
joined linked wrists to enable captive hands to cover her breasts. Sensing 
the trend of her owner's mood, she returned Jimmy's stare and earnestly 
intoned, "Please rescue me! Please rescue me, kind Sir!" 

Jimmy swallowed hard. Since the breasts were now covered, he transferred his 
focus to Ginevera's pubic curls. "Gosh!" he muttered. 

As though flustered by male attention, the stripped maiden lowered one hand 
to cover her furry triangle while the other attempted to stay up at the 
breasts. The effect was comical. "Oh, Sir, you shouldn't be seeing me like 
this. I'm ... I'm naked!" 

"You want I should get you loose from them there chains? Gee whiz. Miss, I'd 
need a whole raft of tools...." 

"Oh, kind Sir, if only you would, I'd be so grateful." 

"Look, you two, I'm still here, in case you've forgotten." Ma's voice was 
heavy with sarcasm. "Ain't no way you're getting that gal loose, Jimmy 
Gates, so just you forget the idea." In simulated wrath, she thundered at 
the girl in chains, "If you don't want to be whipped raw, you young Jezebel, 
you'd best stop tempting this poor boy...." 

"I ain't no poor boy, I'm a growed man." He tried to sound as forceful as he 
could. "Does Ma Bristol really whip your ass, Miss?" 

"Well, only when I'm naughty." 

Jimmy Gates was torn between lust and the desire to do what was expected 
from a gentlemen. And there was Ma Bristol, who might have the legal right 
to do this to the naked girl. Transferring his gaze from Ginevera to her 
owner, he pleaded, "Look, Ma, would you mind if I sort of copped a feel-down 
there where she's trying to cover up?" 

"Jimmy Gates, you ought to be ashamed, wanting to grab hold of sugar's 
snatch!" Ma bristled with indignation. "Honeybunch, would you want this 
young fellow grabbing a handful of your you-know-what?" 

"Oh, no! Oh, Mistress, please don't let him! That would be terribly naughty 
and I'd have to be whipped...." Ginevera trailed her exclamation. 

Jimmy Gates was prepared to make concessions. "Then how about one of them 
nice tits?" he whined in heart broken yearning. "You want them boobs 
grabbed, sugar?" 

"Oh, that would be naughty, too, so I'd have to be whipped again." The 
chained girl turned the full power of her reproach upon their visitor. "Oh, 
Mister Gates, you shouldn't never no way talk about things like that to a 
poor, innocent slavegirl like me." She extended handcuffed wrists. "But if 
you really want to, I'm sure it's okay for us to shake hands." 

"Weren't thinking of shaking no hands," Jimmy Gates stood his ground. "Don't 
see as it would do no harm if you turned a bit so I could take a hold of 
your bottom." He turned to Ma imploringly. "She wouldn't get no baby out of 
me doing a thing like that." 

"Oh, Sir, are you really sure? I mean, a girl can't be too careful." 

Robbed of purpose, Jimmy Gates looked desperately from the slavegirl to her 
owner and tossed chivalry to the winds. "Look, Ma, how'd it be the next time 
you have to whip her because she's been naughty, you let me do the whipping. 
I should would admire the chance." 

"Ain't no man touching my gal." 

"Maybe I could watch?" 

"Maybe you should go back home, Jimmy Gates, and stop giving my sugar bad 
ideas." 

When Ma Bristol returned from seeing the infatuated youth off the premises, 
she freed her laughing slavegirl totally except for the chained feet from 
which Ginevera was destined to never be free. "You got to feel sorry for the 
poor kid," she said good humouredly. "He don't get much fun and, if he lives 
to be a hundred, he won't ever see nothing like you. I'll swear that when he 
got back in his car, he got an erection in his pants a foot long. When you 
think of guys like that, you got to be sorry for the poor bastards. Brew us 
another coffee, sugar." 

As the days passed quietly there were other visitors which Ma dealt with 
easily with hindrance to the life she and her slavegirl enjoyed in their 
quite solitude. They were happy in their dreams and time in the sun. More 
and more Ginevera realized there could be no escape for, no matter what Ma 
Bristol did with her body and limbs, shackled always remained at least upon 
her feet. In resignation, Ginevera shared Ma Bristol's happiness. 

The day came when chores took Ma to the barn and to leave her handcuffed 
slave with hands and arms held above her head by a length of rope. It was 
not unlike the pose she had assumed at Trinity for her biweekly whippings, 
and one of Ma Bristol's favorite forms. She often used it on Ginevera, but 
never for more than an hour or two, time in which Ginevera stood and dreamed 
and deliberately snub one ankle against its twin in an endless affirmation 
of captivity. She was thus engaged when she heard the motor of a car and 
caught a quick glimpse through the kitchen window as it passed by. This was 
a bad moment which happened often enough. Ginevera knew herself helpless and 
naked and alone, and wished the visitor would go to the barn instead of 
coming to the house to be redirected by a blushing maiden. Listening 
intently, she breathed a sigh of relief when there was no footstep upon the 
porch. 

But it was not long before footsteps brought her owner to the door to reveal 
something so totally out of place in the rural scene as to cause Ginevera to 
stare in dismay at a feminine figure she never thought she would see. 

It was the girl named Prune. 

The two girl viewed each other, Ginevera in a stare of shock, but Prune in 
satisfaction. "You don't need to call for help," she said, "I crept upon on 
that old bitty and locked her in the barn. You're already packaged for 
delivery-this is my lucky day." 

Ginevera gulped down her fear. The handcuffs were tight upon her wrists and 
were, moreover, held above her head to deliver her nudity to a pair of 
gloating eyes. There seemed nothing worthwhile to say except a plaintive 
query, "What have you come her for?" 

"I want you." 

"You can't have me. And, anyway, I'm chained." 

"Figured you would be. Brought myself a key. All I got to do is get them 
hands down and put them behind your back. Gosh, I never expected it would be 
this easy." 

Ginevera fought, knowing she could never win but obeying instinct which 
screamed at the thought of returning to the Rooster's lair. She waited until 
the steel band had been unlocked from one wrists, then launched herself upon 
her kidnapper. 

When Prune reeled back from the onslaught, Ginevera tried to follow up but 
was instantly tripped by the chain between her feet. A moment later she was 
face down on the floor with a triumphant slut upon her back, forcing arms 
behind her and locking home the steel cuff. With good will, Prune dragged 
the once captive to stand erect in defeat. 

"You never had no chance," Prune laughed. "And you ain't never gonna get a 
chance, honeybunch. What I got to do now is get you someplace where I can 
hang you up proper and finished the job I was doing when that old witch 
busted in on us and screwed things up." Her voice became almost a croon. 
"Didn't that strap have the loveliest sound up between your legs?" 

There was no conversation on the journey to the car. Ginevera cried for help 
and fought as best she could until Prune gathered a handful of her hair to 
compel her towards a hated slavery. It was while Prune awkwardly used one 
hand to open the trunk that there came a resounding crash and a bellow of 
rage as Ma Bristol emerged from splintered wood to charge the startled girl. 
Quickly she pounced upon the girl too shocked to turn and run. It was over 
quickly as Prune was carried in triumph to the kitchen. 

Ginevera followed with hobbled and cautious steps. 

Tough and wiry as she might have been. Prune's struggles were ineffectual. 
As the girl from New York mouthed a steady stream of obscenities, Ma cuffed 
her into obedience, crossed her wrists, tied them tight, then used the same 
rope as had just moments before had held Ginevera upright to hoist the angry 
young woman to where her reaching toes and four inch heels fought vainly for 
the floor. Ma stood back in righteous wrath. 

"I'll bet your guys will want to know what happen to you, you city bitch," 
she said. "But first thing I got to do is strip you down. Kick all you like, 
gal, it ain't gonna do you no good." by this time Ginevera had reached the 
place of punishment to watch in fascination as Prune's odd clothing was tore 
from her torso until she the young girl hung in kicking and cursing 
nakedness. Frantic with fear, the Rooster's girl shouted, "Please don't hurt 
me! I ain't like some girl what likes pain. I couldn't bear no whippin', I'd 
go nuts." 

"If you play, you pay." Ma Bristol's voice was curt. "If you didn't want to 
risk getting yourself whipped, you should have stayed back where you come 
from." She turned to her radiant but still helpless slave to say, "You want 
to blister her pleat, sugar?" 

Ginevera shook her head. "I'd be no good at it, Ma, please don't make me." 

"Then turn around. You may as well have your hands. And we'll be wanting 
coffee after a while. This scrawny bitch can hang all day without hurting." 

Ginevera backed up and was thrilled to feel motions of freedom as Ma fumbled 
with the key. "I could lock these on your ankles, bitch," she said to the 
trembling female in suspension. "But I want to see you kick them legs of 
yours. But, come to think of it, I got to tie them well apart, ain't I? 
That's the way you had Ginevera back when I made your acquaintance. I ain't 
forgetting that." 

There was a squeal of anguish as the thought of what Ma was promising hit 
Prune. "Oh, god, don't you whip me there!" 

Ma simply took one leg, held it tight as she bound the ankle tight with a 
loop of rope. Then it was spread wide and tied taut to one of the convenient 
rings. The other legs proved even easier, leaving Prune in the posture of a 
ballet dancer's splits with all her weight still hanging from tied wrists. 
Ma gazed at the female facility thus exposed without approval. "Ain't got 
yourself much of a crop of hair," she said. "Maybe by the time I'm through 
with you, won't be no hair left at all. Why don't you stop your cussing and 
say something sensible?" 

"I want to go home." 

"I'll just bet you do. Anything else you want to tell us before you get the 
strap-it was a strap you was using on my gal, wasn't it?" 

With Ma safely out of ear-shot, Prune lost no time. "You got your hands now 
so hurry up and get me loose. I'll bat that old bitch over the head when she 
comes through the door and the two of us can get safely away. Come on, 
hurry!" 

"Don't be silly. My feet are chained and I'm not going anyway. I can't win a 
fight with you so you'd haul me back to those horrible Roosters and that 
filthy bed in that filthy room. I'd have to be crazy!" 

The strap with which Ma Bristol was armed upon her return was every bit as 
formidable as the one Prune had used on Ginevera long ago. A wicked slice of 
leather, supple and limber, and obviously of a weight to cause the eyes of 
the stretched and suspended female to distend in anguish. "How did you do 
this," Ma asked innocently. "Up inside from knee to the place where you pee? 
And then work on that for a while before you start down the other side? Best 
I get started before you run out of cuss words." 

Prune screamed obscenities at the first blow which left its vicious imprint 
on the inside on one tight just above the knee. Then the lash imprinted the 
softer flesh just next to the first impact. Ma Bristol certainly knew how to 
use the strap. Prune's pleadings became frantic, almost mindless in her need 
to stop this pain before it reached her private parts. She did seem to have 
a healthy respect for the amount of pain she thought the strap would cause 
there. Or perhaps she knew from painful experience. 

With the first strike squarely against spread open pussy, Prune screamed. It 
wasn't a word, but a primitive sound that echoed from the walls and told 
very well of the pain the leather had evoked within the helpless girl. As 
more strokes landed upon the well used sexual facility, Prune's screams 
oddly lessened, almost turning into gasps and whimperings. Perhaps the area 
was becoming numb from repeated blows of the heavy leather. 

When the strap no longer lingered at that target and began its slow descent 
down the other leg, Prune resorted to steady moans of pure pain. When the 
strap had completed the painful path, Ma laid aside the weapon of vengeance 
and freed the ankles. Prune's legs hung motionless as she whimpered in her 
bondage. 

"You can put the coffee pot on now, sugar." Then she turned to the moaning 
girl, "That's just the beginning, bitch. You still got a nice round ass and 
a good bare back I'll get worked over in time for supper. Tits ain't much 
but maybe I can whip them too. Need a small whip, the kind that sort of cuts 
a thin line 'cross your skin. Maybe by supper you'll remember never to touch 
my gal again." 

From the first, Ginevera remembered only the horror of her own being thus 
fastened with a Rooster dragging hard on each leg to split her wide open for 
Prune's strap. But, little by little she found herself melting in sympathy 
over a punishment which awoke all to vividly her own memories of pain. She 
said nothing, knowing that Ma would sense her mood but would not alter her 
punishing of this girl. As she brewed the coffee at the end of Prune's first 
lashing, she knew she dared not intervene. 

As Ma, breathing heavily, laid her strap aside, she eyed approvingly the 
sweat-stained nudity hanging limply from it's wrists, eyes closed and 
moaning softly as it swung from side to side. Her eyes locked upon a pair of 
stretched feminine breasts and she rubbed the helpless nipples with fingers. 
"How'd it be, sugar," she asked Ginevera, "if I was to mark these up a bit? 
We got all afternoon." 

"Please don't. I remember when somebody wanted to whip mine. It's the most 
terrible feeling." 

"Okay. You got a kind heart, sugar. I'll leave them be if that's the way you 
wants it. But her rump and back are going to get it good after we let her 
hang a while. Come on, sweetheart, you can pour the coffee." 

It was a bizarre taboo: the comfortable figure of Ma Bristol drawn up to the 
table with her coffee, a naked girl who's chained feet made music as she 
went to and from the stove, and overshadowing the entire scene was the 
suspended nudity of a punished girl who's thighs were scarlet and purple and 
who's sex was swollen. 

The hung up nakedness still moaned in the aftermath of punishment until 
Prune asked pathetically, "Ain't you gonna give me a cup of coffee?" 

Ginevera looked in Ma's direction for instructions. "Ah, go ahead," said Ma 
contentedly, "you old softy. You want to." The slavegirl held the steaming 
cup to grateful lips. For Ma Bristol everything was well in hand. 

The middle aged woman and her chained possession sipped coffee and chatted 
cheerfully while Ma Bristol made no effort to look elsewhere than at her 
handiwork which she obviously found deeply satisfying. Ginevera was smart 
enough to keep silent. If she nagged Ma in the wrong direction, she could 
easily find herself suspended along side Prune. She sat and glowed in the 
comfort of Ma Bristol's approval and possession. A slavegirl much loved is a 
privileged female, and that was something Ginevera was determined never to 
forget. Since she was more and more giving up the idea of escape, she more 
and more choose the path of obedience. The absence of whip marks upon her 
skin perhaps proved her choice the right one. Looking from time to time at 
the well-whipped Prune, she could not but help to shutter. 

Ma Bristol had been thinking, and after a while revealed inspiration. "Ain't 
no way I'm going to turn this gal loose," she announced. "But I ain't 
keeping her around here to mess things up between you and me, sugar. What 
I've decided is to make a gift of her to Hattie. And that young Jimmy 
Gates." She chuckled at a vision in her mind. "Young Jimmy can't take this 
home, his mother would have kittens. But there's nothing to stop him from 
going over to Hattie's place and whipping her ass whenever he wants to. 
Although I'm sure he's more interested in shoving his rod inside than he is 
in making her squeal. But that ain't what Hattie is interested in. I'll bet 
in less than a week there ain't a bit of the bitch what isn't marked with 
red or purple streaks. What you think of that idea, sugar." 

Ginevera wanted to laugh. But all humor aside, she saw virtue in Ma's 
suggestion. It would make Jimmy Gates very happy. It would fulfill Hattie's 
yearnings, and no doubt Hattie's husband would be a beneficiary. She had 
never met Mister Simpson but Ginevera was sure he would find the charms of 
even Prune very attractive compared to those of his wife and whatever else 
could see seen in this rustic backwoods. Prune, herself, no longer mattered. 
Prune had entered slavery and Ginevera knew all too well what slavery 
entailed. Prune had said goodbye to the world of the free and her former 
life. From now on she would know only the rope and whip and obedience. All 
was well. 

Ma Bristol was a woman of action, and with it went decision. Having sealed 
Prune's fate, she went to the phone and thirty minutes later a flushed but 
immensely grateful Hattie Simpson was staring almost in awe at a naked girl 
hanging by her wrists and with a bottom and back as yet unmarked by whip or 
crop. "Ma, you're a true friend," she stammered earnestly. "What you're 
giving me now is as good I as could ever hope to get in this life. She's not 
as good as yours, of course, but I ain't complaining. Gosh, I wish I'd been 
here to see what you'd done between her thighs." 

"Still plenty left, Hattie, and it's all yours." 

Prune could see her fate going from bad to worse. She exclaimed, "You 
needn't think I'm kissing your ass, you old hag. Get back where you came 
from!" 

With a nod of approval from Ma Bristol, Hattie selected a riding crop. 
Without preamble, she took a stance to deliver a truly awful cut squarely 
across the bottom of the young lady from New York. Prune emitted a squeal of 
anguish which trailed off into assurances of kissing Hattie's ass anytime. 
Prune even suggested that if they would let her down right now and free her 
hands ... ! 

The offer was ignored. Hattie thoughtfully cut away at the convenient girl 
skin so kindly provided by a good neighbor she would be forever in debt to. 
The recipient of her attentions screamed and kicked protesting feet in all 
directions. Ginevera had vowed not to watch but found herself fascinated by 
the sight of something she knew all too well. 

For a woman who had never owned a slave, Hattie Simpson was amazingly 
proficient. She cropped and whipped Prune from her neck on down to her 
knees, applying either instrument with equal cunning. At the end of it she 
was sweating hard while Prune hung limp and lifeless. 

It was while the assembly was discussing the method of binding the sad and 
suffering maiden from New York, that a polite knock was heard upon the door. 
None had heard the entry of a car, or the footsteps of its owner, and when 
they gazed in startled shock at the figure in the doorway, Ginevera wished 
her feet where free to enable her to greet a man too astonished to say a 
word. 

It was Westley Wallace. 

 CHAPTER FOUR - Avon 

I'll admit when I thought of Grandma I felt guilty. I had only served about 
a month of my six month sentence at Trinity when I suddenly discovered 
myself on what seemed then a holiday to New York where I would be wined and 
dined and no doubt screwed by Lady Alyth's one and only nephew, Westley 
Wallace. I have to frankly admit that, fully dressed, without handcuffs, but 
with an uncertain future in which there lay a man, I bored the plane at 
Heathrow in a state of excitement. I wish I'd known then what I know now. 

I could imagine the impact on one of the Trinity girls had she suddenly 
found herself as privileged as I. Some had been at Trinity several years 
whereas I had been only a month. At any rate, for me it was like being born 
all over again, and everything I did and saw was wonderful. An amusing 
feature of this new freedom was doing things with two hands instead of one. 
When the flight attendant offered me something, I reached out both my arms 
automatically, handcuffs had been habit forming. 

There is something boyish about Westley. For one thing he's still in his 
twenties, and, considering his always had everything he wanted in life, he's 
turned out remarkably stable. Except that he never takes anything seriously. 
This includes girls. He takes us to his bed, bound or free, with the same 
carefree enjoyment in which he ate his meals. Westley was far stronger than 
he looked and could subdue me easily. But whatever Westley was or was not, I 
wanted him and I wanted New York. 

He was at the airport and couldn't have been sweeter had we been in love. 
The hotel was one of the best, and the suite larger than most homes. I found 
myself suddenly shy and wondering what I had gotten myself into. There was a 
bar at which Westley poured drinks for us both. But before he gave me mine 
he took something from his pocket I had hoped wasn't there. With his 
delightful, boyish grin he dangled the metal cuffs and inquired, "Do you 
mind?" 

I minded but did not say so. I was walking between two different worlds and 
this young man with his handcuffs was my only refuge in a foreign world. My 
only protest was a weak, "Do you really have to?" 

"Of course I have to, sweetheart. Aunt Alyth insisted that I shouldn't let 
you forget. She also told me you had to be whipped. But we won't do that 
this evening unless you want it." 

I was back in wonderland as I shrugged and held out my hands for the steel 
bracelets which were the normal dress for girls at Trinity. When the circles 
were firmly locked upon my wrists, Westley handed me my drink which I now 
had no choice to take but with two hands. 

"I expect you'd like to know all about it," he said with a trace of urgency. 
"Look, I'll sit down and you can kneel at my feet while I bring you up to 
date. Do you mind?" 

Kneeling, I felt ridiculous. It was the clothes that spoiled it. Girls who 
kneel should wear nothing. But I was rather pleased with the wardrobe Lady 
Alyth had been so generous with so I knelt down and held my glass in cupped 
hands in what I hoped was the approved humility. I caught the glint in 
Westley's eye and we both laughed. That told me I was on the right track and 
everything was alright. 

I drank my cocktail far too rapidly. "I forget what you know," Westley said. 
"Anyway, there was a girl named Ginevera. You did meet her, I know you did. 
Anyway, she was my wife. We came her for the honeymoon. We'd scarcely got 
settled when she disappeared in a way to leave the police and every one else 
totally baffled. Aunt Alyth was furious and I felt a bit of a fool because I 
didn't have a single clue. But I had to do something so I occupied my time 
to become a detective." Westley's shrug said volumes. "I soon discovered the 
best approach to anything was a lot of money. With Auntie helping, that was 
easy. I picked up pieces here and there, and in the end they led me to the 
damndest old shanty of a farm in the damndest bit of backwoods a man could 
ever see. When I found my wife she was stark naked, her ankles were chained 
so she couldn't run away, and she was drinking coffee with a middle aged 
lady, all comfortable, cozy and unconcerned. Before my arrival they'd been 
watching something Aunt Alyth would have dearly loved. There was a naked 
girl hanging by her wrists and another middle aged lady busily whipping her 
with a riding crop. 

The suspended girl was obviously glad to see me but the one with the riding 
crop was not. She gazed at me from the other side of the naked girl to say, 
"I don't know what you're selling, mister, but whatever it is, we don't want 
it. Fuck off!" 

Westley chuckled and leaned forward to stroke my hair as though I was a 
kitten. "It was too absurd for words," he continued. "My wife and I both 
laughed, we couldn't help it as she hobbled to where I stood to embrace me. 
I was then invited to sit down and have a cup of coffee and was introduced 
to one lady who Ginevera called Ma and a Hattie Simpson, who's work with the 
crop I had interrupted. She was now flushed and said she was simply teaching 
Prune a lesson. And this girl called Prune took the opportunity to burst out 
in what seemed a single word, 
'Pleased-to-meet-ya-mister-get-me-the-hell-out-of-this.' We all then sat 
down to sip coffee to the turn of my wife's ankle chain and I wondered what 
the hell I'd walked into. 

Westley paused, then looked down at me as though figuring I wasn't believing 
a word. But he continued on as if wanting to get it off his chest. "I know 
what you're thinking, Avon. I should simply have picked up Ginevera and 
carried her out to the car. That would have been the end of it. But coffee 
to the Americans is the same, more or less, as Tea is to us. I found myself 
sipping away with three females, one of them my wife, while the girl hanging 
to one side seemed to have given up hope. I was getting ready to make an 
announcement when that Hattie woman announced her immediate departure and 
apologized for intruding upon a family visit. At that point she and the one 
called Ma allowed the hanging girl to get her feet back on the ground. But 
they instantly retied her hands from over her head to behind her back, 
adding ropes around her elbows for good measure. I don't think the girl 
could have fought, but the ropes would have prevented any useful struggle. 
You've been tied with your elbows touching behind your back, I assume. Well, 
a noose was put around her neck and Hattie said goodbye to all. Then she 
marched the naked girl out to the car where she loaded the unprotesting girl 
into the trunk. It was slammed down and the car disappeared quickly. I 
turned to sit down again and listen to the damndest story a man could hear." 

Westley shook his head in disgust. "Seems as if Ginevera had been Ma's 
prisoner more than once, and for some crazy reason I can't explain, the two 
of them had come to some sort of understanding. There was even a strange 
degree of affection in which the older woman was now emotionally dependent 
upon my wife. My wife looked at me to say she couldn't possibly leave Ma 
stranded without a girl to chain and punish so would I please arrange for 
one of the Trinity girls to take her place? And, little by little, my wife 
sold me on the idea that it would only take a little while to make the 
exchange and then everybody would be happy with a clear conscious." 

Westley looked down at me tenderly, his voice almost apologetic. "I suppose 
by now you know why you're here...." 

So that was why I was in New York! I looked down at my hands with handcuffs. 
My first thought was to protest, even to try and run. But the second thought 
was oddly one of excitement. "Why me?" I asked innocently. 

"Because you're intelligent and because of the length of your sentence you 
wouldn't be Ma Bristol's slavegirl forever." 

"But suppose I don't want to be a slavegirl?" 

"You're a slavegirl already, sweetheart. You can't possibly escape unless 
you throw a skid under that beautiful scheme your grandmother hatched up 
with Lady Alyth. You're hooked." 

He was right, of course, I knew I was hooked. Grandma imposed a greater 
restraint upon me than any chain could. I did some rapid thinking which 
ended with, "Okay, Master, when do we leave for the farm." 

I knew Westley liked the "Master" bit and his assurance was earnest, "You 
don't have to worry about-your sentence, Avon. At the end of six months, 
Ginevera and I will come and take you home. If you think by then Ma really 
deserves another girl, we'll get her one. If she hadn't been so sold on the 
idea of really beautiful girls, she could have kept that poor creature they 
called Prune, the one Kattie Simpson walked away with." He patted my cheek 
in a brotherly sort of way. "You're taking this remarkably well, Avon. I'm 
going to take you out to dine." 

"Handcuffed?" 

For answer he produced the key, put the handcuffs back in his pocket, and 
told me to go and make myself beautiful in the finest dress I had. I wasted 
no time. 

One of the nice things about Westley Wallace is that money doesn't matter. 
Trinity Castle kept a constant stream of funds flowing his direction. So 
when he takes a girl to wine and dine, she knows she's had the best. By the 
time we came back to the hotel room I would have been ready to go anywhere 
he asked. But first we reverted to what, for me, was simply normal. 

"Take off your clothes, sweetheart. A girl in clothes isn't really a girl at 
all." 

I knew I'd obey but it wasn't all that easy. I'd worn these garments just 
long enough to make me want to wear them longer. Men just don't understand 
that girls enjoy their clothes. In less than a minute I was naked and 
kneeling at my master's feet. The next thing was the handcuffs but I knew 
I'd get them anyway so I meekly offered my wrists. With everything perfectly 
normal, Westley suggested brandy. Brandy helps anything. 

I had to pour. I did so happily, still glowing from the fine dinner and 
wine, plus the warmth that Westley Wallace projected onto me. Girls adore 
being loved and I really felt this man cared for me. Happily I knelt at this 
feet. We sipped cautiously, neither of us wishing to get looped. 

Conversation with Westley is a gift every girl should share. He has that 
gift of making every mundane thing seem hilarious. We had given the more 
obvious topics a good going over before the voice of Trinity spoke through 
Westley's lips. "About this whipping, Avon, my pet, would you like to get it 
over and done with?" 

Tossing caution to the winds and replacing it with mischief, probably from 
too much wine and brandy, I said, "You can't possibly whip me, Westley, 
we're in a hotel suite in New York and what on earth would you tie me to?" 

"I'll think of something." 

"For instance?" I was pushing my luck. 

"Couldn't you just stand up or bend over or something?" 

"No girl could. Oh, Westley, be merciful." 

His eye roamed the room. "How about that ottoman thing? I'd have to tie your 
knees instead of your ankles, but it should work with your wrists tied to 
the other two legs. Make a nice change." 

I pouted my prettiest pout. "I think it's simply horrible. I'd feel like a 
turtle without a shell. And it would probably hurt a lot worse than being 
tied the proper way." I grinned at him. "Why don't you call the desk and see 
if they can bring up some sort of device. I can't possibly be the only girl 
who gets her bottom caned in a hotel suite." 

"Very funny." Westley was beginning to enjoy me. "How many strokes does a 
girl get in the ritual affair at Trinity?" 

"Fifteen," I lied. 

"You know that's not true. Try again." 

I worked my pout overtime. "Well, maybe twenty." 

"That's better, Avon. In your case, right now, it is twenty-one and will 
continue an upward trend so long as you feel so foxy. Understand?" 

Without regard for consequences, I drank more brandy and continued by 
reckless course. "Yes, Master! I am now to receive twenty-one strokes on my 
bare bottom. Could we make it for some time next week?" 

"We won't be here next week. And if you continue like this, the figure 
advances to twenty-five." 

Brandy can help a girl only just so far. The promise of twenty-five across 
my bare bottom brought be back some. I continued to pout but said with 
enthusiasm, "I couldn't bear twenty-five, Master. If I was caned here and 
now could you be satisfied with the original twenty?" 

"Twenty-one." 

"Tied down across that ottoman thing?" 

"Can you think of a better way?" 

"I could picture a girl with tied hands facing a door and the rope lifting 
up her arms and tied on the other side somewhere. Would you, Master?" 

"What I should do is wait until you're sober and then give you a good 
thrashing to cement this relationship. I doubt it hurts all that much when 
your pickled." 

"Oh, but it does, Master. It hurts terribly." 

I became aware that Westley was never short of rope. He produced a coil and 
led me to the bedroom where he tied one end to the links of my handcuffs and 
threw the rest over the door. I stood against that damned door, my breasts 
tighter and tighter against its cold wood while Westley fiddled out of sight 
and my hands rose higher until I was on tip toes. It was not the way I would 
have chosen to end a nice evening. 

"Trust a woman, a woman always knows." Westley running his fingertips up and 
down my spine and over the curves of my bottom. 

I looked back over my shoulder in what I hoped was deep reproach for what I 
was about to receive. I don't suppose another stroke one way or the other 
makes much difference really but I somehow didn't want that extra one. 
Breathlessly, I awaited and wondered if Westley's strokes would be worse 
than those of Lady Alyth. 

Nothing happened. After a while Westley let my hands down and untied the 
rope to leave me only handcuffed. He ordered, "Make us another drink, 
sweetheart. You've had your whipping and it has been duly noted. Get with 
it." 

"But I haven't been whipped at all." 

"That's right, and you're not going to be. But I'll enter it in the book 
because no one but you and me is ever going to know. Come on, we have other 
things to talk about." 

I adored him utterly. I suppose this just proves a girl can be mastered by 
the whip. But I knew in my girlish heart I was more than half way to being 
in love with Westley Wallace. When it came bed time, my handcuffs were 
changed from front to back because Westley said it was more fun that way and 
a girl wiggled around like a fish out of water. I wouldn't have minded if he 
made me lay on sharp spikes. 

In case you're interested, I learned a lot of tricks I hadn't known. 

It was a long overnight drive to where we had to go. Over breakfast we 
discussed my disposal. I had little trouble choosing between the wearing of 
clothes with handcuffs as opposed to being hogtied and naked in the trunk. 
Westley was an absolute darling, and if any girl has to be kidnapped and 
have a master, I recommend him highly. We giggled a lot on the journey, 
especially when my handcuffs were taken off and returned very time we 
stopped for a cup of coffee. We only took a chance one in a tumbled down 
place and the lovely steel upon my wrists drove our waitress into a frenzy 
of conjecture that Westley was a plainclothes policeman taking me to prison. 
And when, in a thrilled whisper, she inquired my crime, I simply said I'd 
murdered my husband and thereby earned her respect. You just can't tell 
about people. 

The place in which we spent our second night was a moderately expensive 
motel on the outskirts of some city or another. But what was most evident 
when I saw the room was a post in the middle and some rafters above. I don't 
know if Westley knew this motel or not but he couldn't have chosen a better 
place for binding a girl. It was a homey room, in which I could be fastened 
most anyway. I pretended not to notice the post or beams but Westley 
inspected them with obvious glee. I knew ideas about my body were going 
through his mind. Evidently our journey had made my master horny. 

I was well passed the point of argument and so offered Westley my wrists for 
him to remove the cuffs. I stripped naked and arranged myself with face 
against the post without being told to. It was wonderful, really, the way we 
didn't have to speak. He used the handcuffs to fix my hands on the other 
side of the post, then some of his rope to cinch my tummy tight against the 
wood with many strands of rope. Every time he tugged I knew my bottom 
protruded one more inch. I wished for a cocktail because I was pretty sure 
what was coming next. 

I got precisely twenty-one, delivered without haste with an instrument that 
was by no means harsh. The whipping was not quite up to Trinity standard but 
Westley and I both understood the way it would salve his conscious should 
the subject ever arise. For my part, I did not scream but held tight to the 
wooden post until the pain-giving was over. Then I said a rather sincere 
"Thank you, Master," to Westley. 

For supper we sought a small restaurant where I tried to sit down as if it 
did not hurt. I know Westley was waiting of me to wince but I managed a 
minor victory and smiled at him. As we ate, I felt myself thinking of the 
night before and what I would receive again tonight. Westley was damned good 
and I found myself envying Ginevera. Everything was crazy and I had to 
wonder if I wasn't the craziest of the bunch. 

It was wonderful to be owned by Westley, he was so much fun and made me 
laugh even when I was hurting. I'm sure he knew what I was thinking, and 
when at long last we drove into the run-down farm yard, he reached over to 
gently pat one of my chained hands as though to tell me everything was going 
to be all right. For myself, I was in a dither of doubt and wishing I was 
safely back at Trinity. 

Everything was as Westley said, even to the cups on the table and the pot 
simmering on the stove. There was the middle-aged woman. There, also, was 
the naked girl who wore chains but who came rattling across the floor to be 
embraced and kissed by Westley in what seemed to me to be a lukewarm 
sentiment on both sides. I remembered I asked Westley about his wedding but 
he had brushed the subject aside. But that was their affair. I stood there, 
fully clothed but demurely handcuffed. 

Ma Bristol gave me a long, hard look before her features softened some. It 
dawned on me that she was comparing my curves against those of Ginevera! And 
I'll admit, Ginevera was first class all the way. But I could hold my own 
with most any girl and finally Ma Bristol smiled, apparently satisfied that 
she was not getting the dirty end of the stick. 

We sorted ourselves out and coffee put the finishing touch on our 
acquaintance. I couldn't help but notice the way the older woman and the 
chained girl touched each other and exchanged glances. For them there was a 
sadness, and I remembered the lines, "Parting is such sweet sorrow." As 
usual, everything was nuts! 

"I ain't been sure about this whole idea," Ma Bristol finally admitted. "I 
got me a gal what suits me fine. And I said there wasn't no way I'd ever 
part with her. But, Mr. Wallace, you done me proud. Where the hell do you 
get them?" 

"I have a relative who keeps a number of them on hand," Westley said 
modestly. "You'll find Avon as well trained as she is beautiful." 

"How 'bout she gets them clothes off? Let's have a look." 

I had to be embarrassed. This was the strangest strip I've ever had to do. 
Ginevera would be a hard act to follow. But if this farm woman rejected me, 
I hadn't lost a thing. As thought we rehearsed the act, Westley freed my 
hands and I began the business of baring my body. 

When I was totally nude, I turned to Westley with outstretched hands to get 
my wrists locked tight again. I could tell this simply act of submission 
pleased our hostess. I was getting vibes from her in increasing waves of 
approval, which I now intensified by striking a pose in the center of the 
kitchen floor to slowly turn with my hands above my head and then, as though 
affirming their helplessness, to place them at the back of my neck. I 
offered Ma Bristol everything I had. 

After a while I stood still and returned my hands to normal. This jerked my 
new owner out of what appeared a trance, and turned to a grinning Westley 
Wallace to proclaim, "I wouldn't have never believed it. And I ain't never 
going to let this one go." She paused to stare me in the eye. "This deal 
we're making okay with you?" 

It seemed silly to just say yes, so I held up my handcuffed wrists and said 
with a sweet innocence, "I don't have anything to say about it. I'm a slave 
and, if you're willing to give up Ginevera and keep me instead, I'm sure Mr. 
Wallace will give you a bill of sale." 

My sarcasm went unrecognized. But parts of me were prodded by hard fingers 
to make sure I was real. Then a silence fell upon the group for a few 
minutes, as if no one was quite sure what came next. Finally Ma Bristol 
produced keys and unlocked the padlocks on Ginevera's ankles. The hobble had 
never been leg irons or shackles, but simply a length of chain passed around 
and locked upon each ankle. Rising from her feet, Ma Bristol kissed the girl 
who had worn her chain so long. Then, with practical good sense, suggested, 
"You want to wear Avon's clothes, sugar? She ain't gonna need them no more." 

I think Ma Bristol was beginning to think of the occasion with some joy. 
Holding the chain and the two padlocks, she sought my eyes. "You know if I 
lock this chain on those ankles of yours, it will be for keeps?" 

"Yes, I know." 

I expect she was being fair and offering me a way out because she added, 
"There ain't no way you'll ever get loose. You sure you can take it?" 

I repeated my act with the handcuffs and a bland assurance, "I have to take 
it. I told you, I'm a slave." 

I wondered if Ma Bristol realized how easily the three of us could have 
walked out of that house and out of her life. And if she realized the depth 
of Ginevera's affection. Suddenly she knelt and all three of us watched her 
chain possess my bare ankles and the padlocks make their authoritative snap 
to tell me I had passed from one owner to another. Ginevera donned my 
clothes without concern over being watched. Then there was a good deal of 
kissing and hugging. But finally I stood alone in the farmhouse kitchen 
while my new owner accompanied them to the car and waved them out of her 
life. For me, it was a double poignant moment and I could swear I felt the 
heat of Ginevera's flesh still in her chain. I was thankful to wipe away a 
tear before Ma Bristol came back. 

I felt more helpless then I really was. I could walk slowly and use my 
joined hands. But I was very aware of how completely helpless I was. There 
was simply nothing I could do to get my hands or feet free. I envied 
Ginevera her possession of a male. My two nights in bed with him had been 
habit forming, and what he did to me would leave a vacuum in my loins for 
the next five months. I wondered if Ma Bristol knew I would be taken from 
her at them time. But it was a subject I had best keep quiet about. When her 
bulk darkened the door and she stood there looking at me as though she 
couldn't believe her luck, I blurted out, like a silly kid, "I'll be very 
obedient, Ma. Please tell me the things I have to do." 

She didn't say a word but took me in her arms and held the two of us cheek 
to cheek as she whispered, "You don't have to do nothing, sugar, except help 
with the coffee and dishes. What I want is just to see you around. You got 
whipped a lot back where you come from?" 

"Yes, quite often." 

"And tied and chained and locked away?" 

"Yes, all of that, too. Mr. Wallace told you I was well trained." 

"Well, sugar, I ain't gonna make no promises. I may do all them things or 
just keep you around as a sort of pet. Most of the time I'll just keep your 
feet chained the way I did Ginevera. Worked fine for her, will for you, 
too." 

I kicked my foot to test. It was quickly snubbed to tell me how simple and 
effective it was to deter escape. I couldn't think of anything else to say 
so I went back to being a little girl again with a simple, "Thank you." I 
could feel Ma growing more and more pleased and confident. Evidently I met 
her standards. And since I was effectively chained, she must have felt all 
was well with her world. 

"They was always looking for Ginevera, and she was always thinking about 
escape. It ain't gonna be that way with you, is it, sugar? What I mean is, 
there ain't no one coming to tell me I got to give you up because you belong 
to them, is there?" 

"No, I belong to you completely." 

It must have been at least an hour since we had coffee but I was now told 
we'd have it again while we talked. And it was me who would do the honors. 
The handcuffs wouldn't bother me but I wasn't sure about chained feet so I 
took dainty little steps back and forth, which made us both laugh and eased 
the tension. I got to sit down just the same as Ma and we passed sugar and 
cream back and forth until she asked, "How'd that bunch back in England get 
a hold of you in the first place?" I told her the story, couldn't see any 
reason for holding it back. But I refrained from mentioning my six month 
sentence. Once more my guilt returned as I wondered if Grandma would 
consider my present condition as punishment. When I told Ma about this, she 
had a ready answer, "You ain't meaning I got to whip you every day, sugar?" 

"Not really. Not unless you want to. Trinity Castle had a dungeon and cells 
and things like that. If you feel an obligation, I'm sure you can think of 
something." We were giggling like old friends. I felt safe with this woman 
who probably saw me as a gift from another world. 'Then hold about do 
something to you every day? Like tying you to a tree out in the yard? Or on 
the back of a horse? Bet you've noticed all these rings I've got around the 
walls." She chuckled at memories. "I tied poor Ginevera to them every which 
way. Them rings is good. And I can tie a girl to them in more positions than 
you could ever dream. Would your grandma figure that was rough enough?" 

"I'm sure she would. But don't feel you have to." 

"Shit, honey, I'll be telling you, it ain't your grandma I'm doing it for, 
it's for me! The two of us is gonna have the grandest time. Sugar, the way I 
got you fixed right now, you're so damned beautiful!" 

So far, so good. I thought of Trinity but there was no way to compare that 
place with Ma Bristol's farm. Her eyes followed my chained wrists lovingly. 

"What we'll do now. sugar, is give you the grand tour. There isn't much to 
see but you might as well see what there is. Come on now, I'll hold your arm 
so you won't trip." 

On our cautious journey to the barn I realized this was a whole new deal. I 
wasn't so much a prisoner but rather a sort of model, a manikin on which she 
could try out her bondage inventions, a subject to be posed and fastened. 
But I sadly realized the chains upon me now were also necessary to insure I 
did not run away from an obsession I did not share. 

The barn was in even worse shape than the house, and there were several 
sheds and a corral. All were plentifully equipped with iron rings stoutly 
fastened to the ancient wood. To a number of these I was attached as Ma 
invented excused for leaving me alone. But she was never gone more than a 
few minutes so all I got to do was take a good look at her rings. And there 
was one plain, ordinary metal snap which Ma used on my handcuffs as she 
might a tethered horse. It was such an ordinary looking thing I was tempted 
to see if I could get free. And I spent ten busy minutes discovering I could 
not. While it didn't matter much now, I caught a glimpse of how it could if 
the barn was on fire or Ma had a heart attack. If she left me there a month, 
I could not have gotten away. 

It was a pretty country, Ma's bit of land. There was a slope looking down 
into her pasture which contained several grazing horses. And there was a 
stretch of woodland in which I was told I would soon be tied to a tree. On 
the way back she was struck by inspiration. 'Tell you what," she said, 
"let's go visit Hattie Simpson. I'd like to check up on that poor gal I give 
her as a gift. I was real mean to that there gal and I'm wondering if Hattie 
knows where to draw the line when she whips her ass. I'm willing to be money 
it's the first thing she done when she got her home. Want to come for the 
ride?" 

I was grateful for the ride but not a bit sure about being naked in the car. 
Ma laughed my apprehension aside. "No one around here cares a damn about 
stuff like that. There's old Hawkins who lives way over west. He strips his 
daughters down naked every Thursday and whips their bare hides until they's 
a pretty pink. And if any neighbor comes along while he's doing it, they're 
welcome to stay and watch, or maybe give the poor critters a few licks 
themselves. Every so often he gets his wife in on the act. And I'm telling 
you, sugar, they're a real happy family." 

Before we got into the cat Ma felt the urge for change. She unlocked the 
cuffs and from the trunk selected a length of quite thin cord. 'Turn around 
and cross your wrists behind your back, love," she ordered as if this were 
something we did all the time. But I grinned and did as I was told, standing 
passive while the cord bit and looped and tugged until Ma's final knot 
proclaimed a bond from which I would never get free. I was then picked up 
and dumped in the front seat by a woman who's strength was almost 
frightening. 

I was now twice as helpless as before but it didn't matter much because it 
was nothing new. Trinity had made certain I sampled steel and cord and strap 
many times. So I settled down and made myself as comfortable as a tied girl 
can be. And I listened politely while Ma did the talking. When we got to the 
Simpson place, I was marched to a house a little bit more modern than the 
one we had left. Ma assured me earnestly that while Hattie would certainly 
wish to use a riding crop on me, there was no way this would be allowed. 
Inwardly I chuckled because it seemed from the way these people talked and 
acted a girl's main purpose in life was to endure a series of punishments. 
All painful enough to keep her skin forever marked. 

I sighed and wondered where Westley and Ginevera were now. 

It's wonderful the way these people walk in on each other. I was primed to 
meet Hattie Simpson, but I wasn't prepared for her husband. Mister Simpson 
was repairing a harness on the kitchen table and, when Ma marched me in, I 
could tell he thought he had died and gone to heaven. We were instantly 
regaled with more coffee and when I said thank you, I'd had enough, I was 
told curtly that in this house, no one ever refused coffee. I'd drink it 
whether I wanted it or not. Since I had no hands I was assured from three 
directions of an earnest wish to lift the coffee cup to my lips. My skin was 
crawling under Mister Simpson's gaze. 

I was told that having a naked girl around the place was a new thing and 
that I should therefore go and stand in the middle of the room where they 
could all enjoy the view. I was also told I didn't need to turn or do 
anything but stand up straight so they could admire my front. 

I stood and blushed, which pleased them immensely, and Ma was complemented 
for having my hands tied behind my back which assured a good view of the 
front parts for I couldn't cover them in any way. Ma Bristol firmly declared 
a policy of "hands off but did kindly concede Mister Simpson a cupping of my 
breasts with his hard and horny hands as if he had a real need of making 
sure they were real. By the time my blush began to fade, I was enjoying the 
whole affair. These people lived in a world I hadn't known existed. To them 
I represented something they probably could not name. 

"It ain't that I'm complaining, Ma," Hattie said earnestly, "but this here 
gal you're showing us now makes the one you give me look like a pullet which 
ain't been eating regular. Couldn't Hank and me whip this one just once?" 

It shows the degree of respect in which Ma Bristol was held that they 
accepted her "no you can't." I give you one already today, and I only brung 
Avon over because I knew you'd be curious. Lay off the kid or I'll take her 
home." 

What I want to know is where these gals come from?" Mister Simpson pondered. 
"You come up with a pair of real beauties, Ma. And that one Hattie's got 
tied up in the old chicken coop makes a real good screw. But the whole time 
I was working on her, she keeps on about wanting to go home and wouldn't I 
quite if she give me a blow job." He looked at us confidingly. "I ain't 
never had no blow job. Guess I should have asked her what the hell it was." 

"I doubt you'll find out," Hattie said. Then she turned to Ma Bristol. "That 
Prunes' gonna be real handy with Hank so he ain't bothering me all the time. 
Ma, I gotta thank you again for that little bit of fluff. She ain't no way 
as good as what we're looking at right now. But she's got all the right 
parts in the right places, and Hank's as happy as cat with two tails." 

"Look, Hattie, you ain't whipping that girl to bits, are you?" 

"You don't have to worry. I got to thinking on the way home. The girl's was 
cropped pretty good and I figures I shouldn't wear her down too much or she 
won't be much good to Hank. And, anyways, I'll chain her feet and make her 
earn her keep. Ma, you give us a whole new life." 

While everyone was sharing the overflow of good will, Hattie suggested that 
since they had a good look at me and I didn't want any coffee anyway , so 
why not take me to share the chicken coop with Prune while they visited. Ma 
thought this a good idea and, even though Mister Simpson had no wish to 
loose sight of the way I was put together, he didn't say a word. First thing 
I knew I was inside a musty old trap of a place who's roof was supported by 
a couple of poles about ten feet apart. To one of these the girl called 
Prune was tightly tied with a severity to gain my instant sympathy. She 
looked at me with curiosity but at the older women without hope while they 
debated the manner in which I should be fastened. Hattie favored what she 
called "bang up job" but Ma Bristol firmly ruled that since I was already 
helpless all they needed was a noose around my neck tied well up on the 
other post. When this modest piece of bondage had got me safely anchored I 
could walk towards my fellow prisoner only a few feet before my neck was 
snubbed. We were then left alone. 

Prune was not a prepossessing young woman but her need to talk was urgent. 
Her story spilled out in a steady stream of obscenities to end accusingly, 
"I'll bet if you tried hard enough you could get free of that pole, then you 
could come and get these ropes what are cutting me in two off. Hell, we 
could both take a powder and they wouldn't know." 

"I can't take a powder, my feet are chained." 

"Well, at least I could get away. And, if you wants I could send the cops 
after you." She gazed at me in reproach. "If someone don't help, we gonna be 
here for life." 

"If I could reach you, I'd free you," I assured. "But you can see how I'm 
fixed. I can't possibly free myself. Tell me about you and Ginevera." 

"I'm ashamed about her," Prune admitted thoughtfully. "This is the first 
time I've ever been tied up. And back then when they Rooster boys had her 
spread out on the bed with her wrists tied to each post, I didn't figure it 
was all that bad. There was lots of time I could have cut her loose but I 
would have had to run with her and I didn't figure it made sense...." 

"Didn't you feel sorry for her?" 

"Hell, no, that bunch of assholes was giving it to her regular. And if she 
hadn't been tied, she probably would have enjoyed it. Jeepers, being tied 
that way day after day...." 

"But, Prune, you're not chained at all the way I am. Are you sure you can't 
find a bit of slack in those ropes?" 

"Shit no! If I could have wiggled out of this, I'd been long gone. And I 
wouldn't care how naked I was, I'd run for a main road and hightail it down 
the center until somebody picked me up." Prune gazed at me hard. "This whole 
thing don't make no sense! There's no money in it! I don't know about you, 
but there ain't nobody's gonna ransom me. Are these people a bunch of 
kooks?" 

"I suppose you could call Mrs. Simpson that but the woman who owns me isn't 
like that at all. Look, Prune, I've got friends. I'm bound to get rescued 
sometime, and when that happens I'll make sure you get rescued, too." 

Unhappily, Prune said, "I'm afraid it won't happen for a while. You're here 
because you wanted to be," she accused. "Didn't take me long to figure that 
out." I couldn't answer that one because it was true. "I just came her to 
get that Ginevera," Prune continued, "I didn't know I was gonna to run into 
no bondage club convention. Shit, just look at me! And I got a sore bottom 
to boot!" 

"Are you sure you don't deserve it?" 

"You mean because I slept with them Rooster boys? And the chaps upstairs? Or 
that I didn't cut her loose when she asked? Hell, I wouldn't wish a riding 
crop across no girl's ass no matter what she done." 

I sighed. This girl was emotionally mixed up and that was understandable. 
But her callous treatment of a girl she could have helped made me feel she 
wasn't the best companion in the world. I was about to say something 
disagreeable but was interrupted by the entrance to our coop of an obviously 
enraptured male. 

I had never seen him before in my life. 

 CHAPTER FIVE - Ginevera 

No girl likes to be chained and locked inside a dungeon. Ginevera was not 
even certain why she was thus treated, which left her uncertain whether to 
laugh or cry. She suspected Lady Alyth was having fun. But a girl could 
never be sure of Lady Alyth. Or, for that matter, of Westley Wallace. And, 
in the meantime, the dungeon's creeping dread was clutching at her nudity 
even through the air was warm. It was very much a case of going back to 
square one. 

The chains were what Ginevera thought of as the "full treatment." Every bit 
of her was fettered with heavy links and bands and locks. There were even 
bands and chains locked around her arms above her elbows. In a voyage of 
discover, the prisoner walked slowly and with effort around her prison to 
the accompaniment of much metallic clanging. Finally she sat back down. 
Everything had the flavor of having been done before. Ginevera knew an extra 
irritation in not being able to scratch her nose because, while her wrists 
were chained together in the ordinary way, they were also attached by a 
small number of links to her waist. No doubt someone in Trinity Castle was 
laughing. 

Ginevera found her plight devoid of humor, seeing it as an ungracious 
welcome to her return from the United States and the Ozarks where Ma Bristol 
had kept her prisoner. It would have been nice to beat her fists against 
something human but all she could do with them was keep them tightly 
clenched. But she did shake her chains in anger. It was an outlet for 
frustration but didn't help much. 

Resolutely she fought back tears. 

Trinity's timing was always perfect. She spent the rest of the day and the 
entire night huddled in the corner of her cell, fearing the night and 
wondering why she was being so harshly treated. It was not until the sun was 
well up in the morning that her new condition was explained. 

In the darkest of dungeons, Lady Alyth Hardcastle would always be a ray of 
sunshine, a vivid assurance that all was right with the world. And, even 
though she sometimes brought pain, her captive would always know that she 
was loved. Thus it was with Ginevera as she began her first new day back 
home. 

"I'm sorry I was away," Lady Alyth said as she kissed her slavegirl gently. 
"I had them chain you down here because I thought it would do you good after 
everything that happened. From what Westley told me, I guess there were 
times you doubted Trinity existed. Welcome home!" 

Lady Alyth took her time with the chains as though reluctant to free the 
lovely limbs. She turned the key slowly and paused in pleasure as each 
shackled fell away from Ginevera's skin. But when at last her slavegirl 
stood entirely free, she asked mischievously, "How does it feel darling?" 

"Wonderful! Oh, Lady Alyth!" 

"I knew it would, dear, I knew these lovely chains would make your 
homecoming more pleasant. Let's have a little hug before I lock on your 
handcuffs. You're so terribly sweet." 

Their hug lasted a long time but finally Ginevera stood back and offered her 
wrists for the familiar bite of steel, which compared to the weight of metal 
she had worn throughout the night, seemed a mere trifle. 

"I'll bet you're hungry," Lady Alyth said. "I don't suppose you want to be 
whipped before breakfast, so let's go and see what the cook has for us 
today." 

Ginevera found herself enveloped in a warm mist of happiness. Lady Alyth 
made everything wonderful, defeating fear and tension, along with memories. 
Ginevera knew herself suddenly starving and was grateful for Lady Alyth's 
arm as she was led to food and coffee and a butler who failed to notice the 
young girl was both handcuffed and bare. Benson was a jewel. Ginevera 
wondered why he had never whipped her bottom the way everybody else in 
Trinity had. 

"I felt sure you'd prefer breakfast before I whip you, dear." Lady Alyth 
sounded anxious for approval. 

"Whipped?" Ginevera was still trying to catch up. 

"To get you back on schedule, dear. Westley told me he'd whipped you at the 
proper time but I'm not at all sure he's telling the truth. And, if he did, 
I suspect he probably did more than tickle. Be truthful, darling, isn't that 
the way of it?" 

"Well, yes, I guess you're talking about what you give all us girls every 
second week ... I'd forgotten." 

"It's going to be so lovely having you again, dear. I've missed you 
terribly. I was terribly upset when you disappeared. Maybe I should never 
send you to American again." 

"Where is Westley?" Ginevera suddenly felt remiss. 

"Do try the grilled kidneys," Lady Alyth urged. "I'm a great believer in a 
good breakfast, especially when a girl is facing....Well, don't let's talk 
about that at mealtimes. You were speaking of poor, dear Westley. Well, I 
have to you he's off on another of those business trips. But he left you his 
fondest wishes and love. And suggested I reduce your ritual whipping from 
twenty to fifteen. I won't do it, of course, but his thought was sweet." 

Ginevera was still trying to get her feet back on the ground after a bad 
night in the dungeon. Doubtfully, she said, "Westley's suppose to be my 
husband. He shouldn't leave me round like I'm a piece of luggage." 

"Well, boys will be boys, dear. Eat your breakfast and don't worry about 
Westley. He'll show up sooner or later. By the way, I'm now offering my 
girls a choice between their back or bottom or a combination of both. It's a 
nice idea and has been well received." Lady Alyth beamed benevolence. "Do 
you have a preference?" 

Ginevera managed to laugh. "What happens, Lady Alyth, when a girl tells you 
she doesn't want either?" 

"She gets an extra ten. I'm sure you won't say anything silly like that." 

"I was thinking of it but I won't. But, about Westley, I'm puzzled...." 

Lady Alyth Hardcastle took a sip of coffee and speared a kidney. For a 
moment or two she actually appeared embarrassed. "I'm afraid I've got a bit 
of a shock for you about Westley, dear. But I'd rather tell you about it 
while you're being whipped." 

Ginevera let the matter drop. She had never expected Westley Wallace to be 
like other husbands, and if he was now bedding down some other girl in a 
foreign land, that would be normal. 'Tell me whenever you want," Ginevera 
said calmly. "But are you going to send me back to the girls?" 

"I really think I should. Do take a slice of this French toast, dear. Oh, 
yes, about the Class ... Miss Prelate was asking after you. She's afraid 
your habits and deportment may have become slack in what she insist on 
calling the American colonies. But she mustn't punish you on your first day 
back. Cheer up, darling. Miss Wingate loves you dearly." 

Ginevera ate busily, wondering if she would ever get back to normal, or if 
in fact there was such a thing as normal for Trinity. On the other hand, it 
could well be that everyone who now touched her life was the only normalcy 
she would every know. She remembered telling someone or the other that being 
a prisoner was her normal condition in life and she expected nothing else. 
So what had she to complain of? She clinked her handcuffs and smiled across 
the table at a lovely woman who owned her totally. When Benson tempted her 
with sweetbreads and pastries, she explained that a girl about to be whipped 
shouldn't eat too much. 

"You're behaving splendidly, darling." said Lady Alyth as she circled 
Ginevera's raised wrists with the familiar leather strap. "If this was a 
punishment, I'd forgive you and let you go. But it isn't that, and we both 
understand what it really is. Don't we, dear?" 

"It's because you really enjoy whipping me, Lady Alyth." 

"That's calling a spade a spade, dear, but, of course, you're right. Give me 
your hand, dear." 

It was fearfully and wonderfully familiar. Ginevera felt as naked as on that 
first day long ago, and just as helpless as she had ever been. Staring deep 
into Lady Alyth's eyes, she went through the familiar motions of tugging at 
strapped wrists. "I think I'd like the whole twenty on my bottom, if you 
don't mind, Lady Alyth. I think don't think I'll ever grow accustomed to 
having my back whipped. Will you please use the cane?" 

"Of course I will, darling. I enjoy caning your sweet rump. Isn't that a 
delightful word for your bottom? Please, count out each stroke." 

"Must I?" 

"Of course you must, I'm in that sort of a mood, darling. Be a good girl and 
pay attention or you'll earn yourself some extras. Or do you enjoy some 
extras?" 

Aware of being in a no-win situation, Ginevera kept silent-except for the 
hateful counting. She knew she could handle somewhere about the first four. 
But if Lady Alyth applied them too fast and too hard, Ginevera knew she 
might become flustered and perhaps miss a count. She did and earned an 
extra, so much more severe than the others that she whimpered in manner to 
leave her ashamed. Had Ginevera been noticing, she would have seen Lady 
Alyth's eyes spark at that extra hard stroke and her breathing increase. 
This owner of Trinity Castle and the girls within fed upon female suffering 
and marked bodies. Ginevera tried to be careful about the numbers. 

When she had called out twelve, the whipping stopped and she was lovingly 
kissed and held tight. "You were asking about Westley, dear," Lady Alyth 
whispered. "Are you still interested?" 

"Of course I am. He hasn't been hurt or something, has he?" Ginevera forgot 
her pain and the strokes still to come. 

"No, he's okay, sweetheart," Lady Alyth laughed. "Westley's always okay, 
he's got a gift for it." 

"Then what is it you have to tell me about him?" 

"Only that the two of you aren't married and never were." Lady Alyth allowed 
her statement to hang heavy in the air. "Blame me, darling, it's all my 
fault. I arranged the whole thing, including that minister, who isn't a 
minister at all." 

"But why!" 

"Because I wanted Westley to produce a son. Or maybe I should say I wanted 
you to make me a baby, a baby who would one day inherit Trinity." 

Enveloped in shame, Ginevera said, "I'm sorry, so sorry, Lady Alyth. Please 
forgive me." 

"I thought it was you who should forgive me." Lady Alyth's tone had returned 
to its customary authority. "You mustn't worry about this, honey, Westley's 
young and you're young and maybe one day it's going to happen. But I've 
cheated you...." 

"No more than I cheated you, sweetheart." Ginevera laughed. "Remember when 
you took me off the pill? Well, Westley put me right back on." 

"Oh? Well ... and it was the same with you whipping. If he did it at all, 
I'll bet he just gave you a light, token attempt at a real whipping. He's a 
terribly sweet boy." 

"But he's gone away and left me." 

"He'll be back, dear, and I'm sure he'll give you all the attention you 
could desire. I suspect dear Westley is habit forming." 

Suddenly it occurred to the hung up girl that she was in the middle of being 
whipped. Lady Alyth's revelation had driven most everything else from her 
mind. But she was somehow grateful that her wedding had meant nothing more 
than a hoax, a dummy run to test her willingness to conceive. On one hand 
she was happy but a new cloud appeared on her horizon. 

"I feel as if I've been demoted," she admitted slowly. "I mean I'm not the 
sultan's favorite anymore. And we don't even have a sultan, either. Oh, Lady 
Alyth, where does this leave me?" 

"It leaves you my favorite girl, darling, just as you were before. To tell 
the truth, I was jealous of Westley. Especially this honeymoon thing in New 
York. I could have murdered the boy when he lost you." 

"You mean I'll be kept naked and handcuffed and sent back to the Class?" 

"Of course. Otherwise you'd be bored stiff." 

"Are you going to finish whipping me now?" 

"Goodness gracious, I almost forgot. I'm so glad you reminded me, dear. I do 
so think these whippings do you girls so much good. You've got eight more 
coming." The whip swished as Lady Alyth cut cunningly and without favor up 
and down the curves held available. The impacts upon Ginevera's smooth skin 
were accompanied by her gasps and the screams bitten off before they passed 
her lips. The eight strokes were neither swift or slow, but beautifully 
measured with Lady Alyth's usual skill. When Ginevera was kissed and left 
alone, she knew everything was back to normal for Lady Alyth's favorite 
slave. 

Ginevera's whipping was over for the time being and that was comforting to 
the hurting girl. Affectionately she thought of Avon and Ma Bristol and 
wondered if Avon was happy in her punishment.... It was at this point in 
Ginevera's musings that Erin came to call. 

It was nice to be kissed and hugged even thought Ginevera had no arms with 
which to hold the nymphet close. But Erin's affection was enough for two. 
Mischievously, the youngster rubbed Ginevera's nipples and shrewdly watched 
the effect on Ginevera's face. Ginevera told her to cut that out, at which 
point Erin simply transferred her attentions to Ginevera's furry patch. When 
this too had gone far enough, curiosity took over. 

"I'll bet it was really wonderful to sleep with Westley every night in that 
hotel in New York. Do tell me how Westley does it to a girl. He still 
refused to do it to me. Sometimes I could scream." 

Ginevera did her best. Any way you looked at it, it was best to have this 
lively girl hanging upon her ever word instead of just standing in solitary 
nakedness. 

"You look so gorgeous like that after you've been whipped, darling." Erin 
kissed two hard nipples and patted Ginevera's pussy. "You're so wonderfully 
beautiful, and Mommy has promised I can take a turn at whipping you. Once in 
a while, I mean. Yummy!" 

Ginevera agreed it was, indeed, yummy and she could hardly wait. "Is Miss 
Prelate still teaching the class," she asked. 

"Oh, that old trout. Of course, she's still teaching. We'll never get rid of 
her and I don't know why Mommy keeps her on. Maybe it's because Mommy 
doesn't want to punish us the way Miss Prelate does." Erin drew in indignant 
breath. "Darling, she actually caned my hands yesterday. It was only two 
strokes on each palm but it hurt. And when I went to Mommy, she simply 
laughed. She told me that maybe next time I'd be lucky and get four." 

"Aren't you suppose to be in class?" 

"I got time off to come and visit you. And the old bitty actually took the 
handcuffs off my wrists so I could give you a good hug. The other girls 
think I'm privileged because I'm Mommy's daughter. I guess they're right. 
And Mommy tells me you're not to be punished for at least your first day 
back in class." The nymphet sighed. "Now I know I can be punished the same 
as any other girl. It adds a bit of icing to the cake. Except I have to 
behave very well. I'll bet Miss Prelate will punish me just to show 
authority. Just you wait and see." 

"You're growing up, Erin." 

"Yes, I suppose I am. And I'm so pleased with the way my breasts are coming 
along. But I'm not sure I want to stay in the Class forever, and be naked, 
and wear handcuffs, and be chained to the floor every night. I keep asking 
Mommy what she's going to do with me when I really grow up, but she just 
laughs." Erin pouted. "I suppose I can marry Westley. If you don't want to. 
Look, darling, please ask him to break my maidenhead when Mommy isn't 
looking. I'm sure it's time." The youthful voice suddenly became anxious. 
"Mommy wouldn't be able to tell, would she? I mean, after Westley's done it 
to me?" 

"I wouldn't bet on it, sweetheart, mothers sense these things. You'd 
probably earn yourself a real punishment." 

"I wouldn't mind, no I wouldn't. I mean, a girl has to start somewhere." 

Ginevera felt better. Erin's chatter was always a delight. And they were 
still involved when Lady Alyth came to give Ginevera back her hands. 

"I want to two of you back in the Class after lunch," she ordered. "Miss 
Prelate is expecting both of you." She kissed them both and left. 

Ginevera could not have asked for a warmer welcome among her fellow 
prisoners and the Class. Even Miss Prelate was cordial and told her to take 
her own time in settling back into the old routine. But, in spite of a 
friendly atmosphere. Ginevera felt deflated. Westley Wallace and New York 
City had been heady stuff. And then there had been the Ozarks farm and Ma 
Bristol. Given a chance to return to that farm, Ginevera would have refused 
but nevertheless carried a lingering memory of something good. 

But now she sat in the classroom, wrists joined by the familiar cuffs, while 
at night her ankle bore its shackle and chain. Everything about her return 
to this captivity left Ginevera in a vacuum of discontent. 

There were undercurrents, Ginevera sensed them. Gradually they took shape 
and form. Miss Prelate returned to being the severe authority with the 
result that many female palms were caned. And the curves of girlish bottoms 
were made scarlet by the crop. When the girls were left alone in recreation 
or before it was time for bed, there were mutterings. But Angela Prelate's 
venom was focused on someone closer to Ginevera's heart. 

An educated man might reason that Audrey Wingate was everything Miss Prelate 
was not. In face and figure the two women were a world apart, as were their 
temperaments. It was understood by all that the punishments Miss Prelate 
inflicted upon her pupils were not motivated by any desire to correct a 
fault, but out of some fire of resentment the older mistress held for the 
young and beautiful. 

The situation was understood by all, and when Ginevera was called to Miss 
Prelate's office she was not as shocked as she might have been. She found 
Angela Prelate behind her desk while and obvious shamed and frightened 
Audrey Wingate stood at attention to one side, cheeks flushed and breasts 
heaving. Miss Prelate wasted no time. 

"I'm about to punish Miss Wingate, Ginevera, dear," she said sweetly. "And I 
wish you as a witness to increase her shame while she enjoys the pain of her 
punishment." Miss Prelate paused only long enough for a single deep breath 
of satisfaction. "The reasons for the punishment are understood, as are Miss 
Wingate's need to obey and endure. We have no mood for pretense here, nor 
for appeals to a higher authority. Miss Wingate, I will be obliged if you 
now remove your clothes." 

Ginevera shrink as she knew herself witness to cruelty for the sake of 
cruelty. And she wondered how much longer Audrey Wingate would endure such 
unfairness before marching into Lady Alyth's office to tender her 
resignation. The unwilling witness clenched her fists and had to watch the 
scene unfold before her. 

Quite obviously the two mistresses had arrived at an understanding before 
Ginevera had entered the room. Even though she was trembling in fear, Audrey 
Wingate had evidently decided to endure one more punishment as the price she 
believe she had to pay for the scrape of authority which earned so generous 
a salary. Without haste but wasting no time, reluctant fingers found the 
fastenings and set a side one garment after another until the young woman's 
loveliness was displayed for all to see. 

"I expect you to stand quite still and remain silent." Miss Prelate spared 
Ginevera a wintry smile. "If you insist upon interfering, you will join Miss 
Wingate in her correction." She turned her attention to the waiting girl. 
"And now, Miss Wingate, as a preliminary to our main task, I will ask you to 
extend your palm, properly taut, for the cane. You will receive two strokes 
on each before your hands are bound." 

The nude mistress swallowed hard. She extended her bare right arm in the 
sacrificial surrender so dearly beloved in the schools of yesteryear. The 
cane cut its agony across Audrey's palm. 

"You other hand, Miss Wingate." 

Audrey's self-discipline was complete. Having endured the same punishment 
herself, Ginevera now watched in breathless admiration as the naked woman 
extended her other palm. It was not that the junior mistress showed no 
response to pain, but her acknowledgments by sounds and motions were so 
controlled as to evoke admiration even in Miss Prelate's eye, and leave 
Ginevera longing to beat cuffed fists against Miss Prelate's face. 

One stroke became two, and two became four to leave Audrey's hands hanging 
limply at her side. 

"When you've wiped away those silly tears, Miss Wingate, you may extend your 
hands to be bound. In front, please, with wrists crossed." 

Once again the total obedience. The briefing before Ginevera's appearance 
must have been total. With obvious pleasure, Miss Prelate wound the cords 
and tugged them tight to slender wrists below the anguished hands. And a 
minute later Trinity's junior mistress stood with hands high above her head, 
tethered from above, in a total revelation of her nakedness. Miss Prelate 
was almost drooling. "As a further punishment, I intend to cane your bottom, 
dear Miss Wingate. Considering your academic background, I'm sure you will 
see this as appropriate. I have no number of strokes in mind but see this 
whole thing as a contribution I made to the correction of your character. 
Prepare yourself." 

It was obvious Audrey found it difficult to remain silent, a difficulty 
Ginevera shared. Both girls swallowed hard before Ginevera found herself 
witness to the punishment of female flesh far beyond the norm. The cane bit 
hard to remove the punishment far beyond anything a girl might expect in a 
Victorian schoolroom. Each impact was a solid thud, indenting feminine flesh 
and etching a weal across the soft skin. Audrey would wear marks from this 
caning for a long time. 

Surprisingly, Miss Prelate was satisfied by far fewer strokes than either 
girl expected. When the caning stopped Audrey's relief was obvious. But both 
the watcher and the watched remained alert. "You are doing well, dear 
child," Angela Prelate viciously said. "It is time now for us to emphasis 
something more personal. Ginevera, if you will be so kind, I would like you 
to apply to Miss Wingate's breasts and nipples such attention as you need to 
firm and enlarge them for the whip. Come alone now, don't be shy." 

Once more authority won. Ginevera felt the command as she might have an 
actually blow. Her eyes met Audrey's and shared her anguish. But her steps 
took her to the semi-suspended girl to gently kiss the already erect 
nipples. Then her teasing fingertips traced lines on the her breasts and 
around the taut nipples. At a sharp command from Miss Prelate, Ginevera took 
an entire nipple in her mouth and sucked. Audrey moaned. When ordered to, 
she switched to the other breasts to suck that tit into a highly rigid state 
and evoke moans of pleasure from the bound girl. Finally she was told to 
quit. Face to face, the two girls stared, Ginevera imploring and Audrey 
forgiving. Then, returning to stand and watch, Ginevera beheld the wicked 
little whip of several thongs. It must have been designed by someone who 
hated girls for the slender thongs were of a perfect size for lashing a 
girl's breasts. 

The voice of authority was relentless, "You would do well, Miss Wingate, to 
keep your breasts well thrust forward for the lash. If you shrink away and 
contort, you will affect my aim and I have no wish to mark your face. I 
consider ten with this pretty little whip across each breast a most moderate 
correction. And, since I don't think we have done this before, you should 
find the experience worth while. And now, dear, before I mark up these two 
fine breasts, I must compliment you on their size and contours and those 
superb nipples, which I assure you will not be cut. Kindly prepare 
yourself." 

The preparation was simple. Fearful of the whip, the junior mistress tossed 
back her hair and stared up at the ceiling and her bound hands, a motion 
which further protruded her breasts. She bravely held that pose as best she 
could as her breasts bobbed beneath the leather thongs. Expertly applied, 
the lash dealt with each breast separately and with an accuracy to cause 
Ginevera to marvel as she beheld first one breast then the other change to 
scarlet. When the second anguished sphere was similarly crimson. Miss 
Prelate put away her wicked little whip and became conversational. 

"You look exquisite, Miss Wingate. I would suggest you contrive to have your 
breasts regularly whipped. I find the effect most pleasing. If I had my way, 
I would redden the breasts of any member of my class whose behavior merited 
correction. A girl's breasts are very personal and I'm sure you will agree. 
Miss Wingate, that to have them whipped is a dimension of punishment more 
effect than the conventional palms or bottom." She smiled upon to anguished 
young women, then continued grandly. "We will now move lower in our endeavor 
to promote character where most desired. I'm sure, Miss Wingate, you are 
well aware of that portion of yourself I have in mind." 

Both girls were instantly aware. Miss Prelate's fine flourish of eloquence 
left them with a longing to scream and somehow break the authority which 
held them both. But neither young woman was prepared for Miss Prelate's 
piece de resistance, which took the form of binding Audrey's left ankle with 
several loops of rope the pulling her foot up high towards another ceiling 
ring. This left the naked victim standing on one foot only to watch her 
other bare limb and suffer the mental anguish of knowing her private sexual 
parts were wide open. When her left foot was higher than either girl would 
have thought possible, the rope was made secure and Angela Prelate made a 
selection of a fresh instrument from the rack upon the wall, a single 
thonged whip of vicious intent. At sight of this wicked whip, Audrey's 
resolve failed. 

"I can't stand any more," she wailed. "You're not being reasonable. No girl 
should ever be whipped on her sex. Please, I beg you, no more ... no more!" 

"Were you not ordered silent, dear child?" 

"Yes, but I can't help it. I have to ask you to stop whipping me. I've tried 
so hard to be as you wish, but you don't know where to stop. You'll kill me 
if you keep on like this." 

"Nonsense, you know it's doing you good." 

The raised leg enabled the leather to find its mark from either front or 
back. Miss Prelate paid no attention whatsoever to Audrey's pleas but 
methodically whipped the exposed sex as though it were a thing which had to 
be subdued. Probably, in her mind, that was what it was. She vent all her 
pent up anger onto that poor girl's sex with vicious upward strokes that 
evoked loud screams from the bound girl. After the third stroke each new 
impact brought Audrey's unfettered foot off the floor to dance uselessly in 
the air as an expression of the pain. 

Miss Prelate whipped away happily to the accompaniment of Audrey Wingate's 
whimpers of protest and pain. It is doubtful if Trinity ever so cruelly 
marked a mistress or a pupil upon her sex. The unusual nature of the 
punishment was emphasized by Miss Prelate's lack of interest in a virgin 
back. When she returned the whip to its place upon the rack, Audrey Wingate 
hung sweating and panting, and almost unconscious. 

Miss Prelate was in no hurry to free her punished mistress. But as full 
conscious began to return to the whipped girl, small motions of revolt 
against the bizarre bondage and Angela Prelate thoughtfully freed the 
suspended foot to return both captive feet to the floor. Audrey looked at 
Ginevera as her leg came down and smiled a pale, wane smile. 

The senior mistress as Ginevera stood to watch and to admire her handiwork. 
Audrey's skin was red from the impacts of the thong with patches shading to 
purple. Gingerly she lifted one foot and then the other to try and ease the 
pain between her legs. The cruelly whipped nakedness seemed a perfect 
picture of submissiveness but, as the last knot was untied to give her back 
her wrists. Miss Audrey Wingate performed a truly shocking act. Her arms 
suddenly swung and with all her youthful strength she implanted a fist in a 
resounding crack across Miss Prelate's cheek. While the senior mistress was 
occupied with shock, Audrey gathered her clothes and shoes and stamped from 
the room. 

"You're excused from class for the rest of the day, dear," Miss Prelate said 
as she rubbed a red cheek and gazed thoughtfully at the closed door. "I have 
decided not to follow up this outrageous incident. That young woman has been 
punished enough today. But will most certainly be punished again. I would be 
much obliged if you would seek her out and try to persuade the silly 
creature to see her punishment in it's proper context. If fear I taxed her 
fortitude a step beyond its limit. I should have spread the several whipping 
out over the afternoon. But really I have no time for the silliness of 
tears. I know you two have a rapport, that's why I invited you here. We will 
now consider the incident closed. You may go." 

Ginevera went. But it was not until she was well beyond the door that her 
clenched fists relaxed within their handcuff, and their owner realized there 
was but one thing she must now do. Resolutely, she turned in the direction 
of Lady Alyth's office. 

An artist would have found delight in the sweetness of the scene. A beauty 
in her customary chair and, draped across her lap like a child seeking 
forgiveness, was the lovely nude form of a girl whose head was on Lady 
Alyth's shoulder and whose arms were around her neck. Audrey Wingate was 
sobbing as though her heart would break. At a nod from Lady Alyth Ginevera 
found a chair to wait in silence for the Madonna-like tableau to run its 
course as Lady Alyth's hand reassuringly patted a bare shoulder damp with 
the sweat of pain. 

"Stand up and let me look at you," Lady Alyth demanded. "Angela suddenly 
went all out on you." Her eyes sought the crying girl's. "Are you sure there 
was no reason for her to punish you like this?" 

"She hates me! She hates me!" Audrey's sobs had given way to a fury of 
injustice. "She hates me because I'm young and pleasant to look at in a way 
I don't think she ever was. I just can't cope with her anymore." 

Lady Alyth raised a quizzical eyebrow at Ginevera to inquire with a touch of 
caustic, "I suppose you, too, have come to register a complaint?" 

"She's cruel, and Audrey's is absolutely right about the hatred and 
jealousy. Oh, Lady Alyth, I'm so mad I could burst." 

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Can't you get rid of the woman? Trinity doesn't need a tyrant. I've kept a 
count and Miss Prelate has caned twenty hands and seventeen bottoms in the 
last two days. That's too much! Oh, Lady Alyth, it's far, far too much." 

Lady Alyth Hardcastle was examining the secret places of a whipped girl, her 
fingertips extracting fresh gasps and moans from lips already overworked 
with expressions of pain. "I'm sure you both think I should discharge the 
woman," she said evenly. "And I don't really blame you." Lady Alyth paused, 
her mind occupied with private thoughts. Then she continued, "I am not yet 
ready to remove Angela Prelate from her office. In many ways she is exactly 
what the Class requires. But, since her animosity is now centered upon poor 
Audrey as we see here now, I think it prudent of me to make a change." She 
gently kissed the brow of a troubled junior mistress and asked, "Would you 
not be better off, dear, as a pupil instead of a mistress?" 

Audrey visibly tensed. Her voice held disbelief. "You mean ... !" 

"Yes, that's what I mean, Audrey. As a pupil you will no longer be a focus 
for poor Miss Prelate's suppressed frustrations. I must tell both of you 
right now that I do not want to discharge her at this time. There is between 
us something which is of no concern of yours but which leaves me with an 
obligation to leave her as the head mistress of Trinity. So let us forget 
Miss Prelate for the moment and consider the best course for darling 
Audrey." 

As the female with most at stake, Audrey had listened carefully and now 
expressed doubt. "But I can't be a pupil, I have to make a living. Lady 
Alyth, you know my circumstances." 

"Don't be silly, dear, of course I know your circumstances and I will look 
after them. As a pupil at Trinity, you will receive the same weekly stipend 
as a mistress. I fear you may have been discredited as an authority because 
of the constant disciplines Angela Prelate has thrust upon you. But you are 
much loved by the pupils and could be happy as one of the girls. I will 
simply have to instruct Angela to leave you alone. She may give you mild 
punishments as needed, but that is all." 

She gently kissed a pair of astonished female lips. "I cannot possibly have 
a class any girl totally absolved from punishment. My daughter Erin is sin 
the Class and you are well aware of her being naked and handcuffed and 
punished whenever she deserves. The same is true of Ginevera. I will make 
certain none of you are injured by cruel inflictions from now on." Lady 
Alyth looked from one girl to the other with her most endearing smile. "How 
does that sit with you, darlings?" 

Ginevera went and knelt at Lady Alyth's feet, gathering Lady Alyth's hand 
and kissing it, before returning to where she had been seated. As if in a 
trance, Audrey Wingate followed suit, kissing the loving hand over and over 
in gratitude. Lady Alyth's hand rested within the lovely black hair as she 
made a gentle reminder. "You have said goodbye to clothes, Audrey, dear. Can 
you handle this?" 

"I must handle it, I have to. The girls have all seen me naked during 
punishments, it is nothing new." 

"And you will be always handcuffed?" 

"Yes, I will be handcuffed. I don't mind being handcuffed." 

"The ones I will use upon your wrists, dear, are in that draw over there. I 
want you to bring them to me and kiss them before handing them to me. You 
will then extend your wrists in their final freedom." 

Audrey went one better, finding the pretty bracelets, she sank to her knees 
before the noblewoman who was her friend, kissed the steel, and handed the 
bonds to receptive hands, the extended her own. Then, for the first time in 
her life, watched Lady Alyth encircle her wrists in shinning chrome, to feel 
the bit of the smooth, shinning metal and listen to the final clicks. When 
her hands were joined, Audrey surveyed the scene almost in disbelief that 
this could happen to a mistress. Then she suddenly remembered that Miss 
Audrey Wingate had become a pupil in a school were she had worked. Suddenly 
there was rapport. Three females looked at each other and glowed. There was 
hugging and kissing. Under Lady Alyth's guidance they went to the dorm where 
Audrey was told to sit upon a cot while her ankle was encircled by the heavy 
shackle, the chain of which was solidly anchored in the floor. 

"There you are, darling," Lady Alyth said brightly. "The best thing for you 
is sleep. But when the girls come they'll want to see your marks and have 
you tell them why you're here. They'll be kind to you, and if anyone is not, 
you must tell me. Please don't mind the shackle and chain, every pupil has 
one." 

They went away to leave the girl who had once been Miss Audrey Wingate, 
junior mistress of Trinity. "Doesn't she look adorable like that," Lady 
Alyth whispered as she and Ginevera closed the door. "Please look after her, 
darling, and try to make her happy. It is going to be a vast humiliation for 
the first few days but she'll adjust." 

"Wouldn't it be a happy solution if you made a gift of Audrey to one of 
these people you wish to please, you know, you've done it with others? The 
way you did with me and that Murdoc woman?" 

"Audrey isn't ready for that yet. Give her time to become accustomed to her 
chains." 

The Class took Audrey Wingate unto itself with joy. They embraced her fresh 
nudity and laughed with her over the handcuffs on her wrists. But among them 
was a growing conviction that Angela Prelate had brought her vindictiveness 
to its inevitable conclusion by reducing her junior mistress to the status 
of a slave. They insisted that a blushing Audrey display her whip-marked 
skin in all the secret places sought out by the whip. Audrey's bottom and 
breasts vividly proclaimed their punishment. And as the cruelty of that 
punishment was more and more revealed there rose up among the Class a 
feeling against the woman who had done it. It didn't help that over the last 
week or so that same woman had dealt most of the pupils pain and punishment 
above the average for Trinity. Groups formed to mutter among themselves, and 
by supper time there was a general atmosphere of discontent. 

Radcliff, the guard, came to unlock Audrey's ankle shackle to enable her to 
attend dinner with the rest. But when the meal was done, the newly enslaved 
pupil was returned to the dorm to wear her metal chain once again until 
morning, an infliction which bothered Audrey little for all she wanted to do 
right now was sleep. But, by bedtime, when the ankles of the other girls 
were similarly shackled to the floor, the pupils were in a ferment of 
revolt, not so much against Trinity or Lady Alyth, but focusing upon the 
woman they believed the true enemy. Among the twenty shackled girls were 
malcontents who discovered in the general outrage over Audrey's wounds a 
weapon to be used in seeking the escape they had dream of since first 
imprisonment. A forceful young woman whose captivity was in its fourth year, 
gravitated by natural selection to a role of leader, a post Miss Diana 
Majors seized upon hungrily. 

"I haven't spoken of this before," she said as her eyes roved the expectant 
faces suddenly at her command. "But I've known for a long time this chain on 
my ankle is coming loose from where it's fastened to the floor. I haven't 
thought about it much because even if I got it free, there was nowhere I 
could go. But now I have a plan for all of us to get the hell out of Trinity 
and to freedom. We can do it if we work together. 

There's twenty of us and, with Audrey and Ginevera there's twenty-two. If we 
get ourselves loose, we can jump Angela Prelate and get the keys. If we deal 
with the bitch who's been punishing us, we needn't bother with anyone else." 
She paused for effect to let her words sink home. "I'll have to pull my own 
chain loose by myself. But once I've done that the next girl and I will have 
four hands to use. And then six and then eight...." She looked around in 
triumph. "Think of it, we're going to be free!" 

Ginevera was appalled. Diana was prey to wishful thinking and longing for 
lost freedom. But she was confronting many handicaps and hazards she did not 
even realize. She would surely find defeat. Ginevera shuttered to think what 
would happen to any girl who instigated and lead so courageous a revolt 
against authority. The best she could hope for was the dungeon and the worst 
was too awful to contemplate. Ginevera stood up to and the voice of reason. 

"Diana, don't start something you can't finish. Supposing we actually did 
drag loose our chain. It would still be locked on our ankle and then what 
would we do with it. And if we did find the mistress' keys they would only 
get us free of the shackle and our handcuffs. We'd still be prisoners inside 
Trinity Castle itself. We've all seen the doors and locks and bars. We can't 
possibly get through. And, even if we got out into the patio, we couldn't 
get over the wall." She gazed around unhappily. "It's a bad plan and I won't 
have any part of it." 

"That's all right for you, you're Lady Alyth's pet. And Westley Wallace, 
when he's around, can't get enough of you. You've got it good." Diana turned 
to her larger audience. "We don't need Ginevera, leave her out of it. And 
leave Erin out of it. She and Ginevera can stay and enjoy their chains. For 
my part, I'm going to see if I can't drag this thing out of the floor right 
now." 

The air in the dorm was electric. Girls were standing on their cot for a 
better view as Diana, desperate and alone, fought her battle with the iron 
symbol of captivity. The task was obviously not as easy as supposed but, 
using her chain for a whiplash effect, she discovered a weapon which, after 
several minutes of intense effort, brought victory. Holding defeated 
hardware in her hand, she held it up to view. "You see, it can be done. Damn 
it, girls, we're going to be free!" 

The dorm split into two factions but the timid and wise were outnumbered by 
those who found in Diana's plan the answer to a prayer. Diana was now 
working with willing hands to find the second anchorage loose enough to pull 
loose. In a small space of minutes the labors met with success and the two 
girls moved on to number three. The atmosphere in the dorm was electric. 

Ginevera could not blame them and wondered if she should not join the 
majority in her search for a freedom she had once desired. She looked at 
Erin and shrugged resignation as the process of freeing feminine ankles went 
on. 

But victory proved more elusive than Diana has supposed. Most of the chains 
were so firmly anchored as to solidly resist the effort of all hands that 
could pull upon them. By the time every chain had been tested, there was a 
total of only seven which had been torn free of the floor and which the 
girls were now busy tying the loose ends to their waists with strips from a 
torn sheet. Ginevera was thankful that Audrey Wingate's chain was one of 
those too solidly fastened to drag free. 

A triumphant Diana now led her troops to seek the enemy but not before there 
had been tearful farewells and promises of help should the revolt succeed. 
When the door had closed behind the seven, the dorm was strangely still and 
silent, as though those who should have been asleep were tensely listening. 

 CHAPTER SIX - Avon 

The last thing I wanted was a man. No girl with her hands tied behind her 
back and a tether on her neck can ever possibly desire a man. Unless she 
knows he's good for a heroic rescue. And maybe good in bed. But it wasn't 
hard to guess the name of the male who stood in the doorway to look at Prune 
and I as though not believing his eyes but grateful for what he saw. He took 
several hesitant steps toward Prune and I, and once more with a strange male 
I felt my blush begin to creep and longed for several hands with which to 
cover everything I had. As it was he got a full frontal view of both of us. 

He was young, maybe not even twenty. He was embarrassed but determined. "I 
ain't never seen nothin' like this," by way of introduction. "I never knowed 
gals could be this beautiful." 

"I'll bet your name's Jimmy Gates," Prune exclaimed as though it was good 
news. "Look, kid, get me untied and you can take me where ever it is you're 
going. I ain't the least bit fussy. Just get me out of here." 

It was doubtful if he heard. He was still busily involved with a visual 
inventory which included four feminine breasts, and a pair of pubic patches. 
It was not hard to guess he had never seen such an inventory before and felt 
the need to comment upon it. "I never knew you gals had all them things," he 
said reverently. "I'm sure glad I come over because I didn't have no idea 
there'd be two of you." He looked hungrily at me. "Mrs. Simpson said I could 
whip a girl's bottom. Gosh, miss, I sure hope it's yours." 

"It ain't hers, it's mine," Prune interjected jealously. "What you're 
looking at don't belong to Mrs. Simpson. Look, you asshole, how about 
untying me? We ain't got all night." 

Jimmy Gates was slow on the uptake but not dumb. "If I untie you, miss, 
you'll just run a way," he pointed out reasonable. "Mrs. Simpson would be 
real mad and I wouldn't get to whip no ass." 

"Shit, all you have to do is fix me the way Avon's fixed. I wouldn't be able 
to do nothing but you and I would sure have ourselves a time." 

Once more poor Prune's words missed their mark. Jimmy Gates was looking at 
me longingly and I'm sure his suggestion struck him as reasonable. "Look, 
miss, if you're just visiting then maybe I don't get to see you no more." 
His tone was sincere and honest. "Couldn't I just whip you a little while 
you're here and then you could lay down so I could have a piece of tail. I 
ain't never had no piece of tail but I bet it would be real good with you." 

Poor kid, I wanted to laugh. There's something pathetic about a man who's 
never made it with a girl, and his request to whip my bottom was so sweetly 
wistful, I almost told him to go right ahead. Fortunately I thought of Ma 
Bristol and told him with a touch of severity, "I'm sorry but I don't belong 
to me. If you know what I mean. I belong to Ma Bristol and can't give myself 
away. Besides, I don't want to be whipped, so why don't you untie Prune over 
there so the two of you can run away and be happy ever after. Just leave me 
the way I am." 

"Couldn't I leave Prune and take you?" 

"No, you can't. Be kind to the poor girl, she's willing to do things for 
you. Get her untied." 

Prune was far from flattered and to emphasis the need for urgency was 
tugging and straining feverishly at Mrs. Simpson's ropes. I would have 
dearly loved to kick Jimmy Gates for his lack of chivalry. But since he 
could not have me, he turned his attentions to what he considered the next 
best thing. He went to work on the binding securing the object of his lust 
to that pole. Prune was in a dither and constantly glancing towards the door 
and the possible appearance of the woman who would probably send Jimmy 
packing and resume operations with the whip. But it was only a couple of 
minutes before Prune stood free, at which point Jimmy looked at me to ask, 
"There, I done it. What should I do with her now?" 

I knew Prune had been figuring possibilities. Her car was at Ma Bristol's 
place. Naked and alone there was no place she could run without the danger 
of being returned to a woman she had cause to fear. Jimmy had a car and was 
thus undoubtedly her best bet. For Prune the giving of her body to a man was 
a trifling thing by which a rich reward might come to her. Decisively she 
crossed her wrists behind her back and demanded, "Okay, go ahead and tie me. 
That way you'll have me safe. But, for Pete's sake, let's get out of here." 
Even through tied and relatively helpless, she strode towards the open door. 
Jimmy Gates turned to me with a motion of apology before hurrying off after 
a girl who could make his dreams come true. A few moments later I heard the 
starting of a car and the shifting of its gears as it left the scene. I was 
suddenly very much aware of being alone and naked and helpless, but consoled 
myself with the reflection that it was a condition of my own choice. 
Disgustedly I leaned back against the pole to await developments. 

The developments were almost instant, triggered by the departure of Jimmy's 
car. I learned later they had been aware of Jimmy's arrival and had been 
chuckling over the boy's embarrassment and ineptitude with the two naked 
girls he would discover in the building where chickens had once laid eggs. 
Mr. Simpson volunteered the opinion that the astonished young man would 
suffer a premature ejaculation at the mere sight of the goodies helplessly 
displayed for his approval. Of course, I'm sure it wasn't in just those 
words. Anyway, his wife belabored her favorite topic of whipping my bare 
back. Ma, secure in her possession of my body and limbs, simply chuckled 
over their convictions. 

I did not feel either happy or secure as my owner and her neighbor darkened 
the doorway to survey the vacant post and discarded rope. I received the 
full brunt of Hattie Simpson's indignation. 

"What's you know about this, you bitch?" she demanded. 

"Jimmy Gates untied Prune and took her away." 

"Then why didn't they take you?" 

"I told him I belonged to Ma and I think he understood. And, anyway a boy 
like that doesn't need two women to keep prisoner." 

"You didn't tell him not to? You didn't scream for help?" 

"What good would it have done?" 

"She's right, you know, Hattie," Ma said. "You can easily pick them two up 
because Jimmy's mother won't have no part of a tied up girl in Jimmy's 
bedroom. He'll have to tie her to a tree in the woods someplace. Why don't 
you go to the Gates place and way until he shows up? You'll have a decent 
excuse for whipping the gal's ass instead of doing it just for fun. It's a 
lot better that way." 

I could understand Hattie Simpson's next demand. "Why don't I do just that," 
she agreed. "But first off I want to whip this pretty trick of yours what 
just stood still and let it happen." Her tone became wistful. "Just twenty 
or thirty strokes, I ain't greedy." 

I cringed. It is awful to be tied the way I was in the face of a woman's 
hunger for female skin. At that moment I wished I had run away with Jimmy 
Gates. I had little doubt that Prune and I would easily have gotten the best 
of the poor boy with promises of sexual delights to spark his lust. Had we 
shamefully exploited those parts of ourselves which set his loins on fire, 
we would probably been free by nightfall. Had we been able to steal his car, 
we could have been far away in a very short time. But the familiar guilt 
took hold to tell me I would never break my obligation to either Ma Bristol 
or Trinity. Or Ginevera. It seemed I was obligated in more directions that 
enough. I was grateful when Ma Bristol untied my tether to the pole and led 
me to the car. 

"That was all my fault, I shouldn't have never taken you over there," Ma 
Bristol moaned as she gave me a sideways wink as we sat in the car. "That 
there Hattie is a real caution the way she's got herself stuck on you. 
Whenever she gets a look at my property a fire gets to burning inside her 
pants and all she can think of is whipping your ass. Sugar, I'm real sorry." 

"What about Jimmy and Prune?" 

"I don't know. I guess I'm a bitch but I'd be pleased if Hattie got her gal 
back so she wouldn't be getting the hots over you." She chuckled wisely. 
"I'll bet that there Prune twists Jimmy around her finger. And she'll 
probably be hightailing it down the road in his car by the time its dark. 
You gotta feel sorry about kids, they is so all-fired concerned about what's 
in their pants. I'm so damned thankful I'm past the age." 

"But you enjoy me the way I am now: hands tied, feet tied, naked?" 

"Sure I do, sugar, but that's different. It's like looking at a pretty 
picture or a sunset. There's a word that I read once. It's 'Elemental'. It 
don't have nothing to do with cunts and cocks and all that foolishness which 
just makes a lot of laundry. You want them hands untied?" 

"That would be nice. Ma. They've been hurting for quite a while." 

"Well, they can hurt a bit longer, sugar. I like you the way you are and 
that's the way they'll stay. Am I being mean?" 

"Of course not, you explained it in what you just said. I'm a slave and a a 
slave expects such things. I'm grateful you don't whip me all the time the 
way Hattie Simpson would." 

"You're a gal in a thousand, Avon. And I'm all-fired grateful to that there 
Ginevera for getting you for me." Ma's tone became wistful. "I sure would 
admire to take a trip to that castle you told me about, that place where 
Ginevera is now, and see with my own eyes them twenty naked girls, all 
handcuffed and getting theirselves whipped once every couple of weeks. It 
just don't see possible." 

"It's terribly real, Ma, and, if you wanted to take me over for a trip, 
you'd get a royal welcome. There'd be a girl being whipped every day you 
were there. And I expect Lady Alyth would let you do the whipping at least 
once. Maybe more. I think you'd love those twenty girl who sleep naked and 
handcuffed and with one ankle chained to the floor. Can you afford the trip, 
it's expensive?" 

"Sure I could afford it. But I'm damned sure there ain't no airline gonna 
let me get on a plane along with you and them chained feet of yours. Don't 
suppose I could even tie your hands. And it's for damned sure I ain't making 
no trip alone." 

"I'd give you my promise, my parole, not to escape. I'd keep my word." 

"It's a damned nice idea. I'll think on it but I got a feeling I'm too 
damned old. I'd be a fish out of water along side that there Lady Alyth you 
told me about." She thought for a while. "I'll be damned if all this talk 
about whipping pretty bottoms and chaining up pretty girls ain't put me in 
the mood, sugar. Would you hate me real bad if I whipped you when we got 
back home?" 

I groaned inwardly. Everything always got back to square one, the infliction 
of pain upon a girl's bare skin. I longed to tell this Ma how much I would 
hate the idea or the act itself of having my skin once more stripped in 
scarlet. But my ever present guilt prodded me into memories of my 
grandmother and Lady Alyth, and of Ginevera. Grandma would wish me to suffer 
the pain of penitence. While Lady Alyth and Ginevera would expect me to live 
up to the standards of a slavegirl. After all, I had in the first place 
volunteered my body for the whip, the chain and the cord at a time when I 
was most ardently concerned with Grandma's conviction I needed these 
punishments. Once more I consoled myself with the thought that the six 
months were steady passing by. At the end of them I would be once more free. 
Cheerfully, I contrived to lie. "Yes, Ma, if you want to whip me, I won't 
mind. I'm surprised you haven't whipped me before this. You're really 
terribly kind." 

It was utterly absurd. No girl wants to be whipped. I will admit the first 
few strokes can often start a fire within a girl's loins, but none of us 
want twenty or thirty strokes during which we scream and make a ridiculous 
spectacle of ourselves. But there was no way I could tell Ma this because 
her hand had found mine to squeeze it in communion far more potent than any 
word could be. I squeezed back hard and hoped she would not lash me with 
more than twenty strokes. 

We made a big thing out of it. On arrival back home, Ma took me to the barn 
where there were upright stanchions supporting the roof, and to one of these 
she tied my wrists at the level of my eyes so I might see each loop as it 
was drawn tight to compel my standing where I was no matter what the pain or 
how great my fear. She took her time and made a very neat job with one of my 
wrists on each side to leave me enough freedom of movement to bounce up and 
down but not too far to either side. It was a most practical tie for the 
purpose intended. And when the final knots had been tugged tight I was told 
to stand a while and give serious thought to what was about to happen. Ma 
put it into simple words, "I'm gonna whip your ass, sugar, and maybe I'm 
gonna whip your back. What I want is for you to stand a while and think how 
it's gonna hurt, and wonder if you ain't done something to make you deserve 
what you're gonna get." She was breathing heavily as she continued. "I want 
you to do this real bad, and then, before I starts in on you, to tell me 
what you've dreamed up. I don't care how innocent it seems, I want to hear 
about it 'cause that way I'll know I'm whipping you for something. Sugar, do 
you understand?" 

"Yes, I understand, Ma. I'll do my best." 

I watched my owner leave the barn, then tried to free myself as a sort of 
obligation to the true me who wanted nothing more than to escape. When I 
confirmed my bitter helplessness, I turned my mind to concocting a simple 
sin to enhance the pleasure Ma Bristol would feel in whipping those portions 
of me she found most potent. By the time she returned I had my story ready. 
With a rueful smile at Ma Bristol's anxious face, I went down the list. 

"I'm always wanting to escape, Ma. I'm sorry but there it is. I wish you 
would take me back to Trinity where you could whip some other girls instead 
of me. I've got a knife hidden in the kitchen to cut the ropes when I might 
have the chance." 

I had made a long list that went on and on until, looking back over a bare 
shoulder, I saw Ma was panting over the stress of emotions I had fed too 
long. To make a complete job of my sins, I added, "Please, Ma, you must 
punishment me now. Please whip me." 

I got whipped for sure. What else is new! by the time I had finished the 
accounting of my sins, my owner was so worked up and choking with the need 
to mark my skin that I couldn't have stopped her if I could. I thrust my 
face hard down upon my arm and tried to think of grandmother as the heavy 
strap bit at me resoundingly. By the time the twenty strokes were half way 
through, I was sweating and hurting. When my owner paused to inquire how I 
was doing, I said yes, I could, and would she please lay on the strap 
harder. Crazy, crazy, crazy! 

Ma Bristol and I had the gift of rationalizing everything. Over dinner we 
spoke of trivial things as if nothing had happened. I knew a strange comfort 
in knowing I could not run because of the chain around my ankles. I guess 
the comfort came with the knowledge that regardless of feelings of guilt and 
punishment, that chain would always keep me safe and from making the wrong 
decision. I was a slavegirl and that was the end of it. 

We were finishing the dishes when Ma heard the sound. She stiffened like a 
pointing dog and then jump through the door for parts unknown. I didn't 
follow-my tiny steps would not have gotten me very far. I went to the window 
and stared in amazement at what I saw, the reenactment of a previous scene 
with Ma Bristol vigorously holding a girl's hair and shaking its owner's 
head back and forth. The owner was as naked as I and her name was Prune. 

She was marched back into the house with arms waving in protest. 

"Stop your yapping and stand still. Cross them wrists behind your back and 
then we'll be having a nice chat. Avon, put the coffee pot back on." 

A firm grip on her hair had subdued our prisoner to a point of resignation 
where she simply did as she was told. The cords went tight on. With a smile 
both pleased and amused, Ma got another length of chain and two more 
padlocks so that within a minute Prune's steps were as hindered as mine. 
Prune didn't seem too happy about freedom disappearing down the road. 

Ma sat her in a kitchen chair, and that was that. Prune was told to come out 
with her story and make it snappy, an order she was only too anxious to 
obey. 

"I come back here to get my car," she explained defensively. "If you hadn't 
taken the key, I'd be long gone. You shouldn't have pulled my hair. I've had 
the most bloody awful time." She paused to wiggled against tied hands and to 
kick in disbelief at a chained ankle. "There ain't no need to fix me like 
this," she complained. "I ain't no wild animal. And if you'll protect me 
from those assholes there ain't nowhere I want to run." She looked up at us 
hopefully. 

"You're safe with me. Get on with your story." 

"When you made a present of me to that Hattie woman, she takes me home and 
shows me to her old man pretty much as she'd shot me out in the woods and 
they were having me for dinner. She lets the old goat take me into a bare 
little room where he lays my on the floor and gives me the damndest screwing 
I'd ever had. I thought I got screwed right royally by those boys back home 
but they ain't got nothing on old man Simpson. When he finished he goes back 
to his harness and tells his wife to take over where he leaves off. So she 
hauls me off to a stinking old shed and hung me up like I was an animal. She 
tied my legs together and hauled them up by the ceiling so I was hanging 
upside down! She then whips parts of me that shouldn't be whipped. Then she 
tied me to a pole. I spent a long time trying to get out. Then you comes in 
and leashes Avon to another pole. You all know what happened. I wish that 
were the end of it but it ain't." 

"You're safe here. Get on with it." 

"Well, this Jimmy Gates fellow turns out a real bummer who don't know his 
ass from a hole in the ground. He had me tied so tight all I could do was 
beef. And I could see right off he don't know whether to whip the few bits 
of me Hattie Simpson hadn't gotten around to or shove his dink in my 
what's-it. He got so damned excited over having me safe so I couldn't do 
nothing and having me naked which I figures he never seen before, that he 
goes off in his pants while we driving down the road." Prune grunted. "The 
kid must have been well brung up 'cause he keeps telling me how sorry he is 
that it happened without my help, and he was sure he could get it up again 
real quick. He must have thought I was real grateful for being used. It 
wasn't long before he finds a bit of woodland with a dirt road running off 
into the trees and he says this is going to be a wonderful place where he 
can whip me all afternoon. I told him what I thought of the whole idea but I 
don't think he was listening." 

Prune gazed upon her audience as if wishing we could share in her travail. 
She gulped and continued. "It must be the climate here abouts or maybe the 
food you eat, but for my money you're all nuts, a bunch of kooks what thinks 
a piece of tail is a sort of appetizer before the main course. What I mean 
is them boys back home wouldn't have thought of whipping a gal unless she 
acted up. I never got whipped in my life until I come here. And now look at 
me!" 

Prune stopped only long enough to give her twisting and tugging at bound 
wrists everything she had. She didn't mind us watching and I expect it was 
her way of telling us to let her go. Her feet were playing footies all the 
time. "That young son of a bitch was absolutely right about them trees," she 
continued. "Didn't matter what kind of a tree or how big or how small, that 
asshole figured out a way to tie me to it. And sometimes he tied me to two 
at once. When he tied me with my back against the trunk and my hands and 
arms pulled way back behind, it wasn't hard to figure what came next. It was 
one time I was glad my boobs ain't as nice as Avon here. But they must have 
been nice enough for Jimmy 'cause he bounced them up and down and sideways 
with a bit of strap I would love to make him eat. I yelled and yelled but 
there weren't anyone to hear. And I kicked out at the young shit until he 
tied my feet. What he did then was worse then the lousy pain. He made me say 
thank you for each stinking stroke he laid across my tits. Ah, shit! And his 
mother probably loved him." 

I have to suppose Prune was getting a kick out of telling us her troubles. 
"When the young asshole figured he'd whipped my front enough, he untied me 
and tried his luck lower down. He must have been saving it up all his life, 
just waiting for me. This time he managed to stay a while before screaming 
into my face like my pussy was a steel trap. Boy, he was getting such a 
charge out of having his first go, I would have gotten a kick out it myself 
if I hadn't been so busy looking around and figuring how to knock him on the 
head. Not that he gave me no chance, 'cause every time he wasn't doing 
things to me he tied my hands the way you got them tied right now. Shit, if 
I ever get my hands free I'll never come west again." 

I felt sorry for the girl. It's one thing for a girl to get herself whipped 
when she understands the reasons. But Prune obviously knew nothing of the 
how or why. I don't suppose she ever heard of human psychology and its 
perverse little turns. I could see how her adventures out west were a shock. 
She was now wound up enough to continue. 

"The young bastard's car was filled with rope and sometimes I got it all. 
But after I landed a few kicks on him and while I was laying down, he lays 
me on my tied hands between a couple of small trees and tells me he got an 
idea I'm really gonna love. First I get one ankle tied up to one tree and 
then the other ankle to the other tree. Shit, my legs were way up in a big V 
and spread wide. He pulled the trees down before tying my ankles to them and 
they tried to bend back, you know what I mean? It felt like they was trying 
to split me in two! Hell, my ass was off the grass and I figured my slit was 
wide open for him to see. But when I sort of got adjusted to laying on my 
tied arms I could look up and see that the lips weren't even apart, and I 
gotta tell you right now it beats all what a girl's cunt can take without 
tearing apart." 

Ma held a cup of coffee to Prune's lips, cradling the captive head within a 
massive arm. Prune drank eagerly. "Well, anyway, you can easy figure the 
jackpot I was in," she continued. "If Jimmy Gates had been wanting to look 
at what a girl's sex looks like, he sure had a chance. I couldn't do a thing 
except look up at his silly face as he stared then got the courage to cop a 
feel. Then he pulled the lips apart and look inside as though he'd just 
opened a Christmas present. He seemed surprised there wasn't more room and 
started using his finger like he was drilling for oil. 

I'll bet he had me fixed like that a good half hour by which time I guess he 
memorized what a girl's sex looked like. Then he began probed my pussy with 
the tool that was meant for that purpose. It was an odd angle but he 
managed." 

Prune sighed. "After that piece of sex he ties me standing but with my arms 
pulled up behind my back, way up so I had to lean way forward. Then he 
spreads my legs and ties my ankles to trees so's my legs are wide open. 
Didn't do my arms or shoulders much good. I figured maybe he was gonna leave 
he hang there for a while or maybe even get the whip again, certainly not 
screw me again so soon. But when he saw what I looked like tied like that, 
up springs that damn prick of his and he brings that damned thing around to 
the back of me." 

We gave Prune more coffee. I don't think either Ma or me were much 
interested in Jimmy Gates's sexual prowess, or maybe I should call it 
ineptitude. "The silly asshole must have been reading a book. He wasn't a 
bit sure which hole he was aiming for. Although the way he had me fixed he 
could have driven a car up either. I didn't aim to give him a scrape of 
help. But it was right about then, seeing me the way I was, he looses 
interest in what he was going to do and decided to whip my ass. 

"There was lots of things he could have used to whip my ass, he had a car 
full of junk. But I'll be damned if he doesn't go and cut a willow switch 
and peels it. I started to promise everything in the book until I realized 
the young bastard had it all anyway. I guess you both know what it's like 
when a girl gets her ass whipped? And I was sure bent over to get it good. 
And what's more, it was on top of what Hattie Simpson gave me already. After 
he swished at me a while, I felt so miserable and damned hopeless I start 
crying like a baby. That's something I ain't done for quite a while. And 
that worked out real good, 'cause he wiped my tears with his shirttail and 
untied everything except my hands. But then he remembers he's got this thing 
sticking up in front so he has me lay down and Jimmy plows away at me almost 
as good as old man Simpson." Prune stopped and sighed. "This is all pretty 
much the same, ain't it? You want I should go on?" 

We said, no, we'd heard enough, but how did she manage to get loose and run 
to where she had her car? 

"He just plain got tuckered out but was trying all sorts of new ideas. Some 
of them meant there would be a few moments when my hands would be untied. I 
simply grabbed an old branch and hit him on the head. I took his car and 
drove here. You saw it sitting out there beside mine." As though she had 
talked her way to freedom, she look up at us with pleading in her eyes. 
"Please untie me and let me go." 

Discretely I kept a slavegirl silence. I knew my place. And what Ma Bristol 
might have said was lost by the sound of another car. It wasn't too hard to 
guess who, but when Jimmy Gates came in the front door, he fell instantly 
beneath Ma Bristol's spell and was as polite and shy as on that first 
occasion. However, since Prune was the real centerpiece, she could scarcely 
be ignored. Jimmy said his howdy-do's to Ma and me, and turned his attention 
to the tied girl in the chair. But Prune beat him to the punch. 

"Get out of here, asshole! Don't you know when you're not wanted. Fuck off!" 

Jimmy was not bothered. Association with Prune had done a lot to cure his 
shyness. He looked to Ma. "Thank you for catching her, Mrs. Bristol. If you 
don't mind, I'll take her back where she belongs." 

"I thought I knocked you out. How'd you get here this quick, you creep!" 
Prune glared. 

"She did knock me out, Mrs. Bristol. She's dangerous. If I hadn't staggered 
out to the road and caught myself a ride, I'd still be out in them words. I 
aim to punish her real good when I get her back where she belongs." Jimmy 
was showing every sign of becoming addicted to whipping a girl's bottom. I 
felt sorry for any girl who attracted his attention. I felt sorry for Prune. 
But it was Ma Bristol who made the rules. 

"You ain't taking that gal no place, Jimmy Gates," Ma said. "Seems to me you 
punished her enough already. You and Hattie Simpson ain't to be trusted. 
Damned it, a gal's only got so much skin. You've used all she's got. Ain't 
you ashamed." 

"But Mrs. Simpson said you gave her to me. Didn't you say I was 
underprivileged or something?" 

"Jimmy, this gal's had all she can take. Best I put her in her car tomorrow 
and send her on her way. The law ain't a bit happy about beating girls up, 
especially when they die. The two of you would kill Prune inside a week." 

Jimmy gulped. He was on dangerous ground. As usual, his eyes fastened on me 
and the fresh whip marks Ma had placed up me that day. He became 
argumentative. "How come, then, the cops don't do something about this gal 
you keep chained all for yourself. Looks to me she's just been whipped, so 
you ain't got no call to stop me beating Prune." 

Ma sighed. Jimmy Gates was young. Her gaze was maternal, as was her voice. 
"Look, Jimmy, you've had yourself a time. You've made a dream come true and 
this is a hell of a lot more than other men do. Why don't you let it go, 
there'll be other girls." 

"They won't let me whip them. I've already asked." 

Ma sighed again. Her youthful visitor had a long way to go. "Look, Jimmy," 
she said patiently, "you don't just walk up to a girl and say, 'Can I whip 
your ass?', or tell her it's your birthday tomorrow and could you lay a 
strap across her tits to cerebrate. Gals ain't unreasonable. And if you work 
at it, you'll find lots of way to get them to take their clothes off. Get 
yourself a nice girl and have her tell you a few things. You'd be surprised 
how many you'd find who like a few slaps with a strap." 

"I don't want to kiss no asses. What I want is a gal who has to obey whether 
she wants to or not. Either one of these two right here would suit me fine. 
Although, I'd sooner have the one you call Avon." 

Ma looked at me mischievously. "Get your handcuffs, sugar, you're almost 
naked." 

I did as I was told. I kneeled before the woman who owned me and held out 
the shinning steel, and implored, "Please lock these upon my wrists, 
Mistress, without them I'm not decent." Poor Jimmy, he was now far out of 
his depths. He watched my wrists encircled. It was easy to tell that for him 
it was a whole new world. And when I was back on my feet and having a girl's 
usual trouble as to what to do with joined hands, he voiced complaint. 

"Avon does that real beautiful, Mrs. Bristol. But this gal you gave me, all 
she wants to do is run away. Ain't no way she'd offer me a pair of 
handcuffs. You got another pair I could buy?" 

"Sure I got another pair but I ain't parting with them. Who was you aiming 
to use them on, anyway?" 

"Maybe on Avon? I was hoping, Ma, that you'd lend her to me a little spell." 

"Don't be silly," Ma disposed of the plaintive request with a wave of her 
angry hand. "Avon can't give you anything that Prune can't give you also. 
And look what you done to her. I ain't lending you no girl, no way." 

Jimmy gulped, his mind hard at word. "Suppose you watch me and Avon, Ma. You 
would be there to make sure I don't do no damage to her. I may never get a 
chance like this again. It wouldn't hurt you to let me use her just a little 
bit" 

"Use her!" 

Jimmy shuffled his feet and deepened his blush. "I was thinking maybe we can 
copulate first. That's what they call it in the doctor's books. And then I 
could whip her maybe just twenty or thirty strokes, anyplace you say." He 
paused to look me up an down. "She's got quite a lot of places, Ma." 

I could have laughed. Jimmy was pathetic, but also heartbreakingly sad, a 
product of a society far from reality. I could understand him reaching out 
to grasp this opportunity to touch a girl who would not tell him she was 
pregnant on the first day. Left to the customs of his tribe, Jimmy would 
marry a girl who would become fat after presenting him with a collection of 
children he could not afford. I'm not the least bit modest about me, and I 
haven't a doubt I represented Jimmy's ultimate longing. Perhaps, had I been 
free, I would have allowed him to find his Eden within my body and upon my 
skin. It's really shocking the things us girls do because we feel sorry for 
a man. I was glad I was handcuffed and my feet chained. 

But even the handcuffs had riveted Jimmy's attention to bring about a 
visible bulge beneath his pants. I arranged my hands to cover as little as I 
could and that showed a little strain between the wrists, as if I was gently 
fighting the steel cuffs. 

"Jimmy, you're out of your class," Ma told the boy, her words tinged with 
the same sadness I, too, had felt. "I know I'm damned lucky having Avon, but 
I got to look after her. And I can't go loaning her around to every man with 
a hard on. Jimmy, you go back home and join one of them correspondence 
clubs. Maybe you'll get lucky." 

"He ain't gonna get lucky so long as all he wants to do with a gal is whip 
her ass," Prune said. "But living out here among all these kooks ain't gonna 
teach him nothing. If I though he wouldn't keep me tied up all the time, I'd 
offer to spend some time with him and teach him a few things about girls." 
Her voice turned bitter as she glared at a sadly baffled young man. "If I 
walked out of here with you, it wouldn't be more than ten minutes before you 
had me tied up so you could beat me whenever you felt like it and I'd have 
to do anything you said. You're crazy!" 

"You're tied up right now," Jimmy pointed out reasonably. "If I didn't keep 
you tied, you'd run away same as you done a while back. If Ma Bristol didn't 
keep you chained, I bet you'd be miles away." Seeking to rationalize his 
argument, he pointed at me. "Look at Avon. Avon's feet are chained so she 
can't run." 

"It weren't me what chained them, it was Mrs. Bristol. She knows about 
chaining girls. I'm just learning." 

My owner looked at me and winked before turning to our two disgruntled 
visitors. "Best thing you two could do is go back home. Hattie Simpson ain't 
no better with a girl than you is, Jimmy Gates, so the best thing for you, 
Prune, is to hightail it back where you come from. I won't be stopping you." 

"What? Naked and with no money? I won't get too far." 

"Don't look like you're going any place in that chair." 

"Who's fault is that? It was you who tied my hands and it was you what 
chained my feet. And, anyway, I ain't sure I want to go back to the 
Roosters. I'll bet they're waiting for me with rope and leather straps." 

Ma Bristol tossed me a key. "Here, take the girl and get her dressed. Give 
her a hundred dollars. You know where I keep the money. This key will get 
the irons off her ankles but won't touch yours. Run along." 

I led a highly suspicious young woman from the room. In the bedroom I untied 
her hands. She immediately whispered, "You come with me. I'll bet there's 
some way we could." 

For answer I simply shrugged and unlocked the padlocks on Prune's ankles. 
Then I showed her that the same key would not work on mine. "Prune, I'm a 
prisoner, I can't run anywhere. You'd best run before Hattie comes 
knocking." 

Prune looked better with her clothes on and was finding comfort in the small 
wad of money I gave her. With her clothed and me still naked, Jimmy Gates 
shifted his attention to me. 

"Get your mind off her," Ma admonished sharply. "We're going with her to her 
car while you have yourself another cup of coffee. Then we'll talk about 
whatever you want to ... so long as it ain't whipping Avon's ass." 

My companions shortened their steps to match my chain. I was so damned glad 
not to be left with Jimmy Gates I didn't care how it hurt to hurry. But the 
opposite now applied to Prune, whose steps became increasingly reluctant as 
we approached her car. She looked at Ma and I appealing to frankly say, "I 
don't want to go. I'm scared. I'm all alone. And I have no where to go to. 
Please let me stay with you a while?" 

"Hustle your butt into that there car and get going," Ma ordered. "I'm 
giving you your freedom, and I'll have to put up with all the beefs I'll get 
from Hattie Simpson and that boy back in the kitchen. Don't you know when 
you've got it good?" 

Ma was not a women to argue with but I felt sorry for Prune as she took the 
keys and got into the car. It gave me a funny feeling to know how I was 
desired by this girl from New York. Not to mention the young man in Ma's 
kitchen. And Lady Alyth. And I guess Westley, too. We kissed all around. Ma 
and I watched Prune and her car disappear into the night. 

"Well, after that I could use another cup of coffee. Come along, sugar. take 
my arm." 

Jimmy Gates was moodily sipping and, as I got Ma her coffee, his eyes 
followed my every move with a hunger I could easily feel. With a pent up 
emotion, he was moved to speech. "If ain't for me to complain, Mrs. Bristol, 
not after what you done for me, but it's real cruel to send that gal away 
when I was getting used to the idea of having her around. Honest, I don't 
know what I'm going to do." 

"You can't have a girl, Jimmy. You know that, you're mother would blow a 
fuse." 

"I would have kept Prune out in the brush where no one would ever know. So 
long as I kept her safely tied to a tree." 

"Hattie Simpson would have your hide and you know it." 

"That may be but the way it is I ain't got nothing." The young male voice 
became plaintive. "Look, Mrs. Bristol, it wouldn't do you no harm to let me 
have Avon one day a week. I promise I wouldn't be too mean." 

"You ain't gonna be mean at all 'cause you ain't gonna get her." Ma was 
tolerant but final. 

"Couldn't I visit you for an hour maybe every Sunday? To take Avon out to 
the barn to be whipped? Seems to me that ain't asking too much." 

It was me they was talking about, so I said my piece. "Jimmy, can't you 
understand? I don't want to be whipped at all. I hate being whipped and I'm 
not going to like you any better because you want to do it." 

"Ma Bristol whips you," he said solemnly. 

"I belong to Ma and what she does with me is our affair. I certainly don't 
belong to you." 

"Well, then how about that other thing ... ? You know what I mean." 

"No." 

We walked him to his car, probably the unhappiest young man either of us had 
ever seen. Jimmy had had his glimpse of paradise, the principle portion of 
which was now speeding into the night, while I was still held in Ma 
Bristol's custody. He said a glum goodnight and drove away. 

That night the handcuffs were taken from my wrists, and a metal collar 
locked upon my neck and from it a chain locked to the wall behind our bed. 
Neither of us spoke a word of it but we both knew it was not to prevent 
escape. 

I was girl flesh, much desired. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN - Punished Escapees 

Nothing happened! 

For Ginevera and the remaining girl of Trinity it was hard to sleep. Things 
were happening within Trinity Castle but they were powerless to discover 
what. Several girls wept bitterly because their chains had withstood the 
inadequate strength of girlish hands, and the ankle remained tethered to the 
floor. But Audrey Wingate, Erin and Ginevera remained dried eyed, but in a 
sense of foreboding over the reckless seven who had not stopped to consider 
the cost of an adventure that was sure to end in failure. Ginevera shivered 
and Erin declared unhappily, "They'll be punished, terribly punished, I know 
they will. If I could get this chain off my ankle I'd run straight to mother 
and see if I couldn't help." 

The night dragged on. 

In the morning it was Radcliff who unlocked their shackles but refused to 
inform them of anything. Breakfast was routine but-Ginevera noted the seven 
vacant places. The servants answered nothing. In the classroom the mystery 
deepened for Miss Prelate was in her usual place, behaving in her usual way. 
If her class was seven girls short, she appeared not to notice. At 
mid-morning Ginevera was summoned to Lady Alyth's office. 

Once again everything was normal. Ginevera took the familiar seat across the 
desk, arranged her handcuffs demurely in her lap, and looked expectantly at 
the woman who she sensed was bubbling over with amusement. 

"I expect you're curious," she finally offered. "And I ought to keep you 
curious if it wasn't that I'm curious myself and want to know what happened 
last night. I'm bound to get Erin's version but I want you're first. Spill 
it out, darling, don't be shy." 

Ginevera told the facts, feeling them inadequate but not knowing what to 
add. Finally, Lady Alyth asked, "Seven girls tore their ankle chains loose? 
What about the rest, did they try?" 

"I'm afraid so." 

"What about you?" 

"They tried to pull mine loose, too, even though I told them to leave it 
alone. Lady Alyth, I'm too involved here at Trinity to want to escape like 
that. Erin and Audrey and I told them they were crazy but they were too 
excited to listen." 

"They must have had a leader. Who was it?" 

"It was a girl who knew for a long time her chain wasn't secure. It was easy 
for her to tug it free. After that it took two or three girls to drag one 
loose. They couldn't get some to budge." 

"The leader had a name?" 

"It was Diana." 

"I might have guessed. Darling, you're such a sweetheart," Lady Alyth glowed 
and came around her desk to kiss an apprehensive girl on the forehead. Then 
on the lips, another kiss which lasted so long it ended in girlish laughter. 

"What's happened to them, Lady Alyth?" asked Ginevera. 

"They're safe in the dungeon, dear, each one with her hands safely cuffed 
behind her back. I'll let them stew a while. I haven't yet made up my mind 
what to do with them." 

"I suppose they'll be whipped?" 

"Darling, whipping a girl isn't any big thing in Trinity. I suppose I could 
have they really flogged but I have to admit I feel sorry for them." 

"You won't punishment them?" 

"I didn't say that. I have to make an example of them, one way or another. 
But they surprised me, getting free the way they did. I'm been thinking all 
along they were more content." 

"Are they?" 

"They're content so long as they know there's nothing they can do about 
their imprisonment. But dangle an opportunity to escape and they lose all 
judgment." 

Ginevera wiggled in embarrassment. "I was like that once. The kindest thing 
you can do with The Class is fasten them so securely they stop worrying 
about false hopes. Before Diana got her chain loose, they were happy." 

"I suppose their glands have something to do with it," Lady Alyth mused. 
"What they need is a good dose of Westley." Facing a fact of life, Ginevera 
grinned her frank admission. "They miss Westley and so do I. I had him quite 
a while and he's habit forming. When he's not around, the girls sort of 
shrug it off as part of being a prisoner. I won't tell you then don't find 
their own relief but we'd all sooner have a man. Sorry!" 

"I think I'll get in touch with the dear boy. But even if he comes back 
there's a bit of a problem there. I can't reward the seven with his instant 
attentions, and I'm not sure if he can appease thirteen sets of feminine 
glands in the way he looks after you're when he's around. I suppose I could 
persuade him to bring a friend ... but there again we've got this habit 
forming problem. Got any ideas?" 

Ginevera wanted to laugh and did so without any inhibition. "I wouldn't 
bother if I were you. We'll all make out. After we've lain under a man, 
we're disgusted with ourselves. If Diana hadn't gotten the idea, we'd have 
been going on the same as usual. Please don't punish her too severely, I'm 
sure she thought she was doing the right thing." 

Lady Alyth laughed over Ginevera's concern. "Those girls were ridiculous," 
she confided in simple amusement "Angela Prelate keeps her door locked at 
night so they couldn't get at her. And then roamed up and down the corridors 
and hallways, looking for a door that wasn't locked or a window they could 
crawl out of. By that time. Trinity was alert and Benson and the two guards 
had no trouble in rounding up those silly girls and putting them were they 
are right now. Would you like to visit?" 

"Not really. I hate that dungeon and they'd all be suspicious." 

"Well, darling, I'm going to put you in there with your hands prettily 
cuffed behind your back the same as all the rest of them. You can tell them 
whatever story you want. But what I need is an accurate reading of their 
state of mind. I really do love my girls and I want to be quite sure I'm 
handling this to the best possible advantage, not just to those seven but to 
the rest as well. Maybe even to you and Audrey. I'm not concerned with Erin, 
she's completely happy." 

"Lady Alyth, I really don't want that dungeon, please don't put me in mere 
with the rest." 

"Don't be silly, darling, it's only for a few hours. But you may gather some 
ideas of an effective punishment. I don't want to be cruel, darling, but I 
have to make some sort of example so the rest will get the message. I'll 
have Radcliff get your handcuffs and pop you in. And, for heaven's sake, 
don't look so sad. I feel bad enough about this whole thing already." 

Radcliff drew the bolts and opened the locks to the great door of the 
dungeon. As the door slammed behind her back, Ginevera stood bewildered 
before every female eye in the place. She had no hands, nor did the girls 
who surrounded her. "How's she going to punish us?" they demanded. "Are you 
a spy?" 

"Does her ladyship wants more on us than she's got already?" 

"Are you being punished, too?" 

Ginevera thought it best to sort it out, telling her fellow prisoners what 
she could and shrugging away what she could not answer. Their demands were 
insistent. 

"We'll all be whipped, won't we?" 

"I'll bet we all get horsed for the longest time." 

"I'll bet she puts chains on us and keeps us in this dungeon for weeks and 
weeks, maybe for months." 

Ginevera hated her task but listened to the complaints while tugging at her 
hands behind her back. She wondered where her own thoughts would now be 
centered. And, despite her knowledge of immunity, found herself sharing the 
maiden anxieties of girls who knew they had transgressed too far. The mental 
images these girls were dreaming up for themselves were too horrible to 
contemplate. 

"She'll hang us up by our thumbs." 

"There's that horrible little cage and I'll bet we'll have to sit in it a 
week." 

"I'll bet even if Westley comes home, she'll cut us off and he won't get to 
take us to bed. Oh, shit, we should have had more sense." 

Diana was no different from the rest. She was now a fearful girl, anxious to 
please and make amends. Everyone of the seven was willing to promise 
anything, especially humiliations and obedience, if she would not be 
punished for her sin. As though in derision, Lady Alyth had instructed that 
their ankle shackled remained untouched, forcing each girl to drag her chain 
and its fastening where ever she walked. In the animation of despair, the 
girls walked back and forth to make a laughable clatter as speculation 
continued. 

"She'll keep us locked in here forever, and whip us everyday." 

"We'll never get out of Trinity, never in our whole lives." 

"I'll bet she'll come out with something really awful like hanging us up by 
our thumbs or upside down by our ankles. There's no way she's going to be 
sympathetic." 

"She'll whip our cunts and breasts. You see if she doesn't." 

"Lady Alyth will be looking for a punishment to fit the crime. What we're 
going to get won't be anything ordinary." 

It was a sad group of young women who looked on enviously as Ginevera was 
taken from the dungeon. Some felt certain she was an informer as, indeed, 
she was. Others speculated on the punishment she might even now be enduring. 
Unhappily, they knew Ginevera was a world apart and what happened to them 
would not happen to her. They would have been vastly entertained had they 
been able to tune in on the conversation in Lady Alyth's office. 

"I never did find out the punishment the hate the most," Ginevera confessed. 
"Oh, Lady Alyth, it's so sad but they're all convinced of a really terrible 
punishment. Things like being horsed for a long, long time. Or being hung up 
by their thumbs. Or being locked in a tiny cage for weeks." Ginevera looked 
dolefully at her mistress. "Please don't leave them there wondering. Please 
tell them about their punishment and get it started." 

"Being flogged, sitting on the horse, hanging by their thumbs. Good gosh, 
Ginevera, they're not very original, are them!" Lady Alyth had digested 
every word and was still seeking a solution. "I'll tell you what, Ginevera," 
she said finally. "It will do the little darlings good to sit in that 
dungeon and think up their own punishments. I suspect they'll dream up 
horrors far worse than I could. I'm fond of those girls and I have no wish 
to hear them scream. I'm not so ancient I can't remember what it is like to 
be a girl. I'll probably just give their bottoms an extra caning and let it 
go with that if it weren't for the need to set an example for the whole 
Class. I can't have this whole thing happening every day. But there is one 
good thing that has come out of this, all the little darlings will now know 
it's not that easy to escape from Trinity Castle. I wish I could have 
watched them wandering around with their chains tied to their tummies and 
realizing with every door and barred window they've got themselves into 
something they couldn't get out of." Lady Alyth sighed. "Ginevera, darling, 
just leave it with me, I'll think of something." 

The Class, although diminished in size, was vocal in demanding of Ginevera 
all she knew. At bed time they sat on their cots, dandling a chained ankle 
and playing with the handcuffs on their wrists. But even though Ginevera 
told them everything she had to tell, they remained apprehensive as to 
whether they, too, were to be punished with the guilty seven. Ginevera 
kindly omitted mention that desire and intent carried with it much the same 
guilt as the act itself. 

Erin was, as always, a fascinated spectator of girls older than herself and 
thus to be envied in their full development of breasts and growth of pubic 
hair. She took a delight in being similarly naked and handcuffed and with 
the shackle on her foot to prevent nocturnal exploration. She knew herself 
protected by her mother. 

There was one girl among the many who most of all attracted Ginevera's 
attention. Audrey Wingate had obviously suffered agonies of shame and 
humiliation in becoming a pupil instead of a mistress. She had tried and 
failed in reconciling herself to being naked, and felt all pairs of eyes 
were upon what she had always been able to keep hidden. The fact that every 
girl was also nude in no way lessened this maiden modesty. Audrey was also 
shockingly conscious at all times in handcuffed wrists, failing to find the 
easy acceptance of shinning steel bracelets which the rest of the class 
regarded as a fact of life. She confided these traumas to Ginevera's 
sympathetic ear, discovering in Lady Alyth's favorite girl a maturity to 
match her own. 

The former mistress spoke ruefully of her determination to be stoic both 
before and during the first of her biweekly whippings at Lady Alyth's hand. 
But by the time the tenth stroke her resolve crumbled. By the end of the 
twenty, she hung in the straps she had vigorously fought just a minute 
before. She was left alone for the usual hour of contemplation. 

Later she confided in her friend, "What bothers me is that I would have run 
with them if I had had the chance. For most of the girls it was the chain on 
their ankle what kept them on their cot. If that chain had been torn loose, 
they'd be in the dungeon with the rest. But with me there's something beyond 
that chain." Her lovely eyes gazed into Ginevera's. "I need the money. You 
know the terms by which I'm here, and I dare not break the contract so long 
as my family still lives and needs that weekly check." Audrey smiled weakly. 
"I don't know what this makes me but it certainly isn't a hero." 

A day passed and then another to leave the Class still wondering and 
Ginevera uninformed. Presumedly the seven nude girls in the dungeon were 
still there, bemoaning their fate. But when the girls adjourned to their 
dorm at the end of class on the third day, they discovered the seven missing 
shackles back beside the empty cots and fastened to the floor very solidly 
indeed. The same applied to every shackle in the dorm, every one of which 
had been reinforced. It sent shivers up and down their spines but also gave 
them reassurances that their missing companions would never be trying escape 
again. The following morning when they went to class, the girls were 
dramatically confronted by the lesson Lady Alyth wished to teach. 

The scene of one of stark horror or exquisite artistry, according to the 
view one took. Like ever other room in Trinity Castle, the classroom had a 
high ceiling from which there now hung, in pitiful suspension, seven naked 
girls. Some one had given thought to the arrangement of the nudes to cause 
them to enhance rather than offend the classroom scene. An artist's eye had 
placed each punished girl to impose her maximum impact to the scene as a 
whole. Each girl was gagged, across each pair of no longer pouting lips, a 
wide band of silver tape proclaimed silence by which the classroom would 
remain undisturbed. Bandages had been generously bound around young wrists 
to join them for the rope by which they now were suspended with their toes 
well above the heads below. The bandages told a story of their own, that 
circulation was being cared for in a long, protracted punishment. 

Anguished eyes sought those of the more fortunate companions who now took 
their desks beneath the stern eyes of Angela Prelate, who appeared to find 
nothing remarkable in a classroom decorated by hanging nude girls. She 
pointed ignored the lovely bodies. Sixteen young women made themselves busy 
at their desk and tried not to look up. 

Trinity Castle was undisturbed. 

That night at bedtime, seven shackles lay waiting beside seven vacant cots 
and the sixteen girls were forced to wonder if the delinquent seven were 
still suspended above empty desks. Each knew how terrible it would be as the 
daylight hours drifted into darkness. 

The next morning the classroom was back to normal without the punished girls 
hanging overhead. The unpunished girls wondered and whispered until Miss 
Prelate called girl after girl before the class to extend her palm for the 
cane. The girls learned to be quiet. 

The girls could only guess the suspended seven were back inside the dungeon. 

The particular wing of Trinity Castle occupied by Lady Alyth's academy for 
kidnapped maidens had it's own great central hall, the roof of which was 
suspended by stone pillars, giving an effect not unlike a church. In was in 
this usually quiet hall that Lady Alyth saw fit to produce the second 
infliction upon the seven naughty girls. The Great Hall boasted only six 
pillars so that each stone column provided lodgment for a single girl, while 
the central and most massive of them all provided a place for two. The girls 
were tightly and cruelly bound, their backs against the stone, their hands 
tied well above their heads, ropes belted their middle to compress captive 
tummies to a great degree. Between this belt and the bound hands above, 
there was not a single bond to mark the lovely breasts of a girl who could 
not move. An unkind stricture descended from this belt to part the pussy 
lips and burry itself deep into soft flesh. The knees were bound, as were 
the slender ankles. Each girl must have been compelled to stand upon a box 
before her binding, and then the box removed, for each girl hung with toes 
barely touching the stone floor. 

Once again the configuration had been contrived by an artistic eye. Lady 
Alyth much preferred it that way. As with the suspension of the previous 
day, the stone columns provided graphic backdrop for maiden anguish. It was 
a punishment the other sixteen girls were forced to view by being slowly 
paraded around their punished classmates in a procession for which the Great 
Hall provided ample space. One could well believe ghosts of the past were 
gazing upon strained breasts and stretched naked bodies. There were no gags. 

It was difficult to concentrate on what Angela Prelate sought to teach. Once 
more palms burned and smarted from the cane, and those girls who had 
transgressed on more than one occasion were ordered to touch their toes to 
accept the rod upon bare flesh. 

To insure that no lesson might be lost, the sixteen girls were paraded every 
hour on the hour up and down the Great Hall. It was worthy of note that 
while anguished lips spoke greetings, there were none who pleaded with Miss 
Prelate for mercy or forgiveness. Each girl was reconciled to the punishment 
she must bear. Not that tears were not shed, young females bodies did suffer 
and occasionally a girl gave vent to the pain inside. Miss Prelate's treat 
in class rang loudly in their ears. "You will behave yourselves and walk in 
an orderly procession," Angela Prelate had instructed in cold precision. 
"Any of you who chooses to misbehave may expect to be whipped between her 
legs before being fastened upon the horse for the rest of the day. That will 
be all." 

It was more then enough. The Class went about its affairs in total 
obedience. Never had there been sixteen more submissive young women. Even 
Erin keep her girlish giggles to herself. Ginevera was compelled to be a 
part of each procession to the Great Hall, and sadly watched the effect of 
this punishment grow worse and worse as time passed. As the day passed on 
the heads of one girl after another bowed in fatigue and anguish, none every 
passing out but all showing the strain of prolonged bondage. 

As with the suspended nudes in the classroom, there was a cruel beauty in 
the scene. Naked girls, like impaled butterflies, bound tight to their 
columns by the cut of cords, suffered against the ancient stone. Moans and 
soft crying attested to the pain within those lovely bodies. 

Viewing the scene as a whole, Ginevera knew how deeply the beauty of it 
would appeal to the owner of Trinity. Ginevera was sure these girls would 
not be let down until the hours of darkness had claimed the Great Hall, and 
that they would spend yet another night in the cold confines of the dungeon. 
And tomorrow ... ? 

Lady Alyth was unpredictable. At bedtime when each girl tendered her ankle 
to be shackled for the night, they were joined by those who had been bound 
against the pillars and never had rope-burned beauties been more thankful 
for release. Most were so exhausted and relieved that they fell instantly 
asleep. It was then that Ginevera noticed a significant omission. There was 
still one empty cot and beside it on the floor the shackle and chain for 
which there was no ankle. 

Diana was missing. 

Lady Alyth beamed across her desk at her favorite pupil. "A sensible sort of 
whipping once every two weeks works perfectly. It keeps my darlings in a 
proper frame of mind and provides me with a bottom or two every day on which 
to imprint the Trinity insignia. In other words, some nice red strips which 
will wear away in time for the girl's next appointment." Lady Alyth sighed. 
"There's only one disappointment about this -the dear girls do become blase 
about this. I don't mean that they yawn during their whipping, they make the 
usual sounds and emotions while it's happening. But after their usual hour 
of mediation they go back to class with the feeling that some one loves them 
enough to mark their skin. Does that make sense, darling?" 

Ginevera knew it did make sense but wondered silently how many other would 
agree. If the Sunday Press every got wind of it the headlines would flare 
across England. She nestled her handcuffs and listened. 

"The only bad thing about this lovely arrangement is that if you chose the 
whip for a girl's punishment, the application has to be severe to separate 
from what the girl receives every two weeks." Lady Alyth looked earnestly at 
her favorite slave. "That's the problem I'm up against with Diana. A really 
good whipping up before the entire Class would fill the bill nicely but 
would mean being damned unkind to a girl I don't dislike. Got any ideas?" 

"She's been punished enough already. And I'll bet she's unhappy down in the 
dungeon. It's awful being in there all alone. And I'll bet because you've 
got her all alone, you'll have her heavily chained." Ginevera shivered. 
"Isn't that enough?" 

"You know it's not enough, dear. What can I do to impress Diana that escape 
is not a good idea." 

"She's been enduring punishment several days and she's going to get morbid 
if you keep it up," Ginevera said thoughtfully. "That dungeon is deadly. I 
should know.... Consider doing something with Diana out in the park. There's 
a high wall all around so she can't get out. If you turn her loose out 
there, all alone, and dependent upon her own resources, she's soon going to 
think longingly of the Class and her waiting cot. It would make me sorry for 
anything I'd done." 

"I like it! It also gives me an idea. I've noticed that Audrey Wingate is 
moping. She's finding it hard to take being submissive. So why don't we turn 
the two of them loose out there together. And another idea immediately 
suggests itself. I'll have a collar locked around each of their necks and a 
connecting chain, say about four feet long. That won't bother them all that 
much unless they wish to go in opposite directions. A few days of that and 
we can consider honor satisfied. I can be rid of the whole affair and I'll 
make sure no damned anchor bolt will comes loose again." 

During the ensuing days Ginevera discovered boredom and was ashamed to admit 
to herself she wanted Westley. But Westley didn't seem to want her, although 
she tried to attribute his lack of interest to Lady Alyth's insistence upon 
a fruitful marriage. Ginevera knew herself spoiled by the make-believe 
honeymoon in New York City. Westley's prowess in bed made him addictive. She 
thought often of their time together and condemned herself bitterly for 
turning a cold shoulder on something good. Even when he whipped her, Westley 
did it with class. 

Lady Alyth was not deceived. She was deeply sensitive to the reactions of 
each young prisoner she owned. She often spoke of them as her children and, 
even though there was not enough years between them, saw Ginevera as her 
daughter. In the spirit of this understanding, she summoned Ginevera often 
to her office for afternoon tea and to share laughter over some diverting 
aspect of Trinity's life. 

"You're bored, sweetheart," she said on this occasion. "Don't tell me you're 
not. I suppose you're missing Westley's rod?" 

"How did you guess!" 

"I know my girls, darling. I've been a real bitch about Westley, thrusting 
him upon you then allowing him to disappear." She laughed. "The rest of the 
class would like another around of his attentions, too. What is it men need 
to eat to aid virility? Eggs? Oysters? Do you want me to get him on the 
phone?" 

"Goodness, no! If he can't come of his own accord, I don't want you to pull 
rank." 

"I simply can't allow you to become bored, dear. Would you like me to whip 
you? It makes a pleasant diversion." 

"I don't want that either." Ginevera knew she was being laughed at. 

"And I don't want any of the other nice little diversions Trinity has to 
offer. I know I don't have anything to say about it, but please don't." 

"If you were one of the other girls, I'd refuse to listen. I'd take you 
downstairs and whip your pretty little bottom until you said you were sorry 
for being such an idiot. It's the best medicine I know. Please tell me you 
agree." 

"You make me feel grateful and humble and ashamed for at least twenty-four 
hours. After that I would probably be back to square one. But, if it would 
please you to whip me, Lady Alyth, I won't complain." 

The mistress glowed in pride and pleasure. "You're a girl in a million, 
darling," she whispered lovingly. "I'm constantly repressing my carnal wish 
to whip you to bits. You're the most delicious female I know." Her ladyship 
twinkled mischievously. "Darling, would you like me to turn you loose?" 

It took a moment to properly impact. As though Ginevera found herself 
confronted by a cosmic event too huge to contemplate. She slowly repeated 
Lady Alyth's own words, 'Turn me loose ... ?" 

"That's right, dear, turn you loose, give you your freedom, return you to 
liberty.... Would you like that?" 

"No!" 

Lady Alyth said nothing and Ginevera realized the negative had escaped her 
lips. The handcuffs suddenly felt warm and protective on her wrists. "What 
would I do with freedom? Where would I go ... ? Oh, Lady Alyth, you're 
teasing." 

"I'm offering you freedom, take it! No handcuffs, no shackle on your ankles, 
no whip. Darling, just think at what you could do. I'd outfit you properly 
and give you a monthly salary. There must have been some sort of life you 
enjoyed before I made you one of my girls? Or why don't you go and visit Ma 
Bristol and Avon? The Bristol woman intrigues me, she's worth a study. I'm 
sure she'll let you share Avon's captivity. And, of course, you could always 
track down dear Westley ... T 

"My family and friends must have written me off as dead a long time ago. As 
as far as Ma Bristol goes, I think I've had my fill of chained ankles and 
that old black iron stew pots, and those neighbors lusting for my flesh." 
She was still trying to sort out the enormity of the gift Lady Alyth was now 
offering. "As for Westley, I don't know ... I wish he'd come and pick me up 
and carry me away. Or maybe take me downstairs and whip me as a prelude to 
the way he rapes a girl." 

The mistress laughed at her bewildered slave, circling the desk to kiss the 
willing lips and hug the lovely nakedness she knew she owned beyond any 
ordinary possession. She wondered how her other prisoners might have met 
this challenge. It might be an amusing experiment to try some other time. 
But for now, Ginevera was occupying her full attention. Resuming her seat, 
she waited patiently until, lifting an amused eyebrow, she inquired, "Well?" 

Minevera's answer was decisive and might have been foretold by anyone aware 
of the union between the mistress and her slave. "take me downstairs-you've 
been right about that all the time. It's what I need. Whip me hard." 

They rarely spoke on these occasions, it was as though the two women were 
governed by a single mind. The lovely bracelets departed and the limp wrists 
were encircled with familiar straps to compel the naked girl into the most 
terrible exposure a female can ever know. The first cut of the leather thong 
confirmed Ginevera's plea. Lady Alyth was going to whip her very hard 
indeed. Ginevera moaned but neither in ecstasy or pain but in a language 
only she and Lady Alyth understood. 

It was in the sweat-drenched and scolded aftermath in which the whipped girl 
stood alone for the hour, still panting, still twisting at strapped wrists, 
while searching for decisions when decision itself was torn from her grasp 
by another of those unexpected visitation by which her life was changed. 
Startled by an intrusive sound, Ginevera raised her bound head to find 
herself confronted by the amused regard of a man she had supposed far away. 

"Westley! Oh, Westley!" Her voice betrayed her joy. "I didn't know .... We 
hadn't expected.... Ohhhhh.... Westley, darling!" 

It was immensely satisfying to be hugged and kissed and to feel firm male 
fingers explore her freshly punished back. Words were spoken which were no 
more than the mating sounds of a male and female too long apart. 

"Westley, I can't hug you the way I'm fixed. Please unstrap my wrists." 

"I like them as they are, sweetheart. They'll stay a while and so will you 
while I take an inventory. Gosh, that sweat of yours smells yummy." 

In a way it was good not to have hands which might interfere. She was swept 
by gorgeous sensations of possession as Westley's knowing hands cuffed 
scented breasts and kneaded them and her sex. She spread her legs as wide as 
she could to allow access to his palm. For the man and girl thus engaged 
time stood still and it was not until Westley was satisfied with this 
prelude to better things to come that he stood back to fondly regard the 
helpless nudity he knew was his for the taking. 

"Didn't I find you in this same state when I dropped in once before?' he 
inquired cheerfully. "What did you do this time to get yourself in another 
fix like this?" 

"I'm not sure I know but your aunt thought it a good idea so here I am. 
Westley, please be a darling and get me loose." 

"Seems to me that other time I gave you a second whipping on top of your 
first. The effect was beneficial, as I recall." 

"Don't you dare! I don't want to be whipped again, I've had enough." 

"Perhaps just once over lightly?" 

"No! Oh, Westley, it's so good to have you back. Please stop teasing and 
give me my hands back." 

"Don't be impatient, I really do want to whip you. It makes me so 
wonderfully horny. And since you'll be the beneficiary, I thought you'd be 
grateful?" 

"Well ... yes. But you're horny enough right now. Don't think I can't tell. 
And you've got me so excited I can hardly wait. There's no need to whip me 
again. And Lady Alyth whipped me so hard, I've had all I want, thank you." 

Westley shrugged and did a slow circle tour of his helpless love, examining 
Ginevera's wealed back and caned bottom with an expert eye. "Auntie 
certainly did a good job on you," he agreed. "Maybe for the time being we'll 
let the matter rest. By the way, I hope Auntie's kept you on the pill." 

"Yes, she has. I expect she thought you might show up unexpectedly. Are you 
going to do it to me standing up?" 

"Much as I hate to do this, I suppose...." Swiftly he freed the captive 
wrists and laid their owner on the floor. "We can use the bedroom another 
time," he said in a preoccupied manner as he removed his clothes. "Get ready 
for the rape of a lifetime. Spread those legs." 

The nice thing about Westley Wallace was that nothing mattered. Bathed in 
the sunshine of content, Ginevera simply relaxed and let Westley run the 
show. If Westley really did want to whip her again, she decided not to 
complain. 

Lady Alyth was delighted, instantly aware of Ginevera's glow and laughing at 
the handcuffs against locked upon her wrists. "You've really got this girl 
in a dither," she reproved. "She's been pinning for you, or at least that 
thing you keep inside your pants. Westley, why on earth do you keep 
disappearing the way you do?" 

"The male ego, dear lady." Westley refused to be serious about anything. 
"The poor old male ego needs constant nourishment, and if I let you support 
me constantly it starts to starve. So I go out and do battle with the 
infidel and make some money. There's nothing like some good old cash for 
polishing a chap's ego." 

He paused with one eyebrow raised. "Do you still want Ginevera and I to tie 
the knot?" 

"Of course. Where would you suggest for our honeymoon?" 

"Well, not New York City. Have you told the poor girl of that terrible gift 
you brought for her enjoyment?" 

"Sorry, quite forgot. It will wait until after dinner." 

"I'm sure it will." Lady Alyth brushed the gift aside to return to her 
favorite subject. "It would be a good idea for you to tell us how you view 
marriage, Westley, dear boy. Where do you intend to keep your darling bride, 
an Italian villa? A wing in Trinity? I do hope you're not contemplating a 
cage or keeping her tied to a tree." 

"Well, I did have something like that in mind." Westley stared in his aunt. 
"What else would a man do with a wife when he's away on business?" 

"You could try staying at home with the dear girl and amusing yourself with 
her." 

"It's a nice idea but don't you realize that takes us back to square one. 
Amusing myself with beloved Ginevera means popping her in and out of a cage, 
tying her to a tree or anything else that's handy, and whipping her bottom. 
Isn't that the normal way of married life?" 

"You know it isn't Westley, be serious. I'm surprised Ginevera even likes 
you." She turned a stern eye upon a blushing young woman. 'Tell this idiot 
you want a lovely modem kitchen with a baby in a crib upstairs and the 
washing machine busy with a load of diapers. Don't say that isn't want you 
want" 

Ginevera raised her handcuffs and made them clink. "This is what Westley 
wants for me," she said demurely. "And that's what I want, too." 

"You're both crazy. But if that's the way of it I'd best call in a builder 
and have him make over some of Trinity's unused space. Would you like a 
dungeon of your own for Ginevera?" 

"I think yours would do nicely," said Ginevera. 

"We'll have our own private dungeon," said Westley firmly. 

"And a little cell and a punishment room...?" 

"Of course, what else! The dear girl may not get in them too often but it 
will keep her in the right frame of mind to know they're there." 

"And you call that a normal married life?" 

"Absolutely. It's the rest of the world that's out of line." 

"I was asking Ginevera." 

"Sure it sounds crazy," Ginevera confessed, "but what Westley is talking 
about is only making real something most couples want but tuck away in the 
back of their minds because they either don't have enough money or are 
scared the people next door would call the police. We're terribly, terribly 
lucky." 

"You call the being handcuffed the way you are normal?" 

"If Westley wants me handcuffed, yes." Ginevera laughed. "If we lived in 
suburbia and he wanted a special color for my panties then no one would 
mind. What's the difference?" 

Lady, Alyth was well content, congratulating herself on having built better 
than she knew. Ginevera was close to perfection and made an admirable foil 
for Westley's erotisms. She kept to herself the image of a young wife 
changing a baby's diapers while her wrists were firmly handcuffed. Of 
course, Westley would probably employ a youthful nanny to perform such 
tasks, but would probably lock handcuffs on her as well. The whole affair 
promised to be diverting ... if it every happened. 

"Will you show her my present or shall I?" Westley asked offhandedly. 

"Why not let Ginevera find it for herself. If she wanders around long enough 
down there she'll find it." 

Ginevera looked from one to the other of the smiling faces and was easily 
aware of something untoward. Quite probably a new kind of cage for Westley 
to lock her in or some restrictive device. But since it was something she 
could discover for herself, she shrugged and made her way to the grim stone 
stairs. 

Westley's gift was not difficult to find. It had been placed in the smallest 
of cells, a youthful, girlish shape in blue jeans, seated on the hard bench 
of bitter memory, its head buried in its hands in quite mediation. She 
looked up in surprise as Ginevera came into the room. Instantly she stood 
and came to the bars through which Ginevera was staring at a girl she had 
never expected to see again. 

It was Prune. 

The voice of New York was more friendly that its words. "Hi, ya, cunt! They 
said you'd be coming. Can you get me out of this cage?" Prune paused then 
added, "Bet you never expected to see me again?" 

"That's right, I didn't. How on earth did you get inside that cell?" 

"It's a long story." 

"I'd best hear it anyway. But welcome to Trinity. Here, let's shake hands." 

"Holly cow, you're handcuffed!" Prune was in shock. "Any you ain't got no 
clothes on, neither." 

"It's the custom here, think nothing of it." 

Hands reaching through the bars found a feminine communion. Prune's grip 
said she was a frightened girl in need of help. But, as always, her tone 
held a defensive hostility. "Get me out of here before I tell you about how 
I got here in the first place. Ain't ya got no key?" 

Ginevera laughed and, lifting joined hands above her head, did a slow 
circle. "Of course I don't have a key! Where on earth would I keep it? I 
can't even get these handcuffs off my wrists." 

Prune snickered. "I can think of a place. But, if you ain't gonna let me 
loose, I suppose I can tell it through these here bars. This ain't the first 
time I been in a cage. You sure you interested?" 

"Of course I am. Hurry up and tell me." 

Prune snorted. "Well, once they let me free from that funny farm, I didn't 
have no place to go 'cept those two guys and the Rooster bunch where I come 
from. A gal like me don't ever have no friends so that's where I went. And 
the first thing those Rooster guys did was strip me bare and hang me up by 
my wrists and beat me half to bits with a coat hanger. About the time I knew 
they was gonna kill me they let me down and spread me out on that damned 
bed. And tied my hands out so they could easy take what I'd given them 
anyway. Those bastards don't value a piece of tail and as they wants a gal 
fixed so she has to take it. They're a bunch of real assholes." Prune 
swallowed hard and demanded, "How long I gotta stay behind these here bars?" 

"I don't know, really I don't. I've been locked in there a lot myself so I 
know what it's like. But please tell me the rest." 

"Well them Roosters give me a real bad time. And they put the cost of my 
cunt down to where the boys upstairs could afford to visit. So I got them, 
too. There was one of them I'd been sort of friendly with and one day, when 
the rest of them were all away someplace, he let me loose and give me some 
money. Let me tell you it felt damned good to walk around again. I got some 
clothes and hightailed it out of there as quick as I knew how. The Roosters 
had sold my car but since it was stolen in the first place didn't much 
matter. I got on a downtown bus and by the end of the ride I was the 
loneliest and most scared little trick in the city. And there ain't but one 
thing a gal in that spot has to do. I hadn't never seriously peddled my ass 
but I had to do it. So there I was standing on the street corner when along 
comes this guy and I weren't never so pleased to see anyone in my life." 

"What guy?" 

"The one you call Westley, the one who came to get you on the farm. 

Directly I caught sight of him right away I knew just what I had to do. I 
stopped him and when he recognizes me, we goes to a coffee shop where he 
buys me breakfast and treats me like I amounted to something." Prune sighed. 
"He was so damned polite and so kind and he even smelt good so I blurted it 
out over the first cup of coffee and asked it he'd bring me to that castle 
place I'd heard about and let me join the rest of the girls and get myself 
educated." 

"But the girls are prisoners ... like me. None of us can come and go like a 
student in a school." 

"Shit, I knowed that! But it didn't bother me none 'cause if them girls is 
the same kind of folks as that Westley what bought me coffee, that's were I 
wanted to be." Prune suddenly became a small child. "You see, I ain't never 
had nothing. If it wasn't for what I got between my legs I'd have starved. 
And this Westley fellow, the way he talked and spoke of money as if it 
didn't matter, was from a world I ain't never been but where I knew I wanted 
to go more than anything else in the world. He listened to everything I 
poured out. In the end he brung me back here when he come. These here bars 
make me wonder if I done the right thing." 

Ginevera eyed the prisoner behind the bars in a new light. As she told her 
story Prune had become more human and faintly likable. Prune seemed out of 
place in Trinity but The Class and Angela Prelate might easily change her. 

"Well, if that's what you really want, I expect Lady Alyth will allow you to 
stay," Ginevera told her doubtfully. "Maybe for you being a prisoner won't 
matter...." 

"Of course it won't matter, darlings." Lady Alyth had come up behind me as 
we had talked. She smiled at my obvious confusion. "We put this girl in the 
cell while we got you straightened out upstairs. She's got a tremendous 
potential for improvement" 

"Never mind all that shit! You gonna get me out of here?" Prune inquired. 
"This place gives me the shivers. Like that time they sent me up for six 
months just because I picked up a few things in a department store. I ain't 
liked iron bars since." 

"And yet you want to be a prisoner?" 

"Sure I do, but didn't figure on no cell." Prune's tone became pathetic. "It 
gets awful lonely in a cell." 

"The first step towards getting out of there, dear, is to take off all your 
clothes and shoes and hand them to me through the bars." 

From Prune's manner it was obvious she had expected the demand. Solemnly she 
kicked off her shoes and began stripping down. Being naked before others had 
been a fact of life for her for a long time. "I betya I know what comes 
next," she said as the parted with the clothes. "That's right, dear, let me 
have your hands." 

Ginevera watched entranced, sensing an unusual intensity of feeling in the 
girl who now thrust both hands between two bars to watch them joined by the 
handcuffs Lady Alyth had thoughtfully brought with here. 

"It ain't the first time I been handcuffed," Prune admitted. "But it ain't 
never been like this. I figure you folks here must get a charge out of 
seeing these things on a gal's wrists. What happens now?" 

"You get whipped, dear." 

"What!" Prune was obviously upset. "That the sort of thing them Roosters do 
to a gal." She paused in embarrassment. "Although I gotta admit that nice 
Westley fellow could say something about it. Do you really gotta?" 

"I'm afraid so, dear. Every girl at Trinity gets whipped once every two 
weeks. It's the rule." 

"Looks like Ginevera got hers today. Them marks on her skin is real fresh. 
Look, ain't there something else you can do to me? I ain't all that fussy 
about being whipped...." 

"Rules are rules, Prune. I can't make an exception on your account. It would 
be nice for you to get if over with right away, don't you think?" 

Prune had been playing with her handcuffs as if in disbelief. Perhaps she 
was considering the price of being a prisoner of a better class of people. 
"Don't I have nothin' to say about this whippin' business?" she asked 
meekly. 

"Nothing. But if you wish, we'll let you put your clothes back on and return 
you to New York. But, remember, you won't get that chance again." 

"Oh, hell, like a stuck pig I will. No way I can take a whippin' and not 
make no fuse." 

"We can gag you, dear, if that's what you wish." 

"You sure talk pretty for a woman who's about to mark up my ass.... All 
these 'dears.' " 

"Simply a civilized approach, Prune. You'll lean to speak properly while 
you're here. Isn't that one of the reasons you're here?" 

"I suppose so." 

"I should warn you, Prune, that the teacher who governs the class you'll be 
a member of is strict and severely punishes vulgarity. Do you still wish to 
attend?" 

"Hell, yes. But if she's real mean you'd better fix me so I can't run. 

And so I can't punch out her lights." Lady Alyth smiled in agreement and 
Prune shook her head. "This has to be the nuttiest thing I ever tired. Led 
me to where I get my ass whipped and let's get it over with." 

"I just know you're going to love it here," said Lady Alyth most cheerfully. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT - Avon 

I was ridiculously content to be Ma Bristol's captive girl. Each twenty-four 
hours was one more day off my sentence, which was getting nicely whittled 
down without the expected pains of punishment. Ma kept control of me by the 
chain between my ankles but that was all. Except for the nightly precaution 
I secretly considered unnecessary. But the collar and chain upon my neck 
didn't bother me all that much so I wore it in the spirit Ma intended it. 
Sometimes I wondered how Lady Alyth would repossess me when the time was up. 
But that was a bridge I would have to wait to cross. For a girl who was a 
prisoner it was pleasant time. 

I should have evaluated the compulsions of lust as did my owner. I was well 
aware that out and around there was two separate entities, each desiring my 
body in their own way. And who would make me ten times as much a prisoner as 
Ma Bristol's gentle restraints. I was pulling weeds in the vegetable garden 
when it happened. Pulling weeds is an absorbing task and I didn't hear Jimmy 
Gates approach until it was too late to run. I straightened up in helpless 
dismay and could only hope his visit was purely social. I knew this was 
unlikely but a girl with chained feet has to cling to whatever hope there 
is. Trying to suitably compose my features, I said a polite, "Hello, Jimmy, 
were you looking for Ma?" 

He didn't answer at first because he was too busy making his usual inventory 
of my body parts, all of which seemed to fascinate him. When he spoke he 
didn't bother to drag his eyes away from my nakedness. "I seen Ma out in the 
fields. That's why I figured it a good time to pick you up. Will you walk 
with me to my car or would you sooner be carried?" 

In pure panic I turned to run but Ma's chain tripped me up at the first step 
to send me sprawling among the carrots. Then Jimmy was on top of me, pinning 
me down, gathering my arms behind my back and tying them brutally together 
without concern. Next he tied my elbows and with his last knot I knew I'd 
had the course. There is a moment when a girl realizes a man is twice as 
strong as she and can do as he pleases despite her struggles. It never 
occurred to me to scream, there was no one to hear. I was picked up and 
carried like a child. 

"You rotten son of a bitch, Ma will kill you for this!" I could not hold in 
my feelings on this fresh kidnapping. "Look, let me go now and Ma doesn't 
have to know. There's still time. You can easy untie me and let me go on 
with my weeding. You rotten young bastard, don't you realize you can go to 
jail for this?" 

It did no good. Jimmy had things cleverly figured out and me conveniently 
under control. There were tears of fright and frustration in my eyes as he 
dumped me in the trunk and slammed the lid. It was dark and hot and smelly 
in the trunk and my arms hurt. By the time we got to where we were going I 
was a suitably submissive young woman. 

"Don't see why you're making all this fuss," Jimmy said. "You ought to know 
by now I ain't gonna do nothin' bad apart from some good screwing. And a 
little whipping of your ass. You're the first girl I've ever had and I don't 
see why you have to spoil my fun by being so snooty and pretending you don't 
like it. I know you like it so don't try and kid me." 

"Let me go! Oh, please let me go!" 

"See what I mean? You ain't fooling me." He dumped me on a pile of straw to 
look at me earnestly. "If you'd just let yourself go, natural like, and try 
and like me, we could have such marvelous times. I'd have to keep you tied 
up some because I can't trust you but that don't mean we can't have a ball." 

"Jimmy, you're heading for trouble. Ma will kill you and Hattie Simpson 
won't be far behind. Please don't let Hattie get hold of me, she's so mean." 

"Well, then, if I keep you safe from Hattie, why can't you be nice to me?" 

So long as we were talking I wasn't hurting. And I was beginning to wonder 
if I couldn't get the best of Jimmy Gates by sweet talk and loving hands. 
But I didn't have my hands and, even if the sweet talk worked, I still 
wouldn't be able to run away because of Ma Bristol's chain upon my ankles. I 
was so frustrated that I wanted to scream but instead tried the most 
important thing to me right then. "Jimmy, please untie my elbows. They're 
hurting like crazy and there's no need to have them tied tight together when 
my wrists are bound anyway. Please?" 

Jimmy had hardly listened. His eyes were still busy with my frontal 
offerings. "Beef, beef, beef, that's all you do," he complained. "You look 
real pretty the way I got you tied right now so you can stay that way. And 
shut up about it hurting, it's suppose to hurt." 

Having her elbows tied tight behind her back is awful for any girl and Jimmy 
had really gone overboard in tugging his cords deep into my skin. I tried 
another approach. "Well, okay, you've got me. I can't get loose and I can't 
run away so I might as well make the best of the situation. Get me untied 
and we'll have the roll in the hay you want so bad. This pile of straw 
you've dumped me on should do us fine." 

"You mean you'll...." Jimmy was suspicious. 

"Yes, really. You're young and you're vigorous, and when you get inside me I 
really know you're there." 

'Huh? That ain't the way I want it. I want you laying on your bound arms 
'cause that raises up your ass up off the floor which makes it real good. 
That's the way you're gonna get it." 

"Okay, we'll do it that way. But how about playing it the way I want the 
second time? I'll make it real nice for you, Jimmy, I promise." 

Jimmy was suspicious but his erection wanted me at any price. He proceeded 
to do a most competent job on me with my arms deep in the straw and my 
bottom at the height he desired. I felt as whore in the way I acted and the 
things I said, but they were the oldest weapons a woman has. When Jimmy got 
ready for his second time around, it felt so good to have the cords peeled 
from my skin and get my hands back that I was sincere in my thanks. They 
were thanks which my hands made physical for this boy who was my master. I 
think Jimmy understood Ma's chain would keep me as safe for him as it had 
for her and he slowly relaxed as he spent himself within my sheath again and 
again. Finally he talked with me asking just enough questions to prove my 
friendly interest in the man by whom I was being raped. Ma's chain hadn't 
bothered me before but I hated it now and wondered what I would have to do 
to get it off. Of if getting it off was possible. 

Jimmy could never leave well enough alone. All the years of his young life 
had been saved for this day and my body. Having satisfied lust, his mind now 
turned to an original theme. 

"I'm better tie you up mow, Avon," he said as if speaking of a blanket on a 
cold night. "Gosh, I'm glad we got this old barn, there's so damned many 
ways I can tie you in here I don't know where to start." 

"Jimmy! You don't have to tie me. Tying me up is just a notion in your mind. 
I don't want to be tied up like a turkey." 

"You ain't got nothing to say about it." He voice sounded as if he were 
simply stating a fact of life. "If I could marry you and take you away 
someplace, I'd keep you tied up all day long. If only you'd think sort of 
kindly like, you'd see how good this could be for both of us. Right now I'm 
thinking about one of the posts that holds up the hay loft." 

I moaned. Talking Jimmy Gates out of the idea of tying me up would always be 
an uphill climb. Every moment in which I enjoy my hands free was profit. So 
I tried a diversion. "Isn't someone going to come and find us here? And 
won't they raise an awful stink about what you're doing with me?" 

"Nah! It ain't likely. You seen how I drove the car inside her so it ain't 
gonna show. And you saw how it's way off the road and behind a hill. And, 
anyway, it's owned by my Uncle Faucet, and he's a funny old buffer who sort 
of likes me. Don't get no ideas about being rescued, honey, you ain't got a 
hope." 

Jimmy Gates was wrong, I had a hope in Ma Bristol. But before she discovered 
where I was there was always the hazard of Hattie Simpson and the continued 
attentions of this boy who was so totally enthmlled by everything I was. 
With admirable persistence he made a suggestion I knew to be an order. "Why 
don't you back up against that there post, Avon, and we'll see how good a 
job I can do on you." He laughed. "I'll bet you I can get it so you can't 
even twitch. Get on over there." 

I could claw his face before he could grab my hands but I couldn't kick him 
where it counted. Against his strength I couldn't do much of anything so I 
simply shrugged and did as I was told. A girl who's feet are chained is 
always doing something she's told. That bit of chain and those two padlocks 
robbed me of power, replacing it with frustration as I took tethered towards 
being what Jimmy Gates referred to as "tied up." Thrusting my bare back 
against the post I tried to soften my captor's obsession with my most 
winning smile. 

All of us are suppose to possess some sort of natural gift. Jimmy's must 
have been artistry with rope. He took care with fastening me so I couldn't 
move with all the seriousness of a master craftsman. First he fastened my 
wrists behind the post and tied them there with very tight knots. Next I got 
my waist belted with several strands until I yelped in protest, a sound I 
don't even thing Jimmy heard as he framed my breasts with ropes from above 
my shoulders, crisscrossing in the hollow between then going back behind to 
be tightened and tugged with all the strength he had. I secretly hoped he 
would be satisfied with this arrangement because I was pretty sure I could 
gain slack from it immediately he was gone. But Jimmy was too wise for that 
and tied his ropes where needed with thin twine to insure none of the 
bindings had the faintest chance to slip. When he had finished this bit of 
artistry, I could tell my breasts, even though themselves untouched by rope, 
were sticking out a mile. Jimmy had left a convenient cord dangling down in 
front from my cinched tummy. Almost reverently he now pulled this between my 
legs, making sure to insert between my pussy lips. When he had it in place 
to his satisfaction, he disappeared behind to heave and tug until I 
exclaimed, "Jimmy, don't! Jimmy, stop! Tying up a girl doesn't mean you have 
to hurt her." 

Once again he seemed not to hear. The rope was knotted to clamp my bottom 
against the post and inflict a steady burn within my female private place. 
He then continued down with ropes between my knees but left my feet alone, 
thoughtfully explaining he didn't want to impair the artist quality of Ma 
Bristol's chain. He then backed away to admire his masterpiece, and from 
that moment I couldn't be sure it was his rope or me he was getting such a 
charge out of. 

I can't move an inch, I told him disgustedly. I hope you're satisfied. 

Undoubtedly he was. Not hearing a word I'd said but continuing his 
fascination with his own creation. I wondered just how beautiful I looked, 
if what he saw was really that fantastic a creation to inspire the awe in 
his face. Certainly my breasts were ticking straight out and the nipples 
erect. But while we were both wondering about my bondage there came an 
ancient Ozark voice. 

"Figured it was you, Jimmy boy. What's ya got there?" 

"It's a gal. Uncle Faucet." 

Uncle Faucet had not bothered his razor much for the past few days. He wore 
an old straw hat and denim overalls, and effected a gangling gait which I 
suspected hid strength. He stood beside his nephew to enjoy the view. 

"You're damned right, she's perty," he affirmed. "You brung her here to 
fuck?" 

"That was sorta the idea, Uncle Faucet," Jimmy conceded, quite obviously 
wishing his relative hadn't interrupted. 

"Allus figured on something like this myself, boy. Just never got around to 
it. Where in the hell did you get her?" 

"He kidnapped me and he's holding me against my will," I cried. "Please let 
me loose and take me home before the police get involved and Jimmy finds 
himself in trouble." 

"You hear what she just said, Jimmy boy?" Uncle Faucet sounded as if he 
didn't believe his ears. "I'll bet ya this is that gal what Ma Bristol's 
been keeping up at her place. I heared about it but didn't pay no mind. 

Son, Ma Bristol's gonna have your hide." 

"But if she don't never find where I'm keeping her?" 

"That's just a matter of time, Jimmy, but I recon you got a few days. Tell 
you what, Jimmy boy, why don't you take yourself a walk. Go up to the house 
and sit yourself a spell. Get out of here and go for a ride. I want to be 
alone with this pretty little piece. Jus' you leave us alone for an hour or 
two, I ain't greedy." 

"But, Uncle, she's mine, it were me what brung her." 

"I ain't denying that, son. Just give mew a few hours with her and after 
that she's all yours and I won't be telling a soul where you got her hid." 

I watched Jimmy's face darken as he realized the power of this ridiculous 
old farmer to shatter his idyll with me inside this barn. But there was not 
doubting that Uncle Faucet held all the cards. After a few verbal struggles 
in which he was easily defeated, Jimmy Gates walked out into the sunlight 
and away from the greatest treasure he had ever owned, or might ever hope to 
see. I felt sorry for him and even more sorry for myself. 

"He's a good kid but he don't know nothing," Uncle Faucet addressed me. 
"Glad I dropped by all right. My, my, you sure is a lovely piece of fluff." 

"Aren't you going to untie me?" I demanded. "You know, before the police 
come. Kidnapping can put you in prison for years and years." 

"You can can that talk, gal. There ain't no sheriff nor no deputy I can't 
make a deal with. Hell, if I offer them a bang at you, they'd jump for it. 
Mind if I feel around a bit?" 

I stood there against the post, the ropes biting at me like living things 
while providing Uncle Faucet with a full frontal exposure of all the female 
things men most dearly love. Fortunately I couldn't move or I would have 
gotten myself in trouble. As it was I had to helplessly endure his probing 
fingers, sometimes very carnal as he cupped my sex and breasts in hard and 
horny palms, and generally had himself the best of times. 

"What I gotta do now is get you fixed so we can have a piece of tail," he 
confided. "Sort of hate to spoil Jimmy's work 'cause he sure got you tied 
real pretty. But I ain't much at trying to do it standing up." Surveying 
possibilities, he exclaimed, "Shit! Can you get them feet far enough apart? 
With that there chain on your ankles?" 

"No, I can't." 

Uncle Faucet's tone became sly. "I'll just bet you can't, honey. But I'm 
getting it sort of figured out. What we do is lay you on your back and tuck 
that chain up there under your ass. There's enough chain for that. And then 
we spread your knees. Want I should get you untied?" 

"No." It was a useless negative because Uncle Faucet immediately went to 
work and which ever of the knots defied his fingers got cut swiftly with the 
knife. Soon I was standing there, rubbing chaffed skin and looking 
feverishly around for a club I could hit this old goat over the head with. 
But there wasn't any, Jimmy had made quite sure of that. So I was now led 
lovingly by the arm to the pile of straw where Uncle Faucet invited, "Get 
yourself down there, honey, tuck that chain under your ass and spread them 
knees spread wide." 

I hated him bitterly. I hated myself for possessing no magic by which to 
break the chain and run. In total defeat I sank once more into the straw and 
arranged myself to Uncle Faucet's specifications. My whole being cringed in 
shame at what was about to happen. And when he unzipped his fly to produce a 
truly impressive erection, I exclaimed in revolution, "Do you intend to do 
it to me with your pants on?" 

"Well, honey, you got a point there." Uncle Faucet studied what appeared to 
be a fresh concept in his life. He then slipped out of his overalls to 
reveal a soiled and tattered shirt which he also tossed aside. When he 
performed the act of what he described as "climbing aboard" I closed my eyes 
and longed to die. 

In an evaluation of performance, I suppose Uncle Faucet was better than his 
nephew. He lasted longer, plowing away at me in a hearty determination to 
honor the name of Faucet. His breath was foul. 

I provided Uncle Faucet with what was probably the time of his life. When I 
had been what he described as "well Rogered", he debated with me the idea of 
tying me up once more so Jimmy would have no complaint and could wonder as 
he pleased about what had happened in his absence. 

"Seems like one hell of a lot of trouble that there boy went to tie you to 
that post," the Ozark ravisher said. "How'd it be I throw a rope over that 
beam and hoist you up by your hands?" 

"I don't care how you tie me but I don't see why you have to tie me at all." 
I tried to talk him out of it but with little hope. "You can see how my feet 
are chained, I can't run away. You've got me and I know it. Don't tie me 
up." 

"I'll bet you tell that to all the boys," Uncle Faucet cackled. "But you'd 
best be tied, kid. Wouldn't want young Jimmy to say I let him down. And, 
since I'll be wanting to visit you tomorrow, we'd best keep him happy." He 
eyes searched me up and down for inspiration. "Tell you what, honeybunch," 
he said delightedly, "since you're all-fired agin' being tied up proper like 
I gonna fix you with just one hand you ain't gonna get loose from. Here, 
give me one, which ever you ain't aiming to use." 

I hated the submission in which I offered my left hand and watched him knot 
a couple of strands around the wrist. He took a lot of care, making it far 
too tight, and being certain he tied the final knot below the back of my 
hand where my fingers could never reach. He then tossed the loose end over 
the beam to haul up my hand and arm until I was almost on tiptoe. 

"See if you can reach up and untie yourself, honey," he invited. "I think I 
got me a real smart way to fix a gal." 

I tried to reach the knots but fell short by the full length of a hand. 
Uncle Faucet nodded, satisfied. But he laughed, "You ain't really trying, 
honey. But I can see that even if you give it all you got you'll still be 
standing here when Jimmy comes back. What you think of it?" 

"It hurts." 

"Well, I can't let it down no more," Uncle Faucet pointed out. "A bit of 
hurting ain't gonna do you no harm. And you got a free hand to do whatever 
you like with. I'll bet you play with yourself." 

"That's the last thing I want to do. I've been played with enough already," 
I said bitterly. "This is a horrible way to leave a girl. I'm all stretched 
and out of shape. If you must tie me, I don't see why you can't tie my 
wrists behind the post and leave it at that." 

"Figured you'd had enough of that post, but if that's the way you want 
it...." Grudging he slipped the rope back down the beams. Almost thankfully 
I backed against the post and crossed my wrists behind it. But this was too 
conventional so he turned me around to push my breasts hard against the wood 
and cross my wrists and tie them on the other side where I could actually 
see him tug the knots. Once more I had a wild hope of freeing myself from 
the knots until he had me actually try and then I discovered my teeth could 
reach nothing, and my fingers couldn't touch the knots either. Uncle Faucet 
seemed pleased but there was something about my new posture which gave him 
the idea I'd been hoping against all along. 

"That's a pretty little ass you've got there," he mused. "A girl's ass like 
that deserves a bit of strap. You won't mind, will you?" 

"I wish you wouldn't. I don't deserve it." 

"Ain't a case of what you deserve, darling. It's a case of what gives me a 
good feeling. Got me a nice strap out there in the car. Just you stand still 
a minute." 

I had no choice, I stood still. Uncle Faucet's bit of strap was a horrendous 
looking thing at which I cringed but told myself it was better than a cane 
or riding crop. When he impacted it across my bottom it made a sound like a 
rifle shot and left behind a burn quite different from anything I'd been 
whipped with previously. Uncle Faucet was immensely pleased and tried again. 

I struggled. I fought. I cried out in anguish. But these efforts were 
glowingly approved by this old man with his hunger for my flesh. He began a 
slow but rhythmic succession of leather slaps which cracked across my behind 
when Jimmy Gates reappeared to appraise his uncle's enterprise. I was 
already making enough noise that he need have no doubt as to my feelings on 
this matter. Pathetically, he explained, "I was saving that bit of her for 
me. I was gonna mark it up with a willow switch. Now you done spoiled it." 

"I ain't spoiled nothing, Jimmy boy. Just got her nicely warmed up for 
whatever you aims to do. She's got the loveliest little ass I ever 
tanned--come to think of it, I ain't never tanned a girl's ass before. 
Jimmy, this is our lucky day." 

Good will flowed like water, none of it was mine. I was panting my breasts 
hard against the post and looking longingly at bound wrists I could not 
touch. My curves were knowingly discussed until Uncle Faucet said, "Well, 
Jimmy boy, she's all yours. I got to get back in time to milk the cows but 
I'll likely drop back in tomorrow to have another go. Don't worry none about 
the girl's ass, it's still ripe for a switch. Be seeing ya!" 

I heaved a sigh of relief and Jimmy did the same. I suppose it's all in the 
mind but if I have do be raped by a male I prefer youth to age. My scolded 
seat blazed its burn from Uncle Faucet's strap in a manner I felt certain 
would inspire my present audience of one to further action. I longed for Ma 
Bristol with an intensity of desire. But Ma was not there and Jimmy Gates 
had me but good! 

Alone once more, Jimmy Gates put his arms around me from behind and, 
nuzzling my neck, whispered, "He didn't hurt you none, did he, Avon?" 

"Of course he hurt me! Look at the place I sit down, it's absolutely on 
fire." 

His next whisper was a tenderness I could almost believe was real concern 
for me rather than worry about the condition of a piece of property he 
temporarily owned. "I ain't gonna let him hurt you too bad, honey. I ain't 
ever figured him as mean but if he gets too rough, I'll take you away from 
here. I don't know where but I'll find a place." 

"Thank you, Jimmy. Your Uncle Faucet is probably a nice old guy but not with 
girls. Why don't you take me somewhere else right now?" 

"I'm doin' some figuring but there ain't no places good as this. If Uncle 
Faucet just steals you for a couple hours per day, we'd best put up with 
it." There came a pregnant pause. "You ain't gonna mind that, is you?" Then 
he continued before she could reply. "I'm gonna get a willow switch now. You 
won't mind that, either, right?" 

"Yes, I'll mind, I'll mind a lot. Jimmy, you've got me, be kind to me." 

"But a willow switch ain't gonna do you no harm. Besides, it depends on how 
hard I lay it on. I just do love to whip you, Avon." 

It was hopeless and I was helpless. I kept on looking at the hands I longed 
to free while obligingly separating my feet to the length of Ma's chain to 
make easier what Jimmy called "feeling me up." 

He seemed to find it interesting that my pussy was wet. He even advanced the 
argument that although I protested, I really didn't hate it at all. I liked 
it! 

I saw no point in this discussion and kept silent. Then stood in helpless 
apprehension as my master left the barn to find a willow and cut a switch. 
Quite probably he would cut several. I cringed at the thought. 

It was worse that I had thought it could be. It cut where the strap had 
burned my bottom, seeming to slash deep into my skin under the force of 
Jimmy's arm. I grunted the first time and moaned with the second. After that 
I screamed and made a tremendous fuss as my feet kicked and stamped. I knew 
it useless to struggle, but to simply stand still as the willow cut and 
seared took more self-control that I possessed. Swish after swish proceeded 
stinging agony across my bottom. I wanted to cry at the injustice of it all 
but my eyes were dry as Jimmy Gates build himself another erection at my 
expense. After we had once more performed our act upon the straw, he 
confessed, as if in wonder, how difficult it had been for him to stop. And 
to realize how a girl could be injured. When I told him how the straw hurt 
my wounded skin, he expressed pleasure in what he described as "the extra 
humpin' of my ass." As Jimmy took me into the mindless vacuum of lust, I 
knew there was no hope. 

As the light faded, we shared a can of beef stew and a banana, and fell into 
a discuss on the manner in which I should be bound in the night to keep me 
from running away while Jimmy slept. I tried the usual argument about the 
chain but it didn't work. I suppose there was no reason why it should, 
because if I was left alone long enough, I could probably hobble away to 
someplace where I could actually find help. Even very short steps will get a 
girl somewhere. 

My master decided my best place was right there on the straw where he could 
tie my hands out to either side and let me sleep with reasonable comfort but 
still be instantly available to his erection should he get one in the night. 
I felt ashamed I should be talking this awful stuff as if it were the 
weather. I suppose my state of mind proved something about a girl who's body 
had been violated repeated and who's bottom was still protesting its abuse. 
It shows how far gone I was in submission that when the time came I 
positioned myself exactly as required and offered first one wrist and then 
the other to be tied. Jimmy was clever about this, refusing to cinch me 
tight but leaving enough slack that I could move my hands a few inches 
either way. That didn't help escape at all but made this fresh helplessness 
more comfortable than it might have been. The way it turned out he could 
have tied my anyway he liked because neither of us woke up before the sun 
was shinning through the cracks in the walls. My hands were then untied. 

Then we discussed breakfast and I came up with what I thought was a really 
brilliant idea. "You love tying me up, Jimmy," I suggested, "so why don't 
you do it and put me in the back of your car and we'll go to your place for 
breakfast. You said your folks were away so let's both have a civilized meal 
in a civilize fashion. You've got to go there anyway for something to eat." 

"Hell, no, someone will get sight on your for sure. I'd best tie you here in 
the barn. Unless you'd sooner I tied you real tight and gagged your mouth as 
well, and put you in the trunk with the lid down." His eyes sought my 
approval. 

"Why can't be go and visit your Uncle Faucet? Wouldn't he give us 
breakfast?" 

"He would. But he'd screw you six times and want to beat your butt again 
before lunch." 

"All right, tie me tight and put me in the trunk. I know it won't be fun but 
it's better than being tied up in this barn alone." 

"You sure?" 

"Yes, I'm sure. If you tie me and leave me here it could be someone else 
than your uncle who comes to call. And I don't want to think what a stranger 
could do to me. I'd rather go with you in the front seat but if you won't do 
that, I'll take the trunk." 

"You're a wonderful girl, Avon. I wish you didn't think the things I does to 
you is mean." 

"And I wish you didn't do them so that makes us even. Come on, get going, 
I'm hungry." 

Beside his car Jimmy made my stand still to over my hands and see them tied, 
not in back as I had supposed, but in front. When he opened the lid I could 
see why. At each end of the trunk was a metal brace, part of the car. Jimmy 
explained how my hands would be tied to one and my ankles to the other so I 
couldn't move much. He lifted me inside where I sat on a rug while he went 
to get something to use for a gag. It was simply a wet wad of cloth and a 
thin strap and buckle. When I caught sight of them, I pleaded. "Jimmy, you 
don't need those things. You don't need to gag me. Look, I'll promise I 
won't scream." 

"You might be tempted real bad, so I ain't taking no chances. You sure you 
wouldn't sooner be tied up in the barn." 

I'd made my choice and stayed with it. I opened my mouth so my tongue could 
be buried under a wet wad of some cloth and compressed in place by the thin 
strap buckled at the back of my neck very tightly. I tried to protest but 
couldn't say a thing. Jimmy was becoming a most successful kidnapper. 

My master now laid me on my back and drew my tied hands up to one strut to 
tie them there. He then did the same with my feet, this time cinching me 
hard and tight. When he asked if I could move, I shook my head in complete 
honesty. There came the plunge into darkness, the motor started and I was 
once again being hauled away like some wild, captive animal. 

No matter how I struggled I couldn't move a thing or reach a knot. Another 
of Jimmy's favorite expressions described me perfectly-I was horn-swaggled. 

I could easy guess the period I stayed in my trunk prison with the motor 
dead was when Jimmy was in the Gates' yard, busy raiding his home for 
provisions for himself and a kidnapped girl. But when I heard the sounds of 
another car coming in and parking beside where I lay in helpless darkness, I 
could not even guess what was happening. That is, until the sound of a 
familiar voice sent me surging against the ropes and mouthing painfully 
against strapped lips. 

"Jimmy, you young bastard, where's my girl!" Ma Bristol's voice was 
unmistakable. I heard it with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. 

Jimmy must have heard her arrival and come out to investigate. To make 
things twice as bad for me, they choose to lean against his car where I 
could hear every word they said. Jimmy turned out a better actor than I 
would have thought. 

"What's you mean about your gal, Ma? I ain't got no gal." 

"Someone has. Avon's plumb disappeared and it's a cinch she didn't just walk 
away. Not with the way I had her ankles chained together. You sure you ain't 
seen her?" 

"Why would she come here?" Jimmy was doing a good job of his innocent 
farm-boy act. "Wouldn't she be more likely to go to the Simpson place?" 

"Not if she's got any sense, she wouldn't. But I suppose that applies to 
you, too. I don't trust you, Jimmy, so you'd mind if I look around?" 

"Go ahead." 

I heard Ma's retreating footsteps and ceased my struggles to attract her 
attention. Jimmy's voice was low but managed to reach my ears. "Don't worry 
none, Avon, let her have her look around. When she's satisfied, she'll go 
home. The poor old bitty thinks a lot of you." 

My reply was lost against the wad filling my mouth. I longed earnestly to 
communicate but lay there in mute misery in the darkness of the trunk. After 
a while I heard Ma Bristol's voice again. 

"Well, she's not here, lad. But I ain't trusting you an inch. If I find 
you've got her hid someplace, you'll be the sorriest young buck in the 
county. And I've said the same to Hattie Simpson. If neither of you have got 
that girl, I'll be damned if I know who has. But, with her feet chained the 
way I had them, she ain't wandered off on her own." by the time Ma Bristol 
had delivered her dire warnings, I'd exhausted myself. Evidently the sad, 
small sounds I could make would not penetrated the metal of the car. When 
the motor started up again, I knew I'd had the saddest and most frustrating 
joy-ride a girl could ever dream about. I cursed my helplessness but had to 
pay a tribute to the young master who had acted with such cool under fire. 
He had certainly been right in guessing that I should be fastened and gagged 
very securely. 

I wept all the way back. 

When he untied my helpless naked body and unstrapped the gag from my mouth, 
Jimmy was anxious I should appreciate his foresight. "You should never have 
come," he pointed our reasonably. "But since you did I'll bet you can 
understand why I had to fix you so hard and tight the way I did. No hard 
feelings?" 

"No hard feelings, Jimmy. I thought I would burst while you and Ma were 
talking, I was trying so hard to say something or get my hands free. You did 
a wonderful job on me." 

Breakfast made us both feel better. But then I was back to square one with 
Jimmy's rod rampart for my sheath. And after that the inevitable debate as 
to how I should be tied up for the day. I fear I argued very little, it just 
seemed like a loosing proposition. It hadn't done me any good the day before 
and I didn't suppose it would now. But my anxiety was fertile with 
suggestions. 

"Why don't you leave me on the straw, Jimmy, but tie one of my ankles to the 
planks on that partition? I can't reach the knots so there would be no 
danger of me getting loose." 

"Maybe you couldn't but I don't trust you. And, anyway, I want you so you'd 
be handy when I want a screw. We ain't done it dog fashion, so that's the 
way you're going to be tied. Hands behind your back, sweetheart." 

What else could I do but obey! I stood miserably as cords robbed me of my 
hands, and when that was done the beam above was once more used with my tied 
wrists and one end and Jimmy hauling on the other end of the rope. The 
results was my arms raised up and up while I bend over. When he'd raised my 
arms so far I was sure my shoulders would dislocate, he stopped to tether me 
in exactly that position while I complained. "Jimmy, you can't possibly 
leave me like this all day! I'll be hurt!" 

"Yes, I can, honeybunch. If you want to sort of come up for air, you'll find 
you can. It's hard on your arms but you'll find you can manage it. You don't 
have to panic." 

My captor was right. By straining I could raise my head to a proper level 
until the stress became too great to bear and I once again bend shamefully 
to expose those portions of a girl that should not be shown. I was tired of 
pleading so just kept quiet. 

What was inevitable. Jimmy must have read about it in a book but it was 
certainly new to me. But some girl, when they're bent over the way I was, 
stick their pussy out back to provide the conquering male with an easy 
target. Jimmy grasped my hips in control of my body and drew them back 
against his loins and the once-more erect phallus by which I was to be 
impaled. If there are girls who like it done to them this way, they're 
welcome. I could see no virtue in this approach, but, since I couldn't do a 
thing about it, I simply endured Jimmy's hard rod as it rammed into my 
sheath. 

From his point of view, my impaling in this position was unique and 
evidently rather satisfying. He left me tied like that throughout the day. 
He explained this to me as if I might be pleased but my struggled and 
protests told a different story to anyone who would listen. But he had a one 
track mind and he saw me fulfilling two delightful functions. I was most 
certainly "Tied up." And, with an equal certainty, was available for a "good 
screwing" whenever he wished. 

I discovered a little while later that this way of being tied provided his 
tool with more than one target. I was forced, under threat of a willow 
switch across my bare bottom, to raise my head up and accept his rod into my 
mouth, therein to perform and ancient but nevertheless shaming act of oral 
sex. Evidently Jimmy found that pleasing for he climaxed in my mouth with a 
cry of delight. I felt like a whore, a sex object, not a human being. 

I was kept available and employed for various sex acts throughout the 
morning until I gave up hope and struggling to simply hang against my tied 
wrists with my hair falling around my head. It's a real shocker when I girl 
concedes the potency of male strength in complete mastery over her. Jimmy 
Gates was very happy with his fresh discoveries. 

Jimmy gave me back my hands so I could join him at lunch. I was discovering 
that whenever I was untied I would be enveloped in a wave of pure joy in a 
return to some sort of normalcy. We chatted as we ate even though Jimmy's 
topic was his favorite one of how to tie up Avon next. I was at that point 
of mind where a girl feels nothing matters anymore. I'd been screwed both 
front and behind to a fare-thee-well and was beginning to realize that a 
girl could probably be used as a sex slave forever. 

And the worst part was that a part of me liked it! I would not have 
voluntarily have allow these things done to me, but my body seemed to accept 
them, even embrace them with a sexual warmth that shocked me. A girl treated 
thus was just not suppose to like it. 

I ate lunch with surprising gusto. 

Confrontations were now a part of my day. When Jimmy inquired how I would 
like to be tied up for the afternoon, I had my answer ready and asked why 
didn't he tie my hands behind my back and leave it at that! My feet were 
already chained and if he robbed me of my hands, he could feel he had me 
safe. He listened doubtfully to my suggestion before admitting he had 
something else in mind. After that I simply allowed myself to be pushed 
around and posed in any way he pleased. We ended up with him tying my hands 
behind my back but then lifting me to put me astride the top of one of the 
partitions between the stalls. It was only possible when he bend my legs 
backward to accommodate the chain joining my ankles. I could balance only by 
holding tightly with my knees and thighs against the wood partition. My 
hands were useless in keeping my balance and I feared a fall to the hard 
earth floor might come at any time. But the worst part came when I realized 
that my weight was squarely upon my pussy and the wooden board I was 
astride. I tried to hold myself up with my thighs pressing against the wood 
but it was a loosing battle. Slowly I settled down until the wood dug deeply 
into my tender and private place. 

It would have been a horrible way to spend any time and there might have 
really been a possibility of my falling from my perch, but Jimmy fixed me so 
that falling was impossible. He tied a rope to my leg just below the knee 
and pulled that away from the partition. Then he did the same with my other 
leg, leaving me with knees spread wide and all my weight upon that thin 
wooden board. I was pleading, begging him to realize just how painful this 
was and the terrible harm he was doing to my sexual parts. He ignored me. 

I could not fall now but was in a horrible position that I knew would grow 
more and more painful as each minute crawled by. It appeared I was once 
again an artist creation of this young man. I could make few motions but 
what I did pleased Jimmy mightily, no doubt generating a fresh erection 
within his pants. Pathetically I sat upon my sex, fearing to move least I 
grind the wood against my tender flesh. I had rarely felt so helpless. 

I don't know how long it was before my moans turned into cries and then to 
screams. But it was about that point when Uncle Faucet reappeared. 

"What you think you're doing to her, Jimmy boy? That there ain't just a way 
to tie a girl up. That there's a way to torture them, it is. Get her off of 
there before you mash her cunt." 

"But, Uncle, I was only trying out...." 

"Boy, you're still wet behind the ears. Get yourself out of here and I'd 
take over for a while. That poor girl needs some tender, loving care. And 
that's just what I came to provide. There's an apple pie in the cupboard. 
Why don't you go eat it?" 

Jimmy departed and Uncle Faucet took charge. I managed to bottle my screams 
while he was fumbling with knots but then, when he lifted me off, a sad 
little scream left me as my weight came off the board. My thanks were 
sincere as I was laid upon the hard ground. I wondered what I would have 
done if Uncle Faucet had not come in. It certainly appeared that Jimmy had 
plans to leave me sitting there for a painfully long time, perhaps the rest 
of the day. Uncle Faucet seemed a real nice guy right then. 

He had also shaved. 

"Here, let me rub it for you, girlie. That young asshole might have done you 
harm." His voice was actually caring as his hands sought my sex. Since my 
hands were still tied behind my back, I could do nothing but let him enjoy 
himself. I have to hand it to Uncle Faucet that his hands were gentle. 

We must have made a strange picture-a naked girl with ankles chained and 
hands bound behind her back while a rustic palmed her puss and earnestly 
assured, "I'd take you over permanent, girlie, if it wasn't for Ma Bristol. 
Wouldn't be long before she found out where you was and then there'd be hell 
to pay. That feel better?" 

"Yes, thank you. You can stop now." 

"Getting you excited?" 

"No, I'm not sure I'll ever be excited again. That was awful on the edge of 
that wood. Would you like to untie my hands." 

"I'll untie them if you promise to be a good girl while I knock off a piece. 
I've been in rare form thinking about you over night. My Willie wants you 
bad." 

"I'll promise that if you'll promise not to whip me after you're through 
with what you just said. Please don't whip me today." 

"Look, gal, you trying to tell me what to do?" Uncle Faucet was offended. 
"You got lots of places ready for that strap of mine and I aim to get to 
them after I've cooled my cock in your cunt. Get down on that straw, girlie, 
won't hurt you none to lay on tied hands." 

It was hateful and demeaning. And I had to wonder what Grandma would be 
thinking of me if she knew. I suppose any girl in the fix I was in thinks 
there ought be something she could do about it. But I couldn't run and I 
couldn't fight. And anything I said would just antagonize this old man. I 
figured it was best to have Uncle Faucet as a friend. So I lay on the straw 
and arranged myself in a posture of shame for his convenience. He then 
proceeded to avail himself of my body with all the gusto of a much younger 
man. I lay there wishing the ugliness would end yet dreading the sensation 
of uncles thrusts for that would certainly mean a resumption of his 
obsession for putting marks upon my skin. But end it finally did, with Uncle 
Faucet resuming his pants. 

"You're the best I ever had, girlie," he avowed as he looked down upon the 
seat of his pleasure. 

But I just didn't care any more. I waited expectantly. 

Uncle Faucet lifted me erect and untied my hands. It shows how far gone I 
was in humiliation that I said a most sincere, "Thank you, uncle," for the 
small mercy of their release. While I massaged chaffed wrists his palm 
returned to my moist mound to busy itself with comforting my injury although 
I could see no connection between what he was doing and my roped wrists. 

"You spoke of Ma Bristol," I said finally. "Why don't you take me back to 
her, she'd be ever so grateful?" 

"What good would that do me, honeybunch?" 

"Well, it's better to have Ma as a friend than an enemy. And maybe she'd 
lend me to you once in a while if that's what you want." 

"What! That old bitty!" Uncle Faucet laughed. "She don't lend nobody 
nothing. And, anyway, I got you right now, all safe and sound with your 
pretty little slit in real good shape and ready for the next ride. Although 
it's gonna have to wait 'cause I ain't as young as I was and I'll need to 
lace into you with the leather before John Willie's ready to go again. Your 
back ain't marked so how'd it be I use it this time 'round?" 

"Please don't whip me. I haven't done a thing wrong and don't deserve it." I 
sniffed. 

Uncle Faucet paid no heed. Probably he never heard a word I said. Busily he 
roped each of my punished wrists and positioned my nakedness beneath the 
beam to toss the ropes up and over. They were pulled tight to raise me up on 
my toes. He next found an old battered wooden box on which I was ordered to 
stand enabling him to raise my arms again. When he kicked away the thing on 
which I stood, I found myself suspended with my feet off the floor and my 
wrists once more screaming murder. 

There was an awful moment of disorientation as I swung back and forth after 
the removal of the box and I realized how well Uncle Faucet had positioned 
me for the purpose he had in mind. I could dance and kick to my heart's 
content but because he had tied my hands well apart I could not turn or take 
evasive action. 

"That's real perty, young lady," said Uncle Faucet. "And the nice thing 
'bout havin' you hung up is you can kick all you want. I dearly love to see 
a girl kicking when there ain't nothin' to kick. I'll go and get what I plan 
to use on you." 

I was gasping and making enough noise to let anyone know how horrible it was 
to be hung up like a side of beef. He returned a few moments later, not with 
the leather strap, but with an old fashion buggy whip which I eyed with 
apprehension. 

"I ain't aiming to cut you up or bruise that pretty pelt," Uncle Faucet said 
cheerfully. "But if you ain't had no buggy whip used on you before, this 
will be a real experience. Now don't you forget to kick all you want because 
watching a gal kick is half the fun. Let's try this for size." 

I had expected the slender whip to be slashed around my waist to curl and 
lick and bit, and perhaps sometimes marking one of my breasts. But it now 
appeared that skill was involved as in flicking a horse fly from a horse's 
rump. Whatever it may be called, Uncle Faucet was adept in it's use. The 
effect was a sharp, cruel snap to make me yelp at the sudden burn which 
would leave a mark upon my skin no more than five inches long. By the time 
he had neatly snapped me a dozen times, I had small but painful wounds in 
one armpit, my waist, and one of the cheeks of my bottom. I am shamed to say 
I kicked lustily against each snickering snap. But such relief I discovered 
in the act was counter-balanced by uncle's shrewd snapping inside my thigh. 
In his hands the buggy whip was intensely personal and charged with venom. I 
didn't give a damn about Uncle Faucet's pleasure but kicked and danced in a 
physical effort to rid myself of pain. Or perhaps unconsciously to show how 
cruel he was being to a helpless naked girl. I think had cut at me about 
twenty times when a male voice exclaimed from the doorway, "Well, I'll be 
damned! This is the place." 

Startled, I looked back over a bare shoulder to behold a man in uniform and 
one other. It was Westley Wallace. 

 CHAPTER NINE - Prune's Whipping 

Ginevera knew herself privileged to watch Prune's painful progress down the 
pathway to becoming eligible for entry to Miss Prelate's Class. The maiden 
from New York was as far removed from Trinity and the atmosphere of the 
ancient castle as any girl could be. But throughout her ordeals, Prune was 
obviously intensely motivated to wear the Trinity handcuffs on her wrists 
and the shackle on her ankle every night, suffering them gladly in her 
search for education. That she was complaining verbal throughout this period 
of initiation was no more than in keeping with the character Trinity sought 
to modify. As Lady Alyth, Ginevera and their new recruit walked to the room 
of punishments, Prune's vocalizing was a commentary on everything she saw. 

While entering the fateful chamber her reaction was instant, "Holly cow! 
Ain't this some sort of torture chamber? What I mean is look at all these 
wooden things with holes. And I'll bet those holes are for a girl's neck and 
wrists and ankles. Gee whiz, you do things right, don't cha?" 

"If our only punishment was the whip, our girls would soon be bored, dear," 
Lady Alyth explained gently. "But with these things we can do all sorts of 
punishments. I expect you'll get to try these things out. For instance, 
should you wish to try we could stand you in the pillory right now for an 
hour or so. So you'll know what it's like?" 

"Shit no! Let's get on with this whipping business and get it over with. 
That Rooster gang used to whip me now and then but I'll bet it weren't 
nothing like this. You do things right." There was a pause as she looked 
down. "Why are you unlocking the handcuffs?" 

"You hands get strapped above your head, dear. It's by far the best position 
for a girl, beautifully simple. Just do what Ginevera says, she'll make sure 
you're properly secured." 

Ginevera was aware of a guilty feeling at the excitement she felt during the 
process of binding Prune. Using a box to help her get high enough, Ginevera 
inserted a youthful hand into the leather loop and buckled it tight around 
the slender wrist. With both hands secured well above the girl's head, 
Ginevera took away the box to join Lady Alyth in surveying the naked girl 
who had never been thus whipped before. Prune was looking up at her strapped 
hands and tugging as though to measure helplessness. 

"Makes me sort of pubic, don't it?" she remarked. "What I mean is anyone 
comes by can cop a feel or bite my tit or maybe lift me up for a 
knee-trembler." She eyed them in a truly human anxiety. "Look, you two, for 
Pete's sake, don't hit me too damned hard." 

Standing to the rear and one side, Ginevera watched Lady Alyth's first swish 
across Prune's shoulders. That brought an instant response. "For Pete's 
sake, not so hard!" Prune was busy pedaling a non-existent bicycle. "I asked 
you not to let me have it real hard but here you go and belt me like I was a 
horse. Can't you take it easy, that hurt something awful." 

Lady Alyth did not seem to hear. Her second stroke was exactly like the 
first except lower down. It drew another complaint. The third and forth 
followed quickly with Prune's exclamations becoming more personal and loud. 
Lady Alyth's fifth was in the nature of a reprimand, being more severe than 
all the rest. 

"You rotten bitch! You absolute asshole! No one said nothing about whipping 
me to bits. Lay off, will ya, I've had enough!" 

Lady Alyth paused. Her voice was gentle but Ginevera could see a tension in 
her lovely face. "I would advise you to watch your tongue and control 
yourself. You are now one quarter through our ritual. And the strokes still 
to come need not be as hard as the one I've just given you. That was a 
warning. Jump around all you like but be careful what you say." 

Lady Alyth swung the whip again to bit at tender thighs. Ginevera watched 
breathlessly, sharing every blow. Ginevera suspected that Prune, despite her 
loud protests, was actually doing her best to be stoic. Walking to where she 
could stand face to face with the quivering neophyte, Ginevera consoled 
wisely. "The things you say in New York are not the things you say here. Why 
don't you scream instead?" 

"Shit! You mean I'm allowed to?" 

The blows were continuing as the two girls spoke. "Of course you can scream. 
But watch what you say. And the things you call her. Remember, she's our 
mistress, she can do whatever she likes with either one of us. 

You're not the least bit free." 

"You're telling me! This politeness thing-you want me to tell her thank you 
every time she takes a whack at me?" 

"It might be a good idea if you can manage it." 

Prune actually tried and Ginevera's heart went out to the whipped girl as 
she gasped each pathetic thank you for strokes received. Four strokes later 
Prune began to scream and Ginevera stood back in awe at such much sound. 
Lady Alyth caught her eye and smiled her wise and knowing smile. But she 
made no pause in what was, after all, only the regular fortnightly ritual 
for every girl in Trinity. 

When the last slash had marked the young girl's skin, Prune hung silent and 
limp in her straps. As the two watchers made to withdraw. Prune plead, 
"Please don't go. I know you're suppose to leave me like this for a while 
but please leave Ginevera here. Just a little while?" 

"Ginevera, come here with me." Lady Alyth's rebuke was stern. "We'll leave 
our guest to think about the things a pupil at Trinity should know and how 
she should behave. Maybe in an hour she'll be more polite." 

Ginevera was obedient and the two women left the room to the tune of Prune's 
pleas not to be left so bound and alone. When they came back an hour later 
it was to discover a nude young woman who obviously had done a lot of 
thinking and was apprehensive about what came next. 

"How'd I make out?" Prune inquired. 

"You did splendidly, dear. A pity you spoiled it with some bad remarks." 

"I figured I done all right. What was it I said." 

"You called me a bitch, dear." Lady Alyth's tone was a tiger's purr. "A 
bitch is a female dog-hardly a compliment." 

"It just popped out. I'm sorry." 

"You also mentioned me as an asshole." 

"You mean that's bad!" Prune sounded shocked. "Shit, I'm calling someone an 
asshole all the time. Most people are assholes." 

"Look at me. Prune, and repeat what you said." 

The fastened girl moved from one foot to the other uneasily, twisting at 
wrists. Reluctantly her eyes fastened on the woman before her. "Didn't aim 
to hurt your feelings. I promise I won't call you an asshole anymore." She 
paused hopefully. "How about unstrapping my hands?" 

"Of course. Ginevera, would you mind?" To the whipped girl she said coldly, 
"I can't possibly forgive those two foul names. You'll be punished for 
them." 

"What do you mean punished! You just whipped my ass and most of the rest of 
me. Ain't that enough?" 

"That was not a punishment. Prune. It was your first taste of a ritual we 
practice here at Trinity. In two weeks it will be done to you again. You 
will be punished for calling me names." 

Prune looked from one to the other of her companions, finding pity but no 
forgiveness. In the ringing tones of a declaration, she affirmed, "I don't 
want to be punished no more. Them two words don't mean nothing." 

"They mean a lot to me and to Trinity, Prune. Will you do as you're told now 
or would you like me to call the guards?" 

"Oh shit! Don't want no guards. What ya want me to do?" 

It was a dejected but curious young woman who surveyed the bench and stocks 
the upper yoke of which Ginevera was holding invitingly open. "You sit down 
and position your feet where Ginevera's waiting for them," said Lady Alyth. 
"You're a sensible girl, Prune, not to make a fuss." 

Gingerly Prune lowered her whipped bottom upon the hard bench and looked 
doubtfully at the waiting half circles. Obviously hating ever move, the 
punished girl inserted an ankle within one of them and, then discovering no 
hurt, simply put in the other. At that point Ginevera lowered the upper yoke 
to encase a pair of transatlantic feet solidly in oak. Down went the iron 
latch and padlocked snapped shut. 

"Well, I'll be damned," Prune said in admiration. T read about these things 
but didn't ever figure to get fixed in one. This all there is to it?" 

"Tie her hands behind her back, Ginevera. I don't want her easing her weight 
off the bench." 

Ginevera could have performed the task quickly had she not been handcuffed. 
But she crossed Prune's wrists and bound them tight in the manner of long 
experience and bitter memory. Laughingly she kissed a baffled prisoner and 
then rejoined the woman who owned them both. Prune was making tentative 
motions of discovery. "You've got my feet so far apart my sex is showing," 
she accused modesty. "You should have let me wear panties." 

"You look fine, dear." 

"My ass hurts." 

"That's because it's been whipped and the bench is coated with sandpaper. 
You have to expect some discomfort." 

"I read about these here things. Seems I seen a set someplace once. I'll bet 
I'm going to get awful sick of sitting with my ass on sandpaper. You ain't 
gonna leave me here long, are you?" 

"Long enough, dear. You can sit and think about the words you shouldn't use. 
Come along, Ginevera, we'll leave the poor girl to her thoughts." 

Ginevera had other things to think about than Prune. "Are you making a gift 
of me to Westley or am I sleeping in the dorm?" she asked. 

Lady Alyth laughed. "How would it be I let you chose," she asked. 

"But I can't do that. A girl can't walk up to a man and simply ask if he 
would take her to bed." 

"I don't think you have to worry, Ginevera, dear. I've told Westley he can 
do whatever he wants with you. I'm mentioned marriage, of course, but 
haven't pushed it. Not after last time." 

"Westley likes to whip me. He's been away long enough to get hot and 
bothered about it. But you've whipped me once already today. Please make him 
give me a few days rest." 

"Persuade him yourself, Ginevera. He's only a man and a girl can do anything 
with a man." 

"I'm not a bit certain about that. I didn't have much luck last time." 

"Well, darling, between me playing a trick on you then going and getting 
yourself kidnapped, we were all a bit handicapped. Try again, I think the 
dear boy's in love with you." 

Westley served the brandy in the lounge. He was only mildly concerned with 
the girl seated in the stocks but treated Ginevera with such an air of 
possession as to warm her heart and sparkle the eyes of Lady Alyth. When he 
announced that Ginevera would be sharing his bed, there was no trace of 
descent and he moved on to his next question. 

"I'm wondering about that girl, Avon," he said thoughtfully. I imagine she's 
making out all right but she must have served more than half her sentence so 
what's the plan for getting her back when it expires? That old woman on the 
farm isn't getting Ginevera again." 

"Well, damn it, Westley, we're not a bit short of girls. When Avon's 
sentence is finished why don't you invite this Ma Bristol to visit Trinity 
and bring Avon with her. I'll foot the bill and we can turn the old girl 
loose among the girls and she can pick which ever one takes her fancy. Diana 
still shows traces of rebellion so maybe a stretch on an Ozark farm will do 
her good. I have an impression that when Ma Bristol gets a girl, that girl 
stays put." 

"I like that a lot, it's a wonderful idea." Ginevera was truly pleased. "I'm 
fond of Ma Bristol and I'm sure she'd understand. I mean about Avon's six 
month sentence and Avon's grandmother." 

Westley nodded. "It would save me acting as courier or escort, so I won't 
figure on another trip out there. Look, is that girl you've got down in the 
stocks going to be a nuisance? If I'd been quicker on the draw I could have 
taken her to Ma Bristol while I was over there. Then the old girl would have 
had two of them." 

"Prune needs polishing. We'll feed her some good food and fill out that 
slender body. At the same time we'll teach her how to talk. She's a bit of a 
rough diamond but Miss Prelate will look after that. Don't worry yourself 
about Prune." 

"Everything seems to be well in hand." Westley was thoughtfully playing with 
Ginevera's hair. She was laying on the rug beside his chair. "But, Auntie, 
I've been away quite a while and I found myself spending too much time 
dreaming about whipping Ginevera's bottom. And a few other places, of 
course. Then when I show up I found that you've done the job for me. Looking 
at the dear girl from a rear view, she's beautifully marked. It's a bit of a 
let down." 

"If you'd had phoned us you were coming, Ginevera wouldn't have gotten 
whipped. Life doesn't stand still while you're away, you know." 

Westley grunted. "How about me whipping her all over again," he suggested 
slyly. "If I asked her real nice I'll be she'll say yes." 

"I've already told the dear child it's between the two of you. When you take 
her to bed you can discuss it. Maybe she'll offer you ideas about other 
places. A girl has more to offer than just her bottom, you know." 

Ginevera shivered deliciously but said no word. Westley grunted thoughtfully 
before saying, "I suppose I could use one of the others but it's not the 
same. Damned funny how a man makes discoveries about himself. Seems I have 
to love a girl to enjoy whipping her. It might be amusing to whip young 
Erin." 

"Keep your hands off Erin, she's too young. I'll let you know when she's 
ready." 

"She's ready now. You know damned well she's been wanting to sleep with me 
since way back. It's one of the nicest compliments I've had. She's a sweet 
child. And if it wasn't for Ginevera I'd give you an argument about how 
ready she really is." He pulled Ginevera's hair. "You can pour the brandy. 
And then we'll go to bed." 

"Westley, you say the most outrageous things," Ginevera said when they were 
alone in the bedroom. "Would you really want to whip Erin?" 

"Of course I do. She's a mischievous little nymphet who would adore every 
stroke. And, anyway, I'd lay it on lightly the first time. I've always known 
the ladyship would give the little sweetheart to me whenever she figured the 
time was right. Or should I say when Erin was ripe. Why don't you do some 
persuading on my behalf. That it is something Erin wants more than anything 
else. I have to feel humble over the adoration that child gives me." 

"Why do you have to bother with that child when you've got me?" 

"Nothing to do with you, my pet." Westley patted a whip-marked bottom. "Erin 
represents an unfulfilled ambition." 

"You're a dirty old man. Who doesn't deserve either of us. But since you've 
got me and I have to do what I'm told, maybe you should brief me on what to 
expect. I don't want to expose myself on the bed if you're not in the mood." 

"You know what I'm in the mood for, I want to give you a good, old-fashioned 
whipping. But I'll admit I'm not a bit fussy about whipping your breasts. 
That aunt of mine sometimes gets a bit far out for my tastes. She's a 
remarkable woman." 

"How about whipping the soles of my feet. I understand it's highly thought 
of in some circles." 

"Not in mine. You'd hate me forever. It hurts worse than you think. No. what 
I want to do is whip your back and cane your bottom. Sorry, but that's the 
way of it." 

Ginevera was shocked by the wave of sexual excitement which swept over her. 
To be whipped by this man who was tenderly massaging her bottom and teasing 
her nipples was now what she wanted, perhaps more than he did. And she 
wondered why she had seen it otherwise. 

"Very well, Westley," she said quietly. "Take me to the punishment room and 
whip me. I want you to. Honest, I do." 

Without a word, Westley picked her up and carried her downstairs. When she 
was standing beneath the supple straps she whispered, "You'd best gag me, 
darling. I'm not a bit sure how I'm going to take this." 

"For Pete's sake, do I have to sit her all night! My ass is killing me." The 
New York lament broke into their private little scene. Westley had failed to 
notice the girl still firmly locked in the stocks and Ginevera had 
forgotten. Westley was annoyed. "Take the damned girl upstairs and shackle 
her foot. I'll wait for you here," he said tersely. "And hurry." 

"I can't get Prune out of the stock. Lady Alyth has the key." 

Westley was not easily defeated. He strapped a gag inside Prune's loud mouth 
and bandaged a pair of eyes that they would not witness what was going to 
take place. In a return of his customary good humor, he took Ginevera in his 
arms and kissed her long and tenderly. 

"I won't forget what you're doing for me tonight," he whispered. "I love you 
very much." 

"Ohhhhhh, Westley!" The two words were rich in a message between a woman and 
a man. 

"Are you sure you really want this, sweetheart?" Westley dangled the 
contraption of steel and rubber before her. "It's your choice, not mine." 

"I not only want it but I need it." The words were grim but tinged with 
laughter. "Fasten my hands first so I won't change my mind." 

With wrists willing to be strapped the task was simple. But Westley used all 
his male strength to insure a tight fit. Ginevera was sustained by a 
continuing glow of lust. "Open your mouth, sweetheart," came the order. She 
accepted the gag by which she would keep her anguish to herself. Westley 
strapped it savagely tight to compress her cheeks and seal her lips as 
though he, too, wished her screams to remain her own. He took Lady Alyth's 
whip from the wall. But before he used it, he held his loved one very 
tenderly and very long. When he at last broke from her, the helpless girl 
closed her eyes. In the far corner of the huge chamber a naked and bound 
girl listened intently for the sounds of an ordeal she was glad she would 
not share. 

With the first cut of the whip, Ginevera bit hard upon the rubber wad while 
her lips strained against the leather and steel. She was well aware that 
half the lashes her lover planted on her skin would find some virgin space 
but the other half would most certainly fall upon the wounds Lady Alyth had 
placed there earlier that day. By and standards she had invited upon herself 
an ordeal beyond what any girl should bear. Thinking about it afterwards, 
she was never sure how she had been able to take the incredible pain save 
that she had drifted off into some misty world where her body was isolated 
from her mind. The fire and scold of her second punishment of that day had 
been transformed into an act of loving from the male hands she loved. 

Only dimly conscious of the muted screams beating against the gag, Ginevera 
remembered mostly the shining eyes of her lover as his arms brought the 
leather to impact against her skin again and again. And of the certain 
impalement on his erection when this was through. 

When, after years had passed, Westley cast aside the thong and with it all 
his clothes, he clutched in the most urgent need the stripped bottom of the 
girl he had sorely whipped to raise her helpless nakedness to where his 
seeking phallus found entry in the warm, wet sheath. Then he lowered her 
gently until her legs and thighs clamped hard and crossed behind his back to 
make the two of them as one. And even though she was still tight gagged, 
Ginevera's moans managed to match his own as she fought strapped wrists in 
an instinctive need to wrap her loving arms around his neck. 

Prune saw nothing and spoke no word. 

Miss Prelate accepted Prune in much the manner of someone finding a 
rattlesnake in their bed. Everything about the new prisoner was an offense. 
Prune failed to match the uniform loveliness of the Class, although Miss 
Prelate's eagle eye noted possibilities for improvement. The new girl was 
sent with a couple of member of the class to where her hair might be made 
more feminine and cosmetic skills improve her appearance. All three were 
admonished to try and do something about the new girl's disastrous speech. 

The Trinity girls had always spent much of their imprisonment on personal 
adornment, bring to their captivity an assortment of skills. And when Prune 
was return for Miss Prelate's inspection she was visibly a much better 
looking girl. She already wore the Trinity handcuffs upon her wrists. She 
was told where to sit and especially to listen. With good will in both 
camps, the morning passed without punishment. But Prune's attention span was 
not the greatest and she was still troubled by sore and tender whereon she 
sat. The result was that she was constantly wiggling. When told to repeat 
the sentence another girl had read, she fell short with slang not belonging 
to the King's English. Miss Prelate felt properly shocked and demanded that 
Prune come to stand before the class and make effort to amend her 
scholarship. Miss Prelate should have known better. 

Prune stared back at twenty expectant young ladies, all as naked and 
handcuffed as herself, obviously nervous. She did her best to recall the 
line but failed miserably. 

The silence was one of shock at the mess she had made of a simple quote. The 
prelate pounced. "Silence! Such garbled nonsense in affront. Hold our your 
hand." 

"You ain't aiming to hit me with that thing, is you?" Prune caught sight of 
the cane in Miss Prelate's hand. "Look, I ain't done nothing. What's the 
beef?" 

"Your hand, girl. This instant!" 

"I can't hold out nothing, I'm handcuffed." 

"Don't quibble, handcuffs do not prevent you." 

Prune extended both hands as though to receive a gift. But Miss Prelate 
wasted no time in argument. "Stand still and hold that hand out, palm up, 
you ridiculous creature," she ordered. "I expect full cooperation in your 
punishment and if I don't get it, you'll be a very sorry girl." 

"Shit, what I done?" Prune was genuinely concerned and felt her academic 
future fading into limbo. 

"The Class will inform you of that later. Now, stand still and behave 
yourself." 

The swish was, as always, cruel. For a split second the punished girl stood 
still in shock and disbelief at the pain. Then a bare foot lashed up to 
connect with Miss Prelate's groin. "You rotten bitch," she exclaimed in firm 
conviction. "I wouldn't hurt no dog this bad. You ruined my hand." 

Miss Prelate gasped and stepped back to clutch that portion of herself 
injured. When anger overcame pain she wasted no words but took a firm grip 
with thumb and finger upon Prune's closest ear to lead her, bitterly 
complaining, to what the Class always laughingly referred to as a "fate 
worse than death," a visit to the office of Lady Alyth. 

Lady Alyth had coped with these scenes before. Mistresses were instructed 
not to go beyond the cane in their infliction of discipline. If the sin 
demanded a stronger punishment, the culprit was to be brought before the 
personal attention of Lady Alyth. In this case Lady Alyth wished that Prune 
had been more restrained in her reaction to proper punishment. But she 
listened to Miss Prelate's indignation before turning to a tearful girl to 
inquire what she had to say. It would have been better if Prune had said 
nothing. 

"This rotten bitch don't like the way I talk." Prune was direct. "She 
figured I made a fuck up over some girl named Juliet and some guy named 
Romeo. Then, without me doing nothing bad, not even giving her lip, she 
whacks my hand with a lousy cane and damned near cut it in two. That's where 
I kicked her cunt." 

Lady Alyth sighed. This one might not be easy. Most of her girls were 
submissive enough from the imprisonment, handcuffs on their wrists, and the 
fortnightly whippings to be careful about what the said and did. Especially 
about anything relative to Angela Prelate who they justly feared. 

"I'm sure you were thinking of some sort of punishment, Miss Prelate," Lady 
Alyth said evenly. "What did you have in mind?" 

Angela Prelate took a deep breath. "The girl should be flogged beyond a 
normal whipping. A second choice might be to keep her in the dungeon for 
perhaps a month." She paused and then added, "I suppose we could suspend her 
by her thumbs." 

"They're all terribly unoriginal, Angela. I do try to avoid the banal." 

"I will be governed by your own choice. Madam." 

Once more Lady Alyth sighed. "I am sure the girl's thumbs will be quite 
adequate," she said regretfully. "Will you be good enough to take Prune 
downstairs?" 

In the matter of reply, Prune beat Miss Prelate to the punch. "You have to 
be kidding," she blurted out. "There ain't no way I'm getting myself hung up 
by my thumbs." She turned to Lady Alyth with heaving breasts. "Why the hell 
don't you string this old bag up the way she says. That's the sort of lousy 
thing the Rooster fellows would have thought up. Shit, I'm going home." 

"You can't go home, dear, you're a prisoner." Lady Alyth pressed a button on 
her desk. 

Prune put up a valiant fight but the guards handled her with patient ease to 
lift her from the floor and carry her down the stone steps, followed by an 
indignant Miss Prelate and the owner of Trinity who wished her senior 
mistress would be more tolerant of her pupils. 

Quick Prune was strung up by snared thumbs until her feet were well off the. 
stone floor and kicking wildly. Even then her courage got the better of her. 
"You rotten lot of bastards," she stormed. "Look, don't leave me like this 
and go away laughing. If you'll put me on the floor, I'll say I'm sorry and 
I promise I won't beef to no cops. Oh, please!" 

They left her to hang in loneliness and went away. The closing of the door 
was the knell of doom. 

The girl from New York hung motionless. She soon discovered that any motion 
intensified the hurt. Escape did not enter her mind, it was too impossible. 
All she need be concerned with was how long she would be left in this wicked 
suspension. The Rooster gang had amused themselves with her in many ways but 
never anything that promised to be as prolong and painful as this. Prune was 
not prone to tears but first one and then another escaped her eyes to 
trickle down her cheeks. She moaned and wished that nice Westley fellow 
would show up and take her down. If he screwed her too it would be even 
better. But, more urgently she wondered if she were woman enough to stand 
the gaff, pay attention and lean whatever it was Miss Prelate had to teach. 

Not that her intention to do better in class helped her much now. She moaned 
and moaned again as she endured a punishment that felt like it would go on 
forever. 

In her office the owner of Trinity Castle wondered if any other woman had to 
be an mentally on the ball as her. Prune was downstairs hanging by her 
thumbs, Miss Prelate was admonishing her class, and now her own favorite 
slavegirl stared earnestly across her desk. 

"Westley and I have had quite a talk," Ginevera confessed slyly. "He really 
does want to marry me but he's come up with a set of Rules." 

"I'll just bet he has. And I'll also bet I can guess most of them. Carry on, 
darling." 

"Well, you know his thing about whipping girls." Ginevera squirmed upon a 
tender seat. "I'm terribly sore from getting it twice yesterday. And when I 
backed up to the mirror this morning I got shock." 

"You were beautifully whipped, darling." 

"Well, yes, I suppose I was. But he now tells me I have to be whipped once 
every two weeks even though I would be his wife. He says that if he has to 
go away on business he'll put me back here among the girls where I'll be 
subject to all the usual rules, naked and handcuffed and all the rest." 

"What else could you expect, dear?" 

"I suppose I was silly but I wasn't expecting that. I thought that when a 
girl gets married she was sort of ... privileged." 

"You will be, darling, I'll make sure of it. What Westley is talking about 
is the odd bits of time when he's not around. I think it's a splendid idea." 

"Westley likes the idea of the two of us having an apartment in the castle 
here. He says it's your idea?" 

"And what a wonderful idea it is! Total privacy if you want it and all the 
facilities of Trinity Castle if you don't. Darling, don't complain." 

Ginevera held up her hands. "You see I'm still handcuffed and that's the way 
Westley says he wants me always. And, of course, I have to be naked. He took 
that for granted." Ginevera grinned ruefully. "It's not exactly the way I 
picture marriage." 

"You'll have a marvelous time. You'll honeymoon in Italy. Most girls would 
give their eyeteeth for such a gorgeous time. And Westley tells me he'll 
take you with him on these business trips of his. You probably get whipped 
and tied up in hotel rooms." Lady Alyth sighed. "I wish I was young again." 

"You are young, don't try and kid me, Alyth. There's not that many years 
between the two of us. Why haven't you ever wanted a man?" 

"Oh, I've wanted him all right. But I haven't wanted the curtailment of my 
freedom. I've got things good the way they are. A man would just mess the 
whole thing up. Take Westley, darling, and be grateful." Lady Alyth allowed 
the silence to length for a few seconds before adding, "And, don't forget, I 
want a son." 

"Will my wedding be another farce like the last one?" 

"I was naughty about that," Lady Alyth conceded. "This time you can pick 
your own. A church?" 

"I thought of a Registrar, with just a few witnesses." 

"Whatever you want, dear, but that sounds frightfully dull. If you'd allow 
me to pick the proper minister we could have a delightful innovation when it 
comes to him saying 'you may now kiss the bride.' I'd like to change that 
to, 'you may now whip the bride.' Don't you think that's rather sweet?" 

Ginevera was not the least bit sure. She was in that pre-nuptial condition 
of hot loins and the selection of furniture. She realized Trinity would 
condone nothing mundane and was prepared to be whipped here and there along 
the course. But somehow she wanted a more traditional wedding. One with a 
few less ropes and chains than Westley and Lady Alyth would have. 

"Seems to me the perfect marriage," Lady Alyth said seriously. "Westley is 
never going to be the normal husband. He'll whip you as often as he can get 
away with because he loves you. That's not too bad for a husband. Mostly 
they drink beer and look at the TV and visit whores. In Westley you've got 
something special." 

"If I can stand the pain." 

"Stop it, Ginevera! I refuse to listen to your silly ideas. You'll be a good 
wife to my nephew and do exactly as he says and you'll enjoy all the 
benefits Trinity Castle can offer. If there is a dungeon in the background 
it will be because you have not had the good sense to stay out of it. Make 
myself clear, darling?" 

Ginevera always felt better after talking to Lady Alyth. She was conscious 
of a wet sex resulting from the discussion but consoled herself with 
thoughts of the new wing to be made over and modernized for her and the man 
whose love she could no longer doubt. Ardently she went around the kissed 
the woman behind the desk. "Darling, you always make me feel better. But, no 
thank you, I don't want to be whipped again for quite a while. I'll go talk 
to Westley, I'm sure he's got a lot more rules." Half way to the door she 
turned to ask, "What have you done with Prune?" 

"I'm afraid she ran afoul of Miss Prelate. She's hanging by her thumbs 
downstairs." 

"But that's a terrible punishment!" 

"Yes, dear, but you know Miss Prelate. And the girl did go a bit overboard 
and kicked a mistress. Why don't you go down and whip the darling while 
she's suspended like that. Nothing too cruel, of course, but as an 
accompaniment to conversation. Run along." 

Ginevera had intended to return to talk with the man who would be her 
husband but went instead down the menace of the stone steps to whatever she 
would find below. Prune was hanging limply, absorbing pain, and the girl who 
walked quietly in glimpsed the bizarre beauty of a punished girl. Prune's 
head was bowed in despair as her arms were taut in traction beneath her 
punished thumbs. Without hope she focused on her visitor to ask, "Won't you 
let me down. Please let me down." 

Ginevera acted by instinct without reason. She did not think of the penalty 
hanging over the act she now performed. But this picture of Prune hanging 
there because of Miss Prelate's venom was more than she could stand. She 
kicked the box over by the hanging girl to stand on it and tear at knots. 
When Prune once more stood upon the floor she busied herself with one 
punished thumb while the owner comforted the other. It was thus Westley 
discovered them. 

To be caught in the act of treason can never be something a girl would wish 
for. Ginevera stood with bowed head before her master's gaze. Prune was too 
busy being thankful for relief. 

"I suppose you know what you've just done," Westley said cheerfully. "Her 
ladyship will skin you alive." He paused. "I'm not too keen on having you 
skinned alive. How would it be we hang that young lady up again and you be 
her side? Would that make the punishment fit the crime?" 

"Westley, please don't joke. I think it's a horrible idea." 

"Okay, you come up with something." 

"I can't. Punishment isn't my cup of tea and you know it. Oh, Westley, don't 
hang Prune up again, she's had enough." 

"And what did she do to get herself in this fix in the first place?" 

Ginevera told the details. Then she sighed. "If anyone has to be punished I 
guess it has to be me. Go ahead, Westley, fix my thumbs up there." 

"You'd stand for it, wouldn't you? No fighting, no complaint, just 
obedience." Westley's tone was reverent. "Ginevera, you really are 
something! Oh, all right, I hang you up by your thumbs. Then what the hell 
do I do with Prune?" 

"I don't know what you do with Prune. Oh, Westley, stop teasing and try to 
be serious. I think I'm in trouble but I'm sure you could iron it out. Lady 
Alyth always pays attention to whatever you want. You could ask her to 
forgive me." 

"After I've hung Prune up again?" 

"Well, yes, if that's what you want." 

"I don't want any of it, you idiot. Come with me, you two idiots, I'm sure 
my aunt will have a judgment of Solomon I can live with. I'm not sure you 
two will enjoy it, however." 

It could well be called a mixed trio. A cheerful male and two trembling 
girls. Westley had thoughtfully replaced the handcuffs on the girl with 
punished thumbs so that she and Ginevera had at least the minimum restraints 
Trinity called for. Lady Alyth heard her nephew's story and one look at the 
culprits confirmed every word he said. Wearily she asked, "You're both 
impossible. What should I do with you now?" 

"You don't need to do nothin'," Prune offered. "If was me that was hung up 
so I suppose you can hang me up again. But I wish you wouldn't." 

"And you, Ginevera, what have you to say for yourself?" 

"Yes, I'm guilty. I untied her." Ginevera looked around as if seeking 
support. "I guess you have to punish me." 

"It's not me any more, darling, you'll have to ask Westley for your 
punishment. Really, Ginevera, I'm ashamed of you. Run along and tell Westley 
to slap your wrist. Stay here, Prune, I want to talk to you." 

"You jolly well deserve to be punished, you silly goose," Westley said 
cheerfully. "I can't disobey Lady Alyth's orders and expect to get away with 
it. When you saw Prune hung up that way you should have just left her alone 
and gone on your way." 

"I know that now. I know I made a mess of things. Westley, punishment me and 
get it over with." 

"What sort of punishment would Auntie Alyth approve? As far as I'm 
concerned, both you and Prune should get off Scott free. I enjoy whipping 
girls but I'm not all that keen about hanging them up by their thumbs or 
making them sit on a sheet of sandpaper. I don't want to punish you right 
now but you've got my aunt involved. If she wants me to slap your wrist then 
I had better do it. Do you still want to marry me?" 

"Of course I will. I'll spend the time of my punishment thinking what a 
wonderful life we're going to have. What are you going to do to me?" 

"I don't know." Westley kissed his darling and patted her bottom 
affectionately. "How would it be I make you stand in a corner with your face 
to the wall for an hour?" he suggested sardonically. "Would that satisfy 
honor?" 

"I wish it would but I'm afraid Lady Alyth would want something more 
severe." 

"All right then. How about I make you sit on that horse thing for a full 
five minutes? I'm damned if I'm going to leave you on it any longer." 

"I don't think your aunt will be satisfied with anything less than one 
hour." 

"That's terrible. Okay, I'll go and talk to Aunt Alyth myself. But I've 
always tried to steer clear of interference. But you are the girl I'm going 
to marry and you shouldn't be treated like all the other girls." He 
chuckled. "You may as well come along. You can stand and look pretty and bow 
your head in shame. It won't do any good but I'll have fun watching you do 
it." 

Lady Alyth was alone and busy at her desk. She eyed the embarrassed 
intruders fondly. "Don't say a word, I know exactly what you want to tell 
me. Damn it, Westley, you've gone soft on me!" 

"Sure I've gone soft but only where Ginevera's concerned. I know I shouldn't 
butt in but I want you to forgive her. I really don't want to punish the 
poor girl. By the way, what did you do with Prune?" 

"What could I do? She's downstairs again, suspended by her thumbs. I feel a 
bitch about it but authority has to be maintained. And I'll say this about 
Prune, she took it very well. She said she understood. Damn it, Westley, 
your darling Ginevera is the real culprit. She should have left well enough 
alone." 

"Westley doesn't want to punishment me," Ginevera said. "I've asked him to 
do it and we've talked about it. We're both asking you to fix my punishment 
yourself and to make sure it's carried out. Maybe this one last time?" 

Lady Alyth Hardcastle laughed and shook her head. "Maybe I should be hung up 
by my own thumbs and let you all watch me suffer. But that wouldn't prove 
anything, either. Since you've been whipped enough we'll bypass that. But 
how would you like to stand in the pillory and watch Prune suffer? Seems a 
neat solution." 

"Westley, do please say yes," Ginevera pleaded. "It's letter me off easy. I 
don't suppose I'll enjoy it but it won't put any more marks on my skin. 
Darling, please?" 

At that moment the phone rang. As Lady Alyth listened to the call her face 
changed from bright amusement to the gravity of bad news. She motioned for 
Westley and Ginevera to sit down and wait. The words she was speaking were 
cryptic but decisive. When done, she looked from one to the other of the 
expectant faces to say quietly, "Lady Elizabeth has just died of a heart 
attack. Avon inherits everything. The lawyers are frantic to get hold of 
her. The funeral will be delayed a few days to give us time." Lady Alyth 
shrugged. "Westley, you're going to have to go and bring the girl back as 
fast as you can." 

Once more the phone rang. After that call. Lady Alyth was obviously angered. 
She looked at Ginevera to declare, "That call was from your Ma Bristol. Avon 
has disappeared and is believed kidnapped. She wants our help." 

 CHAPTER TEN - Avon's Tale 

It's lonely here in the dungeon. I don't suppose Lady Alyth will keep me 
here too long but it's been a few days. There's also the chains. She'd had 
me locked in iron with about every restrictive shackle ever invented. I 
suppose they don't matter because I'm certainly not going anywhere. And 
there's no one to see how ridiculous I look as I shuffle the few steps my 
chains allow just to have something to do. All these links make the most 
wonderful noise and are almost comforting in defeating the awful silence. I 
keep looking at the huge door, wishing it would open. But it does that only 
twice a day, then it's only a grim-lipped guard who does what she has to do 
and then leaves. Oh, shit! I should have handled things differently. 

Before she sent me down here Lady Alyth explained that I wasn't really being 
punished but only being taught a lesson. I can't see much difference myself. 
I'm seeing my real punishment as having to wear all these chains while I sit 
on the stone floor to think over and over about being an heiress with 
millions and millions of pounds, a lovely estate in the country and a 
townhouse. I'm rich, rich, rich! 

But I'm still a poor girl chained in a dungeon and all I have to do to fill 
the time is to go over and over the events that put me where I am. There's 
so fresh and vivid I can't stop thinking about them. 

It always begins with that old barn, with Jimmy and with Uncle Faucet When 
Westley showed up with that sheriffs deputy it was close to being the 
happiest moment of my life. When those two men saved me from Uncle Faucet's 
whip then took be straight back to Ma Bristol who comforted me over coffee 
pot and unlocked the padlocks still on my ankles. Everything happened so 
fast that I found myself very rich and wishing Westley would marry me 
instead of Ginevera. There was also Lady Alyth's to Ma to come back to 
England with us and pick herself another girl. I cried a lot into Westley's 
jacket. 

I almost laughed over the deputy's obvious relief when we said we were not 
going to press charges on either Jimmy or Uncle Faucet. If we signed a 
complaint, I'm sure his heart wouldn't have been in the job. Apparently the 
deputy and Uncle Faucet were old friends. I still remember Uncle Faucet's 
protests, "Hell, all I did was warm up the girl's bottom a little! Ain't no 
harm in that." 

Ma Bristol is kind and wonderfully adaptable. I suppose she didn't have much 
choice but to release me. But she took the trip to England in her stride. I 
suspect she was seeing herself making a choice of twenty beautiful young 
ladies. That idea seemed to please her. I loved my grandmother very much and 
she must have loved me because she left me everything. We sorted ourselves 
out and began to feel better. Quickly we found ourselves on the 
transatlantic plane. Wesley is quite wonderful. 

Everybody made fun over the short steps I took. My feet had been hobbled so 
long it was a while before I could take normal steps. Ma chuckled right 
along with Westley and said I had been a wonderful prisoner. We told her 
nothing about my six month sentence and decided to use my need to attend my 
grandmother's funeral as a means to terminate my captivity. And she would 
get a brand new girl. I ran over their faces in my mind and wondered which 
one she would pick. 

I made the funeral with time to spare. It was Lady Alyth who took me home 
afterwards, to Trinity I mean, and not to the old house where I'd be meeting 
grandma at every turn. And it was Lady Alyth who steered me back and forth 
among the lawyers who all assured me I was a very lucky young woman to 
inherit such vast holdings. They all wanted to tell me what to do with it 
but Lady Alyth steered me clear of those vultures and promised to always be 
with me in decisions. With Lady Alyth I felt warmly and contented secure. 

To Ginevera, Lady Alyth and I, Ma Bristol's fascination with Trinity was a 
delight. From time to time she dropped in to classroom to find an tremendous 
emotional attraction to the roomful of chained and naked girls. And in Miss 
Prelate's tendency to use the cane for the slightest reason. She watched 
youthful female palms slashed with wicked cuts but, when offered the 
opportunity to inflict the punishment herself, she declined the honor. "It 
ain't really my thing," she explained with some embarrassment. "What I 
really want to see is a girl with her feet chained and them handcuffs things 
on her wrist. That class of yours is about as beautiful a sight as I've ever 
seen." Surprisingly, she and Miss Prelate got along remarkably well. 

I suppose we should have known that Ma Bristol would select Erin as her 
choice. She found the darling child's pixie mischief irresistible. Erin was 
also the youngest member and had a body of such loveliness and future 
promise I might have chosen her myself. Unfortunately before Lady Alyth had 
a chance to nip the project in the bud, Ma had explained to a delighted 
maiden how they would retire to her ranch where Erin's steps would be 
forever chained and her wrists would wear the same handcuffs as at Trinity. 
The youthful darling was thrilled at the prospect. 

"I don't put much stock in this here caning your hands or whipping your 
ass," Ma apologized, feeling herself out of step with Trinity's traditions. 
"But I'll make you dance a pretty tune any time you're bad." 

It took all of Lady Alyth's charm to explain the facts of the case to a 
disappointed horsewoman and sparkling Erin who had to be threatened with 
three strokes across the palm of each hand unless she stopped pouting. But 
the incident passed well enough and Ma Bristol continued to prowl in a 
predatory search for a naked damsel who would sport chained feet. 

Throughout this time I suppose I was in an emotional limbo. I had loved 
Grandma more than I ever realized and, at first, delayed my return to either 
of the houses in which I had grown up. I feared the memories there. Westley 
explained that if Ginevera didn't want Prune, I should take her along for 
company and that every ancestral home needed a slavegirl. I sidestepped the 
offer, longing instead for Erin, then wondering if Lady Alyth would make me 
a gift of Audrey Wingate. Audrey was older than I but not much and wore her 
handcuffs with such sweet submission as to steel my heart. Then I remembered 
Grandma's stately homes were not the places in which to maintain a chained 
and naked girl. 

I adjusted a bit better with the passing of each day until I decided to 
stand on my own two feet and take over the personal possession and direction 
of my estate. With Lady Alyth's help I knew I'd be okay and wondered 
wistfully that if Westley didn't marry Ginevera, he might marry me. The 
thought gave me a lovely warm feeling in my pussy. And Lady Alyth, 
laughingly, agreed that if, for some reason, Westley changed his mind she 
would happily steer him in my direction. I then told them I thought I should 
go home sometime in the coming week. 

I picked up the vibes instantly with Lady Alyth looking at me oddly as a 
silence drifted on to become uncomfortable. Finally the owner of Trinity 
Castle said gently, "Haven't you forgotten something?" 

I guessed instantly what it was I had forgotten and cursed myself for 
loosing the initiative to mention it first. Stupidly, as thought to gain 
time, I found myself asking what it was I had forgotten. 

"You sentence, dear, you've haven't finished it." 

This time the silence was my own. It drifted on quite a while before I 
blurted, "But I thought Grandma's death and ... isn't it sort of canceled?" 

"You know it isn't, darling." 

"But I thought now that I'm rich ... and there's the estate and I'm over 
twenty-one...." 

"It was your grandmother's wish, dear, that you inherit it along with all 
the others things. Lady Elizabeth left me with an obligation the same as 
yours, dear." 

"You're not suggesting I go back to the ranch with Ma Bristol!" 

"No. She's being very well looked after." 

I was blushing and wiggling in my seat and must have looked very 
disorganized. Lady Alyth took me in her arms to nurse and comfort as she 
might have done a child. 

"It will bother you all your life, Avon, if you don't go through with it. It 
would bother me, too. Tell me you understand." 

"But that's more than two months! It's crazy for a girl like me to accept 
two month's imprisonment when she doesn't have to." I was well and truly 
upset. 

"You do have to, dear. You know you have to. I think we should go back to 
the original plan. You will be a member of the Class again. You'll have the 
girls for company and you'll quickly fit in again." 

"With the Miss Prelate caning my hands every day! Please, Lady Alyth, I just 
don't want to." 

"Your upset, Avon. Your hands won't be caned every day unless you deserve 
it. I won't promise you privileges. But, unless you're a silly girl, you can 
spend the time pleasantly enough. The girls will envy you tremendously. 
They'll want to talk about the things you can do at the end of sixty-seven 
days." 

I didn't want to hear. An even worse prospect had taken possession of my 
mind. In sixty-seven days the rotation would get me whipped five times! 
"Girls who are millionaires don't get themselves whipped." 

"You will, dear. Be proud." 

"But, Lady Alyth ... I...." I could hardly believe what I was hearing. "The 
idea is outrageous. The girls will all laugh at me! No way!" 

"Stop being dramatic, dear, and stop feeling sorry for yourself." Lady 
Alyth's voice was almost sorrowful. "Don't make yourself seem less than your 
grandmother and I want you to be." 

I took a deep breath and knew defeat. Lady Alyth was too much for me and a 
woman I could never fight. Dully, I heard my voice ask, "When do you want 
the sixty-seven days to start?" 

"Immediately, dear." 

"And the rotation whipping?" 

Lady Alyth shrugged. "It could be tomorrow, dear, but I much prefer today. 
When I whip you, you'll discover everything slips into place. When it's over 
you'll feel better." 

The Avon who first came to Trinity would not have believed a word but now, 
regretfully, I knew it true. It might not make sense but Lady Alyth was 
right in what she said. Ideas of escape flitted across my mind but no girl 
can escape from Trinity I reminded myself. 

"Do you want me to undress?" 

"Yes, of course. I have a pair of handcuffs for you." 

Maybe I'm crazy but it actually felt good. I had found clothes stuffy and 
had been wearing them too long. The nakedness I rediscovered at that moment 
was an exciting release. Without thinking twice I held out my wrists and got 
myself firmly handcuffed. It felt good, too. It was like going home. Now 
that it was too late to bargain, I asked, "When Ginevera and Westley get 
married I would sure like to be there." 

"I'll give you a day's freedom, dear, if you don't mind it being added to 
your sentence." 

I was kissed and hugged and went downstairs. We both laughed when I lost the 
handcuffs again so my wrists could be strapped up high for the first of the 
five whippings between me and eventually freedom. I asked to be gagged but 
Lady Alyth said no, I could scream all I liked, it wouldn't bother her. I 
made up my mind not to disgrace myself with the sounds and words of a girl 
in pain. I actually managed pretty well to cope with agony by means of kicks 
and dancing on air. Lady Alyth's thong brought me up to date on what it was 
like to be a Trinity slavegirl. 

In the aftermath of sweat and tears I kept assuring myself that sixty-seven 
days wasn't all that bad, and when I went to claim my inheritance I would 
feel good about it and could then visit Lady Alyth and Erin with an easy 
conscious. I also wished Westley would take me to bed. 

While waiting for Lady Alyth to set me free I found a sensuous pleasure in 
twisting against my straps. As I amused myself with this special kind of 
sensuality I felt myself clasped in the grin of Lady Alyth. Handcuffed and 
with a scolded back and burning bottom, I rejoined the Class as though it 
was just an ordinary day in the life of an imprisoned girl. I got only a few 
curious glances and a welcoming nod from Miss Prelate as I found my desk and 
sat down carefully upon a tender bottom. Everything was very much back to 
square one. 

In the dorm it was different. I became the center of excited chatter and the 
obvious envy of ever girl except Erin. It did much to make me feel better 
about my continuing captivity. I stuck out my foot for the guard to shackle 
my ankle and went to sleep with the feeling that maybe things weren't so bad 
after all. I should have known better. 

Day dreaming was my downfall. I had a lot to dream about, far more than the 
other prisoners, and I couldn't keep rosy visions from my mind. I thus 
became dreamy-eyed and inattentive enough to draw Miss Prelate's sharp 
command, "Avon, repeat our last sentence." 

I was sunk, I hadn't a clue. So, of course, I found myself walking those 
dreaded steps to stand before the Class. 

"You have been indulged far too long," she said in her best authoritative 
tone. "Since your punishment is to be severe, I will remove those 
handcuffs." 

I was trembling. When a girl looses her handcuffs in the Class, she knows 
she's in trouble. But I stood meekly as they were taken off and wondered how 
I was going to get through the next five minutes. 

"You will extend first you right hand, Avon, and then the left. You will 
continue to alternate them for a total of six strokes, three on each palm. I 
want you palms tight and taut as you present them for the cane. Do you 
understand what I'm saying?" 

"Yes, Miss Prelate, I'm terribly sorry." 

"I'm sure you are. Now your first palm...." 

The pain was so bloody awful it transformed me from an obedient girl into a 
wild animal. I kicked Miss Prelate dead center and fled. I had no plan of 
escape but ran without trouble to one of the rear exits to the garden. It 
was pure luck that one of the maids had just opened it to go out and pick 
roses for the lounge. I flashed past her to cross the garden and find the 
gate out into the park was also open. Once out and beyond I jump in a joyous 
abandonment to freedom in a way I hadn't run for a long time. Having gotten 
this far, my mind was now busy with thoughts of climbing the wall and 
finding my independent freedom anyway I could. After all, I was rich and 
rich girls can do anything they want. 

The park at Trinity is a lovely place with the central feature of a lake and 
by the time I had sped beyond the water I looked back fearfully over my bare 
shoulder to find out who pursued and what sort of lead I had. But there were 
no pursuers. I had the park to myself. It was up to me to take advantage of 
this and search the wall for a weakness. The wall was far higher than I 
remembered it. But I had known from the start I would have to find a place 
where it had crumbled or perhaps where a tree was close enough to offer 
escape. By now I was panting but still hurrying. 

I could drag this out but I won't. I searched the wall for a long time. By 
the end of it my feet were dragging and I was far too close to the castle to 
be safe. The wall was solid and any tree that might have helped had been 
thoughtfully trimmed back. My prison might be wide but I was still a 
prisoner so I walked far back into the trees where I could not be seen nor 
see the castle. 

I sat down as comfortably as I could and surveyed my future. It was bleak. 

I know that sooner or later I would be captured but since I wasn't being 
chased right now I could take my time in a careful survey of the wall. Tired 
and discouraged, I got to my feet, not daring to think of what Trinity would 
do to me if I was caught. By the time I had again completed the long journey 
around the wall I deleted the "if and replaced it with "when." By the time I 
had walked around for the rest of the day and the shadows were growing 
longer and longer, I could imagine Lady Alyth chuckling to herself behind 
her desk and saying "She'll be back. Just wait until it gets dark!" 

The light faded and I became aware of hunger. And the air turned first cool 
then cold upon my skin. With darkness I saw ghosts every where and dangerous 
creatures crawling and creeping around the dark grounds. I sat on the grass 
and wept bitterly to repent the pain I had chosen to evade. Bitterly I 
blamed my inheritance for giving me false courage and false pride. Without 
it hovering in the background I would never have kicked Miss Prelate nor 
made my desperate run. The sixty-seven days would have been painful but 
would have passed easily enough if I had given them the chance. I wondered 
if Lady Alyth could now double my sentence or what other punishment I could 
expect. I had committed an unforgivable act and was more frightened than I 
had ever been in my life. Sometime in the night I knocked at Trinity's back 
door. 

It was opened by Radcliff, whose only greeting was, "You've made a fine mess 
of things this time, young lady." I was escorted to Lady Alyth's office 
where she waited in expectation of my return. I stood before her desk in 
naked disarray, unable to meet her eyes. I was so overwrought in a conflict 
of emotions that I sank to my knees to bury my face in her lap and weep. We 
stayed like that for a long, long time before my mistress whispered softly, 
"You'll have to be punished, Avon." 

"Of course." 

"I won't send you back to Miss Prelate." 

"Thank you." I had a hard time getting my thanks out between my sobbings. 

"Damn it, Avon, I wish you hadn't done this, it's put me in a spot Miss 
Prelate wants all sorts of things done to you and for certain I owe it to 
her to give you some sort of punishment. But I don't want to do it in haste, 
I want to think about it." 

I didn't much care. It seemed silly to say thank you again so I just 
continued to cry until my tears were exhausted. 

Both guards responded to Lady Alyth's pushing of the button. Each one took 
an arm arid led me from the room. I did not fight and felt bitterly guilty 
about the whole affair, especially its effect on Lady Alyth who had never 
been anything but kind. But after we'd descended the stone steps and the 
stone halls to pause before the awful door where Radcliff took the huge key 
from its hook, I knew it was the dungeon for me. I wanted to plead but knew 
it would do no good. 

They paid no heed. The huge door was pushed open and I was carried across 
the threshold of doom. One guard held me while the other sorted out the 
collection of chains that were to make me very much a part of this dungeon. 
Between the two of them they fastened every limb I had in heavy chains. 
There was even a metal band around my tummy which cut into my flesh. There 
was also a collar for my neck. There were shackles for wrists and ankles and 
even some for my arm above the elbow. And everything was chained to 
everything else. I could hardly stand with all that weight of iron on me. 
Then a final chain was padlocked to my collar with a modern lock at one end 
and the other locked to a ring in the wall. That chain gave me a run of 
perhaps five feet in a circle around the ring. My bottom was patted and they 
left me alone and slammed the door. 

I had used up all my tears, I had no more. There isn't much to do when you 
are a prisoner in a dungeon. I played with my chains and explored the tiny 
amount of freedom I had. I shuffled this way and that until my neck collar 
snubbed me to a halt. I sighed a lot. 

While I was still fumbling with the heavy links an easily recognizable voice 
spoke from the darkest shadows of my dungeon. "What the hell did you do to 
get yourself in this jackpot, honey? Boy, oh boy, have they got your fixed." 

It was Prune! 

I don't suppose I have words to describe my flood of thankfulness. I was not 
alone and at that moment having a companion was all that mattered. I turned 
to where Prune rose up from the floor and right away considered her a lucky 
girl to wear only the handcuffs on her wrists. We hugged each other in a 
mutual need while I told Prune of the events which had brought me here. She 
laughed and called it the crime of the century. But she went on to complain 
of the raw deal she was getting because, "I ain't done nothing wrong, sugar. 
That there Prelate bitch was mad at me. I only been here a few hours but 
until you showed up I was scared shitless." 

It helped a lot to thing that Lady Alyth had not really put me alone in the 
dungeon. She knew I'd have company and that would make my punishment easier 
to take. 

Prune then casually inquired whether she should french me or I should french 
her! 

In the morning when I got my dungeon ration crust of bread Prune was led 
away. This time when the door closed I was well and truly alone. 

I suppose you could say I've caught up with myself now. And I'm now 
lamenting the girl who had entwined herself around my chained nakedness for 
the warmth and affection we imparted to each other. It isn't like that now. 
All I've got is four stone walls and goodness knows how many pounds of iron. 

I don't know how long I'm in here for. I can't outguess Lady Alyth and I 
can't escape. The stones are silent. It's hard being alone and I'm sure I'll 
become a raving lunatic if I'm ignored too long. But I needn't have worried 
because along about bedtime the door opened and Ginevera was thrust inside 
to keep me company. 

After the thudding of the bolts we entangled our bodies as best my chains 
allowed and I learned Ginevera was with me because she wanted to make my 
stay in the dungeon as bearable as possible. 

"I've been locked in here myself," she said. "I know what it's like and I 
know about those chains. In the middle of the night a girl knows she's going 
to die here." She laughed. "I had little trouble persuading Lady Alyth to 
let me come." She held up both hands. "Look, I'm only handcuffed. I can do 
the things you can't. Let's cuddle for the night." 

Ginevera did not become apprehensive until noon of the following day. She 
admitted that one reason she had so easily gained entry to my dungeon was 
that Westley was away for a couple of days. When she asked Radcliff why she 
had to stay here she got only a shrug and by the time night came around 
again was frankly anxious. It was now my time to do the comforting. 

After another dismal night upon the stone we were both scared. The night and 
the following day helped not at all, especially when we asked Radcliff what 
we might expect. She told us quite honestly she had no idea. So far as she 
was concerned we were a couple of naughty girls who were being punished and 
we had best accept that punishment with good graces. She gave extra emphasis 
to thudding the bolts when she locked the door. 

Ginevera and I sat through our solitary day. But then at night it was 
Westley who gave us back our lives when he came back to pick up his 
bride-to-be, admitting without a blush that his bed was cold. Then he 
doubtfully looked at me to ask if we knew where the key was to unlock our 
hardware. I hadn't the faintest idea but Westley was wise enough to find the 
key. In a few minutes I stood free and untroubled with irons. Westley, 
however, was Lady Alyth's nephew and put it to me straight. 

"Look, sweetheart, I'm going to screw Ginevera six different ways. But, if 
you want to be chained to the wall with a long enough chain that you can 
sleep on the rug beside our bed, you're welcome. Otherwise you'd best stay 
right here and I'll lock those chains back on." 

It was a joyous moment and the freedom of my limbs was wonderful. "I don't 
mind what you do with me," I told him in total sincerity. "I'd love to be 
chained to the wall in your bedroom. And if you tell me sometimes to hide my 
eyes, I'll be glad to. Should I be handcuffed?" 

Everything was wonderful. Ginevera glowed, Westley glowed, and I was alight 
with thankfulness. I knelt beside his bed to have the collar locked upon my 
neck with it's loop of chain connecting me to the wall. Without a word I 
extended my arms and said very simply, "You mustn't forget the handcuffs, 
Westley. If I'm not properly secured, Lady Alyth will be unhappy." 

Westley was delighted by my submission and put the handcuffs on my wrists 
one notch too tight. He then plunged into bed where Ginevera lay waiting, 
naked and laying upon her arms tightly bound behind her back at wrists and 
elbows in Westley's much-beloved ropes. I was left to my freedom. I watched 
only long enough to bring tears of envy to my eyes then laid myself upon the 
rug and tried to go to sleep. 

I'm still trying. 


THE END
